"Holy shit, Jeongin, is it true?"

"What's up Jisung?" He placed his phone down on the shop table, hands folding over themselves as he waiting for the street racer to begin his interrogation that even Noir detectives would tremble in gear when confronted with. Their monochrome hues had nothing on his navy hair. Or, so Jisung would think when in reality, the questioning tended to lean entirely good cop than even pretending to be portional bits of good and bad to exist in the murky gray areas where shadows like them tended to hide. Funny dichotomy; The way that one was presented versus who they truly are. At times he would think he never knew anyone at all.

Jisung slid into the seat adjacent of his friend, elbows thunking methodically against the table top as his eyes narrowed into that questioning look that only cut through minimal layers of surface tension, "I think it's just a rumor. But. Hear me out. Your goody-two shoes friends came to ask me how you were doing and so I was like 'Why don't you ask him?' and they were like 'We do, but we don't think he's totally honest', so I said 'Haha, yeah, Jeongin tends to LIE about his feelings-"

"Get to the point, would you?" Jeongin interrupted, trying to mimic a sweetness to his voice that came out borderline caustic.

Jisung just sighed at the lack of enthusiasm, at least what he thought was the lack of enthusiasm, his lips pursing into a shape of annoyance as his arms folded across this chest to shield from the sharp words. He finally announced, "Did you really drop out?"

"No, that's not a rumor," Jeongin shook his head, shoulders almost relaxing at the fact that it wasn't something worse. Or something crazy like he was the reason Armageddon was pencilled in for next Thursday at noon, or he was the sole person alive who could stop the zombie apocalypse because of the metoclopramide he took when he was seven and bedridden because of a stomach flu. That list grew on and on, how much worse it could have been, and unknowingly letting his shoulder ease because it wasn't that. Jeongin scooped his phone off the table and went back to flipping through his apps, voice coming quiet over the other's intensity, "I dropped out earlier this week."

The street racer shot from his seat, "Does Chan know?!"

"Of course he does," Jeongin barely glanced up from his phone as he copied that silly habit of a low hum, "Why wouldn't he?"

"You got into a habit of keeping things to yourself and it caused problems."

"He knows, and we agreed on it. There's courses I can take at colleges without a diploma, and I can always take the proficiency exam or whatever it's called. My life isn't over because I did, and it was a decision that I made."

"Yeah, no. Sounds like you were forced to research this first."

Jeongin quirked an eyebrow at the other, receiving nothing but a knowing look in return. As he nodded without another word, that knowing look hardened before melting into an empathy that he had only seen the bravest of warriors give their fallen brethren, an unspoken solidarity filling the air between them. A silent conversation of, 'You too?' enforced on them by people who seriously cared about them. Though, he didn't dare ask whether that person to force Jisung was Changbin, Minho, or Chan, but either way Jeongin sent a mental curse to all of them. Damn them trying to be rational.

Of course, he didn't hold any serious intent in that thought. But it was very tempting to.

"If you're not doing anything, can you work on that new map?" Changbin mentioned as he placed a set of gloves and a few parcels no bigger than his hand, contents drizzling like raindrops inside the paper, on the table. The burnt grease on his hands left it's remnants wherever he had dared to touch, bits of it flecking off onto his cheeks and ears when he didn't care enough to keep those blotches of skin clear. With another light scratch at his forearm, the street racer told, "He said he had issues with the engine. I'm worried if we don't fix it he'll end up wrecking that beautiful thing."

Jeongin quirked an eyebrow, "Not worried about his safety?

"He'll be fine, always is," Changbin lilted, his fingers coming to dig in his skin as if he were trying to tear the flesh from his very muscles. The younger quickly reached over and flicked the back of his hand, afterwards relaxing back into his seat as the other's knuckles came to rest on the table top.

"What is a map, anyway?"

"It's the programming that makes the car go vroooommm," Jisung nodded as he bounded from his seat. He wobbled over to the discarded laptop sat lazily on top of the tool cart, plucking it gently from the top before slamming it back down on the wooden table, settling in for the long haul as he propped his foot up on the edge of his seat, "Changbin and I were working on one for our oh so great King but Chan's saying there's issues? What was wrong with it?"

"The handling; He said it felt clunky and the OBI-II came up with a fuel efficiency problem," Changbin told with a slight amusement in his tone, as if he could predict exactly what the other would say in response to the commentary on the engine's performance. Jeongin had the vague idea of where Jisung's attitude would lead them next as well, and the more his face scrunched under the pressure, the more obvious it became.

"He? Is calling my? Programming? Clunky? Boy better watch it or he's going to find his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere," As if they could predict the future, Jisung leered at the laptop's starting screen. As it grew with life and brightened his features, it pronounced the beseeching but lukewarm glare spreading on the edge of his lips. His eyes scanned over the screen, the pads of his fingers coming to rest on top of the keys with an excited fervor to them despite the reluctant look on their owner's face. He groaned, "I bet I forgot a backslash somewhere in there. Screw this coding bullshit."

Changbin let out a light laugh as he watched the other street racer. He stuck around in the growing silence, a reserved notion about him as he observed his friend with a softness in his eyes. It wasn't the in the same way Minho looked at Jisung, or even the way that Chan looked at Jeongin, but those undertones of an adoration remained. Maybe not adoration, but a respect. A respect of knowing, how long and how far they've had to crawl in order to find a place called 'home'. All the crew members kept that stare about them, those glances of a solemn understanding. It seemed, for a bit, they had been forgetting what that feeling was supposed to be.

As the other pounded on the keyboard, a firm twinge of irritation reining king in his eyes, Changbin grabbed his gloves and the parcel off the top of the table. Jeongin carefully watched him gather the items, wondering with a quiet tone, "Where are you going?"

"To take care of the flowerbeds outside. I've been meaning to for a while but life keeps getting in the way," Changbin waved the gloves in his direction, a small smile edging on his lips as he offered, "Did you want to help?"

Jisung glanced up from the laptop, "You're going to try and recover the flowerbeds? Haha, neeeeeeeerrrrr-"

"Yeah, I'll help," Jeongin purposefully ignored the other's teasing as he hesitantly stood from his seat and plucked the gloves from Changbin's fists.

"NnnnnnnnnnnneeEeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-"

They glanced over to the droning Jisung.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrraaaaauuuuuugggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-"

Changbin scowled at him, "Are you done?"

"-nnerrrddds. Nerds. Yeah, sorry," Jisung immediately dropped his head back to the screen to avoid the other's harsh stare, stabbing through the air he occupied as if hewas nothing but a empty space to be filled. He went back to typing out endless thoughts and lines of whatever he was typing out on the worn keyboard, "Have fun you two, leave the big brain stuff to your old pal Jisung."

If his comment was supposed to quip at the other, it only seemed to backfire at the younger. And Jisung seemed to know this as soon as the words had left his lips. He cleared his throat to focus solely on the screen in front of him, leaving the other two to complete the tasks they decided on in those few moments Jisung was checked out of the conversation.

Changbin waved Jeongin on, the younger trailing after him as if he was a baby duckling following it's lost mother through wheat fields and riverbeds, all the world for it to see before it grew cynical of the hues surrounding it. He was led to the front of the shop, where the main issue of flowerbeds needed to be tended to. Flowerbeds covered in vibrant petals for the season they grew in. Some of the flowers began to wilt. Not due to a lack of attention or love, but due to the end of their time. Every flower had a season, and it seemed that this one was coming to an end.

It was almost ironic; This place that harbored beasts of wrath and greed, kept envy and lust hidden, eased gluttony and let pride consume their minds, it was guarded not by hellhounds or lions but by flowers. Flowers that brought a happiness to the shop it might never have experienced otherwise. For a place that contained so much uncertainty, sorrow, pain, it was protected by flowers. How strange it was to think, after being shrouded in a confounding darkness, after being stuck in a cage for as long as his mind let him be trapped, the first thing he would touch upon seeing light was... Flowers.

His thoughts were interrupted when the street racer set the parcel down, hands beginning to dig at the dirt in which many would think they belonged. In which one day they would most likely returned, but that thought was more morbid than helpful and was quickly dismissed. With a delicate hand, Jeongin fumbled with the small parcel, finally coming to see the printed image of flowers coated in a violet with petals that mimicked the tails of foxes and bladed edges that cut them. He quietly knocked into the others side, murmuring to him, "What are these?"

"Lupines," Changbin answered casually. He scanned over the other, adding in as an afterthought, "They're toxic."

"Oh," Jeongin's lips mimicked a circle as he hummed the light tone. He gently set the package down.

"Only if you eat the seeds. You'll be fine touching them," Changbin finished the last thought with a light laugh, the tease of someone like a family jeering at the younger's unsure antics.

"Won't you get in trouble for having these around the shop?" Jeongin sent him a firm glare in response. He nudged the tiny seed package again, fingertips gingerly bumping against the paper as he stared at the picture. His knees came closer to his body as he murmured, "They're really pretty."

"We can bypass laws as long as someone who works here knows how to treat it," Changbin explained as he uprooted a few of the wilting flowers, prompting the younger to meagerly follow along with hesitant hands, trying to weed out the ones who's time had come and gone. The street racer nodded to himself as he mused, "We get a few stray cats but Minho tends to feed them away from the shop so they don't get hurt. Plus, the seeds won't be visible for a while."

He seems to know what he's talking about. Jeongin passed a few of the dead flowers beside him, the overgrowing pile of vegetation growing into a decent pile. He was half tempted to keep them and give them to Chan as a gift, but, on second thought dead flowers don't seem like they would send a positive message to the other. Then again, it wasn't as if they were sending positive messages to one another until recently, and even now it was questionable at times when they weren't trying to be physically close. Jeongin tugged at an invasive weed, a quiet hum on his lips as he pondered, "Why lupines?"

"Do you like flower meanings?"

"Never looked much into it."

"They often say that when you plant lupines in your garden, they bring the strength to overcome trauma. But, who knows if that's true. What is true is that they're a sight when they bloom."

Jeongin's eyes narrowed at him as he worked at the flowerbeds, knowledgeable motions to the actions he took with little to no hesitation Somewhere in the back of his mind, he began to wonder how many days he spend reading and learning to create with the hurricane of consciousness within his mind. He comforted, "It must have some sort of truth to it, if you picked them for that reason."

With a slight nod of agreement, Changbin continued, "There's that, but it's more of doing this kind of stuff helps me clear my mind. It sounds weird; I'm considered a criminal, do illegal street racing for the fun of it, and had a bad streak of drug abuse not too long ago. But I like to take care of plants."

"No, it's not weird. I guess, having something to be passionate about is good for you," Jeongin chimed, a small understanding in the back of his throat. His jaw tightened, a slight grind gritting his teeth together for not much reason besides trying to bite a reality of his own uncertainty beginning to become not such an unknown. He let the dirt his palms carefully resting in cool the heat radiating under his skin, "Anyway, it's not like I know that much about what is and isn't good for my mental health."

"That's something that's specific to everyone. What works for me might not work for you. I like to clear my mind when there's too much happening, and Jisung likes to put that cluttered mess into action. Sometimes it gets dangerous like you saw, but for the most part he's done more good then harm, they all have" Changbin concluded. It was more to himself than anyone else, the notion taking root in his mind similar to the plants he nurtured so tediously till it became a tantalizingly tenacious task no one but himself inclined him to do. At least, he gave himself that duty. Something that he could care for by his own means. Something that was special. The street racer turned to the younger, "Is there anything you're interested in?"

Jeongin thought about it for a few beats, letting his mind file through the cabinets he kept his memories hidden in. After a while he settled on an answer and nodded, "I really liked driving the other day, if that counts as an interest."

"Why?"

"Not sure. I guess it was one of the first times I felt like... I could keep going, or I could've stopped, even taken it to side roads or turned around at anytime," Jeongin pulled up a flower, a snap resonating through his hand as the stem broke between his fingers. He inspected the dying petals under a gentle stare, an overwhelming fear that if he was too intense it would melt and disappear forever. His fingers came to light pinch at the flower, and this time, he didn't break the delicate frame, "It was like I was free but...?"

"You were in control, and your decisions were listened to," Changbin concluded, a swift agreement chasing after, "That's one of the reasons I got into cars. It was a chance to have that freedom of choice."

"I'm sorry," The younger pressed his lips into a thin line.

"For what?"

"Not sure, just feel like apologizing."

"Guilt, apologies, those kinds of things are wasted emotions if they don't have a purpose. I don't really believe in a lot of superstition and belief but maybe because of these flowers or- Or something else but I hope you can begin to let go. Let go, but don't run away."

Jeongin glanced down to the dying flower.

A figure from the bay doors interrupted them. Jisung proclaimed, a pain to his voice that was oversimplified by the dramatic act, "Changbin you are so amazing and I want to say, I am deeply in love with you."

"Sorry, I'm not interested in a relationship right now," Changbin's features hardened as he vigorously shook his head, a swift denial with no hopes of anything else fuming from every inch of his body. He added, that rejection turning to a fast amusement as him and Jeongin exchanged a knowing glance, "And you have someone else that has eyes for you."

"Yeah but damn, you're in another league. We should all fall in love with you."

"Thanks?"

"You better thank me," Jisung turned his chin up. He kicked at the older, "Why don't we play billiards anymore?"

Changbin hit his foot away, the next time he tried he managed to catch it without much difficulty and send the younger into a hobbling mess. He pointed out, the tiniest bit of a tease to his tone as he did, "Things got a bit complicated, didn't it?"

"Yeah, true," The other street racer hissed. He managed to wiggle free from Changbin's vice grip and backed away from him, hand coming to a sharp point that mimicked Hyunjin's tendency of accusation redirection with the tip of his fingers. Jisung complained, "I need help with a line, the computer is being weird. You too Jeongin, come see what I'm wasting my life away doing."

Changbin stood from his seat on the concrete road, barely brushing his hands off from the constant build up from job after job. The other street racer prodded him along, tasing fingers poking him when the older grew too reluctant.

With a quiet laugh, Jeongin set the dead marigold next to him and joined the two crew members.

✘