Archive of Our Own

It feels like the screen is dead and void of anything–even when it shifts colours, shapes and hues every few seconds. Even when it's Jungwon the one that is making it shift at this rapid pace--it still feels empty.

The TV that hangs against the white backdrop feels as empty as Jungwon’s thoughts try to be. The Netflix catalogue displays on the screen and it dashes right in front of his view, offering him distractions, yet for Jungwon–it’s nothing but blank.

But that sensation is fitting, he thinks. Through the haze he is trying to induce in his own mind--for everything before him to blur and lose meaning feels perfectly fitting. It mirrors what he has been trying to do to his thoughts for some minutes by now--to make them null of any content, because if not, he feels that derailing may be inevitable.  

He doesn't want to derail again. 

He already has derailed enough–the past few weeks have taken him down unexpected paths in his brain and what he has found at each destination he has arrived still stirs weird sensations in him, odd emotions. Still leaves something in its wake that Jungwon doesn’t know if he can entirely face right now.

It bewilders him, all the conclusions. All that he could potentially accept as logic–but part of him still debates if the whirlwind he is in has made him too dizzy, has taken him way too high where rational thoughts can’t reach him.

Jungwon’s brow furrows, the moment he feels himself entertaining even the notion of letting himself think even further–he can’t help that though, both thinking and the sudden mix of confusion and self discipline that his features display. Because he is doing his best–he is trying. 

He also can’t prevent the way he tries to dissolve every single thought by shaking his head, willing for them to just vanish if only for a bit. It’s too early in the morning for that–it’s too soon after waking up for that. He breathes out, it’s always too early in the morning for that. 

For the past month, the dead of the night feels more welcoming than facing the early hours of the day. At least–it does a perfect job in concealing any thought that may be out of place, that may want to tint itself into something else, something he shouldn’t entertain. Night feels more welcoming , when he is hazy, dizzy, feeling everything a little too much–because being confronted by light hues filtering through the curtains gives Jungwon a sense of clarity that he doesn’t yet feel ready to indulge in. He doesn’t want anything to tear through the haze, not now.  

He is not ready to face the clarity that comes with waking up in Sunghoon’s room yet.

To have the knowledge that he is here still bemuses him–even if it has been a month, maybe a little more than. But being here, in Sunghoon’s bed, a white cover draped over his own shoulders, covering his black t-shirt–the one with his college’s logo–and with a spare pair of white sheets loosely hanging on his lap still makes him wonder …just how?

They grew up side by side, never left each other, enrolled in the same college even– just how? Jungwon asks himself once more. How can growing together lead to this? How did it only take Sunghoon moving away from the uni dorms and into a new place for them to end up like this?

Jungwon tries to blame it on normalcy being on the edge of shattering–routine, it was about to fall apart. Losing their routine, it feels like the only explanation to have clung this much.

A small party, a new place, brand new department, traces of liquor, being a bit of a lighthead. Jungwon swears to this day he only was a little tipsy that night, just a bit—it was a simple celebration to bid Sunghoon farewell from the dorms and welcome this new era, You don’t mind if I take your room at the start of the next semester, do you? That’s the closest to rooming together. 

It’s unavoidable to hear the words replaying in his own mind, to forget the naturality of it all–shared smiles, laughing booming, the usual touches. Shoulders, neck–pats, head, thighs, the usual. It is just who they have always been, never made much of it. It is them. It was them. Both, alone .

Once everyone left and it was only him and Sunghoon–and Jungwon wondered if that was it, if that was what it took to begin parting ways. It wasn’t anything catastrophic, but routine changing felt skewed, difficult to fully digest–the alcohol made it feel more distorted than it was as a concept. Jungwon didn’t want to think of himself as clingy–he proved himself wrong.

Them, both of them alone . He actually was wrong. Somehow it clicked, at the same time. For both of them.

Jungwon still wonders how –if perhaps growing up together meant holding the same trail of thought. If that’s why they dived in at the same time, if that’s why neither actually wanted to leave. If that's why it took a single look for gaps he hadn’t seen were there to close–break the barrier, enter the sphere, dive. Forget to breathe. And breathe again–inhaling sweet sounds, drinking them in, a touch of synchronicity and Jungwon’s slightly intoxicated mind repeating,  you really want this, it's clear, just kiss. Kiss him . Keep kissing him .

Cling , the moment kept telling him. Just cling to him . 

Jungwon did not know he would cling to the point sweetness turned into something more. Dust of blush into vivid crimson–the disruption of routine into rapture. 

Rapture , Jungwon didn't know that night and the following ones would be spent getting acquainted with Sunghoon's bed more than his own new one at the dorms. Jungwon didn't think his name would echo against the walls, dig against pure white, press against familiarity–he couldn't have known his name would be inhaled by his own lips. Choked out gasps, bitten lips–something akin to bliss. 

It still feels so clear, and it's happened a couple of times since it first took place--since they happened.

It's confusing. Because they don't have a name, they are just friends, not boyfriends, not a couple– just friends , who kiss, who do more than kiss, who have gasped each other's name against each other’s lips while out of breath, who know each centimeter of each other now. Skin trembling under a kiss, marks of intensity left on each other–their touches left as imprints. But somehow, both flush at brushing hands outside these four walls

Friends, and Jungwon knows that friends don't kiss like that, don't know the other's bed in that way. Don't spend the night entangled, don’t wake up in each other’s arms–sheets don't have a story to tell about people who are simply just friends . 

But, there are too many secrets in Sunghoon’s sheets–some are the ones that are hiding right now as one of Jungwon's hands grasps the cover resting on his shoulders tightly. It makes Jungwon feel like he is being buried by their weight, both covers and secrets.

His hold of the remote controller also tightens. It tightens a little more when flashes from the night before are highlighted in his mind. 

Jungwon flushes–even if he wants to keep things cool and not make it be a huge deal, his cheeks still tint.

He would groan in frustration at the games his mind is playing, but rather, he makes the Netflix catalogue displaying on the screen dash before him at an even more rapid speed than he already was. To see if it helps make him disconnect from that thought. He doesn’t know if he sees dramas, movies, foreign TV series or anime disappearing one after the other in front of his eyes.

It's so fleeting, Jungwon wonders if what he and Sunghoon have is too–if the lack of a name plays against their bond.

Jungwon has tried to be practical. To not make much out of things in front of Sunghoon, he is not clingy to that level–so Jungwon thinks, tries hard to convince himself. He does not need to ask for anything more than this–he doesn’t know if he wants to. A label? Is it necessary? The bond with Sunghoon has been a constant in his life, it is far more than this. So Jungwon doesn’t really think it is needed. It’s okay to not talk more about this–but when he thinks that there may be more beyond the physical things, something in him wants to fly higher. 

It wasn’t an agreement between the two of them, really–not a vocal one. It simply just happened.  

Not many words were shared the next morning, it was only traces of awkwardness–perhaps embarrassment. A simple ‘so… do you want to…?’ hesitant, unsure. Uncertainty swirling in Sunghoon’s irises and a moment where logic crumbled for Jungwon–an impulse, all in all.

An impulse that made him say, ‘Sure, hyung.’ Even if he thinks that neither of them knew what they wanted–but it didn’t need to really be said. They somehow always were on the same page–so Jungwon took it as Sunghoon asking if he wanted to keep things like this. Between four walls, for this little something to remain on his sheets–to stay together like this.

Jungwon quivered, the reason that one time was Sunghoon beaming. 

He does wonder for how long this will last–Jungwon also is not ready to face it fully, the crystal clear emotions he can feel blooming inside him. Perhaps, the ones that are now in full bloom–and he can’t help but think that if at some point the petals scatter, then they will leave with Sunghoon’s name imprinted in their scent. But until that day arrives, he knows it has bloomed, that particular something that maybe was a bud all along.

Jungwon is in full bloom–rose and ruby. Pink on his cheeks, carnelian spreading all over his lips. He blooms, with Sunghoon’s lips against his own.

Jungwon fully booms.

It makes waves of abashment cascade, and because there’s nowhere to actually hide–Jungwon brings both of his knees closer to his chest, burying his face on the white cloth that had been covering his legs. He tries not to make so much noise, yet the sigh that leaves his lips resounds too loudly in his ears.

It feels like it ricochets against the alabaster walls and right back at him–with that question that he doesn’t hold the answer to, ‘Sunghoon…and me?’ And Jungwon usually dives in, all other areas seem easy–but when it comes to things like these, an ounce of certainty would do the trick. 

But you can’t just ask ‘what are we?’ if you wake up tangled up in sheets. Just friends , childhood friends, logic says–that could be lovers…? silliness suggests.

And that’s why Jungwon doesn’t allow his mind to conjure up any thought. Thinking is a no. He didn’t think that night, he doesn’t get to think now.

He doesn’t get to tell himself this could be love. That the odd feeling in his chest, can be love. Jungwon doesn’t get to look at Sunghoon to even consider if what he feels is love. 

But Sunghoon makes himself be seen.

It’s subtle and sudden, but it’s enough to free Jungwon from the blear he induced in himself–it’s enough to make it dissolve, making him feel like he is inhaling rose scented fumes. A touch of rose, far too enthralling to want to get out of. 

It’s subtle pats that trail the mattress, sleep infused whines that carry confusion–Jungwon feels each pat next to him and it makes him stretch his legs again, back now properly against the headboard. When Jungwon makes his own presence known, the touches trail him.

And Jungwon is forced to look. To look at Sunghoon, to look at clarity.

Sunghoon’s head is buried against the pillow, disheveled locks concealing his face from view, underneath white–dressed in white too, a smaller insignia from their college peaking whenever he shuffles slightly. 

‘Hyung?’ the word rests on Jungwon’s lips, he thinks Sunghoon is probably still asleep–but he’s got a habit of checking if Jungwon is there when they wake up. Probably because the first time–Jungwon was hit with the waves of all that had happened and he had hid in the bathroom when morning arrived. He was not escaping, just processing. 

But it became a habit–for Sunghoon to look for him like this.

“Jungwon-ah?” 

His response to his hyung is a path on his hand, letting the older’s palm rest on top of his thigh.

“It’s too early.” Sunghoon mumbles, “Go back to sleep.”

“You go back to sleep, you shouldn’t even be awake yet.” 

A yawn is the reply–but from the corner of his eye, Jungwon can see Sunghoon slightly raise his head and take in the Netflix home screen, “Pixar movies are not there.” Sunghoon says before closing his eyes again, head nuzzling against the pillow, eyes trying to evade the morning light.

“You should have asked Jongseong-hyung for his Disney+ password.”

Sunghoon stills, the sound he makes almost sounds like a complaint, “No.”

“Then I will ask him so I can watch.”

Sunghoon moves closer, his hand travelling from one side of Jungwon to the other until he has reached for the controller, “I will subscribe,” the older says, before he makes the screen fade to total black and buries his head on the pillow once more, his arm spreaded on top of Jungwon’s lap, “just go back to sleep.”

Jungwon is aware it is somewhat early for lucidity to reach Sunghoon– and that he already is making a lot of effort by having a conversation right after waking up –but he can tell that the older is awake enough to avoid asking one of his best friends for a simple password.

“It would cost less.”

“That’s my tv, you are in my room,” Sunghoon says, voice low and still sprinkled with sleepiness, “It only makes sense I pay for it.”

“What? Like we are married?” Jungwon lets out before he can control his mouth–and he just feels Sunghoon tense, his face not visible at all. Jungwon’s breath hitches at his own inability to stop himself before saying too much–a fautly filter that only showcases hesitancy from time to time. Exactly like Sunghoon. So he tries saving the conversation by saying the most random thing that crosses his mind, “You really wanna reward me with a Disney+ subscription, hyung? That’s how you pay me back, um?”  he says, while playing with Sunghoon’s fingers.

Jungwon is sure he has just screwed up, he’s so damn sure–he should backtrack, maybe right now. But Sunghoon stops him, interlocking their fingers together.

“Like I know you for a lifetime and I know it would make you happy–more like.” 

A silent ‘oh’ forms in Jungwon’s lips, he mindlessly takes to draw circles against Sunghoon’s skin with his thumb.

“Don’t make it sound like I am trying to pay you,” Sunghoon says, the embarrassment in his tone is evident–also the avoidance, because he is using his pillow as a shield still, “It’s–that’s not it.”

“Okay, okay,” Jungwon’s words hurry, “Okay, I was just joking, hyung I know you didn’t mean it like that–I just thought it was a good joke, clearly not because you would never—”

“Jungwon-ah.”

He doesn’t need to be told to be quiet, because Sunghoon wouldn’t ever silence him in any way–but Jungwon still stops speaking when hearing his name. He lets a few seconds pass, waiting for Sunghoon to elaborate–when he doesn’t, he makes sure that the older didn’t pass out again.

“Yeah?”  

There is no reply–it makes Jungwon let go of Sunghoon’s hand, letting it rest on his own lap. He turns his head slightly and looks at Sunghoon–locks eyes with Sunghoon.

“It’s too early,” Sunghoon says under his breath, a sigh follows his words, “it’s actually too early.”

To talk about that, Jungwon's mind completes the sentence. He is aware.

Jungwon is aware that it is too early for many things right now, but at times he wonder if it’s the same for Sunghoon–if it’s also too early for him to face each other when under normal circumstances.  And it makes him wonder, if he should maybe just eat something and return to his room–if maybe it would be better to let some hours pass until they can go back to their apparently normal dynamic Where its mutual care, not panting the other’s name.

It makes Jungwon’s lips tremble slightly, forcing him to break the eye contact for once–usually it’s Sunghoon the one who escapes first.

The dead screen meets Jungwon. Void, void, void . 

But he doesn’t know how much he believes it, when the empty TV reflects now something that he can’t just skim over–something that Jungwon can’t make vanish. A picture perfect image, to the point it looks like it has always been like this–that it is meant to be like this. 

Jungwon sees his hair, slightly disheveled, sees the way the covers try to drown him–how they make him look small. Sees Sunghoon lying by his side, pure white, with traces of his black shorts peaking through–skin porcelain, concealed marks on his back.

And Jungwon wonders briefly–how long until the view fades? 

If the broadcast will ever be different, if there may be another protagonist if Sunghoon ever actually leaves like he was meant to. If Jungwon stops clinging, will there be someone else in between these sheets?

It’s not like it would be wrong–but routine, routine can be a difficult thing to break out of. 

Jungwon is derailing again, hidden fears wanting to come to the surface.

He closes his eyes, letting darkness take control of everything for a few–trying to rid of those thoughts, wait until they disappear. Let the mask remain. It’s not that he wants love, he can’t consider this love–not of the romantic kind, but his mind is horrible. So horrible that it won’t give him peace–choosing to display flashes in which he could actually call that emotion by that name. Smiles in between deep kisses, light feather touches all over his skin that he finds himself missing, hands on his cheeks–his own name said endearingly, ‘Jungwonie’ leaving Sunghoon’s mouth before he dives to breathe in air right from Jungwon’s lips.

He is derailing, he doesn’t want to crash. 

‘What are we? ’ Jungwon doesn’t want to collide and hear a painful: ‘Nothing more than friends, really.’

It’s probably because he stills, because his breathing gets caught in his throat to the point it’s probably impossible to hear–because he isn’t breathing at all. It’s love? the years? Is it actually love for real? When it dawns on him, clarity, a part of Jungwon that wants to preserve his bond with Sunghoon tells him it’s better to make a run for it.

But he is anchored to the bed, like he has been more than a month, bound by familiarity–bound by Sunghoon.

Jungwon doesn’t know if his hyung senses the surge of panic, but wonders if it seeps through so evidently, the need to escape–if it’s so obvious that it prompts Sunghoon to make him stay in place. Arms wrapped around Jungwon’s waist, head burying against his abdomen.

Sunghoon is a weird type of clingy, not usually initiating anything, but somehow not shying away from contact either–only gulping in awkwardness when something outside of the norm happens. But he clings, in silent ways, in vocal pouty ways–he is quite a mess. Jungwon is almost the same–so he is aware that Sunghoon hugging him by the waist, fingers digging on his black t-shirt has to mean something.

It must mean that at least he noticed Jungwon was about to look for an escape route. It has to mean he doesn’t want Jungwon to go.

“Hey,” Sunghoon lets out, sound muffled against Jungwon’s clothes, it sounds almost unsure, “...is it really too early?”

To be awake? To think? For this?  

Jungwon is confused by the question, so he absentmindedly rubs the side of Sunghoon’s neck–the older grasping his shirt tighter in response. Squirming a bit at Jungwon’s touch, but not letting go, “Depends for what.” 

Sunghoon laughs, it resounds through Jungwon. At first, his hyung’s reaction confuses him–but once the seconds pass, it takes some seconds for him to actually assimilate the connotation his own words carry. Jungwon can’t bring himself to say anything–he can only clear his throat, bashful.

“Jungwon.”

The grip on Jungwon’s shirt slowly loosens–Sunghoon’s hands hover only for a few seconds before he is shifting  on the bed–palms placed at each side of Jungwon, for leverage, because Sunghoon lifts himself up from the mattress and leans forward. Right into Jungwon’s sphere–gazing up at him, close enough that he most likely is able to feel Jungwon’s breathing fanning against his face.

Jungwon forgets if he is even breathing or not.

Sunghoon’s eyes are looking right into his own–from time to time, his pupils tremble lightly, Jungwon knows that Sunghoon is not only looking at his eyes. But it’s not like the older one has been overcome by a wave of courage either in which he would make a move on Jungwon just like that–if anything, Jungwon notices the faltering. The gulping. Sunghoon’s breathing being intercepted.

“You’ll fall.” Jungwon says, “If you stay in that position you will fall.”

“On top of you?”

“On top of me indeed.”

“You are soft.”

“Hyung!” 

Jungwon doesn’t know if that’s what Sunghoon wants, to be able to crash against him–his hyung’s frame against his own. A steady heartbeat rather than one out of control–but he doesn’t know how steady it is, not when he takes notice that rose has spreaded on Sunghoon’s ears, “You’ll fall for real.”

And it’s not like Jungwon wouldn’t catch him, but he doesn’t want to gamble with the possibilities. He isn’t sure if he is ready to know what he would feel if he were to have Sunghoon in his arms in broad daylight.

“I do a lot of exercise to have resistance you know,” Sunghoon mentions, Jungwon curses himself in his mind because he is aware of that– plenty aware , “I am not going to lose balance.”

“That’s not the point–”

“Wonie,” the endearment carries more than it lets on, Jungwon can tell that much–especially in the gap that Sunghoon creates by not saying anything more.

“Hyung?”

“You are cute in the morning, have I told you that?”

“All life.”

“You are cute, Jungwon-ah.”

Sunghoon leans closer, his forehead touching Jungwon’s, trapping him against the headboard and his frame. And Jungwon thinks that this is entirely not fair–it’s not fair because then Sunghoon will ask if he liked the compliment and Jungwon will be unable to say something other than ‘yeah’ . So he plays the same game, “You are handsome all the time, if that’s what you want to hear.”

He doesn’t need to see Sunghoon properly to know that he is smiling, Jungwon can just feel it. One of those smiles, the bashful ones–when the older seeks compliments but then gets abashed when he actually gets them from Jungwon himself. Or pleased , Jungwon at times can’t tell.

“You will fall on top of me, come on.”

The older listens, swiftly moving away from Jungwon’s view and sitting properly next to him–back against the bed, shoulders brushing against Jungwon’s. Sunghoon folds his arms over his middle and closes his eyes–and Jungwon wonders for a second if things are about to turn awkward.

“You are going to space out?”

“I am just thinking.”

“Something bad?” Jungwon asks, head tilted to the side, body angling slightly towards Sunghoon.

“Something is missing.”

Jungwon hums, unsure of what Sunghoon means–but his hyung takes his hand, and he is the one playing with his fingers now.

“Something like what?”

“We haven’t said…” Sunghoon trails off, swallowing hard before continuing what he is trying to say, “haven’t, said, good morning.”

It makes Jungwon raise an eyebrow, bemused. But Sunghoon is right, the first thing his hyung said was his name. The last thing Sunghoon said before falling asleep was also Jungwon’s name.

“Morning…?” Jungwon says, bewilderment laced onto the word quite tightly.

Sunghoon hums as an answer, trailing the side of Jungwon’s hand with his thumb–a haze inducing back and forth, “I didn’t hear that.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t catch that.”

Sunghoon’s not gazing at him, his eyes are focused on the way his hand is intertwined with Jungwon’s.

“You want me to say it louder?”

“Closer.”

It’s not easy to grasp, what Sunghoon says originally is not easy to grasp in the first few seconds–Jungwon thinks the older wants him to rest his head on his shoulder, but Sunghoon’s quick reflexes say otherwise. And it’s too sudden, far too rapid, almost bold, that it makes Jungwon not comprehend further.

Sunghoon reaches for his other hand, bringing Jungwon towards him, making him collapse against his chest–head burying against Sunghoon’s white shirt. It gives Jungwon no room to complain, or to actually let out anything else other than a surprised ‘Sunghoon-hyung what–’

“You should sit properly,” mirth coats his words, and though Jungwon can’t see right now–he can already picture that silly grin that Sunghoon more than likely is armed with. He wonders if there’s any way to disarm him, but Sunghoon seems keen on varnishing his words that way, “you don’t want to fall .”

It’s almost ironic, that he is taking Jungwon’s words and using them against him. But the tone, and Jungwon’s mind trying to discern if there are implications–perhaps, hope –in them makes him react in a haste. So that he doesn’t give anything away, “You have made me fall already!”

“Have I now?”

Jungwon stills–the question swims in his head, a faint ‘yeah’ following each of his own heartbeats. One of his hands holds tight onto Sunghoon’s–the other runs up the uncovered part of Sunghoon’s arm, snakes underneath the short sleeve. And Jungwon feels it, Sunghoon’s breathing, rise and fall, “Is this close enough?”

“Ah–um, I–” 

“Is it?”

“Closer… would be better...” 

Jungwon’s hand squeezes Sunghoon’s arm, the other doesn’t let go of his hand–he wonders if it’s too ground himself before he lets himself fly too high, he has submerged, but he doesn’t want to fly high. And yet his mouth speaks faster, louder than the scolding rationality attempts within him, “How close?”

“Close enough.”

That’s why lack of light is better, because he can do stuff like this without feeling like he actually needs a shot of courage–he can be close, closer than anyone without needing to ask. Because he doesn’t need to look at Sunghoon’s face, all defined. Because he doesn’t need to worry if his face is red, if the shade decorating his features is way too bright.

Jungwon moves his head slightly upwards, lips touching Sunghoon’s collarbone, ‘Close enough’ he repeats against the older’s skin.

He isn’t sure if Sunghoon actually minds, if this is what he wants–and if it isn’t, Jungwon most likely will nervously laugh the awkwardness off, perhaps apologize. But it feels like an invitation–at this rate, he is not going to pass. He thinks he knows Sunghoon in this facet for a while to be able to catch up quickly–the other side? the Sunghoon he has known since way back? That one would burn bright red–would stammer over his words, his thoughts would collide.

This Sunghoon, this version of him burns. 

Jungwon would be lying to himself if he were to deny that Park Sunghoon makes his heart be set ablaze. He is derailing, down bad.

Sunghoon nods, his chin making contact with Jungwon’s locks the moment he does–and Jungwon takes this as his cue. 

He moves with ease, knees sliding almost too quickly, gracefully, grazing the sheets underneath him, moving by memory now. Like he knows the way already–like he knows how to make himself trap Sunghoon’s frame against his own frame already. He is quickly against Sunghoon, easily settling himself over him. By memory, a replay, to have both of his knees at each side of Sunghoon’s thighs, to be straddling Sunghoon’s lap–it feels like a replay, deja vu that never leaves him. He hovers on top of Sunghoon, palms at each side of the older’s head keeping him in place–and his hyung in a cage.

And Jungwon looks at him from above, attempting to fly high. As Sunghoon lifts his head and gazes into his eyes–Jungwon’s heart wants to soar high.

Yet Jungwon also sees wonderment swirling in Sunghoon’s irises, a layer of surprise, his pupils dilating–lips slightly agape. For a brief second, he wants to ask if this is what Sunghoon means by close enough–or things distorted enough for Jungwon that now he’s got the meaning of ‘close’ skewed. If it even is turning offensive to relate that word and these actions together–because close in his world prior to that night meant other things. Words let out at the same time, sentences completed, unexpected matching things. Now close equates to skin to skin, Sunghoon’s heart beating against his, the taste of his kisses lingering in his lips.

Jungwon can’t really respond, words are smudged on his lips, hanging in the air between them.

Sunghoon’s lips are parted, his breathing contained–but Jungwon doesn’t dare descend.

Jungwon doesn’t allow himself to take.

It is a few seconds, but he is convinced that they are on the same page, Sunghoon’s actions tell him so. Because his hands run up from his knees, all the way up to his shorts–and Jungwon expects the touch to be direct, Sunghoon stops himself. Hands travel over the top of his clothes instead, until one of them settles on one of his hips, the other on his waist. And it’s what makes Jungwon consider– this is the same page, right?

Not about the feelings, but this, them and what they share– this is the same stance, correct?

And it’s what makes him take a step ahead, to sit on top of Sunghoon’s lap. And it makes the grasp take another turn, one Jungwon is no stranger to. 

The grip on him tightens, Sunghoon’s fingers dig on places they already are familiar with for more than a month. Jungwon doesn’t move. Only Sunghoon has ever gotten that close. It makes Jungwon remain still, not truly being able to move, not really –rather his sight tries to engrave Sunghoon’s features, an unexpected defined view of him. What Jungwon was not ready to face, clarity. It comes to him vividly.

He is seeing Sunghoon like this–when the sun is out and nothing can help him with this, nothing can let Jungwon hide. If his skin flushes in carmine, if his words are intercepted–brokenly let out because coherence breaks. If he says Sunghoon’s name like an endless chant–all is there, in full display. His newfound secrets? Maybe they won't be concealed. 

They will flow, scatter, with Sunghoon’s name hugging them tightly. 

It’s a risk.  To even be looking at his hyung like this is a risk. To place his forehead against Sunghoon’s, noses nuzzling, lips parted–in awaiting, it’s a risk. But they risked their friendship and they are still here –

Jungwon is still here, he doesn’t mind moving from dark to light.

His breathing is trapped, on hold, lips barely a few milimiters away from Sunghoon’s–and he hears his name, ‘Jungwon’ croaked out, said with tremors. It’s resuming, is it not? As he feels Sunghoon’s palms travelling up to his sides, it’s really about resuming where they left off when they went to sleep

Jungwon is about to descend, let physicality take the reins–his lips fall at the corner of Sunghoon’s mouth. And Sunghoon grasp is strong. Strong enough that Jungwon can tell that this is not telling him to continue.

Rather, it asks of him to pause.

“S-sorry,” Sunghoon stammers, his words let out against Jungwon’s cheek, “That’s not what I–should be doing I–”

Jungwon stops. A part of him wants to apologize. Of course, of course, right–he soared too high, of course. 

And yet Sunghoon won’t let him escape, the grasp on his shirt is stronger and he moves a hand to Jungwon’s leg so that he doesn’t move from his place. But Jungwon moves enough–exactly enough to see strokes of alarm painted all over Sunghoon’s face.

At least it’s not disappointment.

“That’s not what I–” 

“It’s okay.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, places both of his hands on Jungwon’s waist–trying to bind him before he escapes, “It’s not what I meant.”

Jungwon doesn’t know if he would like to keep listening to Sunghoon–what’s next? saying that maybe it’s time to wrap this up? Let’s go back to friends? Right when Jungwon comes to accept that he loves Sunghoon more than a friend would–that he is unable to separate anything when it comes to Sunghoon. That if it were for him to stick around like this for as long as he wants to–he would cling, no complaints, no need for more?

Sunghoon is quick to try to to press on the brakes, a fast ‘hey hey hey ’ stopping Jungwon’s from running a mile an hour, “It’s not that–okay it’s not that I am done or don’t want to, I just, not now I–” Sunghoon’s words are slurring, muddled up, his face buried against Jungwon’s black shirt, breath halted. 

Jungwon counts the seconds until Sunghoon speaks, unable to say more himself, “I just…” and Sunghoon clings, clings so differently to every other time when his fingers were trying to leave marks. He clings, like he doesn’t want Jungwon to leave, “I want to be able to kiss you good morning.”

It’s bashful, innocent almost. 

He can’t see the older’s face, but he knows it’s heating up–red all over the place. And Jungwon wonders, if his skin is imitating the same tone. 

“I wanted to wake up, you know,” Sunghoon explains, his words muffling, the tone almost pouty, “Wake up and give you a good morning kiss–that doesn’t lead to anything more–turn around kiss you, sleep some more.” 

Oh, Jungwon’s burning bright crimson now, oh fuck no . And here he thought–

Fuck, no-no-no , now he is the one that most likely looks like he is only about the physical aspect–when he is certain that what they have goes beyond. Now he is the one that looks like he only wants to be with Sunghoon just in this way only. Jungwon is burning red–knees quavering to no end.

Sunghoon lifts his head up slightly, his lips touching Jungwon’s clavicle when he speaks again–on accident, Jungwon’s body still slightly shakes, “Just a kiss, just let me at least have a good morning kiss for once–and then we can go back.”

Jungwon places both of his hands on Sunghoon’s shoulders, making some distance between the two of them–Sunghoon evades his gaze, only muttering, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Just a kiss, Sunghoon said. Just let this be a normal thing, the hopeful side of Jungwon translates. And if it becomes normal, routine–then that would mean that Sunghoon is asking him to…

“I–” it’s a small pause, but then his words shake and tremble some more, erratic, almost out of control, “Breakfast–breakfast hyung, I gotta get going in a while and–classes, classes yeah, let’s make breakfast before it’s late.”

“Won-ah, it’s Saturday you–”

“Breakfast time.”

Jungwon is quick to rip Sunghoon’s hands away from him, to jump away from his lap, stumbling backwards, hitting himself against the wall much to Sunghoon’s alarm.

“I’ll be fine.” he says, even forgetting to go for his slippers at the other side of the bed. Ignoring Sunghoon calling him by his full name, it instead makes him walk backwards, escape.

He knows it is coming across wrong, the moment he walks outside of the room, the moment that he pretends he doesn’t hear Sunghoon as he walks down the hall and past the living room towards the small kitchennete area in the flat.

Jungwon knows how it came off. And even though he thinks he had come to terms with what he felt–being hit with its reflection is still something else entirely.

It makes his feelings all the more real.

And he needs air, water, any element that can ease some calm into his system actually. Because it not only looks like he turned Sunghoon down, it makes him look like he only wanted that–the hook-ups. 

And that’s far from. Totally far from. 

But Jungwon doesn’t get more time to lose his way, because the cold tiles are piercing–its touch is almost icy and it makes him almost stumble forward towards the fridge. Almost, because he is stopped before he is crashing his head against the door handle, an arm wrapped around his waist catches him. 

“Hey, careful,” he hears Sunghoon’s voice close, feels the weight of his chin on top of his own head, “I know you tend to trip but please don’t hurt that cute head of yours.”

Jungwon places both of his hands on the refrigerator’s door, steading himself, feeling Sunghoon letting go of him. Now, how does he face him? How does he say thanks–and sorry–because it’s his fault, if he had ended up having accident it would have been his own fault.

But he makes it simple, “Thank you.”

Sunghoon looms behind him, silence filled with unsaid words.

And Jungwon isn’t sure how to rid of it, but he knows that to his own self at least–his mask is off. Sunghoon has only allowed him to see through some cracks. And it’s been enough to know he feels the same, but Jungwon thinks he’s messed this up.

He has to face Sunghoon, apologize, explain. And he makes himself turn around. Sunghoon though is quick to avoid, crouching in front of him–taking hold of one of Jungwon’s feet, grasp tight on his ankle.

“Your slippers,” Sunghoon says, placing one of them on Jungwon’s foot, “the floor is cold.”

He does that silently too with the other foot as well, staying for a few seconds on his spot–gaze fixed on the ground before he stands up. Lips pressed in a thin line, brows furrowing.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Sunghoon simply nods. Oh, Jungwon has really messed it up–but words will fail him if he tries to speak.

There are cracks, pieces that are shattering in Sunghoon’s usual demeanor–and that leave him looking almost… rejected. His smile is present, weakening every second, but present. It's present as he glances back and forth, Jungwon’s eyes, the gray tiled floor–a hand on the back of his neck, embarrassment having walked in through the door.

Sunghoon looks exactly how Jungwon has felt all this morning and beyond that–reflects precisely what Jungwon feels when he thinks 'what if I lose him? What if I lose even this?'

Teeth dig on Sunghoon’s bottom lip, nervousness, visibly gulping–but he looks at Jungwon again, almost resigned, “You can shower again if you want,” his hyung says, “drop by again if you want too, there’s no problem.”

Jungwon’s mouth is slightly open, trying to process fully now that he is hearing it– yeah, it came across as just wanting to sleep with the older and nothing else. And he's behaving just like Jungwon would–the exact same reasoning. 

As long as you don't leave, we can cling just like this. 

Sunghoon sighs, he smiles, a reassuring one,  “That’s still okay.” but Jungwon isn't sure if he fully believes it, not when he can see uncertainty so evidently surging in Sunghoon’s pupils. Quavering, trembling, he wonders if he says the wrong thing then it could turn into unshed tears.

“I’m okay.”

He’s not. Jungwon isn’t either, he just stands there, the fridge behind him–Sunghoon in front of him. There are escape routes–he doesn’t want to take none.

“Sunghoon-hyung,” Jungwon says, ready to put his own truth on display whole.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon says, interrupting Jungwon’s attempt at saving the conversation, “I know it’s not like–like you and I are… dating. ”

Jungwon lets his own words get lost. And with a nod, he passes the control of the conversation to Sunghoon.

“I know we are not dating,” he says, his lips are dry, Jungwon sees him licking the bottom one, biting on it, Sunghoon’s hands are helplessly fidgeting, “I thought we would–date. I thought that when I asked ‘Do you want us to’ it was…clear.” 

Jungwon blinks at what he hears. That’s not being on the same page at all– this is not a case whether he didn’t know he was dating Sunghoon. He actually didn’t know that Sunghoon had asked him to be his outside those four walls.

“I…wanted you to be with me.”

And realization cascades all over his shoulders, colder than ice-filled water–Sunghoon wanted him. It was beyond a physical need. And Jungwon clung, thinking that it was okay even if it was just something that didn’t have more to it–as long as he didn’t lose Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had been at the same page, even when realizing that this could be love. 

The smitten smiles, the displays of jealousy, the nuzzles right in the morning. The unspoken pact of exclusivity. The hugs that lingered way too long, the hand holding that felt more intimate than before.

For overthinking so much, Jungwon didn’t know he could also be dense.

Sunghoon breathes out, audible, prolonged, “But I wasn’t sure if you felt anything for me so I just left it just like that–” a shake of the head, and towards his own feelings, dismissal, “And it’s okay like this, I mean as long as we are exclusive, if you want, then it’s okay like this–of course until you want to…”

Sunghoon pauses. Jungwon doesn’t want to hear it.

“Until you want to leave.” 

Sunghoon glances at Jungwon, doesn’t move from his spot–as if he was translating Jungwon’s silence to mean something else entirely. As if it meant that space was necessary.

“I just wanted  you to know.” 

Jungwon wants him to know too.

“I don’t.” 

Sunghoon gulps, he nods–and now he is the one that looks at the verge of leaving.

“I understand.”

And because Jungwon’s mind is full of blaring alarms now, he replies, impulsively, irrationally maybe–but just right. Just right that what he actually means is deciphered by the older.

“No–you don’t.”

He only gives Sunghoon the chance to let out a perplexed ‘huh?’ any other word is cut short–totally halted. Because Jungwon’s hands grasp Sunghoon’s shirt, bringing him forward, a silent request to let himself fall. Because Jungwon has fallen, and he is taking Sunghoon with him–and he stands slightly on his toes, capturing Sunghoon’s lips. 

It lingers, tight lipped. It’s soft and it gives Jungwon another sense of bliss.

Sunghoon’s not pressed against him, but he looms over him closer than Jungwon’s ever felt him, arms encasing him. Closer, even closer . And he feels different than when light is not hitting him, he feels like home–he makes Jungwon feel whole. 

It's less than a second when they look into each other’s eyes again--and Jungwon knows. That all of the destinations his mind had taken him to–all of them, go by the name of Park Sunghoon.

His own gaze falters, Sunghoon’s lips, eyes, the myriad of pink scattered across his cheeks. Jungwon takes it all in. And he clings–to Sunghoon’s neck. 

Sunghoon responds in the same way. Clinging, holding him, pulling Jungwon directly into his sphere–hands on his waist, frame touching his. Lips locking–a profound kiss. The intensity of it makes his back hit against the refrigerator’s door–it feels brand new, almost volatile. Fingers digging on his skin, his own getting lost in Sunghoon’s hair, deepening the kiss.

And he likes it like this.

If he’s derailed, he doesn’t really mind how badly he crashes so long as Sunghoon is with him.

The refrigerator’s handle digs on Jungwon’s back and it makes him look backwards for a bit–’ hey’ , Sunghoon lets out, look at me , is what Jungwon deciphers it as. And so Jungwon does, his hands placed on Sunghoon’s face, kissing him non-stop, making both of them walk backwards until they bump against the counter.

And then, It’s almost on instinct, really, or Sunghoon letting himself go.

But the road he trails is by memory–his hands do it by memory when they grab the back of Jungwon’s thighs and lift him, placing him on top of the counter. And it’s also almost engraved in his system, to place his hands on top of Jungwon’s knees, leaning in closely.

Jungwon’s thoughts dissolve, this time, because they only get replaced by only a couple of words–’Sunghoon’ and how he makes him feel this: love. Jungwon is not thinking furthermore because this time, he doesn’t want to–and by reflex, his legs wrap around Sunghoon’s waist, hands back on his neck, thumbs rubbing the side of his jaw.

And it makes Jungwon feel so up high to think that right now, for Sunghoon–he’s the protagonist in his own love story. It’s too early–way too early to feel like this. But it’s natural, proves that it was alright to wish for more than he had been given.

Sunghoon pants against his mouth–and Jungwon thinks he is seeing him for the first time like this all over again, half lidded eyes, kiss swollen lips. 

Yet there’s that added layer, something that morning provides--it gives Jungwon the chance to see adoration, Sunghoon’s feelings displaying all over his visage with utmost fidelity.

Jungwon knows it’s love.

It make him feel like it’s always been love.

There’s a couple of kisses more, languid, slow. Their noses bump, and Jungwon can’t help the smile on his own lips. And he feels Sunghoon smiling too–lips curving into that recognizable fondness he’s always known.

“If you had simply said that you did not want to leave–I would have told you then, maybe let’s go slow.”

Jungwon rolls his eyes at the comment.

“That if you wanted to maybe try, we could go slow.”

“I don’t know how slower we can go when we–”

Sunghoon pokes him on his rib, “Shut up.” he says, a pout accompanying his tone.

“It’s true! How slow do you want us to go when I have slept here more than on my own dorm!”

“Hey–” Sunghoon almost chokes on air, ”not all the times, it hasn’t been all the times–”

Jungwon likes it, to rile Sunghoon enough that he is abashed. He feels he can get used to it quite fast. He just pats his hyung’s shoulder.

“Jungwonie,” Sunghoon says, forehead against Jungwon’s, “so… do you want us to?”

This one time, the question is clear–there’s nothing to second guess, nothing holding him back. No friendship to risk–no bond that could be in danger of being destroyed.

And alongside his heart, Jungwon dives fully this time. Ready to face Sunghoon in broad daylight. 

“Sure, hyung.”