Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

③⑨ Train Tracks

Forewarning: Mentions of substance abuse in the second half of the chapter.

"Innie, come here," Jisung tugged on his arm, a certain sparkle dancing in his eyes that only a small child in a candy store would dare to posses, "I'm going to teach you to spit like a thug!"

"Can I pass?" Jeongin smiled politely at his friend, hands busy fiddling with the strings of Chan's hoodie as he watched his face fall from happiness to disappointment then bounce back up to an unprecedented annoyance that only reared it's ugly head when someone was excited to share an interest just to be shot down. Seeing as how everyone else in the shop was preoccupied, with the exception of Chan since he was hidden away in the office and Hyunjin who was collecting a delivery from outside, a small corner of his mind told him to be curious of what Jisung had to offer. That and the small bit of heartbreak that affected him upon turning him down. Jeongin kept the polite smile on his face, this time turning it to a grin more real as he pressed, "Actually, please do teach me."

"You won't regret it, this might come into handy one day. You kind of," His face twisted into a stare akin to a clueless fish and a horrible hacking noise that sounded similar to a dog choking on food rattled Jisung's throat and nostrils, "Do this..."

Hyunjin sauntered by, the unopened package that was delivered a few minutes ago balanced carefully in his hands. His face scrunched up when he saw the bit of drool on Jisung's chin, "That's barbaric."

Jisung skipped a proper response, eyebrows wiggling as he taunted, "Stay still so we can use you as a target."

"Troglodyte."

"Those are fighting words, tardigrade."

"Then fight me," Hyunjin grumbled at Jisung, eyes briefly shifting to Jeongin for a small but pleasant greeting before sharpening back to Jisung. Their staring contests would never end. Not at this rate, not if they were always so intense. Not in a good way either, more a 'I won't hesitate to kill you' intense. Just when Jeongin thought he'd have to step in or get the working Changbin to help, Hyunjin readjusted the package in his hands and continued on his original trajectory, "However please pardon me, I am obligated to deliver this package to Minho."

The comment came from Minho himself, the man lounging with his legs crossed in the center of the shop, "You're still at that?"

"Yes."

"...Okay," Minho shrugged it off, offering up an encouraging tone as Hyunjin placed the heavy box on the cement floors in front of him before sitting down on the other side. As if they were about to use the top of the box as a table for a tea party. Warily, Minho ran his fingers over the taped openings as he called, "Changbin, do you still have that knife?"

"My switchblade?" The mention corrected as he glanced up from the car engine he was half burried inside, he mentioned he was working on the spark plugs earlier but no one took too much time to acknowledge it. With a torque wrench in his hands, he threw a gesture to the coat sitting perched on top of the shop table, "Check in the top pocket of my coat, I usually put it there."

"Jeongin, can you grab it for us?"

The mentioned nodded as he bounced to the racer's coat on the table. He squished his hands against it for a few beats, trying to find the uncharacteristic weight in the top pocket before feeling it unlevel the tip of his fingers. Without much a thought, he fished out the mentioned switchblade the crew seemed to be obsessed over. For good reason too; judging from simply the ebony wood and sheet metal handle, it looked to be an object the racer kept clean and untouched. If it weren't for the repeated mention of it, the youngest would argue that it had been bought merely seconds before he had seen it himself.