[FIC] Break (1/?) (G-ri)
Title: Break (yeah, I know, pretty creative)
Pairing: G-Ri
Rating: PG-13 for bad words
Genre: Angst
Because I can't actually finish anything I'm working on and would rather just post crap. haha.
“I'm sorry,” Jiyong states, standing expressionless in the doorway. Seungri feels like breaking something and Jiyongs's face is looking like a pretty tempting choice. He settles on a lamp instead. The light flashes and goes out, and Jiyong's eyes glitter like broken glass in the dark.
Seungri doesn't feel any better for it.
He grabs Jiyong by the collar, drags him struggling into the room. He tosses him onto the bed, a sense of dejavu flashing through him, but there's no kissing this time. No. This time he pins him to the bed and puts his weight into it. Grinds his bony palm's into the smaller man's collarbone, hears it creak dangerously under the pressure. Tries to hurt Jiyong, repay the debt just a little bit.
“Fuck you,” Seungri hisses, breath catching between clenched teeth, “Fuck you for fucking me, for fucking with me,” He pushes off hard (Jiyong gasps in pain), stumbles back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, something crunching wetly beneath his heels, slicing into flesh numbed by rage.
“I'm sorry,” Jiyong repeats, and this time he sounds like he means it, breath hitching and tense. From fear or from remorse, Seungri has no clue, doesn't give a fuck, really.
Because it just doesn't matter.
He walks to the door ignoring the shards that bury deeper into his foot and the stains he is surely leaving in the carpet. He slams open the bedroom door, pulls on his shoes. Stands panting in the doorway. Am I really going to do this?
And then he is, stomping out of the house and the apartment and Big Bang and YG family and Jiyong's fucked up little world.
He was done.
Pairing: G-Ri
Rating: PG-13 for bad words
Genre: Angst
Because I can't actually finish anything I'm working on and would rather just post crap. haha.
“I'm sorry,” Jiyong states, standing expressionless in the doorway. Seungri feels like breaking something and Jiyongs's face is looking like a pretty tempting choice. He settles on a lamp instead. The light flashes and goes out, and Jiyong's eyes glitter like broken glass in the dark.
Seungri doesn't feel any better for it.
He grabs Jiyong by the collar, drags him struggling into the room. He tosses him onto the bed, a sense of dejavu flashing through him, but there's no kissing this time. No. This time he pins him to the bed and puts his weight into it. Grinds his bony palm's into the smaller man's collarbone, hears it creak dangerously under the pressure. Tries to hurt Jiyong, repay the debt just a little bit.
“Fuck you,” Seungri hisses, breath catching between clenched teeth, “Fuck you for fucking me, for fucking with me,” He pushes off hard (Jiyong gasps in pain), stumbles back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, something crunching wetly beneath his heels, slicing into flesh numbed by rage.
“I'm sorry,” Jiyong repeats, and this time he sounds like he means it, breath hitching and tense. From fear or from remorse, Seungri has no clue, doesn't give a fuck, really.
Because it just doesn't matter.
He walks to the door ignoring the shards that bury deeper into his foot and the stains he is surely leaving in the carpet. He slams open the bedroom door, pulls on his shoes. Stands panting in the doorway. Am I really going to do this?
And then he is, stomping out of the house and the apartment and Big Bang and YG family and Jiyong's fucked up little world.
He was done.