IX

          Jiyong didn’t know what he’d been expecting.

          He was left alone in the brightly-lit room, all four walls laughing at him, as he stared at the leather chair that still had the faint imprint of Seunghyun’s hand. It had made a quarter turn from the other man’s immediate departure into the empty hallway.

As soon as the handprint faded, Jiyong brought his hands to his face and closed his eyes, trying to relax in any way possible to regain an ordinary heart rate.

It felt as if a hole was starting be ripped out of his lungs. Each exhale came with a distinct amount of effort from his mental firmness in refusing to cry. With his eyes closed, he was able to delude himself into thinking Seunghyun was still there, waiting for him to open his eyes so he could tell him that it was okay, that they were still friends, that nothing had changed, that he didn’t think he’d been stupid to bring up the truth.

But his eyes had to open sometime.

When they did, every possible swear word and insult rushed to his tongue to spit at himself, but no sound passed his lips. What the hellhad he done? What the hellhad he done? Seunghyun was obviously in a bad mood. Jiyong. You knewhe hadn’t been sleeping. You knew he’d been upset for some reason. What kind of friend are you? You’ve only worried him more.

Jiyong thanked Youngbae for switching dressing rooms with him at the last minute.

This one had a private washroom.
          He wouldn’t have been able to make it to the community bathroom down the hall before his stomach made his scarce breakfast do a surprise re-appearance.

Oh Jiyong, you always loved being a drama queen.

***

          “I thought you were riding with Ji?” Daesung asked, scratching the back of his head.

          Seunghyun sat down and buckled in, settling himself before acknowledging the prodding question. “I switched with Youngbae, he wanted to talk to him about something.” He said flatly, able to lie easily when wasn’t looking at the other man.

          “Oh, okay.” He didn’t press on.

          Seungri leaned across Daesung from the other side of the car. “Did you have fun today? It was a great show.”

Seunghyun rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m just really tired now, that’s all.”

Seungri didn’t seem tired at all. He was amped. He and Daesung talked about the events of the night excitedly, recounting all of their jokes and reactions. Seunghyun wished he could have five percent, just five percent, of Seungri’s energy and enthusiasm.

Blaming a headache, which wasn’t a lie, Seunghyun donned his noise-cancelling headphones and turned them on without any music. A dull buzzing was all he heard, and he tried to keep his eyes closed.

Strong Heart had been fun, he couldn’t deny it. Dongwook was one of his favorite people, and seeing him again made the cameras almost invisible. The show had a fun atmosphere. He liked everyone there.

Everything had just come to a screeching halt afterward, that was all.

***

          Seunghyun didn’t even know what he thought about.

          Jiyong, in love with him? No. What? No. He locked himself in his room to figure things out. But what needed to be figured out, he wasn’t sure. He ate alone. Evaded Jiyong at all costs. He knew he was avoiding the problem. And look how well that had worked out for him last time.

          He suppressed those feelings too. He’d face the problem when he was ready.
          The rational part of Seunghyun was getting increasingly frustrated with being overpowered.

His neck had gotten noticeably red from his constant scratching and rubbing, and his hairdressers were warning him that they’d have to keep a close eye on him if he was going to ruffle his hair and ruin their work all the time.

The days before Strong Heart had been good. He’d actually gotten sleep. He’d thought he’d gotten better, he’d sure been feeling better. Now he was separated from his light in the darkness, the one who’d be able to make him smile despite everything. Yet he failed to make this connection – that Jiyong was the one keeping him sane.

***

Without Jiyong in his life, Seunghyun’s bed was useless.

Devoid of sleep for a week, his moping around became noticeable. He’d hang out in the living room to dispel suspicion from Seungri, Daesung, and Youngbae, only to escape to his room once Jiyong came back from the studio. His door would be shut before Jiyong was up the stairs.

The three heads would swivel in confusion, missing where the two’s friendship had gone askew. Youngbae was the first to notice the way Jiyong’s eyes lingered on Seunghyun’s empty armchair, the way he got Seunghyun’s favorite whiskey out of the cooler before returning it immediately, and how he retired early every night.

Youngbae became twitchy, and flinched every time GD and TOP acted like repelling poles on a magnet, one pushing the other away simply with their presence. Seunghyun’s performance had been slipping, and Youngbae couldn’t let his leader’s inspiration disappear as well. He saw more of Jiyong than he did of Seunghyun because of their shared dance classes, and the poor man was exhausted in every possible way. The only thing that hadn’t suffered was his lyrics, but the way Jiyong clung to his spiral-bound notebook had to be unhealthy. In the middle of a dance routine, he’d abandon the choreography and rush to his things – extricating the notebook full of blotches and scribbles to make a few vital notes.

Once Jiyong declined an offer to go into the studio, Youngbae had had enough.

He allowed Seunghyun his hour-long shower that had become his new late-nighttime ritual. He waited in his room down the hall to listen for the water to shut off, resolving to make a point with him as soon as he tried to lock himself in his room again.

Behind the bathroom door, Seunghyun had applied his conditioner, too busy thinking to notice that he’d already done it twice. He reassured himself that he wasn’t homophobic. If Jiyong had admitted that he was in love with anyone else who happened to be male, Seunghyun could honestly say he would stand behind him one hundred percent.

But GDragon liked girls. Girls. Seunghyun couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that this just wasn’t the case. And even if Jiyong did like men, for him to love Seunghyun? He couldn’t bring himself to understand why.
          He refused to look down at his body. That one day in the gym, he’d loved his body, loved what it had become. Now he wished he had never revealed himself to Jiyong, never been proud of how he looked. He latched onto the thought that his body was the sole reason for his attraction, even though he knew quite well that that wasn’t true. He hated it.

There was a reason he’d avoided the subject. He felt so guilty for shutting it out of his mind, so selfish for making the rest of the group sag with his apathy over everything else. But the way Jiyong looked at him as he’d all but bolted out of the door of the dressing room appeared behind his eyelids every time he blinked. How he was going to resolve this, he didn’t know how. He’d always been one to procrastinate. It had just gotten really serious, really fast.

.         The water finally started going cold on his back. Maybe it had been icy for a long time, Seunghyun had only finally registered it. He shut off the water and immediately snatched his towel off of its rack, drying himself off quickly. He’d brought an old bathrobe into the bathroom with him, and as soon as he was dry enough he pulled it on. He felt much better once he was covered.

          Youngbae heard the water flow halt. He waited outside the door, repeating what he was going to say once more in his head before knocking.

          Seunghyun was startled out of his own universe. “Yeah?” He called, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t talked to Jiyong unknowingly. Then he’d be stuck. And he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.

          “Hey, hyung, I wanted to talk to you.” Youngbae said calmly.

          A sigh of relief was just barely audible to Youngbae as Seunghyun recognized his voice. A different part of his chest ached, a part that had wished for Jiyong, a part that had longed to be talking to Jiyong. “Oh, I’ll be out soon. Should I come to your –“

          “ - We can talk in your room. You don’t have to rush or anything.”

          “Alright.”

          Youngbae sat himself carefully on Seunghyun’s bed, feeling bad for doing so as it was completely made up and pristine from disuse. He observed the toys on the walls – there were less than there had been last time he’d been inside. He wondered… Yes. One thing was similar with what was gone – there was a shelf that once held the ones friends had given to him as gifts. Jiyong’s were gone. Now Youngbae was really worried. His palms got the slightest bit clammy, worrying that he’d wind up pushing Seunghyun even farther away.

          A few moments later, Seunghyun entered his room in his sweats, noting where Youngbae was sitting and placing himself a safe distance away on the bed. He pressed his palms onto his knees. “So… What’s up?” He attempted a bright demeanor.

          “Don’t fake it for me.” Youngbae said immediately, clasping his hands together and looking at Seunghyun sideways. His face was devoid of any of his usual peppy cheeriness. “You’re not happy. Ji’s not happy. Don’t even try to pretend for me.” He raised his eyebrows seriously.

          Seunghyun nodded, the image of a child being admonished by his father.

          From Seunghyun’s wide-eyed and blank stare, Youngbae took that he wasn’t about to say anything. “I just – okay. You know, maybe it’s none of my business. But you’re my friend, too.” He paused. “I hate seeing you and Jiyong like this. Of course, you wouldn’t know how Ji looks.” He gave him an accusing glance and couldn’t sit still, standing up and lacing his hands behind his neck.

          Seunghyun examined his toenails. “I don’t want to see him.”

          Youngbae leaned down so his face was right in Seunghyun’s, glaring. “Why not? Do you have any idea of how much he must miss you? He looks at everything that’s connected to you as if it was a dying kitten. You may not notice since you’re shut up in your own room, but when I go to bed, his light is always on.” He turned and wildly gestured to the shelf of Jiyong’s missing toys. “And where the hell did you put his figures? Did you guys fight? Why did you take –“

          “ – I didn’t want to look at them!” Seunghyun almost yelled, his calves starting to shake imperceptibly. He kept his face pointed to the floor, as his eyes flicked from the wooden slats to Youngbae’s face. “They remind me of him, and I don’t want to think about him when I’m trying to ing sleep, Youngbae!”

          Wiping his forehead, Youngbae recomposed himself. When he spoke next, his voice was very soft. “I’m just worried about you both. You’re friends, and even if you fought –“

          “ – We didn’t fight.” Seunghyun was getting increasingly frustrated, once again feeling stupid for how quickly his temper was rising. He rubbed the back of his neck, scraping with his nails as he pulled away.

          “Then explain to me why you won’t look your best friend in the face.”

          Seunghyun knew he couldn’t just give Jiyong away. He’d never trust him again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

          “I wouldn’t understand?” Youngbae was infuriated instantly. “You talk as if I didn’t grow up with the both of you.” He kicked a pile of laundry on the ground. “Of course I’ll understand! I’ve lived with you for what, eight years now? Would you get over yourself? I’m trying to help you. I can’t stand seeing you two in pain.”

          His calm manner had shifted, and both men were in an unpredictable state. Youngbae panted slightly.

          Seunghyun stood up. “I don’t need your help.” He said faster than he could catch himself, for he knew it was a complete and utter lie. But he didn’t know how else he could talk to Youngbae to get his help in the matter.

          Youngbae crossed his arms. “Seunghyun.”

          “Don’t talk to me like that.” Seunghyun jabbed a finger to Youngbae’s chest. “It is none of your business. And why are you talking to me?” He glowered and pushed Youngbae back a few inches with a shove. “Why don’t you go ask Jiyong what’s wrong? What makes you think this is my fault?”

          Youngbae pushed him right back, his eyebrows furrowing menacingly. “Because you’re always the first to leave him alone. He’s stood at the bathroom door while you’re in there, for hours, in that little comfort cubicle of yours. He wants to make things right. I just want you to make a goddamn effort.”

          Seunghyun was the first to turn away, seething. He didn’t even know how to go about fixing things, patching everything up in order to blotch it out of his memory. It just wouldn’t work like that. Youngbae didn’t understand. It didn’t work like that.

          “I know you don’t sleep either. The walls are thin. But you’re his hyung. Be a man and own up to whatever you did. Even if he was wrong.”

          “I need space from him right now.” Seunghyun said quietly, his eyes scrunched closed in frustration. He couldn’t tell Youngbae why he couldn’t do anything. Why it was impossible not to feel sick to his stomach every time Jiyong was brought up in a completely innocent conversation.

          “It’s been a week. You’ve had your ing space.”

          Seunghyun was out of protestations. He was improvising, and the haze of his anger didn’t make it any easier to think clearly. What he wanted was to punch Youngbae, to scare him off, to show him he was wrong. But he couldn’t do that. His lip curled at the other man and he settled with shoving him another step closer to the door. “You don’t know. Just leave me alone, will you?” He ended in a shout that must have been audible to whoever was in the house.

          Instead of shoving him back - which would have been satisfying, considering Seunghyun wanted to beat himself up as well – Youngbae did his worst. His face fell and he scanned Seunghyun’s face one last time before lowering his head and opening the door slowly. He exited the room, his mission an utter failure.

          Seunghyun lowered himself back onto his bed, bending himself in half. Youngbae’s disappointment made him sober up.

          He needed a drink.

A/N: Don't kill me guys it couldn't be all fluffy right away you have to understand that pleaseee
SO CONGRATS AN EARLY UPDATE
AND ANOTHER UPDATE TOMORROW. SHORT, BUT ANOTHER UPDATE.
I listened to She's Gone on repeat for the majority of the writing of this, and again now, so that might be to blame for some of the angst.
i've just been obsessed with the song ever since i found the y video omg it's one of my all time favorites
But I've had that fight planned since the dawn of my inspiration for this story. Thank god I finally got there.
THANKS FOR READING AND I'LL SEE YOU TOMORROW.