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Sporting cheap hair-dye and holding cheap beer, bathed in the cheap glow of Himchan’s poor incandescent bulb on Himchan’s cheap couch, Jongup still manages to ensure that Himchan cannot look away.
The beer is a heavy amber and sloshes flatly in its bottle. Jongup’s hair is bubblegum pink and the tips are on its way towards showing bleach damage – but when he raises the bottle to his lips, the colours swim together and weave themselves into something rich, the image seeping itself deep into Himchan’s memory.
Himchan wonders how drunk Jongup is, because his own focus is fraying with the alcohol. He hopes Jongup too drunk to notice how Himchan is too far gone to school his expression into something less than pure, untainted adoration. He hopes – oh he hopes that Jongup is too drunk to notice the way his eyes are lingering too long on the embrace of Jongup’s lips against the bottle rim, memorizing the blush that is gathering on his cheekbones and trailing the messy waves of his pink hair. He hopes Jongup is too drunk to notice how his fingers are twitching with the desire to brush against the loose collar of Jongup’s thin t-shirt, how he keeps worrying his lips as he imagines pressing them to the birthmark that dots Jongup’s nose.
Two years ago, Jongup had scoffed good-naturedly as Himchan continually layered on his affection through shameless touching, kissing and unrelenting declarations of love.
But back then, Himchan had not – was not –
Two years ago, Himchan had not entertained the possibility that his antics would be any different from the touching, kissing and loud, obnoxious ‘I love you’s he besotted – still besots -onto Junhong or Youngjae.
But, sometime over the past two years, his touches had become weighted with intent. His kisses stopped peppering Jongup’s cheek as he begins to dream of pressing them to Jongup’s lips. Every time Himchan reaches out, he can’t help but imagine the sweet ache of it passing from his fingertips into Jongup’s skin. Lodges there, broadcasting his intentions.
Two years changes many things, and now it terrifies him to touch Jongup, least he scares him away. The irony isn’t lost on Himchan, he thinks sorrowfully as his eyes trace the outer shell of Jongup’s ear.
“Hyung.”
“Jonguppie” Himchan grins, because no matter what, they still have this.
Jongup puts down his quarter full bottle carefully, then turns to Himchan, expression thoughtful.
And, just like that, Himchan is ensnarled again, unable to look away – the little shake of his head as Jongup flips away a wayward pink strand, the valley of his collar bones and the coy flash of pecs through his loose collar as he levers his body closer, that little quirk of his lips revealing the barest flash of his front teeth–
Himchan realizes that he is going to be kissed much too late for him to do anything except gasp into Jongup’s lips.
And Jongup keeps kissing him.
His own desire is singing under the cheap glow of his cheap light bulb, and he’s breathing wet breaths saturated with want into Jongup’s mouth. He presses himself forward, suddenly frantic, letting Jongup wind his arms around his waist and manhandle him until he’s straddling Jongup’s hard, thick thighs. He manages to whisper a quick “why-?” in between whimpers of “gods, yes” and “Jonguppie” when Jongup begins to mouth at his neck.
“Because I got tired of waiting.” Jongup smiles against Himchan’s suddenly uncontrolled pulse.
“I– you–“
“Hyung, you were staring at my lips for a full five minutes. I timed it.”
“Oh.” Is all Himchan can think of to say. For a moment, he had thought – but the vague disappointment is brushed away as Jongup kisses him again, under his jaw. Himchan can feel the flex of Jongup’s arm against his hip through his shirt and jeans as he is hoisted up for a better angle – and that shouldn’t be hot, except it is.
And then, miraculously, they are kissing again. They kiss until Jongup places both his hands on Himchan’s cheek, and grips the curve of his jaw, firmly coaxing Himchan’s gaze, as if Himchan has any choice other than to desperately seek Jongup with his eyes.
“You- you used to touch me all the time, and I didn’t know what to do.” Jongup confesses, and Himchan feels something like the beginning of an explosion inside his ribs.
“By the time I was certain… you’ve stopped, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be … welcomed.” Jongup says.
“Until a few moments ago.” Jongup says.
“I’ve liked you for a long time, hyung.” Jongup says.
And at that moment, Himchan knows Jongup is magical. Because Jongup does all the right things and say all the right words and reaches into Himchan with no fuss and pushes all the right buttons.
“Me too.” He smiles, the confession a whisper seeping sweetly from his heart, dropping into Jongup’s waiting lips.