Work Text:
Their homestay family cuts watermelon for them to eat on the dock. It's almost too cold for it, but Changbin accepts it graciously anyway. Watermelon is a summertime fruit no matter where you are. His Swedish isn't sharp just yet, but he's braver than Jisung, who will only mumble thank you's.
They can travel half a world away, and Changbin will baby him still. It's more than a habit, it became an instinct before he knew what it meant. Changbin was an older brother first, the rest of his identity refusing to form around it until Jisung’s eyes searched for him instead of anyone else.
Jisung’s cheeks are full of fruit, the rind being gnawed on mindlessly. His toes splash in the frigid water beneath the dock. Changbin chews around the flesh of it, and hopes he never has to see their parents again.
.
The opportunity is just for Changbin, originally. It's their mom that encourages Jisung to join. He should be well traveled, she says. Changbin suspects it's an attempt to humble him. Show him the world's bigger than Jisung thinks it is, too big for his dream to take.
They never believed in him, not like Changbin does.
Two weeks of a summer stay somewhere in Europe, near a partnered university to the one he attends in Seoul. The program keeps them together, only because Changbin asks. They are placed in rural Finland, on an island off the coast that's a train ride away from the school that's responsible for them.
The family was excited to have brothers, a guest house on their property that would be too lonely for just one person. Jisung had never left the country before. He's fearful up until the moment they pull into the gravel driveway. Changbin held his hand tight when the plane took off and landed. He held it looser in the car, the family and Changbin meeting in the middle with the limited English both sides had.
Jisung steps out of the car in awe. The ocean weaves through a jagged sea, laps at the small shore just a few short steps from where they parked. There's sand, and a small dock. The wind whips around them, and the summer mosquitoes buzz in the shade.
"Hyung," He turns to face Changbin. "Can you believe this?"
Changbin smiles crookedly, watches as Jisung's perspective shifts right in front of him.
.
The first dinner is smoked salmon and boiled potatoes. Changbin graciously tries a fish spread on toast. He eats the whole piece even though he doesn't like it. He smiles and nods appreciatively, like he's been doing since they touched down in Helsinki.
Jisung's alternating between staring at the table and the kitschy figurines in the kitchen window. He was a little braver tonight, said thank you very much when he got his plate, bowing lightly before he could stop himself. His ears were red when he sat down. Changbin’s kept them in the corner of his eye the entire meal.
The breeze carries through the room, odd June chill making Changbin's skin prickle. It has him hyper-aware, Jisung's knee pressing into his thigh, his legs folded in his chair. There's no bad luck here, so Jisung lets his knee bounce freely. Changbin doesn't try to stop him, knows the combination of awkwardness and anxiety already has him on edge.
They're very nice. Changbin used up what little Swedish he knows a long time ago. When he says he appreciates them for the fifth time, the wife waves him off. She sounds nearly exasperated when she replies, please, no more in English.
Jisung laughs, bursts out of nowhere. He covers his mouth like he can't believe it.
Changbin looks over at his younger brother, his face round despite his age. Changbin watched him grow out of everything else. Jisung agreed to come here, but Changbin can't remember if he was excited. It's a relief to see him laugh.
.
"Hyung?" Jisung speaks up, behind closed doors now. The guest house is one room, pine from floor to ceiling. There's no running water, so two pitchers sit full on the kitchenette counter. The couch converts, it's from Ikea, it'll hold them both tonight and every night after.
They can see the rocky coastline from where they are inside. It's wooded, but the seagulls are looming in their gray way.
The water sparkles in the late evening sun. It won't set for another four hours yet. Changbin has so much time here. He feels spoiled selfish, full and humbled. Jisung sits close by, and Changbin's stomach churns.
"Yeah?" They're nearly two years apart in age. Changbin holds onto those months and days, precious as they are. The responsibility they've held for decades.
"It's so still." Jisung starts. "If I go out there I'll ruin it."
"Do you want to?" Changbin replies.
"Maybe." It's not a maybe. "I wonder what the sand feels like. If it's different from home." His mouth twists, "Well- I mean, obviously it's different from-"
"Let’s go then." Changbin opens the door. He waits for Jisung to go first.
The grass is soft, even. Changbin forgets to put on his shoes. Jisung flings his own off down by the shore. There's no smell here, no salt teasing his tongue or burning in his nose. The wind is strong, but cut through by the trees on the surrounding islands.
With the way the sun sits in the sky, the scene makes Changbin pause. He watches Jisung hum gleefully, feet sandy. Jisung could never ruin anything. He made Changbin's life full the day they met.
The stillness wraps around them regardless. Changbin's surprised that the sand is warm.
.
That night they sleep so long, exhausted from the jetlag, that breakfast becomes lunch the next day. There’s nectarines to eat, and Jisung has three in quick succession. His mouth and chin get shiny with it. He's not much for conversation, again.
Changbin tries to pull him in, for all the good it does. He gets a little annoyed, but it dissipates soon enough. They’ve got time for him to get comfortable, it’s not typical for Jisung to be at ease so quickly. He always defers to Changbin’s presence, anyway. He doesn’t care if it’s a little rude.
Jisung straddles adulthood unconventionally, does everything as contrary as he can, consciously or not. Not that Changbin is by the book at all. He used to think he dressed the stage and cleared the way for Jisung. He was the mold but Jisung was the art.
In his earliest memories, Changbin sees him. He remembers vague playground trips, and birthdays, sharp with details of brotherhood. He remembers the sensation of his hand squeezing Jisung’s smaller one, leading him around on his unsteady legs. There’s nothing clearer than that feeling. There's no time before him that exists. They don't live together now. Changbin bears the weight of each day he doesn't see his brother.
Their stay already feels like a dream. Waking up and seeing Jisung there, in the room, in the bed, stuck Changbin's breath in his throat. It's only now at the table he can breathe again.
A free afternoon stretches in front of them. Jisung ducks his head as he escapes from the main house. Changbin apologizes as he goes after him. It’s bright outside, and there’s no cloud to stop the sun from warming them.
“Can’t you at least say goodbye?” Changbin starts. “I raised you better than that.” He’s halfway to joking. He won’t face his own sincerity.
“I said ‘thank you,’ ” Jisung argues, of course. “So, you can’t fault me.”
“How old are you, really?” Changbin can’t help the way his tone morphs, two decades of experience rushes back to him in an instant. “These people invite us into their home, and you can’t even say–”
“Hyung,” Jisung turns to him, and Changbin can see his face. His small mouth trembles and he’s blinking rapidly, the way he does to keep from crying.
Changbin’s quick to frustration. He jumps the gun, lectures and preaches about morals and character. Expectations matter to him, politeness matters. Jisung knows this, has dealt with Changbin’s rigidness for as long as they’ve been together.
Two years ago, Changbin left home. He started seeing Jisung twice a month instead of every single day. It made him different, aimless. Over time, they called less and less.
How did Changbin go from being Jisung’s world to not even being on his call log?
He told himself he wouldn’t waste this time. He has so few days to reconnect with him. This isn’t how he’d imagined it.
When they met, when their mom brought Jisung home, Changbin understood the most simple, most essential thing about his brother. He wanted to be loved. Every tear he shed, every tantrum he threw, he needed to know that Changbin would love him anyway. That he was safe.
There’s an ice cream cone Jisung ate at the train station, he bought it while they were waiting for their ride. The only reason he did was because of the packaging colors, he didn’t even bother trying to decipher the Finnish description. Headfirst, blind trust. He loved it. He’s been talking about getting another one ever since.
Changbin closes his eyes, rubs at his eyebrow.
“Yah,” Changbin opens up his shoulders, relaxes. “Do you want to ride their bikes to the store? We can go get that ice cream.”
-
The late afternoon sky is no different from the early morning. It throws Changbin off, makes him think it’s much earlier when he asks to go out in the canoe. It’s too late to back out, though, so he goes down to the shore, a bundled Jisung trailing behind him.
It’s colder today, too cold to try for a swim anyway. Jisung’s got socks on under his sandals, whining about getting sand in them as they drag the canoe into the water. At least he’s not getting his feet wet like Changbin is.
“Aish, don’t let the boat drift,” Changbin starts to waddle back up to the guest house, “Hyung needs better shoes.”
Jisung sputters, “W-what if I let it go?” His back is barely straining with the effort of holding the canoe. His socks must have sand in them by now, with the way Jisung’s started to shake them out one at a time.
“Don’t!” Changbin shouts back, sliding the glass door open. He can’t help but laugh. He spends about 2 minutes setting his shoes out to dry before grabbing his other ones. He doesn’t bother looking up, which is a foolish mistake.
Changbin comes back out the door, swatting away a few mosquitos. His eyes find the water again, and the canoe, too, listlessly floating in the small harbor.
He turns and sees Jisung scrambling on the little beach, pacing. He meets Changbin’s gaze and yells, “I let it go!”
He has to take a deep breath. His chest squeezes around his exasperation. It’s still so filled with love, barely any room for whatever else Changbin feels.
Luckily, he thinks quick enough to run to the dock and grab an oar, hooking it onto the boat’s edge, reaching as far as he can. He has Jisung gripping his other hand, telling him to pull him back in case he gets off balance. They lean back in unison, and the boat bumps into the dock as they collapse onto each other.
Jisung’s laughing. It erupts from him, shaking under Changbin’s weight. Changbin looks over his shoulder to see his face. Jisung’s mouth is stretched over his teeth, small and neat, lips a loose heart-shape. His laughter is high and bounces around them, echoes over the water in their own little world. Changbin thinks he laughs too, but he can’t hear his own voice.
.
Halfway through their stay, Changbin knows he should get started on his assignment for the exchange course. It’s complicated, an essay fulfilling his language requirement, which is why he’s pouring over sources in Swedish.
He told Jisung to go off and do something interesting a while ago, but he’s still here. The guest house has an air conditioning unit, perhaps the only one in the whole of Europe. It hums in the quiet of the room.
The ikea bed has stayed unfolded since the first night, the sheets mussed from never being made. Changbin’s got his laptop in front of him, with his legs stretched out as he leans against a pillow.
It’s been obnoxious to translate, makes even these five hundred words so tedious. Changbin rolls his eyes after reading the same line for the fourth time.
“What’s up?” Jisung puts down his phone. His face is the way it always is, and yet Changbin sees it strangely these days. Jisung’s irises are worryingly deep.
“I don’t wanna do this.” Changbin replies simply.
“So don’t?”
“Aegi-ah,” Changbin sighs, “I can't beg off till I have to finish it on the plane back, like I know you would.”
“You’re wrong, hyung.” Jisung tuts, “I just wouldn’t do it.”
“Ah, that must be why your grades look so good.” Changbin hits his own head lightly.
Jisung flips, reaches over to push his laptop closed. It doesn’t make a sound, but the air is disrupted regardless. Jisung sits back on his feet, knees bent, legs spread open on the blankets. He rubs his hands down his thighs. Changbin has to turn his head to look him in the eye.
His hair’s so long. When did it get so long?
“I feel differently here.” Jisung breaks their eye contact. Changbin would ask how, but he knows that Jisung rarely neglects a thought.
“I feel like nothing matters.” He pinches his mouth. “But, everything matters? Do you know what I mean, hyung?”
Changbin’s a realist. “Not really.” He pauses. “But, I feel different, too.”
“Can I try something?” Jisung raises his head. He breathes, and it’s audible when he sucks it back in through his teeth. “You might hate me.”
Changbin’s ribs creak, his lungs deflate. “I could never hate you. Even if I tried.”
Jisung hums. “Yeah,” He says, “We’ll see.”
For a second, Changbin doesn’t know what’s going to happen. It dawns on him, belatedly, stupidly. Jisung’s already bent his leg over Changbin’s to surround his thighs. He’s looming over him by the time he realizes.
He’s powerless to stop it. He should, but he can’t. He’s watching it happen through a draining hourglass.
“Hyung,” Jisung holds his gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you. Okay?” His perfect cheeks are the perfect pink, and Changbin wishes he could see them up close, from inside his body.
Changbin sees himself nod, throat bobbing. His fingers drum on the bedclothes. Jisung inches closer.
His lips slowly, wetly close around Changbin’s full bottom one. He must snap back into himself, because his skin thrums. An ache emanates from his teeth, molars throbbing when he tries to loosen them. He wants to kiss back. He wants to kiss his brother back.
It’s all Changbin can do to follow Jisung’s mouth when he pulls away. The soft noise of their lips separating digs into Changbin’s eardrums. It’s the last thing he’ll ever hear that matters.
When Changbin’s eyes focus, Jisung’s got his fingers rubbing his own mouth. It hangs open minutely, in what Changbin can only hope is wonder. He doesn’t dare to think otherwise.
“I don’t, uh–” Changbin’s voice is grating, all of a sudden hoarse from the experience. “I don’t hate you.”
Jisung whips his head up like he had forgotten someone else was even here. He doesn’t reply right away, and they stare at each other. He doesn’t know what time it is, and the sun never sets here. It just goes gray.
“Good,” Jisung fumbles, “Good, yeah, um– Good. Hyung.”
“Good.” Changbin says. There are pins and needles in his fingers. He grabs Jisung’s hand, to squeeze it, to feel the dull pressure that’s always beyond the numbness.
.
Midsommar finds them soon enough. The longest day of the year, as if every day here hasn’t felt like a year in itself. By the time they leave Changbin will be exhausted from his lifetimes.
The dinner is overwhelming, but delicious. It’s about as different from a summer spread in Korea as you could get. Jisung’s getting a little bit of everything on his plate, and Changbin can’t help but sit up straighter, full of pride.
Helmi, the wife, spends the meal trying to explain their traditions. She laments that none of her children could make it this year, but that she feels happy she could teach them.
She talks at length about a bouquet. Each midsommar, you’re meant to go out and gather seven different wildflowers, tie them together with a loose stem, and leave them under your pillow to dream of your true love.
It’s definitely more for young people, she tells them, but she still gathers hers each year to dream of her husband.
Changbin’s stomach twists so painfully he can’t take another bite.
Jisung dries dishes after he washes them, their shoulders bumping. It’s later, but the light streams in from the window unknowingly.
“Hyung,” Jisung swats him with a dish towel. “We should go gather the flowers after this. There’s so many along the road.”
“Yeah?” Changbin agrees automatically. It was never a question. He steps further into the deep well between them. “You’ve got someone to dream of?”
“Yeah.” Jisung stops drying a serving tray. “I do.”
Changbin clenches his jaw, pushes his teeth together till his gums protest. His ears burn, feverish. He doesn’t know if he’s jealous or ashamed. Part of him, the obligation, wishes it was jealousy for someone else. He should want Jisung to dream of someone else. The fear of the alternative thrills him, sickly.
“I’m almost done.” Changbin turns the water cold. It’s so smooth, falling through his hands.
Jisung tucks the towel by the oven. “I’ll be outside, hyung.”
Changbin nods.
Jisung smiles at him on the porch. He sits on the bench there, and his feet swing under it, toes brushing the wood. There’s no need to be nervous. It’s the same person. Jisung’s the same boy, with the same scarred knees Changbin used to clean. The same one who would run to him when he waited outside of Jisung’s primary school, who wasn’t embarrassed to wrap his arms around his brother’s neck. Changbin’s still the same, too.
The responsibility he owes to Jisung has never felt so consuming. How does he walk around carrying the weight of Jisung’s trust?
The road, as promised, is lined with wildflowers. It won’t be hard to find what they need. Jisung walks slowly, looking so right as the night descends.
“How many again?” Changbin asks. His pants are brushing the dirt.
“Seven.” Jisung squats in front of a clump of flowers, gingerly removing one and inspecting it.
“Can you grab me one of those?” Changbin’s a few meters behind him.
“Hyung, wh- what? No?” Jisung looks offended. “You’re supposed to get them yourself. It’s tradition. ” He half-teases, knows Changbin’s a stickler for customs in the first place.
“It was worth a shot.”
“Lazy.” Jisung rolls his eyes and walks to another part of the road.
“That’s hilarious coming from you.” Changbin spies a daisy, or what he thinks is one, and picks it. The first one he pulls has no stem at all, so he has to try again.
The road gets quiet, Jisung diligently searching, and Changbin watching him search, picking his own half-heartedly.
There’s mosquitos, and a low hum. If Changbin hadn’t seen it for himself, he would never have believed the ocean was only around a corner. Desperately, out of nowhere, he wants to dive into it. Its chill would absolve him of this feeling. The rocks, the seaweed, they would forgive him. He’s never going to forgive himself.
He looks down at his hands, counts his flowers a few times just to make sure. He needs a pine needle to tie them together. His bouquet fits in his palm. The colors are so vivid, should be improbable to grow so bright on the side of a dirt road. They bloom despite everything.
“Hyung,” Jisung calls, almost at the driveway. “Come on!”
They walk to the edge of the trees, and Jisung picks up two needles. He ties his bouquet deftly, and Changbin can’t seem to figure his out.
Jisung laughs, but it’s not cruel. “Lemme see, Bin. Hold this.” He trades Changbin. Jisung’s midsommar flowers are just like him. The needle holds them together nervously, their vibrant petals and leaves.
“And…” Jisung’s got Changbin’s bouquet balanced on his thigh as he’s trying to tie it. “There.”
Changbin holds Jisung’s up, and they pass each other’s back. Changbin looks at them side by side for a moment. There’s only one flower of difference. Changbin technically got two of the same type, but one was wilting so he didn’t realize. He feels kind of stupid for it now.
Jisung’s smile is infectious, it wipes away Changbin’s brief discomfort. His fingers twitch the way they do when he can’t hold back his happiness. He takes out his phone and makes Changbin hold his bouquet delicately, for a picture of theirs together.
Of course something like this would strike a chord in Jisung, it’s exactly the type of experience that would. His brother is so tender, naive. The harshness of the world, their parents, it hasn’t changed him. He’s so special.
If it wasn’t for this trip, he never would’ve seen Jisung pick flowers in the summertime.
.
They don’t sleep right after. Jisung talks endlessly about nothing at all. The time comes for them to put their flowers beneath their pillows, where they lay next to each other.
Changbin knows who he’ll dream about. True love can be subjective. Jisung in his life is the only truth he’s sure of.
They haven’t talked about the kiss. The in-between is comfortable and torturous. Changbin wants to keep things the way they are, going that way will change them forever. He hates to imagine a future worse than the way things have been. He’ll take twice a month with a few calls. He will. He will.
But–
“Who are you going to dream of, hyung?” Jisung interrupts his thought.
You , Changbin thinks. What other answer could there be?
“I don’t know.” He lies. “I guess I’ll find out who my true love is tonight.”
Jisung looks at him for a long while, Changbin pinned under his stare. Jisung grabs their bouquets off the shelf on the wall and passes Changbin’s over.
“I guess I will too.” Jisung replies. He lifts up the side of his pillow and puts his flowers underneath. Changbin lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Goodnight, hyung.” He leans over, and Changbin watches his eyes close. He presses their cheeks together, and Changbin fights the urge to recoil. It’s obligation that tells him to turn away. His skin sings. His face warms at their connection.
Jisung presses his lips under Changbin’s ear. There’s no air in the room. The thin panel of plywood groans when Jisung lays down to sleep.
Changbin can’t for a while yet.
.
He sleeps fitfully. He gets glimpses, and denies remembering them in the morning. The sunlight is too bright.
Day swells over the rocky harbor, and Changbin can pretend he didn’t dream of Jisung. Of an expanse of his skin, of smoothing his fingertips down Jisung’s neck. He smells like home, unlike the polished pine guesthouse.
The drench of shame worms into him. He wants the forest to hold them, alone here, together. He wants the wind over the water to keep them cool forever.
.
Something’s shifted between them. Their interactions are tainted, invisible at the surface, but Jisung hesitates now. They have so few days left. Changbin’s cuticles have tears in them from being picked at. He doesn’t want to get on the plane like this. He doesn’t want to return Jisung to their mother like this. He won’t get any calls, then.
He slides open the glass door to the guest house two nights before their flight home. Jisung’s spent most of his day in here. Changbin’s seen him through the windows. He’s migrated from the floor to the bed, still has his notebook open, his favorite pen with the chewed up cap rolled halfway down the page.
Jisung held a whole conversation at dinner tonight.
“Hey hyung,” Jisung puts his stuff to the side. Changbin’s known him as long as he’s known himself. He can’t let this go on.
“Aegi-ah,” Changbin approaches, slow. “Can I sit?”
“Do you have to ask?” Jisung frowns.
Changbin sits on the edge of the uncomfortable ikea bed. “Jisung-ah, I- um.” His mouth is stuffed with cotton. “I’m sorry I-”
Jisung hums, puts his hand out for Changbin to take. “Hyung, stop. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Can you trust me?”
“I already do.” Changbin’s breath shudders when he exhales.
“Do you trust me to want?” Jisung moves his things to the ground. “Want things for myself?”
“You deser-” Changbin starts to reply. Jisung pushes Changbin’s shoulder until he lowers himself. He lays back in the messy sheets. Nearly two weeks, and they never bothered to make them.
“That’s not what I asked.” Jisung crawls towards him, and it’s so reminiscent of the other night that Changbin’s spine seizes tight. “Do you think I can want things and understand the consequences? Do you know you don’t have to shoulder it all?”
“Jisung, I-” Changbin blinks, searches for the words.
“I’m your brother. But I can choose on my own, you know?”
“I guess- I mean– of course you can, of course.”
“I– I want you.” Jisung says it plain. Changbin didn’t even let the possibility enter his mind. “I can have you, here. In all the– all the ways I want. So,” he breathes. “Yeah.”
A string snaps, a piece of twine unravels right before his eyes. His throat tickles and he nearly coughs. He’s almost worried he’s going to be sick. The shame makes him nauseous.
Jisung can have what he wants, but it doesn’t mean Changbin isn’t going to think he pushed him into it.
But he’s so, so selfish. Jisung’s skin turns caramel in the evening glow. Behind him, in the window, the water shimmers. When will Changbin have this chance again? He’s been weak for years, going this way unendingly, keeps his brother in his thoughts far too much.
The forest sways around them. The soil doesn’t split. The sky stays clear, like it has been. The earth isn’t ruined from his want. It doesn’t make it right. But it makes it bearable, here, at least. The long days of midsummer can shelter Changbin from the rest of the world, from home, from their parents, oh god .
He’s going to have sex with his brother.
“Okay,” Changbin hears himself say.
Jisung scoots to be between Changbin’s legs. It’s closer than they were before. Jisung plants one hand on the bed and looks down at him. He feels trapped. He feels like he’s flying. Has he always wanted this way? Was this innate? Was he born to love Jisung like this?
Hell will be ready for him regardless.
Jisung grips his own shirt with both hands and twists it over his head. Changbin’s seen this before, the slope of his shoulders, the dip of his collarbones, the cinch of his waist. He drinks it in while he can.
“You can touch, hyung.” Jisung says, half-voiced. “I won’t break.”
Maybe not, but the moment could shatter if Changbin isn’t careful. He reaches, lets his fingertips graze over Jisung’s chest. They trace his shoulders and smooth over his ribs. Changbin’s transparent, his reverence on display in his motions.
Jisung gasps, and Changbin looks at him in the face. His eyes are closed, but his lashes are fluttering. He’s breathing hard, and Changbin’s barely touched him.
It’s just his luck that Jisung looks perfect here. The midnight sunlight casts his silhouette, bleary. He’s a mirage that Changbin dreamed up. He’s conjured from a tender-tied bouquet, the pine needle knowing before Changbin could. He’s beautiful.
Changbin aches for himself three days from now. He will be staring out his own windows and doubting this even happened.
“Come lay down, aegi-ah.” Changbin struggles to speak, tears clogging his throat. He sits up, says his words into Jisung’s collar. His mouth skims Jisung’s warm skin. “Let your hyung take care of you, yeah?”
“Please,” Jisung says, only a whisper. “Hyung, please, I-”
They stay like that, for a minute, breathing in the still air, fresher than any back home. The green lives in every corner here, leaves whistling in the ocean wind. Changbin can open his eyes and see it all through the glass. A world so separate, just for them. Changbin will lay here forever to see the sky, pine box guesthouse grave.
Changbin holds him in his arms, twists until Jisung’s under him. He puts him down, gently.
Jisung's eyes are wide, shiny. His irises are so dark, the water and shore are reflected in them. Maybe Changbin’s imagining it. The harbor wobbles with Jisung’s unshed tears.
Changbin rests his forehead on Jisung’s, his eyelids drifting closed. Jisung’s breath smells like mint ice cream. He clenches his fists, presses his nails into his palms to swallow the moment in his grip. The blankets wrinkle when he lets go.
He tilts his chin, and Jisung meets him. Their mouths tremble, Jisung shuddering in his arms. His whole body shakes, and Changbin shuts his eyes tighter, moving with their kiss in tandem. Changbin’s tethered, he and Jisung make a pair. The connection of their lips gets deeper, but Changbin never loses himself in it. Jisung’s right there. He won’t lose him.
Taking their clothes off was going to happen, but Changbin didn’t think it would be such a struggle. He gets tangled in his own shirt and huffs. Jisung laughs, low. His hands shake too hard to untie Jisung’s sweats. He ends up curling his fingers around the waistband, and pulls them down to reveal nothing underneath. He stops abruptly, looks at Jisung.
“It’s okay, hyung.” Jisung slides his hands over Changbin’s. “I want– I want you to see me.”
Changbin’s not certain he really does. What would he say if Changbin hadn’t made him this way?
He gets close anyway, pulls Jisung’s sweats until he knows they’re off, because Jisung starts kicking them away.
Changbin feels frantic, but holds back unhurried. It’s unlike him to feel out of his depth. The boys he brings back to his Seoul apartment don’t hold a candle to this. The nerves and the shame are overwhelming, but he rejects their cruelty.
It’s enough to kiss his lips, but Changbin wants to feel his pulse, let it thrum where he can sense its tedious beats. He kisses Jisung's jaw, over his neck. Jisung’s hiccuping his inhales, his adam’s apple bobbing. His sensitivity is telling. Changbin’s cock throbs at the noise his brother makes beneath him.
He reaches, touches the crease of Jisung’s thigh until he comes back to himself long enough to nod. Changbin fumbles, almost tries to grip Jisung dry, but he knows better.
Changbin looks around, tries to find something in the small room he could use.
“Hyung, I– I have lube.” Jisung weaves his hand into his bag, right there on the floor. He retrieves, as promised, a small bottle.
“Wh– What did you need this for?” Changbin twists his fingers over the cap.
Jisung grabs Changbin’s free wrist. His arm shakes as he brings Changbin’s hand to the warmest part of him, where Changbin can feel the telltale wetness. His fingertips brush Jisung’s hole and his back bows as he whines. Jisung’s chest is rising and falling, deep breaths long forgotten.
“I did it, uh– myself.” Jisung bows his head. “I was hoping– I hoped. I wanted you to see me through the glass.”
Premeditated. Calculated, shorts Changbin’s circuits, crosses his wires. How did his body look against the sheets? Did he put on a show? Changbin wonders if the whole of him was visible from the shore. He sat on the dock this afternoon and looked out at the other islands, not once turning around. Changbin missed it.
“Jisung-ah,” Changbin licks his lips, speaks low. “Have you done this before?”
His brother writhes, basks in his attention.
“N– not this far.”
The revulsion that rushes up his throat makes Changbin dizzy. It should stop him. He should call it off, he should tuck Jisung into bed and kiss his hair and say goodbye right here.
A cold sweat breaks out at his nape, and he imagines it running down his back. The feverish need that’s submerged him makes him nauseous. Changbin runs his tongue over his teeth, thinks a few thoughts in his fuzzy head about how forgiveness is out of reach, now.
When Jisung realizes how wrong this is, the depth of Changbin’s manipulation, he’ll never speak to him again. What’s the price for Changbin’s desire? Once they’re out of the forest, he’ll know.
“Do, hmm,” Changbin can’t even open his eyes, rubbing his fingers just around where Jisung opened himself up. For Changbin, for his hyung, for the brother that wiped his tears and protected him like there was no better purpose. There wasn’t. Changbin wouldn’t change how he loved his brother, even if it had prevented this. “Do you want hyung to?”
Jisung’s got the most breathy tone to his whines. Untouched, overtired. Changbin wants to be inside him more than anything.
“ Hyung, ” Jisung begs, “please, god, I– I need you.”
Maybe Changbin should have drawn the curtains closed. Jisung can’t stay still. Changbin’s above him, shirtless and cock-straining.
“Okay,” Changbin adjusts, lays on one forearm while the other stays where it’s warm and wet. He’s so close to Jisung now, feeling his labored breaths. He brings his lips to Jisung’s ear. “Okay, baby. It’s okay. You need your hyung, don’t you?”
Jisung nods, frantically, gasps when Changbin breaches him with a finger. Changbin can’t take much time here, with Jisung already loose. His own need is too far gone to open his brother up for any longer than he needs.
He runs his second finger along Jisung’s rim, the trail of matted hair smoothing behind it. “Please,” Jisung keens, “h–hyung, oh .”
Changbin’s fingers aren’t that long, but they’re long enough to drown in the heat of him. He kisses Jisung’s hairline while he stretches his hole. There’s nothing and no one else in the whole world.
“Are you– baby, are you ready?” Changbin’s bicep strains while holding himself up, but he’ll do it till he dies in this bed.
Jisung moans, full and lung-ending. “ P-please, ”
Changbin gingerly pulls his fingers out, tugs his pants down to his thighs, and fists his cock once– twice. He has to stop. His mouth is so dry. He buries his nose in Jisung’s hair while he guides himself to his rim.
Nothing about his smell has changed since they left home. The shampoo he’s always used, the detergent their mom’s been faithful to since forever. The body spray Changbin first bought for him when Jisung was fourteen. It should frighten him. It doesn’t. He kisses under Jisung’s ear and closes his eyes.
The warmth inside his brother welcomes him, surrounds him as he pushes further in.
“You’re doing so good, Jisung-ah.” Changbin whispers. He lets himself rest on his other forearm now, too. There’s no room between them.
Jisung’s gasping, hiccupping like he can’t even string enough thoughts to breathe. His hands are desperate on Changbin’s back, and they skitter around till Jisung folds his fingers together against Changbin’s nape. His thumbs rub at the hinge of Changbin’s jaw.
Changbin’s never realized the differences in their bodies till now. Jisung feels so small under him. Changbin can protect him here, too, like he’s meant to.
Jisung’s breathing has calmed some. Changbin hums, and then pulls back to look at Jisung with a question in his eyes. There’s a flush from his face all the way down his torso, ribs and chest red. It’s almost enough to make Changbin believe he wants this, really.
Jisung nods. Changbin braces his knees against the bed, and curls his hips forward in a measured thrust.
His brother’s chin tilts to the ceiling, and his back comes off the bed. The whines from his mouth are loud enough to be heard outside. Changbin kisses him, seals his own fate.
Their connection is alive, a complete circuit. Beyond the shame, Changbin tastes something on his tongue. He’s closer to Jisung than he’s ever been. Maybe he can find the core of them here. Maybe this is where their love lives.
He keeps fucking his brother, his thrusts alternating between long, languid drags and short, forceful chases of desire. Jisung ends up wrapping his legs, loose, around Changbin’s hips.
Jisung has to break their kiss to pant, to keen. The flimsy bed protests Changbin’s treatment.
“Hyung, hy–hyungie,” Jisung cries, squeezing his eyes shut hard enough to push tears down his cheeks, round and flushed as they are. “I’m– I–”
“You– you can come, aegi-ah.” Changbin’s jaw trembles.
“I– don’t, wanna– hhh, I don’t wanna stop, hyung, please–”
Changbin feels tears threaten his lashes. He blinks to try and will them away.
“I’m right h–here. Hyung’s right here, okay? It’s okay.”
Jisung nods, tightens his hold on Changbin’s nape. The thread of him unspools and he bears down on Changbin’s cock as he comes, striping up between their bodies.
The universe narrows down to the place where they’re connected. Changbin feels everything through loving his brother. His whole life, maybe he was wrong from the start. Maybe. Maybe he wasn’t.
He comes, inside Jisung, coating his slick walls with it. There will never be a time before this feeling, ever again.
.
Their homestay couple drops them off at the train station. They hug, Helmi cries, and they all follow each other on instagram. He and Jisung get on the train, and Changbin leaves a carefully translated comment of thanks on her latest post. It won’t ever be enough.
Twenty minutes into their journey, Jisung slips his hand under Changbin’s where it rests on his lap. When Changbin turns to check on him, Jisung presses their lips together.
The bolt of panic that shoots through Changbin is immediate, arresting, his heart pounds.
“Hyung,” Jisung whispers, “Hyung, it’s okay. No one knows, yeah?” He pauses, kisses Changbin again, in public, in view of the other passengers. “Let’s just be.”
His midsommar dream couldn’t fathom this, the space between realities. The anonymity of travel, outside looking in. Changbin resembles their father, but Jisung is completely different. Jisung looks just like their mom. No one knows. Changbin exhales a shaky breath, and selfishly lets his heart take over.
They go to drop off their baggage at the airport. The man at the desk takes a look at both of their passports, their same family name, and their hands tied together.
“Honeymoon?” He asks in accented English.
Jisung nods. Changbin tries not to react, but his ribs crack in his chest. Jisung rubs his thumb along Changbin’s knuckles, and Changbin lets himself pretend. There’s a time limit on it, anyway. Distantly, he knows he’s playing Jisung. This can never be real, but it is, right here, if only for a few hours.
The plane ride is long. Jisung seeks comfort differently than he did on the way over.
.
Getting off the plane, Jisung keeps brushing their hands together. His shoulders get stiffer through passport control. As they approach the arrivals hall, Jisung keeps threading their pinkies together. Here, at home, it’s not the same. No more Finnish gazes to trace over them without pause.
A few hundred meters before they meet their mom at baggage claim, Jisung tugs on his arm. There’s tears in his eyes. Changbin brings his hands to his brother’s face, and wipes his tears when they spill. It doesn’t do much. Jisung’s lip wobbles, and his breath turns into sobs.
“Hyung, hyung-ah,” He cries, “Changbin-hyung, I can go live with you, yeah?” Changbin’s whole world falls apart on the spotless tile floor. “Please?”
Changbin pulls Jisung to his chest, holds him there and runs his fingers through his brother’s long, long hair. It’s his own choices come to call, it’s Changbin fault for turning him into this vessel of immorality. He did this to Jisung. He made him hurt .
Changbin’s agony nearly makes him unable to speak, hoping that if he holds him steady enough Jisung won’t shake out of his skin. “Jisung-ah. Aegi-ah, you’re twenty. You need to clear your head. Hyung’ll be waiting if you’re sure, or if you change your mind. You need to go with eomma. Okay?” Jisung is clinging to him, trembling. “Okay, Jisung-ah?”
He knows that Jisung knows there’s nothing else to do. How was the ending going to be any different than this?
They walk, and Changbin has to let go of him.
Their mom waves them down, and tuts at Jisung’s miserable state. She gives Changbin a withering look. She hugs Jisung through his tears, murmurs, “You must have missed home, huh? Happy to see your eomma? It’s big out there, isn’t it? No more tears, Jisung-ah. You don’t have to leave anymore.”
Changbin can’t look him in the face again. Nodding towards their mother, he rubs his hand across Jisung’s shoulders. She smiles tightly. Changbin drags his bag near to him, and finds the exit.
His phone rings that night.