DRAWINGS [jaeyong]

[10]

[TEN]

"I got an itch in my throat. I don't know which way to go. I keep on switchin', I know. I need a different approach. It's all because I wanna show you that I'm so capable."

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

JAEHYUN lied on his side, dull, tired eyes staring at the screen of his phone and a huge blanket covering his body, tickling his jawline. He was watching some random anime show, and the thing was, he didn't necessarily even like anime, he just couldn't find something else to do at twelve o'clock in the morning except not sleep — he was scared to sleep, quite honestly.

He tried texting Taeyong, hours ago actually, but he had never responded. All his eyes were met with was a little seen below the picture he sent of his finished sketch of the week (which he was semi-proud of, because at least it looked halfway decent) and a 'hey'. Jaehyun felt foolish of the fact that he actually assumed Taeyong would respond — the boy seemed okay with him in detention, but maybe he dealt his cards wrong and was just looking on the brighter side of things. It made Jaehyun's mouth taste bitter and stomach flip; he actually thought he was getting somewhere.

But it was as though Taeyong was far too gone — far too inside his own four walls to let anyone in. It frustrated Jaehyun so much.

Jaehyun clicked off his phone, setting it down on his end table and turning his bedside lamp off. He flipped his pillow and rested his head on the cool cloth, thinking of how he had to be up and ready for school tomorrow. He attempted at pushing that thought away, breathing in the clean scent of the fabric softener.

The teenage boy was merely grasping onto reality, almost slipping into a slumber before he heard shouts from outside his bedroom door. He furrowed his eyebrows and jolted awake, his body only lying in his spot for a split second before he sat up.

"It's fucking gone! He must've stolen it... he must've!"

"Hajoon, you know Donghyuk wouldn't do that. He's just a kid."

"Then Jaehyun had to of!"

Jaehyun's knuckles tightened on the seam of his blanket at hearing his name, regret bubbling in his stomach and rising to his burning throat.

"No, Hajoon. He's not like that," his mother responded quietly, her comforting voice merely being able to be heard where Jaehyun lied.

"I know it was Donghyuk! That kid hates me," Hajoon said, pausing and letting out a gruff, short laugh. "Kid hates his own father. He would throw away a forty dollar bottle of whiskey just to get under my skin."