Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?
Title: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?
Author: heteroshinee
Pairing(s): Minho/Key
Rating: PG-15
Summary: “No, Minho, I’m giving you up because you’re ruining your life and I love you too much to watch you do it.”
Warnings: hints to drug use.
There was a cheer as another dart hit the board, the group now in no state to hit the actual board, and Minho smirked, twirling his phone around in his hand. His vision blurred and he slumped forward before correcting himself, scratching his forehead before pouring himself another shot and throwing it back down his throat. It was already three AM and all of his texts had been left unanswered. He sniffed before slumping back in his seat and typing out another one.
To: Kibum
oi, answefsr my txts btch
Sent: 03:28
The clock was ticking backwards and Minho watched it in confusion, the hands waltzing around each other. He reached for the tequila again but another hand batted his away.
“Dude, I think you’ve had enough,” Taemin grabbed the bottle and poured himself a shot, shifting as a dead weight fell onto his lap. “And so has he apparently. Why am I the only one that can hold my liquor?”
Minho scoffed.
“Liquor’s for pansies,” he muttered under his breath as he watched Jonghyun steal the tequila bottle from his place slumped on Taemin’s lap. He was the worst of the lot so Minho figured it was his ‘moral duty’ to remove the alcohol from him. He smirked, grabbing the bottle and spilling some on the leather couch before taking a gulp himself. Taemin scrunched up his nose in disgust as Jonghyun licked up the spilt liquid before resting his cheek in the sticky residue.
Minho’s phone buzzed and he grabbed at it eagerly.
“Someone’s eager to get laid,” Taemin scoffed, pulling Jonghyun’s head up from the sofa with a grimace on his face. Jonghyun shifted slightly and face planted straight into Taemin’s crotch.
From: Kibum
Fuck off, Minho.
Received: 03:35
Minho frowned, glaring at the screen and the fuzzy letters. He heard another scoff as Jinki sat down next to him before placing a few bottles of beer on the side.
“What did you do?”
“No fucking idea,” Minho glared again before stealing one of Jinki’s beers, fingers tapping on the screen of his phone. “Fuck it.”
The first few rings went straight through to voicemail as Kibum screened his calls but the fifth or sixth went through and he found himself on the line with a very pissed Kibum.
“What do you want, Minho?”
Minho grinned, “you know what I want.”
“Yeah well forget about it.”
“Fuck off Minho, I have work tomorrow morning.”
“You can skip it.”
“Grow the fuck up, some of us actually have responsibilities.”
Minho listened to Kibum sigh angrily and in the background he could hear the radio playing softly.
“Are you at home?”
“Yes. Don’t you dare think about coming over though.” Minho was already stood up, stumbling through the pub towards the exit as the door blurred in his sight. He leant on the wall but fell back as it opened up, turning out to be a door that led to a UV lit bathroom. He squinted at the purple as it washed through his vision.
“Baby why are you being so mean?” He murmured as he met his own reflection in the mirror and it morphed to Kibum’s face, beckoning him with a curling finger.
“Minho …” Kibum sighed and Minho could hear him shuffle uncomfortably, “why did you phone me?”
“I want to see you.”
“Funny that,” Kibum scoffed, “you only ever want to do that when you’re high.”
“Ki-”
“Bye Minho.” The phone connection dropped and Minho swore out loud. Storming bac kto the table, he grabbed his jacket, sending a glare towards Taemin and Jonghyun who were half way between making out and eating each other.
“I’m going,” he declared and Jinki shrugged, taking another sip of his beer as his eyes trailed over to the figure of the bartender.
He stumbled out of the exit and the cool air hit him suddenly, chilling him to the bone. He squinted left and right, suddenly unsure of where he was. The streetlamp across the road flickered and went out, bathing the street in a blanket of darkness and Minho stumbled left, hoping he was headed in the right direction.
~~~
He woke up the next morning and everything ached, his head pounded and his throat was the driest it had ever been. He grunted as he suddenly fell backwards, pain shooting across his forehead as his head hit the ground.
“Fuck,” he mumbled.
“What the fuck?” He heard a familiar voice and Kibum was behind him, stood in the entrance of his house, dressed for work with a pair of car keys clutched in his right hand. “Have you been here all night?”
“Can’t remember,” he mumbled as he dragged himself into Kibum’s house, despite protest. He helped himself to a glass of water and paracetamol as Kibum stood by the doorway angrily.
“I can’t keep doing this, Minho.” Kibum ripped the glass from Minho’s grasp as he moved to the sink to wash it, the lines of his neck and shoulders pin straight with tension. Minho stilled in the silence.
“What are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying, I can’t keep doing this,” his hands stilled on the glass.
“Fucking hell, Key, I’m just having fun. You did it too, unless you’re conveniently forgetting?”
“Yeah I did,” Kibum had turned around now and was glaring without any hesitation, “but I fucking grew up, because I refused to let myself spiral into that kind of shit again. What the fuck did you even take yesterday?”
Minho shrugged and Kibum sighed, eyes glancing to the watch on his wrist.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced, heading to the door, but Minho pulled him back.
“So let me get this right,” he muttered into his ear, “you’re giving this up, giving me up, because you’re on a fucking high horse all of a sudden?”
“No, Minho, I’m giving you up because you’re ruining your life and I love you too much to watch you do it.” Minho caught Kibum’s eyes and they were teary, but he was gone in a split second and Minho swore under his breath.
He found himself back in the pub, ironically enough, with a glass of orange juice because Kibum’s word were reverberating in his head and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Jinki had a stable career in some law firm downtown, Taemin taught dance and Jonghyun was training to become a music teacher, but Minho had nothing. He did odd jobs, building work for friends and past colleagues, but mostly he was a non-entity, slumming in Kibum’s apartment because he couldn’t afford his own place, living off of government handouts and money from his parents. It was embarrassing, really, and Minho realised Kibum must have been an angel to have put up for it as long as he did.
“Joon,” he called to the bartender as he watched him taking stock, “do you have any newspapers?” Joon frowned in confusion but pointed to a stack at the edge of the bar, and Minho grabbed the whole stack.
Out of everyone that he’d phoned, bordering fifty people, he only heard back from five, three of which were to inform him that his CV was far too appalling for them to even consider him as a mailman, the other two genuine interviews. He shifted slightly in Jinki’s bedroom as he fixed his tie again.
“Thank you,” he repeated to Jinki.
“It’s no problem, seriously,” Jinki replied, “I’m glad you’re sorting your life out,” Minho smiled slightly, feeling a sense of achievement already, “what Kibum said must have been pretty hard hitting.” Minho knew that Jinki was hinting for him to tell him but it still stung, even though he knew Kibum was right. It stung that he wasn’t good enough, that Kibum was almost embarrassed to be with him, but it spurred him on with a determination he’d never felt in his life.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call him?” Jinki asked, fiddling with his own phone on the bed.
“Yeah I’m sure,” Minho grinned as he fixed the lapels of the suit he’d borrowed from Jinki, “I want to see his face when I tell him that I’ve sorted myself out.”
He bombed the interview, and ended up talking about something totally different to what the interviewer wanted, and he sighed as the headmistress of the school told him that he had been unsuccessful in his application. He stood to shake her hand and thank her for the opportunity but she stopped him, asking him to take a seat again.
“You applied for a job in our finance department,” she continued, “this confuses me, we have other vacancies that would be far more suitable to your skillset.” Minho frowned.
“I didn’t see any other openings...”
“We have an opening that I think would be very suitable to you,” she smiled kindly, shuffling through her briefcase and handing him a job brief, “read through it, it’s yours if you’re interested.”
It was a job as the school’s sports coach, with full time employment and decent pay, and Minho’s eyes bugged out of his head.
“Are you serious?” She nodded and smiled at him.
Minho found himself in front of Kibum’s house just an hour after signing the contract, and he shifted on his feet nervously as he rang the doorbell. It opened and Kibum’s eyes nearly bugged out.
“Why are you wearing a suit?”
“Can I come in?” Kibum nodded and let him into the flat, offering to take his jacket. Minho smiled as he watched him hang it up, struggling slightly with the height.
“I got a job,” he announced as Kibum struggled, and the other man turned in shock, mouth dropping open.
“What?”
“ What you said,” Minho murmured, moving closer to Kibum, “it was true and I knew it … I just needed someone to say it …”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were looking for a job? I thought you were angry at me...”
“I didn’t really have a right to be angry with you,” Minho smiled as he rested his hands on Kibum’s hips, “but I wanted it to be a surprise.” He grinned before exclaiming “surprise!”
Kibum giggled and bit his lip, tangling on of his hands with one of Minho’s.
“What job is it?”
“Sports coach,” Minho grinned, “at the high school.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah … it pays a lot so I can, you know, move out if you want me to.” Kibum blushed.
“I don’t want you to move out, you idiot,” he muttered as he was pulled close to Minho.
“Good, because I now have the urge to get very domestic with you,” Minho grinned, nipping at Kibum’s ear.
“Only you could make the word domestic sound rude,” Kibum gasped as the nips turned into kisses.
“Damn right,” Minho murmured into his neck, “what do you say to getting a bit domestic?” He grinned, “I haven’t seen you in two weeks, baby, I’m desperate.”
Kibum smirked, “maybe I’m still angry at you,” he started in jest but Minho glanced up, genuinely worried, “maybe I should make you wait until you can prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove it?!” Minho was desperate now and it took everything Kibum had not to laugh.
“I’m joking,” he grinned and Minho relaxed, his arms looping around Kibum tighter as he nipped at his collarbone in defiance.
“Let’s go get domestic,” Minho smirked, picking Kibum up.
Author: heteroshinee
Pairing(s): Minho/Key
Rating: PG-15
Summary: “No, Minho, I’m giving you up because you’re ruining your life and I love you too much to watch you do it.”
Warnings: hints to drug use.
There was a cheer as another dart hit the board, the group now in no state to hit the actual board, and Minho smirked, twirling his phone around in his hand. His vision blurred and he slumped forward before correcting himself, scratching his forehead before pouring himself another shot and throwing it back down his throat. It was already three AM and all of his texts had been left unanswered. He sniffed before slumping back in his seat and typing out another one.
To: Kibum
oi, answefsr my txts btch
Sent: 03:28
The clock was ticking backwards and Minho watched it in confusion, the hands waltzing around each other. He reached for the tequila again but another hand batted his away.
“Dude, I think you’ve had enough,” Taemin grabbed the bottle and poured himself a shot, shifting as a dead weight fell onto his lap. “And so has he apparently. Why am I the only one that can hold my liquor?”
Minho scoffed.
“Liquor’s for pansies,” he muttered under his breath as he watched Jonghyun steal the tequila bottle from his place slumped on Taemin’s lap. He was the worst of the lot so Minho figured it was his ‘moral duty’ to remove the alcohol from him. He smirked, grabbing the bottle and spilling some on the leather couch before taking a gulp himself. Taemin scrunched up his nose in disgust as Jonghyun licked up the spilt liquid before resting his cheek in the sticky residue.
Minho’s phone buzzed and he grabbed at it eagerly.
“Someone’s eager to get laid,” Taemin scoffed, pulling Jonghyun’s head up from the sofa with a grimace on his face. Jonghyun shifted slightly and face planted straight into Taemin’s crotch.
From: Kibum
Fuck off, Minho.
Received: 03:35
Minho frowned, glaring at the screen and the fuzzy letters. He heard another scoff as Jinki sat down next to him before placing a few bottles of beer on the side.
“What did you do?”
“No fucking idea,” Minho glared again before stealing one of Jinki’s beers, fingers tapping on the screen of his phone. “Fuck it.”
The first few rings went straight through to voicemail as Kibum screened his calls but the fifth or sixth went through and he found himself on the line with a very pissed Kibum.
“What do you want, Minho?”
Minho grinned, “you know what I want.”
“Yeah well forget about it.”
“Fuck off Minho, I have work tomorrow morning.”
“You can skip it.”
“Grow the fuck up, some of us actually have responsibilities.”
Minho listened to Kibum sigh angrily and in the background he could hear the radio playing softly.
“Are you at home?”
“Yes. Don’t you dare think about coming over though.” Minho was already stood up, stumbling through the pub towards the exit as the door blurred in his sight. He leant on the wall but fell back as it opened up, turning out to be a door that led to a UV lit bathroom. He squinted at the purple as it washed through his vision.
“Baby why are you being so mean?” He murmured as he met his own reflection in the mirror and it morphed to Kibum’s face, beckoning him with a curling finger.
“Minho …” Kibum sighed and Minho could hear him shuffle uncomfortably, “why did you phone me?”
“I want to see you.”
“Funny that,” Kibum scoffed, “you only ever want to do that when you’re high.”
“Ki-”
“Bye Minho.” The phone connection dropped and Minho swore out loud. Storming bac kto the table, he grabbed his jacket, sending a glare towards Taemin and Jonghyun who were half way between making out and eating each other.
“I’m going,” he declared and Jinki shrugged, taking another sip of his beer as his eyes trailed over to the figure of the bartender.
He stumbled out of the exit and the cool air hit him suddenly, chilling him to the bone. He squinted left and right, suddenly unsure of where he was. The streetlamp across the road flickered and went out, bathing the street in a blanket of darkness and Minho stumbled left, hoping he was headed in the right direction.
~~~
He woke up the next morning and everything ached, his head pounded and his throat was the driest it had ever been. He grunted as he suddenly fell backwards, pain shooting across his forehead as his head hit the ground.
“Fuck,” he mumbled.
“What the fuck?” He heard a familiar voice and Kibum was behind him, stood in the entrance of his house, dressed for work with a pair of car keys clutched in his right hand. “Have you been here all night?”
“Can’t remember,” he mumbled as he dragged himself into Kibum’s house, despite protest. He helped himself to a glass of water and paracetamol as Kibum stood by the doorway angrily.
“I can’t keep doing this, Minho.” Kibum ripped the glass from Minho’s grasp as he moved to the sink to wash it, the lines of his neck and shoulders pin straight with tension. Minho stilled in the silence.
“What are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying, I can’t keep doing this,” his hands stilled on the glass.
“Fucking hell, Key, I’m just having fun. You did it too, unless you’re conveniently forgetting?”
“Yeah I did,” Kibum had turned around now and was glaring without any hesitation, “but I fucking grew up, because I refused to let myself spiral into that kind of shit again. What the fuck did you even take yesterday?”
Minho shrugged and Kibum sighed, eyes glancing to the watch on his wrist.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced, heading to the door, but Minho pulled him back.
“So let me get this right,” he muttered into his ear, “you’re giving this up, giving me up, because you’re on a fucking high horse all of a sudden?”
“No, Minho, I’m giving you up because you’re ruining your life and I love you too much to watch you do it.” Minho caught Kibum’s eyes and they were teary, but he was gone in a split second and Minho swore under his breath.
He found himself back in the pub, ironically enough, with a glass of orange juice because Kibum’s word were reverberating in his head and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Jinki had a stable career in some law firm downtown, Taemin taught dance and Jonghyun was training to become a music teacher, but Minho had nothing. He did odd jobs, building work for friends and past colleagues, but mostly he was a non-entity, slumming in Kibum’s apartment because he couldn’t afford his own place, living off of government handouts and money from his parents. It was embarrassing, really, and Minho realised Kibum must have been an angel to have put up for it as long as he did.
“Joon,” he called to the bartender as he watched him taking stock, “do you have any newspapers?” Joon frowned in confusion but pointed to a stack at the edge of the bar, and Minho grabbed the whole stack.
Out of everyone that he’d phoned, bordering fifty people, he only heard back from five, three of which were to inform him that his CV was far too appalling for them to even consider him as a mailman, the other two genuine interviews. He shifted slightly in Jinki’s bedroom as he fixed his tie again.
“Thank you,” he repeated to Jinki.
“It’s no problem, seriously,” Jinki replied, “I’m glad you’re sorting your life out,” Minho smiled slightly, feeling a sense of achievement already, “what Kibum said must have been pretty hard hitting.” Minho knew that Jinki was hinting for him to tell him but it still stung, even though he knew Kibum was right. It stung that he wasn’t good enough, that Kibum was almost embarrassed to be with him, but it spurred him on with a determination he’d never felt in his life.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call him?” Jinki asked, fiddling with his own phone on the bed.
“Yeah I’m sure,” Minho grinned as he fixed the lapels of the suit he’d borrowed from Jinki, “I want to see his face when I tell him that I’ve sorted myself out.”
He bombed the interview, and ended up talking about something totally different to what the interviewer wanted, and he sighed as the headmistress of the school told him that he had been unsuccessful in his application. He stood to shake her hand and thank her for the opportunity but she stopped him, asking him to take a seat again.
“You applied for a job in our finance department,” she continued, “this confuses me, we have other vacancies that would be far more suitable to your skillset.” Minho frowned.
“I didn’t see any other openings...”
“We have an opening that I think would be very suitable to you,” she smiled kindly, shuffling through her briefcase and handing him a job brief, “read through it, it’s yours if you’re interested.”
It was a job as the school’s sports coach, with full time employment and decent pay, and Minho’s eyes bugged out of his head.
“Are you serious?” She nodded and smiled at him.
Minho found himself in front of Kibum’s house just an hour after signing the contract, and he shifted on his feet nervously as he rang the doorbell. It opened and Kibum’s eyes nearly bugged out.
“Why are you wearing a suit?”
“Can I come in?” Kibum nodded and let him into the flat, offering to take his jacket. Minho smiled as he watched him hang it up, struggling slightly with the height.
“I got a job,” he announced as Kibum struggled, and the other man turned in shock, mouth dropping open.
“What?”
“ What you said,” Minho murmured, moving closer to Kibum, “it was true and I knew it … I just needed someone to say it …”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were looking for a job? I thought you were angry at me...”
“I didn’t really have a right to be angry with you,” Minho smiled as he rested his hands on Kibum’s hips, “but I wanted it to be a surprise.” He grinned before exclaiming “surprise!”
Kibum giggled and bit his lip, tangling on of his hands with one of Minho’s.
“What job is it?”
“Sports coach,” Minho grinned, “at the high school.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah … it pays a lot so I can, you know, move out if you want me to.” Kibum blushed.
“I don’t want you to move out, you idiot,” he muttered as he was pulled close to Minho.
“Good, because I now have the urge to get very domestic with you,” Minho grinned, nipping at Kibum’s ear.
“Only you could make the word domestic sound rude,” Kibum gasped as the nips turned into kisses.
“Damn right,” Minho murmured into his neck, “what do you say to getting a bit domestic?” He grinned, “I haven’t seen you in two weeks, baby, I’m desperate.”
Kibum smirked, “maybe I’m still angry at you,” he started in jest but Minho glanced up, genuinely worried, “maybe I should make you wait until you can prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove it?!” Minho was desperate now and it took everything Kibum had not to laugh.
“I’m joking,” he grinned and Minho relaxed, his arms looping around Kibum tighter as he nipped at his collarbone in defiance.
“Let’s go get domestic,” Minho smirked, picking Kibum up.