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There’s always something in the air (or water) at concerts.
All of them are no stranger to how charged they feel both during and after, all of them almost thrumming with it, even after three whole hours of hardcore performance.
Jisung thinks he can’t be blamed for acting up; there’s a certain delight in hearing the delighted screams from the fans when he lets himself linger around the other members like the scent of rain after a storm, or the laughter when he plays up his own theatrics when someone inevitably starts a water fight.
This time, he thinks, he can’t be blamed for it.
Not when Hyunjin is the devil incarnate; sweet as sin with temptation in his being.
He can’t be blamed for coming up to a sitting Hyunjin to rap his verse in Topline, can’t be blamed for slinging an arm around him, can’t be blamed for the way he yanks him so close that their sweat gleams on the other’s hair, until they’re breathing in each other’s exhalations.
He definitely can’t be blamed for the way he acts when he sees Hyunjin’s eyes gleam with promise, all fire and electricity with the way they flit from his eyes to his lips, smiling his razor-edged smile the whole way.
He lets himself get up and leave when his verse is over and when Hyunjin raises the mic to the lips he’s been staring at for his whole verse, letting his feet carry him elsewhere before he can do something reckless like turn his head to let Hyunjin shove his tongue down his throat, before he can-
He shakes his head. Not the time to get a boner when there are thousands of fans screaming their names.
Hyunjin corners him right before he’s needed to go back on stage for his solo, glistening with sweat and carrying the same devil’s smile.
“Hey Hannie-yah.” He smirks, and Jisung feels rather much like a cornered squirrel facing a tiger.
“That’s me.” He tries to say, but the syllables slip and fall out of his mouth, a far cry from the tone he’d been aiming for. Hyunjin’s grin widens, a lazy and smug thing that sends his flight or fight instincts up to the forefront of his head. “Need something, jagiya?”
Hyunjin waves a hand, artful nonchalance colouring it all. “Maybe, but I think you’d want it more.”
His heart’s in his throat. The last chorus of Back Door is halfway done. Time almost seems to slow to a halt.
Hyunjin’s gaze smoulders and burns. “After we’re all clean, come to mine tonight?”
He tries to answer, but the words are stoppered by his own heart. He raises a shaky hand, barely managing to flash the universal sign for “okay” with a nod before he can hear the staff calling for him.
Hyunjin’s smile returns to something more fond.
“Break a leg, jagiya.”
He flashes his usual cocky grin over his shoulder, then bolts to position, shaking the tension out of his shoulder as he does.
He’s got a long way more.
The rest of the concert passes in a blur.
He swears his brain’s reduced to mush and soup for the remainder of the songs, he swears the lyrics are almost always just out of his reach (thank God for the screens that flash the lyrics of the songs for moments like these), he swears that Hyunjin’s always lingering around him like smoke after a blaze.
The last point is the worst for his steadily dwindling sanity.
He swears Chan even tries to kiss him at one point too, no doubt riding the high that only concerts can bring, and then Hyunjin’s scent surrounds him again, an arm slinging around his neck to drag him so close that he swears that he can almost count every last drop of sweat glistening on him.
There’s promise in this hold though. There’s that reckless kind of charge that lives under their skin, there’s that tightening grip hidden behind the faux nonchalance of it all.
There’s no time to say anything, but Jisung thinks he knows what Hyunjin’s saying.
Mine.
He’s barely stumbled into Hyunjin’s room when he’s being pressed right up against the door, hands scrabbling for something to grab on when plush lips devour his. The ends of Hyunjin’s still damp hair tickle his cheeks, and his breath is hot against it.
“You drive me insane.” Hyunjin pants between kisses. “Strutting all around stage, nearly letting me shove my tongue down your throat. What the fuck are you doing to me, my Jisungie?”
“Says you?” He gasps back, fists grasping then letting go of Hyunjin’s shirt. He whimpers a little when Hyunjin starts to kiss down his throat, gasps again when a kiss is solidly pressed against his quivering Adam’s apple. “How am I supposed to think of anything else when you exist?”
He feels a smile ghost against his clavicle. “Sounds like I live in your mind, hm? You’re so bad for my heart, baby.”
“You don’t even know half of it, my Hyunjinnie. You say that as if you don’t know how you practically live in mine.”
Hyunjin draws back at that, studying him with eyes black as pitch, with a gaze like smouldering coals. His hand comes up to Jisung’s chin, turning his head this way and that while Jisung lets himself go limp, nearly hitting the ground if not for the grip on his chin and the other hand burning a brand onto his hip.
He feels distinctly like prey, especially when Hyunjin’s smile sharpens into something bright and wicked.
“Is that so?” He almost purrs, and Jisung nods frantically. “Tell me about it, every last detail.”
He barely registers how they get to the bed, but he blinks up at Hyunjin once he hits the sheets, grounds some of the tension out of his shoulders, a goofy grin pulling at his lips.
“Hey.”
Hyunjin smiles down at him, nuzzling into the touch when Jisung reaches a hand up to tuck a lock behind his ears. “Hey handsome.”
“You’re terrible for my heart.”
“I know,” Hyunjin drops his voice to a whisper, “you’re a terror for mine too.”
“Really?” He whispers back, shifting onto his side when Hyunjin flops down onto the other side of the bed, blinking at him.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin breathes, closing his eyes as if to calm himself before he opens his eyes again, “you drive me insane. I want to pick you up and fit you behind my teeth.”
Jisung giggles, darting forward to leave a peck on Hyunjin’s nose. “I’d want that, maybe.”
Hyunjin hums, something bright and delighted as he sets a hand on Jisung’s hip, digging his fingers in that specific way he uses when he wants him close.
“Jagiya?” Jisung hums back in response, warmth fizzling up his chest. “Can we kiss?”
He doesn’t bother with a response, only leaning in closer to connect their lips again, draping an arm over Hyunjin’s side to cup the back of his head to bring him close, tangling his fingers into long black hair as Hyunjin’s tongue slips into his mouth.
To him, it just feels like home. Even if the sheets feel too starched and new and pristine, even if the room’s temperature is lower than he’d like, even if the signs outside the window are in a language he doesn’t know.
Everything feels like home when he’s with Hyunjin.
And with the way that Hyunjin tugs him closer, he thinks that his sentiment’s reciprocated.
“My Jisungie.” Hyunjin sighs out when they part for air, keeping a hand on his cheek, preventing him from leaning forward to steal another kiss. Jisung makes a noise of loss, but stays still even if they both know he could shake off Hyunjin’s hand himself.
“You still haven’t told me why you’d want to live in my heart.”
Jisung blinks at him. Hyunjin looks right back at him, and he tries to rearrange the thoughts into coherent words.
“Everywhere’s home with you,” is what he settles on to start, his eyes shut to make words form easier, “like- we’re almost two thousand kilometres from home and I still think it’s like home. I think I can always come back to you and feel comfortable.”
“I wanna live in your heart because you’re kind,” he continues, fully aware he’s babbling, “um- I just think that you’re someone precious and you’d give me shelter even if like- I was some scraggly stray you found on the side of the street.”
“I just wanna stay close to you. I want to be remembered as a person loving you. You’ve got loads of them, we’ve got loads of them but I want to be first in your heart.”
He trails off just to stare into glittering eyes, then shuts them again when plush lips and a hint of salt meet his own swollen ones.
He can feel a hand tracing something on his back too, and he knows the sensation of this one so well that he doesn’t pause to comprehend it, already starting to trace it back.
Thank you. I love you.