VMINKOOK / THE ART OF BEEKEEPING

31

— PART THIRTY-ONE.

Accursed and tender; a vigorous hum seeps through to his mind, and splays itself amongst his thought process. Searing palms burn into closed, pained eyelids, as the whirring yell of the blender continues making it's presence unavoidable. Lifting his head slightly, he spots the fruit and vegetables being gutted, their blood pooling around the transparent plastic, melting into a pink-ish liquid. The visual which accompanies the rumbling, only serves to irritate his senses more, and his face finds itself smooshed in his forearms.

Thunderous footsteps become obvious to his heightened sense of hearing, followed by the harsh yet teasing tug of his locks, "aw, is little Jeonggukie all hungover?" Jangmi's usually soft voice is positively abrasive in the redhead's eardrums and he proves this by the low groan that tears from his throat.

A serrated ringing rolls through his ears, as the noise of the blender suddenly cuts off and Jeongguk, through his tussled hair, catches his brother turn around, eyes curiously looking over his two younger siblings. He carelessly detaches the main jug from the rest of the blender and ensures to engulf a hearty sip as he walks around the kitchen island, to the side where the other two were sat.

"Were you out last night?" he questions, his tone not giving away any emotion, quite uncharacteristic of the man, as usually he would be brimming with false joy.

"What's it to you?" Jeongguk fires back, a mean snarl crawling across his lip, and snagging at his nose, informing the other two siblings he blatantly wasn't in the mood.

Jangmi snorts, roughly slapping her brother on the back, right between the shoulder blades, as if attempting to dislodge some sense of humanity from his throat, "must you always be so moody?"

"'m not fucking moody."

Jaewon smiles slightly at the irony in that sentence and the way it's spat out of his mouth like being such an adjective was the worst thing imaginable, "so you're hungover."

"Not even." Jeongguk grumbles, feeling his mind throbbing more by the second, hands practically trembling with the amount of withheld agitation beneath his skin. He was lying, of course, the proof easily discernible due to his wayward form. His tongue is ticking within his mouth, and it feels as if it's only a matter of time before something falls out of those wavering lips, "and could you spare me your lecture right now, 'cause I'm not at all in the mood."

"No shit," Jangmi rolls her eyes, before widening them at Jaewon, as if subliminally trying to insert something into his brain — something which clearly doesn't resonate, as he just presents her with a quizzical gaze and a bewildered twitch of his lips. She mumbles a string of irritations, before contributing in a more teasing tone, "having trouble with actually feeling something, hm?"

His breath visibly shudders out of him and his shoulders slink back, and his eyes are wide open and seemingly alive; embers of black wafting upward like puffs of smoke, and making space for the assortment of crimson that sets his iris' ablaze.

"Feeling? That doesn't sound like Jeongguk." Jaewon inputs, still a tad confused, (always having been more brawn than brains).

Silken fibres of hair flutter in the dewy dappling of sunlight, as Jangmi flicks it back; a floweret of opulent beatitude billows out around a fiendishly ornate smile, which she slaps onto her face; her eyes are slight with mischief — stilted and ready to put out the fire in Jeongguk's, "mmm, well, unexpected though it may be, he's positively smitten." Her hands animatedly clutch together by her cheek, as if adoringly.

The screech of the stool being suddenly moved back is ear-piercing, and the middle child is practically incandescent, in the most gruelling of ways, the other two stepping back, slightly hesitant due to the ferocity of the boy, along with the boiling of his skin; a succession of heat transpiring from his body in thick spells of distaste, "you really don't know when to shut up, do you?"