(no subject)
snapshots .o3
seungri/jiyong ; jiyong/seungri ; seunghyun/seungri. pg.
more drabbles. never enough attention span for anything more.
SNAPSHOTS .O3
let me hold you in my heart
i. big bang : seungri/jiyong.
prompt : owl city ; this is the future
seungri stares into the empty city, skeletal buildings reaching out towards the dying sky like an offering for a forgotten god. he thinks about screaming, about running and running and running until he's out of breath. his worn sneakers streaked with mud and dried blood, hitting asphalt of roads that go nowhere.
"we should get going," jiyong says, looks over their shoulders with a pinched look he's developed after youngbae doesn't come home one morning. he curls his fingers around seungri's wrist in a bruising grip and tugs. "c'mon."
seungri blinks. he doesn't move. he pulls jiyong back instead, wraps his arms around jiyong too-thin waist and he's almost glad for a world that has grown quiet enough that he can hold jiyong without being reprimanded. "i don't think i can do this anymore."
jiyong stiffens, his spine a line so rigid it threatens to break under seungri's fingertips. "we don't have a choice."
"i want to live, hyung."
the wind whistles warnings into their ears, sharp and stinging. the prophecy of an incoming storm. jiyong untangles seungri's arms and takes a step back. "that's what i'm doing. trying to keep us alive."
seungri shakes his head and reaches out for jiyong again. "no. this is surviving. i want to live."
"seungri, i don't-"
"i love you, jiyong-hyung." seungri tilts his head and squints at the radioactive sky, at whatever is left of the sun. he hears the crunch of gravel under jiyong's feet as jiyong walks away. "i love you."
END
ii. big bang : jiyong/seungri.
prompt : duffy ; rain on your parade
"come back to me."
seungri pulls a shirt over his head, doesn't notice if it's his (or seunghyun-hyung's, who walks out as soon as jiyong walks in). because jiyong is watching with that wounded look in his eyes, sharp and accusatory and a little more tired each time they go through this motion. like seungri is the one who breaks hearts and jiyong is the heartbroken little doll.
they all have their selfish reasons. seungri doesn't really care for jiyong's.
"goodbye, hyung."
END
iii. big bang : seunghyun/seungri.
prompt :
you don’t bring seungri to these kind of places often. because his shoulder will stiffen once he walks through that entrance, his face a careful blank of arranged sophistication good enough to fool the maitre d’. seungri might wear armani and gucci and the arrogance of a blue blood like a second skin, but you’ve known about the little boy from gwangju. who danced his way to seoul, dreamt of stagelights and a crowd. only to find reality in the form of a 9-5 desk job.
you remember seungri’s corner office at the real estate firm. a desk job he’s incredibly gifted at, your mind amends.
you’re shown a table at the back of the restaurant and the menu reads in looping longhand, more aesthetic than practical. your waitress smiles prettily, blond curls over her black-and-white uniform and seungri blinks at you after a minute. waiting. you smile. you wave the waitress away and she acquiesces with a nod.
seungri raises an eyebrow.
“congratulations,” you say. he blinks again, that nervous habit he never quite fix, and you grin. “on your promotion.”
“oh. that.” he laughs and his lips quirk into a lop-sided smile, the beginning of a flush high on his cheeks. “thanks. didn’t really expect it any other way.”
“i thought we should get a fancy dinner to celebrate.”
the waitress appears at your signal, the bottle of red wine poised in her hands (you ordered one from seungri’s birth year, just because). she pours for both of you and retreats again, well-versed in the art of silence. seungri picks up his glass by its stem and swirls the dark liquid with a contemplative frown, and you watch him watch you over the rim of the glass. the restaurant is cast in a soft, yellow glow from a chandelier overhead, with tasteful décor to match. it’s expensive. it’s what to be expected for a celebration between successful professionals.
you think it’s a picture painted with all the wrong colours.
seungri tilts his head to a side, the wine glass fixed between the curls of his fingers. “what are you thinking about?”
“ice cream.”
his eyes light up in surprise and you want to laugh. reach across the table and pull him into a kiss, because you can and you know he won’t stop you. you don’t and his surprise turns into mischief. “right now?”
“yeah,” you say. you return his grin with one of your own. “now sounds good.”
he twirls the glass again. “what about our fancy dinner?”
“we’ll ask for chocolate syrup and extra sprinkles on our ice cream.”
you watch him throw his head back and laugh, loud and carefree and so very young. and you know at that moment you’re in love. as simple as memorising the colours of your tiny bears. you stumble out of the restaurant with your arm over his shoulder and his hand around your waist, close enough that you can smell your cologne on his skin. you slip your fingers into the open neck of his shirt and feel him shiver at your touch, the jump of his muscle under your fingertips.
“you know…”
“hm?”
seungri looks at you and smiles, slow and shy and perfect. “i like ice cream better anyway.”
“good.” you pull him closer. “good.”
END