|"I can't feel my face anymore, oh God," Hoseok groans as he cups his face with his hands, then smushes his cheeks. His eyes are wide open and his lips are parted into a weird sort of shape Yoongi can't make out through the haze of his inebriation, but Yoongi is just sober enough to know that Hoseok isn't close to passing out or throwing up on the table just yet. It's in the way Hoseok is able to shake his head without letting out a soft whimper, or in the way he manages to nudge Jimin — bless his poor, knocked out soul — in his side without jamming his elbow against the table. It's in the way he manages to pick up the half-empty bottle of soju right in front of him without accidentally dropping it to the floor, instead pouring Yoongi another shot before wondering why he'd done that. It's in the way manages to refocus with five, six blinks before swimming back to the surface and addressing Yoongi with a nod, in the way he's able to pick up where he'd left off, pressing sweaty palms to his face again as he says, muffled this time, "Is this even a face? It feels like... jelly. Right — my face feels like jelly. Or marshmallows, yeah. Oh my God, what if—what if the human face was actually just a clump of super strong marshmallows? What if?"|
Yoongi heaves a sigh and drags the bottle of soju closer to his side of the table. Only ten in the evening on a Friday and his friends are already drunk off of their asses. Jimin had promised to take them to some underground bar just a block or two away from that massive art store in Hongdae, but in the end all the guy had managed was to join them for two bottles of soju and a ranting session on their recently concluded exams. Hoseok, well... He'd promised to pay for the first round because, I wasn't able to give you a gift on your birthday, anyway. Lemme pay for round one, but hey — just the drinks, alright? Just the drinks! Don't order food! But then a drunk Hoseok meant Hoseok forgetting his promise, which meant Yoongi would have to pay for everything and that he would have to drag these two assholes back to their shared dorm in the campus without passing out halfway through, which meant sore limbs the following day.
"Assholes," he mutters under his breath, then snorts when he looks up at Hoseok and finds the latter staring at his reflection on his glass of water. He can't say he minds, though — it's been ages since he's last had the chance to hang out with these two. Heck, it's been ages since he's last seen them at all, not counting all those times they'd passed each other in the corridor, in between classes. Exam season turns everyone into ghosts, zombies, strangers. He's lucky these two can still recognize him despite the longer hair, to be honest. He's luck they still found him just beneath the thick and heavy eye bags, the side burns and the makings of a beard sculpting the planes of his jaw. "And yes, that's—that's still a face. Not a bunch of marshmallows. Your face is still—"
Familiar, says a voice in his head at the same time that he spots a familiar figure nearby. A slightly hunched back curbing confidence, the shy tilt of the head, those bright eyes— Fuck, that's too familiar. Too damn familiar. He's shit at names, can't string together the right words for a rehearsed enunciation half the time, but fuck anyone who tells him his ability to recognize faces is pathetic. He'd gotten through nearly his entire academic life just by memorizing the stuff he sees on the chalkboard, on textbooks, in the daily news. He's gotten home after every wild night out with Hoseok and Jimin from Lord knows where just by knowing the colors and shapes and the shadows of each and every single building in their area. He's memorized the face of each and every single person he's spared more than a passing glance at like the back of his hand already that the gentle swell of that mouth? The jut of that lower lip? The shape of that body even if the people passing by blur Yoongi's vision, his focus, and shake him up?
Familiar, echoes a voice in Yoongi's ears, barely above a whisper. When the man turns to look in his direction — That face, I know that face, I know you — Yoongi drops his gaze to where his hands are — balled into light, feeble fists on the table, shaking. Trembling. Familiar. Too familiar. Too damn familiar.
airplanewishes, you're up!