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lty-kwh · 3 years

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“𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈. . . 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔?” kunhang’s voice is high pitched, nervous, somehow melting along with the chaos that is whatever’s playing through the bar’s loud and cheap speakers. it’s apparent, really, the slight panic in his voice, the goosebumps picking up at his skin and the slight sweating which is beginning to gather up as the young man begins to put the pieces together. he remembers then; the stupid stupid stupid pool tournament his friends begged him to sign up for a month or so ago. his head falls back, a loud sigh escapes him, and nothing but a giggle flies past the lips of his companion - or, well, right now, his absolute worst nightmare.

“listen, you didn’t want to come on your own, and we all know that you need the money. plus, you’re good! you can win this! well. i think.” “you think?!” “dude. you’re two months behind on rent. if you don’t at least try and win this this, we’re kicking you out.”

kunhang is then faced with a choice to make. possible and absolute humiliation in front of people he might never see again but the constant reminder of it replaying in his head over and over, or the unfortunate instance of having to live in a cardboard box and to share his snacks with some street rats whom he will grow to eventually love as his new family. he squints at the table before him, he does the math and makes a run for the door - yet before he knows it, he is met with a giant wong yukhei with an oddly excited chittaphon by his side. “sorry we’re late- i had to drop something off.” he mumbles in a midst of confusion, shaking the boy before him in the slightest. “no no, it’s fine, your timing is. . . immaculate.” kunhang mutters bitterly as a response, hands messily running through his hair whilst trying very hard to ignore yang’s giant, idiotic, goofy, and (unfortunately) victorious grin. this is not how he wanted to spend his saturday night.

“if i’m going to do this, you idiots better at least pay for my drinks.”

it took an hour or so to catch kunhang up on the plan - the boys even managed to literally draft him a game plan, which he found quite amusing considering that none of them knew a single thing there is to know about pool ( except dejun, who apparently claims that he used to play when he was a kid?? how did kunhang miss that - he practically grew up with him.) by now the boy is pacing around his friends in small circles, thumb massaging his aiming hand, eyes closed while reciting anything that happens to flash through his mind. a nervous habit, sure, but a habit that never fails to calm him down in times of need nonetheless. however his little ritual comes to a halt upon noticing a group of people stepping into the bar, straight towards the old green pool table. so naturally. as if it’s theirs, as if they do this every saturday night. fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. he is so fucked. if kunhang was nervous earlier, he is ready to shit his pants at this very moment.

the others pick up on it, the sudden halt of pacing, the colour nearly draining from his face as his gaze stays fixed on the group of boys cheerfully setting up. even dejun and yangyang stopped arguing, now slowly leaning into the table, attempting to catch the boy’s attention. “kunhang. . . you good?” kun ponders in slight worry, now standing before him and waving a hand to his face. but kunhang doesn’t pay mind to it, a tiny, slight, delirious smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spins towards yangyang. “you little. tiny. insignificant weasel. please. please tell me that the man setting up at the table over there isn’t lee taeyong.” he speaks out, voice low and steady. “oh dude, oooooh this is about to get good.” sicheng chuckles out reaching towards the bowl of peanuts they all have been sharing. yangyang, on the contrary, looks absolutely confused. he glances between kunhang, the group at the table, back to kunhang and shrugs.

“yeah, i think i saw his name on the sheet. so? is he someone import-” “HE’S THE BEST PLAYER IN SEOUL YOU ABSOLUTE MORON”

the outburst attracts attention to him - he doesn’t realize how loud his voice gets, and by now he can practically feel the burning stare from the people around that cursed table on him. curiousity gets the best of him - because maybe it’s in his head, maybe they didn’t hear him. he’s proven wrong upon glancing to the side and meeting eyes directly with the opponent in question, eyebrows raised and the smallest, subtlest smile tugging at his lips. kunhang stares back at yangyang - who is holding back a laugh. “if i lose, i’ll kill you in your sleep and sell your organs to the black market to pay rent.” “is that a promise?” “yes.”

#pool

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