Work Text:
For Jaehyun, to say that Taeyong—the sweet, loving, and ever hard-working Lee Taeyong he knows—is the most generous person on earth is still a gross understatement. Indeed, it is an injustice, a grave crime of minimization, a sin of omission—Jaehyun’s brain rapid-fires, stuttering only as it tries to keep up with his thumb, which scrolls down one of the countless forum topics tagged #TAEYONG that he has opened on his phone. The one he’s reading in particular is rife with images and fan anecdotes about Taeyong that are germane to the subject of the topic, which is singularly captured by its title: Who’s the most generous person in the world and why is it NCT’s Lee Taeyong?
Correct, Jaehyun thinks as he reconsiders the title, after which a quiet restlessness starts to fizz along the joints of his thumbs. For a moment he lets himself teeth on the straw stuck into the palm-sized juicebox he has in his other hand but, eventually, because Jaehyun is only human, he gives in to the screaming in his joints, to the urge to exercise his deeper knowledge of Lee Taeyong which he wields superior over anyone on the godforsaken internet forum he’s on. Yes, this much is necessary, because, as previously stated, Taeyong isn’t just the most generous person on earth.
Rapidly, Jaehyun types, reads over his message once, and then presses “send.” And, within a moment, his comment is put up for the entire world to see. Within a moment, too, does he get notifications about engagements on his post, which would have been surprising if not for the fact that the topic is trending and that he’s dealing with Taeyong’s dedicated fanbase:
[+27, 0]
taeyongie hyung. i’m close to him. to me, he’s the most generous person in the universe. he gives the best hugs too.
[+9, 0]
⮡ Oh . . . a fanboy? As expected of our rose! ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
[+2, 0]
⮡ Who are you? An old classmate?? Why do you talk familiarly? f*ck I also want to know how Taeyong’s hugs feel like. Please share your experiences! ㅠㅠ
[+1, 0]
⮡ Talking about hugging Lee Taeyong makes one sound a little bit delusional but I agree Taeyong is the most generous not only on this planet but also the universe ㅋㅋㅋ
Against the third reply Jaehyun considers a rebuttal. He types out "i'm not delusional i have photos to prove it," only to repeatedly strike the backspace and retire from the topic with a few clicks of his thumb. Minimal though the effort be, through it he defended Taeyong's selflessness against strangers and, perhaps most importantly, himself; really, he should be content.
And he is content, even somewhat placated. That is, until, resuming his scrolling through the forums, he finds a series of articles praising the drama he stars in, which had just garnered the highest ratings of its ongoing career, all thanks to the kissing scene between Jaehyun's character and his main love interest that aired earlier:
"My First Love" skyrockets to a staggering 7.1% in ratings thanks to recent developments!
☆☆ [HOT] Jung Jaehyun's first kissing scene ☆☆
Actor Jung Jaehyun and Actress Choi Junhee's Ultimate Chemistry Bursts On-screen After First Kiss
Jaehyun groans, body bending to lay his head on the cold and unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter before him, the legs of the chair he's been sitting on screeching backwards against the floor as he does so. They’re starting to beat again, he admits, the small yet fine wings of his doubt—because as much as Taeyong is selfless by default, Jaehyun knows the elder enough to be privy to the existence of the opposite: Taeyong's selfishness, which holds Jaehyun down by the wrists and touches its fangs against the skin of Jaehyun's neck every now and then. Sometimes, for the most innocent things, say, hogging the blanket on nights they spend sleeping in the same bed. And, sometimes, for the not-so-innocent things, like only letting Jaehyun orgasm after he's had two of his own because he loves the way denial colors Jaehyun's skin with a desperate flush and warms Jaehyun's mouth up for pleas. Certainly, Taeyong has been selfish around him and with him more than enough to leave marks where they matter.
Unfortunately, those times don't include today. The day Jaehyun's first ever kissing scene in his career as an actor was aired on national TV. The day when Jaehyun had half-expected to come home to a territorial lump on his bed waiting to be cuddled and consoled from jealousy. The day Jaehyun wanted more than anything to take off his role as the nation’s first love (among many) to slip into the one he found most genuine and comfortable: being Taeyong’s boyfriend.
It's absurd, really, this disappointment Jaehyun can't help but nurse in his stomach. He attempts to douse it with the drink in his hand, but the liquid easily turns into fuel when he remembers that the juice box had been a takeaway snack from the food truck that Taeyong sent to the set where he was taping earlier. “As expected of the most generous person in the universe,” Jaehyun mutters lethargically under his breath, face dropping into his hands with a loud exhale.
This is absurd, Jaehyun thinks. It’s absurd because Taeyong himself had said he won't be jealous of the kissing scene, a few weeks ago, when he was helping Jaehyun practice lines from said scene. It's absurd because Jaehyun knows perfectly well that jealousy isn't the acme of romance, that jealousy shouldn't be used to measure the intensity of one's affections when there's trust and loyalty. It’s absurd because, despite these, Jaehyun can't help but wish Taeyong were jealous. Even just a little would've been fine, he tells himself, recalling the way his heart sank when he had come home earlier to a room that was empty save for a congratulatory Jungwoo. Fuck, Taeyong didn't even bother to greet him personally; all he got from the elder was a pithy text message ("jaehyunnie!! you did so well! i knew you could do it. you're my favorite actor. my actor jaehyunnie").
Jaehyun groans again. With his eyes closed, cheek still planted against the counter, and head caged between folded arms, he swings his feet to kick at the wooden body of the kitchen island out of frustration, only for his head to shoot up when he hears someone squeak in response to the blow.
"Hyung, that surprised me," Mark says with a gasp. His hands are rubber-gloved and he's got one of the floor’s communal kitchen aprons on. One didn't have to put in much effort to discern he was in the middle of cleaning while Jaehyun seethed in his seat. In fact, if Jaehyun recalls correctly, Mark is in charge of washing the dishes for tonight, and so explains the cleaning ensemble.
"Are you... okay?" Mark trails, concern dripping from his every word as he returns Jaehyun's how-did-you-get-here-and-why-did-I-not-notice stare with a once-over. "You don't look okay... but I could be wrong. Have you washed up, hyung?"
Jaehyun nods. He's about to ask Mark about his day when Jungwoo strides into the kitchen and personifies a wall in between them.
"It's Taeyong hyung," says Jungwoo, his words punctuated by the noise he makes as he opens the refrigerator and takes out a pitcher to pour himself a glass of water. "Our actor Jaehyun is upset cause of Taeyong hyung."
"Oh.” Mark blinks. “Thought so.” He takes a moment to turn and begin washing the dishes on the sink before he continues to ask, "What did Taeyong hyung do?"
"More like what he didn't do," Jungwoo quips, looking smug.
Jaehyun winces. "Am I that obvious?" he asks, at which both Jungwoo and Mark nod in acquiescence. It makes Jaehyun lean forwards to once again plant his head against the counter. "What gave it off…?"
"Well, for one, you're still here," Jungwoo starts, words dropping fast and tone as-a-matter-of-fact, "Usually you'd be downstairs at this hour. Or Taeyong hyung would be in our room with you, and I'd be sexiled here, in the kitchen. I'm here not on my own volition, you know. I've been conditioned to."
A clatter of plates against the sink, and Mark is suddenly wrestling with a coughing fit. Jaehyun feels crimson rise to his cheeks.
"We don't do it here," Jaehyun says with indignation, only to correct himself when he receives nothing but a knowing silence from both Mark and Jungwoo. "I mean, at least not when any of you guys are around…" he amends, then continues with emphasis, "But, anyway, we never sexiled you, Jungwoo. That shouldn't even be the point here."
"You're right—the point is that you're still here." Jungwoo smiles, winking at Jaehyun before tipping his head up to take the water in his cup as one would a shot glass.
"I think Jungwoo hyung is getting at something, hyung," Mark tells Jaehyun as he turns around with a shrug. He wipes his gloved hands against his apron before he starts methodically stripping himself off his cleaning garments. "If you're really upset at Taeyong hyung, shouldn't you just go up or invite him over to talk to him about it?"
Normally, he would, Jaehyun thinks. After all, he’s the type who doesn't like going to bed with unsettled problems, especially when those problems are ones concerning his relationship with Taeyong. But today he feels defeated, mostly because he thinks it's stupid and shameful to be feeling the way he is over a non-problem. Taeyong trusts him enough not to be jealous over a kissing scene he's paid to act out, where’s the problem there? If everything were up to Jaehyun, he wouldn’t want to dwell over it any longer.
"I know I would. Reach out when the person's within reach. I mean, communication is key, isn't it? You said this yourself, hyung," Mark says, his boyish voice suddenly fraught with a sensibility so sage-like that it causes Jaehyun to straighten himself up in his seat.
Jaehyun rises just in time to witness Jungwoo conjure a liter of soju out of the fridge and drop it onto the counter and under his nose.
"It's either you talk with Taeyong hyung or talk it out with us," Jungwoo proffers with the arch of his brow, and Jaehyun thinks about his early day at work tomorrow, how unprofessional it would be to show up with swollen eyes, a headache, and a bruised resolve; and, of course, of how all of that could be avoided if he would just talk to Taeyong.
Finally, after a mini stare-off with Mark and Jungwoo, he says, "I'm fine, thanks.” Though smiling, he sounds every bit apologetic, and he begins to look like the sentiment when he drives the soju away from him as he stands up, squaring his shoulders as he does so. “I guess I’ll go down,” he decides, and it earns him looks of approval from his members.
If only to get it over with, he tells himself as he waves off Mark and Jungwoo’s good luck cheers and walks away from the kitchen.
It’s late and there might even be a chance that Taeyong is at the studio instead of his room, but Jaehyun proceeds.
Just to get it over with. Just to get it off his chest.
Because as much as he no longer wants to dwell on it, Jaehyun realizes Taeyong still deserves to know. Besides, it’s infinitely better to have it out now than—as he knows himself to have done more than once before—have the issue be buried only to be dug up with resentment later. Certainly, he’s better than that.
Going to Taeyong tonight with his heart in his hands, if not on his sleeve, is making sure he’ll be better than that.
The elevator ride from the tenth floor to the fifth is uneventful, and so is entering the main door to the residence area. With the exception of Johnny and Doyoung who greet him in the living room with the usual praise topped with pursed lips and kissing sounds to signify that they, too, watched Jaehyun’s drama earlier, there isn’t much to consider as liveliness on the building level.
Taeyong’s room, too, is quiet. In fact, Jaehyun finds it deserted the moment he opens the door to peek inside after having knocked thrice. Doyoung and Johnny did say they saw Taeyong enter the shower about half an hour ago, Jaehyun reminds himself as soon as he felt the same disappointment from earlier weigh down his chest at the sight of the empty room. Taeyong is at home, not the studio. Taeyong is in the bathroom and has always liked taking his time when it came to bathing.
Sighing, Jaehyun pushes open further the door to Taeyong’s room, but he doesn’t come in, at least not immediately. Instead he stands in the doorway for a moment, one hand on the doorknob and eyes surveying the room which he realizes he hasn’t been in for almost an entire month. Jaehyun feels something in his chest seize.
Not much has changed in Taeyong’s room since the last time he stepped foot in it. Apart from new drawings on the walls and a few additions to Taeyong’s already thriving plant family, everything is still the same. Still familiar.
Still Taeyong, Jaehyun remarks.
Just then he becomes conscious of the sound of bare feet padding against the floor, but in the midst of turning around to face its source, Jaehyun finds himself ambushed and then pinned to his place by the doorway with two arms snaking around his waist and the familiar warmth of someone’s chest pressing against his back. This, too, he thinks after the initial shock has subsided, is familiar.
“Didn’t know you were visiting,” Taeyong speaks from behind him, voice low and breath fanning goosebumps over Jaehyun’s nape.
"Wasn’t supposed to," is what Jaehyun manages to croak out as an answer, the succeeding "but here I am," rendered mute as he feels himself being pulled closer into Taeyong's back hug. The elder's arms around him are tight, and they loosen only after Taeyong has taken a minute or two to bury his face in the bend where Jaehyun's neck meets one of his shoulders, against which Taeyong breathes as though to inhale Jaehyun's presence, his wet hair matting a damp spot on the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt.
Taeyong smells of clean linen and shampoo, Jaehyun notes; and he begins to say, “Hyung,” only to cut himself off, choosing instead to communicate the words suddenly closed up in his throat by grazing his fingers over Taeyong's arm to settle at his elbows.
What follows this pause is a hum from Taeyong, who seems to understand Jaehyun’s request as he drops his arms from the younger’s waist to his hips to guide the slow turn of the younger's body to him. Then, they're face-to-face. Again.
In the past weeks spent only barely seeing each other, close physical contacts such as the one they're finding themselves relishing now is the only thing that has been inching towards the unfamiliar between him and Taeyong, Jaehyun remarks. The cause doesn't need much explanation: they've both been horribly busy—scratch that, they still are horribly busy, so much so that tonight's meeting can be considered a hitch in their schedules as much as it is a pleasant surprise. It's a fact that all of a sudden lends both light and validity to Jaehyun's feelings about Taeyong's non-reaction to his kissing scene.
“Hey, you," Taeyong says with an easy smile. His hands are no longer on either side of Jaehyun's hips but wrapped around Jaehyun's wrists, which they swing feebly with the question: "Wanna come in?”
Jaehyun nods, and the door closes behind him and Taeyong.
Wordlessly, they disentangle themselves from each other to find and settle in their places inside the room. Taeyong makes his way to the drawer to fetch a small towel for his head, while Jaehyun sits down on the edge of the bed out of habit, feet on the floor and elbows bent backwards to prop himself up on the mattress.
“You say you’re not supposed to be here, and yet you are,” Taeyong prompts not a moment later, and Jaehyun—who sits barely an arm’s length from where he stands—stares up at him as he pats his hair dry with the towel. “What changed?”
“Uhm,” Jaehyun starts dumbly. He has some semblance of a script in his head but, like earlier, the words crowd in his throat, especially after Taeyong drops down to sit beside him on the bed, one side of his white sweater slipping down to reveal a collarbone shiny with water from having just showered.
Jaehyun wills himself to look away. “I just want your opinion on something,” he answers with a cough.
“Sure. What is it?” Taeyong says with an eager nod, his dark eyes rounded with both expectancy and concern.
It makes Jaehyun almost wish he could do away with his being upset so that his answer to Taeyong’s question would be something that would permit him to soothe the nervous curl on Taeyong’s upper lip, which only shows itself whenever the elder is worried. But he forges on: “It’s about my drama…”
“Your drama,” Taeyong echoes, pursing his lips as he glances at the analog clock by the bedside table. “Do you need help with it? It’s late, but I can still help you practice your script.”
“No, it’s okay.” Jaehyun shakes his head.
“Early day tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but it’s not that.”
“What is it then?”
Jaehyun swallows, his eyes falling to Taeyong’s hands, which rest on the elder’s lap along with the towel that was used earlier. There's no better window than this moment to air out his grievances, Jaehyun realizes. Now that he has Taeyong’s full attention—not that it was hard to get—he only needs to find the right words to dig up whatever has burrowed itself in his chest and everything will be fine again. Or at least that’s how he imagines the ideal aftermath to be in this situation.
Lifting his chin to meet Taeyong’s inquisitive gaze, he says, “About today’s episode… you know, the one that was on TV earlier.”
Taeyong nods. “Uh huh,” he seems to say, which is encouragement enough for Jaehyun, who proceeds:
“The episode earlier, the one with the kissing scene.”
Taeyong nods again, and Jaehyun wishes he didn’t have to say anything. But, as it turns out, he does, and so he sighs and tenses his shoulders before finally letting go of the question he has been meaning to ask all day, “How did you feel about it?”
“Oh.” Taeyong blinks, and then rounds his mouth as though struck with understanding. “I liked it. I thought you did really well,” he says, nodding to himself with a thumb folded below his chin in consideration. “It was even better than when we practiced it, I think. If you were here earlier, you would’ve seen all the reactions. Everyone was watching it in the living room, even the guys from upstairs.”
“Really,” Jaehyun says, voice coming out more deadpan than intended. He tries to remedy his response, but finds it too late when Taeyong sends him a look of suspicion.
“Yeah?” Taeyong says, head tilting to one side. “Is everything okay?”
“No, yeah. Everything’s fine.” Jaehyun says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I just… I just thought I did badly. In the kissing scene, I mean.”
“Really?” Taeyong frowns, pushing his eyebrows down in concern. “What makes you think so?”
“I had difficulty with it,” is what Jaehyun answers. Because I was kissing someone who wasn’t you , is what he wants to add, but doesn’t.
“I thought it was a great scene,” Taeyong says with solemnity after a moment. Once again, his hands reach out to find their places around Jaehyun’s wrists, against which they press warmth like agents of comfort—though Jaehyun would argue they’re also agents of persuasion, especially when Taeyong keeps going, “I don’t know much about cinematography, but I do know emotions, and that scene had a lot. Watching it, I went ‘wow, Jaehyunnie is a real actor now.’ It made me feel so proud,” Taeyong comments, his face lit up and matching the eagerness in his voice. He opens his mouth as though to say more, only to be held back when Jaehyun seals his lips with a palm.
“Hyung, it’s okay. I get it,” Jaehyun laughs, albeit weakly. He keeps his hand over Taeyong’s mouth for a few seconds more, dropping it only when the elder leans back and lets his shoulders drop along with the enthusiasm he built around whatever he was planning to say. If he wasn’t hung up on something, Jaehyun would’ve found it endearing, just how much Taeyong is set on comforting him. But alas, he is; and Taeyong, to him, at the moment, is sorely missing the point.
“Sorry,” Taeyong apologizes with a smile, hands back to fiddling with the loose threads on the towel over his lap. “I got too excited. Should I have listened first...?”
“No, really, it’s alright. It's not what you think… I just.”
“Tell me,” Taeyong coaxes. “Please, baby?”
Lifting a hand to scratch at his nape, Jaehyun heaves out a sigh. He doesn't know if the weight he finds once again bearing down his chest should be blamed on the familiar pet name he just heard from Taeyong or on himself for half-expecting his boyfriend would be actually bothered over the kissing scene the way he wants him to be. Even just a little bit would’ve been enough, he repeats to himself, but the concession no longer makes him feel less ridiculous for wanting something he logically knows to be juvenile.
“I kissed someone else,” he answers, and looking into Taeyong’s eyes, which glance back at him as though urging him to carry on, repeats the question he’s been anguishing over all day, “How did you feel about that?”
One of the most important skills that constitute effective acting, Jaehyun thinks, is knowing how different emotions manifest themselves on the body, particularly the face. Sadness, for instance, finds residence behind glassy eyes and in certain curves of the eyebrows and the mouth. Likewise, happiness can be put on with tears, as long as the rest of the face betrays delight from a wish fulfilled or the despairing relief from a life spared.
Right now, with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in question, Taeyong is—Jaehyun can tell—positively confused.
“Should I be feeling anything… besides proud of you for carrying it out well?” Taeyong mutters, more to himself than Jaehyun, who stays quiet and unmoving in his seat as Taeyong thinks out loud.
Then, there’s a look on Taeyong’s face which strikes Jaehyun as a mix between surprise and understanding, the kind of look that one would suspect to be followed by a sprightly jump. But it doesn’t stay for long, its control over Taeyong’s face lent over to a question as quickly as it had appeared: “Wait,” Taeyong says, narrowing his eyes at Jaehyun. Hesitation clouds his features, and when he speaks, he does as though he’s hoping Jaehyun will negate him right after.
“Am I supposed to be jealous?” Taeyong finishes, and Jaehyun feels his gut lurch at the mention of the exact word he’s been dissecting over and over again in his head only to hear it whole and unabashed from Taeyong’s mouth.
“No?” Jaehyun says, flinching visibly when the statement comes out as a question. “I mean, I’m really just wondering because I, uh, I have a makeout scene to film,” he adds, deciding on a whim to forget being upset even after everything that he’s gone through so far tonight, if only because having the issue out in the open in the manner that it is being pried away from him at the moment renders him more vulnerable than he prepared himself to be. “Yeah, a makeout scene. We’re actually filming it soon. I just thought you should know.”
Taeyong stares, then says, “Well, I don’t mind. It’s your job, after all. You didn’t have to tell me.” There’s another pause, during which he scoots closer to Jaehyun, the towel on his lap falling to the ground without a sound. “That is, unless you’re worried I’ll be jealous.”
“Would you be?”
A beat. Then, Taeyong asks, “Do you want me to be?”
Jaehyun almost scoffs. “Of course not. Who would?”
“You?” Taeyong supposes. Once again he moves closer to Jaehyun, who leans back in vain to mitigate the sudden proximity between their bodies. “I mean, if I were jealous,” lifting a hand to touch Jaehyun’s arm, where it then moves up to a shoulder, the side of a throat, the jaw, and stops only when it arrives at Jaehyun’s cheek, Taeyong says, voice quiet as though revealing a secret, “I’d find ways to make sure everyone knows you’re mine and mine alone.”
All at once, several things run through Jaehyun’s head: first, that the hand on his cheek is warm; second, that Taeyong’s voice just then was coarse and menacingly low; third, that the Taeyong next to him is a sharp contrast to the sulky, bundled-in-one-of-Jaehyun’s-hoodies, jealous Taeyong he had imagined earlier; and fourth, which is perhaps the most important of all, is that though he prefers to be the one doing the consoling rather than the one being consoled, right now, with Taeyong’s warm hand on his cheek and Taeyong’s eyes on him, he can’t seem to bring himself to care. Taeyong has worn his hoodies many times before, Jaehyun thinks, certainly more times than Taeyong has threatened to make him feel better with possessiveness. The latter doesn’t sound so bad. In fact—judging only from the hand on his cheek and its possible implications—it feels good.
Jaehyun blinks, and then, without forewarning, Taeyong breaks out into a laugh.
It’s the explosive kind of laugh. The eyes closed, mouth opened, and shoulders shaking kind of laugh. The laugh that Taeyong does when he finds something undeniably funny and can’t bear to hold the laughter in even if it makes him seem impolite.
What exactly Taeyong is finding funny, however, Jaehyun can’t begin to guess. He only gets an answer when Taeyong calms down enough to be able speak without interrupting his sentences with laughter:
“You know, I’m starting to doubt you’re an actor,” Taeyong says, eyes full of mirth. He lifts the hand he has on Jaehyun’s cheek and, with his other hand, moves to pinch Jaehyun’s ears. “You really can’t act to hide things from me. Do you know why, Jaehyunnie? Cause your ears are always honest with me. Look, they’re ruby red,” he teases. Then, after Jaehyun has swatted his hands from where they were squeezing the younger’s ears, says, this time with both hands dropping to pinch at Jaehyun’s cheeks, “You’re upset cause I wasn’t jealous about the kissing scene earlier.”
“‘M not.” Jaehyun shakes his head, even though he finds it hard to move with Taeyong’s fingers on his face.
It only makes Taeyong pinch Jaehyun’s cheeks even more. He refuses to let go even when the younger winces and begins swatting at his hands again.
“Fine, fine, maybe I am, ” Jaehyun concedes.
Taeyong mock-glares at him. “Just ‘maybe’?”
“Okay. Certainly. A little— Let go,” Jaehyun flounders in place, sighing when Taeyong finally lets go of his cheeks, which he then proceeds to rub with his own hands, hoping the marks from the cheek-abuse blend well enough with the flush he feels rising to his face. “If you already knew, why didn’t you just say so from the start?” he asks, the touch of his hands as they rub his cheeks doing little to soothe his bruised ego.
“Partly because I wanted you to tell me and because teasing you is fun,” Taeyong answers. Then, he adds, his voice ridding itself of cheekiness to make way for something more gentle, “But mostly because I wasn’t completely sure you were upset until earlier. Didn’t think you would be, to be honest. Not over something like this.”
“I know. I didn’t think I’d be like this either,” Jaehyun mutters. He senses the same shame he felt many times earlier about the issue stir anew in his stomach, and his head dips as his lips stretch into a smile—one that even he can tell borders on self-deprecating.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Taeyong fusses, scooting closer to Jaehyun and reaching out to pull Jaehyun’s hands into his lap. He showers them with touches, fingers tracing imperfect circles over the skin and the knuckles. “Jaehyunnie, look at me. There’s nothing wrong with being upset over it.”
Jaehyun chuckles, his smile growing tighter. “But it’s stupid,” he says, feeling himself shrink in his place. “I don’t… I don’t like that I’m feeling it even when I know I shouldn’t be.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking?” Taeyong coaxes. “It can’t be stupid when it’s making you feel like this.”
And, suddenly tired from the weight he’s been bearing in his chest, Jaehyun obliges. “I guess I got fooled into thinking it’s how it’s supposed to be?” he says with another half-meant laugh. “I mean, even Kyungsoo hyung warned me about it. Said the reason he makes sure to shake hands with his leading ladies after kissing scenes is cause Baekhyun hyung got jealous one time and had to be courted for a week.”
Taeyong hums thoughtfully. “So you thought something similar would happen to us?”
“Not exactly.” Jaehyun scratches his head, avoiding Taeyong’s eyes as he does so. This isn’t easy, he thinks, feeling simultaneously victimized and at fault, but Taeyong urges him on. “It’s more like I wanted… It’s bad, but I secretly wished it would happen, that you would be jealous, because I wanted the opportunity to prove… something, you know?”
A pause, then Taeyong asks, “Why?”
Jaehyun shrugs, swallows the lump in this throat. “Just felt like I needed it.”
“Just felt like you needed it,” Taeyong echoes and, here, he looks at Jaehyun closely, his eyes narrowing as though to study the younger. After a while, he nods and, in a manner that suggests he’s arrived at what he personally thinks to be the best resolution, says, “Then let me give it to you.”
It. What exactly is ‘it,’ Jaehyun asks himself. What was it that he needed? To prove himself? His feelings? Taeyong’s feelings? Their feelings? Their relationship? Why—despite everything he knows to be true about those things and knows to be logical about how healthy relationships work—is he feeling this way over something that shouldn’t even be a problem?
It’s a little bit of everything , is what Taeyong seems to suggest when he says, “Listen, Jaehyunnie, I’m not jealous because… well, I simply don’t have any reason to be.” Taeyong smiles weakly, and there’s something in his eyes that reminds Jaehyun of how happiness and gratitude manifest themselves on a face. “More than the fact that I know such things as having to kiss other people is part of your job—your dream job—I also know how you really feel. About me. About us. And, unfortunately for you and Kyungsoo hyung and I guess everyone else who has the same expectations, I’m secure in what I feel. In what you feel. You don’t need to do anything more to prove it. If anything, it looks like I should be the one who needs to be doing more.”
At that, Jaehyun blinks more times than necessary. “Wait, what?” he asks, nonplussed. “Taeyongie, that’s not— What?”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Taeyong reassures him. “I just think that, if I had been jealous, even just a little bit, then maybe you wouldn’t have had to be upset in the first place. It must’ve felt like I didn’t care enough for you, right?”
“Yeah.” Jaehyun nods once, seeing that there’s no point anymore in lying. “It did,” he asserts and, all of a sudden, he feels breathless. It’s amazing, he thinks, the kind of relief Taeyong just gave him from that single question—from having been read and understood, from getting to admit to something he wouldn’t dare put together using his own words. It’s at once liberating and comforting, he tells himself, his head dipping low, chin to his chest, teeth burying into his lower lip, a familiar burn rising to his face and ears—
“Okay,” Taeyong begins, his eyes focused and intense as they take in Jaehyun’s face. “Maybe I am jealous… Just a little bit.”
“You are?” Jaehyun asks dumbly; whatever elaborate questioning he should be formulating in his head to make the most out of a jealous Taeyong disappears into thin air at the suggestion.
“Yep,” Taeyong says, “Jealous cause she got to kiss you when I haven’t kissed you myself in so long. Just a little, though.”
And Jaehyun feels his breathing hitch. There’s nothing his face-reading skills can provide past ‘tantalizing’ to describe the way Taeyong is looking at him, nor can he guess—or, more accurately, dare to remember—which gestures should mean which when Taeyong moves from tracing circles over his knuckles to wrapping fingers around his wrists to tug him closer.
Malleable now more than ever, Jaehyun’s body follows, and when it stops it does so with one ear near Taeyong’s mouth, which shortly begins to speak to him: “Say, Jaehyunnie,” it starts, low and suggestive, “what if we practiced that makeout scene you said you were going to be filming soon?”
There’s no makeout scene in the drama, Jaehyun tells himself, but there could very well be one in this room. And so he lets it happen. Lights on, no cameras, all action:
On cue, Jaehyun plunges forward to grab Taeyong’s face in both hands and kiss Taeyong the way he’s been aching to for weeks. And, right then and there, with Taeyong’s mouth equally wanting and melting open against his without needing to be coaxed, it hits him: he misses this. He misses Taeyong.
He misses everything about this: how Taeyong feels pressed against him, how Taeyong’s hair feels like in the spaces between his fingers when he places his hand behind Taeyong’s head to keep him close, how Taeyong smells and tastes, how Taeyong allows his limbs to give under his touch, how Taeyong moans into the kiss and under his touch, how Taeyong knows just exactly how to be kissed and how to kiss him. This , Jaehyun realizes in between lifting Taeyong to lay him over the pillows and kiss him more and deeper into the mattress, is so unlike the kiss he had to give as an actor, where forcefulness was translated to prove his character’s passion. Here, with his mouth against Taeyong’s, everything slows. Even impatience, which Taeyong portrays well by pulling at Jaehyun’s shirt in different directions, is turned into something beautiful and worthwhile. Here, nothing needs to be said or proven; everything that needs to be already exists in the desperate way they cling to each other.
When they break away for air, they move seamlessly from mouth-against-mouth to forehead-against-forehead. Taeyong sits with his legs parted on either side of Jaehyun’s hips, his whole weight pressing down on Jaehyun’s crotch, while Jaehyun lies below him on the bed with hands resting on his waist.
Laughing, Taeyong leans over to cup Jaehyun’s face with both hands and plant a kiss on Jaehyun’s cheek. “My non-professional actor’s opinion is that you’re a natural,” he then says, and his voice comes out breathless, sounding almost like a gasp through his smile. “God, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Jaehyun says, propping himself up on his elbows to chase Taeyong’s lips with a peck when the elder begins to lean back.
There’s a brief pause where Taeyong just looks down at him, his eyes unreadable. “What is it?” Jaehyun asks, curious about Taeyong’s sudden silence.
Taeyong shakes his head, seemingly to say nothing’s wrong. His smile, which just a moment ago had been bright and uninhibited, now bears a certain shyness as he says, “I know I said this was practice for your future makeout scenes, but can you promise not to kiss anyone the way you just kissed me?”
Jaehyun inhales through his mouth. “Taeyongie,” is the only thing that he manages to say, though it’s not like Taeyong would have let him interrupt.
“Because I think, on the slight chance that it will happen, I’ll really be jealous then,” Taeyong finishes. His hands, which were cupping Jaehyun’s face, have now dropped to wrap around Jaehyun’s wrists, and they proceed to inch down until his fingers intertwine with and slot in between Jaehyun’s.
“It won’t. I promise.” Jaehyun laughs. “You didn’t even need to ask,” he says, giving Taeyong’s hands a squeeze. It’s a promise he’s confident he won’t find hard to keep.