Fate Is a One-Way Street [infinite; woohyun/sungkyu] (2/2)
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Woohyun is on the edge of sleep when he feels the bed dip underneath him, a new warmth radiating against his skin. He mumbles something incomprehensible and an arm reaches out to push him further to the edge of the bed.
“My bed,” Woohyun grumbles after he manages to string some words together. “Dongwoo gone?”
“It’s cold outside and my heating’s busted,” Sungkyu replies, crawling in beside him. Woohyun sluggishly moves his limbs when Sungkyu tugs on his blanket, letting him steal most of it and being too drowsy to protest. “Dongwoo left half an hour ago, and why is your blanket so thin? It’s winter, can’t you go buy a new one?”
Woohyun uses the last few remnants of his energy to let out an exaggerated snore. Sungkyu snorts and kicks the back of Woohyun’s legs before pulling the blanket up over himself. It takes a few minutes for Sungkyu to stop fidgeting and moving around, and Woohyun doesn’t know he’s waiting for it until Sungkyu’s breathing eventually evens out and Woohyun lets himself move a bit closer. Their elbows brush against each other lightly and the the taut elastic around Woohyun’s awareness snaps, letting it crumble away until all Woohyun can register is the pressure of fatigue on his body.
Sungkyu stiffens from next to him, and Woohyun growls in annoyance. “What?” he slurs out.
He doesn’t turn to look at Sungkyu, but the perplexed ’Nothing’ is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep again.
Unlike Woohyun when Sungkyu initially started dating, Sungkyu definitely notices when Woohyun stops coming back home at a reasonable time. Woohyun hasn’t roomed with Sungkyu for years, but the feeling of coming home to Sungkyu waiting for him -- for whatever reason -- feels so innate that he doesn’t flinch seeing Sungkyu sitting idly on his bed.
Sungkyu looks up and Woohyun blinks sleep from his eyes, squinting to make sure that, yes, that is definitely Sungkyu lounging back on his pillow and looking at Woohyun with the same affection he’d give a cockroach he’d accidentally stepped on.
“Do you know what time is it,” Sungkyu asks.
Woohyun still feels a little delirious, so he ignores the question in favour of asking: “Why are you in my room?”
“I’m in your room,” Sungkyu enunciates each word carefully, “because it’s four am and this is the eighth night you’ve decided to wander off without a manager.”
Woohyun shrugs off his coat, throwing it haphazardly on the chair next to him. “So? It’s not like we aren’t allowed to date.”
Sungkyu raises an eyebrow. “Dating? That’s what you want me to believe you’re doing?”
Woohyun bristles. “Fine. What’s it to you though? It’s not like you’ve never done it. We all have needs or whatever.”
Sungkyu gapes at him, moving so he’s sitting at the edge of the bed. “Your needs are now, all of a sudden, gaining precedence over our band?”
“Not all of us were lucky enough to get a girlfriend and dumb enough to lose them,” Woohyun snips, taking off his watch and slowly placing it on the desk. It’s a low blow, and if Sungkyu were Sungyeol or even anyone else, he’d be hurt and walk out of the room and that’d be it. Instead, Sungkyu sneers and narrows his eyes.
“That’s fucking rich. Guess what Woohyun, not all of us were lucky enough to be born with a soul mark, and still be short sighted enough to go crawling into random beds and risk our entire career.”
Woohyun needs something to do with his hands. He buries them into his pockets and grips the material tightly. “Who says being born marked was a good thing, huh?” he challenges.
Sungkyu snorts. “Not you, obviously. You’re acting like you want to break it.”
Woohyun freezes. Doesn’t dare breathe.
Sungkyu takes a pause, concern and curiosity etching itself on his face over the initial anger. “Woohyun…” he says slowly. “Are you… are you trying to break your bond?”
They don’t talk about it. Ever. For one, it isn’t something that really comes up in casual conversation between members. And two, Woohyun goes out of his way to make sure it’s never talked about. Abruptly changes the subject whenever it even vaguely veers into the same territory, makes some excuse to leave the room when someone’s about to broach the topic, and dismissively rebuffs anyone who tries to use it to create small talk. Sungkyu had figured out pretty early on that Woohyun didn’t like discussing it, but it’s only now that it looks like he might actually care about the reason why.
Woohyun should know better. Should scoff at the mere idea of Sungkyu suggesting it. But his mouth is working on it’s own accord, and he looks down at his shoes as all the curtains around him start crumpling to the floor.
“Why am I so lucky to be born with a mark anyway? What’s so fucking lucky about being given absolutely no choice in who I fall in love with? I’m not going to end up meeting them on the streets as a student and live happily ever after. What if they’re not bonded back to me? What if they’ve already broken theirs? They probably have. I mean, who would want to be bonded to the most over the top and annoying idol to ever be an idol?"
Woohyun takes a shuddering inhale, gathering his courage - or maybe idiocy -- before taking the plunge.
"Who would want someone who's so busy pretending to be someone else, that they probably aren’t even the same person destiny decided to burn onto their skin? Who would want someone who’s so lonely and desperate, he fucks anyone who looks even mildly interested? Who would want someone so irritatingly needy, not even his own leader can stand to be around him sometimes? Who in their right mind would ever want somebody like that? Who in their right mind would ever want me?”
Woohyun’s exhale is broken. His throat burns when he swallows.
“Woohyun, you’re shaking,” Sungkyu says softly.
Woohyun opens his eyes. Unfurls the fists he doesn’t remember making, and brings them out front of him. He looks at his quivering hands -- both with a matching set of crescent indents -- and then looks at Sungkyu. It hurts.
He’d thought that for the last few weeks he was making some sort of misguided progress. That he’d managed to smother the pain a little, giving him a taste of what his life would be like without it. But now Woohyun knows that’s not true. It’s been building, and the past few weeks have been just numb and unfeeling, and the ache and mortification that’s been repressed come back so forcefully, Woohyun wants to drop to his knees in front of Sungkyu and bury his face in his lap then and there.
They’re both older now, mid to late twenties. Consolation isn’t as easy as a hug and puppy pile like it was back then. Sungkyu looks unsure when he stands up and puts both hands on Woohyun’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly.
“You’re okay,” Sungkyu says. He doesn’t hug Woohyun. “You’ll be okay.”
The next morning feels new. Woohyun wakes up lighter and without the overwhelming need to stay in bed that he usually struggles with. When he brushes his teeth, gets dressed, and pours himself a bowl of cereal, it’s almost reflexive, natural. Instead of like he’s wading through a thick swamp just so he can flop down and continue wasting away on the other side. It’s nothing revolutionary, Woohyun isn’t walking with a spring in his step anytime soon, but it’s enough that Sungkyu notices and sends him a hesitant smile over the table.
“Someone finally woke up on the right side of bed,” he comments.
“More like some dumb jerk decided to invade my space last night,” Woohyun grumbles, but it’s without malice. Sungkyu winks at him before looking down at his phone and reading the text messages he’d missed.
“Is everything a go with the solo album?” Woohyun asks, eyes focused on his breakfast.
Sungkyu’s head snaps up. “Sorry? Do you actually care?”
Woohyun sticks his tongue out. “No, I don’t. I’m just humouring you.”
Sungkyu picks up a flake of dry cereal off the table and flicks it in Woohyun’s direction. “We’re almost done with the preparation. I have Jonghyun back on the duet track, and I’m going to start recording next week.”
Woohyun hums. Then: “I think I want to try singing again.”
Woohyun is still intently looking at his cereal, but he hears Sungkyu’s phone fall from his grip and clatter on the table. “What?”
Woohyun scratches the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. “Not like, on your album or anything. But, I don’t know. Something small. I want to give it a go again.”
“Since when?” Sungkyu asks, astonished.
Good question. Woohyun doesn’t know. Sometime in between pulling out his chair this morning, and Sungkyu sleepily walking into the fridge. In the past, when Sungkyu brought up the prospect of singing again, Woohyun would deflect it with a ’it’s not the right time’. It was mostly bullshit until now. But that’s what now feels like. It’s not often Woohyun is graced with a good day, especially not one as astoundingly clear as this one. Might as well make the most of it.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Woohyun half-lies.
“This is-” Sungkyu starts, but he can’t seem to find the words. “This is great. This is awesome, yeah. I’ll get Jungyeop hyung to talk to you when I see him again. Where’s my notebook, actually. I have his new number scrawled down there.” Sungkyu moves to get up, looking around frantically and patting the places pockets would be on his shirt if it had any. Woohyun hooks his feet around Sungkyu’s leg underneath the table and tugs.
“Sit down,” Woohyun whines, “it’s too early.”
Sungkyu grins at him sheepishly but complies. “Sorry, I just. I’m really happy for you, Woohyun.” He smiles at him. It’s a smile Woohyun hasn’t seen directed towards him in years. It’s pride.
Woohyun beams, and he knows how stupid he must look. “I didn’t even do anything,” he insists, ducking his head.
Sungkyu grins, reaching over to ruffle Woohyun’s hair. “I really, really-” he falters for a moment, forehead creasing.
“What?” Woohyun probes.
Sungkyu shakes his head, but looks like he’s deliberating something before continuing. “I just, really really want you to be happy.”
Woollim has released an official statement. “Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, as well as the members’ own individual goals, Infinite will not be renewing their contracts with Woollim to continue as a band. The sequence of events leading up to this was unfortunate, and we wish Infinite could have said goodbye beautifully. However, it seems as if the public won’t allow that, and so their last official activity as a group was officially Music Bank Tokyo held three months ago. Deepest apologies to all of Infinite’s fans who have supported them since debut. Please look after them carefully as they blossom into their own individual colours.”
Even though he's seen Sungkyu in them often enough, actually being inside the recording booth after almost three years is a disorientating experience. The staff on the other side of the glass aren’t looking at him, busy going through the arrangement, but Woohyun feels like he’s in an interrogation room. He counts to ten, and then hums, holding two fingers up to his throat, trying to remember the vocal warm up exercises Sungkyu had gone through with him the day before.
"Alright Woohyun," Yoon Sang’s voice comes through muffled but loud. "You ready to go?"
Woohyun swallows down his nerves. Sungkyu had called in favours with every producer he’d ever worked with, and although most were hesitant to risk featuring Woohyun on any of their tracks, after getting Jungyeop hyung to back him up, Producer Yoon Sang had hesitantly agreed to take on Woohyun for a small project. It's just a simple OST track for a low-budget makjang drama on a cable channel no one watches (he and Sungkyu had tried, for formality's sake, but had given up after the love square quickly turned into some incestous-chaebol sibling power play). Still, Woohyun doesn't even think he was this nervous during Infinite's debut stage.
"Yeah," he replies, giving them a thumbs up and toothy smile.
The instrumental starts playing and Woohyun sings the first verse and chorus with relative ease, falling back into pattern, remembering how singing used to be like breathing to him. The song shifts to the bridge, and when Woohyun builds up for the high note, he goes flat.
"Sorry," he says, waving. "Can I try it again?"
Yoon Sang gives him a thumbs up and starts the song from the beginning. Once again, Woohyun goes through the motions, but this time his voice cracks on the falsetto during the chorus.
Woohyun opens his mouth to apologise, but Yoon Sang cuts him off. "Again?"
Woohyun thins his lips and nods mutely.
They go through twelve retakes. Woohyun still can't get the high note right, or he manages to fumble before even reaching it. His throat is beginning to feel scratchy and prickly, and he isn't sure how much of it is due to singing out of his range.
"Can I take a break?" he asks, playing with the lid of the water bottle a staff member had ushered into his hands after the fifth try.
Yoon Sang looks up from where he’d been fiddling with the knobs on the mixing desk. "You know what," he says, "why don't you go home for the day, Woohyun? Just rest up and take care of your voice a little. You still have a great tone. If another OST comes up, I'll call you." The smile he directs Woohyun is meant to be reassuring and kind, but Woohyun feels the bottom of his stomach falling.
"Okay," Woohyun agrees, slipping the headphones off and placing them on the table. He doesn't trust himself to say anymore, and bows towards the staff and mumbles a quick goodbye before making haste towards the door. He feels shaky, not sure if he can even stand up on two feet anymore.
"It was nice working with you again, Woohyun!" Yoon Sang calls out. Woohyun ignores him, closing the door shut behind him, and managing to take ten steps before he collapses onto a nearby bench. He rests his head on his hands and holds his breath.
The worst disasters start off quietly. Of course, being an idol means that things are never really quiet for Woohyun. He’s always on the job, method acting, invariably ready to perform, whether it’s for a PD who hands him a script, or a random citizen who vaguely recognises him on the streets.
Quiet for Woohyun is sitting in the van with his head resting against the tinted windows, absently watching peak hour traffic slug along. Quiet is taking the elevator up to the dorms and meeting no invasive fans in the lobby. Quiet is the insignificant seconds where he’s opening the door to their apartment, and his only concern is whether they have milk in the fridge.
What breaks the quiet is the resounding stillness he’s met with when he walks into the room. Six members, three managers, and the CEO are huddled around one small laptop. The only noise is the voice that crackles through the phone Jungyeop hyung pulls away from his ear when he notices Woohyun standing in the doorway.
Sungkyu speaks first, turning towards Jungyeop hyung and saying: “I’ll talk to him, okay?”
Everyone looks hesitant, but Sungkyu is already walking determinedly towards Woohyun, wraps his fingers around his wrist, and Woohyun follows him instinctively as he pulls them both into the closest bedroom and shuts the door.
Sungkyu and Woohyun haven’t been talking recently. It’s involuntarily intentional, a month of unoccupied seats between them, retracted words, pats on the back that never linger. For Woohyun it’s an exercise in restraint, trying to harden the muscle that’s his heart. Woohyun doesn’t know what Sungkyu’s deal is, and he’s afraid he’s about to find out when Sungkyu turns towards him, upset and defeated.
Sungkyu pulls out his phone, looks like he’s in physical pain when he turns the screen towards Woohyun. “Just… tell me… is this you?”
Woohyun can’t make out much from the preview. He squints and taps the screen. It starts off dark, the only noise some vague rustling, but then he can vaguely make out two bodies and it’s enough to make every muscle in his body tighten. He can’t remember the room, he can’t even remember who he was with, and he thought he’d been so careful.
“I-” Woohyun croaks out. “How do they--”
Sungkyu doesn’t answer him, but fast forwards the video to the middle, and even casted by shadows, it’s unmistakable. Sungkyu presses play, and the voices cut through his skin. Claw their way up from his stomach to the damned star shape mark on his chest, and pierce through the middle.
”You must be desperate? Who’d you get cursed with.”
”No one. Just, please. Fuck. Do this for me, I’ll make you feel good.”
“Stop,” Woohyun says, shutting his eyes. “Stop it.”
“You’re upset,” Sungkyu observes. Woohyun can’t look at him and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “They need to talk to you, so come out in an hour even if you aren’t feeling better.” He says it like dealing with Woohyun is a job, something he does on autopilot while staring out the window, waiting for the day to be over.
Woohyun can’t say anything back to him, just waits for Sungkyu to leave the room before screaming into his hands.
Everybody on the other side of the door has seen it. Sungkyu’s seen it. It’s out there on the internet -- everyone’s seen it. They all know. Nam Woohyun is a worthless piece of trash. With no morals. No restraint. No value for love. The seven of them put everything into Infinite, crawling on hands and feet to carve an endless figure eight, and Woohyun had upturned everything for one hopeless fuck he can’t even remember. Done for the sake of an hopeless infatuation he doesn’t know how to forget.
Sungkyu had told him to call once recording had finished so they could go out for meat together. Woohyun does no such thing, considers the offer -- and every other doting gesture Sungkyu had made towards him in the last two weeks -- effectively nullified.
He catches a taxi back to their apartment. The taxi driver registers who Woohyun is and what he’s infamous for fifteen minutes into the drive. Opens his mouth to say something, and Woohyun digs out all the cash he has in his wallet and stuffs it into the drink holder before opening the door and walking the rest of the way home.
The apartment is silent when Woohyun arrives, the half-eaten bowl of rice from this morning still on the kitchen counter, and the blue patterned tie Woohyun had talked Sungkyu out of wearing today lying on the floor. Woohyun picks it up, and is scowling at how ugly it is when the phone rings.
No one ever calls the home phone anymore, and on any other day Woohyun would shamelessly ignore it. He’s about to do the same now, except he remembers that Sungkyu has a career, an album in the works, people who don’t see him as a consistent let-down, and it could actually be important.
“Hello,” he answers.
“Hello?” comes a soft female voice from the other end. “I’m sorry, is Sungkyu-ssi there?”
“No,” Woohyun says. He narrows his eyes. “Who’s speaking?”
“Oh, it’s Woo Yejin from…” she hesitates, “sorry, who am I speaking to?”
Woohyun sniffs. “I’m his roommate,” he says, hopes it’s curt enough for her to get a hint.
There’s rustling from the other end, and then Woo Yejin speaks again. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you. But if you just tell Sungkyu-ssi that I called-”
“I’m sorry,” Woohyun interrupts, “it’s just that, I’m sure you’re aware of Sungkyu’s career. I don’t know if you’re a fan or actually--”
“No, no!” Yejin protests. “He’s been seeing me recently. Just tell him my name--”
Woohyun hangs up.
Sungkyu comes home to complete darkness. All the lights off, the curtains drawn, and as evidence of Woohyun’s perfectionism, all the electronics unplugged so there’s not even the small red light next to the tv to greet him. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but things have been looking a little better recently, and he can’t say he’s unsurprised.
He’s expecting to find Woohyun in his bed, doing the exaggerated breathing pattern that means he’s trying very hard to pretend to be asleep. So he’s a more than a little alarmed when walks past packed boxes lining the hallway, and finds Woohyun standing in the middle of the room with a crudely made quilt knapsack in his arms.
“What in the world are you doing?” Sungkyu asks, gaping.
Woohyun looks up, expression bare and muted. Except Woohyun is like a book with paragraphs Sungkyu can quote off by heart, and the despondence brewing underneath is as clear as day.
“Packing,” Woohyun answers blankly, “I’m moving out.”
Sungkyu closes his eyes and massages his temple. “I’m sure you thought this through really well,” he drawls, “but just wondering, where exactly do you plan to move out to.”
Woohyun straightens his back defensively. “I’m still looking for an apartment, until then Sungyeol’s place. I called him today, he said it was fine.”
“I’m sure that idiot did say that,” Sungkyu grumbles. “Why are you moving out, again? Did I miss a text message?”
Woohyun’s stare is determined and unrelenting. “I’m getting out of your way. There’s no point in me living here anymore. I don’t even know why we’re living together in the first place.”
Sungkyu blinks. “What?”
Woohyun hardens his jaw. “We’re both adults, okay. We need to move on with our lives.”
Sungkyu is at a complete loss. It’s like he’s been exerting all this energy into building a bookshelf with scattered and mismatched parts and no instructions to go off. Then, in the last few weeks, the bits and pieces have started making sense and falling into place, and he can actually see the bigger picture he’s working towards. Right now feels like finding an extra bolt he’s never seen before when the bookshelf is already more than halfway finished.
“Can we- can we talk about this, please?” Sungkyu implores, “like adults.”
Woohyun looks like he’s about to refuse, but at the last minute changes his mind. “Fine. But we’re talking in the living room. It feels like you’re trapping me here,” he accuses. He strides past Sungkyu indignantly, his knapsack slapping against Sungkyu’s hip.
Sungkyu snorts. “I’m trapping you,” he mocks. He’s about to follow Woohyun out, when the door slams unceremoniously in his face. Sungkyu is taken aback for about a second before shaking it off and reaching for the door knob. It doesn’t turn. Sungkyu rattles it in his grip and starts slamming the door with his shoulder, but it’s futile.
“Woohyun!” Sungkyu yells, rapping his fists against the door. “Hey Woohyun, this isn’t a very adult thing to do.” He gets no answer, but he can hear Woohyun shifting things from the other side. “Woohyun when I break down this door, the only thing Sungyeol will be helping move is your fucking corpse.”
Sungkyu’s phone is dead. He looks around the room, and some of Woohyun’s books and CDs are still on the shelf. Still, there’s nothing he registers as being of particular value, and he doesn’t really want to rely on Woohyun coming back to scavenge for leftover items to escape. Plus, that’s not really the point anyway.
“Woohyun, come on. This is ridiculous, stop being stupid,” Sungkyu pleads. He sits down on the floor, back against the door, suddenly exhausted. “God, you’re such a pain to deal with.”
The footsteps and constant shuffling of boxes stop, and Woohyun’s voice comes through the door matter-of-fact. “Well, that’s why I’m leaving. Put up with it a bit more.”
Sungkyu finds it then. The two loose pieces of wood that need to be bolted together. Sungkyu never intended to broach the topic like this. He had a plan, one he had looked over by Dongwoo, so he knows at the very least it was a sensitive plan, a tactful one. Although that was probably never going to work. He and Woohyun didn’t get where they were by being sensitive and tactful.
“Woohyun,” Sungkyu starts, wringing his fingers together. “Am I your soulmate?”
There’s the sound of a box crashing onto the floor. Sungkyu lets out a shaky exhale.
“Were you ever planning on telling me?”
Silence, and then: “There was no point. There’s still no point.”
Sungkyu didn’t realise how much he relied on Woohyun’s incapability to keep emotion off his face until now, because he can’t read the tone of his voice at all.
“Why do you think that?” Sungkyu says at the same time Woohyun goes, “You don’t have a mark.”
Sungkyu shakes his head, even though he knows Woohyun can’t see. “So? Did everyone you date have a mark? Do all soulmates end up finding each other?”
“I wish I never found you,” Woohyun says. Sungkyu can’t help himself, he laughs. “I’m being serious.”
“Well, you know, looking back on it maybe you would be better off. No idea where I’d be though,” Sungkyu ruminates.
“You’d probably still have a career, for one.”
There’s nothing but the sound of their mismatched breathing for a few minutes, and then Woohyuk speaks again.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You’ve probably guessed that I’m in love with you, right? That’s not your fault. But… I can’t stay. I told myself I was okay being your platonic life partner or whatever, but… I can’t do it. I’m ruining your life, hyung. You’re your own person, I’m not your mess to clean up. You’re dating someone now, and you might get married, and I’ll never have learnt how to cope with it. Or you might break up, and I’ll be happy for three seconds until you date someone else, and history will just be repeating itself over and over again. I just… We can’t do that to ourselves.”
“I never even did the dishes when it was my turn back at the dorms!” Sungkyu marvels. “You think I’m living with you because I’m trying to clean up a mess? I can’t believe you’d overestimate me like-- wait, what?” Sungkyu furrows his eyebrows. “Did you say I’m dating someone now?”
The huff Woohyun lets out is so petulant and Woohyun, Sungkyu almost cries. “Woo Yejin called,” he says bitterly.
Stupid Woohyun. Stupid fucking Woohyun with his martyr complex, and his narcissism, and his compulsive need to be loved, and his inability to believe people can love him without pretences. Stupid Woohyun who talks bullshit so well, but can’t say anything that really matters, and jumps to conclusions, and doesn’t ever make things easy for Sungkyu. Stupid fucking Woohyun.
“Woohyun,” Sungkyu says softly, “can you please open the door?”
Sungkyu doesn’t count his luck but he shifts forward, and sure enough the door clicks open behind him. Sungkyu stays rooted to his spot on the floor, and from the corner of his eye he can see Woohyun sliding down against the adjacent.
“Woo Yejin...” Sungkyu begins, “...is a psychologist.” He really wants to see Woohyun’s face at the reveal, but he doesn’t want to break the tentative truce between them. “She specialises in the effects of the soulmate bond on mental health.”
“You think I’m crazy and want me locked up,” Woohyun summarises flatly.
Still not looking at Woohyun’s face, Sungkyu reaches an arm out to slap Woohyun upside his head. He gains a good amount of self-satisfaction from the pained ’Ow’ Woohyun makes.
“I told her you were depressed, and that I think you’re my soulmate, and I had no idea until recently.”
“You’re my soulmate,” Woohyun interrupts, “don’t get it mixed up.”
“For the love of-- would you stop fucking interrupting. I told her you were my soulmate, and asked if it was possible when I don’t have a mark. She said yes, and then I asked her if an unrequited soulbond could have adverse effects on someone’s mental health. She said yes, and then I got a voicemail from her today confirming that she’d be free to meet you next week.”
When Woohyun doesn’t speak, Sungkyu continues. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. But every time I brought up you seeing someone in the past you always got so offended, so I took it into my own hands. I thought it’d be easier if it was someone we could both see together. I don’t want to fix you, or clean you, okay? I just want to make you happy.”
He takes a deep breath and turns to face Woohyun now -- isn’t surprised to see Woohyun looking back at him with his infuriatingly good looking and heartbroken face.
“How?” Woohyun asks. “How did you know? How’s that possible?”
Sungkyu waves his hand; when Yejin had explained the technicalities of it he’d almost zoned out, only just catching the gist of it. “You’re such a dumb kid, and I’m such a dickhead, the Universe decided it wasn’t ready to drop the bomb on me until two weeks ago.”
Woohyun deflates, like a child who’d just been scolded. “So it is my fault,” he concludes.
Sungkyu groans, exasperated, and moves closer towards Woohyun so he can wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Woohyun’s skin is warm, and Sungkyu brushes a thumb against where he can feel his pulse thrumming.
“No, I just needed some catching up to do,” Sungkyu says, gently tugging Woohyun’s hair. Woohyun makes a sound and looks up at him, and although Sungkyu has always been helpless and irrevocably fond, right now he knows that even though Woohyun was the one with the mark, there was never really any choice for him either.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Sungkyu reasons out loud. “I was in love with you long before I found out you were my soulmate.”
He doesn’t know who moves first. Maybe him. Maybe Woohyun. Maybe the Earth shifts and sends them both colliding against each other at the same time. But when he kisses Woohyun, it’s destiny.
“I fucked up the recording,” Woohyun says when they’re lying in bed.
It had taken an hour to unpack all the boxes, even with Sungkyu half-assing most of it and trying to stuff all of Woohyun’s clothes in one drawer when he thought no one was looking. Woohyun would have complained, did complain actually, but Sungkyu had sent him a look that very precisely conveyed ’this is all your fault, I’m not doing more than I have to’, and Woohyun very graciously dropped it. Sungkyu made it up to him by letting Woohyun wrap himself around him on the bed like a koala.
Which is where they are now. Woohyun’s legs tangled up with Sungkyu’s under the blanket, an arm over his stomach, and his head resting on Sungkyu’s chest where he can hear his heartbeat. Sungkyu makes an uninterested sound brings a hand up to run through Woohyun’s hair.
“There’ll be other opportunities,” Sungkyu assures him, “you’ll get through it, but there’ll be a few bumps along the road. Things don’t always work out smoothly, Woohyun. Even when they should.”
Woohyun sighs and rubs his face against Sungkyu’s shirt. “They all think I’m useless.”
“No one thinks that. Not even you do, really.”
Woohyun hums absently, watching his hand rise and drop with Sungkyu’s breathing. “Remember when I used to be a better singer than you?”
Sungkyu barks out a laugh. “You’re delusional. That’s hilarious. Don’t worry Woohyun, just keep trying, and then you’ll be back at your best. Your best being comfortably below me.”
“That wasn’t true even before you started smoking,” Woohyun points out, right as Sungkyu exclaims ’I quit!’. “It doesn’t matter, the damage is done.”
“It was only for four months, and I was rightfully stressed thanks to someone,” he says pointedly. Woohyun grins and presses a kiss against Sungkyu’s chest.
“It’s alright,” Woohyun says, “somebody has to make all the bad decisions.”
“Um… Between the two of us only one of us has a leaked sex tape, and it isn’t me.” Woohyun jolts upright and Sungkyu immediately wrestles him into a hug to pull him down again. “Sorry, sorry! Too soon, I got it.”
Woohyun shakes his head, his fringe brushing against Sungkyu’s forehead from the new position. “No, it’s--”
Sungkyu smacks a hand over Woohyun’s mouth. “We aren’t doing that right now,” he says, “save it for Woo Yejin so I can professionally wipe the floor with your incessant self-blame.”
Woohyun licks Sungkyu’s hand and Sungkyu pulls back disgusted. “Fuck Woo Yejin,” Woohyun says. He buries his head in the crook of Sungkyu’s neck, and places a few kisses there just because he can, and Woo Yejin can’t.
There’s a song in Sungkyu. He can’t tell you what it is, he can’t hum it if you asked him to. In all honesty, a song probably isn’t the best way to describe it. It’s not like when he had ‘What’s Your Name’ stuck in his head for three weeks straight. It’s more subdued. Evident and present the same way his heartbeat is. It’s also off-key, and Sungkyu knows it’s off-key, but he can’t do anything about it. Doesn’t even know exactly what key it’s meant to be played in, or even what melody is being played.
In fact, he doesn’t even know it’s playing until the mattress under him moves with Woohyun’s weight and suddenly it fits. He feels settled. The centre of gravity shifts with Woohyun’s body, it reaches the final cadence, Sungkyu tenses -- and then it never comes.
Woohyun lets out an annoyed growl from next to him. “What?” he slurs.
And there it is. Sungkyu inhales, feeling free of a burden he never knew he was carrying. Once it’s over, he looks at Woohyun sleeping next to him, and it’s just surreal. Completely surreal.
“Nothing,” he replies.
a/n: in between infinite fandom being dead, not even knowing what i was writing past the 5k point, not wanting to write anymore at the 7k point, and crying when the fic just wouldn't end -- the only thing that got me through this was the realisation i had never written woogyu before despite it being my infinite otp. so... *strums guitar* this one's for you woogyu. this was basically written with "last romeo" on repeat the entire way through. and as usual, constructive criticism is welcome, especially since i was taking a HUGE leap in regards to writing woohyun here.