Chan slumped against the couch. Head tilted back, neck on display to the sweet intoxication of cigarette smoke filling the living room, his glazed eyes trained on a world far from where they existed. Deep in his thoughts again, falling infinitely down that rabbit hole until his feet were trapped in quicksand. He held a cigarette carefully between his lips, the same as he had done before, only this time letting the embers of the lit end burn his skin whenever it flaked off. Mercilessly, it branded him as another criminal. Another degenerate. Another person. He would be treated all the same and he was no different.

Again? Jeongin frowned to himself as he watched the other from their bedroom doorway. Of course he would notice the weight in the bed gone. Of course, it just so happened that weight was the one murdering his own lungs on the couch.

Stealthily, Jeongin rolled his feet in order to not make any noise as he approached the older from behind. Staying low, head down, steps as quiet as he could manage, he got the jump on the older as he snatched the cigarette from Chan's lips. The street racer startled. Jeongin let ascowl overcome his features as he stepped in front of Chan and pointed towards the balcony, "Go outside."

"What?" Chan blinked up at him, a shock dancing on his features and a genuine puzzlement in his tone. Not one of anger, simply complete and utter intrigue. And honestly? Seeing him like this, it was rare. The younger quickly snapshotted the mental image of his face, before the other was able to comprehend the situation through his tired mind.

"Go outside until the smell is off you," The younger lowered his voice to a growl.

The collar of his shirt was yanked down, the sudden force nearly flipping Jeongin over the back of the couch if not for the hand that pulled him down slamming violently into his chest when it stopped. His hands shot out to brace his rapid descent forward, and they did a fine job of it, if it weren't for the fact the only thing he had to brace himself against was the couch and a certain someone grabbing him like a ragdog, namely Chan. And if he just so happened to enjoy the excuse to touch Chan, then who was to judge him?

The older's fist didn't release from his clutch on Jeongin's shirt. And despite the position that kept the younger at his will, kept them incredibly close, close enough for Jeongin to feel the older's breath ghosting along his collarbone. And Chan, in a surprisingly calm voice, simply threatened, "Growling at me like an animal, I'll handle you like one."

Okay, I can judge myself for liking this. Jeongin throttled the mental image of him a few times, specifically the mental image of him that enjoyed being treated in such an unkind way. Even worse was when that same mental image of him managed to front and purred, "Maybe I should wear a leash. You would enjoy that."

"All those people who thought you were such a good boy," Chan laughed lightly as he roughly shoved the younger far enough to scan his face with those eyes full of mischief and ruin. Eyes that would summon the devil himself from the pits of hell and win against him. Once again, Jeongin had to remind himself to not feel as excited as he was, and to not be enjoying every second he initiated. Chan definitely noticed the inner turmoil. Because his next comment, his voice dropped and as if his tongue was made of silver, his words were so sweet, despite being the siren taunt of, "I wonder what they would think if they could hear you now."

Let them know. Jeongin thought as his grip tightened, but never vocalized it.

With a heavy sigh, the older, threw his head against the back of the couch as he let go of the younger to allow him to readjust his shirt and calm the shaking in his arms. He quirked an eyebrow as he asked, "Wanted me to go outside?"

Jeongin nodded and weakly pointed towards the balcony.

He let out another heavy sigh, though it wasn't as serious as the previous, and he trudged away. The gentle slide and close of the balcony door filled the silence of the living room as Chan left him for the chilly night air.

With a shaky breath, Jeongin tongued at the back of his teeth as he watched Chan's silhouette on the balcony. This was a very confusing feeling. Being attracted to someone was very confusing. Very, very confusing. There were a hundred better words to use; Intriguing, perplexing, puzzling, mystifying but again he settled on confusing. How else could it be explained? That pounding in his chest, the heat in his face, that devastating impulse to reach out and touch someone he craved so much yet wasn't able to. Physically, yes, he could touch the older as much as he wanted but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. It was another one of those caged feelings begging for a release but not knowing how.

His hand stung. He glanced down at the crushed cigarette still resting between his fingers, the lit end leaving red discolorations on every inch of his skin it burned. Jeongin frowned at it, Guess I got too wrapped up to notice.

He promptly shook it off, feet dragging under him as they carried his tired body to join the other out on the balcony. Once again, the city lights and night air blasting him in the face as if he stepped into an entirely different world. The older was leaning his back against the railing, eyes trained on Jeongin as he too stepped up to the metal bars and tossed the cigarette over the side, watching it fall until it became nothing.

Chan hummed as they stared at the area it fell, "Feel bad for whoever that landed on."

The younger let out a light laugh as he relaxed, arms coming to brace himself over the edge of the world as his side bumped into Chan's. A hand came to rest on Jeongin's back as the older faced the city, the same as Jeongin.

And this moment was too perfect. The endless night sky speckled with few stars, the gentle midnight breeze swaying their hair back and forth, the bright city lights illuminating and casting shadows to accentuate his perfect features against the illustrious background, it was all so beautiful. A long time ago Jeongin might have let his heart pick up speed until it could be borne no longer, he might have let himself admire the skyscrapers slicing their subtle secrets and bleeding hearts open. He might have wished to be a part of this world. One he wouldn't have ever been able to reach. Now he was at the top of it; This city on a hill that he would never have been able to reach.

He was standing at the peak of it, this crux of every demand humanity reined emperor over. He was at the top. At any time, he could let himself fall, slip, dive over the edge, he could be commanded to do it at any time and it would be lost to the wind. He could lose it in the cigarette burns throbbing on his hands, in the reminiscent pain in healing scars, in the other's face, his mind, his body. It could be lost in an overwhelming gluttony, a voracity for something called 'love'. Experiencing 'love', how true it is, how alive it is. And deciding, above all else, that it was never worth it in the first place. Or if it was, it didn't matter now. Those kinds of feelings, the frugality of emotions, they were lost in these kinds of moments and were reducted to  nothing more than the base instincts they started as.

The hand on his back rubbed gingerly at his skin, as sparse and as delicate as the space between nightlights guiding their way along these cloudy roads. Chan, this confident symbol of everything Jeongin had ever wanted to be, he was a creature of polished instinct. He, who had spent so much of his life hiding. Learning. Taunting, a forward challenge, for any who dared to destroy him again. Chan, this confident symbol, was so gentle. As if the touch was afraid, he was so so gentle, when minutes prior it had been destructive. There was so much weight behind that touch, to the point that connection could move Jeongin to broken sobs. It was real. It was the most real thing either of them had experienced for a long time.

As Chan soothed Jeongin with the simple contact wanting nothing more and nothing less, the warmth from them keeping their hearts warm in the night, the older chanced the moment to break it's stillness. Though he kept the dormant disposition about him, he hummed, "Did you ever figure out who deleted the contacts?"

"No. I figure my Mom did, on one of the days I left my phone at her house by accident. Or someone broke into my locker when they realized it was busted," Jeongin easily replied, subconsciously letting himself lean closer to the other as his shoulder bumped against a familiar chest and brought him closer. A huff of content air left his lungs, escaping into the night and carrying with it the final affidavits of worries as he finalized, "Either way, it doesn't matter now. I don't care enough to find out, just want to let go of all that bullshit."

Chan quirked a careful eyebrow at him, "Think it's a good idea to let go of it? Doubted me for a long time."

"Yeah, I do," Jeongin nodded as he told, "I mean, you aren't all bad. You could've been a lot worse and, I may have pushed my own issues on to your actions."

"Not completely innocent, I've made it clear I'm not a saint," The older let a smile grow on his features. There was nothing happy about it. It was one of those smiles, the kind you would only see so many times before it is hidden again. It was a smile of gravity, one that tethered behind it a vulnerability rarely displayed unless closed permanently in silent walls. It was the kind of smile that would bring a pain to your heart, or a heaviness weighting words in your throat, even if you weren't sure why.

Jeongin scanned his features, mimicking the observant hawk eye of the older when he tried to dissect the people surrounding him. Although he could see that ache, he was never able to piece together why. What has made you shield yourself so much? But never turning up with an answer. Naturally, Jeongin pressed closer to Chan, "Would you change it?"

"No. If I did, won't get the chance to meet you, or meet the crew. I regret a lot. But changing it?" The other's answer shifted to repeat the question to himself. His head shook meagerly, deliberate movements balancing a response with not brutally slamming his head into the younger, "No. Someone like me can't wish for those liberties."

And again, Jeongin was reduced to mapping the landscape of Chan's face on the canvas of his memories as he tried to pick at the divots in his features, the lines of his veins. Trying to transpose it on familiar memories of a time not too long ago, an iridescence blotched out by a botched attempt at fake normalcy. He was forced back to a reliance of base instincts, wanting to make sense of the heavy eyes weary of everything the world around fed it. Wishing to direct those eyes to him, Jeongin brushed his fingers in an unsure call, the arduous question leaving his tongue, "Are you scared?"

As if he had never heard the word 'scared' before, Chan shot back, "How so?"

"You've said it yourself. You don't think you'll live past your thirties. There's police after you for reasons you refuse to tell us," Jeongin listed off, before repeating in a lilt, "Are you scared?"

He waited a few beats. His eyes drifted somewhere far, farther and farther beyond the blinking lights of the city and what secrets laid hidden in alleyways. The street racer had that same look about him that Jeongin did, back when they first met. Of course he would recognize it. Above all else, it was that kind of look at screamed 'I'll be fine' despite the weight of their gaze, the strain of their smile, and how every time they wished to move their body trembled enough to collapse. To crumble, as soon as one person tried to tip them over or apply pressure to any locking joint of their body as it turned mechanical.

"More scared for the crew than I am for myself," The street racer finally answered after a while of that vacant gaze, "Going to kill each other."

"They might, they're certainly giving it their best shot," Jeongin nodded as a light laugh left his lips.

At the comment, Chan let his own puff of amusement escape from his chest. As true, or as much of a joke as it was, it seemed to bring the older down. Though it didn't appear his spirits were in the best of places when the night proceeded. As if he could sense Jeongin's train of thought, that worried tilt to his head never abandoning as the older was kept under a tight gaze, he explained, "I don't have long. Minho, Hyunjin, they told me. Guess... Always accepted that this was endgame for me but it's different when it happens."

"What are you going to do?" Jeongin felt the bite on the back of his lip more than realized he was attempting to draw blood, as if that disgusting taste in his mouth would be able to save either of them. As the hand on his back ceased it's pacifying path along the younger's spine, he tried to stay close to the other before he retreated back into his labyrinth to hide all the complicated and brutal emotions of this reality behind a maze of concrete.

"Could turn myself in," Chan murmured to the younger, to the city, to whatever hopes that might've been hiding in corners. With that one comment, he managed to shatter them all. All wants for the future, a blaring cacophony of falling sleeping and dreaming of nothing but aspirations turned to delusions. Jeongin watched as his grip on the railing tightened, and the older continued to validate, "Might lighten my sentence."

"If you do, I'll kill you," Jeongin snapped. He pressed away from the railing, coming to stand straight as he pinned the older down with a serious glare, "Then I'll be wanted and you'll be dead and disappointed. Don't turn yourself in."

"And then what do I do?" Chan let an uneasy scowl settle on his features as his eyes scrutinized all the life below his balcony.

With a slight hesitance, Jeongin joined the older again, leaning his back along the railing as it dug into his spine worse than the steering wheel. He tapped at the metal with a hand that braced him, a proud inflation to the air around him as he said, "Teach me how to... How to smoke. How to drive. How to drink, I want to drink. Teach me how to dye my hair and tell me where I should get tattoos. I've been thinking of getting a piercing too. Teach me about everything I've denied myself of for however many years I've been alive. Tell me about how cruel and vile this world is, but tell me how beautiful it can be too."

The older observed him cautiously. When he didn't say anything, Jeongin pressed, "Teach me how to be a street racer."

"No," Chan shifted from him, "Asking this when you're seeing the consequences of it catching up?"

"I'm not an idiot, I've seen it. And why not? Teach me."

"No."

"I'll ask the others to."

"Songbird—"

"Then stay. Stay because you want to see a proper future for all of us. You don't need to stay in the city, you'll need to run, but don't turn yourself in," The younger challenged, for the last time, for any hope at recovering the future ahead of them. For him, for Chan, for the crew, for any one they might reach in the future. He snapped, "If you went behind bars, you're probably not coming back. Don't chance it. After a while, they will forget you ever existed, but the crew won't. I won't. So, don't you dare."

"You've grown so much," The street racer grumbled from beside him, his form beginning to rise against the blips in the sky, blocking out what light reached them. Before Jeongin could seriously ask or make another comment, Chan just imposed, the last remnants of whatever that glimmer in his eyes was beginning to burn through the younger as he brought himself close, "What gives you the right to say what I should do?"

"You're looking for answers. I can't give you what you're looking for, but I care about you. I don't want to see you do something you'll regret," Jeongin smiled fondly at him, and somewhere deep down he hoped the other took it as a defiance until the very end. He let the tenseness in his muscles relax, head falling forward to gently bump their foreheads together. 

As the night grew on, as the sun began to bleed into their hours of comfort, they talked. Slow. Like a walk you take in the company of someone you love when you know. Or that night you didn't sleep because you dreaded the world tomorrow and you know. It was a dread like a tidal wave, it was impossible to not be flooded. Even as their lips locked together to seal away finalized feelings, fingers laced together, a permanency to their lasts and firsts that radiated till the morning in the tangled bedsheets because they know.

As they watched the sun rise, they knew.

By tomorrow, they could never return to the people they were today.

✘