Work Text:
“Seungmin,” Changbin presses his knuckles against his temples to soothe his headache- whether from nicotine withdrawal or his dongsaeng, he’s not sure, “Stop cleaning up my dishes when I’m not done using them,”
Seungmin throws his hands up with an exasperated look.
“How the hell am I supposed to know you’re not done when it’s just sitting on the counter, dirty!” He picks up dishes from the drying rack,”-And abandoned!” Seungmin opens a cabinet, haphazardly stacking them.
“I was gone for- for five minutes! On the damn deck!” Truthfully, he’d been trying for a smoke break before he had remembered Chan confiscated his camels.
“There was no way for me to know that, Hyung!” He slams the cabinet shut with scoff.
Changbin groans, rubbing his hands down his face. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a plate, and Seungmin likes to keep things clean. Everyone’s been going a bit stir crazy since they started living in such close quarters, and Seungmin is no exception- neither is Changbin.
“Just-” Changbin waves a hand through the air dismissively, “Don’t fuckin’- don’t touch my dishes without asking,”
“M’kay?” He tacks on weakly, losing his battle spirit.
Seungmin’s face hardens like he’s going to continue arguing and Changbin sighs internally. They’ve been fighting a lot recently- more than anyone else in the group- butting heads like stubborn rams at any chance they can get. First, it was Changbin accidentally eating Seungmin’s pajeon- and yes, that was his bad- and then it was Seungmin reorganizing the bathroom and making it impossible for Changbin to find his deodorant. Then it was Changbin mixing up their laundry and dyeing some of Seungmin’s shirts pink- then it was Seungmin using all the hot water after dance practice without considering that Changbin hadn’t bathed yet, and then Seungmin telling their leader that Changbin had picked up smoking again. They’ve both become snippy- distant. Even Jisung had brought it up once or twice when he had caught Changbin alone after one of their little brawls. Jisung suggested they fight it out ‘like men’, AKA wrestle in the living room. Changbin did not take Jisung’s advice after that.
Seungmin sighs and turns around to face Changbin, who’s leaning against the counter. His shoulders sag for a moment and he squeezes his eyes shut. Tension sits like a thick fog through the room, putting some kind of polarity in the air that keeps Changbin and Seungmin as far from each other as possible in ways more than physical. The pregnant silence is cut through by the white noise of the dormitory, but still lingers and sours like the scent of sulfur. With a deep sigh, Seungmin opens his arms like he’s about to do a trust fall into the kitchen sink, huffing out a breath with a begrudged expression. Changbin blinks at him dumbly.
“Seungmin,”
Seungmin hums dubiously in response, staring at his socked feet, arms spread wide- like a hung chicken.
“What are you doing?”
Seungmin’s mouth draws into a tense line as he opens his arms a little wider and flails his hands weakly- beckoningly. It’s a stilted and clunky movement; Changbin narrows his eyes suspiciously. Seungmin fidgets in place, his poker-face slipping under the red tinge of his ears. Seungmin opens his mouth a few times, likely mapping out exactly what he wants to say, as usual.
“Chan-hyung says that we need to stop fighting because it’s annoying the other members,” He grumbles, “From my research, hugging and talking about our feelings is the best way to de-escalate an altercation,”
Seungmin grimaces, his braces peaking out from under his pink lips. Even he can hear how stilted that sounded.
“I- Seungmin, what?” Changbin scoffs, Seungmin’s eyes flitting back up to meet him. His feet shuffle against the floor, arms still spread open.
Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow in determination and he stalks towards Changbin, looking like a damn hawk with his arms sticking out. Changbin tenses, looking around and contemplating how to react to any of this before Seungmin’s skinny arms wrap around his neck. In an instant, Changbin is warm. So warm. But the hug isn’t great- hell, it’s not even good, and feels more like a dramatic performance than genuine human touch. Seungmin’s arms are wrapped loosely around Changbin, his jaw pressed to his hyung’s ear, and Changbin can feel the thud-thud-thudding of Seungmin’s hummingbird heart. It’s silent, and fuck it’s awkward. Seungmin, for god knows what reason, cards his fingers through Changbin’s short brown hair. His nails are a little long and catch on Changbin’s bed head. They both wince, for different reasons. It’s really, really quiet.
“How are you feeling?” Seungmin asks. His tone is dry, droning like a doctor.
Changbin is sure they don’t paint a pleasant picture- his arms are trapped down by his side, Changbin’s lanky namdonsaeng, all stilted and baby giraffe-esque, circling his arms around Changbin’s dense body without actually touching him all that much.
“I feel trapped,”
Seungmin pouts, and the counter edge starts digging into Changbin’s lower back.
“Chan-Hyung said this would make you feel soothed,” His eyebrows press together, pout deepening like he’s genuinely confused.
“It would, if you were any good at giving hugs,” Changbin looks up at him, deadpan. Seungmin smacks his shoulder.
“My hugs are great!”
“Not right now, they aren’t”
Seungmin hugs tighter, and something flutters through Changbin’s stomach. Something akin to discomfort, but not as uncomfortable or unpleasant. Seungmin’s face is nestled into his hair, his back arching and pressing his belly against Changbin’s as he lets out a frustrated noise. The kitchen’s silence is filled with the bubbling of water in the tea kettle and Seungmin’s quick, soft breaths.
“How about now?”
What the fuck?
Seungmin clings tighter, and Changbin is definitely bewildered now.
“How are you feeling?” Seungmin repeats, before tacking on: “Emotionally.”
His voice is delicate and slightly muffled in Changbin’s hair.
Changbin stares into the soft baby pink sleep shirt that covers Seungmin’s chest- a victim of the laundry mishap. He doesn’t respond because what the fuck?
“Hyung, I’m back!” Jisung calls from the living room, the slam of the front door sounding out moments later, “Have you started dinner y- Oh!”
Jisung’s head had popped around the corner, at least from what Changbin could see around Seungmin’s slender shoulders. The rest of Jisung’s form shrinks into the doorway, slightly unsure, shifting his weight between his feet.
“Am I interrupting something, or…?” He looks between the two, fiddling with his fingers.
Seungmin shoves Changbin away, eyes comically wide as he sprints to the other side of the kitchen. He swipes his cup of tea and shuts a cabinet at record speed before scurrying out the other doorway and into the hallway. Changbin just stares after him, because What the fuck? A quiet swear word is heard before Seungmin’s door slams shut- probably Seungmin spilling hot tea on himself. Again. Hasty brat.
Jisung just looks between Changbin and the doorway, eyes wide and questioning, his mouth formed in a little ‘o’ like he’s unsure whether he should’ve seen what he just saw. Changbin grumbles to himself, shuddering and rubbing at his shoulders like he’s sanitizing himself after such an interaction.
“Dinner is gonna be done in an hour,” He says, before turning on the stove and starting to cook.
Following their squabble, Seungmin and Changbin didn’t interact much anymore.
When they had first met during their trainee days, Seungmin and Changbin were not enemies. They weren’t best friends, either- they mostly coexisted; In the same space, but not necessarily together. Then, they’d hit that rough patch where everything Seungmin did was irritating. Like Seungmin was out to get him, he was around every corner with a little comment about his voice, his form, asking for advice, for guidance in that dry tone, sarcastic and sneering. Any direct contact between the two resulted in an inevitable spit fire, sometimes bad enough that Chan would have to get involved so everyone made it out alive. Changbin was petty; he can admit that openly. He didn’t fight very often, but when he did, he fought dirty. He likes to think that he’s grown since then, though. After months of fighting, the sizzling embers of their growing mutual disdain slowly fizzled out. It was gradual, but not unwelcome. It was like a big, stale breath had been released from the dorm- and Changbin hadn’t realized up until that point how much his and Seungmin’s squabbles affect everyone. His nicotine withdrawals had finally calmed down a bit as well, and definitely made him act a bit more agreeable on the day-to-day.
Now they’re back to the first stage; Simple coexistence. Changbin would be lying if he said that he desperately wanted to finally shake hands with his namdongsaeng- extend an olive branch, even. He’s content just going about his life, living with his best friends and one… other. It’s rude to think of one of your own members that way- like he’s different, like he’s abnormal, he’s an “other”, but Changbin knows that at the end of the day, if Seungmin doesn’t know about it, it doesn’t really matter. Seungmin likely feels the same, anyway.
Changbin taps away at his phone idly. Instagram offers him a feedback loop of workout videos that make him feel guilty for not being 6 '10 and 300 lbs of muscle, so he exits out of it. Twitter is no better- it was optimistic to check it in the first place. Changbin releases a deep sigh; It’s a group night off, and here he is, sitting at the kitchen table sifting through his phone. There’s chatter coming from the living room, Jisung ranting about smash bros or something, with occasional hummed responses, mid-toned and light like Minho’s voice. Felix is there too- so is Chan, but they’re basically dead to the world, passed out on one of the old couches. Changbin remembers seeing them there earlier in the evening and holding back the urge to coo. Changbin eventually gives up on his search for meaning from his phone, tucking it into his pocket and retreating to the cozy- albeit, messy- living room. As suspected, Jisung is sitting on the floor, tucked under a blanket and watching cat videos over Minho’s shoulder. Chan and Felix are still asleep.
Changbin sighs and flops face down on the non-inhabited couch, wriggling until he finds a comfortable position. His eyes flutter shut, tension leaving his shoulders. The world feels soft and warm on nights like these, he thinks to himself. The quiet white noise of his dorm-mates, the whirring of the heater in the background.
Changbin is drifting between sleep and wake when Seungmin pads into the living room, swimming in an old sleep shirt, feet tucked in fuzzy socks and hair mussed like he’s just woken from a nap. His eyes are rimmed with pink, and Changbin notes that he always thought it was makeup, but maybe that’s just how he looks. He’s speaking all of a sudden, and Changbin would tune in if he wasn’t unbelievably comfortable and warm, and so sleepy. Minho and Jisung stand from their spots on the floor, and at some point Chan and Felix had woken up as well, all of them shuffling towards the hallway that housed their rooms. Changbin can swear he sees Seungmin’s poker face falter, falling into a meek, sad expression, but it’s gone before it really arrives. Seungmin nods at whatever Felix has to say, offering a hug goodnight. Everyone else leaves, and Changbin realizes that they’ve been left alone together. When was the last time that happened?
Seungmin looks unsure, eyes flitting between Changbin, then the TV, then Changbin again. Changbin has already begun to sit up a bit, wiping the drool off his cheek when Seungmin pads up to him like a soft footed puppy. Changbin would be endeared if it wasn’t Seungmin, but some part of him feels warm at the sight regardless. He’s not even fully upright when Seungmin stops in front of him, holding a blanket. Like a toddler. Jesus Christ.
“Hyung?”
Changbin hums in response, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The world feels a bit like jello- thick. Jiggly?
He waits for Seungmin to continue, before looking up at his dongsaeng when he doesn’t go on. Seungmin’s face is a little scrunched up- a little sleepy, a little soft, a little less stoney than usual. Maybe even a little sad.
“Hyung,” Seungmin rubs his thumb over the blanket he’s holding, “Do you, um. Everyone else wants to go to bed and- Do you want to watch a movie?”
“With me?” He tacks on, with a shaky breath.
Changbin takes a moment to process, but seemingly forgets to do it silently.
“Huh?” He says eloquently.
Seungmin looks about ready to sprint back to his bedroom.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, I know you worked hard at practice yesterday,” His face falls a little, a stupefying contrast to his usually stoney disposition. “It’s just…
Everyone else already went to bed, or is busy, or,” He trails off, and something inside of Changbin twists and stirs like nausea at his soft tone. Seungmin shifts back and forth on his feet, fiddling with the edge of the blanket.
Changbin just stares up at him like an idiot.
“I’m just gonna…” Seungmin pivots away from him.
“Wait.” Changbin croaks, voice laced with sleep, “No, stay. I’ll- uh. I’ll watch something with you, yeah,”
Seungmin almost looks relieved, settling in next to his hyung with a few feet of space between them. It’s quiet as they sift through netflix, and Changbin would feel awkward if he wasn’t so sleepy. Seungmin fidgets a little, hands on his knees and straight-backed, and Changbin snorts at how stiff he is. He turns his eyes back to the screen, sorting through the film category.
“Hyung,” Seungmin says.
Changbin hums in response.
“Can we watch a horror movie?” His eyes are a little brighter, sparkling with hope.
Changbin grimaces. He’s not good with horror- but Seungmin looked so sad after being rejected by everyone.
“Sure,”
Seungmin picks something truly unsettling, not just a regular slasher film, and Changbin already regrets his decision to agree to this. At some point Seungmin had criss-crossed his legs on the couch, leaning in intently like he’s trying to drink in every subtle shift of the scene on the TV. Changbin’s white knuckling the arm rest, tense and uncomfortable with each passing minute. He yelps at a particularly grotesque shot, and can feel Seungmin look over at him. His cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He’s a grown man- he should be able to watch a simple horror movie. The squish of the old couch isn’t quite as comforting in the cold air of the living room, the sound of screaming coming from the TV. His face is buried in his hands without him realizing it- until Seungmin is wrapping a few delicate fingers around his wrist and pulling them down slowly. The movie keeps playing in the background, the lanky body next to him moving just a little closer.
“...Hyung?” His voice is soft, like he’s speaking to a spooked animal. “We don’t have to continue you watching, if you don’t want to,”
And Changbin really doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want to be lame and leave one of the youngest members of the group to watch a horror movie, all alone, on their day off, like some pitiful abandoned puppy. So Changbin shakes his head and tilts a little closer to Seungmin from the dip of the couch. It’s a little unsettling- seeing such an alien side of Seungmin- seeing so much care in that pretty and emotionless little face of his. Changbin wonders if the anonymity between the pair was a little less mutual than he thought, but that line of thought is a little too guilt-inducing to follow. Seungmin’s eyes flick between him and the screen every few seconds, wide and starry. Something like nausea twists in Changbin, and the white noise of the movie isn’t saging the room enough for Changbin to not feel the awkward tension.
“It’s okay!” Changbin lets out a breathy laugh, mustering up a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, Hyung just isn’t- uh. Hyung isn’t very good with horror, but we should keep watching,”
“Okay,”
Seungmin nods softly, but his eyes are still searching for something, locking on his hyung for a moment and then the TV, and then Changbin, and then the TV, where it finally settles. Changbin lets out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and holding his elbows tightly, rubbing over the skin. Seungmin zones back into the movie once more and Changbin roosts on his side of the couch. Time ticks by slowly and Changbin is not enraptured by the film like his dongsaeng seems to be. It’s getting later, the delicate weight of his eyelids growing heavier over his eyes. The woman on the screen seems to be walking around a dark house- Changbin unknowing and uncaring of whether it’s her’s or not- and it takes every ounce of pride in his 5’6 body to not screech when she rounds the corner and is met face to face with the spirit of the property. Changbin just tenses in place, letting out a heavy puff of breath of surprise. Fucking jumpscares. Seungmin is almost entirely forgotten on the other side of the couch, before Changbin hears shifting- and fuzzy-socked feet press against his outer thigh.
“Hyung,”
Changbin hums in response, soft and unwilling to look at Seungmin’s expression- probably open and sleepy and vulnerable in the way that makes him feel sick to his stomach.
“Hyung, my feet are cold,” He says, softer this time. He’s barely audible over the film audio.
“You’re wearing socks, how are your feet cold?” Changbin still doesn’t look over at him. Seungmin is silent for a moment.
“They just are, Hyung,” He whines softly, like he’s tired- like he knows Changbin knows what he’s asking for.
Changbin feels his stubbornness steel within him. He’s not gonna let Seungmin win in this obvious attempt to rile him up- so he looks over at the youngest, meeting his wide eyes. Seungmin fidgets in place.
“Changbin Hyung?”
Changbin hums again, raising a brow. He looks hard for any signs of mischief in Seungmin’s open expression, but knows Seungmin wouldn’t ever let something he didn’t want to be seen slip. If he was planning something, Changbin wouldn’t be able to see it. The tips of his ears are pink, and he’s playing with the hem of his cotton sleep shorts. Does he usually do that when he’s lying? Changbin will have to pay more attention in the future.
“Since my- um. Can I put my feet on your, um,” Seungmin looks at the wall, blinking rapidly before looking back at his hyung, “Can I put my feet on your lap?”
Changbin blinks at him.
“Huh?” He says, intelligently.
Seungmin just keeps looking at him with those eyes, wide and starry- utterly unsettling on Seungmin- on the second youngest of the group, one of ‘the brains”, the quiet, logical, “kind” ones that made Changbin’s life a living hell for a solid 6 months. Who has now asked if his hyung could warm him up. It’s a normal request- Changbin wouldn’t hesitate with Felix, with Jeongin, hell, even Hyunjin- but Seungmin? He shrinks into himself at the thought, and that fact alone makes him deflate in shame. What kind of mentor is he? Picking favorites, picking fights all because what- Seungmin was too clean? Sure he’s a bit of a dick, but he’s like 21, and every 21 year old is a dick. Changbin’s brain continues to slip down its rabbit hole as Seungmin waves a hand in front of his face.
“Uh- Hyung?”
Changbin snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before deciding that it doesn’t matter- the worst that could happen is a heel to the balls- which is pretty bad, but unlikely due to Seungmin’s preference in psychological torture over physical.
“Yeah, you can- That’s fine. You can put your feet on- yeah.” He says eloquently.
Seungmin lets out a breathy little exhale before slotting his slender legs over Changbin’s thighs. They’re bare and shaven- per management’s request- but it’s still an odd look, in Changbin’s humble opinion, and probably not very temperature effective. Seungmin’s pressed infinitely closer against Changbin with the shuffle, finally settling down a bit as Changbin unconsciously places a hand over one of his pale ankles. If Seungmin is cold, he might as well try to fix that, Changbin rationalizes, rubbing his other hand up and down one of the smooth shins. Seungmin shifts in his peripheral, like a soft shudder, before scrunching up his knees so that his torso is pulled slightly closer. Is he that cold? It’s winter, sure, but it was colder last week and Seungmin didn’t complain. Changbin squints at him suspiciously, still a little hung up on the idea that this is something part of a big plan devised to rid him of whatever pride he has left.
As the movie is nearing its end, Changbin realizes he had rested an elbow on one of Seungmin’s bent knees, settling his head on it as they inched closer throughout the night. Whatever plan Seungmin had in store probably wasn’t going to happen tonight- going off of the way Seungmin’s head would tilt off every couple of minutes like a sleepy puppy. Changbin fought off the endearment with an iron sword, reminding himself that he was to Seungmin, at worst, a foe, and at best, a slightly sentient heat source. The air of the living room has turned slightly warm, filled with the white noise of the TV and the delicate inhale-exhale of Seungmin’s breathing.
By the time credits are rolling, nearly the entire lower half of Seungmin’s body is sitting in Changbin’s lap, his thighs and knees and ankles and fuzzy-socked feet tucked up nicely against Changbin’s chest- wrapped up tight within a warm, muscular arm. Seungmin’s snores are soft. The white noise of the TV had already departed, leaving Changbin alone in the room to face the almost-maknae. His skin is unfairly cold for how much heat is pumping through the dorm- but he looks content as ever, cheek squished against the couch cushion right next to Changbin’s shoulder, his soft puffs of breath warming the cuff of his hyung’s shirt. Seungmin never fully migrated into his lap, only his legs, which Changbin is eventually grateful for.
He’s able to gently wake the youngest- trying to not startle the man, because just because they don’t get along doesn’t mean Changbin is going to be an ass for absolutely no reason.
Seungmin wakes slowly, blinking soft, sluggish blinks and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His mouth parts slightly, a little bit of drool dried on his pink cheek, and Changbin wants to look away- feels like this isn’t something he should see- like it isn’t his right. Seungmin mutters something vaguely like Changbin’s name, lethargic and barely there, before Changbin unwraps his arm from the youngest’s legs and begins to move them back into Seungmin’s personal space bubble. Changbin makes what can hardly be called conversation, just trying to get Seungmin off the couch so he doesn’t have a sore back for practice tomorrow.
“Come on, Seungmin. Can’t stay on the couch forever,” Changbin moves Seungmin’s knees to the floor, and yeah, Seungmin could probably do that himself, but he has decidedly chosen not to, opting to flop back and whine sleepily.
Seungmin gives up the fight eventually, standing and rising above Changbin as he usually does, and Changbin realizes that he’d forgotten how tall Seungmin is. He makes himself so small when he sits. Seungmin reaches his arms up in a big stretch, shirt riding up and showing off the soft trail of dark hair on his belly. His mouth opens in a yawn, big and plodding like a drowsy dog as he relaxes his arm and ambles in the direction of their rooms. Changbin watches silently, making sure he doesn’t trip and die. Seungmin stops in front of his door, rubbing his eyes and looking back at Changbin sleepily.
“Nigh’ Hyung. Thanks for the movie,” He waves a hand lazily before slipping into his room.
The shift in their dynamic is a fire alarm- a cop car blaring in his ear, or a horn, and Something twists in Changbin’s gut again. Maybe guilt, maybe shame, maybe fear, something unknown. Something a little unplaceable- precarious and unpackable- and Changbin just shoves it back down. It’s not a good feeling, anyway, so he decides he doesn’t miss it.
The next time Changbin gets to see Seungmin quite so sleepy is several months later.
Changbin is taking out his mouth guards, shuddering in disgust at the slimy detaching of the plastic as he wanders through the dim dorm hallway. The sun dapples the carpet and walls of the living room, a little whisper of spring on the tongue of the early morning blue skies, and sending refractory light into the long, cramped hallway. Changbin rubbed some spit off his cheek. There are soft voices and sizzling coming from the kitchen, a gentle reminder of how much everyone in the group had settled into each other.
Changbin rubs at his heavy eyes, skin feeling dry like it always does in the morning as he shuffles into the bathroom. There are shorts and towels on the ground and different members’ skin care regimens mixing together on the counter- a blow dryer hanging on one wall, a print out of Brad Pitt on another- for god knows what reason. Posed like the juxtaposing center of a renaissance painting- the apex of a fibonacci spiral, Seungmin leans lazily against the only tidy section of the countertop with a blue toothbrush shoved in his cheek. He blinks sluggishly at the ground, his left hand twisted at an odd angle, his right wrapped in a neon pink wrist cast and resting on the counter. His toothbrush slips out of his hand- likely not for the first time- and he lets out a frustrated huff. Changbin takes a few steps in, stretching his arms behind his head and letting out a big yawn. He sifts around in a drawer for his toothpaste- and his hairbrush, deodorant, his cologne, his dental floss and maybe even his eyedrops- look, it’s a mess in here, and he can’t find anything, but it’s not his fault. Changbin lets out a tired whine, voice crackling from misuse.
“Seungmin- have you seen my… anything ?”
Seungmin grunts, his round lips clasped around his toothbrush. Changbin looks over at him, and Seungmin leans over, nodding his head pointedly and gesturing to his toothbrush. Changbin gets the message, holding the handle so Seungmin can pull his mouth away without using his hands. He does just that, a pink tongue darting out for only a millisecond to catch some stray toothpaste on his lip. A little string of spit connects his pink lower lip to the toothbrush, wiped away with his sweatshirt sleeve. Changbin looks at him expectantly.
“Have you tried cleaning? Might be able to find your shit if you don’t have it scattered everywhere,” Seungmin says around a mouthful of toothpaste, bending over and spitting it into the sink. His voice is low and raspy with lethargy, just like Changbin’s.
“Yah- don’t be rude!” Changbin scowls, turning on the faucet to wash Seungmin’s toothpaste down the drain, “Which of us has your toothbrush hostage?”
Seungmin leans up with a petulant look, brows furrowed, eyes rimmed with a sleepy pink, mouth forming a pout. It’s almost painfully reminiscent of their old squabbles- but so loose, so comfortable and lazy in a way Changbin is struggling to get used to. He’s not sure if he likes the warmth that sits under every interaction.
“Hyung,”
Changbion swallows. He hums, lilting it like a question and raising his eyebrows for effect.
Seungmin looks down at his hands, then back up at Changbin. His skin is still flushed from the warmth of sleep, slightly pink.
“Changbin Hyung, let’s make a deal,”
Changbin narrows his eyes, leaning his hip against the sink and crossing his arms, baby blue toothbrush still in hand, like a threat. Seungmin shuts off the faucet.
“I don’t like the sound of this,”
Seungmin rolls his eyes and speaks before he can get scolded for it.
"Relax- I'm not gonna make you do anything crazy," Seungmin holds up his casted wrist, "I can't really brush my teeth well. I'll help you find your stuff- it's in here," he gestures vaguely, "Somewhere."
Changbin doesn't understand, his face showing as much.
"I- What?"
Seungmin sighs like Changbin isn't getting the most obvious thing in the world, braces peaking out from behind his lips.
"Hyung, I need you to brush my teeth for me- My braces and the whole sprained wrist thing aren't going well together and…" Seungmin sighs, "I'll help find your stuff in this mess,"
Changbin just stares at him for a moment. His brain is sleep-addled, slow moving like molasses and drowsy from his recent waking- and now he’s being asked to brush Seungmin’s teeth? He huffs softly. Really, what's the harm? Brushing teeth isn't hard, and he'll get help finding his things. There's no reason not to.
But.
Something in Changbin really dislikes the idea, an awful fluttering feeling settling in his belly at the thought of getting that close- hands-on-face-fingers-in-mouth kind of close. But Seungmin looks genuinely frustrated, and Changbin is a wonderful hyung, so he relents.
"Yeah, yeah, alright," Changbin sighs and Seungmin cheers, shuffling closer and pushing products to the edge of the counter so he can push himself up.
Seungmin swings his legs back and forth, hands in his lap. Unlike the last time he’d bore witness to such a sleepy Seungmin, he’s wearing full length sweats this time, thick and warm and tucked into another pair of fuzzy socks, which are tucked into a pair of gray bunny slippers. They kick idly in tandem with Seungmin’s legs.Changbin smacks his knee lightly, settling between his spread thighs.
"Stop kicking, you'll strain your knee next, knowing your track record,"
Seungmin scowls, "Hey!"
Changbin tuts softly and wraps his hand around Seungmin’s jaw, fitting it comfortably in his palm. Seungmin tries to continue, but Changbin cuts him off. The grain of Seungmin’s jaw muscle shifts slightly against his palm.
"Open," He says, firm but not abrasive.
Seungmin does immediately, lips falling open to show his nicely lined teeth and pink tongue. He's looking up, seemingly fascinated by the ceiling and definitely not avoiding eye contact. Changbin doesn't blame him. Changbin presses the toothbrush between his lips and turns Seungmin back and forth with ease, feeling him pliant in his grip. It's probably easier that way, he rationalizes. The soft sounds of the brushing lets Changbin’s mind wander, going quiet and focused. He makes sure to get over every spot, taking his sweet time as he goes over Seungmin's molars first. Changbin can't think of a single time he's ever been this close to someone in a casual sense, let alone this close to Seungmin . Changbin thumbs over Seungmin's pink lower lip to get better access to his bottom teeth. Seungmin’s breath is warm and minty on Changbin's fingers- shallow but relaxed, a bit like a kitten, he reckons. Seungmin starts kicking his legs again, eyes flitting around the room wildly, a thumb that isn't his own pressing on his lip and a toothbrush in his mouth. Changbin sighs, releasing his lip for the sake of smacking his thigh to get him to stop. Seungmin makes an aborted yelp, something high and a little embarrassing, but Changbin speaks too soon to properly address it.
"Yah! stop bouncing your leg, it's shaking the counter"
"No, it's not" He's muffled around the toothbrush and frowning.
"Fine, it's shaking me, which is worse ," Changbin huffs, "Now keep your mouth open so Hyung can finish in your mouth,"
Seungmin sucks in a breath, avoiding eye contact again, and Changbin doesn't want to unpack why. He settles down eventually, eyes going a little unfocused as he lets his face be manhandled back and forth. Changbin keeps his eyes focused on Seungmin’s mouth, getting each corner as clean as he can- but they begin to wander slowly. Seungmin begins to drift off, lulled by the quietness of the bathroom, the warmth of the sun through the window, the rhythm of Changbin’s brushing. Changbin’s mouth twitches momentarily, risking a smile, risking a glance at the bliss on Seungmin’s face. The air is warm around them in the lived-in bathroom, and Changbin can’t help but think that maybe- just maybe, he could feel okay with being close with this younger member. Close like Jisung napping on Changbin in the van, muscles tight and tired with post-practice exhaustion. Close like Chan mumbling sleepy commands, dragging unfinished tracks around in their production software while Changbin is tucked into his side, far past the wee hours of the day.
Close like brushing Seungmin’s teeth in the morning, when his wrist is sprained, when the morning sun is too warm to stay awake in, when he was just looking for a reason to be with his hyung for a little while.
Changbin realizes, dazedly, that he’s finished. He removes the toothbrush from Seungmin’s mouth, feeling the youngest look down at him, drowsy from the light. He washes it in the sink, leaning around Seungmin and keeping him steady with a hand on the knee, before turning back to finally address his dongsaeng. The atmosphere had long gone tranquil; a low hum, like the gentle buzz of a bedside lamp in the deep evening. Seungmin has toothpaste smeared on his lip and cheek. His eyes are still lined with pink- Changbin is still surprised that it isn’t makeup. Changbin gently rubs a hand towel over Seungmin’s cheek, still quiet as he cleans up his handiwork. It feels sacrilegious to speak- to break such a content silence.
“All done, Min-ah,” Changbin says, far softer than he initially planned, nearing a whisper.
Seungmin blinks at him sluggishly and nods, rubbing his eye with a loose fist and fighting a yawn. Something warm clenches in Changbin’s stomach, but he doesn’t will it away, this time. He watches with tender intrigue, delicately tracing the line between staring and gathering data. Slender fingers widdle their way to the hem of Changbin’s shirt, holding it tight, but flighty and ready to retreat at any moment. Changbin watches as Seungmin stares at his hands clenching the hem of his hyung’s top. Changbin finally, finally- finally lets a timid smile tug at the edges of his lips.
“Seungmin-ah, don’t tell me you were dozing off,” Changbin snickers, light and fluffy like a cotton ball. Seungmin groans in shame.
Changbin raises a hand, hesitating, before dropping it to his side and stepping back from the sink so Seungmin has room to dismount. Seungmin seems to wake fully, letting out a weak snicker.
“What?”
“Hyung, your hair looks so awful,”
Changbin yells, raising his arm to bluff a hit, Seungmin screeching in terror and laughing his way out of the bathroom. Changbin thrusts his torso through the doorway, yelling down the hall.
“You’re cleaning the bathroom today, just for that!”
He hears a distant cackle.
“You say that like I don’t clean it anyways!”
Changbin is about to yell back when a very, very groggy Chan opens his bedroom door, brow heavy and exhausted, but his lips pulled into a very faint, dimpled smile.
“Both of you, shut up!” The door closes gently, because Chan would never slam a door, and Seungmin pokes his head back into the view of the hallway curiously.
Changbin glares at him threateningly, Seungmin scurrying away with a yelp. When he’s sure he’s alone, Changbin lets the scowl drop. He glances back at the only clean section of the bathroom counter, a dog-ear hair band and some moisturizer sitting neatly. The morning light has shifted away from the counter, landing tenderly on Changbin’s chest. He smiles something a little new- a little uncomfortably fresh for him. Something fond.
~
If Changbin is one thing and one thing only, he’s dedicated; A dedicated worker, a dedicated Idol, a dedicated hyung. He tries his best to provide for all needs that should be met- it’s why he and Chan get along so well, but the similarities don’t end there. Changbin knew that management had been hounding Chan- that he hadn’t been producing enough, that the boys were looking sloppy, that their album concepts were boring- and Chan had stopped sleeping. Changbin knew the cycle when he saw it. He could smell that deep stench of a workaholic insomniac and decided right then that enough is enough.
Changbin runs a hand through his hair, releasing a deep held, smoggy breath into the chilled evening air. It’s well past 2, maybe 3- flirting with 4, if Changbin could read the light of the horizon right, and the nipping cold of the air doesn’t keep his palms and fingers from clamming around the butt of a half smoked cigarette. He doesn’t like to smoke- doesn’t know why he started in the first place, but sometimes he just needs it, and recently that’s been well past 2, maybe 3, flirting with 4 on the balcony off his members’ dorm, every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s an awful habit. He smells gross. It tastes gross. It’s all quite gross, if he thinks about it, but sometimes, Changbin rationalizes, when you bite off more than you can chew, you’re allowed to take something for yourself. Be a little selfish; Because Chan deserved rest for once, and Changbin desperately wants to give that to him; Because though they’re so painfully similar, Changbin knows that sometimes he’s willing to sacrifice a few weeks of health for the sake of his hyung.
So here he is: ‘Honorary Leader Seo Changbin’ for this comeback and this comeback only, emptying a pack of camels on a balcony at 4 in the fucking morning. He doesn't feel like being poetic- doesn't feel like musing on how Seoul doesn't feel like home and hasn't for a long while. On how the idol industry is sucking his passion dry and leaving him barren and smoking a cheap cigarette on a cheap balcony in a cheap hoodie at 4 in the morning. He takes in another shuddering drag, thinking back to being at home. Being at school. His mother, his father. His friends. It’s all worth it- it’s just a rough patch and he knows it, it’s always worth it to know that Chan and the rest aren’t working themselves to death. But sometimes Changbin wonders what life would have been like if he had stuck to school- gone to a nice university- married a nice woman.
The fantasy sits idly on his shoulders, weighty and whispering, flitting through his mind occasionally just to be shoved away into some deep corner with the other things he can't stomach thinking about.
Changbin hasn’t slept in 3 days and 4 hours. All nighters in the studio, all nighters in the production rooms, all nighters in his dorm room with his head between his knees. He knows he’s working himself into the grave but it’s a little difficult to convince yourself to sleep when you know that any work you put off is put on the backs of your best friends. Changbin sighs and pitches forward, elbows resting on the metal grate of the balcony rail. It’s stinging and cold but remedies the suffocating heat of exhaustion within him. He smudges the end of his smoke into the ashtray precariously balancing next to him, put out on the pile of corpses of older cigarettes.
Like a nightly ritual, he dumps the stale ash off the balcony and deposits the ashtray on the glass coffee table, grabbing his discarded sweatshirt and making his way back inside.
Changbin must smell like shit- smoke and dried sweat from dance practice, but he can’t bring himself to go shower as he winds his way through the living room, half-submerged in his sweatshirt. Suddenly, Changbin’s shin slams into something, letting out a loud thud to accompany his cursing as he crumples to the floor to grab his leg. His head finally pops through the neck of the hoodie, eyes adjusting to the deep darkness of the dorm as he clutches at his throbbing shin. The coffee table in front of him seems to be the perpetrator- and Changbin is about to get up and shamble back to his room when a door softly shuts in the distance of the hallway. A yawn and then a voice, so soft and sleepy.
“Hyung?” Seungmin is rubbing his eyes like a toddler, and Changbin lets out a full bodied sigh.
“I’m okay, Min-ah, I just ran into the coffee table, is all,”
“What are you doing up so late?” Seungmin shuffles over, helping Changbin off the ground. They’re the same height with Seungmin’s sleepy slouch. His hair is mussed from his pillow and Changbin smooths it down, cool fingers running over the gentle warmth of Seungmin’s scalp.
“Grown up stuff,”
Seungmin snorts and turns his sleepy eyes to Changbin’s.
“I’m a grown up, Hyung,”
Changbin smiles warmly, hand still resting on Seungmin’s head before sliding down over his bedhead. Seungmin takes the lul in conversation to yawn again, and Changbin fights the urge to get sleepy with him, but his shin is still throbbing idly. Seungmin keeps talking.
“You smell like cigarettes again, Bin,” He mumbles, sniffling softly like it irritates his nose. Changbin frowns. “Y’said you’re… that you are trying to kick it- awhile ago, right? That was so long ago,”
He doesn’t sound disappointed- not quite. Soft. Too sleepy to really be disappointed in Changbin’s relapse. Just a little confused. Changbin’s chest aches with guilt, hot and prickling as he looks at his younger companion. He aches .
“I know, I know, Min-ie,” He sighs, “I know. Let’s get you back to bed. ‘S late,”
“No,”
Changbin stares at him for a moment, blinking dumbly. Seungmin looks at him with a hardened expression- although soft around the edges. Seungmin’s brow sinks like it’s heavy- nearly grumpy looking.
Seungmin presses himself into Changbin’s chest, arms raised to wrap around his waist. Changbin is almost shocked when he remembers- this is how they are now. No tense fights, or awkward requests for physical affection. This is something he allows. This is something he’s allowed to allow. Seungmin’s ability to make himself small never ceases to amaze Changbin; He tucks himself into the ashy sweatshirt like he belongs there, nestled into the heather gray fabric and taking in a deep breath. Changbin looks down at the head of messy hair on his chest. The arms around him squeeze a little tighter, and Seungmin mumbles.
“Hug me back, Hyung,” It’s a command, although gentle.
When was the last time they had even hugged? When was the last time he hugged anyone ? Changbin wraps his arms around Seungmin’s fluffy head, letting out a deep, smokey breath. The air of the living room is slightly stale. Changbin must smell sour, the dance practice and cigarette smoking still soaking in his skin, but Seungmin says nothing of it. The soft light of skyscrapers twinkle through the windows.
Seungmin’s voice is husky, but he’s not sleepy. Not anymore.
“Changbin,” He drops the honorifics, making his hyung look away in guilt,”You know you have to quit. You know the risks- not even necessarily the long term ones.”
Changbin is nodding, staring down at Seungmin’s hair, knowing he’s right but too achey to respond, feeling too shameful- too seen. Seungmin nuzzles his face into the wide expanse of Changbin’s chest.
“Hug me tighter, Hyung,”
It’s mumbled and Seungmin’s ears pink with embarrassment, but something in Changbin surges. Drops and rises like the heading of pressure behind a tectonic plate- building and building till it breaks, sliding out and under and sending him tumbling. His hands shake with the realization- the raw feeling inside of him. Changbin blinks rapidly, desperately swallowing the lump in his throat. Seungmin hadn’t even said anything- what’s he getting all emotional about? He does as he’s told and hugs Seungmin tighter. It’s more of a comfort to Seungmin than anyone else, and Changbin’s insides twist and twist and twist until every feeling inside him is loose and pliant and sugary like taffy. Changbin looks down at the disheveled man tucked into his chest, and heaves a heavy breath.
The pain in his shin is long forgotten, and Seungmin rubs his nose back and forth against Changbin's chest, so drowsy and warm and soft in his arms. Changbin’s whole body stutters as he buries his fingers in the hair at the nape of Seungmin's neck, combing through the soft tufts. It's like his dongsaeng is sucking the fight out of him, Changbin nearly shuddering in exhaustion as something like tiredness finally starts to seep into him. Seungmin tilts his head up, eyes round and kind in the darkness as he reaches up and wipes a stray tear from Changbin's cheek. Changbin sniffles, trying not to look too shocked by the presence of his own tears.
"Hyung is sorry," He whispers.
Seungmin smiles up at him, before leaning up and pressing their cheeks together. Seungmin's skin is so, so warm, and sinks into Changbin's soul. He lets out a shuddering breath. They stay like that, cheek to cheek in the dark. Their feelings sit heavy in the air, but remain unspoken- at least for now. Changbin feels the sleepy smile of Seungmin’s mouth on his cheek, and he squeezes him just a bit tighter.
Although they eventually shuffle to bed, Changbin thinks for the first time in many weeks that maybe he should toss out the pack of camels in his pocket.