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“Don’t you ever get bored of those?”
Jisung blinks and looks over his shoulder, where Chenle shuffles to sit up on his bed. His phone is set face down while charging, his hair is a total mess, and there’s a pillow line cutting across his cheek. String lights and desktop monitor providing the only source of light in the room, his skin glows pale blue, shadows across the cut planes of his face.
He’s pretty like this, when his make-up is wiped off and his responsibilities are lifted off his shoulders. He’s pretty like this, when he’s in one of Jisung’s t-shirts, sitting on Jisung’s bed, wrapped in Jisung’s blanket, in the dark of Jisung’s room.
He’s pretty like this, when he’s unashamedly himself.
Chenle is so, so pretty, and after twelve years, Jisung still doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it.
“Well?” Chenle clears his throat and raises an eyebrow.
Jisung blinks and doesn’t even bother ducking his head to hide the flush he feels creep up his cheeks. With over half of the tour finished, he’s seen enough videos from fans of him absently staring at Chenle for what feels like forever, and he’s seen enough videos from fans of Chenle being none the wiser.
“Not really,” he answers, glancing back at his screen. The documentary is finished, screen displaying more suggested shows, all of which Jisung has already binged. “Space changes day to day. It expands, it births new celestial bodies, and we haven’t even discovered a fraction of it. Space is one big estimation astronomers and astrophysicists dedicate their entire lives to discovering. What’s there to get bored of?”
Chenle shrugs, turning to look out the window. The curtains are pulled back, and the Seoul nighttime seeps through the glass. They sat like this, years ago, in the darkened wings of the China’s Got Talent stage, catwalk spots instead of stars and iPods in hand instead of fragile hearts. “Isn’t it all the same? All the stars are just gas. All the celestial bodies are just rocks and more gas. Space is just emptiness full of rocks and gas.”
“The rocks are different colours,” Jisung explains, still staring at Chenle. There’s a faint trace of stubble on his jaw, easier to see now that he’s facing the moon. “The gasses have different elemental percentages. There’s a lot of intricacies separating some rocks from other rocks.”
“I guess.”
Jisung laughs. “It’s okay if you don’t get it.”
Chenle looks at him properly at that, and Jisung’s breath catches. “I’d rather discover stuff on the planet,” he muses, “like more countries and more music and more people. Now that I’ve seen an NBA game live, I need a new bucket list item to replace it.”
“What’s on your bucket list?”
“Concert in Shanghai, buy my parents a house, watch the Warriors win Championships,” he lists, fidgeting with his ring. “Adopt a brother for Daegal, learn Japanese, get engaged.” Chenle sinks deeper into the bed, impossibly small. “What about you? What do you want to do?”
“It’s about space again, though.”
“So?” Chenle stares at him pointedly. His eyes sparkle from the city lights, and Jisung wonders how many stars he could count in them had they been standing outside under the midnight sky instead. “Tell me anyway.”
“Go to an observatory,” Jisung mumbles, “Visit a place where the aurora borealis can be visibly seen. Travel to space.”
In all fairness, there’s things he wants to discover on the planet too, but it’s things he doesn’t know how to say aloud despite how much time he’s spent mulling over the ideals. He’s already discovered what it feels like to fall in love with his best friend, and he supposes everything else he wants to do are enough of pipe dreams to fall on a bucket list.
He wants to discover things like how Chenle’s hand feels in his own, what Chenle looks like when he’s fast asleep, all the spots across Chenle’s neck that flush darker when he’s embarrassed, the taste of abstraction on Chenle’s lips.
Wants to discover what it feels like to kiss Chenle under the stars.
Wants to kiss Chenle.
Want to kiss you.
“That’s cute,” Chenle hums.
“Will you come with me?” Jisung asks. “Please?” Forever goes unsaid, and he wonders if Chenle can hear it regardless.
Chenle grins, shuffling to the edge of the bed to sit inches apart from Jisung. “You didn’t need to say please.”
“Not true,” he mumbles. With their knees practically touching, Jisung can feel warmth washing off Chenle in waves, an autumn flavoured gentleness. “You never give me anything I ask for.”
“Yah, Andy Park!” Chenle scoffs, “Are you kidding? I can’t believe this disrespect. Here, ask me for something right now and don’t say please, I’ll give it to you.”
There’s a million things running through Jisung’s head, the loudest of which being denying the offer entirely and forcing Chenle to go to sleep, rest up, they have an early flight to catch tomorrow. Between the two of them, it’s always Jisung that’s more restrained, Jisung that keeps them in line, Jisung that does his best not to toe over the line no matter how far Chenle runs. The same weight on his shoulders makes its return, pressing down on his tongue, his hands, and his qualms.
In Chenle’s eyes, though, a light flashes.
A car whizzing by, a street light going out, all Jisung can make of it is the streak of a shooting star—the imprint of a sign from the universe.
“Can you—?” Jisung swallows. Opens his mouth, closes his mouth. Squeezes his duvet. “Can you kiss me?”
The pause is every sort of unbearable, so much so, he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself together.
A lightyear passes.
“Jisung-ah.”
Chenle’s voice is quiet, so quiet, too quiet, and Jisung flinches at the fingers ghosting his cheek. “Hey. Jisung. Look at me. Look at me, I know you can.”
Jisung opens his eyes and looks at Chenle, and it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done since he fell in love forever ago. Jisung looks at Chenle, and Chenle is so, so pretty.
He studies around Jisung’s face, searching, finally letting their gazes lock. “You weren’t joking, were you? You’re not funny enough to think of that.”
“Hey,” Jisung protests weakly. After a beat passes, he adds, “I didn’t say please.”
“I know.” Chenle’s expression softens into one Jisung’s never seen before. Jisung wants to discover the rest of Chenle’s expressions. Jisung is pretty sure he wants to discover every last part of Chenle, even if it means dedicating the rest of his life to it. Especially if it means dedicating the rest of his life to it.
When Chenle brushes his thumbs over Jisung’s eyelids to shut them and leans forward to close the gap, a million and one things run through his head, the quietest of which is a realisation, an answer to a question he didn’t know he held against his heart, a discovery.
Chenle tastes something like the sun.