Archive of Our Own

Jiyong had never been the jealous type. Or at least, that’s what he tried to convince himself of.

I mean, some people were just clueless and needed a constant reminder not to touch what didn’t belong to them. He just liked to make sure that what was his stayed his.

Even if it wasn’t really his.

The absence of a commitment ring on Seunghyun’s finger screamed that, laying the harsh reality bare right in Jiyong’s face. They weren’t dating.

But Seunghyun was his. He was. And a label—or the lack of one—wouldn’t change that.

And if anyone disagreed, Jiyong simply wished he could invite those damn slanderers into the room next to his and make them listen to the loud, hoarse moans
Seunghyun would proclaim almost like a prayer while Jiyong made him fall apart in his mouth. And maybe, a few minutes later, let them feel the impact against the walls and hear his own cries when Seunghyun thrust into him and hit that spot that made all the stars align.
But even if it was a brilliant idea, he couldn’t actually make it happen.

And Jiyong really did have enough reasons to be this jealous.

First, the group had been invited to a game with another boy group, where each person would have their “perfect match.” And it would’ve been fine, if those guys hadn’t messed with the wrong almost-relationship.
The first boy was Jiyong’s match, and it was funny.

Because it was a game, obviously it was. And everyone knew it was a game, because Jiyong used that seductive look and that voice meant to make people weak on purpose, making the poor younger boy stutter and not even manage to look him in the eyes. It wasn’t real flirting. At least, in G-Dragon’s mind, it wasn’t. It had just been another moment of using what he had to shake people’s composure, and it worked.

Jiyong flirted with everyone as a joke, after all.
But Seunghyun didn’t seem to find it very funny. For most of the show, the taller man kept shooting Jiyong deadly looks after his little stunt with Jinu, visibly pissed off.

It was fun to see him like that. The messy part of Jiyong’s ego enjoyed watching Seunghyun twist with jealousy, seeing how the effect he had on the taller man made his jaw clench and his whole body grow tenser by the second. Knowing the other liked him and wanted him so much that any threat drove him crazy. That possessiveness was attractive.

Jiyong wanted to see Seunghyun lose control over him. He wanted to see the jealousy spill out of his gaze and seep through his pores. He wanted him to shout and demand an official name for whatever it was they had. To Jiyong, jealousy in its purest form meant that Seunghyun really liked him. That they were more than just hook-up partners or friends with benefits. The confirmation of everything that had never been said. Secretly, it was all he needed.

Maybe that was why he pushed it too far.
But two could play that game. And right there, it all started to stop being a joke.

The boy who was supposedly Seunghyun’s perfect match was cute and seemed far too innocent for the circus that was about to unfold. Jiyong practically had to give him permission to go near the older man, since he looked scared.

And Seunghyun was difficult even in non-romantic contexts. Sometimes, he seemed so closed off that even those closest to him couldn’t reach him, so up until that moment, it had all just been a game. That’s all.

But then the boy smiled at the corner of his lips and practically flirted with Seunghyun like his life depended on it, while Jiyong could only stand there staring like an idiot. And that made his blood boil, because it felt like competing with someone for something you were one hundred percent sure was yours. And if Jiyong’s ego was high, his insecurity came in double.

The rational part of G-Dragon’s brain told him to stop right there, because really, why? Seunghyun had barely even responded to the boy. At most, he laughed a little and wished him a happy new year. Maybe Jiyong was getting worked up and imagining things for no reason.
But behind Seunghyun’s dark sunglasses, Jiyong remembered exactly the knowing glance exchanged between the so-called “perfect match,” and he couldn’t stop it from bubbling in his mind. He bet that boy had waited his whole life for the moment T.O.P would look at him.

It was like every time Seunghyun looked at someone else, it pressed the right button inside Jiyong and everything collapsed instantly. Like that bunch of idiots was trying to take something away from him.
And he hated that so much of the world could see it. So they could see the beautiful thing Jiyong had for himself, and suddenly everyone was trying to steal Seunghyun. It was so unfair.

Jiyong still remembered what he said while the boy slowly walked away.

“He’s hard to win over. He’s always been like that.”

As if Seunghyun were available for anyone to try their luck.

The younger’s mind replayed it like a cycle of torture. Because maybe, suddenly, someone could slip past Seunghyun’s layers and manage to win him over. And the place Jiyong had never had might never become his.

They would go back to being just bandmates, and Seunghyun would declare to his new person the eternal, maddening love he had never said out loud to Jiyong. And what they had would have been nothing more than an adventure. A pastime.

Jiyong feared being just a pastime. He wanted the maddening kind of love.

Because Jiyong went crazy with every touch, every lingering glance, every time he heard Seunghyun’s voice, his laugh, his dimples. And loving like that alone would be too agonizing.

He screwed the cap onto his water bottle harder than necessary and shoved it away with more force than needed, thanking the heavens that at least that torture — which had lasted a little over ten minutes — was over, and that they had finally arrived at the hotel. The whole group was exhausted from the packed schedule of shows, and they still had a music bank the next day with a few new songs. So high spirits weren’t exactly the word to describe them.

Jiyong scoffed as he heard Daesung and Seunghyun laughing behind him, commenting on the older’s “perfect match” and how “cute” and “adorable” he had been with all his shy flirting. Pathetic.

Jiyong could be cute like that too if he wanted. Even more. When he was that boy’s age, Jiyong had been way cuter. For sure. All his fans always said he was adorable. He still was, damn it.

His expression hardened a little more when he felt Seunghyun’s presence approaching. What did he want now? After all that, had he finally remembered Jiyong existed?

— Can we go?

He said it low and rough. Of course. They always slept together when they were in hotels. Actually, they always slept together whenever they had the chance. Two rooms booked, but only one ever used. Only one with messy sheets.

And Jiyong suddenly wanted to start walking off without even answering Seunghyun, ignoring him for two days and making him regret looking at that pretty boy for more than thirty seconds, the one who thought he might’ve had a chance someday. But he couldn’t, since his bags and everything he brought were in Seunghyun’s room. It was impossible to leave everything with him and survive on just with the clothes on his body and a phone with only 24% battery during his revenge.

So he simply nodded as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the fifteenth floor. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Seunghyun. He didn’t look like the happiest person in the world either, maybe because of the exhaustion, or maybe jealousy.

Jiyong liked the second option. The idea of Seunghyun feeling what he was feeling right now made him feel avenged.

Seunghyun held the key card up to the automatic door and walked into the well-decorated suite, passing the pile of luggage they had left earlier, together, Jiyong’s big Chanel bag sitting on top of the older man’s suitcase. It felt domestic.

— I’m tired. I hate having to cross the world just to be on these boring talk shows.

Seunghyun said, throwing himself onto the bed, while Jiyong took off his shoes and bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. The younger sighed, turning around.

— You didn’t seem to hate it when that guy was practically throwing himself at you.

Jiyong murmured, venom in his voice, much lower than usual, but still laying out everything he felt.

Seunghyun sat up just enough to look at Jiyong’s silhouette, slightly incredulous at whether the shorter man was messing with him. He hadn’t encouraged anything at all — at most, he had laughed at something funny. He couldn’t even remember the boy’s face.

— Ji, it was just for the game, you know that. — he said, his voice low and calm. — I didn’t even pay that much attention to him, or his face. I kind of dissociated for a bit back there.

The truth was that, yeah, Seunghyun hadn’t really paid much attention to the boy, but more than that, he had been jealous too. Because what do you mean Jiyong flirted with someone else while Seunghyun was right there beside him, the shorter man using those doe eyes, that sinful voice, and that provocative attitude like a weapon, making that Mino guy nearly combust on the spot?

All of that while Seunghyun could only watch with the expression of someone who had already died inside. Because maybe he had.

He hated when Jiyong threw it in his face that they were nothing. And he hated it even more when Jiyong provoked him on purpose, knowing it would shake Seunghyun’s heart and the fragile stability of whatever they had.

Because it was like every time Jiyong felt threatened, he’d go and raise the stakes a thousand times over, just so it would hurt Seunghyun as much as it hurt him — tightening that knot in the older man’s chest more and more.

Even so, Choi tried to be the reincarnation of Buddha in moments like that. Tried. Even though he was close to exploding with jealousy, he would only say something when he actually snapped. It would be too much if both of them were ticking time bombs.

Unfortunately, Jiyong knew exactly which buttons to press to drive him insane.

— Really? You didn’t even pay attention? He seemed to like you a lot. — Jiyong said, turning to face Seunghyun now, meeting his eyes. His tone was provocative. — Practically throwing himself at you… trying so hard to get your attention… it’s weird how shameless people nowadays are.

Seunghyun let out a deep sigh, a vein popping in his forehead as he held himself back from losing control.

— Jiyong, what are you even talking about? He barely spoke to me. — the taller man ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer and looking straight at Jiyong, his voice still too calm. — You even said I’m hard to approach!

— Oh, so now you’re defending him? And I’m the one to blame? — Jiyong raised his voice, his jaw locking. — And you told Daesung you thought he was cute. It’d be easier if you just admitted you want to fuck him.

Seunghyun’s eyebrows furrowed, his voice faltering.

— Fuck him? I just wished him a happy new year, for fuck’s sake! — his hands moved sharply as he grew more agitated, the reaction Jiyong secretly wanted finally showing exactly how he liked it. — You’re the one who was throwing yourself at that guy right in front of me like you were begging for attention. Or something else.

— Throwing myself? I was acting normal! — Jiyong took a few steps forward, his face close to the other’s, his expression a mix of mockery and anger. — You’re the one who was way too interested in that little slut and acting like you weren’t just so he’d keep throwing himself at you. I know you like that desperate type, hyung.

— Normal? Don’t play dumb. — Seunghyun’s calm was slipping away more and more by the second, draining from him like water through a sieve. His jaw was tense now, his brows drawn together in real anger. — I saw you when you said goodbye, you brushed up against him and said you guys should hang out sometime. Do you think I’m stupid? You do this for attention, Jiyong. Because you want to get a reaction. To get me worked up. That’s why you flirted with that guy like you wanted him to fuck you the second the cameras turned off. And I’m sick of it.

Jiyong’s face shifted, anger taking over almost completely. He turned his head, breaking eye contact, walking toward the other side of the room and deliberately slamming his shoulder against Seunghyun’s chest as he passed.

— I was just being friendly. But if I wanted to let him fuck me, I could. You and I don’t have anything official. — Jiyong took a deep breath, his voice suddenly calm, cold. — We’re casual. That’s it.

The fury in Seunghyun’s eyes intensified at that. What did he mean by that? Casual wasn’t the word he would use to describe whatever they were. You don’t spend almost every night sleeping in the same bed with someone if it’s just casual. You don’t go out on obviously romantic dates together. Jiyong had his own drawer in Seunghyun’s closet. Was that casual? It didn’t seem like it.

— Yeah, sure. That’s what we are. — Seunghyun nodded in disbelief, his voice dripping with sarcasm. — So you don’t get to give me shit about who I supposedly flirted with either. It has nothing to do with you. And honestly, it pisses me off.

Jiyong held his breath for a few seconds, the words hitting him hard. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? To break Seunghyun, to push until he felt what Jiyong felt. To see him show what he felt in its rawest form. So why did hearing that feel like getting punched in the stomach?

He stared at the older man for a few seconds, who quickly looked away and seemed ready to say something else but Jiyong turned, grabbing his large bag from on top of Seunghyun’s suitcase, then his own luggage, walking toward the door.

— It pisses you off? — the blond said, his expression wounded. Seunghyun cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. But before he could, Jiyong continued. — I’m going to sleep in my room. Good night.
And he left.

Slamming the door behind him.
Leaving Seunghyun standing there, mouth slightly open, choking on air. Running a hand through his hair in confusion, still wired, emotions running high.

— What the fuck was that?

———
Jiyong pushed open the door to his own room forcefully after a short 30-second walk, his large bag and suitcase at his side. The walk of shame to his room had been brief, but unpleasant.

At least it was on the same floor as Seunghyun’s, so he didn’t have to walk through the hotel dragging his luggage around with the visible disappointment of someone who just fought with their situationship.
Okay, he could admit it got out of control. It wasn’t supposed to end like that. It wasn’t. He just wanted to provoke a little, let out what he was feeling, make a bit of a scene and get some affection afterward.
The problem was that Seunghyun actually seemed really mad at him. And Jiyong hated when his hyung got that mad at him.

His slim body moved through the room, tossing his bag and suitcase carelessly onto the floor and kicking off his shoes without any patience, along with a few pieces of clothing that quickly joined the mess.

Jiyong just wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and plugged it in, opening his social media in an attempt to distract himself. He scrolled through Instagram on autopilot, his mind flashing back to the recent argument while he liked random posts, wishing Seunghyun would knock on his door begging for forgiveness (even though he wasn’t entirely wrong), and that they would spend the night together afterward.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? And worse, why did Jiyong always have to make it even more complicated?

Sometimes he hated himself. For doing all of that without even realizing. It was like he couldn’t handle a peaceful relationship, everything had to come with an extra dose of stress, chaos, and obsession.
It didn’t help that Seunghyun didn’t always give in to his tendencies to argue and be difficult. Being ignored like that was a shock to Jiyong.

A post caught his attention: a rose thrown on the ground under heavy rain, with a dramatic caption:
“i wish he loved me like i love him.”

Jiyong reposted it. Feeling the weight of the phrase pull a tear from his eyes.

And then more and more pictures appeared. Images of cigarettes burning on the ground in gray settings, dramatic rain, crumpled and burned paper. Most of them with deep captions.

“maybe im too fucked up to be loved”
“you’re everywhere, except right here, and it hurts”
“my heart broken by a guy i didn’t even date” — most of them, if not all — straight from Tumblr.

Jiyong reposted most — if not all — of them.

It wasn’t his fault that all of it fit perfectly with what they were going through. It wasn’t drama, well, okay, maybe it was, but some Tumblr quotes really hit right in the chest of someone in love with his bandmate, and he needed to show the world just how much he was hurting.

He turned over on the large bed, a small pout on his lips as he kept scrolling. A photo of Seunghyun appeared on his timeline, so beautiful it almost didn’t feel real, and he couldn’t help but like it. The thought of wanting that man all to himself hurt physically.

Eventually, he passed out, somewhere between a few tears (and a small laugh when a random meme of a kitten showed up among the posts), overtaken by physical and emotional exhaustion, and the loneliness of his sheets.

——

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hallway, Seunghyun was still slightly confused.

Jiyong was so difficult sometimes.

Everyone in the room had seen that the one who flirted the most with that guy had been Jiyong himself. So much so that Seunghyun had wanted to suffocate on his own jealousy right then and there, wishing the look he gave his younger rival could kill him.

It didn’t work.

So he was the one who should be mad. The one who should be losing it out of jealousy. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t even said five words to the guy Jiyong was jealous of.

Seunghyun scratched his head, lighting a cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the smoke heavily out the window. He should have been gentler with Jiyong. He shouldn’t have fed into the argument the younger started. He could admit that he could’ve been more rational.

All he wanted right now was to lie down with his pseudo-boyfriend and sleep for 56 uninterrupted hours. But Jiyong wasn’t there to sleep with him. And they had a performance tomorrow, so Seunghyun couldn’t get his desired 56 hours, even alone.

At most, he’d get ten hours of sleep in a bed by himself. Life was so unfair.

His phone buzzed, and he looked at it automatically, part of him hoping it was a message from Jiyong saying: “can you come here? we shouldn’t have fought.” Because he would.

But it wasn’t. It was repost notifications — of course he had them turned on — and there were posts, a lot of them.

Sad quotes, mostly.

Jiyong was so dramatic it was almost cute. The way he always displayed his feelings like they were in a shop window, how easy he was to read. It was cute. It was dramatic.

Seunghyun felt like a teenager again, like when they used to fight because one of them woke up in a bad mood and didn’t give the other the attention they needed.

He stubbed out what was probably his twentieth cigarette, wait, had he really smoked that much? Whatever. Jiyong annoyed him when he acted like this, when he disappeared just to be dramatic. And Seunghyun wasn’t going to apologize first, because he hadn’t done anything wrong to begin with.
He changed out of his studio clothes into his favorite pajamas, a black polka dot set he had once bought matching with Jiyong in Japan, and threw himself onto the bed, hoping he’d wake up with his partner beside him in bed.

——

Well, that didn’t happened.

If before Jiyong had been angry at Seunghyun, now he practically despised him.

During breakfast, Jiyong didn’t even sit next to Seunghyun and Daesung — who had excitedly invited him to join them, only to be met with a curt “we’ll talk later, Dae.” Instead, he sat alone out on a balcony, his back turned to the world, not even sparing the older man a glance.

And Seunghyun tried to convince himself it was just Jiyong’s “leader mode” kicking in before a performance. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. He knew Jiyong was genuinely affected by everything, that the fight had hurt, and that he wouldn’t give in so easily.

Maybe that was why Seunghyun left him alone. He didn’t try to approach him. When they were in the van on the way to the venue, he didn’t even sit next to Jiyong, who rolled his eyes at that but went right back to his phone, acting like he didn’t care. And in the dressing room, Seunghyun didn’t speak to him either.
It was awful. Because as much as Jiyong was dramatic and liked to pick fights for no reason, constantly provoking Seunghyun just to see him get jealous, and as obvious as their communication issues were, Seunghyun liked him so much.

No. He loved him. Maybe not always in the same way, but he had always loved him. Less than a day without Jiyong and he already missed him like it had been a month. They were always together, everywhere, so Seunghyun had grown used to that smaller body radiating energy beside him. To being tangled together on some random backstage couch, to waking up together and eating together and being together and together. And standing on a stage together, always together.

Seunghyun heard Daesung calling him. The four of them were about to go on stage. He took a deep breath and looked at Jiyong, who didn’t look back.

——

The first song started — Girlfriend — and Jiyong was flawless.

Confident. Seductive. Magnetic presence. As always.
He smiled, played with the camera, interacted with the crowd exactly like he always did. But not once, not a single time, did his eyes meet Seunghyun’s.

It was calculated.

Almost deliberately avoided.

Like he was steering clear of an invisible line drawn across the stage.

Daesung tried to make up for it.

He stayed closer to Seunghyun, throwing energy his way, like he was trying to patch an invisible gap in the group’s dynamic.

Meanwhile, Taeyang kept everything steady, as professional as ever, his eyes a little too observant, clearly fed up with Jiyong and Seunghyun’s constant fights.

By the third song, Seunghyun was close to losing his patience. He seriously considered grabbing Jiyong by the wrist and kissing him right there on stage, but that would’ve been too reckless, even for them.

Was it really too much to ask not to be ignored like this?

Was Jiyong’s anger going to last forever?

But he didn’t do anything. He just clenched his jaw again and smiled at the audience. The last song before the break finally ending, thank God.

They gave a slight bow and walked offstage together, heading to the dressing room for what would be about a ten-minute break, for Jiyong and Seunghyun.

Because the two of them — just the two — would perform Zutter next. Alone.

The lights were still flashing outside, the noise of the crowd bleeding through the walls like a distant echo, while someone said something about quick outfit changes, about the next stage, about positions.

Jiyong didn’t hear any of it. He just walked straight into the dressing room without looking back.

The door hadn’t even fully closed before it was pushed open again by Seunghyun, right behind him.

And this time, there was no Daesung.

No Taeyang.

Who had very deliberately chosen not to stay, Taeyang pulling Daesung toward another dressing room the moment Jiyong and Seunghyun got distracted. Maybe hoping they’d sort things out.

There was no staff.

Just the two of them.

And the silence.

Jiyong walked straight to the mirror as if he were alone, adjusting his hair while staring at his reflection, the corner of his eye smudged with makeup, the microphone that didn’t even need fixing, and started taking off his jacket to put on the long coat for the next performance.

He did anything but look back.

— Are you going to keep pretending I don’t exist? — Seunghyun’s voice came out low and controlled, because he really was holding himself back from exploding. But it was still heavy. Filling the dressing room. Reaching Jiyong anyway.

No response.

He didn’t even turn around.

— I’m talking to you. — Seunghyun insisted. Still nothing.

And then Seunghyun laughed. Dry. Humorless.

He took two steps forward.

— What the fuck is this, Jiyong?

— We go on in a few minutes… — Jiyong finally answered, still staring at his own reflection. His voice cold. — Get yourself together.

But Seunghyun caught the way his eye flickered differently. The way he was holding himself together too.

— Get myself together? — Seunghyun repeated, almost in disbelief. — You spend the entire set acting like I’m invisible and I’m the one who has to get myself together?

Jiyong turned.

Slowly.

A sharp look in his eyes.

— What did you want? — he shot back, flat. — For me to throw myself at you like that guy did yesterday?

— Yesterday? — Seunghyun stepped closer. — You’re still on that shit?

— No, hyung. — Jiyong’s smile twisted. Cold. — I’m over it. I’m just treating you the way you said you wanted.

Seunghyun froze for half a second.

— What are you talking about?

— Didn’t you say it had nothing to do with me? — Jiyong tilted his head slightly. — That I don’t have the right to get involved?

Silence.
Heavy.

— So there you go. — he shrugged. — I’m respecting that.

That hit something. Because that was what Seunghyun had said—but it wasn’t what he meant.

— You’re being ridiculous.

Jiyong’s smile vanished instantly.

— Ridiculous? — he repeated, voice lower. — Me?

— Yes. — Seunghyun didn’t back down. — You create a problem, turn it into drama, and now you’re putting on this little show—

— A show? — Jiyong laughed, but there was no humor in it. — You think this is a show?

— I think you like this. — Seunghyun’s voice rose slightly. — Pushing, testing, seeing how far I’ll go.

That made Jiyong’s shoulders drop a little. Partly because it was true. He didn’t like doing it, but he did. Without even realizing.

— And you can take a lot, huh? — Jiyong stepped forward. — You looked pretty comfortable laughing with him yesterday.

— I DIDN’T EVEN LOOK AT HIM!

The shout came out louder than it should have, and both of them froze for a second. Their heavy breathing loud enough to be heard even through the door. Some staff probably listening. Not like it was the first time.

— But I did. — Jiyong replied, quieter now. — I saw.

— Saw what? — Seunghyun shot back, closer now. — Tell me what you saw.

— You liking it.

It wasn’t true. Seunghyun hadn’t liked it. But a dangerous mix of imagination and insecurity could do a lot in the world of feelings.

— Liking what?

— The attention. — Jiyong swallowed a breath, but didn’t look away. — Someone wanting you.

Seunghyun went silent for a second, then let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Because he hadn’t liked any attention. God, he had been stuck there. Jiyong was the one who liked that. Jiyong was the one who drove him insane using that low, rough voice on someone else.

And Seunghyun could still taste it on his tongue, fuck.

— You’re serious?

— I am.

— You— — he pointed, almost in disbelief. — You’re saying that?

— What’s the problem? — Jiyong shot back, defensive.

— The problem is you’re the one who does that all the time! — Seunghyun snapped. — With everyone! Everywhere!

— I can!

Silence.
And something clicked.

— Yeah. — Seunghyun nodded slowly. — You can.

His voice shifted now, lower, more serious, like something had finally hit him.

— Because you don’t have anyone.

It landed like a punch straight to Jiyong’s stomach. Because Seunghyun knew how to hit where it hurt when he was wounded too.

Jiyong froze for a second or two.

— And you do? — he replied, his voice faltering for just a split second, thinner than he intended.
Seunghyun opened his mouth, looking away briefly. But said nothing.

— Yeah. — Jiyong laughed, but his eyes had already changed, unfocused, looking past the bright dressing room. — That’s what I thought.

He turned, grabbing his mic like he was about to leave.
Seunghyun grabbed his arm. Firm at the wrist, but loosening instantly, afraid of hurting him more.

— Stop running away from me.

— Let go.

— Not until you stop acting like—

— Like what? — Jiyong yanked his arm, trying to pull free. — Like we have something?

— You know we do. — Seunghyun said, quieter, almost embarrassed.

— Then say it.

— Here? — his eyes widened slightly. The truth was, maybe he just couldn’t say certain things. He just couldn’t. It was too much. But Jiyong needed words. — Now? Before we go on stage?

— Of course. — Jiyong tilted his head, challenging. — What do we have?

That hit Seunghyun again. Because whatever they had had always been undefined—and honestly? He couldn’t care less about that. They were each other’s, and that should’ve been enough.

But Jiyong asking him to put it into words he had never prepared himself to say, that was something else.

— Jiyong… — Seunghyun sighed, the anger and fight draining out of him in an instant. His grip on Jiyong’s wrist softening into something gentler.
And suddenly—silence.

— You always act like you love me. So why don’t you ever say it? — Jiyong whispered. — Why don’t you say it?

Seunghyun didn’t answer. And the question hung there. Heavy. Raw.

— I… I was really jealous of you with that guy. — Seunghyun started, meeting Jiyong’s eyes honestly. — And I—

A knock cut him off.

— 30 seconds! — a staff member called out, unaware they were interrupting what could’ve been the resolution to everything.

Neither of them moved at first, but then Seunghyun snapped back, shaking his head slightly.

— We’ll deal with this later. — he said, quieter.
Jiyong let out a short, low laugh.

— You always say that.

He yanked his arm free for good this time, turning away, a visible pout on his lips.

He faced away, running a hand through his hair one last time.

— And you never do.

And then he walked out.

Seunghyun stood there for half a second, breath caught, fists clenched.

Then he followed Jiyong right to the stage.

——

The opening beats of the song had already started when they stepped out, a space much larger than it seemed stretching into an abyss between them.

At least it wasn’t an emotional song, that’s what Seunghyun told himself. Because anything more intense and he would’ve started crying right there on stage.
Jiyong still didn’t look at him. And somehow, the air felt even heavier than when they were just ignoring each other.

Jiyong ignored the high-five they always did during one part of the song, and during the moment they were supposed to interact on stage — the one where Seunghyun would poke his cheek with his finger — the taller man stepped closer carefully, in the faint hope that something could still be fixed.

It wasn’t.

Because Jiyong raised his own fingers to his cheek instead, completely cutting Seunghyun out of anything that involved them sharing the same space.

He didn’t want to be dramatic, but that hurt.

Still, Seunghyun tried to give his best during the performance. The fans weren’t to blame for their unresolved mess. He leaned into the energy of the crowd, interacting, and as always, showing that what he loved most, at the end of everything, was rapping.
Zutter ended, and soon after, Taeyang and Daesung came back on stage for the final song, which, thank God, was upbeat too — We Like 2 Party.

For a few minutes, Seunghyun managed to forget that he was fully prepared to tame a feral creature named Jiyong after the show ended. They thanked the crowd, blowing kisses as they walked off.

The moment they stepped offstage, the echo of the music still ringing in their ears and their bodies warm with adrenaline, Seunghyun didn’t think, he decided.
He couldn’t leave it for later anymore. He wanted to make things right with Jiyong before they hurt each other even more. They would be going on vacation soon, and Seunghyun wanted to be okay with him. Wanted to make the most of every moment they had together.

The backstage hallway felt narrower than usual.
People passing by. Staff talking loudly. Someone laughing. Someone telling them to hurry. A few congratulations for the great show, everything blurred.
Seunghyun only saw one thing.
Jiyong.

Walking ahead. Fast. Without looking back.

He ignored the thought that Jiyong looked like a tiny, cute ant hurrying to the dressing room and quickened his pace, catching up to him easily.

This time, he didn’t grab him tightly, he just rested his hand lightly on his arm.

— Ji. — he said in a rough whisper.

Jiyong stopped. But didn’t turn around.

— What? — his voice came out dry. Tired. — We already finished that discussion, hyung. I don’t want to hear anything about it anymore.

God, he was difficult.

But Seunghyun didn’t back down. He stepped around him, stopping right in front of him—forcing himself into Jiyong’s line of sight.

— Look at me.

Jiyong rolled his eyes, swearing he tried with all his strength to avoid it.

Seunghyun took half a step to the side. Blocking him again. And again.

— Stop. — he said, a little louder now. — Stop running from me.

Another eye roll from Jiyong, who still insisted on not looking at him. He sighed, and slowly lifted his gaze.
And maybe that helped. Because for a moment, some of the tension melted in that look.

— You already said everything you had to say back there. — Jiyong murmured, but his voice wasn’t as sharp anymore.

They finally walked into the dressing room. Seunghyun making sure to lock the door.

— I didn’t. — Seunghyun replied immediately. Calm. — I got interrupted.

— Oh, of course. Now it’s someone else’s fault? — Jiyong shot back.

— No. — he shook his head, stepping closer. — It’s ours.

That made Jiyong freeze for a second. He hated that a big part of the blame was his too.

— But you… — Seunghyun continued, softer now — you make things complicated when they don’t have to be.

— I make things complicated? — Jiyong frowned.

— You do. — he confirmed, but his tone… wasn’t accusing. — Because instead of talking, you provoke.

Jiyong looked away.

— And what do you do? — he shot back, weaker. — You stay quiet. Always.

— I do. — Seunghyun nodded. No defense. No excuse. Just… acceptance. — But it’s not because I don’t feel anything for you. You know it.

Jiyong’s eyes snapped back to him, faster this time.

— Then say it. — it came out almost automatically. — For once, say what I want to hear, and what you want to say.

Seunghyun took a deep breath. He took Jiyong’s wrist again, gently this time, thumb brushing over it as he looked into his eyes, fully willing to be honest, to give Jiyong whatever he needed.

— I was jealous. — simple. direct. — As hell.

Jiyong blinked, a part of him relieved to hear exactly what he wanted. But still hesitant, his fists tight, jaw clenched.

— When you were with that guy. — Seunghyun continued. — The way you were looking at him, talking… I wanted to drag him away from you.

— But I didn’t. — he let out a small, tired smile. — Because I’d probably get arrested.

Jiyong swallowed the laugh that threatened to come out. Why did Seunghyun have to be funny even now? Unfair.

— And then you came at me like this today. — he tilted his head slightly. — Ignoring me, acting like I don’t matter, you know that hurts me, my love.

Love.

That one word, the magic one, the one that made Jiyong melt like butter in the sun whenever Seunghyun used it. He stiffened his body, trying to hold his ground.

— You deserved it. — he turned with a small pout, walking a little around the room while still within Seunghyun’s reach, starting to remove pieces of his stage outfit. — No one told you to talk to me like that yesterday.

— I know I hurt you. — Seunghyun said immediately, still holding his wrist gently. — I was jealous and didn’t know how to deal with you being jealous. I’m sorry for what I said.

Jiyong didn’t answer. His eyes still a little distant, his face trying to turn away again, even as he fought himself.

Seunghyun continued:

— I didn’t pay any attention to that guy. I swear. — Jiyong finally looked at him after that, and Seunghyun took the chance to lift his hand to his cheek, stroking it gently. — I don’t even know how you thought I cared about him, Ji. I spent the whole show staring at you like an idiot. The only thing I could think about was getting out of there and sleeping for 56 hours with you.

Jiyong was really trying not to give in, but it worked too well. Seunghyun’s hand on his cheek made him want to collapse into his arms right then. And the way he said every word, looking at him so calmly, with something like love in his eyes, made him want to believe every single one.

— But he talked to you! — Jiyong insisted, voice softer now, gaze wavering. — I didn’t like it. It’s not like you’re available.

He said the last part so quietly that Seunghyun smiled to himself, stepping closer, their bodies brushing in small details. One of his hands slid to Jiyong’s waist, pulling him in.

— I don’t like it when you look at other guys like that either. Or when they look at you. — Seunghyun’s voice could be dangerous sometimes—too good, like music to Jiyong’s ears. — Like you’re available. — he paused for a second. — And I hate it when you act like I’m replaceable.

— Because you’re not. — Jiyong blurted out, too fast, almost tripping over the words.

Seunghyun smiled softly.

— I know. — he stepped closer, their stomachs touching now. — But neither are you.

A weight lifted off Jiyong’s shoulders. Not like it erased the pain, but like those words, spoken with so much feeling, could slowly tear down, brick by brick, an insecurity that had been rooted deep inside him.
He looked away on instinct. But he didn’t step back. His hands rested lightly against Seunghyun’s chest.

— You’re so annoying. — he muttered, without any real force.

— I know. — Seunghyun replied easily.

Jiyong rolled his eyes again, still wanting to play hard to get just a little longer. He pulled away slightly, slipping out of Seunghyun’s hold on his waist and turning back to the mirror, removing some of the heavier pieces of his outfit.

— Don’t think everything’s fine just because you learned how to say pretty romantic words, handsome. — he said, looking more at his reflection than at Seunghyun. — I’m still mad at you.

All at once, Seunghyun pulled him by the hips again, making their bodies collide in one sharp movement. For a moment, Jiyong caught sight of Seunghyun behind him through the mirror, but it didn’t last long. The older one turned him around roughly and immediately crashed his lips against his in a far-from-chaste, deeply intense kiss, which was instantly returned with the same hunger.

Jiyongran his hand through Seunghyun’s hair harshly, almost angrily, a primitive instinct to take it out on the other’s body.

One day had been enough for them to miss each other.

— Still mad? Doesn’t look like it. — he replied between kisses, trailing his lips down to the Kwon’s neck and marking his pale skin hard, almost territorially, pulling soft moans from his partner.

— Shut up. — Jiyong was all managed between moans, still tugging at the other’s hair, urging him to keep going.

Seunghyun turned him back toward the mirror again.

He could feel Jiyong falling apart more with every touch, almost like a doll in his arms. His hands slid down to the lower part of the younger’s body, squeezing his thighs and ass firmly. A body he knew so well, his again.

In one quick movement, the older man grabbed him by the thighs and made him sit on the couch, on top of his lap, still facing him. Taking advantage of that, — spread kisses, licks, and bites along the tattoo on the back of Jiyong’s neck, while he could do nothing but moan.
He was sensitive to physical touch, Seunghyun could easily tell. One of his hands rested on Jiyong’s slim waist, while the other roamed freely over his lean body — chest, thighs, legs. Everything.

— Hyung… — Jiyong moaned louder, almost trembling. — We shouldn’t be doing this here…

Choi answered with a low hum near his ear, taking the chance to kiss and bite his earlobe, drawing out more moans.

Seunghyun stared at him through the mirror, eyes almost red, grip tightening around him.

— Why not? — he murmured, pulling Jiyong’s hair back and forcing him to look at his eyes — I want to make you mine everywhere I can. And I want everyone to hear it.

He let go of his hair, pushing him down harder against his boner. Out of habit, the younger increased his movements, grinding against him while feeling his own hardening inside his clothes.

Seunghyun reached for Jiyong’s shirt, pulling it off with ease and tossing it aside, immediately smoothing and squeezing his already sensitive nipples, pulling a choked moan from the redhead, who seemed completely undone by touch.

Without hesitation, the older one freed his erection as well, using his big hands to stroke him, already leaking pre-cum, making Jiyong tremble as small tears formed in his eyes.

All of it happened while Jiyong watched himself being completely taken in the mirror — a mess of moans and sweat, riding Seunghyun’s lap over and over.

— I bet that guy wouldn’t even come close to making you sound like this, pretty boy. — Seunghyun said. His low, possessive voice whispered in Jiyong’s ear as he kissed and bit his shoulder, hands moving in ways that drove him insane. — Right? No one ever will. They won’t even try. Because you’re mine.

Jiyong nodded, breathing heavily, struggling for air, and suddenly moaned loudly as he felt the familiar intrusion. Seunghyun’s thick fingers, slick and careful, stretching him open from the inside.

The best part of sex with Seunghyun was everything, because it felt like reaching nirvana.

He always knew exactly what to do, exactly where to touch. While Jiyong could only moan and play the role of his “pretty boy.” And he loved it. He wanted that man entirely to himself. Wanted every atom of them to collide with such force it would cause nuclear fission, exploding together in a chain reaction so they’d never be separated.

A louder cry escaped him when those long fingers hit his prostate, his face twisted in overwhelming pleasure, every erogenous zone overstimulated at once, all visible in the mirror. It felt so good, so intense, so hot. Seunghyun fucked him almost angrily, marking him in every possible way.

— Please, hyung… — Jiyong murmured, barely audible, but somehow understood. — I need you.

Seunghyun nodded quickly, turning him so that now Jiyong was facing him, looking straight at him. Slowly, he freed his own cock, big, thick, the tip leaking, and guided it to the already abused, slick entrance.
Chocolate-brown eyes met almond-shaped ones, as if asking for permission and the pleasure on Jiyong’s face answering with a clear yes.

Seunghyun pushed into him slowly, their heartbeats easing for a second before picking up again when Jiyong, impatient, started riding his hyung’s cock quickly, chasing his own pleasure.

The older man grabbed his hips, guiding and helping his movements while his other hand kept stroking Jiyong’s cock, which showed he was close, those decorated nails digging into Choi’s neck.

The sight of Jiyong practically bouncing on his lap was enough to make Seunghyun come without even being touched, the way they stared into each other’s eyes sending shivers down his entire body.

Fuck.

Jiyong was the love of his life. His soulmate.

They kissed again, this time more deeply, more passionately, Jiyong exploring his mouth thoroughly as they moved faster and faster.

The shorter moaned into the kiss, his body trembling as release hit him, spilling between their stomachs. Seunghyun, with a few more thrusts, came inside him, feeling it spill along his length.

They both panted, hearts still racing. Seunghyun exhaled shakily and rested his forehead against Jiyong’s.

— I love you. — he said, his eyes fixed on Jiyong’s tired face, who looked like he was about to pass out, but still broke into the most genuine smile at those three words, letting out a soft laugh as he collapsed fully on top of Seunghyun. It was the first time he had said it out loud, but honestly, it didn’t make that much difference. It had always been obvious they loved each other. — A lot.

— I love you too, hyung. — Jiyong murmured, already half-asleep and a little embarrassed, the adrenaline wearing off. It was also his first time saying it so clearly, and a shiver ran down his spine. — But i’m still mad at you. — Jiyong added, his voice softer now, just like a joke. — But now… about that thing you said, about us sleeping for 56 hours…

Seunghyun’s loud laugh filled the room.

— Alright, alright. Let’s get back to the hotel, baby.