Criminal
Title: Criminal.
Pairing: Jiyong/Seungri
Rating: PG13
Summary: When a boy will break a boy just because he can.
A/N: All you need to know is that Jiyong tied Seungri's wrist to his using his shoelace, and Seungri tried to leave. Also, that I'm crazy and incoherent.
Criminal.
But there’s a string between your wrists did you forget?
And it’s as good as chains or ropes when he pulls you back, back in, back down, when he pushes you away and spins you round and at first you laugh -whatisthis- but his eyes are dark and dangerous in the shadows so you snap your wrist away and drag him to you.
His fist collides with your chin and it hurts so much your eyes water but you don’t have time to cry, he doesn’t have time for knees and palms he’s furious, pinning your back to the wall and hissing like a possessed demonic thing on fire-
(why do you always link him to fire maybe cos he hurts you and he marks you and god you want to touch him everywhere)
-but you need to get away get away away, so close too close but he’s saying sometimes I want you and you have to stop and laugh. Sometimes, sometimes, he has it so easy, doesn’t he, sometimes, some nights, a couple of minutes of the day when you’re beyond repair.
Let me go, you say, let go of me-
(make me disappear and I won’t hurt you anymore, take that chain from my wrist and put it round my neck and choke me, you’ve been torturing me for so long, it’s not funny anymore, I’m half a person and I’m a person, Jiyong, you can’t want me and not want me, you can’t tie me with strings and spin me round you to show me where I belong, what my place is, I already knew but I thought I was good at hiding it from you.)
You have to let me go or let me die, you tell him. Or perhaps you just think it, because your mouth is still shut, your teeth still hidden because he loves them, loves how sharp they look and how much damage they can do.
You know nothing, you tell him with an open mouth this time, you know nothing, your voice with just the right amount of acid to get under his skin.
It’s eating me alive he screams with his claws on your shoulders and such a tangible desperation in his voice that it makes you waver, what’s a small sacrifice huh, you don’t amount to much anyway, what’s a little blood if you can see him smile or hear him scream for you again, scream against bare skin.
But you don’t move, you don’t do anything, you just keep singing
eatingmealiveeatingmealive
because hell, you have your dark nights too and you’ve always wanted to be the one to kill him-even though that’s not entirely true is it and not entirely what’s happening is it, it’s not you, it’s him, dragons bathe in their own flames.
Blank pages, I’m the blank pages in your notebook, you think you want me but you want what’s yours on me, you want to howl back. There are tears instead but it’s ok, you’re the maknae, tears are forgiven and wiped away with sleeves and fingers, but he’s not kind today, he’s not even pretending.
What do you want me to do, what-you break.
Fix me, he growls, put me to sleep, make this right, I can’t live like this anymore I can’t.
There are lips on yours, half a kiss with no epic music and no fireworks and no warning, and really, he should have given you a heads up because this is the thing you’ve been dreaming of in the shower forever now and it’s as unfair in its manifestation as he is.
There are lips on yours and a gasp, a give in his throat as he pulls away because you didn’t kiss him back. His eyes are wide and hurt in a way you’ve seen before during playback and lights, camera, action, but this time you believe in them like you do when they smile, and suddenly you’re liquid, you’re water, you’re animal and vague words, hunger and victoryyy, so you lunge forward to conquer the dragon, taste the flames straight from his tongue with your fingers on his wrist and on his neck, harsh and giving, giving, always ruthlessly giving even though he doesn’t care for something he can’t take.
What, he asks, what? like he doesn’t understand, like he didn’t do it first and you laugh bitterly, see, that’s how you don’t know, hyung, this is how it’s easy for you. He looks like a scared girl right now, and he’s small, so small. With his wrists and elbows and lips, how you love him, really, unfair unfair unfair because you weren’t given a choice, drawn in and mutilated and he didn’t even have to try.
You kiss him again, deep and violent because you want to.
Because you can.
Shut up, you hiss when he’s at arm’s length and he says your name. Shut up and leave and stop playing with me I’m not your slave I’m not your thing I’m not your toy-
(you are you are and you are but he doesn’t have to know)
Panda revolution.
He takes a few steps back, there’s the chord between your hands, that stupid shoelace, so stupid, so cheap to represent something so frightening and fundamental, but that’s how much he understands isn’t it.
You claw it away, snap and Alexandrian solution- now it hangs loose from his wrist, alone and lonely like a fuming cable and his black boots lead him away as you clutch your own shirt because it hurts, fuck. It burns.
Here, now, time for knees and closing doors and when you’re alone you tell the silence and the dark, I love you so much, so much.
So much- and you just wait til I get out of that bathroom, after I get out of that tub and the seaweed, the cold water, you just wait-I’ll lick my own blood away and find my own place to shine and I’ll smile like I smile to you to other people I’ll smile to everyone I swear and I will hurt you, nothing ever hurts you, ji the dragon, but one day I'll leave a lasting mark that will give you hell every time the weather changes.
Not yet though, not now, the hurting one is you now, and god, Seunghyun, why did you ever pick a fight with a mythical creature, little guys only win in fairytales.
Fairytales, well, look at that, the door flying open and that hurricane spinning towards you, no really, look, you have to see, there are tear tracks down his cheeks-
-who made him cry, who hurt him-
-tears down his cheeks and that twisted line of his mouth and you’re on the floor, the end of the string is on the floor and his knees are on the floor, his nails are on your face and he says something, he yells at you and you start crying, really really hard, convulsing like you haven’t done since you stopped practicing alone after midnight back when your legs were jelly and your arms were sticks.
You’re crying crying but that’s ok- not because you’re the young one with the dark rings this time, but because there are lips on your face again-how can it be that you’ve missed them- dragging and slow on your eyelids and your forehead and your brow and he’s laughing while you’re crying like he always does, the world set right again, the earth back on its axis, spinning again.
He calls you a fucking idiot-but it’s against your mouth.
And his bones are sharp- but you hold on to him.
A/N: One day I'll write something that makes sense, I swear. The title and summary are from Fiona Apple's Criminal, and I honestly don't know why I fail so much.