Chapter Text
subdrop
noun: 1. a state of low spirits experienced by submissives after BDSM play
2. the body's response to the sudden drop of hormones after a play session
3. the temporary depression and/or chemical imbalance experienced by submissives after intense BDSM play
“Jihoonie…”
Jihoon is floating somewhere just above reality.
“Jihoon-ah...”
Soonyoung’s voice, slowly pulling him out of his head.
“You did so good,” Jihoon’s eyes are closed, but he can feel the sensation of fingers carding through his hair, Soonyoung’s chest pressed against his back, “You did amazing for me.”
He takes a deep breath, registering the pounding of his heart, the post-scene shakiness. Everything is coming back down to even. He’ll be his usual self soon, he just needs—
“Do you need a minute?”
He nods, overwhelmed by a rush of gratitude as Soonyoung pulls away. Soonyoung makes it so easy. Soonyoung knows him perfectly. They’ll get back to the affectionate part, but he needs a small amount of space first.
“Okay.” Jihoon feels the bed dip as Soonyoung leans in to press a kiss to his temple. “I’ll get some towels. You just rest.”
Soonyoung flits around the room, presumably dressing himself, and exits with the soft click of the door latch. He returns after an indeterminate amount of time, does some more rummaging around, and gently perches on the edge of the bed next to Jihoon.
“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.
Jihoon opens his eyes. “Good. How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Soonyoung smiles down at him. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Jihoon nods. He lets Soonyoung run a warm, damp towel down his chest and stomach, cleaning up the evidence of the scene. He's sore just about everywhere, but he allows himself to be maneuvered until there’s nothing but water evaporating on his skin.
Soonyoung checks him over—his wrists, thighs, backside—anything that could need first aid. He frowns as he rubs his thumb gently over the sizeable bruise forming on Jihoon’s hip. He helps Jihoon dress—boxer briefs, PJ pants, t-shirt—and tucks him back into bed. “Wanna cuddle?” he offers.
By way of response, Jihoon opens his arms.
As with everything, it had taken them a while to perfect their aftercare routine, but they’ve got it down pretty well now. From here, Jihoon curls up with his head on Soonyoung’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. He can feel Soonyoung relaxing, too. The adrenaline is wearing off for both of them.
After a while, Soonyoung breaks the silence. “Do you want water or juice?”
Jihoon hums. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he kind of wants gone. “Juice.”
“’Kay,” he hears a wrapper, a pop, and there’s suddenly a juice box in front of his face. “It’s grape,” Soonyoung informs him.
Jihoon takes a sip, swishing it around in his mouth. He’s thirsty, and animal instinct tells him to chug the whole thing as quickly as possible, but he knows better than to try it. He’s pretty calm now, but coming out of subspace sometimes leaves his stomach a bit queasy for a few minutes.
“Feel okay?” Soonyoung asks, sucking on the straw of his own juice box.
“I’m gonna be sore forever.”
“In a bad way?”
“I'm gonna have to skip the gym.”
“Was that enough of a workout?”
“More than enough,” Jihoon deadpans.
Soonyoung makes a pleased little sound. Then, with a bit more concern, “Anything you want to talk about?”
Jihoon thinks about it. “Not really. I like your new toy,” he tilts his head so Soonyoung can get the full impact of his loopy, fucked-out smile. “Are you thinking about something?”
“How’s your hip?” Soonyoung asks.
Jihoon nearly laughs. “I can’t believe that’s where your mind is.” His newly-bruised hip is from hitting the corner of the bedside table—not because of anything Soonyoung did, but because Jihoon had slipped off the side of the bed in his eagerness to let Soonyoung tie him. “It’s fine,” he says, “it barely hurts.”
Soonyoung lets out a breath, “Okay, yeah—I wasn’t sure exactly what to do, since I didn’t…do it. You told me you were green, but I wondered about it anyway.”
“No, I liked it—the way you responded.” All Soonyoung had done was repeat the order more sternly. “You can trust me.”
“I know,” Soonyoung presses his lips to the top of Jihoon’s head.
They lie there for a few more minutes. Jihoon eventually sets his empty juice box aside, full attention now on the sensation of Soonyoung’s fingers tracing mindless shapes on his back. It feels so good. He’s suddenly so drowsy. He could sleep right like this, honestly. He hopes Soonyoung doesn’t ever—
“You ready to eat?”
Jihoon whines. He’s entitled to whine, he thinks. “I’m tired, Soonyoung-ah…”
“I think you need some carbs,” Soonyoung says with a laugh, “and some more hydration. I’ll make you tea?”
Jihoon pulls a face.
“And then we can take a bath,” Soonyoung promises. “You can fall asleep, if you want. I won’t let you drown.”
Jihoon thinks it over. Other than the fact that he’ll have to move, all of that sounds really nice. Maybe a compromise is in order. “Five more minutes?” he asks, even going so far as to put on a little pout for Soonyoung’s consideration.
“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees, unable to deny him, “five more minutes.”
Perfect. Exactly what he wanted to hear.
Then Soonyoung’s phone rings.
“Shi—” Soonyoung twists away, “thought I muted this, it’s—Hyelim-ssaem?”
“Answer it,” Jihoon mumbles, “could be life-or-death.”
Soonyoung snorts, but after a moment’s hesitation, he does.
Jihoon can't hear the other side of the conversation, but he does hear the sudden shift in Soonyoung’s tone. “Oh—oh my god, I’m so sorry, I totally blanked. I’ll, uh—” and here, he glances over at Jihoon, “—I’m, uh. Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Got it, yeah. See you.”
Jihoon does not like the sound of that.
Soonyoung hangs up. “I’m supposed to be meeting with her,” he groans, covering his face with his hands, “like, right now.”
As soon as he says that, even Jihoon remembers this meeting. They'd been trying to get together all week, but between Hyelim’s other responsibilities and Soonyoung's schedules, they hadn't been able to work it out during normal hours. With the performance unit beginning practice tomorrow for their unit stage, it's no wonder Soonyoung had been desperate to polish the choreography with her before the weekend.
Which leaves Jihoon…
“I’ll call her back,” Soonyoung abruptly decides, “I’ll make something up, I can’t—”
“Go,” Jihoon orders, “You have to. Don’t get in trouble because of me.”
“It’s not—” Soonyoung looks stricken. “It’s not because of you, Jihoonie.” He reaches out, gently brushing Jihoon’s bangs away from his face, “I’ll cancel, I’ll just—I can’t just leave you like this.”
“You can,” Jihoon reassures him. “You gotta, Soonyoung. I’m okay, really.”
“Really?” Soonyoung sounds doubtful—perhaps rightfully so, given everything they’d just done.
“Really,” Jihoon insists. “It’s just one time. It’s not—I know we’re fine.” He hesitates, “But…maybe you can make it up to me later?”
Soonyoung smiles, reading between the lines easily. Jihoon knows he’ll go all-out as an apology. It’ll be more than enough to make up for losing their time together now.
“Okay,” Soonyoung promises, “I’ll make it up to you.” He slides out of bed, grabs his own sweatshirt from where he’d tossed it aside, and quickly pulls it over Jihoon’s head. He then makes a big show of tugging the waistband of Jihoon’s pants down to kiss the darkening bruise on his hip. “I love you,” he says as he straightens up, capturing Jihoon’s lips with his own.
“Love you too,” Jihoon replies, smiling into the kiss. He really does love Soonyoung, like no one else in the world. His heart aches a bit at the loss of their ritual, but it’s okay. They’ll make up for it later.
“Get some rest,” Soonyoung orders. “I’ll see you for dinner? Late dinner? Midnight-ish?”
Jihoon nods, already feeling his eyelids drooping.
Seeing this, Soonyoung laughs softly. "See you later," he says, offering a little wave. Then he steps out, shutting the door behind himself.
And Jihoon is alone.
The ache in his chest amplifies, suddenly. Other aches make themselves known—his head, his hip, his wrists, his—
He sighs. Soonyoung is ridiculous, scheduling a meeting at night. He’s even more ridiculous for forgetting about it. And the most ridiculous for starting a scene with Jihoon and having to leave before they’ve both wound down properly.
There’s nothing he can do about it now—he’d given his blessing, after all. He knows Soonyoung didn’t do this on purpose. It’s okay. They’ll make up for it later, they’ll—
He’s tired.
With another sigh, he slides down in bed, fluffing up the pillow and snuggling beneath the covers. It’s not the same without Soonyoung. He’s lonely—he can admit that much to himself. The bed is too big, and he wants to be held. But he’s fine. Disappointed, but fine. And tired. Soonyoung or no, he needs a nap, and he needs it now.
He closes his eyes, breathes in Soonyoung’s scent still lingering on the sweatshirt, and relinquishes consciousness like slipping underwater.
He feels better when he wakes up, he thinks. Not so bad, anyway. He’s still achy, but no amount of sleep is going to cure that. He remembers now that Soonyoung usually gives him Tylenol or something else after they’ve been particularly rough—guess they’d both forgotten. Jihoon drags himself out of bed, groggy and a bit unsteady, and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. He’d slept for nearly three hours—good. Soonyoung will be home for dinner soon…ish.
In the meantime, he tidies up, smiling when he realizes Soonyoung had cleaned and put away their gear while Jihoon was having a moment to himself. Jihoon hadn’t had to do anything.
Jihoon never has to do anything.
Isn’t that kind of selfish?
The unexpected thought stings.
What do you actually do for him?
The corners of Jihoon’s lips turn down as he tries to shake the sensation off. He’ll shower, he thinks. He’ll wash away this weird feeling, and by then Soonyoung will be home, and everything will be fine.
He makes his way into the bathroom and undresses, hissing when the water first hits his skin. As far as he can tell, he doesn’t have any marks other than the one on his hip, but he feels sensitive all over. Dialing the temperature down to a more tolerable level, he focuses on washing his hair, his body, his face. He uses his regular shampoo—it doesn’t feel right to use the strawberry-scented kind Soonyoung usually lathers into his hair—and does his best to clean the sticky layer of sweat from his skin.
He gets out of the shower, towels himself dry, and changes into a worn black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He’s disappointed to see that it’s only 11:30. Needing something to keep himself occupied, he curls up on the couch with his laptop and headphones to review the track he and Bumzu had started working on yesterday.
Jihoon hates ambiguous feelings.
He doesn’t always prefer to put his feelings into words, but there’s a certain kind of security in knowing that he could, if he wanted to. To be able to acknowledge, ‘I’m happy, I’m comfortable, I’m stressed, I’m upset,’ is liberating in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself for a long time. Seventeen has influenced him in the best ways—Soonyoung, most of all.
But ‘ambiguous’ is the only way he can describe what he’s currently feeling. He listens to the track, frowning all the while. It’s fine, he supposes, but…
He listens to it again. It’s fine—just fine.
He plays it again.
Again.
And again.
Now he is feeling something: frustrated. Why can’t he make up his mind? Why doesn’t he have anything to contribute, a single thought about the piece he wrote? It’s just—
Maybe it isn’t fine?
He glances at the clock, startled to see that it’s already 12:24. Where is Soonyoung?
Yeah, he’s definitely frustrated now.
He checks his phone, hoping for a text—nothing. He sighs. Jeonghan is out with Joshua and Seungcheol, and Seungkwan is seeing a movie with some friends. He’s alone in the dorm, and that thought makes his heart sink.
He’s suddenly tired again.
Setting his laptop on the end table, Jihoon flops over onto his side, hoping to distract himself by mindlessly scrolling through whatever his phone has to offer for the evening. He checks Instagram—boring, boring, some cute selfies of the members, but nothing particularly enthralling. Weverse is the same. He opens the group chat—oddly silent. He then opens his messages with Soonyoung, hoping he’d simply missed something—but again, nothing.
He rolls onto his back, slinging an arm across his face. He’s tired, bored—irritated, too. Maybe he should just call Soonyoung?
No, that won’t do. He’s not clingy like that. He’s never been clingy like that. He’s being a baby right now, immature. He isn’t the center of Soonyoung’s universe.
…Isn’t he?
…Shouldn’t he be?
He whines, twisting over onto his side again to curl up. He lies in that position for however long it takes for all of the fight to drain from his body.
But once that’s gone, he’s left feeling empty, exhausted, weighed down by a dull kind of sadness. He knows something hurts, but not in the way that it should.
He wants Soonyoung. He wants to be left alone. He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t know why he feels this way.
He’s so tired that every part of him aches. There’s a pressure behind his eyes that takes him a moment to recognize as impending tears—suddenly? What’s wrong with him? He’s too tired to cry properly, so he just blinks, droplets clinging to his lashes before slipping down his cheeks.
Although all Jihoon really wants to do is go back to sleep, the squeezing emptiness of his stomach is becoming painful enough to prevent him from doing so. He was supposed to be eating takeout with Soonyoung, he thinks peevishly—then shocks himself by choking on something halfway between a cough and a sob.
He holds his breath until his head swims and his lungs burn. A snack. He’ll eat a snack. He’ll go to bed. He’ll feel better in the morning.
He gets up to rummage around in the fridge, but nothing looks even remotely appetizing. He checks the freezer, the cabinets—there’s plenty of food here, but he isn’t hungry anymore.
He is hungry, in reality, but now that he’s upright, he feels detached from his physical needs. He registers the discomfort of his grumbling stomach but lacks the willpower to fix it. He forces himself to drink a glass of water, at least. Soonyoung always makes sure to properly rehydrate him. Water, tea, sports drinks, soda—whatever Jihoon wants. Snacks, too—whatever Jihoon wants.
Aftercare in general—whatever Jihoon wants.
Come to think of it, isn’t most of what they do based on ‘whatever Jihoon wants’?
Is that how a relationship should be?
Jihoon suddenly feels selfish and guilty, which is made even worse by the fact that he still wants those things. He wants Soonyoung to be here, and he wants them to do whatever he decides, and it isn’t fair that Soonyoung made some stupid plans and then forgot, because what about Jihoon?
He bites down hard on his lower lip. This isn’t the time to be thinking about these things. He’s tired. He’s getting too much in his head, and he knows it.
And yet…
It’s not fair. Jihoon lets out a breath so long he thinks his chest cavity might collapse. Gripping the edge of the counter, he inhales, and he knows he’s getting enough air, but it feels like something is dragging him down from the inside, pulling him toward the floor.
He’s so tired and so lonely, but his feelings are ugly and spiteful and mean now, and he knows trying to stay up any longer to wait for Soonyoung would be a mistake.
He places the glass next to the sink, turns on his heel, and makes a beeline for his bedroom.
Jihoon doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know why he feels this way, but he’s glad nobody else is home, because he cries loud this time.
He doesn’t know, nor care, when he falls asleep.