#c:writes

junghwan stares down at the cold stone, a hoodie on with the hood up to protect him from the cold drafts. he stares until the words blend into each other and he has to blink.

"sunwoo," he tests, the words forcing his lips to curve together in a long o sound, his tongue tasting a foreign combination of vowels and consonants that didn't feel too alien a few months earlier. "sunwoo... it's been a while."

he seats himself a few inches away on the grass, and pays no attention to the petals of the flowers fluttering violently in the breeze. his eyes are dry but his head throbs, and angry, angry thoughts come. junghwan inhales through his nose and presses the palm of a hand into his eyes to stop. "you always had some sort of complex that i could never understand."

come back, he wants to say. i don't know what to do. but sunwoo can't come back. he gently pries junghwan's clingy hands away from his wrist, a familiar action coupled with that warm smile of his that only he could manage. i can't come back, he reminds him nonchalantly, as if the two are conversing about the day's weather.

i can't come back; it's too late for me now.

the flowers are violently tossed down onto the stone, and junghwan yells as his hand comes down to slap granite. "you're so stupid!" he shouts, enraged. "you're so- so stupid! you have some nerve running into a flaming building to try and fulfill your superhero scenario!"

with every sentence he utters, he whacks the engraved stone, as if it's the cause of all his misery. it's not until he stops to take a shaky breath that he realizes his hand painfully stings and there are tears streaming down his cheeks.

"did you even think about your parents over a stranger?" junghwan questions, lower lip trembling. "and your sister? she won't have anyone to turn to anymore. and what about me? what about me, you- big idiot- "

what about you, sunwoo teases, but the words come out as spiteful and venomous and junghwan feels the peg in his heart sink a few inches.

he shies away and curls into himself, wiping away his tears crudely with the sleeves of his hoodie. "you... this is all your fault! this is- it's all your fault- "

sunwoo looks at him with pity in his eyes. no, junghwan, he refutes, this is your fault.

and junghwan remembers that he was the one who begged sunwoo to come to the convention with him, who dragged him there against his will and essentially chained his fate to the burning hall, where he spent his last ragged breaths trying to inhale oxygen into his smoke-filled lungs and a falling beam finally put him out of his wretched misery. where the unconscious young woman was found by firefighters inside, but sunwoo wasn't, and sunwoo, sunwoo, sunwoo, no matter how much he tried to stand out in everyday life, couldn't keep enough of his body intact for the firefighters to find anything.

"it’s too hot,” sunwoo complains as he fans himself with his textbook, first few buttons popped open and collar propped up to keep the sweat from soaking it in the summer heat. he turns away from the rest of his classmates, who have followed his stead and shed their blazers, and stares out the window in contemplative silence.

“get something to drink to cool down,” one of his buddies offer, and sunwoo shakes his head.

“nah, too much work.”

there’s a brief silence before he speaks up again. “what should i get then?”

“raspberry tea?” another of his friends brings up, and the three of them in unison scrunch up their noses at the thought of the artificially sweetened drink. “get that charge c.c. drink or whatever that just came in then.”

sunwoo holds out his hand. “lend me money.”

“what? do you think we got money for you to leech off of us?”

“you have your own allowance, damn.”

in the end, he’s out in the hallway with his own crumpled wad of bills in hand, and muses over the drinks presented in the glass display. pursing his lips, the young man hovers his finger over the charge c.c.’s button, and is ready to press when someone yells a “heads up!”

before he realizes, sunwoo is knocked down flat on his ass and head throbbing, in a sudden daze. he hears footsteps and a strong arm hoists him up to his feet, and suddenly he’s face to face with tanned ridges.

“ah- “ the young man who helps him exclaims, and buttons his shirt back up to cover a toned stomach that could possibly be as good as his, maybe even better. sunwoo’s still in a daze. “sorry about that; it’s way too hot here. hey, are you okay? my friend tried tossing me the can he got from the vending machines, but he tossed too far and it hit you.”

the other looks at sunwoo with concerned eyes. the latter’s eyes dart down again to read a nametag that says “seunghyun.” he garbles out nonsense and deduces that he has been affected from the blow of aluminum on face.

when he feels sweat start to trickle down his temple and something else from his nose, seunghyun’s eyes widen. “shit, are you bleeding?!” he yelps, and sunwoo puts a hand up to his nose to see that, ah, yes, he is bleeding.

“jongin!” someone shrieks over the intercom base on the wall, and jongin curses, his hands slick with oil. he turns his head to stare at the distance between the machine he’s working on and the talk button, musters all the strength that he can in his legs, and slides a little on the floor to reach the button with his foot.

his sneaker barely taps it, and when it does, jongin is trapped in limbo between his work and the wall. “yeah?” he strains, his calves burning from hoisting himself up already. “who is it?”

the person huffs. “um, doofus, who else would it be?”

jongin breathes out evenly through his nose, mentally counting to ten. “sehun,” he greets with a huff, “i’m kinda busy right now.”

“what, working on some robot or whatever that you won’t even show me?” his best friend snickers, and jongin’s foot trembles before it slips off of the button, and he slumps onto the floor with a miserable moan. “jongin, hello?”

“it’s a robot, and it’s not done yet,” he answers begrudgingly, knowing that the other can’t hear him.

sehun hums knowingly. “i bet you’re like, ‘oh, it’s not done so i can’t show it to you!’” he mimics jongin using a falsetto voice, and cackles as if he can see his best friend fuming and tossing a ragcloth at the monitor. “anyway, auntie says that dinner’s ready, so you better hurry up.”

wiping his fingers down from the oil, jongin rolls his eyes and stands to turn back to the hunk of metal in front of him, intent on finishing his work.

“... and, auntie says if you don’t come eat, i get to take your moped for a spin for the next week!” sehun declares gleefully, a devilish undertone in his voice.