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Dongmin wonders if his life is finally coming to an end.
He thinks he’s seeing a glimpse of an angel right in front of him at this very second, complete with an angelic smile and a halo hovering above the celestial being’s head. Growing up, his elders always told Dongmin he’d feel overwhelming peace if he ever met a real angel, but his heart is stuttering so much in his chest right now Dongmin feels like it might burst out completely, only to offer itself up to heaven.
Dongmin half expects this angel to say something like ‘be not afraid’, but he doesn’t believe the request even makes any sense. How can he even think to be afraid when the angel’s so, so beautiful?
“Don’t be scared, Dongminie,” and there it is, whispered in that smooth, mellow voice Dongmin’s grown helplessly fond of.
Ah, it’s just Donghyun.
The heat between them seeps deep into his skin, allowing him to melt completely into Donghyun’s embrace. They’re squeezed into the back of Dongmin’s parents’ old car, parked somewhere deep in a dark alley between rundown buildings. Dongmin’s always thought this shouldn’t even be necessary, but hearing the sound of Donghyun’s heartbeat thumping in his ear, feeling delicate fingers soothingly comb through the hair on his nape like he’s something precious; perhaps he’ll always be willing to go through such extra lengths just to let everything go in brief moments like these.
“Sorry,” Dongmin tries to say first, and he can hardly believe the way his voice breaks at that one single word. He takes a deep breath through his nose and tries again. “I just don’t know how much longer I can pretend I don’t care about you as much as I do.”
He can’t bring himself to remember the last time he cried this much. Donghyun’s uniform is damp where he’d left a patch of his tears, painfully obvious and ugly where it stains compared to the rest of its pristine white condition. It makes Dongmin feel guilty when he thinks of how Donghyun will have to put it straight into the wash as soon as he gets home later. He swallows down a lump in his throat the same time Donghyun lightheartedly hums.
“You care about me that much?” Donghyun teases, his smile completely audible in the way he says it. Dongmin turns his head from where he was leaning on Donghyun’s chest to look up and give him a scowl, as if to say of course I do, but he must look ridiculous with his red-rimmed eyes, because the boy in front of him can’t help but let out a string of laughter. The sound doesn’t match his face at all. It’s squeaky and bubbly and comes out in hiccups, but Dongmin finds himself to be awfully endeared by it all the same.
To say I care about you is synonymous to saying I love you. Dongmin recognises the weight of the original three words, and they’re so heavy he can’t bear to carry them in his own two arms. But replacing the words feels much easier, because he knows Donghyun understands what he means to say even without him saying it. I care for you; I love you. Simple, yet terrifying to leave it out in the open in case somebody comes and rips it to shreds.
“Shut up. You’re asking stupid questions, and don’t laugh at me.” Dongmin can feel the tips of his ears warm as he rests his head back on Donghyun. He doesn’t comply immediately, letting the last dregs of his giggles drag on, but his hand moves to stroke Dongmin’s hair the way one would do when they’re comforting a sad cat. It’s almost alarming how effective Donghyun’s touch is on him when Dongmin’s not feeling his best.
“Okay, nyangie,” he eventually relents without a fight. Dongmin is grateful for the silence Donghyun grants, letting their surroundings speak for them. He wonders how Donghyun makes it seem so easy when he’s around Dongmin, how a term of such endearment flows from his tongue so naturally as if it was his given name.
The silence stretches for too long, then Dongmin is thinking too loud again. He thinks about the seemingly narrow possibility of a future with Donghyun, and how he wishes the circumstances of the world were different. It seems unlikely that they can continue the rest of their lives while carrying such a huge secret. People can be so cruel to others who are like the two of them, and Dongmin’s nothing short of terrified.
“Aren’t you scared?” Dongmin asks, barely a whisper, and he’s surprised to hear the words suddenly coming out of his mouth. He didn’t mean to let them escape, but it’s too late to take them back now. The little voice in Dongmin’s head scolds him for saying anything at all, for ruining any semblance of their peace.
“Of anyone finding out?” Donghyun questions him back, voice steady compared to Dongmin’s own. He doesn’t sound upset. That’s good. Dongmin wants to make a noise of confirmation, but it gets stuck in his throat halfway. He nods instead when he remembers Donghyun can still see him in the amber street light sneaking in through the window.
Donghyun hums softly like he’s thinking of how to word his response. Dongmin’s not sure what kind of answer would be better; he doesn’t want to drag Donghyun into his own pit of uncertainty, but he wishes for his carefree nature to remain even in the face of such a big question. Dongmin waits patiently for his next words. Whatever answer Donghyun’s willing to give him, Dongmin tells himself he will accept it.
“Honestly,” he starts, fingers slowing down in Dongmin’s hair as he continues, “it’s scary when I think about everyone else that has ever mattered in my life. Sometimes I wish it didn’t have to be like this, you know?” Donghyun’s still asking the wrong questions now, because oh how Dongmin knows. The words dig deep into his chest, because he can’t even count the amount of times he’s thought about it. He’s thinking about it now, the way his parents would look at him if they ever found out the lingering scents on their car seats were from a boy Dongmin couldn’t help but hold too close.
“But then I remember those rare times when I would wake up before you did,” Donghyun continues, and Dongmin knows he’s referring back to when they were kids because they aren’t allowed to have sleepovers anymore, “and I’d be cold because you’d steal all the blankets in the middle of the night until I didn’t have anything left to cover myself, but I wasn’t even mad because at least you were keeping yourself warm.” Dongmin chuckles wetly at the confession. As far as he remembers, Donghyun used to pick a fight with him about it every time. He doesn’t point it out and settles on keeping the memory to himself.
“You’re circling around the question,” Dongmin says instead, not to pressure, but more like he’s not picking up what Donghyun’s putting down in front of him. He’s always had a penchant for speaking in silly riddles. It doesn’t upset Dongmin, but it gets confusing sometimes, just like the rest of him. Just then, he feels the comforting hand on his head leave to move down to his jaw, and Dongmin’s breath hitches when Donghyun leads him to look up.
For a second, Dongmin thinks he’s staring at an angel again, but this angel seems to have taken the fall for a boy who used to only dream of entering heaven.
“I mean to say I’ve grown to care about you more than I do them,” Donghyun’s holding his tear-stained face in both hands as he says it, like he wants to get his point across in a way that leaves no room for questioning. And Dongmin’s been trying really, really hard to keep himself together, but it’s as if Donghyun’s made it his mission to make it nearly impossible. “Do you get it?”
I’ve grown to care about you more than I do them; I’ve grown to love you more than I do them.
Does Dongmin get it?
A dam breaks somewhere in Dongmin’s heart and floods it with pools upon pools of his previously restrained feelings for Donghyun. There’s a bridge leading to a dark forest, deep and unrelenting in its shadows; an illusion of a safer option. He treads along the planks carefully at first, cautious so he doesn’t slip, but the ropes suddenly snap and Dongmin falls straight into the chaos under him. The fall scares him nearly half to death—Dongmin’s never been a fan of thrill rides—but the landing greets him in kinder ways than he ever anticipated. It feels too little like pain and too much like Donghyun.
“Can I kiss you?” Dongmin asks, heavy with different feelings all at once but no more of the lingering guilt. Donghyun only grins like he knew Dongmin would ask him. It’s no surprise, Dongmin’s always seeking proximity for comfort when he starts to worry too much about the little things. Donghyun always gives it to him without any complaints. But this time, it’s purely out of devotion rather than for reassurance.
He gently wipes Dongmin’s cheeks dry with the fabric of his sleeve like he’s afraid the boy will crumble like dry sandcastles. Dongmin doesn’t know how to tell him he doesn’t need to be gentle when half his broken pieces are already in Donghyun’s hands. Once he’s made sure there are no more tears left, he caresses over the high of Dongmin’s cheekbones with his knuckles. “Now you can,” Donghyun tells him, affectionate and easy.
With that permission, Dongmin shifts to make it easier for the both of them, one of his hands settling on gripping the armrest on the door while the other holds his weight above Donghyun. They’ve done this kind of thing a handful of times before; in Donghyun’s bedroom with the door locked, in the cramped and cracking PE equipment shed, in an empty classroom during after school hours. A familiar buzz of electricity shoots through Dongmin’s veins every time it’s about to happen. It doesn’t help that Donghyun always looks so breathtakingly gorgeous in front of him, quietly waiting for whenever Dongmin’s ready.
He thinks it’s important he voices it out before it clogs up his throat. “You’re perfect,” Dongmin softly breathes out, more to himself than to Donghyun. Too good for me, he doesn’t say, because it’s not as significant as letting Donghyun know he’s flawless in Dongmin’s eyes.
He doesn’t miss the way Donghyun frowns slightly at the declaration. It isn’t the first time he’s said it, and Dongmin’s sure it won’t be the last. Donghyun has told him before that he thinks of himself as far from perfect, because if he were, he wouldn’t be ashamed of who he’s come to be. Dongmin responded by tenderly pressing kisses into his wrist as he echoed his affections, in hopes of Donghyun eventually believing them to be true. He’ll repeat it again and again until the time comes when Donghyun accepts his efforts, even if it takes him forever.
Dongmin erases the downturn of Donghyun’s mouth by leaning in and showering him with feather-light kisses everywhere. Donghyun giggles when his lips brush against his skin, right above the mole that adorns his face in the rightest way. Dongmin kisses the corner of his mouth, purposely missing his mark just so he can see Donghyun pout, only for it to be wiped away the moment their lips properly meet. Dongmin doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this; the closeness and intimacy of it all. It feels much, much easier than they say it should be.
There are sirens going off in his head behind his shut eyelids, flashing red and blaring so loud the soundwaves should be able to shatter tempered glass. It’s a warning sign written in bold text and painted in even bolder colours, but Dongmin chooses to shut them out completely for the sake of interlocking one of his hands with Donghyun’s and kissing him until his lips can’t help but go numb. ‘Reckless’ and ‘dumb’ are adjectives that don’t describe Dongmin at all. This has been proven to be wrong time and time again every time he’s with Donghyun.
Oxygen isn’t infinite, much to their disappointment. Reluctantly, Dongmin pulls away from him, just to find that Donghyun’s tie and top buttons have come loose somewhere along the way. His prominent collarbones are peeking through the opening like a taunt, and his lips glisten even under the lack of light while long hair sprawls out in every direction. It paints a picture so sinful Dongmin can’t help but be tempted to stare.
“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” Donghyun eventually says, bashfulness tinging the playful tone of his voice. Dongmin freezes in place when he realises he’s been caught, but Donghyun just breathes out a charming laugh, and it helps the tension flow out of his shoulders. “Like what you see?”
Dongmin scoffs in disbelief at his atypical boldness, but he digresses. He unlaces the tangle of their fingers, only to reach for the collar of Donghyun’s shirt. Dongmin hears a stutter in Donghyun’s breathing despite his earlier attitude as he tentatively pulls the clothing aside. He touches the warm skin there, right above the clavicle, and it feels like a burn Dongmin didn’t know he’s craved for his whole life.
“I wanna kiss you here, too,” he carefully says, seeking Donghyun’s approval. Dongmin lifts his gaze back up to meet a flustered but intrigued look in his eyes. Then, just as cautious, “can I?”
He hears Donghyun swallow, and Dongmin almost backtracks on himself in case he’s accidentally crossed a line this time. The last thing he wants is to be the cause of Donghyun's discomfort. He opens his mouth to say it’s fine, in case Donghyun feels an obligation to say yes, but Dongmin’s words are promptly interrupted by a slow nod of his head.
“Yeah,” Donghyun says like a second affirmation, so soft Dongmin wouldn’t be able to hear it if they weren’t so close, “you can.”
His chest bursts with relief at the thought of Donghyun trusting him enough to grant him his wish. Adoration courses through every nerve and vein in Dongmin’s body as he presses a reverent kiss to the column of Donghyun’s neck to demonstrate his gratitude. Dongmin hears a small noise escape from his throat, and he thinks of how nice it would be if preserving all of Donghyun’s sounds all for himself to keep and listen to was possible. Dongmin feels a little wrong for wanting so much of this boy when he’s already right in front of him, but his greediness for Donghyun’s everything outweighs the guilt.
He makes sure Donghyun feels every press of his lips as he trails an invisible path down to his collarbones. A hand reaches up to Dongmin’s hair to grasp at it, keeping them both tethered to the reality of it all. Donghyun’s firm grip reminds Dongmin of where they are, what all of this means now, and what all of this will mean when they inevitably have to part. He tries to ignore that last thought by lightly grazing Donghyun’s skin with the bluntness of his teeth, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make a visible mark as proof of tonight.
A sharp whine leaves Donghyun’s mouth when he feels the slight pain, a higher pitch than the low register of his voice Dongmin’s accustomed to hearing. Even then, his lips don’t leave Donghyun’s skin, instead he parts them in favour of licking over the same spot like he’s sealing it in. Dongmin’s entertaining the idea of the mark staying there forever much, much more than he’d like to admit.
When he pulls off, the dark bruise left on Donghyun’s skin has Dongmin’s head reeling with a sense of satisfaction. Glassy eyes peer up at him in such a way that an entire galaxy can be seen in them. Donghyun’s lower lip is a flushed red from the way he’d been worrying them between his teeth, and all Dongmin wants to do is claim those lips with his own until their mouths meld into the same shape.
Possessiveness isn’t a good look on him, but he might have just found a good enough reason to want Donghyun all to himself as much as he does; he can’t help but think this picture perfect version of Donghyun can only exist when he’s being seen through Dongmin’s very own eyes.
“Is it too much?” He murmurs the question like it’s an afterthought, but in truth, paranoia is slowly creeping in through the cracks of Dongmin’s mind in case he’s gone too far this time by making a mark. Donghyun’s fingers are still in his hair, just not holding on as tightly as he was before. With minimal effort, he slowly unfurls his fingers to splay them over the back of Dongmin’s neck, then pulls him into a slow but deep kiss that quells all of his worries and doubts.
Whenever one of them pulls away, the other chases back like they simply can’t get enough. Soft sighs resound from every corner, and Dongmin completely melts into the moment as his hands start to fiddle with more of the buttons on Donghyun’s shirt. He’s already at the halfway mark, fully intent on kissing Donghyun’s shoulder next as he pulls the piece of linen further aside, but a loud ringtone rudely interrupts them, causing Dongmin’s bones to jump in his body.
It’s Donghyun’s mother, most likely wondering about her son’s whereabouts like the protective woman she is. Donghyun has no choice but to answer the phone, so he shoots Dongmin an apologetic smile before dutifully picking up the call. The conversation is tuned out of Dongmin’s ears, replaced by the feeling of Donghyun’s pulse on his lips as he absentmindedly mouths over the pulse point on his neck just to keep feeling him. He feels soothing pats and strokes over his back, and the irony of the situation hits him at that very moment.
Donghyun’s mother hangs up after a minute or two, and suddenly all his attention is back to Dongmin again. He tosses the phone back into his bag left in the footwell, then plasters a chaste kiss over Dongmin’s temple. It’s so pure in intention that Dongmin wants to keep him in a sacred box.
“I hate to cut our time short, but it’s getting late,” Donghyun regretfully says, and Dongmin is disappointed to find that he’s right. Even though the only things he can see through the windows are walls with peeling paint and dry dirt, their surroundings have obviously grown much darker.
Dongmin lets out a quiet sigh through his mouth, very visibly dispirited when he says, “guess I’ll have to get you home now.” That earns him a quiet laugh from Donghyun, and it helps improve his mood by a tiny margin.
He presses a final kiss to the line of Donghyun’s jaw in a similar fashion to the one he received just now, before begrudgingly getting up and off of Donghyun to button up his shirt and fix up his tie. Dongmin at least has the courtesy to help Donghyun tidy himself up, until it gets to a point where it can be counted as fussing. He tucks a strand of hair behind Donghyun’s ear and dusts off whatever dirt is caught on his beloved’s blazer one last time before clambering over the console back to the driver’s seat (with much effort, considering he’s a healthy eighteen-year-old boy standing at almost 180 centimetres tall).
The ride back to Donghyun’s house wouldn’t count as anything special to an outsider, but to Dongmin, it is. Jazz music spills softly from the radio speakers while Donghyun hums along, and the cadence of his voice settles in between every crevice of Dongmin's body. He's completely tuned into the sound, and before Dongmin even realises, they're already right in front of the Kims' gates. What he does realise is that it really is just a small town, after all.
Donghyun's mother is already waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe with an unreadable expression. This is usually the part where Donghyun exits through the back door with a simple farewell like they don’t mean anything more than close friends. Dongmin expects the same tonight, even though it stings his chest in all the wrong ways.
Just as he turns to say goodbye, he’s surprised to see Donghyun leaning between the front seats and hovering slightly over the console. Before Dongmin can say anything, he’s met with a quick peck to his cheek, light and gentle. It happens so fast he can’t even think to react properly when Donghyun pulls away other than a slight part of his lips. Dongmin sees pink-tinted cheeks and a slightly embarrassed expression staring straight back at him.
Donghyun leans closer to his ear, cupping his mouth like he’s about to share a personal secret. “Goodnight, Dongmin,” he says instead, whispered low, yet his voice cuts through every other sound that attempts to enter Dongmin's ears. His figure leaves the car with Dongmin in it, and just like that, Donghyun’s no longer his to hold close. He's already past the front gates, but he doesn't forget to wave a hand goodbye before disappearing into the house along with his mother, who doesn't seem to have seen anything she wasn't supposed to.
Dongmin freezes in place for a short while after that, before he finally decides to blink. He leans back into his seat, then forward again to press his forehead against the steering wheel in an effort to calm his rapid heartbeat. A breath escapes from his mouth; a breath Dongmin didn’t even realise he was holding, while that moment replays in his head over and over again like an old, broken record.
Donghyun might just become the reason his heart stops one of these days, but it would be completely okay. Dongmin had offered it up to him a long time ago, anyway.