Chapter Text
Sungyoon’s growing out his hair.
It’s a little past his earlobes now, tickling Joochan’s neck whenever he flings him at his roommate’s back, drawing snorts of laughter from him whenever he sneaks up to attack.
He quite likes the look, Joochan concludes, tracing the locks that frame Sungyoon’s pretty face with his eyes. Especially since the longer hair means that Sungyoon has taken an interest in investing in an array of hair accessories—from hair ties to hair bands, but most importantly: hair clips.
Metal ones, pastel ones, sparkly ones. Joochan had bought him a collection of them, and the look on Sungyoon’s face when he had opened them up to find them to be ones that were brightly colored and coated in sparkles had been priceless. Joochan had cracked up about it for days.
But even with his initial reaction, the other had quickly taken an appreciation to the clips and their practicality; even now, a shimmery blue clip is fastened above his ear, pulling back the hair from his face as he glares at an instructional manual spread out on the table, attempting to figure out how to put the chair together.
If his hair gets even longer, before long, he’ll be able to tie it back into a short ponytail. Or maybe even a bun. The image itself has saliva pooling in his mouth and he hurriedly swallows it away.
For the time being, he supposes he should begin to hide all the scissors around the house.
“Are you going to help me out with this or are you going to continue to stare at me all day?” Sungyoon’s curt tone brings him out of his reverie and he quickly pretends like he hadn’t been daydreaming about Sungyoon’s longer hair plastered against his sweat-slicked forehead as he pinned Joochan against the wall.
He’s gotten far too comfortable with drifting into thoughts of Sungyoon in front of said person over the last few weeks; indulge any further and Sungyoon is sure to take notice.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” Glancing over at the instruction manual has him blanching—the ant-sized, minuscule writing, dotted with numbers and symbols, looks like a curse. “ That’s supposed to help you?”
Sungyoon lets out a frustrated sound, huffing out a breath that has his bangs swaying. Despite himself, Joochan’s eyes linger on the strands of hair that have fallen out of the clip. “I got this far-“ He points at the partially-built chair, “-but I can’t figure out the rest from here on-“
In all honesty, Joochan isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. No, he’s frowning at the loose chunk of hair instead, fingers twitching with the urge to push it back. God, it really is annoying him...
His urges win and he’s reaching out, catching the hair between his thumb and forefinger to push it out of Sungyoon’s face, tucking it behind an ear. He’s admiring the sight when he registers the eyes on his and his blood chills.
Oh, right.
“O-oh.” His hand withdraws slowly as if to escape Sungyoon’s notice. The tips of his fingers, where he had touched Sungyoon’s hair, seem to burn. “I’m sorry-“
“Thanks.” Sungyoon averts his eyes, focus once more on the manual. “I think I figured out-“
The words are lost to Joochan once more, silenced over the sounds of his pounding heart.