una palabra no dice nada /y al mismo tiempo lo esconde todo
Title: The Devil in You, I Suppose
Fandom: Super Junior
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Shihan
Summary: Enough inertia can excuse anything
A/N: For my reluctant translator and much appreciated bed-warmer, bittersnow. I know May was a long time ago, I fail at punctuality ;__;
He knows that even though Siwon is smiling at him right now, open and affectionate, it will be gone in the morning when he rolls over and finds the sheets are cold, just like they will be from tomorrow out. Hankyung decides that what will wrap his hand around the straps of his duffle, what will force one foot in front of the other, what will pry his fingers from the doorjamb tomorrow, will be nothing less than the truth. He'll tell himself that Siwon will understand, that he won't feel used or abandoned. Because Siwon will remember that evening in the hospital (any night, any hospital), trying to stand up after pushing an IV drip too quickly, how he was strong enough to push through the pain and get on his feet. He'll also remember Hankyung gripping the railing of the bed, stumbling along after him, weak.
He's not sure which would be worse, Siwon remembering him like that, or Siwon thinking he'd had a certain strength in him all along, that he was independent (callous) enough to walk away and never regret his decision not to look back. He exhales heavily; the knot in his chest, weeks old, pulling into a tight ache on the next breath in. He has a feeling that very few things in his life are going to be easy answers.
Siwon waves a hand in front of his face and Hankyung fights the recently reflexive urge to say you were never a stepping stone, but what comes out is an apology for the wrong thing, "Sorry."
"It's alright," Siwon shrugs, aiming the remote in his hands and pressing buttons at random, "Maybe you should get some rest."
Hankyung's throat seals neatly around the swell of something that feels a little like regret as Siwon finally manages to raise the volume. On screen a man's wailing in the over-dramatic throes of death in a recently cancelled mafia show mostly due to the predictable, dead-end plotline and possibly the shitty soundtrack. Siwon scoots a little closer, pillows shifting against the headboard as he reaches over to rub a knot at the curve of his shoulder that Hankyung didn't know he had, "Sure you're okay, hyung?"
He stares ahead at the mounted flatscreen; Siwon's fingers still in response to the tension that seeps across his shoulders as the supposed hero fires the final shot, ending the mafioso's howling abruptly. He makes a concerted effort to relax, focusing on the spreading pool of too-red blood. "I'm fine."
"Fine," Siwon laughs, "Very rarely means fine."
The inside of his mouth tastes bitter with guilt and apprehension from all the lies he'd told in favor of the secrets he'd kept. I am not fine, he wants to say, we are not fine, nothing is fine and I'm not sure making things fine was ever in my power and now it probably never will be. Instead he swallows around the intensifying acerbity and forces the closest thing to a smile that he can manage. The hand on his neck lifts and Siwon presses a hurried kiss against his cheek before busying himself with the remote again. Hankyung can tell, just by the set of his shoulders, that Siwon is dying to make it better.
He squeezes his eyes shut, but it only spreads the tears along his lashes and he knows as soon as he opens his eyes they will fall and Siwon will see and Siwon will know just what he's done.
But Siwon ends up pulling him against his chest in an awkward sort of hug, so he doesn't really get to see very much of Hankyung's waterworks, after all. But when Hankyung manages to pull himself together, more than a few shaky breaths later, there are tear-stains soaked into the material of Siwon's t-shirt. Before Hankyung can make an excuse for the spots or the redness of his eyes or his jagged breathing, Siwon flips the light off and pulls his shirt overhead, settling back against the pillows.
"I'm okay." he tells the dark.
Siwon answers, "Of course you are- but it's late, we should sleep."
Hankyung presses a hand to Siwon's bare chest and realises it's not enough. He leans down and eases their mouths together, tongue insistent even when Siwon tries to turn his head, laughing against Hankyung's parted lips. He gives in easily enough, slipping soft, needy sounds in between every touch of their lips, his hands finding their way (practice makes perfect) to Hankyung's waist, thumbs pressed to the jut of too-sharp hipbones. Siwon's careful of bruises even as he pulls Hankyung closer to him, breath puffing against his collarbone as Hankyung works the drawstring on his pajama bottoms; he drops a hand over Hankyung's, "Are you sure? I don't need-"
"I do. I mean, I want-"
In the dim, shifting light of the television, Hankyung thinks he sees something reflected in Siwon's eyes but then he's gasping into his neck as Siwon pushes in, air collapsing right out of his lungs as he curls his legs closer around Siwon's waist, desperate to remember as much of his touch as possible.
Siwon rocks against him, every thrust pulling Hankyung a little closer to the edge. He's tearing at the bedsheets, Siwon's voice in his ear telling him he looks feels is perfect, and he can't decide if he should just let go or hope there is such a thing as forever. But Siwon gets a hand around him, pumping him with smooth sure strokes, fist sliding slick and easy as Hankyung's hips cant up into it. He tries not to feel cheap and pathetic when he comes seconds behind Siwon, clinging to starburst flashes of pure contentment as Siwon sighs his name, utterly devout.
It's not the light; Siwon's eyes are wet, lashes clinging together as he stares down at Hankyung, gaze pinning him like he's some kind of exotic butterfly. He knows Siwon's not stupid, and that he deserves more (credit) than Hankyung had given him. But that was never going to be enough to change anything and when Siwon tilts his head down, lips pressing softly against Hankyung's, he kisses him like he already knows it, like he's well-aware that this kiss is going to have to hold him over indefinitely. Hankyung's not sure when they pulled apart, but he's still dazed and blinking back an insistent burn behind his eyes when Siwon rolls to the side and pulls the sheet up, letting it settle in the space between them.
"I have to be up early tomorrow, but you should sleep in,"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will." Siwon's voice sounds as hollow as Hankyung feels.
The stilted silence that follows is broken by the taptaptap of machine gun fire, the room exploding into flashes of color as a chase scene starts up. Hankyung knows exactly how it will end, but he still can't look away when it comes down to the muzzle of a gun pressed viciously against the temple of an average-looking businessman (one in three thousand).
"I thought they cancelled this."
"You know how they are, as soon as one goes, there's another ready to replace it."
He doesn't flinch when the gun discharges, just closes his eyes and briefly wonders if darkness is the only thing that keeps the sun from rising.
A/N II: Inspired wholly and completely (and sort of written along the lines of) Una Palabra//Carlos Varela. I'm not sure how I feel about this, it's pretty different from my usual and I struggled for months with this fic. I honestly didn't think I'd be able to write it, and tbh I'm not really keen on the parenthesis/overall tone. But it was a really good opportunity for me to uh idk expand my comfort zone (ie write Siwon) lol Hope you guys are all well <33
(edited 17/11/2010)
Fandom: Super Junior
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Shihan
Summary: Enough inertia can excuse anything
A/N: For my reluctant translator and much appreciated bed-warmer, bittersnow. I know May was a long time ago, I fail at punctuality ;__;
He knows that even though Siwon is smiling at him right now, open and affectionate, it will be gone in the morning when he rolls over and finds the sheets are cold, just like they will be from tomorrow out. Hankyung decides that what will wrap his hand around the straps of his duffle, what will force one foot in front of the other, what will pry his fingers from the doorjamb tomorrow, will be nothing less than the truth. He'll tell himself that Siwon will understand, that he won't feel used or abandoned. Because Siwon will remember that evening in the hospital (any night, any hospital), trying to stand up after pushing an IV drip too quickly, how he was strong enough to push through the pain and get on his feet. He'll also remember Hankyung gripping the railing of the bed, stumbling along after him, weak.
He's not sure which would be worse, Siwon remembering him like that, or Siwon thinking he'd had a certain strength in him all along, that he was independent (callous) enough to walk away and never regret his decision not to look back. He exhales heavily; the knot in his chest, weeks old, pulling into a tight ache on the next breath in. He has a feeling that very few things in his life are going to be easy answers.
Siwon waves a hand in front of his face and Hankyung fights the recently reflexive urge to say you were never a stepping stone, but what comes out is an apology for the wrong thing, "Sorry."
"It's alright," Siwon shrugs, aiming the remote in his hands and pressing buttons at random, "Maybe you should get some rest."
Hankyung's throat seals neatly around the swell of something that feels a little like regret as Siwon finally manages to raise the volume. On screen a man's wailing in the over-dramatic throes of death in a recently cancelled mafia show mostly due to the predictable, dead-end plotline and possibly the shitty soundtrack. Siwon scoots a little closer, pillows shifting against the headboard as he reaches over to rub a knot at the curve of his shoulder that Hankyung didn't know he had, "Sure you're okay, hyung?"
He stares ahead at the mounted flatscreen; Siwon's fingers still in response to the tension that seeps across his shoulders as the supposed hero fires the final shot, ending the mafioso's howling abruptly. He makes a concerted effort to relax, focusing on the spreading pool of too-red blood. "I'm fine."
"Fine," Siwon laughs, "Very rarely means fine."
The inside of his mouth tastes bitter with guilt and apprehension from all the lies he'd told in favor of the secrets he'd kept. I am not fine, he wants to say, we are not fine, nothing is fine and I'm not sure making things fine was ever in my power and now it probably never will be. Instead he swallows around the intensifying acerbity and forces the closest thing to a smile that he can manage. The hand on his neck lifts and Siwon presses a hurried kiss against his cheek before busying himself with the remote again. Hankyung can tell, just by the set of his shoulders, that Siwon is dying to make it better.
He squeezes his eyes shut, but it only spreads the tears along his lashes and he knows as soon as he opens his eyes they will fall and Siwon will see and Siwon will know just what he's done.
But Siwon ends up pulling him against his chest in an awkward sort of hug, so he doesn't really get to see very much of Hankyung's waterworks, after all. But when Hankyung manages to pull himself together, more than a few shaky breaths later, there are tear-stains soaked into the material of Siwon's t-shirt. Before Hankyung can make an excuse for the spots or the redness of his eyes or his jagged breathing, Siwon flips the light off and pulls his shirt overhead, settling back against the pillows.
"I'm okay." he tells the dark.
Siwon answers, "Of course you are- but it's late, we should sleep."
Hankyung presses a hand to Siwon's bare chest and realises it's not enough. He leans down and eases their mouths together, tongue insistent even when Siwon tries to turn his head, laughing against Hankyung's parted lips. He gives in easily enough, slipping soft, needy sounds in between every touch of their lips, his hands finding their way (practice makes perfect) to Hankyung's waist, thumbs pressed to the jut of too-sharp hipbones. Siwon's careful of bruises even as he pulls Hankyung closer to him, breath puffing against his collarbone as Hankyung works the drawstring on his pajama bottoms; he drops a hand over Hankyung's, "Are you sure? I don't need-"
"I do. I mean, I want-"
In the dim, shifting light of the television, Hankyung thinks he sees something reflected in Siwon's eyes but then he's gasping into his neck as Siwon pushes in, air collapsing right out of his lungs as he curls his legs closer around Siwon's waist, desperate to remember as much of his touch as possible.
Siwon rocks against him, every thrust pulling Hankyung a little closer to the edge. He's tearing at the bedsheets, Siwon's voice in his ear telling him he looks feels is perfect, and he can't decide if he should just let go or hope there is such a thing as forever. But Siwon gets a hand around him, pumping him with smooth sure strokes, fist sliding slick and easy as Hankyung's hips cant up into it. He tries not to feel cheap and pathetic when he comes seconds behind Siwon, clinging to starburst flashes of pure contentment as Siwon sighs his name, utterly devout.
It's not the light; Siwon's eyes are wet, lashes clinging together as he stares down at Hankyung, gaze pinning him like he's some kind of exotic butterfly. He knows Siwon's not stupid, and that he deserves more (credit) than Hankyung had given him. But that was never going to be enough to change anything and when Siwon tilts his head down, lips pressing softly against Hankyung's, he kisses him like he already knows it, like he's well-aware that this kiss is going to have to hold him over indefinitely. Hankyung's not sure when they pulled apart, but he's still dazed and blinking back an insistent burn behind his eyes when Siwon rolls to the side and pulls the sheet up, letting it settle in the space between them.
"I have to be up early tomorrow, but you should sleep in,"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will." Siwon's voice sounds as hollow as Hankyung feels.
The stilted silence that follows is broken by the taptaptap of machine gun fire, the room exploding into flashes of color as a chase scene starts up. Hankyung knows exactly how it will end, but he still can't look away when it comes down to the muzzle of a gun pressed viciously against the temple of an average-looking businessman (one in three thousand).
"I thought they cancelled this."
"You know how they are, as soon as one goes, there's another ready to replace it."
He doesn't flinch when the gun discharges, just closes his eyes and briefly wonders if darkness is the only thing that keeps the sun from rising.
A/N II: Inspired wholly and completely (and sort of written along the lines of) Una Palabra//Carlos Varela. I'm not sure how I feel about this, it's pretty different from my usual and I struggled for months with this fic. I honestly didn't think I'd be able to write it, and tbh I'm not really keen on the parenthesis/overall tone. But it was a really good opportunity for me to uh idk expand my comfort zone (ie write Siwon) lol Hope you guys are all well <33
(edited 17/11/2010)