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He cracked open an eyelid, as if to ascertain that it really was Wonwoo he was speaking to, and thus satisfied shut his eyes again. “Thanks, Wonu,” Junhui said, halfway to a yawn. Junhui patted blindly at the air around the sink, and Wonwoo picked up his toothbrush and handed it to him. Wonwoo was brushing his teeth and steadfastly not making eye contact with the moth in the mirror when Junhui wandered in, eyes closed, hair pushed off his forehead with one of the frog-eye headbands Joshua had bought Minghao as a joke, except then Minghao ended up using them in complete seriousness. Being around him in any capacity means getting up close and personal with the fact that he attracts improbabilities like a question from a mathematics textbook.Įxhibit A: two days ago there was a moth on the windowsill in the bathroom that everyone mostly pretended not to notice, because it was large and in an indeterminate state of aliveness and understandably, nobody wanted to risk it. Junhui is a lightning rod for the inexplicable. Wonwoo considers himself a pretty rational person, but when it comes to Junhui there are just too many things he’s at a complete loss to rationalise. In the distance, there is an uneasy exhale of thunder. Soonyoung has a variety schedule in the afternoon, which is why Wonwoo knows the weather forecast is clear skies for the entire day. I think it’ll be nice, it hasn’t rained in a while.” “It’s going to rain later today,” Junhui says, apropos of nothing. At the start of the conversation, the blinds hadn’t been drawn Wonwoo is almost certain of it.
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It feels like encroachment on Junhui’s territory to walk in properly, as though his presence encompasses the entire room. Wonwoo is still hovering on the threshold between the rooms. Junhui rights himself, tucking his legs underneath himself. The sun shifts lower, light slatting over Junhui through the blinds in honeybee stripes. “I would never willingly touch a fruit that wasn’t a lemon.” “Sometimes you just have to open the fridge, stare at what’s inside, and close it again,” Wonwoo says. Or at least that’s what Wonwoo thinks the expression is it’s a little hard to parse, inverted. Junhui is draped upside-down on the couch in the buttery parallelogram of sunlight through the window, legs hooked over the back of the cushions, watching him curiously. Wonwoo pauses in the doorway, half a step behind crossing over from the kitchen to the living room. “It’s you!” Junhui’s voice floats across the room, detached from its source. Sometimes the Way It Rains Reminds Me of You, Colleen J McElroy I think of days when this weather meant you were not so far away the light changing so fast I believe I can see you turning a corner