of poets and playwrights ; taegguk

prologue // too early for pda

OF POETS AND PLAYWRIGHTS
Prologue: too early for pda
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IT WAS ON A CRISP SUMMER MORNING THAT JEON JEONGGUK FELL IN LOVE.

He isn't quite sure of the exact moment of time that he fell— he doesn't even recall the date. All he remembers of the day is waking up swathed in the fluffy white duvet he had cocooned himself into— the blanket draped halfway over his torso and his arms spread wide like a squished starfish. The sloping face of the window had generously displayed the gorgeous periwinkle blue of the skies, still tinged with the faintest hints of a rosy pink from the wee hours of morning. Half of the room had lounged lazily in the shadows, still untainted by the gleaming illumination— and the other half, which unfortunately included his bed, had been blessed by the soft and gently caressing light. After a few painfully unsuccessful attempts at returning to sleep, Jeongguk had rolled out of bed with his eyes jammed shut and his mouth set into a frown— apparently, going to sleep at four in the morning hadn't been such a good idea after all.

The clear voice of Park Jimin had managed to slip in through the invisible cracks in the door of his bathroom, singing a melody while the sounds of clattering and the occasional low hum of the microwave had accompanied him. As much as he hated to admit it, Jimin did have one of the most lovely voices he had ever heard— it could lull a raucous baby to sleep with it's soothing beauty. However, Jeongguk didn't have it in him to hear the voice any longer after all the years he'd already managed to put up with him. Poking his head out of the shower long enough to bellow a "can you shut the fuck up" in the general direction of Jimin's voice had only resulted in the latter yelling back a loud "don't make me kick you out of my house"— and so, Jeongguk had resigned back to his watery grave, muttering incoherent insults under his breath.

As he'd assumed, Jimin had stood behind the polished chrome counter— dutifully mixing a fluffy batter within a large bowl, little flecks of the mix sticking stubbornly to the sides— his lower lip jutting out in concentration while he had flicked his wrist diligently. Jimin had lifted his head to quirk an eyebrow when he entered. "Well, don't you look like hell."

"Thank you," Jeongguk had countered with a snort, slipping into one of the hard backed chairs around the dining table. He had lifted his forearms to rest them on the table, half lidded eyes running over the nearly popping veins that bumped and grooved beneath the skin. "You don't look too bad yourself, midget."

Jimin had set the bowl down, pointing the batter coated mix at him while his features twisted into an unamused scowl. "Listen here, you little—"

"Language, Jeongguk," Yoongi had cut in coolly, emerging from the other room— ruffling his damp hair with a towel, his face calm and composed. He had walked towards the still fuming Jimin, pressing a quick kiss right beside the latter's lips— which resulted in a flustered laugh from a bright red Jimin and a disgusted sound halfway between a retch and a cough from Jeongguk. "You already didn't let us sleep for so long while you kept blasting music from your room."

"I was trying to keep myself awake so I could finish my assignment, hyung," Jeongguk had snarled, dropping his head onto the surface of the table with a low thump. From his horizontal vision, he could see Yoongi slowly wrap his arms around Jimin's waist while he rested his chin on his shoulder— the stupid, lovestruck smile emblazoned across his face that made him want to tear out his hair in frustration. Instead, he had merely straightened up with a loud anguished cry— shaking his head rapidly, tutting loudly. "No, no, definitely not. It's too early for your PDA, I want my breakfast."