Bad habits; Jeongchan

Cigarettes on balconies

The cold is numbing.

Chan braces his hands on the balcony, surveying his surroundings.

It's dark out, the middle of the night.

He can't go back inside. His parents are still yelling.

Hesitantly, he sits down on the concrete floor of the balcony, and pulls out a packet of smokes, putting one between his lips.

"Fuck", he mutters when the lighter clicks, then clicks again.

Guess it's time to get a new lighter.

The third time, he gets a tiny flame.

He holds it to the cigarette, inhales. The smoke enters his lungs, and he tries to keep it in as long as he can before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaling again.

It curls around, the dim lights hazy in it.

Chan's lips split into a slow smile, and the cut on his lip breaks open again. He got off easy this time, his counterpart high off of a blunt.

He takes another drag, his thundering heart calming.

"You know, smoking kills", someone behind him says. Chan half leaps out of his skin, coughing. He turns to see a boy one balcony over, cocking his head at him.

Black hair falling into his eyes, dark eyes, and high cheekbones. Chan imagines tracing him into his songbook, writing down those dark, dark eyes boring into his soul, the hazy light he stands in.

He'd make the boy come alive in there, within his words, within the song he'd produce.

"I know", he says, keeping his voice smooth.

The boy nods and sits down on his own balcony.

"You're the son of the screamers", he says.

"The screamers?", Chan asks, and takes another drag of his cigarette. He swears he can see the boy blush in the dim light.

"It's uh, what my dad and me call you. The screamers. 'Cause you're always so loud, and the walls are paper thin", the boy mumbles, his shoulders tensing. His sweater is so large he almost disappears into it.

Chan exhales smoke into the air.

"Sorry", he says.

"Don't- I don't think you're at fault for it", the boy says, indistinct again. His fingers fidget in his hoodie.

Chan tilts his head, surprised. It gives the boy a better view of his face.

"I'm sorry, are you- are you ok?", the boy asks, staring at the bruised cheekbone, the cut lip.

Chan shrugs.

"I'll survive."

Dark eyes bore into him, unimpressed.

"That's not what I asked."

Chan shrugs again. The boy studies him.

"Wait here", he says after a moment,"and get rid of the cigarette."

Chan sneers and flips him off. The boy stands up and walks inside.

Chan purses his lips. That's it, huh. And here he was thinking they were bonding.

The boy comes back out a moment later. He's carrying a small box and a packet wrapped in cloth.

"Did any teeth fall out or anything?", he asks.

Chan shakes his head, and stands up to stomp out the cigarette. It's reached the end anyway.

"Here, hold this to your bruise", the boy continues, holding the packet over. Chan reaches out to take it. It's even colder than the air outside. Chan shivers and holds it up to his cheekbone, watching the boy.

He's about Chan's height, concentrated on pulling out a bottle from the box, which Chan now sees is a first aid kit.

"Hydrogen Peroxide", he says in explanation, the dabs it onto a cotton swab.

"Lean over here for me, yeah?"

Chan swallows and complies.

"This might sting", the boy warns, which makes Chan grin. What, doesn't the boy think it stung when he got it?

"Close your mouth. Hydrogen Peroxide is kinda poisonous."

Obedient, Chan stops smiling.

The boy takes his jaw, cupping his face in his soft, cold hand, and turns it to the light.

He touches Chan's lip with the cotton swab.

Chan hisses. It stings.

"Told you so", the boy says, a tiny smile fighting its way onto his face.

"Fuck off", Chan answers, then hisses again when the boy dabs the cotton swab on his lip.

The boy just shakes his head, tsking.

It makes Chan smirk.

The boy finishes, staring at the cut lip.

"If it gets infected, you need to see a doctor", he says.

Chan shrugs and leans back, shoving the hand that isn't holding the ice pack into his hoodie pocket.

"Thanks", he mutters.

The boy nods, stepping back.

"See you around", he says, picking up the first aid kit with the Hydrogen Peroxide and the cotton swab.

Chan nods.

-

He sees the boy again in the hallway, in between two periods. A person is talking to him as he leans back from the heavy weight of the books in his backpack. There's a third person in between them.

He spots Chan a second after Chan sees him. His eyes widen, his mouth falling open.

Chan raises his eyebrows in turn.

He can see him clearer now, in a pale blue hoodie that is so oversize it gives him sweater paws.

The boy's eyes flick away again. Chan can respect that. He doesn't want to talk about the circumstances of meeting either.

He focuses on a distant point while walking, pretending he doesn't see the way some other students glance at his bruise and cut lip.

-

Me: right, so I barely have time to write anymore, and I'll be offline for at least the next ~ 2 months.

Also me: starts a new story, ignoring the fact that I still have one open

-HMB