Chapter Text
The door squeaks against its hinges when Junho pushes it open, quietly peering into the room. It's hard to make out anything in the darkness, hard to listen to anything else but the sound of his own tight, quiet breathing, but he's already so familiar with who he's come to see that it's easy to make out a curved silhouette lying in the bed a few metres away that's been pressed against the wall. And he stands there for a moment, simply contemplating whether or not to go in, whether or not to disturb Yunseong from his slumber for something so trivial, but Minseo and Changuk are out with old friends, Alex is out to see his family until tomorrow morning, and the rest of the members are asleep, so Junho doesn't think he'll ever get this chance again soon. In the end, though, the choice is made for him.
There's rustling, the sound of sheets being moved, and then a voice.
"Junho?"
It's Yunseong. It has to be, of course, with his careful whispers and the sound of his throaty voice that always deepens a little whenever he wakes up from slumber — or half slumber, maybe, because he's sitting up now and gazing at the door with groggy eyes and bed-rumpled hair.
"Junho, is that you?"
This time, Yunseong's voice snaps him out of his stillness, and Junho pushes the door open wider, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "Yeah, hyung, it's me."
He whispers because Yunseong whispered, and now their whispers feel lost between them, almost as if they'd never spoken at all — almost as if Yunseong is deciding if he's real and Junho is waiting to be told to go back to his room. It doesn't happen, though. It never does. It goes the opposite way Junho imagines every time he musters up the courage to come here at night. His stomach twists and turns and churns, sickly, before Yunseong does that thing where he gives him that soft, tired smile and pats his bed to draw Junho forward. Junho lets go of the hangnail he'd been picking at the side of his left thumb and shuffles into the room, closing the door, but not fully. The sliver of light that peeks through helps him see Yunseong better as he motors forward.
Yunseong's in his favourite pyjamas, the blue ones with the bears on them, the ones that Junho got in pink so that they'd match, and he's blinking a little slower than usual as he takes Junho in. He looks soft, Junho thinks. He likes when Yunseong looks soft. Somehow, Yunseong always looks soft.
"Junho," Yunseong breathes when Junho finally makes it to the edge of the bed and slips in with him.
The sound of his name on Yunseong's tongue sends the coldest sort of chills up his spine — colder than usual; glacial. And he likes the way it spreads goosebumps over his skin, prickles his hairs, and makes his heart stutter.
Junho shuffles in when Yunseong wraps his arms around him, always taking the lead when it's them alone, always taking the lead when there're no cameras, when Junho's not as confident to touch him without them for some reason, as if that makes sense, as if that has rhyme or reason. Even outside of the group setting, Yunseong likes to take the lead when it comes to the little things. He slides his hands around Junho's thin waist and pulls him into the already too-tight space, and he presses his body in closer and tilts his head forward so that they're face to face. Junho's bones rattle under his skin, shaken by the stare Yunseong gives him. It isn't intense. It never is. But it's so bleary and open and tired and vulnerable that Junho, too, feels raw, and frayed, and exposed by just being here with him. But he likes it. He likes being open like this with Yunseong.
"I was wondering if you wanted to come in tonight," Yunseong murmurs, his breath tickling Junho's fragile skin, as he brushes his fingers over Junho's knobbly knuckles.
"I always want to," Junho answers as if on command because it's true. He always wants to. Always wants to be here alone, when it's just him and Junho and Junho and him and their members are away for a few hours, busy or vanished or gone.
"I always want to be here with you, hyung."
Yunseong doesn't answer to that, but his tired eyes seem to shine a little brighter and his soft smile seems to stretch even wider, yet Junho can't be too sure of his delusions when Yunseong's languidly pressing his head into his chest and hiding there. Junho's heart beats like a drum. Yunseong's snuggling into him like he always does, even though he's the taller one — by inches, centimetres even — and even though he's the one that usually likes to take the lead. He says something, muffled, into Junho's shirt that he misses, but he knows it happens, he knows he said something because he feels the movement of Yunseong's plump lips against his sternum. He's suffocating himself there, he has to be, but so is Junho. He's breathless every time Yunseong's in his arms like this. His chest tightens and his heart squeezes, but it's a reminder that this is real — whatever this is. Whatever they've been doing for days, weeks, months, on end.
Junho coils his hands around Yunseong's waist like he should've done in the first place, and his fingers skim the exposed skin under his ridden-up shirt. His thumb strokes vertically, horizontally, strokes small circles and little patterns like constellations into Yunseong's side, and slowly but surely Yunseong's breathing evens out. He's always been the quicker one to fall asleep. Junho pulls away to see for himself, but when he looks down and sweeps away some of the long hair hiding Yunseong's features, he finds that Yunseong isn't asleep at all. Junho blinks down at him as Yunseong creeps back up from his chest, eyes wide open, and comes face to face with him again. This time, he doesn't speak. This time, Yunseong doesn't say a word. Instead, he leans in, and there they meet.
It's as natural as it was in the beginning; that mutual tilt in, the gravity-like pull between them, the seeking out of each other's lips even in the dark. Junho closes his eyes when Yunseong's mouth brushes his, soft and warm and cold and chapped all at once, and his stomach sinks with a solid sort of weight that he thinks must mirror relief. They take their time as they kiss, languid and slow, because it's just them in the dark with no members and no cameras and no having to hide giddily in supply closets and changing rooms and bathroom stalls, so it means they can take their time. Junho, especially, likes to savour it. Likes to draw out all those little noises from the back of Yunseong's throat, even when he's high-strung and tired. Likes to feel the burn of Yunseong's heated skin against his cold hands when he slides his hands up. And likes to lodge away every gasp Yunseong takes when Junho deepens the kiss as if he hadn't seen it coming, as if Junho doesn't kiss him like this every time.
This is Junho's territory. This, he's good at. This, he knows he can lead with. And this, he knows, is one of Yunseong's favourite past times. And when Yunseong pulls away because he can't breathe and Junho forgets what air is with the taste of Yunseong's minty toothpaste and coil of Yunseong's tongue against his, he wants to lead him right back in again. But he doesn't. And Yunseong doesn't either.
They go still and they watch and they wait for nothing as they stare at each other, and then Yunseong's fist in his shirt becomes looser and looser as his eyes start to close again. Junho wants to wake him up. He wants to kiss him a second time because he didn't get enough — but he never gets enough. If Yunseong kissed him come sunrise, it still wouldn't be enough. And he can't be selfish. He can't be. Not when he knows Yunseong has to be up early in the morning, earlier than the rest of them, and Junho, too, needs to make his way back into his own room before Minseo and Changuk return or Dongyun stirs and wakes like he always does in the middle of the night. And so, he doesn't wake Yunseong up. He watches as his eyes shutter to a final close and his breath evens out and there's nothing more between them but the sound of their own quiet breathing and Junho's pounding heart.
Even then, Junho doesn't let go. For a while, that's all he does — stare at Yunseong's sleeping figure in his arms. He lies, and he stares, and then he curls his arms around Yunseong's torso tighter one last time before letting go when he hears the familiar sound of keys rattling in their front door. It's easy to slip out of the room whenever Yunseong's in deep slumber, so with even quieter steps than he'd taken to enter the room, Junho leaves it, almost as if he was never there, almost as if he'd never come in at all, traceless. But he knows he did. Yunseong will know he did. And Junho climbs in bed and shuts his eyes while holding onto their smaller moments because the fact that they both know is all he needs.
In the morning, Yunseong will sit beside him for breakfast and list all that manager-nim instructed that they do for the day in advance like a good and proper leader, but he'll slide his small hand into his, and they'll link their pinkies together under the table like they always do, and Junho will think the same thing;
It's all he really needs.