the warm weather is holding
references to mblaq disbandment and tykeys disbandment, inspired by "for grace, after a party"
the warm weather is holding
g.o/joon, r, 1034 w
---
The sentiment that lies in watching your lover sleep is a frequent theme in literature. Byunghee is a romantic only on principle, but the combination of lethargy and insomnia makes these kinds of situations difficult to avoid. Beside him Changsun is on his stomach, murmuring about morning trains and fatigue. By the time he looks away his cigarette has burnt out.
(Seungho is in the middle of double-checking his suitcase. He's ordered every compartment as if he's moving half-way across the world, by jean colour and y-shirts and t-shirts and underwear, open-toed shoes, close-toed shoes, bathroom utensils.
"It's not as if we didn't see this coming," Byunghee says. Seungho takes out his toothbrush and puts it back in again.
"What the hell was that?" Changsun is somewhere down the hallway. Byunghee hears a resounding thump: Changsun kicking the wall with bare feet. "'Sorry, guys, it's out of my hands'? What kind of bullshit is that? What kind of bullshit is that? Shit." Another thump.
Cheolyong sits on the lounge room couch, eyes red from an hour of crying. Beside him Sanghyun watches the evening news. Byunghee had muted the television an hour ago.)
"You call yourself a man but you don't even make me breakfast." Changsun speaks into the pillow.
"You were pretending to be asleep? That's so cheap." Byunghee bends over to the side the bed and picks up his pants from where Changsun had thrown them the night before. The cigarette packet in in his pocket is crumpled and empty. "Why aren't you making breakfast for me?"
"Because I'm the girl," he says, easy, twists around to face him and smiles. When he stretches his back arches off the bed like a cat. Byunghee is reminded briefly of spring in 1998, feeding strays in the shade of a maple. "Have you fallen for me yet?"
Byunghee rolls his eyes. "I can't even get it up for you. Sorry Joon."
"Wow, so cruel." Changsun writhes until the blanket closes over his head. Suddenly he pops upright, withdraws from the covers and pushes himself off the bed. "Hey, where's my underwear?"
Byunghee gestures towards the doorway.
(Byunghee once had a lover seven years his senior. He remembers thinking he was in love, remembers being afraid that she would grow tired of him and leave. One day the fear overwhelmed him, and in the time it took for one cab to go from the local noraebang to her apartment he talked about singing lessons, his mother's lunch habits, midnight radio, about trying to become a musician, as if having her hear everything important to him would assuage the burn of when she would inevitably leave.
She had smiled. The lines around her eyes made her beautiful.
"You try to act like an adult, but in the end your expectations are just like a child's.")
Byunghee hears him in the kitchen opening the refrigerator door, the stove being turned on. Changsun whistles the national anthem.
The smell of eggs is succeeded quickly by ash. Changsun comes back into the room armed with runny omelette and burnt toast and an apologetic smile, proclaiming It's the thought that counts as he slides himself back into the bed.
"What's with that? Are you trying to be cute?"
"Is it working?" Changsun asks, setting the food down on his lap. Byunghee recognises the flower in his hair from the bouquet Hyunjung sent him last week. He had burnt the note attached to it on the kitchen stove while making ramen the day after. I'm sorry about how things have gone with your group. Call soon.
"A little."
("I'll still love you guys forever and ever, you know that, right?" Sukyung brings her arms up and wraps them around their necks, pressing their cheeks towards her chest. The movement makes Hyunjung spill his drink, but at this point no one is worried about the mess. There are seven empty bottles of soju on the desk; from where he is Byunghee gestures towards the waiter for one more.
"My nose is up against your boob. I can't breathe."
"Yah, Byunghee." She kisses him messily on the forehead, laughing. "Don't say that as if you don't like it.")
"Today's the summer solstice, right? 21st of June."
"Who cares?" he asks. "Kiss me."
Byunghee is about to do as he's told, but then Changsun's phone goes off. The moment is lost. "It's Cheolyoung," he says, shoving his phone in front of Byunghee's face before flipping it open. "He just got back to the farm. He says his sister is berating him."
"Unlucky. Seungho told me his mom made him a big pot of kimchi ramen."
"Her food is the best," he says. Changsun's head falls onto his shoulder.
(They're watching themselves on TV.
"I can't believe you guys did that." Sanghyun slaps his thigh, looking over to Seungho and Changsun.
"I hope those noodles were worth it," Cbeolyong says. "Because Jihoonie-hyung is going to have your asses for breakfast once he sees this footage."
Seungho flicks the back of Cheolyong's head. "It'll be a nice change from having your ass for breakfast all the time."
For the entire episode Changsun is uncharacteristically quiet. From Byunghee's vantage point he sees him slide his arm around Seungho's waist. He smiles as if he has a secret.)
"Have you heard from Sanghyun?"
"No." Byunghee finishes his toast, staring at the wall as he speaks. Suddenly he feels his throat constrict.
"I think," he starts, and he hears his voice begin to break. "I think I invested more into this whole stupid group thing than I thought I did."
("This is just some lame thing idol groups do to look good on TV," Cheolyong says. Outside Byunghee hears screams, roaring, the chant of a name he's still not used to. Cheolyong's voice tremors. "But it can't do us any harm, can it?"
"Let's do it!" Changsun says, placing his hand on top of Cheolyong's, and Seungho follows suit. Byunghee is a sheep at heart. Out of all of them Sanghyun is the most composed; he's the last to join them, and when the warmth of his palm completes the hand pile Byunghee feels something surge in his chest.)
the warm weather is holding
g.o/joon, r, 1034 w
---
The sentiment that lies in watching your lover sleep is a frequent theme in literature. Byunghee is a romantic only on principle, but the combination of lethargy and insomnia makes these kinds of situations difficult to avoid. Beside him Changsun is on his stomach, murmuring about morning trains and fatigue. By the time he looks away his cigarette has burnt out.
(Seungho is in the middle of double-checking his suitcase. He's ordered every compartment as if he's moving half-way across the world, by jean colour and y-shirts and t-shirts and underwear, open-toed shoes, close-toed shoes, bathroom utensils.
"It's not as if we didn't see this coming," Byunghee says. Seungho takes out his toothbrush and puts it back in again.
"What the hell was that?" Changsun is somewhere down the hallway. Byunghee hears a resounding thump: Changsun kicking the wall with bare feet. "'Sorry, guys, it's out of my hands'? What kind of bullshit is that? What kind of bullshit is that? Shit." Another thump.
Cheolyong sits on the lounge room couch, eyes red from an hour of crying. Beside him Sanghyun watches the evening news. Byunghee had muted the television an hour ago.)
"You call yourself a man but you don't even make me breakfast." Changsun speaks into the pillow.
"You were pretending to be asleep? That's so cheap." Byunghee bends over to the side the bed and picks up his pants from where Changsun had thrown them the night before. The cigarette packet in in his pocket is crumpled and empty. "Why aren't you making breakfast for me?"
"Because I'm the girl," he says, easy, twists around to face him and smiles. When he stretches his back arches off the bed like a cat. Byunghee is reminded briefly of spring in 1998, feeding strays in the shade of a maple. "Have you fallen for me yet?"
Byunghee rolls his eyes. "I can't even get it up for you. Sorry Joon."
"Wow, so cruel." Changsun writhes until the blanket closes over his head. Suddenly he pops upright, withdraws from the covers and pushes himself off the bed. "Hey, where's my underwear?"
Byunghee gestures towards the doorway.
(Byunghee once had a lover seven years his senior. He remembers thinking he was in love, remembers being afraid that she would grow tired of him and leave. One day the fear overwhelmed him, and in the time it took for one cab to go from the local noraebang to her apartment he talked about singing lessons, his mother's lunch habits, midnight radio, about trying to become a musician, as if having her hear everything important to him would assuage the burn of when she would inevitably leave.
She had smiled. The lines around her eyes made her beautiful.
"You try to act like an adult, but in the end your expectations are just like a child's.")
Byunghee hears him in the kitchen opening the refrigerator door, the stove being turned on. Changsun whistles the national anthem.
The smell of eggs is succeeded quickly by ash. Changsun comes back into the room armed with runny omelette and burnt toast and an apologetic smile, proclaiming It's the thought that counts as he slides himself back into the bed.
"What's with that? Are you trying to be cute?"
"Is it working?" Changsun asks, setting the food down on his lap. Byunghee recognises the flower in his hair from the bouquet Hyunjung sent him last week. He had burnt the note attached to it on the kitchen stove while making ramen the day after. I'm sorry about how things have gone with your group. Call soon.
"A little."
("I'll still love you guys forever and ever, you know that, right?" Sukyung brings her arms up and wraps them around their necks, pressing their cheeks towards her chest. The movement makes Hyunjung spill his drink, but at this point no one is worried about the mess. There are seven empty bottles of soju on the desk; from where he is Byunghee gestures towards the waiter for one more.
"My nose is up against your boob. I can't breathe."
"Yah, Byunghee." She kisses him messily on the forehead, laughing. "Don't say that as if you don't like it.")
"Today's the summer solstice, right? 21st of June."
"Who cares?" he asks. "Kiss me."
Byunghee is about to do as he's told, but then Changsun's phone goes off. The moment is lost. "It's Cheolyoung," he says, shoving his phone in front of Byunghee's face before flipping it open. "He just got back to the farm. He says his sister is berating him."
"Unlucky. Seungho told me his mom made him a big pot of kimchi ramen."
"Her food is the best," he says. Changsun's head falls onto his shoulder.
(They're watching themselves on TV.
"I can't believe you guys did that." Sanghyun slaps his thigh, looking over to Seungho and Changsun.
"I hope those noodles were worth it," Cbeolyong says. "Because Jihoonie-hyung is going to have your asses for breakfast once he sees this footage."
Seungho flicks the back of Cheolyong's head. "It'll be a nice change from having your ass for breakfast all the time."
For the entire episode Changsun is uncharacteristically quiet. From Byunghee's vantage point he sees him slide his arm around Seungho's waist. He smiles as if he has a secret.)
"Have you heard from Sanghyun?"
"No." Byunghee finishes his toast, staring at the wall as he speaks. Suddenly he feels his throat constrict.
"I think," he starts, and he hears his voice begin to break. "I think I invested more into this whole stupid group thing than I thought I did."
("This is just some lame thing idol groups do to look good on TV," Cheolyong says. Outside Byunghee hears screams, roaring, the chant of a name he's still not used to. Cheolyong's voice tremors. "But it can't do us any harm, can it?"
"Let's do it!" Changsun says, placing his hand on top of Cheolyong's, and Seungho follows suit. Byunghee is a sheep at heart. Out of all of them Sanghyun is the most composed; he's the last to join them, and when the warmth of his palm completes the hand pile Byunghee feels something surge in his chest.)