A Drug Stronger than Cocaine

1:24 AM
Tuesday morning

The last thing Nam-Gyu thought he'd be doing after he got off of work would be driving to Su-Bong's house to make sure he was actually taking care of himself after an episode. Like he told Nam-Gyu over the phone.

He didn't care about this idiot anyway, and he was sure Su-Bong didn't care about him either. He was just going out of..curiosity. Yeah. He wasn't gonna be concerned if when he arrived, Su-Bong was practically a zombie. He wouldn't. Totally.

2:30 AM

Su-Bong's house was a good drive from the club. About a hour or so. Nam-Gyu had arrived a few minutes late, having went to the gas station to grab some snacks, because it was more than likely Su-Bong hadn't ate in a day or two.

Nam-Gyu sighed, running a hand through his hair and stepping out of his car, shutting the door behind him with a bit more force than needed. This idiot was so frustrating. Yet, Nam-Gyu couldn't help but worry about him. Nam-Gyu grabbed the gas station bags out his backseat, the rustling of the plastic a little louder than usual in the quiet parking lot. He huffed, shutting the backseat door.

2:34 AM

After walking up the stairs of Su-Bongs shitty apartment complex, he finally reached his door, unlocking it with the spare key Su-Bong had gave him. Su-Bong never told Nam-Gyu why he gave it to him. Maybe it was for instances like this. Times when Su-Bong needed some help.

Nam-Gyu opened the door, setting the bags down on Su-Bong's living room coffee table. It was eerily quiet. Usually, Su-Bong would be blasting some weird American music from the beat up speaker he had in his room. Nam-Gyu could barely decipher a word of what they were saying half of the time. He didn't understand English, and he damn well couldn't understand it with how choppy the sound of the speaker was. But no choppy-foreign music today. Just the quiet hum of what sounded like Su-Bong's fan.

It concerned Nam-Gyu, but he didn't let that show. He took his coat off, hanging it up, turning some lights on in the house, and walking to Su-Bong's room.

2:40 AM

If Nam-Gyu didn't know any better, he would've thought Su-Bong was dead.

He was lying in his bed on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his arms covered in un-bandaged scars. He had told Nam-Gyu he cleaned them over the phone, but the yellow tint around them spoke otherwise. Not to mention, he had a few bruises, and a good guess would come to the conclusion he's been lying in the same few spots for a while.

Nam-Gyu stared at him for a moment, letting out a frustrated breath he didn't know he was holding in. What was he gonna do with this dumbass?

"Su-Bong. You there?"

Su-Bong had seemed to snap out of his...dissociation at that. He forced himself to sit up and looked up at Nam-Gyu, blinking and slowly processing who was in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing here?.."

"Making sure you haven't died."

Su-Bong rolled his eyes, lying back down and pulling blanket over him, rolling over onto to his side that was facing the wall "Well, you have enough evidence to confirm that concern."

Nam-Gyu scoffed. How stubborn could one person be? He walked to the living room and came back a few seconds after, sitting down on the edge of Su-Bongs bed and handing him some barbecue potato chips. "Eat. You're scrawny."

Su-Bong glared at him, but knew arguing against Nam-Gyu would be pointless, considering if he did, he'd end up with the bag shoved down his throat. He reluctantly sat up, grabbing the bag and opening it, taking a hesitant bite. He grimaced. Food tastes bad after you haven't ate for a while.

"This is ass."

3:00 AM

They had moved to the couch, but not without several complaints from Su-Bong of course. They were sitting down, the window slightly ajar for the smoke of Nam-Gyu's cigarette to go out, or as Su-Bong says to 'not stink up his house' , the dim glow of the TV illuminating the dark room.

"You're a headache." Nam-Gyu spoke up,
"Like a drug that gives you a massive hangover."

"A drug you keep relapsing on."

"Regrettably."