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Sangwoo can't help it, no matter how hard he tries he can't ignore the burning pit of jealousy that sits in his stomach. It clogs his throat and invades his bloodstream until all he can remember is Ali's skin against his own, and the warmth of his body in his hands, and the soft sounds he used to make. He's infuriated and so pathetically jealous it's embarrassing. Ali isn't his anymore, Ali hasn't been his for three months now. And it's cruel, so cruel, how Sangwoo is still hung up on him, unable to forget his absence. When he wakes up, he still expects to see the thick head of curls on the pillow beside his. He still comes home waiting to be engulfed in Ali's arms and he's stupid because Ali has moved on. There's someone new in his embrace. And it's not Sangwoo.
The glass in his hands should've cracked by now, he's clenching it so tightly: his knuckles are white and his eyes are cold and his heart is empty. The dark lights of the club don't do much because Ali stands out to him, like a single star in the sky. And the light Sangwoo once used to bask in, is for someone else. The man gulps the rest of the drink down, throwing his head back relishing the burn of it. He's not drunk, it's his first drink of the night but he'd prefer being drunk than being like this. He's all alone, cold and sad. He watches wretchedly as the man who's got his heart captive spends the night with someone else.
Sangwoo's been stuck in a cycle since the night Ali left. All he really thinks about is where he went wrong. The once warm nights faded out and now his bed is always empty and his house is always silent. He dreams of a day where he finds Ali and asks him what had happened, what had ruined them? He dreams it every night but it can't be a reality: Sangwoo wouldn't know what to say. In fact, he has a lot to tell Ali, a lot to get off his chest but it doesn't sound right on his tongue. It's all a mess, insanity takes over. Sangwoo doesn't trust his brain. So when he wakes up every morning, with bruised, red eyes and a tender heart, he can't stop himself from reaching out for Ali. But he's met with the cold air.
He wonders if Ali has seen him. Sangwoo doubts it because Ali has been staring at the man all night. He remembers Ali's smile, remembers the way his eyes light up and he remembers the way he used to make Ali laugh. Sangwoo knows Ali isn't happy here, he's nodding along and forcing smiles but that isn't Ali. That isn't the man he loves. But then maybe Sangwoo is delusional, maybe Ali wasn't truly happy with him and this is him being happy now? He scoffs at himself; he pities himself; he orders another glass.
His back is to the crowds and his eyes are trained on the rim of the glass, finger trailing over it absentmindedly.
Sangwoo thinks back to that dreadful night, the words they had said but Sangwoo hadn't meant a thing. He was angry and so was Ali and their flames had eventually sizzled out. Sangwoo tells everyone he's okay, tells them that he's moved on but he hasn't. He knows he hasn't, he still wants Ali back.
Hell, he's a mess.
His hair sticks out messily, a consequence of running his fingers through it so often. The top button of his shirt was forced to come off because he's sweating so much. He pushes the cool glass away, ready to leave.
Lies.
He's not leaving, he's gonna sit in the dark and pity himself. Try to catch a glimpse of Ali's smile and a hint of laughter and then wait for the beautiful man to leave with his new lover. And Sangwoo is gonna stay here until he's been kicked out.
The businessman tiredly pushes through the crowd, dragging his heavy limbs to a table in the dark. His exhausted eyes begin their search for Ali again, Sangwoo can't seem to find him and the fact startles him. He wasn't ready for Ali to leave. He can't be alone again—he jumps up, like a mad man, searching for the last bit of sanity he has.
He doesn't know why Ali's disappearance startles him, his heart is pounding and he wants to box himself up and cry. Drink, and get drunk and sleep somewhere, maybe with someone—not sex. He just doesn't want to go home to an empty bed. Sangwoo is near a breakdown.
The man paces through the crowds, the flashing lights hurt his eyes.
Am I going crazy? He thinks.
His head whips around until he sees him and suddenly, Sangwoo regrets coming. Maybe he should've stayed back. He wants to burn his heart and bleach his eyes because Ali hasn't left, no, he's with that stranger, in a booth and Sangwoo feels sick.
That should be him.
He should be the one on that seat, with Ali so close he's nearly on Sangwoo's lap. His lips should be the ones Ali is kissing.
But they're not, they cold and chapped and he keeps longing for someone he can't have.
The dim lights don't hide anything, he can see it all. The strangers hands trailing down Ali's back, pulling him close. Ali has his hands around the man's neck, how he used to be with Sangwoo but they dangle off him, not in his hair. Ali used to liked Sangwoo's hair: he liked knitting his fingers in the black tufts. He's not touching the strangers hair.
And then he feels it: the rage floods his system and all Sangwoo can see is red.
His fists are right by his side, watching helplessly as Ali advances closer, kissing the man with a hunger Sangwoo craves to feel. His heart halts. Ali has pulled back, lips trailing up the man's neck—Sangwoo should leave but he doesn't because Ali is hesitating.
The curly haired man pulls the stranger in closer, eyes dark and wide as he turns his head back, locking eyes with Sangwoo. The Korean gulps heavily. He's been caught, or it seems Ali has been aware about his presence for a while now.
Sangwoo looks into those beautiful eyes adamantly, he grits his teeth as Ali's eyes flutter shut, lips forming small circles. The man is ravaging Ali's neck, the one place of Ali's body that Sangwoo worshipped more than anything. It should be reserved for him and him only. He stalks towards them, Ali's now open eyes light up and Sangwoo, despite being furious, can't ignore the small beam of hope lighting up his heart.
Maybe...he had another chance?
He's so close to the pretty boy, an arms length away and Ali is looking at him so intently he's forgotten why he was so angry. It pains him to take a left, he passes the doors; the cool night breeze kisses his damp skin. He exhales heavily.
He wonders if Ali wants him too.
The tired man leans against the rough bricks walls, fingers itching to pull out a cigarette but he stops himself. He can wait. He does. The man leans his head back, chin titled to the stars.
He's not sure how long he's been there but the club door swings open. It creaks: old with age, and Sangwoo keeps his eyes trained on the stars. Footsteps slide against gravel and Sangwoo closes his eyes with relief; he can hear Ali's breathing. Smell his rugged scent. He's got his boy back.
The tension between them is so high Sangwoo hates it because they're not like this, they've never been so tense around each other. He licks his chapped lips and rolls his head to the side, no longer punishing himself from the sight of Ali.
The shorter man is standing to Sangwoo's left, timidly. His hair fluffed up and his skin pink. He looks sad, tired: just like Sangwoo. He hadn't noticed that inside. His heart clenches, had he done that?
Ali's the first to speak and upon his hearing his voice, Sangwoo lets out a well earned breath.
"Hyung?"
"Ali."
They despise the bitter night air.
"Why are you here?"
Sangwoo can't help it anymore, he reaches for a cigarette and Ali frowns.
"Don't smoke."
"Why? It doesn't hurt you."
The shorter man sighs, leaning against the walls. He knows he hasn't got the right to stop Sangwoo but that doesn't mean he won't try.
"Why are you here?" The older tries again. Ali glances up at him with wide eyes, head cocked to the side and Sangwoo hates him for it. He's got too much power over him and he's worried that he'll fall to his knees for the younger man. If Ali were to tell him again to not smoke, he's certain he would've dropped the small stick to the rough concrete.
"Can I not enjoy myself?" Sangwoo mumbles, placing the cigarette between his lips and sighing.
"You're enjoying yourself?"
"No."
"Oh."
Sangwoo laughs out of jealousy. "Who's with you inside? What's his name?"
Ali's brows knit together, he looks to the ground. "That's none of your business."
Sangwoo laughs again: it's empty and cold.
"Why were you looking at me?"
"Why did you call me out?"
They stop themselves from talking, faint pink hues under their skin. Sangwoo rubs his temples. "I miss you."
The darkness comforts Sangwoo, he can't see Ali and that calms him down. He's being selfish, asking for him back.
"I hate you." Ali sounds like he will cry. "You ended it. I hate you, don't ever talk to me again."
Sangwoo nods stiffly. He watches Ali turn away, back still pressed to the wall but his eyes are shiny and he shares his sadness with the stars. Sangwoo feels terrible. He reaches for his hand, pulls him closer so their arms touch and Ali sniffs quietly, weakly resisting him.
"I'm sorry Ali." With the cigarette propped between his lips, his fingers are free and he wipes the dampness on Ali's cheeks away. Fingers lingering on the warm skin.
Ali closes his eyes and nods. "I'm sorry, too."
The taller man pulls Ali in close, so his head hides in Sangwoo's shirt and Ali lets himself fall, craving Sangwoo's comfort. He sighs, breaths shaky as he feels the familiar touch of Sangwoo caressing his hair, nimble fingers working their way through the curls. Ali closes his eyes in bliss.
The fingers travel behind his ear and down his jaw, tracing the lines on his neck. Ali's eyes are still closed in ignorant rapture, he's finally home. Sangwoo's arms feel perfect around him, the smell of his sharp cologne, and nicotine sticks to his clothes and Ali breathes it in, nosing at the revealed skin of his chest. Sangwoo enjoys the silence, the pads of his fingers brush against the warm skin of Ali's neck, trailing down to his collarbones. He feels Ali shiver.
The younger man is like a puppy, so eagerly satisfied with the attention on him. He likes knowing Sangwoo is just as obsessed with him. It makes him happy.
"I hate that he was all over you," Sangwoo mutters. He lets his cigarette drop to the floor, he steps on it carelessly. Ali is still hidden in the folds of Sangwoo's shirt but he hears him and reaches down to intertwine their fingers. The action leaves Sangwoo a little breathless; everything the man does affects him like this. He should be used to it.
Sangwoo couldn't hear him at first, he needed it repeated and then he didn't seem to believe it. But it doesn't matter what he thinks because he wants Ali just as bad.
"I wished it was you." Ali had mumbled, squeezing their joint hands. "Not him. I closed my eyes and pictured you."
It fuels Sangwoo's ego as much as it appeases him and he lets himself relax, leaning into the jagged brick wall, pulling Ali in with him. The younger is stood between Sangwoo's legs, gazing up at him tiredly.
The older man hums to himself quietly, dark eyes zoned in on Ali. He's drinking him in as much as he can, worried that tomorrow he'd maybe change his mind and leave Sangwoo in that small apartment, stuck in the cold cycle of his cruel dreams. The thought makes him shiver and he needs reassurance, needs to know Ali is his to keep.
Sangwoo slips his hands out of Ali's and places them behind his head, hovering just over his neck. Ali cocks his head to the side, brows raising questionably. But he's got the gist of what Sangwoo wants and he doesn't mind, a small smile draws on his lips and he looks down with rosy pink cheeks.
"Pretty," Sangwoo mumbles. "It's all mine, yeah?"
Ali laughs. It's the first time he's done so in weeks and really meant it. "Yeah."
The older hums softly, pulling Ali in close until their chests touch and he can hear the laboured breaths of his beloved.
"I missed you so much." Ali whispers. The moment is one filled with intense love and passion, their emotions are wired heavily and they can feel themselves finally relaxing. They're finally at home.
"I don't know how I did it." The shorter man whispers.
Sangwoo mutters darkly, eyes no longer brown but dark with emotions. "It was hard. I'll never leave you again my darling."
His fingers dance upon the heat of Ali's neck: Ali's eyes flutter shut. Sangwoo's hands rest upon his jaw, tilting it to the side before he leans in, lips softly touching the soft, sweet skin. He's delicate in the way he treats Ali, worried the boy is too fragile. Like a China ornament. He gasps and sighs and Sangwoo hasn't done anything, except for press his lips to the dip of his body, savouring the intimacy. There's nothing but lost love and passion being reignited between them.
"Hyung?"
He hushes the younger, fingers pressed to his thick lips. He'll indulge himself in them next, he promises.
"Just wait, my love."
Ali is pliant.
Sangwoo missed him, missed his warm body and the heart that beat just for him. Missed Ali's love and safety and the happiness that always surrounded the pair of them. Sangwoo needs him too much and promises himself he'll never let Ali slip away again.
"I'm sorry." Sangwoo whispers, then places a soft kiss. "I'm so sorry."
He goes at it again and again, kissing him like he's a petal on a rose and whispering his guilt out.
His fingers have tangled themselves in the thick, dark locks and Ali whines softly. Huge eyes looking for Sangwoo. "Don't be sorry, be happy. We made it."
His words are simple but they're so meaningful and it brings tears to both their eyes and their noses touch, heads pressing against one another and they can truly say they've felt it all. Happiness, guilt, destruction, sadness, anger, grief, lust. It's lived in their bones for the past few months but no more because now they're victorious.
Their lips finally greet, in a warm kiss, they bask in the feeling, they laugh with relief and revel in the tears on their cheeks.
"I love you Ali Abdul and I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making sure you know that."
Ali’s laughter fills the night.
"I'm never letting you go now," Ali promises. He's holding Sangwoo's face in his hands, fingers caressing his cheeks. He can't believe he's real.
"Please don't."
Ali nods, holding him close. "Never."