fic: living at the edge of the world, taekbin, r
living at the edge of the world, r
1503w
a/n: self indulgent co-dependent partners in crime /o\
living at the edge of the world
even though taekwoon was holding a pistol in his hand and a magazine in the other, hongbin wasn't looking at either. his eyes kept shifting to the small red sticker he'd put below taekwoon's left eye. it matched the microdermal piercing beneath taekwoon's right, and it looked cute; heart shaped sticker almost too small to really see, but hongbin saw it. couldn't stop staring at it.
'I had wonsik pretty it up for you,' taekwoon told him, running a finger over the teal colored hand grip. 'you can't use it very often.'
'right.'
'it's more of a gift.'
'right.'
'it'll stand out too much.'
excitement high in his blood; hongbin was sat on the hood of taekwoon's truck with his knees pulled to his chest and his chin on his knees. he sighed, exasperatedly. 'can I just see it now?' and when taekwoon tried to give it to him: 'no, put the magazine in it.'
'i'm not giving you a loaded gun.'
'why?' teasing. 'think i'm gonna shoot you, hyung?' he laughed despite the glare in taekwoon's eyes, took the gun anyway. and maybe it was a good thing taekwoon had kept the bullets, because the first thing hongbin did was bring the gun up to his eye; and staring down the nose, he pointed it directly in taekwoon's face. he whispered a soft, 'pow.'
'you're a fucking child,' but taekwoon was laughing. eyes burning bright with something like love, he leaned up on tiptoes and pressed his mouth to hongbin's cheek.
-
taekwoon kept a metal bat and a lead pipe in the bed of his truck, interchangeable; he used whichever his hand touched first. tonight it had been the lead pipe.
a thrill in his spine and breath caught in his throat; hongbin's heart had hammered watching taekwoon creep up on cat's paws; silent. not even the gravel had sounded under his feet. it was best this way. the men never saw it coming: back's poised to taekwoon's front and their hands always in their pockets, reaching for a lighter, for bus fare, for their cellphone-whatever hongbin had asked them for. and they'd stand so close, always close, their breath a murky cloud of nicotine and spearmint gum. sometimes they'd touch him and he'd have to fight the urge to recoil, because if they touched him enough taekwoon would break their fingers too, maybe their whole hand.
none of that had happened tonight, though; clean crack in the back of the guy's head and blood dribbling from his ears in streams. and his wallet: in taekwoon's hand, nothing great. an old condom packet and a handful of bills. but it was never the money they did it for.
the guy owned a black BMW with the decal painted over; it looked like someone had colored it with magic marker, it looked cheap.
'who gives a fuck about a decal,' taekwoon said when hongbin pointed this out. then told him to get in the truck, to follow but not too close.
-
they'd been collecting cars for two years; taekwoon called it a hobby, hongbin called it boring. but whatever money wonsik made off the parts he sold, they'd get 30 percent, so better not to complain; though it wasn't the money that ever interested hongbin. he liked the process: dangling himself in front of middle aged men with thinning hair and unattractive faces. he liked lingering in the shadowed sides of buildings with taekwoon's switchblade in his pocket-though he'd only used it once on a whim, and had been slapped for it-and adrenaline thick in his mouth. he'd promise to fuck them and watch their eyes blow wide, and taekwoon, silhouetted in ruin, walking like a reaper with his metal bat, his painted black pistol.
sometimes the blood splattered and speckled hongbin's shirts, sometimes it'd get on his hands and taekwoon would wash it off in gas station bathrooms, tender touches as if polishing him up. he'd kiss hongbin's clean skin and tell him to stop flirting so fucking much.
'don't be so jealous, hyung.' he'd caress the back of taekwoon's neck where his hair laid damp and tangled, and lick into his mouth, taste his breath.
'i'm not fucking you in a bathroom,' he'd said the first time hongbin did this, but fucked him anyway. fucked him every time hongbin whined hard and breathless against him because there was something about the way taekwoon's fingers looked wrapped around the bat's handle, and how big his hands were with a gun in them.
'you're fucked up,' taekwoon breathed into his mouth once as if the blood under his own nails wasn't something he loved.
'what does that make you?'
taekwoon had never answered.
-
his hair was growing long down his neck, it poked out from under his beanie in small wisps. hongbin played with them, twisted little strands around his fingers with his cheek resting on taekwoon's shoulder.
they were in the truck with the headlights off and the gas gauge open; smell of gasoline strong and nauseating.
'take the nozzle out when the tank is full,' taekwoon told him. then leaving the truck with his pistol in his waistband and his leather gloves tight on his hands. 'pull up to the curb when it's finished.'
'I love you,' hongbin called softly through the open window.
'don't forget the nozzle.'
sulking, with his bottom lip in his mouth, brushing imaginary dirt from the knees of his pants. 'I said I love you,' he whispered to the empty car.
and sharp, sounding almost angry, 'hey-' hongbin startled. and there: by the window with his beanie low over his eyes, taekwoon snickered. 'I love you too.'
hongbin bit his mouth in a line, wouldn't smile until taekwoon had left again. 'idiot.'
the gun shots didn't scare him anymore. they were like blaring horns on a highway, the savage bark of a guard dog. there had been a time when his heart flinched when the loud pop sounded from the other side of a parking lot, but it was just like everything else now: normal. just like the rust colored stains taekwoon had inadvertently smeared on the thigh of jeans. normal.
-
pile of crumpled bills on the night stand and a couple packs of smokes. hongbin, reaching into the plastic bag taekwoon had brought out of the gas station, asked warily, 'did you get the-'
'should be in there.'
and it was. the bag of m&m's he'd asked for. he dumped a handful in his mouth, stuffed it all into his cheek; and crawling from the bed-rusted springs groaning under his weight-hongbin fit himself on taekwoon's lap.
sat in an armchair with cigarette burns along the seams, loose strings hongbin pulled at incessantly on the nights he couldn't sleep; he laid his cheek on taekwoon's chest, made himself small in his arms. and his heart was wild, always pounding with a rush of blood as if he could never be calm. but with taekwoon's hand holding the side of his face, and the smell of cigarette smoke, of taekwoon's cologne strong on his clothes, hongbin felt he could sleep.
-
it had been taekwoon's idea, but hongbin was the first out of the truck. skipping from his door to stand beside the driver's side; plush grass wet under his bare feet.
'you getting out?'
'in a minute.'
their old high school looked dull under night sky light; clouds swirled like candy floss, like maybe a storm was coming. it looked different than hongbin remembered.
he put the blanket down over the bed of the truck; fleece and worn-in, smelling like gasoline and rain water; and there he waited for when taekwoon would finally find the strength to crawl out of the truck. taekwoon had liked coming here on his own sometimes, but lately it'd been harder on him, like the memories of school dances and pep rallies were too far in the past to touch freely anymore. hongbin was sure this was the only reason he'd been asked to come along this time; maybe then the memories would feel a little more real.
he was climbing over the side of the truck when he asked hongbin, 'remember prom?'
hongbin said he did.
'I think about that a lot.'
'about what?'
'how handsome you looked.'
a burst of laughter, hongbin covered his mouth. 'you were high, like, the whole time, hyung.'
fondly, 'yeah,' he pushed hongbin's hair out of his eyes. 'you still looked handsome though.'
'what about now?' hongbin asked, and leaned his forehead to taekwoon's jaw. he felt taekwoon's fingers, stained in oil and flecks of blood, trace over the scars on his inner arm, jagged dark lines that had been there for years; felt fingers brush over his palm where an especially ugly cut discolored his skin. it'd been from one of their first jobs, back when taekwoon didn't have a lead pipe and trusted hongbin enough with a knife.
taekwoon kissed his temple, muttered, 'you've never been prettier.'
a/n ^ 3^ ask.fm / twitter
1503w
a/n: self indulgent co-dependent partners in crime /o\
living at the edge of the world
even though taekwoon was holding a pistol in his hand and a magazine in the other, hongbin wasn't looking at either. his eyes kept shifting to the small red sticker he'd put below taekwoon's left eye. it matched the microdermal piercing beneath taekwoon's right, and it looked cute; heart shaped sticker almost too small to really see, but hongbin saw it. couldn't stop staring at it.
'I had wonsik pretty it up for you,' taekwoon told him, running a finger over the teal colored hand grip. 'you can't use it very often.'
'right.'
'it's more of a gift.'
'right.'
'it'll stand out too much.'
excitement high in his blood; hongbin was sat on the hood of taekwoon's truck with his knees pulled to his chest and his chin on his knees. he sighed, exasperatedly. 'can I just see it now?' and when taekwoon tried to give it to him: 'no, put the magazine in it.'
'i'm not giving you a loaded gun.'
'why?' teasing. 'think i'm gonna shoot you, hyung?' he laughed despite the glare in taekwoon's eyes, took the gun anyway. and maybe it was a good thing taekwoon had kept the bullets, because the first thing hongbin did was bring the gun up to his eye; and staring down the nose, he pointed it directly in taekwoon's face. he whispered a soft, 'pow.'
'you're a fucking child,' but taekwoon was laughing. eyes burning bright with something like love, he leaned up on tiptoes and pressed his mouth to hongbin's cheek.
-
taekwoon kept a metal bat and a lead pipe in the bed of his truck, interchangeable; he used whichever his hand touched first. tonight it had been the lead pipe.
a thrill in his spine and breath caught in his throat; hongbin's heart had hammered watching taekwoon creep up on cat's paws; silent. not even the gravel had sounded under his feet. it was best this way. the men never saw it coming: back's poised to taekwoon's front and their hands always in their pockets, reaching for a lighter, for bus fare, for their cellphone-whatever hongbin had asked them for. and they'd stand so close, always close, their breath a murky cloud of nicotine and spearmint gum. sometimes they'd touch him and he'd have to fight the urge to recoil, because if they touched him enough taekwoon would break their fingers too, maybe their whole hand.
none of that had happened tonight, though; clean crack in the back of the guy's head and blood dribbling from his ears in streams. and his wallet: in taekwoon's hand, nothing great. an old condom packet and a handful of bills. but it was never the money they did it for.
the guy owned a black BMW with the decal painted over; it looked like someone had colored it with magic marker, it looked cheap.
'who gives a fuck about a decal,' taekwoon said when hongbin pointed this out. then told him to get in the truck, to follow but not too close.
-
they'd been collecting cars for two years; taekwoon called it a hobby, hongbin called it boring. but whatever money wonsik made off the parts he sold, they'd get 30 percent, so better not to complain; though it wasn't the money that ever interested hongbin. he liked the process: dangling himself in front of middle aged men with thinning hair and unattractive faces. he liked lingering in the shadowed sides of buildings with taekwoon's switchblade in his pocket-though he'd only used it once on a whim, and had been slapped for it-and adrenaline thick in his mouth. he'd promise to fuck them and watch their eyes blow wide, and taekwoon, silhouetted in ruin, walking like a reaper with his metal bat, his painted black pistol.
sometimes the blood splattered and speckled hongbin's shirts, sometimes it'd get on his hands and taekwoon would wash it off in gas station bathrooms, tender touches as if polishing him up. he'd kiss hongbin's clean skin and tell him to stop flirting so fucking much.
'don't be so jealous, hyung.' he'd caress the back of taekwoon's neck where his hair laid damp and tangled, and lick into his mouth, taste his breath.
'i'm not fucking you in a bathroom,' he'd said the first time hongbin did this, but fucked him anyway. fucked him every time hongbin whined hard and breathless against him because there was something about the way taekwoon's fingers looked wrapped around the bat's handle, and how big his hands were with a gun in them.
'you're fucked up,' taekwoon breathed into his mouth once as if the blood under his own nails wasn't something he loved.
'what does that make you?'
taekwoon had never answered.
-
his hair was growing long down his neck, it poked out from under his beanie in small wisps. hongbin played with them, twisted little strands around his fingers with his cheek resting on taekwoon's shoulder.
they were in the truck with the headlights off and the gas gauge open; smell of gasoline strong and nauseating.
'take the nozzle out when the tank is full,' taekwoon told him. then leaving the truck with his pistol in his waistband and his leather gloves tight on his hands. 'pull up to the curb when it's finished.'
'I love you,' hongbin called softly through the open window.
'don't forget the nozzle.'
sulking, with his bottom lip in his mouth, brushing imaginary dirt from the knees of his pants. 'I said I love you,' he whispered to the empty car.
and sharp, sounding almost angry, 'hey-' hongbin startled. and there: by the window with his beanie low over his eyes, taekwoon snickered. 'I love you too.'
hongbin bit his mouth in a line, wouldn't smile until taekwoon had left again. 'idiot.'
the gun shots didn't scare him anymore. they were like blaring horns on a highway, the savage bark of a guard dog. there had been a time when his heart flinched when the loud pop sounded from the other side of a parking lot, but it was just like everything else now: normal. just like the rust colored stains taekwoon had inadvertently smeared on the thigh of jeans. normal.
-
pile of crumpled bills on the night stand and a couple packs of smokes. hongbin, reaching into the plastic bag taekwoon had brought out of the gas station, asked warily, 'did you get the-'
'should be in there.'
and it was. the bag of m&m's he'd asked for. he dumped a handful in his mouth, stuffed it all into his cheek; and crawling from the bed-rusted springs groaning under his weight-hongbin fit himself on taekwoon's lap.
sat in an armchair with cigarette burns along the seams, loose strings hongbin pulled at incessantly on the nights he couldn't sleep; he laid his cheek on taekwoon's chest, made himself small in his arms. and his heart was wild, always pounding with a rush of blood as if he could never be calm. but with taekwoon's hand holding the side of his face, and the smell of cigarette smoke, of taekwoon's cologne strong on his clothes, hongbin felt he could sleep.
-
it had been taekwoon's idea, but hongbin was the first out of the truck. skipping from his door to stand beside the driver's side; plush grass wet under his bare feet.
'you getting out?'
'in a minute.'
their old high school looked dull under night sky light; clouds swirled like candy floss, like maybe a storm was coming. it looked different than hongbin remembered.
he put the blanket down over the bed of the truck; fleece and worn-in, smelling like gasoline and rain water; and there he waited for when taekwoon would finally find the strength to crawl out of the truck. taekwoon had liked coming here on his own sometimes, but lately it'd been harder on him, like the memories of school dances and pep rallies were too far in the past to touch freely anymore. hongbin was sure this was the only reason he'd been asked to come along this time; maybe then the memories would feel a little more real.
he was climbing over the side of the truck when he asked hongbin, 'remember prom?'
hongbin said he did.
'I think about that a lot.'
'about what?'
'how handsome you looked.'
a burst of laughter, hongbin covered his mouth. 'you were high, like, the whole time, hyung.'
fondly, 'yeah,' he pushed hongbin's hair out of his eyes. 'you still looked handsome though.'
'what about now?' hongbin asked, and leaned his forehead to taekwoon's jaw. he felt taekwoon's fingers, stained in oil and flecks of blood, trace over the scars on his inner arm, jagged dark lines that had been there for years; felt fingers brush over his palm where an especially ugly cut discolored his skin. it'd been from one of their first jobs, back when taekwoon didn't have a lead pipe and trusted hongbin enough with a knife.
taekwoon kissed his temple, muttered, 'you've never been prettier.'
a/n ^ 3^ ask.fm / twitter