( after dark )

N.EX.T - “Fly, Chick”

“i’m not worried,” he says, voice getting slightly high pitched, so he tries to make it normal again. “not worried at all.” not much success.

without even thinking he enters the room, completely uninvited. he bites on his lower lip as he stares at the tv. turned on. there is no one watching. not a single soul watching the fucking tv why is it on? and then he looks somewhere else, at the desk. his heart does that thing when it twists and turns and he knows anxiety is coming. there are papers all over it. the pens they are all over but where they are supposed to be. there are two cups of coffee, one that taehyun is sure hasn’t been used in a while. he looks closer, almost gasps. one of the cups left a coffee stain on the desk.

unacceptable.

against better judgement, he tries again. "hey, tae—" dean saunters after him into the room, warning held at his lips that maybe, just maybe it'd be best for the sake of his possibly frail, germaphobe health to not look so hard at the mess, but a second take at taehyun's expression has him thinking 'nevermind' and dropping the effort once and for all. the damage's already been done, and saying that "it's not that bad" just might not be a good idea, for better or worse. 

she looks at the curve of his cheek again, absorbing the familiarity of his guarded demeanour, his disaffected tone of voice. at some point, he’d turned nonchalance into a second skin. haejoon doesn’t wear it as well as he thinks. seventeen and disillusioned. seventeen and not so unusual, but not unimportant either. 

when did he learn to look so tired?

she lets out a brief hum, frown worn soft. her eyes turn to the melting tip of her melona bar. fishing through the jar, she settles a matching green gummy bear into the imprint of teeth left behind. 

a guess, an inkling, a trace of premonition—there's never a real beating around the bush around her. couldn't imagine trying to, really. not when honesty's a growing a habit—admittedly, not worn with the same sharpness, the same clarity that sulli brandishes the tendency—groomed meticulously. somehow it's easier, always easier, to cut right to the chase in moments like these, stretched slow and thin, nearly timeless. 

he leans against the side of his bed, eyes wandering over to the trail of glow in the dark stars still taped to the ceiling. how long has it been since he first got those? 

"well, the first is obvious: i got caught. " he snorts softly, seemingly amused, at first. but truth be told; there's guilt laden somewhere in there, tinted blue and heavy. he's only ever good at putting it lightly. next to his desk sits his backpack, and it's from there that he reaches over for what's kept in one of the side-pockets. gingerly, he pulls it out, places it on the floor: the pack of cigarettes. 

"but i went back and bought a second, anyway." he taps on the box. "it's the same kind that my dad used to have." there's no need to look at the calendar, the day left unmarked. when they'll have to bring out the incense, the fresh fruits, wipe the frame clean of dust.

then again, there’s been different situations that had reminded him. times when week long absences in texting has become months and even hit a year at some point. often it would end with friendship that fade away. ones that could have lasted longer but just…didn’t. so he can’t help but treasure these friendship that have managed to last in this new technology/texting age. especially haejoon of all people.

[ kkt to | hae 형 ] well i don’t think i know anyone else in your major [ kkt to | hae 형 ] unless you know people to introduce me to 😜

there’s a grin on his face as he responds back, comfortable enough to make the joke although still mildly regretting it after a few seconds and quickly he types afterwards in hopes of sending

[ kkt to | hae 형 ] although don’t worry you’re still the best

but the sounds of the door opening, and the sudden volume increase of chatter from the room leaves taewon in surprise as he jumps a bit from shock. even so much as to suddenly lose his balance and fall on his bottom. with a wince, he quickly stands up, hand wiping the debris from his back and trying to put on an expression as if that never happened. right on time for him to come face to face with haejoon’s crooked grin.

“did you think it was my ghost that was sending you those messages?” he mirrors the grin with his own, straight and pearly whites exposed for all to see. “would it be too shocking to say i missed you and feel tonight would be a good night to catch up. or should i be more subtle..” he offers and reaches out to put his arms around haejoon’s shoulder and pull him for a one-armed hug. “like telling me how wonderful of a class you probably just had instead.”

not with that kind of height. christ, what'd they even feed this kid? 

"hey, did you grow talle—?" but the question is cut short, and he shakes it off, dismissive. his eyes are probably playing tricks on him. moving on—

"it wouldn't be too far off from the truth if i thought it was, you know." he jokes, offering a light punch against his shoulder. in a much more metaphorical sense, naturally, keeping in mind taewon's sporadic activity when it comes to keeping tabs on any messages. but there's no mind heeded to the matter, it wouldn't really be haejoon if he were to nitpick, especially so when it came to the case of his friend—more delighted ( and relieved ) that he's been holding up just fine.

but a breath into even mentioning, sarcasm or not, the near-death experience that had been this morning has him shifting gears: one moment, the portrait of a perfectly happy young man; the next: a look of pure dread that not even the most skilled of professionals could capture. 

( yikes. ) 

"jesus, let's—let's not go there," the smile returns, albeit weakly, as he's pulled into  "bad doesn't even cover it, man, but anyway," back to square one: "you missed me? wow." he presses a palm over his heart, complete with an expression of mock surprise to show how incredibly flattered he was. 'that's a first,' is oh so close to slipping out, but then he remembers that the last time ( and the time before that ) had in fact, not been instigated by him at all. suppose that's how his friend pleasantly manages to surprise him, time after time. it's always the nice ones, huh? 

so it’s not really a surprise that draws him into that guy who’s sitting just a few steps away from him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. the bizarre scene picks up his attention and has taehyun stuck in place, eyeing him from afar, unlit cigarette just a few inches away from his lips. he stares at the boy for a while, chest weirdly heavy as he looks at him. there is something about the scene that makes it melancholic. if taehyun has ever to describe sadness, he’d think of that boy and his cigarettes - one burning, one left yet to burn.

it’s out of character for him to approach strangers like that. kim taehyun would much rather be alone than talking to anyone, and yet here he is: walking towards him in slow steps, this odd sense of empathy hitting him as he gets closer. he clears his throat, places his own cigarette pack on the table.

he turns his gaze to the other, expression lined with muted puzzlement before it changes slowly, passing over to reveal a soft smile. "that's actually really considerate of you," a chuckle follows, wry and uncertain, as he's not sure what to do with this sudden act of generosity, even more so that it's coming from a stranger. something about his voice, demeanor—or maybe it's the little alcohol he's had that's talking, sobering as it might be—that makes him feel steady, anchored. a hand grabs for the box, and he turns it, this way and that, as if he's considering using them instead.