we didn't start the fire

unfortunately i don’t have a plot page but i do have some ideas so pls just like this and i’ll roll into ur dms <3 // profile (half done im srry) / bio

thank u, pls come plot wit us!!!!!!!

that being said, do like this if you wanna plot and i will pop into ur dms. <3

Everything. A memory resurfaces. He kills it quickly. And afterward, Sunan doubts him more thoroughly.

“You shouldn’t think about it like that.” His words enunciate themselves more clearly, reinforced by the certainty of that internal denial, hand still rubbing consolingly. “Like it’s something you have to get out of the way. Not saying it has to be something special to you, either. It doesn’t. You can do all that when you’re ready to do things like that, though. It’s not like there’s some kind of existential checklist. Take your time, always.”

the influence sunan has on him is immense, and he’s sure it shows in the way he relaxes again, fingers stilling in their plight to stay busy. though he doesn’t mean to, he catches a glimpse of his friend’s earnest gaze and he can’t help but soften up further, the tension leaving his posture with a sigh. mostly. his free hand, the one not clasping sunan’s, takes to drawing shapes in the blanket, over the sand, lazy and leisurely, patterning out random swirls and squiggles as hamin stays quiet, gathering his thoughts.

“i’m not ashamed,” he speaks up, albeit softly, “but i appreciate you, as always.” he’s not afraid to be honest about things like this, it’s just some other things that he would need to take to his grave. the squeeze of his hand is involuntary, his eyes finally looking up and at the elder, searching. his own expression doesn’t shift, but there’s something he can’t place, visible on sunan’s.

“yes,” is the quiet reply, “uh-- he’s one of the only people around haseok i could actually tolerate,” it comes with a dry, humorless chuckle. tolerated is an understatement though, and he’s sure his best friend knows this, with the way his eyes followed the senior every time he had passed by them. “it is a small world,” he agrees, eyes flitting to the sun again, squinting as the light gets increasingly brighter.

there’s not quite an appropriate response that hamin can form, so he takes his time pondering as the sound of waves crashing seep into his ears. the storm was over, at the least, and he feels more free to talk about it now. “i get that,” his reply is confident, eyes glancing over at sunan as he speaks. “but i’m glad i did it. i feel sort of relieved,” he laughs, a rare expression, “maybe it’s a sign i’ll find someone soon,” he jokes, his fingers twitching as his smile falls before he catches himself.

taehyun chuckled, took a drag and put his weight back on his heels, back leaning against the bar ledge, and rested his elbows on the countertop. “i can’t complain much,” lies. he absolutely could complain too much but he didn’t want to scare away hamin. scare away a part of his past that wasn’t twinged with negativity. “i’m here with you, aren’t i?” he took another drag, flicked the end too many times out of nerves, watching the ash float down before looking back at hamin. 

biting his cheek, tae forced himself not to ask about his brother. threw a quick smile onto his face. took in hamin’s full height. he wasn’t kidding about him not being a kid anymore. this was someone who if he didn’t know any better, he’d try to talk to in a dimly lit club. “who knew you’d get to be so…” taehyun paused. took a drag. looked up and down hamin once more, trying to find the right words. felt the smoke in his lungs before breathing it back out. “… not a kid anymore.”

an idle hand taps an unrhythmic beat against the shiny bartop, his fingers unsure of what to do with themselves-- fidgeting was one of his lesser habits. it seems the ice has been broken a little bit from their unplanned reunion, so hamin at least finds himself relaxing a bit more, his tense pose loosening as he leans against the counter. his other hand loosely holds onto his half-dead cigarette, and he allows himself to take a closer look at the older man now.

he does look different, maybe a bit hardened, a bit more rough around the edges. but of course, like this he’s still just as, if not more, attractive than hamin remembered. he does find himself wondering what taehyun had been up to in the past few years, but he doesn’t bother asking-- the useless words just wouldn’t fall from his lips. he’s not a man of many words anyhow, so he figured he’d leave the other with an air of mystery about him. he definitely looks a bit more worn as well.

a languid blink, a pat down of himself to find his lighter again, the slow blink of his lashes as his eyes fix on the flame that licks at the end of taehyun’s cigarette as he lights it for him. the statement takes him slightly by surprise-- he doesn’t react for a beat, two, but a rare smile graces his lips and tugs at the corners, “that’s flattering. it’s pretty nice to be here with you too.” 

the honesty in his statement is clearcut, and the elder should know this, considering how little hamin interacted with others at school to begin with. ( especially those affiliated with his brother, but taehyun was an exception. )

the surprise just keeps following him because he feels a gaze, and it’s quite odd-- their roles are seemingly reversed from when they were younger and hamin was the one staring at taehyun every time their paths crossed. there’s an almost tingling feeling, zipping up his arms and tugging at his insides-- the attention was appreciated. “well,” he considers, taking another drag of his cigarette before he snuffs it out on the table with a long exhale. “the growth spurt was certainly unexpected.” he draws himself up and inches that little bit closer, their arms brushing, round eyes examining.

“i’d say i’m maybe a couple centimeters taller than you now, huh?” though his expression remains blank as always, the curl of his lips gives away his cheeky tone. “i’m definitely still scrawnier though.”

The taste of realization souring into acceptance.

“Did you really sleep with someone from this school, Hamin? I mean, I’m not judging you,” his occupation did require he’d be some sort of an aficionado at lying flawlessly, “it’s just that …  Didn’t you just say you hated Hannam?” The smile he has then is shaky in its guise of sincerity. “Don’t you think that’s going to come back to haunt you in some way?” Pushy. “Who was it?”

a pause. it takes hamin a minute or so to register the change in atmosphere, in the heaviness of the air after the weight of his news permeates it. the air around them seems somewhat colder. or, it just feels that way to hamin, his breath held as he waited for his friend’s response. though he’s not entirely sure what reaction he expected, it wasn’t this. the tone isn’t unkind, the questioning isn’t too invasive— but for as long as he’d been friends with sunan, and as perceptive he was ( but didn’t mean to be ), something was off.

hamin understands, of course, why the thought is so repulsive. after all, their relationship was built off of the past frustrations and bitterness, blooming into common interests and comfortable familiarity. hamin gets why sunan seems to be almost unbelieving, incredulous.

even though he understands, it still stings a little.

his fingers start to fidget. it’s habitual, born of nerves — of uncertainty and insecurity. the way his bones crack sound like gunshots in the still air, so he rests one hand in the blanket, one against his thigh to curb it.

“moon taehyun,” his voice is a little bit quieter, the slightest touch more reserved, soft enough to carry away with the breeze. “i don’t think so though,” his gaze is averted, his fingers now fiddling at the hems of his shorts ( at least it’s a quieter fixation ). “i think i’ll barely see him anyway—” a beat of silence, his lips running more and more dry.

He laughs again, though his internal fluster feels almost unbearable. It’d been because of that, hadn’t it? Two outsiders alienated by their school peers until they had eventually converged together, fusing in a friendship that seemed inevitable in retrospect. Staring at the water now, he couldn’t remember if Hamin had actually hated any of it or if he was reacting to how he had been treated. The possibility that Sunan could’ve been alone in his malice felt hollowing.

“I can’t really talk about Italy now, can I?” It’s light, another chuckle, gradual with a uncertainty he buries quickly. “I’m way too interested in your memory. What happened?”

“i actually don’t even know,” is hamin’s honest answer, can his brother swim? he figured it’s not useful information so he never inquired. “i’m assuming he can,” he muses, and his hand waves idly, dismissively, “i don’t think either of those things would kill haseok.” and it’s a rather morbid but optimistic statement, as if to say yeah drowning my brother or sending him to prison is fine. the idea is rather tame for the jin siblings, anyhow. hamin loops his arm through sunan’s, body relaxing into the warmth of his friend beside him.

his eyebrows furrow as a humorless chuckle bubbles from his throat, permeating the otherwise silent air around them. “i’d actually much rather talk about italy,” he admits, nose scrunching, not from distaste but from uncertainty. and he knows, knows and trusts sunan more than practically anybody else-- enough to know that he can tell him anything, everything. but hamin has odd butterflies flitting about inside his throat, blocking his words as if warning him to swallow them back down, be swallowed by the acid in his stomach. “that’s the truth, i still hate high school,” he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t honest with sunan ( except for some unacknowledged things left inside, buried deep down ). “and it’s not traumatic really-- not a great memory, but something i’ll remember.”

the statement is indeed truthful, hamin could count on one hand the good memories he made at hannam ( the majority of them being just sunan )-- but not everyone was complete shit, and maybe that’s how he ended up at this point. “i, uh,” and he’s uncharacteristically hesitant, but he figured getting it off his chest would be better than not. “last night,” he clears his throat, his slim fingers rubbing insistently at the back of his neck-- nerves.

tw: drug use 

hayoung hasn’t slept in days – unless passing out in the middle of nowhere after ingesting an astronomical amount of illicit substances falls is regarded as having a well-rested night. her body’s running on the thrill of mischief and the need for misbehaviour (and the copious amounts of coke she’d snorted); experience is the best teacher and so she has learnt that the moments which make for the best secrets all take place in the dead of the night. jaehyun’s obliged to deliver these skeletons to rose – and what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t bestow her investigative skills inane ability to be at the right at the right time?

what she doesn’t anticipate is hamin. his voice resonates through the silence, her histrionic shriek and abrupt stop in steps an entirely disproportionate reply to the hollow greeting of his hey. “jesus christ, hamin,” she cusses, clutching her heart melodramatically, as though to soothe its frantic thumps. she squints through the dim lights, his face obscured by the light but hayoung’s lived with hamin for twenty-two years, she doesn’t need to see him to know he’s got the same vacant look and hollowed eyes. (hayoung had once asked hamin if he was going to kill her in her sleep because ‘you have literal serial killer eyes.’ he’d just given her that same look with a ghost of a smile. hayoung locked her room doors that night.)

“why the fuck are you just standing there?” she probes, head tilted and brows raised expectantly. there’s something atypical of hamin tonight – she’s never glimpsed him in such a state of dishevelment before. what more, with two cups of drinks in his hand – wait, is that alcohol? she inches towards the drinks, takes a whiff to validate her hypothesis and the smell of tequila pervades her senses. hayoung knows, it’s a fact printed in black-and-white ink, brandished for all to know: jin hamin doesn’t drink. her parents spin it into an image of virtue; their morally upright son, with the willpower and grit, refusing to concede into the tempations of alcohol. “why do you even have alcohol?”

“hamin!” she whines, shooting him a mildly incensed glare, “you never drink when i ask! why now? did haseok make you do it? and don’t ask me what i’m doing or whether it’s past my bedtime, you’re not mum or dad.” she pauses, a cheeky beam that illumines the night growing on her lips. “also, i really don’t think you really want to know what i’m up to.”

“am i not allowed to just stand here now?” is the sarcastic, yet flat-toned quip. and hayoung always was good at riling him up, as much as one could rile up the seemingly emotionless jin hamin. and maybe that’s a sibling thing -- the unfallible talent to get under your skin. sarcasm isn’t a commonly used device in his normal speech, but hayoung never fails to bring it out of him.

“i didn’t drink it,” he sighs, and the tone is quite litereally bored, shaking the cups in both hands as if for emphasis. “a loud group just passed by and suddenly i had these,” he explains monotonously, eyesbrows furrowed in slight distaste. “it smells disgusting,” his tongue sticks out in a retching display-- but he couldn’t even cover his nose with both hands occupied. “i’d be more likely to listen to you then haseok,” he replies drily-- and he’s sure that hayoung knows this fact. 

“wanna take them though? i am definitely not drinking it,” he declares with another wrinkle of his nose. “i already drank some earlier--” and he realizes his mistake too late, his teeth clicking shut as he closes his eyes. “don’t wanna repeat the experience,” he continues with a defeated sigh. he seems to have a decent tolerance, though he was already uncomfortable with the memory of his fuzzy head earlier. and jin hamin, the least religious of all the siblings, says in all seriousness, “i can see why the call alcohol the drink of the devil now.” with another, barely noticeable expression of disgust, he thrusts both out to his sister, “enjoy.”

&& ‘ no thieves allowed ! ’ A STARTER — @chrhamin​

when it comes to his position, possible thieves were something to look out for as they were known to resell and he would be damned if someone tried to make a profit off his merchandise. so with that, he began to walk around the area where the male currently was looking. they say that hospitality was always the key to handling thieves, simply asking if they needed assistance was something to put them on edge and though yong didn’t always go out of his way to do such because he didn’t particularly like customers he couldn’t hurt to try.

“ is this your first time here? do you need help with anything ? ”

hamin, though devoid of any real passion or any sense of motivation, has always had an interest for good, unique fashion. and that’s how he’s drawn to stores like these, though if he were completely transparent, it’s maybe too commercial for his eccentric tastes. but he browses nonetheless and maybe it’s that he looks out of place in his ripped clothes, contrasting with his jewelry adorned ears and neck, hands and fingers, that he’s approached while he’s simply looking.

and of course it’s not that hamin can’t afford the things in this store ( could probably buy all of it more, thanks to his family’s bloody money ), but there was not exactly any thrill in that. he’s not sure when it started, his sticky handed habit, but it’s continued ever since. somewhere, in a nagging corner of his mind, it’s probably fueled by the desire to see just how far his parents would go to cover their own asses. and it’s fun, so far.

his gaze is dull, disinterested and bored as the employee approaches him. he hasn’t even done anything ( yet ). “no,” is his cordial response, his tone pleasant and entirely opposite of his blank expression. “i’m just browsing,” he respond airily, eyes doing another sweep of the store, seemingly disapointed.

“yeah, thanks kid,” taehyun said as he accepted the drink from hamin, not even knowing what it was. he took a sip, grimaced a bit as it hit the back of his throat. “what did you even order? this tastes like shit.”

he eyed the cigarette hamin was holding, wondered when he took up smoking, sipped on the drink in his hand. “you know those will kill you one day.” even after all these years, taehyun still couldn’t shake himself from wanting to take care of his junior. his own packet of cigarettes felt heavy in his back pocket. “how’ve you been?” he paused, looking hamin up and down. “you’re bigger now since i last saw you. our hamin is all grown up.”

it’s once upon a time that hamin’s eyes always seemed drawn to taehyun. even if he didn’t know it at the time-- taehyun was most likely his first, innocent crush of his adolescent life. whether it was because he always treated him kindly or gently, or because he admired his attitude and presence, or whether it was simply because he was downright attractive, hamin is grateful to have met taehyun in high school.

and maybe it’s common that old feelings resurface after a reunion, but hamin still feels a magnetic pull-- especially with the different air that hangs about the older man, he can’t help but wonder what had changed. leaning lazily against the bar counter, his eyes, rather flat in gaze as always, fix on taehyun unabashedly as he talks-- observing. “no idea,” he drawls with a small laugh, coughing out smoke as he does. “someone came and ordered a round of drinks, and i just ended up with it.”

“oh yeah?” he raises an eyebrow, “lovely. even better,” hamin deadpans before his lips quirk up into a faint smirk, “just kidding. do you smoke?” probably, is the unspoken word that lingers in the air between them. “and i’ve been...” he pauses, eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. “could be better, could be worse,” a dry laugh accompanies the cliche saying, followed by a shrug of thin shoulders. “and you?”

there’s a hint of defiance, a wry tint to his smile as he stands up to his full height ( he’s definitely hit his growth spurt since high school ), an eyebrow raising up, “yeah, of course, i’m not a kid anymore.”

Very good.

“I missed you.” He’s softer, finding himself somewhere distant mentally, reminiscent. A deep sigh. “It’s crazy. I had so much I was about to tell you but then,” omitting the bit about Hamin’s closeness to him then being the reason, “I forgot it all. I can say, though, that I’m never going to make any fucking memories here. I can tell you about Italy, however. All the paintings. My reaction when I came back to my apartment brimming with cat hair, maybe?” He nudges him again, elbow gently prodding amidst his snicker. “I like that you make yourself comfortable there, you know.” His hand inching forward slightly, hesitant. “It’s pretty cool.”

as always, as always, sunan can always seem to read his mind and always know what he’s thinking. his mouth was halfway open when the other chides him, and it closes again in a tiny chuckle and a shake of his head, an amused click of his tongue. his expression softens to hear the next words, and it’s fitting how his smile widens even though he knows the context of the phrase. “aw,” he drawls, liltingly, “i need you too,” and it’s such an honest statement, that he doesn’t mind letting it out. “shame i wasn’t there though, we could’ve tossed him into the sea.”

his head is lighter, breaths even and his eyes close, lashes tickling his skin as he rests against his friend. the sound is quiet, barely reaches his ears. but anything sunan says, hamin is always listening for-- so there’s no way he missed it. “i missed you too,” he answers without hesitation. and hamin is known for being disinterested, for not being curious-- but he can barely hold himself back from asking exactly why, when they used to be practically joined at the hip, they even have the spare time to miss each other.

“hmm, now i’ll be wondering for the rest of my life,” hamin heaves a dramatic sigh, sitting straight up again and fixing sunan with a harmless but pointed look. he breaks character too fast, lips quirking up, he can’t even pretend to be upset. and hamin has the decency to look almost sheepish ( jin hamin, of all people ) as he whistles, “oops, i thought the roomba had gotten most of it... she really sheds so much. but i would love to hear about italy.”

welcome again, can’t wait to write with you all soon!

The trip.

“It’s … okay.” Not a complete lie. Sunan’s chin settling atop his knees, gaze drifting towards the sea again, farther unto the skyline. “I bumped into your brother at one of the yacht parties.” A pause his smile temporarily vanishes within, picked up as he pushes on. His hand abandons the loop it had made around his legs, overturned and reaching for Hamin’s. “I’ve never met somebody as committed to being a dick as he is, you know, no matter how much time has passed. I still can’t imagine how you’ve lived with that.”

the humidity is starting to creep up, and hamin can feel goosebumps on his skin, moisture clinging to his now bare arms as the slow sea breeze wafts over them. he rubs the back of his neck ( and if he winces slightly because it’s a bit tender, the thought is brushed away as bad sleeping posture ), fingers tousling through his unkempt, overgrown hair.

“big sweaters are the most comfortable,” it’s a nonsensical and one-sided argument, really, considering sunan doesn’t disagree with him— but the lack of sleep has him drowsy and almost everything will escape his lips unfiltered. there’s a low chuckle as hamin nods, “hey, at least i’m in shorts.” and as often as sunan says things of such nature, hamin still feels a smug satisfaction somewhere inside, a coy and itching sensation at the fact that to sunan, he’s one of a kind.

lips purse, curling into a slight frown. hamin glances at the other, gauging his reaction before he just shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “i always tell you to ignore him,” he chides gently, “it gets easier with time,” — a dry laugh. he lets his head fall, lolling against sunan’s shoulder and resting there, his eyes following the rays dancing along the water’s surface off in the distance. an afterthought— an empty threat of a joke, he raises his head to look him in the eyes and say, deadpan, “say the word and i’ll help you jump him.”