hi guys. i am back with another horrid chapter. (thank god)  expect little and i hope you like it <3 

(also, the gif is already pretty much a warning, i gotta say i felt a little evil doing this chapter)

“That’s pretty rash, even I have to say.” Seokmin said, as casually as possible in the given situation, while he watched with flickering eyes at Boo Seungkwan furiously typing away.

Seungkwan responded with a mere grunt and Seokmin sighed; there was no end to this now. “So what are you updating? What are you saying? Enlighten me, journalism deity.”

Seungkwan didn’t stop typing. “Chwe Hansol.”

Seokmin raised his eyebrows, urging the young journalist to continue. “Further evidence to show drug abuse and rich- parents pay his bail fee.”

“Man, you sure are in love with him. You write about him all the time, I think everyone’s getting tired.”

Silence.

“Is that real by the way?” Seokmin queried, fumbling with a little rubix cube on the desk.

“C’mon. Reality is a bunch of lies put together and twisted around with. It’s the same thing: lies, but built on the basis of truth.” Seungkwan monotonously replies, as if it was a given fact, some common general knowledge like green means go in traffic lights. Seokmin nods, albeit not understanding, and he put the rubix cube back.

After the entire episode, and Seungkwan’s infamous betrayal that spread round the town, the article had benefitted everyone but the group themselves. Seungkwan had been blacklisted; people looked at him and clicked their tongues - after all, horrendous people, in spite of themselves, should not be mingled with. Seungkwan became more so of a source of gossip than an actual person, objectification made a few levels more severe. Seokmin, Jihoon and Jisoo were still human, but approached more carefully and daintily, as if mentioning either Mingyu or Wonwoo would sow dragon seeds.

Everyone handled it differently; some, in despair, some in glee, some in guilt and some in pleasure. Seungkwan, who took a rather impactful blow to the gut when his girlfriend broke up with him, spent more time writing and less on thinking. Writing came rather naturally for him, and fabrications spun from live evidence he phrased sweetly and acridly. His targets never confronted him - Chwe Hansol didn’t really care much, when nothing quite could be changed at this point, and Jeon Wonwoo broke down from over-application of force.

Targets targeting targets was funny, he thought, when he secretly took photographs of a one-sided fight breaking down between Wonwoo and Hansol’s lackeys, who laughed like Hong Kong gangsters. He looked at what he took and thought hard about what could be spun; stared at a single photograph he had of Wonwoo alone in the scene, eyes filled with contempt, and smugly started writing.

The next day - a new article was released. Who cares? Seungkwan thought lazily - people in the town believed anything and everything they heard, from badly photoshopped evidence to misleading visuals. He titled it dramatically, something that caught attention in a split second.

JEON WONWOO TRASHES TEEN ON THE STREETS    

Brilliant. He smiled albeit the monstrosity of the news and of the evidence; elaboration on how Jeon Wonwoo, with nothing but ill intent, slogged the living daylights out of a caring student who preached gently about the words of God and nature. (injuries due to self-defence from the boy)

He looked at the comments, eager. He waited. For things intangible that gave him pleasure.

Jeon Wonwoo looked at the headlines. New, in bold, in black. His fingers shook on the mouse, and his left hand unconsciously touched the half ring of purple around his neck. He laughed. Jeon Wonwoo, fighting? Initiating fights? That had the same connotation as likening swords and swordfish. Surely people did not believe this?

The town is full of idiots.

That included Kim Mingyu, who hadn’t replied to his messages since yesterday.

It was evening, but somehow Wonwoo felt like he’d go somewhere and get a little advice. Some proverbs to live on, he thought, from wise old men drinking beer.

“Life,” off to a theatrical start, “is like a bicycle. Ya keep movin’ to keep your balance.”

Wonwoo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Um, I appreciate it, but I am in the midst of cornering thoughts and unconcerned friends, fake or not.”

Seungcheol pretended to think. “You know what? Just go and punch the out of that reporter. He’s so ing annoying, I’d have beat him to hell by now if I were in your shoes.”

“Yeah, but he’s my friend and I’d be proving today’s article right. That apparently I’ve lost it and gone violent.”

“Howww? You literally look like a moose, gentle as hell.” Soonyoung chimed, and Seungcheol shushed him.

Seungcheol’s eyes darted uneasily. “So, uh, when will you be leaving?”

By now, Wonwoo has abandoned all mannerism and courtesy. “Oh, am I not welcome here?”

It’s funny that every time Wonwoo snaps someone stares at him pitifully like he’d lost his soul and was reborn anew because of ‘traumatic experiences’. Seungcheol sighed. “I meant, Mingyu’s coming soon, you wanna see him or what?”

“Does he?”

Seungcheol gaped. “Well, lil Wonwoo, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Wonwoo sighed. “Sorry. We had a fight.”

Seungcheol nodded, enlightened. “Hm, who’s fault?”

“Mine? I’ve been sending him texts without response.”
“Ah, then stay. I would love to viciously discuss about his bad texting habits and how we can get our revenge.”
“Soonyoung, that’s because you spam him. You don’t text, you literally just send one hundred memes to every single person on your contact list, every hour.”

Soonyoung pouted. “But they’re funny.”

The latter shook his head, defeated.

Mingyu detested summer. That blasted heat, goddamn. You never really understand the saying “like a furnace” till you experience it, and on one of the hottest days ever, he and Wonwoo had to have a fight. Since he saw the blue-black, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Unknowingly, his hands travel to his neck, wondering what whoever did that could’ve made a ring stopped short halfway. Upon receiving texts, he shut his phone, because people like Lee Seokmin plagued it with texts asking to hang out.
Wonwoo’s words continuously rang around the room, like wind chimes in a brewing storm. Since when? He hadn’t seen Jeon Wonwoo in about four days, and the kid had gone mad.

He took a light jacket (just an adjunct, not to cover himself in this heat), but before he could step out of the house, the house phone rang. Mingyu sighed. His mother was at a tea party (legit, i don’t even know why) and all missed calls would directly give his mother the conclusion he’d gone