Hello, Stranger
Title: Hello, Stranger
Pairing: g-ri
Rating: R (swearing, dark themes)
Word Count: 1391
a/n: wow, so, this was a fail (as i say with every single fic i write. when will i be satisfied with one?!) i wrote this in an hour, started at 2am, and now its 3am. i wrote it so fast cause i feel my absence from g-ri became too great D; and so, the result: a quick fic. enjoy?
He was suicidal. But to an extent.
The pressure of the blade against his skin wasn’t enough to snap those fragile strings of blue and green, the sky and the trees, the red of a decaying animal, the blood inside those tubes that could burst out if only there was more pressure. The veins of his life.
He was suicidal, but he would never dare to actually cut the strings.
~
He was delusional, but only to the extent reality would allow.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would feel the cold metal press against his temple and he would hear the pull of the trigger, sounding with a click bigger than the small room, ringing in his ears and a snap like he’d been awaken from a hypnosis, air entering his lungs in such a short, almost non-existent, stagnated way that threatened to lead him to choke on it. Then reality faded in and suddenly his life wasn’t on the line anymore.
A cold sweat trickled down his temple, as cold as that metal he thought he felt, and he reached for the joint on his nightstand, and then reality was just a hallucination.
~
“Romeo’s just a love sick dumb ass, and Juliet’s no different. Yeah, young and naïve.”
“Um, yeah, who are you?”
“Guess a good tragedy brings around a good moral.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Well, this one sure did. Or so everyone believes. They just pull out whatever interpretations they want from their asses and suddenly it becomes a life lesson---“
“When really it could just be a load of bull.”
“…yeah, right. Exactly.”
They were sitting in the far back seats of the auditorium, watching a rehearsal going on. Jiyong was the intruder, Seungri didn’t know if he minded his company or not.
He was going to ask the intruder for his name, but when he turned in the other’s direction, the blonde headed boy was already turning the corner of the exit.
~
“You know, you can tell a lot about a person from the coffee they drink.”
Seungri looked up from his iPod and there was a flash of blonde hair before it settled itself beside him on the small sofa chair he was in.
“Uh, yeah, are you stalking me?” he was only half joking.
“Wow, I see you like yours black.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I don’t even know you so get your mouth away from my coffee.”
“Hey.”
“What?”
This boy, blonde and young, eyes wide and pupils dilated with heavy bags beneath, hollow cheeks and skin as pale as the walls of an asylum, and Seungri wondered how nicely his blood would look against such insipid skin. He wondered how easily the flesh would slice, and how vibrant the ruby red liquid would contrast with white.
And then Jiyong kissed him on the mouth.
~
“We are so fucked up.”
“No, we just have different ways with dealing with our problems.”
White powder disappeared into his nose, and Jiyong let out a satisfied sigh, wiped his nose clean.
“You’re delusional if you don’t see that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Well, I’d like to at least know the name of the person I just fucked.”
The whole place smelled like drugs and old take-out food. It was a place this blonde headed boy could escape to and do whatever he wanted to his satisfaction, his own little make believe paradise when really, all it was was a small one bedroom apartment that was rotting away like the insides of its resident. The curtains closed out the world outside, but the television settled as a replacement for it.
“Jiyong.”
He had his face nuzzled in white, and Seungri just starred at the muscles of his back as they contracted with each intake, the milky smooth skin stretching around protruding bones like dough and his hands had the urge to kneed it. Jiyong. It sounded like the name of a boy who could be living a better life, with a nice girlfriend whom he loved, a family that still cared. It was the name of a boy who fucked his life up so fast he didn’t even see it happening, the name of the boy who lost the girl he loved and the family that cared.
Seungri reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small one inch razor blade.
“Hey, stay still for a moment, yeah?”
Jiyong just nodded and set up new lines of cocaine, or maybe he was rolling a joint, Seungri didn’t really care.
He pressed the blade against the skin on Jiyong’s shoulder, watching amusedly as it slowly split and a red line was left in the trail of the blade. Blood seeped out of the wound and trickled serenely down Jiyong’s back, like a small waterfall in Seungri’s perspective. It was a beautiful sight, and it looked just as he’d pictured it.
Jiyong jumped from his spot on the bed, pushed Seungri’s hand away from his bare back, which was now a stained canvas of his own blood.
“Ya! What the fuck!”
“Wait, no, please…one more, then I’m done.”
“Are you crazy? You really think I’m just going to let you cut me again?”
“Please, just one more. I’ll leave when I’m done.” He reached forward and grasped Jiyong’s thin wrist, pulled him forward.
Jiyong was hesitant, but he wasn’t doing anything to stop Seungri from proceeding either. Seungri slid the blade against his collar bone, a long two inch cut along the bone, and Jiyong’s hand was gripping tightly at his naked shoulder and his eyes were shut in an attempt to block out the small tinge of pain. Blood slid down his chest, and Seungri quickly leaned forward to lap at the loose blood. He sucked gently on the small wound and Jiyong’s hand was lost in the boy’s hair.
He woke up the next morning, there wasn’t a scratch anywhere on the surface of his body, but Seungri was sleeping right beside him.
~
“Jiyong, I can make you better.”
“…yeah? Or is it the other way around?”
“Either way, we can make each other better.”
“I could fall in love with you, and we could be lovers if we wanted, too.”
“Yeah, I guess we could.”
He was sitting on the floor beside the bed, and Jiyong was burning something in a spoon as he was laying in the bundle of pillows. Seungri had a pocket knife in his hand, and he was pressing it against his wrist, sliding it one way, then repeating the gesture on untouched surfaces of his skin. Today wasn’t his day, nor was it his father’s either, and the bruises that marred his face proved it.
“If we give it time, I’d be able to say ‘I love you’ and mean it.”
Jiyong trailed off, into a dream like state, whether it be from the liquid that was spreading slowly through his veins or maybe he was actually considering things, it put a small, unsure smile on his face.
Seungri slid the knife, and thoughts of running away with Jiyong, away from an abusive father and a shitty family occupied his mind, and suddenly there were two boys smiling skeptically in a small, gaudy apartment. The cold metal slid against his skin, and the pressure was just a little harder than normal, accidentally cut a vein and split the cord. His life began ticking away, his vision became fuzzy, and tears fell from his eyes. He began sobbing.
Jiyong heard the sobs, but he shrugged it off, I must be delusional. Suddenly, Seungri gripped his hand in his own, but Jiyong was too lost in his own world, in a state of ecstasy, he didn’t think much of it, he could barely feel the shaky hand grasping his own.
“Maybe we’ll even…”
Ten, nine, eight…
“…live a better life.” Seven, six, five…
“I could actually love you…” he whispered, with all the strength he had left, as much as his fading heart would allow him.
Four, three, two…
Seungri was suicidal, and his boundaries had broken down.
Jiyong was delusional. He put away the needle, wrapped his arms around the fading warmth of Seungri’s body, and hoped to wake up and find Seungri sleeping contently beside him.
One.
~
a/n: gahhh yes, i apologize for the suckyness T___T. its rushed, i know it is, you know it is, so go ahead and critisize, this fic deserved it anyway D;. haha...
Pairing: g-ri
Rating: R (swearing, dark themes)
Word Count: 1391
a/n: wow, so, this was a fail (as i say with every single fic i write. when will i be satisfied with one?!) i wrote this in an hour, started at 2am, and now its 3am. i wrote it so fast cause i feel my absence from g-ri became too great D; and so, the result: a quick fic. enjoy?
He was suicidal. But to an extent.
The pressure of the blade against his skin wasn’t enough to snap those fragile strings of blue and green, the sky and the trees, the red of a decaying animal, the blood inside those tubes that could burst out if only there was more pressure. The veins of his life.
He was suicidal, but he would never dare to actually cut the strings.
~
He was delusional, but only to the extent reality would allow.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would feel the cold metal press against his temple and he would hear the pull of the trigger, sounding with a click bigger than the small room, ringing in his ears and a snap like he’d been awaken from a hypnosis, air entering his lungs in such a short, almost non-existent, stagnated way that threatened to lead him to choke on it. Then reality faded in and suddenly his life wasn’t on the line anymore.
A cold sweat trickled down his temple, as cold as that metal he thought he felt, and he reached for the joint on his nightstand, and then reality was just a hallucination.
~
“Romeo’s just a love sick dumb ass, and Juliet’s no different. Yeah, young and naïve.”
“Um, yeah, who are you?”
“Guess a good tragedy brings around a good moral.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Well, this one sure did. Or so everyone believes. They just pull out whatever interpretations they want from their asses and suddenly it becomes a life lesson---“
“When really it could just be a load of bull.”
“…yeah, right. Exactly.”
They were sitting in the far back seats of the auditorium, watching a rehearsal going on. Jiyong was the intruder, Seungri didn’t know if he minded his company or not.
He was going to ask the intruder for his name, but when he turned in the other’s direction, the blonde headed boy was already turning the corner of the exit.
~
“You know, you can tell a lot about a person from the coffee they drink.”
Seungri looked up from his iPod and there was a flash of blonde hair before it settled itself beside him on the small sofa chair he was in.
“Uh, yeah, are you stalking me?” he was only half joking.
“Wow, I see you like yours black.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I don’t even know you so get your mouth away from my coffee.”
“Hey.”
“What?”
This boy, blonde and young, eyes wide and pupils dilated with heavy bags beneath, hollow cheeks and skin as pale as the walls of an asylum, and Seungri wondered how nicely his blood would look against such insipid skin. He wondered how easily the flesh would slice, and how vibrant the ruby red liquid would contrast with white.
And then Jiyong kissed him on the mouth.
~
“We are so fucked up.”
“No, we just have different ways with dealing with our problems.”
White powder disappeared into his nose, and Jiyong let out a satisfied sigh, wiped his nose clean.
“You’re delusional if you don’t see that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Well, I’d like to at least know the name of the person I just fucked.”
The whole place smelled like drugs and old take-out food. It was a place this blonde headed boy could escape to and do whatever he wanted to his satisfaction, his own little make believe paradise when really, all it was was a small one bedroom apartment that was rotting away like the insides of its resident. The curtains closed out the world outside, but the television settled as a replacement for it.
“Jiyong.”
He had his face nuzzled in white, and Seungri just starred at the muscles of his back as they contracted with each intake, the milky smooth skin stretching around protruding bones like dough and his hands had the urge to kneed it. Jiyong. It sounded like the name of a boy who could be living a better life, with a nice girlfriend whom he loved, a family that still cared. It was the name of a boy who fucked his life up so fast he didn’t even see it happening, the name of the boy who lost the girl he loved and the family that cared.
Seungri reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small one inch razor blade.
“Hey, stay still for a moment, yeah?”
Jiyong just nodded and set up new lines of cocaine, or maybe he was rolling a joint, Seungri didn’t really care.
He pressed the blade against the skin on Jiyong’s shoulder, watching amusedly as it slowly split and a red line was left in the trail of the blade. Blood seeped out of the wound and trickled serenely down Jiyong’s back, like a small waterfall in Seungri’s perspective. It was a beautiful sight, and it looked just as he’d pictured it.
Jiyong jumped from his spot on the bed, pushed Seungri’s hand away from his bare back, which was now a stained canvas of his own blood.
“Ya! What the fuck!”
“Wait, no, please…one more, then I’m done.”
“Are you crazy? You really think I’m just going to let you cut me again?”
“Please, just one more. I’ll leave when I’m done.” He reached forward and grasped Jiyong’s thin wrist, pulled him forward.
Jiyong was hesitant, but he wasn’t doing anything to stop Seungri from proceeding either. Seungri slid the blade against his collar bone, a long two inch cut along the bone, and Jiyong’s hand was gripping tightly at his naked shoulder and his eyes were shut in an attempt to block out the small tinge of pain. Blood slid down his chest, and Seungri quickly leaned forward to lap at the loose blood. He sucked gently on the small wound and Jiyong’s hand was lost in the boy’s hair.
He woke up the next morning, there wasn’t a scratch anywhere on the surface of his body, but Seungri was sleeping right beside him.
~
“Jiyong, I can make you better.”
“…yeah? Or is it the other way around?”
“Either way, we can make each other better.”
“I could fall in love with you, and we could be lovers if we wanted, too.”
“Yeah, I guess we could.”
He was sitting on the floor beside the bed, and Jiyong was burning something in a spoon as he was laying in the bundle of pillows. Seungri had a pocket knife in his hand, and he was pressing it against his wrist, sliding it one way, then repeating the gesture on untouched surfaces of his skin. Today wasn’t his day, nor was it his father’s either, and the bruises that marred his face proved it.
“If we give it time, I’d be able to say ‘I love you’ and mean it.”
Jiyong trailed off, into a dream like state, whether it be from the liquid that was spreading slowly through his veins or maybe he was actually considering things, it put a small, unsure smile on his face.
Seungri slid the knife, and thoughts of running away with Jiyong, away from an abusive father and a shitty family occupied his mind, and suddenly there were two boys smiling skeptically in a small, gaudy apartment. The cold metal slid against his skin, and the pressure was just a little harder than normal, accidentally cut a vein and split the cord. His life began ticking away, his vision became fuzzy, and tears fell from his eyes. He began sobbing.
Jiyong heard the sobs, but he shrugged it off, I must be delusional. Suddenly, Seungri gripped his hand in his own, but Jiyong was too lost in his own world, in a state of ecstasy, he didn’t think much of it, he could barely feel the shaky hand grasping his own.
“Maybe we’ll even…”
Ten, nine, eight…
“…live a better life.” Seven, six, five…
“I could actually love you…” he whispered, with all the strength he had left, as much as his fading heart would allow him.
Four, three, two…
Seungri was suicidal, and his boundaries had broken down.
Jiyong was delusional. He put away the needle, wrapped his arms around the fading warmth of Seungri’s body, and hoped to wake up and find Seungri sleeping contently beside him.
One.
~
a/n: gahhh yes, i apologize for the suckyness T___T. its rushed, i know it is, you know it is, so go ahead and critisize, this fic deserved it anyway D;. haha...