KPop: First Kiss (GDragon/Seungri, NC-17) [2/4]

[maayacolabackup]

#

Jiyong can pretty much divide his relationship with Seungri into three stages.

There was the first stage, which was the ‘Jiyong Resents Seungri’ stage. That stage wasn’t very long, because Seungri’s got the sort of personality where people feel close to him easily, wanting to get to know him or feeling like they already do far before Seungri would even think of telling them anything of importance.

Then came the second stage, which Jiyong thinks made up the largest portion of their friendship, which was the ‘Tom and Jerry’ stage, where Jiyong was obsessed with the idea of catching Seungri and keeping him, and Seungri enjoyed the game. They both couldn’t manage to keep away from each other, intimate touches that meant nothing at all comprising the vast majority of their interactions. Jiyong could, during this stage, deny that he had any feelings for Seungri that went beyond protective older brother, most of the time.

When Seungri composed his first song, Jiyong had listened to him describe it and knew that Seungri could understand a part of him that others never would; he’d felt butterflies in his stomach and he couldn’t explain it. He just closed his eyes and wished them away. Jiyong’s always been able to ignore the things that were inconvenient, anyway. Jiyong’s always been able to push aside the things he wants for the things he’s supposed to do. Jiyong’s allowed to be completely free with his art. He’ll trade the freedom with his life for that, anytime.

So he buried those flutters and flickers beneath responsibility and let Seungri come closer, sitting on Jiyong’s lap and playing with his fingers, playing with Jiyong’s hair. Jiyong didn’t think about things like necessity then, because Seungri smiled at him, making his dimples appear, and Jiyong didn’t really think beyond the moment, letting himself get caught up in the Lee Seungri show. Seungri liked his complete attention, anyway, and Jiyong couldn’t be distracted by trying to evaluate the extra, unnecessary feelings that wriggled about in his chest when Seungri laughed too hard and collapsed onto his chest, breath hot against Jiyong’s neck.

The third stage, the ‘now’ stage, is what Jiyong calls the ‘After the Kiss’ stage. Because really, Jiyong had been drunk, but even when Jiyong is drunk, Jiyong is not reckless. Even when Jiyong is drunk, he knows the motions his body is taking, and he knows the things he shouldn’t do. But Jiyong had seen Seungri under the light, and he’d acted, knowing he shouldn’t. He’d taken a step forward, and leaned up, and he’d kissed him.

Seungri had pushed him away, and said “You’ll regret this in the morning.” Jiyong did. His gut had heaved, and Seungri had just comforted him, like Jiyong hadn’t crossed a line he had no right to cross, like he wasn’t freaking out in his head about all the times he and Jiyong had curled into the same bed, legs intertwined.

The ‘After the Kiss’ stage is a whole lot of Jiyong trying to pretend that he was drunk enough not to have known better, and Jiyong pretending like the feelings he’d felt bubble up that night aren’t real. The ‘After the Kiss’ stage is a lot of Seungri telling Jiyong that everything is fine, that they’re fine, and a lot of Jiyong seeing Seungri studying him, when he thinks Jiyong won’t notice, and a lot of Seungri forgetting that he’s supposed to have forgotten all about it, and flinching for the briefest moment when Jiyong reaches out to touch.

The ‘After the Kiss’ stage is Seungri moving even closer. Jiyong wonders if Seungri is trying to prove to the both of them that nothing’s changed, sliding into Jiyong’s personal space like he belongs there (and he does) and never retreating until the last possible moment.

The ‘After the Kiss’ stage is Jiyong fighting with his own heart, telling it to shut-up because there’s a lot more at stake here than can afford to be risked. The ‘After the Kiss’ stage is Seungri going on more and more dates, and Jiyong doesn’t even try to learn their names anymore. He used to know them all, but now Seungri goes through them too fast for Jiyong to bother. Jiyong just closes his eyes, and it doesn’t sting as long as he doesn’t think about it.

The ‘After the Kiss’ stage is also Jiyong snapping at Seungri not to flirt with the dancers, and Seungri staring at him with wide eyes, and Jiyong wishing he could take it back. It’s Jiyong, despite all the odds, feeling even more possessive of Seungri than he’s ever felt before.

It’s Jiyong losing his mind.

#

The van-ride to SBS studios is short, and Jiyong passes the time playing rock-paper-scissors with Youngbae over who’ll accept the Mutizen award if they win today. Jiyong’s pretty sure Youngbae only wants to do it because he’s got a huge crush on IU, but he’d never tease him about it aloud. That’s more Seungri’s thing than his. Jiyong and Youngbae have a sort of truce about stuff like this that goes back to growing up together. It’s been Jiyong and Youngbae since the beginning, before there was BIGBANG or even before there was going to be a group. As trainees, they’d had to give up on most of their outside friendships, and it’d always been okay because they had each other.

Now they all have each other, but Jiyong always thinks of Youngbae as his oldest friend. Maybe his best friend.

Once they’re on stage, it’s as seamless as always. They watch they playback, and Seungri’s wrist is perfect, and Jiyong smiles a little. He chances a look over at Seungri, who’s crowded in next to him so close that Jiyong can smell the lavender of his shampoo, and Seungri is watching him instead of the screen. “It’s perfect,” he whispers into Seungri’s ear, and Seungri shivers and glances away.

“Of course it is,” he whispers back. “I’m amazing.”

“You are,” Jiyong says, and Seungri smiles a tiny smile, and Seunghyun stares at them both incredulously, and then sighs because he’s used to it.

Later, they perform the second song live, and they do win that Mutizen, and Jiyong lets Youngbae accept the award, even though he won their travel game. Jiyong is still feeling pumped though, adrenaline running through his veins, and Seunghyun and Daesung are spinning around in place, and Seungri is skipping over to him and throwing and arm over his shoulder.

He still smells like lavender, Jiyong thinks. And Jiyong doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He throws one arm around Seungri’s waist, and Seungri looks at him, face flushed and triumphant because Seungri loves winning, loves being told he’s the best, and Jiyong’s heart skips a beat.

He feels heavy and light at the same time, and Seungri is so very lovely right now, lips stretches and teeth so straight and white. Maknae doesn’t smoke.

Jiyong doesn’t realize he’s staring until Seungri flushes, and disentangles himself from Jiyong, skipping over to Seunghyun as Jiyong tries to look calm and not like he’s falling apart.

Fuck, Jiyong thinks, and it’s still weird. He and Seungri can pretend and pretend, and it’s still weird.

Backstage, they’re still shaking hands with everyone else, and Jiyong notices Seungri is gone. Usually he stays, hamming it up and wheedling Daesung into introducing him to all his friends, because Daesung is friends with all the prettiest girls, but Seungri is nowhere to be found.

#

Jiyong doesn’t like to show his real emotions to people he’s not close to. He knows, as an idol, more of his life than other people’s is caught on tape, played back on televisions and computer screens around the world for the hungry eyes of people Jiyong doesn’t know and will never meet. He likes that, in some ways, because it’s a bigger audience for his craft.

In other ways, he’d like to keep all of his real feelings to himself. With Seungri, though, Jiyong can’t help but feel, whether the cameras are there or not.

“Is it okay, to be so close?” Seungri asks, and Jiyong just laughs, tugging Seungri close enough that he can jump up on his back. Seungri’s hands reflexively grab Jiyong’s thighs and Jiyong digs his chin into Seungri’s shoulder.

“Why does it matter?” Jiyong asks. “We’re Nyongtori. People have to expect it by now.”

“People,” Seungri says. “Like fanservice?”

Jiyong pauses for a minute, and hops down from Seungri’s back, turning Seungri around to face him. Jiyong presses both palms flat against Seungri’s cheeks, mashing them.

“How I act with you isn’t fanservice,” Jiyong says, and the words tumble out slow and serious. “I just can’t help myself.”

“What?” Seungri says, and his eyes are wide and his face is flushed, mouth slightly compressed like a goldfish by Jiyong’s hands.

“Maknae, you’re just too cute to resist,” Jiyong teases, and Seungri smiles so hard it moves Jiyong’s hands, so Jiyong drops them to his sides. Seungri reaches down and laces their fingers together.

“I’m the cutest?” Seungri asks, and he uses his special voice, the one he saves for when he wants something from Jiyong.

“Yes,” Jiyong says. “Absolutely.”

“Am I your favorite?” Seungri asks, and he looks so eager to please. Seungri is always so confident, so full of himself, except when he’s with Jiyong. He just wants to make Jiyong happy, and that’s okay, because Jiyong wants to make him happy too.

“Yes,” Jiyong says. “Maknae is my favorite.”

#

BIGBANG’s dressing room, this week, is their favorite one, the one in the far corner, furthest from the stage. Youngbae and Daesung both like to pray before they go onstage, so they like the quiet. Seungri, on the other hand, hates it, and he usually wanders off to socialize long before BIGBANG has to perform.

It’s a long walk out, but a short walk back, because there’s no one in the halls. Everyone’s talking to each other backstage, still. He’s about to turn the corner, but pauses.

There are voices in the hallway.

“What’s up with you, maknae?” Seunghyun says, and his voice is smooth and serious. Jiyong pauses, resting his forehead against the wall. “You’re acting bizarre.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Seungri says, and he’s using his people-pleaser voice, Jiyong notices. Seunghyun notices it too.

“Do you really think I’m going to buy that? I’ve known you too long,” Seunghyun says.

“It’s really nothing.” Seungri sighs. “I can deal with it myself.”

“You sound like our leader.”

“Do I?” Seungri muses, and then he laughs. “I guess I do.”

“I don’t have enough free time to talk around things, kid. Tell me what’s up.”

A pause. Jiyong twists his rings.

“Am I… likeable?” Seungri asks, and Seunghyun snorts.

“No,” Seunghyun says. “But we all like you anyway. Is this all about a girl?”

“I guess you could say that,” Seungri says hesitantly. “It’s about… feelings.”

“You should have a nice sit-down with Jiyong, then,” Seunghyun says. “He’s the one writing all the tortured love songs.”

“I… can’t talk to him about this,” Seungri says. “I can’t talk to anyone about this.” There’s a note of insecurity in his voice. It’s something Jiyong hasn’t heard in years, since Seungri was an anxious shadow, waiting for Jiyong to tell him ‘yes, you did well,’ after every move he made.

Now Seungri is a grown man, and he’s found confidence somewhere else, maybe inside, and he smirks and charms his way into being the center of attention without a second thought. If there’s anyone built for show business, it’s Seungri, Jiyong’s always thought.

But now there’s a waver that Jiyong doesn’t understand. It doesn’t sound like his maknae.

“Well, if you ever find yourself wanting to really talk about it,” Seunghyun says. “I guess I’m around.”

“Thanks,” Seungri says, and Jiyong’s palms clench into fists.

He doesn’t like that there are things that Seungri can’t confide in him now, because of one mistake.

Seungri’s mouth was so soft.

He waits a few more minutes for the hallway to clear, and then walks around the corner. Seungri is still standing there, leaning against the wall.

His shoulders are curled forward, and he looks kind of defeated. It’s strange, and Jiyong hates it.

“Hey,” Jiyong says, and Seungri looks up and smiles.

“Good show?”

Jiyong’s eyes trace the line of Seungri’s jaw, the way it’s clenched tight. “It was alright,” Jiyong says. “I’d give it a seven out of ten.”

“What lost it the points?” Seungri asks. “Crowd was too loud? Too quiet?”

“I’m worried,” Jiyong says. He licks his lips. “About-“

“You shouldn’t worry,” Seungri says. “I’m sorry I’m being silly.”

“You’re not…” Jiyong starts, but Seungri smiles, wide, and Jiyong can’t see his eyes. Fake, fake, fake, in a way Seungri never is with Jiyong.

“You were really drunk, hyung. You could barely walk.”

Jiyong hadn’t been that drunk. Maybe a bottle of soju, enough to make his head spin but not enough to send him to heave over the toilet. Jiyong had walked, under his own power, into the convenience store for Powerade. He’d bought two candy bars. “Maknae…”

“So I won’t read into it, okay?” Now there is a note of pleading in his voice, like more than anything, he wants Jiyong to drop the subject. The leather of Jiyong’s pants is sticking to his thighs, and his hair is still dripping, rivulets skating down his neck and dampening the back of his shirt.

“Okay,” Jiyong says. “Whatever… whatever you want.”

“I want to forget it,” Seungri says, and he looks up, but he doesn’t look at Jiyong. He looks past him, like he’s talking to someone else down the hallway.

“Okay,” Jiyong says, and it’s the first time, since that morning, they’ve really talked about it, even if Jiyong’s not saying much. Jiyong’s not sure what he’d say, anyway. What he’d allow himself to say. Jiyong close his eyes for a minute, and painstakingly pulls all his feelings inside too, one by one, locking them up as quickly as he can. “When do you want to work on the songs?”

Seungri exhales, and finally looks at Jiyong straight on. “I can be free tonight,” he says, and Jiyong rubs his palms on his pants, but they’re leather, and they stick. Suddenly this all seems so ridiculous. Maybe Jiyong is making all of this worse.

“Okay,” Jiyong says. “I’ll call Teddy and see if he’s around.”

“Great,” Seungri says, and he smiles, and this one is more real. More like the smiles that Jiyong’s used to. Jiyong swallows, because his heart hurts. “See you around six? I promised Daesung I’d help him with his new laptop, so I’ll come after that.”

“Okay,” Jiyong says. “See you then.”

#

Jiyong has a lot of songs he writes that he doesn’t show anyone. Those are the messy ones; the ones where the words are shouting themselves inside his head, angry and fierce and Jiyong has to let them out, put them down, or he’ll scream.

Songs about loneliness, and songs about the wrong kind of love, scary and intense and far too much for anyone else, and songs about how much he wants to crawl right out of his own skin and walk around that way, all exposed guts and tendon and bone.

He hides them away on his hard drive, because they’re not for other people to see. Those are the songs Jiyong writes for himself, peeling back his flesh centimeter by centimeter just because he has no idea what he’ll find. Some days, Jiyong knows himself better than anyone, and some days, Jiyong thinks there’s still so much of himself he’s yet to find.

“I want to see the one you were working on last night,” Seungri says to him one morning. “The one with the spooky melody.” Seungri is flopped onto Jiyong’s bed, sitting on Tom’s face, left hand smashing down Laura’s. His back is against the wall, and Jiyong sits up so that they are sitting side by side.

“It’s not ready,” Jiyong says. I don’t want to show it to you.

“Hyung, whatever you make is awesome. I’m sure even if it’s not what you want yet, it’s already really good.”

“It’s… not for others,” Jiyong says, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Not everything I write is for showing to the world.”

“I’m not the world,” Seungri says. “I’m maknae, remember?” His arm wraps around Jiyong’s shoulder, and Jiyong tiredly leans his head against Seungri’s chest. He closes his eyes, and thinks about the song he wrote last night as Seungri’s finger draws small circles along his arm, distracting and soothing in the same breath. “It’s just me.”

Jiyong plays it for him, because he can’t say no when Seungri looks at him like that. Seungri leans forward at Jiyong’s desk, wearing Jiyong’s headphones, and listens. Jiyong’s heart is in his throat, because there are parts of himself he’s not sure he wants Seungri to see embedded in the chorus. Jiyong shivers as Seungri’s fingers tap aimlessly on the desktop.

“So possessive,” Seungri says. “Is this how you feel about me, hyung?” Seungri asks.

Yes, Jiyong says, but only inside his head. Things can stay safe in there. Jiyong’s not ruining anything if he doesn’t say it aloud.

Jiyong ends up releasing ‘Obsession’ as a solo on GD&TOP. He only performs it once, and Seungri loves it.

“It’s one of my favorites, hyung,” Seungri says. “It feels raw.”

Well, Jiyong thinks, that’s exactly what it is. Raw.

#

“Hey,” Seungri says, and Jiyong looks up from the mixer to look at Seungri, who’s carrying a plastic bag of take-out and a couple of milk-coffees. Jiyong smiles at him, and Seungri does a silly pose. “Seungri is here, to rescue the tortured artist from his own pain and possible starvation.”

“You’re going to be an artist tonight, too,” Jiyong says, and Seungri grins, bounding over to Jiyong and squeezing into the chair with him. Jiyong wraps his arm around Seungri’s waist to steady them both, and Seungri looks onto the screen.

“I’m always an artist,” Seungri says. “I did some of my solo mini-album by myself, remember?” He preens a bit, and Jiyong smiles, because he’d liked Seungri’s music. He’d liked the way Seungri looked on the stage all by himself, licking his lips and winking at the fangirls. Strong Baby, all grown up.

“I do,” Jiyong says. “Ready to make some more music?”

“If you’re making it, it’ll be so good with or without me,” Seungri says with a laugh. “No pressure.”

Jiyong flicks at his forehead, and instead of dodging, Seungri leans into it, and Jiyong doesn’t hit him too hard, opting instead to tighten his other hand where it grips Seungri’s side. “No, this is a Nyongtori project. We need to work together, so it sounds like both of us,” Jiyong says, and Seungri grins excitedly. His breath smells minty, like Seungri’s been eating those Japanese breath-strips again, and Jiyong sort of likes the scent.

“I won’t let you down,” Seungri says, and Jiyong raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say ‘Of course you won’t, as if I’d let you,’ and someone clears his throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” Teddy jokes, as he walks into the room and sits on a far chair, in front of the synth mixers.

“No,” Jiyong says. “Seungri was just telling me how much of an artist he is.”

“Well, I am,” Seungri says. “Just because I don’t sit and read emo poetry on the internet during my free time doesn’t mean I don’t have hidden depths.” Jiyong laughs delightedly and tickles Seungri, and Seungri laughs with him and squirms away, careful not to fall off the chair.

Teddy sighs and wheels his chair closer. “Well, as much as I wish all three of us could fit in that tiny chair meant for one person, I guess I’ll resign myself to third wheel-dom over here,” Teddy says, and Jiyong presses his cheek to Seungri’s and smirks.

“Maknae is mine, anyway,” Jiyong says. “So I wouldn’t let you sit with us.”

Seungri laughs again and makes a grab for Jiyong’s rings. Jiyong lets him twist them around, as he uses his left hand to play some samples for Teddy. “What do you think of these?”

“I love this one,” Seungri says, on the third piece of music, pausing to listen carefully. “It’s so sweet.”

“I wrote this one for you,” Jiyong admits. “It only makes sense to use it now.”

Seungri beams at him, and Jiyong, inexplicably, wants to blush, like he’s a stupid teenager still. He bites down on his lip instead.

Seungri is off-limits, and none of this can mean anything, because there’s more on the line here than Jiyong’s foolish feelings. “I’ve got some lyric ideas,” Seungri says distractedly, and he’s tapping his fingers on the table in time to the beat. “First kiss,” he says. “Faasuto Kisu.”

Seungri, in the streelight. Seungri, lips so soft and warm under Jiyong’s own.

“Sounds cute,” Teddy says, and Jiyong pays attention. “You guys can wear candy-pink suits and the Japanese fanbase will eat it up.”

“They love me,” Seungri says with a triumphant smile. “I can wear whatever, and it doesn’t matter.”

“Ass,” Jiyong says, and he pinches at Seungri’s cheek until Seungri squeals.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Seungri says, and Jiyong lets him go, and Seungri rubs at his cheek and squints at Jiyong unhappily. “They do!”

“What’s your unit going to be called?” Teddy asks, and Jiyong leans forward, resting his elbow on the counter, and his face on his left hand.

“NYONGTORI,” Jiyong says. “What else would we call it?”

Seungri laughs. “So cute!” He says. “Our fans made a cute name for us.”

“So cute,” Jiyong agrees, and Teddy looks at them both, face mildly bemused.

“What else would you call it, indeed,” he says, and he looks at Jiyong and Jiyong wonders if Teddy can see through him. It’s an irrational fear, but Jiyong worries about it all the time. Jiyong can’t afford to let his guard down, because he’s BIGBANG’s leader, and he’s pretty sure that after the incident in 2011, Jiyong’s used up his get-out-of-jail-free card with the press and his fans.

Teddy isn’t either of those things, but Jiyong needs to be more careful. Needs to be professional, and keep his distance, because if he doesn’t he’ll get too comfortable. If he doesn’t, he’ll slip up.

Seungri shows them the lyrics he’d already started thinking about, a little, and as he translates them into Korean for them, looking at Jiyong every line to gauge his response, Jiyong thinks they’re perfect.

“I love it,” Jiyong admits. “It’s fresh and clean, and suits the whimsical nature of the melody. I think we’ve got a single.”

“Me too,” Teddy says, and Seungri smiles so bright that Jiyong feels like he could work through the rest of the night on the fuel of it.

Seungri always blossoms underneath the sun of compliments and praise.

“First Kiss,” Jiyong muses, and it’s Seungri, in the streetlight, the taste of soju on his tongue.

“The first kiss is important, right?” Seungri asks. “You always remember the first kiss you have with someone, no matter what happens.”

“No matter what?” Jiyong queries, and Seungri smiles, and looks at Teddy, not at Jiyong, as he answers.

“First kisses are a way of saying ‘I like you’, right?” Seungri says. “I remember every time someone has said ‘I like you’ to me.”

“You’re a famous idol,” Teddy says. “And with the number of girlfriends you’ve supposedly had, that must be quite a few times to remember.”

“I like being liked,” Seungri says. “It’s not a problem to remember them.”

Seungri’s tongue peeks out and licks over his lips, and Jiyong wonders if he’s remembering the way Jiyong has tasted, that night.

“It’ll be a cute promotion,” Jiyong says. “And that’s the image we’re trying to sell.”

“Nyongtori,” Seungri says, and he hooks his ankle around Jiyong’s, and Jiyong forgets all about extra things, and focuses on how happy it makes him to be with Seungri just like this.

They eat their takeout stooped over the mixing board, Seungri half lying on Jiyong’s back as he hums along, and Jiyong lets himself get lost in the music as Seungri’s breath tickles at his ear.

#

The first time Jiyong realizes he likes men, like that, isn’t until he’s nineteen.

He’s at a private party, and he’s not drunk, because he’s got another year before he’s old enough to drink. He is exhausted, because they’re coming in from a performance, and it’s Se7en’s manager’s birthday, so Jiyong is trying to hold on to the energy he has left so he can muster up a strong ‘Happy Birthday’ when the time comes to sing. Youngbae doesn’t seem to be having that problem, as he’s dancing around and tossing streamers everywhere as Seunghyun attempts to get Daesung to give him a piggy-back ride while Se7en takes videos of the persuasion tactics with his cellphone, vowing never to lose it all the while. His girlfriend, Hanbyul, watches over his shoulder, her legs looking miles long in her high-heeled sandals. Gummy is watching them all like they’re just kids, and he guesses, to her, they are.

Seungri, Jiyong notices, is sleeping on the couch, curled up into a ball and looking so innocent in sleep. Seungri’s anything but innocent when he’s awake, but with his eyes closed like that, you can’t see his devious plotting, only his angelic, soft features, and the way his hair is so dark and his skin is so pale.

One of Se7en’s dancers is watching Jiyong, though, when Jiyong continues his survey of the room. Jiyong stares back, and the dancer raises an eyebrow. Jiyong feels warm, and there’s something exciting in the way the dancer eyes him. It feels a little like when Jiyong was sixteen and he got his first handjob in the restroom of a noraebang from a girl from his school with the prettiest smile and the smallest hands.

Jiyong ends up blowing the dancer in an abandoned office, and when it’s all said and done, and Jiyong’s back at the party, singing Happy Birthday to the manager, Seungri looks up at Jiyong and smiles, and Jiyong can’t take his eyes off of Seungri’s mouth.

“Hyung,” Seungri says. “Where did you go?”

“I just went out to get some air,” Jiyong lies, and his jaw hurts, and his throat is dry, and his mouth tastes like come and forbidden desires.

“I missed you,” Seungri says, and Jiyong rolls his eyes.

“Liar; you were sleeping.”

“When I was awake, though,” Seungri says. “Then I was missing you.”

“It’s true,” Gummy says. “He was looking for you like a puppy who’d lost his master.”

Seungri blushes. “It wasn’t all that bad,” Seungri says, but he overplays it, looking up at Jiyong through his lashes and smiling sweetly, and Gummy grins. “Your maknae is cute,” she says, and Jiyong grabs Seungri in a headlock and fakes a glare.

“And he’s mine, so don’t get any ideas,” Jiyong says, and Seungri pushes at him, but the protestations are weak, because Seungri loves it when Jiyong is possessive, because it means Jiyong is thinking about him, and Seungri always likes that.

“Property of Jiyong, huh?” Gummy says, and she seems amused. “Kids these days.”

Later, when Jiyong is alone in his room, Tom and Laura wound together beneath him, Jiyong recalls the way the dancer’s cock had felt in his mouth, and the way Jiyong had felt like he was going to burn himself up with all the new things. But when Jiyong comes, hand curved around his erection, he’s not thinking of the dancer at all.

That night is also the first night that Jiyong realizes he might have feelings about Seungri that it could Very Bad to have.

But in the light of the morning, Jiyong can push them away, and he does, locking them up tight in the strongbox of things he’ll fully examine when he’s done with being an idol. Until then, Jiyong will pretend.

#

Yang Hyun Suk loves the songs. Jiyong catches him humming one to his daughter one afternoon as he carries her in his arms, the two of them wandering from practice room to practice room to check in on what the talents are doing. She giggles when he gets to the chorus and whispers “Faaaaasto Kisu” into her cheek, and claps her hands cheerfully.

“It’s catchy, right?” Yang Hyun Suk says, and Jiyong nods and Seungri beams, and takes to the choreography even more enthusiastically.

The choreography is simple. NYONGTORI dance in unison a lot, and ultimately make a lot of really over-exaggeratedly cute faces at each other that Jiyong tries not to let make his heart stop.

Jiyong, toward the end, always leans up like he’s going to kiss Seungri’s mouth, but then leaves a peck on his forehead or cheek, which makes Seungri blush and makes their back-up dancers laugh and clap.

“It’s perfect,” Miyong says, and she covers her hand to hide her giggle. “I love that part. Girls will love that part. So cute.”

“I think so too,” Jiyong says, and Seungri scratches irritatedly at the side of his head.

“I don’t think this promotion cycle is going to result in many dates for me,” Seungri says. “As this is possibly the gayest thing I have ever participated in.”

Jiyong laughs because his chest feels tight. He’s not really sure what to say about that. Still, the idea of maknae staying home with him in the Japanese apartment instead of going out with different girls every night pleases him, even if it’ll just mean a different sort of torture. “Liar. You totally wore a ballet costume once, and who knows how many times Seunghyun has tried to slip you the tongue during drama parodies.”

“Haha,” Seungri says. “You say tried like he hasn’t succeeded. Oh god, Secret BIGBANG. The memories still haunt me.”

Jiyong’s always been a little bit of a masochist.

“Maknae is mine, anyway,” Jiyong coos, and Seungri smiles and looks at Jiyong out of the corner of his eye, still posturing for their dances.

“So you say, so you say,” Seungri says. “I might be my own, don’t you think?” He puts his hands on his hips, because the sweatpants he’s wearing today don’t have pockets, and Jiyong can’t keep himself from lingering on the peek of skin between Seungri’s sweatpants and tank top.

“No,” Jiyong says, and Miyong laughs again.

“Nyongtori,” she says. “Seungri, you can’t fight it.”

“I haven’t tried to in years,” Seungri says quietly, and Jiyong blinks twice, because Seungri’s voice… Jiyong leans over to the floor and picks up his water bottle, taking a healthy swig, before offering it to Seungri.

Seungri opens his mouth, like he always does, demanding Jiyong do it for him, and Jiyong pours water into it, careful not to spill it on Seungri’s face. Seungri swallows, and Jiyong doesn’t watch the movement of his throat.

“Awww,” another of the dancers says, and Seungri steps back, wiping at his lips with his hand and looking out to the side. “When’s the wedding?”

“Maknae wouldn’t marry me,” Jiyong says, and he somehow keeps a straight face. “He wouldn’t want to disappoint all his girlfriends.”

“Hyung is just fooling around, anyway,” Seungri says, and he’s studying his shoes. Still, his tone is strange. “It’s all just a game we play.”

“Maknae is my favorite, though,” Jiyong says, and Seungri squats down, shuffling through his backpack.

He emerges with his phone, and waves it at them in lieu of an excuse. He steps out into the hallway, and Jiyong gets caught up in a conversation with Miyong about Prada’s Fall 2013 collection, and before he knows it, it’s been fifteen minutes and maknae still hasn’t come back.

Jiyong steps out into the hallway, and he spies Seungri sitting on the floor, phone pressed to his ear as he laughs into the receiver. “So I’ll pick you up at eight?” Seungri says after a moment. “Okay, sounds great.”

“Hot date tonight, maknae?” Jiyong asks, and Seungri looks up at Jiyong but there’s nothing in his eyes. His camera-face.

“Yeah,” Seungri says. “It’s nice to feel wanted.”

“I don’t make you feel wanted?” Jiyong asks, before he can stop himself. He puts a big smile on his face, to make it a joke, but Seungri’s smile fades a bit in response. Jiyong wonders if that kiss will always be between them.

Jiyong doesn’t like it when things are his fault.

“Oh, you do,” Seungri says. “But that’s just for fun, right?” Seungri runs a hand through his hair. “I’m an easy target. Pick on the maknae.”

Jiyong grabs Seungri’s wrist, letting his fingers lock around it loosely, and his thumb strokes the skin on the inside, there, for a moment, as Seungri toys with the volume control on his phone.

Maknae has a date, and Jiyong has responsibilities. “Right,” Jiyong says, and Seungri frees his wrist from Jiyong’s hold.

“Well, let’s get back to work!” Seungri says cheerfully, and he hooks his thumbs on his elastic waistband. “I’ve got to be out of here by seven or so.”

Jiyong throws an arm around Seungri’s shoulders, squishing him a little, and Seungri leans into the touch, just a little.

“Yes,” Jiyong says, and whatever is between them… It can’t be more than this. “Let’s go, Victory.”

Seungri gives him the ‘V’ with his fingers, and Jiyong focuses on the choreography, and the music, and everything but how he feels like crying.

#

Seungri is the perfect name for Little-Seunghyun, who won’t always be little. Victory. Jiyong likes the way it sounds on his lips, rolling off his tongue and sounding sweet in the air, in Korean and in English.

Seungri likes to win. He likes to win Jiyong’s attention, the world’s attention, and he covets all those eyes because they reassure him that he’s really here, that he’s famous and special and all those things he’s always wanted to be. He craves it in the same way Jiyong craves it, but he’s more honest about it, demanding attention with his loud voice and his puppy-dog eyes, and he’s pretty enough that everyone gives it to him.

Plus, at the end of the day, it’s Jiyong he wants to look at him most, and Jiyong thinks that’s sort of a Victory too.

#

Their suits are the color of cotton candy. Jiyong personally adds rhinestones and appliqués to the lapels, and Seungri laughs and says they should wear bow-ties, so they do. Jiyong’s shirt has ruffles along the outer edges of the buttons, but Seungri’s doesn’t; he’d taken one look at Jiyong’s choice and said “Abso-fucking-lutely not,” and Jiyong had already anticipated that, and gave Seungri a plain tuxedo shirt to wear underneath his.

They’re shooting the album covers today, so the make-up artist takes extra care with Jiyong’s eyeliner, making it slightly darker and thicker because she’s using brown instead of black. “It’ll make your eyes look less intense,” she says, like Jiyong doesn’t read all the same beauty magazines she does. “To suit your cute image, this time around.”

It’s weird to be on set with just Seungri. Usually, Jiyong is constantly having to redirect maknae’s attention to himself, when it strays, grabbing at him playfully until Seungri’s making faces at him and doing tiny impersonations just to make Jiyong laugh.

But today Seungri is completely focused on Jiyong, and Jiyong likes that. He thinks Seungri likes it too, because Seungri is acting even more over the top than usual, hamming it up so much that Jiyong’s pretty sure the camera guy would want to slap him if Jiyong wasn’t playing right back, which results in some ridiculous photos that will probably all make the CD booklet.

Yang Hyun Suk shows up halfway through the photoshoot, and watches them closely, which would make Jiyong feel nervous, only he’s distracted because Seungri has jumped on his back and is pretending like he’s about to take a bite out of Jiyong’s face, and Jiyong is laughing, and wondering, a little, if his suit is getting wrinkled.

“Jiyong,” Yang Hyun Suk says, when the photographer calls it a wrap, and Jiyong is laughing and following maknae back toward the dressing room. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir,” Jiyong says, and something about the serious look on Yang Hyun Suk’s makes Jiyong anxious. “About the shoot today, we were just having fun, and since the theme of the mini-album is-“

“It’s fine,” Yang Hyun Suk says. “The photos look great.” He pauses at the edge of the set, his baseball cap pulled low enough that Jiyong can’t see his eyes. “It’s not that.”

“Then…” Jiyong swallows. “Then what is it?” Jiyong immediately starts playing with his rings, twisting the skull one around and around and around as he waits. He wonders what it might be. Last time, Yang Hyun Suk had told him he was being investigated for drug use. Jiyong’s been more careful. There shouldn’t be anything to call him on.

“Jiyong, you know that the band comes first right?” Yang Hyun Suk says, and Jiyong doesn’t follow.

“Of course it does,” Jiyong says, wondering what his boss is talking about. “It’s always come first. I don’t know what I could have done to make you think it didn’t, but as leader-“

“I’m glad you’re all close, but BIGBANG is also a business,” Yang Hyun Suk continues. “And we don’t want anything to get in the way of that. Like a scandal.”

“A scandal?” Jiyong asks, and realization is making a home in his belly, an uncomfortable one that makes Jiyong shift his weight from foot to foot. “I…”

“It’s fine, if it’s for show,” Yang Hyun Suk says, and waves his hand in the direction of the set, where minutes ago Jiyong had been playing with Seungri, goofing off in front of the cameras. “But if it’s real, it becomes a big scandal.”

“Real?” Jiyong says. “That’s the last thing you need to worry about, sir.”

“Is it?” Yang Hyun Suk asks vaguely. “Jiyong, you’ve always been good at keeping secrets. But Seungri isn’t. Seungri’s very honest in everything he does. If there’s something going on, I need to know about it, because that’s the only way I can keep it out of the press.”

“There’s nothing,” Jiyong says. “There’s nothing, sir.” And resolve hardens like coal into a diamond. Nothing.

“If there is, I expect to know,” Yang Hyun Suk says. “I don’t want to control you, but this is a business and-“

“You don’t have anything to worry about, sir,” Jiyong says. Yang Hyun Suk nods, and excuses himself, and Jiyong runs to the bathroom.

He kneels in front of the toilet and vomits into the bowl, shaking, as he replays the conversation over and over again in his head. “I’m so stupid,” he says aloud to himself, and it rings in the empty bathroom.

The door opens.

“Are you all right, hyung?” Seungri asks. “One of the staff said they saw you run in here…”

“Go away,” Jiyong croaks, and his throat is raw and he can’t seem to stop shivering.

“You sound terrible,” Seungri says, and he pushes into the stall, squatting down and wrapping his arms loosely around Jiyong’s waist. “What happened?”

Jiyong lets himself lean back against Seungri’s chest. “Nothing,” Jiyong says. “Nothing at all.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Seungri says.

“It has to be,” Jiyong replies, and then he heaves again. Seungri stands up and goes to the sink. He wets a paper towel and returns, pressing it to Jiyong’s forehead.

“Does it?” Seungri asks, and he’s pensive, Jiyong can hear the inflection in his voice even over the roaring in his own ears. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I’m weak,” Jiyong says. “I have to make myself be strong.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Seungri says, and Jiyong’s hands hold the edge of the toilet bowl in a white knuckled grip, and he doesn’t feel strong. “Let’s get you home.”

Seungri insists on taking Jiyong home himself, instructing their driver to take them both to Jiyong’s flat, and he’s got an arm across Jiyong’s back the whole time, and Jiyong doesn’t resist, just allows Seungri to fuss over him because he can tell it makes Seungri feel better.

Jiyong walks straight in and shucks his shoes and jacket, leaving Seungri at the door. He can hear Seungri turning Jiyong’s shoes the way Jiyong likes them, and hanging Jiyong’s jacket in the closet. He can hear Seungri doing something else in the living room, but Jiyong just wraps his arms around himself and makes a ball of his body on the bed. Tomorrow, it’ll be fine. Tomorrow.

It’s not until around nine, as Seungri comes into Jiyong’s room to curl up around him, turning Jiyong so that Seungri’s nose can press into Jiyong’s neck, that Jiyong remembers Seungri had plans.

“Weren’t you going out with your friends tonight in Gangnam, maknae?”

“You don’t really think I’m going anywhere, right?” Seungri asks, stretching his legs and forcing Jiyong to shift to give him more room. “I canceled, obviously.”

“Oh,” Jiyong says, and Seungri exhales. His breath is hot on Jiyong’s neck.

“I have to be up at six for a radio interview,” Seungri says. “Don’t let me oversleep.”

“I thought you were taking care of me?” Jiyong jokes half-heartedly, but he’s already sliding his hands soothingly up and down Seungri’s back, lulling him to sleep just like he did when Seungri was still just a kid. When they were both still just kids.

“I am,” Seungri says. “By letting you take care of me.”

Jiyong wants to kiss him. This, Jiyong thinks, is Heartbreak.



PART THREE