[TEAM FIVE] The Delinquent, pt1

[lotusk]

Joonmyun is a delinquent with a thing for his shy neighbor, Jongin, who plays the violin like an angel. Inspired by this.


I saw this picture of Joonmyun and decided I had to write him as bad boy. Part 1 of a twoshot

the delinquent Perfect entertainment for a lazy day. The words echoed mockingly in Joonmyun's head as he shifted his legs—making himself more comfortable on the verge. He knew there were hella lot more entertaining things to do than sit on the sidewalk outside his house smoking, but he frankly couldn't be fucked thinking of anything else. And even if he had an alternative way to occupy his afternoon, he couldn't be bothered moving anywhere anyway. He watched lazily as white whorls of smoke drifted up around him. It was cool today. Spring was still thin in the air and Joonmyun had never liked the cold much so he was grateful for the warmth his black leather jacket gave him. Taking another languid drag on his cigarette, he watched the paper glow bright with vermilion embers. Then he shut his eyes as the smoke invaded his lungs and burnt a path through them before finding its way back into the late summer air. He loved the way the smoke hung in the air, heavy and expectant—it gave him something to look at as he sat there with his Marlboros. He didn't smoke in the house because that shit clung to everything; and anyway, Grandfather had asthma. Fine lines creased his forehead as he took another deep drag. . .and that’s when he heard them. Footsteps. The quiet ones he knew so well. Joonmyun didn't have to look up to know it was The Boy. The one who lived two doors down from him. He was tall. Joonmyun craved height so it was usually the first thing he noticed about a person—how tall they were. The Boy had this way of walking where his limbs just kind of flowed and it was really something to watch. But the really fascinating thing was that The Boy moved with such confident grace, and yet everything else about him was just the slightest bit awkward. He seemed to hide behind the understated wire framed glasses he wore and his default gaze was usually directed at the floor. Even his fringe tended to be just a touch too long so the ends caressed his eyelids, obscuring his eyes just a little bit. He always wore the dullest, most insipid palette of colors—midnight blues and blacks and stormy greys, nondescript pale blues and greys and stark whites. He looked like the typical boy next door—the shy edition—the kind that all the parents in the neighborhood adored because he was always polite and respectful and never loud. Joonmyun was the flip side of that perfect kid. He was the kid who skipped school all the time and stayed out late and sometimes came home reeking of booze—the one that parents hissed warnings to their kids about, telling them not to be seen with Kim Joonmyun and warning them not to have anything to do with that delinquent. He would put his grandfather, who also happened to be his only living relative, in an early grave with his unruly behavior. Barely scraping through school with no future to speak of. . .that was Kim Joonmyun. But The Boy hadn't listened, hadn't cared about parental warnings and threats when they'd— Agitated, he stubbed his dying cigarette on the Tarmac, and reached for another. Ramming the cigarette into his mouth, Joonmyun lit it with hands that were more than a little shaky. Why did seeing The Boy still have the power to unsettle him? It had been more than a year—why couldn’t he be cool about this? You should stop lying to yourself and just call him Jongin instead of The Boy. It's not like you haven't been neighbours for five years. It's not like you don't know each other's names. It's not like you haven’t tasted. . .Joonmyun made a frustrated noise and strangled his thoughts by taking a deep, shaky drag on the cigarette clipped between his index and third finger—a cigarette which already tasted stale and unappealing. the violinist Jongin smelt the smoke before he’d even turned the corner and his heart did that sick little sad twist it always did when he saw the slim, leather-clad figure—white mist curling around him like dragon's breath. His chestnut hair was swept up in a James Deanesque quiff and he was dressed in all black—the way he usually was. Face sullen, he was behaving as if he hadn’t seen Jongin, and the first few times he’d done it, Jongin had tried to make Joonmyun explain why he was suddenly shutting him out when they hadn’t even fought. What did I do wrong?Jongin had asked repeatedly but Joonmyun had just ignored him and he’d been so cold and quiet no matter how many times he asked, that after a while, Jongin had stopped trying. They’d been like cable cars on a circuit since, passing each other now and then but never stopping and never quite meeting. Jongin didn’t try to tell himself that he didn’t care that Joonmyun had stopped talking to him because he did care, and Jongin wasn’t the sort to lie to himself—he never had been. He did care that the handsome face that used to smile at him in that devil-may-care way (usually when Joonmyun was trying to talk him into doing something crazy) no longer sent any smiles in his direction. He did care that he no longer had anyone to tell his secrets to, when before, Joonmyun had been the caretaker for all his deepest, darkest ones. The sheet of white paper, thick and crisp, lay in a folder in his backpack—safe from getting crushed or wrinkled or torn. Still a secret and he didn’t want to share it with anyone but Joonmyun. Only Joonmyun, the words echoed in Jongin’s mind with a determined finality. He could still remember the last time they’d spoken like it was minutes ago, the scent of Joonmyun’s styling wax tinged with tobacco, and the texture of the other boy’s fingertips against his skin—urgent and sure. The sound of his voice, surprisingly calm and quiet for someone who got into trouble in school with the kind regularity he did—a voice that was tempered by sarcasm rather than aggression because fists weren’t really Joonmyun’s style. . . a year ago Jongin's jaw was pressed to the chin rest as his fingers moved deftly over the strings and the melody of Sibelius's Violin Concerto in D Minor Op.47 soared and climbed and filled the room. He'd been rehearsing the piece for weeks but he still wasn't happy. The Juilliard auditions were in just three months and it had to be perfect—absolutely perfect—but it wasn't. Far from it, he sighed inwardly before shaking all the thoughts away. Eyes focused on the music sheets in front of him, Jongin was about to flip the page when there was a slight commotion and the door to the practice room flung inward, a moving blur of black and pale, pale skin virtually tumbling into the room. Distracted, Jongin carefully laid his violin across his lap and turned to see just what or rather, who had invaded his bubble of quiet. He’d just have to start from the beginning now, he frowned a little exasperatedly at the thought of the aborted session. Jongin watched curiously as the invader looked up at him and to his surprise, it was no stranger looking back at him, but a familiar face. "Joonmyun?" There was no hiding the surprise in his voice and Jongin didn't even attempt it. "I think i managed to evade Mr. Park but i'm going to hide in that store room at the back anyway. Can't be too careful," Joonmyun said, breathless and panting, as he sat on the tiled floor with his back against the wall. "What the hell did you do this time?!" "I'll tell you later. Maaaybe. But I need to stay out of sight. If Park Chanyeol can't prove it's me then he won't be able to call Grandfather—I don't want the old man upset," Joonmyun picked himself off the ground and walked over to where Jongin stood, close by the window. "Stay out of trouble then, you dumbass," Jongin sighed. They'd had this conversation countless times. He wished Joonmyun would stop hanging out with Do Kyungsoo and Huang Zitao because they were the worst kind of trouble and everyone in the school knew it. Kyungsoo, especially, had a wildness in his eyes and a glacial ruthlessness to him that worried Jongin to the core. He didn't like Do Kyungsoo, he didn't like him at all. He only hoped Joonmyun hadn't done anything too irretrievably stupid this time, "what did you do? Why was Park looking for you?" "Never mind that," Joonmyun slid closer, his eyes dark with intention. "Joon—" was all Jongin managed to say before Joonmyun's mouth was the only thing he knew, and it was pure instinct guiding him as he parted his lips without hesitation. Groaning huskily, Jongin's tongue wrapped itself around Joonmyun's searching one and he barely even registered as Joonmyun backed him slowly towards the classroom wall. Their mouths moving hungrily against each other, the other boy laced his fingers in Jongin’s and pushed the backs of hands against the classroom wall and for the next while, all they did was kiss—lips, neck, collarbones, ears, and lips again. ♦ ♦ ♦ “I missed you,” Joonmyun said finally as he looped his arms around the lean, hard angles of Jongin’s body and leaned his cheek against his chest. “I missed you too,” Jongin said quietly as he hugged him back with a certain air of desperation. Jongin’s heart beat was clean and pure and good, and nothing gave Joonmyun more comfort than to have the other boy in his arms—to sink into his strength and soak up his warmth and kindness. In the turbulent ocean that was his messed up life, Jongin was his anchor, and whenever Joonmyun could, he clung to him shamelessly. “I should hide,” Joonmyun said regretfully as he laced their fingers together and kissed him. “Yes, you sh—” was all he managed to say before the door swung open and Mr Park Chanyeol, the Discipline teacher, walked in with an accusing glare. “Oh shit,” Joonmyun muttered in muted frustration.

goodbyelover is skipping this round so nachtegael is up

Comments

[bluedreaming]

WOW I LOVED THIS TO BITS

and what are you talking about you can't plot

THERES SO MUCH PLOT HERE

Sniffs

This is so RICH and I can taste the threads of different stories and possibilities winding around like rows of rosy apples, waiting for someone (Junmyeon) to take a bite.

And maybe Jongin is already nibbling from the other side.

[lotusk]

Rows of rosy apples - I love that line ;;;;; I'm so glad you see much here, Ansa. I think most people will just find it static and boring tho ;-; so bless you!