Title: Bad Guy
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): G-Ri
Length: 2,963
Summary: Kwon Jiyong is a coward.
Notes: Had fun doing this, hope I can do it again. This is more of a prequel remix to the actual story from Jiyong's point of view.

Remixee author: ariellm13
Title of work you remixed: Bad Guy
Link to work you remixed: http://ariellm13.livejournal.com/7963.html#cutid1

Kwon Jiyong sits at small table in the back of a café. The wedding ring he usually has on is being twisted around his finger. It doesn’t hurt, but he likes to imagine that it burns. That the band on his finger is a mark of the life he chose and the one he’ll never have. Jiyong stares as his coffee, sees the tendrils of smoke drift off, reminding him of the smoke from his cigarettes. His hand slides against his pocket, assuring himself that the pack of smokes is still there. Fingers drum against his thighs as he contemplates lighting one. What’s one more stick of cancer anyway? Of the hundreds he’s smoked since high school.  He pulls the ring off and slides it into his pocket, nestled against the pack of sticks.

The rain is coming down outside, a steady drum that sadly does nothing to calm his nerves.  A bell dings as another customer opens the door, no doubt to look for respite from the unpleasant weather outside.  Jiyong wonders why he chose this coffee shop out of the dozens found in this area of Seoul. There’s nothing extremely special about this one, no expensive dishes, or fancy TV’s, or even a trendy aura, all things Jiyong likes. It’s just an ordinary place, good food and hot coffee and a warm atmosphere. Jiyong thinks it’s even almost strange how he chose this place.

All of this is being contemplated while his cup of coffee cools, forgotten. “Hello,” a tentative voice replies, seemingly unwilling to disturb whatever mood Jiyoung finds himself in. He looks up to find the face of a young man, not much younger than he with a server’s uniform on.  The thick eyebrows and dark bags under his eyes seem to discourage thoughts of attractiveness, but the smooth skin and straight nose beg otherwise, Jiyong thinks. “Would you like some more coffee sir?” the voice says again, and he wonders how strange it is that this boy calls him sir, even though they’re about the same age.

For a moment he doesn’t reply, still lost in his own thoughts until he realizes that this boy, (“Seunghyun” it says on the name tag in looping letters) is still waiting for another answer. He blinks rapidly, stares at his drink until he notices that no more steam is escaping, that it looks rather cool now. “I’m fine. Thank you.” He replies, and then decides that he’s already wasted too much time in this shop. “Can I get the bill?” he asks, hand already sliding into his pocket to grab the wallet located there. “Actually, why don’t you have it on the house this time? It looks like you have a lot on your mind.” Seunghyun offers with a smile, and Jiyong thinks he looks even better with it stretching across his features.

Jiyong inwardly feels rather taken aback, not used to acts of kindness at all. Outwardly, his aura of calm is maintained, with nothing but the raise of an arched eyebrow to indicate the presence of other feelings. “Don’t busboys get chewed out for this kind of thing?” he slightly teases, but he’s already getting up and walking away from the table.  His umbrella snaps open as he gets to the foyer of the coffee shop, stepping into the rain without a second glance behind. Seungri stares at the retreating back of the stranger, a little annoyed that his offer was taken without even a ‘thank you’.  Jiyong was right though, if he himself doesn’t pay for the coffee and pastry the man ordered; he’s going to be scolded by his boss.

Seungri doesn’t think much about the stranger after that day, that is, not until he sees him again a week later, sitting at the same table with the same pastry and order of coffee. He doesn’t wait his table that day, so he only catches glimpses of him throughout his stay. But this stranger comes once or twice a week, every week. Seungri wonders why. Personally, he wouldn’t come here every week. The café is a nice place, but there are better places in Seoul to visit. He doesn’t worry too much about it though, who is he to discourage business?

Later, it’s Jiyong’s third week visiting the coffee shop, and third or fourth time with Seungri as his waiter. All the other interactions the two had had were mainly limited to orders being placed and bills being paid. Jiyong hadn’t been very talkative, always preferring to sit and think, or work on some type of paperwork. But on one of his visits he decides to speak to Seungri, meaningless chitchat to fill up the time. Things like how long he had worked there, and what he did on his spare time. Once he asked what Seungri did, to which he had replied that he was a student working on his business degree. Seungri loved talking to anyone who would listen about his dreams and aspirations. That he liked what he was studying and couldn’t wait to graduate.

And Seungri’s not too sure when his talks with this stranger, whose name he learned was Jiyong (but who was called G-Dragon by friends) became longer, more interesting. He forgets when he started looking forward to Jiyong’s weekly visits to the shop. But one day, as they’re talking he dares ask more about Jiyong’s life, because he realizes they always talk about his life, but never Jiyong’s. “I don’t necessarily like the life I’ve chosen for myself. I do what I can to survive, but honestly, my music is what keeps me going most of the time.” He replies, his nonchalant attitude a stark contrast to the severity of his words.  Jiyong offers nothing more of an explanation, and Seungri is content with what he is given.

Seungri likes to think that the day they became friends is the day he confesses that his nickname is ‘Seungri’, a name he took himself when he was younger because he would never back down from the bullies at his school, no matter how big or mean they were. He remembers the way Jiyong had laughed at his story, eyes crinkling and mouth stretched wide. It was one of the first times he had seen Jiyong smile, let alone laugh. And he thinks that’s when things started changing. When Jiyong’s role in Seungri’s life started changing from acquaintance to friend. Soon they talk about all kinds of things when Jiyong comes for his weekly coffee, (but never about Jiyong’s life) and Seungri likes it because they’re always interesting. He notices Jiyong isn’t like anyone he’s ever met, he’s got different ideas, different views; a flamingo in a flock of pigeons, Seungri likes to think. 

One day when Seungri gets off early and Jiyong is still at his table (he likes to think of it as Jiyong’s table, a permanent part of the man who occupies it) he invites him for a drink at a local bar. Surprisingly he agrees, which surprises Seungri because although he considers Jiyong a friend, he didn’t know if the sentiment was felt both ways. They have a good time, the soju burning their throats on the way down but leaving a warm feeling in their stomach. And suddenly this becomes a new ritual for the two, to go out somewhere after Seungri’s shifts.

During one of these many excursions, Jiyong, who had been rather quiet and reserved all day got quite intoxicated. When Seungri tried looking through his pockets all he could find was his wallet; and all that was inside was a credit card, some rumpled wons, and his I.D. Nothing to give any indication of where his friend could work, or possibly go when he wasn’t at the coffee shop. Looking at his phone wasn’t any better, Seungri realizes when he clicks on the screen, only to find it password locked.  Afraid to leave Jiyong alone on the streets at night, he brings him along to his apartment.  Seungri makes sure that Jiyong his comfortable, is all ready to let his friend sleep in his bed, when Jiyong wraps spindly arms around his neck and drags him closer. Drunk Jiyong is cheery, rosy cheeks and brightly dazed eyes, and apparently drunken Jiyong is also unaware of whom he kisses. Because that is what he does when he slams his lips against Seungri’s. His breathe reeks of alcohol, and their teeth clacked together, but Jiyong’s lips are soft, and Jiyong is Jiyong. So that when he least realizes it Seungri’s kissing back, body hovering above Jiyong’s. But Seungri thinks it’s wrong, jerks back and breaks the hold against his neck. He blames both of their actions on the alcohol and resolutely walks to the couch and stays there the rest of the night. In the morning, when Jiyong is awake and has a killer hangover, Seungri is there with some medicine and a glass of water.  Seungri tries so hard to act normal, to forget about what happened the night before.

But somehow Jiyong senses something is off when Seungri flinches as their hands touch. “I did something last night.” It’s not a question at all but merely a statement.  Seungri’s eyes are wide but he blinks rapidly every few seconds, afraid to respond. “Yes…you kiss...-kissed me.” He replies haltingly as a shameful blush spreads across his neck.  “Did you like it?” asks Jiyong, palm resting against his chin as that deceptively calm aura surrounds him. “What?!” is the choked reply from the younger man, but there’s no denial. “I ask because if you don’t mind, we could do it again. Sober this time. As long as you’re okay with it.” Jiyong smirks, a rather cocky expression on his face.  “I think you should just…leave for now Jiyong. I actually have classes soon.”

Like before, Jiyong doesn’t seem to care about what Seungri might be feeling. He gathers his things and exits the apartment, nothing more than a “See you soon Seungri” thrown over his shoulder at the last moment. Seungri doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t ever remember liking men, let alone wanting to kiss one again. But Jiyong is different from other people, a fact that he can’t keep from acknowledging again and again. He’s interesting and different and his smile lights up the room when he decides to let it out.  So that the next week, when Jiyong comes and not-so-subtly intertwines his fingers with Seungri’s, the younger man doesn’t move away, just widens his eyes and tries to keep the rest of the patrons from seeing.

Like when they were just becoming friends, Seungri doesn’t realize when Jiyong becomes a large part of his life. It’s like one day he wasn’t even there and the next he was everywhere. At Seungri’s work, in his dreams, his fantasies and thoughts. It seems like a spread of warmth that spreads across his body when Jiyong focuses all this attention on him, but perhaps he should have seen it as poison spreading.  They hang out more and Jiyong sometimes comes to walk Seungri home after his classes are done for the day.  Seungri realizes he’s fallen in love when Jiyong misses a day at the coffee shop and Seungri is on pins and needles the rest of the day. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t seem to eat or get any work done. So when he sees Jiyong the next day he hugs him and doesn’t let go. Jiyong just laughs at his behavior and ruffles his hair. But Seungri doesn’t care, not when Jiyong is in his arms and he’s a real person, body solid and warm against his own.

In Jiyong fashion, slowly Seungri’s apartment stops being his own. Jiyong brings clothes over, until the closet is equal parts Seungri and Jiyong. He brings his guitar over and scribbles lyrics across all the open spaces. Across the walls and tables and even on the furniture. Just like when Jiyong was a stranger and Seungri let him off for coffee, Seungri doesn’t care about the writing on the walls, even though he’d probably get kicked out if the landlord knew.  But he thinks it’s worth it when Jiyong composes a song and sings it for him. And the chorus repeats the words ‘I love you’ until Seungri realizes the words are directed at him and for him. That’s the first time Jiyong makes love to Seungri, marks his pale skin with silent declarations of love and passion.  And Jiyong murmurs ‘I love you’s’ into his skin as he comes, back arching and tendrils of hair sticking unto his face and Seungri can only stare at how perfect he looks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The corporate plans lay on the mahogany desk as Jiyong prepares to head out to work. His watch gleams in the sunlight but what catches his attention is the wedding band across his finger. He stares at it, wonders what it would cost him to take it off permanently, to leave this shadow of a marriage. Across the hall is the picture of his wife and him on their wedding day, two beautiful people dressed in traditional hanbok. But his eyes appear empty, even then.  He looks at the time, realizes he needs to leave now if he wants to get on time to his job. His hand is already on the doorknob, foot touching the ground outside when he hears his name being called. He turns around to stare at his wife and her pale features. The hate he harbors for here bubbles to the service and he barely keeps it repressed.  He knows it was his parents who pushed for their marriage, knows he wouldn’t have the job he had if it weren’t for the connections from her family.

But it was their marriage that took his freedom away and that limited his music, the one thing he truly loved in this world. He only needs to look at her to remember all of that and it only makes him want to return to Seungri and their home. He knows she’s hurting because of his cold attitude, the fact that he can barely look at her as of late. Jiyong thinks she suspects an affair, but any possible sympathy he might have vanishes because he knows she’s had affairs as well. They’re just another well-kept secret that constitute their marriage.  She stares at him for a moment before begging, “I know you hate me. Maybe I hate you too. I know at least that neither of us ever wanted to get married to the other. But you need to know that I’m pregnant. And that for the sake of our child, because it is yours, I need you to stop whatever it is that you have going on. Because they don’t need to suffer for our choices, so I’m begging you to please, at least pretend that you can stand me.”

The breath is knocked out of him and his blood freezes in his veins. There’s hurt in her eyes, but her head is held high and Jiyong knows that this is a fight he can’t back down from.  And Jiyong realizes that the life he was living with Seungri all along could never work. Because the perfect life he led was a fairytale, was make-believe, something that would never work in the real world. Jiyong thinks he might just die. Thinks that now he’s forever trapped, because you can’t ignore a child, and because he knows in some recess of his mind that his wife is right and that the child shouldn’t pay because he was too much of a coward to say ‘no’ to his family. But he can’t think of that right now, it’s all too much, too soon and he needs Seungri, only Seungri, needs to find him and hug him and then destroy him. Because Jiyong can’t love him anymore.

Jiyong doesn’t remember getting in his car, only remembers arriving at Seungri’s apartment, and then he’s kissing him, teeth biting and he thinks he tastes blood. Because Seungri is his and no one else can have him but Jiyong, but Jiyong can’t have him. Seungri struggles, gasps as he feels his lip rip. “What’s wrong Jiyong, what hap-” but then he’s staring down at Jiyong’s hand, fear in his gaze. Jiyong looks down and realizes he didn’t take his wedding band off, that his and her name is enblazened across the whole outer stretch of it. And it’s then that Jiyong realizes that the only way he can let Seungri go is if Seungri hates him. Hates him with every fiber of his being, until his vision blurs and he tastes metal in his mouth. Because if Seungri still loves him, Jiyong will never be able to leave.  So he screams, throws cups and plates against the walls, yells and howl, feels his throat rub raw. He doesn’t even remember what he says, only that Seungri is useless and worthless and that he never even loved him. And he grabs his things, tries to walk away. And when Seungri grabs his arm, tears in his eyes, Jiyong remembers all the hate he has for his wife, and directs at him. Like he’s been shocked, Seungri steps back hand falling from his arm.  Like before, Jiyong is a coward, leaves the one good thing in his life in the doorway of their home.