Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

③① Concealed

"There, the bruising should be covered."

Minho backed away from Jeongin who was sitting on the trunk of his cherry red car, stepping back as if he were an artist admiring an art piece. Only, he wasn't. And although he might have painted a blank canvas, that canvas was already marked by an artist more careless than anyone else was.

The younger nodded meekly, seeming to come out from his trance with an unsure shake. Mentally reminding himself of where he was, how he got there, he had to clutch at the material of his shirt to bring himself firmly to the ground. He searched the familiar faces and one was absent. His call went unanswered too. That was when it came back; worming free, calling one of them... Changbin? Was it Changbin? It must have been that brought him back to the hub with his cheek throbbing dully, and the skin already blotching in a sickly way. Quietly, he reached a free hand to touch the spot, and feel dent on his cheekbone the diamond ring created.

"Don't go rubbing it off now. This is a bit cheap too so no water," The street racer lightly jabbed his hand away from the contusion, continously prodding it over when it looked to be wandering too close. When he didn't listen, Minho snatched his drifting hand and placed the concelear in it, "Here, hold on to this to distract you. In fact, keep it."

"Don't want to take it from you," Jeongin rammed it back in his direction.

"Really, keep it. I can always get another," Minho quirked an eyebrow as he enveloped Jeongin's hand and curled the latter's fingers around the concealer, "You can't."

The younger gave another wordless nod and let his gaze drop to his lap, fingers fidgeting to open the tube of concealer only to close it. And again. And again. Sometime after making the umpteenth accidental swatch of the make-up on the knuckle of his thumb, he muttered, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. This isn't your fault," The response came with a weak smile, and a semi reassuring pat on the shoulder.

The older found his spot leaning against the trunk of an adjacent car, arms crossing over his chest as his heels dug into the ground to keep from slipping. The other members of the crew weren't hang too far back either, either standing nearby or sitting on the floor close to Jeongin, as if they feared he would suddenly make a b-line towards the exit and never see him again. He began to wonder if it had less to do with a tempting exit, and more that they wouldn't see him again. But then; he had to remind himself that he didn't have the pleasure to think that way. Even with the distressing apprehension that settled over their heads- lurking in glances and fidgeting fingers- Jeongin shackled himself back down. He can't afford to think that way. His ears, quietly like a whisper, began to ring.

For the first time since Jeongin came to the Hub that night, Jisung broke their silence as he spoke to his hands. He kept his gaze trained in that location as he interrogated, "Changbin. Do you still carry that switchblade with you?"

The mentioned didn't respond for a few beats before parroting a hesitant 'yes'. Jisung stood from his spot on the floor,

"I think I'll cut out that snake's tongue."

Jeongin flinched, as if a jolt of electricity was volted through his limbs in a single instant, "No-!"

"Mother or not, she hurt a member of our crew and my friend," Jisung glowered, "How long will you keep defending her?"

"It's just... extreme."

"Extreme?" Jisung's head drifted up to Changbin, who nodded in agreement. The navy haired boy then snapped to Jeongin, frown pulling down at his lips as he strode closer, "You think that's extreme? I can tell you stories that can make your skin crawl if you want to hear extreme. Stories about me, about C-"