Samson | Future!AU | SiTeuk | 1000w

[coinlocker]

Black hair clipped his ear, dropping against the naked skin of his shoulder. The sound of scissors, dull and barely cutting. Almost foreign fingers slid through the jagged ends and tugged on the longer waves that brushed the nape of his neck left uncut. He shivered, the thinning muscles of his back shifting in motion a wave of reflex. Fingertips rolled down his spine and counted each new notch, a palm placed between his shoulder blades as dry lips kissed light and sweet, pursed to blow errant hair away.

His hand gripped the knees splayed either side of his chest, bony and bruised knees, leaving fingermarks vibrant in the candle light. He looked back over his shoulder, caught eyes and a gaze that seemed wet at the final snip. Scissors were put down, left closed and sprouting uneven hairs against the sheets.

“It's okay,” Siwon whispered to the hooked arms around his neck. His mouth brushed from wrist to elbow over goosebumps. “I'm okay.”

“You're not, but thank you for lying.”

Siwon turned, motions clunky, bones cramped and sore for sitting like that for imagined hours, trading breaths for each strand of hair but not one wasted. He brushed the hair away, shaking the sheets before laying down like a man exhausted. His head dropped into the well of an empty stomach, naked and smooth, tipping lips upwards to lips to kiss and kiss into oblivion.

“I've become Delilah-”

“I was going to lose it anyway.”

“I don't know which is worse.”

“You're beautiful.”

“Stop it. Just shut up.”


Old lights blinked out one by one at the suns dawn. They'd've kissed for hours, back and forth in silence then fallen asleep connected bottom lip to top lip. Jungsu woke up while Siwon still slept and stroked his fingers through jagged ends of hair, testing the length over and over to keep his mind occupied.

“We were meant to have lives at the end,” he whispered against a fevered temple somewhere in the hours and Siwon stirred long enough to press his face into the soft crook of Jungsu's neck. “We weren't meant to be forgotten.”

“This is a life I don't mind living, as long as you stay.”

“Where would I go, while you're still here.”

“Even when you're sad, Jungsu-”

“Don't say it. Stop calling me that.”


Jungsu met Siwon for the first time years ago. His hair long, face soft and young, smiling, a gentleman youth.
He wondered if everyone felt as struck, as heartsore to look at him, even worse to shake his hand and hold on too long while introducing himself and not want to let go afterwards. Siwon was handsome but it was more than that.
Jungsu filed it away, in a little folder in his heart that said keep under lock and key where many things were kept to be forgotten only to grow like weeds.
Their onstage affection was a little more sometimes. A little more to Jungsu. In time, a little more to Siwon. A kiss on the cheek with something behind it. A hug that would linger. A hold that would not loosen. A warm strength that was constant and didn't sway with a mood, didn't choose sides in an argument but instead mediated in the middle with passion and faith. And when Jungsu's own would tide and wane with loss, confusion, and anger why why why it was Siwon who pulled him up above the waves.


His mattress dipped with a weight that woke him up, papers rustling and fluttering to the ground piece by piece. Jungsu peered bleary eyed and half awake, hours of non sleep written into his face and the messy musical notes on his pages.

Siwon had smiled at him. Like a child. Jungsu was struck.

“You're beautiful, hyung.”


Siwon grabbed Jungsu's wrists tight, brought them to his belt, guiding shaking and hesitant fingers to clasps and buttons and skin. Flitted his hands and teeth, lips to bite and kiss everywhere he could touch. To feel the weight of someone pressed up against him.

“You're still here. You're still real.” Fierce kisses growing desperate. To prove they wouldn't be defeated so easily. They were half way to the bed. Their clothes left in a haphazard trail behind them and Jungsu knew it was wrong to push it this far but god. God. Please.

“Siwon.” Jungsu chanted, his lips wet and swollen as he pushed himself up onto his toes, clutching his hands to Siwon's face. Only to find Siwon's skin cold and clammy.

Siwon buckled.

Jungsu caught him before he hit the ground.


From there, unfairly Jungsu thought, it's too soon, too fast. From there, there was the rinse and repeat nature of therapy and doctors, the weekly visits from everyone else, friends, family and the odd journalist who would invoke former glories to contend with. Where Jungsu felt jealousy and Siwon became tired. Both things they couldn't help. When the last person walked out the door, taking their laughter and smiles, forced or otherwise with them, Jungsu remained in their wake and fitfully shuffled flowers and cards into convenient places on the sideboard, for a few minutes purposefully avoidant of Siwon's struggle. A little ritual that seemed to help them both as Siwon caught his breath and worked up the energy to sidle to the left on the little bed. His fingers would drum the thin blankets and he would gaze pointedly out of the corner of his eyes. And in the three, four, five minutes they would have before the nurse came back to them, Jungsu slid onto the bed beside him.

Their conversations were little more than whispers.

“You're beautiful, Jungsu.” Siwon whispered. “So beautiful.”

They were the greatest secret.


He looked small in the bed. Jungsu knew hospitals had that way of swallowing people, the narrowest beds making the largest person look lifeless. This is where they came to die. He chewed on his nails, bitten down to the quick already and bleeding between his lips.

Siwon hadn't opened his eyes at all today and Jungsu wasn't allowed to stay. Family only.