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Entry tags:
net dichotomy of youth ; cnu/jinyoung ; b1a4 [g]
+ the net dichotomy of youth; b1a4!91line
jinyoung and dongwoo have a conversation about things and they are not drunk | 860 w
(lj link)
"They'll love it."
"Yeah?"
"Hm, yeah. And you know it."
Dongwoo glanced over his shoulder, head lolling back against the wooden beam of the play structure. Jinyoung was still there, but in the dark, Dongwoo could make out nothing beyond the soft edges of what must have been the shadowed outline of his hair, the sloping fall of his shoulders, the faint stretch of a leg bent slightly at the knee.
"They love you—why are we doing this again?"
He heard Jinyoung shift. Shrug. "For the fame? Money?" A pause, another shrug, the hitch of denim snagged against wooden splinters. "The girls."
"Yes—" Dongwoo found himself agreeing, and then with a shake of a head that no one would see, "no, I meant this. They'll kill us if they find out—"
"—no they won't—"
"—and what are you talking about? It's to sing." Stop interrupting, Dongwoo wanted to say. Jinyoung laughed, chuckled, interrupting him again before his thoughts could travel further in the direction of I'm in this to sing, that's all and it's not for the fame, really.
"You're kidding yourself if you think that's true, Shin Dongwoo. And you know that too."
He did. Maybe. Dongwoo was pragmatic, he could admit to himself when he was wrong, when maybe things weren't quite as he thought they were. Pretty girls and eyeliner and clothes he'd never be caught dead in—
"Dongwoo?" A prodding at his shoulder—he didn't look back. Jinyoung might have turned around.
"What?" Or he might not have. Better not to know. Better not to see.
The racket of a leaned-on car horn was muted through distance, a disgruntled yell no more than a muffled whisper. The only response Jinyoung gave was the soft exhale of his breaths, and Dongwoo didn't pry.
"Mm?" Jinyoung hummed after a long moment where Dongwoo's eyes had fallen shut, tired after a day of heavy makeup and too much eye shadow.
"Oh, nothing," Jinyoung said, as if suddenly remembering that he had asked Dongwoo anything at all. "Good job today."
Dongwoo chuckled. "What, is praising me in your leader's contract?"
"My contract's the same as yours." Jinyoung shifted, jeans against sand and sneakers digging into gravel.
"I was kidding," Dongwoo said, and Jinyoung shifted again. His chin had dropped to his chest again. Dongwoo tilted his head back in consideration. "Fame, huh? Maybe. Maybe you're right."
Jinyoung smiled aloud. "It's fun."
Dongwoo rolled his eyes and hoped it was as obvious. "What are you talking about now?"
"They make you up, and in the end, someone else tears you down."
"Jinyoung?" Dongwoo frowned. His brows were already furrowed. There wasn't much further they could have gone. He furrowed them anyway.
"Girls, I mean," Jinyoung continued, as if Dongwoo wasn't frowning, as if Dongwoo hadn't interrupted.
Dongwoo sighed and played along. "The fans?"
Jinyoung shrugged again, silently, this time. "Sure, I guess. All they really want is your face—which is why I said they'll love it. They'll love you."
Dongwoo laughed quietly, breathlessly. "They already love you, though. Look at the boards."
"Them? They don't count. "
"Then who does?"
"Not you, for one."
"Thanks," Dongwoo chuckled. "I'm glad you noticed I'm not a girl."
There was a long, lazy pause, in which no one moved, in which not even the wind cared to move. Dongwoo's eyes drifted shut. In a vague burst of effort, he wondered if Jinyoung's eyes had closed at some point as well.
"We're not drunk anymore, are we," Jinyoung said.
"Why do you ask me these things when you know the answer to your own questions?"
"It's conversation, Dongwoo." A pause. "I'm tired."
"Well, yes, we could be in bed right now—"
"No, do you think we'll make it?"
"We? Or you."
"Mm, both."
The answer slipped towards the tip of his tongue. Dongwoo considered this for a moment. It sounded like it needed consideration. "Depends what we want," he finally said. "Depends what you want."
"I doubt they know what they want."
"Junghwan? Sunwoo? Chansik? You'd be surprised."
Jinyoung didn't answer immediately. "Should we go back?" he asked instead.
"What's the story?"
"The usual—late night walk, some quiet time, inspiration." Jinyoung would talk for them—the words would slide out as if they were the truth, as if they weren't hiding under the slide in a playground, three in the morning when no one would be here.
"So what's inspiring this time, leader Jung?" he asked.
"I'll just say you," Jinyoung answered without hesitation.
"Haha," Dongwoo laughed dryly. "Come on, let's go. Japanese lessons tomorrow morning, remember?"
"Like I'd forget. I'm the leader, remember?" Jinyoung's voice was a little softer than Dongwoo remembered.
"Like I'd forget that," Dongwoo said anyway.
"Aren't we a pair."
"And you still owe me a kiss." Teasing, this one was teasing.
Jinyoung laughed, a deep throated chuckle rumbling out from somewhere Dongwoo rarely saw. "Oh shut up, Shin Dongwoo, go get one from Junghwan if you're so desperate."
"Nah, just you," Dongwoo replied. He stood, and he heard Jinyoung stand behind him. They met on a third side of the pillar, the fourth untouched. Jinyoung leaned against Dongwoo's shoulder. His hands made a circle around Dongwoo's arm. Dongwoo decided that Jinyoung was still a little drunk. Or just more than a little tired.
A question spilled outwards—Dongwoo hesitated. "You think they'll like it?" he asked again. Slowly.
"Yeah, they will," Jinyoung answered. He laughed, quietly, this time. "They already do."
jinyoung and dongwoo have a conversation about things and they are not drunk | 860 w
(lj link)
"They'll love it."
"Yeah?"
"Hm, yeah. And you know it."
Dongwoo glanced over his shoulder, head lolling back against the wooden beam of the play structure. Jinyoung was still there, but in the dark, Dongwoo could make out nothing beyond the soft edges of what must have been the shadowed outline of his hair, the sloping fall of his shoulders, the faint stretch of a leg bent slightly at the knee.
"They love you—why are we doing this again?"
He heard Jinyoung shift. Shrug. "For the fame? Money?" A pause, another shrug, the hitch of denim snagged against wooden splinters. "The girls."
"Yes—" Dongwoo found himself agreeing, and then with a shake of a head that no one would see, "no, I meant this. They'll kill us if they find out—"
"—no they won't—"
"—and what are you talking about? It's to sing." Stop interrupting, Dongwoo wanted to say. Jinyoung laughed, chuckled, interrupting him again before his thoughts could travel further in the direction of I'm in this to sing, that's all and it's not for the fame, really.
"You're kidding yourself if you think that's true, Shin Dongwoo. And you know that too."
He did. Maybe. Dongwoo was pragmatic, he could admit to himself when he was wrong, when maybe things weren't quite as he thought they were. Pretty girls and eyeliner and clothes he'd never be caught dead in—
"Dongwoo?" A prodding at his shoulder—he didn't look back. Jinyoung might have turned around.
"What?" Or he might not have. Better not to know. Better not to see.
The racket of a leaned-on car horn was muted through distance, a disgruntled yell no more than a muffled whisper. The only response Jinyoung gave was the soft exhale of his breaths, and Dongwoo didn't pry.
"Mm?" Jinyoung hummed after a long moment where Dongwoo's eyes had fallen shut, tired after a day of heavy makeup and too much eye shadow.
"Oh, nothing," Jinyoung said, as if suddenly remembering that he had asked Dongwoo anything at all. "Good job today."
Dongwoo chuckled. "What, is praising me in your leader's contract?"
"My contract's the same as yours." Jinyoung shifted, jeans against sand and sneakers digging into gravel.
"I was kidding," Dongwoo said, and Jinyoung shifted again. His chin had dropped to his chest again. Dongwoo tilted his head back in consideration. "Fame, huh? Maybe. Maybe you're right."
Jinyoung smiled aloud. "It's fun."
Dongwoo rolled his eyes and hoped it was as obvious. "What are you talking about now?"
"They make you up, and in the end, someone else tears you down."
"Jinyoung?" Dongwoo frowned. His brows were already furrowed. There wasn't much further they could have gone. He furrowed them anyway.
"Girls, I mean," Jinyoung continued, as if Dongwoo wasn't frowning, as if Dongwoo hadn't interrupted.
Dongwoo sighed and played along. "The fans?"
Jinyoung shrugged again, silently, this time. "Sure, I guess. All they really want is your face—which is why I said they'll love it. They'll love you."
Dongwoo laughed quietly, breathlessly. "They already love you, though. Look at the boards."
"Them? They don't count. "
"Then who does?"
"Not you, for one."
"Thanks," Dongwoo chuckled. "I'm glad you noticed I'm not a girl."
There was a long, lazy pause, in which no one moved, in which not even the wind cared to move. Dongwoo's eyes drifted shut. In a vague burst of effort, he wondered if Jinyoung's eyes had closed at some point as well.
"We're not drunk anymore, are we," Jinyoung said.
"Why do you ask me these things when you know the answer to your own questions?"
"It's conversation, Dongwoo." A pause. "I'm tired."
"Well, yes, we could be in bed right now—"
"No, do you think we'll make it?"
"We? Or you."
"Mm, both."
The answer slipped towards the tip of his tongue. Dongwoo considered this for a moment. It sounded like it needed consideration. "Depends what we want," he finally said. "Depends what you want."
"I doubt they know what they want."
"Junghwan? Sunwoo? Chansik? You'd be surprised."
Jinyoung didn't answer immediately. "Should we go back?" he asked instead.
"What's the story?"
"The usual—late night walk, some quiet time, inspiration." Jinyoung would talk for them—the words would slide out as if they were the truth, as if they weren't hiding under the slide in a playground, three in the morning when no one would be here.
"So what's inspiring this time, leader Jung?" he asked.
"I'll just say you," Jinyoung answered without hesitation.
"Haha," Dongwoo laughed dryly. "Come on, let's go. Japanese lessons tomorrow morning, remember?"
"Like I'd forget. I'm the leader, remember?" Jinyoung's voice was a little softer than Dongwoo remembered.
"Like I'd forget that," Dongwoo said anyway.
"Aren't we a pair."
"And you still owe me a kiss." Teasing, this one was teasing.
Jinyoung laughed, a deep throated chuckle rumbling out from somewhere Dongwoo rarely saw. "Oh shut up, Shin Dongwoo, go get one from Junghwan if you're so desperate."
"Nah, just you," Dongwoo replied. He stood, and he heard Jinyoung stand behind him. They met on a third side of the pillar, the fourth untouched. Jinyoung leaned against Dongwoo's shoulder. His hands made a circle around Dongwoo's arm. Dongwoo decided that Jinyoung was still a little drunk. Or just more than a little tired.
A question spilled outwards—Dongwoo hesitated. "You think they'll like it?" he asked again. Slowly.
"Yeah, they will," Jinyoung answered. He laughed, quietly, this time. "They already do."