[infinite] smart bomb (5/7)
smart bomb
infinite, hoya/sungyeol, yoonhye/hoya, noeul/sungyeol (this part)
pg-13; ongoing
ao3 mirror
cott (december 2008)
It’s three minutes to 2009 and Sungyeol is drunk. The four of them - Sungyeol, Yoonhye, Hoya, and Yoonhye’s friend Noeul, visiting on her university break - had started drinking even before their order of chicken arrived, and it’s only progressed from there. Even so, Sungyeol thinks he’s the best off out of all of them right now. Noeul might be less drunk than he is, but it’s hard to tell; she’s remained just as chatty through three bottles of Hite beer and some soju. Sungyeol can’t tell if she likes him. He wants her to like him just on principle, but he doesn’t like the feeling that Yoonhye only invited her along to occupy him, too polite to outright block him from spending New Year’s Eve with her and Hoya - or the other way around.
At the very least, they’re all doing better than Hoya, who’s lapsed into silent staring at the pattern of the Jungs’ carpet rather than the end-of-year music show on TV. To be fair, there’s no music right now, just the announcers chattering amongst themselves to fill the time. Sungyeol reaches over and slaps Hoya’s knee and he only sways a little. “Yah. You gonna make it to the new year or will you pass out on us?”
“Not too much longer,” says Yoonhye, and she pats Hoya’s arm where they’ve linked elbows. “They’ll stop talking eventually.”
Noeul picks a scrap of meat off of one of the wing bones on the plate in front of her, all that remains of their dinner. “You have to stay awake to kiss your girlfriend, Lee Howon,” she says. “You can fall asleep when you’ve done your duty.”
“I’m not asleep,” mumbles Hoya. He rocks back and forth on his butt. “It’s still 2008.”
“You have to kiss her just before midnight,” Noeul repeats with a grin, “so she’ll have a good end to the year and a good start to the new year.”
“And what about him?” says Sungyeol. “Doesn’t he get a good start to the new year too?”
“Isn’t every day wonderful with his girlfriend?” replies Noeul, fluttering her eyelashes. Yoonhye rolls her eyes, but she giggles and bows her head.
“Eight, seven,” Hoya says suddenly with the TV audience, and the others shout in surprise and start counting too.
“That was too fast,” mutters Sungyeol. Noeul laughs, but her eyes are on the flashing numbers on the screen.
Two, one. The audience cheers, the bell rings, and as if his on switch has suddenly been flipped, Hoya turns and kisses Yoonhye, before Sungyeol can even wish him a happy new year.
Sungyeol hears his name being called but he doesn’t turn around. He’s trying not to watch Hoya and Yoonhye kiss, the way their noses rub together and Yoonhye’s hands dangle over Hoya’s shoulders, but he can’t look away.
“Yah, Lee Sungyeol.” This time his name is accompanied by a hand on his shoulder, and he exclaims and turns. Noeul’s there, smiling more with one side of her mouth than the other. She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows, and it’s like everything falls into place around them, and there’s only one thing for Sungyeol to do. He crawls to close the distance between them and presses his lips to hers. Her lips are a little dry, but they’re soft and thin and warm, and most of all they’re there against his.
She pulls away first, just far enough to open her eyes halfway. She’s smiling. Sungyeol’s heart is thudding a thousand beats per minute. “Happy new year,” she says softly.
“Noona,” he stammers back. He wants to kiss her again, but he also just wants to rest his head on her shoulder and put his face in her breasts. She giggles, and he wonders if she’s read his mind. If only the air between them wasn’t too heavy for him to move.
Someone’s giving a speech on TV. Noeul glances away, and Sungyeol follows the line of her eyes to the screen. “Let’s drink more,” she says, sitting back a bit, “to celebrate.”
“Sure,” says Sungyeol, not knowing what else to say. A drink sounds good right now. His face and neck still feel like they’re on fire.
He watches the show for a bit, and then Hoya taps him on his other shoulder. “Lee Sungyeol.” When Sungyeol doesn’t respond, he says it again, louder. “Lee Sungyeol.”
“What do you want?” Sungyeol turns and Hoya’s looking right at him, his stare too level to be sober. Behind him, Yoonhye is looking at Sungyeol too. She’s hugging a pillow against her chest, covering up the bottom half of her face, so that Sungyeol only sees her big eyes.
Hoya brings his hands up to either side of Sungyeol’s face. His grip is firm, not too hard, but Sungyeol still feels like he’s cemented in place. Hoya examines Sungyeol’s face, then his eyes drop lower, and he leans in and kisses him on the mouth. He’s trying to keep his chin and lips stiff, maybe, but the alcohol betrays him and makes him loosen a little, so that Sungyeol can feel the soft wetness of the inside of his bottom lip, the tremors of his cheek against Sungyeol’s.
Sungyeol brings his hands up to grip Hoya’s wrists, but it takes a few moments before he finds the strength to pull Hoya’s hands off of his face and turns his head out of the kiss. Hoya stays where he is, mostly leaning forward on his knees. Sungyeol stares at him. Even drunk, he knows what he should do now: he should swear, he should hit Hoya, he should call him crazy and a homo and make Yoonhye kick him out. But it doesn’t feel natural, the way his actions had felt natural before. His voice is caught in his throat, at the back of his dry tongue, so that it backs up into his lungs and makes it hard to breathe. All he can do is stare at Hoya, with the feeling of Hoya’s warm lips missing from his.
“For a good start to the new year,” says Hoya finally. He sits back on his heels. His voice is gravelly. Sungyeol can’t tell if he’s smiling when he pulls his mouth straight. He looks from Hoya to Yoonhye, who’s watching the TV now, still clutching the pillow.
Noeul sits down next to him and hands him a soju glass, and he turns his whole body away from Hoya towards her. “You okay?” she asks with a smile. Sungyeol looks down into the glass, and the rotten varnish smell of soju and the idea of it settling into his stomach suddenly makes him queasy.
“I need to go,” he mumbles, and he stands up, still carrying the soju glass, and stumbles to the hall. Noeul reaches out but he waves her away. “I’ll be okay.” Yoonhye’s parents are sleeping and his footfalls are loud, but he makes it into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
He puts the soju glass down and kneels in front of the toilet, staring into the water. He’s dizzy suddenly, and his body doesn’t feel right, at once hot and cold, hungry and too full. There’s a faint reflection of his face in the water, his lips and teeth. He thinks about Noeul, the feeling of her lips against his, but then he feels Hoya’s grip on both sides of his face and sees the heaviness in his eyes.
Nothing’s coming out. He turns and sits, leaning his back against the toilet, and stares up at the ceiling. There’s something weird about Hoya, definitely, and Sungyeol’s known this from when they first met. But that means there’s something weird about Sungyeol, too. It’s not evil, but it’s strange, and it’s not something he wants to think about right now. Or ever.
Sungyeol comes out of the bathroom and Noeul is right there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She reaches one hand out to him. “It’s time to go home,” she says.
Now that he’s standing up, Sungyeol’s whole body feels like it’s shimmering, like it’s fading away and his brain has direct access to the world now. “I told you, I’m fine,” he says, and he starts moving past her back to the living room, back to Hoya. He can still hear the TV playing, a girl group song he can’t distinguish at this distance and volume.
“Sungyeol.” Noeul grabs his sleeve, fingertips grazing his arm, and he stops. She tilts her head down to gaze up at him and her eyes are serious. “Trust me, it’s time for us to go.”
Sungyeol stares at her, dazed, before it clicks. “Are they having sex in there?”
Noeul yanks on his sleeve and pulls him all the way to the front door. She doesn’t even let go as she finds his shoes on the floor and sets them in front of him. “Walk your noona home like a good kid.”
They don’t say goodbye. When Yoonhye’s door closes behind them the noise of the TV vanishes and everything is silent around them, muted under snow. The night air pushes at Sungyeol’s ears, but it’s not that cold. Noeul’s arm is linked through his and she pulls him down the street. Sungyeol hardly feels like he’s walking, more just rolling forward.
“You don’t even live here,” he says finally, when they’re safely far away from Yoonhye’s house. “You go to school in Seoul.”
“I’m staying at my aunt’s house,” Noeul replies. “Alone,” she adds, after a moment’s pause, and glances sideways at him. “The show’s not done yet. We could watch the end there if you want.”
“I don’t care about the show,” says Sungyeol. “I just…” He thinks about what he does want. There’s Noeul, standing beside him, with her easy laugh. There’s Hoya, back behind him, who kissed Sungyeol and is having sex with his girlfriend right now.
He’s stopped moving and Noeul stops too, a bit away from him, and turns around. “What’s the matter?” Sungyeol’s looking at her but he doesn’t see her. Then she chuckles softly and walks closer to him. Her hands are tucked into her jacket pockets. “Lee Sungyeol,” she says, and he lowers his eyelids and dips forward slightly, but she doesn’t kiss him, just smiles. “I can take it from here.”
“No,” says Sungyeol, and he moves forward but stumbles. “Noona, you shouldn’t walk by yourself.”
Noeul tosses her head back, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “I’ll be okay. I live in Seoul, remember? I’m tough.” She steps away from him. “You should go home,” she says, and her voice wavers a bit for the first time all night. “Get some sleep. Eat your mom’s soup in the morning.”
Sungyeol can’t think about soup right now. “But...”
Noeul is too far away from him now and he can’t move. “I go back next week, let’s hang out before then,” she calls. “Happy new year.”
Sungyeol watches her walk away, her hands in her pockets and her balance perfect. Then he starts walking, too, back towards his apartment. He doesn’t feel drunk anymore, just like he can only focus on one thing, and right now that’s not the lingering boner in his pants or anyone’s lips or what either one means about him. If he gets home, he can go to bed and bury himself in the covers and when he wakes up, he can pretend that the new year started there, with just him alone.
<< >>
notes:
- a few days late is better than eight months late!
- my ask.fm for questions, comments, prompts, etc.
infinite, hoya/sungyeol, yoonhye/hoya, noeul/sungyeol (this part)
pg-13; ongoing
ao3 mirror
cott (december 2008)
It’s three minutes to 2009 and Sungyeol is drunk. The four of them - Sungyeol, Yoonhye, Hoya, and Yoonhye’s friend Noeul, visiting on her university break - had started drinking even before their order of chicken arrived, and it’s only progressed from there. Even so, Sungyeol thinks he’s the best off out of all of them right now. Noeul might be less drunk than he is, but it’s hard to tell; she’s remained just as chatty through three bottles of Hite beer and some soju. Sungyeol can’t tell if she likes him. He wants her to like him just on principle, but he doesn’t like the feeling that Yoonhye only invited her along to occupy him, too polite to outright block him from spending New Year’s Eve with her and Hoya - or the other way around.
At the very least, they’re all doing better than Hoya, who’s lapsed into silent staring at the pattern of the Jungs’ carpet rather than the end-of-year music show on TV. To be fair, there’s no music right now, just the announcers chattering amongst themselves to fill the time. Sungyeol reaches over and slaps Hoya’s knee and he only sways a little. “Yah. You gonna make it to the new year or will you pass out on us?”
“Not too much longer,” says Yoonhye, and she pats Hoya’s arm where they’ve linked elbows. “They’ll stop talking eventually.”
Noeul picks a scrap of meat off of one of the wing bones on the plate in front of her, all that remains of their dinner. “You have to stay awake to kiss your girlfriend, Lee Howon,” she says. “You can fall asleep when you’ve done your duty.”
“I’m not asleep,” mumbles Hoya. He rocks back and forth on his butt. “It’s still 2008.”
“You have to kiss her just before midnight,” Noeul repeats with a grin, “so she’ll have a good end to the year and a good start to the new year.”
“And what about him?” says Sungyeol. “Doesn’t he get a good start to the new year too?”
“Isn’t every day wonderful with his girlfriend?” replies Noeul, fluttering her eyelashes. Yoonhye rolls her eyes, but she giggles and bows her head.
“Eight, seven,” Hoya says suddenly with the TV audience, and the others shout in surprise and start counting too.
“That was too fast,” mutters Sungyeol. Noeul laughs, but her eyes are on the flashing numbers on the screen.
Two, one. The audience cheers, the bell rings, and as if his on switch has suddenly been flipped, Hoya turns and kisses Yoonhye, before Sungyeol can even wish him a happy new year.
Sungyeol hears his name being called but he doesn’t turn around. He’s trying not to watch Hoya and Yoonhye kiss, the way their noses rub together and Yoonhye’s hands dangle over Hoya’s shoulders, but he can’t look away.
“Yah, Lee Sungyeol.” This time his name is accompanied by a hand on his shoulder, and he exclaims and turns. Noeul’s there, smiling more with one side of her mouth than the other. She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows, and it’s like everything falls into place around them, and there’s only one thing for Sungyeol to do. He crawls to close the distance between them and presses his lips to hers. Her lips are a little dry, but they’re soft and thin and warm, and most of all they’re there against his.
She pulls away first, just far enough to open her eyes halfway. She’s smiling. Sungyeol’s heart is thudding a thousand beats per minute. “Happy new year,” she says softly.
“Noona,” he stammers back. He wants to kiss her again, but he also just wants to rest his head on her shoulder and put his face in her breasts. She giggles, and he wonders if she’s read his mind. If only the air between them wasn’t too heavy for him to move.
Someone’s giving a speech on TV. Noeul glances away, and Sungyeol follows the line of her eyes to the screen. “Let’s drink more,” she says, sitting back a bit, “to celebrate.”
“Sure,” says Sungyeol, not knowing what else to say. A drink sounds good right now. His face and neck still feel like they’re on fire.
He watches the show for a bit, and then Hoya taps him on his other shoulder. “Lee Sungyeol.” When Sungyeol doesn’t respond, he says it again, louder. “Lee Sungyeol.”
“What do you want?” Sungyeol turns and Hoya’s looking right at him, his stare too level to be sober. Behind him, Yoonhye is looking at Sungyeol too. She’s hugging a pillow against her chest, covering up the bottom half of her face, so that Sungyeol only sees her big eyes.
Hoya brings his hands up to either side of Sungyeol’s face. His grip is firm, not too hard, but Sungyeol still feels like he’s cemented in place. Hoya examines Sungyeol’s face, then his eyes drop lower, and he leans in and kisses him on the mouth. He’s trying to keep his chin and lips stiff, maybe, but the alcohol betrays him and makes him loosen a little, so that Sungyeol can feel the soft wetness of the inside of his bottom lip, the tremors of his cheek against Sungyeol’s.
Sungyeol brings his hands up to grip Hoya’s wrists, but it takes a few moments before he finds the strength to pull Hoya’s hands off of his face and turns his head out of the kiss. Hoya stays where he is, mostly leaning forward on his knees. Sungyeol stares at him. Even drunk, he knows what he should do now: he should swear, he should hit Hoya, he should call him crazy and a homo and make Yoonhye kick him out. But it doesn’t feel natural, the way his actions had felt natural before. His voice is caught in his throat, at the back of his dry tongue, so that it backs up into his lungs and makes it hard to breathe. All he can do is stare at Hoya, with the feeling of Hoya’s warm lips missing from his.
“For a good start to the new year,” says Hoya finally. He sits back on his heels. His voice is gravelly. Sungyeol can’t tell if he’s smiling when he pulls his mouth straight. He looks from Hoya to Yoonhye, who’s watching the TV now, still clutching the pillow.
Noeul sits down next to him and hands him a soju glass, and he turns his whole body away from Hoya towards her. “You okay?” she asks with a smile. Sungyeol looks down into the glass, and the rotten varnish smell of soju and the idea of it settling into his stomach suddenly makes him queasy.
“I need to go,” he mumbles, and he stands up, still carrying the soju glass, and stumbles to the hall. Noeul reaches out but he waves her away. “I’ll be okay.” Yoonhye’s parents are sleeping and his footfalls are loud, but he makes it into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
He puts the soju glass down and kneels in front of the toilet, staring into the water. He’s dizzy suddenly, and his body doesn’t feel right, at once hot and cold, hungry and too full. There’s a faint reflection of his face in the water, his lips and teeth. He thinks about Noeul, the feeling of her lips against his, but then he feels Hoya’s grip on both sides of his face and sees the heaviness in his eyes.
Nothing’s coming out. He turns and sits, leaning his back against the toilet, and stares up at the ceiling. There’s something weird about Hoya, definitely, and Sungyeol’s known this from when they first met. But that means there’s something weird about Sungyeol, too. It’s not evil, but it’s strange, and it’s not something he wants to think about right now. Or ever.
Sungyeol comes out of the bathroom and Noeul is right there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She reaches one hand out to him. “It’s time to go home,” she says.
Now that he’s standing up, Sungyeol’s whole body feels like it’s shimmering, like it’s fading away and his brain has direct access to the world now. “I told you, I’m fine,” he says, and he starts moving past her back to the living room, back to Hoya. He can still hear the TV playing, a girl group song he can’t distinguish at this distance and volume.
“Sungyeol.” Noeul grabs his sleeve, fingertips grazing his arm, and he stops. She tilts her head down to gaze up at him and her eyes are serious. “Trust me, it’s time for us to go.”
Sungyeol stares at her, dazed, before it clicks. “Are they having sex in there?”
Noeul yanks on his sleeve and pulls him all the way to the front door. She doesn’t even let go as she finds his shoes on the floor and sets them in front of him. “Walk your noona home like a good kid.”
They don’t say goodbye. When Yoonhye’s door closes behind them the noise of the TV vanishes and everything is silent around them, muted under snow. The night air pushes at Sungyeol’s ears, but it’s not that cold. Noeul’s arm is linked through his and she pulls him down the street. Sungyeol hardly feels like he’s walking, more just rolling forward.
“You don’t even live here,” he says finally, when they’re safely far away from Yoonhye’s house. “You go to school in Seoul.”
“I’m staying at my aunt’s house,” Noeul replies. “Alone,” she adds, after a moment’s pause, and glances sideways at him. “The show’s not done yet. We could watch the end there if you want.”
“I don’t care about the show,” says Sungyeol. “I just…” He thinks about what he does want. There’s Noeul, standing beside him, with her easy laugh. There’s Hoya, back behind him, who kissed Sungyeol and is having sex with his girlfriend right now.
He’s stopped moving and Noeul stops too, a bit away from him, and turns around. “What’s the matter?” Sungyeol’s looking at her but he doesn’t see her. Then she chuckles softly and walks closer to him. Her hands are tucked into her jacket pockets. “Lee Sungyeol,” she says, and he lowers his eyelids and dips forward slightly, but she doesn’t kiss him, just smiles. “I can take it from here.”
“No,” says Sungyeol, and he moves forward but stumbles. “Noona, you shouldn’t walk by yourself.”
Noeul tosses her head back, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “I’ll be okay. I live in Seoul, remember? I’m tough.” She steps away from him. “You should go home,” she says, and her voice wavers a bit for the first time all night. “Get some sleep. Eat your mom’s soup in the morning.”
Sungyeol can’t think about soup right now. “But...”
Noeul is too far away from him now and he can’t move. “I go back next week, let’s hang out before then,” she calls. “Happy new year.”
Sungyeol watches her walk away, her hands in her pockets and her balance perfect. Then he starts walking, too, back towards his apartment. He doesn’t feel drunk anymore, just like he can only focus on one thing, and right now that’s not the lingering boner in his pants or anyone’s lips or what either one means about him. If he gets home, he can go to bed and bury himself in the covers and when he wakes up, he can pretend that the new year started there, with just him alone.
<< >>
notes:
- a few days late is better than eight months late!
- my ask.fm for questions, comments, prompts, etc.