with hideous ruin and combustion, down.

but i don't want comfort. i want god, i want poetry, i want real danger, i want freedom, i want goodness, i want sin. i'm claiming the right to be unhappy.

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“I won’t ask him out. He’s really not my type. Promise.” And the request doesn’t mean more than Sungbin trying to guide him away from another bad pick, but it feels nice, sometimes. A warmth spilled underneath his skin.

he does know that, on a superficial level, but he’s kind of dumped a lot on moon tonight. so much that sungbin feels vaguely guilty about it – it’s his own burden to carry, and he’s talked a lot about how him bottling his feelings up isn’t exactly conductive, but that doesn’t mean he gets to vomit up everything that’s going on in his head over someone’s unsuspecting lap. especially since he hasn’t asked moon whether he could in the first place. but he doesn’t voice that: it’s not the right time for self-recrimination. so he says, “that’s true, i make an excellent space heater,” lets them both pretend that that’s why they like curling up in bed together so much. as if mun needs to sap his warmth.

“are they even pretty in the first place?” he feels a lot better, now that he can tease mun about trivialities again. “and do you really need to order coffee to get these? i don’t think your, like, blood pressure is gonna be happy about that.” but it’s an unspoken promise in there. that sungbin won’t complain, that this is the trade-off they’re agreeing on. or at least it feels like that to him.

sungbin makes a noise, displeased, at moon’s reply, but it’s obvious that he wants to stop talking about it, and sungbin can take a hint. knows that going down this road won’t lead to anything nice anyway, so he just blinks at moon. thinks, privately, that the kind of angry moon had gotten with him had been different. tinged in disappointment, maybe. or something even worse.

“i don’t think that’s how it works.” because if you’re not deserving of someone, that means you’ll end up feeling guilty in the meantime. and if you just ignore that you become complacent, end up walking in place instead of forward. which is the worst position sungbin could imagine himself in. “i wanted to be better. for me, but for you, too. but then i got worse, and i don’t think you get to, like, drag people down with you. even if you love them. that’s unfair to everyone. and i don’t want you to have to shoulder everything, too.” he’s read about that, online, on the rare occasion that he browses through forums relating to him. about how other people, too, feel like a burden on those they love. and mun’s already got enough insecurities.

they move on.

“you don’t think i could pull that off? i’m, like, way better looking. not to be vain, but you know i’m right.” and it’s not that bad, he doesn’t think. mun’s just being overdramatic. “yeah, but, like, if he wants good performers, he needs to pay them. it’s a two-way street. now you’re telling me about this, so we wouldn’t look his way either, and suddenly everyone knows about it.” he snorts, but mun being this adamant is cute. this little play at enragement. “you did like me for that! don’t lie! and half of your boyfriends, you can’t tell me you don’t have a type. seriously.” but, well, if slimey club owners don’t fall into that, who is sungbin to complain? pleased, he slides down a little, drags moon with him. “good. he’s not tall enough for you anyway.”

and then, when a few seconds have passed, because he’s still got enough energy but knows he’ll feel more drained with every passing moment: “we should at least get on the bed.” and he really should eat. since moon’s paid and all.

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“Into me? I mean, I don’t think. Mostly I think he just had some act drop out of a lineup and knows I can bring in a semi-decent audience, you know? But he can’t pay so it’s all…empty promises of a nebulous something.” he stretches his legs out and feels the stiff creak of a knee bent at the wrong angle for too long. “I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong. Do you remember him? Did he have a vibe? I guess I could ask him out. He’s not really my type. Honestly I hate those fucking shirts. I guess I could ask him to, like, not wear the shirt. But also he’s not my type in a general sense.” Sungbin inches in closer, like one of those overlarge dogs forcing itself into a lap and pretending it’s just as compact as a Pomeranian. Mun allows himself to be folded up close. “What d’you think?”

it's kind of moon to say that, to try and keep sungbin afloat, and years ago sungbin would’ve latched onto that. try and turn moon into a buoy, and they’ll both sink: it’s just not worth it, not when sungbin’s got so little influence on what’s going to happen to him. much easier to drag him back up when he’s low, but he knows that that costs more than most people are willing to pay, that it’s the kind of work that gets mucky and disgusting.

but he’d be a fool not to take the offer, and the talking does help. being with moon instead of alone in his bed, feeling sorry for himself. “can i. like.”, and here he hesitates, rephrases. “i know i’ll be really boring tonight,” because that’s a given and moon knows his moods better than most others, “but i can i sleep over?” he swallows, and his throat feels dry. “i don’t really want to be alone.”

given the option, his thoughts will start to spiral, he just knows this. and honestly, he’d really like a good cuddle once he feels a little less raw.

“you were pissed at me, though.” and then sungbin had gotten angry back, but any deep-seated issues had been reactionary. he supposes that’s not always easy to tell, though. sungbin had had much worse control over his temper back when, but those arguments had been immediately forgotten once he’d calmed down. “and i thought, well, he deserves better than this. and you did, don’t argue.” he’d been a mess, an ugly one. with mun and with his other friends, too; and it’s not even self-deprecation, it’s just a simple fact.

“i mean, yeah.” and there’s really not much he can say to argue against that, not really. he could’ve communicated his needs more clearly, maybe, but the what ifs are too easy to get lost in. could’ve gone worse, too, he tells himself. he’d never questioned anything, which seems to be an issue now, but he’d at least admitted that he needed help. baby steps.

moon’s kinda obvious in trying to meet sungbin’s gaze, but sungbin avoids it with long-practiced accuracy. rubs his thumb over the back of moon’s hand instead, to mollify him. “you’re not me, though. you’re like-“, and he trails off. how to put it into words that don’t sound depressing? instead, he asks moon to talk about his day, not even trying to pretend he’s not trying to change the subject. lets himself be lulled into a calmer state of mind, where he doesn’t feel like he’ll break out into tears within moments.

“no, ugh. don’t go for it.” it’s instinctive, that he scrunches up his nose at the thought, and sure, there’s jealousy playing into his aversion, but mostly if moon deserves better than sungbin, surely he deserves better than minjoon, too. “i dunno if he had a vibe, but i mean. i just thought.” who wouldn’t be into moon, really? it’s just sensible. “the shirts are kinda cool, though. some of them. he’s just not got the right image going to pull it off. but, like, if he owns the club, why can’t be pay you? that’s bullshit.” trash talking people with moon is always fun, and he could use some of that. especially when it’s about freeloaders. “i kinda thought he might be, y’know. he works out.” they should probably get off the floor sometime soon, and sungbin needs to finish his food, too. but sitting here, like this, feels good. like it’s all real, and he just needs to focus on this moment and everything will be fine and less of a shitshow. “don’t ask him out, moon, please, you’ll eviscerate the rest of my sanity of he shows up while we’re hanging out and tries to talk to me. he’s just so… slimey.”

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“Then I went to meet you, and I was also talking to Minjoon, do you remember Minjoon? Like, kind of weird and always wearing those funky little Hawai’ian shirts? Anyway, he wanted me to play at a club he apparently owns - did you know he owned a club? Did I know that? - for free. So I was obviously like um, for fuck’s sake Minjoon. No. I need money to pay my electricity bill. Jesus Christ. And he was like, I’ll make it worth your while, which like, first of all how? So I hung up on him. Then you came out.” It hadn’t been a particularly eventful morning, but Mun can turn near-anything into a long-running monologue if you ask him to.  

mun’s probably right. it is just the words changing after all, nothing about the underlying condition: the problem is that sungbin had thought he’d figured it out, that the only reason why nothing seemed to be working was himself. and now, being told that it wasn’t his fault, that should be a relief. he knows that, consciously. but it doesn’t feel like it at all, because it seems like he’s having to start again, five years down the drain. and maybe, if he was less exhausted now, maybe he’d find it in him to be angry about it. at the world and at the people who had diagnosed him, the fact that nobody, not until now, had ever questioned that very first decision. that he never had either, when he’s supposed to be an expert on his own condition. combined, it just makes him feel worse. the should’ves and could’ves of his past heaping up into a mountain that seems impossible to climb.

it feels pathetic though, to say any of this out loud, and to burden mun any further. especially because mun’s sat through so many of his problems with him: had picked him up, earlier today, let him slip into the window seat and tune out the world. hadn’t complained even once that sungbin’s been bland to be around, had even gotten them food, all without comment. sometimes, sungbin thinks back on all mun has done for him, and feels himself lacking sorely in comparison. so he simply shrugs his shoulders now. thinks about burying his face somewhere it can’t be seen, but that’d involve movement.

“yeah, i guess.” it’s likely that it shows in his tone that he remains unconvinced, but there’s nothing to be done about that. “you’re right. but it’s, like-“, and here he paused for a moment, swallows. “it’s so hard to be positive about this right now.” there’s to hoping mun isn’t angling for any of that, because he doesn’t think he can say it and mean it, and he doesn’t believe in lip service around the people he loves.

and it’s the wrong time to talk about this, their breakup and all the things leading up to it, but now he’s caught up in a spiral that feels endless. all this guilt, years that feel like they’ve been taken from him, even though it probably isn’t like that at all. he just can’t parse that, not now. “i mean. it was still me, right? like, can’t blame it on the drugs.” even though that’s exactly what he’s been doing. “i chose to take them, so. like, i could’ve stopped, right?” and he’s done that, though he’s not so sure mun knows about that. spent weeks weaning himself off, went back on -  a weird cycle of energy he couldn’t make sense of. he’d felt better off them, more energetic, but never for long. pick your poison; neither option feels feasible.

they’ve never talked about it, is the thing. but sungbin doesn’t want to do that now, not when he’s feeling himself coming apart at the seams, so he says nothing in reply. tips his head to the side to rest against mun’s shoulder, tries to breathe through the knot in his throat.

“if that’s it, there’s no point.” no point worth sticking around for, he means, but it’s not something he wants to get into either, with anyone but least of all mun. none of the people in his life need to know how fatalistic sungbin’s thoughts sometimes skew, how his interior monologue is more pessimistic than it ought to be. but they don’t delve into that, not that much, because then mun’s talking, the cadence of his voice so familiar that it does wonders to calm sungbin. it’s easier, when he doesn’t have to reply. and mun has always been able to ramble on about anything, if you give him enough incentive (or none at all, when he’s excited).

so he lets it wash over him, turns mun’s hand over in his palm to trace his knuckles. manages to get that urge to cry squashed down a little, at least, and at the end of it he’s a little less shaky overall. not great, or even fine, but he’s made a turn on the road that would’ve led him to a full on breakdown, so that’s something. “what,” and he has to clear his throat before he goes on, “is he into you? minjoon? was he coming on to you?” and then, because he feels like it and mun’s never opposed, he drags him closer, fits his chin over the crown of mun’s head. the angle’s awkward, but he’s making it work.

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“You can do anything you put your dumb stubborn brain to.”

Cliché, but in the moment it seems like something that would be nice to hear.

sungbin’s hair is still wet. it’s all he can think of, for a moment; he’s getting mun’s shirt damp, it can’t be comfortable for mun to lean against him like this. and it all boils down to something that’s an innate worry with him: sungbin’s a burden, and has been for a long time. this is just a small symptom of the disease, but it’s something that has been simmering for all these years, been shown again and again when it’d been made obvious that sungbin isn’t particularly reliable.

the worst thing is, there’s nothing he can really do about this, not now. couldn’t even if he wanted to, if the had the necessary energy; hair takes time to dry, and he doesn’t have any of that. and apologising won’t help, either, because the damage is done. it’s a small detail that almost has him in hysterics before he catches himself, swallows dry. lets mun pull him closer in a way that sungbin doesn’t usually let himself be held; their positions are usually flipped when they’re sitting like this. it feels selfish, to enjoy the contact.

mun’s words help, because they sound rational, but they don’t really sink in. as much as sungbin wants to believe him, he can’t. he’s too frustrated to do anything but breathe through the knot in his chest. “but it still feels the same.” and maybe that’s the core of the issue. there’s a part of him that expects him to feel different, now. like a lightbulb moment out of a comic: a world that suddenly shifts into alignment. but there’s nothing like that, just uncertainty. “and if the first thing wasn’t right, why should the second be? they could be wrong again.”

it’s unfair of him to dump this on mun, who’s entirely unqualified, who doesn’t often talk sungbin through breakdowns. sungbin knows that, deep down. but now that he’s opened his mouth it’s difficult to stop. “i know. but. like.” and he has to take a moment to recollect, reaches up to press his palm against his eye. applies enough pressure that it hurts. “i couldn’t get it up because of those drugs, and i know you were pissed about that, and i felt like shit about it. and then you got upset because i was like that.”

they’ve never actually spoken about that. mun can’t actually know what side effects sungbin’s first antidepressants had, because sungbin’s never told him. but he doesn’t realise that, now that he’s focused on an entirely different matter. and he still feels bad about all those dates he’d rainchecked on, even if they don’t talk about those things anymore.

there’s part of him that really just wants to lie down, curl up and ask mun to go on a walk so he can cry by himself. but getting up on the bed feels like a monumental effort now, and he can’t kick mun out of his own apartment anyway. not that he’d want to.

and it’s sweet, how hard mun tries. it kind of makes him feel worse. especially because mun doesn’t know about all the things sungbin has given up on over the years, all those little broken deals he’d made with himself and never told anyone about because he didn’t want to be held accountable. but being negative won’t help, not when mun is going to be forced to cycle through different ways of saying the same thing, and sungbin isn’t sure he can stand hearing it now. so he says, “i hope so,” tries to force back tears and is mostly successful. there’s panic building within him that he squashes down as best as he can. sungbin reaches for mun’s hand, tabs his finger against mun’s thumb. squeezes his eyes shut as he attempts to slow his breathing. “can you just… just tell me what you got up to? today?” a distraction would be nice.

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“Even if it’s…like, even if he’s right. You’re still Sungbin. Having a word doesn’t change you, right? So you’re not becoming like anything. You’re just staying the same.” maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut continuously, finds himself chewing on his lower lip and wondering if he’s making everything worse. “I still love you. Your friends all still love you. Having a word for something won’t make any of that go away.” a truth he hasn’t shied away from, and it’s not the first time he’s said it - a staunch defender of platonic love, even if what he’s had with Sungbin has blurred the lines a bit. 

sometimes, sungbin feels like he should be used to it, the divide between expectations and reality. when he’d first been diagnosed years ago, depression had been depicted as something pretty online. pictures of artistically crying girls in black and white, that scene of bella waiting for edward, months passing by outside like something beautiful. he’d known it’d be ugly, instead, with the way he’d lose his temper, get irritated sometimes at the smallest problems. his deterioration when he couldn’t get himself to get up and just wash his face, felt something twist inside him because he knew he should.

it had looked different in his mum, when he’d been younger and grown up in a house that always felt oppressively full. but sungbin’s never put much stock into being the status quo, has never tried to compare himself to her. but he’d always assumed, somehow, that if in nothing else, they were the same in this. and now that bubble’s been burst, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. doesn’t know how he’s supposed to tell his family, either, when this feels so much worse.

the touch helps, but that’s less because of his nerves firing and more because mun’s proximity always seems to do, even on the few occasions when sungbin’s supremely annoyed at him. so he returns it; squeezes mun’s fingers tight enough for his knuckles to turn white before he catches himself, loosens his grip. “i like your rambling.” his voice feels wet when the words dislodge themselves from his throat. probably sounds like it, too, but he feels like his head has been shoved underwater. can barely hear himself. and maybe mun’s right, that sungbin doesn’t really want to hear what he says, either, the reassurances he can’t stomach just yet. but the cadence of mun’s chatter is so familiar that it feels like an anchor.

he ends up slumping into mun’s side when he scoots closer, buries his face in the junction of his neck. vulnerable like this, sungbin always hides. mun should be used to that by now. “i thought,” and he has to swallow past the lump in his throat, “i thought i could change. that it’d go away at some point.” he hadn’t even realised that he’d been thinking about his condition that way until now, when he’s admitting to it. but there’d always been that hope, that he’d wake up fixed one day. with a functioning brain and more capacity for the things he should be doing.

“but this is never going to go away. there’s no fucking cure for this, it’s just gonna be the same thing over and over, forever, and everything ‘til now has been a fuckin’ waste-“, and he would be shaking now, were his hold on mun not so tight. sungbin lets out a rough breath, lets his head thumb back against the bed. “and we broke up for those drugs they put me on and it wasn’t even worth it, because we have to start from scratch again, and i just. i don’t think i can do this again.”

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“You wanna talk about it?” he slips his fingers around the underside of Sungbin’s wrist and squeezes, can feel the scatter of Sungbin’s pulse against his palm.

it’s not even caffeination that’s the problem – usually coffee messes with sungbin in one way or another he doesn’t enjoy – but it’s obvious that neither of them are in the right mood to take care of mun’s closet right now, and sungbin doesn’t actually want to stick his nose where mun doesn’t want it. it’s fine if he’s asked for help; it’s not really when he’s made it his own project without asking input. anyway, sungbin’s sincerely putting the offer out there, but it’s mostly a reflex, him trying to somewhere divert attention away from himself even though he knows that it won’t work well long-term.

it clicks into place, in retrospect, even though he really doesn’t get it yet. because sometimes sungbin’s brimming with enough energy to want to tackle issues like this. to start reorganizing his entire room, throw out the trash accumulating beneath his bed and wash all the dishes in his vicinity. clean up the bathroom, too, after he’s done with his bedroom, and then the kitchen. but then, suddenly, the mood will be gone, and he’ll be back on the couch wondering why he feels like shit again, and endless cycle.

sungbin doesn’t think about that now. instead, he showers, dresses, heads back into mun’s living space. sits across from him and chews on his bread, swallows even though his throat feels a little dry. feels like his insides have been stirred like a cauldron with extra-gross ingredients mixed in. and then mun asks that question, and sungbin knows how he’s supposed to take it, but it’s unsettling anyway. that mun, despite how much he tries to keeps a working façade, sees right through that and knows that sungbin isn’t fine. it almost feels like a callout of sorts.

so he shrugs. lets silence sit between them as he tries to figure out how to shape his feelings into words, twists his hand to link mun’s fingers with his own. “not that i’m fine, but like, he thought my old psychologist hadn’t been asking the right questions. so he had me do another interview with him, and now he thinks i’m bipolar, and that’s why the meds haven’t been working. and it’s been five years, right? and we never found, like, the right thing for me to take.” but it’s been five years, and he’s never quite made peace with depression, and bipolar feels so much bigger, more serious. he’s seen it used as a shitty trope on tv; maybe that’s why like it feels like there’s an abyss opening up below him. “so i guess that might be right, but it’s a lot to deal with. and i don’t want to be like that, so. i really don’t want it to be true.”

there’s a thread unravelling where the logo is sewn onto his sweatpants, and he puts his sandwich down, picks at it with his free hand. it’s impossible to look at mun right now. “i’m terrified of this, honestly.”

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“Should I ask you how you’re doing or are you all talked out of things now?” Mun stretches a foot under the table as he says it, lets toes collide with the curve of Sungbin’s knee. “We can watch a movie or something if you just wanna destress.” 

there might be a pattern there, between mun’s need to warn sungbin of a mess in his space and the heaviness weighing on sungbin’s shoulders. and maybe that’s coincidence; maybe mun’s noticed how sungbin, when sinking deep into a slump, stops cleaning up after himself, how a messy nightstand will send him spiralling further when he can’t find any of his shit. maybe he’s just reading too much into the comment. but either way: it’s sweet, when sungbin’s used to so much worse from mun’s cramped little apartment, and on a better day it’d make him smile. like this, and it’s a spark of amusement in his gut, a certain fondness that’s reserved for mun.

“you can’t, but the stuff you have crumpled up takes up more space than folded clothes.” no doubt there’s laundry hidden in the crevices, too. and sungbin would spend more time dwelling on this, but then he’s shed his outdoor clothes and suddenly feels grimy all over, now that he can actually do something about it. so he rubs at an eye, considers for a moment whether it’s worth the energy, arrives at a conclusion right away and tugs his own stolen sweatpants out of the dresser, a hoodie that might be his or something of mun’s that’s just really oversized.

he does acknowledge the comment about the body wash, but it’s little more than a grunt. tries it out: it leaves his skin smooth in a way that feels comforting. no doubt a single one of mun’s products costs more than all of sungbin’s combined. afterwards, once he’s dried off and dressed, he doesn’t feel like an entirely new person, but he does feel improved, which is a step forward he hadn’t expected. waits in the bathroom for an additional moment to listen to the strumming of mun’s guitar, but the desire to curl up in bed wins out quickly after that.

“beef. or we can share.” it’s not really important enough for sungbin to have a strong opinion on this, when mun asks him. he plops down in the space he always occupies on mun’s floor, waits for him to get the setup for dinner going. gives a half-hearted shrug as he pops open the tab of the box. “tired. still processing.” it’s not that he doesn’t want to eat, but how neutral he feels on the subject really tells it all. sungbin works his jaw, then forces himself to take a bite. “this is good, mun, thanks.”

a slice of his meat threatens to take a dive towards the table, and sungbin rescues it last second. sits there quiet afterwards, tries to figure out whether telling now will be easier than later. but there’s frustration clawing up his throat that makes him want to cry, and mun deserves a warning at least.

“my new doc doesn’t think i’ve got depression.”

[cassaps]

epilogue.

mvnshine​:

“Hungry now? If you want to nap or something I can work on music or whatever.” Mun offers as he unwinds the plastic bag handles from his wrist, rubs away those angry red welted lines, flexes his fingers and waits for the pins and needles to stop prodding at his nerve endings. 

sungbin got used to therapy being tiring sometime during his second month out of group, when he’d stopped telling himself that he wasn’t allowed to be exhausted afterwards. that doesn’t mean that it gets easier, though, or any less difficult to accept. he feels like he’s been microwaved when he exits the building, with his insides left cold and the outside a unpleasant texture. so it’s a relief that he spots mun waiting in front of the building instead of letting him know over text where to meet him, that he can lean into him for a few precious moments before he has to drag himself back up, follow mun towards the bus station.

any other day, and he’d probably offer to carry mun’s bag for him. today, he lets himself be handled: lets mun decide on where they’re going, lets him nudge him into the window seat sungbin only rarely takes for himself and lets him choose the music, too. this would probably be the moment in a coming of age movie where he’d lean his temple against a window slick with condensation, really let the movements on the bus rattle through him. instead, he presses his elbow against mun’s through the fabric of their jackets, closes his eyes and trusts that mun will say something when their stop comes up.

it’s nice that he doesn’t feel like he has to pretend anymore with mun. that, even though usually they fill their time with chatter, they can sit in companionable silence for a while and let the world pass by them, just until sungbin’s gathered the energy to talk again. and so they stay quiet even while they’re getting off the bus and walk towards the apartment complex. “you know i don’t care about that,” a reminder even though he’s sure mun won’t start overthinking the state of his space. sungbin’s certainly seen chaos sweep through it before, and his room has looked even worse at times. “it’s nice that you tried, though. maybe we can do something about all this sometime.” when he’s not this tired; right now that sort of thing feels impossible.

his shoes are left next to mun’s, his jacket on the pile of outerwear mun’s got going near the door. sungbin’s not hungry, but he never really is when he’s exhausted, so that means nothing. “yeah, sure. food, i mean. just- let me shower first.” there’s something about those offices that seems to cling to his skin, makes him feel gross. sungbin doesn’t wait for mun to say anything in return – there’s no point when he knows the answer – and squeezes his shoulder in passing instead, hunts down something that will fit him in the usual space and starts the shower a minute or two after. feels a lot better when he gets out and rejoins mun; less on edge, more like a human being again.

there’s something like ritual to this, so he sinks into mun’s bed after, scoots over into the corner to leave space because sometimes, like this, it feels good to be a little boxed in. “what’d you get us?” his voice comes out quiet, but there’s less of that airy quality to it, so there’s an improvement. maybe he won’t be entirely useless over the course of the evening.

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

“We can have takeout at your place.” he says that part a little more softly, tucked up near Sungbin’s ear, the teasing’s gone. He squeezes at Sungbin’s arm once to reassure him. “Okay, beach. Are you gonna jump in the water or take a picture of me?” he slips out from underneath Sungbin’s arm, but grabs at his hand as he goes. 

“what, a broken nose?” a batch of honour doesn’t quite fit it, because sungbin isn’t as proud of his scars as he used to be when he was a teen and eager for a fight, didn’t know that he was itching for an environment he could control when everything else had gone to shit around him. now, and he’s long used to his sister being somewhere far away, to the way his brain works. is more willing to confront his hangups around those issues, too. so he wouldn’t be glad if he accumulated another mark on his body, but it’s not like he’d mind either, not exactly. sungbin’s never been particularly vain.

he lets mun shove him even though he probably could’ve avoided the push, drags him with him when he has to sidestep before regaining his equilibrium. “no, i mean, i’m just thinking. could be nice, right? and that’s like, no effort.” piercings feel so much less permanent than tattoos, so sungbin sometimes gets something done on a whim only to let it grow closed within a few months if he’s not into it as much as he thought he would be. nothing as extreme as that tongue piercing he knows mun still thinks about sometimes, though. nothing that won’t heal well on it’s own. “in winter maybe. off-season.” meaning swimming. “something to think about.”

it’s cute that mun thinks about it that way. karma, and all the things that it drags along with it. sungbin’s life experience points towards two options: either he’s been building up a massive account to cash in on later, or he’d been a really bad fucking person in a past life, which just means that he’d rather not believe in that stuff at all. but it’s easy to see how mun might. “hmm. manifesting good things, that kinda thinking? i guess.” just not when it’s about his head. sungbin gently jostles mun’s shoulder, where he’s still holding onto him. “it’s a nice thought, at least. and i don’t wanna knock it if it’s true, but, like, when do you think i’ll get paid?” if he weren’t trying desperately to keep the conversation light, to not get depressive in that way he doesn’t allow himself to around mun, he’d mention that he’s broke. out of anything he could use to pay the landlord keeping his brain cockroach-free and the ventilation going. that talk would ruin a perfectly fine day, though, and so he swallows down the words.

“yeah, talking about you is, like, my favourite pastime.” he says it in a way that’s clearly a joke, but it isn’t, not really. sungbin genuinely does like talking about mun. “we just wouldn’t want to talk about me at all. but then that money could be better invested in taking you to dinner or something.” feels like less of a waste of time, too, that. “and my food isn’t gross, you’re just picky.”

if mun actually wants to choose what to order, sungbin won’t have any issues with it; he can eat almost anything anyway, and mun knows him well enough. so he shrugs, hides a smile in mun’s hair when he ducks down to bump their heads together. “sure. you can bring whatever.” and then the moment breaks, and he tugs at mun’s hand to get him to stop for a moment, let him slip out of his sneakers. “if you want pics, we should take them now. lighting’s good.”

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

“Could you like…type up a letter or something? Like, hey, I really hate intros. So here’s my about me and relevant things you should know and also my best friend is basically famous and so cool and here’s a link to his latest EP?” Mun cuts at himself trying to be helpful with just a bit of humor, an attempt to keep their conversation comfortable. “If you need help with anything, I can. I’m not totally useless all the time.”

mun has no idea that he’s hitting on an open wound when he says it, but sungbin truly can’t be sure he isn’t misremembering: there’s that memory impairment he’s come face to face with more than once, at the very least. but he’d probably know if he was wrong about this, so he doesn’t consider the idea for longer than a moment, shrugs. “you know, if that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, i won’t destroy your little fantasy.” he can’t help but roll his eyes at the dramatics after that, but it’s fond more than anything. “fine, that’s a deal. if you do ever get into a fistfight. and what will you do if mine gets broken while i rescue you, huh?”

sungbin never really notices how stuffy the air inside his car gets until he’s left, and now the breeze hits him and he breathes in deeply, lets the smell of saltwater settle in his lungs. it doesn’t feel like home – it’s not like sungbin’s grown up near the sea – but it almost feels like it should. like he belongs to the ocean, as sappy as it sounds. “you have so many fans who would be unbearable in a car with you for more than ten minutes. you should be grateful.” he considers, then, when mun mentions piercings. “i could get a nose ring, y’know. do you think i should get a nose ring?”

it feels good, to have mun leaning into his side. to slide his arm around his shoulders and fit his palm to mun’s upper arm, where it feels like it rightfully belongs. sungbin’s less content to discuss the current subject, but he’d been the one to bring it out, and he’s learned that sometimes it’s better to use a friend as a soundboard lest his thoughts start running in circles, chasing each other’s tails. so he says “yeah, probably,” and doesn’t really mean it. he’s not certain there are meds that will actually work for him, but he doesn’t want to bring down the mood that much. it’s just not worth it.

“if it’s karma, i’ve got a bone to pick. like, really, i think i deserve better than all this.” he uses his free hand to gesture broadly, although truly everything about this trip should be nice: the atmosphere around them, mun next to him, even the sneakers he’s wearing. the problem is that even on a day that’s supposed to be nice, he’s overthinking. “i know it’ll be fine it’s just that i don’t really want to start. but i know that’s the hardest part, so.”

and it’s not like the suggestion is bad. a personal presentation of those very basic facts would probably be better, but sungbin doesn’t really like repeating himself, and mun’s right in suggesting it. “you know, if i lead with you, they’re not gonna want to talk about me. they’ll just be asking me about you.” somehow, somewhere in there, a smile has made it back on his face. “you can meet me after. grab dinner.” cuddle, he doesn’t say, but that usually makes him feel better when he’s exhausted, and mun makes for a perfect candidate.

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

He knows he sees a therapist, he knows Sungbin struggles, but he doesn’t know what’s best for Sungbin personally when he’s in a rough patch, how he should act. He doesn’t pry, not anymore, trying to force himself inside the boundary of Sungbin’s mental health concerns when they were dating only made things worse for them. Sungbin seems to appreciate space, and so since their break up Mun’s adhered to that. But when Sungbin brings it up, situations like this, he’ll try to talk to him. Not because he’s nosy (well, he is, but not when it comes to this), but because he does genuinely want to know. Wants to help. He fits himself into Sungbin’s side and looks out at the ocean, “and it’s a referral at least, so. I mean, if your current therapist likes them then maybe there’s a similar vibe or methodology, right? It could be an easy transition.”

“if it’s untrue, why do i have to keep hitching you up my back, huh? you’ve almost fallen into a ditch, like, at least three times i can think of, and not a single one of those instances was my fault, what with you suddenly turning into dead weight.” sungbin’s complaining, but he’s doing it in a way that reads as something closer to fond than truly exasperated or annoyed. “at least most people don’t actually start punching even when they say they will. all bark, no bite. but if you end up in a fight, you run, and then you call me.” nevermind that sungbin will probably be asleep and that his phone will be on silent: mun always finds a way to reach him. “and then i’ll swoop in there twenty minutes later in my beauty of a car and show them what’s up.”

honestly, it’s probably better that way, too. for mun to wait to get a license, if he ever will. mostly because there’s not a lot of practice one can get in a city where owning a car is mostly a nuisance, and mun seems like the type of person who would avoid driving after getting the slip of paper allowing him, and then get nervous in the rare instances when he has to sit behind the wheel. “and yet you call me to pick you up. what does that make me, huh? your driver?” he’s grinning through the word, reaches out to nudge mun’s side. “foot massages are fine, i guess, but still. kinda gross. don’t get me wrong, that’s not on you, but. hindsight, y’know?” he hadn’t even known about the guy until he’d been mentioned by hyeju. “and not that scandalous, surely, if you can fund entirely new shoes with this.”

there’s a moment when he considers tapping his thumb against mun’s the way he used to, a quiet reassurance, but he doesn’t end up doing it. just shrugs at the question posed at him. “i like myself fine, that’s not it. but i don’t need proof that i was there when i remember, y’know? and when i took the picture. it’s just not that important to me.” and maybe he could like himself a little more without getting annoying about it, but that’s entirely situational. sometimes, and sungbin feels like he could take on the world by himself. it evens out.

he laughs when mun bumps into him, just drags him with him by his hand when he sidesteps the nudge. “nah, i feel like it’s not doing shit. and i get tired.” there’s so much more he could say about the various meds he’s been on, but he’s spared mun the details for so long that he’s not going to start complaining about this now. “and it’s annoying, right, because my coach asked me whether i’d switched over, and turns out i’ve been doing worse, but, like, that’s the tradeoff i guess.” nothing about it is ideal, but it’s the best of the evils he’s tried out, which really isn’t saying a lot.

it’s the thought of having to go through all that again that makes him hesitant. and now, after so many years, he’s starting feeling a little helpless, like a pool of dread opening up in his stomach. sungbin does his best not to think about it, spiral like that – and he certainly never talks about it, either – but it feels like it won’t ever get better, and sometimes that thought is unbearable. “yeah, probably.” he doesn’t really believe it when he says it, but he knows there’s logic to the things mun is saying, that he’s being needlessly negative about this. has been trying to shake himself out of that mindset to no avail. “i just wish i could skip ahead a little. get all the introductions and stuff out of the way.”

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

It quiets down in the way that often feels suffocating to Mun, so he offers out another branch of conversation. Glances over at Sungbin’s profile when he does pick it up. He rolls the words around in his head for a bit before he answers, “so, will you get a new doctor?” He swallows down another hiccup, mostly unsuccessfully. “I’m really being serious. I can’t stop. Sorry.” he skims in closer, winds his arm around Sungbin’s in a small, portable hug before letting himself drift out again. “Do you need help with anything?”

they drop the topic, and sungbin’s glad for it, even when it leaves the kind of bitter aftertaste he know he’ll feel seeping into his bones when he ends up overthinking late at night, the world as asleep around him as seoul ever gets and his mind whirring. getting irritated is one thing; getting irritated at mun, who rarely does anything to warrant it, is an entirely different beast, one he’s unsure he’ll ever be able to tame. and he does try, but then control slips through his fingers like sand, and he’s left standing there with nothing but the damage he’s done and a deep-seated feeling of regret.

“i hate to break this to you, but, like, almost every single time i’ve carried you home you were in danger of slipping down at some point. your koala clinging is very effective on the couch, but not so much when you’re meant to hold on.” it’d probably be different if mun was sober, but this entire scenario is built on him being at a bar or something similar, and mun rarely says no to a drink. at least the subject change does its intended job of getting him to smile. “if you were sober, you’d just disengage. and, like, not call me to defend your honour. or pick you up, depending.” mun would probably whine about it the next time they met up, though. “the way it works is you’re sitting on your motorbike, and your instructor follows you in a car or something. it’d be hot if you wanted, but i’m way better with cars if you’re banking on repair advice down the road. fair warning.”

he does wish he hadn’t mentioned mun’s ex, the foot fetishist, but sungbin can never keep his trap shut, and it’s prime material for teasing. “i really don’t think i would let someone, honestly. like, there are boundaries, y’know?” which is laughable, coming from the guy who frequently lets his ex sit in his lap. but sungbin’s unlikely to get called out for that one right now. “jesus, abort the fucking mission, you’re not wearing those sandals. think of how much cash you could make, and you’re gonna let people see for nothing on the train!”

it’s a good thing they stop when they do, especially after that riveting conversation. and it feels right, when they start walking towards the beach with mun’s hand in his. natural in a way it probably shouldn’t. “maybe, but if they’re pictures for me, i don’t need to, like, admire the view that much, y’know? i don’t love myself enough for that.” and then, when he notices mun hiccupping, he leans down to blow air against the back of his neck to startle him, squeezes his hand immediately after.

“i’m gonna have to. because i can’t do online, i get too distracted, and obviously i’m not gonna travel that much.” sungbin doesn’t really like thinking about it, about having to get used to someone else knowing too much about his inner workings. opening up doesn’t really get easier the more you do it. “he’s gonna refer me to someone, we’ll see. i just really don’t want to start that cycle with the meds again.” mun draws away after leaning into his side, but sungbin reels him back in by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. mun’s kind of the perfect height for it.

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

“Let’s go find the sand first then,” he pulls at Sungbin’s hand as he lists their way in the direction of the sand strip they’d seen earlier. Had seemed like it was dotted with people, but not as crowded as it could have been. “Is there anything you want to talk about though, like, actually? I feel like I stole all the spotlight in the car.”

mun says it so easily, as if it should be a given, but sungbin doesn’t believe him. not like this; not when his opinion counts for something when he’s being serious, when mun listens to him on occasion. if sungbin truly got pissed off because mun complained too much – if he constantly told him to cut it out – he probably would stop, just to make sungbin happy. so he tries to catch it when he’s dangerously close to something like that happening, tries to reassure mun that he didn’t mean it that way, because he never does. he certainly doesn’t want mun to change for him. but he doesn’t voice out his concerns, doesn’t want to keep tainting the mood. “yeah, i guess not.” the smile on his lips when he says it is weak, but it exists, and that’s already a step up. “it shouldn’t happen, but, like – there’s no point in going on about it, if you’re not upset. so.” sungbin kind of is, but it’s not mun’s responsibility to cheer him up when he’s the one at the receiving end of sungbin’s temper.

“i mean, i guess. i like the aesthetics of it.” sungbin does fit the bill of someone you might imagine on a motorbike, out late at night. it’s part of the reason why he doesn’t want to buy into it. “but that’s really not right for me. and, like, how would you hold on if you were drunk? so unsafe.” maybe mun’s right, though, about sungbin using it in one of those games; it certainly has an appeal to it. “now, i guess if you wanted to learn--,” and he says it with a grin, teasing.

and then there’s that image making its way into his head, of mun sitting in front of him, eyes closed, while sungbin drags one of those tiny brushes across his skin, colours his eyelids in something glittering the way mun would probably appreciate. he tries to shove it away – it’s got nothing to do with their trip – but he can’t banish it completely, knows it’ll stick around stubbornly. “i shall give her as much respect as she’s owed.” he laughs when mun tugs at his shirt in protest, lets him twist the fabric without swatting his hand away. “what, did you send him that shit before you broke up? oh my, mun…”

he busies himself parking the car after that, gets out and grabs his stuff from the trunk. locks the car and lets mun take him by the hand and drag him towards the vague direction of the beach. “nah. i’ve got enough pics, i don’t need to be in them to remember.” sungbin prefers tangible mementos anyway; a smooth rock, a seashell, something he can touch to think back on the times that were had.

they start walking, and sungbin adjusts the weight of the bag to sit a little more squarely against his back. takes a long moment to think about whether to bring it up, but he does sort of want to say it out loud, and mun’s going to know eventually either way. “my brain doctor’s moving. like, soonish.”

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

“You want any pictures or you just wanna chill?” Mun asks him as they walk, hands swaying loose between them. He doesn’t mind playing photographer if Sungbin wants something, but he doesn’t always want something. “Take one with me at least, I won’t even make you do fifty retakes.” he promises, though whether or not he breaks it could very well be up in the air.

sungbin feels more than sees mun leaning in until his head hits against his shoulder, and it’s that touch that has the knot in his stomach loosening. mun’s always been easy to read by the way he seeks out contact: if he’s getting closer, he’s probably really not mad, is honest in his reassurance. “yeah, but it’s cute when you complain. you get all huffy. i don’t want you to stop because you think it’s too much.” it can get grating, granted, but sungbin knows how to distract mun when he gets like that. “i don’t even know why i got annoyed, it’s that stupid. you did nothing to warrant that.”

but then, when sungbin gets upset, there’s usually no good reason. it’s why he drives so many people away in his anger, why so few can handle it when it boils over into something explosive. because sometimes it’s unprompted, and afterwards sungbin has to examine the pieces and try to fit them together, but it never works out.

“mun, i can’t ride a motorbike. i’d land in the hospital right before you would.” he’d thought about it, as a teenager. that it’d work for his image, and be cool anyway. but his grandmother – who, hypocrite that she is, actually has one in her garage – had told him not to tempt fate like that. and looking back, she’d probably been right. it’s much easier to end up dead – or to do stupid stuff – on a bike. “i can’t believe you’re disrespecting my baby like that, seriously. she’d never break down! but, like, she’s a turtle. you gotta give her time.” he rolls his eyes for the drama, but he’s grinning. “well, one kick man then. now, if you knew how to throw a punch-“, but he doesn’t elaborate on that.

“i wouldn’t offer if i didn’t know what i’m doing, y’know.” it’s a job he’s done more than once, before they’ve gone on stage. only rarely on himself because he doesn’t like the feeling of it, but he’s gotten his practice in. and then minsung continues talking, walking into the same joke sungbin had, and he laughs even when he’s told not to. “well, babe, if only you would’ve said so-“, but he does shut up after that. “you know what, good. i don’t want to talk about that fuckin’ foot fetish guy, the dude that asked you for pics, like, months later? that was so creepy.”

they don’t end up having to delve into that subject, which is probably for the better. sungbin exits the car once he’s collected his phone, slams the door shut, and loops around to grab the gym bag in which he keeps towels, slippers, and what he’s pretty sure is a half-empty water bottle just in case. “i’m coming, i’m coming.” mun’s basically vibrating where he’s waiting, so sungbin juggles the items in his hands until he’s locked up the car and slug the bag over his shoulder. it’s moments later that he takes mun’s hand and links their fingers.

“i don’t need pics, but i’ll take yours.” at this point, years into whatever they have, he’s gotten pretty good at telling what mun wants from him, and which pictures are likely to make the cut. “we can take something together later. i just want to walk barefoot on the beach.”

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

“I guess, rocks are more like…original though, everyone’s posting beach pictures now.” it’s hot enough that everyone’s willing to drag themselves out to the sound, not that Mun is necessarily adverse to following the trends, though he is sometimes expected to sidestep them given the image he’s cultivated. “Not too far, just turn up here…and straight for like…three? Five minutes?” The car rolls along at a slower pace until they find a lot, weather worn but still functioning enough that the lever lifts when they tap at the button, a handful of spaces left for Sungbin to slide his car into before Mun pulls himself free and stretches out stiff joints.

sungbin does know that, but it still doesn’t make him feel good, not when he’s dragged it out of mun like an expectation. and it’s not like that, even though he’d framed it as an exchange before. he doesn’t actually want mun to feel obligated to buy him dinner for sungbin to carry him home, not when sungbin would do it for mun for free, because that’s what decent friends do. and now he’s frustrated at himself and the things that come out of his mouth when he’s not watching himself, the way he got irritated over nothing at all. he’s been getting better about it – not getting like this in the first place, or catching himself before it turns into an argument – but it’s still not good enough, and he knows, deep down, that mun deserves better. knows that his hand would probably be shaking if he hadn’t tangled his fingers with mun’s.

“i don’t want you to feel obligated. ever. i didn’t mean it like that.” not that mun is, but sungbin’s never sure what’s going on in his head, and he wouldn’t put it past mun to feel like he has to, now that sungbin’s put it out there. “and, like, i don’t want you to think that you can’t complain at me either.”

the dyed parts are growing out, but they’ve had this conversation before, and sungbin’s not really qualified to give any advice. but he’s still glad for the topic change, hums at the back of his throat in reply. “it still looks nice. i know it’s not up to your standards, but it does, y’know. don’t overthink it.” he lets go of minsung’s hand to shift, and regrets the loss of it immediately. “you think traffic is good enough at night for me to get there in twenty? that’s real optimistic.” but he’s smiling around it, because it’s nice to know that minsung’s willing to reply on him like that. “no, like, you’re one punch man. you hit them where it hurts, then you run. that’s how it works.” that’d be best-case scenario for mun, at least.

“we need to steal it off one of the girls, i don’t own any. but it’ll be pretty, i promise.” if he an figure out how to apply it on mun, and they don’t start laughing halfway through. but sungbin’s decent with a brush, and he’s got all that secondhand knowledge soaked up, so they’ll probably be fine.

thank god for that. sungbin doesn’t actually want to be at the top of the ex food chain; he’d much rather be in a different category altogether. the thing is, he can’t really say that now without opening a huge, well-preserved can of worms, so he doesn’t. he’s not that stupid. “you’re on top of the friend food chain, though. don’t pout.” mun’s sharing that spot with the girls, but that’s implied and obvious anyway. “look, just because we didn’t complain doesn’t mean we liked them. who’s your best ex then, huh, if it’s not me?”

if sungbin were to start worrying about the originality of the locations for his instagram pictures, he’d probably be growing grey hair. but what mun wants, mun gets – he follows the route he’s showing him on the phone. “we can go there, and then walk over to the beach on foot. shouldn’t be that far.” and it means they’ll avoid the masses of people accumulating near the parking spaces closer to the sand. “get something to eat when we get there-“, and then he interrupts himself because they’ve found the lot, and he eases the car into an unclaimed spot that’s made bigger by the car next to him not parking between the lines. when the motor’s off, he stretches in his seat, undoes his seatbelt. “okay. ready?”

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

“Are you planning to swim or no? If we drive around this road here, I found it earlier, there’s some spot that’s all rocky but like, nobody goes there.” Mun tips his phone forward to show Sungbin the map with a pinpoint locked in. “But if you want the sand then…” he trails off, turns to glance out the window in an effort to spot a car miraculously easing out of an open spot. 

“i know you gotta break in leather shoes, that’s not the point.” sungbin’s sister had complained a lot about that stuff, but mun can’t possibly know that. and it’s not worth arguing about something like this, and they’re getting awfully close to that: sungbin getting worked up over nothing, mun – probably rightfully – defending himself, the entire situation turning sour. so he takes a deep breath, taps his fingers against the steering wheel, tries to let his frustration escape with his breath. that shit rarely works, but you gotta give meditation guides respect where it is due, because at least it forces sungbin to pause. “sorry. sorry, this is stupid, i don’t know how we got here. i don’t wanna, like, make you do shit because i can’t keep my mouth shut.” he’s not even sure why he’d tried to talk mun into wearing shoes he doesn’t care about in the first place. sometimes, with sungbin, his kneejerk reactions are a mystery mostly to himself.

it takes him a moment spent in silence to even out after that, but it works. way quicker than it used to, too, when he was irritable for no reason much more often and had a harder time calming down afterwards. “you? getting sick of yourself? mun, that’s the first sign of you getting bad taste. be careful, it’s terminal.” he grins around those words, reaches over to tangle their fingers while he can.

“i hate to tell you this, but your hair is done. you can’t glow up if you’re already working at peak performance.” in comparison, sungbin needs a lot of work, but it’s not like his haircut is god-awful, and people tend to overlook that in favour of his smile. “if i’m a phone call away, that means i’m too far away, y’know. god, maybe i should teach you.” mun would probably be an attractive target if someone wanted to mug him, and his survival skills are close to zero. he’s onto something here.

“i dunno shit about makeup, seriously, i just know that some things look nice.” probably, if sungbin had to delve into the topic, he’d realise he knows more than he thinks now: that’s a side effect of spending his entire life living with women. he’d sat on the toilet seat watching sungmi apply foundation and lipstick countless times. “i can do a mean eyeliner, if you want. hyeju taught me. and i swear i’ve got a steady hand, i wouldn’t even stab you. but, like, i dunno. eyeshadow? you look good when you put some on.”

mun is not, in fact, at the top of sungbin’s ex food chain. that’s because he’s on top of the general people food chain in sungbin’s life, and he doesn’t count as an ex because their relationship exists in that in-between of friendship and romance. like a liminal space in sungbin’s life. “what, you? no, you gotta get in line with my first-ever girlfriend. she had the cutest fuckin’ bunny, you can’t possibly beat that.” he’s obviously joking, but that doesn’t mean his teenage crush on her doesn’t still occupy a special place in his heart. “you’ve absolutely dated people that bad. i’m, like, 90% certain i deserve the top spot of your ex food chain.”

he glances away from the road to check out the street mun’s pointing at. “i’m not sure about swimming, but if you want pics the beach is nicer. for walking, too. but maybe we can make that distance on foot.” it’s not really looking like there’s spots that are going to open up anytime soon, and sungbin will circle the block if he has to, but it’s not like he’d be unhappy if he doesn’t. “how far is that from here, can you check?”

[cassaps]

sunrise.

mvnshine​:

He sits up properly to click through the map app on Sungbin’s phone until it’s reading out the proper directions to them in a tinny robot voice, quiets himself so that Sungbin can hear where he should turn off.

“because that’s ridiculous! in shoes like that! like, they’re slides, they’re supposed to be comfortable.” mun’s got it right in assuming that sungbin would be exasperated (or, rather, act the part – he doesn’t actually roll his eyes for anything but dramatic effect around mun), but he’s certain he’s got a point. “but you’re denying the truth here, because you would’ve worn me down way before we got to that point. when’s the last time you got blisters around me, huh, mun?” probably not that long ago, because mun’s a lot less likely to complain with a little liquor in his system. but it’s about the principle of the thing, even when sungbin’s backing himself in a corner where the carrying is concerned. sometimes, like this, he gets stubborn in the most stupid ways. “i’ll give you a ride if you pay for dinner.”

sungbin lets the words hang in the air between them for a moment when he mulls it over, considers turning it into a longer discussion. but truth to be told, he’s not really qualified to speak on issues of self-worth, not when it’s something he still struggles with, or perfectionism. “i think you’re doing pretty well on that front, honestly,” and his voice softens when he says it. maybe the people close to mun, those who see his imperfections, don’t want to emulate him. sungbin certainly doesn’t, but then, he fairly solidly falls into the category of people who want to be with him. but those following his socials, commenting beneath his posts – sungbin wouldn’t be surprised if they thought that way. “i mean, sure, we can talk about me. but you’re so much more interesting.” he even means it; there’s not a lot that can be said about sungbin that doesn’t put them towards a boring avenue at some point. at least in mixed company.

“mhm, we can do cardio. or, i dunno, yoga.” sungbin kind of sucks at that, not because he lacks the body control or endurance but because he’s nowhere near flexible enough. “or, y’know, i could teach you how to throw a punch.” that’s the part he least expects mun to take him up on even when he’s gotten to a point where he wants to try working out again, but he might as well say it. it might be cute, watching him tire himself out like that. “you don’t need new clothes to glow up, you’ve done that. you’ve reached, like, level ten of glowing up. i dunno what to tell you, there’s few ways to go from here.” mun will probably take it as sungbin means it: in that mun is close enough to perfect for there to be little room up. “maybe more makeup. or that tattoo.”

there’s so much that could be said here. that it’s not a love language to be in a relationship that’s not reciprocated the way it should be, that mun should take better care to guard his heart. but he doesn’t want to drag the mood down like that, and some thoughts aren’t meant to be shared anyway. “i guess if you’re getting a nice top out of it that’s something.” it takes a moment for him to catch the double meaning behind that, and he laughs when he does. “i mean clothes. but hey, if the sex is good---” who is he to nitpick mun’s relationships? they’re both adults. and yet, sungbin still feels like he has enough of a claim on him to be allowed to be selfish. “well, you’re haunting my ass for sure. and those pictures are hot. but some of your exes deserve to be blocked, not to comment fucking- heart eyes under them.” he might have a personal vendetta. it’s nothing, really.

the directions, contrary to his suspicions, do have him turning off and towards a space that looks to be designated for parking. sungbin starts the thankless process of looking for an empty spot.