Work Text:
Reading minds, in Kyungsoo’s experience, is a bit like watching TV. It can take some searching to find the right channel.
The passengers on this morning’s train ride are a mixed bag. There’s a girl on her way to university who’s thinking intently about one of her professors, plotting out the roadmap to an affair in her head. The images are somehow both graphic and vague. Kyungsoo gets the impression she’s never seen a man naked before. From the scenes she’s constructing, he isn’t sure she’s ever dated, either; the plot is straight out of a tacky drama. Still, a nervous sort of excitement colors her fantasies. It would be endearing, maybe, if the subject of the fantasies weren’t a married man.
A few seats down, an aging businessman keeps rereading the same line of text in the newspaper over and over, trying to get it to stick. A flash of frustration over the painkillers clouding his head. He should’ve stayed home today, but couldn’t. Already took too much time off for the surgery. Sad, Kyungsoo thinks, that the company cares so little, that this man thinks himself so replaceable. Kyungsoo would try to reassure him if he could, but. He’s never been good at finding ways to help without revealing things he isn’t supposed to know. Too sincere, maybe. Or not clever enough.
When he was a kid and the power was still new, he tried to will himself to poke back at people’s thoughts somehow and see if he could respond to them. He thought maybe this telepathic link would be like opening a window only he knew was there, and if he tried hard enough he could reach through and grab their attention. Then he grew older and discovered it’s only ever a screen in front of him, each person the narrator of their own personal movie somewhere far away; he can watch all he wants, but no amount of yelling at the television will change the outcome. So he’s left observing, listening in on nonsensical thoughts and feelings he has no context for, most of them more ideas than words but still translating to something coherent in his head. Like how the eyes take in waves of light that become colors and images, maybe, if he understands that right. He doesn’t know the how or why of it, just that it works.
Between sips of burnt coffee, he spots a guy further down the car who looks to be around his age. Golden brown hair. Makeup-perfect complexion. Baseball jacket an annoyingly vibrant blue. Eyes droopy, but not from tiredness. Cute, Kyungsoo thinks absently, because he stopped policing his own thoughts a long time ago and isn’t in the habit of denying obvious truths.
He decides to peek into Cute Guy’s thoughts, and instead of the usual buzz in the back of his head, he feels a sudden pull that leaves him slightly dizzy.
Cute Guy is staring at him now, alarm and confusion all over his face and his thoughts. More with feelings than words, he asks, Who the hell are you?
Kyungsoo is just as baffled. The hairs on his arms stand on end and he shudders, feeling suddenly like he’s been submerged in ice water. This has never happened before. He’s torn between excitement and sheer panic. His grip on the cup of coffee tightens, warping it slightly.
He knows his every thought is going straight to Cute Guy’s own head; there’s a faint echo as it’s all processed and mulled over.
I’ve never seen you on this train before, Kyungsoo thinks. I’d recognize you.
New job, Cute Guy replies. Images of a bookstore Kyungsoo thinks he’s been to. I’m Baekhyun.
Kyungsoo.
You think I’m cute?
Um.
Kyungsoo reddens, offers a nervous half-smile and backs quickly out of Baekhyun’s head, the almost tangible connection between them growing slack, then fading away. Baekhyun is still staring at him, head tilted to the side, a tiny smile curling at his lips.
The insistent tug is back. Baekhyun sounds—no, feels intrigued. Unwilling to let this go. Kyungsoo might be, too, except… it’s a lot, isn’t it? Too much to try to accept all at once. He thinks so, at least. Baekhyun doesn’t. Kyungsoo gets the feeling this won’t be the last thing they disagree on.
His stop comes before Baekhyun’s. He gets off the train just behind the fantasizing girl—same university, different destinations, thankfully. The psychic link breaks as the train pulls away, and all they can do is let it.
--
How long for you? Baekhyun asks the next day.
Since I was seven. Memories of his mom looking at him with concern, her lips not moving despite the streams of worried ramblings he knows are coming from her, even if they don’t match her voice. You?
Same. Sitting at the table for dinner, pretending he doesn’t know his father is having an affair, too afraid to explain how he found out. Staying home from school for days, then weeks, feigning sickness and crying himself hoarse. The memories are quickly pushed aside as Baekhyun frowns. And you’ve never met any others, either?
No.
I wonder if there are more of us, Baekhyun thinks. I always thought it was just me. But with you here—do you think we should look? Try to find them?
Does it matter if there are others? Kyungsoo asks.
Maybe not. I dunno. Maybe it’s enough knowing I’m not alone. Baekhyun offers up a friendly grin. Anyway, we still have to get to know each other before we do anything else, I guess.
What makes you think I’m worth knowing? Or that you can trust me?
We’re in each other’s heads. Nowhere to hide, right?
It’s too soon to tell if Baekhyun is just naïve, or somehow even better at reading people than their power should allow. Or maybe he’s just stupid. Kyungsoo meets Baekhyun’s smiling eyes and tries his best to look as unimpressed as his thoughts say he is. Pretty people are often a little dim, he reasons. They can afford to be.
At least you think I’m pretty, Baekhyun thinks.
It wasn’t a compliment, Kyungsoo thinks insistently, even though Baekhyun already knows Kyungsoo finds him attractive. His ears suddenly feel hot.
You’re pretty, too, you know, Baekhyun thinks. He doesn’t try to make excuses or hide away in embarrassment at the admission. Then, If we met at a club, I’d probably try to pick you up.
Is that something you do often?
Not often. Just sometimes. Puzzling out whether people are attracted to him and how much, finding just the right things to say. There’s very little risk involved when he knows beforehand if he’s going to be rejected. If dating is a game, it’s one that Baekhyun is winning.
You don’t date, Baekhyun notes, staring with rapt fascination. Like Kyungsoo is an incredibly interesting specimen being examined under a microscope. It makes Kyungsoo bristle defensively.
I date. Sometimes. I just don’t do relationships. It’s too complicated.
He doesn’t mean to show Baekhyun his high school girlfriend or think about the trepidation in her voice as she accused him of being obsessed. He had been obsessed. And paranoid, and clingy, and. Just too eager to know everything about her, letting himself creep into her head when he shouldn’t, finding out things he wasn’t supposed to, fixating. A victim of temptation. He doesn’t really know how to be casual about people, not when he has the power to listen in on everything that pops into their head.
I don’t give myself the opportunity to get too attached, either, Baekhyun thinks. I always feel weird about how much I know about them and how little they know about me. It’s not an equal exchange. I don’t think you can have a genuine relationship like that. Maybe it’d be different if they could hear what I was thinking, too. I’ve always liked that idea.
Kyungsoo, private as he is, has never felt that way. He’s a hypocrite, and knows he wouldn’t want anyone to do to him what he does to those around him every day. In fact, if it had been Baekhyun who’d tried to read his mind first rather than the other way around, Kyungsoo knows he would’ve been terrified by the notion of someone trying to listen in on his thoughts. On some level, it scares him a little anyway.
Baekhyun apologizes, asks if he should leave. They’re both surprised by how much Kyungsoo doesn’t want him to.
It’s nice, knowing someone who understands, he thinks. I don’t feel like a freak anymore.
We’re still freaks, Baekhyun thinks, amused. We’re just freaks together.
--
A week after their first meeting, Baekhyun boards the train with a bright smile and pink, pink hair. He sits reasonably far from Kyungsoo, but makes sure they’re in each other’s line of sight. They’re trying to keep some kind of distance between them still. Or maybe that’s just Kyungsoo.
Your job lets you have pink hair? Kyungsoo wonders.
No idea, Baekhyun thinks. But I’m not worried. My boss is cool. He probably won’t fire me.
I’m amazed and awed by how much of an idiot you are. Still, Kyungsoo is marginally concerned. He hopes Baekhyun doesn’t get fired just because of his stupid hair choices. Then the guy would be unemployed, and Kyungsoo would be alone on the train again.
That was almost unselfish, until you made it about yourself, Baekhyun thinks. You really don’t have to be worried, though. Even if I do get fired—which I won’t!—I’ll still get on this stupid train every day and follow you around.
You’re hard to get rid of, aren’t you.
Yeah. I think you like that, though.
In a weird way, maybe he does. He’s already a little fond of Baekhyun, against his better judgment. They could be friends, if Kyungsoo had time for more friends at the moment.
You’re busy a lot, Baekhyun observes.
Consequence of graduate school. A consistent schedule at least keeps me sane.
Are you happy about what you do? Is it worth the effort?
Yes. Maybe. He wonders, sometimes, if it’s selfish of him to dream of something silly like opening a café when he has this strange superhuman power that he could use to help people, if he bothered to try. He could work with the police, or as a psychiatrist, or a translator. He dreamt of being a superhero when he was younger, using his ability to save people and thwart all kinds of evil. A dream that died when he realized he was just a kid who didn’t want to put his own life on the line.
I still want to be a superhero, Baekhyun thinks. Never grew out of it, I guess. I practiced hapkido for nine years to prepare. Third dan black belt.
That’s kind of amazing, Kyungsoo thinks. Baekhyun hadn’t struck him as the type to have the discipline for martial arts. But nine years makes it more than some passing hobby.
Not really. It’s just part of a silly dream. I always told myself I’d find a cool name and get a costume, and once I had enough money I’d be good to go. And being alone would be like a noble thing, and not just sad, right? That’s what I always thought. It would be a sacrifice and not just… what it is.
Kyungsoo flounders a little, helpless and uncertain. I don’t think it’s silly to want to save people. Or to feel alone. I’m the same. He sucks in his lower lip. I hate it, too. The isolation. Not knowing how to be useful. I wish I were allowed to want normal things without feeling bad about it.
Of course you’re allowed to. But why would you?
Kyungsoo frowns. Normal people can have relationships without feeling like an intruder.
But what if they let you in by choice? I would. I do.
Just then, the connection breaks. Baekhyun freezes, then turns to stare out the window, drumming his fingers anxiously on his knee. Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.
--
A lazy morning. Kyungsoo’s been keeping to himself, idly daydreaming and doing his best not to waste energy thinking about anything in particular. He feels a sudden tug at the back of his head. The intrusion is unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
I meant it, you know. I do want to let you in.
Kyungsoo shifts in his seat. He can’t look at Baekhyun, because it’s—he doesn’t know what to say to something like this. They don’t know each other, not really. Bits and pieces here and there, sure, but it’s not the same as really knowing a person—it’s just intellectual awareness of facts. So Kyungsoo stares, with red ears and fidgeting hands and a strange feeling in his gut, at the floor of their car. The train continues to rumble through the tunnels, not loud enough to block out the strange silence stretching between them.
Sorry, says Baekhyun. Everything keeps bleeding together. Sometimes I can’t tell who’s thinking what. It feels natural. Nice. It makes me want—something. I don’t know. Sorry.
There’s nothing to apologize for. Kyungsoo just isn’t sure how to react or how to feel. He doesn’t know what to think about Baekhyun wanting him like this, in ways he doesn’t fully understand, ways that Baekhyun doesn’t seem to, either. Or about his own feelings, which might not be so different. They’ve already seen enough of each other’s ugly half-thoughts that either or both of them should have walked away by now, except they haven’t.
This seems like a bad idea, Kyungsoo thinks.
It probably is, Baekhyun agrees.
Well. As long as we both know we’re being stupid.
Aren’t you tired, though? Of feeling lonely?
Of course, but it’s more complicated than that.
Kyungsoo’s stop arrives. He wastes no time in jumping to his feet and hurrying off the train, not bothering to pause or turn around when an unfamiliar voice calls his name.
--
“Hey.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he’s surprised when he looks up and sees Baekhyun smiling down at him. He’s holding a paper cup in each hand, fingers barely poking out from the layers of long sleeves. A scarf hangs loosely around his neck.
Clearing his throat, Kyungsoo says, “Hey,” and tries to offer his own smile in return, but it feels stiff, awkward. He bites back a grimace.
“I brought you coffee,” says Baekhyun. He holds out one of the cups. “You always complain about not having time to get something better than Starbucks.”
“Oh. Um.” Wide-eyed, Kyungsoo takes the drink. “I—thank you. That’s—”
“Okay if I sit?” Before Kyungsoo has a chance to answer, Baekhyun takes the seat next to his, settling down so they’re practically shoulder-to-shoulder.
They’ve never been this close before, and Kyungsoo’s never properly heard Baekhyun’s voice—his real voice, at least. It makes him anxious, this proximity; under the smell of coffee, there’s something warm and clean—like sun-kissed skin in the summer, like freshly-washed clothes—and Kyungsoo is afraid of how that soft, pretty smell makes his heart feel. He’s afraid of the wool of Baekhyun’s coat and how it brushed against him when the man sat down, sending a jolt of electricity through his nerves. He’s afraid of Baekhyun’s smile and the way his voice is just slightly lazy and rough but colored with laughter. Afraid of how much he likes Baekhyun’s bright pink hair. Afraid of how Baekhyun feels.
He almost panics over his own terrified thoughts before realizing Baekhyun isn’t there in his head. Just sitting next to him, wearing a bright grin that turns his eyes into little crescents.
Baekhyun laughs. “You can stop looking so freaked out,” he says. “I just wanted to talk. With words,” he adds, as if the clarification is necessary. It might be. He laughs again. “You’re really cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”
Kyungsoo feels a deep flush bloom across his face. He turns away and takes a sip of his coffee. The fact that it tastes as good as it does just makes him even more distressed.
“What—” Lost and faintly dazed, Kyungsoo searches around for the words he wants. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I didn’t have anything specific in mind. Just wanted to talk. Get to know each other.” He switches his own cup of coffee to his other hand, and the one closer to Kyungsoo shifts over toward his side, knuckles resting against the edge of Kyungsoo’s coat. Not committing to making a move yet. Just waiting. “What’s something I don’t know about you, Do Kyungsoo?”
There should be so many obvious answers to this, but Kyungsoo can’t think of a single one. He frowns. “I… don’t know. That’s a little broad, isn’t it?”
Baekhyun hums, thoughtful. “Favorite movie?” he asks.
“Ahh, umm, I don’t really have one, honestly,” says Kyungsoo, feeling weirdly self-conscious about his non-answer. “I like a lot of movies. It would take a while to list them.”
“We’ve got time,” says Baekhyun.
The moment Kyungsoo finally looks back at him and meets his gaze, Baekhyun winks, reaches out and touches his fingers to the back of Kyungsoo’s hand. Kyungsoo hesitates at first, but after a moment he turns his hand palm-up where it rests on his leg. Baekhyun’s fingers thread smoothly with his, tickling against his thigh. Kyungsoo’s heart hammers furiously against his ribs as he glances down.
Baekhyun’s hand is warm, the skin smooth and soft. Long and elegant fingers that look more fragile than they feel. It makes Kyungsoo’s hand, small and awkwardly-shaped with bitten-down nails, look ugly in comparison. The nervous sweat from his palm is probably making everything disgusting and unpleasant. He looks back up at Baekhyun with an apology on the tip of his tongue.
Except Baekhyun doesn’t seem bothered. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks, too, pink like his hair. His bright grin is doing strange and indescribable things to Kyungsoo’s insides. Kyungsoo finds himself smiling back, the slightest bit shy and uncertain.
“Talk to me about movies,” says Baekhyun. “I promise I’ll listen and not just sit here smiling like an idiot because a cute guy’s holding my hand.”
Kyungsoo stares, wets his dry lips nervously with his tongue, and nods.
For the rest of the train ride, he drinks coffee and rambles about movies, because it’s easier than thinking about Baekhyun’s hand in his. It quickly turns into a list of directors, but not an exhaustive one. Baekhyun’s fingers keep touching his knuckles, softly, and Kyungsoo has to stop every so often to smile and blush and quickly look away, like some shy little kid. Baekhyun laughs every time.
When they get to Kyungsoo’s stop, Baekhyun squeezes his hand one last time, and Kyungsoo wavers, not sure if he really wants to leave. He has a class to tutor for, he knows, but. That doesn’t seem important right now.
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Baekhyun says softly, like he knows.
Kyungsoo bites his lip, smiles a little anxiously. “Right. See you.”
People comment for the entire rest of the day on his unusually cheerful mood. During their study session, Jongdae goes as far as to ask (only kind of jokingly) if he got laid, erupting in too-loud laughter when Kyungsoo goes bright red and vehemently denies it.
Nice to see him happy for once, Jongdae thinks.
It comes as a surprise, because Kyungsoo wouldn’t have said previously that he was unhappy. But maybe he was. And maybe he can keep being happy… with Baekhyun.
Maybe.
--
“—and they’re not just about sports, you know? If anything, the sports are just a different means of illustrating the same messages and dynamics you see in other genres, except they can focus more on teamwork and personal growth in an organic—why are you looking at me like that?”
Baekhyun grins. “You’re really opinionated about anime,” he says.
“Oh.” Kyungsoo chuckles sheepishly. “I guess? We could talk about something else if you’re bored.”
“No, no, I like hearing you talk about things you care about. It’s cute.”
Kyungsoo huffs. “Is that the only compliment you know?”
“The only one I can say in mixed company.” Baekhyun waggles his eyebrows. Kyungsoo scoffs. “But no, really, keep talking about sports anime.”
“Why don’t you talk instead? You always make me carry the conversation,” says Kyungsoo.
“I like hearing your voice,” says Baekhyun. “You wouldn’t deprive me of that, would you? That would be so cruel.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Besides, people tell me all the time that I talk too much. I’m doing you a favor.”
Kyungsoo clucks his tongue reprovingly. “Have you considered I might want to hear your voice, too?” he says. “How selfish.”
“You know, if I had your number, I’d be happy to talk your ear off whenever you want,” Baekhyun says with a grin. He digs his phone out of his pocket and holds it out.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and takes it, replacing it with his own phone. When he gets his back, he finds Baekhyunnie ♡ added to his contacts. He smiles at it fondly.
“Just as a fair warning, I’ll probably text you a lot,” says Baekhyun. “You’ll be ready to kill me by the end of the day.”
“I have a boring lecture and an afternoon in the university library ahead of me,” says Kyungsoo. “I’ll probably be glad for the distraction.”
Despite that, he worries that he will be annoyed with Baekhyun; that Baekhyun’s texts will be as unfiltered and shameless as the things he sometimes says and thinks, and that they’ll be constant and terrible and riddled with misspellings. But the first message doesn’t come until a bit before lunch.
I’ve spent the past few hours trying to work up the nerve to text you, it reads, followed by a bunch of crying faces.
Kyungsoo stares open-mouthed at the text. He texts back with, Really?
Baekhyun’s response is a defensive I didn’t know what to say!
That’s new.
You’re intimidating, okay. It’s not the first time someone’s said that to Kyungsoo, but it’s definitely the silliest.
It’s just funny that me reading your mind is fine, but a text makes you nervous, he replies.
That’s different. Cut me some slack, I never claimed to be smooth. More crying faces.
Kyungsoo takes a moment to think about his reply. First: Look, if it’s any consolation… you suddenly being all shy is kind of endearing. Then he adds, I don’t get why someone like me would have that effect on you, but. It’s sweet.
There’s nothing for a while. Kyungsoo grabs lunch and stops pretending to be productive, even though he’s a bit behind on one of his projects and really shouldn’t be dicking around like this. Something about Baekhyun has him making up excuses, justifying his laziness with nonsense that shouldn’t be acceptable but somehow is.
The response comes after a long wait, well after he’s finished lunch and run out of reasons not to work on this paper. The first couple of texts are just nervous but genuine reassurances, telling him not to sell himself short, followed by, Does it bother you though that I like you this much? Then, I don’t want to scare you off by coming on too strong…
Kyungsoo finds himself trying to hide a smile, though he isn’t sure why. His insides are in knots. He texts back, It doesn’t. You’ve probably noticed I like you, too. More than I should after just a few weeks.
A lot can happen in a few weeks!! Then, I don’t think it’s that weird. Then, Okay okay I gotta work now. But I promise I’ll be thinking about you the whole time I’m shelving books~ ♡
The last message makes Kyungsoo feel inexplicably flustered. He grins stupidly at his phone for a moment, then tries to school his expression into something more neutral, more appropriate for the incredibly serious and important task of studying, during which he should not be suppressing the urge to giggle or sigh fondly over handsome and flirtatious people and their dumb little heart symbols.
He fails.
--
“You can have my shoulder,” Baekhyun murmurs.
Kyungsoo stares at him groggily, squinting in confusion.
“To sleep on,” says Baekhyun. “Just for a little bit. You look so tired it’s hurting my soul.”
Kyungsoo almost argues with him, but his inherent awkwardness as a person and sense of stubbornness is no match for his sheer exhaustion. He scoots over and instantly finds Baekhyun’s arm wrapped around him, pulling him right against Baekhyun’s shoulder where he lets his head fall heavily. That bright summer scent washes over him, even though it’s the middle of winter and Baekhyun has no right to smell so warm. Kyungsoo closes his eyes and breathes it in deeply. It makes him that much sleepier.
“You smell nice,” he murmurs, already half-asleep. “Can’t I just stay here and use you as a pillow instead of learning things and being productive?”
Baekhyun’s frame shakes with laughter. “If you wanna sleep with me, you’ll have to buy me dinner first,” he says.
“Stupid,” Kyungsoo grumbles. He’s too far gone to hear Baekhyun’s reply after that.
Sometime later, he feels himself being shaken lightly. Someone keeps saying his name. He opens his eyes, squinting against the light. It takes him one disorienting second to remember where he is. He straightens in his seat. Baekhyun’s arm is still around him.
“How long was I out?” he asks, yawning. “Where are we?”
“Um. Bad news,” says Baekhyun. “I tried to wake you up, but you were, like, dead asleep. Missed your stop. And, uh, mine just now.”
Kyungsoo immediately feels wide awake. “What? You’re—are you shitting me?”
Baekhyun winces, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I really did try. But you kept sleeping, and you looked really comfortable. And.” He shrugs. You were having nice dreams, he thinks.
He withdraws his arm from around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, but Kyungsoo reaches out and takes his hand. The guilty, repentant look on Baekhyun’s face makes it impossible for Kyungsoo to be annoyed with him—especially since he would’ve been miserable in class, and can probably afford to miss just one lecture. He stayed up all night so he could submit his paper online anyway. Baekhyun softens at this.
What was I dreaming about? Kyungsoo asks.
Me, Baekhyun thinks, his hesitation implying an unexpected shyness.
Oh, Kyungsoo thinks. I guess those would be nice dreams, then.
Baekhyun beams at him, brushes hair from Kyungsoo’s forehead, the gesture almost too intimate. In his tired state, Kyungsoo finds himself leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering closed again.
“Hey,” says Baekhyun, “since we’re already running late, how about we just skip everything and go on a date instead?”
“I’m—” Kyungsoo yawns again. “I wish I could, but I’m too tired.”
“Didn’t you say something about wanting to sleep together?” Baekhyun says, snickering. “This could be your chance.”
“Hilarious.”
“I know. Seriously though, I do have a pretty nice bed.” He lowers his voice and leans in, nose brushing Kyungsoo’s ear. “I bet it’s covered with that smell you seem to like so much, too.”
Kyungsoo gives him an unimpressed look. “I’m not sleeping in your bed, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun shrugs, backing away again. “Your loss. I’m a great cuddler.”
At the next station, they get off the train and wait for one to take them back the way they came from, their hands still locked together. Kyungsoo can’t help leaning into Baekhyun’s side—partly from lack of energy, but largely a desire to stay as close to him as possible.
You’re affectionate when you’re tired, Baekhyun thinks. It’s nice. I like tired Kyungsoo.
I like you all the time, Kyungsoo replies, too tired and too honest. Kind of a lot.
Baekhyun turns quickly to look at him, mouth hanging open slightly and a lost, helpless look in his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly.
And Kyungsoo wants him to, so much he aches a little. But not here. Not now. Not this train station, not when he’s so exhausted he can barely stand on his own. He just shakes his head, moves in front of Baekhyun to wrap his arms around his middle and pull him into a clumsy embrace. Presses his face to Baekhyun’s neck, mouth touching skin in what can barely be called a kiss. In return, Baekhyun holds him tightly, so secure Kyungsoo thinks he could hold both of them up right now if he had to. But Kyungsoo won’t make him—won’t let him. Not yet, anyway.
Sorry, Kyungsoo thinks. Without meaning to, because thoughts are dangerous things, he goes on to think, I want you so badly, Baekhyun. But not now.
The response is a steady hum of It’s fine I don’t mind we can stay like this I don’t care. Contentment. Joy. Kyungsoo’s own tired heart is hammering in his chest.
They board the next train reluctantly, still clinging tightly to each other. Strangers on the train eye them critically, but Kyungsoo doesn’t care. Not anymore.
--
What are we, Kyungsoo?
Kyungsoo shoots him a sideways look. At this point, they’ve gotten the hang of how to articulate themselves clearly, how to ignore each other’s wandering thoughts and only pay attention to the more purposeful ones. I don’t know. Hadn’t really thought about it.
What do you want to be?
I don’t know, Kyungsoo tells him. Not specifically. I’d like to be with you. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know if we’re good for each other, being the way we are.
Baekhyun looks crestfallen, eyebrows pulling up at the inner corners and mouth falling open. Eyes lined with sadness. Kyungsoo immediately backpedals. But I always assume the worst. It doesn’t have to stop us. It doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t it? I don’t want to push you.
You’re not. I might be scared, but I want this as much as you do. And we can try to turn it off, can’t we? We can live like normal people and be a normal couple.
We could, Baekhyun thinks.
But you don’t want that, Kyungsoo realizes.
No. I don’t.
Why?
I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not when I don’t have to. I don’t want to play at being normal. We’re not normal. You make me… feel okay about that.
You’ll hear things you don’t want to, Kyungsoo thinks. Ugly things. And I might actually mean them. Or I’ll get too clingy and irritating and I’ll never leave you alone, and eventually you’ll get tired of me smothering you. Tired of me in general.
Maybe, Baekhyun thinks. Anything could happen. That’s just what a relationship is.
Yeah, Kyungsoo thinks. I guess it is.
This time it’s Baekhyun’s thoughts that betray him: I love you.
Kyungsoo blinks, surprised. He turns to face Baekhyun, who’s gone stiff in his seat. It’s not like it was a secret, necessarily, but there was something safe in him not having said it in so many words. A plausible deniability of sorts. The admission isn’t shocking by any means. Kyungsoo just didn’t expect it to happen at this very second.
The link between them is broken, a visibly embarrassed Baekhyun retreating into his own mind. Kyungsoo sighs.
“Baekhyun,” he says. When Baekhyun doesn’t look at him, he says, a bit softer, “Baekhyunnie.”
The shyness in Baekhyun’s eyes when he finally looks over makes Kyungsoo feel weak with overwhelming fondness. He smiles, leans in and quickly presses his lips to Baekhyun’s cheek, right by the corner of his mouth.
Baekhyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, doesn’t even move, just sits there gaping confusedly. His face starts to redden, and he lets out the most ridiculous giggle and ducks down against the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck. Kyungsoo laughs.
“I’ll never get used to this,” Baekhyun complains, like he isn’t wearing a face-splitting grin. “Everything you do is too cute, you know that? Bet it’s bad for my blood pressure.”
“You would probably die if I actually kissed you, then,” says Kyungsoo.
“That’s an interesting theory, we should test it out right now.”
Kyungsoo laughs again. He combs his fingers through Baekhyun’s (soft, fluffy, bubblegum-pink) hair gently, hand lingering at the nape of his neck. Baekhyun reaches up with his own hand and presses Kyungsoo’s palm against his skin, holding him there.
“I’m willing to try,” Kyungsoo murmurs. “To make things work, I mean.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we’re boyfriends?”
“Yeah. Um. If you want.” Kyungsoo clears his throat. People are staring, you know.
Good. I hope they’re all mad that they don’t have boyfriends as adorable as you.
I’m sure they are.
They’re silent for a moment, comfortably so. The inside of Baekhyun’s mind is less chaos than usual. It’s quiet, content. And the sensation of sharing minds is no longer such a strange thing anymore. Less of an intrusion and more like… home. In a way, that’s all Kyungsoo thinks he’s wanted all this time: for all of this to feel right, natural, good. Because goodness is Baekhyun’s warm skin, his fingers drawing circles on Kyungsoo’s hand, his lips dry on Kyungsoo’s neck and thoughts full of love.
Then Baekhyun says, So I think we should really look into finding out more about this whole mind-reading thing.
Why is that?
The connection breaks again. Baekhyun straightens a little in his seat, facing forward again, fingers curled around Kyungsoo’s hand as he brings it down to rest on both of their thighs. He looks forward at the window opposite them for a moment, expression thoughtful.
Baekhyun?
Baekhyun glances at him sideways with a wry grin.
I found out when I was jerking off last night that I might have developed telekinesis, he thinks.
Kyungsoo stares, speechless.
Baekhyun’s grin widens. Like I said. We should probably figure some shit out.