More than Words
Title: More than Words
Pairing: HyukHae, HaeHyuk
Rating: PG
Genre: romance, fluff
Disclaimer: I wish
Warnings: mentions of sex, language
Summary: Donghae ponders about Hyukjae and exactly what the other means to him.
How does one take Lee Hyukjae and all that he is and put it into words? Donghae supposes that the easiest way would be through a physical description.
Hyukjae is beautiful (because despite his protests that, “Beautiful is for women,” he really is-beautiful, that is). His skin is pale, whiter than even the fresh snowfall, and in certain lights that shine on him just right, it looks translucent. Sometimes, when they’re lying in bed together, Donghae likes putting his arm next to Hyukjae’s, admiring how tan his own skin looks, almost like putting gold next to silver. But the finest silver cannot possibly be as smooth as Hyukjae’s skin when Donghae runs his fingers down the other’s arm, tracing the roads of blue veins.
Hyukjae’s hair is red again, reminiscent of their Premium Live in Japan days. The hair style seems to be a fan favorite, and it’s no secret that it’s also Donghae’s. There’s just something about the way the crimson locks frame the older man’s face, a sharp contrast to alabaster skin. Hyukjae always complains that it makes it look as though his head is on fire, but Donghae knows that he only says that to get Donghae to run his fingers through the scarlet tresses.
Despite differing opinions from people, Donghae really likes Hyukjae’s eyes. He finds the single eyelids quite attractive and not swollen-like in the least (although he doesn’t mind when they’re swollen either). When Hyukjae smiles or laughs, his eyes get all crinkly, and while Hyukjae may hate the wrinkles, Donghae always has this urge to kiss the corners of his eyes. So one day, he does. Hyukjae’s startled expression is so funny that Donghae does it again. The look Donghae gives Hyukjae after the kiss probably means more to the latter than any words Donghae could ever say, and Donghae is satisfied when Hyukjae stops talking about the eye injection he’s been contemplating.
Donghae thinks that Hyukjae has the cutest ears ever. People look into each other eyes to see emotions; one only needs to look at Hyukjae’s ears. Hyukjae may have learned how to keep a poker face, but his ears have a mind of their own. Whenever Hyukjae is embarrassed or shy, his ears slowly heat up until the color matches his hair. Donghae finds this incredibly endearing. It’s a bonus that Hyukjae’s ears happen to resemble those of a monkey, living up to the man’s well-earned nickname.
Donghae is proud of his own jaw line, but it’s really nothing compared to Hyukjae’s. Every time Donghae runs his tongue over the prominent bone, he thinks that a jaw line this sexy ought to be outlawed on the grounds of being too adjective-for-sexy for its own good. Donghae reckons that it is so sharp that he could use it to open his mail as a replacement for a letter opener (here is usually where Hyukjae complains because, “Really? A letter opener? How much less romantic can you get?” “Do you prefer a potato peeler then?”).
Poems, epic poems, should be written in honor of Hyukjae’s lips. Donghae still wonders how it’s possible for someone to have such perfect, full lips. They are slightly dry though, probably the result of Hyukjae licking his lips one too many times. Donghae doesn’t mind, especially not when he is afforded a delicious view of the action firsthand coupled with a seductive quirk of said lips.
Hyukjae’s smile is nothing short of blinding. Of course, Donghae finds the smirks that the other wears during dances attractive too (there have been a great many quick sessions after their live performances to attest to that), but it’s his smile that never fails to make Donghae’s day brighter. Just one look at the full lips stretched across white teeth and pink gums will cause Donghae’s own lips to upturn involuntarily. Add in a look of pure joy, crinkly eyes, and a charming half laugh and Donghae swears that he’s falling in love all over again.
Donghae knows Hyukjae’s body better than he knows his own. He knows Hyukjae is ticklish right behind his ears, that Hyukjae likes kisses to his temple, that Hyukjae’s Adam’s apple is where he should lick for a breathy moan, and that if he lovingly rubs the back of Hyukjae’s knees on his way up, Hyukjae will involuntarily kick him. There’s also the matter of Hyukjae’s newly found muscles. Donghae likes Hyukjae’s new cut body, even though there is that miniscule twinge of nostalgia over the too skinny, awkward boy that he had first fallen for. After all, who could say no to chocolate abs like those (although Donghae thinks his own are much better, thank you very much)?
But that really doesn’t do Hyukjae any justice because there’s just so much more to him; the physical aspect of Hyukjae is only a small part of who he is.
Hyukjae is born to dance, and he moves across the floor with an almost robotic precision that Donghae admires. He has a raw talent for all types of dance, whether it is girl group dances or hip hop. Popping and locking, of course, is his forte. Donghae wishes that the K-pop industry would appreciate that style of dance more, because with that kind of ability, Hyukjae deserves more than just “lead dancer of Super Junior”; he deserves the stars.
Hyukjae’s dance skills don’t just stem from raw talent; there are endless hours of practice behind them. Long after the sun has gone down and all the other members have left, only Donghae and Hyukjae remain, still dancing (yes, their private dance practices are actually private dance practices, not “private dance practices” as the others tease them about). More often than not, a look of frustration appears on Hyukjae’s face as he still does not get the emotion of the dance quite right and Donghae knows that it will be some time before they leave.
Hyukjae does not have the best voice in Super Junior; far from it. His voice wavers and almost never fails to crack on high notes. Still, Donghae finds himself listening for Hyukjae’s parts in the group songs and wonders why Hyukjae isn’t given more lines, because to Donghae, Hyukjae’s voice is soothing and sweet, the one that whispers quiet lullabies into his ears when he can’t sleep, the best voice in the world.
Hyukjae has great variety skill. Whether it be hosting or Teukigayo or one of the gazillion variety shows he appears on, it’s always Hyukjae’s quick wit that sends people off their chairs laughing. Donghae admires, even envies, Hyukjae’s gag, but he knows that, too, is not without sacrifice. He can’t keep track of how many times he’s stumbled upon Hyukjae practicing in front of the mirror, aligning this gesture with that joke, making this certain expression, stressing over whether or not he is funny enough compared to their hyungs. Donghae assures Hyukjae that he will never fail to make people laugh; all he needs to do is look at the camera (cue a rather painful whack to the head).
With the positive comes the negative. Donghae doesn’t know if the fans aren’t aware or if they simply choose not to acknowledge it, but Hyukjae isn’t perfect; in fact, he’s chock full of annoying habits.
One reason Donghae doesn’t get enough sleep is Hyukjae. Everything will be going perfectly fine, with Donghae deep in his dreamland twirling cane-sized candy canes and singing Kumbayah, when he would suddenly be rudely awoken by an unceremonious fall from the bed to the floor. Hyukjae, roused by the loud thump, would look blearily at Donghae rubbing his bruised bum and say, “What the heck, Hae? Stop being so loud.” Resisting the urge to scream, “I would if you stop kicking me out of bed,” Donghae would shove Hyukjae off the bed (hah, taste of his own medicine) and proceed to hog the blankets for the rest of the night.
All those rumors about Hyukjae and his porn? Complete understatements; Hyukjae is a total porn addict. Donghae concedes that porn is practically a must for any guy, especially one without any sexual outlet. But Hyukjae has Donghae, who is the sex god of all women’s (and some men’s) fantasies; what more could he possibly want? A lot more, evidently, Donghae thinks as he walks in on Hyukjae with one hand down his pants and eyes glued to his laptop screen for the third time that week.
Hyukjae never says, “I love you,” even though Donghae says it at least three times a day. In the entirety of their long relationship (and it has indeed been long), Donghae can count the number of times he has heard those three little words escape Hyukjae’s mouth on one hand with fingers to spare. For a person who sweeps all those female idols off their feet with slick raps and who, for Shisus’ sake, writes countless lyrics professing eternal love, Hyukjae can be so emotionally stunted, especially when it comes to verbalizing his feelings.
Hyukjae never turns on his cell phone, rendering him nearly impossible to contact. That’s all forgivable, of course, when they’re within miles of one another. What’s less forgivable is when they are countries apart. This issue is really troubling to Donghae (especially when he’s in some foreign country, not knowing the language and feeling lonelier than ever), and he admittedly has blown up over it several times. Donghae doesn’t mind an ignored text or a phone call not returned here and there, but would it kill Hyukjae to try to contact him once in a while? Or even try to be contactable?
Despite Hyukjae’s many flaws and the fact that Donghae sometimes wishes to boil him in hot lava, Donghae cannot think of a person who is more of a perfect complement to himself.
Contrary to popular belief, Hyukjae and Donghae are not telepathic; honestly, Donghae really doesn’t know (or want to) know what Hyukjae is thinking sometimes. Years of closeness may allow him to make a pretty good guess at the ongoings of Hyukjae’s mind, but guesses are all they are. This frustrates Donghae to no end since, as aforementioned, Hyukjae has the communication skills of a twelve year old. He wants to be there for Hyukjae when the latter needs him, he wants to be the one Hyukjae talks to about his problems, he wants to offer the right words to make Hyukjae feel better. But he never pushes Hyukjae because he knows Hyukjae is uncomfortable with that. And so, he settles for giving Hyukjae a hand, a shoulder, a kiss, anything and everything because even though that’s not what Donghae wants, it’s what Hyukjae needs.
The closest thing to psychic ability Donghae has is this strange sense (his Fishy Senses, he likes to call it) of when Hyukjae is about to cry. This could be very useful, but it’s usually not. Why? Because if Hyukjae is going to cry, more than likely, Donghae is already living up to his name as the Tears Prince.
Competition has a deep niche in their relationship. They compete over everything under the sun, from who can win the most rock-paper-scissors games (Hyukjae), to who can eat the fastest (Donghae, but both end up hurling most of what they just ate after that competition, so Hyukjae claims that it’s void), to, possibly the most important of them all, who gets to top that night (much to Hyukjae’s dismay, the score currently stands Donghae: 324 Hyukjae: 312). All it takes is one glance at each other with a shared smirk, and both of them are off, vying for nothing more than the exhilaration of their rivalry. And really, there’s nothing more they need. That and bragging rights.
This is usually where Donghae gives up trying to explain why Hyukjae is so important to him. It’s not because his explanation has become very convoluted, or that the person he’s talking to has started nodding in a manner that suggests they have no idea what he’s talking about and is simply nodding to be polite, or even because he has run out of words to describe Hyukjae’s special radiance (“He just has this glow”). It’s because for the nth time, Donghae realizes that truly, Hyukjae is someone that he can’t explain in words.
“Donghae.”
Donghae breaks out of his reverie and turns away from the window of the company van to look at Hyukjae, whose smile is barely visible in the dim light of the moon. “Yeah?”
“What are you thinking about?” asks Hyukjae, lacing their fingers together.
Donghae feels his own smile coming out as he squeezes Hyukjae’s hand. “You. And us.”
Hyukjae’s smile widens and he leans in to whisper in Donghae’s ear. “Speaking of us, your ass is mine tonight.”
Donghae chuckles. “Alright,” he says agreeably.
An almost comical look of shock appears on Hyukjae’s face. Their fight for dominance in the bedroom usually lasts for much longer and involves all forms of affectionate but violent besmirching. “What’s wrong with you?” Hyukjae demands, reaching out to feel Donghae’s forehead.
“Nothing,” Donghae laughs, pushing Hyukjae’s hand away. He smiles sweetly at him. “I figured that I ought to let you top once in a while or else you’d never get the chance.”
Hyukjae’s concerned face morphs into a scowl. “Bastard,” he growls, punching Donghae’s arm. His expression settles on a sulky glower.
“Hmm,” Donghae hums in agreement, putting his head on Hyukjae’s shoulder and allowing his eyelids to drift closed. “Your bastard.”
Hyukjae’s grimace softens and he presses a chaste kiss on Donghae’s forehead before resting his cheek on Donghae’s head.
“Hyuk?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
There is a small pause. “I know.”
This isn’t the answer Donghae wants, nor is it unexpected, but it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that Hyukjae knows. And even though Hyukjae never says it, Donghae knows too.
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