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There’s a palpable buzz within the humid summer air, one that mixes in well with the heavy smell of grease and deep-fried sugar. Excitement is audible in the noisy ambiance of the carnival, screams of terror bleeding into shouts of laughter, crying, yelling, singing, and chatter. All one and the same. The sun has just begun to set, allowing the flashing, neon lights to shine all the brighter and bathing the crowd in a sea of vibrant color. It seems that the business of the fair has only increased with time, matching positive slopes with Hongjoong’s nerves.
The two of you have stopped, standing under the awning of one of the less crowded food trucks, resting after you’d plainly declared your desire for a Coke. When you first offered up the idea to share just one Coke instead of two, Hongjoong hadn’t thought much of it. You were right, it wasn’t good to drink too much without access to a proper bathroom, and he would likely be buying another drink within the hour anyway — preferably the blue raspberry lemonade he’d had his mind on since seeing the ad on the stall across from him.
However, as he watches you now rise up on your tippy toes, dipping in close enough to him that the tip of your nose brushes against his, Hongjoong feels something akin to panic fly through his chest. He can only stand wide-eyed, his teeth biting into his straw as you steady yourself with a hand over his. The same hand, he is currently holding onto the flimsy paper cup with in an iron-clad grip. He watches as your lips wrap around your own designated straw, your gaze fluttering from the cup, up to his. Hongjoong jumps back, a harsh cough racking through him when the liquid flows down the wrong tube. His hold on the cup falls right along with his composure.
“Are you okay?” You question, concern evident in your voice as you barely manage to catch the cup before it tumbles to the ground.
“Huh? Oh, ye-“ He coughs again, clearing his throat heartily and tries to smile. “Yeah, yeah. I just choked, it- it went down the wrong pipe.”
The look you give him is one that knows all too well, but you allow him a pass, offering up the drink once more. Hongjoong shakes his head, doesn’t think his heart can take any more surprises tonight, falling into line beside you once you begin to make your way to the next ride.
He hopes you don’t notice the way he jumps when your fingers suddenly link with his. That or his clammy palms, which is something he’s been fully aware of all night. If you do, you don’t comment on it, simply smiling up at him as you point to the death-trap looking contraption you’d like to ride next.
He’s a disaster tonight, he knows, jumpy and coiled up tight. His skin has maintained a permanent flush, and his mind is unable to focus on any one thing for too long. But he can’t help it, far too focused on his one and only goal for tonight.
Tonight, Hongjoong is going to kiss you.
It sounds strange, he knows. More so, considering the fact that the two of you have been dating for almost a month now. However, in that time (and the many months prior in which the two of you were just friends), the opportunity has never seemed to naturally arise. Well- that’s not true. The opportunity simply didn’t arise in a compatible fashion with Hongjoong’s courage. Even as passionate and lovely as both of your confessions had been, there was nothing but the exchange of gentle giggles and tentative touches, hands tangling along with warm hugs to mark the start of your relationship. Not that Hongjoong was complaining, he quite thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of your hand in his. However, the longer time went on, the more his anticipation grew, followed closely by the pressure he was feeling to make the first kiss the two of you would share great.
So, he’d decided, what better time than tonight, and what better location than the very top of a Ferris wheel? All he had to do was wait patiently until you were ready to ride it, something he was sure would happen as you’d once mentioned that it was your favorite ride.
And sure enough, his time to shine arrived, the two of you standing at the base of the large metal wheel currently glowing pink, blue, and green, and staring up at the monstrosity.
“Let’s do that,” You state more than ask. And Hongjoong is more than happy to oblige, watching your plush lips as you speak a mile a minute, flying from topic to topic so quickly he can barely keep up. To himself, he smiles, realizing just how far you’ve come from the shy, pretty girl who barely spoke more than a few sentences to him the first time you’d met. He’s standing, mesmerized by you, when you squeeze his hand, drawing his attention.
“C’mon, Joong,” You say, pulling him along, and he realizes the two of you are up next, the operator of the rickety ride patiently waiting for him to walk up the metal stairs.
He can tell you’ve done this a million times, just as with every other ride here you’ve conquered tonight, quickly fastening the straps for both of you and grabbing his shaky hands with a smile.
You’d assured him time and time again that he didn’t need to ride along with you, that you didn’t need to come here at all, if he didn’t feel comfortable. But he’d ignored your concern, determined to conquer his fears and happy just to sit by your side as you experience true joy.
That is, until the ride comes alive with a jolt and the screech of metal sliding against itself, moving him backwards and up into the air. He’s white knuckling the bar, holding on for dear life while you squeal in excitement.
“Uh- Oh!” He exclaims, neck craned back in an attempt to see where he’s being taken. “Do they know it’s going backwards?”
Your laughter plays in his ears, softening his tense bones just a bit. He’s surprised to find humor in your gaze when his eyes land on you. Fondly and with a softness that has his heart squeezing for the right reasons, you inform, “It’s backwards when we go up so that it’s frontwards when we go down.”
And true to your word, the farther up your metal basket climbs, the closer he gets to facing forward. And suddenly, he remembers what he’s even doing here.
The plan had been perfect; he’d wait until they’d almost, almost, almost reached the top before wrapping a snug arm around your shoulders and then leaning in to finally, finally kiss you just as the ride reached its very peak.
Except, now that he’s here, and the top of the ride is quickly approaching, he can’t seem to get control of his fingers, can’t seem to let go of the cold, mildly sticky metal. He’s gripping the rails as if his fingers are glued in place, hoping this rickety thing won’t be the death of him. It’s not until the ride begins its first descent that he gathers the courage. Catching his breath, he wills his fingers to let go and reminds himself he still has two more trips around the top. But on the second time up, you’re looking away, hanging halfway out of the basket, and taking a video. He grips your waist, eyes flying wide and trying to make sure you don’t fall out and to your doom. To which you only giggle loudly, your smile stopping time for the world’s longest minute. And by the third time, he knows this is his very last chance, so he has to go now. Which only has a pressure the weight of 10,000 pounds settling on his shoulders, his palms sweaty, stomach churning, and breath refusing to pass smoothly through his lungs.
“Joong?” You call curiously, as the basket reaches its peak. “Are you okay? You look… constipated, or– I don’t know. Are you not feeling well?”
Your palm, warm and soft, comes to rest in his jaw, your brows pinched with worry. You lean in, just a tad, but it’s enough to cause his heart rate to spike, pounding against his chest so hard he knows you hear it. His eyes zero in on your lips, glossy enough to reflect the bright red emanating from the spinning ride across from the two of you, and he tries to smile. Hopes he smiles.
“Yeah, I’m good,” He speaks on autopilot. And then he’s pulling away and looking out into the night sky, and the ride begins its descent, gulping down breaths of air. But his heart is still racing, and he feels your eyes burning into him. Fortunately, you say nothing and allow him the time he needs to calm down.
The ride comes to a harsh halt every few seconds, followed each time by the clamber of different passengers exiting their respective baskets. And after a few long moments of silence, your head is dropping into the dip of his neck, your arms wrapping around the one of his that’s closest to you, and you snuggle into his side.
“Isn’t it so pretty?” You question softly, the faint scent of something dark and sweet curling up his nose.
“Yeah,” He forces out. And it is, sitting eye to eye with twinkling stars, they’re able to see across the entirety of the carnival, lights glittering beneath them.
But even with a sight as pretty as this, and a girl as beautiful as you, Hongjoong can’t help the pebble of frustration that settles in his chest. One that only grows more once they exit the ride, heavy enough to pull his heart right down with it. Yet another lost opportunity because he just can’t seem to get it together, and he just feels sick with disappointment, a dark cloud forming over his head.
But he doesn’t want to ruin this night for you, so he pulls himself together. Or he tries to. Even more so when you lace your fingers with his because, although it doesn’t completely ease the tension, it reminds him that he still has you. And that in itself is the biggest win of all.
None the wiser to his inner turmoil, you’re bouncing on your toes, standing quite literally in the middle of the path, trying to decide where to go next. Hongjoong merely watches you, a fondness in his eyes he’s well aware of.
“Would you guys like a picture?” A cheery voice chirps from his side. They hold up the professional-looking camera with a smile. From the looks of their outfit, he assumes they’re part of the carnival staff. When you look back at him, a hopeful question in your dark gaze, Hongjoong nods.
He’s quick to hand over the cash before you can pull anything out of your purse, moving obediently as you position the two of you so that the glowing Ferris wheel stands perfectly centered behind you.
Hongjoong doesn’t notice how close you’re standing, pressing your body against his with very little space in between. Or, how tightly one of your hands is squeezing his waist, fingers gripping the fabric of his T-shirt. He doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your voice or the twinkle in your eye when you ask, “Ready?” Or when you hop up on your toes, pulling him closer. He doesn’t have a chance to.
The next thing he knows, the two of you are standing chest to chest, one hand still squeezing his waist, but the other is on his cheek, turning his neck toward you as you press your soft lips to his.
The first touch is tentative, a barely there brush that signals hesitance. Even still, it’s enough to set off fireworks in Hongjoong’s mind, ones that explode bright and brilliant behind his lids before twinkling down in tiny sparks that travel across his skin.
And then your hesitance is gone, and you’re pressing into him fully, lips moving over his in a practiced perfection. One that has him losing all train of thought and awareness of time. Hongjoong wasn’t aware you practiced magic, but that must be the way everything around him suddenly disappears. His hands sink into your hips as the hand you have on his cheek slides into his hair. There’s a warmth spreading through him that he’s never known he’s craved until now, already sure he’s addicted, that no amount of you will ever be enough. It starts on his lips and travels quickly through his body, his ears, his fingers, his belly, his toes.
And then with the flash of a light and the quiet click! of a camera, your warmth is gone, fizzling out and leaving a searing burn.
The way his lips trail after you is visceral, his lids suddenly heavy. He inhales a deep breath, and your giggle plays in his ears. But this time the sound is different, something distinctly light in its pitch, a giddy drunkenness to its tone. He’s hooked.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” You note, still clutching the fabric of his shirt much like his grip on your hips. Eyes lidded, your teeth sink into your lip, a cheeky grin on your face, and he swallows hard, wanting nothing more than to dive back into you.
Then you’re spinning, gathering the QR code needed to collect your photo, and thanking the photographer. Hongjoong stands in place, mind whirring as he tries to remember who he is, where they are, and what he’d been doing.
Your fingers are in his just as he starts to come back to, dark eyes still holding a certain twinkle. A chaste kiss is placed on his lips, and you say, “C’mon, silly. We have more rides to try!”