Work Text:
What do you do with a loving feeling
If the loving feeling makes you all alone?
What do you do with a loving feeling
If they only love you when you're all alone?
★
Jongseong should have known better than to think hiding amongst broad shoulders and furniture would stop Jaeyun from trying to find him.
He’s leaning against the silver fridge, behind close to thirty people mingling in smaller bubbles, and has been spending his time raking over the chromatic magnets covering both doors, despite knowing every single one. It was Jongseong who had bought Jaeyun the figure from London—a cute ceramic red bus with miniature landmarks inside, some paint chipped away after 4 years.
Not that the colours were vibrant enough to look at in the dark room, with the November sun having begun to set, and only the backgarden lights shining through the kitchen window and open door, illuminating the room.
Metallic streamers hang down from every wall, the lighting warm and gentle around them, helium balloons floating, regular ones monopolised by Riki who keeps rubbing them on Sunoo’s hair, laughing every time the older one freaks out and snatches it to hit a still laughing Riki with it. Large gatherings are always obnoxiously loud.
Jaeyun’s birthday is an especially loved and rowdy day, and usually Jongseong would be smack in the middle of his party, maybe checking on the food, or getting back at Jaeyun for his own birthday cake smashing in April. But Jongseong arrived late, and slid himself against every barrier he could, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible, awkwardly holding onto a plastic cup that covered most of his face to pretend to sip on anytime one of their mutual friends obliviously walked by.
All he’s done for thirty minutes is watch , look down with the rim of plastic between his lips the couple times he heard a Have you seen Jay yet?, and pinch his hand every time he wanted to go over to see what Jaeyun was laughing so hard about, smiles concealed by his pretty, knobbly hand.
He’s held onto the ribbon that he’d tied Jaeyun’s gift bag with, letting it turn his index finger numb, keeping it safe dangling near his leg. If the room wasn’t so full, and people weren’t already tipsy and giggling when they stumbled, he’d have set it on the floor already to give his hand a break.
After a while of subconscious ruminating, the clattering of cutlery and sound of Jaeyun’s older brother rapidly hitting the large wooden table filled with plates of food and confectionery gathers Jongseong’s, and everyone else's, attention.
He quickly realises they’re getting ready to sing happy birthday, and everyone around him starts clapping in a clumsy offbeat melody. Jaeyun’s smile is wide and giddy in the middle of it all. He can’t see details from so far behind the crowd, everything sort of pixelated from where he’s stood—but Jongseong knows his face is a peachy red, shy under all the attention, though so happy to hear so much love come his way.
Maybe it was weird not singing along, but one person in a crowd of nearly a hundred not joining in can’t have been too obvious. Or maybe it was. Jongseong always sticks out like a sore thumb even when he doesn’t want to. He’d come wearing a plain black polo—after two hours of trying every combination of outfit he had, styling his hair, wiping off and reapplying a lip tint over and over until he’d rubbed his lips raw from all the harsh wiping, leaving it the same bruised red as the product was in the first place.
When Jaeyun is in proximity, he always wants to be something special, but to look effortless. Wants Jaeyun to look and never stop. He hates that he cares so destructively for Jaeyun’s attention, how it leaves him hollow when he doesn’t get it, how it only makes him hungrier for more when he does. It never ends—this silk of longing that interweaves with a coarse unbreakable strand of loneliness. Jaeyun’s the only one to satiate both, to ease him when they tighten.
But ever since Jongseong had decided what had to be done about them—the prospect of Jaeyun’s knowing eyes on him only curled his insides, leaving him with swollen lumps of anxiety to carry.
Which is what happens when Jaeyun’s eyes catch his from across the room, wide smile softening at the corners when Jongseong is too slow to take cover. His stomach feels queasy, and Jaeyun is glowing in the center, angelic and sweet with his curled bangs and thick rimmed glasses.
Jaeyun sets his paper plate down the moment everyone’s cheery, half-tipsy, chorused singing of happy birthday ends, only letting his mother shove one large forkful of frosting into his mouth, leaving his birthday cake on the dining table, the smoke from blown out 19 candles fading away.
Jaeyun keeps their eyes in orbit of each other the whole time, sifting through the crowd with quick thank you’s Jongseong can read from his plush lips whenever someone claps his back or pulls him into a side hug. Jongseong’s toes curl in their socks, and he can’t stop knocking the gift bag against his leg. He’s so anxious the only thing stopping him from exploding is the chill surface of the fridge against his overwhelmingly hot skin, and Jaeyun’s disarming face. No matter what Jongseong feels, he knows he can only recognise comfort within Jaeyun’s eyes.
Which is why, even with the nausea swirling in his gut, and the weak attempts he’d been making to stay undetected, when Jaeyun nods his head discreetly in the direction of the staircase, Jongseong quickly walks up the steps, feeling bits of metallic confetti stick to his cotton socks.
Upstairs is much quieter. Two speakers are downstairs playing music, and up here most of it fades away under the chatter layered over. Not even the hallway light is on, because nobody is around, so Jongseong rushes to the nearest door, slipping into the bathroom and leaving it unlocked.
Once the door clicks closed, everything outside of the bathroom muffles, and Jongseong sighs as he pulls down the light cord. Biting his lip, he sits on the edge of the bathtub, setting the gift bag on the marble floor, waiting for Jaeyun to get to him. He’ll probably be stopped for conversations and continuous cheers—everyone adores him, always have—so it may be a while. Unable to sit too long, Jongseong paces back and forth, whispering his rehearsed lines until the worlds jumble into nonsense, almost like they mean nothing to him, and all that’s left is a mound of uncertainty weighing him down.
Checking in the mirror, Jongseong concludes he looks… fine. His face isn’t puffy, nor does his stomach look bloated in the tight polo. No noticeable eye bags, no deep frown lines, no gaping wounds. It’s not great but it works. How he feels inside is safely tucked in, and none of it comes out physically in any way except the trembling in his chest. He turns the faucet on, cupping cold water to scrub his face, trying to shock himself into an act of normalcy.
As he twists the tap off, the door croaks opens behind him, and Jaeyun’s steady frame immediately wraps around Jongseong’s hunched body, hugging him tight with his soft face set against his back. Jaeyun’s warmth coats him like condensation on glass. He’s scared to move and have it fade away.
Jongseong darts his eyes to the mirror before them, staring at Jaeyun’s side profile, how he rubs his face against his shirt, thick nose prominent. He’s like a small dog, seeking warmth and a familiar scent. (Jongseong must be one too—always searching, always giving in to a soft touch.)
Mouth smushed against him, Jaeyun’s first words fall out in a happy, mumbled breath.
“You smell good, Jay-yah. Missed you.”
He swallows harshly, still gripping the faucet, letting the metal dig into his palm, and relaxes his tense shoulders. Jaeyun always says his name like they’re in a dream, with a carefree excitement underlining it. It’s so strange how they both shift into different creatures behind doors, how all of Jongseong’s steady calculations crumble at once, unable to manage the simplest acts of breathing and talking under Jaeyun’s full attention.
Jongseong both adores and resents how lovely Jaeyun is. Alone, everything feels like a fairytale—how he easily cups his jaw when they kiss, prominent veins and short nails catching Jongseong’s greedy eyes, how he twists their limbs together in warm embraces, the way in which Jongseong’s name is formed in Jaeyun’s mouth. How hearing it sets off a firework of false hope in him every time.
But when the door opens and they return back to the crowd of family and friends and watching eyes, Jay-yah will be just Jay again, and their once entangled bodies will be forced on opposite sides, fingers slowly retracing their steps, like magnets that can never touch. Where saying I missed you is taboo. Where honest eyes are not welcome.
Jongseong is so tired of living a dream that is promised to always shatter come morning.
A squeeze around his waist. Jaeyun is still here, magically sweet as every dream is before you awake. Jongseong doesn’t want to crush it first, but every bud in his tongue sours the longer he keeps his lips tight, desperate words he doesn’t believe in pushing themselves out of his mouth.
I don’t think we should do this anymore.
I don’t think we should do this anymore.
I don't think we should do this anymore.
Instead, he brings a wet hand to cover Jaeyun’s right wrist, the corner of his lips quirking up when the birthday boy makes a grimacing sound of discontent. A true puppy. Jaeyun’s mouth opens slightly, a nervous shadow across his face as he gets ready to talk.
“I got you something,” Jongseong interrupts softly, turning around as Jaeyun’s hold loosens. His eyes sparkle, like the confetti downstairs were right here in his beady pupils. Jaeyun grins, closing his mouth and the door of confrontation for now. Jongseong swallows his words down, willing them away for just another moment.
Jaeyun giggles in a way Jongseong has come to understand as a precursor for a stupid joke, proven right when he feels a nip at his ear lobe, his usual hoop omitted, and Jaeyun’s light voice saying,
“You’re not the gift then?”
Jongseong rolls his eyes, shoulders coming up to hide the red flush on his face. Fluorescent bathroom lights are harsh and revealing, nothing like the privacy of the downstairs darkness. Jaeyun pokes his pinkening cheek, leaning against the sink when Jongseong moves to pick the gift bag up, and shove it in his hands without looking at him.
Jaeyun laughs like he finds the rushed bashfulness cute, but unties the ribbon to peek into the gift bag instead of voicing it out. Jongseong awkwardly stands there, rolling on his heels and letting the buzz of the lightbulb fill in the gaps between tissue paper rustling and their breathing. The faint sound of music downstairs barely makes it through.
As Jaeyun rummages through the bag, Jongseong takes the time to properly scan over him for the first time in weeks. The black curls that brush against his face are more defined up here, a small bit of frizz noticeable at the top of his head. His white shirt is unbuttoned, showing off the tan on his chest and neck from his fortnight in Australia, and highlighting the golden chain he always clasps on for special occasions. Somehow his fingers remained pale and bony, pink knuckles bent around the tissue wrapped perfume bottle Jongseong bought him. Jaeyun is as beautiful as ever, with brilliant brown eyes and a soft cupid's bow.
Jongseong already prepares himself to mourn the sight, wishes he could press his own face to where Jaeyun’s heart beats.
Jongseong watches his face light up as he unwraps the small present, he’s always been weirdly obsessed with Jaeyun’s eyebrows and their airbrushed look, but especially how they lift up to match every expression that his animated face contorts into.
“No way!” Jaeyun excitedly gasps, looking up at Jongseong and back down at the unwrapped perfume—one he’d mentioned he wanted in passing a couple months ago, pouting at the foot of Jongseong’s bed that it would take him a long time to save up for. “When did you get it?” He quizzes giddily, already uncapping the 50ml bottle, spritzing it against his unsleeved wrist and bringing it to his nose to smell. His smile is blinding when he says thank you.
Jongseong nods with a fidgety smile, accidentally leaving the question unanswered in his anxious hurry. He clears his throat as he points back to the bag, “There’s something else, uhm, not that crazy or anything but I.. Yeah I hope you like it.”
Jaeyun tilts his head to the side, a wispy strand of hair falling against his cheek, before he reaches in again to find a small mesh bag, filled with a trio of familiar flower shaped pins.
Jongseong didn’t think his smile could widen anymore, nor could a person’s face rival the brightness of bold white light, and yet, Jaeyun’s does. A hand reaches out, grabbing Jongseong and pulling him closer, until they’re hugging again, front to front in a rare act by Jaeyun, who always latches on to his side or back. Jongseong feels his swirling anxiety settle down, making room for a pleased and relaxed stream of contentment at Jaeyun’s rush of thank you’s and palpable excitement. He shudders when Jaeyun’s thick lips, slightly wet from where he must’ve licked them, graze over a sensitive spot on his neck as Jaeyun shakes his head about, moving at the same speed he talks.
“I’m gonna put the blue one on my cap, it’s so pretty. Thank you! I can’t believe you got me all three, you didn’t have to Jay-yah.”
Something about hearing his name coated in Jaeyun’s earnest voice again, as he’s being held by his arms and can hear his heartbeat against his own—it culminates into a new overpowering torrent of anxiety that washes away all else.
Not knowing how to cope with these undesired, mixed feelings, Jongseong lets Jaeyun push him around against the sink once more, the pads of his fingers pressing into his hips. They both face the mirror now, where Jaeyun stares into his reflected eyes, and Jongseong blinks back. He thinks about how rare it is for Jaeyun to make eye contact with him any other time. Not here though, not where they are concealed by porcelain and tiles, locked in a bubble as fragile as their relationship has begun to feel for Jongseong.
Massaging Jongseong’s nape with his cold, soft hands, Jaeyun whispers thank you again, before pressing his front closer, eyes roaming down to Jongseong’s exposed neck. He slowly leans down to kiss at the necklines, quietly nudging Jongseong’s head to the side when he doesn’t expose more of it for easier access as always. It feels good, the cold strands of saliva dragging from Jaeyun’s pink lips to his skin and back again, and Jongseong has to grip the sink when the pleasure begins seeping deep into his bones, turning his marrow into a brazen element begging for more of Jaeyun’s touch. He feels the soft graze of Jaeyun’s blunt canines, and deep down wishes Jaeyun would suck a little harder, or bite down and leave an impression of his lips over his neck. Mark the skin his.
If his body was less tense, throat open and less coarse and sandy to let him talk, Jongseong would try to get a quip out, ask Jaeyun if he really liked the gifts that much. Instead he’s looking away, unable to handle both the sight and feel of Jaeyun touching and kissing him, curled bangs swaying with each peppered trail. Jongseong bites his split lip to stay quiet.
As he breathes shakily, Jaeyun lets out soft sounds akin to moans, but smaller, almost delicate, as he starts licking and sucking tiny sections of skin. Jongseong can’t help but notice how he lets go and moves to a new patch of skin to drool over and suck, before any can leave lasting marks, no matter how often Jaeyun groans and whines about keeping him pretty and marked where it mattered most. Somehow, even with Jaeyun’s mouth presently on him, he still feels a distance between them.
Jaeyun’s large hands keep kneading his waist, and he blushes and squirms at the sensation paired with Jaeyun’s unbearable whispers of how small he is. Weak to his desires and Jaeyun’s presence, Jongseong finds his head falling back against his shoulder, body loosening underneath Jake’s hot mouth and pressing hands.
Immediately, Jaeyun chases his mouth up the column of his neck, bringing a hand to grip his inner shoulder, and dragging his closed drooly mouth over Jongseong’s adams apple.
Jaeyun doesn’t stop the breathy moan that accompanies his next words, that dunks his heart into a messy concoction of fuzzy happiness and growing despair.
Now swollen lips parted, Jaeyun moves from his tingling neck to his ringless ear, “You’re so pretty, I missed you so much Jay-yah.” He goes to kiss at his chin next, their bodies as close as they can be clothed, like petals between pressing paper. (Trapped and hidden, slowly rotting away.)
Sweat begins to pool at his neck, gross against the material of his rough button up. Jaeyun’s words remind of what he originally came here to do after two weeks of rumination in Jaeyun’s absence—what he’s failed to say, and how pathetic he feels bending so easily underneath his steady hold. Jongseong detaches himself from Jaeyun’s body, hastily manoeuvring away.
“Jay? What’s wrong?”
Jongseong wishes he could yank the light cord down, and slip away without having to see the cogs turn in Jaeyun’s now crestfallen face when he tumbles out a swift Happy birthday , before pushing the handle down to leave.
Jaeyun hurries to the door, stopping him from opening it and leaving him alone, “Wait– Hang on, don’t go yet. Tell me what’s the matter?”
“I.. I said I’d be home ages ago. I need to go.”
Jaeyun looks confused, brows furrowed and lips twisted into a sad pout, a real frown, not one plastered to be cute and demanding like usual.
The lightbulb above him looks like a halo, and it makes Jongseong feel worse about it all. He’s afraid to suggest they stop meeting in private, despite knowing it’s for the best, despite knowing Jaeyun is an angel that everybody loves too much for Jongseong to ruin, because he’s selfish. He doesn’t want Jaeyun to stop kissing him, wishes they could push their mouths together and swap spit and hold hands. There’s no other way to stop giving into these desperate wishes, other than running away.
But Jaeyun doesn’t let him.
Ever so gently, Jaeyun slides between him and the door, eyes wide and pleading, as he brings both palms to Jongseong’s face. His touch burns as much as it soothes. It takes more than he’s got to not lean in.
“You already came late today.” Jaeyun mumbles, sighing when Jongseong guiltily looks away, “Why are you trying to leave already? We don’t have to.. do anything, but I really don’t want you to go. You don’t even need to tell me what’s wrong, but please stay.”
Frustration bubbles up inside Jongseong, irrational but there. How does Jaeyun always approach every hurdle with simple solutions? Why can’t Jongseong brush his feelings off as easily, keeping everything in a tightly screwed jar, never to burst and ruin everything? It’s like Jaeyun doesn’t truly understand him, and that’s never how it's been. Nobody is attuned to Jongseong like Jaeyun, not since they were children.
It all only became murky, uncharted territory when they began holding shy hands under tables, daring to step closer whenever they could, speaking only with their eyes and never putting a name to the kisses they shared in the dark hours of twilight, before shedding out of their intimate skin to push and pull in public like normal friends. That’s not what Jongseong wants anymore, though. It hurts, being pushed away from hugs, having to pretend he doesn’t instinctively search for Jaeyun’s presence in every room, smiling awkwardly when Jaeyun overcompensates in front of other people and pretends close contact is embarrassing.
“I didn’t come here to stay in the first place.” Jongseong says, focusing solely on a patch of dark wood on the door, avoiding Jaeyun’s tracking eyes.
Jaeyun scoffs, but he sounds more disappointed than angry, hands still cupping Jongseong’s tense jaw. Neither look ready to move them away.
“Really? When we haven’t seen each other in two weeks? After you barely called or replied to me while I was gone?”
Jongseong winces at the call out. Jaeyun had been willing to let it go earlier, to silently accept forgoing an explanation as long as Jongseong was with him now. Jongseong knows this confrontation is the pathway towards his original plan, that he can explain exactly, I didn’t reply, I couldn’t, because all I had to say to you was we shouldn’t do this anymore and it was a mistake and I can’t keep pretending it’s fine, but of course seeing you in person messed it all up and all I want to do is let you hold me and it makes me feel terrible.
He doesn’t say a word of his inner ramble, which begins to expand and heat up and squeeze its way out of his aching chest. Jongseong doesn’t know how to exist beside his best friend as just that anymore, not after six months of indulging in Jaeyun’s private smiles and possessive embraces. How can he say he wants to return to that, when even now Jaeyun’s mouth, the slope of his nose, the flush in skin, and pillow soft cheeks is all he can stare at?
The silence is teeming with heavy emotions that suffocate them. Jaeyun’s head falls slightly, the mop of his hair directly in front of Jongseong, who no longer knows what he wants.
Jaeyun’s voice is still. “Didn’t you miss me?”
Jongseong swallows, mouth dry, mind running a thousand miles, retracing the words he’d written out to say, but what comes out instead is not nearly as nice or honest as all his discarded letters had been.
“I can miss you and not want to see you.”
Jaeyun’s head snaps up to stare right at him, eyes appearing wary and tired, taking in what Jongseong had borderline snarked at him. But he’d said it with a tremor and a miserable face that reveals more to Jaeyun than intended. Jaeyun suddenly smiles something small, brushing a thumb over his cheek.
“You came anyway.”
Jongseong tenses, half heartedly shoving Jaeyun’s hands away from his face. “It doesn’t matter. Whether I’m around or not, it doesn’t matter because all we ever do is hide , Jake.”
With that usual problem solver attitude, Jaeyun shakes his head like Jongseong hadn’t just broken everything he wanted to say down until they reached the crux of the problem, and half smiles like he’s confused but relieved.
“Then we don’t need to? Jay-yah come on.”
Jongseong stares at him like he’s just been smacked in the face.
As far as Jongseong remembered, and his memory was sharp, it was Jaeyun six months ago who shut down the first tentative steps he’d made towards solidifying what they had. Clearly, because he knew neither of them were ready for the scrutiny of their families to follow them around. So Jongseong stopped trying to put a name to their rendezvous, took every subtle knee knocking at lunch, smiled through every secret makeout in random places, and tried to tell himself it was all enough. As long as he had Jaeyun, as long as they were something , somewhere, he could sneak about. Smile through it and convince himself it was fun . A thrill. But every swift lock of lips only made him want more.
Jongseong can admit his faults, and he knows one of those is how hungry he gets. Every morsel Jaeyun offered him only showed how he was the best Jongseong could ever have—and it made him greedy for his attention. Nothing is ever enough in the dark. He wants there to be no doubt they’re each other's. Wants the Sun to know. Every tree, every eye—anything that could reassure Jongseong what they had was worth the risk. And he doesn’t want much out of it. Only to be loved and to be held by Jaeyun in plain sight; not amongst webs and shadows.
Despite the hollow pit in his stomach, where he has felt starved far too long, Jongseong’s greed is not bigger than his affection for Jaeyun. For that reason alone, he has never wanted to push Jaeyun out of the closet with him, and understood his reservations and the fears that stitched his lips together. But now, Jaeyun has flipped him over, made the mental sacrifice of his patience seem ridiculous, because of how easily Jaeyun has proposed the one solution he needed.
“Are you serious? I— Fuck. Are you serious?” Jongseong asks sharply, pointing a finger at Jaeyun’s frozen frame, “I asked you, ages ago, how you felt about us telling at least hyung. Maybe the others, no one else, just them at least, and you didn’t want to. And I understood, you know I did, but you can’t just act like I’m crazy for hating it, or act like it’s so obvious that we can suddenly not hide! ”
Jaeyun blinks at him, mouth opening and closing before the words he was trying to stay defeat him, and leave him quiet. Jongseong steps back, turning away from Jaeyun to press his palms to his face, feeling the heat from his shuddering breath.
The barely lit fire already dies down in Jongseong, who scratches the back of his neck in an attempt to stay grounded. He can see Jaeyun’s reflection in the mirror. His hunched shoulders and fluffed up hair.
Jongseong looks down at the floor as he speaks, “You can’t even.. touch me, when other people are around. And I understand why. But you have to understand that it hurts me, and it makes me feel so miserable and alone and like I don’t matter.” Jongseong barely makes it through his words, trailing off into a tired mumble, looking up at the mirror where Jaeyun stares back with regret. “I can’t live like that anymore Jake.”
Water drips from the tap, and Jongseong hears the door to the next room open, followed by Sunoo and Riki’s familiar laughter. It feels like a cue to leave. He’s said his piece.
Jaeyun, as insistent and strangely stubborn as he gets with Jongseong, once again steps closer to him. He grips his shoulders to get his attention, hurriedly speaking, like there's a timer telling him he’s running out of time for them.
“I’m sorry Jay-yah, just explain to me what I can do to fix this. I’ll make it right, I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to be. I promise. If you don’t want to hide anymore, then we don’t have to.”
The claims he knows Jaeyun can’t commit to are too much. Jongseong’s eyes start to sting, ready to walk out once more, not knowing how to verbalise all his colliding fears and consideration and love.
Jaeyun’s face falls. He steps closer into his vicinity, until Jongseong can no longer see anything but Jaeyun.
“You don’t believe me.”
Jongseong sighs, exhausted, as he rubs his eyes a little too rough, “I didn’t say that,”
“But you don’t.” Jaeyun says with acceptance, and Jongseong doesn’t deny it again. Instead, Jaeyun gathers him into his arms, though Jongseong’s own stay limp at his side. Jaeyun’s voice is feathery as he practically pleads into Jongseong’s stiff frame. “What can I say that’ll make you believe me? Because I don’t want to hide either, Jay-yah. I really really don’t.”
Jongseong believes that, at least. Which is what makes his loosening tear ducts fall apart all at once, face crumpling as unwanted, humiliating tears begin pooling in his eyes.
“What’s the point? ” Jongseong whispers through a sniffle, letting Jaeyun hold him closer, hiding his face in his chest, the metal of his necklace cold like the fridge from earlier. It reminds Jongseong that staying quiet and apart hasn’t done anything good for either of them.
“Because—”
Jongseong lifts his head up, letting the tears fall regardless of how embarrassed he is about crying so pitifully. His voice cracks as Jaeyun immediately wipes at his face, eyes beginning to burn red as well. “Neither of us are ever going to be brave enough to be like this outside cramped rooms or to stop lying to everyone.”
He tries to sober up and sound stern as he reaches the terminal point of this whole conversation. “We should just end it here.” Still—it comes out tenuous, and uncommitted.
Jaeyun tugs at his bottom lip painfully, seemingly in thought as he steps back, leaning against the door, keeping Jongseong near. Tired of fighting his wants and wrestling with his constant conflicting emotions, Jongseong stays there, savouring Jaeyun’s clasp. He readies himself for it to be their last close touch for a long time, attempts to visualise a life where he is forever sidelined as Jaeyun’s best friend and has to watch him settle down with a partner easier to have around. What hurts is knowing he wouldn’t be able to express the inevitable pain that came with that to anyone else, because he’d never betray Jaeyun. And he knows the same is true for the other.
After a minute, Jaeyun breathes out heavily, and it feels like an empty ending. But as if he knew that’s how Jongseong would interpret it, he grabs hold of his listless upper arms and directs Jongseong to sit on the edge of the frigid bathtub.
He weakly protests, still wiping his lingering tears away with the heel of his hands, “Jake, stop, I’m sorry, just go back to your party, we can forget about it.”
Jaeyun ignores his faint argument, dragging over the wooden stool next to the sink to sit in front of Jongseong, only an inch below being eye to eye. Jongseong looks down as both his hands are pulled together, clasped between Jaeyun’s long, sturdy hands, wide silver rings adorning them. Jongseong had forgotten to put his own ones on earlier.
Jaeyun’s gaze is set on their hands as well, the buzz of the bathroom light all that accompanies their tentative breathing. His eyebrows furrow and shift, bottom jelly pink lip bitten in thought. Jongseong doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps his back rigid in place, ignoring the ache of the bathtub’s edge as it prods into his thighs.
Finally, terrifyingly, Jaeyun nods once before lifting his head up to look at him. Jongseong hates not knowing where a conversation is headed, or what will become of a situation as important as this is to him. He wants to fast forward a year and find out then, not live through it. He wonders if he’s going crazy.
Jaeyun begins in a half whisper, accent thick with a nervous hitch suddenly, “I can’t read your mind,” Jongseong’s nose flares in defence at this, but Jaeyun quickly shakes his head, “But that doesn’t mean I should’ve assumed that this was fine with you.”
Jongseong settles down. He doesn’t need to be so on guard here. He’s just a mess of frustration and fear, most of which comes more from the worry that Jaeyun and him are growing too far apart, parallel lines cursed to watch over each other, and never to meet at the same place again. Jaeyun can’t read his mind, but he at least does want to understand Jongseong’s feelings.
“I’m sorry, Jay-yah, I should have realised, and thought about everything properly. But I know now, that you hate this arrangement just as much as I do.” He shakes his head, as his honest ramblings continue, “Probably, like, more than I did because I didn’t even want to think about it before, if I’m for real.” Jaeyun smiles regretfully, pursed and in thought. “Like, I just knew I wanted to be with you, and I didn’t wanna have to think about what came with that. That’s why I didn’t even want us to tell Heeseung hyung, because he’s always been around for us, and I didn’t know if I could handle anything changing with him. Or anyone else. But that’s not fair , and you’re right, it’s not honest. Especially to you.”
Jaeyun squeezes his hands, and it’s the softest touch they’ve ever shared. “If we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it properly. Because you deserve that, and I know I do too.”
Maybe Jongseong has been too wrapped up in the sticky, oppressive wasteland that makes up his overthinking mind, to realise Jaeyun is just as much of a worrier. The only difference being Jaeyun could push them down easier, compress them from a tin can to a sheet of metal, all while Jongseong is stuck being far too aware of everything he and those around him feels, but unsure how to handle it.
He feels like he has to say something here, truly unearth all that he feels so Jaeyun genuinely understands what he’s struggled with for the majority of the year, and as a way of excusing his earlier words, that he now regrets. It was Jaeyun’s birthday after all, and he hates that he’s ruining it. Honesty satiates Jaeyun as much as it scares him, so Jongseong decides to be as frank and true to himself as possible, even if his rawest feelings might be too dramatic, too fantastical to be taken seriously.
“I want it all with you Jake. I think I always have. Even when you’re not around, I want it to be obvious that..” Jaeyun's eyes are big when he finds them again, like he’s truly seeing him. “That I don’t trust anyone more than you, or want anyone.. that you’re my person. ” The words are hard to deliver in the way they were formed in his head, something about the setting of the room diluting just how serious they are to him. He doesn’t want their usual routine evasion to deep feelings. Doesn’t want to let it be followed by a suffix of laughter, because that’d be easier for Jaeyun and him than for them to take their feelings to heart.
But Jaeyun just presses his lips together like he’s holding back a sad pout, eyes a little glassy, like the words hit him hard enough that even his default reactions to dodge and poke fun at Jongseong’s sincerity takes a step back. He gets up from the stool and leans next to Jongseong instead, keeping their hands intertwined, arms and shoulders pressed firmly together now in addition as well.
Jongseong is sort of desperate when he continues, “That’s why it hurt me so much. Why it feels easier to just not be together at all. I hate hiding and lying to everyone. It makes me feel like we’re doing something wrong.” He feebly says, eyes pinched with stress.
Jaeyun once again wraps his midriff in a tight hug, head knocked into the side of his arm. Jongseong deflates into his hold, fiddling with his now empty hand hands, when he’s squeezed nice and soft, like an apology and a promise of understanding all at once.
He sighs, rubbing a thumb in soothing circles against Jongseong’s side, “Yeah I know what you mean. When you weren’t talking to me all week, I couldn’t even explain to everyone why it sucked so much.”
Jongseong frowns at his words, chest aching in regret, but he lets Jaeyun continue, instead of apologising for something he may very well do again if it came down to it. God. He feels like an idiot.
“Like, eomma was annoyed I wasn’t joining in on stuff or whatever, and kept telling me it was only two weeks. And yeah we were gonna see everyone when we came back, but it’s not the same when it’s you. And I wanted to tell her that, but..”
Their reality takes the stage again. It’s a unique kind of misery they share.
“Do you think our families will actually be, uhm, you know.” Angry. Disgusted. Ashamed. “Upset?”
Jaeyun shrugs, but holds him tighter, “I don’t know. But I also don’t really care anymore.”
Jay scoffs, scratching his thumb harshly as the nerves settle in again, thinking about the consequences waiting for them outside this room.
“You can’t not care.”
He wants to trust Jaeyun’s words, but he’s unable to scrape off the guilt stuck to his head, hating the idea of Jaeyun going along with anything for the sake of Jongseong’s stupid feelings. Going cold turkey would have hurt him greatly, but the idea of Jaeyun suffering the consequences of their relationship may actually kill him. Jaeyun loves his family, and Jongseong loves his. What would they do if they took the plunge and then never work out in the end? It stings to even imagine.
Breaking him out of his millionth mental spiral. Jaeyun grips Jongseong’s chin, turning his head to make him look straight at him as he rapidly speaks.
“Jay-yah, I’m serious. I don’t wanna ruin this because of everyone else’s bullshit. We aren’t doing anything wrong, and if anyone’s gonna have a problem with it, then let them, but I can’t just keep going like this knowing it hurts you and me, and I definitely don’t want you to leave. So if,” He takes a deep breath, “ Coming out, and, telling everyone, is gonna make it better, then I want to do it.” Jaeyun holds Jongseong’s face tenderly between his hands, leaning in to rub his nose against his cheek then kiss the trembling corner of his mouth, all loving and soft, before firmly whispering, “Because you’re my person too.”
Jongseong feels like he’ll explode. The words act like a soothing balm to all his mental burns, the uncertainty and anxiety of their relationship coming to a cool stop. He’s so happy and so relieved. He holds Jaeyun’s wrists tightly, “I just want you to be sure, Jake. I don’t want to pressure you into this.”
Jaeyun shakes his head, swiftly kissing his mouth properly, and then twisting his head to kiss right over Jongseong’s heart shaped birth mark, like a seal to an oath. “You’re not. I want it, I promise you.”
Jongseong nods. He feels like they’ve said enough, tongue dry and tired from unearthing his every emotion.
Tilting his head up, he kisses Jaeyun back, closing his eyes as Jaeyun’s warm hands pull his face closer. Jaeyun’s thicker, plump lips envelope his own, making him chase further into the other's mouth, and quietly whine into it. Their kiss is a bit wet and overly soft, Jaeyun’s tongue teasing between his lips but never poking through, like just the shallow movement of their lips was enough for them to feel connected.
Jongseong thinks he can taste some of that cake frosting from earlier, a sweet lemony cream that causes Jongseong to curl his tongue into Jaeyun’s hot mouth, kiss growing frantic as they press closer and closer. Jaeyun’s hands never leave his face, so he grips onto the back of his neck to balance them properly.
Jaeyun’s enthusiasm is what cuts their kissing short, as he dives his head too hard into Jongseong’s slick mouth, and pushes him into the freezing bathtub. Jongseong groans as his head hits the wall, arms barely moving in time to catch the bath handle, wincing in pain as the back of his head throbs painfully.
“Oh shit, fuck–”
Jaeyun quickly pulls him up, from where he is stood safe, leant over, having evaded the fall. Jongseong senses a held back chuckle in his voice, even as Jaeyun rubs the part of his head he’d hit with a quiet, annoying, coo, like you’d do to a toddler.
“Don’t fucking laugh.”
Jaeyun covers his mouth, with squinted eyes, and nods. Jongseong shoves him backwards, and Jaeyun finally laughs out loud, reaching his hand out to still try and relieve his bump, unsuccessfully of course as his knees are bent from how stupidly hard he’s laughing.
Instead of evening it out and hitting his head like he deserves, Jongseong delivers his blow by pulling Jaeyun into a proper hug, nuzzling his head into his neck.
“Thank you for wanting to be brave for me.”
Jaeyun’s hands wrap him up in a tender return.
“Thank you for giving me a reason to be.”
It still feels too soon and too fragile to say those big, heavy words to do with love. It wouldn’t feel right to do it here either. So Jongseong decides on the simplest, smiliest alternative he can, slinking their hands together, intertwining them by their sides.
“I did want to see you, by the way. I always do. Happy birthday Jakey.”
★