Chapter Text
Dancing around each other has never been ideal.
Actually, it never really worked out in the end because they always ended up running into each other—fumbling over feet, shoving against shoulders, hearts thumping as a combination of both plays out.
Never convenient.
However, there’s something gentle about how raven hair that tiptoes between navy blue and black feels in the soft hands of Soobin. There’s something magical about how his poor scalp cries something between relief and addiction to the small touches when they lay next to each other at night. Or maybe, that’s the sleep deprivation talking.
Though, there’s something particularly perfect about the way that Yeonjun holds the purple headed male as if the elder is the lock and he’s the key. Maybe his arms were made to hold him, or maybe his body was made to be held by him. Despite Soobin’s larger build, he feels safer in the more toned, muscular arms of the elder.
Wordlessly, they continue their lives as if it was second nature for Soobin to know and accommodate Yeonjun's mannerisms, and it’s normal for Yeonjun to accept and reciprocate.
It wasn’t like this in the beginning.
In the beginning, they played the guessing game.
“Hi I’m-”
“Choi Soobin,” Yeonjun finished for him, eyes twinkling with something that could only be interpreted as mischief. “Nice to meet you. I’m-”
“Choi Yeonjun,” Soobin spoke, a smirk curling upon his lips as an eyebrow quirked from the other. “Likewise.”
They played a game of pretend, pretending that they knew all that there was to know about each other and figuring it out as they went.
“Soobin doesn’t like mint chocolate,” remarks Yeonjun as he watches his roommate, Hueningkai, put a tub of mint-chocolate ice cream in their cart.
“How do you k-?”
“-I despise mint chocolate,” Soobin emphasizes, glaring at the tub of ice cream. “You should know this Kai.”
Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, not all of us can have taste apparently.”
“And what would you know about taste?” he retorts. “All you eat is ramen.”
“He’s right about that hyung,” Kai clicks his tongue.
“Don’t shit on ramen. That’s a world-wide delicacy,” Yeonjun scrunches up his eyebrows as if his body had taken offense along with his mind. “I know plenty about having taste.”
Eyes darted from one detail to another, trying to break the other’s façade down into little bits and fragments.
“Oh my God… Yeonjun relax,” Soobin shouts.
“I can’t just- RELAX! ” Yeonjun yells back, his chest moving up and down as he gasps for air after punching the bag hard enough to open a gaping hole.
Sand falls out of it with a silent ‘s’, like a snake threatening its prey.
“How am I supposed to relax when everything is so-” Yeonjun throws the boxing gloves onto the ground in front of him. He scoffs as Soobin flinches at the throw, turning around to take the bag down and stop the bag from making even more of a mess. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Nonetheless, Soobin continues. “I don’t need to understand it all to know that you’re hurting-”
Yeonjun turns around at his words, a crease in his forehead imprints itself onto him as he grows increasingly more frustrated. “-And what would you know about me hurt-”
Soobin towers over Yeonjun as he grabs his cheeks, tips of his fingers landing on the back of his neck and thumbs caress his cheeks.
He’s back to a reality, where he’s not upset with the world, and only Soobin exists in front of him.
Soft touches, warm hands, harsh breathing—he’s tired.
“Come home, Yeonjun-hyung. We can figure it out together, in time.”
Maybe it’s his exhaustion, but the sand stops slipping out of the bag and Yeonjun quietly agrees, allowing himself to be enveloped by Soobin’s embrace.
Eventually, their game developed when they did find all there was to know about each other, evolving into pretending their relationship didn’t tread into deep waters.
They surged through the muddy swamp that reached up to their belly-buttons and continued to walk towards the deep end hand-in-hand.
It’s three in the morning.
It’s three in the goddamn morning and it’s raining.
“Soobin?” Yeonjun rubs his eyes as his eyes begin to adjust to the dark night. His voice rasps as he speaks again, “Soobin… what… you’re soaking wet.”
He ushers the taller one inside, helping him take off his attire and assisting him to take a warm bath. They’re quiet, besides their muted shuffles, ragged breathing and yawns.
Yeonjun, even in his tired state, would like to be considerate of Hueningkai, who barely sleeps enough as it is.
It isn’t until after Yeonjun has given Soobin a spare set of night clothes he’d previously left at his place and they’re settled in bed that Yeonjun decides to ask, slowly, “What… are you doing… here, Soobinie…?”
A few beats go by and Yeonjun is almost convinced that Soobin has fallen asleep beside him. His eyes have already closed and his body is ready to go into sleep mode along with his eyes.
Soobin snuggles further into Yeonjun’s body. “I… just wanted to cuddle… with you.”
Yeonjun manages a smirk, barely. “Beomgyu’s clinginess’ not enough for you?”
“It’s plenty,” Soobin says, quietly almost as if he doesn’t want to break this spell of silence that mutes their words and movements. “I just… wanted to be clingy with you.”
Soobin’s face is getting warmer and Yeonjun’s head is turning to look at the younger one properly. He places a soft, ghost of a kiss onto his forehead. “Goodnight, Soobin.”
“Yeah. Goodnight, hyung.”
The world threatens them. It asks questions that make them stare at each other for a few seconds longer than they want to admit. Sometimes the other will stare back, maybe reach out for a light touch of fingers.
Soobin would be bumping shoulders with Yeonjun. He’ll be so close that he can smell the scent of his citrus lavender body wash and his heart pounds against his chest.
The second his heart rate can turn to normal, cold hands grasp his own and pull him down so that a kiss can be placed on his cheek. His eyes widen and his cheeks feel so… hot that he can’t remember which cheek was kissed, just that lips softer than a pillow pressed against his skin.
Yeonjun only smiles with cheeks full of pride and he’s jittery, and laughing. He’s laughing as Soobin’s heart pounds and Soobin feels like he should shut him up, but he could never be so bold.
Not out here, not in there either.
Maybe not in this life would he gather the courage to love Yeonjun so relentlessly, so as to kiss him back as a means to quiet his cockiness.
Maybe he doesn’t love Yeonjun as much as he thought, and he’s okay with that, because feelings like these should never see the light of day.
Yeonjun on the other hand, feels his heart pound harder as the adrenaline flows through his veins. He feels like he’s walking on a cloud as he walks shoulder-to-shoulder with Soobin.
Long fingers caress the back of his hand ever so lovingly and the cold no longer bothers him, not that it had before.
Yeonjun always feels warm when he’s next to Soobin. He feels like the sun is showering down on him when he’s next to Soobin. His cheeks are rosy, and Yeonjun feels his own lips curve into a satisfied smile at his victory.
Kissing Soobin’s cheek never gets old and doe-eyes never looked cuter when worn by the younger. He wishes he could frame the expression in his mind, or hang it on his wall—somewhere in the confinement of his own privacy, because Yeonjun is selfish.
He doesn’t love Soobin enough to show him to anyone or share this puzzled look with others. He doesn’t love him enough to publicly and seriously claim Soobin like the movies always do.
They don’t love each other enough to tell each other, so they hold hands and kiss cheeks instead, pretending that they are nothing to each other when they feel like they have the weight of the world in their hands.
But on a rainy day, Yeonjun has a comfortable bed and arms that will encase Soobin like a fragile instrument that he’s protected for years. He covers his head with little pecks of affection and the light pop of lips on skin acts as the only sound between them besides little hums of approval from Soobin. The rain washes away lines in the sand that were already incoherent in the first place.
And after a day of exertion, where Yeonjun must play the role of the person who has it all, Soobin is there to finger through his navy blue hair and act as a teddy bear to hit and cuddle with. The verbal jabs that Yeonjun throws in an attempt to cover up his inner turmoil end up softening the younger, preparing him for the inevitable—Yeonjun’s vulnerability.
Interlocked hands and crescent moon eyes make the two fall into a familiar craving for each other. Every single person on the planet could ask, could see, could wonder, them included.
They grasp each other’s fingers and hold on with latched pinkies, promising each other the privilege of walking side by side—granting each other permission to roam the depths of the other.
“This movie is so cheesy,” Yeonjun comments as he grabs another piece of their buttered popcorn while laying against Soobin’s shoulder.
Soobin chuckles as he holds the bowl. “You were the one who wanted to watch it.”
“I only wanted to watch it because the trailer reminded me of you,” Yeonjun scoffs.
“The trailer was even cornier,” Soobin laughs as he watches the other go for a small handful. “I’m not even like that.”
Yeonjun only chuckles fondly in response, “Shut up, I’m trying to watch.”
“You-” his gaze turns to linger on the other with dancing sparks. His mouth is met with a hand to cover it, which earns a stripe of saliva as repellent.
“You’re disgusting,” Yeonjun’s face contorts to match his words as he whips his hand away from the other, only to create wet strips on the other’s arm that make Soobin’s skin crawl.
“Ugh, stop it,” Soobin shoves him as he finally goes to grab wipes for the both of them from the bathroom.
His hands are gentle as they wipe away the germs and the movie is long forgotten, even though there’s a ballad number going on in the movie. It doesn’t mean much to them anyways, having missed the climax already.
“Hyung,” Soobin calls out as they lay, sleepily dozing off on the couch, too exhausted to move and break the soft comfort of their blankets and pillows on the couch.
“Hm?” Soobin can feel Yeonjun nodding up as if trying to send him signals that he was here and right there, waiting to appeal to his request, no matter what it may be.
“Nothing,” Soobin turns to Yeonjun, kissing the top of his head gently. “Just wanted to be sure of something.”
Yeonjun is tempted to ask what this ‘something’ was, but quickly decides he doesn’t want to know, unless Soobin tells him first.
He will always wait for Soobin, he thinks to himself. He will always be there to make sure he’s sure of himself. He may be selfish but he’s patient.
Soobin falls asleep next to him and Yeonjun can count the eyelashes that flutter lightly as he sleeps. His lips are puckered out slightly, although closed, and Yeonjun has a singular thought as he looks at the younger’s sleepy frame: if only, I had the courage to kiss those beautiful lips during the day.
Their friends ask them questions they don’t have responses to, give them looks that they try to ignore. Yeonjun and Soobin cannot answer the questions their gazes ask, nor the questions they request to know. Simply because they aren’t sure of the answers themselves.
It requires a conversation between them, defining whatever the two are doing with each other, playing roles and dancing to each other’s tango. It requires re-drawing that line in the sand.
Simply, if one were to ask Soobin, if they could go out with him on a date, he would look at said person incredulously at the nerve one would have to ask that in the first place. He’d blink twice, scoff with a chuckle, turn to Yeonjun who would be latched onto his side, unexpectant—maybe nonchalant is a better word to describe it—then turn back to the person, politely, to the best of his ability, declining.
He’d glance at Yeonjun again, who would most likely meet his eyes this time, a troubled pout on his face with confused eyes and puckered out pink lips. Then Soobin would turn back to the person and tell them that he had all he would ever need in this lifetime.
Yeonjun is not so eloquent. If one were to ask him to go on a date, he would stare at them for half a second, before telling them that he isn’t interested. If they ask why, he’d simply tell them that they don’t meet the standards he has when it comes to the ideal significant other, and he’d throw a glance Soobin’s way when he thinks he isn’t watching, but he is.
Blushing, he’s reply with, “I’m sorry, but in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll find anyone who can fill that role in my life like someone else has.”
To them, being together made sense. To everyone else, Soobin was with Yeonjun and Yeonjun was with Soobin. No one would doubt that.
Even during their days of stress, they are the homes they have made for each other. They are the doors they open and beds that they snuggle into every day and night. They are what love is as they know it.
But they can’t say that.
Because love is love—is not what everyone agrees with. Love is love under certain conditions.
Love is love under the societal definition it has and the undertones it upholds. Love is responsibility for things that Soobin and Yeonjun cannot promise each other.
While both want to say they can create a bubble in which no one can pop, they know it is just a bubble made out of fragile soap and air. When that bubble is gone, they will be faced with each other and the doubt that they cannot last.
Pretending that they feel nothing and everything with each other is easy, walking along the thin, messy line drawn in the sand. It’s easy to pretend that the world doesn’t care about labels, and it’s easy to ignore every sign that points towards having to figure it out.
Feelings are all they can offer to each other. Touches are all they can provide as evidence that they exist. Support is all that they can share.
If that’s not enough, then what do they have?