[oneshot] terminal descent
Title: terminal descent
Pairing: one-sided junhwe/jinhwan, jinhwan/jimin
Rating: pg
Genre: slice-of-life, mild angst
Warnings: unrequited feelings
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: jinhwan gets married. junhwe writes a song. 1,802 words. written for the 2015 cycle of kpop_olymfics, for the prompt ailee's singing got better. originally posted here.
Jinhwan and Jimin get engaged during the first week of March, when the cherry blossoms are just beginning to bloom. For Junhwe, Bobby and Hanbin's lowkey Cold War over the best man position is entertaining for all of two minutes. Then the bottle of soy sauce goes flying, Yunhyeong's mom gives their table a startled glance from behind the counter, and Junhwe never wants to see either of them again. It isn't a new feeling.
It's also a pretty tall order, given that third album promotions are about to dip into full swing. Jinhwan's chosen to break the news at dinner after a long day of dance practice. Maybe he's hoping all the barbecue fumes will distract them. Junhwe catches a whiff of the bulgogi Chanwoo's grilling and almost lets it happen.
Jinhwan, after dropping the first bombshell, sucks on a dainty wedge of daikon radish before popping it into his mouth. "The wedding is set for the second Saturday of June." He clacks his chopsticks and swallows. "Clear your schedules," he continues, face creasing with his grin, as if the date wasn't conveniently tucked right after the tail end of music show appearances for the second comeback single and right before their next world tour. For a moment, no one says anything. The silence breaks when Yunhyeong reaches over the grill to clasp Jinhwan's hand and offer enthusiastic congratulations.
Bobby stops wrestling Hanbin into the throw pillow beneath his butt and asks, "It's me, right? I'm the best man?"
Hanbin pops up for air with a murderous glint in his eyes, forehead pink. Jinhwan gazes over carefully and clears his throat. "Can I make the counteroffer of co-best men?"
A flurry of discussion descends upon the table after this announcement. Junhwe takes advantage and piles half the bulgogi on his plate. Donghyuk, face shining with leftover sweat from practice and the bit of barbecue juice on his chin, leans over Junhwe to snag a piece of fish cake. "You're fine, right?" he asks, voice low under cover of sizzling meat and Bobby's loud, demanding so who gets to make the first toast? He looks at Junhwe, eyes sharp and searching. "You've been quiet."
Junhwe cracks a smile and hands Donghyuk a napkin. "Of course," he says, and if the corner of his mouth wobbles, Donghyuk doesn't bring it up. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Honestly, Junhwe's always liked Jimin. She's small, like a doll, and has a voice that reminds him of Jinhwan's, high and reedy. Jinhwan's always had a thing for rappers. Junhwe towered over her the first time they met, but then, after his last growth spurt finally shot him past Chanwoo (not only a personal victory but also one that involved Bobby having to pay him fifty-thousand won for losing the long-standing bet), he towered over pretty much everyone.
"Noona romance," Bobby said sagely, eyebrows waggling, when Jinhwan had finally admitted that they were dating, a couple of months before their second album came out. Seeing each other was the phrase Jinhwan had used, though Junhwe didn't think they actually had much time to see each other at all between staggered promotion schedules and international world tours.
Maybe that's why it had never seemed real. Junhwe had grown up a little by then. He was a twenty-two year-old singer with an image (and sanity) to maintain, and he just didn't have the time or the inclination to resent Jimin for eating into Jinhwan's limited free time. Jinhwan still spent 90% of all waking hours with his bandmates anyway, rehearsing, recording, running out for late night fried chicken that definitely didn't meet their diet, but was all the sweeter for it. He still adjusted Junhwe's stance during dance practice, a soft, tiny hand wrapping around the pulse in Junhwe's wrist to pull him into position. Still handed off half-finished Pocari Sweats during breaks, mouth shiny and wet in a way that made Junhwe want to kiss him, but never so much that he actually did it. For his part, Jinhwan seemed happy. That had always been enough.
Two weekends after the announcement, press conference, and subsequent media circus, they come back on Inkigayo. Junhwe feels the weight of the stage lights against his neck, a thick ring of heat slung over his shoulders, and moves back in position for the third take. Behind him, Hanbin barks something he can't really make out. Sounds like it could either be an entreaty for Yunhyeong to sing louder into the mike or something to do with Junhwe's big fat head blocking his view, but either way, Junhwe moves out of the way to sit at the side of the stage, on top of one of the speakers, the balls of his feet sore. The SBS cameraman makes his adjustments.
Jinhwan wanders over a moment later, blazer soaked through with sweat at the armpit. Junhwe can see the dark circles beneath his eyes, and reaches out to curl an index finger against the groove, ignores the loud squeal of the fangirls in the audience. "You okay, hyung?"
"Just tired," he says, wincing. "I really didn't think this whole planning-a-wedding-while-promoting thing through."
"As if Seiyeon-noona isn't doing everything for you, you liar," Junhwe returns, but there's no heat to the jab, and Jinhwan's whole body shudders into his laugh.
They stare up at the stage lights together, waiting for the cue. Then: "Hey," Jinhwan says, something in his voice. Hesitance, maybe, or apprehension. "I wanted to ask you something."
Junhwe glances over at him, the familiar cock of Jinhwan's head sinking like a leaden weight into his chest. "Yeah?" he manages.
"I want you to sing," he says. "At my wedding."
"Oh," Junhwe says.
"Yeah-it's-I mean. Just a simple performance, whatever you want. You can say no if you don't want to, but," and his eyes disappear, here. "Jimin would really love it if you agreed. And don't tell Yunhyeong or Donghyukkie that I said this, but you've always had the best voice out of all of us."
A token protest drops out of Junhwe's mouth, but it's futile. There's something thick in the back of his throat, on the tip of his tongue. Of course he agrees, because he's never been able to say no to Jinhwan, not when he's looking at him like that.
Junhwe isn't going to win Jinhwan's love with the power of his voice, or whatever. This isn't the kind of movie where the romantic lead suddenly realizes what he's been missing all along and drops everything to be with the love of his life. Anyway, Junhwe's the lead. This is his life, and he isn't going to do any favors by being selfish. But still-it's hard not to try. Junhwe's always loved stories about insurmountable odds and unlikely triumphs, and he's always liked putting on a show, so he spends all his free time for the next two months in and out of the studio with Donghyuk.
"I think you just have to choose the right song," Donghyuk says blandly during their first session, and Junhwe regrets asking for his help already. "Maybe you can write one," he continues, which. Yeah. That actually isn't a terrible suggestion.
There's a ballad in the back of one of his old notebooks that he's been tinkering with for years. No lyrics, but it's easy enough to recreate the first strains of melody on the computer. It isn't really IKON material (not enough rap, too many orchestral influences), so Junhwe has never brought it up during album brainstorming sessions, but it fits now, for his purposes.
Junhwe spends so many late nights cuddling his laptop that even Hanbin starts sending him vaguely constipated looks of concern. The first draft of lyrics is too honest. The second one is too generic, and so on and so forth. "It's never going to be perfect," Donghyuk says, a week out from the wedding, walking into Junhwe's room at three in the morning and glancing down at the crumpled paper littered around his desk.
"I know," Junhwe says, so tired the roof of his mouth aches. "But I still gotta try."
The wedding's in Jeju, which means they fly down two days before the ceremony to leave room for a bachelor's party down at the beach that involves too much alcohol and way too much shirtless Bobby. Jinhwan spends the whole night smiling in varying degrees of sobriety and gladhanding the half of YG Entertainment present. Seungri tries to do a keg stand and nearly throws his back.
"Ready for tomorrow?" Jinwoo asks, rubbing Jinhwan's narrow shoulders.
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready," Jinhwan says, laughing, head tossed back to reveal the pale column of his throat.
Junhwe has to down two shots of soju and look away.
"Thank you for agreeing to sing," Jinhwan says later, when they're sitting out on the sand watching Donghyuk push Chanwoo into the receding surf. Hanbin and Bobby are still halfway across the beach, trying to pin the dick on the anatomically accurate drawing that Minho had provided. "I wasn't sure if you would."
Junhwe's throat feels thick again, this time with all the things he's never had the courage to say. It pushes at his mouth, a desperate, last ditch attempt to-do what, exactly? Jinhwan made his choice a long time ago. There's no possible outcome of this scenario where Junhwe gets out unscathed. He doesn't say anything. Just reaches out to clasp a hand around Junhwe's thin wrist. His engagement ring winks up, over-bright in the darkness.
Jinhwan looks over, then, eyes too sharp. His small mouth pinches even smaller. "Hey," he says, and he doesn't sound pitying. Junhwe's thankful; it would've only hurt more. "I know. I think-I've always known. And I'm sorry."
It isn't heartbreaking, really. Junhwe just feels weary, bone-deep, the kind of exhaustion that spans across years, like breaking your body for the mere chance at a career. And isn't love work, too? This is what happens when you've loved someone for so long that it just becomes a part of you. This is what it feels like to hit a locked door face first, when something ends before it even had a chance to begin.
Junhwe turns Jinhwan's hand over in his. Traces a finger across the lines in his palm, listens to Jinhwan's even breathing.
"I'll live, hyung," he says, and lets go.
Saturday mornings in Jeju are beautiful in the summer, sunny and salty and warm. A gentle breeze rustles through the chairs set up on the beach. Jinhwan's in a cream-colored suit and Jimin's wedding train trails into the sand. There are little flowers threaded through her hair. Junhwe doesn't think they've ever looked better.
At the piano, he opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and begins to sing.
Pairing: one-sided junhwe/jinhwan, jinhwan/jimin
Rating: pg
Genre: slice-of-life, mild angst
Warnings: unrequited feelings
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: jinhwan gets married. junhwe writes a song. 1,802 words. written for the 2015 cycle of kpop_olymfics, for the prompt ailee's singing got better. originally posted here.
Jinhwan and Jimin get engaged during the first week of March, when the cherry blossoms are just beginning to bloom. For Junhwe, Bobby and Hanbin's lowkey Cold War over the best man position is entertaining for all of two minutes. Then the bottle of soy sauce goes flying, Yunhyeong's mom gives their table a startled glance from behind the counter, and Junhwe never wants to see either of them again. It isn't a new feeling.
It's also a pretty tall order, given that third album promotions are about to dip into full swing. Jinhwan's chosen to break the news at dinner after a long day of dance practice. Maybe he's hoping all the barbecue fumes will distract them. Junhwe catches a whiff of the bulgogi Chanwoo's grilling and almost lets it happen.
Jinhwan, after dropping the first bombshell, sucks on a dainty wedge of daikon radish before popping it into his mouth. "The wedding is set for the second Saturday of June." He clacks his chopsticks and swallows. "Clear your schedules," he continues, face creasing with his grin, as if the date wasn't conveniently tucked right after the tail end of music show appearances for the second comeback single and right before their next world tour. For a moment, no one says anything. The silence breaks when Yunhyeong reaches over the grill to clasp Jinhwan's hand and offer enthusiastic congratulations.
Bobby stops wrestling Hanbin into the throw pillow beneath his butt and asks, "It's me, right? I'm the best man?"
Hanbin pops up for air with a murderous glint in his eyes, forehead pink. Jinhwan gazes over carefully and clears his throat. "Can I make the counteroffer of co-best men?"
A flurry of discussion descends upon the table after this announcement. Junhwe takes advantage and piles half the bulgogi on his plate. Donghyuk, face shining with leftover sweat from practice and the bit of barbecue juice on his chin, leans over Junhwe to snag a piece of fish cake. "You're fine, right?" he asks, voice low under cover of sizzling meat and Bobby's loud, demanding so who gets to make the first toast? He looks at Junhwe, eyes sharp and searching. "You've been quiet."
Junhwe cracks a smile and hands Donghyuk a napkin. "Of course," he says, and if the corner of his mouth wobbles, Donghyuk doesn't bring it up. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Honestly, Junhwe's always liked Jimin. She's small, like a doll, and has a voice that reminds him of Jinhwan's, high and reedy. Jinhwan's always had a thing for rappers. Junhwe towered over her the first time they met, but then, after his last growth spurt finally shot him past Chanwoo (not only a personal victory but also one that involved Bobby having to pay him fifty-thousand won for losing the long-standing bet), he towered over pretty much everyone.
"Noona romance," Bobby said sagely, eyebrows waggling, when Jinhwan had finally admitted that they were dating, a couple of months before their second album came out. Seeing each other was the phrase Jinhwan had used, though Junhwe didn't think they actually had much time to see each other at all between staggered promotion schedules and international world tours.
Maybe that's why it had never seemed real. Junhwe had grown up a little by then. He was a twenty-two year-old singer with an image (and sanity) to maintain, and he just didn't have the time or the inclination to resent Jimin for eating into Jinhwan's limited free time. Jinhwan still spent 90% of all waking hours with his bandmates anyway, rehearsing, recording, running out for late night fried chicken that definitely didn't meet their diet, but was all the sweeter for it. He still adjusted Junhwe's stance during dance practice, a soft, tiny hand wrapping around the pulse in Junhwe's wrist to pull him into position. Still handed off half-finished Pocari Sweats during breaks, mouth shiny and wet in a way that made Junhwe want to kiss him, but never so much that he actually did it. For his part, Jinhwan seemed happy. That had always been enough.
Two weekends after the announcement, press conference, and subsequent media circus, they come back on Inkigayo. Junhwe feels the weight of the stage lights against his neck, a thick ring of heat slung over his shoulders, and moves back in position for the third take. Behind him, Hanbin barks something he can't really make out. Sounds like it could either be an entreaty for Yunhyeong to sing louder into the mike or something to do with Junhwe's big fat head blocking his view, but either way, Junhwe moves out of the way to sit at the side of the stage, on top of one of the speakers, the balls of his feet sore. The SBS cameraman makes his adjustments.
Jinhwan wanders over a moment later, blazer soaked through with sweat at the armpit. Junhwe can see the dark circles beneath his eyes, and reaches out to curl an index finger against the groove, ignores the loud squeal of the fangirls in the audience. "You okay, hyung?"
"Just tired," he says, wincing. "I really didn't think this whole planning-a-wedding-while-promoting thing through."
"As if Seiyeon-noona isn't doing everything for you, you liar," Junhwe returns, but there's no heat to the jab, and Jinhwan's whole body shudders into his laugh.
They stare up at the stage lights together, waiting for the cue. Then: "Hey," Jinhwan says, something in his voice. Hesitance, maybe, or apprehension. "I wanted to ask you something."
Junhwe glances over at him, the familiar cock of Jinhwan's head sinking like a leaden weight into his chest. "Yeah?" he manages.
"I want you to sing," he says. "At my wedding."
"Oh," Junhwe says.
"Yeah-it's-I mean. Just a simple performance, whatever you want. You can say no if you don't want to, but," and his eyes disappear, here. "Jimin would really love it if you agreed. And don't tell Yunhyeong or Donghyukkie that I said this, but you've always had the best voice out of all of us."
A token protest drops out of Junhwe's mouth, but it's futile. There's something thick in the back of his throat, on the tip of his tongue. Of course he agrees, because he's never been able to say no to Jinhwan, not when he's looking at him like that.
Junhwe isn't going to win Jinhwan's love with the power of his voice, or whatever. This isn't the kind of movie where the romantic lead suddenly realizes what he's been missing all along and drops everything to be with the love of his life. Anyway, Junhwe's the lead. This is his life, and he isn't going to do any favors by being selfish. But still-it's hard not to try. Junhwe's always loved stories about insurmountable odds and unlikely triumphs, and he's always liked putting on a show, so he spends all his free time for the next two months in and out of the studio with Donghyuk.
"I think you just have to choose the right song," Donghyuk says blandly during their first session, and Junhwe regrets asking for his help already. "Maybe you can write one," he continues, which. Yeah. That actually isn't a terrible suggestion.
There's a ballad in the back of one of his old notebooks that he's been tinkering with for years. No lyrics, but it's easy enough to recreate the first strains of melody on the computer. It isn't really IKON material (not enough rap, too many orchestral influences), so Junhwe has never brought it up during album brainstorming sessions, but it fits now, for his purposes.
Junhwe spends so many late nights cuddling his laptop that even Hanbin starts sending him vaguely constipated looks of concern. The first draft of lyrics is too honest. The second one is too generic, and so on and so forth. "It's never going to be perfect," Donghyuk says, a week out from the wedding, walking into Junhwe's room at three in the morning and glancing down at the crumpled paper littered around his desk.
"I know," Junhwe says, so tired the roof of his mouth aches. "But I still gotta try."
The wedding's in Jeju, which means they fly down two days before the ceremony to leave room for a bachelor's party down at the beach that involves too much alcohol and way too much shirtless Bobby. Jinhwan spends the whole night smiling in varying degrees of sobriety and gladhanding the half of YG Entertainment present. Seungri tries to do a keg stand and nearly throws his back.
"Ready for tomorrow?" Jinwoo asks, rubbing Jinhwan's narrow shoulders.
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready," Jinhwan says, laughing, head tossed back to reveal the pale column of his throat.
Junhwe has to down two shots of soju and look away.
"Thank you for agreeing to sing," Jinhwan says later, when they're sitting out on the sand watching Donghyuk push Chanwoo into the receding surf. Hanbin and Bobby are still halfway across the beach, trying to pin the dick on the anatomically accurate drawing that Minho had provided. "I wasn't sure if you would."
Junhwe's throat feels thick again, this time with all the things he's never had the courage to say. It pushes at his mouth, a desperate, last ditch attempt to-do what, exactly? Jinhwan made his choice a long time ago. There's no possible outcome of this scenario where Junhwe gets out unscathed. He doesn't say anything. Just reaches out to clasp a hand around Junhwe's thin wrist. His engagement ring winks up, over-bright in the darkness.
Jinhwan looks over, then, eyes too sharp. His small mouth pinches even smaller. "Hey," he says, and he doesn't sound pitying. Junhwe's thankful; it would've only hurt more. "I know. I think-I've always known. And I'm sorry."
It isn't heartbreaking, really. Junhwe just feels weary, bone-deep, the kind of exhaustion that spans across years, like breaking your body for the mere chance at a career. And isn't love work, too? This is what happens when you've loved someone for so long that it just becomes a part of you. This is what it feels like to hit a locked door face first, when something ends before it even had a chance to begin.
Junhwe turns Jinhwan's hand over in his. Traces a finger across the lines in his palm, listens to Jinhwan's even breathing.
"I'll live, hyung," he says, and lets go.
Saturday mornings in Jeju are beautiful in the summer, sunny and salty and warm. A gentle breeze rustles through the chairs set up on the beach. Jinhwan's in a cream-colored suit and Jimin's wedding train trails into the sand. There are little flowers threaded through her hair. Junhwe doesn't think they've ever looked better.
At the piano, he opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and begins to sing.