Work Text:
Sunday, 7.09 p.m.
The black-haired boy was looking at Yuta with an unreadable expression, the noodles from the cup ramen he was eating still hanging from his closed mouth. Yuta barely managed to remember to excuse himself for barging into the other’s room and to step back before Doyoung could blink and finish slurping them, seemingly unimpressed.
“So.” He turned slightly in his office chair to reach for the napkins, not letting go of his… lunch? Dinner? Yet, “ You are the one who’s been blasting that noise all around the dorm for the past two days?”
That made Yuta suddenly aware that every speaker in their floor was still playing Lordi’s Would you love a monsterman in admittedly a bit of a louder-than-decent volume. He hurried to fish his phone out of his jeans and lower it, mumbling a sorry for that . Meanwhile Doyoung just dabbed at his mouth with the napkin, looking too dignified for someone sitting cross-legged on his office chair, wearing tracksuit pants and a hoodie from their college, eating the cheapest cup ramen one could buy in the supermarket.
“I thought I was alone. Why didn’t you say anything the first time?” And how come I haven’t seen you around all weekend, he wanted to ask, but he probably wasn’t in the position to put The Kim Doyoung under an interrogation right now.
“Honestly, with the kind of music you were playing I assumed it would come from one of those... straight pretentious assholes from the third floor, and I didn’t want to fight them.” He shrugged, “I was hoping they’d leave on Monday. I guess I won’t be that lucky since it turned out to be you though.”
He went back to eating after saying that and Yuta wasn’t sure if that was his way of kicking him out but he wasn’t going to comply. That fucker had implied that he listened to straight people’s music and that he was displeased with having to share the dorms with him during the quarantine. Not that Yuta was happy about that fact either, obviously, but at least he was decent enough not to tell Doyoung to his face.
“No, unfortunately for you , flying back to Japan three months earlier than expected wasn’t really an option, so I’m stuck here, disturbing you with my presence.” He leaned against the doorframe, defiant.
Doyoung took a moment to finish the ramen and throw it in the trash bin before speaking again. “Well, nice to know you’re going to keep on being a pain in the ass. Guess it was too much to ask that you would behave.” He stood up and approached the door, making it obvious that he intended to close it and leave Yuta out, but the latter didn’t move so he just raised an eyebrow - oh, so he was capable of making expressions after all . “May I enjoy the rest of my night alone, Nakamoto?”
“It’s only like, seven, and it’s supper sunny outside, hardly night, but eh, you do you. I’ll be in Ten’s room if you need me!” He had waved goodbye and turned around to leave, but after taking a few steps and not hearing the click of the door closing, he turned again. Doyoung’s head was peeking from the doorframe and he was looking at the other with a frown. “What?”
“Ten’s room? Not your own?”
“Yeah, his bed is the comfiest one on this floor and he gave me permission, so.” And that way he could take care of Ten and Taeyong’s little potted plants, but that wasn’t any of Doyoung’s business. The taller didn’t seem to get that, though.
“What do you mean on this floor … have you gone around trying them all out or something?”
“Hmm,” he shrugged and turned away again, walking with intent. “Anyhow, good night, Doyoung! See you for breakfast, if you’ll grace me with your presence!”
He only heard the door lock once he was getting around the corner.
Monday, 9.03 a.m.
The sound of someone dragging a chair, gritting against the floor from the table behind him, startled Yuta, who was brewing some water in a pot to make coffee and almost found himself scalded instead. If this was the way the Universe had to tell him he needed a shower, it was incredibly rude of the Universe itself. He was going to shower after his morning workout! He promised!
“Sorry,” Doyoung said, paying no attention to the rage Yuta was holding against the ministrations of the Cosmos, and not sounding sorry at all if one were to go by the laughter that threatened to accompany his words, “didn’t mean to scare you.” He was sitting cross-legged on the chair, both hands on top of the table, and apparently fully dressed for the day - in a striking contrast with Yuta’s old t-shirt and sweatpants that he had slept on.
“You didn’t scare me, I just didn’t expect nor hear you come...” He turned around and offered him his most polite smile, which is to say his most real-looking fake smile. “Good morning! I’m making coffee, do you want some?”
“No, thanks, I don’t like coffee. I’ll wait for you to finish and make some tea.” Thank God, because he was already pouring himself his cup and didn’t really feel like preparing another one.
“Ooh, interesting. One would think you would like it bitter” Yuta leaned back against the kitchen counter, using his elbows as leverage, watching Doyoung scoff and look to the side with an incredulous smile.
“Well, maybe you should try being sweet for a change, see if I like you better?” He was mindlessly inspecting his cuticles, but Yuta caught the way his eyes flickered in his direction searching for a reaction.
“Excuse you, I’m an extremely sweet person. I’m just selective with whom I bless with that daunting kindness of mine.”
Doyoung seemed to open his mouth to snap back but instead scrunched his nose and looked around. “Is something burning? It smells funny.”
“Oh, fuck.” He turned around to where his toasts were worryingly starting to become square slices of coal, and hurried to get them out of the pan and put them on his plate. He might have burned himself a little on the process because in the rush he had grabbed them with his bare hands, but he thinks he masked it pretty well.
Dignity: secured. Breakfast: kinda secured. His coffee had cooled down and the toasts were somewhat salvageable if he scraped them enough.
Who cared about Doyoung’s judging stare anyways, he thought as he sat himself at the kitchen table, mug on one side and two thinned down and buttered up toasts on a plate on the other. Certainly not him! He took a big bite of one of the toasts, watching Doyoung rustle between the pots cabinet in some increasingly frantic search.
"If you're looking for the electric kettle Catherine took it back home, it was hers." The rustling stopped and Doyoung turned around to look at him, still crouched down and with one hand inside the cabinet. Didn’t his ankles hurt?
“The black and silver one?” He was frowning a bit in confusion. Yuta nodded and Doyoung fucking pouted. “But that’s the one everyone used, I didn’t know…. I would have asked for permission.” The pouting was already bad in itself, but he also somehow suddenly appeared younger, almost cute. If a demon like Kim Doyoung could ever morph into something slightly resembling cute, that is.
“Don’t worry about it, she said we could all use it as long as we were careful and clean and shit.” Still pouting. Please please someone make it go away. “It’s fine, really, everyone on the floor used it.” A long sip of his coffee later, the frown was gone, but the pout wasn’t.
“Well… I guess? How do I make my tea th-” he had gotten up abruptly and hit his head with the cupboard door that was still open over his head, “ ouch! ” he let himself fall over the counter, taking his left hand up to cover the hit spot.
Yuta hurried to his side, stuttering up nonsense that was intended to be calming words, and carefully took Doyoung’s hand away to inspect the damage. The other let him, but couldn’t repress a hiss of pain.
“It’s okay, you’re not bleeding, it’s okay” he muttered in what he hoped was a soothing voice, and Doyoung let out a breath. Little, glimmery tears were peeping from the corner of his eyes, though, so it must really hurt. “Wait, let me get you some ice” he looked around the counter for the kitchen cloth and gestured the boy to sit on one of the chairs while he went to the freezer and picked up the first thing he saw.
He approached Doyoung, bag of frozen peas wrapped in the cloth, and put one hand on his shoulder to press the cold bundle against the back of his head, replacing the hand that had returned there. Doyoung suppressed a shiver, but he let Yuta press the bundle against the sore spot.
“Feeling better?” A little affirmative hum came as a response. “It didn’t even sound that loud, how come you’ve hurt yourself so bad?”
“I think I hit the corner… ugh that was. So dumb.” He raised his hand and put it on top of Yuta’s own, trying to hold the bag himself. “Thank you, I can handle it from here.” Yuta didn’t let go of the bag of peas, though; instead, he used the one that was on Doyoung’s shoulder to flick at his arm, urging him to get it back down. When that didn’t work, he grabbed the arm and carefully forced him to lower it.
“Can you stop being dumb for a second and let me help,” Yuta crouched down slightly to get on the boy’s eyesight line, to give more power to his words and defy Doyoung’s indingnant stare. He wasn’t going to let the bag go! He was taking care of someone injured!
But he had miscalculated how close they actually were, and overlooked the fact that he was not only towering over Doyoung but also with both hands on him, and it god really weird very quickly after realisation hit him. Or, hit them, he deduced from the sudden bob of Doyoung’s adam’s apple.
“Anyway,” he looked away and loosened his grip on the cloth, letting the other grab it himself and stepping back awkwardly, “Let me boil you some water for your tea.”
The rest of their breakfast was... remarkably uneventful. Yuta followed Doyoung’s indications for the tea, and they both had their respective food, put their things away in the dishwasher, then left back to their rooms. Yuta got to Ten’s door first, but even though Doyoung had said a polite goodbye , he didn’t say it back. He stood there, door already open, and said in a grave voice that if his head kept hurting, or if he needed anythign at all, he should contact him immediately. Doyoung just scoffed to hide a nervous laughter.
“I’m not going to die, I just hit my head, relax.” His eyebrow stayed arched, his feet planted on the ground. Doyoung seemed to give in a little. “And besides I don’t have your number or anything, I would just call anyone else for help if I needed it.”
“First of all, that’s a very bad pick up strategy to get my phone number, especially since we’re both in the debate club groupchat and it’d be ridiculously easy for you to get it,” was that a blush from frustration creeping under the younger’s skin? Nice. Before he could open his mouth to spit any more shit, Yuta made a wide gesture with his arm to dramatically point at his door, “and secondly, we live literally on the same building, on the same floor.” He used the leverage he already had on the handle from his theatrics to open the door, “So please don’t be dumb, as hard as that will be for you. Have a good day!”
He was very grateful his closed door muffled out whatever curses Doyoung was throwing in his direction.
Tuesday, 3.00 p.m.
Doyoung hesitated for a second before knocking on Ten’s - well, Yuta’s - door. Was he being overly friendly with the other boy, considering the mutual animosity they had been nurturing for the entirety of their stay here? No, he told himself. He was being practical .
One, two, three; four quick and loud knocks on the white wood. A step back, and the sound of sheets rustling coming from inside before the door was half opened and he had a very sleepy Yuta in front of him.
“Uh. Did I wake you up?”
“Yeah, kinda,” the coarseness of his voice testified in his favour, and he tried to supress a yawn, “was taking a nap, but I think it’s time I got up anyway…” the door closed slightly, and the older cleared his voice; “did you want something?”
Doyoung raised his cloth bag and put it between them, as if shielding himself with the piece of fabric. “I was thinking of going grocery shopping and thought maybe you’d like to come with. That way we can distribute the weight of the bags more efficiently.”
“More efficiently”, Yuta mimicked, a strong hint of mockery in his tone. “Yeah, sure, give me a minute.”
The boy disappeared inside the room again and Doyoung just stood there, toying with his phone awkwardly, not sure of what to do. His mindless scrolling down Twitter was quickly interrupted by Yuta reappearing in front of him, apparently having just thrown a hoodie, a face mask and some shoes on, not even fixing his hair. Doyoung appreciated that he didn’t want to make him wait, but opened his mouth to let him know it was okay if he wanted to take a little more time. Yuta, though, put his hood up covering his head and started walking, with a lively let’s go shot in his direction.
The supermarket was really close to their dorms, across the main road that lead to the campus where all of the university buildings were stacked together. It was a short walk they had ahead. They reached the end of their street in complete silence, but once they got around the corner and caught a glimpse of their faculty building in the distance, they both started talking at the same time. A mix of a I can’t believe I’m- and a God it feels so weird t- got spat out before they caught themselves and told the other to go first.
“I, uhm. I was thinking it feels so weird to see this street completely empty at this time. It’s when I usually have to go to class.” Doyoung said as he approached the stoplight, waiting for Yuta right on the edge of the road.
Yuta just looked left and right to the deserted surroundings and crossed. In red. Preposterous. Even if no car had ever, or would, come across this street in hours. Doyoung followed him nonetheless, he didn’t want to miss what he was saying. “Yeah, I usually get back by around this time too if I’m not still at the cafeteria, so I get you. It’s a strange feeling.”
Doyoung hummed in agreement. “What were you going to say though?” They passed the subway entrance, and accidentally disturbed a couple of baby sparrows that were enjoying their solitude and free time. As they flew away clearly offended, Yuta responded “Nothing, I just couldn’t believe I was going to miss attending a lecture of Spanish Grammar and have that sorry excuse for a teacher spit on my notes while he talks again.” A mostly empty bus passed them by, and they were both distracted for a second; “Online classes suck and I can’t even see my friends, so. Worst of both worlds.”
“Well,” Doyoung tried to see the silver lining, “at least your notes are spit-free now?” He was met with a chuckle.
“Yeah, well, they’re content-free too. Fuck it if I can focus enough on class to write anything down.”
They had reached the doors of the supermarket; following Doyoung’s calculations, virtually no one was out for groceries at this ungodly hour, so they didn’t have to wait in line. Thank God, because they weren’t supposed to go grocery shopping together. But they technically did and didn’t live together, so they figured it would be fine as long as they each took a cart, what with the face masks and the personal distance and all.
“I don’t know, I’m doing just fine.” They were putting on the plastic gloves as instructed by the security guard, but while Doyoung was getting his cart, Yuta was having some trouble opening one of them. “It’s not much harder to stay awake now than it was in person, and at least now the teachers can’t notice if I’m on Twitter all the while - do you want any help with that?”
“No, it’s fine.” Did he have to be this stubborn for everything? He motioned to help, but the glove magically opened right that instant. “See?”
“Whatever. Let’s each get our things and meet in the bread aisle in... fifteen minutes?” The other nodded and made a salute sign with his hand as he pushed his cart away, and Doyoung made his way for the fruits and vegetables section.
What he didn’t expect though was to keep bumping into him with each new aisle he went to. They were both searching for canned goods one minute, then Yuta disappeared and when Doyoung moved forward three hallways to get some pasta, there he was, looking at two different types of macaroni. After getting his tagliatelle and spaghetti on his own cart, Doyoung approached the other to say, “They taste the same, Nakamoto, don’t stress over it and grab whichever.” He didn’t seem to appreciate his very helpful piece of advice, though, since he pushed his cart away with his own while muttering social distancing, Doyoung .
Well, maybe he was really passionate about his pasta choices, he shrugged as he made way for the freezers. Was it too soon in the year to be eating ice cream? Maybe Yuta was a pasta connoisseur or something. No, to hell with it. If it was twenty-five degrees outside he was allowed to eat all the ice cream he wanted, be it March or January. Leave it to Yuta to be a snob even for fucking macaroni, he guessed. Salted caramel and cookies or brownie chocolate?
His thoughts were about to jump back to Yuta when the man of the hour appeared in front of him, looking to his right, opening one of the crystal doors and grabbing a packet of something green and frozen that went into his cart. Doyoung suddenly found that the frozen bags of black rice down the hall were incredibly appealing, and the fact that they made him turn around and get away from the other to avoid another awkward encounter played no part in it at all.
A careful inspection led to confirming the hypothesis he was already musing: he did not want to buy that. He decided it was time to get some butter and milk and finish his haul. The old lady who wanted his help grabbing a yoghurt pack from one of the higher shelves complimented his kindness and wished him a good afternoon, so he was sporting a slight smile when he made way to the meeting point, but it was okay since the mask was covering it.
“Why so happy, did they have discounts for dry personalities or something?” A familiar voice asked as soon as he had crouched down to inspect the baguettes.
“Ha ha, very funny.” He grabbed the closest one and put it in his cart, facing Yuta. “Are you done?”
“What, shopping or teasing you?” Doyoung couldn’t see the smirk, but he could definitely hear it in his tone. He raised an eyebrow and the older just put his hands in the air, indicating surrender. “Kidding, kidding. I’m done, but don’t you want more fresh food? You only got some fruit and vegetables there and the rest is all canned or frozen and such. You don’t have to live in a bunker, you know?” He was walking towards the checkouts as he said it, though, as if anticipating he wouldn’t change his mind.
“Well, if I bought your copious amounts of fresh food they would go bad before I could eat them all, so I prefer taking the safe road.” The cashier started to swipe their items, and Yuta hummed.
“Now that I think of it, you always eat the cafeteria’s menu, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bring your own food” he turned to watch him as he said, apparently concerned, “are you not good at cooking?”
Oh, as if he was allowed to teach him lessons, with those burnt toasts from this morning.
“I can get by without malnourishing myself when it’s necessary so I don’t think I’m that bad” Beep ; his turn to pay.
“Aw, who would have guessed that it would take a global pandemic to discover Perfect Doyoung's fatal flaw?” He winked. That fucker. Doyoung tried to pay him no mind as he finished putting all his groceries inside his bags. Yuta took the 2kg rice packet he was about to put inside, and put it on his own bag instead, offering him the bread in exchange. “Weren’t we supposed to share the weight?”
To be perfectly fair, when he had proposed this Doyoung was thinking mainly about distributing the milk, detergent and water. But as they quickly switched heavy and light items from bag to bag to make it equitative, and when later he grabbed both his bags and noticed his hands weren’t hurting, he was actually glad.
Tuesday, 3.55 pm
Yuta’s shopping bags hit the counter of the kitchen, carefully, while the ones Doyoung was carrying were left on the ground. He didn’t care if he looked weak for struggling to get them to their 5th floor; there was no way in Hell he was going to forgive Yuta for convincing him to just take the stairs instead . Sure, he didn’t touch any buttons to get here, so he technically was slightly less exposed to the virus, etc etc. But if he was losing his lungs to the trip how was it worth it anyways, he was asking himself as he disposed of his ice cream and the frozen vegetables Yuta had bought, and put them in the freezer.
“You okay there?” The deviser of his personal torture was setting aside the canned food, peeping at Doyoung over his shoulder. He hadn’t broken a sweat, apparently, which only confirmed his hypothesis that he was the Devil incarnate himself. “Oh! You didn’t have to get my stuff too, you can just get yours out of the bags.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s quicker like this anyway” he answered, sticking his hand in one of the bags to get out whatever was inside - which turned out to be his milk, and a lot of vegetables that he was 100% sure didn’t belong to him. Good thing he was already next to the fridge.
Yuta let out a low hum in appreciation, and stood up to rummage through the bags again. Some bread, and their pasta - Doyoung was about to comment on the pasta thing again, his curiosity taking the best of him, but he felt the Japanese man tense when they made eye contact. What ? He looked down at the box he was holding with his right hand, where Yuta’s eyes had flickered to for a brief moment, and his brain allowed him a second of clarity.
Not saying a word, he put the box of tampons on the side of the shelf where they had been leaving the bathroom products, right next to his shampoo. And then proceeded to the cereals cupboard to dispose of the box of chocolate crispies that he had been holding on his left, not a single remark -macaroni related or otherwise- leaving his lips. As he made way for the last of the bags standing, he could sense the other letting out a breath before finishing with his own part of the groceries.
And he thought that would be it and that the conversation for the day would stop there. At least he intended to shut up in order to give Yuta some space. But apparently they weren’t done yet, he figured when he heard a soft gasp.
“Wait! You dye your hair?” he was asking, holding up the body of proof.
“No, actually,” He took the dye packet from Yuta’s hand and placed it next to the bathroom utilities, “my dark black hair with electric blue highlights is perfectly natural, and I’ve had it since birth!” He started folding the now empty bags, carefully ironing them by hand against the counter to make them into compact and comfortable little triangles.
Yuta rolled his eyes so dramatically that Doyoung could swear he heard the SFX of a TV show playing on the background. “Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.” As if not wanting to be left out, he took the remaining bags too, but instead of folding them he crumpled them and made a knot with each one. Messy. “I meant you dye your hair yourself , I was surprised. I assumed you would have it done at the hair salon or something, that suits you better.”
“Oh, thank you, I also think this color suits me,” that was it. Revenge for yesterday. Before he could protest as loudly as his wide opened eyes suggested he was planning to, Doyoung kept talking; “but, no, I usually have friends help me do it. It’s cheaper and I’m more comfortable than with strangers.” He picked up the hair dye, his shampoo and shaving gel, and motioned towards the door. They were done there after all. “But since I have no one to help me now I guess it’s time I do it myself, the roots are already showing.”
And apparently today was surprise day. Because the next thing Yuta did after collecting his own things and heading for his room as well, was saying “Well, I have been dyeing my own hair since I was like 13.” Doyoung stopped on his tracks and turned around to look at him. Was that an offer? Or was he just bragging, and calling him dumb, or slow? Did he want to risk asking? “I mean. I could give you some tips…” And he looked a bit frustrated, but that was probably because Doyoung was standing in the middle of the hallway and blocking his path. Yeah, that was obviously why. So he turned around again and kept walking, to get off his way.
“That’s nice. I might have to take you up on that offer, lest I end up with my whole neck and face stained for a week.”
“Hah. Well. Enjoy the rest of your evening!” He waved a little with his free hand, and entered Ten’s room. Doyoung stared at the wood for a beat too long before turning back to his own.
Wednesday, 11.00 am
Yuta honestly didn’t expect to find Doyoung still in the kitchen at this hour, seeing how he apparently did everything hyper early. He was sitting in one of the chairs, his back relaxed against it, and holding a book on his lap. He almost felt bad for interrupting his reading by greeting him, the furrow in the Korean man’s brows gone to make way for a caught-by surprise face. He returned the greeting and Yuta assumed he would have gone back to reading, not that he cared much, mind you, he was just thinking about his coffee. But by the time he had set the water to boil and turned to get the sugar from the cabinet, Doyoung was still observing him. Starting to feel a bit self conscious, he pretended not to notice and feigned to be very invested in toying with the hem of his shirt for a couple of seconds, leaving the other time to look elsewhere.
He was still looking at him, though. So Yuta took seat in front of him and offered what he hoped wouldn’t be an obviously awkward smile. “What are you reading?” He asked, to try and make conversation.
Instead of replying, Doyoung just lifted the book from his lap and showed the cover so he could read the title. It was Love in the Time of Cholera, to Yuta’s surprise. And to his amusement, if he was being completely honest.
“Why are you reading García Márquez, shouldnt you be reading some English pretentious prick for your classes instead?” He crossed his legs out of habit but uncrossed them right after, he still had to keep an eye out on his coffee. He couldn’t get too comfortable just yet.
“I’ll have you know I’m up to date with my assigned readings, thank you very much,” Doyoung had closed the book but was still keeping track the page with his right index finger, somewhere near the end, “and, well, this one had been on my to read list for ages. So I thought, what better time to read it, than in the middle of a world pandemic, right?”
Yuta snickered. Damn it. He couldn’t help it, he was being funny and smiling, and Yuta was far too nice. “I’m guessing it didn’t go the way you expected it to?” Doyoung nodded and he kept on, “I really liked it though. I actually chose it for an assignment a few weeks back, had a blast reading it.”
“Had a blast ? Reading this?” He sounded scandalized. Good, good. Yuta tried to contain his laughter, how easy was it to confuse this guy?
“Yeah, I don’t know, it’s a tragedy and all that but you’ll have to admit the way it’s written is very funny sometimes. Like when-” Doyoung put his free hand up and interrupted him.
“Careful! I haven’t finished it yet.”
“Okay, okay.” It was time he checked on his neglected boiling water anyway, so he got up and finally made his coffee. Content, he sat back at the table and started blowing on it to cool it off.
Doyoung still wasnt going back to reading, tho, his gaze lost somewhere on the wall across them. He had a really nice side profile, now that he had the opportunity to observe it. Wait, no, what was that? He had to think about something else, quick.
“So, since you’re so good at Spanish, why didn’t you-” Doyoung had frowned at him and motioned to get up, so Yuta interrupted himself, confused. “What?”
“I’m not going to sit here to endure you teasing me for coming to Spain instead of the UK again, Nakamoto. Enjoy your breakfast.” He was already next to the door before Yuta could reach him and grab him by the wrist, the fucker did not only look like a bunny, he ran like one too.
“Hey, wait. I wasn’t going to ask that.” That seemed to work, at least partly, because he could sense Doyoung relax under his grip after hearing the words.
Okay, to be totally honest with himself, the thought of teasing him had crossed his mind for a moment, but he was mature enough to realise that was just his mind reacting in a petty way to having caught himself admiring the other’s looks. He had picked at the other for not being able to get on an exchange with the UK before, and having to stick to Spain instead since he spoke the language anyway. He had called him a loser before, playfully mostly, but he didn’t want to press on that issue now that they were...bonding? Was that the right word for this?
Doyoung was still looking at him, expectant. Yuta realised he was still grabbing him by the wrist and released him as if it burned to the touch, embarrassed. He cleared his throat and said, “I was… I was going to ask why you chose English philology instead of Spanish. Wouldn’t that have made more sense?” He took a step back for good measure. He had already invaded Doyoung’s personal space too much for the day.
“Ah. Uhm.” He looked lost in thought for a second, as if trying to piece together the exact words. It was something the younger did often when talking about something he deemed relevant, Yuta had come to notice. “Well, my parents also asked me that, you know? They thought I’d better take advantage of the years we’d spent in Argentina and just study Hispanic since ‘it’s just literature, either way’. But I love English literature, and the way the language works” and he looked directly into his eyes when he said the next sentence, “and I’d rather follow my passion than walk an easier path.”
Yuta took a couple of seconds to process the information and nodded, satisfied with the response. “I see. I respect that.”
Doyoung smiled and looked behind Yuta’s shoulder. “Thanks. Your coffee is going to get cold, though, and I should go back to studying. See you around?”
Yuta nodded and in a heartbeat he was alone in the kitchen, with a warm cup of coffe that he was totally going to blame for the blush he could sense forming on his cheeks.
Thursday, 8.45 pm
Doyoung was just finishing his dinner - a frozen pizza that he had shoved into the oven, he didn’t have the patience for anything else - when Yuta peeked his head through the door and directed a tired smile towards him. Mouth full, he settled for greeting him with a hand gesture, but when he approached he said, “up for dinner?”
“Nah, I’m getting a cup of coffee to try and stay up to finish this pain in the ass of an essay I have to hand in tomorrow morning”, and as soon as he finished his sentence he yawned, almost looking like a cartoon character. A cartoon kitty, probably; with white fur to match his hair.
“Aren’t you taking too much coffee a day?” He got up and opened the dishwasher to put away his plate and cutlery.
“Aww, are you worried about me now?” Yuta cooed, seeming too amused for someone who looked like he was about to fall asleep at any second. “But don’t worry, I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.” He was already boiling the water, so there was no point in trying to deter him now.
“You say that, but I’ve seen you order three coffees in a row at the faculty’s cafeteria after debate.” In fact, most of the time he could recall seeing the other at the cafeteria, it was with a coffee either on his hand or on his table. Yuta was giving him a weird look. Did he say something wrong?
“Well, yeah, but those were mostly decaf, and,” he combed his hair back with his fingers as he let out a little giggle, “I ordered them to have an excuse to stay at the table more than anything, honestly.” He paused and looked at the floor, pensive. “It’s not even that good…”
“I also miss the afternoons there,” Doyoung said, softly, a bit scared of not having read what he meant accurately. He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed one of the lemon yogurts that he had left, while Yuta was pouring himself his black poison.
“I miss them too. But it’s not only the people, I also miss the debate classes, and the practice…” he took a long sip. He looked really tired and something inside Doyoung wanted to make him feel better. May be the yogurt.
“We could do a little practice if you want? I miss it too, and it’d be a nice breach of the lockdown routine.”
“How are we going to do a competition only the two of us?” Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, Yuta’s nails against the counter. “This is a team sport, after all.”
“Well, but we don’t have to be constrained by that, if we want to have a little fun now,” he bent down to throw the empty carcass of his desert in the trash bin, and when he looked up again, the other had a bitter smile plastered over his face.
“Yeah, should have known you don’t care about teamplay after how you treated me the first day we had a practice together.” And then he was leaving his still half-full cup on the counter and leaving, and Doyoung was rushing his brain to understand what he meant , and Yuta was out of the kitchen.
Doyoung panicked. He chased after the other and tried to reach for his arm, the same way Yuta had done the day before, but figured it might be uncomfortable for the other so he just went for his shoulder instead. But that was weird. Yuta looked at him, then at his hand, then at him again, an eyebrow arched. Doyoung catched his breath and tried to organize his thoughts.
“First of all, I am very sorry about that.” He pulled his own hand back, but Yuta wasn’t running away again just after. Good sign. “I shouldn’t have ignored your intervention and just gone along with my points. And I definitely shouldn’t have justified it afterwards saying that mine were better.” He took a deep breath, and looked down. “It wasn’t true, and even if it were, it was out of place. So, again, I’m apologising for it.”
“It’s okay,” came Yuta’s voice after a few seconds, low and a little strained. “Thank you for saying that.”
Doyoung hesitated. Was he in any position to explain himself? How many more times had he not correctly calculated how his words or actions were affecting the other boy? His neck was starting to hurt a bit from looking at the ground, and the blue carpet of the ground wasn’t a really great view. He slowly directed his gaze towards the person before him, resolving to try and say something more, if only for the sake of clarity.
“I know this doesn’t make it right, but I was having a really rough day, had a teacher get really aggressive with me that morning, and I was - well, not feeling quite amazing. And I zoned out during part of your intervention, and most of Johnny’s, too, out of pure tiredness. So the only thing I had as a base to build mine were my notes, and” he lowered his voice, he didn’t know what to do of his hands, they were just holding each other and doing weird little gestures to accompany his words, “when you confronted me about it later I was feeling so insecure and guilty I just snapped with whatever dumb shit my brain could provide that would maybe salvage some of my dignity. I’m sorry.”
Yuta hadn’t said a word, he was just looking at him and chewing on his lower lip. Doyoung waited for an answer patiently, until he got impatient, that is. He decided to give the other some space, so he announced that he was getting him his coffee mug back, and rushed to the kitchen again.
When he went out back on the hallway, Yuta was still on the same spot, waiting for him. He took the mug from his hands, thanked him with a small smile, and wished him a good night before disappearing inside Ten’s room.
Friday, 9.18 am
Kim Doyoung:
Hey
You:
oh, hi
is the music too loud? sorry
Kim Doyoung:
No, its alright
I just wanted to thank you for leaving me breakfast this morning
It was really nice of you
You:
i told you
i am a very nice person!!
;)
Kim Doyoung:
How did your essay go?
You:
well, its done and submitted
wont complain for now
Kim Doyoung:
I’m glad!
Kim Doyoung:
Hmn
So since you’re such a nice person
Do you maybe want to help me dye my hair tomorrow?
Ten says if I do it myself I’ll end up with a stained face and bathroom and I’d rather avoid that
You:
i think ten may be right
dont tell him i said that. ill kill you.
but yes! i have nothing to do tomorrow so i can help you
Kim Doyoung:
Great! Thank you
Friday, 10.39 pm
Kim Doyoung:
I never got to ask you
Why did *you* choose Spanish philology?
You:
ah, uhm
its a bit of a long story
wouldnt want to bore you to death
Kim Doyoung:
I doubt that will be the case
And if it were, it would be no different from how I am right now, so
If you’re comfortable sharing
You:
ok so like
when i was about eight? nine? a new family moved in next door from spain, for work
they had two kids, one my age and other a year younger
the parents spoke the language, but the kids only knew like four words each
and they were new!! they had no friends in the city. or the country.
so i obviously went and befriended them
the family taught me spanish and i helped the parents teach the kids japanese
also when we went to school my neighbour ended up in my same class so it was easier for me to help her with subjects! that was really lucky for us
ive loved the language ever since, and the more people i knew that spoke it, the more sides to it i found that i loved
so my friends suggested i studied something related to it and, well, here i am
Kim Doyoung:
That’s not very long, and it’s definitely not boring at all
It’s very sweet
You:
haha i guess?
i already agreed to helping you tomorrow, no need to sweet talk to me haha
Kim Doyoung:
Good night Yuta
Saturday, 1.22 pm
So there Yuta was, his worst sleeping t-shirt on and hair pushed back with a cloth hairband, in front of Doyoung’s door. He was… he checked his phone. He was eight minutes early, but he had nothing else to do, so he resolved waiting there for a bit and be just five minutes early instead. He pulled up his conversation with Mark and opened the front camera to send him an ugly face selfie - when the room door suddenly opened.
Yuta figured that reaching this point Doyoung would laugh at him either way, so he took the damn picture and sent it before facing the younger. He was trying really hard to not cackle in his face, he could tell there was a considerable effort taking place. He was the one asking for a favor, after all. But the thing was, the sight of him biting the inside of his cheek and suffering from little spasms was hilarious in itself and Yuta broke off the silence with a snicker first, eliciting the outburst of the other.
After calming down, once inside the room, Yuta eyed the small setup that was laid in front of them. The desk had been cleared of any and all items, the only things on top of it being the box of hair dye and its contents, splayed out along the surface in the order that they would need them. There was also a clean towel on the back of the desk chair, for some reason. He turned around to see Doyoung and actually pay attention to what he was wearing - a perfectly fine -and maybe a little too tight on the shoulders- black t-shirt. He raised an eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth followed, with a mind of his own.
“Are you wearing that?” Doyoung blinked.
“Well, yeah? But” he pointed to the towel, “I’m covering my shoulders with the towel so don’t worry about stains.” Oh no, that poor towel looked soft and new and spotless, he wasn’t going to inflict any damage on it.
“Nah, dude” he shook his head just for good measure, “we’re not going to risk ruining a good towel or shirt, so go get changed into an old one, or just take it off, I don’t want to carry the murder of your clothes on my conscience.”
There was a glint of amusement in Doyoung’s eyes. “But I don’t have any ‘bad’ shirts here. So this one will have to work.”
“I can lend you one, if you want.” The amusement was now showing in the form of a gummy smile, as he shook his head and said that wasn’t necessary. Why was he not taking his advice, what a stubborn piece of shit. Yuta gave up and got into the bathroom to get some soap. “Well, then just take it off, it’s easier to clean skin right after it’s stained than fabric,” he came back with the hand soap dispenser and a roll of toilet paper, for good measure.
Doyoung still hesitated a couple of seconds, maybe feeling shy? How was he shy now, with how cocky he was every- oh . He had taken his shirt off, alright. And he wasn’t hot , Yuta definitely wasn’t staring at his muscles. He had seen his arms before, and those were… nice. Functioning, defined arms. Objetively deserving of appreciation, even from someone who considered himself to be his sworn rival. But he was discovering he also had firm abs, and a really nice figure involving broad shoulders and a toned chest. And, wait.
Doyoung seemed to have noticed him shamelessly staring , but he didnt’ give a single fuck right now. Yuta took a look at his face for a second, he seemed to be scrutinizing hiw own for a reaction. And then he looked downwards again, to the two identic pink lines adorning his chest. It was unfair that even the scars looked pretty and attractive, he decided.
“So,” Doyoung clapped his hands together and sat down on the chair, a nervous smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes - was he nervous? Shit, he had been staring too intently, hadn’t he, “let’s get started?”
Yuta nodded and handed him the hand soap. “You should besmear your face and neck with it, it helps with the stains.” Doyoung looked at him like he had grown another head, but started to cautiously apply it on himself either way. Yuta got to work with the dye tube and the revealing cream bottle, mixing it up. “Don’t forget to cover your ears, thats the part that gets stained the most.”
“Oh my God, Yuta, just how clumsy are you with the dye,” he said, but there was no real bite to it and he was diligently covering his ears with the soap.
“I’m not!” he punctuated it with a really fervorous shake of the dye bottle, and decided that was enough mixing. “I’m very careful, I just don’t want to risk you slicing my throat because one hair decided to go awol and give you a little stain or something.”
Doyoung laughed, brief but relaxed, and said, “Don’t worry, I trust you.” It didn’t feel like he was just talking about the dye, Yuta thought as he parted the back hair in half and started squeezing the black concoction on the roots, massaging softly to get it to adhere to the hair correctly. They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, while Yuta mustered up the courage to ask.
“Does anyone… from our shared friends, know?” Doyoung almost nodded, but wisely refrained from doing so just a beat later and settled for a hum instead.
“Ten does, and Johnny too. I haven’t said anything to anyone else but they might have guessed on their own.” He shrugged, like it was not a big deal. And Yuta might have believed it wasn’t, actually, if he couldn’t see how tense the muscles of his back were.
“Hey,” he said, doing a new partition and rubbing the plaster in, “I can assure you, no one can tell. And I have a foolproof trans radar! No one escapes it.” He was getting to the sideburns, so he tilted Doyoung’s head slightly to reach it better.
“Thanks, it’s nice to know I outdid you once again.” He was going to slap that stupid grin out of his face. Not right now, of course, because his hands were inside gloves totally covered by hair dye, but he definitely would later. “Actually, if I hadn’t heard your voice crack the first time we met, and seen how Ten automatically adopted you, I wouldn’t have noticed either.”
“Shut up, I adopted him. I’m the older one!” That side was done, time for the other one. He tapped on Doyoung’s head lightly to get him to tip it in the opposite angle, and kept working on it.
“Yeah, sure. Want me to call him and ask, see who’s whose baby?”
Yuta huffed, but didn’t stop him from getting his phone out and calling the Thai man. There was only the nape area left, and it was a bit hard not to get it messy since it was a bit overgrown and could easily stain the neck, so he concentrated on it.
Ten’s voice greeted him with a loud HEEEEEEEEEY , and Yuta almost got a heart attack. Doyoung didn’t even try to hide his cackle.
“Tennie, just a quick question to ask. Yuta-” but he was interrupted by a loud whine.
“Yuta Yuta Yuta Yuta, again , he’s all you talk to me about lately and you insist you don’t have a crush on him. Sure.” Was Doyoung allergic to the dye? Surely he couldn’t have gotten that red from embarrassment alone.
“Nice to know you’re tired of hearing about me, Ten.” He decided against doing anything else than just making his presence known to try and save them both some dignity, and finish covering Doyoung’s hair completely.
“Oh, dear, hello to you too!” He sounded way too chipper for the situation. “I would never get tired of hearing anyone tell me about you, I’m just tired of my friends being idiots in denial. How are my plants?”
Doyoung was still dead silent. Yuta kneaded his hair together once more for good measure before telling him he was done, and took the gloves off. “They’re fine, I think they miss you.”
“Of course they miss me, I’m their dad!! Don’t try to get any ideas into their heads - when you fly back to Osaka I want them waiting for me with open arms! Well, maybe not Rigo, though. He can wait with closed arms.”
Doyoung looked at him, puzzled, so Yuta clarified. “Rigoberto is his cactus.”
“KIM DOYOUNG”, resonated Ten’s voice through the speakers, “I can NOT believe you still don’t know the names of my babies!”
They passed the next fifteen minutes engrossed in conversation. It was nice to talk to his best friend out loud again, and it was specially nice to have some kind of distraction from what said best friend had said at the beggining of the call. Doyoung had eased up into it some moments later, but Yuta figured he was as tense as he was to let the phone call end.
“Well, babies, I have to go now. Send me a picture of the result! I love you both, byeee!”
Yuta checked the time on his phone; it was almost time to wash the dye off. He pulled up the camera and snapped a picture of Doyoung, who was caught by surprise and looked like a deer in the headlights. Yuta could barely contain his laughter as he sent it to Ten, ignoring Doyoung’s whines about how he looked ridiculous and arguing back that that was the whole point. He was glad he had broken that awkward spell that was sitting between them, though.
He hustled Doyoung into the bathroom, instructing him to use hot water, and got back to his phone to see Ten had replied with a youtube link, preview not loading. He lowered the volume just in case - he knew his friend enough to know it was a needed move - and was faced with the Little Mermaid song, “Kiss the girl.” As if the message wasn’t clear, Ten sent another message that read kiss the boy!!! coward!!! . Really smooth.
Doyoung’s voice calling him from the bathroom interrupted his typing.
“Can you get me the towel? It’s there, on the chair.”
He left his phone on the desk and grabbed the towel, knocking on the bathroom door. Why was he knocking? Doyoung laughed at that.
“You can come in, dork. I’m decent.”
“That is for me to judge” he said, opening the door. Doyoung was bent down over the sink, little droplets of water making their way from their hair and into it, but also trailing down his neck. The bathroom shelf was dangerously close to his head, and Yuta didn’t want the kitchen collision scene to take place again, so he took the matters into his own hands. “Wait, let me help.”
He draped the towel around his damp hair and dried it carefully, his dumb heart hammering in his ears. Good thing Doyoung wasn’t saying anything, because he doubted he would be able to hear it, he thought as he guided his head back from the sink and up to a standing position without any mishap. Success.
Doyoung was slightly taller than him, though, so now he had to strain his arms a bit to keep drying his hair. And he had turned his body around to face him, because his fringe was still very much damp, and Yuta wasn’t sure where he was supposed to look. He settled for focusing on his own hands.
Which is why he missed how Doyoung was staring at his lips, and why he almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed the other leaning forwards. He froze, his hands still on the towel, Doyoung’s breath fanning over his skin. The seconds started to drag on for what seemed like centuries, as he tried to rationalize the situation. There was no way this wasn’t him asking for a kiss, right? But what if he wasn’t , and he fucked it up? But Yuta, he could almost hear Ten’s voice in his head, who would stay in this position for so long if they weren’t lookng for a kiss?
Doyoung blinked, and started to lean back slowly, but then Yuta slid his hands down to his shoulders and used the leverage to lean back in and push their lips together, softly but with decision. Doyoung snickered against his lips, and kissed him back.
Sunday, 11.14 am
You:
do you think the judges will admit “if my point is so bad how come you want to kiss me” as a rebuttal
Ten-chan:
i mean, i definitely would
its solid
Kim Doyoung:
I don’t remember agreeing to being a part of a groupchat with you two
Ten-chan:
shut up, brat, show some respect for your elders
Kim Doyoung:
You’re YOUNGER than me, Ten
Ten-chan:
yuta go collect your man
You:
im trying to kiss him to get him to shut up but sadly that doesnt work
he can still use his hands to text
Ten-chan:
im already regretting getting you two together
Kim Doyoung:
We don’t care
You:
sucks to be you <3
Doyoung took the phone out of Yuta’s hand and pouted at the sight of it. “Change my name immediately , that sounds so cold and distant.”
Yuta retrieved his device and scooted closer under the blankets to peck the other’s nose. “Convince me. I want a structured argumentation, don’t miss any casual links.”
Doyoung scoffed and flicked his arm, “I’ll give you casual links alright.” And he dived in for a kiss, and then peppered the side of his jaw with kisses. He had to admit, he was making some very good points.