Chapter Text
It gets to a point.
Once? Donghyun can suck it up and try his best to brush it off. Twice? Donghyun thinks he’s ever so slightly closer to killing himself.
Look, Donghyun's not an idiot. No matter how he can be a little slow sometimes, or how many times his friends say he is (“Yah, Kim Donghyun, how many times do we have to explain the rules, the game’s not that hard—”), he's not completely stupid.
At the very least, he knows it must have been a conscious decision. There’s no universe in which Han Dongmin chooses to kiss Kim Donghyun on the lips as a form of, what, punishment for being late? And yet this is the universe Donghyun swore didn’t exist. He’s beyond lost.
Still, Donghyun's brain is providing him countless explanations to Dongmin's inexplicable actions. Maybe he was just...trying to make a joke out of it, and all his Dongmin-isms. Or he got carried away by their movie discussion, got his wires crossed, did a heat-of-the-moment thing and just got too humiliated to clean it up.
It’s embarrassing to admit. Honestly, the biggest reason why Donghyun’s so terrified about the idea of Dongmin suddenly acting up and crossing lines is just that he doesn't think he could handle the repercussions of it if they go wrong somewhere along the way. A life with Donghyun quietly pining after Dongmin is better than a life without Dongmin at all — Donghyun can’t risk losing him, all for the sake of some stupid feelings, feelings that Dongmin will probably never even understand.
(Funny enough to think about, because since the day they’d met Donghyun had always, always, counted on Dongmin to understand. In spite of anything, and everything. He used to think no matter what it was that he did, or felt, or thought, there would be one person waiting for him at home that would always get it, get him, even when he didn't get himself.
Now he’s not so sure anymore, but it’s still a similar feeling, just a little older, a little more worn at the edges. Donghyun thinks that’s just growing up. He thinks he just needs his best friend, even if that means he won’t ever have a lover.)
It had gotten better over the years. Donghyun no longer felt like he was being electrocuted every time he so much as glances at Dongmin’s shadow cast over the muhly grasses up the hill in town anymore, and slowly, but somehow, he supposes, it’s just dulled to a faint ache in his chest, heavy and still wanting, a low, ever-present buzz beneath his skin. He likes to think he’s gotten used to it, the wondrous enigma that is the effect of Han Dongmin on his heart.
But Dongmin isn’t even the slightest bit embarrassed or awkward. There was no excuse of a hangover the second time he kis— that happened, yet he stayed natural. If Donghyun didn’t know better, he’d say Dongmin was just pretending to be normal; he’s kind of good at that, sometimes, keeping a straight enough face to convince Donghyun. But no, that couldn’t be it. Or could it? Well—
Donghyun doesn’t know. It’s driving him mad.
He can’t exactly confront Dongmin, though, can he? Because, well, Donghyun’s not an idiot. It's Dongmin he's talking about, witty and smart and catches on things way too quickly. Asking would basically blow everything Donghyun's been trying to hide these past ten years: that he’s irrevocably in love with him. And Donghyun would rather turn early into his grave than let that happen.
“Hello? Earth to Donghyun-ie,” a voice calls. Donghyun furrows his brows at the interruption.
Jaehyun scoffs when he sees Donghyun’s expression. “Why are you staring into space?” The older man says. “I’ve been calling you for a while.”
“I’m just thinking,” Donghyun grits out.
Jaehyun snorts. “That’s new,” he shoots back, and guffaws loudly when Donghyun elbows him for it.
They’re packing up their bags. Donghyun hasn’t been paying attention since twenty minutes after the lecture started, to be honest; computing isn’t exactly his favourite thing in the world. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s taking it.
And, well, he’s got more important stuff on his mind. Stuff like, should he jump off the college rooftop so he never faces Dongmin ever again? There are probably better ways to go.
Jaehyun’s looking at him with a mildly concerned expression now. “No, seriously, Donghyun-ah, you good? I’ve been talking for the past minute and you haven’t been paying attention at all.”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about it. What—” he holds the door as they’re leaving the lecture theatre, “what were you saying?”
Jaehyun clears his throat, still disgruntled but not pushing. “I was saying — oh, thanks — let’s go to a party.”
Donghyun frowns. “So suddenly?”
“Do we ever plan for these things?” Jaehyun looks off wistfully into the distance, which is just the end of the hallway, really, but the faraway look on his face gives the very false impression that he’s contemplating a grand philosophy. “Stacey Yoon, the cousin of the lab partner of my groupmate in Psychology, she’s hosting it at her place this Friday. I want you guys to come.”
“The what of what of what now?” Donghyun repeats wearily, one eyebrow raised. He doesn’t know who the hell Jaehyun’s talking about, but with the size of his honestly impressive social circle, Donghyun doesn’t question it. Jaehyun’s probably one of those people who’s one connection away from, like, Harry Styles because he has so many friends, anyway.
Donghyun frowns slightly. “I don't know, hyung. I'm behind on a dissertation on fisheries ecology. And I'm not really in the mood.”
“Oh, come on, Donghyun-ah.” Jaehyun pleads. He's grasping Donghyun’s hand, eyes scrunched up pitifully. It doesn't really have its intended effect. “You like parties. It’ll be fun. Forget your…uh,” he waves his hands around vaguely, “fish…stuff, for a moment. It’ll make your mood ten times better, I promise. Please, please come,” he adds with those pathetic dog eyes of his that he employs whenever he’s trying to win a favour and needs to act cute but it kind of comes out more like he’s constipated instead.
It's ironic for Jaehyun, possibly the most overachieving academic atomic bomb in the school, to be telling Donghyun to forget about his studies. Donghyun sighs. It’s working, anywho. There has to be a reason Jaehyun’s being so adamant about the event; maybe he's got a girl to impress. He feels bad.
“Fine,” he gives in. “But only if the others agree.”
“Deal!” Jaehyun laughs triumphantly, and skips away in celebration. He throws a distant see you at lunch behind him. Donghyun can only look at the jolly outline of his senior’s frame skittering down the hallway, too much energy for 11 AM on a Wednesday morning, and wonder dimly if he made the wrong decision after all.
***
The answer to that question is yes, Donghyun finds.
He's in hell. Or, like, the college knock-off version of it, at least. University and eternal suffering can’t be too far apart. It’s Jaehyun’s fault, really, the same way most things are Jaehyun’s fault. But it’s probably Donghyun’s own fault too.
Jaehyun brought up the idea again at lunch later that afternoon. It took a lot of wheedling and whining and honest-to-god humiliation for him to convince everyone (“Come on, guys, how long has it been since we've gone out together? It's just a small gathering, we can just have a few drinks and leave, Sanghyuk-ah, don’t look at me like that, it’ll be fun, I promise—”) but eventually it was settled. Donghyun had even backed him up.
(He tried to miss the way Dongmin agreed immediately once he said he was going, too. They had always been that way, only going to parties with each other, a habit borne out of necessity at the beginning of the year when they didn't know anyone yet. Eventually when they got their own friends maybe they could've started being on their own a bit more, but it remained a habit they just never bothered to change. Donghyun’s not sure why it felt different this time, the way Dongmin sat up instantly when Donghyun started talking. But he's probably overthinking it, the way he does everything these days.)
So here they are. In hell.
Sure, Donghyun likes parties. He thinks the alcohol does half the job, but the music is loud and he doesn’t have to think too much, just smile at people he doesn’t know and stick with his friends if he doesn’t feel like talking. He likes parties enough, but, well—
Jaehyun didn’t mention the party was going to be this big. Small gathering, his ass.
“It’s okay,” Jaehyun yells over the music now. “Just enjoy yourself! Don’t think too much!” He may be already a little tipsy, spiked fruit punch sloshing in one hand. After saying that, he hops off to another place, jumping between everyone he knows in the room to make conversation, which is to say, everyone.
Sungho wanders off to the drink table, and Dongmin is caught in conversation with two girls at the back of the room. Donghyun can’t help but notice they’re pretty, lips painted red, blush high on their cheeks. He lets his gaze linger for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, before he just turns to Sanghyuk instead.
They’re both not planning to drink tonight, so Donghyun will just stick with the older man, who, honestly, looks on the verge of a painful death.
“C’mon, hyung,” Donghyun says. “Let’s take a look around.” Sanghyuk looks like he’d rather eat shit, a doubtful expression etched deep on his face, but he complies wordlessly. They walk around the living room with their arms interlocked, in case one of them gets lost in the crowd. Then they go pick up meringue tarts at the dessert table. Donghyun takes a small, testing bite and screws up his face; he gives the rest to Sanghyuk, who accepts it happily.
“Hey, hyung,” Donghyun begins carefully after Sanghyuk’s had his mouth stuffed satisfactorily with dessert. “I have a question.”
Sanghyuk licks his lips and swallows in one big gulp. “Shoot.”
“Uhm,” Donghyun stutters, and falls flat. He didn't really think this through. “Basically— uh.” He sucks in a breath. Sanghyuk’s still staring at him curiously, head tilted one way as he waits for Donghyun to find the words. This has to be a humiliation ritual, Donghyun thinks.
He grits his teeth. Whatever. Sanghyuk wouldn't judge him, would he? He's a nice guy. Sure, Donghyun’s only known him for the short year that he’s been in college, but a year’s enough for the two of them. They’ve gotten close really fast, and now they’re arguably good friends, maybe some of the best. Sanghyuk will understand.
“This is, like, hypothetically speaking, by the way,” Donghyun clarifies, fidgeting with a button on his shirt. “Not that it has anything to do with me.”
Sanghyuk just nods and waits for Donghyun to move on, a small impatient furrow already forming between his brows.
Donghyun inhales deeply. Says in one breath—
“Sowhatwouldyoudoifyourbestfriendkissedyoutwiceandyoudon’tknowhwhybutyoucan’tbringitupbecauseyou’retoohumiliatedto?”
He grimaces. It sounded better in his head.
Sanghyuk’s mouth falls open for a short moment, before he collects himself. “Wow. Uh, who—” he gives a slightly suspicious look, “who’s this about?”
“Nobody,” Donghyun replies quickly. Maybe too quickly, because the doubt in Sanghyuk’s expression doesn’t fade away, but thankfully he doesn’t prod.
“I'm going to need details,” Sanghyuk says gently, the dubious edge in his voice not yet gone.
Donghyun sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just…” he scrunches his face up, “imagine your straight best friend gets drunk, and kisses you out of the blue. And then he kisses you again, a second time, and this time sober, but he acts as though everything's normal. Like—” he clears his throat. “Hypothetically. What would you, uh, do?”
Sanghyuk just stares in silence for a moment, like he's been stunned speechless. The corner of his lip twitches, a suggestion of a smile. He looks amused, even.
“That's oddly specific, Donghyun-ah,” he says with a dry laugh. “You sure this doesn't have to do with you?”
“Yep,” Donghyun says, purposefully crisping the syllables. “Pretty sure.”
Sanghyuk hums, considering. “So do you— I mean, I,” he coughs humourlessly, “like this person? My best friend.”
Donghyun flushes. “Yes. Maybe. Ugh, I don't know, it's not— it's not important.”
Sanghyuk gives him one last hard look, before his eyes melt into something endeared. “Well,” Sanghyuk emphasises, “I can't really imagine Sungho doing that to me, you know. I can’t speak for Jaehyun,” he laughs, and Donghyun huffs slightly as well, “but that’s not very platonic, I don’t think. Maybe this best friend...” he says, gesturing vaguely, “I don't know, feels differently, about, uh, us?” He waits a beat for Donghyun to respond, but when he doesn’t, Sanghyuk barrels on. “Maybe they're trying to send signals.”
"Signals?" Donghyun frowns, confused. "What do you mean, signals?"
"You know, like when you like someone. Signals." Sanghyuk's looking at Donghyun expectantly now, as though waiting for Donghyun to suddenly light up with an epiphany and shout Eureka! loud enough for the whole house to hear.
"Oh," Donghyun says, then chuckles. "No, hyung, it's not like that, you got it all wrong. We're just— I mean, you're, just, friends. He doesn't— he doesn't see it like that."
It's Sanghyuk's turn to frown. "You're, uh, sure about that, Donghyun-ah?"
"Three hundred percent sure, hyung."
Sanghyuk stares at him tiredly for a moment, then groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “You are such an idiot, Donghyun-ah. I can't believe we're even friends.”
Donghyun gasps, mock-offended. “What the heck? Rude.”
"Though I guess if you haven't figured it out yet," Sanghyuk reasons to himself, "it's probably the other person's fault as well."
Donghyun frowns. "What was that, hyung?"
Sanghyuk sighs, shaking his head, before patting Donghyun on the shoulder, in encouragement, maybe, a knowing look on his face. “You'll figure it out, Donghyun-ah. You're smart. You can do it," he says, more amused than anything. Without missing a beat, Sanghyuk grabs his hand in one fast motion and leads him towards the centre of the room, a makeshift dancefloor.
“Take me to dance?” He asks, eyes crinkled, smile lines casting pretty shadows on his face.
It brings a small warmth to Donghyun’s cheeks. “Sure, hyung.”
It’s nice. Sanghyuk takes his hand and they move to the beat of the song, Donghyun a little more clumsily than the older man. He doesn’t see Sanghyuk outside of friendship, but that doesn’t change how he has a sort of charm to him, that's mild and comforting. Sanghyuk’s presence is very calming, and Donghyun revels in his light for a moment, giggling as Sanghyuk swings him along.
The song slows, and they start making small talk with the people around them that they recognise, some from Donghyun’s lectures, some from Sanghyuk’s studio. By the time they’re finished with the third conversation Sanghyuk’s expression has turned faint. The older man mumbles something that sounds like I’m heading off, and Donghyun can only laugh and pat him on the shoulder as he shuffles off looking rather drained.
Donghyun’s standing alone now in the living room, a cola in hand, just to keep busy. He sways vaguely to the beat and glances around in boredom. A couple of guys are at the back playing beer pong, their cheers loud enough to pierce through the deafening music. He can see the moving figures of couples making out on the sofa, and, by the corners of the room, a few outlying people standing alone who look bored out of their minds, likely dragged to the party unwillingly. Donghyun probably looks like one of them. He wrinkles his nose, and sips the soda. It's already warm.
Another round of loud shouts from the beer pong table ring through the room before Donghyun feels a hand tapping his shoulder. Sanghyuk must be back.
He turns his head around quickly, only to be met by a girl’s face. Curly hair, round glasses, the outline of her face sharp. The flashing party lights are colourful, and it’s hard to make out who it is. Not Sanghyuk, clearly. Donghyun squints.
“Hi.” The girl’s face is somewhat familiar, Donghyun thinks, people blending into each other through the night. She's grinning widely, freckles glinting under the changing lights. “Kim Donghyun, right? From Marine Biology?”
Donghyun can hardly make her out below the loud ringing of the stereos, but he returns the smile anyway. “Yeah, hey, uh— you’re—” He doesn’t remember her name.
“Harin. Seo Harin, from Professor Choi’s class,” the girl — Harin — says good-naturedly. “Are you here alone?”
“Oh, no,” Donghyun shrugs, shaking his head. “My friends are here, but we split up. Jaehyun-hyung, Myung—” he makes sure to emphasise, “Jaehyun, he basically dragged all of us here. I don’t really know these people,” he says, gesturing vaguely to no one in particular.
Harin looks a little relieved at the words. “That’s good. I mean—” She presses her lips together, pink liptint glinting in the light. “I don’t recognise most of these people too. It’s nice to see a familiar face around,” she says, giving Donghyun a small smile.
Honestly, Donghyun doesn’t really even remember Harin being in his course, but it’s probably nice to know people know him, he supposes. They chat for a bit more, he laughs when he has to, she gives a few well-timed quips here and there. She’s good conversation, he supposes, and nothing about their talk feels too awkward or stilted.
His arm aches a little from holding up his soda so long. His feet are kind of sore, too. Her brown hair reminds Donghyun of someone else. He ignores the thought.
Then, in the corner of his eye, Donghyun thinks he spots Sanghyuk weaving through the crowd. “Hey, uh, I see my friend, so I’m going to head over. It was—” he smiles politely, “it was nice meeting you.”
“Yeah, me too. Hey, um—” Harin says, shooting out a hand lightly on Donghyun’s arm as he makes to leave, “Could I get your SNS?” She looks down at her own hands, bashful. Her eyes are large and doe-like, lashes fluttering. “You’re pretty, uh— pretty cool. I’d like to get to know you better.”
Donghyun contemplates for a short moment, before taking out his phone. Why not? She seems nice enough. It’ll be good to have more friends in the same major as him, he reasons. And besides, she was really nice while listening to Donghyun ramble on about his interests, and how he now has more than twenty fishes in his new tank back at the dorm (which he had to beg the housemaster to let him bring in). People usually stop paying attention by the time Donghyun gets to which are his favourite fish, so it’s a good change, for once. Probably because she likes fish too, right? Marine biology, and what not.
“Well,” Donghyun says after they exchange information, “see you around.”
Harin grins and walks off towards a group of friends, a small bounce in her step. She’s smiling widely and talking much more animatedly with them than she had been with Donghyun, showing them a page on her phone. Briefly he wonders what she could be telling them for her to look so excited, then he turns away, back to the crowd.
“‘See you around?’ Why would you say that?”
Donghyun startles at the sudden voice behind him. He whips his head around quickly, only to see an awfully familiar face.
“Shit, man,” he breathes, heart still thumping heavily. “Where did you come from?”
“Hey,” Dongmin assures, hands up in mock surrender. He has a small smile on his face, which is slightly pink; from the light or from the drinks, Donghyun can’t tell. “It’s just me.”
His hair is a little mussed up compared to the gelled version he entered the party with, bangs messy over his eyes. He’s wearing a dark leather jacket over a low tank top that’s a strange choice for the weather, and showing way too much collar, really. A pair of simple black earrings hang on his earlobes, and Donghyun thinks he can see a swipe of eyeliner at the ends of Dongmin’s lashes. When they first arrived at the party Donghyun was trying his best not to let his vision be directed towards anywhere near Dongmin, but now he’s forced to confront the other man’s face either way.
It’s just me, Dongmin said. But even now, Donghyun can’t tell him that he is everything, the moon and stars encapsulated in one person, everything that Donghyun has ever known, such that the statement doesn’t really help at all. So he doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “What’s wrong with it? ‘See you around’ is friendly.”
Dongmin only shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s like you want her to talk to you.”
“I’m just making new friends.”
Dongmin scoffs bitterly. “You sure that’s what she thinks?” His voice has turned a little sour. Donghyun doesn’t really get why, but he’s starting to feel defensive anyway.
Donghyun sniffs. “Well, you looked like you were having a lot of fun with those girls back there.” He knows he’s being petty, but he can’t help it. The words just go spilling out of him. And anyway, it’s true. Dongmin must’ve been there all night, chatting up those two pretty ladies Donghyun can’t recall the faces of now.
Dongmin tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed like he doesn’t know what Donghyun’s talking about. “Which girls?” And Donghyun wants to, he doesn’t know, scream or kick around or kiss him straight on the lips or sucker punch him. He can’t do this, not now.
The crowd is almost claustrophobic by this point, but Dongmin isn’t making any move at backing up. They’re basically pressed up against each other now; Donghyun can see his cupid’s bow dip as he speaks, strange and terrible and so very familiar.
Donghyun groans, looking away, face hot. “It doesn’t matter anymore, I guess.”
He does know what things do matter, though; things like, that single forgotten night with blood and alcohol in their veins, the giddy walk back up to their room, the dip of Dongmin’s bed from one too many people laying on it. Things like, a short, soft, sweet kiss that tasted like popcorn and cola, the smell of Dongmin’s conditioner, fresh and clean. Things like, the way Dongmin’s looking at him right now, the curve of his smile, his low voice. Many things.
But they aren’t talking about them now, so Donghyun thinks they just won’t talk about them at all.
Dongmin juts his lips out, just slightly, like he’s pouting. It’s disgusting. It’s so cute Donghyun will never admit it.
“You were dancing with Sanghyuk-hyung,” he points out, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like that was the thing that was actually bothering him this whole time. “I didn’t even know you guys got so close,” he mutters afterwards, under his breath, as though he didn’t even mean to say it out loud.
Donghyun’s stunned silent. Mostly he’s just surprised that Dongmin has been watching him since all the way back then, the same way he’d been keeping an eye on Dongmin. A flush creeps up his face at the thought of being seen, even under low light and deafening music.
“I—” Donghyun clears his throat, patting his free hand on his jeans, wiping the dampness away. They’ve gotten sweaty. “It was nothing.” He’s not sure why he phrases it like he’s done something wrong, but the words roll naturally on his tongue anyway.
Maybe it’s the mood, all uneasy and tense in a way that’s unfamiliar. Like they’re stepping on new ground, crossing lines that weren’t established in the first place.
Dongmin frowns, just imperceptibly enough other people probably couldn’t notice it if they weren’t like Donghyun, and knew exactly what to look for, where to look for it.
But he shrugs again. “Guess we’re even, then.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Donghyun says quickly. “And anyway—” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “she wasn’t asking for anything. Just…from the same major. Wanted to chat.”
“But you gave her your SNS?”
Donghyun groans. “I barely check it anyway. You know that.”
Dongmin purses his lips in contemplation, as though wanting to bicker more. Donghyun doesn’t get it anyway. What does it have to do with Dongmin if someone comes up to him to ask for his number? It’s not like Donghyun has ever stopped Dongmin from getting together with his high school sweethearts.
The thought heats up his face. He quickly brushes it aside.
Then Dongmin sighs. His shoulders relax, falling from where they were tensed up earlier. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Huh. It’s not what Donghyun expected him to say. Some crooked variation of, I bet she wouldn’t text you back anyway, or something, seemed more apt, teasing and lighthearted. The words feel too soft, too raw now. Or something.
Donghyun looks up from his drink, and in a flash of red light from one of the corners of the room Dongmin looks flushed. Bashful, almost— relieved.
Donghyun is suddenly grateful for the dim lighting in the room, because he’s certain his own cheeks are red. They haven’t addressed the biggest problem in the room, swerving around bumpy conversation.
Donghyun’s not sure there even is anything to address. Dongmin's certainly not acting like it.
The question hangs unspoken on the roof of Donghyun's mouth. What’s up with us? Or more accurately, What’s up with you?
He can almost hear Sanghyuk’s voice, all-knowing and empathetic: You’ll figure it out.
Well, he’s not figuring shit out right now. Except maybe the exact shade of Dongmin’s eyes when the mirrorball hung up on the ceiling turns a certain way and reflects an iridescent spark within his pupils, like scattered glass and wet rain, like the glint of sunlight at the end of the horizon.
An awkward silence settles between them suddenly, like a heavy blanket. They don’t speak, just staring, and Donghyun can’t help but wrestle with the fact that he has to tilt his head up just a little to meet Dongmin in the middle. He sniffs. The air is suddenly a lot stuffier.
Donghyun has to break the stare first, blinking rapidly once he wrenches his gaze away. He clears his throat. Stammers out, “So—”
“Should we—”
They start speaking at the time, and Donghyun pauses, eyes wide. “You go first,” he says.
Dongmin makes a face. “No, you can go first.”
“I didn’t have anything super important to say,” Donghyun replies. It’s a strange back and forth, but these days everything to do with Dongmin is strange. Things used to be simple, he thinks, back in their old town, when Donghyun could spend the whole day staring at Dongmin’s tan line under the convenience store shade and not get caught.
He misses those times, sure, but they made it out, somehow, and here they are now. Donghyun watches as sweat drips down Dongmin’s temple, like it did down their legs in the summers of their teenage years, and Donghyun thinks as the music echoes loud within his chest that maybe things have never been simple between them.
Then it happens, a quick thing, like it always is. The jostling of the crowd, a bump of the elbow, a lurch forward. A hand on his shoulder, a firm pressure on his lips.
Their lips are connected slightly off-centre, a pure accident. Dongmin’s lips land at the corner of Donghyun’s mouth. Donghyun freezes as Dongmin pulls back, eyes wide open like he didn’t expect it either. His mouth is slightly open, as he slowly blinks at Donghyun.
(What shocked him the most, funny enough, was not the sheer luck of it, or the actual fact of Dongmin’s lips on his; but rather just how familiar he’s grown to the feeling of that softness against his own mouth, ever so slightly smearing the lip balm he so painstakingly applies all day long. He’s learnt what Dongmin’s lips feel like. He wants to die. He tastes cherry between his teeth, sweeter than it has ever been.)
They stare at each other again. Donghyun isn’t sure he can break the silence between them, even as the noise around seeps into the cracks of their own glass dome, the one that's separating them from the rest of the world right now.
Dongmin darts out a tongue, wets his lips, and Donghyun hiccups.
Dongmin’s face breaks into a smile, then, suddenly, almost helplessly. Donghyun can’t help but stare. Wonders, what the fuck?, not for the first time, but does nothing to stop the heat rising to his cheeks.
Dongmin’s laughing now, full chuckles that rival the volume of the music in Donghyun’s ears, and it forces a dry huff from Donghyun. He hiccups again, which sends Dongmin into another fit of giggles Donghyun feels are definitely not appropriate for the situation at hand, really. His face is full of colour. He looks so, so lovely, Donghyun can’t do anything, not really, not ever. Not now.
Dongmin doesn’t hesitate this time when he opens his mouth. “Should we get out of here?” He’s basically yelling over the music by this point, mouth curled upwards, pure glee shining in his eyes.
Again, it’s not what Donghyun expects from him. These days, he's learnt it's better not to expect anything at all.
“Sure,” he says anyway. The word comes out too quickly to pretend it was casual.
He fumbles with the cup in his hand, chugging down the rest of his soda like water, feeling the fizz run down his throat like little rain droplets on stones by the riverbank back home. They grab their coats and exit wordlessly, and not for a second does Donghyun’s mind land on the rest of the guys back at the party.
They walk down the street, the music from the party still ringing behind them. Donghyun doesn’t know where they’re going, but it probably doesn’t matter.
Dongmin’s telling him about something that happened, smile big and wild like they were still kids in the way Donghyun loves so much, has always loved so much, and Donghyun burns. He burns with the heat of a thousand suns; not quite like the kind of a scald from hot water, sharp and searing, but like that of standing near a bonfire, watching the sparks fly into the air and letting the crackles ease themselves into your bones; a burn that has been there since Donghyun was born, a burn warmer than anything in the world.
He burns, flushed through his whole body even as the early winter air tugs at his hair and tickles his ears cold, and now he can’t bring himself to really think about anything at all, so he doesn't notice when Dongmin inches closer to him and brushes their pinkies together. He doesn't notice that Dongmin’s ears are red with something more than the cold.
He only looks straight ahead, and wonders dimly if he is an idiot after all.