Chapter Text
It was a loud crash that woke him up. He noticed two things in quick succession: it was too fucking bright, and his head was going to explode in approximately ten seconds. Jonghyun groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, heat be damned; his head was pounding and if he had to move or even breathe in the next hour he was going to empty the contents of his tortured stomach all over his mattress.
He could hear some muffled voices and shuffling from beyond the wall. The clock on the bedside table ticked loudly as Jonghyun’s stomach rolled and he panted, mouth open, as he buried his face in the musty pillow. It was hot and uncomfortable and honestly the blanket did nothing to block any of the sound, but Jonghyun felt sapped of energy as he nosed against the pillow, trying to find a cool patch.
Jonghyun could feel the sweat beading against his forehead, the back of his neck, the small of his back. He could feel his clothes sticking to his body and regretted not stripping down before he’d collapsed in bed the night before – or before one of his friends had dumped him there. He couldn’t really remember.
The voices from the kitchen grew louder and then there was a sharp clattering.
“Shut up!” Jonghyun’s voice ripped itself from his dry throat. Immediately his head throbbed with the noise and he moaned pathetically.
There was a peal of careless laughter and a melodic “Jonghyun’s awake~” floated to his ears.
Jonghyun’s throat was screaming for water and he was next to certain that he’d suffocate underneath the blanket in an absurdly hot haze of his own rancid breath.
A tinny din followed by yet another shattering sound is what finally spurred Jonghyun to rouse from his unpleasant cocoon. Shattering meant Taemin – if that voice he’d heard earlier was any indication – which also meant that he’d be jumped on if he didn’t show his face soon. With any luck, that was Minho adding to the racket and making food in the kitchen.
Steeling his resolve, his stomach gave a threatening lurch one last time before Jonghyun groaned into his pillow and pushed himself up. A wave of coolness hit his face as the blanket slipped off his head but in an instant it was replaced with the muggy air of the rest of the room. The rest of the world, more like, Jonghyun thought. His hair flopped into his face, prickly and itchy against his irritated eyes, and with a final bang from the kitchen, Jonghyun rolled out of bed. It was too hot for this shit.
The carpet was rough against his feet as he dragged them over the floor. He could practically feel the dirt and dust and who knows what else mixing into some disgusting film on the bottom of his feet but he blearily trudged on, unbothered. Honestly, he'd needed to vacuum for way too long but that was not happening anytime in the foreseeable future. Kibum had pressed him to do it for the longest time before Jonghyun had admitted he didn't even own a vacuum. The other boy had shot him a disgusted look and had never taken his shoes off inside since.
There were a few metallic clinks and Jonghyun could hear something sizzling pleasantly. He smelled bacon. That was always a good sign. Suddenly the toaster gave a loud beep and Jonghyun tripped over his own feet in surprise, stumbling and bumping into the wall.
“Jonghyun?”
Jonghyun gave a feeble whimper in response and shuffled into the kitchen. The linoleum felt like it was sticking to his feet but it was blissfully cool in contrast to the carpet. He briefly contemplated lying down on the floor right then and there before he remembered it had probably never been washed since its installation and discarded the idea. The kitchen table, however, looked relatively clean and was significantly less embarrassing.
Collapsing into a chair, Jonghyun immediately pressed his heated forehead onto the cool tabletop.
“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned into the wood.
“That’s what you said last week,” Taemin quipped, voice coming from where his head was stuck somewhere inside the refrigerator.
“Yeah, well I mean it this time.”
“You said that last week too,” Minho said from the stove.
Jonghyun leveled his back with a decidedly unamused look as Minho cracked another egg into his pan.
Taemin pulled his head out of the fridge and with him came a shiny red apple. Jonghyun wasn’t entirely sure where that came from and figured it must have been something that Minho had bought but one could never be too sure around there.
Taemin had the audacity to be wearing jeans even while Jonghyun was sweating out half his body weight through his armpits, and the kid even still had his socks on. Jonghyun’s feet burned at the idea and he turned away from Taemin, half convinced that just looking at how much heat Taemin was retaining was raising his own body temperature.
Minho on the other hand was dressed the same as Jonghyun, but just standing in front of a working stove had to be sucking any semblance of cold air out of the kitchen. The window was open, for all the good it was doing, and Jonghyun watched some phantom breeze ruffle Minho’s bangs as he flipped eggs.
“What time did you guys get back last night?” Taemin asked, flopping into a chair across from Jonghyun.
Taemin looked at Jonghyun and the older boy shrugged, having no clue.
After a beat of silence, Minho answered with, “not too long after you left.”
He started telling Taemin about how they’d left Kibum’s place, but Jonghyun’s attention shifted to the food Minho was piling on plates. Despite itself, his stomach rumbled loudly. Jonghyun scowled when Minho paused his recollection of the previous night to chuckle.
Finally, finally, Minho turned around to bring the plates to the table. It turned into a free-for-all, as it always did, the second the plates touched down, and Minho’s fingers had hardly left the worn glass rim when Jonghyun began diving in. He ignored everything and went straight for the bacon, piling it onto his plate by the handful.
Minho had made way too much food, as was usually the case the morning after a night of drinking, but since they almost always had company, nothing ever went to waste. (Not to mention that Minho could probably eat about four whole plates on his own anyway.) Taemin was scraping everything on his plate onto a piece of toast in some sort of strange semblance of a breakfast sandwich; Jonghyun half-noticed that Minho had – somehow, impossibly – already polished off half his plate, but Jonghyun was more focused on what was in front of him.
He moaned obscenely as he stuffed about three pieces of bacon into his mouth at once. Bacon was the ultimate cure for hangovers (and Minho knew how to do it right).
“Oh, you are a godsend, Choi,” Jonghyun groaned, voice gravelly and appreciative. He was rewarded with a smack on the back of the head.
“Just shut up and eat your food.”
But Jonghyun could hear the smile in his voice and he grinned before following Taemin’s example and piling some eggs onto a piece of toast.
“Breakfast” was a quick affair and it wasn’t until Jonghyun had cleared his plate several times over that he realized how thirsty he was. His throat felt raw and he needed something to drink before his whole body dehydrated and he crumbled into dust.
“Water,” he whined in Minho’s direction. Taemin was a lost cause, after having dumped his plate in the sink and having gone into the other room to crank up the volume on the television like the little brat he was.
Minho obligingly got up from the table. Jonghyun was grateful: it felt like the strength had been sapped from his body. He watched as Minho grabbed a large glass from the cupboard and filled it to the brim.
Jonghyun could have sobbed when his fingers closed around it.
“I heard glass earlier. What was that about?” Jonghyun asked after he had consumed approximately a pool’s worth of water.
“Taemin broke two more mugs.”
He placed the glass heavily on the table and sighed before straightening back up. “I hope you’re planning on paying for those!” Jonghyun shouted in the direction
of the living room.
Suspicious silence followed by a quiet snort was his response.
“Don’t count on it, hyung,” Minho said, patting Jonghyun’s shoulder before clearing the table.
-
Taemin whooped loudly and Jinki’s fist connected with the side of some poor and unfortunate soul’s face. The sucker went down and was out for the count in three seconds flat. After damn near ten years Jonghyun figured that people would have realized how pointless it was to challenge them for the top spot – these kids weren’t even out-of-towners – but hey, he wasn’t complaining.
Kibum was lazily watching from his position outside the fray as usual, perched on top of a bike rail like it was some sort of jungle gym. Jonghyun kept half an eye out for him; Kibum could take care of himself when he needed to, but sometimes the other boy got cocky and content and Jonghyun wasn’t risking someone coming up behind Kibum without him noticing again. Old habits die hard.
A loud grunt drew his attention to the side, away from the boy in front of him trying to crawl away shamefully, nursing a broken rib and a bruised ego. Jonghyun didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He turned in time to see Minho’s leg fly out and catch this big guy in the stomach. Minho in action was a thing of beauty. He was the only one out of them who had done sports and it showed – his stamina was better than any of theirs, followed idly by Taemin, and his years of training came with an awareness of every inch of his body and what it could do.
And he used it to his full advantage.
He didn’t just have the height; he had the speed and the power to back it up ten times over. Jonghyun may have been the best out of them, the most feared, (infamous, if you will), but Minho – Minho was the most impressive. The way he looked when he walked into a room alone was enough to make some of their opponents start trembling in their roughed up kicks. Maybe it was because of his powerful silhouette that most people thought Minho was the leader at first glance.
There was something special about all of them but Jonghyun secretly – somewhere deep in the back of his mind – believed that Minho was the most striking. (But you’d have to kill him before he’d admit it.) He didn’t have the crackling restlessness of Jonghyun or the frightening calm of Jinki. He wasn’t as brash and provocative as Kibum or even as markedly arresting as Taemin. Minho was unassumingly compelling and Jonghyun never quite got over it just as much as every single person who ever fought the boy.
Needless to say, Minho’s kick to the gut knocked the kid out and left him breathless. Jonghyun felt something seize his own chest and he coughed, chalked it up to the dry heat pervading their sleepy town.
“Hey!” Kibum called from the bike rail. “Fight better you losers, I’m bored over here!”
Jonghyun grinned and looked around. Seven or eight guys had “covertly” followed them from the convenience store and half way down the back road to the mall until Taemin finally got tired of ignoring them and turned around.
“You guys gonna fucking do something already?”
They had looked surprised before one of them stepped in front of the others and started some bullshit speech about how they were going to be the ones to take over the town. He got about half way through his second sentence before Jonghyun took a crack at his nose.
They weren’t really very good. It was clear from the get-go that these other guys were a whole lot of talk and not much else. Really, Jonghyun had been bored before they’d even started and they’d felled most of them easily in just a few minutes. For whatever worthless reason, the remaining two guys from the other gang, although clearly outnumbered and overpowered, refused to retreat. Honestly, they were all just fucking around by that point.
Taemin jumped on one guy’s back and started hollering, quite obviously freaking the other guy out. A loud laugh erupted from Jonghyun’s throat and he sauntered over to take a seat next to Kibum. He’d let the kids have their fun.
“Isn’t this just riveting,” Kibum drawled, staring out at the pathetic remnants of their “fight”.
Taemin was still on the guy’s back and the guy seemed to be panicking that he couldn’t get the boy off. He was spinning around in circles and stumbling all over the place as Taemin laughed. It was nice to see him having fun with it. Taemin was a small kind of guy, stick thin and bony (but packing a little bit of muscle lately, if Jonghyun had anything to do with it). He got picked out first in their lineup because anyone who didn’t know him well enough thought he was weak. He showed them pretty quickly that wasn’t the case, but he always had something someone needed him to prove.
“Absolutely,” Jonghyun replied. He leaned back against the rail and cracked his neck.
Jinki and Minho looked to be, for all intents and purposes, having a completely normal conversation – if one ignored the boy cowering at their feet. They weren’t doing much, just prodding him with their shoes if he made any move to get up. They didn’t have to do anything more, their fists had already done all the talking.
“Where’s all the hotshots?” Jonghyun groused after a minute of silence. “I’m so damn bored.”
“They probably heard about every other gang getting their sorry asses whooped.” Kibum pulled at the collar of his shirt, pushing the loose material back over his collar bones. “It’s so slow this summer.”
“I’m gonna start looking for them pretty soon.”
“Don’t you dare, Kim Jonghyun.”
Jonghyun just flapped a hand at him.
The summer was just winding up. People were out for break, children filling up the parks, adults filling up the benches, and the air was sweltering in the heated bubble of their town. The days were long and time stretched and stretched itself tight and thin to accommodate them. Not that it mattered much to any of them – Jinki was the only one still in school anymore.
“You’re just worried you’re gonna break a nail or something.”
Kibum could have said “fuck you”, he could have scoffed and ignored it but instead Jonghyun got a sharp slap to the back of the head.
“Shit, Kibum.” The slap smarted, stinging against the tender skin at the base of his head. “That fucking hurts.”
Kibum wasn’t physical very often, he preferred to keep his hands clean and fight smarter than the rest of them. But when he was, it was just as acidic as the biting tone of his voice could be. Some fucking sharp fingers that kid had.
Kibum just cocked an eyebrow at him and turned back towards the street.
The guy Taemin had been terrorizing finally gave up and tripped over his own feet, crashing down to the ground, sprawled out like a ragdoll. Taemin had jumped off his back as the other guy lost balance, landing on his feet like a cat. Once the guy had pushed himself up, he shot a frightened glance at Taemin and booked it out of there.
His friend, still on the ground between Jinki and Minho, looked up at the two of them, only to find them looking down at him with expectant expressions. Jinki tipped his head to the side and the kid scrambled to his feet and shot off after his friend. The other guys who had been knocked out were still on the ground, silent as ever, and Jonghyun figured they were either out cold or playing it smart and acting like they were until Jonghyun’s gang left.
Heaving a big sigh, Jonghyun pushed himself off the rail and called out, “come on guys! Let’s blow this pop stand.”
He heard Kibum snort behind him just as Taemin taunted, “really? That’s what you’re going with?”
Jonghyun hooked an arm around Taemin’s neck and dragged him close, digging his knuckles roughly into the younger boy’s skull.
“Can it, wild child.”
It was by unanimous and unspoken agreement that they continued along the back road and to the mall. Jonghyun couldn’t help but notice – really he couldn’t – that Minho kept an arm amicably around Jinki’s shoulder the whole way there. He couldn’t help but notice because even though Jinki and Minho walked the slowest of the five of them, they were walking in front. And so Jonghyun could see them pretty well even as he bumped shoulders with Kibum and him and Taemin play-shoved each other around a bit. Jonghyun wasn’t bothered by it or anything. It was just something he noticed.
They decided to stop by the food court and they each went somewhere different before grabbing a table and pooling all their food in the middle, buffet style. Jonghyun snagged some chow mein, tossing the bell peppers onto Minho’s plate because Jonghyun hated bell peppers but, conveniently, Minho loved them. Minho grinned in thanks and Jonghyun tossed another piece onto his plate slightly erratically.
Taemin was half way through their collective pile of fries before Kibum caught him and pulled the bag his way instead. The kid didn’t look it but he could eat like a freaking horse. They all did really; they had the biggest appetites of anyone Jonghyun had ever met and no matter how much food they bought, they’d clear it all, no problem.
Jinki was lost in his own world, head practically buried in the plastic bag his food was contained in, and Jonghyun weighed the pros and cons of attempting to sneak some. If his hand got anywhere in the vicinity, it was possible he’d lose it before he even touched anything. Jinki was in one of those ravenous moods.
Jonghyun picked at his food a little, something sitting heavy on his mind. He couldn’t put his finger on it, couldn’t quite place what had been bothering him for the last few days. A slice of pizza dropped onto his plate, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked over and met Minho’s eyes. Minho, cheeks puffed full of food like a chipmunk and eyes wide and bright as always, nodded his head towards the pizza.
Jonghyun’s brow furrowed before he gave a small smile and dug in.
Now, they’d been getting stares since the minute they stepped in through the doors (Minho was a giant, Jonghyun had bright-ass hair, and Kibum was just flashy in his own right) but those were more-so curious glances. It was more obvious when they were walking around – loitering really – because those glances were disapproving and slightly distrustful and, really, more than a bit snobby.
But now that they were out in the open, laughing and fooling around and just generally existing among the general public, that was when the stares got bolder. They got stares because, even though they weren’t all that worse for wear, they were a little scuffed up and it was clear they’d been fighting. So people avoided them even though they weren’t really doing anything wrong. They were just a little louder than what was socially acceptable.
And people probably just freaked out because, let’s face it, they weren’t exactly known for their sparkling reputation.
They passed the empty children’s play area, a squishy foam haven of oversized objects that used to be their main mall hangout back when they were all in high school. They’d ruled it back then, taken over the area with their slouching and foul language and leers.
But they weren’t kids anymore, so they walked by it and headed towards some clothing store. They didn’t buy things too often – no mall rats ever did – but they walked in and looked around because they were bored, they had time to kill and, most importantly, they had nothing better to do.
Kibum headed towards the racks, dragging along a clearly unenthusiastic Jinki. Kibum was the most concerned with his appearance (and secretly Jonghyun followed at a somewhat distant second) and he surveyed the clothing with a critical eye. Jonghyun strolled in between some displays, fingertips brushing along the hems of shirts. His hands weren’t really dirty and he wasn’t totally preoccupied with the idea of messing anything up but a young female sales associate was giving him a concerned look.
Jonghyun walked around a mannequin, fingering the fabric of the shirt softly, and gave her a sexy little smirk. Her eyes widened and she looked away, face aflame as she pretended to busy herself with stocking jeans on a shelf. Nice.
And then Jonghyun fell into shadow and felt a warm, firm body pressed close behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“Jesus, Minho,” Jonghyun huffed, pushing a little at the taller boy’s chest. “Ever heard of personal space?”
“What’s that?” Minho gave a slightly wicked grin. Jonghyun couldn’t help but grin back, even as he punched Minho in the arm.
He looked around; Jinki and Kibum were buried in the clothes somewhere off on the other side of the store and Taemin had run off somewhere as he was wont to do. Jonghyun noticed the girl still staring in their direction, trying to hide it, pretend like she wasn’t watching them with a little more interest.
“Hey, c’mere,” Jonghyun whispered excitedly, tugging Minho forward and down.
“Wha -?”
“C’mere, c’mere,” Jonghyun said again as he draped his arms over Minho’s shoulders lazily. Minho, thrown off balance, steadied himself with large hands on Jonghyun’s hips. Jonghyun was struck with the odd idea that Minho’s fingers could probably wrap all the way around his waist and he tossed his head, flipping his bangs out of his face.
“What’re you doing?” Minho whispered conspiratorially, forehead knocking against Jonghyun’s lightly as his lips pushed up in an amused smile.
“Fuckin’ with the sales chick over there,” Jonghyun said, dragging a hand up into Minho’s hair.
“Oh you are, are you?” Minho’s hands shifted, arms wrapping a smidge tighter around Jonghyun.
“Yep. Wanna see if she freaks out.” Jonghyun stepped closer.
“Yeah? How’s that working out?” Minho nuzzled his forehead against Jonghyun’s once more before Jonghyun stepped back.
The sales girl’s face was burning, her mouth agape as she openly stared. From her point of view of Minho’s back, that certainly must have looked like something. Jonghyun caught her eye, raised an eyebrow with a self-satisfied smirk, and she snapped her jaw back up, turned away sharply. She was embarrassed. How cute.
“Pretty good,” Jonghyun said, appeased. He didn’t need to say anything though because Minho had turned his head to see for himself, and Jonghyun got a good view of his sharp jaw before Minho’s soft chuckles drew him back.
“Come on,” he said, throwing an arm over Jonghyun’s shoulders. “Let’s go see if we can find Taemin.”
They didn’t. They found Kibum and Jinki in the changing rooms and Kibum declared everything here was cheap and the cut of everything was terrible. Taemin found them, popping up beside them smoothly just as they were walking past the security alarm gates. He did that a lot, disappearing off somewhere, both in his own head and in person. But he always came back.
-
They had a tent just under the freeway entrance. They’d put it up shortly after they met, in a dirty, abandoned area behind a fence. Their meeting was rough, just like their little hideout, but it was a comfort, as all these things ended up becoming. Jonghyun had been hiding, trying to get away and Minho had suddenly been there, in Jonghyun’s space, and he’d never left since.
It used to be that they had to fight to keep people away but now no one came anywhere near it if they could help it. It was their place and no one else’s. Occasionally, the five of them met there, but none of them were there unless Jonghyun and Minho were there. It wasn’t even the gang’s place, just theirs.
It wasn’t much, just a couple weather beaten tarps and some dusty blankets. But it was the first place they’d ever made theirs and it had been their haven throughout the years, even after Jonghyun moved out of his parent’s place and Minho moved in with him.
They hadn’t been the first to meet – that was Jonghyun and Jinki – and they hadn’t even really hit it off right away either (that was Jonghyun and Kibum). But there was something electric there, and Jonghyun couldn’t let that go even if he’d wanted to. And of course he hadn’t. So Jonghyun had pulled a very reluctant Minho out to the edge of town into this grungy litter-hole of an area and showed him the paradise left behind.
Minho had not been impressed. But Jonghyun had convinced him soon enough and they’d made their place. Minho had been the first – the only – person Jonghyun had ever shown that place to. And for a long time after they’d formed their mismatched little puzzle of a gang, Minho was the only person who could ever find Jonghyun because he was the only person who knew where to look.
Sometimes when people drove by it they could see the two boys nestled underneath the blanket, laughing and shoving at each other, emanating none of the dangerous, wild energy that they usually gave off. They just looked like normal teenage boys.
-
They made a run to the convenience store, aptly located just a block away. It was late afternoon and probably too early by most people’s standards, but they’d deemed it the perfect time to start drinking. Hell, according to Jinki, it was never too early (so they were actually running a little late by his clock).
Minho cruised through the aisles aimlessly as Taemin sped past with the cart, locked on target to the back wall where all the refrigerated cases containing the elixir of life were kept. Jinki was already waiting there impatiently, arms full of cans. Taemin screeched to a halt and Jinki dumped the cans in, turning back to grab more. Jonghyun bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, carefully depositing the bottles he’d had spread between his fingers.
He was doing it again, drinking – exactly what he’d said he was going to stop. But it was true this time; he wouldn’t get drunk and wake up with a brain melting hangover. He had it all planned out: stop drinking before Kibum and he’d be fine. (It was when he tried to match Jinki that he ended up shitfaced. That man could drink a whole ship under the table.)
But since they were starting so early it was a casual kind of thing. Just hang out, have a few drinks, maybe kill a few zombies. Minho had gotten a new game and Jonghyun was convinced that no new game could be fully appreciated in their place without being experienced whilst just a little bit tipsy.
Taemin pushed his bangs back off his forehead, hair slipping forward again, parted in the middle. “Hyung, don’t you think that’s enough?”
Jinki had loaded the cart pretty well and even Jonghyun had to admit that it was bordering on just a bit excessive. But only just a bit.
Jinki made a face at him. “Whatever we don’t drink tonight I’ll put in Jonghyun’s fridge.” He thought for a moment. “Or bring it back with me.”
“Whatever,” Jonghyun said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re paying anyway.”
Kibum appeared in front of Jonghyun right as he turned.
“Hey, buy me this,” he said, shoving a can into Jonghyun’s hands.
Jonghyun turned it around in his hands so he could get to the label. Iced coffee. “Where the hell’s your money?”
“Left my wallet at home today.” Kibum’s head tipped back.
“Okay,” Jonghyun conceded and turned towards the register. “But don’t drink this tonight.”
He bought the drink and handed it off to Kibum, the two of them waiting by the doors. Jinki and Taemin loaded everything onto the conveyor belt and Jonghyun had to admit, it was a shitload of booze. But his humble abode was not complete without at least three cases of something or other lying around. The ground was lonely without them. It was just the way of things.
Minho ambled up slowly behind them, a couple bags of chips dangling from one hand. Jonghyun caught his eye and nodded towards the bags. The other boy cocked an eyebrow, lips pushing out in some weird pursed pout. Jonghyun’s eyes dropped into a squint and he nodded quickly, nose wrinkling. Minho’s face smoothed out and Jonghyun huffed internally. Anything to get him to stop making that dumb face.
They left the store, arms loaded with heavy bags. Jinki started whistling a familiar tune and Taemin mumbled the song underneath his breath as Kibum looked on with fond eyes that he showed only when they were all alone.
As Jonghyun slipped the key into the weather-beaten lock, he knew he wouldn’t be drinking hard. He joked about it a lot, they all did, but they actually weren’t ones to get wasted all that often. Today was just a day to drink with friends and have a good time; they could let loose when they were all gathered on the couches, kicking back watching some terrible movie or chatting or, hell, Jonghyun really thought they could be talking about botany and he’d enjoy every second of it.
He dumped his bags on the low table in front of the TV and went to take a piss. When he came back, there was an assortment of bottles and cans spread out on the table, bags of chips open and waiting, and the television droning on as background noise. Taemin had taken up half of one couch, as was his M.O., and Minho was next to him, arms spread out over the back. What the fuck, he was a giant noodle.
“Excuse me?”
Jonghyun blinked. “What.”
“Did you just call me a noodle?” Minho voice was incredulous.
“Did I?” Jonghyun’s face screwed itself up before it smoothed out and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, it’s true.”
Minho snagged Jonghyun’s arm as he was walking past and dragged him down. Jonghyun stumbled onto Minho’s lap, arms suddenly trapped by one of Minho’s own massive, noodle-y arms. He struggled, wiggling and trying to get free, as Minho’s fist descended onto his head in an enthusiastic noogie.
“Oh, hey!” Jonghyun shouted. “Not the hair, man – come on!”
Minho’s fingers spread themselves out, palm pushing into the crown of Jonghyun’s head to further displace his hair. Jonghyun gripped at Minho’s forearm, feeling like he was fighting against a boulder. He couldn’t move him an inch.
“If you two lovebirds would cut it out,” came Kibum’s drawling voice. “We could actually start watching this movie.”
“Start without us,” Minho said happily, pushing Jonghyun’s hair into a stunning imitation of a tumbleweed.
“Uh uh,” Taemin tutted. “You guys are the only ones that can get that VCR to work.”
Minho’s hand stilled and Jonghyun slipped out from under his arm. “What? Still?” Taemin nodded, handing Jonghyun the VHS.
He walked over to the VCR that was probably older than all of them combined and kneeled down, fiddling with it. “I thought I taught Jinki how to use it.”
“Yeah, but that thing hates me more than it hates Taemin.”
“Huh.” Jonghyun pressed play and the pathetic thing whirred to life.
If anyone ever asked them why they kept watching tapes on a battered VCR, they’d look around at each other with puzzled looks and come to the resounding conclusion of “no clue”. It’s what they had and, yeah, they could bring out one of their laptops or hook it up to the TV and watch a DVD that way but this was just the way they did things and it suited them just fine.
It didn’t matter much anyway, because they always wound up picking some B-movie and they inevitably ended up talking over it.
Jonghyun settled down in between Jinki and Kibum, skin already soaking up their body heat from the proximity. There were two small fans pointed towards the couches but the room had been cursed to exist without a ceiling fan and was, of course, slowly turning into the sixth circle of hell.
“Scooch over,” Jonghyun whispered, nudging Kibum’s leg with his knee.
Kibum retaliated by laying his legs across Jonghyun’s lap. But just as soon as he’d pushed Kibum’s legs away, they were replaced by Jinki’s. Betrayed, Jonghyun turned to him with the best kicked-puppy-left-out-in-the-rain look he could manage. Jinki’s eyes turned into crescents and Jonghyun’s heart dropped. Then Kibum’s legs came up to rest on top of Jinki’s, and Jonghyun’s heart dropped even further.
He resigned himself to thinking cool thoughts and grabbed a bottle of beer to press to his face.
Halfway into the movie and finished with his second beer, Jonghyun absently grabbed a bottle from the table. His eyes drifted down to the label and -
“What the fuck is this?” Jonghyun laughed, holding up the fruity liquor bottle.
All eyes turned to him and Jonghyun gestured at the bottle vigorously. Jinki cracked a smile.
“Oops. Must have accidentally let that one in there.”
Jonghyun didn’t miss the wink that Minho and Jinki shared at his expense. He sighed down at the bottle like he was doing the rest of them a service by taking one for the team and drinking it anyway. But it was still hard to hide his smile as he twisted the cap off.
(Jonghyun would make fun of fruity drinks until he was blue in the face but, cross his heart, they were his favorite kind.)
Some hours later, empty cans and bottles littered the table and the muted sound of digitized gunshots played staccato through the room. Taemin and Kibum had left, Minho had headed to bed, and Jinki and Jonghyun were all that remained. Jonghyun had finally pulled out Minho’s new game and he and Jinki were coexisting peacefully in their mutual destruction of zombies.
They had been sitting in comfortable silence, punctuated only by grunts of frustration and quiet exclamations of happiness, interspersed with the occasional curse.
Jinki’s shoulder bumped against Jonghyun’s.
“Hey.”
Jonghyun hummed and jammed his thumbs against the buttons of his controller.
“Jonghyun.”
“What?”
“What are you going to do after all of this?”
Jonghyun paused, fingers slipping over the buttons briefly. “After all what?”
“After the gang.”
The controller hit the floor with a loud clatter. Jonghyun’s fingers were shaking. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in trepidation. “The gang is –”
“I know you think this is forever,” Jinki interrupted calmly, fingers skipping over his controller like he was talking about the weather instead of this. “But we can’t all just keep doing this forever.”
Jonghyun’s blood ran cold in his veins.
“I know this, you know this, the others know this. You need to have a backup plan.”
“So – what?” Jonghyun turned to him angrily but Jinki continued staring ahead seriously, face set in hard lines. “You think this is all just gonna fall to shit? You think I’m just living in some fantasy world and you’re all going to magically grow up and live perfect lives while I’m stuck in this “little gang thing”?”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Jonghyun.”
“Enlighten me, then.” His voice was rough, scraping through his vocal cords like gravel.
“You know you can’t do this forever,” Jinki said softly, turning to him finally. “Whether you want to or not, you have to get a job sometime. We all do. We can’t just stay exactly like this forever.”
Jinki stared at him with those sympathetic, sad eyes and Jonghyun looked away. “We can’t just keep pretending we’re invincible.”
Jonghyun was silent, mind an uncomfortable dull roar as he tried to find his vantage point. He distantly remembered the discarded controller on the ground and picked it up, hands running over the scuffed plastic almost unfamiliarly. His character had died a few times over, respawned in an area too far away, but it didn’t matter; he stared at the screen with glazed eyes, unmoving.
“Once upon a time, I thought I was going to drop out of high school and just make music,” Jonghyun whispered, staring at the wall. “Then I met you guys and I actually felt like I was worth something.”
“Jonghyun –”
“You know I’m not fit for school. It’s great that you’re still doing it,” Jonghyun said emphatically, grabbing Jinki’s hand. “But I don’t have the head for it. I can’t go back and do that again.”
“You could think about getting a job,” Jinki said quietly. “It doesn’t even have to be now. Just think about it. Make a plan so that one day you’re not out here all alone without money or any of us around.”
“There’s nothing out there for me,” Jonghyun said, smile coming shakily onto his face alongside the tears prickling behind his eyes.
“I can’t read about you someday, Jonghyun.” Jinki’s composure finally broke. “I can’t read that you died alone in your apartment or something.” His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t want everyone out there living except for you.”
“I can’t –”
“Yes you can,” he replied forcefully. “You’re fucking smart, Jonghyun, even if you don’t think you are. You don’t have to go back to school, you don’t even have to get a job right away. Just do something and show me that you care about yourself, and not just us.” Jonghyun was holding onto Jinki’s hand like a lifeline.
“I do –” Jonghyun broke off.
“Please, Jonghyun.” There was a moment of tense, stressed silence.
“The gang is all I have,” Jonghyun whispered brokenly.
And then he broke like a dam, tears spilling over his cheeks in salty, distressed rivers. He’d known this for a long time, for too many years, for too many uncomfortable nights. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, shoved it back in a dark and dusty, locked corner of his head to rot, in fact. Jonghyun felt Jinki squeeze his hand comfortingly and he realized, like a mind out of body experience, that he had to be quiet or Minho would wake up. (And that was the last thing he wanted.)
Still, his chest heaved in repressed sobs and he kept crying, feeling like he wouldn’t be able to stop until he was wrung completely dry.
“You shouldn’t have drank even as little as you did tonight,” Jinki said kindly, running a soothing hand down his back. “It always makes you even more of a crybaby than usual.”
Jonghyun hiccupped, a watery laugh bubbling up his throat, and buried his face in Jinki’s shoulder in retaliation.
Jinki let him cry there, soaking his shirt in salty, hot tears, until the shaking subsided and his throat didn’t feel closed up anymore. He felt drained, muscles loose and wobbly underneath his skin. There was a headache pounding behind his skull and Jonghyun was sure his face was a blotchy red mess. But – he still had Jinki there.
It would work out somehow (even if he didn’t want to think about it still).
Jonghyun must have cried approximately his body weight by the time the tears finally stopped, his throat dry and nose still runny. His face felt sticky, all the dried tears leaving crusted tracks in their path, and he probably looked like he'd been dipped in hot oil for how bright and red his face must have been. He resolved not to look in the mirror for a few hours (though, unfortunately, he couldn't spare Jinki from having to see his face).
“Feeling better now?” Jinki asked quietly, grabbing a napkin from the table and gently wiping Jonghyun's face.
Jonghyun nodded, feeling like a child.
“I didn't mean for the conversation to end up like that,” he continued, voice a soft mist.
Jonghyun's eyes locked on his face but Jinki wouldn't look at him.
“It's okay,” he said, giving up. Instead, he leaned into the taller boy, body feeling too heavy to keep himself upright on his own anymore.
Jinki held him, a soft jingle of music playing from the idle game screen. Jonghyun tucked his face into Jinki's neck, the fabric muggy and warm from his tears, but he didn't care. Eventually Jinki pulled away gently and Jonghyun tipped over against the arm of the couch. A click from behind him, and then the room plunged into darkness, only the muted blue glow from the television illuminating the room. And then that was gone too a moment later as Jinki switched it off. There was a minute of silence, filled only by the whisper of clothing, as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, then Jinki was carefully making his way back over to the couch.
Jonghyun felt Jinki's hand on his arm, could barely make out the shape of his silhouette, before he was tugged upright. Jinki climbed onto the couch and enveloped Jonghyun in his arms once more, guiding him to lay back down, safely in his arms, the two of them pillowed together. Jonghyun relaxed, feeling Jinki's even breathing against his neck, the minuscule push of his chest against Jonghyun's back as he breathed in, out, in, and Jonghyun's breathing slowly followed.
“Love's a weird thing.”
What?
Jonghyun's breath hitched before evening out once more.
“Don't you think?”
“What are you talking about?” Jonghyun asked in trepidation.
A light bulb seemed to go off in Jinki's head and Jonghyun could almost see the light casting on the far wall.
“Oh – no, Jonghyun. I don't – I mean I do love you, but not like that.” Jinki was tense behind him and the wobble in his voice made Jonghyun smile.
“Well I wasn't hoping!” He said in his loudest whisper. He was happy to hear Jinki say that; the other boy kept a lot of feelings to himself sometimes and Jonghyun liked being let in.
“But...” Jinki trailed off. Jonghyun silently urged him to continue, rubbing his thumb over the back of the hand Jinki had tossed over his stomach.
“Do you think it's wrong to like a friend?” He asked finally.
Jonghyun's eyes had slipped closed but he raised an eyebrow at that.
“No?” He thought for a moment. “Why would it? Love usually comes from friendship anyway.”
Jonghyun's mind whirred into sleepy action, clanking around clumsily as it tried to piece scattered thoughts together. Loving a friend was sometimes the best thing. It could be terrible – if they didn't love you back, if the friendship was ruined – but how great was it to love someone you already were close to, knew inside and out. (He thought it sounded pretty great). But so tired was his exhausted head that he forgot to say these things out loud.
It was quiet for a long time and Jonghyun thought Jinki had fallen asleep before there was an even quieter question.
“Do you think friendship is ruined by love?”
“No,” Jonghyun answered, slowly realizing that Jinki had been on the same train of thought, a single moment where they lined up and were, for once, oddly in sync. “And love isn't ruined by friendship either.”
Their hushed whispers leisurely gave way to the silence of the night. Jonghyun curled in on himself, knees hugging his chest, back curved against Jinki. He felt Jinki give him a light squeeze and then fall still.
Remind yourself of that sometimes, Jonghyun, he thought he heard.
-
Jonghyun had a truck that ran on more hope than gas and was as old as balls. Or the sun – whichever was older. It was the one thing his dad had ever really gifted him in his life and despite his rickety relationship with the man, as creaky and uncomfortable as the car itself, Jonghyun treasured the ancient piece of shit.
He had a tendency to run away. From just about everything but his feelings really (and sometimes even those) and having his own set of wheels helped. He’d gotten the car as a reward for his repeated desperate push to graduate high school at his mother’s wish – school had never exactly been Jonghyun’s forte, his grades had been apprehensively passable at the best of times and he had a penchant for just getting up and leaving when he didn’t want to be there. Why waste yours and the teacher’s time, right?
So he’d leave. Not for very long, a few hours at most, maybe. Sometimes it was even as short as a couple minutes. He’d leave, collect himself, and come back because home is where the heart is and all that jazz, and his heart had always been with his small but tightknit group of friends. And they weren’t leaving anytime soon.
Before, he would take a stroll around town or hop on a bus and ride as far as the change in his pocket would take him. But now, now he could give any of them a look (or a text, if they weren’t within looking range) and they’d pile into his car and just drive.
That was Jonghyun’s favorite part. He was 173 centimeters of a sappy sentimental and nothing made him happier than seeing his friend’s smiles. They’d cram themselves into his beat up little old car, skin sticking to the sweaty faux leather, roll the windows down and drive wherever the hell they wanted. More often than not, one of them would open the sun roof (yes, an honest to god, fucking sunroof) and stand up on the seat, shouting out into the open air as they sped down the highway.
He’d driven them down to the beach a few times, a lonely beach a couple hours away from town where the sun never shined and the sand was always just on the side of painfully coarse. They’d push each other in the water and look for crabs and climb rocks – all the things good boys like to do – and when the weak spot behind the clouds finally went down for the night they’d lay down some blankets and settle in against the sand to sleep.
Jonghyun might have had the shittiest car in existence but he’d drive his friends anywhere.
-
The world was channeling the inside of an oven. The temperature had jumped up ten degrees from the day before and, with no air conditioner or ceiling fans, Jonghyun felt like a roasted pig. Or an ant when some snotty little kid turned a magnifying glass down on them just so and they went up in flames. Little assholes.
The clock had just crept past two in the morning and the heat was only part of the reason Jonghyun was still awake. He’d laid down to sleep almost two hours prior and – nothing. Nothing but this shaky pounding in his chest, veins slowly constricting around his muscles, legs buzzing with some unknown intent. Jonghyun had plunged the room into darkness: heavy curtains over the windows, lights out, the whole nine yards.
And still, nothing.
It didn’t help that the room was so fucking hot that he could feel how damp his clothes were all over. Sighing, Jonghyun sat up and shucked his shirt off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness where he would likely forget about it until he ran out of clothes and had to go over to the laundromat in swim trunks and a hoodie. (Not that that had happened before or anything. Of course not.)
Sporting only a pair of worn, drafty boxers and figuring that he might as well forfeit the idea of sleep, at least for a couple hours, Jonghyun slid off the bed. He blindly felt his way to the door until he could reach out and flick on the hallway light. Light flooded his eyes and he squinted, wincing because, okay holy shit that was really bright. Sightless once more, Jonghyun shuffled down the hallway until his eyes had adjusted to the light, careful to keep quiet so that he wouldn’t wake Minho.
He was about to turn into the kitchen when he spotted Taemin on the couch.
Taemin, who had been flopped over the arm, looked up from his phone when Jonghyun dragged himself into the room. He gave a little wave and then turned back to his phone. Jonghyun wasn’t surprised; Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin each had a copy of their key (kept very hush-hush because it wasn’t strictly regulation, you see) and it wasn’t uncommon for any one of them to stop by for a night or two.
They practically all lived together anyway, even though really it was only Jonghyun and Minho. Technically it was only Jonghyun – his was the only name on the lease but, again, hush-hush. The others were transient guests, occupying the living room whenever they need a place to crash for whatever reason and he was happy to oblige. Jonghyun got it. It was all good.
Jonghyun continued his trek into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. It never helped anything but he was so into his routine that he supposed it didn’t really matter. Maybe breaking the cycle would just make it worse, who knows.
Taking a sip, he walked back out and sank down onto the couch, next to Taemin in the dark.
“’Sup?” Taemin said casually, not looking up from his phone. Jonghyun watched the way the light bounced against Taemin’s tired face. It cast weird shadows over his cheeks and under his eyes, causing everything to look stretched and shrunken in. Jonghyun blinked.
“Why are you still up?”
“Why are you?” Taemin shot back.
Okay, touchy subject.
Jonghyun put his hands up in placation and relaxed back against the cushions. He rested his glass on his thigh, balancing it unsteadily with his fingers.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered anyway. Taemin probably knew already –that, or he didn’t care.
The other boy hummed idly, fingers still against the side of his phone. He was staring intently at it but Jonghyun hadn’t noticed him move since he’d sat down.
“Hey, Taemin,” he ventured cautiously.
When Taemin hummed again, he continued. “Everything alright?”
Taemin looked up sharply and for half a second Jonghyun thought he saw a look of panic on his face. But it was gone in a flash, might not have ever been there at all, and his face smoothed out into a smile.
“Yeah, sure! Peachy keen.”
But for all that his mouth was smiling, Jonghyun could swear he saw a sad shimmer to Taemin’s eyes. He left it alone, though, because if Taemin didn’t want to talk, then he didn’t want to talk. Jonghyun wasn’t going to make him do anything. Taemin was a big boy, and if something was bothering him and he needed help then Jonghyun knew he’d ask them.
They sat in silence after that, Taemin still staring at his phone and Jonghyun’s eyes crossing in and out of focus. His gaze distractedly fell to the floor.
Taemin was gone by morning, having slipped out sometime in the few hours Jonghyun had been able to catch some sleep. He woke with a start, body jerking slightly. The room was filled with soft early morning light and Jonghyun nearly groaned. He hadn’t slept for long. Everything was cast in a thin blue filter and Jonghyun rolled his head along the cushions wearily.
At some point he had tipped over to sprawl across the scratchy couch and he had numerous thin indentations staggering across his cheek. Jonghyun rubbed a hand lightly at the skin, futilely trying to get rid of them.
It was still hot.
It was still hot and the couch was itchy and it really didn’t help that he was almost completely naked because that just meant that more of the couch touched his skin. Still, Jonghyun closed his eyes again and listened to the faint whir of the refrigerator. There were some birds outside, chirping away annoying as ever and Jonghyun lazily imagined what that would sound like if he had his head buried in the dirt.
From down the hallway there was a faint click and then a quiet squeak as Minho’s door opened. There came the soft padding of Minho’s bare feet against the carpet and then a muted sound of plastic shifting and Jonghyun felt a cool breeze against his face.
Jonghyun waited for the sound of Minho walking away, but it didn’t come. He waited a moment longer and then slowly cracked his eyes open in time to see Minho bending down next to the table. The dim morning light caught the muscles on Minho’s bare arm, shifting as he moved to pick up a glass. Jonghyun’s glass. It had rolled off the couch and under the coffee table sometime while he’d been sleeping. Minho picked it up and Jonghyun watched the way Minho’s boxers creeped up his thighs.
As Minho straightened up, Jonghyun’s eyes slipped closed and he pretended to be asleep once more as he heard Minho deposit the glass in the sink with a metallic clink.
-
Kim Kibum, the biggest wuss to pain in the history of the universe, was getting a tattoo. And of course Jonghyun was the man designated Kibum’s official hand-holder for the trip even though it meant he’d probably have all of his fingers broken in the process. Jinki had tagged along for support and Kibum made a fuss about it, complaining that it “wasn’t that big a deal” and he’d be “totally fine. God you guys it’s just a tattoo.” But Jonghyun could hear the relief in Kibum’s voice and, judging from Jinki’s pleasant smile, he could too.
It was when Kibum was shirtless in the chair with the woman rubbing alcohol over his exposed shoulder that the shaking got really noticeable. Jonghyun, who had been sitting off to the side, out of the way, scooted his chair over and grabbed Kibum’s hand. He was smoothing calming circles over the other boy’s skin, for all the good it seemed to be doing.
Jinki shifted his chair closer and ran a gentle hand down the back of Kibum’s hair. His shaking seemed to lessen, if only slightly.
The design was stenciled on and the needle was procured and Jonghyun could see the tendons tight in Kibum’s neck.
“Breathe, Kibum-ah,” Jonghyun murmured.
The needle touched down on Kibum’s skin and Kibum’s grip on Jonghyun’s fingers became crushing. Jonghyun had steeled himself for it but Jesus Christ that boy had a strong grip on him. He knew the whole process wasn’t going to take long but each second that Kibum cut off the circulation to his fingers felt like it dragged on for twice as long as normal. He wondered what it was like for Kibum.
About half way through, when Jonghyun felt the knuckles in his hand scraping together, he tugged on Jinki’s sleeve violently. They switched out and Kibum grasped Jinki’s hand in the familiar death grip.
“Okay, okay,” Jinki said weakly, arm twisting down as if following Kibum’s hand would make the grip any weaker. “Ow. Kibum. My hand.”
But he took it like a champ – and so did Kibum – and after the most drawn out and painful ten minutes of Jonghyun’s life, Kibum had a brand new tattoo across his shoulder, stark black ink standing out harshly against his red, shiny skin.
Kibum’s face was drained of color, his bangs slightly damp with sweat, but he looked relieved – and more importantly, he looked happy. Jonghyun knew that Kibum had been weighing this decision for a long time and he’d sat in as the soundboard many a time as Kibum threw the pros and cons back and forth as if they were a ball in a tennis match. But once Jonghyun saw the way Kibum looked at his tattoo in the mirror, eyes going soft and almost peaceful, he was glad that Kibum had finally decided to do it.
He’d gotten the constellation Libra, his birth sign, stretching out delicately across the smooth, pale skin of his left shoulder. It was simple, mostly tiny dots and thin lines, but among the stars of the constellation, there were five larger ones. Jonghyun stared, mesmerized, as the ointment was applied and the stars seem to almost twinkle at him.
After he was all bandaged up and ready to go, the three of them left the shop. Kibum’s shirt covered most of the bandage but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from where the tip of it peaked over the collar. Jinki suggested they go get ice cream and Jonghyun vaguely thought he agreed but his head was already off in a different place. It wasn’t until they each had a cone in their hands and they were walking back that Jonghyun popped the question.
“Hey, do you guys think I should get a tattoo too?” Jonghyun asked, metaphorical tail wagging double time as he walked with an excited bounce in his step.
Jinki shot him a disinterested glance and licked ice cream off his lips. Kibum on the other hand leveled him with a look that said are you kidding me right now.
“Yah!” He said, brandishing his cone like a sword. “You only want one because I just got one.”
“No!” Jonghyun denied, lying through his teeth. “How do you know I haven’t been thinking about getting one for a while, huh?”
“Because when I first asked you about it you said you’d rather drop a hammer on your foot,” Kibum said flatly.
Jonghyun’s nose crinkled. “Yeah, well, whatever.”
Excitement deflated, Jonghyun licked dejectedly at his dripping ice cream. That metaphorical tail of his hung sadly between his legs as they walked, Kibum and Jinki chatting about something or other that Jonghyun wasn’t listening to.
He could so get a tattoo if he wanted. It wasn’t because of Kibum. (Well, it wasn’t just because of Kibum.) Whatever. Jonghyun could be cool too; he’d just do something else. Like get another piercing, except maybe this time it would be somewhere other than his ear, like his eyebrow or some other cool place like that. And it’d be way cooler than a tattoo.
He perked up at that, rolling ice cream around in his mouth, and wondered what Minho would have to say about it.