Chapter Text
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
With deep-sea diver sounds
And the flowers bloom like madness in the spring'aqua lung' jethro tull
Seungyoun can feel Seungwoo’s warm breath as it casually fanned the side of his face. They stared at the ceiling, backs against Seungyoun’s soft mattress.
It is hot, it is so incredibly hot. Seungyoun’s skin was chocolate melting into a pot of honey. He inhaled, his breathing unsteady. Seungwoo’s paradoxically warm palm languidly ran over Seungyoun’s thigh like it was meant to be there. “You smell so nice.” Seungwoo whispered and inched even closer. “So nice, like sugar.” Seungyoun didn’t move; he is afraid that one careless shift would cause him to disintegrate. “Why do you smell so nice?” Seungwoo sounded like he’s drunk, though Seungyoun was perfectly aware of how sober they both were.
“Seungwoo,” The bassist’s name sounded like a prayer as it left Seungyoun’s tongue. The room was hazy. Seungyoun was deaf and blind to his own surroundings. He was lost in Seungwoo’s pine forest and frozen in Seungwoo’s perpetual icy winter. “Please.” Seungwoo eyes flicked open and Seungyoun could almost swear that he could see the green in Seungwoo’s irises. Seungwoo stared at him. Seungyoun wanted to melt. Every cell, every molecule, every fucking atom in his body bended to Seungwoo’s whims like he’s a pathetic marionette dangling on strings.
He held his breath and no word left his lips.
“What do you want Youn?”
Seungyoun hated that question. He hated how Seungwoo knew exactly what Seungyoun wanted and he still bloody fucking asked.
“Nothing.” Seungyoun said. “Why do you ask? Why does it matter? Do you ask Jinhyuk when he wants to bend you over and fuck you? Do you ask? Why does it always matter when you know how I am when it’s you.”
Seungwoo said nothing. The room suddenly came into focus. Seungyoun didn’t want to be touched, he felt like he’s going to explode.
“Seungyoun I —“
“I know.” Seungyoun cut him off and left the bed. “You don’t have to explain. You can stay in if you like. I’m gonna go cool my head off.”
♬♬♬
“Fuck!” Jinhyuk bellowed, his scream reverberated across the cemented walls of the Annex. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” His custom Fender shattered across the floor. Everyone held their breath.
“Jinhyuk.” Seungwoo’s tone was heavy with an underlying threat. “What in the bloody fuck is your problem?” His scent was strong — a blizzard. But Jinhyuk’s scent, the sea and a raging storm, was stronger. Untampered without a trace of alcohol in his bloodstream. Seungyoun began to quiver. No one noticed.
“You know what my problem is?” Jinhyuk seethed, “I can’t do anything right. I can’t write, I can’t fucking play. I hear screaming in my ears all the fucking time. That’s my fucking problem Seungwoo.”
Seungyoun began to see it here — the cracks in their armor, the beginning of their downfall. Jinhyuk was their pillar and for the second time, Jinhyuk began to crumble right in front of their eyes.
But this time, Seungyoun did not see a remedy. He heard Jinhyuk took a sharp inhale. His scent washed over them and it wasn’t as overwhelming. The guitarist choked and three seconds later their were silent tears on his otherwise impassive face.
“I’m tired,” Jinhyuk began and his fingers tore at his short, jet black hair. “I’m so fucking tired of hearing my work. Have I been this fucking terrible from the start?”
Eve didn’t know what to tell him. Frankly, it was odd. The guitarist couldn’t seem to hear anything else but the wrongs in his craft and he wouldn’t listen to anyone. They all knew this because they’ve tried. Jinhyuk reacted in the defensive and he acted as if they were all patronizing him, like he was some errant child. They gave up.
Seungyoun wanted to hate Wooseok. It all started with him. Jinhyuk met him and suddenly, he didn’t want to live the toxic rockstar life anymore. Wooseok changed something in Jinhyuk and Seungyoun wasn’t entirely sure if the change had been for the better.
But maybe, it really didn’t matter anymore. They could blame their downfall on Jinhyuk’s issues but they all knew they were simply waiting for their end.
After ten years, Eve reached the end of their glorious car crash journey. Seungyoun can’t fully say if it was all worth it.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Seungwoo took a sharp inhale, “When are we holding that press conference?”
It has been a long time coming.
♬♬♬
“What is this?”
Yohan didn’t want anyone to find out, especially not Hangyul. Anyone else but Hangyul. He lunged for the paper on Hangyul’s hands and inwardly cursed. Fuck, he should have just burned it.
(But Yohan wanted anyone, someone to know. The thought constantly clawed at him as he restlessly waited for another dawn to signal that he was still going to live yet another day.)
The band disintegrated. He was dying and nobody knew. Jinhyuk was in rehab. Seungyoun and Seungwoo chose to lay low after their hiatus and Yohan belatedly realized that after all these years, there was truly only one person who was constant in his life.
He packed his bags after the doctor gave him a death sentence. He ran away. Yohan did't think when he booked a jet and found himself in the beauty of New Zealand. He thought it was crude to want to die in a place so pristine.
Of course Hangyul wanted to be there. Yohan didn't have the heart to tell him no.
The paper tore in two, the other piece lodged in between Hangyul’s steel grip.
“Yohan, what the fuck was that?”
His voice sounded like he’d scratched his throat completely raw. He sounded like he was bleeding.
The room was suddenly in full bloom.
Hangyul grabbed Yohan by the latter’s bicep and dragged him forward. He repeated the question. Yohan could choke in his own scent. No wonder he reeked of roses — he was a funeral waiting to happen.
“It’s from the doctor.” Yohan evenly said. “I have a tumor in my throat.”
Hangyul’s expression morphed into that of a wounded animal. There were tears because Hangyul rarely processed his emotions and when he did, it was always the tears. Yohan knew this even from the beginning. He remembered when they weren’t whatever they were now, when they were intact instead of broken pieces. Hangyul often revealed his thoughts to Yohan. He would tell him that there were times that he missed life. Yohan knew what he meant because Yohan missed life too. Hangyul would cry and he would laugh at himself. Yohan didn’t say anything and he would let Hangyul feel whatever he needed to feel.
And then they skyrocketed to fame and then they all fell like comets grazing the sky in ephemeral, glorious moments. Hangyul never cried again — until now. Yohan felt his nails cut through the palms of his hands. “I’m a dead man walking, Gyul.”
Hangyul’s face displayed such raw expression of horror, Yohan thought he was already dead. He still breathed but Hangyul already mourned him. In retrospect, maybe he died a long time ago.
“For how long?” The guitarist whispered. “For how long have you kept this to yourself?”
“For as long as I could.” Yohan answered. Hangyul’s grip tightened around Yohan’s bicep, “None of you were supposed to know. You shouldn’t have been looking through my things.” You shouldn’t have known.
“How fucking dare you.” Hangyul seethed. “How could you do this?”
“So what Gyul?” Yohan broke away, “All that’s ever important to my life is Eve, you know that. Did you honestly think I was gonna let them remove my voice in exchange for my life? I’d rather fucking die, Hangyul. I’d choose death any day.”
Hangyul choked through his tears, “No.” His entire body shook. “No please, Yohan.”
He cried and cried until he was incoherent, until all Yohan could ever discern was his name and “Please, no, no, no.”
“I’m sorry Gyul.”
“No, no, no.”
And there was one thing he wanted to tell Hangyul but he couldn’t find the appropriate words. Because I love you just didn’t seem enough, because they seemed hollow.
What good are the proclamations of a dead man, anyway?
♬♬♬
His bed was ice cold though he was sure he’d been lying on this same bed for nearly a full day. He stared at the ceiling and noted its gray color and his full body reflected against the mirror he had installed there. It was his vanity that made him put it there. It was tasteless and downright gaudy, he’d now realized.
Jinhyuk didn’t miss the taste of alcohol. Liquor didn’t have taste no matter how expensive it was, it was just amber liquid that burned his throat and blocked out everything else. Jinhyuk wanted to feel numb, he wanted the feel of cotton in his mouth and the calming emptiness of inebriation.
Among the five of them, Jinhyuk lived the quintessential rockstar life - a stereotypical epitome of the debauchery that came with a successful music career. He filled tabloids faster than he could fill records. He filled his bed with people and drank so much alcohol he couldn’t fully remember the last time he was sober.
He crumpled the paper in his hands, the nail of his thumb had dug through the center of the document that it had a hole in the middle where a recommendation for his therapy indicated just how severe his alcoholism actually was. Jinhyuk didn’t need a doctor to tell him what the problem was.
hey, please just call me?
You told me you needed to breathe but it’s been three weeks now and I’m worried.
Jinhyuk, talk to me. Please?
Jinhyuk didn’t know what to tell Wooseok. The mogul’s son wasn’t part of Jinhyuk’s plans. Becoming biologically and chemically involved with Wooseok was one big fuck you from the universe to Jinhyuk.
He stared at the ceiling, and he so badly wished that it would collapse on him. Maybe that was the only apt solution to the entirety of his problems.
He could kid himself when the chemical pull was so strong and its effects were like the finest cocaine money can buy. But now that his head was clearer than a fine June day, Jinhyuk could pinpoint that underneath all the confusion and attraction, there was fear. Jinhyuk was aware of the million and one things he could do to fuck it all up and the damage he would leave behind was bound to be devastating and it wouldn’t even be for him — he’d done nothing but fuck himself up a long, long time ago and there was nothing he could do to further destroy what has already been pulverized.
It was a different arena now that Wooseok was involved.
And Jinhyuk was so, so afraid.
He wondered how it was for Seungwoo. The bassist had his biology reined in so tightly he found no qualms when an alpha fucked him six way to Sunday. Jinhyuk wondered what it was like when Seungyoun was there with the sugary scent that perpetually clung to him.
“Fuckin’ lunatic.” Jinhyuk murmured to no one. “The fuck got him like that.”
There was another voice message.
Jinhyuk Lee, I’m in the concierge. Would it be so kind of you to give me a minute?
Jinhyuk blinked. He picked up the call.
“What are you doing here?”
Wooseok sounded quite calm when he spoke. “Can we talk?”
“I d-don’t think that’s—“
“Please?”
♬♬♬
Wooseok asked him, ‘Are you alright?’ the moment they were alone and before Jinhyuk could deign him with a proper answer, he had looked embarrassed and cancelled the question with a small shake of his head.
Now they were here, Jinhyuk wanted to offer a drink but his preinstalled bar contained absolutely nothing and his fridge was the same except for bottled water. Jinhyuk belatedly surveyed the mess that his flat was in. He was ashamed.
“I’m sorry.” He began as he swept the black, leather couch free from clothes and unidentifiable debris. “My place is completely inhospitable. Do you want anything? I only got water.”
Wooseok stared at him and Jinhyuk’s legs shook from his scent. He carried citruline and lavender and spring. It was all too much and Jinhyuk wanted so badly to have even more.
“What happened?”
“Fame.” Jinhyuk dialed for food service. “We burned out and Hangyul was sick of it all. I’m sick of it all.”
The clamor of the press had been unbearable. The band didn’t know what would come next. They were still bounded by a contract, and they would still release another record and that was it. Eve faced a gaping uncertainty. Jinhyuk didn’t even know what the rest of his band was up to.
“And I couldn’t be their pillar.” Jinhyuk said, “frankly, I’m not even sure what happened to us, either.”
Wooseok stared at him, his expression was impassive. “I know what happened to Eve, I’ve seen it happen so many times. I didn’t mean your band, I meant you. What happened to you, Jinhyuk?”
Jinhyuk’s legs were gelatin. He sat on the floor and put his face on his hands. He looked a like a child. He was a hundred and eighty-five centimeters and he looked small on the floor. He took a shaky breath. “My existence has been nothing.” He began, “I stopped drinking and I couldn’t hear my music. I couldn’t hear anything. All there is, is noise and it rings in my ear, endlessly.”
Wooseok was quiet. He stared at Jinhyuk with eyes that reminded Jinhyuk of his own scent, of the deep, impenetrable unknown that was the ocean.
“Let’s get outta here.” He said.
Jinhyuk managed to find his voice, “And where are we going?”
“I don’t know.” Wooseok stood up just as the door rang. He opened it and he could hear Wooseok thank the petite man that delivered the food Jinhyuk had ordered.
“Seok,” Jinhyuk sighed, “You really don’t wanna be seen with me right now. You shouldn’t even be involved with me right now. I’m in a bad place.” Jinhyuk paused then smiled sordidly to himself, “No, I’m in the worst place I could possibly be in and I’m not sure if I can even fix me right now.”
Wooseok popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. Jinhyuk noticed the thin sheen on his lips. He was really beautiful, even doing the most mundane thing.
“So?”
“So you need to leave.”
“It’s painful.”
“What is?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Jinhyuk knew, oh he knew. The ever present craving that felt like a burn on his skin — he needed to be close and be far away at the same time. It was peculiar.
“Are you sure?” He asked. He was still on the floor, couldn’t seem to conjure enough energy to stand up. Wooseok eyed him. “I can’t shelter you from whatever consequences stem if you’re seen with me.”
“I don’t need any protection.” Wooseok smirked, “I’m not a child.”
“Wooseok you don’t—“
“No, I do understand. I understand completely. You need to be away. You have to breathe and think and you cannot do both in a place like this.”
“Alright,” Jinhyuk stood up, “You wanna disappear? Let’s do it.”
♬♬♬
Seungwoo didn’t leave and Seungyoun began to think it was because Seungwoo truly wanted to see him suffer. Seungyoun’s bed smelled of alcohol and an odd mix of his and Seungwoo’s perfume, and pine and winter. It was hot and ice cold at the same time.
They were in Seungyoun’s downtown apartment. It was a thousand square foot, open floor brownstone with the only furniture being matching neutral colored couches that blended with the walls and tall wooden shelves stacked with music albums and books. Seungyoun’s bedroom was glass walled into a far corner. They were in that same room. Seungyoun rose. He could feel Seungwoo’s eyes on him.
They always fell back to this — whatever this is. Seungyoun just didn’t want to define the current thing he had with Seungwoo because he’s had enough of breaking his own heart. He’d pretend until it was too much, until he would spill over, until he was broken beyond all repair. From the bystanders’ point of view, none of these was worth it but Seungyoun was ready to give it all up in exchange for a speck of what Seungwoo could offer.
He really just didn’t care anymore. The band fell apart like the last ten years didn’t mean anything to them. Jinhyuk was busy sorting his shit out — Seungyoun was proud of him for that. Though there was this hidden resentment. All it took was for pretty Wooseok to bat his eyelashes and Jinhyuk tripped all over himself, he suddenly thought he had to quit alcohol. Frankly, some part of Seungyoun hated Jinhyuk for it. All their years together — they were fucking family, well at least to Seungyoun they were — and none of their words mattered. And now Eve was nearly gone.
Yohan and Hangyul fell off everyone’s radar. They were in Germany and then they were just out. Even Seungwoo didn’t know where they were. It was all a fucking sham. It took a lot of denial, but god, was it all a big fucking sham.
Seungyoun remembered the lights, the flashes of cameras, the unceasing chatter of voices that folded over each other in one noisy clamor. Seungyoun didn’t catch anything. He had heard Jinhyuk’s voice among the crowd but he hadn’t understood what their leader had said. Something about their hiatus, something about the uncertainties that plagued their future, something about being family and always making music together.
He had smiled, and he had felt Seungwoo’s paradoxically warm palm on his thigh. They always sat next to each other in press conferences. Seungyoun had felt the bassist’s fingers which had slightly dug against his covered flesh.
It was a reminder. But it was just that.
And now Seungyoun humored himself with Seungwoo because the only family he’s ever had was now fast becoming a memory. He didn’t want to deal with it, he would lay in bed for days on end. He basked in the emptiness of his house and the mind numbing quiet. It was hard to get used to it, maybe he didn’t even get used to it. Like all else, he pretended — Seungyoun was good at it. Maybe he would keep on pretending.
“Why are you always here?”
He watched the ashes falling off of Seungwoo’s half charred cigarette and his eyes followed what he could see down a few floors. They stood on the veranda, Seungwoo’s naked back against the railing. The sunset was beautiful from its reflection against the opaque glass wall of Seungyoun’s bedroom.
“Why? You don’t want my company anymore?”
Seungwoo smiled. His jet black hair was longer and he wore it gathered away from his face. Seungyoun thought it was fascinating and he sometimes wanted to rake his fingers across Seungwoo’s scalp. He wondered what it would feel like.
“Who said I wanted company in the first place?”
The bassist shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want some fucking normalcy and everyone’s gone. I don’t even know where on God’s green earth Jinhyuk is, or everyone else for that matter. Frankly, you’re the only normal that’s left. You’re here and I’m here and I feel stability. With you, I don’t think about crashing and burning, it’s just calm. I need calm.”
Seungyoun was silent for a long minute.
“Got a question.”
“Yeah?”
Inhale. Exhale. Ash.
“Do you think we’ll be fine?”
“Eve?”
Seungyoun shook his head, “Never mind.”
“I don’t know.” Seungwoo finished his cigarette and tossed the filter towards the floor. “You’ve known them longer. What do you think?”
“I’ve known them longer but I don’t have the answer to my question. I don’t know. I didn’t even think this was possible but here we are. I didn’t even expect it was gonna be you. Out of all people, but not you.”
“You wound me.” Seungwoo chuckled. In the last minute he managed to procure another cigarette. “Why didn’t you expect me? We were making music in the same band. I was here for the last six years. You don’t think that counts?”
“I don’t mean that. It’s just — you’re different.”
“Why?”
Seungyoun wanted to say the truth. Seungwoo simply wasn’t just different. They were closer than family, Seungwoo shared the same bond they had with Minsoo — more than what Minsoo ever held. He became part of their band, he was an integral part of their sound.
But he was different because Seungyoun, at this point, was practically in love with him. It was madness. It was worse than any unfortunate situation he could find himself in. At some point, he simply stopped trying to fight it.
And now they were here.
Seungwoo raised a brow, smirking. “Why? Are we not close enough?”
“No. Fuck it, just forget about what I said.”
“Alright.” Seungwoo finished the cigarette and as he leaned back against the railing, Seungyoun noted the expression on his face. “It gave me an idea.”
“For what?”
“If we don’t get back together in the next year, do you wanna release a record with me?”
“Just us?”
“Yeah, or you could get your beau in to produce for us.”
“Beau?” Seungyoun eyed him.
“Yibo?”
“You mean my friend?”
Seungwoo laughed, “Yeah, him. Whatever.”
“And what sound will we make? We can’t exactly sing alternative with just the two of us.”
“I don’t know. Acoustic?”
“Are you fucking insane?”
“Maybe. When the times comes who’ll give a fuck? We’ve been gone for so long, some fancy new band is gonna make its debut and wow the crowd that used to adore us. We’ll be old news, might as well try something new.”
“It’s the ultimate scandal.”
“Oh, don’t we love our scandals.”
“Wait, are you actually serious?”
“What made you think I wasn’t?”
Seungyoun chuckled, “Alright then.”
“It’s a promise.”
“You don’t think we’re getting back together do you?”
“Frankly, I don’t.” Once again, Seungyoun thought that Seungwoo continued to hide beneath his thick shroud of secrecy. There was still something incredibly ambiguous about him despite the last few years of being with Eve. Seungyoun fantasized of some distant future where Seungwoo didn’t hide anymore and Seungyoun would be privy to whatever little thought Seungwoo concealed.
It was an impossibility.
“It was good while it lasted.” Seungwoo said, “The success, the parties, the drugs, the music - god the music was the best fucking part of it all. It was good Youn. Never regretted one goddamn thing. But it had to end. It always has to end. Something’s gotta give and fuck, we just didn’t give, we fucking succumbed. This fucking rockstar lifestyle has made monsters out of us.”
“You seem to have adjusted just fine.” Seungyoun mused, a sarcastic grin decorated his thin lips. “Seems like you were made for this, all you had to do was walk on a path you paved for yourself.”
“I pretend.” Seungwoo said as he moved his gaze and directed it towards Seungyoun. He stared. Seungyoun thought his legs were copper melting by its boiling point. He probably reeked. “I pretend because it’s the only thing I do to cope. I have a fuckton of issues, if that’s what you wanna know and trust me, I didn’t adjust. I never learned how.”
Seungyoun didn’t say a single word for a long minute. He stood there and volleyed Seungwoo’s gaze. “I could never read you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did I ever tell you what your scent was?” Seungyoun asked.
“You didn’t, though Jinhyuk told me I smelled like winter. Never really got him to elaborate.”
“He’s right. You smell like a pine forest. You’re cold, distant and, closed off. You’re like a fucking blizzard.”
Seungwoo laughed.
“And yet, I still wanna know. Fuck Seungwoo, I wanna know everything. I wanna know what makes you tick. I wanna know what changes your scent. I wanna know what drives you mad, I wanna know what turns you on, I wanna know every fucking thing and it kills me that I can’t.”
Seungwoo moved to pick another cigarette from his nearly finished pack. He brought it to his lips and lit. In the last few seconds, the air shifted around them, got just a little more frigid. Seungyoun knew the exact reason why, he just didn’t like to say it out loud.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
Seungwoo took a long drag, “It’s alright. Why’d you wanna know so much? What’s there to know?”
“I don’t even need to answer that.”
“Seungyoun, you don’t want to get too close. I can’t be good for you, I know. I tried. Nothing good comes out of loving me. I’m sorry.”
Seungyoun wanted to scream. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw and his lungs would feel like on the brink of collapse. He wanted to ball his fist and plant it right onto Seungwoo’s unblemished, alabaster face.
He fucking hated Seungwoo. He hated how much he loved Seungwoo Han.
You don’t love me? Well, fuck you! You never loved me but you were the only thing that’s ever constant. You don’t love me but you don’t want to be away. You don’t love me but you keep on fucking with my mind with these fucking games. You don’t love me but your actions say otherwise.
Yes, maybe you never loved me. It would have never been this easy for you to crush me if you did.
“Thick of you to say that.” Seungyoun scoffed, “Who the fuck told you I was in love with you? Maybe I just wanted you to finally fuck me.”
Seungyoun noticed. It felt like he was hit with a strong gust of icy wind.
“You want to?”
“Sure hell, I do.” He’s going to regret this, but what even was the point?
Seungyoun didn’t wait long. Seungwoo acted on his words like a promise. He tossed his finished cigarette off the railing before he breathed against Seungyoun’s lips. Seungyoun’s back met the wall then they staggered back into Seungyoun’s apartment. Seungwoo pushed Seungyoun towards the floor, his hands tore at Seungyoun’s clothes, his lips hot against Seungyoun’s skin.
Seungyoun felt like coming apart, he was drowning and gasping for air at the same time.
Seungwoo’s teeth grazed Seungyoun’s left shoulder, his fingers tight around Seungyoun’s right bicep. Seungwoo held Seungyoun down and stared, his chest heaving.
“Do you want this?”
Seungyoun dragged him down and slotted his tongue past Seungwoo’s lips. He grabbed Seungwoo’s hair and pulled at the elastic that held it together.
“For a very, very long time.”
And Seungyoun couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t think when Seungwoo freed him of his pants, he didn’t think when Seungwoo flipped him so that he was on his hands and knees, he didn’t think when Seungwoo had fucked into him, right there in the center of his living room, on the floor. Seungwoo still smelled cold but his skin was a furnace.
Seungyoun didn’t think. Seungyoun couldn’t think. There was pain and then there was something akin to a stab, then pleasure. Nothing else but heat, pleasure, love, love, love.
The fucking was downright animalistic — pure biologies. It was apparent their consciousness were in a different plane. Seungyoun could feel every square inch of his skin burn and something in him surrendered. He had never allowed himself to be consumed by his want, but with Seungwoo, it was an entirely different thing. In hindsight, it was plain old fucking, but it was also Seungyoun cutting himself and pouring everything out in the open. Seungwoo could smell the want but he could also tell that underneath the haze of pleasure, molasses, that sickening sugar, was love.
Seungyoun loved him — fuck, he loved him.
♬♬♬
“You fucked him.”
Seungyoun shrugged, “He fucked me.”
They were in the Annex. Yibo stood in front of the studio controls, tinkering as Seungyoun played an offbeat rhythm on his old cymbals. The place seemed old, it was clear none of the members were in it since their disbandment even though the place was immaculately clean.
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Good.” Seungyoun answered, he found himself transitioning into one of their mega hit songs, the first of a handful of Seungwoo’s mega hit songs. He could hear Yohan’s voice, he could hear Jinhyuk, Hangyul, and Seungwoo. His arms moved by muscle memory. “Mind numbingly good. Because what more else can an alpha’s cock make me feel other than mind numbing pleasure?”
Yibo stopped tinkering, he crossed the room, entered the recording booth and squatted in front of Seungyoun, “You should just tell me. I’m here to judge you, fully.”
Seungyoun’s left eyebrow shot up and he started to laugh. “And what do you wanna hear from me? That I regretted it?”
Yibo gave him a flat stare. “Don’t give me that bullshit. We both know you fucked up.”
“Jesus Christ,” Seungyoun stood up and threw his worn drumsticks across the wall. The pieces of wood fell to the floor and somehow, the sound was ear shattering. “Yes Yibo, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. What, do you wanna know how I bent over and fucking presented myself like some offering? Do you wanna know how much I loathed the way how good it made me feel? Do you wanna know that I love him? is that it Yibo?!”
Yibo was quiet. In the aftermath of his rage, Seungyoun finally noticed the subtle change of Yibo’s mint - it was not that big of a change but it was enough to pull Seungyoun back to Earth.
“I’m sorry.” Seungyoun took a short inhale and raked his fingers through his messy hair. “I didn’t mean to lash. I’m sorry, Yibo.”
“It’s alright,” Yibo began, “I overstepped my boundaries.”
He was all cool mint, but Seungyoun could tell that he had hit a nerve. “Sorry,” he repeated and beckoned Yibo over. The drum tech stepped closer and Seungyoun wrapped his arms around him. Yibo exhaled against the side of Seungyoun’s neck. They stood there for a long minute, in silent comfort of each other and this is where Seungwoo so casually stepped in. Seungyoun missed the ice cold scent that usually heralded the bassist as he was busy basking in the comforting familiarity of Yibo’s scent.
“Did I interrupt something?” Seungwoo asked, his tone somewhat teasing. “Should I just come back later?”
Yibo slowly stepped away. His arms were still around Seungyoun’s torso. He flatly stared at Seungwoo. “You should.”
The change in Seungwoo’s scent was so sharp it nearly knocked Seungyoun off balance. The expression on the bassist’s face did not change but he couldn’t hide his body’s reaction. They all knew it. The air was thick with Seungwoo’s winter and his anger was ice cold. Seungyoun didn’t understand him.
The drummer cocked an eyebrow and directed his gaze towards the other musician. He belatedly noticed that he and Yibo were still loosely tangled in a comfortable half embrace.
“Are you okay?” He asked Seungwoo though the answer was clear even if Seungwoo decided to not deign him with a proper answer. “I should leave.” and without any other word Seungwoo turned for the exit.
Yibo waited until the alpha was completely out of sight. “So that’s the deal, huh.” He stepped off the embrace. “He was seething in jealousy and he didn’t say a thing. Interesting.”
“He’s not jealous.” Seungyoun mused out loud. He couldn’t help the sordid grin that graced his face. “He’s never jealous. He’s just possessive. Jealous and possessive are two different things. Jealousy means something else. It’s for someone more than just a good fuck.”
“Funny.” Was Yibo’s first comment. “Why the fuck is he so possessive when you’re only a good fuck. He can get anyone he likes, he just needs to choose. What makes you so different?”
Seungyoun didn’t answer. He didn’t know.
♬♬♬
He knew Seungwoo was inside before he even saw him. That was something Seungyoun regretted, giving the keys to his apartment to his own bandmate. It was a good idea first but now that he’s looking back to it, he could have really just given it more thought at first.
“What are you doing here?” Seungyoun asked as Seungwoo was in the process of entering his own house.
“What’s the real deal with you and the drum tech?”
Seungyoun scoffed, “And I don’t understand why that warrants a huge concern. He’s a friend. He mixes most of my music and writes lyrics. I also sleep with him sometimes. Does that answer your question?” He stepped into the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. He could feel Seungwoo at a hair’s breadth behind him as he pulled out a drink.
“Sorry,” Seungwoo began, “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” Seungyoun could sense the other’s unrest. His scent wasn’t as strong. “It’s okay. I could never understand you even from the beginning so your little questions don’t really bother me as much.”
Then he felt it. After a small moment of seemingly relentless quiet, Seungwoo stepped in and his arms were around Seungyoun’s body. Seungyoun could feel the bassist breathe against the back of his neck. After everything they have said and done, this was the worst of it. This — Seungwoo’s arms around Seungyoun’s body — is the fucking worst of it all. He would have cracked every little crevice of his being if he hadn’t already shattered a long, long time ago.
Fuck.
He leaned against the cold, chrome fridge. The drink in his hand dripped condensation onto the cold, cold floor.
Fuck.
“What do you want Seungwoo? What do you fucking want from me?”
“I don’t know.” Seungwoo’s voice was so apathetic, it could have been robotic. “I want to be angry. It’s like I’m coming off of my skin.”
Seungyoun stared at his face on the chrome door of the appliance. He couldn’t make out any expression. Maybe there was none; he didn’t really feel anything.
“Why?”
“I’m seething. I want to punch a hole into your drum tech’s face. I am fucking jealous.”
Seungyoun laughed, ironically, the situation was not laughable.
“And the best part of it? I shouldn’t be. I have no right to be this fucking hostile. That’s why I apologize.”
This was the most confusing of all of Seungwoo’s mysteries. He always contradicted himself for reason’s Seungyoun was still not made aware of. Maybe he will live through the rest of his days oblivious. At some point, he really just could not bring himself to give anymore fucks.
He turned to face Seungwoo. He put the unopened drink, some beer, on the kitchen counter behind Seungwoo and proceeded to back the bassist against the polished granite edge. He kissed him. Seungyoun had kissed Seungwoo so many times, they have been molded against each other’s skin until he could memorize every centimeter of Seungwoo’s body. You see, the sex wasn’t nearly as intimate as kissing. They fucked because, in all honesty, Seungyoun didn’t want to over analyze the fact that Seungwoo treated him differently. He didn’t want to think why. That was his and Jinhyuk’s equalizing constant.
But kissing, in broad daylight with their clothes on, seem so much more intimate than whatever materialized between them when they were both under the spell of their respective addictions. Kissing felt like true intimacy. Kissing was unfamiliar territory.
He swiped his tongue against Seungwoo’s lips and the bassist shivered. His winter wasn’t as strong as the Pine trees in his breath. Seungyoun felt like he was finally coming home.
Home.
What even the fuck is that?
Seungyoun broke apart. He pressed his forehead against Seungwoo's and closed his eyes.
“Do you want to do something outrageous?” He asked. He could feel Seungwoo’s breath hitch.
“And what is that?”
“Let’s record that album.”
“Who’s producing it?”
“We will. I’ll write the lyrics, you write the music. We’ll release it through the internet.”
“And why do you wanna do this, Youn?”
Because after that, I want you out of my life. For good.
“Because we’re all that’s left of the band. And what else should we do? Aren’t we musicians?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Seungyoun didn't want to think about the consequences anymore. Maybe Seungwoo was right, Eve already met its demise and with its death, Seungyoun welcomed the possibility of a new beginning. And Seungwoo? He was going to be a closed chapter in Seungyoun's life. Seungyoun was done.
No more. No more.