[M // warnings: implied drug use]

Tension was thick in the room as Hongbin switched views between his best friend and his best friend's . . . boyfriend-thing. He thought that Taekwoon looked akin to a kicked puppy and nearly snorted to himself.

Wonsik's face was evident with pain, fists clenching and loosening as he tried to figure out if he wanted to scream or run away—

The latter of which Taekwoon felt like doing . . . Because didn't he always want to run away?

But much to Hongbin's annoyance, he didn't. How was it that Wonsik's nature didn't scare him off already? It was obvious he couldn't handle it, so why did he still hang around? Everyone knew Taekwoon was a coward. Just one who choked it down so he could shove a brave mask on. Hongbin wanted to kick him for it.

"I can't let you keep doing this." Taekwoon whispered, trying to find his voice. Hongbin knew he wouldn't be able to.

The oldest of the three lifted a trembling hand to wrap around Wonsik's right arm. Like he was going to be scorched by a mere touch, Wonsik snatched his entire self back a few steps. His dark, blown eyes narrowed.

"Don't touch me." he hissed, though sounding shaken. Hurt flashed across Taekwoon's sickly pale face.

The glisten of the thin sheen of sweat looked ethereal, beautiful, mystical on Wonsik's face and neck, Hongbin thought. When both of them were on their high, they made quite the pair.

Taekwoon threw him a pained expression, completely unaware to the fact that Hongbin didn't care. He didn't care about him, didn't think highly of him, didn't value him, didn't like him. Taekwoon was worthless to him.

Because how could Taekwoon ever, ever possibly understand?

He had a family. Parents to love him. Siblings who doted on him. The brains, the grades, the body—the everything. How could he understand?

Wonsik didn't want any of Taekwoon's life—the money, the comfort—and Hongbin knew that. One couldn't spend their life with another who didn't understand, who couldn't relate.

Hongbin though; Hongbin understood.

Near their standoff was a small, round table with a needle kit resting on it. The black leather was dressed up in silly doodles and funny words; it almost looked harmless. Almost.

Taekwoon wanted to destroy it. He bit his lip.

"Wonsik, please," he tried again, putting a cautious foot forward. All he wanted to do was help. His boyfriend was ed up ("That's an understatement.") and he wanted to help him. Things didn't need to stay this way—couldn't stay this way—and Taekwoon knew that, whatever illusions they had of this being any kind of good for them, they all knew that.

Time suspended, and on Wonsik's face: need, pain, regret, sorrow, fear. A myriad of dejected emotions darted through Wonsik's eyes, and when time resumed, he took a step back. Taekwoon swore his heart cracked in his chest, loud enough for the whole world to hear it.

Wonsik reached for the black pouch and then fled from the room.

In desperation, Taekwoon reached out after him, only to be stopped by Hongbin's condescending snort.

"I'll take care of it."

Taekwoon couldn't help finding the smile that curled Hongbin's lips, sickly sweet and toothy, beautiful. His shoulders dropped.

And then . . . Hongbin left him alone. Disappeared into the room Wonsik escaped to with a strangely final close of the door. Agony swelled in Taekwoon's crumbling heart and his fingers curled into the thin white fabric like it would hold him together.

Neither of them came out for the rest of the night. Taekwoon couldn't take it anymore, and he had to leave before the hazed, wanton moans echoed hauntingly throughout the apartment.

okay, i gotta admit: i cheated for this one. the original was something i wrote a while back when i was still a relatively new starlight. i remembered it and felt it fit perfectly, but of course i had to make a few modifications because my writing style and standards have changed since then . . . also, i think i couldn't ever write something like this again. it's a lot.