fic: the cigarette
title: the cigarette
fandom: beast
pairing: junhyung/dongwoon
genre: high school!au or something
rating: pg-13; language & smoking
word count: 1,295
notes: inspired by the crime prevention tips video beast featured in a while ago!! i know this scenario has been done a lot but i wanted to try it anyway hAha…… щ(ﾟДﾟщ)
-
dongwoon asks to be excused from class-"just a headache, sir"-and goes to lie down in the infirmary. the cots are cramped against the walls and he's glad the nurse is on her lunch break. squares of light from the single window paint the aseptic drywall and the peeling posters (a vaccine, like any medicine, may rarely cause serious problems!) a dingy yellow. he throws his arm across his face and its weight is a cool, dark relief to the insides of his eyelids.
a mosquito's buzzing somewhere and he's falling asleep to the sound of his own breath when the door slams open, banging the wall next to his head. dongwoon jerks upright with a strangled squeak, reflexively pulling the pillow close as a shield.
the boy shouldering in is shorter than dongwoon, he can tell, but his aggressive movements belie his slight frame. he wedges one foot against the door as he pushes into the room, the other foot dragging brokenly behind. his face is dark and closed and bloodstained, the severe slant of his mouth punctured by a cut, his left eye a swollen plum. he scowls when he sees dongwoon but says nothing, turning to rummage roughly through the cabinets.
shit, thinks dongwoon dimly. he has almost never seen yong junhyung in class, just glimpses of him lounging on the balcony with a cigarette hanging from his lips, of tattoos-tattoos in english-curling down his arm and across his collarbone (prominent, as junhyung never entirely buttons his shirt or wears the uniform tie). he exudes a quiet malevolence; the students avoid him and the teachers overlook him and his truancy.
he pulls out the first aid kit, cursing viciously-fucking fuckwad-when he knocks over rolls of bandages and bottles of tablets in the process.
dongwoon finds his voice. "i-let me help you with that." it comes out slightly breathy and high-pitched (he flinches; his voice is usually reassuringly deep, but it insists on veering out of control at the worst moments and he hates that, hates how spineless it makes him seem)-
but junhyung doesn't reject the offer. he raises an eyebrow and nods once, sharply. then he sits down heavily. he doesn't wince as his foot meets the ground, but his expression flickers, tightens.
dongwoon snaps open the first aid kit and reaches for a cold pack, shaking it forcefully, then lifting it to the other boy's face. junhyung tries (but doesn't quite manage) to suppress a hiss as the compress contacts his eyelid. "hold that there, will you?" dongwoon turns to run a cloth under the tap, then dabs it at the cut on his lip. when he presses it against the shallow furrow on his cheek, junhyung's quick inhalation knives through the silence. dongwoon winces in sympathy but doesn't decrease the pressure. "sorry. i have to stop the blood flowing."
the silence condenses, coiling from the corners of the still room until it's a concentrated, tangible weight. he's sitting next to junhyung on the bed, and junhyung looks less stern and more quizzical from this close up, his eyebrow still quirked (maybe it's stuck that way) and his lips a raw red. dongwoon sees a question glint in his eyes as they follow his actions, but he looks away. he doesn't know the answer, just feels junhyung's cheek curve with each breath he takes.
when junhyung's cheek is bandaged, dongwoon slides down from the cot and draws off junhyung's left shoe. his ankle is swollen and splotched the color of wine, and junhyung pales when dongwoon touches it tentatively. "i can't tell if it's fractured or just sprained. you'll need an x-ray. until then-" dongwoon seizes another cold pack-"just keep it elevated and on ice. only for twenty minutes at a time, though. you shouldn't walk on it for a whi-"
"you talk too much," junhyung cuts him off. it's the first time he's spoken to him so far, and his voice rasps in his throat like a wisp of cotton caught on a burr. dongwoon feels himself turning pink with embarrassment (his tingling ears alert him), but then junhyung smiles and his breath hitches. it could be mistaken for a smirk-the slight stretch of his thick lips, the upturned corner of his mouth-but his face clears like a storm's been lifted and dongwoon knows it's genuine.
"well, i'm trying to help." dongwoon pointedly looks at anything except junhyung as he stands up, dusting his knees. he's turning to tidy the counter when he feels a hand close around his wrist.
"i know. i mean," and now junhyung's the one staring at the eye chart on the wall instead of at dongwoon, "...thanks."
dongwoon thinks junhyung looks kind of like a picasso, all angles intersected by wide curves. sharp cheekbones and round cheeks, his eyes tiny almond-shaped cut outs, his lips double orange wedges, his skin a violent blooming purple. he thinks this and blurts out, "how did you get all these injuries? you don't seem like a delinqu-i mean-" he breaks off, cheeks warm. "uh, that's not-"
dongwoon fears he's pushed junhyung across the line between amusement and offense, but junhyung just shrugs. "couldn't be helped." he doesn't elaborate, leans back against the pillow. "you said i can't walk for a while?"
dongwoon nods, heart oddly constricted.
"...you gonna be a doctor or something?" junhyung crosses his arms under his head.
"i-not really. my father is. but i want to be-" he stops abruptly, ears scorching.
"what?"
dongwoon's stumped by this entire situation, by this boy who is not a delinquent but a cubist painting and the solidity of his skin under a damp washcloth and the listerine-smothered clinic and the dimming squares of sun on the close walls, so he tells him what he hasn't ever told anyone, saying miserably, "a concert pianist."
he expects junhyung either to laugh or to turn over abruptly and fall asleep, but he does neither. instead, he roots around in his trouser pockets, glancing askance at the taller boy. "i'd offer you a cigarette but i don't think you want one."
dongwoon's half scandalized and half insulted. "and how do you know that?"
junhyung grins then, and it's a wolfish, slightly frightening thing. "oh, so you do want one? c'mere." he hands dongwoon a dunhill from the pack and dongwoon sticks it in his mouth and leans down for him to light it, heart thudding so loud and so erratically he fears junhyung can hear it.
he's hardly inhaled any smoke at all when he starts coughing and coughing; the world spins and tilts crazily and flashing red sparks dance across it like fireworks. collapsing with a thump onto the bed and holding his head, he spits out the cigarette and hacks and wheezes until the earth's axes settle and the sparks fade into dull spots, his lungs still stinging and his eyes watering copiously.
junhyung's laughing a hiccuping sort of laugh throughout this, doubled over and covering his mouth with his wrist, his shoulders shaking helplessly, and dongwoon's so surprised (it isn't at all the laugh he's expected from junhyung) that he chuckles past the soreness in his lungs too, and pretty soon they're both howling like a pair of idiots (especially dongwoon, considering that he's just survived a poisoning attempt).
they've calmed down and junhyung's contemplatively exhaling wisps of smoke (dongwoon's eyes burn a little and he wonders what the nurse will think of the stench when she returns, but it doesn't matter, because the silence is comfortable, amicable this way) and dongwoon's sitting on the cot next to his feet, back against the wall, when the former finally, finally asks.
"what's your name?"
-
end notes: i didn't know how to finish this lmfao. tbc with junhyung's pov maybe? should i? idk
fandom: beast
pairing: junhyung/dongwoon
genre: high school!au or something
rating: pg-13; language & smoking
word count: 1,295
notes: inspired by the crime prevention tips video beast featured in a while ago!! i know this scenario has been done a lot but i wanted to try it anyway hAha…… щ(ﾟДﾟщ)
-
dongwoon asks to be excused from class-"just a headache, sir"-and goes to lie down in the infirmary. the cots are cramped against the walls and he's glad the nurse is on her lunch break. squares of light from the single window paint the aseptic drywall and the peeling posters (a vaccine, like any medicine, may rarely cause serious problems!) a dingy yellow. he throws his arm across his face and its weight is a cool, dark relief to the insides of his eyelids.
a mosquito's buzzing somewhere and he's falling asleep to the sound of his own breath when the door slams open, banging the wall next to his head. dongwoon jerks upright with a strangled squeak, reflexively pulling the pillow close as a shield.
the boy shouldering in is shorter than dongwoon, he can tell, but his aggressive movements belie his slight frame. he wedges one foot against the door as he pushes into the room, the other foot dragging brokenly behind. his face is dark and closed and bloodstained, the severe slant of his mouth punctured by a cut, his left eye a swollen plum. he scowls when he sees dongwoon but says nothing, turning to rummage roughly through the cabinets.
shit, thinks dongwoon dimly. he has almost never seen yong junhyung in class, just glimpses of him lounging on the balcony with a cigarette hanging from his lips, of tattoos-tattoos in english-curling down his arm and across his collarbone (prominent, as junhyung never entirely buttons his shirt or wears the uniform tie). he exudes a quiet malevolence; the students avoid him and the teachers overlook him and his truancy.
he pulls out the first aid kit, cursing viciously-fucking fuckwad-when he knocks over rolls of bandages and bottles of tablets in the process.
dongwoon finds his voice. "i-let me help you with that." it comes out slightly breathy and high-pitched (he flinches; his voice is usually reassuringly deep, but it insists on veering out of control at the worst moments and he hates that, hates how spineless it makes him seem)-
but junhyung doesn't reject the offer. he raises an eyebrow and nods once, sharply. then he sits down heavily. he doesn't wince as his foot meets the ground, but his expression flickers, tightens.
dongwoon snaps open the first aid kit and reaches for a cold pack, shaking it forcefully, then lifting it to the other boy's face. junhyung tries (but doesn't quite manage) to suppress a hiss as the compress contacts his eyelid. "hold that there, will you?" dongwoon turns to run a cloth under the tap, then dabs it at the cut on his lip. when he presses it against the shallow furrow on his cheek, junhyung's quick inhalation knives through the silence. dongwoon winces in sympathy but doesn't decrease the pressure. "sorry. i have to stop the blood flowing."
the silence condenses, coiling from the corners of the still room until it's a concentrated, tangible weight. he's sitting next to junhyung on the bed, and junhyung looks less stern and more quizzical from this close up, his eyebrow still quirked (maybe it's stuck that way) and his lips a raw red. dongwoon sees a question glint in his eyes as they follow his actions, but he looks away. he doesn't know the answer, just feels junhyung's cheek curve with each breath he takes.
when junhyung's cheek is bandaged, dongwoon slides down from the cot and draws off junhyung's left shoe. his ankle is swollen and splotched the color of wine, and junhyung pales when dongwoon touches it tentatively. "i can't tell if it's fractured or just sprained. you'll need an x-ray. until then-" dongwoon seizes another cold pack-"just keep it elevated and on ice. only for twenty minutes at a time, though. you shouldn't walk on it for a whi-"
"you talk too much," junhyung cuts him off. it's the first time he's spoken to him so far, and his voice rasps in his throat like a wisp of cotton caught on a burr. dongwoon feels himself turning pink with embarrassment (his tingling ears alert him), but then junhyung smiles and his breath hitches. it could be mistaken for a smirk-the slight stretch of his thick lips, the upturned corner of his mouth-but his face clears like a storm's been lifted and dongwoon knows it's genuine.
"well, i'm trying to help." dongwoon pointedly looks at anything except junhyung as he stands up, dusting his knees. he's turning to tidy the counter when he feels a hand close around his wrist.
"i know. i mean," and now junhyung's the one staring at the eye chart on the wall instead of at dongwoon, "...thanks."
dongwoon thinks junhyung looks kind of like a picasso, all angles intersected by wide curves. sharp cheekbones and round cheeks, his eyes tiny almond-shaped cut outs, his lips double orange wedges, his skin a violent blooming purple. he thinks this and blurts out, "how did you get all these injuries? you don't seem like a delinqu-i mean-" he breaks off, cheeks warm. "uh, that's not-"
dongwoon fears he's pushed junhyung across the line between amusement and offense, but junhyung just shrugs. "couldn't be helped." he doesn't elaborate, leans back against the pillow. "you said i can't walk for a while?"
dongwoon nods, heart oddly constricted.
"...you gonna be a doctor or something?" junhyung crosses his arms under his head.
"i-not really. my father is. but i want to be-" he stops abruptly, ears scorching.
"what?"
dongwoon's stumped by this entire situation, by this boy who is not a delinquent but a cubist painting and the solidity of his skin under a damp washcloth and the listerine-smothered clinic and the dimming squares of sun on the close walls, so he tells him what he hasn't ever told anyone, saying miserably, "a concert pianist."
he expects junhyung either to laugh or to turn over abruptly and fall asleep, but he does neither. instead, he roots around in his trouser pockets, glancing askance at the taller boy. "i'd offer you a cigarette but i don't think you want one."
dongwoon's half scandalized and half insulted. "and how do you know that?"
junhyung grins then, and it's a wolfish, slightly frightening thing. "oh, so you do want one? c'mere." he hands dongwoon a dunhill from the pack and dongwoon sticks it in his mouth and leans down for him to light it, heart thudding so loud and so erratically he fears junhyung can hear it.
he's hardly inhaled any smoke at all when he starts coughing and coughing; the world spins and tilts crazily and flashing red sparks dance across it like fireworks. collapsing with a thump onto the bed and holding his head, he spits out the cigarette and hacks and wheezes until the earth's axes settle and the sparks fade into dull spots, his lungs still stinging and his eyes watering copiously.
junhyung's laughing a hiccuping sort of laugh throughout this, doubled over and covering his mouth with his wrist, his shoulders shaking helplessly, and dongwoon's so surprised (it isn't at all the laugh he's expected from junhyung) that he chuckles past the soreness in his lungs too, and pretty soon they're both howling like a pair of idiots (especially dongwoon, considering that he's just survived a poisoning attempt).
they've calmed down and junhyung's contemplatively exhaling wisps of smoke (dongwoon's eyes burn a little and he wonders what the nurse will think of the stench when she returns, but it doesn't matter, because the silence is comfortable, amicable this way) and dongwoon's sitting on the cot next to his feet, back against the wall, when the former finally, finally asks.
"what's your name?"
-
end notes: i didn't know how to finish this lmfao. tbc with junhyung's pov maybe? should i? idk