[infinite] hallway futures and hairline fractures
Title: hallway futures and hairline fractures
Rating: pg-13
Word count: 680
Summary: Sunggyu hates pop music.
hallway futures and hairline fractures
we are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine
eduardo galeano
∞
His alarm goes off at four thirty am. He presses the snooze button exactly three times, and finally gets out of bed when the radio resumes playing Heaven and Hell, their latest single.
Sunggyu really, really hates that song.
He pulls himself out of bed, slowly adjusting to the chill permeating their apartment. It's a big, spacious place--their third since debut--but it has huge, honest windows which Sunggyu had never liked in the first place and disliked even more intensely when he figured out how much their lack of insulation would add to Infinite's montly heating bill.
"We can afford it," Sungjong had said.
"That doesn't mean we should."
But Woohyun had loved the windows and Hoya hadn't minded either way and Dongwoo wanted his own room, so he had been easily outvoted. They'd moved in after winning their second consecutive Daesang, celebrating the award and the three block distance from the apartment Hyoan, Jungryoul, and Youngjin shared. They'd gotten drunk on expensive liquor which had been given to them as gifts by Inspirits around the world.
“Just in case it doesn’t last,” Sungyeol had said, indicating the racks of bottles.
It lasted. They called Infinite one of the last success stories of the Hallyu wave. Sunggyu still has a creased and fading eight-year-old copy of that interview. He grabs a clean shirt and jeans and shimmies out of his pyjamas.
By the time he shuffles into the kitchen, Woohyun is already weighing quarters of fruit on a scale, careful not to exceed his allowed caloric intake, Myungsoo is checking both his and Infinite's ranking on all of the music search engines, and Sungyeol is stretching.
"Good run?"
"Met those crazy stalkers again," Sungyeol says. "Don’t worry. I chased them off."
Woohyun shrugs. "You really shouldn't."
"Oh fuck off. They're annoying."
“Still. It’s bad for our image.”
Sunggyu opens the fridge and finds the tupperware container with his name scrawled along the side. It's smaller than it usually is.
"Just this?"
"Mmm," Woohyun mumbles distractedly, "they said you were getting a bit chubby. Wanted you to cut down on breakfast."
It makes sense, Sunggyu thinks. He doesn’t eat dinner anymore, and surely having a small salad for lunch doesn’t add all that much. He grabs a pair of chopsticks and joins Woohyun at the table.
"You should consider running with me in the morning. Might help."
"I work too fucking hard to get up early enough, unlike some of you."
"It’s because you spend all night in the dance studio! You haven’t gotten any faster at picking up our choreography," Hoya calls from the living room. “Sungjong manages!"
Even Myungsoo chuckles at the jibe. Sunggyu finds that he doesn't mind their incessant teasing, not nearly as much as he once did. He does still have to spend hours perfecting their synchronization, after all. It’s never come easily to him.
"We have to get ready," he says. "We need to leave in fifteen minutes."
They obey almost instantaneously. Over the years their teamwork has solidified into a strict hierarchy of expectations. Only Woohyun remains at the table, already perfectly prepared, as always.
The sun begins to bleed color, staining the edges of their windows. Sunggyu sighs and watches Woohyun continue to rebalance the scale, adjusting for minute differences. Sunggyu wants to tell him to just eat the entire fucking mango already.
"What happened to us," he asks instead. He remembers gulping down ramyun for breakfast and listening to Nell in the car, watching the videos he liked instead of constantly monitoring other groups just to have to something to say during interviews. Sunggyu shivers; the apartment is getting even colder, and someone has flicked the radio back on. This time, it’s eNoKa’s Why.
Sunggyu really hates pop music.
"Hmm?"
"I mean. To us. Infinite." To me.
Woohyun smiles and finally clears the scale, popping a very small sliver of fruit into his mouth. "Nothing. We became famous, didn't we?"
∞
a/n: thank you to my hipster beta, reifica, for the beautiful work hammering this into coherency.
Rating: pg-13
Word count: 680
Summary: Sunggyu hates pop music.
hallway futures and hairline fractures
we are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine
eduardo galeano
∞
His alarm goes off at four thirty am. He presses the snooze button exactly three times, and finally gets out of bed when the radio resumes playing Heaven and Hell, their latest single.
Sunggyu really, really hates that song.
He pulls himself out of bed, slowly adjusting to the chill permeating their apartment. It's a big, spacious place--their third since debut--but it has huge, honest windows which Sunggyu had never liked in the first place and disliked even more intensely when he figured out how much their lack of insulation would add to Infinite's montly heating bill.
"We can afford it," Sungjong had said.
"That doesn't mean we should."
But Woohyun had loved the windows and Hoya hadn't minded either way and Dongwoo wanted his own room, so he had been easily outvoted. They'd moved in after winning their second consecutive Daesang, celebrating the award and the three block distance from the apartment Hyoan, Jungryoul, and Youngjin shared. They'd gotten drunk on expensive liquor which had been given to them as gifts by Inspirits around the world.
“Just in case it doesn’t last,” Sungyeol had said, indicating the racks of bottles.
It lasted. They called Infinite one of the last success stories of the Hallyu wave. Sunggyu still has a creased and fading eight-year-old copy of that interview. He grabs a clean shirt and jeans and shimmies out of his pyjamas.
By the time he shuffles into the kitchen, Woohyun is already weighing quarters of fruit on a scale, careful not to exceed his allowed caloric intake, Myungsoo is checking both his and Infinite's ranking on all of the music search engines, and Sungyeol is stretching.
"Good run?"
"Met those crazy stalkers again," Sungyeol says. "Don’t worry. I chased them off."
Woohyun shrugs. "You really shouldn't."
"Oh fuck off. They're annoying."
“Still. It’s bad for our image.”
Sunggyu opens the fridge and finds the tupperware container with his name scrawled along the side. It's smaller than it usually is.
"Just this?"
"Mmm," Woohyun mumbles distractedly, "they said you were getting a bit chubby. Wanted you to cut down on breakfast."
It makes sense, Sunggyu thinks. He doesn’t eat dinner anymore, and surely having a small salad for lunch doesn’t add all that much. He grabs a pair of chopsticks and joins Woohyun at the table.
"You should consider running with me in the morning. Might help."
"I work too fucking hard to get up early enough, unlike some of you."
"It’s because you spend all night in the dance studio! You haven’t gotten any faster at picking up our choreography," Hoya calls from the living room. “Sungjong manages!"
Even Myungsoo chuckles at the jibe. Sunggyu finds that he doesn't mind their incessant teasing, not nearly as much as he once did. He does still have to spend hours perfecting their synchronization, after all. It’s never come easily to him.
"We have to get ready," he says. "We need to leave in fifteen minutes."
They obey almost instantaneously. Over the years their teamwork has solidified into a strict hierarchy of expectations. Only Woohyun remains at the table, already perfectly prepared, as always.
The sun begins to bleed color, staining the edges of their windows. Sunggyu sighs and watches Woohyun continue to rebalance the scale, adjusting for minute differences. Sunggyu wants to tell him to just eat the entire fucking mango already.
"What happened to us," he asks instead. He remembers gulping down ramyun for breakfast and listening to Nell in the car, watching the videos he liked instead of constantly monitoring other groups just to have to something to say during interviews. Sunggyu shivers; the apartment is getting even colder, and someone has flicked the radio back on. This time, it’s eNoKa’s Why.
Sunggyu really hates pop music.
"Hmm?"
"I mean. To us. Infinite." To me.
Woohyun smiles and finally clears the scale, popping a very small sliver of fruit into his mouth. "Nothing. We became famous, didn't we?"
∞
a/n: thank you to my hipster beta, reifica, for the beautiful work hammering this into coherency.