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Summary
"So apparently they aren’t coming,” Soobin said flatly as Yeonjun walked back up to their table, phone tightly grasped in his hand.
“Yeah,” Yeonjun parroted, pissed. “Taehyun-ah said this is him inciting ‘tough love’ and that we need to ‘get along,’ what bullshit,” he glanced back down at the flat and unimpressed look painted over Soobin’s face as the artist slowly slid back into the booth across from him.
They sat in charged silence for a moment, neither quite sure which direction to move next. So Soobin took the lead, “if you want to leave I understand.” He hoped more than anything that providing Yeonjun an out would be the easiest and quickest way for the night to end without inevitably blowing up in his face. Yet, much to his surprise, Yeonjun didn’t immediately stand to leave. Instead, he sat a little further down into his seat as he chewed on his bottom lip, arms coming up to cross over his chest.
“Well,” he sighed deeply as if he couldn't believe he was about to say his next words. “We're already here.”
(ie: the worst possible thing that could ever come out of spilling your coffee on a stranger.)