heavy gif is heavy e_e

boat behind by kings of convenience (but come on, just listen to the whole playlist while you read)

! Sunggyu-centric. Language(?) [i don't think so but oh well, just in case]

I could never belong to you

During Christmas season, usually, the city streets are covered in white and, ironically, full of bright colors according to the holidays. There are also hundreds of foreign faces flooding streets, hotels, and restaurants. For example, the familiar restaurant where Sunggyu works is usually crowded with people who want to have a good time, being tourists or locals. Stores are the main destinations, with people coming and going for their season necessities and, if they're lucky, one or two Christmas whims.

But when winter holidays are over, the only thing left is an empty shell; an incomplete city full of white. Tourists are gone and locals are back to work. People keep going on with their lives; some making progress with their new year's promises, some others breaking them at the next day. Of course, not a lot of people stop to contemplate the fact that seasons change, and while they're at it, an empty space in time is created. There are some, however, who take their time to sit and analyze events as trivial as the change of the seasons.

Sunggyu wants to think he's one of those because, after all, he has all the time in the world to notice. He's spending his life behind a counter of the bar from his family's restaurant and watching life come and go. There are tears and smiles, words and fights; there are hushed whispers and meaningful glances, too. He sees them all when customers come and sit, expecting the world to take care of them and treat them like the kings (and queens) they think they are, while still worrying about their world-end problems.

But Sunggyu, being a mere commoner who happens to work for his parents in a job that will probably haunt him until he finds something better (which is highly unlikely) or die, can't blame them. If he were to have someone to talk with, he would also stay and tell the story of his not-really-so-tragic and burdensome life. But since he doesn't, and the spots the glasses of soda and beer left when they're put on the counter are always waiting for him to clean, he is resigned to keep his mouth shut and a cheerful smile on the lips while a girl no older than eighteen tells him the story of her life while he wonders when will spring come.

Well, at least he's warm during winter and cool during summer.

Sunggyu can't fool anyone. He wants to believe he's especial, a hidden talent no one has seen before. But the truth is that he's only a boy who has to take out the trash after he's done playing the guitar and belting a couple of notes on the small stage on the restaurant. It's almost twelve; the place is closing soon. The air is still cold, so he still needs to wear a jacket and gloves of a color he hates. After all, it's still that awkward stage between the change of seasons, where snow is not falling anymore, but there's still that lack of green scenery.

Oh, well. It's not like you can find much green on the city anyway.

"Remember to put the chairs back up when you finish," his mother says when he enters back. She has her own nice gray coat and mittens on. Apparently, he has to close. "I'll be going."

He nods as a response. She comes close and kisses him on the cheek. It's brief, and not lovingly altogether, but Sunggyu can't expect any further anyway. When she's gone, he's left alone in the warm and empty local. Sighing, he moves the chairs up. If he were the owner, he would hire more staff to help, or at least, not those noisy highschoolers who work part-time and enjoy the perks of going home early. He himself doing almost everything is not enough.

Alas, his mother has the tendency to be stingy, just like certain person he remembers once in a while, and he has to be left over with doing all the closing before heading upstairs to the small cramped room located on top of the restaurant.

But he can't complain. This is the life he chose. He has his guitar and his songs and a windowsill where he can see the city lights and breathtaking nights of Seoul. Essentially, everything that keeps him going.

Besides Woohyun, but that's a different matter.

It's not funny how coincidences appear when you least expect it. Seriously, it's not.

Just last night the brief thought of Woohyun crossed his mind and what happens? The decides to appear right in front of him asking for a café latte.

"Should I remind you that this is not one of those overrated franchises for hipsters or you're going to do it yourself?" Sunggyu replies with his best unimpressed look. Woohyun grins, but says nothing. He leans forward on the counter with a soft glance. Sunggyu sighs, defeated. "Black coffee will be, then."

Woohyun sits more comfortably in front of him, watching with interest how the coffee falls from the pot to the cup and leaves a faint trail of stream. He blows the stream towards Sunggyu's direction, amused. Sunggyu feels the scent of coffee invading his nostrils and sends him a quick look. Just like a teenager, he thinks.

He hasn't changed at all, for what Sunggyu sees. Of course, his features are more mature than two years ago, and he doesn't have that long and sick brown hair. But his expression is still soft and occasionally mocking, just like when they were in high school.

"So," Sunggyu tries—fails—to act casual, "how long are you staying?"

"Just for the weekend."

"And where?"

"Your place." He flashes a cheeky smile.

Sunggyu wants to hit him, and with what he considers the best intentions, chase him away. After all, who does he think he is to come and stay like it's home for the weekend? But then Woohyun flashes another of his thousand-dollar smiles, and Sunggyu loses his line of thought for a second. Wow, Woohyun still has those pearl white canine teeth.

The second Sunggyu loses to wonder about the toothpaste Woohyun might be using is more than enough for the other male to snatch a couple of sugar packets and the pot of coffee back to serve him more. When Sunggyu realizes he's been a second too late, he's about to yell him to pay because what I serve you is what you drink. But then his mother enters and ruins everything. As usual.

She shrieks, more excited to see Woohyun than she's ever been for anything that Sunggyu's done. Of course, he wouldn't blame her. After all, she only sees the man every what, leap year? More or less like Sunggyu.

They engage in conversation rather quickly, ignoring Sunggyu's existence for the time being. He grows bored with watching them talk and decides to switch with one of the part-timers. He prefers to clean tables than to be next to those people. While he cleans, he can hear snippets of the conversation, like the usual "how have you been," or "where are you staying" and "Sunggyu offered me his place"(this cheeky bastard), but decides to ignore them. What is he going to gain with eavesdropping?

People come and stay, Sunggyu takes their orders and serves them, they leave and Sungyu is left with poor tip and a polite smile stitched to his face. By the time he's done with the last customer for the afternoon, Woohyun is still setting there, drinking coffee. That freeloader, finishing up coffee other customers would pay for. He talks with the guy at the counter once in a while (the pretty high school boy called Sungjong) but most of the time stares into space and drinks, shooting a celebrity smile to the girls passing by next to him.

Sunggyu unintentionally keeps stealing glances of Woohyun. It's not like it's his favorite activity of the day, but it's not like he can help it either. Physically, the man has changed a lot in these past two years, although he’s still younger (and a few centimeters shorter) than Sunggyu. His face has become more mature, his jaw is sharper, and finally his hair is held in a proper place instead of the mess it was before. His eyes are calmer now, but Sunggyu can catch a glimpse of the wildness from the past, hidden. There is something new, though. His accent is slightly different. This is the boy from years ago who decided to "look around the country" and Sunggyu doesn’t know what to think anymore.

"You know, this is not a bar." Sunggyu leans next to him, softly hitting him with the piece of fabric he was cleaning the table with. "You can't go on hitting on girls like it's the most normal thing in the world. Have some decency, please."

"Jealous?" Woohyun looks at him with a mischievous smile.

Sunggyu snorts, as if the mere thought of himself being jealous amuses him. Woohyun might have changed physically, but mentally is still that teenager craving for attention (affection) he knows since they were in high school.

"You want to know what she said, don't you?" Woohyun asks. Sunggyu blinks and realizes something. God knows when, but Woohyun, the sly dog, sneaked his arm around his waist without him noticing. He slaps the arm, annoyed at the man for being so irritating, and at himself for drifting off so easily when Woohyun is next to him.

"Why bother? It's the same as always anyway." Sunggyu shrugs, trying to act indifferent. The truth is, he does want to know, but there's no way he's giving that to Woohyun. Besides, the man is most likely to have realized that by now, judging by how long it took for him to answer. "Whatever. What do you want for dinner?"

"Is Jinchun ahjussi's dukbokki stand still there? I haven't had that in like, years."

"We are in a restaurant, Woohyun. There's no way I'm buying you snacks from other places when you have food in here."

Woohyun never tells him what did his mother say, and he ends up buying the dukbokki anyway.

Woohyun kisses him at the moment they step into the small room Sunggyu dares to call home. The younger man takes advantage of the fact that Sunggyu is carrying bags with both hands and cups his face, claiming hushed love stories and romance poems as he leans forward. His lips are soft, moist; just like Sunggyu remembers. They taste like the coffee he was drinking earlier, with a faint tint of the dukbokki sample they were given.

They kiss softly, without the boundaries and edges time forces upon them. Woohyun pushes forward and forward until Sunggyu's back gently hits the door. There's something sincere on his actions, on his unspoken I'm sorrys and I love yous, that makes Sunggyu uneasy, but he brushes off the feeling, pressing himself further against the warmth that welcomes him. Woohyun smiles against the kiss, and this time is not his usual twisted grin. It's a soft, barely distinguishable, curl of lips.

He breaks the kiss, leans forward for another soft peck, and turns to the table in front of Sunggyu's bed.

"I missed you too."

(He hates Woohyun's once-in-every-two-years visits. They're brief and before Sunggyu manages to catch a glimpse of the other male and make a memory, he's already packing back his things to go somewhere around the country again. He also hates them because they leave him with less than a fragment of Woohyun's playful smirk and soft lips and warm skin. He hates them because when they're over, Sunggyu has stacks of nostalgic thoughts to sing about and guitar cords composed by no other than Nam Woohyun himself. Oh, and two more years to refine his (their) songs before the male comes back home.

Oh, and the cycle goes on and on.)

Woohyun sleeps next to him, snoring loudly. They barely fit together on his small bed, and Sunggyu has to fight for the covers every ten minutes. But Woohyun's arms are comfortable to sleep in and, as much as Sunggyu hates it (him), he has to admit the younger male's body fits somewhat perfectly with his own.

Sunggyu sighs. He untangles from the maze Woohyun's limbs create, and tries to stand up. After gazing at the clock, he realizes it's still early; he doesn't have to open the restaurant yet. Through the window covering almost completely one of his walls, he sees sun is about to rise up. The fact that the earth changes and sunrises aren't always at the same time bothers him as much as that whole concept of the change of seasons does, but he can't do anything about it. Instead, he grabs his guitar, carefully placed next to Woohyun's bags, and sits on the windowsill.

He doesn't sing. Instead, he only plays a soft melody he doesn't remember from anywhere with absent-minded movements. Woohyun wakes up at the sound, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He stands up, gingerly, and searches for his white shirt thrown in the floor. When he finds it, he shakes it up a bit, and puts it on. His movements are, although lazy, composed. He envies that about Woohyun, the ability to mold himself in every kind of situation. With a pang of dull ache, Sunggyu wonders how many times has the other male has acted with such calm after waking up in another person's bed.

But before his line of thought can't continue with the negative trend, Woohyun walks towards him and climbs to the mahogany surface. The windowsill is not big, but it's enough for two people to sit.  Woohyun pushes Sunggyu forward, and ignoring the hey, watch out with the guitar, and sits cross-legged behind the older male, wrapping his arms around the waist and pressing Sunggyu's back towards his chest. Sunggyu’s halfhearted protests go ignored by him; lost like the weak and not true altogether pleas of go away and stop from years ago went. Woohyun buries his face on the curve of his neck, placing butterfly kisses along the nape.

Sunggyu gives up with the clingy male and continues playing with the same enthusiasm from minutes ago. On times like these, he wonders what's Woohyun's mind. The younger male is—has ever been, and probably will keep being—different. He laughs often and craves for attention and adoration, but still puts walls between himself and people. Sunggyu, ever since the moment he saw the freshmen walking into the music room with confidence (and at the same time, almost screaming hey, look at me) during his junior year, knew he was one of its own. Woohyun is more likely to be aware of that, but whether he sees it as a flaw or a strength is beyond Sunggyu.

"I don't know what are you thinking of, but keep on doing it if you're so kind," Woohyun mumbles close to his ear. His voice is deep and scratchy, but has that playful warning that holds a serious tone on the edges. It's then when Sunggyu realizes the hand holding him around the waist has sneaked under his shirt and dangerously close to the band of his sweatpants.

"Keep your hands off me," he says, grabbing the adventurous hand. Then, Woohyun turns his wrist with a curious movement, and Sunggyu's hand is trapped between his. His other hand sneaks until it grabs the guitar and places it outside the platform. The sound it produces when touching the floor echoes through the apartment, and Sunggyu instinctively twitches his head towards the sound. Woohyun chuckles—voice still deep and lazy—at the action.

"I want to know what you're thinking," Woohyun says.

'So do I', Sunggyu thinks.

When he turns around to face him, and the lips that encounter his are, as always, warm and soft. Sunggyu struggles at first, but who is he fooling if not himself? Sunggyu wants to kiss Woohyun as much as the younger wants to kiss Sunggyu.

The contact feels foreigner and yet familiar. It reminds Sunggyu that Woohyun is leaving soon—probably today, tomorrow—; that the possibility of him staying for more than a week is chimerical as its best; that Woohyun might forget him as soon as he steps out from the room; that the snow hasn't come in days; that time is around the corner, with spring and the concept of aging clinging to its arm. But more than anything, it reminds him of his tendency to overanalyze and his inability to break the routine.

Sunggyu opens his eyes, wondering when did he close them, and stares—as much as he can stare, given the uncomfortable position—at Woohyun, who gives him a quizzical look. He shakes his head, as if that will help him getting rid of his thoughts, and turns around. Woohyun doesn't let go of his hand at first, thinking that Sunggyu will go away (as if he ever could) but Sunggyu manages to turn and intertwine their fingers. He leans fully on Woohyun's chest, thinking 'the wall must not be very comfortable' and 'Woohyun's back will hurt later', but not making an attempt to move.

They stay in silence for a while, waiting for something, who knows what. Sunggyu closes his eyes and focuses on something else, like Woohyun's calm heartbeat that is nothing like a familiar song, or his scent that is entirely his and impregnated on Sunggyu's memory.

'So do I', Sunggyu thinks again. He truly wants to know Woohyun—to understand him—more than anything.

Woohyun sighs, chest rising and slightly pushing Sunggyu. When the elder looks up, he sees the sunlight brightening all the imperfections on his face that make him perfect. There's a soft stain of dukbokki on the corner of his cheeks because the idiot forgot to wash his face last nigh and a scratch from what could have been a pimple years ago, along another hundreds of thousands things. He sees the dark brown eyes looking through the window, probably lost between the streets of Seoul, or somewhere near the costs of Busan. How knows? Maybe he's just looking at the shell of the city without being somewhere in particular.

But if something is clear, is that Woohyun is—has been, will be—not here; at least not like Sunggyu is. He doesn't face customers on a daily basis, nor he listens to every plea for attention or whine about a bad day. No, he comes for a while and stays, but is gone too early for Sunggyu to start getting used to him and too late not to leave a footprint, like the seasons. He's a season on his own.

At the end, Sunggyu doesn't say anything. It's not because he doesn't want to, nor because he's scared of the outcome. It's solely because he doesn't know how. Woohyun stays with his own thoughts and so does Sunggyu. As it's happened since years ago, the "I want to know what you think" goes ignored, and when Woohyun is gone—when his warmth is gone—Sunggyu is left with nothing but unfulfilled promises and unrequited dreams.

And the cycle goes on and on.

why can't i write fluff ;A;

for some reason i feel like i was going to say something, but then i forget. oh well. i'll use this space to thank you (again) for still reading this. i was thinking that maybe i'll mark this compilation (collection, whatevs) as 'complete' when it reaches 10 chapters. also, because i'll stop updating weekly (i have stuff to do you don't want to read about) besides, the sole existence of kim sunggyu and his red hair is still… distracting me.