UGH! / SOPE & VMIN.

FIFTEEN, CHIP SHOP SPECULATIONS.

CHIP SHOP SPECULATIONS.

     WHEN THE CHIP shop down the road from menswear opened this morning, yoongi bets they weren't expecting four very strange-looking punk-rock-esque boys to walk in at lunchtime, dressed in varying strange outfits and smelling like if a hangover was a perfume. angel, jeongguk, hoseok and yoongi order big plates of chips and battered white cod, greasy and hot and delicious, before they sit down at one of the plastic tables scattered around the scabby-looking place.

angel tunes them all out for his orwellian novel, glasses still on his nose, such a weird contrast to the leather and chains he's got on. hoseok lights up a cigarette stolen from jeongguk and opens the window they're next to, the fumes and stench of london town flooding yoongi's nostrils.

"do they do coffee 'ere?" he asks desperately, his head still pounding. he can't remember nothing from after he and hoseok fled from that copper; he presumes he had a couple hits off a bong ( bong headaches are a familiar friend to min yoongi ), and that he drank quite a bit of jack, judging from the bottle he woke up next to, passed out on a suspiciously damp mattress on hoseok's floor. he barely had a chance to wake up this morning, pulled out of the apartment by a fuming hoseok, who was angrily muttering about having been fired or something similar. so yeah, he needs some fucking coffee.

"good fuckin' idea," jeongguk, the pink haired drummer who yoongi met literally an hour ago, agrees with him, rubbing at his forehead. "oi, garçon!" his rough irish accent calls over one of the few staff milling around, a bloke in a suspiciously stained blue apron. "mate, could we get some coffee, please? 'nd some sugar packs and milk, obviously. thanks."

the 'garçon' nods and heads back to the kitchen, jeongguk smiling triumphantly. he too looks like he was dragged out of bed, wearing a far-too-large hideous knitted jumper in some kind of maroon shade, his pink hair a tousled mess. yoongi doesn't like being in last night's clothes, but he doesn't suspect he can go home yet — he is hungry, anyway.

"so, gguk," hoseok speaks around the fag in his mouth, the drummer cocking an eyebrow at him. "'ve spoken to jin, a'ight, 'n we're gunna record a couple things like, tomorrow or day after, whatever fits. probs the day after, 'cause i need to actually go to work at the garage tomo', so, er, that a'ight for you?"

"do i have much of a choice?" jeongguk says resentfully. yoongi wonders if he and hoseok are properly friends or if they only really hang out because they're in a band.

"you guys should try and get into that gig up in buckinghamshire next week," angel comments, eyes never moving from his battered copy of 1984. hoseok looks at him, confused, and he looks up, confused himself by the silence his suggestion was met with. "oh, you didn't know?"

"what are you on about, ange?" jeongguk says, and angel rolls his eyes, shoving jeongguk with his elbow.

"don't fuckin' call me ange, me name ain't fuckin' angela, 'tis it?" he huffs. "anyways, you fuckin' culchie's¹, there's a tiny punk festival goin' on in buckinghamshire 'nd they want bands, i dunno, my mate's girlfriend's band 're preforming there. i'm goin', and my mate has a van if you need'ta transport equipment."

"what's this festival called, then?" hoseok asks, a small notebook seemingly pulled from thin air now in his hand.

"uh, 'punk rocky', like punk rock meets the rocky horror picture show? it's fuckin' brilliant, like, the bands all dress up like the characters."

jeongguk snickers, slapping angel's arm. "imagine us in that getup, mate. y'fancy a pair of fishnets 'n a corset, hobs? how's about we slap one of them garter things on jin 'n call it a day?"