a shot of mercury to my veins [ fic ]
mercury in my veins, part 2
gd/top (+ yb/seungri) | nc-17, 5934 words, au
jiyong's an addict to more than just the cocaine.
these nights are notable and priceless,
i swear that every word i say i mean until my dying day
it's a shame when i wake i can't recall a thing
KNIGHTS/DAVE MELILLO
Jiyong slams the door behind him and heads for Sixth and Larkspur in a foul mood. The day has been a complete nightmare, and he just wants to get this next part over with. He usually avoids parties like this especially when Ok Taecyeon is the one hosting and even more so because he knows what goes on inside, but he's already running low in his supply again and God be damned if he's going to go crawling back to Seunghyun's house at least until his pride stops hurting like a bitch.
He'd called one of his contacts earlier out of desperation, someone who'd previously been one of Seunghyun's buyers until he'd started dealing himself. Jiyong had asked Changbae if he could ease some cocaine off him, but Changbae wouldn't even let Jiyong finish his damn sentence before cutting him off.
"You know I can't do that, man," he'd said, and Jiyong had frowned.
"Why the hell not?"
"You're one of Seunghyun's. He'd kill me."
"You were one of his too, you moron, and I don't see you with a bullet in your dumbass head," Jiyong had retorted, sick of always being known around town as "Seunghyun's" like he was somebody's bitch. It was bad enough he thought that himself sometimes.
"Nah, but," and here Changbae had paused before saying, in an almost embarrassed tone like he knew something he wasn't supposed to and was ashamed to actually be voicing it out loud, "You're different. You know."
"Different." Jiyong repeated scathingly.
"Shit, Ji, don't make me say it," the boy had said, a nervous laugh forcing its way from his throat.
Jiyong had paused before saying, "How did you even get the balls to deal, Bae? You can't even tell a guy to his face why the fuck you think he's so ‘different'." He knew that he probably shouldn't be so harsh since Changbae was generally a nice guy, but his head was pounding something fierce inside his skull and he didn't exactly give a damn about anybody else's feelings right now. Besides, pussies had to be talked down to to respond.
In the end, Changbae had reluctantly given Jiyong the location of another dealer: somebody named Jay who Jiyong had never heard of. "And what happens when Seunghyun comes to kill him?" Jiyong had asked sarcastically, but Changbae had matter-of-factly told Jiyong that Jay didn't exactly care about threats, nor did he usually receive any that panned out. Jay supposedly was going to be at Taecyeon's party scoping out new buyers, and Changbae had given Jiyong the address of the house it would be held at.
"Just don't tell anybody you heard this from me, aight?" he'd said, and Jiyong had growled a "yea, yea" before promptly deleting the pansy's number from his address book before savagely stuffing the mobile back into his pants pocket. His fingertips brushed against the corner of a small plastic bag, and Jiyong's fist closed around the white sand inside, now barely a thimbleful.
If conditions were better, Jiyong would buy a month's or two's supply at a time, which would mean less visits to Seunghyun's and less interaction with the man. But money was not a luxury Jiyong was privy to these days, and he barely made it week to week without having to stop off at that dark door with the creaky screen and the assholes inside it at least once.
And quitting was not an option.
On top of all of this, Jiyong's cell phone had vibrated twice early that morning, and when he had groggily rolled over on his mattress, still in the middle of working off the edge of a high, and checked the caller ID, found that the letters spelled out Jang Wooyoung. Fully jerking awake, he'd pressed ignore repeatedly. Sleep eluded him after that though he usually slept till the middle of the afternoon.
Wooyoung had been Jiyong's childhood best friend, back once upon a time when he lived that white-picket-fence, mommy-daddy-golden-retriever life and of which was now completely alien to him. Wooyoung hadn't called in over a year, and last he heard the boy was attending a prestigious engineering university up north. He had no idea why he was trying to contact him now, especially as Wooyoung was one of the first to ditch Jiyong after he ran away. However, whenever anybody from his previous life now long lost tried to get in touch, it was always to broken-record him the same message: come back to us, we'll put you in rehab, we miss you, come back and conform to the life you were supposed to live like a good little boy. It would more times than not end in a screaming match, and off put Jiyong from everything else for the rest of the day.
Wooyoung's calls went ignored this morning, but all the same, Jiyong had stayed on his tiny balcony for the rest of the day with some weed to help calm him down before he'd gone back into the house to snort and had discovered his supply of coke was low.
And now he is here in the darkness of the stifling summer heat, stepping off the last concrete steps to his apartment building with a fistful of bills in his hand and not even one goddamn idea as to what the fuck he's doing.
Usually Jiyong prides himself on the clothes on his back because they're basically all he has to his name and he makes sure to be fucking loud about it, but in an effort to stay low profile, he's gone instead for all black save for his white shoes. He is wearing the thinnest long sleeve with a hood he could dig up in his closet, but still now he's thinking it might have been a mistake as the heat clings to him like a magnet. But as he trudges down the street and passes a couple of sketch looking guys squatting on the corner, he is thankful he has it, and pulls the hood of the jacket low over his eyes.
Ok Taecyeon's party house tonight is somewhere in a neighborhood up University Hill, and at first Jiyong has no fucking idea what the hell the man was thinking hosting something like this in a high-security college area - but as he turns a corner and peers suspiciously down the street, he all of the sudden understands.
Raging frat parties are happening up and down the boulevard, the bass music making Jiyong's feet vibrate in his shoes, scantily clad girls running from house to house in groups, and frat brothers chucking empty party cups into the road. Campus police mill around with no apparent purpose, every once in a while telling random people to get back on the sidewalk and generally ignoring the abundant cases of underage drinking and smoking that is happening. Jiyong sees one of them even accept a beer from a boy who tosses it down to him from a balcony of a house, and realizes that Taecyeon's done another one of his strategies: hide in the obvious. There is no way these sorry excuses of police will come investigate Number 3492, just another basement party of many - unless some motherfucking idiot skips outside waving his packets of cocaine in their faces.
Jiyong weaves his way around the crowds of stumbling teenagers, well aware that in another life this could've been him, smoking and drinking the cheap crap they provide at these things and thinking he's all hardcore and shit. It doesn't actually seem that unappealing to him for a second. A few girls in stilettos and slinky dresses eye him interestedly, but he ignores them and walks up the steps of a gray stone house with white pillars, and knocks.
It opens after a second, and a guy in a jersey pokes his head out. "Yea?" He looks Jiyong up and down for a second before raising an eyebrow. "Invite only, kid."
"I know," Jiyong says, rolling his eyes. He's often mistaken to be younger than he actually is, given his smallish frame and innocent face. "Fox is down under," he tells the jersey guy, who blinks before stumbling aside and letting Jiyong in. The code to get into Taecyeon's parties never make any damn sense, but Seunghyun once told him they always have to do with the last girl Taec fucked.
They're standing in a dimly lit landing. The first floor looks like an 80-year-old Victorian woman furnished it, and it's very, very empty. Without invitation from the boy manning the door, Jiyong pushes past him and heads towards the direction of the noises he hears and after opening a door, heads down a narrow flight of stairs.
As soon as he hits the bottom step the haze of smoke hits him like a slap in the face, and all of the sudden, Jiyong is in the Florida tropics. Rap music is playing so loudly he can barely hear himself think, and strobe lights are fixed in the corners of the low-ceiling, expansive basement, but this is mostly just to blend in with the other houses, as the curtains on the windows are thrown wide open instead of being boarded up like they usually are. The same kind of furniture upstairs is down here, and Jiyong is almost tempted to laugh as he sees the paradoxical nature of trashy people sitting on intricately decorated couches, flowery chairs, and leaning against the gold wallpaper.
He spots Ok Taecyeon almost immediately, the tall host sitting on the edge of a pool table with no regard to the two guys actually trying to play as he flirts with a girl with thick, curly hair. Taecyeon seems to sense somebody watching, and his eyes flit over and connect with Jiyong's, and he grins. Jiyong tilts his chin up once in acknowledgement, then turns away before Taec can push the girl aside and come say hello. He isn't exactly dangerous as he is just lewd, and Jiyong quite frankly hates his vulgar comments and barking laughter and would just on the whole prefer to stay away from him.
Pushing his way down a hall, Jiyong walks slow and hopes to hear some giveaway clue to lead him to Jay. You never outright ask anybody who anybody is; you either have connections, or you're introduced. And as Jiyong has neither at the moment, he keeps his eyes trained for somebody who is sure to be by himself with either a bag or a long coat. The good thing is he knows most of the people, or has at least seen them before, so one of the few strangers is sure to be the guy.
However, after circling the whole basement once and not finding him, Jiyong is frustrated. His head is pounding, his eyes are burning, and he can't fucking breathe right. Under the cover of the party, unknown hands of horny girls - and guys - who are flying high have been reaching out to feel up on him, and he's had to push them roughly off, cursing under his breath. He just wants to get the fuck out of here and go home, but he can't, not yet.
All of the sudden, somebody new comes into the basement, and a few people sitting on the bottom steps are jostled out of their seats. They start to complain, but when they see who the newcomer is, their voices drop a few degrees and they scurry away. Jiyong looks through the smoke, illuminated a light gray by the strobing lights, and his stomach drops as he realizes he recognizes the messy hair and the vampire eyes. Seunghyun is in a white t-shirt and jeans, a pair of barely-tinted sunglasses over his eyes. Youngbae is with him, along with two of Seunghyun's other ‘friends' who Jiyong has only seen a couple times.
He hears a couple guys whisper something he can't hear over the music to each other as Seunghyun exchanges a brief hand greeting with Taec, who says something that makes Seunghyun actually grin crookedly before turning away. The guys standing by Jiyong look at each other, seemingly nervous, before launching themselves off the wall they were leaning against to follow in Seunghyun's wake. First-timers, and Seunghyun's usually the name that comes up when anybody asks for the good shit.
For a moment, Jiyong watches Seunghyun's retreating back, and then he catches himself and starts the other way, the need to find Jay more urgent than ever. He doesn't even want to try to deal with Seunghyun's shit tonight, and if he did, he might just fucking blow his lid and gouge Seunghyun's eyes out.
And somebody up there must pay attention to him at last, because just when Jiyong is considering going home for a dry, painful night of what is sure to be insomnia instead of possibly running into Seunghyun, he hears somebody call out, "Jay Park," and a guy with a Mohawk who is standing in a corner lift his head.
Jiyong moves closer. It's no wonder he missed Jay; the guy is dressed in all black, like himself, and had been partially blocked by a huge speaker situated to his left. He is talking to a girl, almost whispering directly into her ear, and Jiyong waits until a casual handshake with a flash of barely detectable white in between passes from him to her until he approaches him.
The girl walks away, and Jiyong leans against the wall by Jay. Jay isn't as tall as Seunghyun, but his arms bear a few coiling tattoos, and lines are shaved into the sides of his scalp, blazing lines between his hair. Jay ignores him for a few seconds before his gaze slides over to Jiyong.
"Yea, brother?" he says. Jiyong can barely hear him over the speaker.
"You're Jay?" he asks, and Jay chuckles. His voice is higher than Seunghyun's, and bears none of the latter's roughness.
"Depends on who's asking."
Jiyong turns his head a little to look down at Jay's hands shoved in the pockets of his black jeans. "You gonna sell to me or what?"
Jay arches a brow, but his face remains amused. "What, you don't already have someone?"
Jiyong knows how binding and dangerous it can be if a dealer thinks he's handling new babies, but he doesn't really want to give out his ties with Seunghyun, either. But if he spouts off some other dealer's name as a cover, there's a chance Jay knows him, and therefore call Jiyong out on the lie. So Jiyong shakes his head. "I have someone."
The grin slides a little off Jay's face, and he shifts in his stance, a little disinterested at this information. "Look, I don't really handle one-timers. Who's your regular?"
Jiyong hesitates. "Seunghyun," he finally says. "Know him?"
At this, something in Jay's eyes seems to light up, and Jiyong already takes that as a yes even before Jay confirms it vocally. "Yea, I know him," Jay says slowly, and he leans back toward Jiyong again. "What, your business go sour or some shit?"
Jiyong shrugs. "I just need my coke, all right? Can you get it to me or not?"
"Depends," Jay says casually, but his tone of voice spells yes. The corner of his mouth upturns in a sly grimace. "Won't Seunghyunnie be mad I took one of his customers for the night?"
"Probably," Jiyong shoots back. "You scared?"
This challenge is clearly unexpected to Jay, whose eyes widen in a moment of being taken aback before one hand slithers up to rub his chin as he laughs shortly under his breath. "Aight. How much you got?" he finally says, and Jiyong shows him the bills in his hand.
Jay finally pulls something out of his left pocket, and for a second Jiyong thinks they're ballpoint pens and is about to fucking punch him in the jaw for messing with him before he sees the needles and realizes what Jay's giving him.
"I don't fuckin' mainline," He says immediately. Jiyong's only injected himself a couple times in his life, and he hasn't ever gotten used to the feeling. For some reason, he can take it up the nose and smoke it and feel normal, but the moment the needle pricks the crook of his arm, he just feels criminal, guilty almost. Like he realizes he really is dependent on the shit, and there's no coming back, there's nothing lies in his future except digging deeper and deeper into this white hole. It scares him.
"Then don't take it," Jay is saying, and he's already stuffing it back in his pockets.
"Just fucking give me a bag," Jiyong snarls. "I saw you give some to that bitch you were just talking to."
"Sharp eyes," Jay observes cheerfully. "Yea, okay, you wanna suck my dick too, then? Because that's what you gotta do to get some of it straight up around here." The dealer grinned. "Aint nobody gonna sell you any otherwise."
Jiyong scowls at Jay, weighing his options. He really doesn't want to go home now that he's in sight of his cocaine, liquid or not, and he doesn't want to have wasted this whole night for nothing but a headache and dry heaves at home. "How do I know it's good?" He finally spits out.
"It's good," Jay assures him, and holds out his hand for Jiyong's money. Jiyong slaps it into his palm, and grabs the syringes with his other hand, shoving them into the pockets of his hoodie before stalking off in the direction of the bathroom to do his business.
He's almost there before he suddenly sees Seunghyun again, sitting on a pink-and-ivory couch with his arm slung around a skinny - and attractive, Jiyong has to admit - ho in a red dress who is leaning in to whisper something into his ear. A pang of unexpected - what, jealousy? Nausea? Or - something cuts Jiyong across his stomach, and he hurriedly slips into the small bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
It's the smallest excuse of a bathroom he's ever been in, and looks more like a closet somebody stuck a bathtub and toilet in. The fluorescent light tube splashes an eerie green glow on the ground, and the mirror is cracked like the tiles around it. Jiyong braces himself against the counter and pulls out the syringes from his pocket, counts them - 1, 2, 3, 4 - and, taking the cap off of one syringe and gripping it between his teeth, pushes up the sleeve of his left arm. He circles his wrist with his other hand before sliding it up the pale flesh and squeezing lightly on his bicep, opening and closing his fist slowly to pump his vein.
"Come on, come on..." Jiyong mutters underneath his breath as he waits, and a small part of him hopes the vein won't show even as it does, a tiny blue bump surfacing in the crook of his arm.
Jiyong hurriedly removes his hand from his arm to grab the syringe from his teeth and push the needle into the vein before it disappears. His thumb on the top of the tube, he looks up at his reflection in the mirror for a moment and pauses, staring into the dark circlets underneath his eyes that won't go away. He looks haggard underneath this light, and his clothes hang off him.
He pushes it in.
Afterwards, he flings the syringe in the dirty trashcan by the toilet and pulls himself onto the countertop, tucking his legs up to his chest and slumping against the dirty tiles, breathing. Just the knowledge that he's got the crack in his system, that it's there, makes him feel better already, and he rides on that placebo-like feeling for a while, listening to the sound of his breaths bounce off the linoleum paneling of the room.
The high kicks in before too long, and Jiyong is ready to pull himself off the counter and wander home, placated and a bit annoyingly horny, like doing coke does to him -
And then, like so much of his life, it all goes bad.
It wasn't always like this. When Jiyong tries to, he can't exactly remember when his life was good and easy and right anymore, except for when states of drifting in and out of his right mind, and then his head automatically goes to when he first met the enigmatic monster known as Choi Seunghyun.
Jiyong had been eighteen, Seunghyun a year older, and they had been neighbors for a few years and little more, Jiyong daring to do much else other than smile at the older, taller boy whenever he passed him on the streets and stare at Seunghyun from the window of their, coincidentally and perhaps a little cliché, bedrooms, which were right across the alleyway from each other. Seunghyun seemed so glamorous and so unavailable, and maybe that was why Jiyong was so attracted to him, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the window whenever Seunghyun was in his room. He felt a little like a creep sometimes. Seunghyun seemed to entertain this idea of a cute kid like Jiyong seemingly having a celebrity crush on him, but it wasn't until a few weeks before Seunghyun moved out of the neighborhood that they actually spoke.
It was early summer, and Jiyong was coming home from school, in his uniform with book-bag slung across his chest, and Seunghyun was sitting on the front steps of his house smoking a cigarette, the wisps of smoke curling almost languidly around his fingertips before dissipating in the blue sky. Jiyong had always found the smell of cigarettes unappealing and the habit generally gross, but on Seunghyun it just became a part of his alluring magnetism, and Jiyong couldn't help but stare. It was a while before Seunghyun - and Jiyong - caught Jiyong staring, and Jiyong immediately flinched and smiled embarrassedly. He awkwardly waved and started for his own house, but Seunghyun called him back.
"Hey," he said, and Jiyong immediately stopped in his tracks, hesitantly looking back at his neighbor. Seunghyun had stood up, and was sauntering down the cement path towards the fence where Jiyong had been standing on the other side. He leaned against the railing, tilted his head, and Jiyong automatically came walking back, though, a little hesitant to finally be interacting with him.
"Kwon Jiyong, right?" Seunghyun said, and Jiyong had blinked. The rough quality of his voice was an unexpected twist, and though it may have been of all the cigarettes he smoked, Jiyong decided he liked it.
"How do you know my name?"
Seunghyun laughed. "C'mon, our rooms are basically connected. You gonna tell me you don't know mine?"
And of course Jiyong knew his name, but he hadn't wanted to seem like the stalker he sort of was, but now that Seunghyun had said his first, he didn't feel as creepy. "Choi Seunghyun," he'd admitted.
Seunghyun laughed, and the sound was pleasant, and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled made him look ten times more inviting than the inadvertent scowl he usually wore, as much as Jiyong liked that, too. "I was gonna say," Seunghyun said, "You stare at me enough."
"U-uh," at a loss for words, Jiyong felt his cheeks heating up, even as Seunghyun laughed again, arms folded and elbows on the metal railing of the fence.
"Ji, (and the immediate way he already picked a nickname out for Jiyong both irritated and drew him in) what do you do besides go to school and do your homework?"
Jiyong hadn't known how to answer that, and he stood there, flustered, before saying, in a rather small voice, hands nervously gripped on the strap of his bag, "I don't know."
Seunghyun shook his head. "Well shit, no wonder you watch me. Doesn't it get boring?"
It really wasn't up until then, but as soon as Seunghyun said those words, Jiyong felt himself thinking so. "I guess," he'd said uncertainly. "But what can I really do about it?"
"What, you want me to show you or something?" Seunghyun had said, and his face was carefully blank, tone unpredictable. Jiyong was afraid he'd offended him, and was thinking about just saying bye and heading home to bury his shamefaced head in his pillow, but then Seunghyun had taken a long drag on his cigarette and, without warning, pulled Jiyong by using one hand on the back of his neck over to him. Jiyong could see the individual eyelashes on Seunghyun's half-closed eyes, and he was utterly confused before Seunghyun leaned in and nudged Jiyong's lips open with his own.
And then Jiyong was breathing in the smoke from Seunghyun's mouth, gusts of gray and tasting like vanilla and metal, the tips of his lips just brushing against Seunghyun's. Little sparks of swirling fireworks were going off in Jiyong's brain, and he gulped down all the smoke there was, wanting more long after it was gone and Seunghyun had pulled back.
Seunghyun was grinning at him. "Well," he'd said, "It's a start," and he took a step back.
"Wait," Jiyong had said, and acting a little more impetuous, like he always was around his school friends, closed the space between them and grabbed a fistful of Seunghyun's shirt to yank him forward and kiss him properly. He waited a moment but Seunghyun did not pull back, so Jiyong boldly let his tongue graze Seunghyun's lips and teeth, feeling satisfied and dissatisfied all at once when Seunghyun's tongue intertwined with his. Jiyong felt like he was in flames, whether from the smoke or Seunghyun himself, and it wasn't a bad feeling at all.
It didn't last very long, but after Jiyong broke the kiss and stood there panting slightly, Seunghyun's snarky grin had come back. He had flicked Jiyong's nose before saying, "You're somethin' else, you little shit."
And a few weeks later, Seunghyun moved to another city, and Jiyong had followed with abandon, believing that this was what living was really supposed to be.
And then two years happens, and Jiyong finds himself on the countertop of a grimy bathroom in some college neighborhood, brain trying to rip its way out of his skull and quite utterly alone.
He's dying.
He's dying, Jiyong thinks. Dying. There are things in his head, and they're shrieking, pounding at the sides of his skull trying to smash their way out, and he can't see. He hears his ragged breathing hitching in his throat, all of the sudden intensified in their noise, and there seem to be voices carrying with it, scratching at his skin and slapping the inside of his heart with tiny hands.
Somebody pounds on the door, and Jiyong sucks in a breath. "In a minute!" He shouts, surprised he still has a voice. Everything is so loud, so wrong.
The bathroom turns into a death trap, and the walls are closing in on him and he's about to be crushed against the cracked mirror. Everything turns to dust in his mind, it's all a never-ending tunnel with only darkness at the end. It's so hot, hot, hot. He can't get out.
The door pounds again, and somebody is screaming something on the other side, but Jiyong can't draw enough air into his lungs to answer anymore except for a strangled noise that barely makes it from the insides of his throat. His fingers dig deep into his palms, and he clutches at his knees, tasting blood as he bites down on his lip. He's going to die.
The door flies open, and Jiyong shrinks from the noise as somebody bursts through it to where he is. Palms rest on the countertop on either side of him, trapping him in, and he feels somebody's torso pressing against his knees.
"Ji!" A voice he supposes he recognizes, but can't quite place, rips its way into the tunnel where he is still suffocating. "Ji, what the - the fuck - " Jiyong hears syringes being angrily thrown onto the floor and suddenly somebody is touching him, cold as ice breaking the fire raging inside of him.
"Ji, you're having a bad trip, okay? Come on, stay with me - Ji!" Jiyong is being shaken, and his head lolls around uselessly. Somebody slaps his face. "JI! Ji - don't - look at me, dammit!"
This tone, this harsh and authoritative tone Jiyong definitely knows, and he pries his eyes open and looks at the vampire eyes. Seunghyun seems only angrier now that Jiyong can focus his eyes on him. His shades are gone, and he shakes Jiyong again. "What the fuck were you doing?"
Jiyong opens his mouth to answer and all that comes out is, "I don't know," before he slumps back again, suddenly itching all over and the room is spinning.
"Goddammit, you idiot," Seunghyun snarls, and he cups both sides of Jiyong's face and pulls him forward, resting his forehead on Jiyong's. "Stay with me. You're going to be fine, okay? Stay the fuck with me. I'm gonna get you out, and we'll go home, all right?"
Jiyong clenches his teeth as Seunghyun pulls him off the counter and into a standing position, and immediately buries his face in the crook of Seunghyun's neck. He barely notices as they start to walk, but as they get to the door of the bathroom, Jiyong opens his eyes and suddenly the tunnel is gone, and everything comes whooshing back. Youngbae is at the door yelling his ass off at everybody else to stay the fuck back and Jiyong has no idea how long he's been doing that - at least as long as Seunghyun's been in here with him - and as they come out of the bathroom, Youngbae snaps at a guy who tries to push ahead of him.
"I need to fucking pee!" The guy whines, and Youngbae turns on him.
"Fuck you, you piece of shit, I'll beat your fuckin' ass! Yea," he says as the guy looks scared and scurries hurriedly into the bathroom, "That's right, run away like the scared son of a pussy bitch you are. Motherfucker."
And this is why Jiyong's impression of Youngbae isn't all bad, he thinks as Seunghyun steers him through the parted crowd and up the stairs, out the door, and into the night air. Jiyong grunts as they reach bumpy ground, and Seunghyun leads him someplace that doesn't take long, and then Seunghyun fumbles with something, keys jingle, a car door opens, he is picking Jiyong up and setting him gently in the passenger seat of his Lexus, smoothing the hair away from his forehead. Jiyong pulls his knees up to his chest again and breathes, but it's easier this time, the night having cooled considerably and washing gently around his hot skin. Gradually, it's easier to think, and Jiyong opens his eyes again and blinks experimentally.
Seunghyun is crouching down in front of him on the asphalt of a parking lot, his hands gripping Jiyong's shoes and his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his white t-shirt stained with what looks like dirt. There are black smears on his neck and cheek, and Jiyong realizes after a moment that it's probably the kohl liner that's smudged off his eyes.
"I'm good," Jiyong says after a while, and Seunghyun immediately shoots up into a standing position.
"Yea, you'd better be you fucker. What the fuck, mainlining? You hate doing that, no wonder you flipped your goddamn shit," he barks at him. The car door slams, and Jiyong jolts a little as Seunghyun stalks around the front of the car and gets into the driver's seat, turning on the ignition.
"Where are we going?" Jiyong asks after they steer out of the lot onto the street.
"To the docks so I can kick the living shit out of you and push you over," Seunghyun seethes. The rest of the ride is quiet. Jiyong's mind is still a little dizzy, like the feeling after you first get off a roller coaster, and he spends the time watching the lights quietly flash by. It isn't until he spies the house that he realizes where they are.
"This isn't my house." Jiyong scowls.
Seunghyun glares at him, kills the engine, and storms off, disappearing into the darkness of his house for a moment before a light flickers on inside.
Jiyong defiantly sits in the car for a couple minutes, hoping Seunghyun will come back out and take him to his apartment again, before he starts to get antsy when there's no indication that Seunghyun is going to reappear any time soon. The car is parked next to the bathroom, and he hears water running as the shower starts up. He pulls himself out of the car and stands, petulantly cursing Seunghyun and kicking the side of the Lexus, which probably hurts his toe more than the car before he goes inside.
The house always seems strange when it's empty and clear of smoke. Seunghyun is always good about clearing away the smell, and Jiyong breathes in lemon disinfectant and something that smells like vanilla and flowers.
Though he's okay now, he definitely cannot walk home as much as he would like. Jiyong stares around at the living room. The couch would be fine by him in his current fatigued state of mind, but it's always been a general rule of thumb that he sleeps in Seunghyun's bed when he stays over, which lately hasn't been a common occurrence.
Not wanting to upset Seunghyun and cause a fight - which will ultimately lead to sex that isn't as much as sex as it is Seunghyun asserting his dominance - that he doesn't have the strength to see out, Jiyong shakily trudges down the hallway to the last door on the left and pushes open the door. Not bothering to turn on the light, he strips himself of his jeans and the hoodie and t-shirt underneath, and flops into Seunghyun's king-size in just his boxers, tugging the white sheets up to his chin. He has no idea why white is Seunghyun's color since the guy is anything but, but practically everything in here is the bright shade, reflecting the moonlight that bounces off the shelves of Seunghyun's desk.
The shower shuts off before long, and then Seunghyun is crawling into bed beside Jiyong. He thinks maybe they'll pass the night in awkward, icy silence, but instead, a hand snakes around his middle and pulls him against Seunghyun's chest, which feels fresh and still slightly damp from the water.
Seunghyun looks less of an asshole in the dark, his edges softened and hazy, and when he is close enough, Jiyong kisses him. Seunghyun doesn't resist, though Jiyong can feel that he's still riled and angry from Taecyeon's party. "I'm just gonna leave you to die next time, you little shit," Seunghyun mumbles, resting his lips against the base of Jiyong's neck, and despite himself, despite everything that's happened, Jiyong doesn't feel that bad about himself.
Sometimes he lets Seunghyun take care of him, and sometimes Seunghyun surprisingly still does. It'll undoubtedly be gone in the morning again, but Jiyong gets the feeling that no matter how tough-shit he pulls on him, Seunghyun still likes to feel needed by Jiyong since he's been doing it for years, and not just because he's his dealer. In odd nights like these, Jiyong also finally remembers when they first met, and has no trouble sleeping at all.
next
gd/top (+ yb/seungri) | nc-17, 5934 words, au
jiyong's an addict to more than just the cocaine.
these nights are notable and priceless,
i swear that every word i say i mean until my dying day
it's a shame when i wake i can't recall a thing
KNIGHTS/DAVE MELILLO
Jiyong slams the door behind him and heads for Sixth and Larkspur in a foul mood. The day has been a complete nightmare, and he just wants to get this next part over with. He usually avoids parties like this especially when Ok Taecyeon is the one hosting and even more so because he knows what goes on inside, but he's already running low in his supply again and God be damned if he's going to go crawling back to Seunghyun's house at least until his pride stops hurting like a bitch.
He'd called one of his contacts earlier out of desperation, someone who'd previously been one of Seunghyun's buyers until he'd started dealing himself. Jiyong had asked Changbae if he could ease some cocaine off him, but Changbae wouldn't even let Jiyong finish his damn sentence before cutting him off.
"You know I can't do that, man," he'd said, and Jiyong had frowned.
"Why the hell not?"
"You're one of Seunghyun's. He'd kill me."
"You were one of his too, you moron, and I don't see you with a bullet in your dumbass head," Jiyong had retorted, sick of always being known around town as "Seunghyun's" like he was somebody's bitch. It was bad enough he thought that himself sometimes.
"Nah, but," and here Changbae had paused before saying, in an almost embarrassed tone like he knew something he wasn't supposed to and was ashamed to actually be voicing it out loud, "You're different. You know."
"Different." Jiyong repeated scathingly.
"Shit, Ji, don't make me say it," the boy had said, a nervous laugh forcing its way from his throat.
Jiyong had paused before saying, "How did you even get the balls to deal, Bae? You can't even tell a guy to his face why the fuck you think he's so ‘different'." He knew that he probably shouldn't be so harsh since Changbae was generally a nice guy, but his head was pounding something fierce inside his skull and he didn't exactly give a damn about anybody else's feelings right now. Besides, pussies had to be talked down to to respond.
In the end, Changbae had reluctantly given Jiyong the location of another dealer: somebody named Jay who Jiyong had never heard of. "And what happens when Seunghyun comes to kill him?" Jiyong had asked sarcastically, but Changbae had matter-of-factly told Jiyong that Jay didn't exactly care about threats, nor did he usually receive any that panned out. Jay supposedly was going to be at Taecyeon's party scoping out new buyers, and Changbae had given Jiyong the address of the house it would be held at.
"Just don't tell anybody you heard this from me, aight?" he'd said, and Jiyong had growled a "yea, yea" before promptly deleting the pansy's number from his address book before savagely stuffing the mobile back into his pants pocket. His fingertips brushed against the corner of a small plastic bag, and Jiyong's fist closed around the white sand inside, now barely a thimbleful.
If conditions were better, Jiyong would buy a month's or two's supply at a time, which would mean less visits to Seunghyun's and less interaction with the man. But money was not a luxury Jiyong was privy to these days, and he barely made it week to week without having to stop off at that dark door with the creaky screen and the assholes inside it at least once.
And quitting was not an option.
On top of all of this, Jiyong's cell phone had vibrated twice early that morning, and when he had groggily rolled over on his mattress, still in the middle of working off the edge of a high, and checked the caller ID, found that the letters spelled out Jang Wooyoung. Fully jerking awake, he'd pressed ignore repeatedly. Sleep eluded him after that though he usually slept till the middle of the afternoon.
Wooyoung had been Jiyong's childhood best friend, back once upon a time when he lived that white-picket-fence, mommy-daddy-golden-retriever life and of which was now completely alien to him. Wooyoung hadn't called in over a year, and last he heard the boy was attending a prestigious engineering university up north. He had no idea why he was trying to contact him now, especially as Wooyoung was one of the first to ditch Jiyong after he ran away. However, whenever anybody from his previous life now long lost tried to get in touch, it was always to broken-record him the same message: come back to us, we'll put you in rehab, we miss you, come back and conform to the life you were supposed to live like a good little boy. It would more times than not end in a screaming match, and off put Jiyong from everything else for the rest of the day.
Wooyoung's calls went ignored this morning, but all the same, Jiyong had stayed on his tiny balcony for the rest of the day with some weed to help calm him down before he'd gone back into the house to snort and had discovered his supply of coke was low.
And now he is here in the darkness of the stifling summer heat, stepping off the last concrete steps to his apartment building with a fistful of bills in his hand and not even one goddamn idea as to what the fuck he's doing.
Usually Jiyong prides himself on the clothes on his back because they're basically all he has to his name and he makes sure to be fucking loud about it, but in an effort to stay low profile, he's gone instead for all black save for his white shoes. He is wearing the thinnest long sleeve with a hood he could dig up in his closet, but still now he's thinking it might have been a mistake as the heat clings to him like a magnet. But as he trudges down the street and passes a couple of sketch looking guys squatting on the corner, he is thankful he has it, and pulls the hood of the jacket low over his eyes.
Ok Taecyeon's party house tonight is somewhere in a neighborhood up University Hill, and at first Jiyong has no fucking idea what the hell the man was thinking hosting something like this in a high-security college area - but as he turns a corner and peers suspiciously down the street, he all of the sudden understands.
Raging frat parties are happening up and down the boulevard, the bass music making Jiyong's feet vibrate in his shoes, scantily clad girls running from house to house in groups, and frat brothers chucking empty party cups into the road. Campus police mill around with no apparent purpose, every once in a while telling random people to get back on the sidewalk and generally ignoring the abundant cases of underage drinking and smoking that is happening. Jiyong sees one of them even accept a beer from a boy who tosses it down to him from a balcony of a house, and realizes that Taecyeon's done another one of his strategies: hide in the obvious. There is no way these sorry excuses of police will come investigate Number 3492, just another basement party of many - unless some motherfucking idiot skips outside waving his packets of cocaine in their faces.
Jiyong weaves his way around the crowds of stumbling teenagers, well aware that in another life this could've been him, smoking and drinking the cheap crap they provide at these things and thinking he's all hardcore and shit. It doesn't actually seem that unappealing to him for a second. A few girls in stilettos and slinky dresses eye him interestedly, but he ignores them and walks up the steps of a gray stone house with white pillars, and knocks.
It opens after a second, and a guy in a jersey pokes his head out. "Yea?" He looks Jiyong up and down for a second before raising an eyebrow. "Invite only, kid."
"I know," Jiyong says, rolling his eyes. He's often mistaken to be younger than he actually is, given his smallish frame and innocent face. "Fox is down under," he tells the jersey guy, who blinks before stumbling aside and letting Jiyong in. The code to get into Taecyeon's parties never make any damn sense, but Seunghyun once told him they always have to do with the last girl Taec fucked.
They're standing in a dimly lit landing. The first floor looks like an 80-year-old Victorian woman furnished it, and it's very, very empty. Without invitation from the boy manning the door, Jiyong pushes past him and heads towards the direction of the noises he hears and after opening a door, heads down a narrow flight of stairs.
As soon as he hits the bottom step the haze of smoke hits him like a slap in the face, and all of the sudden, Jiyong is in the Florida tropics. Rap music is playing so loudly he can barely hear himself think, and strobe lights are fixed in the corners of the low-ceiling, expansive basement, but this is mostly just to blend in with the other houses, as the curtains on the windows are thrown wide open instead of being boarded up like they usually are. The same kind of furniture upstairs is down here, and Jiyong is almost tempted to laugh as he sees the paradoxical nature of trashy people sitting on intricately decorated couches, flowery chairs, and leaning against the gold wallpaper.
He spots Ok Taecyeon almost immediately, the tall host sitting on the edge of a pool table with no regard to the two guys actually trying to play as he flirts with a girl with thick, curly hair. Taecyeon seems to sense somebody watching, and his eyes flit over and connect with Jiyong's, and he grins. Jiyong tilts his chin up once in acknowledgement, then turns away before Taec can push the girl aside and come say hello. He isn't exactly dangerous as he is just lewd, and Jiyong quite frankly hates his vulgar comments and barking laughter and would just on the whole prefer to stay away from him.
Pushing his way down a hall, Jiyong walks slow and hopes to hear some giveaway clue to lead him to Jay. You never outright ask anybody who anybody is; you either have connections, or you're introduced. And as Jiyong has neither at the moment, he keeps his eyes trained for somebody who is sure to be by himself with either a bag or a long coat. The good thing is he knows most of the people, or has at least seen them before, so one of the few strangers is sure to be the guy.
However, after circling the whole basement once and not finding him, Jiyong is frustrated. His head is pounding, his eyes are burning, and he can't fucking breathe right. Under the cover of the party, unknown hands of horny girls - and guys - who are flying high have been reaching out to feel up on him, and he's had to push them roughly off, cursing under his breath. He just wants to get the fuck out of here and go home, but he can't, not yet.
All of the sudden, somebody new comes into the basement, and a few people sitting on the bottom steps are jostled out of their seats. They start to complain, but when they see who the newcomer is, their voices drop a few degrees and they scurry away. Jiyong looks through the smoke, illuminated a light gray by the strobing lights, and his stomach drops as he realizes he recognizes the messy hair and the vampire eyes. Seunghyun is in a white t-shirt and jeans, a pair of barely-tinted sunglasses over his eyes. Youngbae is with him, along with two of Seunghyun's other ‘friends' who Jiyong has only seen a couple times.
He hears a couple guys whisper something he can't hear over the music to each other as Seunghyun exchanges a brief hand greeting with Taec, who says something that makes Seunghyun actually grin crookedly before turning away. The guys standing by Jiyong look at each other, seemingly nervous, before launching themselves off the wall they were leaning against to follow in Seunghyun's wake. First-timers, and Seunghyun's usually the name that comes up when anybody asks for the good shit.
For a moment, Jiyong watches Seunghyun's retreating back, and then he catches himself and starts the other way, the need to find Jay more urgent than ever. He doesn't even want to try to deal with Seunghyun's shit tonight, and if he did, he might just fucking blow his lid and gouge Seunghyun's eyes out.
And somebody up there must pay attention to him at last, because just when Jiyong is considering going home for a dry, painful night of what is sure to be insomnia instead of possibly running into Seunghyun, he hears somebody call out, "Jay Park," and a guy with a Mohawk who is standing in a corner lift his head.
Jiyong moves closer. It's no wonder he missed Jay; the guy is dressed in all black, like himself, and had been partially blocked by a huge speaker situated to his left. He is talking to a girl, almost whispering directly into her ear, and Jiyong waits until a casual handshake with a flash of barely detectable white in between passes from him to her until he approaches him.
The girl walks away, and Jiyong leans against the wall by Jay. Jay isn't as tall as Seunghyun, but his arms bear a few coiling tattoos, and lines are shaved into the sides of his scalp, blazing lines between his hair. Jay ignores him for a few seconds before his gaze slides over to Jiyong.
"Yea, brother?" he says. Jiyong can barely hear him over the speaker.
"You're Jay?" he asks, and Jay chuckles. His voice is higher than Seunghyun's, and bears none of the latter's roughness.
"Depends on who's asking."
Jiyong turns his head a little to look down at Jay's hands shoved in the pockets of his black jeans. "You gonna sell to me or what?"
Jay arches a brow, but his face remains amused. "What, you don't already have someone?"
Jiyong knows how binding and dangerous it can be if a dealer thinks he's handling new babies, but he doesn't really want to give out his ties with Seunghyun, either. But if he spouts off some other dealer's name as a cover, there's a chance Jay knows him, and therefore call Jiyong out on the lie. So Jiyong shakes his head. "I have someone."
The grin slides a little off Jay's face, and he shifts in his stance, a little disinterested at this information. "Look, I don't really handle one-timers. Who's your regular?"
Jiyong hesitates. "Seunghyun," he finally says. "Know him?"
At this, something in Jay's eyes seems to light up, and Jiyong already takes that as a yes even before Jay confirms it vocally. "Yea, I know him," Jay says slowly, and he leans back toward Jiyong again. "What, your business go sour or some shit?"
Jiyong shrugs. "I just need my coke, all right? Can you get it to me or not?"
"Depends," Jay says casually, but his tone of voice spells yes. The corner of his mouth upturns in a sly grimace. "Won't Seunghyunnie be mad I took one of his customers for the night?"
"Probably," Jiyong shoots back. "You scared?"
This challenge is clearly unexpected to Jay, whose eyes widen in a moment of being taken aback before one hand slithers up to rub his chin as he laughs shortly under his breath. "Aight. How much you got?" he finally says, and Jiyong shows him the bills in his hand.
Jay finally pulls something out of his left pocket, and for a second Jiyong thinks they're ballpoint pens and is about to fucking punch him in the jaw for messing with him before he sees the needles and realizes what Jay's giving him.
"I don't fuckin' mainline," He says immediately. Jiyong's only injected himself a couple times in his life, and he hasn't ever gotten used to the feeling. For some reason, he can take it up the nose and smoke it and feel normal, but the moment the needle pricks the crook of his arm, he just feels criminal, guilty almost. Like he realizes he really is dependent on the shit, and there's no coming back, there's nothing lies in his future except digging deeper and deeper into this white hole. It scares him.
"Then don't take it," Jay is saying, and he's already stuffing it back in his pockets.
"Just fucking give me a bag," Jiyong snarls. "I saw you give some to that bitch you were just talking to."
"Sharp eyes," Jay observes cheerfully. "Yea, okay, you wanna suck my dick too, then? Because that's what you gotta do to get some of it straight up around here." The dealer grinned. "Aint nobody gonna sell you any otherwise."
Jiyong scowls at Jay, weighing his options. He really doesn't want to go home now that he's in sight of his cocaine, liquid or not, and he doesn't want to have wasted this whole night for nothing but a headache and dry heaves at home. "How do I know it's good?" He finally spits out.
"It's good," Jay assures him, and holds out his hand for Jiyong's money. Jiyong slaps it into his palm, and grabs the syringes with his other hand, shoving them into the pockets of his hoodie before stalking off in the direction of the bathroom to do his business.
He's almost there before he suddenly sees Seunghyun again, sitting on a pink-and-ivory couch with his arm slung around a skinny - and attractive, Jiyong has to admit - ho in a red dress who is leaning in to whisper something into his ear. A pang of unexpected - what, jealousy? Nausea? Or - something cuts Jiyong across his stomach, and he hurriedly slips into the small bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
It's the smallest excuse of a bathroom he's ever been in, and looks more like a closet somebody stuck a bathtub and toilet in. The fluorescent light tube splashes an eerie green glow on the ground, and the mirror is cracked like the tiles around it. Jiyong braces himself against the counter and pulls out the syringes from his pocket, counts them - 1, 2, 3, 4 - and, taking the cap off of one syringe and gripping it between his teeth, pushes up the sleeve of his left arm. He circles his wrist with his other hand before sliding it up the pale flesh and squeezing lightly on his bicep, opening and closing his fist slowly to pump his vein.
"Come on, come on..." Jiyong mutters underneath his breath as he waits, and a small part of him hopes the vein won't show even as it does, a tiny blue bump surfacing in the crook of his arm.
Jiyong hurriedly removes his hand from his arm to grab the syringe from his teeth and push the needle into the vein before it disappears. His thumb on the top of the tube, he looks up at his reflection in the mirror for a moment and pauses, staring into the dark circlets underneath his eyes that won't go away. He looks haggard underneath this light, and his clothes hang off him.
He pushes it in.
Afterwards, he flings the syringe in the dirty trashcan by the toilet and pulls himself onto the countertop, tucking his legs up to his chest and slumping against the dirty tiles, breathing. Just the knowledge that he's got the crack in his system, that it's there, makes him feel better already, and he rides on that placebo-like feeling for a while, listening to the sound of his breaths bounce off the linoleum paneling of the room.
The high kicks in before too long, and Jiyong is ready to pull himself off the counter and wander home, placated and a bit annoyingly horny, like doing coke does to him -
And then, like so much of his life, it all goes bad.
It wasn't always like this. When Jiyong tries to, he can't exactly remember when his life was good and easy and right anymore, except for when states of drifting in and out of his right mind, and then his head automatically goes to when he first met the enigmatic monster known as Choi Seunghyun.
Jiyong had been eighteen, Seunghyun a year older, and they had been neighbors for a few years and little more, Jiyong daring to do much else other than smile at the older, taller boy whenever he passed him on the streets and stare at Seunghyun from the window of their, coincidentally and perhaps a little cliché, bedrooms, which were right across the alleyway from each other. Seunghyun seemed so glamorous and so unavailable, and maybe that was why Jiyong was so attracted to him, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the window whenever Seunghyun was in his room. He felt a little like a creep sometimes. Seunghyun seemed to entertain this idea of a cute kid like Jiyong seemingly having a celebrity crush on him, but it wasn't until a few weeks before Seunghyun moved out of the neighborhood that they actually spoke.
It was early summer, and Jiyong was coming home from school, in his uniform with book-bag slung across his chest, and Seunghyun was sitting on the front steps of his house smoking a cigarette, the wisps of smoke curling almost languidly around his fingertips before dissipating in the blue sky. Jiyong had always found the smell of cigarettes unappealing and the habit generally gross, but on Seunghyun it just became a part of his alluring magnetism, and Jiyong couldn't help but stare. It was a while before Seunghyun - and Jiyong - caught Jiyong staring, and Jiyong immediately flinched and smiled embarrassedly. He awkwardly waved and started for his own house, but Seunghyun called him back.
"Hey," he said, and Jiyong immediately stopped in his tracks, hesitantly looking back at his neighbor. Seunghyun had stood up, and was sauntering down the cement path towards the fence where Jiyong had been standing on the other side. He leaned against the railing, tilted his head, and Jiyong automatically came walking back, though, a little hesitant to finally be interacting with him.
"Kwon Jiyong, right?" Seunghyun said, and Jiyong had blinked. The rough quality of his voice was an unexpected twist, and though it may have been of all the cigarettes he smoked, Jiyong decided he liked it.
"How do you know my name?"
Seunghyun laughed. "C'mon, our rooms are basically connected. You gonna tell me you don't know mine?"
And of course Jiyong knew his name, but he hadn't wanted to seem like the stalker he sort of was, but now that Seunghyun had said his first, he didn't feel as creepy. "Choi Seunghyun," he'd admitted.
Seunghyun laughed, and the sound was pleasant, and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled made him look ten times more inviting than the inadvertent scowl he usually wore, as much as Jiyong liked that, too. "I was gonna say," Seunghyun said, "You stare at me enough."
"U-uh," at a loss for words, Jiyong felt his cheeks heating up, even as Seunghyun laughed again, arms folded and elbows on the metal railing of the fence.
"Ji, (and the immediate way he already picked a nickname out for Jiyong both irritated and drew him in) what do you do besides go to school and do your homework?"
Jiyong hadn't known how to answer that, and he stood there, flustered, before saying, in a rather small voice, hands nervously gripped on the strap of his bag, "I don't know."
Seunghyun shook his head. "Well shit, no wonder you watch me. Doesn't it get boring?"
It really wasn't up until then, but as soon as Seunghyun said those words, Jiyong felt himself thinking so. "I guess," he'd said uncertainly. "But what can I really do about it?"
"What, you want me to show you or something?" Seunghyun had said, and his face was carefully blank, tone unpredictable. Jiyong was afraid he'd offended him, and was thinking about just saying bye and heading home to bury his shamefaced head in his pillow, but then Seunghyun had taken a long drag on his cigarette and, without warning, pulled Jiyong by using one hand on the back of his neck over to him. Jiyong could see the individual eyelashes on Seunghyun's half-closed eyes, and he was utterly confused before Seunghyun leaned in and nudged Jiyong's lips open with his own.
And then Jiyong was breathing in the smoke from Seunghyun's mouth, gusts of gray and tasting like vanilla and metal, the tips of his lips just brushing against Seunghyun's. Little sparks of swirling fireworks were going off in Jiyong's brain, and he gulped down all the smoke there was, wanting more long after it was gone and Seunghyun had pulled back.
Seunghyun was grinning at him. "Well," he'd said, "It's a start," and he took a step back.
"Wait," Jiyong had said, and acting a little more impetuous, like he always was around his school friends, closed the space between them and grabbed a fistful of Seunghyun's shirt to yank him forward and kiss him properly. He waited a moment but Seunghyun did not pull back, so Jiyong boldly let his tongue graze Seunghyun's lips and teeth, feeling satisfied and dissatisfied all at once when Seunghyun's tongue intertwined with his. Jiyong felt like he was in flames, whether from the smoke or Seunghyun himself, and it wasn't a bad feeling at all.
It didn't last very long, but after Jiyong broke the kiss and stood there panting slightly, Seunghyun's snarky grin had come back. He had flicked Jiyong's nose before saying, "You're somethin' else, you little shit."
And a few weeks later, Seunghyun moved to another city, and Jiyong had followed with abandon, believing that this was what living was really supposed to be.
And then two years happens, and Jiyong finds himself on the countertop of a grimy bathroom in some college neighborhood, brain trying to rip its way out of his skull and quite utterly alone.
He's dying.
He's dying, Jiyong thinks. Dying. There are things in his head, and they're shrieking, pounding at the sides of his skull trying to smash their way out, and he can't see. He hears his ragged breathing hitching in his throat, all of the sudden intensified in their noise, and there seem to be voices carrying with it, scratching at his skin and slapping the inside of his heart with tiny hands.
Somebody pounds on the door, and Jiyong sucks in a breath. "In a minute!" He shouts, surprised he still has a voice. Everything is so loud, so wrong.
The bathroom turns into a death trap, and the walls are closing in on him and he's about to be crushed against the cracked mirror. Everything turns to dust in his mind, it's all a never-ending tunnel with only darkness at the end. It's so hot, hot, hot. He can't get out.
The door pounds again, and somebody is screaming something on the other side, but Jiyong can't draw enough air into his lungs to answer anymore except for a strangled noise that barely makes it from the insides of his throat. His fingers dig deep into his palms, and he clutches at his knees, tasting blood as he bites down on his lip. He's going to die.
The door flies open, and Jiyong shrinks from the noise as somebody bursts through it to where he is. Palms rest on the countertop on either side of him, trapping him in, and he feels somebody's torso pressing against his knees.
"Ji!" A voice he supposes he recognizes, but can't quite place, rips its way into the tunnel where he is still suffocating. "Ji, what the - the fuck - " Jiyong hears syringes being angrily thrown onto the floor and suddenly somebody is touching him, cold as ice breaking the fire raging inside of him.
"Ji, you're having a bad trip, okay? Come on, stay with me - Ji!" Jiyong is being shaken, and his head lolls around uselessly. Somebody slaps his face. "JI! Ji - don't - look at me, dammit!"
This tone, this harsh and authoritative tone Jiyong definitely knows, and he pries his eyes open and looks at the vampire eyes. Seunghyun seems only angrier now that Jiyong can focus his eyes on him. His shades are gone, and he shakes Jiyong again. "What the fuck were you doing?"
Jiyong opens his mouth to answer and all that comes out is, "I don't know," before he slumps back again, suddenly itching all over and the room is spinning.
"Goddammit, you idiot," Seunghyun snarls, and he cups both sides of Jiyong's face and pulls him forward, resting his forehead on Jiyong's. "Stay with me. You're going to be fine, okay? Stay the fuck with me. I'm gonna get you out, and we'll go home, all right?"
Jiyong clenches his teeth as Seunghyun pulls him off the counter and into a standing position, and immediately buries his face in the crook of Seunghyun's neck. He barely notices as they start to walk, but as they get to the door of the bathroom, Jiyong opens his eyes and suddenly the tunnel is gone, and everything comes whooshing back. Youngbae is at the door yelling his ass off at everybody else to stay the fuck back and Jiyong has no idea how long he's been doing that - at least as long as Seunghyun's been in here with him - and as they come out of the bathroom, Youngbae snaps at a guy who tries to push ahead of him.
"I need to fucking pee!" The guy whines, and Youngbae turns on him.
"Fuck you, you piece of shit, I'll beat your fuckin' ass! Yea," he says as the guy looks scared and scurries hurriedly into the bathroom, "That's right, run away like the scared son of a pussy bitch you are. Motherfucker."
And this is why Jiyong's impression of Youngbae isn't all bad, he thinks as Seunghyun steers him through the parted crowd and up the stairs, out the door, and into the night air. Jiyong grunts as they reach bumpy ground, and Seunghyun leads him someplace that doesn't take long, and then Seunghyun fumbles with something, keys jingle, a car door opens, he is picking Jiyong up and setting him gently in the passenger seat of his Lexus, smoothing the hair away from his forehead. Jiyong pulls his knees up to his chest again and breathes, but it's easier this time, the night having cooled considerably and washing gently around his hot skin. Gradually, it's easier to think, and Jiyong opens his eyes again and blinks experimentally.
Seunghyun is crouching down in front of him on the asphalt of a parking lot, his hands gripping Jiyong's shoes and his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his white t-shirt stained with what looks like dirt. There are black smears on his neck and cheek, and Jiyong realizes after a moment that it's probably the kohl liner that's smudged off his eyes.
"I'm good," Jiyong says after a while, and Seunghyun immediately shoots up into a standing position.
"Yea, you'd better be you fucker. What the fuck, mainlining? You hate doing that, no wonder you flipped your goddamn shit," he barks at him. The car door slams, and Jiyong jolts a little as Seunghyun stalks around the front of the car and gets into the driver's seat, turning on the ignition.
"Where are we going?" Jiyong asks after they steer out of the lot onto the street.
"To the docks so I can kick the living shit out of you and push you over," Seunghyun seethes. The rest of the ride is quiet. Jiyong's mind is still a little dizzy, like the feeling after you first get off a roller coaster, and he spends the time watching the lights quietly flash by. It isn't until he spies the house that he realizes where they are.
"This isn't my house." Jiyong scowls.
Seunghyun glares at him, kills the engine, and storms off, disappearing into the darkness of his house for a moment before a light flickers on inside.
Jiyong defiantly sits in the car for a couple minutes, hoping Seunghyun will come back out and take him to his apartment again, before he starts to get antsy when there's no indication that Seunghyun is going to reappear any time soon. The car is parked next to the bathroom, and he hears water running as the shower starts up. He pulls himself out of the car and stands, petulantly cursing Seunghyun and kicking the side of the Lexus, which probably hurts his toe more than the car before he goes inside.
The house always seems strange when it's empty and clear of smoke. Seunghyun is always good about clearing away the smell, and Jiyong breathes in lemon disinfectant and something that smells like vanilla and flowers.
Though he's okay now, he definitely cannot walk home as much as he would like. Jiyong stares around at the living room. The couch would be fine by him in his current fatigued state of mind, but it's always been a general rule of thumb that he sleeps in Seunghyun's bed when he stays over, which lately hasn't been a common occurrence.
Not wanting to upset Seunghyun and cause a fight - which will ultimately lead to sex that isn't as much as sex as it is Seunghyun asserting his dominance - that he doesn't have the strength to see out, Jiyong shakily trudges down the hallway to the last door on the left and pushes open the door. Not bothering to turn on the light, he strips himself of his jeans and the hoodie and t-shirt underneath, and flops into Seunghyun's king-size in just his boxers, tugging the white sheets up to his chin. He has no idea why white is Seunghyun's color since the guy is anything but, but practically everything in here is the bright shade, reflecting the moonlight that bounces off the shelves of Seunghyun's desk.
The shower shuts off before long, and then Seunghyun is crawling into bed beside Jiyong. He thinks maybe they'll pass the night in awkward, icy silence, but instead, a hand snakes around his middle and pulls him against Seunghyun's chest, which feels fresh and still slightly damp from the water.
Seunghyun looks less of an asshole in the dark, his edges softened and hazy, and when he is close enough, Jiyong kisses him. Seunghyun doesn't resist, though Jiyong can feel that he's still riled and angry from Taecyeon's party. "I'm just gonna leave you to die next time, you little shit," Seunghyun mumbles, resting his lips against the base of Jiyong's neck, and despite himself, despite everything that's happened, Jiyong doesn't feel that bad about himself.
Sometimes he lets Seunghyun take care of him, and sometimes Seunghyun surprisingly still does. It'll undoubtedly be gone in the morning again, but Jiyong gets the feeling that no matter how tough-shit he pulls on him, Seunghyun still likes to feel needed by Jiyong since he's been doing it for years, and not just because he's his dealer. In odd nights like these, Jiyong also finally remembers when they first met, and has no trouble sleeping at all.
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