fallible.

he missed that. youngjae missed being pulled into his arms and close to his chest, missed being close to jun in general. he missed crying into his neck, because it was the most comforting way of crying, because jun always held him, no matter why he cried, no matter for how long. he also missed his scent, it always had been something jun-like, not describable but weirdly familiar. he missed his voice and also him in general. he even missed the way the other always got in trouble. he was probably the person youngjae always had been the most concerned about - because he was the one of his friends who got in trouble most often. he kept every memory, every photo they took, man, even the spray can with violet spray paint they used once and every little stone they found in one of the boxes underneath his bed, in his apartment.

he stops sobbing when jun looks at him, wipes away his tears with left right sleeve and places his fingers on his jaw. “where’d all the squish go? where’s my squish? the baby fat?” youngjae scoffs slightly, with a light grin on his face while he pinches his cheeks. he sniffs while his cheeks start to dry up completely and the grin doesn’t escape from his face when the other speaks.

even though the sad look returns to his eyes, the smile remains on his lips. jun is right, something has happened. but talking about it in public wouldn’t be the best idea, and his apartment is not that far away, they could easily walk to get there. he nods slowly and shakes his head immediately after. “yah, you’re not apologizing for not being there, you had no chance to be there.” he pinches his right cheek, again. there’s one thing he loves more than everything about his conversations with jun, they’re.. free. he doesn’t feel pressured to say the truth, the truth slips out by itself.

the second he got pulled into another hug his arms wrapped around his neck again and he nearly would’ve jumped to wrap his legs around his hips, too, but they were in public and some elder people were already sending them strange looks. “you idiot thought that I was dead? no way. of course I got time, why’d ya even ask?” he scoffed, again. “I would cancel every appointment for you. let me- let’s go to my apartment, alright? I’ve got to tell you some things that aren’t meant for public.”

it really is a miracle that jun has managed to live this long without heading to prison with all the shit he’s gotten into or getting himself into bigger shit than he anticipated. although, granted, one could say he’s only really been washing his hands in dirty water and not soaking them in it; nothing has stained and he’s not lost any fingers, but then again ...

he’s not really been all that innocent has he? he’s not soaking his hands in dirt, but he also already has blood on them.

really though, and he means really, the shit he got up to back then with his friends was petty shit, looking back. it was lowkey and typical things hooligans got into, thinking they were all cool and whatever every time they ‘stick it to the man’. and yeah, jun had been one of those shitheads back then, thinking he was all the shit -- and yeah, he did kind of end up dragging youngjae into some of the shit he got into, even though some days he’d tell youngjae to stay home ‘cause he didn’t want the guy getting into trouble by association.

did that ever work? nah, not really. the amount of times that jun would turn around and see youngjae being a god awful ninja and tailing him happened almost every single time.

and those memories made him happy ... he’d tried to brush it off all suave and shit, but when youngjae had gone missing, a chunk of light had gone missing from his life as well. he’d found himself subconsciously turning around at times, while heading out, expecting to see that same face from around a corner that was sheepish as fuck for being caught. jun had never gotten mad at him. it had felt lonelier without him.

“hey-- i never had any baby fat! this been the same, chisel as fuck face since day one,” jun pretends to huff, scrunching his face a little as his cheeks are assaulted, and he grabs youngjae’s hand to remove it from his delicate features -- if only to pull it down to hold onto, his hand squeezing his in a manner that contradicts his seemingly disgruntled tone. it says ‘i missed you, and i’m not gonna let you go again.’ 

he can feel the stares of some people around them, it doesn’t bother him nor stop him from his physical affection with youngjae. those people can get fucked, for all he cares. this ain’t none of their business. “yeah, ya disappearin’ act was too good for me, man. way too good ...” clearing his throat a little and to pull himself together a bit, he adjusts his jacket then slings an arm around youngjae’s shoulders, yanking him tight to his side as he says, “yeah, sounds real good. y’ lead the way.

@mixdodger

tw: mention of murder and literally burying a corpse

Baekhyun groaned. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and when he tried to wipe it away, dirt got stuck to his skin. His eyes gazed over the face of the male, his expression pained, his last breath taken a while ago and his eyes closed. If you don’t want the mpd to find your little ‘secrets’, you need to bury them not just ten but thirty foot deep. The worst thing you could do is wrap the body in plastic, it’s going to take the organisms years to corrode it. That was why the last thing he could see was the males face before the dirt finally covered it.

He gripped the shovel he was using to bury him with both hands. His fingers were as sweaty as his face and his back, the dirt stuck to him like he bathed in it and his black shoes were full with mud. Everyone could see what he was doing, but the hole wasn’t closed yet, it would be no problem to bury a second body. But nothing like that happened. It took him one hour to close the improvised “grave”, one hour until no one could see what happened next to the tree. Satisfied with his work and drenched in sweat, he started to make his way back to his car - before he heard something crack.

His eyes landed on the males face, he recognized him and groaned internally.

Jun.

This was the worst occasion he could’ve met him in, with blood splattered across his shirt and his jeans, dirt all over his clothes and body and a shovel in his hands. His appearance literally told the other that he committed a murder, even a child would’ve seen it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was deep as always, he sounded stressed and calm at the same time. His left hand immediately wandered to his belt, just to clutch his fingers around his gun, ready to do what was necessary. “Answer me, now.”

tw; mention of murder

why had Jun come this way today? who even fucking knows -- he doesn’t even fucking know. and yet, his cruise on his motorbike today had taken him to the forest, a really fucking odd place for anyone to associate jun with.

anyone who was acquainted with the young male would know that he’s not really that much a nature-y kind of guy. he’s not all too keen on spiritually; you ain’t going to catch him meditating or anything, or burning any incense.for the most part, nature to him was nice to look at, once in a while, usually with someone else. what kind of dumbass would go chasing a sunset by himself? 

a sappy as fuck dumbass, that’s who.

but, wandering forests had a bit of nostalgia for jun, which is why his stupid brain sometimes gravitated his body towards them. they were a place of odd solitude after his father got his ass offed, and although the drinking and nights out with mates were fun and a good distraction too, the sounds of the forest and climbing up a tree were another distraction. it was a place for him to be angry in secret, to yell as loud as he wanted and no one to hear him, to kick and punch out his frustrations.

‘course, he doesn’t ever admit this to anyone. the forest is stupid; he doesn’t know why he’s even come here.

minding his own business, hands in pockets as he strolled through the dirt and small fallen twigs, he wasn’t really paying attention to where he’s going. he’s just walking, kicking at random leaves and stones, when he heard the shuffling of kind of sounds like footsteps coming his way, or just some sort of animal. he hopes it ain’t no fucking bear coming to eat him, but would that be better or worse? instead, it was somone who looked kind of familiar, his face definitely recognisable even though he was covered in dirt, and some red stuff stained on his shirt, and with a shovel in his hand--

‘oh ... shit.’

“oh-- uh, hey, baekhyun-- uh, i ain’t doin’ nothin’, just, uh, walkin’, ‘n’ on my way--” he says, trying to sound casual and shit, and trying to keep his eyes from looking at all the damn evidence. his brain ain’t that dumb to not be able to piece two and two together; he knows murder when he sees it, but he really doesn’t want to get involved. that ain’t his shit, no way.

it seems like the day started great for youngjae - he woke up early, the reason why he was already out to do some groceries. he was neither tired nor wide awake, rather something in between, but he couldn’t be bothered less. the weather was good and he already helped an old lady with collecting the apples she dropped while crossing the street - in other words, he felt great.

he just ate a donut (his mom would’ve scolded him for eating a donut for breakfast, but never mind) and threw his cup of coffee in a dustbin, before he heard someone calling his name. he wasn’t prepared to see that face, not now, not anytime soon. of course, youngjae lost contact to all of his friends and disappeared without saying a word, it had been years and still, he remembers you.. 

his arms clenched around the other before he even knew, before he could say a word; he nearly clinched onto him. he doesn’t even give him a second to check if he’s really youngjae, he simply hugs him stronger and tries to hold back a few tears of joy and despair. “jun” he whispers, shocked, confused, scared. the other changed, his lineaments got sharper, he looked stronger, a little bit intimidating, but not for youngjae. youngjae still sees the teenager that ‘saved’ him from the hornet in his apartment, that didn’t laugh when he fell in love with another puppy or dog and the male who got into so much trouble that it hurt his heart if he didn’t knew that he was safe. 

he flinches slightly when a bit of coffee hits the fabric of his pullover, but he doesn’t care, the only thing he cares about is jun. “look- I- I can explain.” he has to. he’s not able to make up something that excuses the fact that he disappeared - also, he doesn’t want to lie to jun, but not there, not on the street where everyone is able to hear. “I’m sorry.” he murmurs before he buries his face in the crook of his neck and a few tears roll down his cheeks. his apology is followed by a sobbed “I missed you so much.” before he finally looks up again, his eyes and cheeks red, his bottom lip trembling.  

the other looks more mature than youngjae, he lost those chubby cheeks and everything, while youngjae kept a little bit puppy fat, especially on his hips and his cheeks. he looks a little bit like a puppy himself (one of the reasons besides his love for puppies why he was called ‘ganga-jae’ by jun often). “I’m alive, as you can see.” he says with a soft smile on his lips that reveals his dimples as he wipes the tears out of his eyes. 

“..and I couldn’t be more glad to meet you again.”

jun’s demands probably make him seem forward, aggressive, maybe even mad -- but he ain’t, not even in the slightest. he’s more relieved, surprised, elated that the friend he’d thought was lost for good to the dark streets of yeonggi was alive, and seemingly well. he kind of feels like the same youngjae -- jun didn’t really fucking look before almost bowling him over. he’s always been more of an emotional person than logical; he acts on his feelings and that’s what had always gotten him into all sorts of shit -- and still kind of does. but that would always worry youngjae, back then. it sounds funny to think like that -- ‘back then’ -- because he can compare it to something in the present now.

a dead youngjae didn’t allow that. there had been nothing in the present for jun’s memories with him, with the youngest’s disappearance basically without a trace, but even years of no contact didn’t change jun’s rare loyalty for him. it was reserved for a select few, and even death couldn’t fucking change that. he’d been so much for jun when he’d lost connection all other family, even the dumb moments that jun somehow managed to drag youngjae into because of his own hot temper or stupidity -- but the other had always been so fucking soft, he was like the inside of a boiled ramen egg. jun had never seen him ever be malicious, or mean, and it wasn’t a bad thing, no. if he’d been like jun, they’d both really be fucking dead right now, and for good, not just disappearing for years. his gentler temperament was always a good counter for jun’s impulsivity -- that’s probably one of the reasons why jun didn’t end up killed, years back when he’d mainly been living on his own..

the older feels a wetness at his neck, and he almost wants to scoff; it’s too familiar a feeling, too familiar an occurence that is like deja vu. it’s not youngjae if he doesn’t cry, much less crying into jun, but he’d found a soft spot in his damn heart, made a home in it ages ago and he was bringing it out again. anyone else, he’d probably have pushed away, but not youngjae. he was like a younger brother, someone he felt a strong need to protect.

staring down at youngjae, yeah, his senses were right and he is crying, but that’s the nearly exact same face that’s unmistakable. he looks much better smiling ‘cause it lights up a fucking room, but he’s seen this face many times too. aah, the damn fucker hasn’t changed one bit. looks a bit older, and something in his eyes is slightly different, but ain’t much changed.

@mixdodger​ — tw / intentional drugging.

The small capsule dissolves like a puff of magic as it becomes one with the bitter liquid. Except it’s not magic, it’s pure science. He sighs visibly as he turns towards the restaurant section of the establishment and wonders why he isn’t just eating a high class dinner on this fine evening like a normal person? Because the company isn’t doing it for him; they’re all rival gang members, for all he knows, and he doesn’t want to be among that particular audience. Hyungwon hears someone cough over his shoulder and watches as the person relieves themselves of their lunch a mere ten feet away from him. It’s a struggle not to smile at the prospect of the foreseeable suffering; a gift just for him. At least the drug is working. 

It’s a little more crowded tonight than the previous week, he notices, what with the fair amount of young bodies by the bar and on the floor, and he really wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the marvelous opportunity it gives him. Hyungwon gets to blend in with everybody else, just like he wants, and be invisible again; provided that his height isn’t a cause for concern. Sometimes he thinks that he’s in the wrong profession, because people look at doctors like they’re something special when all they’ve done is fight off dying in medical school to not die in residency while subsequently trying to save people in the aftermath of their stupid mistakes. But it’s safe, and secure, and he’s viewed as a harmless individual who wouldn’t dare harm another living being; except he was doing just that, and he adored it.

Much to the dismay of his records, he doesn’t always keep track of the amount of people he causes suffrage to. Sometimes, he doesn’t stick around long enough to watch the inevitable asphyxiation, seizure, or otherwise. Although Hyungwon would absolutely love to, the most important thing is that he doesn’t get caught doing it. It’s all for fun, and it’s all for science. After all, creating the most undetectable drug on the planet isn’t going to happen overnight.

The black-haired male files through the ever growing slew of alcohol and dumb decisions to get to the bar. The bartender looks preoccupied on the other side of the bar, so he waves him over to order a drink he doesn’t quite know to get yet. “Excuse me!”

working at a restaurant/bar ain’t the most glamourous of jobs -- the crow’s nest is professional, yeah, and classified as a ‘family restaurant’, but come a certain time it ain’t really that family friendly. the bar becomes more popular, as does the dining section, but it’s a different kind of crowd and it’s a whole ‘nother set of orders. it ain’t parents with kids; it’s people who have backgrounds that have both been in the fucking sewers and prob through other shit that he’d take all night to list -- he wouldn’t put it past some of them if they’ve also eaten shit too, and in the very literal sense. he ain’t gonna ever ask if it was on purpose or not, though -- he ain’t want those images in his fucking head next he sees ‘em come in and as he’s serving ‘em their weekly choice of liquid poison. really, he’s seen his fair number of shitshows and ain’t want to willingly have another shoved into his memories.

with all of that as background then, it ain’t unusual for some weird things to go down at least once a night, when he’s working. yeah, people drink way too much and don’t fucking know their limits, and then puke everywhere and it’s a fucking gross-as pain to clean up. people also fall asleep, knock out, cause fights and shit -- all sorts. the fights are less tolerated; the big ol’ boss (he ain’t really big, height-wise or weight-wise, but he’s the manager) doesn’t really stand for that kind of rubble, and even less when it endangers the staff.

he’s seen jihoon step in more than once in his time, and whew does he act without mercy. the smile he can have in his face ain’t really fooling him; jun knows there’s some sort of evil inside there that takes no shit.

but lately, the weird of kind shit that’s been happening ain’t seem right, and for some reason it’s only been to the customers at the bar. yeah, sure, people can choke every now and again because they don’t fucking know how to swallow like any other decent human being, but the girl he saw have a seizure wasn’t all that old. don’t only old people have that shit happen to them, ‘cause their brains stop working or something? he doesn’t know the specifics, but it just seemed a bit weird. still, it didn’t stop him from still doing his job. he’s one of the two bartenders on tonight, and is over on the other side finishing up a refill of ice cubes for the bucket, when he hears a patron calling him over. making sure to fix a small smile onto his face, he straightens and heads over, unassuming of anything about the man he’s about to serve.

@mixdodger

click. the door locked. and with that, the end of one chapter brought the start of the next one, as he could finally have a night off without having to wake up early the next day. and he took full advantage of this, dongmin was no idiot. sometimes with donghae being busy in the evening allowed him perhaps too much freedom to go off to do other things. which- well. dongmin didn’t stray too far, and often did what most parents and people his age found rather homebody-like. it wasn’t his fault he liked staying at home and being in the comforts of his television, computer, technology galore. but sometimes an evening to let loose was necessary too. especially considering the client that had barked up a fight with him after jun had left earlier today; dongmin often did not let customers or other people’s commentary bother him but today, the lady had pushed him to his limits on ‘the customer is always right’ to the brink. 

“dooon’t even-” when jun looked like he was about to say something, dongmin cutting him off immediately with a wave of his hand, “i know, i look miserable. let’s just say, some days i wish i didn’t work in customer service.” yes he certainly got his degree, but he wasn’t prepared to transition out of this life quite yet.

“alright, so you got your freebies earlier today.” dongmin nudged jun playfully in the elbow, considering all the things. the conversation honestly would sound much sketchier out of context. and this wasn’t bribery- he’d give his friends free food. all the time. sometimes. maybe with a bit of pressure. okay, bargaining tactics. they all do it. “what’s in it for me? you didn’t forget already, did you?” 

days off were a nice little extra joy in his life sometimes, and most times jun would go about doing things to prevent himself being bored -- which, unfortunately, happened far too fucking often. he wasn’t no goldfish or nothing, but he had to be kept busy, ‘else he’d find his own version of ‘fun’, and that wasn’t always safe, or legal in the, uhh ... traditional sense. he never really harmed people that much with his activities -- maybe some minor inconveniences every now and again -- but they all lived, yeah? and come a week later, they’d probably not even remember it in the mix of everything else.

jun was typically a creature of habit; he had his favourite spots, some from nostalgia, some just ‘cause he liked it there. so even if there might be other bakeries around -- ones that were closer and still in the city centre -- wild-flours was one of those good spots that he would still make the trip out to mimyo for. yeah, there weren’t much else in the dead-as-fuck village that reminded him far too much of those ‘so pleasant the residents have gotta be part of a murderous cult’ villages, but he’d risk it for a taste of the bakery’s goods. that was how much he liked their stuff (and, maybe it was because kyungri used to buy them treats from there, when they could afford it as kids).

so, while his ‘bargaining’ had been successful earlier, and he’s exited happily with a fluffy bun of bread in his hand, it had come at the cost of a promise to take dongmin out later that night, to run some riots in town.

not actual riots, ‘cause the kid was still young and kind of too nice to get into all of that stuff, but y’know, jun just had to show him how to have a good time ‘round the city.

and, true to his end of the promise, he’d turned back up at the bakery just as dongmin was locking up, his mouth opening to say something when he caught sight of the look on the kid’s face -- he looked like shit -- but he got cut off before he could. in place of a too-honest comment, a grin was taken up on his lips instead, arms crossing over his chest as he waited.

“yo, ‘course i ain’t forget. i got a memory like an elephant, ya know?” he replied, jabbing at his own temple a few times to emphasise his point. “and i ain’t really break promises much, trust me.” his words are contradictory, but he brushes past it. “hope ya ain’t got no early curfew tonight.

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“Mm, notta fat ass! Ooof s-shorty—shorty!” Kaisei didn’t recognize his own too loud voice, as his legs just sorta melted beneath him in the sand. Oh sand! Soft sandy sand. Pretty soft sand. Maybe he should just lay here. Yes that was an excellent idea. He rolled on his side and waited for the Earth to stop spinning. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d truthfully been anything close to “this” drunk. Sure he had been drinking since he was fourteen, frankly it was a necessary evil in some respects, but even in those blurry times he had quickly taught himself control early on. You couldn’t fight and break Hydrus soldier jaws properly if you couldn’t even stand up, besides he frankly didn’t like the headaches, dehydration, and memory lapses too much alcohol brought. 

If he punched you he damn well wanted to remember he had… 

Tonight was different. Tonight he wasn’t Katana pretending to be wasted in enemy territory in order to lure in bait, this time he really was wasted. Like pink elephants, and fluffy sand dreams wasted. Jun was a dare he say it? Maybe a new “friend”? The guy was definitely someone that he could actually be his own age of nineteen with sans his usual weary worldly caution. Jun was no one, not Hydrus, not Columba, not criminal—not any anything (he had him checked out), and Kaisei liked that. He liked it a lot. Jun was just a regular guy (something Kaisei knew very little of), a bartender. He probably should stay away from the guy for both their own good, but it was hard not to like some one who just seemed to enjoy life as much as Jun did. 

Besides—bartender… .so yea free drinks was a nice friendly perk.

Drinking with any bartender was never so much fun as it was with a bartender like Jun, who really knew his way around some quality brain cell dissolving cocktails. Like a mad scientist, the dude had mixed up wild things for them in weird colors smelling of sharp fruit tang and creamy sweets. Half of which Kaisei was pretty sure probably qualified as literal poison in some countries, and all of which they’d both drank in rapid one-upmanship succession. Drinking one shot after another on childish dares until everything had become a flashy glitter ball of colors and sounds. Someone had suggested the beach he thinks it might of been him, and then they both had stumbled their way to the shore.

“Wah—wait. How ya’ gonna swim? No suit!” Had he missed the part where Jun (who was maybe suddenly a twin now, he wasn’t quite sure), had brought with him some swim trunks? More importantly where are his swim trunks? Maybe he could borrow some from Jun’s new twin and hope they didn’t cut off the circulation in his groin.

tw ; profanity

he hears calls behind him, words making fun of his height, and in his intoxication he finds himself offended, pausing to turn around and stumble through the lava-like sand in hideji’s direction, pointing (not-all-that) threatening finger in the equally drunk younger man’s direction.

“wha’ the fuck ya say, fat ass?” he slurs, frowning and tripping, hands just quick enough still to stop him from landing face-first; thank god, because sand ain’t tasty at all. he knows, because it’s just ground up rocks and shit, and it’s gritty and ain’t chewable. anything that’s irritating up the ass definitely ain’t good in the mouth.

getting drunk this bad wasn’t uncommon for jun, and he was always on the hunt for new buddies to spend a good time with. his learned expertise with alcohols did mean he knew some deadly stuff that could waste a cow -- not that he often wasted his bar patrons this bad. his job was a different situation. off-shift, though, meant he could get as pissed as he wanted, so long as he turned up to work when he needed to still, all professional and such.

not often he also found someone who could get just as wasted as he could without tapping out, and also go get wild with him.

“why ‘on’t ya come ‘ere ‘n’ say that!?” he starts to crawl, but then the sound of waves reaches his ears again, and he lifts himself up halfway to look behind him. oh, yeah, the beach. a swim. that’s what he really wanted. the whole idea of cool, refreshing waves all over his body re-entered his mind and, fuck, he really needed to be in there, right then, right now, and his clothes were wholly in the way.

why the fuck were they a thing, anyway? just a whole bunch of nonsence and a nuisance. you had to pull ‘em down to pee, and to change ‘em all the time, wash ‘em, and they’d get caught on shit all the time and then tear a fucking hole, and then you’d have to buy new ones -- it was like taking care of a fucking baby. except ... you wore ‘em--

a swim. right. clothes, gotta come off.

“the fuck i’d needa suit, maaan?” jun hollers over at wherever hideji has fallen; he thinks he can kind of see his shape, but he really just looks like a dark shadow and is really blending into the shadows of the sand dunes. he’s not being eaten up by the sand, is he? anyway, he’s too busy shucking off his annoying as fuck shirt, followed by his pants. “ain’t need no-- no fuckin’ suit-- my skin’s all i need! get ‘n ya skin, hideji!”