Fic: Cruise Control
Title: Cruise Control
Category: Kpop (Big Bang)
Pairing(s): G-Dragon/Seungri, G-Dragon/T.O.P
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 4000
Summary: "In love, somehow, a man's heart is always either exceeding the speed limit, or getting parked in the wrong place."
Notes: AU - sequel to Momentum (unlocked for a week or so because I hate linking to locked entries).
Jiyong doesn't realize just how abysmally tired he is until he sinks into the bath, sliding down inch by slow inch until he's submerged up to his chin in steaming water. The heat eases tense muscles and soothes the ache in his limbs, and he lets his head loll back against the round lip of the tub. Hours of nonstop composing melt away. His gratified moan goes unappreciated in the hollow echo of the bathroom, reverberating off of tiles and glass.
He had a productive day, getting a good start on the new song - a brilliant song that he absolutely had to work on as soon as he got home. The music practically arranges itself. Easy enough, he supposes, with the right muse at the right time; characterized by some rough areas, some caution, someone classy but not quite polished, sleek and self-assured, yet malleable, experience at the fingertips that smooth over the inexperience just under the surface. The piece has a strong, tantalizing beat, perfect for dancing. Jiyong has it all composed in his head, has it imprinted on his body in bruises and soreness. It's a satisfying pain. Sometimes a good fuck really is the solution to one's problems. He'll call Youngbae later to tell him to forget about negotiating with the company - that other song is good (too good for the fucking Commission of Youth Protection), but this song will be phenomenal.
Jiyong closes his eyes and lets his hands drift in lazy, floating circles upon the water. The mild splashing is the only sound in the empty, steam-filled room, amazingly warm and reassuring. Blissfully quiet, a moment of calm - he's used to solitude, but unused to it. There's a difference on the other side of the globe, and a difference coming home. Tentatively, yes, he decides he can still call it home. It's taken him a while to realize that, to get past the feeling of being alone in a crowded room. For the first time since returning to Korea, he's wholly content.
The feeling lasts as long as the soak does, and admittedly, that's a while. The pads of his fingers have become all wrinkled by the time the water goes tepid enough to prompt him into movement, standing up where the air leaves cool kisses on his bare skin. Jiyong throws on a fluffy bathrobe and pulls the plug, allowing the water to rush down the drain with a thirsty gurgle. No sooner has he set a foot outside the bathroom than the knock comes at his door, a solid and well-known thump, steady one-two-three, pause.
Jiyong runs a hand through his damp hair, a look of consternation passing over his face before he approaches and answers the door. He doesn't need to check to see who's standing on the other side.
"Yo," Seunghyun greets, tilting the rim of his cap, his other hand gripping the strap of a backpack. "I tried calling, but you didn't pick up. Holed up again so soon?" His voice is teasing, and a myriad of other familiar things - casually sincere with affection adding lightness to his deep tones. Plus the beginnings of a smile; familiar, beloved, and dangerous. Jiyong returns the smile with a sense of self-preservation, but he's used to that.
"I was for most of the day," he admits, and glides away from the door, Seunghyun following with a raised brow of astonishment.
"G-Dragon is caving to the demands of the Commission?"
"I am doing no such thing," Jiyong denies with a scoff. "That song is meant to be the way I originally wrote it. If that won't fly, I'll just shelve it for now and give them something else."
More surprise, but with a different flavor. Admiration. Jiyong can't pretend he doesn't feel smug about it. "A completely new song? Will it be done in time?"
"Who do you think I am?" Jiyong fixes Seunghyun with a stare that would be much more effective if he was several inches taller, or at least broader.
Predictably, Seunghyun smirks (the superiority of height is but a paltry claim in the grand scheme of things, Jiyong is certain of this), and tousles Jiyong's hair like he's a kid. "Look at you, all grown up and behaving like an adult."
Jiyong swats the offending hand away in mock-irritation, like it's the jab at his maturity that annoys him and not the too-gentle touch. "If all you're going to do is insult me, maybe I'll kick you out."
On cue, Seunghyun goes suspiciously shifty. "Actually, uh, I was kind of hoping it would be okay to crash here for the night?" He offers a sheepish smile and shrugs the shoulder bearing the weight of his backpack.
Jiyong stares at him, expectant. Seunghyun continues to smile disarmingly.
The seconds tick by and Jiyong manages to venture, "Trouble in paradise?" He tries not to choke on the words and succeeds. He's had practice.
"Ah... Honestly, I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? How is that ambiguous?" Jiyong throws his hands up in the air, dramatic and distracted. "Have you been banished to the couch? Locked out? Or is Yoobin more of the passive-aggressive, veiled-comments type?"
"No, you see, there hasn't been a fight or anything." He takes one look at Jiyong's yes, and? expression, and has no choice but to plow on ahead. "Well, things have been tense, though. She has that concert coming up and rehearsals have been going late, and I'm pretty busy, too, so it's just...stressful around there, you know?"
Jiyong doesn't know, and he doesn't really want to know, but he can't seem to stop digging his own grave. "So basically, you ran away before the shit hit the fan."
"...Yes."
Jiyong bites his tongue to hold back the burning question: so does this mean the relationship is falling apart, or are you just being a disgustingly considerate boyfriend? He has no business asking that, none at all, and he can already deduce the answer by Seunghyun's grin, more embarrassed than guilty.
"Okay," Jiyong says, resigned. He's been resigned since the beginning, whether the beginning refers to Seunghyun knocking on his door or Jiyong's plane landing at Incheon International Airport - or further still, when Youngbae (the best friend of best friends in the world) asked him, bravely, "Then- Seunghyun-?" and Jiyong lied through his teeth that time, "Nah, not my type".
"Really?" Seunghyun asks with a cautious note buried in the word. Perhaps it's only politeness, but Jiyong has never figured out what Seunghyun thinks about them, this thing, if it's a thing to him at all. Years tend to change things, for some people anyway. Jiyong has never had courage enough to ask.
He crosses his arms, hands tucked beneath the soft folds of his bathrobe sleeves, and shrugs. "Yeah, why not? If you want to stay, you can stay." He's only somewhat prepared for the hug that comes, feeling a tightness inside his chest more than the physical pressure outside, and resigns himself to that, too.
"Thanks, I owe you one," Seunghyun says, too close for comfort, but Jiyong is tired so all he does is let his chin drop to rest on Seunghyun's shoulder. He tries not to dwell on the warm contentment spreading reluctantly through him. It takes so little, tactile and affectionate creature that he is.
"Please," Jiyong mutters. He thinks, treacherously, we're close enough to kiss. Jiyong let that happen once, a long time ago, under the pretense of awkward adolescence and a few drinks that were in no way legal, and he categorizes it as a one-time-only deal. Hopes for it, maybe, because that's how it should be. "What kind of asshole turns a friend away?"
"It's not like that. It's just... It's comfortable being around you."
Jiyong closes his eyes. Sometimes Choi Seunghyun is the worst thing in his life.
* * * * *
"So what did you think about the song?" Jiyong asks, phone to his ear while he rifles through his closet. The shirt he wants is in here somewhere, he knows it. He selects and discards on autopilot.
"You mean the one titled, 'I wrote this while sober'?" Jiyong can picture Youngbae's expression just by the way his voice inflects. The mental image makes him smile before replying with an insulted tone.
"That's not the title, it doesn't have a title yet," Jiyong scoffs and replaces another hanger, then hesitates meaningfully. "Although..."
"Don't," Youngbae pleads, laughing.
Jiyong grins. "Fine. I don't have lyrics for it yet, either." He momentarily abandons the search and sprawls backward on the bed. So he's lazy today, so what?
"I noticed, but about the song..." There's a pause, and Jiyong listens intently. "It's different, and I think it's better than the other one. Bolder, but not overbearing. Yeah, I think it would be a good replacement. Just try not to piss off the Commission this time."
"I wasn't trying before," Jiyong says petulantly, staring up at the bare, white ceiling.
"And don't try to be sneaky."
"I promise it will be appropriately harmless and non-incendiary, just for you," he huffs into the phone, rolling over on his stomach and kicking his feet into the air. "Maybe that can be the title: 'This Song is Taeyang Approved'."
"Well, if you want..."
"Ugh, I can hear your ego from here."
"My ego," Youngbae repeats, incredulous. "Oh, sure, this is about my ego."
"It completely is," Jiyong assures with an abundance of glee, and just then there's a sharp rap on the doorframe of his bedroom, diverting his attention. He twists his neck to see over his shoulder and waggles his fingers at Seunghyun in greeting.
"I'm heading out," the older man informs in a voice still thick and reluctant with sleep. Typical morning voice for Seunghyun. Typical just-rolled-out-of-bed look, too.
"Coming back?" Jiyong asks, more idly than he feels, because he feels just a tiny bit guilty even though he's done nothing wrong.
"Um." Seunghyun rubs a hand over his face in obvious effort to boost cognition. "I have the radio show tonight, so it will be kind of late."
"No problem. See you then."
Seunghyun nods and fails to fight off a yawn in such a way that his expression contorts outrageously, and Jiyong snickers into his hand, eyes lingering with clear fondness on his retreating back.
The sound of the door being open and shut is well-timed to Youngbae's question: "Seunghyun is still staying at your place?"
"Yeah," Jiyong responds carefully, sinking so half of his face is pressed against the duvet. One night had turned into two nights. Two are turning into three. It isn't as difficult as he was expecting, and that scares him.
"Oh." And that's it, just "oh," because Youngbae knows better than to stick his hand into the hornet's nest. Usually. "Then can I ask you something?"
"I don't think I want to talk about it right now," Jiyong deflects and practically deflates, turning his face entirely into the covers to smother a frustrated wail. Dimly, he hears Youngbae speaking.
"Not about that. About the party last weekend."
The party? Oh, that party. The one with the drinking, the slightly-uncalled-for tantrum, and the kid and the- Right, that party. "What about it?" Jiyong asks, unconsciously mellowing out just from remembering. The kid hasn't called him yet. Jiyong is certain that he will, though, and he's almost certain that he wants him to.
"Well... You know I'm nobody's mother or anything-"
"Aren't you?"
Youngbae ignores him with the ease of practice. "-but you and Seungri..."
"What about it?" Jiyong asks again, aware of his tone rising in defense. He takes a slow, measured breath, and tries to bring it back down. They're skirting the real issue here - this is okay. This isn't a big deal. Second attempt: "Aw, are you afraid I'm going to break his heart? He is adorable, but he hasn't even called me yet. Is he that kind of guy? You should tell me if he's that kind of guy or I will pine in vain."
The exasperated sigh on the other end comes as a relief. "You know what, I don't know if I should warn you about him or him about you. Never mind, maybe you both deserve each other."
Jiyong cackles at that. "Sounds exciting." But he knew that much already, had figured it out even before the clothes came off.
"You're just twisted. So does this mean Seungri is your type?"
Loaded question, two o'clock. Jiyong gives it some thought, or at least makes considering noises through the line so as to appear to give it some thought. Actually, he thinks he doesn't have a type. His type is unattainable. As a perfectionist with a streak of masochism, he wouldn't have it any other way. So he shrugs and replies with a modest, "I don't know, maybe."
* * * * *
"When's the last time you had a real meal?"
Jiyong freezes guiltily with his hand inside a box of Choco-Pies. Then he quickly pulls one out and tosses the package at Seunghyun, hitting him square in the chest. "Lunch, two hours ago," Jiyong answers in rapid-fire as he fishes out a second package and waves it, making the plastic crinkle. "Do you know how much I craved these in America? I didn't think I even liked them that much until they weren't available everywhere. The things you miss, man."
"Take-out doesn't count," Seunghyun persists because he's a stubborn bastard, and Jiyong is totally not cool with the direction this conversation seems to be going in.
"Are you offering to treat me?" He plasters a smile on his face and sidles closer, just close enough to catch the faint whiff of lingering smoke from Seunghyun's cigarette break (maybe if he was braver he'd lay a teasing hand on Seunghyun's cheek, but he has a personal rule about touching - it's limited, at least as far as Seunghyun is concerned).
Jiyong finds himself at the end of a mild I-know-what-you're-up-to glare, although mild on Seunghyun's face would look severe to anyone else. Jiyong perhaps pays better attention than most, and notices the shift of amusement that joins the expression. "You have a kitchen. Come on, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Fire?" Jiyong suggests, though it's a rather dull answer so he adds pointedly, "I know you can't cook, so what are you planning to do here? Ask Yoobin to come over and do all the work?" ...He probably didn't mean to say that.
"Like I would bother her to do something like that." Sure enough, Seunghyun has gone to some impressive lengths to not bother her. Three nights and counting. Jiyong is beginning to wonder if it's neglect, bias or no bias, but he doesn't want to think about it because as a friend, he would have to say something, bias or no bias. That's a talk he doesn't want to give, thank you very much.
"Okay, then we can go out. There's this new place we could try, Daesung was singing its praises the other day-"
"Jiyong," Seunghyun says, grabbing him by the arm as if he can physically wrestle this absurd idea into acceptance. Jiyong resists the urge to whine point-blank as a last-ditch effort. "Between the two of us, we can manage."
"But-"
"Besides," he adds, expression going critical (harsh, almost, but for the small furrow in his brow signifying worry). "I swear you've gotten thinner since you've been back, and I didn't think that was possible. After letting me crash at your place and everything... Let me fucking do something for you, okay? Even if it's just feeding you."
Jiyong can't bring himself to look at him, and covers his face with a hand for emphasis. "Christ," he says with feeling and a lack of eloquence. "Jesus Christ, Seunghyun, fine. You and your stupid... Ugh."
And that's how Jiyong finds himself staring at discount prices for fresh vegetables at the supermarket that evening. Radishes, fifteen percent off. He doesn't think he needs any of those, it's not like they're making ggakdugi - he doesn't know what they're making since he couldn't get his thoughts in order to ask at the time and now his thinking is completely streamlined: I guess we're really doing this - fuck, cooking requires ingredients, what do I have, fuck - to the supermarket! He glares at the pile of vegetables like they're to blame for his predicament before digging his cell phone out to call Seunghyun and put together a plan. It goes immediately to voicemail and Jiyong swears under his breath, belatedly remembering that Seunghyun's schedule goes late today. Well, that's just perfect.
He's still in the midst of silently stewing when he hears the surprised, "Jiyong?" from behind. The voice is light, familiar, and he's hardly aware of the smile it brings to his face as he turns.
"Hi," he says, and Seungri stares at him, like he can't quite believe Jiyong is standing there in the middle of the produce section. To be fair, Jiyong can't quite believe it himself.
"What are you doing here?" Seungri asks straight-out.
"I'm shopping?" It should be self-evident, but he enjoys the bewildered expression on the kid's face, and is conceited enough to think that few others can put it there. Jiyong suddenly snaps his fingers with an idea. "Hey, can you cook?"
"Um, a little." Jiyong can practically see the wheels in Seungri's head turning. "Just basic stuff, you know..."
Jiyong is at his side instantly, arm around his shoulders with a sense of déjà vu. Seungri is proving to be a very reliable savior. "Then, are you free tonight? Starting now? I have a favor to ask and I can make it worth your while." He leans close to say the last part in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning for the fun of it and with just a tiny bit of daring because they're in the supermarket of all places.
Seungri plays along, and Jiyong knew he would. The kid - he looks less like a kid when he smiles like that, not quite a smirk but close - takes a step back and regards him coolly. "Worth my while, huh?"
"You know I'm good for it," Jiyong says airily, arms crossed. Seungri laughs, matching him in lightness, but the shift in his eyes indicates that yes, he does know, and Jiyong is nothing if not pleased. "Then we're agreed?"
"Agreed." Seungri gives a nod, and then the curiosity begins to creep back into his tone. "What do you need me to do?"
From there on they're able to get ingredients for a simple meal. Seungri makes suggestions, hesitantly at first, and growing more confident with just a little encouragement. They don't end up needing to buy much after Seungri quizzes Jiyong on what he already has (or what he thinks he has). At the checkout, Jiyong flat-out refuses to let the younger man help pay for anything. "You can pay me back in labor," he says instead with a cheeky grin, and makes good on the promise by handing him the bag. Seungri takes it without complaint, winding the plastic handles around fingers that are bare despite the cold outside. About halfway to Jiyong's apartment, he slips a gloved hand down to cover Seungri's, figuring there were no conditions set regarding frostbite and how inconvenient that would be.
"Here we are," Jiyong announces, punching in the security code to the door. "The place is kind of cluttered, I guess, but whatever-" The door suddenly swings open as he's reaching for it and it scares the living daylights out of him.
"Jiyong!"
"Fucking hell," Jiyong sputters loudly, eyes wide and his hand over his racing heart. His other hand curls into a fist, knocking resentfully against Seunghyun's ribs. "Damn, you're back early. Way to take years off my life. Move and let me in, you freak."
"Sorry, actually, I-" Seunghyun steps to the side, slowly as if distracted. He notices Seungri and does a double-take, staring at him with dark brows drawn together. "I don't think we've met before?"
Jiyong becomes aware of Seungri's fingers gripping his shoulder and reaches up to touch them, cold and bloodless. "This is Seungri," he's swift to say, almost flippant with a quicksilver smile. "He sort of knows what he's doing in a kitchen, so I enlisted his help."
"Oh. But, well, about that..." Seunghyun drops his gaze and Jiyong feels the young man behind him relax minutely. That makes two of them. It's almost funny. Meanwhile, Seunghyun has his cell phone in hand and waves it vaguely in the air. "Um. Yoobin just called. She..."
"She needs you." Because that's what it comes down to, whatever it is. Jiyong marvels at how the words make him feel lighter instead of heavier. Good, he thinks fiercely. That's how things should be. It's a relief - a fucking relief - to have some direction at last. "You should go to her."
For a moment Jiyong is completely terrified that Seunghyun will need to be convinced, like he needs his fucking permission to go reassure his girlfriend, and Jiyong isn't sure if he can be that responsible. The moment passes, though, and Seunghyun is already wearing his shoes and coat, ready to leave. Maybe he was on his way out when Jiyong arrived, and that's why everyone involved was so startled.
"Yeah," Seunghyun agrees, voice low, and Jiyong isn't sure what's worse - the peculiar note in the voice or the earnest gaze being directed at him. "I'm sorry to bail on you."
"I'll take a rain check." Jiyong leans back and bumps against Seungri's chest. It reminds him to grin now that the crisis has passed; all he has to do is ride the rest of it out. Totally manageable. "Move your ass, you shouldn't keep a girl waiting."
Seunghyun cuffs him on the way out. "Punk," he says. Then to Seungri, matter-of-fact: "Feed him, will you? Bastard never learned how to eat properly."
"Yes, sir," Seungri replies, and Jiyong can't tell how sincere he's being until Seunghyun is gone, footsteps fading, and Seungri physically sags against him. Jiyong's grin spreads wide.
"What's with you?" He jostles Seungri's shoulder, eliciting a groan of protest.
"He did not look happy to see me." It's cute how Seungri pitches his voice to complain like that - but he's also heavy, so Jiyong shrugs him off.
"Seunghyun's face is always like that. Don't take it personally. Here, bring that stuff over, we might as well make dinner."
Seungri deposits the grocery bag on the kitchen counter with a rustle, then moves to take his coat off. "That's Seunghyun? You mentioned him before."
"Because you share the same name." Jiyong smiles, remembering. He'd been tipsy at the time and the introduction threw him for a loop. In retrospect, he should be thankful he didn't make more of an ass of himself.
"So... Were you two ever...?"
Jiyong needs something to do. He turns on the faucet to wash his hands. It's not like he's surprised by the question, but he's not drunk enough or stupid enough or train wrecked enough to talk about it. "No, it wasn't like that." The answer's weak, he needs something else, so he adds playfully, "You jealous?"
"A little."
The grudging reply surprises Jiyong into a peal of laughter, hands stilling under the running water. People don't normally admit that, do they? But Seungri tends to be blunt, and he looks sheepish about it even now. It's cute. He's very cute, but mostly he's comfortable and a few shades of intriguing. He's fun. He's safe. There's a song with his imprint on it, if not his name because that sort of thing trips over the line from poignant to tacky, and if Jiyong is good at anything, it's musical translation. His life is composed of it.
Jiyong turns the tap off, dries his hands, and crooks a finger. "C'mere."
Seungri approaches. He's a smart boy, and proves it by not asking anything more.
end
This story is proving to be very difficult to wrangle. :\ Probably because I seem to write it while in various states of illness or general I-hate-everything. But anyway, I'm estimating another two or three installments to complete the miniseries. Hurrah.
Many thanks to filterpaper for letting me bounce ideas off her. ♥
Category: Kpop (Big Bang)
Pairing(s): G-Dragon/Seungri, G-Dragon/T.O.P
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 4000
Summary: "In love, somehow, a man's heart is always either exceeding the speed limit, or getting parked in the wrong place."
Notes: AU - sequel to Momentum (unlocked for a week or so because I hate linking to locked entries).
Jiyong doesn't realize just how abysmally tired he is until he sinks into the bath, sliding down inch by slow inch until he's submerged up to his chin in steaming water. The heat eases tense muscles and soothes the ache in his limbs, and he lets his head loll back against the round lip of the tub. Hours of nonstop composing melt away. His gratified moan goes unappreciated in the hollow echo of the bathroom, reverberating off of tiles and glass.
He had a productive day, getting a good start on the new song - a brilliant song that he absolutely had to work on as soon as he got home. The music practically arranges itself. Easy enough, he supposes, with the right muse at the right time; characterized by some rough areas, some caution, someone classy but not quite polished, sleek and self-assured, yet malleable, experience at the fingertips that smooth over the inexperience just under the surface. The piece has a strong, tantalizing beat, perfect for dancing. Jiyong has it all composed in his head, has it imprinted on his body in bruises and soreness. It's a satisfying pain. Sometimes a good fuck really is the solution to one's problems. He'll call Youngbae later to tell him to forget about negotiating with the company - that other song is good (too good for the fucking Commission of Youth Protection), but this song will be phenomenal.
Jiyong closes his eyes and lets his hands drift in lazy, floating circles upon the water. The mild splashing is the only sound in the empty, steam-filled room, amazingly warm and reassuring. Blissfully quiet, a moment of calm - he's used to solitude, but unused to it. There's a difference on the other side of the globe, and a difference coming home. Tentatively, yes, he decides he can still call it home. It's taken him a while to realize that, to get past the feeling of being alone in a crowded room. For the first time since returning to Korea, he's wholly content.
The feeling lasts as long as the soak does, and admittedly, that's a while. The pads of his fingers have become all wrinkled by the time the water goes tepid enough to prompt him into movement, standing up where the air leaves cool kisses on his bare skin. Jiyong throws on a fluffy bathrobe and pulls the plug, allowing the water to rush down the drain with a thirsty gurgle. No sooner has he set a foot outside the bathroom than the knock comes at his door, a solid and well-known thump, steady one-two-three, pause.
Jiyong runs a hand through his damp hair, a look of consternation passing over his face before he approaches and answers the door. He doesn't need to check to see who's standing on the other side.
"Yo," Seunghyun greets, tilting the rim of his cap, his other hand gripping the strap of a backpack. "I tried calling, but you didn't pick up. Holed up again so soon?" His voice is teasing, and a myriad of other familiar things - casually sincere with affection adding lightness to his deep tones. Plus the beginnings of a smile; familiar, beloved, and dangerous. Jiyong returns the smile with a sense of self-preservation, but he's used to that.
"I was for most of the day," he admits, and glides away from the door, Seunghyun following with a raised brow of astonishment.
"G-Dragon is caving to the demands of the Commission?"
"I am doing no such thing," Jiyong denies with a scoff. "That song is meant to be the way I originally wrote it. If that won't fly, I'll just shelve it for now and give them something else."
More surprise, but with a different flavor. Admiration. Jiyong can't pretend he doesn't feel smug about it. "A completely new song? Will it be done in time?"
"Who do you think I am?" Jiyong fixes Seunghyun with a stare that would be much more effective if he was several inches taller, or at least broader.
Predictably, Seunghyun smirks (the superiority of height is but a paltry claim in the grand scheme of things, Jiyong is certain of this), and tousles Jiyong's hair like he's a kid. "Look at you, all grown up and behaving like an adult."
Jiyong swats the offending hand away in mock-irritation, like it's the jab at his maturity that annoys him and not the too-gentle touch. "If all you're going to do is insult me, maybe I'll kick you out."
On cue, Seunghyun goes suspiciously shifty. "Actually, uh, I was kind of hoping it would be okay to crash here for the night?" He offers a sheepish smile and shrugs the shoulder bearing the weight of his backpack.
Jiyong stares at him, expectant. Seunghyun continues to smile disarmingly.
The seconds tick by and Jiyong manages to venture, "Trouble in paradise?" He tries not to choke on the words and succeeds. He's had practice.
"Ah... Honestly, I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? How is that ambiguous?" Jiyong throws his hands up in the air, dramatic and distracted. "Have you been banished to the couch? Locked out? Or is Yoobin more of the passive-aggressive, veiled-comments type?"
"No, you see, there hasn't been a fight or anything." He takes one look at Jiyong's yes, and? expression, and has no choice but to plow on ahead. "Well, things have been tense, though. She has that concert coming up and rehearsals have been going late, and I'm pretty busy, too, so it's just...stressful around there, you know?"
Jiyong doesn't know, and he doesn't really want to know, but he can't seem to stop digging his own grave. "So basically, you ran away before the shit hit the fan."
"...Yes."
Jiyong bites his tongue to hold back the burning question: so does this mean the relationship is falling apart, or are you just being a disgustingly considerate boyfriend? He has no business asking that, none at all, and he can already deduce the answer by Seunghyun's grin, more embarrassed than guilty.
"Okay," Jiyong says, resigned. He's been resigned since the beginning, whether the beginning refers to Seunghyun knocking on his door or Jiyong's plane landing at Incheon International Airport - or further still, when Youngbae (the best friend of best friends in the world) asked him, bravely, "Then- Seunghyun-?" and Jiyong lied through his teeth that time, "Nah, not my type".
"Really?" Seunghyun asks with a cautious note buried in the word. Perhaps it's only politeness, but Jiyong has never figured out what Seunghyun thinks about them, this thing, if it's a thing to him at all. Years tend to change things, for some people anyway. Jiyong has never had courage enough to ask.
He crosses his arms, hands tucked beneath the soft folds of his bathrobe sleeves, and shrugs. "Yeah, why not? If you want to stay, you can stay." He's only somewhat prepared for the hug that comes, feeling a tightness inside his chest more than the physical pressure outside, and resigns himself to that, too.
"Thanks, I owe you one," Seunghyun says, too close for comfort, but Jiyong is tired so all he does is let his chin drop to rest on Seunghyun's shoulder. He tries not to dwell on the warm contentment spreading reluctantly through him. It takes so little, tactile and affectionate creature that he is.
"Please," Jiyong mutters. He thinks, treacherously, we're close enough to kiss. Jiyong let that happen once, a long time ago, under the pretense of awkward adolescence and a few drinks that were in no way legal, and he categorizes it as a one-time-only deal. Hopes for it, maybe, because that's how it should be. "What kind of asshole turns a friend away?"
"It's not like that. It's just... It's comfortable being around you."
Jiyong closes his eyes. Sometimes Choi Seunghyun is the worst thing in his life.
* * * * *
"So what did you think about the song?" Jiyong asks, phone to his ear while he rifles through his closet. The shirt he wants is in here somewhere, he knows it. He selects and discards on autopilot.
"You mean the one titled, 'I wrote this while sober'?" Jiyong can picture Youngbae's expression just by the way his voice inflects. The mental image makes him smile before replying with an insulted tone.
"That's not the title, it doesn't have a title yet," Jiyong scoffs and replaces another hanger, then hesitates meaningfully. "Although..."
"Don't," Youngbae pleads, laughing.
Jiyong grins. "Fine. I don't have lyrics for it yet, either." He momentarily abandons the search and sprawls backward on the bed. So he's lazy today, so what?
"I noticed, but about the song..." There's a pause, and Jiyong listens intently. "It's different, and I think it's better than the other one. Bolder, but not overbearing. Yeah, I think it would be a good replacement. Just try not to piss off the Commission this time."
"I wasn't trying before," Jiyong says petulantly, staring up at the bare, white ceiling.
"And don't try to be sneaky."
"I promise it will be appropriately harmless and non-incendiary, just for you," he huffs into the phone, rolling over on his stomach and kicking his feet into the air. "Maybe that can be the title: 'This Song is Taeyang Approved'."
"Well, if you want..."
"Ugh, I can hear your ego from here."
"My ego," Youngbae repeats, incredulous. "Oh, sure, this is about my ego."
"It completely is," Jiyong assures with an abundance of glee, and just then there's a sharp rap on the doorframe of his bedroom, diverting his attention. He twists his neck to see over his shoulder and waggles his fingers at Seunghyun in greeting.
"I'm heading out," the older man informs in a voice still thick and reluctant with sleep. Typical morning voice for Seunghyun. Typical just-rolled-out-of-bed look, too.
"Coming back?" Jiyong asks, more idly than he feels, because he feels just a tiny bit guilty even though he's done nothing wrong.
"Um." Seunghyun rubs a hand over his face in obvious effort to boost cognition. "I have the radio show tonight, so it will be kind of late."
"No problem. See you then."
Seunghyun nods and fails to fight off a yawn in such a way that his expression contorts outrageously, and Jiyong snickers into his hand, eyes lingering with clear fondness on his retreating back.
The sound of the door being open and shut is well-timed to Youngbae's question: "Seunghyun is still staying at your place?"
"Yeah," Jiyong responds carefully, sinking so half of his face is pressed against the duvet. One night had turned into two nights. Two are turning into three. It isn't as difficult as he was expecting, and that scares him.
"Oh." And that's it, just "oh," because Youngbae knows better than to stick his hand into the hornet's nest. Usually. "Then can I ask you something?"
"I don't think I want to talk about it right now," Jiyong deflects and practically deflates, turning his face entirely into the covers to smother a frustrated wail. Dimly, he hears Youngbae speaking.
"Not about that. About the party last weekend."
The party? Oh, that party. The one with the drinking, the slightly-uncalled-for tantrum, and the kid and the- Right, that party. "What about it?" Jiyong asks, unconsciously mellowing out just from remembering. The kid hasn't called him yet. Jiyong is certain that he will, though, and he's almost certain that he wants him to.
"Well... You know I'm nobody's mother or anything-"
"Aren't you?"
Youngbae ignores him with the ease of practice. "-but you and Seungri..."
"What about it?" Jiyong asks again, aware of his tone rising in defense. He takes a slow, measured breath, and tries to bring it back down. They're skirting the real issue here - this is okay. This isn't a big deal. Second attempt: "Aw, are you afraid I'm going to break his heart? He is adorable, but he hasn't even called me yet. Is he that kind of guy? You should tell me if he's that kind of guy or I will pine in vain."
The exasperated sigh on the other end comes as a relief. "You know what, I don't know if I should warn you about him or him about you. Never mind, maybe you both deserve each other."
Jiyong cackles at that. "Sounds exciting." But he knew that much already, had figured it out even before the clothes came off.
"You're just twisted. So does this mean Seungri is your type?"
Loaded question, two o'clock. Jiyong gives it some thought, or at least makes considering noises through the line so as to appear to give it some thought. Actually, he thinks he doesn't have a type. His type is unattainable. As a perfectionist with a streak of masochism, he wouldn't have it any other way. So he shrugs and replies with a modest, "I don't know, maybe."
* * * * *
"When's the last time you had a real meal?"
Jiyong freezes guiltily with his hand inside a box of Choco-Pies. Then he quickly pulls one out and tosses the package at Seunghyun, hitting him square in the chest. "Lunch, two hours ago," Jiyong answers in rapid-fire as he fishes out a second package and waves it, making the plastic crinkle. "Do you know how much I craved these in America? I didn't think I even liked them that much until they weren't available everywhere. The things you miss, man."
"Take-out doesn't count," Seunghyun persists because he's a stubborn bastard, and Jiyong is totally not cool with the direction this conversation seems to be going in.
"Are you offering to treat me?" He plasters a smile on his face and sidles closer, just close enough to catch the faint whiff of lingering smoke from Seunghyun's cigarette break (maybe if he was braver he'd lay a teasing hand on Seunghyun's cheek, but he has a personal rule about touching - it's limited, at least as far as Seunghyun is concerned).
Jiyong finds himself at the end of a mild I-know-what-you're-up-to glare, although mild on Seunghyun's face would look severe to anyone else. Jiyong perhaps pays better attention than most, and notices the shift of amusement that joins the expression. "You have a kitchen. Come on, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Fire?" Jiyong suggests, though it's a rather dull answer so he adds pointedly, "I know you can't cook, so what are you planning to do here? Ask Yoobin to come over and do all the work?" ...He probably didn't mean to say that.
"Like I would bother her to do something like that." Sure enough, Seunghyun has gone to some impressive lengths to not bother her. Three nights and counting. Jiyong is beginning to wonder if it's neglect, bias or no bias, but he doesn't want to think about it because as a friend, he would have to say something, bias or no bias. That's a talk he doesn't want to give, thank you very much.
"Okay, then we can go out. There's this new place we could try, Daesung was singing its praises the other day-"
"Jiyong," Seunghyun says, grabbing him by the arm as if he can physically wrestle this absurd idea into acceptance. Jiyong resists the urge to whine point-blank as a last-ditch effort. "Between the two of us, we can manage."
"But-"
"Besides," he adds, expression going critical (harsh, almost, but for the small furrow in his brow signifying worry). "I swear you've gotten thinner since you've been back, and I didn't think that was possible. After letting me crash at your place and everything... Let me fucking do something for you, okay? Even if it's just feeding you."
Jiyong can't bring himself to look at him, and covers his face with a hand for emphasis. "Christ," he says with feeling and a lack of eloquence. "Jesus Christ, Seunghyun, fine. You and your stupid... Ugh."
And that's how Jiyong finds himself staring at discount prices for fresh vegetables at the supermarket that evening. Radishes, fifteen percent off. He doesn't think he needs any of those, it's not like they're making ggakdugi - he doesn't know what they're making since he couldn't get his thoughts in order to ask at the time and now his thinking is completely streamlined: I guess we're really doing this - fuck, cooking requires ingredients, what do I have, fuck - to the supermarket! He glares at the pile of vegetables like they're to blame for his predicament before digging his cell phone out to call Seunghyun and put together a plan. It goes immediately to voicemail and Jiyong swears under his breath, belatedly remembering that Seunghyun's schedule goes late today. Well, that's just perfect.
He's still in the midst of silently stewing when he hears the surprised, "Jiyong?" from behind. The voice is light, familiar, and he's hardly aware of the smile it brings to his face as he turns.
"Hi," he says, and Seungri stares at him, like he can't quite believe Jiyong is standing there in the middle of the produce section. To be fair, Jiyong can't quite believe it himself.
"What are you doing here?" Seungri asks straight-out.
"I'm shopping?" It should be self-evident, but he enjoys the bewildered expression on the kid's face, and is conceited enough to think that few others can put it there. Jiyong suddenly snaps his fingers with an idea. "Hey, can you cook?"
"Um, a little." Jiyong can practically see the wheels in Seungri's head turning. "Just basic stuff, you know..."
Jiyong is at his side instantly, arm around his shoulders with a sense of déjà vu. Seungri is proving to be a very reliable savior. "Then, are you free tonight? Starting now? I have a favor to ask and I can make it worth your while." He leans close to say the last part in a conspiratorial whisper, grinning for the fun of it and with just a tiny bit of daring because they're in the supermarket of all places.
Seungri plays along, and Jiyong knew he would. The kid - he looks less like a kid when he smiles like that, not quite a smirk but close - takes a step back and regards him coolly. "Worth my while, huh?"
"You know I'm good for it," Jiyong says airily, arms crossed. Seungri laughs, matching him in lightness, but the shift in his eyes indicates that yes, he does know, and Jiyong is nothing if not pleased. "Then we're agreed?"
"Agreed." Seungri gives a nod, and then the curiosity begins to creep back into his tone. "What do you need me to do?"
From there on they're able to get ingredients for a simple meal. Seungri makes suggestions, hesitantly at first, and growing more confident with just a little encouragement. They don't end up needing to buy much after Seungri quizzes Jiyong on what he already has (or what he thinks he has). At the checkout, Jiyong flat-out refuses to let the younger man help pay for anything. "You can pay me back in labor," he says instead with a cheeky grin, and makes good on the promise by handing him the bag. Seungri takes it without complaint, winding the plastic handles around fingers that are bare despite the cold outside. About halfway to Jiyong's apartment, he slips a gloved hand down to cover Seungri's, figuring there were no conditions set regarding frostbite and how inconvenient that would be.
"Here we are," Jiyong announces, punching in the security code to the door. "The place is kind of cluttered, I guess, but whatever-" The door suddenly swings open as he's reaching for it and it scares the living daylights out of him.
"Jiyong!"
"Fucking hell," Jiyong sputters loudly, eyes wide and his hand over his racing heart. His other hand curls into a fist, knocking resentfully against Seunghyun's ribs. "Damn, you're back early. Way to take years off my life. Move and let me in, you freak."
"Sorry, actually, I-" Seunghyun steps to the side, slowly as if distracted. He notices Seungri and does a double-take, staring at him with dark brows drawn together. "I don't think we've met before?"
Jiyong becomes aware of Seungri's fingers gripping his shoulder and reaches up to touch them, cold and bloodless. "This is Seungri," he's swift to say, almost flippant with a quicksilver smile. "He sort of knows what he's doing in a kitchen, so I enlisted his help."
"Oh. But, well, about that..." Seunghyun drops his gaze and Jiyong feels the young man behind him relax minutely. That makes two of them. It's almost funny. Meanwhile, Seunghyun has his cell phone in hand and waves it vaguely in the air. "Um. Yoobin just called. She..."
"She needs you." Because that's what it comes down to, whatever it is. Jiyong marvels at how the words make him feel lighter instead of heavier. Good, he thinks fiercely. That's how things should be. It's a relief - a fucking relief - to have some direction at last. "You should go to her."
For a moment Jiyong is completely terrified that Seunghyun will need to be convinced, like he needs his fucking permission to go reassure his girlfriend, and Jiyong isn't sure if he can be that responsible. The moment passes, though, and Seunghyun is already wearing his shoes and coat, ready to leave. Maybe he was on his way out when Jiyong arrived, and that's why everyone involved was so startled.
"Yeah," Seunghyun agrees, voice low, and Jiyong isn't sure what's worse - the peculiar note in the voice or the earnest gaze being directed at him. "I'm sorry to bail on you."
"I'll take a rain check." Jiyong leans back and bumps against Seungri's chest. It reminds him to grin now that the crisis has passed; all he has to do is ride the rest of it out. Totally manageable. "Move your ass, you shouldn't keep a girl waiting."
Seunghyun cuffs him on the way out. "Punk," he says. Then to Seungri, matter-of-fact: "Feed him, will you? Bastard never learned how to eat properly."
"Yes, sir," Seungri replies, and Jiyong can't tell how sincere he's being until Seunghyun is gone, footsteps fading, and Seungri physically sags against him. Jiyong's grin spreads wide.
"What's with you?" He jostles Seungri's shoulder, eliciting a groan of protest.
"He did not look happy to see me." It's cute how Seungri pitches his voice to complain like that - but he's also heavy, so Jiyong shrugs him off.
"Seunghyun's face is always like that. Don't take it personally. Here, bring that stuff over, we might as well make dinner."
Seungri deposits the grocery bag on the kitchen counter with a rustle, then moves to take his coat off. "That's Seunghyun? You mentioned him before."
"Because you share the same name." Jiyong smiles, remembering. He'd been tipsy at the time and the introduction threw him for a loop. In retrospect, he should be thankful he didn't make more of an ass of himself.
"So... Were you two ever...?"
Jiyong needs something to do. He turns on the faucet to wash his hands. It's not like he's surprised by the question, but he's not drunk enough or stupid enough or train wrecked enough to talk about it. "No, it wasn't like that." The answer's weak, he needs something else, so he adds playfully, "You jealous?"
"A little."
The grudging reply surprises Jiyong into a peal of laughter, hands stilling under the running water. People don't normally admit that, do they? But Seungri tends to be blunt, and he looks sheepish about it even now. It's cute. He's very cute, but mostly he's comfortable and a few shades of intriguing. He's fun. He's safe. There's a song with his imprint on it, if not his name because that sort of thing trips over the line from poignant to tacky, and if Jiyong is good at anything, it's musical translation. His life is composed of it.
Jiyong turns the tap off, dries his hands, and crooks a finger. "C'mere."
Seungri approaches. He's a smart boy, and proves it by not asking anything more.
end
This story is proving to be very difficult to wrangle. :\ Probably because I seem to write it while in various states of illness or general I-hate-everything. But anyway, I'm estimating another two or three installments to complete the miniseries. Hurrah.
Many thanks to filterpaper for letting me bounce ideas off her. ♥