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If Nine had only one word to describe Joong, he’d choose youth.
**
There was youth in the way Joong’s eyes sparkled the first night Nine agreed to drive him home. Surprised was an understatement, because Joong— big and hunky and handsome as he was, had always looked older than his age. The first time Nine met him in the audition room, Nine was reluctant to even muttered a hi to someone a head taller with a stern face. Nine had thought that Joong was older, snobbish, and annoying. Would they even work this out? He thought, as he observed the big guy. The age crumbled quickly, however, the moment Joong opened his mouth and introduced himself with a nervous tug on the corner of his lips.
My name is Archen Aydin, you can call me Joong. I’m eighteen years old. Thank you and I’m so happy to have this opportunity.
Eighteen was far too young. Nine and his cold two in front of his age had to rewire his brain to embrace Joong’s age. Joong had never looked eighteen since. He was all muscle and jawline. Nine had to crank his neck to look him in the eyes and eighteen had never felt younger.
But under the yellow streetlight, Joong’s eyes screamed youth as it punched Nine in the gut. When they got in the car and Joong fastened his seatbelt, eager to say thank you for the third time, Nine could feel the two years gap between them. Small, people would say, but eighteen sounded way too young for someone who just reached twenty.
So when Joong asked the name of a famous Thai song in the radio that caught his ears— reminding Nine that not only was he eighteen, he was eighteen and thousand miles away from home— it was almost a reflex for Nine to provide the title as well as sing a few lines. The mirth in Joong’s laugh as he genuinely complimented Nine’s voice made the car felt somewhat like a vehicle in a coming-of-age drama. Eighteen was too young, and youth was dripping everywhere from the 187 cm man. He made it too easy for Nine to give in to his instinct of being older. It was too easy for Nine, when Joong waved animatedly in front of his aunt’s lawn, to breathe the remaining youth in his car. Eighteen was far too young, and Nine could (ironically) see that on Joong’s shadow-casted face under 11 PM streetlight.
**
By the time quarantine happened, youth was Joong.
It was the way he laughed, the way he talked, the random joke he threw, the burst of songs he sang.
Youth was the trembling finger on Nine’s face, caressing Nine’s cheek in front of a hundred pairs of eyes. Youth was the gaze he had to hold when Nine put his arms around his neck. Youth was the warmth of his bear-like hug every time they met and parted.
By then, youth was also the frustrated sigh he had after a mistake at work; at midnight, just a few minutes before sleep. It was the tears he had to hold in because home was hours and hours away. It was the tired plop of his giant body on Nine’s college dorm bed after a particularly tiring day.
Joong was youth. It didn’t matter that Nine had to tiptoe to whisper something on his ears or that Joong could lift Nine up with one hand. Joong was so young. Joong was too young that it made it so easy for Nine to be old.
Nine was a brother and a son, he justified, thus it was almost his instinct to take care of Joong too.
So he started giving; a ride home, a welcome to his college dorm. Joong’s eyes sparkled every time, just like when Nine first offered him a ride home, and everything just felt right.
When Nine invited him to stay over in his house for an indefinite period of time, it was just another form of giving, he thought.
Joong accustomed himself fast to Nine’s home. Nine started waking up to the smell of fried eggs from the first floor. Joong being awake with his sleeping shirt and boxer, mixing whatever leftover ingredient Nine’s mom had in their kitchen to make omelettes. Plural, because Joong started making Nine one too.
Joong started pushing the shopping cart during grocery shopping with the whole family in tow. He was big, and muscly, and could reach the discounted products on the top shelves easily. Nine’s mom told embarrassing childhood stories about Nine knocking off tomatoes when he was five. Joong laughed as hard as Nine’s sister and Nine had to slap both of them equally as hard.
Joong’s stuffs were everywhere in Nine’s room. His socks were thrown over Nine’s college books (clean ones, thankfully). His laptop was stacked over Nine’s as a practical joke (they were identical with the same password, Nine would groan each time he grabbed Joong’s instead of his). His skin-cares were scattered on Nine’s table, although by that point Nine wasn’t sure which one was his and which one was Nine’s (they shared anyway).
One night, Joong threw both of his legs over Nine’s torso. Nine groaned and tried to retaliate but Joong gave pressure and Nine was tired so he let him be. Joong laughed and gave little punches to Nine’s arm, adding to Nine’s frustration.
“What?!” He growled.
Joong was silent for a few seconds, giving Nine’s eyes time to adapt to the dark. Nine could trace a smile on Joong’s face like that.
“Thank you,” Joong said. Almost sheepishly.
Nine’s face scrunched in confusion. “What? Are you sleep-talking?”
Joong laughed. It sounded so young. It threw Nine back to the boy in the audition room months ago. “No, thank you,” Joong repeated, “for letting me stay.”
It was like a splash of cold water on Nine’s face at 1 AM. Joong was fast asleep few minutes after but Nine laid awake. Nine wasn’t good with heartfelt talks. It made him cringe and something in his insides would churn. Joong’s insignificant thank you had just about the same damage.
His thank you made Nine realize that Nine, somehow, had given him everything he had to offer. He gave him a physical place to stay, foods, his family. Nine realized that he had given him a home. One that didn’t need hours and hours of plane rides to go to.
The realization, to put it simply, was scary.
Nine was so accustomed to Joong’s youth that he had no longer thought about it. But when Joong’s legs were over his torso few minutes ago, everything exuded youth. The socks over his college books, the laptops, the steady breathing beside him. Nine had to breathe in all the youth and he almost choked on his lungs.
Joong was so young. He made everything so easy. It was so easy for Nine to give. So he kept on giving, and giving, and giving. Joong didn’t need to pry anything out of Nine’s hand because Nine would open them willingly.
Nine’s eyes were too adapted to the dark at that point and he was able to see shadows of Joong’s high nose and eyelashes. He tossed and turned in his sleep and his hand touched Nine for a split second and Nine was terrified.
Suddenly the blanket that they shared was too thick like the air. The steady rise and fall of Joong’s chest contrasted with the fluttery shake of Nine’s eyelids. Joong made everything so easy for Nine that the sudden terrifying realization that Nine might have made everything easy stifled his breath.
Joong made everything so easy, Nine might have unconsciously gave something bigger than he could offer. Something akin to himself.
**
Nine might be older, but twenty one was infant as an adult. So, as other terrified young adults do, he built up a wall.
No one had to know. Not his family, not his friends, and definitely not Joong.
He would drive Joong just the same. He ate his omelettes and helped Joong with homeworks. He kept giving. He still gave everything that he could offer. Because Joong was young.
He would give Joong the world, as it was still easy for him. He would give everything that he could offer; a home, a family, a friend, a teacher.
But Nine now had the realization that youth could grasp his lungs and made air hard to breathe. So when he messed up Joong’s hair he was careful not to spill out himself through his fingertips.
He couldn’t continue giving Joong something bigger than he could offer.
Joong’s hands still brushed Nine’s times and times again at night and only Nine would know about that. So like the brush of their hands, only Nine would know about the little conscious effort to build a thin wall between him and Joong.
Just a little bit. Just a tiny bit of control to prevent Nine overflowing himself when he wasn’t ready.
Joong was too young.
Joong was too young and it terrified Nine.
So he gave and held back and gave and held back. Because terrified youth built up walls that he wasn’t ready to break.
Until he was ready. Just until he was ready.