avirjin: (Default)
Title: Cleaning Up Messes
Fandom: Shut Up! Flower Boy Band
Focus: Hajin-centric, Hajin/Kyungjong
Genre: Mild Angst
Rating: PG
Length: Oneshot, 2793 words
Summary: It’s nothing at all like any of the anniversaries or other birthdays Hajin’s forgotten, because those were just stupid girls who were only good for a good time and a bit of pocket change. This was different — Kyungjong was different. Hajin/Kyungjong UST

The party unofficially ends when Kyungjong leaves the room to wash off the cake from his face and Jihyuk takes the opportunity to make a call.

“It’s to Hyunsoo,” Doil explains as they’re picking up pieces of cake from the floor. He smiles softly as he watches Wookyung carry plates over to the kitchen sink, complaining all the while at always having to clean up their messes.

It’s honestly the first time that evening that Hajin’s even given Hyunsoo a thought, especially after having to listen Yerim go on and on about how much she wanted to meet him and apologize for the hundredth time during their date. He bites back a scowl, instead opting to raise an eyebrow at Doil’s comment. “Where is that bastard anyway? Is he still working?”

He knows his disapproval is dripping from every word. He’s probably the last person who should feel that way — what kind of person forgot their best friend’s birthday, he thinks with a sinking feeling in his chest — but he can’t help feeling angry at Hyunsoo. Perfect Hyunsoo who just has to fake one of his stupidly insincere smiles and easily charm everyone that Hajin has to work at winning over.

Doil glances at him and then at the door Jihyuk walked through. His lip twitches and Hajin can see him sorting through his thoughts, trying to figure out the best way to placate him.

“You shouldn’t say that about him. He’s working hard for all of us. You know he wouldn’t have missed this if he could help it.”

Maybe it’s the calm in Doil’s voice, or maybe it’s the subtlely scolding tone. Whatever it is, it’s enough to convince Hajin to push aside that anger. Maybe another day, he’ll figure out what to do about Hyunsoo. But not now, not on Kyungjong’s special day.

Hajin sighs. So much for special.

“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” he asks Doil as he hands him a handful of dirty napkins to throw away. Now that Kyungjong isn’t in the room, smiling brightly and stupidly and crowing loudly as he flings handfuls of his birthday cake at them, it’s harder to forget his sullen expression as he had walked through the front door. It’s harder for Hajin to forget the feelings of panic and guilt flooding his body as he watched Kyungjong storm past them — not even bothering to look at them — and that stupid joke he had made over breakfast. Threatening the end of their friendship over Kyungjong’s breakfast.

Sick doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Doil tells him calmly. He rests a firm hand on Hajin’s shoulder, squeezing it softly. The effect is immediate as Hajin feels most of the tension leave his body. “We all forgot, and we can’t change that. We just have to make it up to him.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Hajin chuckles grimly. He gestures at the opened containers of food on their coffee table, none of which are from him unsurprisingly. Instead of leaving to buy something he had spent hours waiting on that stupid couch, too afraid to leave in case he missed Kyungjong and made things between them any worse.

Doil shrugs and walks over to the other side of the table to start cleaning up over there. “You know a word from you would mean a thousand times more than anything any of us could ever give him.” He stares pointedly at Hajin, only looking away when the bathroom door opens and Kyungjong walks out fresh from a shower.

Hajin watches him, the way the water still lingers on his skin and the heat is still evident in his cheeks. He wonders how he ever could have forgotten something so important about Kyungjong, how he could have ever done something stupid enough to wipe off that ever constant smile off of his childish face.

“Go ahead,” Doil continues, nodding towards their bedroom, “Wookyung and I can handle the rest.” His smile is small and enigmatic as always, but Hajin takes the opportunity without question.

Kyungjong is sitting in the lower bunk when Hajin comes in, his hands gripping Hajin’s comforter. Despite the fact that it’s not his bed, it seems right for him to be sitting there, the way it always seems right for Kyungjong to be with Hajin in some way or another. That’s probably why no one had been surprised to find him underneath Hajin’s sheets in Hajin’s bunk rather than his own.

“Are you still angry?” Hajin asks loudly, although he’s sure from the way Kyungjong’s body had already tensed up that he was already aware of his entrance. He leans against the bedframe, watching and waiting for Kyungjong to turn around and face him.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t.

Hajin breathes out, holds back the urge to do something stupid. It’s his fault after all, for thinking that Kyungjong had gotten over it all, for forgetting Kyungjong’s birthday in the first place. “At least we remembered before your birthday was over.”

He tries not to think of what would have happened if that wasn’t the case. He’s too scared to think of what could have happened if he had completely screwed everything up with Kyungjong. It would be nothing at all like any of the anniversaries or other birthdays he’s forgotten, because those were just stupid girls who were only good for a good time and a bit of pocket change. This was different — Kyungjong was different.

“Are you more concerned about Kim Yerim’s blood type than your friend’s birthday?”

He almost misses the hint of bitterness in Kyungjong’s words, the crucial word missing in front of ‘friend’. But for once, dangling Yerim’s name in front of him isn’t enough to distract him from what Kyungjong’s really trying to say.

“That’s not true,” he protests weakly, “let me off just this once, huh?”

He’s using the same wheedling, whining tone that works with his sisters and all of those girls from the club. There’s an art to it, a balance between being endearing, deferent, and annoying enough to get what he wants, and while it doesn’t seem quite right to use that trick on Kyungjong, it doesn’t seem quite right for them to be like this either.

The guilt will disappear soon enough, he reasons, but Kyungjong needs to stay.

Kyungjong turns his head, completely avoiding Hajin’s gaze. Hajin doesn’t miss how Kyungjong swallows loudly, probably swallowing his words and his rage and his feelings. He wonders if he’s crying, and hopes not because Hajin can barely handle crocodile tears on girls let alone the tears of his best friend.

“Kyungjong,” he says, keeping his voice soft and even, “what are you thinking, you punk?” He reaches out slowly, to place a hand on Kyungjong’s shoulders the way Doil placed a hand on his own not even twenty minutes before.

Kyungjong slaps it away before Hajin can even touch him.

“What am I thinking?” Kyungjong echoes with a hint of a scoff. Hajin doesn’t even know if he wants to see the expression on Kyungjong’s face now, although he imagines it would be something like the one on his face that day they fought in front of the school and in the pool room. “You spend the whole day not bothering to spare me a single thought, and now you want to know what I’m thinking?”

He finally turns to face Hajin, his body shaking and his eyes desperate and bloodshot. He had probably cried in the shower, Hajin realizes, was probably minutes away from crying right now.

“Everyone forgot. You forgot, Hajin.” All Hajin can hear is bitterness, quiet and resigned, and that probably hurts more than having the truth flung back in his face.

How many hours had gone by, Hajin wonders, between the time Kyungjong had stormed off from their lunch date with Yerim and then stormed home? How many hours had he spent sitting alone somewhere, thinking of a breakfast that had gone unnoticed, of a day that had gone so horribly wrong? Of feeling lost and alone and everything Kyungjong should never have felt at all, let alone on his birthday. How long had Kyungjong cried, all alone with his family back in Busan and his friends being anything but?

Hajin hates himself for it all.

“Kyungjong. Kyungjong, I’m so—”

“I know you’re sorry,” Kyungjong says for him. His shoulders sag and he looks tired and tiny and older by more than just one measly year. “You’re all sorry. You’re sorry, Hyunsoo’s sorry, Jihyuk’s sorry, Doil’s sorry. But how sorry are we all gonna be when it happens again? I was here — sleeping in the same dorm, sitting at the same table — and you still forgot. How long until we forget Byunghee then? And not just his birthday, but his music, his face, his voice too?”

His own voice cracks just then, a tiny, broken sound that has no right coming out of Kyungjong’s mouth. When he turns to look away again, they both know he’s crying.

And the worst thing is that Hajin knows this is surely only a fragment of those hours Kyungjong had spent alone, when Hajin should have been there.

“What if one day, I just went back home to Busan? What if one day, I just left,” Kyungjong keeps going, his voice growing smaller and hoarser with every word, “and I never came back? How long would it be before everyone — before you — forgot about me too?”

Hajin can’t stand it anymore.

Never,” he answers. He suddenly finds himself with his arms wrapped around Kyungjong, his face buried in Kyungjong’s neck. Kyungjong’s skin is still warm and wet from his shower, and Hajin doesn’t know how he could ever forget how it feels for the rest of his life. “Never again.”

Instead of shrugging or shoving or fighting him off, Kyungjong lets him stay there, and if it weren’t for the ticking of their alarm clock, Hajin would have sworn time had frozen. He wishes it would as he tightens his hold on Kyungjong.

“You’re such a liar, you bastard.”

Kyungjong’s words are unnaturally sharp and unusually cold, almost enough to make Hajin let go of him. He’s heard them thousands of times — hundreds from Kyungjong alone — but this time, they sting and they cut and actually hurt. Knowing he deserves it, that one day he might accidentally prove those words true doesn’t help at all.

“Have I ever really lied to you, Kyungjong?” he asks quietly.

Kyungjong scoffs through his tears. “Have I ever really been wrong about anything, Hajin?”

There’s a heavy sigh and Hajin doesn’t know if it’s his or Kyungjong. All he knows is that he can’t stand this any longer — the tension in Kyungjong’s stance and the bitter words falling from his lips. He doesn’t want to think about forgetting anyone, not Byunghee and definitely not Kyungjong, never again. All he wants is for everything to be better, in a way it probably hasn’t been in ages.

“So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

Hajin almost winces at how awkward it feels, pretending that he’s just continuing one of their jokes. The cheeriness and light-heartedness of his tone is glaringly shallow and artificial, but he’s grasping at straws, at anything that could possibly fix this.

He’s the one who swallows now.

When Kyungjong shrugs off his arms, turns further away from him, and fixes his gaze on one of their bedroom walls, Hajin almost feels himself break. But then he sees the tiny twitch at the corner of Kyungjong’s lips, sees how Kyungjong quickly tries to wipe away any stray tears.

“I don’t trust you,” Kyungjong mutters bluntly and Hajin doesn’t know how he can be so casual about the fact that this could be the end for them because he can barely breathe, “I mean, I don’t trust you not to be a completely selfish idiot.”

The relief that floods his body manages to be both familiar and thrilling, like how every touch between the two of them has always been. It’s better than anything he’s ever felt — even Yerim agreeing to meet him for their lunch date with her perfect, sweet smile — and it takes everything in him not to do anything overly stupid that could wreck this still fragile reconciliation.

“How can you talk about me like that?” he whines, and this time the happiness in his voice is genuine, “I’m the best friend you’ve got, you punk!”

His next move is instinctive, like all of his actions towards Kyungjong usually are. His arms wrap around Kyungjong’s body, disregarding his relentless flailing and half-hearted protests, and suddenly everything is as it’s supposed to be. Kyungjong’s body pressed against his chest, Kyungjong’s head in the crook of his neck, Kyungjong smiling and laughing in spite of his bloodshot eyes and threatening to bludger him in his sleep with his own bass if Hajin doesn’t let go at that exact moment.

“You are the worst best friend ever,” Kyungjong groans with more exasperation than he probably feels after several minutes worth of an impromptu wrestling match. They’re both breathing heavy on the bed, Kyungjong nestled in-between Hajin’s arms where he rightfully belongs.

Hajin wraps his arms around Kyungjong even tighter. Never again, he thinks quietly as he listens to Kyungjong’s ever-growing list of increasingly ridiculous complaints about how and why Hajin is a horrible, horrible person.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Hajin finally asks once Kyungjong has started on about how Hajin’s existence is a waste of oxygen and dormspace. He exaggerates the pout on his face the same way Kyungjong exaggerates his pissy expression and soon both of their faces are probably so twisted up and ugly that neither of their families would recognize them, let alone want them if they froze that way.

Kyungjong’s screwed up expression eases up, as though he’s really giving the question some consideration, and Hajin feels himself get nervous at the possibilities.

“I wanna sleep here tonight!”

Hajin raises an eyebrow at Kyungjong before looking around them. “Wait, here? As in my bunk? You want to take my bed to make up for the fact that I’m a horrible person?”

No,” Kyungjong answers, rolling his eyes, “I want to share your bunk tonight to make up for the fact that you’re a horrible, birthday-forgetting best friend.”

Hajin brushes aside the obvious twist in the gut, not just because he deserves it, but because he’s desperate to keep that stupid, smug smile on Kyungjong’s face where it belongs.

“Fine, fine,” he concedes easily, “we don’t have to share though. I can just take yours—”

No, Hajin,” Kyungjong interrupts with a hint of steel in his voice. It’s enough to grab Hajin’s notice, and when he looks down at the boy in his arms, he somehow finds himself in a staring contest instead. “I want to share it with you.”

Hajin feels his skin prickle and heat rush up into his cheeks, although he’s not sure why. He’s suddenly aware of how close Kyungjong is, of the fact that he can see his reflection in Kyungjong’s eyes and feel every breath Kyungjong takes because they’re that close.

“That’s kind of… Isn’t that….” he finds himself stuttering, and he doesn’t know why that’s happening either. He and the others have shared beds before, falling asleep next to each other after a long day of music and mischief — he’s even had Kyungjong sleep over back before they all moved to the company’s dorm. It’s nothing new so it shouldn’t bother him, and yet suddenly he feels like they’re toeing a line he’s not sure he wants to cross.

Kyungjong sighs, turning away his face. He’s not fast enough to hide the fact that his smile is once again in danger of slipping off his face though, and Hajin feels his chest tighten in alarm.

“I just don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

And Hajin remembers what Kyungjong brought up earlier, about forgetting and being forgotten. He remembers how he felt at the thought of Kyungjong spending the whole day alone, of being the reason why Kyungjong spent the whole day alone because he wasn’t even being a good enough friend to remember Kyungjong’s birthday.

You know a word from you would mean a thousand times more than anything any of us could ever give him,’ Doil had told him, so while a single word is a pathetic thing to offer — is literally nothing compared to what Kyungjong actually deserves — Hajin hopes this counts.


Cross-posted: here and here.
Author's Note: This is set during episode 11 after Kyungjong's birthday party, as an expansion of the reconciliation scene between Hajin and Kyungjong. This was written around the time the episode actually aired, but I didn't post it onto kficrev liked I planned to for the same SUFBB anon I posted Types for because another anon scared me out of it. I am horribly thin-skinned.

The rest of this note is c/p from my LJ. It's pretty long, but it gives insight into my thought process.

There was one more section I wanted to add, where Hajin and Kyungjong are about to fall asleep and Kyungjong apologizes for ruining Hajin's date with Yerim, only they both know he's not really sorry. It was also supposed to cover Hajin's resentment of Hyunsoo, who is the most popular in Eye Candy and Yerim's favorite and the only one who actually remembered Kyungjong's birthday. But I just got tired? It seemed better to end with the acknowledgement that there's something more to their friendship and the potential of how far Hajin will go out of his comfort zone for Kyungjong, who obviously means more than Hajin realizes.

I hope I captured Hajin's... selfishness? Even as they were waiting for Kyungjong to come home so they could surprise him, he wanted to call Kyungjong home instead of properly waiting because it was inconvenient for him and he also manages to get himself off the hook despite the fact that during the bedroom scene, Kyungjong looked like he either cried or was on the verge of crying.

Another thing I hoped to capture was Kyungjong's mindset. He doesn't bring up being forgotten just because he's hurt because he's not the type to bring others down or bring things up. As one of the most sensitive characters on the show, I wanted to show that he knew the others were losing touch of things and that if he didn't say something (about Byunghee's memory) now, they were gonna lose their way even more. Honestly, the part about him going back to Busan was written before episode 14 where he is actually forced back by his mom to Busan, but it still works and could be another explanation for why Hajin is rather devastated at the thought of Kyungjong leaving them.

Fic: Types

Sep. 26th, 2012 10:27 pm
avirjin: (Default)
Title: Types
Fandom: Shut Up! Flower Boy Band
Focus: Hajin-centric, Hajin/Kyungjong
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Length: Oneshot (vignette), 631 words
Summary: Hajin knows there's a lot Kyungjong leaves unsaid. Hajin/Kyungjong UST

Movies aren’t something he usually does with the rest of the guys, instead reserved for pretty girls with short skirts and smooth legs and wandering hands. The older girls are even nice enough to pay for him if he butters them up with enough compliments and blatant flattery.

That’s probably why he feels so awkward, sitting on the floor of Hyunsoo’s bedroom as the six of them are watching a rented movie together. Hyunsoo and Jihyuk have claimed the bed, fighting over Hyunsoo’s blankets and occasionally hitting each other with one of his pillows, while Wookyung has — predictably — claimed the tiny space on the bed next to Jihyuk. Doil’s leaning against her knees, glancing up at her now and then like he thinks no one notices. Too bad for him Hajin’s an expert at all things involving girls and romance-driven desperation.

“Hey, isn’t that actor so cool?”

Kyungjong is sitting next to him, leaning against the bed and into his shoulder at the same time. It’s hard to imagine that they had just been upset with each other just a couple of hours ago, ignoring each other’s presence and biting back cruel words they wouldn’t have really meant.

Well, Hajin wouldn’t have meant most of it. He’s never quite sure about Kyungjong, who’s more complicated than any girl he’s ever dated. Kyungjong’s the one who sprouts all of that Busan manliness nonsense in the same breath as his sentimental declarations of affection and Hajin knows there’s a lot Kyungjong leaves unsaid. He just doesn’t know what.

“What,” he finally replies, and he fights back the urge to wrap an arm around Kyungjong’s shoulders, “you like him or something?” He keeps his tone light as he glances at the actor on Hyunsoo’s tiny television screen with his rippling abs and chiseled features and his sweat-drenched hair. He’s as alien to him as the rest of Jungsang’s student body and Hajin’s left wondering where his appeal is when he finally glances back at Kyungjong.

Even in the darkness of the room, he can tell Kyungjong is biting the inside of his cheek, biting his lower lip until it becomes slightly plumper than normal. It’s harder to keep from moving. Hajin wonders if it’s as hard for Kyungjong to keep silent.

“He’s not exactly my type,” Kyungjong laughs. He looks away, but Hajin still sees a hint of teeth on his lip.

His resolve breaks and he leans in closer, until he can comfortably rest his chin on Kyungjong’s shoulder. It’s a little unnerving how right it feels to be so close, although that’s probably from days of high tensions and voluntary separations and none of their friendly little love taps. Hajin would have considered it some sort of withdrawal if only that didn’t mean there was some sort of addiction in the first place. Who becomes addicted to slaps and hugs and another boy’s light fingers trailing down the small of his back?

“Our Kyungjong has a type now?” he asks — breathes, really — and he feels the sudden shiver of Kyungjong’s body. His body is so small and the shivers are too, but everything’s so warm and Hajin’s suddenly completely draped over Kyungjong like old times.

Kyungjong turns until their cheeks are practically touching, just staring and staring and biting his lip again. Hajin wonders what it is Kyungjong sees — in that actor, in himself — but suddenly, all he can see is a flash of pink as Kyungjong’s tongue quickly runs over his swollen lower lip.

Something like that,” Kyungjong chuckles, almost inaudible underneath the laughter of the others at the hero’s cheesy speech. The chuckles are a little awkward and stilted, but feelings are like that too, Hajin guesses.

His are a little like that too.

Original Post: http://kficrevolution.dreamwidth.org/2326.html?thread=9020950#cmt9020950
here and here.
Author's Note: This is set during episode 7 of the show, after the band converges at Hyunsoo's house and make up with each other. It was originally written for an SUFBB anon I was talking to at one of the fic memes. Any comments I have about writing it can be found at the original post, although it'll require some wading through fangirling feels.

June 2017



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