EXPECTATIONS
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@adjunhyung-blog
if anyone who’s new to this group wants to plot send me a message. I tend to get on once or twice a week to see whether i have replies, and i try to churn all of my replies out once or twice a week too. i’m not the faster responder in this roleplay group but i do my best. and i’m always excited to plot with you.
adgrxy:
he can’t help but feel bad for winning. grey never does, but he knows jun could use a pick me up with everything he is going through, and losing would most likely not have been one. he wants to be there for his roommate. he wants to help, but he doesn’t know how. he knows how to, and has do it, help him feel better when he’s having an… episode; but when it comes to the psychological side of it, grey is helpless. he knows computers, not brains. not needs. or cravings. he doesn’t know how to make it better for jun and he feels so… useless.
he notices the way junhyung is holding his own fingers, wishing he knew how to make it better, or at least less bad, but he doesn’t. and he also doesn’t know whether to bring it up or not. he quickly replaces the worried look he’d let into his eyes for a second with a big cheeky grin in the other’s direction, deciding against saying something for the time being. “ ya, hyung, it’s not my fault you’re terrible at this, you do yourself dirty. “ he chuckles, reaching out for his phone to order their pizzas. “ besides, you’re always too busy thinking of ways to cheat to actually win anything “ grey teases, poking jun’s side gently with a laugh.
his lips twist into a half-grin half-scowl, wiggling more firmly into the cushions of their sleepy old couch. the poke is so natural and genuine, so very grey, and it junhyung takes a simple second to consider himself lucky, before his thoughts turn inward, side-swiping him with self loathing as he’s more accustomed to.
junhyung watches quietly as grey orders the food, his thoughts spinning like a bald tire, over-worked and rubbery, shifting first from bad to neutral; and then it all calms down. usually he might indulge in any number of drugs, hard to less harsh, or calll taehyung. but this is fine too.
he glances over grey’s face, his forehead creasing as he wonders how they got here. from two guys forced together, barely speaking for weeks on end, avoiding each other in the main room, to skinship close, nestled into the couch. ready to eat dinner together after hours of goofing off together.
junhyung thinks, not for the first time, that grey is the only family he has. and as always, it’s a hell of a realization that leaves him a little winded.
he almost didn’t realize that he hadn’t responded or said a single word, until moments later. when his smile returns, the frown and self loathing slipping away, the bad things too.
“i don’t cheat.” It’s a belated reply but it’s the best he can do. “I mean...i cheat, we both know i cheat. but i don’t cheat at video games. i only cheat at things that matter. besides, don’t need to cheat to beat you, punk.”
Reunion
adxyujin:
“Might have something?“ she echoes, but doesn’t question him. He must have his reasons for not coming over, and perhaps it is better this way - Yujin’s heart already feels like it could burst out of her chest any moment, any more and she might collapse.
And so she lets him pull her along, hurrying a little to fall into a comfortable pace next to him. She gives his hand a soft squeeze, her thumb brushing the skin there, wincing when she feels an open cut. It hurts to see him like this. When she was younger, she found his bad boy image to be incredibly cool; now it makes her worry. She’s aware of the underground fighting that happens in the city - her colleagues talk about it, one of her best friends is part of it. The thought alone terrifies her, the vivid images of people beating each other up for whatever reason.
As she peeks up at him through wet lashes, Yujin wonders if he’s part of that group. She moves a bit closer to him and God, she wants nothing more than to bury her face in his arm or shoulder or chest and just breathe.
But then his voice turns gruff and she flinches. She doesn’t know what answer she was expecting, but what he says makes sense to her. He was her uncle’s godson, of course he’d find out soon.
“I was the first to know,” she says quietly, and her grip on his hand tightens ever-so-slightly. “It was… strange. He was so angry and violent… always shouting, always breaking things… but when I found him he was quiet. And…” Though her voice is relatively steady, the tears are back, streaming down her face. “I don’t remember much else. My mom was the one who called the cops when she came home a while later… but I don’t even remember that, I just know they took me to the hospital.” And gave her a shock blanket and suggested therapy.
It’s been a while since Yujin talked this openly about her uncle. Normally it’s just a quick sidenote, a reason for her getting into forensics, a bit of backstory for those who care to hear it.
But Junhyung knew her uncle better than she did. “Is it strange to say that I wish he’d been that quiet when he was alive?”
Once again, she feels the injuries on Junhyung’s hand underneath her fingertips. A soft sigh leaves her lips and this time, she allows herself to rest her head against his shoulder. “I missed you.”
The affection radiating from her, the innocence and acceptance, almost physically hurts. On top of everything else he’s been going through, pain both physical and emotional, struggling to get clean, struggling with anger and intolerance and hatred, it’s both a breath of fresh air and the nail in his condemning coffin.
She always had been too good for him. Just a dirty, angry kid her uncle took in, one who had already done more drugs by the time he was 17 than he thought imaginable, one who fought in the pits even back then, who didn’t belong to or with anyone. Her house during holidays was an escape, like a vacation, but it wasn’t real. She was real. But she wasn’t his, and he knew she never would be.
Teenage angst aside, he’s an adult now, capable of making sound decisions, so long as he was sober. He’s sober right now and he comes to the conclusion that she’s still so much better than him it’s insane. Mind boggling almost.
He squeezes her hand back, his palm rough and his bloody knuckles stinging uncomfortable, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
Her words shatter his heart, so much so that he almost stops walking; a visible hitch to his step as he falters. His fingers clenching around hers because, he never heard this story. He hadn’t stopped to think of Yujin or of first-responders, or anyone else. When the first word came, confirmation, that his Godfather, her uncle, was dead, he didn’t bat an eyelash. Only conviction in his heart as he got the hell out of there, packed up his stuff two days later and moved into his own place with they money he saved.
He thought of her often afterward, but never could he have imagined this. It’s overwhelming, and he doesn’t dare look back at her. His lips pulling into his mouth, sucking on the dry skin as he tries to process this information. Surely she can’t mean that she was first. That she was the one who...
Shaking himself out of his daze, he clears his throat before he answers, his fingers squeezing like a death-grip; it’s unbelievable that she’s real. Here, beside him, after all these years. It’s almost too much to take in all in just a few minutes, but he has to manage. She’s expectant, and like always, he’s compelled to do anything she asks, to sooth any pain she may feel.
The same as he kissed her under that mistletoe when she asked.
“No.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re right. He should have been more quiet; he should have been a lot of things. But he never was.” He glances down, just a quick glimpse over at her, just by his side, and then he leads them towards his apartment building. Almost there. “It’s his own fault, really.” There isn’t a shred of remorse in his voice, just a cold, hard, hateful edge, appearing like the moon in the dark sky.
The building is old, beat down, worn brick and bad life choices, but there’s a pin-pad to keep it locked to just any intruder, so that at least, is a good thing. He stops on the top step, his right hand still latched to her, to punch in the code with his free left hand.
Her words catch him off guard. As she always seems to be able to do; especially tonight. He looks over at her, as the door beeps to signify they can enter, and his heart clenches. She looks so vastly different than she did when he last saw her, more mature, more pretty, only more so with age, but her voice is as it always was. He can’t speak past the nostalgia lodged in his throat but he smiles, weak and tired, probably diminished by his black eye and pale face.
“Come on, princess,” he gives her palm a quick squeeze, “we don’t got all night.”
They do. At least. He does. He has no plans, but he’s not sure he can stay with her that long without saying or doing something he’ll regret. There’s too much unfinished business between them to sort out.
Reunion
adxyujin:
It takes every last bit of self control for Yujin to not throw herself into his arms. She knows he wouldn’t like that and as much as she wants to be held when she cries, she can’t risk annoying him. Not now, not when he’s finally letting her help him.
She’s wanted to help for a long time, since the first time they met, since she saw the tension between him and her uncle. This is my godson, her uncle had said, his parents are dead and I’m taking care of him. But there had been no care in the way they spoke to each other, looked at each other. Yujin remembers that her uncle never even got him a real gift.
Taking in a shaky breath, she lets her hands drop from her face, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, not trusting her voice to go any louder just yet. “I didn’t want to be so… messy when we met again.”
Of course she’d imagined their reunion. After her uncle’s death she kept hoping that Junhyung would return, but after years of nothing her parents told her to accept the fact that they’d never see each other again.
But here he is, and here she is, and she’s a crying mess. Embarrassed, Yujin reaches up with her free hand to wipe away her tears.
“You don’t look like you’re good…“ It’s still very quiet, and she finally dares to meet his eyes again. The tears almost come back the second she sees how red and bruised they are, but she wills herself to hold them back, pressing her lips together before speaking again, louder this time. “Do you have proper med kit at home? I need to clean and disinfect your wounds and I need ointment and ice for your eye and I need to bandage the cuts and make sure you’re not hurt so bad you need to be hospitalized and–”
She cuts herself off. Normally she finishes her rambling (unless someone else cuts her off), but he seems to be on edge and she doesn’t think she could handle him being annoyed with her. “If not, I have everything I need at my place, so we could go there… I mean, it’s not cleaned up right now, but i-it should be enough.”
There are so many things she wants to, needs to ask him, but they all get stuck in her throat. She’s fidgeting again, shifting her stance, chewing on her lower lip. Finally, she manages to bring out one, one that hopefully won’t upset him: “When did you find out that my uncle died?”
Messy. A great word for it already and it had only been just mere moments they had met again. She always had these ways of just getting in his head, shaking him up. He swallows as he peers down at her, something about the gentle whisper of her voice sets him over the edge. His entire body aches to press against her, like those days in the past. Days spent doing anything possible to nonchalantly, ‘accidentally’ brush his hand against hers, his master plans of trying to catch her under the mistletoe again and again. For a repeat of that first time.
It’s all too clear, the vivid purity of her. And here it is, on display, barely changed at all.
“It’s fine,” He replies, somewhat openly, as though it were a response to all the words she had said, apology, observation, all of it. But as she asks, he debates seriously. Currently, he wanted to get her off the streets that was his main purpose. He knew Grey would be home, but that kid would probably be locked up in his room by now, shut off to the world, even his beloved hyung.
On the other hand, going to her place felt too sudden; his heart squeezed at the thought instantly. He isn’t sure he can bare it just yet. It’s all too sudden.
“I might have something.” He knows he has band-aids at least. That’s always got the job done before, probably would work this time. “Come on. Let’s just go.”
Junhyung sighs, securely holding her hand, fastening them together, the moisture from her tears wetting his palm but he doesn’t mind. He starts tugging her in the direction of he and Grey’s apartment, not far from here. It’s almost creepy how close she was to his place; almost like fate.
He pauses at her words, his back tensing, fingers clenching around hers, the broken skin of his knuckles burning. He doesn’t look at her face, can’t bare to.
“Does it matter now?” His voice is unintentionally gruff and he almost curses himself. Softly pulling her to walk beside him, he doesn’t stop moving, can’t give it time to boil over. He can hardly go ten seconds without feeling guilty, and the words tumble out on a mumbled sigh. “That same night...” He hopes she’ll drop it there.
He can’t let her know; she can never know the things he knows. She might hate him. It’s for her own good.
170604 <Can You Feel It?> Concert | Credit: HITDU74 | Do not edit. Do not crop or remove the watermark.
ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐʸ ᵇʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ 형들이 있어. JUNGREY ( junhyung + grey )
170807 - ‘brooklyn drugs, no relapse,’
taehyung let off a dry laugh, nodding as he handed him the things, finally pulling the towel from his dampened forhead and scurrying to go grab one to dry the spot on his face. “you’re welcome.” he muttered softly, his smile weak and weary.
“you don’t have to do that,” tae said shaking his head, “i stayed cause i wanted to help you hyung…i couldn’t just leave you like this, like that…it was horrible,” taehyung could feel his vocal cords shake in emotion but he just shook his head in response. “i almost took you to the hospital…i don’t want anything from you i just want this to be over with,” he smiled softly, climbing onto the bed himself, too large white tee sliding off his shoulder as he did. “i’ve seen worse…this was bad…but it was nothing.”
“i think he’s at my place? i could be wrong, you texted me…though i assumed it was under a different pretense, i didn’t mention to him that i was coming…didn’t want to both him….are you alright?” taehyung’s eyes, for the first time in awhile were soft and doting as they looked at junhyung’s weak form, a puppy watching their owner suffering unsure how to help them, unable to comprehend fully.
Taehyung is a good boy, he’s reminded again and again, but it always seems to take too long to sink in. It takes extremes like this for him to really appreciate it. Not when Taehyung is being a good boy for him by crouching on all fours at the foot of his bed in a collar with a leashing hanging down. But like this. Giving him that warm smile and crawling closer.
“Sorry,” His apology sounds weak and rough to his own ears, and it’s not enough, but he doesn’t know how the hell else to explain himself. “Usually I would be calling for that. I was just...Hyung was having a hard time, puppy.” He sounds pathetic to himself. All the rough edges and sharp tongue people were used to from him, Taehyung never saw. Least of all during times like this.
“I’ll be better if you come over here for me.” He reaches, grabs and drags Taehyung into place beside him, curling himself into the others side with a frown. “You really saved my ass. I’ll have to repay you somehow, even if you don’t want it.” He nips at Taehyung’s ear, teeth tugging his earlobe in an almost affectionate manner.
Reunion
adxyujin:
It’s so strange to see him like this. When she thought of him before, she remembered the way he looked sat on the couch in her living room, illuminated by the Christmas lights. She remembered the mistletoe and how soft it had all been. And now, as she watches him move her hand away, she wonders if he thought of her at all during these years.
“I know I shouldn’t be here,” she says, and she means it. The police officers she works with would often tell her about neighborhoods like these. “But I am and I want to help you.“ As soft as her voice is, there’s determination behind it. Yujin was raised to be a kind, helpful person, and that part of her is stronger than her nervousness and insecurities.
She thought he knew that about her. Her heart sinks at the words that follow, and for a few moments she can’t bring herself to react. It’s silly, really, she should’ve known that he wouldn’t want to be near her. Whatever there was between them in the past, whatever could’ve happened had her uncle not been, it clearly doesn’t matter to him anymore.
And why should it? Yujin knows she hasn’t changed; she’s still the silly, shy little girl she was eleven years ago, the one who preferred books to people, who got picked on for being too quiet and too weird. Other people might’ve developed thick skin over time, but Yujin never did, and hearing Junhyung more or less tell her to leave hurts a lot more than it maybe should.
There are tears brimming in her eyes as she shakes her head, gaze dropping to the floor. “I want to help you,” she whispers. “You’re my friend. Please, please let me help you, you shouldn’t take care of it yourself…” She sniffs and a few tears run down her cheeks. “I-I was s-so worried about you and I never heard from you again, and my parents didn’t know anything either and I was so s-scared…”
This time it’s not a sniff but a sob that cuts her off, and she digs her nails into her palms to try and stop crying. “A-and now you’re here and you’re telling me to leave but h-how can I, especially when you’re hurt? I know I can help you, p-please…” The memory of seeing her uncle in a pool of blood comes back to her and that’s the last straw - she covers her face in her hands as she cries, small shoulders shaking.
Every single thread within him snaps in a single second. It’s not like it should be possible to feel so washed out by a person as much as he does by Yujin, an anomaly for all intents and purposes, appearing again after so long, reminding him that once upon a time, things had held possibilities.
He’s thrust into the past, like his head is underwater; how uncomfortable she would look around her her uncle. Bouncing down the stairs early, chilly holiday mornings in her pretty pajamas with her books to read. She was so dignified, so pretty and innocent. He remembered feeling inept, a piece of coal next to the real Christmas gift that she was. Teenage hormones doing their best to make him awkward, depressed, overwhelmed by her.
Well he’s not a fucking kid anymore. He’s not ruled by his hormones he’s a fucking man, he can control himself. His mind yells at him to grow the fuck up; she’s just a girl, a girl that he has history with is still just a girl....A woman.
So why the hell did seeing her cry make his stomach ache more than any drugs, any lack of food or embedded fist between his lumbar’s during a match.
He grits his teeth, looks down at his fingers still holding hers instead of her face.
She’s too pure for her own good. If anyone else in his life right now were to whisper that he would snap back, maybe lose his ass over laughing at their faces. He would disbelieve, assuming they wanted something, or know they didn’t really mean it. But he believes her; in some fucked up way, she really must think that she cares about him, that he’s her friend.
The news that she was worried about him lights him up with a buzz, tingling skin and he drops her hand unceremoniously.
She’s still the same little girl. So many years had past, he had changed into an entirely different person close to three times already, but here she was, the same, one who, untouched, perfect person.
It’s the sob that breaks him, sends him from a tense, awkward board, to sighing as his spine slouches, looking left in right in disbelief as he steps forward and lays a palm on the crown of her head. “Fine. Whatever. You can do whatever you want just...don’t cry.” He looks uncomfortable just thinking about it.
Her hair is silky beneath his skin and he gulps down blossoming emotion it brings forth. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m good, see?” He grabs her hand again, send spinning back into days when he was a young boy, all muted rebellion, quiet and hateful, leather jackets and bruised knuckles from his first fights. Bumping into her beneath the mistletoe or brushing her hand as he passed her the presents marked for her beneath the tree. “Calm down. ” He tries to sound frustrated but it sounds surprisingly soft even to his own ears. “You really know how to make an entrance, huh?” He shakes his head, rolls his eyes.
YONG JUN HYUNG(용준형) - WONDER IF(그대로일까)
170808 - “fire with fire”
ad-yoongi:
.
The man stabs with words more so than with punches and after each and every jab, more poison spreads bitter under Yoongi’s skin.
He might be rather sensitive but he’s quick-witted too, and it’s exactly that combination which usually makes him particularly headstrong. But being blackmailed and threathened at gunpoint a few days prior have seriously thrown Yoongi off his mental game and the effects of it are showing. It frustrates him even further. How can he aim to stand his ground against a patreon if he can’t even face his opponent in the ring?! Junhyung’s right, every mistake, every opening could mean his end from here out on. He can afford them no longer. But his arms and legs are tiring and his lungs burn and the mistakes keep coming. Junhyung is chipping at his defences more than Yoongi thought possible for a stranger and it’s growing obvious, bleeding to the surface the harder he’s made to work. The worst thing yet is that Junhyung himself looks terrible. If Yoongi appears at the end of his strength it’s Junhyung who looks like he might actually faint any minute, so ashen is his face and so shaky are his fists. He might still pack a mean punch and he might still be quicker but the man is heavily overstepping it with the venomous insults. He is looking down at Yoongi with contempt and arrogance and thought the younger can grit his teeth and bear that from someone whom is clearly his better, he does not simply accept authority that isn’t earned. Yes, at this point Junhyung is loosing Yoongi’s respect as rapidly as he appears to be loosing his strength to their match.
If the man wishes to draw Yoongi out this far he better be prepared to match him. If he wants to dominate so absolutely he better prove his worth. In the end it’s the shove that pushes Yoongi over the edge, not words. Anger finally reaches its boiling point and he roars in absolute frustration as he lunges forward. His ears rush with the pumping of his blood while he attacks with renewed vigour and fury. The fight is for real now, not for the purpose of training or getting better. It’s personal and Yoongi means every single fucking punch and kick. He wants to test Junhyung, challenge his position. There is no other way to settle this. .
The first punch could have knocked his lights out if he didn’t have years worth of tolerance and straight up willpower. He had been expecting it, had egged it on, but it still hit so hard he almost instantly sees stars. And fuck does it feel good, the thrill of the fight instantly coming to life inside of him.
He throws his entire life into the fight, every moment of frustration and anger built up, especially those in the last few months. The battle was fierce, not this one so to speak, but the one within himself. So many fucking times quitting and then starting again; drugs were his enemy, not Min Yoongi, but Min Yoongi makes a good substitute. And within just a few seconds of all out war, no holding back, he can’t deny that Yoongi has talent at that. Once he’s gotten riled up.
There’s something engrossing about staring into the slash of anger in Yoongi’s eyes.
“Fuck,” he gasps into Yoongi’s shoulder as he folds forward, practically hugging, after a terribly fierce punch right to his gut, so hard he can feel it ripple up and down his spine. The impact knocks him back into two nights ago, when he first his first major withdrawal episode, one that had him laying on the floor in the bathroom in his own vomit, with his eyes closed so that he didn’t have to stare at the delusions haunting the room with him. Ghosts come to life, hysteria, too much to handle. Why would he try to quit when it tortured him so to do it?
He drifts away from Yoongi again but the man doesn't stop coming, a kick to his left side that he sloppily can’t block and he feels the bile rising, choking on his spit as he tries to recover from the blow.
Ah, yes. He wants to quit so he can have this again. The thrill of the fight. So he could take on a man like Min Yoongi with ease, unlike now, barely on his feet, staggering with every punch, bones threatening to snap and cold sweats rising to the surface.
“Shit....” He mutters, his pupils narrowing as he peers into Yoongi’s eyes, a fraction of a second before Yoongi aggressors he’s sure, and he rapidly shoots a hand up, hunched forward, his palm a plee for pause that he’s sure he doesn’t deserve.
“Oh fuck...” And then he stumbles a foot or two out of the way, leans his hand against the wall, and throws up his fucking shame, frustration, and his bodies sheer need for something harder than a hit, something stronger, all over the ground behind a punching bag.
If he wasn’t already getting the shakes again, he would be embarrassed, but he has little room for anything besides pain, and something oddly like thrill harrowing through him. Min Yoongi was fucking good. He isn’t sure if he’s throwing up from the sheer force the impact of losing, the relative severity of the man’s punches, or the shame of losing, but regardless, the distraction is in full swing. Temporarily, he forgets about drugs, for just a second. And focuses on the pain.
ᴘʟᴢ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ sᴀᴅ. x JUƝJIƝ ( junhyung + yujin. )
Reunion
adxyujin:
It really is him. Memories come flooding back to Yujin, memories of her awkwardly trying to talk to the “cool older boy“ at Christmas, memories of the coldness she’d felt between him and her uncle even though he’d been Junhyung’s godfather.
She remembered trying to make Junhyung feel at home, constantly offering him cookies and sweets and toys. The last time they saw each other had been when Yujin was thirteen - the year after that she wasn’t allowed to come out of her room when her uncle was there.
There was a lot of time spent worrying about Junhyung after that. And after her uncle’s death, Yujin had sat in her hospital bed and wondered how the quiet bad boy was doing.
Now she knows: not well, probably.
His words are harsh but not unexpected, though they manage to hit Yujin a little harder than they were supposed to. She bites her lip, an embarrassed blush lightly coloring her cheeks. “I got lost, I was trying a new way home from work but I think I took a wrong turn somewhere and I ended up here, and… why are you hurt?” There is genuine concern in her voice, her gaze resting on his black eye.
“I came to Seoul to study and just… stayed, I really like it here and things at home were kind of different after… you know,” Yujin explains softly, the nickname keeping the soft pink color on her face. Her attention is constantly drawn to his injuries and, seeing as she has no concept of personal space, she reaches up to gently touch his bruised face with her fingertips.
“You need to rest and put some ice on that… and disinfect these.” Her other hand moves to his, eyes dropping to his bleeding knuckles. “Let me help you, please.” She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she just let him go. “I studied medicine for a while, I know what I’m doing, please let me.“
His heart tugs in his chest at the sight of her. Appearing before him after all this time, he hadn’t been prepared. He doesn’t think he could have been. Seeing her again brings back an assault of memories, too many, so many he can’t process them all.
He debates for the second time in only a hand full of seconds, just running in the opposite direction, or walking right past her. But he can’t. God he’s trash, he fucking can’t.
Everything about her is strikingly the same and yet so different. Her voice hits him and he inhales sharply. It hurts his lungs, where a fist had impaled him just hours ago, hard, repetitive, rapid blows that left a sizable bruise painted over his ribs.
She brings back too many memories. Too many. Bad, good, overwhelming.
“Different after...you know.” He feels a punch of disgust, and of pleasure. Pleasure that the world was rid of “you know”.
He almost draws back away from her touch, but it’s as if his body turns to stone. Eyes reflect nothing, but his teeth pull his lip into his mouth, tug at the skin to contain the cry of emotion that builds in his heart, up his throat.
He didn’t believe in love, didn’t believe in something so innocent or simple, so useless. And he knows she didn’t love him. How could she. He didn’t love her either, he was just a stupid, hateful kid going no where fast. Turns out he turned out even worse than he thought then. He was so much worse for her than he thought he would be. It’s such a good thing he didn’t pursue his interest in her. He would have burned her up, a flame whittling down a wick.
Even her fingers are soft, like a ghost passing over his skin more than a human hand.
He reaches his hand up, holsters her small fingers within his palm, pulls it away and holds it between them. “Don’t worry about me and take care of yourself.” He sighs, rough and heady, heavy with the weight of his memories. She’s ten times more pretty than he remembers; a problem, really. “You shouldn’t be out here, don’t you know where you are?” He’s almost annoyed. Annoyed that she would risk her own safety like that; like she isn’t precious.
Knowing she studies medicine makes his heart prickle with pain; the distance between them growing, the pedestal she’s raised upon in his mind, winding up like a drawbridge, further out of reach.
“I’ll take you to the bus stop.” He ignores all of her words to help. She shouldn’t help him; he should help her. Help her get away from anywhere that’s close to him.
170807 - ‘brooklyn drugs, no relapse,’
Taehyung cards his fingers through Jun’s hair, lip tucked roughly between his teeth, brain running a mile a minute at his state. Every alarm bell in his medical career was going off, pinging against the space between his temples. He wanted so desperately to drag Jun out of bed and take him to the nearest hospital, but he couldn’t risk that, both of them would probably be in handcuffs with in a few hours.
“Yeah,” Tae said weakly in response as he tucked the elder away in bed, “I’m here daddy,” he pushed through sharp jagged breaths, carding his fingers through his caramel locks. He did as told, trudging over to the book shelf, snatching every baggy, every match box, and Altoids tin out of it. Taehyung had no business doing this, he, himself had an extensive drug problem, being back in school did help wane it, but for him to be at aid at someone who’s trying to quit was hypocritical and he knew it well. But still, he tossed it all in the porcelain bowl, flushing a few at a time so they all went down the drain with out fault before returning, another damp cloth in hand to trade out with the other.
He watched as Junhyung finally succumb to his withdrawal, eyes fluttering shut with in minutes, and Tae took it upon himself to stay. He settled on the floor, Gatorade, water and migraine pills ready, setting an alarm for every thirty minutes so he could swap out the towel, head tilted against the mattress before he allowed himself to sleep after awhile.
Junhyung had been out for hours, and every thirty minutes like clock work Taehyung was out of his sleep, swapping the towels on his head and making sure he was okay. He had only left Jun’s side once to grab the food he ordered, but he returned back to his post on the floor, “hyung,” Taehyung said in return, coming up on his knees, fingers immediately threading in the elders hair, “how are you feeling, I have some water and Gatorade here…and some medicine if your head is still bothering you…” his voice was weak with worry but he was glad he was finally awake.
his throat burns, his head is a dull ache, but his body doesn’t physically fight him. the chills have stopped, palms no longer sweating and his teeth aren’t clattering in his mouth. it’s a good start. he can actually tell what’s going on, no more deliria, either.
taehyung is there, within the second he peels open his eyes. “hey pup, you’re here.” he repeats himself like he can’t believe it, throat dry and hot, so he pushes himself up carefully to chug down some liquid. instantly feeling better.
“fuck, i feel like hell frozen over.” he coughs, dragging the meds taehyung had supplied and downing possibly more than recommended dose without a single pause. “thanks...”
“i’ll pay you for this.” he’s feeling weak, physically, emotionally, mentally. his fucking lover, the one he regularly dressed in tiny panties, snapped collars around his neck and made sit on the floor waiting for him to come home. the lover he counted on to always cry, the one he felt remorseless for making bleed, for calling upon without warning, like he owned his time. he didn’t deserve this kindness, not even from his puppy boy who always came running with tail wagging. “sorry. you can have anything you want. thanks for helping me , sorry you had to see this shit. usually grey would....” he frowns. “where is grey anyways? that no good punk...” he mutters, squeezing his thumbs over his temples. his roommate didn’t deserve it either but that was another thing entirely.
Hope you’re not still the same, When you come back into my arms, Then I’ll make you the old you.
adgrxy:
grey can’t imagine jun is going through. he can’t imagine what withdrawal must feel like, anyway, because addiction he does know. he’s never done drugs, not purposefully so, but inhaling smoke from other people’s when he’s surrounded is inevitable, but he’s never felt the effects of drugs.
his addiction was sitting right between his hands. gaming was the only - or one of the only - pleasures grey had aside from what he did for for a living and he wasnt going to stop just because some people thought of it as an addiction. it wasn’t killing him - maybe his eyes a little, but with all the time he spent in front of his computer those were surely way past fixing at that point.
he’s happy that his addiction is helping jun’s, that it’s helping his roomate - his friend - get through it, that he can do something to help. he hates seeing jun hurt. in whatever way that may be. grey knows he’s strong and all that, but jun, despite being a lot older than he would be, reminds grey of his brother, and just as he used to not like anything that came to harm his sibling, anything and anyone that hurt jun will forever be tainted in his mind.
he thought about letting his roomate win given his condition as of late, but then grey thought about himself in the same position and how much he would just want simple things to seem - to be - normal. he glanced at him. jun seemed better, even if grey couldn’t imagine how much he was hiding, how much of his suffering he was keeping to himself, color had returned to his face, and that was a good thing.
“ when i win, ” grey countered with a smirk, pressing the buttons on his controller without needing to look at the screen, “ i’ll get you pizza as a consolation prize ” grey flashed a cheeky green, bringing his a game to the table so he could finish the game.
“you’re too cocky, you’ll lose that way.” he taunts but he knows that’s fake, too. they both know how this one will come to a close; the end is near, he can see it coming. grey is scary good when it comes to games, scary good at so many things, though he’s humble and kind and charming. the kid doesn’t know how cute and cool he is. it’s a shame really; if junhyung was anywhere near as likeable, he could really go places. instead, he finds himself a bitter, drug addicted (and recovering) angry, sad old man. the losing screen pops up and he clicks his tongue, a grimace as he scrubs a hand through his hair. “aiish, i was so close....what the hell.” he sighs, sinking into the couch as if it could swallow him into the abyss, his elbow clanking with grey’s at his side. “well,” he exhales through his nose, ignoring the way his stomach churns for a high now that he managed to lose. he grips his fingers in his lap to contain the thoughts. “now, you can finally do your part and pay for dinner. I keep paying for you over and over recently. it’s almost like i like you, i keep forgetting you always do me dirty.” junhyung isn’t good at admitting it, but he’s terribly glad that he has grey.
Reunion
@adjunhyung
Yujin might as well have been wearing a giant neon sign that said I’m lost, I don’t belong here.
Her day had been just fine up to this point; she finished up some final examinations, had presented the tests from a crime scene to her boss, had gotten complimented for her hard work. When she left work, she’d been practically skipping along.
But, of course, she’d decided to try a new route to get home. Routine got boring fast, so Yujin liked to switch things up in her daily life. Theoretically, that should be fine, but Yujin could’ve predicted that she’d get lost.
And now here she was, in a part of town she definitely shouldn’t be in. The houses and people surrounding her looked tired and worn out, and she was pretty sure she saw someone carrying a knife. Fear ran down her spine and she tightened her grip on her bag as she tried to regain her orientation. Should she just turn around and go back the way she came? It would probably be best, but… what if she didn’t remember the way?
Yujin hadn’t stopped walking, but she slowed down a lot as she thought, desperately trying to come up with a solution.
And that’s when she saw him.
Bruised, bleeding, beaten.
Her eyes widened in both fear and sorrow, and though a wise person would’ve turned around and walked away, she moved closer to him until she was stood right in front of him, blocking his path.
“You’re hurt,“ she said softly, as if it wasn’t obvious, voice shaking a bit due to nervousness. “I-I can help you, you shouldn’t be walking around with wounds like these…“
Her eyes drifted up to look at his face and her words died in her throat. He looked familiar, she’d definitely seen him before, only they had both been much younger and it had been Christmas and he hadn’t been alone…
“J-Junhyung?“
Tonight he had trained. Hard. He couldn’t fight like he wanted to anymore, but he could train until his heart was content, all the small fries he trained were more than willing to go head to head with the infamous, once killer, Monster. Scheduling one rookie after another after another, left him physically and emotionally spent. He could no longer tell whether the aches that plagued him were from the sparring sessions or because he hadn’t ingested any kind of drug in several days. He sports a black eye from a lucky punch, though it barely looks much worse than the purple moons that trace beneath his dark orbs. Even his posture is beat down. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see her again. Especially not like this. Not now. He didn’t believe in fate or especially not any fucking Gods or higher powers. But if they existed, they would have spared him this level of fucking torture. She looks like a white horse riding across the plains of hell, lit up red with liquor store signs and dirty grey shades outlining her in all her pastels. The realization hits him harder than any fucking punch ever could. If he hadn’t been exhausted and trained until an inch of losing his humanity, he might have jumped at the sight of her. But in his current state he can only manage a shocked, pale stare. He wanted to fucking run. In the opposite direction. Instead he gulps, apple bouncing in his throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” She sticks out like a lighthouse on a foggy night. His voice is terse, rough as though it had gone unused somehow. His eyes shift to a stranger walking down the sidewalk, across the street and he unconsciously steps closer to her, eyeballing them as though he might attack, and they quickly look away. “You’re a long way from home, princess.” His smile is as crooked and weak as his eyes are bloodshot and his knuckles are bleeding.
