2015

“Move, or you’ll be moved.”
 
“Hyung, are you drunk already?”
 
“Yah. I’m not that weak. Move, that’s my spot.” Seungri only blinked at him for a moment, asking himself if they were suddenly back in kindergarten and not successful idols about to watch their newly released music video. It’d become some sort of a tradition to watch them together and that day they’d decided to raid Daesung’s house, thing the latter had not appreciated that much and the reasons why were very clear in that moment, considering the maknae and Seunghyun were already fighting over the stupidest argument and that neither of them was sober.
 
Jiyong walked in like nothing was happening and sat straight down into Seungri’s lap, looking up at the older in front of them with a bright smile, who responded only by rolling his eyes, muttering something about the two of them being always annoyingly glued to each other as if they were attached by the hip.

The leader informed him that was the only way to sit where the maknae was, since he was really stubborn when he wanted to be; ‘I’d rather sit on the floor’ was the summary of the answer he got, even if the real one was about four paragraphs of mumbling uncoherent words and half-swearing.

Youngbae was sitting on the other end of the couch, the farther away he could from the others, unwilling to find himself in an embarrassing situation again, patiently waiting for their host to set up the screen where they would be watching the video. 
 
When he finally reached them, he sat down beside Jiyong and Seungri, as if he wasn’t the slightest bothered by how clingy they were to each other, gaining a glare from Youngbae, who did not approve of the whole situation.

Seunghyun was staring in front of himself, extremely annoyed and wondering why he wasn’t drinking alcohol at the moment, since he’d thought there would be more; he got back to his senses only when Daesung grabbed his arm and pulled him down on the couch near him, smiling widely, his eyes disappearing into little crescents.

He suddenly thought that he was perfectly fine without drinking anything, because he was with his brothers, and it was enough to have fun; he settled himself and focused his attention on the screen.

He still hadn’t seen the complete version of the music video; he roughly knew what the others’ parts were about, since he still remembered when Jiyong had called him at an unholy hour in the night and had asked him how he would describe his greatest fear (it’d taken him about three days to answer that question and he still wasn’t sure if it made sense). He’d barely been able to figure himself out, so, he actually had no idea what the others had filmed, because he couldn’t guess what dwelled into the darkest part of their soul; moreover, they hadn’t talked about it a lot, maybe because some secrets are better kept, or at least not said out loud.
 
It wasn’t difficult to him to understand the leader part, maybe because he was the one he knew the best, maybe because they were more similar to each other than they liked to admit; it could only be explained with the fear of not knowing.

He was someone who always knew what he was doing, always saw an objective in front of himself and put his everything into trying to reach it, and it only made sense that he was scared of wandering helplessly through life without knowing where he was going or what he wanted, losing meaning in existence.

He always destroyed himself for art, for his dream, that he was terrified he would lose everything and be left completely empty, completely alone, abandoned by everyone because he couldn’t be who he used to be anymore.
 
As for Youngbae and Seungri, the meaning was out there in the open to see, it wasn’t hidden behind complex metaphors or seemingly insignificant details; it wasn’t easy to understand either, but he knew them well enough to get what they were afraid of, what they’d been trying to bare for others to see.

The first was afraid of committing sins he could never be forgiven for, but he couldn’t really get into his head to know what he was thinking about, what kind of violation he was thinking of; he was afraid he was going to take a step wrong and be rejected by all the people he knew, forced to live like an outcast with nothing but the memory of the mistakes he’d done, losing his meaning of life, losing his will to live if he couldn’t be accepted by the people he loved anymore.

The maknae was clearly afraid of falling in love (and he couldn’t blame him, he had to admit it), he was afraid he would find himself cheated on and left completely alone, miserable and angry to fight against everything he’d thought was his, but had been slipping through his fingers for all that time; if only he’d noticed how Seungri’s arms had locked around Jiyong’s waist and were holding him tightly, he would’ve understood the real reason why he was so afraid of love, of losing who he loved, maybe just because he wasn’t even supposed to have them in the first place.
 
He tried not to look at his bandmates while his part rolled by, mostly because he was embarrassed, but also because he was sure they couldn’t understand it, considering he didn’t really know what he’d been doing, not exactly, and he wanted to spare himself an awkward conversation. The conclusion which he’d gotten to after the time he’d given himself to think about it was that he was afraid of being alone and maybe that was something everyone was afraid of; you could think his fear was the same as Seungri, but he wasn’t afraid to fall in love.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t fall in love, he never had. He knew perfectly there was something wrong in him, in his head, and he didn’t know how to fix himself, he didn’t even think it was possible; he’d cared for many people before, but the fact that he couldn’t properly love them had always been an obstacle and had always ended with him being left alone and miserable again, asking himself why he was never right for anybody.

He always destroyed his relationships, probably because nobody wanted to take him just as he was and always pushed him to show parts of himself he would’ve preferred to keep hidden, because he knew they would hate him and leave him once they found out he wasn’t as charming as they initially thought he was, that he wasn’t perfect, that he was damaged.
 
When Daesung appeared on the screen, he completely stopped breathing and didn’t remember he had to for the for the following seconds; after that, he wasn’t able to focus on what was happening in the video, and maybe he couldn’t care less. His mind started racing and filling with dark thoughts he didn’t want to have but was unable to push away, guided by his own voice mixed with Seungri’s.
 
‘Loser, loner. A coward who pretends to be tough
A mean delinquent. In the mirror, you’re
Just a loser. A loner, a jackass covered in scars’
 
He tried to swiftly turn around, just wanting to check on Daesung, but he couldn’t divert his eyes from him, couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen; he wouldn’t have hurt so bad if he wasn’t such a good actor, he’d been able to feel his agony and he’d felt heartbroken, so much he’d wanted to carve his heart out of his own chest so he had to stop feeling like this.

He couldn’t think properly, he was overwhelmed by a fear that wasn’t even his; maybe what hurt the most was knowing perfectly that it wasn’t only what he was afraid of, it was part of his reality. He was afraid of being rejected, of being hated, of being an outcast, of being unable to protect himself and that had happened before; he wasn’t an irrational fear, it was a mirror of what had already happened. It wasn’t difficult to remember those times when he couldn’t even look somewhere on the internet without finding someone who called him ‘monster’, ‘murderer’, ‘disgrace’; people who wanted him gone, people who wanted him to rot in prison and people who wanted him to die.

If it was hard for him to remember, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it was for him; that was something that would never leave him, because, maybe, he’d even believed those people, he’d thought they were right. And that explained why, in the video, he had those scars around his neck, because, when he’d been alone in a hostile world, abandoned even by them, with no one to protect him from the thoughts in his head and his guilt, he’d believed that the only way was disappear forever from an existence which hated him.
 
He wanted to say something, wanted to reach out for him and hold him, wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright again and again and again and that he would never be alone, that he would always have him whatever happened; and, yet, all he could do was stare at him in silence, waiting for the music to fade out and to take that suffocating sadness with it.

Right before the end of the video, Daesung turned slightly around and noticed him; he offered him a soft and bitter smile and Seunghyun felt his heartbeat speed up considerably, and he didn’t know why. Maybe he was because of the embarrassment he was feeling, or maybe because he knew he needed to talk to his dongsaeng but he didn’t know where to start and he knew he couldn’t do it now, while they were surrounded by their friends and everything seemed fine, even if the atmosphere was heavy. Suddenly, Jiyong’s voice broke the awkward silence that had filled the room in the past four minutes, and it was clear that he’d noticed that something was going on and had maybe regretted his idea of watching it all together, so he tried to brighten the mood, with a mischievous expression on his face:
 
“So, do you want to watch BAE BAE?”

- - - 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to move from the couch until he got a chance to speak with Daesung, because an unpleasant feeling had settled in his heart and there was only a way to break free from it, since he knew what had caused, even if he wasn’t able to give it a name.

He patiently waited for him to come back from dismissing the others, unsure if he knew he was still there at all, trying to find the words to say; he’d noticed Jiyong glancing at him with a strange look (it’d seemed similar to the one he had on his face when he was clearly thinking about something he knew and you didn’t) before dragging Seungri behind him without not much more than a ‘bye’.
 
“You decided to live here now?” he stared at his dongsaeng from where he was lying as he stopped by the couch looking down at him with an amused smile on his face, as if he couldn’t imagine the real reason why he was still there when everyone else had left; he’d thought he knew him better by now, he’d thought he knew how selfish he was and that he wouldn’t let the subject drop so easily, even if it made both of them uncomfortable.

He didn’t answer anything until Daesung tried to leave him there saying he needed to clean the mess they had made in the kitchen; in that moment, he sat back up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving any further, afraid he wouldn’t find the courage to speak up if he let him go.

The younger slowly turned around and sighed, as if he wasn’t ready to confront the discussion they were about to have; their eyes met and they stayed like that for a moment, time seemingly frozen, both trying to read each other’s emotions.
 
“Do you feel like a loser?” he didn’t like how the phrase had turned out, but he couldn’t take it back now; it seemed like it was enough to catch his dongsaeng attention, who looked at him for a second more before he stepped around the couch and sat down beside him.

Seunghyun acted out of instinct and he reached for the other’s hand, intertwining their fingers like he’d done so many times before; in that moment, it felt like even that action had an unbearable weight. Maybe he’d just read too much into the music video, but, after all, he knew he hadn’t; he still remembered his fear from years before, as he was sitting in front of a door, trying desperately to talk to him, begging him to just give him a sign, anything.

He knew what it meant, because it couldn’t possibly mean anything else; he knew what he’d seen and he couldn’t ignore it like everyone else. He’d never been able to ignore it, while everyone else did because ‘it was better that way’.
 
“No, I don’t. I swear.” he glanced back at him, snapping out of his thoughts and he could tell from his eyes that he was sincere; maybe it was true, and what he’d decided to show was just a side of his past he would never be able to forget as long as he lived, that dark and visceral fear that resented at the bottom of his soul.

He didn’t know what to do next, he just wanted to tell him that he would always be there for him, that the promise they’d made years before was still valid and it would always be, that he would never abandon him, that he would always protect him from the eyes of the world, that he would never be alone, that he would always try to heal his scars and would always love him no matter what; he didn’t, because he’d never been good at expressing his thoughts. But he’d always been good at letting his acts talk to him, so he did once again.
 
He tugged at Daesung’s hand and pulled him towards him, close to him, so that his head was resting on his chest; the younger didn’t object, he only let himself fall against him. Seunghyun slid his arm around his shoulders, slowly caressing the side of his arm, trying to free himself from the impeding weight he was still feeling; he felt him sigh once again, seemingly more relaxed that resigned, this time.

He didn’t know how much they stayed like that, without saying anything, pressed up against each other; the beating of his heart had slowed down considerably since the moment he’d stopped him from walking away. He didn’t know why it’d started to beat so fast and it wouldn’t stop, but he supposed it was connected to the rumbling sound of his thoughts moving around in his mind; he’d started to think that maybe it never was and had never been about his dongsaeng, and had always been about him. He was the one who needed to be reassured that nothing would happen, because he was selfish, he didn’t think he could live without Daesung in his life; it was selfish because maybe he just wanted him to be okay because he needed him and not because he cared.
 
He softly called his name and the younger moved ever so slightly to look at him, his head still resting on his chest as if he couldn’t find the strength to move away from him; he didn’t know why but it made him uncomfortable, it almost sting.

He looked so small and fragile, and, even if he thought he’d be used to seeing him like that by now, he wasn’t; he looked strong on the outside, he always looked like he could break every bone in your body with his arms, and he seemed strong on the inside, and he was, most of the time. But sometimes, he would look so open and bruised he felt the need to just put him in his pocket and protect him from the world, keeping him away from everyone who wasn’t him. He weakly smiled at him, suddenly feeling at the verge of crying.
 
“If you ever do, I want you to tell me. I want you to talk to me if you ever feel lonely or miserable, I’ll always listen. You don’t have to pretend with me.”