Summary:

No matter how well educated a man is, one will never shrink away from glimmer of hope. It doesn't matter if you're suffering cancer, or jobless, or starving, or lost; when someone tells you there's chance, you'll strive for it despite the risks it might bring.

Chapter Text

No matter how well educated a man is, one will never shrink away from glimmer of hope. It doesn't matter if you're suffering cancer, or jobless, or starving, or lost; when someone tells you there's chance, you'll strive for it despite the risks it might bring.

That's how Jiyong found himself, in ripped jeans and worn out Vans' shoes, standing in front of Yang Hyun Suk's office. He knew better than bothering his boss –or even worse, his old friend –with disaster to come, but he was the only person he could think of other than Seungri.

Oh, how Jiyong wished things were different and he would be squeezing his brain out to win Seungri in stupid tic-tac-toe game on their coffee table.

He knocked, twice.

"Jiyong?" Yang Hyun Suk was wearing his casual shirt, without his usual hat. He was working until late again, but it's normal in their industry; in life they chose to be. "Are you in trouble?"

Was it his lack of smile or his slumped shoulder, Jiyong didn't know. He had had enough of things his mind refused to process about.

"I guess I am."

"Are you the trouble?"

"Yes," Jiyong didn't even hesitate. "I certainly am."

"Come in."

***

"Do you like it?"

Jiyong tried his best not to smile. "This?"

"Yeah," Seungri's eyes trailed the movement –waving –of paper Jiyong was holding. "I kinda tried."

"To write a song?"

"Not a song yet," Seungri's bangs were a bit longer now he didn't make time to see their hairstylist yet. "Just words."

"Words?" Jiyong placed the sheet between them, finger dancing on dried ink of lines and dots. "Pretty sure I am seeing melodies too."

Seungri shrugged. "I had vision for the chorus."

"Only for the chorus?"

The younger man nodded. "Will you look at it?"

"I am."

"I mean like...maybe...making it into something?"

"By something you meant song?"

"Anything," Seungri pushed the paper back to Jiyong's hand. "I trust you."

Jiyong fought the urge to ask why.

It was twenty-seven lines Jiyong made into a song the day Seungri officially moved to Japan, the song he insisted on putting in his new album. It's a heartbeat Jiyong dared to show up to everyone and maybe, if he's lucky, Seungri.

***

Jiyong claps his hands while laughing. Choi Seunghyun walks through his hotel door at 8.21, nine minutes early than their actual appointment at 8.30.

"Did you accidentally set your alarm wrong or today is apocalypse?"

Seunghyun smacks his head. "Shut up."

"Yeah, Mr. Artholic," Jiyong snickers. "What do you want?"

"Sleep, honestly," Seunghyun yawns shamelessly. "I barely survived the talking."

"What talking?" Jiyong throws him pack of cigarette. There are habits they can't really quit.

"Whatever talking was that about," Seunghyun shrugs. "It was supposed to be an afternoon meeting but it seemed a lot like a class in high school."

"That everyone was listening quietly and taking notes?"

"Exactly."

Jiyong laughs. "And here I thought you're coming for a talk."

"And you'll be the one listening and taking notes, Jiyong."

"No, I won't. Why didn't you just tell me you're coming instead of booking appointment with my manager?" Jiyong watches Seunghyun throws himself unceremoniously on the bed. "That man already has a lot in his to-do list."

"Because you'd probably run away. Don't lie," Seunghyun snaps before Jiyong can tell him no. "You need to face it, Jiyong."

"Who? You?"

"Seungri," Seunghyun sighs. "But first of all, yourself."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. You need to start admitting things."

"What things?"

"That you're actually totally visibly clearly attached to the poor maknae."

"I am the maknae here, Seunghyun-hyung."

"Ah, I forgot we're not a team of five anymore."

"Seunghyun –"

"It was us and it will always be us," the older man looks like he's been waiting forever to say that. Probably Jiyong too, because he feels the pang of guilt in his stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"You better be," Seunghyun hums. "Because I'm not done yet."

"Go on."

"Seriously," Seunghyun shakes his head. "How did Seungri manage to keep up with you?"

***

Seungri tasted like freedom.

Like summer breeze, when the air spoiling him with promises that it would be warmer, that he no longer needed to put layers and layers of extra clothes around him to hide from the cold.

Or from the world.

"It's me," Seungri would always say whenever Jiyong got startled with his sudden presence around. "It's just me."

And Jiyong would sit back and relax, absorbing blisters in his heart for another rejection he received or compliment he didn't think he deserved. When Seungri was around, the world seemed to slow down a bit, allowing Jiyong to catch up with today's news, with oxygen, with controversies he couldn't fathom. There were many and more things Jiyong couldn't wrap his head around, no matter how people speculated him to be a genius. So many things that suddenly made sense simply when he was with Seungri.

Because Seungri was surprisingly simple.

Sure, he was a little bit too friendly with everyone, a businessman in tailored suit and shiny polished shoes. He was two years younger than Jiyong with jokes about as old as his grandpa. But Seungri was simple and sound.

You think too much when you're alone, so be thankful for Seungri the savior.

That's what he would text Jiyong whenever he's coming for sleepover. Or dinner. Or just coming.

So if people ask him about what he missed the most of Seungri, Jiyong would laugh and shake his head.

Nothing, he'd answer.

They told him it's a lie.

Because nothing made sense without Seungri and Jiyong knew very much not to tell anyone about it.

***

"You fucked up years ago."

Jiyong laughs. "As if it's not visible enough, Seunghyun."

"Someone needs to say that to your face."

"You just did, thank you. Go on."

"I'm done."

"Excuse me?"

Seunghyun scratches his head. "I can have long speech about what you should do, what you should've done, about what you've done. I just choose to not to."

"I don't mind speech."

"Well, I do."

Jiyong rolls his eyes and smacks himself mentally. "What a wise man you are, Seunghyun."

"I'm not but I didn't fuck up shit with Seungri."

"Fuck you."

Seunghyun lit up his cigarette. "What I meant was that you screwed up. But that's it. You did and you can't go back to past. However, Seungri is here, now, in a life of a mess you've put him into."

"I tried to save him from that mess."

"You think I misunderstood the sparkle in your eyes whenever you talked about him? You think anyone would ever misunderstand how much you like him?"

Jiyong closes his eyes, pain rushing in his veins. Not the kind of pain when he fell down the stairs. Not the kind of pain when he let the cold water from shower touched his body. It's a dull pain that beats along with Jiyong's heart. It's the pain that always there, claiming his body like paints, in thousand shades of grey he couldn't get rid of.

"Jiyong?"

"I love him," Jiyong says, calm and quiet storm. "I love him so much."

"Then why?"

Jiyong inhales deeply but air betrays his lungs. He's choked with his own secrets. "That's why."

"The why is what Seungri deserves to hear about."

"I should've been careful."

"No," Seunghyun disagrees, looking at Jiyong past the smoke he exhaled. "You should've been stupid enough to tell him."

"So that he'll suffer?"

"Oh, Jiyong. That kid suffered a lot without you...not when he's with you."

"Seunghyun –"

"Seungri deserves to know why did you do that."

"And do you know?"

Seunghyun shrugs. "I might get curious enough and asked someone."

"You –"

"But you can tell me what happened too. A story that might be different than what I've heard."

"What did you hear?"

Seunghyun doesn't smile, but his eyes have hope. "Tell me things I might not know yet."

So Jiyong begins.

***