4: Cowardly Beings (2/2)
Hongbin manages to avoid Wonshik during school hours, because he can't stand the thought of them being seen together. In the beginning, Wonshik sends him texts every day to ask him where he's at, can they meet up, but eventually he seems to get the point. He doesn't ask why. Stops asking where he is. Stops asking altogether.
Going to the party did nothing for Hongbin's image or reputation, but it made a world of difference for Wonshik. The other students know that he's Hongbin's friend now, and they make sure Wonshik knows what they think of that every chance they get. In a way, it's selfish of Hongbin to let the other go through it all alone, because he knows how it feels. But he can't help Wonshik, he never could. Only two options remain for him: He can avoid Wonshik and watch him sink into the abyss, or he can showcase their friendship to the world and watch him sink even faster. Out of the two, he chooses the former. He wants Wonshik to remain hopeful for as long as he can.
Nights and weekends are a different question, though. Wonshik drops by so often that Hongbin is almost always expecting him to show up, and they sleep together in the darkness of Hongbin's room, never even bothering to worry about his parents finding them, because they never look. Their sex is always hard, fast, intense enough to take up every thought and feeling that has a chance to form in their bodies, and before long, Hongbin finds himself craving it whenever he's alone. He's tentative, at first, because Wonshik is the loving kind, the kind to tend to every single one of Hongbin's body parts and make sure he leaves no space unworshipped, and Hongbin is far from perfect. He has numerous scars from where he has forced burning cigarette buds into his skin - a habit he has given up, now that sex with Wonshik is his new favorite form of self-destruction. The other hasn't said anything about it, though, but simply complies when Hongbin orders him to hurry up, to get inside him, to do it harder, faster, ask ”how high” when Hongbin tells him to jump, because he just wants to please him, Hongbin knows that.
And being with Wonshik is easier than he would ever have thought it could be.
Reality starts to catch up to him after about three weeks of this. He feels lonely constantly, even during the times that Wonshik is there, because he knows that they're all borrowed feelings. The time will come when Wonshik will take off, and Hongbin will be alone again. It has practically already happened. And one day, Wonshik calls him right when Hongbin has made it home from school and carried his guitar up to his room.
”Hongbin?” His voice is strained, and he's panting slightly.
”Yes?”
”I hate to ask, but could you please come over?”
Hongbin pauses in pure surprise. He's never been to Wonshik's place, the other has never asked him, and neither has Hongbin. ”Right now?” he asks, already halfway back down the stairs.
”Yeah.”
”I don't know where you live, though.”
Wonshik's sigh makes him feel guilty for some reason he's not clear on. ”Just go towards the school and I'll come meet you, okay?”
”Okay,” Hongbin agrees. ”Did something happen?”
”I'll see you soon.”
Wonshik meets him when he's almost reached their school, and they walk towards Wonshik's place in silence. It's not uncommon for them to enjoy each other's presence quietly, but this silence is tense, and Wonshik seems paler than usual, barely even looking at Hongbin when they walk. Hongbin wants to ask, but assumes it's better to wait until they're in the safety of Wonshik's room.
He doesn't know what he expects, and he's still surprised. Wonshik's family and house is nothing like he hadn't imagined, starting from the moment they open the door to the big, white house a few kilometers from school. Directly to the right from the doorway is the kitchen, and someone, an older lady, probably Wonshik's mother, comes running out to greet them. She hugs Wonshik tightly, murmuring endearments, and Hongbin removes his shoes before standing awkwardly on the side, watching Wonshik try to fight his mother off. ”Mom...” he mutters, and Hongbin has to fight not to smile at his embarrassment.
”Oh, of course,” Mrs. Kim says then, releasing her son and turning to Hongbin. ”You must be Hongbin. Wonshikie has told me a lot about you.”
Hongbin blinks, looking between Wonshik and his mother like a deer caught in headlights. ”Really?”
”Oh, yes,” she laughs heartily. ”But only good things, so don't worry about it.” Hongbin frowns, staring at Wonshik and thinking, with a slight relief, that if it was only good things, he can't have told her much. She ushers them into the kitchen, Wonshik looking like he'd rather disappear off the face of the earth. ”Can I get you anything? Something to drink, maybe? It's hot outside.”
”Give the poor guy a second to breathe, would you?” A man laughs from his seat at the table, a man so strikingly alike Wonshik that his identity could never be questioned. ”Hey,” he adds, raising a hand at Hongbin. ”Nice to meet you.”
”You too,” Hongbin stutters, feels warm, and is sure he's blushing. He turns to Wonshik, silently pleading with him to get him out of here, not because he doesn't like them, but because he's sure they're going to notice what kind of person he is very, very soon. Wonshik isn't looking back at him, though, so he directs his attention elsewhere, and looks around the kitchen. It's modern, yes, but the house itself is unmistakably old. The two big windows by the kitchen table floods the room with light, and Hongbin likes it, likes that it isn't too big, likes how clean it is, likes everything about it.
”Hongbin,” Mrs. Kim says then, and he snaps out of his thoughts, looking at her anxiously.
”Yes?”
”Wonshik has told you... that his father and I know about your relationship, right?”
Hongbin stares at Wonshik, horrified, his eyes wide.
”Open relationship, mom,” Wonshik says, annoyed, and Hongbin has to force his own jaw shut. He could never, never in a million years tell his own parents something like that.
Mr. Kim laughs suddenly, the sound loud and infectious. ”Judging by the look on his face, he hadn't a clue,” he laughs, and Hongbin struggles to straighten out his features.
”Uh, I didn't, actually.”
”I only have one question for you,” Mr. Kim says, staring at Hongbin thoughtfully while his laughter ebbs out. ”How do you put up with this guy?” He points at Wonshik, who simply tilts his head in disbelief.
”Okay, we'll be in my room, goodbye,” Wonshik says, grabbing Hongbin by the wrist and dragging him away, back out into the hall and up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Hongbin simply follows behind him with a silly smile on his face, trying hard to process all the information he was given during that short meeting.
Wonshik's room turns out to be the smallest room in the house. Part of it is due to the angled roof, and the illusion might be strengthened a little bit by all the furniture and things that have been pushed into the small space, making it feel crowded even though they're alone in there.
”It's kind of small, but...” Wonshik says, and Hongbin has to laugh a little. Wonshik seems more nervous now, showing off his room, than he's ever been about showing Hongbin his naked body.
Hongbin walks over to Wonshik's overfull desk. There's a notebook lying open on it, and Hongbin can see Wonshik's handwriting, but it doesn't feel right to read it without his permission. ”I like it,” he says sincerely. ”It feels like you're close to everything in the room wherever you stand. I like it.”
Wonshik laughs suddenly, and Hongbin turns to him questioningly. ”No surprise there.”
”What do you mean?”
Wonshik walks over to his neatly made bed and sits down. It's pushed against the wall under the angled ceiling, barely giving enough room for the other man to sit upright, and there's a window on the wall behind it, with yellow curtains pushed to the side. ”Haven't you thought about that?” Wonshik asks, offering him an affectionate smile. ”Whenever we sleep together, you sleep pressed against the wall. I thought you just needed your space, but you always drag me closer until you're basically sandwiched between me and the wall.”
Hongbin turns away, slightly dumbfounded that Wonshik knows so many things about him. Maybe when he disappears, Wonshik will be the only one who can say more than ”he was a gifted young man”. Maybe Wonshik will be there to tell the world how he liked his three a.m. tea, how his body language changed when he was tired, and that he was only ticklish on the backs of his knees.
He studies some of the other things on Wonshik's desks and notices countless paintings, drawings, doodles and loose sheets of paper. ”You draw?” Hongbin asks, horrified as he realizes that Wonshik does indeed know him a lot better than he knows Wonshik.
”Oh, uh, yeah, sometimes,” Wonshik says modestly, but Hongbin can see from all the different pens and pencils strewn about that that sometimes is much bigger than it sounds.
”They're...” Hongbin tries, carefully moving a few stray papers to get a better look at a particularly colorful drawing. ”They're really good.” He swallows, and he wishes he was better at giving compliments, because Wonshik truly deserves it. If anyone does, it's him.
”Thanks,” Wonshik says, getting up off the bed and closing the small distance between them, embracing Hongbin from the side. His hands clasp on Hongbin's other side, and when he looks down, he realizes they are shaking.
”What's wrong?” he asks, scared that he won't be able to fix whatever the problem is. ”What happened?”
Wonshik shakes his head, letting go of him so that Hongbin can face him properly. ”I... I know it's stupid and you've had to live through a lot worse,” he begins, and Hongbin can feel his heart sinking. ”And I know I shouldn't be complaining to someone who has it so much worse than me, but... Today when I was walking home, they threw rocks at me.” Hongbin looks down, stares at their feet, feels the anxiety between them like a mute, soundless wall. ”It's the first time it has happened, and I just- it got to me a little.”
Hongbin doesn't know why Wonshik tries to sweep his feelings under the rug, but he hears the words for what they really are, what they really mean: Wonshik is scared. All because he insisted on staying with Hongbin, even when the latter told him not to. ”I told you-” he begins, but Wonshik cuts him off.
”Please... No. That's not what this is about.” He takes Hongbin's hands in his and backs up towards the bed, spinning them around and making Hongbin sit down on it. ”Just... help me calm down, please?” Hongbin nods slowly, understanding Wonshik's need as it reflects his own. Wonshik kisses him then, on the lips first, and Hongbin can't respond, never responds, so Wonshik kisses over his cheek, down to his throat and starts undoing the buttons on his black shirt. Hongbin runs his fingers soothingly over any expanse of skin he can find, and he's surprised, bordering on speechless when he tries to pull the other into the bed but Wonshik insists that Hongbin stays where he's sitting, carefully pulling his zipper down and getting onto his knees. Hongbin had thought it would be the other way around, that Hongbin would work to calm him down, but he mentally chastises himself, because of course this would be Wonshik's relief. He searches for all his answers in love, in giving, in sharing - which, in the end, will be the end of him, Hongbin knows, just like Hongbin's end will be met in the opposite; selfishness, loneliness, paranoia.
He keeps his voice down even as he comes, scared of being heard, even though Wonshik's parents already know what they're up to. Wonshik swallows all he has to offer, then comes up, sitting down next to Hongbin on the sheets while the other zips his pants back up. Hongbin stares for a while, takes in the sight of how beautiful Wonshik really is, and he's aware of the hardness in the other's pants, highly so, so he reaches down, stroking him through the material, more than ready to return the favor. He moves to get down on his knees on Wonshik's clean bedroom floor, but Wonshik holds him by the wrists, stopping him from moving.
”Can you...” he tries, voice trembling a little as Hongbin's hand finds his clothed crotch again. ”Can you kiss me? Just this once,” he hurries at Hongbin's hesitant expression. ”I know you don't like it, and you can say no, but please... Just this once. Please.”
Hongbin doesn't respond, but simply pulls down Wonshik's pants and underwear, the other lifting his hips up off the bed to help him. Then, instead of getting down on the floor, he straddles Wonshik's lap, and the other sighs in gratefulness, hands coming up to clutch at his back. ”Thank you,” he whispers, and Hongbin shakes his head, because he doesn't want to hear it, doesn't think he's anything to be thankful for. He wraps his hand around him and strokes him slowly but firmly, pressing his lips against Wonshik's. He doesn't like it, because this feels dirty, nothing else they've ever done has felt this dirty because Hongbin suddenly feels like he's lying, like he's doing this behind someone else's back, like he's promising things he can't fulfill. He's never used his lips and tongue to lie to Wonshik before, not about something as sacred as this, and he wishes he wouldn't have to, but he does feel like he owes him something, so he continues.
When he speeds up his movements, Wonshik gasps against his lips, shaky groans slipping out under needy moans, and Hongbin can't deny that it feels amazing. It feels fantastic, and he's glad he can do this for him, that Wonshik trusts him enough to ask for what he wants. And when he comes, Hongbin takes his time just watching his face, observing each twitch of bliss and breathing in every exhale of euphoria. And it's sad, he thinks, that being this close to somebody will always have to mean nothing. Because Hongbin is too weak to take the hurt that is an inevitable part of love.
Hongbin eases himself off the other, breathing deeply to calm his racing heartbeat. It doesn't seem to work, but he pretends it does. Wonshik leans back on his one unsoiled hand, head thrown back and eyes closed as he comes down from his high. Then he smiles at Hongbin, fondly and full of gratitude, as always. ”I'm going to go wash up,” he says, clenching his come stained hand.
”Bring me some paper,” Hongbin tells him when he leaves, and Wonshik shows him a slightly embarrassed smile over his shoulder before he disappears from the room.
As soon as he's left alone, Hongbin grows restless. It's not as strong as the restlessness he's filled with alone in his own room, but it's undeniable, and it worries him. He stands up, wobbling a little with the aftermath of his orgasm, and walks over to Wonshik's desk. The open notebook catches his attention immediately, and this time, selfishly, to ease his pounding heart, he reads it.
He doesn't touch it, doesn't pick it up in fear of soiling it, but leans down instead. It's a poem, lyrics of some kind, he concludes, in which the narrator speaks about an unidentified someone, and his refusal to let this someone fall apart. Hongbin does his best not to freak out, but his heart is beating so fast he thinks he might faint, because how many people like this does Wonshik have in his life? Is it about Hongbin, or does he feel this way about somebody else?
”What are you doing?”
Hongbin jolts upright, facing Wonshik, who's standing the doorway with a roll of toilet paper in his hands.
”Oh, I'm- I'm sorry, it was just there, I didn't mean to look through your stuff...”
”No, it's okay,” Wonshik says, shaking his blond fringe out of his eyes as he walks up to him. ”You can read it. You know, if you ask.” He chuckles, taking Hongbin's hands in his and wiping them off, one by one, before throwing the paper into the trash can and placing a kiss on the back of Hongbin's hand.
”I... I already read it all. Sorry.” He scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding the glint in Wonshik's eyes.
”What did you think?”
Hongbin struggles to find words. ”It was... it was beautiful. Uhm...”
Wonshik watches his struggle in amusement. ”Thank you. Is there anything you're curious about?” he asks, grinning, as if he can see Hongbin's thoughts through his eyes.
Hongbin bites down on his lip. If Wonshik can be straight-forward, then goddamnit, so can he. ”Who's it about?”
Wonshik smiles, seemingly surprised that Hongbin managed to pluck up the courage. ”You, of course.”
Hongbin picks the notebook up. His hands are trembling a little now. Wonshik's handwriting is so telling, so very Wonshik, tall and sprawling, edgy yet somehow graceful. ”When did you write it?”
”A couple of days ago.” Wonshik has seen his quivering hands by now, and he's not smiling anymore.
Hongbin nods, and says the one thing he wishes he didn't have to say. ”I have to go now. I have to get home.”
”Hongbin, don't freak out,” Wonshik tries, holding onto Hongbin's wrists. ”What I said still stands. I won't force you into something you don't want.”
”I really have to go,” Hongbin repeats, close to panicking now. ”Can I keep this?” he asks, already turning the page to see if there's anything else on the back, but there isn't.
”Sure,” Wonshik says reluctantly, and does nothing to stop Hongbin when he rips the page out.
”Thank you. See you later.” And with that, he pushes past Wonshik, who remains where he's standing, tears slowly filling his eyes.
”Hongbin, please... Don't leave.” Hongbin stops in the doorway, hugging the paper close to his chest. ”Can't you stay? Please?”
But Hongbin shakes his head, and he refuses to feel like a bad person as he does so. He's already given Wonshik one thing he needs, and he needs to do the same for himself. He can't give Wonshik a bigger place in his heart than he already has, because - and he tells himself this very seriously as he hurries down the spiral staircase - if he does, he's doomed.
What he doesn't admit to himself, though, is that he can't give Wonshik a bigger place in his heart than he has, because he's already occupying all of it.
The next time they meet, Wonshik comes to visit him, and Hongbin is sitting on the floor of his bedroom in a hazy cloud of smoke. His guitar is lying beside him, the reason for his anger, the reason why he's smoking cigarette after cigarette until he feels light-headed and ready to vomit. Wonshik walks into his room and finds him like that, papers strewn about in front of him, including Wonshik's poem, and a fresh burn mark peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. Neither of them say anything, but simply stare at each other, until Wonshik moves over to open the window.
”Shit, Hongbin,” he grunts, ”at least open the window if you're going to smoke.”
”Fuck you, this is my room,” Hongbin replies, not proud of his masterful way with words, but meaning it nonetheless. He exhales another puff of smoke.
Wonshik sits down on his bed. The only place he seems to want to be nowadays. ”What have you been doing?”
Hongbin nods non-committedly towards the guitar next to him. ”I was playing. Writing a song. But the damn thing stopped co-operating.”
”Were you at school today?” Wonshik asks, and Hongbin shakes his head, not even embarrassed. He hasn't been to school for a while now, and it suits him fine, he thinks, telling his parents he's sick and only coming out of his room for dinner.
”Nope.”
Wonshik sighs, and Hongbin simply glares at him. The fact that Wonshik isn't asking him how he is must mean he looks shitty enough for the question to be unnecessary. ”So how about this song you wrote?” he asks instead. ”Can you tell me?”
Hongbin stares down at the paper in front of him. ”When I read your poem, I heard this melody in my head immediately,” he tells him, picking up the sheet from the floor, and though it's so full of notes and lyrics that it's probably unreadable to anyone who isn't Hongbin, he holds it up to show the other. ”So I wrote a song based on it. With your lyrics.” Wonshik takes the paper out of his hands, eyes wide with emotion. ”I hope that was okay.”
”Of course,” the blond says, scanning the paper as well as he can.
”I only changed a couple of words here and there to make them flow with the music better.”
Wonshik ignores the comment. ”I can't read sheet music. Will you play it for me?”
Hongbin thinks there's nothing that can make this solid, numb anxiety in his body worse, not even singing about his biggest fears, not in front of his biggest fear, his biggest addiction, biggest wish, so he reaches for his guitar, removing the cigarette from between his lips. Looking around for something to put it out against, he comes up with a blank, and pulls his pant leg up, pressing it against the inside of his shin without hesitation, wincing at the burning, bright, vibrant pain that spreads.
”What the hell are you doing?” Wonshik exclaims, throwing himself off the bed and tearing Hongbin's hand away, stealing the cigarette butt out of his hands.
Hongbin wobbles where he sits and stares down at the redhot wound on his leg. ”Calm down, it won't kill me,” he says, annoyed that Wonshik would take his self-destructiveness so seriously when he disregards his words so often.
”So that makes it automatically good?” Wonshik bites out, throwing the remains of the cigarette out the window. He faces him again, staring down at him furiously, and Hongbin is genuinely confused.
”Why are you getting angry? You know I'm like this.”
Wonshik pulls his hands through his hair. ”Hongbin, this is not okay.”
”It's fine.”
”No, it's not,” Wonshik insists, sitting down next to him on the floor. ”You can't keep doing this. Here, let me see,” he tries, but Hongbin pulls down his pant leg to cover the wound.
”No, it doesn't matter.” Wonshik stares into his eyes, and Hongbin adds: ”I like it better like this. When it hurts when I move. It calms me down.”
Wonshik sits back, shaking his head in disbelief. ”Don't be like this.”
And that's when Hongbin snaps. ”Don't be like what?!” he yells. ”You know I'm like this, you've known I'm like this from the first fucking time that we met, from before we even knew each other, so why are you saying this now, 'don't be like this'?” He wonders why the tears don't come, but he's glad they don't. He's thankful for any way he can suppress his emotions. ”Don't you know why I was up there on that fucking roof the first time we met?” he asks, and it's a thought that's been haunting him ever since then, because he really, honestly, genuinely thought the other was smart enough to figure it out. But Wonshik simply looks back at him, eyes widened slightly in surprise at the volume of his voice. ”You don't?” He laughs, completely void of joy. ”I was up there trying to convince myself to just die, to just take the step and kill myself, alright? And give everyone at that damn school exactly what they want. So that they could stand by the side and spit on my dead body, because I obviously don't deserve anything else!”
Silence falls. The chirping of the birds in the late spring afternoon flows in through the window, but Hongbin can't hear them. He only hears his own labored breathing and his own pulse drumming in his ears.
”Is that...” Wonshik starts quietly. ”Is that really what you think?”
Hongbin's throat hurts now. He's not used to talking as much as he has since Wonshik came into his life, and he doesn't want to yell anymore. ”What else am I supposed to think?”
”Hongbin...” Wonshik breathes, pulling a hand through his own hair. ”I thought... I thought you knew how I feel about you...”
Hongbin looks down. Yes, yes, he knows how Wonshik feels about him. One mistake in a world of rights. Because all those people, all those countless students that hate him, they can't all be wrong, can they? They can't just hate him for no reason?
”You hate yourself that much?”
Hongbin simply stares. He thought Wonshik had caught on by now. ”I hate everyone,” he says. ”I hate everyone in the whole world, only I hate myself just a little bit more.”
Wonshik's eyes are hollow now, but still fixed on Hongbin. ”Enough so that you want to die?”
Hongbin nods. ”Yes. But I'm not strong enough for that or anything else, apparently, so don't fucking worry about it.”
Wonshik frowns, tears glistening in his eyes. ”Killing yourself doesn't take strength,” he says, as if the words are bizarre to him. ”It's a shortcut. It takes desperation, nothing else.” A tear falls down his cheek, and he wipes it away immediately. ”Staying, fighting back, surviving is what takes strength.”
Hongbin feels like he can't breathe, and he can't say anything, only gasps for air, and there are no tears in his eyes, so maybe they're all clogged up in his airways somewhere, or in his heart, and he's really starting to panic now, deep exhales cut short by something unknown in his lungs, and he stares at Wonshik, begs him silently to help him out of this mess, help him out of his own skin, his own mind.
”Hongbin?” Wonshik questions, and within a second he has closed up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle, loosely, but still enough to bring some sense of security to Hongbin's strangled mind. ”Easy,” he mururs into his ear. ”Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly.”
Hongbin tries to do as he's told, and it almost works, as he draws short, quivering breaths through his nose. ”Deeper breaths,” Wonshik instructs him, and Hongbin closes his eyes, forces himself to keep breathing normally. And soon enough, he's gone limp in Wonshik's arms, his breathing matching the rise and fall of Wonshik's chest behind him, and he's too tired to even wish it was all over, this constant nightmarish reality where he's alone even when he has people around him.
”Should I play you the song now?” Hongbin asks, forty minutes later, when he's standing by the window, another cigarette between his fingers. He wants to apologize for everything, but he can't make the words come out. Wonshik is the one who insisted on staying with him, anyway. It's not his fault, not really.
Wonshik is sitting on the bed again, right by Hongbin's side. He shakes his head slowly. ”I changed my mind.”
”What?”
”I don't want you to play me the song like this,” Wonshik clarifies. Hongbin stares at him, somehow disappointed. ”I want you to perform it at the weekly briefing at school, in front of our entire year, and show them that you're human, talented and fucking perfect,” Wonshik finishes, the hollowness from his eyes completely gone, finally looking like himself again. Excited like a little puppy.
And Hongbin can't believe his ears. ”Are you insane?” he asks, inhaling deeply from his cigarette. The weekly briefing at their school is held every Thursday morning, where the teachers get up on a stage to tell them about contests, visitors, schedule changes, events and the like. It usually doesn't take up more than twenty minutes, and sometimes - once in a blue moon - there's a musical performance.
Wonshik shrugs with a playful smile on his face. ”Think about it. It's perfect. I refuse to believe that anyone could hear you play without falling for you.”
Hongbin snorts. ”Well, that'd be an even bigger problem.”
Wonshik laughs at that, but doesn't seem to give up. ”I think it's a great idea. You'll give them a reason to respect you, since they're not smart enough to think of one on their own.”
Hongbin stares at him, looking for any sign that he's joking, but finds none. And it's painful, again, the way these things, these silly ideas of his, seem possible when they're said with Wonshik's voice. And maybe Hongbin wants to pretend for just a moment that it could be possible, that he could change their lives by doing the one thing he's good for. He does, it's true, he wants to indulge in this fantasy, so he puts his cigrarette out against the window frame, throws it into the air and rushes over to where Wonshik is sitting, kissing him hard on the lips, the last of the smoke passing between them. Wonshik, the non-smoker, pulls back and coughs, and Hongbin takes this opportunity to push him down on the bed, straddling him and hurriedly working on the buttons on his shirt.
”Hey, hey, hey,” Wonshik says, chuckling a little as he grabs Hongbin's fumbling hands. ”What are you doing?”
Hongbin glares at him. ”What does it look like I'm doing?” he bites, wiggling his hands out of the other's grip and continuing down his chest and stomach.
”Slow down,” Wonshik says, grabbing his hands again. ”You said you hate yourself.”
Hongbin sighs, some of his spark going out. ”I said I hate everyone.”
”Right,” Wonshik says, nodding. ”So does that mean you hate me too?”
Hongbin frowns, about to deny it just to get it over with, but he changes his mind. ”Why, now that you mention it, yes, I do.”
”Really,” Wonshik says, sounding amused.
”Yes.”
”How come?”
”Well, for one thing,” Hongbin starts, ”I told you, the first day that we met that you were about to commit social suicide, and you said 'la-dee-da, I don't care', when you had no idea what you were even talking about.” Wonshik opens his mouth to argue, so Hongbin hurries on: ”Plus, plus, you invited me into your home and showed me your stupid, beautiful fucking family and made me realize how depressing my own is, and now you won't even fuck me when I need you to!”
Wonshik laughs, hands gripping at Hongbin's hips. ”Oh, I'll fuck you, but only if we do this a little differently.”
Hongbin raises an eyebrow at him. ”What are you talking about?”
Wonshik keeps laughing, flipping them over easily to take the lead. ”You're so much louder now than when we first met,” he mumbles, ”so much more outspoken. I love it.”
Hongbin rolls his eyes where he lies, pulling on Wonshik's shoulders. ”I don't know where the fuck you're going with this, but I don't care as long as you get your pants off-”
He's silenced by Wonshik's lips on his, kissing him slowly, frustratingly so, because Hongbin wants hard and fast and rough as always, enough to rip his thoughts from his mind by force, and he tries to encourage the other by sliding his knee between his legs, but all it earns him is a soft bite to his lower lip, so he complies, forcing himself to take it slow.
Soon he melts into the other's body, shivering more than usual when Wonshik's hands travel down his sides, pulling him up to remove his shirt. He's breathless by the time they're left only in their underwear, and he feels like he might burst into tears soon, because Wonshik has been kissing his lips for so long now, and Hongbin is so aroused and so frightened by the fact that their lips meeting doesn't feel wrong anymore, that he doesn't know what to do with himself, where to place his hands, how to stop his needy whimpers from spilling out. When Wonshik finally puts his hands on him, he feels like he might come just from a light touch to his cock, and he squirms, stretches and pulls Wonshik closer still, urging him to please, please get on with it.
And when Wonshik finally eases himself into him, it's with slow thrusts, slow but firm enough to create a delicious burn when he fucks him just right. Hongbin can't think, it feels so good, and for once it doesn't hurt, not a single part of his body, apart from the forgotten burn on his shin. It rubs against his other shin when he wraps his legs around Wonshik's hips, but he doesn't register the pain, only the feeling of Wonshik moving inside of him, only the warmth that moves up his stomach with every thrust of his hips, only the way Wonshik leans his face into Hongbin's neck sometimes when he becomes too breathless to kiss him.
”Shit, shit, shit,” Wonshik curses, and the pleasure builds up so blindingly huge but so slowly, it has Hongbin gasping and moaning out loud within no time, and every time Wonshik thrusts forward he thinks he's going to come, fall over the edge, but he doesn't, and the pleasure just keeps on rising until he forgets everything else, only has space in his mind for the floating feeling in his skin, in his stomach, in his whole body. When he comes, it's with strangled gasps and fingers that shake with exertion as they're pushed into the skin of Wonshik's back. He feels like it never ends, and he can't do anything other than hang onto the other's sweaty body until Wonshik stills, hips jerking unevenly as he, too, comes, and pulls out, crashing beside Hongbin on the bed.
So that's what it feels like to be loved, Hongbin thinks. To have someone like Wonshik beside him, who sees through what Hongbin thinks he needs, to give him only what he truly needs.
He can't think. So he rolls over on his side, crawling in as closely to Wonshik as he can come, and falls asleep in his arms.
Hongbin starts allowing Wonshik to be seen with him in the school corridors at times, but they soon realize that they don't enjoy seeing each other get hurt. They can't do anything to save each other, and in the end, they're forced to realize this.
But today, at the weekly briefing, is an exception to their rules of separation.
Or so Wonshik thinks. Hongbin almost laughs to himself, would laugh if he wasn't too nervous to make a single sound. He has asked Wonshik to sit with him in the auditorium, mostly just to make sure Wonshik will at all be there - because Hongbin won't be. Not in the audience, anyway. No, he has secretly signed up to perform his and Wonshik's song in front of their whole fucking year, just like Wonshik suggested. And Hongbin sees it as what will make or break him, maybe his last single hope of surviving this school. Maybe Wonshik's, too. And that, in his mind, outweighs the horrible pace his heart is pounding at, or the sticky sweat on his hands.
It's just going to be him, his guitar and a microphone. And he knows, deep down, that he can do this.
Out on the stage, things are a little different. The students applaud him politely, but Hongbin knows they're all laughing discreetly, hiding behind their hands to escape scoldings from their teachers, and looking forward to how this freak on stage is going to embarrass himself today. He wishes there were lights, spotlights shining straight at him, because surely that would block out all these faces of people who hate him, but there are none. The entire hall is bright and right in front of him.
He can't think, can't make his mind work, but simply sits down on his chair, scans the first few rows for Wonshik's face, but doesn't find him. That's okay. Having him in his thoughts is enough.
So he plays, staring down at the floor in front of him, knowing that these words are Wonshik's, imagining the song as a lullaby, sung from Wonshik to him, and he closes his eyes, pretends Wonshik is alone in the audience, staring up at him with those same starry eyes that watched him playing in the practice room all those weeks ago.
When the song ends, he's met with silence for a few vibrating seconds, and then the whole room is filled by applause, whistles, screams and cheers, and he gets up on his shaking legs, taking a quick bow before hurrying off the stage, barely able to believe his own eyes. He did it. He did it. He was crazy enough to put himself through this madness, and they liked it. They applauded him. They fucking applauded him, after years of throwing rocks, harsh words and pointed glares, they applauded him.
He's about to boil over with pride, relief and God knows what else when he steps down on the floor at the same time as the other students get up to get to their next class. A group of girls near the front stare at him as he walks past them, and he feels like the school's first rockstar where he walks, still carrying his guitar.
Then he spots Wonshik, standing over by the door, scanning the passing crowd, no doubt trying to find Hongbin, and he's just about to run over there when he hears somebody calling his name.
”Hey, Hongbin!” a nameless boy says, one he vaguely recognizes as the boy he threw his bottle at during the party all those days ago. ”Great song, man,” the boy says, holding out his hand in a low five. Hongbin catches his hand, mind reeling even further when the boy bumps their shoulders together.
”Thanks,” he breathes, even tries to smile.
”Did you write it yourself?” A nameless girl asks from the boy's side. ”It was really good.”
”Yes, I did. With some- Yes, I did.” His eyes keep drifting towards Wonshik by the door, and the latter seems to be growing impatient where he stands.
”So cool,” the girl swoons. Hongbin can barely hear her.
They're moving towards the door when the boy speaks to him again. ”Hey, you take history with us, right?” Hongbin tears his gaze away from Wonshik to look at him.
”Uh, what? Oh, yeah. Yes, I do.”
”Wanna go with us?” the boy offers, and Hongbin feels like he might physically stop breathing.
”Sure,” Hongbin hurries. ”I just have to drop my guitar off in the practice room first.”
”No problem,” the girl says happily. ”We'll come with you.” They almost make it to the exit, Hongbin's heart beating happily in his chest, and images of him introducing Wonshik to these people and saving their future at this school fill his mind, until the girl holds out her arms and stops both Hongbin and the nameless boy from walking any further.
”Sheesh,” she says, grimacing. ”It's the new guy.”
”Oh, great,” the boy agrees. ”Come on, let's take the other exit, I don't want to go near him.”
The images fall from Hongbin's mind. He can almost hear them crash as they hit the carpet. ”Come on,” he says quietly. ”He's not that bad.”
”Not that bad?” the girl repeats, staring at him through wide eyes. ”Some friends of mine are saying they saw him kissing another guy.” She grimaces again. ”Don't tell me you guys are friends?”
Both her and the boy stare at him, and he feels himself shrinking under their gaze, feels himself falling back into his past, into his cursed future of never winning over neither himself nor anyone else, and he clenches his jaw, terrified.
”No,” he breathes in the end. ”No, we aren't.”
”Great,” the boy says. ”Then let's use the other exit.”
It hurts so badly that he has to remind himself that this illusion, this mad idea he has about love and happy endings are things he needs to put out of his mind. There's no such thing. He may have been temporarily swayed by Wonshik and his honest eyes, worn blond hair and open mind, but he's still firm in this belief. If he would have stayed with Wonshik, they might have been happy together for a short while, until one of them left (and let's face it, it would probably have been Wonshik, because who can love Hongbin once they've really gotten to know him?), and then both of them would have been alone again. Nothing would be better. At least like this, Hongbin has friends. Even if they don't truly know him, at least they speak to him. At least he's not alone. And he doesn't have to worry about being alone.
He thinks back on the things Wonshik said to him at that one party sometimes. About people, and what he saw when he looked at them: ”I see 50% people who will one day, sooner or later, look back at this time and beat themselves up for being so goddamn stupid.”
And, Hongbin supposes, it's okay to belong to those 50%. At least with them, he'll never have to be alone.