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Donghyuck is dozing off, lulled to sleep by the sunlight streaming through the window as Jaemin eyes his rubbery burger across the table, when Jeno storms up and slams his palms on the particle board with a slap that sends Donghyuck reeling.
“What the fuck, Jen?” he grumbles as Jaemin abandons all hope of finding something edible in his cafeteria lunch, picking at a soggy tater tot with his fork.
Jeno, for his part, just plops into the seat next to Donghyuck as Jaemin shoves his tray aside. “I got it,” he says inexplicably, and his two best friends stare at him for a solid thirty seconds before Jaemin speaks up.
“Got what?” he all but yells, ever delicate.
Jeno is unfazed by Jaemin’s obvious impatience, though he really should be more worried about the fact Donghyuck is two seconds away from pummeling him for blocking the sun beam that was warming his face only minutes ago. He’s seriously considering bodily forcing Jeno out of his chair, but he settles for saying, “Hurry up so I can go back to sleep, dumbass.”
Jeno rolls his eyes; Donghyuck doesn’t see it, because his eyes are still closed and his head is resting face down on his forearms where they’re crossed on the tabletop, but he can feel it. Jeno digs around in his backpack for an indeterminate amount of time―long enough for Jaemin to start swinging his leg out of boredom, kicking Donghyuck under the table. Then the rummaging stops and Jeno is elbowing Donghyuck in the ribs as Jaemin lets out an impressed whistle.
“Shit, I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he says as Donghyuck picks his head up to see what all the fuss is about. When he does, his jaw nearly drops.
In Jeno’s hand is a brand new, very official looking, very illegal fake ID. Donghyuck has never been so proud in his life, and he tells Jeno so. “Goddamn. I can’t believe I’m best friends with a delinquent.” He wipes invisible tears from under his eyes, swooning.
Jeno gives him a flat look. “I’m not a delinquent.”
“Not if you don’t get caught,” Jaemin points out rather unhelpfully. Thankfully, he has the sense to divert Jeno’s attention elsewhere before he can think about panicking. “Lemme see it!”
Jeno slides the card across the table so Jaemin can look at it more closely, but something catches Donghyuck’s eye. “Wait, why’s it from Hawaii?”
“So it’s harder to tell it’s fake,” Jeno says like it should be obvious. That’s how he says pretty much everything to Donghyuck.
“What the fuck is this name, dude?” Jaemin cuts in, squinting at the plastic in his hand. Donghyuck reaches out and snatches it from him, eyes darting to the bottom corner. It reads McLovin in bold black letters, ink ever so slightly smudged from the printing process. Donghyuck wants to smack Jeno with the card, bend it back and let it slap Jeno’s cheek like his brother used to do when they were kids, but he restrains himself in favour of addressing the most pressing issue at hand.
“McLovin? The hell is that?” he squawks, affronted.
“It’s a really common name,” Jeno says matter of factly. “It was between that and Mohammed, so―”
Donghyuck just looks at Jeno like he’s certifiable, which at this point Donghyuck is beginning to think he is. “Why the fuck would it be between that and Mohammed?” he blurts before Jeno can explain his thought process any further.
Jeno rolls his eyes again, which he also does a lot around Donghyuck. “Mohammed is the most commonly used name on Earth. Maybe if you didn’t sleep through every class you’d know that, dickhead.”
“Forget that,” Jaemin interjects, brow furrowed. “Why the shit does it only have one name?” He looks up at Jeno, exasperated. “What are you, Seal?”
“Lots of people have only one name,” Jeno counters less than convincingly.
“Yeah, famous people,” Donghyuck contends. “Like Beyonce, or Tupac. McLovin just sounds like an Irish R&B singer who gives his mixtapes out for free.”
Jaemin nods in agreement as Donghyuck tosses the license back to Jeno. “It’s not a good look, dude.”
Jeno doesn’t turn his nose up at them as he slides the card into his wallet, but Donghyuck can tell he wants to. “I’m sorry,” he says haughtily, “but who has the fake ID here?”
“You do,” is Jaemin’s reluctant reply. He shoots Donghyuck an uncertain glance, but Donghyuck doesn’t like where this is going either.
“And who will have to go back to bribing his brother for booze if he keeps making fun of me?” Jeno prompts with a very targeted look at Donghyuck.
And, well, he has a point. Donghyuck owes Johnny enough favours as it is, and he’s already dreading the day his brother finally comes up with something devious enough to cash in on. “Me,” he says forlornly, letting his head fall back onto the table. “You’re a douche, Jen,” he mumbles, cheek squished against the sticky surface of the tabletop.
“A douche with a fake ID,” Jeno reminds them smugly, as if they’ve forgotten. “So be nice or you’re stuck with sobriety for the next four years.”
Donghyuck and Jaemin groan in unison, and Jeno knows he’s won.
“Dude!” Donghyuck whoops the millisecond he sees Jeno from the other end of the hallway, barreling through the crowd of students making their way to last period so he can tackle his best friend with all the delicacy of a linebacker. “I needa talk to you.”
Jeno pushes Donghyuck off from where he’s still hanging on Jeno’s body and hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder. “What, Hyuck?” He sounds resigned, like he’s accepted his fate before Donghyuck can even sentence him to it.
“So, y’know Lucas Wong?” Donghyuck starts, and Jeno nods because it’s a stupid question. Everyone knows Lucas Wong. He’s like, high school royalty or whatever. He’s hot and smart and funny and―“He’s throwing a party.”
Jeno rolls his eyes. “And? He throws a party like, every week. What does that have to do with us?”
Normally, Donghyuck wouldn’t fault Jeno for being so short with him because they have, in fact, never been invited to one of Lucas’ parties. They aren’t total losers, but they definitely don’t run with the likes of Lucas Wong and his legion of loveable jocks. They live in different worlds. Or they did, anyway. “Let me finish, ass-face,” Donghyuck tells Jeno as they shuffle to biology. They’re definitely going to be late, but Donghyuck couldn’t care less. He has more important matters to attend to. “He invited us!”
Jeno just stares at him like he’s waiting for something. “What’s the catch?”
Donghyuck juts out his bottom lip, exaggerating his pouting because he knows Jeno is a sucker for it. “No catch.” He fishes a crisp $100 bill out of his pocket, brandishing it in front of Jeno’s face. “He provides the cash, we provide the booze and we’re in.”
Jeno smacks Donghyuck’s hand, hissing at him to stop waving it around so conspicuously. “You mean I provide the booze,” he clarifies.
“Yeah, same difference,” Donghyuck says with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “You’ll do it.” It’s not a question, even though it probably should be. Donghyuck’s never been great at asking for things.
“I dunno,” Jeno says, biting his lip. Donghyuck is already fishing a crumpled scrap of paper out of his other pocket.
“What’s the point of getting a fake ID if you won’t use it? Grow some balls, man.” He sets the paper in front of Jeno just as their teacher calls their attention to the front of the room―or tries to, anyway. “Lucas wrote down what he wants. We can go after school.”
The teacher throws a disapproving glare in their direction as Jeno fumbles with the paper, fidgeting with a corner. “Fine.” He doesn’t sound all that sold on the idea, but that’s never stopped Donghyuck before.
“Headass, it has to be you. It’s your dumb fucking face on the ID.” They’re standing outside the liquor store, and to say Jeno is having second thoughts would be an understatement. His hands are shaking, Donghyuck can see that from two feet away. “We can’t do it for you.”
Jeno’s back to worrying his lip between his teeth. “I know, but―like, what if I get caught?”
“You’re eighteen. You’ll definitely go to prison,” Jaemin deadpans.
Jeno may or may not have an aneurysm right there in the crudely lit parking lot. “Prison?” His voice cracks around the second syllable and Donghyuck punches Jaemin in the stomach, hard. Hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
“Calm your tits, Jen, they don’t send people to prison for this shit. You’ll just get a fine.” Donghyuck means for it to be reassuring but he’s pretty sure he misses that mark by a long shot, if Jeno’s hyperventilation is anything to go by.
“My dad is gonna kill me. Like, actually murder me. You guys are gonna find me in a ditch somewhere and―”
“And we’ll both write you a kickass eulogy,” Donghyuck offers with a supportive clap to Jeno’s shoulder. Jaemin shoots them an overeager thumbs up out of solidarity.
“C’mon, Jen,” he cuts in before Jeno can react to that. “We’re your best friends and we have one last chance at a high school party that isn’t total shit. Don’t take this from us.” It’s a little under-handed, but well, Jaemin is not above a little coercion. “Plus, Mark―yes, the Mark Lee―asked me to bring him some Goldslick when he found out about the booze, and if you pussy out and I have to tell him that I couldn’t get it, I’ll kill you myself, swear to god.” He crosses his heart with an index finger to really drive the point home.
Something like horror flashes across Jeno’s face. Jaemin’s ultimatum might be their only shot at convincing Jeno to go through with their (admittedly poorly thought out) plan, so Donghyuck runs with it. He slings an arm across Jeno’s shoulder and offers a solemn, “Would you rather be murdered by your dad or Jaemin?” He already knows what Jeno will choose―he’d choose the same thing.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” he huffs, breaking away from Donghyuck’s casual embrace with a gulp. He sets his shoulders, turns toward the door, and hides his trembling fingers in the pockets of his jeans. “I hate you both, just so you know.”
“Piss off,” Donghyuck says as Jaemin smacks Jeno’s ass with an unnecessarily loud, “Atta boy!” for moral support. Jeno doesn’t dignify any of that with a response, just stomps off toward the neon beacon of adolescent miscreancy illuminated in the window of the liquor store proudly advertising the fact that they ID every customer. It would feel like a coming of age if this was a movie; there’s probably some symbolism in there somewhere, but Donghyuck wouldn’t know because he’s been sleeping through English class for the better part of two years.
Once Jeno is inside, all that’s left to do is wait. They do try to keep tabs on him, but then Jeno weaves through the aisles and their line of sight is obstructed by a tall display of some fancy wine that no one under 40 would ever buy and they quickly give up. Donghyuck rounds the corner of the building, Jaemin in tow, so they look less suspicious and sits down on the curb. Jaemin follows suit, and they compete to see who can kick pebbles farther across the asphalt for the longest ten minutes of Donghyuck’s life. It’s excruciating.
And for all their bravado, Donghyuck and Jaemin are scared, too. Donghyuck can tell that Jaemin’s starting to worry, popping his knuckles every five seconds, a nervous habit since they were kids. “Should we check on him?” Donghyuck suggests. Jaemin shrugs, but his shoulders are tight, and Donghyuck knows he looks just as on edge. He stands, brushing the dirt off his pants and dragging Jaemin to his feet with him.
When they make it back to the front of the store, their worst nightmare is playing out in real time right before their eyes. Donghyuck’s stomach drops to his feet as Jaemin breathes out a string of curses, smacking Donghyuck’s arm like he can’t also see what’s happening.
They can’t hear anything, or even read Jeno’s lips really, but what he’s saying isn’t all that consequential―it’s more about who he’s saying it to. “The fuck are the cops doing here?” Donghyuck hisses, voice pitching higher with alarm.
“I don’t know!” Jaemin whispers back, peering over Donghyuck’s shoulder. He cracks his pinky finger and Donghyuck winces at the noise.
“We gotta get him outta there,” he decides, turning to face Jaemin head on. There’s only one problem with that plan: namely, that neither Donghyhuck nor Jaemin have the slightest idea how to go about doing that.
“Balls to that,” Jaemin protests. His eyes are widening in a way that would be comical under less tense circumstances, so Donghyuck whips his head around to see what Jaemin is looking at.
Donghyuck reacts much the same way when he witnesses what’s caught Jaemin’s attention; he can feel his mouth go slack at the sight of two police officers leading Jeno to the door. Jaemin gives Donghyuck’s arm an urgent tug, effectively snapping him out of it in time to flee the scene. They go back to the side of the building, peeping around the corner just as the back door of the police cruiser is slamming shut behind Jeno. “Oh fuck, this is bad,” Jaemin wheezes.
“No shit, dipstick,” Donghyuck mutters. “This is so bad. Super bad.” He flails helplessly, unsure what to do. He isn’t used to the feeling and he hates everything about this situation.
“Oh my god, what are we gonna tell his parents?” Jaemin asks, horrified. “Oh damn, what if he tells them we put him up to this?”
“Forget his parents,” Donghyuck groans. There are more important matters at hand. “What are we gonna tell Lucas?”
“Oh fuck,” Jaemin repeats. “And Mark,” he laments as he runs a hand down his face.
The cop car pulls out of the parking lot, sirens blaring, and they just stand there until it disappears over the horizon. Their breathing evens out gradually, somber atmosphere giving way to something more like acceptance. Donghyuck is pretty sure they’ve gone through the seven stages of grief in a matter of minutes, which is a pretty impressive feat, in his opinion. Like some sort of twisted emotional speedrun, or something.
Donghyuck is the first one to speak once the adrenaline has worked its way out of their veins and they've come to terms with the fact that saving their best friend is a lost cause. “So,” he says as he checks the time on his phone. “We have an hour till the party. Wanna steal some booze from Johnny?”
Jaemin eyes him, lips pursed. “Does your brother keep Goldslick in his stash?”
Donghyuck shakes his head sadly. “Nah, he’s more into shitty beer and Fireball. Sorry, man.” He really does mean it. Jaemin’s been trying to suck Mark Lee’s dick since freshman year―and he was so close, it’s so tragic, honestly.
Jaemin just nods dejectedly. “It’s whatever. Fuck it, let’s do it.”
Johnny will definitely murder Donghyuck when he realizes what they’ve done, but it’s fine. It’s only a matter of time until Jeno’s dad kills him for getting arrested and the mortification of disappointing Mark Lee will send Jaemin into cardiac arrest within seconds, so at least they’ll die together.