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It’s New Year’s Eve, a special night, and yet, it doesn’t feel any different from any other night.
Dongheon and Yeonho are alone together in Dongheon’s room with the lights off, all snuggled up in the blankets in Dongheon’s bed. It’s been a usual thing for them since they were trainees, to spend a quiet evening cozy together, the two of them watching videos and joking around, or working on lyrics, or having deep discussions in the dark with only the glow of their phones to light the way.
The dorm around them is still bustling with activity, the other members spread around doing various things to close out the year, cooking or cleaning or crowded in the living room watching tv or going back and forth between bedrooms as the new year inches closer and closer, the sounds of their footsteps and conversations muffled to a hush behind the closed door, only a small strip of golden light spilling through along the opening at the bottom, occasionally interrupted by passing shadows, and though all of it should serve as a constant reminder otherwise, when Dongheon and Yeonho are together like this in Dongheon’s room in Dongheon’s bed, it feels like they really are all alone, just the two of them.
But just because they’re doing the same thing doesn’t mean that they’re the same. No, something has definitely changed about them in the past year, and in the past few years. It’s hard to say when exactly it started, or what exactly it is, but it’s undeniable, and it has Dongheon feeling like there’s a wall between them, even when they’re this physically close together.
It’s not a bad wall, and it’s not a bad feeling, absolutely not. It’s the opposite in fact. It’s exciting and it’s bright and it’s even a little scary, the kind of scary that makes a person feel awake and alive down to the atoms. But it’s certainly something strange, and it tinges every interaction between them, every moment spent together with some unspoken color that leaves them feeling a little nervous, a little awkward, a little shy and cautious with each other in a way that they’ve never been before.
It reminds Dongheon of a saying he had heard once. He can’t remember from when or where, but he thinks about it constantly, that love isn’t found, it’s built.
Right now, as the clock ticks nearly to midnight, they’re listening to music, a playlist of some of their favorite songs of the year, their phones lying on the floor beside Dongheon’s bed so that the music can fill the entire space of the bedroom. The covers are pulled up over the both of them to the tops of their chests like they’re sleeping, and their eyes are closed, Dongheon resting his head on Yeonho’s shoulder. But they aren’t sleeping, they aren’t even dozing. Instead, they’re reliving the year, reliving the best moments and memories through the soft melodies and the gentle notes.
And right now, on the brink of a brand new year, Dongheon feels the overwhelming urge, stronger than ever, to finally push through that wall between them to see what’s on the other side.
Under the covers, Dongheon slowly slides his hand down Yeonho’s arm to take Yeonho’s hand, smooth and soft, into his own, Dongheon intertwining his fingers with Yeonho’s just as there’s a pause of silence between one song and the next.
The next song begins, a few clear piano notes, and neither of them move or open their eyes as Yeonho lets out a quiet little laugh into the darkness. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Holding your hand,” Dongheon replies. If he concentrates, he can feel Yeonho’s pulse like this through his fingers.
Yeonho chuckles again. “Any particular reason?” he asks.
“Does there have to be a reason?” Dongheon replies.
Actually, there are a million reasons.
The song continues, simple and unassuming but beautiful in the way that it touches them deep down inside, wrapping tightly around their hearts, and though Yeonho hesitates for a moment, eventually, his fingers slowly curl in until Dongheon can feel Yeonho’s fingertips, and though the two of them have held hands many times in their years of friendship, it’s never been like this. It’s never been so warm.
Another song or two passes, their hands clasped together until Dongheon can no longer remember what it’s like to not be holding Yeonho’s hand like this, and at that moment, Dongheon carefully curls up and lies on his side, moving to rest his head on Yeonho’s chest, right over Yeonho’s heart.
And Yeonho’s chest is more comfortable than any pillow, Yeonho’s heartbeat deep and steady against Dongheon’s cheek, though it’s noticeably faster than it was before as Dongheon keeps knocking at that wall between them, and Dongheon has lost track of his own heartbeat that skips around hot and erratic with every breath that he can feel Yeonho take when they’re pressed this close together.
There’s some kind of commotion somewhere else in the dorm, the other members suddenly loud and active, but Dongheon and Yeonho hardly notice, the two of them half-melted into the bed beneath them and into each other, and an acoustic guitar swirls around the room, flowing through their veins like the two of them are sharing the same circulatory system, their hearts beating perfectly in sync.
And Dongheon is so comfortable like this, so fully and completely relaxed that he’s already halfway to sleep even as his foot trails up and down Yeonho’s leg under the covers, until Yeonho is suddenly chuckling, a low and deep vibration in his chest, and Dongheon’s toes pause at Yeonho’s ankle.
“I think we missed it,” Yeonho murmurs, Dongheon hearing Yeonho’s voice like it’s inside of his own head.
Dongheon makes a soft noise of confusion, snuggling further into Yeonho’s chest, and as Yeonho clarifies, Dongheon can feel the smile in his voice.
“I think midnight passed a few minutes ago,” Yeonho says. “Happy New Year.”
Dongheon wiggles his toes on Yeonho’s skin, feeling the slight squirm from Yeonho’s ticklishness and smiling. “Happy New Year,” Dongheon says, giving Yeonho’s hand a squeeze.
And at some point some time later, long after the dorm has grown completely dark and quiet and the other members have all gone to sleep, and only a short while after Yeonho has drifted off, his chest rising and falling slowly, the playlist finally ends, Dongheon’s room falling to silence as Dongheon, who has been fighting off his own sleep the entire time so as to soak up every minute, finally gives in and welcomes the new year like a lullaby.