247bang-blog

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his hands are on the elder’s shoulders in the terrible excuse of keeping his balance. truth to be told, being physically intimate with loved ones comes as second nature to yoongi. it was DIFFICULT to trust the elder at first when there were two mobile screens separating them from each other as they interacted, but it all payed off now. he dipped his head slightly as to allow yongguk easier access to the back of his head. yoongi nodded at the question, as if his sounds of contentment wasn’t enough to assure the other that he definitely loves being pampered. “ who doesn’t, ” yoongi mumbled. looking up, he received another kiss && smiled sweetly. “ guk, can we order that food now? it’s getting a little too warm in this bathroom anyway… ” from what he could see in the mirror, his skin was quite red && it wasn’t just a blush.

After Yoongi was squeaky clean and all dry, they went back to the room. 

Food menu was quite rich, growing from simple cheap snacks to three-course meals. Yongguk stayed on his robe even though he brought fresh clothes on his beat-up gym bag near the door. It was just more comfortable like that. 

The menu was tall and bound with hard plastic. "Feel free to order what you want. I'll see what I get after you unless you want to share a meal?” He gave Yoongi the menu for him to choose away while Guk pulled the soiled sheets off. He’d ask for new sheets over the phone later anyway because they would stay for a little while longer - it seemed. “I’d eat literally anything by now.” 

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It’s that kind of plot twists Jiyong likes. Now that he thinks back to it, he was sure he’d bump into some gaudy grim reaper, whose scythe could probably outshine all the blinding neons. This mental image occurring in his head that was so close to getting unstrung diverts him from the tangible reality, but the warmth intensifying near his fingers brings him back. Partly, because he still wonders why would his mind even conceptualize that picture.

Dropping the finished cigarette on the ground, he stubs it out with his shoe whilst chuckling at the night’s drolleries and miracles. It takes one to know one, doesn’t it? Since he was lucky enough to spend the time in such congenial company, he shouldn’t curse this god-awful tumult posing to be a party.

“If not you, I would’ve gone crazy already,” Jiyong grins cordially, giving his hand a firm shake. “Stay safe. I will see you around, I hope.” Wandering off bit by bit, he waves at the other and smiles gleefully once more. He’s positive they will cross paths someday, perhaps just as coincidentally.

THE END

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food.

“is it–is it okay if i–” words stumble as he speaks, as his eyes focused on the grapes and water in front of him. how his stomach is clawing his inside, begging to be filled with something. how his throat is crying to have a little rain on their drought.

"Oh, of course. I got it for you.” Yongguk helps, bringing the fruit and water closer to Jimin on the tray so he could support it on his lap. “Eat slowly, okay? I have soup too if you want.” Yongguk is not the best cook in the universe but he can damn well prepare easy things to eat. Some days you just don’t feel like complicated food, you have no appetite, you just eat because you have to. 

He gives Jimin some space, dragging his chair close to keep an eye on that lost boy on his couch. 

What the fuck he got himself into? 

“Do you need me to call someone?”

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“It becomes this… craze-inducing gibberish,” he slowly shakes his head, brows briskly shifting upwards before glancing at the cigarette stuck between his fingers. “From what I know, these shouldn’t have much of an effect on us. But maybe the air pollution is getting to us?”

"I knew I was gonna die in this place.” Yongguk’s deep voice sounds like laughter. Maybe he is getting infected by the party-energy of that godforsaken neon rave. Maybe the tiredness of working all day long made his body disassociate from his mind. Maybe it’s finally having a cigarette to smoke. Maybe it’s talking to someone that isn’t high as a kite. 

Speaking of cigarettes, his was almost at the butt. He sucked the last drag in, savoring it for a little longer. Fuck, a mental reminder to buy more cigs, more orange juice, wet wipes, chicken breasts, what else? God, what’s he doing there?

He turns to Jiyong for another handshake, cig glued to his lips. “But hey man thanks for the cigarette and the talk, really saved my night.” 

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Although he could still find traces of the boy he used to talk during high school, Yongguk looked different, but it was just appearance-wise and it didn’t really matter. After a few minutes of chaos and confusion, they were finally face to face. Seokjin’s arms were placed on the other’s shoulder, unsure if he could took his hand without making him fall again. He looked at the older, waiting for him to say something when he felt like it, but what came from his mouth made him confused. “What?” Seokjin chuckled. “Ah, yeah. You too. Are you doing well, hyung? I was hoping to find you and… catch up.”

Yongguk’s brain was overworking itself, reviewing every moment of his life he edited Seokjin out and now pasting him in again. He was alive all the time. It’s a lot to take in, sober or not. 

But what did it matter? The circumstances didn’t matter, really. What happened, why it happened, they could work the details later — all that mattered is that Seokjin was right in front of him, grown-up, laughing, healthy, alive.

“Yeah-” His voice sounded strangled, it was only then that Yongguk realized he was trying not to cry. When he moved again, and he didn’t fall this time, was to pull Seokjin into a hug by the neck, squeezing his best friend from years ago that was alive. The only true friend he ever had.

He allowed himself this much, to hug Jin and cry a little. It could have been the booze, but that also didn’t matter. Up until that point in his life, Yongguk never saw himself as not-alone. Ever since school he never connected, never opened up with anyone else. 

— It could sound selfish to put those feelings on top of Seokjin, see him as the hope to have his true friend back again like it was his second chance, a relief to his heart, but right now Yongguk didn't give two shits about the protocol or moral alignment of his feelings.

Sighing on Seokjin’s shoulder, Yongguk knew he had stained his shirt with tears and what not, but he couldn’t let go of the hug. “I missed you so much.”

stigma.

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he still wants to wake him up and ask how could he left him alone like this.left him and took away things he will never get from anyone else. a first love. his heart, broken for the first time. time to move, but there is nowhere to go. he is stuck in one place where others already moving on and get on their own train of life. “i’m okay,” he replies that sound like a murmur, tiredly. he is not okay, he feels like he want nothing but puke. but there is nothing to let out since there is nothing inside him; he hadn’t been eating for days now, it’s feels like his own guts start to chew his inside. “nothing ever turns out as planned, huh?” he continues although this question is more like a talk to himself. he is still alive, how unfortunate. why is it so hard to do it when his sister and his lover do it so easily without anyone notice?

“i’m so sorry for disturbing your night, sir.” he says, attempting to stand but he has no energy left that he falls back down the couch. he winces in pain as his hands now wraps around his own stomach.

Yongguk shifted near the couch, squatting in front of it to check on that boy. Dark circles under his eyes, dried lips, weak voice. Yongguk’s heart wrenched inside his chest.

“What’s your name, kid?” Yongguk asks, making sure that boy is not getting off that couch. He pulls the coffee table with grapes and water closer to them - grapes with no seed are easy to eat, you just have to chew and swallow. “I found you passed out on the streets, you have no ID on you or anything... I couldn’t just leave you there.”  

Yongguks apartment was small, but there’s always extra space for hospitality. He wishes he had someone to help him and give a hand back then when he was alone and feeling like utter shit. 

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“ you? nervous? I thought you’d have more experience in this… practice. ah, regardless of that, we both enjoyed ourselves. ” his own phrasing was stilted && unnatural. not for the first time, yoongi wished that he would be able to express himself better. a playful smile as he got up to go to the shower, holding the elder’s hand. even though he ached, the flush was rather pleasant. his skin too FLUSHES upon yongguk’s gentle touches. “ as long as you rub my hair dry afterwards.” sliding his feet into the hotel slippers, yoongi padded his way into the bathroom.

The shower took two times longer because Yongguk insisted on washing Yoongi himself, from gently scrubbing his body with body wash to lathering his scalp with fruity shampoo and conditioner. Yongguk spoiled Yoongi massaging the rope marks on his body and fingering the lube out of him, kissing his reddened knees and the flat of his stomach, just below his bellybutton. He’d explain to Yoongi that even though he’s had some experience, he always feels nervous doing it - meeting new people is hard.

Out of the shower they turned into two fluffy white robe-marshmallows while Yongguk dried Yoongi’s hair with the blowdryer, having him seated on the sink countertop.

“Kitty likes when I play with your hair?” He wasn’t using any comb or brush, just his fingers guiding the dark strands careful not to direct the hot air right on Yoongi’s face. Yongguk just can’t resist and pecks Yoongi’s lips again. “You look really cute now.” 

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still day seven: he wakes up in an unknown place. it’s small, just like his share house. it has a strange smell of someone he doesn’t know, but he guess that every place have their own kind of smell; he is just not used to this one, yet. his body is aching all over, he feels an uncomfortable pain of hunger in him–how many days he hasn’t been eating anything? no, why is he even here in the first place? where is he? rubbing his face dry, trying to gather all sense left within him. his eyes begin to marvels the place all over, finding a few conclusion: he is in a couch that belongs to someone he doesn’t know, he is not in a place he is familiar with, he feels so hungry he might want to puke right now, where the fuck is he? what happened?

“ugh,” he whines, rubbing his face once again. something, something might have happened — ah why is he still alive?

The bigger question might be: do things happen on purpose, or is coincidence real? 

It was the middle of the night, only a few cars crossing Yanghwa bridge in that stuffy summer night air, and even so, it had been raining the past few nights, strangely. That night Yongguk didn’t come back home by subway like he usually does, after spending the whole day working on a curved back, reading, cleaning the studio, rearranging the glass displays, he gave himself the permission to go home comfortably on the back seat of an Uber instead of squished inside the subway. 

Was it a coincidence that Yongguk had back pains and called for an Uber? Was it a coincidence that the had to take the Yanghwa bridge because the other exists was closed? Was it a coincidence that he looked out the window just in time to see that boy faint? — Or do things happen for a reason?

The first time Yongguk tried to save someone his life changed forever; arguably, it changed for the worst. It’s something he can’t change now. Most days he wonders if he would have done the same thing, given a second chance - would he do the right thing again, or would he chose to have a normal life? 

Ironic, that he’s seeing that second chance through the window of the car. A young boy, dirty, weak, passed out. Would he do it again, risk fucking up his life again for someone he doesn’t even know, just like in high school?

The answer was slowly waking up on his couch now, as Yongguk was sitting by his small wooden dinner table, searching easy-to-make nutritional soup recipes on his phone. When he hears the boy grumbling and moving, Yongguk sits up with caution. “Hey. Hey, are you okay?” - if anything, the least he could do was leave a glass of water and grapes near the couch, on top of the coffee table. 

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It was something that never ever happened to Aya before. She felt a huge urge to throw him off the room without any clothings, completely the way he was born. Luckily Aya was focusing on putting her clothes meanwhile.

Hearing his sorry words made Aya laugh and sit beside him fully dressed. 「 Of course not! Others times were pretty good though. Perhaps, the previous times you toke… Oh lord! 」 She said in a funny way, face-palming herself. Not really trying to make the mood better, but if Aya couldn’t have fun this way, so she would need to find others ways to get that. 「 Should I pretend that I’m a psychological doctor, a nurse or something? 」 She asked in a sassy way, crossing her legs.

Feeling like you’re being made fun of in a situation like that is not the best medicine. Imagine you were requested by your dick and amazing pull-out game and you can’t get hard. Must be the worse nightmare of anyone with a dick.

While Aya laughed at him and cracked jokes at the expense of his softness, Yongguk just stayed there, impotent in the literal sense of the word, covered by the motel-white sheets, staring at the ceiling. His body could be craving sex for days now, but if his head decided to get in the way on the last minute - and why not? - then the self sabotage was hard to reverse.

He laughed despite himself, but it wasn’t out of humor. She was the only one having fun there, apparently. “Wanna play doctor now?”  

〃凸(¬‿¬)〃

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He put his cap back on, “You might want to sleep more, lay off the alcohol, and drink water. Your wrinkles should go away then.”

Yongguk chuckles to his sketchbook, eyes going back and forth between the subject he was drawing and the traces on the paper. In his humble opinion his jokes are just a matter of acquired taste, they are no for everybody, but lame is a strong word. 

One of the things that haunts Yongguk more than anything is that he can never forget Cheongnam. He would give anything to wipe the memories off that place from his mind, but the more he tries to forget about it the more vivid the memories turn, he has his nightmares to prove. And with it, he remembers the people too, students that ignored him and the feeling was comfortably mutual.  

“I like my wrinkles,” he concludes, looking at Minseok from the side. “Means I made it this far.” 

Got 1 - Minseok and Yongguk

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💘

- what personality traits are attractive to you?

As I said, I don’t think about this too much, personality and appearance wise. I think people are different and you will eventually find other people that just click with what and who you are. 

That said, I guess… I get along better with funny, easy going people. Someone I feel like I can talk freely doesn’t matter if it’s a sunbae or not. When I feel too much pressure I tend to be quieter.

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💌

- what makes your heart melt?

Okay I’m a sap for piano. I don’t know what it is about it that makes me emotional sometimes… I played the piano when I was younger, I think I’m not as good as I used to be, but I still hold the memories close to my heart. 

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🌈

- what’s your orientation and gender?

After properly looking into it turns out I’m a pansexual gray-romantic cismale, god damn.

- what personality traits are attractive to you?

That’s right here.

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// BUT I KNOW I’M ON A LOSING STREAK

‘Cause I passed down my old street and if you wanna show, then just let me know - and I’ll sing in your ear again. Now the drugs don’t work, they just make you worse.

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The lights weren’t helping his vision, but he could give a good look on the older’s face. There he was, not so different than what he remembered, but also not quite the same. Perhaps it’s just the strong alcohol smell coming from him confusing the other senses of the younger male. It was too soon to say something for sure, but his heart felt uneasy, as if he just found someone with the same amount of pain inside his chest.

“Hey, it’s Seokjin. It’s really me, not a ghost or anything,” he said firmly, trying to get some reaction from him. “Get up, hyung. Let’s talk.”

Getting up took more effort than it should and Yongguk couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. His legs and brain weren’t connected anymore, or anything else for that matter. In the back of his mind, he hoped he was hallucinating - it would make everything so much easier than the truth. 

The truth that Seokjin is really there, in front of him. 

When he finally stood up, the expression on his face was a mixture of foggy-drunk haziness and confusion. He reached to touch Seokjin’s face, and he had to reach a little higher this time; his once small and skinny friend grew up. “You’re... Tall.” 

stigma.

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“Oh, my…” Attempting to steady his breathing, he hastily wipes away a tear before it rolls down his rosy cheek. “I’ve never thought it was this funny,” soon admitting, it’s probably the situation’s wacky crux that created the unexpected farce. Drawing on the cigarette, he gives the piercer a nudge. “It’s almost like repeating your name until it sounds bizarre. You ever do it?”

Yongguk laughed so hard he cried, wiping the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie while trying to force his lungs into rebooting, working properly. They were crying while laughing and smoking twins.

But he does so, very softly, almost whispering. Repeating his name over and over again, the wide smile spreading like fire. Yoonguk is all teeth and squinting eyes. 

“Starts to sound like a cartoon noise.” He looks up at Jiyong, squinting a bit more. “Are we accidentally high?”