anyone else but you
anyone else but you
gdragon/top, ot5, w/cameos by assorted yg family.
rated pg
1,271 words.
birthday fic! kinda fluffy, idk.
Daesung gets him champagne.
It’s Andy Warhol tribute Dom Perignon in a fancy black box with a patterned ribbon he guesses is supposed to look like a pair of his pants. “For when you feel down,” he’d written. “Happy birthday.”
Seunghyun guesses it’s a bad thing, that the default gift for him’s become liquor instead of something more innocuous, but he sets the bottle next to the ones from Hyunsuk and Sangwoo and reaches for his cell phone, sending a mass thank-you text before crawling into bed.
---
In Japan Seungri corners him somewhere away from the cameras. “Hyung,” he says, “Let’s go to Corso Como tomorrow. You’re not busy, right?”
He’s not, so after the performance and the hour of sleep in the air Seungri drags him into a car and out into the city. “Pick whatever you want,” he says, splaying his arms out once they get inside.
“That’s so tacky, hyung.”
“I think that’s kind of expensive.”
“Don’t you already have something like that?”
Seunghyun puts the wallet down and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I thought you said whatever I want?”
Seungri laughs before he catches his eye. “Uh, yeah, I...” He clears his throat. “Of course!”
They troop back into the dorms with six pairs of shoes. Seunghyun thinks the look on Seungri’s face is the best present of all.
---
“I didn’t get you a gift,” Youngbae says, shadowing his shoulder as they walk into the restaurant.
“That’s cool.” Seunghyun shrugs, pulling his collar up as the lights go down. “You didn’t have to--”
Youngbae looks up at him then, eyes curving into half-circles as he laughs. He dangles his keys in his hand. “I’ll be your designated driver. That’s enough, right?”
Seunghyun hides his laugh with a cough, face perfectly composed. “I don’t know why you think i’m going to get drunk.”
“...I know you?”
“Think you know so much about your hyung,” he continues as they climb stairs to the VIP room, Teddy’s hat almost blinding him as the strobes blink on. “I don’t even know myself.”
Youngbae chuckles. “Is that right?”
“Humans only use twenty percent of their brains.”
“And you’re using fuckin’ none of it tonight.” Kush elbows his way in between them, slinging arms around each of their shoulders. “Drinks on me.”
---
Seunghyun’s more than a little drunk when he stumbles into the studio. Jiyong’d shown up, of course, but the looming deadline gave him just enough time to have a drink and a raucous ‘what’s up!’ before he had to go back to YGE. He’s asleep on the desk when Seunghyun flops down next to him, hood pulled over his head.
“Hey,” Seunghyun says, nudging at his shoulder. “Jiyong.”
Jiyong’s forehead wrinkles. He turns his face into the wood.
“Jiyongie.” Seunghyun hooks a foot under a chair wheel and pulls.
Jiyong blinks awake before he tumbles into the ground, fingers scrabbling for the desk. “What the fuck?”
“Hi.” he grins, slouching into the chair next to him. “It’s my birthday.”
The corner of Jiyong’s mouth twitches. “Yeah, I know.”
“So?”
Jiyong looks at him with bleary eyes. “So you’re old.”
“So what’d you get me?”
He snorts. “You’d never say that to me sober.”
“There’s a lot of things I won’t say to you sober.”
"Yeah," he says, hand hovering over the mouse.
“You’d just make fun of me.”
Jiyong tilts his head, his smile dimming as he catches his lip between his teeth. Seunghyun says nothing as the silence stretches out.
He finally adds a faint “maybe” before he turns to the computer. “Want me to call manager-hyung? He can get you home.”
“Youngbae’s my designated driver.”
“Oh, okay.”
Jiyong goes back to work, but Seunghyun watches his shoulders tense up and his fingers go into his mouth, his teeth biting at his nails. He doesn’t look over.
“I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s fine.”
Seunghyun thinks of being eighteen and sneaking out to the corner store with him for a celebratory steamed bun, Jiyong’s eyes shining with mirth as he shoved a candle into the middle.
He thinks of being nineteen and finally buying his own alcohol, getting the both of them trashed in the dance studio after hours. Nineteen was the two of them kneeling in the hall with their hands over their heads the next day, silent laughter shaking Jiyong’s shoulders as his arms began to wobble.
When he was twenty there was Big Bang and birthday cake and hyungs ribbing him after he’d cried. They’d spent the night listening to the old demos they’d made, Jiyong’s hand sneaking into both of his own before he tucked them under his knees.
Twenty-one was dinner with YGE, the room raucous with congratulations and presents heaped in a corner, finding Jiyong in his room at two in the morning with a Bearbrick in a bag, twenty-one was stumbling over “I already have that one” before Jiyong leans up to kiss him.
Twenty-two was flu medicine and one too many drinks, hospitals and the members looking at him with wide eyes. Twenty-two was waking up to find Jiyong curled up next to him, eyes open and serious, hand fisted in his shirt.
Twenty-three was Japan and a restaurant he couldn’t read the menu of, Jiyong snapping his picture; he’d almost dropped his phone when Seungri began serenading them with the happy birthday song in Japanese.
Today he is twenty-four; Jiyong is frowning, shuttered away from him, and that’s not right. So he wheels his chair in, close enough that he can see the little furrow between Jiyong’s eyebrows, the way he bites on the inside of his mouth as his eyes flick over.
“Hyung, really--” Jiyong sighs. “I ordered you a present but it hasn’t come in yet.”
“Let’s go out.”
Jiyong gives him a look.
“You were sleeping when I came in.”
“I was just taking a break.”
“So take another one.”
---
Twenty-four is a back-alley booth with wooden stools and samgyupsal sizzling on the grill, Jiyong slurring over his fourth soju bomb. Twenty-four is getting a gallon of ice cream at the family mart with Jiyong’s money.
“I made Seungri get me six pairs of shoes,” he says, and Jiyong laughs until he adds, “I got two in your size,” and then he laughs even harder.
Twenty-four is the two of them stumbling back into the studio, where the music flows as freely as those soju bombs. Three songs get done before he pulls Jiyong down next to him on the couch. Twenty-four, Jiyong declares, is your mid-twenties, close enough to forty, and is he going to marry Hyori-noona or get back with Shin Minah?
Twenty-four is prodding at the bags under Jiyong’s eyes and saying “you look better anyway, I wouldn’t say that to you sober,” twenty-four is Jiyong almost missing his mouth when he tries to kiss him. Twenty-four is a middle school fumble on the couch, foreheads bashing together and knees knocking places they shouldn’t, Seunghyun’s voice cracking before they give up, exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up to them.
In the morning, there’s ice cream melted into the studio floor and ten text messages from Youngbae. Seunghyun wakes up to Chaerin flinging a bear-shaped Tam Tam into his face, Bom taking a picture of Jiyong’s cheek tucked against his chest. Kush and Teddy laugh harder than he’s ever seen when they play back last night’s tracks. “Happy birthday,” Jiyong rasps, voice hoarse and happy, chin hooked over his shoulder.
author's note: happy late birthday to ~the official pimp~ t.o.p!
gdragon/top, ot5, w/cameos by assorted yg family.
rated pg
1,271 words.
birthday fic! kinda fluffy, idk.
Daesung gets him champagne.
It’s Andy Warhol tribute Dom Perignon in a fancy black box with a patterned ribbon he guesses is supposed to look like a pair of his pants. “For when you feel down,” he’d written. “Happy birthday.”
Seunghyun guesses it’s a bad thing, that the default gift for him’s become liquor instead of something more innocuous, but he sets the bottle next to the ones from Hyunsuk and Sangwoo and reaches for his cell phone, sending a mass thank-you text before crawling into bed.
---
In Japan Seungri corners him somewhere away from the cameras. “Hyung,” he says, “Let’s go to Corso Como tomorrow. You’re not busy, right?”
He’s not, so after the performance and the hour of sleep in the air Seungri drags him into a car and out into the city. “Pick whatever you want,” he says, splaying his arms out once they get inside.
“That’s so tacky, hyung.”
“I think that’s kind of expensive.”
“Don’t you already have something like that?”
Seunghyun puts the wallet down and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I thought you said whatever I want?”
Seungri laughs before he catches his eye. “Uh, yeah, I...” He clears his throat. “Of course!”
They troop back into the dorms with six pairs of shoes. Seunghyun thinks the look on Seungri’s face is the best present of all.
---
“I didn’t get you a gift,” Youngbae says, shadowing his shoulder as they walk into the restaurant.
“That’s cool.” Seunghyun shrugs, pulling his collar up as the lights go down. “You didn’t have to--”
Youngbae looks up at him then, eyes curving into half-circles as he laughs. He dangles his keys in his hand. “I’ll be your designated driver. That’s enough, right?”
Seunghyun hides his laugh with a cough, face perfectly composed. “I don’t know why you think i’m going to get drunk.”
“...I know you?”
“Think you know so much about your hyung,” he continues as they climb stairs to the VIP room, Teddy’s hat almost blinding him as the strobes blink on. “I don’t even know myself.”
Youngbae chuckles. “Is that right?”
“Humans only use twenty percent of their brains.”
“And you’re using fuckin’ none of it tonight.” Kush elbows his way in between them, slinging arms around each of their shoulders. “Drinks on me.”
---
Seunghyun’s more than a little drunk when he stumbles into the studio. Jiyong’d shown up, of course, but the looming deadline gave him just enough time to have a drink and a raucous ‘what’s up!’ before he had to go back to YGE. He’s asleep on the desk when Seunghyun flops down next to him, hood pulled over his head.
“Hey,” Seunghyun says, nudging at his shoulder. “Jiyong.”
Jiyong’s forehead wrinkles. He turns his face into the wood.
“Jiyongie.” Seunghyun hooks a foot under a chair wheel and pulls.
Jiyong blinks awake before he tumbles into the ground, fingers scrabbling for the desk. “What the fuck?”
“Hi.” he grins, slouching into the chair next to him. “It’s my birthday.”
The corner of Jiyong’s mouth twitches. “Yeah, I know.”
“So?”
Jiyong looks at him with bleary eyes. “So you’re old.”
“So what’d you get me?”
He snorts. “You’d never say that to me sober.”
“There’s a lot of things I won’t say to you sober.”
"Yeah," he says, hand hovering over the mouse.
“You’d just make fun of me.”
Jiyong tilts his head, his smile dimming as he catches his lip between his teeth. Seunghyun says nothing as the silence stretches out.
He finally adds a faint “maybe” before he turns to the computer. “Want me to call manager-hyung? He can get you home.”
“Youngbae’s my designated driver.”
“Oh, okay.”
Jiyong goes back to work, but Seunghyun watches his shoulders tense up and his fingers go into his mouth, his teeth biting at his nails. He doesn’t look over.
“I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s fine.”
Seunghyun thinks of being eighteen and sneaking out to the corner store with him for a celebratory steamed bun, Jiyong’s eyes shining with mirth as he shoved a candle into the middle.
He thinks of being nineteen and finally buying his own alcohol, getting the both of them trashed in the dance studio after hours. Nineteen was the two of them kneeling in the hall with their hands over their heads the next day, silent laughter shaking Jiyong’s shoulders as his arms began to wobble.
When he was twenty there was Big Bang and birthday cake and hyungs ribbing him after he’d cried. They’d spent the night listening to the old demos they’d made, Jiyong’s hand sneaking into both of his own before he tucked them under his knees.
Twenty-one was dinner with YGE, the room raucous with congratulations and presents heaped in a corner, finding Jiyong in his room at two in the morning with a Bearbrick in a bag, twenty-one was stumbling over “I already have that one” before Jiyong leans up to kiss him.
Twenty-two was flu medicine and one too many drinks, hospitals and the members looking at him with wide eyes. Twenty-two was waking up to find Jiyong curled up next to him, eyes open and serious, hand fisted in his shirt.
Twenty-three was Japan and a restaurant he couldn’t read the menu of, Jiyong snapping his picture; he’d almost dropped his phone when Seungri began serenading them with the happy birthday song in Japanese.
Today he is twenty-four; Jiyong is frowning, shuttered away from him, and that’s not right. So he wheels his chair in, close enough that he can see the little furrow between Jiyong’s eyebrows, the way he bites on the inside of his mouth as his eyes flick over.
“Hyung, really--” Jiyong sighs. “I ordered you a present but it hasn’t come in yet.”
“Let’s go out.”
Jiyong gives him a look.
“You were sleeping when I came in.”
“I was just taking a break.”
“So take another one.”
---
Twenty-four is a back-alley booth with wooden stools and samgyupsal sizzling on the grill, Jiyong slurring over his fourth soju bomb. Twenty-four is getting a gallon of ice cream at the family mart with Jiyong’s money.
“I made Seungri get me six pairs of shoes,” he says, and Jiyong laughs until he adds, “I got two in your size,” and then he laughs even harder.
Twenty-four is the two of them stumbling back into the studio, where the music flows as freely as those soju bombs. Three songs get done before he pulls Jiyong down next to him on the couch. Twenty-four, Jiyong declares, is your mid-twenties, close enough to forty, and is he going to marry Hyori-noona or get back with Shin Minah?
Twenty-four is prodding at the bags under Jiyong’s eyes and saying “you look better anyway, I wouldn’t say that to you sober,” twenty-four is Jiyong almost missing his mouth when he tries to kiss him. Twenty-four is a middle school fumble on the couch, foreheads bashing together and knees knocking places they shouldn’t, Seunghyun’s voice cracking before they give up, exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up to them.
In the morning, there’s ice cream melted into the studio floor and ten text messages from Youngbae. Seunghyun wakes up to Chaerin flinging a bear-shaped Tam Tam into his face, Bom taking a picture of Jiyong’s cheek tucked against his chest. Kush and Teddy laugh harder than he’s ever seen when they play back last night’s tracks. “Happy birthday,” Jiyong rasps, voice hoarse and happy, chin hooked over his shoulder.
author's note: happy late birthday to ~the official pimp~ t.o.p!