Yoon Doojoon vs. Jang Hyunseung

BeeeestDJ

this is gonna me i swear

Dujun’s adorable laugh when he’s suggested to go drink on Valentine’s Day

I’ve heard that one before. [` He murmurs, thinking back on the long string of events, of people, that have let him fall, from scraped knees in childhood to the perils of love. Though, even when the memories bitter his tongue, even when they rankle in his ears with words he would never understand, Doojoon still holds the smile in place, unwavering like the stars dangled in the sky, faint enough to be overlooked though bright enough to be found if they wanted to be. Maybe they, too, are like stars: evading attention to live hidden in their own limited freedom. His thoughts tremble as he steps forward and plants a foot on the skateboard, then the other. He wobbles for a couple of seconds, his hand finding its way to her hand; thoughts fall off and scatter around him like shattered glass, no use trying to pick them up. Instead he lets immediacy take him over, he lets the physical world guide him until he steadies with instinct alone. ] I’m ready. [` He says, louder, while his hand loosens the grip on her fingers. ]

[. he is contemplating and still, she holds.  there’s some kind of wavering hope in the way she offers the skateboard to him, fingers curled around the roughened edges and a pleading that comes with the offer of take it.  try something new.  she wonders what it is that makes her feel like this — it’s almost as if he’s too cut off and she’s trying to stitch him back in somehow, to connect with this meeting and this skateboard and the moon hanging pregnant overhead.  it takes a moment that feels like a lifetime, but his expression is charming and she finds herself smiling with him — it’s strange how a winter night’s meeting can bring about such feeling. ] “ i wouldn’t let you fall." [. there is truth that rings in her words; it is laced in the careful way she puts the board to the ground and bends back straight — in the way she holds out her hand and expects him to take it.  she expects a lot of things, it seems. ] “ come on, get on.  until you’re ready, i won’t let go.”

[` He has better things to do than exchange words with a stranger whose near accident is the only event stringing them together, yet he stands there, quiet, thoughtful. Intrigue battles the logic that floods him with absolutes and facts and reminds him of how frivolous the encounter is. After all, life isn't fiction, it isn't cluttered with chance meetings and pretty strangers and notions that everything will settle in its place with time, that it's only the natural story arc tugging everyone along like puppets. No, he'd given up on those strings a long time ago, he'd let himself fall into redundancy. It hadn't been surrendering, but an acceptance of his fate. He tells himself this, but he remains, posture sturdy. His expression is confused, wavering between hesitance and a distracted smile, charming in its unburdened nature, like flowers that blossom in concrete. ] Sure. Just, teach me how. [` Someone else says those words because it isn't him, he isn't one to try new things, or to expand, to let the night unfold itself. His hands almost tremble as he ceases control to the light chill in the air, to the moon that hangs low, and to the stranger with a skateboard. ] 

” huh… you never really learned to let go, did you?" [. perhaps she’s saying a bit too much — he’s a stranger after all, but something about him seems a little sad.  wistful, even. ] “ it’s nice to put yourself in another person’s shoes, but i guess empathy will only get you so far.  you’ll walk on your own sometime, you just can’t be afraid of the fire to do it." [. she smiles more then, holds the skateboard tight in both her hands.  he seems to be the thinker, locked in poise and pondering and she is all too intrigued.  it’s not often she meets someone born of the quiet. ] “ — .." [. she purses her lips at his statement though, mind taken back to places she doesn’t want to go.  but she forces memory down with a stopper, determined not to let the wave take her tonight. ] “ sure.  i guess he could have been someone at one point in time." [. the words are stiff but still she smiles, holds the board out to him with both hands — like it’s precious. ] “ you’ll never learn if you’re afraid of fire.  it might not be the best board for you, but … wanna try?”

It's not just you--I think anyone who does dangerous acts make me a little uncomfortable. Too much empathy, I guess. [` He's suddenly shy, never one to meet strangers sober. It's always been too frivolous, too dangerous, but somehow he's drawn to the meeting. With her, with him, the moon watching above them. There's an energy about her that makes things seem right, as though it's planned, destined. It seems ridiculous, foolish, and unreal but he's feeling it now, that pull, like a sliver of the moon has fallen into her smile and he's a wave, a tide she tugs, one she controls. He's swayed by the notion, his expression dims, his gaze plunges to the skateboard. ] He must've been a master. [` He says this only because he doesn't know how to ride one, it's always been complex. To hold enough mastery to teach is beyond him, though he wishes he wouldn't have let it go so easily. ]

" really? you thought i was that bad — ?" [. she laughs a little, knowing that he’s only half joking by the look in his eyes.  the moonlight peels away the layers and reveals the truth in silver light, and she feels a little guilty for scaring a stranger.  but he seems to easily push his fears aside and sunny’s grateful — that he can laugh it off so easily, that he can make her laugh at her embarrassment, too.  the guilt doesn’t last for too long. ] “ really? sucks — i’ve been a dancer since forever, so maybe that’s what’s given me the balance to ride." [. she shifts the board in her arms and smiles with him, the chilled night air almost comforting.  it seems to get into her lungs and when she breathes out, there’s nothing left of the tension she felt earlier. ] “ you shouldn’t though — i promise, i’m not that bad.  i just knew someone who was even better once.  he taught me.”

"Don't worry." His words were soft, malleable, carrying with them several meanings and interpretations that were lost into the night. He imagined that everyone who was left behind felt the pang of his absence--but he didn't want pity, he didn't want reparations. Doojoon wasn't hard to please and never had demands, even this explanation was an excess but he welcomed it with a smile, flimsy on his lips. "I understand you. But," his voice paused and he looked to the side and began to amble, expecting Jiho to follow, "That means we have to catch up, you know? I'm not angry or bitter, just curious as to what you were up to during your leave. Did you discover anything good? Is there anything you want to share?" With each step, he felt their reunion was buried further, as though his steps were stacking dirt onto them. Steadily, the excitement and nerves of their reunion began to dwindle into something common, something comfortable. His hands found his pockets while his steps fell into a beat. "More importantly, what are we doing tonight? Why'd you want to come here?"

New ceremony ✍ Jiho×Doojoon

Doojoon’s actions didn’t startle the younger man, never the less this reaction made him smile a little. He responded to the brief hug, before looking back at the other one. His words made Jiho silent for a moment. Maybe the lost of contact with the man before him was a mistake, but back then taking a step back was the best decision, he was sure of it. Even now, Doojoon didn’t seem mad or anything. Jiho lowered his head a little, before speaking up and giving his answers. “First of all, sorry for disappearing like that, but I had my reasons, hyung. Please, understand me.” He searched for the other one’s eyes, before continuing, slipping his hands back in his coat. “I was here the whole time… just not in your life. I concentrated on my studies and left my friends behind. I regret leaving you, hyung, the most… that’s it.” The younger one finished after a small pause. He didn’t know what kind of reaction he expected to get. Jiho wasn’t smiling anymore, nor anything, he was just staring at his friend.

Doojoon put his wallet away as they entered, and the familiar rush of music clubs took hold of him. He would always wonder how each club managed to house an environment, each unique to their own. His steps slowed, halting when they were finally inside, finally immersed in the clutter of sounds and the dim, strung lights. On one end was a bar lined with stools while most of the floor held tables like round islands at sea. Then, slick with grandeur, the stage rose above it all. A cluster of spotlights pointed there as a band, bared by the intrusive lighting, set up.

"You said you're old enough to drink, right?" he asked. Then, with a tip of his head, he moved again, stepping over to the bar. He claimed a stool, ordered two beers, and waited for Junhong to settle in before he spoke again. "Yeah, my neighbor. Maybe you know her? Kyungri?"

only if for a night