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everyone who knows them thinks they’re easy to understand.
jongho is steady. quiet in a way that feels intentional. he’s the kind of person who notices when a chair wobbles and fixes it without saying anything, who remembers the brand of tea yeosang likes and buys it on autopilot. he doesn’t talk much about his feelings. he shows them in practical ways, in the way he stands a little closer on crowded sidewalks, in the way he always makes sure yeosang gets home safe.
yeosang notices everything.
he’s softer around the edges, thoughtful, prone to getting lost in his own head. he speaks gently, but he feels deeply, emotions settling in his chest and refusing to move. he’s expressive without meaning to be, every thought written plainly on his face. when something matters to him, it shows.
they are roommates. that’s the word everyone uses. shared apartment near campus. shared routines. shared silences that feel full instead of awkward.
on a random friday afternoon, yeosang says he wants to go out, just for a bit, and jongho nods, agreeing.
they walk through the city together. the air is cool but not unpleasant. they stop at a small bookstore first, looking thru the shelves. yeosangs fingers linger over paperbacks and postcards, fingers brushing glossy covers as he reads snippets aloud. jongho follows a step behind, pretending not to smile.
they end up at a café after. it’s warm inside, crowded but comfortable. they sit close, knees almost touching. yeosang talks with his hands while jongho listens and stares as his face like he’s committing his features to memory.
someone approaches yeosang while jongho is paying. just a stranger. friendly, curious about the book yeosang is holding. yeosang answers politely, smiling because that’s what he does. he doesn’t notice the way the stranger leans in too close.
jongho does.
the feeling hits him sharp and sudden. jealousy. unfamiliar and hot in his chest. it catches him off guard, the instinctive urge to step in, to put himself between them. his jaw tightens before he realizes it.
when the stranger finally leaves, jongho moves closer without thinking, standing just a little too near, presence unmistakable.
“you ready,” he asks.
yeosang looks up, blinking. “yeah. sorry.”
“you didn’t do anything,” jongho says quickly.
yeosang studies him, sensing something different, but lets it go.
the walk home is quieter. not awkward. just charged. jongho keeps glancing over, checking if yeosang is cold, if he’s walking too close to the street. yeosang feels the tension rolling off him, something unsaid hanging between them.
back at the apartment, yeosang kicks off his shoes and heads to his room to answer an incoming call. jongho goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, he leans against the counter and tries to slow his breathing.
he doesn’t mean to listen.
but the walls are thin, very thin and yeosang’s voice carries.
“yeah,” yeosang says softly. “we went out together.”
a pause.
“no, not like a date. just..us.”
jongho’s chest tightens.
another pause. longer this time.
“…i know.”
jongho stills completely.
“i think,” yeosang continues, voice quieter now, fragile. “i think i’m in love with him.”
the words land heavy and perfect all at once.
jongho exhales shakily, heart pounding so loud he’s sure it can be heard down the hall. yeosang keeps talking, the confession spilling now like it’s been waiting for permission. he talks about small things.
the time jongho gave him his gloves when it was freezing out. blankets. the way jongho always notices when he hasn’t eaten.
“it scares me,” yeosang admits. “what if i ruin everything.”
the call ends.
jongho is still standing there when yeosang walks back into the living room, phone in hand, expression dazed like he’s just said something out loud that can’t be taken back.
their eyes meet.
everything else disappears.
“hey,” yeosang says quietly.
jongho sets the glass down with care, like the movement matters. “were you talking to seonghwa?”
yeosang freezes, then nods. “yeah.”
silence hums between them.
jongho steps closer. then closer again. until yeosang’s back presses into the couch.
“…i heard you,” jongho says, voice low. “not all of it. just enough.”
yeosang swallows. “oh.”
“you don’t have to explain,” jongho adds immediately. “i wasn’t trying to listen.”
yeosang’s voice shakes. “and...”
jongho lifts a hand, hesitates, then cups yeosang’s jaw. warm. steady. grounding.
“and i don’t want you to be scared.”
something in yeosang breaks open.
“jongho,” he whispers.
“can i?” jongho asks him.
“yes.”
jongho kisses him.
it’s gentle at first. unhurried. like he’s checking in with every second. yeosang melts instantly, hands gripping jongho’s hoodie, breath catching when jongho deepens the kiss just enough to make his knees weak.
jongho guides him back into the couch, not trapping him, just close. his hand settles at yeosang’s waist like it belongs there. like it always has.
yeosang loses composure fast. quiet moans slip out of him without permission. his fingers tremble as they cling to jongho, needing something solid.
jongho stays quiet, focused, kissing him with an intensity that feels like restraint finally giving way. his thumb brushes along yeosang’s cheek, then his neck, touch deliberate and devastating.
when jongho finally pulls back, their foreheads rest together. both of them breathing hard.
“fucking finally. i was going insane” jongho murmurs.
yeosang chuckles, still catching his breath “good to know i wasn’t alone.”
later, they’re curled together under the same blanket in yeosangs bed. jongho’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close. his head tucked beneath jongho’s chin, listening to his heartbeat slow.
jongho presses a soft kiss into his hair. “together?”
yeosang smiles, eyes closed. “yeah.”