Chapter Text
Most of the time, when liquid was dumped over Hyunjin’s head, it was typically all in good fun. To, say, sober him up or wash remnants of bad decisions away.
Tonight was no different, and the cup of beer poured over his head was done in a fun-loving way that had Hyunjin’s hair drenched, clinging to his face and splashing his shoulders, making the muscular joints glisten under the strobing lights.
Hyunjin shook his head to get the excess beer out of his hair and laughed as he sprayed the surrounding people, shoving the random guy behind him who had been the launcher of the beer. The guy went teetering backwards, but he was laughing as he clumsily stumbled off, just managing to keep himself upright in his drunken state.
Hyunjin’s hand came up and pushed his wine red hair off his forehead before blowing a hard line of smoke from his lungs, his cigarette hanging from his lips and miraculously remaining untouched by the previous beer attack.
“Fuck this,” he swore, his voice slurring slightly, before picking up a ping pong ball and bouncing it off the table before him, landing the orange thing in the last remaining red cup at the end.
The group of people he barely knew around him went into an uproar of cheers as the cup was passed over to him, he took out his cigarette and tipped his head back to down the entire thing in one go. The taste wasn’t pleasant, but it went down without a problem, just like the others he had lost count of. Some of it spilled over the edges of his mouth and down the front of the muscle tee he was wearing, but no matter. It all comes out in the wash anyway.
The bass of the music thudded through the entire house, the abandoned cups surrounding the massive speakers - some guys from a neighbouring frat had brought them - shaking with the volume and boosted bass of some mind-numbing song no one knew but everyone liked.
“Hyunjin!” a familiar voice yelled over the screaming and music, making Hyunjin straighten up and look around like some kind of hammered meerkat.
His sights eventually landed on the blond tufts of Chan’s hair, the platinum stands reflecting the flashing lights around them as the older beckoned him forwards.
“Excuse et moi,” Hyunjin said in depressing French to the people around him, patting a few shoulders as he pushed through the throng of people to get to Chan, his cigarette back in his mouth. When he finally reached the blond, he found he was already being glared at.
“ What? ” Hyunjin demanded, looking down and over himself as if trying to figure out what Chan was disapproving of this time.
“You reek,” Chan commented, arms crossed.
“Well, beer was just dumped over my head,” Hyunjin defended. “Not a choice.”
Chan raised an eyebrow with a sigh before steering the taller over to the couch where a few others sat, squashed together.
One of their hands reached out - Hyunjin didn’t quite catch who’s - and grabbed him around the wrist, pulling him down to sit in the middle of the couch, the worst place to sit, in Hyunjin’s humble opinion. It was where the two cushions met, and it always resulted in one or both halves of your ass sliding down and hitting the hard frame of the couch.
“You’re sticky,” Seungmin commented when Hyunjin sat down beside him.
“I’m aware,” Hyunjin responded, taking an inhale of his cigarette.
“You’re gonna die at 30 if you keep smoking these things,” Chan said, reaching over and plucking the cigarette from between Hyunjin’s lips and dropping it to the floor, stomping it out.
“Gee, thanks,” Hyunjin grumbled, watching forlornly at the smouldering ashes of what could have once been. “That was mine, but do whatever.”
“Stop sulking and pay attention to us,” Changbin sighed, draping his arm over Hyunjin’s shoulders before quickly changing his mind and taking it back. “Wow, you are sticky.”
“I did mention it,” Seungmin said to the silvery-blue haired man.
“Chan, pass me that,” Hyunjin said dramatically, gesturing to a random cup sitting on the couch armrest.
“That’s so gross,” Chan groaned, but passed it over to Hyunjinn, who gave it a smell to make sure it wasn’t poison before knocking it back in one go.
“God, that tastes like someone pissed in it,” Hyunjin groaned, throwing the cup away, only for it to be crushed by the horde’s feet.
Changbin giggled like a creaking door beside him, almost spilling his own drink. “Oh, God, I just remembered I have an assignment due tomorrow morning.”
“Then go do it?” Chan said, taking a mouthful of his drink.
“Nah,” Changbin said, sliding down his seat, still giggling.
“You’re gonna fail that class, you know,” Hyunjin laughed.
“And I shall do so with flying colours,” Changbin responded, when had Hyunjin laughing so hard his eyes started watering.
It wasn’t even that funny.
It was probably just the alcohol talking.
“How’s that guy, by the way?” Seungmin asked once Changbin and Hyunjin had stopped giggling like mad men.
Hyunjin blinked watery eyes at him. “Who?”
“That guy you saw the other night, god, what was his name?” Seungmin said, scratching his dark hair as he closed one eye in an attempt to recall. “Juwon, was it?”
Hyunjin snorted, rolling his eyes. “That guy? I’d rather not talk about him.”
“What, was he bad?” Chan asked.
Hyunjin leaned into Changbin’s side, giggling. “Like you wouldn’t believe .”
“Oh god,” Changbin sighed. “What did he do?”
“When he moaned,” Hyunjin said, trying to keep his face straight. “He sounded like a squeaky toy,” Hyunjin’s voice heaved off into heavy breaths of laughter just after he finished talking. “An- and he tried so hard but it was just so bad .”
“Brutal,” Chan hummed, grunting under his breath when someone bumped into him.
“Have you ever had a good hook up?” Seungmin asked.
Hyunjin shrugged. “There has been the occasional diamond in the rough.”
“So why don’t you just stick around with them?”
“Because he’s scared of feelings,” a voice said from the left, and Hyunjin looked up only to grimace.
“Oh, fuck off, Minjun,” Hyunjin huffed, tipping his head back and hitting it against the couch backrest.
“No harm, no harm,” Minjun snickered. “We’re all brothers, let’s act like it.”
“We don’t care if you’re a frat brother, we don’t like you,” Changbin said.
“Cold,” Seungmin nodded. “But true.”
“Charming as always, you four,” Hakkun sighed from beside Minjun. “Hyunjin, I’m surprised you’ve made it this long.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Hyunjin demanded, glaring up at the shorter of the two boys harassing them.
“It means you’d usually be getting laid by now,” Minjun shrugged, pushing back his dyed orange hair.
“Wow, means a lot to hear you say that,” Hyunjin grumbled, reaching over and taking Seungmin’s drink for himself.
“Rude,” Seungmin mumbled.
“But I’m being social in other ways.” Hyunjin smiled tightly. “And unfortunately I don’t care if you dislike the fact I get laid.”
“Maybe they’re jealous,” Changbin snickered, the pastel-blue haired man chuckling at his own joke.
“I’m not jealous of commitment issues,” Minjun said, crossing his arms.
Hyunjin tipped back his head and finished Seungmin’s drink. “You can fuck off now.”
“Hey, man, we’re just trying to bond with some fellow frat brothers, no harm done,” Hakkun said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You sure are a jackass when you’re drunk, though.”
“No, I’m usually very nice,” Hyunjin snapped at him. “I just don’t like you .”
Minjun dipped his head as the two began backing off. “At least you’ve got a pretty face,” he commented under his breath.
“‘Bout all he’s got, the dumb asshole,” Hakkun mumbled, which made Chan stand up abruptly.
Hyunjin felt like everything in him deflated. He didn’t let it physically show on his face, but a nerve was just struck.
“Alright, that’s enough. Beat it, cunts,” Chan snapped at the two, which effectively got them to scamper off into the writhing crowd.
“Ouch, Chan out here with the bite ,” Changbin commented.
“Those guys are assholes,” Chan sighed as he sat back down, lacing his fingers together. “Someone needs to put them in their place every once in a while.”
Hyunjin abruptly stood up. “I reckon I’m gonna turn in for the night.”
“So soon?” Seungmin asked, glancing down to check the face of his watch. “It’s barely 1:30.”
“Yeah, I’m tired,” Hyunjin said, feigning a yawn.
“Well, goodnight then,” Chan said with a nod, waving Hyunjin off.
Hyunjin nodded to them before shoving through the sweaty, dancing bodies of drunk young adults, the flashing lights and booming bass suddenly giving him a headache.
“Hey, Hyunjin. You okay?” a voice asked, but Hyunjin just shoved past whoever it was. It only registered that it was Minho when he saw the curling ends of purple hair he shoved past, but by then it was too late.
He would apologise tomorrow.
He climbed the stairs two and three at a time, kicking away abandoned red cups and shoving past making out couples as he climbed them.
When he opened the door to his room, he growled under his breath to find a girl in a red dress and a guy laying on his bed, grinding against each other and making breathy moaning sounds.
Pathetic, clothes aren’t even off, Hyunjin thought to himself before he cleared his throat abruptly.
“Get the fuck out,” Hyunjin snapped, stepping to the side so the doorway was free.
The two looked up at him in shock before practically tripping over each other to scramble out of the room. Hyunjin slammed the door with gusto behind them, the blue tac holding the bottom of his Chicago Bulls poster becoming unstuck in the process and making the poster flutter up before slowly sinking back to touch the door again.
The music was slightly quieter now, muffled by the walls and his door, which he locked.
Hyunjin pulled a cigarette from the open pack on his dresser and flicked open his lighter, lighting the end of the cigarette as he moved out to the balcony. Chan didn’t like it when people smoked upstairs because it stank out every room on that side of the house, so one of the first rules he had decided on when he became the fraternity president was if you want to smoke in your room, do it on the balcony.
So Hyunjin pocketed his lighter and stepped out onto his balcony, shutting the glass doors behind him.
He took a deep inhale of the fresh cigarette and let the smoke out with a deep sigh, the smoke trailing up and away in the slight night breeze, mixing with the music behind him and the stars twinkling above.
──·☽𖥸☾·──
Minho resisted from smacking his forehead down on his computer keyboard. His lights were off and the small lamp on his desk was the only thing lighting his bad posture and misery.
It wasn’t like these photos were bad , per se, but they just weren’t right .
The bass of the music was booming behind his bedroom door and god, he wanted to go join the party, but he couldn’t until this stupid editing was done.
He stared at the tree and bench that sat on his laptop screen. He flicked to the next one which was just a tree. The next was a pond, the next a field.
He groaned.
Boring, boring, boring, boring. It was all boring .
There wasn’t a single photo he had taken for this assignment that really spoke to him. It was all sameish and it felt like watching paint dry as he edited colours and sharpened tiny blurs.
He pushed his hair back. It had been getting too long lately, it was starting to brush the tops of his shoulders and hang low into his eyes. He needed to cut the purple mop soon, or that would be just one other thing that annoyed him on a day to day basis.
He would get around to it. Maybe he would get Chan to cut it for him.
Minho jumped when the door to his room swung open aggressively and in staggered a girl in a red dress and guy right behind her, basically devouring her face.
Minho shook his head before speaking up. “Nope, not in here! Get out!”
The two looked a little shocked to see Minho there, but quickly apologised and hurried out, shutting the door behind him.
“Fucking idiots,” Minho muttered under his breath as he turned back to his laptop. He really needed to start locking his doors when parties were going on.
He needed a drink so bad.
Minho sighed, leaning back in his chair as his stupid mouse started to lag. He managed to get it up to the top for the drop down, and found his laptop was about to die. He panicked for a moment before he pulled the white charger over, effectively knocking over a pot of pens and pushing some sticky notes off his desk, and plugged in his laptop.
He took this as a sign it was time to stop. The photos were looking fine anyway, no amount of editing could ever make them interesting, so Minho just shut his laptop.
He stood up with a groan and cracked his back with a yawn. He had been sitting for too long.
Tucking his chair in, Minho rolled his neck before starting towards the door. He opened it to face the thumping base of the music, and he could see the writhing body of people below from his door, but his feet stopped just before stepping over the threshold.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, stepping back inside and shutting the door.
He hurried back over to this desk and picked up the pens and sticky notes that had been rather unceremoniously dumped off the desktop. He stood the pencil pot back up in its spot before flipping all the pens in his hand up the right way, then placed them back in their pot. He realigned the sticky notes, including the ones that had been nudged but not toppled to the floor, and stood up to check it from above. He nodded at the rainbow line of pink, orange, yellow, green and finally blue sticky notes, quickly adjusting the blue one. He used his knee to push in his chair, straightened out his laptop and readjusted the lamp. He quickly smoothed the charger cable out before giving the desk another once over. He nodded in satisfaction before clicking off his lamp and making his way back to the door.
He slipped through, sure to lock it as he went, and took a deep breath of the hair that smelt of beer and sweat. Home, sweet home.
He wandered down the stairs, greeting people as he went. He felt much better now, knowing there wasn’t a mess in his room.
It wasn’t like he needed everything to be neat and tidy and perfectly lined up, he just preferred to have his things organised. And being tidy meant there was no jobs to get back to in his room when he finally had enough of the party.
Then in the morning, he would join Chan in making the house spotless and clean, try to force Changbin to help, berate Seungmin for just sitting there and not helping, and remind Hyunjin that no, being hungover is not an excuse to be lazy. He was usually hung over himself when he cleaned the house, but that was always just a motivator to get it done sooner. When you’re done, you get panadol. That was his mantra.
Minho made it to the bottom of the stairs and looked around over the sea of bodies in an attempt to find his friends. He finally managed to locate them, sitting on their couch. He winced at the dark stain he could already see forming, but made his way over. He spotted Hyunjin walking towards him and raised a hand to greet him. “Hey, Hyunjin.” He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the sour expression on Hyunjin’s face. “You okay?”
Hyunjin just shoved past him, making Minho turn and watch him storm up the stairs, and Minho just shrugged.
He was probably drunk.
Which was exactly what Minho needed to be. He picked up the closest drink and knocked it back.
──·☽𖥸☾·──
The vibrating on Minho’s wrist awoke him in a way that was both kind and gentle and cruel and aggressive.
He groaned slightly as he forced his eyes open and closed his mouth, the dryness uncomfortable. The sun was barely up outside, just a few odd smatterings of purple and pink to signify the sunrise and Minho turned off his 5:30 am alarm.
He swung himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes with a groan. He sat there for a moment, letting his hair stay a mess as his feet hit the messy ground. His hands found the edge of the couch where he must have passed out and he blinked, looking around at the state of the living room. There were red cups strewn all about the floor, remnants of food and crumbs and spilled drinks were all over the floorboards and carpet, and there were items of clothes in odd places.
Minho had a headache, but forced himself to stand up, running a hand through his hair to straighten it out a little. He scanned the faces of the people around him. There weren’t too many, and most of them were his frat brothers. To those who weren’t, he gently nudged them until they stirred and he, for lack of a better term, kicked them out despite protests. He also managed to herd the other guys back to their rooms, where they passed back out.
Once the stragglers were gone and the house was ready to be cleaned, Minho climbed the stairs, grimacing at the state of the carpet, before knocking on Chan’s door. “Chan?” he whispered.
“Come in.”
Minho pushed the door open to find Chan already up and getting dressed.
“Morning.”
“How bad is it?” Chan asked, picking up a shirt and tugging it over his head.
Minho shrugged. “Not as bad as it has been. There were about five people left, and I got them out and most of the brothers back to their rooms.”
“Alright, thanks. Let’s go get this done with, then,” Chan said, following Minho out of his room.
For the next hour, Chan and Minho used the silence and quiet of dawn to clean. Vinegar mixtures were poured on drink stains on the carpet and couch, crumbs were swept up, sills were mopped up, cups were collected, and clothes were picked up and folded for when people eventually came back to pick them up.
“I don’t understand how people can be so messy,” Chan muttered as he picked up a stomped sandwich and put it in his rubbish bag.
“They just don’t care that we have to clean it later,” Minho responded as he vacuumed up the remaining crumbs.
“Why do we still throw these things?” Chan asked.
“They’re fun,” Minho answered, making Chan nod.
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“Dude, vacuums at 6 in the morning?” a voice from the stairs asked groggily.
“Put a pillow over your head,” Minho suggested.
Seungmin waved a hand. “I need some medicine.”
“It’s in your webster pack,” Minho said.
Seungmin rolled his eyes as he walked over to the kitchen, finding his webster stuck to the wall. “I still don’t believe you made us all webster packs and put them in alphabetical order.”
“Do you want the medicine or not?”
Seungmin didn’t respond as Minho continued to vacuum the carpet.
Gradually, people started trickling down the stairs, most from the frat, some not. They migrated to the kitchen and took panadol from their websters, having some form of breakfast and flopping down in the living room. A few, like Yunho and Niki, their youngest, did their parts in helping Chan and Minho straighten out the house.
“Alright, we’re gonna have to love you and leave you,” Chan sighed, patting Niki’s hair as he passed him once the house was as clean as they were going to get it.
“Where are you going?” Changbin asked from where he sat with a bowl of cereal on the couch.
“Basketball,” Minho said, following Chan towards the stairs. “Finish cleaning up, would you? Take out the rubbish.”
Changbin mumbled some form of response before they were completely out of earshot, but Minho didn’t bother trying to hear what he said.
“Will you-” Chan began as they reached the landing and Minho waved his hand.
“Already on it,” he said, trying to shove open Hyunjin’s door.
All the doors looked the same, thick wooden things painted an off white, but they had been granted permission to have name tags on them so things wouldn’t be mixed up.
Minho grunted when he found the door was locked. “Chan, key.”
Chan was already throwing the necklace with the master key to the house at him as he entered his own room.
Sliding in the key and twisting, Minho opened Hyunjin’s door to find it depressingly dark inside. He marched across the room and yanked Hyunjin’s curtains open. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!”
Hyunjin made an awkward squawk from his bed before the telltale thud of the tall boy falling out of his bed sounded. “So cruel,” he said feebly from the floor.
“Yep, that’s me, get up,” Minho said, pulling open Hyunjin’s drawers. “God, is it impossible for you to organise your clothes into separate drawers?”
“I can dress myself, you know,” Hyunjin groaned as he sat up, a tangle of sheets.
“Yeah, well, we need to be out the door in the next 10 minutes and you’re clearly hung over, which Coach will not appreciate, so I’m trying to help,” Minho responded, throwing Hyunjin’s training uniform in his bag that had his shoes, water bottle and joint tape for emergencies. “Get up.”
Hyunjin nodded, waving a hand as he stood up, catching the shirt Minho threw at him and quickly changing it.
“Alright, let’s go,” Minho said, throwing the bag in Hyunjin’s direction and walking out the door in time to catch his own bag that Chan dropped into his hand.
The three thundered down the stairs, waving to the others as they slipped on their slides and left for the gym.
Hyunjin rubbed his eyes with a yawn as the three walked through the large campus.
“Did you even wash the beer out of your hair last night?” Chan asked as they walked the long path that stretched away from the line of frat houses and into the grounds. Grass stayed neatly trimmed and tall trees had scattered the area longer than the buildings had been standing. The path widened the further they got to accommodate the usual flow of students, though it was barely a trickle at this time of day.
Hyunjin shrugged with a sniff. “Nah. I’ll shower after practice.”
Chan grumbled something that sounded like a protest but didn’t say anything.
The trio finally made it past the massive, almost gothic looking structures of the library and main halls, through a few hallways, and out towards the giant gym. Silverbridge University’s athletics complex consisted of the gym, the track that surrounded a massive oval used for outdoor sports like cricket and soccer, and the aquatic centre equipped with an olympic sized swimming pool and diving boards.
As Minho shouldered open the glass door to the gymnasium, the smell of rubber hit them. They hurried forward past the massive trophy display cases and through another set of swinging doors onto the actual court. The gymnasium had two courts that could be spaces for basketball, volleyball or netball with bleachers that folded out to cover one of those courts and create a mini arena. Down the far end of the gym were two doors, one leading to change rooms and the other leading to a new, large extension room of weights and fitness equipment open to anyone to use.
The smacking sound of basketballs hitting the polished wooden floors entered their ears as they saw three others on their team already warming up.
“ You three go get changed and start warming up! ” A voice boomed from the side of the room.
“Yes, Coach!” the three called back, hurrying towards the change rooms.
“ RUN! ” he bellowed, and the three quickly bolted.
They changed quickly and got on their shoes before running towards the built in shed to grab a ball each.
Coach Bongwa stood at the side lines, watching the six warm up. He was an older guy with greying hair and a stern expression, though it could melt into comforting expressions when he needed them.
“What were you three doing last night?” the tall blond asked.
“We had a party,” Minho explained, dribbling his ball a few times.
“No wonder you look like shit,” he snickered, landing a basket.
“Johnny,” Taemin said, his voice sounding a little like a warning.
“Sorry.”
“You’d better just get your shit together or Coach’ll beat your asses,” the black-haired man said as he sank a lay-up.
“Great, extra suicide runs,” Hyunjin said sarcastically. “Thanks for the encouragement, Bam.”
Bambam shrugged. “Just saying, be prepared.”
“Well, Hoshi and Jaehyun aren’t here yet, so hopefully they’ll get the shit for being late,” Minho said, taking a step back behind the three point line before shooting his ball. He tutted when the ball hit the ring and bounced in.
“Why do you have to beat yourself up about that, Min,” Bambam asked, catching the rebound for him before throwing it back to him.
Minho made a face as he caught it and shuffled back into position. “It hit the rim.”
“Oh, good heavens, you’ll be kicked from the team,” Johnny said sarcastically.
“Everyone needs a warm up shot, give me a minute,” Minho snapped at him, realigning his shot.
“Such a perfectionist,” Taemin sighed, shaking his head.
Minho rolled his eyes and threw the ball at the hoop again. This time, the ball swished through the ring, barely even touching the net. “And buckets,” Minho said, shuffling his hands together as if brushing off dust.
The doors slammed open as Hoshi and Jaehyun burst through them, already in their training gear and sweating like they had run there.
“You two!” Bongwa yelled, pointing at them. “You’re late!”
“Sorry, Coach,” Hoshi huffed, dropping his bag down by the sidelines.
“And you wore your shoes outside?! ” Bongwa hollered.
The other six on the court winced when they looked down and found that yes, Hoshi and Jaehyun had indeed worn their court shoes to training.
Minho rubbed his eyes, knowing what this would mean.
“Alright!” Bongwa yelled, blowing his whistle. “Ten suicides, the lot of you! Go!”
“Oh, fuck me dead,” Chan groaned in English, his Australian accent thick and frustrated.
“Come on, ladies!” Bongwa roared. “Let’s. Get. Going!”
──·☽𖥸☾·──
Unlike basketball trainings, basketball games were a school-wide event. Every other person on campus would try to pack into the gym during home games, and those who didn’t get seats would watch the game live through the university’s website.
The entire school and beyond knew about the reputation of Silverbridge University’s basketball team, the Silverback Gators, who held two Championship titles over the past three years.
Not only were the games fast paced and exciting, the crowd egged on by the talented cheer squad, and not only could they get violently competitive, but the basketball team housed the schools closest thing to a bag of eye-candy it would ever get. The line up consisted of players who were renowned for individual talents that made them popular amongst the crowd for various reasons.
Number 03, Bang Chan; as the host of most fraternity parties, Chan was automatically popular, not to mention he was Australian and had an accent to his Korean that had people screaming.
Number 11, Kwon Hoshi; he was the oldest member of the team and was known to speak three languages, making him pretty popular with the ladies on campus.
Number 25, Lee Minho; he could sink flawless 3-pointers from over a metre behind the three-point line.
Number 37, Jeong Jaehyun; being born on Valentine’s Day was enough to accidentally convince people he was terribly romantic.
Number 42, Bambam; similar to Chan, he was from Thailand, which gave him an air of exotic mystery about him, regardless of the fact there wasn’t any.
Number 69, Suh Johnny; wildly inappropriate, relatively obvious by his jersey number, which made him a favourite through his humour.
Number 79, Lee Taemin; the maknae of the basketball team bought him fans almost the second he stepped onto the court.
And of course, number 04, Hwang Hyunjin, an all-time crowd favourite and Team Captain.
Hyunjin had been sure never to drink before basketball games. He was their MVP and proud of it, so he was always sure to stay in his best shape before a game.
A flawless lay-up with an assist from Chan had the crowd going up in cheers, the cheer squad at the end of the court shaking their pom-poms wildly.
The score was currently 24-88, so the Silverback Gators were mostly just having fun at this point. Trying out new shots and strategies, showing off a little.
Well, a ‘little’ was probably an understatement. Hyunjin had been more absorbed with flirting with the crowd than the actual game, which he had convinced himself early in the second quarter that he could play with his eyes closed. But who could blame him? The crowd loved it, and putting on the charm that made him so popular was easy to do.
So why not do it? Why not have a little fun? And who knew? Maybe he would get laid after this.
Hyunjin scoffed to himself as he jumped to intercept a sad excuse of a pass and drove back to the basket, scoring a reverse lay-up with practiced east.
Of course he was getting laid.
──·☽𖥸☾·──
“If your face says one more word,” Jisung threated as he swung open his dorm room door, “I will chop off your tongue.”
“Hey,” Jeongin responded, hands up in mock surrender, huffing his middle-parted black hair out of his eyes. “I never said it was your fault Jihoon missed the lift, but I’m just saying that you need to watch your feet! You almost killed me! Like a little bug!” He demonstrated by stamping his foot on the floor. “Skwoosh!”
Jisung scoffed, setting his bag down on his bed as he started packing his small backpack. “Okay, sure. But maybe it was your fault that you were in my way.”
Jeongin flopped back against his bed with a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me again .”
“It’s not like I don’t want to spend a riveting night watching anime with you,” Jisung sighed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, already prepared to leave again, “but Naruto doesn’t pay the bills. Work does.”
Jeongin sighed again, dramatically pulling his laptop over to him. “Fine! Go earn money or whatever, I don’t care. I’ll just keep watching One Piece all by my lonesome.”
“You’ll never catch up to me, you know,” Jisung said, picking up his keys and stuffing them in his denim jacket’s pocket.
“Fuck you!” Jeongin called after him as Jisung closed the door behind him.
He sighed slightly as he clomped down the hallway, his black lace-up boots making more noise than he probably would have liked.
It didn’t take him long to get downstairs and off campus, hail a bus, and be on his merry way.
The bus-ride took a solid 20 minutes, so Jisung plugged in his headphones under his fluffy brown hair that had started to tickle the base of his neck.
He watched the city go past outside, the lights casting shadows of pinks and greens and reds and blues as he passed them. He tapped along to the music streaming from his headphones, his latest project. It wasn’t perfect and had a few kinks he still needed to iron out, but it was coming along rather nicely so far. He grimaced at the high notes he was still trying to hit properly and had put in a stand in track for that section. He really needed to fix that.
It wasn’t like he wanted music to be his life, though. Music was a hobby and he was working on a degree in economics just because he would have been kicked out of his family if he had refused to go to university. But he was only going to do that for as long as he needed to. He would make his dreams reality before he actually had to go out into the world and actually do anything with his degree. If he had to do that, he would probably fall over and never move again, because how fucking boring .
It was dark by the time he got off the bus; it always was when he went to work.
He took the side door in, which led backstage and into the dressing rooms, away from the loud music.
He slumped down in his chair before his mirror, putting his bag down. He looked at himself in the mirror for a long while before sighing and pulled off his jacket, careful not to knock any of the pins off, pulling out his change of work clothes. The dressing room had about 5 or 6 other workers in it, either on break or just touching up makeup.
“Hey, Han,” a voice came from behind him just as Jisung pulled his shirt over his head. He turned and flashed a half-smile.
“Hey, Dino,” he greeted, folding up his shirt and toeing off his boots. “Crowded tonight?”
“Nah, not really,” Dino said with a yawn. “A few randos, but it’s a weeknight.”
Jisung nodded as he changed his jeans for tight leather pants and put his boots back on. “Well, as can be expected.”
Dino nodded, sitting down at his vanity to take off his earrings as Jisung started doing up the belt-like collar around his neck. “Yeah, but you should do fine. All the regulars are here, so…”
Jisung hummed, leaning over and taking some dark eyeshadow from Dino’s table. He messily smeared some on, partially because it was for the look, but mostly because he just didn’t care. He did the same with a dark red lipstick, but let the edges smudge a little. He grunted, annoyed, as he moved the chain attached to the collar over his shoulder. He kicked Dino’s chair leg. “Glitter me.”
Dino clambered around his table for a minute before picking up the bottle of spray on glitter and giving Jisung a spray, head to toe, as he spun around.
“Thank you,” Jisung said before tugging on the tiny black waistcoat over his shoulders. “Looking good?”
“Looking good,” Dino nodded. “Go on.”
Jisung waved him goodbye before making himself known to his boss, who gave him the thumbs up.
Jisung wouldn’t necessarily say he was proud of his work, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. He did what he could with the talents he had, and if that meant pole dancing in a gay strip club, then that was what he would do. It didn’t pay brilliantly, and a lot of the time it was men in their mid to late 40s that he performed for, but the exercise was great, he was more flexible than he ever thought he could be, he got to wear fun outfits, and at least he was on stage . That’s what he told himself.
He wanted so badly to be seen. He wanted the world to know who he was. He wanted his face to be all over billboards and magazines and be on the screens in Times Square and the studios of famed photographers.
He wanted to be seen.
But not like this. Not some faceless stripper with some nice abs with glitter on them.
But still he came anyway, still got up on the pole every other evening, still danced for strangers. It got him money, it got him exercise, and he was still, technically, out there.
Or, his ass was.
──·☽𖥸☾·──
The sky was a clear blue hue with only a few clouds dotting it. The trees rustled pleasantly and cast a welcome shade upon the group sitting on the picnic bench below its branches.
“If I were a dinosaur,” Changbin mused, head hung back to stare up at the sky through the leaves of the tree, “I would be a stegosaurus.”
“Why,” Minho asked.
“Because stegosauruses-”
“No, why do you think we care what kind of dinosaur you would be?”
Hyunjin snickered under his breath, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “Brutal.”
“Aren’t you meant to be at a lecture?” Chan asked, poking Hyunjin’s shoulder from where he sat behind him on the actual table top.
Hyunjin shrugged casually, tapping his cigarette to make the burnt away end fall to the ground. “Yeah, but who cares? Art’s impossible to fail.”
“Okay, that’s not exactly true…” Seungmin said behind him, chewing on the end of a strawberry. “Art can actually be pretty tough if you don’t understand the theory side-”
“Seungmin, with all due respect, shut the fuck up,” Hyunjin smiled.
Seungmin ducked his head in a nod. “Yes sir.”
Hyunjin sighed, leaning back against Chan’s legs as Chan picked a leaf out of Hyunjin’s wine-coloured hair. Hyunjin raised his cigarette back to his lips as his dark eyes glanced up to look around the grounds, flooded with a light sprinkling of students.
He suddenly choked on the smoke and coughed violently, leaning forward to try and fix it.
“Good,” Chan said behind him. “Those things kill you.”
“No,” Hyunjin said, smacking Chan’s knee. He nodded forward. “ Look. ”
Not too far away, walking along one of the light beige paths in the direction of the library, was what Hyunjin could only describe as God’s only true gift to this earth.
He was short of stature and petite, ripped baggy jeans hung off his hips, a dark red flannel sat on his arms over a tight black singlet, and he carried a beige tote bag over his shoulder. Honey blond hair fell in layered waves around his face and brushed the tops of his shoulders, and even though he was several metres away, he was stunning.
“Who is he?” Hyunjin demanded. “And why haven’t I seen him before?”
Changbin leaned off his seat to try and see better. “No idea. Never seen him before.”
Seungmin squinted at the guy, tilting his head. “Oh, wait a minute. I think I know who that is.”
Hyunjin smacked Seungmin’s thigh just above the knee. “Tell me.”
“Um, ow,” Seungmin said, but rolled his eyes. “But I’m pretty sure his name’s Felix. He’s doing English Literature, I think, and just moved over here from Australia.”
“Australians all let us rejoice,” Chan sang. “Finally, a fellow island man.”
Hyunjin dropped his cigarette in the dirt and stomped it out, popping a stick of gum in his mouth from his pocket. “Felix, huh?”
“Uh oh,” Changbin snickered, running a hand through his powder blue hair. “Hyunjin’s got his eyes on someone.”
“Shut up,” Hyunjin snapped, though his eyes never left this ‘Felix’ guy walking towards the campus 5 storey library, even as he stood up from the bench. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And where are you going?” Minho asked, watching as Hyunjin combed a hand through his hair.
“I,” Hyunjin said, “am going to turn on the charm.”
And just like that, Hyunjin was off towards the library, his friends watching him go.
“Poor Felix,” Changbin sighed, large arms crossed.
“You can say that again,” Chan agreed with a nod. “The poor boy doesn’t stand a chance.”