Sleepless
Title: Sleepless
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Wordcount: 4370
Rating: PG
Summary: Jongwoon is tired of sleepless nights.
Notes: For zephyral. FIVE MONTHS LATE. orz Can this still be considered a Holiday fic? sobs. Also sorry for the ending in general. idk how to write anymore~
It’s late when the three of them finally make it back to the hotel. Their concert had gone as expected; with plenty of tears, cheers, and encores. After a hasty getaway in the van down some back allies, they’d gone out to dinner and, under the cover of thick scarves and low-pulled hats, congratulated each other on a job well done. Ryeowook and Kyuhyun had insisted on wine and the night became even more rambunctious.
Now, however, Jongwoon finds himself wishing he’d put his foot down and sent the wine away. Not only did he end up paying for it (Kyuhyun “forgot” his wallet and Ryeowook was two seconds away from twirling away from the table and declaring his drunken love for all the patrons of the restaurant), but he also ended up on piggyback duty. Kyuhyun laughs at him, burdened by the weight of two winter coats, scarves, hats, boots, and one extremely sloshed Ryeowook. Ryeowook keeps giggling in his ear, cold nose digging into the space between his hat and neck. He hates himself for promising the managers that he would be the good one, the responsible one. Then again, the sensation of Ryeowook’s thighs squeezing his sides as they step into the elevator is not one he gets to revel in every day.
Kyuhyun pities him just enough to unlock Ryeowook’s door for him before entering his own room and leaving Jongwoon alone to wrestle Ryeowook into bed. He drops Ryeowook on the mattress and begins to strip himself of his winter clothing, finding the air of the hotel to be much too warm for so many layers. He prods Ryeowook into doing the same, as he removes his coat. He’s still too warm, shirt sticking to his back, sweaty from hauling Ryeowook’s deadweight around.
“You okay on your own?” he asks, gathering up his things and fishing out his own keycard. “I’m in the next room over. Our rooms are conjoined, too. Come get me if you need me. Did you hear me, Ryeowook?”
Ryeowook grumbles and kicks his socks off, already half asleep. Jongwoon sighs and opens the conjoined door a crack. He goes out into the hallway and into his own room. He pulls his side of the door open as well and begins getting his things ready for a quick shower. It’s quick, indeed. Jongwoon doesn’t even bother soaping or shampooing, but just stands under the warm water and lets it run over his tired muscles. There will be time enough tomorrow for a proper shower.
He leaves the bathroom and dresses in sweats and a t-shirt before heading back to Ryeowook’s room for a final check. He babies Ryeowook too much, he thinks sometimes. He can’t help it, though. Ryeowook is someone precious to him, someone who he needs to keep an eye out for at all times. He may be making his way steadily towards thirty, but to Jongwoon, Ryeowook will always be a wide-eyed teenager. As he nears Ryeowook’s room, he hears soft sniffles and choked sobs. Sighing, Jongwoon scolds himself for not confiscating Ryeowook’s laptop before leaving. Instead of finding Ryeowook hunched over his computer while a sappy drama or movie plays, however, Jongwoon walks into a completely dark hotel room. He pushes the door open to let the light from his room spill into Ryeowook’s. Ryeowook is also not on the phone with his mother or the hyungs back home. He’s curled up in the exact spot where Jongwoon had left him, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped pitifully around himself. His entire body quakes with the effort of holding in the sobs.
He’s just drunk, Jongwoon tries to argue with himself. No reason for him to stay up any longer and risk utter exhaustion in the morning. Ryeowook will tire himself out soon enough and forget all his sorrows by morning. Something in his heart, however, begs to differ. With a put-upon groan, Jongwoon marches into the room and sits on the bed by Ryeowook’s feet. Ryeowook doesn’t move, just goes on crying into the sheets.
“Ryeowook,” Jongwoon calls softly, reaching out to squeeze Ryeowook’s calf. “What’s wrong?”
If anything, Ryeowook begins to cry harder.
“Ryeowook, tell hyung what’s wrong.”
When Ryeowook still makes no move to acknowledge him, Jongwoon crawls closer on the mattress and heaves the younger man up so he sprawls across his lap. Jongwoon arranges him so his head is tucked in the crook of his arm and wipes the tears that are still falling with his other hand. He smoothes Ryeowook’s hair back and rocks him gently, hoping Ryeowook will fall asleep soon.
“Hyung?” Ryeowook’s voice cracks. “Hyung, do you hate me?”
Jongwoon is surprised to hear this. He thought it was obvious how much he adores Ryeowook, how much he dotes on him, spoils him. He quickly wipes away the new wave of tears and shushes the younger man. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I can’t tell you. You’ll hate me.”
“Nonsense,” Jongwoon disagrees. He’s pretty sure this isn’t just a drunken mood swing, but Ryeowook is spouting cryptic gibberish and it is late. He drags Ryeowook across the mattress and dumps him against the pillows, then tugs the blankets out from underneath him before tucking him in. “Go to sleep, Ryeowook.”
“Will you stay with me?” Ryeowook has stopped crying, but his eyes are still watery and Jongwoon watches his lip tremble.
“Of course,” Jongwoon sighs. He goes to turn the light off in his room before slipping under the blankets and allowing Ryeowook to cuddle up to his side. “Sleep, now.”
Ryeowook makes a small, indecipherable sound by his shoulder and snuggles farther into the blankets. Jongwoon lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. He curls one hand under the back of his head and blows out a long breath. He knows he won’t sleep well tonight, especially when Ryeowook turns on his side and Jongwoon can feel the warm skin of Ryeowook’s back, bared from a shirt bunched up, press against his forearm. It’s a few minutes later that Ryeowook begins to snore. It’s not deafening, like Donghee or Kyuhyun, who can be heard through walls, but it’s right in his ear and with each rolling intake of breath, Jongwoon’s heart flutters. After a moment, he props himself up on his elbow and leans over Ryeowook. By the dim, yellow light of the street lamp outside the window, he can faintly see the tear tracks still yet to dry on Ryeowook’s face. Carefully, he reaches out and brushes the wetness away with his thumb, frowning at the rough texture of Ryeowook’s skin, thick with clotted, dried-out makeup and sweat.
Just as he pulls his hand away and is about to flop back against the pillows, Ryeowook’s eye flutters open. He blinks blearily for a second, then turns his head to catch Jongwoon’s eye. Jongwoon freezes, unsure of what to do, and Ryeowook turns onto his other side and curls up against Jongwoon’s body. He smacks his lips and curls his fist into Jongwoon’s t-shirt. Jongwoon settles down stiffly and resumes staring at the ceiling, hoping it will bless him with the answers to all his current problems and deliver him quickly to the realm of sleep.
“I love you, hyung.”
Jongwoon doesn’t sleep that night.
…
The next night, they drag themselves back to the hotel, skip out on the parties, and order room service. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook talk animatedly about the concert while they wait for the food to be delivered, recapping their favorite performances, crowd reactions, and personal goofs. By the time the food arrives, the two are sprawled out over the bed, flipping through the television channels and trying their hand at Japanese.
Jongwoon takes his portion of food to the small desk in the corner with his laptop and tries to ignore the deafening squeals of “おいしい!” from the other side of the room. Each of Ryeowook’s giggles, each word, each sigh, sets Jongwoon’s nerves alight.
He’s positive Ryeowook’s late-night confession had been one of brotherly love and drunken confusion. Ryeowook is, in fact, prone to shouting his undying love to anyone and everyone within earshot when he’s had a bit too much to drink. Jongwoon shouldn’t get his hopes up. Yet every look his way from the younger man makes Jongwoon’s skin pulse with a panicked heat. Goosebumps raised in the wake of each of Ryeowook’s fanservice touches during the concert. Now, he can’t even bare to look at the man, for fear of blurting out some hidden, embarrassing secret he’d locked away years ago when they were newly debuted.
A thin hand comes down on his shoulder and a honey-sweet voice mumbles something in his ear. He turns his head and comes face to face with the very man he’d been hoping to avoid. So close, nothing but mingled breath separating them. Clear, dark eyes, round and big as the moon, staring deeply into his own. A perfectly arched brow raises over one of those eyes, and a foggy “hyung?” reaches his ears. He shakes his head.
“What was that?” he spits out, feeling his ears redden considerably. He silently thanks God for his long, shaggy mop of hair.
“We’re going to bed,” Ryeowook says again, no hint of annoyance of having to repeat himself. He’s too kind for that.
“Oh, right,” he turns and sees Kyuhyun packing up his precious laptop to take back to his own room. Jongwoon wonders when time sped up, because the clock is reading almost three in the morning and he can still feel the concert-given high coursing through his veins. Or perhaps it’s because Ryeowook’s hand never left his shoulder. “Good night then.”
“Night,” Kyuhyun yawns, swiping at his eyes.
“Need me to come tuck you in, magnae?”
Kyuhyun gives him a scathing laugh and leaves the room. Jongwoon notices, with a small groan, the absolute mess Kyuhyun left on the bed. The sheets are nearly torn from the bed and snack wrappers, the remains of their dinner, and a pair of socks that will be missed in the morning litter the area. Ryeowook must have noticed his distress, because the comforting weight of his tiny palm leaves Jongwoon’s shoulder as he scurries off to the other side of the room.
“Don’t worry, hyung. I’ll tidy up before I go.”
“It’s fine,” Jongwoon insists, finally getting up from his chair. He grabs a pillow from the floor and looks around for its case (really, what did they get up to that he missed?).
“No, it’s our fault. You probably wanted to relax tonight and Kyu and I were being loud.” Ryeowook sweeps all the trash from the bed and carries it to the trash bin.
“I said it’s okay, Ryeowook. Go to bed.” He grabs Ryeowook’s elbow when he passes and gives it a squeeze. “We have the morning off tomorrow, remember? We can actually go sight-seeing. Go to sleep so we can get up early.” He tugs Ryeowook towards the door that joins their rooms.
Ryeowook clenches and unclenches his hands for a second, looking lost, and (is it possible?) put out. He finally sighs and opens the door. “Alright. Good night.”
Jongwoon watches the door swing closed until just a sliver of light shines between the frame and the door, and climbs into bed. He burrows under the sheets and turns the lamp off. After shifting around a bit, and pulling another wrapper out from under his spine, he shuts his eyes and wills himself to sleep. It’s late, he’s worked all day, and, now that the television has been shut off, there is a soft pattering of rain against the window. The sound lulls him to sleep, exhaustion pulling at his mind and body.
It feels like he’s been asleep for all of three seconds before he’s shaken awake by an insistent hand on his shoulder. He bats it away, sight-seeing and Shibuya be damned. Sleep is more precious than a new hat or pair of jeans. But then, the shaking is accompanied by a sharp whistle of wind and a softest of whispers.
“Hyung? Hyung, are you awake?”
It’s the voice he’d fight to the ends of the Earth for. Or crack his eyes open for.
“Ryeowook? Why are you here?” Jongwoon rasps, throat finally catching up to the abuse of four concerts in two days and not enough sleep in seven years.
“I can’t sleep,” the other whines.
“So you woke me up?” Jongwoon grumbles, tugging the sheets more comfortably around himself. He squints into the darkness, trying to make out Ryeowook’s silhouette in the dim room.
“The wind is loud…” Ryeowook trails off and Jongwoon can vaguely see him shift his weight from foot to foot.
“You have to grow up eventually,” Jongwoon huffs, but he slides over, wincing when the cold sheets meet his previously warm body. Ryeowook pouts (Jongwoon can’t exactly see it, but he knows it’s there) and fumbles under the covers as well. He rolls into Jongwoon’s warm spot and sighs contentedly. Jongwoon tosses his arm over Ryeowook’s chest, pulling him in close to offer warmth and comfort. Ryeowook buries his nose in the hollow of Jongwoon’s throat and sniffs, a shaky breath following. “Were you crying?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to your hyung.”
“Not all the way,” Ryeowook confesses.
“What are you crying about this time?”
“Nothing important.”
“Did the wind scare you?”
Ryeowook is quiet for a moment, then tightens his grip on Jongwoon’s shirt and nods. Jongwoon smiles and wraps his arms tighter around Ryeowook.
“You crybaby.”
Ryeowook whines and kicks at him underneath the blankets. “Don’t be mean.”
“Alright, alright,” Jongwoon hums. His eyes are too tired to hold open and he can feel himself slipping off. “Just sleep, now.”
“I love you, hyung,” Ryeowook whispers against his chest, and Jongwoon barely hears it. It takes a second for him to mull it over in his brain.
He finally mumbles out, “You too. G’night.”
He’ll think about it in the morning.
…
Morning comes and goes, swept up in a frenzy of taxis and disguises. It’s cloudy, but Jongwoon wears sunglasses, mostly to spy on Ryeowook. The younger man doesn’t seem to be acting any different. He’s still as clingy as ever to Kyuhyun, grabbing onto his elbow and dragging him off to look into a window or to buy food from one of the thousands of greasy venders on the streets. Jongwoon figures he must still be looking too far into this entire thing. He tries to stow away the awkward butterflies upsetting his stomach and enjoy the day. It’s hard, though, because when he slings a companionable arm around Ryeowook’s shoulder, he feels the shudder that runs down Ryeowook’s spine and only a blind man would miss the blush that fans out over his cheeks.
At lunchtime, they stop in a small park. It’s not too crowded and there are a couple benches scattered along the pathway. They claim one for themselves and set their bags down. Due to the snacking they’d done all morning at Ryeowook’s insistence, lunch hardly sounds appetizing to any of them. Instead, Kyuhyun and the manager set off in search of coffee. Jongwoon leans back, arms stretched out on the back rest to either side of him, and allows his head to fall back, his face basking in the cool winter sun. After a moment, he feels a light pressure against his left arm and peels an eye open to see Ryeowook has leaned back as well. He’s focused on his phone, however, fingers sliding across the glossy screen as he types out a message-probably tweeting. Jongwoon watches his face for a moment, watches his eyes shift back and forth, and the small tilt of a smile shape his cheeks. His attention is then called to the deep bags that drag down his eyes, uncovered by makeup for their morning off.
“Hey,” he calls out, causing Ryeowook to jump in moderate surprise. “Did you sleep alright last night? I mean after the storm.”
“I did,” Ryeowook confirms, eyes not leaving his phone, even as the backlight times out and the screen goes dark.
“You look exhausted. Go to sleep early tonight, if you can.”
“I will, hyung.”
Jongwoon frowns. He can’t begin to figure out why Ryeowook is so drawn in to himself. He decides to change the topic. “I can’t wait to get back to Korea. I’m sick of hotels.”
Ryeowook just hums in response. His eyes turn shiny and Jongwoon stares in shock. Ryeowook quickly turns his head and looks down the path. Jongwoon follows his eyes and sees Kyuhyun and the manager making their return, laden down with coffee and what appears to be more street food.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, quietly, afraid to be overheard.
“I’m fine.” Ryeowook jumps off the bench and hurries to help Kyuhyun with the food. For the rest of the afternoon, he keeps an arm’s length between the two of them and even talks more with the manager than with Jongwoon.
Jongwoon can’t explain the feeling in his stomach as anything other than jealousy.
…
That night, at the insistence of the managers, they split off to their own rooms early. They have a plane to catch at ten and schedules to keep back in Korea. No time for messing around in the morning and getting a late start. Jongwoon is thankful for this. Any extra time to sleep is a blessing. He knows once he’s back in Korea he won’t be sleeping for days. He grunts a goodnight to the other two in the hallway and enters his room. He drops his shopping bags, full of presents for his parents and a couple things for himself, on the extra bed and kicks off his shoes. He barely makes it out of his jeans, which he tosses to the floor with his belt still looped inside, before flopping face-first on the starched pillows. He bats at the light switch and allows a pleased groan to pass his lips when the room is cast into darkness.
Through the wall, he can hear Ryeowook still knocking around, the zip of a suitcase, and the rustle of sheets. A television is flicked on and the rowdy laugh-track of a late-night variety show fills his room. Growling to himself, he peels his face from the pillows and looks around to where the door between his and Ryeowook’s room is still open. He should shut it. Block out the noise and light and get some well-earned sleep. It would also mean shutting out Ryeowook. He debates it for a second, then decides just to grab his iPod off the bedside table. They didn’t go drinking and the weather is calm. Ryeowook will stay in his own room.
He’s halfway through a playlist and all the way asleep when a tiny hand finds his shoulder and shakes him. He groggily pulls out one of the earbuds and digs around under the pillows to find his iPod while squinting into the darkness.
“What do you want?” he growls. It may be Ryeowook, but it’s also the middle of the night on his last night to get a full eight hours.
“Hyung, I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?” Without waiting to be invited, Ryeowook lifts up the blanket and prepares to climb in. Suddenly, Jongwoon is wide awake.
“You didn’t have a bad dream, did you? You weren’t scared of the wind and you weren’t drunk,” Jongwoon states matter-of-factly. Ryeowook freezes.
“What are you talking about? Of course-”
“Don’t lie to me. I know you, Ryeowook. You haven’t cried at a storm since you were twenty. You don’t get drunk off a couple glasses of wine.”
“Why are you being like this?” Ryeowook’s eyes begin to tear up and he takes a step away from the bed. Jongwoon reaches out and snatches his wrist. With a sharp pull, he drags Ryeowook onto the bed.
“Don’t you leave. Sit right here and tell me what’s been going on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryeowook insists. He pulls at his wrist and fights to sit up. Jongwoon throws an arm around his waist and drags him in closer, putting an end to all Ryeowook’s struggles.
“Why have you been sneaking into my bed every night?” Jongwoon demands to know, nose inches from Ryeowook’s.
“I haven’t been sneaking. You stayed in mine and you invited me last night.” Ryeowook’s eyes narrow and he turns onto his back, avoiding Jongwoon’s stare.
“Why do you even want to sleep with me?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind so much!” Ryeowook snaps. “I’m sorry!”
“Just tell me what you mean.”
“Huh?”
“When you said you love me, because I really can’t handle this,” Jongwoon says. He props himself up on his elbow and grabs Ryeowook by the chin, pulling his head and forcing him to look him in the eye. “I can’t deal with this back and forth crap. In the morning you pretend like nothing happened or, worse, you avoid me.”
Ryeowook glares back at him, eyebrows drawn together, lips set in a deep frown. He jerks his head away and tries to climb out of the bed. Jongwoon grabs him and drags him back down. Ryeowook struggles, nails digging into Jongwoon’s forearms as he tries to get away. The harder he fights, the tighter Jongwoon hangs on, pulling him into his chest. Ryeowook’s struggles start to weaken, a trembling lip slowly replaces his glare, and he finally falls still, tucked under Jongwoon’s chin.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispers. “You’re my hyung.”
Jongwoon doesn’t reply at first. He just holds Ryeowook against him, hand soothing up and down his back. It’s the answer he’d been hoping for. Nice and uncomplicated.
“I’m sorry for making things awkward,” Ryeowook mutters. “Just forget it all.”
“It can’t be nothing,” Jongwoon decides. “It can’t be nothing when I feel like this.”
Ryeowook’s breathing hitches for a second and Jongwoon thinks for a second that he’s said too much. He pushes Ryeowook back just enough to see his face. His heart twists in his chest when he sees Ryeowook is crying again.
“Just explain to me, Ryeowook. What do you feel?”
Ryeowook shakes harder in his grasp and he beings to sob in earnest. “I don’t know!” he manages to blubber out. “I don’t know! You’re my hyung! How can I feel like this? How can I love you? After so long, how can I?”
“I won’t kiss you until you stop crying.”
Ryeowook chokes on his breath and stares up at Jongwoon, eyes wide and confused. “What?”
“That’s what you want, right? You love me. You want me to kiss you.”
Ryeowook takes a breath and wipes his face of tears, turning his back on Jongwoon. He tries to climb out of bed again, but Jongwoon tightens his hold. It’s come to this and, Jongwoon decides, he’s not going to let it go until it’s resolved. If the feeling is mutual, why let it slip away? He holds Ryeowook tight to his chest and sighs in relief when Ryeowook stops struggling. He repeats his question, voice only a whisper.
“No it isn’t,” Ryeowook finally denies. “I don’t want pity.”
“What pity?”
“I’m not a kid with a scrape, Jongwoon. You can’t just kiss it better. I don’t want this to be a one-night thing. I can’t handle that. I don’t want to wake up in the morning and have to pretend that I don’t love the feeling of your arms around me, or the scent of your skin after a shower, or the way your breath feels on my neck. I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Neither can I. I’ve felt the same way for a while,” Jongwoon confesses. “I’m being serious, Ryeowook. Please don’t think I’d ever play with you like that. I love you, too.”
Now that he’s said it, Jongwoon feels a weight lift from his chest. He loves Ryeowook. As simple as that, it’s no longer a dark secret kept locked away within longing gazes or glancing touches of hands. And to think Ryeowook loves him, too. Not as a good friend or, as he had feared, an older brother. But as a man, someone to love and cherish like no other. A smile spreads out across his lips and he rolls Ryeowook onto his back. Ryeowook’s eyes dart back and forth between his own eyes. His eyebrows are knit up in worry, but there is something behind the worry, something that just as Jongwoon leans in to press their lips together, he recognizes as hope.
As their lips slide together and Ryeowook’s arm comes up to wrap around his neck, Jongwoon feels at peace. He feels happy. Content. Complete. It’s a slow, innocent kiss, one that conveys all the unsaid things, like the nervousness and terror, but mostly the newly uttered emotion. All the negativity and doubt is wiped away and replaced with a new optimism. Jongwoon finally pulls back and watches as Ryeowook’s eyes flutter open. He vaguely notices that Ryeowook looks rejuvenated, not as worn down and exhausted as he had that morning. He smiles and pecks Ryeowook on the lips again.
“We’ll make this work, okay?” he prompts, nudging Ryeowook in the ribs. Ryeowook smiles, eyes crinkling into little crescent moons. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
Jongwoon rolls off to the side and rests his head on the pillow, arms not leaving Ryeowook’s body. He tugs Ryeowook with him until Ryeowook shifts and settles comfortably against him. His body is warm against Jongwoon’s and his arms provide a comforting weight as they wind around his back. They’ve shared a bed countless times over the years, and even this past week, but never has it been so comfortable. Finally, without the awkwardness of keeping a respectful distance, or the tension of unspoken secrets between them, they can fully relax. Jongwoon presses a final kiss to Ryeowook’s forehead and allows his eyes to slide shut.
It’s the best night’s sleep he has ever had.
…
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook
Wordcount: 4370
Rating: PG
Summary: Jongwoon is tired of sleepless nights.
Notes: For zephyral. FIVE MONTHS LATE. orz Can this still be considered a Holiday fic? sobs. Also sorry for the ending in general. idk how to write anymore~
It’s late when the three of them finally make it back to the hotel. Their concert had gone as expected; with plenty of tears, cheers, and encores. After a hasty getaway in the van down some back allies, they’d gone out to dinner and, under the cover of thick scarves and low-pulled hats, congratulated each other on a job well done. Ryeowook and Kyuhyun had insisted on wine and the night became even more rambunctious.
Now, however, Jongwoon finds himself wishing he’d put his foot down and sent the wine away. Not only did he end up paying for it (Kyuhyun “forgot” his wallet and Ryeowook was two seconds away from twirling away from the table and declaring his drunken love for all the patrons of the restaurant), but he also ended up on piggyback duty. Kyuhyun laughs at him, burdened by the weight of two winter coats, scarves, hats, boots, and one extremely sloshed Ryeowook. Ryeowook keeps giggling in his ear, cold nose digging into the space between his hat and neck. He hates himself for promising the managers that he would be the good one, the responsible one. Then again, the sensation of Ryeowook’s thighs squeezing his sides as they step into the elevator is not one he gets to revel in every day.
Kyuhyun pities him just enough to unlock Ryeowook’s door for him before entering his own room and leaving Jongwoon alone to wrestle Ryeowook into bed. He drops Ryeowook on the mattress and begins to strip himself of his winter clothing, finding the air of the hotel to be much too warm for so many layers. He prods Ryeowook into doing the same, as he removes his coat. He’s still too warm, shirt sticking to his back, sweaty from hauling Ryeowook’s deadweight around.
“You okay on your own?” he asks, gathering up his things and fishing out his own keycard. “I’m in the next room over. Our rooms are conjoined, too. Come get me if you need me. Did you hear me, Ryeowook?”
Ryeowook grumbles and kicks his socks off, already half asleep. Jongwoon sighs and opens the conjoined door a crack. He goes out into the hallway and into his own room. He pulls his side of the door open as well and begins getting his things ready for a quick shower. It’s quick, indeed. Jongwoon doesn’t even bother soaping or shampooing, but just stands under the warm water and lets it run over his tired muscles. There will be time enough tomorrow for a proper shower.
He leaves the bathroom and dresses in sweats and a t-shirt before heading back to Ryeowook’s room for a final check. He babies Ryeowook too much, he thinks sometimes. He can’t help it, though. Ryeowook is someone precious to him, someone who he needs to keep an eye out for at all times. He may be making his way steadily towards thirty, but to Jongwoon, Ryeowook will always be a wide-eyed teenager. As he nears Ryeowook’s room, he hears soft sniffles and choked sobs. Sighing, Jongwoon scolds himself for not confiscating Ryeowook’s laptop before leaving. Instead of finding Ryeowook hunched over his computer while a sappy drama or movie plays, however, Jongwoon walks into a completely dark hotel room. He pushes the door open to let the light from his room spill into Ryeowook’s. Ryeowook is also not on the phone with his mother or the hyungs back home. He’s curled up in the exact spot where Jongwoon had left him, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped pitifully around himself. His entire body quakes with the effort of holding in the sobs.
He’s just drunk, Jongwoon tries to argue with himself. No reason for him to stay up any longer and risk utter exhaustion in the morning. Ryeowook will tire himself out soon enough and forget all his sorrows by morning. Something in his heart, however, begs to differ. With a put-upon groan, Jongwoon marches into the room and sits on the bed by Ryeowook’s feet. Ryeowook doesn’t move, just goes on crying into the sheets.
“Ryeowook,” Jongwoon calls softly, reaching out to squeeze Ryeowook’s calf. “What’s wrong?”
If anything, Ryeowook begins to cry harder.
“Ryeowook, tell hyung what’s wrong.”
When Ryeowook still makes no move to acknowledge him, Jongwoon crawls closer on the mattress and heaves the younger man up so he sprawls across his lap. Jongwoon arranges him so his head is tucked in the crook of his arm and wipes the tears that are still falling with his other hand. He smoothes Ryeowook’s hair back and rocks him gently, hoping Ryeowook will fall asleep soon.
“Hyung?” Ryeowook’s voice cracks. “Hyung, do you hate me?”
Jongwoon is surprised to hear this. He thought it was obvious how much he adores Ryeowook, how much he dotes on him, spoils him. He quickly wipes away the new wave of tears and shushes the younger man. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I can’t tell you. You’ll hate me.”
“Nonsense,” Jongwoon disagrees. He’s pretty sure this isn’t just a drunken mood swing, but Ryeowook is spouting cryptic gibberish and it is late. He drags Ryeowook across the mattress and dumps him against the pillows, then tugs the blankets out from underneath him before tucking him in. “Go to sleep, Ryeowook.”
“Will you stay with me?” Ryeowook has stopped crying, but his eyes are still watery and Jongwoon watches his lip tremble.
“Of course,” Jongwoon sighs. He goes to turn the light off in his room before slipping under the blankets and allowing Ryeowook to cuddle up to his side. “Sleep, now.”
Ryeowook makes a small, indecipherable sound by his shoulder and snuggles farther into the blankets. Jongwoon lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. He curls one hand under the back of his head and blows out a long breath. He knows he won’t sleep well tonight, especially when Ryeowook turns on his side and Jongwoon can feel the warm skin of Ryeowook’s back, bared from a shirt bunched up, press against his forearm. It’s a few minutes later that Ryeowook begins to snore. It’s not deafening, like Donghee or Kyuhyun, who can be heard through walls, but it’s right in his ear and with each rolling intake of breath, Jongwoon’s heart flutters. After a moment, he props himself up on his elbow and leans over Ryeowook. By the dim, yellow light of the street lamp outside the window, he can faintly see the tear tracks still yet to dry on Ryeowook’s face. Carefully, he reaches out and brushes the wetness away with his thumb, frowning at the rough texture of Ryeowook’s skin, thick with clotted, dried-out makeup and sweat.
Just as he pulls his hand away and is about to flop back against the pillows, Ryeowook’s eye flutters open. He blinks blearily for a second, then turns his head to catch Jongwoon’s eye. Jongwoon freezes, unsure of what to do, and Ryeowook turns onto his other side and curls up against Jongwoon’s body. He smacks his lips and curls his fist into Jongwoon’s t-shirt. Jongwoon settles down stiffly and resumes staring at the ceiling, hoping it will bless him with the answers to all his current problems and deliver him quickly to the realm of sleep.
“I love you, hyung.”
Jongwoon doesn’t sleep that night.
…
The next night, they drag themselves back to the hotel, skip out on the parties, and order room service. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook talk animatedly about the concert while they wait for the food to be delivered, recapping their favorite performances, crowd reactions, and personal goofs. By the time the food arrives, the two are sprawled out over the bed, flipping through the television channels and trying their hand at Japanese.
Jongwoon takes his portion of food to the small desk in the corner with his laptop and tries to ignore the deafening squeals of “おいしい!” from the other side of the room. Each of Ryeowook’s giggles, each word, each sigh, sets Jongwoon’s nerves alight.
He’s positive Ryeowook’s late-night confession had been one of brotherly love and drunken confusion. Ryeowook is, in fact, prone to shouting his undying love to anyone and everyone within earshot when he’s had a bit too much to drink. Jongwoon shouldn’t get his hopes up. Yet every look his way from the younger man makes Jongwoon’s skin pulse with a panicked heat. Goosebumps raised in the wake of each of Ryeowook’s fanservice touches during the concert. Now, he can’t even bare to look at the man, for fear of blurting out some hidden, embarrassing secret he’d locked away years ago when they were newly debuted.
A thin hand comes down on his shoulder and a honey-sweet voice mumbles something in his ear. He turns his head and comes face to face with the very man he’d been hoping to avoid. So close, nothing but mingled breath separating them. Clear, dark eyes, round and big as the moon, staring deeply into his own. A perfectly arched brow raises over one of those eyes, and a foggy “hyung?” reaches his ears. He shakes his head.
“What was that?” he spits out, feeling his ears redden considerably. He silently thanks God for his long, shaggy mop of hair.
“We’re going to bed,” Ryeowook says again, no hint of annoyance of having to repeat himself. He’s too kind for that.
“Oh, right,” he turns and sees Kyuhyun packing up his precious laptop to take back to his own room. Jongwoon wonders when time sped up, because the clock is reading almost three in the morning and he can still feel the concert-given high coursing through his veins. Or perhaps it’s because Ryeowook’s hand never left his shoulder. “Good night then.”
“Night,” Kyuhyun yawns, swiping at his eyes.
“Need me to come tuck you in, magnae?”
Kyuhyun gives him a scathing laugh and leaves the room. Jongwoon notices, with a small groan, the absolute mess Kyuhyun left on the bed. The sheets are nearly torn from the bed and snack wrappers, the remains of their dinner, and a pair of socks that will be missed in the morning litter the area. Ryeowook must have noticed his distress, because the comforting weight of his tiny palm leaves Jongwoon’s shoulder as he scurries off to the other side of the room.
“Don’t worry, hyung. I’ll tidy up before I go.”
“It’s fine,” Jongwoon insists, finally getting up from his chair. He grabs a pillow from the floor and looks around for its case (really, what did they get up to that he missed?).
“No, it’s our fault. You probably wanted to relax tonight and Kyu and I were being loud.” Ryeowook sweeps all the trash from the bed and carries it to the trash bin.
“I said it’s okay, Ryeowook. Go to bed.” He grabs Ryeowook’s elbow when he passes and gives it a squeeze. “We have the morning off tomorrow, remember? We can actually go sight-seeing. Go to sleep so we can get up early.” He tugs Ryeowook towards the door that joins their rooms.
Ryeowook clenches and unclenches his hands for a second, looking lost, and (is it possible?) put out. He finally sighs and opens the door. “Alright. Good night.”
Jongwoon watches the door swing closed until just a sliver of light shines between the frame and the door, and climbs into bed. He burrows under the sheets and turns the lamp off. After shifting around a bit, and pulling another wrapper out from under his spine, he shuts his eyes and wills himself to sleep. It’s late, he’s worked all day, and, now that the television has been shut off, there is a soft pattering of rain against the window. The sound lulls him to sleep, exhaustion pulling at his mind and body.
It feels like he’s been asleep for all of three seconds before he’s shaken awake by an insistent hand on his shoulder. He bats it away, sight-seeing and Shibuya be damned. Sleep is more precious than a new hat or pair of jeans. But then, the shaking is accompanied by a sharp whistle of wind and a softest of whispers.
“Hyung? Hyung, are you awake?”
It’s the voice he’d fight to the ends of the Earth for. Or crack his eyes open for.
“Ryeowook? Why are you here?” Jongwoon rasps, throat finally catching up to the abuse of four concerts in two days and not enough sleep in seven years.
“I can’t sleep,” the other whines.
“So you woke me up?” Jongwoon grumbles, tugging the sheets more comfortably around himself. He squints into the darkness, trying to make out Ryeowook’s silhouette in the dim room.
“The wind is loud…” Ryeowook trails off and Jongwoon can vaguely see him shift his weight from foot to foot.
“You have to grow up eventually,” Jongwoon huffs, but he slides over, wincing when the cold sheets meet his previously warm body. Ryeowook pouts (Jongwoon can’t exactly see it, but he knows it’s there) and fumbles under the covers as well. He rolls into Jongwoon’s warm spot and sighs contentedly. Jongwoon tosses his arm over Ryeowook’s chest, pulling him in close to offer warmth and comfort. Ryeowook buries his nose in the hollow of Jongwoon’s throat and sniffs, a shaky breath following. “Were you crying?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to your hyung.”
“Not all the way,” Ryeowook confesses.
“What are you crying about this time?”
“Nothing important.”
“Did the wind scare you?”
Ryeowook is quiet for a moment, then tightens his grip on Jongwoon’s shirt and nods. Jongwoon smiles and wraps his arms tighter around Ryeowook.
“You crybaby.”
Ryeowook whines and kicks at him underneath the blankets. “Don’t be mean.”
“Alright, alright,” Jongwoon hums. His eyes are too tired to hold open and he can feel himself slipping off. “Just sleep, now.”
“I love you, hyung,” Ryeowook whispers against his chest, and Jongwoon barely hears it. It takes a second for him to mull it over in his brain.
He finally mumbles out, “You too. G’night.”
He’ll think about it in the morning.
…
Morning comes and goes, swept up in a frenzy of taxis and disguises. It’s cloudy, but Jongwoon wears sunglasses, mostly to spy on Ryeowook. The younger man doesn’t seem to be acting any different. He’s still as clingy as ever to Kyuhyun, grabbing onto his elbow and dragging him off to look into a window or to buy food from one of the thousands of greasy venders on the streets. Jongwoon figures he must still be looking too far into this entire thing. He tries to stow away the awkward butterflies upsetting his stomach and enjoy the day. It’s hard, though, because when he slings a companionable arm around Ryeowook’s shoulder, he feels the shudder that runs down Ryeowook’s spine and only a blind man would miss the blush that fans out over his cheeks.
At lunchtime, they stop in a small park. It’s not too crowded and there are a couple benches scattered along the pathway. They claim one for themselves and set their bags down. Due to the snacking they’d done all morning at Ryeowook’s insistence, lunch hardly sounds appetizing to any of them. Instead, Kyuhyun and the manager set off in search of coffee. Jongwoon leans back, arms stretched out on the back rest to either side of him, and allows his head to fall back, his face basking in the cool winter sun. After a moment, he feels a light pressure against his left arm and peels an eye open to see Ryeowook has leaned back as well. He’s focused on his phone, however, fingers sliding across the glossy screen as he types out a message-probably tweeting. Jongwoon watches his face for a moment, watches his eyes shift back and forth, and the small tilt of a smile shape his cheeks. His attention is then called to the deep bags that drag down his eyes, uncovered by makeup for their morning off.
“Hey,” he calls out, causing Ryeowook to jump in moderate surprise. “Did you sleep alright last night? I mean after the storm.”
“I did,” Ryeowook confirms, eyes not leaving his phone, even as the backlight times out and the screen goes dark.
“You look exhausted. Go to sleep early tonight, if you can.”
“I will, hyung.”
Jongwoon frowns. He can’t begin to figure out why Ryeowook is so drawn in to himself. He decides to change the topic. “I can’t wait to get back to Korea. I’m sick of hotels.”
Ryeowook just hums in response. His eyes turn shiny and Jongwoon stares in shock. Ryeowook quickly turns his head and looks down the path. Jongwoon follows his eyes and sees Kyuhyun and the manager making their return, laden down with coffee and what appears to be more street food.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, quietly, afraid to be overheard.
“I’m fine.” Ryeowook jumps off the bench and hurries to help Kyuhyun with the food. For the rest of the afternoon, he keeps an arm’s length between the two of them and even talks more with the manager than with Jongwoon.
Jongwoon can’t explain the feeling in his stomach as anything other than jealousy.
…
That night, at the insistence of the managers, they split off to their own rooms early. They have a plane to catch at ten and schedules to keep back in Korea. No time for messing around in the morning and getting a late start. Jongwoon is thankful for this. Any extra time to sleep is a blessing. He knows once he’s back in Korea he won’t be sleeping for days. He grunts a goodnight to the other two in the hallway and enters his room. He drops his shopping bags, full of presents for his parents and a couple things for himself, on the extra bed and kicks off his shoes. He barely makes it out of his jeans, which he tosses to the floor with his belt still looped inside, before flopping face-first on the starched pillows. He bats at the light switch and allows a pleased groan to pass his lips when the room is cast into darkness.
Through the wall, he can hear Ryeowook still knocking around, the zip of a suitcase, and the rustle of sheets. A television is flicked on and the rowdy laugh-track of a late-night variety show fills his room. Growling to himself, he peels his face from the pillows and looks around to where the door between his and Ryeowook’s room is still open. He should shut it. Block out the noise and light and get some well-earned sleep. It would also mean shutting out Ryeowook. He debates it for a second, then decides just to grab his iPod off the bedside table. They didn’t go drinking and the weather is calm. Ryeowook will stay in his own room.
He’s halfway through a playlist and all the way asleep when a tiny hand finds his shoulder and shakes him. He groggily pulls out one of the earbuds and digs around under the pillows to find his iPod while squinting into the darkness.
“What do you want?” he growls. It may be Ryeowook, but it’s also the middle of the night on his last night to get a full eight hours.
“Hyung, I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?” Without waiting to be invited, Ryeowook lifts up the blanket and prepares to climb in. Suddenly, Jongwoon is wide awake.
“You didn’t have a bad dream, did you? You weren’t scared of the wind and you weren’t drunk,” Jongwoon states matter-of-factly. Ryeowook freezes.
“What are you talking about? Of course-”
“Don’t lie to me. I know you, Ryeowook. You haven’t cried at a storm since you were twenty. You don’t get drunk off a couple glasses of wine.”
“Why are you being like this?” Ryeowook’s eyes begin to tear up and he takes a step away from the bed. Jongwoon reaches out and snatches his wrist. With a sharp pull, he drags Ryeowook onto the bed.
“Don’t you leave. Sit right here and tell me what’s been going on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryeowook insists. He pulls at his wrist and fights to sit up. Jongwoon throws an arm around his waist and drags him in closer, putting an end to all Ryeowook’s struggles.
“Why have you been sneaking into my bed every night?” Jongwoon demands to know, nose inches from Ryeowook’s.
“I haven’t been sneaking. You stayed in mine and you invited me last night.” Ryeowook’s eyes narrow and he turns onto his back, avoiding Jongwoon’s stare.
“Why do you even want to sleep with me?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind so much!” Ryeowook snaps. “I’m sorry!”
“Just tell me what you mean.”
“Huh?”
“When you said you love me, because I really can’t handle this,” Jongwoon says. He props himself up on his elbow and grabs Ryeowook by the chin, pulling his head and forcing him to look him in the eye. “I can’t deal with this back and forth crap. In the morning you pretend like nothing happened or, worse, you avoid me.”
Ryeowook glares back at him, eyebrows drawn together, lips set in a deep frown. He jerks his head away and tries to climb out of the bed. Jongwoon grabs him and drags him back down. Ryeowook struggles, nails digging into Jongwoon’s forearms as he tries to get away. The harder he fights, the tighter Jongwoon hangs on, pulling him into his chest. Ryeowook’s struggles start to weaken, a trembling lip slowly replaces his glare, and he finally falls still, tucked under Jongwoon’s chin.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispers. “You’re my hyung.”
Jongwoon doesn’t reply at first. He just holds Ryeowook against him, hand soothing up and down his back. It’s the answer he’d been hoping for. Nice and uncomplicated.
“I’m sorry for making things awkward,” Ryeowook mutters. “Just forget it all.”
“It can’t be nothing,” Jongwoon decides. “It can’t be nothing when I feel like this.”
Ryeowook’s breathing hitches for a second and Jongwoon thinks for a second that he’s said too much. He pushes Ryeowook back just enough to see his face. His heart twists in his chest when he sees Ryeowook is crying again.
“Just explain to me, Ryeowook. What do you feel?”
Ryeowook shakes harder in his grasp and he beings to sob in earnest. “I don’t know!” he manages to blubber out. “I don’t know! You’re my hyung! How can I feel like this? How can I love you? After so long, how can I?”
“I won’t kiss you until you stop crying.”
Ryeowook chokes on his breath and stares up at Jongwoon, eyes wide and confused. “What?”
“That’s what you want, right? You love me. You want me to kiss you.”
Ryeowook takes a breath and wipes his face of tears, turning his back on Jongwoon. He tries to climb out of bed again, but Jongwoon tightens his hold. It’s come to this and, Jongwoon decides, he’s not going to let it go until it’s resolved. If the feeling is mutual, why let it slip away? He holds Ryeowook tight to his chest and sighs in relief when Ryeowook stops struggling. He repeats his question, voice only a whisper.
“No it isn’t,” Ryeowook finally denies. “I don’t want pity.”
“What pity?”
“I’m not a kid with a scrape, Jongwoon. You can’t just kiss it better. I don’t want this to be a one-night thing. I can’t handle that. I don’t want to wake up in the morning and have to pretend that I don’t love the feeling of your arms around me, or the scent of your skin after a shower, or the way your breath feels on my neck. I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Neither can I. I’ve felt the same way for a while,” Jongwoon confesses. “I’m being serious, Ryeowook. Please don’t think I’d ever play with you like that. I love you, too.”
Now that he’s said it, Jongwoon feels a weight lift from his chest. He loves Ryeowook. As simple as that, it’s no longer a dark secret kept locked away within longing gazes or glancing touches of hands. And to think Ryeowook loves him, too. Not as a good friend or, as he had feared, an older brother. But as a man, someone to love and cherish like no other. A smile spreads out across his lips and he rolls Ryeowook onto his back. Ryeowook’s eyes dart back and forth between his own eyes. His eyebrows are knit up in worry, but there is something behind the worry, something that just as Jongwoon leans in to press their lips together, he recognizes as hope.
As their lips slide together and Ryeowook’s arm comes up to wrap around his neck, Jongwoon feels at peace. He feels happy. Content. Complete. It’s a slow, innocent kiss, one that conveys all the unsaid things, like the nervousness and terror, but mostly the newly uttered emotion. All the negativity and doubt is wiped away and replaced with a new optimism. Jongwoon finally pulls back and watches as Ryeowook’s eyes flutter open. He vaguely notices that Ryeowook looks rejuvenated, not as worn down and exhausted as he had that morning. He smiles and pecks Ryeowook on the lips again.
“We’ll make this work, okay?” he prompts, nudging Ryeowook in the ribs. Ryeowook smiles, eyes crinkling into little crescent moons. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
Jongwoon rolls off to the side and rests his head on the pillow, arms not leaving Ryeowook’s body. He tugs Ryeowook with him until Ryeowook shifts and settles comfortably against him. His body is warm against Jongwoon’s and his arms provide a comforting weight as they wind around his back. They’ve shared a bed countless times over the years, and even this past week, but never has it been so comfortable. Finally, without the awkwardness of keeping a respectful distance, or the tension of unspoken secrets between them, they can fully relax. Jongwoon presses a final kiss to Ryeowook’s forehead and allows his eyes to slide shut.
It’s the best night’s sleep he has ever had.
…