Archive of Our Own

It’s not until the car door shuts behind him that Chanyeol finally lets the exhaustion settle into his bones. The sounds of their fans are still prominent even through the rolled-up window and he lets his eyes fall closed, imagines the yelling as waves against the sand, against a cliff; crashing against the rocks. When he opens his eyes, it takes him a moment to adjust to the darkness around him; the only light coming from his phone, which illuminates every few seconds with a new birthday wish from his friends, family.

He scrubs a hand down his face and clicks to open it. He doesn’t reply right away, they know he’s busy, he’s always busy, but he does read through each one, screenshotting a few to post on his insta later when he’s curled up in bed. He pulls his sweater tighter around himself, to try and emulate the warmth that he’s craving but the fabric is too thin against his skin.

He opens his messages again and clicks on Jongin’s name. He has to scroll for a second, his most recent message from a few hours ago getting buried under well wishes. He types out a quick message, letting him know that’s he on his way home, a too late response to his question from earlier but Chanyeol hadn’t had time to check his phone before the party began, and he wasn’t about to text him back during.

His heart lurches at the thought of him and he glances out the window to distract himself. There was a familiar ache beneath his chest that had started up at the party, when he watched Jongin tell the room that he loved him. He runs a hand over his chest to help elevate the pain there, but it doesn’t do much. He was so careful with those words, so quiet when he did, it was the complete opposite with Chanyeol. Jongin would laugh at a joke and Chanyeol would beam, wrap his legs around Jongin’s waist and press the words into his skin. I love you. I love you.

When the car stops, he throws the door open and opts for the stairs rather than the elevator. He takes them two at a time, barely breaking a sweat, and unlocks the front door.

He’s quiet when he enters, the entire floor still with night and he slips his shoes off before shuffling across the living room. He doesn’t stumble in the dark, he knows this place blind, knows it like the back of his hand.

Junmyeon, Sehun and Jongin’s lights are off as well. Which makes sense, Jongin had yet to respond to Chanyeol’s message and knowing him like he does, like they all do, he most likely fell asleep at the first sign of dark, and it makes Chanyeol’s heart squeeze even tighter.

There’s no way he can sleep alone tonight.

He opts to shower first, wash off the scent and sweat from the day before climbing into Jongin’s bed. Plus, Jongin always tends to cling to him during the night when he does, trying to absorb the heat that buried itself into Chanyeol’s skin.

He tries to be quick at first but the minute his body makes contact with the hot water all the tension bleeds out of his body and he has to press his palms against the tiles to keep from falling over. He washes his hair, then his body, then nothing at all; just stands there under the stream until the steam is so thick in the air, he can barely breath around it.

Everything about the dorm is so quiet, like its own pocket of the universe and from his spot in the middle of the bathroom he can hear a muffled conversation being held on the floor below. It’s impossible to pull the words from each other, just clumps of sound and laughs and it jostles the weight around his heart. For some reason, not one that Chanyeol can name, this moment that he’s blind and partially deaf to feels so rawly intimate. He wants. With every fiber of his being, with every ounce of his soul to have that, now.

He moves quickly back to his room. He’ll grab a pair of sweatpants then move to Jongin’s room, crawl into bed with him and pull him close. It’s been some time since they’ve been able to get some time alone together, but with the reality show all wrapped up and their schedules almost sadly clear for the next little while he’s hoping to make up for lost time.

He pushes his door open and every thought, every semblance of a plan flies out the window. Bathed a yellow light from his lamp Jongin lays curled up on the center of Chanyeol’s bed, still fully dressed. His heart climbs up the back of his throat and he has to swallow thickly around it. He always looks so peaceful, so serene, so so. Chanyeol pulls a pair of sweatpants out of his closet and slides into the bed next to him.

From far away Jongin is beautiful, everyone and anyone can see that. But up close, like Chanyeol is now, with his nose brushing against Jongin’s own, he’s ethereal. He’s every flower that blooms in the spring, he’s every star that burns in the universe, he’s everything that anyone thinks is beautiful, that anyone looks at and thinks this is what reminds me of love.

Chanyeol presses a soft kiss against the tip of his nose, careful not to wake him, but Jongin stirs anyway; he eye’s fluttering open.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol whispers and Jongin’s eyes fall closed again, a small smile on his lips. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jongin doesn’t answer, at least not with words. He shuffles closer, tangles their legs together as he rests his head just beside Chanyeol’s; and it’s then that he notices the puffiness of his eyes. A small noise falls from Chanyeol’s lips and he tilts Jongin’s face back with his hand against his chin.

“Chanyeol,” Jongin whines, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Why were you were crying?” Chanyeol says, and he frowns slightly as he rubs his thumbs across Jongin’s eyelids.

Jongin shakes his head, “I wasn’t.”

Chanyeol leans forward and presses a soft kiss against Jongin’s lips. “Don’t lie.”

Jongin huffs and burrows his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder. On reflex Chanyeol’s own arms move around him, cradling him against his chest. Through the thin fabric of his t-shirt he can feel the steady beat of his heart, and just for a moment, a small instant he’s drawn into a realization that it’s his. Right here, this boy, this being, is his in every sense of the word. He runs his hands down the line of his spine, the muscles across his back.

“It’s embarrassing,” Jongin says into his skin, and Chanyeol laughs softly. He doesn’t prompt him any further though, he lets the air settle around them like a blanket and waits for the words to form on Jongin’s tongue. He sighs, and it tickles Chanyeol’s chest. “It’s nothing bad, I wasn’t sad or anything like that. I was just,” He inhales deeply, and Chanyeol catches the hitch of his breath. “I was just thinking about you.”

Chanyeol’s eyes fall closed and he tries to ignore the pang in his heart. It’s grown heavier since he came into the room, it’s getting harder to ignore.

“Why did that make you cry?”

“Because, you’re you. It all comes so easy for you, to tell me how you feel.” He presses his forehead harder against Chanyeol’s shoulder. “I just—I want to do that for you, I want you to know.” Chanyeol presses a kiss against his hair and rubs circles into his skin. “I tried, with that video, I told you…I said it and I almost couldn’t—”

He tilts his head down and brushes the bangs off Jongin’s forward with his free hand. The sleepiness from earlier is gone from his eyes, replaced with a dampness that threatens to spill out over the edge of his lids. Chanyeol runs his thumbs under his eyes to keep the tears from falling.

There’s a part of him that wants to interject though, stop his brain from reeling, remind him of the time, before they were together where Chanyeol would keep everything bottled up. Hide it away in the dark corners of his mind. The time when it took four bottles of soju before he could let himself feel whatever was boiling under his skin. But Jongin knows, he has to. It was torture for the both of them.

“Hey, hey.” His voice is calm, gentle. “It’s okay, Jongin, listen.” He runs his hands through his hair, scratching his nails against his scalp. “I know, you don’t need to worry, I know that you love me, I know how you feel.” He knocks his forehead against Jongin’s and watches the smile that blooms against his lips. “I don’t need large declarations, I just need you.”

The sound that comes out of Jongin’s mouth is barely even a sound but to Chanyeol its familiar, he recognizes it the moment it falls from his tongue. It’s the sound he makes when the words are too much, when what he’s trying to express is too much.

He doesn’t ask him to try, that would be cruel. He just kisses him instead. Swallows the sound at its root and pulls him close, tries to fuse them together. He can feel Jongin tighten his hold around him, try and place every feeling that takes so long to say into each press of his lips against Chanyeol’s own. There’s nothing heated about this moment, nothing desperate. Just two boys, in love, showing and telling each other in their own respective ways.

Jongin pulls back a moment later, rest his head against Chanyeol’s cheek. “Why do you say it then?” He asks, “When I know that you love me too?”

Chanyeol considers it for a moment. His eyebrows furrow together. “I-I don’t know.”

It strikes him when he says it. He really has no answer, it’s just always been like this. For as long as he can remember, as long as he’s loved he’s always had to say it, it didn’t matter if he also showed it in other ways, it was the words that comforted him.

“I think I just like the way it sounds, I like that there’s words for how I feel about you, I don’t have to search or find some other way, It’s simple.” He smiles down at him, cups Jongin’s face in both of his hands. “It makes me happy when I say it, to just be able to hold you like this and tell you I love you.”

Jongin’s cheek heat up under his palms and he watches with satisfaction as the red of his blush reaches the tips of his ears. He opens his mouth to say something but Chanyeol presses his mouth shut with his thumbs.

“Simple for me though, doesn’t mean simple for you. You show me in other ways, even if you don’t realize it.”

Jongin’s eyes are wide and searching. Tell me. And how could Chanyeol ever to say to no to him?

He rolls Jongin over onto his back and climbs on top of him, straddling his thighs. They’re both too tired to do anything tonight, but Chanyeol doesn’t mind. He just wants to be able to see him.

“I know you love me when you show up at my studio with take-out, knowing that I tend to forget myself when I’m working.” He presses a soft kiss against Jongin’s forehead and he squirms under him. “I know you love me when your face lights up when I come home from a schedule.” He kisses his temple. “and when you ask me how my day was, even if we were together for most of it.” Now his cheek. “I know you love me when you listen to my music and tell me that you’re proud of me.” He grabs his face between his hands again and squishes his cheeks before he bends down to kiss him again. “Especially then.”

Jongin wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him back down. The kiss is soft and slow, their bodies moving languidly against each other as they settle back down on their sides. Chanyeol wants to stay like this forever, with his hands in Jongin’s hair and Jongin’s fingers scratching against the nape of his neck.

When Chanyeol pulls back to breath, Jongin attaches his mouth to his neck. He kisses the skin gently, starting right under his jaw down to his collarbone. I love you. I love you. I love you. He can hear the words even in the silence between them and tears of his own start to well up in his eyes.

“I love you.”

He gasps and drops his gaze to where Jongin is looking up at him. He’s so beautiful, sometimes it hurts Chanyeol to look, even in the dead of night like this, he needs to be careful. The sun is always dangerous.

“I love you, and I might not say it like you do, but I want to try.” He tightens his grip around Chanyeol’s middle. “I’ll keep trying until we’re both grey and old and celebrating your 100th birthday, okay? That’s how long I'm gonna feel this way.”

Chanyeol head spins and he feels his heart both aching and ripping itself apart beneath his ribs. Every word he’s ever learned, every sound he’s ever heard, gets lost on the track from his brain to his tongue and he just stares down at him, let’s a few of the tears fall.

“You’re not supposed to cry.” He pouts and Chanyeol laughs, he pinches the skin of Chanyeol’s neck in retaliation. “Stop, it’s your birthday, don’t cry.”

“I’m done, don’t worry.”

He gathers Jongin up against his chest and pulls the covers over the both of them. It’s futile, Jongin will end up kicking them off during the middle of the night but only after he’s hogged the entirety, leaving Chanyeol freezing in his own bed, but for now he tucks them carefully around Jongin’s already half-asleep frame.

There’s a boy in his bed, a boy that he loves, a boy that he knows, will always love him back. In the morning he’ll probably revert back into himself and tell him with actions, with everything but words, and that’s perfectly fine with Chanyeol.