2015

Kang Daesung was definitely not an angel, even if it seemed that all VIPs liked to picture him like that. Of course, if you put white feathery wings on his back and saw his face open in one of his trademark eye-smiles you wouldn’t think any different, particularly if everything was paired up with his heavenly voice; and, sure, you had to admit that he probably was one of the kindest and sweetest people in the world (probably only second to Youngbae, but neither of them had to know it).

But he just had to have some sort of demonic power in him; first of all, sometimes he thought it was just impossible he didn’t know how beautiful he was, he had to be blind. Well, what troubled him the most was that some people actually thought he was ugly? He didn’t know what was wrong with them and wanted to smack some sense into them; to be honest, he wanted to smack himself, for even thinking that once, almost unconsciously, years before, considering he surely wasn’t in the place to judge, back then.
 
Okay. He was starting to ramble and lose his initial point, which was having considerations on if Daesung could hypothetically be a creature of hell, against the popular belief. Of course, that face might as well have been sculpted in heaven and, well, maybe the rest of his body, too, but…

He totally had to know the effect he had on people when he swayed his hips with the music or when he took off his shirt –not that he actually ever took off his shirt on his own will, most of the time, they forced him out of it, but he never complained, so –and kept walking around stage like nothing had happened. He was like a siren trying to lure you in and there was no way anybody could actually be immune to that; he wasn’t, and he’d known him for years.
 
In which other way was he partially satanic, you ask? Sincerely, he could go on for hours talking about that and you wouldn’t like it, not even a little: the way he bit his lips (which were already insulting when left alone and had ‘kiss me’ written all over them, but when he sank his teeth into them, you could think about nothing else but wanting to do the same, just, nibble on them for a while; not him! he didn’t, but he was sure girls thought about it all the time, they had to), the way he left his lips slightly parted in photoshoots (yes, again with the lips, because the man had to have the (second) plumpest lips in all of Korea; and, if you didn’t die a little on the inside every time he did that, you were lying to yourself), even the way his hair was styled right now (which was offensive, because he didn’t know who thought that covering half of his face would be a good idea; he didn’t even know where he was going or what he was doing, sometimes, and, well, he didn’t like to not being able to see his face, jesus); his eyes alone (he was unsure about that, he didn’t know if they were from heaven or from hell; either when he smiled or just looked straight at you, you could totally have a heart attack, and it wasn’t difficult to fall into them and get distracted), the way he sang (yes, he’d said that was the angelic part of him, but, honestly, the things that voice could make you feel had not to be underestimated; you could listen to him sing about literally anything and never grow tired of it, and that was extremely dangerous because it could kill you, making you forget you had a life, making you forget to drink, to eat, to sleep, much like a siren, like he’d said before).
 
People thought he was innocent (well, except the Japanese, who saw him as the hot person he actually was and called him a ‘bad boy’; and, damn, they weren’t wrong) but they really didn’t understand him; perhaps he actually thought he was ugly, but he surely knew that he could have anybody. He didn’t seem like the guy who would grab your arm and kiss you out of nowhere, but he would do it if he knew you were attracted to him, and, since everybody was attracted to him, it wasn’t that rare. It surely felt like you’d seen the devil in human form when you walked in on him making out with a girl in the wardrobe, because you knew that a heart would be broken, whatever happened (and it surely wasn’t going to be Daesung’s).

He was a player and you had to give him credit for that, but, since everybody knew that, nobody expected more than a kiss from him. Actually, walking in on him making out with a girl would probably be the worst experience of your life, you would feel suspended in a state that went from utterly embarrassed to inexplicably enraged to somehow bitter with a lot of other emotions you wouldn’t be able to name; and he knew that very well, a bit too much for his taste.
 
He was frozen on the spot; his mind being attacked by every kind of thought from every side. He didn’t know, before, that it was possible for a normal human being to formulate an entire reasoning that could’ve taken years to think in a normal situation, in merely two second. He tried to blink himself back to life, but he couldn’t stop staring and was actually starting to worry for himself. He had no idea who the girl was, she could’ve been anybody: one of the maker-up, one of the hair-stylists, one of the dressers, one of the dancers (after all, Daesung was close to their dancers, it would make sense). He had to have seen her before, she didn’t just appear out of thin air.

Had she a thing for Daesung? Well, she had to, she was making out with him! Had he a thing for her? What if this time it was serious? What if he came out from the wardrobe and told everybody that she was his girlfriend? No, it was improbable. And, whatever, even if that happened he would be happy for him. Finally!

At least someone else other than Youngbae would have a girl and people would stop stupid rumours on the other four of them. That’s okay, good for him. Now, he had to get out of there before they noticed him, because, quite frankly, the discussion afterwards would be terribly awkward.
 
It wasn’t difficult, he just had to step back and quietly close the door. His feet refused to move, his legs stayed still and he kept staring.

‘What the ?’ he had to get out, and he had to do it quickly; he wanted to get out, he wasn’t some sort of ert who liked watching other people do- things. But his eyes wouldn’t budge from the two figures –even if they were so close that it was hard to distinguish where one finished and the other started –half-buried in jackets and scarfs and shirts but totally visible.

Her beautifully manicured hands were at the back of his head, slipping fingers into his hair and pulling at the strands with what looked like a lot of determination; he had one of his arms looped around her waist and with the other he was leaning against the wall in front of him.

Seunghyun could hear their erratic breaths from where he was standing, every time they separated to regain some air and the way their lips smacked together, with an unpleasant sound. He followed his movements when he moved his arms away from her waist to the wall and she slipped one of her hands away from his hair, making her way down his arm and under his shirt; he started kissing her neck, and she tilted her head, almost purring with pleasure.
 
And, in that exact moment, she opened her eyes and saw him standing there like an idiot, their gazes meeting for a brief second; he’d never moved so fast before in his life. He stumbled out of the door, closing it with a thud, louder than he had intended to, but, he didn’t give a damn, anymore, the damage was already done.

Regaining his balance, he turned around and started running, without a precise destination; he just wanted to go the furthest away from that damn wardrobe and the things that were happening there. It was nothing of his business, honestly, and he had stayed more than it was reasonable to do.

He rushed through the corridors, barely making it past all the people on his path, ignoring all the grumbles sent in his directions by all the people who were just trying to do their damn job; he raced like someone was behind him and it was a matter of life and death. He was sure he’d heard someone call his name, but he didn’t want to hear any of it, he just wanted to be left alone.
 
He stopped only when, opening a random door and stepping in, he found himself in a bathroom; it was empty and that was the most important thing, right now. It took him a while to regain his normal breathing and it took even longer for his heart to stop beating like crazy; he didn’t even have an explanation about what had just happened, he just knew that he’d never been more embarrassed in his entire life.

He wondered if she could tell that he’d been on the door longer than necessary; he hoped she couldn’t. He hoped she didn’t even notice him. He hoped that, if she did, she didn’t say anything. He hoped that she just continued purring like a ing cat and taking Daesung’s clothes off. He really hoped she had. He didn’t want to have to explain himself. As if there was anything to explain! It was an accident, for god sake; maybe it was Daesung who needed to think a bit more about the things he did. That damned wardrobe surely wasn’t the best place to  somebody, he should’ve considered people could just walk in and out just like that. What an idiot, what a moron, what a jerk!
 
He buried his face into his hands, leaning back against the wall; when his palms touched his cheeks, he could sense that they were wet. It couldn’t be, that didn’t make any sense; could a big embarrassment bring someone to that? No. Couldn’t be. He quickly stepped in front of the mirror to confirm his suspicion and felt the impelling need to slap some sense into himself, again. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, his nose was equally red and his cheeks were streaked with half-dry tears; oh, my god. What the was going on in his head? Why the was he crying? He didn’t have any reason to! That had been the most humiliating thing of his life –okay, it was probably the thirty-fifth most humiliating thing that had happened in his life, but it surely had gained itself the award for most embarrassing thing of the month, maybe the year –but that wasn’t a good reason to cry like a child. And, anyway, it wasn’t like it was the first time he walked in on two people making out and he knew that Daesung had an history of kissing people just because he wanted to, so, everything considered, it could’ve been worse.
 
Then, why was he crying? Sure, some part of him still told him that maybe this time it was serious and then everything else would’ve followed. But, what if it was, did it really matter? No, of course it didn’t. Was it the reason he was crying? Probably; but it didn’t make any sense.

Daesung could make out with all the people he wanted wherever he wanted, it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t like he was jealous because his dongsaeng had gotten laid more times that he could actually count and he never did, since it didn’t happen so often because he didn’t like to play with people’s heart like that, in spite of appearances; he knew he could have anyone, too, if he wanted. Thinking about it for a moment, staring at his disrupted eyes in the mirror, he decided that what had bothered him the most was her hands in his hair; and it sounded so stupid. And the way she’d ran her hand down his arm and under his clothes, and the way she seemed to glow. And the sound of their lips as they smacked together.
 
Who the  she thought she was? Did she really think she was special and that wasn’t something he did from time to time without giving a damn about the hearts he broke? She couldn’t possibly think she was the only one who’d ever caressed his hair, ever been close to him, ever felt his arms, ever been touched by his light, ever touched his body, ever touched him, ever kissed him.

He’d done all those things before, he had. Except the kissing of course, and he surely didn’t want to try, he was his best friend; that was not what he was implying! He just didn’t like to think she believed she had something special; she was a nobody, she would only end up in the list of people Daesung had made out with and it would finish there, exactly as it had started.
 
Daesung could kiss who he wanted. He didn’t give a damn about that. It was his life, after all, and he could decide what he wanted to do with it. But maybe he could imagine Daesung in front of him, in the dark; he could imagine sliding his hand into his hair and pulling him back, kissing his chin. He could imagine how his plump lips would feel on his thinner ones, how he would taste. He could imagine his own hands slipping under his shirt and roaming his perfectly sculpted body; he could imagine how his eyes would glisten as he looked at him…
 
The sound of the door opening brought him out of his reverie almost violently, and the thought fell back in shame, scared, and precipitated at the bottom of his mind, never to be found again. Seunghyun blinked a couple of times, forgetting completely what he’d been thinking about; sometimes he had the incredible ability to ignore what was in his mind, the unwanted thoughts that wandered about in his mind. It was his way of protecting himself, he guessed.

Raising his eyes from his hands, which were inexplicably gripping the edge of the sink, he noticed Jiyong staring at him with a puzzled expression painted on his face, red hair and all, and the only thing he could do was stare back. Seemed like it was the only thing he could do, at the moment. Great, a talk with the leader was the last thing he needed, right now.
 
“What the  do you want?” he asked and, somehow, instead of sounding pissed off like he’d intended to, his voice came out as barely a whisper and he almost sounded scared, like he’d been caught doing something indecent. Much like Daesung, right? Jiyong didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he’d just answered rudely, he just stepped beside him and began to wash his hands, throwing him a glance from time to time, as if wondering what to tell him, ask him.

While turning around to dry them with the automatic hand-dryer, he casually threw a question in his direction, which Seunghyun barely caught, in the middle of the chaos caused by the blowing air that was desperately trying to dry down his leader’s hands.
 
“Are you okay?” well, what a dumb question. He didn’t look okay, and, perhaps, he really wasn’t, even if he couldn’t find a reason why he shouldn’t have been; walking in on your best friend making out with a girl shouldn’t be much of a tragedy. Somehow, it felt like one. He snorted sarcastically, letting out that he didn’t want to talk about it and that, therefore, it was like he was perfectly fine. Jiyong turned back to him and watched his face carefully, as if searching for something, a sign of what was bothering him on his face.
 
“You know you can talk to me, yeah?” he said after a while, with a soft look in his eyes, letting the perfect wall G-Dragon was fall for a moment, letting him see that he genuinely cared; Seunghyun felt a lump forming in his throat, and the back of his eyes started tingling, threatening to let more tears down.

He wasn’t going to break down, not in front of him, not without a reason, not without fully understanding what was going on in his head; the problem was that he never truly knew what was going on in his mind, he never truly knew why some thoughts popped out randomly and died again a second later, he never truly knew why he acted without thinking, he never truly knew why he kept clinging to his childish side, why he couldn’t accept that he was getting older.

Maybe it was because the last moments he remembered when he’d known where he was going or what he was doing, were from when he was a child; now, his mental state was always extremely fragile and he was painfully aware of that, and he was even more aware of the fact that his dongsaengs knew. They never treated him differently for that, they loved him despite that, but…They knew, and it was enough to terrify him.
 
He rapidly nodded, offering a small smile to his leader, trying to reassure him that everything effectively was alright, signalling that he would tell him everything once he knew what exactly everything was. Jiyong pulled him into a brief hug and then put his arm around his shoulders, and, together, they stepped out of the door and back into the chaos on the outside; Seunghyun knew that once he saw Daesung again, after overcoming a moment of necessary embarrassment, everything would be back as it had been, and only the shadow of what had happened would remain.

But, at the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking that Daesung wasn’t an angel nor a demon; he was a heartbreaker.