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••••
Jiung and Jongseob’s love blooms late into the nights. Quietly. Away from prying eyes. In a way that’s not for anyone to witness but themselves and the stars blinking down at them.
••••
It first starts with recording sessions. Demos are easy to make. Once the melody and instrumentals of a song have been finalized, all that remains is recording a vocal guide that the members can follow later.
Jiung opens the door and sighs at the sight of Jongseob in the producer chair. It isn’t a sigh of upset or exasperation. Not at all. Jiung sighs in pure relief. The tensions leave his body when he’s alone with the younger. He doesn’t have to chalk up his personality with Jongseob. He doesn’t have to act like someone he isn’t.
The lights are low and a gentle hum comes from the younger boy. He hasn’t noticed Jiung’s presence yet. Headset on, he simply sings their newest b-side to himself; testing out various melodies with his eyes closed.
I am you.
Jiung’s gaze catches. Lingers.
Then Jongseob opens his eyes and looks over at him. His smile is soft. Just like Jiung’s; not faking anything, not trying to be anything he’s not. The look you give someone you know understands you. He pulls the headphones off his ears and beckons Jiung over.
They get to work.
••••
It isn’t a common occurrence (at first). Jiung would even say it’s rare. But it does sometimes happen.
A couple hours before the sun sets. Jiung folds the last of his laundry, retires to his bed, puts on his specs, and opens a book.
Half an hour in, right when he’s getting immersed, there’s a knock at his door. Jiung welcomes and looks up to see Jongseob there. The other boys rarely enter his room. There isn’t much to distract them in here. Just a queen sized bed, a closet, and a desk; he’s fine with the bare essentials. Jongseob must like that about Jiung’s room. That there’s nothing there to distract them. From their books. Maybe from each other.
He steps inside slowly, a book in his hands too. Jiung scoots over and the boy wordlessly slips into bed beside him.
The silence settles around them, long and drawn out. Jiung returns his focus to his book, interrupted only by the sharp sound of a page being flipped. Jongseob shifts in the bed a little. His knee just barely grazes along Jiung’s thigh. Then it stills there; keeping just the slightest bit of contact.
Jiung doesn’t move away. He hates when the members get touchy. He hates when they reach out and grab for him. Jongseob is clearly aware of that; always noticing that sort of thing. He always keeps his touches light. Just enough to ensure his presence.
They read together in silence. For an hour. Two. Three. The sun has set by now. It’s too dark to make out what’s on the page.
Jongseob draws away and Jiung is now aware of the lack of warmth at his side. He bids the older goodnight. Jiung nods and replies with a, “Sleep well.”
Then he’s out of the room.
He shuts the door behind him and Jiung finds himself staring at it for a moment too long.
••••
Cooking dinner.
Well, it can’t really be called dinner. It’s way too late to be called that.
The clatter of pots and pans. Jiung stirs in his bed. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. Taeyang must be making something. He’s always waking up earlier than he should be. The clicking sound of the stovetop. The spark goes off again and again; failing to ignite.
A curse under the breath. It’s very faint. But Jiung hears it and his eyes open. That’s not Taeyang.
Sleep forgotten, he pushes down his sheets and gets out of bed. His alarm clock reads 2:49. That confirms it.
Jiung leaves his bedroom, silently slinking into the kitchen to find Jongseob at the oven. A packet of ramen sits on the counter. An empty pot beside it. The boy is standing in the darkness, staring at the stovetop, confused.
“Jongseob,” Jiung calls out. He tries being soft but the boy still flinches; anyone would at this hour of the night.
As soon as he realizes who it is, though, Jongseob relaxes. Jiung is lucky his eyes are already adjusted to the dark. Because he can see the sheepish smile on the younger’s face at being caught, “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“I don’t mind,” Jiung offhandedly murmurs, approaching the boy. He doesn’t say anything else. And Jongseob isn’t the type to ask anyway. They’re both independent. They both can get by fine on their own.
But one thing he knows for sure is Jongseob can’t be trusted to make food.
So Jiung wordlessly takes over.
Jongseob moves aside and watches him. Jiung turns the valve for the gas and ignites the stove. Boils the water. Then he grabs a couple other things from the fridge. Kimchi. Green onion. An egg. He can’t help but go all out when it comes to the younger; even with something as mundane as instant noodles.
The younger sits down at the kitchen table and silently observes. Jiung can feel it. Jongseob’s eyes on him. Not looking away for even a moment.
Once the food’s ready, he places in a bowl in front of the younger.
“Thanks, Jiung,” Jongseob says.
Jiung hums, smoothing out some of the boy’s hair. Something stirs inside him.
Then he goes back to bed.
••••
Jongseob says that he’s a night owl. That his circadian rhythm is naturally a little skewed. While that’s partially true, it doesn’t explain why the younger starts to wait in their common room whenever Jiung stays out late.
Tonight is just the same.
Jiung unlocks the door to their apartment. He pushes the door open to be greeted by the sight Jongseob. The boy lays on the couch, phone held less than two inches from his face, scrolling. His head lifts at the sound of the door and his eyes land on Jiung. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t say anything. Even simple eye contact is enough for them.
When Jiung comes out of the shower half an hour later, Jongseob has already disappeared into his room.
The lights are off. He’s asleep.
••••
How often does Jiung get a day off? Once or twice every other month? Usually less.
The members love to go out on those days. Spend hours outside with each other. Enjoy everything the outside world has to offer them together.
To say Jiung is the polar opposite would be an understatement. His dream vacation is to disappear somewhere where not a single human soul could find him. To spend time alone so he can sort out all the thoughts that build in his head.
Spending time alone with Jongseob is the next best thing.
Jiung sits at the living room table, working through his textbook. A day spent on self improvement is just as good as a vacation for him. Jongseob lays on the couch about a metre away, on his stomach, headphones on, tapping away at a laptop. He’s also working on his day off; on a Soundcloud release.
They both have each other in sight. Jiung glances over every so often. He wants to catch Jongseob doing the same but he never quite can. Still, he’s certain the younger has an eye on him too.
They’re always keeping each other in sight.
••••
The sun has set when Jongseob speaks up.
“Read something to me.”
Jiung bookmarks his page and looks over at his bandmate. His heart flutters in his chest at those words. He shifts in his mattress the fully face him and says, “Read what?”
Jongseob stares back at him, deep in consideration. One of the very few places their opinions don’t line up is in their taste in media. Jiung tends towards uplifting content. Energetic or soulful music. Introspective stories. All the good stuff. Perhaps to counter that darkness inside of him. Jongseob is his other half in that sense. Whenever Jiung glances over and catches a glimpse of what Jongseob reads, his stomach twists. The cutthroat romance. Gothic. Violent. Stories of utter devotion. Stories that poke at society and question morality.
Not just books, though. All the media he consumes is so dark and rich. The games. The music.
It makes Jiung wonder what goes on in Jongseob’s mind. And, so coincidentally, Jongseob had decided today would also be the perfect day to speak. Usually by this point, he would leave. The sun is gone and the room is filled with darkness.
“From your book.”
As much as he wants to, Jiung considers politely refusing. It feels too romantic of a deed. But he can’t say no to the younger. He finds it’s too easy to indulge him. So he reaches over and turns on his desk lamp, opens his book to the marked page, and starts reading aloud.
It’s poetry tonight. Jongseob settles into the sheets and stares at Jiung. And the older boy continues from the point he was at.
“What might have been is an abstraction,
Remaining a perpetual possibility,
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been,
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory,
Down the passage we did not take,
Towards the door we never opened,
Into the rose garden.
My words echo,
Thus, in your mind.”
Jiung looks over at him. His soft features barely lit by the lamp. Those beautiful downturned eyes.
“Say it again.”
••••
It becomes a nightly thing. Jongseob slips into Jiung’s room every night. Book in hand, soft pyjamas, bare faced. They take turns reading to each other. Legs just barely pressed together.
The nights Jongseob reads are stomach turning. In the best way possible. He so easily pulls out the dark words from his pages. The only member in the group whose deep timbre can match Jiung’s is Jongseob. His voice fills Jiung’s very soul. The romantic fantasies he reads are so radicalizing, so intense. They resonate so deeply, so viscerally inside the older.
Tonight he’s reading poetry too.
“-I will remember the kisses
Our lips raw with love
And how you gave me
Everything you had
And how I
Offered you what was left of me.
And I will remember your small room
The feel of you
The light in the window
Your records
Your books
Our morning coffee
Our noons our nights
Our bodies spilled together
Sleeping
The tiny flowing currents
Immediate and forever
Your leg my leg
Your arm my arm
Your smile and the warmth
Of you
Who made me laugh again.
Little dark girl with kind eyes
You have no knife.
The knife is mine
And I won't use it
Yet.”
Jongseob stops there. Jiung’s heart is pounding.
Jongseob’s voice echoes in Jiung’s mind as he stares up at his ceiling; long after the boy is gone.
••••
Jiung unlocks the apartment door. He looks forward to it now. Entering his home to lay eyes on the boy who waits up for him.
As he steps inside and removes his shoes, he sees Jongseob on the couch. What intrigues him even more is the sound of his own voice, singing, floating in the common room.
Jiung makes his way inside. On closer inspection, he realizes Jongseob is asleep. He’d fallen asleep with his phone still on, passed out at a weird angle on the couch. His eyes so gently closed. His mouth a little parted. His phone is open on social media. Jiung’s heart starts to pick up in speed. What plays on loop is a compilation of himself; singing.
The older boy doesn’t know how to feel. His chest stirs as he stares at Jongseob.
He tears his eyes away. Then turns away and goes to his room to change.
A bit later, he returns to the living room and Jongseob still hasn’t left. He really is asleep. Jiung can’t bring it in himself to wake the younger. So he makes his way to the boy, shuts off his phone, and carefully puts his arms under him. He lifts Jongseob up, off the couch, and carries him to his room.
Jongseob’s room is a lot nicer than the others’. It’s bigger, so big that he has his own washroom. A couch. A desk. A TV. Music instruments here and there. Posters of bands Jiung isn’t cool enough to know. There’s a lot to distract him here.
Jiung places the younger down on the bed and covers him in blankets. He lingers. It takes more effort than it should to turn and leave.
Jongseob gently grabs his wrist.
The older turns back to see his eyes just barely open. Jongseob drearily gazes at him. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask. He simply pulls Jiung back, closer.
And Jiung indulges him. He lets the younger pull his wrist. Closer and closer until the older is climbing into his bed. Even closer, still, until his arms are around the younger. They lightly cling to each other. Jiung’s arm, Jongseob’s arm. Jiung’s leg, Jongseob’s leg. Jiung can hear the younger’s shallow, shaky breaths. Pressed this close together, he can even feel how Jongseob’s heart races.
He should feel appalled by this much contact but he isn’t. Body spilled together with Jongseob’s, Jiung lets his eyelids fall shut.
••••
It’s a night just like any other. Words blossom between them, whispered to the other in the dim light.
The older is reading tonight. He’d reached for this book unconsciously. The prose is quite a bit more romantic tonight; in an intense way. Bordering on sensual. Jiung’s face feels warm, uttering out line after line to the younger. It isn’t shameful in the slightest, though. It feels more like a confession. Maybe that’s why he’d chosen it.
No. Not maybe.
And as the words reach their most heightened and carnal moment, Jongseob gently takes the book out of Jiung’s hands and kisses him.
It’s so vulnerable. Jongseob shakily gets on top of the older, breathlessly pressing his lips against Jiung’s; unsure but still determined. Jiung is quick to reciprocate. To finally, finally, indulge. Their bodies are flush against each other. Mouths sliding together between soft sighs and quick gasps.
At some point Jiung reaches over and turns off the desk lamp.
Then they’re shrouded in darkness. Not a single thing to distract them from each other. Trembling as they reach to card through hair, press fingertips into skin, and bring their bodies even closer.
They sink further into the bedsheets. Jongseob’s lips part. His tongue teases along the entrance of Jiung’s mouth. The older opens and the younger slips it inside. It’s so slow and intimate; just two boys who need to get to know each other. Even more than they already do.
••••
Outwardly, nothing changes. Jiung is infinitely grateful for that. That they don’t need to show off. They don’t need to tell anyone.
Their love isn’t for others to see. People so easily would judge. Make assumptions. Stupidly close minded, unable to look past their own ideals. The two boys don’t care about such things.
Once the cameras are off, the people go to bed, and the moon rises, they share secrets and make promises. Curled up together, absentmindedly tracing tattoos, softly raking fingers through long hair.
Jiung and Jongseob’s love blooms late into the nights. Quietly. Away from prying eyes. In a way that’s not for anyone to witness but themselves and the stars blinking down at them.
••••