(no subject)
Step One || jiyong/taeyang/seungri ||
Because it's not that he hates Taeyang, it's that he hates Taeyang and Seungri.
“When I grow up I want to stay in bed all day and drink strawberry daiquiris with umbrellas and sing songs.”
Seungri laughs, his stupid, drunk laugh that rattles in Jiyong’s heart.
“You’ll be there too, hyung. We’ll have a glass roof so we can see the clouds and we’ll have these big pillows so we can pretend we’re in heaven and we can kiss. For one day I just want to kiss. All day. You’ll be there too, hyung.”
The room was bright with the sun and the summer and the breeze and everything else in Jiyong’s life that wasn’t fucked up.
“And we’ll only eat candy. But we’ll never get fat because the birds will fly for us.”
He laughs again and Jiyong leans back on the bed, entwines his fingers with Seungri’s and imagines. “What about Taeyang?”
“Taeyang will be there as well. He’ll kiss me and you’ll watch.”
Jiyong imagines.
Taeyang’s laugh is soft and sleepy and Jiyong had almost forgotten he was there, curled up around Seungri’s back, all warm smiles and moist lips. Almost forgot, mostly wanted to.
“And we’ll never be sad because we’ll always be together and we’ll never have to leave our bed. Would you like that, hyung?”
Jiyong doesn’t know who Seungri’s talking to. Taeyang answers, his voice mumbled against Seungri’s collarbone. “I’d love that, sweetie.”
“We’ll be famous ‘cause we’ll write our own songs and we’ll put them on the radio and everyone’ll want to see us but we’ll tell them we can’t.”
“Then they won’t see how pretty you are, baby.”
Seungri giggled at Taeyang’s whispers and Jiyong kisses his fingers. “They’ll never see our gorgeous baby.”
-----
Jiyong watched as Seungri leant over Taeyang’s body, as Taeyang’s hands framed Seungri’s hips, as they laughed and laughed and kissed and kissed. It was all so beautiful and lovely.
He drowned himself in liquor and made love to Seungri all night long in his mind’s eye with Taeyang watching.
He was almost in a good mood. He was mostly drunk.
------
Jiyong curled his lips around the cigarette and blew the smoke through his nose with long-practised ease. Taeyang coughed and Jiyong almost laughed, didn’t hide it, laughed.
“You’d think you’d get used to it by now, Tae.”
“You think you’d have quit by now, Ji.”
Jiyong rolled his eyes, made a deal of breathing in the poison and turned to look at the other boy. “Why would I do that? If it kills me, it kills me. I’m sure heaven wouldn’t be that bad.”
“Seungri’s not in heaven.”
“He will be sometime. I’m patient.”
-----
The school bell rung and Taeyang rose to his feet, stretched, yawned, smiled. Jiyong kind of hated him. Mostly hated him. Hated him.
Jiyong closes his eyes, crosses his ankles and smokes his fag as students begin to shuffle past them, all wondering, questioning, whispering; they’re waiting for Seunghyun. you know, that weird one. i always thought he was strange. Blah, blah, blah. Blab, blab, blab. Jiyong pretty much hated school children.
“Kwon Jiyong, what are you doing smoking? I thought you told me you’d quit that? I’m very disappointed in you.”
Jiyong grins, the cigarette held between his teeth as he smiles up at Seungri. “Want a taste?”
The boy leans over him, his lips upturned and his eyes sparkling and Jiyong is mostly in love. In love with the way Seungri kisses Taeyang on the cheek and Jiyong on the lips. In love with Seungri, and in love with being in love with him. He blows smoke against Seungri’s smile and is in love with the way Seungri laughs, the way he opens his mouth, the way they kiss through the mist of acid.
He was mostly in love and mostly happy and had mostly forgotten that Taeyang was there with them, holding Seungri’s bag, his hand, being his boyfriend.
“Maknae, how was your day at school?” Taeyang questions, with his perfect voice and his perfect smile.
Mostly forgot. Not really. Mostly in love. In love.
------
Jiyong makes love to Seungri while Taeyang takes a shower and for a moment they’re perfect. It’s quick and it’s passionate and at the end Jiyong feels like maybe he’s lost something but more like he’s gained something.
Seungri whispers his love against Jiyong’s lips and then, later that evening when they’re curled together in bed, whispers the same words against Taeyang’s cock. Jiyong pretends that he doesn’t hurt as much as he does, pretends that he does. Pretends. Hurts.
Seungri falls asleep in Taeyang’s tight embrace and the problem with Taeyang, Jiyong figures, is that he’s perfect, and maybe it’s this fact that hurts more than anything else. How can he live up to perfection? How can he even come close?
-----
Taeyang makes love to Seungri, Taeyang screws Seungri, Taeyang fucks Seungri and Jiyong watches with his eyes closed. The soft moans, the barely-there whispers, the stick of sweaty skin. The sheets cling to his body, to Seungri’s, to Taeyang’s and they fall asleep in a bundle of limbs and broken hearts and maybe love.
-----
Their phone line had been cut some time ago, two weeks, three weeks, four weeks, so Jiyong receives the call on his cell-phone. He’s confused and he’s worried, but mostly he’s asleep and he’s annoyed.
He makes his way down to Seungri’s school in a pair of loose sweatpants and mismatched slippers and needs to ask for direction from three separate students. The office is small and smells like wet carpet and reminds him of why he dropped out of school. Seungri sits on the only seat, his feet swinging, his lips humming, his face the picture of practised innocence and maybe something else.
He rolls his eyes and smacks Seungri’s head and walks toward the office desk. “I’m here to pick this up,” he says with a grin and nod in Seungri’s direction. “Where do I have to sign off?”
The woman is old and severe and everything clichéd about office-patrons and Jiyong maybe giggles. “Are you a legal guardian?”
“That depends on what you mean when you say legal guardian. I give him his allowance if that’s what you mean.”
“Sir, protocol clearly states-”
“Listen, you can try and find his mother, or hell, his father, but unless you want him sleeping on that chair for the next few weeks I suggest you let him go with me. I’m about the only thing he’s got at the moment and you don’t really care about whether or not I’m his legal guardian, you care about your ass. So don’t feed me this bullshit about protocol, alright? You woke me; I’m almost hung-over and mostly tired. So, please. Just have me sign the damn thing so I can leave.”
He smiles and he charms and the woman is more shocked than anything else.
Jiyong is pretty much not shocked when he gets chucked out onto the side-walk. At least he’d remembered to bring his smokes, he figures.
Seungri’s school called me up. They wouldn’t let me take him home. ?
Taeyang replies a second later and Jiyong pauses a moment to take another drag of his cigarette, he thumbs open the message and pretends to not get annoyed by the little tae <3 Seungri had entered on his phone some Wednesday night after a few something’s and a few something else’s.
Do you know what kind of trouble he’s in?
It’s not that he hates Taeyang, it’s that he hates Taeyang and Seungri.
No. I got kicked out.
Taeyang doesn’t respond and Jiyong mostly doesn’t care. Because it’s not that he hates Taeyang, it’s that he hates Seungri and Taeyang.
Jiyong falls asleep on the side-walk before Seungri’s school with a collection of cigarette butts and a head-full of Jiyong and Seungri’s.
------
When he wakes he has a crick in his neck and Seungri’s head against his shoulder and the moon is bright in the sky. Seungri kisses his neck in greeting and draws imaginary patterns on his pant-leg and it’s perfect, and it’s just the two of them, and it’s the sweet summer evening and Jiyong never wants to go home.
There are six missed calls and a series of texts waiting for him, though.
He carries Seungri home on his back, listens to the boy’s whispers in his ear, and shuts his eyes to Taeyang’s questioning glare when they arrive on the doorstep.
------
It’s three in the afternoon, it’s three in the afternoon on a Wednesday and Seungri is beautiful in Taeyang’s apron and Taeyang’s shirt and Jiyong’s socks and Jiyong watches them and smiles.
Because it’s perfect the way Seungri laughs, the way his fingers curl around Taeyang’s neck, the way he rocks up onto his toes and kisses at lips and cheeks and chins. It’s perfect the way Taeyang’s hands embrace Seungri’s skinny waist, the curve of his hips, the rise of his ass. It’s all perfect and Jiyong forgets to breathe properly ‘cause it’s all just so fucking perfect.
Jiyong pours himself a cup of black coffee and drinks it boiling ‘cause it’s all just so fucking perfect and he doesn’t want to ruin it with the jealousy that’s scratching scars up his throat.
Perfect. Mostly broken, mostly burnt.
------
“I love him, you know?” Taeyang says and it’s awkward and Jiyong wishes Seungri was awake to laugh and joke and be the glue that sticks the three of them together.
“I know.”
“And I don’t hate you. Do you know that?”
“I do. Sometimes I hate you, though.”
Taeyang is silent. “Sometimes I hate you as well.”
“I love him. I really love him.”
Taeyang nods and it’s as if they were negotiating a deal, coming to a compromise.
Jiyong speaks again. “I think I hate that he loves you.”
Taeyang watches him; his lips pursed, his eyes blank. “And I hate that he loves you.”
There’s a white flag, an offer of peace and Jiyong doesn’t know how to respond.
“Fucking Lee Seunghyun,” he murmurs.
Taeyang laughs. “Amen to that.”
-----
Seungri giggles and grins and grinds the stub of his cigarette into the cement, he’s beautiful and he’s broken and Jiyong is so madly in like (in love) that he sees stars and his world spins backwards, maybe.
The sand is coarse between his fingers and toes and the spray of the sea cool against his cheeks, like tears of lost nights and lonely mornings.
“Maknae,” Taeyang begins, and Jiyong almost doesn’t mind, “what happened at school last week?”
Seungri rolls the ends of his jeans up in careful loops before leaning over to pluck the smoke from between Jiyong’s lips with deft fingers, he twists his head, his lips and breathes in the toxins. “They didn’t like my answer.”
“Who didn’t like what answer?”
“The geese didn’t like the ugly-ducklings answer.”
It’s an answer and it’s not and Jiyong’s tongue craves something sweet and strong, something to make him forget and remember, to sleep and dream.
Taeyang doesn’t understand. “You could try and make sense, you know? Novel idea.”
Seungri laughs, a high, giddy laugh that sounds like cocaine and sherbet. “We were writing poems in English. They didn’t believe my he’s were supposed to be he’s and not she’s. They thought I was joking because I was laughing. I told them I was laughing because I was crying.”
He jumps to his feet, his arms held wide as he begins a blind-man’s waddle down to the shore line. Taeyang watches him and Jiyong imagines him and they’re linked in their emotions and Jiyong mostly doesn’t mind, doesn’t hate.
“The water is beautiful,” Seungri screams into the darkness, his hands cupped around his mouth and his back arched. The water was beautiful, Seungri was gorgeous.
He dances in the swell and it’s mesmerizing. It’s everything else used to describe the stars, the galaxy, the universe. The moon is golden against the ocean, the night air crisp with autumn breeze and the boy dances as if to drums and trumpets and the king’s-parade. His arms held high, his head held higher, he kicks and jumps and throws mirrors of water into the night-sky. His smile is wide, his heart wider and Taeyang laughs while Jiyong smiles.
With his eyes closed, Jiyong’s imaginations are no more brilliant than the reality.
-----
“I’ve got some mad ideas, involving you and me.”
They fall asleep in the back seat of Jiyong’s car, their limbs twisted and sandy, and the gentle hum of the radio playing its backing-track into the night. Taeyang kisses Seungri’s hip, his knee, his thigh. He kisses Jiyong’s shoulder and Jiyong’s heart races marathons in his chest. Taeyang kisses Jiyong’s cheek and Seungri smiles as he watches.
Jiyong kisses Taeyang and it’s not perfect. But Seungri smiles and Jiyong thinks that maybe it could be.
“This could be love for fire, forever more.”
-----
Rent’s due.
Rent’s due and Taeyang catches a cold after working fifty-five hours this week. Rent’s due and Jiyong perhaps feels like a failure. Like maybe he failed their messed-up little family routine. Like maybe more people relied on him than he thought and like maybe he let them down.
Seungri doesn’t cry but he uses words like dropping-out and full-time job and pulling-his-weight. Jiyong’s heart aches for the smiles and laughs he misses, for the frown on Seungri’s lips that looks so out-of-place it makes him sick.
Taeyang kisses Seungri’s cheeks and sends the boy to bed. A messed-up child with his messed-up mother. Jiyong doesn’t feel worthy of the title messed-up father. He lost a part of that title every time he let Taeyang leave for work without wishing him good-luck, every time he took Taeyang’s money, their rent money, and drunk, drunk, drunk it away.
“Quit worrying, Ji. We have some saved, we’ll make rent.”
“I’m sorry.”
Taeyang smiles, a thin, worn smile that tells stories of hacking coughs and over-time. A smile that is still wary of Jiyong and of Jiyong’s thoughts and of Jiyong and Seungri. “You’re forgiven.”
The jealousy now hides behind a thin mask of pretends and a willingness to try, and perhaps Jiyong doesn’t mind as much anymore.
The next day he spends his last few cents photo-copying his resume at a local newsagency. The pages read of his pathetic life, in-complete schooling, in-complete life, in-complete Kwon Jiyong. A string of past jobs link together one after the other, while reference after reference quote phone-numbers that probably don’t exist anymore.
He hands them out, he hands them out with broken smiles and hopes for the best.
He checks his cell-phone thirteen times on his way home, checking the battery, checking the reception. He can’t miss this call.
------
Dinner is waiting for him when he gets home. Seungri is waiting for him when he gets home. Seungri’s arms around his neck, Seungri’s kiss on his lips, Seungri tip-toes stepping on his shoes.
“Welcome home,” he murmurs against Jiyong’s lips with a gentle smile.
“Honey, I’m home.”
-----
He gets a job at a back-street record store during the week and at a grocery-market every second Sunday. Each of his bosses laughs at his ridiculous hair, neither tells him to remove his ear-rings and both are under the age of thirty. He thinks he’s done alright.
Seungri kisses his smile with one of his own and decides on take-away as celebration. Taeyang grins and coughs and grins and coughs and Jiyong smiles back and, for a moment, it doesn’t seem forced.
-----
Jiyong had been quite content with his life, he enjoyed waking up whenever, he enjoyed kissing Seungri asleep at two-am and kissing him awake at two-pm, late for school, late for school. He enjoyed having no responsibilities, it was fun, it was free, it was why he ran away from home.
Work-life destroyed that.
Nine-am starts destroyed that. Nine-am starts also brought him Seunghyun and Seunghyun, Jiyong reckons, is not all bad. The boy is tall and handsome and slightly insane and has a voice that Jiyong thinks was made for promising dirty secrets in the dark. He’s pretty awesome. And maybe Jiyong doesn’t mind nine-am starts as much as he thought he would.
Seunghyun doesn’t care what Jiyong does, what he wears, what he says to customers. Seunghyun has a gorgeous girlfriend and is working at the store ‘cause his mum knows the owner and because he needs money to pay for university. He wears his slippers to work and sings along with music they play and is generally everything Jiyong loves.
Seunghyun is the third person to laugh at Jiyong’s jokes and perhaps Jiyong isn’t entirely ready for that.
Seunghyun comes over for dinner and Seungri (Seunghyun) steals his scarf with the practised maknae art of coy and charm. Taeyang scolds him the following morning and Jiyong finds is mostly hilarious.
“You’re boyfriend stole me scarf,” Seunghyun accuses on the following Monday and Jiyong mostly just grins.
“He likes scarves.”
Seunghyun is eating a bagel and reading Jane Austen. Jiyong is amused and bemused and very, very at ease.
“So what’s up with you three anyway?”
Jiyong can hear the cautious steps of Seunghyun’s question. He knows their, Taeyang and Seungri and his, relationship is not commonplace. “It’s kinda like a three-way thing.”
Seunghyun glances up, his face blank, as if searching for the punch-line. Jiyong isn’t joking anymore. “Oh. And that... works, does it?”
Jiyong is silent and the bell rings shrill in his ears as a customer enters the store. It’s raining outside and he remembers suddenly that he forgot his umbrella. “It works well enough.”
Seunghyun takes another bite of his breakfast and waves his hands in greeting at the school-boy shuffling between their cramped aisles. “How do you deal with the jealousy?”
“I hated Taeyang. I hated him a lot. That’s how I dealt with it.”
Seunghyun is surprised by the passion of Jiyong’s words and the passionless tone of his voice. “Do you hate him still?”
Jiyong pauses, his mind a blur of yes and no. “He said something to me a few weeks back. He said I love him. He loves Seungri. And that makes me kinda not hate him, you know? I- I really like Seungri, he means... everything to me. And I can’t... begrudge Taeyang for feeling that way as well. I know how hard it is to not fall in love with Seungri. So, no, I don’t really hate him still. I don’t think.”
“That must make for one fucked-up relationship.”
Jiyong laughs. “We’re some pretty fucked-up people.”
The customer makes his way up to the counter as Seunghyun finishes his food. Jiyong’s smile is warm and welcoming, and somewhere deep in his chest his heart beats.
-----
Seunghyun brings Daesung over to their flat one Friday evening with a bottle of his mother’s home-made spiced wine and calls it a boy’s night in. Daesung is a high school voice-coach, has the smile of an angel and worries over Seungri’s under-age drinking.
He takes one look at Seungri curled between Taeyang’s legs and their obvious use of a single-bedroom and smiles, smiles, smiles.
He helps Jiyong with the dishes and organizes their crockery cupboards while he’s at it and Jiyong mostly just laughs.
“Seunghyun was telling me you write your own songs?”
“Seunghyun was exaggerating.”
Daesung murmurs his laugh low in his throat, his eyes crinkled and his cheeks dimpled. “Seunghyun likes to exaggerate his friends.”
Jiyong nods as he rinses his soapy hands under cool water.
“Seungri is wonderful, and smart,” Daesung continues. “He’s very smart.”
“If by smart you mean conniving, yeah.”
Daesung’s smile is bright. “He seems to love you very much, both of you.”
Jiyong dries his hands, passes the towel to Daesung to do the same. “We love him back.”
------
“I have a better idea for when I grow up,” Seungri says as the breeze of their bedroom sends their white curtains into a flutter.
“What’s that?”
“When I grow up I want to form a band, with me and you both and Seunghyun-hyung and Daesung-hyung. It’ll be the best band Korea has ever seen, the world has ever seen, and we’ll all be best friends and Daesung-hyung can be our voice coach. We’ll be so famous that when we retire we can all just stay in bed for the rest of our lives.”
“And kiss, for one day?”
“Yes,” Seungri grins. “Maybe we’ll have to bring Seunghyun-hyung’s girlfriend though.”
“And that waitress Daesung fancies.”
“But we’ll be there, us three. And I’ll kiss you and Taeyang all day. We’ll be perfect.”
“Perfect.”
“And maybe one day, you’ll kiss Taeyang.”
Jiyong is silent, watching the gentle rub of Taeyang’s hand against Seungri’s hip. “Maybe one day,” he answers, meeting Taeyang’s gaze with a moment’s pause.
Maybe one day soon.
He was almost in love. He was mostly in love. He was in love.
------
(Hi! I was wondering if anyone’d like to drop me any story-requests they may have. A line you want, a scene you can imagine, a theme? It’d be great if you didn’t just say angst, maybe if you said jealous-angst, drunken-angst, one-sided-angst, cheating-angst, you know? I just love the idea of writing something that someone else can appreciate, smile over. Thanks! If you choose not to, thanks for reading!)