[oneshot] and a self esteem to match (what a catch) (1/2)
Title: and a self esteem to match (what a catch)
Pairings: gtop
Rating: nc17
Genre: romance, au
Warnings: swearing, sex, anti-queer bigotry, recreational drug use
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: weekend au. seunghyun meets jiyong at a gay bar in itaewon and things spiral out from there. previous viewing of the film isn't necessary (but you should watch it anyway because it's fantastic)! 12,600 words.
Seunghyun takes the 421 down to Hannam, trundles past Itaewon's glittering lights, the FamilyMart at the sharp turn, and the one 7-Eleven right on the river where the lady at the cash register gives him discounts on the dukbokki every Tuesday. The sun's just dipped below the horizon by the time he disembarks, and the cicadas are out in full force, chirping their cacophonous symphony from the trees.
He walks the rest of the way, hands jammed in his pockets, earphones slung loose around his neck. There are dim shapes moving behind the sheer curtains as he trudges up the sidewalk to Daesung's house, and two overturned toy cars lie forgotten in the driveway-Harang's, probably. Seunghyun scoops them up and runs his thumb down the wooden veneer of the front door before rapping twice.
A deluge of noise spills out as the door swings open: the slick-quick squeak of hinges, Dongwook's voice and Bom's laugh, loud cracks of party poppers and plates clinking in the kitchen and an exasperated plea from Daesung for Jeesoo to please-for the love of God, you aren't a monkey, will you please stop swinging from the lamp?
"You came!" Hyori says over the racket, delighted, and accepts the proffered Hot Wheels with much aplomb.
"Of course I did, o ye of little faith," Seunghyun scoffs. He flicks his fingers through the bit of fringe sticking out from under his hat. "Sorry about being late. I got caught in traffic."
"It's fine, we've only just gotten started," she says, eyes crinkling at the corners. She ushers Seunghyun in through the doorway, holds him at arm's length for a moment. "Hey. It's really good to see you."
Seunghyun leans obligingly into the hug that comes next. Hyori's other arm loops around to clasp his neck and her head tucks itself where his neck and shoulder meet. "Yeah. Yeah, you too."
"Come on, then," she says, clapping him on the back. "I'll get you a beer."
The floor lamp's looking rather worse for wear when Seunghyun strolls into the living room, but Jeesoo seems to have finally settled down next to Haeum and Harang. All three of them are glued to the television, wide-eyed and quiet, watching Doraemon. Daesung catches his eye and sends him a beleaguered expression to which Seunghyun can only grin in reply.
Bom comes in from the kitchen with porcelain plates and elbows him in the stomach, sticking her tongue out. "You're late, jerk."
Seunghyun puts on what he hopes is a suitably contrite expression. "Sorry, noona."
"I'm so sure," she says, rolling her eyes. "Go pass the plates out and reflect on your crimes."
The Doraemon episode ends by the time the food's ready and the kids are sleepily falling over each other. Daesung ushers them up to bed and returns armed with two large bowls of rice and several more beers. Hyori pulls in chairs from the bedroom. Sean hands him a chipped pair of chopsticks.
The table's piled high with beef bulgogi and spicy samgyupsal and a truly terrifying amount of kimchi. Hanbyul starts talking about autumn wedding plans and Dongwook segues into the bachelor party. Seunghyun nods and smiles to the rhythm of the conversation, chuckles when Bom says something cheeky about the idea of hiring a high-end stripper. It's always been easy to slip back into this, comfortable like a hand fitting into an old glove.
"It's a great idea," Kyungil says defensively. "Right, Seunghyun?"
Seunghyun gazes vaguely into the middle distance and sticks a piece of beef into his mouth. Bom's giggling into his shoulder. "Sure, strippers are nice."
Dongwook grins at him. "Damn straight."
"Fine!" Hyori says with a tone of finality, crossing her arms. "We'll get Hanbyul a stripper too!"
"Oh, God," Hyeyoung says, folding her head into her hands.
Bom flicks a peanut at her. "Come on, unnie. Haven't you seen Magic Mike?"
Daesung finds him after dinner and breaks out the soju, a knowing look on his face. "Thanks," Seunghyun says, and downs the shot he's handed in one gulp.
"Only the best for you," Daesung says, sipping on his own. A pause, and then: "You're coming on Sunday, aren't you?"
Seunghyun sends him an insulted look. "You're joking, right? You know Jeesoo would probably kill me with if I didn't make it. Plus, I got her the greatest gift." He waggles his eyebrows.
"God, of course you did," he replies, the corner of his mouth curling up. "You spoil her, you know. It's not right. You make us look bad."
Seunghyun smiles. "Isn't that what are godfathers for?"
"You kind of dropped off the grid for a little bit there," Daesung says after his third shot, their hands bumping together companionably. "Anything happen? Work stuff?" He nudges Seunghyun's shoulder. "Did you find someone?"
Seunghyun thinks about the steady string of one-night stands he's been indulging in all summer and half-nods. "Got a promotion," he says.
"Hey, moving up in the world," Daesung exclaims-which, of course, calls for another two rounds at the very least.
Seunghyun takes his leave at nine, citing work in the morning. Hyori squeezes his arm and Daesung envelops him in a hug. "See you on Sunday, alright?"
He salutes from the porch, tucks his hat back on. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
It's raining when he ducks into the bus, big droplets splashing against the windows and obscuring everything with their hazy concavity. The soju's worked up a pleasant buzz in his head, which is maybe why he gets off three stops early instead of going straight home, traces familiar steps to Hive.
Some house remix of a Korean pop song floats up from the narrow stairwell. Seunghyun flicks the bouncer a couple of bills and makes a beeline straight for the bar.
Perry isn't DJ-ing tonight-someone Seunghyun doesn't recognize is at the mixer spinning beats-but Hyuksoo's just finished making drinks for a group of foreigners. He takes one look at Seunghyun and mixes him something more vodka than not, slides it over the linoleum. Seunghyun mimes a thank you and takes a large gulp, strobe lights streaking colors through the glass.
He shuffles along the edges of the gyrating dancers before giving up and going back to the bar, bobbing his head to the low thrum of bass. A blur of motion at the other end of the bar catches his eye and materializes into a pair of dark, kohl-rimmed eyes and a shock of bright red hair. He's at least a full head shorter than Seunghyun is, and his smile's tinged with something sharp and wicked. When he leans in close to speak to the girl he's with, the overlarge shirt he's wearing slips a little to reveal the smooth curve of clavicle.
Seunghyun ends up following him to the bathroom, casts him sidelong glances beneath the flickering fluorescent tube above the urinals. His eyeliner's smudged and his skinny jeans are a violent shade of orange. Seunghyun swallows when the kid zips back up and meets his gaze dead on, looks him up and down appraisingly before sauntering out the door. Seunghyun's left with another skinny slip of a guy, who's all wide eyes and saccharine smiles and latches on to Seunghyun with all the force and suction of a jellyfish.
Seungri, he breathes by way of introduction into Seunghyun's ear, and tugs him onto the dance floor. The music's pounding loud in his ears, and it occurs to him through his alcohol-soaked daze that there's something so simple about being able to fall into the mad crush of people, and not have to think about anything else but the solid line of someone's torso pressed against his.
That is, of course, until he sees a scowling face and rather intimidating set of biceps turned toward them from the bar. A minute later, the redhead gets up from his booth and pulls Seunghyun away. Seungri smacks a kiss on Seunghyun's cheek and mumbles something like God, Jiyong always steals the good ones before letting him go, melting back into the faceless crowd.
"Hi," Seunghyun says, blinking down at him.
"Hey," Jiyong returns. He plays with the spikes in his ears, grins that sharp half-grin again. "Sorry about Seungri."
"Nah, he was-nice," Seunghyun says with a mostly straight face.
"A bit too nice," Jiyong agrees, thumbing the rim of his cocktail glass, "but that's just him." He tilts his head to the side and looks up through his lashes. "So, are you going to take me home or are you just going to stand there fucking staring at me all night?"
It's still raining hard when they get out onto the street, and yet somehow they make it back to Seunghyun's apartment without any major occurrences of bodily injury. Jiyong has a lit cigarette balanced between his fingers-he stubs it out to peel his shirt off, pupils blown wide, and leans up to press a kiss into the corner of Seunghyun's mouth.
"Missed," he mutters, laughing. "Sorry."
"If at first you don't succeed-" Seunghyun begins wryly, too drunk for the cliché to deter as it slips out of his mouth, but he doesn't get a chance to finish before Jiyong's shoving him into bed, lips warm and wet and everywhere-and then it's just a blur of skin on skin: impressions of a tongue tracing his abdomen and the column of his throat and the crease of his leg where it meets his hip, hands pulling at the erection Seunghyun should be far too drunk to have, a mouth sucking bruises into his collarbone.
In the morning it feels like something's trying to break out of his head with a goddamn battering ram. His mouth's so woolly that he can barely open it.
He slides out of bed and drags himself into the bathroom. Yesterday's shirt is hooked over the handle of the sink for some reason and he yanks it on, splashes water in his face and halfheartedly brushes his teeth, gargles some mouthwash. He sits on the closed toilet seat for a while, waiting for the urge to clutch the bowl and hurl into the water at the bottom of the basin to pass.
He moves to the kitchenette and puts a pot of coffee on when he hears faint stirring from the bedroom. He winces at the light streaming in through the window and tries (fails) to locate his dusty bottle of aspirin. He waits for the timer to ping, pours a generous amount of milk and sugar into both mugs when the coffee's done and pads back to the room.
Jiyong is peering at his own fringe in the mirror across from the bed, still unabashedly naked. Seunghyun leans on the doorframe and stares at the planes Jiyong's back curving down into the smooth expanse of his ass, and the huge hickey above the edge of his hipbone that Seunghyun can just see, partially hidden by the way Jiyong's inclined against the desk. The previous night comes back to him in snatches: eyes half-lidded in the dark, the full weight of Jiyong's dick in his hand, Seunghyun's teeth catching on the lobes of his ears. Jesus Christ.
The object of his study turns, earrings swinging. His smile's softer around the edges, muddled from sleep, and his hair is tousled enough in the muted light of day that Seunghyun can see the roots starting to grow out.
"Well," he croaks, gazing meaningfully at the extra cup in Seunghyun's hand. "Are you going to give me that coffee?"
"Right, of course," Seunghyun says, flustered despite himself. He takes a gulp of his own and hands the other to Jiyong, who thanks him, sips primly, and manages to climb back under the covers without spilling a drop.
"When d'you have work?"
"Eleven," he says thickly, tongue burning.
"Oh, it's way too early for that," Jiyong scoffs, patting the empty space beside him. "Come back to bed."
Seunghyun processes this. Jiyong raises his eyebrows, as if to say Really? This is the thing you're choosing to overanalyze? "Alright," he breathes, and clambers in, back sinking into the pillows.
"You were pretty far gone, last night," Jiyong says around the rim of his cup, and waves Seunghyun's apology away. "Nah, I just had to do a bit of damage control, you know. Unglue you from Seungri so that Youngbae wouldn't come over and rough you up a bit." Jiyong chuckles. "He's normally the sweetest guy ever, but get a couple in him and everything goes topsy-turvy."
"Angry drunk?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
Seunghyun shrugs. "And I suppose Seungri's the clingy drunk."
"Yeah-like I said, sorry about him," Jiyong says, waving a hand. "He's always like that when we go somewhere new."
"Aw, he wasn't so bad. Sweet, really."
Jiyong's eyebrows go so high they disappear behind his bangs. "You go for guys like him? I don't know if I should feel insulted or-"
The dry look he sends Jiyong cuts him off.
Jiyong's eyes narrow, and then a second later his brow furrows and he sticks a finger under Seunghyun's nose.
"What?" Seunghyun asks. "Is there something on my face?"
"I smell toothpaste," he accuses, poking Seunghyun's chest. "You brushed your teeth, you asshole."
"And?"
Jiyong sets his empty cup down on the bedside table and makes a face, rolls out of bed. "And, he asks, completely unaware of the fact that he's broken the cardinal rule of any sexual encounter. See, now you smell all minty fresh, while I reek of cock and dried sweat and the worst morning breath in the world."
"You can use my toothbrush, if you like," Seunghyun replies blandly.
Jiyong's mouth twitches at the deliberate attempt to derail the conversation. He bends down to pick his boxer briefs off the floor, slides them on in one smooth motion. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'd rather get what you promised me."
Seunghyun blinks, tilts his head to the side. "What?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten."
He picks through the ruins of the previous night and vaguely recalls something. "Really? I didn't think you were serious."
"Why did you think I slept with you?" Jiyong points out, hands poised on his hips, and Seunghyun can't even dredge up the energy to take offense when Jiyong's looking at him like that, eyes gleaming with something too sharp to be amusement.
"I'm not going to do it," Seunghyn protests feebly. He watches Jiyong dig around in his orange pants and pull a fucking tape recorder of all things out of a pocket that seems far too small for it. "What the hell do you want me to say?"
"Anything you want," he says mildly, flopping down next to him, legs splayed out across the bedclothes. "What you felt about last night, how much you wanted to fuck me, what happened-et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum."
Seunghyun rubs his face and exhales. "Why?"
"I told you already, though you may have been too wasted at the time to process it," comes the sardonic reply. Jiyong stretches a thin arm out, holds the recorder up to Seunghyun's mouth and grins. "Art project."
"Your art project is to record me talking about sex?" Seunghyun asks doubtfully.
"Yep."
"And people are going to listen to it? To someone talking about two dudes-you know. Fucking."
Jiyong pretends to think about it for a second, fingers tapping the edge of his chin. "If you make the cut, yeah."
"Right," Seunghyun mutters-and then, a beat later: "You're a demanding motherfucker, you know that?"
"So they tell me." He smiles and hits the bright red record button.
"Wait, hold on-" but it's too late, the tape's already whirring merrily along. Seunghyun sighs and runs a hand through his hair, chews on his lip for a second. "Jesus. I-um, I don't know-I can't even remember anything, what do you expect me to-"
"Just relax," Jiyong says. "Start from the beginning."
"The beginning?"
"Stop stalling," he snaps, rolling over and balancing his arms on Seunghyun's drawn-up knees. "Start from when you first saw me at the club. Go. Talk."
"Alright," Seunghyun says, frowning and trying to remember. "I was at the bar, I looked over and Hyuksoo was mixing a drink for the girl you were with. And I saw you and I remember thinking that-I thought you were out of my league, or whatever-"
Jiyong sits back, cross-legged. "What league are you in, then?"
Seunghyun lets out a quick huff of laughter. "Not yours, okay?"
He just raises an eyebrow.
"I don't really play sports," Seunghyun hedges, "so-sidelines, maybe?"
"I don't think you believe that for a minute," Jiyong says shrewdly. "But, moving on: then you followed me into the bathroom and tried to chat me up. Creative, that move. Top marks."
"And then you left," Seunghyun supplies calmly.
"I did."
"Why?"
"You really want to know?"
Seunghyun shrugs. "Yeah."
"There was someone else I wanted," he says smoothly, "but by the time I got back out he was with some other guy."
He leans back against the headboard. "So I was your second choice."
Jiyong cocks his head to the side. "What does that matter?"
"Doesn't," Seunghyun mumbles, shifting to gaze out the window. "Well, this took a lovely turn."
Jiyong steps off the bed. "Do you hear that?"
"No," he answers automatically.
Jiyong slides the window open. Seunghyun hears something like fuck you queers float up from the first floor and closes his eyes for a moment, fist clenching in the sheets-which is when Jiyong cranes his body out and yells, "Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Seunghyun scrambles out of bed so fast his headache threatens to throb back into existence. "Stop, you'll wake the whole damn building up-"
"Leave him alone," he continues. "Fucking douchebags!"
"Fuck off," someone bellows up at him.
"Jiyong," Seunghyun says, reaching for his arm. "Just let it go, alright?"
Jiyong wriggles out of his grasp. "I swear to God, I'm gonna come down there and skullfuck you all to next Wednesday if you don't stop." He slams the window shut again, throws himself on the bed, stretches out and lets out a little whoop.
Seunghyun stares at him, incredulous. "Are you serious? What the hell was that?"
"Nothing like putting the fear of God into a couple of homophobic idiots to get your morning started," Jiyong says, pleased as hell for some reason Seunghyun cannot even begin to fathom.
"They're going to, they're gonna fucking toss bricks in through my windows, and you're over here cackling about it," he says, sinking down onto the bed and frowning at the way his toes sink into the carpet.
Jiyong waves a hand in his face. "You live twelve flights up, idiot. Nobody's going to be throwing anything through any windows. Trust me."
"I'm going to skullfuck you all to next Wednesday," Seunghyun repeats, shaking his head. "I mean, honestly."
"Okay, Mr. Nice Guy," Jiyong grumbles. "We can hold a committee and think of something a little more politically correct to yell next time, alright?" He brandishes the tape recorder again and looks at Seunghyun like he's the one who casually interrupted their conversation to curse some assholes out. "Now, can we get back to business?"
"Fine," Seunghyun says. Jiyong settles down next to him and clicks record.
"Let's skip to when we left the club. What do you remember?"
"I brought you back here-obviously," Seunghyun says slowly. "It was raining and we were wet and I dropped my keys trying to get the door open-"
"Right," Jiyong says, laughter in his voice. "So I just shoved you against the wall in the hallway and we started making out, and then I got you to take your shirt off-"
"Never would have happened if I wasn't totally plastered," Seunghyun mumbles into the tape recorder.
"What are you, some sort of prude?"
"No, I just-"
"Ashamed, are you?" Jiyong eyes Seunghyun's torso meaningfully. "No reason to be."
"Oh, thanks," Seunghyun says, because what else is he supposed to say to something like that? "Um, then, I'm not sure-"
"You picked your keys up and tried to unlock the door, and I took the opportunity to grope you."
"Why am I not surprised?"
Jiyong smirks. "I was pretty pleased to feel that you had a huge dick."
Seunghyun rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Then we fell in through the door-"
"And you knocked half the bearbricks off the shelves trying to show me where the bedroom was."
He lifts a shoulder and glances sideways down at Jiyong. "We got there in the end."
"No thanks to you," Jiyong says, but there's no heat to it. He nestles his head deeper into the pillow. "Did you wish I had a bigger cock?"
"What the hell," he says, and frowns. "No, I'm not-that's not an issue."
"Alright, I believe you," Jiyong says, pursing his lips like he's checking something off an imaginary clipboard in his head. "How about when I played with your asshole, later? Did you like that?"
"Jesus," Seunghyun says. "It was fine."
"Fine? That's it? No, come on, was it too hard, too soft-"
Seunghyun shifts back against the headboard. "Too hard, maybe."
"So why didn't you say anything?" Seunghyun shrugs. "You didn't want me to fuck you, either. Why not?"
"No, I didn't. I don't-"
Jiyong props his head up on one arm. "Did you refuse because it would have made you feel too gay?"
"Jiyong-"
"For that matter, are you actually even out?"
"Yes," Seunghyun says, but it sounds tired even to him.
Jiyong gazes at him for a minute. "Are you sure about that?"
Seunghyun grabs his waving wrist and stares the blinking red recording light down. "I just thought we were having a really nice time, and it was more than enough for me." Jiyong's expression is unreadable. Seunghyun's thumb presses down over his, and there's a quiet click as the onward whizzing of the tape cuts off. "So. Hope I made the cut."
Surprisingly, Jiyong's the one who asks to exchange numbers when Seunghyun has to leave for work. "I'll have to contact you if I use you in the art project, dumbass," he says by way of explanation, and Seunghyun programs his digits into Jiyong's sleek Samsung Galaxy like a toddler with a typewriter.
"Is that alright?"
Jiyong tosses Seunghyun's shitty flip phone back and peers at his own screen. "Yeah, that's fine." Yesterday's shirt swallows him up and a couple flakes of dried eyeliner come off on his index finger when he rubs his eyes.
For a second, a certain look crosses Jiyong's face, like he's going to lean in through Seunghyun's doorway and kiss him-but some girl who spent the night down the hall is coming out to stand by the elevator with Yeontack, their hands clasped together and a besotted look on his neighbor's face, and Seunghyun rears back a little.
Jiyong smiles knowingly and spares one last glance at the dolls still littered on the floor next to the bathroom. "It was really nice to meet you," he says, very dry, clasping Seunghyun's loose hand and giving it a shake, "and you have a lovely home."
Seunghyun watches him disappear down the street from the twelfth floor window before pulling his laptop out and collapsing back into bed. He glares at the little blinking cursor next to Jiyong, twenty-three, wills the sloshing mess of his brain to vomit something out into the Word document. Nothing comes.
Nine stops up Line 6 get him to work by ten. The pool's full of people when he punches in. Hyunjoong and Jaejoong are already doing their rounds, and there are kids splashing in the shallow end and divers letting fly off the springboards like they want to sail right through the ceiling.
His phone feels like it's burning a hole through his pants the entire morning. At lunch, he fumbles with the keypad and fires off a quick i feel like shit :( and shoves it back in his pocket. He roots an expired cup of shrimp-flavored ramen out from one of the cabinets in the staff lounge and dumps some lukewarm water into the cup.
that's what u get for drinking ur ass into the ground, Jiyong replies a minute later. Then, less grudging, do u need someone to bring u painkillers or some shit?
i'll live, Seunghyun types, grinning. but hey, i appreciate the thought.
Yoochun catches the look on his face and does a double take. "Oh, shit," he says, nudging Jaejoong. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Seunghyunnie?"
Seunghyun swallows a mouthful of noodle. "I'm okay, thanks."
"I think our boy got laid," Yoochun continues, waggling his eyebrows with relish.
"It's not like that," Seunghyun protests, shrugging it off. Yoochun seems unconvinced, but Jaejoong changes the subject and manages to wheedle a promise to go clubbing with them soon out of Seunghyun.
Hyunjoong spends the rest of their lunch break talking about some chick he picked up two nights ago. While everyone's paying attention to the obscene details of his story, Seunghyun messages him i get off at three if u wanna stop by, before he can psych himself out of sending it at all. Something in his chest lurches unsettlingly when Jiyong asks Seunghyun to text him the address.
He changes into a pair of dark jeans and a teal sweatshirt when his shift is over, stuffs his wrinkled lifeguard shirt into his backpack and shoulders it on. Jiyong's waiting for him at the subway station down the block, hair damp and face freshly scrubbed.
"Hey," Seunghyun says.
"Hello," Jiyong replies, tossing him a Gatorade. "Electrolytes. Drink up."
"Thanks." He twists the cap off and takes a huge gulp.
"Also, aspirin."
Seunghyun takes the pill out of his outstretched hand and downs them obediently with another swig of Gatorade. He leans against the sidewalk railing as the pounding in his head eases back and watches Jiyong roll a clove cigarette, blow gusts of white into the air.
"So," Jiyong says. "Lifeguard, huh?"
"Yeah," Seunghyun replies, playing with the empty bottle in his hands. "I was pretty fat as a kid, but then I started swimming for school. It seemed like a natural progression."
Jiyong nods, glancing at him askance. "Have you saved anyone's life before?"
"Sure," he says comfortably.
"Really?"
"I've been a lifeguard for years," Seunghyun says drily. "What d'you think I do, just sit there and watch people drown?"
"Well, no-"
"It's mostly old people, and children. A friend I met in college-Taehwan-came to visit once and saved someone before I could even get in the water. But then, he's an Olympic swimmer, so I can't really compete."
Jiyong stubs out his cigarette and sends him a disbelieving look. "You're friends with Park Taehwan?"
"Yep," Seunghyun says solemnly. A beat later: "Where do you work again? Sorry, I can't remember-"
"Arario."
"Ah, right, one of the galleries in Sogyeok."
"Have you ever been?"
"No, actually. I've never been to an art gallery. I think I went to a museum, once."
Jiyong laughs. "Do you like art?"
Seunghyun taps his fingers against the railing. "Yeah, sure, I do."
"It's alright if you don't, you know. You don't have to pretend to-"
Seunghyun snorts. "Just because I've never been to one of your fancy galleries doesn't mean I don't like art."
"Could've fooled me," Jiyong returns snippily, but Seunghyun can see the corner of his mouth inching up.
"Don't be offended," Seunghyun says, grinning. "Come on, let's go. It's getting hot out here."
The subway's uncharacteristically crowded for early Saturday afternoon-they get squished into a corner of one of the cars by the crush of people and Seunghyun starts laughing when Jiyong looks up and knocks his chin against Seunghyun's shoulder. He stops laughing around the time Jiyong turns and his elbow gets caught deep in Seunghyun's gut.
"Fucking oof," Seunghyun says, trying to catch his breath. "You totally did that on purpose."
Jiyong smiles, completely unrepentant. "What are you gonna do about it?" Seunghyun just wrinkles his nose, props himself back against the wall, arm braced over Jiyong's head, and watches the next stop breeze by.
"You hungry?" he asks as they walk out of the subway station. Jiyong makes a noncommittal noise. "Well, I'm fucking starving, so feel free to chime in if you want anything."
They pick up greasy boxes of odeng and kimbap and half a dozen different meats on a stick that Jiyong sneakily steals bites of when he thinks Seunghyun isn't paying attention.
Seunghyun nearly trips over one of the bearbricks still on lying on the floor when they back to the apartment. "Jesus," he says, putting the food down on the coffee table. "Look, I need to pick these up so we don't die trying to walk across the room. There are plates and utensils in the kitchen, can you get those?"
"Yeah," Jiyong says. He toes his shoes off and disappears into the kitchen. "Which cabinet?"
"Chopsticks are to the right of the stove," Seunghyun yells. "Two drawers down. Plates are in the cabinet above the coffeemaker, and there's kimchi in the fridge."
The food's still hot when they dig in, and Jiyong's unearthed two beers from the refrigerator that Seunghyun doesn't even remember buying.
"So-the tape from this morning," Seunghyun says around a mouthful of rice and gochujang. "You said it was for an art project, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jiyong agrees.
"So is that what you want to be? An artist?"
Jiyong considers him for a moment, chopsticks poised over the food. "I can tell you don't want some half-assed answer like everyone's an artist, everyone can be an artist if they want to be one."
"No," Seunghyun says, amused.
"Well-yes. Yes, I'd like to be an artist."
"And those tapes-" He chews thoughtfully on a piece of dukbokki. "Sorry if this offends, but I just don't see how people would be interested in hearing about the sex lives of random strangers."
"Really?"
"Really. Unless it was like, porn, you know? Which you can't actually exhibit in a public space without breaking the law."
Jiyong rolls his eyes. "You just don't want people listening to you talk about your sex life."
"Of course I don't," he replies promptly. "But that's irrelevant. How can you say-here, this is art, when it's really just listening to people talking dirty?"
"You think speaking candidly about sex is dirty?"
Seunghyun brandishes his meat on a stick. "You know what I mean."
"No, come on," Jiyong presses. "Don't you think it would be healthier for people to be open about what they did? Hiding in dark corners just makes everything seem inherently wrong."
"But people are open about their sex lives," Seunghyun says. "Today at work, one of my coworkers was going on about his latest conquest all through our lunch break."
"Ah," Jiyong says, shifting on the sofa. "But he isn't gay, is he?"
"No," Seunghyun admits. "He isn't."
"Gay people," Jiyong says, with an air of someone imparting divine tragedy, "never talk about sex in public. And anyway," he continues, tossing his head, "the tapes aren't really about sex at all."
"No?" Seunghyun asks, voice wry. "What are they about, then?"
Jiyong opens his mouth and, for the first time since Seunghyun's met him, looks almost uncertain. "I'm going to sound like a pretentious asshole."
"You already do, so no loss," Seunghyun murmurs, and Jiyong kicks at his leg. He laughs at the pinched expression on Jiyong's face. "Sorry, sorry. Look, I really do want to know. I'm interested."
"Alright," Jiyong says, squinting into his congealing gochujang. "It's like-well, you know how you feel when you first sleep with someone you don't know?" Seunghyun nods. "Like-like you're a blank canvas, and you can project who you want yourself to be onto that canvas for the person to see. That's the interesting part, because everyone does it. Even me."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. And what happens is that while you're projecting who you want to be onto that blank slate, a gap forms between who you want to be and who you actually are." Jiyong smiles. "And in that gap, it shows you what's stopping you from becoming who you really want to be. The obstacles, the barriers, the backwards thinking-everything."
"And all that from talking about sex?"
Jiyong chuckles. "All that from talking about sex."
Seunghyun whistles. "That's-I like it. I'm not sure if I-totally understand-"
"It sounds a lot better in my head," Jiyong says, all in a rush.
"No, Jiyong, this is really interesting. So how are you going to present it? Are you just going to play the tapes, or-"
"I don't know," Jiyong says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That's an issue. And-no one's going to come see the exhibit anyway because-" he laughs, low and self-deprecating, "it's about gay sex. See, gay people will only come because they want a glimpse of a cock, and they'll be disappointed. And straight people-they have their straight people lives, and gay sex doesn't even factor into that equation."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be stupid, Seunghyun," he says, frowning. "They'll go see artistic renderings of war, or murder, or death-but gay sex? No one cares."
"Fuck that-I'd come see it," Seunghyun blurts out, and Jiyong laughs again, louder.
"No, you wouldn't."
"I would!" Jiyong raises his eyebrows and Seunghyun bites down on the last piece of odeng in the box, thinks it over properly. "Yeah, fine," he admits. "You're right. I probably wouldn't."
Jiyong helps him put the dirty plates in the sink and ties the trash bag up before settling back down on the couch. He digs something out the pocket of his blazer and holds it up.
"Weed?" Seunghyun says, staring at the bowl in Jiyong's hand. "Are you serious?"
Jiyong just grins and pulls his lighter out. "May I?"
"Oh, so polite," he says, feigning surprise. "Sure, do what you want."
"Care to join me?" Jiyong asks a moment later through the haze of smoke.
Seunghyun takes the proffered bowl dubiously.
"Put your thumb here, over the carb. Breathe in when I light it, alright?"
He nods and takes the hit, holds it in for as long as he can before half-coughing, half-exhaling it out.
Passage of time goes a little wonky for a bit, and after the weed's all gone Jiyong goes to town on an old candy bar he finds above the chopstick drawer. Seunghyun's half lying on the couch, feet propped up against the coffee table. "I like your stuff," Jiyong says suddenly, gesturing jerkily at the dolls lining the walls of the living room.
"I like collecting shit," Seunghyun explains, scratching the back of his head. "I'm kind of a hoarder."
"Aren't bearbricks expensive?"
"Yeah, I guess," he replies. "But who else am I supposed to spend my money on?"
"Don't you have a family?"
Seunghyun turns his face into the scratchy wool of the sofa. "Not really."
Jiyong sits up. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know who my parents are. Foster kid."
Jiyong reaches out and his hand lands on Seunghyun's arm with a thud. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry."
"It is what it is," Seunghyun says, lifting his shoulders. "I grew up in the system. That's all."
He thinks for a moment, chewing on his lip. "So you never had anyone to come out to, huh?"
"I guess you could put it that way." Seunghyun peers at him. "Are you out to your family?"
"Yeah," Jiyong says. "My sister kind of always knew, but I came out to my parents when I was sixteen."
"Jesus. Did they go ballistic?"
"Oh, yeah," Jiyong says, making a face. "They were pissed, but I told them-nature or nurture, it's your fault either way, so you'll just have to live with it. And Dami backed me up."
Seunghyun laughs. "Supportive."
"Yeah. But-enough about me," Jiyong says, eyes sharpening through the high. "How was, you know, the system?"
"It was fine," Seunghyun replies, blinking. "I met my best friend Daesung when I was twelve and we kind of got sent around to different foster homes together."
"Does he know? About you?"
"Yeah, of course. We're like brothers, really. Most of my close friends know." Not that there are many of them rings out unspoken in the silence.
Jiyong keeps staring at him, hand still curled around Seunghyun's upper arm.
"What?"
He pitches forward and buries his face in Seunghyun's shirt, shaking a little with glee. "Is it bad that I kind of find the orphan thing hot? Just a tad?"
"Oh my God," Seunghyun says, shoving at his bony shoulder. "You can't be-what the hell is wrong with you?"
Jiyong is wheezing now, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I keep seeing this image of you all forlorn, like Oliver Twist in a tiny page boy hat and britches-oh God, I'm sorry, I'm a terrible person."
"You are," Seunghyun agrees, trying to stop himself from snickering too. "Forget my past, I don't want to know what traumatic event happened to you as a child."
Which is all just hot air, really, because a lapful of Jiyong is still a lapful of Jiyong. Seunghyun doesn't protest when the shirts come off and a hand reaches into his pants, Jiyong's mouth nipping a trail of kisses down the arc of his chest. "Fuck," Jiyong says as he pulls Seunghyun's boxers down. Seunghyun replies with something stupid like I concur and Jiyong laughs thickly into his navel.
"Tickles," he mumbles-but then Jiyong's kneeling down on the carpet between Seunghyun's legs and his mouth's following his hand, wet and sloppy, and Seunghyun can barely breathe, let alone speak.
Jiyong flicks his gaze up, mouth hollowed around his dick, fingers rubbing smooth circles into his thighs. Seunghyun swallows around the whine rising up in his throat and his hands thread through Jiyong's hair, slow and insistent. There's the light tease of a palm across Seunghyun's balls and Jiyong keeps pushing forward, choking when the head of Seunghyun's erection hits the back of his throat-and then he's coming, a strangled groan catching in his chest as his eyes go wide, Jiyong's arms clenching around his legs like he's the only thing still keeping Seunghyun anchored.
They clean up in the bathroom. Jiyong perches on the counter after he rinses his mouth out and flicks water in Seunghyun's face. Seunghyun gets a good look at his tattoos for the first time, gothic lettering sloping up the arc of his back and across his forearms.
"English," he says intelligently, reaching a hand out to touch the one on his right arm. "What do they mean?"
Jiyong twists around to stare at himself in the mirror. "This one says too fast to live, too young to die, which is self-explanatory, I think," he says drily. "Vita dolce means sweet life in Italian, and moderato is a musical cue-everything in moderation, or whatever." He shrugs, glances up at Seunghyun with that uncertain look in his eyes again. "I may or may not have been really drunk when I got them done-"
"No," Seunghyun cuts in, rubbing a thumb over the sharp d in dolce. "I like them."
"Do you travel much?" he blurts out in the hallway as he shrugs his thin red blazer back on. "Have you been to America before?"
"No," Seunghyun says, brow furrowing. "I've never been out of Korea, actually. I'd like to go someday, I suppose."
"Right," Jiyong says, a strange expression flitting over his face. "I'll take you to Vegas."
Seunghyun opens the front door and Jiyong steps out, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Well. Thank you for stopping by. It was-really lovely."
Jiyong's lips turn up. "I'll, um, I'll give you a call later."
"Yeah."
When Jiyong leans up to kiss him, Seunghyun lets it happen, lets the tongue flick into his mouth twice before pulling away. "I'll call you."
Jiyong pulls the door shut and Seunghyun rests his forehead against the smooth plywood. He's about to push off and go start the kettle for tea when there's a loud knock.
Jiyong's still fidgeting on the other side, foot jiggling, hands braced against the frame.
"Hello again," Seunghyun says, bemused.
"Hi," he says, looking straight ahead at a spot beyond Seunghyun's left shoulder. "Listen, there's something I didn't tell you, that I should've, but then we were-"
"What is it?" Seunghyun interrupts, stomach sinking. "Ah-you've got a boyfriend already, is that it? Of course you do, why wouldn't you-"
"Don't be absurd," Jiyong snaps. "That's not it. Anyway, I don't do boyfriends."
"Right," Seunghyun says. He exhales slowly. "What is it, then?"
"I'm going away tomorrow," Jiyong says, so fast that it all bleeds together into one long word.
"Oh." He blinks. "That's great, where to?"
"New York City," he says. "It's in New York."
Seunghyun looks down and laughs. "Yeah, I know. How long will you be gone?"
"Two years," Jiyong says, smiling a little when Seunghyun's head snaps up. "Maybe more. It depends."
"Oh," Seunghyun says, and swallows shallowly. "I see. I thought you meant just for vacation, or something."
"No, I'm doing this course at a university there." He twists his neck and kicks at the floor. "Contemporary Perspectives of Modern Art in the Twenty-First Century."
"Wait, so you're going to art school," he says. He props himself against the door. "That's amazing, Jiyong-"
"I should've told you before," Jiyong says, voice cracking on the last word.
"You didn't have to," Seunghyun insists. "No, it's fine. That's really great, congratulations."
"Everything's always fine with you," Jiyong says, staring up at him. He pushes off the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets again. "Look, I'll call you, okay?"
The door's almost shut when Jiyong does another double take and barrels in, so close they're breathing the same air and Seunghyun goes a bit cross-eyed trying to look at him. "Look-are you doing anything tonight? I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize, it's-fine. No, I haven't got any plans-"
"Good, because I'm going for some drinks with my friends, as a kind of going away thing and-" Jiyong's bouncing on his toes, hands skimming over Seunghyun's shirt and neck and the edge of his jaw, "I was wondering if you'd like to come, maybe? It would be really cool if you could come, but it's up to you, I wouldn't be mad if you didn't show up, I mean-you didn't even know I was leaving a second ago." He sucks in a breath of air and tilts back on his heels. "I'll text you. I'll text you when and where and you can show up if you like and if not then that's fine too. Does that sound good? Okay."
"Okay."
Jiyong's grip tightens around Seunghyun's arms. "Ask me to stay."
"Alright-um, stay," Seunghyun says, bewildered.
"I can't," he exhales, after a long moment.
"Yeah," Seunghyun says, wrapping a hand around Jiyong's wrist. "I know."
And before he can say anything else, Jiyong's off like a firecracker, the slam of the door echoing loud in his ears.
He watches the bob of red hair weaving down the street from the window. Jiyong looks back a couple of times and probably sees him through the curtains, but Seunghyun can't really bring himself to care enough to stop staring.
> > > PART 2 > > >
Pairings: gtop
Rating: nc17
Genre: romance, au
Warnings: swearing, sex, anti-queer bigotry, recreational drug use
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: weekend au. seunghyun meets jiyong at a gay bar in itaewon and things spiral out from there. previous viewing of the film isn't necessary (but you should watch it anyway because it's fantastic)! 12,600 words.
Seunghyun takes the 421 down to Hannam, trundles past Itaewon's glittering lights, the FamilyMart at the sharp turn, and the one 7-Eleven right on the river where the lady at the cash register gives him discounts on the dukbokki every Tuesday. The sun's just dipped below the horizon by the time he disembarks, and the cicadas are out in full force, chirping their cacophonous symphony from the trees.
He walks the rest of the way, hands jammed in his pockets, earphones slung loose around his neck. There are dim shapes moving behind the sheer curtains as he trudges up the sidewalk to Daesung's house, and two overturned toy cars lie forgotten in the driveway-Harang's, probably. Seunghyun scoops them up and runs his thumb down the wooden veneer of the front door before rapping twice.
A deluge of noise spills out as the door swings open: the slick-quick squeak of hinges, Dongwook's voice and Bom's laugh, loud cracks of party poppers and plates clinking in the kitchen and an exasperated plea from Daesung for Jeesoo to please-for the love of God, you aren't a monkey, will you please stop swinging from the lamp?
"You came!" Hyori says over the racket, delighted, and accepts the proffered Hot Wheels with much aplomb.
"Of course I did, o ye of little faith," Seunghyun scoffs. He flicks his fingers through the bit of fringe sticking out from under his hat. "Sorry about being late. I got caught in traffic."
"It's fine, we've only just gotten started," she says, eyes crinkling at the corners. She ushers Seunghyun in through the doorway, holds him at arm's length for a moment. "Hey. It's really good to see you."
Seunghyun leans obligingly into the hug that comes next. Hyori's other arm loops around to clasp his neck and her head tucks itself where his neck and shoulder meet. "Yeah. Yeah, you too."
"Come on, then," she says, clapping him on the back. "I'll get you a beer."
The floor lamp's looking rather worse for wear when Seunghyun strolls into the living room, but Jeesoo seems to have finally settled down next to Haeum and Harang. All three of them are glued to the television, wide-eyed and quiet, watching Doraemon. Daesung catches his eye and sends him a beleaguered expression to which Seunghyun can only grin in reply.
Bom comes in from the kitchen with porcelain plates and elbows him in the stomach, sticking her tongue out. "You're late, jerk."
Seunghyun puts on what he hopes is a suitably contrite expression. "Sorry, noona."
"I'm so sure," she says, rolling her eyes. "Go pass the plates out and reflect on your crimes."
The Doraemon episode ends by the time the food's ready and the kids are sleepily falling over each other. Daesung ushers them up to bed and returns armed with two large bowls of rice and several more beers. Hyori pulls in chairs from the bedroom. Sean hands him a chipped pair of chopsticks.
The table's piled high with beef bulgogi and spicy samgyupsal and a truly terrifying amount of kimchi. Hanbyul starts talking about autumn wedding plans and Dongwook segues into the bachelor party. Seunghyun nods and smiles to the rhythm of the conversation, chuckles when Bom says something cheeky about the idea of hiring a high-end stripper. It's always been easy to slip back into this, comfortable like a hand fitting into an old glove.
"It's a great idea," Kyungil says defensively. "Right, Seunghyun?"
Seunghyun gazes vaguely into the middle distance and sticks a piece of beef into his mouth. Bom's giggling into his shoulder. "Sure, strippers are nice."
Dongwook grins at him. "Damn straight."
"Fine!" Hyori says with a tone of finality, crossing her arms. "We'll get Hanbyul a stripper too!"
"Oh, God," Hyeyoung says, folding her head into her hands.
Bom flicks a peanut at her. "Come on, unnie. Haven't you seen Magic Mike?"
Daesung finds him after dinner and breaks out the soju, a knowing look on his face. "Thanks," Seunghyun says, and downs the shot he's handed in one gulp.
"Only the best for you," Daesung says, sipping on his own. A pause, and then: "You're coming on Sunday, aren't you?"
Seunghyun sends him an insulted look. "You're joking, right? You know Jeesoo would probably kill me with if I didn't make it. Plus, I got her the greatest gift." He waggles his eyebrows.
"God, of course you did," he replies, the corner of his mouth curling up. "You spoil her, you know. It's not right. You make us look bad."
Seunghyun smiles. "Isn't that what are godfathers for?"
"You kind of dropped off the grid for a little bit there," Daesung says after his third shot, their hands bumping together companionably. "Anything happen? Work stuff?" He nudges Seunghyun's shoulder. "Did you find someone?"
Seunghyun thinks about the steady string of one-night stands he's been indulging in all summer and half-nods. "Got a promotion," he says.
"Hey, moving up in the world," Daesung exclaims-which, of course, calls for another two rounds at the very least.
Seunghyun takes his leave at nine, citing work in the morning. Hyori squeezes his arm and Daesung envelops him in a hug. "See you on Sunday, alright?"
He salutes from the porch, tucks his hat back on. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
It's raining when he ducks into the bus, big droplets splashing against the windows and obscuring everything with their hazy concavity. The soju's worked up a pleasant buzz in his head, which is maybe why he gets off three stops early instead of going straight home, traces familiar steps to Hive.
Some house remix of a Korean pop song floats up from the narrow stairwell. Seunghyun flicks the bouncer a couple of bills and makes a beeline straight for the bar.
Perry isn't DJ-ing tonight-someone Seunghyun doesn't recognize is at the mixer spinning beats-but Hyuksoo's just finished making drinks for a group of foreigners. He takes one look at Seunghyun and mixes him something more vodka than not, slides it over the linoleum. Seunghyun mimes a thank you and takes a large gulp, strobe lights streaking colors through the glass.
He shuffles along the edges of the gyrating dancers before giving up and going back to the bar, bobbing his head to the low thrum of bass. A blur of motion at the other end of the bar catches his eye and materializes into a pair of dark, kohl-rimmed eyes and a shock of bright red hair. He's at least a full head shorter than Seunghyun is, and his smile's tinged with something sharp and wicked. When he leans in close to speak to the girl he's with, the overlarge shirt he's wearing slips a little to reveal the smooth curve of clavicle.
Seunghyun ends up following him to the bathroom, casts him sidelong glances beneath the flickering fluorescent tube above the urinals. His eyeliner's smudged and his skinny jeans are a violent shade of orange. Seunghyun swallows when the kid zips back up and meets his gaze dead on, looks him up and down appraisingly before sauntering out the door. Seunghyun's left with another skinny slip of a guy, who's all wide eyes and saccharine smiles and latches on to Seunghyun with all the force and suction of a jellyfish.
Seungri, he breathes by way of introduction into Seunghyun's ear, and tugs him onto the dance floor. The music's pounding loud in his ears, and it occurs to him through his alcohol-soaked daze that there's something so simple about being able to fall into the mad crush of people, and not have to think about anything else but the solid line of someone's torso pressed against his.
That is, of course, until he sees a scowling face and rather intimidating set of biceps turned toward them from the bar. A minute later, the redhead gets up from his booth and pulls Seunghyun away. Seungri smacks a kiss on Seunghyun's cheek and mumbles something like God, Jiyong always steals the good ones before letting him go, melting back into the faceless crowd.
"Hi," Seunghyun says, blinking down at him.
"Hey," Jiyong returns. He plays with the spikes in his ears, grins that sharp half-grin again. "Sorry about Seungri."
"Nah, he was-nice," Seunghyun says with a mostly straight face.
"A bit too nice," Jiyong agrees, thumbing the rim of his cocktail glass, "but that's just him." He tilts his head to the side and looks up through his lashes. "So, are you going to take me home or are you just going to stand there fucking staring at me all night?"
It's still raining hard when they get out onto the street, and yet somehow they make it back to Seunghyun's apartment without any major occurrences of bodily injury. Jiyong has a lit cigarette balanced between his fingers-he stubs it out to peel his shirt off, pupils blown wide, and leans up to press a kiss into the corner of Seunghyun's mouth.
"Missed," he mutters, laughing. "Sorry."
"If at first you don't succeed-" Seunghyun begins wryly, too drunk for the cliché to deter as it slips out of his mouth, but he doesn't get a chance to finish before Jiyong's shoving him into bed, lips warm and wet and everywhere-and then it's just a blur of skin on skin: impressions of a tongue tracing his abdomen and the column of his throat and the crease of his leg where it meets his hip, hands pulling at the erection Seunghyun should be far too drunk to have, a mouth sucking bruises into his collarbone.
In the morning it feels like something's trying to break out of his head with a goddamn battering ram. His mouth's so woolly that he can barely open it.
He slides out of bed and drags himself into the bathroom. Yesterday's shirt is hooked over the handle of the sink for some reason and he yanks it on, splashes water in his face and halfheartedly brushes his teeth, gargles some mouthwash. He sits on the closed toilet seat for a while, waiting for the urge to clutch the bowl and hurl into the water at the bottom of the basin to pass.
He moves to the kitchenette and puts a pot of coffee on when he hears faint stirring from the bedroom. He winces at the light streaming in through the window and tries (fails) to locate his dusty bottle of aspirin. He waits for the timer to ping, pours a generous amount of milk and sugar into both mugs when the coffee's done and pads back to the room.
Jiyong is peering at his own fringe in the mirror across from the bed, still unabashedly naked. Seunghyun leans on the doorframe and stares at the planes Jiyong's back curving down into the smooth expanse of his ass, and the huge hickey above the edge of his hipbone that Seunghyun can just see, partially hidden by the way Jiyong's inclined against the desk. The previous night comes back to him in snatches: eyes half-lidded in the dark, the full weight of Jiyong's dick in his hand, Seunghyun's teeth catching on the lobes of his ears. Jesus Christ.
The object of his study turns, earrings swinging. His smile's softer around the edges, muddled from sleep, and his hair is tousled enough in the muted light of day that Seunghyun can see the roots starting to grow out.
"Well," he croaks, gazing meaningfully at the extra cup in Seunghyun's hand. "Are you going to give me that coffee?"
"Right, of course," Seunghyun says, flustered despite himself. He takes a gulp of his own and hands the other to Jiyong, who thanks him, sips primly, and manages to climb back under the covers without spilling a drop.
"When d'you have work?"
"Eleven," he says thickly, tongue burning.
"Oh, it's way too early for that," Jiyong scoffs, patting the empty space beside him. "Come back to bed."
Seunghyun processes this. Jiyong raises his eyebrows, as if to say Really? This is the thing you're choosing to overanalyze? "Alright," he breathes, and clambers in, back sinking into the pillows.
"You were pretty far gone, last night," Jiyong says around the rim of his cup, and waves Seunghyun's apology away. "Nah, I just had to do a bit of damage control, you know. Unglue you from Seungri so that Youngbae wouldn't come over and rough you up a bit." Jiyong chuckles. "He's normally the sweetest guy ever, but get a couple in him and everything goes topsy-turvy."
"Angry drunk?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
Seunghyun shrugs. "And I suppose Seungri's the clingy drunk."
"Yeah-like I said, sorry about him," Jiyong says, waving a hand. "He's always like that when we go somewhere new."
"Aw, he wasn't so bad. Sweet, really."
Jiyong's eyebrows go so high they disappear behind his bangs. "You go for guys like him? I don't know if I should feel insulted or-"
The dry look he sends Jiyong cuts him off.
Jiyong's eyes narrow, and then a second later his brow furrows and he sticks a finger under Seunghyun's nose.
"What?" Seunghyun asks. "Is there something on my face?"
"I smell toothpaste," he accuses, poking Seunghyun's chest. "You brushed your teeth, you asshole."
"And?"
Jiyong sets his empty cup down on the bedside table and makes a face, rolls out of bed. "And, he asks, completely unaware of the fact that he's broken the cardinal rule of any sexual encounter. See, now you smell all minty fresh, while I reek of cock and dried sweat and the worst morning breath in the world."
"You can use my toothbrush, if you like," Seunghyun replies blandly.
Jiyong's mouth twitches at the deliberate attempt to derail the conversation. He bends down to pick his boxer briefs off the floor, slides them on in one smooth motion. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'd rather get what you promised me."
Seunghyun blinks, tilts his head to the side. "What?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten."
He picks through the ruins of the previous night and vaguely recalls something. "Really? I didn't think you were serious."
"Why did you think I slept with you?" Jiyong points out, hands poised on his hips, and Seunghyun can't even dredge up the energy to take offense when Jiyong's looking at him like that, eyes gleaming with something too sharp to be amusement.
"I'm not going to do it," Seunghyn protests feebly. He watches Jiyong dig around in his orange pants and pull a fucking tape recorder of all things out of a pocket that seems far too small for it. "What the hell do you want me to say?"
"Anything you want," he says mildly, flopping down next to him, legs splayed out across the bedclothes. "What you felt about last night, how much you wanted to fuck me, what happened-et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum."
Seunghyun rubs his face and exhales. "Why?"
"I told you already, though you may have been too wasted at the time to process it," comes the sardonic reply. Jiyong stretches a thin arm out, holds the recorder up to Seunghyun's mouth and grins. "Art project."
"Your art project is to record me talking about sex?" Seunghyun asks doubtfully.
"Yep."
"And people are going to listen to it? To someone talking about two dudes-you know. Fucking."
Jiyong pretends to think about it for a second, fingers tapping the edge of his chin. "If you make the cut, yeah."
"Right," Seunghyun mutters-and then, a beat later: "You're a demanding motherfucker, you know that?"
"So they tell me." He smiles and hits the bright red record button.
"Wait, hold on-" but it's too late, the tape's already whirring merrily along. Seunghyun sighs and runs a hand through his hair, chews on his lip for a second. "Jesus. I-um, I don't know-I can't even remember anything, what do you expect me to-"
"Just relax," Jiyong says. "Start from the beginning."
"The beginning?"
"Stop stalling," he snaps, rolling over and balancing his arms on Seunghyun's drawn-up knees. "Start from when you first saw me at the club. Go. Talk."
"Alright," Seunghyun says, frowning and trying to remember. "I was at the bar, I looked over and Hyuksoo was mixing a drink for the girl you were with. And I saw you and I remember thinking that-I thought you were out of my league, or whatever-"
Jiyong sits back, cross-legged. "What league are you in, then?"
Seunghyun lets out a quick huff of laughter. "Not yours, okay?"
He just raises an eyebrow.
"I don't really play sports," Seunghyun hedges, "so-sidelines, maybe?"
"I don't think you believe that for a minute," Jiyong says shrewdly. "But, moving on: then you followed me into the bathroom and tried to chat me up. Creative, that move. Top marks."
"And then you left," Seunghyun supplies calmly.
"I did."
"Why?"
"You really want to know?"
Seunghyun shrugs. "Yeah."
"There was someone else I wanted," he says smoothly, "but by the time I got back out he was with some other guy."
He leans back against the headboard. "So I was your second choice."
Jiyong cocks his head to the side. "What does that matter?"
"Doesn't," Seunghyun mumbles, shifting to gaze out the window. "Well, this took a lovely turn."
Jiyong steps off the bed. "Do you hear that?"
"No," he answers automatically.
Jiyong slides the window open. Seunghyun hears something like fuck you queers float up from the first floor and closes his eyes for a moment, fist clenching in the sheets-which is when Jiyong cranes his body out and yells, "Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Seunghyun scrambles out of bed so fast his headache threatens to throb back into existence. "Stop, you'll wake the whole damn building up-"
"Leave him alone," he continues. "Fucking douchebags!"
"Fuck off," someone bellows up at him.
"Jiyong," Seunghyun says, reaching for his arm. "Just let it go, alright?"
Jiyong wriggles out of his grasp. "I swear to God, I'm gonna come down there and skullfuck you all to next Wednesday if you don't stop." He slams the window shut again, throws himself on the bed, stretches out and lets out a little whoop.
Seunghyun stares at him, incredulous. "Are you serious? What the hell was that?"
"Nothing like putting the fear of God into a couple of homophobic idiots to get your morning started," Jiyong says, pleased as hell for some reason Seunghyun cannot even begin to fathom.
"They're going to, they're gonna fucking toss bricks in through my windows, and you're over here cackling about it," he says, sinking down onto the bed and frowning at the way his toes sink into the carpet.
Jiyong waves a hand in his face. "You live twelve flights up, idiot. Nobody's going to be throwing anything through any windows. Trust me."
"I'm going to skullfuck you all to next Wednesday," Seunghyun repeats, shaking his head. "I mean, honestly."
"Okay, Mr. Nice Guy," Jiyong grumbles. "We can hold a committee and think of something a little more politically correct to yell next time, alright?" He brandishes the tape recorder again and looks at Seunghyun like he's the one who casually interrupted their conversation to curse some assholes out. "Now, can we get back to business?"
"Fine," Seunghyun says. Jiyong settles down next to him and clicks record.
"Let's skip to when we left the club. What do you remember?"
"I brought you back here-obviously," Seunghyun says slowly. "It was raining and we were wet and I dropped my keys trying to get the door open-"
"Right," Jiyong says, laughter in his voice. "So I just shoved you against the wall in the hallway and we started making out, and then I got you to take your shirt off-"
"Never would have happened if I wasn't totally plastered," Seunghyun mumbles into the tape recorder.
"What are you, some sort of prude?"
"No, I just-"
"Ashamed, are you?" Jiyong eyes Seunghyun's torso meaningfully. "No reason to be."
"Oh, thanks," Seunghyun says, because what else is he supposed to say to something like that? "Um, then, I'm not sure-"
"You picked your keys up and tried to unlock the door, and I took the opportunity to grope you."
"Why am I not surprised?"
Jiyong smirks. "I was pretty pleased to feel that you had a huge dick."
Seunghyun rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Then we fell in through the door-"
"And you knocked half the bearbricks off the shelves trying to show me where the bedroom was."
He lifts a shoulder and glances sideways down at Jiyong. "We got there in the end."
"No thanks to you," Jiyong says, but there's no heat to it. He nestles his head deeper into the pillow. "Did you wish I had a bigger cock?"
"What the hell," he says, and frowns. "No, I'm not-that's not an issue."
"Alright, I believe you," Jiyong says, pursing his lips like he's checking something off an imaginary clipboard in his head. "How about when I played with your asshole, later? Did you like that?"
"Jesus," Seunghyun says. "It was fine."
"Fine? That's it? No, come on, was it too hard, too soft-"
Seunghyun shifts back against the headboard. "Too hard, maybe."
"So why didn't you say anything?" Seunghyun shrugs. "You didn't want me to fuck you, either. Why not?"
"No, I didn't. I don't-"
Jiyong props his head up on one arm. "Did you refuse because it would have made you feel too gay?"
"Jiyong-"
"For that matter, are you actually even out?"
"Yes," Seunghyun says, but it sounds tired even to him.
Jiyong gazes at him for a minute. "Are you sure about that?"
Seunghyun grabs his waving wrist and stares the blinking red recording light down. "I just thought we were having a really nice time, and it was more than enough for me." Jiyong's expression is unreadable. Seunghyun's thumb presses down over his, and there's a quiet click as the onward whizzing of the tape cuts off. "So. Hope I made the cut."
Surprisingly, Jiyong's the one who asks to exchange numbers when Seunghyun has to leave for work. "I'll have to contact you if I use you in the art project, dumbass," he says by way of explanation, and Seunghyun programs his digits into Jiyong's sleek Samsung Galaxy like a toddler with a typewriter.
"Is that alright?"
Jiyong tosses Seunghyun's shitty flip phone back and peers at his own screen. "Yeah, that's fine." Yesterday's shirt swallows him up and a couple flakes of dried eyeliner come off on his index finger when he rubs his eyes.
For a second, a certain look crosses Jiyong's face, like he's going to lean in through Seunghyun's doorway and kiss him-but some girl who spent the night down the hall is coming out to stand by the elevator with Yeontack, their hands clasped together and a besotted look on his neighbor's face, and Seunghyun rears back a little.
Jiyong smiles knowingly and spares one last glance at the dolls still littered on the floor next to the bathroom. "It was really nice to meet you," he says, very dry, clasping Seunghyun's loose hand and giving it a shake, "and you have a lovely home."
Seunghyun watches him disappear down the street from the twelfth floor window before pulling his laptop out and collapsing back into bed. He glares at the little blinking cursor next to Jiyong, twenty-three, wills the sloshing mess of his brain to vomit something out into the Word document. Nothing comes.
Nine stops up Line 6 get him to work by ten. The pool's full of people when he punches in. Hyunjoong and Jaejoong are already doing their rounds, and there are kids splashing in the shallow end and divers letting fly off the springboards like they want to sail right through the ceiling.
His phone feels like it's burning a hole through his pants the entire morning. At lunch, he fumbles with the keypad and fires off a quick i feel like shit :( and shoves it back in his pocket. He roots an expired cup of shrimp-flavored ramen out from one of the cabinets in the staff lounge and dumps some lukewarm water into the cup.
that's what u get for drinking ur ass into the ground, Jiyong replies a minute later. Then, less grudging, do u need someone to bring u painkillers or some shit?
i'll live, Seunghyun types, grinning. but hey, i appreciate the thought.
Yoochun catches the look on his face and does a double take. "Oh, shit," he says, nudging Jaejoong. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Seunghyunnie?"
Seunghyun swallows a mouthful of noodle. "I'm okay, thanks."
"I think our boy got laid," Yoochun continues, waggling his eyebrows with relish.
"It's not like that," Seunghyun protests, shrugging it off. Yoochun seems unconvinced, but Jaejoong changes the subject and manages to wheedle a promise to go clubbing with them soon out of Seunghyun.
Hyunjoong spends the rest of their lunch break talking about some chick he picked up two nights ago. While everyone's paying attention to the obscene details of his story, Seunghyun messages him i get off at three if u wanna stop by, before he can psych himself out of sending it at all. Something in his chest lurches unsettlingly when Jiyong asks Seunghyun to text him the address.
He changes into a pair of dark jeans and a teal sweatshirt when his shift is over, stuffs his wrinkled lifeguard shirt into his backpack and shoulders it on. Jiyong's waiting for him at the subway station down the block, hair damp and face freshly scrubbed.
"Hey," Seunghyun says.
"Hello," Jiyong replies, tossing him a Gatorade. "Electrolytes. Drink up."
"Thanks." He twists the cap off and takes a huge gulp.
"Also, aspirin."
Seunghyun takes the pill out of his outstretched hand and downs them obediently with another swig of Gatorade. He leans against the sidewalk railing as the pounding in his head eases back and watches Jiyong roll a clove cigarette, blow gusts of white into the air.
"So," Jiyong says. "Lifeguard, huh?"
"Yeah," Seunghyun replies, playing with the empty bottle in his hands. "I was pretty fat as a kid, but then I started swimming for school. It seemed like a natural progression."
Jiyong nods, glancing at him askance. "Have you saved anyone's life before?"
"Sure," he says comfortably.
"Really?"
"I've been a lifeguard for years," Seunghyun says drily. "What d'you think I do, just sit there and watch people drown?"
"Well, no-"
"It's mostly old people, and children. A friend I met in college-Taehwan-came to visit once and saved someone before I could even get in the water. But then, he's an Olympic swimmer, so I can't really compete."
Jiyong stubs out his cigarette and sends him a disbelieving look. "You're friends with Park Taehwan?"
"Yep," Seunghyun says solemnly. A beat later: "Where do you work again? Sorry, I can't remember-"
"Arario."
"Ah, right, one of the galleries in Sogyeok."
"Have you ever been?"
"No, actually. I've never been to an art gallery. I think I went to a museum, once."
Jiyong laughs. "Do you like art?"
Seunghyun taps his fingers against the railing. "Yeah, sure, I do."
"It's alright if you don't, you know. You don't have to pretend to-"
Seunghyun snorts. "Just because I've never been to one of your fancy galleries doesn't mean I don't like art."
"Could've fooled me," Jiyong returns snippily, but Seunghyun can see the corner of his mouth inching up.
"Don't be offended," Seunghyun says, grinning. "Come on, let's go. It's getting hot out here."
The subway's uncharacteristically crowded for early Saturday afternoon-they get squished into a corner of one of the cars by the crush of people and Seunghyun starts laughing when Jiyong looks up and knocks his chin against Seunghyun's shoulder. He stops laughing around the time Jiyong turns and his elbow gets caught deep in Seunghyun's gut.
"Fucking oof," Seunghyun says, trying to catch his breath. "You totally did that on purpose."
Jiyong smiles, completely unrepentant. "What are you gonna do about it?" Seunghyun just wrinkles his nose, props himself back against the wall, arm braced over Jiyong's head, and watches the next stop breeze by.
"You hungry?" he asks as they walk out of the subway station. Jiyong makes a noncommittal noise. "Well, I'm fucking starving, so feel free to chime in if you want anything."
They pick up greasy boxes of odeng and kimbap and half a dozen different meats on a stick that Jiyong sneakily steals bites of when he thinks Seunghyun isn't paying attention.
Seunghyun nearly trips over one of the bearbricks still on lying on the floor when they back to the apartment. "Jesus," he says, putting the food down on the coffee table. "Look, I need to pick these up so we don't die trying to walk across the room. There are plates and utensils in the kitchen, can you get those?"
"Yeah," Jiyong says. He toes his shoes off and disappears into the kitchen. "Which cabinet?"
"Chopsticks are to the right of the stove," Seunghyun yells. "Two drawers down. Plates are in the cabinet above the coffeemaker, and there's kimchi in the fridge."
The food's still hot when they dig in, and Jiyong's unearthed two beers from the refrigerator that Seunghyun doesn't even remember buying.
"So-the tape from this morning," Seunghyun says around a mouthful of rice and gochujang. "You said it was for an art project, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jiyong agrees.
"So is that what you want to be? An artist?"
Jiyong considers him for a moment, chopsticks poised over the food. "I can tell you don't want some half-assed answer like everyone's an artist, everyone can be an artist if they want to be one."
"No," Seunghyun says, amused.
"Well-yes. Yes, I'd like to be an artist."
"And those tapes-" He chews thoughtfully on a piece of dukbokki. "Sorry if this offends, but I just don't see how people would be interested in hearing about the sex lives of random strangers."
"Really?"
"Really. Unless it was like, porn, you know? Which you can't actually exhibit in a public space without breaking the law."
Jiyong rolls his eyes. "You just don't want people listening to you talk about your sex life."
"Of course I don't," he replies promptly. "But that's irrelevant. How can you say-here, this is art, when it's really just listening to people talking dirty?"
"You think speaking candidly about sex is dirty?"
Seunghyun brandishes his meat on a stick. "You know what I mean."
"No, come on," Jiyong presses. "Don't you think it would be healthier for people to be open about what they did? Hiding in dark corners just makes everything seem inherently wrong."
"But people are open about their sex lives," Seunghyun says. "Today at work, one of my coworkers was going on about his latest conquest all through our lunch break."
"Ah," Jiyong says, shifting on the sofa. "But he isn't gay, is he?"
"No," Seunghyun admits. "He isn't."
"Gay people," Jiyong says, with an air of someone imparting divine tragedy, "never talk about sex in public. And anyway," he continues, tossing his head, "the tapes aren't really about sex at all."
"No?" Seunghyun asks, voice wry. "What are they about, then?"
Jiyong opens his mouth and, for the first time since Seunghyun's met him, looks almost uncertain. "I'm going to sound like a pretentious asshole."
"You already do, so no loss," Seunghyun murmurs, and Jiyong kicks at his leg. He laughs at the pinched expression on Jiyong's face. "Sorry, sorry. Look, I really do want to know. I'm interested."
"Alright," Jiyong says, squinting into his congealing gochujang. "It's like-well, you know how you feel when you first sleep with someone you don't know?" Seunghyun nods. "Like-like you're a blank canvas, and you can project who you want yourself to be onto that canvas for the person to see. That's the interesting part, because everyone does it. Even me."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. And what happens is that while you're projecting who you want to be onto that blank slate, a gap forms between who you want to be and who you actually are." Jiyong smiles. "And in that gap, it shows you what's stopping you from becoming who you really want to be. The obstacles, the barriers, the backwards thinking-everything."
"And all that from talking about sex?"
Jiyong chuckles. "All that from talking about sex."
Seunghyun whistles. "That's-I like it. I'm not sure if I-totally understand-"
"It sounds a lot better in my head," Jiyong says, all in a rush.
"No, Jiyong, this is really interesting. So how are you going to present it? Are you just going to play the tapes, or-"
"I don't know," Jiyong says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That's an issue. And-no one's going to come see the exhibit anyway because-" he laughs, low and self-deprecating, "it's about gay sex. See, gay people will only come because they want a glimpse of a cock, and they'll be disappointed. And straight people-they have their straight people lives, and gay sex doesn't even factor into that equation."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be stupid, Seunghyun," he says, frowning. "They'll go see artistic renderings of war, or murder, or death-but gay sex? No one cares."
"Fuck that-I'd come see it," Seunghyun blurts out, and Jiyong laughs again, louder.
"No, you wouldn't."
"I would!" Jiyong raises his eyebrows and Seunghyun bites down on the last piece of odeng in the box, thinks it over properly. "Yeah, fine," he admits. "You're right. I probably wouldn't."
Jiyong helps him put the dirty plates in the sink and ties the trash bag up before settling back down on the couch. He digs something out the pocket of his blazer and holds it up.
"Weed?" Seunghyun says, staring at the bowl in Jiyong's hand. "Are you serious?"
Jiyong just grins and pulls his lighter out. "May I?"
"Oh, so polite," he says, feigning surprise. "Sure, do what you want."
"Care to join me?" Jiyong asks a moment later through the haze of smoke.
Seunghyun takes the proffered bowl dubiously.
"Put your thumb here, over the carb. Breathe in when I light it, alright?"
He nods and takes the hit, holds it in for as long as he can before half-coughing, half-exhaling it out.
Passage of time goes a little wonky for a bit, and after the weed's all gone Jiyong goes to town on an old candy bar he finds above the chopstick drawer. Seunghyun's half lying on the couch, feet propped up against the coffee table. "I like your stuff," Jiyong says suddenly, gesturing jerkily at the dolls lining the walls of the living room.
"I like collecting shit," Seunghyun explains, scratching the back of his head. "I'm kind of a hoarder."
"Aren't bearbricks expensive?"
"Yeah, I guess," he replies. "But who else am I supposed to spend my money on?"
"Don't you have a family?"
Seunghyun turns his face into the scratchy wool of the sofa. "Not really."
Jiyong sits up. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know who my parents are. Foster kid."
Jiyong reaches out and his hand lands on Seunghyun's arm with a thud. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry."
"It is what it is," Seunghyun says, lifting his shoulders. "I grew up in the system. That's all."
He thinks for a moment, chewing on his lip. "So you never had anyone to come out to, huh?"
"I guess you could put it that way." Seunghyun peers at him. "Are you out to your family?"
"Yeah," Jiyong says. "My sister kind of always knew, but I came out to my parents when I was sixteen."
"Jesus. Did they go ballistic?"
"Oh, yeah," Jiyong says, making a face. "They were pissed, but I told them-nature or nurture, it's your fault either way, so you'll just have to live with it. And Dami backed me up."
Seunghyun laughs. "Supportive."
"Yeah. But-enough about me," Jiyong says, eyes sharpening through the high. "How was, you know, the system?"
"It was fine," Seunghyun replies, blinking. "I met my best friend Daesung when I was twelve and we kind of got sent around to different foster homes together."
"Does he know? About you?"
"Yeah, of course. We're like brothers, really. Most of my close friends know." Not that there are many of them rings out unspoken in the silence.
Jiyong keeps staring at him, hand still curled around Seunghyun's upper arm.
"What?"
He pitches forward and buries his face in Seunghyun's shirt, shaking a little with glee. "Is it bad that I kind of find the orphan thing hot? Just a tad?"
"Oh my God," Seunghyun says, shoving at his bony shoulder. "You can't be-what the hell is wrong with you?"
Jiyong is wheezing now, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I keep seeing this image of you all forlorn, like Oliver Twist in a tiny page boy hat and britches-oh God, I'm sorry, I'm a terrible person."
"You are," Seunghyun agrees, trying to stop himself from snickering too. "Forget my past, I don't want to know what traumatic event happened to you as a child."
Which is all just hot air, really, because a lapful of Jiyong is still a lapful of Jiyong. Seunghyun doesn't protest when the shirts come off and a hand reaches into his pants, Jiyong's mouth nipping a trail of kisses down the arc of his chest. "Fuck," Jiyong says as he pulls Seunghyun's boxers down. Seunghyun replies with something stupid like I concur and Jiyong laughs thickly into his navel.
"Tickles," he mumbles-but then Jiyong's kneeling down on the carpet between Seunghyun's legs and his mouth's following his hand, wet and sloppy, and Seunghyun can barely breathe, let alone speak.
Jiyong flicks his gaze up, mouth hollowed around his dick, fingers rubbing smooth circles into his thighs. Seunghyun swallows around the whine rising up in his throat and his hands thread through Jiyong's hair, slow and insistent. There's the light tease of a palm across Seunghyun's balls and Jiyong keeps pushing forward, choking when the head of Seunghyun's erection hits the back of his throat-and then he's coming, a strangled groan catching in his chest as his eyes go wide, Jiyong's arms clenching around his legs like he's the only thing still keeping Seunghyun anchored.
They clean up in the bathroom. Jiyong perches on the counter after he rinses his mouth out and flicks water in Seunghyun's face. Seunghyun gets a good look at his tattoos for the first time, gothic lettering sloping up the arc of his back and across his forearms.
"English," he says intelligently, reaching a hand out to touch the one on his right arm. "What do they mean?"
Jiyong twists around to stare at himself in the mirror. "This one says too fast to live, too young to die, which is self-explanatory, I think," he says drily. "Vita dolce means sweet life in Italian, and moderato is a musical cue-everything in moderation, or whatever." He shrugs, glances up at Seunghyun with that uncertain look in his eyes again. "I may or may not have been really drunk when I got them done-"
"No," Seunghyun cuts in, rubbing a thumb over the sharp d in dolce. "I like them."
"Do you travel much?" he blurts out in the hallway as he shrugs his thin red blazer back on. "Have you been to America before?"
"No," Seunghyun says, brow furrowing. "I've never been out of Korea, actually. I'd like to go someday, I suppose."
"Right," Jiyong says, a strange expression flitting over his face. "I'll take you to Vegas."
Seunghyun opens the front door and Jiyong steps out, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Well. Thank you for stopping by. It was-really lovely."
Jiyong's lips turn up. "I'll, um, I'll give you a call later."
"Yeah."
When Jiyong leans up to kiss him, Seunghyun lets it happen, lets the tongue flick into his mouth twice before pulling away. "I'll call you."
Jiyong pulls the door shut and Seunghyun rests his forehead against the smooth plywood. He's about to push off and go start the kettle for tea when there's a loud knock.
Jiyong's still fidgeting on the other side, foot jiggling, hands braced against the frame.
"Hello again," Seunghyun says, bemused.
"Hi," he says, looking straight ahead at a spot beyond Seunghyun's left shoulder. "Listen, there's something I didn't tell you, that I should've, but then we were-"
"What is it?" Seunghyun interrupts, stomach sinking. "Ah-you've got a boyfriend already, is that it? Of course you do, why wouldn't you-"
"Don't be absurd," Jiyong snaps. "That's not it. Anyway, I don't do boyfriends."
"Right," Seunghyun says. He exhales slowly. "What is it, then?"
"I'm going away tomorrow," Jiyong says, so fast that it all bleeds together into one long word.
"Oh." He blinks. "That's great, where to?"
"New York City," he says. "It's in New York."
Seunghyun looks down and laughs. "Yeah, I know. How long will you be gone?"
"Two years," Jiyong says, smiling a little when Seunghyun's head snaps up. "Maybe more. It depends."
"Oh," Seunghyun says, and swallows shallowly. "I see. I thought you meant just for vacation, or something."
"No, I'm doing this course at a university there." He twists his neck and kicks at the floor. "Contemporary Perspectives of Modern Art in the Twenty-First Century."
"Wait, so you're going to art school," he says. He props himself against the door. "That's amazing, Jiyong-"
"I should've told you before," Jiyong says, voice cracking on the last word.
"You didn't have to," Seunghyun insists. "No, it's fine. That's really great, congratulations."
"Everything's always fine with you," Jiyong says, staring up at him. He pushes off the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets again. "Look, I'll call you, okay?"
The door's almost shut when Jiyong does another double take and barrels in, so close they're breathing the same air and Seunghyun goes a bit cross-eyed trying to look at him. "Look-are you doing anything tonight? I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize, it's-fine. No, I haven't got any plans-"
"Good, because I'm going for some drinks with my friends, as a kind of going away thing and-" Jiyong's bouncing on his toes, hands skimming over Seunghyun's shirt and neck and the edge of his jaw, "I was wondering if you'd like to come, maybe? It would be really cool if you could come, but it's up to you, I wouldn't be mad if you didn't show up, I mean-you didn't even know I was leaving a second ago." He sucks in a breath of air and tilts back on his heels. "I'll text you. I'll text you when and where and you can show up if you like and if not then that's fine too. Does that sound good? Okay."
"Okay."
Jiyong's grip tightens around Seunghyun's arms. "Ask me to stay."
"Alright-um, stay," Seunghyun says, bewildered.
"I can't," he exhales, after a long moment.
"Yeah," Seunghyun says, wrapping a hand around Jiyong's wrist. "I know."
And before he can say anything else, Jiyong's off like a firecracker, the slam of the door echoing loud in his ears.
He watches the bob of red hair weaving down the street from the window. Jiyong looks back a couple of times and probably sees him through the curtains, but Seunghyun can't really bring himself to care enough to stop staring.
> > > PART 2 > > >