Work Text:
Yonghoon bites the inside of his mouth. It’s a sharp jab of pain that wakes him up completely, heavy eyes blinking awake.
The lights from the skyline blink back at him, blurring at the edges, small and faraway.
He sighs, his phone digs painfully into the palm of his hand, cold, fully charged.
The room is quiet, the bed is still made, covers neatly pulled over. His socked feet curling at the edge of the mattress.
He watches as lights go off and on, watches as people walk towards the nighttime, cars passing by, almost familiar signs he can read but has to translate in his head.
His phone buzzes in his hand, a violent set of vibrations that make his heart drop, a sick feeling rise up his throat.
He doesn’t have to check who it is, knows by the quick succession of messages thrown at him. He smiles, he can’t help it, but he still tries to bite it back, even if no one else is awake to see it.
hey
sorry
we just got home
really tired
but miss you ):
are you awake?
sleep well <333 miss you a lot )))):
Yonghoon watches the number 1 disappear as he reads the messages. Taps on the screen, watches the keyboard appear.
i miss you too
He types it out slowly, hits the backspace button quickly.
why aren’t you sleeping?
He gets the response almost right away, just a few seconds before Youngjo sends his answers.
cant sleep thinking of you )))):
Yonghoon bites the inside of his cheek, feeling the way a blush flares across his face. He’s somehow managed to be alone, Hyungu being dragged away by Kiwook asking for his attention. It’s late and he knows Hyungu probably isn’t going to come back, stuck between humoring the younger boy and falling asleep from a long day of work.
But his eyes still flit around, afraid someone may have read that over his shoulder, may have caught on of his blush under the dark room.
He’s taken so long overthinking it, the phone’s screen has gone back to black. Yonghoon presses his finger against it, presses in his password to unlock his phone. The conversation stares right back at him as he presses for the keyboard.
Yonghoon doesn’t get far, his keyboard flickering off to an incoming video call.
The picture of Youngjo greets him, jjonyangie <333333 taking up the screen.
He accepts the call on reflex, mouth spreading into a smile as soon as Youngjo appears on his screen.
It’s dim on the other side, Youngjo’s eyes heavy with sleep, face bare, skin soft looking.
“Your hair is getting long,” Youngjo says as a greeting, pushing his own fringe away from his eyes, “it’s pretty.”
Yonghoon laughs at his words, a half laugh, hand going self-consciously to touch the top of his head.
“Your hair is getting long too,” he shoots back, eyes drifting to the way Youngjo’s damp hair curls over his eyes.
“I’ll cut it soon,” Youngjo huffs, shifting his phone a bit higher, “it gets too long when we straighten it.”
“That’s bad for you,” Yonghoon says, tone worn like every other time they’ve had this conversation.
“Curly hair doesn’t suit me,” Youngjo says anyway, like he doesn’t know how this is going to end up.
“I like your curly hair,” Yonghoon mumbles, moving up a bit on the bed, “it’s cute.”
Youngjo pouts at him from the screen, curling hair again pushed back, “I don’t like it,” he answers, tugging at his hair, watching it straighten with the pull and then bounce back.
“You look pretty with it,” Yonghoon says, compliments apparently spilling nonstop from his mouth.
He’s blushing even as the words leave his mouth, and Youngjo preens at the words, pleased, obviously feeling much better.
“I’ve missed you,” Youngjo whines, big eyes looking at Yonghoon expectantly, “I miss sleeping with you.”
Yonghoon half chokes at the choice of words, even if his mind is trying to reassure him that’s not what the younger means. They’ve done both kinds of sleeping, with their desperate need for touch, it was only a matter of time before they took that step. But hearing Youngjo saying anything like that, with his sleepy eyes, sharp features somehow softened, makes Yonghoon feel something . A sudden craving, a longing for the other.
“Me too,” Yonghoon says rather meekly, “I’ve missed touching you.”
Somehow he’s managed to push this further into dangerous territory.
Youngjo smiles at him, eyes knowing.
Yonghoon shifts, settles fully on the bed, head against the wall, pillows around him.
“I’m tired, hyung,” Youngjo finally says, and he can hear just how sorry Youngjo is. But his eyes are nearly closing and he too has gotten comfortable in bed, lights now completely off.
“You’ll be in America by the time we get back,” Yonghoon frowns, biting his tongue as he trails off.
“Yeah,” Youngjo sighs, raising his phone higher, “and I’ll miss you even more over there.”
Yonghoon blinks, oddly touched, “the time difference will be greater,” he manages to say.
“I know,” Youngjo answers him, “but I’ll miss you no matter whatever time it is.”
That’s not what Yonghoon was trying to get at but it drags a laugh out of him. No matter how much he tries to deny it, he likes this, likes how easy Youngjo gives him affection, how easy Yonghoon can give it back.
“This whole conversation has been just you saying you miss me,” Yonghoon smiles at the younger, teasing but soft.
“I’m going crazy with it,” Youngjo rushes out, like a secret he’s afraid Yonghoon will hear, “it’s already been so long, and thinking about not seeing you much longer, I’ll die.”
Yonghoon doesn’t know how to respond, he stares stupidly at the other, brain trying to figure out what to say.
“But your fans,” Yonghoon finally settles with, “you want to meet them so much, it’s all you’ve been talking about.”
Youngjo sighs, “I know,” he says, lip jutting out, “but I want to be with you too.”
“Don’t pout,” Yonghoon groans, eyes looking away, “it doesn’t suit you.”
That does nothing but make Youngjo pout more.
“Now you have to kiss it away,” Youngjo says simply.
“I’m in Japan,” Yonghoon says, not bothering to finish that sentence, trusting Youngjo understands why he can’t just walk across the hallway and spend the night with him like they’re used to doing.
But Youngjo merely puckers his lips. His mouth is so pretty Yonghoon doesn’t really think is fair.
“I’m not kissing the screen,” Yonghoon says, blush coming back with a vengeance.
Youngjo doesn’t answer, instead just leans closer to his phone.
He feels silly, but Yonghoon leans closer to his phone too, eyes closing, lips puckering. His lips touch the screen, right over Youngjo’s own lips.
It’s brief and Youngjo pulls away with a wide smile, eyes starry even with their tiredness.
“Wish I could kiss you for real,” he says, forlornly.
“You should really be sleeping,” Yonghoon says, “instead of being sad.”
“I want to sleep with you,” Youngjo says, and again Yonghoon’s heart stutters.
“I’ll stay on the phone,” Yonghoon finally says, reaching over for his charger, plugging his phone in, “that way it’s a bit like we’re sleeping together.”
“We could be doing so much more if you were really here.”
Yonghoon is glad his phone is pointing away from him as he plugs it in, knows his face would have been a sight at those words.
“Thought you were tired,” Yonghoon grumbles, finally settling down again.
“I am,” Youngjo says, his eyes closing, “but I miss doing that with you.”
Yonghoon hums at that, his own eyes closing, “you’re really something else.”
It goes quiet and Yonghoon thinks maybe Youngjo has finally fallen asleep. But when he opens them to look at the screen Youngjo is looking right back at him, eyes calculating.
“Hyung?” he starts slowly, voice soft.
“Yeah?” Yonghoon asks back, body tensing at the change of mood.
It’s a beat of silence, then two, before Youngjo speaks again.
“Would it be weird if I asked you for pictures?”
“I send you pictures all the time,” Yonghoon answers without hesitation, a bit confused.
Youngjo scowls, bites his lip, “no, hyung,” he rolls on his side, “I mean like pictures pictures.”
Yonghoon’s brain finally catches on and even in the dark he knows Youngjo can see his blush.
He’s beyond thankful that Hyungu has fallen asleep in Kiwook’s room.
“You don’t have to, if you aren’t comfortable,” Youngjo tacks on immediately, “I just thought-,” he pauses, starts again, “I thought it would make it easier, being apart for so long.”
Yonghoon watches the way Youngjo’s eyes can’t meet his and his brain starts to go into some sort of overheated whirring thinking about pictures. Taking those kinds of pictures of himself, teasing and scandalous. Sending those kinds of pictures to Youngjo, his boyfriend. Youngjo touching himself to them. Youngjo sending back pictures of himself.
He swallows nervously, his body somehow, even in his tiredness, reacting to it.
“I would if it made you happy,” Yonghoon tries to sound nonchalant.
“I only want to if you want to,” Youngjo says rapidly.
“I want to do anything with you,” Yonghoon doesn’t hesitate to say, “I want to send you pictures if you’d like to have them.”
“Ok,” Youngjo says quietly, “but not now, tired.”
Yonghoon laughs again, the tension in the air gone with it.
“How can you be so cute but look so scary,” Yonghoon asks, not really expecting an answer.
Enough time passes for Youngjo’s breathing to slow down, a steady rhythm.
“Falling asleep,” Youngjo says, unneeded.
“Ok,” Yonghoon says anyway, turning on his side too, phone leaning against his pillow to keep looking at the other, in the same position.
“Love you,” Youngjo says, eyes drooping close.
“Love you, too,” Yonghoon says.
Yonghoon falls asleep counting the Youngjo’s eyelashes.