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j-a-nuary · 2 months ago

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Date Roulette: Jiyong

Wednesday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

=====

Warning level: suggestive

=====

Seunghyun had refused. He refused a lot of things. The only thing that I was truly annoyed with however was his refusal to tell me about how his conversation with Jiyong had gone last night. I knew that Jiyong wouldn't be able to resist telling me all about it though. He'd probably start by acting like I'd personally betrayed him too.

Such were the vague thoughts circling through my slowly waking mind.

But then I was pulled against a bare chest, and a hand started tracing up my side. His fingers skimmed along my skin, leaving the faintest touches behind like ripples.

I hummed, enjoying the attention washing over me.

The hand paused.

I made a whining noise in my throat.

The hand landed firmly on my hip, a throaty chuckle sounding behind me as lips met the skin on the back of my shoulder.

"You're awake."

It wasn't exactly a question, so I didn't exactly answer it.

Instead I turned, maneuvering so I could swing one leg over Seunghyun's hip. I ran my hand through his hair, stopping to grip the hair at the back. I directed his mouth to my own.

He laughed, letting a few kisses lane before turning onto his back.

I tried to follow him, such as it was, but he held me off.

"Hyun…" I whined, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Baby, I have to leave before everyone gets up."

=====

Seunghyun slipped back out of the glass doors, trying to avoid the cameras in the hall. Somewhere, deep in my stomach, a stone dropped into the previously calm water. A feeling like shame rippled outwards, threatening to spill out.

I'm being kept secret.

I resisted the thought, deciding to get up and see what today's plan was.

As soon as I stood, I was taken over by dizziness. I immediately sat back down. Glancing around, I spotted the wine glasses that had been left on the vanity. I took a minute to steel myself before slowly making my way to the vanity. Lifting both glasses, I felt myself sway slightly.

It took another rest at the vanity, a second sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, four wine glass-fulls of water, and a round of catching up on texts before I could rouse the ability to get dressed.

From: Hugeboy I was thinking about you~ From: Hugeboy I keep thinking about you (♡◇♡) From: Hugeboy It makes me want to text you |ω･) From: Hugeboy You're always so busy (´Д` ) From: Hugeboy I'll see something and want to send you a picture but I feel like I'm bothering you orz

There were a few messages from Soo-ah as well. They were mostly a series of links to apartment listings, but she also included a photo of herself visiting Ttungbo in the kennel.

I spotted an expensive pair of sneakers sticking out from the bottoms of some baggy jeans behind her. There was no doubt in my mind that they belonged to Bobby.

=====

"Glasses day?"

I groaned, hoping the tone was enough to answer Daesung's question. Shuffling to the breakfast bar, I posted up on one of the stools and bent forward to lay on the counter.

"Ay, bendita…" a hand gently patted my hair, "drink too much last night?"

I turned my head so I could blink up at Daesung.

"What?"

He gave me a smile before turning towards the fridge. Opening the door, he bent at the waist as he spoke up again.

"Taeyang mentioned that he thought you and Jiyong went for drinks or something. Said," he stood up and turned towards me, a small hangover drink in hand, "you were acting weird. Here."

He cracked the seal, opening the bottle before placing it on the counter next to me. Task done, he turned and started opening cabinets.

I struggled to decide which end of the conversation to tackle first. A phrase about eating frogs floated through my mind.

Pushing myself to sit up, I pulled the drink closer.

"What else did Taeyang say?"

I chugged the bottle, hoping it would somehow soften whatever was said next.

He hummed, pulling a pan out and clicking the range on.

"That you seemed glad to be interrupted."

How diplomatic. I set the now empty bottle aside, leaning forward onto my elbows.

"He's not wrong."

I picked at my nails, not really wanting to go much further. Still, I knew it was somewhat unavoidable. The proximity of everyone, the nature of people… it would probably be better to just have a conversation than to let things get all clouded and smoky with assumptions and half…

Smoky.

My nose twitched.

Looking up, I saw Daesung standing in front of the stove top. He was staring at the pan in front of him, but obviously not seeing it.

"Dae," I called him quietly.

No response.

"Daesung." I was more firm this time, "the butter."

He shook his head, coming back to himself.

"Shit," he grabbed the pan and lifted it off of the range. He set it aside, onto an unlit section, before turning to face me.

I shook my head, "turn that off."

"Right," he turned back and fumbled with the knob until the flame disappeared. Kitchen no longer in danger of burning down, he set his sights back on me.

Thus commenced the staring match. I was willing to let it stretch as long as possible, but I could see him getting twitchy after a few seconds.

Sighing, I leaned back on the barstool.

"Just ask, Dae."

"What happened with Seungri?"

I stared at him. Did he really not know? And what was the point in knowing?

After a moment, I shook my head.

"Ask something else."

Daesung had the decency to look ashamed. He nodded to himself for a moment before taking a breath to speak.

"Did Jiyong…" he paused, apparently struggling to come up with the right words.

"It's not the same," I interrupted him, "it's more… just… confusing."

"Confusing," he echoed me.

"If I could explain it, I would."

Shaking his head, he turned back towards the stove.

"You don't have to explain," he pulled paper towels from the cupboard and started cleaning the burned butter from the pan. "As long as he didn't… hurt you."

I tried to decipher the vibes of the kitchen. He didn't sound too upset. That was part of it but he was being cautious too - understandable, given the topic.

I didn't exactly want to contribute to what I was interpreting as him being concerned, but I also didn't want to keep everything to myself.

"Not physically anyway," I said it quietly, giving him the option of pretending he hadn't heard, "and not on purpose, I think."

Daesung sighed, shoulders slumping. He kept his attention on the food he was preparing this time when he spoke.

"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, pet."

I shrugged, laying down to once again press my cheek onto the cool stone of the counter.

"This is just how I have to live for now."

I let my eyes close, warding against the building ache in my head and slight nausea that was creeping its way through my gut.

Daesung let me indulge in the self-soothing that was laying on the counter in silence. I listened to him move around the kitchen, soaking up the sounds and smells of his breakfast. Sizzling, crackling, tapping, scraping… I didn't have the neurological predisposition towards ASMR, but this must have been pretty close.

A distinctly ceramic dragging sound and slight thunk sounded like it was directly next to my head.

"Eat."

I peeked a single eye open. My sight was greeted by a plate of toast. Not just any toast though. Daesung had cut the center out of the bread and fried it with an egg. I closed my eye again, smiling.

"You're wonderful," I mumbled as I forced myself to sit up. "A delight, even."

=====

"Do you mind if I just…" I indicated the mouse in the staffer's hand.

She nodded, rolling her seat back a little to make room.

"You're familiar with it?" She asked.

"I'm more familiar with CAD," I mumbled, focusing more on the screen in front of me, "but SketchUp is fine."

"I thought you were an accountant."

I swapped the sofa and loveseat for a sectional and a shelf, creating a half wall to clearly define the spaces for eating and lounging.

"After I switched majors, yeah."

She fell silent, her assigned purpose for the day made obsolete.

The idea for this experiment was to test compatibility through interior design. I thought that's what it was anyway. We were each paired with someone who understood the software, given a blank rendering of an apartment, and told to fill the digital space to our liking.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if there was another date on the line. They hadn't really thrown something like that in since the musical with Seunghyun. Had it not scored well with test audiences?

"Ugh," I couldn't stop the sound from exiting my mouth.

"Something wrong?"

I looked at the staffer, brain drawing a blank on how to explain the noise away.

"Oh," I was not off to a great start. "I just… um…"

"The color? Here," she rolled closer and took the mouse back. She shot me a brief smile as she moved. Conspiratorial, almost. Knowing.

I gave her a smile that was half grimace. Why was she covering for me? Was it a skill that all entertainment staff had? Or was it that often mysticalized feminine bond?

"Do you often work like this?"

She glanced up at me, quickly settling her eyes back on the computer screen.

"Not really," she tilted her head, making a few adjustments to the furniture on screen. "This is my first time, actually. What do you think?"

She indicated the screen.

I was blasted with dusty pink shades to go with the green options I had chosen. I made an effort to reign in my facial expression.

"Maybe a cream color instead?"

She nodded, and turned back to make the change.

"So what sort of work do you usually do?" I asked.

It was nice, talking to a normal person for a moment. I didn't have to fake my curiosity, or cover up what I already knew.

A bit of musical theater popped into my head.

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

"-artments for rich types."

Shit. I had totally spaced out on her answer.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Oh," I shrugged, "I mean… I was doing the teacher thing for a while."

She let a small laugh out through her nose. I couldn't tell if it was in derision or just because of how common of a story it was.

"Stereotypical, right?" I joked.

Another nose laugh.

"But I finished studying and taking the KICPA test while I was doing that. So now…" I shrugged, "I'm not really sure."

"That's pretty specific," she replied, "how can you be unsure? Like this?"

I looked at the screen again. This time I was met with a much more calming, to me anyway, color pallette. Deep greens, warm creams… something out of a young adult novel about elves.

"I like it."

"Picasso."

We both broke down in giggles at that.

=====

Apparently, Seunghyun and I shared a "sense of movement." At least, that's what the expert said.

The six of us sat in an office, being shown each others' designs, while a not-quite-yet-elderly man explained the ways I was similar - or dissimilar - to each of the boys.

Daesung and I both had designed spaces that looked a bit like hobbit holes. Both of us shared an affinity for books and something like organized clutter. Where I had plants, he had an aquarium, both being examples of bringing nature inside.

Seunghyun and I shared ideas about how to move through the space. We had all been given the same floor plan, so I had thought we would each design something fairly similar in that way. But apparently Seunghyun and I were the only ones who had lent much thought to what it would be like to physically inhabit the space.

Taeyang shared my affinity for plants, but that was just about the sum total of our matching. Where I had placed a bookshelf intended for board games, he had put an upright piano. I supposed that made sense.

Jiyong was clearly a minimalist, but we apparently both intended to host others in that imaginary apartment. His design was probably best described as being sterile, but accommodating. Extra seating in the dining area, that sort of thing.

Seungri's design… well…

If you had asked me to design a space intended to be secretly unwelcoming, I might have done something like his. He had a sideboard positioned in such a way that I could easily imagine guests bumping their hip on it as they passed. The entire thing was, in a word, haphazard. It may have just been because he didn't take the task seriously, but it unnerved me.

Where the expert saw a lack of design smarts, I saw an apartment that was built to keep guests off balance.

Maybe that was a less than generous way of thinking about it, but I didn't think so. Regardless, possibly for the sake of the cameras, the other boys teased him about his perceived shortcoming.

I declined to join in the "fun" with them. Maybe a month ago I would have teased him as well but, knowing what I knew now, I couldn't force myself to make light of it.

Instead, I just nodded, acting like the designer was offering some enlightening explanation. A treatise on the connection between personality and decorating.

"So, in conclusion," the man clasped his hands together for just a moment, "I'd say that you three…"

He gestured at Seunghyun, Jiyong, and Daesung in turn.

"... are the best matches for Miss Luna here. Just," he shrugged, "in different ways."

"We already knew that," Taeyang laughed.

"Did we?" Seungri asked.

I wanted to hit him. Good lord how I wanted to hit him and hit him and hit him and hit him and h…

"You don't agree?" The expert asked.

"I think opposites can attract each other," Seungri shrugged. He turned to me. He addressed me, directly, for the first time in… how long? Two weeks? Three?

"We got along pretty well at the beginning, right?"

Silence filled the room as I pointedly ignored him. I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel the others getting more and more tense. I saw the expert's eyes flicking about the room, landing on each of us briefly before moving to the next.

I chose to trust the editors to take care of it.

"That can be true," Jiyong finally broke the silence, "but some people can be too different."

"I don't think we're that different."

There was a smile in his voice - a smile that I refused to look to confirm. I didn't know what fucking game he was playing, but I refused to play it with him.

"Isn't that a contradiction?" Taeyang asked. "Saying opposites attract, and then saying you two are similar? What's this guy saying?"

Taeyang laughed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was a practiced sound - disingenuous, but not obviously so.

"The whole point of the exercise was to find compatibility," the expert reminded us. "If you're unhappy with the results, you should reflect on why it came out that way."

=====

An envelope was waved, a staffer announcing that there was another date on the line. Someone suggested I choose my favorite apartment design. Someone else said that would be too much like a spoiler for my final choice.

More suggestions, more rebuttals.

I backed out of the decision-making process, citing the aforementioned spoiler concern. Instead, I sort of… disconnected. Standing to the side, I was aware of the people around me. On autopilot, I rocked on my heels, waiting for a decision to be made.

In true Kpop reality television style, it came down to rock-paper-scissors.

Taeyang excused himself from the trial, saying it should only be the top three - as decided by the design expert. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a note to thank him for that. Not so much for removing himself, but for creating a situation where Seungri didn't really have the option to participate.

It took six rounds, but eventually, Jiyong approached me. He grinned, offering me his hand.

"It's fate," he winked as he said it.

I blinked, coming back to myself. I felt a bit like I was waking up - groggy.

"Is that it?"

The question came out quieter than I intended. My gut twisted briefly, a bit of self-loathing triggered by the demure sound of my own voice. Oh well. It would probably play well with some part of the audience.

He tilted his head, smile not faltering thanks to years of idol training. I could see it in his shoulders, though, his chest angling silently to put more of himself between me and the others.

"Of course, my love.”

=====

“I have to admit,” Jiyong said while waiting for his manicure to set, “I convinced production to switch what they had planned for the date.”

He had suggested that we go to a salon he knew to have a combination of getting ready and getting pampered.

“What had they planned?”

“The premier showing of that movie,” he paused, checking his nails. “I don't remember the name. The post-rebellion mega-corporation one.”

I nodded, ignoring the minor heat-spike of my own nails curing under a lamp.

��The one that people said looks like Black Knight, right?”

Jiyong hummed, “with Woobin? Yeah.”

I nodded, humming a small acknowledgment as I watched the nail technician apply starry stencils to my nails.

“Did you choose a color?” The technician asked.

“A deep pink would look good,” Jiyong suggested.

The technician stood, hand already reaching for the pink and red section of the display.

“I want green,” I called out.

The technician paused, glancing between Jiyong and me.

“Like an apple,” I insisted.

She still seemed unsure.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from saying something mean.

“That would be cute too,” Jiyong nodded.

Finally, the technician moved. She passed the reds, purples, and blues, coming to a stop where the greens and yellows were kept. Quickly selecting two bottles, she returned to her seat across from me.

“It's good that you two share tastes,” she commented. “Which one do you prefer?”

I blinked in the direction of the bottles, not fully absorbing the difference between the shades as I fought back a swirl of rage. I couldn't even pinpoint exactly which part of the interaction had annoyed me. The way Jiyong had spoken up - expecting his opinion to matter? The way the technician had clearly waited for him to approve of my choice? Sure, he had insisted he was paying, but these were still my nails. My nails, on my fingers. My body.

I realized I had been staring at the bottles for too long.

“The lighter one,” I decided just to be done with it.

“And for the accent nail?”

I actually did put a little bit of thought into that. I lifted a hand, looking over the stencils.

“You know those blush nails? Or aura?”

The technician nodded.

“That,” I laid my hand back onto the cushioned rest in front of me, “with the same green.”

=====

“How are you feeling?”

The manicures were done. I was sat in the passenger seat of a car that had previously thrilled me. But right now, it just annoyed me. It was ostentatious. It was meant to impress, and I had fallen for it.

“Fine,” my voice sounded empty, despite the overly practiced upward lilt.

“Good,” Jiyong busied himself with pulling out of the parking space, “I thought you might be tired.”

Here it is.

I was sure we had finally reached the point where he'd interrogate me about being with Seunghyun last night. The revelation of whatever they had discussed.

“I planned something a little quieter tonight,” he explained, “just in case.”

=====

I tried to ignore the semi-quiet of the restaurant. Jiyong must have done some form of reflecting on our past conversations because he at least didn't reserve the entire place. Still, it was clear that he wanted us to be alone. Thus, we had an entire room to ourselves.

I could tell from the layout that it was at least two sections. Perhaps three, depending on if the fireplace warranted its own division.

In light of everything I had come to know about Jiyong, I knew that this was probably the best compromise he could come up with. I, having repeatedly asked for normalcy, had the comfort of knowing there were other patrons elsewhere. He, wanting complete privacy, at least had the comfort of being out of view of the others.

“I feel like I should only whisper,” I whispered, “it feels like a library or something.”

Maybe I was playing up the naivete, but I knew the conversation was coming eventually. It was now my main mission to make it through the meal and back to the house while avoiding it.

Jiyong smiled. For a second, I saw the way he had looked at me while helping me get ready for the theater. The smile was all soft edges.

“Should we play a game?” He whispered back.

A thousand texts messages, cocky voices, and snapchats floated into one cohesive phrase in my mind.

If this motherfucker said twenty questions I would simply leave.

“What sort of game?”

His smile shifted somehow, going from soft to mischievous. I prepared myself to relive the cliche.

“Whoever stops whispering first loses.”

I glanced towards the decorative folding screen. behind it was the arched doorway that led to the bar and main entrance. The game was just stupid enough to appeal to me.

“What about when the waiter comes?” I asked, careful to keep whispering.

Jiyong pursed his lips, thinking over what sort of rules there should be. After a few seconds, he nodded.

“Okay,” he spoke even softer than before. “We must whisper when we're alone, but with others, we can speak normally.”

I nodded in agreement, “okay. Penalty for losing?”

Jiyong shrugged, “just a favor for the winner.”

I squinted at him. He looked only mischievous, not malignant. A puckish man that might play a joke but wouldn't full-on attack me.

I nodded.

“Okay,” I whispered.

=====

It was clear neither of us was planning on losing.

The meal passed quietly. The post meal drinks were near silent. The meandering walk around side streets was as hushed as a church.

“Are churches quiet?” I asked. Even my whisper sounded loud after an extended moment of silence.

“What?”

“I was just thinking that this is as quiet as being in church,” I shrugged, “but I don't go to church. So I don't know if that's true or not.”

He hummed, thinking it over before answering.

“It depends on the church,” Jiyong explained, “and what part of the service it is.”

That made enough sense. There were about four thousand different flavors of church. Some were bound to be silent.

I let maybe two more minutes of quiet pass before whispering again.

“I don't think either of us is going to give up on this bet.”

Jiyong stopped walking. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he was nodding slowly. He pursed his lips as he watched me stop and turn to face him.

“I think you're right,” he softly agreed.

“Should we call it a draw?”

Tilting his head, that mischievous grin spread across his face once more.

I squinted at him, waiting for his answer.

Staring at each other, I couldn't help but think of the silly editing that would no doubt happen for this moment. The thought made it difficult to resist glancing at the staff member holding a camera.

“No,” Jiyong whispered.

A split second later, he darted towards me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted. Spinning once, he set me down with a victorious look on his face.

“That's not fair!” I complained, “you surprised me! Squealing doesn't count!”

“But you're not whispering now either.”

“You cheated!” I forced myself back to a whisper as I protested.

“This would have gone on forever if I didn't do something.”

He leaned forward, tilting his head with that practiced cuteness that all idols have. Camera training on bold display.

Camera… right.

I pulled away from him, smoothing out my outfit.

“Alright,” I said. My normal speaking tone still sounded so loud, but I ignored that. “What do you want for winning?”

Jiyong hummed, dramatically drawing the droning sound on. He took a step away from me in the direction we had been walking.

“You didn’t have anything planned?”

He turned to face me again, holding his hand out towards me.

I paused, just long enough to make him speak up again.

“Hold my hand while we walk.”

“Is that your request?”

Jiyong laughed, dropping his hand for a moment while he shook his head.

“It is a request, but not my prize,” he lifted his hand again, “will you humor me while I think?”

=====

My hand was still in his when we arrived back at the house.

I went to drop the hold when we approached the door, which, of course, only spurred him to grip my hand tighter.

“Wait,” he tugged me back from the door, to the side of the front stoop with a little less light.

“What?”

The rest of the walk until now had been quiet. It had been nice. I had asked a few times about what he wanted, but he had only said that he was thinking and would tell me when we got back to the house.

And here we were.

Jiyong dropped my hand, but only so he could quickly unplug both of our lapel mics.

“Ji-yah…”

He shook his head slightly, fingers quickly tugging the batteries out of the mic-packs.

Once he was satisfied with our relative privacy, he turned to face me. He tucked both of my hands into his own. Clearly, he wasn’t above pleading.

“Sleep with me.”

I felt my face twitch, opening my mouth to say… something.

“Not like that!” Jiyong quickly defended himself.

I narrowed my eyes but waited for him to explain himself.

“I just mean…” a less confident man would have stammered, “like before.”

I thought back, remembering falling asleep on his chest at the hotel. It had been nice, feeling the rise and fall of his body as he breathed slowly next to me on those few nights. Still…

“We’ve talked about this.”

For a moment, just long enough to make it impossible to brush off as nothing, anger rolled over his face. His hands, still gripping my own, tightened.

I could feel the pace of my heart pick up, my nerves tingling with alertness. With fear. I opened my mouth, unsure what was going to come out.

“Oppa…”

It wasn't a word I used often. I knew that many men disliked the way it sounded on a foreigner's tongue and that some others liked it a bit too much. But at that moment, I only remembered that it was the only way I could break my ex out of his ramping anger. My chest tightened, waiting, hoping, for it to have a similar effect on Jiyong.

It did its work.

My hands were dropped, and that look on his face quickly transformed into a much more familiar one of regret.

“My love…”

“I'll go in first.”

I couldn't let him talk. He was too good at talking. I knew he was. Given the time to talk, he'd convince me. By appealing to pity, sympathy, or something else, he would convince me. So, I pushed past him and made my way inside.

=====

There were some bodies in the common areas of the house, but I didn't take enough notice of them to match them to names. Within thirty seconds, I was pushing my bedroom door shut and locking it for good measure.

Then there was nothing. My body still wanted to run, but there was nowhere else to go. This was the safest place that was immediately available. There was a locked door between me and everyone else.

I glanced at the sliding glass door.

Scrambling over the bed, not taking the two extra seconds to simply walk around it, I rushed to make sure that it was locked as well. For extra security, I pulled the curtains shut tightly.

One locked door in either direction. I was invisible.

It still didn't feel like enough.

Which was how I found myself, fully clothed, sitting in the center of the giant tub. It was empty. But the bathroom provided an additional locked door, and something about the tub created a feeling of security.

I pulled out my phone and stared at it. Soo-ah would answer, but would she understand? Mino would definitely answer and probably offer to come get me - regardless of if it causes more problems later on. Seunghyun… were we really close enough for me to call him about being scared of one of his members? Would Daesung be able to resist telling the others what happened?

Shaking slightly, I kept running through possible contacts for a few minutes before finally deciding.

The phone rang through to voicemail.

“Damn it.”

I hung up, slouching over until my head hit the bottom of the tub.

Who else? There had to be someone else that I hadn't thought of yet.

My phone rang, surprising me so badly that I fell over from my kneeling position. Without even looking at the caller ID, I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Who are we damning?”