Status: Fic 25/100
Pairing: Can be read as Leeteuk/Anybody, written with Leeteuk/Shindong in mind
Rating: R ((WHAT.))
Warnings: obvious use of alcohol, inexplicit smut, some language
Summary: Youngwoon is gone and Jungsu is desperate to reach out to anybody
A/N: i really love this one for some reason. it's actually one of my favorites that i've written <3 it took me one day over a year to finally get it perfect, and for once i'm actually satisfied with the outcome :'] i'm not really sure why i did the dialog in italics, but it just felt right to do it that way. plus, i like playing around with different formatting ;P
You aren’t really sure why Youngwoon decides to confess it to you first. You’ve never been particularly close, nor have you had any particularly meaningful one-on-one conversations with the slightly older male, but for some reason he comes to you one night- bottle of soju in hand- and tells you everything.
He says that he’s going into the army soon; management isn’t giving him a choice. He hands you the bottle after cursing it and tells you he’s scared- so scared- that he’s ruined his life already and that nothing will ever be the same. As much as you’re inclined to agree, you hold your tongue and let the soju be forgotten on the floor at your feet. He didn’t come for you to tell him what he already knew; he came for you to listen and say that everything would be alright, even if it wasn’t.
You let him talk into the early hours of the morning, the bottle of liquor still untouched beside you, and are finally about to call it a night when he drops the final bomb on you. Two of them actually.
“Hankyung’s been talking about leaving too,” he says, voice a whisper and eyes all too serious.
You try your best to keep your face neutral as you look up at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He’s been thinking about it for a while, but I think he might actually be serious this time.”
You nod and glance over at the couch you usually wake up to find Heechul passed out on after a particularly nasty fight with the Chinese man and almost feel sorry for him. “Might be,” you muse.
There’s a long silence before Youngwoon picks himself up off the chair and heads for the front door, but it’s broken by his last thoughts of the night.
“Take care of Jungsu when we’re gone,” he says over his shoulder. “Don’t let him do anything stupid- I love him.”
And then he’s gone.
Jungsu actually takes it much better than any of you could have hoped. After Boom’s enlistment, you all figured that Jungsu would be a one-man Niagara Falls when the eleven of you started to get drafted. But to everyone’s surprise, he hardly sheds a tear when Kangin breaks the news, and his eyes are completely dry when they gather together to send him off.
It isn’t until about a week later that you find out just how well Jungsu is really dealing with it.
He’s sitting on the floor wearing nothing but one of Kangin’s oversized t-shirts, empty bottles of various liquors littering the carpet around him and stage makeup melting off his face from a river of tears. You’ve seen him cry hundreds of times before, but he’s never looked quite this pathetic.
“H-hyung. I’m sorry, I was just-” Your hand reaches for the door to let your hyung have his moment, but he calls you back before you move more than an inch.
“Please don’t leave,” he hiccups as he wipes his nose and a few more tears fall to the hardwood floor. “I just- I just really need someone right now.”
A weird sense of déjà vu passes over you as you wonder “why me?” but the door closes behind you and you wrap your arms around his trembling form all the same.
He feels so small in your arms- fragile and breakable- but his grip on your shirt is strong and unrelenting. He sobs endlessly in the shelter of your embrace, and all you can really think about is how you’re going to have a massive blob of tan and black on the shoulder of your favorite shirt when this is over (whenever that may be.)
Eventually, though, his sobs diminish into tiny sniffles and his grip on your shirt loosens to nothing more than a light touch, almost as if he were just resting his hands on you. You still can’t think of anything to say, and a big part of you wishes that the older man would just drift off to sleep so you can carry him to bed- no awkwardness and no exchange of comforting words that you really don’t have.
But then again, luck has never really been on your side.
He lifts his head out of the home it created in the crook of your neck and his red, puffy eyes are staring straight into yours. The pain held in them is strikingly obvious when you’re sitting this close to him, and you mentally slap yourself for ever thinking it wasn’t there; aside from Jongwoon, you figure that he’s probably taking this the hardest.
“Answer me honestly,” he asks as his eyes lower and his body tenses up again. “Do you think I’m worth something?”
It’s hard to say what exactly is going through Jungsu’s mind when he asks you this: maybe he think he’s a bad leader, maybe he thinks it’s his fault that he couldn’t keep the fifteen of you together, but you can only think of one answer regardless.
“You’re worth everything.”
He seems to like your answer enough to crush his lips against yours in the sloppiest, most drunken kiss you’ve ever even seen, but you’re too surprised to do anything about it until you feel yourself kissing him back.
The taste of alcohol is thick on his tongue as he threads his fingers through your unruly mop of hair, but it still isn’t enough to make you stop him. You figure that he needs this- needs someone- in this vulnerable state he’s in, and this thought alone keeps you from protesting when he pushes you onto the floor, lips still sealed tight, and climbs on top of you.
It’s nothing pretty really (you’ve never been particularly attracted to Jungsu to begin with) but there’s something beautiful in the way that all his emotions are laid out for you, raw and uncensored, as he bears his soul and sheds his one article of clothing. He’s skinny and pale and looks just as fragile as he felt in your arms, and you’re terrified that you’ll break him even though he’s the one calling all the shots.
He fumbles with the button on your jeans and nearly snaps the elastic on your favorite boxers as he tries to free you from your own clothing, but once it’s all gone he stops moving. You think that maybe seeing your body- the one that’s different from everyone else’s- will snap him back to his senses and put a stop to all this craziness. It’s actually what you’re hoping for because you know that you don’t have the willpower to stop this on your own.
Instead, he leans forward and brings his face toward you. “Beautiful,” he whispers before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you’re gone.
It only crosses your mind a few times just how wrong this is: when Jungsu raises your hand to caress his face, when he leans forward to breathe a moan into your ear, when he starts to rock his hips against yours and makes you move inside him… You feel guilty for a moment each time, but then oh shit he’s coming and you’re losing your senses as he tightens impossibly around you.
You toss everything to the wind in that one moment of ecstasy, when stars are exploding behind your eyelids and yet all you can see is Jungsu’s face- makeup smeared and tears everywhere.
When it’s all over and you’re both panting beside each other, a thought fleetingly crosses your mind. Well, you think, this is probably pretty high on the list of stupid things you shouldn’t be letting Jungsu do.
The next morning finds you waking up still naked on the floor, but somehow a pillow has managed to make its way under your head and a blanket had wrapped itself around your body. The bottles littering the hardwood floor have been cleared away, and you’re pretty sure that the curled-up lump in Jungsu’s bed is none other than the leader himself. You take this as a sign to leave and act as if nothing ever happened when you sit around the breakfast table with everyone else, so that’s exactly what you do. You figure that the best way to go about it is to act like everything is normal (no sense in making things awkward for the both of you,) and if God really loves you as much as Siwon says he does, Jungsu will have forgotten that the whole thing happened in the first place.
Jungsu, however, doesn’t seem to be on the same train of thought.
The eldest member finally wanders out of his room just as Ryeowook clears the last of the plates, fully clothed and soft smile in place. “Morning,” he mutters to no one in particular.
“Morning Hyung!” Donghae chirps right back and moves over to make room for the leader to sit at his normal place beside him.
But to everyone’s surprise, Leeteuk walks right past Donghae and plops himself down next to you, half leaning against your arm and half cuddling with it as he still shows off that gentle smile. Everyone stares, but no one says a word, and eventually they move on with their lives.
Only you show visible signs of your shock, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never sat up this straight before in your life- especially not twenty minutes after getting out of bed.
The other members start to pick up on what’s going on one by one, Heechul of course being first and Donghae being last along with you, and you’re not really sure which of the two of you has the bigger case of denial. Never once had you thought that someone would sit beside you on the couch just to hold your hand or press a goodnight kiss on your cheek a little bit longer than necessary just because they could- and you certainly never imagined that person would be Jungsu- but after a few short days, the signs are blatantly obvious.
Even on stage Jungsu doesn’t hesitate to slide his fingers against your arm for no reason or send you a beaming Zhou Mi-grade smile from a hundred feet away. It’s not that the change bothers you; you just aren’t used to it (and eventually you start to think that even Zhou Mi’s smiles are dull in comparison.)
You decide to take it all in stride and soak it in while you still can, responding to some of Jungsu’s touches with gestures of your own and doing everything in your power to make that one little dimple appear on his left cheek as often as possible. Your relationship has always been like that, you muse, and it isn’t until Heechul’s not-so-subtle threat of “you break his heart and I break your face” that you decide to figure out exactly where you stand.
He’s in his room, scribbling God knows what on a piece of paper in front of him with the hood of his favorite white jacket pulled over his head to block your view of his face. It doesn’t really click what’s going on until you hear him sniffle, watch him wipe his face on his sleeve, and just-so-happen to notice Kangin’s name written out on the top of the page.
“Is everything alright Hyung?”
He acts as if a gun had gone off in the room, jumping in his seat and whipping his tear-soaked face around to look at you in the doorway. He’s been crying for a while, and you both know that it’s painfully obvious.
“What? No, everything’s fine. I’m just- I’m just being stupid. All of this is stupid. I’m fine.” He quickly crumples the unfinished letter in his fist and tosses it to the side before wiping his eyes again and getting up from his cross-legged position on the bed. His hair is a furious mess beneath his hood, his eyes are red and puffy, and his voice still shakes when he speaks, but you can’t help thinking that the broken creature in front of you is a raw shade of perfection.
From that moment on, you know where you stand, even if Jungsu is still hopelessly lost in the wreckage.
There’s no liquor this time, and for that you’re slightly grateful. There’s no alcohol fooling his mind into making him think that it’s better than it actually is; just his white jacket on the floor next to your jeans and his delicate fingers tangled in your hair. You can swallow his panting breath without the lingering burn of soju on your tongue and get drunk off nothing more than the feeling of Jungsu’s skin beneath your fingertips.
He moves with you this time, and the pleasure of every sensation multiplies tenfold when he rolls his hips against yours in a smooth, almost practiced movement.
Jungsu’s not your first- granted that the girl had only slept with you because of a dare and only spoke to you once afterwards. “You’re just not my type,” she’d said the next day, and in fact it was her boyfriend who gave her the dare. You didn’t understand (still don’t, really) but to her it seemed like an everyday thing. “I kind of like that he’s a jerk sometimes, and you’re just too nice. You’ll be a good catch for someone else though.” And then you never spoke to her again.
No, Jungsu definitely wasn’t your first, but there are some times when you wish more than anything that he had been.
Every now and then you find yourself wondering what Jungsu actually thinks of you. You wonder if you’re just a sex toy that he can play with when he’s bored or fuck when he’s depressed and thinking about someone else. It wouldn’t come as a shock to you if that were the case, but at the same time you can’t help but think that it’s the furthest thing from the truth: Jungsu would never use anyone like that.
Besides, people typically don’t hold hands with their sex toys out in public (or at least as public as you can get without creating a scandal,) and they certainly don’t let you wake up in their bed the next morning with your arms securely wrapped around the fragile contours of their body as they sleep peacefully on your chest.
He looks the most beautiful that way: hair a mess, eyes bleary, and still practically dead to the world when he first awakens in the morning and looks up at you. It’s in the sleepy little smile he gives you afterwards that you find complete contentment, and the gesture makes it so much easier to pretend that you’re the only one he’s ever wanted to be with.
But you never stop wondering why. Even after you consecrated this little relationship of yours, sealed the deal over and over again with a mesh of burning, desperate lips, you still wonder why me? Had it been because you were in the right place at the right time? If anyone else had gotten to Jungsu a moment sooner that night, would they be the one with their arm carelessly slung around Jungsu’s hips as you waited for the camera to start rolling? If Youngwoon hadn’t left… would he still want you at all?
You get your answer rather unexpectedly, and you’re not all that sure if it’s really a definitive answer or not when the man who caused all of this shows up in your doorway one evening clad in his military uniform and is greeted by Donghae nearly vibrating with excitement.
His unexpected return is met with shouts of joy, songs of laughter, and rivers of tears from some members- even Heechul crawled out of his little depression hole to be with his dongsaeng- but you knew Youngwoon only had eyes for one person, and that person was clinging to your hand for dear life.
Jungsu doesn’t let go of your hand at all when Youngwoon comes home for his little one-week vacation, and Youngwoon doesn’t miss it. He also doesn’t speak to you the whole time he’s there.
A lot of things race through your mind every time you’re with Jungsu; some things you wish to suppress and others you let out as breathy moans as he kisses you into oblivion. You want to know what all of this is supposed to mean, where this is supposed to go in the future, but you never find the courage to ask. It’s as if vocalizing the tiniest bit of doubt would shatter this… thing you’ve caught yourself up in, and you’re too terrified to lose him when it’s only just begun.
Still, one night your emotions get the better of you and you cross that invisible line into the point of no return.
He’s gasping and clawing at your skin as pleasure courses through his veins, consuming him with the invisible fire of lust as the words burn a hole into your mind.
Jungsu’s still coming down from his high when you can’t hold it back anymore. His head rests against your heaving chest and the word is breathed out before you can stop it.
He freezes mid-breath, and for a moment you think that you’ve just ruined everything with one little phrase. His empty eyes blink at the sheets before he turns on his side, warm body curling into yours, and breathes a delirious smile against your neck.
“I wish you could.”
You don’t sleep that night. Or the next.
Your dancing is embarrassingly sloppy throughout rehearsals and the choreographer looks about ready to knock your head clean off when Eunhyuk comes to the rescue.
“You’re not like this,” the skinny man says as he pulls you aside and shoves a bottle of water in your hand. “You know this routine better than I do Hyung. What’s going on?”
You know it would be useless to hide it since yes, you do pretty much own this dance routine, but you don’t really know what to say. That same question has been floating around your mind for the past few days, yet you’ve come up with nothing that even resembles a sensible answer. “It’s nothing,” you say while shaking your head and attempting to loosen your limbs. “Just haven’t been sleeping much.”
It’s mostly the truth, and the younger man takes it as such with a pat to your shoulder. “It’s about to get a lot worse. Any of us will be lucky to get a full hour of sleep as soon as this album drops,” he advises. As if you didn’t already know.
“Yeah. I’ll get it together.” You offer your dongsaeng a weak smile and it’s the last thing either of you can say before the choreographer comes in to beat the both of you with a notebook.
However, even after hours upon hours of dwelling on it, nothing really seems to come together. I wish you could, I wish you could, I wish you could.
It drives you insane.
Jungsu all but crashes beside you on the bed that night and lazily plays with the leg of your pants with his toes. You’re too scared to ask anything of him in that moment, and you hastily decide that it’s not worth it; why ruin what you have because of something that could mean nothing at all?
The logic sucks and you know it, but the weight of his head on your shoulder keeps you from saying a word.
You’re eating a midnight dinner with Sungmin when it’s said out in the open for the first time. You watch as the younger male gradually devours everything on his plate and fleetingly think that he only stuffs his face when he’s around you, simply because you’re his best friend and you’d probably be the last one to tell your manager that Sungmin’s actually been eating when he was supposed to be on a diet. (Management wants him to loose the remaining bits of chub on his cheeks for his new look, but you would rather it stick around for a while; Kyuhyun and Henry’s too, but that’s Zhou Mi’s territory now.)
He eats slowly, but definitely to his heart’s content and then some, simply because he can and hasn’t thrown up yet. Somewhere between a mouthful of chocolate cake and you flashing back to EHB filming, Sungmin finds the restraint to take a breath and speak to you for the first time since he started.
“So, you and Eeteuk-hyung, huh?” he asks, mouth still partially full and fork prepared to dive in again.
You blink at him a few times before the question actually registers, but even then you aren’t sure what to respond. Clearly there’s something between the two of you; you just don’t know what it is or how to put it into words. So instead, you opt for something a bit more neutral and hope Sungmin might be able to fill in the blanks for you.
“How’d you find out?”
The younger man snorts and again speaks with his mouth half full. “Seriously? It’s almost disgusting how touchy-feely he is around you now,” he answers. “I couldn’t even stay mad about you not telling me.”
All you can do is nod and stare at the plate of food Sungmin was practically inhaling. You learned quickly that in this industry, fanservice could mean everything, or it could mean nothing at all. But with Jungsu… it wasn’t just fanservice. Not to you. There was warmth in his touch that had your heart exploding and an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. Even now you were apparently under the spell of just the memory.
“Oh my God, there really is something,” Sungmin blurts, and it snaps you back to reality. “You’re like… a fucking lovesick puppy or something. No, puppies are cute. This is just…” The younger man trails off and slowly lays down his fork. “Are you two… serious? I mean... really really serious?” he asks. His voice is low and his expression is one that you’re sure no one else gets to see: there’s no playfulness or teasing, just hard lines and the desire to know.
And for a moment, you wonder why you aren’t wearing the same expression. You want more than anything to be honest with Sungmin, but you don’t know how. You don’t know anything anymore, and you tell him as much.
“Then you must be.”
and resumes stuffing his face.
It’s raining when you finally gather up the courage to talk to him again.
Jungsu’s standing on the balcony, face tilted skyward, eyes closed and drops of rain kissing his cheeks as he slides his hands down the railing. Steady fingers glide across its metal frame and push their way through the beads decorating its surface, invading their lives and scattering them everywhere.
It was raining the day he was born and it was raining the day he fell into your arms for the first time, tears pouring from his eyes and rain pouring from the heavens.
He speaks before you even find the words, and just by his voice you can tell that rain isn’t the only thing streaking his face.
“Youngwoon called this morning.”
His eyes remain on the sky and his fingers flex around words he can’t quite grasp. You know what he means before there are even syllables on Jungsu’s tongue, but it still hurts. This time it’s just a dull ache from a wound inflicted long ago.
“I can’t promise you anything Donghee,” he finally whispers. “I’m sorry.”
The small nod you give him is one of understanding; you know that Jungsu feels more alone than he’s ever been- more helpless than he’s ever imagined- and even though both of you know it’s not true, it does nothing to shake the feeling.
The clouds above look like smoke, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re just watching his world burn.