the five steps to avoiding
Title: the five steps to avoiding
Pairing: Youngjae/Zelo
Genre: romance
Rating: PG
Warnings: a bit of language
Summary: Junhong's afraid he likes Youngjae a lot more than he should.
Note: 4,896 words. Unbeta-ed because I never beta anything anymore.
Junhong honestly has no idea when it starts.
He thinks maybe it was something he did; something he said. Maybe it was because of the world tour-all of those crash performances, grabbing Youngjae’s collar and shaking him until he smiled. Playing with him on stage until the previous awkwardness he felt around him diminished and morphed into something new. Something comfortable. All of those times he looked over on stage and saw Youngjae staring back at him, laughing, smiling, making faces.
Those times he looked over and nearly growled whenever he saw Youngjae playing with someone else, whenever he turned and saw him looking at Jongup or Himchan instead.
Maybe-Junhong thinks-if he hadn’t have been so friendly before, if he hadn’t have broken that barrier, that protection, they would be fine now. He wouldn’t have to care as much as he did; he wouldn’t notice the sudden change in Youngjae. The subtle way his face shines when Junhong talks to him or even about him. Maybe he wouldn’t be so conscious about how often Youngjae touches him-a simple graze of a hand against his arm or the simmering touch of his cheek against his shoulder.
Maybe Junhong wouldn’t have started liking him.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to avoid him to make it stop.
-
Step 1: pretend he has no effect over you.
-
Junhong thinks it can’t be that hard. He’s perfectly fine with pretending. Fine with acting.
He figures pretending it doesn’t affect him as much is the best thing for them. The best thing for Youngjae. Just as long as nothing changes; just as long as Youngjae doesn’t get hurt.
(But the older man always has to make things so difficult.)
When Junhong’s laying down on Jongup’s bed, listening to music, Youngjae comes crashing into the room.
“Junhong!” The younger hears, and he breathes to cool the heat in his chest, the sudden way his awareness flares, and he sees Youngjae, smiling. He almost can’t breathe, almost has the breath catch unbearably in his throat, but he doesn’t let it. He’s good at pretending. Good at faking. Good at avoiding the look on Youngjae’s face when he doesn’t immediately greet him back. “Junhong? What’s that look for?”
“It’s nothing.” Junhong replies, as easily as he can. He can feel the excitement radiating off the vocalist’s form, and to calm himself down, Junhong fiddles with the mp3 player in his hand. A song plays through his headphones, but strangely, he has no idea what it is. No idea when all he can hear is the slight imbalance of Youngjae’s breath. He wonders what he’s been doing, why he was so excited he ran straight to Junhong; he doesn’t look at Youngjae once though. “Hey, hyung.” He finally greets, looking around the room-anywhere but at Youngjae with those eyes, those lips, and the way his hair is mussed at the front.
(And okay, he might be looking now. He might even be staring.
But that’s okay, because he’s good at pretending. He’s good at acting.
Youngjae can’t tell.)
“Did you come from the practice room or something?” Junhong asks, the hold he has on his music player tightening when Youngjae gently pushes at his shoulder, silently telling him to move over. When Junhong doesn’t listen to him, the older man purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows and trying not to pout. Junhong finds it unbearable. “What?”
“I want to sit on the bed with you.” The vocalist replies, and Junhong envies how nonchalant he is.
Junhong tilts his head in the direction of the bunk just centimeters away. “There’s a bed over there.”
“Yeah, but that’s Himchan hyung’s,” Youngjae points out, making another attempt to push Junhong to the side, “you know how Himchan hyung is about his bed.”
“Then why don’t you go in your own bed.”
“You’re not even in your own bed,” Youngjae deadpans, staring at Junhong with pointed eyes. The younger boy resists the urge to blush, opting to turn his music up instead. Pretending he can’t hear. Pretending he can’t feel Youngjae pushing at his shoulder or see him getting increasingly annoyed. Pretending it doesn’t bother him, “fine.” The vocalist finally says. crossing his arms and huffing.
Junhong thinks he’s going to walk away.
Instead he climbs onto his legs, sitting criss crossed in his lap.
Junhong pretends he isn’t blushing.
“Hyung, what are you doing?” He chokes, glaring, biting the inside of his cheeks when Youngjae tosses him a smug smirk. The older man simply makes himself comfortable, stretching his legs out on either side of Junhong and laughing when the younger boy splutters, ripping his earbuds out of his ears, threatening to get up and toss him off.
“You wouldn’t move.” Youngjae says, and for a split second, he looks vulnerable. He sounds hurt.
Junhong has to pretend he doesn’t hear it. Has to pretend that his heart doesn’t ache and his hands don’t want to reach over and tug him closer.
“Sorry.” Junhong apologizes, a mere mumble that makes Youngjae smile at him.
Without a warning, the older man reaches over and takes the mp3 player from his hands, grabbing at one of the earbuds and carefully reaching over to put one in Junhong’s ear. He feels him brushing at the side of his hair, searching for his ear, and Junhong feels his heart stop when Youngjae’s cold hand grazes his cheek bone. “It’s okay,” Youngjae says, putting the other earbud into his own ear and sifting through the different playlists Junhong has on his music player. His eyelashes flutter against the shade of the top bunk, and Junhong almost reaches over to brush his bangs away. Before he can, Youngjae looks up at him and grins. “I like this song.” He exclaims.
Coffee shop plays in his left ear, and Junhong snorts.
Youngjae continues, undeterred, “I like the lead vocalist.”
Junhong rolls his eyes, snatching away his mp3 player. “The maknae isn’t so bad either.” He murmurs, and Youngjae laughs, playfully shoving at his shoulder.
“Yeah,” He finally agrees, once he smothers his laughter with a fond smile, “I think he’s pretty cute.”
Junhong has to swallow to make the lump in his throat disappear.
When he feels a blush burning his cheeks, he finally realizes that pretending isn’t working as much as he hoped it would.
-
Step 2: ignore him until it goes away.
-
Junhong thinks this step is harder than the last. He isn’t sure how well he’ll be able to do it, but he’s willing to try if it means not feeling this way.
He feels wrong, like he’s ruining everything with a simple feeling, and he doesn’t want to go back to that-that awkwardness. When Youngjae would look at him and turn away.
Because that’s how things work when you like someone. That’s how things always turn out when it all comes to an end.
Junhong doesn’t want that to happen. More than anything, Junhong won’t let that happen.
So when Junhong sees Youngjae heading toward him, he turns to talk to Jongup.
And he ignores the way Youngjae’s face falls.
“Hyung,” Junhong exclaims, voice a tad bit higher than he’s used to, and Jongup turns, apparently oblivious, “how’s your dancing coming along?”
He almost cringes at how obvious he’s being, but he keeps his focus on Jongup’s curious gaze, keeps focus on that so that the look Youngjae has on his face wouldn’t hurt as much. “I think it’s coming along pretty well?” Jongup smiles, tilting his head with that signature look in his eyes. “I mean, I haven’t been doing anything different.”
“Really?” Junhong asks, voice booming, louder than he really means it to be, and Jongup flinches back in surprise, smile still in place despite that. “Haven’t you been working on that thing?”
“What... thing...?”
“You know, the thing.”
Jongup looks so thoughtful, Junhong almost feels bad for confusing him. “I’m sorry, Junhong, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says hesitantly, looking apologetic, like he’s somehow failed Junhong by not remembering the nonexistent thing Junhong keeps talking about.
Junhong almost bows then, almost breaks and apologizes. Instead he glances over at Youngjae and grabs Jongup’s hand. “Here, let’s go to the practice room; I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”
He walks out the door without a second thought about Youngjae, but it’s still not enough to erase the look on his face from his memory.
-
“What was that about?” Jongup asks him later, when Junhong and him are sitting on the practice room floor, drenched in sweat.
He feels worse than before. Feels like running straight to the dorm and apologizing, but he doesn’t. He just sits, muscles aching after hours of dancing.
“Are you and Youngjae hyung fighting?” Jongup asks, concern obvious in his voice, even when he moves to push himself off the ground. How he manages to still have energy, Junhong will never know.
“We didn’t have a fight.” Junhong explains, shaking his head when Jongup offers to pull him up from the ground.
“Then why are you ignoring him?”
Junhong bites at his lip. “It’s complicated.” He says, finally.
“What makes it so complicated?” Jongup continues, casually starting to dance. Even without music, Jongup still manages to look amazing-not silly like anyone else would look if they danced to silence.
Junhong feels himself getting angry, irrationally. “It just is.” He forces, eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing.
Jongup stops for a moment to look down at him before he moves again, this time spinning in place. When Junhong glances up again, Jongup stops, facing him, hair wisped to the side from the movement. “I thought you liked him.”
“That’s precisely why it’s complicated.” Junhong mumbles, cheeks flushing, embarrassed.
“I think he likes you, too.” Jongup replies, trying to be helpful. “I mean, he kisses you a lot, so that has to mean something.”
(If Junhong wasn’t red before, he definitely is now.)
“That’s not the point, hyung.” Junhong tries, feeling lost, heaving a huge breath. Jongup only blinks at him, attentive, trying to understand. “What if-what if it doesn’t work out?” He asks as if Jongup’s going to know the answer. As if an eighteen year old with just as much experience as him will know all the answers. “What if we start dating and everything’s fine and perfect and then it just stops? What if he breaks up with me, and it ruins B.A.P?”
And Jongup has this thoughtful expression on his face again; one that makes Junhong think he’s going to give up on him.
Instead he says, “You won’t know unless you try.”
(Which only makes things ten times harder.)
“Who knows,” He continues, innocently, “you guys might even end up marrying each other.”
Jongup grins. Junhong’s face colors ten shades darker.
-
Step 3: deny what you feel.
-
“What’s with you and Youngjae?” Yongguk takes the opportunity to ask. Because he’s the leader, and apparently Junhong’s outright ignoring him is ruining the group’s dynamic.
Junhong kicks at the ground, training his eyes on a little knot in the carpet. They’re in the living room. Youngjae’s somewhere in the room, probably talking to Himchan or something.
They’ve gotten closer lately.
(Junhong tries not to let that bother him.)
“Nothing’s going on with Youngjae and me.” Junhong denies, face still glued to the ground, trying hard not to be affected by the way Yongguk is just staring at him, eyes glued onto the side of his face like he’s the most interesting thing in the room.
For some reason, Yongguk smiles, like he knows something Junhong doesn’t. It puts the youngest on edge. “That’s not what Jongup said.”
Junhong thinks, bitterly, sulkily, that traitor.
“What did he say?” Junhong murmurs, moving his foot over the little knot in the ground.
“That you guys were going to get married.”
If Junhong wasn’t so focused on denying everything, he would’ve spluttered. “Jongup hyung’s just joking.” He says, quickly, dodgingly. So obvious he’s sure that Yongguk can tell.
Instead of calling him out on it, the leader says, “Look,” all serious, and Junhong turns, listening to him, staring at the thoughtful look in his eyes, “if there’s something going on between you two, it’s perfectly fine with me.”
“There’s nothing going on.” Junhong repeats, honestly, “I just...”
“You’re scared.” Yongguk finishes for him, a look of understanding on his face, and Junhong’s too ashamed to even nod. “Crushes are scary.” The oldest agrees.
Except Junhong isn’t so sure it’s a crush anymore.
“But you can’t let it affect you so much. You guys are bandmates; you should be able to be honest with each other.”
Right when Junhong opens his mouth to tell him how hard that is, he sees Youngjae from the corner of his eyes with Daehyun trailing behind him. He closes his mouth, and Yongguk sighs, a small smile on his face.
“What’s going on?” The newly made white-streaked brunette asks, tossing himself onto the couch, deliberately taking up the space of the other couch so that Youngjae’s forced to sit next to Junhong.
The youngest feels as if the others are out to get him.
“Nothing.” Yongguk helps him, patting Junhong on the shoulder before getting up from the couch, “I was just about to head to bed.” Junhong doesn’t know if that helps him or not, but he looks at the clock on the tv and agrees it’s late. “You guys should head to bed soon, too. We have a big schedule tomorrow.”
Daehyun groans, tossing his head back onto the couch cushion. Yongguk makes sure to playfully shove his head when he walks passed him.
Youngjae’s surprisingly quiet about it. Usually he’d be right there, throwing a sarcastic comment somewhere, but he doesn’t.
Instead, when Junhong glances over at him, the older man is staring at the ground, where Junhong’s foot is running over the knot in the carpet.
“Yongguk hyung isn’t any fun.” Daehyun says, but Junhong can barely hear him. Because Youngjae’s basically leaning against his shoulder, and this close he can see the way his nose curves out and his neck curves in. He see how his hair falls just over his eyebrows, and how his mouth slightly opens everytime he blinks and closes when Junhong breathes.
And it’s terrifying. He doesn’t understand how Jongup and Yongguk can be so nonchalant when they can’t see how much Youngjae affects him. When they can’t feel how his head literally morphs to play-doh whenever Youngjae’s around.
“Wow,” Daehyun suddenly shouts, an eyeroll somewhere in his the fluctuation of his voice, “why don’t you just kiss already?”
When he sees Youngjae grin, Junhong feels his heart stop and start again, feels how his chest collapses and his head spins.
The moment he turns, Junhong wants to pass out.
The moment he laughs and playfully (platonically) kisses his cheek, Junhong gets up from the couch, wiping at his face, trying to hide the blush painting his cheeks an embarrassing pink.
And he denies feeling anything.
Denies wanting anything more.
Even when he hears Youngjae saying, “Junhong?” with that look of utter confusion on his face.
(Denying isn’t working.
If anything, it’s making everything a thousand times worse.)
-
Step 4: hide from him until he stops caring.
-
“You’re just being ridiculous now.” Daehyun says, staring at Junhong, trying desperately to fit himself underneath his and Jongup’s bunk bed.
The younger boy feigns confusion, staring up at Daehyun from under the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, hyung.”
“Everyone knows you’re hiding from Youngjae.”
“Who says I’m hiding?” Junhong lies, working to fit his legs underneath the bunk. This is the first time Junhong’s wished he wasn’t so tall. “I just dropped my... my-”
“Dignity?” Daehyun supplies, crouching on the ground to stare levely with Junhong. “Your common sense?”
Junhong simply stares at him.
He knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows it’s not doing him any good to hide from him; he knows he should just talk with Youngjae, but he can’t.
He’s scared.
“Do you need a little help getting the egg off your face?” Daehyun asks, and Junhong flushes, rolling his eyes but taking Daehyun’s hand when he offers to pull him up. “Go talk to him. It’s not like it’s going to kill you to tell him how you feel.”
Junhong isn’t so sure though.
-
Junhong left the room with the full intention of talking to Youngjae.
He steeled himself over, making sure he was strong enough to see his face without bolting. He breathed, he blinked, he fidgeted, and he thought. He did everything short of glueing his feet to the ground.
And he figures, now, maybe that’s what he should’ve done.
Because the moment he sees Youngjae, the moment he makes his way to the living room to see the older man sitting on the couch with his head against the cushion, staring at nothing but the roof, looking sad, confused, vulnerable, lonely-the only thing he does is run.
Straight into Himchan.
“Hyung!” Junhong yelps, placing a hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to look over at Youngjae to make sure he didn’t hear. “What are you doing here?”
“I kind of live here.” Himchan replies simply, an eyebrow raised. Without another word, he peers over Junhong’s shoulder. A look of understanding dawns on his face. “Oh, you wimp.”
Junhong feels nothing short of offended. “I’m not a wimp.”
“You’re such a wimp.” Himchan insists, peering over Junhong’s body to a point beyond obvious. When Junhong attempts to hold him back, Himchan looks more amused than the first time Junhong’s voice cracked on stage. “I rest my case.”
Junhong feels his jaw clench, he feels the muscles around his mouth tightening to the point he can’t even retort, and the look on Himchan’s face isn’t helping. Nothing is.
“I thought you said you were going to grow a pair.” Himchan says, smile gone now, replaced by a slim hand to his hip. He’s not playing around; Junhong thinks he’s in trouble.
“When did I say that?”
“When I caught you using Jongup as an excuse to avoid Youngjae.”
“Don’t say his name so loud.” Junhong hisses.
Before he even has a chance to choke out please, Himchan’s eyes widens, and the smile is back. “Really?” He says, more of a scoff then anything else. “Really?”
Junhong feels a slight panic traveling down his spine. “Himchan hyung,” The younger splutters in a whisper, face physically paling, “don’t-please, don’t; I’m begging you-”
“Youngja-mph!” Junhong has a hand clamped against his mouth before he can get the last letter out. Himchan’s eyes look nothing short of shocked before they turn darker; outraged. “Mphmph!”
“Hyung, shhh!” Junhong murmurs, desperately, backing them further away from Youngjae.
Himchan replies, “Grmph mph bammps,” which Junhong loosely translates to “grow some balls.”
When Junhong opens his mouth to retort, he’s cut off by a, “Junhong?”
The hand over Himchan’s mouth slackens, and Junhong feels his blood turning cold.
He doesn’t have to turn around to see the look on Youngjae’s face.
He knows already.
(The fear Junhong’s been feeling comes crashing down on him like an anvil, smashing him flat.
He’s paralyzed, and he has no idea what to do now-how to avoid this.)
Youngjae’s looking at him, but he isn’t smiling. His eyes are open wide, and his eyebrows are crinkled together in confusion. “Junhong,” he says again. Junhong can feel him stepping forward. Himchan takes the chance to slip away from his grip, “what are you doing?”
“I was-” Junhong starts, throat tightening, resisting the urge to turn around. “I was just...”
A sudden sense of realization is in his voice when Youngjae says, aloud, “Avoiding me?”
He sounds nothing short of betrayed, and Junhong finally realizes maybe he’s just making things worse.
Nothing good is coming out of this.
He misses when things weren’t so complicated: when they could link arms without Junhong yearning to grab his hand and twine their fingers together. When Youngjae could smile at him without Junhong freaking out about it. When Youngjae could kiss him on the cheek without Junhong having the urge to turn his head and press their lips together, softly, sweetly, everything he’s ever dreamed about.
Instead he has this.
Instead he has Youngjae, staring at him-just looking. Biting his cheek and rolling his lips between his teeth, unaware of what to say, unaware of what to do. Instead he has Youngjae, nodding, voice breaking, saying, “Okay,” just that. Just that single word, and then he smiles, forcefully, pretending, “Um, if-if you want space that badly, I’ll... I’m happy to give it to you.“
And Junhong shakes his head, but even that isn’t enough to stop Youngjae from brushing passed him, wiping at his eyes and heading to their room.
Junhong feels an incredibly thick lump in his throat.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but that isn’t enough to make him feel better.
“Junhong...” Himchan says, looking apologetic.
Before he can get another word out, Junhong stops him. “No, hyung, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
It’s all his fault.
-
Step 5: own up to it.
-
“Youngjae hyung,” Junhong calls, carefully pushing open the door. He sees Daehyun sitting on Yongguk’s bed and giving Junhong a very pointed look of disappointment.
Without a word, Daehyun sighs and points to the bed above him: Youngjae’s.
There’s a small ball underneath his blankets. Junhong feels his heart sink.
Not a second later, Daehyun gets up from his spot on the bed and walks up to Junhong, putting a hand on his shoulder, silently applying pressure on it and pushing him forward all at the same time. Junhong gets the feeling he’s telling him not to fuck up this time.
“Hyung...” Junhong says again, voice a soft sort of comforting. He hears the door behind him closing, and now that Daehyun’s gone, he feels ten times more nervous. A thousand times more nauseous. He’s never been this afraid-not even his auditions were this nerve wracking.
But Youngjae has a funny power over him. Something that turns him into something he’s not-something that makes him want to waste away.
Something that makes him want to be.
“Yes?” He hears, quiet, muffled and it breaks his heart to know that he caused that.
“Are you okay?”
There’s the sound of a deep breath, and the little ball on Youngjae’s bed gets smaller. “No.” He says honestly, and Junhong gets closer, hands shaking as he climbs on the bunk and hangs on the railing, peering down to see Youngjae’s brown hair sticking precariously out of his blanket. His frame is shaking beneath it, like he can tell Junhong is nearby, and he’s just as afraid as him. “I’m going to be though. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not dependent on you for my happiness.” His voice gets really quiet. “It would be nice, but I’m much more realistic than that.”
(If it wasn’t clear before, Junhong is entirely sure now that Youngjae’s pissed.)
“Look-” Junhong starts, awkwardly wrapping his hands around the cold metal of the bunk bed railing.
When Youngjae turns on his bed to face him, popping his head out of the blanket to stare at Junhong with slightly red eyes, Junhong has a hard time getting out the next few words. “I’m looking.” Youngjae says simply, levelly.
Junhong can read the annoyance in his eyes, the way he bites his tongue.
“I-” Junhong stammers.
“-am a jerk?” Youngjae blurts, obviously unplanned, because his eyes go wide, and the blanket tosses over his head again, hiding him, keeping Junhong from looking at that face, those eyes. “Sorry...”
“No,” Junhong says, quickly, shifting his weight onto one foot, contemplating whether to climb onto the bed, too, or not, “no, you’re right.” And he smiles even though he’s sure Youngjae doesn’t want to see it. Even though he’s sure he deserves it. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did.”
“If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said so.”
“Yeah, hyung, I don’t have a problem with you; I was just-” I’m scared. I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never dated anyone before.
What if I mess things up?
“Just what?” And Junhong can hear confusion, and he’s glad it’s not laced with the previous annoyance.
“Just... stupid.” Junhong says simply.
There’s a scoff from under the blanket. “Damn right.”
“And childish.”
“And unreasonable.” Youngjae mumbles. The blanket scrunches where his hands are, clenching the fabric between his fingers, and Junhong resists the urge to reach over, to pry it away and replace it with his hands. “And stupid.”
Junhong laughs. “You said that already.”
“Well, I’m saying it again.” When Youngjae starts shaking, when his voice breaks and wavers, Junhong realizes he’s crying. “’Cause you were. Really, really stupid.”
“Hey,” Junhong says softly, this time not even thinking about it when he hops onto the bed, throwing a leg over the railing and tumbling onto the bed. The mattress creeks beneath him, but Youngjae stays where he is, curling himself further into his blanket, “hey, hey, don’t cry.”
“I can cry if I want.” Youngjae struggles to say, a sob ripping out of the blanket when Junhong leans forward, throwing his arms over where he thinks Youngjae’s body is. “I don’t even understand what I did. Why-why did you-”
“Because-” Junhong struggles, breath short. More afraid than ever. He tightens his hold on around Youngjae’s frame. “don’t freak out on me.” He suddenly says, laughing when he feels Youngjae move, when he can practically feel the indignance radiating off him.
“I’m already freaking out!” Youngjae’s voice squeaks.
“Fine, fine,” Junhong chuckles, softly, voice suddenly going quiet. Now or never, he thinks, and before he has a chance to stop himself completely, he murmurs, “The reason why I... acted like I did. Why I was such a stupid jerk...” He smiles, but it doesn’t stop the flips in his stomach. Doesn’t stop the way his head rushes, and he can barely think. “Is because I, um, I love you.”
When Youngjae doesn’t say anything, Junhong closes his eyes. His arms slackens, and he nearly backs away. “So, yeah,” Junhong says awkwardly, chest caving in, eyes stinging in a bad way. He blinks to make it go away, “there’s that. I’m gonna go throw up now.” Because his stomach is turning. His eyes hurt, and he’s trying hard not to cry.
Junhong moves away, sitting up straight. He has one leg over the railing and about two tons on his heart when Youngjae sits up, too, still in his blanket. “Wait!” He shouts.
There’s a loud bang where he hits his head on the roof.
“Oh my god.” Junhong says, turning in his spot to see if Youngjae’s okay only to fall off the bunk bed.
The next thing he realizes, Junhong’s on the ground, legs tossed on the bottom bunk, hand stretched out into the air, and head on the ground. His vision is fuzzy, but it focuses long enough to see Youngjae’s head peeking over the railing, rubbing at his hair, mussed with a bit of sweat. “Oh my god,” Youngjae says, repeating Junhong, hands over his mouth in shock. Junhong can see his eyes, the tear tracks and the worry beneath the red. He can see his cheeks flushed from the heat of the blanket (or maybe from embarrassment), and he can see his hands trembling. “are you okay?” He asks, voice loud, panicked.
And all Junhong does is laugh.
Because this is ridiculous. He’s ridiculous, and everything he’s done to avoid just this was useless.
He should’ve just confessed like a normal person.
“That-” Junhong struggles, rubbing a hand down his face. “Leave it to me to ruin an already horrible confession.”
And Youngjae laughs, too, eyes turning up, that little dimple on the side of his lips deepening. “Granted, I didn’t exactly help.”
“Yeah, you and your stupid face.” Junhong says, pushing himself up to smile.
When he looks up, all he sees is Youngjae, tossing himself over the railing and getting the wind knocked out of him. He lands on top of him, and Junhong moves his hands, tugging at Youngjae’s t-shirt, moving his hands through his hair. He feels his chest huffing, trying to breathe, and when Youngjae finally lifts his head to stare straight at Junhong, there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “That went a lot smoother in my head.”
Junhong presses their foreheads together, too busy laughing to think about how close they really are. How Youngjae’s eyelashes are so long he can feel them against his forehead.
And suddenly he feels their noses bumping together, and Youngjae leans forward, and he kisses him. It’s gentle, and it’s just once, but it still has Junhong’s stomach flipping, still has him trying to catch his breath.
He focuses long enough to see Youngjae, and his ears are red. He’s biting at his lips. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you, too.”
-
A second later, Yongguk comes crashing through the door, Daehyun behind him, trying to hold him back and Himchan and Jongup standing on their tiptoes, trying to see what’s happening.
“We heard crashes.” Himchan explains shortly.
When Daehyun starts laughing, Junhong buries his face into the crook of Youngjae’s neck, face completely red.
-----
Pairing: Youngjae/Zelo
Genre: romance
Rating: PG
Warnings: a bit of language
Summary: Junhong's afraid he likes Youngjae a lot more than he should.
Note: 4,896 words. Unbeta-ed because I never beta anything anymore.
Junhong honestly has no idea when it starts.
He thinks maybe it was something he did; something he said. Maybe it was because of the world tour-all of those crash performances, grabbing Youngjae’s collar and shaking him until he smiled. Playing with him on stage until the previous awkwardness he felt around him diminished and morphed into something new. Something comfortable. All of those times he looked over on stage and saw Youngjae staring back at him, laughing, smiling, making faces.
Those times he looked over and nearly growled whenever he saw Youngjae playing with someone else, whenever he turned and saw him looking at Jongup or Himchan instead.
Maybe-Junhong thinks-if he hadn’t have been so friendly before, if he hadn’t have broken that barrier, that protection, they would be fine now. He wouldn’t have to care as much as he did; he wouldn’t notice the sudden change in Youngjae. The subtle way his face shines when Junhong talks to him or even about him. Maybe he wouldn’t be so conscious about how often Youngjae touches him-a simple graze of a hand against his arm or the simmering touch of his cheek against his shoulder.
Maybe Junhong wouldn’t have started liking him.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to avoid him to make it stop.
-
Step 1: pretend he has no effect over you.
-
Junhong thinks it can’t be that hard. He’s perfectly fine with pretending. Fine with acting.
He figures pretending it doesn’t affect him as much is the best thing for them. The best thing for Youngjae. Just as long as nothing changes; just as long as Youngjae doesn’t get hurt.
(But the older man always has to make things so difficult.)
When Junhong’s laying down on Jongup’s bed, listening to music, Youngjae comes crashing into the room.
“Junhong!” The younger hears, and he breathes to cool the heat in his chest, the sudden way his awareness flares, and he sees Youngjae, smiling. He almost can’t breathe, almost has the breath catch unbearably in his throat, but he doesn’t let it. He’s good at pretending. Good at faking. Good at avoiding the look on Youngjae’s face when he doesn’t immediately greet him back. “Junhong? What’s that look for?”
“It’s nothing.” Junhong replies, as easily as he can. He can feel the excitement radiating off the vocalist’s form, and to calm himself down, Junhong fiddles with the mp3 player in his hand. A song plays through his headphones, but strangely, he has no idea what it is. No idea when all he can hear is the slight imbalance of Youngjae’s breath. He wonders what he’s been doing, why he was so excited he ran straight to Junhong; he doesn’t look at Youngjae once though. “Hey, hyung.” He finally greets, looking around the room-anywhere but at Youngjae with those eyes, those lips, and the way his hair is mussed at the front.
(And okay, he might be looking now. He might even be staring.
But that’s okay, because he’s good at pretending. He’s good at acting.
Youngjae can’t tell.)
“Did you come from the practice room or something?” Junhong asks, the hold he has on his music player tightening when Youngjae gently pushes at his shoulder, silently telling him to move over. When Junhong doesn’t listen to him, the older man purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows and trying not to pout. Junhong finds it unbearable. “What?”
“I want to sit on the bed with you.” The vocalist replies, and Junhong envies how nonchalant he is.
Junhong tilts his head in the direction of the bunk just centimeters away. “There’s a bed over there.”
“Yeah, but that’s Himchan hyung’s,” Youngjae points out, making another attempt to push Junhong to the side, “you know how Himchan hyung is about his bed.”
“Then why don’t you go in your own bed.”
“You’re not even in your own bed,” Youngjae deadpans, staring at Junhong with pointed eyes. The younger boy resists the urge to blush, opting to turn his music up instead. Pretending he can’t hear. Pretending he can’t feel Youngjae pushing at his shoulder or see him getting increasingly annoyed. Pretending it doesn’t bother him, “fine.” The vocalist finally says. crossing his arms and huffing.
Junhong thinks he’s going to walk away.
Instead he climbs onto his legs, sitting criss crossed in his lap.
Junhong pretends he isn’t blushing.
“Hyung, what are you doing?” He chokes, glaring, biting the inside of his cheeks when Youngjae tosses him a smug smirk. The older man simply makes himself comfortable, stretching his legs out on either side of Junhong and laughing when the younger boy splutters, ripping his earbuds out of his ears, threatening to get up and toss him off.
“You wouldn’t move.” Youngjae says, and for a split second, he looks vulnerable. He sounds hurt.
Junhong has to pretend he doesn’t hear it. Has to pretend that his heart doesn’t ache and his hands don’t want to reach over and tug him closer.
“Sorry.” Junhong apologizes, a mere mumble that makes Youngjae smile at him.
Without a warning, the older man reaches over and takes the mp3 player from his hands, grabbing at one of the earbuds and carefully reaching over to put one in Junhong’s ear. He feels him brushing at the side of his hair, searching for his ear, and Junhong feels his heart stop when Youngjae’s cold hand grazes his cheek bone. “It’s okay,” Youngjae says, putting the other earbud into his own ear and sifting through the different playlists Junhong has on his music player. His eyelashes flutter against the shade of the top bunk, and Junhong almost reaches over to brush his bangs away. Before he can, Youngjae looks up at him and grins. “I like this song.” He exclaims.
Coffee shop plays in his left ear, and Junhong snorts.
Youngjae continues, undeterred, “I like the lead vocalist.”
Junhong rolls his eyes, snatching away his mp3 player. “The maknae isn’t so bad either.” He murmurs, and Youngjae laughs, playfully shoving at his shoulder.
“Yeah,” He finally agrees, once he smothers his laughter with a fond smile, “I think he’s pretty cute.”
Junhong has to swallow to make the lump in his throat disappear.
When he feels a blush burning his cheeks, he finally realizes that pretending isn’t working as much as he hoped it would.
-
Step 2: ignore him until it goes away.
-
Junhong thinks this step is harder than the last. He isn’t sure how well he’ll be able to do it, but he’s willing to try if it means not feeling this way.
He feels wrong, like he’s ruining everything with a simple feeling, and he doesn’t want to go back to that-that awkwardness. When Youngjae would look at him and turn away.
Because that’s how things work when you like someone. That’s how things always turn out when it all comes to an end.
Junhong doesn’t want that to happen. More than anything, Junhong won’t let that happen.
So when Junhong sees Youngjae heading toward him, he turns to talk to Jongup.
And he ignores the way Youngjae’s face falls.
“Hyung,” Junhong exclaims, voice a tad bit higher than he’s used to, and Jongup turns, apparently oblivious, “how’s your dancing coming along?”
He almost cringes at how obvious he’s being, but he keeps his focus on Jongup’s curious gaze, keeps focus on that so that the look Youngjae has on his face wouldn’t hurt as much. “I think it’s coming along pretty well?” Jongup smiles, tilting his head with that signature look in his eyes. “I mean, I haven’t been doing anything different.”
“Really?” Junhong asks, voice booming, louder than he really means it to be, and Jongup flinches back in surprise, smile still in place despite that. “Haven’t you been working on that thing?”
“What... thing...?”
“You know, the thing.”
Jongup looks so thoughtful, Junhong almost feels bad for confusing him. “I’m sorry, Junhong, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says hesitantly, looking apologetic, like he’s somehow failed Junhong by not remembering the nonexistent thing Junhong keeps talking about.
Junhong almost bows then, almost breaks and apologizes. Instead he glances over at Youngjae and grabs Jongup’s hand. “Here, let’s go to the practice room; I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”
He walks out the door without a second thought about Youngjae, but it’s still not enough to erase the look on his face from his memory.
-
“What was that about?” Jongup asks him later, when Junhong and him are sitting on the practice room floor, drenched in sweat.
He feels worse than before. Feels like running straight to the dorm and apologizing, but he doesn’t. He just sits, muscles aching after hours of dancing.
“Are you and Youngjae hyung fighting?” Jongup asks, concern obvious in his voice, even when he moves to push himself off the ground. How he manages to still have energy, Junhong will never know.
“We didn’t have a fight.” Junhong explains, shaking his head when Jongup offers to pull him up from the ground.
“Then why are you ignoring him?”
Junhong bites at his lip. “It’s complicated.” He says, finally.
“What makes it so complicated?” Jongup continues, casually starting to dance. Even without music, Jongup still manages to look amazing-not silly like anyone else would look if they danced to silence.
Junhong feels himself getting angry, irrationally. “It just is.” He forces, eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing.
Jongup stops for a moment to look down at him before he moves again, this time spinning in place. When Junhong glances up again, Jongup stops, facing him, hair wisped to the side from the movement. “I thought you liked him.”
“That’s precisely why it’s complicated.” Junhong mumbles, cheeks flushing, embarrassed.
“I think he likes you, too.” Jongup replies, trying to be helpful. “I mean, he kisses you a lot, so that has to mean something.”
(If Junhong wasn’t red before, he definitely is now.)
“That’s not the point, hyung.” Junhong tries, feeling lost, heaving a huge breath. Jongup only blinks at him, attentive, trying to understand. “What if-what if it doesn’t work out?” He asks as if Jongup’s going to know the answer. As if an eighteen year old with just as much experience as him will know all the answers. “What if we start dating and everything’s fine and perfect and then it just stops? What if he breaks up with me, and it ruins B.A.P?”
And Jongup has this thoughtful expression on his face again; one that makes Junhong think he’s going to give up on him.
Instead he says, “You won’t know unless you try.”
(Which only makes things ten times harder.)
“Who knows,” He continues, innocently, “you guys might even end up marrying each other.”
Jongup grins. Junhong’s face colors ten shades darker.
-
Step 3: deny what you feel.
-
“What’s with you and Youngjae?” Yongguk takes the opportunity to ask. Because he’s the leader, and apparently Junhong’s outright ignoring him is ruining the group’s dynamic.
Junhong kicks at the ground, training his eyes on a little knot in the carpet. They’re in the living room. Youngjae’s somewhere in the room, probably talking to Himchan or something.
They’ve gotten closer lately.
(Junhong tries not to let that bother him.)
“Nothing’s going on with Youngjae and me.” Junhong denies, face still glued to the ground, trying hard not to be affected by the way Yongguk is just staring at him, eyes glued onto the side of his face like he’s the most interesting thing in the room.
For some reason, Yongguk smiles, like he knows something Junhong doesn’t. It puts the youngest on edge. “That’s not what Jongup said.”
Junhong thinks, bitterly, sulkily, that traitor.
“What did he say?” Junhong murmurs, moving his foot over the little knot in the ground.
“That you guys were going to get married.”
If Junhong wasn’t so focused on denying everything, he would’ve spluttered. “Jongup hyung’s just joking.” He says, quickly, dodgingly. So obvious he’s sure that Yongguk can tell.
Instead of calling him out on it, the leader says, “Look,” all serious, and Junhong turns, listening to him, staring at the thoughtful look in his eyes, “if there’s something going on between you two, it’s perfectly fine with me.”
“There’s nothing going on.” Junhong repeats, honestly, “I just...”
“You’re scared.” Yongguk finishes for him, a look of understanding on his face, and Junhong’s too ashamed to even nod. “Crushes are scary.” The oldest agrees.
Except Junhong isn’t so sure it’s a crush anymore.
“But you can’t let it affect you so much. You guys are bandmates; you should be able to be honest with each other.”
Right when Junhong opens his mouth to tell him how hard that is, he sees Youngjae from the corner of his eyes with Daehyun trailing behind him. He closes his mouth, and Yongguk sighs, a small smile on his face.
“What’s going on?” The newly made white-streaked brunette asks, tossing himself onto the couch, deliberately taking up the space of the other couch so that Youngjae’s forced to sit next to Junhong.
The youngest feels as if the others are out to get him.
“Nothing.” Yongguk helps him, patting Junhong on the shoulder before getting up from the couch, “I was just about to head to bed.” Junhong doesn’t know if that helps him or not, but he looks at the clock on the tv and agrees it’s late. “You guys should head to bed soon, too. We have a big schedule tomorrow.”
Daehyun groans, tossing his head back onto the couch cushion. Yongguk makes sure to playfully shove his head when he walks passed him.
Youngjae’s surprisingly quiet about it. Usually he’d be right there, throwing a sarcastic comment somewhere, but he doesn’t.
Instead, when Junhong glances over at him, the older man is staring at the ground, where Junhong’s foot is running over the knot in the carpet.
“Yongguk hyung isn’t any fun.” Daehyun says, but Junhong can barely hear him. Because Youngjae’s basically leaning against his shoulder, and this close he can see the way his nose curves out and his neck curves in. He see how his hair falls just over his eyebrows, and how his mouth slightly opens everytime he blinks and closes when Junhong breathes.
And it’s terrifying. He doesn’t understand how Jongup and Yongguk can be so nonchalant when they can’t see how much Youngjae affects him. When they can’t feel how his head literally morphs to play-doh whenever Youngjae’s around.
“Wow,” Daehyun suddenly shouts, an eyeroll somewhere in his the fluctuation of his voice, “why don’t you just kiss already?”
When he sees Youngjae grin, Junhong feels his heart stop and start again, feels how his chest collapses and his head spins.
The moment he turns, Junhong wants to pass out.
The moment he laughs and playfully (platonically) kisses his cheek, Junhong gets up from the couch, wiping at his face, trying to hide the blush painting his cheeks an embarrassing pink.
And he denies feeling anything.
Denies wanting anything more.
Even when he hears Youngjae saying, “Junhong?” with that look of utter confusion on his face.
(Denying isn’t working.
If anything, it’s making everything a thousand times worse.)
-
Step 4: hide from him until he stops caring.
-
“You’re just being ridiculous now.” Daehyun says, staring at Junhong, trying desperately to fit himself underneath his and Jongup’s bunk bed.
The younger boy feigns confusion, staring up at Daehyun from under the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, hyung.”
“Everyone knows you’re hiding from Youngjae.”
“Who says I’m hiding?” Junhong lies, working to fit his legs underneath the bunk. This is the first time Junhong’s wished he wasn’t so tall. “I just dropped my... my-”
“Dignity?” Daehyun supplies, crouching on the ground to stare levely with Junhong. “Your common sense?”
Junhong simply stares at him.
He knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows it’s not doing him any good to hide from him; he knows he should just talk with Youngjae, but he can’t.
He’s scared.
“Do you need a little help getting the egg off your face?” Daehyun asks, and Junhong flushes, rolling his eyes but taking Daehyun’s hand when he offers to pull him up. “Go talk to him. It’s not like it’s going to kill you to tell him how you feel.”
Junhong isn’t so sure though.
-
Junhong left the room with the full intention of talking to Youngjae.
He steeled himself over, making sure he was strong enough to see his face without bolting. He breathed, he blinked, he fidgeted, and he thought. He did everything short of glueing his feet to the ground.
And he figures, now, maybe that’s what he should’ve done.
Because the moment he sees Youngjae, the moment he makes his way to the living room to see the older man sitting on the couch with his head against the cushion, staring at nothing but the roof, looking sad, confused, vulnerable, lonely-the only thing he does is run.
Straight into Himchan.
“Hyung!” Junhong yelps, placing a hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to look over at Youngjae to make sure he didn’t hear. “What are you doing here?”
“I kind of live here.” Himchan replies simply, an eyebrow raised. Without another word, he peers over Junhong’s shoulder. A look of understanding dawns on his face. “Oh, you wimp.”
Junhong feels nothing short of offended. “I’m not a wimp.”
“You’re such a wimp.” Himchan insists, peering over Junhong’s body to a point beyond obvious. When Junhong attempts to hold him back, Himchan looks more amused than the first time Junhong’s voice cracked on stage. “I rest my case.”
Junhong feels his jaw clench, he feels the muscles around his mouth tightening to the point he can’t even retort, and the look on Himchan’s face isn’t helping. Nothing is.
“I thought you said you were going to grow a pair.” Himchan says, smile gone now, replaced by a slim hand to his hip. He’s not playing around; Junhong thinks he’s in trouble.
“When did I say that?”
“When I caught you using Jongup as an excuse to avoid Youngjae.”
“Don’t say his name so loud.” Junhong hisses.
Before he even has a chance to choke out please, Himchan’s eyes widens, and the smile is back. “Really?” He says, more of a scoff then anything else. “Really?”
Junhong feels a slight panic traveling down his spine. “Himchan hyung,” The younger splutters in a whisper, face physically paling, “don’t-please, don’t; I’m begging you-”
“Youngja-mph!” Junhong has a hand clamped against his mouth before he can get the last letter out. Himchan’s eyes look nothing short of shocked before they turn darker; outraged. “Mphmph!”
“Hyung, shhh!” Junhong murmurs, desperately, backing them further away from Youngjae.
Himchan replies, “Grmph mph bammps,” which Junhong loosely translates to “grow some balls.”
When Junhong opens his mouth to retort, he’s cut off by a, “Junhong?”
The hand over Himchan’s mouth slackens, and Junhong feels his blood turning cold.
He doesn’t have to turn around to see the look on Youngjae’s face.
He knows already.
(The fear Junhong’s been feeling comes crashing down on him like an anvil, smashing him flat.
He’s paralyzed, and he has no idea what to do now-how to avoid this.)
Youngjae’s looking at him, but he isn’t smiling. His eyes are open wide, and his eyebrows are crinkled together in confusion. “Junhong,” he says again. Junhong can feel him stepping forward. Himchan takes the chance to slip away from his grip, “what are you doing?”
“I was-” Junhong starts, throat tightening, resisting the urge to turn around. “I was just...”
A sudden sense of realization is in his voice when Youngjae says, aloud, “Avoiding me?”
He sounds nothing short of betrayed, and Junhong finally realizes maybe he’s just making things worse.
Nothing good is coming out of this.
He misses when things weren’t so complicated: when they could link arms without Junhong yearning to grab his hand and twine their fingers together. When Youngjae could smile at him without Junhong freaking out about it. When Youngjae could kiss him on the cheek without Junhong having the urge to turn his head and press their lips together, softly, sweetly, everything he’s ever dreamed about.
Instead he has this.
Instead he has Youngjae, staring at him-just looking. Biting his cheek and rolling his lips between his teeth, unaware of what to say, unaware of what to do. Instead he has Youngjae, nodding, voice breaking, saying, “Okay,” just that. Just that single word, and then he smiles, forcefully, pretending, “Um, if-if you want space that badly, I’ll... I’m happy to give it to you.“
And Junhong shakes his head, but even that isn’t enough to stop Youngjae from brushing passed him, wiping at his eyes and heading to their room.
Junhong feels an incredibly thick lump in his throat.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but that isn’t enough to make him feel better.
“Junhong...” Himchan says, looking apologetic.
Before he can get another word out, Junhong stops him. “No, hyung, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
It’s all his fault.
-
Step 5: own up to it.
-
“Youngjae hyung,” Junhong calls, carefully pushing open the door. He sees Daehyun sitting on Yongguk’s bed and giving Junhong a very pointed look of disappointment.
Without a word, Daehyun sighs and points to the bed above him: Youngjae’s.
There’s a small ball underneath his blankets. Junhong feels his heart sink.
Not a second later, Daehyun gets up from his spot on the bed and walks up to Junhong, putting a hand on his shoulder, silently applying pressure on it and pushing him forward all at the same time. Junhong gets the feeling he’s telling him not to fuck up this time.
“Hyung...” Junhong says again, voice a soft sort of comforting. He hears the door behind him closing, and now that Daehyun’s gone, he feels ten times more nervous. A thousand times more nauseous. He’s never been this afraid-not even his auditions were this nerve wracking.
But Youngjae has a funny power over him. Something that turns him into something he’s not-something that makes him want to waste away.
Something that makes him want to be.
“Yes?” He hears, quiet, muffled and it breaks his heart to know that he caused that.
“Are you okay?”
There’s the sound of a deep breath, and the little ball on Youngjae’s bed gets smaller. “No.” He says honestly, and Junhong gets closer, hands shaking as he climbs on the bunk and hangs on the railing, peering down to see Youngjae’s brown hair sticking precariously out of his blanket. His frame is shaking beneath it, like he can tell Junhong is nearby, and he’s just as afraid as him. “I’m going to be though. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not dependent on you for my happiness.” His voice gets really quiet. “It would be nice, but I’m much more realistic than that.”
(If it wasn’t clear before, Junhong is entirely sure now that Youngjae’s pissed.)
“Look-” Junhong starts, awkwardly wrapping his hands around the cold metal of the bunk bed railing.
When Youngjae turns on his bed to face him, popping his head out of the blanket to stare at Junhong with slightly red eyes, Junhong has a hard time getting out the next few words. “I’m looking.” Youngjae says simply, levelly.
Junhong can read the annoyance in his eyes, the way he bites his tongue.
“I-” Junhong stammers.
“-am a jerk?” Youngjae blurts, obviously unplanned, because his eyes go wide, and the blanket tosses over his head again, hiding him, keeping Junhong from looking at that face, those eyes. “Sorry...”
“No,” Junhong says, quickly, shifting his weight onto one foot, contemplating whether to climb onto the bed, too, or not, “no, you’re right.” And he smiles even though he’s sure Youngjae doesn’t want to see it. Even though he’s sure he deserves it. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did.”
“If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said so.”
“Yeah, hyung, I don’t have a problem with you; I was just-” I’m scared. I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never dated anyone before.
What if I mess things up?
“Just what?” And Junhong can hear confusion, and he’s glad it’s not laced with the previous annoyance.
“Just... stupid.” Junhong says simply.
There’s a scoff from under the blanket. “Damn right.”
“And childish.”
“And unreasonable.” Youngjae mumbles. The blanket scrunches where his hands are, clenching the fabric between his fingers, and Junhong resists the urge to reach over, to pry it away and replace it with his hands. “And stupid.”
Junhong laughs. “You said that already.”
“Well, I’m saying it again.” When Youngjae starts shaking, when his voice breaks and wavers, Junhong realizes he’s crying. “’Cause you were. Really, really stupid.”
“Hey,” Junhong says softly, this time not even thinking about it when he hops onto the bed, throwing a leg over the railing and tumbling onto the bed. The mattress creeks beneath him, but Youngjae stays where he is, curling himself further into his blanket, “hey, hey, don’t cry.”
“I can cry if I want.” Youngjae struggles to say, a sob ripping out of the blanket when Junhong leans forward, throwing his arms over where he thinks Youngjae’s body is. “I don’t even understand what I did. Why-why did you-”
“Because-” Junhong struggles, breath short. More afraid than ever. He tightens his hold on around Youngjae’s frame. “don’t freak out on me.” He suddenly says, laughing when he feels Youngjae move, when he can practically feel the indignance radiating off him.
“I’m already freaking out!” Youngjae’s voice squeaks.
“Fine, fine,” Junhong chuckles, softly, voice suddenly going quiet. Now or never, he thinks, and before he has a chance to stop himself completely, he murmurs, “The reason why I... acted like I did. Why I was such a stupid jerk...” He smiles, but it doesn’t stop the flips in his stomach. Doesn’t stop the way his head rushes, and he can barely think. “Is because I, um, I love you.”
When Youngjae doesn’t say anything, Junhong closes his eyes. His arms slackens, and he nearly backs away. “So, yeah,” Junhong says awkwardly, chest caving in, eyes stinging in a bad way. He blinks to make it go away, “there’s that. I’m gonna go throw up now.” Because his stomach is turning. His eyes hurt, and he’s trying hard not to cry.
Junhong moves away, sitting up straight. He has one leg over the railing and about two tons on his heart when Youngjae sits up, too, still in his blanket. “Wait!” He shouts.
There’s a loud bang where he hits his head on the roof.
“Oh my god.” Junhong says, turning in his spot to see if Youngjae’s okay only to fall off the bunk bed.
The next thing he realizes, Junhong’s on the ground, legs tossed on the bottom bunk, hand stretched out into the air, and head on the ground. His vision is fuzzy, but it focuses long enough to see Youngjae’s head peeking over the railing, rubbing at his hair, mussed with a bit of sweat. “Oh my god,” Youngjae says, repeating Junhong, hands over his mouth in shock. Junhong can see his eyes, the tear tracks and the worry beneath the red. He can see his cheeks flushed from the heat of the blanket (or maybe from embarrassment), and he can see his hands trembling. “are you okay?” He asks, voice loud, panicked.
And all Junhong does is laugh.
Because this is ridiculous. He’s ridiculous, and everything he’s done to avoid just this was useless.
He should’ve just confessed like a normal person.
“That-” Junhong struggles, rubbing a hand down his face. “Leave it to me to ruin an already horrible confession.”
And Youngjae laughs, too, eyes turning up, that little dimple on the side of his lips deepening. “Granted, I didn’t exactly help.”
“Yeah, you and your stupid face.” Junhong says, pushing himself up to smile.
When he looks up, all he sees is Youngjae, tossing himself over the railing and getting the wind knocked out of him. He lands on top of him, and Junhong moves his hands, tugging at Youngjae’s t-shirt, moving his hands through his hair. He feels his chest huffing, trying to breathe, and when Youngjae finally lifts his head to stare straight at Junhong, there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “That went a lot smoother in my head.”
Junhong presses their foreheads together, too busy laughing to think about how close they really are. How Youngjae’s eyelashes are so long he can feel them against his forehead.
And suddenly he feels their noses bumping together, and Youngjae leans forward, and he kisses him. It’s gentle, and it’s just once, but it still has Junhong’s stomach flipping, still has him trying to catch his breath.
He focuses long enough to see Youngjae, and his ears are red. He’s biting at his lips. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you, too.”
-
A second later, Yongguk comes crashing through the door, Daehyun behind him, trying to hold him back and Himchan and Jongup standing on their tiptoes, trying to see what’s happening.
“We heard crashes.” Himchan explains shortly.
When Daehyun starts laughing, Junhong buries his face into the crook of Youngjae’s neck, face completely red.
-----