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The others have already gone home for the evening. Keeho is in a pretty rotten mood, the bad vibes just steaming off of him, rolling over him hot and to be honest, kind of smelly. They’ve been dancing for hours and the little a/c unit in the wall is not keeping up with the humidity. The walls are sweating, he can barely see himself in the mirror with it all fogged up, and Keeho wants to die. Really Taeyang should be here too, if anyone needs help with choreography, it’s him. Instead, Keeho is here with Jiung, going over it again and again. Jiung wants it to be perfect. Keeho just wants to eat and sleep.
“You’re supposed to move forward on 4, why do you keep going on 2?” Jiung asks, pausing the music and scrolling back to play it again. If at all possible, Jiung’s vibes are even worse. Keeho can tell he is annoyed, tired, hungry, and just generally pissed that he is the one who has to stay behind to help Keeho.
“It sounds like there is a break there and my body just goes,” Keeho sweeps a hand through his sweaty bangs and mops the sweat off his face with his sleeve. He doesn’t really know why he keeps getting it wrong.
“Well next time, actually count it out and don’t just go,” Jiung bites back at him, tone mocking like he doesn’t think Keeho can handle doing any of this at all. Keeho wishes one of the other members were here to act as a buffer between them. He can feel things getting more and more tense, he is afraid either himself, or Jiung, or both of them will snap.
“I am counting, I’m saying it doesn’t feel natural to move then.”
“Just do it again.” Jiung shakes his head and hits play. They mark the choreography up until the chorus, where they pick up doing it full out and they were doing well until Keeho steps on Jiung’s foot. Keeho yelps as he rolls his ankle and falls to his knees to avoid to bending it further at a weird angle.
“What the fuck?” Jiung rears on him, and Keeho is genuinely a little afraid of him in this moment. Jiung’s face is redder than he has ever seen it, eyebrows pulled into a horrible grimace, he is grinding and baring his teeth, and Jiung has the high ground here. “Can you pick up your stupid fucking feet?”
Keeho stands slowly, rotating his ankle carefully and watching Jiung warily. “It was an accident, Jiung.” He limps away to get a drink of water while Jiung resets the music again. He has to get it right this time or he thinks he might pass out. He isn’t entirely sure Jiung won’t pass out either, from anger and frustration, if not from dehydration and the heat of the under ventilated practice room.
Jiung counts out loud and claps during the next attempt to make sure Keeho hits the mark. They finish the full out run through and Keeho is bent over, hands on his knees, panting harshly. He thinks he has finally done it but hears Jiung make a sucking sound through his teeth. Fuck.
“You were late going into your own verse, and the footwork was all wrong during the chorus. Are you sure you know how to dance or are you just fucking lazy?”
Keeho audibly gasps. He is certainly one for the drama but this is downright mean. Jiung knows how hard he works for the team, he knows Keeho has lost so many hours in this building writing, editing, planning, going to stupid corporate meetings with the higher ups, and this is how he is treated? He is anything but lazy, Jiung is just in a fucking mood today. Keeho is pissed and tired, he grabs his stuff and heads for the door but Jiung steps right in front of him.
“No way. I’ve been staying late every single night to help you, you don’t get to leave now.”
“Not if you’re going to be a dick about it. Get out of the way, Jiung.” Keeho steps sideways to get around him but Jiung puts his hand out to stop him, his palm burning hot on the center of Keeho’s chest. Keeho rips the hand off of him. “Don’t fucking touch me. What is wrong with you today?”
Jiung scoffs loudly. “Wrong with me? You’re the problem, Keeho. You think we’d still be struggling so much if I was the leader? Every single member would still be here practicing until it was perfect, instead of just letting them fuck off and go home.” Jiung has said some hurtful things when they fight but this feels like it’s going too far. The ache in his chest confirms it.
Keeho shoves Jiung away, hard, hard enough that the breath is knocked out of him when his back hits the practice room door. Shocked, Keeho starts to panic because he really doesn’t want this to escalate more. He really, really wishes one of the others stayed behind. Jiung looks madder than he has ever been, Keeho can feel it, it’s radiating off of him in thick, taut waves. Jiung looks like he wants to hurt him.
When Jiung steps toward him, Keeho barely has time to think, he just swings. His fist makes solid contact with Jiung’s nose with a sickening crunch. Blood splatters onto his face and he looks down at his bloody fist then up at Jiung clutching his gushing nose.
“What the FUCK?” Jiung’s scream turns from pained to shocked to absolutely outraged when he looks at his bloodied hands. “Oh my god?”
“Shit.” Keeho backs away from Jiung, cradling his fist in his other hand, fingers rubbing over cracked and bleeding knuckles. He has never punched anyone before, never wanted to punch anyone before, he had no idea it would hurt this badly. Jiung looks a little dazed, Keeho doesn’t expect him to retaliate so quickly, he doesn’t even see the fist coming his way until it hits him.
Jiung’s bony knuckles glance off Keeho’s chin, splitting his bottom lip and sending him head first into the mirror. The cheap glass shatters around him, shards raining down around him as he collapses to the floor, arms over his head. Neither of them move, thirty seconds pass before Keeho relaxes his body even slightly. Everywhere hurts, his head, his fist, his arms, he is bleeding from a few cuts on his neck and forearms now. Immediately, his mind is on the damage they’ve just done to company property. Their manager will take it out of their allowance for sure. He’ll tell the company it was his fault and leave the others out of it. There’s blood everywhere.
“Keeho? Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jiung crouches down to check on Keeho but gets shoved away and he lands on the floor, sprawled out on his ass. They sit for another few minutes, just breathing heavily, trying to process what just happened. It’s amazing, and very much terrifying what hunger and exhaustion driven delirium can ignite.
“Wow, Jiung. I knew you were a moody bitch." Keeho laughs. "I know you hate helping me but you’re a real cunt, you know that?” Keeho picks a small piece of glass from his palm, he tries to lick the cut on his bottom lip to feel it out but it’s already so swollen that he can barely do that.
“I’m the moody bitch? You hit me first, Keeho.” Jiung wipes the blood under his nose with his arm and he moves closer to Keeho again, wanting to look him over.
“You are terrifying when you are mad, no d-don’t come any closer,” Keeho sits up on his knees, prepared for the next move. He is tired and he hurts and he is sure he is supposed to be putting ice or something on his split lip. All of a sudden, the taste of blood in his mouth makes him feel nauseous. He spits blood on the floor between them. “I said, don’t, Jiung.”
“I didn’t mean to get so mad, I’m just so fucking tired.” However, Jiung is still inching closer to him, and if Keeho was a feral dog, his hackles would be up. Gone is the friendly, happy, supportive leader, and in his place, is a wounded animal hanging on his last shred of dignity.
“Careful, Jiung.” Keeho warns, low and grating, as if that is supposed to make sense to Jiung. It doesn’t even make sense to Keeho. Careful of what? Jiung now looks like he is trying to tame an escaped animal. Keeho has seen videos of that on the news, zookeepers and police surrounding the scared beast, hands reaching out in front of him, a trap set behind him.
Keeho lunges forward, hands immediately wrapping around Jiung’s neck, and there’s really nothing to it, his fingers are able tighten easily around it. He can feel Jiung’s adam’s apple bobbing under his hands, his fingernails scratching his forearms, trying to pry him off. He literally and metaphorically sees red, his arms and hands are covered in it, Jiung’s face is smeared with it, and Keeho just loses it. He allows himself a small moment to pull away. He winds up and smacks Jiung, palm open right on the cheek. The sound of it rings clear and sharp through the room. Jiung gasps for breath, coughing and sputtering, eyes out of focus looking somewhere behind Keeho’s head.
Before Jiung has the chance to fully recover from the blow, Keeho grips his stupid bleached cotton candy hair and drags his mouth to his in an angry, searing kiss. Keeho whimpers a little at the pressure on his wrecked lip, feels a warm gush of blood when Jiung bites him. In retaliation, he presses his face harder into Jiung, sure to bump his swollen and bleeding nose with the next kiss.
“I’m going to fucking destroy you,” Keeho shakes Jiung’s head, pushing him to the floor, not giving a shit the shards of glass mirror are digging into his knees, adding to his wounds. Jiung licks his lips, either as an innocent gesture or a challenge. Keeho takes it as the latter. He pries Jiung's jaw open roughly and spits blood right into his mouth. Jiung immediately spits it back at him, but Keeho is already moving on, pushing Jiung’s shorts and boxers down.
“Fuck,” Jiung scrambles to stop him but his sneakers get caught up, legs essentially hobbled at the ankles. He manages to kick Keeho away but he is back on him in an instant, roughly rolling Jiung onto his stomach, the crunch of glass under his body both disturbing and satisfying.
“I guess I am lucky you let Intak fuck you this morning, you’re still so open,” Keeho groans, he pulls his half hard cock out as he easily slips a thumb into Jiung’s ass. “Did you let him cum in you?”
It’s easy to slide two fingers in with the sweat from practicing in this hot hellscape of a room, but just to be safe Keeho lets his spit drip down onto his fingers, gasping quietly when he sees, when remembers his mouth is bleeding. The spit and blood mix to make the slide of his fingers smoother but a little sticky, tacky like drying paint. He leans down to whisper in Jiung’s ear, “Tell me no.”
Jiung doesn’t say anything, but he pushes his ass back onto Keeho’s fingers. This is fucked up, he is in so much pain, but he has also never been more turned on. “I hate you,” he grinds out, gritting his teeth as he can feel sharp slivers of glass beneath him catch on his soft skin.
“It’s not a no.” Keeho shrugs and pushes his dick into Jiung roughly. He only thrusts a few times before he rolls them over, Keeho on his back to protect Jiung from the glass and Jiung bouncing in his lap, legs spread wide over each of Keeho’s.
“Oh my fucking god,” Jiung’s head drops back, dizzy from the pleasure and the trauma, probably. He thinks absently, is it bad to have sex when you have a concussion? They usually tell you to stay awake, so if you’re fucking, you’re not sleeping, and that sounds like the right thing to do. Jiung’s fingernails are digging into Keeho’s forearms again but this time it’s because he feels good.
“Fuck, Jiung-ah,” Keeho bites Jiung’s shoulder, feeling his teeth break skin just a little, before sucking on the bruise and tasting blood in his mouth. Jiung reaches back and tries to pull Keeho in for a kiss, but Keeho pushes him away, pushes him until Jiung is fully sitting up in his lap. “Ride me until you come.”
Keeho knows the glass is hurting Jiung’s knees with the way it crushes and squeaks every time he lifts himself up and fucks back down. He can feel pieces digging into his own exposed ass cheeks, little pinpricks where he knows he will have so many punctures and scratches. They’re facing a wall with an unbroken mirror and Jiung gasps and tightens around him when he sees their reflection through the streaky, fogged up glass.
“Keeho,” Jiung gasps, wiping a fresh gush of blood from his nose. The fast movement to sitting upright and the effort of fucking himself on Keeho’s cock must have made it bleed faster again. It is dripping down his chest and onto his cock now. “Fuck, this is so-ah, ah, ah.”
Jiung trails off into little moans, panting, each one punched out of his lungs with every roll of his hips. Keeho is thrusting up too, meeting him halfway, bony hips bruising Jiung’s ass with each slap. Jiung wraps his fist around his cock and strokes to get himself off as fast as possible. It’s sticky from the blood and mostly dry anyway but the friction feels good. He feels like flames are licking through his body, consuming him, burning him up into nothing.
Keeho’s hands flex and grip at his ass, pushing and pulling, urging him to go faster. “Come on, Jiung. Give it to me.” Jiung moans loudly and comes not even five seconds after. His moaning is loud, echoing against the concrete walls of the practice room. His thighs are trembling with it, the shiver radiating out to his whole body, his muscles caught somewhere between tight and loose. His dick is spurting cum on Keeho’s legs and all over floor. He falls forward and catches himself with a hand on Keeho’s knee. He is fucking himself slowly and whimpering as he tugs the last few spasms of cum from his dick.
“Oh fuck, yes. Just a little bit more, babe, little more, please,” Keeho is breathless, gripping Jiung tightly and grinding up into his hole. Jiung squeezes on him and that sends Keeho over the edge, spilling into Jiung for what feels like an eternity. Jiung is still moving, riding him very slowly, milking Keeho for every last drop despite his own overstimulation. He whimpers when Keeho thrusts in one last time and pulls Jiung to lay back on his chest again.
They lay there together on the floor, not saying a word, as they cool down. Keeho cradles Jiung, crying quietly, his wet and bloody face tucked into the back of his neck. After some time, Jiung wriggles off of him and turns in his arms so they are facing each other. They kiss slowly, carefully, short and chaste but only because their bruised faces can’t take much more battering. Keeho whispers apologies in between kisses and Jiung nods, saying he is sorry too, in his own way.
Eventually they get up, their muscles aching and skin blooming with bruises all over. They sneak down the hall into the showers where they gently clean each other, whispering more apologies and some promises too. Jiung fetches some ice packs while Keeho cleans the practice room, sweeping up the glass and wiping the blood off the floor. It takes him three times longer than it should with how much his body hurts. He will have to come up with some story about how the mirror broke when he tells the manager about it tomorrow. They are fucking exhausted, dragging their feet by the time they get home. Keeho doesn’t let Jiung out of his sight for the rest of the evening but Jiung stays close anyway, practically sitting in Keeho’s lap on the couch after dinner. They are both ignoring the other member’s concerned glances at their bruised faces and sudden closeness. They only told Taeyang about the fight between them, and even then, they didn’t tell him the whole story.