Work Text:
The first time it happens, it’s because Sungyeol left his wallet at home. They’re at a restaurant, some tiny place where no one could find them at 3:00 AM on a Tuesday, eating samgyeopsal and drinking soju at a table just for the two of them. The meat’s hot and flavorful and the soju is strong, so maybe it’s the alcohol that plants the seed in Myungsoo’s head. Each laugh goes on for hours, the kimchi is endless, and Sungyeol’s never been so obfuscated and joyful and touchy-feely, or perhaps Myungsoo’s never been this drunk. They’re charming, drunk, maybe they’re planning to leave but Myungsoo’s not sure at this point, either way, Sungyeol gesticulates wildly for the bill and then groans when he realizes he has no money on him.
“It’s in my other pants,” Sungyeol explains in so many words. “Sorry, my bad, it was dumb of me not to wear them, I’ll pay you back I swear-” He tends to ramble when he’s drinking.
Myungsoo just laughs and says he’ll pick it up this time. He takes the bill from Sungyeol, scanning it quickly. He always checks to make sure the amounts are added up correctly, and in his current state he has to use his index finger to ensure the numbers stay still while he counts them. They want to crawl around like ants on the page.
Well it looks like the math is fine, and it’s not that expensive, and it’s not like Sungyeol hasn’t paid for Myungsoo loads of other times, being older and all, and besides. Myungsoo realizes, pondering the suddenly gravitous matter over another shot, he doesn’t mind paying for Sungyeol at all. In fact, the longer he gazes at the swaying bill, the more he feels happy that he’s able to give something to his friend this way. Myungsoo can’t explain it, and he expects the feeling to go away when he isn’t drunk anymore but there is something so rewarding about seeing two orders of food and drink on the bill instead of just one.
He’s able to pay, he wants to do it, and so he gives it as freely as a gift.
“I’ll pick up the next one,” Sungyeol says, carelessly filling another shot glass before Myungsoo can move to pour for him. His neck elongates as he tosses it back and Myungsoo’s eyes feast upon the motion of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
No you won’t, Myungsoo thinks.
:::
He sees this shirt one day that tugs at his heart as he passes it in the window. Inside the store, he browses around, picking up a black sweatshirt, some black high-tops that have a different shoelace than the pair he has at home, feinting at making other purchases even though his only audience is himself (oh, and the fans now crowding his every move).
After browsing every single item that personally might interest him for over half an hour, at last he has no other excuses to make.
“Ma’am? May I see the shirt in the window?”
The salesperson obliges and delicately lifts one off a high shelf with a metal contraption. Myungsoo holds his breath the whole time it’s coming down, other potential purchases all forgotten in the shopping cart at his side.
Once he feels it in his hands he knows he has to buy it. For Sungyeol, of course. It has a quirky design of a robot on the front, and it’s slim-cut and smooth to touch. Measuring with his eyes, Myungsoo knows it will fit him, no small feat since Sungyeol always has trouble finding shirts and pants that are long enough for him. Myungsoo could drown in the expanse of fabric. He wants Sungyeol to wear it so he can hug him and have the fabric caress his cheek when he props his head on Sungyeol’s shoulder. It’s perfect, and he can afford it.
He picks up another black T-shirt for himself so that it doesn’t seem like he went into a shop just to buy one overpriced T-shirt for Sungyeol, since that would of course be ridiculous, and because a sensible person can never have too many black T-shirts. Hopefully Sungyeol won’t see the fantaken pictures before Myungsoo can give him the shirt in person.
Sungyeol puts it on immediately when Myungsoo gets back. The shirt slinks onto his torso, skimming over his chest and waist to stop just below his belt. The fit is great. It’s a pretty dark blue color, contrasting delightfully with the current feathered auburn of his hair.
“Why’d you get me this? It’s awesome!” Sungyeol twists his head over his shoulder to look at the back, bending his elbow at an impossible angle to try and rip the tag out.
“Here, let me do that.” Myungsoo gets scissors and carefully cuts the tag out in two neat snips without touching Sungyeol’s skin.
“Man, I owe you,” Sungyeol says, showing all his gums as he observes himself in the full-length mirror, tilting his body from side to side.
“You don’t owe me. And I guess I don’t know, just thought it would look good,” Myungsoo says, and none of that is a lie.
Sungyeol wears it every day for the next week, supposedly “forgetting” each new morning that he’d worn it the day before. Hoya pulls it off him, claiming the smell is contagious. Myungsoo can’t stop smiling.
:::
Sungyeol does remember the next time they’re out for a meal, much to Myungsoo’s dismay. They’re at a small cafe and fans are swarming the windows to get a peek of the “sooyeol couple”, but the cafe is a long-standing family-owned business and luckily they’re refusing to seat any more than capacity, for which Myungsoo is grateful. He’s grateful not to have the phones pressed to his sunglasses, but Sungyeol’s angry that they need to feel grateful for basic human decency. They only have to do ten signatures or so during the course of their meal, but as the previous diners leave and fans start to fill up the empty seats, they start to wrap up.
That’s when Sungyeol tries to pay.
“We were drunk,” Myungsoo says. “I thought you ended up paying that time.”
“Nuh uh. I wasn’t that bad, I’m pretty sure I remember-”
Myungsoo sets his wallet on the table. “No, I’m sure.”
Sungyeol gives him a weird look; his mouth gently opens and his eyes narrow. Myungsoo hasn’t seen Sungyeol direct that look at him before, but then again, Myungsoo isn’t usually this staunch about dining. “Fine. I don’t get it, but if you want to, it’s not like I mind.”
So Sungyeol knows that Myungsoo just wants to take care of it for his own reasons, and that’s fine.
Then they both can relax. Sungyeol actually looks happy the entire way home, and Myungsoo’s 66.67% sure it’s not all for the fans tracking their every move.
:::
Myungsoo starts to buy snacks that he knows Sungyeol likes, delighting in Sungyeol’s open-mouthed eating face. Sungyeol starts getting breakouts from stress as their scheduled appearances pick up, and Myungsoo gives him a new facial cleanser. When he finds sales for reasonably priced brands he starts looking for things in both their sizes.
Myungsoo finds himself shopping for jeans online at irrational hours in the morning, searching by Sungyeol’s size, and he starts to think maybe he should pull back. Sungjong has started giving him these weird pity looks when he occasionally comes home with shopping bags (some of those purchases really are for himself, too!). But why though? Myungsoo has enough money to afford these purchases, so he’s not going out of his established budget. In fact his expenses haven’t changed, he’s just diverted more of his funds away from himself and towards Sungyeol.
And it’s not all about buying things, either. Myungsoo has found ways to do other things for Sungyeol as well. When he does laundry, he throws Sungyeol’s darks in with his darks, and Sungyeol’s whites with his whites. When they eat ramyun at home, Myungsoo washes up for them both (actually... that’s not much of a difference, because Sungyeol hates doing dishes). Sungyeol doesn’t act too different, but he wears and uses the things Myungsoo buys, and he appears to like the extra downtime, which all pleases Myungsoo just fine.
“I have candy,” Myungsoo says slyly. “Do you want some?”
“They’re not salty this time, right?” Eyes fixed on the computer screen, Sungyeol reaches into the bag. He chews a whole mouthful and chokes. “What? Did I do it wrong?” Myungsoo asks.
“No, it’s just… These are my favorite kind.”
Is that it? “Yeah,” Myungsoo says, not understanding what he’s getting at.
“How did you know that?” Sungyeol asks, turning to face Myungsoo. .
I remember everything you say. “I remembered. You said it one time.”
Sungyeol gives him the same strange, unreadable look.
:::
Myungsoo decides to wait a while before he gives his next gift, but he wants to make it a big one. He isn’t great at secrets, but he is good at planning. So he purposefully skips Sungyeol’s birthday gift, chipping in for the private cake the members buy him (and that they try to shove in his face) but he doesn’t buy anything else, and if Sungyeol notices he doesn’t say a word.
“Here,” Myungsoo says when they’re far off the runway, and then he sings, and then he presents the laptop, exactly as planned.
Truly surprised, Sungyeol smiles, and it’s as genuine as it ever gets in public. He windmills his arms. The fans, the fans.
Myungsoo matches his grin, waving the laptop in the air. They are probably being filmed by 100 crappy mobile cameras, in an airport.
Their team ushers them into the van, and Sungyeol and Myungsoo plop themselves down.
“What if I don’t want it?” Sungyeol asks casually, his happy expression settling down. Sungjong, who had seen the whole debacle, reacts strongly in the backseat, jerking his head to face Sungyeol. Myungsoo sees him clench his fist. “What kind of question is that, hyung?” Only Sungjong can make an honorific term sound like a snarl.
Myungsoo’s mouth twitches to one side. He’s surprised, but he’s also surprised to find that the rejection of the gift doesn’t necessarily hurt. It’s not anything personal, it’s not like Sungyeol’s rejecting him, it’s more like… well if it’s the wrong gift, then it’s simply the wrong gift. It’s not Sungyeol’s fault for not liking it. If he doesn’t want it, then Myungsoo would never force him to accept or pretend to like something he doesn’t like, because that would be dumb.
Myungsoo pauses and thinks. “Well, then I’ll return it.” He licks his lips. “What do you want, then? Since I still want to give you a birthday gift. Maybe a different model? Or something smaller? What about clothes?”
Sungyeol briefly smiles, and he looks down at the product in his hand. “I was just kidding. I want it. Thanks.” Sungjong still looks like he wants to hit him, and Myungsoo has no idea why. He reclines back in his chair, feeling glorious.
:::
Sungyeol slowly transitions computers to using only the one Myungsoo gave him. It operates faster and smoother and the illegal downloads go twice as fast, so Sungyeol is on it all the time.
“I just don’t know what you want from me,” Sungyeol says one time after Myungsoo's cleared the table they both ate on. “I don’t have anything to give you.”
“I don’t want anything, it’s not like blackmail or anything. It just makes me happy to give you stuff. Or do stuff. I don’t know…” Myungsoo feels particularly inarticulate. Sungyeol gives Myungsoo lots of things, they’re just not in the same form. How is he supposed to say that, though, when Sungyeol doesn’t even recognize some of his strengths as strengths?
“And you’re sure?”
Myungsoo chuckles in disbelief. “Yeah, I mean I’ve been doing it for like a year. Unless,” he adds, “you change your mind about it. I mean I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Myungsoo quickly wonders if he’d had it wrong the whole time, brow furrowing with worry as he wonders if he's been making Sungyeol uncomfortable this whole time and Sungyeol was too... shy or something to say anything about it, even though that doesn't sound like Sungyeol at all.
Just as fast, Sungyeol jumps in to quell his doubt, “No no, no it doesn’t. Don't worry like that, I really like it all. All of it, seriously. I guess there’s just something I don’t get.”
Myungsoo is reassured in the way that only Sungyeol can make him feel. He waits for him to say what that 'something' is, but Sungyeol walks away.
:::
Sungyeol's energy picks up, he tousles Myungsoo’s hair more often, and the swelling in Myungsoo's chest blooms just like the first time.
:::
They go out for coffee, and Myungsoo pays. They have bibimbap, and Myungsoo pays, the old excuse of telling Sungyeol that he paid last time long discarded, the new order accepted, but never discussed.
:::
Myungsoo never has to think twice to put down his card anymore. They put on their heavy coats, Sungyeol’s blue and Myungsoo’s black, and he feels Sungyeol’s hand upon his arm as they stroll outside. Myungsoo reaches out instinctively to try to hold his hand, but he grasps thin air.
“Can we just talk about-” Sungyeol stops his own sentence, glancing around. He waves at a few stray fans eyeing them voraciously.
“Talk about what?” Myungsoo sees them, but they’re not close enough yet to overhear.
Sungyeol heaves a sigh. “Let’s wait til we get back.”
They walk in near silence apart from the cameraphones clicking in their faces.
Once home, they corral themselves away.
“I have money myself,” Sungyeol says, blunt as always.
“I know that.”
Stumped by the end of that easy line of thought, Sungyeol says, “OK if it’s not that then what. Won’t you get tired of just buying stuff for someone who barely appreciates everything you do. I don’t know your favorite kind of candy. I don’t buy you laptops. I don’t even separate my own laundry. You’re too nice—”
“That’s not true, um,” Myungsoo does like the happiness that flits across Sungyeol’s face whenever he likes a gift that Myungsoo gives. But there are endless more dimensional moments, ones that Myungsoo can’t articulate. It’s not a matter of niceness. And sure, he likes paying for food or drinks. It makes him feel secure to hear Sungyeol’s words of appreciation. Even if it’s just a terse thanks it means a lot coming from Sungyeol (since Sungyeol means what he says).
The words of thanks aren’t all why he does it, though. He likes seeing Sungyeol casually wearing the soft T-shirt or the well-fitting jeans and reveling in the fact that Sungyeol actually likes them. He likes Sungyeol using stuff that Myungsoo got him. It’s almost a domestic feeling, if Myungsoo had a real baseline for that, like the sharing of a toothbrush—He has always thought that to be particularly romantic.
But Myungsoo also likes when Sungyeol has a good voice lesson every once in a blue moon and he comes home singing, so Myungsoo can hear him belting in the shower and absentmindedly humming when he watches TV. He likes that Sungyeol comes home and he says hi to Myungsoo first of all the members, without even thinking about it.
He likes it when his friend is… happy. And he likes being able to see that.
(He could disappear into Sungyeol, make a new home for himself inside his skin, except that would never work because then he couldn’t observe Sungyeol and drink in the very spectacular sight of him. The way he smells, the way he moves, the way he lives.)
Myungsoo can’t explain it in words, but he tries.
Sungyeol listens. His eyes flick down to Myungsoo’s lips and back up to his eyes.
“Then thank you for the gifts,” Sungyeol says, face unreadable, no change in his eyes or his lips or the set of his jawline.
And then his unchanging face is moving closer, and it’s nothing like in a movie or a drama or a love song, but Myungsoo leans in, wanting, even though it’s nothing like he imagined.
Myungsoo sighs when his lips meet Sungyeol’s, effectively passing his breath to Sungyeol’s mouth. They lean in to explore, and Myungsoo presses his lips to the corners of Sungyeol’s mouth and then the wet center where his lips open. Sungyeol’s hands are around his waist and climbing up his back and Myungsoo melts, drools. Sungyeol has a lot of bony parts and his elbow glances lightly off Myungsoo’s rib, and Myungsoo gasps at the contact.
His chest is fit to burst. He feels full and sated in their closeness, endless points of attachment.
Sungyeol’s mouth trembles, and Myungsoo feels the vibrations down to his knees. Sungyeol’s nails scramble at his back, jagged since he bites them so often. Myungsoo presses further, feeling his nose hit Sungyeol’s awkwardly, and Sungyeol breathes out like a laugh, offsetting the mood.
“Wait,” Myungsoo says, and Sungyeol pulls back.
All the hairs on Myungsoo’s body stand on end, the thick permed hairs on his head, the wisps on the back of his neck, and even the tiny ones that scale along his forearms. His face feels hot like he’s sweating from a difficult workout, but his forehead is dry.
Knowing with desperation that he’s saying some kind of right thing even though he feels awful about it, like he’s making a mistake or a betrayal, Myungsoo says, “I don’t need you to like me back.”
Sungyeol pauses. His fingers touch his lips and drop to his lap. “...I think I want to.”
Want to kiss me? Or want to like me back?
“Yes, but,” Myungsoo shifts his eyes to the side. “You sure?”
For once, apparently Sungyeol doesn’t have any words to say.
“I don’t mind waiting. I don’t need anything. This, how it is, it’s fine. I’m happy,” Myungsoo continues, telling the truth.
“I dunno what I’m doing.”
“I don’t have to define it,” Myungsoo says, frustrated. “That’s for other people to do. I just want you to do—whatever you want. Just make sure it’s what you want.” What’s good for you is what’s good for me.
Sungyeol’s face relaxes in a way Myungsoo hasn’t seen in a while, the slackening of his full cheeks that signals he’s about to cry. Myungsoo waits for the tears to come, so he can wipe them off or kiss them away or simply spectate, but somehow they don’t materialize. Sungyeol just sits there like a statue. He can be most animated person Myungsoo knows, and also the most unmoving.
Eventually, feeling cramped, Myungsoo lies out on his back, keeping Sungyeol within his sightline. Sungyeol moves, in turn, to pry at the window. With both hands, he forces it open.
“Yeah.” Sungyeol leans on the windowsill. Myungsoo almost wants to laugh, since it’s funny, if this is the way it gets resolved.
“It’s typical.” He doesn’t know if Sungyeol hears him. Myungsoo pushes his jacket sleeves up his arms, feeling hot. The sensation of the kiss sticks to his lips.
He wants to replay it in his mind, re-feel it all, but he’ll have time to do that in days to come.
Sungyeol stares out the window to the street where passerby jaywalk. Evening light glints off his eyelashes. “You ever feel like you’re living two lives?”
Myungsoo looks at Sungyeol.
“No,” he says. “I think I only have one to give.”