Living Wild and Free

rules regarding the drabbles:

if you reblog the post, you must send prompts to at least two other people who’ve reblogged it, including the person you reblogged it from (unless it’s me, keke.)

so that everyone can easily read the drabbles that others are posting (because let’s be real, we all love to creep), tag all drabble posts with “ssdrabbles”. 

if you think that the prompt is something that can spur a relationship between your character and the other character, or if you would like it to be, feel free to plot it out more and post the drabble in starter form using the RP wide drabble tag.

He smiles a little at Jongup and clucks his tongue cheekily in response, “we’ll have to see won’t we hot shot?” Zelo wonders briefly (as he watches the other go through his routine, like all the others that had surrounded them) if he was merely talking to himself.

Standing by the car he slaved an entire afternoon over, Zelo leans against the door and tries not to snort in dismay. “I’m way over my head in this,” he kicks the tire and pulls out a cigarette from his back pocket to ease his mood, “we’re both pretty fucked huh?” Zelo leans his head back blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “well, let’s rip this place up anyways.”

He slides into the car and backs out of the driveway onto the designated street, third down. Unlike the usual dig, this particular organizer opted for set lengths; determined though lottery, chosen when the racers paid their dues - a handicap of sorts for the group of newbie participants in one of the most well organized drag races available in Seoul. Zelo slows the engine to adjust the strap on his helmet and slides on a pair of thick gloves he had nicked off a drunken man.

It wasn’t the first time Zelo had participated in a drag race (back when he was still new enough to be careless, the boy burned away the money Seunghyun showered on him like oil) but it was one of the few times there wasn’t medical staff at his beck and call. He straightens his back, tilts the rear-view mirrors and revs the engine in time to the flagger walking up to greet the lineup.

Behind the series of cars, Zelo keeps a steady eye on the mirror, giving each new car a once over in hopes of discovering the dancing puppy from before. It doesn’t take him long to spot a vehicle that reminds him of the boy and Zelo smiles behind his visor. Well, well, he picked a bad lot didn’t he? The cars around him hummed in anticipation; three rounds, winner takes all.

Zelo flexed his fingers against the wheel in time to the second clock.

Three.

Two.

One.

By the end of the first corner on the last lap, Zelo’s already chasing the tail of Jongup’s vehicle roaring to life in front of him. He curbs the road, taking a detour to meet the car in the middle of the second turn, wheels squealing in protest as he throws the entire car into the turn, hand bracing on the emergency break, willing the car to make the turn without flipping over. 

He succeeds enough to pass Jongup’s car with a sputter and Zelo accelerates himself past the third turn. A glance out the rear-view mirror shows his bumper being half eaten by the unrelenting car kicking down his tail and he swears up a storm as something shoves into his side—

In that split second, Zelo let go of the turn and his luck ran out as the vehicle that popped out of no where from the middle of an alleyway rammed him from the side again.

His vehicle flips onto its front end like a somersault.

It rolls twice forward before crashing down on the side.

Zelo likes to think that he’s a careful person; someone who knows how to take care of himself despite the sting of glass imbedded in his thigh and the metal plate digging into his back is enough to make his eyes bleed red and he swears his fingers aren’t trembling.

He manages to lick his lips, wetting the dry skin as he gnaws on the side of his mouth in a desperate attempt keep his vision steady. Zelo shifts his shoulder, ignoring the shot of pain curling up into his spine and pops the edge of the front door open. In a daze, he briefly notes that he’s dripping oil and it didn’t take much of a genius to smell the spark of gasoline on rubber.

Zelo manages to not scream when he rips his shoulder and back away from the metal ridges of the car (and he’s bleeding bleeding bleeding and its just not stopping) as he stumbles out of the front seat. Falling on the ground a couple feet away, he rolls his head backwards as the young boy tugs the glass shards out of his leg.

He can sort of hear the car explode behind him.

Zelo says a moment of silent prayer for the engine he crafted and then laughs. He rubs a hand against the grime of dirt and grease and blood wondering if this is what it felt like exactly ten years ago.

He supposed it sucked that much too.

Zelo tossed the helmet on the ground.

He didn't even mind when he was passed up by a few cars, one namely that boy he'd met before. Jongup was more sure than all of that, he knew when to hug the turns and drift off to the edges of the straights. This wasn't his first time doing a course similar to this and that was his private advantage. He knew a little secret, that most drivers tended to hit the NOS too early, using up the boost in the last straight when the best time to hit it was halfway through the very last turn, right before the end of the race. That way it gave just enough of a boost to pull the car out of the turn and force it out the other side, rather than boosting the car through to the turn which would just make it a bit more difficult to steer through anyway. 

The thing is, if you wanna pose for junkie, you have to buy drugs, really buy drugs, as often as it is expected from junkie. And of course you can’t just flush them down the toilet, no, you have to officially  stock them in the police magazine. What makes a job of undercover a little bit hard. But what matters is that you know who’s selling what. In the reality arresting dealer won’t help much. There are ten waiting to replace the one arrested. But it is always good to keep tabs on them, and that was Jongjin job most of the time.

Jongjin knew almost all dealers out there, he met them during his ten months of work, so he thought tonight won’t happen anything new. When he asked barman about something stronger then alcohol the man directed him towards the right guy discretely, the Crests ever so polite, it was sometimes hard to believe they were mafia. He just nodded thanks giving him a tip, to stay on his good side, and strutted toward the dealer. The bouncers gave him once over, and let him pass, as by now everyone knew him – a junkie that pays for his shit, which was good enough.

Tonight, it didn't really matter though, he was making good rounds already and the night had barely begun. When he got a tap on the shoulder he hardly expected it to be someone he'd dreaded in high school, hardly expected someone so adamant about the dangers of drugs and abuse to fall into the traps of addiction. He stared blankly at first, surprise written clearly over his features, unsure what to say until he finally mustered up the courage to say something. "What are you doing here?" He asked, the thought of this being some sort of trick on him darting through his head. Maybe it was some type of hazing, maybe the Crests were tricking him and brought in Jongjin to kick his ass one more time before they really accepted him fully into the fold. He took a cautionary step back before speaking to him again, just in case.

Watching him squirm his way back towards him like a lost puppy, Zelo couldn’t help but snort a little. He ruffled the boy’s hair as a greeting and then smirked leaning down to mouth, “don’t pant like that baby” in his ear. Pulling away, satisfied with the pinkness in the other’s cheeks, Zelo shrugged his shoulders languidly, “so what if I was? Are you going to charge me for the show?” 

He waited a few seconds, blinking back at him slowly before looking down at his phone in despair. The screen had cracked due his temper earlier but the text message read loud and clear despite the chips. With an audible sigh, Zelo nodded, “yeah. I guess I am.” 

The quick assertion surprised him and Zelo immediately lifted his head to stare. After a few seconds of silent appraisal, he snickered a little, pinching the other’s cheeks, looking horribly amused. “That was cute but I can’t lose. My paycheck depends on this and I didn’t slave over that engine all day to not get anything back from the damn bastard.” 

Zelo thought for a moment then looked back down at his phone, “although I might not mind if I can bring you home instead. I think you’d make a much nicer prize than that stupid looking trophy.” He paused, letting the words sink in before doubling over and laughing. “Aish you should have seen the look on your face. Relax baby,” Zelo reached over to ruffle his hair again, “you’re not my type.” 

He didn't have a chance to say anything, not that he probably would have said much to that in the first place. The laughter that followed, painfully aware that it was directed at him, had him frowning once more. He wasn't his type? What did that even mean? Sure he wasn't the most attractive guy on the planet, but never once had any of the girls at school called him ugly, nor had any of the girl's he'd asked out turned him down. He was pretty sure that the other just needed to see him without his shirt to change his mind, but either way he would definitely make it a point to show him he was wrong about that little statement.

"I think you could probably call me hyung... I mean how old are you? Did you even graduate yet? You're tall but.. you got these little kid cheeks." He smiled again at that, reaching up to pinch them even though he was sure his hand was going to get swatted away before he made it. "My name's Jongup, Moon Jongup. Don't worry, if you forget you'll hear it again when they announce me as the winner. Maybe your paycheck is riding on this, but so is mine. I'm not gonna give it up so easily." He checked his watch again, drawing his arm back before it was dismembered. It was about time, if he wanted to be ready he needed to get back to his car and do a quick check over everything. 

Rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly, Zelo tried to smile waving it off, “no I just… bad news I guess. Look I’m sorr-” The rest of his apology faded quite quickly when Zelo’s sharp ears caught the afterthought mumbled under the other boy’s breath as his face turned several shades of pink.

A few seconds later, Zelo paled, parting his lips looking absolutely horrified. The dopey smile on the boy’s face didn’t make him feel any better as he watched the walking terror dance into the middle of the room to the beat of some obnoxious rap song and really who calls someone who snapped at you and threw his phone on the ground with jeans caked in black grease cute because that was just stupid and wow he was kind of good.

Without even realizing it, Zelo had been following the boy’s movements (his height was a major advantage in times like this) as a semi-circle formed for the dancers in the middle. Mouth dropping in amazement, Zelo licked his lips, scooting a little closer to see what he (the other people) were doing.

The other two males in the middle was probably just as good (maybe even a little better) but like something tugged Zelo’s attention back to him no matter where he looked. In a bout of frustration, Zelo scrunched his nose up and crossed his arms, pouting like a child. He’s not even that special looking and I bet I can find someone who can dance better than him, what’s the big deal. 

When his eyes opened up again they met with boy's from before, he couldn't hide his smile as he realized that he had been watching. He slipped through the small crowd easily, making his way back to his side, still panting lightly from the previous efforts to show off. "Hey!" He exclaimed with a smile, bright even though he was at a sort of loss for any other further words. He just stood there and stared back at the boy for a good minute before he thought to say anything else.

"You were watching me.. right?" Ever the one to point out the obvious, he just kept up with his smiley antics, blinking at the look he was receiving in return. He wasn't quite sure now if the other was still annoyed or something else entirely, but he had decided he was nice to look at either way. "Mm.. so are you racing tonight too?" He finally asked a real question, although somewhat shy to start. This part was always a constant inner struggle for him, the part that urged him to be more than just a blank, boring slate. Somehow, he figured the other boy didn't have the same problem, he seemed like he was one to just flow freely with words. 

“We’re good to go,” Zelo muttered to himself.

Surveying the empty garage with cold indifference, the boy slid into the leather seat and with a flick of his wrist, revved the engine. The purr was enough to allow Zelo to crack a smile. Despite his irritation at being called in by the boss to fix some racer’s god damn car (as if he was some handy-man and not a world-renowned designer), Zelo was proud of his work. “Bastard better win the race,” he grumbled, sliding into gear and turning into the street.

The blaring music of old school hip hop bounced down the road like a greeting as he turned the red race car (tackily designed with cravings of the Crest dragon - as if headquarters wasn’t bad enough) into one of the open VIP garages. Stepping out as if he owed the place, Zelo snarled jarringly at the group of whores (to be accurate they were merely lingerie models, but it’s not like Zelo cared about the difference) who seemed to flock to the side of anyone who looked rich enough to sponsor them. 

The entire idea of street racing genuinely baffled Zelo. What was the point of tearing up the streets in a chunk of metal? One wrong turn would make you look like you’re a member of Splatters-R-Us. You’d get the same adrenaline rush jumping off an airplane. Then again, he did stupid shit for money too, like for instance, agreeing to fix his engine. 

Zelo twisted the keys in his hands and stuffed it into his back pocket before pulling out his phone to study the picture of the client. Face properly memorized, he scanned the area looking for someone that fit the bill. An hour of fruitless searching (and footing some god-awful entrance fee to the male with the trucker), Zelo finally punched in a phone number. He gave them two seconds to pick up before beginning to cuss the other end out. 

The blond paused long enough to breathe before the voices on the end could finally filter through as they mumbled something along the lines of sabotage and food poison and substitutions and Zelo was this close to screaming before, “Junhong, if you don’t I’ll rip up your chec—” 

Whatever the threat was, he didn’t bother to listen to the rest of it as Zelo chucked his phone at the ground. 

He was a designer.

Not a handy-man.

Not a street racer. 

What the fuck did they want from him? 

Before he made it to his destination a figure caught his eyes, someone who must have been fairly close to his own age given the looks of things. He was all legs and arms, and a smile caught his lips as he watched the boy curiously, though the other seemed far from happy. There was a certain clueless-ness about Jongup, who hadn't even realized he was staring rather intently at the other. It took him all of five minutes and a sharp snap from the boy to make the pieces click in his head. His eyes widened and he muttered an, "Oh.." before quickly apologizing and laughing like the idiot he felt he was. 

"My bad, I just sort of.. zoned out." Nothing unusual for him, but still causing him quite an embarrassment with the opposite looking so ticked off. "I don't know why you're mad, but I hope things get better." He offered in consolation, a soft shrug moving his shoulders beneath the leather jacket resting over them. "You look pretty cute all pissed off, though." He added as an afterthought, the comment muttered under his breathe as his eyes disappeared with a bright smile.