where there's smoke...
...there's fire.
a drabble for dragontory; wherein Youngbae misses Jiyong’s smell and Seunhyun realises he should quit.
PG-13
warnings: graphic smoking, gaygaygaygaaaaay
pairing: GDYB, ToBae
Youngbae finds himself hanging over the railing on the roof of Seunghyun’s luxurious apartment building, getting blinded a little by the reflection of the sinking sun in several of Seoul’s tallest, glass-panelled office complexions. It’s been a hot, smoldering day, like it had been for the whole past week. Change is in the air though, finally. The wind is picking up -especially noticeable at this height- and clouds are gathering in the distance. There is that vibe of electricity in the air that makes Youngbae a little nervous, giddy, anticipating the change in weather and the probable thunder accompanying it. But for now the warmth of the day still lingers, and he busies himself with the marvelous view upon the smog-veiled city this vantage point allows him.
Currently, Seungri and Daesung reside in Japan, Jiyong has gone abroad for a while for some kind of stupid fashion thing and Youngbae has come to Seunghyun’s home to fight off the loneliness -even though the rapper won’t be there with him before eleven tonight. It’s a little bit pathetic maybe, but both at home and in the dorm Youngbae has gotten so used to having people around that prolonged periods of silence have become a little frightning in themselves.
Youngbae had planned on the effective combo of both distracting himself and surprising his hyung with dinner, but when he worked his way through the kitchen drawers he’d stumbled upon a pack of Marlboro reds and he just couldn’t help himself after that. It is how he ended up here, with a stolen borrowed carton that spells ‘smokers die younger’ in big, bold letters and a lighter clutched in his fist.
Youngbae can’t quite believe he’s about to do what he’s about to do, but then he remembers once again the smell of nicotine clinging to Jiyong’s hair, to his breath, to his hands and it’s an addiction on it’s own, even if he’s not quite ready to admit that yet. He tells himself it’s plain curiousity that gets him fumbling with the lighter, and not stupidity or un-reckoned sentiment.
After the first cigarette is properly lit, Youngbae sucks air into his mouth and is momentarily surprised by how well he is taking it. Then he makes the mistake of actually breathing and things go wrong immediately. He ends up coughing, smoke prickling both his throat and the inside of his nose and his eyes and god this is disgusting! But somewhere hidden behind the sting is that something he was aching for and it’s calling to him, beckoning in the way smoke curls delicately around his face and fingers so he tries again.
He keeps at it dedicatedly, like so many things in his life, and it’s halfway through his third cigarette that he manages to fill up his lungs completely without tears stinging his eyes or his ribcage protesting as tar tickles it’s way inside.
How Jiyong manages to make this shit smell so good on him remains forever a mystery, because Youngbae’s pretty sure by now he himself smells and tastes like a fucking ashtray. Not sexy. How many times would he have to brush his teeth? How many chewing gums before all traces are erased?
“I see you’ve taken my spot.”
Youngbae’s train of though is disrupted by a sudden low rumble behind his back, and even though he recognises the voice, he still swirls around in surprise. Seunghyun has already stepped past him however, his elbows coming to rest on the railing.
“I assume those are mine, too.” The man nods at the pack of cigarettes Youngbae left balancing on the edge. Youngbae feels strangely busted, drops his gaze in embarrassment to stare at the evidence of his crime, still dangling loosely between his fingertips. To his surprise Seunghyun doesn’t attempt to question his motivations (he wouldn’t have known how to answer) so after a few tense seconds Youngbae just settles for grinning sheepishly in acknowledgement. He half waits for Seunghyun to explain why he’s home a good three hours before he should be, but Seunghyun doesn’t explain anything. The rapper isn’t even looking at him and instead just states his findings to the sky. “Management will kill you.” His back forms a sharp silhouette against stark hues of orange.
Youngbae’s eyes narrow a little because shit, Seunghyun didn’t really have a right to talk here, did he? But then he remembers that his hyung doesn’t need to reach any high pitched notes like the ones he signed a contract for and his head falls low.
“Jiyong will, too.” He eventually agrees with a heavy sigh, placing his own arms beside Seunghyun on the railing and taking another drag because if he’s anything, it’s not wasteful. Seunghyun turns to lean over, snatches the cigarette from his fingers. Youngbae watches enthralled as the rapper takes a drag too, seems to savour the smoke before releasing it and creating a soft, playful ghost figure to dance in the air. While looking from the side at his hyung with his almost childlike profile, this smoking-thing doesn’t actually suit him, Youngbae thinks.
“Yeah,” Seunghyun’s eyes are dark when he catches Youngbae’s gaze suddenly, tone of voice unreadable. “It’s Jiyong, isn’t it?”
Youngbae is startled by the question because it’s true. And he has no immediate reply because he hasn’t figured out how it is true, but he knows now that it is. Not that he can focus anyway, with Seunghyun unexpectedly moving in to cage him within the circle of his arms and the railing. Youngbae doesn’t know what to do with his hyung like this, tries weakly to laugh it off. Seunghyun is unfazed. The rapper inhales once more through his reclaimed cigarette before throwing it over the ledge -carefully presses their noses together as he breathes smoke into Youngbae’s mouth and he’s too close, too close, too close- and then he’s kissing Youngbae and Youngbae feels way too dizzy to comprehend. Somewhere his mind registers Seunghyun is soft, more gentle than he would expect -but he had never expected anything, honestly- and perhaps this does suit the man with the child’s profile. With the dark eyebrows and surprisingly strong hands that currently hold Youngbae’s head with such delicacy it’s ridiculous as fuck.
By the time Seunghyun breaks away Youngbae’s fingers are trembling and it’s so easy to blame the nicotine fogging his head for that. His voice is a shaky, raspy whisper and he’s pretty sure it doesn’t make sense when he stumbles over his words. “Didn’t you quit, hyung?”
Seunghyun’s arms drop by his sides and there is only the barest flicker of hurt before he composes himself. Swallows.
“I guess I should.”
a drabble for dragontory; wherein Youngbae misses Jiyong’s smell and Seunhyun realises he should quit.
PG-13
warnings: graphic smoking, gaygaygaygaaaaay
pairing: GDYB, ToBae
Youngbae finds himself hanging over the railing on the roof of Seunghyun’s luxurious apartment building, getting blinded a little by the reflection of the sinking sun in several of Seoul’s tallest, glass-panelled office complexions. It’s been a hot, smoldering day, like it had been for the whole past week. Change is in the air though, finally. The wind is picking up -especially noticeable at this height- and clouds are gathering in the distance. There is that vibe of electricity in the air that makes Youngbae a little nervous, giddy, anticipating the change in weather and the probable thunder accompanying it. But for now the warmth of the day still lingers, and he busies himself with the marvelous view upon the smog-veiled city this vantage point allows him.
Currently, Seungri and Daesung reside in Japan, Jiyong has gone abroad for a while for some kind of stupid fashion thing and Youngbae has come to Seunghyun’s home to fight off the loneliness -even though the rapper won’t be there with him before eleven tonight. It’s a little bit pathetic maybe, but both at home and in the dorm Youngbae has gotten so used to having people around that prolonged periods of silence have become a little frightning in themselves.
Youngbae had planned on the effective combo of both distracting himself and surprising his hyung with dinner, but when he worked his way through the kitchen drawers he’d stumbled upon a pack of Marlboro reds and he just couldn’t help himself after that. It is how he ended up here, with a stolen borrowed carton that spells ‘smokers die younger’ in big, bold letters and a lighter clutched in his fist.
Youngbae can’t quite believe he’s about to do what he’s about to do, but then he remembers once again the smell of nicotine clinging to Jiyong’s hair, to his breath, to his hands and it’s an addiction on it’s own, even if he’s not quite ready to admit that yet. He tells himself it’s plain curiousity that gets him fumbling with the lighter, and not stupidity or un-reckoned sentiment.
After the first cigarette is properly lit, Youngbae sucks air into his mouth and is momentarily surprised by how well he is taking it. Then he makes the mistake of actually breathing and things go wrong immediately. He ends up coughing, smoke prickling both his throat and the inside of his nose and his eyes and god this is disgusting! But somewhere hidden behind the sting is that something he was aching for and it’s calling to him, beckoning in the way smoke curls delicately around his face and fingers so he tries again.
He keeps at it dedicatedly, like so many things in his life, and it’s halfway through his third cigarette that he manages to fill up his lungs completely without tears stinging his eyes or his ribcage protesting as tar tickles it’s way inside.
How Jiyong manages to make this shit smell so good on him remains forever a mystery, because Youngbae’s pretty sure by now he himself smells and tastes like a fucking ashtray. Not sexy. How many times would he have to brush his teeth? How many chewing gums before all traces are erased?
“I see you’ve taken my spot.”
Youngbae’s train of though is disrupted by a sudden low rumble behind his back, and even though he recognises the voice, he still swirls around in surprise. Seunghyun has already stepped past him however, his elbows coming to rest on the railing.
“I assume those are mine, too.” The man nods at the pack of cigarettes Youngbae left balancing on the edge. Youngbae feels strangely busted, drops his gaze in embarrassment to stare at the evidence of his crime, still dangling loosely between his fingertips. To his surprise Seunghyun doesn’t attempt to question his motivations (he wouldn’t have known how to answer) so after a few tense seconds Youngbae just settles for grinning sheepishly in acknowledgement. He half waits for Seunghyun to explain why he’s home a good three hours before he should be, but Seunghyun doesn’t explain anything. The rapper isn’t even looking at him and instead just states his findings to the sky. “Management will kill you.” His back forms a sharp silhouette against stark hues of orange.
Youngbae’s eyes narrow a little because shit, Seunghyun didn’t really have a right to talk here, did he? But then he remembers that his hyung doesn’t need to reach any high pitched notes like the ones he signed a contract for and his head falls low.
“Jiyong will, too.” He eventually agrees with a heavy sigh, placing his own arms beside Seunghyun on the railing and taking another drag because if he’s anything, it’s not wasteful. Seunghyun turns to lean over, snatches the cigarette from his fingers. Youngbae watches enthralled as the rapper takes a drag too, seems to savour the smoke before releasing it and creating a soft, playful ghost figure to dance in the air. While looking from the side at his hyung with his almost childlike profile, this smoking-thing doesn’t actually suit him, Youngbae thinks.
“Yeah,” Seunghyun’s eyes are dark when he catches Youngbae’s gaze suddenly, tone of voice unreadable. “It’s Jiyong, isn’t it?”
Youngbae is startled by the question because it’s true. And he has no immediate reply because he hasn’t figured out how it is true, but he knows now that it is. Not that he can focus anyway, with Seunghyun unexpectedly moving in to cage him within the circle of his arms and the railing. Youngbae doesn’t know what to do with his hyung like this, tries weakly to laugh it off. Seunghyun is unfazed. The rapper inhales once more through his reclaimed cigarette before throwing it over the ledge -carefully presses their noses together as he breathes smoke into Youngbae’s mouth and he’s too close, too close, too close- and then he’s kissing Youngbae and Youngbae feels way too dizzy to comprehend. Somewhere his mind registers Seunghyun is soft, more gentle than he would expect -but he had never expected anything, honestly- and perhaps this does suit the man with the child’s profile. With the dark eyebrows and surprisingly strong hands that currently hold Youngbae’s head with such delicacy it’s ridiculous as fuck.
By the time Seunghyun breaks away Youngbae’s fingers are trembling and it’s so easy to blame the nicotine fogging his head for that. His voice is a shaky, raspy whisper and he’s pretty sure it doesn’t make sense when he stumbles over his words. “Didn’t you quit, hyung?”
Seunghyun’s arms drop by his sides and there is only the barest flicker of hurt before he composes himself. Swallows.
“I guess I should.”