Minho leaned over, elbow propping up against the tables surface as he leaned towards his fellow racer, "They've unlocked their ultimate forms."

"What does that even mean?" Hyunjin's face scrunched, scrutinizing every little action and word the other said under shattering microscope inspecting the finest details in their minds. Even down to the molecules, building their very platforms of life, crumbling the last of their rationale. He followed the other's gaze, coming to find a familiar pair of people they would consider family relaxing by an all too familiar car decorated with different colors. After a few beats of inspecting them, he nodded to Minho and offered the agreement, "I see now."

Jeongin chose to ignore them as he combed fingers through silver hair. His own silver hair, once again picked out by the certain someone doing last minute checks on that imperial engine of unbeatable regal standards. He leaned against the drivers door, heel shoving itself into the ground as he impatiently waited for any sort of sign from the other, eyes choosing to take in the disheveled state of the shop attempting to move on from the news previously given. The days kept on, the hours went by, and the seconds were counting down. Their time was running short. It was obvious in the way the shop bent to their wills, and in the way that the clocks never slowed.

Well, by now, even if the clocks slowed it eventually would come. That inevitable moment. That inevitable goodbye. Some where hidden within Jeongin's chest, kept under the cold nip of the evening sun bleeding into a never-ending void they had called their homes, something ached. It wished, and it longed. It was that same recognizable feeling, when he wanted nothing more than for the slightest of an acknowledgement. From anyone. It was that same painful and consuming feeling. A sort of desire, but not one bred from the festering of repressed sins. Rather, it was a sorrowful one. A desire to stay as things were, and for change to never come.

Then again, if those changes never came he wouldn't be standing where he was; If he didn't have a desire for something different. That future, one where an acquisition for his inevitable doom marching to the edge, thinking about it would only bring tremors to his veins. A rapid beat to his heart. A shortness of breath.

It was a ruined future.

Oddly enough, despite that thought, Jeongin smiled to himself. He smiled as he watched Chan slam the bonnet of the car and the king rested hazardously against it, he smiled as he hopped up to sit on the hood next to that crumbling throne, he smiled as the other saw him and only him for that brief moment. There was always something strange about that look in Chan's eyes. It had always been challenging, an enigma of a call, a fire begging for freedom behind iron cells and cage doors. It had always been wistful, wanting another fire to ignite, maybe a spark like the combustion of his car's engine strong enough to give them both a purpose. A bet, and a promise, a gamble, those had all hidden behind his eyes.

But a sadness lurked there too. For what reason, for what purpose, no one would know. Jeongin wasn't much better about it either. It hadn't been that long ago, he was wishing to vanish, and at times it would be impossible to say those thoughts didn't pillage the innocent corners of his mind. As he leaned against the older, feeling the warm seeping his shoulder, he was sure there was more both of them had to uncover.

"There's patrols driving around this stretch of the city more frequently. It wouldn't surprise me if they were trying to scope the area out," Changbin set a spanner down on the table, nearly clocking Minho's finger as he did so. Similarly to the way the latter had done to Jeongin before. He turned back to his childhood friend, a pensiveness to his demeanor as he brought up the dreaded question, "When are you leaving?"

"In the morning, I'll go in the morning," Chan told. Next to him, Jeongin felt the way his shoulders tensed at the question. Although he easily brushed off his own advances searching for the answer to that simple question, 'Are you afraid?', he never was given a proper response. Not even an excuse of one. Thinking back on it, the other managed to completely dodge the question by bumping it towards the crew. But if the stiffness said anything, his rigidness, the spacing for thoughts letting him escape this reality, the answer became clear.

With a slight curiousness, Jeongin observed the older. He watched the way the older's jaw tensed, how his lips opened and closed as if he were trying to find the easiest escape for difficult words. As if he dreaded to say them, refused to admit that he was force to say them, whatever it might be that was sitting on the edge of the tongue.

Of the hundreds of words he chose, of the thousands upon millions of word combinations that were possible to be chosen, the king refused all of them. Instead, his face confronted an unforeseeable future tunneling down in them and Chan uttered a simple, "Thank you, for these last four years."

I think, Jeongin's eyes narrowed at he stared down the older.

This is the first time I've heard him say that.

The other crew members simply blinked at him. Most likely, it was rare that they heard it from him outside of personal favors and sardonic responses to teasing blights. Most likely, it was rare to hear that string of words stained red with their fate said around the shop, and in their lives. How many times were they thanked? And for what? Despite deserving the recognition, how many times did any of the crew members hear something so simple? Thank you's, apologies, even the 'I'm proud of you's and 'I love you's. As far as Jeongin himself could recall, he had scarcely heard that around his own house, and even when it was said, it was never directed at him.

At the table, Changbin promptly broke any sort of acknowledgement one could give towards the statement. He waved it off, "Stop with the sentimentals. We all know it would happen at some point. It doesn't matter how long the Yangs delayed it, with how often you're adding to your collection of felonies for us, they'll catch up to you and they did. Get out of the city. Doesn't matter where you go, but you need to leave before they shut down the freeways."

"We'll probably have to lay low as well," Minho sighed heavily, true thoughts that ran through his mind as he said such; Forever unknown. Forever lost to time. His fingers rapped at the wooden surface he sat at, "If it's Chan they're after, as soon as they can get their hands on us it's over."

"So, that's it? It ends here?" For the first time that night, Jisung spoke up from his seat at the wall of the shop as his head fell, glazed eyes barely peaking out from behind the mop of navy curtain concealing his true emotions. In his lap, his fists clenched, fingers tightening and flexing, as if he came to the realization they weren't quite his own. They were never his to begin with. He scoffed lightly, the unsure question tumbling to finish an incomplete thought filling their emptiness, a mourning for figures lost to time and broken of heartache filling his voice, "We all go our separate ways?"

"We can stick around the shop once the heat dies down, it's only Chan we have to say goodbye to," Hyunjin reassured, and despite the semi-comforting words, he refused to look at Jisung. His gaze fell down, remaining trained on his muddied shoe laces he neglected to clean, for reasons unknown to his company. Hyunjin briefly peaked up at Chan, as if to ask for a confirmation, "But he'll be back too, eventually."

The older nodded a swift agreement, still preferring the methodology of body language over using communicative verbal words, those same words that locked in his throat. And Jeongin, as usual, observed him carefully throughout the ordeal. From the beginning to the end, he simply tried to note every inch he could, tried to imprint it all in his memories in case he should ever begin to let it slip from his grip. He sketched the image in his mind; The cool composure, the muted tenseness that hid every sanguine feeling he refused to show, those words choking the older until a swift unconsciousness of his logic occurred. He watched it all, and ultimately, new all he could do was try to offer a steady base. Despite, him struggling with it himself.

Unaware to the battle, Hyunjin jeered, "See? No worries, you dunce."

"It's tough not to worry, he'll be vanished for a few months at least," Jisung countered. That was another harsh reality they were forced to accept in that one instance, despite avoiding any sort of mentioning of it for as long as they could imagine. This was not an issue that would resolve over night, paired with the unethical method they were choosing to escape this fate with, it only made that reality grow more evident. As an afterthought, less of a comment to anyone but himself, Jisung muttered, "We'll need to wipe our phones clean of you too."

"Few months," Jeongin repeated to himself. Slowly, he could begin to feel his leg bounce, every separate stroke bringing him closer and farther away from the cement flooring of the shop. His tongue pressed against the back of his teeth as he finally took the chance to glance away from Chan, staring off at reminiscent moments blinking in the other corners of the shop. Soon, he was sure it would feel empty. The high-rise would sit vacant, until another rich monarch came along and bought it to stare down at all those below him. He tugged at a lose hangnail, concluding, "It's going to be weird without you."

"You're right, it's going to be weird for you with Chan gone," Minho agreed in place of the usual substitute cupid, the latter if the two still devolved into his own bubble of portentous glumness that spread to his general area. It infected the surroundings, corroding the surfaces it could reach, taking any action it could to leave blights on his mind. Luckily the other crew members were, not able to ignore it, but acknowledge it enough to where they didn't need to know.

"That is a good question," Hyunjin offered up, "What about Jeongin?"

For this one instance, Chan managed to dislodge the lexicon trying to jam itself both in and out of his vocal chords and not being able to decide which it truly wanted. To be free or not to be, that is what it was caught on. He collected himself enough to straighten up, grab Jeongin's hand to prevent him from the hangnail tearing and quip, both a treasing leer and serious undertone balancing an equilibrium in his chest. His cheek bumped against the back of the younger's head, voice dipping into something low as he mumbled, "Doesn't matter where I am in this country, if I even hear a rumor you're struggling, I'm finding you. Take care of yourself."

"Tempting not to," Jeongin let his lips turn up into a teasing grimace, "Now I know how to see you whenever I'm missing you."

The older let out a light laugh as he pulled back to his original spot, refocusing on the task at hand as Jeongin tried to resettle next to him. That closeness filled him with a warmth, it always had. It reminded him that even someone like him, someone who was told he was nothing more than a waste could be touched as delicately as a treasured artifact. That warmth, he tried to imprint it in his mind before it escaped his enclosed system to the air around them. He tried to remember it for a few seconds longer, tried to force it's duration, so he could never forget it when he was deprived of that warmth.

Jisung's head suddenly shot up, the flood of a raincloud hanging over him disappearing as quickly as he had decided to acknowledge the other presences in the room. He concluded firmly as he glared down the other crew members, "We should celebrate. It's going to be the last time we're all in one spot, for a long time."

"I'm down for that," Minho slammed his hands down on the table before turning quickly towards Changbin for a confirmation, the latter of the two nodding a reluctant 'Okay' to their plans.

"Sinners," Hyunjin smirked idly.

"We're the good for nothing sinning, bastard children from hell," Jisung reiterated more of an agreement as he shoved himself off the floor, slapped down any possible dust that collected on his clothes, and stalked towards the shop table. He grabbed Minho's hands, yanking him up out of his seat as he hauled the other along with the other crew members shortly in tow. With the exception of a certain two. He kicked them along, his previous woes forgotten to the past as he commanded, "Get your lazy ass up and get walking to the nearest corner store. I want five bottles to drown our regrets, ten spray cans, a bag of gummy bears..."

Jeongin and Chan watched the crew be promptly evacuated from the shop, a reluctance to their eyes trailing as they knew eventually they would have to join them as well. Or else, the Shepard boy with navy hair and a short temper would be back to herd them for his own entertainment. In contempt of that fact, neither of them chose to move from their spot against the hood of the car. At any time, either of them could have gotten up and chased after the other crew, yet as their voices drowned out against the canvas of the night, neither of them chose to move. They could sense it; That underlying feeling that among the coming conclusion, there was still words left to say. Actions left to do. Between them, there was too much to suddenly pick up and leave, although they had to.

"This is really it?" Jeongin started despite himself. He hesitated, fingers coming to dig into his own thighs as he added, "Just when we're starting to figure everything out?"

"Already solved a lot. There's more but.." Chan trailed off his sentence, eyes drifting away from the younger as he disappeared again to his thoughts. After a few beats, he pressed off the hood and offered a hand to Jeongin, a familiar and silly gesture from weeks and weeks prior barely peaking itself out in recognition of the playful indication, "It's just us tonight.

What should we do from here?"

✘