Chapter Text
“On soft spring nights I’ll stand in the yard under the stars—Something good will come out of all things yet—And it will be golden and eternal just like that— There’s no need to say another word.” — Jack Keruoac, Big Sur.
DECEMBER 29, 2027
5:23 PM
They take a car and drive down until they reach the coast, eventually ending up in Laurito, a small town on the western end of Italy where utterly no one can reach them. The cell service is fine here, but Doyoung doesn’t try to test it out too much. He and Taeyong talk so much there’s no space for anything else.
It’s been a very long time since they’ve talked this much.
“I don’t think I like this song. Put one of ours on.”
Taeyong’s legs are pulled up on the seat under him. He stretches one out to poke his toes to Doyoung’s thigh. “Which one do you want?”
Doyoung keeps his eyes on the road when he reaches down to grab hold of Taeyong’s wriggling foot. “Whichever one you want.”
The sun is near setting on the horizon. They’ve been climbing this mountain road for the past 20 minutes and, still, there’s a bit of a way to go. There’s no road lights here, in the empty space between one town and the next, but they’re high up enough that the sun rays over the ocean hit them directly.
Doyoung chances a look over, and finds Taeyong already watching him.
His lips twitch. “What?”
“What, what?”
“You know what. Why are you staring?”
“You know why.” When Doyoung looks again, Taeyong’s smiling at him. Once their eyes meet, he looks away. He’s so shy.
Shy, and honest. Doyoung shouldn’t be surprised by it, but honesty begets honesty. This is a lesson parents teach their children early on, and then the kids learn that a little white lie isn’t too bad of a thing. It might even be preferable. In the past few days, Doyoung’s re-learned his lesson — Taeyong’s honesty comes of Doyoung’s honesty, too, and it pays off. It really, really does. Even as his heart beats hard in his chest, even as he fears it a little while he’s saying it, still.
Doyoung reaches over to graze Taeyong’s cheek with slightly trembling knuckles. “I know.”
Taeyong leans into his touch, and after a moment of indulgence, Doyoung pulls away. He turns up the volume of their song a little bit more, and the two of them stay quiet for a while. They’re almost at the vacation rental Doyoung found for them three days ago.
It’s been slow going between here and Rome. They’d ended up staying an extra night in the city as Doyoung figured out their airfare and where they should head next, and then that ended up taking them another day of planning and finding a place to rent out for a couple of weeks. It was only six hours ago that they’d set out on the road down south, and only eighteen hours since they’d booked everything out.
They don’t have return flights to Seoul anymore. Doyoung’s found a villa to stay at for the next two and a half weeks but, even then, it feels too short. They’ll figure that out in two weeks time, though. It’s one of the first times where Doyoung’s okay with not having a real plan. His vision reaches as far as fourteen days out and no more, and he’s glad to be steering half-blind in that direction.
Doyoung turns to Taeyong and, finding him meeting his gaze readily, reaches out to squeeze his ear. Taeyong huffs out a laugh. Like this, it’s enough.
Apart from these small touches, neither of them have really pushed for more. Doyoung doubts Taeyong hasn’t thought about it, though, because Doyoung’s been thinking about it — hesitantly, nimbly, still a little wary and a lot nervous. But he’s thought about it.
Hugging Taeyong close. Kissing him. Sleeping beside him. Undressing him — sleeping together. It’s the approximation of it, the way neither of them reach for more, that ties his hands together. It’s only been three days and now that he’s allowing his wants to breach the surface without burden, he’s learning just how far they truly go. Twelve years is a long time to love someone and do nothing about it.
Taeyong hums under his breath, eyes closed and lulled to sleepiness by the movements of their car. Doyoung keeps on driving steady for him.
He holds the steering wheel tighter, his fingers itching for touch.
Minutes later, they pass a steep mountain curve that gives way to the first signs of the town. Streetlights line the main roads, and concrete homes are painted varying shades of yellow and beige. There’s a deep darkness in the hills that rise in the background, where there’s trees covering every inch of the mountains that aren’t marred by lights.
Their rental home is just on the edge of a cliff, closer to the end of the town than the center of it. When he parks the car and they enter, it’s the balcony Taeyong heads to first, leaving Doyoung to unpack their suitcases and bags and wrappers from grocery-bought sandwiches.
“Young-ah, you need to see this!”
Or maybe he can deal with them later. It’s not like any of the 941 (he looked it up) people living here are gonna come and take their bags from them.
Besides, they have a really, really good view.
“Good job,” Taeyong smiles, leaning his hands forward on the concrete, pillared railing. “You chose well. I’m gonna get our bags.”
The balcony’s full of plants dead from the cold, but Doyoung can imagine how pretty this all looks in the summer. Lush, green. They have a straight view to the ocean below, and the few other houses leaning on the hill.
The house has a full kitchen and living room, two full bathrooms and a single bedroom with two beds. Taeyong insisted on the one room. They also have two dining rooms — one beside the kitchen, and one in a separate balcony. It’s just a tiny metal table with four chairs around it, but Doyoung’s excited by it anyway. The mornings, he thinks. It’s going to be so good in the mornings.
But, first, the night.
Doyoung goes outside to help Taeyong heave the rest of their bags inside, and as Taeyong wheels their suitcases into the bedroom and Doyoung puts the remains of their food in the refrigerator, he takes stock of what they’ll need for the rest of the time they’re here. They’ll have to go grocery shopping for sure, and their toiletries should last them, but if they don’t, they’ll have to look for more too.
He doesn’t know what’s open in the winter here, in a town of 900. He realizes he’s never been someplace with so few people before.
Taeyong walks into the kitchen just then. “So, what do you think?”
Doyoung stares at him a little. “Hm? I like it. What do you think?”
“You like it? Don’t you love it? Doyoungie, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
“I—” Doyoung laughs, flustered. “You helped choose it, too.”
“No, I just looked through the choices you found. You know me, I don’t have the patience for it.”
“That’s right,” Doyoung nods. Then, because he’s still thinking about how alone they are now, he says, “I know you.” There’s heat in his words, he hears, like he’s removed from himself.
Taeyong stares. After a moment, he smiles.
“I’m going to shower.”
He touches Doyoung’s arm and lets his hand linger there before he leaves. Doyoung doesn’t attempt to follow. Instead, he turns to the kitchen dining table and grabs a seat, opening his phone to see if he’s missed any messages or calls in the past several hours he’s ignored the world outside this.
Three calls from his mother. Several texts from friends, but none that are pressing, except one message from Johnny.
Hey, how’s everything going? Thought you guys were coming back a few days ago?
Right. This one should be relatively easy to answer.
We’re staying a bit longer, just traveling around.
After several long, silent moments: That’s good! Everything going all right?
Doyoung bites his lip. It’s actually going really well. We talked.
Doyoung-ah, I’m really glad. That’s really good to hear. Take care of each other then?
Yeah, we’ll take care. We’ll see you when we get back.
No rush. See you guys when you get back :)
Everything is so easy with Johnny sometimes. He understands and knows both Doyoung and Taeyong inside and out, so it’s almost expected of him to be so easy to accept things as they come, when it comes to them. It gives Doyoung courage to shoot a text over to his mom — on the fly, without too much thought behind it either:
We’re traveling around Italy for the next week or so. We changed our plans last-minute. Don’t worry. Hope you’re okay.
He locks his phone away for the night and gets up to shower in the other bathroom.
DECEMBER 30, 2027
9:45 AM
The next morning, Taeyong wakes slowly; warm and comfortable under the bedsheets but feeling the cold nipping at his cheeks and nose where his face is uncovered. This house doesn't have great insulation. He turns his head into his pillow.
And then he hears the steady breathing a little ways beside him.
Without opening his eyes, Taeyong shifts over on his side under the pretense of someone still sleeping and looking to get comfortable. When he hears nothing from the bed next to his, he opens them.
Doyoung sleeps soundly on his pillow, one arm thrown up over his head. The duvet cover rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing. His eyelids flutter under the bit of sun peeking in through the white sheer curtains that hang over the room’s glass doors.
In the silence, Taeyong thinks he can hear the waves crash on the shore way below this hill. All the way below this house. It’s cloudless today. A beautiful day.
Taeyong looks at Doyoung for a moment that is so still and quiet he finds that his breaths and his heart stutter in his chest in their attempt to remain still and quiet, too.
He brings the sheets up to his chin, snuzzles his face there, and closes his eyes again. He sleeps.
It’s not until the sun is high overhead and the room begins heating up that Taeyong wakes up again. This time, Doyoung’s bed is empty and rumpled — he didn’t make his bedsheets. He always makes them, but it seems like Doyoung on true vacation is a different version of him altogether. He’s letting go of his more measured habits, little by little.
Taeyong inhales deeply, stretching languidly on the bed.
A few moments later, Doyoung comes into the room with a towel pressing over his wet hair. His sandals make little scuffling noises as he walks and takes a seat on his bed. He faces Taeyong, and when their eyes meet, he smiles.
Taeyong smiles back.
“Sleep well?”
“I did, really well. How about you?”
“Me too.” Doyoung goes back to rubbing his hair dry. “I slept really well, actually.”
“Oh? Better than in Rome?”
“Better than in Rome. I liked being able to hear you sleep next to me.”
That brings a pleasant flush to Taeyong’s cheeks. “Doyoung-ah.”
He feels like hitting Doyoung’s shoulder like a shy schoolboy, like he’s never had someone flirt with him so blatantly. But it’s nothing new. Taeyong could never handle Doyoung when he was forward with him. He still can’t, and it seems like no amount of love told can change that. Maybe it’s only made it worse.
Like he’s embarrassed at himself, Doyoung laughs and it sounds close to a giggle. “Sorry, was that too much?”
Taeyong nods, laughing, but then he shakes his head. He pulls an arm out of his blankets and holds his hand up in the space between their beds. Doyoung’s palm meets his.
“It’s not too much, Doyoung-ah. I don’t want you thinking it is.”
“You just need some time to get used to it?”
“Mm. Sorry if it takes me a while though.”
He doesn’t say — it makes my heart race. He’s not trying to be clichéd himself.
Doyoung shakes his head reassuringly, his palm soft and a little dry from the winter months. Their fingers intertwine and then entangle again, and again, and again. Taeyong plays with Doyoung’s knuckles, moving them against his own. His heart beats steady and loud.
Doyoung squeezes Taeyong’s hand before letting go. “I’ll make you breakfast. Anything you want?”
“Do we have anything?”
Doyoung nods. “I went out while you slept. There’s a grocery store a few minutes away, and I got us eggs and bread and cereal. Coffee, too. Pancake mix, but I’m not sure how good it looks. They didn’t have white rice.”
Taeyong hums, “Fried egg and toast? I’m good with no coffee.”
“I’ll put on a pot anyway. Feel free to grab some, I’ll make enough for two.”
“Enough for two?”
Doyoung smiles, rolling his eyes. He stands and reaches over to mess up Taeyong’s bedhead some more. “Yeah, enough for two. Get ready, I’ll take you into town today. You’ll like it. There’s Christmas decorations everywhere.”
“Okay,” Taeyong agrees easily. He watches Doyoung walk out of their bedroom and into their kitchen.
DECEMBER 30, 2027
1:59 PM
“What do you want to do tomorrow?”
“What, for New Year’s?”
“Yeah. The entire town’s probably gonna celebrate. We should find out what they’re doing.”
Doyoung stops in front of the one in two coffee shops in Laurito. “Should we ask?”
Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “Should we? You speak enough Italian for that?”
“We’ll find out.”
Doyoung opens the door for Taeyong to step through first, and then he walks them over to the front counter. The coffee shop is small — the walls are an unfinished brick, with artwork of various seaside landscapes in spring and summer all over. There’s two elderly couples at tables here, their scarves and coats hanging over the back of their chairs. An old cuckoo clock strikes its chime where it hangs behind the cashier box.
An old man stands behind the counter and he looks up to greet them. “Buongiorno, hello.”
Doyoung smiles, “Hello. Due caffè americano, per favore?”
The man raises his eyebrows in pleased surprise, nodding with a flourish. He gestures for them to take a seat.
When they grab a table near the corner, right next to the window so they can look out at the few passerby making their way through the town’s central square, Taeyong turns to him with eyes wide. “You weren’t ordering like that in Rome.”
It’s not a question, but Doyoung nods anyway. “Didn’t want us going in blind to a small town.”
“But did you learn in secret? I’ve never seen you practice?”
Doyoung breathes out a laugh. “I may have.”
Taeyong shakes his head, a crooked smile on his face. He’s opening his mouth to say more when the man brings their coffees to them. Before he leaves, Doyoung stops him with a stutter.
“Um, hai festeggiamenti? Nuovi anni, Laurito?”
The man laughs at Doyoung’s broken speech, but he understands. He nods, “Domani, in piazza. Grande celebrazione. Molte persone vengono qui.”
Doyoung nods slowly, trying to catch the meaning even as it escapes his ears. The man takes note of Doyoung’s lost gaze and laughs again, repeating slowly, “In piazza. Domani— tomorrow. Sei in punto.” He holds up six fingers, and both Doyoung and Taeyong understand that.
Doyoung lets out a breath, smiling. He holds up the universal OK hand sign. “Grazie mille.”
The man inclines his head one more time, shooting them a curious look before returning to the counter.
Doyoung turns back to Taeyong and their coffees, and finds Taeyong biting back a smile. He asks, “What?”
“It’s just…never mind. I didn’t catch most of that, by the way. You better have understood it.”
Doyoung kicks at Taeyong’s shin under the table, and they devolve into a quiet game of footsy. Like this, giddy with anonymity, it’s easy to forget that they’re not the only ones at the coffee shop. He traps Taeyong’s foot with his legs and doesn’t let go.
“I understood all of that fine,” Doyoung grins, gritting his teeth as Taeyong tries to pull his leg away. “Tomorrow, at 6pm. In the plaza. There’s going to be a celebration for the new year’s.”
“You better be right,” Taeyong huffs, letting go of all tension in his legs. Doyoung stumbles into the table at the lack of fight, their coffees tinkling in their little porcelain cups and plates, but still he holds Taeyong’s foot steady between his own. “I’m trusting you with our plans.”
“You can trust me.”
“Hm,” Taeyong says, picking up his coffee for a sip. His eyes are playful as they stare at Doyoung over the rim of his cup.
Doyoung brings Taeyong’s foot a little tighter to him. “So, we’ve got plans for tomorrow. Anything you want to do today?”
“Should we go down to the beach? It’s sunny out today.”
“The water’s going to be cold.”
“And I didn’t bring a bathing suit. Let’s just go look. We can walk down, right?”
“Let me check. It should be a bit of a walk, but I think we can do it.” Doyoung gets his phone out, opening the Maps app. “It’s 30 minutes.”
“That’s fine, right? We can go right after this.”
“Mm,” Doyoung nods. “There’s a few restaurants down there too. We can get lunch if they’re open…I’m not sure if they’re closed in the winter.”
“It’s a holiday town, maybe they open for winter holidays and the summers?”
“Maybe.”
“We could ask.”
“That’s something that I don’t think I can manage, to be honest.”
Taeyong smiles, “I’ll learn, Doyoungie. Don’t worry about that.”
Something in Taeyong’s voice reminds Doyoung of their hotel room in Rome, of him crying into their joined hands. He smiles back. They finish their coffees.
When they’re back out on the streets, Doyoung makes sure to tug Taeyong’s scarf around his neck.
DECEMBER 30, 2027
2:50 PM
The waters of the Mediterranean are unbelievably frigid in the midst of winter, yet as Taeyong dips his toes and hands in, he feels safe. He’s surrounded by the mountains and cradled by the gentle waves washing up on the shore. When he turns his head back to the beach, Doyoung is there looking up at the sky and then meeting his eyes.
Taeyong whirls his head back around with a laugh. He closes his eyes and crouches down on the sand. The sun shines down on him and warms him somewhat, so he wiggles his toes to recover some feeling in them.
He’s content, which is not strange, but it is strange how the realization only just hits him now. The Italian coffee they drank sits heavy in his stomach, but in a way that grounds him rather than weighs him down. The cold nipping at his nose feels nice. Doyoung’s hand on Taeyong’s nape is even nicer.
“Wish we’d come here in the summer,” Doyoung says. He’s got a to-go cup in his other hand, the one that’s not massaging the back of Taeyong’s neck. “We could go for a swim.”
“We could.” Taeyong shrugs, “That’d be really nice.”
“Would you want to? Come back, that is? Or do you want to go somewhere else this summer?”
Taeyong pins Doyoung with a look. “Are we traveling together?”
“Do you not want to?”
“Are we?”
“I’m asking you.”
Taeyong huffs out a shocked laugh. Doyoung stares back without so much as breaking a smile, and here he goes again. Taeyong can’t handle him at his most honest — Doyoung’s always managed to get the best of him when he is.
“So we are.”
“Yes, we are. So where do you want to go this summer? You want to come back here? I can find us someplace by the beach, if that’s what you want.”
“Doyoung-ah,” Taeyong steps away from Doyoung’s touch, smiling with a touch of bafflement. Suddenly, this morning and this all adds up into a pattern. “You don’t need to bend over backward for me, you know that, right?”
“I’m not. I just…”
Doyoung shrugs, letting his free hand fall next to his hip. A pang of hurt shudders through Taeyong for pulling away, but he needs to. If they were touching, they would both be impaired. They can’t have conversations like that, when they’re close enough to let their bodies figure themselves out instead of their words.
The wind picks up, white clouds passing over them quickly. The sun is gentle in its golden glow.
Doyoung’s hair sways with the sea breeze.
“It’s just, what?”
“I want us to be happy,” Doyoung says. He grimaces. “But I feel like I’ll mess things up. I’ve messed us up a lot already.”
“So you’ll treat me differently from how you always do?”
“Am I? It’s not so different, is it?”
Taeyong smiles, eyes narrowed. He lifts a hand to run his fingers over Doyoung’s bangs, pushing his hair back. “You’re being too nice.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
“Mm,” Taeyong nods. Doyoung sighs, so Taeyong gives him some space and takes his hand away. “You don’t need to treat me any different. It’s nice that you want to make it up to me, but you don’t have to.”
“Don’t I, though?”
“We’ve been over this. What’s in the past is in the past. Let’s focus on each other, right now.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” Doyoung’s tone verges on a whine, and Taeyong laughs.
“Try harder, then. Focus on yourself some more.”
Doyoung sighs again. He looks out at the waves lapping over the pebbled shore, and Taeyong wiggles his freezing toes close, close, closer until they’re standing directly in front of each other. In one another’s line of sight.
“I’m focused on you,” Taeyong tells him. “That’s why I know you need to pay attention to what you want too, not just what I want.”
They regard each other for a quiet moment.
Doyoung’s mouth opens and closes before he speaks up. “I forget you’re my hyung.”
“That’s right,” Taeyong smiles. He sing-songs, “And you’re my dongsaeng. Doyoungie.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes, turning away from Taeyong with an incredulous puff of fake laughter. Right before his face turns, though, Taeyong catches sight of a reddening in his ears. Just at the very tip, and growing redder by the minute. It used to be that Taeyong would rarely ever elicit such a reaction from him, but maybe it pays to be separated for a time. Even if Taeyong wouldn’t choose it again.
“So, tell your hyung,” Taeyong skips over to Doyoung, matching in his steps. “What do you want to do this summer? Forget about me for a second. Let me hear what you want.”
“Hm,” Doyoung steals a glance at Taeyong then whirls his head back around. Their steps crackle on the smooth beach stones below. “What if I just want to relax?”
“You’re always relaxing. You relax at home. In fact, we’re relaxing right now, so what do you mean by ‘relaxing’?”
“I mean—” Doyoung rolls his eyes. He speeds up his pace, muttering under his breath about how this is ‘ridiculous’.
Taeyong lets him walk by himself for a little bit, just enough to for him to get rid of his own embarrassment, and so Taeyong can run up to tug his arm. “It’s not stupid. Come on, tell me what you want.”
Doyoung takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, I just want us to spend time together. Relaxing. It can be anywhere, I don’t mind.”
“I like that idea. But tell me, do you want us in the mountains or on the beach? North or south? Asia or Europe? Are we going to a hotel, or a rental home? A resort? Or do you want to stay home?”
“You’re asking too many questions.”
“And you’re not giving me enough answers.” Taeyong bumps shoulders with him. “Let me give you an example. I also just want to spend time together, but I’d like us to be somewhere where it’s just the two of us. Like right now.”
Taeyong sweeps his arms to gesture at the beach in front of them, of which they’re the only two people on it. Maybe it’s the low temperatures, or maybe it’s that most people in this town seem to be too old to climb the steps down to the beach just as the evening is beginning to descend on them, but this is it. There’s just them two.
Which is maybe why Doyoung takes the liberty to kiss Taeyong’s face, at the meeting point between his temple and the corner of his eye, and it’s more familiar than anything else but it still makes Taeyong’s entire body stop. He isn’t expecting it — not out here, in the open. Not in this conversation. Not without any build-up, and not because it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like when they said I love you to each other, one right after the other. A clear line of succession between them. One loves, the other loves. Taeyong cheeks flare and warm from this small, inconsequential kiss.
The sun shines on them. Doyoung stares at Taeyong like he’s afraid of what his reaction is going to be, and Taeyong’s body thrums with so much energy he’s unable to move in a way that’s reassuring. He’s unable to move at all, almost embarrassed by his reaction.
Despite that, Doyoung still takes Taeyong’s wrist and leads him toward the restaurants at the edge of the beach. Where wrist bone meets thumb, he feels Doyoung’s pulse jackrabbiting under his skin.
“I’ll look into places tonight, if you want,” Doyoung says. He’s biting, worrying at his bottom lip and Taeyong stares. “I think the beach would be nice. We can go somewhere a little closer to home.”
Taeyong finds himself nodding. “Okay.”
Doyoung looks back and smiles. “Let’s talk about it over lunch.”
And over lunch, just as their third shared entree is making its way to their table and the sea breeze grazes their cheeks and the wine heats their insides, Doyoung tells him, “Thank you,” and Taeyong knows what it’s for. He wants to tell him ‘thank you’, too, but saves it for later. There’s still much to be grateful for.
DECEMBER 31, 2027
10:27 PM
“Taeyong-ah, we’re going to be late!”
Doyoung grabs the house keys from the kitchen counter, where he left them when he came back from his pharmacy run of sunscreen and dish soap.
From the bedroom, he hears a loud thump before Taeyong stumbles out of the room with a hand over his head, eyes screwed shut in pain.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Wait,” Doyoung walks up to Taeyong, cupping his cheeks perfunctorily and pulling his head down so he can see the top of his head. With how close they are in height, it’s a bit of a stretch. Doyoung steps up on his tip-toes.
Taeyong muffles a laugh.
“What’s so funny, huh?” Doyoung grins, shaking Taeyong’s face a little in his hold. “I’m trying to make sure you’re not injured.”
“No, no, of course.” A snicker. “Thank you, Doyoungie. Best friend ever.”
Doyoung raises an eyebrow, letting go of Taeyong to grab onto his hand and pull him through the house. Taeyong follows along easily, letting himself be steered out of the door and through their courtyard.
The night air is crisp enough to cause a sting in their noses, so Doyoung pulls his scarf a little tighter around his neck. Taeyong follows suit. There’s not a lot of people out in their residential area, each house well-enough separated from each other, so they make their way down to the town square where the town’s lights are burning bright in the midst of the dark landscape of the mountains.
At the town’s New Year’s Eve party, there’s music playing and people mill around strangers. Children walk with sparklers in their hands while parents and elderly couples hold cups of wine and hot drinks to combat the cold. There’s a line of neatly-arranged firework poppers ready to be set off right in the middle of the town square. It’s a local production, manned right at the center of Laurito for all to see.
Taeyong disentangles their hands, but steps closer to Doyoung. They look like the only foreigners here, and the townspeople know it, so they let Doyoung and Taeyong stand to the side while the residents and regular Italian vacationers set things up.
Taeyong swivels his head around. “It’s busy here.”
It is. If this isn’t all of Laurito’s 900 residents, it’s got to be at least over half. “Everyone’s past their bedtime.” Doyoung points discreetly at an elderly couple that’s yawning while their younger family members stand around in a circle, laughing over someone’s joke.
Taeyong covers up his own laughter behind a gloved hand. “Just like my parents.”
Doyoung mulls the thought over. He says, “We’re not far off from that. I remember when my parents started getting too tired to be out late at night. There's only a decade or so left for us.”
Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, I’ll be the most hyper old man you’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, with how much you like to be home?”
“Look who’s talking. As if you don’t spend all your free time in bed.”
Doyoung sighs, nodding. “Yeah, I’m afraid my bedtime is going to be 7 p.m. at some point.”
A laugh. “At least you’ll wake up early. Get a head start on the day.”
“I’d make you breakfast in the mornings.”
It comes out of him, unbidden. Doyoung’s cheeks flare as soon as he says it, and Taeyong stares at him in much the same way he did when Doyoung pressed a kiss to his temple. It’s almost funny how fast Doyoung’s lost his self-preservation skills. Why would he say that? He’s being too much — they said they’d take it slowly.
Doyoung wanted to take it slowly. At least, he thinks that’s what he wanted. With how he’s been acting, he’s not sure if what he thought he wanted was simply marred by his old thoughts of always being careful, never revealing too much.
“Hmm,” Taeyong breaks their gaze, eyes turned down. He smiles, looking embarrassed, and his reaction only makes Doyoung more embarrassed for himself. God.
They stand in silence for a few moments.
“You’re being very forward with me, did you know?”
“Hm? Oh.” Doyoung grimaces. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Taeyong shakes his head. “I told you yesterday that I wanted to know what you wanted, so don’t apologize. Just tell me. I won’t bite.”
“Sometimes it feels like you might,” Doyoung mutters.
“Why?”
“No, ignore that. It was childish.”
“I know it was, so why do you feel that way?”
“Hyung.”
“Doyoung-ah.”
Doyoung blows out a breath, closing his eyes. He feels foolish. It feels like if he’s too forward, Taeyong will look at him too closely, as if in analysis. Doyoung is not sure what to say. His emotions spill over and that’s it.
But that feels like a cop-out answer. He knows that’s not it.
“Taeyongie,” Doyoung tries instead. “I—you know.”
“I know what?”
“You know.”
Taeyong bites his lips to stop himself from laughing, so Doyoung steps forward to squish his cheeks together. His heart is beating hard in his chest. Taeyong’s lips pucker out like a fish, and it’s ridiculous, but Doyoung’s eyes still flick down to look at them.
“You know—”
“I do,” Taeyong interrupts, words muffled. He nods his head until Doyoung eases the pressure on Taeyong’s cheeks. He smiles. “You love me?”
Doyoung’s heart beats faster, a rabbit-thumping in his body. “Yes.”
“So what are you scared of?”
Doyoung’s words come easily. “You. Me. And I shouldn’t be, I just love you.”
“Wah,” Taeyong whistles lowly. He’s making it seem like less of a big deal than it is, but Doyoung sees how his ears and neck turn pink-red. It puts Doyoung at ease, knowing that he’s trying to be brave for him too. Taeyong’s eyes shine fiercely. “I love you, too. So don’t be afraid. It’s just me.”
Doyoung lets go of his face.
“I know.”
“So?”
“So you’re the man I’ve been in love with for like 12 years. Of course I’m a little scared. Aren’t you?”
Taeyong gasps out a laugh, shocked. “Oh my god.”
“What, you can’t handle it now?”
“You’re so—”
“Forward?”
“Yes! Let me catch my breath.”
At that moment, one of the kids standing with the big group of children comes up to them with two sparklers already lit. He hands Taeyong the sparklers, saying something in Italian that neither of them quite catch before he’s running off to his friends. Taeyong receives them with mirth clear in his eyes. He’s still trying to control the giggles that escape him.
Taeyong hands Doyoung one of the sparklers, not letting their hands touch for longer than necessary. He’s smiling, still.
“Okay, so you’re going to make me breakfast when we’re old?”
“Oh, stop,” Doyoung rolls his eyes. He pushes at Taeyong’s shoulders. “You’re the one who spent the last five minutes trying to ‘catch his breath’.”
“Only because Doyoungie’s so romantic.”
“Doyoungie is going to walk away.”
“From the person he loves the most in the world? I don’t think so.”
“Ha! Wow, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But you still did, because you love me. And I love you. So we’re stuck with each other.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes again, but wraps an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders to pull him in anyway. They stand next to each other like that, people-watching, as the hour ticks closer to midnight. Doyoung has two dozen grapes in his bag, tucked away for when there’s only 10 minutes left on the clock. The cashier at the grocery store told him to get some for New Year’s, that it was an Italian tradition.
That eating grapes — one for every month of the year — is said to bring luck. Doyoung’s going into the new year with a good feeling about it, but a little bit of luck can’t hurt.
Taeyong wraps his arm around Doyoung’s torso, hand finding purchase on Doyoung’s coat where it rests over his ribs. He holds on tight.
If he thinks about how quickly they’re allowing things to develop between them, it seems so strange. But they’ve been carrying these feelings inside them for so long — and expressing them in so many little ways without ever divulging them fully — that he thinks this might be the only way this makes sense.
When they tell their friends about them, their members, really — Doyoung wonders if they’ll be surprised at their speed, or if they’ll understand it as well as they themselves seem to.
As they watch the fireworks burst into light together, the night is chased away momentarily by their sparks. Doyoung chances a glance at Taeyong and he finds Taeyong ready to meet his gaze, smiling and tender.
It makes something in Doyoung’s heart settle. It’s hard to come by second chances, but he’s able to laugh with Taeyong over themselves even now, and that seems like a miracle within itself.
Still, they eat their grapes and make wishes after each one.
JANUARY 7, 2028
7:23 PM
The next few days pass slowly, like a balm. There’s not much to do in Laurito. Once Taeyong and Doyoung visit the beach, the grocery store, the few coffee shops and restaurants in the town, and the church and town square, all they have left to do is repeat and create a routine.
Every day finds them much the same — Doyoung wakes up first, usually. He’s disciplined and takes his showers every morning. He makes sure to set a coffee pot to brew, and with the ice they’ve bought at the store, they make iced Americanos. Taeyong gets up an hour or two after Doyoung, and will sleepily find his way to their breakfast table just in time for Doyoung to serve their food (or, maybe it’s Doyoung who times plating with the sound of Taeyong’s footsteps). Then, when they’ve each grabbed their coats and jackets, they move to the outdoor table to eat.
They go into town. They make conversation with other visitors, and the town’s residents. Taeyong decides to buy an easel, a couple of canvases and paint. He props up his supplies in their balcony with the better view of the mountains and sea, and he takes up painting.
Doyoung sits beside him as he paints and tears through episodes of dramas that he plays out loud so Taeyong can half-follow their plotlines, too. They laugh together over some scenes, and shout whenever something bad or surprising happens. They make easy conversation, like they always have.
They have conversations about where their relationship is going — but always on the surface-level. They flirt, and are very honest about their feelings when they want to be (which is often), but in the mornings they wake up in separate beds. Neither of them push for more, content to let an easy friendship back into their lives. At least, for now.
Still, they touch hands. Doyoung caresses Taeyong’s shoulder as they cook dinner together, and Taeyong interlaces their fingers in pinky promises over simple things like promising to buy coffee or going down to the beach. They haven’t so much as kissed, though, not past that brief moment on the beach.
Things are slow and patient, so much so that Taeyong almost loses sight of how much this is transforming them both.
And then, after about a week has passed, Doyoung begins humming the songs in the dramas he watches, and a day after that, he’s singing them.
Taeyong keeps his eyes on his canvas — a mix of pinks and purples and blues that make up the colors of the winter sunset reflected over the ocean — and smiles. He doesn’t say anything. He lets Doyoung feel himself out, to explore the way he vocalizes again.
It’s been such a long time since Taeyong last heard him sing. Once or twice, Taeyong told Doyoung that his voice was his favorite. Now, with months of disuse, Doyoung’s voice sounds a little raspy, hesitant. It sounds so good, in its own way.
Then one night, as Doyoung hums under his breath when he serves them dinner, Taeyong presses a steadying hand to the small of his back. He tells him, “I missed your singing.”
Doyoung looks up, meeting Taeyong’s gaze. “Did you?”
“You keep singing in the shower. It’s been a long time since I heard you do that.”
“Yes, well,” Doyoung clears his throat. “I guess I’ve been in the mood.”
They sit together, Doyoung at the head of the table and Taeyong right beside him. Tonight’s meal is carbonara with mushrooms. Doyoung opens a bottle of wine and serves Taeyong first.
Taeyong takes a bite, and hums. “This is really good.”
“Is it?” Doyoung asks. They picked the first recipe they found on Google.
“Mm, lucky find.”
“Maybe I’m just a good cook.”
“I helped!”
Doyoung flicks at Taeyong’s hand, “Yeah, with chopping. I did all the cooking.”
“Oh, ha ha. We both know I’m a better cook anyway.”
“Hm,” Doyoung smiles, and it’s got a smug edge to it. “You are. I don’t let you do the cooking when I’m around though. I like taking care of you.”
“And I like being taken care of,” Taeyong nods, agreeing with a hand on Doyoung’s forearm. Another thing that this past week has helped with is assuaging Taeyong’s nerves when Doyoung flirts a little too overtly. He can even flirt back now, not just blush and sputter like a schoolboy with a crush.
Doyoung presses a hand over Taeyong’s where it rests on his arm, and they continue eating with one hand indisposed each.
Taeyong sometimes feels like they skipped the ‘new couple’ phase and jumped straight into ‘married for years’ phase. There’s no heat that envelops. Everything that they do feels like a slow, steady ember that’s been going for years and years and years, with no signs of stopping.
In some ways, this feels more reassuring than if it were a passionate affair. It feels more like them. At least, Taeyong’s loved Doyoung for so long that it just feels like a part of him now — not something that burns fast and hot.
Sometimes, though, he wonders. I mean, shouldn’t they—?
Taeyong clears the thoughts from his head. Everything will come in its own time.
“Should we try to record something?”
Doyoung lifts his eyes from his plate. “Like a song?”
“Yeah, you said you’d think about it back in Rome. Do you want to try? I’ve got a couple of demos and instrumentals we could play around with.”
Doyoung nods, obviously thinking it over. He sucks his bottom lip in, biting it, and then—
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, let’s try it.”
Taeyong grins. “I’ll show you some of the demos after dinner. You can tell me if any of them resonate with you, and we’ll work it out.”
“I—” Doyoung puts his fork down. “Can it be casual, though? Nothing too polished. I don’t want to feel, well—”
“Pressured?” At that, Doyoung nods. Taeyong understands. “We’re just going to play around with them. It’ll be good for me to practice, too. You know I haven’t done much for myself in a while.”
Doyoung’s eyes change a little at that, peering into him like he’s remembering their last conversation about this and wanting to see if he can find the hidden meaning behind his words. There’s nothing for Doyoung to guess, though, when he can just ask. He doesn’t, instead resorting to making eyes at Taeyong over dinner.
It makes Taeyong want to laugh. Doyoung’s never been good at controlling his expressions. Everything is so neatly laid out for Taeyong to see, it’s a wonder he never even guessed Doyoung's feelings at all.
After washing and putting their dishes away, they move to the living room to sit on the sofa as Taeyong leafs through files on his phone, trying to find songs that he thinks Doyoung might enjoy.
They spend an hour like that, going through demos and pausing to listen to them. Doyoung compliments him on every one, and Taeyong might find that patronizing if he didn’t know Doyoung actually meant it. His eyes say so.
It takes a while to find something that Doyoung settles on, though. It’s not until they’re already 17 demos down the list that Doyoung listens to one that has him humming along to it, a melody already in place where none exists. Taeyong grins when he hears it.
This is it, the reason why making music is so addictive. All it takes is one sound for the floodgates to open, and out comes a song. For Taeyong, it used to be as easy as breathing. He’d churn out hundreds of songs every year. He knows that Doyoung has always been more methodical — melodies coming only when he finds something that really connects with him.
Taeyong immediately takes out the Voice Memo app to record Doyoung’s humming, and when Doyoung catches sight of it, a little smile plays on his lips too, and he begins humming in earnest.
He’s enjoying this. Taeyong is too, for the first time in a long while he feels a little flame lighting him up on the inside, his gut churning excitedly. The promise of inspiration.
They play around with Doyoung’s melody on the demo for an hour after that, Taeyong adding ad libs or holding the melody so Doyoung can add his own. They play the demo and melody until lyrics flow out, and then Taeyong’s scrambling to his suitcase for his notebook and pen — and they’re laughing as they write down words together.
Their socketed feet shake with excitement when Doyoung sings their new song from start to finish, and they smile wide, aspirational. It feels like it used to. It flows, and is not pulled out of either of them.
They wrap up their session with Taeyong’s computer out on the table in front of them. He records Doyoung singing, adds his voice and ad libs to the demo file, and they listen to the song from start to finish twice. There’s a light in Doyoung’s eyes that wasn’t there before. It remains there even when Doyoung shuts Taeyong’s computer and they both collapse back onto the sofa, heaving sighs of happy exhaustion.
When Taeyong chances a look at the clock, it’s well past midnight.
They lost track of time. Taeyong smiles. “We lost track of time.”
Doyoung looks up at the clock. His eyes retain their light, but something in his expression changes.
When Taeyong makes to stand up, Doyoung pulls him in by the waist so he won’t leave. He rests his hands on Taeyong’s hips and his head on his abdomen, and heaves a sigh that sounds more like relief than exhaustion.
“Thank you, Taeyong-ah,” Doyoung breathes. His eyes closed, his thumbs making figures on Taeyong’s hip bones.
Something in Taeyong stirs.
He runs a hand through Doyoung’s hair, the other lifting to cup Doyoung’s cheek. He murmurs, “You keep thanking me.”
Doyoung raises his head, eyes meeting Taeyong’s. They’re a little bleary, and Taeyong knows that he’ll knock out as soon as his head hits the pillow. “You’ve done a lot for me.”
“Not really,” Taeyong quirks his lip upward. He keeps stroking Doyoung’s hair just to see how his eyes flutter. “I just love you.”
Inexplicably, his heart quivers as he says it. They’ve said it so many times already, what’s one more? But the way Doyoung looks at him now gives Taeyong’s words a greater weight. Doyoung looks like he’s memorizing the planes of Taeyong’s face, and maybe even the shape of Taeyong’s mouth when he tells him—
“I love you, too.” Doyoung inhales deeply, leaning forward to press a kiss to Taeyong’s stomach, one that has Taeyong’s gut flaming with a sudden desire. He feels paralyzed. “Maybe I just want to thank you for loving me.”
“Oh,” Taeyong breathes out, like a sigh.
Doyoung runs his hands upward, towards Taeyong’s ribs, before he stands and cups Taeyong’s face. He smiles and looks at him like something precious. “Thank you, Taeyong-ah.”
Taeyong stands unmoving, feeling unmoored and grounded. His feet are firmly planted on the ground but his knees are weak, his head swimming. He can’t remember the last time he felt desire like this.
“Let’s go to bed?”
Taeyong nods, and Doyoung takes his hand, leading him through the house so they can go to sleep in their separate beds. As Taeyong lays with the blankets up to his chin, Doyoung’s quiet breathing accompanying him on the bed beside him, he resolves to make this the last night they go to sleep together, but not.
With a sudden, cleaving clarity, Taeyong thinks about the fire in Doyoung’s voice tonight — and the way he looked at Taeyong. If loving Doyoung the way he has means he’ll keep looking at Taeyong the way he did tonight, then Taeyong will—
Doyoung can’t look at him and expect Taeyong to do nothing about it. And maybe it was a spur of the moment thing for him, but Doyoung never makes the first move, not really. He always lets Taeyong make it first.
Taeyong can’t have doubts when Doyoung looks at him like that, nor when he sings so freely along to songs Taeyong’s made — because he trusts Taeyong with something as vulnerable as singing again, for the first time. He lets Taeyong see that process. He lets Taeyong share in that with him.
No, there’s no doubts to be had.
Taeyong rolls to the side and, closing his eyes, dreams about tomorrow.
JANUARY 8, 2028
9:02 AM
Doyoung woke up ten minutes ago. Of those ten minutes, he’s spent eight of them laying on his side, elbow under his head, gazing at Taeyong as he sleeps beside him.
He can’t see Taeyong’s face under all the covers, but he keeps track of the way his body rises and falls with every breath he takes. If Doyoung holds himself very still, he can even hear his breathing take form — in and out, slow.
The morning sunlight shines through the window curtains — they haven't closed the thick, solid ones once since arriving because Taeyong loves waking up with the sun. Doyoung knows this for a fact.
He stretches in bed before getting up and going to the bathroom for a shower, and once he emerges clean and condensation-warmed, he shuffles over to the kitchen to make breakfast.
He sets the ingredients on the counter: eggs, bacon, oil, salt, and green onions. A spatula, to replace the chopsticks he so usually grabs first. He turns on the gas stove and gets cooking.
Over the past week, he’s become quick at pulling together breakfast. He’s always been a good cook, but he was out of practice for a while. A long while, actually.
The closer he and Taeyong become, the farther away Doyoung feels from his life back home. Like an old memory, he thinks about work — driving every early morning to a shooting location, staying there with coworkers who are strangers, and some who are friends, all day. Returning home only when the rest of the world was asleep. He thinks about how he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in at least a month until he came here; he’d relied on catering and takeout when shooting was on its last legs. He thinks about promotions for the drama, then awards season…
He thinks about Taeyong in his studio. He thinks about returning to separate apartments after sleeping in the same space for two weeks. The occasional lunch with their friends. Doyoung doesn’t know that he can return to Seoul and insert himself back into a life that doesn’t quite fit anymore.
He turns the bacon over, and stares at the grease as it sizzles and pops on the pan. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t hear Taeyong walk in until he’s wrapping his arms around Doyoung’s torso, head laying between his shoulder blades.
“Good morning,” Taeyong mutters, voice still groggy with sleep.
“‘Morning to you,” Doyoung turns his head so he can watch Taeyong nuzzle deeper into Doyoung’s shirt. His heart swells a little.
He was worried last night that he had come on too strong when he’d grabbed Taeyong and pulled him in, just to breathe him in. That was a level of intimacy that they hadn’t breached yet — despite everything.
He’s been slow to seek Taeyong’s touch, because once he starts, he doesn’t think he can stop. He doesn’t want to overwhelm.
With the way Taeyong’s hands press insistently into Doyoung’s stomach, fingers splayed out possessively, he wonders if maybe he was just afraid of being overwhelmed.
Taeyong lets go a moment after, though, moving through the kitchen and grabbing for two plates. He sets them down next to Doyoung with the touch of a hand to his hip, then shifts over to grab some orange juice from the fridge.
He doesn’t even look at Doyoung as he’s doing all this, casual as anything.
Doyoung huffs a laugh at himself.
He plates the bacon and eggs and walks over to Taeyong, nodding over to the balcony. Taeyong grabs their cutlery and glasses full of orange juice in his hands, and they take a seat at the outside dining table.
The sky is cloudy today, full to the brim with rain, it seems like. The clouds move quickly with the help of the wind, but the ones that don’t hang low to the ground look heavy and ready to burst.
“Looks like an indoor day,” Taeyong says around a mouthful of eggs.
Doyoung nods. “What do you want to do today?”
“Well,” Taeyong begins. He looks thoughtful. “Should we watch a movie?”
“Any one you want?”
Taeyong doesn’t even argue that they should choose the movie together. Doyoung’s been subjecting him to his dramas all week.
“Howl’s Moving Castle?”
Doyoung agrees easily. “Tonight? Or should we just do it right now?”
Taeyong smiles. “As soon as we’re done with breakfast.”
“Done.” Then, because he’s feeling cheeky. “Your wish is my command.”
“Don’t say that,” Taeyong laughs, raising a leg to wiggle his foot at Doyoung. Doyoung grabs it to stop him from getting closer to his face. “I’ll take advantage.”
“You already do.”
“More than I already do.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Trust me,” Taeyong’s eyes drop down, quickly, before flitting back up to Doyoung’s face. He grins. “I definitely can.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes. “You can’t take advantage of what I’m giving you.”
“...What about what you’re not giving me?”
“Like what?”
Taeyong bites his lip, his grin growing small. He shakes his head. “Nothing important, really.” He moves to get up. “I’ll wash the dishes. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Hey,” Doyoung reaches for Taeyong’s wrist. “What is it? You feel like I’m holding out on you?”
“No, it’s just—” Taeyong huffs, sitting back down. He takes his wrist out of Doyoung’s hand. “Last night.”
“...What about last night?” But Doyoung thinks he knows what Taeyong’s about to say. He knew he was worried for a reason. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line—”
“No! God, Doyoung-ah. The problem is that you’re not crossing enough lines.”
Doyoung sits there, eyes wide and stunned, and Taeyong takes one look at him and rolls his eyes. He puts his and Doyoung’s plates on the table in front of them and scooches his chair closer to Doyoung, facing him head-on.
“Listen to me. I think we’ve taken things slow enough. I don’t want to pressure you if you don’t want to go any further, but I want to. I want to take things further, if that’s okay with you.”
“I—” Doyoung blinks. His face is hot. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to take it slow.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted, too. That’s why I haven’t said anything. But last night—the way you touched me, I—”
“Oh.”
Taeyong turns his eyes away, staring out at the horizon. Doyoung gazes at the side of his face and takes in the rapid speed of his breath.
He takes Taeyong’s hands where they’re twisting together. “I want to take things further, too.”
“You do?” Taeyong asks, eyes narrowed. “Really? Don’t say it because I want it. I need you to be honest with me.”
“I am! I’m being honest. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”
“You’ve agreed with me about almost everything. I just need to make sure you’re not just agreeing with me on this too.”
“Is it so hard to believe we’re on the same page?”
That seems to hit a nerve in Taeyong, and he deflates, taking his hands away from Doyoung’s but not before he squeezes them once. He shakes his head and it doesn't seem to be in response to what Doyoung’s said, but in response to his own thoughts. He chews on his lip.
“It’s just that we really haven’t been on the same page for most of our lives—not about this, at least.” Taeyong gestures at the space between them, and Doyoung knows what he means. “And I don’t doubt you want me, or you love me, but I just want to know that we’re being completely honest. I know you have been, but…”
“You wonder?”
When Taeyong meets Doyoung’s eyes, the answer is there. Doyoung sighs.
“When we talked in Rome, you asked me what I wanted us to do. We both agreed we wanted to spend more time together, just the two of us. We wanted to take it slow. It’s been almost two weeks — I think maybe we took it as slow as we needed to, and now we both want—”
Taeyong nods slowly. When he says nothing more, Doyoung continues, “It doesn’t mean I’m bending to your every whim, or that I’m trying to appease you without thinking about myself. I want you, I do. Maybe we’re both ready for more now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Doyoung bends down to catch Taeyong’s eyes, laughing as he does. He grabs Taeyong’s hands in his again and presses a kiss to his knuckles with a loud smooch just to make him laugh, too.
“Does that mean I can kiss you now?”
Doyoung’s heart gives a kick in his chest. He sounds more breathless than he hoped to sound when he says, “Yes.”
And when Taeyong grins with that glint in his eye he gets whenever he’s going after something that sounds just right in the recording booth, stepping into Doyoung’s space without letting go of his hands, leaning down so their breaths mingle in the space between their smiling mouths — one more determined, while the other more nervous — and he kisses Doyoung with a gentility that he didn’t know Taeyong could posses, well, Doyoung realizes something—
It’s a slow realization, too. He closes his eyes and a hand comes up to cradle Taeyong’s face, and their lips move against each other’s chastely. A little dry. Taeyong hums into his mouth. When Doyoung hears his noises, his voice, he feels a pleased jolt run down his spine.
Their first kiss.
JANUARY 9, 2028
11:13 AM
They’ve laid in bed for far longer than is appropriate, but this is what he meant by taking advantage.
“Yong-ah,” Doyoung whispers to the crown of Taeyong’s head where he’s got him cradled in his arms. Taeyong groans a mumbling response into Doyoung’s chest, his arms tightening around his waist. “I need to pee.”
He peeks an eye out, turning his face up. “Just five more minutes?”
“We’ve said that for the last two hours.”
Like it doesn’t matter (because it doesn’t…at least for now), Taeyong snuggles further into Doyoung, who is seemingly content to let him rest there for a little longer. He can hold it, surely. Just five more minutes. But then he thinks about being greedy and being nice and the dichotomy between the two, and really, Taeyong is feeling charitable enough for this, so he huffs and disentangles their limbs.
“You can go. I’ll just wait here.”
He’s pouting.
Doyoung laughs in his face about it, but still presses a hard kiss to his forehead for it. That’s before he flicks him, too.
“Ow!” Taeyong exclaims.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Doyoung grins, running off to the bathroom.
Taeyong lets a slow smile overcome his face, flopping down to lay his back on Doyoung’s bed. They fell asleep together last night after spending most of the day just—well, kissing. Watching movies. Pressed close to one another.
Doyoung opens the bathroom door with a bang only to jump back into bed and pull Taeyong into him.
Taeyong is squirming and laughing immediately. He tries to resist Doyoung, pushing him away, but Doyoung is quick to wrestle him into the bed. They lay together, sweaty and flushed and feeling like children, and it’s the most free Taeyong has felt for a long time, so he lifts himself up on his elbow to press a kiss down on Doyoung’s lips.
When Taeyong pulls away, they stare at each other for a quiet moment.
“Taeyong,” Doyoung smiles, eyes focused on Taeyong’s lips. “I want you to be careless with me. Act like I won’t deny you anything. I really won’t.”
“You won’t?” Taeyong grins, pecking Doyoung once, twice, thrice and moving away when Doyoung tries to deepen their kisses. He’s feeling playful enough that his tone is light when he says, “I’m not going to be careless with you, Young-ah. You wouldn’t be careless with me.”
Doyoung looks like he just got hit over the head. He looks at Taeyong like he’s in love.
“I love you.”
“Yeah?” Taeyong leans down for another kiss, running his hand across Doyoung’s chest, his fingers rising in tandem with his breaths and the beating of his heart. “Love me, then.”
Then Doyoung grabs the meat of Taeyong’s thighs to heave him on top of him, and Taeyong forgets what else he was going to say. If he was going to say anything at all — Doyoung’s gaze is heated enough that Taeyong doesn’t think words would be better than their hands, when it comes to communication.
They stay the better part of the day in bed.
JANUARY 11, 2028
6:12 PM
“I think I’ll dye my hair when we get back.”
Doyoung looks up from where he’s making pasta (again). Taeyong is sitting on top of the kitchen counter, legs swinging in the air. He’s looking at Doyoung’s hand where it holds the panhandle, his gaze distracted and intent.
Doyoung brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking the pasta sauce away, just to watch Taeyong’s eyes track his movements. He has to hold back his smile.
“What color do you want to dye it?”
Taeyong shrugs, biting his lips. “Maybe I’ll go back to blonde. I liked it. What do you think?”
“It’s a good color.”
“Okay, but will you like it?” Taeyong whines. He kicks his feet harder against the air. “Do you like it better, blonde or brown?”
“Yong-ah,” Doyoung rolls his eyes. He turns back to his pan and the vodka sauce he’s spent too little time looking at since Taeyong started this conversation. “You’re literally so gorgeous it doesn’t matter what color you dye your hair. You look good no matter what you do. Everyone’s always told you.”
The silence that follows his declaration is loaded. Doyoung doesn’t let himself turn back around before he turns off the gas stove, but once he does, he lets himself look at Taeyong, who—
Is looking at Doyoung with poorly-hidden stars in his eyes. He’s trying his damn hardest to mask them with that smirk on his face, but he still looks like the cat that caught the mouse. Like he caught Doyoung doing something incriminating.
But Doyoung didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. If nothing else, Taeyong’s beauty is the one thing he’s always been honest about. Anyone with eyes could attest to it, so it was safe. Besides, it’s fun to flirt with him. Taeyong is starting to bite back. Doyoung thinks it’s his surety in how much Doyoung wants him. The hickeys Taeyong’s sporting on his collarbone are proof of that.
“You like me so much,” Taeyong coos.
Doyoung rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yeah, yeah. That’s not news to either of us.”
Taeyong’s feet kick the air with a little pep now, obviously happy. He grabs at Doyoung’s shirt and pulls him in, still smiling wide enough to show off all his teeth with abandon. It’s almost like he’s baring them, relishing in what he’s caught.
“Kiss me.”
“I kiss you plenty. You don’t need to ask.”
“I’m not asking, Doyoung-ah.”
Doyoung kisses him meanly, biting on Taeyong’s lip. They break apart with a laugh, pushing at each other and surging forward for another kiss anyway. They eat dinner late because of how much fun they’re having (and because Taeyong pushes and pushes and pushes until Doyoung takes the bait that he so neatly places in front of him).
With his arms around Doyoung’s neck, Taeyong gazes at Doyoung and tells him, “I’ll go blonde then.”
“Good choice.”
“Hm,” Taeyong smiles lopsided. “Doyoung-ah.”
“Hm?”
“You’re gonna be stuck with me if you keep treating me like this.”
“Yongie, I think that’s the plan.”
Taeyong bites Doyoung’s lips for that, so much so that they bleed. He smooths the sting with a soft stroke of his tongue, though. He's noticed that Taeyong’s happy enough not to measure his own strength. There’s something Doyoung loves about that.
JANUARY 13, 2028
11:48 PM
There’s something Taeyong loves about Doyoung when he—
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Can I join?”
“You want to go in with me?”
Doyoung battles with his words. “I do, but. I just want to be close to you right now.”
Taeyong softens. “Come on then.”
Taeyong leads Doyoung to the bathroom by his hand. Doyoung closes the door behind them. They take off their clothes casually and in front of each other because they’ve done this a few times, by now. In this context. In other contexts, they’ve done it more than a few times.
They wait for the water to warm up for them and step into the shower together. Passing each other their own soap bottles, and lathering them on their own bodies. It’s not clinical, but it’s not heated. It’s familiar.
Familiar like the hungry look in Doyoung’s eye that promises not sex but something better. Taeyong knows it as intimately as he knows himself.
He passes Doyoung the shampoo bottle. “Can you wash my hair?”
Doyoung nods, a quiet little thing. He grabs the bottle and squeezes a little dollop into his palm.
Taeyong leans his head back and closes his eyes.
The first touches are slow. The pads of Doyoung’s fingers massaging Taeyong’s scalp like their hair stylists do — Doyoung learned from the best. Rubbing calming circles on the crown of his head before moving to the top, then down to the nape of his neck.
Digging his thumbs a little there, until Taeyong rewards him with a noise pulled straight from his throat.
Doyoung’s hand goes to Taeyong’s neck, caressing there before he turns Taeyong around and guides his head to the water from the showerhead. Letting Taeyong wash the shampoo away while he watches. Their eyes meet when Taeyong is done, and then Taeyong is stepping forward, uncaring of how their naked bodies touch and still so present in his body he can feel every slope of Doyoung against him, and then Taeyong is kissing him.
Doyoung manages to convince Taeyong to get some conditioner in his hair before they continue, but.
That’s as far as he gets with the convincing.
They fall into bed like that — entangled.
JANUARY 14, 2028
2:01 AM
Doyoung pulls back to look at Taeyong for just a moment — and that moment stretches on as he takes note of how sweet he looks like this. Hair soft and sticking to his head with sweat, cheeks flushed red and lips bitten red and neck kissed red. Doyoung smooths a palm over his collarbone, bruised again from Doyoung’s mouth.
His hair still smells so much like Doyoung’s shampoo.
“You know I’ve never been normal about you.”
“Ha,” Taeyong breathes out. He gazes at Doyoung for a moment before tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “Good. Me neither.”
There’s no coming back from this. Finally, without an ounce of regret, Doyoung can admit this to himself.
He confesses it to Taeyong by pressing him back against the pillows, and tasting him with his mouth again.
PRESENT DAY...
JANUARY 16, 2028
5:22 PM
After his call with his mother, Doyoung walks outside to meet Taeyong on the patio, where he’s still blending in the pinks and oranges and yellows and blues of the setting sun. Taeyong looks at him and remembers what he himself told his own mom earlier today — I won’t be back in time for the holiday. Doyoung-ah and I are spending it together. Yeah, just us two.
His mom took it well, all things considered. In light of the fact that she had no idea he and Doyoung were like that or that Doyoung even liked, well. She asked him no questions except for one.
Are you happy?
Yes.
Doyoung molds his body to Taeyong's and breathes him in. He wraps his arms around him, tucking his chin over Taeyong’s bony shoulder, and closes his eyes. The last rays of the winter sun warm them down to their bones.
Taeyong hums at him in response. “Everything went well?”
Doyoung presses his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on the skin before pressing his lips back into the spot and murmuring, “Everything will go well.”
“I think so.” Taeyong tilts his head to the side. Doyoung takes the hint and begins a trail of kisses that go all the way up to Taeyong’s jaw. “What did you tell her?”
“That I was spending the holidays with someone important to me.”
Taeyong inhales, and Doyoung’s hands move with the expansion of his ribs. “Funny, I told my mom the same thing.”
“Wow,” Doyoung takes a moment to suck on the skin right below his ear. Taeyong shivers under him. “What a pair we are.”
“Hmm,” Taeyong grabs Doyoung’s hand in his, squeezing.
“Want me to grab you some tea?”
“Would you?” Taeyong turns bright eyes toward Doyoung.
Doyong nods. “I’ll brew some for you.”
Taeyong smiles. “Okay. Thank you.”
When Doyoung departs with a kiss to his cheek, Taeyong has a change of heart and comes bounding up the steps. He grabs Doyoung’s arm with a laugh.
“On second thought, let me come with you.”
“Don’t trust me with your tea?”
“Mm, no. Just don’t want to be apart.”
Doyoung’s eyes soften. “Okay.” He smiles. “Thank you.”
Taeyong nods, and they walk back inside together — arm-in-arm.