NCT Oneshots! (Requests closed for right now! Sorry!)

Wicked Love |:| Renmin (Part 1)

Wicked Love - Yena | Psycho - Jun
I came up with this months ago. Welcome to my atrocious headspace. ✌️
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Basic premise;
Renjun is down in the dumps. Severely. What was supposed to be a stupid idea presented by Donghyuck, to go explore an abandoned mall, turned into a hundred things he didn't expect.
And Jaemin is ninety-nine of them.
Category: Lowkey this is Dead Dove material
Enjoy ;)
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[11:27 PM]

A huff.

"Where are they?"

The window creaks as it's pressed down with no warning, crisp spring air filtering through the open expanse, as a very agitated head cranes backward to scan the still empty parking lot.

"I swear to god, I'm leaving if they don't show in the next five minutes."

"And if they show in six, and you're not here, then what's gonna happen?"

Renjun whips back around with an exhausted glare. "Then they can kiss my ass. This wasn't my idea. I didn't even want to do this."

"We could just go without them," Jaemin offers, black hair falling across his eyes, which he didn't even turn Renjun's direction. It looked damp. It usually did—perhaps it was just perpetually dirty, or maybe he just had naturally smutty hair. Renjun didn't care enough to ask. "If they show up they show up. We'll still have fun."

"It is not fun."

"Thrilling?" Jaemin turned to look at him now. "Invigorating?"

Renjun's stare remained cold. "No. It's stupid."

"You did agree to it," Jaemin shrugs, turning to look out his window towards the severely worn-down mall they were parked in front of. "You didn't have to come."

"Yeah, I did," he huffed, crossing his arms, and fell back into his seat with a cushioned thud. "I told Hyuck I would show up, so I had to show up."

"He clearly has no obligation to show up," Jaemin sifts through his pockets. "Why should you?"

"Because he asked me to."

Jaemin hums, which seems somehow incriminating, and only pisses Renjun off more. He chooses to seethe in silence, sinking further into his seat. Growing small has always been his defense mechanism.

A few long minutes pass with a frightening level of stagnancy, before a sticky plume wafted through the expanse of the front console, leading Renjun to notice the freshly burning joint in Jaemin's hand, stinking up his car. He waves it away while rolling down the window, a scowl lining his face. "For god's sake, can you not survive twelve minutes sober?" He pulls his jacket up over his mouth to emphasize his point. The point drops dead before it even hits Jaemin's ears.

"I need some form of mental stimulation," he shrugs, putting the flame out, and helping fan the smoke through the windows. "And you stopped talking."

Renjun wishes his eyes held the power to inflict pain.

"You're a deadweight."