A/n: This is only a half-chapter of Kaisoo scene because their timeline is seriously far behind everyone else and they need to catch up. So yeah. Enjoy!

TW: Drug use; needles;

After Jongin left, Kyungsoo didn’t leave the house unnecessarily. He bulk shopped at the grocery store, stocking up enough to last him a week so he wouldn’t have to come back so soon. Rather than walking, he drove to work and parked his car a block away from the café, going straight home at the end of his shift. It wasn’t that he wanted to lock himself in – fear was the last thing on his mind; he would take on anyone who dared to come after him – but Jongin had always told him to stay safe, and Kyungsoo had ignored it before but now he felt like, if it was what Jongin wanted, that was something he should respect. And he wasn’t just doing what Jongin told him to do, either, because Kyungsoo didn’t have to listen to Kim Jongin. Kyungsoo wanted to take care of himself, no matter what Jongin thought; because even if Jongin died soon – or maybe was already dead, Kyungsoo didn’t know – Kyungsoo planned on living and enjoying a long life, and he couldn’t do that if some punks murdered him, now could he? So there. The only reason this had anything to do with Jongin whatsoever was because the kid had gotten Kyungsoo into this mess in the first place.

Besides, he didn’t even know if Jongin ever planned on coming back, whether he lived or not. He might just stay away from Kyungsoo from now on, maybe even quit his job and find somewhere else to work, somewhere to live. As a drug abuser and close friend of a dealer, there had to be a web of connections he could reach out to who were more on his level. Jongin had stayed at Kyungsoo’s for a month as it was, and they were so different. He never went out of his way to talk with Kyungsoo, even when they ate dinner together (which was the only time they’d really spent together as it was), on the rare times he was home. Which wasn’t often. The small amount of time he actually stayed in Kyungsoo’s place, the lack of contact he kept with Kyungsoo, and even now, their limited conversation at work… Sure, Jongin had given Kyungsoo a toy sheep as a thank you, but really, nothing had changed after that. It was just an ‘I feel bad that we have to put up with one another so I did something nice for you’ present. Right? Jongin had probably been waiting for the opportunity to be freed from Kyungsoo from the day Kyungsoo had forced him to come stay at his place. Jongin hadn’t even wanted to come, but Kyungsoo had made him… But he was gone now, so that was great for both of them. Now neither of them had to suffer, at least not by the cause of one another.

Kyungsoo had no idea why he still felt like crying three nights after Jongin was gone. He wouldn’t let himself, of course, but he clung tightly to Dareun while he slept, whom he had wrapped up in Jongin’s shirt. It still smelled like him.

On the fourth night alone, Kyungsoo tucked himself in around eleven after a long day at work. He had called Joonmyun, his boss – well, the son of the man who owned the chain of coffee shops; Joonmyun ran the one Kyungsoo worked in – to tell him Jongin wouldn’t be able to come in for a few days because he was sick, and Kyungsoo had promised to pick up whatever shifts of Jongin’s he could. However, he wasn’t sure how long the whole “sick” thing was going to last for. A week at most, he guessed. He didn’t know if he would have to keep lying – if Jongin didn’t come back to Kyungsoo’s, then he really wouldn’t have any contact with him (unless Jongin called him by chance, or if he came by to pick up his backpack, which Kyungsoo had grabbed from their work and taken home; it was now sitting in the corner of his bedroom, unopened by Kyungsoo). Kyungsoo had taken two extra shifts in the past three days, adding to the two of his own, and yeah, he was pretty exhausted from all the hours he was overworking. His eyes closed willingly the moment his head hit the pillow, not allowing for a single worried thought about anything going on in the world. Sleep was all that mattered for the next several hours.

When his eyes next opened, his room was still very dark, curtains only dimly lit up by starlight and the glow of the city. Unsure as to what his reason for awakening was, Kyungsoo glanced at the brightly shining numbers on his alarm clock, which read 3:13. Sleepily, he reached out for the cell phone resting beside the clock, flicking on the screen but finding no messages or notifications there. His gaze wandered to his window. Now and then a loud noise from the street, or maybe a banging on the floor above him, was enough to pull him out of his sleep. He had no reason to be paranoid.

He sighed, letting his eyelids fall shut again and taking control of his breathing. There were no signs of disturbance; it was possible he had just woken up without cause. Rolling over with his back to the door, he pulled Dareun to his chest and tried to fall back asleep. Things grew calm again, and Kyungsoo slowly inhaled the faint scent of Jongin exuding from the clothed toy in his arms, the scent that had a sort of lulling effect on Kyungsoo. His mind dipped back into lethargic black clouds, silence cloaking him and suffocating his consciousness, and he was drifting off…

The subtle click! of his bedroom door opening made his heart nearly jump out of his chest. His eyes flashed open, ears straining to hear the door softly swinging open, the gentle padding of footsteps crawling across his bedroom floor. There was someone in his room, approaching him carefully but somewhat assertively, as though they believed him to be asleep. They had come in his front door – they had to have; the sound perhaps had been what jolted Kyungsoo out of his sleep in the first place – and now they were moving towards his bed and oh gosh, I’m going to die.

Kyungsoo jammed his eyes shut, heart thundering deafeningly in his ears and stomach feeling like it was twisting itself into knots. The sound of the footsteps deceased as they reached the edge of his bed, and nothing happened for a brief moment. Kyungsoo could feel eyes on him, and in his mind he pictured a man with a knife, standing over him, basking in this moment before he would slit Kyungsoo’s throat. Oh no, oh no… I can’t die like this. There was nothing for him to do but feign sleep as he felt weight sinking the other side of the bed down, tugging on the blankets covering him. His grip on Dareun tightened, as if he were protecting the poor sheep when the toy had nothing to worry about.

As he lay there, doing his best to act dead, something brushed along his shoulder, causing his heart to temporarily stop, breath catching in his throat. The touch moved to his hair, sweeping strands behind his ear and then returning down his body again. Fingers enclosed around Kyungsoo’s upper arm, and he was shaken lightly, as if to be woken up. Kyungsoo had stopped breathing several seconds ago, and his throat felt very constricted, a nauseous sensation burning there. His muscles tensed as he was shaken again and his eyes squeezed tighter, tears starting to pool behind his lids.

“Kyungsoo…”

The voice punched itself through Kyungsoo’s chest, and he gasped. Eyes flying open, he rolled onto his back and stared at the stranger in his room. It wasn’t a stranger at all, however – it was Jongin. Before he could even speak, Kyungsoo was sitting up and throwing his arms around Jongin’s neck, pulling him into a bone-breaking hug.

“Jongin!” His voice squeaked slightly, but he didn’t even care. Kyungsoo took a deep breath, in Jongin’s scent, and it wasn’t the same but it was still him somehow and Kyungsoo couldn’t believe it was him. Arms moved around his torso, holding him much more carefully than Kyungsoo was, but Kyungsoo didn’t care to be gentle right now. Jongin felt so cold, the exposed skin on his arms pressing against Kyungsoo’s back and into the heat he found there, but he was real and he was alive and that was what mattered.

“Hi hyung,” he breathed, words tumbling across Kyungsoo’s neck.

There were a million things Kyungsoo wanted to say to him, but instead he just held on for a long time, chest swelling with relief that Kim Jongin was here, and that meant he was okay and that hopefully he was staying and Kyungsoo wouldn’t have to worry anymore and he wasn’t going to have to be alone.

“You’re such an idiot,” Kyungsoo whispered after a while.

“I know,” and there was amusement in Jongin’s tone. “Were you worried about me?”

“Of course not.” Kyungsoo held him tighter, and Jongin’s hand began rubbing slow circles up and down Kyungsoo’s back.

“I don’t know if it’s safe, but I had to come home,” Jongin told him. “I’m such a mess right now; I barely made it to your apartment…”

Kyungsoo pulled away from him slowly, and as he did so, awareness set in his mind toward the fact that he had been hugging Jongin. His face began heating up, but he just told himself off and focused on Jongin, not his own shame. That could wait until later.

He opened his mouth to ask Jongin what he needed – food, a shower, sleep, anything – but his words died in his throat as he really looked at the younger for the first time. Jongin was a mess, sure – probably a lot worse than Kyungsoo had seen him, and it likely wouldn’t be any better with the lights on – but that wasn’t what stunned Kyungsoo into silence.

“Your hair,” he uttered. Jongin’s defining blond hair had been chopped off, and in its place was shorter, natural black hair. His bleached dead ends were gone, and it was still a disheveled mess but it looked far healthier – and more normal – than it had been. Jongin ducked his head under Kyungsoo’s stare, and Kyungsoo swallowed thickly.

“I had to change it,” Jongin mumbled. “Gave me away too much, you know?”

Kyungsoo nodded slowly, still recovering from the shock. He couldn’t keep ogling like this. He searched his mind for something to say, and found a flurry of questions to choose from. “How are you feeling? Hungry?”

Jongin gave a half-hearted shrug, looking troubled. “I’m hardly holding myself up. I’m starving and exhausted and I haven’t had anything in days, I’m starting to succumb to my insanity… It feels like I’ll throw up any minute, honestly, but I have nothing in me to come out…”

Resisting the desire to comfort Jongin somehow – petting his hair or taking his hand or something like that – Kyungsoo asked, “Do you want me to make you something?” Jongin needed to have food in his stomach before Kyungsoo could give him any meds to help him feel better.

Surprisingly, Jongin let out a laugh. “Do you have all the to cook me some heroin?” Oh. Kyungsoo hadn’t realized what he’d meant by not having anything in days; he thought Jongin had been talking about food. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo didn’t have the slightest idea how to “cook” heroin. He shook his head, ears growing warm.

“Oh!” He glanced over to the corner of his room, remembering Jongin’s bag sitting there. “I can get you something, if you want.”

“What, just go down to the dealer on the corner?” Jongin asked mockingly, not having spotted the bag himself. As Kyungsoo slid off his bed and made his way over to Jongin’s backpack, Jongin added, “Hyung, there aren’t actually any dealers in this neighbourhood, trust me.”

As if Kyungsoo didn’t know that. He didn’t live in the ghetto. “No, but I have this.” He reached the backpack and held it up for Jongin to see, and then carried it back to the bed. “I’m sure you have things in here, don’t you?”

Jongin gaped. “I thought I’d left that at work!” he exclaimed. “Holy crap, you actually have this. You are a life saver.” He looked so much livelier as he took the bag out of Kyungsoo’s hands and ped it, sighing in relief at the contents inside. Clothing was tossed out onto Kyungsoo’s bed carelessly, uncovering what he really wanted. His hands rummaged through and then he pulled out a syringe full of a questionable looking substance. “, it’s all separated.” He shook it quickly and then looked it over again, shaking his head, holding it out to Kyungsoo. “Would you go run this under hot water for a few minutes?”

Kyungsoo cautiously held out his hand for the needle, the feeling of the cold plastic against his skin making him nervous. Then he examined it himself. “Are you sure this is safe?” he wondered, eyeing the floating particles. This had been in Jongin’s bag for days; at least four, maybe even longer. How long heroin’s expiry date was, Kyungsoo didn’t know.

“If you heat it up, it’ll be fine,” Jongin assured him, and Kyungsoo had to trust him, because Jongin was the drug user here, and he knew about these things far better than Kyungsoo did. Kyungsoo moved to get up again, but Jongin’s fingers brushed against his wrist, looping around the narrow part of his arm and stopping him. “Oh wait, Kyungsoo – you said no drugs in your place-”

“I’ll make an exception for tonight,” Kyungsoo whispered, staring into the other’s eyes. Jongin’s pupils were blown wide and he was unusually pale, and Kyungsoo wasn’t denying him anything right now. “You just sit here and I’ll get this for you-” He held up the syringe. “-and then I’ll make you something to eat, too, okay? And you can shower in the morning if you want.”

“Do you mind if I eat in here?” Jongin asked. “I don’t know if I can make it out to the kitchen.”

“Of course,” Kyungsoo replied softly. “I’ll bring it in to you.” His voice was so gentle; he hadn’t spoken to anyone this way since he was a child, when he would talk to his mother, who was the sun and stars of his world, and he had adored more than anything. (He still loved her so much, but it had been a long time since he showed it like he used to. It was bad for both of them, Kyungsoo treating her that way. It made them both vulnerable.) “Lie down, Jongin.”

At last Kyungsoo stood, and Jongin let go of him, but he remained sitting. Kyungsoo stood still for a moment, frowning at Jongin and wanting him to lie back, but Jongin’s brow was furrowed and he was chewing on his lip uncertainly. At last he spoke very quietly.

“Kyungsoo.” The word was nearly inaudible. “Maybe – would it be okay if I went and smoked on your balcony while I’m waiting?” His eyes were begging, and it tugged at Kyungsoo’s heart.

But if Jongin couldn’t get out to the kitchen, how did he plan on going to the balcony?

“No, no,” Kyungsoo told him. Jongin deflated slightly. “Just stay here; I’ll open a window for you.” At Kyungsoo’s words, Jongin’s eyes shot up, staring widely at him. “You shouldn’t get up.” And, as he had said, he crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains, placing the syringe on the ledge for a second so he could push the window up. Cold air breezed in, and Kyungsoo grabbed the needle again. “There. I’m going now,” he added before Jongin could ask for anything else. He hurried across the room, switching on the lamp at his desk before going out to the bathroom.

He ran the hot water tap for a minute, and then tested the water quickly with his finger. The water was nearly scalding, and he pushed the syringe under the stream, rotating it slowly so all sides would receive equal heat. Looking up at himself in the mirror, his reflection revealed a mess. He looked like a college student the night before exams – like he hadn’t slept in days but was buzzed on several cups of coffee. His eyes were bugged out and he was jittering, and a million emotions were pumping through his veins. A thrill of nervous excitement, mixed with bittersweet joy and maybe a hint of guilt.

Two minutes under the tap, Kyungsoo pulled out the syringe and shut off the water. He tested the temperature of the syringe, and gave it a tentative shake before wiping it dry on a towel.

Back out in the hallway, he caught scent of something overpoweringly sweet but equally sour. It was a familiar smell, but he had never experienced it so strongly. He had left his door nearly closed, but it still seeped through eagerly. Hesitantly, he swung his bedroom door open and was bombarded with the powerful smell, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. Still, he ended up choking.

“I’m sorry.” Jongin was lying on the bed, a joint in one hand and a tissue in the other which he was flicking ashes into. At the sound of Kyungsoo’s coughs, he glanced up apologetically and butted the joint, wrapping it in the tissue and handing it to Kyungsoo, who tossed it in the garbage can.

“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo lied, trying to breathe normally and not make the other feel guilty. He held out the syringe to Jongin, who took it and shook it once more.

“Thank you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for making you do all this.” Without another word, he held out his arm and hovered the needle over his skin, trying to line it up with a vein. His hands trembled, though, and he swallowed hard and remained determined, but couldn’t calm his hands enough. Kyungsoo couldn’t watch for very long before he took the syringe in his own hand and gripped Jongin’s arm with the other, eyeing a vein and pressing the tip of the needle deep into the other’s skin. The plunger sunk under his thumb, and then he pulled the needle out, feeling nauseated. He replaced the syringe in Jongin’s bag, and then moved it off the bed, sitting at the foot, before returning his attention to Jongin.

“Is that alright now?” he asked quietly. Jongin nodded, eyes closing for a moment before he opened them again and met Kyungsoo’s.

“Thank you,” he repeated breathily. “I know you hate this…” Kyungsoo tried to shrug indifferently, and started to move once again. But before he could even finish telling Jongin that he was going to go get him something to eat, Jongin grabbed hold of his wrist again securely. “No – don’t. Worry about that tomorrow; stay with me now…”

Kyungsoo couldn’t even object. He allowed himself to be pulled down, ignoring the lamp that was still glowing, and then adjusted the blankets so they covered him and Jongin, protecting them from the chilly October air intruding through the window. He took Dareun and unraveled the shirt from him, tossing it away and cuddling close to the toy for a moment before offering it to Jongin. But Jongin shook his head, instead pulling Kyungsoo closer to him until Kyungsoo was pressed against his side. Again, Kyungsoo didn’t deny him, letting himself be snuggled up beside Jongin and closing his eyes, inhaling deeply.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.