bring us down to earth
gtop | r, 2741w, canon
and how long will it take to (not) fall for you again?
Seunghyun can't quite comprehend what sets this particular breakup apart from the rest. Frankly, he can say that it always involves a negligible matter, which somehow escalates into a needless melodrama. It's ignited by one of his own trite remarks or by some tactless critique of Jiyong's. Regardless of the technicalities, it begets a flare of indignation or otherwise, thus erecting the fight.
A month ago, it had involved sending Jolie outside for the night instead of letting her rest on the couch (back and forth with the damn dog is not worth more than my furniture and how dare you, she's not a fucking inanimate object because Jiyong is pretty capable of retorts, or maybe Seunghyun is just terrible at comebacks, who knows). Before that, Jiyong had been struck with a migraine just as Seunghyun had opted to slack off throughout an entire rehearsal. Then there had been some chastisement, for Christ's sake, get your fat ass off the bench and work like the rest of us. Inevitably, this had been taken to heart. Even during television programs and in public, they had pointedly avoided one another for a month. And then they'd gone bar-hopping with friends and got high, or were maddened by the stretch of inactivity and the unbearable desire to fuck. It had cycled on and on in this way for some time.
Last week Jiyong had wanted to jam to Wu-Tang (as in days gone by), but Seunghyun had been feeling more Jay-Z. And then they'd disputed old school vs. mainstream because it lacks the depth and soul and character said Jiyong, which Seunghyun can't understand considering that the lyrics are beyond their grasp of English. So whatever, they'd agreed to disagree. Jiyong had put on an obscure, European indie flick—shit involving art freaks slash hipsters, weird camera angles, illicit joints, and gay bars—all of which had bored the hell out of Seunghyun. "Can't you just be normal?" he'd commented offhandedly, halfway through it. Jiyong had ranted on about cheap underlying themes he wouldn't have supposed were intended, psychological bullshit and society's propensity to who-knows-what. At some point, Seunghyun had cut him off mid-sentence. In silence, he'd walked from the sofa to the front door and out, out, out of Jiyong's apartment, out of Jiyong's life.
it's over, one of them had texted the other (whether it had been him or Jiyong, Seunghyun couldn't recall). Kind of pointless, anyway; it had been over the very moment the silence began.
Primarily, what irks him so damn much is the fact that scarcely any time has passed (nowhere near a record-breaker by means of length or intensity), yet already Jiyong has found somebody else to be with.
Irony, Seunghyun thinks, seeing as Hyuksoo was his friend first. After all, he's the one who introduced Jiyong to Nuthang; without him, Hyuksoo/Jiyong wouldn't have even existed. Yet here they are: traversing the same underground raves he and Jiyong had gone to, the same chic underrated cafes and the illest nightclubs in Seoul.
Not that any of it should matter. Not like he should be carrying this on when all it ever does is end in ruin. So, why does he?
"I dunno, hyung," says Daesung, tossing his red Adidas sweatshirt over his shoulder, glancing out from the corner of his eye. "Sounds like you're not really over him, after all." In response, Seunghyun scoffs, leaning flush against the staircase railing and stretching his legs in a poised stance against the wall.
They're still there at YG because Daesung enjoys working out in the evening (he claims it helps him clear his head). And since Seunghyun has nothing else to do, he tails the only one who apparently sympathizes, complaining incessantly to him. For there's not really anyone else: Jiyong is hogging Youngbae (as expected), while the maknae is shooting death glares every time Seunghyun comes within five feet of the leader. Which is fine. Daesung's a great listener, Seunghyun thinks (hopes). Anyway, he seems to be making out well despite the noise emanating from the treadmill.
"I am over it," Seunghyun insists exasperatedly, "really. Jiyong's a prick. That's all."
At this point, he half-expects Daesung to argue in Jiyong's defense. That would be the "right" thing to do, he assumes, in Daesung's mind and conscience. But he doesn't. Instead, he murmurs a quiet hyung, flashes a slight smile as he shuts down for the night. And Seunghyun thinks back on when they were so much closer, when sometimes it was just Seunghyun and Daesung whenever the others were being assholes or sore losers and spoiled the fun. Maybe Daesung has been a better friend to him up until now than he'd realized.
"Thanks," he says once they've stepped outside, frigid air slapped and stinging against their reddened cheeks. "Really."
It's not a normal expression of thanks by any means- Daesung knows. A stilted nod, a diffident smile, and then his expression contorts into something indiscernible.
"To be honest... I've been lonely for some time."
Daesung nods, vigorously this time, gaze fixed elsewhere. Mutely, he walks ahead, hands jammed in his pockets and strides long.
Seunghyun watches him until the figure in the distance grows miniscule and disappears, until his heels are numb within his shoes. He drives home, goes to bed, stares at the ceiling all night, and vainly hopes he doesn't have to get up in the morning (because even though the sun will rise to beget the day anew, that hurts more).***
God, why me? Seunghyun groans inwardly, distinguishing the voice. Reluctantly, he pulls off his headphones with the most caustic glower he can muster.
"Christ, you can be such a drama queen sometimes," Jiyong complains, rolling his eyes.
Seunghyun snorts. "That's like the pot calling the kettle black."
"Oh, cute. Your mom teach you that one?"
Caught off guard, Seunghyun looks away, thumbing the lowercase b engraved upon his Beats by Dr. Dre.
Jiyong hisses through his teeth- he's ignited, a spitfire; he'd continue to partake in this game of knife-edged banter, but it's futile when the opponent is uncooperative.
"Seungho, Hyuksoo, and I are going with some other people to this underground rave," he pipes up, changing the subject. "They said that it's gonna be dope, like, really, really sick, and-"
"Sounds like loads of fun," Seunghyun interrupts offhandedly.
"I," says Jiyong, "w- well, yeah. They said you could join us. If you want."
Then he clicks his tongue in anticipation, waiting for the other man's answer. Half a minute passes, and when there isn't one, he adds, "It's New Year's Eve."
"You shouldn't be sitting alone in your room all by yourself."
"And you shouldn't pretend to actually care."
It's silent after that, and Seunghyun goes back to staring at his iPad home screen. But he doesn't have to look to know that Jiyong's seething (he's Jiyong, after all).
"Pretend. Are you fucking kidding me?"
Again, there's no response. Out of the corner of his eye, Seunghyun catches a glimpse of Jiyong's bony digits, clenched tightly in a fit of suppressed fury.
"Look," he snarls evenly, slamming a hand down upon the desk, "I didn't have to invite you to do anything. This was my choice, okay? Nobody even missed you, I mean, Hyuksoo was on the fence. He says you're a jealous bastard-"
"Fuck off. Stop. Just shut up."
Abruptly, Jiyong does. He trails off mid-insult, chews his bottom lip, and stares at the floor, like he's said something he wasn't supposed to.
"The last thing I want to see is the two of you disgustedly groping one another," Seunghyun states placidly.
A cry of outrage emanates from Jiyong, and he knows he's done it. Barely restraining the urge to plug his ears, he listens to the other man screech something about him being an antisocial prat, who isn't going to ruin his New Year, who is the most infuriating person he's ever met. And as soon as he's arrived, he's gone.
Seunghyun goes back to lying around and wearing headphones.
The next several hours are a blur in his memory, despite being uneventful. Later, Youngbae comes in and invites him to go out drinking with him and the other members and some of the other staff and trainees. Of course, he says no. He remembers bits and pieces of a cliché romantic comedy flick, and dozing off the rest of the time.
It's one o' clock in the morning when his phone buzzes in his jeans pocket. Irritated, Seunghyun rubs the sleep from his eyes and answers.
"Hyung, it's me," echoes Jiyong's voice from the other end of the line. It's haggard and thin and worn around the edges.
"What? What happened?"
"I need you to come get me," he says, sounding maybe a little choked up. "Please."
Then he's ranting about how he fought with Hyuksoo, and how Seungho left earlier with a large group of girls, and how cold it is- but none of it matters, really, because he'd had Seunghyun on the please. When he's pulled on his jacket and started his car, Seunghyun stops him.
"Ji," he reassures, "Jiyong, it's all right. I'm on my way."
And he imagines Jiyong shivering in the dark, arms bare and mascara slicked down his cheeks, nodding although no one's there to see it. That's all it takes to fuel him.
It takes Seunghyun an hour and a half to find him, given that his phone is a bitch and wasn't providing decent GPS services. Thus, it's not quite the "knight in shining armor" maneuver either of them was hoping for when he finally pulls up next to Jiyong's huddled form.
"Smooth," Jiyong remarks drily, crawling into the passenger seat. "Where've you been?"
"Looking for you. Might've saved time to tell me where in the hell you were, and answer my calls-"
He shrugs. "Phone died. Tried to contact you, though."
"So that's why the damn GPS wouldn't work."
Seunghyun grunts irritably, coercing the vehicle to trudge forward. A glance from the open road, the flickering streetlights illuminating Jiyong's features. Nightlife, kaleidoscopic colors, the incessant bustling of crowds… all of it a haze, and none of it seeming to matter.
"Can I ask you something?"
They've come to a halt at a red light, so Seunghyun looks across at Jiyong and imbibes the sight of him- he's leaning as far back against the seat as he can go, lithe arms crossed over his chest, legs spread wide apart. Perspiration beads at his eyebrows and eyelashes and at the ends of his hair. Seunghyun's gaze follows a droplet as it trickles down the younger man's forearm, splattering onto a sliver of exposed flesh right beside the tattoo on his stomach.
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," says Seunghyun, trying not to sound flustered.
"Why are you acting so, so damn possessive?! I don't even know- just stop!"
It's something Jiyong's wanted to say, has been waiting to say- Seunghyun can tell. He acts as if can breathe again, when he's been holding it in for too long.
"I mean, I was never even angry, God. And you talk as if I'm so sensitive and clingy, but don't you dare tell me I'm the one who induced all this shit. Why in the world can't you let me be happy? Why won't you wish me all the best?"
Seunghyun grimaces. There should be a valid comeback, although he searches for it to no avail. Because the truth is, Jiyong's right. Perhaps none of this ever actually concerned Jiyong or Hyuksoo; perhaps it was only Seunghyun all along. Always Seunghyun. Alone. Again.
"Fucking hell, Jiyong, I swear you're deluded. I honestly don't give a shit. I never did." Laughter bubbles up in his throat and emanates like a round of hacking coughs- trenchant, bitter, and empty. "Why don't I just drop you off at the next whorehouse so you can go off and fuck somebody else like the filthy slut you really are?"
There is no rush of gratification in the words uttered, no- there is only a resonant pang of attrition, heartache, and wanting to amend the damage done. Jiyong blinks, a single hand furling and unfurling in his lap. Averting his eyes, Seunghyun focuses on the road ahead. It works temporarily, but then a muffled sob comes from Jiyong, whose entire body is quivering.
"S- Seunghyun," he croaks, voice catching on the word and bereft of the hyung. That's all it takes. Seunghyun swerves, the car jolting expeditiously. Pulling over at the curb, he kills the engine and whirls around to face his junior.
Jiyong's face is awash with tears and snot, cheeks and nose profusely flushed, eyes bright and bloodshot. Shakily, he exhales, gaunt knees drawn up against his petite frame as he cries.
By now, Seunghyun feels his own vision smarting. "Jiyongie," he mutters, scarcely audible, "Ji, I'm so sorry."
At first, Jiyong doesn't answer, or can't bring himself to- and Seunghyun begins to worry about what the hell he's going to do. But then there's a firm hand upon his shoulder, and he looks over to find Jiyong half-giggling in spite of himself.
"Wait, did you just apologize?" he demands, grinning from ear to ear. "So, that's it? Okaaay, then…"
"Am I forgiven? Wha-?"
"I don't know, are you?"
And Jiyong is cracking up all over himself, still crying himself blind. Although Seunghyun is still puzzled beyond belief, there's something in Jiyong's laughter that's so incredibly contagious, he can't help himself but join. Chortling, loudly, like a pair of idiots, and others shoot them disapproving looks- but they don't ever care, they've got an affinity reserved for moments such as these.
"Apology accepted," says Jiyong, as soon as he can breathe again. Seunghyun regards that stupid, familiar, gummy smile stretched from ear to ear, all the tears still rolling down his face- raw and alive, inexplicably mesmerizing.
"You look like shit," he lies.
"Dumbass," Jiyong deadpans, forever acrimonious, "the blatant expression on your face disproves."
Seunghyun just stares.
"You know, for someone who's supposed to be an actor, you're terrible at pretending."
"Whatever," he responds, ridiculously enamored by Ji's scathing, smart-aleck propensity. It's all he can do to restrain from clinging to the boy and kissing him senseless. "Are we getting back together again?"
"'Spose so. We ain't gonna fight no more, are we? At least, let's not break up for petty reasons."
Nodding, Seunghyun begins to climb into the backseat. Consequentially, he is given a dubious look, though he merely winks and beckons for Jiyong to do the same.
"Here? Right now?! Jiyong whispers sharply. Still, he hastily unfastens his seatbelt and slides into the space next to Seunghyun. "Horny motherfucker."
"Shhh," says Seunghyun. From the trunk, he snatches up a pack of Jack Daniel's and plops it down on the cushion between them. Then blithely, he smirks. "I'll let you drink it from my mouth."
And then he crashes his lips onto Jiyong's.
Some weak protest builds in Jiyong's throat, yet he submits- because really, they both desire it. Seunghyun's tongue thrusts forth against Jiyong's teeth, which is accepted and greedily sucked upon.
"Ji," Seunghyun gasps, breaking apart momentarily to nip at Jiyong's lower lip, "I need you."
A faint, drawn-out moan escapes Jiyong as he straddles Seunghyun's waist, the pressure of his hard-on flush against the older man's groin. It's not long before they've fully undressed each other, and Jiyong's hands and knees are imprinted with the metal seatbelt clasps.
When they're finished, Jiyong huddles into the curve of Seunghyun's chest, forehead perched upon his shoulder. It's an awkward position, strangely endearing. So Seunghyun lets him stay.
"This is forever, right?" says Jiyong, leaning over to grab a bottle of Jack and unscrewing the lid. He downs a mouthful and bends over. Involuntarily, Seunghyun jerks- causing the liquid to spill from Jiyong's mouth, spraying his entire face. They just laugh it off, Seunghyun rubbing at the beer dribbling down his chin, and Jiyong lapping it up like a puppy.
"Of course. Always."
a/n: i don't even know what this was
i think it was supposed to be a sorry excuse for fluff. so. happy belated new year.
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.