[school 2013] tell me we'll never get used to it
Title: tell me we'll never get used to it
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1460
Spoilers: Through episode 7.
Warning: If you've seen the drama, you should know what to expect. If you haven't, this fic isn't going to make very much sense, but please see this.
Summary: Elementary school kids, both too tall for their age. Both mistaken for hooligans often enough that eventually they grew into the word and became exactly what everyone had thought they were. Miscreants. Troublemakers. Best friends. (Heungsoo/Namsoon )
tell me we'll never get used to it
✫ ✫ ✫
"I'm okay,” Heungsoo had said with a smile, hand tight on Namsoon's shoulder. I'm not, Namsoon had wanted to reply. He remembers Heungsoo's arms tight around his waist after last week's game. The hat trick that had left him as happy as stealing a week's worth of allowance from a vending machine once did. The praise from their school's soccer coach that had twisted something inside of Heungsoo and taught him to smile even when there wasn't food in his mouth or pursuers on their tail. Even when there weren't a handful of students forking over their lunch money and offering to buy them all the latest magazines, cigarettes, and melon bread.
Heungsoo smiles and Namsoon remembers the heavy weight of Heungsoo's breath down his neck after they'd beaten a particularly vicious rival gang in the area. Namsoon remembers carrying Heungsoo home, hands intertwined. "You're not carrying me," he'd said, limping, "I'm just tired."
"Yeah?" Namsoon had wheezed, ribs still twinging. "Shut up."
Heungsoo had leaned forward and whispered hotly, "make me." And Namsoon had lost control of his steps, already precarious on the narrow, graveled hill, and fallen down, Heungsoo on top of him, and right then and there with Heungsoo's hip digging into Namsoon's stomach and their arms and legs tangled and Heungsoo's knees sliding between Namsoon's thighs, Namsoon almost had. Almost--
"I'm okay," and Heungsoo drops his fists and closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Namsoon could make this quick. He should. Heungsoo is his best friend, and they'd talked about his leaving before broaching it with the other boys. They'd couched it in explanations, in entreaties. But at the end of the day, a rule was a rule. You join the family by proving your mettle. You leave the family only through punishment.
This was Heungsoo's.
Namsoon throws the first punch. It's his right as jjang. He probably throws the next fifteen. It's definitely him who starts kicking, who watches Heungsoo sink to the floor and gasp when blood bubbles out of his lips against his pale, pale skin. He's not sure if the scratches along Heungsoo's arm are his fault or if the scrapes on Heungsoo's uniform are from his nails, but for some reason, fists stinging, breath short, cold biting against his cheeks, Namsoon wants them to be. He wants every bruise to remind Heungsoo of what he's leaving behind. He wants to break Heungsoo of his resolve. He wants Heungsoo to whisper I'm sorry, I was wrong. He wants this to be the end of the end. He wants this to be beginning of the beginning all over again.
You promised, Namsoon thinks, and Heungsoo had. He'd introduced himself as Park Heungsoo one day after school and Namsoon had slapped him across the face and Heungsoo had just laughed and said, "you fight good."
"You're nothing compared to my father."
Heungsoo had wiped at the side of his cheek. "Yeah? Well, you're still nothing compared to mine."
Namsoon bites his lips and kicks Heungsoo hard, and something snaps. Heungsoo gasps, the first audible admission of pain he'd made all evening, and Namsoon feels himself lose control. He leans in, grinding the sole of his sneaker against Heungsoo's knee, along the line of Heungsoo's leg, digging his heel into Heungsoo's calf. Say you're sorry, Namsoon thinks. Say you're fucking sorry.
Heungsoo had cut the initiation rites short. "You've worked hard," he'd said, brushing dirt away from Namsoon's shirt. His eyes had been bright and Namsoon had felt his chest catch. "You did well."
Heungsoo spits out a mouthful of blood, and it dribbles down his chin pathetically. "Stop."
This is not Namsoon's Heungsoo. Namsoon's Heungsoo would never have begged for anything. Not even when his father had stumbled to school and dragged him out of class and kicked him so hard he'd left bruises all the way down Heungsoo's stomach. Not even when his sister had kicked him out of the house and they'd had to sleep in tunnels under cardboard boxes for two nights. All because of Namsoon. Because Heungsoo'd made friends with a piece of trash like Go Namsoon.
The first request he'd ever made of Namsoon had been to let him go. To please, please let him go.
"Harder," he whispers, leaning in for another right hook. There's a scuffle of legs and a few more punches before Heungsoo coughs out another glob and keens.
"Holy shit," Changmin had said, voice trembling. "Holy shit. I think we really hurt him."
"That was the point," Youngwoon growls, but there's uncertainty there, and they've stopped hitting him. Heungsoo is still hunched over, and he's making the worst noises, high-pitched and breathy and Namsoon's fingers are throbbing. "Heungsoo?"
Heungsoo doesn't respond. Youngwoon takes three steps back, feet loud against the gravel, and runs. Changmin and Jungmin follow, and Heungsoo snakes a hand over to grab at Namsoon's ankles.
"Please," he whispers, and his voice is broken and scratchy and he's still gasping and Namsoon has never heard him make these kinds of noises before, has dragged him home and patched him up and told the idiot to stop flinching when he applied antiseptic and bandages and, "you are such a wuss."
"Am not." Heungsoo had picked up the first-aid kit skeptically. "Why do you even have all this shit? Scared of a few scars?"
"I told you. My dad's much scarier than anyone we fight."
"Hmmmm." Heungsoo had leaned forward and plucked the cotton swab out of Namsoon's hand and said, "leave it, I'll look more handsome with the scratches."
Namsoon had felt his ears redden. "You wish."
"Oh? You agree?"
"Heungsoo--"
Heungsoo had leaned in, just enough, just close enough that Namsoon could almost hear Heungsoo swallow. just close enough for Namsoon to--
And Heungsoo had flicked Namsoon's forehead and laughed and Namsoon had dropped the entire tube of neosporin and Heungsoo had kicked it into another room and slid fingers through Namsoon's hair and said, "idiot."
Namsoon's breath comes out shaky. "I'll call an ambulance."
Heungsoo's fingers tighten, nails digging into Namsoon's skin.
"They'll come. I can't be here when they come. You know that."
More silence. Namsoon feels his heart stop. He tries to back away but Heungsoo's hand is still on his ankle so he swallows and kicks Heungsoo in the chest one last time, one last chance at retribution, and runs when Heungsoo's arm goes slack.
He calls emergency services from a payphone three blocks away. And then, too scared to watch them come, he runs and runs and doesn't stop until he's home, until his father is moaning drunkenly from the next room, until Namsoon's heart is thudding in his chest and all he can think of is Heungsoo Heungsoo HeungsooHeungsooHeungsoo and remembers the smile on Heungsoo's face when their coach had told him he could make it professionally, he really could.
"You said you were okay," Namsoon whispers into his hands. His eyes sting and his ears are burning and there's something in his throat and his hands are shaking and, "you said you were okay."
Namsoon doesn't need anyone to tell him that this--that they will never be okay.
Heungsoo's bloody fist against the hospital window is conversation enough.
✫ ✫ ✫
"You should have let him fuck me up."
Namsoon stares, hand already fisting in Heungsoo's shirt. The gesture is almost second nature by now. "Fuck you."
"You already have. Fucked me over, that is. What's one more time?" Heungsoo leans forward and Namsoon's heart quakes. "I still have one more leg."
"You asshole."
"Punch me. One more time, Namsoon."
The bruises from Jungho's punches are still tender. It hurts to move. But Namsoon does, steps in, twists his arms against Heungsoo's skin. He could do it. One more punch, one more rift in their friendship, one more crack in the schism Namsoon created.
"Come to school, you fucker," he just whispers, letting go. The action exhausts him, body finally drained of adrenaline. "Just. Come to school."
And Heungsoo stares and doesn't say make me.
✫ ✫ ✫
It ends the way it begins. A family starts with bloodshed, with giving up everything and entrusting yourself to fists and legs and bruises you'll carry for weeks. It ends with punishment. It ends with every kick meaning more, every punch filled with the secrets you'd promised to carry to your grave.
"Do you have anything that is like soccer to me?"
Yes, Namsoon can't say, I have you.
Elementary school kids, both too tall for their age. Both mistaken for hooligans often enough that eventually they grew into the word and became exactly what everyone had thought they were. Miscreants. Troublemakers. Best friends.
Yes, Namsoon can't say, I joined you because I love you. And I couldn't let you go when you loved something else. Because Heungsoo should know. Because once upon a time, all Namsoon had ever wanted was Heungsoo to know.
Namsoon slips Heungsoo his letter requesting permission to leave school. Heungsoo laughs and hands it back. "You're pathetic."
And Namsoon doesn't say, I know.
✫ ✫ ✫
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.
Author's Note:: firstly tysm to seulpeo for watching me type this in gdocs when i paused about twenty-eight minutes into the episode (okay shut up i just couldn;t with that there's one more sentence) and capitalizing everything i couldn't be bothered to fix. ♥ ♥ ♥ secondly, fuck you so much kdrama i hate you i hate everything you have done to me and i will never be okay again. i am so sorry this is shit i just. can't. deal. with these feelings.
(title / end lines from richard siken's poem "scheherazade")
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1460
Spoilers: Through episode 7.
Warning: If you've seen the drama, you should know what to expect. If you haven't, this fic isn't going to make very much sense, but please see this.
Summary: Elementary school kids, both too tall for their age. Both mistaken for hooligans often enough that eventually they grew into the word and became exactly what everyone had thought they were. Miscreants. Troublemakers. Best friends. (Heungsoo/Namsoon )
tell me we'll never get used to it
✫ ✫ ✫
"I'm okay,” Heungsoo had said with a smile, hand tight on Namsoon's shoulder. I'm not, Namsoon had wanted to reply. He remembers Heungsoo's arms tight around his waist after last week's game. The hat trick that had left him as happy as stealing a week's worth of allowance from a vending machine once did. The praise from their school's soccer coach that had twisted something inside of Heungsoo and taught him to smile even when there wasn't food in his mouth or pursuers on their tail. Even when there weren't a handful of students forking over their lunch money and offering to buy them all the latest magazines, cigarettes, and melon bread.
Heungsoo smiles and Namsoon remembers the heavy weight of Heungsoo's breath down his neck after they'd beaten a particularly vicious rival gang in the area. Namsoon remembers carrying Heungsoo home, hands intertwined. "You're not carrying me," he'd said, limping, "I'm just tired."
"Yeah?" Namsoon had wheezed, ribs still twinging. "Shut up."
Heungsoo had leaned forward and whispered hotly, "make me." And Namsoon had lost control of his steps, already precarious on the narrow, graveled hill, and fallen down, Heungsoo on top of him, and right then and there with Heungsoo's hip digging into Namsoon's stomach and their arms and legs tangled and Heungsoo's knees sliding between Namsoon's thighs, Namsoon almost had. Almost--
"I'm okay," and Heungsoo drops his fists and closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Namsoon could make this quick. He should. Heungsoo is his best friend, and they'd talked about his leaving before broaching it with the other boys. They'd couched it in explanations, in entreaties. But at the end of the day, a rule was a rule. You join the family by proving your mettle. You leave the family only through punishment.
This was Heungsoo's.
Namsoon throws the first punch. It's his right as jjang. He probably throws the next fifteen. It's definitely him who starts kicking, who watches Heungsoo sink to the floor and gasp when blood bubbles out of his lips against his pale, pale skin. He's not sure if the scratches along Heungsoo's arm are his fault or if the scrapes on Heungsoo's uniform are from his nails, but for some reason, fists stinging, breath short, cold biting against his cheeks, Namsoon wants them to be. He wants every bruise to remind Heungsoo of what he's leaving behind. He wants to break Heungsoo of his resolve. He wants Heungsoo to whisper I'm sorry, I was wrong. He wants this to be the end of the end. He wants this to be beginning of the beginning all over again.
You promised, Namsoon thinks, and Heungsoo had. He'd introduced himself as Park Heungsoo one day after school and Namsoon had slapped him across the face and Heungsoo had just laughed and said, "you fight good."
"You're nothing compared to my father."
Heungsoo had wiped at the side of his cheek. "Yeah? Well, you're still nothing compared to mine."
Namsoon bites his lips and kicks Heungsoo hard, and something snaps. Heungsoo gasps, the first audible admission of pain he'd made all evening, and Namsoon feels himself lose control. He leans in, grinding the sole of his sneaker against Heungsoo's knee, along the line of Heungsoo's leg, digging his heel into Heungsoo's calf. Say you're sorry, Namsoon thinks. Say you're fucking sorry.
Heungsoo had cut the initiation rites short. "You've worked hard," he'd said, brushing dirt away from Namsoon's shirt. His eyes had been bright and Namsoon had felt his chest catch. "You did well."
Heungsoo spits out a mouthful of blood, and it dribbles down his chin pathetically. "Stop."
This is not Namsoon's Heungsoo. Namsoon's Heungsoo would never have begged for anything. Not even when his father had stumbled to school and dragged him out of class and kicked him so hard he'd left bruises all the way down Heungsoo's stomach. Not even when his sister had kicked him out of the house and they'd had to sleep in tunnels under cardboard boxes for two nights. All because of Namsoon. Because Heungsoo'd made friends with a piece of trash like Go Namsoon.
The first request he'd ever made of Namsoon had been to let him go. To please, please let him go.
"Harder," he whispers, leaning in for another right hook. There's a scuffle of legs and a few more punches before Heungsoo coughs out another glob and keens.
"Holy shit," Changmin had said, voice trembling. "Holy shit. I think we really hurt him."
"That was the point," Youngwoon growls, but there's uncertainty there, and they've stopped hitting him. Heungsoo is still hunched over, and he's making the worst noises, high-pitched and breathy and Namsoon's fingers are throbbing. "Heungsoo?"
Heungsoo doesn't respond. Youngwoon takes three steps back, feet loud against the gravel, and runs. Changmin and Jungmin follow, and Heungsoo snakes a hand over to grab at Namsoon's ankles.
"Please," he whispers, and his voice is broken and scratchy and he's still gasping and Namsoon has never heard him make these kinds of noises before, has dragged him home and patched him up and told the idiot to stop flinching when he applied antiseptic and bandages and, "you are such a wuss."
"Am not." Heungsoo had picked up the first-aid kit skeptically. "Why do you even have all this shit? Scared of a few scars?"
"I told you. My dad's much scarier than anyone we fight."
"Hmmmm." Heungsoo had leaned forward and plucked the cotton swab out of Namsoon's hand and said, "leave it, I'll look more handsome with the scratches."
Namsoon had felt his ears redden. "You wish."
"Oh? You agree?"
"Heungsoo--"
Heungsoo had leaned in, just enough, just close enough that Namsoon could almost hear Heungsoo swallow. just close enough for Namsoon to--
And Heungsoo had flicked Namsoon's forehead and laughed and Namsoon had dropped the entire tube of neosporin and Heungsoo had kicked it into another room and slid fingers through Namsoon's hair and said, "idiot."
Namsoon's breath comes out shaky. "I'll call an ambulance."
Heungsoo's fingers tighten, nails digging into Namsoon's skin.
"They'll come. I can't be here when they come. You know that."
More silence. Namsoon feels his heart stop. He tries to back away but Heungsoo's hand is still on his ankle so he swallows and kicks Heungsoo in the chest one last time, one last chance at retribution, and runs when Heungsoo's arm goes slack.
He calls emergency services from a payphone three blocks away. And then, too scared to watch them come, he runs and runs and doesn't stop until he's home, until his father is moaning drunkenly from the next room, until Namsoon's heart is thudding in his chest and all he can think of is Heungsoo Heungsoo HeungsooHeungsooHeungsoo and remembers the smile on Heungsoo's face when their coach had told him he could make it professionally, he really could.
"You said you were okay," Namsoon whispers into his hands. His eyes sting and his ears are burning and there's something in his throat and his hands are shaking and, "you said you were okay."
Namsoon doesn't need anyone to tell him that this--that they will never be okay.
Heungsoo's bloody fist against the hospital window is conversation enough.
✫ ✫ ✫
"You should have let him fuck me up."
Namsoon stares, hand already fisting in Heungsoo's shirt. The gesture is almost second nature by now. "Fuck you."
"You already have. Fucked me over, that is. What's one more time?" Heungsoo leans forward and Namsoon's heart quakes. "I still have one more leg."
"You asshole."
"Punch me. One more time, Namsoon."
The bruises from Jungho's punches are still tender. It hurts to move. But Namsoon does, steps in, twists his arms against Heungsoo's skin. He could do it. One more punch, one more rift in their friendship, one more crack in the schism Namsoon created.
"Come to school, you fucker," he just whispers, letting go. The action exhausts him, body finally drained of adrenaline. "Just. Come to school."
And Heungsoo stares and doesn't say make me.
✫ ✫ ✫
It ends the way it begins. A family starts with bloodshed, with giving up everything and entrusting yourself to fists and legs and bruises you'll carry for weeks. It ends with punishment. It ends with every kick meaning more, every punch filled with the secrets you'd promised to carry to your grave.
"Do you have anything that is like soccer to me?"
Yes, Namsoon can't say, I have you.
Elementary school kids, both too tall for their age. Both mistaken for hooligans often enough that eventually they grew into the word and became exactly what everyone had thought they were. Miscreants. Troublemakers. Best friends.
Yes, Namsoon can't say, I joined you because I love you. And I couldn't let you go when you loved something else. Because Heungsoo should know. Because once upon a time, all Namsoon had ever wanted was Heungsoo to know.
Namsoon slips Heungsoo his letter requesting permission to leave school. Heungsoo laughs and hands it back. "You're pathetic."
And Namsoon doesn't say, I know.
✫ ✫ ✫
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.
Author's Note:: firstly tysm to seulpeo for watching me type this in gdocs when i paused about twenty-eight minutes into the episode (okay shut up i just couldn;t with that there's one more sentence) and capitalizing everything i couldn't be bothered to fix. ♥ ♥ ♥ secondly, fuck you so much kdrama i hate you i hate everything you have done to me and i will never be okay again. i am so sorry this is shit i just. can't. deal. with these feelings.
(title / end lines from richard siken's poem "scheherazade")