13: Don't Argue
Title: Don't Argue
Pairing: Hyukvi
Rating: PG-15
Genre: non-AU, angst, romance, songfic: Nell - Sunshine
Summary: Sanghyuk can't accept that some things simply can't be.
Wordcount: 3,175
Sanghyuk is on his phone, scrolling through his twitter feed when Hakyeon enters the room Sanghyuk shares with Wonshik. When the door opens, Sanghyuk half hopes it will be his missing roommate, but he's far from surprised when it turns out to be their leader. What does surprise him, though, is how long it took the older man to finally take the step and face him.
Sanghyuk barely pays him any mind, even though Hakyeon is simply standing there, leaning against the door while watching him silently. Though he's only five years older than Sanghyuk, the feeling that finds Sanghyuk is not all that different from the feeling he used to get when he was younger and arguing with his parents.
”Are you ever going to apologize for what happened last night?” Hakyeon asks, tone commanding. It tells him Sanghyuk is Supposed to Know What He Did Wrong and Take Responsibility.
”Is anyone else?” Sanghyuk asks back instead. He has no interest in making excuses and apologizing for the way he feels.
Hakyeon frowns. ”What do you want an apology for?”
”For the way you all treated me last night.” He stares back down to his phone again. Fuck, how he wished the older understood how the pain and shame blended so perfectly, because if he did he would not be asking all these questions. He would understand that the mixture of it all was enough to leave Sanghyuk speechless.
”Hyuk,” Hakyeon says, moving across the room to sit down on the edge of Sanghyuk's bed. ”I understand that you're upset, but you were the one who interrupted practice in the first place, remember?” He searches for Sanghyuk's gaze, but Sanghyuk is determined not to let him catch it. ”You were acting... like a child.”
”Yeah?” Sanghyuk says, heartbeat quickening as he flares up. He throws his phone aside. ”Maybe because I am a child!” It comes out as a yell, and his anger keeps rising when Hakyeon doesn't even look surprised. He merely seems confused. But why would he be? Sanghyuk is a child; only seventeen years old yet expected to behave as an adult.
”What is this?” Hakyeon says, annoyed and truly bewildered. ”You throw fits, saying everyone treats you like a baby, yet when we hold you to the same responsibility as we would any other adult, that's wrong too? What exactly do you want from us, Sanghyuk?”
”I want you to get off my back,” Sanghyuk bites.
Hakyeon sighs. ”Look, we have work to do. You can't just run away and hide every time you don't get what you want.”
For a moment, Sanghyuk wants to jump him, push him down onto the floor and scream into his face. There's only one thing that Sanghyuk wants, and Hakyeon should never speak of it - never. There is too much guilt and shame involved in the whole thing, and no matter what, it's something Sanghyuk can never have. So there's no point in ever talking about it again. ”What the hell would you know about the things I want?” Sanghyuk growls instead.
”Probably a lot more than you think,” Hakyeon says pointedly.
Sanghyuk laughs. Tears burn in his eyes. Does Hakyeon really think Sanghyuk doesn't understand? Does he think Sanghyuk isn't aware that it's painfully obvious, the fact that he's in love with his own band member and that everyone in this dorm already knows?
”Don't think you know,” the younger says quietly. ”Don't think you understand.”
”So talk to me. Tell me about it.”
”No,” Sanghyuk says, shaking his head. ”There's nothing to talk about. You either understand, or you don't.”
Hakyeon sounds dejected when he speaks again. ”So what do you want me to do?”
”I told you already,” Sanghyuk says, calmer now that he remembers that Hakyeon actually cares about him. Even if it's just for the sake of the group. ”Just go. Leave me alone.”
After a few moments of hesitation, Hakyeon does get up off the bed. He drags himself over to the door, but stops there for a moment, back against Sanghyuk. ”The others still want an apology for the things you said yesterday. I think you know as well as I do that they deserve one.”
When Sanghyuk doesn't respond, Hakyeon leaves, and Sanghyuk is left there in the silence of his and Wonshik's empty room. He will apologize, if only to get rid of the ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, and he will make it up to Hakyeon. He will fix things between them. But not now, not for as long as this subject keeps coming up.
If he can't make himself stop feeling the way he does, the next best thing is to stop talking about it.
There's an unspoken law regarding their individual practice rooms: If two people go in there to talk, it means they're talking about something so private that they can't risk anyone else on the face of the earth overhearing, not their managers, not any of the other members, no one. All six of them know this well. The rooms are small, but sound proof, and though it would be impossible for anyone to hear anything from the outside, the windows on the doors tell you instantly if somebody is standing outside eavesdropping.
That's why, tonight, when Sanghyuk leaves his room after singing until his voice is reduced to pathetic little wheezes, his heart beats harder in his chest when he sees one of the other doors not properly closed, and hears two voices from inside. He shuffles a few steps closer, but keeps at a safe distance, not daring to peek through the glass window in fear of being seen. He shouldn't listen in on what surely isn't any of his business, but he figures this is his way of getting back at the whole group for always treating him like a kid. His ears perk up when he realizes the voices belong to Hakyeon and Wonshik.
”But it's not working. Hyung, it's not working.”
It's Wonshik, and he sounds dejected, bordering on desperate. Sanghyuk holds his breath.
”It will.”
”How can you be so sure of that?”
”Once he realizes it's a no-go, he'll move on. I promise you.”
Sanghyuk frowns where he stands. Who will realize what's a no-go? He gets down on his knees, quietly pulling himself over to the door, leaning his back against the wall.
”I think you're wrong about that,” Wonshik says carefully. ”I think Sanghyuk... I think he'll exhaust himself trying because giving up is not an option for him.” Sanghyuk widens his eyes, holding his breath as he listens. ”It's heartless, hyung, to just wait around for him to become so tired that he can't do it anymore. Besides, who knows what he'll do when he gets to that point?”
”Okay. Then I'll talk to him.”
There's a hesitant pause. ”No, I... I think it's better if I do it. I mean, he... he deserves that much.”
Wonshik's voice seems to fade the longer he speaks, and Sanghyuk is relieved when Hakyeon finally asks the question:
”Are you alright?”
Another pause. ”I'm fine.”
”Wonshik.”
Wonshik sighs deeply. ”Yes, of course I'm not fine, but I can do this. Don't worry about me, hyung.”
”Because you know the rules.”
”Yes, because I know the rules.”
They fall silent for a while. Just as Sanghyuk starts wondering if he should run and hide, if they'll be exiting the room soon, Hakyeon speaks again.
”If there's anything I can do to make this easier for you, I'll do it. You know that, right? That I'm here for you?”
”Yeah. Thanks.”
There's some rustling, a chair screeching against the floor. Sanghyuk shifts away, crawling towards the room he came from as quickly as he dares.
”I trust you, Wonshik. I trust that you won't make any wrong decisions.”
Sanghyuk freezes.
”'Wrong' decisions,” Wonshik repeats, almost scoffs.
”You know what I mean.”
”I just want him to be happy. And that something he would never be with me. So don't worry.”
Sanghyuk doesn't know what either of them mean, but he's scared suddenly, of getting caught, or... of talking to Wonshik, of ever looking into his eyes again. So he pulls himself up, runs back into his practice room and doesn't care that the others surely can hear him slam the door behind him.
He stays there for hours, trying to calm his racing heart, until Hakyeon finally knocks on the door and tells him it's time to go back to the dorm.
And go to sleep alone in the same room as Wonshik, whom he's in love with, madly, irreversibly, too strongly for him to keep it inside. Wonshik, who speaks less to Sanghyuk with every day that passes.
It only takes him three days until he breaks.
It's late, and they should both be sleeping. Sanghyuk knows why he's awake (because Wonshik is) but he doesn't know what's so interesting on Wonshik's laptop that it's keeping him up so late. If he'd ask, the older would simply reply ”nothing much”, and answer his follow-up questions with non-committed grunts. Sanghyuk knows, because he has tried. He has tried every night for five months, and it has only made it worse.
And with that thought, the knowledge that Wonshik has treated him like he barely exists for five whole months, Sanghyuk breaks.
”I can't do this anymore,” he says. The cold, drawn-out silence between them finally shatters. ”Can we please talk?”
Wonshik looks at him from across the dark room, his startled features illuminated by the laptop screen. He finds himself quickly, and looks back down to his computer. ”No.”
Sanghyuk eases his legs off of his bed, but remains sitting on the edge. ”What?”
”No, let's not talk,” Wonshik replies heavily. ”It's a bad idea.”
”Why?” Sanghyuk asks, not sure why the ever-present ache in his heart suddenly presses a little harder. He knew this would happen. ”You don't even know what I was going to say.”
”Of course I do,” Wonshik replies, disinterest dripping from his voice. ”Everybody knows.”
Sanghyuk hates how anger seems to be the only thing he feels nowadays. He can feel it now, too; swirling up in furious waves that threaten to wash him along. ”So, what? You're going to ignore me until it goes away?”
Wonshik nods, not lifting his gaze from the computer. ”Something like that.”
Sanghyuk clenches his jaw hard when he feels tears coming. He hates crying, it makes him feel like a child. And he's not a child. ”But you were right the first time,” he whines. Wonshik looks up at him in confusion. ”You must have known this would happen, that I would exhaust myself trying since giving up is not an option for me.” Quoting the words that have been resonating through his mind for the last two days feels like finally letting out his breath after holding it for weeks. Wonshik looks confused for a second, but then he sets his laptop down beside him on the bed. ”You were eavesdropping on us?” he asks, and now that the computer is gone, Sanghyuk can't see his face as well, but he can tell the other is angry.
”Does it matter?” Sanghyuk hisses. ”I heard.” The older looks like he wants to argue for a second, probably tell him exactly why it does matter that Sanghyuk was eavesdropping on them - the irresponsible kid - but then his shoulders slump, and Sanghyuk sees red. ”I hate that you all keep lecturing me about adulthood, while you feel no responsibility when you treat someone who cares about you like complete garbage,” he bites out, blinking furiously to hold back tears.
”You know the rules,” Wonshik says, staring at the floor. ”You knew the rules when you auditioned.”
Sanghyuk exhales, frustration seeping out of him in stormy puffs of air. ”I hate those goddamn rules! Yes, I knew the rules, and yes I understand them, but why couldn't you at least talk to me about it? I don't want to end up hating you, hyung.”
Wonshik gives him an emotionless stare. ”Are you saying you'll hate me if I can't return your feelings?” His voice is so void of feeling that Sanghyuk wonders in the back of his mind if that's what Wonshik wants. It'd sure make everything that much simpler. For at least five minutes.
”No,” he says, ”but I hate that the only time you talk to me is during recordings. I hate that we can't at least be friends, like we used to.” Wonshik avoids his eyes completely, staring down at his hands. If he's ashamed, then that's all good and well, Sanghyuk thinks. ”I would have backed off if you turned me down, but why did you have to ignore me?”
There's a long silence, and Sanghyuk refuses to take his question back. He refuses to let the conversation end before he's gotten some answers. In the end, Wonshik sighs again before speaking. ”I wanted to... tell you the truth... many times. But it's not that simple.”
Sanghyuk frowns. ”Why? What is it not that simple? Whatever it is, I want to know.”
Wonshik stands up from his bed. ”I told you, Hyuk, let's not talk about this.” He starts walking towards the door, and Sanghyuk is overwhelmed with the need to stop him, hold him back, keep him from leaving. ”I'm going to go wash up,” Wonshik continues before Sanghyuk has had a chance to move. ”Go to bed.”
Sanghyuk gets up, grabs Wonshik's wrists and stops him there with one hand on the door handle. ”Hyung, tell me,” he says slowly. ”Why can't we talk?”
Wonshik stares at the door. To Sanghyuk's surprise, his breathing is ragged. ”Because I think it would only make things more difficult.”
”For who?” Sanghyuk asks, because he knows that no matter what the truth is, he would rather know than wonder. ”You'd rather keep me suffering than have a potentially uncomfortable conversation with me? That's so selfish, hyung-”
Wonshik tears his arm out of Sanghyuk's grip with unexpected force. He finally turns around, and when Sanghyuk sees the tears brimming in his eyes, he suddenly can't remember what he was going to say. ”Don't you dare call me selfish, Sanghyuk,” he bites, jaw clenched. ”You're not the only one who has to give up on something here.”
They stare at each other. Sanghyuk's mouth has gone dry. ”You mean...”
”I won't say it,” Wonshik interrupts, gaze unfaltering.
”But you do?” Sanghyuk pries, suddenly feeling like he can't breathe.
Wonshik stares at him for a while longer, and Sanghyuk burns with possibility, with potential, with everything he has ever wanted yet never thought to be possible - and Wonshik nods.
Sanghyuk doesn't know what to say, because in all his time being in love with the other boy he has spent so much time imagining this moment, but now none of the things he has said or done in his fantasies seem to fit.
Wonshik walks out the door. It's the one thing reminding Sanghyuk that is is not his imagination, but reality.
When Wonshik comes back, Sanghyuk has changed into his sleeping gear and is lying on his bed, facing the wall with his back towards the rest of the room. Wonshik was gone for twenty five minutes, he estimates, which under normal circumstances would be more than enough time for him to fall asleep. But not today. Instead he pretends like he might be sleeping, pretends like he doesn't hear Wonshik turn off his computer and carefully push it onto his desk, pretends like it makes no difference to him when Wonshik turns off the light on his nightstand and everything goes pitch black. He's still trying to push back the cruel lump of despair in his chest when the bed dips and comforter slides off his shoulder to give room for one more person. He turns in shock, and of course he is met with the vague outline of Wonshik's face in the darkness.
”No matter how much you hate them, the company has rules,” the older whispers. His breath on the shell of Sanghyuk's ear makes him shiver. ”I'm not going to betray any confidences.”
”Except for mine,” Sanghyuk says weakly.
Wonshik nods. ”If that's what it takes.” He slides his arm around Sanghyuk's stomach, and the younger's mind goes completely blank.
”What are you doing?”
Wonshik's lips are resting against his cheek when he speaks again. ”This can be one time, now, only now and ever again. Do you understand?”
Sanghyuk is shivering, feeling like he is thrown through his own fantasies at an insane speed when Wonshik's hand moves up to cup his cheek. He wants to say no, because how can he understand that he can have the love of his life for one night only, and then never again? But instead, he nods fervently, because he is not too proud crawl on the floor looking for crumbles. Wonshik steadies himself and sits up slightly. His eyes show hesitance, and Sanghyuk can't blame him; even he knows this is a bad idea.
”Tell me when to stop,” Wonshik breathes, and then he kisses him, hard, firm, like he couldn't have held himself back even for another second. Sanghyuk thinks, as he slides his arms around Wonshik's middle to pull him on top, that he has no plans to ever tell him to stop. He considers telling him so, but when Wonshik's tongue grazes his lower lip, he decides to just let the other man figure it out on his own.
When Hakyeon wakes him the next morning, Wonshik is back in his own bed. It figures, Sanghyuk thinks; Wonshik probably isn't intending on ever letting Hakyeon find out what happened between them. It gives him a funny, satisfied feeling when he thinks of it - so much for adulthood.
He wakes Wonshik as per Hakyeon's usual request. He feels calm, much calmer than he has in months, even though the memory of Wonshik telling him nothing can ever happen between them again is clear in his mind. Because, and he realizes this when he shakes the other man awake and Wonshik's tired, unfocused eyes look back into his; Wonshik was right.
Giving up is not an option for him.