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“I really—ah. Yeon Sieun,” Hyuntak breathes out to the cold air around them, between them, hugging their bodies close like an old friend. Sieun is looking up at him with something close to warmth in his eyes and Sieun’s tricks are not tricks, so. “Sieun-ah. I really want to kiss you right now.”
The reaction is almost imperceptible. Sieun’s gaze softens, the muscles on his face still unmoving. He’s looking in the general direction of Hyuntak’s face but—it’s Hyuntak’s lips he focuses on, first, then back to Hyuntak’s eyes. The controlled nature of Yeon Sieun crumbles just a little, just a bit.
There’s a sour aftertaste in his mouth because Hyuntak is no saint. He digs his own grave out of his own volition, “You know I’m not gonna—I won’t. Don’t worry. But you know now that I want to. Okay? I’ve wanted to for a while. You should know that.”
Sieun doesn’t answer verbally; Hyuntak wasn’t expecting him to.
Tilting his head to the side, Sieun reaches for Hyuntak’s hoodie sleeve, not quite tugging but not shoving him away, either. Sieun holds him there for a beat, two. There’s so much depth in his stare. Everything he feels is painfully clear in his eyes. There’s someone else he’s thinking about, Hyuntak knows. There’s a ghost that follows Sieun around like the cold clinging to them now, a thousand times gentler and even more meaningful.
Truthfully, if he’d known about Ahn Suho before, Hyuntak would’ve been more mindful. More careful about searching for this type of warmth from Yeon Sieun out of all people, who now lets Hyuntak get as close as he possibly can without it being considered—well, anything. Hyuntak lets out a breath he did not know he’d been holding, watches as the fingers on his sleeve tighten. Sieun says so much without saying, and his eyes are always searching for a light Hyuntak cannot see. A week or so ago he started calling Hyuntak Tak-ah because of Juntae and the molecular-level rearrangement in Hyuntak’s chest hasn’t yet settled.
“Go inside now, Sieun-ah. I should probably head home, too,” he tries, weak. The line they haven’t yet crossed is one Hyuntak treats with the utmost respect. Whatever Yeon Sieun wants, like a fucking lapdog. Pathetic, Tak-ah, he imagines someone with Sieun’s face and voice telling him. The engines in Sieun’s head run overtime all the time. Maybe he’s learning from Park Humin; maybe Sieun is just like Baku in this. Thinking so hard must be so tiring. Hyuntak has never in his life wished this much for someone else’s mind to quieten; never in his life wished so hard for him to be able to do something about all of the alive, breathing ghosts following Sieun around.
The biting cold reaches for Sieun’s face like a lover. Nose red and scrunched, still clinging to Hyuntak’s sleeve in front of his dorm room as if Juntae isn’t inside waiting for him so they can cuddle and watch that silly anime they’ve been binging together recently. God help Hyuntak, he’s letting his thoughts wander. How soft must Sieun look then, if right now there’s tenderness dripping from his every movement?
“Yah, Yeon Sieun. Stop looking at me like that or I’ll—” There’s a soft pull from where Sieun is still delicately holding him. Because he’s not expecting it, Hyuntak loses his balance a little, bad knee hurting as if it’s making fun of him the way it has for the past five years or so.
Sieun’s lips are freezing when they connect with his cheek in a quick kiss.
“There, Tak-ah,” he says, voice low and unhurried, still so close Hyuntak can smell the cologne on him, the hot of his breath like a slap to the face. Sieun’s hands find support on his shoulder before he tips his head down and lowers himself from his tiptoes. Hyuntak is not even that much taller than Sieun—well. Hyuntak had been trying to ignore just how much taller he is than Sieun but this, now, undoes all of the work he’s put into that. “I should go, really. Juntae is waiting for me. Thank you. For walking me home, and everything else. For your honesty. And—I’m sorry. You should know that, too.”
Hyuntak should’ve known it would be the hardest thing in the world. He should’ve braced for impact sooner rather than later, rather than now, close to midnight, everything he’s ever wanted so far from his reach even though it’s got its hands atop his acromion with a vice-tight grip. Ice princess my ass. Fuck Yeon Sieun for making him remember anatomy, really, and for everything else he’s putting Hyuntak through. The exact cadence of his voice, the huffs of air Hyuntak can now identify as laughter, being the brightest of stars in an otherwise dimly lit sky.
“You’re welcome?” Hyuntak chokes out.
Sieun hums. Smiles the biggest smile Hyuntak has seen from him when they’re alone, a show of teeth that reaches his eyes with no restraint. Was he waiting for Hyuntak to admit it? Sieun is observant, knows things without people having to say them out loud. There is no spelling out the mess of feelings fluttering inside Hyuntak because they have no name, only Sieun’s face, Sieun’s hands on him now, the easy company and conversation and the late nights Hyuntak has spent trying to figure out a different way to tell Sieun You can take from me whatever you want.
“Yah, Go Hyuntak,” Sieun jokes now, an airy quality to his voice Hyuntak attributes to the way he’s sort of smiling, still, “You can be braver than this.”
There’s an alien weight on Hyuntak’s chest that replaces everything else, makes the shitty dorm hallway lights around them brighter, Sieun’s tan face clearer. What else is there he can say? He’s offering himself up for the kill.
Sieun moves away, goes to open the door. “Sleep well, Gotak-ie. I'm sorry again.”
Hyuntak already misses the warmth of him close.
“Sieun-ah, wait,” he surprises himself by saying, watching the brown of Sieun’s eyes carefully before making a decision he doesn’t fully register he’s making—except he does, a little, knows the next words that will leave his mouth way before he says them. Ugly hallway lights paint Sieun’s face a breathtaking thing, a soft, silent surrealism. “You can be selfish with me. You can—you’re allowed to hurt me this way, Sieun-ah. You should know that.”
The deep breath Yeon Sieun takes in front of him almost makes Hyuntak regret it. It gets stuck in Sieun’s throat, a pitiful thing, small like prey, and Hyuntak knows that there is no world in which he doesn’t fall. Sieun’s tricks are not tricks. The calculated, cold act is not an act as much as it is a wall Sieun built brick by brick to keep himself sane. After everything, who wouldn’t?
Hyuntak lets his eyes wander. The sound of the world outside their little bubble hits like an afterthought; a car passing by, someone’s voice getting lost in the wind. Sieun has let his usual almost-scowl drop around him, Juntae and Humin for several months now. It leaves Hyuntak a little too vulnerable, too open, high-strung with want. Trust is a terrifying creature Hyuntak has chosen not to tame, but it’s different for Sieun. “I don’t think I—” he continues, just to fill the silence between them with sound, just to try and make himself clearer as if it’s not written all over his face already. So embarrassing. So warm, Hyuntak thinks. Such a funny feeling, instant loyalty to someone who never asked for it. “You might not believe me, but I’m not leaving any time soon. Juntae and Baku too, Sieunnie. We’re here for good. So. With me, you can be—selfish, I said, right? I guess I’m asking to be let in. You can show me what you’re scared to show anyone else. If you want. That’s what I-,” a cough, two. To cover up the ugliness of it all. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
When their eyes meet again, Sieun’s are—softer. Somehow meaner. Just looking at him has the dormant, possessive monster inside Hyuntak’s belly stir and groan. Whatever you want to do to me, Yeon Sieun, he could say, were he a braver man, you can do. The conversation was always about Ahn Suho before it transformed into a Hyuntak-shaped gaping maw. Everything with Sieun is Ahn Suho. They were sewn together so gruesomely, Hyuntak thought, from the very beginning. Yeon Sieun before Ahn Suho would probably not give anyone the time of day, yet here he was now, almost chest to chest with Hyuntak. Almost happy. Definitely content despite the hole in his chest where love first burrowed itself.
Sieun doesn’t say anything; Hyuntak was not expecting him to. But Sieun’s lips are pulled into something tender like a smile, something uniquely Sieun’s.
He watches Sieun nod once, twice, very slowly, before turning around and pushing in the door code to his dorm. Hyuntak watches as Sieun takes one last look at him before closing the door. He wouldn’t ask for more than this even though he definitely already has.