The days turned into agonizing nights and Jongin hated it.

He hated how he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy everything like before.

He hated it how his mind would wander back to those pills and that man who’d introduced them to him.

He hated how the woman beneath him was not enough to make him feel pleasure.

He’d already gone through those three pills and Jongin hated to admit that he wanted more. More of them and more of what they offered. Every single drop of insanity they gave him was unbelievably precious.

That was why he stood here, in front of the club’s door, tucked in some back streets and dark alleys. His mind was rushing with all kinds of thoughts but all the more, what made him push the door in was the promise of the bittersweet taste. The place was packed at past one in the morning, people still dancing and drinking. Jongin spared a glance around but the dim lights didn’t show him any sign of that forsaken man.

Thus, he decided to walk towards the restrooms, just where he’d found him the first time.

The whole staircase stunk booze and he found the same crowd there like last time; junkies and addicts, and the occasional couple that made-out. Jongin passed them all but not without staring at the lost cases for people sitting on the ground, trapped in their own high, syringes hanging from the inside of their elbows. No, Jongin would never end up like that. He would never stoop that low.

He was just testing waters.

Further down the hall, he found the man he despised with all his being. He stood against the wall, smoking on some cigarette Jongin doubted to be legal. Half of his hair was caught in a messy ponytail, hanging from the back top of his head. His clothing worn, dirtied with all kinds of markings, stained from restless nights and mornings at unknown beds. His skin was spotted, as if it was stained from the midnight touches as well. His whole appearance screamed trouble but Jongin found himself finding something else.

What it was, he didn’t know.

But he swore it was something beautiful.

The man lowered his cigarette from his mouth, lips parting just enough to let a thick cloud of white into the air, as he looked up at Jongin who approached. Jongin could not see a single emotion in his eyes and that was enough to ensure him said man was beyond reality at that very moment. He was most likely trapped in the same high the rest of the junkies around them were.

“Came to ask for another night?” The man asked, his thin, calloused fingers bringing the smoking stick back to his lips. “You know, I am not that generous. I have to survive somehow.” His voice was so hoarse as if he’d been drinking non-stop the past couple hours.

“Stop acting like a ,” Jongin grumbled. He was angry. He hated the man; he hated his face and everything he’d done to him. But he also knew he was the only one he knew of that had what he had been asking for the past few days. “I came for what you gave me. I will buy it off you.”

The man let a chuckle, amusement almost reaching his eyes, but not really.

He barely wore any emotion on his face.

“It’s not for sale.”

“Then tell me who sells it.”

“No can do.” Jongin was burning from anger as the man blew smoke into his face. The smell had already confirmed his previous assumptions since the whole hall stunk of weed.

With a swift move, Jongin grabbed the other by the collar of his shirt, pinning him against the wall. He barely saw some surprise in his eyes but the stone-hard expression on his face did not even falter. It was as if the man was so exhausted he didn’t care about being man-handled like that. He didn’t appear to care about anything at all. “Listen here, you -er. You either tell me or I will beat your into the nearest hospital.”

A smirk played on his lips, so desperate, so tired, so done of everything. And the man leaned closer to Jongin’s face, his breath carrying the aroma of as he spoke of a light challenge; “Then do so. I’ve been waiting for it.”

“I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Someone to wake me up.”

“Someone to knock the air out of me.”

“The sense out of my head.”

“Someone to knock me out of this world.”

“And into the Hell I escaped from.”

***

Jongin looked down at Luhan.

His name was Luhan, as he had gotten to know after their first encounter. He remembered he’d pulled him out of the club and threatened him some more but he didn’t get what he wanted. Therefore, Jongin returned to the club the following night with a nice pack of money to lure the other. Only to be refused.

“What do you want from me? I need those ing pills.”

“You’ll have to offer more than that, little boy.”

And he would blow illegal smoke into Jongin’s face, his eyes hooded over the exhaustion.

“You’ll have to trade your sadness for the paradise.”

“You’ll have to trade everything for a speckle of peace.”

Luhan was a mess, so much Jongin had gotten to know, too.

He seemed to be out of this world, his mind working differently, strangely. Jongin couldn’t understand his way of thinking, his way of moving and carrying himself. He couldn’t understand his motives, his pain and hurt. It was unique.

Uniquely sad.

But Jongin came back to him with the promise of his life, and what he got in return made everything worth it. Everything felt different, more vivid, new. Somehow, the next morning was so sweet, the new day so welcoming. And he was back at his bed, the unknown junkie by his side fast asleep, opening his eyes to meet the white ceiling to the sound of light snoring.

He could feel the unusual warmth of the room. It was weird.

But he liked it.

And he stretched his hand to reach the nightstand by his side, and popped yet another pill in his mouth.

Shortly after, everything would be instantly fixed. Even if it was for a short while, it was right.

This was right.

And everything would be fine as long as he had this piece of para