Star Dust (Jiyong/Seunghyun, PG)
Title: Star Dust
Characters: Jiyong/Seunghyun, Big Bang
Rating: PG for swearing
Notes: I've never written Big Bang before, and I am not entirely happy with this, it's too melodramatic and too angsty for my liking, a bit too over the top, but - here, anyway.
Seunghyun enters the apartment to find it empty. It's strange, he thinks, because he's used to it full of boys, his boys, and they're all gone.
Except they're not supposed to be all gone. Jiyong was meant to be here, waiting for him, because Jiyong's meant to be hiding out after the news leaked and the press went beserk; mainly because Seunghyun had told him that he was coming back, coming home and Jiyong said he'd be here, and Jiyong never not keeps his word.
Seunghyun checks Jiyong's room and it's worrying that it's not neat, and Jiyong is perfectly neat; the room is dark, bedsheets crumpled; a cocoon surrounding an imprint like Jiyong stayed in bed for too long; dust on the windowsill, glass bottles and cans both in and around the bin in the corner. Seunghyun flinches involuntarily - that corner of the room reeks of alcohol.
Jiyong's laptop sits on his bed, warm and dark like it's been on for a while and has recently gone to sleep. Curious, Seunghyun taps a finger on the keypad, and it springs to life.
There's a screen of lyrics Jiyong must have been writing; Seunghyun skims through and they're so dark and sends a chill to his spine, lines like Why is everything so cold? and the mirror's empty, it's invisible, I'm invisible, I'm nothing; lines like fuck fuck fuck fuck like some kind of sick rap and this entire world I'm living in is a lie.
Seunghyun's heart quickens when he pulls the other screen open, the other screen with the anti-fan forum and their comments and he wants to yell at it, No one deserves to die, and especially not Jiyong.
Seunghyun grabs his phone and texts his leader, stares at the phone until it beeps when Jiyong texts back, and Seunghyun lets out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding.
Alive enough to be texting, at least that's something.
If I tell you will you come and find me? The text reads, white characters against the black, and Seunghyun tries to read between the words, black voids not giving him any clues.
Do you want me to come and find you?
Jiyong doesn't respond to his question. I'm on the roof, the next text says, and Seunghyun flings the door open and takes the fire stairs two at a time.
*
Cool wind blasts against his cheeks as soon as he opens the door, and Seunghyun has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from gasping aloud because he's still not sure if Jiyong wants to be found.
Jiyong's back is facing him, over on the other end of the rooftop, past the old clothes lines that no one uses and the whir of the exhaust fans, spinning and spinning with steam coming out of the vents, and Seunghyun thinks absently that it looks like one of their MV film sets.
He's on the ledge. His feet must be dangling over it. Seunghyun panicks suddenly when the thought occurs to him, freezing at his spot at the top of the stairwell, staring and staring.
Oh God, he thinks instantly, he's going to jump.
A million thoughts run through his head, like What the fuck am I supposed to do to get him off there?, he wants to run, a part of him wants to feign ignorance: he didn't know, he doesn't know, he didn't know that Jiyong was on the roof, Oh God. Fuck.
Jiyong turns then, just his head, twisting around enough to spot him in the corners of his eyes; his lips, a little blue from the cold, curl up slightly at the ends when he sees Seunghyun.
Very, very slowly, Seunghyun moves towards Jiyong, rough stone crunching softly beneath his feet.
“I just wanted to look at the stars,” Jiyong says cheerily, his voice carrying away in the wind, like a whisper or an echo, and Seunghyun thinks, how hollow, how fitting.
Jiyong looks thinner than Seunghyun remembers, eyes sunken in a little and jawline bony, cheekbones prominent, skin pale in the moonlight, his hair clipped short, ears sticking out underneath his beanie. His breath has the faintest trace of alcohol, only evident if you're looking for it, which Seunghyun takes as a good thing. Not too drunk, then.
“Why are you looking at the stars?” Seunghyun asks conversationally, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, hood pulled up around his ears. He comes up close behind Jiyong, not close enough to touch but close enough to reach out and grab a fistful of Jiyong's puffy jacket. If necessary.
Jiyong keeps looking up, neck exposed, pale and vulnerable. “They're very high up, don't you think?” and Seunghyun wants to yell at him, How much higher do you want to go?? But he doesn't because that may upset Jiyong, and he doesn't want to say the word high, simply because.
Seunghyun sits next to him as Jiyong rambles on (“How brilliant to be shining for thousands of years”, “I wonder what it'll be like up close”, “You could see the universe from up there,”), feet on the safe side of the ledge.
He holds onto the sleeve of Jiyong's jacket silently, grabbing the attached hand, cold as ice, warming it between his own hands. Jiyong says “I have never been as high as that, I have never been high enough, I'm not high enough to be like this,” and Seunghyun is not sure if he's still talking about the sky.
“Do you think flying will be fun?” Jiyong asks Seunghyun suddenly, his eyes wide and Seunghyun thinks he looks like a child.
“I think the landing will be dangerous,” he says finally.
Jiyong throws his head back and laughs, bitter, a cloud of warm air escaping his mouth. “Don't worry, Seunghyun, I have my wonderful down feathers to protect me.” He pats his puffy jacket.
Seunghyun doesn't say anything, afraid he'll make it worse.
Jiyong lapses into silence again, base of his feet lightly tapping against the ledge. Seunghyun thinks that if he kicks hard enough he'll fall right over.
“Why don't you fly with me?” Jiyong whispers, and Seunghyun has no idea what to say.
“Did you remember when you said that I needed to stand my ground whilst you flew?” and Jiyong freezes, stills his feet.
“I didn't say that. You said that.”
“When one of us is in flight the other needs to keep his feet on the ground.” Seunghyun ignores him and continues, “so we can be in balance.”
“Who are you, Buddha?” Jiyong asks angrily, and his shoulders slump when Seunghyun doesn't respond.
“So you're not coming with me,” Jiyong sighs.
Seunghyun shakes his head. “Not just that. I need you to fly back.”
Jiyong repels from him then, leaning away from him. “What if I don't want to fly back?”
“Then I won't let you go.”
“You don't understand,” Jiyong says; his voice breaks suddenly and it shocks Seunghyun. “I don't want to fly back.”
“You don't understand either,” Seunghyun retorts, “I'm the one on the ground right? I'm the one catching you when you fall. And you're falling right now, even though you're 12 stories off the ground. And I'm trying to catch you. Please let me catch you, Jiyong. You can't fly with a broken wing.”
“Who says I've got a broken wing??” Jiyong bites back bitterly.
“Jiyong, I think your heart is broken.”
Jiyong lets the tears fall then, silent and rolling down his cheeks; he trembles violently and Seunghyun doesn't let go of his hold on the back of his jacket, afraid he's done it, Jiyong will actually let himself fall off the side of the building this time.
“Seunghyun,” Jiyong finally says, voice small. “I'm cold.”
“In all your down feathers?” Seunghyun replies, lips quirking upwards.
“Freezing,” Jiyong insists, a bit louder, and Seunghyun thinks his lips are actually blue. “Seunghyun - get me off this ledge, my legs are stiff, I can't move, I don't want to fall - catch me, you have to catch me, you said so -”
Seunghyun grabs quickly at the slender boy, one hand around his slim waist, one side reaching for his thin legs - hoists him up easily, he's gotten so thin - and Jiyong's back on the safe side, he's safe, he's not teetering on the edge of blackness, and Seunghyun's knees nearly crumple beneath him.
“I'm not that heavy, am I,” God, only Jiyong could crack a joke at a time like this.
Seunghyun carries Jiyong back down to the apartment, part afraid Jiyong will trip over his feet down the stairs and part not wanting to let him go. Jiyong's breath tickles his neck.
Seunghyun sends Jiyong into bathroom, cleans Jiyong's room whilst Jiyong warms up. He leaves the bathroom door slightly ajar, to make sure Jiyong doesn't do anything stupid.
He rests his head on Jiyong's bed. Saving Jiyong was exhausting.
When Jiyong comes out, fresh pyjamas and pink with warmth, he finds Seunghyun asleep, sitting upright beside the bed with his arms folded, cradling his head against the bedsheets. A cat guarding an empty bed.
Jiyong shakes Seunghyun, who jerks awake.
“I-” Seunghyun starts, eyes glazed with fatigue, and Jiyong thinks maybe someone might need to save Seunghyun, too.
“You're tired.”
Seunghyun shakes his head again, gets up on his feet. “Did you have dinner tonight? Or just alcohol? Or nothing? Do you need to eat?”
Jiyong shakes his head.
“What do you need?”
“You to sleep. I need you to take a break.”
Seunghyun pauses, because he doesn't want to lose Jiyong again.
“I'm fine,” Jiyong answers a question that was never asked. “Better. Warm.”
Seunghyun still doesn't move from Jiyong's room. He's staring with those bright eyes again, and Jiyong can see his brain work and overthink. Seunghyun always overthinks.
“Please get some rest, Seunghyun. I'm not going anywhere.”
“I'll sleep in here.” Seunghyun responds finally, peeling off his hoodie and climbing into Jiyong's bed. “You better sleep as well.”
It's nothing they've not done before, and Jiyong both does not have the strength to and doesn't really want to protest. Seunghyun is asleep in seconds. Jiyong looks at the older boy, so much younger when he's asleep, the boy that keeps him on the ground.
Jiyong curls in beside Seunghyun and Seunghyun's arms reflexively wrap around him, secure. He could hear Seunghyun's heartbeat in his ear, steady and comforting.
Jiyong sleeps deep and without dreams.
**
Jiyong wants to get back on the roof the next day.
Seunghyun wants to yell and shake him and ask, Do you know what you put me through yesterday? except he doesn't because Jiyong's face would go cold and he would stalk back up those stairs without him, and that would just make things worse.
“I'll come with you,” he says, more a statement than an offer that can be refused, and Jiyong looks at him through squinted eyes, as if daring him to try. Seunghyun stares back because he knows he's better at it (with his big eyes); leaving Jiyong alone up there wasn't an option.
Jiyong's shoulders slump a little when he gives up. “Uncle,” he mutters, and spins his heels out of the room, leaving Seunghyun scrambling to catch up.
Seunghyun gets an odd sense of deja-vu by the time he reaches the top of the stairs. It's cold but not as much as yesterday, which was a relief because both of them had forgotten their jackets.
Jiyong's standing on the ledge now.
“Jiyong!” Seunghyun’s voice betrays the panic.
“Trust me, Seunghyun,” Jiyong commands, a hint of irritation, and Seunghyun really, really wants to. He walks up close again, looking up at his leader.
Jiyong doesn’t notice, literally gazing at the sky, head tilted up when Seunghyun wants him to look at where he’s placing his feet.
There’s a scuffling noise below Jiyong. He looks down.
“What are you doing?”
Seunghyun huffs. “I'm coming up but I'm not - flying - with you. Help me, will you?”
Jiyong pulls Seunghyun up by his arms, and Seunghyun teeters a bit, stabilizes himself, clutching Jiyong’s hand tight though not enough to hurt. Jiyong clutches at Seunghyun’s elbow and Seunghyun does the same.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Seunghyun breathes, a little breathless. He looks down and shuts his eyes, regretting it instantly.
“Look up, Seunghyun.”
“It’s not going to be any different from 2 feet lower where I’m not actually on the edge of a building.”
“Seunghyun,” Jiyong repeats, insistent.
Seunghyun looks. He sees pinpricks of light, different shades of white, like incandescent-white and yellow-white, and crystal-blue-white and pink-white and purple-white, like the white you see in natural pearls that aren’t completely white when you really, really look. He sees three in a row and vaguely remembers science class and wonders if he’s looking at Orion’s belt.
He sees black space and Jiyong keeps saying “Look, look harder than you’ve ever looked,” and he's reminded of when he tried to read between the lines of Jiyong's text. Seunghyun thinks he sees even more lights, beyond the blackness, faint like the stardust he sees mentioned in novels, so faint like he’s imagining them and maybe he is. Or maybe he isn’t, but he isn’t sure, because he thinks he sees them because maybe he just wants to see them, and his eyes start to hurt.
Seunghyun knows Jiyong is watching him, waiting for a response, and Seunghyun notices they’re still gripping each other’s arms.
“Maybe you need to overcome your fears to truly see the beautiful things?” Seunghyun suggests, and Jiyong chuckles, startled a little when he does so.
“Sometimes you say the most absurd things, hyung.” His expression sobers. “Maybe you’re right, though.” He lapses into thought.
Seunghyun hops off the ledge then, returning to the platform, stable and sturdy and familiar and safe. Jiyong, thankfully, does the same.
Seunghyun sleeps in Jiyong’s room again. Jiyong insisted.
**
When Jiyong goes to the roof the next day he finds Seunghyun already there, tinkering with the rusty clothes lines.
“What are you doing?”
“Building something.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise,” Seunghyun says, waving his hand dismissively. “Go downstairs until I tell you to come up.”
Except Jiyong ignores him, running over to the ledge again, sitting and swinging his legs over, almost habit, now, and Seunghyun wonders how often he's done this before, Seunghyun remembers that Jiyong asked him for trust and he's trying, really.
Jiyong hums a tune and Seunghyun is reminded of a drunken sailor, and panics when he's swaying, legs swinging along with his body.
“Ji,” Seunghyun says exasperatedly, and Jiyong laughs again, that manic laugh that Seunghyun never noticed much before (when on earth did that beautiful laugh become tinged with bitterness?); that Seunghyun is beginning to despise.
“What are you afraid of, Seunghyun?”
You falling, the first thought that pops into Seunghyun's head, You falling and me not being able to catch you. Except he doesn't say that because Ji would probably laugh again, laugh in his face, and if Seunghyun was the violent type he’d punch him, hard, because he was sick of worrying and he was getting tired.
“Fuck you, Jiyong,” he mutters under his breath, not intended for Jiyong to hear but of course he does.
“Excuse me?” His voice is completely cold.
Seunghyun sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, waving him over. “Why don't you come and help.”
Jiyong returns to him cautiously, like Seunghyun can strike him at any moment, even though Seunghyun's tangled amongst masses of ropes and wires.
Seunghyun flicks his eyes up at him from his position on the ground; tries to smile.
“Could you tie these rings on the tabs at the ends there?”
A pause, and then Jiyong takes the rings from his hands, settles beside him, back leaning against back. Eventually he starts humming again. Seunghyun taps along to the rhythm lightly, (Can't you see I'm on your side?), and Jiyong smiles a little.
“Oh,” Jiyong says suddenly, breaking the tune. “Is this what I think it is?” He doesn't wait for an answer, works a bit faster.
A little while later they manage to string up the hammock to the poles of the clothes lines, a net almost as wide as a small dance floor, hovering above the ground; Jiyong jumps on it with a gleeful shout, the hammock taking his light weight with ease.
“You are a child,” Seunghyun states in response. Jiyong just beams up at Seunghyun and Seunghyun doesn't understand, he doesn't understand this boy at all.
Jiyong's phone rings. It's Yongbae, who's coming home. Jiyong speaks animatedly to him. Where was that boy who was crying two days ago? Seunghyun thinks, and hopes it's a good thing.
Jiyong stares at the phone a bit after he hangs up.
“Seunghyun...the wifi reception here is amazing.”
Jiyong spends the rest of the night up on the roof with his laptop, typing up lyrics about the stars. Seunghyun brings Jiyong his blankets, and Jiyong thinks he's sleeping in a nest on a cloud.
**
Both Daesung and Yongbae are back the next day. It's crowded and a little bit more rowdy and Seunghyun wonders if the roof is quieter than the apartment, and thinks he really is getting old.
Daesung's brought back food from his family and a bit of takeaway; it's the first decent food that Seunghyun's had for about a week and it's ridiculously good.
Daesung and Yongbae talk animatedly over the dining table, and Seunghyun watches Jiyong, who's all smiles as he picks away at his food.
Jiyong catches his eye then, and Seunghyun knows his smile isn't reaching his eyes; Jiyong turns green and lets his smile drop, rushing to the bathroom, the wretched sound of hurling echoing behind him.
Daesung and Yongbae exchange worried looks, conversation dying. Seunghyun places his chopsticks down too, appetite disappated, and gets up.
“I'll do it, hyung,” Yongbae says, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back down to the table. “You've done enough.”
Seunghyun thinks, this isn't enough, I haven't fixed it, I'm not sure how to fix it - he lets Yongbae go.
“Has he been eating properly, hyung?” Daesung asks, and Seunghyun can't remember the last time Jiyong's touched food.
“It's probably just too much for him in one go,” Daesung monologues, “there was so much alcohol in the drawers, me and Yongbae-hyung threw half of it out already, but we kept a few bottles in case, well, you know...”
“We'll be alright, right?” Daesung asks again, a tinge of fear in his voice and it shoots right to his heart.
“We'll be fine.” Seunghyun speaks up then, trying to keep his voice steady and strong and reliable, and Daesung believes him, starts to tidy the dishes away. Seunghyun wishes he believed himself.
**
After he helps Daesung clear the kitchen, Seunghyun finds Yongbae and Jiyong up on the roof, and feels like a part of his personal space has been invaded.
“You do realise,” Yongbae says, reading from Jiyong's laptop, “that fuck fuck fuck is not a rap, right?”
Jiyong shrugs.
“It is if I make it to be.”
“You also realise that they can never play this on radio? They'll change it to clap clap clap or something?”
“Why -” Jiyong starts, a mildly incensed expression on his face, “- why would clap clap clap make a legit rap and not fuck fuck fuck? That's absurd. Besides clapping is totally wrong for the context of this song-”
Seunghyun clears his throat.
“Oh, hi,” Jiyong says cheerfully, like he didn't throw up the contents of his dinner an hour ago, “I thought I'd show Yongbae our spot. Do you reckon it'd hold three people?”
“I don't think I'd risk it,” Seunghyun says, handing a flask over to Jiyong, who looks at it quizzically. “Daesung made soup and is making me stay here until you finish it.”
Jiyong takes it with a glare.
Yongbae laughs a little, peering at the sky, squinting. “Why don't you guys hang out here when the sun sets? I'm sure that's nicer than the stars all the time.”
“Just because your name is Taeyang it doesn't actually mean you should like looking at the sun all the time, you'd go blind-”
“Too bad there's no dragons for you to look at, Ji-”
“They're probably living up there,” Jiyong replies indignantly , tilting his head back up.
Seunghyun looks up and sees whispy grey clouds like a veil of dove's feathers; “I think it's gonna rain,” he says, and Jiyong blinks. He sniffs at the soup and then sculls it down, breathing deeply when he finishes. He gives Seunghyun a challenging look, show Daesung I'm perfectly capable of eating something without throwing up, eyebrow raised.
“Really? With this little cloud cover? Yongbae- what- what are you doing to my lyrics-”
“I'm not, I'm blocking your access to your stupid anti-fan websites, why on earth are you even looking at these-”
“They inspire me to write angry lines-”
“Like fuck fuck fuck, you're a real Shakespeare aren't you-”
They squabble over the laptop, and Seunghyun thinks that he's feeling his age again, heading back downstairs to catch up with Daesung.
He gets a tiny bit of satisfaction when the two run in, damp from an impromptu evening shower.
**
Yongbae and Daesung seem to have taken the sunshine away when they leave, because it rains continuously the next day and there's no possibility of going up to the roof.
This leaves Jiyong in quite an irritable mood, which worsens when the higher-ups tell him to take counselling.
“Who the fuck do they think I am? Do they think I'm some suicidal, alcoholic cokehead who's completely lost it??? It was like nothing, they found traces in my hair, my god-”
Seunghyun lets him ramble because he can't think of anything useful to say that wouldn't make Jiyong pissed off, They're just looking out for you, and trying to do what's best (“Best for me or best for the company?” he can imagine Jiyong's rebuttal in his head); he gives up without trying to say They just want to save you; like I do (“I don't need saving, I can save myself!”).
“At least I've got you,” Jiyong says, hand clasped around his elbow.
“I don't cheer you up like Yongbae does,” Seunghyun says apologetically, and Jiyong stares enough to make him squirm.
“Are you serious? You think I prefer my time with Yongbae over you?”
Seunghyun shrugs. “You kind of...radiate cheer when Yongbae's around.”
“Must be his warm sunny disposition,” Jiyong quips defensively, “You're you. I like spending time with you. Cheer is exhausting.”
“So what you're saying, you like spending time with me because I'm grumpy?”
“No,” Jiyong replies, huffing, “I can be me around you. I get to throw my tantrums and rant like a madman, and I take and take from you and you just accept it, accept me, you just take it in your stride and handle it and the others just look at me all worried like I'm gonna break and go kill myself.”
“Maybe I just don't show it as much,” Seunghyun admits, and Jiyong grips his elbow a bit harder.
“I'm not going to kill myself, you know that, right?”
“Don't be stupid, of course not,” Seunghyun says, without missing a beat. “Too young to die. If you wanted to show those bastards then killing yourself is the last thing you'd do. Fuck them. You're GD, you can do anything in the world. You're the best. ”
Jiyong laughs then. “Seunghyun-ah, you're better than me.”
“Go show them, leader-sshi. We need you, Jiyong.” I need you, Jiyong.
“I love you, too,” Jiyong says automatically, a lace of sarcasm to dampen the hint of truth; he understands, and squeezes his elbow again.
Seunghyun coughs. “Shall we have a World of Warcraft marathon tonight?” and Jiyong grins.
**
“What on earth is that coming from my room?” Jiyong asks authoritatively, and Seunghyun looks up. Flickering light beams were emitting from the open doorway.
“Shit,” Seunghyun says suddenly, half-rushing down the hall. “It was a surprise, it was meant to turn on later-”
“Seunghyun, let me have a look, the surprise is ruined anyway.”
“But-” Seunghyun is silenced by a glare, and steps aside for Jiyong, eyes wide.
Jiyong's room was bathed in lights, tiny little pinpricks lighting up the ceiling, the walls, the floor, yellow-white and pink-white and purple-white; they spin slowly and Jiyong feels like he's dancing among the stars.
“They're just lights.” Seunghyun says, hopping onto Jiyong's bed, a spinning contraption next to him. Jiyong sees the lights in Seunghyun's hair.
“Wow,” Jiyong breathes, almost rendered speechless.
“This is amazing,” Jiyong adds, “Wow,” he repeats again.
“I warn you I have never been this soft-hearted in my entire life,” Seunghyun begins, and Jiyong shoots him a grin, teeth pearlescent, a genuine, cheeky grin.
“Of course it's me that you need to be soft-hearted with, isn't it?”
(Seunghyun's stomach contracts because he's always loved Jiyong's smile.)
“You're not going to fly away and not come back?” Seunghyun asks.
“Why would I do that without you? Besides, I don't need to anymore. You gave me the stars.”
They lie side by side on Jiyong's bed, gazing at the coloured lights, on the walls and the ceiling, swirling in slow, lazy patterns, and Seunghyun's reminded of their concerts with their fans waving their lightsticks in the night.
“Star lights,” Jiyong says, dreamily, “Star dust... Love dust.” Jiyong blinks. “Seunghyun, that's a good name for a song, isn't it? Love dust?” Jiyong says, and Seunghyun smiles.
~FIN~