✓//Ordinary Things ⌁ k. jiyong

Chapter Twelve

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The soft murmur of wind outside the window barely reached the cozy warmth inside Haeun's apartment. The sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a sleepy gold over the freshly fluffed throw blankets and half-empty water bottles littered around her living room. The echoes of last night-the glitz of the gala, the sting of a fist, the weight of the past-still hung in the air, but here, in this soft morning light, it felt distant. Manageable.

Haeun stood barefoot in the kitchen, gently cradling a porcelain teapot with her uninjured hand, while Jiyong leaned beside her, quietly stacking small dessert plates for the biscuits she had baked the night before.

"You sure you don't want me to do that part too?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the slight discoloration around her knuckles.

She gave him a tired smile. "It's just tea, Jiyong. Not a grand piano."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's not a denial."

With a small shake of her head, she nudged the tray toward him. "Fine, you can carry it over."

"Gladly," he said, already reaching for it before she could change her mind.

They made their way into the living room together, Jiyong balancing the tea tray while Haeun followed with a tin of her lavender-chamomile biscuits and a basket of folded napkins.

The boys were exactly how she expected them to be-lounging like overgrown house cats. Daesung had pulled a throw blanket over half his face and was half-dozing. Seunghyun was flipping through her record collection like it was a curated museum exhibit, and Youngbae sat with an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel over his knuckles, scrolling silently through his phone.

"You look like you all fought in a war," she said, setting down the biscuits.

Youngbae smirked but didn't look up. "We did. A war of dignity."

"You're so dramatic," she muttered fondly, handing him one of the biscuits and pressing her fingers over the ice pack instead.

"You shouldn't be using your hand like that," Jiyong murmured beside her. She only responded with a soft hmm and a dismissive shake of her head.

"That punch, though," Daesung finally said, sitting up, his eyes wide and still half-sleepy. "Hyung, I swear I thought security was going to drag you out by your ankles."

Youngbae grunted, breaking the biscuit in half. "He deserved it."

Seunghyun turned, holding up one of her jazz records. "Can't believe I missed the actual hit. I was in the restroom."

"You always miss the good stuff," Jiyong said with a dry laugh, setting the teacups down. "It's basically your curse."

"That's why I brought records. To make up for it." Seunghyun placed the vinyl onto the player and soon the sound of a soft brass instrumental hummed in the background.

For a moment, silence settled between them like a blanket. Haeun passed out the tea, her movements a little slower than usual, her fingers brushing briefly over each of theirs-checking in, the way she always did, without having to say anything.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" Youngbae asked her gently.

She looked over at him, blinking. "A little."

"Liar," Daesung and Seunghyun said in unison.

Jiyong leaned against the back of the couch, watching her as she lowered herself onto the floor with her tea, cradling it between her palms.