I Beg of You
Title: I Beg of You
Pairing: J-Hope/Jungkook
Rating: PG-15
Words: 1468
Prompt: Haze
A/N: Part of the 30 Day Drabble Challenge. I might make a continuation for this, but I don't know. I like the idea of Jeongguk struggling in life, and Hoseok being having mommy-issues. Please enjoy this little drabble of mine~
haze1
/heɪz/
a state of mental confusion.
"an alcoholic haze"
Hoseok steps on the pavement with slug steps, tripping over the smallest creases and cracks in the abused stone. His eyebrows crinkle into a fine line as he concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, but it's hard after three bottles of soju. He should have stopped after the third shot, but the look on his coworkers' faces made him feel like he was a pussy for not drinking. Namjoon should pay for his cab ride home, rhetorically.
He can hear his mother's nagging voice in his ear, telling him that he's no good as a son, no good as a man, no good as a solidity in life. The scratchy voice from years of yelling at three kids seem to echo horribly in his red ears, telling him he's never getting married, never going to be good enough for any girl out there. "Well guess what ma, I'm fucking gay!" he screams into the empty street, his entire body open to whomever dares to listen. These confessions he spills are the type to keep in, in the closet as many says, but for fucks sake, he's a grown man, a man who doesn't need to fulfill his mother's futile wishes. He stumbles forward again, reality hitting him like an early train. He can't tell his mother those things, she'd disown him, make him feel worse than he already does. Saying things like 'Where have I gone wrong?' 'Why can't you be more like your hyung?' 'You need to go to church'. Hoseok doesn't want to hear those things. He doesn't want to be compared to other, most especially his fancy, high end Seokjin hyung. If only his mother actually knew what Seokjin was, saw him for what he really was, she wouldn't speak so highly of him. But.....it's not Hoseok's secrets too tell. They'll just backfire on him and he'll have to pay for opening his mouth.
So Hoseok walks, down the road, down the pavement, to somewhere he doesn't know, and waits for some higher being to finally take him and put him out of his misery. He has half the mind to step out in front of the next car, but he can barely move forward, much less walk onto the street quickly enough. So he walks, walks until he comes to a neighborhood he doesn't recognize. His hazy eyes tell him only that it's dark and horrible and trashed, like the bad end of town. He shouldn't be here, his mind tells him, but he can't go back to the bar. There's no one out, save for the boy who sits on a broken brick wall. Hoseok walks up to him.
"Do you know where I can get a ride?" he's sure he's slurring his words, but he hopes the young boy understands. He's good looking, Hoseok notes, and smiles creepily at the boy. A long arm comes up to point behind him, and Hoseok turns around to see the other side of the street. There's nothing but a florescent sign he can't make out.
"380 by the hour," the boy says slowly, and Hoseok turns around to look at him through squinted eyes. "But I'll take you for 320."
"Expensive," Hoseok mumbles, but fishes out his wallet to check for his remaining bills. He hopes Namjoon hasn't stolen anything from him, not like last time when Hoseok found himself leaving the bar completely empty handed. He fishes out eight yellow bills, and turns to look up at the boy again. "You got change?"
"Yeah." He hops off the brick wall with elegance, and slides past Hoseok to the other side of the street. Hoseok follows him, stuffing the old wallet back into his pocket. The florescent light shines brightly above their heads, but it's still too much of a blur for Hoseok to see, but the young boy passes it, and heads to the next building instead. In front stands a taxi with the driver sleeping on the steering wheal inside. The boy knocks hard on the windshield, and the cabdriver wakes to life with a confused shock. "Got a client," the young boy says, and the driver looks at Hoseok with an open mouth before nodding. The boy then holds the back door open, waiting for Hoseok to step forward. But to his surprise, the boy steps in as well, scooting over to the other side. No gears turn in Hoseok's head for this to register properly, so he sits in the car with a clumsy thud.
"Where to, sir?" the cab driver asks, and Hoseok has to think for a while to remember his address. Eventually he mumbles coordinates he hopes are right. The ride through three am Seoul isn't long, no matter where you come from and where you're heading. Hoseok simply leans against the cool window and hastily follows the moving lights, all the signs and all the bars still open and full of life. Hoseok wishes he was full of life.
The cab abruptly stops without Hoseok knowing, and the boy has to tap him on the shoulder for him to realize. Hoseok doesn't know who or how the cab is payed, but seconds later the vehicle is gone.
"What floor?" the boy speaks up as Hoseok struggles to open the front door up.
"Fourth," he mumbles with a grunt when the door finally gives way. It's nice inside the lobby, but way too bright for his liking. But here Hoseok can see the boy much clearer, and can see how his hair is swept to the side like a teenagers, how his eyes have harsh bags under them, how his cheeks are hollowed from malnutrition. Then Hoseok realizes he doesn't know his name. "Who are you?" he squints at him in the elevator. The boy doesn't spare a glance, not even in the mirrors.
"Jeongguk," he says with a finality.
"Ah. Hoseok," he introduces, and Jeongguk only nods. There's a ping that echoes loudly through the small elevator, and the doors open to reveal Hoseok's flat. Jeongguk walks in quickly like he's been here thousands of times before, and Hoseok furrows his brows. He's still too intoxicated to make of this situation and decides to roll with it instead. "Would you like something to drink?" Hoseok says, but the boy doesn't respond. Instead, he heads to the open living room and takes a look around. Hoseok simply watches.
"Nice place."
"Thanks. It's not really anything." Hoseok moves forward, two glasses of cold, perspiring water in his hands. He can walk without spilling it now, but the minds still fuzzy. He gives one to Jeongguk, who quickly puts it on the table instead. To the left is the bed, and Jeongguk seems to have taken an interest in it. He slowly walks over there, a certain suave in his steps that make Hoseok's eyes linger. What the boy does next surprises Hoseok - he unbuttons his plaid shirt, and drops it to the ground, then his pants come off quickly until he's standing in only his black underwear. Hoseok's brows furrow even more. "What are you doing?"
"You've paid for my services, what do you think?" Jeongguk says with no emotion, and walks to Hoseok again. The glass in his hands is fished out and placed next to the other one on the table, and then the next thing Hoseok knows is that he's on the bed with his polo shirt ripped open.
"You're just a ki-" he's quickly muffled by coarse lips pressed against his, eating his words into oblivion. It seems so needy, so desperate, so forced, but Hoseok's clouded mind can't help the impulse to kiss back. He melts into it, far too much than what is considered normal, and savers the bitter taste of beer and soju mixed with the light feathery splashes of Jeongguk's saliva. The boy pulls away with a teasing bite to Hoseok's bottom lip, a content groan escaping the latter.
"I need the money," Jeongguk says, no pleads with something so desperate Hoseok can feel shivers up his back, and he nods with a hard swallow. He's wide awake, but taken aback from a kiss like that.
Jeongguk hastily reattaches their lips, leaving it closed mouthed and slow as his body climbs up the bed to hover over Hoseok, each leg straddled over him. Hoseok finds himself forgetting how to breath, and pulls away from the boy, but he takes it as another opportunity. Hoseok's pants are ardently pulled down, over his feet and dumped onto the floor along with his socks and shoes. He doesn't even have a moment to say anything and watches with a conflicted look in his eyes. How many times has this boy done this exactly? But all other questions his mind throws him are forgotten once Jeongguk's lips are on his again, desperate and quivering but sure with need.
Pairing: J-Hope/Jungkook
Rating: PG-15
Words: 1468
Prompt: Haze
A/N: Part of the 30 Day Drabble Challenge. I might make a continuation for this, but I don't know. I like the idea of Jeongguk struggling in life, and Hoseok being having mommy-issues. Please enjoy this little drabble of mine~
haze1
/heɪz/
a state of mental confusion.
"an alcoholic haze"
Hoseok steps on the pavement with slug steps, tripping over the smallest creases and cracks in the abused stone. His eyebrows crinkle into a fine line as he concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, but it's hard after three bottles of soju. He should have stopped after the third shot, but the look on his coworkers' faces made him feel like he was a pussy for not drinking. Namjoon should pay for his cab ride home, rhetorically.
He can hear his mother's nagging voice in his ear, telling him that he's no good as a son, no good as a man, no good as a solidity in life. The scratchy voice from years of yelling at three kids seem to echo horribly in his red ears, telling him he's never getting married, never going to be good enough for any girl out there. "Well guess what ma, I'm fucking gay!" he screams into the empty street, his entire body open to whomever dares to listen. These confessions he spills are the type to keep in, in the closet as many says, but for fucks sake, he's a grown man, a man who doesn't need to fulfill his mother's futile wishes. He stumbles forward again, reality hitting him like an early train. He can't tell his mother those things, she'd disown him, make him feel worse than he already does. Saying things like 'Where have I gone wrong?' 'Why can't you be more like your hyung?' 'You need to go to church'. Hoseok doesn't want to hear those things. He doesn't want to be compared to other, most especially his fancy, high end Seokjin hyung. If only his mother actually knew what Seokjin was, saw him for what he really was, she wouldn't speak so highly of him. But.....it's not Hoseok's secrets too tell. They'll just backfire on him and he'll have to pay for opening his mouth.
So Hoseok walks, down the road, down the pavement, to somewhere he doesn't know, and waits for some higher being to finally take him and put him out of his misery. He has half the mind to step out in front of the next car, but he can barely move forward, much less walk onto the street quickly enough. So he walks, walks until he comes to a neighborhood he doesn't recognize. His hazy eyes tell him only that it's dark and horrible and trashed, like the bad end of town. He shouldn't be here, his mind tells him, but he can't go back to the bar. There's no one out, save for the boy who sits on a broken brick wall. Hoseok walks up to him.
"Do you know where I can get a ride?" he's sure he's slurring his words, but he hopes the young boy understands. He's good looking, Hoseok notes, and smiles creepily at the boy. A long arm comes up to point behind him, and Hoseok turns around to see the other side of the street. There's nothing but a florescent sign he can't make out.
"380 by the hour," the boy says slowly, and Hoseok turns around to look at him through squinted eyes. "But I'll take you for 320."
"Expensive," Hoseok mumbles, but fishes out his wallet to check for his remaining bills. He hopes Namjoon hasn't stolen anything from him, not like last time when Hoseok found himself leaving the bar completely empty handed. He fishes out eight yellow bills, and turns to look up at the boy again. "You got change?"
"Yeah." He hops off the brick wall with elegance, and slides past Hoseok to the other side of the street. Hoseok follows him, stuffing the old wallet back into his pocket. The florescent light shines brightly above their heads, but it's still too much of a blur for Hoseok to see, but the young boy passes it, and heads to the next building instead. In front stands a taxi with the driver sleeping on the steering wheal inside. The boy knocks hard on the windshield, and the cabdriver wakes to life with a confused shock. "Got a client," the young boy says, and the driver looks at Hoseok with an open mouth before nodding. The boy then holds the back door open, waiting for Hoseok to step forward. But to his surprise, the boy steps in as well, scooting over to the other side. No gears turn in Hoseok's head for this to register properly, so he sits in the car with a clumsy thud.
"Where to, sir?" the cab driver asks, and Hoseok has to think for a while to remember his address. Eventually he mumbles coordinates he hopes are right. The ride through three am Seoul isn't long, no matter where you come from and where you're heading. Hoseok simply leans against the cool window and hastily follows the moving lights, all the signs and all the bars still open and full of life. Hoseok wishes he was full of life.
The cab abruptly stops without Hoseok knowing, and the boy has to tap him on the shoulder for him to realize. Hoseok doesn't know who or how the cab is payed, but seconds later the vehicle is gone.
"What floor?" the boy speaks up as Hoseok struggles to open the front door up.
"Fourth," he mumbles with a grunt when the door finally gives way. It's nice inside the lobby, but way too bright for his liking. But here Hoseok can see the boy much clearer, and can see how his hair is swept to the side like a teenagers, how his eyes have harsh bags under them, how his cheeks are hollowed from malnutrition. Then Hoseok realizes he doesn't know his name. "Who are you?" he squints at him in the elevator. The boy doesn't spare a glance, not even in the mirrors.
"Jeongguk," he says with a finality.
"Ah. Hoseok," he introduces, and Jeongguk only nods. There's a ping that echoes loudly through the small elevator, and the doors open to reveal Hoseok's flat. Jeongguk walks in quickly like he's been here thousands of times before, and Hoseok furrows his brows. He's still too intoxicated to make of this situation and decides to roll with it instead. "Would you like something to drink?" Hoseok says, but the boy doesn't respond. Instead, he heads to the open living room and takes a look around. Hoseok simply watches.
"Nice place."
"Thanks. It's not really anything." Hoseok moves forward, two glasses of cold, perspiring water in his hands. He can walk without spilling it now, but the minds still fuzzy. He gives one to Jeongguk, who quickly puts it on the table instead. To the left is the bed, and Jeongguk seems to have taken an interest in it. He slowly walks over there, a certain suave in his steps that make Hoseok's eyes linger. What the boy does next surprises Hoseok - he unbuttons his plaid shirt, and drops it to the ground, then his pants come off quickly until he's standing in only his black underwear. Hoseok's brows furrow even more. "What are you doing?"
"You've paid for my services, what do you think?" Jeongguk says with no emotion, and walks to Hoseok again. The glass in his hands is fished out and placed next to the other one on the table, and then the next thing Hoseok knows is that he's on the bed with his polo shirt ripped open.
"You're just a ki-" he's quickly muffled by coarse lips pressed against his, eating his words into oblivion. It seems so needy, so desperate, so forced, but Hoseok's clouded mind can't help the impulse to kiss back. He melts into it, far too much than what is considered normal, and savers the bitter taste of beer and soju mixed with the light feathery splashes of Jeongguk's saliva. The boy pulls away with a teasing bite to Hoseok's bottom lip, a content groan escaping the latter.
"I need the money," Jeongguk says, no pleads with something so desperate Hoseok can feel shivers up his back, and he nods with a hard swallow. He's wide awake, but taken aback from a kiss like that.
Jeongguk hastily reattaches their lips, leaving it closed mouthed and slow as his body climbs up the bed to hover over Hoseok, each leg straddled over him. Hoseok finds himself forgetting how to breath, and pulls away from the boy, but he takes it as another opportunity. Hoseok's pants are ardently pulled down, over his feet and dumped onto the floor along with his socks and shoes. He doesn't even have a moment to say anything and watches with a conflicted look in his eyes. How many times has this boy done this exactly? But all other questions his mind throws him are forgotten once Jeongguk's lips are on his again, desperate and quivering but sure with need.