Bad habits; Jeongchan

You're screaming but they only hear you whisper

Free periods are the best time to roam through school, do homework, or anything else. The bathrooms are empty, and there are no lines. It's nice to be able to hold your hands under warm water for minutes at a time with no one being impatient.

Chan's eyes flick to where the bathroom door opens, his hands lathered in soap.

Jeongin comes in, carrying his hoodie in his hands, muttering something about fucking humans and paint.

He realizes Chan's there a moment later.

"Ummm", he coughs, shifting his hoodie around in his hands and arms.

Chan swallows and keeps washing his hands. Jeongin watches him, waiting.

He walks to the door when he's finished. Jeongin steps toward the sink. Chan licks his lips, changing his mind.

"Why are you here? Don't you have class?", he asks, his voice coming out rough.

"Uh... I spilled paint on my hoodie, and it's my favorite, so, yeah, I'm trying to wash it."

Chan nods and walks back, attempting to take the hoodie from Jeongin.

"Let me help", he says.

"No!", Jeongin half yelps.

Chan winces. Stupid, why would he need your help, he berates himself, stepping back.

But he forgets he's still holding the hoodie.

It slips out of Jeongin's grasp. Chan holds it out to him, ready to apologize-

The words die in his throat when he sees the thin red lines covering Jeongin's arm.

"Jeongin", he says, far too slowly. His head feels heavy all of a sudden.

Jeongin notices where he's looking. He scrabbles for the hoodie. Chan lets him take it. But he stops him when he tries to cover his arm again. He takes the arm in his hand instead.

"What are these?", he asks. His fingers ghost over the lines.

He doesn't want to hurt Jeongin. The boy winces anyway.

"My bunny scratched me.", he says, so calm Chan would almost believe him. If it weren't for the fact that they're so straight and meticulous, and that Jeongin, as far as Chan knows, doesn't have a bunny.

"Don't lie", he presses on instead, staring at the marks. There are a few new ones, and older ones scabbing over.
"I'm not."

But Jeongin's voice gets much higher toward the end of the sentence.

"Jeongin", Chan says, trying to keep his voice soft.

"I'm not!"

Chan stares at him, and shakes his head. He's starting to get angry. Because Jeongin isn't supposed to have those.

"Jeongin", he rasps. It comes out different than it's supposed to, an ugly, mangled thing from the back of his throat.

Jeongin doesn't answer.

Chan grabs him by the shoulders, ready to shake him, to make him understand-

"I did it", Jeongin says quietly,"I did this."

And somehow the admission hurts even more.

Jeongin can't want to die. This can't be happening.

"Look, it's not that bad-", Jeongin starts. Chan shoves him back against the wall, grabs him by the front of his t-shirt. The blood roars in his ears. He needs to understand. He needs to live.

"What about your dad?", he asks, growls,"what about your friends? You can't want to die. That's selfish."

What about me? Is what he doesn't ask. But goddamn it, Jeongin needs to stop hurting himself.

"I'm not suicidal, Chan", Jeongin answers, but Chan can hardly hear him.

"You can't- you have people who care about you! You can't hurt yourself!"

Jeongin stares at him, his dark eyes inscrutable.

"Because you don't, or what? With your smoking?"

Chan lets go of him instantly. There is so much truth in Jeongin's words. And yet, way more people care about what happens to Jeongin over Chan.

Jeongin takes the hoodie that's fallen on the floor, brings it over to the sink.

Chan watches until Jeongin looks at him, his face a calm mask, uncracked by his words.

"Leave."

-

Jeongin doesn't come out onto the balcony for a week after that. When he finally does, Chan is flicking his cigarette, then taking a slow drag. He savors the way the smoke exits his lungs.

"I'm sorry", he says, cocking his head through the haze. Jeongin nods, pursing his lips.

Chan pushes his foot off of the railing.

"I have a proposition for you."

Jeongin snorts, staring up at the sky.

"Is it for me to stop cutting, because I 'shouldn't do it'?"

"Sort of."

Chan stamps the cigarette out with his foot. He's jittery in anticipation and nervousness, so he stuffs his shaking hands into his hoodie.

"You stop cutting, and I stop smoking."

Jeongin turns his head to him, blinking.

"They're both bad", Chan hurries to explain,"so we'll do something else"

Jeongin stares at him, his eyes wide in surprise. He weighs his options, his eyes flicking to the crushed cigarette and the railing and his arm, then back to Chan's face.

"Deal", he says, sticking his hand out.

Chan takes it with a nod.

Jeongin's hand is cool under his touch, soft. Swallowing, Chan slips his hand away. This is dangerous territory.