𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 - TMR, Gally

017 - Sun And Moon

I smiled even brighter. "Then you can make sure they like you today! There's nothing wrong with that."

He let out a grunt. "I don't like socializing or people."  

"I am aware." I snickered. "No wonder you're so grumpy."

He squinted his eyes closer shut. "I'm not grumpy."

I raised an eyebrow. Then two, and put a hand on my hip, still holding my plate in the other one. "You kind of are. Let's go, Gally."

I grabbed his bicep. He grumbled and groaned, but let me drag him. I knew he could've easily lay me down on the ground, yet he didn't.

"Hello." I greeted happily.

"Hey, Val." Newt's face darkened. "And Gally."

"Gally!" Minho opened his arms. "Nice to have you here. Sit down, man."

I expected Gally to sass back, but he didn't. He did not look at Minho while he sat down. Enthusiastic to see what this combination of boys would lead too, I hopped next to Newt.

"Newt, what do you think?" I tapped him on the shoulder. "Should I paint my hut blue? The insides."

"No, white's better."

"White's not even a color." Minho mocked.

"Yeah, but it's calm. So if you paint the insides white—."

"That's what she said." I cut Newt off.

His face dropped and his eyes almost got filled with fire. "Stop. Stop making everything I said dirty."

"Stop saying things I'm able to make dirty."

"Or just don't make it dirty."

"No, thanks."

"What's it even worth doing that?" He gave me a push on the shoulder.

"It's funny." I stared at him. "And did you just eat a cocktail sausage? Ew."

"You didn't see a cocktail sausage." He denied. "And I did definitely not eat it."

"Well, but if I wanted to see one, I'd pull down Carl's pants."

Gally chocked on his food, Newt's face dropped, and Minho laughed, almost proud.

"Are you two healthy best friends or literally just crazy?" The Runner wondered.

"Depends."

"I'm healthy, Val is crazy."

"I'm extrovert, he's introvert."

"She's sun, I'm moon."

"He's Lady Gaga, I'm Ed Sheeran."

"We never agreed on Lady Gaga."

"Whatever."

"Okay! We get it." Minho put his hands on the table formally. "So, about your poem."

"Not the poem, please." I buried my head in my hands, embarrassed again.

"I liked it. You better teach me how to write that sometime." Gally commented, talking casual as if he wasn't a big guy wanting to write a poem.

"You? And a poem?" I giggled. "I'd like to see how that turns out. So, okay. Here's the deal. If you teach me how to wrestle, I'll teach you how to do poetry."

"Sure."

"Write a poem about me." Minho blurted out, though he didn't seem ashamed.

"You?" I shook my head. "No."