wippy wip: graham crackers

[dainuhsoar]

            there comes a point in life when you don't know what to do with your life anymore. you're 20 and you live with your parents until they kick you out, you work at a fast food restaurant asking customers 'and do you want fries with that' when they obviously fucking want fries, who the fuck doesn't want fries, you've never had your first kiss, never had your first fuck, you're last place when it comes to employee of the month and you're last in the queue when it comes to getting on the train. and as you rock on your feet, back and forth, using your heels as some kind of pivot, and you look around you and there's no one to watch so you begin to wonder, like really question what in actual hell has your life fallen into?

            you question yourself – your ability to live, your ultimate lack of talent or your complete lack of concern for your lack of talent. you're 20 and you're a talentless waste of space and yeah, you heard your parents call you that when they were pushing you out of the house, and goddamn were they distracting you from your conquest of the boss pokemon.

            woohyun's made plenty of bad decisions to last him a lifetime, like that time when his 13-year-old cousin brought woohyun's 7-year-old ass around the neighborhood, proffered him an explosive to dump into a rubbish bin and woohyun had seen a mailbox blow into bits when his cousin did it, no one was harmed, it seemed kind of cool because explosions so he decided 'what the hey, i'm only 7' and threw the small bundle of reactants into a rubbish bin outside the post office and ran as the bin exploded behind them. or that time when he was 20 and decided 'drugs, yeah, drugs' and 'firecrackers, mm, firecrackers' and used his life savings to buy fuckloads of each, which was what got him kicked out of the house, actually.

            the only decent decision woohyun can sincerely credit himself to is pointing to the blue-and-red tie at the departmental store as sunggyu was holding it and another green-and-red tie to compare, a deep frown on his face as if he had to choose either a new car or a new house.

            sunggyu raised his eyebrows and made a humming sound and said, “you think?” as he put the green-and-red tie down. woohyun nodded and that blue-and-red striped tie became the only tie sunggyu ever wore, and sunggyu became the only real friend woohyun ever had.

            they ran down streets and popped firecrackers in the middle of nights just to 'wake up the neighborhood', sometimes even tossing home-brewed explosives into mailboxes or garbage cans or empty alleys just for the fuck of it – well, at least woohyun did the messing around and sunggyu ran after him, telling him to fucking stop or he'd throw the garbage can lid at his head.

            they were choked up, drugged up, fucked up and on top of the world. they touched, kissed and fucked like there was fire under their skin and only their touch could press the tingling itch away because yeah, when woohyun's face-to-face eye-to-eye with sunggyu, fire will be just an itch. but maybe woohyun didn't want it to go away. sunggyu drew crosses into woohyun's shoulder and chest and thigh with his fingers as if to say 'you are wrong', 'this is wrong' or 'we are wrong' but woohyun wishes it would be 'they are wrong'.

            they were happy and woohyun realized wow he didn't give a shit that he's a talentless gay bum who was essentially disowned by his parents and had an occasional lover, a perpetual best friend in the form of a caramel-haired, blue-and-red tie wearing, lazy motherfucker. because he had shelter above his head, all the drugs and booze on any surface he could see, and an occasional lover and perpetual best friend in the form of, basically, perfection next to him in rumpled sheets.

 

            and suddenly they're running for their lives, from their lives, fast as they can with fire on their trails. sunggyu doesn't know what the hell is going on, just grabbing woohyun's hand and asking what the hell is going on in his head because he knows woohyun doesn't have time for him now, doesn't have time to answer or think about anything except maybe run run run.

 

            woohyun owes a lot of people a lot of money and he's well fucked if he doesn't pay them back. sunggyu laughs in his face because this is the danger he lives for, not the pansy suited up lifestyle he has back home. he hates the noose around his neck and he hates the life waiting for him back there, under his uncle's hand, at his beck and call. sunggyu would rather woohyun wring his own brand of noose, braided with materials called cyanide and happiness, round his neck than go back. so he grabs on when woohyun laughs too, ridiculously worried that sunggyu is insane but certain that he's insane himself to have dragged someone like sunggyu, who had nothing to do with anything, with him.

            sunggyu carries woohyun on his back, woohyun hanging on tightly, throwing arms around sunggyu's neck. they laugh and laugh and the fire carries it away. sunggyu hooks hands under woohyun's thighs, and yeah, he can deal with this kind of noose.