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"Y'know what? I think I hate this."
Junhui rolls his eyes as Minghao mutters disapprovingly, rubbing the straw-like strands of dry blond hair between his fingertips, lips turned down into a frown and scrunched brows marring his soft features. Junhui wants to run his thumb across the creases in Minghao’s forehead like he’s done countless times before, but today, he doesn’t.
"Well, it's not like I can do anything about it," Junhui huffs indignantly, "I’ve been blonde before anyway. Pre-debut blond was a thing."
"Yeah but it looked weird as shit then, and it looks weird as shit now,” Minghao points out with a tug on the wisps of stray hair at the part, “I dunno what they were thinking or what drugs they were taking before they decided to bring this back. I’m thinking either LSD or meth.”
“Hey, they dyed Wonwoo’s hair grey of all things and your hair is multicoloured.”
“That further proves my point that they were totally high y’know, but Wonwoo hyung’s wasn’t too bad and I actually look alright with weird hair colours, thank you very much.” Minghao shifts himself a little more towards Junhui on the couch. Their thighs touch through the ripped jeans they’re both wearing but Junhui barely pays any mind to it anymore. Minghao isn’t any closer than he usually is. “This though…” Minghao starts again but falls short, faltering as he motions to Junhui’s hair. “I dunno. It's just not a good look on you."
"Thanks Hao, you're the best." Minghao shrugs at Junhui’s sarcastic tone, but the smile pulling at the corners of his lips is enough to get Junhui smiling too. He wishes it wasn’t.
"I'm just telling you it how it is, hyung."
***
It’s weird. Junhui finds his own reflection staring back at him in the mirror when he steps out of the shower. He barely recognises himself with the glaringly bright blond mass on top of his head, and he doesn’t even realise he’s been standing there, water dripping off the strands of hair into his eyes until Minghao emerges from the shower and gives him an odd look through the reflection.
“You’re still here?” Minghao asks him, and it’s only then that Junhui realises that he’s already nearly completely dry. There’s only a couple droplets clinging to his body and falling from the tips of his hair onto his back and shoulders. He’s cold. “You got out about ten minutes ago,” the younger boy presses, “are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Junhui mumbles in a daze, taking the towel Minghao hands him, wrapping it tightly around his waist. He’s disoriented, but he doesn’t miss the concerned glance Minghao gives him out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry Minghao.”
“Hurry up,” Minghao tells him gently, taking a towel for himself, “the others are waiting.”
Junhui smiles. It’s empty - there’s really nothing behind it, and Minghao can probably tell when he looks at him. Junhui turns back to give one more look at his hair in the mirror before following Minghao out, eyes downcast and shoulders quaking.
***
“Why did yours come out so yellow?”
“I dunno Mingyu, maybe because I have asian hair, and asian hair gets brassy when you bleach it?”
Junhui doesn’t get why Mingyu’s suddenly sitting next to him on his bed at the dorms. He’s trying to read a book but a freakishly tall, hyperactive boy throwing himself over your lap whilst doing so it a little more than distracting. It’s also distracting when they start asking dumb questions.
“Yeah maybe,” Mingyu drawls, readjusting the way his head rests on Junhui’s thigh, “but it’s still really yellow. Nobody else’s hair was ever this yellow was it? Except Jeonghan before they dyed it again.”
“I don’t think they toned mine properly,” Junhui deadpans, dog-earing the book and setting it down beside him. There’s really no use in even trying to read anymore. “Why are you so fascinated with my hair all of a sudden, it’s not like I’m the first one to go blond - and it’s not even the first time. What’s your deal, Mingyu?”
“It’s nothing hyung,” Mingyu says quickly, eyes flickering over to the door before settling over on something across the room. Mingyu’s never been subtle. “Minghao was just talking to me about your hair earlier so I thought I’d check it out for myself.”
Junhui leans back and sighs in exasperation. He loves Mingyu - he really does - but sometimes the boy could be just a little obnoxious. Then again, living with a whole group of other teenage boys was never going to be smooth sailing. Junhui’s sure more than a few of them are annoyed with him too. “It’s been dyed for like, two days already.”
“You know it’s hard to even go to the bathroom. Don’t expect me to realise how yellow your hair is when we’re this busy.”
Junhui isn’t dumb by any means, so he knows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to think he does, because he keeps talking about how it took him two weeks before he realised that Jeonghan had stolen his favourite pillow. Mingyu’s eyes wander again, so Junhui follows. There’s long fingers poking out from the side of the door frame, and he knows exactly who they belong to. “Yeah,” Junhui breathes, “I guess so.”
***
“Hansol, do you think my hair is weird?”
Hansol raises a brow at him over Wonwoo’s shoulder in the back of the van. Wonwoo’s snoring softly and Junhui’s trying his best not to wake anyone but amazingly, Hansol still hears him despite that. He’s not sure if he’s thankful or not because he’s not sure where he’s going with this.
“Dude,” Hansol hisses at him, voice quiet because he probably doesn’t want to get shit for waking anyone up either, “why are you even asking me this?”
Junhui shrugs. “I’ve been getting some shit for it lately. Wanted your opinion.”
Hansol pauses for a moment, chewing on his lip. Junhui can’t read him - never really could - and it bothers him. “Are you alright?” Hansol finally asks, and the only thing Junhui can’t do is be honest.
“It’s not a big deal,” he says, “like I said, I just wanted your opinion.”
“Fair enough,” Hansol says slowly. Junhui can hear Minghao stirring behind him when the van hits a bump, and it’s as if he’s the only one who’s felt it. Everyone’s still sleeping soundly. “Well,” Hansol continues, looking behind him, “it looks fine.”
“Sure?”
“Absolutely.”
***
The bottled dye in Junhui’s hand is oddly heavy for plastic, but the presence of it in his grip probably weighs more than he does. He’s not exactly sure if dyeing everything jet black would make things better or worse. He’s not exactly sure if he can do it either. He’s shaking. Everything’s already mixed up, the dye colouring the clear plastic a deep grey and he’s terrified that he’ll mess everything up. Make everything worse.
Junhui’s not sure if he can go through with it. Management would have his ass on a platter; maybe terminate his contract or something. He eventually backs out after he hears someone singing softly outside the door. They shouldn’t be there. It’s too early.
Junhui leaves the bottle there in the bathroom, still full of dye, stuffed back into its packaging and wrapped in plastic bags. Junhui doesn’t realise it’s missing when he walks in the next day, and he doesn’t realise the light stains on Minghao’s palms until he’s holding them in his own.
***
It’s a cold night, but Minghao’s sitting on the tiled floor in the middle of the kitchen, pyjama clad legs pulled up to his chest as he tries his best to down a full bottle of vodka that’d been stashed in one of the cupboards for god knows how long. Junhui remembers Jisoo buying it to experiment with alcohol or something a while ago, although nobody had ever made an effort to drink it until now.
Junhui’s not exactly sure what to do. He was looking for Minghao, but never expected to find him kissing the lips of a vodka bottle in the middle of the night. He inches his way closer to the frail boy on the ground and gingerly pulls the bottle out of his hands. Minghao doesn’t offer any resistance, instead looking up at Junhui with tired eyes and parted lips. Junhui can’t see the liquid in the bottle clearly, but it’s still heavy. Minghao hasn’t had much.
“Hyung,” Minghao’s voice calls out. It’s dark and his voice sounds so strained in the moonlight. Junhui knows that it’s not because of the vodka. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” Junhui asks. He places the vodka down and settles himself next to Minghao. As close as possible. Minghao looks conflicted, eyes reflecting the dim light streaming in from the windows. Junhui catches him glancing at his hair before his eyes land in his own lap.
“Nevermind.”
Junhui huffs, leaning back against the wall behind them as he reaches over to grab the vodka back off the floor. He takes a drink. “You’ve gotta tell me Hao,” Junhui croaks, throat burning, “you can’t just tell me it’s nothing after I find you like this. It’s not because of the drinking either, so what are you sorry for?”
Minghao shrugs, but doesn’t look up. “I just feel horrible for saying it looks bad. I didn’t mean for you to be so self conscious about it.”
Oh . Junhui lets out a soft laugh, putting the bottle down next to him without much care. “It’s fine,” he says, “really.” A hand lays itself on his lap and Junhui follows the arm back to Minghao, Junhui’s gaze softening as Minghao’s brows knit together. Junhui smiles. “You don’t have to look so worried about me.”
Minghao looks unconvinced as he reaches over to take the bottle of vodka back from Junhui’s grasp, but he doesn’t drink from it, instead capping it and putting it off to the other side of him - out of Junhui’s reach. “I know you’re not as confident in yourself as you’d like people to think,” Minghao tells him, “I know you, hyung.”
Junhui’s not exactly sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He leans his head against Minghao’s shoulder. It hurts. Minghao’s not the most comfortable person to lean on, but it’s alright. Junhui doesn’t mind.
“You look good,” Minghao’s voice speaks up. Junhui can feel fingers in his hair, carefully brushing the strands back. There’s a warm feeling in his gut, and even though he knows why it’s there, he refuses to acknowledge it. “You always look good.”
“Why are you so concerned about this all of a sudden?” Junhui asks, voice just a little louder then inaudible, chest rumbling in the silence. Minghao stalls, nuzzling into Junhui’s hair before he replies, voice muffled.
“I’ve seen you over the past couple of days,” Minghao sighs, breath hot against the roots of Junhui’s hair. “Really though, you don’t look bad. You’re still hot as fuck.” Junhui can’t help but laugh at that, loud noise in a seemingly empty house. “I’m being honest!” Minghao protests weakly, hitting Junhui’s arm and recoiling when Junhui swats him back. “You’re beautiful no matter what hair you have or whatever.”
“That’s cute of you,” Junhui gripes playfully, nudging the boy with his elbow a little.
“Shut up,” Minghao retaliates, but he’s smiling now, eyes sparkling as his fingers skirt along the back of Junhui’s neck, “you know what I mean.” Junhui shrugs, and Minghao carefully rests his head on Junhui’s shoulder instead, burrowing his nose into the crook of Junhui’s neck. He exhales, breath tickling the edges of Junhui’s collarbones, and the older boy leans down to press his lips against Minghao’s forehead.
Minghao leans into the touch, barely pressing forward before Junhui moves away. Minghao looks up, leans in and presses his fingers into the flesh of Junhui’s thigh to steady himself in the dark. Junhui moves too, fingers curling around the back of Minghao’s neck, but there’s something there in the atmosphere that makes them pause; think twice. “Hyung,” Minghao whispers softly. Junhui can already taste the alcohol on the boy’s lips. “We shouldn’t.”
Minghao doesn’t make an attempt to move yet, even when Junhui lets go. “I know,” he says, and he does. He knows they shouldn’t. Minghao moves away first, curling back against Junhui’s side, head resting gently on his shoulder like before, and Junhui’s lips find their way back to his forehead, nose pressed into the boy’s hairline. “Hey,” Junhui calls out into the darkness. It’s silent again, but he knows Minghao is listening, just like he always does. “Thank you,” he tells him again, but it’s almost like he already knows. They both know.
“I’m just telling you how it is, hyung.”