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"Sangwoo-ya, are you sure about this?"
"Yes, hyung."
"You're not going to regret it?"
"No."
"Okay." Jaeyoung licks his lips, visibly nervous for (many) first times in his life. He gazes at Sangwoo and says, assuring, "It's going to hurt for a bit. But I promise it gets better."
Sangwoo nods and flutters his eyes close, putting his trust in Jaeyoung.
He feels it, a sting on his skin, a steady burn. One line to the other, connecting the dots, forming a picture- he heats up. His whole body starts to combust. Sangwoo learns the rapid beating of his heart is a normal reaction when he's with someone he likes. The brain releases dopamine, adrenaline, and norepinephrine, thus, heightening the adrenaline rush. Nothing abnormal. Nothing to fuss over.
It's still so new to Sangwoo- Jang Jaeyoung- his complex affection for him, his mind-boggling feelings for the senior. Previously, he would storm out from Jaeyoung's workplace and never speak of this matter again. It's his initial response- to retaliate when necessary- when he's uncomfortable. That's how his system has been working for as long he can remember.
But nowadays, his brain isn't giving him the usual warning, the much-needed head's up. That's strange, Sangwoo thought. No stop signs, no blaring red lights, no system reboot, nothing. Somehow, the Jang Jaeyoung file is already in his mind, and his body now knows how to handle these side effects efficiently, without error.
A lull, a sudden poke of something pointy, deeper into his skin, and it makes him jolt.
"Hyung! Stop! It tickles!" Sangwoo squirms, immediately retracting his hand away from Jaeyoung.
Perplexed, Jaeyoung blinks animatedly. The black marker hangs midair, dangling, waiting, and Jaeyoung freezes like a statue, taken aback.
Guilt gnaws under his skin, tingling his bones. Sangwoo looks up, bites his lower lip out of habit and mutters, "It tickles..."
Jaeyoung breaks into fits of laughter. Like confetti. Bursting with energy, colours, life, and the smile on his face is a reflection of Sangwoo's heart. He is... happy. Delighted to see Jaeyoung's eyes are turning to half-moons, his lips stretch further and broader into a grin. Jaeyoung looks exceptionally breathtaking right now. Sangwoo sets this version of Jaeyoung as default in his brain. Loading. Saved.
"Yah," he starts, eyeing Sangwoo from his face and to his forearm. The ink is still fresh on his skin, and crimson trails the black lines of the Veggie man on his forearm. It looks cool, Sangwoo has to admit. Jaeyoung's really good with his hands.
Jaeyoung takes a step back. The chair abrades the floor, and a loud squeak bleeds into the silent night. He prods his hand on the side of his head, observing Sangwoo like a specimen, an object of interest. His eyes are twinkling with mischief, hints of victory, and Sangwoo is overwhelmed by the intense stare he's receiving. A new problem he needs to figure out the solution once he's safe around the four walls of his flat.
Amused, Jaeyoung utters smugly, "I didn't know you're ticklish."
His lips are dry. And Sangwoo unconsciously licks them, only to stop the nervousness bubbling in the pit of his stomach, hot and dizzying. Jaeyoung's eyes are on him. Always. Attentive, hungry, but he's in control, unlike Sangwoo, who's seconds away from exploding.
"Well, I'm giving you a warning now," Sangwoo sets the border straight for the sake of his crippling sanity. If he abides by Jaeyoung's temptation, he'll be in grave danger. He might not survive to see the sun tomorrow.
He crosses his arms, hoping to exude solemnity and bravery, but whatever he does these days will only make Jaeyoung laugh at him. What's so funny? Sangwoo doesn't know either.
Sangwoo swallows the bile in his throat and makes a mental note to drink water after this. His throat is like the Sahara by now.
Fidgeting in his seat, curling his hands into a ball, Sangwoo acclaims, "I'm ticklish. Don't tickle me like that anymore."
Raising his eyebrows, Jaeyoung mirrors him. He crosses his arms, a challenge. A gentle tsk escapes his lips as he states, "You wanted me to draw on your forearm. How's it my fault, huh? And you didn't tell me beforehand. You're ticklish," Jaeyoung chuckles, highly entertained. His voice is low, calming and soothing, almost like music to Sangwoo's ears. His body heats up again, but Sangwoo doesn't feel like running to the bathroom this time.
"It's your fault," he retorts, pointing at the hidden tattoo on Jaeyoung's bicep, a pattern he created a long time ago. Jaeyoung's the reason. His skill, art, drawing entice Sangwoo to step out of his comfort zone. Jaeyoung's I can get you one too, if you're interested, rings in his head like the morning alarm he sets, exactly on 6.20 am. And it gets annoying like Jang Jaeyoung is, but Sangwoo perhaps has always been weak to temptation- one that stands at above six feet with multiple earrings and assimilates the charm of a devil- is his kryptonite.
Jaeyoung pulls his chair closer, slowly. He opens up the chance for Sangwoo to run or punch him in the face. Anything's plausible now. Jaeyoung doesn't cross the line. He stays awfully close, respects Sangwoo's decision, just the way they agreed. But sometimes, Sangwoo wishes for the other to step on it, and he'll go berserk because Jaeyoung makes him feel, not think. Sangwoo marvels at the sweetness of it, the sinful morsel on his tongue as Jaeyoung's full of surprises, and he starts to enjoy them, bit by bit. At this point, Jaeyoung's not the only crazy one here. Sangwoo is too.
"No, it's not," Jaeyoung whispers. And blood rushes south, to the end of his toes, and Sangwoo curls again, grips onto the handle rest of the chair in desperation, and puzzling want.
Jaeyoung's eyes are on the character sprawled across his skin. There's a proud smile there, looping around his lips, and Sangwoo can't help but smile too.
"As much as I hate it," Sangwoo refers to the ticklish sensation he experienced, not the touch of Jaeyoung's deft fingers on his arm, the tip of the marker on his skin. "You're very talented, hyung."
Jaeyoung beams. And all lights on the street flicker, celebratory. Orange, white, red, every colour this world can emit. Sangwoo sees them right in front of his eyes. And his breath hitches.
"Well, I know that! You don't have to rub it on my face! Handsome, talented, charming- that's me!" he brushes off the compliment Sangwoo gives. Coral resides on his cheeks, and Sangwoo makes another reminder, please add this blush on the character that looks like Jaeyoung. Red. Thank you.
Sangwoo laughs. Louder this time. He doesn't intend to hide it.
Jaeyoung stops his holy self-praises. His eyes appear uncertain, one of those moments where the senior thinks deeply, afraid of making the wrong move. And this only happens when Sangwoo is involved in his decisions, probability, them.
He sees it. Jaeyoung's adam's apple bops, his pupils are dilating, his feet are shaking furiously. He's nervous. Again.
"Sangwoo-ya," he calls. His voice remains confident and precise, contrary to his bodily reaction. He's looking everywhere but on Sangwoo. He's gripping the fabric of his jeans. That's a first. Sangwoo has never seen Jaeyoung so cautious around him before. It's... cute. Eh?
It fascinates Sangwoo how Jaeyoung is two in one, crazy and sane, stupid and intelligent, caring and cruel. He's never black and white. Jang Jaeyoung is a whole spectrum, the rainbow, red when he's happy, and grey when he's sad. So endearing, so loveable, so aggravating. But in a good way. The best way.
"Hm?"
His eyes fall on Sangwoo's lips, long. "This is your one-minute warning," he mumbles, and Sangwoo almost misses it if he's not inching closer by instinct.
Jaeyoung holds his hands. Slowly, carefully, giving Sangwoo time to feel the warmth of his fingers around his wrist, for Sangwoo to settle his advances in his mind, for him to prepare.
"I'm going to kiss you, thirty seconds from now," Jaeyoung states. And they are close, closer, the closest as they reach the ten-second mark.
His fingers trail the temporary tattoo, and Sangwoo thinks it's similar to the touch of butterflies or the pollen falling on his skin in spring. It's almost unnoticed, but Sangwoo feels the hotness everywhere, sees the stars anywhere, knows only Jaeyoung can bring out these odd responses from his body. As if there's a switch inside of Sangwoo, waiting for the right person to turn it on, and it's Jaeyoung.
Sangwoo breathes, their lips only a few distances apart as he says, "Okay."
And Sangwoo crosses the line. He kisses Jaeyoung first. Just because Jaeyoung exceeds the one minute deal, he's three seconds late.
He hears it- the surprised hmph!- coming from Jaeyoung. But Sangwoo's already in the zone. His brain and body are in the confinements of the elder, succumbs to the feel of his existence. The zeal of his lips, the halt of his hand around his wrist, only Jang Jaeyoung and nothing else in his mind right now. No code red whatsoever, just pure bliss of kissing someone he likes.
His heart- flips. His head- buzzes. His skin- tingles. His lips- burns. All wonderful responses, everything fresh and worthwhile. Sangwoo will never forget this.
Jaeyoung sweetly pulls him close, and by then, their bodies flushed, becoming one. A hand supports the back of his neck as Jaeyoung cranes deeper. He draws the air out of his lungs with every swipe of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth.
Sangwoo doesn't think. Heck, he doesn't have the mental capacity to try. But he feels. He lets himself lose, and it's nice- this change. He likes it. It's probable. Jang Jaeyoung brings a fruitful outcome to his mood, no longer dull and hollow. Sangwoo likes it. A lot.
When Jaeyoung steps away, Sangwoo almost chases after him. He figures, don't you want to kiss me more? Because I do-
Jaeyoung exhales a long sigh. His eyes are closed by now. But there's a smile there, loitering still, on his handsome face. Sangwoo savours this moment and feels the monstrous itch to touch him again.
Jaeyoung is faster this time. He leans forward, and their foreheads touch. And there's a spark there, Sangwoo sees them, red. It's beautiful.
When he opens his eyes, laughter spills from his lips, melodious. "You're really something else, Chu Sangwoo," Jaeyoung utters, breathless, downright handsome even without doing much.
Sangwoo doesn't say anything. He angles his head to the right and slots their lips again, over and over. Tooth-rottenly sweet. Sangwoo likes the taste of Jaeyoung's lips. He wants to nip on them all night. If, Jaeyoung allows him.
(Of course, he does.)