i dont even know what this is [ fic ]
we both put our hands up
gd/top | pg, 411 words, canon
so there's this dream jiyong has sometimes, see.
so there's this dream jiyong has, sometimes, see.
in it he's sprawled out on some sort of scratchy carpet underneath the half-light watching the rain fall down outside. or he's in the back seat of a taxi cab when the rain gets heavier, eyes swollen and half-lidded and the window cracked open for his cigarette smoke that hangs off his bottom lip, condensation dripping heavy down the pane. or he's totally submerged in this pool they used to own, when their house was bigger and the days stretched longer and his parents were happier. wherever.
the point is, jiyong is someplace with a lot of water and a little-known fact about jiyong is that he doesn't exactly like water. nobody knows about it, not anyone, not his mother nor youngbae nor hyunsuk and he'd rather die than admit it, but jiyong hates getting his shoes wet and at that pool he always had those bright orange floaties around his arms (and even then he always went kicking and screaming).
so, anyway, it's jiyong plus water. but it's not a nightmare, because of the general okay-ness he feels, like when he's sedated, or high, or - or, oh, like he does when there is some sort of soundtrack playing, humming, wrapped like white noise at the backs of his ears. the music that he listens to without taking any part in.
yea. that's it.
so there's that, and then also there's something else, real and closed in around him - something he hangs onto and occasionally remembers to lean back into, something that steals his cigarette and is eyes-closed on the carpet, something noise-static and real that says, "i got you," when he's about to wake up, "i got you, ji. i got you," in this baritone pianissimo kind of like the one jiyong always pushes up on the soundboard first when he's working to get that ambience he'll forget is even there until he pulls it back again.
"i got you."
so there's this waking-up thing seunghyun gets, sometimes, see.
in it he's woken up before his radio-alarm and doesn't understand, maybe chalks it up to his fucked up internal clock, until he sees somebody skinny, somebody who never stays, in the bathroom adjacent using his toothpaste. the entire bathroom counter with all its shit is straightened and ten thousand cleaning products are scattered around the tile floor, and jiyong always starts to look up just as seunghyun's radio begins to warm up and play.
set the roof on fire
cesc/villa | pg, 528 words, canon
so there's this dream cesc has sometimes, see.
so there's this dream cesc has sometimes, see.
before he starts using pills he's always had more nightmares than dreams - and also probably the whole entire point of taking pills is so he won't have to dream - but lately he's been having them again. and he thinks maybe he should switch his medicine, but they're not exactly bad dreams: no monsters inside his closet like when he was six or falling off of skyrises when he was a little older or playing on a team full of his sister's teddy bears when he was even older than that.
unless, well, david counts as a teddy bear. but most likely not, because david, when he falls into cesc and winds his arms around cesc and rolls over a couple times with cesc entangled so tight around him he has to gasp for air, doesn't feel like a stuffed animal. no cushioning the fall, or ears and eyes and nose but no mouth, or moving - waddling, really - as fast as teddy bears go, which is pretty much the pace of molasses.
no.
david, his limbs and joints are bone and hard, and colliding with cesc feels like cesc is breaking a few more ribs than he bargained for. david likes to scream when he shoots the ball into the net, loud and shattering, his eyes closing and his nose scrunching and his body lifted up on cesc's shoulders so high he's flying. david arrives the same way he leaves, fast. fast, and cesc can't process it, like a winding strip of meteor light.
most of the times, in cesc's dreams volumes one through six, it'll be on a pitch and it'll be at a game, cue the lights and miscellaneous team chants and a red-and-yellow flag and sometimes, yes, even fucking vuvuzelas. it'll be cesc and david against some opponent that they win against easily, through one-twos and shouts across the field and slippery tugs at the collar of his jersey. after he sees the ball through deep into the net, david streaks in and flies, cesc sometimes bruising something against the catch of david's elbow, but then david is gone. and all that's left is a burning sensation between cesc's fourth and fifth rib.
volume seven, though - and this only happens when cesc tosses and turns until he finds the right page - david says, in the locker room, "good play," and chuffs him on the back. and then there are magically shot glasses in their hands that they click together before cesc dances too much and blacks out. sometimes "good play" is what cesc smiles at, and other times it sounds like david is saying something else, something with more incredible's and breathtaking's and beautiful's and less play, and instead of doing something stupid like smile, cesc will pull david closer until it's not about the game anymore. just to see what the view is like up on someone else's shoulders.
"i had another dream last night," cesc says when they're changing.
"i really don't think that's supposed to happen," david says, and pulls out a pen. "maybe you should try what i'm using."
(david doesn't need to dream.)
gd/top | pg, 411 words, canon
so there's this dream jiyong has sometimes, see.
so there's this dream jiyong has, sometimes, see.
in it he's sprawled out on some sort of scratchy carpet underneath the half-light watching the rain fall down outside. or he's in the back seat of a taxi cab when the rain gets heavier, eyes swollen and half-lidded and the window cracked open for his cigarette smoke that hangs off his bottom lip, condensation dripping heavy down the pane. or he's totally submerged in this pool they used to own, when their house was bigger and the days stretched longer and his parents were happier. wherever.
the point is, jiyong is someplace with a lot of water and a little-known fact about jiyong is that he doesn't exactly like water. nobody knows about it, not anyone, not his mother nor youngbae nor hyunsuk and he'd rather die than admit it, but jiyong hates getting his shoes wet and at that pool he always had those bright orange floaties around his arms (and even then he always went kicking and screaming).
so, anyway, it's jiyong plus water. but it's not a nightmare, because of the general okay-ness he feels, like when he's sedated, or high, or - or, oh, like he does when there is some sort of soundtrack playing, humming, wrapped like white noise at the backs of his ears. the music that he listens to without taking any part in.
yea. that's it.
so there's that, and then also there's something else, real and closed in around him - something he hangs onto and occasionally remembers to lean back into, something that steals his cigarette and is eyes-closed on the carpet, something noise-static and real that says, "i got you," when he's about to wake up, "i got you, ji. i got you," in this baritone pianissimo kind of like the one jiyong always pushes up on the soundboard first when he's working to get that ambience he'll forget is even there until he pulls it back again.
"i got you."
so there's this waking-up thing seunghyun gets, sometimes, see.
in it he's woken up before his radio-alarm and doesn't understand, maybe chalks it up to his fucked up internal clock, until he sees somebody skinny, somebody who never stays, in the bathroom adjacent using his toothpaste. the entire bathroom counter with all its shit is straightened and ten thousand cleaning products are scattered around the tile floor, and jiyong always starts to look up just as seunghyun's radio begins to warm up and play.
set the roof on fire
cesc/villa | pg, 528 words, canon
so there's this dream cesc has sometimes, see.
so there's this dream cesc has sometimes, see.
before he starts using pills he's always had more nightmares than dreams - and also probably the whole entire point of taking pills is so he won't have to dream - but lately he's been having them again. and he thinks maybe he should switch his medicine, but they're not exactly bad dreams: no monsters inside his closet like when he was six or falling off of skyrises when he was a little older or playing on a team full of his sister's teddy bears when he was even older than that.
unless, well, david counts as a teddy bear. but most likely not, because david, when he falls into cesc and winds his arms around cesc and rolls over a couple times with cesc entangled so tight around him he has to gasp for air, doesn't feel like a stuffed animal. no cushioning the fall, or ears and eyes and nose but no mouth, or moving - waddling, really - as fast as teddy bears go, which is pretty much the pace of molasses.
no.
david, his limbs and joints are bone and hard, and colliding with cesc feels like cesc is breaking a few more ribs than he bargained for. david likes to scream when he shoots the ball into the net, loud and shattering, his eyes closing and his nose scrunching and his body lifted up on cesc's shoulders so high he's flying. david arrives the same way he leaves, fast. fast, and cesc can't process it, like a winding strip of meteor light.
most of the times, in cesc's dreams volumes one through six, it'll be on a pitch and it'll be at a game, cue the lights and miscellaneous team chants and a red-and-yellow flag and sometimes, yes, even fucking vuvuzelas. it'll be cesc and david against some opponent that they win against easily, through one-twos and shouts across the field and slippery tugs at the collar of his jersey. after he sees the ball through deep into the net, david streaks in and flies, cesc sometimes bruising something against the catch of david's elbow, but then david is gone. and all that's left is a burning sensation between cesc's fourth and fifth rib.
volume seven, though - and this only happens when cesc tosses and turns until he finds the right page - david says, in the locker room, "good play," and chuffs him on the back. and then there are magically shot glasses in their hands that they click together before cesc dances too much and blacks out. sometimes "good play" is what cesc smiles at, and other times it sounds like david is saying something else, something with more incredible's and breathtaking's and beautiful's and less play, and instead of doing something stupid like smile, cesc will pull david closer until it's not about the game anymore. just to see what the view is like up on someone else's shoulders.
"i had another dream last night," cesc says when they're changing.
"i really don't think that's supposed to happen," david says, and pulls out a pen. "maybe you should try what i'm using."
(david doesn't need to dream.)