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Jaehyun wakes up in a thick haze of grogginess, someone’s incessant yet quiet voice anchoring him out of a dreamless sleep. His back throbs with the ache only incurred when one decides to sleep slantedly on a sofa with one too many pillows tucked under their legs. There’s a faint trickle of light sneaking in from the sides of the drawn curtains, shadowing the figure standing somewhat awkwardly at the end of the living room.
It takes Jaehyun only a few seconds to realise who it is.
He blinks, yawning, and leans up on his elbows, “Sungho? What- what happened?”
Sungho doesn’t say anything for a bit. Then, he tilts his head pointedly in the direction of the hallway, his message clear, and casually turns heel, walking away.
Jaehyun yawns once more and with a sigh that gives way to a smile, he grabs two pillows, shoves his blanket under his arm, and follows after the disrupter of his sleep.
The walk to their shared room is brief, filled with the sounds of their breathing, the soft shuffling of their steps. Once they reach the threshold, they both halt, Jaehyun still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
There is a reason why they don’t rush inside, don’t fall headfirst into their mattresses. It is the same reason why Jaehyun’s been sleeping in the living room these past few weeks and why Sungho hasn’t come to drag him in until now.
The thing is... A few months ago, their bedroom had two beds.
Now, it only has one.
The six of them–they’d pulled an unfortunate all-nighter that had ended up in each one of them jumping on Jaehyun’s bed in some misguided attempt to chase the joy of youth or some such thing. Naturally, it had ended up in two broken wooden legs and several bruised limbs. The physical damage had healed soon enough but the aftermath of that night had made things a bit awkward for him and Sungho.
“So,” Sungho says after some hemming and hawing, “Uh, you should not sleep on the couch...”
Jaehyun looks at his face, twisted in a grimace of discomfort and suppresses the urge to laugh. Instead, he feels a keen awkwardness surge within him too and he shifts his weight, leaning against the doorframe, still clutching his fluffy pillows under his arms.
“Yeah, that’s, er, good advice,” he says quite idiotically. “Really good advice.”
“Mh-hmm,” Sungho agrees, also idiotically.
Then, “So, do you want to sleep with me?”
And see, Jaehyun does spend a microsecond contemplating whether he should draw attention to the innuendo because Sungho’s all but presenting the joke on a silver platter but he changes his mind just as quickly because...
Well, he doesn’t want to throw that thought out into the open. Not again. He can’t dare to.
So, he simply grins, “Thought you’d never ask.”
Sungho stares at him for a moment and whatever he finds, it helps him break out of the weird mood. He playfully rolls his eyes and snatches away the blanket that is almost falling off from his loosened grip and goes straight inside. He deposits the blanket neatly at one side of the bed and only then does Jaehyun register the neon coloured post-it notes forming a vertical boundary exactly halfway across the bed.
He should be surprised but he isn’t. Infact, this is exactly the kind of bizarre nonsense he would except from Sungho.
Still, he can’t help but comment on it.
“Sungho-yah,” he says, his eyes on the sticky notes. “You know those won’t do shit, right? Once I’m asleep, I’m dead to the world. Those flimsy things won’t stop me from crossing over.”
“Oh,” Sungho utters and takes a seat on the bed. “Well, let’s keep them anyway. I’ll come up with a better system later.”
Jaehyun snorts and eases into the softness of the bed, extremely grateful for how the pain in his back slowly releases as he settles in. “I’ve missed this,” he says, yawning again, the back of his hand covering his mouth.
“I would have called you earlier–” Sungho begins but Jaehyun waves a dismissive hand, stopping him short.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “Besides, it was my decision to go camping in the living room. You didn’t force me out.”
Sungho considers those words and nods. They both take a moment to adjust their pillows and together, they lie down next to each other, their blankets pulled up, the lights switched off, the space between them enough to fit the elephant in the room.
Jaehyun looks at the ceiling, his heart beating slowly, steadily in his chest. Sleep still colours the edges of his vision but Sungho’s breaths ring too loud in the silence of the room.
“You know,” Jaehyun says, his voice a murmur, “I almost dropped my mic while doing the flip on stage. That would have been so embarassing.”
He feels Sungho shift next to him, the sheets rustling like the leaves swayed over gravel by the winds.
“As if embarassment makes any dents in your behavior,” Sungho says with a quiet laugh. “You don’t fear what others think of you. And if you do, it’s never hindered you before.”
Jaehyun feels his chest tighten at those words. “...That’s not true,” he replies, turning slightly so Sungho’s figure enters his line of sight, a rough vision in the darkness of the room.
We’re bare here, he thinks. Is this what I’d been so scared of earlier?
“Isn’t it?” Sungho asks and he’s perfectly still, his arms cushioning his head, not a movement to indicate any kind of discomfort or restlessness. But his voice? It has always given him away.
“What do you... fear, then?”
“Yah,” Jaehyun says, his lips twisting up. In the dark, Sungho won’t know if it’s a smile or a grimace. “Don’t turn this into an interrogation. We don’t have to be so... serious, you know?”
“Jaehyun.”
“Did I tell you about Woonhak’s incident with the hairgel?” Jaehyun says, his voice turning light and airy. He turns away once more, his whisper bouncing off the far wall, reflecting, reaching Sungho. “It was so funny, I couldn’t–”
“Jaehyun,” Sungho says again and this time, he does move, he does inch closer, the sticky notes crumpling under the weight of his arm.
“Sungho,” Jaehyun says with a heavy sigh.
“You are so frustrating sometimes,” Sungho bites out. “I just don’t understand you, you know?”
Jaehyun’s eyebrows knit together but when he pivots around again, his face melts into a soft smile. He looks at Sungho, the barest flickers of moonlight slanting across his eyes.
“Then don’t try to understand me,” Jaehyun says, his tone taking on a teasing edge, “Yeppi-yah.”
He still sounds fond to his ears.
Sungho makes an annoyed sort of sound and Jaehyun knows he’s getting riled up, that he’s going to only push harder instead of retreating. He should sleep. He should pretend that his exhaustion is immense enough that not even a conversation with Sungho can keep him up. Sungho will not question him, will not get mad.
“Why–” Sungho says, hesitating, the syllable stretching out with uncertainty. “Why did you not want to sleep here? Does sharing a bed really seem so bad to you?”
Jaehyun laughs, “I thought this conversation was about my fears.”
Sungho doesn’t laugh, “It is.”
Jaehyun goes silent, his gaze on Sungho’s. They’re mirrors of each other in some ways. One too afraid to ask. One too afraid to answer.
“Sungho-yah,” Jaehyun says. “Why did you push me away that day?”
In response, Sungho closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath. There is no surprise, no imbalance at Jaehyun’s query–just a weary confirmation.
“I knew that was the reason,” Sungho says. “I knew you would hold onto it.”
“Was I not supposed to?” Jaehyun asks softly. “You made it clear that you didn’t want us to... that I made you uncomfortable.”
Sungho shifts again. Draws closer. Their breaths are growing consonant, their hollow echoes compounding within the closed-off room.
“And what of everything that I did afterwards? You- you just see what you want to see and miss everything else.”
Jaehyun frowns in thought, something gnawing at the back of his mind. “What do you mean? What - what did you do?”
“I panicked that day,” Sungho confesses and it’s good that he can’t make out his expression because Jaehyun cannot bear to see the guilt on his face. “I just... It was too much? I don’t know. You’ve always been so- so forward, you know? And I didn’t... You just do these things so effortlessly and I can’t do that. It’s not the same process for me. And so I do things I don’t mean–”
“Sungho-yah,” Jaehyun says, stopping Sungho’s spiralling mumbles and shifts closer more resolutely.
More sticky-notes give way beneath his weight. Their boundaries with each other have always been paper-thin and tonight, there is no difference.
“You mean,” he slowly sounds out his words, trying to untangle his own feelings while respecting Sungho’s. “You mean that you didn’t mind it? Me trying to, you know, kiss you?”
There. He said it. He addressed the space between them and now, he only hopes that they will be able to close the gap.
Sungho’s head shakes against the crisp cover of his pillow, making a light scratchy sound. “No,” he says. But, “I didn’t mind it, per se. But I’m not ready for it, either. This week– that’s what I’ve been trying to show you! Why do you think I draped myself all over you in front of the cameras?”
Jaehyun feels his axis shift, his gravity turning upside down. “Exactly because there were cameras in front of us,” he finds himself saying. “I thought... You were just doing a bit. Something goofy, something I shouldn’t put any weight on.”
Sungho makes a frustrated sound again, “I would never do that to you. It’s never been just a bit for us, Jaehyun. Don’t go stupid on me now.”
“Oh,” Jaehyun says. A hysteric sort of laugh bubbles up from his throat, “You could have just told me.”
Sungho maintains a stubborn silence before snapping, “Well, I am telling you now.”
“Yes,” Jaehyun smiles and he’s sure that Sungho won’t mistake it for anything else. “Yes, you are.”
“So...” Sungho says and he’s close enough that Jaehyun can feel his warmth lingering in the slice of space between them. “How exactly do we do this? Can we even pursue this?”
“Why not?” Jaehyun asks.
“See?” Sungho says, huffing a laugh. “You really don’t care about what others will think of you.”
“This is different,” Jaehyun says firmly. “I care about what you think. What our team thinks. But if someone is going to judge me for liking you, then I won’t care. I can’t... cheapen my feelings by letting others affect them, you get that?”
Sungho nods slowly, “Sometimes, you sound so grown-up.”
“Only sometimes?”
Sungho smiles, “I thought our song was ‘But Sometimes’. As the leader, shouldn’t you know our discography better?”
Jaehyun laughs and Sungho joins him, a brief moment in which they feel one emotion, in which they feel like one person.
Sungho’s laughter peters out, a quietness engulfing them once more. His hand rises hesitantly, the air shifting, and it rests on the side of Jaehyun’s face, a thumb caressing the skin beneath his palm.
“Welcome back, Jaehyunie,” Sungho whispers with a smile, as if he’s fighting an embarassed expression, as if he’s allowing himself these words in the false anonymity of the night.
For Sungho, vulnerability takes a different shape and size than Jaehyun. For Sungho, being too honest, too sweet, too complimentary, too earnest – that can be vulnerability, too. Because he doesn’t always enjoy exposing how much he holds another person in high regard, how much he values them. It can become daunting for him and even if Jaehyun’s never understood that about Sungho, he’s known that about him.
Jaehyun smiles too, his own hand coming up to wrap around Sungho’s wrist, his cheek pressing into the warmth of Sungho’s skin, “Thanks.”
They’re looking into each other’s eyes now, lying on their sides, centimetres apart. This time, Jaehyun doesn’t lean in first but Sungho does, and there is no push or pull, just them meeting each other halfway, their lips gentle and sweet, a relief melting away the tension in their limbs.
When they part, Jaehyun searches Sungho’s face, tries to see through the milky light filtering through their window.
“Was that okay?”
Sungho answers with another kiss, this one more probing, more searching, their fingers spider-light against each other’s too-warm skins. Goosebumps litter Jaehyun’s body as he pushes himself upright, one arm looping through Sungho’s neck to deepen their kiss, another resting squarely around his waist, closing the distance between them. Sungho’s hands traverse gracefully under his shirt, his touch not crazed but fleeting, as if he’s still not sure what’s wrong and what’s right.
“God,” Sungho breathes as they pull apart, their cheeks flushed, their lips tinted, their hair tousled under their frantic pulls. “Didn’t think you’d be such a good kisser.”
Jaehyun bites his lip and grins, “I had pretty low expectations from you myself, Yeppi.”
“What do I need to do for you to stop calling me that?”
“Well...” Jaehyun says, cocking his head to the side. “For starters, another kiss would earn a point in your favour.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Sungho says. “I’ll not only let you kiss me but I’ll also let you date me.”
Jaehyun grin widens, “Let me? That’s quite the arrogant phrasing, Yeppi-yah.”
Sungho shrugs under the hold of his embracing arm, “Is that a yes?”
“Obviously,” Jaehyun says with a fond roll of his eyes. “But you’re delusional if you think I’ll stop calling you Yeppi because of that.”
“Jaehyun,” Sungho chides but there’s a smile in his voice.
Jaehyun leans in again and steals a quick kiss, “Do you think we can hide this for a bit or will they just immediately know tomorrow morning?”
“Riwoo might know,” Sungho says. “Woonhak will pretend that this–” he gestures vaguely between them, “–is his hallucination. Or his nightmare. Taesan and Leehan will eventually catch on.”
Jaehyun hums and finally, pulls away, resting back down next to Sungho, no space between them, their shoulders in contact. Sungho entangles their arms, their fingers threading together and both of them stare at their hands, too content to let sleep take over just yet.
“What...” Sungho says, his voice less sure than before. “What about the cameras, Jaehyun? What if they capture something they shouldn’t?”
Jaehyun squeezes his hand reassuringly, “We’re just doing a bit, remember? Just a tasteful little sprinkle of fan service.”
Sungho laughs, the doubts crumbling at the bright sound.
“We’ll figure it out together,” Jaehyun says, feeling all his inhibitions melt away, feeling relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt in weeks.
Sungho nods and lowers their connected hands onto his chest, places them above his heart, his other hand firmly closed around them.
He closes his eyes.
“Good night, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun throws a leg over Sungho’s, smiling when he’s not shoved away, when Sungho scoots even closer. His eyelids shut close, a happy sigh escaping his lips, his world narrowed down to the person beside him.
“Good night, Sungho.”