beeeeenie_baby
At nineteen, Hanbin decides he hates water. He hates the feeling of hopelessness that claws at his lungs when surrounded by oxygen they can't use. The irony of it is maddening.
He's never liked irony, either. And when it turns up in the form of the pretty, new face in his friend group after his year away, well, he might hate that, too.
Cross-posted on ao3: ☀archiveofourown.org/works/63031264☀