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Sometimes, when they would lie together, legs tangled and Donghyuck’s head tucked underneath Jeno’s chin, Donghyuck would swear to Jeno that he could hear the world’s heart beating. Tapping Jeno’s chest gently, he would smile up at him, “In here, the sound of my world.”
Jeno would stare at the gaps in the sunlight filtering through the window, the spaces left untouched by light. If he was the world, then Donghyuck was the sun.
Donghyuck had a way of filling the gaps that were left dark and cold, touching the room with his warmth. He was a summer evening, all bright smiles and soft edges covered in a golden glow. Light dripped from his pores and pooled into crevices Jeno never realized were empty.
The world seemed so much kinder when he shone.
It’s not cold, by any stretch of the imagination, but Jeno had insisted on wearing his designated Fancy Sweater , a knitted design of plain navy blue that he saved for special occasions, such as this one. A decision he was now heavily regretting.
“My parents have met you hundreds of times before Jeno, why do you insist on acting like this is the first you’re ever meeting them every time we visit,” Donghyuck reaches over to pinch his cheek, manoeuvring around the potted plant nestled in Jeno’s arms. The vibrant pink carnations brim over the edge of the pot, the air suffused with their intense, sweet smell.
“I don’t want to take their hospitality for granted.”
Donghyuck laughs brightly, and Jeno can't stop the smile that creeps onto his face, “Baby, you’re basically family! For all my mother cares, we might as well be married already.”
Jeno blushes a deep crimson as Donghyuck swoops in for a kiss before running up to the door and ringing it rhythmically. The world around them is painted golden by the evening sun, making the rustic red of the bricks seem fiery. Donghyuck turns to smile at him and Jeno feels like he is ablaze.
“Donghyuckie!” The door opens to reveal a rosy-cheeked woman and a smile that lights up the doorway. The spitting image of Donghyuck.
“Ma,” Donghyuck’s voice is a gasp from his lips as he falls into his mother’s embrace, clutching her flowery dress like a lifeline. Jeno looks past them into the house and sees Donghyuck’s father standing a little behind him, stoic and serious, though the gleam in his eyes gives away his joy. Donghyuck bore striking resemblance to his mother, from the structure of his face to the intonation in his voice when he spoke. Jeno didn’t see Donghyuck’s father smile very much, but when he did, oh, he really knew where Donghyuck got it from, the smile that imbued warmth in the world.
“Jeno!” As Donghyuck moves to throw himself at his father in a bone-crushing hug, Mrs Lee takes Jeno’s face in her warm, dry hands and presses a firm kiss to his cheeks before squeezing them, “Oh you get cuter every time I see you. I could just eat you!”
Jeno giggles shyly and holds out the pot in his hand, “Thank you, eommeonim. These are for you, I thought you might like them for your garden.”
“He chose them with no assistance whatsoever!” Donghyuck pipes in. “And to think he was pretending to be hopeless at gardening this whole time.”
“I am hopeless at gardening,” Jeno mumbles, thinking of the time Donghyuck had dragged him away from his incredibly comfy armchair and murder mystery novel in order help him dig up holes in the garden. They had returned one hour and pea sized hole later, covered from head to toe in dirt. I really don’t understand how you can mess up digging a hole , Donghyuck had squeaked disbelievingly as he shook soil from his hair. Jeno whacked him over the head with his book in response.
“They’re lovely my dear. And I know the perfect place they could go,” Mrs Lee’s eyes sparkle as she takes them from his hands and presses her nose to the delicate petals. She then ushers them inside, “Now come in, come in! Go put all your stuff upstairs, get changed and settle in while we get the barbeque set up!”
Mrs Lee is cutting vegetables at the counter when Jeno wanders into the kitchen in a fresh set of clothes, the loose white tee engulfing his figure. “Do you need any help, eommeonim?”
“Aya~ so polite all the time,” Mrs Lee nudges him with her hip, “Why don’t you wash the cabbage, my dear, while I finish chopping these.”
“Yes ma’am!” Jeno salutes and gets to work, “Where’s Hyuckie, by the way? He said he was coming downstairs while I went to the bathroom.”
“Out in the garden with his father, said he would help set up the grill. Though I assume he’s more focused on the garden.”
Jeno laughs, watching as his fingers grow pruney under the water. He hesitates, “You know… I’m glad we could visit, he really missed you and abeonim. He’s always in his element here.”
“Of course dear, it’s where he grew up. It’s home.” Mrs Lee pauses to look at Jeno, and Jeno’s heart constricts at the fondness in her eyes, “But you don’t see the way he is around you the same way a mother does. I’ve known my baby since he was just a little thing, and I can tell he’s in his element with you too, in a way I’ve never seen him with anybody else. You’re his home.”
Jeno’s breath catches in his throat, a lump growing in his throat. He clears his throat, but doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he only beams at her in a way that he hopes can convey his appreciation.
“Talking about me, are we?” The smell of lemongrass and fresh basil envelopes him as Donghyuck wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his head in the crook of Jeno’s neck. Mrs Lee smiles knowingly and picks up the cutting board to take outside. Finished with the washing, Jeno sets aside the cabbage and turns in Donghyuck’s arms so that they’re facing each other. He drags his wet hands down Donghyuck’s shoulders, and the latter tickles him in retaliation, both of them giggling. When their laughter dies down, Jeno realizes that they’re so close that he can count Donghyuck’s eyelashes, delicate and long enough to easily hold a cotton bud (it’s true, he had tried it before).
“You smell nice,” he says softly, resting his arms on Donghyuck’s shoulders and idly playing with the soft hairs at his nape. Donghuck had been growing his dark hair, and now it framed his face in soft waves, the kitchen lights shining behind him and forming a halo.
“Smell of Ma’s garden,” Donghyuck replies, an ecstatic smile on his face. He notices Jeno watching him and tilts his head, “What’s with the look?”
“Nothing, it’s just… I like to see you happy like this.” Jeno smiles affectionately and brushes a finger over Donghyuck’s cheek. A feather-light touch weighed with the meaning of a thousand words. “It’s beautiful to see you with your family.”
When they lock gazes again, Donghyuck looks so enamoured that Jeno is caught off-guard, even more so when Donghyuck presses his body into his, crowding him in between his body and the counter. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re everything to me.”
He kisses him then, warm and deep. Jeno never feels more at peace than when he is with Donghyuck like this. Donghyuck’s arms wrap around his waist, and he tastes of the honey lip balm he insists on stealing from Jeno. This close, Jeno realizes he also smells a little of fresh dirt, but it’s all so cosy and Donghyuck that Jeno presses even closer, chasing after it, chasing after everything that embodied his sun. The wet smack of their lips parting has them bursting into childish giggles, and Donghyuck peppers kisses all over Jeno’s face, warmth blooming from each kiss like flowers dusting his skin.
Donghyuck wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and although physical affection came to him as easy as breathing, there had been a time in which he had been unable to truly expose himself to Jeno. Which is why Jeno made sure to answer his every small confession or emotion with one of his own. Jeno had always bared his soul to Donghyuck, and in return, Donghyuck learned to trust him and give him his.
“You’re everything to me too, Donghyuck.”
Donghyuck grins as Jeno chases his lips when he pulls back, “Let’s go out and help with the barbeque, yeah?”
He’s about to grumble, but when Donghyuck presses one last kiss to the tip of Jeno’s nose, the warm smile on his face betrays him. “Yeah.”
The night air is soothing against Jeno’s heated skin, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the crickets chirping in the bushes. Mellow music is playing through the speaker placed in the middle of the table, one of Donghyuck’s playlists. Probably Hozier or something. Jeno didn’t really have any grasp on artists or genres, just liked what was good and didn’t like what wasn’t.
Donghyuck always had good music taste, and his parents must agree from the way Mrs Lee sings along, her voice sweet and soulful. Another thing Donghyuck inherited. A beautiful voice. Mr Lee sways to the melody of his wife’s voice, a look of pure, undiluted love as he watches her. Jeno wonders if he looks at Donghyuck like that, if he conveys his love so candidly. He hopes he does.
Their plates lay polished on the garden table, and Jeno is so stuffed that he thinks this may be some sort of sacrificial tactic before he himself is shoved into the oven. Taking a sip of his beer, he grimaces at both the taste and burn as it drags down his throat. He always was a lightweight, and his body is now warm with contentment, even more than it had been before.
Donghyuck’s parents are laughing at something their son says, and Jeno doesn’t realize he’s grinning like an idiot until Donghyuck glances at him and winks. It’s a little past midnight, he supposes, when Mr Lee yawns, mouth gaping and wide. “Time for me to hit the hay, boys… and woman.” He dodges a smack from his wife, and Donghyuck leans into Jeno’s side, both of them giggling.
“Thank you for having me for dinner, abeonim,” Jeno says quietly, and Mr Lee waves him off,
“Nonsense, son, you’re family. You hear? None of this humble business.”
“Good night, Pa,” Donghyuck says, eyes sparkling as Mr Lee stands up, “I love you.”
“Me too, boy,” Mr Lee grunts gruffly, though the hard lines of his face soften, “No need to be so sentimental, both of you, I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”
Donghyuck sighs happily, body moulding into Jeno’s side. Mr Lee ruffles Jeno’s hair as he passes to get to the house, and Jeno feels like he’s floating on a cloud. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude for Donghyuck’s parents, the way they always make him feel like he’s where he belongs. He beams at Mr Lee in return. A little after he leaves, Mrs Lee sighs and stands up,
“Come, my darlings, let’s clear up and we can all go sleep. Lord knows you boys must be tired after driving all the way here.”
“I’m not tired at all,” Donghyuck twirls as he piles the plates, nearly sending one hurtling towards Jeno. The latter laughs, intercepting it from his hand and placing it onto the pile, which Mrs Lee picks up and takes inside.
“Tell that to your hand-eye coordination, Hyuck.”
The music is still playing when they finish clearing up, filling the stillness of the summer night with a gentle melody. Donghyuck flows like water to it, spinning in time to a crest in the music, graceful, nimble movements filled with years of practice. Jeno always tells him that he could’ve been an idol, and Donghyuck always shrugs, maybe in another life . Jeno watches him dance with a mesmerised smile, and sees that his mother is also watching him, pride written in her eyes.
Donghyuck stops in front of her, a hand outstretched, “Ma?”
Mrs Lee places her hand in his. “Baby, your mother is not as young as she once was.”
“You look as young and fresh as ever, eommeonim,” Jeno pipes in, and Mrs Lee sticks out a tongue at him childishly. Donghyuck clasps his mother’s hands and guides her into a simple swaying dance, fluid motions to the rise and fall of the music, pulling away to spin her as she lets out a bright laugh, shimmering like the tinkling of bells.
Jeno feels a fuzzy sensation in his chest, one he could only really describe as adoration as he watched Donghyuck slow dance with his mother. Part of him wishes for his camera so that he could capture and treasure this moment forever, but another part of him knows that he will cherish this memory even without having it on film. The memory of home. Of being happy.
When Jeno enters the bedroom after his rigorous nightly self-care routine, he almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of Donghyuck sitting on the floor with the lights off. He’s seated in front of the fan, letting the air cool his face. Plopping himself down next to his boyfriend, Jeno bumps their shoulders together, “Why are we sitting on the floor?”
Though it’s night, the summer heat remains a suffocating blanket over them, especially inside the house. Donghyuck has complained on more than one occasion about the appalling cross ventilation in his parents' house, borderline offensive, really. Jeno is inclined to agree with the way sweat has already begun to bead on his forehead, despite him having just washed his face in the bathroom. He’s thankful for the blast of wind the pedestal fan is sending his way, and closes his eyes with a relieved sigh.
“I used to do this when I was a kid during the summer, the floor was always cold.” Donghyuck lies back, limbs sprawled on the floor, and looks at the ceiling, where fairy lights have been meticulously hung up, spanning over the entire expanse and the glass twinkling like constellations against the moonlight. He reaches one hand up to the ceiling, as though to grab them, and ponders aloud. “I never get used to seeing this room again, even though we stay here every visit.”
‘This room’ meaning his childhood room. ‘This room’ meaning the room filled with posters of bands Jeno wasn’t even sure existed (Goo Goo Dolls? He was 98% sure they weren’t real), paintings Donghyuck had created in high school, or stuffed toys he had won from fairs when he was a child. ‘This room’ meaning the tapestry of memories that wove the man that lay next to him, smelling of lemongrass and basil. Jeno loved this room because it was Donghyuck, it was everything Donghyuck was and what he had become.
“You’ve grown up,” Jeno says quietly, raising his arm to take hold of Donghyuck’s hand and bring it to his lips for a kiss, “It’s always strange to remember who you used to be. Stranger still when it’s somebody you don’t even recognize.”
“Good thing I’ve grown up. Who I used to be was someone who hadn’t been taught how to be brave, how to cherish and how to see the world. Who I used to be was someone who didn’t have you.” Donghyuck twists so he’s lying on his stomach, face inches from Jeno’s. The moonlight settles on his skin, illuminating him like an angel. “You know, Jeno, that you showed me how beautiful it is to exist.”
Jeno feels short of breath as Donghyuck presses their foreheads together. “Donghyuck,” he murmurs, the words travelling through his entire body, balancing on the tip of his tongue, scared of spilling. He pushes them over the edge. “Donghyuck, I love you. I love you so much.”
They’ve said so many variations of it before, so many confessions with the same rawness of those words, that, as he says it, Jeno realizes it doesn’t feel like anything monumental. The ground remains steady underneath them, and he doesn’t feel any fear or adrenaline pumping through his veins. Instead, all he feels is serenity, as though the words were a balm smoothing over any rough edges left. Donghyuck doesn’t even hesitate before replying. As though they’ve done this hundreds of times before. Maybe they had, in another life.
“I love you too, Jeno.” He pats his hand around on the floor a few times before finding Jeno’s, sliding his fingers between Jeno’s and intertwining them. “You are my world.”
Sprawled on the floor with the fan on and the lights off, they confess their love, and find that it is as easy as breathing. The summer night is warm and tranquil around them as Jeno finds Donghyuck’s lips and presses a slow, lingering kiss to them. “And you are my sun.”