KPop: Starts (GDragon/Seungri, R) [3/4]

[maayacolabackup]

*


Smile. Laugh. Tell a bad joke. Play a prank. Smile again. Someone will jokingly insult him, and Seungri will laugh it off, brushing the remarks off his shoulders like they’re nothing but snowflakes, and things will move forward. Lather, rinse, repeat. It’s been like this ever since he became Seungri instead of Little Seunghyun. Ever since he survived his second chance and became the last member of BIGBANG. The youngest. The one who’d had to prove everything all over again, eyes heavy as he sang. The one YG hoped would ‘grow’.

Sometimes, he thinks Seungri has grown. Seungri is strong. Seungri can take the coldest of winters, and Seungri stands tall even in a blizzard.

Seungri knows his role, by now, and he’s exceptionally good at falling into the rhythm of it. It’s not a very complicated dance, after all, and Seungri’s always been the best at choreography.

Sometimes, he thinks that’s enough. Sometimes, he starts to fear it isn’t.


*


Everyone thinks Daesung is the member with the most secrets. They might be right, but Seungri has a lot of secrets too. He buries them alive, and they squirm and press up against the soil and scream for air, please, air. In the end though, the secrets always quiet in their graves, and Seungri’s heart is left a little heavier behind his smile.

Seungri has never told anyone about the way Jiyong finds him in the dark, whisper of his hands like fire on Seungri’s skin. He’s never told anyone, and it’s the most painful secret he’s ever kept.

Seungri’s heart is a secret, and Seungri is scared that when it quiets, like all the other secrets eventually do, Seungri will never be able to love anyone else.


*


have you seen jiyong? says the text from Seunghyun. Another quickly follows. manager is looking for him and he’s not in his room.

Seungri blinks blearily at his phone, before turning to look at Jiyong. Jiyong’s shirt is soaked through with sweat, and the remnants his eyeliner is smudged around his eyes. Seungri stretches and arm up, and Jiyong is hot… too hot, and Seungri sighs and types a response on his phone.

he’s with me, Seungri replies. fever. Jiyong shifts as he types, and Seungri pulls Jiyong against his chest. He knows Jiyong is sick because Jiyong doesn’t protest, just grabs onto Seungri tightly and pushes his face into Seungri’s neck. He’s burning up.

Their manager lets herself into the room, and Seunghyun is hot at her heels. She doesn’t say anything about Jiyong wrapped up in Seungri’s arms, but Seunghyun gives him a long, measuring look.

Manager-noona sits on the bed and pulls a thermometer out of her tiny first aid kit. “Seungri, get out of my way,” she says, and Seungri moves to comply, but Jiyong whines when Seungri moves, and hooks his ankle around Seungri’s, and Seungri smiles at her sheepishly.

“He’s always a baby when he gets sick,” she mutters, and Seungri pats Jiyong on the arm gently.

“I’m not leaving you,” Seungri whispers into Jiyong’s ear, and Jiyong’s forehead smoothes. “You’re sick. Our manager-noona will take care of you.”

Jiyong relaxes, and Seungri slides off the bed, standing up next to Seunghyun.

“That’s why you didn’t come out last night?”

“He asked me not to,” Seungri says, not meeting Seunghyun’s intense gaze. “He asked me to stay. So I stayed.” Seungri scratches at his neck. “I didn’t know he’d get so sick or I would have called you back earlier.”

“You’ll really do whatever he wants, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Seungri admits, and he looks down at his feet. He’s got a blister from one of his new pairs of stage shoes. It doesn’t hurt much. “Mostly?”

“Do you ever ask for anything back?” Seunghyun nudges Seungri with his elbow, and the look in his eyes, when Seungri meets his gaze, is calm and understanding.

Seungri doesn’t want to be understood. Seungri wants to not feel this at all.

“Jiyong’s always told me not to demand too much from him,” Seungri says, and Seunghyun nods.

“Let’s get breakfast,” Seunghyun says, changing the subject. “Since I’m up at this ungodly hour anyway.”

“Missing your mom’s cooking?”

“My mom is an amazing cook,” Seunghyun replies. “You’d miss it too.”

“Momma’s boy.”

Jiyong opens his eyes just as Seungri turns to check on him.

“Maknae,” he says, and Seungri never says no.

“Ah, looks like I’ll be going with Daesung, then,” Seunghyun says, and Seungri sits down on his bed. “Later, kid.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Seungri says, and locks Jiyong’s fingers with his own.

“You’ll get sick too,” their manager says, and Seungri smiles at her, and remembers how she’d cried and hugged him, back when they’d both thought he was going home, another trainee that didn’t make it.

“No, I won’t,” Seungri says, and he brushes Jiyong’s hair back from his face. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I worry about you the most,” she says, and pats his hand.

“I’m strong,” Seungri says, and she smiles, round cheeks stretching.

“You are,” she says. “But you’re the baby.” She stands. “You’ll stay with him? I have to make a phone call to Korea.”

“Yeah,” Seungri says. “I’ll stay.”

When she leaves, Seungri lies down next to Jiyong, propping his head up on his hand, elbow digging into the mattress.

“Strong baby,” Jiyong murmurs, and Seungri wonders if he’ll ever truly be able to escape the way just being next to Jiyong makes him feel like the rest of his life is in black and white, and only these moments are in color.


*


“It felt like I was sinning every time I looked at people. It was sort of a depression.” - G-Dragon


*


The only thing Jiyong has ever stolen is Seungri’s heart.

He certainly has never stolen art.

Jiyong wrings each note out of himself in a painful process, screaming at his bedroom walls and crying in the bathroom when he thinks no one is listening. He pretends that it’s easy for him when people ask, but it’s not. He etches the words into his skin with his own hands, nails leaving crescents of frustration behind as he moves the words around in his head, biting down on his tongue, brow furrowed as he stares into nothing.

The start of Seungri seeing Jiyong as someone he wants to protect is when the internet explodes with a plagiarism scandal.

Seungri remembers when Jiyong was writing Heartbreaker. Every piece of that song came from Jiyong’s failing relationship with Mizuhara Kiko, whose exotic beauty had captivated Jiyong from the moment he saw her in a magazine. She was wild and untamable, and Jiyong had been caught in her spell.

Seungri had thought, then, that Jiyong might have found a new muse. Seungri had prepared himself to return to Jiyong looking through him instead of at him. For distance to appear between them, somehow.

It hadn’t happened. And then there’d been Heartbreaker. Kiko had served as a muse one last time before she faded away like all the others.

When Jiyong gets accused of plagiarism, he destroys the kitchen. He breaks a chair, three glasses, and the left cabinet where they keep cereal and the uncooked rice. He screams and screams, and only Seungri is around to hear him.

The accusation tears Jiyong apart. It’s the first time Seungri has felt like Jiyong might need him to be strong for him instead of because of him.

“It’ll be okay.” And Seungri pulls Jiyong into his side. Jiyong fights the hug at first, hissing and coiling his muscles up tight like Seungri is grasping an armful of serpents, but then Jiyong seems to lose all tension, collapsing into Seungri’s embrace. “It’ll be okay.”

“When did you grow up?” Jiyong whispers, later, and Seungri smiles into the crown of his head.

“A long time ago,” Seungri says. “I had to.”

“Thank you,” Jiyong says, and Seungri wonders if it’s normal to feel like one person is the center of your entire world.

Seungri starts to think it isn’t.


*

”You should date seriously,” Jiyong says. “Your music will get better. Your writing will feel more real.” He doesn’t look at Seungri.

“I just need to find the right girl,” Seungri replies, spinning his bracelet on his wrist. It’s become as much of a tick as Jiyong and his rings, and he does it when he’s thinking. Another thing he’s picked up from his hyung. “Before dating again.”

“What kind of girl is the right girl maknae?” Jiyong fiddles with the dials, and Seungri licks his lips.

“A girl kind of like you,” Seungri says, and Jiyong looks over his shoulder.

“You don’t want a girl like me, maknae. You don’t want a person like me to love you.”

“Why not?” Seungri says, and Jiyong scratches at the side of his face with his index finger, the way he’s taken to doing so he doesn’t mess up his caked on stage make-up.

“Because someone like me will tear you apart,” Jiyong says finally, and Seungri starts to think it might be a price he’s willing to pay.

He gives Jiyong Sonagi tickets. It’s Seungri’s ex-girlfriend who comes to the show that night, and Seungri almost cries.


*


Jiyong’s beaten the worst of his illness by the time they make it to Las Vegas.

Seungri doesn’t catch whatever Jiyong’s got, despite the fact that he spent four days lying next to a cranky, sickly Jiyong who kept demanding Seungri order terrible, calorie-ridden things from room service and almost refused to let Seungri take showers. They switched back and forth between his room and Jiyong’s, so room service had the chance to clean, and Jiyong treated them both like they were his room, tossing his things around and moving Seungri’s books off the bedside tables. Jiyong refused to see a doctor, because he only trusts the one Yang Hyun Suk keeps on staff, so they’d just had to wait it out.

Seungri didn’t mind; after all these years, he’s used to most of Jiyong’s quirks.

What’s new is the way Jiyong clung to him even more than usual. “Don’t leave,” he’d said, over and over again, as his fever broke on the first day. “Maknae,” he’d croak, and grab for pieces of Seungri’s clothes as if to hold him close.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Seungri murmured to Jiyong’s sleeping face, and Jiyong had shifted, eyes flickering open.

“Because they always leave.” Jiyong’s words were barely audible, but Seungri heard them anyway.

“Where am I going to go?” Seungri replied, and Jiyong had just moved closer, all harsh angles, composed of elbows, knees, and cold feet.

He texts Dara when he’s bored, and sometimes Jonghyun will send him stupid Youtube videos, but Seungri, for the most part, just watches Jiyong sleep and fends off the teasing of their bandmates who joke about how Seungri is too pliant to Jiyong’s whims.

By the time they were on the plane to Toronto, Jiyong could stay awake for stretches of three or four hours at a time. It was enough to get them on the airplane.

Now, Jiyong is back to being prickly and distant, only allowing Seungri close on his own terms. It’s hard, but in some ways, it’s a relief to Seungri’s battered heart. It gives him a chance to start rebuilding the walls he’d let slip during the short week when Jiyong had been vulnerable. He’d allowed himself to soak up Jiyong’s warmth.

Now, Seungri has to remind himself that reality isn’t nearly as simple.

Vegas, contrary to New York, looks exactly like it did the last time BIGBANG had come. Seungri is still thrilled by the casinos and the women, and Youngbae still loves the way the music plays in the streets from the stores- American stuff, like what he listens to on his iPod.

Daesung is taking playful abuse from Seunghyun, and they’re too busy laughing at each other to pay attention to where they are. Seungri knows that later, Seunghyun will be off investigating the food, and Daesung will probably buy really slutty t-shirts.

Jiyong is on the phone most of the time. While he was sick, he’d left it off, and now he’s almost glued to it. That’s okay, because it gives Seungri a reason to keep away, even if he doesn’t particularly want to.

“Do you love your girlfriend?” Seungri asks, when they’re all out with their manager, enjoying a free afternoon, because he has a sick desire to know. “The new one?”

“No,” Jiyong says gruffly, locking his phone and slipping it into the pocket of his jeans. His bracelet, the one that matches Seungri’s, clinks against his studded belt. “I’m going to break up with her.”

“Just like that?” Seungri asks, surprised. “You never break up with your girlfriends. They always-“

“Break up with me?” Jiyong finishes. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Yes, that’s true.”

“You’re always falling in love so quickly,” Seungri says, and he looks down the busy shopping street. He recognizes Daesung immediately, because his smile is so wide. He and Youngbae are pointing in the window of a shop, and Seungri thinks they’re looking at shoes.

“Not this time,” Jiyong says vaguely. “I can’t quite manage it, this time.”

“Why not?” Seungri asks, and regrets the question as soon as he asks it. It’s too invasive. “Ah, never mind. I’m not one to talk. I go through three or four girlfriends a minute.”

“You do like to be bitten.” A leer. “Have you ever been in love, maknae?” Jiyong looks up at the sky and the sun beats down on him, casting his face into a stunning mix of highlights and shadows.

“Yeah,” Seungri says, and it’s like all the sand of the Nevada desert is in his throat. He tries to subtly clear it, but not much about Seungri is subtle.

“Really?” Jiyong says, suddenly completely focused on Seungri. “I never knew. I mean… I thought you’d say no.” Jiyong laughs, and it reminds Seungri, suddenly, of the last time they were in Las Vegas. The way Jiyong had been so bright Seungri had sought relief on the neon casino floors. “Keeping secrets from me now, maknae?”

”Stop disappearing on us, maknae,” Seunghyun had said. “We keep thinking you’ve died. And then being disappointed when you come back.”

“Hyung!” Youngbae shakes his head in mock dismay, but he’s also laughingly dancing in his seat.

“It’ll never be that easy,” Seungri replied with a laugh, and Jiyong had rested his hand on Seungri’s thigh and Seungri had felt adored.

“Where do you keep going?”

“Does it matter?” Seungri asks. He’s not really going places. Just admiring the clear sky from the hotel roof. Breathing fresh air. But he’s got a reputation to uphold.

“Keeping secrets from me now, maknae?” Jiyong asks, and Seungri wants to tell him everything.

“It’s not like it was…” Seungri licks his lips, “important.”

“One of your girlfriends?” Jiyong slides his sunglasses on, and now Seungri can’t read the expression on his face. “Which one?”

“Like you’d even know who I was talking about,” Seungri says with a laugh, and his hands slip into his pockets. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, and Jiyong frowns.

“Of course I would,” Jiyong says. “I know all your girlfriends.” The way Jiyong clips the end of the sentence doesn’t invite questions, even if Seungri wants to ask him why he’d bother.

Seungri sighs. “It’s not one of them, anyway.” Seungri runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting long again. He’ll get it cut when they go home. “It’s more of the unrequited kind.”

“Oh,” Jiyong says. “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am,” Seungri says, and even through the sunglasses, Seungri can feel Jiyong’s eyes boring into him. “Let’s catch up to the others.”


*


Jiyong gives him the bracelet unexpectedly one day. It isn’t a holiday, or a special occasion, just Seungri sitting outside, legs stuck through the railing and dangling below, forehead pressed against the metal as he surveys the quiet street.

Jiyong shoves a nondescript package into Seungri’s hand. “For you,” Jiyong says, and then he pinches Seungri’s cheek.

It’s heavy on Seungri’s wrist, the intricate silver woven in a knot-like pattern that both catches the light and shies from it. Out here, on the balcony, it catches both the shadows and the tiny glimmers of moonlight.

“Because,” Jiyong says. “Maknae is-”

“You like Youngbae best,” Seungri says, and Jiyong smiles; it’s a real one, and it makes something swell between Seungri’s ribs, something so massive that Seungri feels like it will fill him up and spill out of his ears and mouth and nose until his feelings are all out in the open for Jiyong to see. “Don’t tease me.”

“No,” and he straightens the bracelet so that the clasp is hidden underneath. “I like Youngbae differently. You are my muse.”

“I see,” and Jiyong is leaning forward, leaving a soft kiss on Seungri’s forehead. Seungri is giddy with emotions he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to understand them, because in the morning, Jiyong will snap at him or ignore him, and they’ll fade, disappearing back underneath the anxious feelings of wanting to do his best.

“Thank you for giving me my words,” Jiyong whispers, and Seungri is afraid he might catch on fire.


*


Daesung is quiet. It’s just him and Seungri watching television in Seungri’s room, the volume up loud as they cook instant noodles by heating water in the coffee pot and pouring it into the cardboard containers. Seungri had begged out of dinner with the band tonight, because he’s exhausted and because he needs a moment of space. Distance. Daesung joins him, because Daesung, for all his cheerful grins and loud, self-deprecating humor, is an introvert, and being around so many people for so long makes him stressed.

So the two youngest watch cartoons on cable in a language they don’t understand, just soaking in the silence.

“I think I’m stupid,” Seungri says aloud, licking the ramen broth off his lips. It tastes like salt and bad carbohydrates. Seungri will go for a run tomorrow. He likes taking advantage of relative anonymity.

“Why?” Daesung asks. His face is inscrutable, and he’s watching the screen carefully, smiling as the little cartoon hero gets into mishaps at school, but Seungri knows he’s listening. Daesung is always listening.

“Have you ever felt something you knew you weren’t supposed to feel?” Seungri tries not to think about the way Jiyong had looked at him, eyes bright with fever, and asked him to stay. He tries not to think about it, because he knows it doesn’t mean what Seungri needs it to mean.

What they have is not a relationship. Seungri is Jiyong’s only constant muse.

“Of course I have,” Daesung says, and then he hesitates. His bangs come down and cover his eyes. “Everyone has.”

“What do you do?” Seungri looks down at his sweatpants, and finds a lose thread to wind around his finger. “When you feel like you’re going slowly insane with it?”

“I pray,” Daesung shakes his head and bites his lip. “Or I tell myself that I can get through it. That I’m strong enough to do anything.”

“Strong?” Seungri says, and the word tastes funny on his tongue. He picks up his noodles and shoves more into his mouth, wooden chopsticks scratching against his teeth.

“You’re strong,” Daesung drinks the last of the broth from his noodle cup. “We’re all strong. We’ve had to be.”

“I feel weak,” Seungri says, and Daesung looks up at him, eyes revealing nothing. He puts a steady, comforting hand on Seungri’s shoulder, though, and Seungri appreciates it.

“You’re not,” Daesung says. He clears his throat. “Is this about Jiyong?”

“What?” Seungri can feel his eyes widen. “What are you-“

“When you’re not talking, it’s easier to listen. Easier to watch.” Daesung shrugs.

It’s like a hurricane inside of him. Seungri’s not sure what to feel, but the wind is harsh.

“I think I’m stupid,” Seungri says, finally, and Daesung chuckles.

“Aren’t we all?” Daesung looks up at the ceiling. Seungri wonders if he’s looking up at his God. “Aren’t we all?”


*


Doubt starts all the time. So does surety.

“Why do you keep coming back?” Jiyong says, and Seungri wipes his wet eyes.

“Because I’m your favorite,” Seungri replies, and Jiyong furrows his brow.

“You’re going to let me shatter you,” and Jiyong looks at Seungri- at, not through, and Seungri clutches nervously at his own knees.

“I’m strong,” Seungri says, and Jiyong laughs. It’s a raw, rough sound.

“No one is that strong.” Jiyong lights a cigarette. “No one has ever been that strong.” He takes a deep inhale. “You’ll never be able to take it.”

“I’ll try,” Seungri says, and the smoke stings in his nose and lungs.

Seungri wants to be a branch strong enough for Jiyong to stand on.


*


Jiyong ends things with his girlfriend when they get off the plane in Los Angeles. He doesn’t cry, and he doesn’t make a show of it. He just turns off his smart phone and slips it into his pocket, and doesn’t look at it anymore for the entire ride to the hotel in their overpriced taxi, and that’s how Seungri knows.

“It’s fine,” Jiyong brushes Seungri’s hand with the back of his own, and Seungri puts his hands in his pockets. Jiyong fiddles with his rings. He’s wearing four today, thick and silver and perfect for twisting in circles. Jiyong has his habits. “I’m no good for her.”

“Hyung…”

“I’m no good for anyone,” Jiyong says, and his eyes are looking out the taxi window. It’s just the two of them in this car, and their taxi driver doesn’t speak Korean, probably, so it feels like they’re alone. “I destroy everything I touch.”

“You create music.” Seungri shifts, and Jiyong just keeps staring at the highway. “You create art.”

“At what cost?” Jiyong says. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not.” Seungri gulps, and pulls one hand free to grab Jiyong’s hand. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Jiyong says. “Since Korea.”

“I stayed with you. When you were sick.”

“And I got better, and you were gone again.” The taxi slows as they pull up into the hotel courtyard.

“Gone where?” Seungri asks. “Where can I go?” Seungri snort. “Where, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Jiyong says. “But I can feel you... pulling away.” Jiyong turns and pins Seungri with his gaze. “Inspiration is fleeting.”

“You don’t have to chase me,” Seungri says, as the taxi pulls to a stop. “I just-”

“Why?” Jiyong asks, and the driver makes an impatient sound.

“Because I’m weak,” Seungri says, and Jiyong’s eyes widen, before he looks away. “Because you’ve told me not to demand too much.” They get out of the car as their manager pays the driver. Jiyong walks around the car to stand next to Seungri. “Just give me… I’ll come back.”

“Have I finally pushed you away, maknae?” Jiyong’s voice is gentle. “You lasted longer than the rest.”

“No, hyung, I-“

Seungri just needs space. Time. Seungri needs to bury these feelings back where he’d kept them for all these years, before he realized, with a sickening lurch, what they were.

That’s not what Jiyong needs or wants from him.

Jiyong falls in love with girls, letting them break his heart.

Seungri just waits around for his heart to get broken, again and again. Seungri keeps trying to pass all the tests, but Jiyong keeps changing the rules.

Jiyong links their arms together, and presses a showy kiss to his cheek as Seunghyun walks over to them.

“Gross,” he says. “And now I don’t want lunch.”

“Yeah right,” Seungri says, and Seunghyun raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, maknae’s claws are out.” Seunghyun smirks. “Haven’t gotten a fat joke from you in a while.”

“I’m tired,” Seungri says, and Jiyong’s lip gloss is sticky at the corner of his mouth.

He pulls his arm free from Jiyong’s – how do they always manage to get tangled up around each other?- and adjusts his shoulder bag.

“Are you getting sick?” Manager walks up to them, her eyes narrowed in concern. “You look pale.”

“No,” Seungri says, and he accepts his room key from her with a smile. “I’m going ahead,” he says, and heads for the elevator. He gets in and presses the button for the ninth floor, and as the doors close, Jiyong slips between them.

They are alone in the elevator. “I’m no good for anyone,” Jiyong says into the space between them. “But I can’t leave you alone.”

In Seungri’s room, Jiyong unpacks his computer and rests it on Seungri’s stomach to compose, and the heat of the machine burns him through the thin material of his t-shirt. Seungri is painfully aware of the warmth of Jiyong’s forearm as it rests across his pectorals.

Seungri closes his eyes, and enjoys their closeness, even as it aches.

“Thank you for liking me,” Jiyong whispers, and Seungri doesn’t cry.


*


”Really, I’m so thankful to Seungri for liking me so much, even though I’m always bullying him. I want to respect him more, as a man, from now on.”-- G-Dragon


*


Reality starts to mix with an industry-constructed fantasy.

“They’re always playing,” Yang Hyun Suk says, as the camera follows him into their dorm in Japan. “Those two are always like this.”

Seungri wants to tell him that they aren’t. That sometimes the only sound is Jiyong’s pen scratching on paper and Seungri’s heart trying to beat out of his chest.


*


Seungri breaks the bracelet Jiyong gave him while they are on the GO Show. He’s laughing, and jumping around, and it falls from his wrist and it breaks.

He finds all the pieces during intermission, and tucks them into his pocket, and later, when he’s alone, he takes the pieces out and looks at them. He wants to cry.

“It’s just a bracelet,” Jiyong says, when he sees Seungri’s face. He closes Seungri’s fingers around the pieces, and smiles. “It’s not a big deal.” The pieces are cold and heavy in Seungri’s palm. It’s ‘Jiyong jewelry’, intricate and thick and masculine. It’s also Seungri jewelry, because the first time Jiyong had slipped it onto his wrist and told him it was a present, Seungri had thought it felt like a handcuff, or a collar. He’d found it comforting.

“You gave me this bracelet,” Seungri says dumbly, and his eyes are wet, maybe. He’s not sure, really, only that the bracelet is important to him. It represents things to Seungri that he can’t name aloud, and that he won’t let himself give voice to. “It’s the only thing you’ve ever given me.”

“So get it fixed,” Jiyong says, and Seungri looks down and examines the pieces.

“Not sure if it can be fixed,” Seungri says, and the words stick in his throat. “You can’t fix everything you break.”

“I know,” Jiyong says, and he takes a step back. His eyes lock with Seungri’s, and his voice is like velvet, but the words cut like knives. “Have I broken you yet, maknae?”

“No,” Seungri says, and he tears his eyes away, because it’s probably a lie.

A necessary one, because Jiyong can be just like a child, and children don’t like broken toys.


*


Their last concert is in Mexico. They’re all tired and on edge, the constant plane flights driving them a little bit insane with exhaustion, and everyone is shorter-tempered than usual.

Jiyong is like a hedgehog, spikes puffing out whenever anyone tries to talk to him, so Seungri leaves well enough alone. It’s a nice respite from the feelings that wrap long slender fingers around his neck and choke him.

He spends time with Youngbae, who has no temper to speak of, and for the first two days in Mexico, Seungri thinks he’ll make it back to Korea in one piece.

When they get home, they’ll have a break. There will still be work, but it will be separately- Youngbae is working on a solo album, and GD&TOP will probably record an album. Daesung’s solo album, which is complete and ready, is finally going to get released, and he’ll have promotions. Seungri is going to MC his first show as a permanent host.

Seungri just has to keep his eyes on that. The few months apart will be good. He’ll be able to take all these raw, exposed emotions and shove them back down, and then everything will be fine again. Seungri will go on dates with fifty girls during the month of January, and learn their names and favorite colors and birthdays, and maybe the fifty-first girl will be the one he keeps seeing in February. He’ll make Youngbae spend money on useless things so he doesn’t sit at home alone in his free time, and Seungri will recover. He’ll get over it, so when BIGBANG is all together again… When it’s time to record a new album, Seungri will be better. He’ll have convinced himself, all over again, that he is strong, and that he’s fine.

He won’t want to demand that Jiyong look at him. He won’t feel Jiyong coming into his space and want to drag him closer. He won’t want to tell Jiyong he loves him, really loves him, like that, and that he wants him to fall in love with Seungri this time. That he wants him to stop dating all these girls and look at what’s right here in front of him. He won’t keep remembering the one night Jiyong had kissed him, touched him, took him: the one they never talk about, because it never should have happened.

Seungri will stop feeling like the branch destined to fall. Seungri will have survived the winter.

Just three more days, Seungri thinks.

“Seungri.” Youngbae’s eyes are sympathetic. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Eventually,” Seungri says, and Youngbae sighs.

“You’re strong, maknae.”

“Not as strong as everyone seems to think.” Seungri admires the city below them, tan streets laid out like a maze. Youngbae takes another sip of his bottled water. Seungri’s drinking tequila.

“Stronger,” Youngbae says, and claps Seungri on the shoulder. “He’s my best friend, so I know this better than anyone…”

“Know what?” Seungri asks.

“He likes you better than he likes anyone else. For what it’s worth, you really are his favorite.”

“For what it’s worth,” Seungri echoes, and he finishes his drink in one shot.


*


That time, the one they don’t talk about, the one they both pretend they don’t remember, finishes with Seungri’s aching thighs, Jiyong spent and heavy on his chest.

“Do you know why I like you best, maknae?” Jiyong pants, and Seungri whines a no, shifting uncomfortably, trying to relieve the stress in his thighs and the slight soreness in his lower body. “Because you’ve seen the worst of me.”

Seungri exhales, and when he breathes in again, the air smells like sweat and sex and like Jiyong’s shampoo, girls’ shampoo that he makes their manager-noona buy for him when she gets the groceries.

“You’ve seen the ugliest parts of me and you’re still here, looking at me like I hang the moon every night. Looking at me like I’m amazing.”

“You are amazing,” Seungri whispers helplessly, and Jiyong nuzzles his nose into Seungri’s hair, sliding off to the side, and the cold air hits Seungri all at once. With it comes reality.

“If I were you, and you were me,” Jiyong says, “I wouldn’t keep coming back.”

“I’m not you,” Seungri replies, and Jiyong laughs, etching words into Seungri’s sticky belly with his index finger, his nail tickling the hair there.

“Maknae, do you love me?” Jiyong asks, and Seungri doesn’t answer. He just closes his eyes and tries to understand the words that Jiyong draws on his skin.

도망가지 마라, 피하지 마라.

Don’t run away from me, don’t escape.

Seungri couldn’t even if he tried.

Seungri is the branch that shakes in the wind, hanging on barely to a tree much stronger than he’ll ever be.

Seungri starts to wonder if Jiyong will be the end of him.


*


Seunghyun finds them at nightfall. “We’re going out,” he announces. “Blowing off steam.”

“Sweet,” Youngbae says, in English, and Seungri laughs.

“No pole dancing,” he says, and Youngbae snaps his fingers like he’s put out.

“You’re right,” he says. “The ladies might hurt themselves trying to get at me.”

“You’ve been watching too many Usher music videos,” Daesung says, peeking his head around Seunghyun’s body in the doorway. “Change your clothes, before Jiyong-hyung gets impatient.”

Seungri grins, feeling cautiously optimistic. He loves people, and going out sounds like a fun way to hang out with new ones. They’re in a pretty touristy area of Mexico City, so he’s not really worried about sticking out. “Are you sure noona won’t kill us?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Seunghyun says, wiggling his brows, and Daesung rolls his eyes.

“Jiyong-hyung and I already asked. She said it’s fine as long as we come back before daybreak and don’t bring any stranger girls with us.”

“Sounds fair,” Youngbae says, and he’s already touching his hair thoughtfully, obviously trying to decide between fixing it and a hat.

The streets are noisy, and Seungri loves it. He hasn’t felt so in-his-element in days, and his eyes are already scouting places that look interesting to remember for later. Everything is alive despite the hour.

They end up at a salsa bar, and Seunghyun is delighted at not being the only one who doesn’t know this dance. Seungri just enjoys the music, ordering another tequila sunrise and moving his head to the music. Jiyong, who is sitting across from him, is drinking two drinks to Seungri’s every one, slowly sipping and watching the bar with dark eyes. A girl with dark hair approaches the table, and smiles at Seungri.

“Would you like to dance?” she asks, in clear English, and Seungri smiles at her.

“Yes,” he says. “But I don’t know how.” He pronounces the words loudly and carefully, and she smiles, and offers him her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him up and into the crowd.

The steps are easy enough, and Seungri catches on quickly, swirling her around and smiling shyly when she comes in closer. The song slows down, and he drops his hands to her hips, enjoying the way they sway beneath his palms. He can feel the drinks now, making his thoughts less clear, and she’s so pretty… her lips are a perfect bow. They remind him of Jiyong’s.

“You’re handsome,” she says. “And you dance well.”

“Thank you,” he says, and she drags him deeper into the crowd, and Seungri just moves with the music, forgetting, for a while, all the stress.

“Can I cut in?” says a familiar voice in unaccented English, and Seungri blinks, the spell broken. Jiyong stands in front of him, and Seungri’s hands fall from his dance partner’s waist.

Seungri expects Jiyong to dance with her, but it’s Seungri he claims, dragging Seungri back into the press of bodies. And of course Jiyong’s picked up salsa by watching, because Jiyong’s good at everything, and Seungri isn’t surprised by much anymore.

Jiyong’s breath smells like tequila too, and like pomegranates, and like the salt around the edge of his margarita glass, and Seungri can feel it on his cheeks and against his eyelashes as Jiyong looks up at him.

“Since when are you taller than me?” Jiyong slurs, and he’s drunk, but so is Seungri, so maybe this is okay.

“I have been for a while,” Seungri replies.

Jiyong dances against him with a fierceness, like he’s trying to mold them into one person, and Seungri keeps wondering if the others can see them. He hopes they can’t because Seungri shouldn’t be doing this, and Jiyong shouldn’t be doing this, and it’s not just because they’re in public, but it’s also because they’re Seungri and Jiyong, and it shouldn’t be so electric between them.

And yet, when Jiyong pulls him free from the crowd, and back out onto the street, sending a short text at Seunghyun (maknae is drunk so i’m taking him home), Seungri doesn’t fight him. Seungri just follows Jiyong’s lead, because Seungri doesn’t know how to say no, and he’s too drunk to want to.

The walk back to the hotel seems interminable, and the cool air wakes Seungri up, clears his head a little but not enough, and Jiyong seems to be looking at him more clearly too.

“Maknae,” he whispers, and the sound trickles down Seungri’s spine like honey, and Seungri takes his hand again and lets Jiyong pull him into the elevator.

Seungri’s room is closer, and Jiyong peels Seungri out of layer after layer with slow reverence, hands as steady as his eyes.

“How far will you let me push you?” Jiyong asks, and Seungri half sits, half trips onto the bed, Jiyong trailing after him with his mouth.

“As far as you want to,” Seungri admits. “I’m already broken.” There’s a hint of apology in his words. And then Jiyong kisses him, for the first time since that time, the one they never talk about that Seungri can never seem to forget. Like that time, Jiyong is relentless, his mouth claiming Seungri’s so thoroughly that Seungri wonders if, when the kiss ends, he’ll remember how to breathe on his own.

Maybe he won’t, and Jiyong will have to come back in and kiss him again.

“I don’t know why you think I don’t like broken things,” Jiyong says, and he slides his hand across the planes of Seungri’s chest, fingers lingering on dimples in the skin, along trails of hair and gooseflesh. Seungri can only lick his lips and let him. “I love broken things.”

Seungri’s head is foggy, the tequila making everything seem surreal. Jiyong seems to be moving in slow motion, but everything about him, in contrast, is crystal clear.

“Why?” Seungri asks, and he shudders as Jiyong finds the bones of his pelvis, dragging torturously slow across the space between them, below his navel. It’s like Seungri is on fire, and there’s no water; no relief from the burn Jiyong starts with his eyes and fans with his fingers, and Seungri is terrified one day he’ll just turn to ash and Jiyong will just watch.

“Because broken things can be beautiful,” Jiyong whispers against the skin of Seungri’s neck, and Seungri can feel Jiyong’s thin frame pressing against him, clinging to him, sweat-slick and hard and demanding. “I’m not religious.”

“I know,” Seungri says, and his voice cracks along the words, just two of them, that feel like they take everything Seungri has left to utter. Jiyong’s hand slips down to Seungri’s thigh, hand broad and flat along the muscle.

“But when I look at a church, sun coming in through those stained-glass windows, the light now a colored, fractured pattern along the floors and on my face, reds and blues and all the others pressing in on my eyelids… I think to myself this is beauty. This broken glass is beautiful.”

“That’s not broken glass,” Seungri says, and his tongue, made thick and unwieldy with liquor, can barely form the words. Jiyong stills, before he rolls so he’s on top of Seungri, hot chest pressing against Seungri’s own, arms on either side of Seungri’s torso to support his waist. He looks down at Seungri with half-lidded eyes. There’s a shadow of makeup on the lids, glitter and liner nothing but a smudge. “It’s art. That glass has been carved into those shapes and pieced back together to make something new.”

“You’re my art,” Jiyong says. “I’ve carved you up with my own two hands.”

And then he kisses Seungri again; he kisses the life out of him, stealing all of his air and all of his sanity and all of his dreams, swallowing them whole and filling Seungri with a whole new kind of emptiness when he pulls away again.

When will you put me back together? Seungri wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because when it’s just the two of them, Seungri isn’t loud. Seungri, like this, has nothing left to hide, because Jiyong knows it all, every single fractured piece. He’s cut Seungri into tiny parts with jagged edges, and Seungri’s lost a few along the way, maybe enough that he’ll never be something like whole ever again.

Seungri can feel his heart even through the numbness induced by tequila. His brain is working slowly, but not slowly enough.

Seungri never says no.

“You make me want to write,” Jiyong says, whispers, chants against his chest. “You make me want to create music.”

And he holds Seungri’s heart in his hand and squeezes, and Seungri lets him. Maybe, now, Seungri likes it, because Jiyong’s been holding his heart so long Seungri forgets what it feels like when it’s beating free.


Part Four

Comments

[ciel-dragon.livejournal.com]

This chapter was simply beautiful; as if the other ones weren't.
But really, this was a beautiful yet somehow calming chapter. If that makes any sense.

And can I love the reference about the stain glass because I am taking Art History at the moment and your description and imagery of it is so spot on.
And it was perfectly incorporated into the whole G-Ri situation. Very well done.

Again, I have no words because there is just too much, a good kind of too much, for me to comment on.
So instead, I will just silently love you and your stories.

[maayacola.livejournal.com]

The calm before the storm! I think this is the calmest chapter too! <3

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

“You’re my art,” Jiyong says. “I’ve carved you up with my own two hands.”

Ahhhhhh!

There's too many great parts to mention them all. I love that Yongbae tries the most earnestly to help, though, but he's too literal-minded; that TOP understands but the moment passes, and that's it; and I especially like Daesung's part, because I think what Daesung is saying is that they all get it - that feeling of being helplessly in love - but everyone else has the self-preservation instinct to either stay away, or draw lines, or at least hide a bit more convincingly.

“I’m no good for anyone,” Jiyong says, and his eyes are looking out the taxi window. It’s just the two of them in this car, and their taxi driver doesn’t speak Korean, probably, so it feels like they’re alone. “I destroy everything I touch.”

That's kinda sad, really.

[maayacola.livejournal.com]

That's my favorite line in the whole story. ^___^

I think the self-preservation is key... Seungri is really the only one who falls for this. Seunghyun wouldn't because he also does it... hell, he did it to Jiyong! Daesung is too guarded and Taeyang is guarded too, in a different way. But Seungri is the prefect target, because he wants to please people SO MUCH and he can't help that that part of himself has attached to Jiyong. And Jiyong likes that part of Seungri, too, because it's perfectly shaped to accomodate him. *___* it's broken, but in a lot of ways it WORKS, even though it leaves a bloody mess behind. I think, in the end, that's why I find G-Ri so fascinating... it's not a shipper thing, at all, it's that I think they're so wrong for each other but so magnetized toward each other, and a lot of the things that seemed wrong are actually all right in the end, because they're both so very very broken.

I think... Well, I think Jiyong is the tragic hero archetype, in a lot of ways. Jane Eyre's Mr. Rochester, or Cathy's Heathcliff.

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

"This", you mean the tortured artist thing? The "I will withhold my affections except when you act how I want you to" thing? Or something else?

I think Daesung and Taeyang were taken in as well, in the beginning, but they were never as dependent on Jiyong for every bit of approval...they both had to face a lot of opposition from the their families and I think it gave them a better sense of their own agency. I also think that Daesung and Taeyang took up singing because they literally couldn't imagine any other possibilities, whereas Seungri has also been able to imagine lots of possibilities - but not "failure" which in his mind is linked to total collapse. Whatever he's decided on, he has to stick with it until the end no matter what.

Daesung is definitely guarded though... like the interview where he talks about how his mother and sister and really emotional people and how much his father disapproved of that sort of open display of emotion from Daesung. And Taeyang used to define himself as "the calm and rational one," the one who knows GD the best and keeps his head in every situation.

Seungri, on the other hand, almost didn't have a choice because he's a completely externally validated person. When other people like him he likes himself, and when other people don't like him he doesn't like himself. (Which is why his charm is, "I really like you, Seungri!") I guess I also think he was primed to like GD because he was already this big TVXQ fan and that's another pretty messed up group... it's a big like he came in to Big Bang already thinking that was super cool.

I'd agree with you that Jiyong is tragic, but I see him as a fluke almost... just a snowballing of really improbable circumstances, starting with the lucky birth day and fluid gender conception (in GD's heart of hearts, I bet he thinks women are more powerful and scarier than men... actually I bet that's what most of Big Bang thinks). I think it must be terrifying to be him, because he can never have a stable self image, even apart from from the bipolar.... Meeting TOP and Taeyang was a great stroke of luck too, because sometimes I honestly think Jiyong is a rapper because of TOP and wants to conquer the world because of Taeyang... GDragon is a bit of a shapeshifter, it's not really clear to me what he's like, besides someone who likes to collect special people and is used to being the center of attention.

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

Typos everywhere. >_> Sorry. Anyway, I am intrigued by this: "Seunghyun wouldn't because he also does it... hell, he did it to Jiyong!" What do you mean?