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An evening split in half with two men on either side of it: Dongmin asleep, Donghyun awake. Moonlight seeps in through the transparent curtains, douses the room in blue, rendering it a serene capsule in time where Donghyun can freely observe the angles of Dongmin’s face.
He reaches out a hand, uses it to lightly trail over Dongmin’s lips. These are the same lips, he thinks, that unexpectedly formed the words ‘I love him’ just hours ago, gentle, firm.
The gift of memory allows Donghyun to replay it in his mind.
I love him I love him I love him.
Maybe Donghyun's reaction had been too crass. Immediately, as though a force was ripping itself out of him, he returned the sentiment a little louder than intended, beaming from ear to ear in a way that was unusual enough for Sanghyeok to notice, his body unable to remain still, both butterflies and adrenaline clouding his judgment to the point of nearly forgetting about the cameras that were still rolling. “I love you!” he said back with conviction; “I love you so much!” he added with genuinity once he saw the way Dongmin was failing to contain his smile.
Donghyun moves his hand upwards. He lingers over the tip of Dongmin’s nose, feeling the air of his unconscious breathing, before making his way to the bridge and eventually the peak of his left cheekbone, smoothing his thumb over it, relishing the softness of his skin.
Those three words, though heavy, were easy for him to say (there had never been a question of whether Donghyun loves him or not because the answer had always been yes; loving Dongmin comes as naturally to him as opening his eyes in the morning, as naturally to him as breathing), but he suspects it wasn't for Dongmin. It’s why they hadn't exchanged them sooner: Dongmin is guarded with his emotions, selective with what he chooses to show—something as delicate as love should be protected with certainty, reserved for the appropriate moment, even if said moment takes months to appear.
He continues caressing Dongmin’s cheek, back and forth, back and forth.
Was it too soon for him?
He smiled when Donghyun returned it: a sign of comfort.
But he also avoided any mention of it once filming ended: a sign of discomfort.
Maybe Dongmin was already planning to say it, but the game caused it to happen prematurely. Maybe Dongmin wasn't planning to, and the game caused him to say something he didn't feel, riddling him with too much guilt to talk about it during the ride home. Maybe neither of those scenarios are likely, and Dongmin had meant what he said but in a platonic sense, which is why he said it so confidently.
But Dongmin always tries to appear confident.
Maybe it didn't mean anything.
Donghyun can't tell anymore.
Dongmin stirs with a sigh; Donghyun quickly removes his hand. Even the motions of his body are enough to increase Donghyun’s heart rate, because it reminds him that he's alive, and each muscle that allows him to move is a muscle that makes up the man he loves, those same muscles that allow his arms to encase Donghyun with warmth, those same muscles that allow his lips to adorn Donghyun in gentle kisses that leave him reeling for hours.
Donghyun loves him. There isn't a doubt about it.
Dongmin said he loves him too. It's impossible to discern the true intention behind it.
Dongmin, with both eyes still closed, speaks.
“What are you doing?”
Donghyun pales, stiffens. “Uh…”
“What time is it?”
“I think it's 2…”
Donghyun already knows what the next question is; he answers it: “I can't sleep.”
Dongmin buries his face further into the pillow. “Why not?”
Just ask. Rip the bandaid off, settle the building self-doubt before it fizzles over into something untamable. There isn't any shame in wanting to know—he deserves to know.
It's too heavy of a question to ask someone who's barely awake (or maybe he's been awake this entire time, who knows)—he should wait.
No. Maybe. He doesn't know.
Just ask.
“It's just—I'm just thinking about today.”
A groggy hum. “What about today?”
“What we filmed today. The game we played.”
Silence.
A signal for him to elaborate.
Just. Ask.
“You said you love me,” he blurts out, shaky. “But I don't know if you meant it.”
Dongmin’s eyes open at that. They’re dark in the room’s blue yet intense and piercing as they become accompanied by knitted eyebrows. It’s an expression that conveys everything and nothing at once, sending Donghyun’s brain into overdrive, because what is he confused (?) about? Should the answer already be obvious? Should he have taken Dongmin’s silence as a sign that he should be silent as well?
He doesn't know. He only knows the embarrassment burning in the center of his chest now, accentuated by the drumming of his heart against his ribcage, deafening and shameful.
Why did he ask?
“Donghyun,” is how Dongmin starts (and Donghyun braces himself, the weight of Dongmin’s attention and voice and nearness suddenly suffocating him). “Of course I meant it. I love you. Why wouldn't I mean that?”
I love him I love him I love him.
He loves him.
Of course he meant that. Why wouldn't he?
A jagged stream of words that rapidly fall out of Donghyun: “Well, I mean, I know you were waiting for the right time to say it and, like, I figured in front of everyone and a bunch of cameras probably wasn't your idea of a right time, so I just wasn't sure if you said it just to say it or if I somehow ruined the specialness or…I don't know…”
A few beats of silence pass while Dongmin processes the spiel, the anxious words hanging in the air, the curse of memory allowing Donghyun to replay his nonsensical explanation in his mind.
Suddenly, a smile, both faint and loving.
“That was the right time. It felt right. It felt like I needed you to know right then and there because I didn't want to play it off.”
“But you hesitated.”
“It was a game.”
“Yeah, but—”
Stop.
He meant it. That should be enough.
“Then why didn't you want to talk about it?”
A shrug. “We love each other. That's pretty self-explanatory, right? I don't see what there is to talk about.”
Donghyun can think of several things, like how he had been waiting for what feels like an eternity to hear those words, and how he frequently imagined it, and how he exploded with excitement and joy when it finally happened, and how he wished it lasted just a little longer once it was over, how the shortness of it made it feel more like a compliment than a declaration, how that paired with the lack of communication created room for something sinister to brew within him.
But he realizes now that the silence was proof of Dongmin’s own sureness, of his own way of loving so naturally that he doesn't have to explain it, much like one doesn't have to explain the manner in which they place one foot in front of the other to walk.
He meant it.
Dongmin leans over, places a chaste kiss on Donghyun’s cheek. “I love you.”
The force from earlier rears its head; Donghyun can't help the light that surges through him in response, causing him to practically leap over, covering Dongmin’s face with kisses in every place he can reach. “I love you!” he says through a fit of inoffensive laughter. “I love you.”
Their lips inevitably connect; a playful kiss with clumsy tongues soon turns passionate, as if to provide support for their claims, slow and calculated and meaningful, Donghyun moving a hand to Dongmin’s hair which prompts Dongmin to seemingly come back to himself, gently pushing Donghyun off of him.
“Okay, okay,” he returns to his side, closing his eyes and repositioning himself onto his pillow. “I love you. Now go to sleep.”
It would be a miracle if sleep could take hold of Donghyun now, his anxieties now a frenzy of affection, but he listens anyway, inching closer to Dongmin and resting his head on the same pillow, his arms snaking around his waist to pull him near.
He can't help himself. He says it again, a whisper.
“I love you.”