Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jungwon doesn't hear anything but a light hiss. Continuous, unending.

His eyes are closed, but each hiss makes his mind unveil precise lines--intricate ones, curated to perfection, made from gliding over frozen crystal. A flight over ice. 

He's not one who can mark a surface like that, tracing it with excellence instead of amateur attempts at scribbles–he can’t. He knows. But Jungwon's seen it being carved time and time again by someone who can. So it' enough to let his mind replay it. 

The rink is cold, it is not the wisest idea for him to be sitting at its borders with just a hoodie on, knees to his chest, arms folded over them, a long padded jacket that's not his resting over them while his own is discarded somewhere--but he thinks this is the closest he can be to it. To him. To Sunghoon.

Jungwon hears each of his strides with utmost attention, and he wishes he could see it, but his eyes are tired after endless nights of studying so he had to allow himself at least a few minutes of rest. 

Just a few, he thinks, just a little bit .

He could have gone back to his place, to his room and just call it a day--but this was the only time that had worked for him to be here, at the rink. The only moment available in between all the erratic haze from exams and the fast paced nature of their misaligned schedules. Time had decided to be at least a little benevolent–Jungwon wasn’t going to say no.

Not when it calms him. When it's soothing. Reassuring.

The sound of each stroke, the amped up pace as he glides. Jungwon has the image of Sunghoon far too engraved in his mind to not be able to see him even with his eyes closed. 

But Jungwon knows that when he gets to see Sunghoon this time, it’s going to feel different. All the same shades, but a little tweak in how vivid the hues are now.

The frozen air is biting at his skin a bit, it makes exhaustion cling to his shoulders, an attempt at making him drift away from the rink–replacing the white in his mind for a temporary veil of rest. But Jungwon can’t help it, that all this makes his heart calm down. The hissing, shorter, lengthier, louder. Closer. 

“Are you still awake, Jungwonie?” 

“ Yeaaah ” he says, stretching the word a little bit to mask the yawn that threatens to take over.

“We can go home.” Sunghoon’s volume goes up a bit, his voice ricocheting in different directions–but the walls of the establishment aim it back at Jungwon, and awareness is infused into his system

“No, don’t worry I’m here, I’m still awake.”

And he is , because the prospect of going home now injected a rush of panic that made his sleepiness dissipate–he’s not losing this chance. Not to weariness. Not to the repercussions of weeks of white nights.

“I can stop, Jungwon-ah.”

“Hyung no–”

When Jungwon opens his eyes, it’s a blinding white all over what greets him. Empty. The blades of Sunghoon’s skates silent, not even a murmur.

Jungwon tilts his head, confusion trying to soil the moment, ink stains on a canvas named certainty. He hopes that Sunghoon hasn’t used the exit farthest from him to leave the rink–the thought haunts him in a silly way, because he knows Sunghoon wouldn’t do that without telling him first. It’s a silly and stupid phantom made out of white covers, nothing to be scared of. But his tired mind makes him wonder if he should have just not let it show, exhaustion, and somehow–the ghosts feel a little more real.

He clutches the fabric of his black joggers for a second before interlacing his fingers–he flinches a bit, his own touch gelid even to himself, Sunghoon’s jacket not having been of much help to warm his hands. Jungwon scans the area for as much as his vision allows, “Hyung, we don’t have to leave!” 

The response surfaces fast, quick strides, more carved lines–this one time, in response to his call. 

Sunghoon makes magic show up in the rink, that’s something Jungwon knows full well. Park Sunghoon, blades against a crystalized terrain is magic in itself, but he materializes in front of Jungwon as if he was made of enchantments and diamond flakes.

And Jungwon stares in awe, at his denim cladded figure, at the human version of a spell, like he always has–head slightly up, pupils widening. Sunghoon tattooes his image in Jungwon’s irises–his name remaining written all over Jungwon’s vocal chords. His silly worries silenced, “I thought you left.”

“Not without you,” Sunghoon responds, “not until we are forced to.”

The grin that forms in his lips is inevitable, same as the warmth that sprinkles over his cheeks–he hopes it doesn’t highlight him too much, “You want us to stay until closing time?”

Sunghoon folds his arms over his middle, “It’s a date, isn’t it?” 

Jungwon nods. A date between him and Sunghoon, a small moment cut for them until they can see each other properly once responsibilities diminish. 

Date . The word is said like a fact, because that is exactly what this is–because it is the reason Jungwon is here and made himself be here against all odds, sleep be damned . He can run on less than four hours of rest daily, has functioned on way less–but he doesn’t think he can’t help the restlessness that has overcome him for a week. 

It’s brand new, but he doesn’t think he can be apart from Sunghoon that much longer. His hushed clinging asks him to turn the volume up a bit.

It comes with the changes. 

That's right , it’s been a week since all, everything, changed. Since they changed, an upgrade. 

A week since Sunghoon is more than just his longtime friend.

The way it unfolded still baffles Jungwon–how Sunghoon became his boyfriend right before midterms started. In the middle of all-nighters, imminent stress, Sunghoon’s training–all so hectic and sudden that it simply happened. A snapshot of what respite could be, as if the inevitability of it had already been engraved in a film that was only waiting to be developed. Just like how Sunghoon has left his name carved in this place. 

It took a simple fall.

(‘come on, you try’ ‘hyung–you know I will trip’ ‘no you won’t, you are with me–’)  

Perhaps they had already been falling–falling far too much prior to colliding with frozen white. That was what disintegrated whatever doubt or second thought, a freezing bite at Jungwon’s heart–and there he was, his heart pierced by ice shards and rosy hues pouring from his ribcage and tinting the rink beneath him. Seeing the tones reflecting against Sunghoon’s skin. To then,  finding himself drinking them in from his lips before registering everything.

It simply happened. But life–midterms happened too.

So this is the date they get after a week of not really seeing each other. The same rink, the same hour–Jungwon’s backpack, the sole observer judging him for putting responsibilities aside, however. Jungwon’s got his eye on this week’s ultimate goal, but his heart feels the novelty–its sight is set on Sunghoon.

And when Sunghoon smiles, eyes all crescents, like moonlight had fallen underneath his eyelashes–transparent, real, it eases Jungwon’s mind. It’s a date . He was not going to lose the chance to see his hyung-now-boyfriend like this.

“Hyung,” Jungwon says, “can you do that thing again? The thing with the ice?”

And Sunghoon smiles wider, fondness making his lips curve–unable to say no. Because it only takes Jungwon to ask, a simple request falling from his lips and it makes Sunghoon take off. 

The ice rink akin to moonstone, sliced by the blade of his skates to give it the shape Jungwon’s request asks of. 

Sunghoon responds accordingly, as though he had been asked to bring a shard of the moon to Jungwon’s feet–and with a smile rivaling its bright, he does it eagerly, strides rapid, strong. Cutting those shards just for Jungwon, the pace so volatile, the halt in one go–and it’s so effective that Sunghoon makes lunar dust explode.

Jungwon stares at the particles. The way they raise, an iridescent flare, a cosmic burst, and how they now fall–a downpour of miniscule opals.

And Sunghoon beneath them. Looking at him, all fond.

“It’s always so cool when you do that.” 

“Oh I know.” Sunghoon responds–confidence as his see-through mask, but Jungwon sees the sheepishness in his mannerisms. Compliments from him always make Sunghoon’s heart go–it just took Jungwon a while to pick up on that. But now that he has, he can’t help but feel delight in knowing he can have that effect. Magic of his own.

“You are so cool, really.”

Sunghoon bites on his lip, half abashed, half to bring himself back to the moment. And he closes the distance between them, breaking through the remaining particles in the air.

Jungwon sees him, the contrast, the dark wash denim, attire, his locks that are falling over his eyes–he wants to fix that, but he can’t bring himself to stand up, not on his own. And because if he does, Sunghoon is going to drag him into the rink–and he isn’t sure if another fall is an ideal thing to happen.

Not that he doesn’t want to be close to Sunghoon, but he has exams, he can’t afford to break any limbs yet.

“You are all bundled up there,” Sunghoon says, “that’s cute, like a curled up kitten.”

“I am a human though.”

Sunghoon pouts for a second before taking in the glint in Jungwon’s eyes–and then he laughs. And Jungwon simply allows him that. There’s no stopping his antics–much less now that he is his boyfriend. 

“You should get moving now though,” Sunghoon suggests, tilting his head to the side, his eyes not leaving Jungwon, “You have been sitting there for a while and I don’t want you to freeze there.”

A hand is extended, and Jungwon considers actually standing–but he isn’t sure how numb his body is, if it will be any graceful for him to even try to move. Or if it would look like he is just a simple bird trying to take flight for the first time, and he is about to fall against the most breathtaking swan in the lake. 

So Jungwon shakes his head, trying to keep Sunghoon’s image into consideration. His mind is quick to concoct the perfect excuses, a mix made out of teasing and pure wit but also sprinkled with bits of truth, “Hyung, I actually take the cold better than you.” 

It’s an open challenge, one that makes Sunghoon’s lips agape before he accepts it.

Sunghoon frowns, in faux offense, just to indulge Jungwon and connect to his frequency, “That’s a lie,”  he says, “I have been in this rink for so long, of course I take the cold better.”

Sunghoon’s competitive, and it shines in the way his last words have that characteristic coat of confidence. ‘I take the cold better’ , because he is royalty in this place, of course , and his realm can’t crack because of Jungwon’s facts.

The stretched out hand before him remains in place, Jungwon stares at it, "Do you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, “Because the other day I saw you shivering." 

A blink, two , Sunghoon’s lost, a little disoriented, behind a foggy layer made of thin ice that distorts Jungwon’s image for some seconds, "Eh?" 

"A week ago."

It takes him a few to grasp what Jungwon is implying, but when he does, that thin layer tints in carmine and it melts and melts, the same hues spreading over his neck. Sunghoon coughs. There is no lie, an ice prince shivering, melting, his realm shaken. 

Sunghoon rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting all over the place before they fall on Jungwon once more, “Not true, I–” but his words tremble for just a few seconds, the corners of his lips lift up. The images flooding him.

And they hit Jungwon too, multiple arrows at the heart, the downpour of blush oozing from them both. And it must be replaying their memories all over the rink, crystallized cinema made of first love.  

Jungwon is the one to break the noiseless atmosphere, a single ‘hyung’ putting an end to the pause–but it’s Sunghoon who stops the stillness and sets things into motion. Today’s episode resumed. He takes a step forward, leaning over to the point that he is at arm’s length, his hand outstretched once more, “Come here.” 

Sunghoon’s face is closer now, his eyes fixed on Jungwon, an almost imperceptible quiver on his lips–and it does that thing to his heart.

The only way to not succumb, is to also make Sunghoon’s heart go.

Jungwon reaches for Sunghoon also, bypassing the hand that is offered to him–his neck becomes Jungwon’s target. The touches are quick, fingertips briefly gracing the side of Sunghoon’s neck, frozen glitter dusted over his skin.

Sunghoon shivers, unable to prevent the way his body jolts, unable to not look at the glimmer in Jungwon’s irises at his reaction, “Wonie, don’t tease.”

His eyes get brighter at the words, a little film of mischief, a little touch of stars, the only onyx in the place. Jungwon takes his chance, “You take the cold better, right? Um ?”

He doesn’t stop.

Not the increasing teasing, or the laughter that bubbles within him and fills the place to the brim when it bursts. And suddenly it’s not a chilly night in the middle of their midterms week, but spring captured in a translucent gemstone box. 

And Sunghoon–he is unable to prevent the little gasps that escape his lips, the puffs of breath that hide Jungwon’s name, the way he falls more and more. Until he can’t stop, and lets it out, “Yang Jungwon!” 

Breathless. Intercepted. Powerless to put this on hold.

The shivers that Jungwon’s fingertips leave are unending and though Sunghoon tries to escape–he easily is pulled back to Jungwon’s sphere. Recoiling away a minute, and somehow his body seeking for Jungwon’s touch the next.

He manages to hold both of Jungwon’s wrists in his grasp, Jungwon tries not to flinch at the touch, not to escape from that direct bite. It doesn’t linger on his wrists too much, because Sunghoon then lets one of his knees make contact with the ice, and though the discomfort the cold causes is evident–he interlocks his fingers with Jungwon’s. 

He breathes out, his laughter dying before he brings one of Jungwon’s hands close to his lips, words brush against Jungwon’s skin, “Kitten,”  and there’s a flare coloured in rose that takes over Jungwon, a type of hue that doesn’t come from the cold, or his own natural tinted cheeks.

“Kitten…” Sunghoon whispers again, and Jungwon feels feverish all of a sudden, goosebumps, a wave of them, “don’t tease–it’s cold…” 

Jungwon wonders if the rink is trembling, if it’s his body that does–if the somersaults come from within. If it’s exhaustion, or the novelty.

If it will pass as the days go, or if Sunghoon makes more than this rink explode in fragments–but his heart too, ruby, all scattered, only being able to be put together with his own hands.

“Guess you’ll now admit it,” Jungwon says, using the wit he still has to his advantage,  “you don’t take the cold well.”

But Sunghoon’s lips actually touch his skin, and it all combusts, it’s cold fire, blue alight breaking through this little icy realm and its fluorescent lights. Jungwon’s heart threatens to jump.

“Do you?” the tone mirrors his own.

Jungwon enjoys it, “That wasn’t as cold,” he doesn’t fail to notice Sunghoon’s lips pressed into a line, but he doesn’t really stop–talking, and looking at Sunghoon’s lips, “… your lips are warm.” 

He isn’t sure if it’s Sunghoon who’s flustered, or if he is only just a reflection of the way Jungwon is agitated–but there’s a redness to his hyung’s cheeks, and a cloudy sheen in his eyes. He can’t find his image in Sunghoon’s pupils, but maybe it’s because Sunghoon is looking at the same place. Maybe it’s because Sunghoon is looking at his lips.

The grip on his hand becomes tighter, and Sunghoon leans in. Just enough to let his own forehead touch Jungwon’s, just enough that the air they inhale is filled with oxygen made just for them two.

Cut short . Before they breathe in from each other, before the gap is closed. It’s cut short too sudden, too fast.  

Voices emerge, barely a murmur at first, but then they become clearer, albeit still not discernible.  Pulling apart is a must. Jungwon looks over Sunghoon’s shoulder, a group of girls in puffy jackets, a pastel palette near the entrance–Jungwon exhales, “That startled me.” 

“You want to leave?” Sunghoon asks, quickly getting back on his feet,  his gaze not leaving Jungwon, “Maybe it’s best we do.” 

Jungwon shakes his head, bangs bouncing slightly, the place is not only for them anyway–they simply almost got a bit carried away and were in their own domain for some time, trapped in a bubble that had to burst, “Help me up?” 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at Jungwon’s request, “You are going to come with me?”

“Nope,” Jungwon shrugs, “But we can stay.”

Sunghoon’s grip on his hands is secure enough, and his pull is certain, Jungwon manages to stand on his feet without that much trouble–Sunghoon’s jacket in his grasp.

“Five more minutes?” Sunghoon asks, and then it’s his strides that mark some distance, gliding away from Jungwon to enjoy the rink before others take over.

Jungwon moves just enough, finding support at the barriers at the edge of the rink–he just hopes his knees won’t quaver.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the group of girls gaping at Sunghoon, surprised at his movements, at the grace. It’s natural for people to feel drawn to him, Sunghoon is made for the public eye. Jungwon can’t understand what they are whispering to each other about and tries his best to not mind it.

But there’s coyness to their demeanor. And he can sort of comprehend it –it’s awe inducing to see someone like Park Sunghoon do what he does best. 

The same Park Sunghoon that is his boyfriend, made of enchantments and diamond flakes. A prince for all to stare.

And Sunghoon only sees him–from his lips, what falls are only endearments, “Jungwonie!”

A wave, a smile, Sunghoon spins and glides. And Jungwon wonders if he is doing this for him, if the blades of his skates are carving the rink in his name. 

When in love, the occasional irrational thing can happen, and it happens to Jungwon–it dawns on him that there’s marks he can do, a precise one that makes it clear that he is here. That he is the one here with Sunghoon, “Hyung!” he lets out, waves too, “Hyung, you are the most amazing ever!”

It's loud, like he is the only one in the audience, like the show is just for him solely. And it makes Sunghoon’s eyes widen, breath caught, “Hyung!” Jungwon half-shouts, “You look handsome on the ice!”

That is what does it, Sunghoon acts up, flushing entirely, tripping and almost losing balance, a recovery done just in time to stop himself before he ends up falling. Sunghoon clutches his shirt, breathing out in relief, ‘that was close’ Jungwon can see him mouth.

Jungwon hears the voices now farther, probably gone to rent their own skates–and he isn’t sure why, but he can finally breathe a bit easier. Perhaps it’s the silly ghosts again. 

His hyung’s voice feels closer, “It’s getting late,” Sunghoon says, Jungwon looks up just in time in order to see Sunghoon’s face a few centimeters away from his own, “I think we need to head back.”

He nods, briefly looking at his own skates, remembering he has to take them off.

“I’ll help with that.” there’s reassurances in Sunghoon’s words, but also in the way that his hold on Jungwon feels safe. It’s probably him being incapable of evading it, but his hand reaches across Sunghoon’s waist. Naturally, for support, and perhaps to also feel closer, too close.

Sunghoon doesn’t make much of it, not until Jungwon’s fingers accidentally make contact with his skin the moment his shirt slightly lifts. “Hey!”

Jungwon chuckles, “Sorry, ice prince .” 

They exit the icy platform, but the enchantment doesn’t fade. They sit at the closest bench, Sunghoon quickly takes the rented skates off of Jungwon’s feet, sneakers find him again, “I’ll hold your hand instead, next time,” Sunghoon says, “I have a mischievous kitten with me.”

Jungwon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to prevent the grin that threatens to form. From the corner of his eye, he sees that Sunghoon is back to his casual and somehow chic footwear–Jungwon observes the difference between their styles, one of his feet making contact with Sunghoon.

“You like it.”

Jungwon states, plain and simple. Like he is reporting that the rink in fact is cold. Or that Sunghoon almost kissed him not so long ago. His fingers digging on his joggers, head thrown backwards--the fluorescent lights flood his vision. And then it's silent for a few, only the shuffling sound of Sunghoon’s jacket is heard.

Ah , Jungwon's mind starts, maybe I talked too much . There is that spooky white once again. Made of assumptions and things that are not real because Sunghoon wouldn't be mad at some banter. Or at openly being told, You actually are down bad for Yang Jungwon . And yet, Jungwon wonders if perhaps that was a little bold, if perhaps Sunghoon’s shyness decided to call.

There is weight over his shoulders that grounds him, and a touch that aids it in the task too–when he opens his eyes he notices his own padded jacket resting over his frame. Sunghoon’s looking at him from above, “Let’s go?”

At this moment, he actually takes Sunghoon’s hand and stands up. His hyung helps him with the jacket, zipping it all the way up, enough that Jungwon’s face ends up hidden behind the collar, ‘Hyung’ he mutters, voice muffled by the material.

Sunghoon’s eyes form lunar arcs once again, crescents, smile full, like the moon in bloom until it’s suddenly out of his view. The world dashes and for an instant, Jungwon only is met with an almost absence of colour. Light trying to creep in through some cracks. And he wonders if he is entrapped in a locked chest with  a diamond, or if it’s just Sunghoon’s arms.

Embrace gelid, and then it transforms into something far too warm.

“I do.” Sunghoon whispers, head resting on top of Jungwon’s, words brushing against his hair, “I do like my cat.” 

It’s truly spring blossoming in the gaps between them.

The night welcomes them when they leave, reality awfully reminding them magic shows only last for a bit. And then it's responsibilities, sleepless nights, and all that’s hectic for a while.

It’s not as busy while out, but neon and polychromatic makes the hour feel far too alive. 

Jungwon’s hand easily finds Sunghoon’s–it’s just natural to hold him, a habit, comforting. It’s showcased to him whenever they walk past a store, or huge glass walls act as a frame to their walk. Jungwon’s eyes always fall on the way their fingers tightly lock, and his grasp tightens just the slightest.

Sunghoon hums at that, glancing  in between them from time to time.

“They were staring at you back in the rink.” Jungwon says, he doesn’t really know why he mentions it, neither if it’s worth doing so. But he isn’t sure of what else to say that doesn’t amount to something cheesy like: I like it, how if you were to ask me if this date is enough–then, this is what I want. With you all.

“There were people?” Sunghoon responds with a question, “I was just staring at you.”

“Oh,” Jungwon feels them both slowing down, his heart quickens–but somehow, all feels calm, quiet. Natural in the way the streets become a blur of all the magic that doesn’t want to go, and hazy with his heart’s desires, “that’s heart fluttering.”

Sunghoon’s steps stop and that prompts Jungwon to turn, “Sunghoon?”

Under the mix of lamp post lights and the blend of led, Sunghoon looks more like he was made for Jungwon to admire–not all sharp, perfect and frozen white. But painted with translucent swatches, Jungwon’s own version of Starry Night. 

And perhaps, Sunghoon sees him just like that too.

“I make your heart go, I know.” a pinch on Jungwon’s cheek, a touch he doesn’t recoil from.

“I make you trip and fall.”

“Hey seriously Yang Jungwon!”

Jungwon gazes at the glass windows next to them, from a business that is already closed and he can’t help but feel his heart all full at the way they are both smiling.

“Hyung?” Jungwon asks, just to make sure, so that he knows that Sunghoon feels the same, “Are you happy?”

Sunghoon blinks, but fondness takes over his features quickly, and maybe just maybe, the lights are not a mix of well curated oils–for a second, they turn the faintest shade of red, “We are on a date, we are a couple,” he explains, “of course I am.”

It sets them in motion again, a silent one, based on habit, routine and of years of knowing how they function together and alone. 

It’s Sunghoon who feels now a little shaky, perhaps somewhat pensive–Jungwon can feel it in his touch, a little tremble in his hands. Overthinking now alive, “Did it feel like a date?”

Jungwon hums, “It still does.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say much and aside from the sounds of the eventual passing car–there’s nothing eventful that breaks the atmosphere between them. Or rather, there’s not much that shatters the little bubble made out of tension due to probably unmet expectations.

Jungwon is okay with this, Sunghoon, probably trying to be a perfectionist.

“Sorry, it's due to all the training–”

“After midterms,” Jungwon’s words intercept him, before anything derails or Sunghoon feels like he is to blame for anything, “It’s seriously alright.”

"I promise it will be better," Sunghoon says, voice small, eyes not meeting Jungwon–as though he was not fully proud of today’s score, "the date, it will be so much better."

Jungwon’s hand slips out of Sunghoon’s grasp, and his feet take him two or three steps ahead–Sunghoon doesn’t sound as close. But the little urgency in his tone is present.

"Movies, a concert, shopping, a walk down the Han river, anything." 

Jungwon doesn’t want it to crack. Sunghoon’s perfect when he trains, or when he is out of the ice. And somehow, his hyung looks the tiniest bit defeated, guilty for smiling–as though the rink took all his magic and he has nothing more to offer Jungwon. And that’s not true , Jungwon thinks. He just doesn’t like Sunghoon because he is simply cool .

"That's alright, it's fine, hyung" 

He sees Sunghoon looking downwards, for a minute, charisma and confidence dissolving. And he’s just Park Sunghoon, sheepish and nervous, fidgeting, biting on his lips, evading Jungwon’s gaze.

"Yang Jungwon."

He says, low enough that Jungwon only picks it up due to the absence of vehicles on the road. This Sunghoon is different from the one that kissed him when they fell on the rink, from the one that next to him let love downpour in pink. He is different from the one that smiled against his lips right after their first kiss.

He is different from the one that says ‘kitten, don’t tease me.’

Sunghoon’s a sculpted crystal, one that’s shattering and becoming vulnerable, and once that layer has come off–all that stays over him is what was beneath perfect cuts. He is not bleeding, but something else comes out of the cracks, in currents, in waves. In words that stumble one upon the other.

It’s the contents of Sunghoon’s heart that flood the space. 

" Iloveyousomuchyoudon'tevenknow ."

Jungwon blinks, once, twice. Assimilating what he’s just heard, trying to make sense of it all. That’s something he didn’t expect, that’s something that traps him in his spot–his own heart in Sunghoon’s hold. ‘What’ his lips form, soundless.

Sunghoon takes a step ahead, like the pavement is permanently frosted, and he is trying to sail it without his skates.

‘I love you’ it echoes in Jungwon’s mind, 'so much you don't even know' , the words that they originally forgot to say with this actual meaning attached to them.

"I said," Sunghoon starts, fingers on Jungwon’s shoulders, digging on his padded jacket. His breath hitches, and then he looks into Jungwon’s eyes, like he hopes Jungwon will stay there until he finishes what he is going to say. Like he hopes he will stay there until the very end, "I said I love you. So much. You don’t even know."

Jungwon gulps, there’s resounding against his ribcage, a tremor in its depths that he hopes it’s only for his ears to take note of, “I do too,” comes out almost hoarse, Sunghoon beams at the response, “I love you too, I mean.”

Their gazes are inconstant for a second, there’s something different about being at a distance so close with your feelings in the open–and only the object of your affection containing them, your heart in his hold. 

"Your ears are red, hyung…"

Jungwon points out, extremely aware that the distance between now actually feels far too close. That it’s not an unforeseen moment, but that expectations definitely roam. 

"Your cheeks are red," Sunghoon responds, an observation, plenty aware that he is the hand that painted those shades all over Jungwon’s visage. Being vocal about love, definitely makes him fully aware that hues cascade when it’s just them.

Jungwon reaches for Sunghoon’s cheek, spreading the tones a bit on his cheekbones, thumb gracing the mole there. And he dares close the gap, standing a bit on his toes, lips falling right on top of Sunghoon’s beauty mark–Jungwon makes the night shimmer. All radiant, moon like, howlite. 

 "You…" 

Sunghoon breathes out, perhaps enraptured, perhaps dazed by that simple action. 

Fondness takes over Jungwon’s lips, makes them curve all pretty and sweet. It’s that which makes Sunghoon react, the oxygen that is shared between the two holding a command–Sunghoon follows it perfectly, ‘go kiss the love of your life.’

And he does , fingers at the sides of Jungwon’s throat, a back and forth movement, until lips are finding his own–and they fall, they fall just a little more. Jungwon loses his fingers on Sunghoon’s locks, Sunghoon gets drunk in constant love. 

It’s easy to breathe in from Sunghoon’s lips, it is just right to feel them slide against his–it’s awe-inducing to hear his name in between kisses. And as Sunghoon’s frame presses against him, it’s mesmerizing to feel all the beats that his hyung’s heart misses  

“I love you…”  Sunghoon says, “My only regret right now is–”

“Not taking me on a proper date?” 

“Yeah… yeah.”

Jungwon’s hands grasp Sunghoon’s collar, bringing him closer in a haste, his lips quickly on Sunghoon's. And then there is one, two long pecks. 

And he turns around, leaving Sunghoon a little bit dazed. 

“We kissed many times," Jungwon says, "I think that’s a perfect date.”

Sunghoon catches up a few seconds later, the pavement now secure enough for him to take some steps, “You sure about that?”

Jungwon nods. Perhaps this was just what he needed, love all incandescent, kisses that are in no way purposeless.

He feels Sunghoon's hand against his own one more, fingertips tracing light circles on his skin. All the sounds Jungwon hears after that come from Sunghoon's happily humming. Jungwon closes his eyes, all of this is bliss in between chaotic nights.