Sunday, 10 June 2012
Seung Hyun raises himself up on one elbow and reaches over to turn on the small light next to his bed. His brain barely has time to register the two objects on top of the covers - a condom and a small packet of lube - before Ji Yong is on top of him again, now naked and apparently drunk enough not to care where his knees and elbows land. "You know what to do, right?" he mumbles against his lips before kissing him again, and Seung Hyun mmhms into it since that's pretty much all he can do.
And he really does know, thanks to one particular evening with a past girlfriend during which they got tipsy and giggly and more adventurous than usual. He's pretty sure doing it to a guy won't be any different.
Ji Yong keeps kissing him clumsily as he yanks the covers off him, but then he pulls away, cursing under his breath, to retrieve the condom and lube. He shoves them at Seung Hyun, scoots down again, and then his pants and underwear are gone and Ji Yong's mouth is on him, licking and sucking and teasing him until he barely remembers what he's supposed to be doing.
"I can't reach you like that," he finally manages to say. Ji Yong looks up, then grabs his arm and pulls insistently until Seung Hyun sits up. A second later Ji Yong's on all fours with his ass pretty much in his face. Seung Hyun fumbles with the packet of lubricant, and when he manages to tear it open, it gets everywhere except where it's supposed to. He curses to himself and manages to relocate most of it to Ji Yong's ass, quickly working a couple of fingers into him.
The lack of reaction probably means Ji Yong's ready for the main event. His hand is covered in lubricant, now, and he fumbles with the condom wrapper for so long that Ji Yong looks over his shoulder, clicks his tongue loudly and turns around, snatching it from him. He rolls the condom onto Seung Hyun's cock, spreads the rest of the lube onto it, then flings both wrappers off the bed and gets back on all fours.
Seung Hyun can't help but groan softly when he finally pushes the tip of his cock into him. As good as he is at blowjobs, this is--
"Fuck," Ji Yong hisses, and Seung Hyun notices for the first time his white-knuckled grip on the sheets.
He pauses, a thought creeping into his mind. "... You ever done it before?"
"No," Ji Yong replies shakily, laughter in his voice, and lowers himself onto his elbows, burying his head in his arms. "Fuck."
"You're such an idiot." He puts his hand flat on his back and pushes deeper into him, unable to hold back a smile at the string of curses that comes out of his mouth and the way his spine curls under his palm. He doesn't tell him to stop - he's much too proud for that - but Seung Hyun gives him a minute before starting to thrust.
Ji Yong cries out, his voice high and breathless and uncharacteristically out of control, and Seung Hyun stops again, biting his lip with the effort. He caresses Ji Yong's back slowly, then reaches around and wraps his hand around his cock. He knows exactly how fast Ji Yong likes it and how tight to make his grip, and before he knows Ji Yong is pushing back against him and he's moving his hips again, long, slow strokes that make him moan into his pillow.
Seung Hyun lets him control the pace, lets him speed up and slow down and speed up again until the pleasure is almost too much and all he wants to do is to slam into him until he comes. He's about to do just that when Ji Yong distracts him by wrapping one hand around his, forcing him to stroke faster and faster, and he gets so loud Seung Hyun's sure the others can hear.
He can tell when Ji Yong comes by the way he suddenly tenses up, then relaxes, loosening his grip on his hand. He lets go too, stopping for a moment to readjust their position. Ji Yong glances back at him, then buries his head in his arms again and grinds himself against his dick slowly, his moans low and satisfied now. That's too fucking much - Seung Hyun grabs him by the hips and stops trying to hold back. He doesn't last long, even with the condom, and the orgasm is so damn good it takes a while before he feels up to moving again.
Ji Yong flops down on his stomach as soon as he pulls out of him, letting out a long sigh that's complete contentment rather than irritation, for once. Seung Hyun tosses the condom into his wastebasket before stretching himself out on top of him, nuzzling the crook of his neck and running his hand over the inked words on his shoulder. "You're fucking beautiful," he says quietly, his brain still sluggish, and slides his hand down Ji Yong's arm to intertwine their fingers.
Ji Yong gives them a squeeze, but then pulls his hand away gently. Seung Hyun slides his own back up and starts rubbing his shoulder again, but Ji Yong tenses up under him as the minutes tick by, the silence becoming more and more uncomfortable. Seung Hyun raises his head just enough to see the slight frown on his face and suddenly feels like an idiot for saying something this corny. He's said worse things in the throes of passion before, but none of his girlfriends treated him the way Ji Yong does.
He's not surprised when Ji Yong finally squirms out from under him, picks up most of his clothes and pads out of the room wordlessly. He remembered he's supposed to be miffed, and whatever affection he has for Seung Hyun obviously isn't enough to override his pride.
Seung Hyun sighs and rolls over, disappointed despite himself. Aside from the sex, one of the aspects of dating Ji Yong that's actually enjoyable is having him constantly plastered to his side, seeking body warmth or a hand to play with or a shoulder to sleep on. Seung Hyun likes physical contact, and Ji Yong fulfills that need nicely (when he feels like it). He just wishes he'd stop making things so damn complicated.
He rolls over again. He knows it's going to bother him all night now that he's really let himself think about it. He scrubs a hand over his face and, as a last-ditch effort, grabs his cellphone to try and speak Ji Yong's language. He sends a short message - "I'm really fucking sick of fighting with you." - and leaves his phone next to his pillow before trying to go back to sleep.
The kids outside the rather standard black clubhouse are pissing Seunghyun off, and god help him he's going to turn around and slam all their faces into the wall behind them the next time one of them mentions ass and felching that breaks all of them into another fit of giggles.
He flicks another cigarette butt onto the asphalt, blowing the last of his smoke into the night. Now he's out, with nothing but five Marlboro stubs at his toes and an empty carton in his pocket. There isn't even a gas station in sight to stock up - actually, there's nothing on this street besides the apparent ‘rave', except a few backsides of corporate buildings and tow-away zone, do not park signs.
Maybe he'll just go home.
And maybe Jiyong just thinks he's a superhero in neon and glitter, the way the blond almost takes it as a cue to show up the very next second, a touch to his arm and smile on his face like he isn't half an hour late. "Hey," he says, and Seunghyun sighs loudly.
"What were you doing, powdering your nose?" The sad part is it wouldn't even surprise him. Sadder still is that a face full of makeup suits the shorter boy, tonight his usual metallic kohl with a burnt orange in the corners of his eyes like fire.
Jiyong just shows his teeth. "If you wanna call it that," he agrees, and he unclenches his fist to reveal a small plastic bag full of what looks like salt. (It's not salt.)
Seunghyun blinks. "Hardcore," he says sarcastically, and Jiyong pockets it, rolling his dilated pupils.
"It's cold as fuck out here," he says, and grabs Seunghyun's wrist to pull him forward, past the teenagers and the bouncers at the door into the melted darkness of the club.
Honestly, Seunghyun doesn't understand why they have to always do this before they stumble back to his apartment since Jiyong can barely last a full hour with his hands to himself thanks to the e, but the sweaty dance floors and bartended drinks have almost become like a poor-man's prerequisite they have to perform beforehand. Maybe Jiyong needs validation for being more than a booty call and if that's the case, he'll play along if it means another completed song or two at the end. He is grateful, however, that nobody he even remotely knows would ever set foot in a place like this. He'd never live it down.
They make it to the bottom of the steps to reveal an ice palace, falling "snow" (how appropriate) dusting everything with a fine coat of sparkling silver and fog pouring out of machines screwed to the corner; Jiyong slips a candy necklace between his lips and Seunghyun thinks it's a good thing he's not actually a superhero.
Another time, another dimly-lit place with too-loud bass and music Seunghyun doesn't even consider to be music so much as what you'd get if you combined womb noises and fire sirens.
Tonight's theme seems to be gore, snuff films projected onto the four sky-rise walls and the drink orders pertaining to ways to die that makes Seunghyun's stomach turn. Most everybody around him has overdosed on fake blood and stick-on injuries, and a few turn their noses up at Seunghyun's jeans, the only contributing effort he made tonight having unconsciously been the black Saber-tooth gauges in his ears.
The lights change and then Jiyong pushes himself out of the crowd to stand beside him at the bar.
"You should come dance," he says. Seunghyun nods at his unfinished drink on the countertop - and then remains unsurprised as Jiyong reaches over with his rainbow nails and downs the rest of the murky cocktail in a gulp. "Come on, it could be fun. All you ever do is get wasted."
Seunghyun looks at Jiyong like he's slow. "Because it helps me deal with the shit you call music."
"Then why do you keep coming?" It's obvious Jiyong's looking for one specific answer that Seunghyun doesn't have. Meaning, he lets Jiyong cajole him, lets him pull him up and away from the bar by his belt loops and weave through the bodies until he finds them a spot.
The blond starts to dance, reaching an arm behind him and pulling Seunghyun close so that his back fits against the curve of Seunghyun's chest and their bodies are aligned. Seunghyun can hear his breath next to his ear, and his hands rest lightly on Jiyong's hips. It feels kind of stupid, but it's not that bad and about four steps away from their next activity, so he figures it's a good form of foreplay and that it'll last for all of one song before they move on.
True to form, Jiyong flips back around before the song changes, his lips against Seunghyun's collarbone and his tongue darting out to taste skin, and Seunghyun works his hands into Jiyong's back pockets and feels Jiyong's heart rate increasing, and deduces they're about there.
He pulls Jiyong in for a kiss, drawn out and teasing, before retracting his hands and turning to leave, but Jiyong tugs him back and shakes his head.
"Let's just stay," he smiles. Seunghyun arches a brow.
"Okay, you wanna find a back alley, or just do it here?" he asks (jokes).
"Neither," Jiyong frowns, and his hand finds Seunghyun's in the darkness, fingers lacing together before Seunghyun is entirely sure what he's holding. "Let's just dance tonight."
"Just dance?" He nudges Jiyong back. "You shitting me?"
Jiyong is innocence pre-packaged in nylon, except Seunghyun knows better. "It could be fun," he says.
"That's what you said about this," Seunghyun cards a hand through his hair and it comes away damp with sweat and something bright red that's rubbed off from people posing as train wreck victims. "Can we go now?"
"Seunghyun, what are we doing?"
The question throws Seunghyun for a loop, and Jiyong looks suddenly awkward as he hastily backtracks.
"I just, this is weird. I've never done this before, and," here he takes a breath, dropping his eyes to the floor against a backdrop of a man blowing his head off, brain spilling onto the wall behind him, "I don't know. I'd just like a heads up now if - if I'm just, like, gonna be a good fuck to you, and that's it." He doesn't sound angry, just curious mixed with something else Seunghyun can't place.
Seunghyun snorts and goes the safe route. "Who says you're good?"
Jiyong blinks. "Come on," he says, exasperated, and Seunghyun sighs.
"What if you are?"
The other boy shrugs one-shouldered, lip catching between his teeth. "I don't know." He laughs, and it doesn't sound like a laugh. "This is totally the wrong conversation to be having." It's a little apologetic, but Seunghyun steps back.
"No, if you can't deal with what it is then - whatever." It's his turn to shrug now - feels something tightening on his fingers and at the last second remembers he's somehow still holding Jiyong's hand, and wrenches his fingers away - and then he slips between the cracks of pale skin and outstretched arms all the way out the door.
The music is giving him a headache.
Fifteen minutes and he's next door on the steps of a convenience store, bottle of soju and a cigarette hanging from his lips as he wonders where the fuck all the cabs are.
It's not like Seunghyun is one of those douches with commitment phobias. Yea, it's rare, and too much drama for him to like doing it much, but he isn't one to jump ship if he really wants somebody. He just isn't entirely sure it's in the stars for him to start shit with a club-kid who mostly pisses him off and who his intentions with aren't exactly honest.
"Hey." A pair of heeled boots click onto the stone steps where he's sitting. Seunghyun looks up to see a girl with star-struck written all over her face, and she's pointing at him with dark, filed nails. "You're not Choi Seunghyun, from like, that one band, are you?"
She's wearing jeans tucked into her knee-highs and a leather bustier, and her hair is teased, streaked with white that matches the shadow on her eyelids. That one band. Seunghyun sighs.
"It's your lucky night," he mutters flatly.
The groupie seems to take this almost literally because her eyes light up. "Is it?" The smile on her lips is blood red.
Seunghyun lets her drape herself off him in the cab she snags for them. Maybe all this bullshit about Jiyong being some weird supernatural muse is just that: bullshit. Maybe it's just all in the timing.
She pretends to show interest in talking to him when they get there, but he's not feeling it and pushes her onto the bed three seconds after closing the door.
He doesn't bother remembering her name, and she doesn't seem to care the way she writhes underneath him, bites back moans when he thrusts into her again, again, leaves lipstick on Seunghyun's chest, rolls them over to straddle him and tell him she's not scared of doing the work, just sit back and enjoy it baby, pulls his hand up to grip her breast - and she's better than Jiyong if he's honest with himself.
But no songs come. And he can't help but feel disappointed, restlessness bubbling up underneath the satiation.
She leaves when the sun comes up, jeans unzipped and one boot still in her hand with a hasty grin on her lips. Seunghyun doesn't see her off. He figures it's light enough outside that she can find her own way around.
It's after noon when he finally wakes up, eyes crusted over and a hangover that grows exponentially the longer he's conscious. Two o'clock, and he finally pulls on a pair of jeans and attempts to function (which means stumbling to the bathroom and drowning his face in sink-water); three-thirty and he presses ignore on a message waiting on his machine and goes out to get coffee because his kitchen has nothing but ice cubes, alcohol, and a jar of mustard.
Still no songs.
Seunghyun grimaces, stuffing his hands in his pockets; his hair blows into his eyes with the wind, and he turns a corner and shakes it away - and suddenly he's looking at Kwon Jiyong, leaning against the brick wall outside his usual coffee shop in last night's clothes with a jacket thrown haphazardly over his shoulders for the cold, makeup caked and smudged around the edges.
He looks just as surprised to see Seunghyun, but breaks into the grin Seunghyun knows like the back of his hand by now a second later. "Classy," he smirks.
Seunghyun has no idea what the hell he's talking about until Jiyong brings a hand up and exaggerates the motion of brushing his neck.
When Seunghyun mimics him, his fingers come away full of greasy lipstick. He shrugs, wipes it on the edge of his shirt, and doesn't feel that sorry
as he pulls the door to the café open.
The door jingles behind him when Seunghyun is waiting for his black coffee, no cream, no sugar.
"So, look, I was wondering," says Jiyong, silhouetted against the door, "how good is your memory?"
"Uh." Seunghyun frowns. "What?"
"It wouldn't happen to be really bad, would it?"
"Are you still high?"
Jiyong ignores him and closes the distance. "'Cause, like, I'm just wondering if you've forgotten what I said yesterday." His eyes are clear, if a little red-rimmed, but unreadable when he smiles again. "'Cause that would be cool."
Seunghyun snorts. "I think that's a little too easy." He knows he shouldn't be anything except accommodating since his fingers are itching to write, but usually his mouth runs faster than his common sense on account of his pride, or something.
"Why can't it be easy?" Jiyong's eyes flash. "You're not gonna tell me you have feelings for me or something?"
Seunghyun doesn't take the bait. "I'm just saying, maybe it is weird. What this is."
It prompts an eye roll from the blond, like he wasn't the one who came up with the whole damn cloud over their heads last night. "So stop reading into it, then. It is what it is." His fingers brush against Seunghyun's collarbone and dip just inside his shirt, hands cold as ever on Seunghyun's skin and breath alternatively hot. "You missed a spot." His voice is soft, he shows Seunghyun the lipstick on his fingers, and his eyes read please.
Oh, what the hell. Seunghyun's empty brain needs its fix.
"Fine," he says, and Jiyong grins, looking completely different in the light.
Seunghyun is discovering he really doesn't give a shit about technical performance, he'd rather have familiarity and comfort and I know this I know you I know your body.
The last of Jiyong's makeup comes off on Seunghyun's sheets, sweat and grime from the night before. Afterwards Seunghyun smoothes a hand over the blond's hair and sweat and swollen lips, wondering just in how deep of shit he's treading in.
He tries to sleep but ends up at his desk at one in the morning, words pouring out of the ends of his ballpoint faster than he can keep up with them. The sentences come out fragmented and nonsensical but he figures he'll decode what he'll trying to say later because right now he doesn't have the energy or will to.
He casts a glance over at the boy sleeping underneath the slotted moonlight from his windows when he crawls back into bed. Yea, it is what it is, but that's never really the case.
Then again, nobody ever said show business was a romp in a field of daisies and happiness, either.
He knows he's right when he wakes up to a raging thunderstorm like even the Lord God Almighty wants this to happen.
Jiyong says he can just call a taxi but his eyes keep giving him away, and Seunghyun isn't that much of an asshole. So. The rain stays, and so does Jiyong.
Two o'clock (boxes of takeout scattered across the tabletops and television remotes lost in the couch cushions), and Jiyong is digging around his music collection, and Seunghyun is bent over on the floor writing in his third notebook, making corrections to last night's word jumble and adding things. Because apparently Jiyong doesn't even need to be doing much of anything for there to be music.
"You have five copies of the same Bob Dylan album," Jiyong says. He piles them on the ground by Seunghyun's head, and then gets sidetracked. "What're you doing, writing in your diary?"
"Yes." Seunghyun doesn't even look up as Jiyong flops onto the floor across from him and studies his notebook.
"So you write your own songs." Seunghyun can hear the surprise in Jiyong's voice. "Don't people use a keyboard or something to figure this out?"
He shrugs. "Not when they're good."
"I didn't know you were such an elitist." A few more minutes, and the silence breaks again. "Hey, I took a music composition class a few years ago."
"Good for you," Seunghyun quips, and Jiyong smacks him, hard, on the arm.
"I'm just saying. I could help you if you want."
Seunghyun snorts. "No thanks," he says, but Jiyong starts saying the ends of the lyrics aloud anyways like they're still in grade school and quality comes in the forms of a-b-a-b rhyme schemes.
"Lines. You could use vines, mines..." It's a good thing the blond's eyes are concentrated on the paper in front of him and not Seunghyun's face, or else he would've cut himself off already. "Silence runs along phone lines... how about 'don't pick up they're landmines'? What?" He says, because he finally looks up and it's right about now Seunghyun can't help the are-you-serious look on his face anymore.
"Waiting for you to tell me how bad you failed that class," he says, and Jiyong glares at him.
"Fuck you, I did great." He rolls over onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
Almost ten full minutes, and then, "the dark throws me a lifeline."
Seunghyun stops writing. "What?"
"The dark throws me a lifeline." Jiyong rolls back over, jabbing a finger at the sheet of lyrics. "Kind of cheating since it's the same word, but it works."
"Did you just spend the last ten minutes thinking that up?" Seunghyun grins cockily when Jiyong just looks indignant. "Cute."
"They're good lyrics!"
"You're a pretentious asshole."
"At least I'm not a cock-sucking bitch." Jiyong looks like he's about to storm out so Seunghyun rolls his eyes and deliberately writes it in, the dark throws me a lifeline, underneath the bottom of the verse. "Stop being a drama queen, all right? I'm fuckin' around."
And it takes a while to work the scowl off his face, but in the end Jiyong smiles and calls him a jackass and keeps his hand a little cautiously by Seunghyun's, the one that's not writing, just enough that Seunghyun can feel the heat from his arm - like he's waiting for Seunghyun to pull away, but Seunghyun doesn't. Call it distraction or apathy or... something.
One or twice he looks over and Jiyong's just reading over his shoulder, absentmindedly mouthing the words to himself.
That's pretty much how the rest of the day goes, give or take a few more boxes of delivery pizza.
Maybe it's some sort of accidental trigger, because three days later, he scrambles a few sentences on the seventh song and doesn't know how to fix them, and then paces around his apartment for a few minutes before his phone rings like fucking magic, what the hell.
It's Jiyong, sounding hesitant as he asks if Seunghyun wants to just, maybe do something that doesn't involve strobe lights and glow sticks, because he's kind of wandering around between his classes and doesn't exactly know what to do with himself.
"I'm not sure if this is allowed," he says, but Seunghyun just shrugs and it couldn't be better timing as he tugs on his jacket and asks Jiyong where exactly he is.
Another two days and they end up on a rooftop at all obscene hours of the morning right in the half-light before the sun comes up, watching the telephone lines and blowing smoke into the city below them. Seunghyun lets Jiyong pull himself up from the ledge and kiss him, tasting like ash and coffee and mint and a little sloppy at the seams, hand gripping the front of Seunghyun's shirt like always. There is knowledge at the back of his mind that this is a slippery slope and they're sliding off the edges.
He keeps ignoring his phone, keeps deleting messages without listening to them as he works.
His days become a sort of odd routine that isn't routine at all.
The weather gets colder, and Seunghyun trails Jiyong to places like playgrounds at PS-239 and the basement stacks around the corner.
He picks up things in the snow along the way, like, Jiyong hates sharing his earphones, and Jiyong hasn't actually seen his dad for more than five minutes at a time since he was twelve, and Jiyong likes watching weird late-night history documentaries on television. And, Jiyong is self-conscious about stupid things like his knees, and Jiyong likes figuring people out.
He doesn't give anything back except the appropriate emotions, but short of being a total parasite, he feels like that's all he can get behind, so far.
He's still not past thinking that he'll wake up one day to real life with some sort of hangover from the ninth circle of hell and the remnants of a homemade drug that he is never doing again in his hand.
And then it's five in the evening and he pens the last word of the last verse of the last song he has to write - and he's done.
You have reached the residence of, three-one-seven-six-two -
Seunghyun throws his keys on the kitchen counter and actually contemplates picking up the landline.
- please leave a message after the beep. Beep.
"If I know you, Choi Seunghyun, you're on the couch, probably watching TV, with a bottle of whatever alcohol you have left after - how long has it been, two months and twelve days? - so, cooking sherry, I'm guessing - but you're probably still coherent enough to answer your goddamn phone. Which you'd better do now, or I'm getting us a new lead with a built-in GPS tracking device."
Seunghyun sighs, shakes his left arm out of his jacket, and takes the phone in his hand as Junhyung is still rattling off how well he knows him. "I'm not getting drunk on my couch you dumbass," he says matter-of-factly, "and you'd never replace me."
"Nah," Junhyung agrees without missing a beat or the fact that he hasn't heard from him in a century, "but you always pick up when we threaten to." There's a pause and a scuffling noise, and Seunghyun can imagine that he's swatting Jaebum's outstretched fingers away from the receiver, that he's telling Chaerin to stop clawing on his arm. "How's that sherry? Your balls invert yet?"
"Oh, suck me," Seunghyun says, and Junhyung actually laughs.
"Seriously. You okay?"
And then he figures out why he has finally picked up the phone. "I'm sitting on top of a whole album, so yea, I'd say I'm okay." It takes remarkable self-restraint not to add an I-told-you-so.
It is unnaturally silent on the other end.
Seunghyun finishes dryly, "So, assuming I'm allowed to come back, I'll see you bitches Monday."
Junhyung says something along the lines of "shit, son" before Seunghyun hangs up, but he's not actually too sure because he's too busy kicking his heels together like a five-year-old.
"Big crowd outside," Chaerin says.
Seunghyun tightens his A string, tries out the sound again, and gives the guy at the soundboard an okay. "That's good," he says, and Chaerin shakes her head, adjusting her microphone for the fifteenth time.
"You think you'd be a little more nervous," she tells him, "since it's kind of your head on the chopping block if we get booed off this stage."
"You're a good friend."
"Hey, still, Jaebum said he'd write our next album for us, and anything you wrote can't be worse than the shit that'll come out of that." She grins at Seunghyun's blank expression.
"Jaebum's writing the next album?"
"Jaebum is not writing the next album. Stop encouraging him," Junhyung growls, appearing from the back room lugging another speaker for his guitar and a few cables slung over his shoulders.
Behind him is Jaebum, carrying absolutely nothing at all except for his drumsticks, and he flashes an enthusiastic thumbs-up behind Junhyung's back as Chaerin snorts and Seunghyun rolls his eyes.
Chaerin stops fiddling with her mic stand and nudges his elbow. "Look, I think the songs are really, really good." She crosses her arms, takes a step closer to him. "Did you actually write them? I won't tell."
Seunghyun blinks underneath the multi-colored lights they're testing out. "You're a really good friend," he repeats, and she kicks him in the heel.
"You know what I mean, bitch."
"Yea, I wrote them," he says, and turns away to take a few cables Junhyung tosses at him to plug in. "Or, I think I did."
Jiyong is in the crowd. Seunghyun spots him when Chaerin is shouting out hello's and introductions, splashed in the blue and pink and gold lights, looking out of place in frighteningly normal clothes.
He stays throughout the first song, the second, the third - he stays through half a set, and Seunghyun swears the boy has his shit-eating grin pasted onto his face, especially when he sings the line he made up - but then towards the end, it fades and Seunghyun looks over and he's gone before the end, slipped out the door and not even a gap in the audience.
He skips the encore because he can. He tells Junhyung he isn't feeling well, and then goes out the back door and pulls out his phone.
Somehow it gets to be four in the morning. Four in the morning, with them on the ground in Seunghyun's apartment in the almost-dark. Scraps of paper are scattered like fall leaves around their sprawled bodies and it's almost pathetically poetic as they count the cracks in the ceiling, watch scattered car-lights that wave across the walls every so often from below.
Seunghyun is close to sleep when (a still partially high) Jiyong shifts, paper crumpling beneath him, to slur, "I have to tell you something."
"It better not be ‘I'm in love you'," Seunghyun replies automatically (because he's a little drunk).
He hears Jiyong shaking his head. "You're a dumbass."
It's silent, and Seunghyun counts to twenty before tilting his head up. "So, you telling me, or what?"
"Don't laugh," Jiyong says.
"If you wouldn't be such a woman about it, I wouldn't laugh," Seunghyun says.
Jiyong frowns down at him. "Jackass."
"Cock-sucking bitch," and then Jiyong laughs, and Seunghyun does too.
It takes Jiyong a while to speak again. "I like myself better when I'm high." The sound has nowhere to go but down. And then he shrugs, puts a pacifier in his mouth that's been hanging on a chain and sorely missed. "Your turn."
There are so many things Seunghyun can do with that, so many cracks he can make and stupid easy-ways-out he can take that'll probably finally lead to a quick fuck and fumble against the window, because tonight they're suddenly in the dark again, after he catches Jiyong come out of a midtown rave, barely ten words exchanged. He can laugh - should laugh, and then let Jiyong be the one to walk out to make everything easy and definitive.
"I used you to write all thirteen of the songs we played tonight." Or, in light of the dark, he can go the shit-show route.
For a second he thinks Jiyong's bolted already until he glances over and sees the blond hair splayed on the floor amidst the ink and paper. And Jiyong's eyes are set on the ceiling instead of him when he says, "I know."
Seunghyun decides that he doesn't believe in the existence of charades anymore.
The sound of another car passes by underneath their feet - and he feels Jiyong's hand brush his, a sigh of hot air on his neck - and then he is rolling over, feeling Jiyong's fist clamping familiarly on his shirt for security as he crashes their lips together, teeth clicking as his hands push into Jiyong's shirt to feel his heart and count the ribs, down to his jeans to cup him and rub through the heat.
In version two Jiyong is impatient and reaches down to help him tug pants and boxers down and kick them away, helps Seunghyun pull his own shirt over his head and his jeans down to his feet. The hooded need in his eyes borderlines on almost crazed before Seunghyun remembers he's still flying on ecstasy.
To Jiyong right now, he's just ten thousand points of magnified contact and skin-on-skin.
A part of him is not okay with this even as he scrabbles for the condoms and packet of lubricant from his coat pocket, watches Jiyong spread for him and barely breathing as he coats his fingers and sticks two, three fingers inside him.
He positions himself above him god he doesn't even know what he's doing, and Jiyong pulls him up for another sloppy kiss, tongue brushing over Seunghyun's teeth and hands tangled in Seunghyun's hair - and Seunghyun pushes in.
Jiyong doesn't speak except a few breathy moans of "fuck" against Seunghyun's neck as Seunghyun thrusts into him, legs hooked around his waist and eyes fluttering closed. Seunghyun can't help the own noise that tears its way from his throat when Jiyong sucks wetly on his neck, grabs one of Seunghyun's hands to close it around his own dick and start him off at the pace he wants.
It's just like this, Seunghyun breathing him in and finding his mouth again to kiss him, limbs twisted and both of them grappling for some sort of purchase, as he rides the wave all the way to orgasm.
He pulls out and breathes hard, wiping Jiyong's come off his hands.
Rolling over to lie on his side, Jiyong on his back, Seunghyun watches him watch the ceiling, counting cracks still.
"What would you have said?" Seunghyun doesn't know what Jiyong's talking about (but he does), and Jiyong's eyebrows knot a fraction of an inch. "If I had said I was in love with you."
Seunghyun has nothing in his head, nothing comes out of his mouth, nothing nothing nothing.
After a moment, Jiyong rolls to face him, and he is only smiling with one corner of his mouth. "It's okay," he says, "It is what it is, right?"
The sunlight streaming into Seunghyun's eyes is what wakes him. When he rolls over on his floor he crushes paper underneath his elbows and heels before he realizes he's alone.
He gets up, brushes his teeth, and pushes his feet into his shoes for a coffee down the street.
When he is back again, his desk is still empty, you have no new messages on his voicemail, and.
(Maybe you'd only given me a chance to answer you maybe it would have been different.)
At the end of the day, he's back to square one with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand (it's what happens during breakdowns) and marveling a little at the irony.
The lyrics will come.
It's been a month and a half. There are no lyrics, and the notebooks spread out on every countertop in Choi Seunghyun's grungy apartment stay blank, gather dust, and fade from white to yellow.
He wastes away for another day in his beer and his eyeliner crumbling away from the corners of his eyes, sleeps till two in the afternoon, and feels like he's dying before he sees the red light blinking on his voicemail between trips to the fridge for more booze.
Beep. Seunghyun, I was reading this self-help book for you today (well that's not embarrassing at all, Seunghyun thinks with a roll of his eyes) and it says you should try this thing called love. It's supposed to be the source of all inspiration or something. That's a direct quote, by the way. Do you wanna borrow it? I won't tell anyone or anything.
Beep. Hey, you know I was talking to Junsu and he says he writes better when he's getting laid. Oh, and he's married, so I'm guessing it's not meaningless sex either, so you'll maybe have to figure a situation out.
Beep. My psychic says to find somebody you can emotionally and physically connect with. DO IT NOW, WE'RE RECORDING IN THREE MONTHS, and I know you've gotten jack-shit done so far and are probably getting wasted on your couch as I speak. IT'S TOO EARLY TO BE DRINKING. GO FIND YOUR PERSON.
No more messages.
He scowls and takes another swig of the Jack Daniels in his hand, because oh yes, he has resorted to chugging straight from the bottle now. It's what he hears happens during mental breakdowns.
Four hours later, the blank pages burned into the backs of his irises, and he's wondering what the fuck somebody wears to make a person fall in love with them.
It's the cheesiest thing he's heard in his life, but he's out of ideas and Google wasn't helpful at all unless he wants to show up at the club in a leopard-print banana hammock greased up like a pig.
Fuck it, Seunghyun thinks in the middle of wondering if maybe he should at least take out his gauges, and doesn't even bother to change out of his black on black. He's heard bedhead is still sexy.
Two minutes of walking through the haze of smoke and writhing bodies and furiously strobing lights and Seunghyun practically body slams a boy with blond hair on his way to get himself a beer with how hard he accidentally crashes into him.
"Sorry," he says, and the shorter boy shakes his head and grins around the pacifier in his mouth in an offhand kind of way, even though the drink he was holding is now spilled all over his flimsy shirt.
"Whatever." He has a slight accent Seunghyun can't situate but which makes him sound all sorts of proper and out of place amongst the sweaty, pulsating limbs and low-ceilinged room. On the other hand, he has electric-shock blond hair and is dressed to the raver-nines, bleeding kohl from the edges of his eyes, neon neckband and glitter on his cheeks and loose white tank cut so low he might as well be naked from the waist up.
There is also the shameless way he checks him out, eyes quickly scanning Seunghyun once from head to toe rather appreciatively before he smiles and bites slightly on his bottom lip. "Feel free to buy me another drink later, though," he whispers directly in Seunghyun's ear, and disappears back into the crowd before Seunghyun even has time to react.
Another hour and six beers alone later with no success except a few trashy girls who proposition him for sex (which is not the way to go, as much as his instant reflex tells him different), Seunghyun has to pee and stumbles his way into the bathroom. He squints against the bright light tubes, the annoying kind that feel the need to make constant buzzing noises, and is about to flick the switch off and just pee in the dark when he sees the blonde boy clutching at the sides of the sink, head slumped between his shoulders and breathing hard, all perfume-stained sweat and sharp angles.
Noob. "Rollin' too hard?" Seunghyun drawls. He reaches over the hot mess to turn the tap on. The blond glares at Seunghyun from underneath his matted hair.
"I'm fine," he says in a pitch too breathless to be. "I just - need to clean my shirt." He unlatches one bony hand (fingernails painted rainbow shades), makes a swipe at the paper towel dispenser, and misses by several inches.
Seunghyun rolls his eyes. "Yea, don't let me get in your way, champ."
"Shut up," the other boy snaps, anger and acridity on legs. Another grab for the towels, and another miss, this time accompanied by a stumble s
sideways straight into the wall. Seunghyun feels like laughing. Instead, he leans against the wall opposite to watch.
And somewhere between the blonde cussing at the towel machine and gagging into the sink basin, Seunghyun finds himself exasperatedly dabbing at the pink stains on the other boy's shirt after he finally gives up. The pacifier has worked its way back into the boy's mouth and his head has dropped forward to rest on Seunghyun's shoulder, eyelashes fluttering against Seunghyun's neck while he moans headaches and stomach pains, scratches at his decorated arms.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you to stay away from drugs?" Seunghyun mutters, irritably lobbing another used up wad of napkins into the trash.
"My mother OD'd on heroin before she got around to it." His voice is still borderline shaky but the bite in the blonde's voice sounds like he's on the verge of coming down from his high. "Feel like an asshole yet?"
Seunghyun snorts. "Sorry, I don't play that game."
"Aren't you special," is the sarcastic answer he gets. A second later there is a muffled crunch as the dumb fuck propped up against Seunghyun bites clean through his pacifier.
Seunghyun ends up fucking him against the door of his apartment because they don't make it all the way to the bed. The boy likes kissing more than anybody else Seunghyun's ever been with and is as loud as people like him promise to be. He tastes like peppermint and lets Seunghyun run his tongue over his jutting collarbones and pin his hands above him, the bracelets stacked on his wrists digging into the skin of Seunghyun's palms. He moans Seunghyun's name, over and over, his slight accent getting Seunghyun off quicker than normal. Or maybe it's the way noises seem to catch in his throat, or how he bites, hard, on his lip before transferring his teeth to Seunghyun instead.
Still pissed off, Seunghyun admittedly doesn't handle him that carefully, but residual guilt has him carrying the boy to his bed afterwards and tucking him in - only to have him slide down on the mattress and close his swollen lips around Seunghyun's cock to suck him off.
It feels good. No lyrics, or tunes, or even half a usable phrase drifts into his head but at least the night isn't a total loss, and he figures he can worry about his work and (plus) love life again tomorrow.
He doesn't mind that the blond tells him his name (Kwon Jiyong) or that he presses himself against Seunghyun's side when they finally drift off to sleep.
In the morning, Seunghyun wakes up to an empty bed underneath a rather fluorescent sunlight and a brilliantly stabbing pain in his head that feels like he's about to puke all of his internal organs onto the floor. He can't get his legs untangled from his sheets fast enough.
Instead of collapsing in front of the toilet, he opens his eyes from a blind run in time to realize he's about to collide headlong into his desk - and for some reason, he fumbles for a pen, collapses into the leather chair, and it seems to fit.
An hour and a half later, he's penned almost an entire song and has the tune to a possible chorus for another before he runs out of things to say.
Seunghyun stares at the untidy scrawl on the page for a second, blinks, and then cusses so loud he hears his neighbor yelp through the walls.
He's definitely not in 'love' or whatever the hell they told him to go do, but what's on the page is on the page, and he can't deny the source behind it. He considers for a moment that it's just the fact that he got laid, but throws that theory out the window a moment later, because he got plenty of action before Jiyong, with no tangible results like this.
So it's not love - hell, it makes a rather shoddy case for lust - and Seunghyun is sure of that. But some fuse in his brain has finally started up again, and he can't wrap his mind around the fact that a dumb little shit with an ecstasy problem (who handles it like a complete noob, to top it off) is the catalyst.
Red light for one new message.
Chaerin sounds halfway between pissed off and worried about him as she asks (snaps) in rather clipped tones where the fuck their new songs are and where he is. She tells him that Junhyung says he's supposed to have three songs by now, so that better be where he is or she's going to rip him a new one.
The message ends with "or, like, we don't have to have a musical career. That's cool too," before she hangs up, and Seunghyun remembers the vocalist-bassist telling him she'd rather resort to singing children's songs dressed up as a friendly purple dinosaur on national television than go back to bagging groceries at the local market. Which is saying something, because Chaerin hates kids.
He cards a hand through his hair because he's two songs short, and the newly bloomed genius inside his chest deflates.
Rue. Filthy, boarded-up windows, mold eating up at the foundations and weeds dead on the lawn. It doesn't even have a real sign, just the word spray painted in haphazard pink above the metal pull-up door to the…
Warehouse, Seunghyun decides once he makes it inside and realizes that the dark blocks scattered around in a seemingly random order are rusting shells of what were once cars. He wonders when the last time he got a tetanus booster was, but it's the only rave happening anywhere inside city boundaries tonight - that he knows about, anyway - and if he's going to find the blonde junkie anywhere, it'll be here.
In the meantime, it's in his best interest to get as drunk as possible. He heads for the bar, pushing past pale-thin bodies and makeup-darkened eyes, and sets a hand on the flipped-over hood of an antique fire truck to order a gin and tonic. It tastes like actual medicine and burns its way down his throat.
Still, a man on a mission is a man on a mission, and an hour later, he's successfully shitfaced. He searches for the music to hit him again, for something, anything because he has to still be able to pull inspiration from somewhere else - but so far nothing's working in his head save a phrase telling him over and over that he's boarding the train to has-been-ville before he's even hit 25.
He scans the room a few times for anybody with unnatural hair color sucking on baby toys, but then feels rather pathetic and gives up after a couple of minutes, going back to his drinks. Besides, he's not even sure what he'd say to a one-night stand on the day after. Maybe he should just give up and go home, write some half-assery about rusting cars, and tell his whole band to go fuck themselves.
And then somebody sits down next to him, and all of the sudden Seunghyun is turning his head to look at familiar blonde hair tonight spiked into a hawk and smudged, unfocused eyes, a different pacifier dangling from around Jiyong's neck as he grins. "What, you couldn't stay away?"
Seunghyun snorts and downs another shot. Now that he's found him, he's not exactly thrilled, nor is he sure where to go from here besides an awkward hi, I need to do this thing called love with you or something. "Shouldn't you be in bed recovering?"
"From the x or from you?" The shit-eating grin on Jiyong's face expands when it gets him a mildly surprised eyebrow raise, and he shrugs and steals one of the small glasses in Seunghyun's row. "I've been through worse. Jesus, this tastes like acid."
"You would know," Seunghyun agrees, and Jiyong backhands him on the arm before stealing another glass. He finishes the entire row of vodka without a hitch and drags a self-satisfied hand across the back of his mouth, slumping onto the barstool next to Seunghyun and swiveling around to watch the crowd.
"What're you doing here, anyways?" He asks, accented speech slurred and slow. "You don't rave, the concept of this thing is shitty, and you can get better alcohol at, like, a gas station."
"Wow," Seunghyun comments sarcastically, "you're fun when you drink."
"Thanks. Just trying to match your energy level." Jiyong doesn't let him off the hook easily. "But I'm actually curious. Unless glow sticks and candy kids are secretly your thing."
Seunghyun shakes his head. "Looking for someone." Lets that hang in the air, looks the blonde suggestively in the eye.
And like this was just always supposed to happen, like they're in the Twilight Zone and he's walking some weird-ass voodoo card, Jiyong takes the bait. "Who?" His interest is thinly veiled when he's this high, this drunk, both the alcohol and the drugs in his system making him undoubtedly horny; Seunghyun knows he's right when he sees the blatant want already skimming the surface of the other boy's soot-smudged eyes.
He doesn't know what to say because he's not exactly interested in Jiyong for the reasons he thinks and Seunghyun's never been one to pursue something like this, but his band is at his fingertips and he needs to pull himself and them back onto the fucking ledge.
So he doesn't say anything, continues to stare at Jiyong with the look he's used thousands of times and knows for a fact works, and he lets Jiyong come to him.
Which he does, and it's like persuading a three year old how Jiyong immediately slides off his stool, nudges Seunghyun's knees apart to stand between them, so close Seunghyun can feel his breath fanning his face when he whispers. "Now what?"
Seunghyun shrugs, acting nonchalant, looking away.
And then Jiyong leans forward to close the last few millimeters between them and press their mouths together, fisting the front of Seunghyun's shirt. Seunghyun responds, pressing a hand to the back of the other boy's neck to pull him closer and slide his tongue in his mouth, tasting lime and looking for music, and it's almost pleasant, just, this, and this is going to be easier than I thought.
This time, they get as far as the coffee table in the living room, Seunghyun sweeping the mahogany clear of the papers and empty cans and old records he'll regret breaking later to push Jiyong down on it and crawl over him instead. It's sloppy but Seunghyun doesn't give a damn, especially not when Jiyong's naked underneath him with one leg hooked around his waist and even more eager and willing than the night before, grinding, arching his back, shivering when Seunghyun sticks his lubed fingers inside him to prep and opening his mouth to drink him in whenever Seunghyun kisses him hard.
They somehow tumble to the floor, slick with sweat and sticking to the crumpled beginnings of papers and things, and Seunghyun closes his eyes and dreams in lights, crashes, white noise and underground rhythms and dimensions made of sound -
He blinks awake with his head about to explode and for a second, he can't process it all. Instead, he squints at something almost illegible scrawled on the back of his hand in a rather offending shade of green that hurts his eyes.
After a few seconds he realizes it's a phone number, with a name underneath that he hasn't yet used aloud and another written line that reads 'just in case'.
Five hours later, the unfinished second song, along with the beginning melodies to a third, is written on his desktop and bleeding through the pages of his notebook. Seunghyun's eyes are spinning and he feels like Ludwig van fucking Beethoven after finishing his very first symphony.
He sits and stares at the sheaf of papers in front of him for a while, vocalizing it in his head and feeling the last of the music leak out of his ears. It's possibly the best thing he's ever written, songs that helped land them their original fan base and then a record deal included.
It isn't until a bird chirps and he looks up to squint at the sun that he realizes it's dawn; his clock reads somewhere past seven, and the last coherent thought Seunghyun has before he passes out atop his mattress is that he's a pawn fighting a motherfucking war that makes absolutely no sense. It belongs in a nursery rhyme, inside Disney, behind the covers of a bad romance novel.
And if he can help things, he's done.
Two days, five espressos, nine packs of ramyun, seventeen thousand beers, and more dents in his wall than he can count, and he's thinking maybe shutting himself in the apartment until he figures this shit out all by himself isn't looking so bright and shiny anymore.
A hurricane has hit his desk in the form of words he's tried to come up with himself. After staring at the mess of scribbles and tangents and different colored pens and a corner of what ended up being nothing more than obscene doodles at one point, his brain becomes the collateral damage. The headache hits square between the eyes and sends him digging through his medicine cabinet after the lyrics in front of him start to blur.
Two Vicoden go down easily enough, and he turns the tap on to splash some water on his tired face and slump against the basin, wondering why his brain by itself is filled with nothing but crash collisions and dead ends.
You have one new message. Seunghyun listens to Jaebum's recorded voice tell him how practice is going ("terrible as shit, 'cause we have nothing to play so it's more like us fuckin' around in Junhyung's garage bangin' things for a couple hours. But no pressure, man,") as he trashes everything on his desk.
He pours himself a glass of scotch, takes it with four extra pills and his dignity, and then dials Jiyong's number on the back of his hand.
author : lovelyable
Monday, 21 May 2012
"Once upon a time, the basketball team of Teikou Middle School rose to distinction by demolishing all competition. The regulars of this team became known as the "Generation of Miracles". After graduating from middle school, these five stars went to different high schools with top basketball teams. However, a fact few know is that there was another player of the "Generation of Miracles", the phantom sixth player. This mysterious player is now a freshman at Seirin High, a new school with a powerful, if little-known, team. Now, Tetsuya Kuroko, the sixth member of the "Generation of Miracles", and Kagami Taiga, a naturally talented player who spent most of middle school in America, are aiming to bring Seirin to the top of Japan, taking on Kuroko's old teammates one by one."
Birthday: January 31
Blood Type: A
He is the sixth and the phantom member of the "Generation of Miracles", Kuroko is Seirin High's new secret weapon. Although he was an essential member of his middle schoolbasketball team, unlike his former teammates, Kuroko is unknown. This is largely because he is so small, frail, and easy to miss. While this means even his friends won't notice him until he is talking to them directly in front of them, Kuroko uses this to great effect on the court by stealing the ball and shifting the trajectories of passes to suit his team without being noticed by the opponents.
Founded only the year before, Seirin High produced abasketball team of freshman who made it all the way to the final league in that year's inter-high school tournament. This year, Seirin's team includes the newcomers Kuroko Tetsuya, a member of the "Generation of Miracles", and Kagami Taiga, a born natural who previously played in America. While young, this team is still renowned for its 'run-and-gun' play style, espousing high on-court speed in order to expedite counterattacks to compensate for their often inadequate defensive play.
Seijuro Akashi (赤司 征十郎 Akashi Seijuuro?)
Voiced by: Hiroshi KamiyaThe final member of the Generation of Miracles, he stood at their head as captain, leading their team to uncontested victory during the three years he played for Teikō Middle School. He is uninterested in winning, simply because victory in his eyes is an absolute given, requisite to his own life as much as breathing. But he has grown tired of victory in the absence of a chance of defeat; thus when it became clear that Aomine would not be able to participate in the final rounds of the inter-high school championship, he also withheld himself from playing and demanded Murasakibara do the same, wanting to make the games at least a little interesting. He upholds an extreme 'winner-take-all' philosophy, believing that victors are granted absolution in all things, while losers are denied everything. He claims never to have lost at anything, and as such he believes himself right in all things; he grows violent towards those who thus defy him, attempting to stab Kagami with a pair of scissors when the latter refused to leave even when told to do so. Respected and feared by the Generation of Miracles, they assemble as he demands, and can't help but heed his words.
Atsushi Murasakibara (紫原 敦 Murasakibara Atsushi?)
Voiced by: Kenichi SuzumuraFormerly playing center for Teikō Middle School's basketball team, he does the same now for Yōsen High School. Beyond possessing shoulder-length, purple hair, Murasakibara is immediately recognizable for his great height, at least ten centimeters taller than any other currently revealed member of the Generation of Miracles. Though his ability as a basketball player has never been disputed, he actually finds the sport uninteresting, simply playing the sport because he is excruciatingly good at it. Mildly sadistic and bemusingly childish, he is easily riled though generally laid-back, and can often be found with some form of candy in his mouth. His abilities have yet to be seen in full, but no one debates dubbing him the greatest center among high school players in Japan.His true abilities are shown during the match between Seiren and Yōsen. Using his incredible height of 208 cm (roughly 6 feet 10 inches) and strength from his weight of 95 kilograms (roughly 210 pounds) to dominate the area around the basket, he is able to tower any opposing player and block any attempts of jump shots, layups, and dunks. In offense, he utilizes his strength and height in conjunction in order to break free of any defense regardless of the players on defense, and overwhelm the opponents. His strength is seen when he breaks free of 3 defenders and is able to break down a basket through sheer talent and force.
Daiki Aomine (青峰 大輝 Aomine Daiki?)
Voiced by: Junichi SuwabeAomine was the ace of Teikō's team, embracing an aggressive and liquid style, made even more powerful by Kuroko's misdirection. However, other players like Kise dislike him, and his style of playing in particular. Incredibly fast and versatile, Aomine's strength lies in his unpredictability, as well as an uncanny ability to shoot from virtually any position, getting the ball in even from behind the backboard; possessing supreme speed coupled with surgical acceleration, very few can block and him, and only Kise Ryota, a fellow member of the Generation of Miracles, has been able to pass him. As a middle schooler, he had a pure love of basketball; but during his second year his skills suddenly exploded, single-handedly bringing his team to victory in point leads of up to 170. As his skill grew more renowned and feared, many players would simply give up in trying to stop him. Coming to the conclusion that he would never find an opponent capable of matching him in skill, Aomine has grown very jaded and sardonic, skipping practice altogether and arriving late for important games. He has been barred from playing in the last games of the Inter High-School Championship due to injuries he sustained in a match against Ryota Kise, who pushed Aomine far harder than he expected was possible. Despite his already supreme skill, he is capable of more, under the right circumstances; when faced against an appropriate opponent, he can enter his 'zone', where he is able to exert 100% of his capabilities. Though players of a certain caliber can all do this, only he is said to be able to do so at least partially of his own will.
Junpei Hyūga (日向 順平 Hyūga Junpei?)
Voiced by: Shinji Kawada (Vomic), Yoshimasa Hosoya (Anime)Captain of the Seirin team, Hyuuga is a clutch shooter, his capabilities escalating immensely when the team is in a pinch. Along with Hyuuga's change in skill comes a change in personality; when the team in not in a pinch, Hyuuga is a collected and calm individual, but when it is, he becomes heated and rude. Nevertheless, he is the best shooter on the team, regularly making three-pointer shots throughout the course of a game. Prior to the addition of Kuroko and Kagami, he was one of the centerpieces of the Seirin team's 'run-and-gun' play style (a style that utilized the team's exceptional offensive structure to counter even the toughest teams where their defense is inadequate), catching balls scooped by Kiyoshi near the net to shoot as three-pointers.
Taiga Kagami (火神 大我 Kagami Taiga?)
Voiced by: Katsuyuki Konishi (Vomic), Yūki Ono (Anime)A naturally gifted basketball player, Kagami easily makes his way into Seirin's regular line-up as a freshman. When he first returned to Japan, he was disappointed by his homeland's relatively low level of basketball compared to that in the States. However, since starting high school, Kagami has been spurred on by his desire to compete with the "Generation of Miracles". While he is a powerful all-around player, Kagami's unique skill lies in his ability to jump to great heights. This skill facilitates not only his most common move, the dunk, but also allows him to defend well against taller players; he even uses it to break Midorima's perfect shooting. While he generally jumps with his left leg in order to allow him the use of his more dexterous right arm, his right is far stronger, allowing him to touch the top of the backboard as opposed to just hitting the net. The drawback to this capability is that, like certain members of the Generation of Miracles, his body is still too underdeveloped in order to use his jumping prowess at great length without potentially damaging himself. Having trained extensively since the inter-high school championships, he can now dunk from the free-throw line, a feat that may have put him on a level with the Generation of Miracles. As Kuroko has chosen Kagami as his new "Light", Kagami is also bolstered by Kuroko's techniques. His zodiac sign is Leo. He has an extreme fear of dogs.
Ryōta Kise (黄瀬 涼太 Kise Ryōta?)
Voiced by: Ryohei KimuraNow a freshman at Kaijō High, Kise was the rookie of the "Generation of Miracles." Since he only started playing basketball in his second year of middle school, Kise was his team's least experienced member, and notes himself the weakest of the five. Kise's unique skill is his ability to mimic the moves and plays of other players. The only moves he cannot copy are the special skills of truly exceptional players, like the other members of the "Generation of Miracles". Beyond being a strong player in his own right, Kise takes liberal advantage of his good looks and poses as a model after school. He now seems able to mimic the exceptional: faced against Daiki Aomine, he copied his former Ace's nearly impossible style precisely during their game, matching him blow for blow throughout. While he lost when he passed the ball to a team mate, something Aomine himself would never do and could thus predict, he proved his boundless potential.
Shintarō Midorima (緑間 真太郎 Midorima Shintarō?)
Voiced by: Daisuke OnoOnce a member of the "Generation of Miracles," Midorima now serves as the shooting guard of Shūtoku High's basketball team. With his great height and unwavering calm, his skill is a super-accurate shot that can be taken from anywhere on court; as long as his stance and form is unaltered, his shots are said to never miss. With the range of his arm expanding across the entire court, Midorima allows himself and his team to conserve energy during a game by shooting from their side of the court, immediately ready to mount a defense. Midorima is so dedicated to basketball that he tapes his fingers when not playing, presumably to protect them for game time. Beyond this, Midorima believes in the absolute nature of fate, so he frequently checks the horoscope and follows its predictions and recommendations to the letter.Midorima's superstitions and their resulting miracles extend even to his normal life. Beyond being lucky in games of chance, like the flipping of coins, Midorima owns a carved pencil, which he uses on tests. Rolled randomly to give an answer to a multiple choice question, the pencil is correct the vast majority of the time. Midorima's Zodiac sign is Cancer.