lancing some old wounds
since the MBLAQ Fic Exchange never happened...i will post the fic i wrote for sadnlonleyme.
Title: Of Bonfires and Old Memories
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mir/G.O., a bit of Mir/OC at the end
Warnings: angsty, dark, a bit violent and abusive
Notes: I hope you enjoy this- though that seems a bit wrong to say, considering....
He stared sullenly into the flames of the bonfire. Words and laughter floated around him but none touched him. He’d come out to the middle of nowhere at the behest of a friend, at the behest of a need to escape the memories. Instead the memories followed like rabid hunting dogs.
Dark chocolate eyes raked over his body. “So you are Bang Chulyong.” A voice, not dark chocolate like the eyes but just as tempting, caressed his name. Chulyong shivered inside but stared bravely into those eyes.
“Yes. Pleased to meet you.” He bowed deeply before the other man.
“Oh yes. I’m very pleased to meet you too.” The edge to the words had Chulyong straightening hastily.
When Byunghee’s gaze slid slowly over his body once again, Chulyong bit the inside of his lower lips and willed his cock not to twitch. He’d already pulled strings to get into this company. He knew he’d caused ripples and resentment among other employees.
No need to add to those ripples by hitting on his very sexy and much older coworker.
Someone tripped over his feet and apologized. He nodded acknowledgment and went back to staring into the flickering flames. He wondered how hot they were, how long they would take to scorch his flesh from his bones. He wondered if it would be more painful than the burning in his gut.
A bong appeared in front of him. A girl with a cute face and bright smile encouraged him to take a hit, loosen him up, she claimed. Drugs had never been his thing but he noted her glazed eyes and easy smile and figured what the hell. Maybe a little marijuana would ease the burning more than physically burning off his own flesh.
Pain. He came to know it well. Those dark eyes dimmed with alcohol until the light, the life he was coming to love vanished. The vile words spewed from lips which use to spout words of affection. He wondered when it all started to break down.
Was it the time he was late coming home from a meeting with Bi? Was the possibility of him being with someone as built, as attractive as Rain without giving in to the urge to screw him so impossible?
“You slut.” The words ripped through the apartment’s stale air. Air stale with cigarette smoke and old beer. “You goddamn good for nothing little slut.” Those eyes resembled sharp onyx instead of dark chocolate. That voice cut like razor into his soul.
“What? I was in a meeting. It ran late.” He dropped his coat over the arm of a chair, loosened his tie.
“Liar. You are nothing but a fucking liar.” Hands fisted at Byunghee’s sides. He noticed them but figured it was a way for Byunghee to control his temper.
“No, baby. You can call Bi and ask him.”
“Well, aren’t you two all cozy and familiar. You don’t even call him hyung anymore. I guess being his little whore has benefits. Bet that’s how you got into the company to begin with.”
A fist lashed out and caught him in the jaw.
He stumbled back and looked at Byunghee in shock. “What was that for? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Byunghee prowled closer and grabbed the collar of his shirt, slammed him against the wall. “Of course you did nothing wrong. Fucking the boss wouldn’t be wrong to a little whore like you.” Byunghee practically spat the words. “You’re trash. Nothing but worthless trash.”
Flinging him to the side, Byunghee spared a kick to the abdomen for him before slamming out of the apartment.
He inhaled and tried to hold it the way the chipper girl in front of him instructed. The smoke burned down his throat and into his lungs and he coughed until he thought he would puke. How embarrassing. But the girl only gave the giggle of someone who’d already taken more than a few hits and told him the next time wouldn’t be as bad. When the burn subsided he should try again.
He nodded and waved her and the bong away. Given a choice between the burn of pot and the burn of his memories, he’d take the pot any day.
“I saw you in the bar with him, Byunghee.” He stood arms akimbo, glaring at his boyfriend, his lover.
“He’s nothing. Just a fuck. Don’t go all girl on me.” Byunghee pulled a beer from the fridge and twisted off the top.
“You call me a whore but you are fucking someone else. What the fuck?” Anger searing through his control, he grabbed the bottle from Byunghee’s hand and slammed it against the wall.
In a very anti-climatic way, the heavy glass bottle didn’t break but thudded against the wall and then to the floor, flinging yeasty liquid everywhere.
“You spilled my beer.” Byunghee’s voice was calm but the edge pierced through the angry red haze. “You fucking cunt.”
The fist connected with his abdomen and doubled him over. The blows that rained down on his back and head sent pain spiraling through him. As he collapsed to the floor, a foot kicked him in the abdomen and then in the crotch, had him spewing his supper onto the floor.
A strong hand pulled his head back by the hair. “You don’t ever touch my beer. You are not worthy of touching my goddamn beer.” The hand shoved his head back down, down into his puddle of vomit.
Tears slid silently down his cheeks as he heard the rustling of clothes, the tapping of shoes and the shutting of the front door. He curled tighter into himself, hoping to disappear, uncaring of the vomit coating his shirt and face.
When the bong made its way back to him, he took another hit. This time he was able to hold it, let it burn pleasantly in his chest until he felt lightheaded. Letting it out in short breaths, he wondered if the lightheadedness was from holding his breath or from the pot. He’d just have to take another to find out.
The belt sang through the air and cracked across his back. He jumped, waking at the line of pain throbbing in his back. “What the hell.” He looked bleary eyed at an obviously wasted Byunghee.
“Wake up, little slut. I’m horny.” The belt whipped through the air again. This lash caught him across the chest, making one nipple pebble in protest.
“Don’t think you are touching me when you are drunk and smell like some other asshole.” He stood hastily and tried to dodge the swinging belt.
“What are you gonna do? You weak little pussy.”
One insult too many, the sting of belt lashes, and the smell of sex burned into him until he was on Byunghee, all teeth and nails and fists. He drew blood and left bruises. The wall of black rage cracked at the sound of strangled gasps. He saw Byunghee gasping for breath. He felt pain in the backs of his hands.
Oh. The pain was from Byunghee’s scratching at his hands. The hands that wrapped around his throat and squeezing steadily. Cutting off sound and air and turning Byunghee’s face a strange shade of purple. He wondered idly if he should stop. If he should let him die. He wondered why he didn’t care.
Being high, he discovered, didn’t make him giggle like it did other people. It did erase the burn. It hollowed him out till he didn’t care. The memories scampered off whimpering in the face of his numbness. He recognized the numbness, reveled in it. Fuck the guilt and the pain. He grinned maniacally into the flames.
Chulyong woke the next morning in a strange bed smelling of sex and stale pot. An arm draped across his abdomen. He glanced over into one of the most beautiful faces he’d ever seen on a man and felt his chest try to cave in. Nonono, he thought frantically. I can’t do this. I will not do this.
Easing out from under the arm, he began finding his clothes strewn amongst the stranger’s. Dressing hurriedly, he paused to stare at the sleeping face. Maybe in a different lifetime he would’ve taken the chance, the risk of waking the stranger and getting to know him. Maybe in a different lifetime he could’ve snuggled next to the other man and enjoyed early morning laziness.
Maybe in another lifetime he’d have something to offer another man.
But not in this one.
...and this is why i tend not to write angst.
Title: Of Bonfires and Old Memories
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mir/G.O., a bit of Mir/OC at the end
Warnings: angsty, dark, a bit violent and abusive
Notes: I hope you enjoy this- though that seems a bit wrong to say, considering....
He stared sullenly into the flames of the bonfire. Words and laughter floated around him but none touched him. He’d come out to the middle of nowhere at the behest of a friend, at the behest of a need to escape the memories. Instead the memories followed like rabid hunting dogs.
Dark chocolate eyes raked over his body. “So you are Bang Chulyong.” A voice, not dark chocolate like the eyes but just as tempting, caressed his name. Chulyong shivered inside but stared bravely into those eyes.
“Yes. Pleased to meet you.” He bowed deeply before the other man.
“Oh yes. I’m very pleased to meet you too.” The edge to the words had Chulyong straightening hastily.
When Byunghee’s gaze slid slowly over his body once again, Chulyong bit the inside of his lower lips and willed his cock not to twitch. He’d already pulled strings to get into this company. He knew he’d caused ripples and resentment among other employees.
No need to add to those ripples by hitting on his very sexy and much older coworker.
Someone tripped over his feet and apologized. He nodded acknowledgment and went back to staring into the flickering flames. He wondered how hot they were, how long they would take to scorch his flesh from his bones. He wondered if it would be more painful than the burning in his gut.
A bong appeared in front of him. A girl with a cute face and bright smile encouraged him to take a hit, loosen him up, she claimed. Drugs had never been his thing but he noted her glazed eyes and easy smile and figured what the hell. Maybe a little marijuana would ease the burning more than physically burning off his own flesh.
Pain. He came to know it well. Those dark eyes dimmed with alcohol until the light, the life he was coming to love vanished. The vile words spewed from lips which use to spout words of affection. He wondered when it all started to break down.
Was it the time he was late coming home from a meeting with Bi? Was the possibility of him being with someone as built, as attractive as Rain without giving in to the urge to screw him so impossible?
“You slut.” The words ripped through the apartment’s stale air. Air stale with cigarette smoke and old beer. “You goddamn good for nothing little slut.” Those eyes resembled sharp onyx instead of dark chocolate. That voice cut like razor into his soul.
“What? I was in a meeting. It ran late.” He dropped his coat over the arm of a chair, loosened his tie.
“Liar. You are nothing but a fucking liar.” Hands fisted at Byunghee’s sides. He noticed them but figured it was a way for Byunghee to control his temper.
“No, baby. You can call Bi and ask him.”
“Well, aren’t you two all cozy and familiar. You don’t even call him hyung anymore. I guess being his little whore has benefits. Bet that’s how you got into the company to begin with.”
A fist lashed out and caught him in the jaw.
He stumbled back and looked at Byunghee in shock. “What was that for? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Byunghee prowled closer and grabbed the collar of his shirt, slammed him against the wall. “Of course you did nothing wrong. Fucking the boss wouldn’t be wrong to a little whore like you.” Byunghee practically spat the words. “You’re trash. Nothing but worthless trash.”
Flinging him to the side, Byunghee spared a kick to the abdomen for him before slamming out of the apartment.
He inhaled and tried to hold it the way the chipper girl in front of him instructed. The smoke burned down his throat and into his lungs and he coughed until he thought he would puke. How embarrassing. But the girl only gave the giggle of someone who’d already taken more than a few hits and told him the next time wouldn’t be as bad. When the burn subsided he should try again.
He nodded and waved her and the bong away. Given a choice between the burn of pot and the burn of his memories, he’d take the pot any day.
“I saw you in the bar with him, Byunghee.” He stood arms akimbo, glaring at his boyfriend, his lover.
“He’s nothing. Just a fuck. Don’t go all girl on me.” Byunghee pulled a beer from the fridge and twisted off the top.
“You call me a whore but you are fucking someone else. What the fuck?” Anger searing through his control, he grabbed the bottle from Byunghee’s hand and slammed it against the wall.
In a very anti-climatic way, the heavy glass bottle didn’t break but thudded against the wall and then to the floor, flinging yeasty liquid everywhere.
“You spilled my beer.” Byunghee’s voice was calm but the edge pierced through the angry red haze. “You fucking cunt.”
The fist connected with his abdomen and doubled him over. The blows that rained down on his back and head sent pain spiraling through him. As he collapsed to the floor, a foot kicked him in the abdomen and then in the crotch, had him spewing his supper onto the floor.
A strong hand pulled his head back by the hair. “You don’t ever touch my beer. You are not worthy of touching my goddamn beer.” The hand shoved his head back down, down into his puddle of vomit.
Tears slid silently down his cheeks as he heard the rustling of clothes, the tapping of shoes and the shutting of the front door. He curled tighter into himself, hoping to disappear, uncaring of the vomit coating his shirt and face.
When the bong made its way back to him, he took another hit. This time he was able to hold it, let it burn pleasantly in his chest until he felt lightheaded. Letting it out in short breaths, he wondered if the lightheadedness was from holding his breath or from the pot. He’d just have to take another to find out.
The belt sang through the air and cracked across his back. He jumped, waking at the line of pain throbbing in his back. “What the hell.” He looked bleary eyed at an obviously wasted Byunghee.
“Wake up, little slut. I’m horny.” The belt whipped through the air again. This lash caught him across the chest, making one nipple pebble in protest.
“Don’t think you are touching me when you are drunk and smell like some other asshole.” He stood hastily and tried to dodge the swinging belt.
“What are you gonna do? You weak little pussy.”
One insult too many, the sting of belt lashes, and the smell of sex burned into him until he was on Byunghee, all teeth and nails and fists. He drew blood and left bruises. The wall of black rage cracked at the sound of strangled gasps. He saw Byunghee gasping for breath. He felt pain in the backs of his hands.
Oh. The pain was from Byunghee’s scratching at his hands. The hands that wrapped around his throat and squeezing steadily. Cutting off sound and air and turning Byunghee’s face a strange shade of purple. He wondered idly if he should stop. If he should let him die. He wondered why he didn’t care.
Being high, he discovered, didn’t make him giggle like it did other people. It did erase the burn. It hollowed him out till he didn’t care. The memories scampered off whimpering in the face of his numbness. He recognized the numbness, reveled in it. Fuck the guilt and the pain. He grinned maniacally into the flames.
Chulyong woke the next morning in a strange bed smelling of sex and stale pot. An arm draped across his abdomen. He glanced over into one of the most beautiful faces he’d ever seen on a man and felt his chest try to cave in. Nonono, he thought frantically. I can’t do this. I will not do this.
Easing out from under the arm, he began finding his clothes strewn amongst the stranger’s. Dressing hurriedly, he paused to stare at the sleeping face. Maybe in a different lifetime he would’ve taken the chance, the risk of waking the stranger and getting to know him. Maybe in a different lifetime he could’ve snuggled next to the other man and enjoyed early morning laziness.
Maybe in another lifetime he’d have something to offer another man.
But not in this one.
...and this is why i tend not to write angst.