step 12- thursgay

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Step Twelve: Smile! Smiling, scientifically, makes you more approachable and likable. If you can't find a reason to smile, then make a joke! Ah, but let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?

I wake up at the crack of my butt.

Oops, I meant the crack of dawn.

Dawn is at approximately 5:56 here. I went to sleep at approximately 5:13. I'm doing great. In the approximate hour and a half since waking up, I've stared at the ceiling and thought about my life choices and why I made them. All approximately, of course.

Please excuse my massive brain farts.

Also, about this step: a joke? It's that simple?

If all I needed was a joke, I would just exist. My whole life is a goddamn joke.

Smiling? Nuh-uh. I'm not in the mood for that right now.

I sigh—

Changbin stirs beside me. He opted out of sleeping on the couch, and my guest bedroom was transformed into "The Man Cave" last year. Jisung and I go there when we want to cry over Minho and Changbin. Or stress. Or how far away the nearest Kurger Bing is. Or how other gay boys in our school are getting boyfriends but we're single. Or how few friends we have and how depressing it is. Or—

Yeah.

I got off track.

I look over at Changbin, and, with my ears a-flaming and my cheeks a-blushing, I press my hand gently against his forehead. It's a normal temperature.

"Changbin?" I ask, shaking him awake. The lights are off, so it's not like he can see me blushing. He looks up with slits for eyes.

"What..." his voice cracks. I almost coo out loud. He has messy hair and morning breath, and his voice sounds so soft and groggy. I resist an almost overwhelming urge to cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss all over his bloated face and, instead, force my eyes back up to meet his.

I tug on Changbin's shoulder. "Bin, get up. School starts in thirty minutes." I give him a smug look. "Actually, thirty-four minutes, if you want to be exact."

"Groan."

I make an ugly laughing noise. Changbin did not just say "Groan" out loud instead of actually groaning.

I drag him out of my bed.  I'd like to make it known that I slept on the couch last night. Changbin seemed disappointed; maybe I should've let him sleep there. He probably felt uncomfortable in my bed and wished he could have slept on the couch. Stupid Felix, I'm so dumb.

Changbin rolls out of the bed and falls on the floor. I cringe and anticipate the angry neighbors down below. Every time I drop something and it makes a loud noise, they go to the spot on their ceiling where the noise came from and—

"Shut up, demons!" a disembodied voice says, accompanying a few other colorful words and a fist being hit against my floor. Changbin flies up into the air, surprised, and lands in his feet.

Magical, my brain thinks. I can't disagree for religious reasons. Changbin is my religion; Taeil is my God (Taeil is a student who went to the school a few years ago; I don't know why he's God, but he just is). Jisung is my Satan, and Minho is half-Lucifer and half-Santa Claus. Why, you may ask, Santa Claus? I don't know, but Minho gives me Santa vibes.

Minho-ho-ho.

'Tis the season; I suppose.

I fry eggs for breakfast. "Yum," Changbin says emotionlessly. Then I see him spit the poor, little, and burnt would-be chickens into a napkin. Yeah, I'm a terrible cook. I can only make instant ramen, instant udon, vegetable soup, microwaved chicken nuggets, microwaved leftovers from my last Chinese food binge, and tea. I don't think making tea is considered cooking, though.

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