Chapter Text
Ryul isn’t one to be ruffled by anything, most of the time.
Ohyul thinks that he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Ryul genuinely react to anything or be affected by anything, that he doesn’t play up on purpose for the cameras.
It’s something Ohyul had always envied about the younger, as someone who had always needed to fight the overly intense expressions from breaking through on his own face, especially when they were on camera.
So when he decides to sit down and properly work on it, determining to himself that this was just another form of training— media training, what have you— he decides that there’s no-one better than Ryul to use as a point of reference.
He doesn’t necessarily say it out loud, mostly out of concern that speaking it into existence would somehow skew the results; he needed to observe Ryul in his natural habitat.
So he lets himself watch Ryul in doses, eyes following him casually during training, watching the way he interacts with the younger members and staff, or the way he analyses their recordings with that usual, calm expression, and he finds through watching— observing— that Ryul is more expressive than he lets on.
It’s really in the little things— the slight twist of Ryul’s lip when he’s dissatisfied or displeased, or how his jaw tightens slightly when he’s feeling tense. The way his eyes light up when he’s fooling around with the members, or the way they dart about slightly when he’s uneasy.
The observations are helpful.
But there’s one other thing he learns about that he doesn’t really know how to react to.
It’s that whenever Ohyul comes too close, Ryul seems to malfunction entirely.
It wasn’t odd for Ryul to be still at times— not nearly as chaotic in movement as the younger members, unless he was intentionally playing things up for comedic effect.
But with all of his newfound observations, Ohyul notices something else entirely— the way the younger’s entire body locks in place when he comes too close, as if not even daring to breathe.
It’s only for a split second, really, and to an outsider, it would seem entirely ordinary, tying almost perfectly into his usually calm expression and demeanour.
But then his eyes would suddenly dart away, as if suddenly taken by another topic of conversation. He’s good at making it look natural— as if another thought had just occurred to him, or as if suddenly interested in conveying something else that he had wanted to say.
But when Ohyul decides to test out the waters, leaning in close whenever he could, cautious, curious, he sees it happen again, and again, like clockwork.
It happens in a way that he doesn’t observe with the other members, where Ryul would often throw an easy arm around them with a laidback grin, no particular meaning associated, other than to indicate that he’s relaxed, happy.
Ohyul seems to get the same treatment too, usually, which should really be the end of it.
But it’s when he gets close— really close, only a breath away, leaning in to whisper something in the other’s ear, or reach for something past him, placing a hand against his wrist to steady himself, that he feels the other freeze up entirely.
He doesn’t understand it. He wants to ask, but he doesn’t know if the other’s even aware of it himself.
Plus, what good would it do for him to understand why?
It’s not like Ryul was nervous because he was in love with him or anything.
Even the idea itself sounds ridiculous to Ohyul, drawing a scoff out of him.
He packs away his notes for the evening, after half an hour of practice in front of the mirror schooling his expression, and heads to bed.
—
He doesn’t know why the thought bothers him so much.
It had been a fleeting thought, a ludicrous idea that had come from absolutely nowhere, and which he had dismissed almost immediately, but it’s stuck in his head now like an annoying tune.
Of course Ryul didn’t see him like that.
Ryul liked girls— talked a lot about them, rapped and sang about them, flirted with them at fansigns, making noises about how he wouldn’t let his girlfriend go out alone with male friends, in a way that’s probably more toxically masculine than he’d approve of, but which he’s more than sure is just fanservice, because in reality Ryul never really cared about anything like that. That, and the fact that he was probably just about the most considerate and patient person that Ohyul’s ever met.
Still, he’s almost undeniably the most Guyest guy he’s ever met, and yeah, he probably shouldn’t stereotype in the way that he is, but he just doesn’t buy it.
So could it be that he was afraid of Ohyul?
But they’d known each other for years, and they had long been past the point that Ryul would be scared of him. If he was, who knows how much Ohyul would spiral, after all the work he had done to move away from that image.
So either Ryul hated him or loved him.
How the hell was he supposed to tell which one?
One evening, after a long day of recordings, the members sit around a dining table, causing ruckus as they chat about their day.
It’s at that moment that he decides, fuck it, he’ll experiment and see how far he can take this hypothesis. He doesn’t even know why he cares enough to find out, but he’s already in too deep to pull out.
“Ryul-ah,” he says quietly.
When the other doesn’t respond immediately, too taken by the ongoing conversation between the younger members, Ohyul leans in closer, persistent.
“Hey. Can you pass me the salt?” he asks, placing a hand on the crook of the younger’s elbow.
Finally registering the words, Ryul glances over briefly.
“Huh? Sure,” he says, before reaching over the table.
As he passes the salt shaker to him, Ohyul takes the opportunity to lean in closer, pressing his arm against the other’s, deliberate, skin warm through the thin fabric.
“Thanks,” he smiles, looking up at the younger, before taking it from him.
Like clockwork, the other freezes at the action, ever so slightly.
His eyes then dart away quickly, before responding with a nonchalant, “Yeah, sure”.
Ohyul lights up at the reaction. He wonders how much further he can push this.
As he turns back to the conversation at the table, he deliberately knocks his knee against the younger’s, before letting it stay there.
The other pauses again, although his face stays completely neutral.
Ohyul feels a slight buzz beneath his skin.
Strangely, teasing Ryul was fun.
Ohyul feels slightly like a bully, but something about it was unfairly addictive.
He leans closer, placing a hand back against Ryul’s arm, and leans in closer to the shell of his ear.
“Ryul-ah, what’re you doing tonight?” he asks lowly.
He feels the other stiffen and draw back, with a questioning look, almost startled.
"What?" the other asks, after a beat too long.
Ohyul smiles at that, before looking up at the other with those eyes that he has most definitely been told before are unfair.
He had always hated how soft his features were, but right now, he felt that they played perfectly to his advantage.
“I have a track I’d like your help on,” he says meaningfully.
The younger looks back at him for a second, frozen in place, before his eyes quickly dart away.
“Yeah, sure. I uh—look forward to it,” Ryul says, before turning back to the table.
“Thanks,” Ohyul says back simply, before patting a hand on the other’s thigh.
He feels the other’s muscle almost jump at the touch, and he has to hold back his laughter.
Was he for real?
He was actually reacting to Ohyul?
What the hell was going on?
He doesn’t know how he’ll explain himself when Ryul eventually comes around and finds out he doesn’t really have a track for him, but he looks forward to it all the same.