I Love You (Donghae/Kyuhyun, Donghae/Kibum)

[warmboys]

Fandom: Super Junior
Character/Pairing: Donghae/Kyuhyun, Donghae/Kibum
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3400
Summary: Four years later, Donghae thinks back to when he met Kibum in a math class.
A/N: college AU. all over the place and messed up in many different senses. this wasn't supposed to be so long. surprise guest appearances to hopefully brighten up the fic!


I Love You

“Tell me everything.”

Kyuhyun is lying on his stomach with his head on Donghae’s lap. He mumbles those words into Donghae's thigh, warm breath that the older man can feel just below his boxers.

“You never talk about your exes. But I know there were people before me,” Kyuhyun continues drowsily, drifting back and forth between two states of consciousness. “After all, who can resist that adorable face?”

Donghae lowers his head and gives his boyfriend a soft kiss on the forehead. “I don’t want to talk about the past. There’s too much”--he hesitates, before settling on a noun convincing enough--“sadness.”

Kyuhyun is silent, either pensive or fallen asleep. Donghae wonders if Kyuhyun interpreted that as a reference to his father. He hates using his father as an excuse to explain why he never brings up the past, as though the death has traumatized him so that he can no longer retain memories of any kind.

Sorry, appa.

Even as he apologizes silently to his father guarding over him from above, shadows from four years earlier come creeping back, settling in the dusty corners of his mind, and he begins to remember.

He was a college sophomore. The place was a classroom in an old building smelling of mildew and chalk dust-the statistics department. He was here because he needed a math course to fulfill the quantitative reasoning requirement for sophomores and probability sounded easier than vector spaces. Yes, that was it.

It might’ve been the second or third day of classes. He came in just as the professor, a young Indian man fresh out of grad school, raised chalk to the board, and slipped into a seat near the front.

As he pulled out his notebook and pen, he felt a light tap on the arm. “Hey, can you understand what this guy is saying?”

The voice belonged to the boy sitting next to him, and the fact that he was talking in a math class told Donghae that he was probably a freshman.

“Not really, but I’m not exactly the best person to ask,” Donghae whispered back.

The boy flashed him a smile, and Donghae noticed the natural charm in it. He smiled back, sheepishly.

“Are you taking this class for sure?” The boy asked.

“I don’t know… but I need a math class. You?”

“Same. Maybe we can suffer together.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He might’ve been a freshman, but there was nothing shy or reserved about him, at least not that Donghae could tell. Something about him, maybe the smile, or the big sleepy eyes through a pair of black thick-framed glasses, was magnetic; Donghae found himself oddly drawn to this boy. Despite having met for just a couple minutes.

He scribbled down formulas for permutations and combinations when the words, “What’s your name again?” drifted into his ear in the form of a whispery drawl. He turned to find the boy’s face merely inches away from his and felt his heart stop for the briefest of seconds.

“Lee Donghae,” he said. Despite Kibum’s question, he hadn’t actually introduced himself earlier.

“Donghae? Nice to meet you.” The boy extended a hand. “I’m Kim Kibum.”

They shook hands. Kibum’s palm was cool and dry.

Without so much as a spoken agreement, from that day on they always sat next to each other. Rather, Donghae always scrambled through the day in the last minute and took the seat beside Kibum, always empty. Kibum would look up at him through his black frames and smile pleasantly as he mouthed “Hey.” They whispered back and forth throughout the class, checking each other’s answers to the problems the professor posed on the board. Kibum was much better at them than he let on; he almost always had the correct numbers, while Donghae found the eraser stub on his pencil shrinking smaller and smaller after every problem.

You’re a liar, he leaned over and wrote in the margins of Kibum’s notebook. You’re actually good at this.

No I’m not. I’m just good at faking it, Kibum wrote back. His handwriting was all long slants, a stark contrast to Donghae’s small bubbly letters.

At some point during the lecture Donghae drifted off to unconsciousness, and he woke up to find Kibum standing up and putting his books away. “Class is over already, sleepyhead,” Kibum said, hitting him lightly on the head.

He blinked several times and looked down at his notebook, which contained only half a page of notes for the day. The last thing he had written was eleven numbers that he couldn’t make sense of. It didn’t seem like the answer to any of the problems he’d copied down.

He blinked again and realized the numbers weren’t written in his hand but Kibum’s and that they were separated into three groups with dashes in between.

“My number,” Kibum explained, following Donghae’s line of vision. “We can study together.”

Studying meant that Donghae asking questions at two in the morning and Kibum answering them, patiently. Donghae couldn’t understand why Kibum would want to study with him.

“But I get to review, too. Explaining something to someone else is another way of preparing for the exam,” Kibum said behind a cheeky smirk.

“I just feel bad. You could be doing better things with your time,” Donghae said. “Like sleeping.”

Kibum laughed. “Trust me, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now. I love watching you struggle with binomial coefficients.”

Donghae threw his eraser at Kibum’s head and missed, just barely. He wondered if Kibum was being sarcastic.

Donghae never saw Kibum outside of class and their late-night study sessions until that one Friday night.

He was at a party a friend was hosting, Kim Heechul, it might’ve been, although nowadays they didn’t speak anymore. Back then, though, in college, they had been pretty good friends. At least that was how he remembered it.

It was dark, and he had had a couple of beers and was fine until someone decided to turn on the strobelight, at which point he felt all of the alcohol rush to his head. Things moved in slow motion now, in bursts of light and darkness, and out of nowhere he spotted Kibum against a wall talking to some girl with a bemused smile on his lips. He appeared before Donghae like a silent film, moving in jerks. Donghae maneuvered his way through the throng of sweaty people pressed up against one another and throbbing to the beat of the music-his goal was Kibum at that moment, to reach Kibum.

“Hey,” Donghae said when he finally disentangled himself from the crowd. Or he might’ve drooled into Kibum’s ear. But the other boy didn’t seem to notice.

The girl looked at Donghae and quietly disappeared.

“Hey,” Kibum returned, his eyes trained on Donghae’s slightly flushed face.

“Didn’t think you were the type to go to these things,” Donghae said. “Do you know Heechul?”

“Yeah, we go way back,” Kibum answered slowly. Or maybe he wasn’t the one being slow. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” Donghae lied. “I’m just…” he trailed off, noticing that Kibum was wearing a wifebeater. A black, ribbed wifebeater that clung to his skin and revealed well-defined abdominals under it. And he noticed that Kibum had arms, which had always been hidden under long sleeves up until then. Before his mind could yell at himself to stop, he had reached a hand under Kibum’s shirt and was skimming fingertips across the surface of his stomach, feeling the contours of his muscles as they contracted at the touch.

“Donghae,” Kibum was saying. Reprimandingly? Donghae couldn’t tell, or care, because he was busy lowering himself into a kneeling position and simultaneously loosening Kibum’s belt so that it would be easier to…

“Donghae,” Kibum said again. This time Donghae heard, because the song had ended and a new one started playing but in between there was the tiniest of pauses and that was when Kibum had said his name. Donghae, which sounded so good on his lips. On his tongue.

“Kibum,” Donghae said back at him, looking up from where he was now kneeling, the belt still firmly in place. In a moment of sobriety he suddenly felt fear-did “Donghae” mean rejection? Stop, I don’t want you? I’m not gay? Get away from my dick?

Kibum reached out a hand and pulled Donghae up to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

They had sex on the lawn behind the dormitory, secluded in the shadow of the building. Donghae dug his nails into the soil as Kibum thrusted into him and marveled at how prepared Kibum had been, wondered hazily if he always carried condoms in his wallet wherever he went. It was Donghae’s first time with a boy, although he’d known for ages that he was “that way.” The most he’d done up until then was give and receive head, mostly with a couple older men he met online-he wasn’t ready to come out at school just yet and still flirted with girls and slept with them occasionally. Sometimes he thought he swung both ways, but the physical reaction to an erect penis was infinitely stronger than to a pair of perky breasts, no matter how eager the girl was. And he always knew he was a bottom.

It hurt at first, to feel something so unnaturally large sliding in and out of him, and he had gasped, wondered if there would be blood, but it was dark, and as they settled on a comfortable rhythm, he began to make different sounds, higher-pitched, girlier sounds he couldn’t suppress as they escaped from his throat. Kibum was inside him. Inside him.

“You’re mine,” Kibum said when they finally collapsed on the grass, wet and exhausted. “Lee Donghae, you belong to me.”

Donghae was breathing too heavily to respond. If he could, he probably would’ve said, “Yes.”

It became a ritual, the fucking. They acted like friends at school, still whispering and laughing during class, sometimes drawing inappropriate body parts on each other’s notebooks, and they still had study sessions (or “Q&A” sessions, as Donghae liked to think of them). The only difference was now study sessions would end with carpet burns and odd-looking stains and missing buttons, if they were careless. They never cuddled, and they weren’t boyfriends. They didn’t watch movies together or go on dates. They were discreet. Just fucking.

It was mutually agreed upon, Donghae assured himself. But then he would look into Kibum’s eyes and wonder what he was thinking about. He realized that he had no idea but that he also wished he did.

“Maybe we should-“

“Do you want to-“

They both stopped and looked at the other expectantly.

“You go first,” Donghae said.

Kibum looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Do you want to go out?”

“Right now? It’s almost three in the morning.”

“No, I mean. Do you want to go out,” Kibum sucked in his breath as if he were blowing a balloon inside out. “With me.”

Donghae smiled and leaned in for their first kiss. Kibum tasted like peppermint.

Donghae had never had a boyfriend before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. But he was pretty certain that Kibum was one of the most attentive and observant people he’d ever met. He was so observant, in fact, that sometimes it bordered on clairvoyance.

“I have to go back home for a weekend,” Donghae sighed into the phone one night.

“Is it because of your dad?” Kibum’s voice crackled thinly on the other end of the line.

“Yeah… wait, how do you know about that?”

Kibum laughed, and it made a faint echo in the background. “Silly, you told me you were really worried about him. Don’t you remember?”

Donghae didn’t. In fact he had never spoken to anyone at school about his father’s illness. But he knew that he had a tendency to blurt out things without realizing, and his father had been preoccupying his mind a lot as of late. Kibum must have heard him talk to himself about it, or something, and stored it away in his mental “Donghae” folder, like he did with everything else. He really was the best boyfriend.

Sometimes they stayed in Donghae’s room to watch movies, sometimes they went out for Thai food, and sometimes they just made love. Donghae was starting to see that Kibum liked to be rough in bed, maybe a little rougher than he was comfortable with. Sometimes it hurt in a good way, but a lot of the time it just hurt.

He brought this up one night. Kibum looked away from him, and Donghae worried that he had hurt his pride; he wondered if he should have kept quiet about it instead.

“It’s because it’s you,” Kibum said quietly, still turned away. “I just want you so badly.”

Why? Donghae couldn’t help wondering. When they had sex again, it was still the same, as though the conversation had never happened.

Donghae bumped into Kim Heechul on the street one day on the way to class. “How’ve you been?” He asked, giving Heechul a friendly hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the party, nearly two months ago.

Heechul grinned, sharp as ever. “Good. Where’ve you been hiding? I thought we were friends.”

Donghae laughed apologetically. “I’ve been busy, I guess.”

Heechul patted him on the back. “I understand. Hey, did you ever get to meet Kim Kibum?”

“Kibum? What about him?”

“Oh, so you met,” Heechul grinned again, narrowing his eyes slyly. “You know he begged me to invite him to that party.”

“Wait, you’re not friends?”

“Not really. I find that kid creepy as hell, to be honest, but our parents do business together. And you know I don’t usually like to invite students from other schools to my parties.”

Donghae didn’t know if he had heard correctly. “He goes here, Heechul.”

Heechul snorted. “Is that what he told you? He must’ve really wanted to fuck you. Actually you’re the reason he wanted to come to my party in the first place… something about knowing you since he was in high school but never had a chance to talk to you… and other creepy shit. He’s like really good with math and computers and that kind of thing, so watch out or he might hack into your laptop or something.”

Donghae was silent.

“Sorry, man, I should’ve told you earlier. But you know how it’s like at college, so much going on all the time. Speaking of-gotta run. Nice talking to you-but definitely ignore that kid if he tries calling you or something, okay?” And Heechul was gone.

For two days Donghae didn’t return Kibum’s calls. He locked himself in his room and didn’t go to classes. He also didn’t eat, much to the alarm of his roommate.

On the third day, he came back from the bathroom to find Kibum sitting on his bed.

“How did you get in?” he asked, stunned.

Kibum smiled, his teeth blindingly white. “You gave me a spare key.”

“No I didn’t.”

Kibum gave a soft laugh. “Okay fine, I had one made. Doesn’t it make things more convenient for us?”

Donghae didn’t know what to say.

“So,” Kibum said, folding his arms. “Why have you been ignoring me?” Donghae couldn’t ignore the hurt now visibly etched into his face.

“I talked to Heechul,” he said in his most casual tone.

“What about him?” Donghae listened for panic in Kibum’s voice, but there wasn’t any.

“He said that you aren’t a student here. That you knew me since high school. And you begged him to invite you to the party so you could…”

“Fuck you? That’s probably what he said, right?” Kibum laughed again. “How could you believe that guy?”

“He’s my friend, Kibum. I’ve known him longer than you.”

“What does it say about him, then, that he let me, a supposedly crazy guy who’s obsessed with you, into his party when he knew my so-called intentions?” The smile didn’t leave his face, but his eyes were narrowed now, and instinctively Donghae took a step back towards the door.

“Then how did you know about my dad?” Donghae asked. “I thought about it. And I never talked about him to anyone here. Not Heechul, not even my roommate.”

Kibum’s face was beginning to resemble a mask. “You’re a little spacey, Donghae. You told me before, you just don’t remember.”

“I’m not that spacey,” Donghae said. “In any case… I think we need some time apart.”

With that Kibum’s expression changed. “No, what are you talking about?”

“I need… to think about this.”

“What is there to think about?” Kibum stood up and took a step towards Donghae. “We’re perfect.”

Donghae inched backwards again, but Kibum lunged forward and pulled him into a tight hug. “Donghae. I love you.”

Donghae squirmed between his arms but found himself trapped. “Kibum, let me go.”

“I love you.”

“Kibum.”

“I’ve loved you ever since I saw you dance in that auditorium. Do you remember? When you performed with the dance club during the school festival.”

Donghae was finding it hard to breathe. He forced himself to concentrate. Dance club. That was back in high school. And… there had been a festival. And he had done the routine to H.O.T’s “Candy.” “Is that-when-you-first…?”

Kibum’s arms constricted him even more tightly than before. “I had to have you. I walked by your classes every day. But you were always with other people. Girls. You were always surrounded by girls. And then you dated that bitch Jessica.”

“Ki-bum-“

“I wanted you so badly, but you belonged to everyone else. And then I found out you were taking that pathetic stats class-god, it’s so easy to manipulate the online college registration system.”

“Ki-“

“Does it matter how we got together, as long as we’re together now? Donghae. Donghae. My Donghae.” Kibum forced his lips onto Donghae’s and the last thing Donghae felt before slipping into unconsciousness was the familiar taste of peppermint.

When Donghae woke up, he was in the hospital, and he recognized the human shape before him as it came into focus to be Eunhyuk, his roommate. Eunhyuk said that he found him naked with purple and yellow bruises all over his body and there had been blood on the carpet. He didn’t say where the blood had come from; he didn’t need to. It was an awkward conversation, and Donghae was even glad when they changed the topic to Kibum’s whereabouts. The police were on it, Eunhyuk told him, and for now Donghae was to be put under heavy surveillance. They even provided him with a bodyguard, and Donghae looked towards the door to see a heavyset balding middle-aged man who tipped his cap at him when they made eye contact.

“But I’ll be your unofficial bodyguard,” Eunhyuk assured him with a sad attempt at a grin. It came out lopsided and twitchy but was enough to make Donghae giggle.

“Thanks.”

Long after the bruises healed, Kim Kibum still remained unfound. Donghae decided to transfer to a college in Seoul instead, and, for whatever reason, took up dancing again. One day after rehearsal he passed by a classroom and heard the beautiful clear voice of a boy singing alone. He had his face turned toward the window, and Donghae stood in front of the door for ten minutes before the boy turned around.

“That was really good,” Donghae said from where he was standing.

The boy looked as if he were mortified that someone had been listening. “Thanks.”

“Lee Donghae.” He was about to extend a hand but then, as if recalling something, stopped himself. Instead he just smiled.

Maybe it was the smile, but the boy seemed to relax. “Cho Kyuhyun.”

“Kyuhyun,” Donghae repeated. It felt slippery on his tongue. He liked it. “Can you sing me another song?”

Donghae doesn’t remember how long he was in that room, but he remembers the warm breeze from the window, the way it lifted tufts of hair from Kyuhyun’s forehead, revealing a small freckled patch of acne, so endearingly adolescent; and he remembers the soaring voice as it traveled across the room to settle in his eardrums; and Kyuhyun’s single-lidded eyes, closed.

---

first of all - i suspect there are grammatical errors and tense changes because i'm too lazy and tired to edit things.
secondly, sorry if i killed kihae...
also kyuhyun is single-lidded because i think he was cute pre-surgery :3