Work Text:
A white dwarf is considered a dead star.
To be more precise; the atoms inside the stars commonly referred to as white dwarves don’t fuse anymore, don’t give them the energy they need to keep going. They’re white balls of mummified mass, only seen because they’re quite literally too hot to not be noticeable. People only see stars when they die because they burn too bright to not be seen; it’s a death on public display, an exhibition made of a spiral.
Hyunjin’s ignition burns.
His fuel tank is full. The crowd gathered roars and a checkered flag waves in the air. His foot is poised methodically- like a venomous snake ready to strike- and he’s got his hand on the gear stick like he’s ready to attack. He’s hot, on fire. If he wins, this will be his third in a row, and the others enrolling in the races will be hungry to tear him down.
(That’s exactly what he wants. People play dirty tricks in drag races. The best he can hope for is something so slick even he can’t catch it. At least a little road rage gone extreme would do. He’s too much of a coward to do it himself besides speed, he realizes. Adrenaline rushes are the farthest he can push himself. No farther than that.)
Hyunjin read somewhere that stars are alive. It was in an article, forever ago- something on some trash news site he usually would’ve scrolled past and might’ve clicked on out’ve curiosity. He’s not sure it matters now.
Chan waves the flag down, so harsh and sudden that Hyunjin’s sure some cars stuttered, fell behind just because they weren’t prepared- but he tears off immediately, not even blinking. If cared a little more he might’ve eased up on the gas pedal to begin with- he did, once upon a time. Now, it’s just a game he plays.
A race, yes. An adrenaline rush, absolutely.
A test, always. Hyunjin has recently been trying to see how far he can push himself.
Hyunjin feels alive.
No, that’s not it..
Hyunjin feels dead. He’s always felt like a dead man walking, and he knows he probably always will. But sometimes, the right overdose of adrenaline absolutely shocks his system, makes his skin vibrate and his heart pump blood to the point of true excitement and Hwang Hyunjin, for approximately two minutes and forty-two seconds, feels alive.
No, again, the wording is wrong.
Better articulation;
Hwang Hyunjin feels like he’s on fire.
Congratulatory donuts. Slam on the brake, emergency brake. Exhale. Burning.
Burning rubber, burning asphalt. Burning Hwang.
There’s a lot of cheers. Chan is on him in a minute, handing him a stack of cash, telling him he did good, this is the third night in a row he’s won. Hyunjin makes it clear to him every night he races that he doesn’t do it for the money, and every time, Chan ignores him. Part of him thinks Chan knows.
“Drinks on me!” Chan cheers, and Hyunjin decides it doesn’t matter if Chan knows why he decided to race again tonight. He can do with a couple of drinks.
“Yay,” He deadpans, because Chan’s slung an arm over him and dragged him off, barely giving him time to lock his car and tuck his keys away safely in his jacket pocket.
Another night he’s alive.
Another adrenaline rush, another race won.
Hyunjin should be happy.
Stars die because they run out of fuel.
They fuse random elements together to make heavier ones in their core until there’s nothing left. They gorge themselves on their surrounding surrounding environment; they take, they take, and they take until they’ve bled everything dry, and only then do they finally find it appropriate to die. Alone.
But first. They have to run out of fuel. They have to burn through everything in the nearby vicinity until they can’t reach for the nearest life-support, until they’re so withered and weak they’re unable to fuse; unable to breathe.
Unfortunately for Hyunjin, he just can’t seem to fizzle out.
✧
When two white dwarves are in the orbit of each other, the orbit starts to decay. Rapidly. Terrifyingly so. In a fucked sort of way, they balance each other out to the extreme until they finally merge.
Hyunjin is pulled into his match’s orbit unwillingly. He sees him at the following week’s event, the stranger’s arm wrapped around Chan, patting his back and laughing. The man is… weird, for lack of a better term. A sexy kind of weird. Sure. It’s the way he dresses, mostly. He laughs at something Chan says normally to a group of people, like Chan is the funniest man in the world- and really, nobody should fuel Chan’s ego that much- before pulling back, nodding his head towards the cars. He yells something like a normal person. Hyunjin’s not sure why he’s picking up weird vibes. He gestures with his thumb, nods his head, turns his body. He wants to check something out, that much is obvious. The racers. Their cars. Everyone does.
Hyunjin had only been able to see his head above a sea of others, watch ginger curls get pelted by a heavy breeze as he excitedly participated in a conversation too far for Hyunjin to hear. When the redhead’s right in front of him, Hyunjin’s just… stunned. Mildly intrigued, maybe. Really confused as to how one makes leather jorts and a lace red thong of a whale-tail work. It shouldn’t work. Jeongin makes it work. He burns brilliantly, and everyone notices it.
(Well, it’s also hard to not just notice him. The bright red lingerie and leather… jorts? Lorts? Paired with dirty work boots that Hyunjin questions how he got that dirty in the first place.)
He walks around with Chan, who gives him a tour of the cars. Red-thong smiles as he listens, nods along. Smudged makeup that looks like it hasn’t been washed off in days somehow enhances his features, allows Hyunjin to watch him from a distance.
They eventually stop in front of Hyunjin’s; a red 2005 Dodge Charger with minimal modifications. Minimal modifications only because the car worked fine for its intended purposes and Hyunjin didn’t want to break the bank upgrading something that was always five seconds away from getting trashed. His car was not his baby, contrary to other racers. It was a third space preventing him from slipping into stage two of a white dwarf’s life cycle;
Its collapsing.
“Nice car you got there,” Red-thong speaks first. Hyunjin’s so genuinely distracted by the rest of him that it takes him too long to respond, something which gets a laugh out of Chan- a social warning that Hyunjin’s silence has gone on too long.
“Thanks,” Hyunjin clears his throat, “It’s… it’s…” panties. “Red. Like your…” he gestures to the lace thong. What the fuck. Lorts- that’s what Hyunjin’s going to call him now, because red-thong is too distracting- furrows his brows then looks down. He lifts the bottom of his cropped leather vest- like he’d need to, because it doesn’t even come close to his hips- and laughs. Loudly.
“I don’t know why I said that,” Hyunjin says.
“No, that’s good,” Lorts (see; Leather Jorts) proudly smiles, pats his stomach and lets his fingers graze the lace of the underwear partially. Hyunjin’s throat is drying up, “That’s the exact effect I wanna have on somebody. I eat that shit up.”
“Oh,” Hyunjin’s eye twitches. He can’t tell if he finds the man annoyingly egotistical, or confident in a hot kind of way. He knows what he wants. He wants Hyunjin, apparently, because Hyunjin has shown interest. Hyunjin wants to die. Where the fuck do they go from here?
“You should watch him race,” Chan tells the man, patting his back again, hand gripping his shoulder, “Jinnie’s bleeding me dry for sport, I swear by it.”
“I tell you all the time to not pay me,” Hyunjin corrects softly. Because more money means more going through the motions. More gas, more rent, more groceries. More things he doesn’t really need nor want. He doesn’t know why his mind makes him stay alive when he has money in the bank, it just does, so he does.
“My Good Samaritan over here,” Chan rolls his eyes like something’s funny. His companion is staring right at Hyunjin.
“Right,” Hyunjin says, “I do it out of the kindness of my heart.” Not because I want to die.
Important distinction, or something.
“It starts soon,” Hyunjin says awkwardly, “The races. You might want to. You know. Get away from the cars?”
“Right,” The redhead nods and grins, winking at Hyunjin as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts and starts to walk off with Chan, “Guess I’ll be rooting for you, ghost.”
Ghost?
“Uh. Right,” Hyunjin lets himself hide behind his hair as he furrows his brows in confusion walking around to get into the drivers seat. Some other people try to talk to him, but he doesn’t even bother to try and politely decline attempts at conversation. He’s too tired. For all of it- he’s just too tired. He doesn’t even want to get behind the wheel, but he knows as soon as he does it’ll be the most alive he’s ever felt.
Then, he’s buckled in.
Once, he used to find comfort in the red and black leather seats just by themselves. Now, he has to do a small ritual of sorts to get even close to some semblance of relief.
First, ignition. But the car was already running. Second, the sign of the cross, because what he’s about to do is stupid- and he was never really a believer in God, but it feels like a specific sort of intimate way of saying I’m sorry. He wouldn’t know what he’s saying sorry to, though.
Third, a glance at the frames of his mirrors- not the mirrors themselves, because he hates looking in them until he’s actually driving. Especially if he catches a glimpse of himself. He always looks awful. Sunken. Dead to the world and everybody in it.
Fourth, both hands on the wheel he’ll crack his knuckles and-
-the passenger’s side door opens and slams closed so quickly that Hyunjin doesn’t even react to the presence of another person in his car at first. In fact, the first words out of his mouth in response to whoever just got in, is;
“Don’t slam my fucking car doors,” an irritated snap, because the rituals been broken.
“Sorry,” Ginger. Red thong. Hideous leather pants, “Hi.”
“No,” Hyunjin says, “Get out.”
“But I wanna see you race.” The man frowns, “It’s not fun if you’re not doing it from the front seat.”
Hyunjin’s a stupid man, and if Jeongin comes with him, the probability of him getting an injury increases tenfold.
“You’re unbearable,” Hyunjin says, now turning to face Chan’s strange friend, “I don’t like you. Where’d you come from?”
“You just met me,” Red thong gawks, laughing at Hyunjin’s sudden hostility, “Is it because I got in your car?” He’s clearly amused by the sudden switch up, smirking. White dwarf.
Rotten, rotten gravitational pull.
“Yes,” Hyunjin exhales, rolling his shoulders back. Maybe he did come off a bit too strongly, “but you should really get out of my car. You can watch the race from Chan’s box.”
“But I don’t wanna,” The man purses his lips, “I like the rush anyway. Pretty, pretty please?” He bats his eyelashes, but he’s grinning- like the action is unfamiliar to him and he does it in a joking manner. He doesn’t seem to take life very seriously.
“Do you want to die?” Hyunjin holds the bridge of his nose, exhaling.
“…Yes,” The red-head answers him like it was obvious. Like he’d given Hyunjin every sign in the handbook that he was suicidal.
Right.
Okay.
Maybe Hyunjin shouldn’t be behind the wheel tonight. He shouldn’t be most nights, but still.
“What’s your name?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, clearing his throat. He still has one hand on the wheel because the race starts soon, but he hasn’t kicked the other out of his car just yet.
“Yang Jeongin,” Jeongin holds out his hand, “I want to die. Or maybe I just think life isn’t worth all that. Don’t know yet. Kind of sick and tired of the indecision, to be honest. Maybe being in a drag racer’s car will do me some good.”
Two white dwarves caught in an inescapable gravitational pull. Hyunjin feels it now. Does Jeongin?
He takes Jeongin’s hand, shaking it slowly, “Hwang Hyunjin. I think you’re stupid for getting in my car.”
Jeongin laughs, “and why’s that?”
“I keep winning because I’m trying to die,” he blurts out. He’s not sure why he’s telling a stranger this, “-and it keeps not fucking working. So I get to live another day with enough cash to buy a pretty new watch and a burger.”
Jeongin laughs, drumming his dash again. He doesn’t seem disturbed by Hyunjin’s lack of reverence for life- no, rather, he looks visibly relieved. Hyunjin watches him un-tense, roll his shoulders back, grin like he’s crazy.
“What’s your name?” He asks.
“Hwang Hyunjin,” Hyunjin says, and then, “-you called me ‘ghost’, why?”
Jeongin shrugs, “Everybody’s been calling you the ghost. You’ve got talent, but you’re a danger. Reckless. You look like a zombie outside of your car but you’re hot on wheels.” He gestures to Hyunjin, “You’re so fast they don’t even see you; the ghost.”
The ghost. How ironic. A dead man on wheels.
Hyunjin holds his breath. His eyes widen and he resists their urge to twitch.
Yang Jeongin wants to die just as much as Hyunjin. Maybe moreso. Hyunjin’s not quite sure how he got in his car in the first place- nobody except for the driver is supposed to be in the racing cars. Hyunjin can’t tell if Chan didn’t notice or just didn’t care. Jeongin drums his fingers against Hyunjin’s dash and hums, squinting into the darkness.
“You’ve won all the races so far,” He says, “Why is that?”
“Because nobody else is racing like a fucking idiot,” Hyunjin says, “You’re stupid for getting in my car.” A repeat of his earlier sentiment; a warning.
“I figured,” Jeongin flashes him a grin, “but I felt I'd be stupid if I didn’t. Couldn’t figure out which stupid was worse.”
White dwarves. Gravitational pull.
“So, Hwang Hyunjin, my new favorite suicide driver,” Jeongin grins again, leans forward against the dashboard like he’s trying to sell the idea of himself to Hyunjin. Pretty red thong and hideous leather jorts. A back dip that’s questionably worth living for, “I’m Yang Jeongin and my life isn’t worth living much. Let me be in your car. Pretty please?”
He bats his eyelashes again. It’s unfitting of him. Hyunjin’s endeared.
“Fucking-” A sigh, “Fine. Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Hell yeah!” He slaps Hyunjin’s dashboard one final time before pulling away, “This fuckin’ rules, man.”
“-and never do that again,” Hyunjin can feel his eye start to involuntarily twitch.
“-Sir, yes sir!” Jeongin salutes, Hyunjin sighs a deep sigh. This might be one of the longest races he’s ever driven.
(It’s not until Chan sees Jeongin in his car, panickedly yells at Jeongin to get out while he laughs, that Hyunjin properly understands how little he cares for his life. That’s fine. Hyunjin doesn’t either.
The race is fine. Hyunjin speeds off in first place like he usually does, nearly swerves off the track. Jeongin cackles like a madman and Hyunjin thinks he might’ve met his match. It’s not until they’re past the finish line that he momentarily loses control of the car, overturning as they spiral. Hyunjin would usually let the car just go, but they’re near people so he tries, just a little. There’s a pause between the two- a moment of silence if you will. Then, it’s Hyunjin’s turn to laugh, giggles bubbling out of his chest. Jeongin joins him, slowly, covering his mouth- both clearly riding an adrenaline high. Stupid, they’re both so stupid.)
✧
The next time they meet, Jeongin gets straight to the point;
“I think we should jump in front of a train.”
Hyunjin’s too quick to agree, “Okay.”
(They converse about possibly dying the way one would the weather- it’s fine by the way. A bit cold, but it’ll do- do you feel like dying more than usual today, Jeongin? That’s perfect, because the train tracks are in use, and we could use a little walk.)
“Missed ya,” Jeongin grins, walking with Hyunjin along the tracks, gravel crunching beneath their feet. Today he wears regular hideous jean-shorts, thank God- but he pairs it with a baby blue lace thong instead of a red one, whale-tail just as attractively out of place as it was last time. He’s got fucked timberlands on that look like they’re on their last leg, and a cropped sweater that exposes his midriff.
“Aw, really?” Hyunjin puckers his lips, but keeps his distance. They can’t spiral too hard, they’ll collide. Implode. They need to make this simple. Short. To the point. They’re going to kill themselves. They happen to be doing it together. End of story.
“Like an adrenaline rush.”
“Awful pun,” Hyunjin scrunches his nose, “Try again.”
“Don’t need to,” Jeongin laughs, “We’re here, man.”
Train tracks. Right.
“Trains always look like they’re going so slow,” Hyunjin comments, “I mean- unless you’re watching them head straight for you. Then they don’t.”
“It’s the perception of time from your point in space. Part of the theory that led to time being the fourth dimension, or whatever.” Jeongin shrugs.
Hyunjin stares at him, “What?”
“Like, it’ll look fast to you if you’re right next to the train,” Jeongin shrugs, “To the people on the train you’ll be barely moving. If you were watching the train from…” He looks around, squinting in the dark, “That mountain over there, it’d look slow as fuck for a train.”
“Oh…” Hyunjin stares at him. Then, before he can stop himself, “Why do you want to die?”
Jeongin laughs abruptly, blinking, “Hey, what the fuck?”
“Sorry,” Hyunjin clears his throat, “Guess it doesn’t matter now, huh?” They can feel the rumble first before they hear the train. As if on cue, they can see it turn up the mountainside in the distance.
“Guess not,” Jeongin grins, turning to face the train. He’s one track behind Hyunjin, hands ghosting Hyunjin’s hips. Hyunjin leans into his touch, a comforting suicidal hand holding. A, hey, you’re going to die- but I will too. Why don’t we do it together, yeah?
“I like hugs,” Hyunjin noted.
“Is that so?” Headlights are on them now. Bright and blaring. Hyunjin inhales sharply as he closes his eyes, wincing. He doesn’t know if Jeongin does the same.
“I’d tell you, we just don’t have enough time,” Jeongin says, “A shame. Why do you want to die?”
“I’d tell you,” Hyunjin lazily grins, “We just don’t have enough time, hm?”
“Hmm,” Hyunjin’s hair gets blown in both their faces, and the sound of a train’s movement and engine running absolutely deafens them. Jeongin yells something. Pats his waist.
Hyunjin shouts back a disgruntled okay, because he can’t hear him and he’d like a moment of silence.
Then-
-
-Then.
Then they’re tumbling down the side of the hill, asphalt and dirt and sticks getting trapped in between them, in between their clothes as Hyunjin tries to push Jeongin off of him. It’s not until they’re at the base of the hill that he’s semi-successful, hand to Jeongin’s jaw, pushing upwards.
“What the fuck, man!?”
“You said okay!” Jeongin defends himself, groaning as Hyunjin full body slams him right into the dirt.
“What!? Hyunjin shouts.
“I said tell me after and you said sure!” Jeongin chokes on air as he tries to catch his breath.
“Hey, fuck you!” Hyunjin’s violent, prepared to push Jeongin right onto the tracks if necessary, “You tricked me, that doesn’t- doesn’t-“
He watches the train go by, pass like they’re insignificant- without him splattered and splayed across the front. Missed opportunity. Fuck.
(White dwarves colliding.)
“You fucker. I fucking hate you,” Hyunjin presses his finger to Jeongin’s chest, but all the anger is gone. He’s just… upset his plans have been ruined.
“That’s fine,” Jeongin doesn’t believe him, “Wanna eat while you tell me why you wanna die?”
“You wouldn’t be bored or hungry if we were both guts on the train tracks.”
“Touche.”
“…” Hyunjin exhales, holding the bridge of his nose, “Do not talk to me. We’re getting fried chicken.”
“Sir, yes sir!” Jeongin salutes, then pauses, “Ah, man, sorry.” Another wince as Hyunjin glares at him. He mimics zipping his lips closed and follows Hyunjin back to his car.
✧
“So you first,” Hyunjin says. Jeongin immediately whines.
“Whyyyy!?” He asks, “Why me?”
“Because I’m feeling mean and buying you chicken and soju,” They’re parked on the mountain side, sitting in Hyunjin’s car while it runs to provide some sort of air conditioning, his own greasy fingers becoming an obstacle as he tries to not touch anything. He doesn’t know how Jeongin manages it, tearing into hot chicken and licking off his fingers like it’s nothing.
“Everything’s a chore,” Jeongin says, “I get weird about things. Too weird. I hate being around a lot of people most of the time, unless I do it on purpose to overwhelm myself. I hate being barefoot. And my brothers. My brothers hate me, though, that one’s mutual.”
Hyunjin laughs at the abrupt switch up of his sentiment, eyebrows furrowing together.
“Nothing therapy could fix?”
“I’d have to be able to afford therapy,” Jeongin closes his eyes, “Or want to talk about it. I don’t want to, because it makes me think about it- and fuck is thinking a chore. I hate how people have friends, I’m a jealous motherfucker.”
“You look fine to me,” Hyunjin bites into his chicken, and then, with his mouth covered, “Why do you not have friends?”
“I told you, I’m weird about things,” Jeongin loops back to his previous sentiment, takes a swig of his soju, “Keeping up a friendship is a chore. Calling my mother is a chore. And then I get all mad about it like some sort of dumbass. And then I get all jealous because people have good relationships with their families.”
Hyunjin snorts, rolls his eyes, “So you keep… mentally jackknifing yourself. Got it.”
“Guess so,” Jeongin exhales, “Every decision I make is a stupid one. Every stupid decision is a punch to the gut. Got any cigs?”
Hyunjin adjusts to the abruptness, again- learning that’s just how Jeongin talks when he’s not in a good mood- and watches the way he shifts around in his seat, like he’s resisting the urge to do something.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin pulls a bent pack from his pocket and stares at it with an empty look. Half-assed destruction- something he seems to be particularly good at.
“Some might be broken. All of them are fucked.”
“Don’t care,” Jeongin laughs, rolling his eyes, “It’s a short smoke break then, so what?” He wipes his hand on a napkin and opens the car door to leave it for a moment, fishing for a lighter in his egregiously large pants pockets. Shorts pockets. Hyunjin hates his loser fashion so much.
He wiped his hands before he touched Hyunjin’s car door. The door of his red, ’05 Dodge Charger he purposefully hasn’t updated or made any mods to in case he crashes the fucking thing.
What an idiot.
Hyunjin rolls down the window, and Jeongin automatically lowers his upper body to lean against the windowsill, inhaling before moving the stick away from his mouth. Blowing out smoke before he pokes his head in.
“What.”
“’s anything a chore right now?” Hyunjin asks. He’s not sure why he asks, he doesn’t care.
Jeongin laughs, covers his face with his free hand and smiles- it looks loopy, like the smile someone gives you after their teeth get pulled out.
“Breathing’s a chore right now. Fuck, man.”
✧
“I don’t really give a shit about my car,” Hyunjin admits, “I think it’s just a me thing, to not be able to crash it. Which is crazy, ‘cause that means I care about something. I’m usually numb to the whole experience.”
It’s the next day, they meet again. Chan gave them worried looks at the races and asked if they were okay. Hyunjin asked him what the fuck he was talking about, because he doesn’t tell anyone about why he gets up to the shit that he does. Jeongin told him to fuck off or buy them drinks, so Chan bought them drinks. Jeongin told him to fuck off again anyway.
Hyunjin should keep Jeongin around. He likes someone that can ward Chan off.
“Numb to the whole experience,” Jeongin repeats, clicking his tongue, “The fuck’s that mean?”
“I just don’t care,” No better way to put it, “About anything. I don’t know what my family’s doing, and I couldn’t care less about it. I don’t have friends because I don’t give a shit- minus Chan, but he weeds his way into everybody’s lives. It’s so fucking annoying.”
Jeongin laughs, “It is,” he agrees.
“I win money and it just goes to a rent I only pay because I need a home address for most things, and a bed to sleep on. Beyond that, I’d probably stick to my stupid car.”
“You speed in this car.”
“Who cares.”
“You could get towed easily. License revoked.”
“I’m not above driving illegally.”
“You’re insane.”
“We’re circling back to I literally don’t fucking care.” Hyunjin glares, Jeongin laughs.
“Maybe you just need to lose control of your car,” Jeongin suggests.
“I’m too good of a driver for that,” Hyunjin clicks his tongue, “Unfortunately.”
“Let’s play a game of target practice,” Jeongin says with a grin. He’s unlocking his seatbelt and climbing out of the passenger’s seat before Hyunjin can even properly react, ask him what the fuck are you on about?
-and then, Jeongin walks a bit away from the car, in the middle of the road. Dangerous. A brilliant white dwarf refusing to fizzle out.
“Target practice!” Jeongin shouts, “Hit me with your car or lose control trying not to! ’S up to you!”
Hyunjin stares at him, because he’s fucking crazy. Then, he rolls down his windows, “You’re fucking crazy!”
“I’m smart and suicidal! One of us dies in the process!”
“No,” Hyunjin disagrees, “Just suicidal! This is fucking stupid!”
“Just hit me with your damn car!”
Right.
Hyunjin grips the wheel until his knuckles turn white. He needs to get angry about something. He’s starting to get that rush, and he’s not even properly driving yet. Fuck. Okay. Anger, anger, anger…
Jeongin’s hideous neon green lace today. Hyunjin doesn’t get it. It’s like he wears awful outfits to piss Hyunjin off. Hyunjin’s never seen jorts and lace in his life, and now he’s seen it consecutively, three days in a row. And the red and black striped top- god. It made no sense. Jeongin looks like an emo Christmas tree.
“Hit me with your car!” Emo Christmas tree whines.
“Hold on! I’m working myself up to it!” Hyunjin calls. If he thinks about this, technically it’s murder. Manslaughter. Whatever. Maybe he should stop thinking about this too hard.
Finally, he presses down on the gas pedal. Picks up speed frightening quickly. He hates how frighteningly respectful Jeongin is of the vehicle Hyunjin plans on dying in. He hates how that motherfucker ruined their first plans to die together, when he pushed Hyunjin aside just so they could talk longer. What an asshole. What an asshole, what an-
He gets so frighteningly close to Jeongin that he almost thinks the instinctive swerve he makes is pointless. He might’ve hit him anyway. Fuck, fuck-
-Hyunjin loses control of his car, but thankfully, he regains control right before he nearly crashes straight into a tree. Burning rubber and a loud SCREECH all overwhelms him, senses muffled as he can’t focus on anything else.
Park, emergency brake.
Burning rubber- fuck burning rubber.
He opens his door and slams it closed.
“Fuck me,” Jeongin says, exhaling covering his face, “Now none of us are dead.”
“Fuck you,” Hyunjin snaps, exhaling, “I missed you. I- missed you."
He’s walking towards Jeongin in hurried steps, pace unkempt. He’s sweaty, desperate, panicked. Trembling. Anxious. He’s never anxious.
Jeongin could’ve died.
Stupid thought. Hyunjin is so stupid. Fizzling out. He’s-
“With your whole car,” Jeongin snaps, “Didn’t know drivers had bad aim.”
“I don’t mind having bad aim if it means I missed,” Hyunjin reaches out for him first, wrapping his arms around him. Jeongin seems shocked at first, tensing up, hesitating. Hyunjin’s tears wet his shirt and he returns the hug in kind- out of panic probably. Good. He deserves to panic. He told Hyunjin to hit him with his car. And Hyunjin almost went through with it.
Jeongin’s hands trail up and cup Hyunjin’s face, makes him look right at him.
“You still missed,” Jeongin sounds angry, looks angry, but he’s trembling too, “Chicken shit. Too chicken shit to even hit me with your car apparently.”
“Sorry, I’m a bad driver,” A lie. Then, on the verge of tears, “God, I’m so glad I missed you,” A confusing truth.
“Shut up,” Jeongin’s own eyes are welling now- and Hyunjin knows that Jeongin hates it when people see him cry- even though he’s an easy crier. Maybe that’s why he kisses Hyunjin. White dwarfs colliding. Dead stars reignited. The pressure grounds Hyunjin back to reality, and the reality of it all sends him spiraling. Jeongin could’ve died. Jeongin’s kissing him.
“Don’t make me do that again,” Hyunjin mumbles into him. Jeongin wears a bright neon green thong and has the worst case of chapped lips known to man. He kisses like he’s trying to memorize Hyunjin. God, Hyunjin hates him.
“Hm?” They pull away and Jeongin laughs wetly, wiping away a tear on Hyunjin’s cheek with his thumb.
“I’m serious,” Hyunjin sniffs, “Either we both die, or neither of us die. I’m not doing that again.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeongin buries his head in the crevice of Hyunjin’s neck, holding him tightly- like he’s the one who nearly got run over with a car, “I won’t do it again. I don’t know what I was thinking, you’re right. That was objectively crazy.”
“Okay,” Hyunjin sniffs, wipes tears away, “Okay. I- fuck, Jeongin, fuck.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in his tone.
Jeongin can only pull back and give him a sheepish smile, “You lied. Fucker.”
“…What?” Hyunjin blinks at him owlishly. Sniffs, wipes tears away.
“About caring,” Jeongin says, “You care about something. At least now you do. Sorry that it’s me. I’m awful at that shit.”
“That’s fine,” Hyunjin says, pulling him back into a hug. A tight hug, because Hyunjin almost killed him with his fucking car, “It’ll pass. It’s only been a few days. Maybe it was adrenaline.”
White dwarfs colliding.
Dead stars reignited.
They both know he’s lying.
That’s okay.
✧
When the two dead, spiraling, burning stars finally reach the end of their decaying orbits that will inevitably collide- there’s a moment of pressure. It comes in layers, waves- and because they’re so hot it’s like nothing they’ve ever felt before. The dead stars push against each other, and push, and push- until finally…
…they explode.
“Either we both die, or neither of us die,” Hyunjin repeats his earlier sentiment.
“Your rule,” Jeongin nods, arms crossed as he sits back in Hyunjin’s passenger seat.
“Tomorrow,” He says, “Let’s crash my car.”
Jeongin pauses, glances at him hesitantly.
“You’re sure?” He asks, hesitantly. Like he doesn’t want to go through with it anymore. Dying. Killing themselves.
“I’m sure,” Hyunjin retorts, “Don’t jackknife yourself on me now.”
“I’m not,” Jeongin’s quick to defend himself, “I’m not, I promise.”
“Good.”
“Okay.”
There’s a brief moment, right before that explosion, where everything seems to slow. The white dwarves reach the end of their gravitational pull, but aren’t quite colliding yet. A fucked up equilibrium; a balancing out after a long, awful downwards decline.
“But tonight,” Hyunjin exhales, “Let’s just get dinner.”
“Okay.” Jeongin nods. He doesn’t drum his fingers against the dash, or grin, or push Hyunjin a little- he just nods.
“Okay.” Hyunjin pulls out from where they were parked, drives back to the fried chicken place where they first got food together, not even two days prior.
He makes Jeongin pay, as a way of penance for Jeongin’s stupid idea. It’s the first time Jeongin laughs that night.
(“Do you think, if you let yourself breathe a little longer than you were comfortable-“ Hyunjin starts, setting the bone of the last leg down on his plate, “-the weird would wear off? The chore would become…” He pauses, “A hobby, or something.”
“A hobby,” Jeongin laughs, “That’s a weird way to describe a friendship.”
“You’re avoiding my question, asshole,” Hyunjin grumbles.
“I tried it out, two nights ago,” Jeongin answers, “And then it felt so weird that I tried to get my hobby to hit me with his car. What do you think?”
Right. Okay.
“I’m a shit hobby to have,” Hyunjin deflects, “I tend to ditch people in situations like these.”
“You’re shit at not caring,” Jeongin retorts, “I don’t think you’ll ditch me.”
He hates Jeongin and his stupid hot pink bikini thong and American flag denim jorts. Where the fuck did he even get those? This is Korea.)
✧
Hyunjin’s an idiot.
He’s an idiot, because he said, Tomorrow, Let’s crash my car, yesterday. He’s an idiot because they’re in his car, to crash it, to die- and he’s deciding he doesn’t want them to do that.
He’s an idiot. Idiot white dwarf, applying pressure to his companion star. Idiot white dwarf, imploding. Exploding.
Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.
He doesn’t talk to Jeongin, not this time. If he does he might back out completely. They’re going to die, per both their requests.
He goes slower than he normally would. Still speeding abnormally fast, but he’s in control of the car. They wind through the narrow mountain highway at terrifying rates, just barely not falling off the edge. Jeongin knows he’s in control of the car. He knows he’s not going as fast as he could be. He says nothing.
In fact, he turns on the radio and turns up the music- some rock station Hyunjin’s never bothered to listen to.
The silence is deafening- and at the same time it’s almost calm. Every turn on a sharp curve gone slightly too far gives them a small jolt of energy, causes Jeongin to hold onto his seat like his life depends on it.
Hyunjin doesn’t crash his car until they’re at the bottom of the mountain, because he’s a stupid man trying to avoid certain death.
Funny, how that works out.
Jeongin shouts something, he shouts back the beginning of ‘I can’t hear you!’ Because he’s learned his lesson from just ‘okay!’. He sees visible panic on Jeongin’s face for the first time, something so jarring that Hyunjin fully looks away from the wheel.
Fuck
-Idiot.
White dwarf imploding.
He just went boom.
✧
It’s cold.
It’s so cold.
...and Hyunjin is definitely not sitting upright.
It takes him a moment to figure out what's going on, head pounding- hot sharp pains harshly contradict numbing cold that flushes throughout his body. He’s sweating a lot, Jesus Christ.
It takes him a moment to fully open his eyes- fuck! Everything’s so difficult to move, and his head hurts. Eyes heavy lidded, all he can make out is the night sky and asphalt. A tree maybe. Red. Hot red.
Burning red.
Fuck. Fuck. Fire.
Panic hits him like a train, adrenaline truly hitting him. Fuck, fuck- it wasn’t close enough to be lethal yet, but-
He’s twisted his leg. Fuck, okay.
He’s twisted his leg, and he can barely see his surroundings- and his head is throbbing and there’s something else that’s so bad and wrong and fucked but he can’t figure it out, because his leg is stuck and he’s panicking.
Like a dumbass, he tries to stand. He’s still buckled in. Right. His seatbelt is so constricting it might actually crush a rib. Might’ve crushed a rib. Fuck, who knows? Why can he see so much road? So much sky?
Ah. Car door a few feet from him. Windshield completely obliterated. Head hurts. Okay.
His seatbelt is the only thing keeping him from falling- the car is turned over. God, he’s stupid, so stupid. Jeongin- Jeongin-!
“Jeongin!?” God, speaking hurt too. Okay, seatbelt off. He struggles with it, fingers trembling as he practically starts to beat up the damned thing, belt getting tighter with every failed effort. It’s at this point the adrenaline starts to leave his body, and pain becomes a grounding force, a survival tactic and drugging agent all at once. His head throbs and he can barely breathe. Barely move. But he can feel the heat like it’s in his own face now, and where’s- ?
“Hyunjin!?” A panicked yell. Distant. Good. Okay, “Hyunjin-! Fuck!”
“I’m okay!” Hyunjin yells before he can register what he’s saying, “I’m fine. Don’t- fuck, don’t come over here. It looks a lot worse than it is…!”
He’s lying. It feels so fucking bad right now. Glass was scattered in and outside the car- he’s sure tiny pieces are lodged into himself, and it only works to make this entire experience that much more difficult, because fuck, he’s an idiot. He’s never thought about what would happen if he didn’t die. He goes at insane speeds usually to try and avoid this exact thing.
He slowed down for Jeongin.
Idiot. Stupid. White dwarf spiraling. Imploding. Exploding. Fuck.
He finally unclasps it- only for gravity to immediately work its magic. He just barely manages to cover his head and prevent an already-bad concussion from becoming significantly worse as he lands on the glass-covered roof of his car.
“Fuck-!” He gasps, “Fuck me,” He only seems to be able to think and say one word right now.
His vision’s blurring, but he pushes through anyway, holding onto the bent frame of what used to be the car door, using it as leverage to pull himself out. Gasping in pain, breathing heavy. Warm liquid coats his fingertips as he pulls himself out- but he’s pulling himself out.
“Oh, fuck me…” A desperate grumble as he tries to make a joke out of an awful situation. His leg burns, and he’s unsure how he’s able to push through all of this pain. Shock, maybe. He’s bleeding a lot. Well, maybe not. Maybe a lot. He doesn’t know, his head hurts. He bleeds enough for it to hurt, and to get cold and sweaty.
He can hear flames crackling now, fuck him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Out of all the ways to go out, this would actually be a pretty shitty one.
Before he can do anything else, he’s being violently dragged against the asphalt, pulled away from the crash. He’s pretty sure his shoulder dislodges itself. Fun. Future Hyunjin’s issue.
Jeongin’s voice is muffled, but Hyunjin can make out a slur of panicked curse words as he tries to get Hyunjin standing- something Hyunjin’s barely able to manage, but he can manage it- hand to torso applying pressure as he blinks his eyes open.
Jeongin’s a bit farther from him now, Hyunjin can’t see why. He’s yelling something, Hyunjin’s not particularly sure he cares. He’s fixated on the fire now rapidly spreading. Crazy, he was so crazy and stupid for this.
The car is burning. His red 2005 Dodge Charger is on fire, about to explode.
Is it crazy and stupid of Hyunjin to say that he’s sad to see it go?
He’s too close to it. To the fire. It burns and spreads and as soon as it reaches that gas tank-
-BOOM!
Before Hyunjin can react to any one thing, he’s thrown against the asphalt. His limbs are nothing more but propellers of weight throwing him around like he’s a rag doll, letting him hit the street with a thud. There’s an added weight, on top of him, and he’s not dead- for a moment, panic strikes, and he’s prepared for the worst. He could be bleeding. He is bleeding. Shock could’ve kicked in and he could be-
“-You fucking idiot!” Jeongin.
Hyunjin tries to focus his vision, tries to grasp onto any sort of tangible piece of sky, or tree, or flame, or Jeongin that his eyes will let him. He’s stuck on the ground, gasping for air like a gaping fish, coughing and sputtering up words that don’t make any sort of real substantial sense. Jeongin’s cradling his head in his hands, and they’re both shaking and-
“Hyunjin, Hyunjin,” Jeongin sounds so panicked. So bothered by Hyunjin’s almost death. Isn’t that the whole point?
White dwarf. Rotting star. Unmoving atoms. All spiraling towards a certain death.
Why does the entire concept suddenly feel disingenuous to Hyunjin?
He gasps, tries to say, I’m sorry. Because he is sorry, for scaring Jeongin. He’s sorry that Jeongin ever got in his car that first night they met. He’s sorry he’s grown attached to the point of wishing neither of them ever tried any attempt in the first place, or the second, or the third- he’s sorry he almost went through with every single one of Jeongin’s stupid request, and his own stupid attempts. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry-
Instead, all he can muster is a laugh. An abrupt, and loud one. He laughs maniacally, right in Jeongin’s face, who’s still cradling his own in his hands. He can’t tell if Jeongin’s pissed, or confused, or still worried. He’s not sure he cares, because Jeongin’s alive.
“Fuck me,” Jeongin groans, or maybe sobs- Hyunjin can’t tell, he’s really blurry- into Hyunjin’s shoulder. Buries his whole head in Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s a rag doll in his arms, it really hurts to think.
“I think I love you.” He says. It hurts to speak too.
“I think you’re fucking concussed,” Jeongin says, cradling in Hyunjin’s upper body in his arms. They’re sitting up now- when did they get into this position?
“Yeah,” Hyunjin blinks, “I think so too. I love you.”
“Okay,” Jeongin exhales, “Okay- fuck me, Hyunjin, you could’ve died. You could’ve fucking died and-“ and?
Wasn’t that the whole point?
Hyunjin doesn’t know what he’d do if Jeongin died. Maybe they should stop. They’re really bad at trying to die anyway.
Jeongin laughs shakily, exhaling as he tries to wipe away tears, “Yeah, fuck, yeah, you’re right.”
Hyunjin said that out loud? God his head hurts.
“Have I said I love you?” He asks, “I need to say it now, before I forget. Fuck, it’s so important Jeongin.” His tongue is heavy and his words are discombobulated- he talks too slow and too fast all at once, but he needs Jeongin to know. I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry you ever got in my car. I’m sorry I’ve gotten so attached- and fuck, I’m sorry we kept trying to follow through on these attempts-
“I think we need to get you to a hospital,” Jeongin says very seriously, “I love you too. I’ll say it again when you can remember it.
“You can drive?” Hyunjin asks, then, after a pause- God, his head hurts so fucking badly- “-Jeongin?”
“Yes?”
“I think I have a concussion.”
Jeongin exhales and chuckles, furrowing his brows, “Fuck me. Yes, yes you do. C’mon, let’s get up.”
Okay.
“Okay.”
Two white dwarves colliding. Atoms reignited, pressure so jarring it throws them for a loop.
Hyunjin feels alive again. Truly and properly alive.
He doesn’t remember this feeling at all.
✧
When those white dwarfs explode- when they finally release the ball of energy that’d been suddenly ignited; they create a supernova. It’s a beautiful expanse of gasses and elements previously bound. It’s colorful, monstrous, and… in terms of space, a paradoxically tiny, insignificant, temporary painting depicting what once was. The aftermath of death the size of a galaxy.
Sometimes, even new stars form.
Hyunjin doesn’t race anymore. His charger’s been replaced with a ’95 Chevrolet Corvette- still sleek in body, but really just something for Hyunjin to pass the time in. Do menial shit like get groceries.
He gets groceries on a regular basis now. For two instead of one.
Right now, he carries them back to an apartment he and Jeongin both impulsively purchased during their second month together, after Hyunjin had mostly healed from his concussion and was allowed to make responsible decisions.
He was never really one to do that anyway.
(When he was in the hospital, Jeongin had said, I love you too. Hyunjin remembers it now. He also remembers his embarrassing response, to which he’d looked at Jeongin like he was fucking crazy- because to be fair, sometimes, he is- and asked, “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”
Jeongin raised his eyebrows and laughed while he let Hyunjin’s own words sink in. Right. Concussion. He said, too, which means Hyunjin said it first.
“You told me every day for a week straight,” Jeongin countered, “-and three times on the night of the crash. I told you I’d say it back when you’d remember. Do you think you’ll remember it now?”
That.. sounds like something a concussed Hyunjin would do. They’d known each other less than a week, and he declared his love for Jeongin. Shit, that sounds like something a not-concussed Hyunjin would do.
“Yes,” Hyunjin had tapped the side of his skull, ignoring the dull ache, “because I love you too. I’ll keep saying it even if I remember.”)
“Honey!” He declares loudly upon opening the door of their new apartment, holding up grocery bags, “I’m home!”
“You’re home!” He can hear Jeongin cheer- muffled- from their bedroom, before he finally comes out. He hugs Hyunjin first, tightly- then takes the grocery bags from him, “Fuck yeah, you’re home with frozen pizza! Dude.”
“Dude,” Hyunjin mimics, following Jeongin into the kitchen, “I’m too lazy to try and follow any one YouTube recipe tonight.”
“Of course,” Jeongin nods, a small smile gracing his lips as he unpacks the groceries. He takes great pride in caring for Hyunjin, the ex-racer has noticed. Hyunjin thinks he’d genuinely sew them together if he could, just so that he’d never have to leave his side. Hyunjin’s considered it himself.
Case in point;
Now, he wraps his arms around Jeongin’s waist, waddles with him while Jeongin moves around the kitchen. He’s insufferable right now, feeding off of any ounce of contact he can get. Jeongin usually hates physical affection, but not from Hyunjin. Never from Hyunjin, who clings onto him like he’s his lifeline. Because a month ago he was. Arguably, he still is.
“You’re so touchy,” Jeongin says, “I hate it. I hate you. Let go of me.” He dramatically leans into Hyunjin while he opens the fridge to put milk away.
“No,” Hyunjin whines, “Liar. You’re a lying liar who lies.” Then a pause, as he looks down to the abomination on Jeongin’s lower half, “…Are those fucking pajama jorts?”
“No,” Jeongin says smugly. Proudly, “That’s a paradox, nobody sleeps in jeans. These are my ports.”
“I’m not calling them that,” Hyunjin deadpans. Ports. He should walk back out that front door.
It gets a giggle out of Jeongin. Hyunjin likes making him laugh- properly laugh. There’s less of the panicked, nervous laughter. The stressed chuckles when he’s having a bad day.
There’s less bad days. Hyunjin doesn’t remember what a month ago feels like. Hyunjin doesn’t remember what it’s like to get behind the wheel and immediately want to drive off a cliff. His body might, a little bit, but he doesn’t.
A supernova fades, eventually. The brilliant colors slowly disappear, new stars are left on their own, and space returns to how it once was- like it was never even touched by two dead stars in the first place. There’s a hole where they used to suffer, but it’s space for plenty more stars to replace them. For growth.
“I love you,” Hyunjin says, because he’s said it every day now, since he’s fully recovered. Even if he can remember.
“I love you too baby,” A peck to Hyunjin’s forehead, because he’s being insufferably clingy.
The impulse dies out. The anger, the irritation. The stupidity that permeated Hyunjin’s every thought.
Two dead stars collide…
…and in their wake, they birth a new one.
A new star unwilling to fizzle out.