Note: this story was supposed to be divided in short moments that covered a long time. That's why here you directly jump ahead a little in time and in their relationsip. I hope it's clear enough.

"Oppa ..."

"Don't say that. I don't want to hear you."

Seungri remained dumbfounded. Jiyong wore a black cap that hid his forehead and dark glasses large enough to cover his eyebrows and cheeks as well as his eyes. He couldn't make out his expression, but he knew from the pouting curve of his lips that he was angry. 

“But I have something to tell you and I have to tell you. You can't prevent others from talking to you." Seungri replied, his voice more poisonous than he would've liked. For some time now, that tone often rose to his lips when he addressed Jiyong, even involuntarily; each time they had to reconcile before cuddling, because Jiyong automatically responded to that voice tone with an even worse one.

“You always repeat the same thing. It's useless, and I don't want to hear that from you again. "

"It's certainly not my fault if I have to say it again."

"Of course it's not your fault," Jiyong agreed, moderating his voice. They both sat in the car, Seungri in the front, in the seat next to the driver's, and Jiyong in the back, in the seat of the person who ordered a taxi. "But you don't understand why I won't listen to this bull." he added in English.

"Tell us, then. Why?" Taeyang said, getting into the car and putting the keys into the dashboard with a gesture that betrayed his annoyance too.

"Because I am an artist." Jiyong spat, slamming his back hard against the back of the seat on purpose as Taeyang started the engine. "An artist in my life too, you know what I mean?" now he was speaking to Taeyang only. "And I don't want to prevent myself from being an artist in everything I do: in the flowers I see on the street, in the clothes I wear, in human relationships, even ..."

“Even with Seungri, I know, I know. And really, I don't mind it. It's your business, as