Remembering Sunday
Title: Remembering Sunday.
Rating: R, just to be safe.
Pairings: Yesung/Ryeowook.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of rape.
Word count: 748 words.
Disclaimer: Super Junior own themselves, I merely came up with the idea.
Beta: Rina~.
A/N: Written for sjpornathon's second challenge. The prompt was "Kink Grab Bag". As LJ is being a douche, please click on the title to read the fic, not the link underneath.
Ryeowook doesn't wake up when the door slams, or when Yesung stumbles through the room, drunk. He does, however, when loud sobs echoes against the tiled bathroom walls, escaping into the dark bedroom. Groggily, he gets out of bed, walking on wobbly feet towards the bathroom door; the strip of light pouring through the slightly open door guiding him.
Inside the bathroom he finds Yesung, on his knees by the toilet, his fingers white from how hard he's gripping the toilet bowl. Ryeowook winces when Yesung retches, vomit coming out of his mouth. This isn't the first time this had happened. Ryeowook hurries over to the sink, grabbing the first clean cloth he could find, wetting it slightly. He sinks down on his knees beside Yesung and places a cold, dry hand onto Yesung's cheek, wet with sweat.
“Hyung,” Ryeowook tries softly, patting Yesung's cheek. Slowly, Yesung pulls his head out of the toilet bowl and Ryeowook's heart breaks. Yesung's eyes swim in their sockets, dark circles around his eyes, his skin sallow and pasty, droplets of sweat resting on his upper lip and forehead. There's vomit on his chin, stuck to the sides of his black hair, and spots on his torn shirt. Yesung stares emptily at him.
“You shouldn't drink so much, hyung,” Ryeowook chides softly, running the cloth over Yesung's face. Ryeowook is deep in concentration, tugging at the dried vomit in Yesung's hair when he registers that Yesung is shaking. “Hyung, what's-”
Yesung proceeds to vomit again, this time over himself and Ryeowook's arms. The smell is overwhelming, violating his senses and Ryeowook feels bile rise in his own throat. He pulls himself hastily to his feet, trying to reach the sink when he's stopped by a hand around his wrist.
“Ryeowook-ah, don't,” Yesung pauses to cough and Ryeowook looks down at him. Ryeowook's entire body is aching because this is not his Yesung. He almost looks like a stranger, and Ryeowook really wants to go back to sleep, ignoring this person and wait for his Yesung to wake him up with soft kisses, calloused hands on his inner thighs. He does know, though, that he has to do this because this person will turn into his Yesung after a good amount of sleep.
“Don't leave me,” Yesung croaks pitifully, eyes swollen. Ryeowook's throat tightens and he tells Yesung that he won't; he's just going to fill the bathtub.
Five minutes later finds Yesung stripped naked, sinking into hot, mayweed scented water, as Ryeowook gets himself undressed. He turns his back briefly to Yesung to fold the remains of his vomit-free clothes when he hears a gasp coming from behind him, followed by the sounds of water. Ryeowook turns around to find Yesung standing in the bathtub, water dripping from his body. The sight would've turned Ryeowook on in a matter of seconds, but the expression on Yesung's face completely breaks the image. Yesung tilts his torso over, as far as he can go before falling out and grabs Ryeowook's waist, more or less pulling him into the bathtub, slamming his thighs against the porcelain of the tub.
“Hyung!” Ryeowook scolds, mouth pressed against Yesung's neck. Ryeowook frowns, but the frown quickly vanishes when he notices that Yesung's speaking. Only that he isn't, because he's crying, mumbling apologizes into Ryeowook's hair while one of his hands is running over a thin scar on the back of his neck, the other finding one of Ryeowook's hands.
“I'm sorry,” Yesung whispers against Ryeowook's hair, he repeats it over and over again for, Ryeowook doesn't know. All he does know is that he now knows why. The images that's running through Yesung's head at night, the images that makes him drink to forget is from the incident two weeks ago. Ryeowook knows because he's had the same images flashing through his brain at every hour of the day. He doesn't actually remember the whole incident because he was passed out a lot of the time due to the lack of air because his collar was too tight, but listening to Yesung's helpless screams from the closet while four former acquaintances of theirs were fucking Ryeowook on a shift was killing him. How long they were, Ryeowook really doesn't know. He doesn't want to.
“I'm sorry too, hyung,” Ryeowook says, a soft smile playing on his lips as he shuts Yesung up with a kiss, their 'd' and 's' necklaces entwining together.
----
A/N: I'm back!!1! OTL. I haven't posted a fic since October because I've had such a big writer's block. I still have it, but I found something to post and I'll have another fic ready as soon as it's betaed. That's a good thing right? ^^
No, I can't write angst as you see.
Rating: R, just to be safe.
Pairings: Yesung/Ryeowook.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of rape.
Word count: 748 words.
Disclaimer: Super Junior own themselves, I merely came up with the idea.
Beta: Rina~.
A/N: Written for sjpornathon's second challenge. The prompt was "Kink Grab Bag". As LJ is being a douche, please click on the title to read the fic, not the link underneath.
Ryeowook doesn't wake up when the door slams, or when Yesung stumbles through the room, drunk. He does, however, when loud sobs echoes against the tiled bathroom walls, escaping into the dark bedroom. Groggily, he gets out of bed, walking on wobbly feet towards the bathroom door; the strip of light pouring through the slightly open door guiding him.
Inside the bathroom he finds Yesung, on his knees by the toilet, his fingers white from how hard he's gripping the toilet bowl. Ryeowook winces when Yesung retches, vomit coming out of his mouth. This isn't the first time this had happened. Ryeowook hurries over to the sink, grabbing the first clean cloth he could find, wetting it slightly. He sinks down on his knees beside Yesung and places a cold, dry hand onto Yesung's cheek, wet with sweat.
“Hyung,” Ryeowook tries softly, patting Yesung's cheek. Slowly, Yesung pulls his head out of the toilet bowl and Ryeowook's heart breaks. Yesung's eyes swim in their sockets, dark circles around his eyes, his skin sallow and pasty, droplets of sweat resting on his upper lip and forehead. There's vomit on his chin, stuck to the sides of his black hair, and spots on his torn shirt. Yesung stares emptily at him.
“You shouldn't drink so much, hyung,” Ryeowook chides softly, running the cloth over Yesung's face. Ryeowook is deep in concentration, tugging at the dried vomit in Yesung's hair when he registers that Yesung is shaking. “Hyung, what's-”
Yesung proceeds to vomit again, this time over himself and Ryeowook's arms. The smell is overwhelming, violating his senses and Ryeowook feels bile rise in his own throat. He pulls himself hastily to his feet, trying to reach the sink when he's stopped by a hand around his wrist.
“Ryeowook-ah, don't,” Yesung pauses to cough and Ryeowook looks down at him. Ryeowook's entire body is aching because this is not his Yesung. He almost looks like a stranger, and Ryeowook really wants to go back to sleep, ignoring this person and wait for his Yesung to wake him up with soft kisses, calloused hands on his inner thighs. He does know, though, that he has to do this because this person will turn into his Yesung after a good amount of sleep.
“Don't leave me,” Yesung croaks pitifully, eyes swollen. Ryeowook's throat tightens and he tells Yesung that he won't; he's just going to fill the bathtub.
Five minutes later finds Yesung stripped naked, sinking into hot, mayweed scented water, as Ryeowook gets himself undressed. He turns his back briefly to Yesung to fold the remains of his vomit-free clothes when he hears a gasp coming from behind him, followed by the sounds of water. Ryeowook turns around to find Yesung standing in the bathtub, water dripping from his body. The sight would've turned Ryeowook on in a matter of seconds, but the expression on Yesung's face completely breaks the image. Yesung tilts his torso over, as far as he can go before falling out and grabs Ryeowook's waist, more or less pulling him into the bathtub, slamming his thighs against the porcelain of the tub.
“Hyung!” Ryeowook scolds, mouth pressed against Yesung's neck. Ryeowook frowns, but the frown quickly vanishes when he notices that Yesung's speaking. Only that he isn't, because he's crying, mumbling apologizes into Ryeowook's hair while one of his hands is running over a thin scar on the back of his neck, the other finding one of Ryeowook's hands.
“I'm sorry,” Yesung whispers against Ryeowook's hair, he repeats it over and over again for, Ryeowook doesn't know. All he does know is that he now knows why. The images that's running through Yesung's head at night, the images that makes him drink to forget is from the incident two weeks ago. Ryeowook knows because he's had the same images flashing through his brain at every hour of the day. He doesn't actually remember the whole incident because he was passed out a lot of the time due to the lack of air because his collar was too tight, but listening to Yesung's helpless screams from the closet while four former acquaintances of theirs were fucking Ryeowook on a shift was killing him. How long they were, Ryeowook really doesn't know. He doesn't want to.
“I'm sorry too, hyung,” Ryeowook says, a soft smile playing on his lips as he shuts Yesung up with a kiss, their 'd' and 's' necklaces entwining together.
----
A/N: I'm back!!1! OTL. I haven't posted a fic since October because I've had such a big writer's block. I still have it, but I found something to post and I'll have another fic ready as soon as it's betaed. That's a good thing right? ^^
No, I can't write angst as you see.