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Kun lies in bed on day one of that hotel stay. Well, not his bed — their bed. He has to share with Ten this time. For the first time. Kun can’t relax, even though they’re facing away from each other. He needs to do something familiar before the strangeness (the closeness) eats him whole during the night, leaving just his gnawed-up bones in the bed. So he scolds Ten.
‘Don’t bite your nails,’ Kun mutters. He can hear Ten doing it.
Ten grunts, annoyed, but seems to stop.
‘Good night…’ Kun says after a moment. Ten grunts again, in the vague arrangement of you too.
Once more, Kun’s mind ponders a question that keeps coming back to him. It floats inside his skull like the screensaver logo of a DVD player. Every so often, it almost slots perfectly into a corner, bringing him dangerously close to some kind of revelation.
He looks over at Ten. He’s turned away from him, shoulders rising and falling with his slow breaths, fast asleep.
Kun’s immediate thoughts are, his shoulders are really broad. His waist is thin, though, like a girl’s. When he sleeps he looks small, like I can hold him. Not that I can hold a boy like that, but hypothetically. He shaved his head the other day. The hair on the nape looks soft. I could touch it, but I won’t. I have no reason to do that. I would if he was a girl. But he’s not.
He assures himself that this is normal — this, his eyes snaking over Ten’s back, looking through the fabric to imagine the bare skin beneath. The way it might feel warm under his fingers. The way it might respond to a tickle, a caress — it's normal to imagine this. It’s only curiosity. It’s not real. It doesn’t have implications.
It's like being at the beach and finding a seashell. You turn it over in your hands, assessing, contemplating whether it’s pretty enough to keep. Or, if it's just another frivolous thing you'd forget once it's sat on your shelf for a while.
A thought experiment. A thought on experimenting.
Kun turns away, bed creaking softly beneath them both.
He thinks, I’ll get a girlfriend, like it'll solve all of his problems. And then he falls asleep, unable to conjure up the image of a girl at all.
🍬
'Don't do that,' Kun scolds again, on a different day, tapping Ten's wrist. Ten obediently puts his hands back in his lap, no longer biting at his cuticles.
They’re waiting in the car but there’s some kind of delay, making Ten anxious. Kun leans forward in his seat to get the manager's attention in the front seat.
'Gege,' Kun asks. 'Do you still have gum?'
After some rifling in a backpack, their manager presents two pieces. Ten, surprised, takes one from Kun, then thanks them both politely in Korean.
Ten chirps when he tastes the gum — he likes the flavor. He turns to Kun after a while, and cheekily blows a bubble with it.
Later, Kun buys a pack of gum for himself.
🍬
At home, on a different, different day, Ten comes to see what Kun is doing. Kun’s not doing much — he’s chewing gum listlessly on the bed, too tired for hobbies and too awake for sleep.
Ten asks, ‘You done with your gum?’
‘Mhm.’
‘Give. I’ll throw it away.’
He expects Ten to hold out his hand, as he always does when making this offer. He doesn't. Rather, Ten bends down, face right in front of Kun's, and brushes their lips together.
Kun doesn't let himself think about it. He parts his lips and brings his tongue forward — Ten accepts gladly, darting his tongue in kind, taking the gum from his mouth. The sensation is wet and warm and fleeting.
At once, Kun’s insides turn white hot; they churn, they sear him from within; you can blow glass inside his gut.
They steal a split-second breath from each other before Ten leans away and spits both pieces into his palm. He drops them into the bin.
‘Do you have any more?’ Ten asks, back to him.
‘No,’ replies Kun, regretful.
‘M’kay.’
🍬
Kun makes sure to keep a lot of gum on him. When they have time again, Kun offers Ten a piece. He takes one, Kun takes one, and they stand together in silence around the kitchen table.
Half a minute passes between them.
Ten asks, ‘You done with your gum?’
Kun isn't done, because it's only been half a minute.
‘Yeah,’ Kun says.
They lean towards each other, alone together, and kiss. Impatient, nervous Kun opens his mouth right away. He doesn't give Ten his gum, though. He isn't meant to.
Likewise, Ten gives him nothing but his tongue, darting in then back out; returning to sweep across the inside of Kun’s bottom lip. The taste of gum is still sharp and fresh. Really sweet.
Kun tilts his head to kiss him deeply, hands gripping the edge of the table. For balance, maybe. He feels dizzy, like Ten's lips and tongue are the only thing keeping him upright.
The vertigo builds and builds until it's a pressure in his skull. He pulls away before his head pops like a balloon.
Ten's eyes open slowly.
'Sorry,' Kun says. He can't suppress an embarrassed laugh, suddenly aware of how hot his entire face is.
'It's just me here,’ Ten whispers.
'I know.'
'Kun,' Ten chides, drawing out the lone syllable of his name. 'You're grown. A kiss can't make you nervous.'
As he says it, his mouth takes on an odd quirk. Kun recognises it — Ten is forcing himself not to smile. The muscles want to, but they can't win against Ten's pride. That was his way of maintaining some kind of upper hand against Kun; refusing to smile for him, or as a result of him.
So Kun grins wide enough for them both.