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“You know what?”
The streets are dark and the air in the car is cool. Yeonjun takes a quick peek at Soobin, who looks at him questioningly.
“Hm?”
“I’ve never seen you cry.”
Soobin shoots Yeonjun an irritated look. He’s pouting and his brows are furrowed, and Yeonjun laughs because Soobin looks cute like this. It’s midnight, still a long way home, and Yeonjun’s tired—they both are, but god, Yeonjun is so fond.
“Hyung.” Soobin sighs, exasperatedly. “This is what you wanted to tell me?”
Yeonjun’s laughter rings through the vehicle. “Saw your eyes drooping. I can’t be the only person awake in this car.”
“But that’s unfair,” Soobin whines, “I stayed up later than you to cram a paper! You were out and snoring by 11 while I speed wrote about a thousand words.” He raises a hand and moves his fingers for dramatic effect. “I still feel my fingers twitching from all that typing.”
“You should’ve done it earlier then, Binnie. That’s out of my control,” Yeonjun jokes. Soobin reaches to pinch Yeonjun’s side and Yeonjun shrieks. “I’m sorry! I’m driving, stop—”
Soobin lets him go with a huff. “Would’ve done it earlier if someone didn’t drag me to go shopping with him last weekend.”
Okay, Yeonjun is partly to blame.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Yeonjun sighs. He fumbles around the backseat for the blanket they keep in the car, hands this to Soobin. “Night, baby,” Yeonjun murmurs. “Dream of me.”
Soobin shifts to find a comfortable position. “Mm,” he drawls, “I hope I don’t.”
Then he’s out, and it’s just Yeonjun and the streetlights and the song from the radio. Yeonjun feels warm, though it’s already the second week of November.
He sneaks a glance at Soobin sleeping beside him, long lashes and pretty lips. Yeonjun bites back a grin. You are so whipped, the voice in his head rings. But Yeonjun can’t help it, not when he’s stupidly in love. Not when he wakes each day to nose scrunches and comforting words and a boy who always, always feels like home.
As Yeonjun comes to a gradual stop in front of a red stoplight, the thought resurfaces.
I’ve never seen you cry.
The familiar, competitive spark rises in him. Just you wait, Choi Soobin, he thinks.
Yeonjun has always been the bigger crier out of the two.
He has no idea how it started, actually. He wasn’t so prone to tears before he started dating Soobin. It’s as if something in Yeonjun turned softer, more tender.
The first time it happens is, embarrassingly, on the very day they got together.
In his defense, Yeonjun had been waiting for too long. It was two Christmas seasons ago, when the novelty of being away from home in a place so big still lingered. Bright city lights, loud laughter from lively streets. Everything was new. Golden, glittering.
Too good to be true.
And the boy in front of him was, too. Shiny eyes and fluffy hair. He opened the door to Yeonjun’s apartment in March of that same year, looking so lost. He had a luggage bag beside him and he was very visibly flustered. Something about the scene made Yeonjun’s heart skip a beat.
“Um,” the boy started, rather hesitantly. “Choi Yeonjun, right? Beomgyu probably gave you my name already, but hi. I’m Choi Soobin, your roommate.”
Soobin smiled, then—it was an endearingly shaky one—and Yeonjun knew that expression of uncertainty all too well.
It’s uncharted waters, the sinking realization that this is the first step to god knows what. It’s diving into the real world. Clutching desperately at what can be kept, and simultaneously trying to let go of what is deemed useless. It’s learning that things can be unforgiving. Learning that your heart won’t sing to the tune of other hearts, no matter how hard you try.
So Yeonjun smiled back, as reassuring as he possibly could.
“Yeah, hey. Welcome home.”
And Yeonjun let him in. Allowed this tall, lanky boy into his life.
This is how Yeonjun watched Soobin grow: from shy giggles to wheezing laughter. From fleeting glances and mumbled goodnights to invitations of spending the night on their shared couch, clad in cheap, fluffy robes. They’ve gone from awkward encounters and displaying grocery lists on the refrigerator to making plans for dinner at the shopping center next to their university and strolling through aisles upon aisles of snacks during their free nights.
And somewhere along the road, the lines have blurred. It happened far too quickly. Even for Yeonjun, who always thought he had his life put together. His goals were practically already carved in stone.
Well, he wasn’t prepared for this—the day Choi Soobin turned into something more than just a roommate. More than just a friend. Yeonjun wanted to always have Soobin’s laughter ring in his ears, wanted to see the crinkles that decorate his eyes so prettily. He wanted to bask in it.
Yeonjun ached.
Ached with a dizzying desire, blinded by the feeling threatening to consume him whole.
So Yeonjun made up his mind. He wanted to do something about it. To hell with doubts, right? He’s Choi Yeonjun and he refused to let this opportunity slide.
After all, he decided, he would never forgive himself if he were to ever let this boy go. It outweighed everything else.
Soobin is sunsets over hills. Bright orange fading to blue, dark blue. It leaves you hollow, but brings the assurance of a brand new day. He’s the crash of waves hitting the shore, too—gentle, yet determined: comfort written in each movement. Soobin’s tall, taller than most people Yeonjun knows, though he’s so delicate, so gentle. But where his words and actions may be hushed, his heart is loud. Unafraid.
To Yeonjun, Soobin’s the loveliest contradiction he’s ever come across.
It’s a lot like driving, the uncertain, exciting path each day brings. With Soobin, Yeonjun feels like he’s afloat, stuck in a trance he never wants to snap out of.
And the ride—oh, the ride itself is magical. Even long, winding roads can feel so right.
But there’s only so much Yeonjun could take without certainty in control. Yeonjun yearned for it. He wanted to make use of what he could almost, almost touch. Wanted to mold it into his very own.
So, Yeonjun took matters into his hands, decisive and determined. The way he’s always approached life. He grabbed the wheel on that afternoon, two years ago.
one
They’re at their apartment and they’ve got papers scattered all around the dining table. It’s late November and finals season is upon them. Soobin’s clicking his pen and shaking his legs, a habit of his that Yeonjun has always noticed.
“Hey,” Yeonjun says nonchalantly.
Soobin looks up, an eyebrow raised in question. “What’s up?”
One of their lightbulbs is flickering. The ice in Yeonjun’s coffee is starting to melt, he swirls the straw around the cup before taking a long sip. Soobin’s staring at him curiously, now. He’s in a grey hoodie and his bangs are framing his forehead messily. His lips are in a slight frown.
Soobin looks so pretty. Yeonjun wants to kiss him.
He clenches his fists instead. Clears his throat. “I wanna tell you something.”
“Uh huh.” Soobin leans back on his chair and crosses his arms. He cocks his head to the side. “You can tell me anything, hyung.”
Yeonjun’s laptop screen dims from lack of use. He closes this, moves the device away. He puts his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands.
Well, this is it.
“I like you.” Yeonjun starts, matter-of-factly.
He sees Soobin’s eyes widen, but Soobin doesn’t interrupt.
“I like you a lot, it confuses me sometimes. And,” Yeonjun takes a deep breath, “I’m letting you know because I think we could work out. If ever you feel the same way. Also because we’re friends and roommates, and I wouldn’t wanna force you into anything without telling you how I feel first. I mean,” Yeonjun laughs, “it’s kinda obvious that I like you, don’t you think?”
Yeonjun can’t meet Soobin’s eyes, but he feels the intensity of Soobin’s gaze. “Sorry for dumping all that. You know me, can’t hold these things in.” He scans the room for something to look at, something to avoid the wave of vulnerability threatening to wash through him.
The chair creaks as Soobin inches closer. “Hey.” He pries Yeonjun’s clasped fingers apart. Holds both of his hands. Interlaces their fingers.
Yeonjun’s brain feels like cotton.
“You’re so cute, hyung.” Soobin’s voice is laced with wonder, and it’s soft, so soft. His eyes are shining despite the poorly lit room. The corners of his lips tug upwards.
“But isn’t it kinda obvious,” Soobin gives Yeonjun’s hands a little squeeze, “that I like you, too?”
For the first time in his life, Yeonjun does not know what to do.
“Fuck,” he manages.
Soobin giggles. “How eloquent.”
“How are you so chill about this, what the fuck?” Yeonjun's head is spinning, and Soobin is laughing, the sound filling Yeonjun’s ears with honey.
“I don’t know either, hyung,” Soobin remarks, clearly enjoying Yeonjun’s distress. “Why’re you the one all over the place? Aren’t you, like, more knowledgeable about these kinds of things?”
You’re Choi Soobin, is what Yeonjun wants to say. I don’t wanna mess this up.
Instead, Yeonjun shakes his head in amusement. “I think I like you a little too much. I don’t—I have nothing else to say.”
“Very flattering,” is Soobin’s cocky reply and Yeonjun swats at his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! For the record, I like you, hyung. A lot. If it weren’t already clear.”
They reach for each other then, chuckles and sunbeams, fingers on skin. Soobin’s finally in his arms and Yeonjun’s heart bathes in soft glitter, beats to something golden within his ribcage.
Then Yeonjun starts to tear up.
“I’m gonna cry,” he blurts out. Yeonjun moves away from Soobin to cover his eyes.
What the hell, Choi Yeonjun?
Soobin loses it, that brat. An evil grin is on his face, but his actions are gentle: he swipes at Yeonjun’s cheeks, wiping the tears that have escaped.
“You didn’t tell me you cry easily? Guess I’ll really have to date you now, for the bragging rights.” He squishes Yeonjun’s damp, tear-stained cheeks. “My boyfriend is a softie… Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”
“You are a menace,” Yeonjun deadpans, then pauses.
Because Soobin’s face is so close to his, now. Yeonjun could almost touch the crinkles in his eyes, the smoothness of his skin. Yeonjun stares at him, sees the boy flush prettily. It’s a stark contrast from his previous joking nature. Soobin’s lips part slightly and he’s at a loss for words, Yeonjun can tell.
So Yeonjun brings him closer, fingers grazing Soobin’s nape. “This okay?” He whispers, just to be sure.
Soobin nods, blinks a few times. And Yeonjun dives for it—he has the wheel in his hands now.
Their lips find each other’s, and something in Yeonjun finally, finally bursts. It’s soft at first, a slight brush that leaves him tingly. Then the feeling magnifies and it’s electrifying, sparks travelling through his skin. He feels Soobin move closer, feels Soobin’s fingers on his waist from how hard he’s grasping at Yeonjun’s shirt.
It’s warm, everything about it is warm, and Yeonjun falls captive to the feeling. He lets it take over every part of himself, until all he can think of is Soobin.
Soobin, who is pressed so closely to Yeonjun, soft and breathy from need. He tastes like blueberries and coffee, like everything Yeonjun’s ever known, but couldn’t put into words until this very moment—now that this is happening, now that this boy is in his arms.
Yeonjun’s still shaky when they pull apart. Their chests are heaving, skin tinged red. Yeonjun bites his lips and tastes Soobin there, still.
“Not bad,” is all he says.
Soobin runs his hands through his hair shyly. “Not bad at all.”
Yeonjun’s eyes are still damp from tears and his lips are starting to feel sore, but he cannot think of anywhere else he’d rather be.
two
So, what do you wanna do when you’re older, Yeonjun?
This was a question thrown at him for years on end by nosy aunts, loud uncles. Family gatherings always tasted sour. Ever since the days Yeonjun only came up to his mother’s shoulders, back when he still had to use a stepper to reach the taller cupboards, he’s always dreaded these.
Or, rather, hated the small talk that came with it.
As an only child, Yeonjun had no other familial support system his age. He wasn’t that close to his cousins, he only saw them twice, maybe thrice a year. He braved everything by himself—the chatter of the adults and the banter at the kids’ table. Had to smile, sit pretty. Respect his elders. Answer properly when they asked him questions—
So, what do you wanna do when you’re older, Yeonjun?
—but he could never fool them with this one.
I want to dance. I want to perform.
And Yeonjun’s answer never changed. Never once did he take it back, every single year he would say the same thing again and again. He never felt the need to make up some faux interest just to put a mask over what he truly loved. Yeonjun wasn’t the type.
His passion came with a price, though: teasing scoffs. He’d hear them tell his parents, He’ll grow out of that one, give it a few years.
But Yeonjun never backed down from a challenge, not even when he was six and teary-eyed and felt the first sting of rejection. He vowed to prove them wrong.
So, even as Yeonjun pants backstage, all sweaty and seconds away from falling to the ground, he is happy. Very happy, actually, the adrenaline’s still racing through his system. He downs a bottle of water he picked up from their troupe’s waiting room table. His teammates pat him on the back and the liveliness in the area is so contagious, Yeonjun feels it crawl through his skin. This is why he does what he does.
Grinning, he catches up with the rest of the team. They take a few pictures, talk a bit about adjustments to their training schedules. Once that’s over, Yeonjun packs up and gets ready for a night of lounging on his couch.
Nothing prepares him for the sight beside his car.
“Hyung!”
Sneakers squeak against the parking lot floor, then Yeonjun’s wrapped in warmth. In arms that feel like home. Home. Soobin’s here. Wait, Soobin watched?
Yeonjun pulls away for a bit, confused. Soobin is radiant, a big smile gracing his features. “I thought you had an exam today?”
Soobin laughs in response, draws Yeonjun back into his embrace.
“Finished it early and told my professor I had something to attend to,” Soobin mumbles, chin on Yeonjun’s shoulder. “Turns out getting on his good side wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.”
“Teacher’s pet,” Yeonjun retorts, smacking Soobin’s butt. Soobin yelps, but doesn’t let go. They’re still hugging in the middle of the parking lot, swaying like dorks, and it should be embarrassing but it isn’t. Yeonjun thinks he could stay like this for a while.
Yeonjun breaks away after some time though, he saves what’s left of his sanity. “I’m gross and sticky,” he explains.
Soobin shrugs. “Don’t care.” Then, softly, “You did so well up there, hyung. You’re so cool.”
Yeonjun’s cheeks heat up. He can’t hide his smile. “Thank you,” he says. “I really enjoyed performing that one.”
Soobin orders takeout once they’re home, because Soobin is a disaster in the kitchen and Yeonjun is too tired to whip something up.
Yeonjun heads straight for the bath. After he finishes and dries himself up, he hears a buzz from his phone. He swipes up to unlock it.
beomgyu: congrats hyung u did rly well !!!
beomgyu: also i took this lol thought i would share
beomgyu: looks like he had lots of fun watching, too
Below his previous messages is a picture of Soobin. It was taken during his performance, Yeonjun registers. The surroundings are familiar.
But Soobin, oh. Soobin’s smiling so wide, eyes twinkling. He’s transfixed on the stage, doesn’t seem to notice that Beomgyu took a picture of him.
He’s got his Proud Boyfriend face on—a nickname given to Soobin by their friends—and Yeonjun feels fondness seep through the crevices of his bones, how it breathes life in his veins. His throat closes up.
This is what it feels like to be cherished, Yeonjun realizes, to be seen for who he is. This is being adored, secure in the knowledge that there are people out there who are cheering for him. Genuine and pure. Radiant when Yeonjun’s at his highest—shining alongside him.
Yeonjun bursts out of the room. His eyes are stinging now, but he doesn’t care. Vision blurry, he can barely make out Soobin’s figure. He finds him standing by the kitchen island.
“Hyung, what—”
“You are so,” Yeonjun charges towards Soobin, “so unbelievable.” He reaches for Soobin and hugs the boy as tightly as he possibly could. “What the hell, I love you so much.” He tucks his head in the crook of Soobin’s neck.
Soobin’s arms circle around Yeonjun’s waist. “I love you, too? Where is this coming from? Why are you crying?”
Yeonjun decides not to show Soobin the photo. He’s keeping it for himself.
Instead, he stifles a smile. “You’re too good to me. Thanks for making it today, though you had that exam.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss that one for the world.”
Yeonjun thinks he falls in love all over again as he leans in to kiss Soobin. Once, twice, thrice. Until they’re breathless and dizzy and rosy red. It’s sweet, so sweet, he is melting into Soobin and Yeonjun doesn’t know anything else but the boy in front of him, whom he loves and who loves him back.
three
The third time it happens is on one of those days when the lethargy hits Yeonjun from the very moment he pries his eyes open in the morning. It’s quiet in the apartment but Yeonjun can’t seem to focus, doesn’t seem to have the energy for anything.
He has nothing too heavy on his agenda for the day, but it feels wrong to laze around and not do much. Just to be sure, Yeonjun scrolls through his phone for the to-do list he meticulously updates.
The following days will be jam-packed, he finds. Yeonjun lets out a sigh and flops back in bed. He is so tired. He should get some rest today so he won’t feel exhausted tomorrow, but there is a lot of nervous energy in his system. He’s itching to let it out somehow.
Soobin’s having a group meeting at a cafe a few blocks away. Yeonjun decides to clean the apartment while waiting, something even he’s surprised about. Yeonjun never willingly cleans.
He starts with his room. Changes the sheets, fluffs up the pillows. He rearranges his shelf and goes through the numerous pictures lining each layer, wiping each of these.
The kitchen is next. Yeonjun organizes the refrigerator, peeks inside their cupboards. He makes a mental note of what they’re missing, too, for their next grocery trip. Most of the area looks clean, though, so he relocates to the bathroom. Yeonjun scrubs the mirror until there aren’t any visible fingerprints on the glass. He shuffles through their many skin care and hygiene products, makes sure everything’s in the right place.
The door opens about two hours later. Yeonjun’s lounging on the couch. “Hi,” he greets, sitting up to look at Soobin.
“Hi yourself,” Soobin replies. He looks around, confused. “Did you clean today? The apartment looks different.”
“Yep, I was pretty bored. Have nothing else for today, so…”
“That explains it.” Soobin joins Yeonjun by the couch. He glances at Yeonjun, squints his eyes a bit. Soobin looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he reaches inside his bag to retrieve his wallet and phone. “Wanna go out for a bit, hyung? Grab a snack?”
Yeonjun smiles gratefully. “I would love to.”
They get Baskin-Robbins. Soobin insists on paying. He gets a mint chocolate chip milkshake for Yeonjun, a vanilla milkshake for himself.
There’s an empty park bench beside the store, which they instantly head towards. “This is good,” Soobin mutters. “Might have to order their milkshakes more often.”
Yeonjun nods. “Mine’s good, too.” Then, teasingly, “Wanna sip?”
“Ugh, what? No way, hyung. Mint choco is gross.”
Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “You’re just boring.”
A slight vibration from Soobin’s phone catches Yeonjun’s attention. Then another, and another. The device keeps lighting up with notifications, but Soobin doesn’t pay this any mind.
“We can head back now if you’re busy,” Yeonjun gestures towards Soobin’s phone.
“Oh, just my grades coming in, I think.” Soobin takes a peek, “Yeah, emails from professors.” He pockets his phone, continues sipping at his milkshake. Yeonjun notices how Soobin’s dimples pop out whenever he takes a sip. Cute.
“Aren’t you gonna check? Haven’t you been waiting for them to come in since last week?”
Soobin nods. “Yeah, I have. But that can wait. We haven’t been able to hang out outside in so long, just the two of us.”
Yeonjun figures he has a point. It’s a pretty day, colorful sky. The streets aren’t too crowded, the stalls are close to empty. The sound of soft chatter fills the air, it grounds Yeonjun and he feels significantly lighter, somehow.
“Hyung,” Soobin suddenly says, setting his drink down on the bench. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Yeonjun blinks.
Soobin continues, “I know how hard you’ve been working these past few days. Heck, even I’ve looked through your schedule and nearly lost my mind.” Yeonjun cracks into a laugh at that.
“But, just so you know—it’s okay to step aside for a bit. To have nothing to do. ‘Cause that’s still something, having time for yourself. It’s amazing that you’re doing so much, I admire you a lot for that, hyung,” Soobin sighs, fingers fiddling with Yeonjun’s, “but please take a break. You’re burning yourself out.”
Burnt-out. There’s the word.
Yeonjun gulps, feeling seen, open, bare. “Y—yeah. I guess you could say that.”
Soobin nods, “I figured. And it’s okay to feel like that. Just be kinder to yourself, okay?” He presses a chaste kiss to Yeonjun’s cheek, pulls away as quickly as it happened. Soobin’s face is flushed, ears red.
“Working on it,” Yeonjun says, trying not to coo at how endearing his boyfriend is. “Thanks for looking out for me, Binnie.” He pokes at Soobin’s dimple, Soobin tries to bite Yeonjun’s finger. In retaliation, Yeonjun leans in, pecks Soobin smack on the lips.
“Hyung, we’re in public,” Soobin whines.
“Says you,” Yeonjun teases, “who kissed me first. I just returned the favor.”
Soobin stands. “Fine, whatever.” He reaches for Yeonjun’s hands, pulls Yeonjun up towards him. “Wanna go shopping? We can stroll around for a bit before grabbing dinner. There’s this new Thai restaurant a few blocks away.”
“Sounds great.”
Their surroundings are darker on the way back, the warm glow of the street’s many lights keeping them company.
“Why’d you decide to go for a walk all of a sudden?” Yeonjun asks. “You had a group meeting a while ago. You must’ve been tired.” Yeonjun looks at the boy next to him. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.
Soobin glances back at him, “What are you apologizing for? I was the one who asked.”
They’ve stopped at some corner, the night lights framing Soobin’s face in all the right places.
“I feel bad.” Yeonjun shrugs. “I know how tired you get, having multiple outings in one day.”
Soobin laughs. “C’mon. I could never get tired of you. We literally live together. And, I figured you could use some fresh air today. A distraction, maybe.”
Yeonjun drops his gaze to the floor. Leaves in reds, browns, and yellows line the pavement.
“What did I do to deserve you, huh?” Yeonjun asks. It’s a rhetorical question, but Soobin’s cheeks turn pink. Yeonjun watches as Soobin makes a face, brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck shyly.
“Um. I haven’t really done anything, but—”
“But,” Yeonjun pouts, shuts him up with a soft pinch to Soobin’s lips. “But you made me feel better today. I think I can praise my boyfriend for that.” Soobin makes a noise of embarrassment and Yeonjun giggles. “Seriously though, thank you.”
“Ah, it’s no problem, hyung.” Soobin replies. “That’s what I was going for.”
It’s 7 in the evening but the sun is with Yeonjun, beaming at him in some random alley near his apartment, and he couldn’t be luckier.
The next day, Yeonjun starts his morning in front of his laptop. Same routine, same clicking noises, same documents.
He has to finish this by today, he has to. Yeonjun will have practice tomorrow and the day after that, and he knows he’ll be tired if he procrastinates on writing this paper even more.
Then he remembers what Soobin told him yesterday, what Soobin constantly reiterates. Yeonjun thinks about Soobin’s words, toys with them in his head, until they’re tucked somewhere deep in the caverns of his heart.
And the tears fall, the document misting in front of Yeonjun’s watery eyes. “Damn you, Choi Soobin, why are you always right?” He whispers as he picks his phone up.
Yeonjun taps at the first contact, sends him a message: hey, i love you.
The reply comes instantly: i love you too ^__^.
Yeonjun buries his face on his pillow. Really, how did he get this lucky?
He stays like that for a few minutes, allowing himself to take a breather, before grabbing his laptop to get back to work. It’s okay to feel this way, it’s okay to lose sight of the road.
Because Yeonjun has Soobin. Soobin who tells him he’s proud of him, even when Yeonjun feels like an empty shell, terribly plain compared to the image he tries so hard to show the world.
You’re Choi Yeonjun, the words swim in his head. You’re this and you’re that and everyone thinks this way of you.
But he’s done, this time he’s done. Yeonjun has always prided himself on his ability to adhere to expectations, but the pressure’s too much sometimes, it makes him lose sight of what’s important. So Yeonjun will let them crash down, he has to learn how. Because he’s human, too, and he’s glad he has Soobin to help remind him of his worth during Yeonjun’s darker days.
“I cried ‘cause of you today,” Yeonjun says that night, once they’ve turned the lights off before bed.
He feels Soobin turn to his side to face him. Yeonjun shifts closer to Soobin, pulls the covers up.
“Everything okay?” Soobin asks, worried.
Yeonjun reaches for Soobin’s chin, plays with the skin there. “Yeah, happy tears, don’t worry. Just thought about what you said yesterday.” Yeonjun’s fingers trace the outline of Soobin’s jaw.
“Was that when you texted me?”
“Mhm.”
Soobin hums. “Well, ‘m glad you’re feeling better.”
Yeonjun sets it free then, the part of himself he let sink into the marrow of his bones. He takes it into his hands, lets it slide through his fingers, watches as it disappears into the shadows and mingles with the sky. He’s had enough of submerging things into the depths of his being, subjecting them into eons of darkness.
Lying in pools of stars, Yeonjun is warm and delicate and loved. So, so loved.
“Me, too.”
and the one time Soobin cries
The mug of coffee is warm to the touch.
Golden toast is stacked in front of them, a plate of scrambled eggs to go with. The day is new and the birds are chirping. Soobin’s jovial as he chatters on and on, only stopping occasionally to answer the messages that pop up on his phone. Yeonjun thinks this is what happiness feels like—the blinding delight on Soobin’s face, the way his voice tilts in surprise with each new notification.
“High school friends are greeting me, too?” Soobin is a quick typer, fingers flying through the screen. “Haven’t talked to these people in ages.”
“Well, birthdays are like that, I think.” Yeonjun muses, staring at how gently the morning light caresses Soobin’s features. “Reminds you that all these people—even those whom you don’t think about quite often—love you and are celebrating with you.”
Soobin looks up from his phone. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
Yeonjun grins cheekily, tucks a piece of Soobin’s hair behind his ear. “So, a year older today, huh. How does it feel, baby?”
“Doesn’t feel like anything’s changed yet, but I’m happy.” Soobin does seem happy, his eyes are shining, though he has an aura of tiredness about him. Understandably so, as Soobin hadn’t slept well last night, due to a cold striking him hours prior.
His sniffles are louder now, accompanied by a few coughs. Yeonjun made sure he took his meds and had enough glasses of water yesterday—”Can’t have you sick in bed during your birthday, of all days,”—and Soobin insisted he was fine.
As expected, Soobin’s voice got slightly scratchier once he woke up, but it looks like this doesn’t affect him too much, if the excited expression he’s had since he opened his eyes today is any indication. Yeonjun’s glad.
But he does have to change their plans for the day. He can’t risk his boyfriend’s condition getting any worse. Yeonjun knows the feeling, knows how downright annoying it is to have to stay at home, faint and feverish.
So as Soobin leaves to visit his family for lunch, Yeonjun makes adjustments.
He calls the restaurant first.
Hi, yes, this is Choi Yeonjun. Any chance I can order in advance and have it delivered, instead of pushing through with my reservation? Ah, that’s great. Yes—thanks so much!
Second, he tells their friends.
“Oh, that sucks,” comes Kai’s voice from the other end. “We can’t exactly reschedule that one, can we?”
“Nope,” Yeonjun replies. “I do have an idea, though, are Taehyun and Beomgyu there with you?”
There some shuffling on the other end: a door creaking open, a few murmurs. “Yep! You’re on speaker now, hyung!”
Yeonjun sits cross-legged on the bed. “Great. Now, here’s what we’re gonna do…”
At 6 in the evening, Yeonjun comes to pick Soobin up at the station.
“There’s my birthday boy,” Yeonjun greets, as the train doors close. “You okay?” Yeonjun adjusts Soobin’s beanie and Soobin closes his eyes for a bit, leaning towards the touch.
“I’m good, hyung.” Soobin’s voice has gotten even raspier, his nose is slightly red. Concern pierces Yeonjun in the gut.
“Binnie,” Yeonjun pouts, “you sound worse than a while ago…You sure you don’t wanna just lie in bed tonight, or something?”
Soobin shakes his head frantically, “But where’s the fun in that? Birthdays only come once a year.” He elbows Yeonjun. “Besides, if my cold gets worse, I could deal with that tomorrow. Get a day off, maybe.” Soobin chuckles. “Now that would be a good present.”
Yeonjun scrunches his face in mock indignation. “Suit yourself.”
The walk home is chilly and rich with palpable allusions to the winter season—people are clad in thick coats, steamy paper cups in their grasp. Yeonjun feels the miniscule presence of snowflakes on his face, the way they melt instantly on his skin. Soobin is pressed so closely to his side that Yeonjun is hyper aware of Soobin’s quiet sniffles, his occasional shivers. Yeonjun pulls Soobin closer with each tremble. His right arm is steady where it’s wrapped around Soobin’s waist.
Yeonjun sucks in a breath as they reach the front door, hopes Soobin doesn’t notice. God, if you are there, Yeonjun thinks, please let this be a success.
The room opens and it’s pitch dark. When Yeonjun doesn’t make any move to turn the lights on, Yeonjun feels Soobin fidget beside him. “Hyung, the lights—”
A loud explosion cuts Soobin off as he gasps, surprised. Yeonjun has to force himself to keep a straight face as the lights open to reveal the chaotic state of their apartment. There’s confetti everywhere, the area is littered with color. On the table sits plates of takeout and messily wrapped presents. Beomgyu’s fingers are on the light switch, Kai’s got his arms full with party poppers and is standing in the middle of the room, Taehyun’s shielding the dining area from confetti, screeching at the top of his lungs because, “The food, Kai—confetti can’t touch the food—!” And it’s such an amusing sight, Yeonjun cannot help it: he doubles over in laughter.
“What the heck,” Soobin wheezes as he’s pulled into a group hug by the three. “When did you plan all this?”
“Ask Yeonjun-hyung,” is Beomgyu’s reply as they drag Soobin to the couch. “We were supposed to go ice-skating today, but he told us you were sick, so we prepared this instead.”
Soobin’s eyes meet Yeonjun’s. Thank you, Soobin mouths, twinkling. Yeonjun smiles and makes his way to where they’re at.
“Yeah! Movie night!” Kai exclaims as he plops on the seat with a large bowl of popcorn. “We’re watching Frozen, by the way,” he remarks. “Both movies. Quite fitting for the season, don’t you think?”
“You guys are insufferable,” Soobin sighs dramatically, leaning on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “How childish.”
Taehyun throws a pillow at Soobin, “You love us, though.”
Soobin doesn’t respond to that, but Yeonjun sees it, feels it throughout the night: the tender way Soobin loves.
When they scream along to each and every song, Soobin joins them, voice hoarse and all. Yeonjun stands to comically breakdance to Let It Go at one point, and Soobin chokes on his laughter—resulting in a coughing fit that has the other boys snickering. Regardless, Soobin’s grin is merry as he records the scene. Yeonjun feels boneless as he drops onto Soobin’s lap after his performance. Soobin lets him stay there, holds him close.
Taehyun gets up to bring the food a little later, and Soobin rushes to help. Yeonjun sees them pour the drinks into five glasses, watches as they grab the plates and reach for the utensils. When they walk back to the couch, balancing trays precariously, Yeonjun notices how Soobin takes one of these from Taehyun’s unsteady grasp. “It’s wobbling,” Soobin points out, and Taehyun shoots him a grateful smile.
Soobin’s gaze is fond, hands gentle when he wipes Kai’s tears away during the second movie. “We’ve really grown, huh?” Kai’s voice is watery as Olaf is projected on the screen, singing something around the lines of “and you all look a little bit older!” Yeonjun sees how Soobin cards his fingers through Kai’s hair, moving a little closer to the younger.
When Beomgyu yawns, drowsily mumbling, “‘M sleepy,” Soobin leaves his place on the couch to fetch a pillow from his bedroom. He lets Beomgyu curl near him, his cheek nestled on Soobin’s shoulder. Yeonjun doesn’t miss the way Soobin adjusts the blanket wrapped around Beomgyu’s frame, the tiny curve on Soobin’s lips as he does so.
The party ends at around 1 AM, with Yeonjun having to drag Taehyun, Beomgyu, and Kai out the front door. He laughs at Kai’s excessive pleads and grumbles. “You guys are going to catch a cold,” Yeonjun reasons. “And Soobin needs to rest—all of you included.“
Yeonjun joins Soobin in bed after washing up. “Did you have fun today?”
Soobin looks at him, then. “I did. I really did,” he starts. “Thank you. For doing this. And for—for treating me so kindly all the time.” It’s shaky when Soobin stutters and Yeonjun stares as Soobin gulps, watches how his eyes start to water.
“Oh, my god.” Yeonjun gasps. “You’re crying.”
Then he’s moving to hug Soobin, arms wrapping around him so, so tightly. Soobin sobs into Yeonjun’s sweater, shudders as he goes pliant in Yeonjun’s hold. “Gosh, I don’t know why I’m this emotional,” Soobin sighs.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Yeonjun pulls away for a bit to glance at Soobin. “My crybaby,” he giggles.
“Hyu-ung,” Soobin whines. He hides his face in his hands. “Stop, I’m embarrassed.”
“You don’t have to be,” Yeonjun grins. “I’m the only one here.” He grabs a few tissues from their nightstand, handing these to Soobin.
“Thanks,” Soobin mutters, wiping his cheeks.
They’re both lying down now, burrowed in blankets and pillows. Yeonjun rolls closer to Soobin, kisses his collarbone. “I love you, you know that?”
Soobin fiddles with the bracelet on Yeonjun’s wrist. “I know, hyung. I love you, too.” Yeonjun moves up to Soobin’s face, pressing soft kisses on Soobin’s nose, the skin below his eyes. “You might get sick,” Soobin whispers.
Yeonjun smirks.
“You hypocrite, I heard what you told them,” Soobin continues. “You guys are going to catch a cold,” he mocks, voice high-pitched.
Yeonjun moves even closer, tangling their legs. “Well. Does it look like I care?”
“Nope,” Soobin breathes, mouth warm where it’s pressed to Yeonjun’s jaw. “It doesn’t.”
“Good.”
They fall asleep like that, in a haze of lazy, sleepy kisses and cozy, lingering touches.
The next day, Yeonjun wakes to a stuffy nose. Soobin just laughs.