A/N:

Before I end this fic, I would like to apologize for taking too long, for making this too long, for every mistake, and for every expectation I didn't meet.

This has just been me wanting to go on a character study and to quench my thirst for a lot of Seungri-worship.

Thank you for coming with me on this emotional ride, and if you ever felt confused, I didn't mean for this to be strictly straight-forward anyway.

This will no longer be for subscribers only, but I do welcome you to remain subscribed.

For all the upvotes and subscribes, thank you so dearly. It meant a lot.

For all the comments, I've read them all, and they give me inspiration to keep on writing. Forgive me for neglecting to reply, but I promise to reply to the ones for this last chapter. (So if you atually have questions, I will answer them.)

Here we go.

Thank you.

-FeatherFall.

Seungri ended up taking Jiyong to some log cabin in the woods in some part of America he was notfamiliar of, and though he knew he was supposed to be sulking, he couldn’t help the irrational fear that told him to run and be glad he wasn’t some black guy or blonde bimbo.

Okay, he might have watched too much cliché American horror films, but it was always fun watching Daesung scream and he never anticipated being in those sort of predicaments.

“Uh, Seungri?” he called, eyeing the wooden house with doubt. “You’re not planning on killing me here, are you?”

Seungri laughed. “Calm down, hyung. We’ll only be here for three days. Plus, I didn’t just ninja you from Korea all the way here just to have you killed.” The maknae turned to him and winked. “I would have just fed you to the paparazzi if I had wanted to.”

It had been a miracle to Jiyong, how Seungri was able to sneak him away from YG magically, had him step on a plane unnoticed, land in America inconspicuously, and get him on a jeep to Ohio without trouble. All the members knew how good Seungri was at teleporting from one country to another without any of their fans noticing, but he didn’t think it would work for him, seeing as how popular he was.

Jiyong realized that it was a little bit magic and a little bit of the fact that Seungri was a ing troll who knew how to put his talents to good use.

It was brilliant, regardless that Seungri sounded like a military instructor when he said, “Keep your head low, move fast, don’t wear too flamboyant clothes, not too much accessories, don’t walk like you own the place, and carry your own goddamn bag. Understood?”

And Seungri had tossed him his bag, then. It wasn’t his, per se. It was Seungri’s – he’d seen it a few times before – but he only nodded and followed the maknae’s instruction to the letter. Although, when he did get on the plane, Seungri laughed at him for being unable to switch of the swag, even when he wanted to.

He couldn’t help the blush that invaded his face.

Jiyong frowned. “You wouldn’t.”

Seungri shrugged. “You’re probably right. No one deserves death by paparazzi.”

“We’re here,” their driver interrupted, in english. American english, and not English english which he had started to hate ever since he met Seungri’s current boy toy.

Jiyong was whiplashed into remembering that: one, they were in America; two, their driver was one of Seungri’s many Richie Rich friends; three, that he owned the cabin in the woods as well as other business establishments in China and America; four, that he should have spoken in English because he was the guest and speaking in Korean might have insulted his host; and five,  he shouldn’t have called him as the driver in his head because, hello, Jiyong, please find your manners.

To be fair, the guy didn’t sound at all offended, so he thought he was still in clear waters.

Wait, what was his name again?

“James, dude,” supplied Seungri in his infuriatingly good English-American accent. “This place looks amazing. Thank you!”

Jiyong would have begged to differ, but again, manners.

James had parked the jeep just outside the cabin, which wasn’t all that impressive in Jiyong’s opinion. It was small, not at all what he had expected. There was a lake behind, though, which was a total redeeming factor.

Trees were everywhere, bathing them in shadows he wasn’t all too comfortable to be in. He couldn’t stop thinking about how dark it would be later, and how his demons would consume him so easily. That is, if actual physical monsters didn’t get to him first. He swore that if he saw an Ouija board or a conspicuous book filled with weird drawings and chill-inducing incantations, he was totally going to, without a doubt, bail.

James smiled, patting Seungri by the chest like they’ve been friends since High School. “If you like this, you’re gonna love the inside.”

James led the way as Jiyong and Seungri grabbed their bags.

“Hey, what’s your name again?” James asked as they made their way to the foyer.

The rapper cleared his throat. “Jiyong.”

“Ji-young?”

“It’s actually Jiyong.”

James laughed. “Know what? I’ll just call you GD. How about that?”

Jiyong couldn’t help his smile. Seungri’s friends were as social, it seemed. “All good, man.”

They entered the cabin and Jiyong took back all his words, especially the ones he didn’t say.

The place was decked. It was chic and luxurious, despite the minimal space. There was a fireplace, and the couches were made of pure Italian leather. A 64-inch flat screen was propped up on top of it, and the coffee table was littered with the latest of console gaming. His eyes caught on to the surround system, which was rather in excess with the authentic jukebox by the corner.

“Nifty,” Jiyong managed to say under his breath. He particularly liked the organic feel of the living room, in contrast to the vast technology made available.

James laughed. “Nifty?”

Jiyong grinned despite himself. “Oh, I’m sorry,” sarcasm was heavy on his tongue. “I meant to say ‘Holy , man. How are you not being robbed?’”

Jiyong saw Seungri grin and he wanted to trap it in a jar and put it on display, to remind himself that somehow, he could still make Seungri smile.

“Easy,” answered James, waving his hand as he led them toward the rest of the house. “I own the lake and all the surrounding land.”

Jiyong scoffed. “You can’t own a lake.” But James replied no more so he whispered to Seungri, “can you?”

Seungri merely gave him a fond smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“This is the kitchen,” James introduced. “Everything is electronic because it’s so much safer. Fridge is fully stocked as to Riri’s requests. If you want something else, you can just phone it over, or make it on your own. There are stock ingredients here too.”

James pointed to a closed door once they’ve moved on. “That’s the bathroom, fully stocked. they’re all products I like to use but feel free. It’s connected to the bedroom, which is over here.”

James opened the door and Jiyong was impressed. His heart stuttered in excitement at how inviting the bed looked, and that one of the walls was just clear glass that showed off the beauty of the lake and the surrounding forest. The sheets were probably satin and the pillows were probably Egyptian cotton. An intricately designed closet was lined up against the wall beside a uniformly made grandfather clock.

“The glass is bulletproof,” James went on. “And you can just close the curtains if you want a little privacy. There’s only one bedroom, though, so you have to share.”

“Share?” Jiyong echoed, because wasn’t that just a typical plot twist pulled out of some K-Drama.

Jiyong shivered at the American’s wink and wiggle of eyebrows. “That a problem, GD? This place was made for the ladies, if you know what I mean.”

Seungri gagged. “Ew! James! That’s disgusting. Did you at least wash your sheets?”

“I’m married, ,” James laughed. “Married and loyal. The last time I used this place for that was nine years ago. Now we just come up here once a year to get away from the city life.”

“Some get away that is if you spend it in an air-conditioned technologically advanced cabin,” Seungri bit back. “Drive for miles just to watch TV. It’s a waste, I tell you.”

James cooed, and Jiyong remembered that Seungri was also mostly younger than most of his business friends. “My little brother’s grown up,” he said. “Telling me what to do and everything. Still got more than you, though, so you could kindly shut up.”

“Only because I like ,” Seungri grumbled.

Really,  it was unfair that Seungri was adorable talking about and .

James’s laugh was hearty. “God, I hate Trevor,” he went on, and Jiyong could only agree. “He fixed your accent. Despite, note, three years of friendship with me. I should be insulted.”

“Hey now,” Seungri was quick to say as his arms weaved around James’s waist. “Let me make it up to you.”

Seungri’s lips puckered so revoltingly that James immediately tried to push his head away.

“Ri! Stop!” he protested loudly. “Get away from me! You’re disgusting!”

Seungri giggled, makingJiyong wrung his wrists in jealousy.Fortunately, his maknae let go easily and James was straight and married.

James ushered them out and onto the back. Jiyong knew that he should have been surprised that there was a small pool, but he wasn’t.

Rich boys, he scoffed in his head.

(He wasn’t too different, though.)

“The lake here is clean and taken cared off. We had to get a compliance permit for this, right? And we take that seriously. My wife’s such an environmentalist I couldn’t live it down otherwise. If you want to take a swim, you can, but I suggest using the pool instead, unless you like fishes swimming around your legs. Water might be a bit cold, though, but otherwise bearable.”

James concluded the tour with an invitation for them to do anything they want as he went back inside to turn on all the air-conditioning units. Jiyong, for want of anything else to do, grabbed their bags and took them to the bedroom.

It was quiet, and he was back to feeling remorseful. He couldn’t help but feel like he abandoned his other members, but all of them were insistent, adamant that this was what was best for their leader right now. He kind of wished Youngbae was there, because Youngbae had always been a good shoulder to lean on.

But he figured they were right. He needed to make a decision alone, away from any influence and pressure, because this was a decision that could break them.

Three days, Seungri had planned. They’d only be staying for three days, Seungri had only given him three days to make a decision because they couldn’t drag this one, if only to avoid the surfacing of new rumors or more negative feedback. At least he had Seungri with him, because he had always been his guiding light, whether Jiyong knew it or not.

At least, Seungri was there.

Jiyong let the comfort of softness and warmth envelop him as he let his limbs fall onto the bed. He’ll think about it after he woke up. Until then, he grabbed the sleep that eluded him after more than twenty-four hours.

Jiyong woke up in a panic before he remembered that he was in Ohio and not Seoul. The room was comfortably cold, and an assuringlight seeped through the ajar door. Funny, he remembered leaving it closed and didn’t remember burying under the covers. He the lights and noticed their bags gone. He checked the closet, and there they were, empty with the clothes lined up neatly inside.

He moved to the door and heard faint sounds of gunshots and explosions coming from the living room. He peeked and saw James’ profile, controller in hand. The words “GD doesn’t seem to be all that,” coming out of his mouth and Jiyong stopped.

“All what?” Seungri distractedly answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Just, you know? With what you’re willing to do for him, I thought sunshine shone out of his or something.”

“Nah, that would be Taeyang.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Korean joke.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you do get my point, right?”

“He’s actually very handsome, in my opinion.”

“He looks very dead.”

“Hey, be nice. It’s a rough time for him.”

“You’re having a rough time, too, but you don’t look like you’ve been buried six feet under and then some.”

“Should have seen me three months ago. Everyone kept telling me to eat more. Daesung-hyung literally bought me a cupcake or something everyday.”

“Good man.”

“To be fair, I would do the same for you.”

“Sure you would, buddy. But I never cheated on you. Repeatedly.”

Jiyong’s knees buckled. He supported himself by the wall of the dark room and slid his body to the ground. Now he really felt like he was in a Korean drama. He wondered if those characters hurt as much as he did. There was a pain in his chest that caused a blurriness in his sight.

He made himself sick. He was a disgusting person. He wanted to crawl on his knees, scrape the skin off and trail blood if he must, if only to get to Seungri, to cover his ears from some guy’s words of how undeserving he was, no matter the truth of it. He wanted climb on Seungri’s lap and bite the skin of his shoulder, he wanted to sew Seungri’s body onto his – and he stopped thinking there because it was already too dangerous, too insane to be healthy.

He knew that Seungri deserves better than him, that Seungri would have to be ing mental to want Jiyong back, that Seungri was the once in a lifetime chance he let slip through his fingers –

And yet –

And yet –

“Jiyong’s a good man, James. Totally ed up our relationship and broke my heart more often than I could count, but he’s a good man.”

There was a scoff.

“You’re too nice, Riri: you dropped the case against the guy that scammed you–”

“His child had cancer!”

“–You let his friends bully you–”

“I wanted them to like me.”

“–You’re trying to fix the man that broke you.”

“He’s not broken! There is nothing to fix.”

“But you are.”

There was silence.

Then, “This isn’t about me.”

“Sure it ain’t, Ri,” and Jiyong could hear the sigh in his voice. “My driver’s here. Maybe you should wake him up, yeah?”

There was no sound of assent, only a shuffling of feet. Jiyong thought that he should hide, but his knees were still weak and he was too tired of being untruthful to Seungri. Jiyong wanted Seungri to trust him. He wanted Seungri to think he was worth all the effort and hardship and pain.

Futile hopes. Impossible dreams. Stuck and chained in the in-betweens.

Seungri’s words dried in his throat and Jiyong looked up.

Something dangerous bubbled up inside of Jiyong: irrational and unguarded, simmered and made to come to a boil by self-pity and hatred. Seungri reached towards him physically by his hands and metaphorically through words Jiyong couldn’t decipher. He got to his feet and pushed Seungri away. He wasn’t prepared for the sting in the back of his eyes.

“You were bullied?” he yelled, his tone high and bridled with disbelief.

Seungri blinked, clearly in confusion. His mouth worked into shapes that formed nothing coherent.

“Were you?!” Jiyong forced.

Seungri frowned. “Yeah, I was. Why the are you so angry about it?”

Jiyong dragged him into the room and slammed the door. “Because I didn’t know! I could have stopped them!”

The anger that surged through Seungri was unexpected and evident. The lines of his shoulders went rigid; the scowl on his face deepened. “You always had the chance, Jiyong!” he screamed. “Don’t you dare say that they never talked to you about me behind my back! It doesn’t matter if you knew. If you loved me enough, you would have stopped them when you can!”

Seungri pushed past him, strides wide and heading for the front door. “What are you doing?” Jiyong panicked.

“Leaving,” answered Seungri simply, but not without venom and agitation.

Jiyong rushed past him, plastering himself against the wooden escape, body giving up with the fear of being left. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, snapping himself out of whatever angry huff he found himself in. “I wasn’t thinking right, I’m sorry I–”

“Move, Jiyong.”

“–No! Please, please forgive me. Don’t–”

Seungri wrestled him away and Jiyong, in his weak state, was unable to fight back. He was thrown to the floor, then he scurried up to catch up to Seungri’s quickly disappearing form, but someone held him back.

“Chill, GD,” James soothed, a hand on Jiyong’s shoulder. “Seungri will be back. I promise.”

Jiyong pushed him away as he helplessly had to watch Seungri drive off, belatedly registering a man on the passenger seat. “How the would you know?”

“Because, obviously,” James answered like it wasn’t really a problem at all.“He always comes back to you, stupid bloke that he is.”

It had been a while since he had Seungri’s cooking. It had been a really long while. And though Seungri had never been that great at food, it still made him want to cry because he was brought back to the days when Seungri would slave over the stove for him, despite being as busy as he was, just because Jiyong ate out way too often for his liking.

Seungri may have been his father’s son, but he was like his mother in quite some ways too. He was always eating, like her, always wanting to feed everyone and offer up his own food. He thought that maybe it was because he was used to spoiling his little sister with the sweets she couldn’t get away with when they were young, he wasn’t sure. But Seungri had always let him steal his food, wording out protests but no resistance at all.

In fact, the first thing Seungri did when they got in the car on their way to the airport was shove a paper bag at him, filled with a greasy cheeseburger and fries that smelled so good it should have been forbidden. “Comfort food,” Seungri had smiled, “since I’m willing to bet you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” The boy hadn’t been wrong.

It still made him want to cry because if there were one thing he wasn’t selfish about in the relationship, it had been food. Seungri would try his best to make sure Jiyong would come home to a meal – with a loved one to share it with – and Jiyong made sure Seungri tasted the finest dishes in town – feeding him from his own spoon most of the time.

It still made him want to cry because this time, Seungri wasn’t there to share the meal with him.

Jiyong sighed as he put his metal chopsticks down. “I’m done. I can’t eat anymore.”

James looked up from across the table, noticing how little the Korean actually ate. He winced. “Not good?” he asked. “Not too fond of Korean food, myself. But there is other stuff. What do you want? Maybe I can whip you something up.”

Jiyong was ashamed of how hospitable James was, when he’s been nothing more than disrespectful and hostile. “No, thank you,” he tried. “I just don’t have the appetite.”

James shrugged into the tea he was holding. “Clean it up, then. I ain’t doing it for you.”

Jiyong hesitated as he threw the leftovers in the trash when James had scoffed at him, muttering “right,” under his breath. He turned and saw the man watching him, hand under his chin and a smirk on his lips.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?” James went on to say and Jiyong wondered if he should be insulted. The former must have read the conflict in his face as he was quick to clarify, “Oh, no. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. It’s just, Seungri has a habit of hanging out with the rich and acting like the innocent boy from the province. I throw food out too, sometimes, when he’s not around and couldn’t be bothered for actual clean up. All his berating had sunk in at some point, though. Caught myself berating my own kids for it.”

Jiyong smiled, feeling welcomed by the almost-stranger. “Only with food, though. He’s particular about that.”

James agreed with a nod. “Would you like some tea?” he offered.

“Sure,” the other easily accepted, figuring out that he could stomach something light and warm.

He was silent as James courteously prepared it for him – chamomile: warm, fragrant, relaxing, and surprisingly something he needed.

There was silence.

“Listen,” James began slowly, quietly, as if Jiyong was at risk of flying off scared. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but, you’re one of the stupidest motherers I know. I mean, there’s no one quite like Riri, and this is coming from a guy who is madly in love with someone else and who hasn’t known him for a decade, but there’s a reason why we’ve stayed close friends despite seeing each other for only once a year or so.”

Was James expecting a reply, Jiyong didn’t know. But he kept quiet, taking in the truth that he deserved. At least he was being gentle about it, unlike Youngbae who had punched him in Seungri’s behalf.

“I should be mad at you, you know?” James continued wistfully, watching the tea swirl around in his cup. “But if Riri has given you some sort of a chance, then I can’t deprive you of that, can I?”

Jiyong was taken aback. “A chance?”

“Not like that, though.” James smiled sadly. “He’s being protective of you, still by your side when the world has wronged you, right? Don’t get your hopes up, okay, man? Gotta pace it out, if you do want him back.”

“I don’t deserve him back, though,” Jiyong had to admit.

“Amen to that,” James breathed. “But if you do, it’s going to be a long and hard fight.”

Jiyong smiled, bitter and sweeter at the same time. “About time I fought for him, anyway.”

There was a picture of Kiko in his phone, one he has kept for years and one Seungri had always asked him why he kept it. It was a good one, artistic and beautiful, fitting for a woman as enticing as her. It was taken when they went on a summer trip together, secretly, to some island in the Philippines when both of their and faces weren’t that recognizable.

He kept it because it reminded him of his dreams, of wife, kids, stability, and music.

Ironically, though, he has never slept with her, not even once, no matter how blatantly she threw herself at him, no matter how much she dissed Seungri behind his back, actually told him to shut up or off in his face.

Truth be told, she wasn’t the only one who had done that, who had expressly hated Seungri in his presence. His other friends – those outside of Seungri’s circle – did, too. He couldn’t help it; Seungri had always been a guy easily misunderstood. They just needed to get to know him, Jiyong kept saying, and he was right. Some of his friends wouldn’t give his maknae a chance, but those who did stopped whining. Unfortunately, only a few people took a chance on Seungri.

YG was one of those people, and look where that got them. Jiyong swore that the company saved a few and gained some more all because of Seungri’s big mouth.

Seungri, on the other hand, had always known how to surround himself with the best of people. Jiyong has never met a friend of Seungri that didn’t greet him with either warmth or joy. Even James has met him once before, during that Christmas event his maknae hosted a few years back. James had been just as hopeless back then with pronouncing Korean names.

It was probably also the reason why he knew about Jiyong and Seungri. The latter had most likely blabbed about their tragedy once the whole band knew, just as he had an inkling that both F.T. Island and SHINee knew, if the way they looked at him the last time he was on Inkigayo meant anything.

(Jonghoon looked like he wanted to beat him up black and blue. Jonghyun looked at him cold when the guy was naturally anything but.)

Seungri was divinely peculiar like that: he couldn’t regulate what came out of his mouth, so he regulated the people around him instead, unlike Jiyong who tolerated and hung out with people like Kiko.

Still, it wasn’t like he wanted to be with Kiko. In actuality, he felt appalled with the idea of being with someone like her. Albeit he didn’t know exactly why, he just charged it up to the fact that Seungri liked Kiko as much as she liked him, and Jiyong loved Seungri.

He should have taken that as a sign, he realized, that she was never what he wanted – that wife, kids, stability, and music wasn’t what he needed after all.

He had thousands upon thousands of pictures of Seungri on his phone – phones, really,  filled with them and kept preciously safe just because he liked to record every moment he had with his boy. Every facial expression, every reaction, every weird antic, and burst of hyperactivity.

He posts the safest on Instagram, he kept the most intimate to himself.

He looked at them, one by one, and thought Love, Family, Balance, and Life.

He pressed delete on Kiko’s picture. Not that it meant anything.

Well, maybe not anymore.

Seungri forgave him. Again. Unsurprisingly.

He should count himself lucky.

At least, that’s what James had said as he left.

He panicked a little, worried that they’d be left in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, where wolves and ghosts and monsters and whatever else supernatural creature could get them and, okay, he breathed,he was a sane person.

But it turned out, Seungri forgave him and he didn’t even have to say sorry, because before he even got to, he’d apparently been already forgiven.

Maybe the fans were right. Maybe Seungri was a pope or something.

Seungri had asked him for a swim in thee pool outside and the time was well tucking into the night. He was inclined to disagree, but as he floated by the ledge just beside Seungri, both of them half-, he was glad he didn’t.

If Jiyong were to be honest, he felt lethargic, like nothing. Being there with the love of his life, so close yet unable to touch, the younger treating him like nothing happened between them, like they were never in love, as if they were on a vacation and disaster wasn’t happening at home, he was at peace. That is, the most his painful heart could be in while Seungri wasn’t his.

And it made him think of how vile he was. There, submerged in cold and still water, was a monster who liked to dress himself in diamonds and fancy clothes, made pretty just to hide the revolting mess that he trulywas. Maybe the fame had gotten to his head, maybe it was all the money that made him such an elitist, maybe it was all the women and men throwing themselves at him that made him feel so goddamned privileged. Maybe the haters were right. Maybe he was useless. Maybe he was rotten and vile and good for nothing. Maybe he should really just ki–

“Hey, now,” Seungri called as he gently grabbed Jiyong by the neck. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not worth it. You’re more than that, hyung.”

Seungri was close, illuminated by the same light as he was, little droplets of water falling gracefully from his curves and edges, left hand on the ledge. Jiyong wondered why it hurt so much to see his fingers void of any of the rings they got together. Jiyong wondered why he was jealous of the water. Jiyong wondered why the same steady moonlight shone more beautifully on Seungri’s smooth skin.

Jiyong smiled. “And how would you know what I was thinking about?” he challenged quietly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, hyung.” Seungri’s eyes never left his, nor did the hand upon his neck, nor the smile that adorned his lips. “You know why.”

And his heart slowed, as Seungri’s smile was his serenity, Seungri’s eyes were his peace, Seungri’s touch was the balance he needed to counter all the darkness that plagued his mind. Seungri was a wonder boy sent by the heavens as the answer to all his wishes.

Seungri was his.

Was.

And he couldn’t move on. Regret coated his skin and soaked his bones. He was gone too far to ever forgive himself. He was too in love to ever forget.

Seungri deserved better. Seungri was a gem that was too precious to belong to him. Seungri was his everything, and more, and Jiyong threw away his most valued treasure like it was trash.

And yet.

And yet.

Seungri was…

“Too good to me,” Jiyong couldn’t help but whimper. His hands itched for the feel Seungri’s. He took the one wrapped around the back of his neck, laced their fingers and no other was a more perfect fit for Jiyong. “You’ve been too good to me, Ri-ah. How… how can you stand me?”

Miraculously, Seungri held him tighter. “Kwon Jiyong,” he started. “If you think that I’m going to abandon you the moment the world condemns you when you’ve done nothing wrong, then you must have really failed to comprehend my love for you.”

“I… what?”

“Jiyong-ah,” Seungri sighed. “You’re still family. Just because we didn’t work out as lovers doesn’t mean you’re any less of a family to me. I am where I am, I am who I am largely because of you, you know? And I can’t leave you for that.”

Jiyong watched the quiet waters of the pool, blue and shallow compared to the black and deep of the night sky, and he wanted to dive into it to see if it could swallow him whole, welcome him and never let go because he deserved none of Seungri’s kindness – none of it at all and he still was selfish enough to crave for more: love that isn’t familial.

He was selfish enough to crave for Seungri to love him like he used to.

He choked on air, trying so hard to keep himself from crying, from shaking, from letting the intensity of his heartbeat dominate all that he heard. He immersedhis whole self under. He wanted to swim. He wanted to run. He wanted to vanish. He wanted to –

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!” he screamed.

His breath was harsher than the cold air that surrounded them when he emerged. He felt so lost, so out of sync with himself those past few days, weeks (months, because Seungri moving on was his destruction). He still had no idea what to do, how to go on, but he did on where to start.

With both hands on his neck and a thundering heart, he looked to Seungri. The beauty before his eyes wore an amused grin, cheeky and inviting, brilliantly warm against the cold on his skin.

“Let it all out, did you?” Seungri teased. “You better now?”

Jiyong placed himselfin front of the younger. “No,” he replied honestly. “But I am a bit braver.”

The leader placed his hand on the small of Seungri’s back. “Come over to me, Ri,” he urged. “Just a bit closer.”

Seungri stiffened. “H-hyung?”

“Let me have this,”Jiyong pleaded, voice fragile. “I need this.”

Seungri hummed, hesitation obvious in the line of his body, an evasion he only used to employ on stage or in public. Jiyong held his breath, unwilling to take the request back. He was prepared to beg further, desperate words ready to spill from the verges of his tongue, when Seungri relaxed into him, his chest against Jiyong’s chest and head cocked to the side as an open invitation for a kiss on the neck.

Jiyong did, as he whispered his gratitude into Seungri’s hair and as his arms clasped and rested on the maknae’s back.

“You’re so peculiar,” remarked the boy, using an adjective Jiyong has long since forgotten was attributed to him, if it ever was. “You’re the only person I know who takes comfort in holding rather than in being held.”

“Only with you, Ri,” Jiyong answered. He tried to be gentle about it, in pushing his luck with Seungri, testing as to how deep in his waters he could go, as he had always done.

Seungri hummed. His cold fingers tracing around Jiyong’s waist. Jiyong rubbed warmth ontoSeungri, eventually settling in a tighter hold. He tucked the boy deeper into him, nestling his head on the space Seungri has left for him.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Seungri chuckled lightly, an undertone of satisfaction lilting his meaning that Jiyong chose not to interpret. “This quiet… this peace I haven’t had for quite a while.”

The wind howled, assaulting Jiyong with further waves of regret and sorrow. It was his fault, undeniably, why Seungri has nothad peace.

He counted the seconds that passed, those quiet moments for which Seungri let himself be held by the hands that needed to hold him the most.

He shouldn’t have held on. Now he didn’t want to let go, too afraid of losing Seungri for eternity.

“Tell me how to apologize, Seungri,” he croaked, throat dry and eyes wet. “I’ve no words worthy enough to tell you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wish I could take everything back, how I long to have you fully in my arms like this again. Please, tell me.”

Seungri breathed in deeply, wrapped his arms around Jiyong tighter and shivered. “I’m not looking for an apology, Ji. This isn’t about us. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Jiyong murmured, his lips tracing the lines of Seungri’s neck. He should stop, he really should. He was taking advantage of Seungri again, but he was selfish. That was something he couldn’t change. He’d always crave for Seungri’s skin, Seungri’s voice, Seungri’s being. He doesn’t think he could stop, even if he tried. “But this is the only thing I have the heart for. There’s nothing else that matters to me but your forgiveness.”

Seungri was silent. Little quakes travelled from his body to Jiyong’s, sensations too wonderful in echoing how close they were.

“I know I shouldn’t expect to be forgiven,” Jiyong went on, “and maybe I’ve done too much to even hope for it. But please at least let me apologize. Please at least let me prove to you that I’m worth at least that.”

“But I… I don’t think there’s anything else left to say,” whispered Seungri, breath hot and unforgiving. “I finally understood why you broke up with me, and I guess I should have seen it coming, shouldn’t Ihave? You’ve never been certain of me, not fully, and I failed you for not being able to reassure you that I am for you, that you needed me as much as I needed you.”

Jiyong kissed Seungri’s shoulder. “Then let me show you. Allow me to apologize with gestures because there is nothing I want more.”

Seungri’s voice went even softer. “I can’t… I can’t be what you want me to be, hyung. Not so soon. Not – not anymore.”

“I… I understand. Of course, I do,” the leader gave. His fingers started scribbling lines on the muscles of his maknae’s back.“You’ve already done me so much to even let me hold you like this, but I’d still like to show you how sorry I am.”

“You sound like you’re on death row,” Seungri said with a smile and a little chatter of teeth.

“I feel like I am.”

“And the people are executing you?”

“As soon as possible is their verdict.”

“Ah, yes,” sighed the boy. “The harshness of the idol world, huh?”

“Seungri, please–”

“You seem to forget why I’m here, hyung,” the younger cut him off. “You sound like you don’t think you’re worth anything. Just the fact that I’m here with you is a sign that you deserve whatever it is I’m willing to do for you. You’re good man. Just because we didn’t work out, that we broke up so terribly, means that I think that you’re a bad man. Hyung, you’re still one of the most kindhearted people I know. You’re still the hyung that’s willing to help his dongsaengs out whenever he can. You’re still the man who lives with his sister from time to time because you miss her. You’re still the man who calls his mother every Tuesday and Saturday night because you want to know whenever you can visit despite your schedule. You – you’re still the man I fell in love with because even though you make the rarest but the stupidest mistakes, you atone the greatest. You’ll always be so sincere and passionate, the dreamer who kept dreaming even after waking up.”

Seungri was too much; he  was cruel to make Jiyong want him more. How dare Seungri let Jiyong feel good about himself with his words, with his arms wrapped around Jiyong? Seungri was mean and torturous and downright horrible to kill him with kindness.

“, Seungri,” Jiyong breathed. “You really think I’m a good man?”

Seungri’s answer was simple: “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you aren’t.”

There was a loud thunder that must have originated from his heart because the night sky was clear and bright with twinkling stars and the etherealmoon. There was a question he wanted to ask, a question he was too afraid to be answered, one that he would rather not be answered if it meant Seungri’s put right rejection.

So he didn’t ask.

But he did curse, because he was too enchanted by the way Seungri smelled, by the way Seungri’s skin felt hot against his under the cold water, by the way Seungri’s fingers absentmindedly played with his hair. His full heart was beating, drumming mind-numbingly in rhythm with the songs of longing of his soul.

He wanted more of Seungri, to hold him closer, keep him longer, because only Seungri could make him feel like this, like he could take all the sins of the world so long as Seungri was in his arms, being the closest thing to heaven in the world of imperfect men.

He turned Seungri’s head to face him and the moonlight did wonders to the redness of his cheeks. Eyes closed and lashes ally wet, Seungri’s face was void of any make-up. The darkness under his eyes were deep. Fair-skinned and pale-lipped, he was still the most beautiful being Jiyong ever did see.

Jiyong breathed. He breathed and took in Seungri in that private moment, committing him to memory with all of his senses because he was  still very much selfish and very much in love.

He cornered him to edge of the pool and Seungri’s eyes shot open. Framed by the long lines of Jiyong’s tattooed arms, his secret to balancing vita dolce and moderato, was Seungri, eyes unguarded and bright, painfully breathtaking in the ephemeral moment.

“J-jiyong,” he stutteringly whispered, making the older wish they were in bed, getting drunk on each other.

“Seungri,” Jiyong demanded, resolve building in his chest, confident and insecure at the same time. “I can’t run away from what I’ve done. The pictures were clear; to deny them would only reflect negatively on everyone involved.”

Fond understanding appeared on Seungri’s face. The beginning of a smile teased his lips, giving Jiyong energy to spur on. Seungri gave a nod.

“I want to confirm it,” Jiyong voiced, unwaveringly. “I want it to be clear that I’m still who I am, no matter who I kiss, no matter who I love. But before I feed myself to the wolves,” and here it was, Jiyong’s final request – a deathwish, “before I take this step that might end my idol career, I need to ask you. Please be mine. Just while we’re here. Just like before.” He choked. “Just before I resign myself to lose your love along with everything else.”

Seconds felt like hours in that moment when Seungri was silent, quiet as he gazed into Jiyong’s eyes, but the leader was as firm in his request. Jiyong was certain Seungri could feel the harsh beats of his heart, vibrating through his chest, through the water, trying to reach the maknae’s own.

Jiyong just wanted to feel wonderful again before he lost it all.

Then Seungri kissed him – grabbed him by the strings of his shorts, dragged him through the coldness of the water, flushed him against the contrasting warmth of his body, and kissed him, languid andslow, sweet and intoxicating.

Jiyong wanted to cry. His fingers shook with relieved excitement as they cupped The younger’s cheeks, feeling them hollow as his tongue dove in to taste Jiyong’s. His mind settled, as if all he really needed was Seungri in order to start thinking straight, to  see with clarity.

The waters around them swirled as Jiyong pressed into him closer, lifting him against the rock of the pool wall as Seungri’s legs wrapped around him, gifting Jiyong with a moan that made his insides burn with unfathomable want and need.

A miracle, Seungri was gifting him with a miracle, and Jiyong was too happy even knowing that it was temporary, that this didn’t mean what he wanted it to mean, that Seungri was only doing this as a prize for Jiyong’s bravery. But the rapper was willing to fool himself because Seungri was unbelievable kind, so immeasurably amazing when it came to him.

“I won’t let that happen,” he might have heard Seungri groan onto his skin, but Jiyong wasn’t sure. He was too far gone in the divin