come back home || k.sj

[back] viii.

[back] viii.

Back home at the penthouse is strangely sedative. Sedative but unsettling.

The bay windows reveal that it's past evening as the Seoul skyline towers the views with traffic lights of orange, red, and yellow that pepper the damp streets. A string of traffic, construction, and life buzzes down there and can be heard if you press your ear against the the tinted glass. The red curtains that had been left drawn present the windows like a cinema. You drop into the loveseat with a sigh.

It's dark. Everything is unlit except the kitchen which sports the blue and green signals on the fridge and the soft glow of the night that's yet to come from outside. As the heater cranks up with a click of the remote, a drift of warmth begins to thaw your feet. You contemplate whether to make dinner or not.

It's been a rough day, you decide. Some frozen pizza sounds good even though homemade pizza fares better. Maybe lasagna, but this time with parmesan cheese. You haven't touched carbs in a long time...

A warm bath, a fresh pair of silk pajamas from Victoria's Secret, (nightwear and lingerie's the only time you'd want to splurge) and a plate of quinoa and baked salmon with parsley would be the perfect end to a not so perfect day. At least, it kind of was a not so perfect day. The kids back at Solar got on your nerves more than usual this afternoon. You prefer your co workers from Starbucks in terms of peace and quiet. Yugyeom, Lalisa, and Seulgi are timid and enthusiastic students, while Cheng, Minhyuk, Jihyo, and even Naeyeon are probably the type to mug kids during Halloween.

You pick yourself up, untie your hair from that pathetic excuse of a ponytail, and skip towards the master bedroom which you and Seokjin share.

Or more like used to share. Most of his wardrobe and accessories still remain as there's really no point to box so much shit if you're hardly going to live in a condo with the rest of your residents, but every little thing that you especially adored about him, starting from Dior all the way to those little Yoshi acrylics that used to sit on top of the fireplace, have vanished.

They're not gone completely. They're still there, somewhere. Probably lying on top of a counter at Jin's house or stuffed in a corner when it's Namjoon's turn to clean. When the two first decided to move in together, you'd pay visits daily to drop by food and clean up after them. Not like a housemaid, but more like a concerned wife and friend for their wellbeing. It wasn't like two men dorming together would result in utter filth--that is, if it's just Namjoon and Taehyung--but you honestly didn't trust the way Namjoon handled the bathroom. Neither did Jin.

Sometimes, things were taken care of in unspoken ways.

Your phone lays flat against the memory foam when you walk out of the shower, towel in hand, fingers tangled in damp hair. The screen's blank as you expect it to be. You haven't taken a call in a while.

Even though you trust Jeongguk to give Jin a message, you doubt he'd actually sit down and take the time to ring you. And that's okay, you guess. You don't know if it would be okay in some other place, some other time, some other situation that features some other couple, but to you it's okay. You'd just take the first step. Throw the first stone. He'll understand. He'll follow after.

The phone. It's still sifted in between the bedsheets untouched. You lean over and snatch it from under the comforters and unlock it to scroll through your contacts.

Jin was never saved under his name from the first time you me. Back in middle school, it was Glasses Enthusiast. Once you two started high school and the world was suddenly turning, it was Kylie Jinner. Junior year, things began to heat so you kept switching between Cuteass and KSJ. Once he finally asked you out to both prom and practically forever, you had it changed to a multitude of pet names, with engagement phase as the best.