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Wo ai ni.
It’s not the first time Jongin’s said it to him. Not even the first time he’s stood so close when he does.
Still. Kyungsoo can feel the warm puff of breath against his cheek, the low pitch of the words, the sheer magnetism of Kim Jongin.
He clutches at his chest and it’s partly for show, but also because it hits like a punch; the soft words that settle around his shoulders like a blanket. That he’s cherished, wanted, loved. In a world where everybody loves the persona that you’ve crafted, perfected, and covered yourself with like a shroud, it’s easy to forget that there’s a you underneath all of that. Kyungsoo tries his best not to forget, but now that they’re back on stage, back making music, EXO music, it’s easy to get lost.
Jongin’s smirking at him, hands on his knees, and Kyungsoo points at him, then at himself, relishing the thrill of the crowd as they scream. Still, his treacherous heart demands to know it’s real, that Jongin means it. It's always been a subtle dance between them. Soft touches, heated looks, the little things they do that cross a line Kyungsoo doesn’t think has ever been there. Kyungsoo has always wished it was real, that he could keep Jongin for himself.
It’s for the doll, Jongin says.
It shouldn’t hurt.
It shouldn’t.
Jongin is sad, his grief a tangible thing that Kyungsoo wants to soothe and burn away.
“Hey,” he says, sliding onto the bench. Jongin makes space for him, as he always does, and away from the cameras, from prying eyes, he curls into Kyungsoo’s side, chin against his chest. “You should rest.”
Jongin hums, closing his eyes.
“Did you call your mother?”
“Yes,” Jongin mumbles. He plays with the edge of Kyungsoo’s jacket, then moves to the zipper, running it up and down the teeth gently. Kyungsoo wants to tell him to stop, knows it’ll damage the zipper eventually, but he can’t force himself to say anything about it. “I’m happy to be here.”
“I know,” Kyungsoo assures him, because he does. “It can still hurt.”
A shaky breath against his neck. “Sorry.”
Kyungsoo rests a hand on the back of Jongin’s head, brushes a kiss against the crown. “You have nothing to apologise for.”
It takes longer for Jongin to relax than Kyungsoo would like, but eventually he does, dozing lightly against Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Junmyeon pokes his head around the door, face softening when he sees Jongin–and Kyungsoo–and backs out of the room. Kyungsoo knows he’ll keep others away, at least for a while.
Jongin sighs, more of his weight pressing against Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo presses another kiss to Jongin’s head.
Wo Ai Ni.
It takes a few days for Jongin to shed the melancholy.
Kyungsoo’s managed to sneak into Jongin’s place, ignoring the texts from Chanyeol and Yixing, both asking whether he wore disguises and getting increasingly more ridiculous the longer it goes on. “We have stupid friends.”
Jongin laughs and it’s a good sound. Kyungsoo’s missed the genuine raw edge to it. Jongin stares at him. “What?”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Kyungsoo says. He touches Jongin’s cheek, pokes at the edge of Jongin’s smile with his thumb. “You’re prettier like this.”
A flush to Jongin’s cheeks and he drops his eyes. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and then closes it again.
Kyungsoo’s thumb slips into Jongin’s mouth. “Lost for words?”
Jongin narrows his eyes, and Kyungsoo expects the nip to his thumb half a second before it comes. He grins when Kyungsoo pulls his thumb away.
“Definitely back to normal.”
Both of their phones buzz against the sofa.
Kyungja could rock a moustache.
It’s Sehun, obviously, and Jongin cackles.
“I would not,” Kyungsoo mutters, but doesn’t protest when Jongin runs a finger over his top lip.
“Hmm,” Jongin considers. “He’s definitely wrong.”
This close, Kyungsoo can see the brown of Jongin’s eyes.
Wo Ai Ni. The words almost tumble out of his mouth, but he bites down on his tongue.
They’re on the plane to Bankgok.
Kyungsoo is content to relax against the arm, knowing Jongin will relax in the same way when he’s stopped rearranging his bag for the fifth time. Chanyeol and Suho are taking a selfie, and Kyungsoo really hopes airplane selfies won’t become a trend, and Sehun is already asleep. The absence always feels more on the plane. No Yixing talking rapid fire Mandarin. No Baekhyun whining. No Minseok and Jongdae whispering in low tones.
Still.
There’s Sehun and Chanyeol. Suho. Jongin.
It’s enough, Kyungsoo thinks, to be happy.
“You’re thinking loudly,” Jongin says.
If there’s one thing Kyungsoo can always be sure of, it’s that Jongin will always be there. A pillar, the centre, the tether keeping them tied to the legacy they’ve carved. He’s dug his heels in and he won’t be budged. It’s one of the things Kyungsoo loves about him; that he's dedicated and so attentive to their brand, to who EXO are as a group, and refuses to let them die.
“I’m happy,” Kyungsoo says honestly. “To be here. With you.”
Jongin huffs an embarrassed laugh. “What brought this on?”
Kyungsoo shrugs. He doesn’t know how to put it into words.
Not that he has to; Jongin’s always known him, always understood him.
“I’m always happy to be with you, hyung,” Jongin says softly.
The moment stretches, and Kyungsoo almost breaks the silence, almost says I love you.
“Jongin-ah!” Chanyeol leans around his seat, thrusting his phone into Jongin’s face. “Look at this.”
Kyungsoo leans back against his seat, disappointed and relieved in equal measure, and irritated at Chanyeol in ways that make him feel guilty.
The hotel room feels too small.
Kyungsoo watches Jongin type on his phone, sliding through pictures of their meal last night, and he can’t stop the words from tumbling out;
“What you said, in Taipei–”
Jongin looks up at him, frowning. “When?”
“On stage,” Kyungsoo says. He feels disconnected, as though it’s not him speaking. But he is. Because he needs to know, needs Jongin to do something. “With the doll.”
“Oh.” Jongin blinks at him slowly. “What about it?”
“Why didn’t you,” Kyungsoo says, trailing off.
Why didn’t you say it to me?
Why haven’t you said it again?
Say it again.
“Okay,” Jongin says, pushing himself up from the bed, as though he’s heard the words Kyungsoo can’t say. He hovers awkwardly in front of Kyungsoo and then smirks. He leans in, the way he did on stage, breath warm against Kyungsoo’s cheek, voice pitched lower than before. “Wo ai ni.”
The words hit, just as they did the first time. Kyungsoo stares at Jongin’s face, wishing his fast beating heart to calm. Jongin seems content to wait, smug and irritating as he stares back. But oh, does Kyungsoo love him.
“Say it again,” Kyungsoo demands.
Jongin’s smirk gives way to a beaming smile. Kyungsoo feels his heart skip a beat; Jongin is just so beautiful and sometimes it hurts. “Wo ai ni.”
“It’s for me this time,” Kyungsoo says, and it’s not a question.
“It was always for you,” Jongin promises.
Kyungsoo fists a hand in the front of Jongin’s shirt and drags him down for a kiss. It’s sloppy, Jongin’s not expecting it, but he recovers quickly, resting a hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and tilts his head. There, perfect.. It drags on, and it's better than anything Kyungsoo could have imagined. The press of Jongin against him, the slide of their lips, the soft noises Jongin can't control.
“Wo ai ni,” Kyungsoo whispers into Jongin’s mouth.
Jongin pulls back, smiling widely. “I know.”
“You never said anything, did anything.”
“Why would I?” Jongin says slowly, hand against Kyungsoo’s chest. He flexes his fingers. “I knew we’d get there when we were ready.”
I love you, Kyungsoo thinks. Then, because he can, says, “I love you.”
Jongin’s smile is like the sun; energizing, warm, beautiful.