#mmhanbin

starter for @mmhanbin !

pip knows the greenhouses like the back of his hand. he knows when anything’s out of place - after all it’s partly his job to keep everything in it’s spot, so when he walks in one day and notices a trowel knocked off the long table in the centre of the greenhouse, no laying on the floor in the middle of the walkway, he frowns. he knows he left it on the table with the others last night. 

someone’s been in here.

usually pip would just suppose it was one of the other herbology students, or club members, but everyone knows pip’s meticulous with the greenhouse, and that he won’t be pleased finding something out of it’s place - that’s how he knows it isn’t one of them. he’s crouching down to pick up the trowel and set it back on the table, when he hears a rustle from deeper inside the greenhouse. 

glaring in the direction of the noise pip draws his wand, leaving the trowel on the floor, and slowly moves towards the source of the noise. if it’s an animal he’ll be less angry - they don’t know any better, but his guts telling him it isn’t, that it’s another student, trying to mutilate his babies right under his nose. 

      seo yujun doing charity work—a laughable sight. it’s not so absurd though, really. not if you think about it hard enough. squint just a little. his heart isn’t made of pure gold. ( brassy sheen. cool to the touch. that kind of gold. ) it’s none of the above. that was stripped of him a long time ago in these very halls. but if you look closely here and there, you’ll find traces of it. tarnished maybe, but there all the same. broken pieces and fragments of what used to be.

      the trek to the apartment is familiar. too familiar. the laziness in his bones wears him down, and yet it propels him. walking him further and further along the worn sidewalk like it was second nature. ( it should be at this point. ) he could do it in his sleep if he’s being honest. ( probably already has. )

      upon arriving at the door, he can only marvel at the ability of his muscle memory. ( his drunk, crossfaded, all kinds of fucked up, but still, muscle memory all the same. ) if he were more polite, less impatient, less impulsive, he might have knocked first to at least warn hanbin of his presence. perhaps give the elder some buffer time to prepare for whatever storm he’s been brewing. unfortunately, he’s none of those things tonight. tonight he whispers a quick alohomora, wand in hand, and just like that the door opens for him with a click—it’s that simple.

      “hanbin hyung,” he calls like he owns the place. it’s in his posture. the way he walks around the living room. the thud that sounds when he falls onto the couch, making himself comfortable on its frayed surface. “stop studying or whatever and let’s go do something.”

      in all truth he’s got a plan. these days hanbin’s stress levels have been through the roof. so much so that it’s making yujun stressed out as well. and so the baek ho really has no choice but to intervene. for hanbin’s sake, yes. but also for his own, if anything. so is it charity work if it’s partially for his own benefit? ( let’s just say yes for now. )

      “i’m bored,” he whines as if this was plenty of reason. as if this was the end all be all. he pulls out his juul, inhaling deeply before letting the thick cloud of smoke rise up and out. fogging up his vision in all the right places. blueberry. one of his favorite flavors. “hang out with me tonight.”

by near-sunset, you spot our (arguably) favorite inciter in the potions laboratory. the day’s been relatively slower than most, but haram lets it be in the interim. standing by the exit with books in one arm, he waits for his project-partner as she empties the glass flasks by the sink. yisol, a seemingly well-groomed, well-behaved student in class with decent achievements if not almost-stellar. 

yisol, with a pensive smile and fingers that fidget through her steps towards haram.

i can’t believe she got an o on that project of hers. it’s a mix of envy, pride, and greed. she’s quick to open up to his friendly bearing, spilling this and that about the girl who aced her project earlier this afternoon. how she, compared to her, can do so much better if it weren’t for the professor’s blatant favoritism. the lopsided smile that creeps up on her lips as she goes on and on, blind to haram’s smile that double-crosses.

“and, are you jealous?”

his voice brims with hospitality, but his words obviously belong on the flip-side. yisol, flustered, quickly hits back with a huffy ‘no, of course not–,’ gesturing with her hands as she babbles just about the most unintelligible weave of words in her defense. 

“you’ve had the past five– no, six years to prove yourself.” pause, then he continues with a step towards her, fixing the book that’s coming to a fall in his arm. “have you thought about how if you could’ve done it, you already would’ve?” yisol steps back in her intuitive guard, recognizing nothing of haram’s prior demeanor in the way he pries.

has he always smiled like that?

“if you just accept that fact that yoorim’s been exceedingly better than you since birth, i promise it will be so, so much easier on you.”

and with that, to no one’s surprise, she cracks. her face flushed in mahogany, she breaks down with a muffled cry, his words crushing the walls that have been covering up the truth: the one she’s been oh-so-dreading for years. her heart’s probably in ashes by the time she strides out the door with a palm over her teary eyes, and to the readers’ silent boo, haram shouts a little above the level of inside-voices with his smile still intact. 

“–lies will only add to the buildup of your fall, yisol! think on it.”

with a soft grunt, he bends down to pick up the fallen notes from her binder before shaking off the dust. clumsy, clumsy. and by the time he steps out the door himself, he’s just a tad bit surprised to see the silent third person in the scene, semi-blocking his path. though, the curtains to the show have already come to a close.

act ii, anyone?