stardust | park seonghwa ✓

27

"HAVE you got your light stick?"

"Did you bring some snacks? Should I pack in more energy bars?"

"Don't forget to put your portable charger in your bag!"

If anything in the world, I should be the one fussing over whatever is happening. But taking my place in feeling that way was Yeosang. He came knocking at my house at exactly seven in the morning, hair still messy and eyes still red like he just woke up but that didn't stop him from making a mess in the kitchen to prepare my breakfast.

"You're acting weird," I say, "why are you being... nice?"

Yeosang scoffs as he cuts an avocado, "when was I not nice?"

"Literally every other day?"

He then rolls his eyes, "whatever, bask in this glory and enjoy it while I'm being 'nice'."

He places the messily cut avocados across the piece of toast on the table before stacking an egg and splats a blob of mayonnaise on top. Yeosang quickly wraps it with cling wrap before going ahead and wrapping another one already made before this one.

"They're for me?"

"Not everything I make here is for you," he says, "this is for Seonghwa." Yeosang lifts the avocado sandwich up. "And this is for San," he raises the other one up.

"And mine?"

"Oh, I didn't make one," he shrugs, completely unbothered.

My jaw drops, "you're evil!"

"Like you said," he snickers. Yeosang claps his hands to get rid of excess crumbs on his fingers before he shuffles past me and into the living room, shoving the two sandwiches into my tiny sling bag.

I follow him out with a pout.

"You're going to a concert, not a picnic," Yeosang retorts.

It makes me pout harder so I threaten him by going there and wearing my (not even gonna lie) hideous neon orange sweater. That orange sweater, as comfortable as it is, was an eyesore and it's not like I'm actually going to wear it but Yeosang's expression turns horrified regardless. Like, as in, jaw-dropping, eye-widening, an almost scream kind of horrified.

"You're lucky I'm being nice," he whips out a small cardboard lunchbox and hands it to me. The contents inside is still seemingly warm, so I open it and find the oh so familiarly laid out meal that Yeosang used to bring back in school because his mum forced him to.

I laugh, "did your mum make this?"

"No, I did," Yeosang grins proudly, "neat, right?"

I observe the box in my hands. Rice, nice steamed rice with two sunny-side ups with these incredibly delicious and familiar red sauce on top. Simple, but definitely top tier.

"Wow, thanks Sangie!"

"Now... what time is i―" Yeosang lets out an audible gasp, "oh my God! We still haven't figured out what to wear!'

So he sprints to my room. If this was a cartoon episode, you can bet there would be a trail of hot smoke behind him judging by how fast he sped off.

"Why?"

"He didn't tell you?" I hear his voice call out from my room, "Seonghwa is picking you up! Probably with San too."

"Yeah and so? I'm fully capable of picking my own clothes," I trudge to my bedroom. "What's wrong with the ones I picked anyway?"

"You mean the ones on your chair?"

"Which other ones are there?"

When I arrive at the mouth of my door, I see Yeosang judging over the pile of clothing on top of my chair. He tsks, biting his thumb nail before shrugging, "Just because you and your mutuals on Tooder or whatever that is are wearing it, doesn't mean that I'm letting you go out there looking like some type of e-girl wannabe."