Twenty-four hours before the end of the world
Jiyong / Seunghyun
R-NC17
AU: end of the world
Spanish translation: here, or here; thanks a lot to sunnie-coffe!
For this picture:
Twenty-four hours before the end of the world
They watch side by side as the ship takes off and pierces the dirty orange sky. Seunghyun hears Jiyong’s sight, heavy and broken.
“He’ll be fine,” he says. “Don’t worry.” He doesn’t say that Jiyong should be worrying about himself, more than about little Seungri off to his new life; they both know that already. “Let’s go,” he tells Jiyong. “I have at least twenty people to see today.”
Third time is lucky, more or less:
“I have one seat,” he’s told. “So, are you signing or not?”
Seunghyun thinks of Jiyong waiting for him behind the door, sitting all nice and clean with his hands folded in his lap, because he thinks, childishly, that it will make a difference.
“Yes,” Seunghyun says. “I’m signing.”
“Give it to Daesung,” Jiyong says, categorical.
“It’s for you,” Seunghyun argues.
“I don’t want it. Please,” Jiyong begs. “Give it to Daesung.”
Seunghyun pushes him in a corner and kisses him until their lips hurt and they’re both out of breath.
“I love you so much,” he whispers in his ear.
They spend the rest of the day walking into offices together, hand in hand. Everywhere they get denied. Jiyong squeezes his fingers hard and Seunghyun thumb brushes his knuckles.
The sun more or less sets, but they’re still an angry reddish glow weighting on the scenery.
When Daesung goes, neither of them cries. Daesung does. He hugs them and says: “thank you, thank you,” over and over; they hug him back, Seunghyun says: “good luck” and Jiyong kisses his cheek brusquely.
They don’t watch the ship go.
They have people to see.
“Last ship to departure,” the metallic voice rings in the corridor. “Everybody on b-”
The voice of the speaker breaks. Seunghyun wonders if she committed any crime to be left here or if she’s just like them, a poor unlucky girl who got forgotten amongst billions of other names.
Next to him Jiyong chokes and he holds him, holds him tight and breathes his familiar scent, thinks for now they’re both still alive.
The refugees, as they’re ironically called, all get down to the basement of the building. Seunghyun thinks it’s just another way to delay their inevitable death, and he stands with Jiyong for as long as they can, watching the incoming catastrophe behind the glass panels. It’s burning under their open palms.
“Let’s go,” Jiyong decides.
They find themselves a nice little corner in the basement, dry and more or less clean. Jiyong spreads their useless jackets on the floor and sits here, hugging his knees. Seunghyun stands next to him and thinks other people must see him as some kind of bodyguard.
Good, he tells himself darkly.
Most of the people present here are men, unsurprisingly. The criminals have been guarded since day one in another part of the building, but still, the atmosphere is loaded with tension.
“I’m sorry…” A young woman approaches them. “I’m- I’m alone and I’m scared, can I please-”
“Sure,” Jiyong tells her. “Please, sit with us. I’m Jiyong, and this is Seunghyun.”
“Minji,” she introduces herself. “Thank you so much.”
Seunghyun is actually grateful to see her here, she distracts Jiyong by chatting with him of things he likes and for a while it’s almost normal.
“Why are you here?” Jiyong asks. “Didn’t you get a pass?”
“Ah,” she says, “No. You see, I have a cancer, so…”
And they both understand.
“Two hours,” someone says in a microphone. There’s a collective intake of breath. Seunghyun sees a lot of men praying. He wishes he had some kind of deity to rely to. Minji closes her eyes. Jiyong slips his fingers into Seunghyun’s palm.
“Hey, you,” he whispers. “I want to be with you.”
Seunghyun stares at him and squeezes his hand. “Yeah,” he answers. “Me too.”
At one point the lights go off, because the air conditioners need all of the remaining power.
“You’re lucky,” Seunghyun hears Minji mutter. “You two are together.”
He finds his shoulder in the dark and presses gently. “You’re with us now,” he says.
“Seunghyun,” Jiyong whispers in his ear. “I think I want you. Now.”
Seunghyun thinks rapidly, then pats Minji on the arm and she says: “Go, I’m covering for you.” He thinks he can hear amusement in her voice.
He props Jiyong against the wall and smiles almost despite himself when he feels legs wrapping around his waist.
“You’ll have to be silent,” he murmurs. Jiyong nibs at his earlobe. Seunghyun slips his hand underneath his clothes and feels his skin, caresses his nipples and his salient ribs and the curve of his collarbone.
He takes him as gently as he can but still he hears Jiyong’s gasp of pain and strokes a hand in his hair, on his cheek. When he starts moving it’s too good to be real, not now and not like this, but it’s true, though. It’s hot and burning and intense and terrifying because Seunghyun kisses Jiyong, eats his lips with his open mouth, and tastes salt. He strokes Jiyong’s cock then, wants to give him at least that, and feels him come in his fist, his mouth opening on a silent cry.
“Stay,” Jiyong whispers. “Please, stay like this. Just-”
“I’m here,” Seunghyun tells him. “I’m not leaving.”
He hasn’t come yet but he doesn’t think he wants to, not if it means letting go. Here he feels like he’s still got a role to play. Jiyong, though, Jiyong arches his back to have him deeper in him and Seunghyun chokes a bit.
“Sit down,” he hears in the crease of his neck. “Let me.”
With his back to the concrete and Jiyong in his lap, arms twined around his neck, everything feels too good, and is over too fast, and Seunghyun comes sobbing for air and freedom.
“Shh,” Jiyong soothes, mouthing at his tears. “It’s okay, we’re together, it’s- it matters, right?”
Trust him to be insecure about their relationship at the most inappropriate moments.
“Yeah,” Seunghyun says. He swallows. “We’re together.”
They spend a moment leaning on each other, whispering little nonsense like they used to before and kissing a bit, and eventually they straighten their clothes up even if it’s not really important, and scoot back to Minji.
Seunghyun hears her smile in the dark. “I didn’t hear a thing,” she says. “Very discrete.”
Jiyong stays in the circle of his arms, back against Seunghyun’s chest, and she leans against his shoulder. He extends an arm to bring her closer, suddenly in a need for affection and contact.
“Ten minutes,” the voice says.
They tense in his hold so Seunghyun rocks them gently against him; it’s as much for him as for them.
“I’m scared,” Minji whispers.
“Me too,” he says. “It’s okay.”
Jiyong doesn’t say anything, turns back towards him and buries his face in his neck. Seunghyun knows he’s crying. He kisses his hair, and Minji’s, and holds them both close to him.
Some things matter, and others don’t, and he doesn’t really know how to classify this.