on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter One

A pebble draws a smooth arc and stretches further than Wooyoung had expected. It lands on an iced surface of the Han river and hops in two, three steps, making a clattering sound failing on its mission to crack through and dip in chilling water.

The winter in Seoul is cold. Not enough to freeze the entire Han river, only sometimes, but enough for Wooyoung to find an area of still water that freezes easier on its surface.

Wooyoung huffs a white breath. The snow bites on his ass, and his whole body is numb, he hardly feels his fingers anymore with only a layer of insulator on him. Hongjoong had declared him 'nuts' before. He gawked at how Wooyoung would sometimes walk around with a T-shirt and jeans in a minus degree temperature, as if he was a disgrace to humanity and its functions.

It's not that Wooyoung doesn't feel cold, but rather, he doesn't mind cold. He likes how it freezes his brain, snatching away its ability to think.

What he actually minds, though, is the heat that lingers on him. The one that sticks to him like a gunk, the one that would only leave him with undetermined time and straining effort.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The chilled air slips in and runs through the trachea and occupies the lungs. He feels the nerves responding, sending chills down every cell of his, and he feels his brain freeze once again.

He is numb, just the way he likes.

***

When Wooyoung opens his eyes this time, he doesn't see white, but he sees neon colours bouncing. The sight clubs offer is either dark, in their aim to conceive anything unconventional, or blinding, with senseless neon lights flashing every minute.

This one is the latter, and Wooyoung watches the disorderly crowd shuffling their bodies against each other, slipping, grinding, intoxicated by music, alcohol, or something else.

But this is only a dillydally.

There are only two things that people look for in clubs, at least for the ones located in the most unmanaged, rowdy part of the city like this. Alcohol and music are to while away the time, until they get to their final goals; sex or drug, sometimes both for greedy blokes.

Wooyoung doesn't mind dancing and drinking, but today he prefers the latter alone. He sips on lighter alcohol (because the bitterness of strong ones irks him) at the bar counter, watching people shaking off dignity and senses, dancing on the floor.

"Hot Muffin?"

Wooyoung's back itches hearing someone call him from the side.

"The more I hear that name, the more my gag reflex intensifies." Wooyoung sighs as he turns to the caller. A man with bleached hair, probably in early-thirties with a foxy face, wearing a black shirt tucked in his washed-out jeans is standing there.

"Hairy Digger?" Wooyoung says it more as a comment than a question. The codename sounds equally worse, but he isn't hairy, for what it's worth.

The man nods absentmindedly as he scans Wooyoung from head to toe, his eyes a little too lingering on his hip.

"Didn't know a pusher could be this hot." His voice is tinged with lust, but Wooyoung ignores it. It's nothing new. He has heard of it so many times he thinks he can collect buckets of those compliments. Not to mention, he is well aware of that fact, and he doesn't need others to confirm it, although hearing it doesn't make him mad.

"Come on," he places an empty glass of cheap liquor on the bar counter and leads the way kneading his way through the mass, down the deep end of the club.

There are few clubs in Wooyoung's appointed territory, this being one of them, he knows how the place works. Most of those, if not all, have a room at the back, dark and concealed for unconventional purposes.

Wooyoung guides the man to the first booth, sofa aligned in a square along the walls of the small room, except for the entrance where the curtain hangs. The curtain, thin enough to show the silhouette if anyone is occupying, dark enough to conceal their faces.

The man plops himself on the sofa at the very back of the room, then pulls Wooyoung down by his arms, a distance too close for a stranger. He wraps his arm around his waist unabashedly, but Wooyoung is quick to smack it off.

"Money," he orders.

"What, don't want to have some fun?" the man tuts, but he is quick to comply. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a roll, which he hands it to him. Wooyoung quickly counts the notes with his practiced hand, and when he confirms the correct amount, he pulls out a packet from his back pocket. Giving a look at what Wooyoung handed him, the man gives a smug look.

"Don't get too excited, dude. That's what you paid for," Wooyoung says.

"Wait, this is pot? What's with the package?"

The man waves an aluminium package, that looks much like a condom package, that has the Rolling Stones' iconic tongue out illustration printed, with a phrase that is similar yet different; The Rolling Stoner.

"It's creative, isn't it?"

The man gives a smirk and leans in. "I like mischief like you."

He presses his lips on Wooyoung's. Expecting this, he doesn't fight back and answers by opening his mouth when the man demands for the entrance. Wooyoung frowns at the taste of gin on the man's tongue, and while sloppy, he acknowledges that he isn't that bad at kissing. When the man slithers his fingers in the back of Wooyoung's pants, he shoves him off.

"What?" the man frowns annoyedly.

"I don't need a dick to get laid."

"Princess, you in fact need a dick to get laid."

Wooyoung irks in reflex hearing the pet name, but he lets it slide. "True." He nods in agreement. "But I don't need your dick to get laid. I don't fuck with Stoners." Wooyoung smiles, then leaves the booth unbothered by the man asking for his attention.

Wooyoung doesn't have much to lose, and neither does he have policies he won't bend. Life is too short to live stuck up, and what's the harm in experiencing the unknown as long as it doesn't kill you? But one thing, the only rule he wouldn't sway from is to not have any relationship, emotionally or physically with someone who has their life dipped in drugs—the cause of all evil, the downfall of humanity.

The irony is, that it's the only thing that is keeping him alive.

A/N:

I know not much has been revealed yet, but I'd love to know your thoughts!