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“you should carry me home.”
donghyun laughs—a soft breath into the lingering summer breeze still warm from the heat of the day. “the walk isn’t far.”
“my legs are tired,” dongmin whines. he turns to face donghyun with rounded eyes and a slight downturn to his mouth as he purposefully drags his right foot on the pavement—to really drive his point home. “it’s my birthday. you have to do what i say.”
the words dance around each other in the air and settle into donghyun’s chest, cotton-y and warm, like the last embers of a fire he’s been tending all night.
it is indeed his birthday. donghyun has been collecting bits of dongmin all night, cataloguing the details that make him, well, him. the way dongmin’s mouth twists, a half-moon curve, when he’s fighting a laugh at one of sanghyeok’s terrible puns. the tilt of his head when he sips his drink, exposing the line of his throat, pale and vulnerable under the dim restaurant lights. the faint scratch in his voice after hours of talking, a roughness that donghyun wants to bottle and keep, to pour out on nights when he’s alone.
dongmin rarely asks for things like this in front of their friends—too conscious of how it might look, too careful to keep his softness tucked away—but when it’s just the two of them, little pieces slip through. a quieter voice, softer edged words, syrup slipping off his tongue at the end.
he loves this dongmin—the one who lets his guard down when it’s just them, when the world narrows to the space between their footsteps. he loves every dongmin he has ever known, but he will claim favorites.
in front of their friends, dongmin is loving but measured, his affection tucked into quiet glances, a hand brushing donghyun’s briefly under the table. but here, on this empty street, dongmin’s softness spills out like starlight onto the street and donghyun drinks it in, greedy for every piece that’s his alone.
it’s dongmin’s birthday, yes, but donghyun feels like the one receiving gifts.
“you’re not that tired, birthday boy,” donghyun teases, stepping closer, their shoulders brushing. “you just want to boss me around.”
dongmin huffs, but his eyes are bright, catching the glow of a streetlamp like they’re made of glass. “i could be,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, a spark that makes donghyun’s pulse quicken.
“you’re trailing,” he adds after a moment, but it’s gentler than the words deserve, and donghyun knows it’s an invitation.
he hops a step forward without thinking, assuming dongmin just craves for him to be closer, but once their hands find each other he’s letting dongmin draw him into the shadowed mouth of an alcove between buildings.
there’s no hesitation in the way dongmin crowds him back against the cool brick. his hands find donghyun’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and donghyun’s hands are already in dongmin’s hair, threading through the soft strands that smell faintly of the night air and dongmin’s shampoo.
their lips meet, and it’s not hurried, not desperate yet. just a meeting that they’ve been orbiting each other all night and this is the inevitable collision.
dongmin tastes like the sweet soju he was sipping, like the cake they all shared, like something donghyun could live on if the world asked him to.
his lips are warm, pliant, and donghyun tries to memorize this too—the way dongmin sighs into the kiss, a small sound that vibrates against donghyun’s mouth; the way his fingers tighten briefly, like he’s anchoring himself; the way his body leans into donghyun’s, trusting, open. donghyun loves the weight of him, the solidness of dongmin’s frame, the way he fits here, in this moment, like he was carved for it.
he thinks about the first time they kissed, how nervous dongmin had been, how he’d covered it with a smirk that didn’t fool donghyun for a second. now, there’s nothing nervous about him—just the steady press of lips, the subtle curve of a smile against donghyun’s mouth, the quiet hum in his throat when donghyun’s fingers slip into his hair.
he pulls back just enough to see dongmin’s face, flushed and soft in the filtered light, his eyes half-lidded but sharp with something that makes donghyun’s breath catch.
“isn’t this me doing what you say?” donghyun murmurs, but there’s no bite to it, only fondness, thick and heavy in his throat.
dongmin’s mouth curves—not quite a smile, but enough to show he’s listening. “not enough.”
fingers flex at donghyun’s waist, tugging him closer. dongmin parts his lips just enough for donghyun to catch the warmth of his breath before their mouths fit together again. and when they do, there’s a sudden urgency, like he’s been holding it back all night and can’t anymore. his kiss is deeper now, hungrier, a slow drag of his mouth that makes donghyun’s pulse stutter.
his lips part to let donghyun in, and donghyun doesn’t hesitate. their tongues meet, a slow, deliberate slide that sends heat curling through donghyun’s veins, pooling low in his gut.
dongmin’s teeth graze donghyun’s lower lip, not quite a bite but enough to make donghyun’s breath hitch, a soft sound swallowed by the wet heat of dongmin’s mouth. color begins to shade over his cheeks—his want is encouraged, but he still gets shy sometimes.
almost as if to find level ground, to meet in the middle so donghyun doesn’t feel so bare, dongmin soon whines—a small, needy sound that vibrates against donghyun’s lips, raw and unfiltered. it goes to donghyun’s head and his dick and his heart all at once. somehow.
the brick wall is cold against donghyun’s back, a sharp contrast to the heat of dongmin’s body pressed against him, chest to chest, hips brushing just enough to make donghyun’s pulse stutter. dongmin’s tongue moves with purpose now, tracing the edge of donghyun’s teeth, curling against the roof of his mouth, and donghyun meets him with equal need, chasing the taste of him, the way dongmin’s breath catches when donghyun sucks lightly on his tongue.
it’s not frantic, but it’s intense, a slow-burning heat that threatens to consume them if they let it. dongmin’s whine comes again, softer this time, muffled against donghyun’s lips, and it’s enough to make donghyun’s knees feel unsteady, his hands sliding from dongmin’s hair to cup his jaw, thumbs brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbones.
dongmin’s skin is warm, flushed, and donghyun can feel the faint tremor in his frame, like he’s holding himself back from pushing closer, from letting the kiss spill into something more right here.
they break apart, breaths mingling in the small space between them. dongmin’s lips are slick, slightly swollen, and donghyun can’t help but trace the curve of them with his thumb, memorizing the way they glisten in the dim light. dongmin’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but there’s a softness there too, a vulnerability that makes donghyun’s chest ache.
“enough?” donghyun asks, voice barely above a whisper, teasing but gentle.
dongmin huffs, a half-laugh, half-pout. “not really,” he answers, honest, but his tone is softer now, less desperate, more like he’s savoring the moment. his hands slide up from donghyun’s waist to his ribs, fingers splaying wide like he’s trying to hold as much of donghyun as he can.
sometimes donghyun wishes that he could shrink down to a size that would be suitable for dongmin to consume like he sometimes seems like he’d like to. though simultaneously he craves the same for himself—to be able to gather dongmin entirely in his hands to hold everything he loves in his palms, to protect it forever.
donghyun has never considered himself to be a selfish person, but sometimes in love he feels the pull of selfish desires. he sometimes feels overwhelmed with the love that he feels so deeply for dongmin that he wants to shield him from anything that could even brush a stain on the home of that love.
the love that their friends hold for dongmin as well—albeit different from his own—fills donghyun with warmth all the same. its pure selfishness to want to steal him away on a day so special as his birthday, to be satisfied with moments like this one where donghyun can be the sole reception of his affection.
koi are said to live for decades if cared for well enough. donghyun thinks loving dongmin is the same—quiet tending, feeding him warmth, watching him grow into himself year after year. birthdays are just the ripples on the surface, marking time without disturbing the depths. it’s a time where the love is multiplied and fed enough to grow into the next year.
he cannot do that alone or if he were small enough to fit into dongmin’s palm or the same for the opposite. dongmin continues to grow alongside him because donghyun continues to make the space for him to do so and feed him with his love.
donghyun’s thumb lingers at the edge of dongmin’s mouth, feeling the faint give of his bottom lip, warm and damp from the kiss. the thought that he could press his mouth there again, could stay like this forever, is dizzying in its simplicity. his chest tightens, and before he can think better of it, his hands are cupping dongmin’s face, thumbs at his cheekbones, palms bracketing the flushed heat of his skin.
dongmin blinks, startled, the tips of his ears pinking under the streetlight. “yah—what are you doing?” he mutters, but his voice is low, lacking any real bite.
“just—” donghyun swallows, unsure how to explain the way his ribs feel too small for his heart, how the want is pressing at every seam. “just let me.”
dongmin makes a sound halfway between a scoff and something softer, a little bleh noise that tries to pass for annoyance. “you’re so—” he starts, but whatever word he was going to use disappears when donghyun squeezes his cheeks gently, grinning at him like he’s holding something rare.
“angel,” donghyun says, and it’s almost a sigh, like the word has been sitting on his tongue for too long. “happy birthday.”
dongmin freezes for half a breath, the faintest crease forming between his brows, but it melts as quickly as it comes. “baby,” he says like a complaint, except it’s quiet, and his hands are still on donghyun’s ribs, thumbs stroking slow arcs that give him away completely.
donghyun smiles—soft, almost indulgent—and leans in until their foreheads touch. he can feel the warmth radiating off dongmin, steady and alive, like the heat of sun-warmed water. koi don’t thrive alone; they grow most in shared currents, fed and sheltered in the presence of others. donghyun thinks maybe they’re like that too—expanding in the space they’ve made for each other, year after year, ripple after ripple.
“i love you,” donghyun murmurs, and dongmin huffs like he’s going to deny it, but doesn’t. instead, he tilts forward just enough to brush his mouth against donghyun’s again, fleeting but sure, the kind of kiss that feels like a seal on something wordless.
“lets fuck when we get home,” dongmin says against his lips, an attempt to be blunt, but donghyun feels the edges of him melt all over again.
home tonight is dongmin’s apartment but it could be said that home is truly wherever they are together.
donghyun huffs a laugh into the small space between them, not pulling back. “romantic,” he says, though his hand is still cradling the side of dongmin’s face like it’s something breakable.
dongmin leans back just enough for donghyun to see the faint smirk playing at his mouth, but his eyes—dark, a little glassy from the drinks—don’t quite match the teasing. “what? it’s my birthday,” he says, tone light, like it’s the only explanation needed.
“mm.” donghyun keeps his hands where they are, cupping his jaw, thumbs pressing into the warm skin just under his ears. “guess that means you get whatever you want.”
“exactly,” dongmin says, but there’s a softness in it now, the faintest give at the corners of his mouth. he holds donghyun’s gaze for a beat longer than necessary, like maybe he’s letting himself be looked at.
donghyun wants to pull him in again, but dongmin slips his hands from donghyun’s ribs and tugs him toward the mouth of the alley instead.
they fall into step, fingers brushing, then tangling properly. dongmin looks forward, not at him, but the grip is firm, almost absentmindedly protective.
half a block later, when the traffic noise swells and they’re crossing under the orange wash of a streetlight, dongmin speaks again, quiet enough that it’s nearly lost in the hum of the city. “love you too, you know.”
donghyun feels it settle somewhere deep, heavier and sweeter than any promise. he squeezes dongmin’s hand once, hard, and sneaks a kiss to his cheek.
starting tonight, the earth will make another lap around the sun as a home to dongmin and the love he holds. donghyun will only keep orbiting closer, pulled by the gravity of him, until the next one comes.