This is Not a Syndicate
This is Not a Syndicate (PG13) AU Onew + Key | The pair set out on a quest to retrieve crates of soju from an abandoned storage warehouse in a very old car.
Jinki should have considered the ramifications that would follow under taking one of Kibum's questionable schemes. His ideas always sounded good at first-electric-shock poker, for instance, sounded extraordinarily more fun than it was-but when properly examined, were all tantamount to masochism.
Kibum folded his arms behind his head, gazing at the road ahead of them, unconcerned. "You over-think, sometimes. We're not going to die."
Jinki highly doubted this.
"You always say we won't die."
Kibum blinked at him. "Well I rest my case."
In fact, Jinki didn't care about the soju. Jinki didn't give a flying fudge about the soju. It could rot in that stupid warehouse for all he cared. Leak onto the concrete floor and start a blazing soju-smelling fire in the mid-summer heat. He and Kibum would hear about it on prime time news and, like everybody else, debate whether or not it was arson and not come to any real conclusion before dinner time.
Jinki wished Kibum were like everybody else.
There was absolutely no need for them to 'lift the burden', as Kibum put it. The soju distributor had to take care of his plummeting sales as they were and probably didn't need a case of cargo theft by two teenage boys added to their list of problems.
Jinki would've put more effort into vocalising his opinions, with lots of punctuated letters and wild hand gestures to demonstrate his acute displeasure, but driving the car was taking up the bulk of his concentration.
The engine roared with too much fuel in the chambers and lurched, sending its driver and passenger forward painfully against their seat belts, the thick poly-blend bands printing lines into their torsos.
"Shit, Jinki. Get a fucking grip! Don't you remember how to drive?" Kibum said, shooting Jinki a look that showed how highly he ranked Jinki's level of incompetence.
"It's the car! The accelerator- i-it's not working right!" Jinki said, brows knitting together with frustration and distress. "I'm not kidding. We're dead. Finished. Toast."
Jinki squeezed his eyes shut for a second and eased on the brakes, ignoring Kibum's screams of 'don't close your fucking eyes'. The car didn't halt. Jinki now had the weight of both feet against the brake pedal, praying that trying to stop at the curb would work.
It didn't.
"This is not how a heist should go," Kibum said with a huff, swaying to the centrifugal force that was Jinki weaving about the empty road, mid-hysteria. "You're supposed to drive fast and steady. Does all this mad swerving serve a purpose?" He looked pointedly at Jinki. "Are you trying to cover more ground?"
"I'm trying-" Jinki said through gritted teeth, "-to pull up to the curb."
"Why on earth would you try to pull up to the curb?"
"No offense, but I think this car needs to get scraped. The brakes are worn and I will not be able to stop until I pull this-" he pointed at the emergency brake with agitation. "We're sitting in our tomb."
Kibum sighed. "It is getting scraped. Tomorrow."
Jinki let out a small whimper, and Kibum turned up the stereo which, as years piled upon years would have it, was broken.
"Jesus!" Kibum dragged out the first syllable, his head falling into the head rest with a soft, cushioned thud. He was a vision of petty frustration, fingers tapping against the cracked open glass of the car window, breath coming out in whooshes through his nose. Jinki felt his exasperation was far better justified.
He was starting to think that Kibum had a death wish, and was angry because he wasn't dying quickly enough.
"Do I take a turn here or are we headed for the next exit?" He pressed his feet into the brakes, just to help the car slow down a little. "Kibum? Do I turn?"
"Oh-yea. Turn right. Right." Kibum had somehow managed to fall asleep in the ten minutes that Jinki claimed to sit with his thoughts on repeat and his toes sore from sinking into the front of his shoes. "Okay stop!" he said when Jinki had passed the warehouse. He pushed the gearshift into park, sending them hurtling painfully into their seat belts a second time.
The engine keened-an old dog about to be put down. Kibum kicked under the dashboard. "Stupid piece of shit."
Jinki was no expert at warehouse pilfering, but he knew enough from TV and general knowledge. You did not walk into the open arms of your target and get found out. Kibum walked up to the guard outside like he would an old friend. Why hadn't they come in the night? Jinki placed a brick behind one of the tires to stop the car from rolling away. Who knew if the gearshift was working any better than the brake, and running after a renegade car would probably give them away.
The whole idea was to be on the q.t.
Kibum chatted loudly with the guard and barked a few laughs. He was never good at being subtle. Jinki acknowledged this trait with silent resignation on days where they wouldn't get shot point blank by angry merchants saying 'get off ma property, ye scoundrel'.
Jinki scooted up to where Kibum was already entering the warehouse, questions materialising in slurred Korean. Kibum put his hand into the back pocket of Jinki's jeans. "Let's load the car."
"What's the story?" he asked. He might as well get in on the job if he was going to die for driving the getaway car. "Are we the law?"
"I'm the Big boss' nephew. We're bringing the soju over to my house because my uncle wants to get rid of it," Kibum said, giving Jinki's butt a constrained tap of reassurance. "Just play along." Jinki wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up an act like that, but he would have to try.
Just their luck, the Big boss was sitting on a crate. His face lit up in acknowledgment when he saw Kibum. "Ah, Kibum! I've been waiting for you."
"Sorry, we had car trouble." Kibum pulled his hand out of Jinki's pocket to point at him. "This is Jinki. Jinki, this is my uncle-" and then, "-say hi, you idiot."
"Hi-hello. Sir."
"Well don't just stand there. Get moving! We need as many crates out of here as we can."
They moved crates for close to two hours, piling box after box of soju into the back seat and trunk of the car. When there was no space for boxes, they stuffed loose bottles under the seats and between the gaps of the crammed boxes. Kibum popped one open and took a sip.
"Soju?" he offered. Jinki narrowed his eyes at Kibum.
Finally, the boss had gone into his office, and Jinki let out a garbled noise of panic. "Shouldn'tweleavesoonwon'thefindoutyou'renotreallyhisnephew?"
"What?"
"The boss. Won't he realise you're not his nephew?"
Frankly, Jinki was tired of keeping up the pretense. His nostrils flared open with each laboured breath from weariness. He wanted to go home, take a quick shower and settle himself in front of Saturday afternoon cartoons with a bowl of dry fruitloops. He really didn't care about the soju anymore. The soju be damned.
Kibum could get fudged on his own. Jinki would walk home if he had to.
At a certain point in Jinki's thought process, Kibum had started laughing. He slapped his thigh and made whooping noises. He grabbed Jinki by the shoulders and shook him while he laughed.
"Haha! You are so stupid Jinki!" Kibum said once he'd managed to control his amusement. Jinki didn't appreciate the accusation.
"I don't appreciate your accusations! I'm not stupid! You're stupid! You're a stupid-head! This whole operation is entirely stupid!"
Kibum grabbed him and started shaking him again. "You have got to calm down. We're not stealing anything. I just thought it might be a fun little experiment to see how long you'd believe my dumb story."
Unbelievable. Kibum was unbelievable. The bane of his very existence. Kibum waved to his uncle, who waved back from inside his office, his ear pressed against the receiver of his phone. He led them out of the warehouse, placing the still full bottle of opened soju somewhere on the floor.
Outside, the guard walked around importantly, saluting them as Jinki started the car after kicking the car-stop brick from under its tire. "This is the last I will have of your schemes."
"I think I'll call Jonghyun and we can have a house party," Kibum said, disregarding Jinki's angry statement.
"I hate you so much," Jinki said.
Kibum was already texting Jonghyun, dictating a time and place and guest list.
Jinki contemplated letting go of the wheel and willing the car with broken brakes to drive itself off a lofty cliff, sending them plummeting to the irregular, pointy rocks below, salt water and soju embalming their cold, mangled bodies.
"I mean really, fuck you," Jinki said with much difficulty.