In honor of kcon LA: Yoongi/kihyun "I get enough of that struggling artist angst at home, yoongi"
Just for you ~
Kihyun vapes, because of course he does. He’s a singer so smoking is off the table, but the right mix of nicotine and bad habits will keep you alert and take the edge off your appetite. That’s far too valuable for an idol to pass up.
He must have smoked once upon a time though. Yoongi takes a drag of his cigarette and bites his tongue to keep from laughing when Kihyun’s eyes go wide, following the trail of smoke disappearing into the early evening air.
They’re squeezed into an alcove that serves as the only real blind spot available at MBC (who don’t put nearly enough effort into maintaining the talent’s privacy if anyone’s asking Yoongi. Not that anyone is asking Yoongi. Why the fuck would anyone care what he had to say?). It’s not raining, but soon enough it will be. They’re in a race against time to finish what they’ve started before they get drenched.
Smoke is met with vapour, smelling of fake apple flavouring, like those shitty sweets Namjoon found in America. Yoongi can’t say he approves but he’s not exactly in a position to pass up Kihyun’s company.
“I just feel like I could have done more with the last album, you know? I’m better than this, but I need practice if I’m ever gonna progress.”
Kihyun makes a face, “didn’t you just drop a mixtape?”
“Yes but-”
“And you produced a track on the album.”
“Ok, no that was-”
“And you’ve been writing and producing shit for yourself since you first became an idol?”
Yoongi scowls and shakes his head, raises the cigarette to his lips once again and inhales too hard. He has to swallow his coughs but it’s worth it, to keep composure. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” Kihyun’s voice is sharp, painfully quick off the mark as always. Yoongi spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye and spots a pair of bright eyes cutting through the smoke and fog. He knows the speech, the one about sold-out arena tours and best selling albums, fan adoration, youtube views through the roof. It’s not that he’s not grateful, but it doesn’t fill the space he so carefully left in his life for music.
They’ve had this argument a hundred times, and Kihyun always wins. He’s got more practice at this. A silence falls between them, born of anticipation, but Yoongi doesn’t feel much up to a fight.
Kihyun huffs, “that’s what I thought. Honestly, I swear this industry does something to you rappers’ heads. I get the same nonsense from Jooheon at least once a week. You gotta work out how to be happy with the blessings you have rather than the ones you wish you had, you’re not gonna be famous forever.”
At his most self righteous, Yoongi might say the he doesn’t care whether he’s famous or not. It’s a bare faced lie, but whatever. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t count. They’ll finish up soon enough and head back inside, to the lights the camera and the action. He has to trust that he’ll be glad of it all some day.
ANOTHER PROMPT BC FUCK IT, Agust ssam d, kiseok finds all the implications in yoongis music a little suspect
This is not the fic you thought you were requesting
tw for mental illness talk
Most days, Yoongi’s mood isan afterthought. He’s a bit happy or a bit grumpy or a bit tired. Tired is apowerful emotion, Kiseok feels it faster and faster these days, he’s onlythirty two for fuck’s sake.
Point being, nothing everdeviates too far from the norm, which is less standoffish than it thinks it is,a little hot headed, cuddly in the mornings. Yoongi slips in and out ofKiseok’s apartment like clockwork - they have a routine - and talks in loudgrumbles about his day and his friends and his group mates and whatever elsegoes on when Kiseok’s not watching.
Kiseok’s pretty good atwatching, Kiseok can really pay attention when he wants to.
“You alright?” he slidesYoongi a box of take out chicken from the place down the street.
Yoongi’s eyes are glassy, hisshoulders tight around his ears. His mouth hangs open like there’s a thoughttrying desperately to escape from it that will not be dislodged. He shakeshimself free of his stupor and his shoulders are still tense, “I’m fine.”
That’spretty normal. Kiseok takes a bite of chicken and lets him be.
-
Threedays is a long time for Kiseok to go without texting someone, for Yoongi itwould appear to be more or less standard. It’s a shame, there are dinner datesand movie nights they miss out on when he doesn’t pick up his phone, but itcan’t be helped. If he was trying just a little less hard to be cool, Kiseokmight make a fuss, but it’s easier not to start silly fights in the firstplace.
C u2night? Kiseok send off, tries not to get his hopes up.
Twohours later, he gets a reply. Pretty good going. Don’t think I can. Sorry.Working on some stuff.
Kiseok’sheard that before. You sure you don’t wanna be distracted? ;)
We’lldo something on Tuesday. Yoongi replies.
Kiseokis cool, he doesn’t go chasing after people like that. He doesn’t say anythingwhen the snapchat Yoongi sends him less than an hour later has clearly not beentaken anywhere near the studio.
-
“Igotta go,” Yoongi jumps up from the sofa in a rush.
Kiseokresents the empty space he leaves, “for real? Already?”
Yoongi’salready half way to the door, throwing on outdoor clothing and checking hisphone with a pointed intensity that doesn’t seem entirely natural. Kiseok getsup to show him out, trying not to sulk, trying not to be miffed but…
“C’mon, you can stay another couple of hours. I’ve got something I’ve been meaning toshow you,” he grins, wiggles his eyebrows. When all else fails sex is normallyenough of a reason for Yoongi to pull his shit together.
Yoongisighs, bites his lip. He’s thinking, not in a ‘what I have to do verses what Iwant to do’ sort of way. Kiseok knows what that looks like, it’s a bitirritable and doesn’t like it but chooses what is necessary over what is nice.This is the indecision of someone who doesn’t know what they want. Why wouldYoongi not know? Where does he want to be that isn’t right here?
“Ihave to go,” Yoongi breathes.
Kiseokshrugs, disappointed, watches him go. It bugs him though, something doesn’tquite add up here. Yoongi was smiling just half an hour ago, happy to go alongwith whatever. It doesn’t make sense.
-
Callsin the middle of the night are not completely unheard of, they both keep oddhours, after all. Sometimes it’s a booty call, sometimes a drunk dial,sometimes the world feels so wide at night that it's only fair that they share itwith someone. Kiseok sees Yoongi’s name pop up on the front of his phone,blinking away sleep from a rarely snatched early night. He’s not best pleased.
“What?”he snaps.
“Hey!I just…um…it’s late I just wanted to…” Yoongi’s breathing too much, speakingtoo fast. Kiseok scowls.
“Spitit out.”
“Wehad a late schedule for some bullshit idol business…thing. Anyway I hate peopledon’t you just..hate people sometimes?”
Kiseokwants to slam the phone down and let Yoongi deal with his late night nihilismon someone else’s watch – he’s tired, he doesn’t want to be having thisconversation. But something feels off, either too light or too heavy, he can’tquite work out which, but his gut tells him that he has been called becauseYoongi knows he’ll stay on the line.
“Areyou alright?” Kiseok asks. He can already see Yoongi’s glassy stare, everyonestares off sometimes, nothing weird about it. Everything weird about it. He’snot sure, it feels like he’s crossing unseen boundaries just by entertainingthe idea that anything about this is wrong, and yet it's wrong.
“I’mfine,” Yoongi replies tightly. Then he rattles off some bullshit story about acouple of idols Kiseok doesn’t know and a security guard. It doesn’t sound veryimportant and so he stops paying attention.
-
Kiseok’sa crybaby at heart, he doesn’t mind saying as much. His emotions get the betterof him more often than not and that’s fine. He’d rather feel big and brash thanpretend he doesn’t feel.
Everytime the mixtape ends he goes back to the first track and starts over. He stillhasn’t told Yoongi what he thinks. Fuck, he’s not even really listening to themusic, he’s listening to all the parts of their conversations that have beenmissing, kicking himself for not being just a bit pushier, just a bit moreclingy.
Hefeels numb, and angry, and sad. He doesn’t think crying will help.
-
Ittakes three hours and ten phone calls for Yoongi to pick up, Kiseok’s aboutready to go marching over to his dorm.
Kiseokin Yoongi’s dorm is a hard limit, no go zone. He’d be in the dog house for amonth making up for it, but he’s willing to go that far, if that’s what ittakes. No more half measures.
“Jesusfucking Christ you took your time,” Kiseok collapses onto the sofa, “what wasall that about?”
“Whatwas that about?” There’s a note of bemused indulgence in Yoongi’s voice. Hedoesn’t sound distant or distracted or wrong, he sounds like he’s supposed to sound.Like he always sounds, until he doesn’t.
Kiseokdoesn’t know where to begin to start, so he starts at the impetus. “Thatfucking mixtape.”
“Youdidn’t like it?”
“That’sreally not the point,” Kiseok winces, kicking himself internally for saying itlike that. He can practically see Yoongi shrinking in on himself, he’s not asgood at taking criticism as he’d like to be, “Yoongi, you shouldn’t go airingyour shit out like that.”
“It’smy shit, I’ll air it where I like,”
“Whereyou want to air it and where’s good to air it are two different things, trustme.”
“Idon’t know wh-“
“Assomeone who’s been doing this for a lot longer than you, trust me,” Kiseokfinds his pacing, slows down, lets his voice settle into a tone less accusatoryand more comforting, “you gotta be careful what you put out there.”
Thereis silence, and for a long moment Kiseok worries that Yoongi will think up anexcuse to end this conversation and things will proceed as normal.
“Itjust…” Yoongi starts quiet, “it feels so much better to get it out.”
“Youhave friends, don’t you?”
“Yeahbut…I dunno man I’m not sure it makes much difference if I talk to a friend orif I talk to a mic.”
Ofcourse he doesn’t, he’s still so goddamn young. Kiseok feels tired justthinking about it, “It makes all the difference. The people who are listeningto this, they don’t know you like that. But they think they do. Mixing thiskind of shit with your fans can only go so far before it gets nasty.”
“Whatelse am I supposed to do?” Yoongi sounds miserable.
“Talkto me!” Kiseok smiles despite himself, the simple things always come hardest.
Theyboth stop, take pause. Trapped in the headlights, nowhere to run.
“Notright now,” Yoongi says, “I’ll see you Thusday just…not tonight.”
Tuesdayis three days away. Kiseok has just enough patience to stretch that far.
