(hoya/dongwoo) east rain
Title: east rain
Rating: t
Pairing: hoya/dongwoo
east rain
One day, Dongwoo takes him away.
Hoya doesn’t even realize anything is off because he keeps nodding in and out of sleep, head against the cool glass until the sun glares past his eyelids and he wakes to the sight of the Han River outside the window. It runs parallel to the highway they’re on, leading them to the edge of Seoul. That is only when Hoya notices it’s Dongwoo driving, not a manager, and it’s not their usual van but an unfamiliar car that smells of disinfectant and worn leather.
“Where are we going?” Hoya yawns.
“Good morning,” Dongwoo says instead, turning to him and his smile is so wide and carefree that Hoya stares. He knows he should be used to it already, after all these years, but it still makes Hoya wonder. Dongwoo’s hair is soft, unstyled, and he’s wearing a leather jacket with sweatpants and Hoya decides against asking again, because beyond that grin is a look in Dongwoo’s eyes that suggests he doesn’t quite know either.
They drive and drive, until the Han River disappears. Hoya waits until he can taste the salt on his tongue when he asks Dongwoo again.
“Hyung, where are we going?”
Dongwoo drives effortlessly; back pressed to the seat, hands loose around the steering wheel yet steady. “We don’t have any schedules planned for the next few days. And we’ve already recorded our parts for that song hyung wants to use as our next single.”
“We’re running away?”
“We’re taking a trip.”
Hoya feels his lips curl into a smirk. “This means Sunggyu-hyung knows? Jungyeop-hyung? The managers?”
“Of course I told Sunggyu-hyung.”
“And the rest?”
“We’re here,” Dongwoo says, jerking the wheel abruptly and Hoya’s arm hits against the hard plastic finishing below the window. The road turns into gravel and Hoya can feel it in his bones, and he glares at Dongwoo's side profile while rubbing his arm. Dongwoo gives Hoya’s knee a reassuring pat while guiding the car into park in front of a small motel. Dongwoo kills the engine, and they sit in the silence of the crashing waves for several moments.
“I packed your bag for you,” Dongwoo says finally. “It’s in the boot. You won’t be missing any underwear or anything if you’re worried about that.”
Hoya feels an incredulous laugh escape. “We’re going to be in so much shit when we get back, you think I’m worried about clean underwear?”
“Well, then we better get started so we can return as soon as possible,” Dongwoo replies calmly. It’s not often that his voice sounds so stable, so still.
“And why exactly are we here, hyung?”
“Us,” Dongwoo says, pocketing the key and pushing the door open. The air that rushes in washes over Hoya, and it’s frigid. “To fix us,” he repeats, and he shuts the door with a thud. Goosebumps rise all over Hoya’s skin, and of course it’s the sea breeze.
Of course.
There are two single beds, one small bathroom and an ancient looking television. There’s a yellowing kettle at the corner but the sheets are clean and the bed doesn’t sag when Hoya plops himself on it, so it could be a lot worse.
Afternoon sun streams into their room and it turns Dongwoo’s hair even lighter than it already is. It makes Hoya think of spun gold and fairytales and sometimes, he can’t believe that Dongwoo is real, that Dongwoo is his, that Dongwoo is-
“Hoya?”
He blinks, and Dongwoo is staring at him with an amused expression across his face.
“Huh?”
“I said, should we play scissors-paper-stone for the bathroom?”
Hoya shakes his head. “You drove us here. You get to call dibs on the shower.”
“Okay,” Dongwoo says happily, “then I want you to shower first.”
“Huh?” Hoya says, before he can stop himself.
It’s enough to make Dongwoo laugh and throw a towel at him. “Go!” he says, and Hoya walks, slightly bewilderedly, into the bathroom. This is like a dream; reality fuzzy around the edges but the water is hot against his skin and he can hear Dongwoo singing along to some song on the television so this has to be real. He finishes quickly, but by the time he walks out, dressed in boxers and a simple tee, Dongwoo is curled up under the blankets, fast asleep.
He finds a hairdryer in the drawer, underneath the kettle, and then he remembers he doesn’t need it. They have nowhere to go, no schedules to adhere to, nothing but time between them.
For the first time since Hoya was a trainee, he falls asleep with damp hair and to Dongwoo’s steady breathing.
When Hoya stirs, it’s dusk and Dongwoo’s sitting on the edge of his own bed with a cup of ramyun in hand. Hoya sits up slowly, and Dongwoo climbs off his bed to sit on Hoya’s.
“Your hair is messy,” Dongwoo says, mouth full of noodles. Hoya reaches up to feel his hair but Dongwoo shakes his head and smiles. “It looks good.”
“I used your shampoo.”
Dongwoo leans in, too close, and draws back. “Yeah,” he says.
Hoya reaches for the cup and chopsticks from Dongwoo’s hands and and Dongwoo acquiesces. He places it down on the side table. “I used your body soap too,” Hoya says evenly, and Dongwoo cocks an eyebrow.
“Really?” Dongwoo feigns surprise and plays along by leaning in once more, and this time Hoya leans back in. Maybe this is what Dongwoo means by talking, Hoya thinks as clearly as he can with Dongwoo’s tongue in his mouth and Dongwoo’s hands wandering downwards. "You've always been selfish," Dongwoo breathes quietly, against Hoya's lips when he pulls away for air and Hoya doesn't protest. Dongwoo has always said he's too honest as well. He just waits until Dongwoo starts kissing him again, because Dongwoo always does and it’s like their first time for the hundredth, two hundredth time.
The next time Hoya stirs, it’s dawn and it takes him several seconds to realise two things: one, he can’t move his arms and two, they’re tied above his head, to the bed frame.
“Don't hurt yourself,” a voice comes softly and Hoya twists until he can see Dongwoo looking back at him, his eyes wide and soft and washed gold by the rising sun.
“What are you doing?” He starts each word with a swift tug, even though his wrists burn and Dongwoo slaps him on the thigh.
“Stop,” he hisses. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Then untie me,” Hoya replies as steadily as possible. He stops moving, and now his racing heart isn’t racing from the shock any longer.
Dongwoo shakes his head. “I thought, maybe, we could talk like this.”
“Right. OK,” Hoya says, voice limp, even though his face is heating up. “So, what’s up?”
This makes Dongwoo laugh, but it’s watery and tinged with unease. He sighs. “I don't know…we’ve been different. I thought our subgroup wouldn’t change anything.”
“Maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together." The binds around his wrist are tight, but not rough. Ties?
“Sometimes I just don’t know how to talk to you,” Dongwoo says, quieter this time. “It’s like you’re so closed off and cryptic at times.”
“I’m not a puzzle, hyung,” Hoya manages to say. “And you’re no open book either - at least I wouldn’t tie you to the bed when you’re asleep to get answers.”
Dongwoo laughs, hitting his knee lightly. “You like this.”
Hoya can’t lie, not when he’s wearing nothing but boxers. “I’d like it more if it was you tied up and me leaning over you.”
“I just want to break you down-not in a bad way!” Dongwoo adds, quickly. “Just enough so you’d lose control.”
Dongwoo continues to talk, so quickly it turns into blabber and Hoya tunes out to listen to the lilt and tone of his voice wash over him as Dongwoo unties the binds around his arms and when they’re free, ache blooms bright in the muscles of his back and arms. He draws his hands in front of him, and his wrists are marked with red ridges.
There are no apologies and this no need for one when Dongwoo pushes him down onto the bed, straddling him and pressing his lips chastely to his wrists; first the left and then the right, over then under, lips against his pulse point. It’s light and cool against the throbbing marks, and Hoya feels his eyes flutter shut.
And, for all of Dongwoo's troubles and just this once, Hoya allows himself to unravel.
They drive back to Seoul the next day (because Sunggyu-hyung only gave us one day, Dongwoo confesses) and as Hoya watches Seoul’s skyline rise slowly into view from the windscreen, he considers the strange events of the last twenty-four hours. Nothing has really changed; the fact that their relationship will change is slim and the odds that he and Dongwoo will outlast Infinite are even slimmer, but right now Dongwoo is humming along to an old song on the radio and he can't draw his gaze from Dongwoo and perhaps there is no need to fix something that isn’t perfect.
+ concrit is welcomed!
Rating: t
Pairing: hoya/dongwoo
east rain
One day, Dongwoo takes him away.
Hoya doesn’t even realize anything is off because he keeps nodding in and out of sleep, head against the cool glass until the sun glares past his eyelids and he wakes to the sight of the Han River outside the window. It runs parallel to the highway they’re on, leading them to the edge of Seoul. That is only when Hoya notices it’s Dongwoo driving, not a manager, and it’s not their usual van but an unfamiliar car that smells of disinfectant and worn leather.
“Where are we going?” Hoya yawns.
“Good morning,” Dongwoo says instead, turning to him and his smile is so wide and carefree that Hoya stares. He knows he should be used to it already, after all these years, but it still makes Hoya wonder. Dongwoo’s hair is soft, unstyled, and he’s wearing a leather jacket with sweatpants and Hoya decides against asking again, because beyond that grin is a look in Dongwoo’s eyes that suggests he doesn’t quite know either.
They drive and drive, until the Han River disappears. Hoya waits until he can taste the salt on his tongue when he asks Dongwoo again.
“Hyung, where are we going?”
Dongwoo drives effortlessly; back pressed to the seat, hands loose around the steering wheel yet steady. “We don’t have any schedules planned for the next few days. And we’ve already recorded our parts for that song hyung wants to use as our next single.”
“We’re running away?”
“We’re taking a trip.”
Hoya feels his lips curl into a smirk. “This means Sunggyu-hyung knows? Jungyeop-hyung? The managers?”
“Of course I told Sunggyu-hyung.”
“And the rest?”
“We’re here,” Dongwoo says, jerking the wheel abruptly and Hoya’s arm hits against the hard plastic finishing below the window. The road turns into gravel and Hoya can feel it in his bones, and he glares at Dongwoo's side profile while rubbing his arm. Dongwoo gives Hoya’s knee a reassuring pat while guiding the car into park in front of a small motel. Dongwoo kills the engine, and they sit in the silence of the crashing waves for several moments.
“I packed your bag for you,” Dongwoo says finally. “It’s in the boot. You won’t be missing any underwear or anything if you’re worried about that.”
Hoya feels an incredulous laugh escape. “We’re going to be in so much shit when we get back, you think I’m worried about clean underwear?”
“Well, then we better get started so we can return as soon as possible,” Dongwoo replies calmly. It’s not often that his voice sounds so stable, so still.
“And why exactly are we here, hyung?”
“Us,” Dongwoo says, pocketing the key and pushing the door open. The air that rushes in washes over Hoya, and it’s frigid. “To fix us,” he repeats, and he shuts the door with a thud. Goosebumps rise all over Hoya’s skin, and of course it’s the sea breeze.
Of course.
There are two single beds, one small bathroom and an ancient looking television. There’s a yellowing kettle at the corner but the sheets are clean and the bed doesn’t sag when Hoya plops himself on it, so it could be a lot worse.
Afternoon sun streams into their room and it turns Dongwoo’s hair even lighter than it already is. It makes Hoya think of spun gold and fairytales and sometimes, he can’t believe that Dongwoo is real, that Dongwoo is his, that Dongwoo is-
“Hoya?”
He blinks, and Dongwoo is staring at him with an amused expression across his face.
“Huh?”
“I said, should we play scissors-paper-stone for the bathroom?”
Hoya shakes his head. “You drove us here. You get to call dibs on the shower.”
“Okay,” Dongwoo says happily, “then I want you to shower first.”
“Huh?” Hoya says, before he can stop himself.
It’s enough to make Dongwoo laugh and throw a towel at him. “Go!” he says, and Hoya walks, slightly bewilderedly, into the bathroom. This is like a dream; reality fuzzy around the edges but the water is hot against his skin and he can hear Dongwoo singing along to some song on the television so this has to be real. He finishes quickly, but by the time he walks out, dressed in boxers and a simple tee, Dongwoo is curled up under the blankets, fast asleep.
He finds a hairdryer in the drawer, underneath the kettle, and then he remembers he doesn’t need it. They have nowhere to go, no schedules to adhere to, nothing but time between them.
For the first time since Hoya was a trainee, he falls asleep with damp hair and to Dongwoo’s steady breathing.
When Hoya stirs, it’s dusk and Dongwoo’s sitting on the edge of his own bed with a cup of ramyun in hand. Hoya sits up slowly, and Dongwoo climbs off his bed to sit on Hoya’s.
“Your hair is messy,” Dongwoo says, mouth full of noodles. Hoya reaches up to feel his hair but Dongwoo shakes his head and smiles. “It looks good.”
“I used your shampoo.”
Dongwoo leans in, too close, and draws back. “Yeah,” he says.
Hoya reaches for the cup and chopsticks from Dongwoo’s hands and and Dongwoo acquiesces. He places it down on the side table. “I used your body soap too,” Hoya says evenly, and Dongwoo cocks an eyebrow.
“Really?” Dongwoo feigns surprise and plays along by leaning in once more, and this time Hoya leans back in. Maybe this is what Dongwoo means by talking, Hoya thinks as clearly as he can with Dongwoo’s tongue in his mouth and Dongwoo’s hands wandering downwards. "You've always been selfish," Dongwoo breathes quietly, against Hoya's lips when he pulls away for air and Hoya doesn't protest. Dongwoo has always said he's too honest as well. He just waits until Dongwoo starts kissing him again, because Dongwoo always does and it’s like their first time for the hundredth, two hundredth time.
The next time Hoya stirs, it’s dawn and it takes him several seconds to realise two things: one, he can’t move his arms and two, they’re tied above his head, to the bed frame.
“Don't hurt yourself,” a voice comes softly and Hoya twists until he can see Dongwoo looking back at him, his eyes wide and soft and washed gold by the rising sun.
“What are you doing?” He starts each word with a swift tug, even though his wrists burn and Dongwoo slaps him on the thigh.
“Stop,” he hisses. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Then untie me,” Hoya replies as steadily as possible. He stops moving, and now his racing heart isn’t racing from the shock any longer.
Dongwoo shakes his head. “I thought, maybe, we could talk like this.”
“Right. OK,” Hoya says, voice limp, even though his face is heating up. “So, what’s up?”
This makes Dongwoo laugh, but it’s watery and tinged with unease. He sighs. “I don't know…we’ve been different. I thought our subgroup wouldn’t change anything.”
“Maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together." The binds around his wrist are tight, but not rough. Ties?
“Sometimes I just don’t know how to talk to you,” Dongwoo says, quieter this time. “It’s like you’re so closed off and cryptic at times.”
“I’m not a puzzle, hyung,” Hoya manages to say. “And you’re no open book either - at least I wouldn’t tie you to the bed when you’re asleep to get answers.”
Dongwoo laughs, hitting his knee lightly. “You like this.”
Hoya can’t lie, not when he’s wearing nothing but boxers. “I’d like it more if it was you tied up and me leaning over you.”
“I just want to break you down-not in a bad way!” Dongwoo adds, quickly. “Just enough so you’d lose control.”
Dongwoo continues to talk, so quickly it turns into blabber and Hoya tunes out to listen to the lilt and tone of his voice wash over him as Dongwoo unties the binds around his arms and when they’re free, ache blooms bright in the muscles of his back and arms. He draws his hands in front of him, and his wrists are marked with red ridges.
There are no apologies and this no need for one when Dongwoo pushes him down onto the bed, straddling him and pressing his lips chastely to his wrists; first the left and then the right, over then under, lips against his pulse point. It’s light and cool against the throbbing marks, and Hoya feels his eyes flutter shut.
And, for all of Dongwoo's troubles and just this once, Hoya allows himself to unravel.
They drive back to Seoul the next day (because Sunggyu-hyung only gave us one day, Dongwoo confesses) and as Hoya watches Seoul’s skyline rise slowly into view from the windscreen, he considers the strange events of the last twenty-four hours. Nothing has really changed; the fact that their relationship will change is slim and the odds that he and Dongwoo will outlast Infinite are even slimmer, but right now Dongwoo is humming along to an old song on the radio and he can't draw his gaze from Dongwoo and perhaps there is no need to fix something that isn’t perfect.
+ concrit is welcomed!