#089. Drinking
On Rainy Days
#089. Drinking, Kikwang/Hyunseung
Fic: 2/100
A/N: I wrote this waaaayyy back, but never got around to posting it.
~~
It was raining again.
Raining and everything was silent, painted in muted shades of gray. The raindrops fell straight down, into the opened mouths of proud tiger lilies and between the striped petals of delicate carnations, forcing the flowers to bend over from accumulated weight.
Kikwang watched it, just for a moment, observing the elegant form of curved stalks and wavering leaves, before closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window with a sigh. Soon the silence gave way to the sounds of soft breathing and the quiet rhythm of the rain, soothing, yet antagonizing because of what it meant, what it brought.
He felt the other rather than heard Hyunseung behind him and though he was tired, just so tired, he still smiled when he felt fingers skimming the sides of his waist and lips brushing the back of his neck.
“Hey,” he murmured, a ghost of a voice because any louder would break their delicate balance, their agreement of things not said and thoughts not shown.
“Hi,” Hyunseung greeted back and his voice was soft, sensual, curling around his ear and running up his spine. “Did you miss me?”
Kikwang opened his eyes at that question and stared blankly out the window before turning to face the other man. And just for a second, he couldn’t speak because it got to him every time, his beauty. He was almost like a doll, delicate and demure with curling locks in the fiery orange of the setting sun and doe like eyes make from the swirling chocolate and caramel. And he was always pale, so, so pale he almost blended into the simple white shirt he was wearing.
“I shouldn’t miss you,” Kikwang finally answered when he found his voice again, but even as he said it, his hands found their way around the red head’s, fingers intertwining in a familiar arrangement. “I’m not supposed to miss you.”
“But you do,” Hyunseung said knowingly, a small smile playing on his lips and the shorter man hated that slight curve, hated how it seemed to be mocking him, hated how it seemed to be telling him everything he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He hated it, so instead, he leaned closer and chuckled, their noses bumping lightly. “No,” he smirked, “I really don’t,” before pressing their lips together in something light and whimsical, a fleeting touch like the flutter of butterfly wings.
~
It was raining again.
Only a light drizzle misting over the garden outside and caressing the silky skin of white tulips and equally fair tuberoses.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered and Hyunseung chuckled, snuggling closer in his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured him, leaning up for a quick kiss. And the way he was looking at him, eyes like the warm ocean, pulling, tugging, drowning him made Kikwang want to believe him. But he knew better, knew from all those times before, so when he smiled, something that was supposed to comfort the shorter man, calm him, he felt no change in the dead weight in his stomach, a reminder of sorts or perhaps a warning.
“You know I hate it when you lie.” And he was supposed to be offended, supposed to be angry, supposed to be insulted at the words that came out a little too quiet, a little too soft, a little too accusing. Instead, Hyunseung merely laughed again, the chimes of silver bells in his ears, and glanced out the window, his fingers lightly tracing the strange patterns of raindrops chasing each other across the glass.
“The rain’s going to stop soon,” he said vaguely and Kikwang closed his eyes at the statement, wishing it would all end just a bit sooner, just a little quicker.
~
It was raining again.
An insistent downpour that hammered against the windows and abused the resilient marigolds and deep violet lilacs that lined their fence.
There was a tension in the air, sharp, but familiar, and he really didn’t want to go through this again--this show, this act, this repetition of motions he knew all too well. Yet Kikwang couldn’t stop himself from looking up when the other man entered the room, hair slightly damp from a trip he didn’t want to know about and cheeks colored red from winds that echoed his sentiment.
“Where were you?” he asked and it was a listless question because he already knew the answer and he had neither the strength nor desire to deal with his reaction.
“Does it matter?” Hyunseung said coolly, and Kikwang couldn’t stop the spark of anger that lit inside of him although he had expected this, had experienced this, the frostiness, the dismissive tone.
“Considering we’re engaged and you seem to have a tendency to disappear for large amounts of time without explanation, yes, I do believe it matters,” he hissed, fists clenched and nails digging into the palm of his hand.
Hyunseung turned to him calmly, raising a brow, and he flinched because his eyes were icy and biting like winter frost crawling up his skin. “Are you accusing me of something?” the red head questioned quietly.
And in his head he was shouting yes, yes because of the taste of cigarettes lingering on his lips when he kissed him, yes because of the fading scent of a stranger’s cologne on his clothes when he hugged him, yes because of the unhidden bite mark that painted his collar bone when he swept away his hair.
Yes, yes, yes, but when he opened his mouth, a weak, “No,” came out and Kikwang had to look away because Hyunseung’s petal pink lips twisted into something knowing, something mocking, reminding him of how weak he was, how useless he was. Pathetic because he hadn’t been able to hold on to the one thing that had meant everything to him.
“I didn’t think so,” he said and her voice reminded him of icicles, jagged and unforgiving, leaving lasting scars as she left the room.
~
It was raining again.
An angry thunderstorm with raindrops sharp enough to tear off the delicate flowers of whimpering hyacinths and quivering orange mocks that ran along the border of their home.
The thunder hid the sound of his suitcase thudding down the stairs, but the lightening only illuminated him as he passed Kikwang like the shorter man didn’t exist, chocolate eyes focused, harder than diamonds, and head held high, proud, strong.
“Where are you going?” he asked sharply, grabbing Hyusneung’s wrist. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known this was coming, as if he hadn’t been expecting it, but that didn’t stop the painful twist in his stomach when he brushed his hand off and looked up at him impassively.
“I’m leaving,” Hyunseung said and his tone was patronizing, dismissive, winding around his heart and pulling tighter, tighter, tighter.
“No you’re not,” he said immediately and Kikwang wasn’t necessarily angry, no, just lost, desperate, vulnerable because everything was unraveling again and he knew what was going to happen to next, what he couldn’t stop, no matter how many times he tried, how many times he repeated it.
“Are you going to stop me?” the older man challenged, taking a step closer to him. And He was never more beautiful than that moment, his hair like a halo of fire against his fair skin and his eyes swirling like the storm outside, dark and angry.
“If I have to.” Underneath the serious tone, there was a deadly promise, dark and lethal, and Kikwang could tell he heard it by the way his shoulders stiffened. Because even though everything was falling apart, slipping away, just as he had known, expected, accepted, he couldn’t stop himself from trying one last time. One last attempt in hopes that this time, something would change; this time, the ending would be different; this time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. But hope was only hope and it had no place in their twisted fairytale of rainy days and weeping blossoms.
“You’ve failed all those times before,” Hyunseung said quietly, never looking away from him. It was almost like he was asking a silent question, something Kikwang couldn’t quite catch, couldn’t quite understand. “This time will be no different.”
“You don’t know that,” Kikwang argued, grabbing his arm. “It could work out this time!”
“It’s not going to.” There was a tired sort of smile on his lips and the way he seemed so defeated, so weary, so drained, only served to make the shorter man angry.
Kikwang’s hand tightened instinctively, fingers digging into pale skin, and he forcefully yanked the taller man against him. However, any pain he felt found no place on delicate features and Hyunseung merely blinked at their proximity.
“It will this time,” Kikwang insisted, unintentionally shaking him a bit, “It will!” He was desperate and desperation was a dangerous thing, volatile and unpredictable, causing blue and purple marks to bloom on unmarred surfaces. He was desperate and the fact that the red head was perfectly calm, unafraid, undisturbed, even as he literally crushed his arm in his grip, was getting to him, getting to him in a way that he couldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend. All he knew was that he had to get Hyunseung to stay, because getting him to stay would put an end to this vicious cycle of words and actions, all too familiar and this cruel, elaborate performance of lines repeated one too many times.
“It won’t, so let me go.” And he wasn’t necessarily challenging Kikwang anymore, but somehow that was worse, so much worse that the shorter man almost wanted to stop everything and just beg, beg him not to leave, beg him to stay by his side. But what he wanted to do and what he actually did were never in sync, so instead, he slapped the older man across the face, letting him go only so he could fall to the floor from the force of that strike
“Don’t say that,” Kikwang hissed, towering over him. “You don’t know that!” And as he looked up at him, cheek slowly coloring red, Hyunseung started laughing and it was the sound of breaking glass, sharp and jagged, digging into him.
“You are pathetic,” he said and Kikwang knew it, knew it all too well, but hearing him say it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed. “Utterly pathetic.” He laughed again and it echoed in his head, pushing him, pressing him, forcing him over an edge he was much too aware of, one that he had been ignoring, but suddenly became too real as he teetered on the brink.
“Stop it,” he gasped almost stumbling to the ground. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” And he wasn’t too sure what happened next, he never would be, but the vague impressions lasted in his memory, flashes of crimson red, the brush of silky skin beneath his fingertips, and his laughter, sweet yet cruel, forever dancing in his mind.
But forever didn’t exist, shouldn’t exist, so eventually even his voice faded, giving way to the sound of his frantic sobs and the storm still looming outside
“I’m sorry,” Kikwang whispered, reaching out to stroke his ashen cheeks, but apologizes had no place between harsh, blinding flashes of lightening and cruel, deafening claps of thunder. “I’m so sorry.”
~
It was cloudy.
It was cold, desolate, gray, and he didn’t know if he wanted it to rain or not. He might have been a little drunk, just a little tipsy, but he wasn’t too sure. All he could do was stare at the spring of forget-me-nots in his hand, fingers tracing over silky petals.
“Four months,” Kikwang murmured absently to himself. “It’s been four months.”
“Do you miss him?”
He jumped, broken out of his reverie, and looked up at his drinking partner, his friend who was taking a sip from his glass tumbler and watching him carefully.
“Do you?” his friend repeated when he was met with a blank look.
“No,” the smaller man answered with a small shake of his head and an undecipherable smile. He twirled the flowers around once before dropping them on the table and reaching for his own glass. “I don’t.”
And the look his friend gave him told him that he didn’t quite believe it, that he didn’t quite trust what he was saying.
“I really don’t” he insisted softly as he glanced out the window. Vibrant poppies swayed gently to the sound of silent music and for a moment, just a second, Kikwang was reminded of him, bright and lively, and he knew it was going to rain soon. “It’s just…the memories are still a bit sharp and the rainy days…they don’t help.”
His friend nodded knowingly and clasped him in the back. It was friendly, it was sympathetic, and it was unnecessary because he didn’t understand, wouldn’t understand. “If he’s haunting you, it means you still miss him.”
And Kikwang wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement because it wasn’t about missing him, it never was. It was something else, a one act play with no ending, a haunting melody that never finished. It was something intangible, something twisted, something no one else could comprehend.
“No, it just means he’s punishing me.” And he quickly gulped down whatever was left in his glass before the first raindrop fell.
~
It was raining again.
Raining and everything was silent, painted in muted shades of gray. The raindrops fell straight down, into the opened mouths of proud tiger lilies and between the striped petals of delicate carnations, forcing the flowers to bend over from accumulated weight.
Kikwang watched it, just for a moment, observing the elegant form of curved stalks and wavering leaves, before closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window with a sigh. Soon the silence gave way to the sounds of soft breathing and the quiet rhythm of the rain, soothing, yet antagonizing because of what it meant, what it brought.
He felt the other rather than heard Hyunseung behind him and though he was tired, just so tired, he still smiled when he felt fingers skimming the sides of his waist and lips brushing the back of his neck.
“Hey,” he murmured, a ghost of a voice because any louder would break their delicate balance, their agreement of things not said and thoughts not shown.
“Hi,” Hyunseung greeted back and his voice was soft, sensual, curling around his ear and running up his spine. “Did you miss me?”
#089. Drinking, Kikwang/Hyunseung
Fic: 2/100
A/N: I wrote this waaaayyy back, but never got around to posting it.
~~
It was raining again.
Raining and everything was silent, painted in muted shades of gray. The raindrops fell straight down, into the opened mouths of proud tiger lilies and between the striped petals of delicate carnations, forcing the flowers to bend over from accumulated weight.
Kikwang watched it, just for a moment, observing the elegant form of curved stalks and wavering leaves, before closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window with a sigh. Soon the silence gave way to the sounds of soft breathing and the quiet rhythm of the rain, soothing, yet antagonizing because of what it meant, what it brought.
He felt the other rather than heard Hyunseung behind him and though he was tired, just so tired, he still smiled when he felt fingers skimming the sides of his waist and lips brushing the back of his neck.
“Hey,” he murmured, a ghost of a voice because any louder would break their delicate balance, their agreement of things not said and thoughts not shown.
“Hi,” Hyunseung greeted back and his voice was soft, sensual, curling around his ear and running up his spine. “Did you miss me?”
Kikwang opened his eyes at that question and stared blankly out the window before turning to face the other man. And just for a second, he couldn’t speak because it got to him every time, his beauty. He was almost like a doll, delicate and demure with curling locks in the fiery orange of the setting sun and doe like eyes make from the swirling chocolate and caramel. And he was always pale, so, so pale he almost blended into the simple white shirt he was wearing.
“I shouldn’t miss you,” Kikwang finally answered when he found his voice again, but even as he said it, his hands found their way around the red head’s, fingers intertwining in a familiar arrangement. “I’m not supposed to miss you.”
“But you do,” Hyunseung said knowingly, a small smile playing on his lips and the shorter man hated that slight curve, hated how it seemed to be mocking him, hated how it seemed to be telling him everything he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He hated it, so instead, he leaned closer and chuckled, their noses bumping lightly. “No,” he smirked, “I really don’t,” before pressing their lips together in something light and whimsical, a fleeting touch like the flutter of butterfly wings.
~
It was raining again.
Only a light drizzle misting over the garden outside and caressing the silky skin of white tulips and equally fair tuberoses.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered and Hyunseung chuckled, snuggling closer in his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured him, leaning up for a quick kiss. And the way he was looking at him, eyes like the warm ocean, pulling, tugging, drowning him made Kikwang want to believe him. But he knew better, knew from all those times before, so when he smiled, something that was supposed to comfort the shorter man, calm him, he felt no change in the dead weight in his stomach, a reminder of sorts or perhaps a warning.
“You know I hate it when you lie.” And he was supposed to be offended, supposed to be angry, supposed to be insulted at the words that came out a little too quiet, a little too soft, a little too accusing. Instead, Hyunseung merely laughed again, the chimes of silver bells in his ears, and glanced out the window, his fingers lightly tracing the strange patterns of raindrops chasing each other across the glass.
“The rain’s going to stop soon,” he said vaguely and Kikwang closed his eyes at the statement, wishing it would all end just a bit sooner, just a little quicker.
~
It was raining again.
An insistent downpour that hammered against the windows and abused the resilient marigolds and deep violet lilacs that lined their fence.
There was a tension in the air, sharp, but familiar, and he really didn’t want to go through this again--this show, this act, this repetition of motions he knew all too well. Yet Kikwang couldn’t stop himself from looking up when the other man entered the room, hair slightly damp from a trip he didn’t want to know about and cheeks colored red from winds that echoed his sentiment.
“Where were you?” he asked and it was a listless question because he already knew the answer and he had neither the strength nor desire to deal with his reaction.
“Does it matter?” Hyunseung said coolly, and Kikwang couldn’t stop the spark of anger that lit inside of him although he had expected this, had experienced this, the frostiness, the dismissive tone.
“Considering we’re engaged and you seem to have a tendency to disappear for large amounts of time without explanation, yes, I do believe it matters,” he hissed, fists clenched and nails digging into the palm of his hand.
Hyunseung turned to him calmly, raising a brow, and he flinched because his eyes were icy and biting like winter frost crawling up his skin. “Are you accusing me of something?” the red head questioned quietly.
And in his head he was shouting yes, yes because of the taste of cigarettes lingering on his lips when he kissed him, yes because of the fading scent of a stranger’s cologne on his clothes when he hugged him, yes because of the unhidden bite mark that painted his collar bone when he swept away his hair.
Yes, yes, yes, but when he opened his mouth, a weak, “No,” came out and Kikwang had to look away because Hyunseung’s petal pink lips twisted into something knowing, something mocking, reminding him of how weak he was, how useless he was. Pathetic because he hadn’t been able to hold on to the one thing that had meant everything to him.
“I didn’t think so,” he said and her voice reminded him of icicles, jagged and unforgiving, leaving lasting scars as she left the room.
~
It was raining again.
An angry thunderstorm with raindrops sharp enough to tear off the delicate flowers of whimpering hyacinths and quivering orange mocks that ran along the border of their home.
The thunder hid the sound of his suitcase thudding down the stairs, but the lightening only illuminated him as he passed Kikwang like the shorter man didn’t exist, chocolate eyes focused, harder than diamonds, and head held high, proud, strong.
“Where are you going?” he asked sharply, grabbing Hyusneung’s wrist. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known this was coming, as if he hadn’t been expecting it, but that didn’t stop the painful twist in his stomach when he brushed his hand off and looked up at him impassively.
“I’m leaving,” Hyunseung said and his tone was patronizing, dismissive, winding around his heart and pulling tighter, tighter, tighter.
“No you’re not,” he said immediately and Kikwang wasn’t necessarily angry, no, just lost, desperate, vulnerable because everything was unraveling again and he knew what was going to happen to next, what he couldn’t stop, no matter how many times he tried, how many times he repeated it.
“Are you going to stop me?” the older man challenged, taking a step closer to him. And He was never more beautiful than that moment, his hair like a halo of fire against his fair skin and his eyes swirling like the storm outside, dark and angry.
“If I have to.” Underneath the serious tone, there was a deadly promise, dark and lethal, and Kikwang could tell he heard it by the way his shoulders stiffened. Because even though everything was falling apart, slipping away, just as he had known, expected, accepted, he couldn’t stop himself from trying one last time. One last attempt in hopes that this time, something would change; this time, the ending would be different; this time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. But hope was only hope and it had no place in their twisted fairytale of rainy days and weeping blossoms.
“You’ve failed all those times before,” Hyunseung said quietly, never looking away from him. It was almost like he was asking a silent question, something Kikwang couldn’t quite catch, couldn’t quite understand. “This time will be no different.”
“You don’t know that,” Kikwang argued, grabbing his arm. “It could work out this time!”
“It’s not going to.” There was a tired sort of smile on his lips and the way he seemed so defeated, so weary, so drained, only served to make the shorter man angry.
Kikwang’s hand tightened instinctively, fingers digging into pale skin, and he forcefully yanked the taller man against him. However, any pain he felt found no place on delicate features and Hyunseung merely blinked at their proximity.
“It will this time,” Kikwang insisted, unintentionally shaking him a bit, “It will!” He was desperate and desperation was a dangerous thing, volatile and unpredictable, causing blue and purple marks to bloom on unmarred surfaces. He was desperate and the fact that the red head was perfectly calm, unafraid, undisturbed, even as he literally crushed his arm in his grip, was getting to him, getting to him in a way that he couldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend. All he knew was that he had to get Hyunseung to stay, because getting him to stay would put an end to this vicious cycle of words and actions, all too familiar and this cruel, elaborate performance of lines repeated one too many times.
“It won’t, so let me go.” And he wasn’t necessarily challenging Kikwang anymore, but somehow that was worse, so much worse that the shorter man almost wanted to stop everything and just beg, beg him not to leave, beg him to stay by his side. But what he wanted to do and what he actually did were never in sync, so instead, he slapped the older man across the face, letting him go only so he could fall to the floor from the force of that strike
“Don’t say that,” Kikwang hissed, towering over him. “You don’t know that!” And as he looked up at him, cheek slowly coloring red, Hyunseung started laughing and it was the sound of breaking glass, sharp and jagged, digging into him.
“You are pathetic,” he said and Kikwang knew it, knew it all too well, but hearing him say it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed. “Utterly pathetic.” He laughed again and it echoed in his head, pushing him, pressing him, forcing him over an edge he was much too aware of, one that he had been ignoring, but suddenly became too real as he teetered on the brink.
“Stop it,” he gasped almost stumbling to the ground. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” And he wasn’t too sure what happened next, he never would be, but the vague impressions lasted in his memory, flashes of crimson red, the brush of silky skin beneath his fingertips, and his laughter, sweet yet cruel, forever dancing in his mind.
But forever didn’t exist, shouldn’t exist, so eventually even his voice faded, giving way to the sound of his frantic sobs and the storm still looming outside
“I’m sorry,” Kikwang whispered, reaching out to stroke his ashen cheeks, but apologizes had no place between harsh, blinding flashes of lightening and cruel, deafening claps of thunder. “I’m so sorry.”
~
It was cloudy.
It was cold, desolate, gray, and he didn’t know if he wanted it to rain or not. He might have been a little drunk, just a little tipsy, but he wasn’t too sure. All he could do was stare at the spring of forget-me-nots in his hand, fingers tracing over silky petals.
“Four months,” Kikwang murmured absently to himself. “It’s been four months.”
“Do you miss him?”
He jumped, broken out of his reverie, and looked up at his drinking partner, his friend who was taking a sip from his glass tumbler and watching him carefully.
“Do you?” his friend repeated when he was met with a blank look.
“No,” the smaller man answered with a small shake of his head and an undecipherable smile. He twirled the flowers around once before dropping them on the table and reaching for his own glass. “I don’t.”
And the look his friend gave him told him that he didn’t quite believe it, that he didn’t quite trust what he was saying.
“I really don’t” he insisted softly as he glanced out the window. Vibrant poppies swayed gently to the sound of silent music and for a moment, just a second, Kikwang was reminded of him, bright and lively, and he knew it was going to rain soon. “It’s just…the memories are still a bit sharp and the rainy days…they don’t help.”
His friend nodded knowingly and clasped him in the back. It was friendly, it was sympathetic, and it was unnecessary because he didn’t understand, wouldn’t understand. “If he’s haunting you, it means you still miss him.”
And Kikwang wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement because it wasn’t about missing him, it never was. It was something else, a one act play with no ending, a haunting melody that never finished. It was something intangible, something twisted, something no one else could comprehend.
“No, it just means he’s punishing me.” And he quickly gulped down whatever was left in his glass before the first raindrop fell.
~
It was raining again.
Raining and everything was silent, painted in muted shades of gray. The raindrops fell straight down, into the opened mouths of proud tiger lilies and between the striped petals of delicate carnations, forcing the flowers to bend over from accumulated weight.
Kikwang watched it, just for a moment, observing the elegant form of curved stalks and wavering leaves, before closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window with a sigh. Soon the silence gave way to the sounds of soft breathing and the quiet rhythm of the rain, soothing, yet antagonizing because of what it meant, what it brought.
He felt the other rather than heard Hyunseung behind him and though he was tired, just so tired, he still smiled when he felt fingers skimming the sides of his waist and lips brushing the back of his neck.
“Hey,” he murmured, a ghost of a voice because any louder would break their delicate balance, their agreement of things not said and thoughts not shown.
“Hi,” Hyunseung greeted back and his voice was soft, sensual, curling around his ear and running up his spine. “Did you miss me?”