KPop: Starts (GDragon/Seungri, R) [1/4]

[maayacolabackup]

*

It starts on a Tuesday morning in September when Seungri wakes up twenty minutes past his alarm, in his own flat, with a headache and a tingling left arm, Jiyong’s head heavy on top of it, his face smooth and peaceful in sleep. Seungri has to pee, but he doesn’t want to wake Jiyong, because rousing Jiyong is a terrible task that Seungri doesn’t wish on anyone, let alone himself.

Seungri turns to really look at Jiyong, his mouth relaxed and slightly turned down at the corners, lips dry and cheeks round, and suddenly, it hurts.

Seungri blinks, and tries to clear the haze of sleep out of his eyes, and when he’s done, Jiyong hasn’t moved. He’s facing Seungri, a few wisps of his hair falling across his forehead, the rest an incomprehensible mess on top of his head, and his eyelashes are dark as soot against his skin. Seungri follows Jiyong’s quiet, barely discernable breaths, and it hurts.

It doesn’t hurt like getting punched in the stomach, or like dancing on a possibly broken ankle. It’s not a physical ache at all. It’s more like dreaming of flying, and then waking up underground, with not even a glimpse of the sky and no idea in which direction you might find it. It hurts like that, the kind of hurt born of despair, and Seungri is left winded at how fast the pain hits him, right in the heart.

Jiyong, he thinks, as he takes his right hand and brushes the bangs away from in front of Jiyong’s eyes, is so beautiful. In sleep, Seungri can’t see the way his eyes light up at a challenge, or the teasing glint they take on when Jiyong is playful, or the myriad of expressions Jiyong can make with just the slightest curve of his lips. Seungri can’t hear the way his voice caresses each carefully chosen word, some of them intended to wound and others intended to heal. But Seungri knows the ins and outs of Jiyong so well by now that he can imagine those things all at once, and it hurts.

And maybe it actually starts when Seungri is sixteen, when Jiyong teaches Seungri, for the first time, how to feel like nothing, and then turns around and teaches him, in the same breath, how to pretend like he’s everything.

Maybe it started back then, and it’s only now, on a Tuesday morning in September, twenty minutes after the alarm and long after he should be getting ready to go to a radio interview, that Seungri notices. Maybe Seungri’s been hurting all along, and the hurt has just been unfurling, stretching out its barbed fingers and leaving tiny punctures in his heart until one day, today, Seungri opens his eyes and realizes he’s bleeding from a thousand tiny little holes and lying in a pool of his own blood.

Maybe it’s been unbearable all along, and Seungri just didn’t realize it; didn’t want to realize it, because his hold on his sanity has been fragile enough, little bits of it slipping through his fingers and leaving him reeling when Jiyong smiles at him and calls him his favorite.

Seungri shifts, and his weighty silver bracelet, the one that Jiyong had given him a while ago, is cold against the skin of his wrist.

“What are you staring at?” Jiyong says, and his lips brush against the skin of Seungri’s bare shoulder, and it tingles, and Seungri suppresses a shiver. “Stop.”

“Yes, hyung,” Seungri whispers back, and Jiyong digs his nails into Seungri’s waist.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jiyong says, and Seungri swallows, his throat dry and parched. “I’m trying to sleep.”

What Seungri and Jiyong have always had is a friendship that is too close and yet not close enough. What Seungri will have is a broken heart.

“Yes, hyung,” Seungri says again, and Seungri, as he peels himself out of his bed, sheets sticking to him like a second skin, has never really felt so hopeless.


*


And yeah, it definitely starts when Lee Seunghyun is sixteen.

Kwon Jiyong’s got a strange face, and he doesn’t look anything like a pop idol, but then he opens his mouth and speaks and Lee Seunghyun knows he’s looking at a star.

It’s hero worship, Seungri knows, but it’s different, because Kwon Jiyong is right here, standing next to Lee Seunghyun, close enough to touch. Kwon Jiyong has a way of looking through people, though, so sometimes, Lee Seunghyun thinks it wouldn’t matter if he was here or there or anywhere, because as far as Kwon Jiyong is concerned, he’s but a wayward branch on a tree, destined to be pruned, cut away and tossed aside on the way toward debut.

Kwon Jiyong might be a teenager, just like Lee Seunghyun, but he talks like an artist, moves like an artist, and thinks like an artist. Just like Lee Seunghyun loves to dance, Kwon Jiyong loves to create. Lee Seunghyun can see the notes tripping over each other in Kwon Jiyong’s eyes; he can see them trying to escape out of his ears, his mouth, his never-still fingers, and maybe Kwon Jiyong just is music, but that’s okay, because Lee Seunghyun loves music, too.

Kwon Jiyong doesn’t like distractions, or people who doesn’t think deserve his consideration, or people he doesn’t think will stay, so Kwon Jiyong doesn’t much like Lee Seunghyun at first.

But Lee Seunghyun is fascinated by Kwon Jiyong; he doesn’t know why, because Kwon Jiyong is scary and unpredictable and simmering below the surface, so intense it’s overwhelming. But something about him makes Lee Seunghyun want to steal all his attention. Want to be worth Kwon Jiyong’s time.

Lee Seunghyun wants to be a branch strong enough to support Kwon Jiyong’s weight. A branch strong enough to climb.

And when he finally earns a smile, warm and surprised and mildly intrigued, Lee Seunghyun feels like he’s won.

Maybe it’s then that Lee Seunghyun becomes Seungri, spelled V-I-C-T-O-R-Y.


*


“Plans for tonight?” Seunghyun asks, looking more asleep than awake.

“Going out with my girlfriend,” Jiyong says, and Seungri blinks. He hadn’t known Jiyong had found a new girlfriend. Not that it matters, he thinks, because it’s not like Seungri is…

“Didn’t know you had a new girlfriend,” Youngbae says, typing into his phone. Seungri bets he’s updating his twitter with a blessing for the beautiful day, or an ambiguous statement about the joy of life. Seungri hopes it’s not a photo of him, because Seungri looks terrible.

Jiyong shrugs nonchalantly, and Seungri tries to will his heart to stop clenching painfully in his chest. Jiyong isn’t his. He’s just Jiyong’s, same as it’s always been, and feeling jealous won’t make things any easier.

Knowing there’s a girlfriend again just feels a little worse now, after this morning’s revelation, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.

“And you, maknae?” Seunghyun asks.

“Why?” Seungri jokes. “Need an introduction?”

“I’m bored,” Seunghyun says. “Let’s go out.”

“We’ll see,” Seungri says, and Daesung leans closer. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jiyong slides between them, filling Seungri’s vision with his face.

“Maknae, you look so glum,” Jiyong says, pinching at Seungri’s cheek. Seungri laughs because he’s supposed to, and leans away. “It’s only Tuesday and we’ve got two very long days before we leave for New York.”

It’s half-jibe and half-critique. Get your energy up, Jiyong is telling him, so Seungri throws back his shoulders and grins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seungri says. “I’m perfectly cheerful for our rehearsal!”

“I dunno, maknae,” Seunghyun says, running a hand through his unstyled hair. “You look a little run down. Didn’t you sleep last night?”

The scratching of Jiyong’s pen across paper. Jiyong’s voice, humming an experimental melody. Jiyong’s thumbs tapping a beat on his hipbone. The rising sun.

“Some,” Seungri says, and Seunghyun raises an eyebrow. “Enough.”

“You should watch less porn. Or get a girlfriend.”

“I have twenty girlfriends,” Seungri jokes around the lump in his throat. “It’s just not the same as hot blonde lesbians.”

Youngbae shakes his head. “That’s our maknae,” he says, and Daesung laughs, and Jiyong just watches him with eyes so hot they burn.

“We should rehearse,” Jiyong says, and Daesung nods and gets up, followed closely by Seunghyun. Seungri is the last to stand, rising only when Youngbae offers him a hand.

“You sure you’re okay?” Youngbae asks, and Seungri blinks.

“Yeah,” Seungri says. “Of course I am.”

“I don’t know,” Youngbae says. “You just seem a bit out of it.”

“I’m just tired,” Seungri says, clapping his hand reassuringly on Youngbae’s shoulder. “I probably should sleep more. Listen to my hyungs for once.”

Youngbae looks at him, considering him for a moment. “If you say so.” He tilts his head to the side, and then reaches up and pulls his cap lower. “You just…”

“What?” Seungri averts his eyes, letting them rest on their band mates, who’ve already begun stretching. Jiyong has his hands on Seunghyun’s shoulders, pushing him forward, and Daesung has his wrists and pulls as Jiyong pushes. Seunghyun is making fake sounds of pain that are less convincing between low chuckles, and Jiyong has a devious smile on his face.

Seungri’s heart drops, and maybe looking at Youngbae might have been safer after all.

“You look like you woke up today and the world was upside down.”

“It was,” Seungri says, licking his lips. “I opened my eyes today and nothing was the same as when I’d closed them.” He turns back to Youngbae, who is staring at him curiously. “I’m just kidding.” Seungri smiles hugely at Youngbae. “Don’t worry so much.”

“Lately,” Youngbae says, “I worry more.”

“No one ever needs to worry about me,” Seungri says. “I’m strong. It would take a lot to faze me, considering the size of my ego.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Youngbae pulls off his zipper sweatshirt. “Let’s get over there, maknae, before Jiyong yells at us.”

And yes, Jiyong is looking at them now, because they’ve lingered too long talking, and his eyes feel heavy on the back of Seungri’s neck as he takes a sip of his water. “Yeah, let’s.”

“But seriously,” Youngbae says, as he stands next to Seungri, stretching his hamstrings by reaching his hands in the direction of his toes. “If you ever want to talk…”

“Yeah,” Seungri says. “Thanks.”

Jiyong is staring, but Seungri doesn’t look up, because he’s terrified that his heart is just sitting there in his eyes and he doesn’t want Jiyong to see it. His bracelet feels more like a manacle than a gift.


*


There are other starts.

Other beginnings.

Seungri looks for Jiyong in his room one night, after a late rehearsal. Seungri is fresh from the shower, and his skin is slick with moisture and steam.

Jiyong is still sweaty from rehearsal, and has his hands buried in his hair, with mouth pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Is everything alright, hyung?” Seungri asks, standing carefully in the door. Sometimes it’s okay if Seungri interrupts, but other times it isn’t-- Seungri’s known Jiyong around nine months now, and something he’s learned is that Jiyong is temperamental and unpredictable.

Jiyong can go from childish and playful, shoving napkins in Seungri’s shoulders to make them look stronger in a photo-shoot, and laughing at the way Seunghyun’s hair looks when he takes off his cap, to snapping at anyone who moves one centimeter out of line (and those who don’t, too.) You never know which Jiyong you’ll get, and Seungri’s gotten the latter enough times to be wary.

“He’s basically the Van Gogh of pop music,” Sean had said once, looking at Seungri kindly; sympathetically. “Being so into what you do can make you a little crazy.”

So Seungri tiptoes and hesitates and always knocks softly, opening the door cautiously only if Jiyong doesn’t tell him to go away.

“I can’t write,” Jiyong says. “I can’t write anything.”

“Why not?” Seungri asks, gingerly perching on the edge of Jiyong’s bed, about a foot from where Jiyong lies on his stomach, notebook in front of him. From here, he can see the dark circles under Jiyong’s eyes, and the way he gnaws on his lower lip, eyes staring at a blank piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” Jiyong says. “If I knew, I’d fix it.” He collapses dramatically down, face burrowing in the comforter, hair twisting in every direction thanks to his frustrated hands.

“Right,” Seungri says, and he reaches his hand out, letting it hover for a moment over the back of Jiyong’s neck, before hesitantly resting his palm against the skin.

Jiyong tenses, his spine straightening, but he doesn’t push Seungri’s hand away. Instead, he sort of… moves into it, like he’s inviting Seungri’s touch. Seungri complies with Jiyong’s unspoken command, sliding his hand down Jiyong’s back slowly, the ribbed material of Jiyong’s tank shirt as rough beneath his fingers as Jiyong’s skin is smooth.

When Jiyong doesn’t make a move to stop him, Seungri gets adventurous, letting his hand slip down Jiyong’s sides, feeling Jiyong’s ribs beneath his fingers, counting them silently as Jiyong sighs and relaxes.

“Do you want me to stop?” Seungri asks, because he and Jiyong aren’t this close- they haven’t been, anyway, before now. Even when Jiyong slips an arm across Seungri’s shoulders, Seungri finds a way to wriggle away, because there’s something about Jiyong that makes Seungri feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something that makes Seungri nervous.

And Seungri doesn’t touch Jiyong much, either. Seungri has always thought that for as much as Jiyong likes to touch, Jiyong doesn’t like to be touched, because when he’s being touched, he’s not in control. But Jiyong curls and presses up under his hand like a cat, simultaneously standoffish and demanding, and Seungri swallows around the tightness in his throat, and drags his nails gently down Jiyong’s spine.

“No,” Jiyong says, and his voice is husky, and it makes Seungri shiver at the sound of it. “Don’t.”

So Seungri doesn’t. He explores the planes of Jiyong’s back with fingers that grow more and more sure, and suddenly Jiyong is propped up on his elbows again, scribbling furiously in his notebook as Seungri touches.

“Yes,” Jiyong says, blowing his bangs out of his face, revealing thick eyebrows and a tiny zit at his temple that Seungri hadn’t noticed earlier.

Later, when Seungri’s hand stills, his arm tired, Jiyong doesn’t seem to notice. Seungri pulls his knees up to his chin, wrapping both arms around his legs. He watches Jiyong write, and for some reason Jiyong’s passion, which has always impressed him, seems captivating, like there can be nothing more amazing than Jiyong as he creates. What he’s scribbling in his notebook right now could be a future single, Seungri realizes, or a solo for Daesung, or anything. Maybe it’ll be nothing that gets used, after all, but either way, it’s a little piece of Jiyong’s soul. Everything Jiyong writes is.

“You’re still here,” Jiyong says later, jarring Seungri out of his dozing state, and Seungri looks at the other boy through his lashes.

“Yes,” Seungri says, and his voice is thick with sleep. “Sorry.”

“No,” Jiyong says, and he’s giving Seungri this intense look that Seungri doesn’t understand. It makes his nerves feel on edge, though, because in a way, Jiyong’s gaze is peeling back his flesh to see what is underneath. Seungri shifts, letting his feet fall to the floor, and then stands. “No, it was…” Jiyong studies him, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Then Jiyong reaches out and takes Seungri’s hand between both his hands, examining it carefully. The scrutiny makes Seungri hold his breath, lower lip caught between his teeth. Jiyong’s hands are so warm and thin and strong.

He has the hands of an artist.

“Why…” Jiyong starts to say, and then he’s looking up at Seungri again, eyes flickering to his once-empty notebook that is now filled with words. “You…”

“Goodnight,” Seungri says, pulling his hand free and retreating to the door. “See you in the morning, hyung.”

“Yes,” Jiyong says, and even when Seungri’s closed the door and climbed into his own bed, hiding under the covers and hoping they muffle the sound of his heartbeat, he can still feel the way Jiyong’s hands had cradled his own.


*


The way Seungri feels about Jiyong is something he’s never been able to sum up in words.

Seungri writes songs, but he is not Jiyong, who teases words into perfect positions to do his bidding, spilling out stories that ensnare and enrapture.

Seungri is good with punch-lines not processes, and so when he tries to put together an exhaustive list of all the moments that have added up into this irrepressible feeling of being completely and totally in love, and make that into something he can explain, he has no idea what to say, not even to himself.

There is only the way that he knows, instinctively, when Jiyong is in the room. The way the air seems to seethe with vitality and crackling emotion and all these things that make it hard for Seungri to think. Make it hard for Seungri to do anything.

There’s the way that he lets Jiyong break him into pieces, over and over again, even when it hurts so much he doesn’t want to open his eyes.

Seungri, when he’d first seen Jiyong, when he first came into contact with the charisma that is G-Dragon, knew he was in trouble by the way he wanted to move closer, a moth to a flame.

Jiyong knows the power he has over Seungri, and maybe that’s the worst part. He knows, just as much as Seungri knows. They both know, and Jiyong presses closer anyway, taking from Seungri. Seungri can’t stop giving, either, because he’s addicted to Jiyong just as much as Jiyong is addicted to him.

And maybe, if Seungri had to describe the way Jiyong makes him feel, he’d say it’s like Jiyong, in his intensity, is burning Seungri alive.


*


“You’re avoiding me,” Jiyong says, and Seungri winces, running a hand through his too-short hair, and turning slowly to look at Jiyong, who is squatting next to him in the foyer of the rehearsal room, pink hat pulled low over sweaty hair. The hat’s embroidered eyes are staring at him just as steadily as Jiyong’s.

“No, I’m not,” Seungri says, and he continues lacing up his shoes. “I’m going home to sleep. Didn’t you complain today that my moves were too slow and sloppy?”

“We don’t live together anymore,” Jiyong says, and it’s a half-truth, because Jiyong’s got six pairs of jeans in Seungri’s closet and wears Seungri’s hats when he can’t decide what to do with his hair in the morning, because he’s woken up too late in Seungri’s bed, their bodies stuck together with sweat and heat.

“That’s because you moved out of our dorm,” Seungri says lightly, like it hadn’t been terrible at the time.

”I need my own space,” Jiyong says. “Because I can’t breathe anymore. Something about you is crushing me. Something about me is crushing you.”

“You know why I moved out,” Jiyong says, and he doesn’t reach out and slide his hand down Seungri’s neck, like he does when they’re alone, because Seunghyun is watching them like a hawk, and they’re getting too old for that not to raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Seungri says. “I do.”

He doesn’t.

What Seungri does know is that he wants to go home and crawl under his heaviest winter quilt and hide there in the darkness, and pretend like his sheets don’t smell like Jiyong.

Seungri swallows his feelings and grins at Jiyong. “I just don’t feel like going out to dinner. I just kind of… want to be by myself.”

“No you don’t,” Jiyong says. “You’re avoiding me. You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

Seungri cuts his eyes past Jiyong, to see if anyone can hear. No one is paying them much attention. Youngbae darts the occasional worried glance in their direction, but he and Daesung and Seunghyun are still reviewing a section of the choreography. Seunghyun always forgets the old songs. Normally it’s Seungri’s job, but Seungri is tired. He just wants to go home and sleep. He wants to stop looking at Jiyong.

“You’re imagining things, hyung,” Seungri says. “After all, how can I avoid you when we’re all together at least ten hours a day?” Jiyong and Seungri are together far more than that.

Jiyong scoots closer, so that he and Seungri are pressed together, side to side. Seungri can feel Jiyong’s quickened heartbeat, probably from rehearsal. Jiyong leans so that his head rests on Seungri’s shoulder. “I adore you, maknae,” Jiyong says sweetly.

Jiyong is focusing in on him, which always weakens Seungri’s guard. Jiyong knows that, and pushes his advantage with a hand on Seungri’s thigh. Seungri closes his eyes, and that feeling, the one that found him defenseless yesterday as he watched the play of early morning light on Jiyong’s skin, finds him again. It’s just as unsettling as it was then, and Seungri is sick with it.

“Me too, hyung,” Seungri says. “You know I like you best.”

“Good,” Jiyong says. “Come out with us?” Seungri ties a bow in his shoelaces with shaky hands. He’s so tired, but he’s not going to say no. There’s a glimmer of triumph in Jiyong’s eyes, because he knows Seungri won’t, can’t, say no.

“I thought you were going home?” Daesung asks, as they make their way out of the rehearsal room, all together save for Seunghyun, who’d left with a smirk and an “I’ve got more important things to do,” as Youngbae teased that he’d “get a gold medal someday.”

“Ah, hyung convinced me it would be more fun if we all went out together,” Seungri says, and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he laughs. It’s not a very good laugh, but it will do. “So I’ll sleep afterwards.”

“Ah, you really are too easy for Jiyong,” Youngbae says. “If he told you to walk off a cliff, would you do it?”

Yes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Seungri says, and Jiyong laughs and jumps up on Seungri’s back. Seungri’s hands quickly go to catch the underside of Jiyong’s thighs so he can more easily bear his weight.

“It’s because maknae loves me,” Jiyong says, and Daesung shakes his head chidingly. Youngbae slides Seungri another worried glance, but then he smiles. “Should we eat grilled meat?”

“Yeah!” Daesung pumps his fist in the air. “One day we’re going to get TOP-hyung to come with us.”

“One day,” Seungri agrees. “Hey, should I call up some friends to meet us?”

“No, no,” Jiyong says. “Just us is fine.” Seungri can feel Jiyong’s lips brush his ear.

“Okay,” Seungri says, and he thinks he manages to keep his voice from shaking.

“As long as Seungri comes, it’s fine,” Jiyong whispers, and Seungri can never say no.


*


Jiyong can’t help but play games.

Every word is a test, and every action carefully calculated to bring people closer and trap them there, like Jiyong is a black widow spider and everyone he meets is sustenance for his creativity.

Seungri can’t help but fall for Jiyong’s ploys, tugged into Jiyong’s games. Jiyong is so good at them that it feels like he’s the only player.

Jiyong’s hand around his bicep is too tight, and Jiyong’s mouth, set in a straight line, is too damning, but Seungri can’t seem to pull away long enough to find air.

The problem is, he’s not sure he wants to.

Seungri knows Jiyong might break him beyond repair. Maybe he already has, and Seungri is just dragging his pieces along behind him, trying not to misplace any of them.

In the end, it’s a risk he’s willing to take.

Seungri wants to be a branch that won’t break off. Seungri wants to survive the winter, and bloom come spring.


*


Another start.

Jiyong comes into Seungri’s room late in the night. Seungri is awake, because he’s been nervously reviewing choreography in his head, and he can’t seem to make his brain shut off. He’s confused for a moment, until he feels Jiyong slide under his covers and curl up around him.

“Hyung?” he mumbles, confused, but Jiyong just sighs, and Seungri can feel the exhalation on his shoulder. Jiyong slides an arm around Seungri’s waist and pulls him closer.

“Just go to sleep,” Jiyong says, and there’s nothing sweet in his voice; just a gruff command that somehow works, and Seungri can feel himself drifting off as Jiyong’s hands rub patterns into his stomach. Jiyong’s arm is warm against the bare skin of Seungri’s torso, and the way he breathes, deeply and loudly, is almost hypnotic. Seungri doesn’t feel homesick for Gwangju right now, when everything is Jiyong.

Seungri wants to ask Jiyong what he’s doing, and why he’s here in Seungri’s bed, but he’s tumbling down into somnolence, and it’s not like he would ever tell Jiyong to leave, so it doesn’t really seem to matter.

“Why you?” Jiyong says quietly, and the bewilderment in Jiyong’s voice is the last thing he recognizes as he falls to sleep.

When he wakes up, Jiyong is still sitting next to him, surrounded by torn-out pages of his notebook and a feverish gleam in his eyes. “What?”

“You make me want to write,” Jiyong says, and Seungri’s stomach churns. “Able to write.”

“I do?” Seungri asks, and he sounds like a child, but Jiyong looks up at him and gives Seungri a strong, clear smile, despite the red lines like a spider’s web in the whites of his eyes. “You should have slept.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jiyong says. “But right now I’m so alive.”

He’s thrumming with some kind of frenetic energy. His thigh is pressed against Seungri’s and Seungri can feel the heat of Jiyong down to his bones, and he thinks that there are worse things than being Kwon Jiyong’s inspiration, because Seungri hasn’t slept this well in months.


*


“Most importantly, I get my inspiration from people. There are people who spark creativity within me. As long as these people are around me, it’s like my thoughts are stimulated. I love getting my inspiration like that. It’s fascinating.” -- G-Dragon, Space Shower TV, March, 2012


*


It’s Daesung’s number that pops up on Seungri’s phone as he’s getting out of the shower.

Go to sleep!! the text says, and Seungri smiles even as he sets the phone back on the sink-counter so he can dry himself off. Daesung and Youngbae both have such nurturing personalities that Seungri is used to getting messages like that; he appreciates them, and the thought behind them.

He texts Daesung back quickly (Going to bed right now!) before he wraps the towel around his waist and steps out of the steamy room.

The hall is cool against his wet skin, and Seungri shivers and hustles in a hurry to his room, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor in his wake.

Jiyong is sitting on his bed. He’s wearing an oversized sweater that bares his collarbone, and Seungri can see the edge of his Dragonball tattoo peaking out.

”Eight stars?” Seungri asked, running his fingertip along the outer edge of the tattoo. “I thought there were only seven Dragonballs.”

“Some things in life are unattainable,” Jiyong had said, and Seungri had looked up from the tattoo and into Jiyong’s eyes.

“Like you?” Seungri had asked, and Jiyong hadn’t answered.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Seungri says, and Jiyong’s not looking at Seungri’s face. Seungri flushes as Jiyong’s eyes track a droplet of water down his chest to where it disappears beneath his towel. It shouldn’t be embarrassing. It shouldn’t make Seungri feel empty.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Jiyong says, like that hasn’t been the only thing their managers have wanted to talk about for the past two weeks. Seungri knew even earlier, because Seungri is like that. He just has to know, otherwise things get mixed up in his head.

“Whose nickname is ‘little manager’?” Seungri jokes, as he turns to his dresser, searching for a clean pair of underwear. “It’s not yours.”

“I have a different job,” Jiyong says, suddenly behind Seungri, sweater sticking to Seungri’s wet back. “I’m ‘leader’.”

“I know,” Seungri says, moving forward to create space between them, swallowing and licking his lips. He grabs a pair of briefs and Jiyong laughs.

“You can’t avoid me, maknae. I won’t let you,” Jiyong says, and Seungri knows that, too.

“Shouldn’t you spend your last night with your girlfriend?” Seungri asks, as Jiyong skims his fingers along Seungri’s waist. Jiyong seems to hear the bitter edge to Seungri’s voice that he tries to rein in, and his eyes glimmer with curiosity, before it’s overshadowed with something a little more familiar.

“She doesn’t inspire me,” Jiyong says, and Seungri spins in Jiyong’s grasp. “I need…” Jiyong’s got a melody in his fingertips, and he’s tapping it out along Seungri’s skin. Jiyong is alive with song.

Seungri never says no.


*


Other starts are less monumental.

Seungri has gotten used to Jiyong appearing in his bed in the middle of the night. It’s different from the daytime, where Jiyong has taken to climbing all over Seungri, petting him and adoring him, in front of everyone and when they’re alone, too. It’s so different, because when Jiyong comes to him like this, it’s because he’s stuck, and the way he touches Seungri, sliding a smooth palm up Seungri’s leg or demanding huffily that Seungri rub his shoulders as he writes… it’s not as calculated as everything else Jiyong does. It’s just Jiyong in the raw, searching for words and coming to Seungri to find them.

Seungri lets him touch. Seungri likes that Jiyong, in some capacity, needs him. Seungri likes being a part of Jiyong’s music, because Jiyong doesn’t care about anything in this world more than he cares about music, the pages of his notebook becoming blood, sweat and pure emotion as Jiyong covers them in his secrets.

Seungri knows he’s not Jiyong’s only muse. Jiyong falls heavy and hard into love, tumbling head over heels for girls he meets once or twice and sweeping them off their feet. Seungri knows the signs; the flush of excitement, and the way Jiyong will change his clothes two or three times to find the right ones. It’s like clockwork, Seungri thinks, because Jiyong loves to be in love. But then the chime sounds midnight, and the carriage reverts to a pumpkin, and Jiyong falls out of love as quickly as he falls in, and then he writes.

But there are the times between heartbreak and new romance. There are those moments, and Jiyong comes up empty, and that’s when he slides slick and cool into Seungri’s shadow, pushing closer and closer until he’s crawling under Seungri’s skin, and Seungri grows accustomed to it far too easily. It’s okay, because Seungri doesn’t expect anything from Jiyong. He might be the only person Jiyong knows that doesn’t, and maybe that’s why Jiyong keeps coming back.

Seungri is Jiyong’s only constant muse, it seems, but Jiyong doesn’t treat Seungri like he treats his girlfriends. Jiyong shows Seungri all of his rough edges, every single one of them dangerous and sharp; the ones he hides when he’s in the throes of infatuation.

Seungri thinks it’s because Jiyong has never been infatuated with Seungri.

It’s Seungri who has always been infatuated with Kwon Jiyong.

It’s always been Seungri who has waited, and wanted Jiyong to see him. There had been something in the way Jiyong had looked at him, at first, that had made Seungri feel like nothing. Like he could see straight through Seungri’s clumsy and hastily built defenses, and what he found there behind all the bravado and wide smiles didn’t impress him at all. It had made Seungri feel naked, and he hated it. It also lit a fire, because he wanted; still wants, if he’s honest with himself, for Jiyong to look inside of him and see something worth keeping. He wants Jiyong’s piercing gaze to linger on him a bit longer, to go a little soft like it does when he looks at Daesung. Like when he used to look at Hyunseung.

Now, Seungri thinks, whatever this is between them, this thing he doesn’t understand that keeps bringing Jiyong back to him, it has made Jiyong look at him, and so Seungri accepts it, because… He likes the way Jiyong’s slender hands wander across the skin of his arm, or the way Jiyong gets too close, invading his personal space and making Seungri oscillate between uncomfortable and pleased. He likes it, because Jiyong sees him.

Seungri doesn’t know why, but it’s something that he strangely cherishes.


*


”I get my inspiration by encountering love… I don’t know a lot about love, but I’m learning all the time.”- G-dragon


*


Jiyong breathes music.

Sometimes, Seungri wonders what it must be like, in Jiyong’s head, where verses and melodies comingle with raw emotion. Sometimes he wonders, if he were to dive inside of Jiyong’s thoughts, what treasures he would find; what pearls of poetry lurk beneath those raging waters.

Sometimes, though, when Jiyong looks up at Seungri, eyes flashing and fingers tapping to a mindless beat, mind anywhere but here, in the present, Seungri knows he’d drown in there, screaming and clawing for the surface as the black waters pulled him down.


*


“You’re a genius,” Seungri says, and Jiyong laughs, loudly.

“No, I’m insane,” Jiyong corrects. “Absolutely and completely insane.”

“A lot of geniuses are misunderstood,” Seungri says. “People make assumptions about what’s normal and what’s not, and that’s why they try to attach labels like insane to-“

“No, maknae,” Jiyong says, and he nuzzles his nose into Seungri’s cheek. “I’m actually crazy.” His little huffs of breath tickle Seungri’s ear. “No one will ever understand me.”

“I’ll do my best to not misunderstand you, at least,” Seungri says, and he starts to try.


*


“Are you excited to head back to New York?” Youngbae asks, eyes like half-moons as he smiles at Seungri. “Concerts! More concerts!” He adjusts his cap, Fantastic Baby disappearing as he pulls the brim lower.

Seungri leans forward in his airplane seat, safety-belt digging into his belly as he tries to get closer to Youngbae, who sits diagonally in front of him, next to his manager.

“Only if it’s not as cold as last time,” Seungri says, and Jiyong shifts beside him. “I thought my balls were going to freeze off.”

“Sure they didn’t?” Seunghyun asks, peeking his head around from the row in front of Seungri to look at teasingly at him. “You’ve been hitting some really high notes, lately, and I was just wondering-“

Youngbae laughs into his palm, and Seunghyun, satisfied, disappears back into his seat again, and Seungri scowls. “You know I’ve been working on it,” he mumbles, and Youngbae smiles at him soothingly.

“I know I’m excited,” Youngbae says. “I love New York. So many interesting looking people. Such a cool vibe.”

Youngbae sort of dances in his seat as he talks, the way he always does. Seungri almost admires Youngbae’s energy- it seems boundless, at times. The opposite of the man next to him, curled up in weary slumber. Seungri leans back and Jiyong falls into him.

Jiyong just looks tired. He’d stayed up writing lyrics, after… Seungri had opened his eyes with the rising of the sun, and Jiyong had never closed his. “Yeah, it’s really cool,” Seungri says, and wonders if he sounds as unenthusiastic as he feels. He must, because Youngbae’s eyebrows climb his forehead, disappearing beneath his ball-cap.

“You don’t like New York?”

“I like New York just fine,” Seungri says, and shifts so that Jiyong’s head can rest more easily on his shoulder. “I’m just…”

“You’ve been strange, this week.” It’s not the first time he’s mentioned it, but he seems more sure this time.

“Yeah,” Seungri admits. “I’ve… had an epiphany.” Jiyong fits against him with the ease of knowing every line of Seungri’s body. “I’m just exhausted.”

“Physically or emotionally?” Youngbae queries, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

Jiyong smells like flowers, today. It’s Seungri’s shampoo. Jiyong had sent a text to his girlfriend as Seungri had brushed his teeth, and Seungri had let the water run to cover the sound of Jiyong laughing at her reply. He’d felt better when his mouth tasted of mint instead of heartache. Cleaner. Less pathetic.

Seungri hates himself. Just a little.

“Emotionally,” Seungri admits, and he doesn’t look at Jiyong, whom he knows is awake. He keeps his eyes firmly in the direction of nothing instead, letting the grey and blue of the airplane seat in front of him fill his vision with neutral color as he lets his eyes lose focus.

Seungri feels like his insides are all one big open wound, because Seungri is not like Jiyong. Seungri doesn’t fall in love every day. Seungri’s never been in love at all, before. If it feels like this, hopeless and terrible like it’s tearing a chasm through his chest that everyone can see, he’s not sure he ever wants to do it again.

“We’ll go out dancing,” Youngbae says, and Seungri smiles at him, forcing his mouth into the well-practiced shape. “Meet American girls at a club, or something. Cheer you up.”

“I don’t speak English.” Seungri keeps smiling anyway, weakly, and it’s enough for Youngbae.

“I do,” Youngbae says, and sits back, satisfied, in his seat. “Try and get some sleep with Leader.”

Leader is the reason Seungri can’t sleep. Seungri does close his eyes, though, and behind his eyelids, he imagines his punctured heart, with its thousands of holes, bleeding out more and more with every beat.

Jiyong slips his fingers between Seungri’s, like he always does, and Seungri wants to cry, because he’s so in love that he’s lost in it.


*


Seungri remembers when his confidence was real, and not a mask he put on to cover up how much he’s been broken down. He can remember being fifteen and on top of the world. His dance group had over 3000 fans in their fan café, and he performed on a regular basis in front of people easily impressed with the things he could do to his body, just moving to the rhythm of music that made him want to express it all. Seungri’d thought that was the big-time.

He had been so proud, and so sure. Seungri had stood at the foot of a mountain and had eyes only for the summit.

YG Entertainment is simultaneously one of the best things and one of the worst things to ever happen to Lee Seunghyun. One of the best, because Yang Hyun Suk had created Seungri; he had built an idol from a boy who loved to dance for the sake of dancing. He’d made a man who entertained millions with a brash laugh and dark under-eye circles that charmed those just waiting to be charmed. One of the worst because Seungri, as strong as he is outside, feels so weak inside sometimes that he worries his mask will crack, and reveal just how ruined he’s become.

Seungri often thinks he’s too young to be this jaded, but then he realizes he’s too old to pretend, when he’s alone with his insecurities and his thoughts and the remaining bits of his dreams, that he’s not.

Jiyong says, sometimes, that Youngbae is like a tree; strong and rooted down into the earth, certain in who he is and what he wants to be to others.

Seungri is more like a wayward branch, waiting for a windstorm to knock him loose from a tree that might never have needed him in the first place.


*


“During my path and dream of becoming a singer, I was tormented by extreme inferiority. The chance might roll away if my talent wasn’t on par. I felt uneasy all the time. When I wanted to give up half way, I reminded myself to be strong. Besides telling myself to stay strong, there was nothing more I could do.”- Seungri


*


It’s flattering, when Jiyong pays attention. When Jiyong wants to spend time with him, laugh with him, drag him around by their linked hands.

Always together.

Nyongtori.

Cute.

It’s flattering, and it’s the side Seungri finds the most dangerous, because he buys into that calculated affection like it’s real, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

No one knows what Jiyong really feels, except when he sings. And the things he sings about are terrifying and deep; things Seungri’s never considered or thought about before.

So Seungri should stop thinking that Jiyong likes him, because he has no idea if Jiyong does or not. And Seungri’s only eighteen and Jiyong’s only twenty, but it feels like years and years between them because Seungri can never seem to catch up. Jiyong keeps holding out his hand though, and Seungri keeps taking it, and it hurts more and more each time Jiyong lets go.


*


New York is much different than how they left it. This time, the trees still have leaves; gold and brown and yellow and red, which Seungri knows are the universal symbol for the full onset of fall. The air is brisk and cool, but not cold, and Seungri doesn’t feel ill-prepared for the weather in his leather jacket.

Jiyong looks cold though, in his pants with cropped ankles that he’ll insist on wearing up until December. He looks paler than usual, Seungri notes, before he forces himself to stop paying so much attention.

“Ah, my back!” Seungri says, stretching his hands above his head in a giant, bear-like stretch, like he’s just emerged from hibernation. “Long plane ride.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Seunghyun says, pushing his sunglasses up to cover his no-doubt bloodshot eyes. Seungri, in between naps and peeks at his magazines, had noticed Seunghyun pouring over a script. Seungri had heard, from the other managers, that TOP had been cast in a new drama. Seungri doesn’t know when he’ll have time to film it, but Seunghyun seems to be preparing for it now. By January, Seungri thinks, the tour will be over, and they’ll have a little space. Who knows how long it will last, but they’ll have a little space.

“I was just trying to foster discussion,” Seungri says.

“I want to foster a nap in my hotel room bed,” Seunghyun replies. “And I would possibly like to foster a glass of Bacardi and Coke.”

“I slept well,” Daesung says, and he leans against Seunghyun playfully, nudging with an elbow. “Maybe if you weren’t in serious-business-actor-mode the whole flight, you could have gotten a bit of shut-eye.”

“I’m going to make you cry this time, Daesungie,” Seunghyun says with a teasing grin. “This time when you text me, it’ll be ’oh, hyung, I couldn’t stop sobbing, it was just so touching!’, instead of that nonsense you sent last time.”

“I almost cried, that time,” Daesung says. “My eyes were wet. War movies always get me a little.”

Youngbae laughs. “I cried, hyung. It was very moving.”

“This is why you’re my best dongsaeng,” Seunghyun says, patting Youngbae on the shoulder, and Youngbae smiles gently, and Seungri momentarily considers putting up a fight for the position until Seunghyun winks at him, and Seungri lets it go. Daesung pouts, as much as he can while wearing a smile that stretches from ear to ear, and Jiyong is silent.

“You gonna make it, Jiyong?” Seungri hears Youngbae say, and suddenly, Youngbae is behind him, walking next to Jiyong but not close enough to touch. Jiyong is prickly like that, and Youngbae knows it. They all know it.

“Just not feeling well,” Jiyong says, and Seungri lingers, falling into step with them as Daesung and Seunghyun get further ahead, bickering about something or other, the air punctuated with Daesung’s laughs and Seunghyun’s quiet snickers.

Sometimes, Seungri thinks that their relationship is the sort of relationship he and Jiyong could have had.

Other times, Seungri is well aware that Jiyong is nothing like Seunghyun, and that he isn’t much like Daesung either. Perhaps, Seungri thinks, they were always meant to be this.

Jiyong leans against him, and Seungri can feel the lines of exhaustion in his wiry body. He exchanges a moderately alarmed look with Youngbae, but then Jiyong straightens, and smiles at them thinly. “Don’t worry,” Jiyong says. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Youngbae says, and Seungri swallows his concern, knowing Jiyong will just resent it, like he resents anything that implies he’s not one hundred percent autonomous. “We have a show tomorrow, so I hope you’re not lying.”

“I’ll be okay,” Jiyong says. Seungri nods, and takes it at face value, and steps ahead. Jiyong grabs at Seungri’s backpack. “Walk with me, maknae.”

“Alright,” Seungri says, and Youngbae gives them both a cryptic look and walks ahead.

“Why are you being so weird?”

“I need space,” Seungri says, and Jiyong laughs.

“No you don’t. You get lonely in the shower. That’s why you take your phone in there with you so you can chat with Dara-noona while you wash your hair.”

Seungri flushes. “I don’t need space from her,” Seungri says, and then he turns his head toward the line of taxis. The others are clustered together, and Daesung is still laughing, and Seungri wishes he felt like laughing, too.

“You need space from me?” Jiyong sounds amused, and Seungri watches him out of the corner of his eye as Jiyong twists his rings around his fingers, oversized sunglasses obscuring his eyes from Seungri’s view. “You can’t have it.”

“Because I’m your favorite?” Seungri asks, and Jiyong smiles softly, almost affectionately.

“Because I’m Tom, and you’re Jerry,” Jiyong replies. “I’m going to chase you forever.”

Seungri isn’t sure if he wants to laugh, or if he wants to cry. It’s never been Jiyong chasing Seungri, after all. It’s always been Seungri chasing Jiyong, and Seungri demanding attention from a man who offers attention only when he’s afraid you might leave if he doesn’t and takes it away again when he thinks it’ll hurt the most. Jiyong might be the one playing games, but it’s always been Seungri who’s been trying to catch Jiyong.

“You caught me a long time ago,” Seungri says instead, because it’s also true. Seungri can remember the moment it happened. He’d walked into a rehearsal room at Yang Hyun Suk’s heels and been introduced to Jiyong, and Seungri’s heart had skipped a beat.

“Good,” Jiyong says. “I’ve chased enough muses.” He’s already moving to email his girlfriend on his smart phone, pulling it from his pocket to catch the wifi. Because he’s gone and found someone else to love even though Seungri is right here, aching and wishing and waiting.

Seungri is Jiyong’s only constant muse.

Seungri wants to tell Jiyong. Tell Jiyong that on Tuesday, twenty minutes past his alarm and possibly getting late, Seungri realized that he was in love. That maybe he’d always been in love, but he didn’t know that was the name of it. That the overwhelming need for Jiyong to see him has transformed from hero-worship to admiration to affection to something so consuming that it reaches into Seungri’s body and steals the breath right out of it.

But Seungri won’t say anything, because Jiyong had deliberated over his clothes this morning, and checked his phone a million times, and it wasn’t because of Seungri.

Jiyong’s in love with someone else again, and it isn’t Seungri. It’s never going to be Seungri, probably, and Seungri should bury these feelings as deep as he can because they’ve all got so much to lose.

It’s just difficult, when Jiyong smiles at him, pink gums and white teeth, as he slides his phone back into the pocket of his cropped pants. It’s difficult, in a way that nothing’s ever been difficult before.

Seungri just wants to be a branch strong enough to climb on.

“You don’t have to chase me,” Seungri says. “You already know that.”

“People have left before,” Jiyong says. Jiyong hooks his index finger into the bracelet that he’d had given Seungri, and Jiyong’s finger tickles lightly at Seungri’s wrist when he does. Seungri wishes he could quit Jiyong, who is as addictive as any drug but twice as dangerous, because Seungri is weak. “Maknae is mine.”

For better or for worse, it’s true, so Seungri doesn’t dispute his words.

“You two going to get in the car, or do I have wave a poster of Jiyong around so Seungri gets confused and follows it into the back seat?” Seunghyun asks, mischievously smirking. “You’re both tired enough that I bet it would work.”

“Sure you haven’t had a rum and cola already?” Seungri asks, and the moment is broken.

“We’re coming,” Jiyong says, and the palm he places at the small of Seungri’s back to guide him forward is like a brand.


Part Two

Comments

[aishiteru-amie.livejournal.com]

i see u maia!!
wait. let me indulge myself first. :)

[ciel-dragon.livejournal.com]

I am sure you have already this a million times already but: my god! I love you and your amazingly beautiful, haunting, angst, solemn, and soothing writing style. Seriously, you are one of the best G-Ri writers ever, not to mention an amazing writer in general. I have read your other G-ri fics but I was too shy to leave a comment, so I was like "I am going to leave a comment one day! An author this amazing deserves all the love & praise!"

But seriously, seriously, seriously, I love this story already. I cannot even tell you what I love about it because EVERYTHING is perfect. I just cannot write down anything but stupid nonsense because I am still in awe. Very, very, very well done story & I thank you for writing so beautifully. You are truly gifted <3

/Le off to read other chapters.

[maayacola.livejournal.com]

T___________________T <3 <3 I'm so glad you delurked! And super happy you like this story! I worked really hard on it! I'm not a native speaker, so it takes me a long long time to write, and in fandoms that I join later, I always feel a bit terrified to write in them, because the way we view the people may be totally different and ASLkfghglf;ds'lhjk;gfjdfksds

ANYWAY, so happy you like it, and so happy you told me so! <3

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

You have that being-in-love feeling down so well. *_* It's exactly like that. (I was reading an article today about the urge to fall in love being biologically hardwired as much as the urge to like, eat.)

I started picking out favorite lines and ended up with like 20! But my absolute favorites were:

It’s more like dreaming of flying, and then waking up underground, with not even a glimpse of the sky and no idea in which direction you might find it.

You never know which Jiyong you’ll get

Jiyong knows the power he has over Seungri, and maybe that’s the worst part. He knows, just as much as Seungri knows. They both know, and Jiyong presses closer anyway

It’s like clockwork, Seungri thinks, because Jiyong loves to be in love. But then the chime sounds midnight, and the carriage reverts to a pumpkin, and Jiyong falls out of love as quickly as he falls in, and then he writes.

“No, maknae,” Jiyong says, and he nuzzles his nose into Seungri’s cheek. “I’m actually crazy.”

Seungri remembers when his confidence was real...Seungri, as strong as he is outside, feels so weak inside sometimes that he worries his mask will crack, and reveal just how ruined he’s become.

Jiyong’s in love with someone else again, and it isn’t Seungri. It’s never going to be Seungri, probably, and Seungri should bury these feelings as deep as he can because they’ve all got so much to lose.

Also, Seungri has always thought that for as much as Jiyong likes to touch, Jiyong doesn’t like to be touched, because when he’s being touched, he’s not in control.: is true of TOP as well (actually it's more true of TOP). But also yes to cat!Jiyong.

Anyway, this is a super-compelling chapter, and now I'm off to read the next one... I wonder sometimes whether Jiyong can really be as calculating in all of his interpersonal relationships as he is when he's on television. On the one hand, I think he comes from that kind of background (and has major problems separating himself from other people: I was reading an academic article on sadism today that talks about how it's actually a desire to take one role or another so you can separate yourself from your mother/reassure yourself that you won't destroy the thing you depend on for survival; and I was like hmmm) - both family background and growing-up-on-camera background. On the other hand, surely no one can keep that up all the time??? But maybe when he can't keep it up, he's alone.

I remember the moment when I went from "oh he's just misunderstood" to "wow there really isn't anything solid there at all, just an endless need to be admired by others, to control them, and to force them to never forget him. Madness!"

But then I also think Jiyong is, like, actually a four year old (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loevinger's_stages_of_ego_development#Self-Protective_stage_.28E3.29) and somewhat rueful about it; and that helps me keep a sense of perspective. (On that stages-of-ego-development chart, Taeyang is still rebelling against the "conformist" stage - where Seungri currently is - while TOP is at "impulsive" or baby-level.)

Also really like your characterization of Seungri in this chapter. Wanting to appear to be strong, more than actually being strong, because Jiyong likes strong people... (and in the beginning, being irrationally afraid of what would happen if he failed, more than confident he would succeed).

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

Sorry for the essay. >_> Anyway, I really like this.

[maayacola.livejournal.com]

You know me, I love essays! It actually only takes me so long to reply to them because I'm not a native speaker, so I sit and stress over ever grammatical choice until I've lost my mind!

Quotes! *rolls around*

And yes on TOP... I just... don't get him as well. I really don't. I love him, but I'm not entirely sure what it is I am loving, haha.

Underlining everything about Jiyong, tbqh. And putting exclamation points. I don't think Jiyong is misunderstood at all. I think he's very controlling and egotistical and khgjfdfsdla *______* Not going to lie, this is why I like him, which is probably the same sorts of enabling that let him sort of...entrench himself in those traits.

Tabbing this article to read in a bit.

I'm not sure if you saw the interview (that's recirculating lately) where Seungri said that sometimes, he just can't hold himself together anymore... there's a bit where he talks about being outed for the porn and being really young and being unable to play along, and then getting in trouble for not being able to play along... It was really sad to read. Why are they all so SAD?! Anyway, the point is, I think Seungri is 80 percent bravado and 20 percent confidence.

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

I guess my TOP theory is that he was probably punished a lot as a very small child for not doing things the "right" way, while also being indulged/comforted a lot by his mom, and that it kinda destroyed his ability to believe the things that authority figures tell him, unless they're his mom or he works it out for himself. >_> Because if he listened to what "they" (also including the voices in his head) said, he'd be paralyzed by doubt and insecurity all the time. And this is why he also hates being forced to attempt things outside his comfort zone, because he's had so much negative feedback over the years.... which is not a problem unique to TOP, of course: sometimes I think public schooling is designed to instill a strong fear of failure in everyone who isn't walking a very narrow path. But anyway.

I guess I kind of identify with (this take on) TOP a little bit, even though I'm not nearly so bad as him. >_> But I also have slight problems with object permanence (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Object_permanence) ("out of sight out of mind") and object constancy (http://www.ahalmaas.com/Glossary/o/object_constancy.htm) ("the ego is formed and established as a permanent existence, separate from the environment (mother)" - also has to do with forgetting or changing how you feel about someone when they are away), impulsiveness, etc. It's not, like, serious in my case, because I'm just kind of ADD, meaning my working memory isn't so good. But I think it's really bad in TOP's case... I'm thinking in particular about the part in the Big Bang bio where he talks about feeling reassured if all the milk cartons in the fridge are lined up so he can see the labels. I guess I think he and GD are similar in this way - they don't really believe what other people tell them about the future and they need to control their environment - but in GD's case it's more tied to how people say they are going to act (he thinks they will betray him), whereas TOP has maybe more faith in his close friends, but maybe less faith in the permanence of the physical world, or in the link between effort and reward, or in his own abilities outside a very narrow range, or in the "right" way to do something, etc.

I also think he has some really messed up ideas about relationships - he likes to keep people/girls apart and then break them down - as well as more "normal" issues like depression, mood swings, impulsiveness, being sensitive about his looks and how he's perceived by others, etc etc. I think when TOP joined Big Bang he'd already learned a lot about himself & built up a lot of survival strategies and coping mechanisms, etc, but that GD, because he knows TOP really well, can strip all of that away and reduce him to the insecure 2 year old he really is deep down, when he really wants to. >_> But TOP is really lucky to be in Big Bang, also, because so many "normal" things are difficult for him, and being in the group means other people handle that stuff and he can focus on the things he's good at (being different, making music, getting people to like him, etc).

Anyway, TOP: really an incredibly tortured person.

GD and Seungri in the next comment because this is already really long >_>

[sub-divided.livejournal.com]

I haven't seen that article about Seungri! Sixteen year old Seungri kind of reminds me of a friend of mine, actually - a really smart guy who doesn't know how to act "normally" around other guys, so he substitutes points-scoring and one-upmanship for friendship, and goes back and forth between being really confident and being really insecure. He's really into money/status and he's fascinated by "sociopaths" who can manipulate others, but he himself is not sociopathic at all, honestly he's a mostly good guy who acts without ulterior motives (because he tells you his motives) and likes being liked too much to really wish harm on others.

Sometimes I think all the stuff about Seungri being a player, etc, is either a smokescreen or reaaaaaaaaally overcompensating, because honestly he doesn't seem very straight to me? Or, more than not being straight, when he or the other members of Big Bang talk about how much he loves all women there is something "fake" about it. Definitely he gets along with them, but that's not the same thing... I also sometimes think that because he's the only extrovert in Big Bang, the other members & particularly GD misinterpret normal friendliness as something more calculated. Women like Seungri because he likes them but doesn't want anything from them (apart from their company).

The tragedy of Seungri is that he's finally learned all the rules of the Big Bang game, just at the point when Big Bang is not playing by those rules anymore? It's become much more of a business, and the current focus of the business is trying not to look too dysfunctional on television. Seungri always had a problem keeping family problems at home but his slip ups before were less disturbing because he was less of a broken person... especially coming in without much romantic or friendship experience, it seems likely that Seungri has picked up some really warped ideas of what's normal or "good" that aren't going to serve him well, AT ALL, outside of the group. Like he will be fine in all his casual interactions, but anything deeper is going to repeat those same dysfunctional patterns.

The other tragedy of Seungri is that whenever he can't take it anymore, and lets something out on TV that messes up whatever image the group is trying to project, he gets punished for not being more in control of himself, but the situation also improves for the majority of Big Bang. >_> Because if Seungri was under strain, usually it means everyone was under strain, and it's just that he was the one who "decided" to crack first. There's a certain kind of power that comes from being the weak link in the chain - you have to pay attention to him because he has the power to mess everything up - but it's double-edged because he not only draws all the fire, he also has to work harder to gain back "professional" points.

Also, he and GD are an on-off thing. >_> I think the confidence is real when GDragon falls back in love with him and bravado when they are quarreling. Not just because of GDragon, but because everyone around GDragon follows GD's lead, so when it's Seungri-is-amazing time, everyone loves him, and when it's Seungri-is-annoying time, no one does.

Which is another way of saying I agree with you. :p And also about this: Not going to lie, this is why I like him, which is probably the same sorts of enabling that let him sort of...entrench himself in those traits. 100% AGREE, also I think Taeyang is pretty crucial here, like there's no way GD would have survived this long with such an extreme personality without Taeyang being so supportive of it. It's like they met each other, and put "experiencing setbacks, growing and developing according to other people's expectations" on hold for 10 years (and are only getting around to it now).