Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

⑤⑤ Full House

Forewarning: Brief mentions of suicide and self injury from the previous chapters.

"Jisung, do you have your phone? Mine died."

Jeongin nodded off in the corner of the shop. His chin balanced on top of his knee, other dangling off the end of the car's trunk. Some random person's car. He let his heel thunk against the tough metal, letting his leg rebound towards the air before letting the pendulum swing of the hammer he mimiced fell to repeat the cycle. Whether consciously or subconsciously, Jeongin found himself drifting to the outskirts of the shop, subtly trying to veer from the crew members sitting on tense seats and stiff thumbs. He found himself wishing to spend less time there with them, and more time reclused in his own numbed out mind until the feeling in his fingers began to come back.

Something in the crew shifted.

It was evident in the way their eyes would flicker, and in the squared off postures that used to relax in comfortable settings. Fewer words became exchanged, comments that used to be joking becoming daggers to cut through their lifelines, uncomfortably waiting for someone to relieve the pressure weighing on their shoulders. Something shifted. It started after Chan temporarily kicked Jeongin from the shop, and somewhere along the way was nurtured till the divides grew greater between people they trusted their lives with. It seemed like now, simple favors became arguments, and Jeongin was left to cover his ears or try to block out their disputes growing louder and louder.

"Yeah, sure," Jisung answered as dug in his pockets, trying to find what Changbin asked for but only pulling out a felt-tip pen and a silver lighter Jeongin had seen once before, a long time ago. The first time he met Jisung, the younger was shoving the ornate engraved metal in his jacket pockets. Now, he was shoving it on the table top to clear his hands of the weight he brought with him.

Sitting at the table beside him, Hyunjin plucked the object off the surface. He balanced it carefully in his palm, testing the weight of it as Jisung concentrated solely on removing all items from his pockets until he was able to find the requested phone. Hyunjin scoffed as he fiddled with the flint wheel, the gentle click click click with no company of the flame resonated in his area. When he was finally able to get it to ignite, he asked, "Why are you carrying Chan's old lighter around? You don't use this for anything."

"Oh. Yeah," Jisung commented quietly as he scanned over the other, before returning to his pocket searching, "Can I have it back?"

The street racer didn't respond. He kept igniting the lighter, the gentle click click click continuing to resonate and bore an insanity into their heads. He let the agitation fester, and like the lighter, prompted it to ignite under the heat. 

Jisung turned to face him. His tone began to grow more urgent, "Hyunjin. Can I have my lighter back?"

Still, unresponsive. His eyes trained on the flame. Jisung tried to reach for his lighter.

Hyunjin jerked away, "Don't touch me."

Jisung huffed with a slight irritation and tried to grab it again.

"I said don't touch me. Your repulsive little rat hands are getting street filth everywhere," Hyunjin smacked his hand away, "This is why your parents didn't want to breathe the same air as you."

The screeching of chair's legs replaced that incessant clicking as the small metal lighter rattled to the concrete floors. Jisung's nails dug into Hyunjin's throat, his own wrists being clawed violently by the one he was constricting around. The latter shot kicks to his attacker's gut, with no avail. Like the vicious jaws of a cobra, he wouldn't let go, no matter how many times he tried to pry him away to relieve his burning lungs. Changbin and Minho shot from their seats. From the other way, Jeongin could do nothing but watch.