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Jay holds Jaeyun's hands before Jaeyun can wipe the sweat on his jeans. It's a product of being with Jay—of all the physical symptoms Jaeyun gets around him it's sweaty hands.
It's also a product of what Jaeyun has done. He isn't known as the Jay tamer for nothing. Jay's gotten to the point he reaches for Jaeyun's hands nine times out of ten when they're in the same place, like now, a couch in a room alone at Sunoo's flat, a party to welcome the cozy part of autumn before it turns dreary.
Everyone else is actually doing the autumn welcoming in the rest of the place—excited and not too loud but definitely not as quiet as Jay and Jaeyun are being in here.
The loudest is the fireplace, though it feels more like the loudest is the gulp in Jaeyun's throat as he swallows and lets Jay just lean on him. It's what he's always done. All his friends—they lean on him. Jay is no different.
And it's kind of stupid, because Jay isn't a fucking cardigan, but if he were, Jaeyun wishes he'd be the kind that feels more like you're being held rather than clung to.
He's the needy one, for once (for all). But Jay is needy too and obviously he'd drop everything if Jaeyun told him he needed him—is it obvious? Jaeyun hopes it's obvious. Jay's done it for all their other friends. He even does it for random students on campus, those who struggle even a bit. Can't Jay see Jaeyun's struggle?
Jay's fluffy hair is soft and a typical texture of his hair type. Jaeyun would pet his head like he always does if even one of his hands weren't tied up in Jay's own. He just rests his cheek on his head and feels Jay relax further against his chest, that home of a neck and collarbones and shoulder.
Autumn chill is earlier this year. September seventh, Jaeyun pulled on his thicker jeans and three layers of shirts before he left this morning. He's taken off one and mostly unbuttoned another.
Jongseong must have had the same idea as him, since their outfits are practically identical. It's probably not an uncommon one but it's one they share. Jaeyun can feel the layers on Jay's back against his front. Sometimes Jay scolds Jaeyun for not wearing enough clothing, or gloves or mittens, but right now Jay's the cold one, even with the fire and Jaeyun behind him and the three layers of shirts he has on.
Jaeyun holds him tighter.
He wishes he could be the one relaxed all over Jay, his own body in that home of a neck and collarbones and shoulder and chest, so deep in his space he becomes it. Could tuck his cheek against Jay's jaw and turn and brush his nose along the faintly stubbly skin there and breathe in his scent.
Jaeyun doesn't know how he kept it quiet so long. He doesn't mean to keep it quiet longer. "Do you like me?"
He thought Jongseong was falling asleep, but he answers immediately, like he was waiting for Jaeyun to speak first. "Absolutely I like you. Why ask? It's not like you."
Maybe Jaeyun has hid too much of himself. Maybe his mom was right. Jongseong knows him. But if he thinks Jaeyun asking isn't like him—does he really?
Jaeyun doesn't feel any less than anyone else feels; something in him just turns it into constant, constant thoughts. Jongseong's the overthinker of their pair but doesn't everyone have a time the thoughts race too fast to fall asleep?
Jaeyun just wishes Jongseong would hold onto him a little tighter sometimes.
Jaeyun's loud and Jay's louder. Jay holds and Jaeyun holds tighter. Jay's moods change like the tides and it'd be too much to call him Jaeyun's moon or his sea but Jaeyun could study and study and he'd never be the complete naturalist in the realm of Park Jongseong. There's always something he doesn't know.
That's what keeps him. Isn't that what keeps a naturalist, too? What throws the explorer toward unknown? Jongseong's familiar and he's new and Jaeyun will never leave. It's just nature.
"They said it wasn't a joke."
"Who said?"
"Friends." Classmates. Jaeyun doesn't have many friends and Jongseong knows this. Jongseong doesn't have many friends, either. Jaeyun hopes he counts as a real one—he even offered himself as a real one, long ago. Every day since, though, he does it without the words.
"They were right. It wasn't a joke."
"You'd never say something like that as a joke?"
"I've made a lot of mistakes. Don't follow my footsteps, Jaeyun."
Jaeyun's just glad this time he's not one of Jongseong's mistakes.
He can, in fact, by research and experimentation and discovery, tuck himself against Jongseong and nudge his jaw with his cheek and be cradled into his neck by Jongseong's loving arms with hands held just as tight as earlier when Jongseong was the one in his lap.
"I thought it was a joke and it's funny 'cause you had me the whole time and didn't know it."
"It's sad to me. But we know the same thing now. I'm sorry we didn't for so long." His hand—slow, careful, and warm—strokes up and down, up into Jaeyun's hair and down to his face again.
"I don't know how I kept it quiet for so long."
"You don't have to keep it quiet. I love you even when you're loud."
"Jay."
"Hm?"
"That's high praise."
After saying it, Jaeyun wants to laugh, because it's supposed to be a joke.