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Seonghyeon is utterly and absolutely, to put it simply, fucked.
Fucked as in screwed over, done for and doomed.
And he blames this entirely on the innocent teen that was currently bobbing his head to a Hether song that was playing in the background while sipping on his strawberry latte.
Seonghyeon can’t even be mad at him when he looks this unbelievably cute.
So yeah, in thesis, Seonghyeon is fucked.
-
It started as something barely noticeable, something one wouldn’t even notice unless you were paying deliberate attention to it. And unfortunately, Seonghyeon finds it very hard to even take his eyes off of Keonho for a second.
The younger one just had this magnetic pull—a bright lovable smile that shone so much it rivaled the Sun’s rays and mannerisms just so child-like it made anyone coo.
But Seonghyeon thought it would end at that. Just an absurd amount of affection he harboured for the younger one despite their barely there age difference of a month.
He didn’t know when those small thoughts of admiration transformed into his whole head being filled with just Keonho, Keonho this, Keonho that—everything Keonho. He doesn’t remember when it started and he wasn’t aware of the progression of his obsession that manifested in the shape of a certain someone, but he sure as hell was aware of how deep these thoughts, feelings and emotions Keonho evoked in him ran.
And honestly, as brain-eating and absolutely horrific as it sounds for a public figure fresh into the hectic life of an idol constantly under scrutiny to have all five senses filled with his band mate, he genuinely wished it had stayed at just that.
Instead, now he’s hyper-aware of how pink the boy was.
Exhibit A.
It was after their 3-hour long dance rehearsal in preparation for their comeback that this realisation first dawned on Seonghyeon.
At first, everything was normal.
Seonghyeon leaning against the large expanse of the mirror, the glass feeling starkingly cold against his heated skin.
Keonho decides he’s had enough goofing around with Martin and crashes right next to Seonghyeon—normal. Keonho snatches the water bottle in Seonghyeon’s hands and greedily drinks up the liquid—normal. He then caps it back and tosses it to the side as he leans his head against the older boy’s shoulder—normal.
It stopped feeling normal when Seonghyeon breathed a sigh of feigned annoyance, “Keonho get off me, we’re both sweaty.” But the words feel like a lie on his tongue as he instinctively shifts to accommodate the warm body next to his, shuffling just the slightest bit to the left to let Keonho rest his head more comfortably.
The complaint feels even more feeble as he visibly relaxes into their new position despite his hatred for any skin ship when both parties were equally sweaty and tired.
But of course, this rule never applied to Keonho, never to Keonho.
And in return to the teasing comment, Keonho juts out his bottom lip to form his signature pout and when he opens his mouth to retort, Seonghyeon surprisingly doesn’t register a single word.
His eyes land on the pinkness of Keonho’s lips; the redness of his tongue as he swipes it over his bottom lip whenever it feels dry, and he just couldn’t take his eyes off of them.
He feels like he’s lost all his senses when the only thing he could register was the plushy pink lips in front of him. He could see them moving, could feel the vibrations against his chest as Keonho spoke, but he couldn’t hear a single thing.
He doesn’t stop there, traitorous eyes shifting upwards to take in the flushed skin and how Keonho’s cheeks took in the heat to the next level—a permanent blush taking place high on his cheekbone.
Absent-mindedly, he lets his eyes drift from Keonho’s face to his neck, his exposed neckline and the silver chain dangling enticingly on his neck.
He’s further met with the soul-crushing information that Keonho was, indeed, pink everywhere.
The pink flush travelled from his cheeks down the curve of his neck and dipped dangerously into the exposed area of his chest.
Seonghyeon wishes he could kiss all over these pink places and maybe even more, and that thought surprises him more than it should.
“-Hyeon did you hear me?” Keonho shifts from his spot to sit upright and Seonghyeon immediately misses the warmth Keonho had given him just seconds before.
“Hm? Sorry I was out of it. Say that again?” And Seonghyeon realises belatedly that he should’ve just lied because that stupidly cute pout appears on Keonho’s lips and Seonghyeon’s out here fighting demons to control this soul-eating urge to kiss those pretty pink lips of his.
“I said, we should go shopping soon. I’m running out of lip balm,” He complains and Seonghyeon can’t help the smile that was creeping up his face. Keonho always had this effect on him. Every little thing he did left Seonghyeon oh so devastatingly endeared.
Once he finished talking, he smacks his lips twice before he frowns, proceeding to dig into his pants pockets to fish out a Laneige lip balm.
Seonghyeon watches, entranced, as the younger twists open the cap and widens his mouth just the slightest bit and the wet, red cavern starts to hypnotise him.
Keonho squeezes out the red gloss and applies it elegantly to his lips, movements precise and practiced as the tint blends seamlessly with the natural pinkness of his luscious, full lips.
Seonghyeon wonders if Keonho’s lips would taste like the strawberry scented lip balm he always puts on. Or maybe it’d taste like the strawberry gum he’d always chew on. Or maybe it’d taste like the strawberry latte he loves so much.
Fuck, Seonghyeon curses, this is not going well.
“EOM SEONGHYEON,” Keonho’s shout seems to startle Seonghyeon out of his thoughts and he shoots the younger a sheepish smile. Keonho sends a stink eye his way but continues on, “Should I still stick to this one or try like a…I don’t know…the blue or purple one?”
As he spoke, he turned his head to face the mirror, staring at himself as he puckers his lips to see if the blue or purple would suit him. “Would it even make a difference? It’s just a gloss anyways, there’s barely any colour…” he mumbles but Seonghyeon wasn’t listening to a thing he said.
Currently residing in his head was the slight shadow Keonho’s long, luscious eyelashes were casting on the pink of his cheeks and Seonghyeon swears he just gained ten new song ideas from how beautifully the pink matched with the subtle greyish cast alone.
“Hm, I like how pink looks on you more, though.” Seonghyeon supplies offhandedly, still transfixed by Keonho’s pinkness. He was staring unabashedly now—the sweat beading at his perfect hairline, his thick eyebrows that accentuated his features magnificently, the gentle slope of his nose, the pinkness of his cheeks that still had yet to fade, his long, pretty eyelashes down to his kissable pink cupids bow. Keonho really was carved out by Aphrodite herself, born on Valentine’s Day, no wonder he was so lovable and so, so pink.
And don’t even get him started on the beauty marks decorating the younger’s face. Seonghyeon swears that even with his eyes closed, he could map out exactly where each dot was.
When he lifts his gaze back onto Keonho’s face, their eyes meet in the mirror and for a split second, time seemed to slow down as they continued the heated stare down.
Their moment was cut short as Juhoon headed over to them, teasingly nudging off Keonho’s beanie which made the younger grin and speed off to chase him while yelling a joyful “Oh you’re so on”.
Seonghyeon thinks his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn that Keonho’s ears flushed the same delectable shade of pink as the rest of him.
But he throws that thought out the window since he was now Keonho-less and had nothing to wallow in except his new and profound obsession with Keonho’s pinkness.
That was the exact moment Seonghyeon knew that he was fucked.
Exhibit B.
It was after a long day of schedules when they finally returned to their dorm.
Seonghyeon collapsed onto the couch, feeling absolutely exhausted as the icky feeling of sweat-soaked layers stuck to his skin.
He knew he should shower, but the thought of getting off the leather furniture and leaving his sweat branding was something he’d rather die than do, so he stayed there and yelled for Keonho to head to the showers first.
He hears a muffled noise of agreement and drops his head back onto the sofa, feeling the ache in his neck and back already forming.
He sighs into the leather and reluctantly peels himself off from the couch, grimacing at the sweat stains before he aggressively uses his hands to wipe them away.
He decides to just chill in his room while waiting for Keonho and sits precariously on the edge of his bed, pulling his hoodie over his head, leaving him in only his grey fitted tank.
From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror Martin begged to have in their room cause, “I need more mirrors to look at my beauty. Easy access too.” his words, not Seonghyeon’s.
And not to toot his own horn but he thinks he looks pretty damn good—biceps growing thicker with each passing day from his relentless gym schedule, shoulders filling out more and his torso getting fitter.
So yeah, he thinks he looks pretty good and he feels ten times better.
As he flexes his triceps to check out the gains, he hears the familiar patter of feet against cold tiles that a certain pink boy always abided by—two light steps that land on his toes followed by another set that lands fully on his feet.
It wasn’t even as if Seonghyeon deliberately tried to focus on how Keonho walked, it was just a constant in his life that he couldn’t help but remember it and lock it somewhere in his Keonho-muddled brain.
“Hyeon I’m done, you can go now,” Keonho’s voice sounds softer like this, after a day’s worth of training—younger, less guarded.
Seonghyeon hums as he presses a hand into his bicep, nodding approvingly to himself as he could feel his arm thickening.
When he looks up, though, his breath immediately catches in his throat and he feels like he’s gonna shrivel up and die because of how ethereal Keonho looks.
Something in his Keonho-radar must’ve malfunctioned after he was made aware of just how pink Keonho was because he’s seen Keonho out of his shower multiple times but it feels so different now.
Keonho’s dressed comfortably, a worn-out band tee so oversized it slips over one shoulder that he doesn’t bother fixing and shorts that fall to his knees. He holds an arm up, still toweling his hair dry and Seonghyeon feels his mouth go dry at the way a sliver of the younger’s toned, slim waist is revealed.
Keonho looks warm. Warm in the way his skin is so prettily pink all over. Especially his cheeks and neck. Warm in the way the flush spreads from his collarbone down to places Seonghyeon could only dream of exploring. Warm in the way his hair is fluffed up, free from his signature beanies and layers of hair products.
Seonghyeon makes a rookie mistake of brushing his gaze over all of Keonho so now he’s painfully aware of how pink Keonho’s joints were too.
His knuckles, his elbows, his knees and his ankles. All the same shade of baby pink against honeyed skin and Seonghyeon wonders what else about him was pink.
He wonders if he were to apply just the slightest bit of pressure to any part of Keonho, they would turn the same delectable shade of pink.
It wouldn’t be too hard to reach a hypothesis—Keonho was so, so , sensitive. Always shying away from physical contact when it was others that initiated it first. So squirmish and sensitive it genuinely took all of Seonghyeon’s being to stop himself from trying to test out his theories of just where Keonho felt the most squeamish.
He forces his eyes back up and makes immediate eye contact with the younger and for a while, just the slightest extra second, they held each other’s intense gaze.
The tension in the room suddenly felt so thick—palpable and suffocating. It reeked of want, need and something more that Seonghyeon couldn’t name and it made him feel light-headed with desire.
It breaks when Keonho deems his hair dry enough and tosses it into the laundry basket (and misses by a margin but just leaves it be, knowing Seonghyeon would pick it up eventually) and collapses face-first onto his bed.
Seonghyeon tells himself he’s just imagining things when he sees a faint blush crawl up Keonho’s face, because—no way.
He snaps out of his Keonho-filled trance when Martin enters their shared room, all noise and smiles, and trudges his way into the bathroom.
Once inside, he locks the door behind him with a soft click.
He leans against the plastic door, mind still providing the fresh image of Keonho out of the shower—the delicious pinkness of the boy.
From his cheeks to his lips to his collarbone all the way down to his ankles. Seonghyeon just might go insane any day now.
He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, willing for the images to go away before his traitorous brain brings him down a rabbit hole of vulgar things that he should definitely not be thinking about.
But it’s proven impossible because Keonho is just that unforgettable. In every possible way.
In the way he performs on stage, in the way he treats everyone with so much respect off-stage, in the way he was so endearing and adorable it was as if squeaky noises were being made with every step he took and drastically unforgettable in how deliciously pink he was.
Seonghyeon’s thoughts darken as Keonho’s pretty face was replaced with the sight of exposed clavicles and shoulders. Seonghyeon faintly thinks about how Keonho’s Adam’s apple was pink too. And he wonders if Keonho’s pinkness would match with bruises that ranged from yellow to purple. Or maybe even red.
He slaps a hand to his face when he registers what the actual hell he was thinking about but his brain uselessly supplies the image of the sliver of waist Keonho showed off just now.
It wasn’t even his first time seeing Keonho’s body, he’s seen the boy half-naked in the pool but for some reason seeing Keonho’s waist so innocently shown off made him so hot and bothered.
He could feel his skin tingling with desire to take and take and take as much as Keonho would allow him to.
The defined lines of abs built from years of training yet somehow, the younger’s waist managed to stay so slim and dainty. He looks down at his hands, calloused and rough from hours spent at the gym and muses if the contrast between smooth skin and hardened palms would be as delicious as he thinks.
The thought itself sends him into a state of unhinged delirium.
Lightly flexing his hands, he thinks that they’d look better wrapped around Keonho’s lithe waist.
At that, Seonghyeon immediately splashes water onto his face and stares up at the reflection in the mirror.
He shakes his head and whispers, “I’m actually so fucked.”
(And when Seonghyeon hits the showers, he opts for a shockingly cold shower to calm his nerves and something else.)
Exhibit C.
They finally manage to break free from their hectic schedules and relentless hours of practice, albeit after many promises and even more bargains.
So, alas, they agreed to go to Dongmyo to do some intensive shopping and thrifting.
On the car ride there, though, Seonghyeon feels like he might just explode with the amount of jitters currently thrumming under his skin.
They’re in their van, Martin up front after yelling shotgun, James and Juhoon sitting comfortably side by side, bobbing their heads gently to the music playing in their respective ear pieces and conversing once in a while.
Seonghyeon and Keonho sat at the back—they always did. It was an unspoken rule that stemmed from routine and it just basically ended up becoming their designated little corner.
Unlike the middle row that were two separate seats, the back row was combined and cushioned exactly to how they liked it.
But sometimes, especially in moments like now when Seonghyeon was painfully aware of his ever growing feelings for Keonho and this insatiable urge to kiss the boy senseless, their solace felt increasingly like punishment.
The warmth shared between the two felt like a line Seonghyeon knew he shouldn’t cross.
The shared wired earphones that they’ve kept customary since trainee days forced a casual closeness that Seonghyeon felt was too restricting.
And right now, with earphones plugged in to their respective sides and Keonho’s head resting on his shoulder, Seonghyeon feels restricted in ways he’s never felt before.
The slow indie of ‘Images of Love’ fades into a distant hum in his ear as Seonghyeon stares down at the boy that was currently curling into his side.
Every time he sees Keonho, he swears it's his favourite version of the younger but Seonghyeon swears to his sagging addiction that this version of Keonho was his favourite.
Keonho with his wavy, soft hair let down and tousles that tickled Seonghyeon’s jaw with every bump the van drove over. Keonho and his very obvious battle with the urge to sleep that he was clearly losing if his slow blinks and sudden jolts were to say anything. Keonho and his stupidly long lashes that brushed against the high of his cheeks every time he blinked. Keonho and his damned pink lips that unconsciously formed into a pout when he slept.
Keonho, rid of all things work-related and nestled so compliantly, so trustingly into Seonghyeon’s side as if he knew Seonghyeon would do anything in his power to protect him.
Seonghyeon’s chest tightens uncontrollably at the thought of Keonho choosing him. Choosing him instead of their leader, instead of the reliable, oldest member. Choosing him instead of his supposed favourite hyung.
And Seonghyeon absolutely revels in it. Let’s himself simmer in his fantasy that despite it all, Keonho would always choose him.
He faintly hears Martin asking the manager how long til they reach and the inaudible answer.
But he couldn’t care less when he had the boy of his dreams in his arms, pliant and so, so pretty.
And so he lets Keonho’s gentle breaths lull him into slumber as well, head tipping down to rest on top of the other’s.
He only wakes when he hears James’ giggle and the halt of the van’s constant movement.
He cracks an eye open and the first thing he registers is the dull ache forming on his left shoulder and the familiar scent of strawberry and clean linen hits his senses. He also notices the loss of music playing in his ear.
James yelps at the sudden eye contact and immediately shoves his phone away and turns around, whistling, “If you lovebirds are done, we’ve reached. The three of us are gonna hit the thrift first.”
Seonghyeon rolls his eyes openly at his words but can’t suppress the flush creeping up his neck at the thought of him and Keonho possibly being lovers.
(He makes a mental note to force James to send him the picture he took later too.)
Sighing softly, he gently wakes the peacefully sleeping boy tucked away in his embrace, voice coming out in low timbres, “Keonho-ya, we're here. Wake up.”
He feels the rustling of the parka and the incessant brushing of hair against his jaw from beside him as the boy wakes up.
He mourns the loss when the younger lifts his head up and winces at the strain in his neck, letting out small, wounded noises as he squints his eyes to adjust to his surroundings again.
“Let’s go, Keoni. The rest already hit the thrift a good five minutes ago,” He urges gingerly as his fingers thread through the subtle brown curls.
Keonho preens into the touch and leans even closer into Seonghyeon’s personal space and Seonghyeon almost didn’t want to go out anymore.
Almost.
He still wants to at least hit the cosmetic store to assist Keonho in buying his lip balms. Partly because he stayed up late into the night to search up ‘different shades of pink’ and ‘best lip products’ to provide Keonho with the best advice.
He’s also partially terrified with the number of discoveries he made during his long internet surfs because now he knows the exact shade of pink each part of Keonho was.
The flush on his cheeks was brick pink. The pink on the button of his nose was subtle, a cuter salmon. His ears when he was complimented always painted itself a deep punch colour. And his lips, his pretty, bare lips was, in Seonghyeon’s opinion, the prettiest shade of pink—watermelon pink.
He also spent an embarrassing amount of time researching what tone Keonho was and which kinds of shades would match him most. Although, he wholeheartedly believed that Keonho looked objectively good in everything he wore.
After much coaxing, they made it out of the van and walked unhurriedly to the cosmetic store.
Luckily, they were there at an odd hour on a weekday so there was basically nobody there to disturb them. No paparazzi, no relentless stares from “fans” and no cameras.
As they made their way up, their shoulders brushed one too many times to count but neither of them shied away from the touch, even moving impossibly closer so that their pinkies would catch every so often.
Seonghyeon stole one too many glances at the boy beside him only to find him still adorably stuck in that devastatingly cute sleepy state of his.
He looks away and chuckles to himself at the overwhelming endearment he felt towards the younger.
But he promptly stops as Keonho closes up the gap again from when it widened just a fraction—barely noticeable to the naked eye unless you felt the split second of absence in contact between the two.
Upon arrival at the store, Keonho visibly lights up and makes a run towards the make-up section and Seonghyeon automatically follows.
They spend the next twenty or so minutes swatching different shades of pink on their hands and Seonghyeon impressively endures being the center of attention from Keonho’s shimmering eyes on him when he asks for his opinions.
Seonghyeon also effectively forgets all his colour theory and knowledge when he sees a dozen colours of similar shades lined up one against the other and genuinely feels lightheaded from overstimulation.
But he still pulls through to pick out five of his personal favourites and tosses them into the basket he picked up from the entrance of the shop and pats himself on the back at the way Keonho flashes him one of the brightest smiles ever.
They move over to the skincare section next and instead of searching for his own products that were on its last three uses, he observes Keonho instead.
He admires the youthful energy radiating from the younger—from his messily styled wavy hair, to the roundness of his cheeks when he smiled, to the distractingly long eyelashes framing even prettier eyes that held the entire galaxy inside them and finally to the devastatingly pretty, pink lips of the younger.
Seonghyeon’s eyes instinctively drift to the basket and mentally notes that all Keonho bought had been lip tints and not the lip balms that he was running low on.
Smoothly, with two long strides, he’s back in the make-up section and he runs his eyes through all the labels until they land on the lip balms.
He grabs a few, snatching the blue and purple Laniege ones Keonho mentioned briefly and some that had ‘strawberry-scented’ imprinted on their packaging simply because he knew Keonho loves all things strawberry.
From the corner of his eye, he spots a blindingly sparkly lip gloss and is immediately drawn to it.
The image of Keonho’s plush lips shining with this much glitter already enough to send him into cardiac arrest from how much he desperately needs to see it in real life.
Just to his luck, he manages to snatch the last one available before a teenage girl could reach for it.
He shoots her a semi-apologetic grin and slides right back to Keonho’s side.
Keonho must have not noticed his absence as he just finished picking out something from the lowest row of the section and turned around.
Seonghyeon’s heart does backflips at the absolutely heartwarming sight of Keonho hugging tens of products close to his chest, balancing them with his chin to keep them from toppling over.
It’s only when Keonho releases all the baggage into the cart does Seonghyeon realise that half of those weren’t even the products the younger used and it was actually the ones that Seonghyeon himself was running out on.
Keonho doesn’t say anything and continues his journey around the store while Seonghyeon can only smile like an absolutely lovesick idiot.
His goofy grin doesn’t die as they reach the cashier and he wordlessly pays for everything.
He pretends not to notice the 400,000 won escaping from his bank account and focuses his attention on the boy that was literally vibrating in excitement beside him. Because if it meant seeing Keonho’s blinding smile and even pinker cheeks, Seonghyeon would spend his whole bag and possibly go into debt.
(He also makes the younger try out the extra glittery lip gloss and nearly gets a nosebleed from how kissable his sparkly lips looked. He also decides that he’s a qualified makeup artist at how well his tint choices looked on the younger. The artificial pink of the tints and the softness of the younger’s lips matching each other devastatingly well.)
-
Seonghyeon wishes he could slap himself as he recalls his absolute downright down-bad behaviour and glances slightly to his side to see if Keonho had noticed his inner turmoil.
Thankfully, the boy was still immersed in the slow melody of ‘Images of Love’, muttering the lyrics under his breath as he nursed the strawberry latte in both hands, finger wriggling around to get a semblance of warmth from the cardboard cupsleeve.
He still doesn’t quite understand why Keonho begged him to go out tonight. Provided that it was their day-off tomorrow, it was still unlike the younger one to plead with him to go out. Although there wasn’t a need for much pleading, Seonghyeon always folds under zero pressure for Keonho.
But, he’s glad Keonho brought him out tonight. He’s given free reign to admire Keonho without any disturbances.
Seonghyeon can’t help but think that in moments like this, when the sky was dim and the only lights were the ones from street lamps, too late to even have people out, save for the few cars passing by and the frosty bite of the late winter air welcoming them as it blew, that Keonho looked ethereal.
Without the harsh lighting and the constant shoving of cameras into their faces, it was just Keonho.
Keonho with his signature eye smile that crinkled into soft crescents. Keonho with his grey knitted beanie that hid his unruly hair from his laziness to style it. Keonho swimming in a hoodie that gave him sweater paws and brushed at his thighs. Keonho with his ever-present love for all things strawberry. Keonho with his pretty pink lips glazed in an even pinker gloss (one of the ones Seonghyeon picked, by the way). Keonho with his pretty pink cheeks that grew even pinker when he was happy.
And a new addition—Keonho’s nose that was slowly reddening from the chilly air, dusting it pink to match the rest of him.
He looks younger like this, cheeks soft and demeanour unguarded.
He swings his legs a little, even though his feet were already grazing the rough concrete below.
The wind blows again, curling softly around them in a chilly embrace. Keonho shudders and shuffles instinctively closer to Seonghyeon.
In return, Seonghyeon wraps an arm around him and pulls him flush against his side. They relax into each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if it was needless to say that Seonghyeon would always welcome Keonho into his arms, no matter the circumstances.
In moments like these, all Seonghyeon wanted was to shield the precious boy in his arms from all things ugly in life.
No, his obsession ran deeper than that.
He wanted to hide Keonho from the rest of the cruel world.
He wanted Keonho all to himself. All of Keonho, especially the prettiest, pinkest parts of him.
He hadn’t even realised he was staring at Keonho’s pink glossed over lips until he spoke, “Seonghyeon-ah,” the boy in question hums, focusing his attention to the doe eyes staring back at him, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
Seonghyeon choked, coughing as his mind ran, “Of course Keonho-ya. You’re pretty.”
Everything was pretty about the boy lying on his shoulder—the crinkle of his eyes, the beauty marks decorating his face, the roundness of his cheeks down to the upturned corner of his lip.
But Seonghyeon felt the words get stuck in his throat, Adam's apple bobbing uselessly as the confession died on his tongue.
As he glances back at Keonho, the boy once again juts out his bottom lip, cheeks puffing out into his signature pout.
He sighs a frustrated sigh and sits up in a swift motion.
Seonghyeon’s eyes widen and he immediately coaxes the younger boy, “Why, what’s wrong Keoni?”
The latter proceeds to swivel the other way, refusing to look at the other.
“Keonho, what’s wrong?” Seonghyeon presses further, warm palms encircling the other’s torso, trying his best to angle his head to see even a hint of Keonho’s expression.
But Keonho still wouldn’t relent, forcing his body rigid as Seonghyeon’s head drops down to the other’s shoulder, arms now tightening around the younger’s unbelievably lithe waist, “Keonho talk to me, what’s wrong aegi?”
“…Stupid Seonghyeon,” He mumbles, grumbling more incoherent sentences under his breath.
“Huh? What did you say?” Seonghyeon asks, tone genuinely confused. Things were going so great, what changed?
That must’ve snapped something in Keonho as he reluctantly turned around, the tip of his nose even redder than it was before and his eyes glassy.
“Is this just your way of rejecting me? I swear I’ve been making my advances for weeks. I thought you liked me too…guess I’m the stupid one,” He huffs, pink lips trembling with each breath and voice wavering towards the end.
He stands up as abruptly as his mood swings and before he could go, Seonghyeon instinctively reaches out to stop him. The strawberry latte tips precariously at the edge of the bench from the sudden movements.
His mind short-circuits as he registers Keonho’s words and his fingers tighten around Keonho’s bony wrist, pulling him towards his chest.
“Wait, Keonho, you can’t just drop that bomb on me and expect me to be okay,” He croaks out, voice sounding strangled as his breath catches in his throat while he formulates what to say.
Keonho’s back is pressed flush against his chest and he can feel the younger boy’s figure shake slightly and the small sniffles he was trying to hide.
Seonghyeon exhales before dropping his head back onto the younger’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar strawberry and clean linen that had become such an essential part of Seonghyeon’s life.
“I don’t even know where to start…Keonho I think I’ve been in love with you since, well, forever. Even before I registered what this feeling was, I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the start. Your bright, adorable antics, your smile, your laughs, your pinkness , your everything, I love all of it. You’re so pretty, no, more than pretty, you’re so much more than these feeble words. You’re…everything I believe in and wish for. I really didn’t know you liked me too. God I feel like such an idiot, I’m sorry aegi,” Seonghyeon stumbles, words awkward but sincere. He never knew a day where he was confessing his undying love for Keonho to Keonho would ever come.
He mentally slaps himself at how ass that sounded on a second thought and loosens his grip, which allows Keonho to turn around slowly.
Keonho tilts his head up ever so slightly, boba eyes glimmering with bushes tears under the street lamp’s soft light and Seonghyeon feels his chest constrict with pure want and need.
“Did you really mean that?” Keonho whispers.
“All of it. Every single word,” Seonghyeon reassures, voice toned down to match Keonho’s.
Keonho collapses into his arms at the sound of that and Seonghyeon’s solid arms wrap around him in a warm embrace.
They stay like that for a while—Keonho tucked safely into Seonghyeon’s steady presence as the older swayed them slowly back and forth to the gentle melody that still played in the background.
“Keonho-ya,” Seonghyeon starts, voice low and soft.
He receives a sweet hum in return and feels the tickle of the yarn from the younger’s beanie shifting against his neck as Keonho tilts his head up.
“I know this might be an asshole move but, will you grace me with the title of being Ahn Keonho’s boyfriend?” Seonghyeon rasps out, averting his eyes as the weight of Keonho’s stare starts to grow unbearable for him.
“Thought you would’ve never asked,” Keonho smiles and boops their noses together.
This time, Seonghyeon really can’t take it anymore, so with the barely there self-restraint he had left, he mustered up the courage to ask before he did anything rash.
“Can I kiss you?”
Instead of a response, he's met with plush lips pressed tenderly against his own and Seonghyeon deems that he can die happily now.
The kiss conveys more than just affection—it carries the years of longing, the adoration and the intangible yearning that they’ve both been harbouring.
Seonghyeon curls an arm around Keonho’s small waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world and assumes his other hand behind Keonho’s head, deepening the kiss.
Keonho cups Seonghyeon’s face in both hands and Seonghyeon feels them both melt and relax into the kiss.
He does taste like strawberries, Seonghyeon belatedly realises as they pull apart for air, and something sweeter, something undeniably Keonho.
(And Seonghyeon decides that he loves the shade of pink Keonho’s lips were after they kissed the most.)
Pink Feathers
And everlasting light
I wrote this for you