kardia.
kardia
gri (jiyong/seungri), pg-13, unbeta'd
written for gauzeling as part of the gri v-day fic exchange ♥ based on the prompts, 1. "jiyong-hyung, why don't you celebrate valentine?"
2. girls like jiyong; jiyong likes boys. seungri just wants to be famous.
3. heart-shaped boxes in ribbons stained with your goodbyes which i failed at adgadhjsd
asgjfkahgaedf stupid formatting i did in the original post aaaa
This is where blood splits into different rivers and rush towards the desert of body cells. Bones are white trees and a rhythm permeates the streets of flesh, a heart pumping life into everything.
This is where murders take place between lovers (maybe half-lovers too) everyday.
Somewhere between the lungs that balloon and shrink with each breath taken, a voice fills the cavity, singing love into existence.
Jiyong-hyung, Jiyong-hyung.
/
To buy roses would be to court death.
A thorny stalk of crimson is too much for Jiyong to afford. Besides, flowers in general are far too difficult to obtain these days. Years ago, the government had decided to do away with trees and flowers in order to sow seeds of their own- seeds of metal and glass.
(Where have all the flowers gone?)
Jiyong groans and shoves a crumpled catalogue into his shirt pocket. It's a yellowing piece of paper printed years ago, way before the revolution and all the nonsense that came with it. His mother had given it to him before she passed away. She told him that it was important to keep a piece of her, a piece of the past with him at all times. He nodded and unfolded the square of paper, revealing alist of different items, from chocolate hearts to small cakes with 'I Love You's written in icing. It was a Valentine's Day catalogue that his mother had kept. He didn't understand why he had to keep it.
The numbers next to the items are coloured over with pencil, and new numbers are written in the spaces between. With each year the prices soar and Jiyong fills in the new prices to keep himself updated. He used to buy candy hearts and kept them in a jar for himself until he could no longer afford it. A tiny box of chocolates would cost hundreds, but when Valentine's Day nears, he would see boys sneaking into dark alleys, their hands stuffed into their pockets. They leave later on with their hands sliding into chest pockets or bags, hiding pink boxes with ribbons or flowers.
Jiyong prays that one day, the flowers will return.
(When will they ever learn?)
It was funny, how these little things grew so rare over the years, disappearing from supermarket shelves as politicians played with the economy, like cats pawing at a ball of string, only to mess it up into tangles and dead knots.
Black market roses, black market chocolates never seemed so appealing before. But everything is worth the sacrifice when it comes to the boy who carries shadows under his eyes.
/
"Jiyong-hyung, why don't you celebrate Valentine?"
Jiyong looks up at Seungri from the floor of the practice room Seungri borrowed and meets his confused eyes under the cutting edges of his fringe. He doesn't really know what to say.
When it comes to Valentine's Day, the girls would wear dresses of all sorts, their faces caked with powder and colours to please Jiyong when they met him in the neighbourhood. He never looked at them. There was only one person he wanted to spend Valentine's Day with anyway.
"Why should I celebrate it?"
The only person I want to celebrate it with doesn't feel the same way I do, so why should I care?
And then Seungri smiles. Seungri's million-dollar smile that glints more like knives than coins and diamonds.
"But there are so many girls out there dying to make you happy, hyung," The younger boy turns back to the mirrors stuck on the wall and starts dancing again, watching his own body sway to an invisible melody.
Jiyong tries not to look at him when he's dancing, turns away instead to pick at his torn jeans in silentcontemplation. Seungri fills the room with his own breathing and excited chatter of his ambitions, how he's going to make it big in the city, the Heart, how he'll dance and sing and be rich and everyone will know him. And Jiyong only feels smaller when Seungri reaches out to hold his hand, "I'll make you proud, hyung." His fingers curling, burning like matchsticks.
"No, I don't want you to make me proud."
His voice ends in a smoke of syllables and Seungri stares. It's the first time Jiyong has ever said something like that, he used to just smile wordlessly and drag his fingers across Seungri's hair.
"Make me happy."
/
Jiyong sits in his tiny apartment, his bony elbows cutting into his own knees. St Valentine was stupid, he thinks, he never should have started all this bullshit, he deserved jail. Now it's haunting him to no end, and Jiyong folds and unfolds his mother's catalogue over and over again. And I pretend that this is a map to your everything, beyond the wells of your eyes, past the cage of bones.
Kwon Jiyong, you're a fool for slicing your chest open and uprooting your own heart for someone else.
He remembers Seungri's lips forming a thin line when he held the younger boy's hand, it was disappearing, like the burning fuse of a silent dynamite. It's not rejection that hurts most, it's indifference. Jiyong leaned in to press his lips to Seungri's shrinking mouth, but he tasted nothing. Seungri tasted like air.
Jiyong falls asleep with his hand over his reddening eyes.
/
"So tell me, how do you feel towards me?"
"I don't know, hyung."
"Give me the truth."
"What truth?"
"About how you feel towards me."
"Well, I-"
"Don't sugar-coat it, don't pretend that everything's alright, don't hesitate."
"I think you're a romantic person, hyung. You're wonderful, really."
"You don't understand, do you?" He pushes Seungri against the wall of the practice room and hisses, the wet shine of his canines making the younger boy wince. Seungri gasps when he feels the hem of his shirt lifting where Jiyong's fingers crawl under, his blunt nails scraping the skin over his hipbone.
"If you don't like me, just say it," Jiyong breathes against Seungri's jawline, his mouth sliding against the sharp chin and resting on Seungri's trembling lips. "Say you hate me, say you want me to leave you alone."
"H-Hyung."
"Can't say it?" Jiyong chuckles and his hand has already made its way past the waistband of Seungri's jeans. "You care about me, don't you, Seungri-ah."
His tongue slides itself between Seungri's lips and a moan escapes past the younger's open mouth. Jiyong smiles and his smile grows wider when he can feel Seungri's fingers twisting and pulling the hem of Jiyong's sweater, bringing their bodies closer.
"If you're going to stay, say you want me too."
"I... want you too."
I'm not going to share you with the world.
/
February is a young man with dark rings under his water-bright eyes. With each passing day the rings grow, like the skin of a tree thickening in expanding circles.
Jiyong entertains the thought of proposing with those rings, but he remembers that Seungri likes shiny, bright things. So he decides that he will get a ring made of silver, or gold, perhaps, and maybe he'd like diamonds too, or would that be too much? Of course it's unrealistic, he can't even get a rose, much less a ring of gold or diamonds.
But a man can dream, can't he?
Under the moon's cheshire grin, Seungri's eyes fill themselves with Jiyong's smiles, Jiyong's face. Until he forgets that behind the curls of those piercing eyes and that wonderful mouth, stars exist.
Do you like sweets, Seungri-ah?
Yes, I do.
Do you like flowers, Seungri-ah?
Yes, they're pretty.
I'll buy them for you. (I'll steal, rob, kill if I have to)
Buy me a heart-shaped box and ribbons of every colour, hyung.
Why?
It's simple and pretty and lasts longer than candies or flowers.
(I can keep memories of us in it)
/
Jiyong peels the moon's cold silver skin into a bright golden sun and Seungri hums against Jiyong's tattooed arm in bed. "Stay here with me and dance for me, not for anyone else."
And Seungri's lungs become knotted, the colour fading from his face as invisible leeches sucked him awake. Those mental images of travelling far, far away, deep into the Heart of the City, where spiralling staircases take you up into the clouds, where heaven is just a step away, those images are blurring. He wants to dance there. But there are layers of thin cotton folding over these dreams, and he remembers that he's under the sheets with Jiyong right now, he's not on his way to the Heart to paint fame with his body.
"You've chosen me, so stay."
A tiny voice in the back of Seungri's head says, you have chosen chaos.
This will ruin you, it keeps telling him when Seungri buries his face in the curve of Jiyong's neck, it has already ruined you. Jiyong is your home that is on fire.
But I can't escape from it when I was the one who set it on fire in the first place, Seungri reasons with himself.
/
He dreams of darkness, and Seungri is sitting across him in the shadows. There is a candle next to him. It is lit, the flames licking hungrily at the air but there is no wind. This place is far too warm for his liking, and the floor feels strangely soft and wet. The walls are red and they move, closing in on them like jaws. Jiyong smiles because he knows that Seungri can see it.
Do you know where we are?
In the pit of your stomach.
Yes, I ate you. I ate myself. I ate us.
Why did you do that, hyung?
You're closer, so much closer now.
Seungri doesn't say anything else and suddenly he looks so far away from Jiyong.
Can I hold you?
Only for a while, hyung.
Can I hold you until the candle goes out? (It's a very long candle.)
So Seungri smiles, nods and shifts his way into Jiyong's arms.
Then he arches his neck and ends the dancing flame with just one breath.
Then the dream ends.
idk either lol
gri (jiyong/seungri), pg-13, unbeta'd
written for gauzeling as part of the gri v-day fic exchange ♥ based on the prompts, 1. "jiyong-hyung, why don't you celebrate valentine?"
2. girls like jiyong; jiyong likes boys. seungri just wants to be famous.
3. heart-shaped boxes in ribbons stained with your goodbyes which i failed at adgadhjsd
asgjfkahgaedf stupid formatting i did in the original post aaaa
This is where blood splits into different rivers and rush towards the desert of body cells. Bones are white trees and a rhythm permeates the streets of flesh, a heart pumping life into everything.
This is where murders take place between lovers (maybe half-lovers too) everyday.
Somewhere between the lungs that balloon and shrink with each breath taken, a voice fills the cavity, singing love into existence.
Jiyong-hyung, Jiyong-hyung.
/
To buy roses would be to court death.
A thorny stalk of crimson is too much for Jiyong to afford. Besides, flowers in general are far too difficult to obtain these days. Years ago, the government had decided to do away with trees and flowers in order to sow seeds of their own- seeds of metal and glass.
(Where have all the flowers gone?)
Jiyong groans and shoves a crumpled catalogue into his shirt pocket. It's a yellowing piece of paper printed years ago, way before the revolution and all the nonsense that came with it. His mother had given it to him before she passed away. She told him that it was important to keep a piece of her, a piece of the past with him at all times. He nodded and unfolded the square of paper, revealing alist of different items, from chocolate hearts to small cakes with 'I Love You's written in icing. It was a Valentine's Day catalogue that his mother had kept. He didn't understand why he had to keep it.
The numbers next to the items are coloured over with pencil, and new numbers are written in the spaces between. With each year the prices soar and Jiyong fills in the new prices to keep himself updated. He used to buy candy hearts and kept them in a jar for himself until he could no longer afford it. A tiny box of chocolates would cost hundreds, but when Valentine's Day nears, he would see boys sneaking into dark alleys, their hands stuffed into their pockets. They leave later on with their hands sliding into chest pockets or bags, hiding pink boxes with ribbons or flowers.
Jiyong prays that one day, the flowers will return.
(When will they ever learn?)
It was funny, how these little things grew so rare over the years, disappearing from supermarket shelves as politicians played with the economy, like cats pawing at a ball of string, only to mess it up into tangles and dead knots.
Black market roses, black market chocolates never seemed so appealing before. But everything is worth the sacrifice when it comes to the boy who carries shadows under his eyes.
/
"Jiyong-hyung, why don't you celebrate Valentine?"
Jiyong looks up at Seungri from the floor of the practice room Seungri borrowed and meets his confused eyes under the cutting edges of his fringe. He doesn't really know what to say.
When it comes to Valentine's Day, the girls would wear dresses of all sorts, their faces caked with powder and colours to please Jiyong when they met him in the neighbourhood. He never looked at them. There was only one person he wanted to spend Valentine's Day with anyway.
"Why should I celebrate it?"
The only person I want to celebrate it with doesn't feel the same way I do, so why should I care?
And then Seungri smiles. Seungri's million-dollar smile that glints more like knives than coins and diamonds.
"But there are so many girls out there dying to make you happy, hyung," The younger boy turns back to the mirrors stuck on the wall and starts dancing again, watching his own body sway to an invisible melody.
Jiyong tries not to look at him when he's dancing, turns away instead to pick at his torn jeans in silentcontemplation. Seungri fills the room with his own breathing and excited chatter of his ambitions, how he's going to make it big in the city, the Heart, how he'll dance and sing and be rich and everyone will know him. And Jiyong only feels smaller when Seungri reaches out to hold his hand, "I'll make you proud, hyung." His fingers curling, burning like matchsticks.
"No, I don't want you to make me proud."
His voice ends in a smoke of syllables and Seungri stares. It's the first time Jiyong has ever said something like that, he used to just smile wordlessly and drag his fingers across Seungri's hair.
"Make me happy."
/
Jiyong sits in his tiny apartment, his bony elbows cutting into his own knees. St Valentine was stupid, he thinks, he never should have started all this bullshit, he deserved jail. Now it's haunting him to no end, and Jiyong folds and unfolds his mother's catalogue over and over again. And I pretend that this is a map to your everything, beyond the wells of your eyes, past the cage of bones.
Kwon Jiyong, you're a fool for slicing your chest open and uprooting your own heart for someone else.
He remembers Seungri's lips forming a thin line when he held the younger boy's hand, it was disappearing, like the burning fuse of a silent dynamite. It's not rejection that hurts most, it's indifference. Jiyong leaned in to press his lips to Seungri's shrinking mouth, but he tasted nothing. Seungri tasted like air.
Jiyong falls asleep with his hand over his reddening eyes.
/
"So tell me, how do you feel towards me?"
"I don't know, hyung."
"Give me the truth."
"What truth?"
"About how you feel towards me."
"Well, I-"
"Don't sugar-coat it, don't pretend that everything's alright, don't hesitate."
"I think you're a romantic person, hyung. You're wonderful, really."
"You don't understand, do you?" He pushes Seungri against the wall of the practice room and hisses, the wet shine of his canines making the younger boy wince. Seungri gasps when he feels the hem of his shirt lifting where Jiyong's fingers crawl under, his blunt nails scraping the skin over his hipbone.
"If you don't like me, just say it," Jiyong breathes against Seungri's jawline, his mouth sliding against the sharp chin and resting on Seungri's trembling lips. "Say you hate me, say you want me to leave you alone."
"H-Hyung."
"Can't say it?" Jiyong chuckles and his hand has already made its way past the waistband of Seungri's jeans. "You care about me, don't you, Seungri-ah."
His tongue slides itself between Seungri's lips and a moan escapes past the younger's open mouth. Jiyong smiles and his smile grows wider when he can feel Seungri's fingers twisting and pulling the hem of Jiyong's sweater, bringing their bodies closer.
"If you're going to stay, say you want me too."
"I... want you too."
I'm not going to share you with the world.
/
February is a young man with dark rings under his water-bright eyes. With each passing day the rings grow, like the skin of a tree thickening in expanding circles.
Jiyong entertains the thought of proposing with those rings, but he remembers that Seungri likes shiny, bright things. So he decides that he will get a ring made of silver, or gold, perhaps, and maybe he'd like diamonds too, or would that be too much? Of course it's unrealistic, he can't even get a rose, much less a ring of gold or diamonds.
But a man can dream, can't he?
Under the moon's cheshire grin, Seungri's eyes fill themselves with Jiyong's smiles, Jiyong's face. Until he forgets that behind the curls of those piercing eyes and that wonderful mouth, stars exist.
Do you like sweets, Seungri-ah?
Yes, I do.
Do you like flowers, Seungri-ah?
Yes, they're pretty.
I'll buy them for you. (I'll steal, rob, kill if I have to)
Buy me a heart-shaped box and ribbons of every colour, hyung.
Why?
It's simple and pretty and lasts longer than candies or flowers.
(I can keep memories of us in it)
/
Jiyong peels the moon's cold silver skin into a bright golden sun and Seungri hums against Jiyong's tattooed arm in bed. "Stay here with me and dance for me, not for anyone else."
And Seungri's lungs become knotted, the colour fading from his face as invisible leeches sucked him awake. Those mental images of travelling far, far away, deep into the Heart of the City, where spiralling staircases take you up into the clouds, where heaven is just a step away, those images are blurring. He wants to dance there. But there are layers of thin cotton folding over these dreams, and he remembers that he's under the sheets with Jiyong right now, he's not on his way to the Heart to paint fame with his body.
"You've chosen me, so stay."
A tiny voice in the back of Seungri's head says, you have chosen chaos.
This will ruin you, it keeps telling him when Seungri buries his face in the curve of Jiyong's neck, it has already ruined you. Jiyong is your home that is on fire.
But I can't escape from it when I was the one who set it on fire in the first place, Seungri reasons with himself.
/
He dreams of darkness, and Seungri is sitting across him in the shadows. There is a candle next to him. It is lit, the flames licking hungrily at the air but there is no wind. This place is far too warm for his liking, and the floor feels strangely soft and wet. The walls are red and they move, closing in on them like jaws. Jiyong smiles because he knows that Seungri can see it.
Do you know where we are?
In the pit of your stomach.
Yes, I ate you. I ate myself. I ate us.
Why did you do that, hyung?
You're closer, so much closer now.
Seungri doesn't say anything else and suddenly he looks so far away from Jiyong.
Can I hold you?
Only for a while, hyung.
Can I hold you until the candle goes out? (It's a very long candle.)
So Seungri smiles, nods and shifts his way into Jiyong's arms.
Then he arches his neck and ends the dancing flame with just one breath.
Then the dream ends.
idk either lol