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They don’t kiss very often.
Taesan can count the number of times they have properly kissed–not a light peck to the side of their lips, not a sweet little thing on their cheeks but a kiss–on his hands alone and only once was he the one initiating it. Sometimes, he wonders if this bothers Jaehyun, if it could ever be reason enough for him to break things off with Taesan.
“Yah, Han Taesan, are you even listening to me?” Jaehyun’s voice is honeyed despite the teasing tone. He’s sprawled on the mat before Taesan, his legs swinging up and down, heedless of the sand clinging to his new pants–Jaehyun always wears a newly bought outfit on all of their dates–with miniscule ochre grains flying around.
“Repeat what I just said,” he demands once Taesan meets his gaze, a faux-stern expression painting his face.
Taesan scoffs softly and leans back on his hands, his legs criss-crossed, so close to Jaehyun’s face. “You sound remarkably like my highschool teacher, hyung. And for the record – I heard everything you said. I don’t think the candy shop owner was judging you. Shouldn’t he be happy that you’re bulk buying so many treats from him?”
Jaehyun lets out a put-upon sigh and slowly turns over, looking at Taesan with a back-roll of his eyes, “You don’t get it, Taesan-ah. I heard him muttering to the Convenience Store owner about the youth and their insatiable appetite for all things sweet. I was right there, you know? With my trolley of chocolate bars and candies and toffees and... you get the idea. He was talking about me!”
Taesan smiles down at him, humming, “Then take it as a testament of your unparalleled sweet tooth.”
“More like Riwoo’s,” Jaehyun grumbles. “I think I got two strips of sour candy and the rest was devoured by him.”
Taesan doesn’t respond further and for a while, Jaehyun stays silent, too. It had surprised him before, in their early days of getting to really know each other, how Jaehyun preferred his moments of quiet just as much as he did.
He never imagined bonding with someone as loud, as lively as Jaehyun on their mutual love for peaceful sunsets but here they are, savouring the orange-red fires of the sky as the sun slowly goes to slumber.
“Taesan?”
“Hm?”
“Make some room for me,” Jaehyun murmurs and scoots back on his elbows, his head dropping lightly onto Taesan’s lap as if probing for permission.
Taesan doesn’t stiffen anymore. Doesn’t feel the hair on the back of his neck rise.
He simply braces himself and lets Jaehyun get comfortable, lets Jaehyun make him his pillow. The added warmth is oddly comforting and it will always remain just a bit odd, he’s certain, but that’s okay. Their relationship was never meant to be normal, anyway.
“Does your back still hurt?” Jaehyun inquires once he’s stopped moving around, having found the perfect spot on the crook of Taesan’s folded thighs.
“Just a bit,” Taesan says truthfully.
“I can put the relief spray on you once we’re back at the dorm,” Jaehyun replies idly, fiddling with a button on his jacket. He’ll probably pop it off by the time the sun fully sets.
“You just want to see me shirtless, hyung,” Taesan says, smiling preemptively at the reaction he’s anticipating. Jaehyun doesn’t disappoint.
“How dare you!” Jaehyun whisper-yells, briefly abandoning the button to clutch at his heart–only he grabs the right side–and raises his brows up comically. He’s admitted once, how he amps up his retorts, how he acts childishly on purpose because he knows it amuses Taesan. And it always works, just like now, especially now.
“I have the purest of intentions–helping my poor, ache-ridden boyfriend–but there he goes, sullying my name, accusing me of perversion!”
Taesan smiles wider, a small laugh stealing past his lips. He turns his head away, hiding the huff of mirth into his shoulder but Jaehyun knows he’s won this, anyway.
He grins up at him, wide and sincere, “I love it when you laugh,” he says, voice nothing but earnest. Even now, after months of being together, Jaehyun’s transparency has a way of shocking Taesan. “I love the sound of your laugh. Did you know that?”
“How can you say such things with a straight face, hyung?” Taesan asks but he’s still smiling as he meets Jaehyun’s gaze. “I mean, at least cushion the blow.”
“I don’t have a reason to mince my words,” Jaehyun says, doing a little shrug which knocks his shoulders against Taesan.
Taesan thinks for a moment, then gently lowers his hand into Jaehyun’s hair. He pries apart clusters of strands, his fingers carding loosely through the newly dyed hair, feeling Jaehyun relax further and further into his hold.
Jaehyun’s right. He has no need to mince his words but Taesan knows he minces his actions, anyway. Maybe mincing isn’t the right word–too brutal, too absolute.
Jaehyun... he subdues his actions, he gives them due consideration when it comes to Taesan. Sometimes, it feels like Jaehyun will forever walk on eggshells around him but Taesan knows he can’t allow himself to think that way. It’s a disservice to Jaehyun and himself–their relationship is not built on caution.
But it’s not built without compromise either.
Because this is what it comes down to:
Taesan doesn’t like touch too much.
He doesn’t like deliberate, consistent contact with people. Skin-on-skin, lips brushing against each other, feeling the texture of someone’s clothes at the back of his hand. It all discomforts him, always has. There is no reason for it–not that he can infer–and most of the time, he isn’t bothered by it, either.
But he likes Jaehyun alot. Loves him.
And Jaehyun loves touch.
He’s probably the most tactile person Taesan knows. If Taesan perceives the world through his eyes, uses his words to iron out his understanding of the world, Jaehyun approaches everyone and everything fearlessly, poking and prodding and touching and learning.
For Jaehyun, expressing his affections manifests through physical means – a pinch of cheeks, a tap on the shoulder, knees pushed against one another. For Jaehyun, touch is important, necessary even. He gives comfort through contact, he derives comfort through contact. He likes touch and touching and being touched.
But that’s not the only thing he likes, Taesan reminds himself. Because while they’ve always existed on the extremes, facing each other from separate ends of every spectrum, they have always found a way of meeting one another in the middle, of bending, of compromising, of discovering exceptions they never thought existed.
“I’m not sure, hyung,” Taesan says. He’s a bit frightened, alot confused, but trying to find a way. He wants to find a way. “Physical intimacy is not my thing.”
“Okay,” Jaehyun says and he regards Taesan with hesitant hope. “Can you give me your emotional intimacy, then? That’s all that matters to me.”
“I really need a hug right now, Taesanie,” Jaehyun says, some kind of despair clinging to him like an exoskeleton. This week has been a tough one. “But if you can’t, I understand. We can just sit–”
“Don’t be stupid, hyung,” Taesan says, frowning. He walks upto Jaehyun and slowly pulls him into a tight hug. The fabric of Jaehyun’s knit sweater is soft under his skin and Jaehyun digs his chin onto his shoulder, leaning in, his breath warm on his neck. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“What do you think about sex?”
“I don’t really think about it.”
“Would you want to, I don’t know, try it with me?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure, hyung.”
“That’s okay.”
“Do you want to?”
“Have sex? Yes and no. If you’re up for it, I am too. If you don’t want to, then that’s that.”
“But... Don’t you want to have that kind of relationship? Are you really okay with just not doing it?”
“You’re being stupid again. The kind of relationship I want is the one I have with you, Taesanie. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Jaehyun?” Taesan says.
Jaehyun looks up from his phone-screen. They are both waiting for their turns to get their makeup done. In a few hours, they will perform their latest comeback song for the first time.
“Yes? What’s the matter?”
Taesan shakes his head. “Can we kiss?”
Jaehyun’s expression stills for a second. “Yes. But... why?”
“Because I want to,” Taesan shrugs and switches couches, settling beside Jaehyun.
Jaehyun stares at him for a moment before his lips curl up into a small, impressed sort of smile. “Then come on, Taesanie. Kiss me stupid.”
Taesan leans in, ready to oblige.
The sea grows louder the quieter they become. Waves wash over the sand, frothing and bubbling, before dissipating and pulling away. The roadway traffic noise still makes its way to them, faint and distant. Another hour or so and they will have to return. Taesan doesn’t mind it.
They have always preferred short, contained dates over full day plans. Their schedule is still full enough that time for leisure is rare, the in-betweens providing the only source of rest. He doesn’t mind that, either.
“Let’s play a little game,” Jaehyun says, tilting his head a bit so he can see Taesan. “I’ll say a sentence and then, you have you to say a sentence. Except, it can’t be even remotely related to what I said. Then, it’s my turn again and so on and so forth. Got the rules?”
Taesa gives him a look, ”What kind of game is that?”
“My kind of game.”
“Fine,” Taesan replies, shrugging. “You go first, hyung.”
Jaehyun makes a show of thinking before he begins, “If the sun was a guy, I’d marry him.”
“How do you even know the sun would be gay–and if we really are treating celestial bodies as hypothetical anthromorphs, wouldn’t the moon be the sun’s better match?”
“That’s bullshit,” Jaehyun opines with a huff. “The moon is obviously the sun’s son. Always relying on the sun for light and–we’re getting off topic! It’s your turn, Taesanie. Don’t ruin the spirit of the game!”
Taesan smiles. “Hm... Woonhakie likes potatoes?”
“An acceptable attempt,” Jaehyun replies. “Some jewellery is so itchy.”
“Agreed,” Taesan says, suddenly very aware of the metallic bracelet on his wrist. “Trees are green.”
Jaehyun laughs softly, “I’ve never heard a more enlightening observation than that.”
“I’m not trying to be smart, hyung,” Taesan rolls his eyes. “Just trying to win your stupid, pointless game.”
“I see,” Jaehyun says. “You’re just humoring me.”
“Aren’t I always?” Taesan says and he’s lying. They both know it.
Still, “God, you’re just trampling on my feelings today, aren’t you Han Taesan?” Jaehyun asks with a small grin. “You stopped stroking my hair. Keep going.”
Taesan blinks and resumes his careful ministrations, “And you insist you aren’t a puppy.”
Jaehyun sniffs, shamelessly leaning into his touch, “Who said wolves don’t like being petted, huh? Even fierce warriors of the woodland deserve some pats on the head, you know?”
“Are you calling yourself the human equivalent of a ‘fierce warrior of the woodland’?” Taesan asks, both his brows raised.
“So what if I am?”
“You are not very warrior-like, hyung,” Taesan says and looks closely as Jaehyun tries to hide his smile, tries to smother the soft look he always wears around Taesan.
It makes Taesan giddy sometimes. This ridiculous understanding they have of each other–when words spoken and unspoken, gestures intended and unintended are received by the other and dissected with nothing less than utmost care.
Taesan knows he’s someone who is worth being understood because Jaehyun never treats him otherwise. And maybe, that is why, despite their sizable differences, they fit together so well. Maybe, it’s really just that simple.
One of their video editors had told him this in passing:
Contrast ultimately leads to greater clarity.
Whether it’s about the intensity of pixels or about Jaehyun and Taesan, he thinks it’s a pretty accurate observation.
“Warriors don’t always wear armour, Taesanie,” Jaehyun says sagely. “Sometimes, they wear jackets with one button missing.”
Taesan shifts his gaze downwards and can’t help but shake his head fondly when he notices the empty space once occupied by the unfortunate button Jaehyun had decided to mess with. “So, warrior Jaehyun, what do you fight for?”
Jaehyun squints his eyes in thought, “Eight hours of sleep? That’s a worthy enough cause.”
“You don’t fight for me?”
“My cheesiness is rubbing off on you,” Jaehyun says with a small gasp. “How horrifying. And what I do for you never feels like a fight or a struggle, you know? It feels easy... natural, even.”
Taesan’s hand pauses for a moment, feeling strangely touched by those words. “I like hard pillows over soft ones.”
“Back to the game?” Jaehyun starts poking at another button. “Sand should have been named shit and vice versa.”
“Oceans are more mysterious than space.”
“Spoken like a true Leehan,” Jaehyun comments, crossing his legs at the ankles. He’s not lying on Taesan’s lap anymore, he’s almost leaning his entire upper body on him. Taesan opens up, making more space for him, his free arm thrown over Jaehyun’s chest. It still feels odd but the right kind of odd.
“Meowing is an awesome onomatopoeia,” Jaehyun tacks on. “What if we made a music video about a song called ‘It’s raining cats and dogs’ and it’s just you and me superimposed onto a bunch of raindrops?”
“No,” Taesan says.
“But–”
“Never,” he adds more firmly. “I want to see a snakelet hatch in real time before I die.”
Jaehyun blinks and regards him with some amusement, “That’s an interesting bucket list entry. We can go on a wildlife expedition on our next date if you want.”
Taesan nods slightly, “That’d be fun.”
Their dates are always different. Sometimes, they go dancing in a club or gaming in an arcade or walking in a park. Other times, they join a one-day tango class or busk on a busy road or go trek up a scenic hill. Most of the time, they sit around a cozy setting–a beach, a bedroom, a café, a backstage green room–and talk for hours on end. Majority of it is nonsensical, trivial, pointless. But Taesan loves these conversations anyway.
He’s realised this many times in his life but especially with Jaehyun–that knowing a person isn’t about their likes or dislikes. Or their favourite colours or preferred music genre. It’s about who they are, what they are.
It’s about Jaehyun’s little habits and tics and tells. It’s about a person’s history reflected in every piece of their present. It’s about Jaehyun–his silly thoughts and profound opinions and variable manner of living and loving. It’s knowing the whole of someone without ever intending to, without ever consciously deciding to.
Knowing Jaehyun is familiarising himself to him, like the handle of a door that starts moulding to the design of his palm, or the sole of a shoe that is forever creased with the impression of his foot. It’s about holding the rigid square lines of his life and slowly pushing them out, making the shape irregular and undefined so he can be more flexible for another person he sincerely wants to accomodate.
It’s about learning about Jaehyun by learning more about himself.
Taesan holds the knife deftly as he sections the apples into thin slices on the chopping board. The night is matured and he isn’t in the mood to expend anymore energy into a midnight snack.
Someone shuffles behind him and after a moment, two arms embrace him, wrapping around his torso, a familiar head leaning above his shoulder.
Somehow, his hand slips and the knife makes a small cut on one of his fingers.
“Shit,” Jaehyun mutters and stumbles back, rushing to retrieve a few tissues from a box nearby. “Sorry, Taesanie. I should’ve asked–”
Taesan finds himself frowning, idly sucking on the small scratch, “No, hyung. I didn’t... I wasn’t uncomfortable or scared or something. Just wasn’t paying attention.”
“Are you sure?” Jaehyun asks and Taesan lets him fuss over his finger, lets him bandaid that near-invisible wound. He’s never been able to deny Jaehyun’s care. “If you don’t like it, that’s okay. I can stop–”
“I like it,” Taesan interrupts, surprising even his ownself.
Jaehyun quirks a brow, dubious, “You do?”
“Hmm,” Taesan answers, noncommittal, turning around. “Back-hugs are fine.”
“Oh.”
“Yes,” Taesan says, picking up the knife again. “Only in moderation, though.”
He senses Jaehyun grinning and in moments, the arms are back, Jaehyun tightening his hold on him. Cotton-on-cotton, skin-on-skin.
It feels okay. It feels good.
When did it start feeling good?
“I don’t do moderation,” Jaehyun says, sounding extremely smug. “But I’ll try my best for you, Taesanie.”
“Everyone finds me sexy,” Jaehyun says, posing exaggeratedly in front of their practice room’s full body mirror. “But you don’t.”
Taesan’s lounging on his duffel bag, keeping half his attention on Jaehyun on the other side of the room. The other four are still in the cafeteria, eating lunch. Taesan already ate with Jaehyun in his studio earlier.
“I find you sexy, hyung. Very sexy. Extremely sexy.”
“So many words and not a drop of sincerity detected,” Jaehyun says, crossing his arms. “Hey. I’m serious, you know.”
“Me too,” Taesan says, placing his phone down and meeting Jaehyun’s eyes. “Do you doubt me?”
“But you’re asexual, aren’t you?”
Taesan smiles. It feels weird putting a label on it but his sexuality–or well, lack thereof–is no alien topic. “What’s that got to do with your inherent sexiness, hyung?”
Jaehyun groans, hiding his face behind a hand, “Stop it. Don’t be a smart-ass with me.”
“I can’t suppress my nature, hyung. Just like you can’t suppress your sexiness–”
“Yah!” Jaehyun walks towards him, abandoning gawking at himself in the mirror. “I just meant! Like you don’t even feel sexually attracted to me. How can you find me sexy?”
Taesan rolls his eyes, “You’re overthinking it. Don’t be so literal. I am attracted to you, hyung. Just not in a way that makes me...”
“Want to fuck me? Or get fucked by me?”
“Er, yeah,” Taesan shrugs, “That.”
Stuff like this is still awkward for him–the realisation that something that is a normality for most, a default for most, is simply not a part of his life.
“Then how about a kiss?” Jaehyun crouches down before him, a tilt to his head. “I know we kissed the week before but we never cleared this up, did we? Do you mind?”
Taesan thinks for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“Then I’m kissing you right now,” Jaehyun says with a small smile but he doesn’t lean in yet. “Okay?”
Taesan turns towards him. He’s not sure about alot of things but neither is Jaehyun and the only way they can figure this out is if they try together.
“Okay.”
“Taesan,” Jaehyun says. At some point during the game, he’d closed his eyes. He keeps them shut as he continues, “You said you have a gift for me.”
“I do,” Taesan replies and reaches for the basket to his right. It was much heavier before, full of fruits, hastily put-together sushi and sodden, cold noodles. They’d eaten all of it, their appetites voracious. “Aren’t you going to get up and give me a big, grand reaction, hyung?”
Jaehyun maintains his position for a few seconds before finally arranging himself upright, sitting across Taesan. His hair is beyond messy and he makes a half-hearted attempt to flatten it before giving up. Eyes on Taesan’s wrapped gift, he extends his hand.
“Go on,” Jaehyun says. “Hand it over.”
Taesan places the small box on his hand and watches patiently as he rips open the polka-dotted wrap and opens up the lid of the case within. Inside lies a keychain that Taesan himself made.
“No fucking way,” Jaehyun breathes out, a half-laugh escaping his mouth as he covers it with a hand, eyes widened in disbelief. “I cannot believe my eyes, Han Taesan! You did not just give me–this!”
Taesan presses his lips together, refusing to laugh, and nods seriously. “I not only gave it to you, I made it for you. Do you know how hard it was for me? How every atom of my body, the very fibre of my being was screaming against this?”
Jaehyun pulls out the keychain and clutches it tightly against his chest. The keyring is attached to a small cartoonish rendition of an animal. That animal is, unfortunately, a wolf. Taesan’s still not sure what overcame him to make this present–just that he knew it’d make Jaehyun happy.
“I knew you believed in me,” Jaehyun says primly, grinning. “Thanks alot, Taesanie. I’m gonna treasure this keychain forever and ever and ever. Will frame it on the wall and pass it to my descendants, make it a proper heirloom.”
“Your descendants will hate you,” Taesan says and his lips curve upwards into a lopsided smile.
“I’m going to be their most popular ancestor. Why would they hate me?”
“Because instead of money, you’ll leave them a keychain.”
“I can leave them both. Don’t be daft.”
“Right. Now, where’s my gift?”
Jaehyun’s expression falls, “My gift is not half as cool as yours.”
“You always say that,” Taesan says “And I always end up liking them.”
“It’s a tactic of mine,” Jaehyun replies as he rummages through his backpack and pulls out a squarish package. “Lowering your expectations so you end up liking whatever I give you.”
“How clever,” Taesan responds dryly and accepts the offered gift. He smoothly scrapes off the tape and unfurls the paper.
“Wrist warmers?” Taesan asks. They’re done in knitwork, a cool blue shade. “Thanks,” he says, and puts them on immediately. He’s been feeling cold for awhile now.
“Of course,” Jaehyun replies, fixing the keychain around one of his backpack zips. “You always complain about your wrists aching–you should really use the voice interpreter for lyric brainstorming. All that writing with no breaks is going to cause you trouble someday. So, anyway, I got you those. Like them?”
Taesan flexes his hands. The fabric is so soft against his skin, shielding him from the sharp, cold winds. “Definitely.”
Jaehyun’s phone rings. He picks up the call and engages in a brief conversation. Taesan starts gathering the bits of trash–empty foils, soiled spoons, used chopsticks–and places them in his basket.
“The car’s here,” Jaehyun says in a despondent voice. “Our time is over, Taesanie. What ever shall we do?”
“We shall go home,” Taesan says flatly.
Jaehyun pouts but joins him in the cleaning up and they fold up the mat together, stuffing it into Jaehyun’s backpack till it bulges. Soon, everything of the haphazard picnic space is cleared up, the only trace of them left in the temporary undulations of the sand. By morning, they’ll be gone, too.
“I love beaches so much,” Jaehyun says. He’s standing still, facing the ocean, his features illuminated by the barest flickers of sunset light. The moon is already visible in the sky–a slice of glittering white and silver against the stark black.
Taesan joins him, shoulder-to-shoulder, “Me too.”
Jaehyun takes a few steps forward and Taesan follows, till their feet are wet with the remnant water of crashing waves. Soon, the tides will change and the beach will be sealed off for the night.
“Let’s play one last round of the game,” Jaehyun says. “I’ll start: Boating sounds like a lot of work.”
Taesan looks at Jaehyun from the corner of his eyes. “I want to hold hands.”
“Train tracks are anxiety-inducing,” Jaehyun says, swiftly slipping his hand against Taesan’s, their fingers entwining.
“Mathematics is the most formal sounding subject name,” Taesan says.
“Plant-based perfumes smell the best but they don’t last too long.”
“A butterfly should be called a flutterfly.”
“Water has a taste. It tastes like the aftereffect of sweetness.”
“Mark Twain was a cool guy.”
Jaehyun squeezes his hand, and doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then, “I love Han Taesan.”
Taesan meets Jaehyun’s gaze, the softness of his wrist warmer against the softness of Jaehyun’s palm. “I love you, too, Jaehyun.”
“You lose,” Jaehyun says with a smile. “You said something related to what I said.”
“I don’t care,” Taesan replies, shrugging. “It’s the truth.”
In a minute, they’ve already turned around, hands still bound, walking up the shallow rise towards the road above. Taesan digs out his earphones and Jaehyun gets out his headphones and they listen to music together–different genres, different playlists, different moods. They sit on the same car row, the middle seat empty as they both look out the windows, seeing the blurred cityscape. But the space between them is filled out anyway, through their differences and similarities, through their opposing traits and shared interests. Through the myriad of ways they touch each other–physically, emotionally, differently.
Taesan leans into the cushioned carseat with a sigh. He’s content. He’s happy. Most of all, he is fulfilled. And he knows Jaehyun feels the same way.
He doesn’t close the gap between them. Because–and Taesan’s taken a long time to realise this–the gap never existed in the first place.