[infinite] o58. ignition; dongwoo/hoya; pg-13
Title: Ignition
Pairing: Dongwoo/Hoya
Rating: PG-13; Warning: character death
Summary: The best dancer in Busan finds his position threatened by a Gyeonggi boy with too many teeth. o58. of the 100 infinite fic challenge.
Word Count: ~2,800
ig·ni·tion (n)
1. the action of setting something on fire or starting to burn.
2. lee howon, jang dongwoo, and dance
People say that Lee Howon’s the best dancer in Busan.
“He’s amazing,” the voices echo, “best I’ve ever seen. I wish I could dance like him.”
His dancing is powerful, and he hits all the beats precisely. His choreography is always on point. He wins battles with a swoop of his hand, competitions with a slide of his feet, and praises from flocks of teenage girls who follow him around like he’s a superstar.
It’s been this way for a little over a year. Ever since he began entering competitions with his crew, their fame in the underground dance scene had exploded. His crew was great, but he was exceptional.
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Sunggyu would always nag, but Howon ignored his wise words of warning.
Howon finds himself basking in the limelight, finds himself much too proud of himself, and ignores the little nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that one day someone bigger and better will come and snatch it all away.
That day comes faster than Howon anticipates.
It’s a shock. There he is, doing what he always does, sharp hits, smooth turns, following the feel of the music with his expressions, licking his lips and smirking at times to show his confidence, and the people cheer and wave their hands up and down as usual.
No one challenges him-they just accept, falling into the usual routine, and Howon smirks, over-confident.
He’s about to be crowned the winner, when this boy steps up out of nowhere.
“Can I battle too?” the boy asks, and the onlookers start to whisper. The boy is strange looking. He has slightly too many teeth for his face, and his lips are much too upturned for him to be called conventionally handsome, but Howon can sense the dancer’s aura around him.
For the first time in a long time, Howon's intimidated.
He stares at the boy, as the DJ turns up the music, and the boy starts to dance.
He starts off simple. He slides across the floor, does a few arm waves, an out of place twist-o-flex. They're basic foundation moves that anyone can do, and Howon starts to feel relief when the onlookers start to jeer and hiss at the boy. The boy pays no attention to them, continuing to dance.
Suddenly, the music changes in tempo to something faster-and that’s when Howon knows he’s been completely defeated.
The boy is phenomenal. His limbs move with the graceful fluidity that Howon could never achieve, and his moves are clean, smooth and flowing unlike the sharpness Howon retains in his choreography. The way his body moves is just so natural, and the onlookers’ jeers turn into cheers, waving their hands wildly. Howon is mesmerised by the ease the boy throws his hands around and glides across the rough concrete.
The song ends. The boy lands in a finish pose, breathing heavily, and he’s swarmed by dancers left, right, and centre. The girls standing behind Howon rush over and join the crowd, leaving Howon alone with Sunggyu and Woohyun, who just pat him on the back.
Howon grimaces, heart sinking. He leaves before anyone can say anything to him.
His name is Jang Dongwoo, Howon finds out unintentionally, eavesdropping on a conversation between Woohyun and Sunggyu. A Gyeonggi kid who just moved to Busan.
And from what he heard through the door, Dongwoo is one of a kind. If Howon immersed himself in dance every minute of his life, this boy lives and breathes dance.
“He’s a bit thick in the brain,” he hears Woohyun explain, “but he sure as hell picks up dance moves fast.”
Howon finds himself much too aware of his own faults-he scrambles to shut that part of his brain off, but the little voice in his head taunts him repeatedly with I told you so’s and you’re over’s. Howon’s dancing is stiff and practised, but Dongwoo possesses naturalness to his moves that Howon can’t replicate, no matter how much he tries.
Sunggyu just looks at Howon mournfully and fetches the first aid kit when Howon can’t take it anymore and punches the concrete pillar in the practise room, blood streaming down from his knuckles.
A week after news of Howon’s loss, the whole dance scene knows Jang Dongwoo’s name.
“Howon’s losing his touch,” someone says.
“He was never as great as he thought,” whispers another.
It continues like that, a vicious cycle of biting comments behind his back, and it’s driving him crazy.
Howon wants to block his ears and shut his eyes, but the throng of supporters leaving him to cheer for the new dancer in town is something he can’t avoid. He’s consumed with a vicious petty jealousy. He hasn’t even spoken a word to his crew about the boy-much less to the boy-but he wishes that Dongwoo would just disappear off the face of the earth.
“Hello, Howon. Miss me?” A voice cuts through his thoughts, and Howon turns around, startled.
“Myungsoo,” he chokes out, “what the hell are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” Myungsoo takes a drag of his cigarette, then throws the butt to the ground and crushes it under his feet. “I heard you lost.”
Howon grimaces. “That’s besides the point. What the hell man, you can’t just show up here after you threw that competition and disappeared for a year. Sunggyu will kill you.”
Myungsoo chuckles darkly. “He wouldn’t dare.” He walks past Howon to the window of the dance studio, leaning against the sill. “So. Jang Dongwoo?”
Howon glares at him, uneasy. “What about him?”
Myungsoo smirks knowingly. “I know you’re jealous. You want to get rid of him.”
“No I don’t,” Howon lies, fidgeting. “This is my business. I want you to stay out of this.”
“Stop lying. You’re pathetic,” Myungsoo drawls, and Howon flinches. “And it’s not just for you. I don’t want him on Busan turf anyway. He might bring his crew over, and then you’ll be finished.”
Howon sighs, burying his head in his hands.
“Tell you what,” Myungsoo muses, lighting up another cigarette, “how about you challenge him to another battle. Make it at the warehouse near the pier in a week. It’ll be interesting.”
Howon knows Myungsoo is up to no good from the contemplative tone in his voice, and he knows he should reject Myungsoo, but he hesitates all the same.
“Just promise me you won’t do anything rash. And don’t let Sunggyu know you’re here,” he mumbles, giving in.
The swift agreement and smirk Howon gets in response is much too unnerving for his liking.
The battle is set. Howon makes the youngest member of his crew, a boy named Sungjong, send the challenge to Dongwoo’s side, because he knows Sungjong’s the only one who admires him enough to blindly walk into the lion’s den.
Sunggyu is not pleased with this development. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Howon during crew rehearsals, but says nothing. Woohyun seems puzzled. “Why would you call a battle there?” he asks, and Howon just shrugs in response.
Late at night, when Howon’s preparing chorography for the battle alone, his mind runs off-track with second thoughts, and he finds himself missing beats and forgetting the choreography.
He sighs and decides to push Myungsoo’s words out of his mind for now, and focus on his dance.
Battle night comes too fast.
The air is abuzz with chatter from dancers, and tensions run high. “It’s the battle of the year,” Howon hears a girl squeal excitedly in the background, and he tries to block them out as he walks into the abandoned warehouse.
It’s the first time he’s been inside. The paint on the wooden walls is peeling away, revealing aged planks and slight wood rot. The ceiling is at least ten metres high, made of corrugated iron, and metal scaffolding runs all the way across and around the inside and outside of the building. There are wooden crates and boxes stacked up on the far side of the warehouse, and rows of gas tanks lined up on the left wall. The only source of light comes from the line of motorbike headlights shining through the front door.
Dancers are filing in, leaving a large circle in the centre. The DJ and MC, a boy Myungsoo helped hire called Lee Sungyeol, sets up near the entrance.
Howon sees Dongwoo enter from the corner of his eye, and suddenly the cheers get louder, more raucous. It’s about to start, he thinks grimly to himself. It takes another ten minutes before the crowd settles down.
“…and we’ll spin the bottle to decide who goes first…” he vaguely hears Sungyeol say, and watches as the bottle spins and spins in the middle and comes to a stop, pointing at Dongwoo. Dongwoo grins, genuinely, the gummy smile reaching up to his eyes and Howon is wholly confused as to why he could be so carefree in a battle.
The music starts. Dongwoo hypnotises the crowd.
Howon forgets his resentment momentarily and marvels at Dongwoo's unique moves, transitioning from a complicated popping set to king tutting, then a change of song marking the start of his LA style routine. The song changes again, and Sungyeol shouts “freestyle round!” over the music. Dongwoo grins, and breaks out into a comical sexy dance, doing a bit of wacking and earning a laugh from the audience before reverting back to his signature fluid style.
There’s applause, cheering, and then Howon’s up.
Howon can’t remember what he does. All he knows is that he’s panting by the end of his freestyle round, knees buckling, and the dancers around him are going wild.
“Okay y’all, we’re gonna vote!” Sungyeol shouts into the microphone over the music. “Everybody for Jang Dongwoo, move to the left. Everybody for Lee Howon, to the right. Let’s go!”
Howon wins the battle seventy two to fifty four.
A smile creeps onto his face, and his pride resurfaces momentarily until he realises that Dongwoo is also laughing and clapping along with the others for his win. It dampens his mood. His victory suddenly feels meaningless and empty. He looks over his shoulder at Sunggyu, and he's clapping, but Howon swears he sees a flash of disappointment in Sunggyu's eyes as he turns to leave.
“Okay everybody, move on out,” Sungyeol says into the microphone. The dancers start filing out through the entrance, walking past Howon and patting him on the back or offering a word of congratulations. The crowded warehouse is emptied as fast as it was filled.
Howon sighs, and also turns to leave. The empty warehouse isn’t a very welcoming place, and there’s a weird smell spreading in the air, Howon notes, wrinkling his nose a little.
“Howon!”
Howon looks back reflexively and sees Jang Dongwoo walking towards him.
“Congratulations. You were great,” Dongwoo grins stupidly, reaching out for a handshake, and Howon feels a horrible sinking sensation in his chest at his sincerity. “I loved your freestyle set.”
“Thanks,” Howon mumbles, and looks up into the boy’s eyes. He’s looking at Howon expectantly, probably anticipating some positive feedback on his dancing. “You were great too.”
Dongwoo beams, and Howon shuffles uncomfortably.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” he asks hesitantly. “You know, for calling and winning this battle?”
Dongwoo shakes his head. “I didn’t expect to win. I wasn’t dancing to win…” he trails off, and Howon cocks his head to the side. Dongwoo takes a breath and continues.
“Actually, there’s a reason I came to Busan.” His smile droops and he lowers his head. “Will you hear me out?”
Howon nods slowly, puzzled. Dongwoo sighs.
“I had a falling out with my crew in Gyeonggi. I wanted to get away for a while, and I heard great things about your crew and the dance scene in Busan, so…”
Dongwoo trails off, grinning sheepishly, and Howon starts to put the pieces together.
“I didn’t mean to win the battle the other day, I just… wanted to show myself off to you a bit,” he looks Howon in the eyes, “but it seems like I made you angry instead. I should’ve explained earlier. I was talking to Sunggyu after the battle but he said you were the leader so…”
Suddenly the looks Sunggyu had been shooting him during practise make perfect sense. Howon feels chills run down his back. He should’ve listened-he should've listened instead of snapping at Sunggyu when he said that he wanted to talk about Dongwoo.
“Anyway, what I want to ask is…can I join your crew?”
Howon presses his hands to his face. Stupid, stupid, he curses at himself.
It wasn’t a challenge the mysterious boy from Gyeonggi had sent, but a plea for recognition.
“I thought,” Howon starts. He presses fingers to his temple. “I thought you were trying to…” and the breaks out into laughter. A feeling of relief spreads through his body, and his tensed muscles relax. “Yes, yeah, you can-you can join our crew.”
Dongwoo pumps a fist into the air, grinning. Howon shakes his head. “I’m sorry for being such an ass. I better go find Sunggyu and tell him about this,” he says. Dongwoo nods and grins at him, and Howon can’t help but grin back as he leaves the building.
“Just a minute, Dongwoo,” he hears Sungyeol say when he’s about twenty metres outside, “can you stay inside for a bit? I think Myungsoo wants to talk to you.”
“Who…?” Dongwoo asks.
The gears turn in Howon's head.
The strange smell. The gas containers.
Myungsoo.
His mouth goes dry.
Howon looks to the floor of the warehouse and notes with a horrible flip of his stomach that there’s a puddle of dark liquid right next to the tanks. His eyes travel up, and through the window of the scaffolding, he sees a silhouette and a tiny, bright orange light.
“No,” he croaks, voice barely audible, as Dongwoo heads back inside, puzzled, “no.”
The light drops.
"No!" he screams, and runs, diving forward to try and shield Dongwoo, but it's too late. The cigarette hits the floor, igniting the line of petrol leading to the gas tanks.
The last thing he remembers is hitting the floor with a sickening crack, just metres short of Dongwoo, and Dongwoo’s panicked face as he turns to face Howon.
Everything goes silent. Time freezes.
Then the cylinders explode, and Howon's vision goes white.
Howon can hear wood crackling. The distant blare of an ambulance siren. Everything is hot, burning, scalding, like someone's thrown him into a pool of lava.
He gasps, but he can’t breathe. There’s an excruciating pain in his right shoulder.
Something soft and wet clamps onto his mouth, and air is forcing its way into his lungs. He coughs, splutters, and opens his eyes, gasping for air.
He sees Sunggyu.
“Howon,” he hears, “can you hear me? Are you okay? Please be okay,” the voice chokes slightly.
Then he remembers, and he wishes he didn’t.
Myungsoo. Explosion. Dongwoo.
"Oh god,” he croaks, tries to get up, and Sunggyu’s expression morphs from panic to relief as he hushes him, pushing him down. His head clears a bit more. “Dongwoo. Where’s Dongwoo?”
Sunggyu casts a glance to the figure on the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance. “He…might not make it,” he says honestly, and Howon’s face scrunches up in grief.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen," he whispers, guilt throbbing through his veins, and it’s the worst feeling he’s ever experienced in his life. “Myungsoo…”
“I know,” Sunggyu whispers, "shhh." Tears form in Howon's eyes as Sunggyu holds him, but it doesn’t comfort him in the slightest.
In one night, Busan and Gyeonggi lose their best dancers.
Lee Howon stops dancing. He packs his bags and goes far away, to Seoul, and works odd part time jobs. He hears through the news that Myungsoo's been arrested, and it gives him some relief. The hurt and guilt fades with time-but the nightmares continue to haunt him every night.
Nightmares of Jang Dongwoo’s panicked expression, the last look he'll ever give, before the world goes white-and Howon jolts awake, sweating and panting.
Jang Dongwoo, who lies six feet under.
a/n: dedicated to the lovely
disrepare who ships yadong with a passion ♥
Pairing: Dongwoo/Hoya
Rating: PG-13; Warning: character death
Summary: The best dancer in Busan finds his position threatened by a Gyeonggi boy with too many teeth. o58. of the 100 infinite fic challenge.
Word Count: ~2,800
ig·ni·tion (n)
1. the action of setting something on fire or starting to burn.
2. lee howon, jang dongwoo, and dance
People say that Lee Howon’s the best dancer in Busan.
“He’s amazing,” the voices echo, “best I’ve ever seen. I wish I could dance like him.”
His dancing is powerful, and he hits all the beats precisely. His choreography is always on point. He wins battles with a swoop of his hand, competitions with a slide of his feet, and praises from flocks of teenage girls who follow him around like he’s a superstar.
It’s been this way for a little over a year. Ever since he began entering competitions with his crew, their fame in the underground dance scene had exploded. His crew was great, but he was exceptional.
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Sunggyu would always nag, but Howon ignored his wise words of warning.
Howon finds himself basking in the limelight, finds himself much too proud of himself, and ignores the little nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that one day someone bigger and better will come and snatch it all away.
That day comes faster than Howon anticipates.
It’s a shock. There he is, doing what he always does, sharp hits, smooth turns, following the feel of the music with his expressions, licking his lips and smirking at times to show his confidence, and the people cheer and wave their hands up and down as usual.
No one challenges him-they just accept, falling into the usual routine, and Howon smirks, over-confident.
He’s about to be crowned the winner, when this boy steps up out of nowhere.
“Can I battle too?” the boy asks, and the onlookers start to whisper. The boy is strange looking. He has slightly too many teeth for his face, and his lips are much too upturned for him to be called conventionally handsome, but Howon can sense the dancer’s aura around him.
For the first time in a long time, Howon's intimidated.
He stares at the boy, as the DJ turns up the music, and the boy starts to dance.
He starts off simple. He slides across the floor, does a few arm waves, an out of place twist-o-flex. They're basic foundation moves that anyone can do, and Howon starts to feel relief when the onlookers start to jeer and hiss at the boy. The boy pays no attention to them, continuing to dance.
Suddenly, the music changes in tempo to something faster-and that’s when Howon knows he’s been completely defeated.
The boy is phenomenal. His limbs move with the graceful fluidity that Howon could never achieve, and his moves are clean, smooth and flowing unlike the sharpness Howon retains in his choreography. The way his body moves is just so natural, and the onlookers’ jeers turn into cheers, waving their hands wildly. Howon is mesmerised by the ease the boy throws his hands around and glides across the rough concrete.
The song ends. The boy lands in a finish pose, breathing heavily, and he’s swarmed by dancers left, right, and centre. The girls standing behind Howon rush over and join the crowd, leaving Howon alone with Sunggyu and Woohyun, who just pat him on the back.
Howon grimaces, heart sinking. He leaves before anyone can say anything to him.
His name is Jang Dongwoo, Howon finds out unintentionally, eavesdropping on a conversation between Woohyun and Sunggyu. A Gyeonggi kid who just moved to Busan.
And from what he heard through the door, Dongwoo is one of a kind. If Howon immersed himself in dance every minute of his life, this boy lives and breathes dance.
“He’s a bit thick in the brain,” he hears Woohyun explain, “but he sure as hell picks up dance moves fast.”
Howon finds himself much too aware of his own faults-he scrambles to shut that part of his brain off, but the little voice in his head taunts him repeatedly with I told you so’s and you’re over’s. Howon’s dancing is stiff and practised, but Dongwoo possesses naturalness to his moves that Howon can’t replicate, no matter how much he tries.
Sunggyu just looks at Howon mournfully and fetches the first aid kit when Howon can’t take it anymore and punches the concrete pillar in the practise room, blood streaming down from his knuckles.
A week after news of Howon’s loss, the whole dance scene knows Jang Dongwoo’s name.
“Howon’s losing his touch,” someone says.
“He was never as great as he thought,” whispers another.
It continues like that, a vicious cycle of biting comments behind his back, and it’s driving him crazy.
Howon wants to block his ears and shut his eyes, but the throng of supporters leaving him to cheer for the new dancer in town is something he can’t avoid. He’s consumed with a vicious petty jealousy. He hasn’t even spoken a word to his crew about the boy-much less to the boy-but he wishes that Dongwoo would just disappear off the face of the earth.
“Hello, Howon. Miss me?” A voice cuts through his thoughts, and Howon turns around, startled.
“Myungsoo,” he chokes out, “what the hell are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” Myungsoo takes a drag of his cigarette, then throws the butt to the ground and crushes it under his feet. “I heard you lost.”
Howon grimaces. “That’s besides the point. What the hell man, you can’t just show up here after you threw that competition and disappeared for a year. Sunggyu will kill you.”
Myungsoo chuckles darkly. “He wouldn’t dare.” He walks past Howon to the window of the dance studio, leaning against the sill. “So. Jang Dongwoo?”
Howon glares at him, uneasy. “What about him?”
Myungsoo smirks knowingly. “I know you’re jealous. You want to get rid of him.”
“No I don’t,” Howon lies, fidgeting. “This is my business. I want you to stay out of this.”
“Stop lying. You’re pathetic,” Myungsoo drawls, and Howon flinches. “And it’s not just for you. I don’t want him on Busan turf anyway. He might bring his crew over, and then you’ll be finished.”
Howon sighs, burying his head in his hands.
“Tell you what,” Myungsoo muses, lighting up another cigarette, “how about you challenge him to another battle. Make it at the warehouse near the pier in a week. It’ll be interesting.”
Howon knows Myungsoo is up to no good from the contemplative tone in his voice, and he knows he should reject Myungsoo, but he hesitates all the same.
“Just promise me you won’t do anything rash. And don’t let Sunggyu know you’re here,” he mumbles, giving in.
The swift agreement and smirk Howon gets in response is much too unnerving for his liking.
The battle is set. Howon makes the youngest member of his crew, a boy named Sungjong, send the challenge to Dongwoo’s side, because he knows Sungjong’s the only one who admires him enough to blindly walk into the lion’s den.
Sunggyu is not pleased with this development. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Howon during crew rehearsals, but says nothing. Woohyun seems puzzled. “Why would you call a battle there?” he asks, and Howon just shrugs in response.
Late at night, when Howon’s preparing chorography for the battle alone, his mind runs off-track with second thoughts, and he finds himself missing beats and forgetting the choreography.
He sighs and decides to push Myungsoo’s words out of his mind for now, and focus on his dance.
Battle night comes too fast.
The air is abuzz with chatter from dancers, and tensions run high. “It’s the battle of the year,” Howon hears a girl squeal excitedly in the background, and he tries to block them out as he walks into the abandoned warehouse.
It’s the first time he’s been inside. The paint on the wooden walls is peeling away, revealing aged planks and slight wood rot. The ceiling is at least ten metres high, made of corrugated iron, and metal scaffolding runs all the way across and around the inside and outside of the building. There are wooden crates and boxes stacked up on the far side of the warehouse, and rows of gas tanks lined up on the left wall. The only source of light comes from the line of motorbike headlights shining through the front door.
Dancers are filing in, leaving a large circle in the centre. The DJ and MC, a boy Myungsoo helped hire called Lee Sungyeol, sets up near the entrance.
Howon sees Dongwoo enter from the corner of his eye, and suddenly the cheers get louder, more raucous. It’s about to start, he thinks grimly to himself. It takes another ten minutes before the crowd settles down.
“…and we’ll spin the bottle to decide who goes first…” he vaguely hears Sungyeol say, and watches as the bottle spins and spins in the middle and comes to a stop, pointing at Dongwoo. Dongwoo grins, genuinely, the gummy smile reaching up to his eyes and Howon is wholly confused as to why he could be so carefree in a battle.
The music starts. Dongwoo hypnotises the crowd.
Howon forgets his resentment momentarily and marvels at Dongwoo's unique moves, transitioning from a complicated popping set to king tutting, then a change of song marking the start of his LA style routine. The song changes again, and Sungyeol shouts “freestyle round!” over the music. Dongwoo grins, and breaks out into a comical sexy dance, doing a bit of wacking and earning a laugh from the audience before reverting back to his signature fluid style.
There’s applause, cheering, and then Howon’s up.
Howon can’t remember what he does. All he knows is that he’s panting by the end of his freestyle round, knees buckling, and the dancers around him are going wild.
“Okay y’all, we’re gonna vote!” Sungyeol shouts into the microphone over the music. “Everybody for Jang Dongwoo, move to the left. Everybody for Lee Howon, to the right. Let’s go!”
Howon wins the battle seventy two to fifty four.
A smile creeps onto his face, and his pride resurfaces momentarily until he realises that Dongwoo is also laughing and clapping along with the others for his win. It dampens his mood. His victory suddenly feels meaningless and empty. He looks over his shoulder at Sunggyu, and he's clapping, but Howon swears he sees a flash of disappointment in Sunggyu's eyes as he turns to leave.
“Okay everybody, move on out,” Sungyeol says into the microphone. The dancers start filing out through the entrance, walking past Howon and patting him on the back or offering a word of congratulations. The crowded warehouse is emptied as fast as it was filled.
Howon sighs, and also turns to leave. The empty warehouse isn’t a very welcoming place, and there’s a weird smell spreading in the air, Howon notes, wrinkling his nose a little.
“Howon!”
Howon looks back reflexively and sees Jang Dongwoo walking towards him.
“Congratulations. You were great,” Dongwoo grins stupidly, reaching out for a handshake, and Howon feels a horrible sinking sensation in his chest at his sincerity. “I loved your freestyle set.”
“Thanks,” Howon mumbles, and looks up into the boy’s eyes. He’s looking at Howon expectantly, probably anticipating some positive feedback on his dancing. “You were great too.”
Dongwoo beams, and Howon shuffles uncomfortably.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” he asks hesitantly. “You know, for calling and winning this battle?”
Dongwoo shakes his head. “I didn’t expect to win. I wasn’t dancing to win…” he trails off, and Howon cocks his head to the side. Dongwoo takes a breath and continues.
“Actually, there’s a reason I came to Busan.” His smile droops and he lowers his head. “Will you hear me out?”
Howon nods slowly, puzzled. Dongwoo sighs.
“I had a falling out with my crew in Gyeonggi. I wanted to get away for a while, and I heard great things about your crew and the dance scene in Busan, so…”
Dongwoo trails off, grinning sheepishly, and Howon starts to put the pieces together.
“I didn’t mean to win the battle the other day, I just… wanted to show myself off to you a bit,” he looks Howon in the eyes, “but it seems like I made you angry instead. I should’ve explained earlier. I was talking to Sunggyu after the battle but he said you were the leader so…”
Suddenly the looks Sunggyu had been shooting him during practise make perfect sense. Howon feels chills run down his back. He should’ve listened-he should've listened instead of snapping at Sunggyu when he said that he wanted to talk about Dongwoo.
“Anyway, what I want to ask is…can I join your crew?”
Howon presses his hands to his face. Stupid, stupid, he curses at himself.
It wasn’t a challenge the mysterious boy from Gyeonggi had sent, but a plea for recognition.
“I thought,” Howon starts. He presses fingers to his temple. “I thought you were trying to…” and the breaks out into laughter. A feeling of relief spreads through his body, and his tensed muscles relax. “Yes, yeah, you can-you can join our crew.”
Dongwoo pumps a fist into the air, grinning. Howon shakes his head. “I’m sorry for being such an ass. I better go find Sunggyu and tell him about this,” he says. Dongwoo nods and grins at him, and Howon can’t help but grin back as he leaves the building.
“Just a minute, Dongwoo,” he hears Sungyeol say when he’s about twenty metres outside, “can you stay inside for a bit? I think Myungsoo wants to talk to you.”
“Who…?” Dongwoo asks.
The gears turn in Howon's head.
The strange smell. The gas containers.
Myungsoo.
His mouth goes dry.
Howon looks to the floor of the warehouse and notes with a horrible flip of his stomach that there’s a puddle of dark liquid right next to the tanks. His eyes travel up, and through the window of the scaffolding, he sees a silhouette and a tiny, bright orange light.
“No,” he croaks, voice barely audible, as Dongwoo heads back inside, puzzled, “no.”
The light drops.
"No!" he screams, and runs, diving forward to try and shield Dongwoo, but it's too late. The cigarette hits the floor, igniting the line of petrol leading to the gas tanks.
The last thing he remembers is hitting the floor with a sickening crack, just metres short of Dongwoo, and Dongwoo’s panicked face as he turns to face Howon.
Everything goes silent. Time freezes.
Then the cylinders explode, and Howon's vision goes white.
Howon can hear wood crackling. The distant blare of an ambulance siren. Everything is hot, burning, scalding, like someone's thrown him into a pool of lava.
He gasps, but he can’t breathe. There’s an excruciating pain in his right shoulder.
Something soft and wet clamps onto his mouth, and air is forcing its way into his lungs. He coughs, splutters, and opens his eyes, gasping for air.
He sees Sunggyu.
“Howon,” he hears, “can you hear me? Are you okay? Please be okay,” the voice chokes slightly.
Then he remembers, and he wishes he didn’t.
Myungsoo. Explosion. Dongwoo.
"Oh god,” he croaks, tries to get up, and Sunggyu’s expression morphs from panic to relief as he hushes him, pushing him down. His head clears a bit more. “Dongwoo. Where’s Dongwoo?”
Sunggyu casts a glance to the figure on the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance. “He…might not make it,” he says honestly, and Howon’s face scrunches up in grief.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen," he whispers, guilt throbbing through his veins, and it’s the worst feeling he’s ever experienced in his life. “Myungsoo…”
“I know,” Sunggyu whispers, "shhh." Tears form in Howon's eyes as Sunggyu holds him, but it doesn’t comfort him in the slightest.
In one night, Busan and Gyeonggi lose their best dancers.
Lee Howon stops dancing. He packs his bags and goes far away, to Seoul, and works odd part time jobs. He hears through the news that Myungsoo's been arrested, and it gives him some relief. The hurt and guilt fades with time-but the nightmares continue to haunt him every night.
Nightmares of Jang Dongwoo’s panicked expression, the last look he'll ever give, before the world goes white-and Howon jolts awake, sweating and panting.
Jang Dongwoo, who lies six feet under.
a/n: dedicated to the lovely
disrepare who ships yadong with a passion ♥