Past Midnight
rating: PG
genre: AU
pairing: minseok/suho
length: drabble
word count: ~1.7k wc
summary: in which minseok is a recovering alcoholic.
Past Midnight
A story by Yoonis
Minseok will admit to being an alcoholic, but he'll be fucking damned if he was going to admit to being a cliché.
That said, he was kicking snow banks left and right on the sidewalk in front of a shawarma deli at 2 - no, 3 am? Oh, and he was also trying to convince himself that the beer he had earlier at the bar was enough to get him intoxicated. Minseok crept along the line that sliced the sidewalk into even squares, toe to heel, arms abducted at his sides. He folded one arm closer to poke the side of his nose then released and did the same with the other finger - a standard sobriety test that he was passing with flying colors. If the colors were just black, white, and the occasional grey. Sobriety was kind of lonely. He should know, having spent a month under its influence for a change.
Minseok missed the step where the sidewalk ended and lost his balance, nearly breaking his neck had he not caught himself, a hand on the parking meter poll. Looking up, his gazed locked with someone else's from across the road, just a pair of owlish eyes resting between half flushed cheeks and an oversized, deep orange scarf that swallowed half his face. Between the twin telescopes he used for eyes and the color of his scarf against the dimly lit street, he wasn't that difficult to miss.
"I'm fine!" Minseok said even when the stranger didn't ask. Maybe he was about to in the 7 seconds that he just stood there, staring. Anyway, it was good that he knew in case he was wondering. The more he remained unmoving in the distance, the more he seemed like a life size cardboard display. "Can I help you?"
The boy looked over his shoulder then back up at Minseok. He pinched the front of his scarf and tugged it down just enough to show his mouth while his chin was still buried in the fabric. "No, sorry." He sounded embarrassed. "For a second, I thought I recognized you. You look like this kid I went to school with."
"Did he also just get out of rehab?" Sure, it was a personal matter that he probably shouldn't have offered just like that. But just a month ago, he stepped in front of a bunch of drunks and said that he was one of them. At least to this guy, he was an ex-drunk.
"No," The guy replied. He looked over his shoulder again.
"If you're with someone, you don't have to stay here and keep me company. I'm fine. I just -"
"What were you in for?" The guy said over him.
"Oh, uh, alcoholism."
The guy had equally thick eyebrows to frame his eyes, and they furrowed at the mention of alcoholism. Minseok was automatically defensive for that split second. Then the guy asked, "but didn't you just come from that bar?"
Minseok, slightly taken aback, glanced at the bar he just walked out of, two stores down from where he was stood. "You were watching me?"
"Yeah, but not on purpose." He drew his shoulders up, hands dug deep in the front pockets of his jacket. "I look at a lot of people."
I bet, Minseok thought as he nodded. "Yeah, I had one beer."
"So you... are off the wagon?"
"Well, no. I just haven't quit cold turkey. I have these chips and a schedule that spaces out my alcohol consumption. Plus I picked up a few hobbies to take my mind off it and got two jobs," Minseok exhaled a thin cloud of breath. "It's a whole thing."
"What hobby did you pick up?"
"Huh?"
"You said you picked up a few hobbies."
Minseok supposed that they were really doing it; they were having an impromptu conversation with a quiet road in between them. This was how he was going to end his first night out of rehab, on a Wednesday. "Right. Crocheting."
"No shit." He sounded genuinely pleased. "Are you any good?"
"You tell me." Minseok held up his hand where he wore his attempt at fingerless gloves. It was unfinished, and only three of his fingers were poking through the knitted holes. The rest left his hand bare and with the amount of stray yarns, it was a mystery that it was even hugging his hand at all.
"So that's a no."
Minseok grinned, looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular. He supposed he needed a taxi, but he was sort of okay with the peaceful, empty end of the street. It was like there wasn't a sign of life for miles away. He looked back at the stranger. He was looking back at him, curious. Minseok averted his gaze to the lamp post to his right. He'd cower behind it but he knew he wouldn't be invisible, even then. "Gambling and smoking have been the most effective."
"Are you kidding?"
"Yeah." Minseok answered instantly. "I don't have enough money to gamble."
"Do you have some on you right now?"
"I never have money. Now or tomorrow."
He heard the other honest-to-god chuckle. "No, I meant a cigarette."
Minseok patted the front of his coat. "Yeah, do -"
The guy was crossing the street when Minseok looked up again. It was so odd; it was as though he was watching this guy step out of a computer screen. Which has been his main non-alcoholic related human interaction in the past month - just texts on a screen.
"Hey," he said as soon as he was closer. "Can I bum one?"
"Sure." Minseok offered him the pack.
"I'm Junmyeon, by the way."
Minseok was learning so much already. His name was Junmyeon. He smoked. And he had long ass, pale ass fingers that slipped out of his navy blue gloves. He took long drags of his cigarette as though he was making the most of it and his lips looked like they needed to learn the benefits of proper hydration.
"I'm Minseok."
"I thought it was No Longer An Alcoholic." He was funny too. Offensive funny.
"You smoke a lot?"
"Oh, excuse you."
"No," Minseok smiled. "I was asking."
"Oh," Junmyeon said in a way that made Minseok realize that he knew what he meant pre-explanation. "I used to. I'm trying to quit."
"Story of my life."
"So what did you learn?" Junmyeon asked while Minseok lit a cigarette for himself. "In rehab."
"That I have an addictive personality."
"A little conceited. Thinking that your personality is addictive."
"That's your worst one yet." Minseok shook his head.
"Yeah." Junmyeon agreed. "How do you cure an addictive personality?
"You don't." Minseok tilted his head to the side slightly as he observed Junmyeon try to sweep the snow back into the formation they once were before Minseok came around. "You just topple your old, bad addiction with a new, healthier one."
"Smoking is bad for you," Junmyeon said.
"So is talking to strangers. You could be a fucking con artist for all I know."
Junmyeon smiled at that. "Aw, you think I could pass for a con artist?"
"That's a tricky question."
"I'm not offended."
"That's not what I meant." Minseok took a couple of last puffs from his cigarette and killed it under his boots before flicking it wherever. "I meant that aren't you supposed to not look like a con artist to be a good con artist?"
Junmyeon squinted. "So you're saying I look lowkey devious?"
"I don't know." Junmyeon was maybe just an inch shorter than he was but it was a debatable discrepancy, so Minseok wasn't about to bring that up, even casually. Junmyeon seemed like the type to argue something until his throat gave in. "You look nice."
Minseok had only really ever had one serious relationship, and he slit its neck and let it die slowly and terribly. He thought about his ex when he was in bed with random one night stands though; mostly things like "he would have hated that there," or "we'd be watching a rerun of Friends by this hour." His ex was also just slightly smaller when he stood next to him, much like Junmyeon, but they looked nothing alike. With that thought, he felt himself leaning in.
"I have a boyfriend," Junmyeon said quietly, more to Minseok's lips, it seemed like.
Junmyeon's breath reeked of tobacco. "Oh?"
"He's here."
Minseok took a step back. "Oh."
"In there." He gestured vaguely at one of the three restaurants cramped together from his former side of the street.
"Can he see us?"
"Obviously not."
"He doesn't like you smoking?"
Junmyeon shook his head. "I think he'd be more alarmed by me kissing a stranger though."
"Right, yeah. That would suck." Minseok laughed. "For him."
Minseok didn't know where to go from there. He'd be embarrassed but he felt as though he'd already done and said far more embarrassing things just within that hour. Junmyeon offered him another smile, but he couldn't read this one. He had to promptly remind himself that he didn't read people very well anyway. A second ago, he thought Junmyeon liked him.
"I need to head back." Junmyeon finally said. He stuck his cigarette, head first, on the tip of the snow bank he recreated, like the main ornament on top of a Christmas tree. "Thank you for the cigarette."
"Don't mention it."
"Good luck with crocheting."
"You too." Minseok immediately regretted that as he said it because what the fuck. "I mean -"
"No, I know what you mean." Junmyeon waved his comment off like a stray fly.
He padded off the opposite side of the road, disappearing inside the door of the middle restaurant. Minseok lit another cigarette and stood in the cold for a few more minutes, just breathing both corrupted and cold air. He was half convinced to call a buddy of his and see if he could crash at their place for the night, but decided against it when he imagined his buddy's fridge stocked with beer. He was fine, just a work in progress. And this work in progress preferred to sleep in an alcohol-free space for now.
He flicked his cigarette away and was about ready to leave. A few steps forward and he paused, spun on his heel and headed back to snap a picture of the snow bank with the cigarette on it. It didn't photograph well, but he could fix that.
a/n: this is pretty tl;dr so feel free to skip. this fic is heavily inspired by shameless, season 7. apart from being in love with lip, i've been kind of in a rut lately. if you've been a long time reader of mine, you'd probably think that i'm out of the fandom by now. you're not totally wrong. one thing i'm still v much in is writing. i'm just stuck, i think. i'm trying to get back into it and i've been working on something monsterous, but it's with original characters. i'm trying my hand at this thing called "originality." i know. i'm insane. that said, any advice on writer's block annihilation will be much appreciated. discussions in the comment section is welcome. i'll be around. c"
genre: AU
pairing: minseok/suho
length: drabble
word count: ~1.7k wc
summary: in which minseok is a recovering alcoholic.
Past Midnight
A story by Yoonis
Minseok will admit to being an alcoholic, but he'll be fucking damned if he was going to admit to being a cliché.
That said, he was kicking snow banks left and right on the sidewalk in front of a shawarma deli at 2 - no, 3 am? Oh, and he was also trying to convince himself that the beer he had earlier at the bar was enough to get him intoxicated. Minseok crept along the line that sliced the sidewalk into even squares, toe to heel, arms abducted at his sides. He folded one arm closer to poke the side of his nose then released and did the same with the other finger - a standard sobriety test that he was passing with flying colors. If the colors were just black, white, and the occasional grey. Sobriety was kind of lonely. He should know, having spent a month under its influence for a change.
Minseok missed the step where the sidewalk ended and lost his balance, nearly breaking his neck had he not caught himself, a hand on the parking meter poll. Looking up, his gazed locked with someone else's from across the road, just a pair of owlish eyes resting between half flushed cheeks and an oversized, deep orange scarf that swallowed half his face. Between the twin telescopes he used for eyes and the color of his scarf against the dimly lit street, he wasn't that difficult to miss.
"I'm fine!" Minseok said even when the stranger didn't ask. Maybe he was about to in the 7 seconds that he just stood there, staring. Anyway, it was good that he knew in case he was wondering. The more he remained unmoving in the distance, the more he seemed like a life size cardboard display. "Can I help you?"
The boy looked over his shoulder then back up at Minseok. He pinched the front of his scarf and tugged it down just enough to show his mouth while his chin was still buried in the fabric. "No, sorry." He sounded embarrassed. "For a second, I thought I recognized you. You look like this kid I went to school with."
"Did he also just get out of rehab?" Sure, it was a personal matter that he probably shouldn't have offered just like that. But just a month ago, he stepped in front of a bunch of drunks and said that he was one of them. At least to this guy, he was an ex-drunk.
"No," The guy replied. He looked over his shoulder again.
"If you're with someone, you don't have to stay here and keep me company. I'm fine. I just -"
"What were you in for?" The guy said over him.
"Oh, uh, alcoholism."
The guy had equally thick eyebrows to frame his eyes, and they furrowed at the mention of alcoholism. Minseok was automatically defensive for that split second. Then the guy asked, "but didn't you just come from that bar?"
Minseok, slightly taken aback, glanced at the bar he just walked out of, two stores down from where he was stood. "You were watching me?"
"Yeah, but not on purpose." He drew his shoulders up, hands dug deep in the front pockets of his jacket. "I look at a lot of people."
I bet, Minseok thought as he nodded. "Yeah, I had one beer."
"So you... are off the wagon?"
"Well, no. I just haven't quit cold turkey. I have these chips and a schedule that spaces out my alcohol consumption. Plus I picked up a few hobbies to take my mind off it and got two jobs," Minseok exhaled a thin cloud of breath. "It's a whole thing."
"What hobby did you pick up?"
"Huh?"
"You said you picked up a few hobbies."
Minseok supposed that they were really doing it; they were having an impromptu conversation with a quiet road in between them. This was how he was going to end his first night out of rehab, on a Wednesday. "Right. Crocheting."
"No shit." He sounded genuinely pleased. "Are you any good?"
"You tell me." Minseok held up his hand where he wore his attempt at fingerless gloves. It was unfinished, and only three of his fingers were poking through the knitted holes. The rest left his hand bare and with the amount of stray yarns, it was a mystery that it was even hugging his hand at all.
"So that's a no."
Minseok grinned, looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular. He supposed he needed a taxi, but he was sort of okay with the peaceful, empty end of the street. It was like there wasn't a sign of life for miles away. He looked back at the stranger. He was looking back at him, curious. Minseok averted his gaze to the lamp post to his right. He'd cower behind it but he knew he wouldn't be invisible, even then. "Gambling and smoking have been the most effective."
"Are you kidding?"
"Yeah." Minseok answered instantly. "I don't have enough money to gamble."
"Do you have some on you right now?"
"I never have money. Now or tomorrow."
He heard the other honest-to-god chuckle. "No, I meant a cigarette."
Minseok patted the front of his coat. "Yeah, do -"
The guy was crossing the street when Minseok looked up again. It was so odd; it was as though he was watching this guy step out of a computer screen. Which has been his main non-alcoholic related human interaction in the past month - just texts on a screen.
"Hey," he said as soon as he was closer. "Can I bum one?"
"Sure." Minseok offered him the pack.
"I'm Junmyeon, by the way."
Minseok was learning so much already. His name was Junmyeon. He smoked. And he had long ass, pale ass fingers that slipped out of his navy blue gloves. He took long drags of his cigarette as though he was making the most of it and his lips looked like they needed to learn the benefits of proper hydration.
"I'm Minseok."
"I thought it was No Longer An Alcoholic." He was funny too. Offensive funny.
"You smoke a lot?"
"Oh, excuse you."
"No," Minseok smiled. "I was asking."
"Oh," Junmyeon said in a way that made Minseok realize that he knew what he meant pre-explanation. "I used to. I'm trying to quit."
"Story of my life."
"So what did you learn?" Junmyeon asked while Minseok lit a cigarette for himself. "In rehab."
"That I have an addictive personality."
"A little conceited. Thinking that your personality is addictive."
"That's your worst one yet." Minseok shook his head.
"Yeah." Junmyeon agreed. "How do you cure an addictive personality?
"You don't." Minseok tilted his head to the side slightly as he observed Junmyeon try to sweep the snow back into the formation they once were before Minseok came around. "You just topple your old, bad addiction with a new, healthier one."
"Smoking is bad for you," Junmyeon said.
"So is talking to strangers. You could be a fucking con artist for all I know."
Junmyeon smiled at that. "Aw, you think I could pass for a con artist?"
"That's a tricky question."
"I'm not offended."
"That's not what I meant." Minseok took a couple of last puffs from his cigarette and killed it under his boots before flicking it wherever. "I meant that aren't you supposed to not look like a con artist to be a good con artist?"
Junmyeon squinted. "So you're saying I look lowkey devious?"
"I don't know." Junmyeon was maybe just an inch shorter than he was but it was a debatable discrepancy, so Minseok wasn't about to bring that up, even casually. Junmyeon seemed like the type to argue something until his throat gave in. "You look nice."
Minseok had only really ever had one serious relationship, and he slit its neck and let it die slowly and terribly. He thought about his ex when he was in bed with random one night stands though; mostly things like "he would have hated that there," or "we'd be watching a rerun of Friends by this hour." His ex was also just slightly smaller when he stood next to him, much like Junmyeon, but they looked nothing alike. With that thought, he felt himself leaning in.
"I have a boyfriend," Junmyeon said quietly, more to Minseok's lips, it seemed like.
Junmyeon's breath reeked of tobacco. "Oh?"
"He's here."
Minseok took a step back. "Oh."
"In there." He gestured vaguely at one of the three restaurants cramped together from his former side of the street.
"Can he see us?"
"Obviously not."
"He doesn't like you smoking?"
Junmyeon shook his head. "I think he'd be more alarmed by me kissing a stranger though."
"Right, yeah. That would suck." Minseok laughed. "For him."
Minseok didn't know where to go from there. He'd be embarrassed but he felt as though he'd already done and said far more embarrassing things just within that hour. Junmyeon offered him another smile, but he couldn't read this one. He had to promptly remind himself that he didn't read people very well anyway. A second ago, he thought Junmyeon liked him.
"I need to head back." Junmyeon finally said. He stuck his cigarette, head first, on the tip of the snow bank he recreated, like the main ornament on top of a Christmas tree. "Thank you for the cigarette."
"Don't mention it."
"Good luck with crocheting."
"You too." Minseok immediately regretted that as he said it because what the fuck. "I mean -"
"No, I know what you mean." Junmyeon waved his comment off like a stray fly.
He padded off the opposite side of the road, disappearing inside the door of the middle restaurant. Minseok lit another cigarette and stood in the cold for a few more minutes, just breathing both corrupted and cold air. He was half convinced to call a buddy of his and see if he could crash at their place for the night, but decided against it when he imagined his buddy's fridge stocked with beer. He was fine, just a work in progress. And this work in progress preferred to sleep in an alcohol-free space for now.
He flicked his cigarette away and was about ready to leave. A few steps forward and he paused, spun on his heel and headed back to snap a picture of the snow bank with the cigarette on it. It didn't photograph well, but he could fix that.
a/n: this is pretty tl;dr so feel free to skip. this fic is heavily inspired by shameless, season 7. apart from being in love with lip, i've been kind of in a rut lately. if you've been a long time reader of mine, you'd probably think that i'm out of the fandom by now. you're not totally wrong. one thing i'm still v much in is writing. i'm just stuck, i think. i'm trying to get back into it and i've been working on something monsterous, but it's with original characters. i'm trying my hand at this thing called "originality." i know. i'm insane. that said, any advice on writer's block annihilation will be much appreciated. discussions in the comment section is welcome. i'll be around. c"