(woohyun/sungjong) finite, 1991, cardiac
Titles: finite | 1991 | cardiac
Pairing: Woohyun/Sungjong
Rating: G
three fics!
finite
They’re not friends, not exactly, but when a manager introduces Kim Sunggyu to the small group of assembled trainees, Woohyun feels Sungjong shift closer until a shoulder digs into his side.
Surprised, Woohyun turns to him but Sungjong’s eyes are fixed on the boy’s mouth as he introduces himself and talks briefly about his dreams. Woohyun tunes out because it’s just a variation of the same thing he’s heard for the past three months, each and every time they watch a new trainee enter their ranks.
“He’s here to sing,” Sungjong says quietly, finally turning to Woohyun.
“Aren’t we all?” Woohyun replies, confused.
Sungjong doesn’t elaborate. He turns back to face Sunggyu and it’s only then that Woohyun reels because it finally hits him: the way Jungyeop stands by the edge of the room, how his voice is gritty enough to fit Nell songs and the threadbare state of his polo shirt-Woohyun had auditioned with brand new sneakers he had bought with the money he had earned from his latest modeling project.
Sungjong doesn’t move away even after Kim Sunggyu stops talking, eyes strangely distant like he doesn’t quite understand what he just said or why he is standing here.
Woohyun meets Kim Sunggyu’s gaze and there is nothing and Sungjong’s shoulder is hard and bony against his side once more.
The pain feels like a pact.
1991
Sungjong is Hoya’s when they fall asleep in rooms filled with the watery light of dawn, whether in Seoul or someplace in Japan, and Sungjong is Sungyeol’s on stage, linked by the barely-there lines unless Sungyeol is not being Sungyeol but a pretty girl in a dress and Sungjong is not quite Sungjong.
Sungjong whispers into Hoya’s ear when they are not being idols and Sungjong and Sungyeol return to the dorm together when they are idols and Woohyun gets Sungjong in the shifts of time, like thirty-thousand feet in the air (cold hands under blankets) or in front of the cameras but before they start running (Sungjong’s fringe falls despite the hairspray and Woohyun leans in, pretending to sweep it back up).
“Woohyun,” Sungjong says, just because he can, just because Woohyun is his.
cardiac
“Aren’t you ever embarrassed by all that aegyo you do? The heart-throwing; the ridiculous sounds?”
“It’s not like you’ll do it, even though you’re the maknae right?” Woohyun’s voice is perfectly neutral.
Sungjong grins, teeth unnaturally white because they are-he had just been to the dentist. “Why don’t you let me try for a day?”
And the next day, Woohyun does: they’re at an outdoor concert and all Sungjong does is smile and make compact hearts with his hands. He doesn’t fling them in the air or throw them to the screaming fans.
“How did I do?” Sungjong asks that night, mouth pressed to Woohyun’s throat. “How am I doing?”
Sungjong’s words are cool but his breath, warm. His skin tingles. “The problem,” Woohyun gasps, “is that your heart is not into it.”
“I know,” Sungjong replies, drawing back. “But you’ll let me do it again tomorrow?”
“Why not?” Woohyun says. It doesn’t really matter what Sungjong is talking about, not when he is drawing a heart into his shoulder with his tongue and carving Woohyun’s heart out through skin.
+ concrit is welcomed!