It’s easy to lie to yourself. After all, who are you to say you’re wrong?
And acting, it’s like lying, just another acceptable way to do so. Pretending to be somebody else, living another life, talking and acting like they do, thinking like they do. And that’s supposed to make things easier…right? It’s comforting, the detachment. Because acting is just another one of those instances where you can hide behind a façade. Become someone else. It’s easy. And simple. And safe.

Except, at the end of the day, you’re still you. And I’m still me.

Perhaps I’m thinking too deeply into it.
Perhaps? It’s laughable to even question something so certain.

I lean back into my bed, taking another long drag of the cigarette bit between my teeth and exhale, watching the wisps of smoke expand and disappear before they’re even halfway to the ceiling. Must be nice. I always have had a thing for fragility. When things can only last for so little, they have no choice but to be honest and genuine.

You only lie when you have the time.

“ myself,” I half groan, half laugh. I’m definitely being sentimental. And that bottle of soju from before certainly didn’t help. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it. The comeback performances, the parody we just filmed and finished hours ago, the kisses, and the stupid maknae who probably enjoyed it a bit too much.
Probably? Ha.
And only Daesung could think up something as hilarious as “smelllll~” and only Jiyong could look that ing good in a dress and high heels with the beginnings of stubble still on his chin.

My mind goes blank for a second. I thought about him again. Jiyong. My friend, bandmate, leader, fellow rapper…yeah, that Jiyong.
“…Just like a stupid schoolgirl,” I mutter out loud before I can stop myself.

Hell, we’ve kissed lots of times already. Once before we debuted, when we were punch drunk from dance practice and too high to realize that it was ing gay. Another time was when alcohol was involved. When is it ever not? And the stupid maknae had made a bet that neither of us could seem to refuse. We won it of course, but Seungri wouldn’t leave the damn thing alone for a whole two weeks. And the remaining times, well, it was all just for entertainment; nothing more than fan service.

So why should this time be any different?

It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Why would it be?

A sudden soft knock at my door throws off my train of thought. I quickly sit up, about to say ‘come in’ but the doorknob turns and you enter anyways. What’s the point of knocking then, I want to say. And I normally would, just not tonight. And especially not with the way you’re looking at me right now.

“Hey, can we talk?” your voice a bit thick, and I can’t tell if it’s from the late night or something else.

I want to say something witty, like I always do with Daesung. Something like ‘We already are’. But with you, these things never quite work out. My smart remark somehow hitches in my throat. “Sure,” is all I manage to muster.

You come closer, shuffling your feet just a bit before sitting on the edge of my bed, your light weight barely even making a dip. And anxiously, I put out my cigarette on the ashtray on my side table, even though there was more than a good amount left.

“So,” you ask, carding your hand through your hair, “I came just to see how you were doing.”

“Well, I’m good.”

“It’s just, you seemed kind of out of it today, when acting…with me, well I noticed,” your words spill out from your lips in a jumble, but still confident.

“I guess I was just tired.”

You blink. And I half expect you to say a back handed compliment or some joke, or just something that humiliates me but is funny to you. But you’re nice tonight, probably subdued from being tired yourself. “Hmm, I see,” you say with a soft smile, no sarcasm there, just genuine, as you sit back further onto my bed, eventually positioning yourself so you’re lying down next to me.

You’ve always had a knack for invading personal space, for getting so friendly, so close, so easily. Something I’ve always hated and admired about you. It’s cute but dangerous. Dangerous, because before I even realize, my hand is already the top of your head, fingers trailing over your still wet, lavender smelling blonde hair. And you, you little , being the adoring attention that you are, don’t offer any complaints. But instead just close your eyes and smile slightly.

I want to touch your cheek, see if it’s as soft as your lips. Probably softer. My eyes linger down your pale neck, over your sharp collarbones that poke out of your promiscuous piece of cloth you call a shirt. Yep, attention . But it fits you. And for some reason that escapes me, I like it.

“Hyung,” your voice comes out as a whisper.

“Yeah?” My fingers are now playing with hem of your shirt, revealing the slightest sliver of pale skin at the hip. But your breathing is calm, your face unchanged. And I can’t help but feel as if you don’t even notice what I’m doing, or rather, you don’t care.

“You trembled…,” your eyes suddenly shoot wide open, catching my gaze, and I’m frozen like a ing deer in headlights. You turn your body to face mine, the same smirk still playing on your lips. I wish I could steal it.

“W-what? What do you mean?”

“During our kiss scene, you trembled…when you touched me,” a small pink tongue darts out to at the corner of your lips, teasingly I want to say, but your eyes say otherwise.

“Like I said before…I was tired.” It comes out a bit too stern. But I’m done with this weak excuse of a conversation. I’ve thought about you more than enough for one day. “Actually I was going to bed before you came in, so if you don’t mind—”

“ing liar.” You say harshly, and I almost believe you’re mad. Almost. Because contrary to your spat words, your hand is my cheek and your face is so close I can smell that citrus flavored toothpaste of yours. My mouth opens, urgent to say a retort. But my mind is so transfixed on your lips and the fact that your knee is in between my legs, seeing as you’re now hovering over me, your gaze darker but still shining with the same sincerity, that my jaw quickly shuts, breath caught in my throat, face flushing by the very second. Bastard.

“You trembled. More than once. Through various takes.” Your smile widens, finally reaching your eyes. “And here I thought I was the nervous one.”

I’m dead and gone and long buried. Because this is a dream, it has to be. There’s no way that Jiyong, ing Jiyong, is this close to me…insinuating…whatever the hell you are. Our bodies, just inches from being flushed, and our noses, literally touching now.

“W-what are you d-doing…Jiyongie?”

And for the first time today, your façade finally drops, your smile disappears completely, the happy wrinkles around your eyes fade, replaced by dark circles. Your face flushes just the slightest bit as teeth bite into your bottom lip.
You never looked more beautiful.

“You know exactly what I’m doing…something you’ve always been afraid to…something we both want. Isn’t it?”


And your lips fall into mine, and its soft and slow, the way you move them, slipping your tongue in so easily against mine. You’re testing the waters. Not wanting to go further than what each of us wants. What I want.
But you’ve already called me a coward and, well, I don’t want to prove you right.
My hands slip over your shoulders. One hooks around your neck as the other finds firm purchase in your blonde locks. I lean upwards to deepen the kiss, clearly taking you by surprise. I can tell by the small ‘oh’ you breathe into my mouth.

It’s not like any kiss we ever had before. It’s beyond what we’ve done, everything we’ve been. Eventually your hold weakens and you fall on top of me, flushing our fronts, unavoidably grinding our hard ons. Like that’s a surprise. It’s pliant, and warm, and somehow easy…the way we move. Like it was always meant to be this way.
You’re right, I was a coward.

Minutes later, or perhaps hours, sleep eventually wins out over lust. Now content in just lying with each other, your head on my chest, rising and falling with each heavy breath of mine. And you’re not smiling; I’m thankful. Instead you have a pout. You’re uncertain of where this will lead, of what we are now. Not you and me anymore. We.
And I’m scared too.

“What are you thinking?” you eventually say, your eyes closed as sleep begins to draw you in.

I decidedly tighten my arm draped around you, pulling in a deep breath before I start. “I’m thinking of you…and your lips…and how good they taste…and how familiar they feel, almost nostalgic, like this really good tea I used to drink when I was little. It was a milk tea.”

You blink open your eyes, raising an eyebrow at me.

I continue, “A-and I’m thinking about…how I’m running out of time—”

Your patience apparently running thin from tiredness, you shut me up with a kiss. And all I can think is thank god.


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A/N: Weird POV from awkward Seunghyun's head. And apparently not one of my better fics.... >_< (sorry~)