Still A_Stray: Living With Stray Kids (ot8 fanfic)

Chapter 37

Still astray-ay-ay

I didn't talk during the drive, and Jeongin didn't either, looking out the window. It was only a short trip, though, and I parked the car along the curb five minutes later.

Jeongin looked up, the smooth glass of his face fragmented and frowning. "Where did you take us?"

I pulled the key out of the ignition, slipping into my pocket with a smile. "There's only one way to find out."

I was out of the car in a second, my energy revived; Jeongin was slower, and I was waiting for him by the time he got out of the car, blinking in the bright light of the sun peeking out through the clouds. I watched as he took in the sandbark, slides, and swing set making up the tiny, shabby playground we'd stumbled upon.

"You took me to ... a kid's park?" he asked, frown deepening.

My smile widened. "Yeah," I said, like a little kid.

He blinked. "Why?"

"Three reasons. One, I needed a place to pull over and this was the first thing I saw. Two, privacy—who's going to be looking for I.N of Stray Kids at a kiddie playground? And three—the most important..." I grabbed his hand, tugging him into the sandbark. "Swings!"

Jeongin's expression looked mildly concerned for my sanity, but at least I could still see him. At least his eyes were starting to crinkle again into half moons, and that shadowed look on his face was starting to wear away at the edges.

I led him over to the swings, jumping on one. "When was the last time you went on one of these?"

"I can't remember," Jeongin said, staring up wistfully at the swing set.

I laughed. "You look like Romeo. Come on, get on!"

"I don't know who that is," he said, but he got on the swing all the same.

I started to pick up a rhythm, and soon we were both whooshing through the air, both our bodies far too big for the little seats. The metal was hot from the sun and the chains bit into my palms, but I didn't care, because swings are fucking fun and it's a crime that society doesn't allow adults to be on them anymore. I could tell Jeongin thought so, too, because every time the swings went back and I caught his face, it looked a little bit more free.

Across the street, the tall, empty building I'd pulled up across from opened, and a middle-aged couple walked out, staring at us in surprise. I probably would've stared too—two grown adults laughing their heads off on some tiny kiddie playground in the middle of nowhere. But I was too far away to make out the whites of their eyes, which meant they were far enough away I could ignore them, so I turned back to Jeongin and grinned wider.

"See what I mean?" I shouted at him too loudly, the wind whipping around the ears and my hair.

He smiled back at me, holding the swing chains so tightly his knuckles were white. "Swings!"

"Jeongin," I said, the words pushing past my lips. "Let go!"

He blinked. "What?"

I let go on the swing chains, spreading my arms out before me, and let go, pushing myself higher. "Yeji, are you crazy? You could fall!" Jeongin shouted, holding the chains tighter.

I just laughed, feeling invincible. "Do it!"

He watched me for a second longer, brows furrowed, then hesitantly let go, the whiteness fading from his hands. The next time I looked over, I caught him smiling, stretching out his hands to let the wind whistle through them. I grinned. 

Emotions are funky in the way that we sense them, experience them. Sometimes emotion is something you can taste. Bittersweetness? It's in the name. Fear is that dryness in your mouth like brittle wood, making it hard to swallow. Anger you can hear, in sharpened silences, clipped words; Jealousy is something you can smell, tangy and metallic like blood, thick and heavy in your nose. But freedom...