Five gtop drabbles
Valentine -> February fourteenth: not a day with particular meaning for Seunghyun, but for Jiyong, it should have.
Movie Nights -> Watching a movie really was an excuse to make out and everyone knew that.
Concert -> "Just wanted to wish you good luck."
Tattoos -> Seunghyun looked at the ink on Jiyong’s skin and imagined running his fingers over it.
Hospital -> “The worst part is that I can’t drink any alcohol,” he said and Jiyong smiles a little ruefully.
1. Valentine
‘February fourteenth’ the date on his smartphone says. Not a day with particular meaning for Seunghyun (except that it’s still cold and the summer is still too far away) - but for Jiyong, it should have.
He’s the romantic one.
He’s the one hosting surprise events with balloons and candles and the whole Hollywood movie deal.
He’s certainly not the type to sit in a studio all day with no romantic prospects and not… well, complain about it.
But he hasn’t: either of the two. A rarity, if not unique, as far as Seunghyun can recall. Because if there are romantic prospects, there’s gleeful (or boastful) comments; if there aren’t, there’s sulking.
Silence is not an option.
But Jiyong’s focus is on the computer screen - has been for hours - as various beats emit from the speakers, fingers unconsciously drumming a rhythm, whole body subtly following suit.
Seunghyun nods along to the half (quarter?) finished song, mind on the music and then on Jiyong again - focussed, sharp, tired.
Content.
When Jiyong leans back in his chair as the song comes to an end, and he loudly stretches his arms, Seunghyun finally asks.
“Are you not aware of the date?”
Jiyong quirks an eyebrow at him, as if that notion is ridiculous, and ruffles his black-and-white hair, sure sign of a studio hours overdose.
“Of course I am,” he says, then leans forward past Seunghyun to get the bottle of coke standing there.
Their hands brush.
He leans back, unscrews the cap and drinks, neck exposed down to the unbuttoned collar of his Balmain blouse (remnant of his Parisian shopping days) and suddenly - suddenly Seunghyun gets it.
“Want some too?”
Jiyong sways the bottle in front of him.
"Yeah," Seunghyun answers, gaze on Jiyong's easy smile, gaze on the happy look in his eyes -- and smiles back unwittingly.
*
2. Movie Nights
Watching a movie really was an excuse to make out, and everyone knew that.
Of course, them being just friends, that didn’t really apply. Instead, ‘cuddling’ was key word.
Because contrary to his appearance and image -‘don’t touch me or I’ll stare you down’ - Seunghyun liked to cuddle. Not until after a few beers and with a plausible excuse for the both of them (‘we’re watching a movie’) but still.
Never one to deny himself something, Jiyong naturally was happy to play the part.
Tonight the movie of choice was a Bond one. Seunghyun had probably gotten the hang of the spy genre, or might expect to pick up some handy tips.
As usual the lights were dimmed. Seunghyun was seated to his left on the big leather couch, customary suit ditched for a rather more comfortable outfit. His eyes were on the screen. He looked slightly otherworldly like this, in the pale light of the television: otherworldly and handsome.
Jiyong averted his gaze, back to the screen. There was yet another explosion. Jiyong bit his lip, wondering when(if) Seunghyun was going to make his move.
He certainly wasn’t going to do it.
“Want another beer?” he prompted instead, thinking that might do the trick.
“Yeah” Seunghyun commented, and Jiyong handed him a brown bottle, along with getting one for himself.
More fight scenes followed, and more beer for the two of them. Jiyong was starting to feel slightly drowsy, though of course Seunghyun didn’t seem affected in any way.
Blasted alcohol tolerance.
Right then, though, the couch creaked slightly as Seunghyun suddenly moved closer to him. Jiyong kept his eyes fixed on the screen, but he couldn’t help smile when Seunghyun mumbled, “Move your arm a little,” all attention for the movie already gone.
As he obliged, Seunghyun put an arm around his shoulders, body warm; comfortable; strangely familiar for simultaneously being so foreign to him. Jiyong leaned into his touch, drowsy and happy.
He wasn’t drunk enough to realise that the alcohol couldn’t solely be blamed for those feelings, yet not sober enough to care.
The fighting on the screen turned into dialogue turned into making out (of course) and maybe this should be awkward, watching that kind of stuff while pressed together with your (male) best friend.
It was, a little - but of the sort you wouldn’t want to do away with anyway, like you were standing on the edge of a building and your mind said step back but your stomach twirled in anticipation.
Seunghyun’s hand trailed down his arm, then leisurely up again, and he had to focus on his breathing.
Jumping wasn’t the best idea, perhaps.
But nothing against teetering on the edge a little more.
*
3. Concert (note: takes place before Jiyong's concert in Seoul where he wasn't feeling well and TOP was among the guests.)
Getting sick on the day of your concert: most people would call that bad luck.
Jiyong certainly did, too.
Of course he’d manage, and of course he’d (almost) forget his condition once he was on stage and greeted by a choir of cheers - but still. It was irksome not to be in perfect shape.
The clock in the waiting room indicated that there were forty minutes left before he’d walk on stage. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up his muscles and ignore the buzz around him (stylist noonas chattering loudly; dancers walking in and out; the manager asking questions.)
Deep breath, focus. It had to be perfect, he had to be perfect.
There was the creeping feeling of self-doubt that he willed to go away, because this was not a good timing (was any of it good timing?) -
“Jiyong.”
His head snapped up from his reveries to unexpectedly be greeted by Seunghyun’s face.
“Hyung!” he exclaimed, not able to hide the surprise from his voice. “What are you doing down here?”
“Just wanted to wish you good luck,” Seunghyun replied, casually, yet there was a certain look in his eyes that made his belly feel all warm. “How are you?”
“Perfect,” Jiyong replied, “apart from suffering from a cold and insomnia at once.”
The corner of Seunghyun’s mouth turned up in a slightly self-deprecating way because this was familiar: running on medicine and one hour of sleep alone. It made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“You’ll pull it off,” Seunghyun merely said.
“I know,” he replied, like he always did, yet there was a strange feeling of vulnerability creeping over him, exposed by the man standing in front of him.
He wished they were alone, if only for a minute.
“You’ll be perfect, Jiyongie,” Seunghyun said again, but this time with a finality to his tone as though he’d read Jiyong’s doubts from both his face and years of personally knowing him.
He looked up and could see the conviction written on his hyung’s face; the sincerity in his eyes, that one place he could never truly mask.
Jiyong nodded once, then twice. Somehow he didn’t quite trust his voice.
“Seems like a lifetime ago you were writing your raps in those yellow notebooks and dreaming of making it big, huh?"
Jiyong laughed suddenly, the tension broken as quickly as it had arrived. “That is a lifetime ago, hyung.”
“Yeah, well. I’m just saying, it’s a good reminder, isn’t it?”
Jiyong smiled, because he knew what Seunghyun meant; he knew what he’d wanted to say.
“Thanks,” he said with sincerity - and was sure that Seunghyun knew what he meant, too.
*
4. Tattoos
With Jiyong every tattoo had its meaning, whether absurd or literal, quirky or serious. He’d always inform him of his plans before heading to the tattoo shop, but the explanation came later, if at all.
It didn’t matter. Seunghyun liked to guess.
And lately there happened to be loads of that: more tattoos and he’d become a walking piece of art, a joke to which Jiyong snorted and filled up his glass again; rare nights in which they talked and their omnipresent schedule seemed somewhat far away.
Seunghyun looked at the ink on Jiyong’s fingers, so delicate, and imagined running his own fingers over them. He knew what it felt like - vaguely, briefly.
But to trace it.
With his fingertops.
His mouth.
He sipped from the burgundy wine, fourth glass that evening. The drowsiness hadn’t started to set in yet. Jiyong’s eyes, on the contrary, were slightly hazy: always sooner to go than his.
Above the collar of his shirt the outline of yet another tattoo was visible - and Seunghyun knew it by heart, though not by touch.
It must feel just like skin.
All of them must: the one on his shoulder, his underarm, his belly. Soft skin. But with added purpose, somehow.
Jiyong nodded to the bland song in the background and anything he’d say now would make him laugh, having already arrived in that stage of blissful forgetfulness.
“Can I choose your next tattoo for you?” he prompted without thinking first, and Jiyong looked at him with a relaxed smile, answering without hesitation: “No. You’d pick something stupid.”
“Because a smiley around your navel isn’t?”
Jiyong laughed at that, predictably enough, but still had enough self-restraint to feign offence: “There’s a meaning to it. There’s a meaning to all of them, as you know.” He stretched his arms above his head, and his shirt rose up a little. Seunghyun stared.
“Next time I’ll pick a good one too, hyung” he assured him, falling back in his chair and smiling at him without reservation - and of course Seunghyun believed him.
Even though it really meant another spot he’d wish to touch and another thing that would never happen.
*
5. Hospital
Seunghyun lies in the hospital with an injured hand. “The worst part is that I can’t drink any alcohol,” he’d said to Daesung when he came to visit, and Jiyong smiles a little ruefully at that because it’s quintessentially TOP but it doesn’t change the fact that he lies in the hospital with an injured hand, tired and overworked.
He thinks as much when he steps into the sterile room, everything so reeking of hospital it makes him wrinkle his nose. But Seunghyun’s there, smiling as he notices him. Jiyong walks up to his bed and hands him the ‘get-well-soon’ bear he’d bought on impulse just now in the hospital shop.
He shrugs as Seunghyun looks at him quizzically. “Isn’t this what people do?” he replies, feeling faintly embarrassed.
“It’s cute,” Seunghyun decides and Jiyong smiles. He sits down on the plastic chair next to the bed as Seunghyun places the bear on the nightstand.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Seunghyun replies and Jiyong narrows his eyes because he can detect the lie from miles away.
“Be honest,” he says (demands) and feels strangely gratified when it only takes three seconds for Seunghyun’s shoulders to slump and the smile to disappear from his face.
It’s no time for selfishness, but there’s a certain thrill in knowing that Seunghyun feels comfortable dropping all pretense around him. That it’s just them, Seunghyun and Jiyong, like it’s always been (like it always will be).
Seunghyun shifts in bed. He’s silent for a moment before saying in one go: “I’m tired of lying in bed, yet at the same time feel like I could sleep for two weeks straight. Which I won’t, because most of the time I just lie awake worrying about stuff.”
Jiyong takes his friend in, who fiddles with the bed sheets. He does look tired. Handsome (always, enviably so) but tired nonetheless.
"Sometimes I'm not sure if I can still do this. I mean, I have to, but…” Seunghyun trails off, sounding almost painfully honest.
And Jiyong wants to make it all right, suddenly. Wants to fix things.
He licks his lips and hesitates just a moment before saying, “Remember when I first saw you?”
“And you were scared?” Seunghyun supplies, causing Jiyong to grin despite himself.
“Maybe a little later. When I found out you were the opposite of scary.” Seunghyun feigns looking affronted, but before he can say something Jiyong quickly goes on, “To me, you seemed like the kind of person who’d leave an impression on people. Someone they’d remember, even though they might have seen you just once. That’s… that’s a rare thing,” Jiyong concludes, intertwining his fingers and willing himself to stay calm. “And -” he waits until Seunghyun looks at him, has his full attention, “- I still see that when I look at you. You’re still that person.”
Silence follows his words. The only sound is his heartbeat, impossibly loud all of a sudden. He wants to hide and be out of sight as awareness catches up with his mouth, feeling distinctly self-conscious, but Seunghyun looks at him and Jiyong can’t look away - his gaze heavy and almost tangible, leaving the air charged. Jiyong has trouble breathing.
Then Seunghyun smiles, shyly, genuinely; and Jiyong inhales deeply.
“They’ll be serving lunch soon,” Seunghyun says as he finally looks away. His voice sounds suspiciously raw. “You wanna stay and join?”
Jiyong nods, even though Seunghyun can’t see him. “A hospital meal sounds perfect right about now,” he agrees, and when Seunghyun turns to grin at him he returns it twofold.
*
Comments are always appreciated (and make me smile.) :)
Movie Nights -> Watching a movie really was an excuse to make out and everyone knew that.
Concert -> "Just wanted to wish you good luck."
Tattoos -> Seunghyun looked at the ink on Jiyong’s skin and imagined running his fingers over it.
Hospital -> “The worst part is that I can’t drink any alcohol,” he said and Jiyong smiles a little ruefully.
1. Valentine
‘February fourteenth’ the date on his smartphone says. Not a day with particular meaning for Seunghyun (except that it’s still cold and the summer is still too far away) - but for Jiyong, it should have.
He’s the romantic one.
He’s the one hosting surprise events with balloons and candles and the whole Hollywood movie deal.
He’s certainly not the type to sit in a studio all day with no romantic prospects and not… well, complain about it.
But he hasn’t: either of the two. A rarity, if not unique, as far as Seunghyun can recall. Because if there are romantic prospects, there’s gleeful (or boastful) comments; if there aren’t, there’s sulking.
Silence is not an option.
But Jiyong’s focus is on the computer screen - has been for hours - as various beats emit from the speakers, fingers unconsciously drumming a rhythm, whole body subtly following suit.
Seunghyun nods along to the half (quarter?) finished song, mind on the music and then on Jiyong again - focussed, sharp, tired.
Content.
When Jiyong leans back in his chair as the song comes to an end, and he loudly stretches his arms, Seunghyun finally asks.
“Are you not aware of the date?”
Jiyong quirks an eyebrow at him, as if that notion is ridiculous, and ruffles his black-and-white hair, sure sign of a studio hours overdose.
“Of course I am,” he says, then leans forward past Seunghyun to get the bottle of coke standing there.
Their hands brush.
He leans back, unscrews the cap and drinks, neck exposed down to the unbuttoned collar of his Balmain blouse (remnant of his Parisian shopping days) and suddenly - suddenly Seunghyun gets it.
“Want some too?”
Jiyong sways the bottle in front of him.
"Yeah," Seunghyun answers, gaze on Jiyong's easy smile, gaze on the happy look in his eyes -- and smiles back unwittingly.
*
2. Movie Nights
Watching a movie really was an excuse to make out, and everyone knew that.
Of course, them being just friends, that didn’t really apply. Instead, ‘cuddling’ was key word.
Because contrary to his appearance and image -‘don’t touch me or I’ll stare you down’ - Seunghyun liked to cuddle. Not until after a few beers and with a plausible excuse for the both of them (‘we’re watching a movie’) but still.
Never one to deny himself something, Jiyong naturally was happy to play the part.
Tonight the movie of choice was a Bond one. Seunghyun had probably gotten the hang of the spy genre, or might expect to pick up some handy tips.
As usual the lights were dimmed. Seunghyun was seated to his left on the big leather couch, customary suit ditched for a rather more comfortable outfit. His eyes were on the screen. He looked slightly otherworldly like this, in the pale light of the television: otherworldly and handsome.
Jiyong averted his gaze, back to the screen. There was yet another explosion. Jiyong bit his lip, wondering when(if) Seunghyun was going to make his move.
He certainly wasn’t going to do it.
“Want another beer?” he prompted instead, thinking that might do the trick.
“Yeah” Seunghyun commented, and Jiyong handed him a brown bottle, along with getting one for himself.
More fight scenes followed, and more beer for the two of them. Jiyong was starting to feel slightly drowsy, though of course Seunghyun didn’t seem affected in any way.
Blasted alcohol tolerance.
Right then, though, the couch creaked slightly as Seunghyun suddenly moved closer to him. Jiyong kept his eyes fixed on the screen, but he couldn’t help smile when Seunghyun mumbled, “Move your arm a little,” all attention for the movie already gone.
As he obliged, Seunghyun put an arm around his shoulders, body warm; comfortable; strangely familiar for simultaneously being so foreign to him. Jiyong leaned into his touch, drowsy and happy.
He wasn’t drunk enough to realise that the alcohol couldn’t solely be blamed for those feelings, yet not sober enough to care.
The fighting on the screen turned into dialogue turned into making out (of course) and maybe this should be awkward, watching that kind of stuff while pressed together with your (male) best friend.
It was, a little - but of the sort you wouldn’t want to do away with anyway, like you were standing on the edge of a building and your mind said step back but your stomach twirled in anticipation.
Seunghyun’s hand trailed down his arm, then leisurely up again, and he had to focus on his breathing.
Jumping wasn’t the best idea, perhaps.
But nothing against teetering on the edge a little more.
*
3. Concert (note: takes place before Jiyong's concert in Seoul where he wasn't feeling well and TOP was among the guests.)
Getting sick on the day of your concert: most people would call that bad luck.
Jiyong certainly did, too.
Of course he’d manage, and of course he’d (almost) forget his condition once he was on stage and greeted by a choir of cheers - but still. It was irksome not to be in perfect shape.
The clock in the waiting room indicated that there were forty minutes left before he’d walk on stage. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up his muscles and ignore the buzz around him (stylist noonas chattering loudly; dancers walking in and out; the manager asking questions.)
Deep breath, focus. It had to be perfect, he had to be perfect.
There was the creeping feeling of self-doubt that he willed to go away, because this was not a good timing (was any of it good timing?) -
“Jiyong.”
His head snapped up from his reveries to unexpectedly be greeted by Seunghyun’s face.
“Hyung!” he exclaimed, not able to hide the surprise from his voice. “What are you doing down here?”
“Just wanted to wish you good luck,” Seunghyun replied, casually, yet there was a certain look in his eyes that made his belly feel all warm. “How are you?”
“Perfect,” Jiyong replied, “apart from suffering from a cold and insomnia at once.”
The corner of Seunghyun’s mouth turned up in a slightly self-deprecating way because this was familiar: running on medicine and one hour of sleep alone. It made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“You’ll pull it off,” Seunghyun merely said.
“I know,” he replied, like he always did, yet there was a strange feeling of vulnerability creeping over him, exposed by the man standing in front of him.
He wished they were alone, if only for a minute.
“You’ll be perfect, Jiyongie,” Seunghyun said again, but this time with a finality to his tone as though he’d read Jiyong’s doubts from both his face and years of personally knowing him.
He looked up and could see the conviction written on his hyung’s face; the sincerity in his eyes, that one place he could never truly mask.
Jiyong nodded once, then twice. Somehow he didn’t quite trust his voice.
“Seems like a lifetime ago you were writing your raps in those yellow notebooks and dreaming of making it big, huh?"
Jiyong laughed suddenly, the tension broken as quickly as it had arrived. “That is a lifetime ago, hyung.”
“Yeah, well. I’m just saying, it’s a good reminder, isn’t it?”
Jiyong smiled, because he knew what Seunghyun meant; he knew what he’d wanted to say.
“Thanks,” he said with sincerity - and was sure that Seunghyun knew what he meant, too.
*
4. Tattoos
With Jiyong every tattoo had its meaning, whether absurd or literal, quirky or serious. He’d always inform him of his plans before heading to the tattoo shop, but the explanation came later, if at all.
It didn’t matter. Seunghyun liked to guess.
And lately there happened to be loads of that: more tattoos and he’d become a walking piece of art, a joke to which Jiyong snorted and filled up his glass again; rare nights in which they talked and their omnipresent schedule seemed somewhat far away.
Seunghyun looked at the ink on Jiyong’s fingers, so delicate, and imagined running his own fingers over them. He knew what it felt like - vaguely, briefly.
But to trace it.
With his fingertops.
His mouth.
He sipped from the burgundy wine, fourth glass that evening. The drowsiness hadn’t started to set in yet. Jiyong’s eyes, on the contrary, were slightly hazy: always sooner to go than his.
Above the collar of his shirt the outline of yet another tattoo was visible - and Seunghyun knew it by heart, though not by touch.
It must feel just like skin.
All of them must: the one on his shoulder, his underarm, his belly. Soft skin. But with added purpose, somehow.
Jiyong nodded to the bland song in the background and anything he’d say now would make him laugh, having already arrived in that stage of blissful forgetfulness.
“Can I choose your next tattoo for you?” he prompted without thinking first, and Jiyong looked at him with a relaxed smile, answering without hesitation: “No. You’d pick something stupid.”
“Because a smiley around your navel isn’t?”
Jiyong laughed at that, predictably enough, but still had enough self-restraint to feign offence: “There’s a meaning to it. There’s a meaning to all of them, as you know.” He stretched his arms above his head, and his shirt rose up a little. Seunghyun stared.
“Next time I’ll pick a good one too, hyung” he assured him, falling back in his chair and smiling at him without reservation - and of course Seunghyun believed him.
Even though it really meant another spot he’d wish to touch and another thing that would never happen.
*
5. Hospital
Seunghyun lies in the hospital with an injured hand. “The worst part is that I can’t drink any alcohol,” he’d said to Daesung when he came to visit, and Jiyong smiles a little ruefully at that because it’s quintessentially TOP but it doesn’t change the fact that he lies in the hospital with an injured hand, tired and overworked.
He thinks as much when he steps into the sterile room, everything so reeking of hospital it makes him wrinkle his nose. But Seunghyun’s there, smiling as he notices him. Jiyong walks up to his bed and hands him the ‘get-well-soon’ bear he’d bought on impulse just now in the hospital shop.
He shrugs as Seunghyun looks at him quizzically. “Isn’t this what people do?” he replies, feeling faintly embarrassed.
“It’s cute,” Seunghyun decides and Jiyong smiles. He sits down on the plastic chair next to the bed as Seunghyun places the bear on the nightstand.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Seunghyun replies and Jiyong narrows his eyes because he can detect the lie from miles away.
“Be honest,” he says (demands) and feels strangely gratified when it only takes three seconds for Seunghyun’s shoulders to slump and the smile to disappear from his face.
It’s no time for selfishness, but there’s a certain thrill in knowing that Seunghyun feels comfortable dropping all pretense around him. That it’s just them, Seunghyun and Jiyong, like it’s always been (like it always will be).
Seunghyun shifts in bed. He’s silent for a moment before saying in one go: “I’m tired of lying in bed, yet at the same time feel like I could sleep for two weeks straight. Which I won’t, because most of the time I just lie awake worrying about stuff.”
Jiyong takes his friend in, who fiddles with the bed sheets. He does look tired. Handsome (always, enviably so) but tired nonetheless.
"Sometimes I'm not sure if I can still do this. I mean, I have to, but…” Seunghyun trails off, sounding almost painfully honest.
And Jiyong wants to make it all right, suddenly. Wants to fix things.
He licks his lips and hesitates just a moment before saying, “Remember when I first saw you?”
“And you were scared?” Seunghyun supplies, causing Jiyong to grin despite himself.
“Maybe a little later. When I found out you were the opposite of scary.” Seunghyun feigns looking affronted, but before he can say something Jiyong quickly goes on, “To me, you seemed like the kind of person who’d leave an impression on people. Someone they’d remember, even though they might have seen you just once. That’s… that’s a rare thing,” Jiyong concludes, intertwining his fingers and willing himself to stay calm. “And -” he waits until Seunghyun looks at him, has his full attention, “- I still see that when I look at you. You’re still that person.”
Silence follows his words. The only sound is his heartbeat, impossibly loud all of a sudden. He wants to hide and be out of sight as awareness catches up with his mouth, feeling distinctly self-conscious, but Seunghyun looks at him and Jiyong can’t look away - his gaze heavy and almost tangible, leaving the air charged. Jiyong has trouble breathing.
Then Seunghyun smiles, shyly, genuinely; and Jiyong inhales deeply.
“They’ll be serving lunch soon,” Seunghyun says as he finally looks away. His voice sounds suspiciously raw. “You wanna stay and join?”
Jiyong nods, even though Seunghyun can’t see him. “A hospital meal sounds perfect right about now,” he agrees, and when Seunghyun turns to grin at him he returns it twofold.
*
Comments are always appreciated (and make me smile.) :)