step of the cat; hanchul.
step of the cat.
hanchul, 4785wrds.
One afternoon when Heechul is lounging on the couch and whining dramatically about his injured leg causing serious, serious lifelong damage, that he'll never be the same again, that it's a good thing he has his beautiful face to fall back on, Hankyung blurts out an offer to teach him ballet. He realises how ridiculous the idea is when Heechul sits up and stares at him, his mouth hanging open comically.
"Never mind!" Hankyung says quickly, stumbling over tricky Korean words in his haste. "I mean, you probably don't want to..."
He trails off awkwardly as Heechul flashes him a grin, and stupidly, absurdly, he thinks he can feel himself blushing under that radiant smile. Stupid, stupid, he thinks, mentally rebuking himself. Shiwon never blushes when Heechul smiles at him, and Heechul touches Shiwon. He touches him all the time in that casual way that Hankyung knows comes from not even thinking twice about the act. He feels a funny, tight feeling in his stomach, and imagines it spreading all through his body, down his arms and to his fingertips, until he is infused with weird. He's avoiding Heechul's gaze, but that turns out to be a bad idea, because now he's staring at Heechul's shirt. It's pink and covered in flowers and should be incredibly ugly, but Heechul carries it off in the same way he can wear fluffy pink slippers in public and no one will blink an eye. The shirt is old and too small, and it's all scrunched up on one side, revealing miles of fair, smooth skin, the curve of one hip with a love heart drawn on - the only thing Heechul's done all afternoon except whine and play games on his computer. Hankyung had watched him stretch out on the couch, run those long, long fingers over his skin and press down hard with the tip of a thick black marker, inking elaborate swirls and patterns into his flesh. He blushes again when he notices the silence stretching between Heechul and himself, the other boy watching him curiously.
"Ballet, then," Hankyung finally manages, tearing his eyes away from Heechul's waist.
"Do I have to wear a tutu?" Heechul snips back, all flashing teeth and another cheeky smile, and Hankyung is totally gone again.
--
It's less awkward than Hankyung thought it might be, less ridiculous, because even though Heechul is possibly one of the worst dancers in Super Junior, he still has some kind of innate, charismatic grace that can draw just about anybody to him. Being watched by Kim Heechul is a dangerous feeling. He wears tight, skinny pants and more often than not he just stretches then sits on the floor and watches Hankyung dance. It's weird, seeing Heechul so quiet. Hankyung doesn't know what to make of it so he dances the ballet he learnt in Beijing. He dances adaptations of old Chinese love stories; channels his confusion into something tangible, something he knows. Sometimes when he glances at Heechul he thinks he sees some thread of understanding, but when he looks again it's gone and in its place is Heechul cracking jokes about his ballet being a hell of a lot better than his grasp of the Korean language. He knows it's a joke, Heechul's way of being friendly, but he feels the words twist painfully inside his chest. He thinks that Heechul will never understand the music and the angle of his leg as he flies though the air, will never understand that this is the only way Hankyung can show him how he feels. He'll never understand it in the same way that he'll never understand Hankyung's occasional Mandarin. Hankyung feels a barrier stretching out between them and he wants to press his palms to it, wants to break through and into the easy friendships Heechul has with so many other people. Heechul will never understand and Hankyung feels a world away, tiny and insignificant in comparison to everyone else in Heechul's life.
They do this every morning in the space between sunrise and breakfast. Hankyung has never stopped to consider the fact that Heechul has always complained about getting up. With him, however, Heechul is quiet and soft-eyed, his mouth opening in a sleepy o as he lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. Hankyung sprains his ankle one day when he's not concentrating, when he's lost in thoughts of Heechul's mouth, of the gentle play of sunlight across his face. He lands badly and lets out a sharp yell. Heechul scrambles up and over to him, shaking his head.
"You idiot," he says, and pokes Hankyung's ankle with one finger, watching as he lets out a yelp of pain. "Why are you so stupid?"
Hankyung glares at Heechul, kicks out at him with his uninjured foot. "I'm not stupid, everyone falls."
Heechul rolls his eyes and mimics Hankyung's odd speech patterns. "You're so clumsy. Some ballet dancer." Hankyung knows he's lying as he says it and catches the flash of amusement in Heechul's eyes. The moment feels odd, Heechul's fingers lightly probing at his already swollen ankle and Hankyung can feel that familiar blush returning.
"Don't make fun of my Korean, I'm Chinese," he blurts out just to divert attention from the feeling of Heechul's cool fingers moving over his foot. Heechul answers in the same old way, half-pouting and giving Hankyung's foot a small shake.
"You're Korean now!" He snaps, and Hankyung thinks he sees something in Heechul's eyes, the same expression he thinks he can see sometimes when Heechul is watching him dance.
--
Hankyung is on crutches and he hates it. He lays on his bed and watches movies, tragic love stories squeezed into an-hour-and-something of Hong Kong cinema. These movies are full of misunderstandings and a lot of them end in death. Hankyung tries to imagine Heechul's ghost sadly wandering after him for eternity, invisible fingers tracing love hearts on his bathroom mirror. He thinks it's more likely that Heechul would rattle chains in the night and giggle when his victims screamed and ran from their beds. Shindong's horrified face floats behind his closed eyelids and he fights back a smile. Shindong is terrified of ghosts. He'd make an excellent target. All thoughts of the undead are forgotten when Heechul leaps onto Hankyung's bed and the frame rattles alarmingly against the wall. Hankyung feels very much alive with Heechul this close.
"What are you watching?" He asks, already draping himself across Hankyung's lap like a cat. Hankyung goes still and forces himself to reply. The movie rolls on and Heechul watches, keeping up a constant stream of questions about Chinese actors and Chinese pop and how he is totally, totally hotter than Jay Chou and why is Hankyung watching romantic movies in Chinese, anyway?
Hankyung stares down at Heechul, meets those wide, wicked eyes and shrugs. "I like them," he says.
"But why?" Heechul repeats, rolling his eyes and shifting a little in Hankyung's lap. His fingers creep up Hankyung's waist and linger at the top of his jeans, his thumb stroking the sliver of bared skin there. It's nice, Hankyung thinks distantly. Heechul's thumb is moving slowly and it's warm, and Hankyung can feel that heat in his stomach again, spreading out from the spot Heechul is touching. Goosebumps prickle his skin and he hopes Heechul doesn't notice. Heechul does this with everyone. He likes to touch and flirt with his friends, to hang off them like a teenage girl. Hankyung tells himself this; has told himself this for months, but it doesn't make the way Heechul is touching him feel any less nice.
"I like them, hyung," he says again, continuing when Heechul sticks his tongue out. He tries to explain, but he's a little lost for words, and he falters. "Sometimes they wait outside in the rain for each other and then they get sick." Heechul is staring at him now, one perfect eyebrow raised.
"And that's romantic?"
Hankyung shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain to Heechul that scenes like throwing yourself into your lover's open grave can be seen as a way of expressing your eternal devotion. Hankyung's not even sure he quite believes it himself, but memories of watching these movies with his mother come back to him. He remembers the box of tissues by her side, the way her hand would hold his tightly, big and warm and comforting while onscreen Andy Lau gambled his way through life.
"What are you thinking?" Heechul's voice is quiet again and he's looking at Hankyung in that gentle way that Hankyung never sees when Heechul is busy having tickle fights with Donghae or hyperactively dancing with Shindong to some girly song. Hankyung watches Heechul's hair fall across his face and pretends that the butterflies in his stomach are just a side effect of watching romantic movies all day.
He shrugs again and his eyes drift down to watch Heechul's thumb stroke the curve of his hip. Hankyung can feel his pulse throbbing there, his heart beating in time with the tickle of fingers creeping along his hipbone. This is a different kind of dance, slow and quiet, and Heechul's thumb stills as his eyes catch Hankyung's.
"People don't have to die to prove their love, Hankyung," Heechul says at last, surprisingly serious and weird in the fact that Heechul just doesn't say those things. Hankyung is about to ask what he means when Heechul abruptly rolls off the bed and makes his way to the door. Hankyung watches his back as he goes, skinny frame draped in a shirt that's a blinding shade of orange. He watches the sway of Heechul's hips and imagines he can still feel the ghost of Heechul's thumb on his waist, pressing in while those dark eyes watch him.
--
Hankyung dreams that night. He dreams that night and the night after and the next, and all of them feature Heechul. Heechul is a cop who has fallen to the wrong side of the tracks and it's up to Hankyung to help him find his way back. He's some kind of royalty, arrogant and pushy until he meets Hankyung, the poor farmer's son and falls in love. His favourite dreams are the secret kind that make heat pool in his belly when he thinks about them. Heechul pressed down into the bed underneath him, his bony wrists held tight above his head as Hankyung moves his lips over Heechul's collarbone. They're all thin, the job calls for a pretty strict diet, but Heechul is all sharp angles and an even sharper tongue at times. Heechul is beautiful and he knows it, knows it like other people know they're great at singing or dancing and Hankyung doesn't mean that being beautiful is Heechul's only talent, just that he's damn good at it. Eeteuk is pretty; beyond pretty, really, Sungmin is adorable and Shiwon and Kibum are handsome, but Heechul knows how to get what he wants from people with just a look and shake of those hips. Hankyung wakes up each morning feeling increasingly confused and frustrated. He doesn't know what to do and it's worse than missing a step in rehearsal, because he has no idea know how to practice this kind of dance, doesn't know how to make it right.
--
When his foot is healed he waits for Heechul in the room they've unofficially dubbed the dance studio and he can't help but feel hurt and insulted and sad all at once when Heechul never shows. He tells himself that he's being silly, that of course Heechul has better things to do, but when he walks into the kitchen and sees Heechul giggling into Kibum's shoulder he feels like he's going to cry, and that's just ridiculous because he hasn't cried in years, or at least not since he left his mother to fly to Korea. He wasn't really that much younger than he is now, but he feels like he was just a kid then, like it was a lifetime ago. He was just a kid with big dreams of being a star. He bets that boy never thought it would be like this. It's so stupid, but when Heechul glances up and goes quiet, Hankyung's face freezes in a fake smile - the kind they all wear for the media - and he backs out of the kitchen, apologising and bowing over and over until he's out of the room and he can make a run for it, can lock himself in the bathroom and pretend nothing ever happened.
He hears a knock at the door and he knows it's Heechul. He ignores it and Heechul knocks again, calling his name in a voice that makes Hankyung feel hot and prickly all over.
"Hankyung," he's saying, voice low and just a little panicked. "It's not-" He breaks off as Kibum mumbles something and whatever they say next is lost to Hankyung because all he hears is rapid-fire Korean, Heechul's voice getting progressively higher and higher and Kibum sounding incredibly bewildered.
"I'm taking a shower, hyung," Hankyung calls out at last, when he can trust himself to speak, and he turns on the water without waiting for an answer. When he finally emerges from the bathroom Heechul is nowhere to be found and Kibum just stares at him quizzically, confusion written all over his handsome face.
--
Hankyung wakes up in the middle of the night to find Heechul staring at him. His face is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window and it all feels very clichéd, but Hankyung's breath catches in his throat anyway. The top button of Heechul's pyjama top is undone and Hankyung stares at the slender line of his neck disappearing into cheap cotton while Heechul clears his throat.
"It's not like that," Heechul says at last, voice breaking the silence and sounding just a little bitchy. Hankyung doesn't know how to answer so he just stares at Heechul, the blood pounding in his ears. "Kibum and I. It's not really what you think." Hankyung thinks he should probably say something, but he doesn't know what. He's fretting over it when Heechul pinches him, fingers twisting at his flesh. Heechul claps a hand over Hankyung's mouth to muffle his cry of pain and Hankyung can see a glimpse of uncertainty in Heechul's eyes. It disappears when Heechul speaks again.
"You're so annoying, move over."
A startled "Hyung!" is all Hankyung can utter before Heechul slides into bed next to him. Hankyung's bed is small; all their beds are, and to stay on it Heechul has to fling one arm across Hankyung and tangle his fingers in the cotton of his pyjama pants, bunching them up at the side. Heechul's hair tickles Hankyung's cheek as he moves. Hankyung can feel Heechul's breath on the side of his neck, too, and he stares up at his ceiling and feels more awkward than he has ever felt in his life. Heechul seems to be asleep, he notes with growing hysteria. Heechul is asleep and in his bed. He doesn't think he can ever sleep, ever ever ever again, but he drifts off eventually, Heechul's arm heavy across his chest.
Heechul makes his way to Hankyung's bed each night and Hankyung wants to question it, because he's really very confused. He's worried that asking Heechul just what he thinks he's doing will make him stop creeping into his bed at odd hours, and he doesn't want that. It's just awkward, really, really awkward, waking up from a dream about Heechul and feeling the other boy right there, warm and real and pressed up against his side. Sometimes he lets his fingers creep over Heechul's shoulder and up his neck. One night Hankyung wakes up and does just this, except his fingers move along Heechul's hip this time and under the bottom of his pyjama top. He presses his palm to that spot and can tell just when Heechul wakes up because he goes still, too still for anyone who is actually asleep. Hankyung has panicked thoughts about Heechul pushing him out of bed and screaming rape at the top of his lungs, but Heechul doesn't move and Hankyung feels more daring than he ever has in his life. Perhaps it's the weeks of frustration and bewilderment doing it, but right now he doesn't care. Heechul's breath is hot on Hankyung's neck just like an invitation and he can feel the pounding of Heechul's heart against his side. He moves his fingers slowly and lowers his eyes to watch. He stares for a very long time at the picture the two of them make. He didn't think that he could feel like this, but his big hand, dark against the crisp white of Heechul's pyjamas feels better than almost anything. It feels like he's still dreaming when Heechul slides his hand over Hankyung's, and then Heechul is shifting and climbing up Hankyung's long body. Up, up, up, until his fingers are resting on Hankyung's cheek.
"Silly," Heechul says quietly, just an exhale of breath but Hankyung hears it, and then Heechul's lips catch the side of his mouth and he's warm and pliant on top of him, his hair falling into Hankyung's eyes as he kisses him. Hankyung runs his hands down Heechul's sides and feels him shiver and make a funny, hitching sound in the back of his throat. Heechul pulls back slightly; all flushed cheeks and bright eyes, his mouth wet and open. Hankyung can't stop staring at him because he's beautiful, and he's going to tell Heechul this but he stops himself just in time. He doesn't want to sound like a girl. When Heechul finally falls asleep on his chest, Hankyung is wide awake for hours. He's not sure what this all means, if Heechul does this with everyone or if it's something different, something more.
--
Heechul being part of Super Junior Trot is both great and terrible, at least in Hankyung's eyes. Trot practices a lot these days and Hankyung doesn't know whether to be relieved or jealous when he wakes up and finds only a Heechul-shaped indent in his bed. Heechul gets home late, tired and snappy, and when Hankyung sees him he scribbles at a notepad and tries to look busy. He stares so hard at the page that the words swim in front of his eyes and he jumps when Heechul leans his chin on his shoulder.
"What are you writing?" Heechul asks, his lips dangerously close to Hankyung's ear.
Hankyung keeps staring down at the page and his brain freezes. It was easy enough to grab the notebook, but...
"LYRICS!" he shouts desperately and snaps the book shut.
"Lyrics," Heechul repeats. His voice is flat and dull and when he stands up and moves around to face Hankyung he looks annoyed. "You're writing lyrics."
Hankyung clutches at the notebook so tightly his knuckles turn white, and for a brief moment he wonders when he got so nervous around Heechul, because the two of them used to joke and fight all the time.
"No," he says, and now he wonders why he can't just keep his mouth shut.
"No?" Heechul looks even angrier than before. "Then what are you writing, Hankyung?" Hankyung remembers the last time Heechul was like this. He remembers it clearly, and he also recalls that it ended in Heechul throwing a dinner plate at Kangin's head.
"It's a cyworld post," Hankyung blurts out, "...for my cyworld."
Heechul has his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised and he looks so much like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum that Hankyung has a sudden urge to buy him an ice cream and pat him on the head. Except Heechul would probably be the kind of kid who would bite, so Hankyung quickly dismisses that idea.
"Huan ying, wo de ge mi," he improvises, words tumbling out under Heechul's icy stare. "For my Chinese fans."
Heechul makes a furious sound and storms off towards his bedroom. The next moment he slams the door so hard that Hankyung can imagine he sees the walls shake.
When Heechul gets into these moods Jay is usually the one to comfort him, to shake him out of it and call Heechul his girlfriend and make him smile, but Jay is around less and less these days. When Hankyung tentatively opens Heechul's door and raises that point -- offering his apologies of course, Heechul rolls over on his bed, screams, and hurls a pillow at Hankyung's face.
"You idiot!"
"I," Hankyung pauses, dodges another feathery missile. "Hyung, I know you miss him-" But Heechul is up off the bed and in front of him in the blink of an eye and he pushes hard at Hankyung's chest, his eyes narrowed and suspiciously shiny.
"This isn't about him," he spits, and he shoves Hankyung out into the hall.
Then he slams the door in Hankyung's face. Hankyung stares at it and his breath comes quickly. He knows he should be more worried about Heechul's mental state, but right now his brain is back at Heechul's hand on his chest, hot even though the thin shirt he is wearing. He feels hopeless and ashamed and as he stands there, Kibum passes by and pats him on the shoulder.
"'Rella doesn't crawl into everyone's bed in the middle of the night," he says dryly before walking away, and Hankyung's cheeks burn an embarrassing shade of crimson.
--
Hankyung knows he has been forgiven for - okay, he has no idea what he actually did apart from the whole Heechul-in-his-bed thing, and he thinks that was more Heechul's fault than his, because if you think about it, Hankyung didn't actually even get out of bed. It was Heechul who slid in next to him and Heechul who kissed him and Heechul who screamed at him in angry, angry Korean the next day. Hankyung is more than a little confused and he suspects it's not just a cultural misunderstanding. He'd like to get some advice on the matter, but every time he talks to Kibum and gets ready to bring up the subject he can feel the younger boy inwardly laughing at him.
So Hankyung knows that he has been forgiven when Heechul demands to be brought a glass of water. In exchange, he magnanimously offers, he will let Hankyung join his Lineage clan. When Hankyung points out that almost anyone can join his clan, Heechul upends the water over Hankyung's head then looks properly ashamed and lends Hankyung his shirt to dry himself with.
"It's not even an old one," Heechul says, eyeing Hankyung from his seat in front of the computer. "And it's my favourite." The shirt is fluoro pink and makes Hankyung's head ache. It has green feathers at the bottom. Heechul catches Hankyung looking at them and he beams.
"I sewed those on myself."
He sounds incredibly proud as the words leave his mouth and Hankyung stares at the lines of soft feathers, uneven stitches and sequins. He didn't even know that thread came in glittery pink. He finds himself wondering if it was a gift from Sungmin and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.
He's pulled over to the computer by one arm as Heechul pushes him into the seat. Leaning against Hankyung's side, hot and solid he snaps--
"Are you even paying attention? This is important, you know. You can't join my bloodpledge if you're a moron. It's-" He waves his hands around in horror suddenly, and points to the screen, jumping up and down on one leg. "THERE'S A CLAN MEETING SCHEDULED IN TWO MINUTES AND RELLAFLOWER ISN'T EVEN THERE."
He throws himself into Hankyung's lap, skinny limbs flailing, grabbing onto the desk for support and then typing with a startling speed on the keyboard.
Clack-clack-clack- "YES," Heechul cries, his eyes feverishly bright. "WAIT FOR ME, MY PRECIOUS PETALS."
Hankyung feels awkward and silent and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Heechul shifts around every couple of seconds like a child squirming in excitement and he's surprisingly heavy on Hankyung's lap. It's weird, because Heechul is such a girl sometimes, but like this, even waving his arms around in excitement, Hankyung knows he is anything but.
"I'm their leader," Heechul is saying, poking his finger enthusiastically at the monitor. "I just want to do right by them."
Hankyung makes a sound of agreement and stares at Heechul's avatar. It's wearing devil horns. Heechul catches him looking and he grins.
"That's RellaFlower," he says, and he shifts in position to smirk at Hankyung. "He's practically drowning in charisma points."
Heechul is like this so often on stage; this confident, glittering idol, smiling and winking and beckoning to the audience, that it's hard to tell where SM Entertainment's creation ends and Kim Heechul begins. His grin falters somewhat as he meets Hankyung's eyes, and for a brief moment Hankyung worries that Heechul can read his thoughts.
"What did you want to be when you were little?" Hankyung asks abruptly, and he can tell that Heechul is sifting through the pages of ready-made answers in his head. They're all taught early never to be caught out.
"Famous and popular," Heechul says promptly, and catching Hankyung's look he rolls his eyes. "What? Everyone wants that."
Hankyung smiles at him and feels bold as he slides his palm over Heechul's leg and rests it there. When he looks at Heechul the other boy's mouth is twisted into a funny sort of half-smile, and he elaborates with a wave of his hand.
"I didn't have to wish for beauty, I was born with these incredibly good looks."
"You are," Hankyung says without thinking, and he lifts one hand to run his fingers down Heechul's smooth cheek. It's been a long time coming. "You are beautiful, hyung."
All of a sudden Heechul slides off Hankyung's lap.
"You can't just say things like that," he says, and now his eyes are dark and angry as he scowls at Hankyung. "Not when you don't-" He breaks off and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks tiny and vulnerable as he stands there, and Hankyung isn't sure what to do. He's never seen Heechul quite like this.
"What?" Hankyung finally asks, still sitting dumbly in the computer chair, and Heechul looks angrier than ever.
"YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THOSE THINGS TO PEOPLE!" Heechul shrieks, on the verge of a tantrum.
"You kissed me!" Hankyung blurts out, and he jumps up from the chair to grab Heechul's wrist. It's thin and delicate and Hankyung worries for a moment that he'll break it if he squeezes too hard, but that's before Heechul wrenches his arm away from Hankyung and slaps him across the face.
"Don't touch me!"
"YOU KISSED ME!" Hankyung shouts again, his cheek burning, and he starts to wonder if he's going insane. They work long hours for crappy pay, fans are always after a piece of them; it makes a lot of sense that he's finally cracking up.
"Whatever!" Heechul screams back, "It couldn't have meant much to you, not if you just ignored the fact that it ever fucking happened!"
Heechul's face is pale and pinched, and Hankyung wants to grab him by the shoulders, run his hands over Heechul's features and across his forehead. He wants to smooth out the hurt expression and make everything okay, because Heechul being sad is unnatural and wrong and all things horrible.
"I didn't ignore you!" Hankyung says, his eyes on Heechul. "I didn't, you were just-"
Heechul makes a small sound of derision and Hankyung just gives up on words and pushes him against the wall instead, cups Heechul's cheek in one hand and presses his lips to the line of that stubborn jaw, to the corner of Heechul's mouth, because there's no way that he can misunderstand that. When he draws back, he notes that Heechul is quiet and a little flushed, but his eyes are shining and he hasn't slapped Hankyung yet, which is always a good sign. When he kisses him again, slow and sweet in the patch of sunlight by the window, Heechul just grins somewhat shyly and murmurs, "It took you long enough. You know I only agreed to the ballet thing because I thought you'd wear tights, right?" Hankyung is pretty sure that Heechul is completely insane, slapping him one minute and swooning in his arms the next, but he finds that he doesn't really care; because it's Heechul, and he's funny and stunning and so unashamedly himself that he always takes Hankyung by surprise.
hanchul, 4785wrds.
One afternoon when Heechul is lounging on the couch and whining dramatically about his injured leg causing serious, serious lifelong damage, that he'll never be the same again, that it's a good thing he has his beautiful face to fall back on, Hankyung blurts out an offer to teach him ballet. He realises how ridiculous the idea is when Heechul sits up and stares at him, his mouth hanging open comically.
"Never mind!" Hankyung says quickly, stumbling over tricky Korean words in his haste. "I mean, you probably don't want to..."
He trails off awkwardly as Heechul flashes him a grin, and stupidly, absurdly, he thinks he can feel himself blushing under that radiant smile. Stupid, stupid, he thinks, mentally rebuking himself. Shiwon never blushes when Heechul smiles at him, and Heechul touches Shiwon. He touches him all the time in that casual way that Hankyung knows comes from not even thinking twice about the act. He feels a funny, tight feeling in his stomach, and imagines it spreading all through his body, down his arms and to his fingertips, until he is infused with weird. He's avoiding Heechul's gaze, but that turns out to be a bad idea, because now he's staring at Heechul's shirt. It's pink and covered in flowers and should be incredibly ugly, but Heechul carries it off in the same way he can wear fluffy pink slippers in public and no one will blink an eye. The shirt is old and too small, and it's all scrunched up on one side, revealing miles of fair, smooth skin, the curve of one hip with a love heart drawn on - the only thing Heechul's done all afternoon except whine and play games on his computer. Hankyung had watched him stretch out on the couch, run those long, long fingers over his skin and press down hard with the tip of a thick black marker, inking elaborate swirls and patterns into his flesh. He blushes again when he notices the silence stretching between Heechul and himself, the other boy watching him curiously.
"Ballet, then," Hankyung finally manages, tearing his eyes away from Heechul's waist.
"Do I have to wear a tutu?" Heechul snips back, all flashing teeth and another cheeky smile, and Hankyung is totally gone again.
--
It's less awkward than Hankyung thought it might be, less ridiculous, because even though Heechul is possibly one of the worst dancers in Super Junior, he still has some kind of innate, charismatic grace that can draw just about anybody to him. Being watched by Kim Heechul is a dangerous feeling. He wears tight, skinny pants and more often than not he just stretches then sits on the floor and watches Hankyung dance. It's weird, seeing Heechul so quiet. Hankyung doesn't know what to make of it so he dances the ballet he learnt in Beijing. He dances adaptations of old Chinese love stories; channels his confusion into something tangible, something he knows. Sometimes when he glances at Heechul he thinks he sees some thread of understanding, but when he looks again it's gone and in its place is Heechul cracking jokes about his ballet being a hell of a lot better than his grasp of the Korean language. He knows it's a joke, Heechul's way of being friendly, but he feels the words twist painfully inside his chest. He thinks that Heechul will never understand the music and the angle of his leg as he flies though the air, will never understand that this is the only way Hankyung can show him how he feels. He'll never understand it in the same way that he'll never understand Hankyung's occasional Mandarin. Hankyung feels a barrier stretching out between them and he wants to press his palms to it, wants to break through and into the easy friendships Heechul has with so many other people. Heechul will never understand and Hankyung feels a world away, tiny and insignificant in comparison to everyone else in Heechul's life.
They do this every morning in the space between sunrise and breakfast. Hankyung has never stopped to consider the fact that Heechul has always complained about getting up. With him, however, Heechul is quiet and soft-eyed, his mouth opening in a sleepy o as he lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. Hankyung sprains his ankle one day when he's not concentrating, when he's lost in thoughts of Heechul's mouth, of the gentle play of sunlight across his face. He lands badly and lets out a sharp yell. Heechul scrambles up and over to him, shaking his head.
"You idiot," he says, and pokes Hankyung's ankle with one finger, watching as he lets out a yelp of pain. "Why are you so stupid?"
Hankyung glares at Heechul, kicks out at him with his uninjured foot. "I'm not stupid, everyone falls."
Heechul rolls his eyes and mimics Hankyung's odd speech patterns. "You're so clumsy. Some ballet dancer." Hankyung knows he's lying as he says it and catches the flash of amusement in Heechul's eyes. The moment feels odd, Heechul's fingers lightly probing at his already swollen ankle and Hankyung can feel that familiar blush returning.
"Don't make fun of my Korean, I'm Chinese," he blurts out just to divert attention from the feeling of Heechul's cool fingers moving over his foot. Heechul answers in the same old way, half-pouting and giving Hankyung's foot a small shake.
"You're Korean now!" He snaps, and Hankyung thinks he sees something in Heechul's eyes, the same expression he thinks he can see sometimes when Heechul is watching him dance.
--
Hankyung is on crutches and he hates it. He lays on his bed and watches movies, tragic love stories squeezed into an-hour-and-something of Hong Kong cinema. These movies are full of misunderstandings and a lot of them end in death. Hankyung tries to imagine Heechul's ghost sadly wandering after him for eternity, invisible fingers tracing love hearts on his bathroom mirror. He thinks it's more likely that Heechul would rattle chains in the night and giggle when his victims screamed and ran from their beds. Shindong's horrified face floats behind his closed eyelids and he fights back a smile. Shindong is terrified of ghosts. He'd make an excellent target. All thoughts of the undead are forgotten when Heechul leaps onto Hankyung's bed and the frame rattles alarmingly against the wall. Hankyung feels very much alive with Heechul this close.
"What are you watching?" He asks, already draping himself across Hankyung's lap like a cat. Hankyung goes still and forces himself to reply. The movie rolls on and Heechul watches, keeping up a constant stream of questions about Chinese actors and Chinese pop and how he is totally, totally hotter than Jay Chou and why is Hankyung watching romantic movies in Chinese, anyway?
Hankyung stares down at Heechul, meets those wide, wicked eyes and shrugs. "I like them," he says.
"But why?" Heechul repeats, rolling his eyes and shifting a little in Hankyung's lap. His fingers creep up Hankyung's waist and linger at the top of his jeans, his thumb stroking the sliver of bared skin there. It's nice, Hankyung thinks distantly. Heechul's thumb is moving slowly and it's warm, and Hankyung can feel that heat in his stomach again, spreading out from the spot Heechul is touching. Goosebumps prickle his skin and he hopes Heechul doesn't notice. Heechul does this with everyone. He likes to touch and flirt with his friends, to hang off them like a teenage girl. Hankyung tells himself this; has told himself this for months, but it doesn't make the way Heechul is touching him feel any less nice.
"I like them, hyung," he says again, continuing when Heechul sticks his tongue out. He tries to explain, but he's a little lost for words, and he falters. "Sometimes they wait outside in the rain for each other and then they get sick." Heechul is staring at him now, one perfect eyebrow raised.
"And that's romantic?"
Hankyung shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain to Heechul that scenes like throwing yourself into your lover's open grave can be seen as a way of expressing your eternal devotion. Hankyung's not even sure he quite believes it himself, but memories of watching these movies with his mother come back to him. He remembers the box of tissues by her side, the way her hand would hold his tightly, big and warm and comforting while onscreen Andy Lau gambled his way through life.
"What are you thinking?" Heechul's voice is quiet again and he's looking at Hankyung in that gentle way that Hankyung never sees when Heechul is busy having tickle fights with Donghae or hyperactively dancing with Shindong to some girly song. Hankyung watches Heechul's hair fall across his face and pretends that the butterflies in his stomach are just a side effect of watching romantic movies all day.
He shrugs again and his eyes drift down to watch Heechul's thumb stroke the curve of his hip. Hankyung can feel his pulse throbbing there, his heart beating in time with the tickle of fingers creeping along his hipbone. This is a different kind of dance, slow and quiet, and Heechul's thumb stills as his eyes catch Hankyung's.
"People don't have to die to prove their love, Hankyung," Heechul says at last, surprisingly serious and weird in the fact that Heechul just doesn't say those things. Hankyung is about to ask what he means when Heechul abruptly rolls off the bed and makes his way to the door. Hankyung watches his back as he goes, skinny frame draped in a shirt that's a blinding shade of orange. He watches the sway of Heechul's hips and imagines he can still feel the ghost of Heechul's thumb on his waist, pressing in while those dark eyes watch him.
--
Hankyung dreams that night. He dreams that night and the night after and the next, and all of them feature Heechul. Heechul is a cop who has fallen to the wrong side of the tracks and it's up to Hankyung to help him find his way back. He's some kind of royalty, arrogant and pushy until he meets Hankyung, the poor farmer's son and falls in love. His favourite dreams are the secret kind that make heat pool in his belly when he thinks about them. Heechul pressed down into the bed underneath him, his bony wrists held tight above his head as Hankyung moves his lips over Heechul's collarbone. They're all thin, the job calls for a pretty strict diet, but Heechul is all sharp angles and an even sharper tongue at times. Heechul is beautiful and he knows it, knows it like other people know they're great at singing or dancing and Hankyung doesn't mean that being beautiful is Heechul's only talent, just that he's damn good at it. Eeteuk is pretty; beyond pretty, really, Sungmin is adorable and Shiwon and Kibum are handsome, but Heechul knows how to get what he wants from people with just a look and shake of those hips. Hankyung wakes up each morning feeling increasingly confused and frustrated. He doesn't know what to do and it's worse than missing a step in rehearsal, because he has no idea know how to practice this kind of dance, doesn't know how to make it right.
--
When his foot is healed he waits for Heechul in the room they've unofficially dubbed the dance studio and he can't help but feel hurt and insulted and sad all at once when Heechul never shows. He tells himself that he's being silly, that of course Heechul has better things to do, but when he walks into the kitchen and sees Heechul giggling into Kibum's shoulder he feels like he's going to cry, and that's just ridiculous because he hasn't cried in years, or at least not since he left his mother to fly to Korea. He wasn't really that much younger than he is now, but he feels like he was just a kid then, like it was a lifetime ago. He was just a kid with big dreams of being a star. He bets that boy never thought it would be like this. It's so stupid, but when Heechul glances up and goes quiet, Hankyung's face freezes in a fake smile - the kind they all wear for the media - and he backs out of the kitchen, apologising and bowing over and over until he's out of the room and he can make a run for it, can lock himself in the bathroom and pretend nothing ever happened.
He hears a knock at the door and he knows it's Heechul. He ignores it and Heechul knocks again, calling his name in a voice that makes Hankyung feel hot and prickly all over.
"Hankyung," he's saying, voice low and just a little panicked. "It's not-" He breaks off as Kibum mumbles something and whatever they say next is lost to Hankyung because all he hears is rapid-fire Korean, Heechul's voice getting progressively higher and higher and Kibum sounding incredibly bewildered.
"I'm taking a shower, hyung," Hankyung calls out at last, when he can trust himself to speak, and he turns on the water without waiting for an answer. When he finally emerges from the bathroom Heechul is nowhere to be found and Kibum just stares at him quizzically, confusion written all over his handsome face.
--
Hankyung wakes up in the middle of the night to find Heechul staring at him. His face is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window and it all feels very clichéd, but Hankyung's breath catches in his throat anyway. The top button of Heechul's pyjama top is undone and Hankyung stares at the slender line of his neck disappearing into cheap cotton while Heechul clears his throat.
"It's not like that," Heechul says at last, voice breaking the silence and sounding just a little bitchy. Hankyung doesn't know how to answer so he just stares at Heechul, the blood pounding in his ears. "Kibum and I. It's not really what you think." Hankyung thinks he should probably say something, but he doesn't know what. He's fretting over it when Heechul pinches him, fingers twisting at his flesh. Heechul claps a hand over Hankyung's mouth to muffle his cry of pain and Hankyung can see a glimpse of uncertainty in Heechul's eyes. It disappears when Heechul speaks again.
"You're so annoying, move over."
A startled "Hyung!" is all Hankyung can utter before Heechul slides into bed next to him. Hankyung's bed is small; all their beds are, and to stay on it Heechul has to fling one arm across Hankyung and tangle his fingers in the cotton of his pyjama pants, bunching them up at the side. Heechul's hair tickles Hankyung's cheek as he moves. Hankyung can feel Heechul's breath on the side of his neck, too, and he stares up at his ceiling and feels more awkward than he has ever felt in his life. Heechul seems to be asleep, he notes with growing hysteria. Heechul is asleep and in his bed. He doesn't think he can ever sleep, ever ever ever again, but he drifts off eventually, Heechul's arm heavy across his chest.
Heechul makes his way to Hankyung's bed each night and Hankyung wants to question it, because he's really very confused. He's worried that asking Heechul just what he thinks he's doing will make him stop creeping into his bed at odd hours, and he doesn't want that. It's just awkward, really, really awkward, waking up from a dream about Heechul and feeling the other boy right there, warm and real and pressed up against his side. Sometimes he lets his fingers creep over Heechul's shoulder and up his neck. One night Hankyung wakes up and does just this, except his fingers move along Heechul's hip this time and under the bottom of his pyjama top. He presses his palm to that spot and can tell just when Heechul wakes up because he goes still, too still for anyone who is actually asleep. Hankyung has panicked thoughts about Heechul pushing him out of bed and screaming rape at the top of his lungs, but Heechul doesn't move and Hankyung feels more daring than he ever has in his life. Perhaps it's the weeks of frustration and bewilderment doing it, but right now he doesn't care. Heechul's breath is hot on Hankyung's neck just like an invitation and he can feel the pounding of Heechul's heart against his side. He moves his fingers slowly and lowers his eyes to watch. He stares for a very long time at the picture the two of them make. He didn't think that he could feel like this, but his big hand, dark against the crisp white of Heechul's pyjamas feels better than almost anything. It feels like he's still dreaming when Heechul slides his hand over Hankyung's, and then Heechul is shifting and climbing up Hankyung's long body. Up, up, up, until his fingers are resting on Hankyung's cheek.
"Silly," Heechul says quietly, just an exhale of breath but Hankyung hears it, and then Heechul's lips catch the side of his mouth and he's warm and pliant on top of him, his hair falling into Hankyung's eyes as he kisses him. Hankyung runs his hands down Heechul's sides and feels him shiver and make a funny, hitching sound in the back of his throat. Heechul pulls back slightly; all flushed cheeks and bright eyes, his mouth wet and open. Hankyung can't stop staring at him because he's beautiful, and he's going to tell Heechul this but he stops himself just in time. He doesn't want to sound like a girl. When Heechul finally falls asleep on his chest, Hankyung is wide awake for hours. He's not sure what this all means, if Heechul does this with everyone or if it's something different, something more.
--
Heechul being part of Super Junior Trot is both great and terrible, at least in Hankyung's eyes. Trot practices a lot these days and Hankyung doesn't know whether to be relieved or jealous when he wakes up and finds only a Heechul-shaped indent in his bed. Heechul gets home late, tired and snappy, and when Hankyung sees him he scribbles at a notepad and tries to look busy. He stares so hard at the page that the words swim in front of his eyes and he jumps when Heechul leans his chin on his shoulder.
"What are you writing?" Heechul asks, his lips dangerously close to Hankyung's ear.
Hankyung keeps staring down at the page and his brain freezes. It was easy enough to grab the notebook, but...
"LYRICS!" he shouts desperately and snaps the book shut.
"Lyrics," Heechul repeats. His voice is flat and dull and when he stands up and moves around to face Hankyung he looks annoyed. "You're writing lyrics."
Hankyung clutches at the notebook so tightly his knuckles turn white, and for a brief moment he wonders when he got so nervous around Heechul, because the two of them used to joke and fight all the time.
"No," he says, and now he wonders why he can't just keep his mouth shut.
"No?" Heechul looks even angrier than before. "Then what are you writing, Hankyung?" Hankyung remembers the last time Heechul was like this. He remembers it clearly, and he also recalls that it ended in Heechul throwing a dinner plate at Kangin's head.
"It's a cyworld post," Hankyung blurts out, "...for my cyworld."
Heechul has his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised and he looks so much like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum that Hankyung has a sudden urge to buy him an ice cream and pat him on the head. Except Heechul would probably be the kind of kid who would bite, so Hankyung quickly dismisses that idea.
"Huan ying, wo de ge mi," he improvises, words tumbling out under Heechul's icy stare. "For my Chinese fans."
Heechul makes a furious sound and storms off towards his bedroom. The next moment he slams the door so hard that Hankyung can imagine he sees the walls shake.
When Heechul gets into these moods Jay is usually the one to comfort him, to shake him out of it and call Heechul his girlfriend and make him smile, but Jay is around less and less these days. When Hankyung tentatively opens Heechul's door and raises that point -- offering his apologies of course, Heechul rolls over on his bed, screams, and hurls a pillow at Hankyung's face.
"You idiot!"
"I," Hankyung pauses, dodges another feathery missile. "Hyung, I know you miss him-" But Heechul is up off the bed and in front of him in the blink of an eye and he pushes hard at Hankyung's chest, his eyes narrowed and suspiciously shiny.
"This isn't about him," he spits, and he shoves Hankyung out into the hall.
Then he slams the door in Hankyung's face. Hankyung stares at it and his breath comes quickly. He knows he should be more worried about Heechul's mental state, but right now his brain is back at Heechul's hand on his chest, hot even though the thin shirt he is wearing. He feels hopeless and ashamed and as he stands there, Kibum passes by and pats him on the shoulder.
"'Rella doesn't crawl into everyone's bed in the middle of the night," he says dryly before walking away, and Hankyung's cheeks burn an embarrassing shade of crimson.
--
Hankyung knows he has been forgiven for - okay, he has no idea what he actually did apart from the whole Heechul-in-his-bed thing, and he thinks that was more Heechul's fault than his, because if you think about it, Hankyung didn't actually even get out of bed. It was Heechul who slid in next to him and Heechul who kissed him and Heechul who screamed at him in angry, angry Korean the next day. Hankyung is more than a little confused and he suspects it's not just a cultural misunderstanding. He'd like to get some advice on the matter, but every time he talks to Kibum and gets ready to bring up the subject he can feel the younger boy inwardly laughing at him.
So Hankyung knows that he has been forgiven when Heechul demands to be brought a glass of water. In exchange, he magnanimously offers, he will let Hankyung join his Lineage clan. When Hankyung points out that almost anyone can join his clan, Heechul upends the water over Hankyung's head then looks properly ashamed and lends Hankyung his shirt to dry himself with.
"It's not even an old one," Heechul says, eyeing Hankyung from his seat in front of the computer. "And it's my favourite." The shirt is fluoro pink and makes Hankyung's head ache. It has green feathers at the bottom. Heechul catches Hankyung looking at them and he beams.
"I sewed those on myself."
He sounds incredibly proud as the words leave his mouth and Hankyung stares at the lines of soft feathers, uneven stitches and sequins. He didn't even know that thread came in glittery pink. He finds himself wondering if it was a gift from Sungmin and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.
He's pulled over to the computer by one arm as Heechul pushes him into the seat. Leaning against Hankyung's side, hot and solid he snaps--
"Are you even paying attention? This is important, you know. You can't join my bloodpledge if you're a moron. It's-" He waves his hands around in horror suddenly, and points to the screen, jumping up and down on one leg. "THERE'S A CLAN MEETING SCHEDULED IN TWO MINUTES AND RELLAFLOWER ISN'T EVEN THERE."
He throws himself into Hankyung's lap, skinny limbs flailing, grabbing onto the desk for support and then typing with a startling speed on the keyboard.
Clack-clack-clack- "YES," Heechul cries, his eyes feverishly bright. "WAIT FOR ME, MY PRECIOUS PETALS."
Hankyung feels awkward and silent and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Heechul shifts around every couple of seconds like a child squirming in excitement and he's surprisingly heavy on Hankyung's lap. It's weird, because Heechul is such a girl sometimes, but like this, even waving his arms around in excitement, Hankyung knows he is anything but.
"I'm their leader," Heechul is saying, poking his finger enthusiastically at the monitor. "I just want to do right by them."
Hankyung makes a sound of agreement and stares at Heechul's avatar. It's wearing devil horns. Heechul catches him looking and he grins.
"That's RellaFlower," he says, and he shifts in position to smirk at Hankyung. "He's practically drowning in charisma points."
Heechul is like this so often on stage; this confident, glittering idol, smiling and winking and beckoning to the audience, that it's hard to tell where SM Entertainment's creation ends and Kim Heechul begins. His grin falters somewhat as he meets Hankyung's eyes, and for a brief moment Hankyung worries that Heechul can read his thoughts.
"What did you want to be when you were little?" Hankyung asks abruptly, and he can tell that Heechul is sifting through the pages of ready-made answers in his head. They're all taught early never to be caught out.
"Famous and popular," Heechul says promptly, and catching Hankyung's look he rolls his eyes. "What? Everyone wants that."
Hankyung smiles at him and feels bold as he slides his palm over Heechul's leg and rests it there. When he looks at Heechul the other boy's mouth is twisted into a funny sort of half-smile, and he elaborates with a wave of his hand.
"I didn't have to wish for beauty, I was born with these incredibly good looks."
"You are," Hankyung says without thinking, and he lifts one hand to run his fingers down Heechul's smooth cheek. It's been a long time coming. "You are beautiful, hyung."
All of a sudden Heechul slides off Hankyung's lap.
"You can't just say things like that," he says, and now his eyes are dark and angry as he scowls at Hankyung. "Not when you don't-" He breaks off and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks tiny and vulnerable as he stands there, and Hankyung isn't sure what to do. He's never seen Heechul quite like this.
"What?" Hankyung finally asks, still sitting dumbly in the computer chair, and Heechul looks angrier than ever.
"YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THOSE THINGS TO PEOPLE!" Heechul shrieks, on the verge of a tantrum.
"You kissed me!" Hankyung blurts out, and he jumps up from the chair to grab Heechul's wrist. It's thin and delicate and Hankyung worries for a moment that he'll break it if he squeezes too hard, but that's before Heechul wrenches his arm away from Hankyung and slaps him across the face.
"Don't touch me!"
"YOU KISSED ME!" Hankyung shouts again, his cheek burning, and he starts to wonder if he's going insane. They work long hours for crappy pay, fans are always after a piece of them; it makes a lot of sense that he's finally cracking up.
"Whatever!" Heechul screams back, "It couldn't have meant much to you, not if you just ignored the fact that it ever fucking happened!"
Heechul's face is pale and pinched, and Hankyung wants to grab him by the shoulders, run his hands over Heechul's features and across his forehead. He wants to smooth out the hurt expression and make everything okay, because Heechul being sad is unnatural and wrong and all things horrible.
"I didn't ignore you!" Hankyung says, his eyes on Heechul. "I didn't, you were just-"
Heechul makes a small sound of derision and Hankyung just gives up on words and pushes him against the wall instead, cups Heechul's cheek in one hand and presses his lips to the line of that stubborn jaw, to the corner of Heechul's mouth, because there's no way that he can misunderstand that. When he draws back, he notes that Heechul is quiet and a little flushed, but his eyes are shining and he hasn't slapped Hankyung yet, which is always a good sign. When he kisses him again, slow and sweet in the patch of sunlight by the window, Heechul just grins somewhat shyly and murmurs, "It took you long enough. You know I only agreed to the ballet thing because I thought you'd wear tights, right?" Hankyung is pretty sure that Heechul is completely insane, slapping him one minute and swooning in his arms the next, but he finds that he doesn't really care; because it's Heechul, and he's funny and stunning and so unashamedly himself that he always takes Hankyung by surprise.