Work Text:
“Now that you’re not side-eyeing me anymore whenever I’m around you…” As if on cue, Dylan shot him a look, but it didn’t carry the same disdain as it used to. “…as much,” Jun still added, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Would you tell me now what your type is?”
Of all the questions to choose from, of course Jun had to pick the one that cut the deepest. One look in his eyes and it was obvious to Dylan that he had no clue about his feelings for him. How could he? No matter how much Nano had teased them about it, pushing his own shipping agenda every time they did as much as breathe next to each other, Dylan had always made sure to keep his heart concealed. This way no one—especially Jun—would know just how deep his feelings went.
He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think of a way to get out of that interrogation. But Jun was looking at him so earnestly—he was in no way trying to make fun of him or intentionally put him on the spot—he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse him. That had always been his problem.
“I guess someone who speaks his mind and is unapologetic about himself. Someone who cares about the important stuff, like his friends.”
Jun fixed his glasses, the ones he only ever wore at home. Dylan was secretly glad, because it was a version of Jun only he and their friends got to see.
“What about hot?” Jun asked with the most unserious smile.
“That too, of course.”
“So basically me.”
Dylan did his best to hide any reaction. Ever since he had come to terms with his unrequited love for his bandmate, he had trained his face to stay as neutral and unreadable as possible.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he answered, careful not to meet his eyes, worried he’d be able to see the truth behind it.
But Jun just chuckled, making himself more comfortable on the table. Little did he know how right he actually was.
“Don’t worry. I know you’d rather go one year without writing a single song than be with me.”
Dylan fidgeted nervously with his hands under the table, feeling the weight of the lies dropping from his lips. “It’s good that you know.”
Before Dylan could even think of a way to steer the conversation elsewhere—he wasn’t going to ask whohis type was, he knew it all too well—he found Jun fast asleep on the table, with all his things scathered around him.
Typical.
Trust Jun to be completely relaxed and unbothered while Dylan was seconds away from losing it.
He sighed, resting his arms on the table and his chin on top of them. He sat still, just watching him breathe, slow and peaceful. As if he had no longer full control of his body, his hand stretched forward to touch Jun’s fluffy hair, only stopping itself at the last second. Part of him just wanted to give in, but he knew it would only hurt him more, the fact he could only do something like this in secret.
A familiar pain moved through him, like an old wound that had softened with time, but was never really gone. The last few weeks had been both the best and worst he had in a long time. Getting closer to Jun, after trying to put their differences aside, had felt so good, too good. His stupid heart had started to hope again, despite his brain constantly giving him a reality check. It had started to get greedy, and long for something it could never have. It was simpler when Jun hated him and kept his distance from him. It was simpler when there was nothing much to hold onto.
“It’s funny that you think I’d choose writing a song over being with you,” he whispered, running a hand over his tired eyes. “It’s funny because you’re always there with me, when I’m writing. In the only way you possibly can.”
He watched Jun slightly adjust his position, and he had to fight the urge to find something softer for his cheek to rest instead. Like his hand, or his chest.
“I like you, Jun. And as much as it sucks,” he smiled at him softly, the curve of his lips betraying a quiet yet devastating longing. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
A few more seconds passed, maybe minutes, without Dylan making a sound, too busy just trying to patch up the cracks in the mask he had carefully built and perfected over the years.
“But you can never know.”
Dylan walked away, having no idea that someone had been listening all along, and his heart wasn’t the only one thumping faster now.
***
A whole day had passed and Jun was still trying to process what he had accidentally overheard. He knew he should have opened his eyes and let Dylan know he was actually not asleep—or that he had simply woken up at the right time, or the worst, depending on how one chose to look at it.
But the opportunity to take a look into what was going on Dylan’s mind had been too good for him to pass up. And now he had to deal with the consequences of his own curiosity.
Dylan liked him.
Not as a bandmate, or as a friend—this status alone hadn’t been easy to achieve—but romantically.
The same Dylan who always acted like he could barely stand him for more than five minutes had feelings for him. And based on what he had heard, he had for a while.
“Are you okay?”
The voice of the person who had been occupying his thoughts for the last twenty-four hours yanked him back to the present. With horror, he noticed how his glass of water was overflowing and he was soaking the whole kitchen table, some water dripping onto him too.
“Fuck, fuck.”
He jerked to his feet, so fast he almost lost his balance. Dylan snorted a laugh, setting his cup of coffee down so he wouldn’t spill it too. “Clearly not.” He leaned in and handed him a cloth to help clean up the mess, or at least he tried to because Jun menaged to drop that too.
“What’s your problem? Why are you so jumpy?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Jun.”
Jun froze mid-step. What was the right thing to do? All he knew is that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything at all or look at him.
Dylan studied him, eyes sharp and assessing, as if he was reading more than just his face. Jun couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Dylan finally spoke, breaking the silence.
“You know.”
Jun blinked twice, completely stunned. How the hell did he know?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please, it’s like you have a neon light right on your face.”
“That’s not true.”
“Are you that disgusted? Jesus.”
Despite the venom in his words, his eyes told a different story—Jun couldn’t miss the hint of hurt, and something like disappointment. And that was the last thing Jun wanted him to think.
“I’m not—I’m not disgusted.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“It’s just—,” Jun sighed, trying to collect his thoughts before saying the wrong thing again. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Gee, I wonder why, since you’re taking it so well,” he said with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“And I had to find out like this?”
“You weren’t supposed to hear me.”
“But I did. So what? You were just going to keep this secret to yourself forever?”
Dylan didn’t even flinch before saying: “Pretty much.”
“You—,” Jun felt the heat rising behind his neck. “You’re infuriating.”
Dylan gave him a look, crossing his arms over his chest as he faked composure. “I’m sorry, did I make things inconvenient for you?”
Jun, on the other hand, didn’t share that particular talent. Clearly.
“Would you just shut up and let me process this for a minute?”
Any hint of calm in Dylan quickly vanished. “Why?”, he shot the question. Jun could see now something burning in his eyes he had been trying to keep in check. “What difference does it make? It’s not like you like me like that.”
“How do you know?” Jun felt the overwhelming urge to contradict him, even though his mind was still all over the place and there wasn’t a single thing he was sure of yet. “Maybe I do.”
Somehow this seemed to upset him even more. “Don’t joke about it.”
“I’m not—and why do you even like me?”
“We’re not doing this right now.”
Dylan tried to walk away but Jun swiftly clasped his hand around his wrist with a little too much force.
“Yes, you bet your ass we are! You act like I’m a pain in the ass—”
“You are a pain in the ass.”
“—and then I find out you have feelings for me, how would you feel?”
Dylan yanked his hand free, something finally exploding inside him.
“I don’t know, okay? I just do. I freaking like you even though we’re clearly not a good match. We fight and we drive each other crazy, and yet I still like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The words hit Jun like a slap to the face. He watched as Dylan was still out of breath after venting all those things to him, and his cheeks were turning crimson, and his brain just sort of...crashed.
He took a step forward, just as Dylan took one back, repeating the same dance for at least two more times, until Jun gripped his arms and held him still.
“For someone who likes me this much, you’re sure as hell always trying to run away from me.”
Dylan opened his mouth to say something—no way he was going to let Jun have the last word under any circumstances, especially if he was putting him on the spot like that—but stopped when he caught Jun’s eyes dropping to his lips. His breathing turned shaky once again as he watched him bit his bottom lip too.
“Where did Jun and Dylan go? We have practice in a little bit.”
Thame’s voice growing closer and closer made them jump, with Dylan already retreating to the chair he was in earlier. But again, Jun didn’t let him do it, taking his hand and pulling him into a supply closet instead.
Dylan nearly tripped over some box lying in the middle of the floor, with Jun holding him steady with a hand on his back.
“A closet. How...romantic.”
Jun’s giggle rang loud in that cramped storage room.
“Does the place really matter?”
“One may say that—” The words caught in his throat, the moment Jun started running a finger over his bottom lip. So casually, as if his heart wasn’t already threatening to jump out of his chest any time now. Dylan’s shiver was impossible to miss, and Jun was already committed to pull all the stops just to make him react like that again. “Mmh.”
Jun grinned, and it was maddening to Dylan how sexy he looked without even trying.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Shut up.”
Dylan had never been more grateful for forgetting to replace the broken lightbulb in there, the darkness helping him hide the blush currently spreading across his face.
“Fine.”
Dylan panicked when he felt Jun’s warm breath on him again. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think?” It was cute how visibly nervous Dylan was. Jun wasn’t used to have that effect on someone, no matter how much he liked to brag. Someone who cared beyond the obvious attraction, that is. And that someone being Dylan made it all the more addicting. “Relax, princess. I don’t bite...much.”
Dylan rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You are such a jack—”
It didn’t take a genius to know what Dylan was about to say, but Jun didn’t let him finish. Instead, he brought him closer with the hand still pressed on his back and finally kissed him. With agonizing slowness, Jun teased his lips open and slid his tongue inside. And boy, things only got better from there.
He knew he hadn’t anticipated that moment nearly as much as Dylan, so a big part of him wanted to make it all the more unforgettable for him—though deep down he already sensed it’d stay with him just the same.
In no time, Dylan seized control and slipped his hands into his hair, tugging hard. The desperation behind both his kiss and touch made Jun feel lightheaded.
He reached up to take off his glasses, only to be stopped by Dylan, who adjusted them for him instead.
“Keep them,” he breathed, lips brushing against his cheek.
“You’re such a weirdo,” Jun teased, but letting him have his way without protest. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time.
Dylan drew him in for another kiss, digging his hands into his T-shirt while Jun’s arms naturally wrapped around him. It was almost too much and not nearly enough, and Jun was already getting frustrated at whatever piece of fabric was still between them.
The sound of their friends’s chatter nearby made them pull away, even though anyone with eyes would immediately know what had just happened with just a quick look at the both of them—lips swollen, messy hair, wrinkled clothes. Jun had to look away for a second to stop himself from going for another kiss already. He was already developing an unhealthy adoration for those lips.
“I’m not one to ask a lot of questions but,” Dylan bit his lip, and Jun made an effort not to lose his focus already. “What the hell was this for? Were you feeling sorry for me?”
Jun cracked up at the ridiculousness of what he had just heard. “You think I kissed you like that because I felt sorry for you?”
Dylan just shrugged, and by now Jun already knew it was his way to hide his insecurity. “Who knows what’s cooking in that head of yours. For all I know you—”
“—want to kiss you again. And give this a try. In no particular order.”
Dylan’s eyes crinkled up in a genuine smile that shook him to the core, making him feel like he had just won the lottery. And maybe he did. And for once in his life, he didn’t want to fuck it up.