nameless
this is a preview of a fic i’ll probably never finish but please enjoy! ft. our precious qian kun of course :)
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You vaguely registered how antisocial you must appear, sitting at the lonesome end of the dining table and staring into the depths of your half-empty glass. Donghyuck’s laughter overpowered the others’ voices and it almost brings a smile to your face. His attitude was certainly warmer than some of the others you’d met that night; the 18 men (or rather, boys) were clearly not fond of newcomers.
For most of the evening they’d spared only sideways glances and whispers to one another, but a handful of them sympathising enough to actually engage in any conversation.
Kun was one of the former. Despite your close proximity (who decided they’d try and squeeze everyone out onto the tiny patio anyway?) he hasn’t so much as looked at you in at least half an hour - the last glimpse of contact being when your glass almost slipped from your grasp and slammed to the table with a thud. With a sharp look to aforementioned glass and an even colder glance at your face, he turned back to the younger boy beside him without a word. What was his name again? Chan? Chen? Ah, Chenle.
You’re reaching for the phone in your pocket when Johnny pipes up at the other end of the table, unceremoniously removing himself from the tiny wooden bench that had miraculously managed to seat four of them (although you swear you hear something snap when he stands), “Anyone want some of Taeil’s hidden vodka?”
There’s an uproar of laughter as Taeil’s ears turn a dark shade of red and he glares at his friend, definitely vowing to get some form of payback later.
You’re smiling and watching their interaction as you reach for your own glass, hand enveloping around something that’s definitely /not/ your drink. Eyes snapping to the table, you see that you’d grabbed someone else’s - and that someone else had just so happened to reach for it at the same time.
Kun’s hand was warm beneath yours. His skin was soft and an odd sense of dejavú sweeps over you; for a moment you feel like you might faint.
You suppose you must have frozen for a second too long because before you even realise what’s happening, Kun has ripped his hand from yours and his glass has toppled to its side - spilling whatever alcoholic concoction Johnny had made over both of your laps.
You gasped and pushed your chair back, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you as you looked at an equally shocked Kun. He glanced at you for only a second, eyes cold and judging, before turning to Chenle and calmly asking for him to pass a tissue.
Not everyone was silent. Half of the table remained deep in conversation, while those closest to you stared at you and Kun with a variety of emotions - sympathy, pity, amusement. Someone placed a pile of tissues in front of you but you instead found yourself abruptly standing, nodding slightly before speaking, “I-I’ll just go clean up in the bathroom.”
You felt humiliated as you clambered your way around the patio and through the screen doors, trying your best not to make eye contact with anyone on the way. Kun didn’t even spare you a glance, talking and smiling with the boys around him.
His smile was beautiful.
You found the bathroom quickly and slammed the door shut behind you, turning the lock and leaning against it with a sigh. Why were you even here?
Mark. Mark had invited you to meet his friends. You’d thought maybe he pitied you; the times you’d spoken he’d never heard you speak about your own friends, let alone seen you with any. You weren’t a loner, you knew plenty of people - you just preferred your own company. Friends make things… complicated, anyways.
You can hear footsteps approaching and you quickly check your reflection in the mirror, realising you’d completely forgotten about the rapidly drying liquid on your front and an ugly brown stain was beginning to form in its place. The person passed by and you breathed a sigh of relief. You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath.
You turn the tap on and grab some toilet roll to dab at the stain, mind wandering to Kun as you do so. His smile was beautiful. Like really, really pretty, and you found yourself frowning as you realised he hasn’t once directed that smile at you. He really seemed to hate you.
You think back to when you’d met him just over an hour earlier, when you’d met almost all of them, and he hadn’t even greeted you. Nothing more than a quick glance your way. Not even when Mark told you to sit next to him did he show an ounce of kindness - for whatever reason, he refused to make eye contact with you.
It was his smile that had distracted you earlier, that had led to your ‘incident’. He was smiling fondly at Johnny and Taeil, his teeth (which you thought were perfect-looking to be real) peeked out from behind his rosy lips and you felt yourself smiling too. That was when you’d grabbed his glass, or rather, his hand.
Something felt weird. Something was telling you that Kun wasn’t new. Something was telling you that you knew him, that that wasn’t the first time you’d seen him smile or felt his skin.
You closed your eyes as a wave of nausea hit you and you pressed your hands against the cool porcelain of the sink to hold yourself upright. What the fuck?
You remember his laugh. The way his nose would crinkle and his eyes would light up, how it sounded like an angel singing and you’d give your soul to hear it just one more time.
You felt yourself panic. Not because you think you have a crush on someone you literally just met, but because you can picture it so clearly, can hear his laughing ringing in your ears, you know you’ve never heard it before. Not once has he laughed in your company, so why is the memory so clear?
You took another deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror, you’d began to dab at the stain so ferociously that the lower half of your shirt was practically dripping. Your face had become pale and your eyes frightened. Your head was still pounding. You’re brushing your fingers through your hair, attempting to make yourself look at least a little presentable before you climb out of the bathroom window and never see any of these people again. You were genuinely contemplating this escape when the sound of something crashing outside broke your trance.
There was the distant sound of shouting from outside, more footsteps in the hallway, and then something heavy crashed against the bathroom door. You put a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from shouting. Had they gotten into a fight with each other?
The sound of something loud and sharp cut the momentary silence and you swear you could hear your own heart pounding. You weren’t an expert but that was definitely a gunshot. A fucking gunshot.
You were making your way towards the window, finally deciding that the sooner you get out of this mad house the better, when someone knocked on the bathroom door. You turned for only a second to see the handle move up and down, whoever wanted in clearly getting impatient, before reaching for the window and using all your might to push it open. Something hit the door and you whimper as the window failed to budge.
You heard the door open before you saw it. It practically flew off its hinges, landing on the floor with an almost-deafening bang. You felt a shiver make its way down your spine as you looked to the assailant, not even sure of what you were expecting.
It certainly wasn’t Lucas. He was staring back at you with an equal look of surprise before he smiled to himself and ran back down the corridor.
What the everloving fuck were you doing in a house with these crazy people?
You moved forward and stepped around the door, the rest of the house now eerily quiet. You’d only just noticed a suspicious red stain on the wall outside when you hear an overwhelming surplus of footsteps come your way. You took a step backwards into the bathroom before realising that without a door there’s no where to hide anyway. You’d made your way over to the window and started attempting to open it again when someone spoke behind you.
“Is this occupied?”
You worried you may have given yourself whiplash from turning so quickly to stare at a boy grinning at you. His hair looked like a bird’s nest and his shirt has been ripped completely down one side, but he still managed to look handsome. You tried to recall who he was and the name Yuta came to mind. You were too stunned to respond when Taeyong appeared behind him, “Yuta, shut up. Now isn’t the time for jokes.”
The boy in question pressed a hand to his heart and acted hurt as Taeyong rolled his eyes behind him. You felt assured now that these people were crazy and coming here was a mistake.
Yuta stayed in the doorway as Taeyong continued down the corridor and you heard the front door open. The others followed soon after. At least half of them follow the pink-haired boy, none even sparing a glance at you or Yuta. You vaguely registered the sound of a car ignition and skidding tyres before Yuta took a step towards you and you equally took one backwards.
You didn’t have any time to react before there was six people in the room and you felt vastly outnumbered. You didn’t have any time to move out of the way before Kun had emerged from the group, taking two long strides towards you and raising his arm. Assuming he was about to hit you, you flinch and push yourself as close to the window as you can. Instead, his points a finger accusingly inches from your face. You couldn’t help but notice that his clothes were ripped, too, and a bruise was forming on his right cheek. His voice was accusing, venomous: “You did this. You fucking did this, I know you did.”