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Hyeongjun has had a miserable day.
He missed his alarm and woke up late. After spending the whole night tossing and turning, he had finally fallen into a deep sleep, leaving him totally knocked out and sleeping right through his alarm. In his haste to get out the door he neglected to check the weather, and halfway through his walk it started to drizzle, soaking through his thin hoodie. He eventually made it to band practice, and he knows the late fee put in place by the members is meant to incentivize the ones with poor time management, but it felt like salt in the wound. Band practice concluded with more mistakes than he would’ve liked.
Hyeongjun was scheduled for a lesson with his guitar instructor after the band practice. Not even spending two hours playing guitar had warmed up his hands—they stayed stiff, not behaving, making him more and more frustrated as time passed. To make it worse, after the session finished, his instructor met his gaze and told him something that practically made him nauseous: It feels like you’re stagnating.
Hyeongjun hadn’t known what to say.
You’re incredibly skilled, Hyeongjun, I know you can keep improving. I don’t know why you aren’t trying.
His eyes had bore a hole in the floor in that moment. He was trying, he is trying. He makes attempts at picking up new skills and techniques but his fingers won’t move right so he just resorts to playing the same way he always does and focuses on composition instead, but in the eyes of his coach, that’s the wrong move. Hyeongjun must keep pushing himself or else he risks stagnation, he can’t simply play it safe and keep doing what he’s used to. Burnout sits heavy on the horizon.
When he finally comes home for the day, he anticipates holing himself in his room and practicing until his fingertips are raw. Hyeongjun toes off his shoes in the entryway and shuffles to his room, laying his gig bag on the floor. He stares at the bag, his guitar zipped up inside it. Hyeongjun needs to practice. He’s going to disappoint everyone if he doesn’t.
He reaches for the bag, then lets his hand fall. He needs to practice. Frustration wells up inside his chest, a combination of anger, anxiety, upset. Turning on his heel, he stomps out of his room, leaving the guitar lying on the floor.
Hyeongjun stands in the hallway looking at the ground. He doesn’t want to think about this anymore, he doesn’t want something he loves so much to cause him anxiety like this. Practice can wait until later tonight, right now, he just needs to get away.
Of their own volition, his feet start moving and lead him to the front door. Hyeongjun exits into the hallway and makes a short trip a few doors down, punching in the code into the digital keypad so he can enter into the other dorm. Not letting himself think too much about it, he walks to Jungsu’s room.
He and Jungsu have been growing close lately. That’s not to say that they were strangers before, but a random night playing video games led to another, and another, and soon enough Hyeongjun found himself spending his evenings with Jungsu more often than not. His presence is comforting, calm, and it’s easy to coax the only other introvert in the group into spending a night in, playing games together. After work he makes his way over to his dorm and curls up on the couch so he can queue up a game. Sometimes the others join in, sometimes it’s just the two of them.
When he knocks on the door, he receives no response. Jungsu isn’t home yet, still out doing something. He thinks he recalls seeing a text in the group chat from Jiseok inviting whoever’s available out for dinner, so he imagines that’s where he has disappeared to. Hyeongjun hadn’t felt like eating. His hand reaches for the knob, and a part of his brain tells him he shouldn’t intrude on Jungsu’s personal space without permission, but another part of him knows that he won’t mind.
Hyeongjun lifts the covers and crawls into Jungsu’s bed. It smells like him—rich coffee, comforting and warm. A large plush dinosaur rests in the crevice between the mattress and the wall and Hyeongjun reaches out, tugging it into his arms and holding it to his chest. His eyelids grow heavy, and with the sweet scent of Jungsu on his tongue, Hyeongjun nods off.
-
Hyeongjun awakens to a warm hand placed on his shoulder.
His eyelids flutter open, and based on the light outside the window, the sun is setting. Jungsu kneels on the floor next to the bed, observing him with a small quirk of his head. He brushes Hyeongjun’s askew hair into place and Hyeongjun almost instinctively leans into it, then stops himself.
“Hey,” Jungsu says when the sleep-induced fog clears from Hyeongjun’s eyes.
“Hi,” he whispers in return, voice raspy.
Jungsu’s eyes roam over him, still tucked beneath his navy bedspread, the dinosaur plush in his arms. He asks, “Why are you in my bed?”
The question is pure curiosity, not accusatory nor judgmental. Hyeongjun hadn’t quite thought out how he was going to talk to Jungsu when he inevitably came home and found him in his bed. In truth, Jungsu has become his respite after a long day during these past few weeks, and today has certainly been tough. He just wanted his presence. He’s only really like this with Jiseok—he craves Jiseok and the sweet, reassuring touch he provides when Hyeongjun is thinking too much, but even then, he has to be coaxed into letting himself allow the desire for intimacy. It’s rare for Hyeongjun to be the one to reach out first when he needs to be vulnerable, yet here he is, crawling into Jungsu’s bed knowing that he’ll have to explain himself now that Jungsu has returned. Maybe it’s on purpose. Maybe Hyeongjun wants to talk about it.
“Just…” he pauses, looking away from Jungsu in embarrassment. There’s no way to say it that doesn’t sound pathetic so he just spits it out: “Just wanted your scent.”
Jungsu chuckles, a smile spreading across his face, his eyes blinking rapidly like they do when he’s flustered. Hyeongjun laughs, too, mostly at himself. He sounds so needy.
“Would you like for me to scent you, then?” Jungsu offers.
Hyeongjun chews the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t scent his packmates very often. Outside of sex—of which he has only had with Jooyeon and Jiseok—he still finds himself shying away from intimacy and physical touch. It just isn’t something he seeks out, but for some reason, he wants it now. He can tell Jungsu is surprised when he nods but he doesn’t say anything, he just stands and allows Hyeongjun to shuffle on the bed to make room for him to crawl under the covers as well.
Hyeongjun tosses the plush aside and replaces it with Jungsu’s warm, broad body. Jungsu stiffens, not expecting Hyeongjun to so readily tuck himself into his chest, but he soon goes pliant when Hyeongjun noses into his neck.
Jungsu’s scent is strong, bold for an Omega, but it suits him. He smells like a coffee shop, like the cozy, warm interior, comforting and pleasing to Hyeongjun’s nose. His scent fills Hyeongjun’s lungs as he breathes him in more and more until it feels like he can taste it on his tongue. He nuzzles against his scent gland, pressing his cheek to it. Jungsu breathes out a laugh, still surprised by this uncharacteristic behavior from him.
“Is there something bothering you?” he finally asks.
Hyeongjun doesn’t answer immediately. He nudges his neck against Jungsu’s shoulder, wanting to smother him in his scent in return. He should talk about it.
All Hyeongjun replies with is, “Yes.”
Jungsu hums. His arms are curled around Hyeongjun’s body, playing with the fabric of his tee. He takes a moment before asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Heaving a breath, the anxiety returns to Hyeongjun. He hasn’t let himself ruminate on what his instructor said ever since he crawled into Jungsu’s bed, too desperate to take his mind off of it. He desires to get it off his chest and loathes the thought of being so vulnerable all the same. Hyeongjun doesn’t like talking about his feelings, and he would rather everyone think he doesn’t have any at all. He’s good at masking them, at making people think that stuff doesn’t bother him, but in truth, he’s an emotional person. Little things get to him. He thinks too much about what other people think of him, he beats himself up over mistakes, and he bottles everything up to put up the facade that he doesn’t care. He knows as soon as he starts talking about it, his emotion will be audible in his voice, and it feels humiliating. His scent develops a bitter undertone as he thinks about it, one that Jungsu picks up on.
“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it. We can just lay here,” he offers, petting the back of Hyeongjun’s head.
“I want to,” Hyeongjun argues. Jungsu goes quiet, giving him the stage. Tucking himself further into Jungsu’s chest, Hyeongjun finally speaks, his words just barely muffled.
“My guitar instructor was giving me critique today,” he begins, a lump already forming in his throat. “Normally I’m good with it. It helps me get better.”
Jungsu hums to show that he’s listening, still holding Hyeongjun close.
“I’ve been attempting new techniques recently but they just haven’t been working out. My instructor, he—” Hyeongjun pauses, holding back a break in his voice. “He said it felt like I was stagnating. That I wasn’t trying hard enough. I am trying, Hyung.”
The tears that were pricking at his eyes now finally fall. He doesn’t sob, he can’t bring himself to fully cry in front of anyone besides his parents, but quiet tears drip from the corner of his eye down his cheek and into his temple. He knows Jungsu, resident crybaby, won’t judge him, but he still can’t do it.
“I know you’re trying, you practice harder than any of us,” Jungsu answers. With mirth in his voice, he continues, “You should get Seungmin to tell him how he hears your guitar every single time he walks past your room.”
Hyeongjun lets out a wet laugh. He feels partially indignant. He practices so hard, repeating his solos over and over until his fingertips are raw, just to be told he isn’t doing enough. As childish is it sounds, he wishes Seungmin would tell his instructor that, just to prove to him that he’s doing his best, that he’s trying to achieve more than his best. He hardly ever skips a day—playing the guitar has never been a chore to him. It’s his passion, one of the things he cares about the most, yet now he’s so frustrated with it. It scares Hyeongjun to think that he could ever come to resent it.
“Sorry I’m all…” Hyeongjun trails off, his voice still throaty with emotion. “Like this.”
Jungsu pulls back to look at Hyeongjun. He hides his face at first, not wanting to be seen in this state, but eventually he brings himself to tilt his head up and look at him. Jungsu tucks Hyeongjun’s bangs behind his ear and swipes his thumb across his cheek to clear the wetness. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs.
“I feel stupid,” Hyeongjun continues, eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t care so much, it’s just constructive criticism, but I just—” he laughs at himself before saying it, “I just had a really bad day.”
“I could tell you were off this morning. I didn’t want to pry.” Jungsu takes a breath, still smoothing Hyeongjun’s hair into place. “I’m glad you came to me.”
Hyeongjun nods, tightening his grip around him. He meets Jungsu’s gaze once more. A small, reassuring smile greets him, one that Hyeongjun weakly returns. They don’t speak, and Hyeongjun silently studies Jungsu’s face for a moment, swallowing heavily before asking,
“Can I kiss you?”
Jungsu’s cheeks break open wider as he grins, eyes sparkling in the low light. They’ve never kissed before. He’s not sure why he wants to do it now—maybe the proximity, their recent growing relationship, the fact that Jungsu’s scent, now enveloping him, has started to feel like something like home, but Hyeongjun wants it, so he asks for it.
Leaning in, Jungsu’s answer to his question is to press his lips to Hyeongjun’s own. He gives chaste, closed-mouth pecks, not pushing too far too quickly. Hyeongjun presses himself closer to Jungsu’s body, curling his hand around the back of his neck, and kisses him with more depth. Their mouths slot into one another, Jungsu’s sweet taste even richer on his tongue, his arms wrapped around Hyeongjun’s waist.
Kissing Jungsu is nice. Hyeongjun hasn’t allowed himself to do this with anyone beyond Jooyeon or Jiseok quite yet, just waiting for the right moment to arise instead of forcing something to happen. Being intimate with Jungsu wasn’t his end goal when they began to bond more, but it doesn’t seem out of place for this to happen. He feels safe with Jungsu, here in his bed, wrapped up in his arms as the two of them make out. A pleased hum escapes Hyeongjun’s mouth when Jungsu threads his hand through his hair.
Jungsu giggles and breaks apart from him. “You’re so cute,” he says breathlessly. He cards his fingers through his hair slowly, Hyeongjun’s eyes falling shut.
Crawling on top of him, Jungsu leans down and takes Hyeongjun’s lips between his own again, continuing to play with his hair. Hyeongjun’s scent grows stronger, going from his usual spice to something sweeter, something just for Jungsu. His body feels hot—he can imagine his neck and ears are flushed red, and when Jungsu shifts atop him he fears that he might be put in a compromising position soon. Hyeongjun pulls away from the heated kiss, pecking the corner of Jungsu’s mouth instead. He makes a soft, confused noise, one that almost makes Hyeongjun feel bad for stopping.
“Can we just lay together now?” he asks. Jungsu can likely pick up on Hyeongjun’s sweeter scent, but he doesn’t question his request. Even though he doesn’t ask, Hyeongjun feels like he needs to explain himself anyway. “I like kissing you, I just—um, I don’t feel like doing more today. Sorry if you wanted to go further.”
Jungsu laughs and rests himself on Hyeongjun’s chest, pinning him under his weight, but the pressure feels kind of nice to Hyeongjun.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I won’t ever do anything you don’t want.”
Hyeongjun lets out a breath. He curls his arms around Jungsu again, holding him close. “Maybe… maybe next time,” he whispers. It’s not out of obligation. Hyeongjun really does want there to be a next time.
“I’ll wait until then,” Jungsu answers.
They lay in silence for a while. It really did help Hyeongjun to get everything off his chest. He’s glad that Jungsu was the one that he went to, and he knows Jungsu is pleased to have been the one sought out, as well. And he might not feel like doing anything more tonight, but he wants to try in the future. He wants to let himself be vulnerable with Jungsu again if this is how it makes him feel—comforted and safe. Laying down with Jungsu pressed to his chest, Hyeongjun’s eyes feel heavy again, but he knows that if he falls asleep once more, his sleep schedule is going to bear the consequences. He finally brings himself to open his eyes and asks,
“Should we play Overcooked again?”
Jungsu sits up, eyes wide, and says, “It’s like you read my mind.”