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Never had Cheesy ever seemed even a tad bit tired. Ever. For as long as Yang's known him, the blond would welcome the world with a smile. Or a frown, if he was in a bad mood. He’d seen him both laugh and cry, the cacophony of feelings and emotions that were constantly pouring out of Cheesy like a broken faucet was never quiet. It was like Cheesy couldn’t quite control it himself, as if he didn’t know when to stop. He could go from happy to distraught in a matter of seconds and always for such pointless reasons that Yang could even catch himself scoffing and rolling his eyes at the comedian’s antics, what was his deal? How can a single person feel so much, over so little? It never made sense, things rarely did, according to the darker half.
Yang secretly admired it, just a bit. Cheesy wasn’t afraid of opening up, no, he didn’t even know how to close himself off at times. Yang admired it, and hated it, partly because he could never be so honest with others himself, and because it was tiring.
Of course, this is an internal dialogue that Yang would never reveal to his boyfriend, lest he wanted to find himself consoling Cheesy for anywhere between two hours to a few minutes, depending on how Cheesy felt that day. Not that he minded doing so, he just didn’t want to see him upset.
So when Yang stumbles into the hotel kitchen one calm afternoon, and Cheesy, who is sitting by the table and holding his head over a bowl of cereal that had gone soggy long ago, doesn’t really respond, something is off-putting. There’s a distinct lack of energy, lack of laughter in the air. An uncomfortable silence stretches over them, an itch Yang can’t quite scratch. Cheesy is never tired, Yang’s told himself, so to see him like this startles him and leaves him at a loss of words.
His mental alarms go off, as corny as it sounds he can’t help but see his boyfriend sad and immediately sense a feeling of dread in his stomach. He curls his fingers into fists and warily eyes the milk left out on the table that the blond had yet to put away. Something gnaws at Cheesy, Yang can tell. A blanket of familiarity hugs them both, it’s one of those days.
“Hey, Cheesy,” Yang finally speaks, soft words rolling out his mouth, much more gentler than intended and Yang fears he’s coming off as condescending. He has a tendency to insult people, it’s like every word he says is coated in malice when that isn’t always the case. People just tend to filter out his words and take everything in offence when it comes to him, so expressing his emotions rarely goes the way he wants to. “What’s up?”
And when he finally looks at Yang, he stares. Cheesy stares, blankly and almost frighteningly, with wide eyes and a pale face. After a second, he blinks and a wave of emotion washes over his face, as if he wasn’t devoid of any and all feelings just a moment ago. The comedian attempts to smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he wishes he was anywhere but here right now.
Yang isn’t phased, but sure as hell is concerned. Cheesy is too unpredictable for his own good, he’s too impressionable and has fallen into hours of sad moping over something someone once said. Emotional regulation is unheard of when it comes to him and Yang can only sigh, he knew what he was getting himself into when they went on their first date but somewhere he didn’t suspect all of this. All of what Cheesy was and is.
The blond mumbles a timid hello, feeding himself another spoon of soggy cereal and milk mixture that resembled something Yang could only vaguely compare to baby food. He chews slowly and scratches his hand, absentmindedly. It’s a nervous tic he’s developed over the years, as if electricity is running through the thin veins of his hand and he can only get it to go away if he pulls on his skin with his nails much like a knife on a plate. Yang winces just looking at it and Cheesy hopes he’s not being too weird, too much of himself, right now.
He’s not meant to be viewed like this, Cheesy feels. He shouldn’t have to be seen under these circumstances, hair undone and bags under his eyes. He simply can’t help it, his mind is a whirlwind of either too much good or too much bad and to find the balance between those two would be like trying to find a needle in a pile of hay. He’s too spent to even try. He doesn’t feel like doing anything today, for reasons he doesn’t know himself. Maybe he was just born this way, maybe he was never meant to find peace. Cheesy wishes he knew.
Yang sits down, chair scrapes against the cold tiles and Cheesy freezes for a moment, raising an eyebrow towards Yang that says ‘really?’
It’s like he can tell Yang is only there to try and make him feel better, despite the fact that they both know the darker one of the two can’t do anything. Cheesy doesn’t know how to explain the fact that every now and then he suddenly stops brushing his teeth and sleeps for hours at a time and rarely leaves his room or talks to anyone. There’s no logical explanation for that.
He knows he’s being difficult, his sourness shields him away and if he can push everyone away for just another day maybe he’d feel less exhausted. Or he’d go crazy from a lack of human contact, who knows? He’d survived this long.
But Yang’s different to Cheesy, in his warped and distorted mental state even. On both his happiest days and on days like these, Yang was an everlasting constant in his sea of endless feeling. Cheesy doesn’t know how to tell him he loves him, but he tries to.
“What?” Yang huffs, playfully enough to let Cheesy know he’s not actually mad. “Can’t I sit beside my boyfriend every once in a while?”
Cheesy actually feels a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and he lets himself look at Yang with a doubtful face, and things feel a little more normal. As normal as they can possibly get, at least.
“You’re in front of me, not beside me,” Cheesy says, airily fidgeting with his spoon.
“I want to see you,” Yang replies.
“Why? I look terrible today.” Cheesy mutters, voice going softer as he reaches the end of his sentence and suddenly he’s back to square one.
“I don’t think so. I think you’re very handsome.” Yang drops his cocky smile and furrows his eyebrows, holding Cheesy’s freckled arm with the lightest of touches. Cheesy sniffles, he can’t look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” Cheesy apologises. For what exactly, he doesn’t know. His inescapable emotionality, the way he burdens the one he loves the most, for how he’s crying over nothing at all? Maybe it’s all three, he doesn’t have the time to narrow it down.
Yang blinks, trying to figure out what to say and when to say it and how to say it, like a puzzle piece it needs to be perfect. Cheesy wonders how long he can leave the milk out before it goes bad.
“It’s okay,” Yang says, and the two fall into silence again.
Cheesy would be anyone else if he could, anyone. At times, he’s sure that he’s the most annoying person on the planet. At times, he feels like the world would end without his presence. It’s a weird rollercoaster, constantly and involuntary switching between good and bad like that. It’s like he’s aware of all things at once, like he needs to be aware of what everyone is thinking of him to be able to form an opinion on himself.
Yang can’t understand that, because Yang only ever needs himself. He doesn’t need others to approve of his existence, he exists because he wants to, because no one can tell him no, and that’s just how he works.
Cheesy lets the thought pass, and looks at Yang. His beauty always mesmerizes him, every inch of his face and every little part of it. His nose, his eyes, his cheeks. His eyebrows and his lips, Cheesy doesn’t understand how one person can be so beautiful without knowing it.
“Yang?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Would you choose me?”
“What?” Yang huffs, blinking dumbfoundedly. Cheesy runs a hair through his messy curly hair, sputtering slightly.
“Like, in a room full of people, would you choose me?” Cheesy asks once again, dead serious.
Yang laughs slightly, the absurdity of the value of their relationship being built on a question like that feels like a mockery, but he humours his partner still. Mostly because Cheesy would get upset at him if he didn’t.
“Who are these people in the room? Do I know them?”
“Umm… yeah. They’re our friends.” Cheesy responds after a second’s thinking.
“Only friends? I don’t have enough friends to fill an entire room, Cheesy.” Yang deadpans.
“It’s a small room.”
“Then I’d choose you.”
“What if your family was also there?”
“That’d be pretty cramped.”
“It’s a bigger room now.”
“Why is everyone in the room?” He questions.
“It doesn’t matter– Just, just answer the question, Yang.” Cheesy says with a lilt of humour. An improvement from a minute ago, Yang thinks happily.
“Uh, well, who are there?”
“Hm… Yin is there. And your parents, I guess.”
“...I’d still choose you.” Yang finally decides.
“What if… Dr Fizz was there?”
“Now, now. Let’s not make this more complicated than we need to.” Yang hurries, smiling nervously with cheeks dusted pink. Cheesy chuckles, a sound Yang had missed hearing. He’d photograph this moment, frame it and put it on the wall if he could, but sadly it’s over before he can blink. When Cheesy’s smile fades away, it seems like every other colour in the room does too, and Yang finds himself in an abyss of greyness.
“You know that I love you, right?” Yang says, a smile still apparent but with furrowed eyebrows. Somewhere, deep down, he’s afraid he’s doing something wrong, that he can’t be what Cheesy needs and that idea drives him crazy. He tries his best to understand and do what he’s supposed to, but it more often feels like a shot in the dark than a sincere action. Yang just hopes Cheesy can’t tell.
That spark in Cheesy’s eyes dies, and he looks down at the wooden table. He traces the pattern of the wood with his finger and sighs heavily. Yang’s eyes burn daggers into him.
“I know. I’m sorry I’m like this sometimes,” he whispers. “I’m just scared I’m… too much. Even for you. I love you, I love you a whole lot.” Cheesy says.
The air is heavy with unsaid words and Yang feels like a million miles away, Cheesy sighs. Yang doesn’t say anything else, unsure of what exactly to say. Cheesy can’t make him say anything, that wouldn’t be right. He hopes Yang understands, that he can see past his flaws and love him on his good days. Yang silently promises to do his best.