Work Text:
The crowd moved like the sea and the heavy and heady beat drops were the waves crashing to the shore. It was almost second nature of every person to lap up the beats that bled through the speakers like thirsty sharks. He was used to this, but there was a heavy, unspeakable undercurrent riding the air the day he saw him, with one side of the headphones hanging off his head as he spun beat after beat.
Himchan didn’t even care about the hands on his waist anymore, nor the lingering host of stale air that seemed to press down on his lungs that was till he saw him and his stupid gummy grin seeing the people cheer at his skills and the world seemed interesting enough to give a shit about.
“What’s your name?” he’d asked, practically screaming over the music, and considering that fact that his voice was as deep at the Mariana’s Trench it was very unsuccessful.
“Himchan,” he’d replied none the less, taking a swig of his drink and brazenly winking at the man in front of him. Alcohol didn’t suit him.
There it was another gummy smile that made Himchan want to punch him, with his mouth on his mouth repeatedly.
“Yongguk,” he’d whispered as he passed him to go back to his console, “It was nice meeting you, Himchan.”
And Himchan knew he just knew that he was fucked.
It wasn’t love at first sight; Himchan wasn’t in high school anymore where you had all sorts of stupid and unrealistic notions about love. He was older and knew better, or so he thought. He was used to being judged on his appearance, the hissed profanity under their breaths, the lingering touches that made him want to hurl all the contents of his stomach out. Believe it or not a person could get tired of the ‘pretty boy’ and the slurred and hummed ‘babes’. He even got used to the overplayed Drake songs in the club, the songs the hundred writers won’t get credits for.
He’d expected nothing from anyone he dated, or slept with. It was mutual release, both the people were running away from something and Himchan was okay with it. He’d been burned too many times by the same flame. So he made sure that he wouldn’t get too emotionally invested, oh how wrong he was.
The first sign, as reported by his best friend Daehyun should’ve been the huge bouquet of flowers Yongguk brought for him when they met outside the club at a hole in the wall cafe owned by Yongguk’s friend.
“I didn’t know what kind of flowers you’d like so I brought them all.” He’d said with the cutest smile a person with such intimidating tattoos, by definition shouldn’t possess.
Himchan coloured as shade shy of a beetroot, “Thank you but I’m allergic to flowers.” He’d said watching Yongguk’s eyes comically widen and his hands snatching the flowers back.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He’d looked positively petrified and Himchan couldn’t help but laugh. “I am sorry, I was kidding. I couldn’t help myself I am so sorry, I love them I really do.”
Yongguk had released a breath, and practically pushed the flowers towards him, “Remind me not to get you flowers ever again,” he’d said laughing.
Yongguk’s friend would later tell them that he’d never seen that glint in his eyes or the faint blush on his cheek. And just for that tiny bit of information would earn Junhong a kick in the shin from Yongguk.
No matter how many times Himchan would tell himself not to fall for him, he’d end up falling deeper. He’d always been a bad follower anyway.
“How many tattoos do you have?” Himchan had whispered against his skin one day, when they were a mess of limbs and sheets.
Yongguk had sighed, his fingers tracing a path in Himchan’s hair. “Three, or four I don’t remember.” He’d rumbled in his low baritone.
Both of them were like a splash of colour against the bleak walls of Yongguk’s apartment and the grey of the sheets. It was like a painting, but without the mess of palates and colours and brushes. And Himchan realised maybe it won’t be as messy as he’d imagined if he’d let himself feel this time around.
“Himchan-ah,” Yongguk’s voice had carried over to his practice room as he practiced for a particularly tricky piece for the school recital. “Hm?” he’d replied, feeling the other standing against the door.
“Let’s date.” He’d said his voice cracking and Himchan could feel him blushing like crazy and rubbing the back of his neck.
Not that Himchan was in a better position, his sheet music had clattered to the ground and he’d messed up on one of the notes, which made a weird sound come out of the piano.
“Say what now?” He’d said clearing his throat.
“Let’s date?” Yongguk sounded unsure, uncertain and maybe even scared.
Himchan took a deep breath, “What do you think we’ve been doing for the past two months, Bbang?” he’d asked turning towards him with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t you fucking dare say fooling around because I don’t move in with people I fool around with...” he’d added, which caused Yongguk to open and close his mouth like a blowfish.
“So, were dating then.” He’d said, smirking.
And Himchan wanted to hit him so hard. “Yes, now go change we need to leave for the recital in like an hour, and don’t wear another one of your low cut tank tops, boyfriend.”
The sound of Yongguk choking on his water and then mumbling a very cute, ‘I got to go’ was forever ingrained in his memory. But old habits die hard, and even though everything was amazing and they were happy he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Maybe he was too young still and believed in love more than he probably should’ve, or maybe it was indeed too good to be true. Maybe both of them were too fucked up to work towards something that could be real.
“Get the fuck away from me.” He’d growled, blinking away the tears as he pushed past the crowd of people to move out of the club.
“Himchan, what the hell!” he’d said grabbing his shoulder hard and spinning him around to meet his eyes.
Himchan met his eyes, and the expression in them was mirroring his own, “Don’t touch me, just leave me alone.” He spat.
Yongguk’s expression grew guarded, “You need to tell me what the hell happened in there,” he said running a hand through his hair. “...Fuck Himchan, I don’t know anymore.”
“Just go, I don’t want this anymore. This was a mistake, we were a mistake.” He said, pushing at Yongguk’s chest. “We’re done.”
“What do you mean we’re done?” Yongguk said a fire behind his irises. “You mean that one day you want this and the next day you don’t? This isn’t a fucking game, Kim.” He’d said pulling at his hair. “Maybe it was a game for you, maybe you’re too caught up in being perfect that you’re now drowning and can’t even breathe,” he’d said.
Himchan stood rooted to the spot, the muffled music from the club clouding his thoughts.
“I need to go.” He’d said as his final words, reaching out one last time to hold his hand but chose against it as he walked away from Himchan, like everything good in his life.
The next few days were unbearably long. Himchan didn’t even know what day it was, or what time. He didn’t eat, just tried drowning himself in the embrace of Koreas strongest alcohol and a marathon of old Japanese romance movies.
“Open the door you fat bear or I’ll break it down.” After maybe day 6 or day 7, he didn’t know or care anymore he got up from his couch and walked over to the door with his head spinning.
“Go away, Youngjae.” He said, opening the door just a crack and blinking rapidly at the sunlight. Oh so it was morning. “What the fuck do you all want?” he said, recognising almost all four of ‘their’ mutual friends.
Junhong pushed past him, causing him to stumble a little. “You can’t do this you freaking giant, this is trespassing.” He said running a hand through his icky hair.
Daehyun smirked, “Oh so Kim Himchan does live here, I was wondering when the king of sass became a coward.”
Himchan grimaced, “stop touching my stuff, and get the fuck out.” He mumbled downing a glass of water as his eyes focused on the four people squashed on his couch.
“You get your head out of your ass first.” Youngjae said, munching on HIS chips. “Then we might leave you alone.”
“I don’t know what you mean, and...” Himchan stopped raising an eyebrow at Jongup’s raised hand. “What?”
“The fuck have you been doing hyung?” he said, sounding surprisingly serious for someone who is high half the fucking time, “You had a perfectly amazing thing with Yongguk hyung, and then you went ahead and ruined it with the ‘I am not good enough or I don’t deserve this’ bullshit,” he said.
Himchan raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you dare say that you don’t do relationships because that’s exactly what you said when we were in college.” Daehyun said, munching on again HIS chips.
“So put on a pair of balls and go and kiss Yongguk’s face off because he is insufferable and mean when he is heartbroken.” Junhong said, patting Himchan on his head.
Himchan shook his head; maybe he was still drunk maybe this was not happening.
“Look, the bottom line is that you’re an ass.” Youngjae said, very narrowly dodging Himchan’s punch. “Get your shit together before I make you eat all the face creams you own for breaking a perfectly good persons heart.”
Yongguk clenched his fingers in a fist so tightly, maybe to stop himself from punching his desktop. This mix wasn’t even that tricky but somehow he couldn’t figure out how to layer the two sounds.
It had been two weeks, with zero conversation between the two of them. Himchan hadn’t called, and he hadn’t bothered. It was like he was back to the person he was two years ago, drinking the same shitty filtered coffee, spending days at the studio instead of his cold Himchan less bed.
“Jesus, why won’t you mix you dumb songs!” he swore colourfully at the screen, frustrated with the lack of cooperation from this new programme.
“The fourth bar is off,” A voice said from behind him, and Yongguk froze. He heard footsteps stop behind his chair and a slender finger point at the screen. “If you notice, the syllable here is drawn out as a part of the lyrics so if you try to layer it with a heavy beat it will totally cut off one sound.”
Yongguk looked up at the man beside him and he felt his throat go dry.
“So why don’t you try to, make that part of the song as it is and remaster the rest?” Himchan said his voice hushed. “Maybe that will work.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I missed you.”
“You were the one who said this was a mistake, you were the one who pushed me away.”
“I don’t, I don’t know how to love you. I don’t know if I’m enough.”
Yongguk felt his hands brush, Himchan’s cheek. “I guess we both don’t know a lot of things.”
“We will fight a lot,” Himchan said after a few moment of silence. “Like a lot I am not even exaggerating. I am a very difficult person to be with.”
Yongguk smiled, “I’ll manage.” And Himchan felt like maybe adults could believe in their own tiny fairytales once in a while.
- 3 months later –
Himchan was sprawled on the sofa with his nose buried in the curve of Yongguk’s neck. “Bbang?” he mumbled, his lips moving against his skin.
“What?” Yongguk rumbled one hand tracing words on Himchan’s arm the other stuffing his mouth with popcorn.
Himchan pressed a kiss to his jaw, “Are you sure you don’t want to get my face tattooed on your bicep?”
“Himchan, no.”
“Your loss, because it would have been fucking fabulous.”
-fin-