the lengths we go
sutao (+ implied kaisoo), 1k, pg
knock knock.
"hyung, um, do you want some tea?"
"no thank you, tao."
"water?"
"no thank you, tao."
+
knock knock.
"um, luhan lent me this book, it’s pretty good? if you want to read-"
"thank you, tao, but i’m alright."
"i think i can get anything he needs, dude."
"i just- didn’t want to leave the burden all on one person?"
"oh?" "oh?"
"well… okay. rest well, kyungsoo-hyung."
"thank you, tao. jongin, can you pass the extra blanket?"
+
no knocking.
"i brought you some extra blankets from my room-"
"-oh god!"
"shit!"
"oh, were you two-? i’m sorry, i-"
"tao. it’s really okay, just-"
slam.
+
"what’s with him?"
"since when has he ever given a shit about ‘leaving the burden all on one person’? hey, kick the blankets back down, my feet are sticking out again and i can’t kick them back with my sprain. also get your cold toes off me, you thug!"
…
"better?"
"mmm, thanks."
"warm?"
"very."
"he probably want something from you. or us."
"hm."
+
back in his bedroom, zitao is tucked into his bed, turning the book over in his hands and flipping the pages nervously just to feel them move past his thumb. the pile of blankets rests at the foot of his bed, unused and unwanted.
there’s a weight at the end of his bed, and when zitao looks up, he smiles sadly, heart lifting. joonmyeon rests a fatherly hand on his knee.
"you look upset."
"i’m not upset."
"you’re upset."
"i’m not upset."
"zitao." joonmyeon slips out of his slippers and tucks his knees up, scooching his tiny frame between tao and the wall. he’s warm and so is his smile, and so is the hand in zitao’s hair.
unhesitant, he curls into joonmyeon’s chest, allowing himself to be coddled.
"you’re upset."
"i’m not upset. but unrelatedly, why doesn’t kyungsoo-hyung like me?"
joonmyeon sighs, and there’s a bit of a laugh to it, which makes tao’s brows wrinkle. he looks up furiously but joonmyeon, as usual, has nothing but supportive adoration in his eyes.
"what makes you think kyungsoo-hyung doesn’t like you?" repeating the name with the affectionate title still attached like zitao had said it, mirroring and affirming and mildly condescending all at once. zitao kind of likes it, feeling adequately mommied.
"i was just trying to be helpful," zitao says. "i know we don’t always get along, but he’s hurt and i wanted to… be good to him. i tried to bring him tea, books, blankets, water, anything… but he didn’t want me to get him anything, he only wanted jongin."
"he usually does."
"but how am i supposed to make him like me if i can’t give him things?”
joonmyeon laughs again, and the condescension is so shrouded in fondness that zitao finds it hard to fault; he’d rather be adored and condescended to by joonmyeon than lauded by pretty much anyone else on earth. just having joonmyeon’s smile turned to him makes his belly liquid in ways he finds hard to verbalize.
"just let him be," joonmyeon advises. "you’re a big presence and it’s tough for him to handle a lot of the time, i think. and you know how he and jongin get about each other; if we all compared ourselves to that, then kyungsoo hates everyone."
zitao laughs a little, finally.
"and he’s annoyed because he’s been in bed all day and missing his lessons, so he’s being sharper than usual, and he’s not exactly soft to begin with. and but he doesn’t not like you, i promise."
"i don’t believe you."
"you’re mean to him a lot, too, you know." zitao winces and shrivels, curling a fist against joonmyeon’s waist." and you’re mean to jongin, and i know you’re joking and jongin knows you’re joking most lf the time, but… like i said, you know how they get."
zitao lets the criticism sting him and sink into his blood, fanning out through his body. if kris had told him the same thing, he’d be laughing. but from joonmyeon-hyung… “i thought you didn’t care too much for kyungsoo-hyung yourself, honestly.”
well, truth be told, zitao doesn’t. kyungsoo is sharp with him, and condescending in an un-joonmyeonish way even though they’re only a year apart, and wears ugly hats. he’s elitist and mean and likes to pretend he’s not in the maknae line, even though zitao knows that he definitely is, as far as minseok and luhan are concerned.
but joonmyeon really likes kyungsoo, which makes him precious and a cherished commodity to zitao. and if zitao could show joonmyeon how likeable he can be, how mature and good he can be about getting along with all the members, how responsible he can be in caring for them…then maybe joonmyeon would start to think of him as- as not such a child! as not such a vapid, sensitive, well-intentioned but ultimately selfish baby, which is so clear in every one of his fond but condescending smiles. as someone adult and cool and maybe even, in tao’s wildest dreams, as someone he could see as a peer. as someone he could maybe, one day, love.
like the way tao loves him.
joonmyeon’s sweater smells like joonmyeon, so zitao buries his face in it against his belly, the pause dragged out too long as zitao wallows in his own hopelessness.
"besides, i like you regardless of you giving me things," joonmyeon continues softly in the silence.
zitao looks up at joonmyeon from joonmyeon’s chest with curiosity and hope. ”but… i do give you things?” he retorts, voice soft and unsure.
joonmyeon runs another warm hand through zitao’s hair, looking down at him. zitao blinks back, confused and waiting. ”but that’s not why i like you, punk,” joonmyeon laughs warmly.
zitao’s lips curl into a small, squiggly, watery smile.
"really?" he asks, voice softer than ever.
a strange expression crosses joonmyeon’s face for a moment, before he tilts his head and blinks it back into a warm, hyungly smile.
"really," he promises, and zitao’s heart thumps so madly in his chest with hope, joonmyeon can probably feel it through their sweaters.
"i like you for reasons other than you buying stuff for me, too," zitao mumbles, muscles tense with the weight of his confession. was that too forward? will he know?
joonmyeon, for his part, does nothing but stroke his cheek and sigh.
knock knock.
"hyung, um, do you want some tea?"
"no thank you, tao."
"water?"
"no thank you, tao."
+
knock knock.
"um, luhan lent me this book, it’s pretty good? if you want to read-"
"thank you, tao, but i’m alright."
"i think i can get anything he needs, dude."
"i just- didn’t want to leave the burden all on one person?"
"oh?" "oh?"
"well… okay. rest well, kyungsoo-hyung."
"thank you, tao. jongin, can you pass the extra blanket?"
+
no knocking.
"i brought you some extra blankets from my room-"
"-oh god!"
"shit!"
"oh, were you two-? i’m sorry, i-"
"tao. it’s really okay, just-"
slam.
+
"what’s with him?"
"since when has he ever given a shit about ‘leaving the burden all on one person’? hey, kick the blankets back down, my feet are sticking out again and i can’t kick them back with my sprain. also get your cold toes off me, you thug!"
…
"better?"
"mmm, thanks."
"warm?"
"very."
"he probably want something from you. or us."
"hm."
+
back in his bedroom, zitao is tucked into his bed, turning the book over in his hands and flipping the pages nervously just to feel them move past his thumb. the pile of blankets rests at the foot of his bed, unused and unwanted.
there’s a weight at the end of his bed, and when zitao looks up, he smiles sadly, heart lifting. joonmyeon rests a fatherly hand on his knee.
"you look upset."
"i’m not upset."
"you’re upset."
"i’m not upset."
"zitao." joonmyeon slips out of his slippers and tucks his knees up, scooching his tiny frame between tao and the wall. he’s warm and so is his smile, and so is the hand in zitao’s hair.
unhesitant, he curls into joonmyeon’s chest, allowing himself to be coddled.
"you’re upset."
"i’m not upset. but unrelatedly, why doesn’t kyungsoo-hyung like me?"
joonmyeon sighs, and there’s a bit of a laugh to it, which makes tao’s brows wrinkle. he looks up furiously but joonmyeon, as usual, has nothing but supportive adoration in his eyes.
"what makes you think kyungsoo-hyung doesn’t like you?" repeating the name with the affectionate title still attached like zitao had said it, mirroring and affirming and mildly condescending all at once. zitao kind of likes it, feeling adequately mommied.
"i was just trying to be helpful," zitao says. "i know we don’t always get along, but he’s hurt and i wanted to… be good to him. i tried to bring him tea, books, blankets, water, anything… but he didn’t want me to get him anything, he only wanted jongin."
"he usually does."
"but how am i supposed to make him like me if i can’t give him things?”
joonmyeon laughs again, and the condescension is so shrouded in fondness that zitao finds it hard to fault; he’d rather be adored and condescended to by joonmyeon than lauded by pretty much anyone else on earth. just having joonmyeon’s smile turned to him makes his belly liquid in ways he finds hard to verbalize.
"just let him be," joonmyeon advises. "you’re a big presence and it’s tough for him to handle a lot of the time, i think. and you know how he and jongin get about each other; if we all compared ourselves to that, then kyungsoo hates everyone."
zitao laughs a little, finally.
"and he’s annoyed because he’s been in bed all day and missing his lessons, so he’s being sharper than usual, and he’s not exactly soft to begin with. and but he doesn’t not like you, i promise."
"i don’t believe you."
"you’re mean to him a lot, too, you know." zitao winces and shrivels, curling a fist against joonmyeon’s waist." and you’re mean to jongin, and i know you’re joking and jongin knows you’re joking most lf the time, but… like i said, you know how they get."
zitao lets the criticism sting him and sink into his blood, fanning out through his body. if kris had told him the same thing, he’d be laughing. but from joonmyeon-hyung… “i thought you didn’t care too much for kyungsoo-hyung yourself, honestly.”
well, truth be told, zitao doesn’t. kyungsoo is sharp with him, and condescending in an un-joonmyeonish way even though they’re only a year apart, and wears ugly hats. he’s elitist and mean and likes to pretend he’s not in the maknae line, even though zitao knows that he definitely is, as far as minseok and luhan are concerned.
but joonmyeon really likes kyungsoo, which makes him precious and a cherished commodity to zitao. and if zitao could show joonmyeon how likeable he can be, how mature and good he can be about getting along with all the members, how responsible he can be in caring for them…then maybe joonmyeon would start to think of him as- as not such a child! as not such a vapid, sensitive, well-intentioned but ultimately selfish baby, which is so clear in every one of his fond but condescending smiles. as someone adult and cool and maybe even, in tao’s wildest dreams, as someone he could see as a peer. as someone he could maybe, one day, love.
like the way tao loves him.
joonmyeon’s sweater smells like joonmyeon, so zitao buries his face in it against his belly, the pause dragged out too long as zitao wallows in his own hopelessness.
"besides, i like you regardless of you giving me things," joonmyeon continues softly in the silence.
zitao looks up at joonmyeon from joonmyeon’s chest with curiosity and hope. ”but… i do give you things?” he retorts, voice soft and unsure.
joonmyeon runs another warm hand through zitao’s hair, looking down at him. zitao blinks back, confused and waiting. ”but that’s not why i like you, punk,” joonmyeon laughs warmly.
zitao’s lips curl into a small, squiggly, watery smile.
"really?" he asks, voice softer than ever.
a strange expression crosses joonmyeon’s face for a moment, before he tilts his head and blinks it back into a warm, hyungly smile.
"really," he promises, and zitao’s heart thumps so madly in his chest with hope, joonmyeon can probably feel it through their sweaters.
"i like you for reasons other than you buying stuff for me, too," zitao mumbles, muscles tense with the weight of his confession. was that too forward? will he know?
joonmyeon, for his part, does nothing but stroke his cheek and sigh.