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Chapter Text

To be completely honest, it wasn't something Dongho actively tried to find out. In fact, Dongho thinks he could've lived the rest of his life peacefully without knowing that Hwang Minhyun had the most sensitive ears in the world. That type of information was superfluous, and unnecessary, and did not contribute to his well-being whatsoever.

(He'd kept it saved in his brain anyway — he'd shoved it in his mental 'Minhyun's Annoying Quirks' folder, tucked somewhere in between the 'Minhyun hates whipped cream, therefore he hates happiness' file and 'Aside from his mother, Minhyun doesn't trust anyone with the laundry' file.)

He finds out about Minhyun's interesting quirk early in their trainee days.

They'd been given a thirty minute break during an extremely grueling dance class. Dongho, a trained athlete, had only needed a couple of swigs of water to recover; he'd chosen to sit down and space out on one of the chairs inside the room. Aron-hyung had opened a Korean textbook to review his vocabulary, Jonghyun and Seungcheol had decided to use their break time to polish moves that they had already mastered, while Minki dozed off in the back corner of their dance studio.

Minhyun sits down on the chair beside him. "Borrow your shoulder," he says, before leaning his (big) head against Dongho without even waiting for a response. They'd only known each other for a few months, but those few months were enough for Dongho to figure out that Minhyun was one of those tactile, touchy-feely types with no respect for personal space. Dongho would say they were close friends, close enough for this type of interaction — but, well, invasion of personal space is always weird.

"Why? Lean against a wall or something, Minhyun-ah."

"Your shoulder is comfortable," Minhyun replies, not moving from his spot. Dongho shifts slightly to better accommodate Minhyun's head. "And I need a nap."

Dongho snorts at his friend's lethargy. "Drink more coffee."

"I don't drink coffee, it tastes bad," Minhyun answers simply. Dongho files this in his 'Minhyun's Annoying Quirks' folder, which was rapidly growing in size the longer he hung out with the other boy. "Now shut up and let me sleep."

So he does, even if Minhyun's head was kind of big and kind of heavy. He bears the weight, because, well, what else was he supposed to do for twenty-five minutes anyway? He supposes that he might as well space out while being useful to someone.

He looks down at the sleeping Minhyun on his shoulder and he smiles lightly to himself. Minhyun was... well, he wasn't the prettiest person to look at, to be completely honest, but Dongho concedes that Minhyun's big cheeks and fox eyes held a certain charm. Asleep, Minhyun was peace and quiet personified; awake, Minhyun was the noisiest, the most annoying human being in the world.

Dongho appreciates Minhyun, appreciates the fact that he'd gotten close to someone early in his trainee life. The other boys had also been amazing, but he and Minhyun had clicked somehow, despite their personalities being as different as night and day. Seoul had seemed like a scary place, but he'd realized, thanks to his trainee friends (with a special mention to the most annoying human being in the world), that maybe Seoul wasn't too bad.

He hopes that they can all debut together.

Their dance instructor steps back inside their room to signal the end of their break. Dongho wiggles his shoulder slightly to wake Minhyun up, to no avail, so he leans his head further so that his mouth was lined up with Minhyun's ear and then—

"Minhyun-ah, wake up," he whispers.

Minhyun's head shoots up so fast and so hard, bumping Dongho's nose in the process. It hurt a lot, and Dongho swears he could kill Minhyun. He musters a glare at the other boy, but the moment his eyes land on Minhyun, he notices that his friend's cheeks were dusted with a light pink — and, oh, were his ears bright red?

That was cute.

"Shit, Dongho-ya, I'm sorry," Minhyun says quickly, curling up slightly while enveloping his ears with his hands. "Just—Don't—Are you okay?"

Dongho rubs at his nose, slightly miffed that his benevolent act of sharing his shoulder to a tired friend led to him almost having a broken nose. "I'll be fine, but... why are your ears bright red, Minhyun-ah?" He reaches up slightly to touch the taller boy's ears—

Minhyun stands up, his back ramrod straight, and his eyes — Dongho was used to them being so warm, so friendly, but Minhyun's eyes now were dark as he stares down at Dongho, and Dongho was caught off-guard. What in the world did he do wrong?

"Seonsaengnim is here, Dongho-ya. Let's practice."

He figures that maybe Minhyun preferred to be woken up more... gently? More aggressively? For fuck's sake, all he did was whisper.

On that day, 'Sleepy Minhyun doesn't like whispers' gets archived in his 'Minhyun's Annoying Quirks' folder.

It takes a year for Dongho to realize that it wasn't the whispers that Minhyun didn't like.

Dongho hadn't realized that idol life would be so grueling, had thought that once he’d escaped the hellish trainee period that everything would fall into place and the workload would magically decrease. Trainee life meant having to balance schoolwork and adolescent pains with dance practice and singing lessons; he didn't anticipate that idol life meant having to balance all those on top of early morning music show pre-recordings, photoshoots, variety show filmings, gym sessions to improve his "image" (what the hell did that even mean?), all while attempting to get adequate sleep.

He plops down on their living room sofa, piss-tired and cranky from the pre-recording they'd done early in that morning. He closes his eyes to get a semblance of sleep while waiting for Aron-hyung and Jonghyun to finish showering, finds himself drifting off to dreamland and then—

"Baekho-ya," Minhyun whines. "Would it kill you if you stop bringing your outside shoes inside the house?"

Dongho grunts in response and attempts to continue chasing after his dream of sunset-colored skies and warm Jeju winds. He leans further into the backrest, vaguely registering Minhyun's soliloquy on hygiene and doing their parts to keep the apartment clean and dust bunnies...

"Yah, Kang Baekho, why aren't you listening?"

Dongho's eyes open, annoyed at having his nap interrupted, and sees Minhyun standing in front of him, his torso leaning slightly towards his face, hovering awkwardly with his hands on his hips. He reaches forward and glares murderously at Minhyun, quickly grabbing at the other boy's right ear with the intention to hurt him slightly, not giving him the time to dodge because fuck, couldn't Minhyun see that he was trying to sleep—

Dongho is caught off-guard by the sound Minhyun suddenly makes.

He'd always been good at distinguishing sounds — as a singer he was extremely proud of the fact that he had a good ear for both pitch and emotion. Minhyun's noise was quick, almost fleeting, if he were paying a little less attention, it would've honestly escaped him. But he had noticed — Minhyun, being the annoying nag that he was, always makes small noises of complaint... but that noise? Dongho was one hundred percent sure that it wasn't like the other times the taller boy would grumble.

There was something different about that sound, and Dongho couldn't quite place it, and it bothered him. Dongho looks up and sees Minhyun with red cheeks and a slightly dazed expression; finds that the gears in his head would not stop turning and as the pieces seem to fall into place, he couldn't believe it, it couldn't be that, right?

He realizes that his fingers were still gripping at Minhyun's earlobe, so he loosens his hold slightly and gives an experimental tug—

Ah, there was the sound again.

And it was definitely a moan.

Dongho's eyes widen in realization as he lets go of Minhyun's (now bright red, and extremely warm) ear. He bursts into boisterous laughter. "Hwang Minhyun," he says in between loud guffaws, "You—you—"

Minhyun falls into the seat beside him, burying his face in his hands. "Don't say it, asshole, you were never supposed to find out—"

"Do you get turned on when people touch your ear?!" Dongho asks incredulously.

"Where did you get that idea?" Minhyun hisses, still focused on hiding his red face from his friend. Dongho grins widely at his friend's unguarded state and reaches for the back of Minhyun's ear, stroking lightly at the skin, laughs at the goosebumps he managed to elicit in that split-second of touch and.

And.

Minhyun purrs.

Minhyun fucking purrs from behind his hands and Dongho immediately regrets everything. His face falls, because the sound goes straight to his abdomen and suddenly there was a coiling heat in the pit of his stomach that he did not want to explore, that he did not know how to deal with.

He wanted to hear that sound again.

Dongho did not know what to do about his current want, so he moves his hand back to rest awkwardly on his lap. "So, Minhyun-ah," he begins quietly, unsure of what he wanted to say. "Um. What was that about?"

Minhyun, seemingly recovered from Dongho's touch, glares at him. His face was back to its usual complexion, Dongho notes, but the tips of his ears were still burning red (still cute). "If it wasn't obvious, Dongho-ya," Minhyun starts slowly, his words mixed with a tinge of frustration, "My ears are very ticklish, okay?"

Dongho laughs hollowly. "That's an understatement, you kind of went... crazy, when I touched you there."

Minhyun groans, and Dongho was sure that at least that sound was one of exasperation. "You weren't supposed to find out! And besides, it's not like it should matter to you!"

He's right, Dongho realizes — Minhyun's weakness was the type of information that should be saved for his future girlfriend, or boyfriend, or... well, whatever friend Minhyun decides to have in the future. His eyes gloss over the boy sitting beside him, all giant head and long legs. Dongho thinks that at this point, he really didn't want to be Minhyun's... Minhyun's whatever,  even if Minhyun had cute red ears, even if Minhyun did make the most interesting sounds when the back of his (cute) ears were touched.

Still.

Still—

He leans in quickly before Minhyun can escape and whispers, "Sorry, Minhyun-ah," directly beside Minhyun's ear. Dongho relishes in the small shudder he receives in response; laughs at the way Minhyun sputters out censored expletives while he stomps away from the sofa.

Dongho reclines against the back of the couch and closes his eyes. He updates his mental archive of Minhyun's Annoying Quirks before finally, finally falling asleep to blurry thoughts of a red, red warmth.

Chapter Text

Two years pass and nothing really happens.

Time flies too quickly, and in the blink of an eye, his group was no longer the super rookies that the South Korean media had initially branded them out to be. It had been two years of releasing songs, performing on small stages, participating in fansigns; two years of flying from Korea to Japan to China and then back. Two years of sprinting towards some vague goal — what was that goal exactly, superstardom? — he didn't even know anymore. A bit over seven hundred days of "experience" and people already considered them to be veterans with enough capability to expertly weave through the ins-and-outs of the industry.

Dongho hates it. He'd only just turned twenty earlier in the year.

For other boys his age, twenty was probably all about the excitement of independence and moving out. Twenty meant the heart-pounding anticipation of starting university, or the uncertainties that came with job-seeking. Twenty meant society expected him to act like an adult and to be solely responsible for his actions. Dongho laughs bitterly inside his head. He'd gone through all of those at sixteen — to him, the only important difference between nineteen and twenty was that he was now able to get tattoos and buy alcohol and earn his driver's license. He's gotten a tattoo, and he's on his way to getting his driver's license. He wonders if Minhyun would want to drink with him.

He seeks Minhyun out in their shared apartment. They'd been home alone that afternoon, with the other boys deciding to go out and watch a movie (how they got Jonghyun to leave behind his games was a question Dongho still hasn't figured out the answer to, but, well, Jonghyun always had a soft spot for Minki, so maybe...?) — Minhyun had decided to work his way through his pile of university assignments, and Dongho had spent the entire afternoon alternating between sleeping and overthinking.

He misses trying to catch sleep on the couch in between schedules, misses the way that the company would send them out to music shows, photoshoots, gigs with the After School-sunbaenims. They'd released an album a few weeks ago, and they'd spent so much time working on it, perfecting it, making sure that everything sounded great. He'd been proud, ready to promote the album as if his life depended on it but promos were cut short, and now here he was, trying to con his uptight best friend and get him to drink.

For a so-called veteran idol, his life — their lives — were sometimes too normal for his taste.

He finds Minhyun at the dinner table, hair unruly from having ran his hand through it one too many times. He sees Minhyun frowning at his textbooks, right hand scribbling furiously on a pad of paper, left hand toying with his earlobe.

Sometimes he's taken aback by how much Minhyun has changed.

Changed, at least physically, because Minhyun and his Big Mouth and his Annoying Quirks have remained the same for as long as he can remember. Dongho takes refuge in the fact that he knows Minhyun like the back of his hand (no one, and he's sure no one else in the world has an updated list of Annoying Quirks like he does); that the twenty-year-old Minhyun is exactly the same as the sixteen year-old one he'd met a few years back. Dongho is at least a hundred percent positive that even if the world begins to run away from him, that even if things suddenly start changing at a breakneck speed, his best friend would remain by his side.

Dongho slides up to the space beside Minhyun.

"Minhyun-ah, let's buy food," he says, only because Minhyun would've straight-up rejected him if he said he wanted a drink.

Minhyun looks up at Dongho and smiles brightly. "Convenience store?" Minhyun asks as he stands up.

"Yup."

Minhyun wraps an arm around Dongho's shoulders, picking up his phone and his house keys as he steers Dongho towards the front door. It was too warm for any type of physical contact, but for some reason — the reason being that it was Minhyun, and that is always more than enough — he didn't mind.

He looks up while walking out of their dorm and sees Minhyun up close. It's a view that he should've been used to by now, having been around Minhyun for the better part of the last five years, but lately...

Lately, looking at Minhyun actually, physically hurt.

Minhyun had always been tall, but Dongho is pretty sure he grew at least a few centimeters in the past few months, his frame was larger now thanks to the time they spent at the gym. Minhyun's face went through the most fascinating change, he thinks — the baby fat had melted off to give way to a sharp jawline that perfectly matched his soft brown hair, round cheeks, and big eyes. Dongho regrets ever thinking of Minhyun as average-looking — Minhyun turned out beautiful. In his completely biased point of view, his best friend turned out as the most handsome of the five of them.

Dongho resents him a little bit for growing up so nicely.

Minhyun peers down and pokes his cheek lightly. "You're not talking, what's wrong?"

Dongho frowns and lets the back of his hand slide along the underside of Minhyun's jaw. He watches Minhyun's ears turn light pink from the contact. Minhyun's quirks never change.

"I want your jawline," he says, because there was no use hiding the truth. Why don't I get tired of looking at you? remains unsaid.

Minhyun laughs, mouth open wide, his eyes disappearing to form tiny crescents on his face. He couldn't help but smile back. Minhyun pulls Dongho closer. "It wouldn't suit you, Baekho-ya. You're cute," he answers, but the light pink of his ears didn't escape Dongho's sight. He is sure that the warmth he felt had nothing to do with the hot summer air.

He buys several things, including rolls of kimbap, hard boiled eggs, cups of ramyeon, kimchi, cola, several small bottles of yogurt drinks, and six cans of apple-flavored beer.

"Neither of us drink," Minhyun deadpans, handing over cash to the girl behind the counter. Dongho notices the girl batting her eyelashes while looking at Minhyun with affection dripping from her eyes. Dongho scoffs.

"Yeah, but we can buy these now. And drink these now. Legally," Dongho answers, shoving Minhyun slightly out of the way. He really just wants the transaction to end. He proceeds to get the bag of goods from the cashier, makes it a point to brush his hands with the girl's on purpose. Dongho smirks a little bit at his victory — what the victory was exactly, he wasn't sure. "Come on, Hwang Minhyun, it might taste good. It might be fun."

Minhyun's eyes narrow at how stupid Dongho can be.

His Minhyun's Annoying Quirks mental file was probably one of the most useless things that occupied his brain, but Dongho prides himself in his thorough knowledge of Minhyun's tastes. He'd accumulated everything he knew from around three years of listening to the boy whine when he was forced to eat something he didn't like. Minhyun adored galbi jjim and would marry it if he could; Minhyun liked ice cream but hated whipped cream with a passion. He's known since three years ago that Minhyun hated coffee, that he could function normally without it, and if given a coffeeshop menu he would quickly choose grapefruit-flavored anything. Minhyun was an extremely picky eater, with tastes heavily resembling that of a five-year-old’s. He'd chosen to buy apple-flavored beer for that reason. That, and, well, both galbi jjim-flavored and grapefruit-flavored beer had yet to be invented.

Somehow, he'd managed to convince Minhyun to drink even just one can.

"For fun, Minhyun-ah, we're adults now and we're bored," he'd whined, with a pout and his best puppy-dog eyes that even Minhyun would have a hard time saying no to. Minhyun had agreed just so Dongho would finally fucking stop batting his eyelashes at him.

Minhyun takes a sip, and his eyes widen. "Baekho-ya," he says with a wide smile.

Dongho looks up in the middle of opening his own can. "Hm?"

"This is actually sweet," he replies, chugging what seemed to be half the can in one go. "It's drinkable, Baekho-ya."

Dongho's eyebrows shoot up at Minhyun's drinking speed. He tries it for himself, and Minhyun was right — he'd made a good choice. The flavored beer was sweet, and nice, and filled him with a comfortable warmth...

The cans of beer disappear too quickly.

Dongho finds himself laying down with his head on Minhyun's lap. They were both bright-eyed and red-cheeked at this point, too disoriented to do much else. So this is what too much alcohol feels like, he thinks, and he's so embarrassed at the fact that it only took three cans to knock him out.

Minhyun runs his hands gently through Dongho's hair, humming softly to a familiar tune. Dongho could feel a headache incoming, but he tries his best to focus on the soothing feel of Minhyun's fingertips, tries his best to enjoy the calm moment between him and his closest friend.

There was a thrumming in his veins, a need to do something, anything with his lowered inhibitions. He wanted to reach up, to poke at Minhyun's face, to give Minhyun a giant bear hug, to touch the back of his ear and see if he still made the same sounds as before—

"Baekho-ya," Minhyun says quietly, cutting through the whirring of his own thoughts. Minhyun's hand had crept down; his index finger was now tracing light circles on his neck. Dongho couldn't find it in him to protest. "Don't you think it's unfair?"

"What's unfair?" Dongho answers. Truthfully, he could point out many things that he thought were unfair: Minhyun's handsomeness, the pain nagging at his throat lately, the fact that the company cut their album promotions for no clear reason. Minhyun's light tone betrays the fact that this was nothing deep, that Minhyun was clearly up to no good.

"Unfair that you know where I'm ticklish"—Minhyun moves his hand back up, lets his fingertip slide behind Dongho's ears, and Dongho leans slightly into Minhyun’s touch—"but I have no idea what makes you squirm."

Dongho's eyes follow Minhyun's hand as it trails back down his jaw, his neck; Minhyun traces along his exposed collarbones and Dongho finds himself frozen in his spot. It was true: Minhyun hadn't really managed to elicit any strange sounds from him just yet, but he could feel the goosebumps begin to form in the places that Minhyun had touched, could feel his toes curl at the intimacy, could feel the heat crawl up his chest.

He uses all his remaining self-control to stop the you make me squirm threatening to burst from his lips.

Minhyun had always been touchy with no particular intent — it was a fact of life much like the blueness of the sky — but a Minhyun emboldened by liquid courage is something Dongho hadn't fully grasped a read on just yet. He's fascinated by the way Minhyun lets the back of his fingers slide past his clothed chest, could feel his anticipation rising as it goes down his abdomen. His traitorous mind wants Minhyun to go lower, lower, to where everything suddenly seemed hotter and uncomfortably tight, but Minhyun's hand takes a sharp turn and he lets his fingers splay over Dongho's left hipbone—

Dongho lets slip a small, breathy moan, back arching ever-so-slightly from his position.

Minhyun smirks and cocks an eyebrow. "Oh," he says simply, his tone teasing, and Dongho sort of wants to punch the grin off the taller boy's face, but he felt so embarrassed.

Fuck.

Karma is a bitch.

He remembers Minhyun's words from two years ago, from when he'd messed with Minhyun's weakness for fun. "It shouldn't matter to you!" he snaps, sitting up while echoing Minhyun's words from a not-so-distant memory, attempting to sound exactly like how Minhyun did back then. But as he narrows his eyes at Minhyun he also remembers the way Minhyun's hands had made him feel just a few moments ago, the way he had wanted Minhyun to touch him...

He's not quite sure if he means Minhyun's words in the same way.

If he were completely honest with himself...

If he were completely honest with himself, he wants it to matter to Minhyun.

He blinks, and then swallows thickly at his sudden realization. He hears Minhyun laughing, but even Minhyun's obnoxious laugh was just a faint background noise compared to the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. The faint thrumming in his veins had transformed to a fierce need to do something, to say something, anything...

It takes him two full years and three cans of beer for him to sort his feelings, and Dongho wishes with his whole heart that he could throw these realizations away.

Chapter Text

The realization that he wanted to be with Minhyun was honestly overwhelming.

He'd figured it out one afternoon last year when drunk Minhyun decided to play around with drunk Dongho and drunk Minhyun discovered that Dongho really, really liked being touched in the area just ever-so-slightly under the waistband of his sweatpants. He'd whimpered pathetically then, wanting more of Minhyun's touch, and more of Minhyun's touch in more interesting places.

He remembers walking into his bedroom right after the taller boy had made him squirm, excusing himself from hanging out with Minhyun with a weak "I have a headache" — and he did have one, but it had everything to do with Minhyun and nothing to do with the alcohol he could've easily blamed. He remembers plopping face-down onto a pillow, willing the thoughts, the realizations, the want to dissipate.

They never did, and when Dongho closed his eyes he felt himself swimming in thoughts of Minhyun's fingertips in his hair, Minhyun's soft hums as he traced a path down to his abdomen, and that one wild thought from years back of Minhyun moaning when his hypersensitive ears were touched. He remembers lying flat on his back, remembers hiding his entire torso under the covers, down to the tips of his toes, not wanting his roommates to catch him while he let his hand go down, down, underneath his briefs, lower, until his palm was gripping himself tightly and—

Dongho remembers drowning in thoughts of his best friend, a mix of his imaginations and recollections as he moved his hand up and down, slow then fast and then faster when he imagines Minhyun's mouth moving in the place of his palm. He rememebers wiping himself clean, falling asleep, and remembers dreaming of looking at sunset-colored Jeju skies while holding Minhyun's hand.

It clicked in his mind pretty quickly, because even if he was a hormonal boy who appreciated pretty girls and pretty boys whenever they'd cross his path (or whenever they'd pop up in his late-night internet searches), he had never considered himself as someone who would subscribe to sex without intimacy. He didn't just want to fuck Minhyun, he wanted to be with Minhyun in all senses of the word.

All Dongho wanted was to tell Minhyun that he was the most handsome boy in the planet; that he was kind, charming, smart, talented, and sometimes funny. He just wanted to tell Minhyun that he liked him as more than just a friend, let slip a casual 'maybe we could make out sometime, Minhyun-ah?'

So, sure, Dongho had wanked off to thoughts of his best friend — his beautiful best friend who was damn touchy, the boy who'd keep fueling his imaginations with the way he would drape himself all over Dongho's body to the point that there was probably only one part of his body left that Minhyun hadn't touched. But at the end of the day Kang Dongho was just a damn softie who accidentally fell head-over-heels for Minhyun. He was just a boy who wanted to hold his best friend's hand.

The thing is, the person he fell for was Hwang Minhyun. Thanks to his thorough catalogue of his best friend's personality, Minhyun is definitely one of the few people he's completely figured out.

And Dongho was damn sure that he wasn't Minhyun's type at all. Really, he'd gone and fallen for the person who he knows would shoot him down if — no, once — he confessed and yet.

He wanted to see this through.

He just had to figure out how.

Dongho discovers that Minhyun's mouth tastes like an odd combination of cherry lip balm and mint toothpaste.

Dongho can't remember how he got into this situation with Minhyun on his lap, hands lightly tugging at his hair, his lips pressed against Minhyun's slightly chapped ones. Was this what it meant to see things through? He really wasn't sure.

But he's here with his tongue exploring every nook and cranny of Minhyun's mouth and he finds that he can't complain. To him, everything feels so hazy and the only thing registering in his mind was the sight of Minhyun's eyelashes, cheeks, way too close to his own face; the feel of Minhyun's fingertips moving lower as they trace light circles on his neck; the way Minhyun smelled like a mix of his favorite citrus shampoo and the light musk perfume he always used.

Okay, so there were too many things registering in his mind all at once.

He could feel fire flowing through his veins, need filling him down to his abdomen, to the tips of his toes and — air, he probably needed that too, so he switches their positions and pins Minhyun down against the bed and — wait, they were on a bed? — He moves his mouth to latch onto the juncture between Minhyun's neck and shoulder, kissing down his neckline while relishing in the way Minhyun would breathe sighs of pleasure and utter small praises. He uses his teeth to bite lightly, to mark, but not enough to hurt—

"Dongho-ya," Minhyun whimpers softly. "Baekho-ya, please..."

Please what, Dongho wanted to ask, wanted to get Minhyun to tell him exactly what he wanted him to do even if he had an inkling. But out of the two of them Dongho had never been the more demanding one, so instead he gives in to Minhyun's unspoken request, plants his lips on the underside of Minhyun's ear, in the exact spot Dongho was sure that drove Minhyun insane...

Minhyun lets out a loud moan, body arching involuntarily, causing his torso to press close against the other man's whose face was still buried in the crook of Minhyun's neck.

Dongho really wishes he could see Minhyun come undone at such a simple action.

Despite being pinned down, Minhyun somehow manages to get his lower body to move. Suddenly, Minhyun's hips were shifting upwards, his clothed member moving against Dongho's. How Dongho could describe the moment as delicious was probably questionable when everything was warm, too warm, too uncomfortable; the friction between their lower bodies was too much and not enough at the same time. It was all Dongho could do to quietly, brokenly gasp Minhyun's name out loud.

"Fuck, Minhyun-ah, what are you—, ah, fuck— Minhyun... Min..."

A loud, beeping noise distracts him before he could form a coherent thought.

The loud blaring of his alarm causes Dongho to shoot up from his bed quickly, a fine sheen of sweat coating his face. He felt so numb, and so sticky — he looks quickly under the covers and, oh, well, okay. That explains the stickiness. He buries his face in his hands.

This hadn't been the first time. It hadn't even been the second time.

Dongho lifts his head from behind his hands and looks at the bed beside his. As expected, he sees a freshly-showered Minhyun toweling his hair dry, wearing nothing except for a pair of training pants.

Well. This was definitely the first time it happened with Minhyun around.

And the half-naked Minhyun not even four feet away from him was not helping his situation at all.

"Good morning," half-naked Minhyun says, while peering up at him with wide, curious eyes. "It's your turn to shower."

"No. Five more minutes."

"What happened to you?" Minhyun asks tentatively, a tinge of concern lacing his voice. It's sweet, Dongho thinks, that Minhyun cares so much, but Dongho honestly wants Minhyun to just let this one slide. (He won't, though, because extreme nosiness is just one of Minhyun's Quirks.)

"Bad dream," Dongho answers gruffly, laying back down on his bed and covering his eyes with his forearm. "Now shut up and give me my five minutes." He'd deal with the stickiness later, for now he just wanted half-naked Minhyun to disappear — or to at least wear a goddamn shirt.

He also wanted the world to swallow him whole. This was so embarrassing.

Minhyun hums thoughtfully, ignoring Baekho's request for him to shut up. "It couldn't have been that bad though?"

The tips of Dongho's ears burn. No, it hadn't been a bad dream at all, but... "Ya, what makes you say that?"

Dongho swears he could hear the smirk, the arrogance in Minhyun's voice when he answers, "I mean, I was in your dream! How could it have been bad — you kept saying my name, Baekho-ya. Minhyun-ah, Minhyun, Min—"

Dongho sits up and throws a pillow at Minhyun's face in an attempt to silence him. He was mortified enough to have had an... interesting dream in the same room as the subject of his dream — he didn't need to hear any more of this. It hits Minhyun square in the face, because Minhyun is clumsy and incapable of dodging. Minhyun proceeds to hug the offending pillow and, fuck, why was Minhyun so cute?

"It's cause you're a nightmare," Dongho hisses, glaring at Minhyun.

Minhyun wiggles his eyebrows and flutters his eyelashes at him. "You mean your dream come true?"

"My worst nightmare," Dongho answers with a sense of finality, not wanting to continue this conversation before it leads to him accidentally saying yeah, sure, you half-naked on a bed is definitely my dream come true, Minhyun-ah. "Please wear a shirt."

"Only if you wake up and take a shower. We have schedules today." Minhyun laughs heartily in response while retrieving a shirt from his suitcase.

Dongho wants nothing more than to shut him up with his mouth.

Due to fate or misfortune or a strange combination of both, Dongho found himself roommates with Minhyun for this leg of their Japan tour.

In a way, it was a curse, because (aside from being a general hassle, because Minhyun was such a nag) having Minhyun around 24/7 did no favors to his growing feelings for the other boy. Minhyun's presence meant that he'd always had to keep his guard up or else he'd let something slip. Dongho had always been one to act on his whims, but he'd be damned if he'd let his desires cause him to mindlessly mess up whatever good thing he had going on with Minhyun.

But in a way it was a blessing, because he really did miss Minhyun. His surgery had caused him to take a leave shortly after realizing that he wanted Minhyun in a way that wasn't strictly platonic, but he'd missed the little things too, like the way Minhyun would chatter on until he fell asleep, the way Minhyun would keep their room tidy because Dongho couldn't be assed to do so, and the way Minhyun would randomly decide to spoil him to make sure he was having a comfortable day.

Minhyun doing little extra things to spoil him was nothing out of the ordinary.

But this.

He didn't know what to think about this.

It all happened too fast: he'd gotten out of the shower after cleaning himself up and ridding himself of all his impure thoughts. He'd sat down on his bed, hair wet and slightly dripping, too lazy to even attempt towel-drying his hair when the surrounding air would do a better job. He'd just been scrolling through his Instagram feed when Minhyun said "Baekho-ya, you're dripping all over your sheets" and Dongho had ignored him.

"I'll dry your hair for you," Minhyun had said. Dongho hummed in response, not really caring what the other boy wanted to do; before he knew it, Minhyun was sitting behind him on his bed, with his hands and a towel on Dongho's head.

Looking back, it really had started out innocently enough.

"Don't get your bed wet. It's annoying," Minhyun says quietly, hands focused on towel-drying Dongho's hair.

"It's my bed though, so why do you care?" Dongho answers, still poking at his phone. Being pampered was nice sometimes, even if Dongho was sure that this was just brought on by Minhyun getting irritated by his dripping hair.

Minhyun gives his head a final pat, then puts the towel aside. Minhyun hums noncommittally, before responding, "I guess I don't really care, I just wanted to do something nice for you since you had a nightmare." The towel is replaced by Minhyun's fingers threading through his hair and — oh, this was nice, this was relaxing. Minhyun presses further into his scalp, massaging gently, softly. Dongho closes his eyes and puts his phone down, unable to continue focusing on whatever was on his screen. He tells himself to relax, despite the stammering in his chest — this was just Minhyun being friendly, this was just Minhyun being Minhyun—

Minhyun's hands move down the back of his neck, squeezing firmly at his shoulders. This was nothing new, Minhyun's always been good at massages even though he had short fingers, this was normal—

He feels a pair of lips on the crown of his head.

Well.

This.

This was new territory.

Dongho's eyes flutter shut as he feels Minhyun continue to nose at his hair, thinks that he hears Minhyun mutter your hair smells nice once but he really wasn't sure because his brain was too focused on the fact that Minhyun's lips had moved to the side of his head, to his temple, had moved to the back of his ear, and then down the side of his neck—

Dongho feels his blood run cold. Was this another dream? he thinks, but then he feels the light sting of teeth on his neck, and — nope, this wasn't a dream at all.

Minhyun's hands were still pressing at his shoulders. Dongho knew that in a way, it was still a massage but...

"Minhyun-ah," Dongho manages to let out. Since when were words so difficult?  "What are you doing?"

He manages to catch Minhyun's dazed, unfocused eyes, allows his sight to go down slightly, to Minhyun's lips, which were pink and slightly parted—

Dongho had never liked thinking, but now, he just didn't know what to think. Hell, at this point, he didn't even know how to think at all.

Maybe this was what it meant to see things through.

He leans in first and smirks when he tastes cherry lip balm on Minhyun's lips.

Chapter Text

Dongho honestly thought he knew everything there is to know about Minhyun.

He'd figured out years ago that Minhyun would blink a hundred times in a row when he was lying, had noticed that Minhyun always got red and itchy whenever he'd sweat too much. He knew that Minhyun was excellent at Japanese because he spent his free time either studying or watching dramas; knew that his best friend liked waking up far too early because he thought of sleeping as unproductive time. He'd always known that Minhyun didn't mind the members calling him out for his big head ("Only a big head can hold this much handsomeness," he'd joked once, after which Dongho tried to punch him.), and Dongho had always known that despite his haughty aura Minhyun would always put everyone else before his own needs.

Dongho knew a great deal about Minhyun, had it all catalogued in his mind — from his favorite food to the way the tips of his ears would turn bright red when touched — he'd figured them all out. He didn't think there was much else to discover.

But now, with his eyes closed and his lips pressed against Minhyun's slightly chapped ones, he realized that there was so much more he wanted to find out.

Knowing what Minhyun's lips tasted like wasn't enough.

He wanted to know more, he wanted more — to part Minhyun's lips and to find out exactly how Minhyun's tongue would feel against his own; wanted to discover and learn the proper angle that would make kissing Minhyun deeply more comfortable and more pleasurable. Was Minhyun a good kisser? He wanted to run his hands through Minhyun's hair and tug slightly just to see how he reacts: would he get annoyed? Would he like it? Was Minhyun even into hair-pulling?

All of a sudden, he wanted to know what Minhyun would say if he told him he—

His train of thought is stopped by Minhyun's tongue swiping at the seam of his lips and fuck it, he'll see this through as far as Minhyun would let him. He shifts slightly so that his torso was facing Minhyun's, parts his lips because why the hell not. He opens his eyes slightly and sees Minhyun, the pale skin of his face way too close and his eyes tightly shut.

Dongho could count Minhyun's eyelashes if he wanted to.

He closes his eyes, quickly deciding against it. All he wanted to do was to kiss Minhyun back.

So he does — or at least, he tries his best to, because he wasn't really sure how to go about this whole kissing thing. He could count with one hand the number of people he'd kissed in his life, but that wasn't the point; he wasn't even sure if this was happening at all, so he just goes through the motions, capturing Minhyun's bottom lip in between his own and biting down lightly, reveling in the way the taller boy clutched tightly at his shoulder in response. Dongho angles his head a little bit to the right to gain better access to Minhyun's mouth, and this, this is better, so much better, with their noses out of the way. Maybe he was wrong, maybe this was all just a dream, because this feels right, kissing Minhyun feels good in a way that can't possibly be real.

He ends up just going for it: he lets his palm cup the side of Minhyun's face, thumb stroking lightly at Minhyun's jawline and he moves his tongue inside Minhyun's mouth. Dongho is delighted and mildly surprised to find that Minhyun — bossy, irritating, annoying Minhyun — just allows him to do whatever he wants. He tries to memorize everything: from the exact angle that Minhyun seemed to like best, to the slight gasp when he pulled lightly at Minhyun's hair, to the sounds that came from the back of Minhyun's throat when their tongues inadvertently touched. He was finding out so much about his best friend from just one kiss, and yet he wanted to know more, there was more to find out, he was positive—

But right now, his lungs were practically begging for air — he needed to breathe.

This most definitely was not a dream.

Dongho pulls away reluctantly and opens his eyes and holy shit, Minhyun was so beautiful with his lips red and swollen, his hair unkempt because of Dongho's light tugging, so pretty with his cheeks pink and ears bright red and his eyes wide with shock.

Realization hits him like a truck. He shouldn't have done that.

He looks away, missing the way Minhyun leans forward ever-so-slightly.

Dongho inhales deeply, resisting the urge to kiss Minhyun again — and again, and again, and again. He's probably fucked it all up, killed five whole years of friendship by kissing Minhyun without his permission. If this was the last time he'd get to see Minhyun look at him like that, then, well, he's grateful to the gods above that at least he got to see it at all.

He's just not sure if it was worth it.

Minhyun is the first one to break the silence.

"Um," Minhyun says, running a hand through his hair. A classic Minhyun nervous tic, Dongho notes, and his ears are so, so red. "I'm—"

"I shouldn't have done that," Dongho says quickly, not quite meaning it but still managing to look Minhyun in the eye. He thinks he sees Minhyun's face fall slightly, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him. "I'm sorry, Minhyun-ah."

Two years of pining over his best friend combined with the burning desire to just let Minhyun know had given Dongho time to prepare himself for the many possible variations of Minhyun rejecting his advances. There was no way that Minhyun felt the same way, even when the sounds Minhyun made while being kissed seemed to suggest otherwise. There was no chance in hell for someone like him — Minhyun probably wanted to be with someone more like himself: a capable person who had their life together, someone kind and clean and gentle, someone tall and beautiful in an ethereal way that would make random passers-by swoon—

Hwang Minhyun would never, ever want someone like Kang Dongho.

Let's just be friends, Dongho-ya, he'd say with a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, you're just not my type.

He wasn't prepared for the flicker of annoyance that flashes through the taller boy's features. "Why are you sorry," Minhyun breathes, inching closer to Dongho's face for some reason he couldn't figure out. "when I obviously started it."

"Because—"

Minhyun keeps talking, because that's just what Minhyun does. "Why are you sorry, when it was obvious that I liked it—"

"I—What—What are you doing, Minhyun-ah?" He was close now, close enough for Dongho to kiss Minhyun again if he really wanted to – and he really wanted to, but he did not want to make the same mistake. He resists, clenching his palms into fists to stop himself from pulling Minhyun any closer.

"What I'm saying is—" Dongho could literally feel Minhyun's breath on his lips, and he finds himself frozen in place. "I let you kiss me, and I kissed you back, because believe it or not—" Dongho screws his eyes shut, not quite understanding what was going on; he feels Minhyun's lips against his, quickly, a chaste peck much unlike the kiss from earlier.

He is overwhelmed by the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears; he's not sure how he manages to catch Minhyun's last few words—

"I like you, Baekho-ya."

Minhyun presses his lips against Dongho's — firmly, as if to get his point across, as if to convince Dongho that what he was saying was true — before he could formulate an intelligent response. Not that Dongho could verbally answer Minhyun anyway: his lips were very much occupied by the other man, so he uncurls his fists, lets his hands wander to the back of Minhyun's neck, fingertips tracing light patterns at the skin there. He delights in the way goosebumps form at his simple touches; hopes that his fingers and lips would transmit everything that he had been afraid to put into words for the past two years. His heart, which a few moments ago was pounding due to nerves and anxiety, was now thrumming wildly with inexplicable fondness and joy.

This time it is Minhyun who pulls away first.

Minhyun leans his forehead against Dongho's, dark eyes staring into hazel ones. It's when he sees the bashfulness in Minhyun's gaze, when he hears the slight waver of insecurity in Minhyun's voice when he whispers, "Is this okay, Baekho-ya?" that he realizes that maybe he didn't know Minhyun as well as he thought he did.

It takes all of four years and three kisses for it to dawn on him that the Minhyun of his mind — the perfect, unattainable one; the Minhyun with impossibly high standards that he was sure would turn Dongho down, kindly but swiftly in the way that only Minhyun could pull off — is wholly separate from the Minhyun that was sitting in front of him.

Because the Minhyun in front of him was red-cheeked; anxious and uncertain with trembling hands. This Minhyun was just as insecure as he was, not quite believing that Dongho could reciprocate his feelings even though he had kissed Minhyun back.

This Minhyun, unlike the Minhyuns from his most pessimistic imaginations, was more like the Minhyun of his very secret dreams.

This Minhyun liked him back.

And this Minhyun was waiting for him to say something, anything in response.

"Yeah," Dongho answers, and he thinks it's a little bit dumb to respond to Minhyun's drawn-out confession with a single word but somehow this slow burn feels just about right. He lets his mouth cover Minhyun's and he swears he feels Minhyun smile against his lips. He could get used to this.

He pulls away, murmuring a quick "I like you." He moves his lips to the side and kisses Minhyun's cheek. "I like you a lot despite knowing you a lot and I'm really not sure why." He lets his lips roam, kissing the side of Minhyun's jaw, nosing at the back of Minhyun's reddened ear, not unlike what Minhyun had done before this all went to hell—

Minhyun groans loudly, and the sound goes straight to Dongho's groin; that goddamn coiling heat in his abdomen — the one that always seemed to reappear whenever Minhyun's dumb sounds were involved — was back again.

This time, not like two years ago, Dongho knew exactly what he wanted to do about that heat.

But before he could do anything, he hears two knocks outside their bedroom door, causing Dongho to quickly part from Minhyun. 

"Shit," Minhyun says, eyes wide and lips swollen. He reaches out his hand to pat at Dongho's bangs in an attempt to fix the mess that he had caused and Dongho's heart skips a beat. "We have a schedule, and we both look like shit."

"You look perfect, Minhyun-ah," Dongho blurts in response as he watches Minhyun stand up from his bed. He blushes when he realizes what he said, but he continues. "Messy but — you're perfect." He meant every word.

"Dumbass," Minhyun answers, holding out his hand. The word would've stung slightly if it weren't for the blush across Minhyun's cheeks. Dongho swallows the growing lump in his throat. "Let's go."

Aside from his special skill of having good memory for really stupid stuff, ambition had always been one of Dongho's better traits: dream big, work hard, and the results would follow. When he was younger, he'd wanted to be a black belt at kumdo, so he'd devoted his time and energy into making that happen. As a young teenager, he got recruited by the company to be an idol though he knew next-to-nothing about singing and dancing. He remembers the grueling days spent in lessons, training his ass off to achieve competence. He became Nu'est's main vocal as a reward for his hard work.

All his life, he'd been a go-getter.

But somewhere in the middle of their three-year career, Dongho had figured out that being a go-getter had absolutely nothing to do human emotion. Hard work had nothing to do with being loved, or even liked. He knows, because he'd worked hard. The five of them had worked hard, and yet hardly anyone would care about the things they'd released.

At one point in time, he had big dreams: for Nu'est to be worldwide superstars, to get number one on all the music charts, to hold concerts in gigantic stadiums that would sell out as soon as tickets went on sale. He'd learned to dial down the dreaming, because he couldn't stand not being able to get what he wanted. He'd learned to force himself to dream of simpler things: their first win on a cable TV music show. To sneak in to the top 100 of music charts. To fill in a small hall in Osaka with people who would listen to their songs.  

But there was one silly dream he couldn't simplify, no matter how hard he tried. Because of Minhyun's dumb red ears, he'd realized — albeit extremely slowly — that his best friend was his ultimate weakness. He wanted to hold Minhyun's hand, wanted to kiss Minhyun, wanted to learn more about Minhyun, wanted to spend random waking hours with Minhyun doing various wholesome and not-so-wholesome things. Minhyun was tiring, frustrating to be around at times — but Dongho liked him, and he’d wanted so badly for Minhyun to like him back in that way.

And now that he's absolutely sure that Minhyun does, well—

He's thankful, so thankful to the gods above, to his own patience and stubbornness, to Minhyun for speeding up the process, that he didn't even attempt to simplify his stupid, irrational, being-with-Minhyun dream.

There's really nothing more satisfying than a dream come true, Dongho thinks.

As they walk to their next schedule hand-in-hand, with Minhyun's fingertips drawing small circles against his palm, Dongho thinks that this calmness is probably the closest to his fantasies his life can get.

Maybe he would figure out how to dream big again sometime in the future, but for now...

For now, just having kryptonite in his hands – this was already perfect.

For now, this was more than enough.