Junho cringed as he watched the torrential downpour through the glass windows by the entrance. Chansung had left a while ago, and Junho had had time to recollect himself, to think things through thoroughly, and to think about ways to best approach the delicate situation between him and his best friend. But first thing was first: he had to find Nichkhun. Junho knew calling wasn't an option - besides, he highly doubted that the Thai prince would pick up, let alone tell him where he was. He sighed; he knew his friend too well. In his state, Nichkhun wasn’t going to go home, which left Junho two options: one which he could rule out from being in the exact building.

Making sure the lights were turned off and the doors were locked, Junho took a step outside, still under the cover of the building. He looked up at the dark sky as the clouds cried heavy tears. Junho couldn’t help comparing his situation with a hurricane.

It had been disastrous with Nichkhun. Chaos, confusion, misinterpretation, destruction: it had hurt. Junho unconsciously rubbed his jaw, though most of the pain had already subsided. And in a way, Chansung had been the eye of the storm. Calming, rays of sunlight breaking through the endless rows of dark clouds in the sky. Junho returned his thoughts to his present surroundings. And there he was, about to get soaked by another storm, literally. He really, really hoped his analogy was wrong. Because hurricanes never left anything behind in peace, more like they left everything behind in pieces.

At least there isn’t any thunder or lightning.
 

- - - - -
 

Nichkhun watched the falling rain from his temporary shelter: two concrete walls facing each other connected by the roof which covered the two picnic tables that sat underneath. He hadn’t been too far away from the spot when the black clouds came storming in but he was still partially wet, his hair damp and part of his clothes now uncomfortably sticking to skin. He pulled on the wet patches and flapped them a little in an effort to dry them off.

He leaned back against the wall from his seat on the table, taking care not to bang his head against the concrete. His face was wet, but he couldn’t differentiate the feeling between his tears and the rain. His anger had boiled down a little bit, distracted by the elements that had forced him to find shelter. Nichkhun looked at the clouds as rain spilt from their gray cores.

You read my mind.

“So Khun, you’re up for tonight right? My place, 9 o’clock.”

It was more of an order than a question, but Nichkhun begrudgingly nodded nonetheless. He knew the drill: they’d hit the bar, or the club, and depending on the crowd, either find their way near a group of prospective girls or they’d hang out near the entrance, making sure Nichkhun was in full view. Soon enough, they’d catch the eye of their female counterparts and Nichkhun would lead the conversation into his buddies and somehow, he’d usually ended up going home early by himself, often turning down his own date. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was hanging with the wrong people, the wrong crowd. He wasn’t even sure why he kept up with this crap, but then, he preferred it over how he spent his time with his female friends.

He knew it was his looks but with the girls, they’d get too close, too fast. And all in all, in the end, he had to turn them down before he found himself in a relationship he didn’t want. And he hated it. It had happened too many times for coincidence - he didn't like breakng their hearts, because most of them had given them to him before he had even registered that they were interested.

“Aren’t you guys too young to be meeting girls at the bar?”

Nichkhun was brought back from his reverie and looked up from where he had been staring down a pebble on the ground. The boy in front of him had small eyes and a clever mouth that was made for smiling, something he wasn’t doing at the moment. His name was Junho and Nichkhun had seen him around before, but they never really talked. They had both taken guitar class together at the conservatory of music a long while back, before he switched to piano and Junho to percussion. They’d known of each others existence for years, but that was about it.

“What’s it to you?” Nichkhun’s friend demanded sharply, eyeing the newcomer with interest.

Junho shrugged. “Just thought you should act more your age.”

“People our age are smoking joints and having , and you’re saying we shouldn’t be going to a bar.”

“Well if you’re gonna be picking up girls, shouldn’t you be doing it yourself?” Junho replied unkindly. “Get a backbone,” he added, before turning and for a split second, Nichkhun wasn’t sure who that last comment had been directed to.

“,” his friend muttered as Junho walked off.

Nichkhun didn’t say anything. Something inside of him agreed with Junho, but he was too afraid to admit it.