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Any idol will tell you days off are rare. This is especially true to members of multiple groups. Between photoshoots, appearances, recording sessions, and just general travel, it’s hard to make time for your friendships. Though, nowadays, Sicheng spends a lot of his time at the dormitory. Sure, he’s part of three of NCT’s various subunits, but his participation has been limited to WayV in recent months. That in itself is complicated and draws a whole other round of emotion from him; emotions that he isn’t willing to sift through tonight.
Tonight is the first in a while that Sicheng gets to be with just Chittaphon. The other members are fun to be around, but being limited to only WayV’s activities forces him to be around certain members a little too often. Chittaphon is rarely here, rarely home, so Sicheng is going to abuse every second of their free time together.
It’s been a long day if he stops and thinks about it. All seven members had their own chores to take care of in the morning; whether that be shopping, meetings, or general company obligations. Sicheng had claimed Chittaphon pretty early on in the week, and after a late dinner at Sicheng’s favorite restaurant, the pair is sat under Sicheng’s obnoxiously sized comforter. He bought a queen-sized one by accident on a rogue trip to Ikea about a month ago; so it’s been stolen for movie night more times than he cares to count.
Though Sicheng craves all of Chittaphon’s attention most times, sitting next to the man on the communal loveseat of their living room seems to placate him just fine. He’s actually very invested in this episode of Chicago P.D. (plus, he could use the English practice). It’s only when the show cuts to its commercial break-- Sicheng only pays for basic Hulu-- does Chittaphon speak up.
“Sicheng,” It’s quiet, but just loud enough for the younger male to perk up and peel his eyes away from the Lux advert on the television. “Can you look at this?”
Chittaphon’s been doodling on his iPad the entire episode. Not for lack of wanting to talk to Sicheng, no, but because it was a way to keep his hands busy. Plus, both men were fine in sitting in silence together. Sicheng shifts a bit so that his cheek is pressed against Chittaphon’s shoulder, and the new malformation of his flesh makes his next words a bit muffled. “What about it?”
“The lips.”
The tablet screen is lit up with a drawing of a man. It has a few stray lines here and there, and the aforementioned pair of lips claim a large amount of Chittaphon’s undo’s. Sicheng doesn’t think that it’s anyone he’s supposed to recognize, but he’d belive the other man if he said it was. So the dancer nods. “They look good. You did a good job.”
Sicheng can feel his friend relax a bit at that answer, and it prompts a quiet; “You think?” from Chittaphon. “I don’t know, I feel like it looks a bit..” The hand holding the white pen teeters a bit in front of the pair. “.. off? But maybe it’s just because I drew it.” The shorter male uses the dull edge of the pen to poke at Sicheng’s own pair of lips, starting just below the pink flesh of his bottom lip, and ending in a playful drag upwards of Sicheng’s rightmost corner. “You have nice lips.”
The comment comes across more like a mindless comment, something Chittaphon says without really thinking; and that is enough reason for both boys’ cheeks to harbor their pink tint. There’s a small pause before Sicheng shakes his head. “I don’t, but thank you.” He pulls away from Chittaphon to sit a little straighter. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, no, but Sicheng is known for taking compliments poorly. He doesn’t like the attention. He’s afraid he’ll respond wrong, or that it’s actually an insult instead, or both. Both is the worst.
There’s an awkward silence as Chittaphon remembers this. He realizes the best course of action is to pretend the compliment wasn’t even spoken, and instead, he goes back to drawing. It stays this way for maybe five minutes before the taller dancer breaks it again.
“Hey, Chittaphon? Can I ask you something?”
The man looks up at the sound of his name. He, expectedly, looks a little worried. But he tries his best to put that emotion aside and instead offers a gentle smile. “Yeah, anything.”
There’s another short pause as Chittaphon realizes Sicheng won’t look at him. His eyes are instead fixated on his own thumbs in his lap. “Have you ever kissed a boy..?”
It’s Chittaphon’s turn to be quiet, and that in turn makes Sicheng curl in on himself a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. It was a dumb question. He knows Chittaphon likes men, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s ever kissed one. How could he? SM takes up so much of their time, the members barely have time to even see each other, let alone potential partners. Sicheng is about to apologize and go back to watching his dumb show when Chittaphon answers.
“Well, yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know,” is Sicheng’s immediate answer. It’s very obviously a reflex, though, and his fingers begin to pick at the skin of his cuticles as he continues. “I just think about it a lot. Ever since you told all of us about you, I’ve been thinking; and maybe I’m like you, too?” There are a few glances toward Chittaphon to try and gauge his reaction, try and predict what he’s going to say before he actually speaks. All he really catches is Chittaphon putting his tablet on the coffee table. This topic is obviously more important than his drawing, and Sicheng almost apologizes for distracting him.
“Sicheng,” The taller dancer’s name is spoken so gently that he’s borderline afraid. The only thing that’s keeping him from getting up and leaving the room is the immediate reassurance of Chittaphon’s hand at his knee. “You can talk to me about anything; especially this. Just.. talk. Don’t think.”
A single exhale leaves Sicheng’s lungs before he shrugs. “I don’t even know, though, that’s the problem. I just have all these..” A hand raises to contort in front of the man’s chest, accompanied nicely by the way his eyebrows start to sink on his expression. “.. feelings, I guess, about other boys.. but I don’t know if it’s because I like them, or they’re just being really nice to me, and it doesn’t make any sense.” The hand that’s been twisted in front of Sicheng’s chest falls with a dramatic thud to the feather comforter.
Chittaphon’s expression seems more or less unchanged, and that’s simply because he’s trying to process exactly what Sicheng is telling him. It’s not a bad response, or at least that’s what Sicheng is telling himself. After a moment, Chittaphon turns to face Sicheng a bit more head-on, crossing his legs to sit sideways on the couch, and Sicheng instinctively turns to do the same.
“Do you think you’re gay..?”
The question is innocent enough. But that doesn’t stop Sicheng from huffing a bit as he thinks. He really... doesn’t know. So he raises his shoulders in a lame shrug. “I’ve never kissed anyone, let alone a boy. I’d be in so much trouble, Chittaphon, from my parents, the company. I don’t--”
“Sicheng, calm d-” Chittaphon attempts to interrupt once the other dancer’s words per minute start to rack up. But it’s no use; Sicheng is still talking faster and louder, not to mention the growing anxiety in his tone.
“-- even know how I’d do that. I mean, it’s not like I can just find a boy and kiss him and be like, ‘hey, yeah! That’s awesome!’ and just know. We’re on such strict schedules and have so many appointments --”
“Can you please-”
“-- and then, like, that’s weird, ‘cause if it’s someone I know, they’d know I’m experimenting. But a stranger might out me to the tabloids. And then I have to deal with the managers and maybe even lose my job. That would end me. I’d have to go into hiding, and-- mn!”
Sicheng’s rambling is suddenly brought to a stop for no other reason than Chittaphon’s lips are pressed firmly to his own. He didn’t even realize that Chittaphon’s hands were on his cheeks at first, but they sure were there, and they’re keeping Sicheng from pulling away. Not that he wants to; this is actually nice. It doesn’t last long, though, as Chittaphon disengages after only a few seconds.
“There, now you’ve kissed a boy.”
Sicheng is in a weird state of shock. He doesn’t respond right away, and if he’s being honest? He doesn’t know how to. His cheeks are burning almost as hot as Chittaphon’s, and the only reason he can tell is from their close proximity. “Can… we try it again?” is all the taller man manages to squeak out.
The question earns the smallest chuckle from Chittaphon, and he connects the two in another kiss. This one is much softer, much less forceful, and Sicheng can actually take the time to enjoy the piece of euphoria that comes with it.
Sicheng honestly didn’t know what to expect from a kiss. He’s always heard it described in books as this explosion, this firework show in his chest that makes his ears ring, but he never knew what that meant until now.