4: Cowardly Beings (1/2)

[swshawnee]

Title: Cowardly Beings
Pairing: Rabin
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst, romance, high school AU, hurt/comfort, songfic: Nell - Meaningless
Summary: Hongbin tries to run, but only ends up in the arms of what he fears the most.
Wordcount: 14,916



The heart is like this
If you open it with such great difficulty
It will close again

But don't you worry
Humans are braver than you think
They forget everything as if nothing ever happened
Really too remarkably
Or too foolishly
”It must be for real this time”
”I love you”

In the end, we're all weak beings
who must struggle endlessly not to be lonely
In the end, we're all cowardly beings
who must decieve each other endlessly to not be left alone

The first time they meet, Hongbin is lying on his back on the school roof. There's a cigarette between his lips and fingers, sending small cascades of smoke through the air, in the direction of his gaze; towards the slowly drifting clouds and the sky, blue with spring. He inhales puff after puff of smoke, knowing it'll make him nauseous, but he doesn't care. He doesn't mind.

He hasn't been up there for very long, so he's still a little bit on edge and jumps in surprise when the door is heftily pushed open. A boy shuffles through it, but remains by the entrance without closing the door, and Hongbin stares at him, the initial fear transforming into annoyance.

”Hey,” says the boy. His blond hair is bushy and spiky, perhaps worn from too many dye jobs, but he has a good sense of fashion, Hongbin notes; laid back, but he probably turns many heads as he walks through the corridors. He doesn't recognize him much. ”You're Hongbin, right?”

Hongbin frowns. ”Yes. Are you staying or leaving?” The other boy blinks, apparently unsure of the answer. Hongbin sighs. ”Well, regardless, sit down or someone will see you.”

”Oh,” the boy yelps, crouching down immediately and letting the door close behind him. ”Sorry.”

Shrugging non-committedly, Hongbin closes his eyes, face towards the sky, soaking up the sun. ”Did you want something?”

”Uh,” the other grunts, crawling along the roof to get closer to him. ”Just to say hi. I saw you on your way up here, and I've been wanting to say hi for a while, so... Hi.”

Hongbin scrunches up his nose. The guy is straight-forward in an awkward but relieving sort of way, and it makes Hongbin want to believe that this isn't just a big joke. It's not the first time his schoolmates have pulled something like this. Remember the time they sent Gongchan to him to pretend to be his friend just to make fun of him later? Hongbin sure does. And he's not about to fall for it again.

When he doesn't reply, the boy sits down next to him. ”I'm Wonshik. Uh... Kim Wonshik.”

”Wonshik,” Hongbin repeats. The name feels unfamiliar on his tongue. ”Are you new here?”

”Oh, yeah. I mean, kinda. I've been here for about a month, but... People here are a little different than what I'm used to. It's hard to fit in.”

Hongbin snorts. ”Tell me about it.” He sits up, removing the cigarette from between his lips and putting it out against the tile next to him. ”Well, you should know that sitting here talking to me is pretty much social suicide. So off you go.” He shoos him with his hands, waving towards the door.

To his surprise, Wonshik simply chuckles and leans back. ”I've noticed people don't like you much around here. I figured it must mean you're different from them, right?” Hongbin lets out a scoff that he can't stop. ”Which is why I've been wanting to talk to you.”

Hongbin scratches at his neck. He's not used to using his voice much in school, and this guy is making it harder for him to feign disinterest. ”Alright, look,” he says with a sigh. ”If people see you with me, they'll make you into a freak, too.”

”Oh, please,” Wonshik laughs. ”I don't care. I don't care if shallow people dislike me.”

Hongbin clenches his jaw to hold back the flood of replies that come welling up. Sure, it's easy to say you don't care when you're still human, before you get called a freak so many times you step into the word, the letters surrounding you everywhere you turn, when it starts sounding more like you than your name. But Wonshik wouldn't know anything about that, now, would he?

”I've seen you carrying a guitar case around,” Wonshik says, staring out over the schoolyard, squinting in the sun. ”How long have you been playing?”

Well, this is infuriating. He's used to not speaking to anybody since no one wants to know what he has to say, and now that this guy is here, Wonshik, he's asking him questions yet not taking him seriously. Who does he think he is, even?

”There are plenty of 'normal' kids in this school,” Hongbin hisses, wanting to turn over on his side, away from Wonshik, as if they're a married couple arguing in bed. ”You'll find them, but not by talking to me.”

”Or, since we're both outcasts, I could stay with the only person in this school that actually interests me,” Wonshik replies, grinning at him. And it annoys Hongbin even further, but fine - if he wants to ruin his life, that's really up to him. What does Hongbin care? ”Tell me about your guitar playing.”

”Uhm...” Hongbin tries. ”I've been playing for... seven years? Six? Maybe.”

”Shit. I'm impressed.”

Hongbin laughs. ”Don't be impressed until you've heard me play.”

Wonshik sits up, grinning down at Hongbin. ”Is that an offer?”

Hongbin winces. ”Hell, no.”

Wonshik laughs, doesn't seem to take him seriously, but Hongbin is too tired to care. ”I write... sometimes. Lyrics. And I make up melodies, but I can't play an instrument, so I can't play the songs.” Hongbin listens, but it's strange, because he isn't used to people telling him things about themselves, and he isn't sure how to reply. ”Do you write?”

Hongbin nods. ”It happens.”

Wonshik pulls out his cellphone from his pocket. ”I really want to hear it,” he says, and Hongbin thinks to himself that the chances are low. They aren't going to speak again after today. ”Lunch break is almost over, we should get going.”

Hongbin laughs at that, pulling out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. ”No way.”

Standing up, Wonshik stares at him questioningly. ”No?”

Hongbin shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls out a new cigarette and places it between his lips. ”No. I have P.E. now. No way.”

”Ah, shit.” Wonshik nods in understanding. ”Well, I can't miss geography, so I have to go.” Hongbin doesn't reply, but feels relieved when the other starts moving towards the door. Who cares about education? That's not what school is about anymore, anyway. It's about survival. ”See you later, yeah?”

Hongbin looks in the opposite direction. ”Sure,” he mutters, not bothing to hide how little he means it. Wonshik doesn't seem to pick up on it though - or maybe he does, and it just doesn't bother him. Maybe their conversation disappointed him, maybe he was expecting something completely different - an actual person. Wonshik leaves without another word, and Hongbin feels the anxiety well up, cold and hard, fencing him off like a wall. He lights his cigarette, breathes in and breathes out until he feels nauseous again, lies there until he grows cold in the spring sun, until class ends and the next one starts. He lies there until the school day ends, never taking his eyes off the sky.

He'd give anything for a friend.

But he'd also give anything not to be watched anymore, because being watched is the same as being judged. It's human nature. It can't be helped. So even if Wonshik's offer is exactly what he needs, he'd also rather not. And this contradiction, this antagonism, is what has Hongbin thinking he really isn't well off being alive.

He doesn't see Wonshik a lot after that. They don't have class together, and Hongbin always hides during their breaks, behind school, in the music rooms, wherever he can find. He's given up on the roof, because Wonshik might show up, and he can't have that.

It's almost a full week later until Wonshik finds him again, in one of the practice rooms in the music building. Hongbin almost curses out loud when he enters; he's in the midst of practicing a new song he's written, and it definitely isn't about Wonshik. No, absolutely not. It may be about the things Hongbin has been thinking of since they first met, but that doesn't mean it's about Wonshik. No, sir.

”Hey!” Wonshik says when he open the door, removing the sunglasses from his slightly tanned face as he enters. ”There you are. I was starting to think you were a hallucination all along.”

”Hey,” Hongbin breathes in reply, willing himself not to laugh. Maybe Wonshik will leave if he's boring enough. ”Yeah, that's me. Ghost of the practice rooms.”

Wonshik narrows his eyes at him. ”Okay, getting freaky. What are you up to?” He balances through the mess of cables on the floor and sits down on an amplifier, eyes tracing Hongbin's jaw-long hair and how it falls over his face when he looks down at the strings of his guitar.

”Just practicing. Passing the time.”

”What are you playing?”

”Uh... Just... this new song.”

Wonshik's eyes widen in curiosity. ”One that you wrote?” Hongbin nods, strumming on his guitar a little. ”Can I hear it?”

”No,” Hongbin hurries, and Wonshik's excitement starts ebbing out. ”Not... that one,” Hongbin adds, feeling strangely guilty and hating it with his entire being. He doesn't owe anyone anything. ”It's not finished... so... It still needs some sorting out.”

”Okay,” Wonshik says, accepting his reponse and falling silent. He looks around the room, from the and bass guitars hung on the wall, the mic stands in the corner to the piano against the wall. He seems interested, and Hongbin recognizes something in him that he used to be able to find within himself, this curiosity and will to explore, put his hands on the instruments and strum the thickest string of the bass guitars, clutch the drumsticks in his hands and try out the first rhythm that pulses through his veins, but... Nowadays the guitar is simply something Hongbin needs to hold in his hands once a day to get by. The truth is, he doesn't have anything else. It's a need, an addiction, and it has thrown his curiosity out the window.

”Do you sing, too? When you play?” Wonshik asks, getting up and walking around the room slowly to get a better look at the equipment.

”Mm,” Hongbin replies quietly. ”I mean, no one else will sing with me, so I kind of have to.”

”Hm.” Wonshik is standing over by the wall, inspecting the electric guitars with his back turned towards him. He looks at him over his shoulder. ”I'd sing with you, but my voice sucks. Sorry.”

Hongbin makes an incoherent noise in the back of his throat, not sure what else to say. A new feeling works its way up his insides, and he feels dumb, so unbelievably weak for even allowing these thoughts into his mind, but: ”I could... play you something else, if you want,” he says, widening his eyes at his own stupidity. What the fuck is this about? Why does he feel the need to please this random guy? Why would he want to do that?

Wonshik turns to him with a bright, disbelieving smile. ”Really?” he says, and Hongbin swallows with a nod. ”For real?” Hongbin nods again, now smiling awkwardly, and his hands are starting to sweat with nervousness.

”Just don't expect too much,” he says, but Wonshik is running through the room already, tripping a little as his foot gets stuck in a cable but continuing without embarrassment over to the little stool behind the drumset, dragging it over to sit slightly closer to Hongbin, but not close enough to cause discomfort, thankfully. He sits down quietly, staring at Hongbin with so much anticipation that it reminds him of a dog, excitedly wagging his tail and waiting for his owner to throw the ball again. After a few silent moments, though, he seems to realize that Hongbin is uncomfortable under his intense gaze, and he looks down, playing with his fingers, seemingly trying not to look so happy.

It feels better that way, and Hongbin takes a deep breath to brace himself before he starts. It's been so many years since he last played when someone else could hear him - well, except for his music teacher, of course - and he's not sure how he'd take to criticism anymore.

But when he sings, Wonshik closes his eyes, and it's a relief, because then Hongbin can stare at him, observe every twitch of the corners of the other's mouth every time he hears something he likes, every slight nod of his head to follow the slow rhythm of the song.

When the song ends, Hongbin is sure he's red in the face, and he hates it, because that too is weak, and since when did he care so fucking much, anyway? He fans himself furiously until Wonshik opens his eyes, giving him a soft round of applause. ”Shit, that was great,” he says, eyes twinkling with admiration. ”But it wasn't one of your own, was it?”

”No,” Hongbin says shakily. ”It's called Falling Slowly.”

Wonshik nods. ”I think I've heard it before. Your version is better, though. You're amazing, really.”

Hongbin splutters in reply. He can't give praise as freely as Wonshik apparently can, and he definitely doesn't know how to accept it.

Wonshik watches him through his embarrassment, and eventually sighs. ”Why did you start playing to begin with?”

”Uh,” Hongbin says. ”I used always drum with my hands on the table at home, and my parents grew sick of it and made me choose an instrument to learn. I guess they wanted to replace the noise with... better noise.”

Wonshik hums, eyes now locked on the pick in Hongbin's hand. ”I wish my parents would have done the same. Man, I really wish I could play.”

Hongbin shrugs. ”It's never too late to learn.” He looks down, and it takes him a while to realize that Wonshik is staring at him, somewhere between expectant and hopeful, and Hongbin realizes with a start what he's thinking. ”I- I can't give you lessons,” he stutters. ”But I can teach you how to play a song or two if you want. That should teach you the basics.” He stops himself, wishing he could take back what he just said, because now Wonshik's face is lightening up again, nodding feverently.

”You'd do that?” he exclaims, standing up off his stool. ”Shit, Hongbin, that would be so cool of you!”

A mental image shows Hongbin himself in a pit of quicksand, desperately trying to escape, but sinking further and further and faster and faster. ”Uh, yeah, no problem,” he says, mentally chastising himself. And soon enough, Hongbin's guitar is in Wonshik's hands, and Hongbin is crouching in front of him. Wonshik gives him the title of the song he wants to play, one that Hongbin himself would never listen to, but that's been overplayed on the radio to the point where it's been imprinted in Hongbin's mind. He sighs when he places Wonshik's fingers over the strings to show him the first chord.

”This is a G,” he says, pressing the other's fingers down on the strings. Wonshik makes a face, and Hongbin remembers how much his fingers hurt during the first few weeks of learning how to play, but Wonshik says nothing, struggling on. ”Try it now.” Wonshik strums once, and the sound is unstable in places, but good for someone's first time. ”Good,” he says, moving on to the next chord, and the next, and the next. It takes him a good twenty minutes until he realizes that Wonshik is the first person he has touched for... How long? Months, maybe. He doesn't touch people - he has no one to touch. He doesn't even hug his parents, unless it's someone's birthday. With that realization, he looks up at Wonshik as the other struggles to transition smoothly between two particularly complicated chords, and he wonders why he doesn't feel as put off by their proximity as he would have thought. He hates people. Detests them. And when he looks, he realizes he finds Wonshik quite beautiful. He hangs onto that thought for a while, horrified screaming resonating through his mind, until he realizes that the other's beauty doesn't matter. Hongbin doesn't care about beautiful or pretty anymore. No, what's getting to him is that Wonshik is hot. And he definitely still cares about that.

They play the song together slowly. The transitions are still awkward and some notes come out somewhere completely different on the scale than they're supposed to, but it's decent for Wonshik's first song. Hongbin sings the lyrics, and after a while Wonshik joins in. His voice isn't as terrible as he said, and Hongbin considers telling him so, but he can't make himself say it.

”Hey,” Wonshik says once they've made it through the whole song for the first time. ”Can I ask you something?”

Hongbin's tired legs give way beneath him, and he backs away, sitting down on the floor by his chair. ”I guess.”

”Why does everyone here hate you so much?”

Hongbin frowns, considers for a second if he's supposed to be offended. But, he concludes, they both know it's true - everyone does hate him. Wonshik is just nice enough to skip the sugarcoating. So then for the really difficult part: Answering his question. He shrugs, his hand finding one of the cables on the floor to play with. ”No reason. They need someone to hate, and they don't like the way I look, the way I dress.” He shrugs again. ”Easy target.”

Wonshik releases the guitar from his arms, placing it on the floor beside him, holding onto its neck. ”Has it always been this way?”

”Since the first day.”

Wonshik frowns. ”Because you were quiet?”

”I guess,” Hongbin says, taking the guitar from Wonshik's grip. ”I don't really care why. What's done is done.” He curls his legs and places the guitar on his lap, absent-mindedly playing a few notes. Wonshik is looking at him with sympathy, and it makes Hongbin uncomfortable again, because it's too easy. He's struggled for three years to make people accept him, anyone, with no luck, and now Wonshik waltzes in here, accepting him just as he is? Even approaching him willingly? It doesn't seem real.

Wonshik's voice breaks him out of his axious thoughts. ”You know about the party next weekend, right? The 93-liners' thing.”

Hongbin scoffs. ”I've heard people talking, but I'm not necessarily invited.”

”Oh, you don't need an invite,” Wonshik says, shaking his head. ”It's for all the juniors at this school.” Hongbin raises an eyebrow at him. ”We should go. The two of us. Maybe we can show them that we're normal, just like them, that we like to have a good time and to drink- I mean, you do drink, right?”

Ah, there it is. This is part of the plan, Hongbin assumes; let Wonshik get close to him and invite him to the party where they can all humiliate him. How easily he fell for it. It's kind of pathetic. ”Yeah, I guess so,” he says, even though he doesn't drink often. ”But I don't know, it just seems like asking for trouble.”

”Come on,” Wonshik says, moving his chair a little closer. ”The only reason why those people hate you is because they don't know you. If you show them that you're normal, things could be so much easier for you.”

Hongbin gives him reluctant look. This would all make sense, if it wasn't for the fact that Hongbin isn't necessarily normal. He's a freak, how can Wonshik have missed that? ”I don't know...”

”Please?” Wonshik insists. ”At least think about it?”

”Your other friends won't want to hang out with you if I'm there.”

Wonshik frowns at him. ”I don't know which parallel universe you live in, but I don't have any other friends here. I won't go unless you go.”

”Fine,” Hongbin agrees eventually, chewing anxiously on the inside of his lips. ”I'll think about it.” He knows how that discussion with himself is going to go: No - but Wonshik doesn't need to know that.

Wonshik flashes him a bright smile. ”Can I see your phone?”

Hongbin pulls his cellphone out of his pocket, staring at the other suspiciously as he does so. Wonshik takes it from him, and Hongbin wants to snatch it back out of his hands. It's not like him to trust anyone with these kinds of things so easily, but it's like now that he's started, he can't stop. He assumes he'll have to beat himself up over all of this when Wonshik goes and pulls a Carrie on him, maybe at the upcoming party, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

”There,” Wonshik says, handing him his phone back. ”I sent myself a text from your phone, so now we have each other's numbers.”

”Oh,” Hongbin says, taking his cellphone and opening his messages just to check.

”So now you can't run from me anymore.” Hongbin looks up at him nervously, wondering if there's a warning hidden in his words, but the other just laughs.

”I need a smoke,” Hongbin chokes. ”And then I should be getting home.”

”Alright,” Wonshik nods, standing up and holding his hand out to help Hongbin up. ”I'll walk you.”

Hongbin stares at his hand.

The thing about Wonshik is that his eyes seem very sincere. They don't know each other well, but Wonshik seems like he acts on every emotional impulse he gets, and isn't ashamed of it. Of course, he could just be a very good actor, but he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, and Hongbin supposes that's why he's so compelled to trust him.

Well, that, and the fact that he really is hot. Hongbin is a teenage boy, after all.

Wonshik hugs him when he walks him home that day. Hongbin feels bad about showing him his house, because it could just make the bullying more effective, but when Wonshik leans in and hugs him goodbye and his cologne fills his nostrils, he forgets about everything else.

Countless of text messages later, Hongbin finds himself at the party he so desperately tried to avoid. He's tense, prepared to run or fight, should any of it be needed, and to be honest, the thought fills him with adrenaline. He's done with running away now, thanks to Wonshik, and he almost wants them to try something, just so he can put them in their place and show them what he's made of. Everyone who sees them looks downright shocked to see them there, shocked that Hongbin the Freak made it out of his cave for once and that he has an actual person beside him, one who doesn't look like a victim of kidnapping at all. Hongbin faces them all with strength, daring them to do something, try it, but as soon as they enter the house, Hongbin wants to leave.

He doesn't know whose house they're in, and neither does Wonshik, but they don't care. There's free beer, and that's all that really matters when they sink down on the kitchen couch, music blaring from a stereo at the kitchen counter and mixing in with another equally loud one from the living room. The house is crowded, by voices and laughter as much as by people, and Hongbin wants to smoke, even though he put his last cigarette out just moments before they walked in the door. The kitchen is probably the least crowded room of the house, and just as he expected, when he and Wonshik sits down, the other people in the room ignore their presence completely.

It's already late, and the group of people on the floor in front of them are debating on whether they should play a game of spin the bottle or drunken twister, and the whole thing is so alien to Hongbin that he can't do anything other than lift his bottle of beer to his lips and chug, wishing he could be drunk already.

”Shit,” Wonshik says, mirroring his actions. ”No way I can keep up with you.” Hongbin laughs stiffly. Wonshik looks good tonight, in torn grey jeans and a striped sweater. ”Do you always drink like an alcoholic?”

”Only if I have to.”

Wonshik hums. The people on the floor are forming into a circle, and there's an empty bottle between them now, ready to be spun. It's cliché, even Hongbin who hasn't ever been to a party before in his life knows that much, and he'd give anything to be like them, to find pleasure in clichés like that, to do things without being constantly questioned or judged. ”You really don't like being around people, do you?” Wonshik says, nudging Hongbin's leg to get his attention.

”I really don't,” Hongbin comfirms. His social anxieties are hardly secret.

”Am I hard to be around, too?” Wonshik places his elbow on top of the wooden backrest and leans his face in his hand, the other still clutching his bottle.

Hongbin stares at the skin visible over the hem of his sweater. The alcohol is starting to kick in, even if it's only a little bit, and he feels himself relax a little. He shakes his head, even though the opposite is true. He thinks. He isn't really sure anymore.

”Then what are you scared of?”

Hongbin sighs, searching for an answer. ”They're people.”

Said people break out in loud cheers when the bottle has picked its first couple of victims: Two girls, who give each other a quick peck on the cheek.

”So am I,” Wonshik says, leaning closer to make himself heard over the noise. ”What can they do to you that I can't?”

Hongbin thinks maybe this is his cue to be scared, but he raises the bottle to his lips once more. It's already almost empty. ”It's not about what they can do to me. They've done so much, they can hardly surprise me anymore. It's just... I know that they hate me. And you don't seem to, so.”

Wonshik shakes his head. ”I don't.”

They watch the game of spin the bottle in silence for a while, and Hongbin hurriedly empties his beer when Wonshik has only made it halfway through his. When Hongbin gets up to get more, Wonshik gets up instead, to his surprise, and downs the remains in his bottle before scurrying off to find two more. When he returns, he seems a little more unstable than before, and Hongbin's stomach churns.

”So what do you see when you look at these people?” he asks, gesturing widely around the room.

Hongbin simply frowns. ”Why are you asking me this?”

”I'm just interested,” Wonshik says, leaning closer yet again to keep their conversation from being heard. ”I like people. Not these, maybe, but normally.” They laugh, and it's the first time in forever that Hongbin has laughed unrestrainedly. He falls quiet, surprised at himself. ”So I'm just interested. What do you see when you look at them?”

”What do you see?” Hongbin asks back, not ready to give away that much of himself just yet.

Wonshik looks around the room, eyes landing on the circle of people, where a boy and a girl are currently engaged in a passionate liplock. He frowns a little bit. ”I see 50% people who will one day, sooner or later, look back at this time and beat themselves up for being so goddamn stupid.” Hongbin stares at him, wide-eyed. ”Then I see 30% people who will never change and will remain total asshats for the rest of their lives.”

”And the last 20%?”

Wonshik grins. His eyes are a little glazed. ”They are people who will look back at all this and wonder why they never did anything for that one guy who they never really minded, but that others had decided that everyone should hate.”

Hongbin shakes his head. ”And which one of those are you? And me?”

”Oh, me?” Wonshik stretches his arms out over the backrest. ”I'm part of that measly zero point something percent that was just here to enjoy looking at all the pretty people.”

Hongbin frowns. ”People? Are you gay?”

”Pansexual,” Wonshik corrects him, raising his bottle.

”Oh,” Hongbin says, the room suddenly very hot. He gestures towards himself with one hand, raising his bottle with the other. ”Bi.”

”Cheers,” Wonshik says, clinking their bottles together and taking a sip, and Hongbin is horrified with himself, because that's perfect ammo for the bullies, who never step down from an opportunity to make fun of him. Even so, he drinks in big gulps. ”As for you,” Wonshik continues moments later, ”you're part of the zero point something percent that was always miles ahead of everyone else, and will silently do well for himself, better than most people.”

Hongbin smiles, but he doesn't mean it. Because Wonshik is wrong, maybe doesn't even believe in what he's saying himself, and Hongbin can't even try to accept his compliment. In reality, Hongbin is part of that small group of people who will one day disappear, and the people around him will all mourn him, say he was such an intelligent young man or a gifted boy, until they run out of shallow things to say and realize that nothing has changed since he went away. That's who Hongbin is, and how he will live his life, however long he has left.

”Now, tell me what you see,” Wonshik orders, and Hongbin sees his own drunkenness mirrored in Wonshik's unfocused eyes.

”I see...” Hongbin tries, looks around at all those nameless, strangely faceless people in the room, all happily ignoring his presence. None of them see him looking at them. ”I see the people who made me worthless,” he says eventually. ”I see the ones who made me into a freak, a monster, an ugly, useless piece of shit who will never have a chance to succeed, simply because they told me so.”

Wonshik stares at him, inching closer on the couch to place a hand on Hongbin's leg, curled beneath him. ”What do you mean?”

Hongbin exhales heavily. He doesn't want to go down this road, not really. ”I was fine until I started going to this school, you know? Even if I didn't have friends, at least I wasn't a freak. I never felt like a freak until they started telling me I was. And, you know, what I feel inside is the only truth I can believe in.” He gives the other a quick look, embarrassed beyond what he can express, but feelings he hasn't dared look twice at come welling up now that he has opened the door. ”I hate people. I hate them so much, because they're almost all like this, you know?” he nods towards the group of people on the floor. ”There's no such thing as a fully healthy relationship.”

”What makes you say that?” Wonshik asks.

”Everywhere I look, all I see are people like these. Two-faced, judgmental people who love putting each other down, and people like my parents. People who claim to love each other but resent each other secretly until neither of them can bother to pretend anymore.”

Wonshik shifts where he sits. ”It isn't always like that. My parents, for example, are happy together. They're both happy.”

”Yeah?” Hongbin asks. ”That didn't stop them from having a fucking miserable child, though.”

Wonshik shrugs. ”Things like happiness and love are states of mind, not permanent personality traits. That's why, if you wait long enough, you will realize this feeling isn't constant.”

Hongbin shakes his head, raising his bottle once more. ”They've changed the way I see myself forever. What I expect from other people. Hell, even tonight, I was so sure you were bringing me here to prank me,” he admits, and Wonshik looks surprised, even a little hurt. ”I can't change any of these things. I feel like I am a freak, not just freaky, but an actual freak.”

”But you said you were fine before you started going to this school,” Wonshik says thoughtfully. ”Until these people came along to convince that you're something you're not. So who's to say someone else couldn't change your mind again?” The hand on Hongbin's leg suddenly holds him harder, and Hongbin feels heavier, the alcohol now definitely pumping through his system. He looks at Wonshik, who's staring back at him seriously, eyes dropping for short moments at a time to look at his lips.

Hongbin isn't stupid. He might not ever have been hit on before, but he knows what this is. And, his drunken mind tells him, maybe having Wonshik around wouldn't be so terrible. Maybe he's right. Maybe there's a way to feel better, to stop the anxiety from racing through his mind every minute of the day.

Or maybe, Wonshik's thumb is stroking carefully over the material of his jeans, and Hongbin is a horny teenager and an even hornier drunk, and the other's lips look very welcoming. Maybe.

”Do you want to get out of here?” he offers, because who are they kidding - the only reason they are here is for the beer. Wonshik nods, and they hop up off the couch, rounding the circle of people on the floor, all of them sending them annoyed glares for existing in their presence. They move out towards the hallway, grabbing another couple of beers as they do so, and that's when Hongbin hears the voice of the boy closest to the doorway.

”I can't believe the freak finally found himself a friend.”

”I know, right?” says the girl closest to him. ”That new guy. Isn't he ugly?”

Another girl agrees and makes vomiting sounds, and Hongbin feels himself flare up, because this is exactly what he thought would happen. Wonshik is beautiful, and he would have been allowed to stay beautiful if he hadn't insisted on spending time around Hongbin - he even warned him, but did he listen? No. And now Wonshik will have to hear comments like this every day, and no matter how much he believes in himself he will have to watch that trust and that faith crumble a little more every day until he can't find a single reason to like himself anymore.

Hongbin empties his old bottle of the last of its contents, then he turns around and chucks it towards the group of people he's been watching all night. He wants nothing more than for them to accept him usually, but he is so tired of letting them get away with this. The bottle hits one of the boys in the back, and the turns around, furious, so Hongbin grabs Wonshik by the arms and runs. Even in his drunken state, he understands that picking fights with people who are equally drunk and also hate him is not the brightest of ideas. They run out the front door, stumbling onto the porch, and Hongbin feels the adrenaline again, like he wants to go back in there and punch the boy just for having the nerve to look offended, but no one follows them. Wonshik seems dazed, and Hongbin can't be sure if he even heard the comment. If he didn't, Hongbin doesn't want to ask.

It's dark out, completely pitch black. The house they're at has a small yard, a lawn and a rickety outhouse over by the road, all of it lined with tall bushes. The road from the house is winding, with fields on both sides, showing the late-night fog over the damp grass.

”Goddamnit,” Hongbin says as he walks down the steps from the porch.

”What?”

”We should have opened these before we left,” Hongbin replies, holding up his beer to Wonshik, who follows behind him.

Wonshik chuckles. ”No worries.” He takes the beer from Hongbin's hand, presses it against the railing of the porch and pushes down until the cap comes off. Hongbin takes the bottle when Wonshik hands it back to him, and watches in awe as he does the same to his own. ”Let's go,” Wonshik says with a smile, taking a sip and walking over the gravel towards the road. ”Can't have us ugly people roaming about at night. I have to get home.”

”Wait,” Hongbin says, snapping. Wonshik stops, and when he turns to him, Hongbin grabs his arm again, pulling him over the lawn instead.

It's a cloudless night. Millions of stars twinkle down at them from the black sky, and Hongbin wants to take a moment to just look, but he can't, not right now. He leads Wonshik back behind the outhouse, leaning his opened bottle against it, before pushing the other boy against the wall. His hands rest on Wonshik's shoulders, and Wonshik himself stares back at him through wide eyes, but doesn't seem put off by what's happening. Traces of a smirk even tug at the corners of his mouth.

”So you heard what they said?” Hongbin asks carefully. He's crazy for even considering doing anything like this, but considering how he's done with people in the past, this may be his only chance.

”I did,” Wonshik replies, giving a tilted smile. ”Why?”

Hongbin takes a deep breath, bracing himself. ”I just wanted you to know there's someone who thinks you're hot.” And with that, he starts pressing hurried kisses to Wonshik's jaw, moving to nip at his earlobe and kiss his neck, and Wonshik's body tenses, his hands finding Hongbin's hips to pull him closer. His fingers tangle with his belt loops, and he tugs at them, trying to pull Hongbin back up to kiss him for real, but Hongbin can't bring himself to do it. It's too intimate, too soon, more intimate to him than anything else they could possibly do, and he's enjoying the sound of Wonshik's ragged breaths too much to silence him. Instead he lets his hand slide down over Wonshik's stomach, up under his shirt to fumble over his abs, and the feeling causes him to rest his forehead against Wonshik's neck to catch his breath. Wonshik is hot on a normal day, yes, but Hongbin can't even wrap his mind around what it would be like to see him naked.

Fuelled by alcoholic courage, he slides his hand down to palm the other through his pants, and Wonshik lets out a strangled groan. ”Here?” he asks when Hongbin's fingers caress him through the material. ”Shouldn't we...” Hongbin glares up at him for a moment before sinking to his knees, and Wonshik falls silent at once, one hand hanging numbly by his side, the other still holding his bottle. Hongbin leans forward, pressing kisses to the sides of Wonshik's zipper, drawing more shaky breaths from the other. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, eyes locked with Wonshik's the entire time, and the alcohol is enough to make him believe that this is a good idea, even if he's never been in a remotely sexual situation before in his life (barred nightly moments alone in his bed, of course). Wonshik's pants are tight, as in really fucking tight, and Hongbin has to put some effort into tugging them down, but once they come loose he eases them down the other's thighs, wrapping one hand around the other's semi-erected cock, stroking him to full hardness.

”Shit, shit, shit,” Wonshik curses, his free hand tentatively finding the side of Hongbin's head, pushing through his hair. Hongbin loves it, loves the reaction he draws out, and when he takes Wonshik into his mouth, he dimly registers the sound of Wonshik's bottle falling onto the grass beside them before his other hand comes up to pull carefully at his hair. He takes him in as deeply as he can, little by little past his stretched lips, looking up every now and again to see the way Wonshik's chest rises and falls, the way his face contorts in pleasure, eyes opening every now and again to make sure they're still alone, and Hongbin is vaguely aware of the stars still twinkling above them.

It doesn't take long before Wonshik starts getting louder, and Hongbin slaps his hip, noticing the goosebumps that has already risen there - due to the cold night air or to Hongbin's tongue around his shaft, Hongbin doesn't know - and the moans turn into loud exhales of air and whines, whines that grow higher and higher until Wonshik's hands are pulling at Hongbin's hair, telling him to stop because Wonshik is about to come, but Hongbin doesn't pull away. Wonshik's whole body shakes when his orgasm hits, and for a second Hongbin wonders if he's going to be able to keep his weight up, but then he feels the other's come down his throat and he does his best to swallow, wincing at the salty taste.

He stands Wonshik's forgotten bottle back up when he pulls away, suddenly embarrassed, but Wonshik pulls at his arms, forcing him to stand up. Then he kisses him on the lips, and Hongbin lets him, even if it's only for a few seconds, before he pulls away, picks up their bottles of beer again and hands one over to Wonshik. He washes down the aftertaste of Wonshik's arousal with the beer, strangely proud of what he's just done.

Wonshik pulls him close. ”Your place?” he asks quietly, pressing a firm kiss to Hongbin's jaw. Hongbin nods, suppressing a moan, and when Wonshik has pulled his pants back up, they run over the lawn together, holding hands even though somebody could easily spot them.

Hongbin wakes up around 10:30 the next morning in his own bed, dressed in a white tank top only. It takes him less than a second to remember the night before, and he flips over on his side fast as lightning to find Wonshik lying beside him, sharing his duvet, already awake. Hongbin winces, the memory alcohol he consumed the night before making itself known, and he sighs deeply.

Fuck.

”Morning,” Wonshik says. He's probably been awake for a while, judging by the attentive look in his eyes. His hair is messy, Honbin almost blushes at the memories seeping back into his brain. It's awful, dirty, so unlike him - although, of course, Hongbin has never slept with anybody before, so he doesn't know that, really.

”Morning,” he manages in reply, and Wonshik is looking at him so affectionately, not a trace of regret on his face, that Hongbin feels uncomfortable, inching away and pulling the duvet further up his chest.

”Don't freak out,” Wonshik laughs. ”How much do you remember?”

The slight hangover makes his eyes feel tilted, and he's nauseous, but not devastatingly so. ”Everything,” he breathes.

”Oh, good. I was worried you'd think I had taken advantage or something.” Wonshik leans on his elbow, becoming visibly more tense as he notices Hongbin's displeasure. ”How are you feeling?”

Hongbin shakes his head. ”I just- I think this was a mistake.” He gets up on his knees, wants to run but is too aware of his lack of underwear. He looks around the room and sees their clothes strewn about, and he actually does blush when he sees his shirt draped over his guitar, and he remembers how he said he put it there to thank it for kind-of-sort-of bringing him and Wonshik together.

”Hongbin,” Wonshik says then, holding up a hand to calm him. ”Take it easy.”

How could he have let this happen? Love, intimacy and even friendship, none of these are for Hongbin, because he knows better, he knows what happens if you put yourself on the line like that. Wonshik's eyes are worried, as if he already cares too much for Hongbin, as if he has hopes for a relationship with him, and Hongbin feels like he can't breathe.

”A mistake?” Wonshik repeats in a small voice. Hongbin stares at him, horrified, because this has already gone too far.

”I mean,” he tries, pulling the duvet tighter around his waist so that it eases off Wonshik's shoulder, revealing his naked upper body. Hongbin stares. ”God, I'm too messed up for this.”

”It's not a marriage,” Wonshik says, seemingly not bothered at all by how exposed he is. ”I had a good time last night. Didn't you?”

Hongbin buries his face in his hands, his body too dizzy and his mind too hazy to keep his eyes open anymore. ”Yes, but-” and he can't even being to explain this feeling that's launching at him from the depths of his heart, that even if he allows Wonshik a chance to be with him, Hongbin will always be the one to end up alone. Love can only end with hurting someone or getting hurt - there are no other options. And fuck, he doesn't want to put himself through that.

”So let's not label it,” Wonshik says, his hand finding Hongbin's knee under the duvet. ”Let's not regret what happened. I won't force you into something you can't deal with, Hongbin, but I don't want to lose you already.”

Hongbin flops down on the bed, ready to give up. Even the touch of the other's warm hand on his leg feels amazing, and most of all he wants to roll over and bury himself in Wonshik's embrace, but it's too dangerous, and he knows this. ”Okay,” be breathes, almost too quietly to be heard. But Wonshik hears him, he has no doubt, especially with the way his hand comes up to his hair, carefully treading his fingers through it.

”Do you want to sleep some more?”

His voice is so soft and tender that it almost makes Hongbin angry. What has he ever done to deserve being treated this way, with care and respect? It makes his skin crawl, and he can't bring himself to reply, no matter what he would have wanted to say. Soon enough, he falls into an anxious slumber, with Wonshik there, watching over his every uneven breath.

(2/2)