Roller Coaster

I was aware of how little time I had left before the junkie would get impatient, so I got some clothes out quickly and carefully from our shared room. Relieved to hear my grandma snoring on my way out.

She was not a light sleeper, but it all depended on how close the sound was and not how loud it was. Right next to her bed? Wide awake and panicked. Smashed a plate in the other room? No reaction.

I wanted to keep our voices low, so she wouldn't hear what we were actually saying in case she did wake up early.

I changed my clothes and then got all the notebooks and books out of both backpacks.

By the time I laid all of them out on the wooden floors and texted the guy that I was supposed to meet in about an hour, Jungkook was already out of the bathroom. So, I was currently staring while he was assessing the state of his backpack dressed in a mere towel.

It was as though he thought of me as a selfish person since he immediately assumed I wouldn't care about his stuff.

I turned around to avoid looking at his half-naked body just so I wouldn't do or even imagine anything I could possibly regret.

"Thanks." He whispered and continued to dry his hair with a green towel.

"No problem." I kept my eyes fixed on the floor as I pointed to the clothes I left for him on the counter.

His tiny head seemed to be floating out of my clothes as every inch of his skin was covered with black material. I couldn't help but think that this view was worth catching a cold for.

I internally laughed as I offered him some water.

I have somewhere to go soon. was what I wanted to say, but instead, I kept quiet as he got on his knees and blew on the soaked pages.

"You never said you lived with your grandma."

"You never asked."

I shifted the blame on him without thinking.

"I mean, I never saw her pick you up or join any of the parents' meetings. I only know that since I had to be there to represent myself..."

"Well, that's because she is..."

Paralyzed.

"Sick. Very sick." I said, and he stopped turning the pages in a futile attempt to keep them from sticking to each other.

"I'm sorry."

"You sure do like apologizing a lot." I cleared my throat and continued, "She's old. It's normal."

"Mine's already…you know... by the way," he started softly, before suddenly standing and coming closer. And his whole face lightened up when he asked:: "Does she know what you...sell?"

"Why? You want to tell on me?" The thought made me grin, and yet he seemed to consider it.

"No. It's just...do you have a regular job? I mean a real, legal thing?"

"No. And keep your voice down." I was massaging my temples at this point.

Yes, of course, why would I mind talking about only the most uncomfortable subjects you can come up with?

"I need to go..." I mumbled under my breath.

"I thought about getting a job, but I don't know what I should do. I thought maybe you'd know someone who's hiring." He cut me off smiling.

I did not expect that.

So, I laughed while covering my mouth.

"I know I'm unqualified, but I'm young... so, I can learn."

"That's not the issue." I pointed to his eyes. "You should get some eye drops or something."

"I did! I just always forget to put them in." He slapped his forehead as if I had just reminded him and since he's completely oblivious, he talked just loud enough for me to question if my grandma did hear him in her dreams.

"Shh. How about we keep talking in the backyard?"

"Oh, I forgot... I'm..." I raised an eyebrow before he apologized again.

We both stopped to stare at the sun that was painting the sky yellow on its way to the other side of the planet.

We were sitting down on the wooden stairs, with the sliding door almost completely shut behind us.

"You were upset just a while ago." As the words left my mouth, I didn't know why I reminded him or even what I wanted to say in the first place. But he responded as if it was a question.

"Well, I figured you can't be a psychopath since anyone would've been upset after being pushed into a lake, but you were...mm... nice, a bit, I guess..." He continued staring at the sky while I twisted my neck only to glare at him in surprise.

Trying to wrap my head around the fact that this human decided it was fine to follow me since I didn't curse or beat him up for pushing me into dirty water right after I gave him the impression of being an actual stalker.

"Oh man, you need to get out more." I rubbed my forehead, as to soothe the oncoming headache.

"Why?"

"I just have a feeling."

"I don't mind going out."

"I mean, go out with people."

"I don't like that," Jungkook admitted.

"I wonder why." Irony perfumed my words, but he turned serious.

"Sober people don't like addicts. Even addicts don't like most addicts." He casually said and I immediately shook my head.

"That's not true. It depends on the person."

"Yeah, it depends if they believe they can help the other 'overcome' their problem. Or maybe steal some." He condescendingly informed me of his personal, possibly reasonable opinion, looking both hurt and annoyed.

"I guess...but you're in luck. The stuff you're doing isn't deadly. It's only making you socially distance yourself, emotionally unstable and your lungs are still youngish, so hopefully, you won't..." I rambled in a trance, but the moment our eyes met, I wasn't sure what he was thinking, so I immediately stopped enumerating the side effects and went on by saying: "Don't worry, I won't try to fix you."

"Promise?" He asked jokingly, but my reply was honest.

"Promise."

"Why?"

"Well, all humans are addicted to something. Some are just more obvious than others, and some are more legal than others. Besides, you won't change unless you hit your own personal rock bottom anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I've seen enough to know that the lack of money can cause some people to quit. But some quit because they get too lonely, are void of purpose, or their health plummets. But those are broad terms for more personal values. I've heard some stories when the, 'You're going to die' red flag, coming from the mouth of a doctor, didn't do anything. But the cheating wife saying, 'I can't wait for you to die' gave them some reason to get clean out of spite. What I am trying to say is that recovery is not as black and white as people would like it to be, but it is possible to want it before you lose your life entirely. I think."

His sudden attentive stare made me self-conscious for some reason.

"What else?"

"What do you mean?"

"What other stories did you hear?"

"It doesn't matter." He crossed his arms, so I took it as a sign to explain, "It is different for everyone. But it's something someone subconsciously values. Something that's linked with their inner-self, I guess, or core...something I don't know how to name."

"...like?"

I checked my phone only to see that I'd already received five messages.

"Like honesty, loyalty, or self-love."

"I don't think so." He decisively argued.

"Really? You never looked in the mirror and thought, 'Well, don't I look pitiful today?' Emotions that drive us, aren't all positive after all."

"I think we've talked enough; I should get going." He got up as if nothing I would say could stop him.

"Sorry," I quickly said, but he didn't sit back down. I went on: "I won't try to change you, but I will talk to you more often. Is that fine?"

His big eyes got even bigger.

"But why?"

"Because I like you."

"Why?"

I sighed.

"Why do you like chocolate?"

"It's sweet..."

"There's your answer." I threw my hands in the air since I thought he'd get it, but his face told me the complete opposite.

"I'm sweet?" He wandered, obviously doubtful.

"No. You're really not. You're not even close..." I laughed since I realized that his innocent face really didn't match the inside, but the way he spoke or simply carried himself implied a lightness that made me want to keep him close for no tangible reason.

His crossed arms were almost entirely hidden by my big black blouse. And it made me want to hug him until he couldn't breathe.

I pushed that thought away and explained myself again, "But I do like your unusual flavor. I just can't describe it yet."

"You're weird." That was his conclusion before he slid the door open and left me alone on the stairs.

I smiled like an idiot before I went after him. And before he left, I agreed to bring his books and notebooks tomorrow.

Wishing I had my headphones, I started running the moment he was far enough although a junkie can't exactly fire his dealer since this is as codependent as a relationship gets.

I knew he wouldn't care anyway, as long as he got his fix, but my boss and friend, Fred, would in fact mind.

I visited him afterward. I gave him the money, received my share, and got Jungkook's drug of choice for tomorrow. During this exchange, he somehow noticed how unusually chipper I looked, so he didn't let me leave without offering me some tea.

"I said sit down."

"My grandma will wake up and worry if I'm not home, Fred. Also, I don't even know if we have any food left. So, I might have to cook dinner and that in itself takes…."

"I will give you some takeout."

"That's not healthy."

"The faster you talk, the faster you'll leave."

I frowned.

"Oh come on kid, don't make me guess." He started to regardless, "Did a miracle treatment get discovered? Or..." He opened and closed his fists in frustration.

"Yeah, I've finally really talked to him."

"About?"

"A lot of things and I think it lasted more than twenty minutes, in total at least."

He clapped very slowly with an 'I told you' expression plastered all over his face.

"And?"

"And he pushed me into the lake."

"He did what?"

"I took him to my house, he took a shower, we talked on the porch about addiction since his hair was wet and he almost agreed to let me talk to him more often." I finished narrating my day by smiling victoriously.

With a smirk on his face, the old man shook his head as he clasped his hands together, before saying: "Kid, you're screwed."

I ran all the way back and made the last stop of the day which was the closest store to my house which was also the one he frequented, but he was nowhere to be seen. I just bought some fresh vegetables and meat that I planned to cook later in the oven.

The voice of my grandma woke me up from the meditative state I fell into shortly after I finished dinner and started reading.

"Namjoon!"

I hurried to our shared room.

"Yes?"

"I dreamt of your father again. That must be a good sign." I smiled a sad smile, lifting her so that the wall would hold her up.

"I hope it is..."

"You got first place in that mathematical Olympiad the last time I dreamt of him."

"I was twelve. I'd still go if they wanted me though."

"You should study more." Her words cut through my serenity as if she had just insulted me. During the times I got some bad grades, she treated me the same as if I was a straight-A student. However, she confessed her final wish on her last four birthdays: "Leave me here to die the day I'm keeping you from achieving something you want."

"I will study more," I promised.

She tilted her head in disbelief.

"I will!" I insisted and walked away, embarrassed to admit that I was in the top five just by paying minimum attention in classes and that I could absolutely do better if I did more work at home. And she knew it. She knew it so well, which is why she pushed me to rely on hard work rather than visual and auditory recollection. Still, this was a small school in a small town, so I couldn't feel as proud no matter how many times she said that being anything but average is good enough.

"Dinner will be ready in a bit."

"Leave the TV on."

Throughout her favorite sitcom, I spoon-fed her the food and pills and spent half the night studying by her side. Falling asleep while doing homework was one of the weirdest regrets I'd experienced in the past couple of years. Because I always woke up and thought the same exact thing: I forgot to lay you down again.

When I got out into the hallway, which was connected to the kitchen and living room since it was all just one big, open room. I stepped on one of the now-dried books with tired eyes.

The fact of the matter was that even if I wouldn't dare to approach him yesterday, we would've spoken anyway since he'd usually get his refill today. And then he'd have to pay for his stuff with the act I suggested as a joke two years ago.

But I couldn't bring myself to like that there was a string attached to it, and yet I was scared of what would happen if the string was going to be cut.

But I don't want him to friend-zone me either.

Then again, I've acknowledged the hesitation anyone would have when asked to become close friends with their dealer, especially if they had to sexually pleasure said dealer first. Still, I doubted he'd accept getting his stuff just by breathing in the same room with me.

I opened the back door after I squeezed toothpaste on my brush. Walked around the garden with the hose on the highest setting to give the three flowers, bushes, and trees some sustenance. The beauty of the rising sun couldn't capture my attention, nor free my consciousness from drowning in its thoughts.

The chirping birds and the sound of water were the only things that disturbed the dense silence.

I should ask him what he wants to do instead. But what if he wants to stop, and I don't want to? Wouldn't that imply I am just a dirtbag who wants to be friends with an addict that has to suck me off to get his drug in the first place?

I used the hose to cleanse my mouth and spat on the same spot I always did.

By asking him to be my friend, didn't I just friend-zone myself by default?

Without making an actual single sound, I screamed, exasperated, in my head.

I'll just rape him. I told myself half-jokingly, half-considering it.

I got stuck on the image of him turning away in either terror or disappointment, and then I just shoved him to the floor.

Nah.

"Shit," I mumbled as I noticed the almost drowned potted flower.

I didn't expect him to say "Hi." but he didn't even look at me for the entire five hours we spent in the same classroom. The only time our eyes met was when he woke up from his nap and realized I was shamelessly staring.

One more hour. I reassured myself, peaking at the clock.

Classmates kept their distance from me too, but some did talk to me occasionally.

They seemed to be afraid of me since I was psychically bigger and considered intelligent by academic standards. But the fact that I was always reading in class was mostly due to boredom and not an intentional act meant to alienate myself. Something that had happened without me noticing.

I was someone they could understand, given my dire conditions. And I was someone the girls secretly liked to consider dating in their imagination, while Jungkook was a complete, utter mystery. They could label me in countless ways, while his nickname was an assumption. I've heard someone joking that he probably wouldn't have said his real name if he wasn't legally obliged to give it to the school.

I didn't care about the girls who sometimes asked me questions just so they made sure I either noticed them or answered their questions about studying. Or the boys who've complimented me on my grades on numerous occasions just so I'd hopefully lend them my homework or join their sports club; which apparently, would give their team an advantage because of my height alone.

Somehow, all I cared about was the guy who was sitting in the middle of the class with his head facing the door, buried in his arms on the desk that always had the same notebook on the left. The boy who pretended to be asleep. I could tell when he truly did pass out cause that's when his hands went completely limp. And when he was really tired, saliva would escape his mouth and create a coin-sized wet spot on the desk.

He didn't sleep as much as people thought and claimed he did. Which should've been all the time.

When I found out he cared enough to bring everything with him, I was truly taken aback. Those books rarely left the backpack, however.

He's actively trying to avoid everybody.

And this was the type of person that somehow made me want to get too close to my liking. Like a moth getting drawn to light, even at the risk of burning alive.

Without me pulling, there would only be pushing and that bothered me.

"All the exercises, starting from page thirty-two to thirty-four are due next week. And was not joking, I will assign more homework to those who fail to finish everything on time."

After the teacher left, I tried to hide the fact that I was in a hurry. We couldn't let our classmates see us going in the same direction or get caught in plain sight once the place was deserted.

Teachers had to check the classrooms and hallways for students that had no business being there. It became a habit to take note of every single class I was passing by my way to the furthest bathroom, while also making sure they were empty.

Not concerned with the teachers since some remembered to check the bathrooms, but even fewer remembered to check the stalls. But most students were more likely to let their curiosity get the best of them. Luckily, most would meet next to the building to avoid unnecessary scolding.

Ten minutes later, when most of the school became nothing but a silent, abandoned building because all classes, but not all clubs, ended around the same time.

Jungkook came to the same bathroom with a book in hand.

"You forgot this." It was all he said before he handed it to me while I handed him the stuff he left to dry at my house. He then proceeded to open the door of the stall and hold it open while staring straight into my eyes with a bored expression on his pale face.

"Wait." I heard myself saying. He crossed his arms as the door closed by itself. "This is not what friends do, right?" I asked, starting to sweat all of a sudden.

"I don't care."

"But we..."

"I won't receive charity."

"It's not. If we become friends, then..."

"I don't agree. If you don't receive anything in return, then the moment when you'll get upset with me for anything, you will use it to blackmail me."

I was taken aback by the way he thought about our exchange, which made it sound even dirtier than it already was.

"Then how about you...help me join your club? That way we're even."

"That would work only if the club was hard to join. You only need to sign one piece of paper, and you're in. It would be a favor only if all the members would hate you upon arrival, which I doubt will happen. Even so, that'd work only for today. The same favor, won't work next time so...come on."

He pushed the door ajar for the second time and yet, his miserable demeanor; clear eyes, and indifferent tone made me clench my fists.

I didn't know if the reason he was cranky today was that he ran out of weed too soon. Or if he spoke harshly because he wanted to get it over with. No matter the reason, the indifference he was handling it with made me want to hurt him.

His big round eyes stared into my eyes. Thin arms stuck out of white sleeves as he pushed, only to let go of the door since I wasn't moving.

It all made me want to do it even more.

"Look," he sighed as if he was exasperated with me, "...we agreed to do this two years ago, and it's not like I can help you with your homework or..."

He friend-zoned me already. I acknowledged with bitterness.

And grabbed him by the collar. Dragged him into the stall and then locked it. Took his backpack and threw it on the toilet seat.

He backed away from me as much as he could, but there were only two steps left behind until his back hit the plastic wall. His shocked expression made my stomach feel warm.

I took his dark blue jacket off and placed it on top of the backpack. Grabbed his hair hard and smirked unconsciously when he moaned from the sudden pain as I unzipped my fly with the other hand and pushed him down with the right one.

His little signs of protest made me harder. His fast-hot breath made it even better. I shoved it in his mouth without caring if he choked for the first time. Something that would happen no matter what I'd do anyway.

He almost fell flat on the floor, but he couldn't since I kept his head still. I wasn't using much force, but it was enough to shake him to the core.

He kept trying to swallow the excess saliva and breathe at a regular pace, but after he failed more than once, he started to push against my thrusts. But I refused to give him any room or break.

I did it for several minutes until I heard him trying to talk, but I couldn't understand one word he was saying, so I pulled him up. I could swear that I've felt some hairs getting ripped off his scalp in the process.

"What?" I inquired, genuinely curious.

I knew I was way more aggressive than usual, as I truly tried not to be, even if I had always wanted to ruin that happy-go-lucky composure of his, for a reason I couldn't comprehend or admit to myself. Nor admit the way I was feeling right now was ten times better than I had previously expected which was one minute before my hand made contact with his collar. Pleased that I wasn't breaking the deal either since this was, still, just fellatio. Hence, he couldn't possibly find anything to complain about.

"Did I do or say something wrong?" His voice trembled a bit as tears stood gathered at the corners of his eyes. Clear snot flowing from the nose and red, swollen parted lips tempted me with their closeness as they trembled just slightly.

"Yes. Can you tell me exactly what you think you've done wrong?"

His eyes lost focus as he tried to recall our conversation, but when he couldn't find his fault, he simply found my eyes again with confusion written all over him.

"Think harder."

I cornered him and then pushed him down again. The choking sounds he was making with every thrust were like a twisted song that tickled my ears, but I still paid attention to the door of the bathroom or to any other sounds outside it.

"S-ph-t..." I kept hitting the back of his throat with no effort and if he didn't even get half of my length in his mouth once in two years, I knew this must've been more painful than before. His teeth grazed against the sides of my penis like always because his mouth was anatomically too small for me. His tongue was somewhere hidden in the back of his throat.

I didn't mind the slight pain, but I could tell that his nails were digging into my legs in a desperate attempt to hold me back.

"Pl-a-l-p-ea-sh!" Were all the letters I could understand as he lightly hit my leg and the other hand squeezed the one that was still holding his hair.

After a while, I stepped back and pulled him up by the roots again.

A copious amount of saliva was dripping down his chin, then down his neck. He was definitely tearing up as he coughed, trying to wipe his nose simultaneously. I watched him catch his breath before I grabbed his neck and lightly squeezed before I pushed him flat against the light wooden door.

"Did you figure it out?"

His eyes were wide open and a bit, just a bit fearful.

"I..." He breathed in big gulps of air and I kept feeling his neck contracting and struggling to swallow the excess saliva against the palm of my hand. "Didn't accept your favor...?" he tried, I smirked.

"No." I barely lifted my free hand towards his hair before he spoke again: "Wait! Wa-it, I... I, was I disrespectful?"

"A bit, but that's not it."

"Wait! Please, please don't! It hurts so much."

I could tell he was trying really hard not to start crying when his voice broke as one tear fell and this time it was not because fluids couldn't function properly.

The way his face contorted due to pain and grievance left me breathless. Both hands kept trying to hold my wrist still.

His messed up long, slightly curly hair and saliva-coated collar made me want to grin like a psychopath.

"I'm sorry! I don't know because I didn't mean to. I'm really, really..." He explained, trying to suppress his emotions. Not wanting to show me how he was ready to bawl his eyes out, it seemed.

And I wasn't helping him calm down at all. My left hand didn't even lighten the pressure on his neck.

He wasn't able to move one centimeter, which would probably make him feel a bit better. I pondered on whether I should let him know that I wouldn't hurt him more, but I couldn't decide if I could even stop yet.

I was mesmerized.

His irregular breathing kept on hitting my lips over and over again, And with every choked, girly sound he let out...I got more turned on.

Ah, why is he so fascinating? Inside and out? Fuck...I really hate you.

We both attended the same kindergarten because we were both living in the same small town, but we parted ways when we entered general school, even after we became almost friends for a brief moment.

After my parents had died and he kept running from home for unknown reasons to me, we lost all contact. If we've coincidentally met on the street, then we have never greeted each other.

Our too-tight, handmade prison was only two feet wide and the once transparent walls had turned black after those events.

When I saw him on the first day of high school, my heart started beating faster, and I couldn't tell why until I offered this deal to him as a joke since he had no money. Nor could I tell why he had accepted it in the first place even if he had no other options. I had finally realized that I'd been and was in love with a man for the first time.

And now, two years later, I've finally kissed him.

Against his will.