appetite for destruction ; sechen [rockband!au]
Title: Appetite for destruction
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jongdae/Sehun, mention of past!Chanyeol/Baekhyun, slightly jongdae centric
Wordcount: ~23k
Warning: Slight mention of drug use, alcohol, language
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Note: Wowowowo! I've made a playlist, how cool is that? And if you need some rockband!au feels, i suggest you to go right here.
Summary: Jongdae has his face in every girl's room - albums, posters, magazines- and he's used to being out of reach. At least, that's what he likes to tell himself, because it turns out that, somewhere along the way, Sehun already caught him.
Author's note: It's all Alina's fault, because she made an edit, and I already had some strong feels from Jongdae's solo, and then Die Jungs came out and ;; Anyway, Alina, I'm pretty sure this is not what you expected, but I really hope you'll like it because i'm super nervous!! (please don't hate me okay?)
Also I'd like to thank E for beta-ing this whole mess, props to her! Last, but not least, thank you C, my fftwin, because you helped me so much and without you, that fic wouldn't be. I'll try my best for your chanbaek sequel ♥
Jongdae's vision is filled with black smoke, and it burns his lungs in the softest way. Maybe he shouldn't breathe anymore, because the smoke paints the back of his throat like poison, and he'll have to dig out his vocal cords from under the ashes for the next gig. It's been a long time since Jongdae last thought about consequences though, the 'living in the moment' philosophy taking the best of him. Maybe it was in the pact with the devil he may have signed when he was too high on dreams and weed, he thinks. Something obviously took him here, and he begins to doubt his talent is the reason. If this is true, then the Devil is a real thing, and Jongdae is totally fucked because the black smoke comes with numerous sins. At least he's enjoying the ride (and he thinks that maybe it will lead him to the VIP seat in hell). He tries to imagine how the VIP lounge looks like in the dark pit, and chuckles.
"What's so funny?" Sehun asks with a hoarse voice, as a fragile filament of black smoke escapes from his mouth. Jongdae runs the tip of his tongue across his upper lip as he watches Sehun's mouth, tempting and pink, as if he didn't just smoke dozens of cigarettes.
"Nothing," he answers and Sehun smiles.
Jongdae stays still as Sehun crushes his cigarette butt in the ashtray before putting his hand back on the neck of his acoustic guitar. His slender fingers dance across the frets, pressing a couple of notes here and there, before positioning themselves, and Jongdae hears the chord resonating in his chest a few seconds before Sehun strums it. The melody is unfamiliar and the strumming pattern is as good as it always is with Sehun-- and if Jongdae didn't know him any better he would think Sehun actually wrote the song before letting him hear it. But Jongdae has known him for years, and it's more than enough to not question Sehun's ability to give sense to music anymore. Sehun understands how everything works, he understands what would make a great verse and how every song is different but always quite the same in the end, and that's why he's a great musician. Music can't be explained but only understood, and if you don't speak its language, there's no way you can learn it. The black smoke may be burying Jongdae and Sehun's souls under layers of ashes, but both of them were born with a gift and it's still there, cleaning the burnt lining of their lungs every day. Jongdae closes his eyes, still spread out on his hotel room's floor, and listens to Sehun's little improvisation. They wrote two songs already, but his mind still fills up with lyrics and melodies that would sound perfect with Sehun's guitar as a background. This one could be about freedom and black smoke, since Jongdae figured out some times ago that both were intimately related (he doesn't understand why, though, he keeps picturing Sehun's pale face in the music video they could shoot for the song).
"And...just there, Chanyeol's solo guitar." Sehun's voice his barely louder than his guitar, but Jongdae hears him perfectly fine.
He holds his breath as Sehun's wrist breaks the dull atmosphere into powerful shots of pure adrenaline with rhythmic strumming. Chanyeol would love the breaks in the melody, the speed of the succession of the power chords, but most of all he would definitely put one of his brilliant solos there. They've all worked long enough together for Jongdae to be able to guess how things will go: Sehun will play his new song and Chanyeol will hop up and down with excitement, mouth already full of suggestions and fingers itching to give birth to another mind blowing solo. Jongin will think for a few minutes, sometimes breaking his silence to try something on the drums, before finally saying something like "how great would that be if I mainly played this song on the cymbals?"; and Tao will lazily grab his bass guitar while rolling his eyes in the back of his head, as if the song wasn't that great. Jongdae will come up with lyrics full of imagery that, without him knowing why, will remind him of Sehun's eyes, heavy with eyeliner, and sharp collarbones. Their last single gave a strange feeling, at least it did for Jongdae, and it almost had a smell, oddly similar to the scent of Sehun's skin when he wears his worn-out leather pants. Jongdae doesn't question it anymore, he doesn't care where his inspiration comes from, because knowing their songs are top ranked in every Asian country is the only answer he needs.
Sehun ends the song, suddenly, but Jongdae's veins still throb with a little more than just blood. The feeling is everything familiar but still so new, to the point where he wonders if he's made of more music than blood. He likes it, though, not knowing which parts of him are purely human and which are the ones he gives in to their songs. The black smoke still weighs on his lungs but Jongdae feels immortal. They all do.
"You want another beer?" Sehun asks as he pushes his guitar away. Jongdae shakes his head and reaches out to grab the instrument, but Sehun stops his hand midway.
"It was a great composition,” Jongdae says with a smirk as Sehun's fingers work their way in the space between his.
"Of course, it was." Sehun's eyes are filled with self-importance and something else that burns Jongdae way more than the smoke. He pretends that his heart isn't aching with impatience and plays along.
"So what? You want a medal or something? It wasn't that great, Oh Sehun, keep your feet--"
His last words drown in the rush of adrenaline Sehun's free hand injects through his body when it sneaks under his tank top, directly on his stomach. Jongdae's breath hitches as Sehun's fingers follow the muscles around his navel. His palm is hot, terribly hot, against Jongdae's skin, and the latter realizes how cold his whole body is. He leans into the touch but keeps his playful smirk on as Sehun's eyes darken. Jongdae watches the younger leaning down, and shudders when Sehun licks his lips. God, he hates that fucking habit of his, and at the same time, he kind of wants Sehun to use his tongue a little more.
"What if I do, Jongdae?" Jongdae gulps when he hears his name and instinctively grabs Sehun's shoulder. Sehun may be the embodiment of sex, he still calls his elders hyung, and most of the time, it's funny as hell to laugh at him for that -rock’n’roll my ass, Chanyeol mocks him every time- but since Jongdae has found out about the other side of Sehun's manners, he doesn't laugh that much anymore. The fucker knows what he's doing.
"What if I do want that medal, uh? Will you give it to me?" Sehun adds, his face dangerously close. Jongdae squirms as Sehun's fingers slightly brush against his nipple. They fooled around enough for Sehun to not be tricked by Jongdae's playing anymore, but Jongdae still pretends that he doesn't desperately need Sehun body against his.
"I'm flattered, Sehun, that you consider me like your trophy. Am I such a good fuck that you--"
Sehun's mouth is on his, shutting Jongdae down and forcing him to swallow his smirk, and it's so easy that it's unfair. Jongdae could push him away, he could struggle, but Sehun's tongue is running along the curve of his lips, and it's easier to let him in. He doesn't give up without a good fight though, and goes to grab a handful of Sehun's hair at the back of his head. He pulls it and Sehun bites his lip for revenge. The kiss is messy and they're fighting for dominance, but Sehun still steals the oxygen from Jongdae's lungs, and soon, the latter doesn't mind the ferrous taste Sehun's tongue is leaving in his mouth anymore.
Sehun straddles him but the change of posture forces him to break the kiss. Jongdae takes advantage of it to fill his lungs again, but he lets all the oxygen out in faint moans when Sehun's fingers follow the ridges of his ribs. Jongdae's body grows longer under Sehun's touch and his hands grow desperate; it takes him less than a second to get Sehun's tank top out of the way. The white expanse of milky skin is almost painful for him (or maybe it's the way Sehun's fingers dig their way on his sides, leaving behind them red scratches that will disappear too soon) but he's too eager to mind the way it burns his retinas. Jongdae wants more-- needs more and he makes sure that Sehun feels it when he grabs the younger's hips to slide their still-clothed crotches together. The way Sehun moans is almost obscene, his swollen lips as pink as they always are, and he looks so young, so naïve that Jongdae would stop if he didn't know any better. Sehun tastes like heaven but Jongdae knows better than anyone else that he's actually built for sin.
Jongdae straightens up, just enough to force Sehun back into another kiss. This time, he's the one invading the other’s mouth, his whole body pulsating with want and need and more, please more. Sehun's hands rush to undo his belt but Jongdae stays in control. He maps Sehun's mouth with the tip of his tongue and swallows the other's low moans as his nails press red crescents on Sehun's skin. The guitarist tastes like the dozens of cigarettes he smoked and the many beers he gulped down, but Jongdae knows this taste-- he has the same one lingering in the back of his throat-- and it's not what he wants. Sehun is burning on the back of his tongue, intoxicating but addictive, and Jongdae grabs his face to deepen their kiss. His own whimper dies, curling around Sehun's tongue when the latter's hand disappears down his pants, but as much as Jongdae wants to breathe, he is not going to break the kiss. He needs to taste Sehun and not the black smoke that still lingers in the air around them. They decided that it would be their stress reliever when it first happened at one of the many after-parties they attend to, and somewhere along the way, Jongdae has grown addicted to the taste of Sehun, and he wants it now. He wants something else than what he can already have in the daylight, and he knows Sehun is his answer.
So Jongdae takes his time, his fingers buried in Sehun's bleached hair, to lick his mouth clean. Maybe it's a lost cause, maybe they're both too burnt to be something other than ashes but Jongdae is not going to give up. He doesn't know if it's hope, if he's just caught up in one of those fucked up metaphors about life, and if he's actually just trying to prove himself he can be cleaned too, but it doesn't matter in the end. Sehun resonates like another addiction through his whole body, and Jongdae doubts that this is the way of redemption, but he's already doomed so he surrenders easily.
He is fully seated, with Sehun's skinny legs wrapped around his waist, both of their shirts on the bedroom's floor and their pants unbuttoned, when the taste of freedom finally blossoms on the tip of his tongue. Jongdae's fierce fight comes to an end, and if the black spots caused by the lack of oxygen that fill his vision when he breaks the kiss are any indication, it's about time. When he breathes in, Sehun's taste lingers in his mouth, stronger than smoke, as it always is.
"Jongdae..." Sehun softly moans right into his ear when Jongdae's fingers go past the waistband of his underwear. Jongdae watches him through his lashes and Sehun meets his gaze, eyes heavy with lust. He doesn't move though, and Jongdae almost feels uncomfortable when the silence draws out. Lately, and more often than not, Sehun would look at him with questioning eyes as if he was asking for permission. The fact that Jongdae is willingly giving him a hand job should be enough of an answer, but Sehun's eyes still stay fixated on his, looking for something Jongdae isn't even sure he has. He squirms uncomfortably under the heavy gaze and pulls out his hand from Sehun's underwear to grab his hips. He tips him over and runs away from the silent question in Sehun's eyes by leaning down to suck purple flowers on his collarbones. Sehun only wears shirts with collars way too low for his own good, and Jongdae always makes sure the bruises show, because he loves seeing fangirls squeal with excitement. The faint tension in Sehun's body finally fades away and soon enough, his hands are back on Jongdae's back as he gives in to Jongdae's mouth on his body.
Jongdae crumbles away under Sehun's touch, but he makes sure to bring a ruined Sehun down with him. When Sehun sits him on his lap, Jongdae wraps his legs around the younger's pointy hips with so much strength that Sehun's bones feel like knives tearing his thighs apart; he could probably choke him if his hands weren't buried deep in bleached hair, nails scratching against Sehun's scalp. He should be used to the burning slide of their bodies together by now, but it still catches him off-guard almost painfully, the friction drives him crazy, and he urges Sehun to bite him hard enough to draw blood when the musician nips the sensitive skin of his neck. The tension hurts, but nothing hurts more than Sehun all over his body-- and that's exactly how Jongdae wants it-- so when he finally explodes, he lets out the pain and the desperate need for Sehun in a silent moan that burns more than all the smoke he's ever breathed in. Sehun drowns his own climax in Jongdae's hair while keeping him pressed against his chest, close to his heart.
They pass out on the hotel room's floor, bodies still tangled, as dawn's first rays of light shyly reveal the bruises blooming on their skins.
Sometimes, when Jongdae sees the reflection of his body in the mirror after one of their nights together, he wonders if what he's doing with Sehun is really fucking, because he looks like he's finally paying for all the bad things he's done. Sehun is blooming all over his skin, in teeth marks and burning nail scratches, and Jongdae would be afraid if he wasn't used to bruises and muscular ache, but more importantly, if he didn't want it. He likes waking up to the burning pain of stiffness, especially when he can't say if the pain comes from Sehun or the adrenaline of being on stage the day before. It's much better than waking up, cold and alone, and knowing that it's your dream, and your dream only, that's wearing your body down to the core, and hurts so much.
“EXO! EXO! EXO! EXO!”
Jongdae closes his eyes to try and erase the loud cheering from his mind. When he and Chanyeol first came up with the name of their future band, it sounded so much different in their mouths, and he clearly remembers spending the night after in Baekhyun’s cellar, repeating the name endlessly while pretending to rehearse. It was what feels like centuries ago, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jongdae still can say without any doubt what song they were rehearsing, and what were the lyrics he wrote that night, he would probably think the memory was some kind of recollection from one of his past lives. He misses the nights spent wide awake in his bed, the litany of exo, exo, exo, exo, exo, exo coming from his mouth as the only sound in the sleepy silence. Everything is so different now, and the crowd he can’t see -but still can hear- screaming for him, for the whole band, makes him want to throw up.
Someone grabs Jongdae’s shoulder and the latter knows who dares before even turning to face the intruder. They’ve been traveling with the same crew for several years now, and the roadies know better than disturbing the great Kim Jongdae before a show; but he’s known Chanyeol since their kindergarten days, and the kid still doesn’t know when he’s invading Jongdae’s personal space.
Chanyeol’s wide grin gets on Jongdae’s nerves, just as much as the incessant recital of EXO on the other side, and he has to resist the urge to punch Chanyeol in the throat.
“What?” he barks and Chanyeol raises an eyebrow.
“Nervous, I see.”
Chanyeol doesn’t make the job easier for Jongdae, the latter having about a dozens of way to make the giant dumbass suffer flashing through his mind in less than one second, so he glares at his best friend and turns away to take another look at the stage, not trusting himself enough to actually answer. From where he’s standing, he can see Sehun’s spot at the opposite, his favorite Gibson carefully tuned and waiting to be picked up for their first song. Just a couple of feet on the left stands his microphone stand, and Jongdae really shouldn’t be estimating how many steps it will take him to get there, because his stomach is dangerously turning. The tension in his back is so strong that Jongdae feels like crumbling down when Chanyeol throws his arms around his shoulder, but Jongdae doesn’t push him away anyway.
“We’re ready,” Chanyeol reassures him. “Everything is gonna be just fine. You’re gonna be great, as usual.”
Jongdae tears his gaze away from the stage to look up at EXO’s guitar solo prodigy. Park Chanyeol, in all his glory, is still taller than him, but his face isn’t as chubby as it was when they created EXO after watching a Guns’n Roses show on TV. His wide eyes are underlined with faded eyeliner, and his hair is a messy explosion of red locks, but his smile hasn't changed for a bit. Chanyeol is still the same, even in the way he moves his lips as the talks, the bastard didn’t even get all skinny and bony, like Jongdae. The latter can’t suppress the sting of jealousy, because after all these years, Chanyeol is still joyful and full of confidence, and Jongdae is as deadly nervous before every show as he was when they debuted years ago.
“You think?” Jongdae finally asks in a whisper as he drives his gaze back to the stage. He feels more than he sees Chanyeol’s furious nodding next to him.
“As usual,” his best friend retorts with a hint of impatience in his voice.
The adrenaline is already rushing into Jongdae’s veins too, the spotlights are suddenly turned off on stage, and he knows it’s their signal. Soon, he’ll be standing next to his microphone stand, facing a hundred of people that came to see them perform, and he’ll remember how he actually loves to hear them screaming their band’s name, because it’s the only thing that makes sense. For now though, Jongdae feels like there are thousand burning needles piercing his internal organs, and soon, he’ll be choking on his own blood. Chanyeol squeezes his shoulder before letting him go, and there is something about the simple pressure that keeps Jongdae together. The sting of jealousy is long gone, replaced by an overwhelming relief, because there’s a reason that Chanyeol is the only guy allowed to come near Jongdae before a show, and Jongdae thanks the lord-- or whoever-- every night when he realizes the reason proves to still be true.
One of the technicians raises his hands towards them, and Jongdae instinctively counts how many fingers are up. Ten. Ten seconds.
“Guys,” Chanyeol begins as Sehun, Tao and Jongin gather around them. “They paid to see us.”
Jongdae’s eyes meet Sehun’s on their way to the roadie’s hands. Nine.
“They waited for us all day long.”
Sehun doesn’t blink and neither does Jongdae. The adrenaline is almost painful in his chest, begging him to use it, tickling his leg muscles to make him jump. The taste of all the honey sweet tea he gulped down to ease his vocal cords is stronger than before.
“They probably buy our albums, they know the lyrics of our songs by heart.” Chanyeol’s voice is serious and low, like it always is before every show. Jongdae is kind of a leader for EXO but Chanyeol is always doing the you-better-move-your-ass-on-that-freaking-stage-or-I’ll-sit-on-your-instrument speech.
Jongdae’s eyes are glued to Sehun’s, and Chanyeol’s solemn tone drowns in the litany of EXO and in the black of Sehun’s irises. Jongdae’s skin itches with electricity. He wants to listen to Chanyeol, he wants to hear the passion burning behind his words and see the excitation blowing his pupils wild, but he can’t tear his gaze away from Sehun. There’s a ghost of a smirk on the younger’s pink lips and before Jongdae even has to wonder, Sehun mouths a silent ‘zero’.
The crowd is hyper and they all go wild when EXO comes up on stage. Jongdae doesn’t belong to himself anymore, and he makes sure to blow into so many pieces that everyone will be able to bring home a part of him tonight. They're going to spend the next two hours trying to bring the show to its zenith, using everything they can, from the instruments they master to their sweaty bodies, while making sure to take the whole crowd with them. Their blood turns into adrenaline, so pure, that a heart attack is probably lurking from where it soaks straight into their hearts, and sometimes, when he's out of breath, Jongdae feels it squeezing his heart. He's not the typical rock star who takes shots of heroin for breakfast, but in those moments, he knows that it won't change a thing in the end. He'll probably die on stage, a high note stuck in the back of his throat and the shadow of a climax he'll never reach in his eyes. The atmosphere is so wild, so surreal that Jongdae used to think it was all a dream back in the days, but hundreds of shows later, it feels more real than reality itself, while the dream is when the show comes to an end. He'd sell his soul to live a never-ending gig with a crowd like that one, and if it had to make his heart explode in his chest, then so be it. Jongdae would give a lot to go out with a loud bang rather than with an unnoticed whimper, and it turns out that after the peak, there's only the free fall-- bone-crushing withdrawal of adrenaline-- and none of them has learned to land on their feet yet. Jongdae feels more alive on stage than anywhere else. He knows they all do, this is where they belong.
They're past the middle of the set list when Jongin, high on power and wild screams, decides to improvise an impressive solo on the drums. Sehun grabs another silver guitar pick from the microphone stand they've been glued to, and put his right feet on one of the many amps at the front of the stage. Screams get wilder but Sehun's face remains neutral as he easily jumps into Jongin's rhythmic with heavy power chords and fast slides on the neck of his guitar. Tao is the next one to join, soon followed by Chanyeol who makes his old guitar-- his very first one that he just grabbed from the corner of the stage-- scream. Jongdae watches the ocean of manic humans before him, and it takes him a moment to realize he's as excited as them because of the music taking over his body. He feels something big that’s growing even larger in his chest and he feels the electricity and the power eating him alive as he tightens his hold around his microphone until his knuckles turn white. He finally lets all the tension out in a long, powerful high note. The blood is rushing to his ears and the oxygen is leaving his body but Jongdae keeps singing, falsetto stable and clear. He sings the note until it sucks him dry and he finds himself spread out on the dusty floor of the stage. Breathing hurts and there are black holes in the corners of his vision but, fuck it, he feels so alive and whole, clean of all the black smoke. He's been torn into so many pieces, but he doesn't care, because everyone in the crowd is giving him back way more than what he'd never be. The song ends in an explosion of screams and pure perfection, and Jongdae laughs as he raises his microphone to his lips.
"Scream for me, Osaka!"
And Osaka screams, so loud that he fears his eardrums may burst.
Tao gives him a hand to help him back up on his feet and Jongdae is blinded by the smile on the younger's lips. He figures out he probably has the same because Tao squeezes him in a quick hug. Jongdae throws an arm around his waist to keep him by his side as he finally faces the crowd again.
"The next song is one of our first singles," he announces in the microphone, and he sees the faces of the people in the first row lighten up. He already hears the title of their first high ranked song screamed through the whole venue. The ever-growing crack in his heart broadens a little more, but Jongdae keeps smiling. He needs to suck it up, they can't not play the song, not when it has become such a key song in their careers, and it's time for him to get used to it.
He lets go of Tao and raises his free hand up in the air.
"UPRISING!!"
His voice echoes all around him before disappearing into the intro EXO's musicians are now playing. Uprising hasn't changed much since that night in Baekhyun's cellar, sometimes they tweak it a bit to get rid of the dreariness of playing it almost every day, but the lyrics are the same and the melody sounds exactly like it did. It's the only song they kept from a time when EXO had only three members (it didn't last long though, because the day after, Jongdae, Baekhyun and Chanyeol were rushing to Jongin's house with eyes filled with dreams) and years later, only two of them are still performing it. Jongdae closes his eyes and lets the music, the screams and the artificial lights that break through his eyelids, take over him. Wondering if Tao, Jongin and Chanyeol suddenly feel as small and vulnerable as him costs him too much, and he doesn't need this, not when Uprising's lyrics rush to his head a few seconds before he opens his mouth to sing.
When they finally hit the bridge, Jongdae is next to Sehun. The guitarist has that aura-- like the air around him is thicker, so thick that it obstructs all the external noise, and Jongdae sinks in another world where even his thoughts are completely shut down-- that feels even stronger every time they perform Uprising. It’s not the first time Jongdae finds himself by his side during the song, but he never fights it. He thinks that a part of him, more or less important, evaluates Sehun as a neutral ground where it’s safe to stand, so he lets himself go.
Jongdae is busy grabbing and touching all the hands offered to him when the crowd evades his control. He frowns and turns his head back to the rest of his members, supposing that one of them is the reason behind the shriller screams and high-pitched shouts of envy. What he was expecting, though, was more something like Tao taking off his jacket with one of his famous sex faces, or even Chanyeol showing off his glorious guns; but not, in any case a still-playing Sehun being furiously kissed by some hysteric girl. She wears an EXO shirt, Jongdae notices, because he’d rather look at the silver logo than look at her pushing her tongue deep in Sehun’s throat. He also notes that Sehun’s fingers keep sliding on his guitar’s frets with ease, and that his wrist doesn’t make a slight mistake in the rhythmic when Jongdae was waiting for them to push the girl away. In the end, it’s one of the vigils that grabs her, and usually Jongdae is pretty protective with their fans -even the crazier ones- but now he kind of wishes the guy would just throw her away in the over-excited pit as a sacrifice for all the jealous fangirls. The security guard drags the girl out of the stage, where the song still keeps going. Tao is laughing his ass off, Jongin rolls his eyes in the back of his head and Chanyeol winks at some random girl -who will probably dream of her own miraculous breakthrough to the stage and to Chanyeol’s lips tonight- and Sehun… Sehun licks his lips, his eyes slowly turning to crescents, as he finally turns toward Tao, laughter drowned in the music but still pretty evident on his face. Jongdae sees red, and he burns hotter and hotter and hotter and hotter.
“What the fuck was that?!”
Jongdae’s voice is strained from all the singing, and he already feels his vocal cords aching after the way he pushed on them. He hit notes he shouldn’t even have tried to hit, but he had so much energy and adrenaline he really needed to get rid of. It didn’t work that well, obviously, seeing how he is now furiously glaring at everyone backstage. Jongin wipes away the sweat from his face with one of the towels they’ve been given before raising an eyebrow at him. Jongdae is about to tell him to fuck off with his stupid face when Tao gives him a powerful slap on the back, making him choke on his own words.
“Damn, Jongdae, you were crazy tonight! You practically made the show on your own. I swear dude, I felt useless.”
Jongdae eludes another pat on his back, eyes scanning the whole place, looking for his scapegoat. He clenches his jaw when he sees Sehun and Chanyeol walking towards them, and he feels so hot he’s sure the blood in his veins is boiling.
“Where the fuck is Junmyeon?!” he shouts, and the pleasure flashing through him when he catches sight of Chanyeol and Sehun looking at him with surprise isn’t nearly enough to calm him.
Kim Junmyeon, EXO’s manager since their very first contract -he had quit his job at their first company to stay with them when they all left (because the company wanted more ‘trendy’ songs)- but more importantly, one of their closest friends, takes his work seriously. So when he hears his name, he rushes to the singer, grabbing everything he think might help on his way there. When he finally stops before Jongdae, his arms are full of water bottles, towels, mineral water sprays and jackets.
“What? What is it? What’s happening?” Junmyeon asks with alarmed eyes.
“What is happening?” Jongdae mimics, harsher than what he was first aiming for. Before he feels guilty though, Chanyeol and Sehun stop next to them, and Jongdae is back at being a time bomb ready to explode.
“Didn’t you see what happened on that stage, Junmyeon?!” His voice cracks with that stupid high-pitched tone he can’t help but have when he’s angry. Junmyeon winces and shyly raises a bottle of water towards him.
“You really shouldn’t scream, Jongdae, your voice--”
“Yeah, and more importantly, you’re getting on my nerves, Jongdae.” Chanyeol completes with dark eyes, his tone low and imposing. Being Jongdae’s childhood friend doesn’t only bring advantages, but it still gives him the ability to feel Jongdae’s tantrums coming, and even if, most of the time, Chanyeol chooses the safer decision -flee to save his skin- there are times like these when he steps in the game and tries to neutralize Jongdae.
Jongdae, though, isn’t ready to let go, and he won’t let Chanyeol shut him down so easily. He thinks he has all the rights to be angry, and fuck, if he wants to scream, then he’s going to scream.
“That’s all you have to say? I mean, a crazy girl manages to go up on stage, and your reaction is just ‘shut up Jongdae’? What if Sehun had been hurt? What if she had wanted to harm him? Or any of us?”
Tao and Jongin exchange a look before eyeing Jongdae as if he was crazy, but Jongdae really couldn’t care less. He wants to find someone to blame, he wants all of his members to be just as furious as he is, so he won’t have to wonder, or even think about the burning rage in his veins tomorrow. Instead of that, there are five dumbfounded guys staring at him, adding fuel to the fire Jongdae already is. At this stage, it seems like the only thing that will eventually help him calm down, is sacrificing himself that stupid girl. Who knows where that hysteric tongue vacuum is now, so Jongdae will have to make do with his second best choice: picking on the weakest of the pack.
“Seriously, Junmyeon-”
“It’s hyung for you, Jongdae.” Chanyeol thunders but Jongdae ignores him with brio.
“-imagine if she had had a gun hidden? Going down in history is great, but not like Pantera did, with a shot and killed guitarist on stage.”
“Please,” Chanyeol mocks him, before pointing at a confused Sehun -not that Jongdae is looking at him, because he’s afraid he’ll break his fingers if he did. “Does Sehun seem traumatized to you? The girl probably has his face everywhere in her bedroom. She just saw a chance to kiss wonderful and sexy Oh Sehun, and she did it, that’s all. And if I remember well, Sehun liked it.”
Jongdae’s heart beats faster than ever, so fast that it burns down every ounce of power and energy his body still has. He feels it pumping in his legs, at the tip of his fingers and even in the small of his back, and for a second, it feels like his whole body revolves around this complex set of cardiac muscles, veins, arteries and valves. It takes so much space in his chest’s cavity that it crushes his lungs, stopping Jongdae from breathing. The atmosphere gets heavier, so much heavier that it could crush Chanyeol as if he were an ant -and Jongdae wishes it would.
Sehun awkwardly clears his throat.
“I’m sorry for what happened, Jongdae,” Junmyeon hesitantly intervenes, his eyes going back and forth between Chanyeol and Jongdae. “I’ll strengthen security for the next show, and it won’t happen again, okay?”
“Yes, please,” Jongdae snaps, still facing Chanyeol and fighting the urge to punch him. “And you,” he adds to the giant dumbass. “You’re an asshole.”
Chanyeol shrugs as one of his stupid smiles takes up three quarters of his face, and Jongdae takes it as his cue to leave. He can’t look at Chanyeol without dreaming of murdering him, but most of all, it’s Sehun’s presence that gets to him the most. Jongdae can hear him breathing and the deep, regular sound makes his skin itch almost painfully. He feels betrayed, because Sehun was the one who got attacked but he still stayed silent during the whole fight, not even helping Jongdae out. Flashes of slender fingers sliding on a guitar’s neck go through Jongdae’s mind, along with crescent eyes and pink moist lips. He feels himself falling into an endless urge of burning, wants to hit and punch, and the only thing that keeps him from getting completely toasted by his anger is Chanyeol’s voice, once again resonating annoyingly in his head.
“Jongdae? I said, ‘Do you want to come drink a beer or two somewhere?’”
Jongdae feels Sehun’s eyes, heavy on him, and it makes him fall faster.
“Fuck off,” he retorts to Chanyeol, but when he turns on his heels and walks away, the only thing he actually wonders is if Sehun got splashed by his anger too.
He hopes he did.
Jongdae's vision is filled with black smoke, and it burns his lungs in the most painful way. He keeps breathing, though, because when the smoke penetrates his body, it covers everything with a thick layer of ashes, hiding the tiredness and the way his body suffers from it. Sometimes, when Jongdae feels like the damages are too important to still be ignored, he pictures black unguent filling up the holes, noxious and impenetrable shield against what can still harm him. He’s not even sure why he feels so tired all of a sudden, he just knows that his limbs are heavier than ever and that a plain hotel bed never looked more appealing to him. Tours are exhausting, and he supposes that it’s just the consequences of their Japanese one finally catching up with him.
The cigarette dies between his lips, but Jongdae keeps its butt between his teeth. He doesn’t want to move, and he figures that, with the cigarette being out, he finally can fall asleep and, who knows, never wake up again. He liked it better when he was angry, even if he was just burning energy he didn’t really have, because at least he was still able to stand on his own two feet. He thinks about the texts Chanyeol sent him a couple of hours earlier and considers calling him to ask him to come. Seeing Chanyeol’s stupid face will, for sure, rekindle the anger, but that would also mean letting the peaceful silence go, and Jongdae isn’t ready for it.
Unfortunately, when he feels his eyelids finally getting heavier, there’s a sharp knock on his door, jerking him back to reality. No need to wonder who is on the other side of the door, because Jongdae only knows one person who knocks like that -short and abrupt, as if he needs to force himself while creating that stupid need Jongdae now has to see his face. He throws the cigarette butt away and drags himself to the door.
“What do you want?” Jongdae barks as soon as the door reveals Sehun standing awkwardly in the corridor. The thing about Sehun is that his strong and magnetic aura also comes with shyness, and his slender body with an adorable lisp when he gets nervous. He's a walking paradox, a complex mix of awkward and dangerously sexy, and the whole band has grown used to it, but it's still as funny as it was during Sehun’s first days in EXO, to watch some fans stumble and lose their composure in front of the enigma that is Oh Sehun. His hypnotizing aura was probably the reason why he got accepted so easily by their hardcore fans when he became a regular member of EXO.
Sehun raises a bottle of wine between their faces as an explanation, but Jongdae's eyes remain glued to Sehun's face, looking for signs of guilt. He isn't exactly sure why, but he wants Sehun to apologize. Something tells him that it would make the exhaustion fade away better than the ten hours of sleep he'll never have anyway.
"You know," Sehun breaks the silence, still holding the bottle between the two of them. "Junmyeon hyung yelled at the security guards after you left. You should have seen it, that tiny piece of man terrorizing a whole bunch of giant muscular dudes. I think he made one of them cry, and I'm pretty sure the guy was strong enough to crush Junmyeon hyung's skull between his hands."
Sehun chuckles, and Jongdae almost joins him before remembering he's very angry at Sehun. He has no trouble picturing the scene, though. Junmyeon can be quite scary, and it's even more terrifying at first, because he really doesn't look like that kind of guy. Huge mistake, never think of Junmyeon as your innocent sweet typical cutie pie. There's a reason he has not gone crazy after almost eight years of working with EXO, after all.
Sehun's chuckles die out in the pale corridor. Jongdae can't stop staring at his eyes, his lips, his nose, although there's a voice in the back his mind that urges him to find something to say. He could grab the bottle and take Sehun into his room. They would talk, play guitar and sing, and it would end like it always does, with Jongdae wrapped up around Sehun's body and Sehun refusing to let him go. The idea is tempting and Jongdae realizes he's kind of scared of waking up alone, but he can't move, and the bottle of wine stays untouched by him.
"Come on, hyung. You can't still be angry about that. It was nothing, seriously, she wasn't even dangerous, I saw it right away. She was just...a little bit too excited, I guess."
“Yeah, I saw that. The kiss was pretty passionate.”
“Passionate? I don’t know if it’s the right word, hyung. She fucking sucked up all the saliva in my mouth.”
“Then why didn’t you push her away?” Jongdae blurts out, his voice still a bit strained.
Sehun doesn’t answer, watching him instead with furrowed brows and confusion written all over his face. His silence is even more irritating that his incessant babbling. It’s invisible, but tensed and electric, turning the storm that Jongdae is into a destructive tornado.
“Chanyeol was right. You enjoyed that fucking kiss, didn’t you?”
“I…I don’t understand… Are you mad at me?” Sehun looks at him like a puppy Jongdae just hit, but Jongdae isn’t going to let the younger fool him like that.
“No,” Jongdae shouts. “Why would I be angry, Sehun? Why?!”
There isn’t any silence this time, only the sound of Jongdae’s furious breathing as he clenches his fists. He really isn’t mad at Sehun, he’s just tired and irritated, and there’s no way Sehun is going to believe him if Jongdae keeps opening his mouth before closing it almost right away, swallowing down furious reproaches. Time plays against him, at least it feels like so, because Sehun’s eyes darken with every second passing by. When the guitarist finally opens his mouth again, Jongdae isn’t sure who the storm is anymore.
“Is this about us?” Sehun questions with authority, stopping Jongdae from looking away just with the way his eyes shoot daggers at him. “Because if it is, then fuck you, Jongdae. You were the one who kept saying it was just a stress reliever. You have no right to be jealous, you hear me?” Sehun breathes heavily before adding. “And who the fuck calls sex a ‘stress reliever’ anyway? That's just fucking stupid!”
Sehun’s words don’t hurt Jongdae, because he’s too far gone for his brain to really register them. He shoves Sehun away, his hands burning on the younger’s chest, and forgets to breathe, to blink, he forgets everything. He just knows that he hates Sehun, he hates him so much, and he wants him gone.
“There isn’t any ‘us’! There’s just you, and me, okay?! Now, get the hell out of here, and take your disgusting Japanese wine with you!”
Sehun grits his teeth, his eyes now cold and opaque, before throwing the bottle away. The guitarist doesn’t react when the glass smashes, leaving a purple stain on the ivory wall that blossoms until it reaches the floor.
“Fuck you.”
Jongdae doesn’t wait for Sehun to disappear at the end of the corridor. He rushes back into the shelter of his room, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest via his mouth, taking with it his lungs and everything that could make Jongdae think he isn’t actually empty. Jongdae doesn’t make that mistake, though, he barely makes three steps before collapsing on the floor. The surface is cold and hard, but the bed is too far away, and all the energy Jongdae had is being drained from his body by the burning tears on his cheeks. He clenches his fists and hits the floor as hard as he can, wincing after at the pain. It’s stupid, he’s stupid, the whole thing is stupid, and it’s going to cost him more than he can afford. For now, though, he is just going to close his eyes and stay on the floor, as numb as possible.
He’s woken up a couple of hours later by his phone. He drags it to his ear and Junmyeon’s sweet voice asks him softly if Jongdae wants to explain why there is wine everywhere on the wall next to his room. Jongdae stays silent, and Junmyeon understands -he always does. His voice is even sweeter when he finally asks if Jongdae needs something. Jongdae considers asking him to come so he can help him to get to bed, because his whole body hurts, but he realizes that he kind of likes it down here. He says no.
Junmyeon understands, of course, and the door opens quietly.
part ii >>
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jongdae/Sehun, mention of past!Chanyeol/Baekhyun, slightly jongdae centric
Wordcount: ~23k
Warning: Slight mention of drug use, alcohol, language
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Note: Wowowowo! I've made a playlist, how cool is that? And if you need some rockband!au feels, i suggest you to go right here.
Summary: Jongdae has his face in every girl's room - albums, posters, magazines- and he's used to being out of reach. At least, that's what he likes to tell himself, because it turns out that, somewhere along the way, Sehun already caught him.
Author's note: It's all Alina's fault, because she made an edit, and I already had some strong feels from Jongdae's solo, and then Die Jungs came out and ;; Anyway, Alina, I'm pretty sure this is not what you expected, but I really hope you'll like it because i'm super nervous!! (please don't hate me okay?)
Also I'd like to thank E for beta-ing this whole mess, props to her! Last, but not least, thank you C, my fftwin, because you helped me so much and without you, that fic wouldn't be. I'll try my best for your chanbaek sequel ♥
Jongdae's vision is filled with black smoke, and it burns his lungs in the softest way. Maybe he shouldn't breathe anymore, because the smoke paints the back of his throat like poison, and he'll have to dig out his vocal cords from under the ashes for the next gig. It's been a long time since Jongdae last thought about consequences though, the 'living in the moment' philosophy taking the best of him. Maybe it was in the pact with the devil he may have signed when he was too high on dreams and weed, he thinks. Something obviously took him here, and he begins to doubt his talent is the reason. If this is true, then the Devil is a real thing, and Jongdae is totally fucked because the black smoke comes with numerous sins. At least he's enjoying the ride (and he thinks that maybe it will lead him to the VIP seat in hell). He tries to imagine how the VIP lounge looks like in the dark pit, and chuckles.
"What's so funny?" Sehun asks with a hoarse voice, as a fragile filament of black smoke escapes from his mouth. Jongdae runs the tip of his tongue across his upper lip as he watches Sehun's mouth, tempting and pink, as if he didn't just smoke dozens of cigarettes.
"Nothing," he answers and Sehun smiles.
Jongdae stays still as Sehun crushes his cigarette butt in the ashtray before putting his hand back on the neck of his acoustic guitar. His slender fingers dance across the frets, pressing a couple of notes here and there, before positioning themselves, and Jongdae hears the chord resonating in his chest a few seconds before Sehun strums it. The melody is unfamiliar and the strumming pattern is as good as it always is with Sehun-- and if Jongdae didn't know him any better he would think Sehun actually wrote the song before letting him hear it. But Jongdae has known him for years, and it's more than enough to not question Sehun's ability to give sense to music anymore. Sehun understands how everything works, he understands what would make a great verse and how every song is different but always quite the same in the end, and that's why he's a great musician. Music can't be explained but only understood, and if you don't speak its language, there's no way you can learn it. The black smoke may be burying Jongdae and Sehun's souls under layers of ashes, but both of them were born with a gift and it's still there, cleaning the burnt lining of their lungs every day. Jongdae closes his eyes, still spread out on his hotel room's floor, and listens to Sehun's little improvisation. They wrote two songs already, but his mind still fills up with lyrics and melodies that would sound perfect with Sehun's guitar as a background. This one could be about freedom and black smoke, since Jongdae figured out some times ago that both were intimately related (he doesn't understand why, though, he keeps picturing Sehun's pale face in the music video they could shoot for the song).
"And...just there, Chanyeol's solo guitar." Sehun's voice his barely louder than his guitar, but Jongdae hears him perfectly fine.
He holds his breath as Sehun's wrist breaks the dull atmosphere into powerful shots of pure adrenaline with rhythmic strumming. Chanyeol would love the breaks in the melody, the speed of the succession of the power chords, but most of all he would definitely put one of his brilliant solos there. They've all worked long enough together for Jongdae to be able to guess how things will go: Sehun will play his new song and Chanyeol will hop up and down with excitement, mouth already full of suggestions and fingers itching to give birth to another mind blowing solo. Jongin will think for a few minutes, sometimes breaking his silence to try something on the drums, before finally saying something like "how great would that be if I mainly played this song on the cymbals?"; and Tao will lazily grab his bass guitar while rolling his eyes in the back of his head, as if the song wasn't that great. Jongdae will come up with lyrics full of imagery that, without him knowing why, will remind him of Sehun's eyes, heavy with eyeliner, and sharp collarbones. Their last single gave a strange feeling, at least it did for Jongdae, and it almost had a smell, oddly similar to the scent of Sehun's skin when he wears his worn-out leather pants. Jongdae doesn't question it anymore, he doesn't care where his inspiration comes from, because knowing their songs are top ranked in every Asian country is the only answer he needs.
Sehun ends the song, suddenly, but Jongdae's veins still throb with a little more than just blood. The feeling is everything familiar but still so new, to the point where he wonders if he's made of more music than blood. He likes it, though, not knowing which parts of him are purely human and which are the ones he gives in to their songs. The black smoke still weighs on his lungs but Jongdae feels immortal. They all do.
"You want another beer?" Sehun asks as he pushes his guitar away. Jongdae shakes his head and reaches out to grab the instrument, but Sehun stops his hand midway.
"It was a great composition,” Jongdae says with a smirk as Sehun's fingers work their way in the space between his.
"Of course, it was." Sehun's eyes are filled with self-importance and something else that burns Jongdae way more than the smoke. He pretends that his heart isn't aching with impatience and plays along.
"So what? You want a medal or something? It wasn't that great, Oh Sehun, keep your feet--"
His last words drown in the rush of adrenaline Sehun's free hand injects through his body when it sneaks under his tank top, directly on his stomach. Jongdae's breath hitches as Sehun's fingers follow the muscles around his navel. His palm is hot, terribly hot, against Jongdae's skin, and the latter realizes how cold his whole body is. He leans into the touch but keeps his playful smirk on as Sehun's eyes darken. Jongdae watches the younger leaning down, and shudders when Sehun licks his lips. God, he hates that fucking habit of his, and at the same time, he kind of wants Sehun to use his tongue a little more.
"What if I do, Jongdae?" Jongdae gulps when he hears his name and instinctively grabs Sehun's shoulder. Sehun may be the embodiment of sex, he still calls his elders hyung, and most of the time, it's funny as hell to laugh at him for that -rock’n’roll my ass, Chanyeol mocks him every time- but since Jongdae has found out about the other side of Sehun's manners, he doesn't laugh that much anymore. The fucker knows what he's doing.
"What if I do want that medal, uh? Will you give it to me?" Sehun adds, his face dangerously close. Jongdae squirms as Sehun's fingers slightly brush against his nipple. They fooled around enough for Sehun to not be tricked by Jongdae's playing anymore, but Jongdae still pretends that he doesn't desperately need Sehun body against his.
"I'm flattered, Sehun, that you consider me like your trophy. Am I such a good fuck that you--"
Sehun's mouth is on his, shutting Jongdae down and forcing him to swallow his smirk, and it's so easy that it's unfair. Jongdae could push him away, he could struggle, but Sehun's tongue is running along the curve of his lips, and it's easier to let him in. He doesn't give up without a good fight though, and goes to grab a handful of Sehun's hair at the back of his head. He pulls it and Sehun bites his lip for revenge. The kiss is messy and they're fighting for dominance, but Sehun still steals the oxygen from Jongdae's lungs, and soon, the latter doesn't mind the ferrous taste Sehun's tongue is leaving in his mouth anymore.
Sehun straddles him but the change of posture forces him to break the kiss. Jongdae takes advantage of it to fill his lungs again, but he lets all the oxygen out in faint moans when Sehun's fingers follow the ridges of his ribs. Jongdae's body grows longer under Sehun's touch and his hands grow desperate; it takes him less than a second to get Sehun's tank top out of the way. The white expanse of milky skin is almost painful for him (or maybe it's the way Sehun's fingers dig their way on his sides, leaving behind them red scratches that will disappear too soon) but he's too eager to mind the way it burns his retinas. Jongdae wants more-- needs more and he makes sure that Sehun feels it when he grabs the younger's hips to slide their still-clothed crotches together. The way Sehun moans is almost obscene, his swollen lips as pink as they always are, and he looks so young, so naïve that Jongdae would stop if he didn't know any better. Sehun tastes like heaven but Jongdae knows better than anyone else that he's actually built for sin.
Jongdae straightens up, just enough to force Sehun back into another kiss. This time, he's the one invading the other’s mouth, his whole body pulsating with want and need and more, please more. Sehun's hands rush to undo his belt but Jongdae stays in control. He maps Sehun's mouth with the tip of his tongue and swallows the other's low moans as his nails press red crescents on Sehun's skin. The guitarist tastes like the dozens of cigarettes he smoked and the many beers he gulped down, but Jongdae knows this taste-- he has the same one lingering in the back of his throat-- and it's not what he wants. Sehun is burning on the back of his tongue, intoxicating but addictive, and Jongdae grabs his face to deepen their kiss. His own whimper dies, curling around Sehun's tongue when the latter's hand disappears down his pants, but as much as Jongdae wants to breathe, he is not going to break the kiss. He needs to taste Sehun and not the black smoke that still lingers in the air around them. They decided that it would be their stress reliever when it first happened at one of the many after-parties they attend to, and somewhere along the way, Jongdae has grown addicted to the taste of Sehun, and he wants it now. He wants something else than what he can already have in the daylight, and he knows Sehun is his answer.
So Jongdae takes his time, his fingers buried in Sehun's bleached hair, to lick his mouth clean. Maybe it's a lost cause, maybe they're both too burnt to be something other than ashes but Jongdae is not going to give up. He doesn't know if it's hope, if he's just caught up in one of those fucked up metaphors about life, and if he's actually just trying to prove himself he can be cleaned too, but it doesn't matter in the end. Sehun resonates like another addiction through his whole body, and Jongdae doubts that this is the way of redemption, but he's already doomed so he surrenders easily.
He is fully seated, with Sehun's skinny legs wrapped around his waist, both of their shirts on the bedroom's floor and their pants unbuttoned, when the taste of freedom finally blossoms on the tip of his tongue. Jongdae's fierce fight comes to an end, and if the black spots caused by the lack of oxygen that fill his vision when he breaks the kiss are any indication, it's about time. When he breathes in, Sehun's taste lingers in his mouth, stronger than smoke, as it always is.
"Jongdae..." Sehun softly moans right into his ear when Jongdae's fingers go past the waistband of his underwear. Jongdae watches him through his lashes and Sehun meets his gaze, eyes heavy with lust. He doesn't move though, and Jongdae almost feels uncomfortable when the silence draws out. Lately, and more often than not, Sehun would look at him with questioning eyes as if he was asking for permission. The fact that Jongdae is willingly giving him a hand job should be enough of an answer, but Sehun's eyes still stay fixated on his, looking for something Jongdae isn't even sure he has. He squirms uncomfortably under the heavy gaze and pulls out his hand from Sehun's underwear to grab his hips. He tips him over and runs away from the silent question in Sehun's eyes by leaning down to suck purple flowers on his collarbones. Sehun only wears shirts with collars way too low for his own good, and Jongdae always makes sure the bruises show, because he loves seeing fangirls squeal with excitement. The faint tension in Sehun's body finally fades away and soon enough, his hands are back on Jongdae's back as he gives in to Jongdae's mouth on his body.
Jongdae crumbles away under Sehun's touch, but he makes sure to bring a ruined Sehun down with him. When Sehun sits him on his lap, Jongdae wraps his legs around the younger's pointy hips with so much strength that Sehun's bones feel like knives tearing his thighs apart; he could probably choke him if his hands weren't buried deep in bleached hair, nails scratching against Sehun's scalp. He should be used to the burning slide of their bodies together by now, but it still catches him off-guard almost painfully, the friction drives him crazy, and he urges Sehun to bite him hard enough to draw blood when the musician nips the sensitive skin of his neck. The tension hurts, but nothing hurts more than Sehun all over his body-- and that's exactly how Jongdae wants it-- so when he finally explodes, he lets out the pain and the desperate need for Sehun in a silent moan that burns more than all the smoke he's ever breathed in. Sehun drowns his own climax in Jongdae's hair while keeping him pressed against his chest, close to his heart.
They pass out on the hotel room's floor, bodies still tangled, as dawn's first rays of light shyly reveal the bruises blooming on their skins.
Sometimes, when Jongdae sees the reflection of his body in the mirror after one of their nights together, he wonders if what he's doing with Sehun is really fucking, because he looks like he's finally paying for all the bad things he's done. Sehun is blooming all over his skin, in teeth marks and burning nail scratches, and Jongdae would be afraid if he wasn't used to bruises and muscular ache, but more importantly, if he didn't want it. He likes waking up to the burning pain of stiffness, especially when he can't say if the pain comes from Sehun or the adrenaline of being on stage the day before. It's much better than waking up, cold and alone, and knowing that it's your dream, and your dream only, that's wearing your body down to the core, and hurts so much.
“EXO! EXO! EXO! EXO!”
Jongdae closes his eyes to try and erase the loud cheering from his mind. When he and Chanyeol first came up with the name of their future band, it sounded so much different in their mouths, and he clearly remembers spending the night after in Baekhyun’s cellar, repeating the name endlessly while pretending to rehearse. It was what feels like centuries ago, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Jongdae still can say without any doubt what song they were rehearsing, and what were the lyrics he wrote that night, he would probably think the memory was some kind of recollection from one of his past lives. He misses the nights spent wide awake in his bed, the litany of exo, exo, exo, exo, exo, exo coming from his mouth as the only sound in the sleepy silence. Everything is so different now, and the crowd he can’t see -but still can hear- screaming for him, for the whole band, makes him want to throw up.
Someone grabs Jongdae’s shoulder and the latter knows who dares before even turning to face the intruder. They’ve been traveling with the same crew for several years now, and the roadies know better than disturbing the great Kim Jongdae before a show; but he’s known Chanyeol since their kindergarten days, and the kid still doesn’t know when he’s invading Jongdae’s personal space.
Chanyeol’s wide grin gets on Jongdae’s nerves, just as much as the incessant recital of EXO on the other side, and he has to resist the urge to punch Chanyeol in the throat.
“What?” he barks and Chanyeol raises an eyebrow.
“Nervous, I see.”
Chanyeol doesn’t make the job easier for Jongdae, the latter having about a dozens of way to make the giant dumbass suffer flashing through his mind in less than one second, so he glares at his best friend and turns away to take another look at the stage, not trusting himself enough to actually answer. From where he’s standing, he can see Sehun’s spot at the opposite, his favorite Gibson carefully tuned and waiting to be picked up for their first song. Just a couple of feet on the left stands his microphone stand, and Jongdae really shouldn’t be estimating how many steps it will take him to get there, because his stomach is dangerously turning. The tension in his back is so strong that Jongdae feels like crumbling down when Chanyeol throws his arms around his shoulder, but Jongdae doesn’t push him away anyway.
“We’re ready,” Chanyeol reassures him. “Everything is gonna be just fine. You’re gonna be great, as usual.”
Jongdae tears his gaze away from the stage to look up at EXO’s guitar solo prodigy. Park Chanyeol, in all his glory, is still taller than him, but his face isn’t as chubby as it was when they created EXO after watching a Guns’n Roses show on TV. His wide eyes are underlined with faded eyeliner, and his hair is a messy explosion of red locks, but his smile hasn't changed for a bit. Chanyeol is still the same, even in the way he moves his lips as the talks, the bastard didn’t even get all skinny and bony, like Jongdae. The latter can’t suppress the sting of jealousy, because after all these years, Chanyeol is still joyful and full of confidence, and Jongdae is as deadly nervous before every show as he was when they debuted years ago.
“You think?” Jongdae finally asks in a whisper as he drives his gaze back to the stage. He feels more than he sees Chanyeol’s furious nodding next to him.
“As usual,” his best friend retorts with a hint of impatience in his voice.
The adrenaline is already rushing into Jongdae’s veins too, the spotlights are suddenly turned off on stage, and he knows it’s their signal. Soon, he’ll be standing next to his microphone stand, facing a hundred of people that came to see them perform, and he’ll remember how he actually loves to hear them screaming their band’s name, because it’s the only thing that makes sense. For now though, Jongdae feels like there are thousand burning needles piercing his internal organs, and soon, he’ll be choking on his own blood. Chanyeol squeezes his shoulder before letting him go, and there is something about the simple pressure that keeps Jongdae together. The sting of jealousy is long gone, replaced by an overwhelming relief, because there’s a reason that Chanyeol is the only guy allowed to come near Jongdae before a show, and Jongdae thanks the lord-- or whoever-- every night when he realizes the reason proves to still be true.
One of the technicians raises his hands towards them, and Jongdae instinctively counts how many fingers are up. Ten. Ten seconds.
“Guys,” Chanyeol begins as Sehun, Tao and Jongin gather around them. “They paid to see us.”
Jongdae’s eyes meet Sehun’s on their way to the roadie’s hands. Nine.
“They waited for us all day long.”
Sehun doesn’t blink and neither does Jongdae. The adrenaline is almost painful in his chest, begging him to use it, tickling his leg muscles to make him jump. The taste of all the honey sweet tea he gulped down to ease his vocal cords is stronger than before.
“They probably buy our albums, they know the lyrics of our songs by heart.” Chanyeol’s voice is serious and low, like it always is before every show. Jongdae is kind of a leader for EXO but Chanyeol is always doing the you-better-move-your-ass-on-that-freaking-stage-or-I’ll-sit-on-your-instrument speech.
Jongdae’s eyes are glued to Sehun’s, and Chanyeol’s solemn tone drowns in the litany of EXO and in the black of Sehun’s irises. Jongdae’s skin itches with electricity. He wants to listen to Chanyeol, he wants to hear the passion burning behind his words and see the excitation blowing his pupils wild, but he can’t tear his gaze away from Sehun. There’s a ghost of a smirk on the younger’s pink lips and before Jongdae even has to wonder, Sehun mouths a silent ‘zero’.
The crowd is hyper and they all go wild when EXO comes up on stage. Jongdae doesn’t belong to himself anymore, and he makes sure to blow into so many pieces that everyone will be able to bring home a part of him tonight. They're going to spend the next two hours trying to bring the show to its zenith, using everything they can, from the instruments they master to their sweaty bodies, while making sure to take the whole crowd with them. Their blood turns into adrenaline, so pure, that a heart attack is probably lurking from where it soaks straight into their hearts, and sometimes, when he's out of breath, Jongdae feels it squeezing his heart. He's not the typical rock star who takes shots of heroin for breakfast, but in those moments, he knows that it won't change a thing in the end. He'll probably die on stage, a high note stuck in the back of his throat and the shadow of a climax he'll never reach in his eyes. The atmosphere is so wild, so surreal that Jongdae used to think it was all a dream back in the days, but hundreds of shows later, it feels more real than reality itself, while the dream is when the show comes to an end. He'd sell his soul to live a never-ending gig with a crowd like that one, and if it had to make his heart explode in his chest, then so be it. Jongdae would give a lot to go out with a loud bang rather than with an unnoticed whimper, and it turns out that after the peak, there's only the free fall-- bone-crushing withdrawal of adrenaline-- and none of them has learned to land on their feet yet. Jongdae feels more alive on stage than anywhere else. He knows they all do, this is where they belong.
They're past the middle of the set list when Jongin, high on power and wild screams, decides to improvise an impressive solo on the drums. Sehun grabs another silver guitar pick from the microphone stand they've been glued to, and put his right feet on one of the many amps at the front of the stage. Screams get wilder but Sehun's face remains neutral as he easily jumps into Jongin's rhythmic with heavy power chords and fast slides on the neck of his guitar. Tao is the next one to join, soon followed by Chanyeol who makes his old guitar-- his very first one that he just grabbed from the corner of the stage-- scream. Jongdae watches the ocean of manic humans before him, and it takes him a moment to realize he's as excited as them because of the music taking over his body. He feels something big that’s growing even larger in his chest and he feels the electricity and the power eating him alive as he tightens his hold around his microphone until his knuckles turn white. He finally lets all the tension out in a long, powerful high note. The blood is rushing to his ears and the oxygen is leaving his body but Jongdae keeps singing, falsetto stable and clear. He sings the note until it sucks him dry and he finds himself spread out on the dusty floor of the stage. Breathing hurts and there are black holes in the corners of his vision but, fuck it, he feels so alive and whole, clean of all the black smoke. He's been torn into so many pieces, but he doesn't care, because everyone in the crowd is giving him back way more than what he'd never be. The song ends in an explosion of screams and pure perfection, and Jongdae laughs as he raises his microphone to his lips.
"Scream for me, Osaka!"
And Osaka screams, so loud that he fears his eardrums may burst.
Tao gives him a hand to help him back up on his feet and Jongdae is blinded by the smile on the younger's lips. He figures out he probably has the same because Tao squeezes him in a quick hug. Jongdae throws an arm around his waist to keep him by his side as he finally faces the crowd again.
"The next song is one of our first singles," he announces in the microphone, and he sees the faces of the people in the first row lighten up. He already hears the title of their first high ranked song screamed through the whole venue. The ever-growing crack in his heart broadens a little more, but Jongdae keeps smiling. He needs to suck it up, they can't not play the song, not when it has become such a key song in their careers, and it's time for him to get used to it.
He lets go of Tao and raises his free hand up in the air.
"UPRISING!!"
His voice echoes all around him before disappearing into the intro EXO's musicians are now playing. Uprising hasn't changed much since that night in Baekhyun's cellar, sometimes they tweak it a bit to get rid of the dreariness of playing it almost every day, but the lyrics are the same and the melody sounds exactly like it did. It's the only song they kept from a time when EXO had only three members (it didn't last long though, because the day after, Jongdae, Baekhyun and Chanyeol were rushing to Jongin's house with eyes filled with dreams) and years later, only two of them are still performing it. Jongdae closes his eyes and lets the music, the screams and the artificial lights that break through his eyelids, take over him. Wondering if Tao, Jongin and Chanyeol suddenly feel as small and vulnerable as him costs him too much, and he doesn't need this, not when Uprising's lyrics rush to his head a few seconds before he opens his mouth to sing.
When they finally hit the bridge, Jongdae is next to Sehun. The guitarist has that aura-- like the air around him is thicker, so thick that it obstructs all the external noise, and Jongdae sinks in another world where even his thoughts are completely shut down-- that feels even stronger every time they perform Uprising. It’s not the first time Jongdae finds himself by his side during the song, but he never fights it. He thinks that a part of him, more or less important, evaluates Sehun as a neutral ground where it’s safe to stand, so he lets himself go.
Jongdae is busy grabbing and touching all the hands offered to him when the crowd evades his control. He frowns and turns his head back to the rest of his members, supposing that one of them is the reason behind the shriller screams and high-pitched shouts of envy. What he was expecting, though, was more something like Tao taking off his jacket with one of his famous sex faces, or even Chanyeol showing off his glorious guns; but not, in any case a still-playing Sehun being furiously kissed by some hysteric girl. She wears an EXO shirt, Jongdae notices, because he’d rather look at the silver logo than look at her pushing her tongue deep in Sehun’s throat. He also notes that Sehun’s fingers keep sliding on his guitar’s frets with ease, and that his wrist doesn’t make a slight mistake in the rhythmic when Jongdae was waiting for them to push the girl away. In the end, it’s one of the vigils that grabs her, and usually Jongdae is pretty protective with their fans -even the crazier ones- but now he kind of wishes the guy would just throw her away in the over-excited pit as a sacrifice for all the jealous fangirls. The security guard drags the girl out of the stage, where the song still keeps going. Tao is laughing his ass off, Jongin rolls his eyes in the back of his head and Chanyeol winks at some random girl -who will probably dream of her own miraculous breakthrough to the stage and to Chanyeol’s lips tonight- and Sehun… Sehun licks his lips, his eyes slowly turning to crescents, as he finally turns toward Tao, laughter drowned in the music but still pretty evident on his face. Jongdae sees red, and he burns hotter and hotter and hotter and hotter.
“What the fuck was that?!”
Jongdae’s voice is strained from all the singing, and he already feels his vocal cords aching after the way he pushed on them. He hit notes he shouldn’t even have tried to hit, but he had so much energy and adrenaline he really needed to get rid of. It didn’t work that well, obviously, seeing how he is now furiously glaring at everyone backstage. Jongin wipes away the sweat from his face with one of the towels they’ve been given before raising an eyebrow at him. Jongdae is about to tell him to fuck off with his stupid face when Tao gives him a powerful slap on the back, making him choke on his own words.
“Damn, Jongdae, you were crazy tonight! You practically made the show on your own. I swear dude, I felt useless.”
Jongdae eludes another pat on his back, eyes scanning the whole place, looking for his scapegoat. He clenches his jaw when he sees Sehun and Chanyeol walking towards them, and he feels so hot he’s sure the blood in his veins is boiling.
“Where the fuck is Junmyeon?!” he shouts, and the pleasure flashing through him when he catches sight of Chanyeol and Sehun looking at him with surprise isn’t nearly enough to calm him.
Kim Junmyeon, EXO’s manager since their very first contract -he had quit his job at their first company to stay with them when they all left (because the company wanted more ‘trendy’ songs)- but more importantly, one of their closest friends, takes his work seriously. So when he hears his name, he rushes to the singer, grabbing everything he think might help on his way there. When he finally stops before Jongdae, his arms are full of water bottles, towels, mineral water sprays and jackets.
“What? What is it? What’s happening?” Junmyeon asks with alarmed eyes.
“What is happening?” Jongdae mimics, harsher than what he was first aiming for. Before he feels guilty though, Chanyeol and Sehun stop next to them, and Jongdae is back at being a time bomb ready to explode.
“Didn’t you see what happened on that stage, Junmyeon?!” His voice cracks with that stupid high-pitched tone he can’t help but have when he’s angry. Junmyeon winces and shyly raises a bottle of water towards him.
“You really shouldn’t scream, Jongdae, your voice--”
“Yeah, and more importantly, you’re getting on my nerves, Jongdae.” Chanyeol completes with dark eyes, his tone low and imposing. Being Jongdae’s childhood friend doesn’t only bring advantages, but it still gives him the ability to feel Jongdae’s tantrums coming, and even if, most of the time, Chanyeol chooses the safer decision -flee to save his skin- there are times like these when he steps in the game and tries to neutralize Jongdae.
Jongdae, though, isn’t ready to let go, and he won’t let Chanyeol shut him down so easily. He thinks he has all the rights to be angry, and fuck, if he wants to scream, then he’s going to scream.
“That’s all you have to say? I mean, a crazy girl manages to go up on stage, and your reaction is just ‘shut up Jongdae’? What if Sehun had been hurt? What if she had wanted to harm him? Or any of us?”
Tao and Jongin exchange a look before eyeing Jongdae as if he was crazy, but Jongdae really couldn’t care less. He wants to find someone to blame, he wants all of his members to be just as furious as he is, so he won’t have to wonder, or even think about the burning rage in his veins tomorrow. Instead of that, there are five dumbfounded guys staring at him, adding fuel to the fire Jongdae already is. At this stage, it seems like the only thing that will eventually help him calm down, is sacrificing himself that stupid girl. Who knows where that hysteric tongue vacuum is now, so Jongdae will have to make do with his second best choice: picking on the weakest of the pack.
“Seriously, Junmyeon-”
“It’s hyung for you, Jongdae.” Chanyeol thunders but Jongdae ignores him with brio.
“-imagine if she had had a gun hidden? Going down in history is great, but not like Pantera did, with a shot and killed guitarist on stage.”
“Please,” Chanyeol mocks him, before pointing at a confused Sehun -not that Jongdae is looking at him, because he’s afraid he’ll break his fingers if he did. “Does Sehun seem traumatized to you? The girl probably has his face everywhere in her bedroom. She just saw a chance to kiss wonderful and sexy Oh Sehun, and she did it, that’s all. And if I remember well, Sehun liked it.”
Jongdae’s heart beats faster than ever, so fast that it burns down every ounce of power and energy his body still has. He feels it pumping in his legs, at the tip of his fingers and even in the small of his back, and for a second, it feels like his whole body revolves around this complex set of cardiac muscles, veins, arteries and valves. It takes so much space in his chest’s cavity that it crushes his lungs, stopping Jongdae from breathing. The atmosphere gets heavier, so much heavier that it could crush Chanyeol as if he were an ant -and Jongdae wishes it would.
Sehun awkwardly clears his throat.
“I’m sorry for what happened, Jongdae,” Junmyeon hesitantly intervenes, his eyes going back and forth between Chanyeol and Jongdae. “I’ll strengthen security for the next show, and it won’t happen again, okay?”
“Yes, please,” Jongdae snaps, still facing Chanyeol and fighting the urge to punch him. “And you,” he adds to the giant dumbass. “You’re an asshole.”
Chanyeol shrugs as one of his stupid smiles takes up three quarters of his face, and Jongdae takes it as his cue to leave. He can’t look at Chanyeol without dreaming of murdering him, but most of all, it’s Sehun’s presence that gets to him the most. Jongdae can hear him breathing and the deep, regular sound makes his skin itch almost painfully. He feels betrayed, because Sehun was the one who got attacked but he still stayed silent during the whole fight, not even helping Jongdae out. Flashes of slender fingers sliding on a guitar’s neck go through Jongdae’s mind, along with crescent eyes and pink moist lips. He feels himself falling into an endless urge of burning, wants to hit and punch, and the only thing that keeps him from getting completely toasted by his anger is Chanyeol’s voice, once again resonating annoyingly in his head.
“Jongdae? I said, ‘Do you want to come drink a beer or two somewhere?’”
Jongdae feels Sehun’s eyes, heavy on him, and it makes him fall faster.
“Fuck off,” he retorts to Chanyeol, but when he turns on his heels and walks away, the only thing he actually wonders is if Sehun got splashed by his anger too.
He hopes he did.
Jongdae's vision is filled with black smoke, and it burns his lungs in the most painful way. He keeps breathing, though, because when the smoke penetrates his body, it covers everything with a thick layer of ashes, hiding the tiredness and the way his body suffers from it. Sometimes, when Jongdae feels like the damages are too important to still be ignored, he pictures black unguent filling up the holes, noxious and impenetrable shield against what can still harm him. He’s not even sure why he feels so tired all of a sudden, he just knows that his limbs are heavier than ever and that a plain hotel bed never looked more appealing to him. Tours are exhausting, and he supposes that it’s just the consequences of their Japanese one finally catching up with him.
The cigarette dies between his lips, but Jongdae keeps its butt between his teeth. He doesn’t want to move, and he figures that, with the cigarette being out, he finally can fall asleep and, who knows, never wake up again. He liked it better when he was angry, even if he was just burning energy he didn’t really have, because at least he was still able to stand on his own two feet. He thinks about the texts Chanyeol sent him a couple of hours earlier and considers calling him to ask him to come. Seeing Chanyeol’s stupid face will, for sure, rekindle the anger, but that would also mean letting the peaceful silence go, and Jongdae isn’t ready for it.
Unfortunately, when he feels his eyelids finally getting heavier, there’s a sharp knock on his door, jerking him back to reality. No need to wonder who is on the other side of the door, because Jongdae only knows one person who knocks like that -short and abrupt, as if he needs to force himself while creating that stupid need Jongdae now has to see his face. He throws the cigarette butt away and drags himself to the door.
“What do you want?” Jongdae barks as soon as the door reveals Sehun standing awkwardly in the corridor. The thing about Sehun is that his strong and magnetic aura also comes with shyness, and his slender body with an adorable lisp when he gets nervous. He's a walking paradox, a complex mix of awkward and dangerously sexy, and the whole band has grown used to it, but it's still as funny as it was during Sehun’s first days in EXO, to watch some fans stumble and lose their composure in front of the enigma that is Oh Sehun. His hypnotizing aura was probably the reason why he got accepted so easily by their hardcore fans when he became a regular member of EXO.
Sehun raises a bottle of wine between their faces as an explanation, but Jongdae's eyes remain glued to Sehun's face, looking for signs of guilt. He isn't exactly sure why, but he wants Sehun to apologize. Something tells him that it would make the exhaustion fade away better than the ten hours of sleep he'll never have anyway.
"You know," Sehun breaks the silence, still holding the bottle between the two of them. "Junmyeon hyung yelled at the security guards after you left. You should have seen it, that tiny piece of man terrorizing a whole bunch of giant muscular dudes. I think he made one of them cry, and I'm pretty sure the guy was strong enough to crush Junmyeon hyung's skull between his hands."
Sehun chuckles, and Jongdae almost joins him before remembering he's very angry at Sehun. He has no trouble picturing the scene, though. Junmyeon can be quite scary, and it's even more terrifying at first, because he really doesn't look like that kind of guy. Huge mistake, never think of Junmyeon as your innocent sweet typical cutie pie. There's a reason he has not gone crazy after almost eight years of working with EXO, after all.
Sehun's chuckles die out in the pale corridor. Jongdae can't stop staring at his eyes, his lips, his nose, although there's a voice in the back his mind that urges him to find something to say. He could grab the bottle and take Sehun into his room. They would talk, play guitar and sing, and it would end like it always does, with Jongdae wrapped up around Sehun's body and Sehun refusing to let him go. The idea is tempting and Jongdae realizes he's kind of scared of waking up alone, but he can't move, and the bottle of wine stays untouched by him.
"Come on, hyung. You can't still be angry about that. It was nothing, seriously, she wasn't even dangerous, I saw it right away. She was just...a little bit too excited, I guess."
“Yeah, I saw that. The kiss was pretty passionate.”
“Passionate? I don’t know if it’s the right word, hyung. She fucking sucked up all the saliva in my mouth.”
“Then why didn’t you push her away?” Jongdae blurts out, his voice still a bit strained.
Sehun doesn’t answer, watching him instead with furrowed brows and confusion written all over his face. His silence is even more irritating that his incessant babbling. It’s invisible, but tensed and electric, turning the storm that Jongdae is into a destructive tornado.
“Chanyeol was right. You enjoyed that fucking kiss, didn’t you?”
“I…I don’t understand… Are you mad at me?” Sehun looks at him like a puppy Jongdae just hit, but Jongdae isn’t going to let the younger fool him like that.
“No,” Jongdae shouts. “Why would I be angry, Sehun? Why?!”
There isn’t any silence this time, only the sound of Jongdae’s furious breathing as he clenches his fists. He really isn’t mad at Sehun, he’s just tired and irritated, and there’s no way Sehun is going to believe him if Jongdae keeps opening his mouth before closing it almost right away, swallowing down furious reproaches. Time plays against him, at least it feels like so, because Sehun’s eyes darken with every second passing by. When the guitarist finally opens his mouth again, Jongdae isn’t sure who the storm is anymore.
“Is this about us?” Sehun questions with authority, stopping Jongdae from looking away just with the way his eyes shoot daggers at him. “Because if it is, then fuck you, Jongdae. You were the one who kept saying it was just a stress reliever. You have no right to be jealous, you hear me?” Sehun breathes heavily before adding. “And who the fuck calls sex a ‘stress reliever’ anyway? That's just fucking stupid!”
Sehun’s words don’t hurt Jongdae, because he’s too far gone for his brain to really register them. He shoves Sehun away, his hands burning on the younger’s chest, and forgets to breathe, to blink, he forgets everything. He just knows that he hates Sehun, he hates him so much, and he wants him gone.
“There isn’t any ‘us’! There’s just you, and me, okay?! Now, get the hell out of here, and take your disgusting Japanese wine with you!”
Sehun grits his teeth, his eyes now cold and opaque, before throwing the bottle away. The guitarist doesn’t react when the glass smashes, leaving a purple stain on the ivory wall that blossoms until it reaches the floor.
“Fuck you.”
Jongdae doesn’t wait for Sehun to disappear at the end of the corridor. He rushes back into the shelter of his room, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest via his mouth, taking with it his lungs and everything that could make Jongdae think he isn’t actually empty. Jongdae doesn’t make that mistake, though, he barely makes three steps before collapsing on the floor. The surface is cold and hard, but the bed is too far away, and all the energy Jongdae had is being drained from his body by the burning tears on his cheeks. He clenches his fists and hits the floor as hard as he can, wincing after at the pain. It’s stupid, he’s stupid, the whole thing is stupid, and it’s going to cost him more than he can afford. For now, though, he is just going to close his eyes and stay on the floor, as numb as possible.
He’s woken up a couple of hours later by his phone. He drags it to his ear and Junmyeon’s sweet voice asks him softly if Jongdae wants to explain why there is wine everywhere on the wall next to his room. Jongdae stays silent, and Junmyeon understands -he always does. His voice is even sweeter when he finally asks if Jongdae needs something. Jongdae considers asking him to come so he can help him to get to bed, because his whole body hurts, but he realizes that he kind of likes it down here. He says no.
Junmyeon understands, of course, and the door opens quietly.
part ii >>