Archive of Our Own

One of Woonhak's shoes keeps coming untied.

It's annoying him— he's been wandering throughout the city for a couple of hours now and like clockwork, every fifteen to twenty minutes, the laced of his left shoe get loose and fall out of their tie.

Not only has he almost tripped and embarrassed himself several times now, but this last time, he swears he could have died. He huffs under his breath and tucks off to the side of the pavement to retie his show; while he's doing so, he can help but notice commotion to his right.

Music bleeds outwards from the dark alley, a heavy bass almost making the sidewalk under his feet shake. Woonhak can practically feel the vibrations, it makes him clutch his camcorder a bit tighter as if it could tumble from his grip.

A man walks around him, headed towards a large mental door being held open midway down the alley with a cinder block. "Excuse me," Woonhak darts forward to catch up with him, "What's happening in there? Is it some sort of party?"

The man regards Woonhak with a slightly bemused expression, wrinkled lines around his eyes deepening as he snorts. "Somethin' like that, sure. Boxing match."

Woonhak's eyebrows shoot upwards, "Woah, really? Is it free entry?"

A bark of raspy laughter. "Yeah, but if you wanna have real fun it's smart to place your bets."

Woonhak follows him in through the door way.

It seems like this building is some sort of warehouse— when he set out about with his wandering, Woonhak's only goal was to get some cool b-roll footage and clips to include in his current project with virtually no aim when it came to what he was going to film exactly. Very little plan, very little direction, just sort of meandering his way through the city streets hoping to find something interesting. He's gotten some cool stuff so far; a high tracked train zipping along the rails, people walking quickly at a busy crosswalk, a flock of birds all diverging out from a buildings tall edge.

All interesting, but nothing perfectly suitable for the mood of tension and grit he's trying to build with this film. Nothing quite right.

The room he steps into is huge. A high vaulted ceiling filled with metal bars and pipes, a dusty cement floor, and a few dozen people shouting and cheering over the booming music. There's a raised platform in the center, roped off like a real boxing ring, though from where he's standing he can't see what's happening inside of it. It smells like sweat and beer and iron, but the mood is so high and infectious in the room that Woonhak doesn't find himself caring all that much.

Woonhak raises his camcorder and turns it back on; he gets a few wide shots of the crowd, peering through the display to make sure the lighting is alright. The overhead lamps are all on and bright and paint the whole room in a sickly yellowish glow, making the shadows seem harsher, but it looks cool to him so he doesn't mind.

When Woonhak is happy with the shots he's taken of the people surrounding the platform, he tries to squeeze a bit closer. There's two people in the ring, each throwing wide punches, and Woonhak raises his camera to better capture their movements. One of them looks like a guy in his late twenties roughly, blonde hair and a mean bruise around one of his eyes. The other has his back towards Woonhak at first, so all he sees is broad shoulders and swift movements.

Even still, with the lack of Woonhak's ability to truly see this man, he's the one that draws his attention. It's like an inherent magnetism, making Woonhak peer up from his camcorder display so he can observe with his own eyes.

Sweat has soaked through a bit of the mans dark shirt so the fabric sticks to his back, showing the curve of his spine when he shifts his weight. He dodges a hit from his opponent and Woonhak watches, stunned, as he returns the blow with his own boxing glove, bright red landing right against the other guys cheek.

A loud buzzer sounds from somewhere, Woonhak doesn't bother looking, far too captivated by the scene in front of him. Both fighters relax, awaiting the results, and within about a minute an older man with a whistle around his neck steps under the ropes and onto the platform. He grabs both of the men's wrists, and the one that Woonhak's felt a little transfixed by finally turns to face towards him, making Woonhak's breath catch in his throat.

The man in the dark shirt currently having his hand lifted up towards the sky— the man who's grinning in satisfaction as he's announced as the winner, the man who's chest is heaving with uneven breath with a trail of crimson blood dripping down his lips from his nose, is none other than Myung Jaehyun.

Myung Jaehyun, aka one of the most talked about boys at Woonhak's school. Revered for his charming smile, his likeability, his constant involvement in just about everything worthwhile on campus. Woonhak recognizes him quickly despite the difference in how Jaehyun looks here opposed to how he appears around school.

On campus, Jaehyun is always so put together when Woonhak catches a glimpse of him. He wears black, thick framed glasses, always has his hair perfectly trimmed, nose always in a book when he's not the center of the rooms attention. Right now, he almost looks like a different person.

Woonhak's eye trail him as he dips under the ropes, walking towards where a group of men are awaiting him with wide smiles and what looks like cash. Jaehyun is still bleeding from his nose but he doesn't even look like he cares— he wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand and smears the deep red over his lips and onto his cheek. Woonhak is transfixed. He kind of feels crazy.

Jaehyun drags the same hand through his hair, strands shiny from his own sweat, a few strands immediately falling back into his eyes. Woonhak watches him collect stacks of cash from the men, most of them patting him on the back or shaking his hand. Does he do this a lot? He must do this a lot. He seems comfortable in this place, despite how foreign of an environment it feels to Woonhak. Everyone seems to carry that same respect and admiration for him here as they do at school. It's like he has his own orbit.

Woonhak raises his camcorder, zooming the camera in just slightly, focusing it on Jaehyun. He manages to catch him laughing, head tipping back, his throat muscles making something hungry turn and tighten in his gut.

Someone bumps into Woonhak trying to walk around him and it makes him jerk, his fingers quickly finding the off button on his camera until the familiar tune chimes to let him know it's turned off.

He looks to whoever it was, wanting to apologize, but they're already too far out of ear shot so he doesn't bother. By the time Woonhak glances back at where Jaehyun was standing, he's gone. It's as if he was never there in the first place.

Woonhak frowns and steps out from the crowd; there's a few places near the jagged brick interiors where the amount of people thins out, making it easier for him to rise up on his toes and survey over the sea of bodies. He just barely catches a glimpse of Jaehyun then, exiting out another door at the very back of the room.

Before Woonhak can talk himself out of it from fear of being creepy or unwanted, he starts to follow. He weaves through the people blocking his path until he reaches the door, pushing it open with a high pitched creak.

It leads him into a dark alley, much thinner and quieter than the one that Woonhak found this place through. Sconces are spread along the outside wall and they softly illuminate the space in a dim blue light; tonights air is a bit humid, it's only gotten warmer as the sun has set, but it's not all that terrible to be in.

Woonhak lets the door swing shut behind him and steps closer albeit anxiously. Jaehyun is leant against the wall just a few paces away from him; he's too busy wrapping his hand to look at Woonhak, carefully looping gauze over his palm and around his bruised knuckles.

He gets a bit distracted just watching for a moment. The way that the relative darkness kisses Jaehyun's figure is impossibly alluring, as if the whispers of light are too shy to fully touch him. Woonhak gets it. He would be too.

Jaehyun finally turns to look at him when he tucks the gauze under itself, flexing his hand like he's testing if it's secure. He jumps a bit when his gaze lands on Woonhak, eyes widening. "Oh! Jeez, I'm sorry I didn't say something I had just assumed you were one of my coaches.."

Woonhak smiles, holding his camcorder a bit tighter than usual and picking at the sides of the buttons with his thumb nail. "It's okay, sorry, I—how many coaches do you have, just out of curiosity?"

An amused expression passes over Jaehyun's face, "A few. Hey, you look familiar, do we know each other?"

It's a hard question for Woonhak to answer. See, him and Jaehyun have a decent amount by of mutual friends; Woonhak's best friend Dongmin and Jaehyun apparently bonded when they rented out the campuses recording booths next to each other and started 'talking about life', whatever that means. Minami, Woonhak's other best friend, started dating a girl in Jaehyun's more close knit circle, so occasionally he sees Jaehyun in passing when he's with her. Woonhak also happens to know where Jaehyun lives, but that's another story.

"I'm friends with Dongmin and Minami," is what he settles on. "I see you, sometimes."

Jaehyun stares at him for a long moment and then his lips curl up at the corners.

"You bought edibles from Donghyun once, didn't you?"

Woonhak blanches. Ah. That's the other story.

(It's exactly why Sanghyuk will never be someone Woonhak goes to for contacts ever again. Far before he learned about Jaehyun from anyone else, Woonhak had texted Sanghyuk wondering if he knew anyone selling edibles, because he was struggling a bit with his insomnia towards the beginning of the school year. Sanghyuk had replied, 'yeah, this guy I'm fucking does, I'll tell him you want some.'

Woonhak pulled up to the address Sanghyuk had sent him later that night (short walk, how convenient!) and knocked on the door— it was a small, brick, ground floor apartment, and older looking building with a cute porch out front. Who ended up answering the door though was Jaehyun, shirtless, a towel around his waist and body still dripping with water. Woonhak's fingers had clenched around the bundle of cash in his hand and his eyes had immediately flickered down to Jaehyun's bare torso to where droplets clung to every curve of his body.

"Donghyun?" Woonhak had asked dumbly. Jaehyun shook his head and then craned his head to the side to call out into his apartment,

"Donghyun!" Jaehyun turned back to him and his voice dropped back into a quieter, more casual tone, "Weed appointment, or dick appointment?"

Woonhak blinked. His ears burned. "Weed..?"

Jaehyun spun back around and shouted "Your weed appointment is here!"

And Jaehyun had just walked off after that, because real Donghyun was bounding up to the door and holding out a bag of edibles, but Woonhak thought about Jaehyun the whole time he was high.)

"I did, yeah," Woonhak leans arm first beside Jaehyun. "He gave me half off because I was referred by his 'favorite fuck buddy'."

That makes Jaehyun laugh at least, his head lolling back against the wall— there's still a bit of blood remaining in the cracks of his lips. "Ah—Sanghyuk, right? Donghyun's thinking about asking him out, you know."

Woonhak raises his eyebrows makes a soft noise of acknowledgement. At a different point in time, that information might have upset him, but he's done a lot to get over his schoolboy crush, and he knows Sanghyuk actually really likes Donghyun. He doesn't have to fake being happy for him. "Thank god, it's been a long time coming.."

Jaehyun nods and then his eyes drop to Woonhak's hands. "That a camera?"

"Oh! Yeah, um…I took a video of you winning, I hope that's okay.."

Jaehyun eyes widen just a bit, stepping a little closer with an excited smile. "Really? Can I see?"

Woonhak considers for merely a moment before he powers his camcorder back on. "Um, here-" he selects the video and lets it play. The screen shows a gritty, highly contrasted view he had of Jaehyun from the crowd. It shows the light dragging across him while he turns and has his arm lifted upwards, the crowd cheering in the background. Jaehyun gasps softly as he leans in close to watch, his eyes catching the light.

"This is really cool! You're a film major, right?" He glances up at Woonhak then, which, due to their proximity, makes Woonhak's throat tighten.

"Mhm," Woonhak feels heat start to prickle at his cheeks— being around Jaehyun makes him feel like a kid with a crush, a giddiness in his stomach that he usually only feels when he watches an exceptionally good rom-com. "What do you major again? It's something creative too, right?"

"I'm double majoring in music theory and creative writing," Jaehyun answers, a little sheepish, which surprises Woonhak because most people who double major are almost a little cocky about it, whereas Jaehyun almost seems too humble.

"That's really impressive," Woonhak says, "What kind of creative writing is your favorite?"

Jaehyun sighs softly and looks away, up towards the night sky. Light is gentle in its touch of his features, as if even the air itself is intimidated by someone so beautiful. Woonhak has never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

"I write a lot of poetry," Jaehyun fidgets a bit with the wraps around his knuckles and flexes his hands before dropping them back at his sides. "Hey, do you wanna go for a walk? There's a twenty four hour bodega a couple blocks away and I'm really craving some curly fries."

Woonhak has to take a moment to process, his eyes widening and a smile finding his lips. "Oh, sure, that sounds—yeah.."

Jaehyun snorts and takes a moment to peer towards the dark end of the alley, as if he's making sure no one will see him leave— then, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods towards the street. "Cool, lets go."

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The bodega lights are fluorescent and white, a couple workers behind the long counter. It's a big, open room, fridges lining the back wall filled with various drinks, with another wall featuring a small selection of snacks. The real star of the show is the food menu, three screens wide and filled with so many yummy sounding things that Woonhak's mouth starts to water.

Fries, burgers, paninis, even desserts. "What do you want?" Jaehyun asks, grabbing his wallet out from one of the pockets in his jeans and taking out some wrinkled cash.

"You don't have to get me anything," Woonhak assures quickly, "I was gonna order something once I got home, so.."

Jaehyun narrows his eyes, bumping their elbows together. "What do you want?"

Woonhak huffs out a laugh. "Um, a hamburger, I guess. Thank you.." he watches Jaehyun grin in triumph and walk up to the counter. He chats back and forth with the man ringing him up, a level of familiarity that leads Woonhak to believe that Jaehyun must come here often. Maybe it's some sort of post-match routine.

He walks back towards Woonhak with a receipt and leads him to a particular table in the corner. The chairs screech against the tiled floor but they're not uncomfortable to sit on— plus, Woonhak finally gets to set down his camcorder and crack his knuckles.

"What kind of poetry?"

Jaehyun looks at him from across the table quizzically, midway through taking a large swig of his water that he'd grabbed with his order. His throat bobs and Woonhak's eyes linger for just a moment (second time he's noticed his neck tonight. Woonhak is almost embarrassed by his own hunger.)

He's also pushed his hair back, so Woonhak gets to admire the view of his forehead— around campus, Jaehyun's hair is always down, so Woonhak's never noticed the fact that he has a slit shaved through one of his eyebrows. It's hot. He clears his throat. "Like, what kind of poetry do you write mostly? Or like, what's your favorite.."

At this, Jaehyun's expression turns more shy again. He's not necessarily guarded, but it's like he's trying to fight with himself. His shoulders draw up and he starts to pick at his cuticles again.

"That's kind of a hard question," he starts, and Woonhak props his head up with his hand. He's listening. He wants that to be known. "Because, structurally I tend to write free verse, if that's what you're asking, but if it's about subject matter, then.."

He trails off, but Woonhak nods quickly and smiles. "Go on!"

Jaehyun laughs softly and shakes his head. "Okay, well—I write a lot about emotions. Love, passion, sadness, fear, but I like to ground those emotional aspects in sensory details."

Woonhak hums softly. "And what does that look like?"

Jaehyun's shoulders start to relax and his mouth curls upwards. "Well, uh…okay! Let's make this fun, what's something you always take a second to stop and experience? Anything in life, no wrong answers."

Woonhak considers for a moment. "I really love storms."

"Really?" Jaehyun asks, but he's not judgemental about it, it's more like he's just taking the statement in. "Hmm, well storms are fun because in literature people most commonly associate them with conflict, external or internal, or negative emotions like anger. But I'm guessing storms don't make you angry?"

"Not at all," Woonhak shakes his head and Jaehyun laughs softly.

"So if you were writing a poem about storms, it would probably be a lot more adoring of the storm itself, while for me, I would probably connect it to…hm, maybe yearning?"

"Yearning," Woonhak echoes. "And you'd do this through.. sensory details? Is that what you said?"

Jaehyun shifts a bit, his chair creaking, and he leans forward over the table. There's more and more excitement seeping into his expression, and Woonhak finds himself infallibly drawn to way his mouth forms words when he starts to speak quickly.

"Right, so, we'll keep rolling with the storm thing— when it's about to storm, do you know that smell that comes out from the earth? You know the kind of hazy, gloomy look of the sky?" Jaehyun waits for Woonhak to nod before he continues. "I'd use those kinds of things. Little things that most people might know as truths, but maybe not think about them consciously. I like when poetry forces you to confront those things. When it makes you consider the smallest of details, and the ways they could make someone feel."

"Wow," Woonhak mutters softly. "You're really cool."

Jaehyun laughs, sudden and loud like he hadn't expected that to come out of Woonhak's mouth. It's then that a loud voice calls 'Ninety five!' from behind the counter and Jaehyun scrambles to check his receipt. "That's us," he grins, "Wait here."

He returns a few seconds later and sets the food down— it's all nicely put in to-go containers, and he pushes two things towards Woonhak, his hamburger and also a side of chili fries. Woonhak's mouth waters.

"Jaehyun, you really didn't have to-"

"I know," Jaehyun cuts him off. He sits back down and starts opening up his own chili fries, beaming. "This stuff is so good—truly a hidden gem, this place, it's like my little secret."

Woonhak unfolds the foil tucked around the lip of the containers lid. "And yet you brought me…should I be honored, or scared? Does you bringing me here mean you have to kill me?"

"You should be honored," Jaehyun responds decisively. He pops a fry into his mouth and winks. "You're too cute to kill."

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The city always gets a bit quiet about this time of night.

Never silent, but quieter. It makes him and Jaehyun's walk to the train station a lot more peaceful, and a lot more intimate.

They talked a lot before leaving the bodega, even after they'd both gotten full of their meals. He already feels like he knows way more about Jaehyun than he does most of his friends that he's had since he started college.

As he walks, he finds himself trying to take note of the things that he usually overlooks. The rattle of the passing trains shifting on their tracks. The plants that manage to grow between the cracks of the sidewalk. The smell of a cars exhaust that drives past them. The distant stars made hazy from light pollution.

Jaehyun is holding both of their food left-overs in two plastic bags from the bodega. Woonhak tried to take it from him, since Jaehyun paid, but the older refused. Said it was the 'gentlemanly thing to do' which, made Woonhak laugh, but it also has him wondering if Jaehyun realizes how much this feels like a date.

They reach their station and Jaehyun checks the time. "We have about ten minutes to kill," he settles down on one of the benches and sets the bags down. "So, what kind of movies do you make?"

Woonhak blinks. Now he's the sheepish one. "Honestly, I'm—I'm still trying to figure that out? I've done just a few short projects right now, I think…I'm still finding out what I wanna say in them. What my message is."

Jaehyun leans his head against the wall behind him. The station is decently lit, but where Jaehyun sits is dark. Woonhak has to focus a bit to see him clearly, which he does, because he's really enjoying looking at him tonight. "That's part of the fun," Jaehyun says. "Art, creation— it's the humanity in it that makes it so beautiful. The ability to shape something in whatever way, whether it's writing or crafting or getting the perfect shots. I'm sure whatever you've been trying has been good."

A smile takes Woonhak's face. "You're…really kind," he scratches at the back of his head as he steps forward, sitting beside Jaehyun slowly, as if he's afraid getting too close might reveal just how much he wants to be in his vicinity.

To that Jaehyun wrinkles his nose. "I don't know about that. I'm just me."

Woonhak wants to argue that Jaehyun could never just be anything, but he bites his tongue. "Can I ask you something?"

Jaehyun knocks their knees together, and it feels deliberate. "Why not?"

"So, I asked you about poetry already, but…what got you into boxing?"

Jaehyun reaches out as he speaks— for a second, Woonhak thinks he's trying to hold his hand, but instead his finger hooks in the safety cord that Woonhak usually puts around his wrist when he's recording. He just fiddles with it. His knuckle brushes the top of Woonhak's hand. "Honestly? I started out because I needed the money— I still do, actually, but I definitely enjoy it now, too. It's become a bit of a release for me."

Woonhak nods. "Do you usually win?"

A grin blooms over Jaehyun's face. "Nowadays, yes. When I first started…not so much. Coach Choi always tells me that it's my stubbornness that sets me apart; no matter how many times I get knocked out, I always get back up."

"That's poetic," Woonhak grins. Jaehyun catches his eye and laughs.

"It sure is."

The quiet lingers for a moment, stretching until Woonhak breaks it. "You can totally punch me if I'm overstepping, but why do you need the money?"

Jaehyun hesitates for a moment, but it's not long enough to make Woonhak regret asking. "My mom works two jobs and we still barely get by. When my older brother was around, it was easier, but now he's married and has a kid and has his own worries, so I'm just trying to help her out."

"Wow," Woonhak's eyes flutter and this time, he's the one who reaches out, taking Jaehyun's hand in his own. He's never held a hand wrapped in gauze before— it doesn't feel bad. He could get used to it. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to overstep."

"You didn't," Jaehyun assures. He holds his hand back. "Honestly, it's— it's strange.. when I talk to you, you feel familiar. It's like I already know you, it's… comfortable. Do you feel it? I hope you do. I'll be a bit embarrassed if you don't."

Woonhak does. He has since they first started talking, and even before that, when he only knew Jaehyun in passing, he felt drawn to him in the most indescribable way. "I feel it."

The tracks start to shake, the platform under his feet vibrating. A white glow starts to creep over Jaehyun's face and he smiles.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

They enter the train car at the very back, and it happens to be empty. The doors ding closed behind them and they sit on one of the smooth benches side by side.

Jaehyun groans softly and rolls his neck. "God, twenty minute train ride, I might just fall asleep," he's joking, but his eyes look heavy. Woonhak inches a little closer.

He doesn't say anything, because it feels embarrassing to do so, but he pats his shoulder. Jaehyun looks at him for a moment, seeming amused, and then he actually takes him up on it. He tucks his head against Woonhak's shoulder and his eyes fall closed, melting into him.

Woonhak appreciates the moment for what it is; the quiet, the shake of the train, the warmth of Jaehyun's cheek. He takes it in, soaks himself in it like a hot spring. And then he pulls out his phone. First, he sends a text to Dongmin confirming their plans for a movie night tomorrow, and then he opens up his notes app. He makes sure Jaehyun's eyes are firmly shut before he starts to type.

You said you're 'just you', but that doesn't seem like enough.

To me, you are hope. A body of strength and passion.

You are the persistent plants that manage to sprout,

bursting between the thinnest cracks of cement.

You are the smell of earth before a storm,

warm and deep and endlessly intriguing.

You are the stars, pretty and bright,

but not as close as I'd like.

It feels like I know you despite our time,

and it makes me wonder about life and how that works.

Do I know you? Have I met you in another life? Will I, in the next?

Were we always fated to meet?

Woonhak shuts his phone off. It feels silly— his ears get hot and he exhales in a slow rhythm. He's always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, but it feels a little much to write something like this about a guy that he's only truly known for a couple of house. (Those hours have been great, sure, but that's besides the point.)

He's getting ahead of himself again. He always does this; with his movies, with his academics, with his little whims. Woonhak has a habit of getting swept away in a thought, and while this isn't really the first time he's done it for romantic-esque feelings, it certainly feels different. Jaehyun feels different.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Woonhak shakes Jaehyun awake when their stop is coming up— the older yawns and stretches and then laughs gently. "Wow, I didn't expect to actually doze off. Sorry for using you as a pillow.."

"It's okay," you can use me however you'd like "I'm just glad I wasn't too bony."

Him and Jaehyun's dorm buildings aren't that far apart, about a five minute walk if your pace is good, but Jaehyun is rather insistent on walking him home. He makes the excuse that it's because he's older, so he should see that Woonhak gets home safely, but there's a slight flush to his cheeks when he says it that Woonhak notices. It's not something he can really misinterpret.

"Let me walk you in," Jaehyun says as they near Woonhak's building. He says of course, for nothing but a few extra seconds of Jaehyun's presence.

"I'm this one," Woonhak nods towards his door, fishing his keys out of his back pocket with the hand that's not holding onto his camcorder. I don't want this to end, Woonhak thinks. I'm already missing you.

Jaehyun leans against the wall next to his door frame. "I'm gonna say something crazy, and you're welcome to tell me that I sound insane and to fuck off if you want me to," he starts. Woonhak pauses with his keys and huffs through his nose.

"Go on..?"

Jaehyun's tongue drags over his bottom lip as his eyes flicker away. "I'd like to hang out with you again, Woonhak. Maybe, I dunno, get food somewhere a little nicer? You could show me a movie?"

Woonhak's heart skips a beat. "Ha—it kinda sounds like you're asking me out, Jaehyun," he stumbles over his words a bit and it makes him wince, but he tries to school his expression into something more relaxed.

"Well, I am," Jaehyun shrugs. "You can still tell me to fuck off, that window hasn't closed…"

"No, no," Woonhak laughs and shakes his head quickly. How is it possible that Jaehyun's smile is still so dazzling in the shitty grayed out light of his apartment hallways? "I would like that a lot."

Jaehyun looks physically relieved. "Oh, thank god. I wasn't even fully sure you liked men, much less were interested in me, I was just flying blind."

Woonhak's smile doesn't let up. He considers for a second, then decides to be brave. "Hey, I…I wasn't gonna show you this, because it felt like too much, and it still kinda does, but I think maybe I should just do it.."

"Show me," Jaehyun says quickly, his eyes twinkling, and he hooks the handles of the bags of food on his doorknob. Woonhak digs his phone back out his pocket and reopens it to the note.

"Okay, I'm not sure if you could call this a poem, but it's certainly something.. Here."

Jaehyun takes it in his hands and his eyes trail across the screen. His expression turns unreadable as he takes in the words. It takes him a while to say something, Woonhak's sure he's read over it a few times before he finally looks up.

"Woonhak, this— you wrote this about me?"

He nods once. "On the train." Jaehyun's lips purse and he passes back his phone. Woonhak slips it back into his pocket.

"You know.. I've written a lot of poems in my life. A lot about people, too, but I think…I know this is the first time I've ever had one written about me. And it was beautiful."

"I'll get better at it," Woonhak mutters. "You inspired me."

Jaehyun looks at him for a long, quiet moment. "Woonhak.." he stands up straight, leaning up from the wall, and steps forward. "I would really like to kiss you."

Woonhak's eyes widen and he, because he knows himself, likely makes the dumbest expression possible as he processes. "Um. I would really like you to do that too-"

Hands find the curve of Woonhak's hips and pull him closer. Jaehyun leans up on his toes to match his height and kisses him, head tilted to the side, his lips warm and plush. Woonhak stiffens for a moment— not necessarily panic, just a lot of feelings, all at once.

His hands are full so he can't hold Jaehyun back, which upsets him a little because there's nothing that he wants more than to let his hands take root somewhere until he memorizes what Jaehyun's body feels under his palms. At least he can kiss him— and kiss him he does.

At some point, Jaehyun giggles breathlessly against his mouth and his teeth catch purposefully on Woonhak's bottom lip. "Slow," Jaehyun whispers.

"Sorry," Woonhak obliges without even considering any other option. Jaehyun goes back to kissing him and Woonhak is slower this time, even if he's so excited that he could fathom dropping his camcorder (a nightmare realistically, but he's yearning god dammit.

Jaehyun pulls back, and he wonders if it's because he knows Woonhak wouldn't be the one to do it— he must be able to taste the desperation on him. "I need your phone back."

Woonhak goes to give it to him without asking what he could need it for— he swipes it open and holds it out and then watches Jaehyun send a text to his own number from Woonhak's phone.

"There," he says, beaming so wide that his dimple pulls Woonhak's gaze. "Now I can text you about that date."

"Course," Woonhak agrees bashfully. He swears when he licks over his own bottom lip, that he can taste hints of iron from Jaehyun's mouth. He takes the containers of food Jaehyun hands him from the bags and thanks him. "You should let me film your matches more. Or, just like, you in general."

Jaehyun's nose wrinkles again with his smile and he nods, his eyes turning into cute crescents. "Whatever you want."

"Text me when you get home safe?" Woonhak asks, and Jaehyun blows him a kiss.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jaehyun :) 2:19 AM

!! I'm home !!

2:21 AM

Yay, good!

victory-jae.mp4

Here's this, by the way! Thought you might like having it

Jaehyun :) 2:22 AM

WOW this is so cool!!!!! alsoooo do you think i could have that poem?

2:22 AM

Lol, you really want that?

Jaehyun :) 2:22 AM

omg duh.. PLS? :3

2:23 AM

shared note: confession

Jaehyun :) 2:25 AM

<3 thank u

goodnight, woonhak :))

2:26 AM

Sweet dreams ♡♡