( it's colder than he'd expected outside. it feels right for his mood, a sulky, creeping thing where he doesn't know what to do with the ache in his chest. it's too big for him to ignore and too messy to swallow down and all he can do is sit in the miasma of it, hands wrapped around a rapidly cooling mug of tea.
he doesn't know what he's doing. he's never been in this situation before. gaon isn't the kind of person who goes out of his way to hurt people and yet it had felt good knowing that each message might find a mark, that he might get yohan back the way yohan had gotten to him. pettiness doesn't suit him. the guilt will crawl up his throat later. but none of it is yohan's business, is it? who he sees. what company he keeps. gaon had made a mistake and yohan had backed out of it and there's nothing more to be said for it, right?
he forgoes his tea in favour of laying back across the table, as if there's a mechanism somewhere to turn off the ache. it's easier to just let the sounds of the city wash over him, the distant vehicles, a train somewhere too far away, the wind in the tree down the street, banging.
banging and--
he picks himself up slowly, and then quicker when he hears his name. there's no questioning who it is and he picks his way across the rooftop to the edge nearest the door, leaning far enough over the rail to see kang yohan below. )
What are you doing? ( hissed, just loud enough for him to hear but hopefully not enough to draw anyone else's ire. ) Go home.
( Gaon's voice comes from above and all Yohan can do is take a few staggering steps back to try and peer upwards. His movements are clumsy, inelegant, one hand rising to point at the dark shape of the other man, the other swaying where it's still clutching the bottle. )
Kim Gaon.
( Still angry, but a faint relieved edge, not quite smothered up like usual. He hates that it's there, the tiniest of shifts, a starburst of feeling inside of his chest. ) I can't. I won't. Not until you talk to me.
( He's still being too loud. It's late, and his voice carries, the slur of it evident the more he speaks. A dog starts barking in the distance and Yohan sways back towards the door, giving it a kick for good measure, shoulder pressed into the wall for balance. There is something deliberately uncoordinated about mind and body, his thoughts a faraway thing. Even his anger ebbs and flows like a wave, grip curling around the door handle so he can lean back again, trying to catch a glimpse. ) Kim Gaon. I'm not going away.
( he doesn't believe that yohan is actually drunk until he kicks his door. or doesn't understand just how far gone he is until that point and gaon heaves a sigh as he leans further over to see what kind of damage he's being threatened with.
he wants to shout at him. he thinks it might feel good to call him out, to name the man and name the deed where anyone might be in earshot. he doesn't think yohan is all too familiar with shame but stories always carry and who would it hurt the most to know that kang yohan is out drunk in the street late at night, shouting at one of his neighbours?
going downstairs is the last thing gaon wants right now. if he thought he could get away with going inside and ignoring yohan he probably would. he runs a hand down his face like he hasn't already made his mind up reaches to pull his hood up over his head. )
I'll come down, but-- ( he's barely above a whisper, trying to keep things quiet-- ) you have to swear you'll stop shouting.
( It is still, unfortunately, too loud. Yohan's expression is obscured by distance, by the dark, but the way he grimaces might carry, over-exaggerated as it is. His anger seesaws. It feels too wobbly to hold on to, though he knows it will be back. More quietly. ) Fine. Fine. But come down.
( His tone is querulous, though at least he doesn't kick the door again. Instead he watches until Gaon disappears, running a rough hand through his hair and lifting the other to bring the bottle back to his mouth, a fortifying swallow. If he ends up half leaning against the wall then that's his own business, his shoulders hunched against the slight chill, gaze on Gaon's door. Briefly, he considers what he'll do if the other man decides to just leave him here. Something dramatic, maybe. Something childish, quite possibly. But there's noise behind the door and Yohan tries straightening himself up.
He blinks, when it swings open. His gaze turns hungry, sliding over Gaon like a starving man. He doesn't even realise he's doing it. )
( he forgets his mug in his haste to get down the stairs.
he's a good neighbour. a nice boy. he keeps to himself, closes his business at a reasonable hour, and he doesn't bring quarrels to his door that might affect the people living around him. to think that the priest from the church across the street is the concern, here. that gaon needs to be the one reining him in.
there's something quiet and unexamined deep in his chest that likes it.
he steps outside, pulling the door closed behind him, hands shoving into the pockets of his hoodie. his mouth is a firm line but there's more concern in his eyes than there should be given their current argument and he reaches for yohan when he sways a little despite himself, steadying him by the shoulder even as his brow furrows. )
I don't think we have much to say to each other, do we?
( more than they already have? )
If you're just here to be mad at me then you should go back to your office.
( Gaon's hand is all heat, Yohan tries to focus on that as his thoughts crowd at the forefront of his skull. Had he a reason for coming? If he did, he doesn't remember it now. The anger swirls, swells. But it all pales in comparison to the man being here, right in front of him. He looks tired. Yohan can see that, he understands that. )
How did your date go?
( It comes out too bitter, he finds himself blinking at his own tone, stumbling forward to snag his fingers in Gaon's shirt sleeve, holding too tight. ) No, I don't care. I don't want to know. That's not what I came here for. I want to tell you that it isn't fair. You're not being fair. You weren't supposed to - to let go entirely. I was careful, I did everything the way I was meant to. So why -?
( It's loss, not anger. He realises it a little too late, standing there in the dark, his stomach sour with alcohol and all the terrible grief he has swallowed down throughout the years. He feels like a child ready to bawl because something has been taken away from him. He feels like the same angry thing he'd been before Isaac had told him to change. Gaon had been a balm, and he had not realised it. Now all the parts have begun aching again. )
( his hackles are up immediately, defensive at the first blow, but yohan catches himself quickly enough to soften the accusation. not well, mind you. it's something, though, especially when it comes to the way kang yohan is about expressing his feelings. gaon keeps a hold on him, half to keep his balance in check and half to maintain the distance. it's a good plan. reasonable. some kind of effective.
except yohan doesn't say what gaon expects him to and the vulnerability in it shocks him to stillness, eyes wide and searching yohan's face. even drunk he wouldn't expect this out of him. it feels like a weakness is being admitted, like yohan is rolling over and showing the soft of his belly and gaon is immediately and worryingly aware of just how dangerous a position he's in. how careful he needs to be. how fragile this moment is. )
Father Kang.
( soft, so soft, like approaching a cornered animal. he tightens his grip on yohan's shoulder, a gentle squeeze of reassurance. his stomach swoops a little and too many warring feelings rise up his throat, something between frustration and regret and want and resolve. he hasn't made his peace with it all yet but he understands that he needs to and this isn't helping. it's not making it easier. )
You told me to go. You told me we shouldn't. ( he swallows, watching the way the shadows from the light overhead make yohan's eyes darker. ) I can't just go back to the way it was before. ( he doesn't say i still want you, he bites back you have to let me get over you, he just lets out a heavy breath and reaches for yohan's other shoulder. ) We can be friends again, but not yet.
( He did. He'd said it. He'd shut down so quickly and efficiently there had been no room for anything else. Gaon is right, and his reaction is fine, it makes sense, it's natural. Except Yohan doesn't like it. There's a feeling inside of him now, writhing and sick with it, just a shade too wrong that he thinks he'd make any kind of bargain to have it go. Funny, that he's only felt something like this once before, in the hospital with nothing and no one else to ever help him through. Funny, that he guarded himself against it and still managed to fall back in. )
What else was I supposed to do? ( It sounds a little like he's not even asking Gaon, so desperate that it's too big for the both of them. ) I had to make you leave, I would have -.
( His teeth click, his body swaying against the palm of Gaon's hand. He would have kept kissing him, he knows that, would have drawn Gaon further and further into his web, would have lost him regardless, when the veneer had worn away and the younger man had realised just the kind of man he'd climbed into bed with. There's no avenue he gets to keep it, only he'd thought maybe he might. )
What do I have to do, Gaon? What steps do I have to take? I'll do them, I'm used to it. ( His head hurts, the sweaty grip on the bottle between them tightening, liquor sloshing. ) Tell me, so I can fix it. I hate it. I miss you.
( Ah, maybe he should have brained himself on the Font instead of this, he feels like he's bleeding. )
there are plenty of problems, actually, and a lot of them he's forcing himself to ignore because this biggest and the worst one is that he doesn't know what to do with any of this. yohan -- father kang -- is a force all on his own. he has a reputation to uphold. there are rumours and stories that circulate but none of them sound like more than lunch-rush rabble and gaon is learning to parse the truth out of what he hears. there is absolutely more than meets the eye here. gaon understands that there are secrets, that yohan could never really be the type of priest he comports himself to be, and he never would have dared to kiss him if he'd thought it might genuinely cross a line, spiritual or otherwise.
he doesn't know what to do with all of this. it's an admission made under duress and one he probably shouldn't hear. the angry, hungry parts of him thrill at it. he likes the pain in yohan's voice. it means something. he's not relishing in the hurt but the possibility. which is its own problem because he's supposed to be leaving him alone. what will happen when yohan is sober again? what consequences would come of this? )
Hey. ( cautious, quiet. ) It's okay.
( he drops a hand to wrap his fingers around the bottle, below yohan's, gently pulling it away from him with a soft smile. problem one: get yohan somewhere safe. carefully. tenderly, if he must. )
Let's go back to the church. Is your office still open?
( He acquiesces the bottle easily, doesn't even think to fight for it. Possibly he's just too drunk to remember his solace is being taken away, soothed by the softness of Gaon's voice. All Yohan can do is blink at him in the dim streetlight, mouth twisting briefly. )
It is. ( Half questioning, because he didn't really think all that much when he came across the street, so for all they know the main doors are just laying open. Either way, now there's a task at hand. And Gaon's lack of response to Yohan's franticly edged question feels answer enough. He can't quite get the walls back firmly in place, there's still something in his expression, but he's turning there on the doorstep either way, clumsy fingers leaving Gaon's sleeve. ) It's fine, I can make it. I'm fine.
( Promptly he twists too fast, dizzy with it, fist slamming off of nearby concrete. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, noisy, momentarily cradles his hand to his chest. It's not hurt. He shakes it out, still cursing. )
Aish. Don't laugh.
( He doesn't even know what Gaon is doing, the warning comes sightless. )
Or, you can. That's fine. Laugh all you want. I have to -. The church.
( he's not laughing. he's not going to. he's worried, though, and it's maybe a good thing that yohan can't see the look on his face, the concern knit into his brow. this is more complicated than it needs to be and the liquor will only serve to make it worse. but he's not cold-hearted enough to let yohan stumble his way back across the road alone and so he lets out the heavy breath he's been holding and tucks the bottle in beside his door so he can rush the couple of steps to catch up. )
Come on.
( he lifts yohan's arm and tucks his own under it, bumping their shoulders as he wraps his hands carefully around yohan's sore one. there's something young about it, jovial in the way friends might, and he clicks his tongue as he smooths a thumb across his skin. it's easier this way to steer yohan off the walkway and into the street, distracting from one wrong by enacting another. )
You're working so late tonight. Was something going on? Have you eaten?
( Gaon takes his hand and it's like all conscious thought flies away from Yohan. He forgets that he's angry, he forgets that he's tired, or bitterly unwell, forgets that they even fought in the first place. There's nothing else beyond the warmth, his throat thick with feeling. He finds himself looking between them, reliant only on Gaon's direction so as to not fall down in the street. )
No. ( To something going on, or to having eaten. Possibly both. ) I was ... ( What? Working up the courage? Brooding? Hiding away in the church because it's a comfort as much as it's a prison? He can't make his mouth follow his brain, so instead another noise. ) I didn't want Elijah to see me, she's upset with me.
( For chasing Gaon off, possibly. Or for being his usual noxious self when his feelings are hurt. Either, or. Mrs. Ji is staying the night, he made sure she was fine before he even sent himself hurtling down this path. But still, the guilt has started to eat at him. So he leans more heavily against Gaon's shoulder, not enough to upset the balance but to soak in more of the heat while he still can. )
( he's never seen yohan drunk and he never would have guessed that this is how it might play out. there are several things going on, of course, and gaon's contributions that brought him to this point can't be understated, but soft and sad and...lost? not the kang yohan he knows, so full of fire and brimstone on a good day, resolute in posture and pose. this can't just be over gaon, can it?
he slows them on the step up on the other side of the street, makes sure neither of them stumble. gaon heart thuds too loudly in his chest as he steers them across the yard towards the doors. only one of them is hanging open, thankfully.
there are questions that shouldn't be asked. boxes that are being closed that shouldn't be opened. gaon sighs as he helps yohan up the first steps and does it anyway. )
( He's paused on the steps, gaze on Gaon's face before it lifts upwards to the church itself. For a moment he doesn't say anything, a muscle in his jaw tightening, gaze lingering on the building before them. There's something faraway in his expression for a minute, before it clears. )
It's -. Plates. There are too many spinning. ( The words come clumsy, come exasperated. He dislikes being so drunk he cannot think, but if he weren't they'd stay locked up tight. ) I don't get to stop them, not even if I want to, and I don't know how to anyway. But I want -.
( Kim Gaon.
Yohan's gaze settles back on him, swaying there on the front door step. )
( he mouths plates silently to himself and frowns, slower than he should be to understand. it's the hour, it's the circumstances, it's half his focus on making sure he keeps both their balances in check and the words take their time in spelling out their meaning. what does a priest have to keep track of like that? what is there for him to have in the works that would bring him to this state?
gaon has a couple of guesses, but father kang has more secrets.
he searches yohan's face, open about it where he might have been more subtle if yohan was any closer to sober, and sighs as he shakes his head, a wry smile at the corner of his mouth. )
I'm not a plate. You can't spin me.
( gentle, a joke that might have more truth to it than he knows. he urges yohan up another step. )
( He follows up the next step without incident, slow about it in an attempt to prove that he's put together still. The concentrated effort is less Yohan in general though, the way he moves is often deliberate but not like this. Still he keeps looking at Gaon's face, eyes bright but hazy in the dark, the only light in them a reflection from inside. He finds he likes the smile there, wants to press his thumb to it. He half lifts his hand like he might, but then it drops to his shoulder instead. )
I could spin you.
( Stubborn, pouty about it. )
I'm very --. ( Clever? Tenacious? Nefarious? ) - Mm, maybe not. You're not easy to predict.
( The door yawns open, Yohan letting his hand drift to press against the wall briefly. His gaze shifts, back to the waiting dark. )
Aish, this place. I can make it the rest of the way. You don't have to -. ( He'll just smear himself against the door, the picture of put-togetherness. ) I'm fine.
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he doesn't know what he's doing. he's never been in this situation before. gaon isn't the kind of person who goes out of his way to hurt people and yet it had felt good knowing that each message might find a mark, that he might get yohan back the way yohan had gotten to him. pettiness doesn't suit him. the guilt will crawl up his throat later. but none of it is yohan's business, is it? who he sees. what company he keeps. gaon had made a mistake and yohan had backed out of it and there's nothing more to be said for it, right?
he forgoes his tea in favour of laying back across the table, as if there's a mechanism somewhere to turn off the ache. it's easier to just let the sounds of the city wash over him, the distant vehicles, a train somewhere too far away, the wind in the tree down the street, banging.
banging and--
he picks himself up slowly, and then quicker when he hears his name. there's no questioning who it is and he picks his way across the rooftop to the edge nearest the door, leaning far enough over the rail to see kang yohan below. )
What are you doing? ( hissed, just loud enough for him to hear but hopefully not enough to draw anyone else's ire. ) Go home.
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Kim Gaon.
( Still angry, but a faint relieved edge, not quite smothered up like usual. He hates that it's there, the tiniest of shifts, a starburst of feeling inside of his chest. ) I can't. I won't. Not until you talk to me.
( He's still being too loud. It's late, and his voice carries, the slur of it evident the more he speaks. A dog starts barking in the distance and Yohan sways back towards the door, giving it a kick for good measure, shoulder pressed into the wall for balance. There is something deliberately uncoordinated about mind and body, his thoughts a faraway thing. Even his anger ebbs and flows like a wave, grip curling around the door handle so he can lean back again, trying to catch a glimpse. ) Kim Gaon. I'm not going away.
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he wants to shout at him. he thinks it might feel good to call him out, to name the man and name the deed where anyone might be in earshot. he doesn't think yohan is all too familiar with shame but stories always carry and who would it hurt the most to know that kang yohan is out drunk in the street late at night, shouting at one of his neighbours?
going downstairs is the last thing gaon wants right now. if he thought he could get away with going inside and ignoring yohan he probably would. he runs a hand down his face like he hasn't already made his mind up reaches to pull his hood up over his head. )
I'll come down, but-- ( he's barely above a whisper, trying to keep things quiet-- ) you have to swear you'll stop shouting.
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( It is still, unfortunately, too loud. Yohan's expression is obscured by distance, by the dark, but the way he grimaces might carry, over-exaggerated as it is. His anger seesaws. It feels too wobbly to hold on to, though he knows it will be back. More quietly. ) Fine. Fine. But come down.
( His tone is querulous, though at least he doesn't kick the door again. Instead he watches until Gaon disappears, running a rough hand through his hair and lifting the other to bring the bottle back to his mouth, a fortifying swallow. If he ends up half leaning against the wall then that's his own business, his shoulders hunched against the slight chill, gaze on Gaon's door. Briefly, he considers what he'll do if the other man decides to just leave him here. Something dramatic, maybe. Something childish, quite possibly. But there's noise behind the door and Yohan tries straightening himself up.
He blinks, when it swings open. His gaze turns hungry, sliding over Gaon like a starving man. He doesn't even realise he's doing it. )
I want to talk to you.
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he's a good neighbour. a nice boy. he keeps to himself, closes his business at a reasonable hour, and he doesn't bring quarrels to his door that might affect the people living around him. to think that the priest from the church across the street is the concern, here. that gaon needs to be the one reining him in.
there's something quiet and unexamined deep in his chest that likes it.
he steps outside, pulling the door closed behind him, hands shoving into the pockets of his hoodie. his mouth is a firm line but there's more concern in his eyes than there should be given their current argument and he reaches for yohan when he sways a little despite himself, steadying him by the shoulder even as his brow furrows. )
I don't think we have much to say to each other, do we?
( more than they already have? )
If you're just here to be mad at me then you should go back to your office.
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How did your date go?
( It comes out too bitter, he finds himself blinking at his own tone, stumbling forward to snag his fingers in Gaon's shirt sleeve, holding too tight. ) No, I don't care. I don't want to know. That's not what I came here for. I want to tell you that it isn't fair. You're not being fair. You weren't supposed to - to let go entirely. I was careful, I did everything the way I was meant to. So why -?
( It's loss, not anger. He realises it a little too late, standing there in the dark, his stomach sour with alcohol and all the terrible grief he has swallowed down throughout the years. He feels like a child ready to bawl because something has been taken away from him. He feels like the same angry thing he'd been before Isaac had told him to change. Gaon had been a balm, and he had not realised it. Now all the parts have begun aching again. )
You weren't supposed to go.
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except yohan doesn't say what gaon expects him to and the vulnerability in it shocks him to stillness, eyes wide and searching yohan's face. even drunk he wouldn't expect this out of him. it feels like a weakness is being admitted, like yohan is rolling over and showing the soft of his belly and gaon is immediately and worryingly aware of just how dangerous a position he's in. how careful he needs to be. how fragile this moment is. )
Father Kang.
( soft, so soft, like approaching a cornered animal. he tightens his grip on yohan's shoulder, a gentle squeeze of reassurance. his stomach swoops a little and too many warring feelings rise up his throat, something between frustration and regret and want and resolve. he hasn't made his peace with it all yet but he understands that he needs to and this isn't helping. it's not making it easier. )
You told me to go. You told me we shouldn't. ( he swallows, watching the way the shadows from the light overhead make yohan's eyes darker. ) I can't just go back to the way it was before. ( he doesn't say i still want you, he bites back you have to let me get over you, he just lets out a heavy breath and reaches for yohan's other shoulder. ) We can be friends again, but not yet.
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( He did. He'd said it. He'd shut down so quickly and efficiently there had been no room for anything else. Gaon is right, and his reaction is fine, it makes sense, it's natural. Except Yohan doesn't like it. There's a feeling inside of him now, writhing and sick with it, just a shade too wrong that he thinks he'd make any kind of bargain to have it go. Funny, that he's only felt something like this once before, in the hospital with nothing and no one else to ever help him through. Funny, that he guarded himself against it and still managed to fall back in. )
What else was I supposed to do? ( It sounds a little like he's not even asking Gaon, so desperate that it's too big for the both of them. ) I had to make you leave, I would have -.
( His teeth click, his body swaying against the palm of Gaon's hand. He would have kept kissing him, he knows that, would have drawn Gaon further and further into his web, would have lost him regardless, when the veneer had worn away and the younger man had realised just the kind of man he'd climbed into bed with. There's no avenue he gets to keep it, only he'd thought maybe he might. )
What do I have to do, Gaon? What steps do I have to take? I'll do them, I'm used to it. ( His head hurts, the sweaty grip on the bottle between them tightening, liquor sloshing. ) Tell me, so I can fix it. I hate it. I miss you.
( Ah, maybe he should have brained himself on the Font instead of this, he feels like he's bleeding. )
no subject
there are plenty of problems, actually, and a lot of them he's forcing himself to ignore because this biggest and the worst one is that he doesn't know what to do with any of this. yohan -- father kang -- is a force all on his own. he has a reputation to uphold. there are rumours and stories that circulate but none of them sound like more than lunch-rush rabble and gaon is learning to parse the truth out of what he hears. there is absolutely more than meets the eye here. gaon understands that there are secrets, that yohan could never really be the type of priest he comports himself to be, and he never would have dared to kiss him if he'd thought it might genuinely cross a line, spiritual or otherwise.
he doesn't know what to do with all of this. it's an admission made under duress and one he probably shouldn't hear. the angry, hungry parts of him thrill at it. he likes the pain in yohan's voice. it means something. he's not relishing in the hurt but the possibility. which is its own problem because he's supposed to be leaving him alone. what will happen when yohan is sober again? what consequences would come of this? )
Hey. ( cautious, quiet. ) It's okay.
( he drops a hand to wrap his fingers around the bottle, below yohan's, gently pulling it away from him with a soft smile. problem one: get yohan somewhere safe. carefully. tenderly, if he must. )
Let's go back to the church. Is your office still open?
no subject
It is. ( Half questioning, because he didn't really think all that much when he came across the street, so for all they know the main doors are just laying open. Either way, now there's a task at hand. And Gaon's lack of response to Yohan's franticly edged question feels answer enough. He can't quite get the walls back firmly in place, there's still something in his expression, but he's turning there on the doorstep either way, clumsy fingers leaving Gaon's sleeve. ) It's fine, I can make it. I'm fine.
( Promptly he twists too fast, dizzy with it, fist slamming off of nearby concrete. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, noisy, momentarily cradles his hand to his chest. It's not hurt. He shakes it out, still cursing. )
Aish. Don't laugh.
( He doesn't even know what Gaon is doing, the warning comes sightless. )
Or, you can. That's fine. Laugh all you want. I have to -. The church.
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Come on.
( he lifts yohan's arm and tucks his own under it, bumping their shoulders as he wraps his hands carefully around yohan's sore one. there's something young about it, jovial in the way friends might, and he clicks his tongue as he smooths a thumb across his skin. it's easier this way to steer yohan off the walkway and into the street, distracting from one wrong by enacting another. )
You're working so late tonight. Was something going on? Have you eaten?
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No. ( To something going on, or to having eaten. Possibly both. ) I was ... ( What? Working up the courage? Brooding? Hiding away in the church because it's a comfort as much as it's a prison? He can't make his mouth follow his brain, so instead another noise. ) I didn't want Elijah to see me, she's upset with me.
( For chasing Gaon off, possibly. Or for being his usual noxious self when his feelings are hurt. Either, or. Mrs. Ji is staying the night, he made sure she was fine before he even sent himself hurtling down this path. But still, the guilt has started to eat at him. So he leans more heavily against Gaon's shoulder, not enough to upset the balance but to soak in more of the heat while he still can. )
I keep doing things wrong.
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he slows them on the step up on the other side of the street, makes sure neither of them stumble. gaon heart thuds too loudly in his chest as he steers them across the yard towards the doors. only one of them is hanging open, thankfully.
there are questions that shouldn't be asked. boxes that are being closed that shouldn't be opened. gaon sighs as he helps yohan up the first steps and does it anyway. )
Do you know what you want, Father Kang?
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( He's paused on the steps, gaze on Gaon's face before it lifts upwards to the church itself. For a moment he doesn't say anything, a muscle in his jaw tightening, gaze lingering on the building before them. There's something faraway in his expression for a minute, before it clears. )
It's -. Plates. There are too many spinning. ( The words come clumsy, come exasperated. He dislikes being so drunk he cannot think, but if he weren't they'd stay locked up tight. ) I don't get to stop them, not even if I want to, and I don't know how to anyway. But I want -.
( Kim Gaon.
Yohan's gaze settles back on him, swaying there on the front door step. )
You weren't a part of the plan.
no subject
gaon has a couple of guesses, but father kang has more secrets.
he searches yohan's face, open about it where he might have been more subtle if yohan was any closer to sober, and sighs as he shakes his head, a wry smile at the corner of his mouth. )
I'm not a plate. You can't spin me.
( gentle, a joke that might have more truth to it than he knows. he urges yohan up another step. )
no subject
I could spin you.
( Stubborn, pouty about it. )
I'm very --. ( Clever? Tenacious? Nefarious? ) - Mm, maybe not. You're not easy to predict.
( The door yawns open, Yohan letting his hand drift to press against the wall briefly. His gaze shifts, back to the waiting dark. )
Aish, this place. I can make it the rest of the way. You don't have to -. ( He'll just smear himself against the door, the picture of put-togetherness. ) I'm fine.