Work Text:
Loving you had consequences
Part 1: Jaehyung
Dirty tissues, trust issues
Glasses on the sink, they didn't fix you
Lonely pillows in a stranger's bed
Little voices in my head
Secret keeping, stop the bleeding
Lost a little weight because I wasn't eating
All the souls that I can't listen to, to tell the truth
there was no way I could love. Especially him.
I don’t deserve him.
“Hyung, where were you all night again?” Wonpil asked, seated on the cold floor, back against the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of hot coffee. Black. Like how Jaehyung didn’t like. Black, like how Jaehyung remembered. Black, like how Jaehyung felt—dirty, dark, stained.
Jaehyung watched how Wonpil’s gaze raked down the length of his body, how those bright eyes lingered at his exposed neck—knew how Wonpil had figured everything out. Jaehyung turned away from Wonpil, vulnerability creeping back to him.
“Studio.” Jaehyung replied, chucking his backpack on the floor. He shucked off his oversized hoodie and flopped onto the couch, feet sticking out over the armrest before he drew them close. He tugged the patchwork quilts—pretty, worn blankets Wonpil’s grandmother had gave Wonpil—around him and pushed his nose deep into the crevices of the blankets.
Inhale, exhale.
Wonpil watched him with despair. It was almost a weekly occurrence, ever since Jaehyung moved into his apartment—Jaehyung would stay out of the apartment for a night, only to come back looking worse for wear. He knew what Jaehyung had been up to recently—coming home with his clothes looking oddly neat, hair down and grazing over the top of his glasses, a couple of bruises peeking underneath his shirt collar that could have easily gone unnoticed.
To anyone else, Jaehyung looked like any other tired college student.
Wonpil knew better. He saw the dark bags under Jaehyung’s eyes (“these are Gucci, mind you,” Jaehyung sniped, waving away Wonpil’s concern), he heard the late night sobs in Jaehyung’s room, he felt the aura of a weathered down soul whenever Jaehyung was in the vicinity.
Wonpil threw one last glance at Jaehyung before retreating back into his room.
He smoothed out the crumpled pieces of paper that he nicked from Jaehyung’s room, fingers running over the words, the lyrics speaking of longing and unrequited, unwanted love, along with phantom melodies conjured up in his mind. Am, F, G.
That night, Wonpil stayed awake, listening to the sobs from the living room blend into his thoughts. Am, F, G.
He knew, that loving someone had consequences, and Jaehyung was paying the price of it.
Jaehyung woke up in a room, sheets tangled around his bare torso. The air was stale, reeking of sweat and whatever activities they did last night. He sat up, running his hands through his clumpy hair and stared at his surroundings.
He felt empty. Hollow. Colours swam in front of his eyes, objects blurring together into a shapeless blob.
Jaehyung wondered when was it that he threw away his dignity, his armour, and bared his vulnerable self to the world.
But he knew. He loved, and love made him show his vulnerability.
Stumbling into the bathroom with his clothes, he caught sight of his face in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, face a little puffy, lips a little bruised. His neck was blue and black and purple, the colours just a swirl of watercolour on canvas; a mistake. He found his glasses by the sink, with one of the temples broken, when the nameless guy roughly pushed his glasses off his face. Jaehyung cleaned himself up, standing too long under the hot shower until his skin turned red. He made sure that his hoodie covered everything, pulled the hood so that he didn’t need to show his face in public.
Jaehyung shoved his broken glasses into his pocket, and tidied the bed. Leave nothing behind. He tidied the bed, straightened the sheets, and left. Leave nothing behind, he repeated, because this doesn’t mean anything to him.
Leave nothing behind.
Except for the stench of guilt, frustration and whatever remains of his heart that he had bared the previous night.
He kept his head down for the entire journey home, hand fiddling with the glasses he kept tucked in his pocket.
I can’t love. Not him.
He was fading away. The only thing he could stomach was guilt. Food became unnecessary. Wonpil found that the leftover food he packed for Jaehyung had spoilt in the fridge again.
Wonpil stared at Jaehyung, who listlessly slouched against his desk, hands fiddling his broken glasses. He watched how Jaehyung stared straight ahead at his glasses, not blinking, not seeing.
Wonpil stopped cooking for two.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
I don’t know how to.
He was Jaehyung’s pillar. He was his warmth, he was his strength, and most importantly, he was immovable.
But Jaehyung was the one who upped and left.
The moment he stepped foot out of the building that housed his studio, he heard someone called his name.
“J-jaehyungie?”
Jaehyung stopped in his tracks. He lifted his head to see past the bill of his cap. That voice.
It was that voice again. Something he thought he would stop missing after he left. The reason he left.
He caught sight of the long beige coat, the skinny jeans and the worn canvas shoes. The familiarity sent a rush of warmth through him. It’s like he never left. His heart started hurting again. He wasn’t supposed to find him, he changed his routines and—
Not his feelings.
Nothing changed. He wished something did.
Jaehyung pulled his cap lower and sprinted in the opposite direction, carelessly bumping into people as he ran, his backpack hitting passers-by as it bounced against his hip.
“Wait! Jaehyung-hyung! Jaehyungie!”
Loving you was free, while it lasted.
He wondered if he would have regretted if he stayed. Because loving him had consequences, yet leaving him was no better.
He was skinny, he was tired. There was no way he could have outrun Younghyun.
He felt desperate fingers curled into the fabric of his oversized hoodie; a rough tug and Jaehyung felt himself stumbling backwards, too long limbs flailing as he tried to regain his balance. The neck of his hoodie pressed into his throat, and his breath got caught in his chest. His vision was blurry; for a second he thought he was going to cry, and he wasn’t going to cry in public, definitely not—and suddenly nothing mattered anymore, as all he see was black, black—and his face was pressed into warmth. The pressure around his neck was gone, but now there was a bone-crushing grip around his torso, and a gentle hand pressing his head into this warmth.
He missed this.
His cap has fallen off in the scuffle; he felt warm fingers curl into his scruffy hair, tugging, rubbing his scalp.
Suddenly, he didn’t feel that empty anymore. All he felt was tired, tired, tired.
He let his eyes slid shut and dug his face deeper into the warmth. He let the warmth dragged him into darkness.
Fuzzy.
There was a buzz that he couldn’t decipher, words that he should comprehend but couldn’t register. He thought he heard his name.
“Jaehyungie-hyung wouldn’t eat. He’s been going around having one-night stands, writing sad lyrics and playing the guitar at 3am on nights he’s home.” Jaehyung heard the murmur of Wonpil’s voice—sweet, sweet Wonpil who sounded like he was on the verge of tears—and he felt that he should apologise for making this poor, sweet boy worry.
He heard another voice, lower this time, faint, and he couldn’t catch a word he said.
Jaehyung blinked awake, peeking through his messy, clumpy bangs.
“You’re awake?”
Younghyun hovered over him, pushing Jaehyung’s bangs away from his eyes. The rough hand brushed against his forehead and Jaehyung jerked away.
Jaehyung sat up and moved away, nodding a reply to Younghyun.
“Can we talk?”
Jaehyung wished nothing had changed.
Loving you was young, and wild, and free
Loving you was cool, and hot, and sweet
Loving you was sunshine, safe and sound
A steady place to let down my defences
But loving you had consequences
Love was good.
Love was warm, love spreads through your limbs and down to your fingertips and leave you fuzzy and content. Love, to Jaehyung, was burrowing his face into the thick scarf that Younghyun had wrapped around his neck on a cold, winter night. Love, to Jaehyung, was when Younghyun buries them both under blankets on lazy days, hands him a cup of hot chocolate, and asked him if he was comfortable enough. Love was when he could tuck himself into Younghyun‘s side and feel like nothing in the world can go wrong.
Love was Younghyun.
(It still is, somehow.)
Jaehyung missed loving Younghyun.
(It hurts more to not love him.)
“Why did you leave?”
“I was scared.”
Loving you was dumb, dark, and cheap
Loving you will still take shots at me
Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured
And I lost so much more than my senses
'Cause loving you had consequences
Jaehyung knew.
There were consequences to loving someone. The idea of love is scary. Or rather, the association with love was frightening. But love was foreign yet familiar because Jaehyung had long associated love with Younghyun.
He thought that if he left, this feeling would leave too. He wouldn’t need to think about the consequences of love. He didn’t need to know if Younghyun loved him back.
It was a dumb idea to love Younghyun.
(But Younghyun was the only one he would love anyway.)
“I missed you. I missed us.”
“What’s...’us’?”
Younghyun held on to Jaehyung hand, not meeting Jaehyung’s eyes.
“I thought you knew.”
Jaehyung stared at their hands—Younghyun’s sturdy, thick-knuckled hand, holding on to his slim, pale fingers. Grasping it lightly as though giving Jaehyung a choice to let go. Grasping it lightly as though Jaehyung would break and he wouldn’t know how to fix him.
“Know what?”
“I love you. I always did.”
Love has consequences. Love is an emotional rollercoaster because love isn’t just love, you see, it’s an emotion-cocktail, all jumbled together, you don’t even see the beginning and the ends of love.
He sees the fondness in younghyun’s eyes.
“Can I love you again?”
Younghyun lets out a shuddering breath, eyes wet and a small smile on his lips. He pressed his face against Jaehyung’s shoulder.
Jaehyung decided that he wouldn’t mind the consequences of love if Younghyun was with him.
Part 2: Younghyun
I have never heard a silence quite so loud
I walk in the room and you don't make a sound, make a sound
You're good at making me feel small
If it doesn't hurt me, why do I still cry?
If it didn't kill me, then I'm half alive
Younghyun was used to being alone. From living alone in middle school, to moving to Canada alone for high school, to going back to Korea and staying in a college dorm alone.
Younghyun was not new to the concept of loneliness.
But he never felt a silence that was so, so loud, that his ears hurt and the back of his eyes pounded, and there’s so much pressure in his chest that he felt suffocated.
“Jaehyungie? W…Where are you going?”
“Hyung, you gotta sleep in your bed, or you’ll regret it in the morning.” Younghyun nudged Jaehyung, who was fast asleep across his lap. Jaehyung just made a small noise before turning and pressing his face into Younghyun’s thighs; something he always like to do, especially when he reassures Younghyun about his weight (“Don’t ever lose weight, Younghyunie, I still need my pillow.” Jaehyung cheekily said, patting Younghyun’s thigh.).
Younghyun gave an exasperated sigh. This was how Friday movie nights always ended—Jaehyung falling asleep on his lap, refusing to get up and Younghyun, being soft-hearted as always, will carry him back to his room. It was a cycle; a routine between two friends who only had the company of each other.
Younghyun reached over to switch the television off, before scooping Jaehyung in his arms—for someone as tall as him, he was really light.
He set Jaehyung down on his bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He gently removed the glasses from his face and set them aside. Brushing some stray strands of hair away from his eyes, Younghyun muttered, “You’re going to be quite the handful for your wife in the future.”
Jaehyung gave a noncommittal snore in response.
Younghyun sighed, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Jaehyung and his wife? Younghyun always wondered how that would look like, but—
“I like you though.”
He couldn’t get used to the silence in his room.
Younghyun spent nights crashing on the couch over at other people’s places, alternating between Sungjin’s and Dowoon’s rooms, who both lived alone. It was uncomfortable, it didn’t smell like his own room and Dowoon was always up banging on his drums or at the door receiving noise complaints in the middle of the night.
It wasn’t like he could sleep without knowing where Jaehyung went, and why Jaehyung left.
“Hyung, should I go look for him?”
Sungjin stared at Younghyun, who was staring down at his glass of beer and probably contemplating his demise via drowning in the dregs of beer. His cheeks were pink, a sure sign that Younghyun is most certainly drunk.
Give him some time, Sungjin said, Jaehyung won’t leave without a good reason.
“Will he come back to me if I asked?”
Sungjin bit his lip. Silence was much better than empty promises. He heaved Younghyun up by the arm and supported him back to his dorm.
2 months later and Younghyun had thrown himself into his schoolwork. Throwing all his focus into his coursework and music composition, life returned to a semblance of normality.
He wrote more songs, about longing, about unrequited, unwanted love. C, Em, G. Sungjin refused to collaborate with him.
The quietness of his room was still deafening. He kept Jaehyung’s room shut.
Sometimes he loitered near Jaehyung’s studio. Never in the building. Always outside. Holding a cup of strawberry latte (almond milk, of course) which was too sweet for his taste.
It was Jaehyung’s favourite, after all.
“J-jaehyungie?”
His name slipped past his mouth easily. It was all too familiar; time had not been able to erase their past together.
Younghyun saw the skinny boy turned around and lifted his head to meet his eyes. Jaehyung’s jaw was a lot sharper, his face a lot paler. He was all angles and bones. The only thing that changed was the new pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
In short, nothing really changed, did it?
Jaehyung’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, and he immediately turned around and sprinted in the opposite direction.
Has he given Jaehyung enough time alone already?
He wasn’t going to let him run.
Younghyun sprinted after Jaehyung, legs pumping in desperation, trying to match Jaehyung’s long strides. As Jaehyung started to slow down, Younghyun leapt forward and tangled his fingers into Jaehyung’s hoodie, pulling him back.
He heard a gasp and a small choke, and quickly released Jaehyung before engulfing him in a hug. Younghyun pressed him tightly against his chest, his sobs caught in his throat and his entire body trembling.
I can’t let you go. Please come back.
“Why did you leave?”
“I was scared. I’m not good enough. And…you won’t like me back”
Jaehyung was scared of love, and all Younghyun wanted to do was give.
“I missed you. I missed us. Come back.”