Changkyun has no idea what Jooheon is doing. Honestly, if his best friend is brewing a concoction of alcohol and drugs to feed them, Changkyun wants out. After all, he didn’t even want to be involved in the plan in the first place.

“I mean, what is all this even?” he mutters to himself, dropping his head into his hands. Oops, not the best idea ever, since there’s multicolored paint smeared all over his face.

“What do you mean?” a soft voice asks from his right. Changkyun turns and immediately draws back, cursing mentally. Kihyun smiles, leaning in closer; so close, in fact, that Changkyun can feel the soft exhales of his breath, burning on the delicate skin of his neck.

“Is Jooheon a witch doctor or something?” Changkyun scowls to cover his embarrassment, sneaking a quick glance at Kihyun, who laughs. He sounds sane, and Changkyun realizes that Kihyun is not, as he’d previously thought, drugged.

“He’s just doing what he does best,” Kihyun is saying. “He’s just being Jooheon, and Jooheon is just a boy in the middle of a greater chaos. Jooheon just wants to have some fun because he hates the oppressive atmosphere. He can’t stand it, he says. Not like you, at least.”

Changkyun growls, flushing under Kihyun’s amused gaze. “I put up with it because I have to,” he snaps, refusing to meet Kihyun’s eyes. “Rebelling will only get us caught. Last time we tried something like that, the police nearly broke my spine.”

Kihyun’s eyes turn serious. “You could leave, Changkyun,” he says softly. “You could have been long gone by now, and the fact that you’re not, the fact that you’re still here, running around with us, that is proof enough.”

“Proof of what?” Changkyun almost wishes he could look away, but Kihyun’s eyes hold him enraptured, and he’s drowning in pools of brown, glinting amber in the firelight.

Kihyun smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You know what, Changkyun.” Suddenly, he turns away, linking his hands behind his head, and laughs. “You’re one of us,” he says, voice bright and alive with feeling. “You want to change the world too, because you remember the way it was before. You want to live in a world where it wasn’t so strictly governed, a world where everyone had the freedom to do whatever they wanted.

“You want to be a kid, but you can’t. You have to hold up for us because you’re afraid we’ll leave you behind if you show any sign of weakness. Isn’t that right, Im Changkyun?”

Kihyun turns his head, a faintly victorious gleam in his eye. Changkyun has drawn his knees up to his chest, and his face is buried in his arms. All thoughts about the face paint have been thrown away, and his sleeves are smeared with color.

“Oh, Changkyun.” Kihyun’s voice carries an aching hurt, almost a wish to take the pain away, and Changkyun starts crying.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he sobs, hiccups wracking his body with sporadic jerks. The satisfactory light has long died out from Kihyun’s eyes, and he gathers Changkyun in his arms.

“You’re not,” he whispers, feeling tears drip onto his arm. “Trust me, you’re not.”

The fire crackles, and slowly, Changkyun calms down. Enough, at least, to uncurl himself and wipe the tear streaks from his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

Kihyun smiles softly. “Did I ever tell you, Changkyun?”

Changkyun shakes his head, a defiant smile gracing his lips. “No,” he answers childishly. “Tell me, Kihyun.”

In the firelight, Kihyun seems to glow. His hair seems to form a halo as he leans in close, touching his forehead to Changkyun’s. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Too beautiful, almost, to handle.”

“For you?” Changkyun asks, closing his eyes. “Or for me?”

The softness of Kihyun’s lips is answer enough.