Archive of Our Own

There's something weird about Ten when he comes back from America.

He's like a stray cat that's starting to settle down in a new home, easily spooked and untrusting. It's weird, because it has only been two weeks, and yet this part of the tour seems to have hit differently.

Kun sighs, stirring the pot. Usually the dorm auntie cooks dinner as well, but today he suggested she leave earlier so they can be on their own. Besides, he can handle some cooking.

He starts cutting vegetables mindlessly and thinks back to these two weeks — his isolation, the way he would watch others' lives and call them whenever he'd feel lonely.

But not Ten.

He wrote to him, of course, sent him pictures and even videos, but calling, somehow. Somehow it felt dangerous.

Deep down, he knows why.

There was something brewing, simmering — speaking of, he lowers the heat and puts the veggies in, — between them since… last year, probably.

Kun felt it with every touch that lingered too long, every time Ten just "happened" to drop by his room, out of boredom, nothing more. With every studying gaze, every flirty message, every moment they stayed alone.

But then Ten left. And it didn't stop, no — there was even more honesty in their late-night (for one or the other) text conversations, "miss you" and "I can't wait" scattered all over their messages. Ten admitted he took one of Kun's favorite hoodies with him on the third day, and Kun lay in bed later, thinking about it for way too long.

But Kun — Kun didn't want to deal with it like that, he didn't want to let it burst when there were thousands of kilometres between them.

And Ten didn't push.

Fine, Kun thought. We just need to wait. Wait until we meet again, and then—

Except that Ten comes back and everything is… just slightly off. (Kun belatedly remembers the salt.) He's cheerful, clearly delighted to be back while also riding on the tour hype. But… he also skirts around certain topics and doesn't seem to want to face Kun directly. They spend time together, all or most of the members, eating, watching something or playing games, but Ten avoids him. Him, specifically.

And maybe, Kun could read something bad into this, maybe he could twist it into something unpleasant in his mind.

Were he anyone else, maybe.

But he isn't, and so Kun finishes the curry and prepares to wait.

It doesn't take that long. Ten comes back alone — which Kun knew, because he specifically asked Sicheng to herd everyone away for a bit, trusting him to do it and do it without any suspicion on Ten's part.

Ten walks into the kitchen, and Kun aches to see him. His hair, really getting longer, his stupid cap, his glasses slipping down his nose, and behind them — his eyes, immediately zeroing in on Kun.

"Is this an ambush?" Ten asks with a hint of both humor and trepidation. Kun quietly applauds him for his Mandarin vocabulary.

"Not… really," Kun says quietly, looking at his hands in his lap. "I just missed you."

He can hear the hitch in Ten's breath, the slow steps coming closer, the bag hitting the floor. He raises his eyes. Ten is right there, right in front of him, finally, finally.

Kun reaches out, and Ten catches his hand.

"You said it," Ten murmurs with wonder in his voice.

"I promised," Kun replies faintly. He can't take his eyes away. The realisation that Ten is actually here, back with him, with all of them, hits him all at once, and then it's like a dam breaks, all of Kun's feelings spilling out, splashing onto the floor.

Ten clutches his hand tighter.

"Why did you avoid me?" Kun asks softly, rubbing his thumb on Ten's palm.

Ten laughs, then coughs a little. Kun raises his eyes in concern, but Ten waves him off. "It's stupid. I just… had a hard time reconciling what we talked about with… being here. Back, in person, with you and the boys." He takes a breath. "And it's not like we haven't had important conversations before, it's just… it was… different. And I was different." A beat. "I think I realised some things lately."

"What things?" Kun asks, unable to help himself.

"I missed you," Ten says simply, and it's different than seeing it on his screen, than thinking about it with Ten across the ocean. "I missed all of you. The tour was… amazing, brilliant. Everything I wanted." He looks down. "Except that it didn't have you."

And Kun could have gathered it, from the messages, from the photos, from everything. It still makes his heart clench.

"Agh, I feel so stupid," Ten admits, choked, his hand tightening on Kun's. "I should be thankful, it's… the chance of a lifetime, why am I like this—"

Kun stands up and throws his arms around Ten.

Ten almost stumbles, clearly not expecting this, but then, then — he returns the hug, clinging fiercely, and Kun is struck by how right it feels. They don't hug much, him and Ten — or they haven't, before. There isn't some special reason behind it, just that Ten is touchy and Kun has been... less than receptive to it. And it's all in the past now, from the time they were still on the edge from becoming something new, becoming WayV, something of their own, that they could build with their own hands. They clashed a lot, back then, before Ten started curling up next to Kun on the couch in the wee hours of morning, before Kun learned what kind of snacks Ten liked with his tea, before they learned to work together and make each other stronger.

Now, Kun can't imagine his life — professional or otherwise — without Ten. He doesn't want to. He doesn't have to.

"I wanted to call you so much," Ten whines into Kun's neck.

"I know," Kun says. "But it's better like this, right?"

"Idiot." Ten hits him in the back. "It would've been fine."

"I needed to see you when I tell you this," Kun insists, stubbornly. He takes Ten's head and guides it away so they can look each other in the eye.

It's intense. It feels like they're on this precipice, and Kun doesn't know what awaits them on the other side, but he wants to take the leap together. To fall.

There's things they admitted in text, and things they left unsaid, written between the lines, maybe. But Kun wants to bring them out into the light.

"You're so precious to me," he says, enunciating clearly to ensure Ten understands.

By his look, Ten does understand. He whimpers like a cat, closing his eyes, and Kun allows it, gives him time to process, moves his hand into Ten's hair and gently cards his fingers through the strands.

"I can't believe you," Ten whispers, scoffs. "I can't believe this."

"Is it so impossible to believe?" Kun murmurs, even though it would've definitely seem impossible to him a year ago.

Ten's eyes snap open.

"It is," he says, looking somewhere in the direction of Kun's nose. "I… I didn't want to see it for so long. Even when I couldn't deny it in myself anymore, I just couldn't let myself imagine you… that you could possibly want…"

"I was scared," Kun admits, and it's like another stone drops. He feels free to say it.

"Of what?" Ten asks quietly, playing with the strings of Kun's hoodie — the one Kun found on his bed two days after Ten came back.

"Everything?" Kun thinks back. "At first, that I would make you uncomfortable, or that it would inconvenience you, and then… I was just scared. We were getting closer, and I was—" he gathers a breath and plunges, "falling for you more and more every day."

"Kun—"

"And it felt so good, but so… so—"

"I was afraid I'd scare you away," Ten laughs, somewhat bitter.

"You almost did," Kun admits, biting his lip.

Ten is quiet, and Kun catches his hand when he lets go of the string.

"There's a lot I didn't know," Kun says. "A lot I wasn't sure of. Maybe I'm still not sure, but I do know that this… was way too important for me."

He can feel Ten gulp, his left hand sliding down from his cheek to his jaw.

"You are so brave it's ridiculous," Ten finally says. "I was fucking terrified."

"Ten."

"I was! I never…" he stumbles over his words, then clutches onto Kun's hoodie with his free hand. "I didn't want this, you know? But it happened."

Kun tries to calm the rising ache in him, but it must still make it onto his face because Ten smiles sadly.

"I'm not like you, Kun. I'm weak," Ten squeezes out, and Kun doesn't rebut him, as much as he wants to. "I wanted to be safe and independent, I just wanted to pursue my career and put my everything into it. I didn't… I didn't ask to miss you, I didn't ask to get so close to you guys. I knew there was a chance of it all falling apart, I knew I shouldn't get attached because I had done it before and…" he laughs. "Well, funny how that worked out."

Kun's everything aches now, for Ten and for himself and for everyone who has ever been hurt like them, fucked over by the ruthlessness of this industry.

"I didn't want to hope, I didn't want to get attached, I didn't want anything but to perform and do my best doing it." He takes a long shuddering breath, throws his head back as if Kun can't hear the almost-tears in his voice. "But in the end, there was nothing I could do. You were there, and I couldn't stop it, couldn't stop missing you, even on a goddamn world tour, I just…"

Kun waits an appropriate time to see if Ten's going to continue. He doesn't.

"I'm so happy," Kun says, his own voice shaking now, but he refuses to give in to embarrassment, "that you are part of WayV."

"Shut up," Ten mutters weakly, headbutting Kun's chest.

"And you are… so strong. I don't know a stronger person."

Ten screams into Kun's hoodie and Kun pats his head.

"Thank you for telling me this," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Ten, warm and solid and here.

"Let go," Ten says, muffled, pressing closer.

"No," Kun whispers back. He's gotta — he can do it. He can be brave. "I'm not letting you go ever again."

Ten is quiet.

"Unless you want me to, of course," Kun adds, realising how it might come across.

"No," Ten says after a beat. He hugs back, squeezing Kun tightly. "It's fine."

They stand like this, quiet, settled, until—

"Oh no," comes a voice from the doorway.

"What is it? Is it that bad? We can't use the kitchen anymore bad?" comes another from a bit further away.

"No, god, they're… hugging," Yangyang replies with faint disgust in his voice. "Gross! Get a room!"

"They're just hugging though," Xuxi says, confused.

"They don't hug," Yangyang explains. Kun glares at him over Ten's head and belatedly sees Ten throw a finger at Yangyang without looking. "I didn't know it was like that, I thought—"

"I swear, if you say another word of what you thought Kun-ge and Ten-ge were doing—" Xiaojun interjects, coming into the kitchen. "Oh. Hi."

Ten releases him then, stepping back and surveying Kun. Seemingly satisfied with what he finds, he turns to the intruders of whom there's four now, with Hendery peeking out from behind Xuxi's shoulder.

"Are you done?" Ten says sweetly, with a hint of threat in his voice that everybody's very familiar with.

Hendery raises his hands. "I didn't say anything!"

"You could've just said you needed alone time," Xiaojun says. "No need to make Sicheng-ge invent that elaborate scheme where he pretended he would treat us but in the end he made Xuxi pay, and you two were mysteriously absent."

"I definitely knew what was happening," Yangyang interjects.

"No you didn't!" comes from three people at once. Maybe more? Kun stops paying attention to the argument and seeks out Sicheng who finally comes in. They nod to each other, Sicheng smiling when he sees the hand Kun still has on Ten's shoulder.

It takes another hour to make them quiet down and decide who's gonna eat Kun's curry and who should be okay with what they had at the restaurant — not that Kun has it in him to refuse even one of them, in the end.

After, most of them settle in to watch a movie, and Kun drags Ten to his room, ignoring the raised eyebrows and smirks thrown their way.

He doesn't care.

He cares about this: the moment the door closes behind them, Ten steps closer and — for a moment, Kun thinks Ten is going to kiss him. Maybe Ten thinks so too. In the end, he just hugs him again.

Well. There's nothing "just" about it. Kun settles into the embrace, welcoming Ten's scent — the same shampoo he's been using for years, — his touch, his sounds. The small, content sigh Ten hides in his neck.

Kun steps back, carefully moving Ten with him. Ten doesn't seem to need words to understand when Kun sits down and Ten follows, and then they arrange themselves on Kun's bed, and.

Ten turns to him, looks searchingly. Kun is suddenly struck by the feeling he used to have — feeling small and unimportant in Ten's light, in his terrifying brightness. And it's not like he had bad self-esteem, it's just… he has nothing Ten could want.

And yet.

Ten raises his hand and caresses Kun's cheek, his ear, his jaw, lightly touches his hair. Kun is frozen. He catches something in Ten's eyes — concentration and dedication, like what he gives to dance. There is nothing Kun loves watching more, but seeing it directed at himself is earth-shattering.

Mind in disarray, he doesn't even realise he's moving closer until he can faintly feel Ten's breath on his face. He could live in this moment, he thinks, just breathing the same air. Feeling the same thing.

Ten closes his eyes, moves in, nuzzles into Kun, and Kun finds his hand and holds on, on, on.

"Isn't it strange," Ten says, lips moving against Kun's cheek, "how I missed this even if I never had it?"

You always had it, Kun wants to say, but he knows it's not true.

"It's strange," Ten continues. "I thought I'd be safe in my own little cocoon. Alone and brilliant."

Kun moves a little, pressing a short kiss to one of Ten's eyelids.

"I didn't know that this is what safe feels like," Ten whispers, barely audible, and Kun is melting, he's dissolving against the blankets, he's swimming in the ocean of Ten's words, his touch and sound and smell.

He can barely breathe when he feels Ten nose at his face, entangle their legs, squeeze his hand. In response, Kun moves closer, helpless, yearning, — and they find each other like this.