❝I seriously hate your guts,❞
❝The question is, can i rearrange yours?❞
* ༉‧₊˚ | in which two
stubborn assholes
are expected
to work together
through their
hatred for one
another.
under major editing!
mature content discussed.
reader discretion...
Not wanting to cause or endure another argument between herself and Renjun, Aeri took the bus home.
She walked up to her drive way, from the nearby bus stop, to see a familiar black van parked at front. Cold blood coursed through her veins just at the thought of them being over again. Hurrying around the large vehicle, she saw the group of six men all stood at her door step, continually knocking.
"What are you guys doing here?" She yelled, startling the group. They jumped in their place and swiftly glanced over their shoulders to the approaching female— faces drained of any color.
"Surprise?" Donghyuck grinned sheepishly, sticking his hands out in a jazz hand motion, as Jisung cleared his throat awkwardly.
"We wanted to talk about our song for the next round, and we couldn't get in contact with you so we decided to surprise you at home, but we knocked, and knocked and knocked, and no one answered," Jaemin rambled in explanation, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. With his other hand, he pointed to the window of her home. "We thought you were in but just couldn't hear us because the light was on,"
"My father is home," Aeri corrected with pursed lips. Habitually, she adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag, feeling a slight tension creep up onto her shoulders.
"Why didn't he—" Jaemin began again, but he was firmly interrupted.
"In the past year, he became hearing impaired," The group of men stiffened. They remembered Aeri's father, and they knew him quite well. He was a music teacher at their high school and had always been encouraging and friendly. He'd allow them to use his classroom after school and during lunch periods, bought them pizza when they were at Aeri's coming up with songs on late nights and even offered the team to drive them to one of the farther competitions they signed up for.
Hearing this news settled a new pressure to their chests. They all held the older man close to their hearts, even when he despised one after a certain incident. "Being a violinist and music teacher really took a toll on his hearing," His daughter sighed, remembering the time he received the news of even just being at risk.
The group nodded stiffly in understanding. This was one of the major downsides of being a musician. Loss of hearing. They all knew it was inevitable, even just a small impairment, but they feared it like it was a plague.
"If you wanna say something to him, I'll sign it for you, don't worry. Also don't sneak up on him or anything. When you enter a room he's currently in, just stomp on the floor and he'll know," Aeri moved past the boys and towards the front door where she pulled out her keys and unlocked it. She pushed the frame open and stepped inside, immediately taking off her shoes— her band mates following suit in respect.
The men gapped at the hallway. It was still the same. The light beige wallpaper and floor welcome rug with the smiley face was still there. And as they stared down towards the kitchen and living room, they saw the rest of the home was still like before.
"I'm gonna go find him, and tell him we're here. You guys can just show yourselves to the living room. You've been here before," Aeri's tone was solemn, and soft. Them coming over again felt like it was their first ever time stepping foot in the residence. Without another word, the brunette rushed off, leaving the group of six alone.
They stiffly began to walk down the corridor— eyes attached to the many pictures hung up.
Jisung stopped in front of one gold frame.
It was an image of a woman, nearly identical to Aeri, but a few wrinkles had started frame her face, and a boy around the age they are now stood next to her. The young adult held a sage guitar— the same one Aeri used— and the woman held a trophy proudly.
Jisung felt his heart clench in his chest as the next frame over was of a newspaper. 'Wife (Han Misun) and Son (Han Duho) of local musician, Han Rua, has tragically died in a car accident. Close loved ones tell us that the two were driving home from a local music contest when the December roads turned too slippery for their vehicle's tires,'
Hearing a loud clap from behind him, the Blonde jumped in surprise, and turned on his heels, to face the stone cold gaze of Mr.Han.
Immediately, Jisung bowed in respect. Never had he thought that he'd face the man again, and it was only the best thing to do at the moment. The young male stayed at waist height, front bent forward, until the older patted his back to stand upright again.
Listening to his silent orders, Jisung did as he was instructed and stood straight again, where he met the 47 year old's piercing stare.
"Uh.." The young adult didn't know what to do. He felt helpless. He wanted to say so much to the man, but all he could do with his hands were stupid finger hearts, and that would get him no where. "I'm really sorry," He mouthed— his words coming out as a whisper. Jisung wasn't sure if the man would understand, but the emotion that flashed in his eyes when the younger's lips moved, proved it.
Rua did a swatting motion, dismissing the apology. He let out a noise of frustration, before attempting to speak. Although he could still talk, it was truly very hard for the man as he couldn't hear himself nor his pronunciation.
"I know you. You're a good kid. You wouldn't do that," His words came out slurred, it was obvious he didn't speak verbally with Aeri as she was skilled enough with sign language.
Jisung couldn't help but smile, though it was small, it held so much of his emotions. The blonde shook his head. The words of the man he looked up to were sweet, and too generous. It made him feel good, however that feeling didn't last. "But I did, and I'm sorry," Jisung so badly wanted to explain that apologies weren't enough, words were just words, but he knew Mr.Han wouldn't have picked up on his rambling.
Noticing his defeated expression, the older man patted the boy's shoulder.
"Go, Living Room," He monotonously encouraged, it sounded cold, but the younger knew he had no control over it. Instead of feeling bitter, he smiled politely and followed the noise of the others, leaving the older behind.
