(no subject)
The Miracles || jiyong/seungri ||
All it pretty much boils down to is the fact that Jiyong has managed to cock-up the only relationship he's ever truly wanted.
They’re curled around one another, its winter outside and a summer of warmth under their shared blankets. Seungri pretends to be asleep and Jiyong pretends to think Seungri’s asleep. Jiyong kisses red marks down Seungri’s neck and whispers his love in a thousand languages. Seungri is stiff and silent and doesn’t shiver.
“You’re beautiful. I love everything about you. When you dance and sing and when you mess-up and turn that gorgeous red. It’s all so fucking beautiful.”
Seungri’s heart thunders in his chest as he bites his bottom lip between his teeth.
“You make me so god-damn hot.”
Seungri’s eyes clench and the alcohol on Jiyong’s breath permeates the tiny room.
------
People rush around them like ants under attack and Seungri doesn’t react at all when Jiyong’s arm circles his shoulders. The stage is a clash of rainbows, Taeyang and Daesung are taking advantage of the buffet, Seunghyun is on a bathroom-break and producers, managers, agents, photographers are making Big Bang’s fake little world perfect.
“It’s all about us,” Jiyong whispers dirty in Seungri’s ear. “All this messed-up shit is about us, but they all move too fast to notice us. It’s pathetic. I could kiss you right here and they’d never notice. I could leave and they’d never notice. I could take you with me and they’d never fucking notice. I could kiss you...”
Jiyong’s face looms closer to Seungri’s and the boy turns away with a frown. “Jiyong.”
“Let me kiss you, Seungri.”
“Why do you only ever want to kiss me when we’re surrounded by other people, Jiyong? Or when you’re shit-faced drunk? You want a damned reaction from somebody, is that it? Well I’m not going to be you’re front page.”
Seungri pulled himself away from Jiyong and stumbled his way over microphone cables and his own aching heart. He needed fresh air and the traffic-polluted wind burned its way down his throat. His eyes watered.
------
Seungri’s head hangs low over the bathroom sink as he tries not to cry. He can hear the roar of the crowd outside the door, he can hear the rush and stress of the backstage and he can hear the creak of a door and click of a lock as Jiyong moves to his side.
“There you are,” Jiyong says with a grin and Seungri can almost feel his adrenalin.
“Here I am.”
Jiyong is silent for the second before his lips press against Seungri’s cheek, against the corner of Seungri’s lips.
“Don’t, hyung. I just want a moment, please.”
“Let me kiss you. Let me love you. Stop fucking closing me off, damn-it! I trying to tell you I love you.”
Seungri raised his eyes, his quiet, tired, sad eyes. “You love the idea of saying you’re in love with me, Jiyong. ‘Cause wouldn’t that be brilliant; the leader and the maknae. A match made in fucking heaven, wouldn’t you say? Leave me alone.”
Seungri slid past Jiyong’s side and ignored the angered cry and smack of porcelain as he made his way, almost mindlessly, to the waiting room.
------
“I told him I love him, but he turned me down. See how unhappy he makes his hyung.”
Jiyong laughs and jokes and plays it up and makes it so much harder for Seungri to keep smiling.
“You wish, hyung.”
“Oh, I do, baby. That’s the problem isn’t it?”
And for a moment it’s as if it’s just the two of them; the fans and the interviewer and the rest of the band and the camera men and the microphone techs and everyone else in the world disappears and it’s Kwon Jiyong telling Lee Seunghyun he loves him in all honesty.
A second later Jiyong cracks a grin and the spell is broken, the crowd rumbles in amusement and Seungri blushes a deep red as his brow furrows in an attempt to stop the tears that want so dearly to escape.
Hours later Seungri’s face is blank as he sits, stiff-backed, in the lounge. Daesung is to his right and Taeyang to his left. They all ignore the rising argument in the kitchen.
“You are such a heartless bastard, you know that?” Seunghyun murmurs, his voice low and clear and so very disappointed.
“What are you on about?”
“You know what I’m on about, Jiyong. Why do you do that to him? It’s disgusting. It makes me sick. He’s your maknae, you’re his hyung. You are not meant to treat him like that.”
“Treat him like what, Seunghyun? What exactly do you know? What exactly do you think you know?” Jiyong’s voice is bland and sarcastic. Seungri closes his eyes.
“I know you damn well break his heart with your fucking mouth. I know you never stop to think about what you’re going to say the moment before you say it. I know that all he ever does is try and please you, appease you and I know that you spit it back in his face every single time. I think I know I damn sight more than you, actually.”
“You know all that, do you? Ever think that I love him. That I was just joking?”
“Everything’s a joke to you, Jiyong, and that’s the problem. If you pulled your head out of your own atmosphere once in a while you might actually see what you’re doing to him. You say you love him? You have a pretty fucked-up way of showing it.”
Daesung lowers his head as Seunghyun crashes his way down the hallway and into his room near the back of the house. Jiyong is silent for what seems like hours in Seungri’s head before he moves toward their shared bedroom.
Seungri clutches at the front of Seunghyun’s shirt as he cries himself to sleep in the older boys embrace. Seunghyun’s bed is smaller and his blanket softer and Seungri jumps at each crash and boom that erupts from the next room as Jiyong curses along with the night.
It’s the first time in as long as Seungri can remember that he has not slept in the curl of Jiyong’s arms.
And it’s the next in a long-string of nights that he cries himself to sleep.
------
Jiyong is hung-over. He’s so hung-over he’s seeing rainbows as he retches into the toilet. Seungri sobs, his back to the bathroom door, the slab of wood separating him from Jiyong.
“I love you, Seungri,” Jiyong calls and Seungri cries harder. “You ungrateful brat, I love you.”
Seungri tells himself it’s the alcohol that’s talking. It was a lot easier to tell himself that last night, though, than it is this morning.
-------
It’s a perfect day. The sun is bright through the window, the breeze is cool on Seungri’s face and he smiles as he pours himself another cup of orange juice. It’s like the world has come out to celebrate their day off as well. He almost laughs.
Jiyong enters the kitchen with his hair a tangled mess and his pants hanging off his hips. “Morning, Seungri.”
“Good morning, hyung,” Seungri replies with a lowered head.
They stand side-by-side as Jiyong waits for his coffee to brew, as Seungri sips his drink. Seungri tries to ignore the arm that Jiyong has crept along his waist, doesn’t react as he’s coaxed to turn. Jiyong kisses him, soft and demanding all at once. His fingers’ bruising at Seungri’s hips, at his shoulder, as Jiyong presses him against the bench top.
The coffee-pot whistles its finish and Seungri doesn’t move a muscle.
Jiyong pulls away with a sneer. “Go to your fucking room, maknae.”
Seungri winces as Jiyong crashes his way around the kitchen and stomps his way around the house. His lips tingle and his heart slows with heartache.
------
8.47pm.
I’m sorry.
Love J.
9.01pm.
S.
I’m kinda a dick and you’re kinda an angel for putting up with me like you’ve done for all these years.
J.
9.12pm.
You just look so beautiful and sometimes I can’t handle myself. If that’s a crime, I’m guilty.
Jiyong.
9.36pm.
Seungri.
I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m a stupid, fucking idiot who needs to learn when to shut the fuck up and move away. You should be used to that by now.
I know I hurt you. I know I’m hurting you but I just can’t stop, I can’t stop my lips from speaking and I can’t stop my arms from clutching at you. It’s fucked-up. I know that. I know that. You don’t have to tell me. But you’re just so... You’re always there. And sometimes it gets so hard. Sometimes I convince myself you like it; that you like me. And I just get so caught up in my own stupid head and forget you. I forget what you -really- want; that thing that isn’t me.
I just hate it. I hate that I make you cry. I hate that you won’t let me kiss your falling tears, kiss your lips and lay you down to sleep. I only want to care for you. But I can’t even do that. All I do is harm.
And all it pretty much boils down to is the fact that I constantly cock-up the only real relationship I’ve ever truly wanted. And I just can’t help myself.
I’m sorry.
Much love,
Your Jiyong.
9.41pm.
I’m going to go out and get hammered now.
xx
Seungri’s fingers hover of his key-board as he reads Jiyong’s emails, as he tries to believe Jiyong’s words. His fingers shake and he wonders at how many drinks Jiyong had probably ingested by now; three hours after his last email.
------
Seungri is awake when Jiyong’s stumbles his way into their bed, his breath heavy with a cocktail of alcohols and expensive perfumes. Seungri imagines all the pretty-girls that had probably lined up to dance with Jiyong. He imagines Jiyong kissing them. He imagines them not turning down Jiyong’s creeping hands and lying words.
Jiyong sighs as he tugs the blanket over his shoulders, sliding over the sheets to be closer to Seungri, to the slight dip in the middle, to Seungri’s side of the bed.
His arms are tight around Seungri’s body, his lips moist against Seungri’s neck. He either doesn’t notice the younger boy’s shivers, or he doesn’t care.
Seungri prays and prays and prays and doesn’t believe in God.
------
“You want to go out with me today, Seungri?” Taeyang asks over breakfast and Seungri can’t nod his answer quick enough.
“I haven’t been shopping in forever,” Seungri says with a smile. “When do you want to go?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Seungri smiled, pulling his chair away from the table with a scrape. “I’ll go get ready now, alright? Thanks, hyung?” He hugged Taeyang around the neck and hurried out of the kitchen, screaming to Daesung to get out of the bathroom as he went.
Taeyang finished his breakfast in silence, his lips pulled into a grin at his maknae’s energy; sometimes these kids made him feel so old.
“What are you doing?”
Taeyang raised his eyes as Jiyong entered the kitchen, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What am I doing?”
“Why are you taking him out?”
Taeyang watched Jiyong as the boy fumbled his way through a coffee brew; piling teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar into his dirty mug. “Did you sleep last night, Ji? Or did you drink away Korea’s coffee supply?”
“Answer the question, Tae.”
“I’m taking him out ‘cause he needs a break and I have a day off and some money to spend. Why is that a problem? You know maknae’s been down lately, I’m getting his mind off it.”
“You’re going to take him out on a date and buy him all the pretty, little things he wants to get his mind off it?”
“What’s the matter with you, Ji?”
“I’m having a conversation with you, Taeyang.”
“No, you’re being rude to me, Jiyong.”
“I’m asking you what you’re doing with Seungri.”
Taeyang was confused and agitated at Jiyong’s attempts to skirt around the centre of whatever this problem was. “And I told you I’m taking him out on his day off. I suggest you tell me what you think is wrong about this fact or I fear we’ll continue on in this circle forever. You’re most welcome to join us, if that’s the problem.”
Jiyong took a sip of his coffee as he watched Taeyang over the rim of his mug, his eyes blank and un-blinking. “I have lyrics to write,” he replied as he walked past Taeyang and down the hallway. “Have fun with him.”
A crash of a slamming door is heard a moment later and Taeyang flinches.
------
“Hyung?” Seungri whispers as he peers through the crack in Jiyong's door. “Hyung, are you awake?”
The room is silent, but for the soft tick-tick-tick of Jiyong’s keyboard. “I’m awake, Ri.”
Seungri creeps into the room, shutting the door behind him with a wary smile. “I came to see how you are. We brought you a present today; do you want to have a look?”
Jiyong stares blankly at other boy as Seungri bustles his way over to the bed, a heavy bag laden in his arms. “I’m glad you had fun.”
“What’s the matter, hyung?” Seungri questions at Jiyong’s tired tone.
“Nothing, maknae. I’m just a bit stretched.”
“We had the day off though. Didn’t you eat?”
“I was busy with lyrics, Ri, alright?”Jiyong snaps, his mind a blur of frustration and jealousy and love and broken, broken, broken bones.
“I’m sorry for bothering you then. I’ll just leave you in peace,” Seungri rises from the bed with a strained smile.
“No! Just. Just stay there, okay? I’m sorry. I’m just a little on edge right now. I need a drink.”
Seungri lowers his eyes to his lap as he relaxes back onto the bed. “Maybe you don’t need a drink, hyung.”
“Yeah, maybe I don’t. But who’s going to calm me down instead? You, baby?”
Seungri tries to look past the sneer and suggestion of Jiyong’s voice and reaches into his bag. “I bought you this. I thought you could wear it with that jacket you have, you know the one? The yellow matches.”
“The one you stole from me?”
“Borrowed. I borrowed it from you.”
“Whatever, maknae,” Jiyong chuckles, hating the way he teases and hating the way Seungri accepts it. “I don’t mind if you steal my clothes, they always look prettier on you anyway.”
He just can’t stop though.
------
Seungri comes home to find Jiyong lying on the kitchen table, his knees bent and a broken coffee mug in pieces on the floor.
“Hyung, what are you doing?” He cries as he hurries into the kitchen, his heart-rate building in a mix of almost-fear and surprise.
Jiyong rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes, his lips spreading into smile; a pretend, rotten smile that represents everything but happiness. Seungri knows that grin.
“Too tired to move, too awake to sleep. You know how it is.”
“Why are you on the table? You’ll do your back in and we have practise tomorrow.”
Jiyong laughs, a slow, breathy laugh that forces its way out of his lungs. “I’ve already done my head in, why not the back next?”
“That’s not funny, hyung.”
“I wasn’t really trying to be funny, maknae.”
Seungri kinda hates the way their conversations have turned into plastic words and hidden meanings. He hates that everything Jiyong says is usually emotionless nothings used to hide whatever it is he’s protecting.
He hates that Jiyong’s pants have slid low and that his hip-bones are pale and that all he wants to do is crawl onto the table beside him.
“I’m going to have a bath, Ji.”
“Are you asking me to join you?”
Seungri ignores Jiyong’s question and makes his way toward the bathroom, his heart thumping rhythms in his chest.
“I love you, Seungri,” Jiyong yells and Seungri can hear the taunts in his voice. “Although I might be laughing loud and hearty, deep inside I’m blue~”
------
Jiyong’s out and Jiyong’s alone. It take him a thousand drinks and a thousand refused kisses and a thousand nights hugging a corpse for him to wake up to his own head. He curses himself into the dirty table of a dirty club and doesn’t cry.
------
I’m coming home, maknae. Wait up for me? Jiyong’s text reads and Seungri doesn’t know why he answers yes, answers yes like he always does.
It’s cool when Seungri makes his way out onto the front step. He shuts the front door behind him before huddling in the chilled night air, his arms wrapped around his shins and his chin resting on his knees. He’s cold and he’s waiting and Jiyong’s taxicab pulls up twenty-minutes later.
Jiyong crouches by Seungri and minutes pass in silence.
“I’m sitting at the bar,” Jiyong begins, “and this club is going crazy. And I’m sitting there and I have this full glass in front of me and I’m not drinking. This girl kept coming up to me, I think her friend’s were daring her or something, and she keeps asking me to dance and I just sit there. I don’t even speak,” he pauses with a soft laugh. “And then this song comes on through the speakers, I’m in the middle of this one-am nightclub and all I can think about is you.”
Seungri hugs his legs tighter.
“And there wasn’t anyone else there with me, Seungri, and I wasn’t drunk. All I could think about was you though, sweetie. All I could think about was how much I hurt you.”
“Jiyong...”
“I know you think I’m lying. I know I don’t treat you right. But I just- Sometimes I just want to hold you.”
Seungri bit his lip as he relaxed his fingers from around his ankles and moved a step down on their front porch to be closer to Jiyong. The older boy sighed in happiness and tears as he brought Seungri closer, tugging the boy to his side, to his lap. “Oh baby, I hurt you so bad.”
They sat there, in an awkward twist of arms and legs and Seungri watches as the tears collect in Jiyong’s eye-lashes.
“Now, come on,” Jiyong said as he pulled away from Seungri, before rising on weary legs. “What would your mama say if she knew I let her baby catch a cold?” He grasped each of Seungri’s hands and lifted the boy beside him. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I have some lyrics I want to work on. You go ahead of me.”
Seungri pauses for a moment, hovering between Jiyong and the bedroom. “Goodnight, Jiyong.”
“Night, baby.”
Jiyong blows a kiss to Seungri’s retreating back and doesn’t sleep a wink all night.
------
Jiyong kisses Seungri under the cocoon of their blankets; there are no cameras and Jiyong’s lips taste of cherry pop. It’s the first time Seungri doesn’t pull away. He’s silent and unresponsive and shivering with emotion, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I love you, maknae.”
Seungri’s head still doesn’t believe Jiyong’s promises, his heart is learning to.
“I love you like the sun and the moon.”
------