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“Move, hyung,” Sanghyuk pushes lightly at Jaehwan’s shoulder, expecting that Jaehwan will make some space for him for him to lie down too on the small waiting room sofa. Jaehwan doesn’t budge.
“This is the Lee clan sofa of my ancestors. I carried it here on my back from my village in the mountains and only people surnamed Lee can-” Jaehwan starts, and Sanghyuk affectionately tunes him out, draping himself over Jaehwan’s thankfully-broad back and trying his best to get comfortable.
“Hyukkie, you’re going to pancake me,” Jaehwan grumbles breathlessly, happily making up his own verbs.
“That’s why I told you to move,” Sanghyuk answers, eyes already closing.
“If anyone bothered to tell me before I became an idol how much of my life I was going to spend wasting in music show waiting rooms I would have thought twice about becoming a trainee,” Jaehwan complains after a while, once Sanghyuk has found a secure spot on his back and he doesn’t have Sanghyuk’s elbows digging into him anymore.
“I don’t mind, my new mattress is pretty nice,” Sanghyuk murmurs. He sounds like he’s a minute away from falling asleep – all of them are tired as hell, it’s true – but it’s the kind of tired they’ve learnt to live with. Jaehwan’s almost perfected Wonsik’s skill of being able to fall asleep instantly anywhere. However, Jaehwan’s back being comfortable enough for all of 1.84m of Sanghyuk to fall asleep on is stretching it.
Jaehwan rolls inwards a bit, dislodging Sanghyuk slightly, and Sanghyuk slides half-onto the sofa with a sigh. They’re both too big, really, to share this one narrow sofa, but hell if Jaehwan isn’t going to try. Sanghyuk’s warm and squishy thanks to his fat winter jacket, and warm and squishy Sanghyuk is always, always a treat.
“If you sleep now you’re going to be dazed when we have to go back on stage,” Jaehwan says to Sanghyuk, voice low and just for Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk’s left hand is lying next to Jaehwan’s own left hand – he can’t really see what position Sanghyuk is in from where Jaehwan is lying on his stomach – but Jaehwan lifts one perfectly-manicured finger and lets it stroke the back of Sanghyuk’s hand.
“Don’t care,” Sanghyuk mumbles, sleep-soft. Jaehwan hears the rumble of his voice through his body. Sanghyuk is warm, warm, warm.
Jaehwan thinks of possession, of familiarity, of boundaries and permission, of affection and the different ways people show it. The privilege of being the one allowed this close; whose touch is always welcome – they both understand the significance of this very well. This is their I love you and you are special to me.
Sanghyuk’s breathing deepens after barely five minutes, even with all the bustle of the stylists and other staff around them – the other members are all similarly vegetating in different corners – and Jaehwan realises just how dead tired Sanghyuk must be. And of all the chairs and couches in the room, he picked Jaehwan’s. Jaehwan briefly imagines – doesn’t let himself dwell on it or begin to fantasize – that it’s because Sanghyuk feels safe with him. What a ridiculous notion, though, really; him, walking disaster Lee Jaehwan, protecting overgrown muscles Han Sanghyuk.
It’s barely twenty-five minutes before they’re being told to get ready again – Jaehwan sees Taekwoon doesn’t even bother to look up, because they all know that ‘get ready now’ means ‘get ready and wait for another twenty minutes’. Sanghyuk is still asleep and Jaehwan is extremely uncomfortable from Sanghyuk’s weight half on top of him and the weird position they’re both in – uncomfortable in a ‘this is starting to hurt’ way – but he doesn’t jostle Sanghyuk awake so he can move. Pins and needles feel interesting, anyway, and Jaehwan goes off in a daydream about what exactly is going on with the blood and cells in the arm that’s trapped underneath Sanghyuk and slowly going numb.
Finally, ‘get ready now’ truly means ‘get ready now’ and Hakyeon goes around getting all of them up. Hakyeon slowly pulls Sanghyuk to his feet off Jaehwan and Jaehwan is right – Sanghyuk is in a helpless daze, just standing there like a reanimated corpse. Jaehwan straightens his outfit for him as the stylists check his face and hair and then tows him by the elbow – not the hand; holding hands would be too… no – towards the door. Sanghyuk follows to the stage obediently, quiet for once.
That’s too much to ask from Jaehwan, however, but all through his chatter with Hakyeon and Hongbin one ear and one eye is on Sanghyuk who is making his own eyes open as wide as they can go to pass for liveliness.
“Stop it, you look terrifying,” Jaehwan pokes him in the cheek.
“Good,” Sanghyuk replies.
Jaehwan is rather looking forward to the ride back in the van later, because of the way he’s going to manoeuvre things so that he’s the one who gets to sit next to Sanghyuk and he’s the one sleepy Sanghyuk will use as a pillow all the way home. Not that Sanghyuk would use anyone else as a pillow – but Jaehwan gives himself the excuse he’s being altruistic and allowing Sanghyuk to have a more comfortable ride back to the dorm. The sweet weight of Sanghyuk’s head on his shoulder and warmth all along their touching sides are just bonuses.
They win number one today. The feeling in Jaehwan’s chest is rather like when Sanghyuk smiles at him, as he’s doing now across the encore stage. This disease is appalling and incurable, Jaehwan sighs silently. Sanghyukitis. Gross.
Their little fingers entwine briefly as they exit the stage, the trophy, surprisingly heavy, in Sanghyuk’s other hand. Jaehwan rather thinks he is a prize far more valuable – or at least interesting – than the number one trophy, and Sanghyuk seems to agree because he hands the trophy off to Wonsik and their hands bump again, with intent this time.
We are our own private universe, Jaehwan muses, feeling poetic. He is the star I revolve around –
Sanghyuk makes a fart sound at him. Jaehwan scowls, wondering if Sanghyuk is a mindreader.
“Time to go home, old man,” Sanghyuk tells him, and Jaehwan follows.
*