Work Text:
Everything is orange.
The sun is low in the sky, her rays stretching across the horizon and painting everything with these golden, citrus hues. The cicadas lull in and out of their hum, as do the frogs by the river bed, a perfectly clement evening.
Sanghyuk slides the door closed behind him and his eyes drift to the porch stairs. Woonhak is sat on the last one, his long legs outstretched in front of him, bare feet in the grass. His jeans are rolled midway up his calves and the pale yellow of his t-shirt deepens the honeyed tan of his skin. He suits this, being sprawled beneath the sun, surrounded by summer air and endless warmth.
Seemingly noticing Sanghyuk's presence, like there's some invisible pull, Woonhak's head turns. The smile that blooms across his face is almost startling. Sanghyuk wonders how the earth can survive with two suns like this.
"Hey," Woonhak greets him sweetly. "How was the nap?"
Sanghyuk laughs softly. He rolls his head to the side, stretching his neck. "It was good— I didn't expect to be out for so long."
Woonhak's eyes flash with mirth. "I did wear you out a little, I suppose.."
Unfortunately, it makes Sanghyuk's cheeks get flushed. He rolls his eyes and starts to walk closer. "Don't be gross."
And Woonhak laughs, easy and carefree in a way Sanghyuk can only really be envious of, but he doesn't push it. Sanghyuk appreciates him deeply for that; Woonhak so easily could continue to tease him for being cagey about the thing they've got going on, but he knows Sanghyuk well enough to know when to leave it alone.
Sanghyuk thinks he's been afraid since the moment he was born.
According to his mother, it took him hours to stop crying when she first had him— she's said it over and over again throughout his life, that he was the most fussy infant out of him and his siblings. A problem child. A hassle. Too much. She viewed his sensitivity as a negative… so he tried to be different.
Over years, he became jaded and detached. He stopped telling his parents things, and he stopped allowing himself to show the parts of him others viewed as weak. He built walls around himself until he didn't remember what it felt like to be truly seen. Until the walls became suffocating.
Irrevocably, Woonhak has changed everything.
Sanghyuk sits beside him. He looks out towards the sun, her light slowly dimming as she dips passed the tree line. They sit in silence for a long time, side by side, and slowly the orange starts to fade. The golden glow is replaced by deep blues and indigos. The cicadas still sing, and the air is still warm, even as stars start to appear in the sky, dappled between the fluffy gray clouds.
Sanghyuk leans into him, curled lightly into his side and Woonhak wraps an arm around him like he always does. Woonhak is a constant— no mater the circumstances, no matter how messed up Sanghyuk feels in his own head, Woonhak is there to love him anyway.
Does Sanghyuk feel worthy of it? No. He doubts he ever will, but as Woonhak's hand traces up and down the skin of his arm and he turns at Sanghyuk to smile, it seems just a bit more possible that one day he might. The moon bathes him in a white-ish sapphire and Sanghyuk thinks it's remarkable that someone can suit blue just as well as orange, and how he looks just as alive and heavenly now as he did when the sun was the thing casting light onto his features.
And really, Sanghyuk loves him. It's the kind of love that scares him, because he feels so much but has never been the best at explaining it. What he feels for Woonhak doesn't fit neatly in a box. If he tried to make it, it would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He loves him fiercely, and that's the scariest part.
"Are you alright, hyung?" Woonhak asks. "You look like you're overthi—"
Sanghyuk cuts him off, a hand curling under his jaw and their mouths pressing together. Woonhak makes a small noise of surprise, but he melts into it, the arm around Sanghyuk tightening. Sanghyuk kisses him a little too hard and their teeth clash awkwardly and it's still magical, because it's Woonhak.
Woonhak breaks away with a soft laugh, and the warmth of it strikes Sanghyuk right in his heart. "We should go back inside—I think it's gonna rain."
"How can you tell?" Sanghyuk asks. His hand is still on Woonhak's face, thumb brushing gently over his soft cheek. Woonhak leans into his touch, puppy-like. It's cute.
"Can't you smell it?"
Sanghyuk raise an eyebrow and turns towards the open air, inhaling. He supposes he can— there's a thick, earthy scent that fills his senses. Petrichor. "Yeah—I don't mind," he says, looking back at Woonhak. "You like the rain, don't you?"
Woonhak grins, his teeth catching the light of the moon. "I like you."
He scoffs, but it makes Sanghyuk's chest flip, utterly embarrassing. "Shut up," he slips his hand to the back of Woonhak's neck and guides him back in, kissing him quiet.
A raindrop hits his cheek just moments later and Sanghyuk pays it no mind. He slides himself into Woonhak's lap, knees pressing into the stairs, fingers tangling in his hair. They kiss, and kiss, and the rain starts to fall and Sanghyuk just doesn't care. It soaks through his clothes but at least it's still warm. He loses himself in the feeling of being consumed by Woonhak; his lips, his hands, the heat, the rain.
His arms loop around Woonhak's neck and hands squeeze at Sanghyuk's hips and it's lovely. Sanghyuk wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
The rain picks up, and Woonhak pulls away again, his eyes sparkling. "We can't keep making out, we're gonna drown."
Sanghyuk goes to complain but he doesn't get a chance— Woonhak is hauling him up, holding him tightly, and Sanghyuk's legs wrapping around his hips to keep himself from falling. Woonhak doesn't put him down until they're inside again, dripping all over the hardwood floors.
They shuck their wet clothes and change into fresh ones. Sanghyuk haphazardly dries off his hair with a towel and then drapes it over Woonhak's head. The younger leans down, smiling, as Sanghyuk dries his hair for him too. He's more careful, doing it for Woonhak than with himself. Woonhak deserves only the gentlest of hands to handle his heart— Sanghyuk has made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he won't with this. Not with him.
Sanghyuk thinks he's been afraid since the moment he was born, but it's in moments like this, wandering into the kitchen with damp hair and warm clothes, that he feels differently. Woonhak insists on whipping them up some sort of dinner, even though Sanghyuk is usually the one that cooks, so Sanghyuk sits at the kitchen table and watches him. A feeling of peace settles over him, something warm and genuine and special.
The overhead kitchen lights are orange, and the fridge light is blue, and Sanghyuk loves Woonhak.