How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams." —Bram Stoker
“Taemin.. I like it.” He nodded with a grin. “22? Alright. Well, how are you then bro?”
He pursed his lips into something almost akin to a pout as he looked down, briefly tugging at the hem of his shirt, before he looked up, revealing the playful look still in his eyes. “Does age really matter?” he queried lightly.