#kp.creators

If the night air was cold, it didn’t dare bother Hongjoong as he thundered down the long sidewalk in the beach town to which he resided. An edgy leather jacket lay on his shoulders while silver chains decorated the front of the rough fabric. His dark hair was partially gelled and laid parallel with his forehead, the rest of it combed back behind his right ear. He was a sight to behold. Hongjoong usually entertained the flirty comments to his appearance, but tonight he had chosen not to reciprocate appreciative glances or small smiles. Hongjoong, the leader of the biker gang in the town, threw open the doors to the beach town’s local Harley Davidson store and was met with three pairs of awaiting eyes.

“There you are,” San said in all of his smoldering glory. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Tonight, his hair was different - instead of a middle part that tickled his eyelashes, he had slicked his hair back. It made him look rougher, somehow, even if gel in hair signified class and prestige in a person.

Jongho was on the ground, polishing a red motorcycle - his motorcycle. He turned his head when Hongjoong arrived and grinned. “It really is about time,” he said. “I was afraid my bike would rust before you got here.” Hongjoong glared at him and the younger boy laughed. The happiness around his eyes and in his smile made him look younger, and if Hongjoong ignored his bold and dark undercut and the ubiquitous biker leather jacket on his shoulders, he could have passed for a neutral person in town.

Seonghwa said nothing, but his shoulders relaxed when he saw Hongjoong enter the shop. Like the others, he sported a leather jacket and had dark hair that lay wavy on his forehead, but he carried a bit of elegance that the other two did not possess. Hongjoong had always attributed this to his age, as he was the oldest out of the four of them. And though Hongjoong was the leader, he was younger, so Seonghwa had an inherent and special privilege as being the oldest, and in his words, the wisest.

Hongjoong had recruited all of them because he had a troublesome itch that he needed to scratch, and it was only in conjunction with the other three that he would be able to do so. The night was cold, but the next day was supposed to be the warmest day in weeks. The local surfers had taken note of this, and they had planned a surf competition on the blue waves of the beach town.

And Hongjoong despised them. It was in their nature - bikers despised surfers, surfers despised bikers. The violent rivalry had plagued the beach town for years with no signs of settling down, and Hongjoong would only aggravate it tonight. The four of them were going to steal the surfers’ surfboards and ruin the surfers’ chances of a friendly and competitive surf the next day. Perhaps it was the hatred that allowed him to think of such a dastardly idea, and the other three thrived on such a plan. They were delighted to aid him.

“I’m here,” Hongjoong agreed, “and we have no time to waste,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Unless you want to be in bed later than usual.”

Jongho stood up from his bike with a cheeky grin that wiped any confidence in Hongjoong that said this heist would be a night free of comedy. “If you say so. I’ve got someone waiting for me in the sheets.”

“Like hell you do,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes. San snickered.

“You’d be surprised,” Jongho drawled, running a hand through his hair with twinkling eyes. There was arrogance practically melting off of him.

“Uh-huh,” Hongjoong said. “Seonghwa,” he said, changing the conversation. “Were you able to get a car?”

The bikers, as their name suggested, rode solely on motorcycles around town. So during early planning, it had dawned on Hongjoong that they would have nowhere to put the surfboards once they had snatched them from the shore. None of them owned a car, so Hongjoong had requested Seonghwa to get one. He had no doubt that Seonghwa had obtained a car like he had asked, but he expected him to say he had hotwired a car with Jongho to get it.

Seonghwa nodded. “Yep. From Angelina,” he said, and Hongjoong raised his eyebrows. Angelina was Seonghwa’s new girlfriend, and he never would have guessed that she would be so willing to help them out even when they hadn’t been dating very long.

“Did you lie?” San asked, and Seonghwa shook his head again, strands of dark hair falling onto his face.

“No, actually. She’s all for the idea,” he clarified, moving the strands of hair back into place. The small smile that had tickled his face when Angelina had first been mentioned turned into a more sinister smile. “She wishes us luck.”

“Wonderful,” Hongjoong said genuinely. “Good to hear.” He glanced at the cars parked outside the shop and only saw one present. His heart dropped.

“Seonghwa,” he said, looking the car up and down as it gleamed in the moonlight. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s just a color,” Seonghwa said. “It’s a good car.”

“It’s pink.”

“Surfboard knapping in a pink buggy!” San laughed with glee.

“Not exactly the most inconspicuous,” Hongjoong muttered. He imagined them on their motorcycles surrounding the pink car while they rode through the night. The vision was anything but comforting.

“We could always walk. Have Jongho carry all of the surfboards,” Seonghwa said with a taste of pepper in his voice.

Jongho began taking off his jacket to flex his arms, but San hit his arm and shook his head.

Seonghwa adjusted his stance so he was more comfortable, but also bolder, against the wall. “It’s the best I could do, and certainly better than nothing.”

“No, you’re right,” Hongjoong sighed. He glanced at the pink buggy again with distaste. “It’s all just a construct, isn’t it?”

“And I’ll even drive it,” Seonghwa said, adjusting his jacket. “You three can save your pride, ride your motorcycles, and be the hotshots.”

That was enough for the three of them to relax. “And I think Angelina would feel the best if you drove it since you’re her boyfriend,” San added, now confidently knowing his ride would be his motorcycle.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Seonghwa sighed, then looked at Hongjoong for guidance.

“I take that we’re ready to go, then,” Hongjoong said, taking Seonghwa’s notion with stride. “After all, Jongho has a bedtime.”

“I’m having-” he started, but the others had already begun to head out the door, paying no attention to him. With a frustrated sigh, he hurried after them.

Since Jongho was working on his bike in the shop, he took another bike that he had the keys for. But the others had their own bikes - Hongjoong’s a sleek silver and San’s a jet black. Seonghwa threw himself into Angelina’s pink car. Hongjoong could swear the car squeaked like a squeaky toy in response to his weight.

“To the beach,” Hongjoong said, then furrowed his brows as he started up the motorcycle with a roar. “Now that’s not something I’d normally say.”

As leader, Hongjoong led the rest of them through town. The beach town was absolutely gorgeous at night, and Hongjoong enjoyed driving around at this time even if he wasn’t going anywhere in particular. There was something magical in the air that appeared only when the moon was out in the sky, and Hongjoong feasted on it. Being a biker helped with this feeling - he felt as if he commanded the road while he rode on his marvelous steel vehicle. No one else safe for partiers were out and about. As the bikers drove by, they were noticed by them. Some people hurried inside bars upon seeing them. Others averted their gaze as if they would be forgotten about if they didn’t meet the bikers’ eyes again. Hongjoong relished in the thought that the townspeople feared them. It allowed a sort of leeway to execute nights like these without being reported or ratted out.

At last, the beach loomed in the distance. Hongjoong hated to admit that it was a beautiful sight. Part of the turf war with surfers meant that certain parts of the town were surfers only, and others were bikers only. The entire beach was one of those areas to which only surfers could be. Because of that, Hongjoong, San, and Jongho all parked ways away from the beach so that their bikes didn’t attract any unwanted attention. They found spaces in the back of the large parking lot of a grocery store. Seonghwa, much to his delight, was able to get as close to the boardwalk as he could via a dirt path. And because of his pink car, no one would suspect the biker affiliation.

“Maybe we should take these off,” San said, tugging on his leather jacket before shrugging it off. “The last thing we need is to be caught. There could be surfers on the beach right now and the jackets would be a dead giveaway.” He popped open the compartment box on his motorcycle and threw in his jacket.

“Kind of like Perry the Platypus,” Jongho commented, mirroring San in taking off his jacket. “It’s the brown hat that reveals his identity.”

“They’re not that stupid,” Hongjoong said but followed suit in temporarily disposing of his leather jacket.

The three of them left the parking lot with speed. As  Jongho and San began chattering about their favorite Phineas and Ferb episodes, Hongjoong was able to spot Seonghwa’s pink car and Seonghwa himself leaning on it. He waved his fingers as a greeting when they met eyes from far away.

“It’s even easier than I thought,” Seonghwa snickered and jabbed his thumb at the beach. “The surfboards are just sitting there in the sand. Did they really think they’d be safe there? What do they think we are, stupid?”

“They just didn’t think we’d steal them,” San giggled, rubbing his hands together with a satisfactory smirk. Jongho was quick to rip off his shoes and socks and take off running across the boardwalk and onto the beach. The other three held their breath - they didn’t see anyone on the beach, but they still had a bit of fear that somehow the surfers would know they were on their turf even from the moment Jongho touched the sand.

Jongho scampered off of the boardwalk and jumped directly into the sand, his hair whipping as he descended and touched onto the sandy ground and broke into a run. “I haven’t felt sand between my toes in-” he started as he ran, but then he stopped in his tracks and swore.

Hongjoong frantically looked around the beach. Had Jongho seen a surfer? San and Seonghwa mirrored him with worry.

“I stepped on a rock!” Jongho howled, hopping up and down while holding his foot. “Shit, that hurts, what the hell…”

San held back laughter next to Hongjoong, but then he quickly cleared his throat and became serious. “Are you alright, Jjong?” He called out, to which Jongho wordlessly nodded. He had stopped hopping in the sand and was slowly putting his foot back on the ground like he was afraid the sand would snap at him.

Seonghwa stayed on the boardwalk near the car while Hongjoong and San stepped down into the sand behind Jongho. Almost as a response, ocean waves crashed down threateningly as Hongjoong walked through the sand with his combat boots on. He didn’t want to have the same fate as Jongho.

“They’re really just sitting here,” Jongho called out to the two of them from far away, motioning to the ground. He picked up one, a white board with a pink lotus flower design at the top, and then another, a green and white striped one, and began gleefully running towards the two of them. He passed them by with a cheeky grin.

“It shouldn’t be this easy,” San mused, looking at the boards lying in the sand as they approached. “Aren’t these expensive?”

“I literally don’t care,” Hongjoong said, rushing forward to claim one of them. He picked up the one that was closest to him, one with flames of fire painted on the side. “They can buy them from us if they really want them back.”

San held back a laugh as he picked up another and put it under his arm. “And isn’t that one from their really good surfer?” He asked, pointing to the board Hongjoong was holding.

“Do you pay attention to surfing competitions?” Hongjoong side-eyed.

San smiled softly and his eyes twinkled. “Know your enemy.” He stared at Hongjoong solemnly for a few seconds before grinning and walking off with his boards. There was only one left, and Hongjoong managed to get it under his arm while simultaneously holding onto the other one. “That was too easy-” Hongjoong muttered to himself, then looked up. His stomach dropped.

Two surfers were giggling and skipping straight to the shore. Hongjoong had never been so glad that it was dark out because during the day they certainly would have been seen immediately. To his relief, San had seen them before he had. He was lying on his stomach more than a few feet away with his boards discarded next to him, more frozen than a statue. Hongjoong dropped to the sand unceremoniously and mimicked him.

The surfers, two girls, were whooping and hollering as they raced to the ocean. Their Hawaiian print shirts proved themselves to be surfers, as only surfers and tourists could go into surfing shops. And no tourist would go to the ocean at night - tourists were afraid of the bikers, especially when the sun was down. If they were seen, they could agitate some of the more influential surfers. There could be a tussle even as it neared midnight.

Hongjoong’s mind raced with thoughts, most laced with anxiety and others in fear. A small portion of these thoughts, however, were tampered with adrenaline and excitement. Having surfboards so close to his fingertips while surfers frolicked, oblivious, was empowering. But most of his anxious thoughts steered him back to the present, lying in the cold sand - he still had to get the boards to Seonghwa without being spotted. To his relief, Jongho had managed to reach Seonghwa before he saw the surfers, and if he looked close enough at the pink car, he saw two pairs of feet on the other side of it, blocking them from the ocean’s view.

Hongjoong turned his attention to San in the sand. “I don’t think they can see us,” Hongjoong said without lowering the volume of his voice. The two surfers were far enough that there was no way they could hear them. They were too enraptured in playing in the water and laughing to notice what was going on. “Just be careful. I think slowly pushing the boards while lying on the ground will get us to safety without a hiccup.”

“This is insane,” San told him back but followed his instruction. Using his hands, he shoved the boards forward before pulling his own body forward to catch up with them. The technique wasn’t incredibly effective, but it was moving them. Hongjoong swore he felt a crab scuttle by his leg. He decided to ignore the feeling.

Eventually, after lots of awkward shuffling on the sandy ground, San and Hongjoong reached the end of the beach and the beginning of the boardwalk. “Jesus,” San groaned and shoved the two boards over to Jongho, who was clambering down the stairs from the boardwalk to retrieve the boards.

“My name is Jongho,” he said, taking them. San, already tired from crawling across the beach, lost any remaining willpower he had.

Hongjoong managed to stand up with one of the boards and brought it over to the trunk of the pink car. He threw it in and Seonghwa made a horrible noise.

“The boards are sandy!” He spat, shoving by him to take the board out of the car and dust it off. “Hongjoong, Angelina will remove my bowels, or I’ll remove my own bowels if there's fucking sand in her car-”

Hongjoong wiped his hand on his black shirt. Sand rained down onto the ground. “Good thing I brought my bike, then," he said with his eyebrows raised. Seonghwa took a step back from him and his sandy clothing but did not stop wiping the board.

Jongho hauled the last surfboard into the trunk of the car with a similar sandy rant from Seonghwa before catching up to San and Hongjoong, who were making their way back to the parking lot where their bikes lay waiting.

“I’m going to have sand in my pants for weeks,” San grumbled as he twisted and turned his body, attempting to shake off what was left of the sand on his shirt. Sand showered onto the pavement from his movements, blending in with the sand that was already there from tourists that had enjoyed the beach earlier in the day.

Jongho, who had been spared from the beach’s sand, adjusted his clean clothing smugly. Hongjoong wanted to wipe the smirk off of his face with his fist. It was through his own composure that he didn’t.

“But it will be well worth it when the surfers wake up tomorrow morning and find that their surfboards, their expensive ones no less, are gone,” Hongjoong reminded them. “You know, I think selling them back to them would be a great idea. We could use some extra money for bike parts.” The other two snickered.

They reached their motorcycles in the parking lot. The midnight moon cast a white glow onto them, making the silver meal shine. Hongjoong hopped onto his bike and threw on his helmet. He didn’t put his jacket back on - he figured some riding would take off some of the sand from his shirt.

“Hongjoong,” San said while Hongjoong was putting his helmet on his head. “Where are we going to put the boards now that we have them? If the surfers do figure out we stole their surfboards and they investigate us, they’ll find them easily. They’re not exactly small things.”

Hongjoong smiled underneath his helmet. “That’s where the selling comes in,” he said. He was half-joking - they wouldn’t be getting them back even if they asked nicely, or not so nicely. But he wasn’t opposed to extra cash in his pocket for the surfers’ stupidity if they offered it to the bikers. “We can hang them up on the wall, actually,” Hongjoong continued. “Nothing like a little ‘fuck you’ as they walk by the Harley Davidson store and see them propped up on the wall like trophies.” The surfers weren’t allowed into the store because it was biker territory.

San’s eyes narrowed with mischief and a smirk tickled the sides of his lips. “That’s heinous. I love it,” he said, slipping on his helmet. “I can hang them up when we get back,” he continued, then looked around the rest of the parking lot. “Since our strong man has already ridden off.”

“He has someone in his bedsheets that doesn’t exist, he has to hurry home,” Hongjoong said to both San and to himself. He put his hands on the motorcycle and started up the engine with a smile. “Wanna race?”

San hopped onto his motorcycle with a grin.