The first time Jiyong broke up with Kiko, many years ago, Seungri had been there.

It had been a chilly autumn morning, light breeze sneaking up their spines. Head hung low, Jiyong had kicked at the ground with his shoe and Seungri had put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. I didn’t even like her that much,” Jiyong had whispered. “I like you better anyway.”

And Seungri’s heart had stupidly fluttered as he pulled him into a tight hug.

But Jiyong and Kiko had gotten back together soon after, and Jiyong had somewhat ignored Seungri for a little bit. Seungri realised that he was only the temporary pain reliever, standing in for Kiko until she would crawl back into Jiyong’s arms.

But for all their ensuing breakups, Seungri had been there, right next to Jiyong.

And then had been subsequently pushed away when they got back together.

Time after time, Seungri has been scraped and beaten until he’d bleed. And wounds and bruises can heal, but he’s bound to be scraped and beaten too hard to the point that he’s been skinned to the bone, and oh but his bones are all snapped too, and he just. doesn’t. want. to. keep. going. anymore.

He tells himself each time that it will be the last. The last time he will get hurt.

But Seungri is weak.

Even with nothing returned, he doesn’t know how to un-love Jiyong. It’s way too addictive.  

And he’s bound to be trapped in this cycle forever, hopelessly spiralling into perpetual darkness until he’s completely lost his mind.

~

“Again.”

With every time Jiyong says that word, Seungri feels the ball and chain incarcerating his heart get heavier and heavier.

Again.

With every time Jiyong says that word, Seungri hears the gaping rip in Jiyong’s cool resolve widen, as more hostility seep into his voice.

Seungri flinches slightly, anticipating an onslaught of beratings and cussing to leap out of Jiyong’s mouth. To his relief, it doesn’t come – at least not this time.

Seungri has been standing in the recording booth for the most part of the past three hours, recording his lines for their album’s latest track over and over again, because, he guesses, it’s just never good enough.

The clock’s second hand twitches closer to 2AM, as if mocking the way Seungri’s eye has been constantly on the verge of twitching. His gaze flicks over to where two of his fellow band members are sitting.

Jiyong is raking his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time and Youngbae, who had come into the room an hour ago, is working on his new solo on the other desktop waiting for his turn to record. Looking at them through the glass window makes Seungri feel like a science specimen, being contained in a room and experimented on how far he can be pushed before he snaps.

Seungri is completely used to Jiyong’s perfectionistic ways when it comes to work, but this is cruel on another level.

It’s stuffy, too stuffy, and Seungri’s suffocating in air thick with all the emotions he’s drawn out of himself to put into this recording. Wrapping his hands around his shrivelled heart once more, he wrings out whatever emotions there are left and sings, reassuring himself that this will be the last time…

His voice wavers as he realises that it’s all hollow inside and there’s nothing left in him to give. He stops mid-lyric, feeling lightheaded.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do it again,” Seungri apologises obediently with a bow.

Jiyong opens his mouth to reply, but is stopped by Youngbae’s hand on his arm. Seungri watches Youngbae’s scrunched eyebrows and almost doesn’t notice that he’s speaking to Jiyong because his mouth barely moves, as if afraid that Seungri can hear him. Jiyong squeezes his eyes shut and nods, somewhat painfully.  

“Seungri-yah. Come out.” Jiyong’s voice is breathy in Seungri’s headphones.

A rush of nerves surges through his body as Seungri takes off the headphones and steps out of the booth.

Jiyong speaks in his leader-voice, gaze as hard as jagged rock. “Look, when you start to sing the second line, your voice is too weak.”

Seungri feels weak.

“I acknowledge that you’re trying to express the emotions, but we’ve been at this for three ing hours. Can’t you get it right already?! We have to do all the harmony layers yet you can’t even get the damn main melody right!”

“I’ll work harder,” Seungri says mechanically.

“Jiyong-ah,” Youngbae calls, warning edge to his tone. “It’s because you’ve made him record so many times. He’s getting tired. It honestly sounded really good earlier.”

“No. No, no, no. It wasn’t good enough. It still wasn’t right.” Jiyong shakes his head, slowly at first, then more violently.

“Jiyong-ah.” Youngbae’s voice is steady.

“I’m so ing tired too. But he needs to record again,” Jiyong asserts.

“Look, stop, stop. Give maknae a break. Let’s stop for today. We’ll do my part tomorrow. It’s late, we’re all irritated, so there’s no point continuing now,” Youngbae reasons.

Seungri clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes – he doesn’t really know because he’s falling asleep even while standing up – but when he forces his eyes open again, Jiyong finally speaks.

“Okay.” It comes out as more of a sigh than a word.

Seungri can’t help but feel insulted. He finds it hard to believe that Jiyong had been so persistent in torturing Seungri, but gives in so easily to Youngbae.

But his bubbling anger disintegrates when Jiyong wordlessly unscrews the cap off a bottle of water and hands it to him. The simple gesture extends to his heart and he accepts the water gratefully, downing it all in one shot. 

Seungri glances back at Jiyong. Perhaps Jiyong is finally seeing him as the dishevelled, trembling puppy he feels like, because Jiyong looks at him with eyes like soft stones worn at the edges.

The sound of vibrating slices through the moment and all heads turn to the source. Youngbae swipes his phone off the table and swipes his thumb across the screen to answer.

“Oh, Hyorin-ah.” Jiyong and Seungr