disposition; joshua hong

c h a p t e r 5

5

"Think about the definition. I'm telling you guys, it totally is." Seungkwan persisted, eyes buldging as he explained his stance.

Minghao snorted, "Okay then, what is the definition of soup? Please, enlighten us."

"It's like, a liquid with something floating around in it." Seungkwan shrugged and kicked a stone into the road with one swift movement of his leg.

"Gross." Chan scrunched up his face at Seungkwan's words.

"Cereal is not a type of soup." I had been pretending not to listen to them up until this point, but gave in momentarily to express this.

Seungkwan looked at me with distaste, "Agree to disagree."

With that, the argument over Seungkwan's cereal ≅ soup theory faded off.

The four of us approached our apartment complex's entrance, empty carton's of strawberry milk in hand from our pit-stop at the convenience store.

Mr. Lee looked up from his book when the door's bells sounded through the lobby.

"Hey, Mr. Lee." I nodded to the door man, tossing my milk container into the garbage pail beside his desk.

He looked at me through his glasses, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Hello! How'd school treat you kids today?"

"It was actually painful. Every class made me want to lick a cactus." Seungkwan responded, a bit too honestly.

Minghao nodded in agreement, "So basically, it was as usual."

Mr. Lee shook his head and chuckled lightly. He turned his attention to Chan and said, "Your mother and I are going out for dinner tonight, so you can heat up last night's leftovers."

At that moment, it clicked. "You're Chan's dad? I didn't know that."

"Are you that dense?" Seungkwan gave me a smug look.

I reached over to slap him on the back of the head, but the attack was intervened by Minghao. "Stop acting like children!" He scolded.

Chan pouted, "I don't want leftovers. Can't I just go to Minghao's for dinner?"

Instead of responding to his son, Mr. Lee looked to Minghao for a confirmation.

"Yeah, Chan can eat at my place. My mom won't mind." Minghao shrugged as he met the doorman's gaze, "Actually, you can all come if you want." He turned to Seokmin, Seungkwan, and I with a look of indifference.

We agreed to it, piling into the elevator once Chan had said goodbye to his father.

Minghao fumbled with the door handle as we stood outside his door. He dumped his textbooks into Seungkwan's possession hastily.

Seungkwan grumbled something about missing his mother's kimchi stew night 'for this treatment', but held onto the books nonetheless.

The door opened and the boys rushed into the apartment as if it were their own. They tossed their backpack on the floor and I mirrored their actions.