Seungbo's hopes that perhaps Dongsik hasn't recognized him are dashed by the strong hand that wraps around his wrist and drags him away from the dance floor. Even if apprehension—fear, even—curls in his stomach, Seungbo can think of little but the warmth of Dongsik's skin on his own. The older man keeps looking at him, something in his eyes that Seungbo cannot read. Whether it is anger, disgust or something else entirely, the younger man wouldn't know. Belatedly, he thinks that he should pull away, but does nothing of the sort.
He's dragged into the restroom and despite himself, there's a joke on the tip of his tongue, a nervous response—he swallows it, afraid of what Dongsik might do if Seungbo alludes to the reason he usually finds himself in a club bathroom—he isn't looking to worsen whatever his brother's friend is going to do. Instead Seungbo utters soft apologies to the men he's dragged past, shoved into the stall before Dongsik crowds in after him.
It's small. There isn't really space for two grown men inside. They're so close together, Seungbo can't help but shuffle back until his leg brushes the toilet bowl behind him—and that's gross, so he shifts forward enough to avoid that—it's still not enough space, especially with the way Dongsik looks him over, like he's taking everything in. Every piece of the secret life Seungbo's been leading while his family sleeps and is none the wiser.
"What do you think you're doing dressed like that? Are you even old enough to be here right now?"
Seungbo flinches.
It isn't unexpected, of course, but that doesn't make the words any more pleasant. The younger man drops his gaze, looks down at the hem of his skirt, where it rests innocently across his thighs. He's screwed. Dongsik is going to tell his brother, who's going to tell his father and tomorrow, Seungbo will be in for it and he doesn't even have class as an excuse to put off going home for as long as possible.
He skirts around the question of his manner of dress, because there's nothing he can say to defend himself. Seungbo knows the mentality his family, and Dongsik's, both hold.
"Of course I'm old enough to be here," he mutters instead, daring to raise his gaze back to Dongsik's. That zing of electricity is back, keeping Seungbo from looking away again.
Something emboldens him, and he asks, "Why are /you/ here?"
@aLpHa MaLe dann "... me" Their words overlap, stepping on one another's toes much like everything else about them - somehow always at odds and out of place. Even now, their worlds have collided once more based only on a mistake in a calendar; a wrong step, and a single night out of place. How much more coincidental could their meeting have been?
For as much as Dongsik knows, he has the capacity to ruin tonight just as much as Seungbo could ruin it. One word to the other's parents would be just as deadly as anything Seungbo could say to his own - Especially with the way he's dressed. Seungbo's father and his own were close enough in their little inner circles that he could recite the alpha-male bull rhetoric that he'd been fed as a child. Himself and Seungbo's brother, both, probably could. Unlike the other three, though, Dongsik found nothing wrong with the idea of frills. Or pink, or glitter, or femininity. What was wrong with clothes being soft and feminine?
A lot, but only for those that cared about the world's perception of them.
Dongsik had mostly grown out of it; college abroad had opened his eyes to a great number of things, and right now, it was opening his eyes to the long legs and slim waist of the other male, somewhere in the periphery of his vision. He was still fixed on the eyes that searched his own, and he had to figure out what to do with the draw that was keeping them there. It took only a moment, at the very most, before a hand was reaching out, grabbing Seungbo and guiding him off the dance floor, away from the stage, and back towards the restrooms. It was the only place he could think of where the music might die some, where they could work out what came next.
The entire time, he kept an eye on the slightly shorter male. He was in awe, and his mind was buzzing with the observations he made. The makeup, the immaculate gloss on his lips, his narrow waist, and his long legs - Everything about Seungbo seemed to have been made of the parts he'd imagined in some dream, somehow. It should have been unsettling, but instead felt like a comfort.
Dongsik barged into the restroom, past the line of men waiting, and commandeered the only stall; pushing the younger in first and locking it behind them. Only then did he finally let go of Seungbo, his eyes still roaming the other's face, trying to figure out what this new feeling was. His mind was trying to process so much at once that he couldn't think of what to say, and the most idiotic of phrases was the only thing to come out of his mouth.
"What do you think you're doing dressed like that? Are you even old enough to be here right now?"
@Yang Dongsik ⤿ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: salty - ella vos, tei shi
. . . Seungbo isn't unaccustomed to this scene. The vibrancy of the nightlife, the thrum of bass and flashing lights are his solace, his comfort. The ache from what happens behind closed doors is nothing in comparison to the burning of his muscles after a night out, be it in a crowded club or an empty studio in the late hours; sneaking out makes him feel alive even when the willingness to live should have been, quite literally, stomped out of him by now.
He knows which nights are for dancers, and Seungbo is always sure to show up for them. Even when he himself can't dance, he enjoys to watch others. It's a passion he's never been allowed to properly indulge himself in and beyond the jealousy, Seungbo feels revitalized by watching others far more skilled in the craft. Those who have had the opportunities he hasn't.
He weaves through the crowded floor with the ease of someone who has done it many times, approaching the stage as he watches the performance. For a moment, he's so entranced that he doesn't notice where he's going and he collides with another body.
"It's—"
Seungbo's words die on his lips when he makes eye contact with the man in front of him. Of course he recognizes him; why wouldn't he? He's seen him many times, when Dongsik was friends with his older brother. The panic spikes quickly at the realization. Dongsik knows his /brother/. Dongsik used to be his best friend. Seungbo's brother is an . Anyone who could handle being his friend, let alone best friend, must be an too.
There are constellations of glitter on his cheeks, vibrant colors on his eyelids. The skirt and cropped sweater had felt like a good idea when he snuck out and now Seungbo can practically feel the beating he's going to get for it. The sweetness of his freedom tastes like ashes now.
But there's something else, all of that panic aside. An electricity that makes it impossible for Seungbo to tear his gaze away, even if he should. He should pretend not to recognize Dongsik, run home and hope for the best with whatever the morning may bring.
@aLpHa MaLe dann Dongsik had chosen the wrong night to go to the club - He'd mixed up the schedule somehow and was now kicking himself. It was supposed to be a band night, but they had some sort of special exhibition of dancers going on tonight, and he'd failed to recognize the change in the crowd or atmosphere until he was already inside and had paid his fees.
Resigned to the fact of not hearing a favored band and the spent $20 for his cover charge, he made his way to the bar. It was easy, being as tall as he was, to carve his way through the crowd, weaving in and out of bodies as he ordered a beer and turned to watch the stage. He may as well enjoy his time here, right?
It helped that the dancers were worth the exhibition - He loved to watch people dance, wishing he could move his body in such ways. He was never very graceful, and that was unfortunately only exacerbated by his lanky figure, but that never stopped him from admiring things from afar. He could get much closer tonight, and once that realization hit, he decided to go for it. Dongsik made his way through the crowd and toward the stage, getting as close as he was comfortable with, trying to find an angle that wouldn't totally the people behind him; figuring putting his back to the still-in-use dance floor would be for the best.
He got a few bumps from people who weren't entirely paying attention, but that was worth the space where he didn't feel like his head was blocking someone else's view. Dongsik turned to apologize every time as well. After all, he was the awkward who decided to stand between a dance floor and a stage, offering kind smiles and low murmurs of apology until he happened to look down at a face that seemed too familiar.
"Pardon..." Dongsik started, freezing as soon as the first syllable fell from his lips. This was not who he thought it was, some lost friend from his past, but someone almost far worse: His -up of a little brother, and if the other recognized him at all, he would have a rough night. Words moved fast, more so when you wanted to make your family happy. his night. All he could do was stare, cross his fingers that he wasn't recognized, and pray that this fluttering in his stomach settled when the other looked away.
