Trading Places (WFLT DooSeob oneshot)
Title: Trading Places
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: DooSeob
Summary: On occasion only
A/N: TT.TT UGH. IT IS 3 AM, I HAVE TO DO MY ENTIRE COMP APPS PROJECT TOMORROW AND THIS IS LIKE THREE DAYS LATE, FOUR IF YOU COUNT THE TIME DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HERE AND KOREA. UGH. I AM DONE. I FEEL LIKE THIS IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE. HAVE AT IT. SONG IS BY USHER. GO LISTEN TO IT IF YOU DON'T KNOW IT BECAUSE USHER LIKE INVENTED SEX. AND YES, I JUST WROTE TOP!SEOB BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT'D BE HOT AND IT WOULD BE IF IT WASN'T WRITTEN BY ME BECAUSE I SUCK AT PORN.
July 3rd
7:04 PM
Yoseob returns from the closet with a belt in his hand-returns and presses himself back up against Doojoon’s body, pulling the leather carefully through the loops of the other boy’s jeans. He buckles it deftly over the metal buttons, over the zipper, of Doojoon’s pants, thumbs hooking casually against the waistband to give himself leverage-tiptoeing slightly and ghosting his lips across the captain’s mouth.
“You’d better wipe that grin off,” the goalie says, drawing back right away but taking Doojoon’s hand.
Doojoon shrugs as Yoseob pulls him out of the older boy’s bedroom and starts down the stairs. “Maybe if you tell me where we’re going?” Doojoon says playfully, and he squeezes the younger boy’s hand lightly.
Yoseob leads him deftly through the house, bowing to the housekeepers and Doori as they pass, and then out the front door. It’s not until they’re halfway down the yard that he glances back and smiles. “Aw-but that’d ruin the surprise, birthday boy.”
July 3rd
7:09 PM
Yoseob’s car, the one that’s assigned to him specifically by his parents-that’s given to him-Yoseob’s car is sitting in Doojoon’s driveway, right behind the line of Yoon cars, behind Doori’s car and Doojoon’s parents’ cars, currently unused because his parents are traveling with Yoseob’s parents on a joint business trip for the summer. The goalie leads Doojoon out to it, across the yard, pulling him with both of their hands entwined. He leads Doojoon out to it, brings him out to it, pulls him and once they reach it, Yoseob lets go and stands beside the car-
He stands beside it and opens the passenger door, sweeping his free arm out playfully. Doojoon raises his eyebrows, making to get in, but stopping with one foot in the car, barely sitting on the seat, and one foot still on the asphalt. “Where’s your driver?” he asks.
Yoseob leans down, one hand resting on the top of the open door. He leans down, leans forward, until their faces are barely apart, until he feels Doojoon’s hand grasp his shoulder lightly and slide slowly down his arm. “You don’t trust me?” he asks right back, grinning.
Doojoon tips his chin up, receiving the younger boy’s kiss-something small and warm and teasing, brief but heady. “I kind of want to be alive to turn seventeen,” Doojoon says with a laugh against Yoseob’s lips.
“Cool,” the goalie says, drawing back and getting ready to close the door on the older boy. He smiles. “I do, too.”
July 3rd
7:33 PM
Yoseob takes Doojoon to a park.
He drives him to a park barely half an hour away from both of their houses-a park that Junhyung says was where their nursemaids used to take Doojoon and Joon and Junhyung and Jonghyun when they were younger, where Doojoon used to love playing soccer when he was still learning to kick a ball around little red cones, where they were even sometimes taken out during elementary school because it was so close by.
“You’ve been here before?” Doojoon asks, clear surprise coating his voice as Yoseob parks the car and kills the engine.
“First time,” Yoseob says lightly, unbuckling himself and opening his door. Doojoon gets out as he does, and Yoseob almost laughs when he meets the other boy’s still confused, still surprised, expression. “What?”
“You moved here like a year and a half ago,” says the older boy. “Only people who’ve grown up around here know-”
The goalie is opening up the car’s trunk, pulling out a cooler, a picnic basket, a blanket, and two small, portable soccer goals. He shuts the trunk closed and looks up just in time to cut in with, “Yeah-Junhyung-hyung and Joonie-hyung grew up around here, remember?”
Doojoon blinks-first at Yoseob, and then at all of the materials gathered around the younger boy’s legs, sitting innocently on the asphalt.
“What’s-”
“C’mon, captain,” Yoseob says, smiling and motioning with one hand. “Help me get set up.”
July 3rd
8: 12 PM
“So,” Doojoon says with an air of playful pretention, “when did you get all romantic?” He glances up at Yoseob-the captain’s head is pillowed in the younger boy’s lap as they sit on the picnic blanket, basket open, cooler open, the empty plates and finished drinks scattered around them. Yoseob slaps both of his hands down on Doojoon’s cheeks, and the older boy winces.
Yoseob snorts, taking his hands away and leaning back on his palms. “Like you’re ever not?”
Doojoon brings one hand up to feel gingerly at his cheeks, but he keeps grinning up at the goalie. “Picnic in the park at night? I’m pretty sure I’ve never been that disgusting.” They exchange glances for a moment, just looking simply into each other’s eyes before Yoseob ends up breaking into a smile, turning his head away-he looks away and watches a mother and a father gather their kids off of the nearby playground to head back to the parking lot, most likely to head home.
“Then I guess you’ll have to amp up the disgusting when it’s my birthday,” Yoseob says after thinking for a moment. “I want rose petals in the bathtub and scented candles.”
Doojoon raises his eyes to meet Yoseob’s again. “And sex on a heart shaped bed with red velvet sheets?”
“You know me so well, hyung.”
July 3rd
8:57 PM
Neither of them care that they’re on full stomachs-as soon as it gets darker, as soon as the other people in the park start clearing out, Yoseob sets up the goals, Doojoon kicks the ball into the middle of the field, and they are off. They are off-dribbling the ball up and down, laughing as they purposefully lose the meaning of personal space, breaking rules that would normally get them red cards, sweating as competition eventually takes over in the summer heat, panting as they get farther into the night-farther into the game.
It’s a one-on-one game where the end can never be seen-at least not a definite end, because they’re both their own goalies and both their own strikers, with Doojoon having the upper hand in offending, but Yoseob of course having the upper hand in defending, so neither one scores. Neither of them score, and neither of them are really, honestly aiming to-it’s not a game to win-it’s just a game to play, and that’s what they’re doing.
That’s what they’re doing, with sneaky touches and sly fingers that slide along body parts flirtatiously as they pass, as they come into contact. That’s what Yoseob does when he steals the ball away right from Doojoon’s feet, the goalie’s hands slipping along the side of Doojoon’s thigh. That’s what Doojoon does when he stops Yoseob from making a goal, the captain’s fingers grazing along the younger boy’s stomach as Yoseob bumps into Doojoon from the force of the kick.
It’s what they keep doing-passive-aggressive flirting, looks that hold a little longer than opponents on a field are supposed to, bodies lingering in place just a few seconds late whenever they’re trying to wrest the ball from one another. It’s what they keep doing until Doojoon tries to score a goal again and Yoseob decides that it’s dark enough-it’s late enough, the park is empty enough, and the goalie kicks the ball out between Doojoon’s feet and simultaneously grabs the older boy’s shirt, fisting the material and slamming him into one of the trees they set the goals up against.
Yoseob pushes him into the tree, wedging one thigh between Doojoon’s legs as the goalie tilts his head in for a kiss-as he kisses Doojoon, as he slips his hands just beneath the edges of Doojoon’s shirt, digging his fingertips into smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. He hears-he feels-Doojoon sigh into his mouth, feels Doojoon’s hands hold him tighter, pressing his body up into Yoseob’s, kissing fiercer-kissing rougher and harder and needier and taking more and more, faster than what Yoseob can give out so tonight, just for tonight, the goalie lets him-
July 3rd
9:38 PM
Yoseob doesn’t know-doesn’t even really remember-how they made it back safely and coherently to the Yang house without crashing or having sex first in the park. He isn’t even sure if they packed everything back in without leaving something behind. He isn’t sure, doesn’t know, can’t remember and doesn’t really care-can’t really bring himself to care because they’re alone-
They’re alone-there’s no one else in the house because Yoseob’s parents are gone, and the maids and housekeepers and drivers have all gone home and it’s empty-it’s just them, and Yoseob is leading Doojoon up-is smiling and laughing softly, chuckling into mouths and hands sliding up and down stomachs and backs, holding waists, fingers intertwining and then loosening-all the way up the spiraling staircase, against the walls of the hallway, everything bathed in semi-darkness-
Clothes start coming off before they even reach Yoseob’s bedroom.
Doojoon’s clothes start coming off before they even reach Yoseob’s bedroom because Yoseob starts taking them off as soon as they finish moving up the stairs-he starts taking them off because normally it’s always Doojoon taking clothes off, both his own and Yoseob’s, usually Doojoon undresses them, manages to strip shirts and pants off in a way that makes the older boy grin and the goalie’s ears turn red.
Tonight, that’s what Yoseob does.
July 3rd
10:01 PM
Tonight, Yoseob does all the work-does what Doojoon normally would do.
Tonight, Yoseob is the one who makes Doojoon sigh, makes Doojoon moan and keen and grip the younger boy’s skin because it’s too good-because it’s too much all at once. Tonight, Yoseob kisses Doojoon-Yoseob kisses Doojoon-and tongues him, dragging his mouth down Doojoon’s neck, down Doojoon’s chest, over his shoulders and collarbone, lazily and teasingly until the captain’s fingertips are gripping the nape of Yoseob’s neck desperately.
Tonight is Doojoon’s night to be able to lie there-just lie there-and feel everything, feel Yoseob’s legs straddle his waist, feel Yoseob’s hips grind against his, feel Yoseob’s lips stretch around his cock, feel Yoseob’s tongue drawing patterns against the insides of his thighs, feel Yoseob’s hands hold him down when he tries to buck upward-buck into Yoseob’s mouth when it starts getting too hot, too wet, too tight, too-
Yoseob barely gives him time-he gives Doojoon all of a few seconds to recover, the few seconds it takes Yoseob to crawl back up from between Doojoon’s legs and turn the other boy, still boneless and breathless, on his side-just the few seconds it takes Yoseob to tear the plastic open with his teeth, the few seconds it takes for Yoseob to slip behind Doojoon, his nose drawing a line down between the captain’s shoulder blades.
It’s only been once before that Yoseob’s done this-once while sex was something new to both of them just a few months ago, once while they both wanted to try everything, to get all questions out of the way so they knew what everything-what all the possibilities-felt like-and-
Doojoon turns his head, turns back to meet Yoseob’s gaze at the crucial moment, at the moment where Yoseob is just positioning his hips, angling them the way he remembers from that one time-angling them in a way that’ll get Doojoon screaming and clawing at the sheets in seconds. Doojoon turns his head right at that moment and they look at each other.
They look at each other and then they move at the same time-Yoseob leaning in and Doojoon tilting up-they move at the same time, and their lips meet in the middle.
Their lips meet, they kiss, but then Yoseob holds Doojoon’s hip with one hand and steadies himself with his other, slipping in and burying his face in Doojoon’s neck because while Doojoon’s starting to lose himself with the sensation-the pleasure-of being filled, a novelty, a feeling that doesn’t come often-Yoseob’s starting to lose himself with the sensation-the pleasure-of being surrounded by wet heat, a novelty that’s rare to come by for him too.
July 4th
10:46 AM
Yoseob normally never wakes up first, but this morning, for some reason, he does. He doesn’t set his alarm or his phone or anything like that-he just wakes up before Doojoon, his eyes just flutter open first and he lies there on his side and stares at the captain’s face, thinking through what else Doojoon usually does for him. There’s not much to do in the mornings, though, considering all things. Unless it’s during the school year, on mornings when they can sleep in, Doojoon usually just lies there until Yoseob wakes up.
So that’s what Yoseob does.
He lies there and stares at the ceiling, arms behind his head and eyes glancing to Doojoon every once in a while. As the sunlight begins to filter in more strongly through the curtains, Yoseob wonders if Doojoon ever gets even a little bit tired-wonders if Doojoon ever gets tired or irritated or weary of doing all of what he always does for Yoseob. He knows that Doojoon isn’t a Dongsun-Yoseob knows that now, knows it by heart, knows it by mind, knows it, knows it, knows it.
He knows it, but he also knows that Doojoon’s still human.
July 4th
11:03 AM
When Doojoon opens his eyes, Yoseob is prepared.
The second-the split millisecond-that the captain’s eyelids part, Yoseob jumps on him-straddles his waist and ruffles his hair violently, pinching his cheeks and tugging at the skin, bouncing up and down like a deranged sort of kiddy ride on top of Doojoon’s stomach. “Yah, yah, yah,” Yoseob says loudly, leaning down so his voice echoes right into Doojoon’s ear. “You’re seventeen, Yoon Doojoon-seventeen.”
Doojoon mumbles something incoherent and flips onto his stomach-which means flipping Yoseob off onto the other side of the bed. The captain buries his face into the pillow. “Seventeen,” he mutters, voice muffled, “is an age you won’t get to reach if you don’t stop that and let me sleep.”
Yoseob laughs. “You were already awake,” he snorts. “Besides,” he wheedles playfully, “don’t you want to open your present?”
“There is no present greater than that of unconsciousness,” Doojoon mumbles contentedly into his pillow. “I’m pretty sure someone ancient and dead and respected said that a couple of years ago-maybe.”
The goalie rolls his eyes and climbs out of his own side of the bed, grabbing Doojoon’s t-shirt from last night and pulling it over his head, letting it swish around his naked body. He pads over to his desk and opens one of the bottom drawers, moving through notebooks and paper and pulls out a box that’s too big to hold with one hand, but small enough to be hidden underneath workbooks. He carries it over to the bed and puts it playfully on Doojoon’s blanketed ass.
Doojoon gives a muffled groan. “Yang Yoseob, just put it next to me. You already plowed into me last night-you don’t have to make things worse.”
Yoseob just hops back into the bed, leaving the wrapped box exactly where it is. “You were louder than I was,” Yoseob says. “Don’t pretend like you were in pain.”
“I was in pain,” Doojoon says, reaching back to take the present off of himself before he flips around onto his back and pulls himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. “That’s why I was loud.”
“Definitely,” the goalie says with a straight face. “Because if you’re in pain, you definitely ask for more of that pain and you also definitely ask for harder.”
Doojoon smacks Yoseob’s face with a pillow.
July 4th
11:40 AM
“You’re always complaining,” Yoseob says when Doojoon casts the wrapping paper to the side and opens the sleek, black box, “about how you’re headphones are broken after like a day because you always put them in with all of your soccer crap and they crushed by your cleats and stuff.”
Doojoon unravels the wires and cords that surround the brand new headphones in his hands, dark blue with stainless steel engraving on the sides. “So these are stronger?” he asks curiously, eyes completely focused and taken as he turns them around in his fingers. Yoseob nods, and nudges the sheet of instructions and descriptions that sticks to the side of the box.
“They’re waterproof too, I think,” Yoseob says as Doojoon finds the Korean on the sheet and starts scanning through it, “so you can wash them if they get dirt from the field on them when they’re mixing around in your bag.”
The captain’s head tips to one side then, and an odd look passes by his face as he glances up at Yoseob. The younger boy raises his eyebrows questioningly. Doojoon grins wordlessly, leaning over the box and the wrapping and the headphones to press his lips on Yoseob’s gently.
Yoseob blinks-just a little surprised because while he understands that kisses don’t have to have reasons, this one was just random-completely unexpected. “What?” he says before he can stop himself.
Doojoon shrugs, still grinning.
July 4th
1:41 PM
Yoseob drives them downtown.
They shop-they shop for clothes, looking through racks to fill for new fall clothes, new winter clothes (neither of which are too needed considering they wear a uniform for school), looking at new sports gear, new cleats that’ve come out, shoes for school, backpacks because both of theirs are starting to look like they’ve been chewed on by nonexistent dogs. They go through music stores, looking through new albums of idol groups, looking through DVD releases, through recently released mp3 players and cell phones. They go through bookstores, skimming reluctantly and miserably through the books they know they’ll have to read before summer is over.
They eat-they eat while they stop, coffees when they first arrive downtown after Yoseob parks the car, smoothies when the sun starts to beat down on them, small cakes and cookies when their stomachs start to demand more than just drinks. They stop by restaurants that they’ve heard of, that they’ve heard have just opened-stop by a few chains of restaurants under the Yang corporation, and then drop by cafes under the Yoon corporation, just to see how they’re doing, if the employees recognize them, saying hi, telling them to keep up the good work.
They flirt-they flirt as much as being in public will allow them, and a little that the public won’t, but they do it anyway because they don’t really care. They flirt in the streets while they decide which store to go into-hands holding, fingers threaded, hips bumping against each other, shoulders brushing, arms touching. They flirt in the shops while they’re browsing, Doojoon’s arms framing Yoseob’s body when the captain wants to show the goalie a CD or a new game. They flirt in the stores when they’re going through racks, Yoseob buttoning up Oxfords when Doojoon tries them on because the older boy thinks he might have gone up a size. They flirt when they eat, Yoseob stealing sips of Doojoon’s smoothie, Doojoon’s coffee-Doojoon snatching pieces of Yoseob’s chips, taking bites of the goalie’s cookies.
Some people stare, a lot of people don’t, and whether they do or they don’t doesn’t really bother Yoseob.
“You?” he asks, as he and Doojoon sit in an outdoor café-they’re holding hands underneath the table.
The captain gives a small half-shrug, and smiles back. “Not really.”
July 4th
9:29 PM
Doojoon just finishes showering, just comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping off his body in rivulets-Doojoon’s just come out of the bathroom when Yoseob-already showered and in his pajamas, sitting on the bed-when Yoseob decides to ask. “Hyung,” he says as Doojoon uses another towel to dry his hair.
The captain looks up through his wet bangs. “Yeah?” He walks over to the closet next to Yoseob’s-the closet that contains Doojoon’s clothes in Yoseob’s room.
“Does it-like-do you,” Yoseob pauses, thinking of the right words, the right phrasing, the right way to say it. “Don’t you ever get pissed off?”
Doojoon stops in the middle of pulling out a pair of boxers and turns his head toward Yoseob. “Wait-what-what? Pissed off at what?” He drops the boxers back into the drawer and crosses over the room, sitting down on the bed and squinting at Yoseob in confusion.
Yoseob shrugs, playing it off-putting it off nonchalantly. “I mean-you’re always the one doing everything. I just-I know that-you-I’m just wondering,” he says and hates how he’s suddenly looking down into his own lap because he can’t meet Doojoon’s eyes while he talks about this. It’s hard to look at Doojoon while Yoseob is just more or less acknowledging that in terms of being together, Doojoon does everything because Yoseob can’t do anything.
It’s like Yoseob is getting pushed back to square one-getting pushed back to realizing that Doojoon could really get whoever he wanted with all the effort he puts in, and Yoseob just struck lucky with the ridiculous fact that Doojoon seems to want him.
Even the Dongsuns didn’t want him after a while.
And while Yoseob knows that that’s not supposed to be true-that Doojoon’s made it clear time and time again that he’s not a Dongsun, that doesn’t change the fact that Yoseob is still Yoseob and doing all this for just one day is already hard enough, is already exhausting enough. He wonders how Doojoon can stand doing it every day for someone like Yoseob.
Yoseob feels fingers beneath his chin, tipping his face upward and making his eyes look into Doojoon’s. The captain looks thoughtful-thoughtful, and a little bit amused, like he knows some secret that Yoseob doesn’t. “Hey,” he says and his voice is soft-soft and low. “How come you did all you did yesterday and today?”
The goalie blinks. Thinks it’s obvious. Shrugs. “Because it’s your birthday.”
“Well-why did you do all of that for my birthday?” Doojoon raises his eyebrows playfully.
Yoseob blinks again. Frowns.
Doojoon laughs and brushes his knuckles lightly, just a short touch, over Yoseob’s cheek. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, smiling. “That’s also the answer to your question-or your wondering, or whatever the hell it was.”
The goalie frowns deeper, eyebrows creasing, as Doojoon gets back off the bed to resume his search for a pair of boxers. “Wait,” Yoseob says, “hyung, I don’t get it.”
“Good,” Doojoon says without turning around, and his tone sounds like he’ll start laughing and rolling around on the floor upon cue, “you don’t have to.”
Yoseob likes his place-he likes his place with Doojoon, likes how he fits with Doojoon, likes how they fit together, how they’re placed together when they’re with each other. He likes the way they orbit around each other, likes the path that that orbit travels in, likes the way they shift and move and surround each other in certain ways-his own particular ways and Doojoon’s own particular ways.
Switching all of that around-trading places-can be fun too. It’s fun because it’s different-fun like playing dress-up. Yoseob can put on glasses, can see and feel and hear the difference, but he thinks-he sort of thinks-that if he and Doojoon were anybody else in the world, were any other relationship and couple in the world, then maybe trading places would be more effective, there would be more of a difference.
As it is, when they’re in their original places, Yoseob doesn’t lead, but he doesn’t follow either-he isn’t led, Doojoon doesn’t lead him, never leads him, never tries to or suggests to. Yoseob doesn’t lead, but Doojoon never follows either-Doojoon doesn’t follow, but he doesn’t lead, and the more Yoseob thinks about it, the more it confuses him because it shouldn’t work-it shouldn’t make sense-except that it does.
Trading places is fun-it’s like playing dress-up.
But in the end, Yoseob likes his own clothes best.
Doojoon’s so much faster at that stripping thing anyway.
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: DooSeob
Summary: On occasion only
A/N: TT.TT UGH. IT IS 3 AM, I HAVE TO DO MY ENTIRE COMP APPS PROJECT TOMORROW AND THIS IS LIKE THREE DAYS LATE, FOUR IF YOU COUNT THE TIME DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HERE AND KOREA. UGH. I AM DONE. I FEEL LIKE THIS IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE. HAVE AT IT. SONG IS BY USHER. GO LISTEN TO IT IF YOU DON'T KNOW IT BECAUSE USHER LIKE INVENTED SEX. AND YES, I JUST WROTE TOP!SEOB BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT'D BE HOT AND IT WOULD BE IF IT WASN'T WRITTEN BY ME BECAUSE I SUCK AT PORN.
July 3rd
7:04 PM
Yoseob returns from the closet with a belt in his hand-returns and presses himself back up against Doojoon’s body, pulling the leather carefully through the loops of the other boy’s jeans. He buckles it deftly over the metal buttons, over the zipper, of Doojoon’s pants, thumbs hooking casually against the waistband to give himself leverage-tiptoeing slightly and ghosting his lips across the captain’s mouth.
“You’d better wipe that grin off,” the goalie says, drawing back right away but taking Doojoon’s hand.
Doojoon shrugs as Yoseob pulls him out of the older boy’s bedroom and starts down the stairs. “Maybe if you tell me where we’re going?” Doojoon says playfully, and he squeezes the younger boy’s hand lightly.
Yoseob leads him deftly through the house, bowing to the housekeepers and Doori as they pass, and then out the front door. It’s not until they’re halfway down the yard that he glances back and smiles. “Aw-but that’d ruin the surprise, birthday boy.”
July 3rd
7:09 PM
Yoseob’s car, the one that’s assigned to him specifically by his parents-that’s given to him-Yoseob’s car is sitting in Doojoon’s driveway, right behind the line of Yoon cars, behind Doori’s car and Doojoon’s parents’ cars, currently unused because his parents are traveling with Yoseob’s parents on a joint business trip for the summer. The goalie leads Doojoon out to it, across the yard, pulling him with both of their hands entwined. He leads Doojoon out to it, brings him out to it, pulls him and once they reach it, Yoseob lets go and stands beside the car-
He stands beside it and opens the passenger door, sweeping his free arm out playfully. Doojoon raises his eyebrows, making to get in, but stopping with one foot in the car, barely sitting on the seat, and one foot still on the asphalt. “Where’s your driver?” he asks.
Yoseob leans down, one hand resting on the top of the open door. He leans down, leans forward, until their faces are barely apart, until he feels Doojoon’s hand grasp his shoulder lightly and slide slowly down his arm. “You don’t trust me?” he asks right back, grinning.
Doojoon tips his chin up, receiving the younger boy’s kiss-something small and warm and teasing, brief but heady. “I kind of want to be alive to turn seventeen,” Doojoon says with a laugh against Yoseob’s lips.
“Cool,” the goalie says, drawing back and getting ready to close the door on the older boy. He smiles. “I do, too.”
July 3rd
7:33 PM
Yoseob takes Doojoon to a park.
He drives him to a park barely half an hour away from both of their houses-a park that Junhyung says was where their nursemaids used to take Doojoon and Joon and Junhyung and Jonghyun when they were younger, where Doojoon used to love playing soccer when he was still learning to kick a ball around little red cones, where they were even sometimes taken out during elementary school because it was so close by.
“You’ve been here before?” Doojoon asks, clear surprise coating his voice as Yoseob parks the car and kills the engine.
“First time,” Yoseob says lightly, unbuckling himself and opening his door. Doojoon gets out as he does, and Yoseob almost laughs when he meets the other boy’s still confused, still surprised, expression. “What?”
“You moved here like a year and a half ago,” says the older boy. “Only people who’ve grown up around here know-”
The goalie is opening up the car’s trunk, pulling out a cooler, a picnic basket, a blanket, and two small, portable soccer goals. He shuts the trunk closed and looks up just in time to cut in with, “Yeah-Junhyung-hyung and Joonie-hyung grew up around here, remember?”
Doojoon blinks-first at Yoseob, and then at all of the materials gathered around the younger boy’s legs, sitting innocently on the asphalt.
“What’s-”
“C’mon, captain,” Yoseob says, smiling and motioning with one hand. “Help me get set up.”
July 3rd
8: 12 PM
“So,” Doojoon says with an air of playful pretention, “when did you get all romantic?” He glances up at Yoseob-the captain’s head is pillowed in the younger boy’s lap as they sit on the picnic blanket, basket open, cooler open, the empty plates and finished drinks scattered around them. Yoseob slaps both of his hands down on Doojoon’s cheeks, and the older boy winces.
Yoseob snorts, taking his hands away and leaning back on his palms. “Like you’re ever not?”
Doojoon brings one hand up to feel gingerly at his cheeks, but he keeps grinning up at the goalie. “Picnic in the park at night? I’m pretty sure I’ve never been that disgusting.” They exchange glances for a moment, just looking simply into each other’s eyes before Yoseob ends up breaking into a smile, turning his head away-he looks away and watches a mother and a father gather their kids off of the nearby playground to head back to the parking lot, most likely to head home.
“Then I guess you’ll have to amp up the disgusting when it’s my birthday,” Yoseob says after thinking for a moment. “I want rose petals in the bathtub and scented candles.”
Doojoon raises his eyes to meet Yoseob’s again. “And sex on a heart shaped bed with red velvet sheets?”
“You know me so well, hyung.”
July 3rd
8:57 PM
Neither of them care that they’re on full stomachs-as soon as it gets darker, as soon as the other people in the park start clearing out, Yoseob sets up the goals, Doojoon kicks the ball into the middle of the field, and they are off. They are off-dribbling the ball up and down, laughing as they purposefully lose the meaning of personal space, breaking rules that would normally get them red cards, sweating as competition eventually takes over in the summer heat, panting as they get farther into the night-farther into the game.
It’s a one-on-one game where the end can never be seen-at least not a definite end, because they’re both their own goalies and both their own strikers, with Doojoon having the upper hand in offending, but Yoseob of course having the upper hand in defending, so neither one scores. Neither of them score, and neither of them are really, honestly aiming to-it’s not a game to win-it’s just a game to play, and that’s what they’re doing.
That’s what they’re doing, with sneaky touches and sly fingers that slide along body parts flirtatiously as they pass, as they come into contact. That’s what Yoseob does when he steals the ball away right from Doojoon’s feet, the goalie’s hands slipping along the side of Doojoon’s thigh. That’s what Doojoon does when he stops Yoseob from making a goal, the captain’s fingers grazing along the younger boy’s stomach as Yoseob bumps into Doojoon from the force of the kick.
It’s what they keep doing-passive-aggressive flirting, looks that hold a little longer than opponents on a field are supposed to, bodies lingering in place just a few seconds late whenever they’re trying to wrest the ball from one another. It’s what they keep doing until Doojoon tries to score a goal again and Yoseob decides that it’s dark enough-it’s late enough, the park is empty enough, and the goalie kicks the ball out between Doojoon’s feet and simultaneously grabs the older boy’s shirt, fisting the material and slamming him into one of the trees they set the goals up against.
Yoseob pushes him into the tree, wedging one thigh between Doojoon’s legs as the goalie tilts his head in for a kiss-as he kisses Doojoon, as he slips his hands just beneath the edges of Doojoon’s shirt, digging his fingertips into smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. He hears-he feels-Doojoon sigh into his mouth, feels Doojoon’s hands hold him tighter, pressing his body up into Yoseob’s, kissing fiercer-kissing rougher and harder and needier and taking more and more, faster than what Yoseob can give out so tonight, just for tonight, the goalie lets him-
July 3rd
9:38 PM
Yoseob doesn’t know-doesn’t even really remember-how they made it back safely and coherently to the Yang house without crashing or having sex first in the park. He isn’t even sure if they packed everything back in without leaving something behind. He isn’t sure, doesn’t know, can’t remember and doesn’t really care-can’t really bring himself to care because they’re alone-
They’re alone-there’s no one else in the house because Yoseob’s parents are gone, and the maids and housekeepers and drivers have all gone home and it’s empty-it’s just them, and Yoseob is leading Doojoon up-is smiling and laughing softly, chuckling into mouths and hands sliding up and down stomachs and backs, holding waists, fingers intertwining and then loosening-all the way up the spiraling staircase, against the walls of the hallway, everything bathed in semi-darkness-
Clothes start coming off before they even reach Yoseob’s bedroom.
Doojoon’s clothes start coming off before they even reach Yoseob’s bedroom because Yoseob starts taking them off as soon as they finish moving up the stairs-he starts taking them off because normally it’s always Doojoon taking clothes off, both his own and Yoseob’s, usually Doojoon undresses them, manages to strip shirts and pants off in a way that makes the older boy grin and the goalie’s ears turn red.
Tonight, that’s what Yoseob does.
July 3rd
10:01 PM
Tonight, Yoseob does all the work-does what Doojoon normally would do.
Tonight, Yoseob is the one who makes Doojoon sigh, makes Doojoon moan and keen and grip the younger boy’s skin because it’s too good-because it’s too much all at once. Tonight, Yoseob kisses Doojoon-Yoseob kisses Doojoon-and tongues him, dragging his mouth down Doojoon’s neck, down Doojoon’s chest, over his shoulders and collarbone, lazily and teasingly until the captain’s fingertips are gripping the nape of Yoseob’s neck desperately.
Tonight is Doojoon’s night to be able to lie there-just lie there-and feel everything, feel Yoseob’s legs straddle his waist, feel Yoseob’s hips grind against his, feel Yoseob’s lips stretch around his cock, feel Yoseob’s tongue drawing patterns against the insides of his thighs, feel Yoseob’s hands hold him down when he tries to buck upward-buck into Yoseob’s mouth when it starts getting too hot, too wet, too tight, too-
Yoseob barely gives him time-he gives Doojoon all of a few seconds to recover, the few seconds it takes Yoseob to crawl back up from between Doojoon’s legs and turn the other boy, still boneless and breathless, on his side-just the few seconds it takes Yoseob to tear the plastic open with his teeth, the few seconds it takes for Yoseob to slip behind Doojoon, his nose drawing a line down between the captain’s shoulder blades.
It’s only been once before that Yoseob’s done this-once while sex was something new to both of them just a few months ago, once while they both wanted to try everything, to get all questions out of the way so they knew what everything-what all the possibilities-felt like-and-
Doojoon turns his head, turns back to meet Yoseob’s gaze at the crucial moment, at the moment where Yoseob is just positioning his hips, angling them the way he remembers from that one time-angling them in a way that’ll get Doojoon screaming and clawing at the sheets in seconds. Doojoon turns his head right at that moment and they look at each other.
They look at each other and then they move at the same time-Yoseob leaning in and Doojoon tilting up-they move at the same time, and their lips meet in the middle.
Their lips meet, they kiss, but then Yoseob holds Doojoon’s hip with one hand and steadies himself with his other, slipping in and burying his face in Doojoon’s neck because while Doojoon’s starting to lose himself with the sensation-the pleasure-of being filled, a novelty, a feeling that doesn’t come often-Yoseob’s starting to lose himself with the sensation-the pleasure-of being surrounded by wet heat, a novelty that’s rare to come by for him too.
July 4th
10:46 AM
Yoseob normally never wakes up first, but this morning, for some reason, he does. He doesn’t set his alarm or his phone or anything like that-he just wakes up before Doojoon, his eyes just flutter open first and he lies there on his side and stares at the captain’s face, thinking through what else Doojoon usually does for him. There’s not much to do in the mornings, though, considering all things. Unless it’s during the school year, on mornings when they can sleep in, Doojoon usually just lies there until Yoseob wakes up.
So that’s what Yoseob does.
He lies there and stares at the ceiling, arms behind his head and eyes glancing to Doojoon every once in a while. As the sunlight begins to filter in more strongly through the curtains, Yoseob wonders if Doojoon ever gets even a little bit tired-wonders if Doojoon ever gets tired or irritated or weary of doing all of what he always does for Yoseob. He knows that Doojoon isn’t a Dongsun-Yoseob knows that now, knows it by heart, knows it by mind, knows it, knows it, knows it.
He knows it, but he also knows that Doojoon’s still human.
July 4th
11:03 AM
When Doojoon opens his eyes, Yoseob is prepared.
The second-the split millisecond-that the captain’s eyelids part, Yoseob jumps on him-straddles his waist and ruffles his hair violently, pinching his cheeks and tugging at the skin, bouncing up and down like a deranged sort of kiddy ride on top of Doojoon’s stomach. “Yah, yah, yah,” Yoseob says loudly, leaning down so his voice echoes right into Doojoon’s ear. “You’re seventeen, Yoon Doojoon-seventeen.”
Doojoon mumbles something incoherent and flips onto his stomach-which means flipping Yoseob off onto the other side of the bed. The captain buries his face into the pillow. “Seventeen,” he mutters, voice muffled, “is an age you won’t get to reach if you don’t stop that and let me sleep.”
Yoseob laughs. “You were already awake,” he snorts. “Besides,” he wheedles playfully, “don’t you want to open your present?”
“There is no present greater than that of unconsciousness,” Doojoon mumbles contentedly into his pillow. “I’m pretty sure someone ancient and dead and respected said that a couple of years ago-maybe.”
The goalie rolls his eyes and climbs out of his own side of the bed, grabbing Doojoon’s t-shirt from last night and pulling it over his head, letting it swish around his naked body. He pads over to his desk and opens one of the bottom drawers, moving through notebooks and paper and pulls out a box that’s too big to hold with one hand, but small enough to be hidden underneath workbooks. He carries it over to the bed and puts it playfully on Doojoon’s blanketed ass.
Doojoon gives a muffled groan. “Yang Yoseob, just put it next to me. You already plowed into me last night-you don’t have to make things worse.”
Yoseob just hops back into the bed, leaving the wrapped box exactly where it is. “You were louder than I was,” Yoseob says. “Don’t pretend like you were in pain.”
“I was in pain,” Doojoon says, reaching back to take the present off of himself before he flips around onto his back and pulls himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. “That’s why I was loud.”
“Definitely,” the goalie says with a straight face. “Because if you’re in pain, you definitely ask for more of that pain and you also definitely ask for harder.”
Doojoon smacks Yoseob’s face with a pillow.
July 4th
11:40 AM
“You’re always complaining,” Yoseob says when Doojoon casts the wrapping paper to the side and opens the sleek, black box, “about how you’re headphones are broken after like a day because you always put them in with all of your soccer crap and they crushed by your cleats and stuff.”
Doojoon unravels the wires and cords that surround the brand new headphones in his hands, dark blue with stainless steel engraving on the sides. “So these are stronger?” he asks curiously, eyes completely focused and taken as he turns them around in his fingers. Yoseob nods, and nudges the sheet of instructions and descriptions that sticks to the side of the box.
“They’re waterproof too, I think,” Yoseob says as Doojoon finds the Korean on the sheet and starts scanning through it, “so you can wash them if they get dirt from the field on them when they’re mixing around in your bag.”
The captain’s head tips to one side then, and an odd look passes by his face as he glances up at Yoseob. The younger boy raises his eyebrows questioningly. Doojoon grins wordlessly, leaning over the box and the wrapping and the headphones to press his lips on Yoseob’s gently.
Yoseob blinks-just a little surprised because while he understands that kisses don’t have to have reasons, this one was just random-completely unexpected. “What?” he says before he can stop himself.
Doojoon shrugs, still grinning.
July 4th
1:41 PM
Yoseob drives them downtown.
They shop-they shop for clothes, looking through racks to fill for new fall clothes, new winter clothes (neither of which are too needed considering they wear a uniform for school), looking at new sports gear, new cleats that’ve come out, shoes for school, backpacks because both of theirs are starting to look like they’ve been chewed on by nonexistent dogs. They go through music stores, looking through new albums of idol groups, looking through DVD releases, through recently released mp3 players and cell phones. They go through bookstores, skimming reluctantly and miserably through the books they know they’ll have to read before summer is over.
They eat-they eat while they stop, coffees when they first arrive downtown after Yoseob parks the car, smoothies when the sun starts to beat down on them, small cakes and cookies when their stomachs start to demand more than just drinks. They stop by restaurants that they’ve heard of, that they’ve heard have just opened-stop by a few chains of restaurants under the Yang corporation, and then drop by cafes under the Yoon corporation, just to see how they’re doing, if the employees recognize them, saying hi, telling them to keep up the good work.
They flirt-they flirt as much as being in public will allow them, and a little that the public won’t, but they do it anyway because they don’t really care. They flirt in the streets while they decide which store to go into-hands holding, fingers threaded, hips bumping against each other, shoulders brushing, arms touching. They flirt in the shops while they’re browsing, Doojoon’s arms framing Yoseob’s body when the captain wants to show the goalie a CD or a new game. They flirt in the stores when they’re going through racks, Yoseob buttoning up Oxfords when Doojoon tries them on because the older boy thinks he might have gone up a size. They flirt when they eat, Yoseob stealing sips of Doojoon’s smoothie, Doojoon’s coffee-Doojoon snatching pieces of Yoseob’s chips, taking bites of the goalie’s cookies.
Some people stare, a lot of people don’t, and whether they do or they don’t doesn’t really bother Yoseob.
“You?” he asks, as he and Doojoon sit in an outdoor café-they’re holding hands underneath the table.
The captain gives a small half-shrug, and smiles back. “Not really.”
July 4th
9:29 PM
Doojoon just finishes showering, just comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping off his body in rivulets-Doojoon’s just come out of the bathroom when Yoseob-already showered and in his pajamas, sitting on the bed-when Yoseob decides to ask. “Hyung,” he says as Doojoon uses another towel to dry his hair.
The captain looks up through his wet bangs. “Yeah?” He walks over to the closet next to Yoseob’s-the closet that contains Doojoon’s clothes in Yoseob’s room.
“Does it-like-do you,” Yoseob pauses, thinking of the right words, the right phrasing, the right way to say it. “Don’t you ever get pissed off?”
Doojoon stops in the middle of pulling out a pair of boxers and turns his head toward Yoseob. “Wait-what-what? Pissed off at what?” He drops the boxers back into the drawer and crosses over the room, sitting down on the bed and squinting at Yoseob in confusion.
Yoseob shrugs, playing it off-putting it off nonchalantly. “I mean-you’re always the one doing everything. I just-I know that-you-I’m just wondering,” he says and hates how he’s suddenly looking down into his own lap because he can’t meet Doojoon’s eyes while he talks about this. It’s hard to look at Doojoon while Yoseob is just more or less acknowledging that in terms of being together, Doojoon does everything because Yoseob can’t do anything.
It’s like Yoseob is getting pushed back to square one-getting pushed back to realizing that Doojoon could really get whoever he wanted with all the effort he puts in, and Yoseob just struck lucky with the ridiculous fact that Doojoon seems to want him.
Even the Dongsuns didn’t want him after a while.
And while Yoseob knows that that’s not supposed to be true-that Doojoon’s made it clear time and time again that he’s not a Dongsun, that doesn’t change the fact that Yoseob is still Yoseob and doing all this for just one day is already hard enough, is already exhausting enough. He wonders how Doojoon can stand doing it every day for someone like Yoseob.
Yoseob feels fingers beneath his chin, tipping his face upward and making his eyes look into Doojoon’s. The captain looks thoughtful-thoughtful, and a little bit amused, like he knows some secret that Yoseob doesn’t. “Hey,” he says and his voice is soft-soft and low. “How come you did all you did yesterday and today?”
The goalie blinks. Thinks it’s obvious. Shrugs. “Because it’s your birthday.”
“Well-why did you do all of that for my birthday?” Doojoon raises his eyebrows playfully.
Yoseob blinks again. Frowns.
Doojoon laughs and brushes his knuckles lightly, just a short touch, over Yoseob’s cheek. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, smiling. “That’s also the answer to your question-or your wondering, or whatever the hell it was.”
The goalie frowns deeper, eyebrows creasing, as Doojoon gets back off the bed to resume his search for a pair of boxers. “Wait,” Yoseob says, “hyung, I don’t get it.”
“Good,” Doojoon says without turning around, and his tone sounds like he’ll start laughing and rolling around on the floor upon cue, “you don’t have to.”
Yoseob likes his place-he likes his place with Doojoon, likes how he fits with Doojoon, likes how they fit together, how they’re placed together when they’re with each other. He likes the way they orbit around each other, likes the path that that orbit travels in, likes the way they shift and move and surround each other in certain ways-his own particular ways and Doojoon’s own particular ways.
Switching all of that around-trading places-can be fun too. It’s fun because it’s different-fun like playing dress-up. Yoseob can put on glasses, can see and feel and hear the difference, but he thinks-he sort of thinks-that if he and Doojoon were anybody else in the world, were any other relationship and couple in the world, then maybe trading places would be more effective, there would be more of a difference.
As it is, when they’re in their original places, Yoseob doesn’t lead, but he doesn’t follow either-he isn’t led, Doojoon doesn’t lead him, never leads him, never tries to or suggests to. Yoseob doesn’t lead, but Doojoon never follows either-Doojoon doesn’t follow, but he doesn’t lead, and the more Yoseob thinks about it, the more it confuses him because it shouldn’t work-it shouldn’t make sense-except that it does.
Trading places is fun-it’s like playing dress-up.
But in the end, Yoseob likes his own clothes best.
Doojoon’s so much faster at that stripping thing anyway.