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It starts with a toy.
Well, not entirely. It starts when Yunho first meets Seonghwa, in a practice room at the company they’re both new trainees in. His hand is firm in Yunho’s and his eyes sparkle with something bright and wondrous, like he’s excited about everything the world is showing him. He’s got a country accent, his satoori dragging on his words in a way that is undeniably charming, and Yunho laments the loss of it as Seonghwa works over weeks to neutralize his speech into a Seoul accent.
Yunho had wondered, all those years ago, if love felt like curling up under the covers on a cool day, held safely in the cocoon of knowing nothing else in the world could break through. As the group grew, Seonghwa got closer with some of the new members, and when it came to choosing roommates, Yunho let San claim him with a heavy hug, hiding his eyes as Seonghwa had shyly asked Hongjoong to room together. At that point, he’d watched Seonghwa blushing so many times before realizing what he’d been blushing at all this time, and the moment it had clicked felt right and so, so wrong, all at once.
Over the years, Yunho has cradled his love for Seonghwa close to his chest, nurtured it secretly, lying awake in his room, watching his hyung play around with the others, basking in the quiet comfort when Seonghwa comes to nuzzle in close to him as he’s playing video games in the living room.
He’s resigned himself to loving Seonghwa from afar, from protecting him as best he can without telling him anything. The life they live moves swiftly, pushing them through so much so quickly, and Yunho counts himself among the luckiest people in the history of love, for the privilege of being able to watch Seonghwa grow into the man he is. He handles life with grace, power, and kindness, and Yunho is just happy to bear witness to him.
All this to say, this story doesn’t start with a toy, but if Yunho’s telling it, it might as well.
**
“Yunho-ya,” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the noise in his headphones, the sound of gunfire and other sound effects nothing compared to the call of his love. He glances away from the computer screen, and sees Seonghwa shrinking back through the crack in the door he’d peeked through. ‘Sorry’ he mouths, and Yunho can’t help his smile.
“Just gonna finish this round,” he says, and Seonghwa nods, coming into the room a little more. He’s still hiding half of his body with the door, and Yunho can feel his eyes on the screen, on Yunho’s hands as he plays. He knows it’s rude, but he’s been having a really good night, and doesn’t know when he’ll get to play like this for the next little while, what with them going into promotions soon.
He finishes with a decisive win, nodding at himself proudly as the screen displays some of his best plays, and then he turns to Seonghwa again.
“Hyung,” he smiles, helpless to the flutter of his heart when Seonghwa smiles back. He holds a hand out, realizing that it’s a little too intimate just in time, and curling his hand towards himself in a beckoning motion. “Come in.”
“Uhm,” Seonghwa has pink dusting his cheeks, and Yunho’s heart aches, wishing it were for him. He’s still hiding half his body behind the door, doesn’t make any moves to enter the room, and the ache turns sour in Yunho’s chest. “I have something for you. It’s not much, it’s nothing really.”
“Oh,” Yunho’s mind rattles to a halt, eyes widening. He feels bad for doubting Seonghwa for even a moment, and knows the smile that splits his face open is too bright, too big. “You didn’t have to, hyung, that’s so nice.”
He’s trying to trace back over the past days and those to come, but he can’t pin down why Seonghwa would be giving him a gift. It’s nervewracking, but he does as Seonghwa asks, closing his eyes and holding his hands out for the surprise, and something plastic and pointy is placed into his upturned palms in the next moment.
“You can open them,” Seonghwa says, and the small click of the door closing as he slips all the way into the room accompanies Yunho as he opens his eyes. His gaze alights first on Seonghwa, who looks nervous, eyes tracking over Yunho’s face, and then they drop to what Seonghwa has handed him.
It’s a gundam doll, a really pretty one. Probably about six inches tall, the figure is pink and red, with white accents and a big shield. It looks complex, and Yunho turns it over gently in his hands as he looks at it from all angles, awed that Seonghwa is giving him this.
“This looks special,” is what he says first, stupid, but it’s all he can think of. Why would Seonghwa be giving him such a complicated doll, one that is so pretty and would fit so well with the rest of his collection. Lifting his eyes from the figure, he sees that Seonghwa’s cheeks have gone even redder. “It’s so cool, hyung, thank you.”
Biting his bottom lip between his teeth, Seonghwa tries to hide a pleased smile. He shrugs with one shoulder, eyes darting to the floor. “It reminded me of you,” he says, inexplicably, and Yunho’s heart flips over in his chest. “You’re tall and cool but really cute, and you—” reaching out, he runs the tip of his finger down the length of the big shield held in the doll’s grip. “You protect people well. I don’t know. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly at all,” Yunho stands, and Seonghwa’s eyes flit back up to meet his. His hyung is tall, slender and so, so pretty, and Yunho tries not to think too hard about the press of their bodies as he hugs him close to his chest. The doll is held aloft behind Seonghwa’s shoulder, carefully out of the way, and Yunho closes his eyes, basking in the warmth for a moment. “Thank you.”
So, for all intents and purposes, it starts with a toy.
**
After he gives Yunho the gundam doll, Seonghwa half-avoids him for a couple of days. He both stays close and keeps his distance, tucking himself in against Yunho during filmings, behind the scenes of content shoots, but doesn’t talk to him much, will just make a fussy sound if Yunho goes to move away. As the days roll into weeks, though, they settle back into their usual dynamic, and Yunho doesn’t even have the time to wonder what Seonghwa’s behaviour could have been caused by.
They’re in the wind down from the height of promotions, their comeback weeks past by now, and all of them are resting, making plans to go home for a bit of time when Yunho comes to the conclusion that the sort-of-closeness had been a side effect of exhaustion, of the homesickness they all feel when they’re at their most tired.
It’s not entirely out of character for Seonghwa to seek him out, but Yunho still finds it a little odd when he starts sneaking into Yunho and San’s room to lie on San’s bed, scrolling through his phone as Yunho plays a few rounds of league. When he puts his headphones down, Seonghwa will always look up at him, eyes brightening when Yunho spins his chair around to face him. He always drops his phone to the bed, reaching out for Yunho, who, helpless to his hyung’s beautiful face and kind eyes, will go to him every single time.
At first they just lie down side by side, talking quietly until San comes in and wiggles between them, but then Seonghwa starts turning towards him, an arm laid across Yunho’s waist, head pillowed on his chest. It’s a lot for Yunho, who is, admittedly, still a growing boy in some ways, and has always had a bit of a hair trigger when it comes to Seonghwa, but the touch stays innocent, like Yunho is just a stuffed animal that Seonghwa wants to hug while he rests, one that will answer him when he talks and emits warmth.
The first time Yunho turns to face Seonghwa as well, his hyung makes a high, happy noise, scooting down the bed so he can nuzzle his face into the base of Yunho’s throat, delighting in being held. The next time, Seonghwa nudges his leg inch by inch, until he’s got their legs tangled together as they hold each other.
One night, they’re cuddling the way that is apparently the norm, now, and Yunho blurts out one of the things that’s been heavy on his mind recently.
“Why aren’t you doing this with Hongjoong?” he asks, voice quiet, as if he’s not already breaking the peace between them. Seonghwa hadn’t been moving, but he manages to go still against Yunho nonetheless, body tensing up. Hoping to reassure him, Yunho runs his hand up and down Seonghwa’s back in a steady rhythm, and slowly Seonghwa relaxes against him. He whispers an apology, and Seonghwa makes a confused noise in response.
“Why?” he asks, the word spoken into the hollow of Yunho’s throat, like he’s talking right into his body. It’s a puzzling response to what Yunho had asked, but Yunho won’t push, doesn’t want to make Seonghwa uncomfortable, not ever.
“Because, hyung,” he says, his hand coming to rest over his shoulderblade, but he keeps his thumb moving, brushing steadily over the thin shirt. It feels like the words are going to burn him from the inside, and he can’t say everything he means, can’t bring himself to admit this out loud to himself and Seonghwa, to the both of them. Acting cowardly, he diverts once more. “Has he been working too much again?”
A long, long silence follows his question, and Yunho takes it to mean that it’s the truth. The thumb turns back into the hand running up and down Seonghwa’s back, wishing he could take away the hurt. He loves Hongjoong too, knows he has a lot to handle, but Seonghwa deserves to be adored every moment of every day, isn’t someone who should be left missing their partner.
“It’s not that,” Seonghwa says finally, and his voice is small, quiet. He pulls his head away from where he was hiding against Yunho’s neck, wide, dark eyes tracking over Yunho’s face. It looks like he’s waiting for something — Yunho has had years of practice reading Seonghwa’s expressions, and this one is mostly familiar, but there’s something in it that he’s never seen before.
Instead of reading too much into it, he pulls Seonghwa in against him, holding him in San’s bed and resolving to talk to Hongjoong about this, even if it feels like he’s twisting the knife himself.
**
“Hyung,” he steps into the little studio space Hongjoong claims as his own, and can’t help but smile back when his leader grins at him.
“Sit down, c’mon,” he ushers Yunho to the small couch, pulling Yunho’s jacket from his hands to hang it on the back of the door. He turns off his monitors, turning to give Yunho all his attention, and Yunho really loves him a lot. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” he shrugs with one shoulder, leaned back into the squishy couch. He steels himself, swallowing thickly, and says what he came here to say. “I wanted to talk to you.” When he pauses, Hongjoong nods, leaning forward a bit to show he’s listening. “It’s about Seonghwa.”
Inexplicably, Hongjoong’s eyebrows pop up, his eyes widening as a smile sneaks halfway across his mouth before he schools it back into an open, neutral expression.
“Go ahead, Yunho-yah,” he nods, eyes sparkling. It’s a bit of an odd reaction, but Yunho takes it as a positive. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”
Taking a deep breath, Yunho pushes the words out through a tight throat. “I think you should come home more. He misses you, even if he won’t say it.”
Hongjoong blinks at him. His mouth is hanging open just a little, probably shocked that Yunho’s confronting him about something that is, honestly speaking, not his business, but Seonghwa had looked so… something. He’d looked like Yunho’s never seen him look before, and he can’t be expected to do nothing when Seonghwa had looked like that.
“He hasn’t said anything specific, but I know you both pretty well,” it’s a silly attempt at levity, one that makes Hongjoong tilt his head. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he does what is best for Seonghwa, and continues. “He loves you.”
Again, Hongjoong makes a face that isn’t at all what Yunho thought he would. Wide eyed and incredulous, he looks surprised, and Yunho wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see how lucky he is to have Seonghwa’s love, how precious that is.
Having said his piece, Yunho stays quiet as Hongjoong seems to gather himself. Finally, his leader composes his expression, setting his hands palms down on his thighs and smiling at Yunho in a way that makes him feel like he’s being pitied.
“Thank you for coming to talk to me,” he says, reaching across the space between them to squeeze briefly at Yunho’s fingers. Yunho takes it as the dismissal he knows it is, and promises to save Hongjoong some of their takeout for when he gets home before slipping back out the door.
**
A few days go by, and Hongjoong is noticeably around more. It’s nice, feels good having him home with them, and it makes getting to the last of their show filmings easier to coordinate.
Bafflingly, Seonghwa still comes to Yunho’s room, still waits for him to finish his rounds, still reaches for him, still cuddles himself in close to Yunho’s body. It’s a nightly routine by now, one that has somehow stuck around despite Hongjoong’s presence at home.
Despite it not making any sense, Yunho still bends to it, holding Seonghwa close to him and closing his eyes so he can pretend, for a fleeting, despicable moment, that he can have this.
**
Yunho has friends, of course he does, but he also has the not-quite-friends, the people he goes to when he needs something easy and quick with someone he trusts, even if they’re not close and likely never will be.
He’s with one of his acquaintances turned fuckbuddies in the guy’s apartment, just outside of Seoul — it’s a long weekend, so Soyoung has the day off, and Yunho had called him that morning, asking if they could hang out.
Having gotten out of the bed after they’d both gotten their fill, Soyoung is smoking out the window of his third floor walk-up apartment. There’s no view from the window, but he looks nice like that, the dimming light of the evening shining onto his skin as he blows smoke outside.
It’s easy not to think about Seonghwa, because Seonghwa is taller than Soyoung, and he doesn’t smoke, and he doesn’t live outside the city in a little apartment with no view. Yunho hasn’t thought about Seonghwa since they parted ways that afternoon when he left to come here, and even now, looking at Soyoung and not seeing his hyung, he doesn’t think of Seonghwa.
“You’re quiet today,” Soyoung’s voice is still laden with the Gwangju satoori that reminds Yunho of home, and when Yunho draws his eyes back up to his face, he sees that Soyoung is looking at him pensively. “You only ever get quiet when you’re thinking of something big.”
He’s only in his black boxers, and Yunho watches as he flicks the butt of his cigarette out the window and stalks over to the bed, settling in Yunho’s lap. They’re both people who enjoy physical contact, and Yunho’s hands lift to lie over his hip and thigh as he looks up at Soyoung.
“So what is it?” he prods, poking at Yunho’s chest and smiling when Yunho catches his wrist in one of his hands. “C’mon, big guy. What the fuck do you come here for, if not for some sort of catharsis?”
It’s too much, exposing too much of himself, so Yunho deflects, tugging on Soyoung’s arm until he angles himself down so Yunho can trail his lips over his throat.
“Maybe I just wanted to see you,” he murmurs, and that makes Soyoung laugh. He pulls back, sliding off Yunho’s thighs to sprawl out on the bed beside him instead.
“So it is a guy,” the words make Yunho’s blood go cold under his skin, and he knows he’s been caught out when Soyoung doesn’t tease anymore, just stares up at him. The silence drags on, and Yunho breaks the tension by rubbing his hands over his face. Soyoung rolls onto his side, hooking a leg over Yunho’s for comfort, and it’s so similar to how Seonghwa tends to cuddle him that Yunho’s hands twitch, wanting to throw it off so no one else does it besides him.
They lay like that for another little while, until Yunho’s phone buzzes with a call from his manager. He’s calling to ask if Yunho will still be able to meet him at the subway station he’d dropped Yunho off at a few hours ago, and Yunho confirms that yeah, he’ll be there. Soyoung doesn’t push for more conversation, wishing Yunho well at his front door with a kiss to his cheek and a pat on the chest.
It’s late enough when he gets home that the light from Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s bedroom is barely there, meaning it’s likely only Hongjoong who’s awake, scrolling through his phone or something like it. San is in his own bed, not asleep but on his way there, and Yunho lets him knead drowsily at his legs when he sits on the edge of the bottom bunk, telling him he hung out with someone he knows from high school until San falls all the way asleep.
When he showers, he doesn’t think about his hyung at all. Doesn’t think about the slope of his nose, the slant of his jaw, the elegant line of his torso as it tapers to his waist, the breadth of his shoulders, the weight of his thighs when they’re draped over Yunho’s, the sounds he makes when he’s waking back up from having dozed off. He doesn’t think about any of that, and when he jerks off under the spray of water, it’s not to the image of Seonghwa’s wide eyes and soft mouth.
**
Yunho wakes to the bed shaking, and when he pries his eyes open to check what’s going on, he’s met with Seonghwa as he climbs up the ladder, frozen now that he sees he’s woken Yunho up. It must be the middle of the night, because no lights are on, and nothing else in the apartment is moving besides Yunho and Seonghwa’s chests as they breathe.
“Hyung,” he says, voice scratchy and rough, and he’s immediately reminded of the weight of Soyoung’s dick in his mouth yesterday. It’s a dangerous thought when Seonghwa is so close and only coming closer, crawling up into Yunho’s bed and curling around him.
“Missed you,” Seonghwa mutters, burrowing his nose into Yunho’s chest, close to his armpit and only settling when Yunho puts an arm over his shoulders. “Go back to sleep.”
It’s confusing, deeply so, but Yunho assumes it must be a dream, so he relents, letting go of the breath he’d been holding and closing his eyes once more.
**
For the first time in a long while, he wakes not to the sound of his phone screaming at him, but to the quiet movement of a body against his own. Seonghwa is only breathing, not shifting or anything of the sort, and he’s fast asleep despite being a light sleeper in a bed with another person. The fan of his eyelashes over his flushed cheeks is delicate and dreamy, and Yunho just stares, tracing the planes of the face he’s loved for so many years with his eyes.
It doesn’t take long for Seonghwa to wake up as well, but he does so slowly, like he doesn’t want to join the land of the living. He snuffles cutely, and when his eyes open and take in Yunho’s face, he inexplicably breaks into a wide smile.
“Hi,” he says, and his eyes flick all over Yunho’s face. He’s pink-cheeked and soft with sleep, and Yunho’s whole chest hurts with his adoration, his desire for this to be what he’s always wanted it to be. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” Yunho nods, and Seonghwa yawns, big and wide and unashamed, nuzzling back in close when he’s done. He smells like morning breath and the moisturizer he uses on his face at night, and Yunho loves him. “Why’d you come up here?”
They’re whispering like secretive school kids up past their bedtime, and Seonghwa smiles at him like he thinks Yunho is a little dumb.
“I missed you, obviously,” he says, shrugging a little with one shoulder. “You were gone all afternoon and evening, so I didn’t get my government mandated Yun-snuggles.”
All of this is confusing, painful for Yunho’s heart and his brain as he tries to parse what all these past months could have possibly meant to Seonghwa. The possibilities rush around in his mind, but he’s forced to set them all aside when Seonghwa wiggles against him, squeezing him like Yunho’s just a big teddy bear or something, and mumbles something about wanting to sleep a bit more.
As always, he folds easily to Seonghwa’s wants, and holds him as he is held, trying not to think too much about anything.
**
When they’re up properly, Seonghwa stays close during their morning routines. They have some differences in the order they each follow, but Seonghwa waits for him to finish brushing his teeth and washing his face before getting in the shower, watching him all the while. He leans in closer when Yunho finishes drying his face off, and Yunho leans back in tandem, not jerking back but the movement sudden enough that Seonghwa pouts at him.
When Seonghwa starts the water running, Yunho rushes out of the small room, ears burning when Seonghwa’s laughter follows him out the door.
Wooyoung’s declared a strike against cooking for the group until Jongho apologizes for something he’s done that no one knows about, so there’s no homemade breakfast waiting for them. Not minding so much, Yunho pours the very last dregs of the coffee from the glass pot, setting it up to make more for them as he sips on his half-filled mug.
When Seonghwa comes out of the shower a solid thirty minutes later, he sneaks into his and Hongjoong’s room, a towel wrapped around his waist as his hair drips down his back. Yunho looks, because he’s still sleepy and Seonghwa’s back is turned anyway, and Mingi shuffles into the living room then, catching him in the act of ogling the broad expanse of skin he’s been gifted with.
“Eyes off, weirdo,” he mutters, sleep still heavy on his eyes. He comes close to Yunho, pushing his forehead into Yunho’s shoulder as he groans. The coffee is starting to drip into the pot, now, and Mingi makes a grateful sound as it burbles quietly. “Where’d you go last night?”
Taking a sip to avoid the question is a temporary fix, not one Mingi will let him get away with for long, and, true to form, he pokes Yunho in the side after a couple of seconds.
“I saw a friend,” he says, hedging his bets that Mingi won’t push for more, but he’s nosy, so of course all he gets is another poke, harder this time. Swearing lowly, he pokes Mingi back, and Mingi pinches him in retaliation at the same time as their hyungs’ door opens once again. “Fine, fuck off. I hung out with Soyoung.”
At that, Mingi lifts his head, a smile curling up the edge of his mouth. He wiggles his eyebrows, and yeah, Yunho hates this conversation pretty deeply now, especially since Seonghwa has sidled up to him, also dropping his forehead against Yunho’s other shoulder.
“Ohhh,” Mingi draws out the exclamation, grinning wider when Yunho shoves at him a little. For some weird reason Hongjoong’s expression doesn’t change when he walks by and sees Seonghwa snuggled up to Yunho, and that’s enough to distract him enough so he doesn’t realize what Mingi’s about to say next. “I didn’t know you still ‘hung out’ with him, that’s fun. Did you top this time or did he?”
It’s a crass question, one that would have earned Yunho’s sharp cry of “Mingi!” no matter the context, but with Seonghwa there, right next to him, with all they’ve been doing, how close they’ve gotten recently, it’s… worse. Against him, Seonghwa goes entirely still, and Yunho glares his friend down, fingers too tight on the handle of his mug. Mingi looks devious, not having caught on yet to the implications of what he’s said until Seonghwa straightens and takes one step back from Yunho, at which point Mingi’s expression falls.
“You… you slept with someone?” Seonghwa sounds strained, like he’s speaking through the pressure of something heavy on his chest.
He swallows thickly, and Yunho wants to deny it but can’t figure out why he would. They’re nothing, they’re just friends. Yeah, it feels weird and bad to talk about it with the guy he’s in love with, but Yunho has never deserved the love Seonghwa has to give, so he doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of. He shrugs with one shoulder, nodding after, and, confusingly, Seonghwa’s eyebrows draw down like he’s pissed.
“I… why?” another confusing question, coming from Seonghwa like he’s the confused one. He’s still standing apart from Yunho. Behind him, the coffee maker has gone silent, indicating the coffee is done.
Looking down into his mug, empty now, Yunho shrugs again. “We’ve been hooking up for a few years,” he says by way of explanation. He realizes that maybe Seonghwa’s upset to think he’s endangering the group, so he placates him. “I trust him, he’s never done anything bad. It’s really casual, so there’s no need to, like, talk to the higher ups or anything. I just go over there sometimes to—”
He knows what Mingi would’ve said, what he might have even said if the situation were different, but as it stands, he falls quiet, cutting himself off. To his left, Seonghwa has his eyes closed, his breathing slow and deep like he’s trying to calm himself down. None of this makes any sense .
“I see,” he says finally, opening his eyes and rolling his lips in as he takes in a deep breath. As he lets it out, a small, forced smile appears, pulling his lips thin, and Yunho’s hands twitch with the desire to hold his hand and ask him what’s wrong.
Instead of anything like that, though, Yunho takes in a breath of his own and shrugs again. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, and Seonghwa, puzzlingly, just looks deflated at the reaction.
“Can I please get some coffee?” he asks, voice quieter than before, and Yunho startles, moving out of the way so Seonghwa can get past him to pour himself a mug. He takes the chance to escape, leaving Seonghwa and Mingi in the kitchen as he slinks back down the hall towards his and San’s room, and when he gets back behind his door, he lets out the breath.
Later in the morning, Mingi comes to him to apologize, and Yunho waves him off — he did nothing wrong, just brought up something they’ve talked about before and Yunho would usually be fine with discussing. Inexplicably, before leaving Yunho alone once more, Mingi cuffs him lightly on the shoulder, and tells him to talk to Seonghwa.
Yunho will absolutely, definitely not be doing that, but he smiles up at Mingi and agrees anyway. Sometimes it’s better to pretend, and Yunho certainly has enough practice.
**
Seonghwa avoids him for three days.
It’s especially obvious because of their increasing closeness during the past months, and Yunho aches . He hurts like someone’s taken a hot poker and is holding it against his heart as he writhes, unable to escape it.
The worst part, though, is that Seonghwa isn’t pretending he doesn’t exist — instead, he’s just dancing around the perimeter of Yunho’s sightlines, casting him loaded glances when their eyes do inevitably meet, during an interview or on a show. It’s the last round of press before the break they’re going to get, and Yunho and Seonghwa are forced to interact, to work together during silly little games, to be normal. Seonghwa doesn’t even seem to be avoiding Yunho’s eyes, just doesn’t hover close the way he’d been doing earlier, and Yunho wonders what’s running through his mind whenever their gazes lock.
The distance doesn’t last forever, only to the end of this promotion cycle, but time passes differently when it feels like Yunho has lost something he never really had, caught in this limbo he doesn’t understand.
Seonghwa drifts closer again, claiming the seat beside Yunho’s in the van, sitting beside him while eating, even leaning his head on Yunho’s shoulder during a movie. It’s not everything, but it’s something, and Yunho hates how his terrible, traitorous heart flips behind his ribs when they can smile at each other without it feeling bad or wrong.
**
It’s not perfect, but they get almost all the way back to how it was before Yunho had been forced to reveal the sordid reason why he’d been out so late that night. Seonghwa starts coming to his room again, lying on San’s bed to wait for Yunho to come join him. They don’t cuddle, but they do lie on their backs, or sometimes, when Yunho is feeling particularly daring, on their sides, and talk.
It’s good, and Yunho feels like he’s slowly becoming whole again, stitching closed the parts of him that had been bared by Seonghwa’s hurt. Time comes back to its normal plodding along, and the dust settles around Yunho, even as he holds his half-hopeful yearning between his palms like a flickering firefly.
**
“Let’s go out for dinner, Yunho-yah,” sprawled out on the couch in their living room, Seonghwa peers up at Yunho, looking faintly hopeful and maybe a little nervous. He shifts, pulling his legs in towards himself, and Yunho admires the sliver of stomach he gets to see when Seonghwa’s shirt rides up a few inches. “I found a place I wanna try, and no one else will go with me.”
Yunho continues his path through to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see if there are any leftovers he can steal a few bites of to get him through the next few hours of gaming.
“Where is it?” he asks, frowning when he doesn’t find anything in the fridge. The idea of dinner with Seonghwa is enticing, of course, but it’s amplified tenfold when he realizes he’d have to either cook or order something for everyone who’s still at the dorms and not home with their families. The fridge door makes a low thud when it falls closed, and Yunho turns around to face Seonghwa.
He’s much closer than he’d been the last time Yunho had looked, has risen from the couch and is now leaning his arms on the little island that separates the two spaces. He’s got his phone in his hands, likely looking up the exact address, and Yunho stretches his arms above his head with a groan, his body stiff from the poor posture he adopts when sucked into a game.
“It’s close to the company,” Seonghwa says, turning his phone screen towards Yunho. As Yunho is looking at the screen, a notification from kakao drops from the top of the screen, and he sees Hongjoong’s user id. good luck! is all it says, puzzingly, but then Seonghwa is speaking again, drawing Yunho’s attention effortlessly. “We can get a lift there and walk? They’ve got private rooms, I checked.”
It seems to be about a twenty minute walk from the KQ building, and it’s early enough in the evening that Hongdae shouldn’t be terribly busy. There’s always a bit of a risk going out without any staff, but Yunho is willing to do it if Seonghwa is.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” he says, and Seonghwa’s face lights up.
“Really?” he asks, like he’s genuinely surprised that Yunho is wanting to spend time with him. As if he ever wants to be doing anything else. Instead of saying that, he just nods, his smile widening, and Seonghwa rushes in close to him like a happy cat, flitting off moments later towards his and Hongjoong’s room. When he comes out a few minutes later dressed in an outfit much nicer than it needs to be for a quick meal at a themed cafe in Mapo-gu.
Yunho is still in the kitchen, chewing idly on some chocolate chips, likely opened the last time Jongho made three huge cookies that turned out raw in the middle, which must have been more than four months ago by now. They’re a little stale, but Yunho can’t bring himself to care when Seonghwa is pushing his feet eagerly into his boots, the black velvet shirt falling open elegantly as he bends. He’s wearing these tight black jeans that drive Yunho crazy on a normal day, and his eyes are wide and bright when he looks up at Yunho with a smile.
“Go get dressed, cmon,” he shoos at Yunho with the hand not tugging on the loop hanging from the back of his boot as he crams his left foot inside. “Our manager is leaving in like ten minutes and I wanna catch a ride without having to explain everything.”
It makes more questions rise in Yunho’s chest, but he pushes away from the counter without asking any of them. He’s been in sweats and a big tshirt all day, having changed out of his pyjamas when he’d showered earlier in the afternoon. As he stands in front of his and San’s closet, he feels vaguely like he should dress like this is a time for him to redeem himself from his prior error, should try to make sure Seonghwa isn’t embarrassed to be going out with him.
Not going out. Just having something to eat and playing some games. Taking a deep breath in, Yunho reminds himself that he doesn’t have that with Seonghwa, doesn’t get to take him on dates.
He ends up picking a black button up, tucking it into blue jeans and pulling his longer black jacket on over the ensemble. It’s simple, and with a baseball cap and face mask, he thinks he looks pretty unrecognizable. When he comes out of his room, Seonghwa looks up from his phone, standing by the door to indicate the urgency, and Yunho sees his eyes widen for some reason.
“You look good,” he says, eyes jumping all over Yunho’s body as he laces his shoes, and when Yunho rises to his full height, Seonghwa’s lips are parted very slightly, like two cherry blossom petals that have just bloomed.
“You look better,” he says back, smiling to try and keep it teasing and light, and it seems to work, because Seonghwa averts his gaze, looking down bashfully.
“Thank you,” he says it quietly, and then he’s hooking his arm in Yunho’s and tugging him out the door.
The drive to the company is uneventful, the route so rote that Yunho hardly notices the buildings passing by. Their manager asks them what they’re going to do, and Seonghwa keeps it vague, telling him they’ll be practicing vocals and will probably be there for a while. Yunho’s not sure why Seonghwa’s keeping everything so secretive, but he can’t deny that it makes something excited flutter in him, the thrill intoxicating.
They don’t end up going into the KQ building, letting their manager rush ahead of them, leaving them alone to sneak out of the parking garage. Seonghwa is keeping Yunho close to him, their sides pressed together as they scurry out the emergency door from the service stairs. It’s their usual sneak out path, one they know the managers know about, one that has cameras, but one they use nonetheless, their managers letting them live with the illusion of a bit of freedom.
Yunho doesn’t mind holding the phone for them to look at Naver maps, since Seonghwa’s hands get cold so easily, and they don’t get recognized on their walk over. The board game cafe isn’t huge, and despite there being only one table occupied, Seonghwa gets them one of the private rooms and a few snacks while Yunho gazes around at the bookcases piled full of games. He doesn’t notice Seonghwa’s come to sidle close to him again until he’s threading his arm through Yunho’s, their elbows linking.
“You wanna choose the games?” he suggests, and when Yunho looks down at him, he finds Seonghwa looking back up at him, expression open even behind the mask. “I’ll play whatever you want to.” He detaches himself from Yunho’s side, taking his warmth as he leaves, but Yunho is given a smile as he backs away. “Meet me in there, yeah? Room three.”
“Okay, hyung,” Yunho replies, watching him leave with a lingering look before he turns back to the vast array of games. He knows he could stand in front of each bookcase for ages, reading the names and quick directions of each box, so he chooses three that have bright characters on them and seem to be worn from lots of use.
Tucking them under his arm, he bows again to the smiling receptionist, somehow shy now that he’s alone and tasked with bringing Seonghwa his choices for inspection. The hallway is short, just a few private rooms for parties, and Yunho lets himself into room 3, toeing off his shoes before looking up. There’s a low table in the center of the room, mats and cushions and squishy beanbag chairs littered around the space.
His eyes are drawn with an inevitability and purpose he can’t seem to help, even after all these years of looking at him, to Seonghwa, who is standing by the window and looking out.
“You alright?” Yunho asks, shrugging his coat off and hanging it from one of the hooks in the wall beside the door. Seonghwa turns to him, smiling wide, and nods.
“There was a family with a big dog,” he says, coming across the room to rid himself of his own jacket. He brushes his hands over the shoulders of his coat, still smiling sweetly and ducking his eyes from Yunho’s. “I love big dogs.”
Something flutters in Yunho’s chest, forbidden and confusing. Instead of addressing it, he steps towards the table, placing the games he’d chosen on the smooth surface. He sits, cross-legged, and starts taking the pieces out of one of the small boxes.
Seonghwa joins him after a moment, phone in hand, but it gets tucked under the cushion once he’s settled. The instructions are fairly straightforward, despite all the oddly shaped little gameplay pieces, and Seonghwa lets Yunho guide him through the first round. Once he’s got the hang of it, they play for real, and Seonghwa puts up a good show, even though Yunho ends up winning.
Leaned close over the table, Seonghwa’s hair is falling over his forehead, his eyes wide and bright as he watches Yunho scatter the pieces for the next round,
“Excuse me,” there’s a knock at the door, and Seonghwa looks over, pulling back only a few inches as he calls out for the receptionist from earlier to come into the room. She does, placing their drinks and snacks on the table, transferring them from the tray she’d brought with practiced ease, and when she sees the game they’re playing, she can’t stop her brow from furrowing. Immediately she apologizes when Yunho grins at the reaction, but she doesn’t seem upset. “I’ve never seen someone take that game.”
“Yunho-yah is teaching me how to play,” Seonghwa says, and he’s looking at Yunho’s face with a gentle smile when the receptionist’s gaze swings to him. “He’s never played before, but he’s already got it.”
There’s something frighteningly raw and knowing in the employee’s face when she looks between them, and Yunho’s heart seizes with fear that he’s been found out, that the adoration he has for Seonghwa is spilling from him like too many pebbles held between someone’s palms. She departs with a bow and the offer to get them whatever else they might need, and the knot in Yunho’s throat loosens when it’s just the two of them again. It’s almost worse when he looks to Seonghwa and sees his bright gaze and perfect teeth, all in a line behind the lips Yunho’s dreamt of for years and years.
“Drink,” he instructs, and Yunho nods, unable to do anything else but obey. Seonghwa continues resetting the pieces on the table, and Yunho spoons a piece of soft cake into his own mouth after the coffee. Looking up at him, Seonghwa glances at his mouth as he chews, and then inexplicably leans forward, no longer caring about the pieces as his lips part, eyes flicking from the cake to the spoon to Yunho’s face, over and over.
“Ah,” Seonghwa makes the little noise, jerking his chin at the spoon when Yunho doesn’t react right away, his throat working around the sound. Blankly, like he’s a puppet to Seonghwa’s invisible strings, he spoons another piece of the cake off, lifting it to Seonghwa’s mouth and letting him close his lips around it. His eyes crinkle with a smile as he hums happily — the cake is good.
None of this makes sense, though. They don’t address it, even though the words are heavy in Yunho’s throat as Seonghwa loses another round, pouting about it only for a moment before asking Yunho to teach him the other game he’d brought in. Poring over the instructions distracts him enough that he feels somewhat normal when he pulls his head back up, but it’s all ruined when he’s met with Seonghwa’s kind eyes staring over the table and their discarded game pieces with something that looks too much like what Yunho wants it to be.
He doesn’t say anything about the cake, or the looks, or the way Seonghwa ends up coming around the table to sit beside him as they try and figure out the third game Yunho had chosen for them, pressed in close to Yunho. The instructions were originally in german, and the translated section is poorly done. They end up fumbling their way through a semblance of two rounds, unsure if they’re doing it correctly, until Seonghwa tips into his side, giggling brightly. He doesn’t say anything about how Seonghwa sticks in close to him as they walk back to the company, doesn’t say a word about it when Seonghwa slips his hand into Yunho’s lap, twining their fingers together as he thanks Yunho for the evening, voice quiet in the back seat of the van.
The words, everything Yunho wants to say and do and feel, stay trapped under his tongue, like the lid of an overfull trunk that he has to sit on to keep closed. Seonghwa tugs Yunho into his and Hongjoong’s room when they get home, pulling him down into his bed, and it feels elicit to be here, tucked under his hyung’s covers, Seonghwa warm at his side, holding Yunho as his breathing slows, and he falls asleep with Yunho in his arms.
He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he can’t be there when Hongjoong gets home, so he moves slowly, quietly, trying not to wake Seonghwa. It doesn’t work, and Seonghwa pouts up at him with sad, sleepy eyes. Leaving the room is, very genuinely, one of the hardest things Yunho has ever done, but he does it even as the ache of want makes it hard to breathe.
**
Preparations for their tour are exciting, but exhausting. They’re all looking forward to and dreading the travel, most of them in equal parts, and the endless hours of practice, of meticulous planning and running through outfit changes to ensure they’ll all be on stage when they need to be.
There’s a holiday weekend a month into preparations, and everyone is given the time off to do whatever they wish. Their stylists and other staff all go home, wherever that might be, and BBTrippin all disperse, spending time with family and friends. The members are also scattered — those whose families are close to or in Seoul go straight home to them, and San spends hours in the van with a manager as he’s driven back to Namhae.
Yunho had dithered over going home, but ultimately he and his parents had decided that the travel time wasn’t worth the two days he’d get to be with them, especially with how tired and worn out he’d be. He video calls with his brother, who’s at boarding school for the weekend too, and calls his parents twice on the first day they’re off.
Despite San having gone home, and how easy it would have been for Seonghwa to go with him, piggybacking on the drive down, he hadn’t. Instead, he spends the whole first day on San’s empty bed, messing around on his phone while Yunho plays video games. He gets up a few times during the day, coming back with snacks for them, a refill of water for himself and a cold pepsi for Yunho, and each time he passes Yunho, he knocks his forehead gently against the side of Yunho’s head. It’s like a cat reminding someone that they’re there, and Yunho misses a good number of kills because of how much it distracts him each time.
That evening, they order delivery, their fridge despairingly bare, and eat it on the couch together, talking idly as they half-watch a show. It’s a Star Wars spinoff, one Yunho only knows the plotlines of because of how Seonghwa talks about it, and it’s nice to listen to Seonghwa as he reminds Yunho of all the dynamics and relationships between the characters. He gets so excited at one point that he hops up onto his knees on the couch, tugging at the short sleeve of Yunho’s shirt when something dramatic happens, and Yunho just grins up at him, helplessly enamoured and entirely gone for this man.
Sleepy enough from the strain of looking at screens all day, Yunho shuffles through his evening routine just after midnight, and Seonghwa sticks close, not talking as much now but still clearly full of restless energy. He flits off at one point while Yunho’s washing his face, and when Yunho drags himself back to the living room to say goodnight, he finds Seonghwa sitting on the floor, legos spread out around him on the coffee table.
He looks up when Yunho rounds the corner, smiling shyly, like he’s embarrassed, two little blocks pressed between his fingers to snap them together.
“You can go to bed,” he says, blinking slowly at Yunho, but something in his face makes Yunho stay, something in his tone keeping him tethered. Instead of leaving, dropping into bed like he wants to, he comes around the end of the couch and sits, leaning forward on his elbows to peer at the instructions. It’s one of the sets Seonghwa’s brother had bought him, untouched until now, and Yunho looks over the sprawl of little blocks, organized based on what section of the final product they’re meant to create.
“What do you want me to work on?” he asks, meeting Seonghwa’s eyes and waiting for him to point him in the direction of a lego pile so Yunho can start locking all the pieces together the way they’re meant to. The stare Seonghwa is leveling him with feels like he’s being stripped bare, his insides shown for Seonghwa’s gaze, but he finds it’s not the worst thing. Knocking his shin gently against Seonghwa’s knee, he smiles, nodding to the legos. “C’mon, hyung, I wanna help.”
It takes him a moment to react, but eventually Seonghwa does, nudging a section of the legos towards Yunho and indicating to him where his part is, so Yunho can follow the instructions. They build together in silence for another hour, the dorm entirely quiet besides the little snaps of the legos locking together, the rustle of the instruction paper, the quiet requests for the other to pass them a stray piece. It’s nice, feels good like all time with Seonghwa feels good, but there’s something between them that feels more than that, like a low static of awareness that fills the space between them.
Finally, Seonghwa seems to tire, and Yunho is pulled into his bottom bunk bed with limited resistance, too tired to do anything but revel in the warmth of Seonghwa’s skin against his own where his arm is slung over Yunho’s stomach.
**
When they wake the next morning, there are no alarms, no noisy footsteps in the hall, no rustling of others in their space. It’s quiet in a way the dorms are very rarely quiet, still with the absence of bodies instead of with the presence of them.
Waking up with Seonghwa in his arms feels terrifyingly right. They come awake slowly, Seonghwa waking first, so that he’s blinking up drowsily at Yunho from where he’s tucked against Yunho’s chest. Yunho, as he pulls himself from sleep, furrows his brows at the sight in front of him, confusing in its perfection, and it makes Seonghwa giggle, voice low and scratchy from sleep.
“Good morning,” he says, whispering, like he doesn’t want to disturb the stillness. Not worried about that kind of issue just yet, Yunho groans, selfishly pulling Seonghwa closer against his chest and nuzzling into his hair. He smells nice, and they lie together for another little while, ignoring the world as they drift in and out of a half-awake state they find themselves in.
Shockingly, it’s Yunho who rouses them enough to get out of bed. Seonghwa seems surprised by it, and Yunho doesn’t tell him the real reason, resigning himself to taking care of the erection in the shower once Seonghwa’s had his turn. It throws a wrench into his plan, then, that Seonghwa tugs at his hands, trying to force him up so they can shower together. While not an altogether unheard of experience, Yunho really, really can’t do that right now, so he denies even Seonghwa’s most devastating puppy eyes, rubbing his back and telling him he’ll take the bathroom after Seonghwa’s done.
It works, but it takes Yunho knocking their foreheads together briefly, holding Seonghwa’s left wrist in his hand and locking their eyes, for him to relent. Once Seonghwa is safely behind the bathroom door, Yunho lets out a long breath, adjusting himself in his sweats and willing himself to calm down. He can’t be hard when Seonghwa comes out of the shower, that would be so bad, and so he thinks of boring, rote things, like the bus route he used to take from his highschool to the KQ building, the steps of making kimchi from planting the cabbage to putting it in a stew, the memory of the rain pattering against his bedroom window.
It works, and Yunho finally feels normal enough to leave Seonghwa’s bedroom, bypassing his own room to go straight to the kitchen. The coffee machine greets him with a little noise, and he goes about preparing the coffee, letting it do its work once it’s ready.
“Yunho-yah,” the sound of running water cuts off after Seonghwa’s voice calls to him, and Yunho finds himself already moving towards the bathroom by the time the rest of the sentence comes. “I forgot a towel.”
He sounds like he’s pouting, and Yunho squeezes his eyes shut before going any further, listening intently to the sounds of the coffee machine as it burbles away behind him.
“Okay, just a second,” he calls back, and steps back into Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s room. He finds Seonghwa’s towel slung over the back of his desk chair, and walks to the bathroom like he’s not fully inside his own body. Stopping outside the door, he swallows, then speaks. “I’ve got it, hyung. Want me to leave it at the door?”
Instead of answering, Seonghwa just swings the door open. He’s leaning most of his body around it, the door just barely covering his lower half, only cutting off at the very top line of the dark hair smattered over his pelvis. He’s beautiful, dripping wet, water running over his skin like it’s trying to draw Yunho’s eyes down, down, far lower than Yunho has any right to be looking.
“Thank you, puppy,” Seonghwa speaks the words like they’re normal, like it’s not a crazy, dizzying thing to say. Blank minded, Yunho just stands there, staring, the towel held in his outstretched hand. Their fingers brush when Seonghwa takes it from him, but instead of ducking back behind the door and closing it, he just takes the towel in, maneuvering his body so he can sling it around his hips. Covered, now, Seonghwa steps out of the bathroom, and when he passes Yunho, he pats him gently on the cheek, smiling like he can see into each of Yunho’s veins. “Shower’s free.”
He saunters down the hallway, hips swaying attractively, and Yunho doesn’t know what to do. He should shower, he knows that, but he doesn’t want this mood to break, doesn’t want to force them into normalcy again, wants to keep everything the way it is right now for as long as he can.
Shower. He needs to shower. He should step into the bathroom and do that, should run the water colder than usual so he can stop being so Much around Seonghwa.
Instead of that, he turns, walking towards Seonghwa’s room once again. He finds the door slightly ajar, and applies a slight pressure, pushing it out of his way so he can see inside. Seonghwa doesn’t seem terribly surprised to see Yunho there, just turns and smiles with one corner of his mouth. He’s only wearing his boxers, the fabric tight against his skin, and he’s standing in front of his closet like he’d been forgoing actually getting dressed to dither over his choices.
“Are you alright, Yunho?” he asks, something that’s not quite concern in his voice, and Yunho watches as he picks a pair of jeans at random, not even looking at his choice. He pulls the pants on slowly, like he wants Yunho to watch each leg as it extends and slides under the fabric.
He leaves them unbuttoned and unzipped, instead reaching for a shirt at random as well, not picking based on what he sees, since his eyes are still locked to Yunho’s face. Slowly, he pulls it over his head, letting the shirt fall around his waist, and he tugs the waistband of the jeans up over the shirt, leaving it messily tucked in. Seonghwa had chosen a soft green blue shirt, one that touches at his skin around the collar, smoothing down his back and draping prettily against his sides. He leaves it half tucked in, not seeming to care much, and Yunho wants to reach out, wants to tug the rest of the shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, wants to replace it with his hands.
Yunho does nothing of the sort. What he does, is take a step back, swallow hard, and force his eyes up to Seonghwa’s, meeting his gaze. Inexplicably, he sees heat there, Seonghwa’s pupils blown wider than before, his lips parted as he breathes. His skin is still flushed from the hot shower, pinked and delicate, and Yunho wants him so much he feels like he might fall down from it.
Another step back, and then Yunho is stuttering out something about needing a towel, and Seonghwa blinks, tipping his head to one side like he’s mildly confused about something. Yunho doesn’t stick around to embarrass himself any further, just leaves the bedroom and flees towards the bathroom. Inside, he finds one of his own towels, hanging on the rack beside one of Seonghwa’s. He locks the door behind himself, bracing his hands on the counter and forcing his breaths to come more steadily.
When he finally, finally steps under the shower spray, more time has passed than he can reasonably excuse, but he doesn’t know how else to handle everything. He showers without thinking of much, not letting his mind stray past the motions his hands are doing at that moment, the actions he needs to complete to clean himself.
It works, mostly, his mind only wandering towards Seonghwa a few dozen times, and he counts it as a tenuous win.
**
Seonghwa is on their little balcony, the space hardly ever used unless one of them wants to work out where the others won’t be stepping on their toes. He’s got a big sweater pulled over his body, and Yunho recognizes it as one of his own, likely stolen from his room while he was in the shower. It doesn’t dwarf him too severely, but it does overwhelm his frame in the soft white material.
When he notices Yunho out of the corner of his eye, he smiles, sipping at his coffee as he straightens. His steps are deliberate when he comes back into the kitchen, and he places his mug on the counter so he has more room to make his next move.
His next move being, incomprehensibly, extraordinarily, that he presses himself to Yunho’s chest, his arms wrapping around Yunho’s waist. He doesn’t have to lift onto his tip toes to get up to Yunho’s height, their noses brushing, but it’s a close thing.
And then he speaks.
“I like you, Yunho,” he says the words clearly, so there’s no way to misunderstand them, no way for them to mean anything else. They’re quiet but firm in the scant inches separating the two of them, but they’re everything Yunho has wanted to hear, to feel, to know. Around his waist, Seonghwa’s arms tighten. “There’s no one else. It took me a while to figure it out, but it’s not scary to me to know it.”
The dorms are entirely still. Between them, Yunho holds his breath, like exhaling will shatter this dream.
“I think you like me too,” Seonghwa continues, brave, his voice only wavering the tiniest bit, and Yunho’s teeth ache with his adoration, all of it wanting to pour out of him at once. “You don’t have to answer me, or say anything, but I just wanted you to know—”
It’s rude, that Yunho’s doing this, interrupting Seonghwa while he’s being so courageous, but Yunho can’t bear having him so close, saying these things and meaning them, so he kisses him.
It’s euphoric. There’s heat roiling in them, their bodies close as Seonghwa’s hands run up Yunho’s back, and Yunho, desperate not to let this go, holds Seonghwa’s face gently between his hands. They cradle his face perfectly, like Yunho was made to hold Seonghwa, and the thought sends a frisson of helpless devotion down his spine. Their mouths move together smoothly, kissing like it’s brand new, like they’ve been doing it for years. It feels right, feels so much better than Yunho had ever imagined, feels like nothing else he’s ever experienced.
In his hands, Seonghwa makes a noise like he’s hurting, and it makes Yunho reel back, full of fear that he may have done something wrong, but Seonghwa doesn’t let him go far. Catching his wrists, he keeps Yunho close to himself, his lips parted as he breathes through his mouth.
“I want you,” he says, still speaking so, so clearly, like he needs Yunho to know it with every bit of himself. Spreading his own hands on Yunho’s chest, he says it again, voice breathier now. “I want you.”
“Fuck,” Yunho can’t help but curse, crowding in close to Seonghwa and kissing him again. The feeling of his lips, damp now with their shared saliva, is intoxicating, and Seonghwa surrenders so sweetly in Yunho’s hold. “I want you so much, hyung. You have no idea.”
More kissing, like they’re both starved for air and the only way to breathe is through each other’s lips. Yunho ends up pressed back against the kitchen counter, his whole body thrilling with the rush of this, their closeness, the fact that they’re kissing in the kitchen, like all of Yunho’s saddest, most desperately in love imaginings had conjured in the quiet moments before he was properly awake while on tour, or in waiting rooms for music shows, or when he saw other members push in close to Seonghwa for physical affection.
“Then show me,” Seonghwa says, and Yunho is so lost in the sensation of being held by Seonghwa like this that he forgets what he’d said before. When he remembers, though, Seonghwa’s response makes him feel like his knees are about to give out. He kisses Seonghwa harder, pushing their mouths together in an uncoordinated mash of lips that makes Yunho feel like he’s a teenager, awkward and shy, held a safe distance from another highschool boy as they pressed their lips together nervously.
Nothing has ever felt like this, though, nothing ever could, ever will again. Seonghwa had ruined him for everyone else from the very first time Yunho heard the smile in his voice as he told him he was excited to meet him.
“Can I…” he can’t say it, the breadth of his adoration catching his words before they can tumble out of him. Instead, he just breathes hard against Seonghwa’s mouth, their faces held close, like they don’t want to stop kissing, lips parted, noses brushing. “Hyung.”
“I want it,” Seonghwa replies, nodding as he pushes in even closer. Yunho’s hands are on his hips, the warmth of him burning against his body, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted. He lets himself be kissed again, Seonghwa’s mouth firm and insistent against Yunho’s own, his hands sliding up Yunho’s chest. “But I’ve never…”
One hand comes to rest over the column of Yunho’s throat, the other sweeping over his shoulder. It takes a moment for the words to settle, like sediment in a writhing stream, some of the pieces still fluttering about around Yunho’s head and making him dizzy.
“We don’t have to,” he says, breathless with the idea of it, of Seonghwa letting him touch him like this, no one else having been worth the privilege. He’d likely be able to get off to the very idea of Seonghwa being willing to give this to Yunho for months, Seonghwa can take his time, can give him nothing but the vision in Yunho’s mind of being awarded such an honour. “I don’t need to, hyung. I love you, you don’t have to do anything more.”
Seonghwa smiles, then, a soft thing, and then he’s rising onto his tiptoes the very small amount he needs to in order to kiss Yunho again.
“I love you too,” he says, and hearing the words repeated back to him is what makes Yunho aware of his own. Like a bolt of electricity, the statement zings through Yunho, and he can’t help the way his mouth hangs open around a sound like sounds pained. Seonghwa holds his head between his own hands, and kisses the corner of his lips. “So take me to bed.”
It’s like Yunho can’t stop himself, acting like an animal that’s been let out of its pen. His hands push up under his own sweater, finding that the shirt is still messily caught under the waistband of his sweats. He frees it, his hands touching Seonghwa where they’ve wanted to for longer than Yunho can trace back. Against him, Seonghwa gasps as he’s hauled in even closer to Yunho, the breath taken deep into Yunho’s chest so it doesn’t go to waste between them.
“Not yet,” he manages to grind out, jaw clenched as he pulls himself back. Seonghwa laments the loss with a whimpery noise, but he quiets quickly when Yunho flips their positions, pressing Seonghwa back against the counter and sinking to his knees. “Can I make you come?”
He looks up at Seonghwa, his damp hair falling into his eyes. Above him, Seonghwa is panting, Yunho’s sweater held up around his waist by one of his elbows. He’s covering his mouth like he’s shy, like he might say something he doesn’t want to, and Yunho leans in, nuzzles over the bulge in his sweats. He smells clean and fresh, like laundry detergent and his grapefruit body wash, and when Yunho curls his fingers into the waistband and tugs, he gasps, high and thin, like he’s surprised.
“I want to,” he tries to say, and Yunho is listening, of course he is, he’s always listening to Seonghwa, but he can multitask. He likes the way Seonghwa’s thigh tremble as he pulls his sweats down just enough to get closer to his dick. The head is evident by the patch of wetness smeared over it, and Yunho sticks his tongue out, laying it flat over the line of Seonghwa’s cock and inhaling at the same time.
It’s over so quick, Yunho’s tongue wet and thick against the damp spot, tasting the salty tang of his precome, and then he’s tugging Seonghwa’s boxer briefs down, his cock suddenly right in front of Yunho’s face. He sucks at the head for a moment, then dips lower, and they both know this will be done almost as suddenly as it had begun, but neither of them stop, neither of them wanting to slow it down.
A small noise catches in Seonghwa’s throat, and then Yunho’s moving, holding his hands at the backs of Seonghwa’s thighs, pulling him forward so he can get his dick deeper into his mouth. A tiny, aborted thrust, the instinct to chase the hot and wet and smooth thrilling Yunho as he encourages him to move.
When he comes, Seonghwa shakes under his hands, in his mouth, and Yunho swallows before pulling back gently to let him speak. There’s a drawn out intermission, during which Yunho licks his lips and smiles up at his hyung, beyond enamoured with the sight he makes. He tucks Seonghwa’s dick back into his boxer briefs, wondering briefly if he’ll want to shower again or not.
It takes him a long moment and a quirk of Yunho’s eyebrow, but Seonghwa seems to remember that he’d been talking. “I want to make you come too,” he says, still breathing heavily, and the words, spilling from his petal pink lips like raindrops over Yunho’s head, make him blush. Reaching down, he pets through Yunho’s hair gently, and it seems to be more self-soothing than to comfort Yunho. “Can I?”
Yunho wants to tell him so much. He could tell him he wants to get off, could tell him he never has to come again if Seonghwa doesn’t care to, could tell him how many times he’s thought about this, could tell him about how none of this is how he’d thought the confession would ever go.
He doesn’t tell him any of that. What he says, is, “Take me to bed?”, relishing the pinking of Seonghwa’s ears when he nods. It’s easy to let himself be pulled to his feet, easy to let Seonghwa lead him through the living room, easy to tumble into the bed and kiss Seonghwa even though he knows his tongue tastes like cock and cum, easy to land on his back when he’s turned. Seonghwa perches on his thighs, fingers trembling in what he assures Yunho is excitement, and pulls Yunho’s basketball shorts down.
When Seonghwa takes him into his hand, it’s deafeningly warm and far too dry and Yunho could want for nothing more. After one stroke, his hyung realizes it’s not slick enough and, dizzyingly, reaches up under his pillow, coming back with a bottle of lube in his left hand. Then he’s back, his grip firm, and it’s too wet, now, wetter than Yunho usually likes it, and Seonghwa, good, beautiful, perfect Seonghwa, seems to realize something could make this better, and brings his other hand over, linking his fingers together and squeezing Yunho’s cock between them.
It’s blissful, an indulgence Yunho doesn’t often award himself, because it always makes him come far too quickly. His hands twist in the covers, and when he arches his back up off the bed, he lifts Seonghwa a little as well, but it doesn’t throw him off his rhythm.
The sight of it, of Seonghwa against him, his hands the ones to bring Yunho close to the edge, it enough to throw him over it. He comes with a long, thin groan, one of his hands coming up to fist in Seonghwa’s sweater, and he uses the grip to pull him down for a deep kiss. It’s messy and wet between them, but neither of them care at all, just lose themselves in the kisses, unable to stay apart for long enough to tidy up. Seonghwa dries his hands on the thin blue shirt that he’s got on under the sweater, pulling both off and cuddling under the covers with Yunho, claiming he’s warm enough that Seonghwa doesn’t have to worry about catching a cold.
Somehow, they fall asleep. Pressed together, sharing the same air, static buzzing between them like a livewire, they still manage to doze off, and Yunho, for the first time in a long few months, doesn’t fall asleep worried about waking up with it all having been a dream.
**
“If you two don’t stop canoodling , I’m going to tweet something unwise on the official account!”
The yell comes from Yunho’s left, and when Seonghwa lets him up from the deep kiss they’d been ensnared in, he sees Wooyoung standing there, peeking through his fingers like a troublemaking teenager. Without letting him draw away, Seonghwa picks up one of the pillows and tosses it in Wooyoung’s vague direction, and then he’s pulling Yunho back into a kiss.
Settled happily in his hyung’s lap, Yunho lets himself be kissed, kissing back lazily until the contact is broken by their twin smiles.
“Let’s go,” he says, jerking his head to the side to indicate Yunho’s room. Raising his voice to be heard clearly, he continues. “Before Wooyoung-ah does another stupid thing.”
They retreat to the quiet comfort of Yunho and San’s room, and while Yunho goes right to flop onto the bed, Seonghwa stops, observing something on Yunho’s shelves with a pensive expression.
“What’s up?” he asks, propping himself up on an elbow and cradling his own head in his hand, and Seonghwa reaches up, hand curling around the little pink gundam doll that had, in a way, set all of this into motion. His face is gentled with love and memory, and Yunho’s heart sputters in his chest.
“You kept it, huh?” Seonghwa says, lifting his eyes to Yunho, and Yunho rolls his eyes, ears going hot.
“Obviously,” he says, going for nonchalant but missing it by a wide berth. It makes Seonghwa smile wider, and he’s careful when he places it back on the shelf, adjusting it so it’s posed exactly how Yunho had positioned it when he’d put it up. Reaching out so Seonghwa will slip his hand into Yunho’s, he coaxes him close, but Seonghwa doesn’t slide into his lap the way he anticipated, just grins down at him and bops him on the nose with one pretty finger.
“You had a crush on meee,” he teases, familiar and equally as in love. Unwilling to deny it, Yunho just smiles back up at him, and knows that Seonghwa feels all of his adoration.
“I did,” he says, the admission easy as anything, and when Seonghwa kisses him, it feels like forever.