Summary: Accidents happen so easily. Or maybe they aren't accidents.
... but you really don't want to ask.
A curious glance. "Stop what?"
"Stop... doing what you're doing."
"What am I doing?"
There isn't really any way you can tell Donghae that he looks like someone just slaughtered his dog. If he had one. That droopy look residing on his face kills you, and makes you want to squash it in, but at the same time, it's just so cute that you want to— ... nevermind. But goddamnit!, it's annoying.
"I'm not pouting," Donghae argues levelly.
If your veins could pop out of your forehead, they would. "Yes, yes you are."
"No, no I'm not."
"I can feel you pouting! It's like this giant wave of pout!"
"Well, I'm not."
God, you're having a crap day.
"Donghae, don't argue with me. You are the epitome of the pout."
He flails. "I'm not arguing! ... or pouting!"
So you decide to whirl around from your position leaned up against the counter, and you crash your mouths together. This isn't planned in the least; you just think that maybe if you kiss him he'll shut up and stop looking so adorable and—is that mint you taste?
There's a choked gasp, and you both break away to look over at the source of the sound. Looking much like a deer caught in a headlight, Sungmin offers a very cheesy, very undoubtably embarrassed smile. "I was just..." he looks like he's going to say something else, and then starts again. "I was just looking for a snack."
You just stare at him.
Sungmin grins. Stupidly. Perhaps somewhat awkwardly. Then pauses. And at last, grabs the bag of shrimp chips off of the counter, not caring that they're almost all gone. "And here is a snack. Um, well. Goodbye." He even has the decency to wave before departing, and you just crane my head back to face Donghae. you stare.
Donghae stares back. Then starts talking, as if the subject is completely normal.
"Do you think if we tried that again, we might get Ryeowook to pop up and faint? Because that would be funny."
"No, it wouldn't."
You abruptly start walking away, and Donghae trails after you, arguing that it would be, and you can't help but smile behind your fist.