The Story of Us [1/?]
Title: The Story of Us
Author: i_feel_electric & gdontop
Genre: AU Romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GTOP
Disclaimer: They will never be ours (sigh)
Warnings: Language, fluff, sexual situations
Summary: "There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the passion of life." - Federico Fellini.
They say not all who wander are lost, and that no man is an island. This is the story of Jiyong and Seunghyun. Two men brought together by chance. Two men who will change each other's lives forever.
This is the story of us.
A/N: This collab with Emily has been a long time coming. We've put a lot of work into it and we hope you enjoy reading at least half as much as we enjoyed writing it ^^
A powerful shiver ricocheted through my entire body as I leaned against the rental car and watched Youngbae argue with Lydia about where they were going to set up camp. As if Seattle in Winter wasn't fucking depressing enough, they'd had the bright idea of making the trek up to Fairbanks, Alaska because it was “so beautiful, oh my god”. I wanted to punch myself for agreeing to tag along, but Lydia had the innate talent of making everything sound more awesome than it actually was. Now that we were here all I could think about was leaving. I didn't give a shit about how majestic the mountains were or how fucking magical the snow was. I pushed my thick-rimmed glasses up my nose and sniffed, trying to burrow even further into the depths of my jacket. The only thing I cared about was making it out of the experience alive, so I could return to my adventure free life of deadlines and coffee and hating the world. There was a project I needed to finish before break was over anyway, and I couldn't very well do anything about it while I was freezing my ass off in the middle of fucking nowhere. The argument between Lydia and Bae was escalating and I rolled my eyes, gloved hand fumbling in my pockets for my pack of American Spirits. At least I could smoke. That in itself was a goddamned miracle.
“Hey guys,” I called, expelling a hazy cloud of smoke into the arctic air. “If you don't shut the fuck up and make a decision, I'm gonna die of hypothermia.”
Bae tried not to smile but failed miserably and Lydia just sighed, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Fine! We'll put the tent over there, I just wanna get this over with so I can go explore.” She shook her head and stomped towards the car, shoving me to the side so she could open the trunk.
I laughed and stumbled away, almost dropping my cigarette. Sometimes I wondered why they weren't dating, they already acted like an old married couple. Bickering and complaining and pushing each other's buttons. I wish they'd just fuck and be done with it because I was tired of the tension. The cute bullshit whenever they weren't fighting. Which was almost never. I wandered off a ways, kicking at mounds of snow with my heavy boots. Thoughts of The Ex crawled into my mind. We were like that in the beginning. Always fighting because we liked each other too much. Then we fought because we loved each other too much. And then finally because the love had vanished. On his part, anyway.
Squinting into the treeline, I shielded my eyes against the glare of the sun and took another deep drag of my cigarette. Mackenzie had been a mistake. A beautiful one, but a mistake nonetheless. I struggled against images of his dirty-blonde hair and his skin covered in permanent ink. Of eyes that rivaled the deep blue color of the Pacific. Of scruffy facial hair that tickled my chin whenever he kissed me. We had attempted to stay friends, since that's how we fell in the first place. But I knew that it wouldn't work. Not as long as I foolishly clung to his affections. Whatever though, honestly. I was fucking over it. The asshole could go rot in hell with his shitty new girlfriend and continue to take shitty photographs and get more shitty tattoos and generally just be a shitty human. Because that's what he was. Shitty. In every sense.
“Fuck this,” I whispered to myself, tossing the spent butt on the ground only to fish another one from the half-empty pack.
I watched from a distance as my two idiot friends stole glances and furtive stares while they constructed the tent. It looked like the battle had ended, for now. I would've helped them, but my overall uselessness when it came to things like this meant it was better that I didn't. Plus all the lovey-dovey crap was bound to make me vomit rainbows. So I stayed put, chain-smoking and feeling sorry for myself; two things I was exceedingly skilled at doing.
The pale sun dipped lower in the white-blue sky as morning shifted into afternoon. Lydia had abandoned us for a hiking trail not far from the campground, leaving Bae and I to wallow in the joys of having fuck-all to do. I sat huddled in my chair, lit cigarette dangling from my fingertips, forgotten, as I stared into space. The air was so cold I couldn't even feel it anymore. Just an all-encompassing numbness. And it was swiftly reaching my brain. Youngbae kept poking at the fire we'd made, chin resting in his hand.
“Why are we here again?” He mumbled, drawing patterns on the ground with the ashy end of the stick.
“Because you're pussy-whipped without the benefit of getting any pussy.”
The thwack I received to the back of my head was less effective than I'm sure he had intended due to the thickness of my fur-lined hood. Still, I sent my fist into his arm, making him yelp and come after me. Bae tackled me to the ground and strangled laughter spilled out through my clenched teeth. We hadn't done this in ages. After rolling around on the frozen earth for a few minutes half-heartedly trying to incapacitate one another, I kneed him in the stomach and threw him off. He groaned, even though he was grinning. It felt good knowing that I could still beat his ass despite being a skinny little shit. Though I was pretty sure he let me win just to avoid listening to me bitch about it afterward.
“What does that make you, then?” Youngbae smirked up at me as I helped him to his feet.
“It doesn't make me anything.” I brushed caked snow from my jeans. “I'm here for my own reasons. And if you fucking dare mention the 'M' word, I swear I will clock you in the goddamn face.”
I raised my arm, fist clenched, ready to strike in case Bae decided to press his luck. But he shielded himself and actually released a tiny whimper instead. What a dork. Something between a laugh and a sigh left my body and my shoulders slumped. I pounded him in the arm twice.
“Two for flinching, you fucker.”
Then I turned and walked away, hand already reaching for the crumpled pack in my pocket. The silent serenity of the trees mocked the tumult of my thoughts and I wondered how much longer I was going to continue lying to myself.
*
Lydia returned before dark, the white-blue sky now painted pink and orange. Her pretty face was lit up with an incandescent smile, excitement bleeding from her fingers as she stood in front of us and gushed, gestures wild and animated. I congratulated myself for managing to hide my complete and utter lack of enthusiasm.
“This place is amazing,” she nearly squealed, hot breath clouding around her head. “We should try the Granite Tors Trail tomorrow, I've heard the view is unbelievable.”
Like the good lapdog that he was, Bae agreed readily, beaming at Lydia with stars in his eyes. If I woke up tomorrow morning caught in the middle of them trying to spoon each other I was going to steal the car and leave them here. She pinned me with the brightness of her gaze, her unspoken question hanging in the frigid air. Turning her down would be like kicking a small child. I may have been an asshole but I wasn't heartless.
“What else am I gonna do, sit here and braid my hair?” I muttered, crossing my legs.
Squealing in earnest, Lydia bent down to squish my face between her covered hands and kiss me on the nose, then scampered off to put her gear away. There was a tingling in my cheeks and I knew that I was blushing. I yanked my hood further over my head so that Youngbae wouldn't see, thereby saving myself from his endless teasing. When she came back, I ignored her expression of secret victory and proceeded not to help with dinner preparations. The fact that I was tagging along tomorrow should be blessing enough. I huffed, craning my neck to look up at the stars as they melted through the twilight to flicker and pulse.
“How are classes going?” Lydia asked from around a mouthful of marshmallow fluff.
Dinner had been all but devoured and now Bae and Lydia were indulging all of their camping fantasies by stuffing themselves with s'mores. I declined the offer and settled for smoking myself into an early grave. At this rate I'd probably burn through the whole carton before the end of the week. Inhaling, I thought about how I was going to answer her without slipping into an angry tirade about administrative bullshit and unrealistic expectations from every single one of my instructors.
“They're...going.” I flicked the ash into the snow. “If my fingers don't fall off by the end of next term I'll be amazed.”
“You're still working on that huge silk-screening project, right?” Youngbae started roasting another marshmallow over the fire.
“Thank you for reminding me of how much I enjoy torturing myself.”
“It's not art if you don't suffer a little bit.”
I laughed, harsh and humorless.
“Yeah, because you know so much about suffering. All you did in school was sleep and party. Did you even open a fucking textbook once?”
“Nope.” Bae grinned at me, clearly pleased with himself.
“Fuck you.” I shook my head, pretending not to see the knowing looks exchanged between the two.
“You're almost done, get over it, Ji.”
“Not soon enough,” I mumbled and pulled myself out of the camping chair. “I'm going to sleep. Wake me up before six and you're both fucking dead.”
Snubbing out the remnants of my cigarette on the hard ground, I retreated to the tent and zipped the flap shut behind me. I could hear them talking in low tones, probably about my reprehensible attitude and how they planned on cheering me up. Honestly, I'd like to see them try. I shed my bright blue bomber jacket and folded it neatly, placing it in the corner. My heavy sweater followed suit, as well as my boots, before I crawled into my sleeping bag. Rolling onto my side, I stared blankly at the tent wall and listened to the sharp crackle of the fire outside. To the dull murmurs that filtered through the trees from other campsites. Anything to cling to so that I wouldn't have to acknowledge the tidal wave of memories lurking just beneath the surface of my thoughts. It didn't matter though, because as soon as I drifted off I dreamt of tattooed fingers combing through the messy strands of my red hair. When things were good, it had been the only way I could fall asleep.
*
Sweat was beginning to soak through both my t-shirt and my sweater under the stifling outer layer of my coat. My thighs ached and my feet were sore. The Winter chill had removed all feeling from my face. I itched for a cigarette, but breathing had become sort of an issue altogether. This was literally hell on earth.
“It just goes on forever,” Lydia murmured, pausing at the top of the trail incline to take in the spectacle of endless snow-covered hills and valleys.
“And so does this fucking trail. Are we even half way yet?”
We'd been hiking for hours. The change in altitude was making me drowsy and I sensed a headache blooming at my temples. At least the physical trauma I was inflicting upon myself was sufficient enough to keep the self-loathing at bay, because all I could focus on was the countless ways in which I wanted to dismember myself.
“Almost, I think.” She pulled out the park map from the pocket on the sleeve of her jacket and studied it for a few minutes. “We should be reaching the trail shelter in about twenty minutes, we can rest there.”
Lydia's smile was huge and I instantly regretted complaining. She was having fun. This outdoorsy shit was her thing, and I'd never quite figured out how it factored into the rest of her personality. But we were here. And I supposed I should at least try to make the most of it, even if I was forever wishing death upon every living creature in existence. I was glad that my overwhelming misery wasn't ruining this for her. Because whenever Lydia got sad it was like a permanent black raincloud hanging overhead. So I kept my mouth shut and kept moving.
When we stopped at the shelter, we passed around the small bags of food we'd brought with us and guzzled from our canisters of water. Well, their canisters. I was empty-handed because I had refused to carry anything else with me besides my wallet, my phone, and my American Spirits. Youngbae had yelled at me for being a princess and in turn, I had yelled at him for being a coward. He'd chosen not to speak to me after that. Still wasn't, in fact. He barely looked me in the eye as he perched on the edge of a bench next to Lydia. They were sitting close, knees touching, speaking to each other softly enough that I couldn't make anything out beyond the movement of their lips. It was making me sick to my stomach.
Lost in their own little world, they missed me slip off down the path on my own. And I never found out if they ever did notice because I wasn't getting any cell phone service. I doubted they would either. Plus it was better this way. They didn't need my negativity bulldozing their happy, flirtatious bubble. And I didn't need to be there to witness it happening either. Three was a terrible number, because inevitably someone was always standing on the outside. Especially if the heart was a key player. It's not that I was jealous, or hurt or what the fuck ever. It's that it conjured up the dredges of a life that was no longer mine. Like tea leaves at the bottom of the cup that wouldn't wash away. No matter how much I thought I'd moved on, the stains were still there.
I climbed through the narrow, rocky passages, unimpressed by the large granite formations and the supposedly breathtaking mountain views. The only thing I wanted to breathe right now was smoke. Tapping a cigarette out of the small yellow pack, I tucked it between my teeth and looked out into the snowy wilderness. The Pacific Northwest was a thousand times more lovely. And a thousand times less cold. It wasn't even really Winter in Seattle right now, why the fuck were they wasting precious, temperate, rainy days on this bullshit? Bored out of my mind, I sauntered off the path and decided to investigate the clustered forest of pine trees in the distance. Maybe I just needed to go and be one with nature.
“Yeah fucking right,” I snorted, grinning to myself and taking a deep drag.
Watching the curling mixture of smoke and breath as it disappeared into the white clouds, I silently begged it to carry me back home.
*
I ambled around towering trunks, their bark sticky with crystallized sap. The pungent smell of pine invaded my nostrils and for a moment I pretended I wasn't so distant from the forests of Washington. Save for my boots crunching into the crisp layers of snow or the occasional warbling cry of a bird, it was overly quiet. The hush pressed in amongst the web of skeletal branches and brittle underbrush. My thoughts were the loudest thing for miles. I stood still and lit another cigarette, the sound of metal grating against flint echoing sharply in my ears. I could hear the hiss of burning paper and dried tobacco every time that I inhaled.
The intelligent thing to do would probably be to go back to the campground. Though there were more grueling hours of pain ahead of me and I was hesitant to begin the journey. I wondered if Youngbae and Lydia had tried to find me. Or if they had already given up. I would bet money that they hadn't even cared. With an irritated huff, I followed my footprints to find the trail again. I hadn't thought I'd walked that far, but the longer I clomped onward the less I knew where the fuck I was. The cluster of pines was behind me, which meant the path should be straight ahead and to the left. Only it never appeared.
Another fifteen minutes of stumbling around bushes and dead grass and I gradually came to accept the fact that I was lost. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the park map, glaring at the little dotted trail that I was supposed to be on. There were no other markers or indicators of where it was located in relation to my current position and I scowled. Of course I didn't have a compass with me, nor could I download one from my phone. I kept staring at the map as if the solution to my problem would fucking magically appear if I waited long enough. Glancing back at the cluster of pine trees, I decided to retrace my steps a second time and see if it heralded positive results.
It didn't.
“Fuck,” I growled, folding the map again and shoving it roughly inside my jacket.
What was I supposed to do now? Wait here and die? Walking blindly off into the wilderness didn't seem like a particularly bright idea, but I was running out of options. Surely I wasn't so far off-track that someone wouldn't hear me if I shouted. So I yelled, at the top of my lungs, until the rush of oxygen from taking too many deep breaths left me woozy. Hands gripping my knees, I clenched my eyes shut and fought off a wave of dizziness. The seconds ticked by but no one came. I hesitated for as long as my patience allowed and then surrendered. There was the main park road to the North and a state highway to the West. If I didn't hit one of the trails on the way, then at least there was that.
Heaving the most frustrated sigh, I started walking.
*
Others might have found beauty in the stark landscape of Alaska in Winter. In its austerity and its grandeur. I couldn't muster the same appreciation, sentenced as I was to an eternity in its unforgiving arms. I had no concept of time, the intense cold having caused my iPhone to malfunction. And looking at the sky was no help because it was blanketed in the palest of grays.
The muscles that hadn't gone numb from the frigid temperature ached in ways I had never before experienced. Exerting myself physically only did so much to ward off the cold as my level of exhaustion rose with each mile that vanished beneath my feet. At this point I was moving forward simply because I was already in motion. Newton's Law came to mind then, sending my brain on a nonsensical journey of thought that ultimately ended in a memory of Mackenzie riding the carousel inside of the Seattle Waterfront Arcade. I'd refused to join him, even though he'd threatened to punish me (an act that was entirely ruined by the suggestive waggle of his eyebrows). Children wailed and giggled and Mackenzie had just sat atop of his plastic horse with a stoic expression on his stupidly adorable face. That is, until each revolution had brought him to where I leaned against the railing. His arms and legs had shot out at odd angles, features contorting unattractively and tongue hanging out, but every time he'd come round my heart had skipped several beats. And my cheeks had hurt from laughing. The golden glow of the carousel lights had reflected in his eyes and I remembered forgetting how to breathe.
But I also remembered the explosive argument that had occurred almost directly after. And all the countless conflicts in the days that followed. There was a bitterness clinging to my tongue as I trudged further over steep hills and rocky tundra. I no longer had the energy to fight the cruelty of memory. Of quietly sweet moments and caustic remarks. We had exchanged insults like cannonballs. Always looking for the weakest spots to inflict the most damage. I wrapped my shaking arms around my own waist, stumbling over stones and snow drifts. The temperature dropped and the brightness of the sky dimmed. My bones were frozen solid and I felt so hollow. I wished my mind was hollow too. Vulnerability was for suckers and I would never again put myself in that position if I could prevent it. I'd had enough heartache to last me a lifetime and it wasn't worth the moments of happiness because the happiness was always, always fleeting.
Darkness descended more swiftly than I'd anticipated, robbing the earth of its warmth. Or what little warmth it had been offering to my travel-worn body. I had abandoned all reason hours ago and shuffled forward merely because it seemed like the only thing I was capable of doing. If I ceased to move, it would result in my death. And if I was aware of anything then, as the subarctic air pushed the cloud cover to the edges of the horizon, it was that my sole hope for survival was to keep walking. Luckily the moon was luminous enough to help me see, making it marginally easier for me to avoid large rocks or fallen trees. My short, ragged breaths puffed out in front of me, the dissipating fog giving me something to look at besides the hypnotic motion of my boots.
A mantra formed in my head, aiding the loss of my sanity. Keep moving. Keep moving. Keep fucking moving. The repetitive words gave me something latch on to throughout the harsh Alaskan night. I didn't know how I managed not to collapse, or trip, or succumb to illness. Though I almost begged for an end to the ruthless monotony. The nothingness. The fear that I had refused to acknowledge at first, but was now unable to contain. A small part of me genuinely began to yearn for death as the night wore on. Anything to remove me from the bleak reality of my existence. I struggled not to slip into waking dreams. Hallucinations. Delirium. Madness. But the surreal quality of the moonlight that guided me through the shadowy hills made it impossible.
As the sky lightened again hours later I started hearing things. Blurred, shapeless blotches danced in my periphery and I was beginning to feel like a feral animal. My lips were blistering and peeling, my cheeks so raw I marveled that there was any skin left on my face at all. My gloved fingers had dug into the fabric of my coat and formed permanent claws because my joints were so stiff they couldn't bend back. What had I done to deserve this unending agony?
Initially, once I'd made it up another sloping hill, I thought that I had officially succumbed to the crazy. Maybe the glare of the newly-risen sun was playing tricks on my weakened eyesight, because standing out amongst the thin lines of trees and the blinding white of the snow was a structure that looked a hell of a lot like a house. But I had forgotten what buildings looked like. What humans looked like. I could barely conjure the faces of my friends. Even Mackenzie had dwindled to a vague, teasing figment of my imagination. However the possibility of that black smudge being real injected me with a new sense of purpose. Rather, enough purpose to make it down most of the hillside before my body bid me a fond “fuck you” and sent me sprawling face-first into a mound of frozen powder and into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness.