Work Text:
how to bundle yourself against the frosted morning—
the crunch of icy grass underfoot,
the scrape of cold wipers along the windshield—
and convert time into distance.
*
Hyukjae curled up further into his blankets, pressing his face into the pillow and breathing out. Sleep was a precious commodity in his life always, but the lack of it was easier to bear when he was younger than it was now. He had the energy to go out after a full day of schedules back then. It was like the moment he passed thirty, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open after eleven at night. Or, he could, but he got really cranky about it.
That days' schedule had ended late and he’d been daydreaming of this moment the whole ride back in the company car. Now that he was here, in his fresh pajamas and soft blankets, it was even better than he’d imagined it. Hyukjae let himself be pulled towards sleep, his eyelids drooping and his limbs growing heavy, breathing even. He was content to let the worries of the day slip away and just drift.
His front door unlocked with a sound that echoed in the quiet apartment. Stuck in-between waking and sleep, Hyukjae opened his eyes, feeling both annoyed and worried by the noise that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. He could feel the tension settle on his shoulders.
His options were two simple ones. He was either about to get brutally murdered by a burglar or—
A quiet knock on his bedroom door. That settles it , Hyukjae thought, as his shoulders went down. “Just me,” Donghae’s voice came muffled through the wood, followed by the sounds of him moving to the bathroom and the tap running.
Hyukjae sighed and closed his eyes, content to go back to drowsing.
It could have been just minutes or a full hour later that his door opened and Donghae was sliding into bed and under his covers, mercilessly pressing his cold limbs against Hyukjae’s sleep warm body.
Hyukjae tried to shape a question in his mouth but it came out more like a sleepy mumble. Luckily, after a decade of sharing space, Donghae was more than adequately trained to translate.
“Recording ran late and your place is closer to the studio,” Donghae whispered, tucking his nose against Hyukjae’s nape. “Everything is fine, go back to sleep.”
Hyukjae made a noise of agreement. Donghae’s body was slowly warming up against his, and he smelled nice, like Hyukjae’s shower gel. He’d probably borrowed another pair of Hyukjae’s pajamas too. He’ll have to make sure Donghae doesn’t steal them tomorrow or he’ll have no clothes left.
Maybe he could make Donghae buy him some more pajamas since he insisted on coming over and borrowing them?
Or he could make Donghae give him some of his clothes. That would be nice—he smelled like coffee most of the time, and something unique, something inherently his that Hyukjae hasn’t been able to figure out over the years.
With that pleasing thought in his mind and the sound of Donghae’s soft, even breathing, Hyukjae fell asleep.
*
Hyukjae woke up to the smell of coffee and the sounds of pots banging in his kitchen. It took him almost a full minute to reconstruct the events up to that point. Another thing that got lost with age was his ability to wake up quickly and be instantly alert.
He didn't as much get up as he got propelled off the bed by the force of his massive yawn. His slippers were neatly lined up by the side of the bed which made it highly probable that Donghae had tripped over them and attempted to tidy them back up. They’re in opposite directions but Hyukjae appreciates the thought.
Hyukjae wanders to the kitchen, frowning at the light flooding through the curtainless windows and buttoning up his top that had managed to somehow unbutton during the night.
He had his suspicions about Donghae trying to reach under it in his sleep to touch skin. If he confronted Donghae with it, he’d probably say something passionately earnest like how he wanted to feel Hyukjae’s heartbeat. He’s elected to keep quiet, for his own sanity, and for fear of experiencing tachycardia if Donghae voiced something like that.
In the kitchen, Donghae stood at the counter, fussing with the coffee maker. He turned around at the sound of Hyukjae’s footsteps. And then he smiled.
The morning light through the kitchen windows cast a halo around him. His hair looked soft, curling around his face, free of gel, and his smile cut wrinkles around his mouth that weren’t there ten years ago.
Bare-faced and bare-footed in the middle of Hyukjae’s kitchen, he looked nothing short of resplendent.
“Good morning!” Donghae said, totally oblivious to Hyukjae’s sudden inner crisis. “I made you some coffee.”
And it was like something short-circuited in Hyukjae’s brain, only to re-route into a totally opposite direction, because instead of reaching out for the proffered coffee cup with a friendly thanks, Hyukjae grabbed at the collar of Donghae’s borrowed pajamas and kissed him on the mouth.
Hyukjae couldn’t be held totally responsible for what happened next, because Donghae practically melted against him, setting the coffee mug on the kitchen counter with a loud clack, to free his hands up so they could slip into Hyukjae’s hair and pull him closer.
They stayed like that for a couple minutes, pawing at each other, exchanging air and affection, and then once they separated, Donghae smiled at him and said, “Sorry, I think I maybe burned the rice.”
Just then, the smell reached Hyukjae’s nose and the next couple of minutes were a mad scramble to save his poor abused rice cooker and what was left of their breakfast. As he stood on a chair, waving at the fire alarm to convince it to shut down, while Donghae apologized loudly to the kimchi, the previous event just sort of slipped from Hyukjae’s mind.
*
Hyukjae had a full day of schedules - hair and makeup in the morning, followed by a taping of a show he was featured on, a quick lunch, then more promotions. There was barely time to go to the bathroom, much less think about anything that wasn't business.
So it was probably understandable that the events of that morning didn't catch up to him until it was already mid-afternoon.
Their manager walked into the dressing room with some last minute instructions and then said, almost an afterthought, “Donghae asked me to tell you he can't make it to dinner today because his schedule is running late.”
That’s when it hit - Donghae's hand in his hair and the bitter taste of coffee on his tongue, the soft familiar contours of his body that fit so easily against him. How natural it all felt, like it was something they just did now, after years of friendship.
Sleep in the same bed and kiss.
“Oh,” Hyukjae croaked out. Because maybe Donghae didn't think it was natural. Maybe Hyukjae pushed him into something he didn't actually want. Maybe that was why he was avoiding dinner and he'd asked the manager to pass on the message in order to not hurt Hyukjae's feelings.
The rest of the day was a disaster. It was only the experience of almost two decades in the business that made any of the tapings useful, and he’d feel bad about reusing old jokes if a voice in his head wasn't loudly screaming at him about how he'd just ruined his life, his closest friendship, and probably Super Junior.
*
By the time he got back to the apartment, Hyukjae was a complete wreck. He spent a couple of minutes staring at Donghae’s spare pair of slippers on the shoe rack— seriously , he had reached previously unmatched levels of oblivious —before trudging to the kitchen to make himself the sad pack of ramen noodles that had been lurking in the back of his cupboard for months.
They tasted exactly just as awful as he felt, yet he couldn’t be bothered to call the nearest Chinese restaurant and order something else to eat.
It seemed that every single channel on the TV was showing romantic dramas. After angrily clicking away from yet another fairytale kiss, Hyukjae finally settled on watching the news, which was safe and also made him excruciatingly anxious.
He glanced at his phone. Donghae hadn’t texted him all day. Usually, he would at least get a nonsense joke or a blurry picture of his food, but not today. Instead, his phone was full of notifications for the selfies that Yesung was posting in the group chat after probably spending the day frolicking around Prague or wherever the hell he was. Hyukjae deleted all the notifications and threw the phone to the other end of the couch.
The time Donghae was supposed to arrive came and went. Hyukjae shuffled over to the bathroom to get ready for bed, trying at least to keep himself busy, if he couldn’t outright make his brain stop working. This backfired though because now that he was aware of it, he couldn’t help noticing traces of Donghae everywhere.
He had a spare toothbrush in the holder and there are two towels hung up on the hooks instead of just one. Unfamiliar skincare products were on the shelf next to the mirror and the leaky faucet had been fixed. Hyukjae didn’t remember if he ever paid Donghae back for getting the repairman.
So he felt even worse once he came back to the living room, wearing fresh pajamas that smelled like the laundry detergent Donghae mentioned liking one time. Hyukjae pressed his head into his folded knees and sighed.
He was almost too involved in his spiral of misery to hear the front door click open, but Donghae’s voice was unmistakable, even amidst the thoughts running through his head at full speed, varying from the realistic-pessimistic to the outright hellish possible outcomes.
“Hey, I’m here,” Donghae said, kicking off his shoes haphazardly at the entrance and putting a white plastic bag on the kitchen table, “I’m sorry I’m so late. Did you know it was snowing?”
It would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel floored by a comment that was both so casual and so fucking Donghae , who would absolutely be unaware of how tight his stomach felt after hours of waiting for one single sign that would assure him that everything would be alright, that he hadn’t just lost his best friend and most-likely soulmate over something as impulsive—yet sincere—as a kiss.
Hyukjae just barely had enough time to register the half-melted snowflakes in his hair before Donghae was across the room, and pressing their mouths together in a lingering kiss.
Hyukjae’s brain went blank. Donghae smelled like the cold and coffee and the barest traces of his cologne and he kissed him like they’ve been doing it forever. Almost abruptly, he pulled away, leaving Hyukjae staring at empty space as he unbuttoned his coat and slung it over the radiator to dry.
“I don’t think the snow will stick though,” Donghae was saying, “it’s too wet. It’s a shame—I thought we could make a snowman tomorrow and dress him up in that ugly jacket you bought last week.”
“What,” Hyukjae said.
“Oh, you know, the one with yellow sequins,” Donghae said, fussing with the bag he’d bought.
“No, I mean, what are you doing here?” Hyukjae asked, wincing at how harshly it came out.
Donghae frowned. “I live here,” he pointed out, “well, okay, I live downstairs but I’m here a lot.”
“No, but…” Hyukjae trailed off, “aren’t you upset?”
“Upset?” Donghae repeated before brightening. “Yeah, I was really upset that I missed dinner today, but the schedule got doubled last minute and I couldn’t finish in time. I thought I’d get you some tteokbokki in case you hadn’t eaten, or if you just wanted a snack.”
He pulled out a plastic container from the bag, cracking it open with evident delight as the air filled with a delicious savory scent. Donghae took some bowls down from the cabinet and seemed to be intent on serving them the rice cakes.
“Wait,” Hyukjae choked out, still sitting on the sofa like a lost child, “so you aren’t upset? About me kissing you?”
“Hm?” Donghae made a questioning noise, looking up from selecting the appropriate kitchen utensil. “Oh, no, I’m not. I’ve actually wanted to date you for years but I thought you were straight but since you kissed me I can see that you’re not and we can date. Now, can we eat?”
“Oh,” Hyukjae said. “Wait, what ?” He added, eyes wide, once his brain caught up with the meaning of Donghae’s words.
The smile slid off Donghae’s lips. “Did I get this wrong?” he asked, suddenly quiet. Hyukjae looked at him, rumpled and soft, and so vulnerable.
Hyukjae shook his head slowly as his world realigned itself. Next to ‘bandmate’ and ‘best friend’, Donghae suddenly gained another category. Of course, it was just that easy. Like everything with Donghae was. How could he have even thought otherwise?
“No, you didn’t get it wrong,” Hyukjae said, carefully getting on his shaky feet. The world felt new and unsteady around him, but Donghae’s smile was like a beacon.
“Okay, then let's eat.”
*
It was a little awkward at first, but then Donghae hooked a foot around his ankle and started telling him about his day, and it got better. All of this was familiar, except now Hyukjae could step into Donghae’s space and steal a kiss when he was washing the dishes, pulling back before Donghae could grab him with his soapy hands.
Donghae paused in front of Hyukjae’s bedroom door, sending him an uncertain look.
“Maybe I should go back to my apartment to sleep,” he said, fiddling with his pajama top.
“Why?” Hyukjae asked, arching an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say we were dating now?”
The words still made his mouth instinctively twitch up in a smile.
“Yeah, but if you’re uncomfortable…” Donghae trailed off, visibly worried, and Hyukjae’s heart was threatening to burst under a sudden wave of fondness.
“Your apartment is a disaster,” Hyukjae said bluntly, “the last time I was in there, you didn’t even have a bed. You’ve been sleeping in here all month except that time you slept at Teuk-hyung’s while I was away.”
Donghae still looked unconvinced, so Hyukjae sighed and reached out for him.
“Just stay,” he added.
Donghae’s smile was like the sun.
*
your wings folded around him, on the other side
of this ragged January, as if a long sleep has ended.