dead in a ditch.
CHEM X — what really happened, part 1.
with @ncdoug, @ncjaein, and @ncyeonju.
it's easier than she expected. maybe it has something to do with the drugs in her system, or the sudden rage that just took over her at the sight of his smug, sleazy smile. he lands with a loud thump and she's certain she heard a crack the moment his head makes contact with the bottom of the staircase. even in this state of mind, the reality of what she just did dawns on her.
"i swear i didn't mean to do that."
jaein — things happen in slow motion. yua pushes and junyoung falls. he falls backwards, head first and lands at the bottom of the landing like a broken marionette. all the while, jaein laughs. they're terrible people, but yua isn't. yua's a good girl who's maybe too naive for her good but she's not a killer, she's not like the rest of them. it all takes a second to process, the laughters still lilting off of her tongue but her hands are clinging to the hem the railing white knuckled in terror. "junyoung, get the fuck up." she heard the crack as well as anyone else, and jaein's no doctor but she knows enough about the human anatomy to know he's in a bad way. "seriously get up, people might think you're dead or something."
doug — he runs to the railing—it happens too fast for him to yell—but when he hears the sudden crack against concrete his mouth gives way to sound. it's enough of a fall to make him recoil and his hands fist into balls by his chest still cold from the metal banister. "whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck, yua?!" he cries out, eyes shot wide. jaein's laughter bounces off the walls in giant waves and doug's heart beats on overdrive. his feet don't budge, though. he can't lift them. "hyung?"
yeonju — she’s thoroughly inebriated, careless with the way she handles her vices. pop a pill, wash it down. many more to follow in once the high hits an hour in. she’s barely focused enough to notice (instead, cigarette in hand, her eyes are fixated on her phone) attention drawn only from the photo app at doug’s cries. “what?” a laugh, “wait what—what’d she do?” yeonju bites onto the butt, inhaling deeply while she steps forward, fingers curling around the rail support as she leans into doug, peeking from over his shoulder. “what the fuck?” it comes out as a laugh—disbelief perhaps—“this a joke?” yeonju presses her free hand into the boy’s back, “move, doug—go.”
yua — "i'm sorry — i didn't mean to." she takes a step back, followed by another, her gaze never leaving junyoung's body at the bottom of the staircase she rubs her eyes when she thinks she sees red. no. that's just the drugs making shit up. "he — he's fine. he has to be." funnily enough, she doesn't want him to be. deep down, she knows he deserved it. but it doesn't stop her voice from quivering and her hands from trembling. after all, she did just push a man to his death. a sorry excuse of a man, but someone nonetheless.
jaein — it's automatic, the need to run down the stairs and check on him— human instinct and nothing more. she doesn't like junyoung, not really, but there's some overwhelming concern in her to check on him. jaein needs to abate her fears. he can't be dead, not really, who the fuck dies at twenty-five? who the fuck gets pushed by a girl half his age and dies? her feet beat hard against concrete stairs and the closer she gets the more she can see the aftermath of it all. his chest isn't moving, his eyes gaze into nothingness, she bets if she touched him there wouldn't be a hint of a pulse. "jesus christ," she kneels closer to him trying to shake the panic that rises in her voice. she looks to the top of the stairs and face mirroring something close to confusion or anger, she's not sure which anymore. "jesus fucking christ, he's not breathing!"
doug — the hand against his back sends shivers straight down his spine and to the ends of his toes and they curl in his sneakers. the ball of his foot lifts off when jaein runs down and he's suddenly two steps behind her. "hyung!" he yells again. not even dead static. with hands splayed out and legs twisted, junyoung's nothing but a dead wishbone. doug wishes he'd come the fuck back up for air. jaein's voice sounds like water in his ears and hands reach out for junyoung's jacket collar even though he's fucking terrified of the picture on the other side. hands shaking violently, he turns junyoung over. his nose is out, that much is for sure. red pools all around his nostrils and mouth, and there's a peculiar glinting lustre about his gray face. the kind of sheen that whispers to doug that they're all hellbound.
“hyung. what the fuck. you’re just playin’ with us, right? that’s what this is. wake the fuck up man. you're just playin. stop fuckin' playin.”
yeonju — of the four she is frozen, heels glued to the floor and dilated pupils fixed on the broken body at bottom of the stairs. wisps of smoke slipping past parted lips. for a long moment, time is slowed, attention stolen by red spilled across skin, the glazed look in his eyes. then, unfreeze. “shit,” she curses, eyes flicking over the entrance of the alleyway, noting the occasional car in passing. “fuck,” yeonju hisses, discarding the cigarette to make her way down, hand gripping onto the railway tightly. “we need to get him inside, now!”
yua — doug turns him around and yua stills. so it wasn't the drugs fucking with her vision. finally, she looks away, gaze now on yeonju who tells them to get him inside. but her feet are planted on the concrete floor, unwilling to follow the older girl's instructions. instead, tears start welling up and she goes into panic mode. "no no no no, this was not supposed to happen." her back faces them now as she remains at the top of the staircase. "god, what the fuck?!"
jaein — there are things in life jaein's never considered— what it feels like to put her hand in a pool of blood, what it feels like to take a dead man in her arms, what it feels like to know she's damned for the rest of eternity. it's only the adrenaline that keeps her going, that convinces her it's a good idea to tug at a corpse and try her best to pull it up with her menial strength. they never tell you what to do in moments like these. schools never teach what should happen if you accidentally murder someone. but the feeling of a dead man's body leaning against hers throws her mind into over gear trying to figure out where to go next, what to do next, how to get out of this fucked up situation. "fucking get down here and help us, yua!" she can feel hot tears cascading down her face and she can hear the way her voice shakes with fear and anger, "it's your mess you should help clean it up."
yua — he deserved it, she tells herself in her head as she paces around, tears rolling down her face. christ, she isn't nearly as high enough for this as she should be. jaein's harsh words snap her out of it and she hastily wipes the tears away with the back of her hands, sniffling a little. "right — i'm sorry." this is her mess. she was the one that pushed him. she was the one that killed him. but that's all they know — aside from doug. and there's so much more behind it than just a mere push that stemmed from a simple argument. she jogs down the stairs, stumbling a little when she makes it down. for some reason, carrying the dead body doesn't bother her as much as it should. not when she already killed the guy. that takes the cake. she hardly feels any regret when she looks at his face. all she can see is that stupid, smug smile seconds before she pushed him.
doug — his head's lost in the gutter and it's sewage all around him. the body's not even a minute in and doug's already warding off thoughts of decomposition as his stomach pumps harder to quell any chance of upchuck. at least now that he's facing up the blood won't drag onto the concrete but having to look at junyoung's face like this isn't doing anyone any favors. after a moment's struggle they break the threshold and junyoung's halfway into the entryway. doug lets yua and jaein drag him the rest of the way in as he scampers towards the back and shuts—locks the door. their breathing is ragged in the quiet that follows. "w-." he starts, pathetically. "is." he tries again. "can." his mouth's parched and his brain's not letting him finish any sentences tonight. doug grits through the haze. "can someone check his pulse or something."
yeonju — she's seen bodies. death by overdose. by being at the wrong place at the wrong time. by carrying the wrong drugs for the wrong people. this shouldn't be any different. yet it is, because she knows him. it is, because the killer, the guilty party—lies with yua. and by association, them. it is because they're involved now, hands covered in blood, hands chilled on a body of waning warmth. fuck. "he's dead, doug." yeonju wishes she could strive for a better way to put it. but as it is, things are already hard to navigate with bone, blood, skin thrumming on a high. but to better satisfy his nerves (not really), yeonju kneels beside the body, fingers pressing into the under of his jaw. nothing. "dead," she repeats, almost spatting while she reaches for the pack of smokes in her pocket. finding it unable to think with her mind on such a high. "why—" her eyes turn to them, brows furrowed. and perhaps it is fucked up, but yeonju is more so worried about the repercussions than the act itself. "why the fuck did you push him?"
doug — dead. the statement hits him like a boulder. two years in the gang and he's always found it funny that the word never crossed his path until this moment. when yeonju sinks her teeth into yua like that—it feels like the boulder's sunken to the bottom of the ocean floor. it's another thud that gets his pulse racing and that's when he remembers: the words leading up to the fall and everything before it. the way so many weeks ago junyoung pinned yua to a corner and pressed a thumb to her cheek like she was prey. why the fuck did you push him. doug's breath hitches. he looks up.
jaein — words sit at the tip of her tongue, a million things jaein's dying to say but no words come out. instead, she's squats looking at junyoung's lifeless body because morbid curiosity won't let her tear her eyes away. bloodied hands sit steeple an pressed against her face. it's all so surreal she can barely process anything that's going on, everything sounds like static and she only makes out select words, "pulse" and "dead" and the tail end of whatever yeonju's saying. only then does jaein look up, eyes focused on yua and her naïve looking face and then her gaze trails back down to junyoung, cold and dead on the floor. "it's not like she was aiming to shove him down a fucking staircase yeonju," jaein snaps, and she's not so sure why. she's just as curious as everyone else and yet there's an urge to defend yua's innocence, something still pure and stable to cling to. "i'm sure we all have our reasons for wanting to shove junyoung, he's a piece of shit."
yua — why the fuck did you push him? yua looks up at yeonju like a deer caught in headlights before immediately looking away. the vivid memory replays in her head again, as it did during the argument, as it did right before she pushed him. "i — i didn't mean to." she mumbles, hugging herself in the corner of junyoung's shitty living room as if that'll make her disappear. that doesn't answer yeonju's question and she's well aware of it. still, even in a moment like this, the truth — the reason sits on her tongue like the pills she had taken earlier, just sitting and waiting to be let out. "but he," sniffling, she looks over at his body. "he deserved it." she meets doug's eyes for a brief moment. "you know he did."
yeonju — take a breath. before you say something wrong. yeonju knows fully well what sits on her twitching tongue, threatening to slip out. her eyes flutter wildly, mouth dry, heart pounding a mile a minute. it is impossible to think like this, she knows, already pulling out a cigarette to replace her last one. in desperate need to for a depressant. "there is a difference," she starts, biting out the words as she lights the smoke, "between fucking up someone who deserves it," her eyes flick over to jaein, narrowing slight. "and completely screwing us over—you know that right?" who they'll report this to—who will handle it at yuripa, yeonju doesn't even want to think about. "i need a fucking drink." she mumbles, pushing herself up. "and we need to get rid of the body."
doug — doug's upper lip bubbles with sweat. the fan in junyoung's apartment winds above their heads and the sirens outside his window blare on like any other day in the life but the look in yua's eyes takes him back to one day in particular that sits heavy in his heart. he looks away. "junyoung's..." another sentence left unfinished but the silence says enough; doug's voice goes deeper, softer, like a scratch on the wall. "it was an accident." he says, to yeonju, to yua, to no one in particular, to junyoung. it sounds like an apology.
yua — yua covers her face with her hands, bloody fingers tightening around her hair. killer is the last thing someone would link back to her. it's the last thing she wants to call herself. yet, here she is. literal blood on her hands, and on her friends' as well. all of them are gonna get shit for this and it's all her fucking fault. she removes her hands from her face and she's back to staring at junyoung's dead body. "no — we shouldn't move the body. we... we need to put him back in the stairwell." her words are frantic as she fights the urge to wipe the blood on her hands onto the wall behind her. "'cos it was an accident."
yeonju — yeonju finds it hard to think, dragging her feet over to the kitchen counter, her hand reaches for the closest plastic cup and downs it in favor of relieving her cottonmouth, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves. vaguely, she hears doug speak, knowing fully well that it was their only option now. "we already moved the body," the frown on her lips deepens, bloodied fingers rubbing into her temple as she turns to face them, eyes flicking from yua to doug to jaein and to the dead body laying on the floor, "listen, everyone at joule saw us together. he," she points at the body for emphasis. "was nowhere near high enough to get into an "accident" — none of us can be tied to this, none."
doug — “—but he took an extra hit.” doug interrupts. “that’s how this whole thing started.”
yua — she's read enough books, seen enough news on this to somehow get an inkling of what they could do to save themselves from this mess. "can't we just... make it look like he was high enough?" in other words, pump his body with enough drugs to make it look like he overdosed. he was nearing that line anyway.
yeonju — "and what? you're going to do it?" shes snappish, rightfully so, lips downturned as she looks around. "fine, we'll shoot him up and throw him down the stairs—and then we'll go home and it'll be like none of this ever happened." she eyes her friends, lips pressed. "i'm serious, tell no one."
doug — "wait—before that." doug kneels down. as if in a trance he takes junyoung's right arm into his hands, guiding junyoung's hand into the pocket of his sweatpants to claw out his phone. it lands onto the floor but doug carefully guides it back up to junyoung's stomach with his deadweight hand. the deadweight hand unlocks the phone with its deadweight thumb. doug stands up with wobbly knees but he fights past the nausea. "you guys... do what you have to do. there's more [omitted] in my backpack if you need it. i'm gonna try somethin'."
yua — yua slowly nods, getting up with weak knees. the tears have stopped coming, because quite frankly, he didn't deserve them. right now, she needs to get her shit together and help the rest of them out. "i'll get some more..." she walks to the kitchen, opening the cabinet beneath the sink and reaching under for the stash she knows he keeps there. with shaky hands, she drops the wrapped bag filled with a variety of drugs beside his body. she averts her gaze when she spots something painfully familiar among the pills. he deserved it.
yeonju — yeonju watches absently, noting the way her fingers shake with mounting irritation as she inhales, lashes fluttering with the nicotine filling her lungs and chest. "try whatever you need to." if it'll actually help. though it's difficult to worry, instead her attention fixates on the lifeless body beside her, eyes flicking over the scattered drugs laid out before them (and resisting the urge to take some herself). "well we can't make him swallow any—" she curls her fingers around a needle, digging through the assortment for a vial, "yua, lift him up."
yua — yua bites her bottom lip, doing as yeonju says and lifting junyoung's body up with a bit more struggle than earlier, stretching out his left arm in the process. it seems that the numbness from the drugs is starting to wear off. instead, an overwhelming sense of dread sets in, more than earlier now that the high slowly leaves her body.
jaein — there's something funny about this. everyone assumes their roles so easily. yeonju leads the pack, doug grabs the drugs, yua preps junyoung. everyone has their equal part in damning them all to hell, and jaein sits by idly all the meanwhile. if it weren't so macabre she might laugh. she's a genius who can't manage to wrap her head around what's gone wrong. when did they all become so well versed in murder and how to get away with it? slowly, she steps forward and kneels down next to yua and junyoung. "well come on now, if we're going to cover up a murder let's at least make it look realistic, huh?" there's a sing-song tone to her voice, as if it's all a game. gone is the shrieking and the fearful undertone, she's calm and steady as she pulls off her belt and tightens it around his cold graying arm, "let's make him look like a real junkie lowlife, that way the cops won't even begin to bother to care."
doug — doug paws off the sweat running down his face with the back of one hand as the other sifts through endless pages of junyoung’s contacts. the characters blur into one another on the screen; the sigh doug lets out is harsh, battered with frustration. the high is still rocking his system. "where the fuck is it, coulda sworn hyung had it in here somewhere." he thinks back to a conversation that'd taken place over a half-squashed cigarette.
“what? whaddya mean?” doug had gawked.
“i mean, they’re gone. they lost the goods, so i made sure they got lost, too.” junyoung returned, waving his phone boastfully. doug had barely caught a glimpse of the name but there it was.
it'd made him shiver then the same way it makes him shiver now even though the rest of his body and the bodies scurrying around him are burning up from anticipation and adrenaline and the drugs.
with one last swipe, he finds the clearing. there it is.
he jots the number down onto his phone, then locks junyoung’s. his feet shuffle back hurriedly to yeonju’s side and he places the phone next to the corpse. "okay," he says, before a sudden realization dawns on him. “fuck,” doug looks at junyoung's phone. "fingerprints, i forgot."
