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Opposites attract.
And Hwanwoong likes it.
He likes that he has to raise his chin a little up in order to look at Youngjo. He likes that he has to stand on his tiptoes to press their lips together and that Youngjo immediately embraces him at such moments and leans a bit to make it easier and more pleasant for both of them. Hwanwoong's started to like it more when Youngjo told him that it was actually his way to help him save energy just for kissing, even though he looked devastatingly cute as he climbed to reach his mouth.
Hwanwoong likes and even loves the fact that Youngjo's hand is much larger than his tiny hand, and when they walk with their fingers entwined, his own hand is sunk in his lover's one. Hwanwoong loves when Youngjo puts his hands around his face, completely covering his cheeks, and bends to give Hwanwoong a kiss, this time gentle and full of tenderness kiss on his forehead, marking him with his affection.
Hwanwoong can see the differences wherever he looks, even when Youngjo is not around. All he has to do is look in the mirror at his hair straight with constantly changing color to remember with longing how lovely Youngjo looks when his hair, forever black and carefully styled, waves immediately when a bit of moisture touches it.
Their skills are different, their personalities vary just as much, and Hwanwoong loves every difference, diversifying their relationship and causing problems or misunderstandings only from time to time. But there are times like today, on a Saturday afternoon, when Youngjo's orderliness and punctuality collide with a slight light-mindedness on the part of Hwanwoong.
“Get dressed,” says Youngjo, running into their room, opening the wardrobe with a flourish, and taking out a black shirt with see-through sleeves. “What are you waiting for?”
“I haven't taken a shower yet,” Hwanwoong answers quietly because he knows that they are almost out of time and that all is his fault again. Like last time. Like always, to be honest.
“Hwanwoong!” Youngjo yells, throwing his shirt on their bed and running to the jewelry box. “Why are you like that?”
“I didn't have time, I was cleaning the room-“
Youngjo rolls his eyes. “You had to clean up because you made a mess first.”
Hwanwoong pouts his lips and looks down, supposedly ashamed. Youngjo sighs in resignation.
“Go, just hurry up,” he says.
Hwanwoong doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs random clothes from his wardrobe, spilling recently folded things and stuffing them quickly as long as the wardrobe closes, making sure from the corner of his eye that Youngjo is still busy choosing necklaces, and this action escaped his attention. He's ready to leave the room but stops mid-step, spotting an ironing board in the hallway.
“Will you be ironing?”
“Yeah-”
“Can I… Ask you?” Hwanwoong asks, embellishing the request as soon as Youngjo's scowl pierces him. “I love you so much, you know-“
“How long do we know about this party?”
“Umm, a week, I guess?” Hwanwoong answers, unsure, partially hidden behind the doorstep.
“Eight days,” Youngjo says. “You had eight days to plan this day, choose your clothes in advance and iron them. You would even have time to wash them,” he continues as he approaches Hwanwoong with his arms folded across his chest. “Even to buy new ones!”
Youngjo's speech seems to be just beginning, and Hwanwoong takes advantage of the moment when he's out of breath to jump out from behind the door jamb and stop him from further accusations with a kiss.
They differ in many things, but some things are the same to them, unchanging from the time their lips first connected, followed with a feeling so strong that even these minor but numerous quarrels cannot tarnish it. At first, Hwanwoong thought he needed only a second to melt into this pleasure because it was Youngjo kissing so well and so perfectly, but he realized then that Youngjo was reacting the same way. Enough was to give his lips a little attention, and he indulged in this feeling completely, just as Hwanwoong.
And so it does, the moment passes, and Youngjo deepens the kiss as expected only to Hwanwoong breaks it off exactly at the same moment that the pressure of Youngjo's lips causes a shiver to run through his body. He does his best to separate his common sense from physicality to not draw Youngjo to himself again, succumbing to being desired.
Hwanwoong knows he's being mean and terrible, but he knows, too, how to compensate Youngjo for the disappointment he's just given him. He's a good boyfriend, after all, but in his own way - the way driving Youngjo crazy, as opposites attract. He completes Youngjo's affection and devotion with his teasing, thanks to which they feel perfectly in each other company no matter what they do, and Hwanwoong is sure that he'll please Youngjo, no matter what he is about to do right now.
It just has to be like that. He can't skip teasing.
“That black shirt with a slit, I love you!” Hwanwoong yells and runs towards the bathroom to let running water drown Youngjo's sighs and complaints.
‧ ❈ ‧
The shirt is perfectly ironed, of course, because Youngjo is perfect. And capable and versatile, and the best boyfriend Hwanwoong could ever dream of. And he's hot. In fact, Hwanwoong’s imagination didn't even reach that far.
Dressed and ready to go, he’s looking in the mirror, actually watching Youngjo bustling behind him, wearing an outfit just as elegant as his, just as dark, looking even more handsome than usual, pushing the limits of impossibility. Hwanwoong feels like he's starting to get too excited.
“Where did you last see it?” Youngjo asks, kneeling on the floor and bending down to peer under the bed. “I will never understand how you can lose your wallet in an apartment. Maybe you can help me looking for it, huh?”
Hwanwoong turns around, and seeing a view like that right in front of his eyes, he takes a deep breath, silently praying for the durability of Youngjo's pants and his own patience.
“I told you,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and smiling sadly at Youngjo as he emerges from underneath it. “I've checked everywhere already.”
Youngjo frowns. “You can do it again.”
“There's a need for a new perspective-”
“New perspective?” Youngjo raises his eyebrows, stands up, and dusts his knees. He looks at Hwanwoong, frowning again. “I guess you mean the prospect that we will be late once again. Once again, Woong, it's strange that whoever still invites us-”
“It’s hot here, isn’t it?” asks Hwanwoong.
Youngjo has managed to make his way to the dresser, but at these random words, he turns around and looks at Hwanwoong with concern, surprised.
“Maybe take off your jacket?”
“Oh, right, I didn’t think about it,” says Hwanwoong and smiles shyly, looking at Youngjo from below through his lashes and knowing perfectly well that now Youngjo starts wondering how Hwanwoong can be so cute without any effort, aside from figuring out his strange behavior.
Probably he’s right as for a while Youngjo is watching him carefully, with interest, pouting his lips as ever when he wonders until he finally gets what’s going on.
He blushes and immediately looks away, opening one of the drawers to pretend to be busy. He holds back a smile with trouble, his mimic muscles freeze in something between a smirk and a grimace, causing such satisfaction in Hwanwoong that he barely stays in place. Even though Youngjo avoids Hwanwoong's gaze, the twinkle in his eyes is obvious to the point that Hwanwoong quietly laughs involuntarily, trying his best to turn this sound into a sigh as Youngjo looks at him.
“What?”
“Sorry, the air is-” he coughs, he sighs. “-Dry.”
Youngjo sighs too, the corners of his mouth quiver visibly. “Could you just-“ he grunts, imitating Hwanwoong. “-Hurry up?”
“Give me a moment.”
Youngjo, no longer hiding his smile, gives him a suspicious look instead and leaves the room. Hwanwoong is certain that in time Youngjo has gained, he will want to clean up at least part of the mess that Hwanwoong has left behind. He knows him too well.
And maybe Youngjo is more disciplined and organized while Hwanwoong is more scatterbrained. After all, they complement each other, even though sometimes Youngjo gets a little nervous.
But assertiveness cannot be attributed to him, and that's what Hwanwoong loves the most.
“How much longer?” Youngjo asks, entering the bedroom after a while, with Hwanwoong's towel in his hands, thrown by him earlier in a place he doesn't even remember. Youngjo frowns, seeing Hwanwoong stuck motionless.
“I'm doing my best-”
“You’re just sitting here.”
“Little do you know,” Hwanwoong says and smiles without a trace of mock shyness.
Youngjo gives him another look, full of concern but filled with the same twinkle, and only then does he notice that Hwanwoong has a button on his shirt unfastened. That one button too much.
“No.” Youngjo throws the towel away, comes to Hwanwoong, and bends down to fasten the button, taking the opportunity to kiss him on his forehead. “You won't go like this.”
“Did I mention-”
“No.”
Hwanwoong pouts, taking off his jacket at Youngjo’s suggestion. “Okay…” he mumbles.
Youngjo walks away and grabs the towel again, trying to leave the room as this never happens. Hwanwoong sighs, grunts, or coughs - makes a sound, and its kind doesn't really matter as the effect is reached and Youngjo's attention is turned towards him once more, enabling Hwanwoong to see variations of emotions running across Youngjo’s face as he notices unfastened another button.
This time, not the "too much" button, but the one from the bottom. That one which should never unfasten under any circumstances, beyond the circumstances Hwanwoong is after, which he’s already achieved as Youngjo's hand lands on his chest where all the buttons are neatly buttoned, pushing Hwanwoong back and causing him to fall on the bed.
“Stop,” Youngjo says, following Hwanwoong and falling onto the sheets just above him, fast enough that Hwanwoong doesn't have time to make a move and softly enough not to hurt him.
“You were the one who threw yourself at-”
Hwanwoong doesn't finish his sentence as it's hard to say anything when someone kisses him so passionately-
Youngjo breaks the kiss. “But you started it,” he pants. “Am I wrong? Sorry if I’ve got you wrong.”
Youngjo strains to stand up, but Hwanwoong's fists clench his shirt and pull him so vigorously that he barely manages to put his hands on either side of Hwanwoong, protecting them from a collision.
“Woong, you’ll crumple my shirt-”
“You will iron it again, hm?” Hwanwoong mumbles, feeling Youngjo noses down the line of his jaw, and his warm breaths tickle his neck skin-
Youngjo bites Hwanwoong's ear lobe gently, tenderly making his skin goosebumps. “We have plans for tonight already, you know? And we're late.”
“I think we can skip these plans,” says Hwanwoong as Youngjo looks into his eyes. “We can make new ones-”
“No, we can’t,” Youngjo whispers and bends down to deny his words, pressing his lips against Hwanwoong’s lips, pouted in dissatisfaction.
Youngjo kisses him as if to include in that one kiss all night of passion that will pass them by, all lust, and Hwanwoong knows by the way he shows this tenderness that for the rest of the night, he will feel his lips on him. He likes it, he loves how they attract, whether they differ or are in agreement as perfectly as their lips-
Hwanwoong feels Youngjo's hand slide down his shirt, and he can't help but feel his touch arousing even through the layer of fabric. Youngjo's fingers brush against his skin in the navel area, where an innocently unfastened button made it easier for them to access his bare skin, and Hwanwoog already thinks Youngjo will do his best to buckle up this button, awkwardly fighting it with one hand, the other drowned in Hwanwoong's hair.
But the sound he perceives through muffled senses doesn't sound like fastening a button.
It sounds exactly like a belt buckle.
“We can’t skip this party, baby,” Youngjo whispers. “But we can get a little later there.”