{infinite; woohyun/sunggyu} vertigo (i)
Title: vertigo, part i/ii
Fandom: infinite
Pairing: woogyu (woohyun/sunggyu) + implied jongkey, kiwoon, 91line, dooseob
Word count: ~10,000, ARGH
Rating: PG-13 // warnings: mentions of (unfulfilled) suicide
Summary: when it seems like everything in woohyuns life is over, a third year named kim sunggyu shows him what it means to live.
A/N: um i dont really know what to say?? i have a lot of woogyu feels and infinite feels in general, so the first fic on my fic comm will be for infinite ^__^;;;; this is also my first fic for infinite, which i regret because this was painfully long :| idk what my problem is, the other infinite fic im duking out is super duper long too. why.
countless thanks to my one and only iliaccrests for holding my hand and tugging me along for this fic! and so much love i have no words to canttakeabreath for saving me against that monster called html. ♥
vertigo
[1] ❝You will only make it harder for me.❞
The metal of the railing along the length of the rooftop is cold and hostile against his palms, and Woohyun is almost sorry that this will be the last sensation he will ever feel.
He won’t be the first student of Seoul’s most famous fine arts university to decide to pursue their end like this on top of the North dorm, especially among the music department. The finest minds cave the fastest and the easiest. With the pressure and expectations and competition mounted so high here, most parents refuse their children’s dreams, steering them away from the Korea National University of Arts and the career paths an education from this school presents. But Woohyun could never survive with a respectable job like engineering or law, nor can he survive any longer here either.
It’s silly how conscious of his body he is now that he has chosen to leave it. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he can feel every shift and pull of his lean muscles, every nerve ending sparking as if they, too, know it’s over.
He pauses with one leg hoisted over the bar, inhaling the air that can only be so clean around Seoul this high up. It’s painfully sweet despite the bite of cold that stings slightly in his expanding lungs. But besides the chill, he picked a nice day to die; the sky is the most wistful, clear blue he has seen in a long time, completely free of clouds save a tiny wisp too close to the sun to look at comfortably. The burn in his eyes is almost relief.
He loves to sing, still. He knows that. He knows music has been a big part of him ever since he was young, but maybe picking a hobby as his lifestyle was a bad idea. However true it may be that he’s never been happier in vocal classes than anywhere else, clutching sheet music like a lifeline and letting the printed black notes take him somewhere that no transportation on Earth can offer, no matter how much work and fighting it took to make it into this school in the first place, the music is leaving him. So he’s leaving too.
Hitching his other leg over the rail now, he’s overwhelmed by fear, excitement, and determination. It’ll be better next time around. He’ll try again, harder, and try not to disappoint his parents and teachers so badly. Next time, he’ll make more friends to hold him down, maybe even try to fall in love properly.
His fingers peel off of the icy metal so he can fling himself completely off of the roof. It’s terribly close, but the adrenaline is so exhilarating that he doesn’t care. This is it.
“What are you doing!?”
The shout of an unfamiliar voice, the rough grasp of a hand on his shirt dragging him back onto stable ground and life. This hand has jerked him away from his freedom and forgiveness and plunged his face into a bucket of freezing cold water; the shock of failure makes him irrationally angry.
“What are you doing!?” he shouts back, ripping free and whirling around to face this stranger who has ruined everything. The face is just as unfamiliar, one he might have passed in the halls back when he had the energy to leave bed and go somewhere other than the music hall or the roof, but not one he recognizes or can place a name to.
The boy’s brow is furrowed in responding irritation. “Stopping you from jumping off to your death, what else?” he demands, gesturing sharply at the drop Woohyun was going to take.
“What if I wanted to jump?” Woohyun shoots back, the words tearing out of his throat beyond his control. He doesn’t regret it. So what if this person knows? No one else knew the step he had been planning to take only minutes ago, but it doesn’t matter now. The fated chance, the fearless certainty, is gone.
Suddenly, all of the fight and fire deflates out of the boy so abruptly it startles Woohyun out of his own fury, enough that he doesn’t resist the firm fingers around his wrist pulling him down to a sitting position on the floor. “I’m Kim Sunggyu,” the boy says conversationally. “Third year, Schools of Music--Vocal Music. How about you?”
“N-Nam Woohyun, first year in the same department,” Woohyun stammers, still caught off guard. Sunggyu being a third year explains why Woohyun doesn’t know who he is, but otherwise he still knows nothing about this stranger who pulled him away from the roof’s edge.
“You’ll know Professor Kyungsun, then, won’t you?” When Woohyun nods, he continues, “I help him out after hours, and during office hour when I don’t have too much work.”
“I don’t go to office hour,” Woohyun admits. He stopped going months ago, along with doing his homework and attending his requisite classes. Even vocals, he skipped starting from a week ago. He can only take getting worse for so long.
“You should,” Sunggyu says pleasantly. “A lot of us in the Advanced Choir go even if we have no choir practice. We hang out, it’s pretty fun.”
Woohyun makes a noncommittal sound. They sit in quiet silence for a while, and the sense of comfort and peace Sunggyu has somehow brought along with him settles something that wouldn’t stop aching before in Woohyun’s chest. Even when Sunggyu begins humming a gentle, wandering melody softly under his breath, the calm isn’t disrupted.
“Ah,” Sunggyu suddenly says. “Have you eaten yet?”
❧
Despite his fervent head-shaking and insisting how he hates owing people, Woohyun is dragged down to the campus’s main plaza, toward a small cafe he has passed on the way to the main cafeteria but never entered. Sunggyu flashes a smile and nods to a second year by the threshold as he strides purposefully inside to the cash register without letting go of Woohyun--it’s shocking how strong he is, considering his thinner, modest arms and average build, easily overpowering Woohyun and the muscles he maintains so carefully. (He spends hours working on them, as with his skin, because he can’t stand seeing himself more repulsive than he already feels he is.)
“What do you want?” Sunggyu asks, peering up at the menu posted on the wall. “I think I’ll have a mocha cappuccino.”
“I said, nothing!”
Sunggyu rolls his eyes. “I’ll order you the most disgusting thing they have if you don’t say what you want, and pour it down your throat no matter how much you hate it.”
Eventually, Woohyun gives in and lets Sunggyu order the same thing for him. The coffee is surprisingly good, even better with the chocolate-stuffed croissant Sunggyu offers him a bite of once they sit at one of the tables lining the wall of windows. He’s never been here before, never paused to appreciate the view and have a drink between classes. Their university truly believes in aesthetics.
“Do you want more?” The napkin with the remaining half of the croissant is pushed towards him, and Woohyun looks away from the windows at Sunggyu in astonishment.
“I have a small appetite,” Sunggyu explains, wiping his fingers on a napkin.
Woohyun ignores the thought of calories as he reaches for the rest of the dessert, finishing it quickly. It’s been a very long time since he’s allowed himself sweets, and he knows that now he’s tasted sugar, his diet will end. But it doesn’t matter right now, in this bustling, cozy cafe with Sunggyu sitting in front of him, taking a sip of his drink. It’s almost dainty the way this boy eats and drinks, this boy with dark hair falling over his eyes that vanish when he smiles, delicate in a way Woohyun can’t put his finger on. When Sunggyu sets his coffee down and turns it so the mug handle is exactly parallel to the edge of the table, Woohyun decides on perfectionism, but lighter, gentler, in a way Woohyun has never known before; there must be a better word for it.
“I have class in ten minutes, and I still have to go back to my room for my laptop,” Sunggyu tells Woohyun, who realizes he’s staring. “I was going up to the roof for some peace to study, but I ended up taking you out for a drink.” There is no bite in his words, further softened by one of those crinkling smiles.
“Sorry,” Woohyun apologizes at once. The word is odd in his mouth, and he licks his lips awkwardly once it leaves them. He’s never used it much at all--back in high school and the beginning of college, everyone liked him enough that he could be abrasive and rough, and recently he just never used words at all.
“It’s fine,” Sunggyu says, waving away another automatic apology. “I liked it. Shall we meet again tomorrow, here? One o’clock?”
Woohyun agrees without thinking about it, taking in the meticulous way Sunggyu gathers all of his things and following the broad back out of the door and out of sight.
[2] ❝I’ve been wanting to become your everything.❞
They meet at the cafe every afternoon for three months straight no matter how busy they are, for mocha cappucinos and chocolate croissants and each other’s company. In those three months, Woohyun returns to classes, does his best to become more social while surviving the workload of catching up all he has missed, and learns a bit more every single day about Kim Sunggyu over their drinks and food. Part of it is what Sunggyu tells him in conversation, like his undying admiration for an indie group named Nell that Woohyun had never heard of before (Sunggyu panicked and immediately listed several personal favorites for him to listen to), as well as the things Woohyun notices just by watching him: the shadows he gets under his eyes for stressing so much during finals week, for instance, or the way he throws his head back, mouth wide like a black hole, and laughs hard at any jokes Woohyun cracks, no matter how lame or silly. Sunggyu has the sense of humor of a child’s, is afraid to death of dogs, and trusts too easily. He is the kindest person Woohyun has ever met, but by no means weak.
His new roommate, on the other hand, is a different story. Second semester brings a shuffling of dorm rooms and arrangements, and Woohyun is given a double to share with a fellow first year named Kim Kibum in Dance--Performance and Choreography. Kibum, or Key as he insists to be called (“Everyone is named Kim Kibum, I don’t know what my mother was thinking!”), is fierce, blunt, and obsessed with fashion. They get along well enough, besides the fact that he doesn’t really associate himself with dancers and Key comes with a side effect that goes by the name of Kim Jonghyun, a short second year with a phenomenal voice and an infatuation for Key. Unfortunately, Key has a soft spot for him too, so when “Jjong” drops by at their room, which is too often for comfort, Woohyun escapes to the roof.
Even though he’s mostly over his suicidal urges, Woohyun still loves the sensation of being on top of the world when he looks over the rooftop. His new dorm building offers a different view without stealing the enjoyment of the last one; fate smiles fondly upon him and Sunggyu moves into the same building as the RA. Woohyun recalls Sunggyu telling him about the tiring but fun training program he was doing before they separated for a calm, monotonous winter break, but he never expected to end up in the same dorm. It’d be foolish to waste such luck--he drops by Sunggyu’s single when there are no first years asking for advice or none of Sunggyu’s third-year friends are there for a study session. Sometimes it’s just a quick hello, but other times Sunggyu makes him a cup of tea, or they go up to the roof or down to the cafe.
The third time Woohyun declines lunch with Key to eat with Sunggyu, his painfully astute roommate immediately extracts every detail why, forgives him instantly, and pledges himself to the cause of getting Woohyun with Sunggyu by the end of the year. “Though I’m sure I won’t even need that long,” Key assures him one night they’re staying up to do homework together. “My track record is flawless, and you’re so head over fucking heels for this guy that it’ll be a piece of cake.”
“I’d rather you not, actually,” Woohyun moans into his pillow, having had given up on music theory for the night; he’ll have Sunggyu help him with it at breakfast. “It won’t matter how much I like him if he doesn’t like me that way. I bet he’s into girls.”
“That’s what everyone said about Jjong, but he’s all over me, isn’t he?” Key says smugly.
Woohyun rolls over to glare at him. “I don’t look exactly like you, if you haven’t noticed, nor is Sunggyu anything like Jonghyun.” It’s not hard to see what Jonghyun likes so much about Key; Key is refreshingly honest, allure embodied on a dance floor. There is no one unique or pretty the way Key is, tastefully feminine with delicate facial features and body type that somehow work with his masculine air; he could easily pass for a girl but works perfectly as a boy too. But Nam Woohyun is all and only boy, and his face and body reflect that.
“Don’t kid me, Woohyun,” Key shoots back. “I know you think you’re good-looking. I’ve seen you charm girls without even trying.”
“Sunggyu isn’t a girl!” Woohyun says in frustration, sitting up and scowling directly at his roommate. “That’s the problem!”
“Nam Woohyun,” Key says, enunciating over-exaggeratedly and eyeing him pointedly. “I don’t know any guy in his right mind that would spend as much time as Sunggyu does with you unless they have some degree of liking for you.”
Woohyun groans, flopping back. “It’s all platonic,” he tells the ceiling. “There’s no way he’d like me back. It’s completely impossible.” His tone closes the conversation, so firm that Key abandons the topic for the time being.
But he’s never quite considered why Sunggyu spends so much time with him. Sunggyu doesn’t lack friends or companions, always so good-natured and nice, and he’s plenty busy with his studies and RA duties anyways. Yet he always carves out time for Woohyun, even beyond meal times, just so they can talk and laugh or just study quietly beside each other. If they don’t see each other through the day, Sunggyu always manages a few texts; they traded cell phone numbers a while back when Woohyun needed help for a project that Sunggyu had done before (and gotten full marks for, which was more than could have been said for Woohyun’s scraping grade). Before, Woohyun chalked it up to kindness, maybe even pity--after all, they had met because Woohyun had attempted to die, so maybe Sunggyu is just trying to prevent that from happening because he’s nice like that--but now he has another theory.
No. Key is wrong. It’s best to squash out any hope before it festers into something that hurts later, Woohyun decides.
❧
The next day, Woohyun goes to meet Sunggyu at the cafe for breakfast. The other boy wakes so much earlier than him, even though he has confessed before to Woohyun that if he was allowed to, he could sleep throughout the entire day. As per usual, Sunggyu is already there first and, as per usual seeing the weather, he bundled up in a thick layer of clothing, from the beanie on his head to the scarf wrapped around his neck. Frankly, he looks adorable.
“Hey,” Woohyun says, dumping his bag into the seat beside him and taking the lid off of his coffee so it can cool faster. He quickly reached a point where he refused to allow Sunggyu to buy anything for him anymore, knowing the selfless boy would pull out his wallet every time if Woohyun let him.
Sunggyu looks up from his worn, evidently well-loved book; Woohyun recognizes it as The Republic, a philosophical dialogue by Plato he never picked up again after studying it during his Ancient Literature course in high school. Of course Sunggyu would be into things so deep and difficult and stuffy. His taste in practically everything is different from Woohyun’s, enamored with soulful and wistful music. Woohyun fills his music player with the sharp pop beats he dreams to perform someday, yet they still manage to get along. How much of that is Sunggyu’s patience and Woohyun’s tenacity, he’s not too sure.
“Good morning, Woohyun!” he says brightly, putting aside the book and starting on the croissant Woohyun pushes toward him--they’ve tacitly agreed to take turns buying it since they always share, Sunggyu because he rarely can finish it all, and Woohyun because he’s scared to finish one by himself. No matter what Key says, he’s still insecure.
“You can help me with theory again, right?” Woohyun asks, already reaching for his bag before Sunggyu even nods.
When they draw their heads close over the worksheets, Woohyun listens to Sunggyu’s gentle murmur, laughs when Sunggyu’s voice cracks because it’s too early in the morning, and marvels at this kind boy who never puts himself before others. If it’s within his abilities, Sunggyu will do whatever people ask him, and he can do practically anything. If someone is struggling, he’ll help them without a single thought. If someone needs something done, he’ll do it without any consideration of how it inconveniences himself. And Woohyun, despite all of his teasing when Sunggyu’s stutter comes out when he gets excited or when Sunggyu goes to extra trouble just to fold his jacket so it won’t wrinkle, Woohyun finds all of the good he wishes his personality had in Kim Sunggyu.
❧
Jonghyun stops by that night as usual, but instead of entering the room as Woohyun leaves, he waits at the threshold and looks expectantly at Key. Woohyun’s roommate has been fluttering around the dorm room for the past hour and a half, rushing from his closet to the bathroom again and again until it made Woohyun’s head hurt to watch him. When he asked what was going on, Key shot him down without even looking in his direction, readjusting his hair in front of the mirror he had on his desk.
Key grabs his phone from his bedside table and then, inexplicably, crosses the room to Woohyun and yanks him off of his bed. “Hey!” Woohyun sputters angrily, but he fails to pull his arm out of Key’s grasp as he is led to Key’s closet.
“My clothes will probably fit you properly in the chest, but your arms are a bit too thick compared to mine,” Key scowls, shuffling through the rack. He pulls out a black, vest-like top that he holds against Woohyun’s torso. “Try that.”
When Woohyun obediently pulls the vest over his black wifebeater, Key panics. “No, no! You can’t wear anything underneath.”
“But then it exposes too much!” Woohyun protests, shoving the vest back at him. They reject a few more outfits because of this reason, until Key wrestles off Woohyun’s wifebeater and, amid shouting and struggling, pulls a mesh t-shirt over his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Woohyun chokes out when he sees himself in the mirror.
“What’s the point of working out every day if no one sees those abs? You don’t even try to charm girls anymore,” Key reasons drily.
Woohyun lunges desperately for his sweatshirt, but Key intercepts him, flinging a leather jacket into his arms and dragging him first to the bathroom where Key seems to stab him in the eyes with an eyeliner pencil, then to where Jonghyun has been watching the entire thing with amusement. They ignore Woohyun’s almost hysterical protests as they take him with them down to the parking lots where Jonghyun’s car awaits. Woohyun hopes in desperation that the ever diligent RA will notice and come to rescue him, though the idea of Sunggyu seeing him in this shirt makes him want to keel over with embarrassment. Sunggyu must be at office hour though, because no one saves Woohyun from being stuffed into the backseat and spirited off to an unknown location.
The engine purrs quietly when Jonghyun pulls into a parking space in an area downtown that Woohyun has never been to before. Subdued, Woohyun trails behind them after Key foils yet another attempt to escape, huddled in the jacket and miserably cold because the wind keeps blowing through the shirt and chilling him to the bone. It’s just like Key to give him something with a broken zipper.
“You’ve taken me to a club?”
Key rolls his kohl-lined eyes, taking his wrist and pulling him to the front of the long line. “Where else would wearing flashy clothes like ours be appropriate?”
With an ease that astounds Woohyun, Key and Jonghyun pass by the bouncer at the front, taking him into a dim world punctuated with flashing lights and pulsing beats. The floor vibrates with the bass, which seems to have paced itself with Woohyun’s heartbeat. “What on earth...”
“Sunggyu has made you too tense and uptight,” Key tells him as he tugs him insistently forward towards the bar. “There’s no doubt he’s good for you, but I’m here to balance him out. You need to relax, and there’s nothing that dancing and drinking can’t make better. When was the last time you did something like this?”
“End of senior year of high school? I partied a lot then but not anymore,” Woohyun shrugs. His days now pass so quietly yet so comfortably that he doesn’t long for the excitement of crazy parties; looking back, everyone at those parties does something stupid that they’ll regret the next morning. He doesn’t need to be one of those people anymore.
Key gapes at the prospect of months and months of abstinence, then propels him forward even faster. Woohyun doesn’t know what Key orders for him, but once he takes a cautious sip, he has no doubt it’s the strongest thing they have. The drink burns on its way down his throat but sends tendrils of warmth through his chest that makes him take another gulp, then another and another until the bottom of the glass peers back at him. But when Key places another cup into his hands, he goes ahead and finishes it too, because the knots in his shoulders from sitting and studying all the time are loosening and he hasn’t felt this free in a very long time, not since he inhaled air that stung his insides the same way as the drink does and metal bit into his hands, cold and unfriendly. The bar brings the exact same feeling when he reaches out to steady himself, as well as the same feelings he had then. Now, once again, he’s free.
When Woohyun gets drunk, especially when he’s as trashed as he is now, he’s reckless and extremely clingy. He dances with (and on) countless people, both boys and girls, between several more drinks; even when his vision blurs and staying upright is a bit of an ordeal, he keeps going back for more. Not even the sight of Key wrapped up so tightly with Jonghyun in a dark corner that they’re one entity can shake him, not even when the hands of a stranger creep up his revealing shirt--the jacket is long gone; Key will probably kill him tomorrow because he has no idea where it is--and trail across his skin, nails scrapping across ever so slightly. He brushes them off with a confident smirk that completes the sensation of stepping back into his old skin. What was he thinking before? Clubbing is the best fucking thing ever.
The rest of the night, however, is a bit of a blur. His brain has stopped firing those nerve impulses properly for a long time, so after he grossly misjudges the distance and almost falls over his chair, nothing stops him from calling that first number on his speed dial, nothing stops him from slurring, “Gyugyu hyung, Woohyunnie loooves you~”
part two
Fandom: infinite
Pairing: woogyu (woohyun/sunggyu) + implied jongkey, kiwoon, 91line, dooseob
Word count: ~10,000, ARGH
Rating: PG-13 // warnings: mentions of (unfulfilled) suicide
Summary: when it seems like everything in woohyuns life is over, a third year named kim sunggyu shows him what it means to live.
A/N: um i dont really know what to say?? i have a lot of woogyu feels and infinite feels in general, so the first fic on my fic comm will be for infinite ^__^;;;; this is also my first fic for infinite, which i regret because this was painfully long :| idk what my problem is, the other infinite fic im duking out is super duper long too. why.
countless thanks to my one and only iliaccrests for holding my hand and tugging me along for this fic! and so much love i have no words to canttakeabreath for saving me against that monster called html. ♥
vertigo
[1] ❝You will only make it harder for me.❞
The metal of the railing along the length of the rooftop is cold and hostile against his palms, and Woohyun is almost sorry that this will be the last sensation he will ever feel.
He won’t be the first student of Seoul’s most famous fine arts university to decide to pursue their end like this on top of the North dorm, especially among the music department. The finest minds cave the fastest and the easiest. With the pressure and expectations and competition mounted so high here, most parents refuse their children’s dreams, steering them away from the Korea National University of Arts and the career paths an education from this school presents. But Woohyun could never survive with a respectable job like engineering or law, nor can he survive any longer here either.
It’s silly how conscious of his body he is now that he has chosen to leave it. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he can feel every shift and pull of his lean muscles, every nerve ending sparking as if they, too, know it’s over.
He pauses with one leg hoisted over the bar, inhaling the air that can only be so clean around Seoul this high up. It’s painfully sweet despite the bite of cold that stings slightly in his expanding lungs. But besides the chill, he picked a nice day to die; the sky is the most wistful, clear blue he has seen in a long time, completely free of clouds save a tiny wisp too close to the sun to look at comfortably. The burn in his eyes is almost relief.
He loves to sing, still. He knows that. He knows music has been a big part of him ever since he was young, but maybe picking a hobby as his lifestyle was a bad idea. However true it may be that he’s never been happier in vocal classes than anywhere else, clutching sheet music like a lifeline and letting the printed black notes take him somewhere that no transportation on Earth can offer, no matter how much work and fighting it took to make it into this school in the first place, the music is leaving him. So he’s leaving too.
Hitching his other leg over the rail now, he’s overwhelmed by fear, excitement, and determination. It’ll be better next time around. He’ll try again, harder, and try not to disappoint his parents and teachers so badly. Next time, he’ll make more friends to hold him down, maybe even try to fall in love properly.
His fingers peel off of the icy metal so he can fling himself completely off of the roof. It’s terribly close, but the adrenaline is so exhilarating that he doesn’t care. This is it.
“What are you doing!?”
The shout of an unfamiliar voice, the rough grasp of a hand on his shirt dragging him back onto stable ground and life. This hand has jerked him away from his freedom and forgiveness and plunged his face into a bucket of freezing cold water; the shock of failure makes him irrationally angry.
“What are you doing!?” he shouts back, ripping free and whirling around to face this stranger who has ruined everything. The face is just as unfamiliar, one he might have passed in the halls back when he had the energy to leave bed and go somewhere other than the music hall or the roof, but not one he recognizes or can place a name to.
The boy’s brow is furrowed in responding irritation. “Stopping you from jumping off to your death, what else?” he demands, gesturing sharply at the drop Woohyun was going to take.
“What if I wanted to jump?” Woohyun shoots back, the words tearing out of his throat beyond his control. He doesn’t regret it. So what if this person knows? No one else knew the step he had been planning to take only minutes ago, but it doesn’t matter now. The fated chance, the fearless certainty, is gone.
Suddenly, all of the fight and fire deflates out of the boy so abruptly it startles Woohyun out of his own fury, enough that he doesn’t resist the firm fingers around his wrist pulling him down to a sitting position on the floor. “I’m Kim Sunggyu,” the boy says conversationally. “Third year, Schools of Music--Vocal Music. How about you?”
“N-Nam Woohyun, first year in the same department,” Woohyun stammers, still caught off guard. Sunggyu being a third year explains why Woohyun doesn’t know who he is, but otherwise he still knows nothing about this stranger who pulled him away from the roof’s edge.
“You’ll know Professor Kyungsun, then, won’t you?” When Woohyun nods, he continues, “I help him out after hours, and during office hour when I don’t have too much work.”
“I don’t go to office hour,” Woohyun admits. He stopped going months ago, along with doing his homework and attending his requisite classes. Even vocals, he skipped starting from a week ago. He can only take getting worse for so long.
“You should,” Sunggyu says pleasantly. “A lot of us in the Advanced Choir go even if we have no choir practice. We hang out, it’s pretty fun.”
Woohyun makes a noncommittal sound. They sit in quiet silence for a while, and the sense of comfort and peace Sunggyu has somehow brought along with him settles something that wouldn’t stop aching before in Woohyun’s chest. Even when Sunggyu begins humming a gentle, wandering melody softly under his breath, the calm isn’t disrupted.
“Ah,” Sunggyu suddenly says. “Have you eaten yet?”
❧
Despite his fervent head-shaking and insisting how he hates owing people, Woohyun is dragged down to the campus’s main plaza, toward a small cafe he has passed on the way to the main cafeteria but never entered. Sunggyu flashes a smile and nods to a second year by the threshold as he strides purposefully inside to the cash register without letting go of Woohyun--it’s shocking how strong he is, considering his thinner, modest arms and average build, easily overpowering Woohyun and the muscles he maintains so carefully. (He spends hours working on them, as with his skin, because he can’t stand seeing himself more repulsive than he already feels he is.)
“What do you want?” Sunggyu asks, peering up at the menu posted on the wall. “I think I’ll have a mocha cappuccino.”
“I said, nothing!”
Sunggyu rolls his eyes. “I’ll order you the most disgusting thing they have if you don’t say what you want, and pour it down your throat no matter how much you hate it.”
Eventually, Woohyun gives in and lets Sunggyu order the same thing for him. The coffee is surprisingly good, even better with the chocolate-stuffed croissant Sunggyu offers him a bite of once they sit at one of the tables lining the wall of windows. He’s never been here before, never paused to appreciate the view and have a drink between classes. Their university truly believes in aesthetics.
“Do you want more?” The napkin with the remaining half of the croissant is pushed towards him, and Woohyun looks away from the windows at Sunggyu in astonishment.
“I have a small appetite,” Sunggyu explains, wiping his fingers on a napkin.
Woohyun ignores the thought of calories as he reaches for the rest of the dessert, finishing it quickly. It’s been a very long time since he’s allowed himself sweets, and he knows that now he’s tasted sugar, his diet will end. But it doesn’t matter right now, in this bustling, cozy cafe with Sunggyu sitting in front of him, taking a sip of his drink. It’s almost dainty the way this boy eats and drinks, this boy with dark hair falling over his eyes that vanish when he smiles, delicate in a way Woohyun can’t put his finger on. When Sunggyu sets his coffee down and turns it so the mug handle is exactly parallel to the edge of the table, Woohyun decides on perfectionism, but lighter, gentler, in a way Woohyun has never known before; there must be a better word for it.
“I have class in ten minutes, and I still have to go back to my room for my laptop,” Sunggyu tells Woohyun, who realizes he’s staring. “I was going up to the roof for some peace to study, but I ended up taking you out for a drink.” There is no bite in his words, further softened by one of those crinkling smiles.
“Sorry,” Woohyun apologizes at once. The word is odd in his mouth, and he licks his lips awkwardly once it leaves them. He’s never used it much at all--back in high school and the beginning of college, everyone liked him enough that he could be abrasive and rough, and recently he just never used words at all.
“It’s fine,” Sunggyu says, waving away another automatic apology. “I liked it. Shall we meet again tomorrow, here? One o’clock?”
Woohyun agrees without thinking about it, taking in the meticulous way Sunggyu gathers all of his things and following the broad back out of the door and out of sight.
[2] ❝I’ve been wanting to become your everything.❞
They meet at the cafe every afternoon for three months straight no matter how busy they are, for mocha cappucinos and chocolate croissants and each other’s company. In those three months, Woohyun returns to classes, does his best to become more social while surviving the workload of catching up all he has missed, and learns a bit more every single day about Kim Sunggyu over their drinks and food. Part of it is what Sunggyu tells him in conversation, like his undying admiration for an indie group named Nell that Woohyun had never heard of before (Sunggyu panicked and immediately listed several personal favorites for him to listen to), as well as the things Woohyun notices just by watching him: the shadows he gets under his eyes for stressing so much during finals week, for instance, or the way he throws his head back, mouth wide like a black hole, and laughs hard at any jokes Woohyun cracks, no matter how lame or silly. Sunggyu has the sense of humor of a child’s, is afraid to death of dogs, and trusts too easily. He is the kindest person Woohyun has ever met, but by no means weak.
His new roommate, on the other hand, is a different story. Second semester brings a shuffling of dorm rooms and arrangements, and Woohyun is given a double to share with a fellow first year named Kim Kibum in Dance--Performance and Choreography. Kibum, or Key as he insists to be called (“Everyone is named Kim Kibum, I don’t know what my mother was thinking!”), is fierce, blunt, and obsessed with fashion. They get along well enough, besides the fact that he doesn’t really associate himself with dancers and Key comes with a side effect that goes by the name of Kim Jonghyun, a short second year with a phenomenal voice and an infatuation for Key. Unfortunately, Key has a soft spot for him too, so when “Jjong” drops by at their room, which is too often for comfort, Woohyun escapes to the roof.
Even though he’s mostly over his suicidal urges, Woohyun still loves the sensation of being on top of the world when he looks over the rooftop. His new dorm building offers a different view without stealing the enjoyment of the last one; fate smiles fondly upon him and Sunggyu moves into the same building as the RA. Woohyun recalls Sunggyu telling him about the tiring but fun training program he was doing before they separated for a calm, monotonous winter break, but he never expected to end up in the same dorm. It’d be foolish to waste such luck--he drops by Sunggyu’s single when there are no first years asking for advice or none of Sunggyu’s third-year friends are there for a study session. Sometimes it’s just a quick hello, but other times Sunggyu makes him a cup of tea, or they go up to the roof or down to the cafe.
The third time Woohyun declines lunch with Key to eat with Sunggyu, his painfully astute roommate immediately extracts every detail why, forgives him instantly, and pledges himself to the cause of getting Woohyun with Sunggyu by the end of the year. “Though I’m sure I won’t even need that long,” Key assures him one night they’re staying up to do homework together. “My track record is flawless, and you’re so head over fucking heels for this guy that it’ll be a piece of cake.”
“I’d rather you not, actually,” Woohyun moans into his pillow, having had given up on music theory for the night; he’ll have Sunggyu help him with it at breakfast. “It won’t matter how much I like him if he doesn’t like me that way. I bet he’s into girls.”
“That’s what everyone said about Jjong, but he’s all over me, isn’t he?” Key says smugly.
Woohyun rolls over to glare at him. “I don’t look exactly like you, if you haven’t noticed, nor is Sunggyu anything like Jonghyun.” It’s not hard to see what Jonghyun likes so much about Key; Key is refreshingly honest, allure embodied on a dance floor. There is no one unique or pretty the way Key is, tastefully feminine with delicate facial features and body type that somehow work with his masculine air; he could easily pass for a girl but works perfectly as a boy too. But Nam Woohyun is all and only boy, and his face and body reflect that.
“Don’t kid me, Woohyun,” Key shoots back. “I know you think you’re good-looking. I’ve seen you charm girls without even trying.”
“Sunggyu isn’t a girl!” Woohyun says in frustration, sitting up and scowling directly at his roommate. “That’s the problem!”
“Nam Woohyun,” Key says, enunciating over-exaggeratedly and eyeing him pointedly. “I don’t know any guy in his right mind that would spend as much time as Sunggyu does with you unless they have some degree of liking for you.”
Woohyun groans, flopping back. “It’s all platonic,” he tells the ceiling. “There’s no way he’d like me back. It’s completely impossible.” His tone closes the conversation, so firm that Key abandons the topic for the time being.
But he’s never quite considered why Sunggyu spends so much time with him. Sunggyu doesn’t lack friends or companions, always so good-natured and nice, and he’s plenty busy with his studies and RA duties anyways. Yet he always carves out time for Woohyun, even beyond meal times, just so they can talk and laugh or just study quietly beside each other. If they don’t see each other through the day, Sunggyu always manages a few texts; they traded cell phone numbers a while back when Woohyun needed help for a project that Sunggyu had done before (and gotten full marks for, which was more than could have been said for Woohyun’s scraping grade). Before, Woohyun chalked it up to kindness, maybe even pity--after all, they had met because Woohyun had attempted to die, so maybe Sunggyu is just trying to prevent that from happening because he’s nice like that--but now he has another theory.
No. Key is wrong. It’s best to squash out any hope before it festers into something that hurts later, Woohyun decides.
❧
The next day, Woohyun goes to meet Sunggyu at the cafe for breakfast. The other boy wakes so much earlier than him, even though he has confessed before to Woohyun that if he was allowed to, he could sleep throughout the entire day. As per usual, Sunggyu is already there first and, as per usual seeing the weather, he bundled up in a thick layer of clothing, from the beanie on his head to the scarf wrapped around his neck. Frankly, he looks adorable.
“Hey,” Woohyun says, dumping his bag into the seat beside him and taking the lid off of his coffee so it can cool faster. He quickly reached a point where he refused to allow Sunggyu to buy anything for him anymore, knowing the selfless boy would pull out his wallet every time if Woohyun let him.
Sunggyu looks up from his worn, evidently well-loved book; Woohyun recognizes it as The Republic, a philosophical dialogue by Plato he never picked up again after studying it during his Ancient Literature course in high school. Of course Sunggyu would be into things so deep and difficult and stuffy. His taste in practically everything is different from Woohyun’s, enamored with soulful and wistful music. Woohyun fills his music player with the sharp pop beats he dreams to perform someday, yet they still manage to get along. How much of that is Sunggyu’s patience and Woohyun’s tenacity, he’s not too sure.
“Good morning, Woohyun!” he says brightly, putting aside the book and starting on the croissant Woohyun pushes toward him--they’ve tacitly agreed to take turns buying it since they always share, Sunggyu because he rarely can finish it all, and Woohyun because he’s scared to finish one by himself. No matter what Key says, he’s still insecure.
“You can help me with theory again, right?” Woohyun asks, already reaching for his bag before Sunggyu even nods.
When they draw their heads close over the worksheets, Woohyun listens to Sunggyu’s gentle murmur, laughs when Sunggyu’s voice cracks because it’s too early in the morning, and marvels at this kind boy who never puts himself before others. If it’s within his abilities, Sunggyu will do whatever people ask him, and he can do practically anything. If someone is struggling, he’ll help them without a single thought. If someone needs something done, he’ll do it without any consideration of how it inconveniences himself. And Woohyun, despite all of his teasing when Sunggyu’s stutter comes out when he gets excited or when Sunggyu goes to extra trouble just to fold his jacket so it won’t wrinkle, Woohyun finds all of the good he wishes his personality had in Kim Sunggyu.
❧
Jonghyun stops by that night as usual, but instead of entering the room as Woohyun leaves, he waits at the threshold and looks expectantly at Key. Woohyun’s roommate has been fluttering around the dorm room for the past hour and a half, rushing from his closet to the bathroom again and again until it made Woohyun’s head hurt to watch him. When he asked what was going on, Key shot him down without even looking in his direction, readjusting his hair in front of the mirror he had on his desk.
Key grabs his phone from his bedside table and then, inexplicably, crosses the room to Woohyun and yanks him off of his bed. “Hey!” Woohyun sputters angrily, but he fails to pull his arm out of Key’s grasp as he is led to Key’s closet.
“My clothes will probably fit you properly in the chest, but your arms are a bit too thick compared to mine,” Key scowls, shuffling through the rack. He pulls out a black, vest-like top that he holds against Woohyun’s torso. “Try that.”
When Woohyun obediently pulls the vest over his black wifebeater, Key panics. “No, no! You can’t wear anything underneath.”
“But then it exposes too much!” Woohyun protests, shoving the vest back at him. They reject a few more outfits because of this reason, until Key wrestles off Woohyun’s wifebeater and, amid shouting and struggling, pulls a mesh t-shirt over his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Woohyun chokes out when he sees himself in the mirror.
“What’s the point of working out every day if no one sees those abs? You don’t even try to charm girls anymore,” Key reasons drily.
Woohyun lunges desperately for his sweatshirt, but Key intercepts him, flinging a leather jacket into his arms and dragging him first to the bathroom where Key seems to stab him in the eyes with an eyeliner pencil, then to where Jonghyun has been watching the entire thing with amusement. They ignore Woohyun’s almost hysterical protests as they take him with them down to the parking lots where Jonghyun’s car awaits. Woohyun hopes in desperation that the ever diligent RA will notice and come to rescue him, though the idea of Sunggyu seeing him in this shirt makes him want to keel over with embarrassment. Sunggyu must be at office hour though, because no one saves Woohyun from being stuffed into the backseat and spirited off to an unknown location.
The engine purrs quietly when Jonghyun pulls into a parking space in an area downtown that Woohyun has never been to before. Subdued, Woohyun trails behind them after Key foils yet another attempt to escape, huddled in the jacket and miserably cold because the wind keeps blowing through the shirt and chilling him to the bone. It’s just like Key to give him something with a broken zipper.
“You’ve taken me to a club?”
Key rolls his kohl-lined eyes, taking his wrist and pulling him to the front of the long line. “Where else would wearing flashy clothes like ours be appropriate?”
With an ease that astounds Woohyun, Key and Jonghyun pass by the bouncer at the front, taking him into a dim world punctuated with flashing lights and pulsing beats. The floor vibrates with the bass, which seems to have paced itself with Woohyun’s heartbeat. “What on earth...”
“Sunggyu has made you too tense and uptight,” Key tells him as he tugs him insistently forward towards the bar. “There’s no doubt he’s good for you, but I’m here to balance him out. You need to relax, and there’s nothing that dancing and drinking can’t make better. When was the last time you did something like this?”
“End of senior year of high school? I partied a lot then but not anymore,” Woohyun shrugs. His days now pass so quietly yet so comfortably that he doesn’t long for the excitement of crazy parties; looking back, everyone at those parties does something stupid that they’ll regret the next morning. He doesn’t need to be one of those people anymore.
Key gapes at the prospect of months and months of abstinence, then propels him forward even faster. Woohyun doesn’t know what Key orders for him, but once he takes a cautious sip, he has no doubt it’s the strongest thing they have. The drink burns on its way down his throat but sends tendrils of warmth through his chest that makes him take another gulp, then another and another until the bottom of the glass peers back at him. But when Key places another cup into his hands, he goes ahead and finishes it too, because the knots in his shoulders from sitting and studying all the time are loosening and he hasn’t felt this free in a very long time, not since he inhaled air that stung his insides the same way as the drink does and metal bit into his hands, cold and unfriendly. The bar brings the exact same feeling when he reaches out to steady himself, as well as the same feelings he had then. Now, once again, he’s free.
When Woohyun gets drunk, especially when he’s as trashed as he is now, he’s reckless and extremely clingy. He dances with (and on) countless people, both boys and girls, between several more drinks; even when his vision blurs and staying upright is a bit of an ordeal, he keeps going back for more. Not even the sight of Key wrapped up so tightly with Jonghyun in a dark corner that they’re one entity can shake him, not even when the hands of a stranger creep up his revealing shirt--the jacket is long gone; Key will probably kill him tomorrow because he has no idea where it is--and trail across his skin, nails scrapping across ever so slightly. He brushes them off with a confident smirk that completes the sensation of stepping back into his old skin. What was he thinking before? Clubbing is the best fucking thing ever.
The rest of the night, however, is a bit of a blur. His brain has stopped firing those nerve impulses properly for a long time, so after he grossly misjudges the distance and almost falls over his chair, nothing stops him from calling that first number on his speed dial, nothing stops him from slurring, “Gyugyu hyung, Woohyunnie loooves you~”
part two