Work Text:
I'm nuts, baby, I'm mad,
The craziest friend that you've ever had
You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone
Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong
Over the bend, entirely bonkers
You like me best when I'm off my rocker
Tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed
So what if I'm crazy? The best people are
♥️
Youngjae had a reputation for being out there. Never focused, always had crazy ideas. He was the type of person your mom would hate for you to be around. It was unfortunate and fortunate that Choi Junhong met him, and disobeyed the rule of don't talk to strangers.
When Choi Junhong, tall, lean, and blonde boy bumped into Yoo Youngjae, average, beanie wearer, smoker, alcoholic and drug addict, his life was turned around. And his heart as well.
He'd been on his way to the skate park, avoiding skating down the sidewalk due to protruding rocks and wide cracks, and it just so happened Youngjae had his nose stuck in his phone. Also, being about a head shorter than a kid that was too busy listening to the loud bass of the music pouring into his ears from his headphones was a complete disadvantage. It was like when your parents explained the birds and the bees, saying "when a man and a woman love each other very much", except in this case it would be, "when a high schooler and a college student both didn't pay attention to their surroundings". One led to a baby that happened to grow up into that handsome blonde kid and the other led to that blonde kid having a guy two years older than him standing pressed against his chest, not moving because an air of shame hung around him.
"Uhm... Sorry?" Junhong said it as an apology, but it came to be more of a question. A subliminal message asking the other if he was planning to move at some point or if he'd made himself comfortable in his spot. Which in fact, Youngjae had. It was warm, to say in the least. And the taller smelled nice... like strawberries. But that made his situation worse. Why? Because he had a huge pit in his stomach and like the shameless man he was, he looked up as if ready to cry and slowly let out:
"Feed. Me. Please."
Junhong panicked. On one hand he was bewildered. Some stranger that looked younger than him looked up and requested for him to give him food. What was Junhong supposed to do? The person didn't look very homeless and was quite uncanny. Mom told me not to talk to strangers. But he was 18 and hey, the guy didn't look too threatening. And how would living by that rule get you any friends?
So he grabbed Youngjae's wrist and pulled him roughly, running back the way he came to find the small ramen stand nearby. He let go only to look for money crumpled up in his pocket that he'd received from his mother. Youngjae was surprised, if nothing else. To know someone would actually help him buy food was refreshing, quite a change from all the people who couldn't accept his crazy and wild requests - choosing instead to call him mental. Those assholes. The loss of his parents and their constant tormenting to add to it was what drove him to a life of drugs, alocohol, and cigarettes. Add in the pressure of staying in college ( which he was dangerously close to failing at ), and it was only natural, right?
Youngjae nodded at Junhong in appreciation when he was given a large bowl of ramen and sat down on one of the stools in front of the stand. He ate like his life depended on it and nearly choked a couple of times. He couldn't help it, he was so hungry. Youngjae could eat anything in sight if he had to be honest. Junhong could only stare with curious eyes as Youngjae finished the last lick of broth in the bowl and proceeded to look at Junhong, his eyes pleading for more.
"I'm sorry, I don't have money for more..." He was going to end it there, but wanted to fulfill his curiosity. "Why do you eat like you've never eaten before?" Youngjae looked at the blonde like he was crazy.
"You don't even know my name." Shots fired. Junhong stuttered and spat out unintelligible words as his face reddened. He was caught off guard and didn't want to be rude to a potential friend, yet he had offended him so. Youngjae giggled and the blonde stopped for a moment, wondering if that really came from the other. "Calm down, I'm just joking. My name's Youngjae, though."
"Oh." A pause. "Well, my name's Junhong. So..." He didn't want to seem pushy, but it was the only way to guarantee a response from the other. Otherwise, the whole flustered moment and awkward introduction wouldn't be worth it. "Answer my question?"
"I had a case of the munchies." The response was blunt, casual. "I do drugs." He ended it with that, offering the bit of information as a satisfactory explanation should Junhong be too innocent to understand what a case of the munchies could be an effect of. The high schooler's response... well it was, okay, for someone his age. Wide eyes, mouth slightly agape - he was shocked.
"D-d-drugs? Isn't that illegal? Are you sure you should be telling me this?" Youngjae shrugged in reply. Junhong took a moment to recollect himself, the air now more tense than ever. "Why?" A mad smile spread on the older's lips.
"Why don't you get to know me first?"
--
Junhong walked in the rain with a black hoodie as his sole protection from being drenched in rainwater. The air was crisp, gray clouds covered the sun, and the grass looked half dead, despite the water's desperate attempt to revive it. He stepped in a puddle especially hard, a smile forming as the edges of his pants became wet. The boy looked up from the ground, only to spot a figure sitting in front of a worn down house. He recognized the face. It was Youngjae.
What was he doing there?
"...pid fucking shitty ass fire alarms fucking being a bitch and dumbass rain motherfucking- ugh!" Junhong could hear the string of curses spilling from the mouth of the college student when he came near. A brow raised and he stopped in front of them, questioning whether to announce his presence to the older or not. "What?" Youngjae didn't look up.
"It's me." At this, Youngjae did look up. With bloodshot eyes and a moist cigarette in between plump lips. His hair was stuck to his face along with his thin shirt. Junhong knit his brows together when he realized Youngjae also smoked. He reached down and grabbed the cigarette from the man's lips, not bothering to pay attention to him flailing and stumbling as he tried to grab it back. The blonde threw the item away. "That's not good for you. Come on, you're gonna get a cold, you should go home."
Youngjae shrugged. "It's calms my brain, honestly. And I don't have a home."
"You don't have a home? What?" Junhong tilted his head. He got the other's phone number after their first meeting, how was it possible he had a phone but not a home?
"Well, I have an apartment. But... I don't call it home."
"You idiot. That's home, it provides you with shelter." Junhong ignored the other's comment about how it also provided a hiding place for weed. "Let's get you dry." Youngjae decided not to struggle and instead stood up, allowing the other to drag him by the hand to wherever he was leading him to. He could only hope it wasn't in the rain. And his hopes were not let down. He was brought to the front of a nice house. With a brick walkway and a big porch, the white walls giving it a homey feel. Youngjae almost felt relaxed, but he felt more overwhelmed than anything as such.
"Is this your house?" Junhong could only nod as he pulled out keys from his back pocket. Youngjae said nothing else and settled for staring at the other's broad shoulders and strong back, which was clear when his shirt stuck to him because of the rain - also because he gave Youngjae his hoodie. The college student smiled to himself.
"Are you just gonna stand there? Come on." Only did that voice break the older away from his thoughts. He followed it. Looking around he took off his shoes like it was routine and entered cautiously. He noticed that the boy was nowhere to be found and instantly freaked out. That was, until he spotted him with a much shorter woman. Most likely his mom. Youngjae did the most respectful thing and walked in to introduce himself.
"Hello, Mrs... " If he remembered correctly, Junhong never told him his last name. Then again, it wasn't like Youngjae's memory was remarkable to begin with. He heard a 'Choi' come from the boy to his right and instantly repeated it to complete his sentence. "I'm Junhong's friend. Nice to meet you." At least his manners were still intact. That was good. Junhong's mother nodded and smiled. She told them he could stay as long as the rain continued, and even for dinner if he liked. With that the two went upstairs to Junhong's room, where Youngjae stood awkwardly as Junhong undressed in front of him.
Whether to look away or not was an internal struggle. On one hand it would be weird to stare, but on the other they were both males and it shouldn't matter. Right? Junhong didn't seem to be affected, seeing as he continued to change into a dry set of clothes before looking for an older pair, smaller. He tossed the soft pajama pants and loose sweater-shirt in Youngjae's direction. "Thanks." He stated slowly before rushing out and into the bathroom. Awkward. Upon coming back he found Junhong on his bed, sitting cross-legged and hunched over on his phone. "Don't do that, you'll hurt your back." Differing from the air around the two just moments prior, a comfortable silence was held after Junhong let out a small hum as a response to Youngjae's statement. Said college student came near and laid down in front of the boy, examining him as he seemed entertained by the person who kept texting him back. Milky white skin, soft blonde hair, broad shoulders, soft chest, smelled like strawberries- oh, he's looking back at Youngjae.
"Can't you do anything better than stare?" He joked, leaving Youngjae to react in his own way. Unlike Junhong's usual reactions, he just shrugged. It became a trademark movement for him. Like a silent catchphrase; somewhat. "You said to get to know you, right?" Junhong continued as he turned off his phone and laid next to the other man, staring at the ceiling of his room. He'd stared at it so many times like so before, it felt natural. As if he memorized the pattern of every bump and crack that the paint failed to conceal. He could paint out in vivid detail every spot that was darker than the other and where dust normally fell from. It was imprinted in his mind like the words on a gravestone. Youngjae nodded in reply to the other, and he barely caught it in his peripheral vision. "Then tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know?" Youngjae had to be careful. He didn't want to drive away another person. he didn't want somebody else to think he was insane or crazy or somebody who had to go to rehab. He wasn't crazy. He was normal. The world just pushed him to a corner and that wasn't his choice to make. "I'm a complicated person."
"I can tell." Of course the boy could. The way Youngjae spoke with shrugs and nods, he was mysterious in his own way. Short, cut off sentences and the only way he really got angry, Junhong realized, was if he didn't have a smoke or drugs. If the cursing in front of that house was anything to go by. "You were angry before because you couldn't smoke. I heard you... Why aren't you angry anymore?" Red flags shot up in Youngjae's head and spread like wildfire. What was the other trying to do by asking such a question?
"I guess you calm me down." It was a good explanation. Somewhat. He really just decided that chewing tobacco in the bathroom was a nice touch. And obviously a breath mint afterwards because only God knew how bad that smelled.
Junhong's cheeks were tinted red. That wasn't an answer he had expected. "Uhm... How old are you? And where do you go to school?"
"21 and nowhere, if I continue at the rate I'm going." Junhong winced at the cold and bitter tone.
"You're not exactly happy with your life, are you?"
"Can you tell?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, an anger bubbling up inside him. He knew it wasn't the high schooler's intention to ask all the wrong questions. He knew that the boy was less than pleased to know he was pushing all the wrong buttons. He felt bad. Youngjae flipped himself over, burying his face in a pillow and being so casual one would guess he'd known Junhong for years. "I was never happy." His voice was muffled, but Junhong heard perfectly.
--
It was the anniversary of his parents' deaths. Youngjae didn't answer any texts. Not even the kind ones with cute little emojis that he'd received from Junhong. He sat, empty beer bottles laying on the ground before him, an ashtray with a box's worth of cigarettes that were burned out, and an empty syringe that used to contain heroine. It was unhealthy, he knew. He'd been to the doctor recently and was shown progress that was nearing Cancer. He didn't care.
Sobs rang throughout the empty apartment. He felt as if he had no one.
He wouldn't even tell Junhong.
--
"You look like shit." Youngjae looked at his now 6 month friend. The boy was writing in his notebook as they sat at the table of a coffee shop. "And smell like cigarettes. You should really stop smoking." The only other person that had told him to stop smoking was his doctor. Seeing as the doctor had no significance in his personal life, Youngjae didn't listen. Junhong... he made him feel warm and at ease... like a human drug. So he felt guilty as he heard the words come from the younger's mouth.
"Gee, thanks." Youngjae replied dryly. "I want to quit my job. But I can't. Or I'll lose my... necessities-"
"You don't need them."
"Shut the fuck up. And my home." He continued after scolding the blonde.
"I'm just saying, you don't need the drugs. You should quit." The way he said it so normally, as if it was a simple task. A tiny step in his stairway of life. There went the warm feeling Junhong provided.
"Shut up. Shut up... it's not so easy. I know- I know I should. But... I just..."
"Why?"
The older sighed. "I thought it was the best solution. It still is, I don't see any other way I could have fixed what I was going through. It keeps me from getting... antsy." He sugarcoated the last word. He was insane when he couldn't get his 'necessities', crazy, yelled, he was in his own world. Antsy was a grand understatement if he had to be honest.
"Solution to what?"
"Stop asking!" He didn't mean to bang his fists on the table and yell. He didn't mean to attract attention and be the cause of Junhong's hurt expression. He didn't mean to. He stalked off and pulled out a cigarette.
--
Junhong's mother was in the hospital. She fell to the ground after a heart attack, being the reason behind a panicky Junhong. The boy watched as her heartbeat was faint and slow. He didn't want to be here for it. He didn't want to accept that. He hoped for the best and not the worst. And yet, he still said goodbye with tears in his eyes, and walked out of the room. She was too young to die, so he only hoped she hadn't been doing something wrong behind his back.
--
As if on a hunch the boy would come to him at some point, Youngjae stood on the sidewalk curb he knew Junhong normally passed to go home. He smoked there, not caring for the passerbys that would hold their nose, scrunch up their face, and mutter something about second-hand smoke.
He wasn't ready to see him look so defeated though.
The boy walked with a slump, tears streaming down his face as he thought of how the doctors were reluctant to explain his mother's situation to him and instead told him to go home and rest. He was hesitant, he had a right to know, but in the end gave up. He felt better off not being certain whether or not her death was definite. At the sight of Youngjae sitting there, eyeing him with a hint of worry, he fell to his knees and into the other's arms. Youngjae didn't ask questions. The college student knew pain all too well. He knew that he'd rather have someone who didn't pry into his business and instead someone who would hold him and make sure everything would be all right. Junhong was grateful for the warm arms that wrapped around his torso after they snuffed out the cigarette. He was grateful for the cautiousness and carefulness of Youngjae's fingers as the boy played with the delicate strands of his hair. He sobbed, thankful for having someone to care for him.
Youngjae only wished someone could have done the same for him.
--
It was only when Junhong let out as many tears he could that it was decided the pair should go inside. Youngjae didn't put up a fight as Junhong forced him inside. Begged him to stay.
"You're the only one I can talk to." He told him.
"Why is that?"
"Because you're the only person I know who understands pain." Youngjae's mouth went dry then. There was no response.
The two sat in the kitchen, too lazy to drag themselves up the stairs and hang out in Junhong's room. They were quiet, until a soft and hoarse voice spoke up. The whisper barely reached Youngjae's ears, but the words were clear.
"Why... were drugs your only solution? What were they the solution to?"
His heart clenched. "The pain."
"The pain of what?"
Please don't. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I do."
Junhong. "Junhong."
"Please? I can't... I can't help you if you don't tell me."
A sigh. "Why do you have to be so manipulative?" He muttered, his head rolling back as he thought of when he first turned to drugs. Or smoking. Or alcohol. "It's recent... A year ago. The anniversary was a few days ago. My parents died. They both died from some sort of cancer. They did drugs behind my back. I never noticed." He scoffed. "I guess... Like father like son? Or like mother like son? Either way, they died. Financial pressure, their death, borderline failing grades, overdue work, my job, everything. Nobody. Nobody could help me and my way of coping? I coped by smoking weed that I found hidden in my parents' mattress. It was theirs. It was a coping method. The last piece of them I had." He breathed in, mind unsteady when he spoke. A migraine started to form.
Junhong listened attentively. "Usually kids, kids have a ring their mother wore. A necklace their father treasured. A shirt, a hairpiece, a hat, anything. I had a fucking bag of weed and that -" he lifted his index finger and twirled it in the air with a lazy smile. "That became my way of dealing. Whoopty fucking doo. And I know it's bad but. As I always do." He completed his statement by shrugging. The declaration was oh-so true. "And then when weed became too expensive I tried a cigarette. When cigarettes left my mouth too dry sometimes I tried the beer. And it's been nonstop unhealthy habits. One after another."
"Usually smokers and all of those look ugly and wrinkly, you still look handsome though. Sure you look tired all the time, but I don't think you're too damaged yet. If you... If I help you quit now, it wouldn't be too late." Junhog cut in, not wanting to hear anymore even though he asked.
"I don't want to be helped."
"I don't want you to hurt."
A silence hung in the air.
"Junhong. I'm such a bad fucking influence."
"You're so fucking crazy."
"Well, all the best people are." He was definitely one of the best people in Junhong's world. The tall boy's heart skipped a beat when Youngjae smirked, erasing all previous sob-story emotions.
--
Junhong couldn't handle it. The news. She died. She had a heart disease, and only after her death did the doctor announce that she'd been coming to the hospital constantly for years. Even when Junhong was only 11. She'd been battling the disease all by herself, and left without a word. Junhong broke down in the hospital room, sobbing and throwing himself over her cold body. There was no way. He didn't believe them. What could he do now? He couldn't face the world on his own. He couldn't move on. He needed a guidance. It was too soon.
"Mom..." He choked out, his sobs dying down to soft sniffles as he calmed down after three hours of straight crying. No one could make him feel better. He didn't have a father to rub his back and tell him they'd be fine. No sibling to share the pain with. But he did have someone close. The college student came to mind. His smirking visage still imprinted in Junhong's mind. Slowly the blonde pulled out his phone, shivering body and trembling fingers attempting to send a text message. After much editing and revising, he hit send.
'Where do you live?'
Youngjae was curious as to what would bring on such a question, but knowing Junhong's circumstances, he didn't question it as he knew there would be an explanation later.
--
Rapid knocking at the door of apartment 208 alarmed Youngjae. The only person who ever visited was his landlord and his rent wasn't due in another two weeks. He was confused, but nonetheless opened the door and was more than shocked to find Junhong red-faced and crying his eyes out. Instinctively the shorter male reached up and wiped away tears from the other's eyes. Without a question he let the other in, but nearly broke the door when he slammed it as soon as he saw Junhong reach for the box of cigarettes he had out.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" He hissed, reaching to snatch the pack but Junhong had the advantage of longer arms and Youngjae could only reach so high.
"You seem so at ease when you smoke. Let me try. It worked for you."
"It hurts for me. Junhong, cigarettes aren't a game." He settled for grabbing two fistfuls of the blonde boy's shirt.
"If it hurts for you I want to hurt with you."
"I don't want to see you suffer Junhong, let me help you cope some other way." He hung his head low.
Junhong used his free hand to lift the shorter's chin. "If you're not going to try and quit then I'm not going to let you suffer alone. If I suffer with you we can try and quit together. Later. Let me, please?" Youngjae groaned.
"They aren't good for you."
"Neither you."
"But I don't matter."
"To me you do." Youngjae pressed his lips into a thin line and let go of the taller, instead choosing to lay on his rickety bed. Junhong sat down and pulled out a cigarette from the box, reaching into Youngjae's back pockets to find a lighter. He was successful and Youngjae didn't react.
"I always disassemble the fire alarms, so don't worry about that."
"That's dangerous."
"Everything is." Without a proper argument to counter that, Junhong stayed quiet and put the butt of the cigarette between his lips. After a couple of tries, he finally lit the other end and inhaled the smoke like he'd seen Youngjae do. He exhaled afterwards, pulling out the the cigarette in between two fingers. Without fail, he then began to cough uncontrollably. Youngjae couldn't help but laugh. "You're horrible. I'll teach you." The older pulled out his own cigarette from the box resting in Junhong's lap and placed it between his lips. With his index finger and middle finger making a v shape surrounding both sides of the cigarette, he leaned close to Junhong and looked him in the eye as he used the fire in Junhong's cigarette to light his own. They stared at each other for a moment.
He inhaled and exhaled for a trained amount of time, something Junhong hadn't been able to do. Like a lesson of pay attention and repeat, Junhong copied his elder's movements and tactics. It was less painful to smoke in that way. They stayed quiet, a feeling of pleasure settling between them, but discomfort mixed with Youngjae's feeling as he disliked the idea of Junhong catching his bad habits. He hoped the other boy would soon decide to quit, rather than do what Youngjae chose to: slowly kill himself.
After about an hour, both of them had smoked, and Youngjae drank a bottle of beer. Junhong was curious, but knew that smoking was the limit to how far Youngjae would be willing. He didn't want to stress him out. He probably already blamed himself for letting the boy smoke.
"Hey Youngjae, are you straight?" The question was random. Something Junhong thought of as his mind was temporarily relaxed.
"Yeah." He thought. But some weird emotions he'd been feeling around Junhong told him otherwise. Not that he cared much. Or did he? He didn't know.
"Oh. Me too." Junhong lied. He started to understand. The heartbeat skipping, the warmth Youngjae offered, the care and the comfort. Junhong's tendency to blurt out senences that were borderline 'I love you and don't want to see you hurt'. He believed it was love. And was fairly disappointed to hear the other reply so bluntly. No hesitation, no reluctance, it was discouraging to hear.
"Then let's experiment." Youngjae let the words leave his mouth before he could process what they were, but instead of getting bashful he smirked. The idea wasn't so bad if he thought about it twice. If he felt sparks, he'd know what he felt inside. Junhong, on the other hand, was a red faced mess. He was trying and failing horribly at pulling himself together to answer the older boy. Instead of waiting for a response, Youngjae moved to straddle Junhong, his arms laying on the other's shoulders as he looked into his eyes. "Come on, it'll be fun."
Junhong looked away, avoiding eye contact. Once he felt the heat in his cheeks fade away, he looked back again. This time, he lost himself in the depth of Youngjae's brown eyes. "You're crazy." He muttered as he looked down.
"What did I say before?"
"All the best people are." Junhong smiled. Youngjae nodded triumphantly, before his expression became questioning.
"So..." Junhong didn't wait to lift a hand to Youngjae's neck and leave his other to grab his waist when he pressed his lips against those beautiful pink, plump ones. At first it was awkward, but as they continued the kiss became deeper, a battle for dominance as to who would lead the kiss. Youngjae let his hands roam and grip the front of Junhong's shirt tightly. Junhong grew riskier every second of it. His hand was under Youngjae's shirt, the skin on skin contact making said college student shiver slightly. Junhong bit the other's bottom lip gently before they pulled away, lips a bright shade of crimson.
The two stared at each other for a bit, before Youngjae leaned in again and started another make out session, this time sure of how he felt. Junhong flipped the other and pinned him to the bed, kissing him roughly. They wouldn't fuck, but it seemed like they felt like doing so. It just wasn't time for that at the moment.
They just felt like kissing forever, being each other's human drugs and taking in little doses of each others' crazy.