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It’s funny, how half of Seoul is spread through for his eyes to see, yet Jiyong never feels as empty as this before.
He knows he has it all. Fame, money. What more could a guy ask for? He practically had people on their knees just by walking by, begging for a piece of him to be shared. He knows it’s part of the job, yet each day that passes, he feels like they took and took and took – until there is no part of him left, until he’s nothing more than a hollow shell of who he used to be.
Jiyong doesn’t remember who he was before all this. He knows it’s there, somewhere. the real him. Or at least, that’s what people say. The real you is still inside, just hiding beneath all the masks. In this industry, wearing masks is a necessity, and God, did Jiyong do it well. Too well, even, until the masks are melting against one another, molding into a mess one would be frightened at only the sight of it.
He takes a puff again with his shaking fingers, head thrown back against the wall of his balcony. His apartment feels too big. Too suffocating. He knows he’s supposed to be grateful. He is. He is grateful for what he has, but the cost of it is his soul. He's devoid of a soul, now.
Jiyong tries to write. He wrote something but then scratches lines over them because all of them are too real. Too raw. Too honest. It’s dangerous – they all are around him, waiting like sharks for any ounce of blood. Jiyong's not fond of having cameras all over him again, with people screaming his name on the streets, asking questions he doesn’t even want to answer.
He threw his notebook to the other side of the room last night. He’s frustrated. He’s supposed to be better than this, Goddamn it, but his head keeps pounding and pounding and pounding –
Jiyong breathes. It's cold outside, but he doesn’t even bother to put on a jacket.
I want to die, he thinks. What if I jump?
That would be a great headline. Popstar Kwon Jiyong, known as G-Dragon, aged 36, jumped from his balcony on Tuesday night. Horribly depressed. Lonely. Consumed by death.
Unable to resist, Jiyong looks down. Traffic in Seoul is terrific, but he’s high enough he would be dead before people would realize who jumped. That would be painful, but his whole life is. Every inch of him is full of pain, now. It’s better to end it all, right?
Jiyong takes a step closer to the fence. His shaking fingers drop his cigarette to the floor, then hold the fence with a weak grip. The wind is soft on his face, almost like a touch. He takes a deep breath.
It feels like he’s under water, sometimes. As if he’s screaming but no one hears. Now it is nothing different. Only it feels like he stops struggling and gasping for air, but chooses to drown instead.
What a beautiful day to die, he thinks, smiling ruefully.
He’s ready to lean over, but then the loud sound of his doorbell rings in his ears.
Jiyong's eyes open immediately. His hands are still gripping the fence, but the hold’s weaker now.
“It's me,” says a very unexpected voice. “The security buzzed me down there. Are you inside?”
To say Jiyong froze is an understatement. He's stuck in his position for a few seconds before he lets go of the railings, turning back around and walking on auto pilot. He stops at the door, seeing that familiar face on the screen. Jiyong holds his breath.
It's him. It's Seunghyun.
“Jiyong?” comes his voice again, though it's softer now. “Are you inside?”
With shaking hands, Jiyong opens the door. The sight of a clearly exhausted Seunghyun welcomes him.
Jiyong drinks the sight like a starving man. It's been so long. It's been so, so long.
“What are you—” he manages to speak, but it cuts off. Seunghyun is as beautiful as ever, tall and silent, a grace in his slightest move Jiyong could never forget. “Why are you here?”
There it is, the anger. Jiyong welcomes it with ease, because anger is easy. Easier than the other emotions that have been pounding his heart ever since he saw Seunghyun for the first time.
Seunghyun studies his face. He's quiet now. Quieter than he was ever before. Somewhere deep inside, Jiyong's heart breaks.
“I wanted to see you,” he replies, voice low. soft.
Why now? is what Jiyong wanted to ask, but he’s just so tired. He doesn’t want to deal with this. He could kick Seunghyun out. He could close his door and they would go back to where they were, giving cold shoulders to each other, avoiding eyes here and there. Seunghyun wouldn’t mind, if that’s what he does. Jiyong knows he wouldn’t.
But it’s been so long. So long since he saw Seunghyun’s face this up close, so long since they stand face-to-face. So long since Seunghyun ran away and Jiyong let him.
Jiyong opens his door a little bit wider and sighs. “Come on in,” he says.
Seunghyun does. They walk in silence to Jiyong's couch. The balcony’s door is still open. Seunghyun glances at it, and then to the cigarette on the floor, but Jiyong doesn’t speak on it. He deals with Seunghyun’s silence for so long, Seunghyun sure can deal with some of it.
“What do you want to drink,” Jiyong asks as he walks to his wine cellar. His heart’s pounding on his chest, and Seunghyun's the better actor between them both, but Jiyong can act, too. That's what he did, during the end. Acting as if everything was fine. As if Seunghyun didn’t wreck himself and Jiyong didn’t scream at him to get up and fix them.
“Whatever you want,” Seunghyun answers. his deep voice trails in his apartment, and Jiyong can’t help but shiver.
He picks a white wine then pour it into two glasses. Jiyong can feel Seunghyun’s eyes on him the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything. The bitter part of him reminds him that he had done most of the talk. Now is Seunghyun’s turn, but of course, Seunghyun doesn’t. Jiyong chuckles bitterly to himself before bringing both of the glasses to the couch. Seunghyun takes it. Their hands brush a bit as he does, and Jiyong couldn’t lie to himself and say it does nothing to him.
After all, Jiyong loved Seunghyun. Jiyong loved him with his all. It’s just not enough for him.
Jiyong sits, stubbornly not looking at him. Seunghyun doesn’t even hide the way he’s clearly taking him in.
They drink in silence, too. Jiyong's tired of silence, but Seunghyun seems so fond of it. Too fond, even, that he didn’t say anything these past two years. Leaving him behind as if Jiyong’s just a piece of his past not worth looking back anymore. As if he never whispered that Jiyong’s the love of his life before. As if he never told Jiyong that he would go to the end of the earth for him.
“Are you okay?” Seunghyun asks, finally. His voice is soft as he traces his glass, not once looking at anything other than Jiyong.
Jiyong doesn’t answer immediately. He stares at the black screen of his TV, thinking. Calculating.
“No,” is what he settles on. Jiyong turns to look at Seunghyun, capturing his gaze for the first time that night. “Why do you care?”
After all these years, is what is left unspoken. But Seunghyun knows. Of course he does. Seunghyun was once the half of his soul. A fragment of his heart. Seunghyun used to know him like the back of his hand.
Seunghyun's gaze softens, but he doesn’t say sorry. There's a part of him Jiyong could never understand, because Seunghyun didn’t let him. He kept that part to himself, clinging on to it like he should’ve held Jiyong.
“You don’t look okay,” he says. “I'm worried about you.”
Jiyong wants to laugh. A hysterical one, at that, but he couldn’t bring himself to. His eyes are stuck at Seunghyun, though what he wants to do is scream at him for everything.
For leaving him when times get hard. For not looking back. For not reaching out. For giving up on them.
Seunghyun places his glass on the table. “I still care about you,” he says, a moment later. “I want you to be okay, Jiyong.”
“Of course you do,” Jiyong says, bitterness coating his voice. “That's why you left me behind, right?”
Seunghyun sighs.
Good, Jiyong thinks. Do something. Be mad .
Jiyong would rather scream at each other than play this fake game that they’re okay, that they’re just old friends, that they’re nothing.
“I still do care about you, despite all that,” Seunghyun finally says.
Anger’s bubbling on Jiyong's chest now. “You don’t get to pretend you care about me, Hyung. Not after that.”
He’s aware of his shaking voice. His hands, too, are shaking on his lap, but Jiyong couldn’t care less. “Not after you leave.”
“Jiyong.”
“Let's not do this, alright?” Jiyong stands, his eyes prickling with tears. “You don’t get to be calm. Do you know how much I struggled after you left? Do you know how many times I begged you to stay and—and you didn’t?”
There’s a pained look in Seunghyun's eyes. “I know,” he says, “I know.”
“Then why,” Jiyong chokes on his sobs, “why do you leave? Why do you give up on us? On me?”
Seunghyun goes silent, on that.
Jiyong takes a shaky breath. “You left,” he says. He sounds so desperate it even surprised him. “You left me.”
Seunghyun stands, walking until he’s standing tall in front of Jiyong. Jiyong feels so small. So, so small.
“I know,” he says, as desperate as Jiyong is. “I know. I'm sorry.”
“You left,” That’s all Jiyong can say. “You left.”
“I’m sorry,” Seunghyun pulls him closer. Jiyong tries to push him away, but he’s always stronger than Jiyong. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
After all, Jiyong loves him. It’s insane, the amount of love he has for this man, how he long and yearned for him all these years. Jiyong could finally breathe after Seunghyun kissed him on that Tuesday night after holding in his breath for years before. He was saved. Seunghyun was his savior, then turned into what killed him, too. It was tragic how Jiyong still loves this man after he left him behind.
He sobs and sobs, letting Seunghyun finally hold him, arms on either side of his body. “I'm sorry,” is all Seunghyun whispers, repeating it against Jiyong's hair as he kisses his temple. So soft, so gentle, as if Jiyong’s precious, as if he’s a piece of glass about to break. “I'm sorry, Jiyong.”
Seunghyun's hugs always feel like home to him. A place for him to rest, to unwind, to place all the baggage on his shoulders. They used to lay on the floor together, talking about everything and nothing at once, while Seunghyun's arms were wrapped tight around his body. They shared dreams. They shared nightmares, too. Turns out Seunghyun’s nightmares were too much for him to handle, and it was the very first crack on the glass.
They started to fight, after that. Jiyong wanted to be let in, and Seunghyun said no. No matter how many times Jiyong begged, Seunghyun didn’t let him. Jiyong could only watch as seunghyun suffered, helpless.
Distance grew between them, then. Seunghyun didn’t come home and Jiyong became too tired to ask. He let Seunghyun go, pretending to be asleep, as if his heart didn’t break into pieces when he heard the soft click of the door as Seunghyun went.
Even when his sobs lessen, Seunghyun's arms don’t waver.
“Why,” he asks, finally, though it comes out like a whimper. “Why?”
Seunghyun doesn’t answer, for a minute. “I was being a coward,” he says quietly. “I couldn't be what you wanted.”
This was what they fought about, all the time. Seunghyun felt imperfect while Jiyong looked at him as if he’s the sun. Jiyong would desperately tell him that he didn’t mind while Seunghyun went silent, as always. He would always look at Jiyong like he didn’t believe him. Like Jiyong's lying.
“You deserve someone better,” was what he said before Jiyong closed the door on him, sobbing as he dropped to the floor. What Seunghyun didn’t understand is that Jiyong didn’t want him to be perfect. As long as Seunghyun’s his and he’s Seunghyun’s, he didn’t give a fuck about anything. He tried to explain, numerous times. He tried to whisper it, to say it, or even scream it, but he was met with a very pained look that painted Seunghyun’s face, as if to say Jiyong didn’t understand.
Jiyong didn’t, because Seunghyun never let him.
He begged on his knees to be let in, but Seunghyun’s so lost in his own mind that he didn’t hear Jiyong's pleas.
“Hyung, please,” he said, once, desperate to get Seunghyun out of the bed, but Seunghyun’s as pale as a ghost, looking at him like he’s looking through him. “I want to help. Let me help.”
Seunghyun didn’t answer. Jiyong ended up sleeping beside him, but Seunghyun didn’t even close his eyes throughout the night, spending his time staring at the ceiling.
Seunghyun suffered, this Jiyong knows. What he wanted was to be there for him, but Seunghyun didn’t let him.
“Sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all,” Jiyong screamed, once, when they fought about something he didn’t even remember. They fought so much towards the end that he couldn’t keep track of which is which, anymore. “Do I know you, Hyung? Do I?”
“You do,” was Seunghyun’s reply. He stood tall in front of Jiyong, chest-to-chest with him, but Jiyong never felt that far from him before. “You do.”
They fucked, after that, in lieu of communicating. When Seunghyun tried to wrap him in his arms after, Jiyong pushed him away and went off to his room, crying as he did.
They never talked. If they did, it would always ended up with fucking, or Jiyong pulling him down on a rough kiss as a desperate attempt to make him say something.
The problem was that Seunghyun never did.
Jiyong's no saint. He knows he made mistakes, too, but he tried all he could. He tried to be there for Seunghyun. He really did, but Seunghyun kept pushing him away.
“You don’t need to see this side of me,” was what he said once as he finished crying, eyes bloodshot. “I don't want you here, Jiyong. Please get out.”
What Seunghyun didn’t understand is that Jiyong loved every part of him. Every side of him. He's not there only for the good side. He wanted to be there too, when Seunghyun’s struggling, when Seunghyun fought the demons inside his head, when it became too much for Seunghyun to handle. Jiyong wanted to.
“You were all that I wanted,” he says, chest hurting, eyes prickling with tears again. “I wanted you .”
Seunghyun sighs. He pulls back a little, looking at Jiyong like he’s committing him to memory. “I know,” he murmurs with regret in his voice. “But I'm not what you needed, Jiyong.”
There it is again. Seunghyun is talking for him, deciding for him. Jiyong pushes him away, though it’s no use. “You’re not the one to decide that,” he says, fuming. “Stop trying to dictate what I need. It's my decision. It’s mine to decide.”
Seunghyun stares at him, hands on his waist, smiling sadly, like he knows something Jiyong doesn’t. “Your future’s bright,” he says, “I couldn't bring you down with me.”
So what? Jiyong couldn’t care less. He would go down if that means he would go down with Seunghyun.
There’s a pained look on Seunghyun’s face again, as if he knows what Jiyong wants to say. “I love you,” he says, “I don't want you to fall with me.”
The present tense has him choking down a sob.
Seunghyun sighs, slowly raising his hand as if not to spook Jiyong. He caresses his face with a gentleness only Seunghyun could give. “I know I hurt you,” he whispers, “And I can't forgive myself for that. But I will only drag you down. You’re what I treasure, Jiyong. I couldn't let you fall with me.”
Seunghyun's smiling, then, a sad smile that Jiyong’s familiar with. It’s a sight he saw towards the end, when all they did was fight.
One late at night, they laid beside each other after they finished fucking, a rare occurrence in between Jiyong running away and Seunghyun avoiding his eyes. He laid his head on his palm, looking down at Jiyong with a sad smile, tracing his face with a light touch. Jiyong couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He was afraid if all this was a dream, if he fell asleep without his knowing and dreamed Seunghyun being affectionate with him again.
“Beautiful,” Seunghyun whispered, then kissed his closed eyes, his nose, his cheeks. It was all so gentle, Jiyong couldn’t help but tear up. “Beautiful,” he said, then finally pressed his lips against Jiyong. It was an innocent kiss, nothing more than two lips pressed against each other, nothing like a rough, broken kiss they shared earlier. “Beautiful,” Seunghyun whispered for the last time, looking at Jiyong with a sad smile on his lips.
That night, Seunghyun wrapped him in his arms, letting Jiyong lay down on his chest, hearing his heartbeat as he went to sleep. The next morning, Jiyong woke up to nothing but a cold bed.
“I need you to be safe,” he says. For the first time tonight, Seunghyun's voice quivers. “I need you to be healthy. To reach for the stars. To be carefree. I need you to live, Jiyong,” his hand cups Jiyong's cheek. There are tears in Seunghyun’s eyes, Jiyong realizes. “I need you to live. To be happy.”
Even without me, goes unspoken.
“I don't want to,” Jiyong murmurs, ever stubborn, ever jumping into things head first, like he always is. “I don't want to.”
Not without you, goes unspoken, too.
Jiyong loved Seunghyun, and he knows Seunghyun loved him, too. But sometimes he wonders if the love they had is enough, because all they seemed to be doing was freeze in silence. Because all they did was everything but talking.
“Jiyong,” Seunghyun says, his voice low, his eyes sad as he does it again — tracing his face with a light touch, like it would be the last time they saw each other. Jiyong holds his waist, then, in a desperate attempt to keep him there.
And isn’t that what he always does? Trying to keep Seunghyun in the ground while he belongs in the wind. He truly feels at home in it in a way that Jiyong doesn’t understand.
“My baby,” he says again, “My baby.”
Sometimes Jiyong curses the fame and the lights and all of this town for ruining Seunghyun. For ruining a man he loves and makes him different. For ruining them both. He closes his eyes, because deep down, Jiyong knows — this is the last time.
Jiyong feels tears running down his cheeks, and Seunghyun’s thumb wiping it gently. “My baby,” Seunghyun whispers, then starting to kiss his closed eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his chin — all while whispering those two words with a quivering voice.
“You are all I love,” Seunghyun says, finally, after what seems like a long time passes. Jiyong stubbornly doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to look at Seunghyun and realize that this is the last time he held him this close. He doesn’t want to look at Seunghyun and is forced to commit his face to memory, too.
“And I'm sure you’ve got a bright future ahead of you,” Seunghyun’s voice is truly shaking now. “And you’ll be a good partner to someone. A good father,” he touches Jiyong's cheek again.
Jiyong is crying now, heavy sobs coming back. He remembers how they used to think about having children and needing to buy a bigger home to host all their cats and dogs and their children, remembers how he laughed when Seunghyun said he would probably piss himself when he held them for the first time, remembers how giddy he felt at the promise of the future. Their future.
“You'll be the greatest star that ever existed, with a light so bright it would reach the moon,” Seunghyun whispers. “And I'll watch.”
Jiyong sobs. He opens his eyes, can’t help it anymore, and sees Seunghyun crying, too, though there’s still that damn sad smile on his face. He throws his arms around Seunghyun's neck, hugging him tight as he shakes his head, as if saying no.
“You'll be great, sweetheart,” is all Seunghyun says, pressing kisses to his temple every now and then, as he holds Jiyong tightly. “You'll be so, so great.”
No. Not without Seunghyun.
Not without the man who held him when he had his doubts about his future. Not without the man who shared dreams and nightmares with him during their early days as they worked on their songs. Not without the man who he loved. Not without the man he loves.
“I love you,” Seunghyun whispers. “I love you so much.”
Then why do you leave, is what Jiyong wants to say.
Later, when Seunghyun lay him down on his bed after he tires himself off from crying, when Seunghyun kisses him slow and tender, when Seunghyun pulled him close and let him rest on his chest, hands on the small of his back, rubbing absentmindedly as he keeps saying, “I love you,” and kisses Jiyong’s temple every now and then, Jiyong knows. No matter how many times Jiyong tries to convince him to stay, Seunghyun’s decision is final.
Seunghyun's decision to leave him is his act of love. After all, Seunghyun loves him in a way he doesn’t understand.
The next morning, Jiyong wakes up to a cold bed.