*COUGH* Highschool AU where preppy Bjoo tries listening to shitty goth music to impress Hansol. ;D ✌✌
The used record store was dingy and dark. From outside, it looked abandoned. The windows were plastered over with dog eared posters, the door made of heavy, painted over wood bearing years of nicks and bangs, crazy scrawlings in sharpie, carvings of initials and dates. Byungjoo stood outside for a few solid minutes wondering if the address Jiho had given him was current before finally trying the knob. He poked his head inside. The light was dim, the air freckled with dust. It smelled like incense and age. When he entered fully, the clerk behind the counter greeted him with a quirked eyebrow and a scowl. Byungjoo was immediately, startlingly aware of how sharply he stood out. With perfectly styled hair and name brand everything, from the pale pink collared shirt to the white Bermuda shorts, and the scuff free loafers that cradled his feet. “Can I… Help you?” The clerk asked, flipping his fringe back to expose a barbell impaling his eyebrow. “Oh, uh, that’s okay! I’m just… Browsing.” Byungjoo smiled sheepishly before going to look through the racks of CDs. The band names were all cryptic and macabre, the cover art dark and abstract. Nothing looked particularly appealing to him, so he grabbed some artists that he’d heard of in passing. Bauhaus, The Cure, Siouxie & The Banshees. He grabbed a few more at random and checked out.
———- ———- ———- ———-
Byungjoo slid a CD into his player and turned up the volume. He sat down on his bed and furrowed his brows as the music started. It was dark and crooning. The notes sounded painful, full of tragedy and sadness. He pursed his lips and cocked his head. Hansol liked this? Byungjoo was happy, always, and the deep misery in the music didn’t click well with his disposition. He scratched his head and heard a knock at his bedroom door. Without waiting for a response, Hansol let himself in. As usual. He paused at the familiar notes and cracked a smile. “What’s this?” Byungjoo looked up and smiled shyly. Hansol looked like he fell off one of the albums, all drenched in black, leather and spikes. His skin pale, eyes rimmed dark and smudged. “Uh… The Cure? I wanted to…” He shrugged, unsure how to explain, “I don’t know, since you like this stuff, I thought if I liked it too… But,” he rubbed the back of his neck and grinned, “it’s kind of awful.” Hansol laughed loudly and invited himself onto Byungjoo’s bed, bouncing slightly. “Yeah, kind of. But it’s tragically beautiful, right?” Byungjoo wrinkled his nose. “Mostly just tragic.” The comment set off Hansol’s laugh again. “My best friend is too cute!” He reached over, slid his hand into Byungjoo’s palm. “I guess… It’s easier to enjoy when you feel the same longing.” “Longing?” “Hm.” Hansol shifted closer, let his head fall onto Byungjoo’s shoulder, and closed his eyes to fall into the music. “For someone you can’t have.” Byungjoo spoke softly, “Hansollie, you can have anyone.” His thumb traced small circles into Hansol’s hand as he nervously chewed at his lip. He gulped and used his free hand to tilt Hansol’s chin up. There was a moment of tension, eyes locked on one another’s in purgatory, before Byungjoo leaned in and gave a soft, awkward kiss. Their noses bumped, lips not lined up quite right, and Hansol’s lips didn’t respond. Byunjoo was bright red as he pulled away. “S-sorry.” He mumbled. Hansol sat frozen, his eyes still closed, lips parted slightly. “Joo…” He slowly blinked his eyes open. “Do it again.”
