say your name
when our tongues are tied
getting shivers all down my spine
we're in bed
we're embedded in my mind

san wooyoung

25.09.17

a few days have passed since wooyoung accidentally revealed himself to san as a part-time alcoholic.

consequently, he's been avoiding him, especially since he remembers (quite vividly) telling san that he loves him. which... is supposed to be a secret.

not even something he's allowed himself to admit to himself. but really, as oscar wilde said, it is no less than a denial of the soul. to regret one's own experiences is to arrest one's own development. to deny one's own experiences it to put a lie into the lips of one's own life. and wooyoung doesn't regret loving san, not really.

but, not dissimilarly to wilde, society will send wooyoung to prison. a societal prison, if you will, if wooyoung admits he'd rather be with someone he's not fated for.

so perhaps that's why wooyoung agrees to go to hongjoong's place. why he doesn't let himself commit. to san. to not loving his soulmate.

and the whole time, since he got here, wooyoung knows what hongjoong wants. where he expects this night to go. his boyfriend is not one for smalltalk, not when his mind is set on something.

there's no questions, no chatting, no intimacy. of course, this is reality. all of wooyoung's other sexual experience derives from san, and that boy is just too good to be true.

he kind of feels like he's experiencing it all from a third perspective, so far removed from himself it's not even happening to him. like someone else is hongjoong's soulmate, someone else is sitting on his bed.

but if this is what it's going to take to stamp out hongjoong's insecurities, to cement their relationship, wooyoung will do it. he doesn't have much choice. that's why another him is doing it, and the real wooyoung is somewhere in the back of his own mind, watching, silently screaming to be let out.

he tries to dissociate less, but when hongjoong's kissing him, it's hard to pretend. to respond.

not when he doesn't feel anything. so his mind drifts, and his imagination replaces hongjoong with san. removed enough to live within a fantasy.

san, who kisses him like no one ever has or will, who's touch burns. who's hands are as gentle as they are rough, hot and firm on his body.

hongjoong's hands are are cold on his skin when he removes wooyoung's shirt, bringing him back to reality for a moment. he shivers, fighting down the nausea. maybe if those hands were on his neck, it'd be better. but he doesn't feel able to communicate what he wants, not even sure if hongjoong will listen.

on the other hand, san understands him. their bodies speak the same language. from everything he's read, from all he knows, san is the one who should really be his soulmate. selfishly, wooyoung lets himself imagine a world in which that's true.

a world in which he can say i love you to san as easily as he breathes, as easily as it is to be with him. in which he belongs to san, where he's all his.

kissing as a concept is fine. hongjoong's not bad, if wooyoung knows anything about how it's meant to be. it's just, the tongue in his mouth feels foreign. an unwelcome invader.

and god, wooyoung really needs to find some way to get hard, to pretend well enough to convince his boyfriend. it's terrible, really, and he finds himself questioning whether or not he's a good person. it makes him feel even sicker, so wooyoung allows his thoughts to drift further.

his imagination conjures up san's voice, full of want and love, breath hot on his neck, his skin. the way san's tongue feels in his mouth, the cool press of his piercing. how he tastes, tart saltiness magic to wooyoung's tastebuds.

yeah, that has his cock perking up a little. every thought of san increases the feverency with which he reciprocates, and hongjoong's lapping up the encouragement.

"hng- san," he breathes around a half moan, the syllable halfway out of his mouth, just barely. he's delirious, somewhere halfway between present functioning wooyoung and the him locked away.

hongjoong freezes, his kissing ceasing. hardly registering the change, wooyoung leans back in, desperate for a million things he can't have. for this to be over, for it to be a dream, for it to be real but with san.

his mind is scrambled, but it soon snaps awake. because it is not a pair of lips that meet his, but a hand; hongjoong strikes him across the face, the sound echoing in the room, ringing in his ears.

wait. wait, what?

the sting immediately comes, burning firmly. surprised, wooyoung steps back, holding his cheek tenderly and looking ahead blindly, confused. absolved by darkness, he's even more lost.

he flinches when he hears movement, unsure of whether he's about to be met with another slap. recoiling into himself, wooyoung's met with a hundred epiphanies. a thousand ohs.

instead, hongjoong barks a mean laugh. "you fucking whore," he seethes disbelievingly, and wooyoung's stomach drops when the words click.

when he realizes what he's done, who's name came out of his mouth. okay, that's my fault. "i'm just not good enough for you, huh? get off your fucking pedestal, wooyoung. you're lucky anyone wants you." the words hurt more than hongjoong's hand, and his throat catches.

stumbling around like an idiot, wooyoung searches around for his shirt, mind racing. he needs out.

"i- i need to go." he mumbles, tears forming. his cheek burns. it's all he can manage, barely coherent, muffled.

what did he have with hongjoong, anyway? what was there between them, besides a prewritten promise he just can't commit to?

other than an expectation dictated by an invisible force wooyoung's born to adhere to?

fuck, wooyoung's been an idiot. and it took a literal slap in the face for him to figure it out. ironically, for him to see.

"no," hongjoong starts, voice faltering. "you cant."

the slap echoes, replaying in his mind. don't i deserve this? "i'm sorry," he tries, and he means it, for a thousand different things, for everything.

frantic, his shirt is no where to be found. wooyoung is prepared to leave here topless, if it'll get him away from hongjoong, out of this room.

"no." hongjoong repeats as wooyoung moves towards the door. "where will you go? you're blind. you're alone. i'm the only one you have. stay. you have to." he's rambling desperately, and wooyoung's brain is short-circuiting. "we're soulmates."

wooyoung is shaking his head, sure tears are falling. san has always been right. if this is the reality of soulmates, he's not having it.

"i need to go," he tries, unconvincingly. "this needs to stop."

"wooyoung." hongjoong pleads, but he manages to grab his jacket from where he left it on the door, flinging it open and running outside.

and of course, of course it's fucking raining, pouring down heavy needles of water, coming down like javelins. shaking, wooyoung's frankly terrified, feeling stupid as he tries to shrug on the rumpled jacket, blinking the rain from his eyes. the words "easy" and "whore" ring in his mind like a broken record.

the door creaks, hongjoong likely following. he walks in the opposite direction to the sound, no idea where he is, discombobulated.

"where are you going?" he ignores him. "you're being immature, youngie. you can't go anywhere."

he can't seem to find his words. "just- just give me time. we need- a break." he splutters, choking on the words.

what he really wants is to scream something along the lines of fuck you, but wooyoung can't help be a little scared of antagonizing him. he doesn't really want another slap to the face. or another push down the stairs, come to think of it. wait, so he pushed me? it makes more sense now, gears clicking into place. there's no way he fell.

"soulmates don't take breaks." hongjoong's saying, and wooyoung feels icky all over.

"then i wanna break up." he retaliates, braver. "i can't do this anymore."

"i love you." he shouts, as if that changes anything. by the distance of his voice, wooyoung doesn't think the man is willing to come out in the rain.

it's like hongjoong's been holding a full deck of cards all this time, and just now he's running out, trying to play his last ones.

wooyoung's not sure love is meant to feel like this. if you're meant to hurt the people you love. but then again.

"i said i love you. fucking- come back here!"

no thank you. he picks up the pace, trying to get away. it's not long before a wall greets him, causing him to fall back at the collision.

a harsh laugh sounds. he's definitely crying now, tasting tears on his trembling lips. he hits the floor at an odd angle, probably bruising. the sharp pain is like dejavu, familiar. and to top it off, his ass is wet now too, water soaking through his clothes.

phone. there's his phone, in his jacket pocket. he fishes it out desperately, bringing his knees to his chest, recoiling against the wall, trying to create a shelter.

he dials a number, the braille familiar and firm under his shaking fingers. it rings once.

twice.

the seconds between those rings last a million years, metaphysical walls closing in on wooyoung, crushing him. his jacket feels like a second layer of skin, plastered to his form with the rain.

then. "san's phone?"

his hand quivers, because that's not san's voice.

this is a stupid idea. a terrible idea, like all his other ideas, because hongjoong's right, he is alone, and maybe he really does deserve it all. how stupid of him to think-

"weird..." the voice mutters.

wooyoung's heart lurches. "don't hang up-" he croaks, crying harder.

the line clicks, going silent.

-

plucking wooyoung from his abusive little getup at last

sorry it took long bUT there'll be a double update  luvs <3 just give it a few hours

xxx