Last Night-A Gtop ficlet
This is part of a fic I started a couple days ago but after today felt like this little bit should be shared. I have been called Satan. I accept this role.
Here, die with me.
The night had breached the cusp, that line that crossed from reality to the embodiment of eternity. Yesterday was a hazy memory and tomorrow seemed a passing flight of fancy. Night felt like it had been stretching on forever and would continue to do so, outside of time and responsibility and enlistment. Here there were only half-dark shadows, soft yellow light, the muted sound of music emerging from somewhere and mumbled conversation.
Day was only a mirage, he thought, but then, Jiyong had long passed tipsy and was swimming in drunk.
He blinked and realized that Seunghyun had been talking for a little while. And they were alone. That’s right, Youngbae had disappeared to call Hyorin, dutiful new husband. Daesung and Seungri, though?
He blinked again and the memory of them stumbling off to sleep surfaced.
So that left just him and Seunghyun.
“Everyone says its terrible, and it is,” Seunghyun said, words finally making sense. Jiyong contemplated reaching for another drink but decided he wanted to not be a zombie when he woke whenever day returned from wherever it had gone off to.
“The food wasn’t too bad at my camp, though.” Seunghyun was talking about basic training. “Not great but-”
“You know I’ve heard all this before, right?” Jiyong asked. Everyone and their dog had an opinion on military service. One learned these things as their enlistment arrived, he’d discovered. Women had opinions and stories of their husbands, or brothers, or boyfriends, or second cousins twice removed who served two decades ago. And men -
“I’m just telling you so you are prepared. It’s scary,” Seunghyun said, “especially going in older.”
Jiyong pulled a face and curled into a ball on the couch, letting the room sway gently around Seunghyun’s words. It was no different than what he’d been told before, by Dongwook, by Jae-sang, even by CEO Yang. For most of them it seemed just a bonding thing, the shared struggle of Korean men.
Looking at Seunghyun, watching him talk, listening with the ears of a childhood friend, turned lover, turned…whatever it was they were now, for him it wasn’t bonding. There was an anxiety in his words, a pain to the shape of his eyes. Basic training had been difficult for Seunghyun, more than others. On top of the whole mess of last year.
He forwent listening to the actual words and instead listened to the rhythm of Seunghyun’s words, noted the way his fingers would flash as he spoke, a nervous tick.
I love you. The words percolated up from somewhere deep within him. It wasn’t a realization as much as the emergence of a long unacknowledged truth. There was a time when those words were held close and secret in his heart, the words of a youth with a soul-searing crush. Then they were a confession. They spent time as an exclamation of passion and fire uttered in the throes of lust and desire.
And then they died and turned into ash in his mouth, replaced by the words ‘I hate you’, which were the same words, really, just in a different shape.
They’d returned, the words, after years and age, to claim the realm of brotherhood and camaraderie.
And somehow, at some indeterminate time, they’d shifted once again. There was passion again, and desire, but something much deeper. They were romance and want, yes, but also need and compassion. Give and take.
They were so many things but mostly they were a deep, welling ache that centered on his heart.
He should speak them, give them life, shape, sound. Simple words to say. “I love you.”
He listened as Seunghyun continued to speak, detailing daily life in the barracks, the precise balance of humility and stubbornness to display with his squad, the exact level of deference to be paid to superiors. Maybe Seunghyun was saying 'I love you’, too, right now.
And maybe Jiyong was too drunk to have any grasp on reality.
There had been a moment, months ago.
Seunghyun had invited him over, but Jiyong would have been camped out in Seunghyun’s living room without the invite. They’d been talking and watching movies, and playing music and sitting in silence as one day stretched into two. It had been late at night. Another eternity linked to the one they sat in now, perhaps. Jiyong’s mind felt scrambled and he shook it to reclaim the memory.
Darkness had fallen around them but they hadn’t bothered with light. There hadn’t been alcohol, but they were a bit drunk anyways. On exhaustion, emotional fatigue, on the weight of the million things they wouldn’t talk about.
There had been a lull, a pause, and they had leaned in to one another. A warm hand had cupped his neck. Soft lips had pressed against his. Seunghyun had pressed their foreheads together as his fingers danced along Jiyong’s nape, an old, old habit that had fallen away years before in disuse.
They’d slipped away to sleep shortly thereafter, to wake in a tangle of limbs and blankets and mid-morning sun. Nothing had been said or done, but the kiss lingered in the back of Jiyong’s mind to bloom forth with the words-
I love you.
He was about to leave, be gone for two years, with only the barest handful of time in which he could see Seunghyun again. He wondered how far into the future he’d have to go before they could be like this again, wine on their tongues, music in the air, the comfort of knowing one another inside and out.
He should say it. Confess it. Ask Seunghyun to wait for him to come back, to love him back, to be together again like they were before. But better this time, older and wiser and more patient.
Seunghyun had been quiet for a while. Looking at him, Jiyong recognized distress in the way he stared at his wine glass, the way his fist balled on the armrest. Jiyong half-stood and moved to join him on the couch.
“I’m gonna be ok, you know,” Jiyong said, leaning against Seunghyun’s arm. Seunghyun looked down at him and their eyes met for a moment. “I’m tough and strong.” He offered up a pout then a smile. Seunghyun smiled back and moved his arm to envelop him, tuck Jiyong into his side. Seunghyun’s warmth surrounded him, the sent of his skin, his aftershave, the wine, destroyed him.
“I know, Jiyong-ah, I know.” He rested his cheek on Jiyong’s head and nuzzled a bit against the shortly shaved bristles of hair.
“You have to do a good job, Jiyong,” he whispered, so soft Jiyong could barely hear it. “You have to, because I - I -”
Jiyong sat up, forestalling any blame that Seunghyun could heap upon himself, any failures Seunghyun could lay at his own feet. “Hey, I told you to stop that.” He punctuated with a slap to Seunghyun’s thigh.
Thoughts of confession gave way before concern. “I told you I’m going to be ok. We are going to be ok. Big Bang is ok, hyung.” He willed Seunghyun to believe him. “Say it.”
“We’ll be ok.” Seunghyun did try to sound convinced. Jiyong slid back into his spot at Seunghyun’s side.
“That’s right.”
“We’re going to miss you,” Seunghyun said, “you and Bae,” he tacked on quickly. “The poor maknaes are only going to have me.” He gave a self deprecating laugh and slid forward, pulling his arm out from around Jiyong and resting both elbows on his knees. He drained the last of his wine glass and looked around as if for another bottle.
“Come on,” Jiyong said, standing. “I have to get up early. Are you still coming with?”
Seunghyun nodded and placed his glass on the coffee table. He looked at the hall down which the rest of their band had disappeared earlier in the night. It had been a flight of fancy laced with nostalgia that had driven him to suggest one last sleep over. It reminded him of them a decade gone, crammed into too-small living quarters. A house full of his members, one last time.
They walked together, Seunghyun and Jiyong, down the hall. Daesung’s snores chased Seungri’s as they passed the first room. The low rumble of Youngbae’s voice came through the door of the second. The dutiful new husband, calling his wife for a goodnight chat.
At the end of the hall were two bedrooms. One on the right and one on the left, Seunghyun’s. Jiyong had to go right, of course.
Pull me left, pull me left, his mind begged. His mouth ached to ask but he clamped down on his tongue, unable to speak. It is our last night together, please take me into your room like you have so many times before.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Jiyong managed He turned right towards his guest room.
“Yeah, uh,” Seunghyun stopped and Jiyong stopped beside him, hand frozen over the door handle. “There are towels in your bathroom, should be at least. If you want to shower early. And I think my mom is bringing breakfast and - uh - probably your mom, too.”
Jiyong looked up at him, desire fracturing in his heart. He attempted a smile; the darkness of the hallway masked his failure.
“Kay,” Jiyong said. “Goodnight.”
As he clicked the door shut behind him he hears Seunghyun’s voice answer, “goodnight.”
