Work Text:
Sungho is just about to finish off his eyeliner when his CD player stops: cruelly expecting Nayeon’s opening lines of More & More to play and instead hearing the slow whirring of the disc spinning to a halt. He places the eyeliner pen back in its lid as he whines, trudging over to press the loop button. Once Nayeon is singing again, he plops himself back down on the floor, centimetres from his standing mirror. This is why he gets ready two hours early, to account for crises like this.
He sits upright, catching his eye in the mirror, and his hand pauses on its way over to the box of Q-tips sitting to his left. He flicks his face from one side to the other as he examines what he expects to be a blob of black the size of his eyebrow on his right eyelid, but is surprisingly perfectly even. He holds a hand to his heart and looks over to Tzuyu, tearing up at her thoughtfulness. She is too busy spinning really quickly on the front of the CD to say anything back, but he knows she appreciates it.
It’s halfway through Firework when Sungho hums in contentment, finished with his work. He left his upper eyelids a simple, dusted brown, but highlighted his under-eye with a neutral, sparkly eyeshadow to match the pink lip gloss he’s picked out. That can go on later, though.
He slips his Hello Kitty hair clip out, letting his hair flop onto his face, the ends brushing the peaks of his tinted cheeks. He gasps.
“Donghyunie?” Sungho sings, leaning as far out of the open door as he can without getting up.
He hears shuffling from the living room and smiles. A couple of seconds later, he sees shark-slippered feet step through the door and looks up to a smiling Donghyun, hair a mess of yellow. He’s like the sun but better because you can look at him forever and ever.
“Can I put blush on you?”
Donghyun steps properly into the room and crouches next to Sungho, shark slippers flat on the floor and his knees hugged against his chest, presenting his face to Sungho. Sungho thinks he’s like the entire universe but better.
Sungho shakes with excitement as he turns around to face Donghyun, blush and brush in hand. Donghyun closes his eyes and fiddles with the little fins on his slippers. He giggles when, Sungho guesses, the brush tickles him. Sungho stares, unfocused and unblinking, at Donghyun’s cheeks so he doesn’t cry and ruin his makeup. He can do this.
Sungho sits back once he’s finished and Donghyun mimics him, falling backwards out of his crouch with a plonk to sit on the floor. He’s smiling widely at Sungho to show off his cheeks. Sungho cannot do this.
“No!” Sungho cries, covering his eyes. “Stop it. It’s not fair,” he pouts. Donghyun giggles again. Salt in the wound. Sungho falls back onto the floor as Donghyun’s laugh gets goofier, turning into cackles that come at irregular times like he’s forgetting to breathe between them.
“Nooooo,” Sungho whines again, desperate.
It’s then that the door creaks and Sungho shoots upright to see his saviour, someone to save his makeup from a teary end.
“What are we crying about?” Sanghyeok peers his head around the door, and Sungho’s breath is yanked out of him as a wheeze, hand shooting up to cover it.
Sanghyeok is wearing a face mask, the kind that comes in one piece and you drape it over your face. The kind Sungho uses a lot; he has dozens stashed in a box in his wardrobe. The mask is stuck around his features in the way they always do, distorting them in the familiar silly ways Sungho’s seen hundreds of times.
He guesses it’s just funnier when it’s Sanghyeok.
“You,” Sungho whines, looking between the two of them as Sanghyeok moves to stand behind Donghyun. “You two are gonna be the death of me.”
Sanghyeok smirks and holds a hand out for Donghyun to high-five. Sungho thinks about kicking Sanghyeok’s leg… he could definitely reach it; with a quick swing around his calf and then a pull from behind… But Donghyun’s giggling again so he’d be at a disadvantage.
“I put blush on the baby,” Sungho says instead, defeated. Sanghyeok owes the baby his life.
Donghyun looks up at Sanghyeok and smiles at his upside-down, face-masked face. Sungho watches Sanghyeok’s eyes light up. Life is cruel, sometimes.
“Sungho should do yours!” Donghyun suggests, his voice cutely croaky from having his head leaned back, the crown of it bouncing off of Sanghyeok’s thigh.
Sanghyeok glances back to Sungho. Sungho’s more prepared for it this time, but he still has to suppress a laugh.
“I can’t do anything over the face mask.”
“Oh, this is done,” Sanghyeok says, pulling off the mask. He starts to fold it, once, twice, in his hands as he moves to the door. “I’ll be two seconds.”
He returns, as promised, face maskless and dried. Sungho notices there’s no shiny residue on his hands either. Sanghyeok plants himself on the floor, the three of them sitting in a makeshift circle, well, triangle.
“What are you gonna do to me?” Sanghyeok asks, head tilted and leant close to Sungho’s. He smells like pomegranate.
Sungho’s hands flutter above all of his makeup supplies surrounding him, and he can’t think of what to do with any of them. He eventually finds the blush he used for Donghyun and fiddles with it in his fingers, looking back at Sanghyeok, who meets his eyes. His skin is glowing from the face mask, and probably soft too from how it’s shining.
He drops the blush and picks up his eyeliner pen, uncapping it as Sanghyeok leans forward again. He places his free hand on Sanghyeok’s chin, directing it gently to the right and begins to draw on Sanghyeok’s cheekbone, just under the outer corner of his eye.
Sungho sits back with a hum, a second later, nodding to the mirror.
Sanghyeok swings to face the mirror to look at the small black heart dotted on his cheek. He smiles and the heart soars up to crinkle in his smile lines.
“It is beautiful,” Sanghyeok cheers, winking with the right eye, the heart squishing too. “Thank you, Sungho.”
Sungho smiles as he starts to stack some of his makeup to carry it over to the cabinet.
“Anything for my babies.” Sungho blows a kiss in between them and watches Sanghyeok catch it out of the air and hand it to Donghyun.
“Now, get out of my room.”
Sanghyeok laughs loudly and pushes himself up from the floor. “What time are you meeting your friends?”
“The noraebang is booked for seven,” Sungho answers, crouching for the next batch of makeup to transport. “Though, Keeho is always late, that bitch.”
Sanghyeok snorts. “I can drive you.”
Sungho pauses mid-delivery, his eyeshadow pallets hugged to his chest. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Sanghyeok hums. “I owe Donghyunie ice cream, anyway.”
Donghyun jumps up from the floor with a grin, suddenly a head taller than Sanghyeok.
“Let me know when you want to go,” Sanghyeok smiles as he slips out of the door, Donghyun following him.
Sanghyeok hands Donghyun his phone once they’re in the car, so Sungho’s view from the backseat window is scored with some soft jazz. Sungho can’t make out many of the English lyrics, but listens to Donghyun mumble along.
The city lights blur into multi-coloured bubbles in Sungho’s vision, fighting for their places against the dimming sunlight. February is almost through now, though, pushing the darkness further and further back each day. The vibes are so calm and romantic that it’s easy to ignore the jostling of the car as Sanghyeok speeds around each corner.
Sungho zones back into his surroundings a street over from the noraebang place, and opens up his cross-bag to double-check he has everything. Phone. Wallet he hopes he won’t have to use. Lip balm. Lip gloss.
The second Sanghyeok pulls up to the curb, Sungho shuffles into the middle seat and catches his reflection in the rear-view mirror, uncapping his lip gloss. He applies it quickly, putting it back in his bag in seconds, and leans forward between the front seats. Donghyun turns to him, Sanghyeok’s gaze moving from the mirror a moment later.
“Thank you for driving,” Sungho says to Sanghyeok, kissing his cheek.
He turns and kisses Donghyun’s. “And thank you for being.”
Sungho giggles to himself at the shiny residue on their cheeks. “Bye!”
“Call me when to pick you up!” Sanghyeok calls as Sungho steps onto the pavement.
“I will! Love you!”
Sungho closes the door softly, and quickly rushes into the building with a last wave. It may be warming up day by day but the cold still cut through his, admittedly thin, sweater, its large size exposing his collar slightly to the wind. As he shivers the last of the cold off of him, he pulls out his phone and clicks into a group chat.
seungmin
room 5 peoples 🤩🤯😈🤟
He smiles politely to the staff at the reception desk as he starts down the hallway to the aforementioned room 5, opening the door to find Seungmin lying on his back across one side of the couch that rims the whole room, head hanging off the edge of the seat. A mic is held up to his mouth as he sings Aespa’s Spicy, probably unable to read the lyrics on the screen upside down but, from Sungho’s memory, not needing them at all to nail it.
Sungho is glad the walls are soundproof with the way Keeho and Taeyang scream into the mics in their hands as a greeting. Following the standard procedure, Sungho poses a couple of times as the door closes behind him, hyped up by Seungmin’s loud singing and the others’ cheers, before sinking onto the empty spot on the couch.
“I’m officially here earlier than you today,” Keeho announces after they applaud Seungmin’s performance and he bows at each of them individually from where he’s sat: upright again, and hair even more so, giving him an extra inch in height. “You cannot say shit to me anymore.”
Sungho snorts. “Well, I had a lift today,” he boasts, shifting in his seat to straighten up further. “So I didn’t have to get an early bus.”
Keeho groans, letting his head fall against the back of the couch. “If only I had a hot roommate with a car.”
Taeyang pulls on one side of Keeho’s open button-up shirt with a delicate hand, not-so-accidentally brushing against Keeho’s chest as he plays with it. “You could be the hot roommate with a car.”
Sungho watches in real time Keeho’s face light up, and then crash and fall when he realises Taeyang is the one benefiting from that suggestion.
“You whore,” he breathes out in annoyance, slumping further into the couch.
Taeyang drops Keeho’s shirt, laughing brightly, unfazed that his flirting didn’t work this time. Sungho wonders how high his success rate is… he should probably take notes. For future reference, of course.
“What are you singing for us?” Seungmin asks, tablet in hand.
Sungho rubs his hands on the top of his jeans as he stands.
“Throw me a Twice.”
His friends are used to this party trick by now: Sungho expertly singing a random Twice song they play for him, not looking at the screen when he’s particularly confident, and doing parts of the choreography if there is some. They may be used to it but are still impressed, readying themselves in their seats to watch a performance.
Seungmin presses play and nods to him. He hears the notable clock-ticks of the percussion and latches onto the melody of First Time from the first line, not needing to turn around for the lyrics at all.
Although it’s a national tragedy that this song doesn’t have choreography, and that Momo could change that in the matter of an afternoon if JYP cared about him at all, but it does mean he’s free to dance around as he pleases, and react to his friends cheers. He sacrifices the very end of Nayeon’s chorus to slip into Jihyo’s “let me hear you say ‘hey’", and with a quick swing of his mic towards his friends, they shout back their parts. Sungho wants to tear up with pride, but he’s a professional, so he sends hand-hearts and gets back into his performance. His friends continue to make their lines with little more than a gesture from Sungho, and Sungho finishes up cleanly, posing in Tzuyu’s honour.
“You’re welcome,” Sungho says amongst the yells and cheers of his friends, curtseying before making his way back to the couch. A pop-rock song Sungho doesn’t recognise starts, and Seungmin hands Sungho the tablet, freeing his hands to air-guitar the intro. He hoots absentmindedly for Seungmin as he scrolls on the tablet screen, already open on the cocktail menu.
They order 3 pitchers to share, two generically orange-tinted and tropical-smelling, and one blue-purple one which Sungho smells, immediately shivers at, and hands to Keeho.
“Girl, what is in that?” Keeho scrunches his nose and moves the pitcher away from his face as quickly as he can without spilling it.
Seungmin leans forward to take his monstrosity out of Keeho’s hands. “Fuck knows.” He punctuates it with the rattling of ice as he puts his metal straw straight into the pitcher, knowing none of them will be quick to drink it.
The other two, however, are being drained very quickly. After the very intensive workout that is Sungho and Seungmin performing Bad Boy with choreo, Sungho collapses onto the couch and Taeyang carries his glass right up to his mouth, like a sick Victorian boy being fed soup.
The drinks, even Seungmin’s monstrosity, are on their last legs by the time Keeho calls them from the front of the room, arms out to get their full attention, mic in one hand and glass in the other. “It is time for final songs.”
“Sungho got here last, so he’s up first,” Seungmin rushes like he needed to get it out in a second flat for it to be legally binding. Sungho gasps and turns to stare daggers at him, back to giggling into his pitcher, hunched over it like a witch.
He feels himself being pushed up off the couch, and Keeho sticks a tongue out at him as they swap places. Sungho accepts his fate and sighs, back turned to the group huddled around the tablet, choosing a song for him. He’s been getting high scores for most of his songs tonight, he recalls, so they probably want to go hard on him.
For some relief and distraction he pulls his phone out of his pocket to flick through his notifications. At the top of the list sits a text from Sanghyeok, which he swipes open without reading the preview.
He swallows whatever sound tries to escape his throat as he clicks on the photo on the screen and yanks his phone closer to his face to see it clearer. Donghyun is centred in the photo, holding up a cup of ice cream towards the camera, showing it off. Sungho can still see the pink of his cheeks as he smiles so wide that his eyes turn into little crescents. He’s so cute that Sungho’s heart might stop.
Sungho then looks to Sanghyeok in the photo. It’s a selfie, Sanghyeok holding the camera up and away from them to catch Donghyun, who is sitting across the table from him in the picture, though Sanghyeok’s almost fully captured, too. He’s turned slightly to the side so Sungho can see the strong slope of his nose. His smile is thin and closed-mouthed, but it’s noticeable. Sungho knows he bombarded Sanghyeok with compliments when he dyed his hair the orange it is now, but it really does suit him so incredibly well. It highlights his tone perfectly, and the cut is sculpted to expertly frame his sharp jaw and his high cheekbones—
Sungho zooms in. There’s a little black eyeliner heart on the cheek he's presenting to the camera, showing it off.
Keeho’s voice flutters through his head. If only I had a hot roommate with a car…
“We have chosen!” Keeho’s voice booms through the room, making Sungho flinch. He pockets his phone and turns around to face his lineup of judges.
“Blackpink in your area!” Seungmin yells as the opening of Boombayah plays through the room's speakers.
“Ya!” Sungho yells and lets his head fall back, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. He’s appreciative of the long intro, allowing him to prepare himself for what they are expecting of him. If Sungho is to get out of this night without paying the drinks bill, he has to rap, he has to headbang, and most definitively, he has to twerk.
He’s also very appreciative of his friends for being insane, meaning that his embarrassment of twerking is quickly drowned out by laughs and screams and their own attempts. He still face-plants on the couch once the song finishes, though, hiding from the world for a moment.
He hears a chorus of ‘oohs’ and realises he forgot to wait for the score the machine has given him. Moving as little as he can, he lifts his head to peer at the animated screen.
“88,” Taeyang hums. “Plus some extra points for dancing… not too bad.”
Sungho sighs. He’s done all he can… now for some revenge.
The three of them huddle around Keeho, giggling and sending him hand-hearts as he hands his card over to the staff at the reception desk, smiling just enough to pass as polite.
“So generous!” Sungho blows him a kiss and Taeyang cackles, hitting Keeho’s shoulder.
“You actual cunts,” Keeho yells the second the door closes shut behind them. Sungho wheezes and quickly hugs his arms close to him to shield him from the cold.
“I am a soul singer! I sing RnB,” Keeho complains, dragging out the word ‘RnB’ as an elaborate vocal run. “How the fuck am I meant to sing Ateez…”
The three of them are laughing now, Seungmin clutched to Sungho’s arm to stay upright.
“And you went so easy on him.” Keeho throws a hand in Seungmin’s direction as he rolls his eyes.
“It’s not my fault I can sing everything,” Seungmin teases.
All Sungho feels is a gust of wind and a sharp pull on his arm as Seungmin runs away from Keeho, launching at him the fastest Sungho has ever seen him move.
“Guys,” Sungho calls out, righting himself. “Let’s go drinking!” he calls with a fist in the air to try to rally them.
He starts the first couple of steps further up the street, and when he sees none of them follow him, he adds, “First round on me.”
Keeho and Seungmin basically skip hand-in-hand to follow Sungho. He scoffs at them but bravely continues on the noble pursuit of consuming more alcohol.
They end up in a nice bar that Sungho guesses is relatively new, its exposed industrial decor shining metal instead of anything lived-in, where he buys them all normal-sized cocktails for the price of the noraebang pitchers. The reward for this gratuitous feat of generosity is having to listen to Keeho and Seungmin complain about two of their friends that Sungho doesn’t even know getting together.
Normally, Sungho is invested in gossip with next-to-no effort, but he can’t keep track of all the names, and the friends seem to be worldly bad at romancing each other, considering how miserable Keeho and Seungmin are about witnessing it. He empties the end of his drink in hopes there’s a switch at the bottom of the glass that will make them change subject.
As he sets the glass down, he feels a buzz in his pocket. For a moment, he considers the ideathat there actually was a switch on his glass before he remembers he has a phone.
He finds a notification from Sanghyeok and slides it open.
wooriwoo
don’t forget to text me<3
Sungho reads the text and then sees the photo he sent earlier above it, clicking on it as a reflex.
“I did Donghyunie’s blush earlier,” Sungho wails, shoving his phone in his friends' faces. They take the phone out of his hands and he cradles his empty glass as he cries. “He’s so cute.”
“A baby!” Keeho yells, handing the phone to Taeyang.
“A baby,” Sungho repeats, pouting.
Taeyang looks up at him from across the table. “Did you do the heart on Sanghyeok’s cheek too?”
Sungho sits upright. “Yeah! I was gonna have them match but he did a face mask,” Sungho giggles, remembering his face-masked face. “So I just drew that instead.”
“He has really high cheekbones,” Sungho adds.
Taeyang’s looking back at the phone, but his eyebrows raise. “Wow, I’ve never heard that before.”
It sounds sarcastic, but Sungho doesn’t understand why it would be. Where would Taeyang be hearing about Sanghyeok’s cheeks?
He’s startled out of his confusion when Taeyang hands his phone back to him, the screen black again. Sungho takes it and pockets it.
Sungho doesn’t know exactly why he’s suddenly annoyed. The feeling is obvious but evasive, his tired, fuzzy neurons running around his body to try to catch it and have it explain itself. He decides the confusion alone is enough to warrant pouting about it and does so, sulking into the glass of water placed in his hands at some point, snacking on the plates of bite-sized fried food that also appeared without him knowing when.
“We’re gonna go, Sungho.”
Sungho sits up at his name being called and only realises what was said when he sees Keeho and Taeyang moving to stand up, getting each of their things together.
“No!” Sungho cries. “You’re going home? It’s only…” Sungho starts to argue and glances around, trying and failing to think of any way to get the time.
“He’s here!” Seungmin announces and joins the others in packing up his things.
Sungho mumbles through his pout, “Why are you leaving?”
Keeho laughs. “Your boy is here to take you home.”
Sungho’s boy?
Sungho looks over Seungmin’s shoulder to find whatever he was looking at, and among the people scattered around the bar floor, he sees Sanghyeok, his smile growing as he walks closer and closer. Sungho feels his cheeks rise too the more the surprise is replaced by relief and warmth.
“Sanghyeok!”
Sungho watches as Sanghyeok greets each of them before standing next to Sungho, letting Sungho hug his side. He’s a lot shorter than Sungho is on the stool so he hugs Sanghyeok’s shoulders and leans his head to rest on Sanghyeok’s.
“Now can we leave?” Taeyang asks, tilting his head to the side to meet Sungho’s eyes.
Sungho huffs, “Fine.”
They shuffle about to hug him goodbye, Sungho holding each of them from his perch on the stool, and then they flutter through the crowd and out of the bar.
Sungho blinks, and Sanghyeok’s in the seat beside his to the left. Sanghyeok is shuffling out of his leather jacket, letting it fall from his shoulders onto the back of the stool, and once his hands are free, Sungho’s being pushed forward in his seat. When he leans back again, there’s softness where there was only the hardwood of the chair.
“The walk to the car will be cold,” Sanghyeok explains. “I tried to match your outfit.”
Sungho glances to the back of his stool and recognises the softness as one of his coats; a light blue puffer jacket.
Sungho smiles back at Sanghyeok in thanks, but Sanghyeok’s already hunched over a menu he’s procured, looking over the slim glasses balanced on his nose.
“Ooh!” Sungho hums. “I got this one,” he points on the menu, “the passion fruit thing. And Taeyang got the strawberry thing. It was a bit gross but…” Sungho trails off with a shrug. He can’t say much, considering if it magicked itself in his hands, it wouldn’t take much convincing to finish it.
“You’d probably like this one!” Sungho points to what he expects is an espresso martini, but is called something more stupid for the sake of authenticity. It’s got coffee in it, it probably comes in a classy martini glass, and it would suit Sanghyeok and his rimless glasses. That’s more than enough to go off of. “You should get it!”
Sanghyeok laughs, freezing his hand in front of his mouth, delicately holding one of the nondescript deep-fried foods between two fingers. “You’re not encouraging drink-driving, are you?”
Sungho stops. “I forgot.”
Sanghyeok’s tongue gets trapped between his teeth as he smiles, flicking to the next page of the menu.
“I’ll get you one, though,” he nods to Sungho’s empty glass, plopping the bite of food in his mouth. “If you don’t want to go home yet,” He mumbles, one of his cheeks protuding.
“Let’s stay out all night!” Sungho says through a yawn to make Sanghyeok laugh. He doesn’t mean it, but it works at making Sanghyeok laugh, and it gives him a buzz of sudden energy that makes it feel more honest.
“One drink.” Sungho holds up his pointer finger to Sanghyeok, who hooks it with his own as he steps off his stool.
“On it.”
It feels like thirty minutes until Sanghyeok sits back beside him, so bored he has resorted to flicking a coaster around the table. The world is bright once more when a pink, mint-smelling drink is placed back onto it, and Sanghyeok shuffles into his chair.
“It’s a grapefruit Mojito,” Sanghyeok explains. “It’ll be sweeter than a regular Mojito so I thought you’d like it.”
Sungho grins at him in thanks and takes a sip. It tastes great. It is sweeter than a regular Mojito, but nowhere as sickening as Taeyang’s strawberry thing.
Sanghyeok leans forward to have the smallest taste and hums as he sits back.
“Oh, that is nice. We need to come back here.”
Sungho nods in agreement.
“And I saw some other people with desserts,” Sanghyeok reports as he glances around the other tables for more evidence. “It’s simply my duty to try them out.”
“We can come next week.” Sungho giggles. “A day Donghyunie is busy though, I promised next time we went out we’d go to that bar I found with the fish tank.”
Sanghyeok nods. “What kind of parents would we be, bringing our son drinking to somewhere without fish?”
Sungho hits Sanghyeok’s arm and covers his laugh with his other hand.
When Sanghyeok smiles, the still-there eyeliner-heart on his cheek squishes against itself. Sungho watches mesmerised as it unsquishes itself, forming a full heart again.
“Did you know your cheekbones are really high?”
On command, the black heart is squished again.
“Oh?” Sanghyeok prompts, eyebrows shooting upwards like they’re in competition with his cheeks.
Sungho nods, his hair flopping in front of his eyes as he does. “Yeah,” he brushes his hair back to look at Sanghyeok more clearly. He lets his head fall onto his hand, though the world is spinning slightly, so maybe he caught his head on its way to the table. “And your hair is pretty. I like it orange.”
“Oh, I was thinking of dyeing it…” Sanghyeok starts.
“No!” Sungho yells, hoping he’s fast and loud enough to get his way.
Sanghyeok laughs. “I’m joking.”
He gets hit again in retaliation. Sungho slumps back to where he was, head resting in one of his palms. He does not think joking about Sanghyeok’s orange hair is funny.
Sanghyeok’s hands fall to his lap as his laugh settles, and Sungho glances between the empty table in front of Sanghyeok to his hands underneath it. It feels like an uncanny image; something between a spot-the-difference picture and déja vu, and it’s scrambling Sungho’s tired brain.
“Wait, why don’t you have a drink?” Sungho grabs the menu lying flat on the table. “I’ll get you one.”
Sanghyeok laughs as he stops Sungho with a hand. “I’ll drink with you next time, I promise,” Sanghyeok assures. He brings Sungho’s hand to the other in his lap, and without the support, his head tilts towards Sanghyeok instead. “Let’s get you home.”
Sungho doesn’t think he slept in the car, but Sanghyeok’s pulling them through the door of their apartment suspiciously soon after what he last remembers; a fuzzy, warm image from his extra-inch vantage point of Sanghyeok zipping up Sungho’s blue puffer jacket, fingers grazing his chin. Sanghyeok holds Sungho steady as Sungho slides off his boots and places slippers at Sungho’s feet to slip into.
Sungho’s sobered up pretty drastically, tiredness being the primary opposing force to his motor functions, but he lets Sanghyeok usher him into his bedroom anyway. He sits on the side of his bed, slowly shedding clothes one at a time into Sanghyeok's outstretched arms and telling him where to put them. When Sanghyeok’s fluttering about the room ceases, Sungho’s in his pyjamas, sat in bed, upright, but his legs under the covers.
“Are you ready for bed, then?” Sanghyeok chuckles.
Sungho gasps and shakes his head, “Absolutely not,” he thinks he says, his voice crackling and mumbled and maybe just in his head, he can’t be sure. To be clearer, he points to his horrified, still-made-up face.
Sanghyeok stares at him until he understands, and then stares once more with a different question. Presumably pondering why Sungho’s so disgusted by the idea of going to bed as is, and yet making no move to change it. Which, to be fair, isn’t a terrible question… Sungho’s current plan was to sit and recharge and then, when his body least expected it, brute force the energy to walk to the bathroom.
“I can take off your makeup if you want?” Sanghyeok offers, already walking to the small bathroom attached to Sungho’s room. “What stuff do you use?”
Sungho smiles softly to himself. He’s being so spoiled today. For some reason, he wants to use what little energy he has to shake all of his limbs.
“My cleanser's the big pink bottle,” Sungho starts, voice following Sanghyeok as he calls out each thing he needs. It takes a couple of trips back and forth for the collection of skin-care things on Sungho’s bedside table to near completion. With just one last serum to go, Sanghyeok shuffles back to Sungho, presenting his catch for final judgment.
“No,” Sungho whines. “It’s the snail one,” he points to the correct bottle to help, assuming his arm will extend the extra five meters it needs to because Sungho wants it to. Sanghyeok puts a hand on Sungho’s, and he is upset his arm-stretching wish didn't work, but here he can see Sanghyeok’s face perfectly when he turns his head to kiss Sungho’s hand. He drops it as he turns back to the bathroom, and Sungho lets it fall back to his lap.
Sanghyeok skips back to Sungho, a towel flung over his shoulder and the correct serum bottle in hand. “Let’s go!”
Sungho puts the towel down across his pillow and lies perfectly straight, like a vampire, or Jaehyun, or preferably more like sleeping beauty. He keeps laughing, the delirious, sleep-deprived kind, when he looks up at Sanghyeok’s concentrated expression looming over him, so he tries to keep his eyes closed.
The giddiness fades gradually as Sanghyeok continues to clean his face. The sensations are soft and comforting, and Sanghyeok follows his instructions with a diligence that’s not unfamiliar to Sungho, but feels singular in this context. Sungho feels singular.
Sungho forgets to want to laugh as Sanghyeok lifts his head with a careful hand to pull the towel from under it. His hand doesn’t move until Sungho’s head is cushioned once more, and it’s just a moment before it’s back, gently patting his face dry with the towel. Sanghyeok’s looking too closely to meet his gaze, so Sungho watches alone as he flutters around above him, making sure everything is how Sungho likes it.
The room gets that bit darker, and Sungho wants to whine and yell so it’s bright again and his eyes aren’t falling shut and Sanghyeok’s giggles aren’t muffled when he presses a ‘good night’ against his forehead.
Why is it so fucking bright?
Sungho scrunches his face and stretches his arms, crossing them over his face in an attempt to block out the obnoxious light trying to wrench his eyelids open. He reaches out blindly behind him for a pillow, considers throwing it at the sun, but then settles for hugging it closely against his face, granting his eyes some relief.
The door creaks open and he groans in harmony with Sanghyeok’s laugh.
“Good morning, my princess.”
Sungho doesn’t look up from behind his pillow, but he suspects Sanghyeok is standing there, smiling, letting the sunlight dance on his shining, gorgeous hair, and he almost sacrifices his only bit of protection to throw it at him. He still thinks it might be worth it as the laugh gets closer and closer. He hears the clinking of something placed on his bedside table, and then Sanghyeok’s right on the other side of the pillow.
“If I were really your princess you wouldn’t be laughing at me,” Sungho mumbles. His vision isn’t black anymore, he realises then, and instead the blue of his pillowcase. He groans.
“Oh?” Sanghyeok hums, gently pulling down the barrier between them to see Sungho’s face. And Sungho lets him. “What would I be doing?”
Sungho hums in thought. “Making me food?” He blinks at Sanghyeok, and Sungho forgets that he expected Sanghyeok to look sunlit and handsome, but he does. “And buying me a house. And cuddling me.”
Sanghyeok smiles. “Well, I can do one of those.”
Sungho is rolled onto his back with the added weight of Sanghyeok on his bed, and he waits patiently as Sanghyeok gets comfortable before hugging his side and hiding his face in Sanghyeok’s shoulder. With the window now to his back and Sanghyeok’s arm as a pillow, his eyes can finally close again as he steals back some sleep, however short-lived.
Sungho’s pulled back to his body by the vibrations of Sanghyeok’s laugh against his ear, a frankly nicer wakeup call than the sun beaming in at him, but a wakeup nonetheless.
He grunts to get Sanghyeok to shut up and snuggles further into him. It doesn’t work and Sanghyeok keeps laughing. Sungho opens his eyes to glare at him, which Sanghyeok just returns with a smile.
Sanghyeok’s hand falls to Sungho’s head, lightly brushing his hair and encouraging Sungho to sink further into his shoulder.
Once Sungho’s comfortable again, once his guard is down, Sanghyeok giggles, “If you were a cat, you’d be purring right now.”
There are a couple of seconds where Sungho could listen to Sanghyeok’s shouts and flails and turn back on his decision to launch Sanghyeok off the bed, but they pass by nearly instantly, Sungho’s mind made up. He pushes on any part of Sanghyeok he can grasp, and Sanghyeok lands on the floor with a squeak.
At the smallest movement from Sanghyeok, Sungho’s hand flies over the side of the bed as a barrier between them.
“You’re not allowed back on,” Sungho mumbles, face smushed against his pillow once again now that Sanghyeok forfeited his cuddle privileges.
Sitting up, Sanghyeok presses his shoulder against Sungho’s hand as if to test it. As warned, Sungho pushes against him. Sungho feels Sanghyeok’s shoulder retreat against his hand, and a moment later, it’s replaced with another hand, linking their fingers.
Sanghyeok’s not pushing with his hand, just holding, so there’s nothing for Sungho to fight. He supposes this is fine and lets his hand slack in Sanghyeok’s hold.
Sanghyeok wiggles it back and forth in time with his laugh.
“I have a surprise outside,” Sanghyeok announces, letting Sungho’s hand fall back off the edge of the bed as he heads out of Sungho’s room. “Drink the water I left you!”
Sungho whines. Sanghyeok absolutely could’ve led with that surprise part and got Sungho awake without all this nonsense. He also knows Sanghyeok would never miss an opportunity for nonsense.
When Sungho emerges from his room, water drunk and face washed, he snorts, half amused and half impressed, at what he’s met with.
Sanghyeok sits at their small dining table before dozens of little pink card boxes scattered around the tabletop— a similar pink paper bag, printed with the logo of a local bakery, sitting at the head of the table, obviously the genesis of all its little box children displayed as if on an offering table. Sanghyeok has opened some of the boxes near him, further confirming they’re each filled with a dessert or so, and he smiles a closed-mouth, full-cheeked smile to him, as Sungho moves to sit across from him, his back to Donghyun’s fish tank.
Sanghyeok swallows before he says, “A feast awaits!”
Sungho giggles and pulls up his chair, watching Sanghyeok’s hands fly around the table.
“I’m saving these two for Donghyun if he wants them.” Sanghyeok pushes two boxes to the side. “But eat anything else,” Sanghyeok offers. “I think you’d like these.”
The boxes are laid in front of him in an instant, Sanghyeok opening them one by one for Sungho to peruse; first a cinnamon roll, then some various colourful cupcakes, then a mini fruit pie. It feels like he’s looking through the glass cases at a bakery, all in the comfort of his own home, with no queue behind him, and no attendant waiting for him. And no need to pay because a cute boy already bought them all for him.
At the smallest gesture to the pie, Sanghyeok’s cutting up a bite with the side of a fork he conjured and scooping it up, holding it up for Sungho to eat.
Sungho leans forward, sniffing the bite of pie in front of him. He’s not sure why he thought to smell it, maybe an attempt to smell what kind of fruit it might be. It was futile anyway, just smelling like generic sugared fruit, so he takes the bite into his mouth, sitting back to eat it.
It is delicious. He still has no clue what kind of fruit it is, but it is delicious. And to communicate that to Sanghyeok, he goes limp over the back of his chair.
Sanghyeok cuts himself a bite instantly and mimics him, flopping over the chair with so much drama that it shuffles the chair back a few centimetres.
Sungho’s thankfully done with the bite by the time a laugh rips out of him, but he covers his mouth in habit anyway. He’s not sure how he’s survived all these meals with Sanghyeok being as funny as he is; not sure why he’s continued to eat with him despite the dangers. The fun he is must outweigh… well, maybe everything, Sungho thinks now.
“Are you doing anything today?” Sanghyeok asks before feeding himself the second bite of the cinnamon roll, Sungho getting the first.
Sungho shakes his head. “No plan.”
Sanghyeok nods in understanding. “Want to show me how to play Fifa?”
Sungho screeches so loud he expects Sanghyeok to flinch from it, but he doesn't, just sits, smiling happily, like all of this is as he planned. Like Sungho could never surprise him.
The thought settles unevenly in his chest; the frustration of being predictable engrossed by the bigger sensation of unconditional acceptance. Like Sanghyeok’s gaze will stay on him, unchanging, no matter what Sungho does.
It kind of pisses him off so he pulls the cinnamon roll box towards him and away from Sanghyeok, who hums, unphased, and picks at another cake box.
It also pisses him off that it doesn’t seem to work the other way around. Sanghyeok catches Sungho off-guard all the time; whether it’s a stray flare of light that catches on Sanghyeok’s glasses and refreshes all of Sungho’s senses like a white out that does it, or it’s seemingly on purpose like now, Sanghyeok saying something Sungho most wants to hear and least expects to.
“Do you want to play on the same team?” Sungho suggests to Sanghyeok sitting on the floor-chair to his right as he flicks through the opening pages of the game in his peripheral. “So I can tell you what to do without it being against my interests.”
“Oh, so you’d lie to me about the controls to win?” Sanghyeok scoffs, handing Sungho his remote controller to do whatever he needs to to set it up. “That’s cruel.”
“I have a reputation to upkeep!” Sungho whines, pointing at his high score on the screen with one of the remotes in hand.
“I see, I see,” Sanghyeok retreats, taking his remote back. “There should be a ‘I’m playing with my ten-year-old cousin so don’t count this’ button.”
Sungho laughs and turns it into a snicker as he says, “My ten-year-old cousin is absolutely better at Fifa than you.” It becomes a laugh again as he dodges Sanghyeok’s punch.
“And now I can say you were my teacher, so…” Sanghyeok threatens. Sungho rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue back, launching right into an explanation of the game.
He’s sure Sanghyeok’s picked up the general motions of the game from the times he’s seen Sungho play, but Sungho explains it all anyway, and Sanghyeok doesn’t stop him. He goes through all the controls, pressing Sanghyeok’s fingers on each of the buttons as he introduces what they do and when they’re needed.
“So those buttons are all different kinds of passes.” Sungho gives Sanghyeok his hand back and sits back on his cushion. “You’ll use those the most to pass between both of us… You can kind of just choose any of them.”
“On it,” Sanghyeok giggles and salutes him. “You just keep telling me what to do,” Sanghyeok finishes as Sungho loads up a match.
Sungho giggles in return, “On it.”
“NO! No, no,” Sungho yells in horror as Sanghyeok has the perfect opening to assist his goal, and then the opposing team’s NPC tackles the ball out of him. The screen quickly flicks to the other side of the pitch to follow the ball's path, and their controlled players switch in an instant.
“You have to hold L2 when that happens,” Sungho rambles, glued to the screen as he quickly tackles the ball back into their possession and moves towards their goal. “You need to hold L2 when you’re about to be tackled and then pass it to me quickly, I had a sure goal there…”
“Okay!” Sungho exclaims to get Sanghyeok’s attention, succeeding in getting them back to where they were before, right before the opposing box. “So I’m going to pass it to your guy on the right, and you send it right back to me, okay?”
So Sungho goes ahead with his plan. He sends the ball to Sanghyeok’s player, rushes into a clearing in the box and yells for Sanghyeok to pass… And the NPC successfully tackles Sanghyeok.
“Sanghyeok!” Sungho cries. “How could you let that happen? I literally told you,” he whines, hands moving rapidly on the remote to gain possession again. His attention is split, however, Sanghyeok’s laugh forcing him to look back and forth between him and the screen, not fully capturing either.
Sungho wants to elbow him for laughing, wants to know why he’s laughing, but most presently wants to tackle this NPC into tomorrow. Which he does. But then, once he does, the laughing instantly ceases, turning into cheering instead. Sanghyeok once again evading him.
The shouts follow him with each inch his player moves forward, forgetting about passing altogether and letting his midfielder run the entire pitch right up to the goal. Sanghyeok’s cheer when he scores is the loudest he’s been today, and Sungho fights to stay upright from the force of it.
He pauses the screen during the goal replay and sets his remote on the floor, turning to look at Sanghyeok properly.
“What was that at the end?” Sungho interrogates, eyes hopping between all parts of Sanghyeok’s face to try to gather some sort of answer. “You were doing so well until then, you were really good at choosing play directions! Next time, you could try a few more pass types so they’d work better. Lofted passes are super useful— that’s when you press the buttons twice. Did you just get tired, or…?”
Sungho’s question trails off as he zones back into his surroundings, namely Sanghyeok, unmoving, looking up at him. He has those same eyes as earlier, the ones that are so bright and deep and calm, they make Sungho feel crazy.
“Why are you staring at me?”
Sanghyeok's gaze stays stubbornly where it is, but doesn’t lose any of its softness. This feels different from earlier, where Sungho felt he could run around and do anything, and Sanghyeok’s eyes would still be on him. Now he feels fixed.
Sanghyeok revels in having Sungho frozen, draws the moment out, laughs short and small like what he’s about to say is obvious, and says, “Because I like you.”
Sungho’s heart beats double-time like it’s trying to thaw his still-frozen body. His jaw melts first, falling open slightly, before the rest of his face catches up and falls to meet it.
They’re simple words Sungho understands as true, but the context is throwing him so far out of his depth he wants to throw a tantrum and cry. He wants Sanghyeok to swim out to rescue him and carry him back.
“But I’ve been a bitch all day,” Sungho frowns.
“And I like you, anyway,” Sanghyeok repeats, grinning. He scrunches his face as punctuation, and after looking at nothing but Sungho for the last eternity, he turns away, back to the screen. “We can get back to the game, sorry. L2 is it I have to press?”
Sungho yanks the remote out of Sanghyeok’s hands and throws it beside his own on the floor. Sanghyeok has the decency to look slightly flustered, and Sungho wants to scream in celebration.
However, Sanghyeok accepts the situation in a matter of two blinks, empty hands settling on his lap and eyes back on Sungho, waiting for whatever he wants to do next. Sanghyeok drops all the time in the world into Sungho’s lap and sits, not even patiently, but contentedly.
Sungho takes the time to stare back; he’s not sure for how long, but he guesses that’s the idea. He twirls a slip of soft orange hair between his fingers and replaces it. He finds the slight shadow of a black heart on Sanghyeok’s cheek, not fully cleaned away yet. Sungho has things for that, Sanghyeok knows. His eyes trail downwards from his cheek, and watch Sanghyeok break their silence.
“You’re too quiet.”
Sungho shoots back up to his eyes and watches them flutter. Sanghyeok’s smile is awkward around the words, they fall out rather than at their usual sauntering pace. His stomach flips in excitement.
“And you want to kiss me.” He forces his voice steady, fixes his gaze, and tenses as he feels everything inside him spin.
Sanghyeok nods once, twice, again. “Please.”
There’s a hand on Sungho’s cheek. He closes his eyes, and then every sensation has a name only once it happens. There’s no expecting or planning to do, and no lead he could take that Sanghyeok doesn’t have covered: a hand in Sungho’s hair, pulling back right as Sungho needs to breathe, leaning back in before Sungho has to whine.
The only preparation Sungho has made is in his imagination, which he now does proud. At the smallest, innocent push from Sanghyeok, he falls back slowly, Sanghyeok following, holding the full weight of Sungho’s head in his hand for the sake of keeping them connected.
Sanghyeok’s hand pillows his head, the other one braced on the rug. Sungho lets out a breathless laugh and Sanghyeok pushes himself up to give them room for air.
His face is right above Sungho again, like last night. It’s more open now. A little less princely, a little messier. His cheeks are reddened in splotches rather than carefully brushed circles. His smile is uneven, mouth open to get more air in. His t-shirt collar hangs closer to Sungho than to him, and the blush travels down there too.
His hair still looks perfect, though. Sungho sticks his hand in it to mess it up.
Sanghyeok kisses him again but has to pull off just a second later to take stuttered, forgotten about breaths. Sungho laughs openly at him, but Sanghyeok just leans down again, undistracted.
He kisses Sungho again, then kisses his cheeks. He smells sweet and everywhere. He moves his fingers, softly gliding through Sungho’s hair from where it’s caught between it and the floor, and Sungho shudders. Sungho feels the twirls of carpet brush against his neck and brings the hand in Sanghyeok’s hair down to his chest.
“Sanghyeok?”
Sanghyeok’s eyes are on his when Sungho opens them.
“Yeah?” Sanghyeok asks, holding himself up with his arm fully extended. He stays as still as he can while he waits for Sungho, but his chest moves with each quick breath, and his heart beats as fast.
“You’re so hot,” Sungho exhales, looking into Sanghyeok’s eyes so he knows he’s never meant anything more. Orange hair a mess; breath tripping out of his mouth. “Like really, really hot…”
“But I cannot stop thinking about how dirty this floor is,” Sungho rushes, scrunching his face in hopes the moment will pass sooner.
Sanghyeok’s laugh is loud and slow, and then Sungho can hear it moving.
“You hoovered yesterday.” And then there’s a delicate hold of his wrists as Sungho is pulled upright before Sanghyeok lets them fall again.
“Hey, I didn’t mean leave!” Sungho whines, getting louder with each word as Sanghyeok walks away into the kitchen. He swears he sees Sanghyeok smirk as he turns on the tap in the sink and he feels his anger bubble over.
“I can’t believe you’d kiss someone and walk away,” Sungho yells. “I thought you would be better than that, Sanghyeok. I actually can’t believe you.” The tap turns off. “What are you even doing?” Sanghyeok wipes his hands on a paper towel.
“I’m trying to yell at you, what are you doing?” Sungho quietens with each word as Sanghyeok walks towards him.
Sanghyeok presents his hands to Sungho, face level, as Sungho is still sitting down.
“All clean,” Sanghyeok sings. “So can I get the dust off of your hair, now?”
Oh. Sungho nods. “Yes, please.”
He feels Sanghyeok pet his hair flat, shaking his hands to dust it.
“Sorry for yelling at you.” Sungho looks up, and Sanghyeok smiles at something on the top of Sungho’s head.
“It’s okay,” Sanghyeok giggles. “You think I’m hot.”
Sungho grunts, and Sanghyeok’s laugh fills the room.
“I don’t think that counts as news,” Sungho says to shut him up. It works, but Sungho feels like he can hear Sanghyeok’s smile.
“You do anything I want,” Sungho challenges.
“Not news at all,” Sanghyeok grins. He looks stupid, neck crinkled from bending his head down to look at Sungho, messy hair defying gravity. He knows Sanghyeok’s not going to fix it until Sungho stops laughing at it so he laughs at it again.
He reaches up as if to be pulled up, but once Sanghyeok’s hands are in his, he just holds them there.
“So what do you want to do today?” Sanghyeok asks.
Sungho hums as Sanghyeok shakes their arms, smiling at how Sungho’s voice wobbles when he pulls on their arms.
“I want to do whatever Donghyunie wants,” Sungho decides. “I miss baby.”
Sanghyeok nods. “Whatever Donghyunie wants Donghyunie gets.”
“Do you think he’s awake?” Sungho ponders, looking to Sanghyeok for the answer. If Sanghyeok really loved him, he’d go find out.
“I’d be surprised if your yelling didn’t wake him up.”
Sanghyeok slipped his hands out of Sungho’s before he’d finished the sentence, knowing Sungho would yank him to the ground regardless of either of their safety.
“Lee Sanghyeok!”
Sanghyeok’s laughing, giddy with energy as he runs away from Sungho, and it makes Sungho giddy too, despite it all. Despite the very real violence he wants to inflict on him. Despite the possibility that maybe it’s not that at all and he really just wants the excuse to touch him.
Sungho catches him in just a matter of seconds, a combination of there being nowhere to run in the apartment and Sanghyeok not trying very hard to evade him. Sungho has his arms locked around him in a hug with Sanghyeok pinned with his front to Sungho’s, smiling unabashedly despite his mouth being inches from Sungho’s chin.
“You got caught on purpose,” Sungho says.
Sanghyeok raises the extra inch on his toes to kiss Sungho’s cheek. “I do everything on purpose.”