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“Are you coming home?”
Doyoung’s voice is raspy, meaning that he either woke up from a nap and immediately called Taeyong, or he’s going to catch up on sleep while waiting for Taeyong to get back. Either way, it’s endearing: the thought of Doyoung thinking about him, missing him enough to call.
He’s been like this for the past few weeks while Taeyong’s been busy with his solo promotions. There was the time Doyoung attended one of his shows alongside Johnny, Jungwoo, and Jaehyun, and the way they’d ducked into a closet only for Doyoung to kiss the daylight out of him was unforgettable. Other than that, the only time they’re able to spend time together is after the work day ends, and Taeyong goes back to his house to find Doyoung lazing about on his sofa. (Because he does that now, apparently— the change from his idol persona to his real self throws Taeyong off sometimes.)
Taeyong, hyper-aware of the staff riding in the van with him, plugs his earphones into the phone and raises the mic up to his mouth. “I am, don’t worry. Are you sleepy?”
There’s a bit of movement on Doyoung’s side, and then a small sigh. “No, just a little bit exhausted. Did you wash your sheets?” It’s easy to tell that Doyoung is close to passing out, solely based on how he prolongs his vowels, his words slow and lazy. “They don’t smell like you anymore.”
Ah. Well. Taeyong’s cheeks heat up a little bit at the comment. I didn’t expect him to be so open about lying in my bed while waiting for me.
“I did, honey~ You asked me last time you came over, so…” Taeyong hesitates, and shakes his head. Perhaps it’s not the best idea to use such intimate phrasing when he’s surrounded by people who could very easily use it against him. “Anyway. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Doyoung lets out a satisfied hum. “Mm. Come quicker. I made bibim guksu for you. I don’t want it to get cold.”
Another way of saying I miss you. I hope you’re okay. I want you to eat well.
“Okay,” Taeyong replies quietly, smiling harder than he’s able to repress. The line goes dead, and he returns his attention back to Animal Crossing for the time-being.
The running joke is that any person, after they spend around half an hour with Doyoung, easily can pick up on how sharp he is. He’s gifted with perfect cheeks and a sharp collarbone and pouty lips and broad shoulders and, well, about any attractive feature someone could be born with. His voice is beautiful and when he sings, Taeyong firmly believes that an angel dies.
To anyone else, he’s Kim Doyoung, one of the more rational members of the group. Those who aren’t fans know him for his singing capabilities and his resemblance to a rabbit, a bunny, if they find him particularly cute.
But Doyoung’s softened over the years. All of the sharp edges have been smoothed out, skin and bone shaped into toned muscle. He’s harder for the younger members to provoke, and has started becoming a little bit more confident when responding to Taeyong’s charms. Recently, he’s been posting on social media and slowly revealing a bolder side to him than what’s been shown before.
Doyoung is… a lot of things. It’s hard for Taeyong to put it into words, but he can confidently say that Doyoung is— well, his.
The van stops in front of his house, and a staff member keeps watch while he unlocks the door. He thanks them, and steps inside, locking it behind himself.
“Doyoungie,” Taeyong calls out into the otherwise-empty house. To no reply, he raises an eyebrow and kicks his shoes off. “Doyoung? Dongyoung? Kim Doyoung?”
To be fair, Doyoung did say he was exhausted during our call today. Surely he couldn’t have been so tired as to fall asleep in a matter of minutes? Taeyong huffs a fond laugh, dropping his bag on a table in the hallway and making his way up the stairs.
A majority of the 127 members had moved out of the dorms due to privacy issues, and the idea of having one’s own space was tempting. Taeyong moved into a rather nice place himself, though it’d be a lie to say that he didn’t get lonely sometimes. Besides, it’s always a nice surprise getting home and seeing Doyoung in the hallway, casually straightening his bangs in front of the mirror as if it belongs to him.
The door to his room is closed, so Taeyong raps his knuckles against the doorway one time and waits for a reply, then slides the door open.
As expected, Doyoung is passed out with the comforter wrapped tightly around his body. He managed to take his glasses off before crashing ( it’d be a shame if he broke them, Taeyong thinks fondly). He’s not wearing any amount of makeup, his hair is messier than normal; this man on the mattress is a reflection of how Doyoung looks when they’re alone, where there aren’t any cameras to retain their secrets or catch them in the act.
Taeyong stares at him, looks over at the light from the sunset filtering through the curtains, and stares at him a little longer before he walks over to the bed, and the blanketed lump on top of it.
“Doyoungie,” he says sweetly and shakes the lump as gently as possible. “Doyoungie, come on, wake up.”
“Nnnn,” the lump replies, and turns the other way.
Taeyong clicks his tongue, slides into the bed, and wraps his arms around blanketed Doyoung, then squeezes him close to his waist, “Doyoungie, didn’t you say you wanted me to come home quicker? I’m here now.”
“Shut up,” groans Doyoung, and slips a hand out of the blanket cocoon to reach over and weakly hit Taeyong’s arm. Taeyong laughs, peeling back the blanket and peering down at him; Doyoung blearily blinks and squints, his eyes adjusting to the mellow sunlight from the windows.
His face is a little puffy, and he smells vaguely of sandalwood. Comfortable. Familiar. “Hi,” Doyoung mumbles when Taeyong leans down to kiss him on the cheek, at the corner of his lips. “How was it?”
Taeyong retraces his steps briefly while Doyoung sits up and puts his glasses on, leaning his back against the headboard. He decidedly lies his head in Doyoung’s lap and reaches for Doyoung’s hand: his hands were slender and always well-manicured. Taeyong bites back a grin when he sees that the other is wearing their ring on his finger, the one that Taeyong had suggested they buy together as a set, and the one that Doyoung ended up paying for.
“Ah, it was great— I loved seeing Czennie supporting me, their cheers were so loud.” Smiling, Taeyong looks up to see Doyoung already gazing down at him with a look only signifying adoration. Something deep inside of his chest bursts, and suddenly, he feels the need to bury his face into Doyoung’s shirt, so he does. “You smell good, Doie. New perfume?”
A hand comes up to curl into the faded purple hair growing at Taeyong’s nape, gently massaging the skin. “Mm. I guess… Jungwoo and I went out shopping today, so that’s where I got the cologne. And then Taeil-hyung came along with us for lunch, then for the rest of the day, I sat in the recording studio for— god, it felt like hours, Taeyongie.” He lets out a shaky sigh, his hand going limp in Taeyong’s hair. “But now you’re here, and…”
Maybe there’s something in the way that their free hands naturally lace together, as though Taeyong’s hand was created to fit into the empty spaces of Doyoung’s. Or, perhaps, something in the way Taeyong knows Doyoung is studying him with that tender look of his, so he meets his eyes, holding the stare. “And..?”
The younger’s cheeks go a little pink. “You know,” he impatiently murmurs, tilting Taeyong’s chin up while he leans down to connect their lips.
Doyoung is— a good kisser. Before Taeyong had the meltdown of his life realizing he was, in fact, infatuated with his best friend and before Doyoung decided he wouldn’t mind waking up next to Taeyong every day, Taeyong had heard rumors of Doyoung’s kissing abilities from the other members. (News travels fast in a group of young adult men, after all.) He’d never lie and say that it didn’t make him a little bit envious, but all of his presumed hopeless yearning was worth this.
It gets to the extent where Taeyong starts pressing kisses to Doyoung’s jaw because he knows that’s where he’s ticklish, and Doyoung laughs before leaning back to separate their embrace.
“Sorry, ah.” Doyoung’s lips are a little bit kiss-bruised and he’s bashfully averting his eyes, and Taeyong feels just the slightest bit of pride at knowing who the culprit was. “Hyung, have you eaten yet? I told you I made kalguksu?”
“... Oh.” He forgot about that. “Well.”
Doyoung raises an eyebrow.
“I’ll eat it eventually?” Taeyong offers, and Doyoung reaches down to flick his forehead. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry. I’ll eat it in a bit, just give me a few minutes.”
Doyoung huffs, which is expected, because he’s never been the patient type. “To do what?”
“To breathe you in, honey.”
“That’s so cheesy,” the other grumbles, but apparently the cheesiness works, because Taeyong looks up at him suspiciously and sees him looking away. “I’m not blushing,” Doyoung adds as if it’ll help his case.
“I never said you were.”
“Quiet,” he cheerfully retorts, and Doyoung leans in to kiss him again.
Doyoung insists that Taeyong sits down while he prepares the food, because you’re tired and you look worn out, or something of that sort. So he does: he takes a seat at his dining table and lets his eyes wander around his own household.
It’s not exactly efficient at easing the restlessness he has. Doyoung relieves restlessness. Doyoung could relieve anything if he were within a mile of Taeyong.
“ Oof,” grunts Doyoung when Taeyong presses himself up against his back and hugs his arms around his waist. “Yongie—“
“You’re just preparing the food, I don’t see any problems with me being here,” he mumbles into Doyoung’s shoulder, reveling in the way that the younger’s back flexes instinctively.
Doyoung fixes a Look onto him. “I kissed you as many times as you wanted and I made you food and am serving you said food and now you want more?”
How unfair. “Mind you,” Taeyong pauses, and glares back, “You went into my house and slept in my bed, and I didn’t fuss over that…”
“Really, hm.” He’s smiling to himself when he fetches a spoon and brings the bowl over to Taeyong’s place at the dining table, all while Taeyong is attached to him. “I seem to very clearly recall one Lee Taeyong asking me to keep the bed warm while he’s away—“
Sighing, Taeyong separates himself from his boyfriend, who’s now cackling, and sits down in front of the food; Doyoung takes the seat across from him, and watches as he takes the first few bites of the noodles, humming in pure, delicious bliss.
“So?”
Taeyong looks at him and musters the biggest smile he can possibly offer the man he plans on spending the rest of his life with, “It’s good. Thank you.”
“Don’t say that.” Doyoung clicks his tongue: you don’t need to thank me, I do this because I want to. “Oh, and about that thing you requested— it’s not enough, I think.”
Taeyong stills, taking his confusion as a moment to drink some water. “It’s not enough?” he echoes.
“Keeping the bed warm by myself isn’t enough, I mean. It’s much better when you’re there with me.” Doyoung’s voice gets quiet near the end, his eyes looking anywhere but Taeyong; there’s an evident embarrassment to his words, if the hitch in his breath had anything to do with it.
Taeyong lets his words settle into his skin. Brand themselves into the crevices of his mind. As if Kim Doyoung didn’t already take over what little sanity he had left.
Doyoung is sitting across from him with his shirt hanging off of his frame, much too big for him. He’d stayed over every night for the last week, even though Taeyong wasn’t there, to fulfill a request both of them knew was unattainable. He takes care of Taeyong while risking his own health, he follows him wherever he goes to ensure his safety. Doyoung hugs Taeyong around the waist only because Taeyong pulls him in by the shoulders.
They are idols, with much more money than they need and all the places in the world to go, but Doyoung is sitting across from him at his dining table.
Taeyong is certain, a decision made within the fleeting milliseconds of a single heartbeat, that he loves him.
So he says so, because it is only the right thing to do: for someone as honest as Taeyong, to love someone like Doyoung. To love Doyoung. He loves Doyoung, and that is all.
“I love you,” Taeyong says, simple-minded in nature, and leans over his bowl to take another serving of noodles into his mouth.
Across the table, Doyoung sharply inhales— then he breathes out, first softly, and another time for good measure. Love comes in waves; Taeyong feels himself crumble at the sight of Doyoung’s glassy eyes, feels himself slowly sinking further, and wonders how he’ll ever manage to save himself from drowning.
Doyoung looks at him finally and says, “Never in the past four years that I’ve waited for you would I imagine you’d say that outside of my dreams.”
Ducking his head over the bowl, Taeyong smiles into his broth. “Then I’d advise you to get used to it.”
“What have the kids been up to,” asks Taeyong, threading his fingers through Doyoung’s and brushing the back of his hand with his fingertips. There’s not really any intention behind it— Doyoung happened to be there, lying on his back on the mattress and Taeyong found it convenient to take in the smell of his existence.
Eyes closed, Doyoung hums. “Not much really. You know that Hyuck and Mark are preparing for that upcoming comeback with the Dreamies, and the rest of us have a fanmeeting soon…” Taeyong watches his eyes flit towards the window; neither of them had bothered to close the drapes, leaving the room dim with its only light source being a candle on Taeyong’s desk. “I think we’re all just looking for ways to waste time. I’ve slept too much and now I’m tired of it,” he sighs, shaking his head to himself.
Considering the fact that Doyoung loves sleeping and really nothing else, it’s a shock to hear that for the first time in his life, he’d wanted to do something other than sleep. Taeyong turns his body so that he’s on his side, facing the man next to him. “And you?”
“Hmmm?”
“What have you been up to in that case, Doie?”
“I don’t know,” Doyoung says easily. “There are some days where I’ll make plans with one of the other members, some days where I’ll learn how to cook something new. I just try to occupy myself. I even…” His voice goes quiet, and then he turns away.
Taeyong throws an arm over his body and pulls him closer to his chest, even when Doyoung stubbornly groans. “You even—?”
“I’m not going to say it. It’s embarrassing.” The room is dark, but somehow, Taeyong gets the strong impression that Doyoung is blushing.
“There are so many embarrassing things that I know about you, pretty.”
At least the pet name gets a laugh out of Doyoung. “Don’t say that. Fine, I even… I considered buying that game that you like. The, ah. Animal one? I was thinking that maybe then it wouldn’t bother you to have me watch you play, and instead we could play together.” Eventually, he’s able to meet Taeyong’s eyes, pushing out his bottom lip a little, “But it’s really too hard for me to understand, so…”
Taeyong opens and closes his mouth several times, but nothing comes out. It seems like it’s one of those times, where Doyoung manages to render him speechless and before he knows it, he’s propping himself up with his arms and kissing any part of Doyoung that he can reach.
Doyoung sputters and scrunches up his nose. “Ah—”
“You’re so cute,” Taeyong coos in between kisses, “Aw, did you miss me that much—”
“You’re so gross, Taeyong, stop,” whines Doyoung, starting to weakly slap Taeyong with no amount of resentment whatsoever. So Taeyong giggles and kisses his nose one last time for good measure, then gently lowers himself back down onto the bed; he lets Doyoung rest his hand on his bicep, running it up and down his arm.
“But you know,” Taeyong starts suddenly, fixing a serious look on his boyfriend, “I don’t care if you’re playing or not, Doyoungie. Well, unless you want to play, of course— but having you there is enough for me. I like performing with you and I like living with you. I’d do anything so long as you’re the one asking.” He pauses, and then nods with assurance. “It never bothers me when you’re watching. Nothing is a bother unless it bothers you. Then it bothers me. Alright?”
Doyoung is gazing at him with something ambiguous, his brows knitted slightly; Taeyong leans towards him and kisses the place between his eyebrows, and then softly asks again, “Okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” he responds just as softly, moving a little closer so that he can fit himself against Taeyong’s chest, right in his arms. Taeyong lets his hands slip under Doyoung’s shirt and rub at his hip bones, his eyes closing naturally. For a little while, the only thing they can hear is the sound of breathing.
“Taeyong,” whispers Doyoung, and then he pinches his arm. Taeyong jolts.
“Hey,” he pouts when Doyoung flips around to glare at him.
“You should’ve said you were sleepy, idiot.”
“I’m not— well, I don’t think I am…?” He’s still a little dazed to the point where he doesn’t realize that he’s reaching out to run his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, and Doyoung is — unsurprisingly — leaning into his touch, sighing almost exasperatedly. “Isn’t there a thing about being able to sleep easily when around people you’re comfortable with?”
“Sure, but…” Doyoung only shakes his head and curls back into him. “I didn’t want you to fall asleep without a goodnight from me.”
Oh, Taeyong thinks, that’s new. When did you become so soft, Kim Doyoung?
Taeyong can only laugh and press a kiss to the top of Doyoung’s head. “What will you do when I’m sleeping, then? You were napping earlier and you just said you were tired of it.”
“Things like these go both ways. You said that having me there is enough for you, and having you there is enough for me, Taeyongie,” Doyoung mumbles into his chest. “Besides, I’ve spent too much time without you. I’m fine being here, so just sleep.”
“Are you—”
“I’m sure,” the other answers without even having to hear the rest of it. “This is what you owe me for keeping the bed warm, got it?”
Taeyong looks down at him, suddenly small in the warmth of his arms, and smiles. “Okay. Goodnight, Doyoung.”
“Sleep well, Taeyong.”
Tomorrow, he’ll wake up seconds or minutes or an hour after Doyoung does, and he’ll soak in the sight of Doyoung drinking coffee at the table as if it’s his own home, and not Taeyong’s. Tomorrow will be a new day, full of practicing and going out for lunch and then maybe practicing some more, until they’re worn out and they ache and yearn to be asleep once more. For right now, the sky is covered in a sheet of darkness, only broken by the single candle in Taeyong’s room, and in the midst of it all, he exists with Doyoung.