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1.
“I’m sleeping,” Jiyong grunts sleepily. “Stop fidgeting.”
“My phone is ringing,” Seungri slaps his arm lightly but Jiyong doesn’t budge. “Hyung, let go.”
“Shut up,” Jiyong mumbles and forces his eyes open. Slipping off the bed, stark naked digging in Seungri’s pants’ pocket he picks up from the floor. “There.”
The device bounces twice on the bed. Seungri rolls his eyes and reads the blaring notification on its screen.
“It’s nothing,” he announces shortly, placing his phone on the nightstand.
“Good,” Jiyong goes straight to occupy his previous position on the bed. “Stop having friends.”
“You’re just jealous,” Seungri mocks without malice. He lets himself being spooned once again. Jiyong bites his shoulder as a scold.
“You’re too busy,” Jiyong eyes his artwork of bruises from last night.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been ignoring me for several hours now.”
“We were sleeping, darling.”
“What if I wasn’t?”
“For God’s sake, hyung.”
“Okay, okay,” Jiyong sighs. “I miss you, you know. Don’t get too busy.”
“Not for you,” Seungri teases him lightly and Jiyong bites him again on the same spot. “You’re keeping me busy.”
“I’m trying,” Jiyong smiles. His hand slides from Seungri’s waist to Seungri’s hips, dancing lower until he finds a purchase of Seungri’s cock. He grins when it’s pulsing hot in his hold.
“Try harder,” Seungri gasps in his embrace, he is shaking with need.
“My hardest, sweetheart,” Jiyong promises him, a sap in love. “My hardest.”
2.
“So this is how it feels,” Jiyong forces himself to talk, pushing through the rocks in his throat. “I love you.”
Seungri smacks his thigh. “Really? Now?”
“It’s now or never, Seungri.”
“Sure, Romeo,” Seungri yawns, trying to blink out the fatigue from his body. “Mind if I sleep?”
“You can’t join me in my death bed.”
“Idiot,” Seungri mutters, already slipping under the blanket.
“Hey!”
“Don’t shout, didn’t you hear what the doctor said?”
“That you should not come closer than five meters from me.”
“About the not shouting part.”
“Oh, right.”
“Damn right,” Seungri shifts closer until he can press his nose on Jiyong’s shoulder. “Rest.”
“In peace.”
“Stop that, hyung.”
“I just woke up.”
“Then just lie down, whatever, I’m sleeping.”
“What if I die when you’re sleeping?”
“For the last fucking time, it’s cold, hyung, not cancer.”
“I can barely speak,” Jiyong whines but he’s already turning to his side to wrap his arm around Seungri’s waist. “And it’s hot everywhere.”
“You speak too much, darling.”
“Sweet, aren’t you?”
“Sleepy,” Seungri pleads guiltily as he yawns louder. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Jiyong presses his nose to Seungri’s hair, trying to tuck his scent through his stuffy nose.
“Don’t die.”
Jiyong chuckles. “Try me.”
“Hyung.”
“Won’t,” Jiyong kisses his forehead. He watches Seungri slipping into slumber, willing and mellow. “I won’t.”
3.
“You’re wearing my pants,” Jiyong informs him while sipping his coffee.
“Good morning to you too,” Seungri kisses his cheek and pours himself a glass of water. His voice is still catching up with normal. “Couldn’t find mine.”
“No, you’re wearing it last night too.”
“And you’re the one who took it off.”
Jiyong rolls his eyes but fails to subdue his smile. “Fuck you.”
“You did,” Seungri chirps shamelessly. “Twice.”
“My God, Seungri.”
“Whoa, that’s blasphemy, hyung.”
“It’s not funny and you’re still wearing my pants. I gave you permission to stay, nobody christened you to be a thief. My sweet winter child, don’t be naughty, will you?”
“It looks good on me,” Seungri shrugs.
“That’s not –”
“–or off of me.”
Jiyong throws a spoon at him. “Don’t steal from my wardrobe.”
“You’re welcome to take it off,” Seungri winks and runs before Jiyong throws him a fork.
4.
“We are not buying that,” Seungri stares wide–eyedly at the offending lollipop.
Jiyong shrugs and adds another one into their cart. “I’m paying.”
“No,” Seungri snatches the pinky sweets and puts them back in the shelf. “We are doing grocery shopping for dinner.”
“That’s my dessert, sweetheart.”
“I’m your dessert, darling,” Seungri throws his ten thousand volts trademark smile.
“Maybe not tonight,” Jiyong rises to the challenge and smirks when Seungri’s confident face crumbles.
“Yeah? I heard it’s really cold to sleep on the floor these days. Good luck, grandpa,” the younger hisses and rolls the cart away before Jiyong can put anymore stupid kind of food in it.
Jiyong follows him while laughing. “I’ll let you borrow a blanket, baby.”
“Who says I’ll be the one being kicked out?”
“That’s literally my house,” Jiyong raises his eyebrow, his favorite victory pose.
At that, Seungri gasps loudly. His expression shifts from unbelieving, confusion, and finally settles into annoyed.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” Jiyong mimics him. “Fine.”
“I’m moving out tonight,” Seungri walks faster, as fast as he can with their cart full of meat, vegetables, sauces, bottles of energy drink, and a new set of pan Jiyong insisted on buying.
“Didn’t realize you moved in.”
“Fuck you,” Seungri spits his anger while maintaining a neutral face as he hands the cashier their groceries one by one.
“Maybe later,” Jiyong pinches his cheek. “It’s fun.”
“What?” Seungri glares at him. “Kicking me out of the house?”
Jiyong fishes out his credit card. “You were going to kick me out of the bed.”
“You wanted to buy all the unhealthy stuff.”
“Just one,” Jiyong hands the cashier the super pink and intimidating size of a lollipop. “Promise.”
“Just kick me out of the house already,” Seungri gives up.
“I’m thinking about something else,” Jiyong hums, a little low. He takes one bag and leaves the lighter one for Seungri to carry.
“About not arguing over sweets the next time?” Seungri’s mouth is a thin line by now.
“About asking you to move in with me,” Jiyong shrugs. “Properly.”
Seungri nearly drops the plastic bag. “What?”
Jiyong flashes him a mischievous smile. “Well?”
It takes a while but then Seungri recovers, clearing his throat. “Kwon Jiyong. I swear to God, if you do anything while we’re out in public like this –”
“Like what?” Jiyong cuts him in, placing the bag he’s carrying carefully on the floor. People are passing them unaware, like river.
“I’m not telling you,” Seungri avoids his gaze, trying to breath, his face is as red as tomato. “Let’s just go home, okay?”
“You should, or else we might fight over stupid things again.”
“Like –,” Seungri prays for his voice to return. It feels like it’s stuck on the roof of his mouth. “ –you know…like those movies and books and –Oh God.”
Too late, Jiyong is already kneeling on one knee with a bright smile on his face.
5.
Seungri throws his blue marker away without dignity. “I’m stupid.”
“Shut up,” Jiyong pats his head absentmindedly, not even looking at him.
“This is stupid.”
“Shh, you’re breaking my concentration.”
“As if anything ever?” Seungri throws him a side glance but nobody is around to pay attention to his annoyance.
“You did many times,” Jiyong assures him. “Don’t doubt yourself like that.”
Seungri rolls his eyes. “One more word and I’m throwing this at your head.”
“I love you.”
“That’s cheating.”
“That’s sweet,” Jiyong laughs. “Don’t doubt me like that.”
“I didn’t,” Seungri pouts. “Look, I can’t do this.”
“You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”
“You’re not even looking at it, asshole.”
“That’s a new honorific for your elder?”
“I’m throwing this shoe without a countdown.”
“Romantic,” Jiyong puts down his black marker–finally–and judges Seungri’s creation. “Not bad.”
“Certainly not good either,” Seungri mumbles.
“Definitely not.”
“Can’t we just be like a normal couple? Wearing couple shoes that we buy from the store? Or ask someone else to make them for us?”
“We are a couple?”
Seungri smacks Jiyong’s thigh for real.
“I prefer making them myself,” Jiyong lets himself being hit one more time before laughing openly. “It’s the sentiment, sweetheart.”
“You’re good at it, hyung.”
“Yeah, I’m good at drawing on shoes,” Jiyong shoves his creation to Seungri’s hands. “You’re welcome.”
“How about you?” Seungri sighs. “I can’t draw to save my life, let alone decorating shoes for you.”
Jiyong smiles at him, soft and aglow. It steals Seungri’s breath away in the most polite way possible. He feels it leaving his lung with a slow drag. Sweet.
“As if I’d ever let you design anything for me,” Jiyong says quickly then runs. He receives a smack of shoe on his butt a minute later.
+1.
Jiyong hates morning. Today, he wakes up in stages, with a blink, with a subtle move, with the world rotates a little slower. Time doesn’t tick away for a while and things are blurred, night and day are having conversation, neither wants to leave. His head, for once, doesn’t spin so much. And his throat isn’t dry, his chest is not full of greed. He turns his head to the empty spot by his side, his sheet has nothing to remind him of Seungri.
He closes his eyes and counts his breaths, the world is still slowing down. His heart doesn’t skip a beat, neither it’s hammering in its cage. It’s soft and quiet and calm and hurt. It’s the worst way to wake up, Jiyong acknowledges. To have the realization that he’s alone drowned him inch by inch instead of sweeping him off of his feet.
It’s the worst way to start a life, Jiyong writes, to be able to see every bread crumb that leads you to yesterday.
Jiyong hates mourning. Today has 24 hours just like it’s promised and he’s only been living a quarter of it so far. Well, sleeping through it, actually. He has eighteen more to breathe, to eat, to drink, to talk, to sing, to live and he doesn’t really want to. Of all things he doesn’t have, it’s the hangover he regrets the most. Why can’t he, too drunk to think properly, too wobbly to walk? Or too high to be stubborn, at least.
He checks his phone. There’s nothing to notify him about yet everything to worry about. What ifs. He groans to himself, demanding.
“Call me,” he shouts to the universe but it’s not listening. Maybe it’s having its worst today too. “Fuck you.”
Fucked up, Seungri would remind him. Seungri should remind him because he’s going crazy. Because he is now passed arguing over his career and schedules and health and any other stuff that is not as important as Seungri.
“Come back,” he whispers. Perhaps the universe is a little sensitive and wishing for a gentle prayer.
You and your little ass, Jiyong hears Seungri talking in his head but nobody is calling him yet. He is drifting away to another regretful sleep when he catches another sentence, How about you come and get me instead?
Jiyong hates tripping over his TV remote and falling. Jiyong hates that’s he’s already out of his house when he remembers about his car key. Jiyong hates to forget about wearing his coat too, still he drags his dramatic little ass to apologize to Seungri.