Chapter Text
Seonghwa sneezed for the nth time in the last half an hour, effectively startling himself and earning a few angry glances from fellow students and staff members.
"Sorry," he whispered, hiding his face in a tissue and sneezing again.
Well, it wasn't his fault that it was fucking freezing in the library's reading hall, which triggered his cold allergy and made his nose all red and runny and cheeks flushed red. Seonghwa did his best to stay warm, drinking ungodly amounts of tea and coffee from his trusty thermos, but, to be honest, it only made the situation worse: the stark temperature difference only caused more sneezing and sniffling.
Besides, it seemed that the last time the library was cleaned happened a few thousand years ago. It was so dusty – the little particles flying around and swaying in the cold winter sun peeking through the tall windows – which definitely didn't help poor Hwa stop sneezing his brains out.
He sighed, taking a sip of his lukewarm salted caramel latte. He really should try to focus on this godforsaken music history essay and get done with it before their evening practice, because he surely won't be able to get anything done after it – Yunho and Mingi aka the terror twins boyfriends invited him and a couple of their friends over to try out a new cocktail recipe. That most definitely meant Seonghwa would spend a good part of his Saturday with the worst hangover imaginable. Despite the imminent headache (and probably a couple of bruises), as the leader of the band and a good hyung, he couldn't say no – after all, someone had to watch out for them and tone down their shenanigans.
Just as Seonghwa was about to get back to reading the paragraph he was stuck on, he heard loud stomping of heeled boots. He didn't even have to lift his head to see who it was – he knew those footsteps all too well.
Seonghwa felt sticky wet lips on his cheek and lean arms around his neck before he could even try to dodge.
"Wooyoungie, how many times have I told you not to kiss me when you wear lipgloss?" he sighed, rubbing his now glittery pink cheekbone.
"Hyung!" the boy pouted, rubbing his temple on the top of Seonghwa's head. "I'm sorry, but I love you too much not to give you hello kisses. Besides, you're too cute when you're irritated," he giggled, finally letting the elder go from his death grip and sitting down next to him.
Seonghwa gave him a little smile and shook his head.
"You little fucker. I love you too, but please stop doing that, or at least tell me how to get rid of your lipgloss on my face. This shit is bulletproof, I have to scrub my skin so hard I fear it rips," he made a wry face, realizing that his fingers also became sticky from rubbing.
Wooyoung opened his bag and fished out a pack of wipes, then took out a single wipe and passed it to a puzzled Seonghwa.
"Wet wipes? I've used them multiple times, they don't–"
"Those are special makeup wipes with oil, they can remove everything. Maybe you could use them to get rid of your horrible eyeliner stains, hyung,” he pursed his lips. “I get that you’re goth and stuff, but this look paired with your dark under eyes makes people want to take you to a doctor and not to their bed. You’ll never get laid like that”.
“Will you shut up for a second, Youngie?” Seonghwa hissed, earning yet another annoyed look from those trying to study. “Have you come all the way to the library to bully me for my looks and my non-existent sex life?”
“Aw, hyung, of course not. I can do that remotely every day in our group chat,” the younger batted his eyelashes at him and dived back into his seemingly bottomless bag. “I wanted to show you this. I just got a rough copy from the student council. Thought you’d be interested”.
He passed an A4 size poster in pinkish and reddish tones to Seonghwa. It was all covered in drawings of hearts, candies, roses, and chubby cherubs. The text read:
“Ah, love. There’s so much to this word. It can be engulfing, inspiring, overpowering, passionate, dangerous, tender; it can be friendly, motherly, carnal… The list goes on and on.
Do you want to share your vision of love? Sign up for the Valentine’s Day Spring Talent Festival! All details can be discussed at the student council center”.
There was also a text in a fine print at the bottom of the page:
“Please keep your performances at least R rated – we don’t want to cause any controversy”.
Seonghwa chuckled at the last sentence.
“I guess no fucking on stage either. What a shame.”
“I thought the same,'' Wooyoung giggled. “I’d love to participate myself, but we can’t play without Yeosangie, damn his exchange year abroad. Maybe you guys can give that talent festival a shake. I’ll bet you anything it will be boring as hell, those prudes will probably recite Shakespeare or something. Oh,” he scratched the bridge of his nose. “Unless Kim Hongjoong and his candy boys are also there. I should ask Sanie if they’re also down”.
Right. Kim Hongjoong. The bane of Seonghwa’s existence. He was a design major, always at the top of the class, always participating in all extra-curricular activities. Always so nice and smiley, polite and friendly to every single person – he seemed like a picture perfect student and a genuine soul to everyone.
The thing is that Hongjoong was way too perfect. His academic success, his character, his sense of style, even his bubble pop band Euphoria, who had a bunch of fans on campus and outside of it – everything was so neat and good and tooth-rotting sweet it made Seonghwa want to throw up.
The fact that Hongjoong was attractive didn’t make his life any better. It was stupid to deny that Seonghwa was into him, no matter how hard he tried. Hongjoong was just a tad bit shorter, but of a sturdier build, he had a small pointy nose and the most melodic laugh Hwa has ever heard. Hongjoong also liked to occasionally wear skirts to class, showing off his pretty legs and muscular thighs wrapped in fishnets and almost causing a heart attack on Seonghwa’s side every time he saw him like that. He was just in Hwa’s taste, but Hongjoong’s overall angelic image threw him off and irritated him beyond belief. There had to be something wrong, something sinful about him. Seonghwa wanted to make him his but at the same time to never see him again, he wanted to ruin him and his ideal guise for himself and everyone else.
“If Euphoria are also playing, we must participate and show them who’s best”.
“That’s the spirit, hyung!” Wooyoung pinched Seonghwa’s long suffering reddened cheek and tucked a strand of his outgrown raven black hair behind his ear. “Come on, let’s get you ready for Yunho and Mangi’s party. Can I give you a glittery pink eyeshadow look for once, pretty please?”
____
It was one of the last open rehearsals planned before the spring festival, a just-polishing-the-details one. There was a good share of students who wanted to show their talents and skills: some prepared dance numbers, some played cheesy love songs, some — just as Wooyoung predicted — recited Shakespeare, which definitely put everybody in a lethargic mood, rather than creating a romantic atmosphere that the student committee had in mind.
The solo singers and the bands usually rehearsed last, due to them having to drag all of their equipment and instruments on stage and the lengthy soundcheck process. This time wasn’t an exception: the only people left in the assembly hall were the stars of the show, Kim Hongjoong’s Euphoria and Park Seonghwa’s Bloody Kisses, as well as a motley body of both of the bands’ fans: some were dressed in total black, all chunky boots, chains and pale faces with dark makeup; others were like bright splotches of paint, colorful hair and clothes alike.
Being the kind soul he is, Hongjoong suggested that Hwa’s band practice first — yet another act of selflessness that made him grit his teeth with irritation, but he accepted nevertheless. He really wasn’t up for arguments that day.
Hongjoong’s bandmates, exceptionally bimbo-coded and triangle-shaped San, who happened to be Wooyoung’s boyfriend, and buff wolfy Bang Chan, who was well known on campus as an awesome well-rounded producer, didn’t object; they gave Seonghwa almost identical dimple-cheeked smiles (did Hongjoong have a type?..) and followed their frontman to the audience seats. They sat among their fans, causing a wave of sighs and whispers from those who adored them most.
Seonghwa exhaled through his nose, slowly, counting to eight. Was he annoyed? Absolutely. He wanted to get done with their rehearsal as soon as possible so that he wouldn’t have to see either Kim Hongjoong’s handsome saccharine face or the way Wooyoung crawled into San’s lap and made his best to devour his face in heated kisses.
Was he nervous? Probably. He couldn’t make out what exactly worried him, but the sticky feeling simmered in his chest. It wasn’t that Seonghwa was unsure of his own or his bandmates’ abilities — Mingi, Jongho and Yunho were not only his good friends, but also skilled musicians, whom he had been playing with for a couple of years now. Neither did Bloody Kisses lack fans; surely, they weren’t wildly popular due to the darker genre they played, but there always was a good amount of people at their gigs, never failing to give the band their love and support. The song they chose to cover at the talent show, Wicked Game by HIM, fit both the theme of the festival and the band’s style, so that also was out of the way.
“Hyung?” Jongho’s quiet voice distracted Seonghwa from his anxious thoughts. “We’re ready”.
“Yeah, right,” the elder fixed his bass strap and cleared his throat, moving closer to the microphone. “Let’s go then. Two, three, four!”
The four men struck their instruments simultaneously, creating a steady rhythm. Seonghwa looked over the hall, smiling at their fans recognizing the familiar melody instantly and shaking their heads to the beat. He then closed his eyes and started singing:
World was on fire
No one could save me but you
It's strange what desire
Will make foolish people do
I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you
And I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you
Through lidded eyes he saw amongst dozens faces the one that commoved him most. Hongjoong was watching him tentatively, smiling and raising his eyebrow.
No, I wanna fall in love
This world is only gonna break your heart
No, I wanna fall in love
This world is only gonna break your heart
With you
This world is only gonna break your heart
Seonghwa felt his face heat up, the blush crawling from his chest up to the tips of his heavily pierced ears. He tried to stay professional, instead moving his gaze towards Mingi at his synth set.
What a wicked game to play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
Jongho then came forward to play his guitar solo, and Seonghwa noticed that Wooyoung had twisted in San’s lap, now facing the stage, and was currently filming the guitarist. He’d probably send the clip to Yeosang – Jongho and he had been dating since high school.
The band finished playing through the remaining verse and chorus, never playing a false note, building up to the final line which was supposed to be sung acapella. The heat and excitement in Seonghwa’s body grew correspondingly. He’s not sure if it happened accidentally, or if he had a split-second idea that he didn’t give any second thoughts, but the Nobody here loves no one ended with a high-pitched prolonged moan. Undoubtedly, it produced the desired effect: the fans of both bands were clapping, cheering and whistling; Mingi burst out laughing, throwing his head back; Yunho stood up from behind his drum set with a half startled, half mischievous look on his face.
Seonghwa smiled and bowed to the audience, once again locking his eyes with Hongjoong. It’s almost as if he chose his seat strategically, so that the vocalist would inevitably see him every time he looked forward. Hongjoong rose to his feet, clapping louder than necessary, biting his already reddened lips and cocking his head to the side. At that moment Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off the pretty face; the methods of achieving that were up to his internal debate.