I found out that your work on the dorama the fiery priest is missing. Because of this drama, I met a very important person for me, with whom we discussed, among other things, your work. I remember it because it had a special comfort, it had life and soul. Then that man and I fell out, and I fell into a depressive episode (literally), but this job calmed me down. I really like it, so I'm asking if I can give you some kind of access to it? At least just drop it in a personal account? I understand that if you refuse, you have every right to do so. Thank you for this work, I hope you are doing well)
I'm sorry for the mistakes in speech, I'm writing through a translator
Hello! Thank you so much for your message! I am very sad to hear about your relationship, but very glad that my work helped you! It really means a lot to me!
I had made all my works on Archive of our own accessible to logged in users only. You needed to make an AO3 account to read them! BUT I have made them visible to ALL again! So you can now read them like before!
But I have also published all my fanfictions, including my Fiery Priest fanfiction, on this tumblr! You can easily read them both here:
🔗Fadermord
🔗Förhållande
I am very moved by your message and I wish you all the best! I really hope you are doing well, too.
Moonlight Chicken: Alan/Gaipa
Word Count: 14,105
#: Dating, Getting Together, Moving On, Grief/Mourning, discussion of canonical death of a minor character, Gaipa is not as smooth as Alan thinks he is, Gaipa POV
Alan turning up at the market looking positively edible on Friday was a move Gaipa hadn't seen coming. His shirt was at least two buttons less than entirely professional and his hair was ever so slightly ruffled. To add to the whole effect, the little smile on his face was there before Gaipa even looked up, so it was completely unguarded and all for Gaipa.
(all your wonder, from Gaipa's POV)
If you are hesitant to comment on AO3 because it's just fanfic and it probably doesn't matter to the writers, know that I got a one word comment ("Beautiful") on a fic nobody ever has bothered reading before and it made my night. Merry Christmas to me! Seriously, though, comments feel so good to writers! Please feed us! We're hungry!
Written for the Toku Poly Ficathon 2019, as a gift for Ao3 user Gatoraiden
Summary:
Somewhere deep down he wants to find out the truth and perhaps alleviate Emu's pain, just not worsen it. Like the intern, Hiiro too couldn't quite believe that the coroner would join forces with a man like Masamune, without at least a good reason. Then again, he was a bugster now, easily reprogrammed with the right knowledge and equipment, which Masamune definitely possessed.
Doubt had gnawed at Hiiro anyway, and so had the intern's sullen face, which he tried - but failed - so hard to ignore. Something within him wished he could say some uplifting words to Emu, but comforting people really wasn't his strong suit, and he might just make it worse for the other. So he said nothing and treated Emu as he always does.
If it were him, Hiiro thought, finding out what the coroner was truly up to would be the only true comfort. And god, he wanted to cheer up Emu so badly, as much as he didn't dare to admit it to himself.
He went to Genm Corp to find out about Masamune Dan's plans, is all.
Hiiro is crouching behind the couch in Masamune Dan's office, Kiriya's hand covering his mouth, stifling any noise Hiiro might've made in panic. He looks over at Kiriya, annoyed,his brows furrowing. Then he hears the door open and freezes.
He'd decided on his own to stake out at Genm Corp, behind the intern's back, because Emu would worry too much or something. He'd been a little clumsy, the stress getting to him, but by no means careless. As a disguise he had put on sunglasses and an uncharacteristically tacky outfit, all paired with loose, unstyled hair.
Following Masamune Dan around was his top priority, but sometimes his thoughts drifted off to the coroner, who had come back as a bugster and was now under Masamune Dan's command. He knew that the intern was terribly upset about this development, happiness conflicting with sadness. Hiiro himself pretended not to care all that much (though he clearly did).
Somewhere deep down he wants to find out the truth and perhaps alleviate Emu's pain, just not worsen it. Like the intern, Hiiro too couldn't quite believe that the coroner would join forces with a man like Masamune, without at least a good reason. Then again, he was a bugster now, easily reprogrammed with the right knowledge and equipment, which Masamune definitely possessed.
Doubt gnawed at Hiiro anyway, and so did the intern's sullen face, which he tried - but failed - so hard to ignore. Something within him wished he could say some uplifting words to Emu, but comforting people really wasn't his strong suit, and he might just make it worse for the other. So he said nothing and treated Emu as he always does.
If it were him, Hiiro thought, finding out what the coroner was truly up to would be the only true comfort. And god, he wanted to cheer up Emu so badly, as much as he didn't dare to admit it to himself.
He went to Genm Corp to find out about Masamune Dan's plans, is all.
So Hiiro had followed Masamune Dan to his office and waited for the man to leave, from a shadowed corner in the hallway. When Masamune did leave, six hours of waiting later, Hiiro slipped into the office as carefully as possible, while making sure no one would see him.
"You're pretty bad at sneaking around, huh? I saw you slip in here and decided to follow after, by the way." says Kiriya with a smirk after removing his hand from Hiiro's mouth again (but not without making sure that they were alone again). Hiiro looks offended and regards the coroner with a cold stare. He was wrong to worry, this man can't be changed no matter how much you try to reprogram him. Really, all that was different about him was his black outfit, and the disturbing lack of sunglasses.
Kiriya simply disregards Hiiro's stern look and puts a hand on his left shoulder. "As obvious as your whole mission has been to almost everyone, I'm almost glad you're here, hotshot. I've been keeping the fucking bad guy act up for too long, and I don't think it suits me."
Literally anyone from the CR could be here and Kiriya would be saying the same thing to them, Hiiro knows that, and yet he feels strangely happy.
Maybe some part of him had missed the coroner too. The thought sickens him a little.
Hiiro hasn't said anything yet, his brain overflowing with questions he could ask but his mouth feels sewn shut, like a defense mechanism, defending him from his own useless feelings. He takes a breath.
"The intern is worried sick about you. It's trouble, his performance has gone down considerably."
Kiriya's smile fades and he looks away. "I know." Hiiro frowns at those words. "I wish I could just come back to the CR, like normal. But I've got something I gotta do, and this is my best shot at it." Then he laughs a little. "You'd think he'd be able to see through my bad lies by now, but he's naïve like that…"
"It's his good point." Hiiro throws in unintentionally.
Kiriya nods.
They're still behind the couch, Hiiro realizes suddenly, though they've sat down now since crouching is uncomfortable. Then he catches himself wondering what Emu is doing at the moment, and wrinkles his nose.
"You like Emu too, don't you?" Kiriya says suddenly and Hiiro's heart jumps. He resists the urge to press a hand to his beating heart.
"…What?"
Kiriya just smirks, 'I knew it.' written all over his face.
"He just reels you in, with his unending kindness and dedication… I've seen you look at him, back at the CR. Before I died, I mean. It's really written all over your face, I think Emu's the only one oblivious to it."
Hiiro can feel his face burning up, and he scrunches his brows until his face muscles hurt. He can hear Kiriya laugh softly.
"It's really nothing to be ashamed about."
But Hiiro is ashamed, his feelings are shameful, and he wishes he could burn them. It hurts, because Emu will never be with him, because Emu only has Kiriya in his mind, and Hiiro doesn't have a place beside him.
He can feel tears welling up in his eyes and he's grateful for the giant ugly sunglasses he's wearing, because his face must be so distorted right now. He closes his eyes and prays for his tear ducts to dry out.
Kiriya notices Hiiro's shaking lips and shivering body with concern but says nothing. He just wraps his arms around the other, who weakly sinks into the embrace.
Hiiro hasn't cried in front of anyone since his elementary school days, not even in front of Saki. To cry was to show weakness, and Hiiro didn't want to be weak. His feelings of shame and disgust at himself don't help the matter much, tears endlessly roll down his face and land on Kiriya's black floral pattern shirt.
Kiriya had taken off Hiiro's tacky sunglasses so that the other could press his face into Kiriya's shoulder freely, which Hiiro did.
"I took it too far, I'm sorry." Kiriya says right next to Hiiro's ear, even though he hadn't done anything wrong. Hiiro shakes his head.
Kiriya registers what Hiiro is trying to tell him and replies with a soft 'okay'.
They stay like this for a while, and suddenly it's 11pm and they're still sitting and hugging behind the couch. Hiiro's tears had finally died down, so he wiggles himself free and moves away a little, his face turning red in embarrassment as his head clears up and the whole situation really registers with him. He wipes at his eyes, upset at himself for letting this happen.
He furrows his brows and clenches his mouth when he realizes that he got mucus and tears on the coroner's shirt. He pulls out his handkerchief and starts to wipe the place where his face had just been.
Kiriya snorts a little at that and Hiiro frowns at him angrily.
"It's fine." Kiriya says with another snort and takes hold of Hiiro's hand, gently taking the handkerchief away.
Then Kiriya leans closer and kisses Hiiro on the forehead and Hiiro flails slightly in confusion, looks at Kiriya, looks at the floor, looks at Kiriya, and then his fight or flight response kicks in.
He shoves Kiriya away and flees.
They don't see each other again until that fateful day on the beach, with Hiiro having to watch Emu getting kicked around by Kiriya, which makes the bottom of his stomach burn. But he doesn't intervene, because this is between them, and surely Kiriya is pulling his punches. Hiiro sees Kiriya pull Emu close and whisper something into his ear and suddenly Emu punches the other, like in a fit of rage, and Hiiro feels like it had all gone to shit.
Hiiro hasn't told Emu that Kiriya was just playing a role, even though Kiriya didn't even ask him to, he had just felt it in his gut when Hiiro had brought up Emu during their encounter at Genm corp.
"It's fine." says Emu as Poppy nurses his bruises carefully and with a highly worried expression on her face.
She huffs. "It's not fine! How dare he do that to you! I'm going to beat him up!!"
Emu smiles. "Please don't do that, Poppy…" He doesn't seem upset at all, even though he’s holding a cooling pack to his bruised eye. Hiiro is watching, close to berating the intern for his reckless actions, but he stops himself, because he hasn't seen Emu so happy in what feels like ages.
Poppy pouts visibly, in an exaggerated way, as usual. "Just one pipopapunch!" She flexes. Emu laughs.
“It’s not a joke!” She frowns. “Though you already packed a good one on him…”
Emu is still smiling. “I think we should focus on more pressing issues, Poppy… Many people need saving.” Poppy looks down in defeat and nods. With pouty lips, and after checking Emu again to see if she'd overlooked any injuries, she turns and disappears back into her game with a swift jump.
Hiiro, who has been too chicken to say anything (for once), stares, impressed by Emu’s calm demeanor.
Emu’s words, they hit him. That’s the Emu he knows, the Emu he….
He’s lost in thoughts when Emu suddenly says his name and the bubble pops. Like a wave of water putting out a wildfire, Emu’s voice calms him down. Sometimes it riles him up, sets the wildfire in his head, sometimes it’s the firefighter.
It’s not really Emu’s fault as much as it’s actually Hiiro’s fault, which it is through and through.
"Hiiro-san?" Emu says again and Hiiro turns around to face Emu, maybe a little too fast. He clears his throat.
"…What, intern." He presses out and it sounds rude, unintentionally so, but still. His face contorts into a grimace. Some cake would be nice right now, he's lagging sugar, he thinks. Maybe he should apologize.
The intern points to a bag on the table. Hiiro instantly recognizes the seal of a local bakery that serves delicious fruit and cream cakes.
"Kagami-san brought over your favorite."
Strawberry shortcake. Hiiro's eyes start to glisten.
Shuffling closer, Hiiro peeks into the bag with caution. Strawberry shortcake, two pieces, and apricot cream cake, two pieces.
A few minutes of unpacking and plating later and Hiiro is ready, scalpe-, no, butter knife in one hand, fork in the other.
Emu is looking at him.
"Do you have anything to say to me, intern?"
"Oh, uhh… I was just wondering… You're really going to use a knife for a cake this soft..?"
Hiiro snorts. "Ridiculous question. There is nothing I cannot cut."
He gets a defeated smile in response.
About to cut into the delicious cake, Hiiro suddenly halts. There is apricot cake in the bag as well, he suddenly recalls. And if his memory does not fail him, apricot is the intern's favorite.
He stares at the intern and then at the bag and then back at the intern again, who is looking quite confused at this point.
Hiiro sets down his cutlery and takes hold of the bag again.
"…It seems my father may have bought some for you as well."
He can see Emu's face lighten up considerably and it fills him with an embarrassing feeling of glee.
"Apricot. Your favorite."
Emu nods. "How did you know?" Hiiro is still staring at his smile.
"You may have mentioned it at some point…" No, Hiiro had asked Poppy about it, who'd told him happily.
Hiiro has to stop himself from watching Emu eat cake, or at least tries to. Emu is off in his own world, reading a gaming magazine as he enjoys the cake, absentmindedly licking some cream off his fork after he finishes the piece. Hiiro catches himself staring.
A tiny bit of whipped cream falls onto Emu's soft jawline and stays there, and the intern doesn't notice at all, deeply preoccupied with an article on Fortnite.
Hiiro is going to go insane staring at that bit of whipped cream, it needs to go, but Emu isn't noticing it, and Hiiro can't bring himself to say something.
So he does the next best thing, and only realizes the awkwardness of it when his thumb brushes against Emu's jaw and the other looks up to stare at him. Suddenly time slows down and the moment drags on for what feels like minutes, Hiiro frozen solid in place, cold sweat running down his back as he tries to contemplate what he should do next.
"Hiiro-san…? What are you doing?"
The intern's words bring Hiiro back to his senses and he moves his hand away from Emu's face at the speed of light, quickly cleaning his thumb with a handkerchief. "Cream." He says and hopes his face isn't melting, revealing his heavy discomfort and embarrassment. He's scrunching up his brows subconsciously.
"Oh, okay. Thanks." Says Emu and Hiiro can swear that he could see a tinge of red on the intern's cheeks.
The silence that follows is heavier than heavy cream and Hiiro just wants to leave so bad, but they're technically still on the job, and he also hasn't finished his second piece of strawberry shortcake.
So they keep eating, Hiiro trying to get lost in his thoughts once more and Emu continuing to read his gaming magazine, now skimming an article on a game Hiiro doesn't recognize. Emu seems distracted though, his eyes squinting. He occasionally shakes his head while pressing his eyes shut as if the sentences in front of him are collapsing, blending into one another. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, then puts the magazine away.
"Bad article?" Hiiro asks, even though he hates smalltalk.
Emu looks at him, seeming unsure if he heard correctly. "Uh… No, it was alright… Maybe. I’m just a little too distracted…”
“I see.” Says Hiiro. He has no idea how to continue the conversation. He doesn’t play video games or read magazines about anything but medicine or maybe cakes, and he doesn’t know where he should take the topic next. Sure, he is interested in what’s keeping Emu so distracted, but he doesn’t want to seem nosy or like he’s interested in the well-being of the intern.
“It feels like the letters start dancing across the page, making everything so much harder to read or understand! It happens a lot when I read for a while, and I start to lose focus…” Emu continues, unprompted, like he’d read Hiiro’s mind. “But it rarely happens with topics that interest me, so it’s a little frustrating.”
Hiiro knows exactly how that feels, at least he thinks he does.
“I get like that too sometimes.” He regrets those words already.
Emu looks up, surprised. Clearly he never could have expected such a thing from the rational, well put together man that is Hiiro Kagami. It makes him smile a little. “Really?”
Hiiro misinterprets that smile. “…Don’t laugh at me, intern.”
“No, no! I’m not laughing at you!!” Emu responds quickly. “It’s more like… I’m happy?”
Happy about what, Hiiro wants to ask, happy about Hiiro himself being pathetic?
“I’ve just… Never met anyone with similar problems…” Emu continues. “And, I mean, I’ll admit that it’s good to know you’re not a hundred percent perfect either.”
Oh. It dawns on Hiiro then, that this is okay. Maybe good , even.
But he lacks the ability to express these feelings, he wishes that he understood himself more.
So he doesn't say anything, just awkwardly takes another bite of his strawberry shortcake while hoping for Emu to continue speaking.
He does.
"I feel like you're being uncharacteristically nice to me today, Hiiro-san…" Emu props his head up with one hand. There's a smile on his face still. "Not that I don't welcome it, though! I'm just very used to your rough side."
That remark stings. Not that Emu is wrong, it just hurts a bit. Hiiro has been blunt all his life but real cynicism only hit him with Saki's death, like a dark wave. But he's not all ice, there's a creamy center inside, and Emu is getting through to it.
"I appreciate it." Emu adds quickly, hoping Hiiro isn't taking his words wrongly.
Hiiro nods, stern-faced and with burning cheeks.
Like being hopelessly in love with one person isn't bad enough for Hiiro, he now realizes that his chest gets tight and his stomach weird when he thinks about the coroner. Kiriya being back in the CR is making things even harder for Hiiro, now he has to see both him and Emu every goddamn day. Clearly, this is a crisis.
Emu and Kiriya ask Hiiro to go get ice cream with them and he says yes, like a fool. He doesn't even like ice cream. He only likes Emu and Kiriya.
Luckily, he gets to eat cake. And luckily, he gets to watch the other two enjoy their ice cream. They talk about trivial things like the weather or how good the ice cream is. Hiiro explains how rain happens because he can't stay surface level with any topic without getting antsy. They both listen to him.
They share kisses that afternoon, all three of them, and Hiiro feels like he's in a dream. They both have known all along, Hiiro realizes.
The feeling in his chest? Joy.
Once they've parted ways, Hiiro lets himself smile. He feels stupid but also just as happy and alive.
The sound of his inner nagging voice is but a whisper right now.
Rating: General Audiences
Category: M/M
Fandom: Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Ships: Lukas/Python
Characters: Lukas, Python
Tags: /
Words: 1,315
No additional warnings.
From 2018. short fic with mostly dialogue! there are some inconsistencies im not entirely happy with but i dont feel like fixing them since its so old
Summary:
Lukas realizes that maybe he had been striding the false path to love all this time. It was time for change.
They stop next to an old willow tree, as they'd agreed on just a few moments ago. Darkness had engulfed the sky, only letting through the soft shine of stars. In the distance there was chattering, the sound of carafe meeting carafe cheerfully and the flickering glow of torches. The fest Lukas and Python just left.
"So, Lukas…" Python breaks the silence suddenly. "What's so important?"
The question lingers in the air a little. Lukas closes his eyes, the gears in his brain are overworking themselves. He is at a loss. He'd asked the other to come with him, to talk to him, but now he could not put his thoughts into words.
Talking about whatever went on in his heart was new ground for him after all. It was not something to be taken lightly.
Lukas takes a deep breath, his eyes open again, fixated on some spot on Python's face - just not his eyes.
"I don't think I will ever come around."
Python looks at him, confusion written all over his face. It takes him a moment to understand. "Oh." He says. "Well, don't let it bother you. You'll find a girl eventually, we can't all be married at 25 or so."
"No." Lukas shakes his head. "I don't think that will happen."
"Eh? You ought to be more specific there, Lukas. I'm no mage, I can't read minds."
"…I don't think women are for me, really." Lukas feels his knees give in a little. So unlike him.
"So, like…" Python frowns, deep in thought. "You mean… Men are more, uhm, your objects of desire..?" Though his words almost feel like a jape, neither of them laugh.
"I don't know, I mean - I haven't given it much thought." He had given it thought, to some degree. Ever since he met Python in fact. "If that were the case. If I felt attraction towards men…-"
Python placed his right hand on one of Lukas' shoulders, a smile adorning his tired face.
"Not like you'd be the only one."
"I know that, Python. If it were any other way, I wouldn't be having this conversation with you, I don't think."
"Ouch! And here I was giving my best trying to hide it…"
"As Forsyth might put it, your best is only as little effort as possible." Lukas says with a grin and they both laugh, clearing the subtle tension in the air.
Lukas can relax again now, at least a little. He still isn't used to how freeing it can be to talk to someone about whatever is bothering him.
Python lets out a big yawn.
"How long were you holding that one in." Lukas asks, his everlasting smile back on.
Python laughs tiredly. "Feels like an eternity."
In the distance, the sun is slowly lifting its head above the horizon, illuminating both of them.
Lukas takes in the view a little, then looks over to the others and sighs. "The sun is already rising and they are still at it… I leave them for a bit and with me does their common sense, apparently."
"Oh come on, you think they would've listened to you if you'd told them to stop? Drunk as they are?"
"This may come as a surprise but I'm told I can appear quite threatening." Another sigh. "Oh, it was a mistake of me to allow mere children to drink. I should have intervened…"
"Ack, Lukas, don't blame yourself for their decisions as if you are their father. They were an unruly bunch to begin with."
"Hm…"
"Also I am wracking my brain trying to see how you could ever appear threatening to anyone. Cold, sure, but you're tiny-"
"I don't see what my size has to do with this."
"I'm just saying." Python grins. "To me you are as threatening as a sheep in sheep's clothing." He adds, and pats Lukas head lightly.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment…?" Lukas raises a brow, unsure what to make of this.
"Sure."
"How. And why a sheep?"
"Huh? Because of that saying, you know, a wolf in sheep's clothing!"
"A 'sheep in sheep's clothing' is quite nonsensical." Lukas feels that it implies that he wears his heart on his sleeve, instead of keeping it locked up. It doesn't sit right.
"Agh." Python narrows his eyes. The light of the rising sun is dancing on his blue hair and fair skin, Lukas can make out subtle freckles on Python's cheeks- "Does it matter? Sheep are cute."
Lukas averts his eyes. "You're right. Sheep are cute." He wants to ask what Python thinks of him, but doubt gnaws at him. He fears rejection, he realizes suddenly.
Python turns to Lukas. "Have you ever touched a sheep's wool? As it was still on the sheep, I mean."
"I don't think I have."
"It's not soft as you might expect." Python says and absentmindedly runs his hand through Lukas' hair. "It feels rough, and it stinks… Unlike your hair." He is playing with one of Lukas' curls now.
Lukas stands there, frozen. He can feel heat rushing to his face and he fears he was about to turn as red as his hair. He was ready to bury himself.
"Hey…" Python notices Lukas' reddening face immediately. His hand brushes against Lukas' right cheek. "…You're burning up, Lukas. Caught a sickness? That's no good."
Lukas curses the sun for rising.
Anyway, either Python was as dense as a brick wall or he was only pretending to be - it didn't matter. This was killing Lukas.
"You look like a tomato, you know." Python pinches Lukas' cheek. "Ripe and ready for plucking." A snicker.
"You're challenging my patience, Python." Lukas struggles to keep his composure.
Python apologetically takes a step back. "My bad, my bad."
"…And I'm perfectly fine, just feeling a bit cold." Lukas manages to smile but it must seem awfully fake. If Python noticed, he didn’t mention it.
"Let's go back then." Python points to where the others had started singing songs now, unbothered by the world.
"Not yet." Lukas faces the horizon again, the sun is now further up and stronger sunlight falls onto both of them. The warmth of that light mixed with the icy breeze from the hills which makes the leaves on the willow tree rustle in calm waves is a sensation Lukas can't quite describe. He shivers a bit and looks over to Python who, Lukas realizes with a slight stinging sensation in his chest, is clearly staring at him.
He wishes he had the ability to make some snide remark but instead he averts his eyes again quickly. This, an emotion he couldn't put into words, made him feel like an unknowing teen, and unbelievably foolish.
Without any warning, Python throws his right arm around Lukas. He's warm. Lukas almost falls from shock. He stares at Python, confused.
"I can't let you freeze to death here just because the sunrise is so beautiful, you know. I think we'd all be pretty lost without you."
Lukas smiles. "Maybe I should opt for long sleeved armor next time."
"…Let's hope there won't be a next time."
"Of course. I was speaking hypothetically."
Lukas allows himself to lean into Python, lost in thought. "You're a bit like a wolf." He says then.
The other laughs. "Not a python?"
"Of course not." Lukas frowns. "As majestic as they may be, pythons and you don't have much in common."
Python hums. “Why a wolf then?”
Lukas thinks about this for a moment. “I haven’t given that much thought. I only realized it just now.”
“I kind of understand.”
“…You do?”
“It’s because of my handsome good looks.”
Lukas closes his eyes. “…Sure.”
Python laughs and pulls the other closer.
If he could only fall in love with men, he would be alone til death, is what Lukas had thought.
Rating: General Audiences
Category: M/M
Fandom: Kamen Ride Faiz
Language: English
Ships: Inui Takumi/Kiba Yuuji
Characters: Kiba Yuuji, Inui Takumi
Tags: Fix-It Fic, Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix
Words: 575
No additional warnings.
Written in 2018 to cope. published on AO3 in 2021
Summary:
Kiba wakes up in a hospital bed.
[Spoilers for the very last arc of Faiz.]
Kiba opens his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed, Inui clasping his hand, warm tears dripping onto his fingers. He's never seen Inui cry before, at least not like this. And for whom? The man who had betrayed him.
Inui always had more faith in Kiba than the man himself did, or anyone else, really. But he never really realized this, not until now.
Raising his other hand to gently cup Inui's face, wiping tears away with his thumb, he tries thinking back on what just happened.
"Kiba?"
He must have passed out. His abdomen is throbbing, his legs feel numb, like they're not even there. Inui must have hit him there, Kiba realizes.
It was a small price to pay in exchange for getting to live. He'd manage even without functioning legs.
"Kiba!"
Inui must be consumed by guilt. Kiba wants to lessen this, somehow. He feels that he deserves way worse than this for what he had done. He wants to reject Inui, push him away, because he doesn't deserve him. Not his guilt and not his-
"Kiba! Just... Say something already!"
Kiba snaps back into the present.
"Inui..." His voice sounds awfully hoarse.
"Kiba..." Inui tries to wipe his tears with his sleeve but it doesn't work as well as he anticipated and he gets more snot on it than tears. "Oh fuck..."
Kiba smiles. For a bit he feels like nothing even happened. Like they are back at the batting cages, just talking and enjoying the other's company.
Back then, Inui Takumi had a calming effect on Kiba. With him he felt understood better than by anyone else.
But Inui clung to an idea of Kiba when the man himself had already changed.
Kiba knows now that he'd been wrong, at least partially. It's no easy choice - humans or orphnoch? But to fight for the humans, who had betrayed their trust times and times again... Kiba was starting to understand what Murakami had been saying all this time. Maybe the humans were eternally meant to be his enemy.
Yet Inui chose them.
Inui chose them over him.
Kiba didn't really know why he'd even cared so much. It seemed to be much less about gaining a strong ally and far more about... Having Inui by his side.
He looks over to Inui, who is now frantically wiping his snot-covered sleeve with a tissue.
"Inui..." Kiba says and Inui stops the snot wiping and looks at him, with that soft expression of his, and it feels a bit strange. Kiba is now too awake to ignore the stinging in his chest, or his throbbing headache. "...What happened?"
Absent-mindedly crumpling the tissue in his hand, Inui takes a moment to think.
He looks down then, his expression visibly darkening.
"...Your legs..."
"Inui..." He takes the other man's hand, the empty one, in his, and squeezes it firmly. "It's okay. It's not your fault... You made the right choice"
Inui's eyes glaze over again.
"It could be way worse. I could be dead right now!" Kiba says in a joking manner.
The other man doesn't laugh. He hums briefly, as if to signal that he has thought the same thing. But it seems to do little to console him.
Kiba absentmindedly massages the back of Inui's hand with his thumb. "I feel no regret... Or malice towards you." It's true. "And I don't want you to feel guilty like this."
Or anything.
Rating: General Audiences
Category: M/M
Fandom: My Dream The Series
Language: English
Ships: Tanai/Guide
Characters: Guide, Tanai
Tags: Post-Canon
Words: 744
No additional warnings.
A short fic about one of my favorite BL ships that never was...
Summary:
Guide takes a breath and gets into Tanai's car, expecting rejection.
"...Will you be my boyfriend, P'Nai?"
Guide's question lingers in the clammy air of Tanai's car as Tanai stares at him, then looks to the side, then back at Guide, and to the side again. The answer should come to him more easily than this, Tanai thinks, his face growing warmer by the second. But it doesn't. His feelings have been muddled for a while now, while his affection for Runway hasn't decreased necessarily, he'd found himself daydreaming about Guide more than he wishes to let on. Tanai feels bad about it, when he's next to Runway, the boy he has felt so protective of for so long. Caring for someone else feels forbidden.
Sure, at first he blamed it on the kiss they shared that day on the beach - the jolt of electricity that ran through his chest that time still tingling on within him. Tanai thought it would pass, that he just felt odd because it was his first kiss with another man, that he had kissed back out of curiosity, just to give it a try.
By the second kiss Tanai wasn't quite so sure anymore. He'd initiated that one, intended more as a consolation than anything else, but that jolt of electricity was stronger this time, going all the way to his stomach and prickling in his belly. His heart rate must've at least doubled in speed that time, hammering away in his chest as he pressed his lips onto Guide's.
Kissing Runway hadn't felt quite like that. Tanai thought it would, genuinely expected it to. But the one-sidedness of it left him empty, Runway's rejection stinging in his chest. He regrets kissing him like that, without asking first. But he can't make himself bring it up again.
So, Tanai has to accept what he'd already known subconsciously - that he does like Guide, that being liked back feels good, that Runway is never going to love him, not like he does Runway, not like Guide does him.
He looks back at Guide again - the tense look in Guide's eyes filling Tanai with a sort of admiration for him, who had asked him out, in spite of everything - or perhaps because of it.
Guide wants to leave, internally, his legs shaking just a little bit as he sits in Tanai's too expensive car and waits for the inevitable rejection. At least he will have tried, you know, and he's proud of that. Proud of being sure of his feelings, proud of daring to ask Tanai out after all. At first he had decided to give up on Tanai - just to be overwhelmed with a gnawing feeling of jealousy when Runway mentioned Tanai's desire to finally hear Runway's answer.
Guide knows that Runway would reject Tanai, but he couldn't help but feel like he had to act anyway, he didn't want them to have that conversation.
He doesn't want to see Tanai sad, he had realized, entirely selfishly.
Guide looks up again and sees Tanai smile his wonderfully soft smile, and Guide's heart skips a beat, just like that. And he can't help but smile too - he doesn't even know why Tanai is making this expression in the first place - having chosen to reject the notion of a positive outcome from the start, and…
His train of thought abruptly halts when Tanai places his hand on his cheek, softly tracing his high cheekbones with his thumb. The corners of Guide's mouth droop downwards, helplessly, his eyes shining like those of a sad puppy. His heart is hammering against his ribs. And then Tanai moves closer, holding eye contact, looking for a possible sign of rejection. Guide gives none, of course, instead closing his eyes and leaving his mouth slightly ajar in nervous anticipation. He tries desperately to ignore the sweat he could feel rolling down his forehead.
Then their lips meet, and it’s familiar, yet exciting and new, and Guide almost forgets to breathe for a bit as he kisses Tanai back, desperately, feverishly. He puts a hand onto Tanai’s back, attempting to pull him closer. The fact that they are in a car really isn’t helping. It feels cramped, and Tanai is too far away. Guide wants to press his body against Tanai’s, wants to plant kisses on his neck and chest, wants to…
He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath. He can feel tears in his eyes and he laughs somewhat awkwardly as he wipes them away.
Rating: General Audiences
Category: F/F
Fandom: Ultraman Geed
Language: English
Ships: Toba Laiha/Aizaki Moa
Characters: Toba Laiha, Aizaki Moa, Asakura Riku, Zena
Tags: Compulsory Heterosexuality, Fluff, Minor Injuries
Words: 3,198
No additional warnings.
This fic was part of the Tokusatsu Femslash Ficathon 2019, gifted to ao3 user Ozuttly!
Summary:
Moa realizes that her feelings for Laiha aren't those of jealousy after the two of them find themselves in quite the unusual circumstances.
Moa loves Riku, right? He's a guy, as well as one of the most important people in her life, so clearly it has to be love. That's what her friends in high school had told her anyway, after asking her about the boy she was sometimes seen with. They all had boyfriends, so it is only natural for Moa to like boys as well, isn't it?
But Riku doesn't make Moa's chest feel tight and doesn't make her stomach weird, like an ant's nest. Laiha does.
She had interpreted this feeling as jealousy at first. Laiha is always around Riku, and all that. And Moa is in love with him, so she has to hate Laiha for taking him away from her.
The turning point comes when, one day, Moa finds herself daydreaming about Laiha's muscular body, her beautiful eyes, her soft-looking lips, her sharp tongue… The realization makes Moa feel hot and cold all over, her face flushed in embarrassment.
She has never really fantasized about someone this way, with the exception of perhaps famous athletes, which is probably normal - She stops her train of thought there, her phone ringing tirelessly as she rushes to pick it up.
It’s work.
Being part of the Alien Investigation Bureau, it's her job to discreetly investigate extra-terrestrial crime in the city, not that it's rampant - humans commit several times as many crimes, of course - so Moa finds her job to be not nearly as taxing as what she imagines police work to be like. The general concern with alien crime on earth, is that humans will take these few incidents to represent the entirety of every extra-terrestrial society combined, when in reality quite the opposite is the case.
So, she is on her way to one of those missions when she comes across Laiha out of nowhere and of course Moa has to say hello, because that’s common courtesy, but she finds herself stuttering helplessly instead.
Laiha looks confused, one brow raised, her beautiful eyes squinting just a little bit. She is rightfully confused, Moa is the type to chatter endlessly, like a waterfall. This is clearly so unlike her.
So Moa gets out her phone and points to it, her hands shaking.
“I gotta go! My superior is calling!” She shouts and bolts off, surprisingly fast for someone in a suit skirt, Laiha notes.
Laiha stifles a snicker. “Her phone wasn’t even ringing.”
Well, that was quite embarrassing, Moa thinks, her heart-rate at an all-time high. She’s leaning against a wall, breathing heavily as she tries to calm herself down.
It’s all fine, she tells herself, and realizes that her main concern is with Laiha’s impression of her. Which is odd, isn’t it? Quite odd. “What if she thinks I’m weird…” Moa says to the wall she’s propped up against. The wall doesn't answer.
But then again, why does it even matter if Laiha thinks she’s weird? Not that Moa is never concerned about how other people think of her, but never this much. And she’s never failed so spectacularly at simply greeting an acquaintance. Moa is quite sociable overall, she rarely has trouble speaking to anyone, so why-
“Aizaki.”
Moa freezes. Mr. Zena’s voice.
She slowly turns her head, immediately reminded of her original objective. She has a job to do. Oh god. She’s late. And where even is this place. She must’ve gotten lost. Oh no.
“Mr. Zena.” She says, clearly a bit intimidated by his sudden appearance, but not at all surprised that he managed to find her.
“You’re just on time.” He says, stone-faced as usual. He is so hard to read.
“No, no, I’m like ten minutes late! I’m so sorry Mr. Zena! I’m really so sorry!” She bows rapidly.
“I know, I was being sarcastic.” He is so hard to read.
“Fortunately, we still have more than enough time.”
Moa can feel herself relax a little. “The first good news of the day…” She murmurs.
Zena points to their AIB car. “Let’s go.”
They arrive at a worn out and abandoned industrial building, weeds covering the ground and even some of the walls. All the windows are smashed, as is usual for these kinds of places. Behind the building, Moa can see the sun setting slowly, tinting everything orange. She is used to situations like this, in theory, but it’s still a little intimidating each time.
She runs the facts through her head to prepare. According to intel from an informant, a group of rogue Dadas has their hideout here. They’ve committed various minor offenses from littering to petty theft, with their worst crime reportedly being the abduction of a pet cat, the disappearance of which was reported to the police a few days ago.
Overall they don’t really compare to other crime groups Moa has encountered in her work so far. In fact, she’s willing to say they’re more like a group of teenage delinquents. Though they would probably have her head for that. Dadas tend to be very particular and methodical about their random acts of criminal activity, as far as she knows. Intentional chaos, as Mr. Zena had once called it.
So, everything goes fine at first. They check their surroundings, find the Dadas, make sure they’re unarmed, that all of the members are accounted for and wait for the right moment to strike. Everything should go smoothly.
Moa and Zena are getting their guns ready, taking slow steps towards where the Dadas are sitting and chatting, and-
And… And suddenly there’s a large log in Moa’s way. A log that she notices far too late. So, crying out in surprise, she falls face-forward onto a pile of rocks. She can hear loud voices and the shuffling of feet, then her vision goes dark.
She wakes up again on the backseats of the car, her head covered in bandages. She groans, rubbing her forehead.
“Guh… My head…” It feels like her brain is trying to escape her skull, forcefully pressing against the bone. It takes her a second to remember what had happened. “Oh no.” She sits up rapidly, much to her head’s dismay. She hisses and closes her eyes, the pain shooting through her temples. To top it all off, she’s also feeling extremely dizzy.
“Aizaki?” Zena’s voice comes from the driver’s seat. Moa just kind of grunts in response, feeling too sluggish to speak.
“I’m driving you to the hospital.”
Moa nods, even though Zena can’t see her. “W-what about…The…”
“They got away.”
Moa grits her teeth. “I keep-… I keep…” She can’t help but tear up. “You could’ve… Left me…” She says without thinking.
“You’re more important.”
Moa can’t follow those words up with anything. Zena doesn’t lie. Zena is more responsible than her.
Riku visits her in the hospital with a bag of sweets. With Laiha apparently deciding to tag along as well, and Moa has never felt more embarrassed before.
“I had no idea that being an insurance salesperson was such a dangerous profession…” Says Riku, concern in his voice.
“Riku… It’s just a minor concussion… And I just stumbled over a log of wood. Also - I’m getting discharged tomorrow…”
She dares not to meet Laiha’s eyes, fearing the awkwardness of it.
“Still - thank you for visiting me…” She holds up the bag of sweets. “I do love sweets."
Riku smiles, gesturing to the side. “Laiha helped pick them out!”
Moa could swear that she could see Laiha elbowing Riku in the side from the corner of her eye.
She nods and turns to Laiha, awkwardly, and smiles. “Thank you, Laiha.”
Laiha looks a bit surprised. “…Sure.”
Moa melts just a little bit.
And she realizes that Riku's presence does not make her heart jump, or her palms sweaty. Laiha's does.
After getting released from the hospital again, Moa is fired up. Sure, she’s supposed to rest for a few more days, as strenuous activity could have negative consequences, but this isn’t the time to be worrying about minor things. The Dada delinquents are still on the loose, and it’s Moa’s fault.
She’s not allowed to go back to work, at least not officially, so…
“That’s a horrible idea. Genuinely.” Laiha’s words bring tears to Moa’s eyes.
“Maybe you hit your head harder than they thought?” She adds and takes another sip from her mango lassi.
“Laihaaa…” Moa cries. “You’re my only hope!! I need to catch them… It’s all my fault that they got away!”
“Listen, it’s not my job to take care of things like this. It’s-”
“…Mine…” Moa sighs and slumps back into her chair, her iced coffee untouched. She’s pouting.
Taking another sip from her mango lassi, Laiha musters Moa with an almost judgemental look.
“Why are you asking me anyway? I thought you don’t like me.”
Moa sits up straight again. “That’s right! Wait I mean, I don’t not like you… Anyway you’re the strongest person I know. With the exception of Zena, but I obviously can’t ask him!”
Laiha raises both brows. “What about Riku.”
“First of all, he doesn’t know about AIB… Second of all…” Moa averts her eyes.
Laiha sighs and nods. “True. He can’t even lift 50 kilos.”
“…and you can!?” Moa’s eyes go wide and she finds herself staring at Laiha’s biceps. Again.
“Obviously.” Laiha’s muscles flex a little bit, perhaps subconsciously.
Moa turns red, and finally takes a sip of her iced coffee.
They meet up at night at a big tree just outside of town. Through some prior investigating, Moa has found out about the Dada delinquents’ new hiding place. An abandoned house in the woods, a few yards from here.
Moa almost cries when Laiha actually turns up at the specified time, originally unsure if the other was really willing to go through with this or not. She takes Laiha’s hands into hers and thanks her, from the bottom of her heart.
Laiha sighs, though she’s wearing a smile on her face regardless. “We haven’t even started yet.”
“Right!” Moa lets go of Laiha’s hands and excitedly grabs a piece of paper from her pocket. On it was a drawing of sorts, a few lines of text and a bunch of arrows.
“Basically, the plan is as follows…”
-
“…And then you want me to call the AIB? I thought you’re one of them.”
Moa shakes her head. “I mean, I am, but… I am off-duty…” She points to her bandaged forehead. “In fact, what I am doing is pretty illegal. If they were to find out… -”
“You’d be out of a job.” Laiha sighs and rubs her temples. “Then, isn’t this a really bad idea?”
“Yes, but… But… But…” Moa is flailing her arms around, hoping it’ll get her point across. “It’s because of me! The other day a parrot was reported missing - I know it has to have been their work, and it’s all because I went and got myself injured!” The wound stings.
Laiha clicks her tongue. “Okay - I get it already.” She grabs a flashlight from her bag, “Let’s go.”
Moa beams, overjoyed, and takes out her own flashlight from her cargo pants. She shuffles closer to Laiha and grabs hold of her arm, only to get a slightly sour look in response.
"What! I don't want either of us to get lost… Who knows what's lurking in the woods at night! Boars, bears, tanuki… Kaiju?!"
"…Kaiju?"
“…You never know.”
"Alright, alright. Whatever. Let's go already."
Moa nods, smiling widely.
They have to take an untrodden path, as anything else may expose them to the Dadas prematurely. So every step they take is calculated, lest they step on dry wood and make too loud a noise. Or worse, stumble over something. Never again , Moa tells herself.
At some point, they'd switched over to simply holding hands, for practical reasons of course.
Moa is trying her hardest not to jump a little whenever a small animal rushes past them, or a crow screams from atop a tree. Her grip around Laiha's hand briefly tightens each time though.
Twenty minutes have passed by the time they finally see the abandoned house, soft light shining from its windows. They can hear loud chattering coming from the inside, it sounded almost like a fight, but when it comes to Dada aliens it could really be anything.
Moa clenches her fist in determination.
“Don’t worry, Asahi-chan and Tsuru-chan, we’re coming to save you.” She whispers, her fist shaking a little.
“What?” Laiha raises a brow in confusion.
“Oh, that’s what the parrot and the cat are called… You know, the ones these bastards abducted? Didn’t I tell you…?”
Laiha sighs. “I remember it distantly…”
Moa unintentionally raises her voice a little bit. “I can’t believe you forg-” Her mouth is covered by Laiha’s hand instantly. “ Moa .” She whispers sharply, agitation in her voice, and nervously looks over to the house.
Moa’s eyes widen and she nods, shrinking into herself.
“Sorry…” Her voice is almost inaudible. “We should get this over with.”
Nothing goes wrong this time. Laiha and Moa overwhelm the group easily, knocking some of them out, simply disarming others and tying them all up in a neat circle. It’s over in a second, their resistance being lacking at best. Only one of them gives them some trouble, knocking down Moa and delivering a considerable blow to Laiha’s head. Considerable, but not enough to knock her out by any means. She returns the favor tenfold, making him lose consciousness immediately.
Now, with all the Dada aliens tied up, they have a chance to really look around. It’s a mess, to put it nicely, trash and contraband littered on the floor. Everything, from paper plates to TVs, was to be found here. Most of it taken apart or at least thoroughly inspected. And - one room over - the kidnapped pets, alive and well.
The cat - Tsuru - is cowering in a corner, presumably startled by the loud noises. A few cat toys are strewn across the room.
Asahi the parrot is calmly sitting in it’s cage, it’s colorful feathers fluffed up and it’s eyes half-lidded. It must have been asleep.
Moa sighs in relief, the mess in the other room having briefly made her imagine the worst. She's unbelievably glad they're both fine.
"We're lucky the cat didn't eat that bird, you know." Laiha says, leaning against a wall.
Moa nods and bends down to pick up one of the toys. She walks over to the cat - not too close, but close enough - and wiggles the toy around.
"Hey Tsuru-chan… Check out this cute mouse. You wanna come get it? You wanna come catch it?"
Tsuru just stares, her eyes darting back and forth between the moving toy and Moa.
Laiha watches the display fondly, her head throbbing a little bit from the earlier beating. It will surely swell, but it's not like this is the first time this has happened to her. She can deal.
Things could've easily turned out far worse, they clearly got lucky.
Tsuru is now chasing after the toy, instinct and playfulness winning over her initial suspicions and fear. Then she catches it in mid-air and lets herself fall onto her back, toy in mouth.
This makes both Moa and Laiha chuckle. They watch as Tsuru bites and claws and kicks at the toy in the most adorable manner.
Then Moa remembers what they came here for and she abruptly gets up, startling Tsuru a bit.
She walks over to Laiha and pulls a bit of a sad face. "We have to go."
Laiha nods. "I'll call in at the AIB."
After finishing the anonymous call to the AIB while standing outside the house, Laiha looks over at Moa. "You ready?" She asks, holding out her hand for the other to take. Moa nods happily and accepts the offer.
-
"'…after an anonymous call to the headquarters of the AIB, a few agents were sent over to check out the the place reported to be housing criminals. Inside, they came across the group of Dada aliens responsible for a few cases of theft, trespassing, loitering and pet kidnapping. They were all tied together and sitting in the center of a large collection of contraband. Some of them were found to be unconscious, those who weren't refused to speak, and still do. In a back room they found, alive and well, a cat as well as a parrot. Both confirmed to be pets that were reported as missing this month.'" Moa reads from her smartphone.
"Why does your superior write like a news reporter?"
Moa laughs. "I think it's all the reference he has."
Laiha and Moa are at that café again, Laiha getting her usual mango lassi, and Moa her favorite iced coffee.
Moa continues. "'We believe this to be an act of unnecessary vigilante justice committed by humans…'"
Laiha rolls her eyes.
"'but, as the group of criminals decided against pressing charges, we probably won't pursue the matter any further.' And then he tells me not to overexert myself, that I'm still healing… I'm fine! My head only hurts four times a day now!"
"He's right, you know. All that critical thinking isn't good if you're recovering from a concussion."
Moa frowns. "Anyway, do you think he knows?"
"Yeah." Laiha says with a slight smile. "Definitely."
Then Moa invites Laiha to her house, and to Moa's surprise she actually says yes.
They mostly sit around and watch samurai movies while eating spaghetti and drinking mango lassi they made together. It's nice and relaxed and… Familial.
But Moa still feels her heart jump when their hands brush against each other on accident, when Laiha just so much as looks at Moa, or when Moa finds herself staring, or when Laiha nods off on Moa's shoulder while they’re sitting on the couch…
Laiha is so beautiful. Her eyelashes, her soft skin, her silky hair… When Laiha smiles at Moa, the sun rises at night.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Moa is head over heels.
Laiha wakes up and tiredly rubs her eyes, her head resting on something comfortable. It takes her a moment to realize the position she's in. Her heartbeat quickens, and she realizes that she doesn’t want to move away.
So instead she moves closer to Moa, who looks at her now, her face clearly flushed.
A smile on her lips, Laiha takes hold of Moa's hand, interlacing their fingers. Both of their hands are sweaty and it almost feels a little gross, but most of all it feels right . Maybe cheesy romcoms are right about some things in life.
Laiha allows herself to drift back to sleep again, her head still comfortably resting on Moa's shoulder.
Moa is happy like this, finally confident in her feelings for Laiha. Riku is her little brother, she knows this now, and that's all she feels for him. Laiha though, Laiha is different. Laiha is the one she wants to hold hands with, the one she wants to share kisses with, the one that makes her chest sting and her stomach fuzzy.
She gives Laiha's hand a light squeeze, and soon she falls asleep as well. Comfortable, happy, satisfied.
Rating: Mature Audiences
Category: M/M
Fandom: The Fiery Priest
Ships: Hwang Cheol Bum/Kim Hoon Suk
Characters: Hwang Cheol Bum, Kim Hoon Suk, Jang Ryong
Tags: IKEA, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Homophobia, Boss/Employee Relationship, Sweat, First Kiss
Words: 4,334
No additional warnings.
förhållande means relationship in swedish. nothing special haha
Chapter 1 of Part 2 of Cheolsuk at IKEA
Part 1
Summary:
Their relationship is undefined, vaporous and confusing. Cheol Bum can't deal with it any longer.
Chapter 1: Lack of Definition
They're not dating. They've not kissed. They've not had sex. They've not fucked. Instead they each sit with the tension, trying to pretend it's never been there in the first place.
Cheol Bum was the least person who would admit to any kind of… Feelings, of any nature. The thought makes him grimace, seethe at his own propensity for having these feelings in the first place.
Luckily he's busy. Busy enacting the inane plans of the people above him. He follows orders, is good at it, even though it hurts his pride.
Well, he used to be. Father Kim has managed to make sure that Cheol Bum would suddenly have a lot of free time on his hands to sit with his feelings.
He watches him sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking except for Hoon Suk himself. He traces the outline of his face with his eyes, until Hoon Suk meets them with his and he forces himself to look away.
He's scared of intimacy. They sleep on the same mattress a lot, they spend time together that Hoon Suk does not have to spend with his stupid boss and yet does. Cheol Bum is scared of the intimacy that goes beyond that. The kind that forces him to confront a new reality.
There are things Hoon Suk knows about Cheol Bum that nobody else knows. They never talk about them. Instead leaving them to rot in an old cardboard box in a moist basement. That's intimacy in its own way, and Cheol Bum is scared of this too.
Maybe Cheol Bum is waiting, deep down. Waiting for Hoon Suk to make the first move. He's scared of it, but he wants it. He wants Hoon Suk to say it before he has to, in a moment of intense desperation he hopes never comes.
Hoon Suk is a man of few words, and he rarely starts conversations himself. So when he randomly brings up a potential need for an actual bed frame, Cheol Bum almost jumps, startled.
"Jesus Christ!" He slowly sets down the cup of coffee he had almost spilled and rubs his temples. "You wanna go to that fucking giant shipping container again, huh? The blue one?"
The man responds with a nod, his face serious as ever. The clock on Cheol Bum’s office wall hits 10:00.
A sigh. Cheol Bum frowns but says nothing. Instead he scoots over a little and musters Hoon Suk for a bit. Then he nods and sighs again.
"Whatever. Let's go."
The drive is uneventful. Marked only by the occasional passing of a few elderly people and some street cats Hoon Suk decides to stop for every time. As well as the sheer time it takes to get to this place.
The building dominates the landscape it inhabits, dwarfs any nearby structures as if it were a competition. It's daunting to Cheol Bum every time, but he's not going to chicken out this time, or the next time, or the one after that.
"I don't know why you in particular like coming here. It's always fucking packed to the brim with people, and it's a weekday."
"It feels anonymous."
Hwang Cheol Bum likes things to be personalized for him especially, he likes when the owner of a small but prestigious shop turns his attention only to him. Kim Hoon Suk is not like that, he realizes. Never was. He's Cheol Bum's shadow. And he prefers it that way.
He gets that now. So he doesn't linger on the conversation and gestures for Hoon Suk to lead the way.
He's drenched in sweat by the time they reach the beds section and he feels like his bones are creaking with every step he takes. Like some kind of old man. He's strong, sure, but his stamina isn't up to par. Not like Hoon Suk's steady, but quick, pace. That of a man on a mission.
Reaching a simple enough looking bed with a black bed frame, as Hoon Suk would prefer it, Cheol Bum sits down. He's seen other customers do it, so he follows suit. Then he pats the mattress next to him, asking a hesitant Hoon Suk to sit down, too exhausted to speak. Hoon Suk does, a bit too late, a little bit further away than Cheol Bum had hoped.
It kind of dawns on him then, as he feels stares on his back. Two men on a bed, huh. He hadn't considered it. Hadn't thought that far. So he shifts to get up again, it wasn't his bed frame they were shopping for after all, when Hoon Suk grabs his arm, holding him in place.
He's never done this. And he lets go just as quickly as he had reached for him in the first place.
It's not just for me, Hoon Suk wants to say. Let them stare. But he doesn't. Doesn't even look at Cheol Bum.
"You're exhausted, Sir. Please don’t get up."
The other man doesn't protest for once, instead opting to just muster Hoon Suk, as he often does. Trying to figure out Hoon Suk's train of thought.
Then he looks away again, to the little sign that tells customers the name, number, dimensions and price of the bed, trying to ignore further staring from the people around them.
It was big enough for the mattress they - no - Hoon Suk had at home. Which was good, but -
He could hear them whispering things. Nothing he hasn't heard before, nothing he hasn't had to endure from random people trying to ruin his evening. He doesn't care, at this point. He's broken a few noses over it, perhaps dished out a concussion or two. But there wasn't anything he could do now, not in this giant department store. Not with all eyes on them. Not when he still has a bit of a reputation to lose.
"I don't think this frame is right for you." Cheol Bum says then, getting up slowly, hoping to put an end to the situation, his legs aching. Hoon Suk looks up at him.
"It's got a headboard. Can't imagine that in your apartment." Cheol Bum continues, stretching his back. And he glares at the people staring at them. Wishes he could make them piss their pants with a look.
Hoon Suk only nods and gets up as well.
The whispers only grow louder and more incessant, so Cheol Bum’s brows crease with irritation and he clicks his tongue loudly.
“My god, the people here. Always have time to judge others, huh?” He exclaims loudly, visibly annoyed. “Can’t even fucking shop for furniture in peace without having people burn holes into your back with their damn eyes. Ahh… Seriously so goddamn annoying.” His voice seems to reverberate through the giant room.
A sudden silence. Then movement, people walking away. The sound of feet shuffling awkwardly is music to his ears. Sometimes calling out insolence is all it takes. He cracks his knuckles, satisfied.
“Yes, sir.” Hoon Suk says then, instinctively, almost stumbling over his words.
Cheol bum sighs, annoyed by the formality. “Enough with the ‘Sir’, Hoon Suk. What does this look like to you, a job-outing?” He gives Hoon Suk a light shove. Well, as light as possible. Hoon Suk still stumbles a few steps before regaining his composure.
“Yes, Mr. Hwang.”
The response makes Cheol Bum groan, as if ‘Mr. Hwang’ is any better. But he doesn’t protest. Old habits die hard, or whatever.
“Let’s get back to what we were doing, eh? I don’t have all day.” Except he does. It may be a weekday, but there was nothing to do in the office that he couldn't push onto Jang Ryong, especially now that illegal business is off the table. And there was no one left to invite him to a humiliation outing. No one left to laugh at him and berate him as he plays the lackey for them.
Watching Hoon Suk walk in between the tightly spaced bed displays makes him appreciate having this free time a bit more. He can see a light bounce in Hoon Suk’s step, though his face does not show the excitement this seems to imply. It’s sort of… Cute. Maybe he owes Father Kim, or something.
He spots another bed frame then. This one essentially being a black cuboid with a mattress lodged inside of it. It’s perfect.
“Hoon Suk! Over here. This one’s about as boring as your apartment, isn’t it? Perfect, huh?” He’s a little proud of himself.
The other man makes his way over to Cheol Bum, and there is a faint look of, possibly, happiness present on his face. Cheol Bum can’t help but grin.
He eyes the little sign. “‘BRIMNES’. Whatever that means…”
“It’s a city in Norway, I believe.” Hoon Suk notes, while getting out a piece of paper and a pen to write down the number of the bed frame.
“How do you even know that? Is that what you do in your free time? Researching European countries, or something?”
Hoon Suk looks at him in confusion, then realization. “No, Sir - I mean, Mr. Hwang. It’s - well.” He looks away, embarrassment now setting in. “It’s the furniture.”
“It’s… The furniture? You’re saying, you know all the fucking… IDEA furniture, or whatever it was called? And like, everything about it?” Cheol Bum scratches his head. It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it. He’s sort of impressed, though a bit taken aback.
“Well…” Hoon Suk starts, when Cheol Bum interrupts him suddenly, realization dawning on him.
“Hey! That means you had it out for this one all along, doesn’t it? Why even bother with the other one!”
Hoon Suk takes a quick look around, clearly a bit uncomfortable. “It was mostly because you seemed quite exhausted… So I wanted to give you a chance to rest. That’s all.”
Cheol Bum halts. Of course. Hoon Suk had always been perceptive like that. He’d even told him to sit a bit longer, had held onto his arm, all because he wanted him to rest a little.
“Right. Whatever.” He sighs and turns his attention to the bed frame, arms crossed now.
“And you’re convinced that you want this one? What if the piece of shit breaks because we -” He clears his throat. “…Because you’re too goddamn heavy, or something?” He inspects the frame closer, knocking on the wood, to check for the type. Coated particle board, he thinks. Again.
“Do they ever use real wood in here, or is particle board all they have? Well, I guess it’s cheap for a reason.” He says, eyeing the price tag. “At least that damn table has been holding up pretty well…”
“My previous bed did break.” Hoon Suk says, unfazed. “But this one is far more sturdy.”
“How the fuck did you break your bed?” A question Cheol Bum might have wanted to think over before blurting it out immediately.
“Termites.”
Yeah. That’s the answer Cheol Bum had hoped for. Anything else he would’ve liked to not even consider. Even though he did. He thought about it until he received the sobering reply.
Termites.
Hoon Suk did not fuck someone so hard that his bed broke.
Probably.
“They were the reason I moved.”
Cheol Bum just nods, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at himself. Really not the time to be thinking about Hoon Suk having sex. He forces his thoughts back onto the matter at hand.
“…Give it a try then.” He says. “Just to be sure. Maybe jump on it or some shit.” Knowing that Hoon Suk probably doesn’t want to.
Used to taking orders from the other man, though this wasn’t really one, Hoon Suk complies and sits down. A bit hesitant, he bounces a bit, listening to the sound of the bed and feeling all around quite awkward about it, though he would never admit to that. Especially not after Hwang Cheol Bum had asked him to do something.
Cheol Bum, in turn, clicks his tongue audibly, annoyed at Hoon Suk’s wordless compliance. “I can tell you’re not having fun. You don’t know how to say no to me, do you? I’m not your fucking boss right now, alright? Stop acting like it.”
But what was he to Hoon Suk, outside of being his boss, anyway? They’re not really friends, are they? And they’re not really anything else either. Family, or lovers, or something else. Even if they sleep on the same mattress together. A lot. A habit born out of necessity. When Cheol Bum had started to loathe the house he owns. When Hoon Suk refused to let him sleep on the office couch by himself any longer.
Hoon Suk had stopped bouncing on the bed, now looking up at Cheol Bum, taken aback.
“Then… What?”
Yeah. What?
Then what are they right now?
A minute that feels like hours passes and no answer forms.
“…I don’t know.” Cheol Bum says, finally, his voice uncharacteristically soft, followed by a frustrated groan. “Let’s leave. Hope you’ve got that number jotted down”
“Yes.” He leaves out the ‘Mr. Hwang’ this time.
After going through the hassle of actually procuring the bed frame pieces, they could finally settle down in the car. It’s now past 15:00 o’clock, they had been in there for three hours somehow.
Getting into the front passenger seat, ignoring Hoon Suk’s futile attempt to open one of the backdoors for him, Cheol Bum loosens his tie and sighs. He wants to change into another shirt so bad. Wants to shower and go straight to bed. He hates the feeling of pit stains. Hates being sticky like this.
Hoon Suk, who had begrudgingly sat down in the driver’s seat, looks completely unfazed by the day, at least physically.
“Do you ever even sweat?” Cheol Bum asks, offhandedly. “You’re always wearing that coat. Even in the summer. You’ll die of heatstroke one day.”
Hoon Suk stops his efforts to turn the car on and glances at the other man, as if he had said something truly baffling.
“Of course. Of course I sweat, Mr. Hwang. I’m not a machine. And I don't wear the coat at home.”
“Prove it to me. You're never sweaty at home, so I don't know why the hell I should believe you."
“Huh?”
“Take it off. The coat, I mean.”
“…No.”
Oh. A rejection.
That’s what he’d asked for. What he’d wanted. Even if it was a benign request like this. They’ll never be on equal footing if Hoon Suk does everything he says, no questions asked.
“…Sorry, Mr. Hwang. I’ll take it off.” Hoon Suk says then, suddenly, taking Cheol Bum's silence as anger, and moves to take off his coat. Cheol Bum starts, then quickly grabs one of Hoon Suk’s hands.
“Stop.” He grimaces, frustrated. “…Don’t do it, if you don’t want to. What’s the fucking point of that. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself before me. Don’t do things you don’t want to do. Even if it’s me asking you.”
“…Okay.” Hoon Suk says, quietly, looking at the hand holding onto his. Cheol Bum notices and, not without feeling a sudden sting in his chest, withdraws said hand quickly.
“You will have to drive me home though.” He fastens his seatbelt.
“I will.” A pause. “…I want to.”
Hoon Suk is turning the key in his apartment’s front door when Cheol Bum’s phone suddenly rings, startling both of them. Hoon Suk always has it with him when they’re out together, so he fishes it out of one of his inner coat pockets and hands it over.
Cheol Bum growls in annoyance upon seeing Jang Ryong’s name.
“…Yes?” He greets Jang Ryong coldly. “Yeah, you can call it for the day. Tell everyone to go home. …No, I'm not coming back to the office today.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No. Hoon Suk is with me… No, he’s not coming back today either. Just close the fucking office. I’m hanging up.” And he hangs up, ignoring Jang Ryong’s distant sounding protest.
“Something up..?” Hoon Suk asks, having opened the door already, waiting for the other to come in. He had already brought the huge IKEA cardboard box inside with him, setting it down on the floor, ready to bring his favorite knife to it.
Walking in, Cheol Bum shrugs. “Idiot just doesn’t like closing up shop by himself. He’s so dramatic. I’d give him a few smacks over the head if he was here right now.”
“You always do.” Hoon Suk brings out his favorite knife and slowly begins cutting open the box where it had been sealed with tape.
“Right. Maybe he’s slowly losing brain cells. If he had any to begin with.” Cheol Bum laughs at his own joke. Hoon Suk doesn’t laugh. He never does. He does smile, though. “A smile? That funny, huh?”
"Sure."
After changing clothes, Cheol Bum had decided to get some rest. Enjoying, as much as possible, the strange discomfort of the floor mattress one last time. The cold of the white linen bed covers lulling him to sleep.
Until Hoon Suk has to start hammering nails and connecting bolts into place.
He gets maybe about twenty minutes of sleep in before this part of the building process commences and he is awoken, very unceremoniously. He groans, reflexively, but decides not to complain. Breaking Hoon Suk out of the zone he's in now will only bring trouble in the long term, in case he struggles to get back into it again. Then they might not end up sleeping on a real bed tonight, after all. No. He rolls onto his stomach and watches Hoon Suk work.
He had taken off the coat, and the suit jacket, and the black shirt. He's only wearing a black undershirt, and he's sweating. He didn't sweat last time, Cheol Bum thinks. Or maybe he did, and Cheol Bum hadn't actually given it any thought.
He is pretty buff under all those layers, isn't he. He's not toned, he's buff in a way that's practical. And he has more fat than Cheol Bum himself, for example. He's buff in the way that allows him to put together and carry furniture, and other heavy things. Or to pack a good punch.
Hoon Suk meets his eyes for a second and Cheol Bum's thoughts scramble as if he's actively beating them with a fork and then pouring them into a frying pan. What is he? A teenager?
Maybe. A 39 year old teenager. Former thug, current businessman, and teenager with a crush. Crush…
He rolls onto his back again, running his hand through his hair. Ignoring the stinging in his chest again. The quickened heartbeat. Just pretending it's not there. Like that would ever work. He sits up.
"I'm going to take a shower."
Hoon Suk doesn't reply.
The bed frame is done by the time Cheol Bum leaves the bathroom, towel draped across his shoulders, clad in his third set of clothes today, a white shirt and black sweatpants. They belong to Hoon Suk, but they'd sort of become his. From his first stay on.
"It looks good." He says, eyeing the completed project in awe.
"Thank you, Mr. Hwang." Hoon Suk replies, looking over at the floor mattress. "I might need your help with this part though."
So they hoist the mattress onto its new home together, and it fits like the two were made for each other. Which they were. It is an IKEA mattress after all.
The bed, finally complete, just needs to be moved to its designated place now. Headboard, or where the headboard would be, if the frame had one, against the wall under one of the windows. Leaving enough space on both sides of the bed to perhaps one day add nightstands as well.
The mattress had always been in the center of the room, so the layout change feels refreshing to Cheol Bum. A full bed in the middle of the room is too crass even for Hoon Suk.
As if moving a mattress and carrying a bed for a few meters had been the most exhausting thing in the world, Cheol Bum plops down on the bed with a grunt, lies on his back, wiggles his toes. Why does it feel so different anyway, having a bed frame?
Hoon Suk on the other hand had already started picking up the pillows and duvets again, which they'd cast aside to make moving the mattress more efficient.
Then he walks back to the bed and unceremoniously throws the duvets and pillows onto it, covering Cheol Bum almost completely.
"Sorry, Sir." Hoon Suk says then, sternly. This must be his idea of a joke.
Cheol Bum digs himself out from under the covers.
“Very funny.” He says, face stern.
No response comes from the other man, who seems engrossed in looking at his handiwork. Or maybe just the bed frame itself. Clearly he’s big on minimalism.
Cheol Bum catches himself staring again. Hoon Suk is still in his suit pants, black socks and black undershirt, stained with sweat.
He was going to bring it up again, the sweat. But decides against it, remembering how much Hoon Suk did not want to take off his coat. Though he had no idea how this is different. Like it wasn’t far more intimate, seeing his muscles bulge when he scratches his neck. They’ve been practically living together for multiple months now, but he had never seen Hoon Suk’s arms, he realizes. Hoon Suk prefers to wear long-sleeved shirts.
He looks away again quickly, trying to fix his ruffled hair, wiping at his neck and forehead, where sweat had started pooling again. Always with the sweat. It’s annoying like that.
So he brings it up anyway, sitting up slowly.
"You do sweat. I guess you weren't lying."
Hoon Suk is caught off guard and looks him in the eyes, trying to recall what Cheol Bum is even talking about. Then he remembers. And sighs, which he never does.
"Everyone sweats."
"You're not everyone." What the fuck does he mean by that.
Hoon Suk shifts from one leg onto the other, hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with the statement. Not sure what it even really means.
Silence. Cheol Bum has no follow-up. No answer to the unspoken question lingering in the air.
He gets up from the bed then, the stone floor cold under his bare feet. Hoon Suk stays where he is, hands still in his pockets. Confused. Expectant. Waiting.
He gets close enough to be able to see singular strands of hair sticking to Hoon Suk's forehead, close enough to smell the sharp scent of sweat mixed with the scent of soap. He feels delirious, almost like he's drunk. Pulse too quick. Face overheating. Sweat running.
He cups the back of Hoon Suk's neck with his hand. It's slick. With sweat.
Hoon Suk stays silent, waiting for Cheol Bum to make the next move.
Cheol Bum, who wants to take Hoon Suk's silent acceptance of this gesture as a sign to continue, suddenly, acutely aware of their positions, reconsiders. He's mellowed out, hasn't he.
"Hoon Suk." He starts, almost whispering, voice hoarse. "I am going to kiss you. If you don't want me to, you have to tell me now."
He can feel Hoon Suk's pulse quicken then, as if the situation had only really just dawned on him. His response takes a moment as well, and it's not quite what Cheol Bum had expected.
Hoon Suk grabs the back of his head and kisses him first.
Ah.
Cheol Bum's eyes widen and his body stiffens, suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of catharsis. Then he kisses back, clumsily, as though he'd never done this before in his life. Maybe not like this, at least. It tastes salty.
Frustratingly to him, Hoon Suk is also somehow way better at this than anything about him had ever let on.
And Cheol Bum has to break the kiss to catch his breath, leaving his hand lodged on Hoon Suk's neck. He's getting old. Emotions are getting to him now more than they ever did - more than he'd ever let them before. The dam keeping them sealed off has started to crack in places, in part because it had never been particularly well-constructed in the first place.
They've reached that kind of intimacy now that Cheol Bum had been scared of all this time. The kind that will force him to face a new reality.
"…Mr. Hwang." Hoon Suk starts, his gaze feeling more serious than ever, but his face slightly flushed. "Are you alright?"
He's not really alright, is he?
"What the hell will it take for you to stop calling me that?"
He digs his hand into Hoon Suk's hair and gently pulls on it, yanking the man's head back a little bit.
"Mr. Hwa-" Hoon Suk stops himself, feeling Cheol Bum's fingers tightening in his hair again.. "I… It doesn't feel appropriate -"
Cheol Bum groans, annoyance palpable. But he lets go of Hoon Suk's hair again, and slowly slides his hand down the man's back.
"You just fucking kissed me and yet you're still somehow worried about being appropriate. Are you an idiot?" He can feel Hoon Suk tense up beneath his hand. Can feel the heat of his body radiating against his palm.
"Forget formalities. I'm fucking sick of them. From you, that is." He digs his nails into Hoon Suk's shoulder blade as if to underline his point. Hoon Suk lets out a sharp breath.
Then he pivots, slowly removing himself from under Cheol Bum's touch. His pulse at an all time high, his whole body flushing, warmth spreading.
"I need to shower." He says, quietly, his lisp stronger than usual. And then he leaves.
Ah. Cheol Bum thinks, watching the man power walk towards the bathroom. I went too far.
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Category: M/M
Fandom: The Fiery Priest
Ships: Hwang Cheol Bum/Kim Hoon Suk
Characters: Hwang Cheol Bum, Kim Hoon Suk, Lee Young Joon
Tags: IKEA, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Homophobia, Boss/Employee Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death
Words: 2,016
Major Character Death (in reference to the Canonical Character Death)
Part 1 of Cheolsuk at IKEA
Part 2
Summary:
Hoon Suk lives in an almost entirely empty studio apartment and Cheol Bum can't deal with it any longer.
He’s in control of his emotions, he has to be, has to be cold and calculating. Until he bursts, sometimes, and takes it out on someone by punching them repeatedly, maybe until they pass out, or worse.
Father Lee’s death made him unable to punch anyone or anything. Instead he sits in Hoon Suk’s empty studio apartment and stares at the wall. He can’t cry anymore. He just sits on a chair and stares at the empty white wall while Hoon Suk makes ramyeon for him in the “kitchen”, a single camping stove in the middle of the room, occasionally shooting him worried glances, but not saying anything.
Hoon Suk only talks when it’s necessary.
When he brings the ramyeon over, Cheol Bum is still staring at the wall, as if he's watching paint dry, except there is no paint to watch dry, or much of anything. Cheol Bum likes ramyeon, but he can’t eat right now.
“You eat it.” He says and Hoon Suk complies wordlessly as he always does.
Cheol Bum is watching him eat now. Watching the noodles slide into Hoon Suk’s mouth.
He’s glad to not be alone right now. He easily could be, he could’ve stayed in his villa where Father Lee died, could’ve sat there and cried endlessly. All alone. Most days he’s at Hoon Suk’s place anyway. Now that number will increase, maybe to every day. Maybe he will never leave. He won’t even mind the single large mattress on the floor Hoon Suk calls his bed anymore. He doesn’t want to go back to where it happened, at least for now. Unless he has to. And he will have to.
But not now. And Hoon Suk seems to know this, without even being told.
"Aren't you sick of it?" Cheol Bum asks then, out of nowhere, his voice sounding strained from all the crying.
Hoon Suk halts in the middle of slurping up a noodle. "Sick of what, Mr. Hwang."
"Sick of cleaning up my shit. Sick of me staying at your fucking apartment almost every night as if i have nowhere to go. Sick of making ramyeon for me…"
"No." The reply comes quick, and a bit more forceful than what Cheol Bum is used to. "I want to take care of you."
Cheol Bum clicks his tongue but doesn't say anything.
The self-deprecation doesn't suit his image, so he stows it inside.
"Have you ever considered decorating at least a little bit." He says, abruptly changing the topic. "Or maybe getting any goddamn furniture at all? I used to think you left it this fucking empty because you'd rarely be home anyway but I'm starting to think you're just fucked up." Cheol Bum musters the sparse apartment. Aside from the two camping chairs they are sitting on, a mattress and dishes on the floor and of course the camping stove, the studio apartment is empty. Bare white walls, bare wooden floor. There's a fully functioning bathroom, but that's really the bare minimum and it's not like Hoon Suk got any say in its existence.
"I don't really need anything else." Hoon Suk replies and sets aside the empty bowl to be washed in the bathroom sink later. On the floor.
Cheol Bum scrunches up his nose. "Listen, I will buy you a table, and maybe a couch, these camping chairs will fuck up my back eventually." He lets out an exasperated groan. "You can't keep living like this." And yet he comes back every time. It feels like the only place he can relax, in spite of everything.
Hoon Suk says nothing, just smiles ever so slightly while watching the all-too common outbreak Cheol Bum is having, glad that it's distracting him. Cheol Bum says these things every few days, and then forgets about them the next morning. He has suggested practically every piece of furniture known to man, except for a second bed.
"We're getting you a fucking table tomorrow."
Cheol Bum wants to sleep so badly, but he can't. It's not the mattress, or the sound of Hoon Suk's calm breathing next to him, or the rain hammering against the windows. It's the fact that when he closes his eyes, he sees Father Lee crashing onto the glass table. So he lies awake, staring at the white ceiling where a single exposed light bulb hangs, his eyes burning.
"Mr. Hwang."
Hoon Suk's voice snaps him out of his trance. He turns to the side to look at Hoon Suk, tears slowly rolling down his face and pooling on the pillow. He can barely make out the other in the darkness, with not even the moonlight to help. But he can sense Hoon Suk's concern nonetheless.
Then he feels the other's hands on his face, gently wiping at his eyes. Cheol Bum lets it happen.
He's not used to this sort of intimacy, the kind that's gentle and comforting. It reminds him of another time, back when he was still young, crying over something meaningless in Father Lee's arms. He lets himself be that little boy again, as his eyes slowly make out Hoon Suk's expressionless, yet concerned, face in the dark.
He feels pathetic, but he knows Hoon Suk won't talk about it to anyone, not even him. He won't ask probing questions, won't demean or insult him behind his back. That's what makes him Cheol Bum's number two.
The next morning, Hwang Cheol Bum hadn't forgotten about his promise. So they'd gone to IKEA to finally get Hoon Suk a table. Cheol Bum had originally pictured something less… Streamlined, like, something more expensive and… Prettier to look at. But Hoon Suk had insisted on this at least, if not buying him anything at all was out of the question.
The drive had been long, they had to leave Gudam for this, because of course their little town couldn't accommodate one of these giant metal boxes. Hoon Suk had told Cheol Bum that this IKEA is one of the largest ones in the whole world, seeming strangely excited about it. And he wasn't lying. Not that Cheol Bum had been to any IKEA before. The large container stretching across the horizon before him makes him frown. He prefers small local businesses with an eye for detail.
Inside they are greeted by the hustle and bustle of hundreds, if not thousands, of customers, only contributing to Cheol Bum's dismay. He clicks his tongue, hands in his pockets. "What the fuck is this, a festival?"
"No, Mr. Hwang." Hoon Suk replies courtly, just for Cheol Bum to shoot him a look for not understanding that it was a rhetorical question.
"Might as well be." Cheol Bum eyes the crowd, unable to spot any displayed furniture yet, just commonplace things one might find at every department store. He clicks his tongue again. "So, where are the tables?"
Hoon Suk perks up a little bit and points over to a stair lift leading to the second floor.
Walking through the departments proved to be exceptionally grueling to Cheol Bum. The many people everywhere, the tasteless furniture on display… He's getting too old for this. Hoon Suk seems unfazed, too focused on the many display pieces around them to care about the mass of humans they have to wade through. They haven't even reached the dining tables yet, which is what they came here for in the first place, instead they're standing in a fake bedroom which feels about as lived in as Cheol Bum's villa.
"Ahh, seriously- That's why this place is so huge? For shit like this?" Cheol Bum gestures towards the other model bedrooms, his brows furrowed.
A nod from Hoon Suk.
"Do you want your apartment to look like this, hm?" Asks Cheol Bum then, looking over at Hoon Suk.
"No, Mr. Hwang."
Cheol Bum clicks his tongue. "Let's go then."
Another nod.
It takes them at least twenty minutes to reach the dining furniture.
Tables upon tables, chairs upon chairs, all arranged neatly like for a TV-show dining room - a bit too perfect, all in all. It's when they look more closely at one table that Cheol Bum notices the price tag and shakes his head - as if a good table could be so cheap. But he doesn't mention it to Hoon Suk and just mindlessly knocks on the wood of the table instead. It sounds hollow, somehow. Coated particleboard, he figures, which explains the cost of less than 50000 won. Cheol Bum would not be found dead buying something so cheap for himself, but ultimately he decides to leave it up to Hoon Suk. It's not his apartment after all.
It makes sense that Hoon Suk would end up going for the cheapest, most minimalist option. The simple black color will accent his apartment nicely, nothingness to nothingness.
"While we're at it, we should get some chairs as well." Cheol Bum says then and raises his hand to silence Hoon Suk, who had already opened his mouth to object. "Those camping chairs are ruining my damn back."
Hoon Suk can only nod.
They have to write down the product numbers on a sheet of paper, as if walking through this giant box isn't already taxing enough. Unfortunately their journey doesn't end here, instead Cheol Bum has to suffer through another thirty minutes of pointless walking, fighting through mountains of products just to end up in a huge warehouse. Countless rows of metal shelves that reach to the tall ceiling tower before them, every single one filled with large cardboard boxes from head to toe. The hall only seems to grow in size as Cheol Bum scales the area. At first he thinks they're not supposed to be here, it seems like an employee area. But he notices other customers amidst the shelves and Hoon Suk seems unbothered as well.
Cheol Bum frowns. "Hoon Suk." He says, still eyeing the vast hall. "Where is the staff." It's a question he already knows the answer to, deep down.
Hoon Suk looks at him apologetically and then away again quickly as he always does. "There is no staff."
There is no staff who will do everything for them so they have to get the right boxes themselves and carry them to the checkout counter and ultimately to Cheol Bum's car. Hoon Suk had tried to insist that he should carry everything himself but Cheol Bum rejected the idea immediately. The thought of using a cart didn't occur to them.
What truly fascinates Hoon Suk about IKEA becomes clear as soon as the boxes are unpacked and he is sat on the floor, studying the assembly instructions for his new table. Though his face is basically the same as always, there's a little bounce in his movements as he fits leg to tabletop. He had of course insisted on doing this by himself, not that Cheol Bum would've wanted it any other way. The day has been exhausting enough for him already, but Hoon Suk's joy has made it all worth it. Although Cheol Bum would never say so out loud.
Memories of Father Lee's head crashing onto the glass table come flooding back when the light is off and Hoon Suk's breathing has slowed down beside him. Cheol Bum can't breathe properly then, his whole body straining as agony washes over him. He hyperventilates, then holds his breath, then hyperventilates again, tears uncontrollably streaming down his face as the moment plays in his head over and over and over and - A noise. Suddenly Hoon Suk's panicked hands pull Cheol Bum into a sitting position and give him a small bag to breathe into.
Pathetic, is what Cheol Bum is to himself right now. A pathetic little boy in need of babying from a man 10 years younger than him.
He's calmed down now, the now lit ceiling light and Hoon Suk's hand on his back giving him quiet comfort.
Pathetic.
He needs to internalize these feelings, needs to stop. Thinking. About. That. Night.
As pathetic as he feels, he's glad to not be alone right now.
