Ship/Member: Jeonghan/Seungcheol Major Tags:minor reference to a past physical altercation. Additional Tags: castmates and exes; optimist mingyu; jeongcheol (derogatory); the windup and resolve before a repeated bad decision Permission to remix: No.
sowwy lilli
***
Seungcheol crowds Jeonghan into the entry way of the hotel room, a snarl curling his lips. The elevator ride had offered silence after amicable, yet barbed banter at their convention panel.
When Jeonghan closes his eyes, he can see the headlines about their sizzling off-screen dynamic. Too close to be anything less than what their television dynamic suggests.
What they don’t know is that when it ended, it went up in flames. Too much, too fast, but it’s like Seungcheol to want everything at once, and it’s like Jeonghan to try to keep a distance between them.
There’s no distance here—someone in hospitality didn’t try hard enough to keep them on separate floors. Filming for their show had ended several weeks prior, so faking the smiles around their castmates is easy.
“We’re just one big family!” Mingyu had chirped into the mic, pausing for the crowds to cheer. Just like a family, a fractured mosaic of cursed artefacts. With the mics off, he can keep away.
But tonight is the last night before travel, and having Seungcheol stand so close is dizzying. It had taken months and months to smoke him out after the last time they’d ignited, but some things just stay under your skin.
Face on fire, Jeonghan cranes his neck and stands his ground, mouth twisting into a smile. “Do you need something, Cheolie?" Seungcheol flinches at the overfamiliarity. "You’ve been breathing down my neck all weekend long.”
It’s not untrue. Seungcheol has been watching him all weekend long, and Jeonghan has felt his eyes follow his every move.
And maybe, he’d prodded a little to move things along. Tonight will end the way it always does, and he wants to feel it, that searing pull.
Anger rises into Seungcheol's cheeks, eyes flashing with a heat-seeking edge that has Jeonghan’s toes curling.
“Why,” he laughs, humorless. “Do you think that I still want you?”
Jeonghan tilts his head. “Don’t you?”
The room stills.
Seungcheol licks his lips, staring down at Jeonghan like he’s not seeing him. His face softens for a half-second, the ghost of past romance possessing him before the muscle memory heartache sinks in like a knife.
“Fuck you,” he replies, voice wavering. He can’t get much closer than how close he is now, Jeonghan’s body pressed against the back wall, but the levy of resolve breaks.
Jeonghan’s shirt ends up on the ground, pants shoved down around his ankles and hands anywhere and everywhere they can grab and grope and claw. Seungcheol’s manhandles him like he’s trying to leave a mark, like the flinch before a fist punches through plaster or a scar from broken dishes.
Outside the room, feet thunder down the hall. Probably some event guests coming back from their night out, or families enjoying their stay in the city. In another life, they’re on the other side of the door. Out of the fire that threatens to consume them alive.
When they break away, Jeonghan’s pushed against the bathroom door, which is exactly what he wanted. Seungcheol has always been good at that—identifying Jeonghan’s needs.
“C’mon, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan challenges. Ever since Seungcheol followed him off the elevator, he’d known that this would be it. Selfishly, he hopes there won’t ever be a last time. “Gonna shut me up?”
“Someone’s eager.”
Jeonghan turns away before Seungcheol can see how red his ears are. Maybe the flames will finally swallow them whole. “Do your worst.”
FILL: won't let you smother it
Major Tags: minor reference to a past physical altercation.
Additional Tags: castmates and exes; optimist mingyu; jeongcheol (derogatory); the windup and resolve before a repeated bad decision
Permission to remix: No.
sowwy lilli
***
Seungcheol crowds Jeonghan into the entry way of the hotel room, a snarl curling his lips. The elevator ride had offered silence after amicable, yet barbed banter at their convention panel.
When Jeonghan closes his eyes, he can see the headlines about their sizzling off-screen dynamic. Too close to be anything less than what their television dynamic suggests.
What they don’t know is that when it ended, it went up in flames. Too much, too fast, but it’s like Seungcheol to want everything at once, and it’s like Jeonghan to try to keep a distance between them.
There’s no distance here—someone in hospitality didn’t try hard enough to keep them on separate floors. Filming for their show had ended several weeks prior, so faking the smiles around their castmates is easy.
“We’re just one big family!” Mingyu had chirped into the mic, pausing for the crowds to cheer. Just like a family, a fractured mosaic of cursed artefacts. With the mics off, he can keep away.
But tonight is the last night before travel, and having Seungcheol stand so close is dizzying. It had taken months and months to smoke him out after the last time they’d ignited, but some things just stay under your skin.
Face on fire, Jeonghan cranes his neck and stands his ground, mouth twisting into a smile. “Do you need something, Cheolie?" Seungcheol flinches at the overfamiliarity. "You’ve been breathing down my neck all weekend long.”
It’s not untrue. Seungcheol has been watching him all weekend long, and Jeonghan has felt his eyes follow his every move.
And maybe, he’d prodded a little to move things along. Tonight will end the way it always does, and he wants to feel it, that searing pull.
Anger rises into Seungcheol's cheeks, eyes flashing with a heat-seeking edge that has Jeonghan’s toes curling.
“Why,” he laughs, humorless. “Do you think that I still want you?”
Jeonghan tilts his head. “Don’t you?”
The room stills.
Seungcheol licks his lips, staring down at Jeonghan like he’s not seeing him. His face softens for a half-second, the ghost of past romance possessing him before the muscle memory heartache sinks in like a knife.
“Fuck you,” he replies, voice wavering. He can’t get much closer than how close he is now, Jeonghan’s body pressed against the back wall, but the levy of resolve breaks.
Jeonghan’s shirt ends up on the ground, pants shoved down around his ankles and hands anywhere and everywhere they can grab and grope and claw. Seungcheol’s manhandles him like he’s trying to leave a mark, like the flinch before a fist punches through plaster or a scar from broken dishes.
Outside the room, feet thunder down the hall. Probably some event guests coming back from their night out, or families enjoying their stay in the city. In another life, they’re on the other side of the door. Out of the fire that threatens to consume them alive.
When they break away, Jeonghan’s pushed against the bathroom door, which is exactly what he wanted. Seungcheol has always been good at that—identifying Jeonghan’s needs.
“C’mon, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan challenges. Ever since Seungcheol followed him off the elevator, he’d known that this would be it. Selfishly, he hopes there won’t ever be a last time. “Gonna shut me up?”
“Someone’s eager.”
Jeonghan turns away before Seungcheol can see how red his ears are. Maybe the flames will finally swallow them whole. “Do your worst.”