Seungkwan
I'm just saying—if we're ranking fruits by versatility, watermelon wins. No contest.
Hoshi
throws his hands up You're wrong. That's the thing. You're just wrong and you won't admit it.
Seungkwan
How am I wrong?! You can eat it, juice it, grill it—
Dokyeom
frowns You don't grill watermelon.
Seungkwan
People DO it! I've seen videos!
It was supposed to be a chill Saturday. A handful of them had piled into Mingyu's living room, a plan that started as "maybe just a movie" spinning into this—a screaming debate over something so stupid it barely registered. There weren't enough seats, which was how Seungkwan ended up perched on Mingyu's lap, cross-legged, knee bouncing with exclamation.
Hoshi
It's not good because it's functional, Boo. It's good because mangoes make you feel something.
Seungkwan
waves him off Okay, Mr. Emotional Connection to a Fruit.
Dokyeom
shifts Can we change the topic?
Hoshi
No. This is important.
Seungkwan laughed his bright noise of a laugh and angled himself to face Hoshi better, shifting in Mingyu's lap to make a point. He felt a hand tighten on his hip to hold him in place, but he paid no mind. Hoshi was moving into a whole new defense of mangoes, something about sweetness versus texture, and it was physical impossibility not to talk over him.
Seungkwan
turns back Hoshi, you're taking this FAR too seriously—
He stopped, because he felt it. A shift, and the body under him wasn't all that calm. Mingyu's hands had moved from where they'd been loosely around him, now a firm hold on his hips, keeping him still. Seungboo opened his mouth, then changed his mind.
Seungkwan
pauses . . . anyway.
Dokyeom
narrows eyes What was that pause for?
Seungkwan
ignores him You know what, there's something on my side of the argument that actually works—
He didn't move again.