[FIC] Of Kids and the Stupid Things They Do (G-Ri)
Title: Of Kids and the Stupid Things They Do
Rating: R for brief smut
Pairings: G-ri
Summary: Jiyong loves Seungri. Seungri tries. Sadness ensues.
Yay for writing something I almost kind of like. Warning, it's a little bit sad.
Should be out with the 4th chapter of 'Break' soon, for anyone who cares. >_> Drunk, what's that?
Read this? Go read oxygenlove's fic, Of Stupid Leaders and the Maknaes they Lead
“Again.”
It's the hundredth time that day, and they groan collectively. It's dark already, and it wouldn't be the first time for them to greet the morning in the studio, but none of them complain as they get back into positions. The beat pulses through the room again and into the boy's tired frames and brings them back to life.
It's not like they didn't know what they were getting into.
The music is shut off with a sharp click, and they all turn to meet frustrated eyes.
“Again.”
-
Hours later, they collapse into the apartment and eventually sort themselves out into their own rooms. Too tired even for showers; what's the use when all that awaits them is another sweaty day in the studio?
Jiyong stays behind, lingering in the kitchen until the others depart. Empty cup in hand, he wanders back and forth between fridge and counter, eyes vacant and rimmed with exhaustion. He leans against the table and sighs, rubbing at his eyes heavily before dropping his hand and staring hopelessly at the opposing wall. Beneath the harsh florescence, he looks gaunt and pale. Insubstantial.
A quiet click startles him and he turns, eyes catching on a slender frame shutting the door behind him.
It's Seungri. Of course. Jiyong huffs out something that could pass as a laugh and resumes his examination of the wall. Talk about shitty timing.
“Hyung,” Seungri states lowly, slowly approaching the older boy. His brows furrow lightly in worry. “I thought you might still be up. What are you doing?”
“Couldn't sleep.” Jiyong croaks, eyes still focused on the blank white and far, far away from Seungri.
Seungri clicks his tongue chidingly, hand sliding across the table towards Jiyong's limp palm “Hyung, really-” Jiyong's hand skitters away and into a tight pocket and Seungri freezes, eyes sliding up to Jiyong's face.
Jiyong doesn't say anything, purposefully ignoring Seungri's staring. The wall really is an interesting shade of white, and the last thing he needs to do is have some sort of breakdown because of the other boy.
“Hyung.”
Silence.
“Hyung.”
“Yes, Maknae.”
Seungri's face suddenly fills white space and it's far too close for Jiyong, who leans back. His eyes desperately search for something not Seungri-filled.
“Jiyongie, what is this about?”
Again there's that huff of a laugh, Jiyong sliding left, free from the trappings of tables and dark haired boys. Again he paces the kitchen, his back to Seungri even as he feels the tension build behind him.
“It's nothing. It's late, shouldn't you head to bed? Really, the baby needs his sleep..” Smiling halfheartedly, he tries to turn back for another lap, but fingers catch on the crook of his elbow. He stills, teeth clenching.
“Really...” he whispers sideways, eyes finally settling on the other boy.
Seungri's eyes burn holes in the ground, face downcast. He's silent for a moment, then -
“Is this about before?”
Jiyong's rapid blinking reads guilty surprise but his mouth is laughing again, incredulously.
“What are you talking about, Seungriya.?” He mumbles as he steps back, casually shrugging off Seungri's tightening grip. “ Look, I've just been really stressed lately. We all have. So... relax, alright?”
He half-smiles, trying to sound confident and comforting. Seungri's eyes remained fixed on dark wood and if anything, his expression darkens. I'm sorry, I - Instinctively, Jiyong raises a hand to touch the other boy. Catches himself halfway and drops it, standing helplessly in the sudden silence.
“What did I do..?” Seungri questions, loud and abrupt in the empty air.
Guilts twists hard in Jiyong's stomach and he clenches his fist. Seungri doesn't understand but Jiyong can't possibly explain, because to explain would involve remembering and remembering was -
No.
“Aigoo, Seungri what are you talking about? Hmm? Really, it's -”
“I - I thought it was what you wanted.” Seungri interrupts him, cool and low, head jerking up suddenly to face Jiyong. Frustration and embarrassment paint his features and Jiyong has to viciously wrench back the urge to just hug him.
It was. It was. More than anything, Jiyong thinks, grinning bitterly and a wash of sour amusement churns his belly at the fucking irony of it all.
“It wasn't what you wanted.”Jiyong calls back, softly.
Seungri's eyes widen and so does Jiyong's sad grin and yes, he said it and he knows, Jiyong gets it.
“W-what are you saying, Hyung, of c-course -”
“- Don't lie, Seungri.” He throws back, grin slipping and he doesn't even need the stuttering to confirm what he already knows.
Seungri gasps in surprise at the kiss and Jiyong jerks back, losing his balance and stumbling.
“Fuck, Seungri, I'm sorry, really, I'm just drunk, I'm just in fucking love with you, and I just,” He pauses. “Fuck.... Fuck.” And he can't look up, eyes swimming with shame and fear, but Seungri's hand sneaks into his vision, tugging him forward while another hand tips his head back. And now it's his turn to gasp in surprise, eyes wide. “Seungri -”
“ Shh, Shh,” Seungri breathes into his mouth. “ It's okay, Hyung.” He pulls them back another couple steps, hands sliding back to steady Jiyong. “ Just, let me.”
“I can... I can get better. Hyung. I can do better.” Seungri's voice cracks shallowly.
And Jiyong does let him, lets his Maknae deepen the kiss and pull him down to the couch, and he tries to believe. But Seungri presses into him with shaking hands and he looks and what's above him is a little boy, eyes scrunched tight and trembling and willing to do anything for his Hyung.
His Leader.
“Fuck, Maknae! This isn't about being better. It's about -”
'I need to stop this', Jiyong thinks, guilt and shame making him quiver but he doesn't. He wraps thin, damp arms around Seungri's naked frame and pulls him down, kissing the trembling eyelids and wrinkled brow and clenched jaw, butterfly light. And he lets himself want.
Enough for the both of them.
“Nng, I love you so much, Seungri.” I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry -
A pause, too long, “I love you too... Jiyong.” And he presses forward, slowly, panting wet heat and Jiyong promises himself just this once. 'I won't do it again, I won't.'
And he prays for god to forgive him.
“ - I-It's not about that. I can't. I won't do this.” Jiyong breathes out, air suddenly caught in his throat and talking more to himself than anything. He breathes in once, shakily, before turning to face the boy with a cool stare. I am the leader, he tells himself desperately, his expression carefully neutral. I'm supposed to take care of you. “What I did was wrong. It was really wrong of me, Seunghyun. And I can't let that that happen again.”
Seungri's eyes narrow suddenly, and he takes a step towards his Hyung. Jiyong steps back, slowly retreating into the living room and his stomach drops at the look in Seungri's eyes. “Why are you saying this, Hyung, I love you.”
Step, another step, back again and Jiyong is running away. “Don't say that.”
Seungri advances. “I do.”
Jiyong's knees hit the couch, heart stuttering. “ You don't.” but his mind betrays him, begs sinfully, please.
“I want this.” Jiyong jerks back hastily as Seungri catches up to him, narrowly missing the extended hand. He loses his balance and collapses ungracefully into the soft cushions.
“You don't.” Jiyong retorts, swallowing against a dry tongue.
Seungri kneels before him, eyes soft as he looks up at Jiyong but his words are as hard as stone.
“But you do.”
Jiyong throws his weight against the words, pounding feebly at the truth with too skinny arms and a breaking heart. His eyes travel the room feverishly and he thinks god he's just a kid, just a fucking skinny little kid.
And something merciless in him replies, and weren't you, too, when you first realized you wanted him.
Seungri smiles and Jiyong wants to scream.
“I knew, Hyung, for a long time. And I don't mind. I want to do this for you...” He kisses Jiyong's bony knees. “I want to. I love you. So, just let me, okay?” Adoration shines up at Jiyong from beneath dark lashes. It's wrong. Every atom in Jiyong protests. And every part of him twitches with sudden, palpable want.
He's just a kid.
And now hands are reaching for the button on his jeans and he can't help bucking a little into the fingers that brush against him. Innocent hands that reach in so carefully and pull out his hardening cock and innocent lips that wrap around him and suck experimentally, inexpertly, and it's so obviously the first time as darkened eyes flutter shut.
The first time.
Jiyong's eyes snap open and the hand in Seungri's hair twitches. Seungri moans at the touch, taking it deeper. But it is so good, too good for this and when he pulls the slick mouth off of him he groans at the loss of that perfect heat.
Wide, confused eyes gaze up and he screws his own eyes shut against them, jerking up the other and kissing him violently. Trying to taste everything, to take it all back. His grip loosens, running fingernails along a soft scalp as his tongue presses in deeper, gentling the kiss. I'm sorry, he tries to say in the wet slide. I really do love you.
He finally pulls back, kissing Seungri lighter, a soft brush of skin against skin. drops featherlight pecks along his jaw and he imagines that Seungri is delicate, breakable. He doesn't deserve to be damaged like Jiyong, by some twisted needy thing like himself.
“Save it,” Jiyong breathes, not able to hide the choke in his voice as he presses his lips into Seungri's forehead. “Maknae, for someone who really matters.” And now Seungri is protesting, trying to pull back, hands reaching out for the other boy ('what are you saying, hyung. you matter. hyung, please, talk to me.') but Jiyong is quick, sliding from beneath him and into the cooler, open air.
He dresses quickly, with more grace than seemed possible for a man nursing a hard-on, before looking back.
Seungri stares from the couch, lips swollen and looking young and lost and Jiyong has to laugh a little, real this time. Laughs even as he feels like sobbing, like fucking this boy he's loved far too much for far too long.
He reaches out, ruffling already mussed hair and makes for his room. If Seungri calls out his name, if his voice sounds like crying behind him, Jiyong doesn't hear it. Doesn't.
“Get some sleep.” He calls out before shutting the door. He leans against the wood and sighs.
God knows he wouldn't be.
Rating: R for brief smut
Pairings: G-ri
Summary: Jiyong loves Seungri. Seungri tries. Sadness ensues.
Yay for writing something I almost kind of like. Warning, it's a little bit sad.
Should be out with the 4th chapter of 'Break' soon, for anyone who cares. >_> Drunk, what's that?
Read this? Go read oxygenlove's fic, Of Stupid Leaders and the Maknaes they Lead
“Again.”
It's the hundredth time that day, and they groan collectively. It's dark already, and it wouldn't be the first time for them to greet the morning in the studio, but none of them complain as they get back into positions. The beat pulses through the room again and into the boy's tired frames and brings them back to life.
It's not like they didn't know what they were getting into.
The music is shut off with a sharp click, and they all turn to meet frustrated eyes.
“Again.”
-
Hours later, they collapse into the apartment and eventually sort themselves out into their own rooms. Too tired even for showers; what's the use when all that awaits them is another sweaty day in the studio?
Jiyong stays behind, lingering in the kitchen until the others depart. Empty cup in hand, he wanders back and forth between fridge and counter, eyes vacant and rimmed with exhaustion. He leans against the table and sighs, rubbing at his eyes heavily before dropping his hand and staring hopelessly at the opposing wall. Beneath the harsh florescence, he looks gaunt and pale. Insubstantial.
A quiet click startles him and he turns, eyes catching on a slender frame shutting the door behind him.
It's Seungri. Of course. Jiyong huffs out something that could pass as a laugh and resumes his examination of the wall. Talk about shitty timing.
“Hyung,” Seungri states lowly, slowly approaching the older boy. His brows furrow lightly in worry. “I thought you might still be up. What are you doing?”
“Couldn't sleep.” Jiyong croaks, eyes still focused on the blank white and far, far away from Seungri.
Seungri clicks his tongue chidingly, hand sliding across the table towards Jiyong's limp palm “Hyung, really-” Jiyong's hand skitters away and into a tight pocket and Seungri freezes, eyes sliding up to Jiyong's face.
Jiyong doesn't say anything, purposefully ignoring Seungri's staring. The wall really is an interesting shade of white, and the last thing he needs to do is have some sort of breakdown because of the other boy.
“Hyung.”
Silence.
“Hyung.”
“Yes, Maknae.”
Seungri's face suddenly fills white space and it's far too close for Jiyong, who leans back. His eyes desperately search for something not Seungri-filled.
“Jiyongie, what is this about?”
Again there's that huff of a laugh, Jiyong sliding left, free from the trappings of tables and dark haired boys. Again he paces the kitchen, his back to Seungri even as he feels the tension build behind him.
“It's nothing. It's late, shouldn't you head to bed? Really, the baby needs his sleep..” Smiling halfheartedly, he tries to turn back for another lap, but fingers catch on the crook of his elbow. He stills, teeth clenching.
“Really...” he whispers sideways, eyes finally settling on the other boy.
Seungri's eyes burn holes in the ground, face downcast. He's silent for a moment, then -
“Is this about before?”
Jiyong's rapid blinking reads guilty surprise but his mouth is laughing again, incredulously.
“What are you talking about, Seungriya.?” He mumbles as he steps back, casually shrugging off Seungri's tightening grip. “ Look, I've just been really stressed lately. We all have. So... relax, alright?”
He half-smiles, trying to sound confident and comforting. Seungri's eyes remained fixed on dark wood and if anything, his expression darkens. I'm sorry, I - Instinctively, Jiyong raises a hand to touch the other boy. Catches himself halfway and drops it, standing helplessly in the sudden silence.
“What did I do..?” Seungri questions, loud and abrupt in the empty air.
Guilts twists hard in Jiyong's stomach and he clenches his fist. Seungri doesn't understand but Jiyong can't possibly explain, because to explain would involve remembering and remembering was -
No.
“Aigoo, Seungri what are you talking about? Hmm? Really, it's -”
“I - I thought it was what you wanted.” Seungri interrupts him, cool and low, head jerking up suddenly to face Jiyong. Frustration and embarrassment paint his features and Jiyong has to viciously wrench back the urge to just hug him.
It was. It was. More than anything, Jiyong thinks, grinning bitterly and a wash of sour amusement churns his belly at the fucking irony of it all.
“It wasn't what you wanted.”Jiyong calls back, softly.
Seungri's eyes widen and so does Jiyong's sad grin and yes, he said it and he knows, Jiyong gets it.
“W-what are you saying, Hyung, of c-course -”
“- Don't lie, Seungri.” He throws back, grin slipping and he doesn't even need the stuttering to confirm what he already knows.
Seungri gasps in surprise at the kiss and Jiyong jerks back, losing his balance and stumbling.
“Fuck, Seungri, I'm sorry, really, I'm just drunk, I'm just in fucking love with you, and I just,” He pauses. “Fuck.... Fuck.” And he can't look up, eyes swimming with shame and fear, but Seungri's hand sneaks into his vision, tugging him forward while another hand tips his head back. And now it's his turn to gasp in surprise, eyes wide. “Seungri -”
“ Shh, Shh,” Seungri breathes into his mouth. “ It's okay, Hyung.” He pulls them back another couple steps, hands sliding back to steady Jiyong. “ Just, let me.”
“I can... I can get better. Hyung. I can do better.” Seungri's voice cracks shallowly.
And Jiyong does let him, lets his Maknae deepen the kiss and pull him down to the couch, and he tries to believe. But Seungri presses into him with shaking hands and he looks and what's above him is a little boy, eyes scrunched tight and trembling and willing to do anything for his Hyung.
His Leader.
“Fuck, Maknae! This isn't about being better. It's about -”
'I need to stop this', Jiyong thinks, guilt and shame making him quiver but he doesn't. He wraps thin, damp arms around Seungri's naked frame and pulls him down, kissing the trembling eyelids and wrinkled brow and clenched jaw, butterfly light. And he lets himself want.
Enough for the both of them.
“Nng, I love you so much, Seungri.” I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry -
A pause, too long, “I love you too... Jiyong.” And he presses forward, slowly, panting wet heat and Jiyong promises himself just this once. 'I won't do it again, I won't.'
And he prays for god to forgive him.
“ - I-It's not about that. I can't. I won't do this.” Jiyong breathes out, air suddenly caught in his throat and talking more to himself than anything. He breathes in once, shakily, before turning to face the boy with a cool stare. I am the leader, he tells himself desperately, his expression carefully neutral. I'm supposed to take care of you. “What I did was wrong. It was really wrong of me, Seunghyun. And I can't let that that happen again.”
Seungri's eyes narrow suddenly, and he takes a step towards his Hyung. Jiyong steps back, slowly retreating into the living room and his stomach drops at the look in Seungri's eyes. “Why are you saying this, Hyung, I love you.”
Step, another step, back again and Jiyong is running away. “Don't say that.”
Seungri advances. “I do.”
Jiyong's knees hit the couch, heart stuttering. “ You don't.” but his mind betrays him, begs sinfully, please.
“I want this.” Jiyong jerks back hastily as Seungri catches up to him, narrowly missing the extended hand. He loses his balance and collapses ungracefully into the soft cushions.
“You don't.” Jiyong retorts, swallowing against a dry tongue.
Seungri kneels before him, eyes soft as he looks up at Jiyong but his words are as hard as stone.
“But you do.”
Jiyong throws his weight against the words, pounding feebly at the truth with too skinny arms and a breaking heart. His eyes travel the room feverishly and he thinks god he's just a kid, just a fucking skinny little kid.
And something merciless in him replies, and weren't you, too, when you first realized you wanted him.
Seungri smiles and Jiyong wants to scream.
“I knew, Hyung, for a long time. And I don't mind. I want to do this for you...” He kisses Jiyong's bony knees. “I want to. I love you. So, just let me, okay?” Adoration shines up at Jiyong from beneath dark lashes. It's wrong. Every atom in Jiyong protests. And every part of him twitches with sudden, palpable want.
He's just a kid.
And now hands are reaching for the button on his jeans and he can't help bucking a little into the fingers that brush against him. Innocent hands that reach in so carefully and pull out his hardening cock and innocent lips that wrap around him and suck experimentally, inexpertly, and it's so obviously the first time as darkened eyes flutter shut.
The first time.
Jiyong's eyes snap open and the hand in Seungri's hair twitches. Seungri moans at the touch, taking it deeper. But it is so good, too good for this and when he pulls the slick mouth off of him he groans at the loss of that perfect heat.
Wide, confused eyes gaze up and he screws his own eyes shut against them, jerking up the other and kissing him violently. Trying to taste everything, to take it all back. His grip loosens, running fingernails along a soft scalp as his tongue presses in deeper, gentling the kiss. I'm sorry, he tries to say in the wet slide. I really do love you.
He finally pulls back, kissing Seungri lighter, a soft brush of skin against skin. drops featherlight pecks along his jaw and he imagines that Seungri is delicate, breakable. He doesn't deserve to be damaged like Jiyong, by some twisted needy thing like himself.
“Save it,” Jiyong breathes, not able to hide the choke in his voice as he presses his lips into Seungri's forehead. “Maknae, for someone who really matters.” And now Seungri is protesting, trying to pull back, hands reaching out for the other boy ('what are you saying, hyung. you matter. hyung, please, talk to me.') but Jiyong is quick, sliding from beneath him and into the cooler, open air.
He dresses quickly, with more grace than seemed possible for a man nursing a hard-on, before looking back.
Seungri stares from the couch, lips swollen and looking young and lost and Jiyong has to laugh a little, real this time. Laughs even as he feels like sobbing, like fucking this boy he's loved far too much for far too long.
He reaches out, ruffling already mussed hair and makes for his room. If Seungri calls out his name, if his voice sounds like crying behind him, Jiyong doesn't hear it. Doesn't.
“Get some sleep.” He calls out before shutting the door. He leans against the wood and sighs.
God knows he wouldn't be.