Chapter Text
Glittery eyes and gold rings
Rich kids promised me the best kind of high
High like Icarus with his wings
Old and new money, trust fund babies
Of tequila, salt and lemons
I hated their sweaty bodies
We drank divine gold
Said it was from the fountain of youth
Said it was magic and love and life
Sweet like sugar and bitter like the truth
Put me under, headfirst in the water
They put me in crystal glasses
Filled it with supermodel tears
Drowned me in molasses
Fountain of youth, they liked to call it
The neon lights and our photographed kiss
Now the magic makes me vomit
He spoke and butterflies came out of his mouth
I blindly believed when he said
the sun rises in the south
"I wanna retire."
Gun said as he sat on a bar stool, leaning on the counter as he watched Off clean shot glasses.
"No, you don't." Off deadpanned, not looking up from what he was doing.
It was a lazy afternoon and Off had been doing his usual routine before the pub opened at nine, when Gun came in looking every bit like a musician in dire need of sleep and caffeine: an oversized black silk shirt that showed his collarbones, vintage sunglasses he didn't even need (there were stormy clouds outside), designer pants, and a beat up pair of Converse high's that Off remembered had been around ever since he first met Gun.
"How would you know?" Gun took his sunglasses off and squinted his eyes playfully, "I could be planning to set up a farm somewhere. Live a cottagecore life where I sing to birds and mice."
"You wanna be Cinderella?"
"No." Gun snorted. "She's broke, I'm not."
Off let out a disbelieving laugh. The little shit.
"Babe, I think all this indie pop alternative rock superstar shit has gone up to your head." He shook his head amusingly, eyes bright and teeth showing in a rare smile. "What are you even doing here?"
"I missed you." Gun pouted exaggeratedly, "P'Kwang got sick of me whining so she just called it a day and sent me here."
"For someone who's supposed to be famous, you sure aren't busy." Off sighed tiredly, knowing Gun was in one of his clingy moods where he just wanted to touch and snuggle. "Come here."
Gun went around the counter and got inside, practically running in a hurry to be in Off's arms.
"P'Off, I wanna cuddle." He squeezed Off's torso tightly and inhaled his scent, closing his eyes as he hugged his comfort person. "You should go set up a bed in the lounge room."
Off let out a short laugh that rang in the empty pub, and Gun smiled because Off had been laughing and smiling a lot lately.
"Gun, the last time we "cuddled", you sucked me off high and dry." Off said nonchalantly and Gun usually was open with talks of intimacy, but Off took open-mindedness to a whole new level. Off always made him blush.
"Yeah, I was pretty proud of myself." He mumbled on Off's shirt.
"Good times, baby." He felt Off's large hands smooth his hair and he wanted to tell him off because it took a long time to style, but how can he tell him to stop when he loved every second of it? "Now tell me what's bothering you."
Gun's smile dimmed, but his heart warmed at how Off knew him inside out.
Over the years, Gun had mastered the art of deception; smiling when he was sad, faking enthusiasm when he was so tired he could barely stand, looking healthy when he's rotten inside.
You would think that artists would be the most transparent people in the world with how they wear their hearts on their sleeve, but Gun had been living in a masquerade all this time. He danced, sang, chatted and laughed when he needed to, but when the music stopped and the lights went down, he'd take off his mask only to see ugly fat tears and a sewed up smile.
Gun would look at himself in the mirror and wonder how it came down to drinking problems, fuckboys and a bad reputation, when all he had ever wanted was to sing.
Gun hated himself, but everytime he did, Off would be like a soothing balm by his side: cool and steady, never speaking up but Gun knew that he was there, and Off saw him for what he really was.
"I'm going to sing at Olympus tonight, P'."
"Olympus? Oat's club?" Off asked without giving anything away in his voice.
Oat had been a past flame that introduced him to what was to become his downfall. He took Gun to club parties of Bangkok's elite and they all looked at Gun--- wide-eyed and shiny--- like he was the newest toy on the shelf.
They wanted to play. They wanted to ruin; and ruin him, they did. Oat was the catalyst of it all.
"Yes, that one." Gun confirmed, not looking at Off directly to hide his uncertainty.
"And? Are you nervous you'd meet the fucktard there?" Gun's head snapped up and he looked at Off disbelievingly. Off never cursed like that.
"Gun cleared his throat to regain his composure. "Oat's nobody to me now, but he gave me so much to remember, P'. Ugly things I wanted to forget."
Sometimes, Gun cries with frustration at how unfair life was. He was a good person because he wanted to be one, which was why he couldn't understand for the life of him, why he had to be responsible with dealing with the trauma other people gave him. He didn't even ask for anything like it in the first place.
"I understand." Gun felt Off's left hand caressing his cheek, and he let out a sigh because Off does that sometimes--- one gentle touch and everything's okay. Off had always been capable of fixing everything. "But how do I make you feel better?"
"I don't know. Gimme kisses, I guess?" Gun smiled slightly when Off immediately gave him a peck on the lips. "Kisses, Off. I said kisses."
Off's eyebrows shot up and that made Gun giggle. "So it's really just Off now, huh? You know you got me wrapped around your finger?"
Gun giggled some more and smiled at him so brightly, a sparkle in his eye that made Off smile as well.
"I love you." Gun's heart started beating faster, just like it always did with Off. "And you're strong. And beautiful. And perfect. And you can look at those rich kids in the eye, and make them see that you survived. You'll let them know that you got yourself out of that hellhole, and they didn't."
Gun chuckled, wanting to hide that he was seconds away from crying. "If I'd known you'd be such a great boyfriend, I would've dated you sooner."
Off threw his head back and roared a laugh, and Gun marvelled at the sound because it wasn't all the time that Off sounded so carefree, and knowing that he did that, Gun felt like flying.
He looked up at Off who was now stared at him. His eyes were shining with mirth and his hands were on Gun's waist, the warmth of his skin seeping through Gun's silk shirt.
Gun played with the hair on Off's nape and slowly raked his hands through its thickness, enjoying how soft it was even without product.
It was one of those moments that Gun wondered if he ever really loved before because he swore loving Off felt like loving for the first time.
He realized how his first kiss in that smelly locker room in middle school contrasted greatly to that slow kiss he first shared with Off at his pub's lounge. How bathroom quickies lost their appeal to him the moment he felt how freeing it was to be vulnerable in Off's careful hands when they made love for the first time on their last night ni Pattaya, when he finally had the courage to say I love you to him.
Off made him feel like he was feeling things for the first time, because it had been a long time since he allowed himself to bask in the intensity of his emotions.
His eyes were shining as he rose on his tiptoes, locking his lips with Off who responded with the same amount of fervor.
It started with slow brushes of their lips, until Off opened his mouth to capture Gun's lower lip and nibbled on it, an action that always elicited a tiny moan out of Off. And it always stroked Gun's ego because while he knew his lips looked great, no one had ever been this desperate for his lips, not until Off.
("Why does it even turn you on? They're just lips, Off."
"I know how they look stretched and wrapped around my dick. Of course, they would always turn me on."
"Go fuck yourself."
"I'd fuck you *wink*.")
"Upstairs?" Gun gasped as Off took hold of his butt and lifted him up. He circled his legs around Off's hips.
Without a word, Off took them upstairs where he had his personal space: a wide loft pad that looked very much like his previous apartment, with a balcony that overlooked the busy downtown street.
Gun loved staying over at Off's place because as noisy as it can get with all the pubs and restaurants around them, Gun loved how it almost felt normal. Like they were just two lovers, figuring out how to live life day by day, trying to find peace in each other amidst the chaos.
Gun started unbuttoning his own shirt haphazardly but Off's hands stopped him. Off went down on his knees to kneel before Gun while the latter sat on the couch, legs wide apart and looking flushed.
"Let me make you feel good." Off said, his voice deep and eyes sharp--- the exact image that came up to Gun's mind whenever he watched Off do something and was very determined to get it done perfectly.
This was how Off looked like when he was in what Gun dubbed as his "killer manager mode", wherein he'd rather do everything himself because anyone else would just fuck it up.
Gun remembered how despite being one of the youngest in the company, everyone looked up to Off and were even intimidated by him, because he was just so efficient and organized in everything he did.
Off scared him sometimes, and this was one of those moments.
He took Gun's belt off and pulled his pants and boxers down as soon as he undid the zipper. Gun moaned at the first feel of Off's hand on his dick.
"You sure, babe?" Gun asked, knowing that Off was not really used to giving fellatio. That was usually Gun's area of expertise (Off swore by Gun's delectable mouth).
"Why? Scared I'd be too good at it?"
Off smirked and the image of his infuriatingly smug face and Gun's hard dick so close together, almost made Gun come on the spot.
"You motherfu--- oh."
Off's warm mouth went in for the kill and swallowed half of Gun's length, before taking it out and licking from the tip down to the base.
He repeated the action a few more times before he settled with Gun's dick fully in his mouth and bobbed his head up and down. His occasional grunts of pleasure gave vibrations to Gun's dick that added to the sensation.
Gun felt Off's hands grip his thighs harder, and he raked both of his hands on Off's soft hair, as if telling him, Go on. Suck harder.
Gun was a moaning mess. His face was to the ceiling and his hips started to move as he throat-fucked Off. Meanwhile, Off had his eyes on Gun the whole time to make sure that he was doing it right with pleasuring Gun.
It had been more than a year since they started their relationship and by this time, Off prided himself in knowing everything about Gun's body--- how to make him squirm, how to make love to him, and how to fuck his brains out properly. Off made sure that he knew it all.
"I'm close." Gun whimpered.
With that, Off sucked harder and faster. His hands went under Gun's hips and fondled his ass, his fingers dangerously close to where he wanted to be next.
He took Gun deeper and just when he felt his eyes water from the pressure on his throat, he felt warm spurts of come shoot into his mouth.
He sealed his lips firmly around Gun's dick to not let even a microliter of that sweet, sweet juice out of his mouth; Off was greedy like that when it came to Gun.
When he was sure that Gun was done with his release, Off reached for Gun's chin to let him see how he swallowed all of his come. Then he licked his way up and down Gun's length without breaking his stare.
"Had to make sure you're all nice and clean." Off smirked when he felt Gun's dick twitch near his cheek.
"Off." Gun whined.
Off knew that his boyfriend wanted to fuck.
Off was painfully hard in his pants and there's nothing he wanted more than to be inside Gun, but he knew that his lover had business to attend.
He rose from his kneeling position on the floor and looked down at Gun, leveling his prominent bulge with the latter's face. Gun tried to touch but Off captured his wrist and held him up. He pulled Gun's pants and boxers up around his hips, and secured it with his belt.
"Off. Let me." He smirked at Gun's pleading tone, and held his waist gently to pull him closer.
He tilted his head down and gave a peck, and when Gun gave an answering one, Off pulled him closer and gave Gun one of the lewdest kiss he had ever experienced.
The obscene sound of their lips molding together echoed in the room, and that made Gun even more eager to have Off into bed with him.
His six o'clock appointment be damned (he didn't want to go, anyway).
Off had his hands on Gun's ass, fondling them almost painfully through his expensive pants, his mouth and tongue expertly making a statement.
"Taste that?" Off whispered when they came up for air. "That's you on my tongue. Remember that when that bastard even breathes in your direction."
Off's eyes glinted in the afternoon sunlight coming in through his windows, and Gun was never religious, but he swore Off looked like an avenging angel.
"Are you being possessive right now?" Gun smiled coyly.
"No, of course not." Off smiled wickedly as he ran his tongue over his lower lip. "Just wanna give you something to think about."
Off thrusted once playfully on Gun's hip, and Gun threw his head back and laughed as he felt his worries slowly fade away.
Later that night, as he sang the song he wrote about cheap thrills in front of the same people who gave him just that, he did not let himself shrink away. He finally had the grime out of his system. They had nothing on him now.
They gave him water from the fountain that killed his youth, but he was saved by his lover who breathed into him the elixir that brought him back to life.