f.t island; onesided seunghyun/jonghun, hongki/jonghun; pg-13; 2,607 words.
jonghun stuffed seunghyun's heart full of love from the start.
f.t island; onesided seunghyun/jonghun, hongki/jonghun; pg-13; 2,607 words.
jonghun stuffed seunghyun's heart full of love from the start.
Seunghyun was made by Jonghun when he was six. He put the little stuffed heart inside of him and gave him a hug and brought him to life, and he’s been with him since that day. The other toys say that it’s only natural to fall in love with the first person that gives you a hug, so he doesn’t question when his heart beats a little too fast in his stuffed chest whenever Jonghun appears and tugs on his ears.
The middle of the night is Seunghyun’s favorite time. When Jonghun will drape an arm across his middle and pull him close. He’ll hug him to his chest, and his breath will tickle his soft fur. Seunghyun can feel his heartbeat against his ear, feels him breathing and wishes he could move, wishes he could hug him back.
He’s the one who Jonghun comes to when he’s older after breaking up with his first girlfriend and hugs close, burying his face in his soft fur and letting his tears disappear inside of it. He’s the one who holds audience to Jonghun’s first experience with a guitar. He watches with him when he discovers porn for the first time.
When Jonghun finds out he likes boys, he’s the one who he confesses to first, murmuring it into his ears and asking “do you still love me?” Seunghyun does, forever, because Jonghun’s the one who created his heart, the one who he’ll always smile at, the one who won’t abandon him.
When Seunghyun’s neck gets a hole and starts to lose stuffing, Jonghun carefully sews a plaid bow over it to hide the spot, and Seunghyun’s feels warm because it’s the second gift he’s ever received, after his heart. Jonghun’s fingers are soft and careful as they sew the bow into his skin, tenderly moving the needle through his skin and out. Seunghyun’s never felt as handsome as he does when Jonghun’s finished and beams down at him and gives him a hug.
When Jonghun brings home a boy for the first time - locking the door behind him and fumbling with the belt buckle, Seunghyun wishes he could cry, because he doesn’t want to watch but he can’t stop. Jonghun kisses the boy harder than he ever kissed Seunghyun. It’s needier, hurried, like he’s trying to rush because he doesn’t know how much time they’re going to have.
Seunghyun feels sorry for the boy, because he knows, somewhere in his heart, that he’s going to have forever with Jonghun.
Then Jonghun finishes high school and moves into college and the walls change from soft blue to white and the toys disappear and are replaced with books and a televisions and games, but Seunghyun stays, tucked into the corner of Jonghun’s bed.
Seunghyun stays there, has always been there, but then Hongki arrives into his life with a flurry of motion and chaos. He flops down on Jonghun’s bed and Seunghyun can’t hold his balance because the world shakes, and he falls to his face on the mattress. Hongki picks him up, hands rough as he gives him a once over, tugs on his bow and his ears and squishes his nose hard into his face and laughs, dangling him by the foot.
“What’s this?” He says, and tosses Seunghyun at Jonghun, who catches him and holds him in both hands with a small frown on his face. Seunghyun wishes he could cry, because he’s so frightened.
“Seunghyunie,” he frowns, and sets him on a shelf. “He’s my bear.”
“You still sleep with stuffed animals?” Hongki’s laugh is harsh as he pulls him down on top of him by the collar of his shirt. “Childish.”
“Shut up,” Jonghun murmurs, climbing onto the bed and straddling him with his legs. “I made him when I was six.”
“Is that why his nose is lopsided?” Seunghyun frowns, he’s always liked his nose.
“He’s cute, okay. Can we stop talking about the stupid bear?” Jonghun asks, and presses kisses against the side of his neck, his collarbone, and trails his hands down Hongki’s body. Seunghyun wishes he could cry, or walk, or move, or do something - anything. Jonghun’s his only friend. He uses him as a punching bag when he’s sad, or mad, or frustrated, he hugs him when he’s sad, he hides his tears inside his heart when he’s crying, but Jonghun’s never called him stupid - in all the years he’s been alive.
Two weeks later, Jonghun comes into his room hurriedly, with raised voices following him. His eyes are wide, his hands are shaking, his father comes in and shakes him by the collar of his shirt. His mother smacks him on the cheek, crying.
“Get out,” his father tells him, and then they leave him alone in his room with just Seunghyun for company. Jonghun packs a bag and fills it with clothes and necessities and throws all the money he has in his wallet. He sits on the bed and fumbles through his contacts on his phone. Seunghyun’s confused, scared, lost, and doesn’t want Jonghun to leave. At least not without him.
“Hongki? Hey.” Jonghun rubs at the back of his neck before reaching out and subconsciously pulling Seunghyun close. “I told them.” Seunghyun feels his chest rise and fall, faster and faster, until tears start to drop onto the top of his head. “They didn’t take it well...would it...would it be okay if I crashed with you until I can find an apartment?” He rubs at the top of Seunghyun’s head and frowns down at him. “Thanks,” he says with a sigh.
He hangs up and drops his head down onto Seunghyun’s. “I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs, holding him hard. They stay like this until Hongki arrives and the raised voices start again. Hongki enters, looking frazzled, and pissed, and grabs Jonghun’s guitar case and swings it over his shoulder, and picks up one of his bags. Jonghun stands, taking Seunghyun with him and pulling his backpack over his shoulders.
“Thanks, Hongki,” he says, and takes Seunghyun along with him, stuck between his hip and his warm, warm hand.
“You’re so treating me tonight,” Hongki smiles through all the chaos of the world around them. “Leave your bear here, you’re not six anymore.”
“I can’t,” Jonghun says. “He’s my therapist.”
“I think you mean child,” Hongki says, but rolls his eyes anyway. The words ring in Seunghyun’s heart, and he doesn’t know whether he should be glad or not, because the hand holding him is warm but Jonghun’s other hand is in Hongki’s, and he’s sure that it’s much warmer.
Seunghyun had only been outside of Jonghun’s room when he was first bought and then on sleepovers and family trips. Every other time he’s been stuffed in his bag, but this time, settled in Jonghun’s lap, he can see the bright sunlight and the blue sky. The sun scares him and yet, he feels warm in it, comfortable, like he feels when Jonghun hugs him. Birds flew above them, and Seunghyun envies their freedom. Jonghun plays with his arms the whole time they’re in the car, idly waving them up and down and clapping them together, and Seunghyun’s happy to be played with, even if it’s just a few minutes.
When they get to Hongki’s flat, Jonghun places him on his backpack on the floor and helps Hongki make a makeshift bed out of some blankets on his couch. “I can’t thank you enough for this,” Jonghun says, joining their fingers together and pulling Hongki closer. Hongki makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat but presses his lips against the corner of Jonghun’s mouth with a laugh. Seunghyun wishes he could do that, too, but he can’t. He’s just a toy, he’s not supposed to love.
“No problem, just don’t tell my landlord.” Hongki smiles, and Jonghun slides his hands down to his hips, under his shirt, down his pants. Seunghyun wishes he didn’t have to watch it, but his eyes stare, unblinking. He can feel his tiny, stuffed heart breaking when Jonghun whispers to Hongki, naked and shaking and sweating, that he loves him.
Seunghyun finds himself grow weary, as time goes on. Sometimes Jonghun will sleep with him on the couch, roll on him in the middle of the night, where he’d end up between the cushions until Jonghun finds him a few weeks later and returns him to his rightful place. Seunghyun can feel Jonghun growing up, more and more every day. He’s still there, offering his silent support as he fights with Hongki over little things, as they make up loudly and toss him on the floor. When Jonghun calls his parents and ends up bickering with them, Seunghyun’s there to silently offer his support. When he cries, he tells himself, he’s still needed, and then he feels bad for wanting Jonghun to cry at all.
Seunghyun loves him. He loves him more than Hongki loves him, because Jonghun is the one who made him. But when Hongki presses Jonghun down against the cushions, right next to Seunghyun’s face, and makes him watch as they kiss, sometimes hard and furious, but sometimes slow and agonizing, Seunghyun remembers everything he can’t do. He’s a toy, he’s only stuffed. Jonghun is his father because Jonghun is the one who made him.
“Your bear is creepy,” Hongki whispers once, laying on top of Jonghun as he stares up at Hongki, unwilling to watch but unable to turn around. Jonghun laughs and kisses his mouth.
“He’s my kid,” is all he says. “I put his heart inside myself.”
“Should he be watching us, then?” Hongki asks, grinning down at Jonghun, who looks at Seunghyun quizzically. Seunghyun wishes he could scream, turn me around, move me, throw me away, but he can’t. He stares at Jonghun with his big eyes and puts all of his feelings into his wish. Jonghun raises a hand and pats him on the top of the head before turning back to Hongki.
“Seventeen-years-old is plenty old enough to learn about these sorts of things.”
Seunghyun wishes the smile Jonghun shot at him didn’t hurt his heart, because Jonghun’s never hurt him, never. He’s always been a good owner, always so nice. But the more time goes on, the more he’s being forgotten, the lonelier he is. He wants him, oh yes, how he wants him to hold him one more time, but the only time Jonghun moves him in the months and years that slowly tick by, the less he’s held.
They move out of Hongki’s apartment a years later and find a studio apartment together. It’s cramped and small, and Jonghun puts him on the night stand and for the next three years they live there, fighting and bickering and making up.
Then they move again, to a bigger house with two bedrooms. The guitars and music folders disappear into a closet and are replaced with business suits and ties. They sleep in one bedroom, but the other they spend forever in, painting and moving things into, strange things that he’s never seen before. Seunghyun stays on a shelf, forgotten and gathering dust. His brown fur starts to fade. The plaid bow fades from bright red to faded maroon. He wants to be loved again, craves it, but his heart grows lonelier as Jonghun grows older.
They start to talk to each other, excited. There’s a party, in which many presents are exchanged. Too many people come and everyone seems to talk over each other. Hongki’s the loudest, pushing against Jonghun and holding his hand, talking animatedly. They’re both so happy, happier than Seunghyun’s ever seen him, and he wishes, just once more, that Jonghun would love him that much, just once more, like when he was a kid.
Then, one day, they come home earlier from work. Jonghun’s holding a small bundle in his arms and Hongki’s carrying a bag slung over his shoulder. He drops it in the doorway and they both peer down at the small bundle, which gives a very small noise, and raises a very small fist.
“Welcome home, Minyoung,” Jonghun says, touching a finger to the baby’s cheek. Minyoung gurgles at him and grabs his finger in her fist.
“I can’t believe it,” Hongki says, “I can’t believe it.” Then Minyoung starts to scream, and Hongki flails backwards a little, fumbling in the bag and pulling out a bottle. Jonghun snatches it from him and presses it against her cheeks, and she stops crying almost immediately. He disappears into the other room, the one that Seunghyun hasn’t ever seen.
Every night, Minyoung wakes up screaming and one of them (usually Jonghun) end up going into the room. Jonghun walks her around the bedroom, and then he leaves her room to get a bottle with her in his arms, he bounces her on his hip and sometimes he cuddles with her on the couch while she drinks. Seunghyun wishes he were Minyoung, wishes Jonghun would hold him like he holds her, but Seunghyun remains forgotten on the top shelf of the bookshelf, gathering dust.
Until one evening, when Hongki’s playing with Minyoung on the carpet and ends up running into the bookshelf. Seunghyun wobbles on the top and falls the long way to the floor. He falls with a poof of dust. Hongki blinks at him, and then picks him up. His hands are rough as they dust him off and pull on his bow to make sure it’s still stuck to his neck.
“Pa,” Minyoung burbles at him, crawling over to Hongki and wrapping her arms around Seunghyun’s ear. She hugs him close, and Seunghyun feels his heart warm up a little. Her hands are tiny and warm when they pull on his ear. Seunghyun looks up at Hongki, helplessly, hopelessly, expecting him to pull him away from her but hoping he doesn’t. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time.
He smiles, and sits back as Minyoung rolls around on the floor with him.
Jonghun comes home a few hours later and Minyoung’s already in bed. He starts when he sees Seunghyun on the floor with the rest of his daughters toys. “How did he get here?” He asks, picking him up. His hands still feel warm, but his face isn’t a child’s face anymore. He’s regarding Seunghyun with a slightly puzzled look.
“He fell off the bookshelf and Minyoung grabbed him. She seems to like him.”
Jonghun hums in response, and looked back down. He strokes his threadbare ears with his thumbs softly. Seunghyun wants to cry with delight, or would have if he could. He hasn’t been held in years, let alone by Jonghun. He’d believe he was if it were possible for him to dream.
“I have an idea, Seunghyunnie,” Jonghun says and slips into Minyoung’s room, which is dark except for the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. He walks over to the crib and carefully lowers Seunghyun down into it, tucking him in next to his daughter. “There,” he says, pulling back. Her arm wraps instinctively around Seunghyun’s neck, pulling her close. “Keep her safe.” He says, scratching his fuzzy head and turning around.
In the middle of the night, when Minyoung starts to fuss, she wraps her arms around him in surprise, fingers wandering around his face, sitting up and looking at him with a puzzled expression. Her dark hair falls over her face and she squishes his cheeks.
“Bobo,” she giggles, and lowers her face to his nose and kisses him.