To You (Things I'll Never Get To Say)
To You (Things I'll Never Get To Say)
Maybe you should listen to this while reading.
只剩下钢琴陪我谈了一天
Only the piano stays to talk to me today
I guess it’s just you and me today again, huh, Sungjong sighs as he lets his slender fingers dance over the black and white keys of the piano.
On days when everything was too much to handle, this is where he found his comfort – on a soft, velvet-covered bench, in front of a companion that has never let him down. He creates a melody that mirrors all his pent-up emotions in hopes that someone would care enough to listen.
He plays and lets himself get lost in thoughts of the person who he wishes could hear everything his heart was dying to say.
“Ya! Lee Sungjong!”
The maknae looks up from the script he was reading as his ears register the insistent voice shouting his name.
“What?” He says, half annoyed, half anticipating because that voice, he could recognize it anywhere. His eyes meet with another pair; one that he personally thinks holds the most soul among all the other pairs of eyes he’s seen in his 20 years of life – and that’s saying a lot given the nature of their job.
You really can’t win against his eyes, Sunggyu once said. Sungjong scowls inwardly because damn it’s true. It was an entirely different experience, being the subject of Kim Myungsoo’s intense gaze.
The said guy steps closer to where the other is sitting and smiles a silly, childish grin. “Let’s go somewhere, I’m bored,” he says, yanking Sungjong’s arm while the latter struggles to pull away.
“Go bother someone else, hyung. I’m doing something.” The younger then waves the thick bulk of paper in the other’s face.
“It doesn’t make sense to bother anyone but the maknae,” Myungsoo replies stubbornly and swats Sungjong’s script away. “Besides,” he continues with a teasing snigger, “who ever casted you in that drama is going to regret it. Big. Time.”
Sungjong rolls his eyes and not-so-subtly steps on his hyung’s foot.
“OW!!”
He ignores Myungsoo’s anguished face, stands up and beams at him. “Your treat!” He skips toward the door and feels the other’s arm around his shoulders several seconds later.
Sungjong stiffens ever-so-slightly and smiles contentedly to himself.
You feel so warm, Myungsoo-hyung.
Always so warm.
He doesn’t understand why people say he looks distant and cold. He’s not, he muses in his head. Deep and searching but never cold. His eyes are warm, his hands are warm, being around him feels so warm.
The melody of the song he’s playing progresses and he thinks, it’s really not a wonder why girls fall head over heels in love with him.
So mysterious, and princely, and fascinating, and so, so unreachable. He’s the closest thing to perfect there is and I don’t even think he realizes how much he can affect people.
Myungsoo has always been oblivious. Myungsoo is still oblivious.
Sungjong observes him during one of their photoshoots, eyebrows knitted closely together. He watches him play with the coordi noona’s braid, at some point leaning in to smell her shampoo. All the women in the set, married ahjummas included, are ogling longingly at him, yet there he is, behaving like a 5-year old kid fascinated by all the little things. You couldn’t accuse him of flirting; he probably doesn’t even notice he’s making the noona blush redder than a blood-red cherry.
Myungsoo this, Myungsoo that, the ladies go. And of course, Myungsoo would be more than willing to amuse the staff and just be, you know, all over the place. Apparently being the center of attention required lots of your attention too.
Sungjong sits in a corner, a peaceful one in comparison to Myungsoo’s swarm, and plays games on his mobile phone while he waits for a stylist to start fixing his hair. He would deny it, if anyone asks, but his eyes would always find their way back to where his hyung was, more times than he bothered to count.
He sees Myungsoo’s uncharacteristically blank eyes fixated on an imaginary spot on the wall. He realizes he’s staring. Myungsoo realizes he’s staring.
Their eyes meet; not long enough, not romantic enough, all the older does is wink playfully.
Sungjong catches his breath and looks away because he knows he’s probably blushing. Myungsoo just shrugs with a smirk and continues staring at his wall.
Minutes later, when he deemed it safe, Sungjong eyes him again.
Look at me, too.
Bright and hopeful.
Hyung’s eyes are bright and hopeful and always so full of emotion. The way his eyes look at you makes you feel safe, Sungjong takes a deep breath, all the while seeing Myungsoo’s face behind closed eyelids. And it makes you wish he’d never look away again.
Whoever he falls in love with is going to be really lucky. He smiles a bitter smile. He’s never going look at anyone else the way he’d look at her. She’s going to be the luckiest girl I know.
And I’ll be here. Watching. The melody softens and he thinks, there’s really nothing else to do but watch.
“What are you looking at?” Myungsoo asks with an amused expression. Sungjong’s eyes widen in surprise after being caught staring. Again.
They are in Sungjong and Hoya’s shared bedroom, waiting for the dinner Dongwo and Woohyun are in charge of making. The younger is sitting idly in bed, once in a while pinching his bear’s fluffy cheeks. Myungsoo is on the opposite side, strumming random tunes on his guitar.
“Your, umm, the color of your shirt is distracting,” he answers with a cough.
“White is distracting?”
“No … I mean, yes! Yes. It’s distracting when it’s on you. Because I seldom see you wear anything besides black.” Nice save, Lee Sungjong.
“Oh.” The older deadpans, unconvinced. He then purses his lips in thought. “Do you find me attractive?”
“WHAT?” Sungjong chokes on nothing.
“Well, you’ve been watching me for quite some time now.”
The maknae recovers early enough to think of a reasonable response, “That’s because I like watching you play your guitar.”
“Ah,” Myungsoo looks right at him and Sungjong wonders if it really is possible to see through someone’s soul. “Would you like me to sing you a song, then?”
Sungjong nods quietly, secretly cursing the way these little things make him flush nervously.
“But first,” the older playfully wiggles an eyebrow at him.
“Hmm?”
“You really don’t find me attractive?”
“Hyuuuuung,” Sungjong whines and Myungsoo chuckles muttering arasso, arraso.
Myungsoo strums the first few notes of Sungjong’s favorite song on his guitar and the latter can’t help but feel all tingly inside. And can you smile, a soft, soothing voice sings. The maknae closes his eyes and does the only logical thing to do at that time – smile.
Your everything is attractive.
Beautiful. Sungjong would use this to describe his hyung when he feels that 'attractive', or any other adjective for that matter, isn’t enough.
From the way your messy hair frames your face gorgeously when you wake up in the morning to the way you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping, everything about you is beautiful.
He doesn’t notice how his fingers create a melody that sings of a tragic first love; unrequited, unappreciated.
I know it’s selfish but sometimes I can’t help but wish you’d belong to me and only me. Your deep brown eyes, your weirdly appealing laugh, your warm fingers, I wish I could have them all to myself.
But I also know there are countless other people that want you the way I do. And for all I know they can give you much more than I can.
The song reaches its . Sungjong pleads. Can’t it be me, hyung? Can’t you choose me?
Myungsoo is sandwiched between the maknae and Sungyeol in the backseat of their van. His head is hanging low, sometimes leaning on one side. Sungjong looks at him, concern evident in his watchful gaze. He knows the other got home late last night and barely had any rest. Now they were being dragged to another early schedule.
As he sees Myungsoo’s head hit Sungyeol’s shoulder, Sungjong gets this weird urge to tuck him back in his bed in their dorm and drape a blanket around him so he could sleep as much as he wanted. Discomfort was etched all over his usually unblemished features and Sungjong so badly wanted to reach out and touch his hyung’s face to smooth out the troubled lines.
“Ugh. He’s heavy,” the other hyung suddenly complains. He removes L’s head on his shoulders and pushes it to Sungjong’s direction none-too-gently. “Let him sleep on you instead.”
Myungsoo opens his eyes and offers a small, drowsy smile in Sungjong’s direction. “Can you be my pillow,” he says more than asks, and proceeds to snuggling on the maknae’s shoulder.
Sungjong gets the tingly feeling he’s come to associate with Infinite’s visual and looks down at the boy leaning on his shoulder. Lines of discomfort disappearing, small smile still ghosting on his lips. He thinks Myungsoo looks best like this – peaceful, smiling, beside him. He rests his head on top of the other and waits for sleep to conquer him too.
His fingers slow down as he plays the closing notes, and just like that day in the van, right before he fell asleep, there was room for one last thought.
I love you, Kim Myungsoo.
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