Fragile as We Lie [Kyuhyun/Eunhyuk]

[haellucinations]

Pairings: Kyuhyun/Eunhyuk, side!Donghae/Sungmin, past!Kangin/Leeteuk, past!Hankyung/Heechul
Length: 7,145 words
Genre: Angst, romance, fluff, smut
Rating: R
Notes: Title from 'One Day I Slowly Floated Away' by Eisley. This was surprisingly soothing to write. I officially adore KyuHyuk so much <3
Summary: Hyukjae always seems to wander into Kyuhyun's bed, and Kyuhyun doesn't mind. Not one bit.



--

The first time Hyukjae wanders into Kyuhyun's bedroom, it's cold outside.

It's not the kind of cold that can be swayed by an extra comforter on the bed or a heating pad or even one of the pairs of woolly socks that Leeteuk stuffs in their stockings every Christmas.

(Not that Leeteuk had tucked in said woolly socks in their stockings this year - they hadn't done much this holiday season. One missing from their number was enough explanation of that.)

It's the type of cold that seeps past the lumpy layers of insulated clothing, lingers over the goose-fleshed skin, and then delves past the epidermis and into ones very bloodstream. It's a cold that Kyuhyun can't shake (and, although he doesn't know it, Hyukjae has trouble pushing away as well). He associates coldness with feeling empty and sad; both emotions that he feels much too often for someone with as tight knit a brotherhood as he.

Kyuhyun is sure - no, fucking positive - that this bone-shattering, hand-trembling, brain-weakening cold has little to do with the actual frigid weather and everything to do with the absence of his hyung, one of his brothers.

He lays in bed, his grip on the extra comforter shaky yet determinedly vise-like, his eyes shut tightly, because opening them would expose his eyes to the cold gray gleam leaking past the curtains he hadn't the mind to shut last night, to the messy room that was so unlike neat freak Sungmin that it hurt him to glimpse.

His body is supine, flat against the squeaky mattress, facing the stippled, bumpy ceiling when his ears catch the quiet sound of the door creaking open and breath that keeps catching in its breather's throat. His auditory system also captures the distinct sound of a sniffle, but Kyuhyun hopes against everything that this person isn't about to break down, because one more sight of a brother crying will make him succumb to tears that no one would have any inkling as to what they should do to stop them.

Because Kyuhyun has stopped crying since his accident - he learned that crying does nothing except make you feel worse about yourself. And a weakened self esteem is the last thing he wants, not when the very foundation of his life seems to be crumbling beneath his quivering fingertips.

He hears the worn floorboards straining under the weight of the intruder, and for a blind second he hopes the person is seeking Sungmin, evenly breathing in the next bed over, who would be more than helpful in effectively comforting his obviously inconsolable bandmate. Kyuhyun thinks he has the emotional range of a thimble and an even worse sense of when others need his fumbling assistance.

(Of course, this is all in Kyuhyun's mind - he's even more emotional than the boy now creeping over to his bed.)

A shadow has fallen over Kyuhyun's closed lids, a stark difference from the pale white, freezing light still insistently shining against the closed windowpane.

“Kyuhyun?”

The voice is broken and it almost makes Kyuhyun cry to hear it sound so desolate, not when it's always full of laughter, his only care being to make someone laugh along with him, even if it is just for one transient second. The voice that even when it is clogged with tears, they are always tears of elation, tears sparked by one of Super Junior's accomplishments, not one of Super Junior's losses that is greater than any award they hadn't succeeded in earning, than any failed performance or dance rehearsal.

He should feign sleep; he should roll over and ignore him; he should tug the sheets over his head and wait for his hyung to leave, still desolate, still devastated. All for his selfish inability to help others.

Instead, his eyes flicker open in a way that blatantly tells the forlorn wanderer that he was awake the whole time.

Hyukjae stands there, sockless feet curling on the chilly floor, pajama pants so childish in both their monkey design and their length - a good two inches of shaved ankle is exposed. His T-shirt is frayed and stained with globs of food and drink and drool and god-knows-whatever-else that the countless amounts of tumbles in the wash haven't rinsed away. His fists are balled, bouncing against the fuzzy material of his old, over-used pajamas that Kyuhyun knows provides an inexplicable comfort for his hyung, even if Kyuhyun thought they were ugly and immature.

But it's his face that has Kyuhyun grappling the edge of the sheet and pulling it back, making room in the cool confines of his bed for the shaking man hunched in front of him.

Hyukjae is crying, silent beads of moisture pooling in his narrow eyes, the deep brown color quivering like dark ponds threatening to overflow from too much bitter rainfall, before the tears escape, trailing over the sharp lines of his cheekbones. Some travel down the red-tinged nose, some drip down the expanse of his pale, defined face and onto the trembling pillows of his lips, all before quivering at the base of his chin and falling onto the ragged, already stained shirt, adding new waterlogged memories to the fabric.

Rubbing his nose with web of his hand, Hyukjae climbs into bed with the uncertain maknae, immune to the other's rigid posture and clenching hands, wordlessly separating Kyuhyun's formerly locked arms before shimmying into them. Kyuhyun almost gets a mouthful of the top of Hyukjae's matted, brown, messy locks when the older tucks his head between Kyuhyun's smooth shoulder and round chin, right against the hard plane of his chest.

“Hyukjae,” the name rumbles deep in his throat, surely reverberating in his hyung's ear, “Why do you think I can comfort you?” He blames the early hour and his temporary state of bleary half-awakeness for his bluntly phrased question, because the mere thought of asking Hyukjae this question while fully awake terrifies him.

“Do you not want me here?”

And Hyukjae sounds so thoroughly sad and hollow that Kyuhyun is almost too quick to answer, “I didn't mean it that way, Hyukjae.” He hopes his real sentiments of You're the only person I want here aren't as thinly veiled as he thinks they are, even if he is quite confused as to why that sentiment is even resonating so poignantly in his head.

Hyukjae is appeased with his answer, his hold of Kyuhyun's waist tightening and his nose brushing the fabric of Kyuhyun's own tattered night shirt. Neither have been paying much attention to the aesthetic part of their appearance; simply looking like they had been sleeping more than four hours a night was hard work enough. What they wore to bed held even less importance.

Kyuhyun's shirt, hunter green, with a deep V that reveals his raised collarbone and the cold skin of his neck, that is too loose in the stomach area and too short in the hemline so that a sliver of his abdomen shows, reminds him of Hankyung; it was Hankyung's. He had borrowed it one night, when he couldn't find his own nightclothes and he was tired and Hankyung was friendly. And he hadn't given it back. A part of him is glad he didn't.

Kyuhyun hadn't realized the lull in their exchange until Hyukjae speaks again, hoarse and gravelly and so unlike his normal laughter-heavy intonation.

“I bet you thought I'd go to Donghae.”

Kyuhyun barely thinks. “Yeah, actually.”

Hyukjae's palms slide over the roomy material of Kyuhyun's shirt, plucking at a loose dark green thread and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He drops the stray fiber, same warm, welcoming hand slithering to Kyuhyun's own freezing appendages. Hyukjae grabs them, tentative and exuding heat that Kyuhyun needs, soothing and mitigating and everything that Kyuhyun wants.

He shivers, inexplicably and against his own will.

Dark eyelashes flutter downwards; Hyukjae's lids are shielding his eyes from Kyuhyun's view. He doesn't need to see them to know that he has stopped crying.

“Donghae isn't the only person who can comfort me, Kyuhyun-ah.” And he falls asleep, the tracks of moisture drying on his peaceful face, and Kyuhyun thinks that Hyukjae is the only person who can comfort him when he feels like he is about to break his two year 'no crying' streak, even if his hyung doesn't know it.

It's easier to block out the gray gleam from his window with such a warm body in his embrace.

--

It's weeks later that Hyukjae wanders into Kyuhyun and Sungmin's shared room again.

They have all finally become used to the fact that Hankyung left them; they are used to it, but it doesn't mean that they had to like it.

Heechul, in brutally honest fashion, has taken to snapping at them for no apparent reason and defiantly locking himself in his room, skipping the home-cooked meals that Ryeowook laboriously cooks with the intent of luring his hyung from the painful place where he and Hankyung had shared so many memories.

Kyuhyun suspects that Heechul is missing more than just a best friend.

He's sure the other members suspect it, too.

Hyukjae, along with many of the others, have started intruding upon Heechul's impassive, newfound hermit lifestyle; everyday, Hyukjae (and, more often than not, Donghae and Ryeowook who accompany him in tremulous moral support) hole themselves up in Heechul's room and attempt to cajole him into eating or talking or just spending time with his brothers. More often than not, they leave the room with a cold tray of food and trickles of moisture spilling from their red-rimmed eyes. It feels like they have lost two brothers rather than one.

Hyukjae knocks on Kyuhyun's door this time, early. Eight o'clock in the evening. A velvety blackness is swathing his bedroom, all of the lights turned out as he lays on his bed, taking advantage of the rare time he has to sleep.

He knows it's Hyukjae by the hestitant rap of the knuckles against the hardwood, the audible shuffling just a bit beyond the doorframe. “Come in,” he says into the dark, not really thinking when he grants Hyukjae admission. He barely has any coherent thoughts when it comes to Hyukjae, now that he thinks about it.

With Hyukjae's entrance comes a flood of light from the hallway, until the door is nudged shut again, same creak, same whining of the floorboards as Hyukjae toddles forward and into Kyuhyun's bed again.

“Lonely?” It is unlike Kyuhyun to be this welcoming of physical contact (with Hyukjae, his over sensitive, tear prone hyung, no less), but, then again, Hyukjae had always seemed to push him to these lengths.

Hyukjae's exhale hits his exposed adam's apple, and he hopes that his hyung doesn't notice how it bobs frantically when he swallows dryly as fingers twine in the hunter green fabric of his shirt. “Yeah. Do you mind -?”

“Of course I don't mind, Hyukjae.”

It's quiet for a while, and Kyuhyun thinks Hyukjae has gently dozed off. His hand freezes in its curious perusal of the strawberry scented strands of brown hair just right under his nose when the other speaks. “Heechul-hyung - he told me he loved Hankyung-hyung. Like, not as a brother.”

Kyuhyun's nails dig into Hyukjae's back as his arms wind closer to the skinnier man. He doesn't know why, but his heart feels like it's being strangled by an iron fist and his limbs are suddenly wobbly, even though he's laying down in his solid bed with an even more solid presence beside him. Then again, maybe it's the latter solid presence that's making him feel so goddamn flimsy in the first place.

“Oh.” It's the only word he can say; the only word he can say when something in his stupid heart and his slow brain have clicked. There's a perfectly logical reason for Hyukjae making him feel quite so lightheaded all the time, isn't there?

Hyukjae laughs bitterly, a sound that Kyuhyun never wants to hear again, because Hyukjae's laughs should be cheerful and lively and happy, never bitter or morbidly amused or unfeeling. “Then he regretted telling me of all people and practically threw me from his room.”

Kyuhyun has a part of his mind telling him to be angry at Heechul for treating his caring hyung so cruelly, but then he thinks of how he would feel if Hyukjae left.

He'd be much worse than Heechul-hyung.

“He's just angry. He'll be okay,” Kyuhyun soothes. Their legs are entangling under the sheets and their hands are twining and Kyuhyun is just so warm inside, his newfound mantra of Fuck, I love Hyukjae combined with their proximity setting his nerve endings alight. “He'll realize that Hankyung-hyung wouldn't have wanted him this way. Don't give up on him, Hyukjae. Hyung will be thankful in the end.”

The older laughs again, but this time Kyuhyun hears a remnant of its former amused quality. He thinks he might die from the fact that he's the one to scavenge it from the recesses of Hyukjae.

“When did you become so... nice, Kyuhyunnie?”

When I fell in love with you, Hyukjae. Only I have just realized it now and I want to just kiss you and say it'll be okay and that you're the reason I want to be so nice -

“I don't know,” is the answer he gives, and just through the way Hyukjae tilts his head back and smiles sympathetically at Kyuhyun, the maknae knows that his lie is transparent.

He's thankful that Hyukjae doesn't question it; instead, he falls asleep in Kyuhyun's arms again, and the younger is sure that his body has surely floated away somewhere because there's no way someone could feel this content.

--

They go from spending very little time together to every possible second with each other. Kyuhyun's not sure how it happens.

One second, Hyukjae is all over Donghae; the next, he's fused to Kyuhyun's side, poking him until he stops playing Starcraft just so could they could go out to eat together (a meal that Kyuhyun always ends up paying for, since Hyukjae is stingy), gazing cajolingly at him with an accompanying pout until he agrees to pull a prank with him, begging him to take the blame when said prank goes awry.

Kyuhyun thinks his willingness to go along with the monkey's antics is enough of a confession. He's sure the members know his painfully obvious, but so far unrequited, feelings for Hyukjae.

In fact, he knows that Heechul is aware, if the number of times he has told him to quit staring at Hyukjae's pretty delicious looking ass during practices is any indication. (Kyuhyun would be disgruntled, but he practically wants to cry from relief that Heechul is slowly getting back to his relentless teasing of the other members - but, of course, Cho Kyuhyun doesn't cry.)

The dorm is brighter with their newfound closeness. Leeteuk's face finally relaxes, his formerly constant verge-of-tears state dissipating with every giggle and nudge and unknowingly sappy gaze the evil pair share. Siwon's habit of trying to call Hankyung's disconnected phone fades - although Kyuhyun could sometimes hear him crying in the bathroom when his sworn brother doesn't answer. The others continue to lean on each other for support, but the overall air is not fraught with sorrow; rather, it's comfortable, as back to normal things can get when Hankyung is gone and Kangin is prohibited from doing activities with them.

Hyukjae is smiling, gums bared the way Kyuhyun loves them, when he enters without knocking, bounding over to Kyuhyun's unmade bed and jumping onto the mass of twisted sheets. Sungmin, who had been aimlessly strumming on his guitar, taps the hollow body with a wry grin on his face before laying it on his neatly laundered sheets.

“I'll leave you two alone,” he says succinctly, and Kyuhyun blushes behind the screen of his open computer when Sungmin winks leeringly at him. Hyukjae doesn't notice, seeing as he's now tugging on Kyuhyun's arm, somehow materializing behind Kyuhyun's computer chair (the one with the slightly busted wheel and the cotton protruding through holes made by his own carelessness and the arm sagging to the floor).

“You need a new chair.”

“I know.” His mouth is quirking into a grin.

“You also need to teach me how to play Starcraft properly. That, or you need to play something against me. Like Halo, or Call of Duty. Because I rock at those games,” he says it in that Eunhyuk self assured way, nodding his head in affirmation of his own statement. Kyuhyun wants to kiss that confident press of his lips away.

“I know.” Kyuhyun finds himself propped up by the headboard of his bed (this is Hyukjae's doing, even though Kyuhyun says it's physically impossible to play Starcraft with the touchpad on his laptop), Hyukjae practically breathing down his neck as he eyes every twitch of Kyuhyun's hands as he smoothly blasts the head of some vicious creature cleanly off, pixelated blood dribbling out. Their fingers overlap as Hyukjae stubbornly reaches forward to try his hand at killing one of the ravaging beasts in their tracks.

“I got this,” he asserts, all joking confidence, arms touching (hip to shoulder, Kyuhyun notes absently) and Kyuhyun feels faint.

“Wrong button -” Kyuhyun begins warningly, while inside he knows he's fighting a pathetically lost cause. The digitized man has fallen off of a cliff that had been meters away from where Kyuhyun had settled the little avatar.

“Oops,” Hyukjae giggles, covering his mouth with the hand that had caused the character to run amok. And Kyuhyun can't help but join in, computer forgotten as it slides off his lap and onto the bed, his arms wrapping around Hyukjae as he chuckles into his neck. Hyukjae's head is thrown back against the bedstand, giggles now subsiding into breathless, weak laughter, his fingers clutching Kyuhyun's arm as he calms down.

It isn't until Hyukjae has thoroughly massacred himself at least twenty times that Kyuhyun gently pushes the laptop closed, not even bothering to save the shitfest that was their so badly failed game of Starcraft. He slides the computer onto the night table, one lanky arm securing his beloved Macbook, orbs surely twinkling as he turns back to Hyukjae.

His heart melts into a liquidy glop of mush at the sight of Hyukjae's eyes half-lidded in exhaustion, perfectly pink mouth parted endearingly in a slack faced expression before his lips turn upwards in an undeniable gummy smile. “You want to sleep here?” Kyuhyun asks, fingertips already inching towards the sheets.

“Do you mind?”

Kyuhyun somehow gets close enough to bump noses with Hyukjae. His heart catches in his throat at his riskiness, but Hyukjae merely grins all the more brighter, eyes crinkling and cheekbones set to fly to the sky.

“When do I ever mind, Hyukkie?”

Red climbs to both of their cheeks at the newly minted nickname, and it's with a sheepish sort of look that Hyukhae asks shyly, “So I'm Hyukkie now, Kyu-ah?”

Kyuhyun thinks about blaming the loud pounding in his ears in his negligence to answer the question in an orderly manner, but instead busies himself with working the blankets from under them, worrying his full bottom lip. “You call me Kyuhyunnie,” he points out softly, gulping when Hyukjae wriggles under the warm comforters with him.

“I guess we're even then, Kyuhyunnie.” He catches one last toothy smile before he pulls the chain of the lamp.

They fall asleep in such a position that Kyuhyun isn't sure where he ends and Hyukjae begins, and his last wavering, waking thought is that there is no way that is this an ordinary friendship. He hopes he's right.

-

“Hurt him and I kill you.”

Kyuhyun awakes to that calmly uttered statement a few days later, practically blind with bleariness and his arm crushed under Hyukjae's bare torso. His shirt has risen up. Kyuhyun flushes and adjusts Hankyung's forgotten shirt on his own frame before he remembers the vicious undercurrent lacing the terse sentence and looks up.

Sungmin is sitting on his neatly made bed, fully dressed and legs crossed, somehow making the feminine position look imposingly menacing. A single eyebrow is raised imperiously, as if awaiting Kyuhyun's response. Kyuhyun only groans, rubbing at his blurry vision. “What?”

“Hyukjae has slept in your bed for a week and a half now. You cuddle like a married couple and flirt like two overgrown teenagers. I know what's going through your mind, Cho Kyuhyun. Hurt him and I kill you.” Sungmin sends him one last glower before storming to the door, leaving Kyuhyun in open mouthed shock.

His hand is reaching for the knob when he twirls around again, this time with a startingly softened expression that has Kyuhyun's heart racing in anticipation. Sungmin smiles, and if Kyuhyun's eyes aren't deceiving him, he looks quite close to crying. “It's adorable how much you love him, Kyuhyun-ah.” He's left to his own paralyzing surprise and embarrassment when Sungmin chokes and leaves the room.

He really is obvious, isn't he? Not that the last week or two hadn't made his love anything but apparent.

It is true; Hyukjae has been weaseling his way under Kyuhyun's sheets, and while if anyone else had approached the maknae with the slightest suggestion of sharing his bed, he would have kicked them out of his room without a second thought. But, because of Hyukjae asking if he could sleep with Kyuhyun in front of everyone back stage after an episode of Star King, they all know (not that they hadn't already) that Kyuhyun harbors a small, or actually quite giant, crush on the sensitive dancer.

And Kyuhyun's knowledge of it simply grows along with theirs at having the slender, delicate man in his arms every night. He laughs as Hyukjae cracks jokes into the pillow, halfway asleep and drooling. He blushes and stammers when Hyukjae, drool still dribbling down the corner of his mouth, wriggles his warm body closer to Kyuhyun's and wraps his legs around Kyuhyun's waist. He laughs some more when Hyukjae's second wind hits him like a stack of bricks and he is suddenly crafting silly, impromptu raps for Kyuhyun's enjoyment, demanding that they play a game or prank Sungmin or get a midnight snack (all through the fabricated lines he spits so fluidly that Kyuhyun is almost jealous). He pouts and grumbles when they argue (although it's almost always a play fight and he's not really mad at Hyukjae) until Hyukjae's nose is nuzzling into his neck or a joking tussle erupts in the twisted sheets of his bed until Sungmin threatens to hang the two of them if they interrupt his beauty sleep with their loud tomfoolery.

And with every moment that Kyuhyun feels like he's falling a bit harder than he already has, he feels more fragile, like his heart is delicately spun glass, his emotions on the line for Hyukjae's taking. And he's scared, and he's only half cold because of this heavy fear; the rest of him is quite warm, because even though he feels fragile and delicate and all those other things that are weak and breakable, he likes feeling that way because Hyukjae is the reason for it.

-

Things turn bleak again all too soon.

He should have expected it; happiness has come too easily nowadays.

Leeteuk is crying again, heaving sobs over hot plates of fried kimchi rice (because it's all Ryeowook can muster up the willpower to cook - seeing their leader so broken with hardly any fight left in him has rendered him nearly as distraught).

Heechul and Siwon surprisingly band together to snap Leeteuk from the numb reverie he seems to have fallen into at the newly dealt, terribly cruel hand he has been forced play with, made ten times worse by the whispered secret Hyukjae tells Kyuhyun that night as they lay huddled into each other for warmth, Sungmin tossing fitfully only a bed away. “Heechul-hyung told me that Teukie loved Kangin like... he loved Hankyung. But I don't know if he was just guessing or well... certain.”

Tears slide down the expanse of Kyuhyun's neck as Hyukjae clutches needily to the maknae's form, seeking warmth that only Kyuhyun could bring.

But Kyuhyun is cold again because Hyukjae is crying.

“Kyuhyun, what's happening? Everyone is leaving. First Hankyung-hyung, now Kangin-hyung. Who's next? Is Teukie-hyung going to leave us? He can't take anymore heartbreak, Kyuhyun-ah. We're falling apart and there's nothing we can do and I'm scared. So scared.”

He feels himself break before he has the chance to stop it.

“Hyukjae, I don't know what's happening, we j-just -” And he doesn't know what he was trying to even say before staggering sobs overcome him and he's crying, crying more than he ever has, crying into the slowly soddening collar of Hyukjae's shirt. He call tell by Hyukjae's stiffened form that he is surprised, until arms are wrapping around him and pulling him up and gentle, soft hands are tilting his head back until their eyes are meeting, Kyuhyun's bottomless ones two wells of watery black, Hyukjae's brown ones glowing lightly through the swirling of moisture.

Kyuhyun makes to shield his face. “Don't look at me, I shouldn't be crying. I should be comforting you. You need me,” he blubbers, too vulnerable and he hates the feeling. He feels like a child who can't wrangle in their sobs after scraping their knees and dropping their ice cream on the dirty ground of the park, except the last person he wants is his mother and the only person he wants is Hyukjae. He remembers why he hates crying; it's like his heart is taking a beating that was better off avoided and completely unneccessary, his head feels clogged and stuffy, and his hands are shaking as they clutch at the fabric of the same shirt he has been wearing simply because Hankyung gave it to him.

“Kyuhyun, look at me.” Hyukjae's voice is shockingly firm, and Kyuhyun glances up against his better will, chin embarrassingly trembling, the sensations of fragility and fear even more emphasized and screaming in his every fiber of his being, his body becoming all too acutely aware of the warm sheets and his worn mattress and Hyukjae. Hyukjae, who is blinking back more tears as he smiles, watery and entrancing, as he strokes the acne-scarred skin of Kyuhyun's cheek. “We need each other.”

Kyuhyun thinks he may have let a noise out; it may have been a cry, or a sob, or a desperate plea - it could have been words or just a sound of need. Whatever it is, it's mortifying even in his despondent state, but Hyukjae just grins, hopeless and reckless, as he leans downward.

The space between him and Kyuhyun is obliterated in the span of a second, and they're kissing, and it's wet from tears, and breathy from sobs and insuppressible disbelief that they're actually kissing, and just so desperate that Kyuhyun just props himself up on shaky elbows on either side of Hyukjae and hovers, mumbling something unintelligible against Hyukjae's mouth. He feels palms, always warm and allaying, slide up his back before settling near the nape of his neck and toying with the soft hair there, tugging and stroking and wanting him closer.

He can't breath properly, but it doesn't stop Kyuhyun from deepening the kiss, tears dripping onto Hyukjae's cheeks as the other moans when his tongue is gently sucked into the maknae's searching mouth. Kyuhyun's sure that saliva has joined the moisture rolling down their faces, but he doesn't care, not when Hyukjae is pulling away and all he wants is to stay melded by the lips forever.

They laugh breathlessly, back to square one, Kyuhyun looking up at Hyukjae and Hyukjae looking down, except now their lips are swollen and hair mussed just a little.

Kyuhyun is sure he is a little desperate sounding, and a little hopeless sounding as well, when his eyes refuse to stop leaking and he says in a voice fraught with impossible love, “God, I just love you, hyung.”

He forgets that Hyukjae is an even worse crier than he is, but is quickly reminded of that when his face is wrenched up once more, and his cheeks are bombarded with more tears that aren't his as Hyukjae murmurs against his lips, “Kyuhyun, I've been waiting. For months.”

Their tongues are introduced again until Hyukjae is the first to draw away for a second time. “I love you, too, Kyuhyunnie.”

It's only the snore from across the room that reminds them that Sungmin is only the next bed over. It's that snore that has Hyukjae and Kyuhyun laughing, and Kyuhyun collecting his hands from their perch on Hyukjae's ass. The position they fall asleep in isn't much different from any other night's, but just the thought that Hyukjae is his now makes everything different.

--

It's oddly cool for a summer day, but Kyuhyun isn't cold at all. If anything, the climate in Kyuhyun's room is positively sweltering.

He hungrily drinks in the state of undress that Hyukjae is currently in, shirt tossed away so hurriedly that it lands under Sungmin's bed, pants hanging low and unbuttoned on his tautly musculed hips.

“Stop staring and get your maknae ass over here,” Hyukjae says, a cheeky lilt to his voice and brow, smirk twisting his lips. Kyuhyun's shirt (a black, tight fitting one) is off and his pants are down before Hyukjae can even blink; his own pants are gone in an even less span of time.

By now, Kyuhyun has lost track of every time they have shared a bed, but today is the first time that Sungmin is gone for the day, out on a date with a 'cryptically' described person with brown hair, an amazing chest - I mean, nice boobs, you know, fucking great hands and nose and childlike eyes and god, Kyuhyun he's - I MEAN SHE'S. Not he's! (This went on until Hyukjae strolled into the room, loping over to where Kyuhyun was lounging on his bed, and told their frazzled hyung that Donghae was waiting for him outside the building. Sungmin blushed accordingly before fleeing the room.)

Despite sleeping together night after night, the pair had yet to do anything too naughty other than make out in stolen moments in the bathroom or a closet or in bed while Sungmin was out or, when they were feeling especially risky, jacked each other off in the shower amidst silencing, languid kisses, swallowing each others moans and whimpers. And then sometimes one of them took the initiative to go down on their knees while the other fruitlessly gripped the slippery shower tiles and tried not to scream.

Hence the reason they are feverish in their actions, Kyuhyun's hands snaking underneath Hyukjae's boxers before his knees even hit the bed, lips meeting in a hurry, teeth clashing and mouths smacking in a crude, uncultured way (but really just sends a rush of blood down Kyuhyun's pants). Like either of the two care, let alone notice; they're much too preoccupied with every aspect of the other to pay much attention to menial things such as their surroundings.

A rap on the door almost has Kyuhyun sprawling off the bed.

“Can you two be quiet in there? We're trying to do stuff out here and hearing your whorish moans isn't helping matters.” Kyuhyun can see the smirk on Heechul's face as he slinks away, a self-indulgent smirk curling his plump lips.

All he can think about is how much he doesn't want to take his hands out of Hyukjae's boxers.

--

Leeteuk is predictably emotional at dinner after the two emerge from the room (still sexless but sated from a frustrated romp in the shower), scolding them for not telling the group while wiping his eyes with the sleeve of a disgruntled Heechul's shirt.

Heechul doesn't care, as long as he doesn't have to hear the sounds of their 'fornication' ever again, although Kyuhyun is quick to snap and say that Heechul had butted in at that moment. Heechul is annoyingly proud.

Kyuhyun and Hyukjae don't really get to see the others reactions, since Sungmin and Donghae are promptly found making out against the counter as Sungmin cooks - rather, burns - dinner, and all the spotlight is taken from them.

(Kyuhyun does receive many threats - some anonymously slipped under his door, others said directly to his face (i.e. Heechul and Leeteuk) - that if he hurt Hyukjae in any way, shape, or form, he'd be flayed within an inch of his life, drowned in Ddangkkoma's tank, trampled on by cats, and left in a box for a group of angry aliens to find.)

Dinner is a rowdy affair, as usual, but with love in their midst everything seems to be happier by such a large amount that Kyuhyun feels it somewhere deep in the region of his heart that houses Hankyung and Kangin and their early days when they worked hard and didn't care about anything but each other despite the pain and blood and tears that went into their performance. Leeteuk is smiling genuinely, and not because he has to, even though it's only been a week since Kangin left. Heechul is admonishing Sungmin and Donghae for making out in such clear view, and then praising them for their audacity. Ryeowook is shoveling food onto everyone's plates, his grin threatening to break his cheekbones, as Yesung and Siwon pinch his cheeks lovingly. Shindong and Hyukjae are talking over their half empty plates of food, laughing over something Shindong said, when Hyukjae glances at Kyuhyun, the silent watcher of their camaraderie, smiles his gummy smile, and laces their fingers together before turning back to Shindong.

Kyuhyun feels warm, a goofy smile playing about his lips, and he knows that Hyukjae knows and shares his joy when his hand is squeezed and his foot is nudged with Hyukjae's toe under the table.

Later, Hyukjae laughs and kisses Kyuhyun, falling into bed with him that night with a painfully large smile on his face.

--

Kyuhyun likes that when they first make love, in the same bed that illuminates their present romance and their past sadness and their future, forever love, it ends up being unplanned and unexpected and just so perfect that he wants to shoot himself at how amazingly things seem to fall into place with Hyukjae.

Sungmin is mysteriously gone from the dorm, as is his guitar and, after nosy inspection by Hyukjae, multiple changes of clothing and possibly multiple pairs of underwear.

They take a second to share a laugh over that fact before they realize, startlingly in sync, that they have the dorm all to themselves.

Hyukjae's shirt is back under Sungmin's vacant bed, and Kyuhyun is immediately straddling him, rocking his hips and rattling the bedstead, the coarse denim fabric of his jeans providing friction that makes Hyukjae buck his hips.

Kyuhyun loves seeing him like this; loves watching, fascinated, as Hyukjae's exquisite neck strains back when the rough pad of his thumb ghosts over a nipple; loves when Hyukjae drags him by the neck for a hard kiss, when he gasps, incoherent and reveling it in, into Kyuhyun's full mouth; loves when his back arches with pleasure and his abs flex and tense under his roving fingertips.

“Kyuhyun, shirt, gone, now, please, do it.”

He laughs at Hyukjae's breathless, succinct demands, but adheres anyway, stripping the sweaty fabric from his frame.

“Good. Now take our pants off and we can have a party,” Hyukjae jokes in a winded sort of voice, although the way he works the button of his pants open tells Kyuhyun that no, he's not kidding at all.

So Kyuhyun fulfills that request as well, standing up to let his tightened jeans and slightly damp underwear to fall to the ground, before hooking his fingers in the beltloops of Hyukjae's pants and tugging, licking his lips when he sees the outline of a hardened length beneath the snug boxers.

“Hurry,” Hyukjae whines when Kyuhyun keeps looking but doesn't make a move to discard his underwear. He bucks his hips off of the bed. “Don't you want to see what's underneath, Kyuhyunnie?”

There's a little bit of evil laughing on Hyukjae's part, until, of course, Kyuhyun smirks and yanks his boxers cleanly off, down the pale legs and calves, balling them and throwing them perfectly into the empty trash can by Sungmin's bed.

“You won't be needing those.” Hyukjae looks torn between laughter and fearful anticipation until Kyuhyun is between his legs, kissing up his soft thighs. He shivers and melts under Kyuhyun's hard presses of his lips, keens when he nibbles on the tender flesh, and practically screams when Kyuhyun tongues the base of his arousal, hastening with scrabbling fingers to pull him up by the hair.

Kyuhyun doesn't question it when Hyukjae sits up, a glint of determination in his doe eyes when he beckons him with a silent crook of his finger. Their lips meet as the younger gets into a kneeling position, bracing himself on Hyukjae's broad shoulders, loving the feeling of all that warmth seeping through his hands, immersing himself in Hyukjae's tongue running along the roof of his mouth before he's on his back.

Hyukjae smirks devilishly, slithering down Kyuhyun's body, his sly grin only strengthening when his own excitement and then his muscular torso grind gently onto Kyuhyun's already leaking hardness. Kyuhyun hisses and then moans, squirming with the new sensations.

The older settles himself between Kyuhyun's legs, now no stranger to blow jobs; which he proves by leaning down with another glance of glittering eyes in his boyfriend's direction before his mouth sinks forward. He takes immense satisfaction in the sole fact that he is the one making Kyuhyun growl, he the one making Kyuhyun writhe and contort and feel so good, hollowing his cheeks and moving his head and pressing the flat of his tongue on the salty, wet tip like his life depends on it.

With a brief cry, Kyuhyun shakily commands him to stop, before Hyukjae is beside him, letting him roll on top of his naked body as they become connected by the lips once more.

Kyuhyun's hand blindly gropes for the lube on his bedside table as the other clutches his lover's hip, langorously grinding their lower halves together as they share the same breaths through every flick of the tongue, every bump of their soft lips.

He prepares Hyukjae slowly, noting every hoarse gasp, studying his expressive face, going faster when demanded and slower when it's wordlessly requested; just one glance at Hyukjae's pained eyes tell him when to be careful, just as one sudden shift from discomfort to pure ecstasy tells him that Hyukjae is ready.

He's mindful as he enters him, all rattling breathing and trembling limbs, holding tightly to Hyukjae's legs, one hooked over his shoulder and the other squeezing his hips, urging him forward. Hyukjae seeks out any bit of sheet he could find, twisting thin cotton between his grappling fingers. Kyuhyun knows it hurts, so he leans down and plants little kisses along any patch of skin he can reach: his sharp cheekbones, his long nose, his prominent jawline, his madly fluttering pulse point, and finally his parted lips, drawing the pants spilling from between their softness.

The heat encompassing Kyuhyun is as foreign as it is explosive, but he doesn't move an inch, remaining seated in him until Hyukjae finally mutters in a hoarse whisper with his eyes pressed closed, “Move, now, Kyuhyun, please.”

Kyuhyun's ensuing laugh dies in his throat when he slides out and then back in, a groan forcing its way out at the sensation. Hyukjae cries for more, weakly thrusting upwards, nails scrawling jagged imprints along Kyuhyun's back.

Neither of them last too long when Kyuhyun grips Hyukjae's hips and moves in wild abandon, murmurs of love and how fucking amazing this feels coupled with the laves of Kyuhyun's tongue on Hyukjae's sweaty neck, Hyukjae's own frantic calls drowning his words out. Hand wrapping around Hyukjae, Kyuhyun jerks him off erratically, his thrusts and the frenetic movements of his hands mismatched and untimely, but it doesn't matter, not at all, not when Hyukjae lets out a desperate moan and comes all over Kyuhyun's hand, and the younger is right behind him, releasing into the tightly clenching walls of his lover.

He almost doesn't want to detach their perspiration drenched bodies, because doing so would terminate a connection that Kyuhyun was hesitant to break. It isn't until they regain the ability to think that Hyukjae tiredly nudges Kyuhyun's shoulder, a playful hint to his voice as he says, “Exit where you came from, Kyuhyun. That's it.” He's cajoling him, and Kyuhyun is laughing. “My ass hurts and we're not doing this again if you don't pull out.”

“Fine, fine,” Kyuhyun says, placing a ghosting kiss over Hyukjae's adam's apple before collapsing on the bed next to him.

“So, that was incredible,” Hyukjae breathes out, searching for Kyuhyun's hand and interlacing their dewy palms. Kyuhyun exhales a laugh, wiping his other sticky hand on the comforter.

“I wish that had been the first thing you said after you came.”

His nose is flicked, although Hyukjae is suppressing his own mirth. “Like I needed to boost your ego any more, Kyuhyunnie.”

“Shut up, Hyukkie,” he grumbles, the faintest of content smiles morphing his mouth as he rolls over, naked body curling into Hyukjae's side. “Can we sleep now?”

“No. We can relax for three minutes and then we are going to shower. There's no way I'm falling asleep with your... stuff dripping down my thighs.”

“Cum, Hyukjae. It's called c-”

He shushes him. “Yes, yes, I know what it's called. Now it's quiet time.”

Kyuhyun nuzzles his nose into Hyukjae's shoulder, enjoying the silence and the heat emanating from his bandmate's skinny frame, and for the dozenth time Kyuhyun feels fragile, because he has lost all control of his own steadily beating heart. And as Hyukjae's gentle touch skids along his waist and an innocent kiss is brushed along the shell of his ear, Kyuhyun doesn't think he can ever feel cold again. Fragile, yes, but that is a feeling he can deal with because of Hyukjae.