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It starts, like it always does, with a small itch. It’s just the base of his throat, the space between his fingers, but Seonghwa knows what it means. He keeps a bottle of lotion in every bag and lathers his hands in it, coats his neck in the stuff, and yet it still doesn’t help. It’s not as though he can stop mid-stage to apply lotion to his dehydrated hands, and his stage makeup aggravates his eczema without fail.
Wooyoung is the first to notice, pulling him into his side when they’re in between shows, holding his hands to prevent him from scratching even when it burns. He keeps an extra bottle of lotion in his bag and passes it to Seonghwa every time he sees his hands twitching towards his neck. Later, he’s sure he’ll be teased for needing his junior to take care of him, but not now, not while his skin is peeling and he’s scratching it in his sleep.
Wooyoung is the first to notice, but Hongjoong is the one that he complains to.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to be weak in front of the other members, not exactly, it’s more so that they have enough on their minds; they don’t need to worry about him, not when they have a busy schedule and a thousand things to think about.
Besides, they’re his juniors. He doesn’t want to worry them too much.
“I hate the way the lotion feels,” Seonghwa whines, rubbing another glob into his neck with a grimace. His eczema is especially bad this time, exasperated by the travel and the stages and the heat and the temperature changes and a thousand other reasons.
“It helps though, doesn’t it?” Hongjoong doesn’t look up from his laptop, frowning slightly at the screen as he works.
Seonghwa sighs. “Yes. I just wish it wasn’t so unpleasant. It makes my hands feel so greasy afterwards.”
“I’ll do it for you,” Hongjoong offers, seemingly unthinking. He processes what he’s said a few moments later, his head whipping up to fix Seonghwa with a wide, terrified gaze.
Seonghwa should be offended that Hongjoong is so afraid of touching him that he looks as though he’s just been sentenced to death, but instead he feels only a begrudging fondness. This is Hongjoong, after all, who wrote a song for him and meets his eyes from across the room to check in, who gets petulantly jealous when Seonghwa has friends he doesn’t know about.
He loves him in so many small ways; he can hardly begrudge him for being too nervous to touch him.
Seonghwa laughs, the panicked look in Hongjoong’s eyes fading when he’s amused instead of offended. “You don’t have to,” he says. “But thank you for offering.”
Hongjoong’s jaw tightens, and he presses a few keys on his laptop before setting it aside. “I want to,” he says, his voice firm.
“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa repeats, gently. “If I really needed help, I would ask. I’m just complaining.”
Hongjoong stands. “I want to,” he repeats.
This thing between them is new, to say the least. They’re still growing into it, still learning what it means for them to be more than they were. They’ve been taking it slow. To an outsider, it would likely look like nothing had changed, but for Seonghwa, everything feels monumentally changed.
Hongjoong watches him without guilt now, lets his eyes follow him around the room with a fondness that he no longer hides from.
“If you’re sure,” Seonghwa says.
Hongjoong nods firmly and crosses the room easily, sitting down at the edge of Seonghwa’s bed. He holds out a hand for the lotion and, after a brief pause, Seonghwa places it into his waiting hand.
It’s not that Hongjoong isn’t affectionate; he is. They don’t often get the chance to sleep in the same bed together, but Hongjoong will often stay until he falls asleep, and Seonghwa has woken from a shallow slumber to the feeling of lips on his forehead many times. But Hongjoong is affectionate in the way a stray cat is, or a nervous dog. He sits near Seonghwa, he presses their shoulders together, he catches his eye across the room just to make sure that Seonghwa sees him smile at him.
This is different. More charged and domestic.
Hongjoong is so close to him all of a sudden, leaning forward with his brows furrowed as he gently dabs at his neck, rubbing the lotion in carefully. Seonghwa shivers. Hongjoong’s hands are broad and warm, careful in the way that he works the lotion into his skin. He tips his head back with a sigh to give Hongjoong better access.
His skin crawls with the urge to itch at the eczema on his neck, but he forces himself not to move. “Thank you.”
Hongjoong lets out a small, pleased hum. Seonghwa’s gaze darts back to him and he’s rewarded with the sight of Hongjoong looking adorably focused, his eyes narrowed and his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth slightly.
When he sits back, the itch in his neck has subsided slightly, although he still wants to dig his fingers into his skin and rip, as though he could pull the itch out if he just tried hard enough.
“Better?” Hongjoong asks. “Do you need more?”
Seonghwa considers. His neck will probably need more in a bit, but right now it feels as good as it can. “My hands,” he says, almost shyly.
He presents them to Hongjoong as though the other man has never seen his hands before. They’re not as bad as they have been in the past, but his knuckles are red and painfully dry, not quite to the point of cracking but getting close.
Seemingly without realizing, Hongjoong makes a low, concerned noise and reaches out to take one of his hands, squirting the lotion onto it and carefully working it into his fingers.
Seonghwa smiles. “You’re being very sweet, you know,” he teases.
Hongjoong ducks his head, his cheeks already turning a little pink. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
He can hardly tease him for that, can he? Seonghwa laces their fingers together and squeezes. “It’s not so bad, really.” He pauses, unsure exactly how much affection Hongjoong will stomach before he grows uneasy with it. “It’s better when you help.”
Hongjoong beams; his smile brighter than the sun. He’s the one that moves first, leaning forward to kiss him. It’s barely a kiss, almost embarrassingly chaste, but it’s sweet and gentle, and after a long day performing that’s all he could ask for. Seonghwa kisses back eagerly, melting into Hongjoong’s touch with an eager sigh.
When they pull apart, Hongjoong presses their foreheads together, breathing heavily. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
It’s perhaps too heavy of a declaration for such a simple act of intimacy, but Hongjoong has never done anything by halves. Seonghwa leans in to kiss him again, their lips making a soft, slick sound in the quiet of the hotel room. Hongjoong breaks away to kiss him on the cheek, squeezing his hand firmly.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go to bed.”
It’s foolish, to indulge in this, but he’s tired and his neck itches and Hongjoong is a warm and soothing presence at his side. Seonghwa smiles and kisses him once more, just a quick peck. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
Hongjoong lays back in bed and pulls him into his arms, covering them both with the comforter. Seonghwa scoots until his head is nestled under Hongjoong’s jaw. Hongjoong kisses him gently on the top of the head, then wraps an arm securely around his waist and turns the lamp off, cushioning them both in a peaceful darkness.