Work Text:
Jihoon’s lost.
He knows exactly where he stands and yet, he’s lost.
The sound of his footsteps rumble beneath him, the wooden floors echoing back at him, as if it’s listening to the words hidden between the lines of his own beating heart.
He watches as the lines of his body fit into numerous angles, a picture flashing between each movement. A picture of when he was small, when he thought one step would help him reach it all.
In his true nature, Jihoon’s sensitive. The waves behind him can only push him down so many times before he stumbles.
And yet, his eyes stay sharp. His fingers grip against his own skin, knuckles turning white.
He watches, as his own body listens to his command, how he matches his own visions, how his nerves tie up into the shape of the music.
The ground stops by the last step. The vibration lingers, skin tingling in the echoes of his own voice.
Jihoon stares at the mirror, watching as the tape on the wall holds on for dear life, its corners unlatching themselves from the mirror.
His breaths are heaving, hands shaking as they drop.
He falls, knees giving up on him. His fingertips grip on the floor, the world spinning on its axis.
Drops of sweat roll down the strands of Jihoon’s hair, scattering the floor in his exhaustion.
His back leans against the floor, ceiling painted in bright lights. The weight of the world is pushing against his chest. It pushes and pushes, its fingers passing through the shakiness of his flesh and squeezing his heart.
He sucks in a breath, a sting breezing through the bottom of his lungs. Jihoon grimaces, his insides grasping for air, holding onto nothing. It tries to pull him out of the water, pushing against the current.
Jihoon can’t help himself. Tears roll down his cheek as he forces himself to sit up. The air still isn’t there, and it squeezes at his organs, like it’s about to crush him into a pulp.
It barely registers, the door opening, a hand on his shoulder, a face in front of him.
“—hoon. Jihoon, can you hear me?” The person’s blurry, face distorted in whatever blindness Jihoon’s currently under. “It’s me, Youngae-hyung. I’m here. Breathe, Jihoon, breathe.”
Jihoon tries to listen, tries to grab the hand that’s reaching out to him. He barely holds on, mind bubbling in what feels like a thousand emotions at once.
“I’m, I can't— I can’t breathe, hyung. I— fuck, I. Shit.”
“Yes, you can. I know you can.” Youngjae holds onto his shoulders, warmth seeing into his skin. “Breathe with me, Jihoon.”
They breathe, they count, Youngjae whispers, he holds.
The tide slowly turns over, washing Jihoon up on the shore.
His lungs are still strung tight, hands tingling in numbness. The air is scarce, but it’s slowly making its way back to him, breath by breath.
He tries his best to force himself, to push himself to look. His eyelashes flutter as he looks up, staring into Youngjae’s eyes.
Air leaves his lungs, a sigh breaking through the silence. The waves in Youngjae’s eyes falter, worry fading into the dark. Jihoon watches, careful, as Youngjae offers him a smile.
It’s soft, gentle, filled with kindness, and relief.
“Hey. Feeling better?” Youngjae whispers as his arm rests against Jihoon’s back. His warmth pulls Jihoon closer to Youngjae, tying him to the ground.
“A little.”
Youngjae hears the sincerity, as well as the tremble echoing through his words. He moves closer. Space nonexistent between them.
Jihoon almost entirely melts into Youngjae’s hold.
“You’re doing so well, Jihoon.” Youngjae rubs his hand against Jihoon’s skin, gentle and giving. “Thank you for always working hard for our team.”
The tears fall silently, drop by drop hitting the floor in the rhythm of Jihoon’s heart. Bit by bit, it slows down, latching onto Youngjae’s rhythm and syncing into his heart.
Jihoon takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Jihoon-ah.”
In a second, Youngjae shifts his position, moving to kneel in front of Jihoon’s slouched figure.
He’s careful, reaching over to rest his hands on Jihoon’s tear-stained cheeks. His thumbs caress over the expanse of his skin, watching as Jihoon’s eyes close, moving closer into his warmth.
Youngjae leans in, lips pressing against Jihoon’s forehead. He leaves kisses atop his eyelids, on his nose, and finally, on Jihoon’s pink lips.
Youngjae’s tongue runs over Jihoon’s lips, an offer, a plea. At this, Jihoon surrenders. His whole body leans in, trying to keep him close to him, to merge their souls together into one.
Jihoon chases Youngjae’s lips as he pulls away, eyes dripping with fondness.
“Do you want some ice cream before we head home?”
Jihoon chuckles at the words, sniffles following right after. He stares into Youngjae’s eyes and he feels it.
He feels the sincerity in his heart and the intentions of his touch. Jihoon feels the intensity of his gaze, and the gentleness of Youngjae’s lips. He feels it in the marrow in his bones, and in the blood running through his veins.
He feels loved.
He gives in, pulling Youngjae in for another kiss. The words that linger under their tongues are stolen by the other, swallowed into their hearts. No words are said aloud and yet, all of them are embedded into their souls.
Jihoon smiles before he says, “Yeah, ice cream would be great.”
They walk out of the company building, into the streets they’ve engraved into their minds.
The moon is embarrassed. Its pull of gravity crashes the waves against the shore, and yet, Youngjae has pulled Jihoon out of the storm.
Their arms brush against one another, feet stepping in sync.