#&p

december 17th

he hasn’t been able to breathe for three days. he is so heavy with the pending reality of a life without spencer, so crushed beneath the weight of all of the regrets, all of the things he didn’t do with him, didn’t say to him-- did say to him that he shouldn’t have. he can’t stop thinking about the days he would stay, and watch spencer wake up and smile at him, still sleepy. he can’t stop thinking of a life without that, where spencer never wakes up and jihoon can never sit and watch him breathe.

he can for now, though. stable, the doctors said, surgery finished, the faithful rise and fall of spencer’s chest even while he’s full of tubes. jihoon is painfully aware of the fact that this could change at any moment. the steady sound of ticking vitals could turn desperate, nurses could rush in and wheel him away the same way they wheeled him into the ambulance, whisked away, leaving jihoon behind in excruciating uncertainty. jihoon thought loving spencer was life or death before. strength and weakness, control and chaos, safety or danger, but this is a new tightrope jihoon, deep down, always knew they would walk, but was still never prepared for. even know, he can’t quite forgive himself for not being ready for the inevitable pending death of myeongcho to hurtle toward them at full speed. 

he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for a life without spencer, and it’s a fact that terrifies him-- one he tried to guard himself against, yet he regrets that now. he regrets loving him enough to so desperately depend on his survival, yet regrets not loving him harder, wholeheartedly, from the very beginning. 

he doesn’t remember the last time he properly slept, only remembers plowing on through life, working through preemptive grief and fear, filling in the gaps spencer left in the crow’s nest, at the hospital anytime he wasn’t, perfecting the art of sleeping in hospital room chairs and on waiting room sofas, always waiting, waiting for the news, wanting to be the first to know, because spencer’s life or death will be his responsibility. (because he loves him.)

stable. it’s all that really matters now, that comforting beep of his vital signs, and it’s what he focuses on to drive out the fear that they will be stuck like this forever: some kind of coma, jihoon by a hospital bed, jihoon sitting with spencer’s parents, never free of the guilt that he could not protect their son.

he scoots his chair across the floor, closer, and leans forward, gingerly resting his head on spencer, ear against his chest. his heartbeat is better. jihoon’s eyes flutter closed, and he listens to the way it still pounds, a reminder that spencer is still here-- still alive, still fighting, as he knows spencer will. like this, jihoon feels stable too.

@rkbyrin​

he’s upset. there really isn’t much to it; jaehyun’s deflated and as much as he’s trying to look at this as positively as possible, he can’t. for some reason he’s embarrassed as well and angry and confused –– he’s feeling too many things. and he doesn’t like it. not one bit.

the results come a little expected, or maybe –– not really. because a part of jaehyun had hoped that he’d get the modelling offer; had seen it as some sort of alternative path for him to take that didn’t have him forcing paper work down his throat for the rest of his life. 

so he does what he’s best at (and it isn’t modelling, clearly) and pulls out a cigarette from his box. he’s not in plain sight, a little further away from the crowd behind him, before he lights the cigarette up and begins to puff. he’s somewhat sure that yerin probably wouldn’t be here until a while anyway (and it’s not like this little act of his is a secret from her).

the person you love nearly dying really puts life in perspective. since spencer’s time in the hospital, jihoon couldn’t help but re-evaluate his life, and think of how pointless all of his resentment and priorities were. instead of holding a grudge against bomin for leaving, he messaged him, because no one was guaranteed survival, and if something happened to him, he would never be able to forgive himself. life is too fragile, especially in a place like myeongcho, to fight against the people important to you, and to intentionally hurt them, or to manipulate.

it’s all so ingrained in jihoon, and it’ll take more than a month to grow into a version of himself he’ll be able to accept. he knows instinctively he’ll fall into the same pattern of deception and selfishness, but for the first time, he’s trying to be better. he’s trying to be a better son, and a better brother, and as spencer recovers, some of the joy he lacked for months fills him again. he can flash his old smiles again and work his cute looks for extra tips and stellar customer service skills, but it doesn’t feel quite so faked anymore, and he steals a little less than he would’ve once before.

he still isn’t sure whether he wants to drop out of school or not, but the year is almost over, so he’ll at least finish it and decide over the break. he’s been so busy making sure spencer is safe and working overtime at the crow’s nest to make up for his absence that classwork has fallen to the bottom of his list of things to do, but he’ll make it through. he made it to class today, and when his final one of the day ends, he gets up to leave. a familiar figure gives him pause, though.

he and seungmin have a history: namely, family history, warring restaurants once upon a time, parents with a friendly rivalry and children...less so, immaturity leaving to resentment that festered even as they aged. they share this class together, and avoid each other by all means necessary, usually ignoring one another’s existence, jihoon stealing seungmin’s pens as revenge when he gets the chance, just to inflict a little damage. his conscience pulls at him now, and he still isn’t humble enough to apologize, but he fishes one of the stolen pens out of his school bag and approaches seungmin.

“hey. is this yours?” he asks, and extends it toward him as a peace offering. there’s so much more he could say, but it all stops in his throat. he opens his mouth so speak, then closes it again, and in the end, says, “i hope you’ve been well.”

jihoon knows his feelings. unfortunately, he knows, no matter how easily he can choke them back, and how easily he can pretend otherwise. he doesn’t question how long they’ve been there-- only how to get rid of them, and how they can exist. he doesn’t have the heart for this; he never had much of one at all, string of relationships hand in hand with manipulation, looking into eyes full of tears remorselessly, ruthlessly. hearts meant nothing to him, theirs or his own, broken and repressed, all in the pursuit of fun and power. spencer brought him both. they were on track for the usual: jihoon’s self-indulgence, using him until he sucked him dry, casting aside when he grew bored or something better came along-- a constantly looming inevitability that jihoon regarded guiltlessly. he told spencer such. he got his warning.

jihoon knows his feelings, but he is an expert in pretending. maybe he can blame bomin in the end, for upending his world and tearing through all of jihoon’s pretense in his departure. he can blame that hole in his guarded and ignored heart, so supposedly immune to breakage, and the natural inclination to fill it. jihoon leaves nothing in his life empty, and in the end, it was just a different way to use spencer. cling to him, substitute him for bomin, mend anything missing. it meant nothing.

but spencer is all sunshine, that strange, fascinating combination of harmless and thrilling, and he never brought the boredom jihoon so anticipated. he brought adventure and a new kind of danger-- challenged jihoon’s control, but always bent, some unfathomable combination of unpredictable and safe all at once. they were like walking a tightrope, always toeing some line, spencer keeping him there in his unnatural, impervious realm of balance and brilliance. spencer is always there, lurking in jihoon’s thoughts, coloring his world of black and white in pastels slowly saturating. spencer is something so warm and loved, and jihoon feels it all in his chest.

he blamed bomin for the shedding of his shell-- all of his peeled back skin and exposed nerves, even his heart uncovered in all of his weakness, but he realized the real problem is spencer. spencer made him soft and weak and jihoon hated it, and he knows: he loves spencer, and he can’t stand it.

so he went to taehyung to forget-- a reliable formula. jihoon plus taehyung equals disaster-- strategized heartbreak, and that was exactly what jihoon was in the market for. yet even in that, he failed, so unlike himself, so sickeningly debilitated and...devoted, clarifying the depth of trouble jihoon was in, and he needed to bail himself out quickly. he needs to get out, because jihoon still can’t do love.

all along, he’s been fighting the war between protecting spencer and destroying him anyway, and now, the choice is so easy. in the end, maybe he’s still just giving into an old, unsatisfied desire.

when he steps into spencer’s apartment, it’s after a day of not seeing each other, work schedules intentionally not overlapping as much as they once did. he takes his shoes off at the door, just like he has countless times before, and he knows exactly what to do (but it aches. he feels it in his chest.)

spencer greets him at the door, and jihoon kisses him, so carelessly, so easily, a routine he must convince himself he tired of after six months. “hey, spencer,” he says when he pulls away, only to lean in to kiss him again, lightly, so different than the first time. after, he lets his eyes trail over his face-- familiar lips, the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, freckles speckling his cheeks. (how does he convince himself he could ever tire of that?)

when jihoon’s eyes meet spencer’s, his gaze is probing. “what does this mean to you? what we’re doing?” he asked him once before, not long before the beginning of their freefall-- jihoon offering spencer that chance to pull the cord on his parachute. spencer refused, and he’ll suffer for it now.

it plays in the back of his head: if i was being selfish, i could do this forever. it turns out he’s still selfish; he just can’t do it at all.

jihoon doesn’t know who he is these days. maybe he’s never known, and bomin’s departure was like opening the curtains to reveal all of the truths he kept covered. it’s like he’s the wizard in the wizard of oz, pulling the strings, putting on a show, only to be proven he isn’t so impressive after all. he is not so unshakable-- not so close to invincible.

he can still pull off magic tricks, though, and his face still looks as innocent and unlikely to deceive. he still has quick fingers, and his constant itch to steal is still in tact, too. in fact, it might be stronger than ever-- this urge to keep things after sudden turbulence in a life where he wants nothing more than he wants to control. he has no real power anymore, and that’s why he feels so lost.

still, he’s more subdued now than he once was, less bright, more genuine, unfortunately, keeping up the proper performance persona too exhausting. he still succeeds in gathering a small amount of loot-- with yeji’s help, of course.

they determined that the mall’s monster mash was a prime location for a new operation. well, it’s not really new. jihoon and yeji have been associates for a while now, co-workers in scamming and deception, and collecting whatever they can get their hands on from their victims. cell phones, wallets, watches, random trinkets (in jihoon’s case, borderline pack rat that he is.) 

jihoon does his tricks today in a magician costume to really sell it-- tries to become part of the mall’s attractions for the day to increase his credibility. something about it must work; they make a good return, jihoon’s pockets quite heavy, but he still searches for anymore targets. “should we call it a day?” he asks yeji, but he’s having fun, and he’s always been greedy.

the things jihoon does for his mother.

taking jisu to the mall to go around the shops and get candy or whatever is one of the last things jihoon wants to do, but their mother insisted on them bonding. more than that, she insisted on jisu not going to any event by himself. she’s been a little paranoid and overprotective since the execution, which jihoon can’t blame her for; he can’t imagine how much worse it would be if she actually knew what happened that day.

she doesn’t, however, jisu’s near death experience and the severity of jihoon’s rescue mission a secret between brothers now. that’s done more to bond them than any obligatory time prowling myeongcho mall will, but jihoon doesn’t have it in him to argue so much against his mother’s wishes anymore, and more than that, jihoon has a plan.

said plan: spend an acceptable amount of time with jisu, then bail on him to go hang out and scam people with yeji. he’s sure his little brother won’t want to spend much time with him, either, and he’s 17 years old, which is plenty old enough to be left unattended.

they’re on the way to the mall’s cafe after jihoon promised to buy him something in exchange for jisu shutting up and not arguing with him for five minutes. they’re about to step into line when jisu freezes, naturally big eyes getting a little wider, like a deer caught in headlights, and jihoon stops beside him. 

“hey, what’s up with you?” he asks, not as accusatory as it once might’ve been.