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It’s on a freezing Friday night when Jaehyun remembers that he had left his jacket back in the studio.
The realization seeps into him slowly unlike the cool breeze that greets him the second he pushes open the back door, so startling cold Jaehyun could have sworn there was frost dusting his heels into a stop. Jaehyun shivers. He reaches inside his backpack for his jacket - the one his mother bought for him on his sixteenth birthday, the bright yellow fading into a much gentle shade, soft and worn - but his hand only grasps for air.
Jaehyun groans when he realizes he has to go all the way back to the sixth floor.
“Idiot.” He mutters under his breath, wrapping both arms around his body, slamming the door behind him as he shuffles back inside. One of the guards looks up at him curiously and Jaehyun stiffly nods at him, face flushed in embarrassment. He practically runs all the way to the elevators, clutching the straps of his bag with long rushing strides.
The floor is empty by the time he gets there, much as he left it. It’s a long corridor, white and pristine and holding an endless list of doors that Jaehyun himself doesn’t know of, has never stepped foot. It’s a relatively new building and there’s still so much he hasn’t discovered, he had come to realize. Back then, before they moved, he used to know every crook and cranny of the building, had memorized it like the back of his hand. It never fails to leave a somewhat bittersweet taste in his mouth whenever Jaehyun thinks of it.
He makes a mental note to explore again when he’s less busy.
It takes Jaehyun less than five minutes to find his jacket, grunting when he sees it lying on the floorboard, forgotten. He grabs it and plans to make a quick escape to the elevators again, closing the large door behind him when he suddenly catches sight of something at the farthest end of the corridor, near the emergency stairs. Light.
There’s light seeping from beneath one the heavy doors of the recording studio, startling him on his heels. His mind practically moans at this. Why are you stopping? It grunts. Keep walking! Don’t stop now!
Jaehyun doesn’t blame it for one bit - he is exhausted; head to toe wailing for a bed to rest on, a shower to sooth the aching limbs, a pillow for his head to rest and his eyes to flutter into sleep. He should be the only left in the building by now, Jaehyun was sure of that - he had been practicing for the past four hours, his members leaving him behind in a favour of a good night rest.
Apparently he wasn’t alone at all, huh.
Jaehyun stands in the empty hallway and waits for it - the loud thumping sounds blaring from the speakers, quiet voices discussing - but his ears catches nothing, not even the sliver of a noise.
It’s silent. There’s light seeping from beneath the doors but it seems like no one is there.
Someone probably forgot to switch off the lights, Jaehyun thinks. Not that it matters. He’s been guilty of doing the same thing once or twice in a rush to get back. The door knob turns under his palm when Jaehyun reaches for it and just as he’s about to push it open, he halts at the sight that greets him.
This particular recording studio is one of the newest ones and it’s obvious from the still intact paintings of the walls and just the overall pristine conditions of the studio. It’s large - larger the one they used to record some of their predebut tracks - and practically empty. The room is cool, enough that Jaehyun shivers a little, and when he shoves the door wider, it’s mostly blanketed by the dark save for the first few lights nearest to the door.
In the corner of the room, completely oblivious to his surroundings, is Taeyong.
The raven haired leader sits on the leather couch, his back to Jaehyun as he hunches over something on his lap, focused. He’s got his socks on, red and white stripes, and his legs are crossed over the other, shoes nowhere to be seen. Under the muted lights, the dancer is clad in the same dark blue sleeveless top and sweats Jaehyun had seen him in earlier but this time he’s wrapped up in a grey jacket, hilariously huge on his small frame, the sleeves falling helplessly over his fingers.
Soft kind hands spills into his vision, small and gentle as the fold over his, angry tides falling at his feet like a forgotten memory. Jaehyun blinks, pushes it away.
When he jolts back into the present, it takes Jaehyun a second to realize that that something on Taeyong’s lap is a book. A black leather one, worn at the edges and ink stained where Jaehyun can see from where he’s standing. Taeyong’s hands are tight gripped on a blue open, filling the pages of his notebook. His hyung doesn’t look up, doesn’t grace his presence with a nod or a look, and Jaehyun doubts he even realizes that he’s being watched.
And maybe it’s wrong; maybe he shouldn’t be here, witnessing something that’s so strangely vulnerable, unworthy of this...privilege but Jaehyun takes his time. Stands still by the door and just watches.
It’s stupid, really. It’s isn’t like this is the first time he’s seen his hyung like this. They’ve known each other since Jaehyun was a fresh out of middle school brat and Taeyong was the gangly shy teenager that half the trainees kept whispering about, so awkwardly endearing with his long bangs and wide eyes as they both anxiously but excitedly took in to this entirely new world. At this point Jaehyun has seen Taeyong at every stage.
He’s seen his hyung at his finest, sweat dripping down the side of his neck as he stands tall under the blaring spotlight, eyes watering, mouth lifted into a wide adrenaline pumping grin. Has caught him in the studio, every fucking day, panting in front of the mirror, sleep be damned. Has witnessed him holding back broken sobs when no one is looking, crying, croaking, I can’t do this, Jaehyunnie. I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I fucking can’t.
But for no fucking reason Jaehyun can think of, for absolutely zero fucking sense, this reduces him into a breathless mess. Because Taeyong...Taeyong is ethereal.
His hyung is gorgeous, his silhouette stark against the tiles from where the dim light cascades across his features. His eyebrows, as Jaehyun suspected, are furrowed, lips pursed into a tight thin line as he scribbles furiously into the leather notebook on his lap, one sock clad foot tapping rhythmically against the floor.
The rapper pauses momentarily, eyes fluttering close as he loses himself in his thoughts, head hang back, and not for the first time Jaehyun is envious. He too wants to lose himself in that labyrinth, wants to peek in and see the depths of his hyung’s mind, wants to be the only one allowed.
He’s learned a while ago that he’s greediest when it comes to his Taeyong hyung.
Their little reverie snaps, however, when Jaehyun’s phone suddenly rings, startling the younger from his daze, almost dropping his phone in his haste. He doesn’t answer the call, immediately rejecting it only to realize a second too late that the call was from one of the managers. “Shit.” He mutters before his head screeches back into the present. “Shit.” Jaehyun looks up.
Taeyong stares back at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Jaehyun?” Taeyong mumbles. He breaks into a yawn, rubs a fist against his eyes. Cute.
"Hey, hyung.” Jaehyun raises a hand. He feels awkward, probably looks awkward too.
He stands there by the door, hesitating on whether he should step in or not, whether he’s even invited, when Taeyong waves a hand. “How long have you been standing there?” He mumbles behind another yawn, arms stretched out. He looks like a cat, all lithe and lazy and sleepy and the urge to take out his phone is insatiable, fingers itching to capture it. Jaehyun splutters instead. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Taeyong lifts an eyebrow at that, the upturned of his lips a little too cheeky, a little too knowing as he shifts the book away from his lap. "Eh, don't deny it, Jaehyunnie." the leader chuckles, patting at the empty spot beside him. "You're never as subtle as you think you are!"
"Hyung!" Jaehyun whines, stomps even, and he knows he sounds like a petulant child but, really, he can't help it when Taeyong treats him like this. He plops himself on the sofa, pouting and glaring and Taeyong cackles obnoxiously, body shaking with mirth.
It's so endearing Jaehyun has to bite back a smile to keep up with his sulking front.
When Taeyong finally calms down from laughing, he does it with a deep sigh and casually leans his head against his arm, the one draped behind the sofa. Jaehyun sinks lower in his seat. “I didn’t know you stayed behind too, hyung. Aren’t you tired?” He murmurs, tilting his to the side to stare at the older member. He snorts when Taeyong rolls his eyes at him rather exaggeratedly. Drama queen.
“Idiot.” Taeyong scolds. “You should be asking yourself that too.”
Jaehyun sticks his tongue out.
Chuckling at the childish reaction, the raven haired folds his legs underneath him, seeking for warmth. It knocks their knees together. “I was planning to go back with the rest of the guys. But I bumped into one of the producers on my out and I couldn’t resist, I guess.” Jaehyun hums, looks down. Typical of Taeyong hyung. If he’s not dancing himself to death in the dance studio, he’s in here instead. “And Mark?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. Taeyong smirks.“In bed. He wanted to tag along but like hell I’d allow that.”
Jaehyun laughs.
“How was practice?” Taeyong asks, quiet. He’s looking down too and if Jaehyun didn’t know any better, he would think that his hyung is staring at their hands, wondering whether he should hold them or not.
“It was OK.” Jaehyun settles on.
“Yeah? Why did you stay back, anyway? I thought you did great earlier.”
“Just because. Still can’t seem to get certain moves right, though. Looks awkward.”
Taeyong nudges him with his shoulder. “You’ll get it right. You always do.”
“Maybe.”
They settle into silence, Jaehyun looking away when he feels Taeyong’s stare at the side of his face. He should be used to it. His hyung, a walking contradiction, shifts between anxiously avoiding people’s gazes or staring at them with unwavering attention, wide dark eyes imploring and inquisitive, always sending the recipient into a nervous mess
Right now for instance. Taeyong’s eyes are knowing and that unsettles Jaehyun, makes his skin crawl. He changes the topic.
“Are you writing down lyrics, hyung?”
A pause. “Kind of?” Taeyong scrunches up his nose. He caresses the edge of his notebook with a thumb, back and forth, back and forth. “They’re just beats and words I can’t get rid of. It’s pretty bad...”
“I bet they’re not.”
“What makes you say that?”
Jaehyun shrugs, levels a look at his hyung’s direction. “Because it’s you, and pretty much everything you write is good.” And he means it. So far, everything Taeyong and Mark have presented to the producers have been welcomed and encouraged, their crafts only needing a few mends here and there before it’s finalized and ready to be recorded.
And Jaehyun knows it’s a big deal. Has heard it being passed down when he walks the corridor; about the barely one year old rookies that the company has seem to favour, catching glimpse of the bitter upturn of their lips when they come to congratulate, feels the slight clench when their hands meet. And he knows Taeyong knows it too.
His hyung shrugs. “Maybe.” And then he lays his head on his shoulders and suddenly Jaehyun forgets how to breathe.
The room is cool but all Jaehyun feels is the simmering heat brushing past his pulses where their shoulders are touching, so fucking familiar it almost aches. Taeyong’s hair pokes at his jaw and if he leans in a little, he’ll catch the summer whiff of his shampoo, coconut and sweet and so, so good.
Jaehyun closes his eyes and all he sees is soft hands, small and gentle, intertwined with his very own. A cool breeze whispers past his ear.
“Hyung.” Jaehyun says. His eyes are open now, keen on the sleepy man beside him. Taeyong hums. “Remember when Hansol hyung took us to Busan, around Chuseok? We stayed there for like two nights I think.”
“It was two years ago, right?” The elder pauses, throws a curious gaze at Jaehyun. “What about it?”
“Nothing.” Jaehyun lies, determination wavering. “I just remembered how nice it was.”
“Jaehyunnie...”
Taeyong is staring at him again and the younger one internally curses because his eyes are knowing and concerned and Jaehyun wishes more than anything that he wasn’t such an open book around his hyung. Jaehyun closes his eyes again
“I’ve always wanted a house on a beach, you know? Somewhere near the shore.”
“I didn’t know that.” Taeyong says, surprised. Jaehyun nods.
“Yeah. I even dreamt of the house once. A couple of months ago?”
It was in October, three months after that warm summer night. “Tell me about it.” Taeyong demands. The smaller man curls up against him, head practically leaning entirely against his chest, so close. The tropical scent is even stronger now. “Tell me about the dream, Jaehyunnie.”
Jaehyun smiles. He could never really say no to Taeyong anyway.
“It was nothing.” He starts, leans further back against the wall and wraps a loose arm around the elder’s waist. They fit just nice, of course. “It was just a beach, a wide empty beach in the middle of nowhere. Just the ocean and the sun. There was a house, too - white, like ones we see in those American movies, remember? Yeah. It was white and huge and had large windows and a veranda. The veranda was empty too, I think, I can’t remember. Anyway, remember the sunset we saw in Busan? It was the exact same sunset in my dream and God, hyung, it was beautiful.
“In the dream, I remember that every day I was lucky enough to wake up to the sounds of the waves lapping at my feet, cold but warm. I remember that I’d never go to bed unless I saw the sunset, and after I did, I remember feeling happy. Just really fucking happy. It was just the beach, hyung. A house near the beach, but to me, it felt like everything, you know? It was so beautiful...”
He trails off, wistful, embarrassed. When Jaehyun sneaks a peek, Taeyong is looking at him and it’s fond and sad and happy and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He looks away.
“That’s a beautiful dream, Jaehyun.” Taeyong says, honest.
Jaehyun smiles. “You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“You were in it too, hyung. The dream.” Jaehyun blurts out. “You were with me on that beach.”
That renders Taeyong quiet, eyes widening. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just stares at Jaehyun with unreadable eyes, mouth pulled into a tight unsure line. “What was I doing, Jaehyun?” He asks, hesitating. Jaehyun doesn’t blame him. “Nothing.” He answers. “Everything. We held hands and we didn’t let go. We didn’t want to.”
They’re whispering, he notes, voices soft and low and intimate. The silence is deafening, tension thick and palpable, a tangible something hanging between them. Should I cut it, he wonders. Cut it, and end it and accepts the fall that follows? He looks to Taeyong and his stomach drops. Taeyong, he realizes with a start, is so close, Jaehyun could practically count his eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones, feel his breathe against his own lips. He’s beautiful.
“Jaehyun.” A whisper. Jaehyun is confused. He can’t read Taeyong’s tone at all.
Taeyong keeps staring at his lips, eyes so lost and confused and hopeful, Jaehyun doesn’t know which one is which anymore. His stomach summersaults when Taeyong glances down at his lips again, licking his own. This is it, he thinks. This is now or never.
Jaehyun cuts to the chase. “I want to grow old with you, hyung.”
Taeyong pulls back, speechless. “What--”
“I mean it, Taeyong! I do! Fuck, hyung, can’t you see it? Ever since the beginning it’s always been us - always been you. Look where we are now, hyung. We’re here. We’re here and we’re just starting and it’s scary and I’m fucking terrified but it’s OK, I’m OK, and you know why? Because I have you. Because I know no matter what happens, if I rise or if I fall, you’ll be there. You’ll be there and I’ll be there and we’ll never leave each other, no matter what happens--”
“What--” Taeyong sounds dazed, eyes wide, surprised, so fucking surprised but Jaehyun is relentless. He has to say it. He has to.
“Hyung” he says, “I don’t know what the future holds. I wish I do but I don’t but if there’s one thing I’m positive about is that I want it to be with you. I don’t know what would happen to...to us but I mean it - I want to be with you. If that means until you get tired of me, then I’ll take it. But I want to grow old with you, Taeyong hyung. Silver hair and everything.”
Jaehyun’s panting by time he’s done, heart beating so fast he could feel it against his rib cage, eyes wide. It feels like he’s run a marathon, like he’s done nothing but dance and sing and perform and it’s fucking exhilarating and good but it’s also nothing like that, nothing like performing in front of thousands. It’s scarier, is what it is. Lee Taeyong scares him.
Taeyong, on his part, look as equally as breathless. His mouth hangs open, cheeks sporting the deepest shade of red Jaehyun has ever seen on him. Taeyong’s eyes are wet and for a brief second Jaehyun panics. Shit. This was not how he planned on confessing to Taeyong, shit. “Hyung, look--” He splutters out an apology but he gets cut off.
“Jaehyunnie.” Taeyong says. "Jaehyunnie.”
Jaehyun blinks and there are lips pressed against his, soft, desperate. It takes him a second to kiss back.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this, kissing Taeyong; doesn’t believe he will ever forget the feeling of losing yourself into the sensation, hot, warm, so desperately sweet as their lips brush each other, seeking, a never ending circle of it. Taeyong kisses like he does everything else - gentle but firm, pressing their mouth together, once, twice, until Jaehyun gets too impatient, starts licking into his mouth until he finally coaxes a moan out of the dancer. They’ve never kissed before – Jaehyun has only dreamt of it, different in every sequence, fluttering at time, passionate the next, always leaving him aching when he wakes up later on - and now? Now he’s addicted.
His heart soars and he presses their lips harder.
“Do you love me?” Taeyong pulls away, panting right into Jaehyun’s swollen lips. He looks at him with something akin to desperation, hope swimming into his blown up pupils, tears - of happiness? Of misery? Jaehyun has no idea - pooling at the corner. Jaehyun pulls him back in, kisses both his cheeks. “I do.” He breathes, grins at the way Taeyong shivers at his words, kisses his eyelids next. “So much, hyung - I’m greedy for it.”
“Jaehyun--”
“I need you, hyung.” Jaehyun pecks the tip of his nose, quick, fleeting. He hears a wet gasp.
“Grow old with me.” He murmurs, noses at the crown of his head, breathing him in. He wants to sink into it, drown in the cascade he’s feeling and never resurface. If he has to go, suffocating in Lee Taeyong is worth every fucking minute. Jaehyun presses a gentle kiss there. “Hyung, grow old with me on a lonely beach.”
“Yes.” Taeyong sobs. He clings to Jaehyun harder, shoves his face into the crook of Jaehyun’s neck. “Yes, I’ll grow old with you. Silver hair and everything.”
Jaehyun laughs, pulls him back for another kiss.