brakes [jongyu, g]
brakes
jongyu, g
fluff
Now it seems it was history
Thoughts from a past life
Now it seems only memories
Life making fast time »
Like a speeding train whizzing by at the very extent that the tracks will allow the metal container to move, barrelling down the underground passageways like a secret serpent that holds and carries people from one place to another. Or like the rumble of a motorcycle as it takes it’s first breath and the engine begins it’s raucous heartbeat, lighting a fire inside of the small, muscled machine that just wants to run. And when it’s finally kick-started, somehow makes it’s rider - feeling the whip of air as it blurs by everything - never want to stop.
Jinki clutches the strap of the backpack thrown over his shoulder, taking a deep breath through his nose and basking in the exhaust of the city‘s day, now ended. It used to give him headaches and it used to make his eyes tear up, the sting that pierced his senses.
But as he watched the carbon dioxide exhalers drive by him day by day, he began to wonder.
“Jinki, are you okay?”
“Hmm?” he hums, turning to his left and finding that usual look of apprehension that Kibum gives him half the time.
“Y-Yeah, sorry.”
“You should really stop doing that, one day you‘ll get hit by a car or something.”
Cringing as Kibum swats at his arm, he nods and turns back to stare out at the street. Vehicles stand waiting for the red-light to turn green again.
+
It’s Friday night and he wholeheartedly expected it to be a quiet night out, but instead he’s blindly dragged to one of those gatherings where friends of friends come to karaoke, eat, drink and be stupid. Or hook-up. Either way, Jinki knows that Kibum hasn’t brought him along just to show off how well he can sing nor how funny he can be.
Because when Kibum grabs his forearm and deliberately drags him across the room to introduce him to this slightly shorter, rather attractive brunette he’d eyed when they first arrived, Jinki realizes that Kibum might know his type a lot better then he gives him credit for.
“So Jonghyun,” he tries to say as conversationally as he can without leaking awkward all over his words, “How do you know Kibum?”
“We used to go to school together, primary and middle school. Lived around the same area.”
“Ah~”
“You guys went to high school together, right?”
His smile is inviting and all Jinki can do is return it, nodding dumbly as he takes a sip of his 4th drink tonight.
“Yeah, he told me a few nights ago. I called asking if I could crash at his place for a bit until I could find somewhere to live.”
“Oh? You don‘t live in Seoul?”
By the time they all decided to move the ever increasing rowdy party to a club, Jinki finds out that Kim Jonghyun is majoring in music composition, transferring from Kyungpook National University to Korea National University of Arts, that his voice is kind of really wonderful and he’s younger by a few months. There’s something brazen about him but oddly friendly. And that he can’t help but want to sit around and do nothing with him, crack a few jokes that most would find ridiculous but they’d end up laughing like idiots.
It is nice to know though that Kibum won’t equip him with any previously discussed information about a boy he thinks Jinki can charm into liking him.
+
By the time they’re dropped off at his apartment, catcalls and random profanities are being yelled at them from the car as it pulls away, horn honking. Kibum yells something about a condom and Jinki can feel his face flush a ridiculous pink.
The sun is just a few hours away from peering over the horizon and Jonghyun suggests they go to the Han river to greet it. Jinki wonders when he was written into some sappy love story.
But when the younger boy grabs his wrist and pulls him down the sidewalk, he relents. The concrete is spinning underneath his feet and he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. It’s not like he has class tomorrow - today - and anywhere to go otherwise.
So he hops, picking up speed as he begins to run. When he looks back, he catches the shock on the other boy’s face as he’s tugged forwards.
Jinki can’t remember the last time he’s been this breathless, his heart pounding loudly in the shell of his ear.
+
“So Kibum honestly said nothing about me?”
Jinki shakes his head and pictures the pleased grin that must be plastered all over the younger boy’s face as he relishes in the fact that he’s left Jinki feeling like his brakes have been cut and is barrelling down an unknown road since the beginning of the night, driving aimlessly in the dark.
“I thought we were going to see a movie or something.”
Jonghyun’s laugh makes his heart do this weird little jump in his chest. Because it feels like he’s showed him every inch of his brain, the little snippets of life he promised he’d never bore anyone with. Jonghyun is a surprisingly good talker.
“Wait, aren’t we supposed to be having sex?”
Jinki blinks at the other, stiffening at the very last word. But as he registers the look on the other’s face, he can’t help but laugh. He might still be a little drunk and a lot tired, but when he invited Jonghyun over to stay the night - morning, day, forever - he hadn’t even thought about it.
He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and tries to memorize how the other boy looks huddled up underneath his blanket, like the world doesn’t even matter - or that the sun is too bright to allow sleep.
But he’s positive he’ll remember the shocks on his tongue while their mouths were pressed together for a lazy kiss.
When they pull apart, he feels like he’s just been hit by bus.
+
Monday’s class is boring and he can’t help but loath math for making him this tired at two in the afternoon. But Jinki is surprised when the bus comes early - or is he? - and he steps up onto that great hall of moving seats. Plopping down on his usual seat right by the back doors, he presses his forehead to the window.
Life is moving endlessly, whirring past like a fast forwarded movie. People walking their dogs, running various shops and waiting at street corners. Jinki pushes the button and waits for the next stop. He steps down, shaking his head and catching himself in the middle of a prayer to God that the concrete doesn’t fall out from underneath him.
Might as well walk.
idk, concrit or concerns welcome.