Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

③④ Pas De Deux

The steering wheel dug uncomfortably into his spine.

This entire position was awkward for Jeongin, with his back resting against the wheel and legs bent beneath him on the driver's seat, his feet had felt needles pricking into them long ago and since then have abandoned him for another miasma. He had to balance carefully on the wheel too; lean too far one way the horn would blast, slip the other and he would fall off. A balancing act. That's all it was. Seemed he had been doing a lot of that lately but it never got any easier. As he sat straddling the older in that inconvenient arrangement, the discomfort of it all beginning to spark an irritation in his temples, he wondered how long before they realized he wasn't balancing anymore.

With a sigh, Jeongin let his head fall back with nothing to catch him and he was met with the sight of a car ceiling. The heater running in the vehicle brought the same comforting feeling as the blankets he cuddled around himself, that same exhaustion washing over him with the warm surroundings. He let his eyes flutter shut as he stretched his arms over his head, the mild rush of euphoria stinging his muscles into something more alive. While his arms slowly fell back to their spot in his lap, he murmured, "I'm so tired."

"Been sleeping a lot this past week," The quiet but distracted response came from Chan. There was a slight twinge of something in his tone Jeongin wasn't able to identify as the older commented, "Going to think you like my bed more than me."

"You're right," Jeongin nodded as he dropped his gaze to Chan, "I like your bed, I hate you."

The corner of Chan's lips perked into a smile. His attention was directed to the phone in his hand, the bright screen flickering in the dark as he flipped from screen to screen just long enough for them to be secrets. The younger began wondering what was so important he had to respond at that moment, but the better part of him choked down any bitter comments that might arise and reminded himself that he didn't have the liberty to dig in business that wasn't his.

The older glanced up from the screen. His gaze lingered for a few moments before the light of the phone dimmed till it was off, and the device was tossed on the dashboard, "Looks like there's something on your mind."

"Are... No, nevermind. It's not important," Jeongin fiddled with his hands, watching the pads of his fingers press together.

"Songbird, can't read your mind. You need to tell me."

"It's..." Jeongin trailed his sentence off as he reconsidered his words, attempting to weight every pro and con he could think of within factions of a second to not keep the older waiting. It always seemed Chan would be able snap the pieces of the puzzle together even if he didn't tell why or how. Never seemed secrets were much of an option. Jeongin curled his fingers into fists as he met the older's eyes, "Are you proud of me?"

Chan quirked an eyebrow. He relaxed more into his seat, elbow resting on the window sill so he could lean his temple against his knuckles, a general curiosity that Jeongin recognized glinting behind his eyes as he inquired, "Where's this coming from?"

"Minho a while back said something about it and I- and I guess it's been bugging me," Jeongin flicked his eyes back to his hands, the courage he summoned to ask vanishing into the atmosphere, slipping between the cracks of the car so it could escape into the closed shop, and out into the night city air. He was about to tug at the hangnails on his fingers before Chan silently grabbed his hand and stopped him from doing so. Jeongin babbled, "I don't know if someone's ever said they were proud of me, so I'm just, curious."

"Why are you now wondering?" Chan asked instead of giving a solid answer.

Jeongin considered the question for a while, letting the quiet hum of the engine and the croon of the heating system fill their silence. It was a valid question, albeit one he didn't have a clear answer for. He could wonder all he wanted but why he began to wonder and what lit the question? That was a realm he hadn't dipped his toes into nor cared to explore yet. But as their silence droned on, Chan waited for an excuse of an answer, and Jeongin began laying out the first thoughts that came to mind, "I want to know if what I'm doing and if the decisions I'm going to make are right; I still want to be a good person. Maybe someone being proud of me is a sign I'm doing something right for once."

"Shouldn't trust good people," Chan asserted sharply.

"I'm sorry," Jeongin furrowed his eyebrows together, "I don't think I understand what you're trying to say."

"Do you trust the crew members?"

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"And your Mother? Your parents? Any of your friends, teachers, do you trust them?"

Yes, was the answer he wanted to say. But Jeongin found himself shaking his head a confident, "No."

"We're criminals, but you trust us over people who are considered 'good'."

"They're not good people," Jeongin dropped his gaze to his hands. He could feel a frown pulling down at his lips as a bitter taste painted his tongue, an honesty like poison dripping from the venom in his voice because of the lying, sneaking, cheating, and anger, it all led back to them. No. They were never good people. None of them are.

"They play their part well," Chan said as he lifted his head from the side, and dropped his now free hand to Jeongin's leg, "But there's nothing for the crew to hide. You know our faults, we're honest, in turn you trust us. Good people are always hiding something, secrets run a lot deeper than ours."

The younger closed his eyes again. He tried to picture the people in his life, the ones he'd always admired for being 'good', his role models growing up, his family, only for his heart to shatter when he grasped they were all the same. There were secrets and disappointments they hid behind expensive suits and righteous smiles that would only make him sick if he saw them now. Although the crew had their secrets, they never hid them as a pretense for being perfect. They were just, them.

Even worse was when he realized he was no different to the good people.

The hiding, sneaking, lying, trying to disguise himself as a perfect student with smiles and polite greetings, when at night he snuck off with unfamiliar people. When they were supposedly riddled with nasty habits. When he was feeling up their leader in a closet when his friend was asking him to come back. When he despised school and everything about it but only put in the effort to please his parents. He had secrets that ran deeper into his veins than the roots of a tree, it spread and grew and blossomed until he was suffocating.

Jeongin let himself fall forward, forehead thumping against Chan's shoulder. He felt a hand find it's place rubbing gently on his back as he just buried his face into the older's neck and muttered, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Why do you think?"

"I don't know," Jeongin shook his head, "But this hurts to hear because I'm not any different. 'Good', but I'm not me."

The hand on his back came to a stop. As Chan spoke, the younger could feel the vibrations ring of his voice ring through his throat, "And?"

"And," The younger repeated as he sat up and gently knocked their foreheads together, heart beginning to beat louder in his chest with every slight movement either of them took. Exhilarating, that was a word he had heard some time before, that was about what he could describe was chasing down the tugging feeling in his chest from a few seconds prior. An optimal distraction, for now. He let a hand find a spot on the crook of the older's neck, "I told you I was going to be different. You said I was sickening for being polite, then I'll change."

"You have, Songbird," Chan muttered. Fingers weaved through the younger's dyed red hair and traveled to a hold on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

Chan was going to say more, the words already brushing against the younger lips when the lights in the shop flipped on, followed almost immediately by a harsh rapping at the car window. Their heads snapped in the direction of the noise as an annoyed voice yelled through the minimal barrier the plexiglass provided for them,

"Can you two stop trying to snog wHILE WE'RE AROUND?!"

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