Big Book Of Sjips One Shots

Untitled (S)

TW: Crying, Teen!Cast

They sat next to each other, fingers intertwined, breaths matched, shoulders touching. School had started two hours ago, yet here they were, sitting in the back of Sips' truck, idling in the parking lot, waiting out the storm. The worst had passed, Sjin knew. Sips still drew shaky breaths and wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sighed, from deep inside his chest as if to expel every terrible thing, but the worst was over. Things were better, or getting better, bit by bit. Sjin squeezed Sips' hand, once, briefly, a small reassurance, and smiled when Sips returned the gesture.

Sips had seen Sjin cry loads of times, he did it practically every time they watched a movie. Once, Sjin had stayed home sick, and had Sips stay with him. The two of them spent seven hours watching a show they had dug up online, one that had been advertised as a satire, or something, but by the end of it Sjin had practically cried himself dry. Sips was guilty too, kind of, but his reaction hadn't been as explosive as Sjin's. There had been snot everywhere, it was disgusting, and Sips would never let him live it down.

The first time Sjin saw Sips with a bruised cheek and a split lip and a black eye and a bloody nose, he had cried. Out of shock, mostly, and partially out of fear. Sips barely looked human, and Sjin had been young. They were both young, too young to be subjected to that kind of damage. Sips had taken Sjin's hand in his own (knuckles bloodied, only a little) and smiled (he had lost a tooth), and promised that it was okay, he had won, anyway.

When Sips cries, it's different. Of course it's different, Sjin could count the number of times he'd seen Sips cry, really cry, on one hand, and have enough remaining fingers to do most day-to-day things, but it's more than that. When Sips cries, it is harsh. It is rough and brutal and it violently shakes his entire body, every time. Every time, Sjin is afraid that every sob might be the one that will tear his friend in half, and leave him alone. It starts with a harsh breath, a gasp, and then an earth-shattering sob and he is done for. He curls up on himself, every time, doubles over, as if to hide himself, and lets out a string of sobs, each vicious, each deeply sad, punctuated at random intervals by a loud, harsh yell, and it is terrible. It is so terrible, and it makes Sjin want to cry as well, every time, and the way it churns his stomach makes him want to throw up, but he doesn't. Instead, he keeps his breathing even and waits one, five, ten seconds before pulling Sips away from himself, carefully, and holding him. It's better this way, he'll calm down faster this way, most people do. Sjin says nothing, does nothing, just waits and tries to seem as strong as he can. Each sob shaking the both of them, and later Sjin always thinks it poetic, in a way. They are not alone.

Sometimes, Sjin is able to anticipate this. It's not hard, spend enough time with emotionally weary teenagers and you start to pick up on the tells. Dismissive sighs, distant gazes, temperaments lackluster, and atmosphere heavy. Sometimes, though, it comes without warning, out of five seconds of silence, a faint smile from a secret joke still playing in his lips, when suddenly it is gone and his gaze is fixed somewhere far away and the whole of everything comes crashing down upon him.

That's how they ended up here, in so many words. Sjin didn't actually recall them moving to the back, but they clearly must've, because here they were. Sips sighed, again, and so did Sjin, but it was cleansing instead of exasperated, and something about that made Sips laugh, a little. Sjin looked over at him, and smiled when he smiled.

Sips sniffled. "Sorry," he said. His voice still sounded a little rough and breaking, but there was still laughter in it.

"Don't be," Sjin replied, almost scolding. "We'd already missed first and most of second hour by the time we got here, anyway."

Sips laughed, and that had always been rough, too, but in a different way. A good sort of rough, a warm sort of harsh.

"Hey, why don't we just... skip the rest of the day, yeah?" Sjin offered. "We might as well."

"You figure?"

"We could... we could order a pizza, or two pizzas–"

"Or three." Sjin laughed. "Why don't we just buy the entire company?"

"Or every pizza in the world. How about we just fucking buy the concept of pizza."

"Literally own pizza."

"You know what, Sjin? That's the best fucking idea I've heard all day."

Credit to poostnight805 on tumblr