Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

⑤⓪ When We Fall Apart

Barely, the gentle exhale of a suppressed sigh came from the direction Chan was in before the sound of boots on linoleum filled his ears. He heard rummaging in cabinets, a faucet at some point, but Jeongin let his eyes fixate on the ceiling far above him and blocked out the noises around him.

There was not much else to do as he waited; he pressed his fingertips together, trying to press the pads in on themselves and make the joints ache; he played lightly will the strings of his hoodie, making knots in the pulls before untying and repeating for an excuse of entertainment; and counting the amount of lines he saw in the room, listing the shapes, telling himself that there wasn't anything odd about the room or anything that was misplaced. He had the smallest of suspicions that something was slightly ajar, but, never pressed on the theory. Instead, letting himself delve into his own mind he didn't dare trespass alone.

A vibration came from the coffee table. The reverberations sent tremors through the glass top, a needlessly loud announcement that attention should be drawn to it at any moment. Chan's phone. It rang and rang against the delicate surface.

He is on his phone a lot, maybe it's business? Jeongin propped himself up on a bruised elbow. He glanced to Chan who didn't seem to noticed the noise, too wrapped up in whatever he was doing, before looking back to the phone. It's vibrations died out as he did so, the end going silent as no one was demanding to talk with the older. He quietly began to lay back down.

Chan's phone went off again. Jeongin propped himself back up and watched the screen light up, ready to yell at the older that someone was trying to reach him.

Jeongin froze.

He didn't remember his friend's numbers. But, that one never left his mind. It was on emergency contacts and permission slips, speed dials and medical forms, hounded into his brain so he always had a phone to call.

The number that flashed across the screen was the same as his father's.

You haven't been hanging around with any shady characters lately,

have you?

With trembling hands, Jeongin snatched the phone off the coffee table. Reading and rereading, checking once, checking again, that was the only number it could have been.

Then, footsteps. Chan. He was coming back.

Jeongin glanced up from the electronic in his hand and met his gaze. In an instant, he could watch and nearly pinpoint the second of confusion in the older's face and in the next second, an immediate understanding of his change in demeanor. Like a light switch flipping on and off.

Jeongin stood from the couch; knees wobbling with an uncertainty and head reeling through a spinning world, "No. No, don't get near me."

In turn, Chan stated calmly, "Let me explain."

"I won't listen to anything you have to say," Jeongin growled at him.

"Need to hear me out," The older kept a gentle tone about him, one that Jeongin had never heard him use before. Maybe once or twice, or tinges of it here and there but never before like this. If he let his guard down, he would almost fall for the sweet allure of it. But Chan kept talking, "It's not what you're thinking."

"Did you delete their contacts?"

"Who's? Don't know what you're talking about So-" Chan cut himself off, weight shifting as he pressed his lips in a line. As he stepped forward, he corrected himself, "... Jeongin."

Jeongin shook his head as he backed behind the couch, nearly tripping over his feet, "I don't trust you."

"Don't trust me. But you need to at least know this."