Stale Bread
Title: Stale Bread
Pairing(s): JunSeung
Rating: PG-13+
Word Count: 1,080
Summary: Two psychotic lovers collapse under monotony.
A/N: Late night musings. I don't know where I was going with this.
Hyunseung gripped the plate of food.
“Do you want a biscuit?” asked he to the man seated at the round table.
Junhyung folded his newspaper in half. He folded it into second half. He affectionately sucked on his cigarette.
He did not answer Hyunseung’s question.
A vessel erupted. Hyunseung smashed the thin china saucer of tea biscuits onto the counter. It shattered expectantly. The speckled shards were sprinkled onto his bare feet along with biscuits and their crusts. Hyunseung strode, his long legs flying, until he stood adjacent to his partner.
“Do you want a fucking biscuit or not, Junhyung-”
“You ask me that every goddamn fucking morning Hyunseung and I don’t ever get one so what the fuck do you think?” Junhyung spat, his eyes stabbing up and into the leaner of the two’s. It was a prolonged gaze.
“So it’s like that?” Hyunseung calmly inquired, holding on to Junhyung’s impervious pupils. His lips were set in a bold line.
“Yeah. It’s like that,” Junhyung licked waspishly, talking through his cigarette. He returned his face to his paper. His love. He flipped to the next page.
Hyunseung slapped the whole left side of Junhyung’s face. An echo resounded.
Junhyung withered. Junhyung struggled to find a stable sitting in his seat. Blood promptly rushed beneath the stricken pale skin. The end of his cigarette continued to burn on the tiled floor. Instinctively, the man snapped to his feet and pinched both his hands constrictively about Hyunseung’s upper arms. He kept him close.
“You fucking bitch,” he murmured.
“You gonna hit me Junhyung?” Hyunseung whispered, looking to the latter underneath his lashes.
“Fucking crazy bitch,” Junhyung squeezed harder, “Psycho ass bitch.”
Hyunseung’s bones complained; he would not let his partner know.
“Thank you.”
“You got one more fucking time to fucking pull off some shit like that-”
“Or else what? You empty-threatening motherfucker. You’re not gonna do a damn thing. Not a damn thing. Like always. Pussy.”
Junhyung rapidly wet his lips.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Not a damn thing,” Hyunseung replied with a jerk of his neck at every syllable and Junhyung kneed him in his stomach with a thrust of his right shin. Hyunseung yelped and very literally flopped to the tile. He gagged and coughed. He clutched his stomach. Junhyung observed the spectacle. He laughed to himself. He plucked his cigarette from the floor and took two very long puffs; he sat in his chair normally again and fingered his fallen newspaper.
Hyunseung, panting, drug his eyes up to Junhyung. His shirt slugged off his right shoulder. His vibrant tresses were errant. He was no longer short of breath.
Hyunseung crawled and grabbed a broken shard. He loosed a banshee battle cry and sprang from that area on the floor. Junhyung was knocked out of his chair, tackled. Hyunseung raised the china dagger; it hovered just above Junhyung’s sternum. He had the man pinned to the floor.
Junhyung clutched the shard. They struggled for power. The porcelain sliced into the flesh of their hands, producing a twin incision they would share forever. Blood dribbled out and onto their bodies and lastly to the floor.
"Fuck, Hyunseung!"
“You wanna see a psycho bitch?”
“F-Fucking drop it Hyunseung!”
“I’ll fucking kill you Junhyung. Don’t you ever fucking forget that,” promised Hyunseung through his teeth, “Don’t you ever, ever fucking forget that.”
Junhyung eventually gained the upper hand on his partner, it coming at a cost of a deeper and less superficial cut in his palm. He salvaged the shard and chucked it across the kitchen with a grunt. Hyunseung started screaming and shouting and clawing at him in a blind, fixed fury. He was seemingly possessed. Junhyung shielded himself from the attack with his arms.
“HYUNSEUNG.”
Hyunseung did not stop passionately tearing into the flesh beneath him. Streaks of red ate into Junhyung’s skin. Blood was summoned. Blood droplets were everywhere. They blinded Junhyung. So he fought back. Blindly. And he got lucky.
Junhyung punched Hyunseung. He punched him in his eye. It immobilized the latter.
It immobilized him.
---
Light conversation ensues over dinner. Junhyung brought home steaks.
“I’m leaving,” said Hyunseung.
“What?”
“I’m leaving,” Hyunseung stated. His black eye wept, “I’m going back to mom’s.”
Junhyung chewed the tough steak, swallowed, and prepared a second piece.
“Shut up and eat.”
“I fucking mean it Junhyung. I’m leaving.”
Junhyung forked the second morsel into his mouth.
Hyunseung began to stand. Junhyung’s flat palms slapped the wooden table hard. A sharp sound nipped their eardrums.
“Hyunseung shut the fuck up. You’re not going anywhere and you fucking know it. Shut the fuck up. Sit down. Sit the fuck down and fucking eat.”
“I’m tired of you treating me like a child.”
“You act like a child. It’s your fucking mouth. Your smart-ass mouth.”
“You didn’t have to fucking punch me.”
“I was supposed to lie there and let you kill me? No. Shut up and eat.”
“No. Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking steaks!” Hyunseung ripped upstairs for the bedroom. The door boomed behind him.
Junhyung carried on with his steaks.
---
Hyunseung lay in bed. Rain was plastering itself onto the roof of their home. It hadn’t rained in days for it being a rainy pair of weeks. That was new.
His heavy brown eyes were cast down onto his pillow. But he was not in thought. Nothing came in his head. Nothing left.
Nothing came, nothing left.
Junhyung came. He brought an ice pack with him.
“Get the fuck out of my room.”
“This my fucking room too.”
“It’s mine tonight. Get out before I fucking make you.”
“Make me then.”
Hyunseung tossed the blankets back. His feet crashed into the floor. He faced Junhyung. His tender, scarred hand elevated, preparing for a strike.
Junhyung caught his wrist, stopping him. He dropped his bag of ice to restrict the other hand as well. They stared at one another. Penetratingly. Unwaveringly.
Then their mouths came together in a hard uncomfortable kiss. They made more hard uncomfortable kisses as their arms and limbs wound tightly around each other. Junhyung towed his lean lover onto the bed. They tossed and tossed and stroked. They suffocated each other, forcefully disallowing the other breath through their kisses. The consequent tightness held beneath their breasts burned, but it burned pleasantly.
Bqhatevwr.
Sequel: Stale Tea
Pairing(s): JunSeung
Rating: PG-13+
Word Count: 1,080
Summary: Two psychotic lovers collapse under monotony.
A/N: Late night musings. I don't know where I was going with this.
Hyunseung gripped the plate of food.
“Do you want a biscuit?” asked he to the man seated at the round table.
Junhyung folded his newspaper in half. He folded it into second half. He affectionately sucked on his cigarette.
He did not answer Hyunseung’s question.
A vessel erupted. Hyunseung smashed the thin china saucer of tea biscuits onto the counter. It shattered expectantly. The speckled shards were sprinkled onto his bare feet along with biscuits and their crusts. Hyunseung strode, his long legs flying, until he stood adjacent to his partner.
“Do you want a fucking biscuit or not, Junhyung-”
“You ask me that every goddamn fucking morning Hyunseung and I don’t ever get one so what the fuck do you think?” Junhyung spat, his eyes stabbing up and into the leaner of the two’s. It was a prolonged gaze.
“So it’s like that?” Hyunseung calmly inquired, holding on to Junhyung’s impervious pupils. His lips were set in a bold line.
“Yeah. It’s like that,” Junhyung licked waspishly, talking through his cigarette. He returned his face to his paper. His love. He flipped to the next page.
Hyunseung slapped the whole left side of Junhyung’s face. An echo resounded.
Junhyung withered. Junhyung struggled to find a stable sitting in his seat. Blood promptly rushed beneath the stricken pale skin. The end of his cigarette continued to burn on the tiled floor. Instinctively, the man snapped to his feet and pinched both his hands constrictively about Hyunseung’s upper arms. He kept him close.
“You fucking bitch,” he murmured.
“You gonna hit me Junhyung?” Hyunseung whispered, looking to the latter underneath his lashes.
“Fucking crazy bitch,” Junhyung squeezed harder, “Psycho ass bitch.”
Hyunseung’s bones complained; he would not let his partner know.
“Thank you.”
“You got one more fucking time to fucking pull off some shit like that-”
“Or else what? You empty-threatening motherfucker. You’re not gonna do a damn thing. Not a damn thing. Like always. Pussy.”
Junhyung rapidly wet his lips.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Not a damn thing,” Hyunseung replied with a jerk of his neck at every syllable and Junhyung kneed him in his stomach with a thrust of his right shin. Hyunseung yelped and very literally flopped to the tile. He gagged and coughed. He clutched his stomach. Junhyung observed the spectacle. He laughed to himself. He plucked his cigarette from the floor and took two very long puffs; he sat in his chair normally again and fingered his fallen newspaper.
Hyunseung, panting, drug his eyes up to Junhyung. His shirt slugged off his right shoulder. His vibrant tresses were errant. He was no longer short of breath.
Hyunseung crawled and grabbed a broken shard. He loosed a banshee battle cry and sprang from that area on the floor. Junhyung was knocked out of his chair, tackled. Hyunseung raised the china dagger; it hovered just above Junhyung’s sternum. He had the man pinned to the floor.
Junhyung clutched the shard. They struggled for power. The porcelain sliced into the flesh of their hands, producing a twin incision they would share forever. Blood dribbled out and onto their bodies and lastly to the floor.
"Fuck, Hyunseung!"
“You wanna see a psycho bitch?”
“F-Fucking drop it Hyunseung!”
“I’ll fucking kill you Junhyung. Don’t you ever fucking forget that,” promised Hyunseung through his teeth, “Don’t you ever, ever fucking forget that.”
Junhyung eventually gained the upper hand on his partner, it coming at a cost of a deeper and less superficial cut in his palm. He salvaged the shard and chucked it across the kitchen with a grunt. Hyunseung started screaming and shouting and clawing at him in a blind, fixed fury. He was seemingly possessed. Junhyung shielded himself from the attack with his arms.
“HYUNSEUNG.”
Hyunseung did not stop passionately tearing into the flesh beneath him. Streaks of red ate into Junhyung’s skin. Blood was summoned. Blood droplets were everywhere. They blinded Junhyung. So he fought back. Blindly. And he got lucky.
Junhyung punched Hyunseung. He punched him in his eye. It immobilized the latter.
It immobilized him.
---
Light conversation ensues over dinner. Junhyung brought home steaks.
“I’m leaving,” said Hyunseung.
“What?”
“I’m leaving,” Hyunseung stated. His black eye wept, “I’m going back to mom’s.”
Junhyung chewed the tough steak, swallowed, and prepared a second piece.
“Shut up and eat.”
“I fucking mean it Junhyung. I’m leaving.”
Junhyung forked the second morsel into his mouth.
Hyunseung began to stand. Junhyung’s flat palms slapped the wooden table hard. A sharp sound nipped their eardrums.
“Hyunseung shut the fuck up. You’re not going anywhere and you fucking know it. Shut the fuck up. Sit down. Sit the fuck down and fucking eat.”
“I’m tired of you treating me like a child.”
“You act like a child. It’s your fucking mouth. Your smart-ass mouth.”
“You didn’t have to fucking punch me.”
“I was supposed to lie there and let you kill me? No. Shut up and eat.”
“No. Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking steaks!” Hyunseung ripped upstairs for the bedroom. The door boomed behind him.
Junhyung carried on with his steaks.
---
Hyunseung lay in bed. Rain was plastering itself onto the roof of their home. It hadn’t rained in days for it being a rainy pair of weeks. That was new.
His heavy brown eyes were cast down onto his pillow. But he was not in thought. Nothing came in his head. Nothing left.
Nothing came, nothing left.
Junhyung came. He brought an ice pack with him.
“Get the fuck out of my room.”
“This my fucking room too.”
“It’s mine tonight. Get out before I fucking make you.”
“Make me then.”
Hyunseung tossed the blankets back. His feet crashed into the floor. He faced Junhyung. His tender, scarred hand elevated, preparing for a strike.
Junhyung caught his wrist, stopping him. He dropped his bag of ice to restrict the other hand as well. They stared at one another. Penetratingly. Unwaveringly.
Then their mouths came together in a hard uncomfortable kiss. They made more hard uncomfortable kisses as their arms and limbs wound tightly around each other. Junhyung towed his lean lover onto the bed. They tossed and tossed and stroked. They suffocated each other, forcefully disallowing the other breath through their kisses. The consequent tightness held beneath their breasts burned, but it burned pleasantly.
Bqhatevwr.
Sequel: Stale Tea