Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

②⑦ Stains

"So is it true?" Minho dropped the greasy wrench on an filthy oil rag splayed out atop the wooden table resting in the corner of the shop, the heavy metal narrowly missing Jeongin's fingers as he retracted them into a balled up fist. He mocked, "You two screwing around?"

The younger frowned at the drops of undetected motor oil that splashed on to his half finished math homework. It wasn't as if he was planning to finish it either way but simply seeing the dirty blips of imperfection on the perfect paper made him cringe. He tore his uniform jacket off his chair and tried patting the wet spots down with the insides of the sleeves as he choked back silent swears, "Why is it suddenly everyone is interested?"

"Why wouldn't we be? Chan's our leader, I've been giving advice to you," Minho shrugged, "I want to know what's going on."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them as Jeongin continued to pat down the blotches, the chemicals leaving their bronze stains on everything it touched, including the uniform jacket Jeongin might've considered caring about at one point. The stains will wash out one day, he reassured himself as he stared in pity at the discolored nylon fabrics. Once he deemed the homework to be dry enough he threw the jacket somewhere in the pristine shop to later be forgotten about, and turned back to Minho who was watching the lump of fabric in curiosity. He sighed, "It's not true and I don't know where you heard that."

"Don't need to hear about it," From his place by the wall, Hyunjin butted in to the conversation. His head snappsd up from his phone, face screaming a look of 'Jising told us' as he taunted, "You can see it."

"Regardless," Jeongin sent a sharp look in his direction, "It's not true."

Minho guessed, "...But you want it to be?"

"No," Jeongin firmly told as he glared up at the older. Definitely not true. He could even argue that what they were saying was farther then the truth than any of their previous guesses. Even if it straddled the line of being just slightly true, but it wasn't as if Jeongin would admit that to anyone. Or himself.

"Alright, fine, live in perpetual sexual tension," The older teased as he backed away from the table, hands flapping in a manner that bordered on sarcastic. He returned to the car he was doing repairs on, head diving back under the shade of the metal canopy as he got back to fiddling with the complex mechanics and oleaginous gaskets. Meanwhile, Jeongin flushed bright red. He busied himself with the uncompleted homework to distract himself from nearly combusting his poor pencil from the sheer heat swamping his veins. But maybe if it caught on fire then he wouldn't have to complete the assignment. Jeongin stared at the pencil. Very tempting.

"They keep doing that 'Oh I hate you!', 'No you don't you love me' thing," Hyunjin commented again, nose burying back into the bright screen of his phone, "Maybe it's their love language."

"Is that what that's called?" Minho commented quietly.

"I thought so?"

"Kinky."

Hyunjin gagged.

"Fuck off," Minho tossed a plain metal socket in the other's direction, the small cylinder narrowly missing his head as it thudded painful against the wall and clattered to the concrete floors with a racket. However, the only response it illicited was a classic uninterested eyebrow raise of displeasure. Jeongin could only assume that it had not been the first time a metal tool was thrown at him. But the more he thought about it, paired with the strange and seemingly random dents in certain parts of the wall, it probably wasn't the first time a tool was thrown in the shop.