sticks and stones can break my bones, but your words will be the death of me (oneshot)
Author: Star_Sarang
Myungsoo-centric, MyungJong, WooJong, implied!WooGyu | Onshot | angst, romance
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7, 840
Warning(s): cursing, smut
Summary: Love was found; love was lost-he was lost. And now what else could he do other than live his life as a shadow following and protecting the one he loved? Reliving the memories…
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Sticks don’t usually hurt when they’re thrown, especially metaphorical sticks, but when they were thrown by your enemy and your wish-to-be lover, it smarted. The first stick didn’t hurt much because he’d already mentally prepared himself for it. Who couldn’t see it? Even Dongwoo wasn’t surprised.
“We’re dating!!!” Woohyun shouted, bouncing around the living room with Sungjong in his arms.
The small hints of disapproval and jealousy spreading through the members did not escape Myungsoo’s keen senses. It seemed that no one was comfortable with the maknae and the grease dating. Sungyeol side glanced at Myungsoo, still worried over the many months of depression and heartache Myungsoo had gone through. Hoya and Dongwoo were discussing in hushed tones about Sungjong’s choice of mate as Sunggyu opted to silently glare at the couple prancing around the room. Myungsoo, stone faced, only stared at the boy he wished were his own lover, prancing around the room in jubilee; however, what the other members failed to notice was that Sungjong had a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He’d not spoken since he’d entered the room; his lips were pressed tightly together; his eyebrows were furrowed; his jaw was set tightly; his gaze wandered everywhere but Woohyun’s face; and Woohyun was actually the one spinning around, not Sungjong. Myungsoo concluded that Sungjong felt uncomfortable with the announcement of their relationship.
That was not the stick to be thrown though. Myungsoo sensed it coming when Woohyun deliberately glared straight at him. His eyes seemed to say, “Watch me, because I’m going to make your life hell.” And Myungsoo fell for his subliminal message like a slow witted fool. The younger winced as he watched Woohyun’s and Sungjong’s lips lock together as they tangled together in a mess on the couch. The action did not breech his heart encased in layers and layers of mental protection, but it did cause him to wince, instantly turning his face away. Electricity rippled across his skin as he felt anger and jealousy boil in his blood.
Sungyeol had noticed Myungsoo’s discomfort and hauled him away. And so the first twig of significant yet petty strings of nonverbal insults and treatment begins an unnecessary war, Myungsoo thought to himself. He scoffed to himself. I think too much.
However, it was when he and Sungjong were left alone one day that Myungsoo solidly acknowledged the fact that he was too wrapped up in his thoughts.
Sungjong was sitting on the couch, quietly watching TV. Myungsoo had been spying nearby behind the wall that ran between the living room and the hallways leading to the bedrooms. It wasn’t until Sunggyu announced that everyone was going to go clubbing, that he finally, hesitantly, sat next to Sungjong on the couch; however, Myungsoo, not being a party person, stayed behind with Sungjong, who was underage.
“Don’t spy on my boyfriend all night,” Woohyun had hissed in his ear before leaving. “If you touch him, I’ll rip you to shreds in many ways. He’s mine.”
The vocalist shivered at the memory of Woohyun’s growled threat.
“Myungsoo hyung,” Sungjong said softly, clutching a fluffy pillow to his chest. “Are you okay?”
L stared at him for a long time before saying, “What?”
“Hyung, do you want to do something… unfaithful with me?”
The older cocked his head. “What are you talking about-“
“Kiss me.”
His eyes widened. “But aren’t you-“
“Do you want to kiss me or not?”
“I… I…” Yes… Hell yes! Myungsoo thought. But another part of his mind told him, You can’t. Woohyun’s threat. He could do terrible things: destroy your career using just words on broadcasts, completely tear you apart on variety shows, reveal your secrets on radio. Woohyun is more powerful than you. And the immorality of it all. You can’t do it. You can’t kiss Sungjong, the one Woohyun has forbidden you to even touch. You can’t. You can’t.
“I can’t…”
Sungjong turned to face his hyung. “What do you mean you can’t? It’s simple. You’ve done it before!”
“That was before… before…” Before Woohyun came along and claimed you.
“Before what? And what does that matter to you!? You’ve kissed me before, without my permission and…” The boy paused, standing up and exhaling a breath. “Forget it.”
Myungsoo watched the young boy walk away with the pillow between his arms and chest, but he never took his eyes off of the boy, even after he disappeared down the hallway into his own room. Dazed, many seconds passed until it had accumulated into minutes, and still, L had no idea what had just happened. It was true that he could’ve-would’ve-kissed Sungjong right then and there, even without permission, so what had happened in the time between their first kiss together in the park to now in the silence of their dorm.
Nam Woohyun.
It wasn’t just that Woohyun was the only problem, but he was the nub of all of Myungsoo’s dilemmas. Woohyun was the reason he couldn’t sit next to Sungjong; couldn’t hold him, hug him, kiss him; couldn’t even have a proper conversation with him. Nam Woohyun was the reason why Myungsoo and Sungjong’s relationship had dwindled and caused Myungsoo so much heartache. The other vocalist of Infinite was not just another regular person to Myungsoo. He was his rival for as long as Sungjong sided with him. Woohyun was evil in Myungsoo’s eyes, always hindering him in everything he did and wanted and in his love life, always degrading him, and always stealing things that should’ve been L’s. But above all, Woohyun struck fear into the icy heart of Infinite’s visual.
Kim Myungsoo was afraid of Woohyun, which is why he unconsciously refused to kiss Sungjong, who was Woohyun’s property. Though he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, Myungsoo knew that this was the reason to that night’s hesitance.
A few weeks later, Myungsoo should’ve expected this, but, for some odd reason, it shocked him more than hurt him. Hairspray, makeup brushes, powder, and women were all over the place. It wasn’t often they got this chance, but it happened more often now-photo shoots.
Myungsoo, despite the fact that he really liked clothing, found no interest in the mute colored apparel today. He slipped on whatever they gave him, had them style his hair however, and posed in front of the camera with his other members. Dongwoo was light and bouncy. Hoya seemed a bit tensed, but lightly amused by Dongwoo’s childlike self. Sunggyu was being his usual self-professional. Sungyeol had no idea what he was doing. What concerned Myungsoo was that Woohyun and Sungjong were by themselves at the opposite end of the photo shoot line, giggling blissfully and acting in that greasy way that only Woohyun could accomplish but somehow had passed onto Sungjong. Why Myungsoo would watch the couple be all lovey dovey with each other even though it tore his heart to shreds was a mystery to him. He felt compelled to watch; with the fear of Woohyun’s threat on his mind and the constant worry of Sungjong’s emotional, physical, and mental wellbeing, Myungsoo felt obliged to observe every move the pair took, together and apart. He was to analyze their actions, words, and-if he could guess them right-their thoughts.
He did not find it out of the ordinary when the photographer called for couple shots, but it surprised him that he’d paired him with Sungjong. What stunned Myungsoo even further was the fact that Sungjong had barely glanced back at Woohyun before stepping up next to Myungsoo; Woohyun, on the other hand, was frowning, a scowl so disapproving that it left wrinkles on his forehead.
“This isn’t working,” the photographer finally said after taking a few stiff shots. He called Myungsoo out of the shot and put in Woohyun, someone less hard faced and cuter.
This is where Myungsoo felt he should’ve torn that greasy bastard to smithereens.
“That’s good, Woohyun! Put your arms around Sungjong’s waist, like a backhug!” the photographer encouraged and he lifted the camera.
Only two clicks from the camera sounded before Myungsoo’s blood ran cold as he eyed the hand squeezing Sungjong’s cock; it had lasted no more than four seconds though. L even noticed the small smirk on Woohyun’s face as Sungjong’s paled a bit, and even the way Woohyun’s lips moved ever so slightly, obviously whispering dirty words into the maknae’s ear. And the young boy took it. He had heard every sensual murmur of Woohyun’s sexual desires and promises; he had felt the hand holding his clothed manhood; but most of all, Sungjong had sensed Myungsoo’s piercing eyes watching their interactions.
With a sharp glare at Myungsoo, Sungjong grinned slyly, a sign that Woohyun could give him what Myungsoo feared to do, and then walked off the scene as their managers told them it was time to change and leave. This small incident wouldn’t have been as significant if it had occurred in the dorms, but having it happen out in the open, with people other than just the Infinite members and the managers, it was unthinkable, something Myungsoo would’ve never thought they’d do.
He still remembered Sungjong as an innocent angel, untainted, even despite the fact that he knew the boy had more sexual experiences than he now. In the car, the visual had thought about all of his past conversations with Infinite’s maknae, yet the only one that struck him at the moment was their talk about beauty.
“I always thought pretty people should have lots of pictures taken of them. It’s the best way to preserve them.”
“There are lots of pretty people; go take pictures of them, not me. I have enough pictures of myself from all the photo shoots and stuff.”
“But not all people are beautiful inside and out. I dated some girl. But after we broke up, I saw on TV that she’d died of drug overdose and I thought, ‘That was never beauty then. Everything about her is ugly.’”
And yet, as Myungsoo mentally flipped through his collection of photos, he wondered why he didn’t find Sungjong ugly at all. He was far from innocent now. He’d kissed and been kissed, just like Myungsoo; and knew the trades and tricks of sexual pleasure. In the bedroom, he was more experienced than L. Sungjong was only short of drugs and he would’ve been at the same level of corruption as Myungsoo, yet despite the fact that Sungjong had engaged in coitus and could possibly become a successful prostitute, L did not find him any less beautiful, internally or externally.
Staring out the car window, he stifled a small chuckle as he remembered his last visit home.
“Love is blind. Love is fucking blind, Mom.” And wasn’t that the truth.
The dance room was Myungsoo’s escape from the other members. He sat facing the glass mirrors, a professional camera in his hands. It was his camera, the same camera that had taken countless pictures of Sungjong’s beauty and had witnessed the few moments in which the two had shared intimacy. Will this camera live to take another picture of my beloved? Myungsoo asked himself grimly. Or will it collect dust on my shelves with all the other memories?
He lifted the camera, focusing the lens through the mirror, and just as the door to the dance room opened, he snapped a picture, the light reflecting off the mirror.
“Dammit! Myungsoo!” the newcomer screamed as he rubbed his sore eyes, blinded by the flash.
“Sorry,” he said in monotone, busy glaring at the recent picture. It was perfect until Nam Woohyun had shown up. “What are you here for?” Myungsoo asked while standing up, camera in hand and internally glad that his grim hatred for Woohyun had allowed him to boldly use informality with his archenemy.
“Nothing,” Woohyun growled. “Just thought to rub in your face the fact that I took Sungjong to the park.”
Myungsoo winced. Three times he’d taken Sungjong to the park for ice cream, and each time his feelings had been suppressed or rejected by the unexpectedly fierce maknae. “You’re a bastard,” L snarled.
“Like you aren’t one too,” Woohyun bit back, stepping closer to Myungsoo. “But here’s the difference, dongsaeng. I’m a bastard who has a boyfriend and a sex toy, and you’re a bastard who only has a camera, memories, and a broken heart.”
As Woohyun reached out to him, L stiffened in posture. When the older grasped his camera, he tightened his hold, only to be kicked in the shin by his hyung. Myungsoo fell to the floor, clutching his leg as Woohyun cackled, sifting through the many photos on Myungsoo’s high tech camera.
“This camera,” Woohyun said mockingly, “is the only thing you have with Sungjong. I intend to sever all connections you have with my boyfriend.”
Myungsoo turned his head away as Woohyun slammed the expensive device into the floorboards, the glass shattering and several pieces flying across the room.
“What the hell!? What is Sungjong to you?!” Myungsoo screamed in frustration, staggering to his feet again.
“He’s a sex toy, an outlet for my sexual tensions and frustrations; other than that, he’s a loving dongsaeng,” he answered casually. “But I intend to leave him in the end.”
“Why is Sungjong with you of all people?! You’ll just break his heart!” Myungsoo snarled.
“Grease and bastards are the new thing, Myungsoo,” Woohyun said giddily. “The boy is my tool. When I’m done with him, you’ll know.”
“Why would you throw him away!?”
Woohyun shrugged. “He’s just a toy.”
“You’re a fucking bastard!” L screamed, voice echoing off the walls and a few tears rolling down his cheeks. “You don’t care about Sungjong, but he believes you so fucking badly because he likes you! And you’re a fucking idiot for stringing him along.”
“I’m not an idiot, Myungsoo,” Woohyun growled, pushing the younger back onto the floor. “I know what I’m doing to him. And I know that once I break his heart, he’ll go to you, and knowing you, you won’t turn the boy away, so you’ll be fixing his broken heart, not me. It’s not my problem. And besides, I’m also doing this just to spite you.”
“You’re… heartless… What’s wrong with you?”
Woohyun kicked the wounded boy viciously in the ribs. “Nothing at all.” He scoffed and turned on his heels to leave. “You’re just too softhearted to get what you want.”
Myungsoo wiped his tears once he heard the door slam shut. Picking up his ruined piece of equipment, he turned on the camera, surprised that it still worked, and started looking through his pictures again. There was a crack in the digital screen, but he ignored it until he gazed upon his most recent photo, the one he took right as Woohyun had walked into the room.
That photo had been perfect until Woohyun came into the room. His life was fine before Woohyun inserted himself forcefully into it. Everything was under control until Woohyun stirred up the wind. Myungsoo glared at the digital screen, observing the photo. The crack in the screen ran though the screen, slicing almost diagonally from top to bottom, severing the picture in half, one side displaying Myungsoo holding up the camera while taking a picture while the other side showed Woohyun walking through the door. One day, Myungsoo thought, we’ll both go our separate ways and never have to speak to each other again.
But that day was far, far away.
Ranking King… What does that even mean? Myungsoo furrowed his eyebrows as he stood next to-God forbid he say the name-Woohyun in order of what the producers called “likability.” How the hell could Woohyun be number one? Glancing down the line, Myungsoo was furious to see that Sungjong was placed last, but his usually poker ruse did not permit him to externally show his true emotions. He mostly stood around, listening to the others talk, only interjecting comments that he thought would make the show funnier despite the fact that he was degrading Sungyeol-his best friend-and Sungjong. The filming went smoothly as they continued, and Myungsoo was overjoyed when they’d paired him and Sungjong in the same room.
For once, there was no awkward tension, no Woohyun to disturb their casual room arrangement. However, the elder’s threat still rang in Myungsoo’s ears. He would not touch Sungjong; only the boy could initiate any sort of contact or communication with Myungsoo, so the visual of Infinite took out his PS3 and began to play his games. Soon enough, though, Sungjong sat next to him, intrigued.
“Games?” he asked.
Myungsoo nodded.
“Show me how…”
Myungsoo halted his game and gazed up at Sungjong. “What?”
“Show me how to… play…” Sungjong’s eyes averted Myungsoo’s, blinking rapidly. “To play the game, I mean…”
Smiling, L pushed the game toward Sungjong. “Okay…”
He was more than happy when Sungjong grinned back at him, their fingers brushing and shoulders touching as they played video games together. Myungsoo felt that today was a blessing to him. It was very biased that the PD had everyone choose whom they wanted to have lunch with. Myungsoo was glad Woohyun had had so little responses in the choosing. The younger didn’t miss that subtle glare directed at him when it was his turn to choose and Sungjong did not stand behind him. Even though it was most likely the boy would not choose him, Myungsoo still had had high hopes.
When it was Sungjong’s turn, Myungsoo stepped forward a bit hesitantly, glaring at Woohyun with contempt as he stood. He saw a couple of the other members stand behind Sungjong too, but Myungsoo was confident he’d be picked; and sure enough, he was. Lunch with Sungjong was nothing short of amazing, despite the fact that Woohyun had shoved Myungsoo on the way to his lunch date with Dongwoo.
“Enjoy your meal, Seven-nim,” Myungsoo said, a big smile gracing his face. Though he should’ve been at least a bit curious about why Sungjong had picked him in the first place, he continued to eat blissfully, ignoring his curiosity for the moment. He was an item attached to Woohyun, so why did he not pick Woohyun? However, L couldn’t care less about what that greasy bastard was doing as long as he was sharing a bento with Sungjong.
Myungsoo held out some food for Sungjong and fed him, determined to make the most of his intimate time with the younger.
“Thank you,” Sungjong said softly.
“Why did you choose me?” asked Myungsoo.
“Just because you’re good looking,” the maknae answered, not looking up from his food. He suddenly coughed a laugh and Myungsoo looked up.
“Is that all?” he replied.
Myungsoo watched Sungjong laugh silently, slapping his thigh. Though he was smiling, Myungsoo was confused. What was funny? But before Myungsoo could ask, Sungjong had calmed down and began eating again. Instead, Myungsoo asked, “So what do you always do usually?”
Sungjong chewed thoughtfully. “Umm…”
Myungsoo suddenly leaned over and wiped the corner of Sungjong’s mouth with his thumb, ridding the corners of his perfect, plump, pink lips of rice. No one saw, and Myungsoo was glad-the look in Sungjong’s eyes. Myungsoo expected anger and confusion, but he spotted amusement and… happiness?
“I like this,” he answered instantly, flipping his hair out of his face.
Myungsoo suddenly had a brilliant idea and got up, holding his hand out to the cameraman. “Can I use this?” he asked, and the staff handed him one of the cameras.
“I’ll record Seven-nim’s image while he eats,” Myungsoo said to no one in particular.
An exhilarating feel coursed through his veins as he peered at Sungjong over the camera. It’d been so long since he’d seen the beauty that was Sungjong through a camera lens, capturing his flawless features. With Sungjong smiling in front of him, Myungsoo felt light as air. His heart felt like a feather in his chest, no worries or burdens upon his shoulders-just the responsibility of keeping Sungjong’s smile shining for all the world to see.
Later that night, Infinite learned that each respective pair was to play a little game. Myungsoo barely paid attention to the rules, but was bouncy and energetic to play the game, especially because his partner was Sungjong. Unfortunately, things didn’t go his way.
The beginning of the race had gone smoothly. As Woohyun, with his half disgusted smirk masked by a large fake smile for his fans. It repulsed Myungsoo, but nevertheless, he kept his mind focused on the game and popped the balloons with ease, forcibly hugging Sungjong to his chest as if he could transfer all of his emotions and love through the blown up rubber between them. Popping balloons was easy.
However, couple jump roping, he decided, was not their forte. No matter how they timed it, Sungjong kept standing on the rope. Eventually, once they’d lost, Myungsoo just trudged away, upset that they hadn’t won. He wanted to see how happy Sungjong would’ve been.
“You’re a loser, Myungsoo,” a cold voice whispered in his ear. “Sungjong thinks you’re just pathetic.”
L nudged his way past Woohyun, biting his lip from keeping from yelling at his hyung. He picked up a couple of the balloons, walked in front of the camera, and popped them. For now, it was his only way to show that he was pissed off.
“It’s been a while since we’ve been on an ice cream date.”
“It’s not a date.”
Myungsoo gazed at Sungjong as they sat down on a park bench. It was like old times-Myungsoo always watching Sungjong, and Sungjong trying to ignore him. It was like silent playful banter, but the difference was that it wasn’t playful; it was painfully real and true.
“No more pictures?” asked Sungjong, stuffing a spoonful of chocolate ice cream in his mouth.
“No,” Myungsoo answered, frowning as he eyed the unusual choice of ice cream in Sungjong’s hands. “Why did you order chocolate?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Sungjong.
“You never order chocolate,” he replied. “You always order lemon vanilla ice cream; you’ve never ordered chocolate before.”
Sungjong smiled wistfully. He coughed a chuckle and stood up. “You’re right,” he said, throwing the cup into the trashcan and then returning to his seat on the bench. “It’s Hyunnie hyung’s favorite-“
“’Hyunnie’?”
“Woohyun hyung. It’s a nickname I gave him.”
Myungsoo’s eyes narrowed at the nickname. “Why are you even dating him? He’s a jerk.”
“You don’t know-“
“No; you don’t know him!”
Sungjong stood up, angry. “Just shut up, Myungsoo hyung. You don’t know Woohyun at-“
“He’s using you! You’re just a toy to him!”
“No! He’s nice and-“
Myungsoo jumped up from his seat. “He’s a fucking bastard!”
Sungjong turned on his heels. “I don’t need to hear this.”
The older grasped him by the wrist, pulling him back, preventing him from leaving. “No, you need to hear this!”
“I don’t fucking care!”
“Woohyun is just using you for sex, Sungjong! He doesn’t care what will happen afterwards! When he’s done with you, he’ll cast you aside; and he knows that I’ll be here to take care of you.”
Sungjong glared at Myungsoo. “You’re a liar, a fucking liar! Woohyun hyung cares about me; and I don’t need a fucking brokenhearted puppy like you to lie to me!”
“I’m not lying! He’s going to break your heart! I know how it feels! You’ll give him everything he wants and once he gets bored or finds someone new, he’s going to throw you to someone else!”
Sungjong yanked his wrist out of Myungsoo’s grip. “I am not like you… And what we have is different than what Woohyun hyung and I have. Just leave me the fuck alone! I hate you!”
It hurt more than it should’ve, but he could’ve fallen apart right then and there, watching his beloved storm away, with the words “I hate you” ringing in his ears. He realized, as he felt his entire being just slip into a void that he wished would never return, that Sungjong could kill him with words. Anything the boy said would be taken into his heart, and one day, Myungsoo was sure that his death bed would be constructed of all the words Sungjong had ever said to him, hurtful and mean or true and loving; the boy’s words could kill.
Nevertheless, no matter how frustrated and upset Sungjong made Myungsoo by screaming that he was a liar, the vocalist couldn’t be angry at all at Sungjong. A couple tears graced his cheeks as he whispered the only words he wished he could tell Sungjong.
“I love you…”
And yet, those words were said more and more frequently after Myungsoo and Sungjong’s little spat in the park.
“Myungsoo hyung!” the maknae whined. “Will you go wash the dishes with me?”
The older sighed, unable to resist the boy’s charms. He nodded.
“Thank you, hyung! I love you!”
Myungsoo’s heart leapt in joy at the words.
“Hyung, will you go buy me some lemon candy?”
He nodded.
“You’re the best! I love you!”
His heart fluttered, but he was confused.
“L hyung!!! Hoya hyung is being mean to me! Hit him!”
Myungsoo pushed Hoya over, and Sungjong hugged him tightly. “You saved me! I love you, hyung!”
His breath caught in his throat at the words, still surprised that Sungjong was actually saying them to him, but he was confused as well; now, he knew what the meaning behind the words meant. Sungjong wanted something, something Myungsoo could give him, but he didn’t know what it was.
The second time Sungjong had shown any kind of affection and fondness towards Myungsoo was late one night. Myungsoo was just watching TV on the couch, and then Sungjong came over and sat next to him. The older tried to ignore the presence of the younger, but his thoughts returned to the boy sitting next to him as said boy said, “Can I sit on your lap?”
Without thinking, Myungsoo shifted to allow the younger to climb into his lap. When Myungsoo didn’t wrap his arms around Sungjong, the maknae forcibly took L’s arms to do so, intertwining their fingers as he silently showed Myungsoo where he should put his hands. Myungsoo’s heart thumped loudly, and he wondered if Sungjong could feel its erratic beat through their thin night shirts. As glad as Myungsoo was that Sungjong was still friends with him, he had to wonder what made the boy want to cuddle with L.
“What are you doing?” he muttered to no one in particular, but Sungjong had heard and answered, “Watching TV.”
Myungsoo mentally shook his head. No, he thought. What are you doing? You’re playing with my heart, Sungjong-ah. Don’t get my hopes up.
The vocalist knew some sham was going on when Sungjong abruptly moved out of Woohyun’s room and into his. Sunggyu had taken Sungjong’s empty spot in Woohyun’s room. As soon as Sungjong had unpacked, Myungsoo shut and locked the door. He’d not escape interrogation this time.
“What are you doing?” asked L.
“Unpacking-“
“No!” The visual of Infinite struggled to keep his composed nature. “You’re screwing with me, Sungjong. Why are you here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab-“
Myungsoo scoffed loudly. “You’re Woohyun’s boyfriend. Why the fuck would you move out of your boyfriend’s room into mine, the person you said you hated? Tell me what logic is there.”
Sungjong sighed, diving underneath the covers of his bed. “It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s something!” Myungsoo pulled back the covers. “Tell me!”
“It’s nothing!”
“Sungjong!”
“It’s a fucking game!” He took a breath to calm himself. “Woohyun made a bet with me. We each chose a target and we’d be as lovey dovey as we could with them, and when the month is up, we’ll recount everything we did with that person. Whoever is more successful in getting their target to fall in love with him wins. It’s a game, L hyung. A fucking game, okay? There’s nothing more to it.”
Myungsoo scowled. There’s so much more to this, he thought. Woohyun’s tiring of Sungjong; this game is a way to push Sungjong towards me.
“You’ll help me win, right?” asked Sungjong.
The older smiled gently. “Sure.” But he knew that this was a game Sungjong would lose no matter what.
Even so, Myungsoo did the best he could to publically show that he was in love with Sungjong, which wasn’t hard at all. Unfortunately, Sungjong wasn’t obliged to be as intimate. During one fanmeet, Myungsoo’s hand had snuck underneath the table and grasped Sungjong’s hand tightly. The younger instantly struggled out of his grip, eyes unfazed and face emotionless besides the slight smile that he put on for the fans. Sungjong pushed Myungsoo’s hand off of his and then leaned over.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
“Making a point that I want to be your lover,” he answered.
The younger shrugged and said nothing more. Myungsoo took as “Do whatever you want.” And so he did.
Throughout the entire interview, he played with Sungjong’s hair, brushing the silky strands from the maknae’s eyes and admiring its shininess and softness as he carded his fingers through the brown locks. Sungjong would occasionally remove Myungsoo’s hand from his head, but the elder’s fingers always had to dance along his skin; and L had actually fulfilled a long ago wish-to feel the boy’s jaw line, and he did so with much joy and love.
It was the barest of touches, a fine finesse of caressing, and Sungjong would hate to admit that he actually loved the way Myungsoo’s hands travelled along his skin as if the merest touch would shatter him; it also pissed him off to no end because, for one, as far as he could tell, L had no sense of personal space; and two, he’s wasn’t a fucking doll, so there was no need for such gentleness. It made the younger wonder what Myungsoo really thought of him sometimes
[Part 2]