My first and last K2 fic. Probably. Disclaimers apply. Yaoi, slight lime-ish warning but nothing extreme. JungKun, if ya must know.


His head hurt.

That was really all that mattered right now. That, Que-Min becoming engaged, his old modeling manager dumping him for the Almighty Kun Kang, and Tae leaving for America.

Life sucks, he supposed.

God, his head hurt. A million battering rams shattering over his skull and exploding into little fireworks. It was funny, in a hard-to-bear sort of way where you just wanted to start laughing when some crap job happened to your life. He couldn't imagine any other guy with her…any other girl with him. It's just too awful, too weird to think about.

The boy, blond hair cascading over dull, ice-block eyes, cuddled himself on the cold window ledge of the apartment, closing his eyes and envisioned everything that happened. All of it appeared in flashes of discolored, faded-twilight-zone feelings, like someone had taken a photo and inverted everything to appear slightly crazy. Yet, it somehow all fit.

So this is how it all works out.

Remorse wormed its way into his chest, feeding off the little bit of warmth he had stored for this moment. The thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders was nowhere enough to staunch the temperature. He was like a radiating ice block, for all it worked out to be. Outside, gentle, fervent pieces of snow had started to drift from the evening, star-dotted sky.

I'll just have to bury these feelings.

Kun had dealt with it. He'd do the same.

Jung Woo Im had somehow, between his sought-after years at Pure Water High and another two of being "discovered" and put into several famous photo-shoots, become a failure at life.

--

"Well, look here, isn't this Jung Woo Im?" the blonde man, his figure sprawled and yet elegant at the same time, smirked at the boy standing across him, "You've become famous, darling."

He stiffened at the cruel remark, and tried to see the humor in it, laughing weakly.

"Haha."

--

Neither of them mentioned that, just two days ago, Jung Woo's manager had abandoned his latest magazine spread and headed right for the offices of Kun Kang, nearly handing over her entire fashion line for the season.

But Jung Woo had felt it, and he doubted Kun hadn't. A different, almost sweet tone in the air, an invisible cord stretched between the two of them, a connection, almost.

And then he'd understood why. By looking into the pretty boy's eyes, he had just known when peering into Kun's hardened, calculating diamond gaze.

--

"You're not over Tae."

It wasn't a question.

Kun sighed, "As you, aren't over Que-Min. You know that she's a happy bride now, don't you? I was invited to her engagement party, but you had somehow missed the guest list…"

--

They had both experienced, he knew, the blows of loss and rejection. From girls that would've once given their lives for them, they had lost to two genuine bad-boys.

Potentially scarring, much.

--

"Help," he whispered, his words almost choking back in embarrassment, "Help me."

"And what would I get in return?" the man replied, his voice even, "you certainly won't giving me any money…I already have too much of it."

He laughed, and Jung Woo cringed.

"I—I'll do anything for you."

"Really?"

"Anything."

--

And then he had become surprised, alarmed almost, because Kun Kang had stood up from his chair, had walked over to him, placed his slender fingers around his shoulder blades, and kissed him.

Jung Woo kissed him back, perhaps because of Kun's iron grip on him, or maybe just out of pure spite. It felt rather odd, kissing a boy, but because it was Kun and Kun sometimes reminded him of a girl that he thought he could try it a little more…

And found himself pinned against the wall, fingers running through Kun's silk hair, and moaning into it a bit more than he'd intended.

--

"Once a failure, always a failure," Kun whispered in his ear.

He said nothing.

--

The door opened, and Kun was home.

The young man, his body a gorgeous melee of honed muscle and soft skin, took off his shirt and slung it over a chair, something that would've caused millions of fangirls to scream across the nation and be carted off to hospitals with severe nosebleeds.

"I'm home. I want a bath."

Wordlessly, Jung Woo got up from his perch by the window, let the thin blanket drape off his shoulders, and padded towards the apartment's bath. He turned the hot water on, twisted the tap until a sizeable gush ran over his hands, squirted in drops of soap, and then set the towels on the side.

He helped Kun out of his pants, then his underwear, all the while kissing the boy. When Kun slipped into the bath, he took to opportunity to shed his own clothes and climb into the slippery tub.

"I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"When you take off your clothes before I do it."

"You torture me when I don't."

"All the more fun. Come here…"

He rubbed soap over Kun's body, watching his fingers glide over all that soft, pale ivory skin, and then leaned forward.

When Kun kissed him, Jung Woo felt his knees go weak, the soap melting over their bodies amidst the hot-running water. He grabbed Kun's shoulder, feeling himself slip down, and Kun tightened his grip on his waist.

He felt Kun's hand starting to wander around, and he gave a timid growl. Kun liked those.

He was Kun Kang's boy toy. Wouldn't expect less.

That was the deal.

One would go to sleep each night, filled with buried feelings of the other's cousin, Tae Yeon Im. The other would lie down in bed, and dream of Que-Min Ghun, the girl who grew out of him, his looks, about to be newly wed to Korea's biggest organized crime-boss, Ghoon Ham Che.

And that was how it went. Two souls, filled with thoughts of someone who they could never get, found each other and satisfied themselves through bitter lust.

'Cause, when all's said and done, pretty boys never get the girls. They end up with other pretty boys.


A/N: I've been reading too much IHC. XDDD.

Review, ne? I meant to post this on my birthday, but was a little delayed...:D.