Chapter Text
if I could have only one wish, let me sleep right next to you, it doesn’t matter where
“Hyung, where are you?”
Taeyong knows Doyoung has just woken up, that he has called him because he went to check if Taeyong was back at the dorms and found his bedroom empty. He can hear it in his voice. And also because it’s eight in the morning and Taeyong hasn’t returned yet.
He can’t say he was expecting the call, but he isn’t surprised.
“Where can I be?” Taeyong asks back, a small chuckle leaving his lips.
Doyoung sighs, and Taeyong already knows the words that will come next. They never change.
“Hyung,” Doyoung almost whines, “you can’t—”
“Stay here all night, I know,” he finishes the other’s sentence, “but I was inspired,” he adds, and his answer is always the same too. It’s not a lie, but not even the truth. Something in between.
The other sighs again. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend Doyoung’s there by his side, whispering the words into his ear, hot breath on his skin sending shivers down his back. But Doyoung isn’t there, and Taeyong can just imagine it.
“We have a photo shoot later in the morning,” Doyoung reminds him, even if they both know Taeyong didn’t forget, “come back and take a rest.” The words are soft, almost whispered, meant only for the two of them.
Taeyong imagines Doyoung leaning against the wall near the door of his bedroom, a hand inside the pocket of the grey sweatpants he always wears at the dorms, the other holding the phone to his ear, everyone else still asleep.
The thought that the first thing Doyoung did as soon as he woke up wasn’t eating breakfast, or taking a shower, but checking if Taeyong was back makes his heart stutter, it makes him so warm that it feels like winter has suddenly turned into summer.
“I think I will meet you there,” Taeyong whispers back, he’s alone in his studio, but he doesn’t want to raise his voice, afraid it’d burst the calm bubble that has created around him.
“Hyung,” Doyoung says, more stern, but then he doesn’t say anything else.
After a beat of silence, “Did you eat?” he asks. And maybe Taeyong would’ve preferred hearing Doyoung’s nagging instead of answering that question.
Taeyong sends a glance to the half-eaten bread abandoned near his headphones, and “Yeah,” he replies under his breath.
He doesn’t say the bread was the first thing he ate after almost a whole day. Not because of his diet, but because he couldn’t bring himself to eat, even thinking about eating made him feel like he could’ve thrown up at any moment. It still does, but not as much as it did when he entered his studio the night before, fingers itching to start working on his music and his heart too full of feelings he can’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tries to.
He doesn’t say anything of that, not that it took him thirty minutes to eat the bread, but somehow, Doyoung knows.
“I’m gonna cook breakfast for the others, I’ll bring something you can eat later,” he tells him.
“You don’t have to,” Taeyong says, even if he knows the other won’t listen, that he has already made up his mind.
“Yeah, but I want to,” it’s his answer, and Taeyong looks down at the notebook he uses for writing lyrics, but it’s mostly filled with words that remain hidden between its pages, not meant to be shared. He picks the pen up and yeah, but I want to, he scribbles.
“Thank you,” he whispers, other words stuck in the back of his throat. Sometimes it happens, Doyoung says something Taeyong wasn’t expecting to hear, and then it’s like he doesn’t know how to speak anymore, or how to breathe. He just stops.
“You don’t have to thank me, Taeyong,” Doyoung tells him with a low chuckle, voice still raspy, and his name said like that makes him feel vulnerable. Doyoung doesn’t call him often just by his name, but when he does, Taeyong wishes he could always hear it, and yet at the same time, he’s too scared to ask for it, too scared it’d become his weakness. That he’d do anything Doyoung asked.
Taeyong takes a deep breath, eyes closed, “I think I’ll come back to the dorms,” he says then, maybe it’s better he goes back. If he stays a minute longer in the studio, he will start writing words that are caged in his head, hidden where it’s hard to find them, where his heart can’t reach them.
“Okay,” Doyoung murmurs, Taeyong can hear voices in the background, someone else must be awake. Maybe Youngho or one of their managers. “I’ll wait for you.”
Before he can stop himself, I’ll wait for you, he writes down. And then, Doyoung ends the call.
Taeyong glances down at the ring around his index finger—Doyoung’s gift, and even if it’s just in his head, it feels like it weighs more than it does, as if it’s holding inside all the feelings Taeyong can’t let out.
He thinks about ripping the page with those two sentences from the notebook, but once he holds it between his fingers, he’s not brave enough to do it. He traces the words with his fingertips, a gentle brush of skin against paper, he hears the words played in his head and even if his heart wants to keep them close, Taeyong wishes he could forget them.
He doesn’t rip the page out, but he draws a line on them. It doesn’t cancel the words, but it’s enough. For now, at least.
Someday, nothing will be enough.
⤬
Taeyong doesn’t remember when it started. Maybe he can’t because he didn’t notice it at first. He didn’t notice that his eyes lingered on Kim Doyoung a second more than necessary, that he was always ready to catch all of his words, that even a brief touch of the other made him flustered. Taeyong didn’t notice at first, maybe because he never gave it much of a thought, but after three years of being in NCT, he started to think about it more and more.
Why did it happen only with Doyoung? Why did Doyoung’s fingers feel warmer than the others’? Why did his heart skip a beat after Doyoung smiled at him?
And then, Taeyong understood. It wasn’t a shock, it didn’t feel like a cold shower, but more like slowly waking up from a deep sleep.
Love.
What he felt was love, he just didn’t realise, but it was there. He was in love with Doyoung.
That love’s still there in his heart. It never left and no one knows about its existence, even if it just keeps getting bigger and Taeyong’s afraid one day it will grow too big and his heart won’t be able to contain it inside anymore. That it will burst and it will hurt, that it will leave him empty, a ghost of himself.
⤬
The first thing he notices as soon as he steps inside the dorms is that it’s too quiet. It’s past nine, everyone should be awake, but it seems as if no one’s there, or as if they’re all sleeping.
While checking his phone in case he missed some important text, he walks towards his bedroom. Eyes on the phone, he doesn’t see that someone is actually there.
“You’re here,” a voice cuts through the silence, and even if the words aren’t loud, they startle him anyway.
Taeyong glances up, and he finds Doyoung standing in front of him in the middle of the hallway, still in the t-shirt he uses to sleep, one that Taeyong has stolen many times and that Doyoung has always taken back.
Taeyong nods, “I told you I was coming, no?” he says back, fingers loose around his phone.
Doyoung shakes his head with a small smile on his lips, “I thought you were lying not to hear me nag,” he replies, taking a step closer. The other’s not much taller than him, not even that broader, but right then, Taeyong feels small, as if only by looking into his eyes, Doyoung could understand everything, open his heart wide and see what’s inside.
Taeyong snorts, “I never lie to you,” he says with a voice too sweet. Liar, he tells himself instead, he can only lie because he doesn’t know how to tell the truth, especially to Doyoung.
The other just smiles, bigger, and then points to the door of Taeyong’s bedroom. “Go to sleep, hyung, I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go,” he tells him, softer.
Taeyong nods, but before he can take a step away from the other, before he can start breathing again, Doyoung takes his wrist, gentle fingers wrapping around his skin.
“Don’t do that anymore, if not for yourself, do it for me,” Doyoung whispers, words so low Taeyong almost doesn’t catch them. “Please.”
It’s not the first time Doyoung asks him not to overwork himself, to take a longer rest, not to lose a night’s sleep, but he has never asked it like that.
Those words aren’t what he was expecting to hear, so Taeyong’s left without any of his own. He just nods, even if they both know he will keep doing it over and over, that he can’t keep a promise like that, not when he can’t sleep and the only way not to think is going to the studio and writing everything down, even if the words will remain stuck in his notebook forever. But it’s better like that, he prefers writing them down rather than keeping all of them in his head.
After Doyoung lets his wrist go, he walks towards his bedroom, aware Doyoung’s eyes are following him, waiting for something, even the smallest crack, but Taeyong doesn’t show it, he keeps his back straight and he just walks.
Once he closes the door behind his back, he leans against it, his hands are shaking and his legs feel too weak to keep him up. Maybe returning to the dorms was a mistake, he should’ve remained in his studio even if his heart ached.
He manages to walk to his bed and after he has lied down, he both wishes he could write Doyoung’s words down on his notebook —don’t do that anymore, if not for yourself, do it for me— but also wake up later and not remember them anymore.
Taeyong falls asleep before he can decide what’s better. Letting all the feelings go or letting his heart consume itself from the inside.
Deep down, he knows he has already decided a long time ago.
A burnt heart is better than an empty and cold heart, even if it hurts more.
⤬
Sometimes, when he can’t sleep and at the same time he’s too tired to get up from his bed, Taeyong thinks about what would happen if he told Doyoung. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling and he just thinks.
I love you, Doyoung, are the words that play in his head, love me back, please.
He knows Doyoung doesn’t love him, at least not in the same way Taeyong loves him. Doyoung loves him like a close friend does, like a brother loves another brother, but even if he’s thankful to have someone like Doyoung in that way, it’s not what Taeyong truly wants, not what he wishes for when he can’t sleep and his bed feels too big and empty.
The Doyoung in his head loves him back.
I love you too, he says, but Taeyong can’t live in his own head, and yet, he knows that his love will remain in his body, that he won’t ever let it go, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. Even if he told Doyoung and Doyoung loved him back, they couldn’t be together, not in the way they’d want and Taeyong’s sure they’d just suffer. So he prefers being the only one hurt, who cries in the silence of the night, afraid someone would hear him, who has accepted his heart won’t ever be whole again, that a piece of it will always be tucked somewhere between Doyoung’s fingers, that he will have to keep his body together with his cold hands, even if sometimes it hurts too much and it feels like his feelings are tearing himself apart.
He’s tired of crying, of hurting, but he can’t stop. He can’t snap his fingers and make everything disappear. He wishes he could, that one night he’d close his eyes and once he’d wake up, everything would be gone, that he’d forget about all the pain.
At first, Taeyong believed it would’ve gone away soon, that if he didn’t think about it, just as it came, it would’ve gone away, if he only didn’t dwell on it. He was a fool for believing that. The more he tried to ignore it, the more it asked for his attention, until it was always in his head, the first thing he would think about as soon as he wasn’t distracted enough by something else.
If he couldn’t sleep, he thought about it.
If he looked at Doyoung, he couldn’t think about anything else besides his feelings for him.
After years, among all the things Taeyong has accepted even if he didn’t want to, living with the feelings threatening him to make his heart burst is one of those.
He didn’t try to fight them, maybe because he knew he was too weak to do it, or maybe because at first, they made him feel a bit more alive, they made his heart burn. But now, his heart has been burnt too much, for too long, and instead of feeling a bit more alive, he feels as if he’s slowly withering away. Like a delicate flower that loses petal after petal, until none remains and it becomes dust.
Taeyong won’t become dust, but sometimes, he wishes he could. When he can’t sleep and the person he dreams about is not by his side.
⤬
The clock on his nightstand reads 2:43AM when Taeyong hears a soft knock against the door of his bedroom, and he doesn’t need to check to know who it is. He’s sure Donghyuck’s still playing games with Youngho, he heard one of them getting out of their room to get a delivery an hour ago.
“It’s unlocked,” he murmurs from his bed, head turned towards the door, waiting. He doesn’t turn the light on, the room isn’t coated by darkness thanks to the faint light coming from the window and a small ghost-shaped lamp that he always leaves on during the night.
Doyoung opens the door slowly not to make it creak, but it does anyway, and Taeyong chuckles under his breath.
The other looks at him with an apologetic smile on his lips, and then he enters, but he keeps the door open. Taeyong wants to tell him to close it, to sit wherever he wants, that he can stay there for the rest of the night, and yet, he can’t find the words.
“Can’t sleep?” Taeyong asks him instead, keeping his head on the pillow.
Doyoung shakes his head, “I just came back from filming,” he answers, and only then Taeyong realises the other’s still wearing outside clothes, he didn’t even take his coat and scarf off. He came to his bedroom as soon as he arrived, and the thought Doyoung did that almost makes him believe he could’ve a chance, that if he were to put his whole heart between Doyoung’s hands, the other would accept it.
“Oh, right,” he says, even if he had forgotten, he went straight to his bedroom as soon as he came back to the dorms, he didn’t realise Doyoung wasn’t there.
“Are you alright, hyung?” Doyoung asks him then, he sounds worried and he has a weird expression on his face, one that Taeyong can’t decipher.
Taeyong nods against his pillow, “Yeah, why?” he asks back, starting to worry too. Did something he’s not aware of happen?
Doyoung doesn’t answer immediately, he takes some time to do it. First, he glances at the door, the hallway outside his room, and then, it’s like he’s lost in his thoughts, or trying to decide what to do or say.
“Donghyuck told me you didn’t eat with them,” it’s what he says then, and among all the things Taeyong could think about, him not eating dinner at the dorms didn’t even cross his mind.
“Yeah, I had dinner at that ramen shop near the agency,” he says, which is not a lie. He went there for real, he just couldn’t bring himself to eat more than half because all of a sudden his stomach felt too full and the thought of another bite made him feel like he couldn’t breathe anymore.
It’s not the first time it happens, it’s something that he has learnt to control, when he’s too stressed or too tired he just can’t eat, it has always happened, but lately, it’s happening more and more and it’s like Taeyong has started to forget how to control it.
Doyoung nods, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced, “You lost some weight, though,” he comments, “you look even thinner.”
Taeyong knows the other’s worried, that if they lose weight when no one is asking them to, then something mustn’t be right.
Taeyong’s the first who starts to worry when he notices someone looks too thin, or when someone doesn’t eat more than one meal a day, and yet, when it’s about him, he thinks it’s fine, that he will gain it back soon again. He knows it’s wrong, that the fact he can’t eat shouldn’t be normal, but he kind of got used to it, it kind of became normal for him.
“I’ll eat a big breakfast in the morning,” he whispers, even if he knows he won’t, but Doyoung doesn’t need to know that.
“Go to sleep, it’s late,” then he tells him, “we have a schedule after lunch.”
Doyoung nods, and yet, he doesn’t move to go back to his bedroom, he remains there near the door, looking at him.
Taeyong waits for the other to say something, but once he realises he won’t, “What?” he asks under his breath.
“Taeyong,” he whispers, and maybe it’s because it’s night, or it’s the silence that surrounds them, but the way Doyoung says his name sounds more intimate than it should. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
I love you, Taeyong wants to answer, my feelings for you are so strong that they make me sick.
Of course, the words remain stuck in his head, just like each time, and instead, “Yeah, don’t worry,” he tells him, a smile on his lips that he hopes comes off as reassuring. “Goodnight.”
Doyoung looks at him for a few seconds more, maybe he’s looking for the truth, but Taeyong has learnt to hide it deep, where only himself can find it, and then, “Goodnight, hyung,” he whispers, turning around and walking out of the room. Even if Doyoung closes the door with a soft click, the sound still makes his ears ring, too loud in the silence of the dorms.
After, he doesn’t fall asleep. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling and pretends Doyoung never left to go back to his room, pretends Doyoung’s still there with him.
⤬
The morning after, Taeyong finds some plates full of food on the counter of the kitchen, a post-it near them.
For Taeyong hyung, it says, if someone else eats it, I’m gonna kill you, no exceptions.
Taeyong chuckles, everyone knows to take Doyoung’s threats seriously, and it’s the reason why the food is untouched.
He smiles at the small paper between his fingers. For Taeyong hyung, words he will write in his notebook, meanwhile the post-it will go inside the drawer of his nightstand.
It’s the first meal he’s able to finish after a long time.
⤬
His eyes are fixed somewhere outside the car window, watching other cars drive by, people walking, some waiting for traffic lights to turn green.
He looks at the shops, tries to catch what’s happening inside, but everything passes in a silent blur. Even if he sees people moving their mouths, he doesn’t hear what they’re saying, even if he sees others laughing, he doesn’t hear the sound.
Everything’s muted, dulled out, and Taeyong doesn’t feel like he’s a part of it, as if he’s just a spectator, as if the world outside the car isn’t real, like watching a movie.
Taeyong just watches. Time, places, people, they all pass, and he’s just there, seated in a car, watching them go. It’s as if he’s stuck, and yet at the same time, he can’t stop moving to take a break, everything slips away through his fingers, like sand.
A hand on his thigh brings him back, it’s a soft touch, barely there, but it’s enough to make him glance away from the window and turn his head towards the inside of the car.
Doyoung was already in the car when Taeyong got in, he was asleep, and their manager told him he had just finished filming. But now, Doyoung’s awake, even if they still haven’t reached their destination.
“Hyung,” he whispers, voice raspy and low, and Taeyong can’t stop the goosebumps rising on his skin, not when Doyoung’s voice sounds so raw.
“Hey,” he murmurs back, “good morning.”
Doyoung’s still wearing the make-up from his filming, and his uniform jacket looks like many high schoolers have them nowadays, like the ones Taeyong sometimes sees when in the morning he’s walking back to the dorms. He still can’t believe Doyoung’s playing a high schooler, but he already knows that he will watch the drama in the solitude of his bedroom, almost as if it’s something he shouldn’t be doing.
“Good morning, hyung,” Doyoung says with his eyes closed, head rested against the leather seat, “did you eat your breakfast?”
Taeyong giggles, he watches the other smirk to himself, and then, “What breakfast?” he asks, only because he likes teasing Doyoung a bit too much.
Doyoung groans, “I just woke up,” he tells him, “please, don’t make me think about a way to kill who ate it.”
He laughs, his shoulders shaking, “Kidding,” Taeyong reassures him, glancing down at the hand that’s still on his thigh. He’s tempted to place his own on it, but he doesn’t because then, he knows he won’t be able to speak anymore.
“Thank you,” he says after, words softer, “you didn’t have to do it, you’re already busy enough.”
Doyoung shakes his head, his eyes are still closed, and deep down, Taeyong hopes he won’t open them, so he can keep staring at the other’s face without him knowing.
“And you’re busier than me,” Doyoung replies back, “besides, I don’t mind cooking for you.”
The words make him warm, he’s sure that his cheeks are at least a bit flushed, and the fact that Doyoung’s fingers slightly tighten around his thigh doesn’t help.
“Still,” Taeyong says, just to fill the silence, afraid Doyoung would open his eyes to check why he’s not speaking and he’d see his reddened cheeks.
Doyoung makes a sound in the back of his throat and Taeyong’s thinking about the notebook in his backpack, that when no one will be watching him he’ll write Doyoung’s words down. Besides, I don’t mind cooking for you. For now, he’ll keep them tucked in his heart.
“Did you sleep well last night?” then Doyoung asks, and even if Taeyong’s tired of lying, he does it anyway.
“Yeah,” he answers, maybe too quickly, but he can’t take the word back, “yeah, I fell asleep a bit after you went back to your room.” He fell asleep when the sun started to peek through the window, coating the room in a warm light that lulled him into a dreamless sleep.
Taeyong doesn’t ask it back, not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows that Doyoung can fall asleep in any place and at any time, so once he’s in his bed, he falls asleep the second after. Taeyong has seen it happen many times.
“Hyung,” then Doyoung says, eyes open, locked with his, and just from his voice Taeyong knows it’s serious. “You know— if there’s something wrong, you know you can tell me, right?”
The words surprise him, not because it’s something he didn’t expect coming from Doyoung, but because he has already asked him a similar question the night before. It must mean the other has noticed something, but Taeyong didn’t let anything transpire.
“I know,” he says under his breath, he wants to look away, Doyoung’s eyes are too much, they almost make him want to tell the truth, the whole truth. But if he looks away, the other will understand he’s lying. “I know I can, but there’s nothing wrong.”
Taeyong thought he was good at lying, that no one could tell, and yet, it seems like Doyoung can read through his words so easily, that he knows he’s lying.
“Are you sure, hyung?” Doyoung’s voice is so gentle that Taeyong only wants to cry, it hurts him so bad, thinking Doyoung’s opening his heart for him and instead, Taeyong’s just lying straight to his face, it feels like blades are cutting through his whole body.
He nods, and then he looks away, he can’t keep lying while looking at the other. The words wouldn’t come out. He glances down at the hand on his thigh, and without thinking, he places his own hand on it, and as soon as their hands touch, Taeyong feels like crying even more.
He blinks, again and again, until he’s certain that his eyes won’t fill with tears. He doesn’t want to cry, if he cries, Doyoung will understand.
“I’m just a bit tired,” oh, he’s so tired. He’s so tired that he wants to fall asleep and never wake up again. “It will pass soon.”
“You can sleep on my shoulder,” Doyoung whispers, and then, he turns his hand around and wraps his fingers around his, squeezing them together, “you can lean on me, hyung.”
You can lean on me, hyung. Taeyong smiles to himself, sad, chin tucked against his chest and then he nods. He doesn’t deserve Doyoung, and yet at the same time, he can’t help himself, he can’t just build a wall between them because he’d feel even more miserable. So he places his head on the other’s shoulder and just closes his eyes.
For a bit, he can pretend everything’s alright.
⤬
If before Taeyong was careful, now he’s even more.
If before Taeyong cried in the middle of the night, sobs muted by his pillow, now he doesn’t anymore, he bites his lips to keep all the sounds inside his chest and only lets the tears fall down on his cheeks, afraid the thin wall that separates his bedroom and Doyoung’s wouldn’t hide his sobs.
If before he let himself look at Doyoung more than he should’ve, now he just doesn’t look at the other anymore, and if he does, he forces himself to look away the second after.
He doesn’t like it, he hates it, but it’s better than Doyoung finding out. It’s better than all the other things that could happen if the other did, if someone who shouldn’t did. He told himself he couldn’t build a wall to separate the two of them, but maybe, it’s exactly what he’s doing, he’s pushing Doyoung away, out of his reach.
Taeyong knows he can’t live with the constant fear of Doyoung finding out, and yet at the same time, he can’t find enough strength inside himself to get rid of the feelings, it’s too hard, and somewhere in his chest there’s always a faint hope that just indulges him, his what if, that doesn’t want to disappear.
He has accepted he won’t ever tell Doyoung that he loves him, or anyone else, so it’s not like he has many choices. If he were to tell Doyoung, he knows he’d create a rupture between them, that it would spread to the rest of the group like venom, and it wouldn’t be the same anymore. Taeyong doesn’t want to ruin the group, what they all worked so hard for, the closeness, not for feelings. Only because he wasn’t able to control his heart. So he keeps everything to himself and waits, maybe one day, he will really wake up and it will be gone.
He will wake up and he will just be Lee Taeyong, not Lee Taeyong who’s in love with Kim Doyoung.
⤬
“I’m—”
Taeyong rips the notebook away from the other’s hands as soon as he realises that it’s his notebook. The lyrics notebook, the one he uses to write about Doyoung and his own feelings.
Maybe, he has never felt so angry, scared and ashamed in his life. His grip on the notebook is too tight, and a small voice in his head tells him he’s going to ruin it if he keeps holding onto it like that, but Taeyong ignores it.
When he glances down, he finds that the other was reading through one of his most intimate pages, one on which he wrote his heart through the lines.
He’s not even sure he can speak, or breathe.
Taeyong wishes it was just a nightmare.
“Hyung— hyung, I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Donghyuck speaks, he sounds so small and apologetic. “I thought...”
“You thought what?!” Taeyong asks through his gritted teeth, fixing the other with a look that he’s sure could kill if it were possible, “what, Donghyuck?!”
“I— I thought Mark forgot it here last night, his is similar and he doesn’t mind if I go through it, but I realised too late it wasn’t his,” Donghyuck tries to explain, and Taeyong believes him, but he’s still so angry.
He wants to blame someone, to blame Donghyuck because he went through it without making sure if it was Mark’s, or himself because he forgot it on the coffee table near the couch, but deep down, he knows that sooner or later it would’ve happened. He always has the notebook with him, he should be glad he didn’t forget it in a worse place, or that Doyoung wasn’t the one to find it.
“You can’t tell anyone,” Taeyong tells Donghyuck then, serious, but keeping his voice low, afraid someone could hear him, “not even Mark, Donghyuck, I’m not kidding.”
The other nods, again and again, “Yeah, hyung, I promise,” he whispers back, hands clasped in front of his abdomen and head lowered, looking like a kid getting scolded by a parent.
Taeyong sighs, he closes his eyes for a moment and then, “It’s alright, you didn’t know,” he tells him with a softer voice, trying his best to comfort him, even if he still feels like fire is burning him from the inside. Donghyuck looks like guilt is eating him alive, and Taeyong doesn’t want him to feel bad about something he didn’t do with malice. “Don’t feel guilty, mh?”
Donghyuck looks up at him, timid, “Okay, hyung,” he agrees, words said under his breath, but he doesn’t look much different from seconds before.
Taeyong regrets being too harsh, as soon as he saw his notebook between fingers that weren’t his, it felt like the world crumpled down on his shoulders, like it was the end, and he couldn’t stop himself.
He takes one step closer to the other, and then he wraps his arms around Donghyuck. “Hyung’s sorry too,” he whispers against his hair, letting Donghyuck lean his head on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have looked,” Donghyuck murmurs, tightening the grip of his arms around Taeyong’s torso, “it will be our secret.”
Taeyong chuckles, he pats his hand on Donghyuck’s back, and realises that even if they’re in the middle of the living room, where anyone could see them and ask them what they’re doing, he doesn’t want to break the hug, so he just tightens his hold around the other too.
He feels comforted, it’s not as bad as he thought, now that someone knows he feels less lonely, as if a little piece of his heart is free from his own iron grip.
He feels a bit lighter.
“Taeyong hyung,” Donghyuck says, getting his attention, and Taeyong makes a sound in the back of his throat to let the other know he’s listening.
“Your words were beautiful,” he tells him then, voice gentle, “I could feel them on my skin and they almost made me cry.”
Taeyong smiles, and if his eyes water, Donghyuck doesn’t need to know. “Thank you,” he whispers back, voice feeble.
“I’m sure the person they’re for will love them and that one day, they will love you too.”
He can’t stop the tears that fall down his cheeks, but Donghyuck pretends like they’re not wetting his t-shirt, and Taeyong’s thankful.
Donghyuck grips the back of the hoodie Taeyong’s wearing with both his hands, knuckles pressed against him, and it’s enough to help Taeyong keep his body whole, to keep all of his broken pieces glued together.
⤬
Now that Donghyuck knows, Taeyong doesn’t feel as lonely as he felt before, even if Donghyuck can’t help him, even if in the end, nothing changed. Donghyuck can’t make his feelings go away or make Doyoung love him back, and yet, Taeyong feels relieved somehow. Maybe because Donghyuck didn’t belittle his feelings, instead he gave him strength, he comforted him, and deep down, Taeyong wonders if what the other said will become true.
Taeyong knows he wants it to become true, and yet at the same time, he’s so scared. He wants to be selfish, he wants it so bad, but he can’t, not when he could hurt the other members, not when he could ruin everything they’ve built with their scraped and bloodied hands.
Someday, he tells himself, maybe someday. But not yet, and Taeyong has learnt to live with it, even if he knows it’s not fair to hide a part of himself.
Donghyuck doesn’t bring it up, not when the others are there and not when they’re alone either, but if their eyes meet, Taeyong sees what Donghyuck has read on his notebook and what they’ve talked about in the other’s eyes, hidden, but still on plain sight for Taeyong.
It’s the reason why he’s not surprised when days later, Donghyuck finds him in the kitchen’s dorms and questions are in his eyes. Taeyong’s glad the other has waited for a moment when no one could hear them, when it’s only the two of them in the dorms.
Taeyong smiles at him, but he doesn’t say anything, he keeps eating his cereal and waits for Donghyuck to speak. He just watches the other opening the fridge and staring at what’s inside, which is not much, but in the end, Donghyuck grabs a bottle of cold tea and sits in front of him.
“Hyung,” he speaks, and Taeyong nods at him, waiting. Donghyuck takes a breath and then, “About the other day…” he whispers.
“Yeah?” Taeyong asks, “no one’s here, you can speak, Hyuckie.”
Donghyuck nods, but he takes some moments before speaking again. When he does, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I kept wondering— are you— they were about Doyoung hyung, right?” he asks him, and Taeyong can see on his face that Donghyuck just wants to know, not to make fun of him or to have a reason not to speak to him anymore, that it’s because he cares. Sometimes, he forgets how much Donghyuck has grown up since the moment he first met him.
Taeyong thought the words would’ve remained stuck in the back of his throat, or that his tongue would’ve felt too heavy to speak, but once, “Yeah, they’re about him,” he says, he finds that he was wrong, “and if you were wondering, I’m gay.”
He doesn’t really know the exact reason, maybe it’s because it’s the first time he’s saying those words, or maybe it’s because he didn’t think he would’ve ever voiced it out, but his chest feels lighter. As if the weight on his shoulders that sometimes seems too heavy to carry has suddenly gotten bearable.
Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, and Taeyong isn’t expecting the other to, he waits and gives him all the time he needs. Taeyong watches him lower his eyes on his hands, fingers fiddling with the tea bottle, and just waits, even if it’d take the whole day for the other to speak.
After minutes of silence, “You’re still Taeyong hyung,” Donghyuck whispers, words soft that make his heart clench, “you’re still my hyung, no matter what.”
Taeyong smiles, and his eyes water, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it from Donghyuck.
“Thank you, Hyuckie,” he whispers back, afraid that if he spoke louder, he’d end up crying his eyes out.
“I want to be strong like you are, hyung,” Donghyuck tells him then, and Taeyong reaches his hand towards the other’s and takes it into his.
“You are,” Taeyong says, looking into Donghyuck’s eyes, to let him understand that his words are real, that they come from his heart, “and you are perfect the way you are, you don’t need to change anything, even if you think you should.”
There are words Taeyong wishes someone would’ve told him at some point in his life, it doesn’t matter who, just someone who cared about him. But sometimes, others don’t know the words you need to hear only because you don’t let them see through you.
When Taeyong needed to hear those words the most, no one told them to him because he made sure no one knew he needed them. So he has learnt to reassure himself on his own, to comfort himself, to tell himself it’s alright if you’re like that, you don’t have to change. But if someone he loves needs them too, Taeyong won’t stay quiet, he owns it to his past-self, to that person who didn’t want others to know about what he believed were his weaknesses.
“You said I’m still your hyung, and you’re still my dongsaeng, no matter what,” Taeyong tells him, holding the other’s hand tighter, “you can tell me anything.”
“I know,” Donghyuck replies back, “but now I’m not really sure about how to say it.”
Taeyong knows the way Donghyuck feels, that it takes time to voice some things out, to let them travel from your head to your lips.
“It’s fine, whenever you’re ready, I’m here,” he reassures him, smiling. Donghyuck smiles back, and even if it’s nothing big, it’s enough.
Taeyong keeps looking at the other, and only after he’s sure Donghyuck doesn’t have anything left to ask or say, “Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks, pointing his thumb towards the living room.
Donghyuck nods, and after he has gotten up to go to the living room, Taeyong gives himself some moments to just breathe, to tell himself that someone knows, and nothing bad happened.
“Hyung! If you don’t come here in the next three seconds, I’m the one who picks the movie!”
Taeyong laughs, loud enough to let Donghyuck hear. He would’ve let him pick anyway.
⤬
It’s not peace what he feels, but it’s something that feels close to it.
His feelings are still there, protected and at the same time caged by his heart’s walls, it’s all there, but there’s something new. The thought someone knows and has accepted him for the way he is, that he was not asked to change or to erase his feelings. It’s not much, Taeyong’s aware, it’s the least people who love you should do, and yet, Taeyong doesn’t take it for granted.
If he gravitates towards Donghyuck during their schedules more than usual, he doesn’t do it on purpose or because he favours him over the others, he does it because Donghyuck’s the only one who knows, who truly understands the reason why Taeyong just shrugs his shoulder and someone who would love me for the way I am says when an interviewer asks them about their ideal type.
And Taeyong knows that Doyoung would love him for the way he is, that he wouldn’t ever ask him to change. In a way, he already does.
Taeyong also knows that the others would never ask, that they’d reply just like Donghyuck did, but he’s just not brave enough to tell them he’s gay. He’s scared that if he did, Doyoung would find out about his feelings, that he wouldn’t be able to hide them anymore.
Someday, he tells himself, and lately, it has become a word that’s almost always stuck in his head.
Someday.
⤬
Taeyong starts doubting everything he has always believed in one Sunday after recording a stage for Inkigayo.
He’s waiting for the others to change into their clothes and take off their make-up when Doyoung sits down on the couch by his side.
Taeyong doesn’t spare him a glance, too busy looking at some fish videos on his phone, when the other just takes the hand that’s not holding his phone into his.
It’s not the first time they hold hands, it has happened so many times Taeyong doesn’t even remember all of them, that he doesn’t give it much of a thought, but then Doyoung does something that he has never done. He brings their hands towards his lips and kisses Taeyong’s, twice, soft lips against his skin. As if it’s something he does regularly, as if it doesn’t make Taeyong’s heart beat faster than it should.
“W-what are you doing?” he asks, but his voice is weak, and he’s not sure Doyoung heard him, considering all the voices and sounds mixed together in the changing room.
Doyoung looks at him, hands still clasped together, and just shrugs his shoulders.
“Nothing,” he replies while looking at him. He sounds so calm Taeyong wonders how it’s possible, why it’s only him who feels like his heart will destroy his chest and get out of it.
Taeyong nods, not sure about what he should say. He doesn’t know why Doyoung did it, where it came from. The other tends to be affectionate, but it’s always with the younger members, with Jeno or Donghyuck, almost never with Taeyong.
“Do you wanna go eat something after?” Doyoung asks him and since Taeyong’s still thinking about what the other did, he just nods again. Maybe his eyes are even bigger than usual.
Doyoung chuckles, and only then Taeyong realises the other’s still holding his hand. He hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as he thinks they are.
“Hyung, did you forget how to speak?”
Taeyong almost splutters, but he’s able to recover on time, setting his eyes on the phone just not to look at the other.
“Why speak if I can just nod?” he asks back, even if the words seem foreign on his tongue and he can feel Doyoung’s eyes burning through the side of his face.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Doyoung says, and Taeyong has to stop himself from sending a glance to the other. “I’ll see you later.”
After, Doyoung gets up and Taeyong keeps his eyes on his back until he disappears in the hallway outside the room.
Taeyong looks around himself, checking if someone caught their interaction, but everyone’s too busy with something else, and he’s glad. He can’t even explain to himself what happened, figures to others.
And then, he realises.
Was Doyoung flirting with him?
Taeyong closes his eyes and just groans. His heart can’t take it.
⤬
It’s not a date. Of course it’s not a date, Taeyong’s aware, he doesn’t need someone to tell him it’s not. But somewhere in his chest, even if it’s just a small part, he lets himself believe it is.
At first, still confused by the kisses on his hand, Taeyong didn’t realise Doyoung meant only the two of them when he proposed to go somewhere to eat something. He did when the others all piled together into a van and Taeyong and Doyoung were left alone in the other one.
He’s not nervous, it’s not like it’s the first time he goes out to eat with the other, but the fact Doyoung asked only him when he knew the others hadn’t eaten yet makes him think that it’s not like the other times, that Doyoung wanted to eat only with him and not with the others all together.
“Your treat, right?” Taeyong asks, his eyes are outside the car window, but since the moment they entered the van, his ears have been on Doyoung ready to catch each little sound that has come from him.
Doyoung laughs, and Taeyong turns around to face him. He smiles with him, and only then he realises that the last time they were together, just the two of them, was weeks ago in the same van, the day Doyoung cooked him breakfast. All because Taeyong has decided to build a wall not to let the other see through himself, and yet, Doyoung still caught him by surprise, he broke through the wall and made him say yes without Taeyong realising.
“Of course, hyung, I invited you.”
How can Taeyong convince himself it’s not a date? How can he when Doyoung says things like that.
Maybe, that day Taeyong’s feeling braver or maybe he just likes to make himself suffer, and it’s why “Oh, so it’s a date?” he asks with a chuckle, even if he feels like he could pass out.
Doyoung doesn’t answer, and shame takes over him. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, Doyoung’s just too nice to tell him something. But when he thinks he has ruined the mood, the other chuckles too, a smile that seems more like a smirk appears on his lips.
“If you wanna call it that, then yeah, Taeyong,” he says under his breath, voice lower than it normally is and more serious than Taeyong expected, and just like always, hearing his name said by the other sends a shiver down his back. If Doyoung was aware of it, he’d be able to make him feel weak so easily.
Taeyong nods, not feeling brave enough anymore, and he just turns his head towards the window. If he hears the other snort, Taeyong ignores him.
Doyoung says he can never win when it’s against Taeyong, but actually, it’s the contrary, Taeyong doesn’t even try to because he knows he has lost from the start, not when Doyoung can make him so weak with just his own name. Taeyong knows it’s kind of pathetic, but he can’t stop it. He can’t stop the way it feels, as if all of his organs have liquefied and as if all the strength he has in his body disappeared.
It’s like Doyoung’s doing it on purpose, like he’s trying to push Taeyong to his limits and be the first one to see him crack. He started with the kisses, then calling it a date, and Taeyong doesn’t know what’s next, if he can really handle it.
It isn’t noticeable if you don’t look for it, but at some point there was a slight change in Doyoung, something Taeyong can’t explain and that he didn’t notice until then. The other’s always the same, and yet at the same time, he’s not.
But he can’t know, right? Taeyong has kept it hidden, the only one who knows is Donghyuck, who has promised to keep it a secret and Taeyong trusts him.
And then, Doyoung says something that makes his heart beat faster and his hands sweat.
“Remember the other day when that interviewer asked us about our ideal type?” he asks, and Taeyong just hums, but he doesn’t turn around to look at the other, not when Doyoung was the person he had in his mind while answering that question. “Why did you answer like that?”
Taeyong wants to open the car door and leave, even if he can’t really do it, he’d do anything if it meant he didn’t have to answer Doyoung’s question.
“Why are you asking that?” he asks back, he’s so close to the glass window that his breath creates moisture on it. He doesn’t want to answer, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how. It’s not like he can say I was thinking about you.
“Just curious.”
Taeyong wants to turn his face to look at the other’s, but he can’t because Doyoung’s eyes would rip the truth away from his chest. Taeyong’s so weak when it comes to his own feelings and Doyoung.
“It felt like the right thing to say.”
Taeyong could lie, he could say he doesn’t even remember his answer, that he just came up with it to give a good answer, but he doesn’t. Doyoung doesn’t deserve it, not when Taeyong constantly lies to him and doesn’t tell him the way he really feels.
“Is it true, though? Is it really what you’re looking for in someone?” Doyoung then asks, he sounds so serious and Taeyong hates that he can’t understand why it’s so important for the other to know.
“Yeah, Doie, but it’s not like I can.” It’s not a lie, he’s just omitting some things.
“What do you mean?”
Taeyong shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t have enough time to find someone like that,” because I only want you, it’s what he doesn’t say.
After that, Doyoung doesn’t say anything else, and Taeyong doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not, if it was the answer Doyoung wanted to hear. He should pry, understand the reason why the other was interested, but Taeyong’s scared he’d reveal something he shouldn’t reveal if he keeps talking, so he doesn’t say anything else either.
It’s quiet for the rest of the ride, and even if Taeyong doesn’t turn around to check, he knows Doyoung’s eyes are on him for the whole time.
He just wishes he’d understand why.
⤬
After that Sunday, Doyoung goes back to being his usual self, the one Taeyong has learnt to know since their trainee days.
Actually, he went back to being the Doyoung he has always known as soon as they got out of the van, and once they sat down to order, he was himself again, not asking strange questions and not staring at him with an expression on his face that Taeyong couldn’t decipher.
That day is their first free day after two weeks full of schedules, and even if Taeyong should go to the agency to work on some new beats and lyrics, he doesn’t. Not because he’s tired, but because he doesn’t feel inspired and he already knows nothing good would come out. And yet, he doesn’t want to waste the whole day lying down on his bed, so he does something he hasn’t done in a while.
Taeyong wears something plain, just a hoodie and a pair of light jeans, and then, once he’s sure he has his phone, wallet and notebook in his tote bag, he walks out of his room.
When he’s wearing his shoes near the door, he hears someone’s steps getting closer.
“Where are you going?”
Doyoung looks like he has just woken up, his hair’s unkept, and there’s still a pillow line on his cheek.
“To that café in the neighbourhood, do you want to come?” Taeyong asks without even realising what he’s saying, but when he does, it’s too late to take it back. It’s not like he can say I’m sorry, but pretend I didn’t ask because I’m going there to write about all my feelings for you.
The other nods, yawning into his hand, “Gimme five minutes.”
“Yeah, sure,” Taeyong whispers, and then, after Doyoung has sent him a last glance, he turns around and goes back to his bedroom.
Taeyong sighs, shoulders sagging, and then thinks that he really wants to hit his head against a wall. Of course Doyoung going with him is much better than just sitting alone and writing his heart out, but at the same time, Taeyong isn’t sure he can handle it. Not when they’ll be surrounded by couples and his mind will start thinking that they could look like one too, that it could be a date.
He doesn’t even have enough time to calm or prepare himself, he doesn’t have the five minutes Doyoung asked for, because only after what feels like three, Doyoung’s already out of his room, hair combed down, wearing a black t-shirt with a checked shirt on it and dark pants. Taeyong has to stop himself from staring at the other for too long or he won’t even make it out of the door without his heart beating faster.
They walk to the café is quick, and Taeyong wishes he had said he was going to a café further from their dorms, so he’d be able to brush his hand against the other’s more than once, let their shoulders touch for longer while walking. But he hasn’t, so after a few minutes, they’re already inside the café, sitting one in front of the other.
“What were you gonna do here?” Doyoung asks him after he has taken a sip from his iced coffee. His fingers are wrapped around the cup, and Taeyong can’t help noticing the ring on his middle finger, the one that looks like his. The one Taeyong has around his index finger.
“Nothing much, just drink something and relax,” he answers, even if it’s not what he planned to do.
Doyoung hums, and then he takes another sip from the straw, not looking away from Taeyong. His eyes feel so intense that Taeyong has to turn his face to the side, a hand placed under his chin and then, he pretends to be interested in the pictures attached to the wall.
“Hyung.”
Taeyong doesn’t know for how long he has been staring at the wall, but he doesn’t want to face the other, to see the couple seated behind Doyoung and think that they must look like them.
“Taeyong, I have to tell you something.”
At his name, his neck snaps so fast that he doesn’t even realise it. Doyoung looks too serious, and his coffee is already gone. He didn’t say those words just to catch his attention.
“What?” he asks under his breath, his fingers tremble, but Taeyong hides them between his thighs.
“It’s— I know I wasn’t supposed to read it, but—”
Taeyong’s heart stops.
His notebook.
“I’m sorry.”
This time, Taeyong forgets how to speak for real.
One of his hands flies to his bag, but he can feel the notebook through it. The notebook is safe, Taeyong didn’t leave it anywhere, then why—
“I found a ripped paper on the couch and I opened it to check what it was… it was your writing and I just read it.”
Taeyong can’t remember when it was the last time he wrote while being on the couch, which page he ripped away. He’s trying to remember, but his heart’s beating so fast and his head is a mess.
“W-what did I write?” his voice is so weak, and he’s not crying only because he can’t even process the thought that Doyoung could’ve read something from his notebook.
“I— it was about me, hyung.”
Taeyong brings a hand to his mouth. He can’t believe it. Everything’s just a dream and he still hasn’t woken up. But then, he closes his eyes for a brief moment and when he opens them again, he’s still in the café, his drink forgotten on the table and Doyoung staring back at him.
There’s nothing he could say that would fix the situation. That would make Doyoung forget the words he has read.
“When did it happen?” he asks with a voice he can’t recognise, as if someone else were speaking on his behalf, as if Taeyong’s just watching everything unfold in front of his eyes, watching something that isn’t happening to him.
“Three nights ago,” Doyoung tells him, and Taeyong’s not brave enough to look him in the eyes, so he just keeps his on the other’s finished drink. “After I came back from filming.”
Now, Taeyong remembers. He was alone in the dorms, and he wrote for the whole evening about Doyoung, about his feelings, but some pages were ripped out and trashed into the bin of his bedroom. Taeyong must have forgotten one.
“What was written on it?” he asks then, glancing up at Doyoung. He has to know.
“Hyung,” Doyoung tries to reason with him, but Taeyong shakes his head. He feels so cold and distant, but maybe it’s better like that rather than letting sobs break through his whole chest.
“What was written?” he asks again, words a whisper, only loud enough to let the other hear.
Doyoung doesn’t answer immediately, and Taeyong wants to scream at him to just tell him, it won’t change anything, something has already broken.
“A letter for me,” he says, and it’s enough. Taeyong knows what Doyoung’s talking about. A letter in which he wrote his heart down, a letter that at some point he thought about leaving on Doyoung’s pillow. Taeyong almost wants to laugh, in the end, Doyoung has read it anyway.
Taeyong nods, and then, “I have to go,” he says, taking his bag and getting up.
Doyoung grips his wrist once he’s by the side of the table, trying to stop him from walking away, “No, hyung, wait— I—”
“I have to go,” Taeyong repeats, voice firmer. He looks at the other for a brief second, and even if Doyoung looks hurt, Taeyong can’t stay there a second more. “Let’s not cause a scene, mh?”
The other lets his wrist go and Taeyong walks away without sparing him a second glance.
Once he gets back to the dorms, as soon as he closes the door of his bedroom behind his back, the tears and the sobs he was waiting for finally come, and they leave him breathless, breaking through his whole chest, just like he was expecting.
This time, he doesn’t care about trying to be quiet. He’s too heartbroken to care.
⤬
“What are you doing?”
“I’m packing, can’t you see?” Taeyong replies back, voice cold. He doesn’t have any tears left, there’s only emptiness and coldness in his body. He can’t even feel his own heart.
“Why?” Youngho asks, and Taeyong should be angry the other has entered his room without knocking first, maybe if it was another day, but right now, he doesn’t care.
“I know Doyoung called you, Youngho, there’s no need to pretend like he didn’t,” Taeyong tells him, folding all the clothes he finds without even checking what he’s putting inside his luggage, so he can leave as soon as he can.
“But why? What happened? Where are you going?”
Taeyong sends a glance to the other, he looks worried, but mostly confused.
“Back home, you don’t need to know anything else, I’ve already spoken with our managers.” After crying his eyes out for hours. “Can you call him and tell him not to come back until I leave?”
“Taeyong, what the fuck happened?” Youngho asks, but Taeyong just ignores him and walks out of his room to go to the bathroom and take his travel bag.
“Taeyong? The fuck?!” Youngho raises his voice from the hallway, and a few seconds later, Taeyong hears Donghyuck getting out of the bedroom, a “What’s happening?” asked to Youngho. There’s also Mark, who says something in English that he doesn’t catch.
It’s Taeyong who answers once he walks to the hallway where the bedrooms are. “Nothing, Hyuckie, hyung’s going back home for a while.”
Donghyuck’s eyes go wide, “Did something happen?” he asks, and maybe if they were alone, Taeyong would’ve told him, or maybe not, he doesn’t know. Mark by his side looks at him, a worried expression on his face, but he doesn’t say anything.
Taeyong shakes his head, “Don’t worry,” he tells them, but before he can say something else, he hears a phone ringing. He knows it’s not his because he has turned it off after the first call from Doyoung, and he has turned it on only for some minutes to call one of their managers and his mother.
He watches Youngho answer, and in the silence of the dorms he can almost hear Doyoung’s voice through the phone.
“Yeah,” Youngho says, looking at him, “he’s here.”
Taeyong walks by Youngho’s side back to his room, ignoring the way the other three are lingering near his bedroom door. He puts the last things in his luggage and then, he closes it and places it on the floor, ready to go.
“No,” Youngho then says, voice louder, “don’t come back, he doesn’t want you to.”
He doesn’t need to hear what Doyoung’s saying because Taeyong can guess it on his own.
“He can in five minutes,” Taeyong tells him, loud enough for Doyoung to hear too, “I’m leaving.”
He knows Doyoung’s on the tenth floor, Taeyong has heard the sound their doorlock makes when it’s flipped up, but then no one entered the code, and after, he has heard someone climbing the stairs.
Donghyuck and Mark follow him to the main door, and if it were another day, Taeyong would’ve reassured them he’d be back soon, before they can even notice he’s gone, but he doesn’t know when he will come back and he doesn’t want to lie to them.
“Hyung,” Donghyuck calls him while Taeyong’s wearing his shoes, “did something happen with Doyoung hyung?”
Donghyuck’s smart, of course he has understood, and besides, Donghyuck knows.
“I’ll tell you later, okay? Just remember about our promise,” he says, stretching his arm towards the other’s head to caress his hair down. He waits for Donghyuck to nod, and then, “I have to go, the taxi’s waiting,” he tells them.
“Bye, hyung,” Mark whispers and Taeyong tries to smile at the both of them, even if his eyes are still red and swollen from all the tears he has shed.
The last thing he sees before closing the door behind his back is Donghyuck waving his hand at him, lips turned down, and Taeyong doesn’t know why, but the sight hurts him more than it should.
It almost feels like he’s leaving and he will never come back.