When We Were Kings (Part 1: Tired Heart, Every End Has a Start)
Ship: HimUp
Rating: PG13
Length: 3.6K
Tired eyes, maybe you've seen too much.
Tired heart, every end has a start
If you find yourself in trouble, falling off the track
Would you come back
- (X)
The first swallow of whiskey was always the hardest. The tingle as it hit your tongue, the slow, deep burn as it slid down your throat. The aftertaste that was part nausea and part regret. But after a few moments it grew easier. He was able to tip the glass back quicker and the grimace loosened up to the point where he was almost smiling as it poured through him.
Drinking made him forget.
Regrets washed over him like tidal waves of pain and the pills just didn't work to stop it anymore. Himchan hated the way the pharmacists looked at him as he handed the slips of paper across the counter to refill his prescriptions. Hated the spark of recognition mixing in with the confusion of why he was filling such strong doses of medicine.
The doctor told him it shouldn't be used as a replacement for therapy. He was dutifully scheduled for weekly visits with a shrink that came highly recommended. He also dutifully cancelled them every single week.
With the meds not working, the drinking taking a hell of a long time to kick in, and his brain firing on all cylinders, every second that he was alive he was in rough shape and he knew it.
The envelope that had sent him into the most current downward spiral (not that he ever really needed a reason, but this one felt a little more terrifying than usual) was still sitting on the floor beside his refrigerator. The original purpose of throwing it was to get it out of his face so he could breathe and count to one hundred, something his doctor had suggested during the last visit he'd been forced to attend.
At thirteen he was hyperventilating, breath coming faster and ending in a high-pitched wheeze at the end. By forty-three he had started the long, slow deep breaths that always took him awhile to remember to do. Seventy-five was where he was able to stop.
His eyes cracked open and the cream colored paper was still there.
Youngjae was getting married. He hadn't spoken to him in four years. Not since he had come home from the police station with bleary eyes and his mother guiding him by the crook of his elbow. Youngjae had stepped out of his bedroom and eyed them warily as they passed.
"You'll come back though, right?" Youngjae's voice was calmer than Himchan was used to. "After you get better?"
He hadn't replied and by the time he finished gathering the two suitcases worth of things he cared enough to take with him, Youngjae had already retreated back inside his room, door closed solidly behind him.
And he hadn't gone back. And not just because he never did get better.
Himchan hadn't thought his old bandmate even cared enough to know where he was living now. Junhong must have given Youngjae his address because he was the only member that still bothered to keep in touch.
If Youngjae had lowered himself enough to invite him that probably meant the rest of the band was going to attend, too. Another wave of panic hit him and it took to the count of ninety-six to push the nausea down. Four years of distancing himself and doing everything possible to make the world forget Kim Himchan of B.A.P had ever existed and it all comes crashing down with one single sheet of paper.
---
There weren't always bad memories from being in the band. Himchan had enjoyed it at first. The endless partying, the groupies clamoring for his attention, the free stuff sent to their dorm every week.
And there was Jongup.
Moon Jongup was probably the best thing about the band for him. By the end of it all he had become the worst and the look in his eyes as Himchan was hauled away in handcuffs still haunted his nights.
Things started changing around the fifth year they were all together. It wasn't a drastic shift, and to be honest Himchan couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment everything turned to shit, but if he were a betting man (and that was one vice he thankfully hadn't ever picked up) he would say it was probably about the time he injured his arm. The pain was excruciating and every breath he took made his skin throb and pulse.
The doctor gave him a shot of pain killer as soon as he arrived at the emergency room. The medicine took everything away. His breaths evened out and for about an hour he completely forgot about what had happened to him. The feel of Yongguk next to him, hand on his back, was all he could remember about that night.
The need for more of that feeling didn't happen right away. He didn't even take another pain pill for two more days because he knew addiction was a slippery slope and Himchan knew he became obsessed with the wrong things way too easily already. But at two in the morning, with his stitches pulled so tight that he imagined they were ripping away his skin, he didn't have any other choice.
"Just take one," Yongguk held the bottle out, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "The doctor gave them to you so you wouldn't be in pain. Just fucking take it."
He shook his head and gripped the sheet underneath him. His teeth were clenched so tightly together that he was afraid opening his mouth to speak would end with a strangled scream.
"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" The annoyance in Yongguk's voice was growing with every whimper Himchan made. He let out a huff and stormed out of their shared bedroom towards the kitchen. There was the sound of a glass under the faucet.
Murmurs outside his door helped to pull Himchan away from the pain for a few moments. He knew that soft voice and he was curious what the two boys were saying about him.
"What's wrong with him? … hurting bad?"
"…the pills. Too much of a damn… …try talking to him."
The light from the kitchen darkened as a new figure stepped into the doorway. Himchan rolled his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, praying it was too dark in the corner where his bed was for anyone to see his face.
"Channie?" Cool fingers swept across his clammy forehead. "Come on and take your pain medicine. You'll go to sleep and feel better in the morning."
He could feel tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "No," He managed to stammer out.
The wetness on his cheek was brushed off before the hand cupped his face and turned him over. Jongup's eyes were worried and he had his bottom lip stuck tight between his teeth as he looked down at him.
"No one will think less of you for needing help," Jongup told him gently. He more than anyone else could sense why Himchan was so reluctant to ease his suffering. "It's just one pill. I'm sure tomorrow night won't be this bad. Let's just get through this one."
His other hand held the bottle of pills and Yongguk stood behind him with the glass of water. Himchan knew if he didn't give in that his two friends would stay awake all night keeping watch over him and they would be exhausted tomorrow all because of his stubbornness.
He managed to lift his head enough for Jongup to slip a pill between his lips and help him take a sip from the glass. The pill felt stuck in his dry throat.
"Thank you," Jongup shot a relieved at Yongguk and nodded towards the door. "You go ahead to my bed. I'll stay with Himchan."
Yongguk didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed his pillow and waved halfheartedly as he stumbled towards some much needed sleep.
Himchan tried to tell Jongup he didn't need a babysitter and to go to bed but the pill would need a little bit longer to kick in and all he could do was blink up at him pathetically.
"Scoot over," Jongup smoothed the blanket around Himchan's shoulders and tucked it around him tightly before climbing into the bed beside him. "Feeling any better yet?"
He knew if he said no that Jongup would lie beside him and worry so he managed a small nod.
"Good."
Himchan felt himself grow warmer under the blanket as Jongup curled around him protectively. An arm and leg was thrown over his own and Jongup's chest was hard and secured against his back. Himchan felt frail and childlike so wrapped up in Jongup's smaller body but by then his pain meds were finally, blissfully, starting to kick in and he didn't think anything else in the world mattered more than Jongup trying so hard to make him feel safe.
He didn't sleep that night. He couldn't, not with Jongup's hot breath on his ear and his palm on his chest. And not with the chemicals swirling around his bloodstream and without his knowing making him crave them more and more.
---
"You look like hell."
The statement was true but that didn't mean Himchan appreciated it.
"Rough night." He punched his timesheet into the machine and pulled his work gloves out of his back pocket. Ten hours doing nothing but mind-numbing rotations at work was actually helpful when he was jonesing for a pick-me-up. It kept him busy and away from distractions and distractions were what brought the cravings on. Even something as simple as a television commercial could send him spiraling out of control and on a two day bender before he even realized what was happening. "Did the new shipment come in?"
Munhee nodded. "Came in last night right at closing. We're in charge of putting it away before going down to the floor."
That was at least two hours of solid work, no breaks and no thinking involved. Himchan was grateful for that. Two hours without going back to the band in his mind was better than nothing.
"Hey man, you alright? Seriously? You always come in looking tired but you kind of look like you haven't slept in three weeks."
It was actually forty-two hours and six minutes since he'd slept but Munhee didn't need to know that.
"Caught a bug over the weekend," The lies used to tie his stomach up in knots but over the years they grew easier and now they spilled out slick as oil from his chapped lips. "Spent it all in the bathroom with my head in the toilet."
That at least was a partial truth. He had spent his weekend with his head in the toilet but it was because the whiskey didn't seem to want him as much as he needed it.
"That stinks." Munhee edged casually away from whatever germs he believed Himchan to be breathing out. "I'll meet you in the warehouse."
If Munhee wanted to keep his distance while they put away the new car parts then that was fine with Himchan. He wanted nothing more than to spend the next ten hours working himself to death and going home afterwards to crash onto his moth-eaten couch.
---
"You're late."
The man leaning against his bus stop sign had his arms crossed and his jaw set tightly.
"Sorry," Himchan glanced around nervously but it was past rush hour and most of the city workers were already safe in their homes and out of the subzero weather. "I had to stay over and fill out paperwork for work."
The expression on the face glaring at him didn't change. Himchan didn't know his dealers name. He'd never asked and he would never be sure if the one given to him was correct or not anyways. He always referred to him as The Ninja in his mind. His clothes were always black from head to toe and Himchan was about fifty percent positive those were the shape of throwing stars in the man's pockets.
"You have money?"
Himchan nodded, patting the front of his hoodie where a whole quarter of his paycheck was rolled up. He may have been a drug addict but he wasn't stupid. He knew he had to have food and rent money and how to budget. Every successful addict should learn to budget, he told himself. That would be a great idea for a book one day. How to Fuck Up Your Life But Still Balance Your Checkbook. He stifled a laugh. The Ninja wouldn't appreciate that joke.
"Percocet or Opana?"
He hesitated. Opana was the stronger of the two but it also meant once he took it he was down for the count the rest of the evening. On the other hand, that was exactly what he needed right at that moment.
"Can I do half and half?"
The Ninja rolled his eyes. "I’m not running a pharmacy here. Do you want them or not? I've got more customers to see."
"Give me the Percocet." He still had half a bottle of tequila under his sink and about three pulls of the whiskey in the cabinet. There might even be some beer somewhere in his fridge if he looked hard enough. It didn't add much to the experience but it was better than nothing. He could mix the alcohol and the pain killers and maybe end up with a pretty decent high. Plus the Percocet meant he had enough money left over for a pizza.
The shame he felt walking home through the iced over streets, hat pulled low over his face so no one would recognize him, that cost him more than the damn drugs ever could.
---
"You still up?"
When Himchan glanced over at the door he saw Jongup leaning casually against it, hands pulling self-consciously at his t-shirt hem.
"Can't sleep. Why are you still awake?"
Jongup shrugged. His sleepy eyes probed into Himchan's before he finally relaxed, satisfied at whatever he seen.
"I saw a light in the hallway. Figured it was you. You never sleep anymore. You look like your arm is feeling better." He took a step into the room, closing the door behind him. They both glanced towards Yongguk's bed where he was sound asleep, mouth open against his pillow. "What are you reading? Am I bothering you?"
Himchan only grabbed the book out of Yongguk's bookcase so he'd have an alibi if someone came in. He didn't even know the name of whatever he was supposedly reading. "Something of Guk's. You never bother me. You okay?"
The sweetness Jongup always exuded sometimes hid his expressions and right now Himchan was surprised to see the tired lines around his bandmate's eyes.
"I don't want you to be angry at me."
That came out of nowhere and it took Himchan a few moments to understand what he had heard.
"Why would I be angry at you? Jonguppie, come here." He held his hands out to the younger boy, trying in vain to tug him down onto the bed. Jongup was refusing to make eye contact, his body stiff and unmoving no matter how much Himchan pulled on him. "I've never been mad at you. You're my favorite."
The familiar expression made Jongup crack a tiny smile and let Himchan take his hands.
"It was my turn to do the laundry today."
Himchan still didn't comprehend what Jongup was talking about. He knew Jongup was in charge of laundry on Tuesday's. On Tuesday nights his shirts always came in wrinkled and mixed with at least one pair of Yongguk's jeans.
"You had some stuff in your pocket," The meaning of what Jongup was so upset about hit Himchan like a punch to the gut. "Youngjae makes me check everyone's pockets so he doesn't end up with gum in his sweaters again." Jongup shakily pulled a crumpled sandwich bag out and ran his fingers over the smashed pills inside. "Himchan…"
"If you snort them they get into your system faster," He knew he was in deep shit and that Jongup held Damocles sword high over his head now. If the truth was what Jongup was after then Himchan was going to give it to him. "Let me have them back, Jongup."
"No," The defiance coming from Jongup was new. Up to now he had always done anything Himchan had asked of him without question. "I'm flushing them down the toilet."
Himchan's heart sped up and white-hot rage spilled across his skin. Deep down he promised himself he would never hurt Jongup, never Jongup, not in a million years.
But those were his. And he needed them.
"Jongup," The frightened boy beside him trembled at the terrifying way Himchan had said his name. So calm and even but laced with threats. "Those are mine. You stole them from me. I'd like them back."
Again, Jongup stared him down bravely. "No." He pushed them back into the pocket of his pajama shorts and shoved Himchan back with a palm against the chest as he got out of the bed. "It's been three weeks since your surgery and you don’t need them anymore."
He did need them though. He wasn't using every day and it only took a tiny bit to get him past the withdrawals, but he knew if Jongup took what little bit he had saved up that it would take a lot of effort to acquire more of them. Effort was something he had little of more and more each day.
"You have no idea what I need."
The words put an end to the hesitance in Jongup's expression. His jaw tightened in frustration as he glared down at Himchan. "I know more than you think, Kim Himchan. And I know you're on the road to making the biggest mistake of your life and I also know you are going to feel really damn bad when you get up tomorrow and remember the way you spoke to me."
He stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. Yongguk jumped out of the bed, pillow held in front of him like a shield.
"What happened?" The sound of the toilet flushing was loud in the small dorm. "Did Daehyun knock over the toilet again?"
"No. Go back to bed." Himchan could hear the soft footfalls in the hallway as Jongup made his way back to his room. They stopped for a moment outside the door as if Jongup was contemplating coming back in. Himchan wasn't sure which scenario he wanted. In the end Jongup much have changed his mind and continued on.
It had been fourteen hour since Himchan had taken anything. He knew he only had a small window of time before the craving would get too bad and he'd be desperate for the buzz. Jongup being angry at him had only shortened that sliver of time up. He hated it when anyone disliked him but it being Jongup made Himchan feel an ache deep down in his belly. Jongup was his favorite, everyone knew it, and even just seeing him smile his way would make Himchan's whole body come alive.
"You look like you're going to throw up."
Yongguk's quiet voice broke him out of his reverie.
"I think I caught a bug somewhere," The first of many lies to cover himself rolled out of Himchan's lips. He had never lied to Yongguk before. "I might have to make a doctor's appointment tomorrow."
Yongguk stared at him for a beat longer than necessary, as if he were silently judging whether to believe him. "You gotta do what you gotta do."
---
Himchan didn't remember much after he left The Ninja at the bus stop. The first two pills went down when he was only halfway home and by the time he reached his building he didn't even notice the cold anymore.
His life had become variations of the same things over and over again. No matter what day of the week it was he still felt like a hamster running as fast as it could on a broken wheel. Wake up, work, get drunk or high, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Sometimes he would lie even to himself and pretend he had it kicked. That going three days without one single thing in his system meant he had miraculously recovered. But it never lasted and he always ended up right back where he was right now.
Two weeks after he had received the wedding invitation from Youngjae he still hadn't replied. The cream colored paper looked out of place against his yellowing refrigerator. Please respond by February 25. We look forward to seeing you! He wondered for the hundredth time why Youngjae had invited him. The band had broken up after Himchan was hauled away to jail and the only person who still remotely stayed in contact with him was Junhong. A handful of phone calls every year and one or two pop-in visits didn't mean they were friends, but it made Himchan feel like at least Junhong still cared a tiny bit about him.
But him and Youngjae had never been particularly close so this felt completely out of the blue. He had a split second of thinking that maybe this was a publicity stunt. That the band just wanted to humiliate him by bringing them all together just to show how fucked-up Himchan's life had become.
He rubbed the thick paper between his fingers as he reached for an ink pen on the counter. Felt expensive. Youngjae must have been doing good for himself after B.A.P ended. He'd always talked about going to business school and taking accounting classes. Himchan hadn't felt the need to ever look any of the members up and Junhong had never volunteered information so he didn't know what any of the other boys had done with themselves. They could all be married by this point.
The random thought sent prickles down Himchan's arm. What would he do if he showed up at the wedding and saw a ring on Jongup's finger? Would he be able to take it?
Himchan quickly marked an X so hard through the paper that it poked a hole in it.
I am unable to attend.
Part Two
Rating: PG13
Length: 3.6K
Tired eyes, maybe you've seen too much.
Tired heart, every end has a start
If you find yourself in trouble, falling off the track
Would you come back
- (X)
The first swallow of whiskey was always the hardest. The tingle as it hit your tongue, the slow, deep burn as it slid down your throat. The aftertaste that was part nausea and part regret. But after a few moments it grew easier. He was able to tip the glass back quicker and the grimace loosened up to the point where he was almost smiling as it poured through him.
Drinking made him forget.
Regrets washed over him like tidal waves of pain and the pills just didn't work to stop it anymore. Himchan hated the way the pharmacists looked at him as he handed the slips of paper across the counter to refill his prescriptions. Hated the spark of recognition mixing in with the confusion of why he was filling such strong doses of medicine.
The doctor told him it shouldn't be used as a replacement for therapy. He was dutifully scheduled for weekly visits with a shrink that came highly recommended. He also dutifully cancelled them every single week.
With the meds not working, the drinking taking a hell of a long time to kick in, and his brain firing on all cylinders, every second that he was alive he was in rough shape and he knew it.
The envelope that had sent him into the most current downward spiral (not that he ever really needed a reason, but this one felt a little more terrifying than usual) was still sitting on the floor beside his refrigerator. The original purpose of throwing it was to get it out of his face so he could breathe and count to one hundred, something his doctor had suggested during the last visit he'd been forced to attend.
At thirteen he was hyperventilating, breath coming faster and ending in a high-pitched wheeze at the end. By forty-three he had started the long, slow deep breaths that always took him awhile to remember to do. Seventy-five was where he was able to stop.
His eyes cracked open and the cream colored paper was still there.
Youngjae was getting married. He hadn't spoken to him in four years. Not since he had come home from the police station with bleary eyes and his mother guiding him by the crook of his elbow. Youngjae had stepped out of his bedroom and eyed them warily as they passed.
"You'll come back though, right?" Youngjae's voice was calmer than Himchan was used to. "After you get better?"
He hadn't replied and by the time he finished gathering the two suitcases worth of things he cared enough to take with him, Youngjae had already retreated back inside his room, door closed solidly behind him.
And he hadn't gone back. And not just because he never did get better.
Himchan hadn't thought his old bandmate even cared enough to know where he was living now. Junhong must have given Youngjae his address because he was the only member that still bothered to keep in touch.
If Youngjae had lowered himself enough to invite him that probably meant the rest of the band was going to attend, too. Another wave of panic hit him and it took to the count of ninety-six to push the nausea down. Four years of distancing himself and doing everything possible to make the world forget Kim Himchan of B.A.P had ever existed and it all comes crashing down with one single sheet of paper.
---
There weren't always bad memories from being in the band. Himchan had enjoyed it at first. The endless partying, the groupies clamoring for his attention, the free stuff sent to their dorm every week.
And there was Jongup.
Moon Jongup was probably the best thing about the band for him. By the end of it all he had become the worst and the look in his eyes as Himchan was hauled away in handcuffs still haunted his nights.
Things started changing around the fifth year they were all together. It wasn't a drastic shift, and to be honest Himchan couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment everything turned to shit, but if he were a betting man (and that was one vice he thankfully hadn't ever picked up) he would say it was probably about the time he injured his arm. The pain was excruciating and every breath he took made his skin throb and pulse.
The doctor gave him a shot of pain killer as soon as he arrived at the emergency room. The medicine took everything away. His breaths evened out and for about an hour he completely forgot about what had happened to him. The feel of Yongguk next to him, hand on his back, was all he could remember about that night.
The need for more of that feeling didn't happen right away. He didn't even take another pain pill for two more days because he knew addiction was a slippery slope and Himchan knew he became obsessed with the wrong things way too easily already. But at two in the morning, with his stitches pulled so tight that he imagined they were ripping away his skin, he didn't have any other choice.
"Just take one," Yongguk held the bottle out, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "The doctor gave them to you so you wouldn't be in pain. Just fucking take it."
He shook his head and gripped the sheet underneath him. His teeth were clenched so tightly together that he was afraid opening his mouth to speak would end with a strangled scream.
"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" The annoyance in Yongguk's voice was growing with every whimper Himchan made. He let out a huff and stormed out of their shared bedroom towards the kitchen. There was the sound of a glass under the faucet.
Murmurs outside his door helped to pull Himchan away from the pain for a few moments. He knew that soft voice and he was curious what the two boys were saying about him.
"What's wrong with him? … hurting bad?"
"…the pills. Too much of a damn… …try talking to him."
The light from the kitchen darkened as a new figure stepped into the doorway. Himchan rolled his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, praying it was too dark in the corner where his bed was for anyone to see his face.
"Channie?" Cool fingers swept across his clammy forehead. "Come on and take your pain medicine. You'll go to sleep and feel better in the morning."
He could feel tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "No," He managed to stammer out.
The wetness on his cheek was brushed off before the hand cupped his face and turned him over. Jongup's eyes were worried and he had his bottom lip stuck tight between his teeth as he looked down at him.
"No one will think less of you for needing help," Jongup told him gently. He more than anyone else could sense why Himchan was so reluctant to ease his suffering. "It's just one pill. I'm sure tomorrow night won't be this bad. Let's just get through this one."
His other hand held the bottle of pills and Yongguk stood behind him with the glass of water. Himchan knew if he didn't give in that his two friends would stay awake all night keeping watch over him and they would be exhausted tomorrow all because of his stubbornness.
He managed to lift his head enough for Jongup to slip a pill between his lips and help him take a sip from the glass. The pill felt stuck in his dry throat.
"Thank you," Jongup shot a relieved at Yongguk and nodded towards the door. "You go ahead to my bed. I'll stay with Himchan."
Yongguk didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed his pillow and waved halfheartedly as he stumbled towards some much needed sleep.
Himchan tried to tell Jongup he didn't need a babysitter and to go to bed but the pill would need a little bit longer to kick in and all he could do was blink up at him pathetically.
"Scoot over," Jongup smoothed the blanket around Himchan's shoulders and tucked it around him tightly before climbing into the bed beside him. "Feeling any better yet?"
He knew if he said no that Jongup would lie beside him and worry so he managed a small nod.
"Good."
Himchan felt himself grow warmer under the blanket as Jongup curled around him protectively. An arm and leg was thrown over his own and Jongup's chest was hard and secured against his back. Himchan felt frail and childlike so wrapped up in Jongup's smaller body but by then his pain meds were finally, blissfully, starting to kick in and he didn't think anything else in the world mattered more than Jongup trying so hard to make him feel safe.
He didn't sleep that night. He couldn't, not with Jongup's hot breath on his ear and his palm on his chest. And not with the chemicals swirling around his bloodstream and without his knowing making him crave them more and more.
---
"You look like hell."
The statement was true but that didn't mean Himchan appreciated it.
"Rough night." He punched his timesheet into the machine and pulled his work gloves out of his back pocket. Ten hours doing nothing but mind-numbing rotations at work was actually helpful when he was jonesing for a pick-me-up. It kept him busy and away from distractions and distractions were what brought the cravings on. Even something as simple as a television commercial could send him spiraling out of control and on a two day bender before he even realized what was happening. "Did the new shipment come in?"
Munhee nodded. "Came in last night right at closing. We're in charge of putting it away before going down to the floor."
That was at least two hours of solid work, no breaks and no thinking involved. Himchan was grateful for that. Two hours without going back to the band in his mind was better than nothing.
"Hey man, you alright? Seriously? You always come in looking tired but you kind of look like you haven't slept in three weeks."
It was actually forty-two hours and six minutes since he'd slept but Munhee didn't need to know that.
"Caught a bug over the weekend," The lies used to tie his stomach up in knots but over the years they grew easier and now they spilled out slick as oil from his chapped lips. "Spent it all in the bathroom with my head in the toilet."
That at least was a partial truth. He had spent his weekend with his head in the toilet but it was because the whiskey didn't seem to want him as much as he needed it.
"That stinks." Munhee edged casually away from whatever germs he believed Himchan to be breathing out. "I'll meet you in the warehouse."
If Munhee wanted to keep his distance while they put away the new car parts then that was fine with Himchan. He wanted nothing more than to spend the next ten hours working himself to death and going home afterwards to crash onto his moth-eaten couch.
---
"You're late."
The man leaning against his bus stop sign had his arms crossed and his jaw set tightly.
"Sorry," Himchan glanced around nervously but it was past rush hour and most of the city workers were already safe in their homes and out of the subzero weather. "I had to stay over and fill out paperwork for work."
The expression on the face glaring at him didn't change. Himchan didn't know his dealers name. He'd never asked and he would never be sure if the one given to him was correct or not anyways. He always referred to him as The Ninja in his mind. His clothes were always black from head to toe and Himchan was about fifty percent positive those were the shape of throwing stars in the man's pockets.
"You have money?"
Himchan nodded, patting the front of his hoodie where a whole quarter of his paycheck was rolled up. He may have been a drug addict but he wasn't stupid. He knew he had to have food and rent money and how to budget. Every successful addict should learn to budget, he told himself. That would be a great idea for a book one day. How to Fuck Up Your Life But Still Balance Your Checkbook. He stifled a laugh. The Ninja wouldn't appreciate that joke.
"Percocet or Opana?"
He hesitated. Opana was the stronger of the two but it also meant once he took it he was down for the count the rest of the evening. On the other hand, that was exactly what he needed right at that moment.
"Can I do half and half?"
The Ninja rolled his eyes. "I’m not running a pharmacy here. Do you want them or not? I've got more customers to see."
"Give me the Percocet." He still had half a bottle of tequila under his sink and about three pulls of the whiskey in the cabinet. There might even be some beer somewhere in his fridge if he looked hard enough. It didn't add much to the experience but it was better than nothing. He could mix the alcohol and the pain killers and maybe end up with a pretty decent high. Plus the Percocet meant he had enough money left over for a pizza.
The shame he felt walking home through the iced over streets, hat pulled low over his face so no one would recognize him, that cost him more than the damn drugs ever could.
---
"You still up?"
When Himchan glanced over at the door he saw Jongup leaning casually against it, hands pulling self-consciously at his t-shirt hem.
"Can't sleep. Why are you still awake?"
Jongup shrugged. His sleepy eyes probed into Himchan's before he finally relaxed, satisfied at whatever he seen.
"I saw a light in the hallway. Figured it was you. You never sleep anymore. You look like your arm is feeling better." He took a step into the room, closing the door behind him. They both glanced towards Yongguk's bed where he was sound asleep, mouth open against his pillow. "What are you reading? Am I bothering you?"
Himchan only grabbed the book out of Yongguk's bookcase so he'd have an alibi if someone came in. He didn't even know the name of whatever he was supposedly reading. "Something of Guk's. You never bother me. You okay?"
The sweetness Jongup always exuded sometimes hid his expressions and right now Himchan was surprised to see the tired lines around his bandmate's eyes.
"I don't want you to be angry at me."
That came out of nowhere and it took Himchan a few moments to understand what he had heard.
"Why would I be angry at you? Jonguppie, come here." He held his hands out to the younger boy, trying in vain to tug him down onto the bed. Jongup was refusing to make eye contact, his body stiff and unmoving no matter how much Himchan pulled on him. "I've never been mad at you. You're my favorite."
The familiar expression made Jongup crack a tiny smile and let Himchan take his hands.
"It was my turn to do the laundry today."
Himchan still didn't comprehend what Jongup was talking about. He knew Jongup was in charge of laundry on Tuesday's. On Tuesday nights his shirts always came in wrinkled and mixed with at least one pair of Yongguk's jeans.
"You had some stuff in your pocket," The meaning of what Jongup was so upset about hit Himchan like a punch to the gut. "Youngjae makes me check everyone's pockets so he doesn't end up with gum in his sweaters again." Jongup shakily pulled a crumpled sandwich bag out and ran his fingers over the smashed pills inside. "Himchan…"
"If you snort them they get into your system faster," He knew he was in deep shit and that Jongup held Damocles sword high over his head now. If the truth was what Jongup was after then Himchan was going to give it to him. "Let me have them back, Jongup."
"No," The defiance coming from Jongup was new. Up to now he had always done anything Himchan had asked of him without question. "I'm flushing them down the toilet."
Himchan's heart sped up and white-hot rage spilled across his skin. Deep down he promised himself he would never hurt Jongup, never Jongup, not in a million years.
But those were his. And he needed them.
"Jongup," The frightened boy beside him trembled at the terrifying way Himchan had said his name. So calm and even but laced with threats. "Those are mine. You stole them from me. I'd like them back."
Again, Jongup stared him down bravely. "No." He pushed them back into the pocket of his pajama shorts and shoved Himchan back with a palm against the chest as he got out of the bed. "It's been three weeks since your surgery and you don’t need them anymore."
He did need them though. He wasn't using every day and it only took a tiny bit to get him past the withdrawals, but he knew if Jongup took what little bit he had saved up that it would take a lot of effort to acquire more of them. Effort was something he had little of more and more each day.
"You have no idea what I need."
The words put an end to the hesitance in Jongup's expression. His jaw tightened in frustration as he glared down at Himchan. "I know more than you think, Kim Himchan. And I know you're on the road to making the biggest mistake of your life and I also know you are going to feel really damn bad when you get up tomorrow and remember the way you spoke to me."
He stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. Yongguk jumped out of the bed, pillow held in front of him like a shield.
"What happened?" The sound of the toilet flushing was loud in the small dorm. "Did Daehyun knock over the toilet again?"
"No. Go back to bed." Himchan could hear the soft footfalls in the hallway as Jongup made his way back to his room. They stopped for a moment outside the door as if Jongup was contemplating coming back in. Himchan wasn't sure which scenario he wanted. In the end Jongup much have changed his mind and continued on.
It had been fourteen hour since Himchan had taken anything. He knew he only had a small window of time before the craving would get too bad and he'd be desperate for the buzz. Jongup being angry at him had only shortened that sliver of time up. He hated it when anyone disliked him but it being Jongup made Himchan feel an ache deep down in his belly. Jongup was his favorite, everyone knew it, and even just seeing him smile his way would make Himchan's whole body come alive.
"You look like you're going to throw up."
Yongguk's quiet voice broke him out of his reverie.
"I think I caught a bug somewhere," The first of many lies to cover himself rolled out of Himchan's lips. He had never lied to Yongguk before. "I might have to make a doctor's appointment tomorrow."
Yongguk stared at him for a beat longer than necessary, as if he were silently judging whether to believe him. "You gotta do what you gotta do."
---
Himchan didn't remember much after he left The Ninja at the bus stop. The first two pills went down when he was only halfway home and by the time he reached his building he didn't even notice the cold anymore.
His life had become variations of the same things over and over again. No matter what day of the week it was he still felt like a hamster running as fast as it could on a broken wheel. Wake up, work, get drunk or high, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Sometimes he would lie even to himself and pretend he had it kicked. That going three days without one single thing in his system meant he had miraculously recovered. But it never lasted and he always ended up right back where he was right now.
Two weeks after he had received the wedding invitation from Youngjae he still hadn't replied. The cream colored paper looked out of place against his yellowing refrigerator. Please respond by February 25. We look forward to seeing you! He wondered for the hundredth time why Youngjae had invited him. The band had broken up after Himchan was hauled away to jail and the only person who still remotely stayed in contact with him was Junhong. A handful of phone calls every year and one or two pop-in visits didn't mean they were friends, but it made Himchan feel like at least Junhong still cared a tiny bit about him.
But him and Youngjae had never been particularly close so this felt completely out of the blue. He had a split second of thinking that maybe this was a publicity stunt. That the band just wanted to humiliate him by bringing them all together just to show how fucked-up Himchan's life had become.
He rubbed the thick paper between his fingers as he reached for an ink pen on the counter. Felt expensive. Youngjae must have been doing good for himself after B.A.P ended. He'd always talked about going to business school and taking accounting classes. Himchan hadn't felt the need to ever look any of the members up and Junhong had never volunteered information so he didn't know what any of the other boys had done with themselves. They could all be married by this point.
The random thought sent prickles down Himchan's arm. What would he do if he showed up at the wedding and saw a ring on Jongup's finger? Would he be able to take it?
Himchan quickly marked an X so hard through the paper that it poked a hole in it.
I am unable to attend.
Part Two