Stitches ➵ Meanie t.s

Part Two: December

PART TWO: DECEMBER

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Mornings in December always started differently for Wonwoo. Sometimes it was howling winds past glass walls at 4:00 am or half-asleep searches for spare blankets because the biting air was too cold against bare toes. Sometimes it was the pungent scent of coffee and creamer, Mingyu's fabric softener and gentle breezes whistling through cracked windows, dreamy inhales of winter weaved with hints of Christmas. Sometimes it was Mingyu with blueberry muffins on fancy China plates, or pens rolling over paper and furious fingers against a sleek keyboard. Other times it was just Mingyu.

December 5th, however, began with snow piled on the balcony railings, warm beams of sunlight trailing over skin despite the cold, the faint smell of gingerbread wafting into watered-down senses. There was no Mingyu, just a messy desk and a candle nursing a small flame on the dining room table. Wonwoo noted that the apartment door had been left ajar, and with a small grunt, he slipped out from under one too many woolen blankets, bare feet leading him down one too many wooden steps.

Wonwoo discovered Mingyu hunched over the Cafe counter, head in his palms, boredom mocked by the bare tables and void streets outside light-refracting windows, tiny rainbows splaying over fake wood. Wonwoo swept in from behind, snatching a piece of Gingerbread from the jar grazing the tip of Mingyu's elbow. The tall latter did so little as flinch.

"Good Morning, Sunshine," Wonwoo cooed, seizing the silence as an opportunity for annoyance. Mingyu threw his messy-haired counterpart an irritated sideways glance, something meant to be more of a glare but was impossible to be achieved when Wonwoo's very appearance had him suppressing a grin. A too-large teeshirt draped over poking collar bones, gym shorts grasping onto the points of Wonwoo's hips, perpetually too loose despite the drawstring pulled tight. They were the Giant's clothes. It took Mingyu a while to recognize that he wasn't overwhelmingly large, Wonwoo was just underwhelmingly thin. Still, it was kind of cute. Watching him practically swimming in fabric.

"Stop stealing my lines," Mingyu's tone spoke half of annoyance, other half of something Wonwoo couldn't quite put his finger on. Popping the piece of gingerbread in his mouth on a whim, because Wonwoo wasn't entirely sure if he even liked gingerbread but had come to the conclusion that whatever Mingyu made was good, he nudged the latter in the groove of his rib.

"What's the matter? You look blah." Wonwoo commented, mouth full, letting the pastry crumble apart piece by piece on his tongue. By the time the square of holiday reminiscence had been devoured, Wonwoo had decided that he in fact, did like gingerbread. "You never look blah."

Mingyu contemplated, gaze lost somewhere in the distance, far past the towering buildings beyond frosted windows or the smell of freshly brewed coffee and caramel lattes. Past the empty tables that matched empty thoughts and vacant hearts. The sigh that followed sounded empty, too. Like a war was going on in his mind that concluded in surrender.

"I'm tired," Mingyu admits, focus magnified back to reality as his shoulders slump a little lower.

Wonwoo had enough sense to ask, "Of what?"

"Everything and nothing," the words take off immediately, like they'd been collecting at the back of his throat for far too long. "Everyday I'm doing the same thing. I get up, I work for a failing establishment to keep my dad happy when I should be out getting an education so I can make something out of myself in the future. Instead I'm running a shitty business, and for what? I'm doing nothing with my life, Wonwoo. Im sick of it."