#rmjungeun

@rmjungeun​

for freaks like jongin, the lab is a sanctuary. the beginning of a new school year marks more frequent visits to the lab, a new research assistant post, and empty labs. hands deftly wipe down the last of the beakers and place them neatly into the cabinet. behind him, on one of the long tables, a complicated set up of test tubes, flasks, plastic tubing, bunsen burners, and burets is all held together by a multitude of clamps and ring stands. there is quiet but there are also the small pops of bubbling mixtures and the lethargic, rhythmic drip of distilled solution. a translucent green liquid fills half of the beaker on the far right. he turns off the bunsen burners and the water flow for the condenser, and picks up the beaker, holding it to the light to verify its consistency and clarity—

“SHIT!”

in the next chemistry lab over, an obscenity, shattering glass, and an explosion—not large but contained. loud, but probably not enough to shock the security guard awake in the lobby downstairs. jongin takes long strides towards the door that connects the two rooms, beaker still gripped in his right hand. the window set into the door is clouded by grey smoke. it rushes out in grateful escape as he swings open the door. he immediately buries his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm and squints. he discards the beaker on a nearby table and takes a step inside, fumbling for the switch which turns on the fume extraction system. there is violent coughing, the rumble of fans, and a low wooshing as the smoke is quickly sucked up into the vents.

@rmjungeun

@rmjungeun

from the beauty of his alessandra, a silver sedan with mismatched doors and scrap metal patches, he exits.

here, he wears a coat of dirt and grime under the heat of incheon’s summer sun. sweat dots his every surface of skin, and it causes his thick overalls to stick uncomfortably to his chest. fatigue stretches to the tips of his digits, and there is an uncomfortable tightness in his muscles that guarantees a pleasant sore tomorrow.

this is how hanbin clocks out of work, boneless and relieved. it is not that he hates his job; in fact, he understands that working at a junkyard is doubly beneficial for someone like him, who struggles to find the resources heavy enough for weight training. additionally, like many sportsmen, hanbin actually enjoys being in a gym or equivalent.

still, he doesn’t let that stop him from using this as an excuse to warrant him a small reward.

and so there, he makes a detour into a small convenience store located some ways from gumi, with the sole intention of grabbing a small snack.

(perhaps a cold drink to accompany him on his journey back to gumi. maybe a chocolate bar, something with walnuts to remind him of his dear halmi.)

he grabs the respective items and strides uncaringly towards the checkout counter, but what he sees next stops him in his tracks.

dirty blonde hair, scarlet red lips and an overly obnoxious stance.

he knows that stance anywhere.

(perhaps he still has some energy in him yet.)

“if it isn’t the devil incarnate herself!” his effort to grab her attention results in a loud bellow that is admittedly too loud for a place as small as this.

hanbin drops his items haphazardly onto the narrow counter, one of the many stretches he takes in making her life somewhat difficult.