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An unfortunate truth: Donghyun is in love with Dongmin.
He didn’t intend for it to happen—it’s Dongmin who approached him first when he needed directions to their university’s music department—but once it did, it was a tidal wave, enormous, unforgiving, crashing hard and fast on the shore and swallowing everything in its wake. Even in their rocky beginning, when Donghyun was struggling to adjust to Dongmin’s assertiveness, he had begun falling with ease, only becoming aware of what occurred after he hit the floor.
In love’s true irrational fashion, Donghyun can’t pinpoint the cause. He walks Dongmin to class while explaining why Camus is better than Sartre and can’t pinpoint it; he spends hours with Dongmin in the library flipping through books instead of working on their assigned papers and can’t pinpoint it; he talks with Dongmin on the phone without realizing how long it’s been until birds sing outside of his window and his roommate tells him to stop laughing so much, and he can almost pinpoint it when Dongmin offers him a shrill, “Goodnight, Donghyun! Or good morning.”, but he doesn’t let that linger in his mind, never, not even if his life depended on it, and he ultimately decides he can’t pinpoint the cause then, either.
It’s pathetic, really.
His wishes shouldn’t even come to fruition.
On paper, they would make for a disastrous couple (and Donghyun knows this, always refers to this in his attempts to slow his racing heart whenever their hands brush against each other’s). Their communication is rough at the edges, unraveled thread poking through every misunderstood joke and misinterpreted action, Donghyun operating on feelings and Dongmin operating on patterns, both dancing in unsure circles around each other, a tedious waltz neither knows how to retreat from. Donghyun can’t tell where he stands with Dongmin and Dongmin probably doesn’t even think about it—even their friendship is nonsensical, adding further humiliation to Donghyun’s misplaced pining.
But there isn’t any logic to Donghyun’s heart or mind.
There isn’t even logic in his decision to currently remain in Dongmin’s dorm.
The pair are in their own worlds—Donghyun is situated on Dongmin’s bed with his nose buried in Kafka while Dongmin fiddles with the stereo across the room—but the atmosphere around them is tangible, heavy with uncertainty, Donghyun believing his presence is becoming increasingly bothersome with each passing second. The window is halfway opened, allowing the late spring heat to creep in and cause sweat to bed on the boys’ skin; Donghyun tucks his hair behind his ears to keep it from sticking to his damp forehead.
Dongmin’s voice is almost too soft to hear: “What are you in the mood for?”
“Hm?”
“This is probably disturbing your reading, isn’t it?”
It’s a reference to the outdated alternative rock playing through the stereo.
Donghyun tears his eyes away from his book, looks over at Dongmin who’s now combing his fingers through a crate that holds his impressive collection of vinyl records. His hair is brushed back from his forehead, flyaway strands framing his face and catching the sunlight, his brows twisted in concentration and his jaw tensing as it keeps his blunt from falling from the corner of his mouth, his foot tapping gently to the music’s rhythm and adding to the charm Donghyun doesn’t realize he’s sinking into until Dongmin clears his throat.
He looks away, tells the truth. “It’s not.”
“Are you sure? I think I have something in here that you’ll like.”
The music is the least of Donghyun’s concerns (in fact, his thoughts are swirling into a hoard that’s leaving him suspended between the indecision to either stay in the room or finally leave), but he can tell Dongmin is determined to cater to him somehow, evidenced by the way he picks up and examines every other record before setting them down with a shake of his head, puffs of smoke escaping him, so he plays along.
“Fine. Impress me.”
Dongmin lights up with excitement at that. He passes over a few more records before finally fetching one and motioning for Donghyun to join him, which Donghyun does, placing his book page down on the bed and keeping his footsteps light against the hardwood floor.
“I was looking through the clearance shelves and managed to find this,” Dongmin explains once he’s near, flashing the cover for him to see.
“What, Carpenters?”
“Yeah.”
Donghyun is unimpressed. Carpenters is a band Dongmin speaks about often—he has plenty of their records.
“What’s special about it?”
“Well, I don’t really listen to this album often,” Dongmin explains, now beginning the process of switching the records in the stereo. “So I gave it a spin as soon as I got home and immediately thought of you, specifically this song.”
He thought of Donghyun.
Only because it was relevant. Donghyun knows he’s not on Dongmin’s mind like Dongmin is on his.
Somber folk music accompanied by a gentle female voice ensues after Dongmin drops the needle. It’s sweet, slow-paced, understated, a romantic lullaby that Donghyun finds himself being immediately hooked to. He notices that Dongmin is leaning against the bookshelf that houses the stereo, arms crossed and seemingly waiting for a reaction; Donghyun takes a moment to take in the lyrics as he begins moving his head to the violins.
Why do stars falls down from the sky
Every time you walk by?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you…
The lyrics are a coincidence, Donghyun knows that.
It adds insult to injury.
Still, the music itself is nice, so he musters a smile. “You know me so well.”
It’s the truth: despite their differences, Dongmin knows how to read him well enough to know what he would and wouldn’t like, even when Donghyun isn’t sure of it himself.
Dongmin takes a pull from his blunt, exhales the smoke away from Donghyun’s face. “I do, don’t I?”
Silence surrounds them again—it’s Dongmin’s turn to sit on the bed while Donghyun decides to focus on the crate—while the song continues to play, a minute of lyrics about admiration and longing passing before Donghyun speaks up in order to drown out his lovesickness.
“You have so many genres in your collection,” he points out. “First Aphex Twin, then Turnstile, and now this.”
He doesn’t know what he expects Dongmin to say to that (nothing, possibly), but it’s not what he actually says after a handful of seconds that proves he isn’t buying the diversion.
“What are you thinking about?”
Too much, like why this song, and why these lyrics, and why he thought of him instead of the dozens of boys and girls who drape themselves over him daily.
“It’s just—” Donghyun starts, then he stops, crossing his arms and turning around to face Dongmin. He leans against the shelf to give an air of nonchalance, but he refuses to look at Dongmin, because Dongmin is eyeing him intently as he takes another pull, gaze piercing and difficult for Donghyun to digest without his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little shocked you didn’t ask Jaehyun to do this with you.”
“Jaehyun?”
“Yeah. You two seem pretty close.”
Dongmin hums in thought, now looking out of the window. “You know, I thought about it,” he says. “But I’d rather spend time like this with you than him.”
Donghyun at least knows what ‘this’ means: lounging around and essentially doing nothing while enjoying each other’s presence. It’s an activity with a level of intimacy reserved for good friends, which prompts images of Jaehyun to flash in his mind, images of their smooth communication and their seamless hangouts that he sometimes catches when he passes them by on campus, images that are a stark contrast to the ones painted by the details of their own friendship, his soft personality paling in comparison to Jaehyun’s extravagant one that makes Dongmin laugh so often.
That’s a good friend—not Donghyun.
On the day that you were born
The angels got together
And decided to create a dream come true…
“Here,” comes Dongmin’s next words. “Come sit with me.”
Donghyun complies. He’s careful to leave a gap between them when he sits on the mattress, his book now forgotten somewhere in the cluster of the duvet; Dongmin takes it upon himself to close it, repositioning himself so he’s fully facing Donghyun.
Without warning, a hand is on Donghyun’s. The touch is delicate yet firm, Dongmin taking it into his own, palms brushing against one another until he moves onto messing with Donghyun’s fingers, examining them as though he’s taking a map of his geography, stroking and squeezing the fingertips and knuckles which creates a frenzy that blooms in Donghyun’s hand and spreads throughout his body, his stomach weak, his head dizzy, his breathing stilted.
A confession: “You’re a bad liar, you know? What were you really thinking about?”
It’s times like this where Donghyun hates Dongmin’s understanding of him. It makes it harder to pretend he isn’t constantly stunned by his beauty, by his humor, by his wit, by his very being, and he isn’t constantly thinking of how it would feel to kiss him, to hold him, to call him his own, and he isn’t constantly trying to prevent his feelings from growing with each second that passes. The truth always wiggles its way through, and Dongmin is always quick to catch it, and Donghyun mentally berates himself for being in this position in the first place, so vulnerable and awestruck that he can’t even think.
“That’s what I was thinking about,” Donghyun insists, watching Dongmin toy with him. “That and class.”
He knows Dongmin can feel the way he’s trembling, evidenced by the smirk that appears and threatens to loosen the hold his lips still have on the blunt as he rubs a soothing circle into the back of Donghyun’s hand with his thumb. It’s painful to be handled tenderly like this, confusing even, and the outside heat mixes with Donghyun’s rising body temperature, more beads of sweat forming on his body.
“You’re funny.”
“Funny?”
“Yeah. Funny.”
“How?”
“You’re so tense for God knows why. It’s cute.”
Right.
Donghyun can feel him staring him down, using his free hand to run it through his hair, puffs of smoke leaving him in intervals, and only when the clouds brush against his nose does Donghyun dare to look at him. Dongmin’s high is obvious now—pink half-lidded eyes and a faint blush adorning his cheeks—and even though Donghyun has seen him this way several times, it’s somehow different now, the expression a mixture of smug and knowing, as though he’s plotting something.
“What—”
“Here,” Dongmin interrupts. “Lean forward for me.”
Donghyun, always so compliant, obeys, tentatively leaning in and watching Dongmin follow suit. His emotions are swimming in the pit of his stomach now, and he's almost tempted to opt out of whatever Dongmin has planned, but there's a glint of eagerness in his eyes, almost like he wants whatever is about to happen, and that makes Donghyun choose to remain, wanting to return the favor of catering.
They're close enough to have the tips of their noses graze against each other's, to feel their breaths on each other’s skin; Dongmin’s eyes flicker to Donghyun’s lips.
Hushed. “I'm gonna get you high, okay?”
“Okay,” Donghyun answers, equally hushed, more out of a desire to be adventurous and spontaneous like Jaehyun than to be under the influence.
“Open your mouth.”
Donghyun parts his lips; Dongmin takes a sufficient drag from his blunt.
That is why all the girls in town
Follow you all around
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you…
Donghyun expects Dongmin to simply give him the blunt; Dongmin leans forward until their lips are ghosting each other’s, and, after removing the apparatus, creates a white cloud that wreaths around them as he exhales into Donghyun’s mouth.
Donghyun is too stunned by Dongmin’s proximity to process the action.
The cloud dissipates into nothing.
Dongmin pulls away with a chuckle. “You have to actually inhale it.”
“You didn't give me a warning,” is Donghyun’s defense, though he knows that wouldn't have helped anyway.
“Fair enough. I'll give you one this time.”
Donghyun’s heart is already beating a mile per second—a second time might send him into cardiac arrest.
Dongmin speaks again when Donghyun doesn't respond. “If you're embarrassed, don't be. Everyone's clumsy on their first try.”
Right.
The song has changed to something equally romantic and saccharine, and Donghyun sighs, opens his mouth in the same manner, parting his lips just enough for Dongmin to meet him after he takes another drag and tosses the blunt-now-turned-stub somewhere across the room. He holds his breath while his hands cup either side of Donghyun’s face, pulling him even closer, their noses pressing together, and blows directly into Donghyun’s mouth.
Donghyun remembers this time: he inhales as much as his lungs allow him to. He holds back his urge to cough, letting the smoke leave him in a small stream instead of a billow, the sedating effect already hitting him and causing him to shamelessly melt into the way Dongmin slides his hand down to cup his jaw with a gravelly, “Perfect.”
The foreign warmth is relaxing; for a moment he forgets about Dongmin and Carpenters and the song with yearning lyrics and the fact that Dongmin wanted to spend time with him instead of Jaehyun and the fact that they're missing the philosophy lecture on Deleuze that he was admittedly anticipating—Donghyun feels good. It's hypnotic, entrancing, unlike anything he’s felt before, and it momentarily blocks his senses as much as it heightens them.
He doesn’t register that Dongmin’s hands are still on him.
And he doesn’t register that he hasn’t pulled away yet.
And he doesn’t register that Dongmin is blatantly admiring his mouth as if in a daze.
And he doesn’t register that Dongmin is wiping something from the corner of his mouth with a thumb.
“How do you feel?” he asks, low. “Okay?”
Donghyun doesn’t know why that makes him laugh. “More than okay.”
Only a fool would want to leave the paradise
That I find whenever you’re around
Only a fool
Only a fool…
He wants to hear Dongmin praise him again, tell him he’s cute again and call him perfect again and brush his lips against his own again, but he knows he should put an end to this rendezvous before it grows into something bigger, because the high is beginning to swirl in his head now, and his heartache has a newfound intensity now, and the lyrics are even worse now, almost serenading Donghyun's exact feelings, exposing the paradise he feels around Dongmin, exposing his knowledge that he’s going to be a fool when he makes an excuse to leave this dorm room before he gets carried away.
“Hey, listen, maybe we should—”
Dongmin presses their lips together; Donghyun, though shocked, doesn’t fight it.
Instead he crumbles, already relishing in the fleshy taste of Dongmin’s lips. Dongmin mouths at him and Donghyun mouths back; Dongmin sighs and Donghyun whimpers; Dongmin deepens the kiss and Donghyun reciprocates; Dongmin pulls away briefly to teasingly lick Donghyun’s lips and Donghyun shivers with anticipation, already missing his warmth, springing back into action when Dongmin begins kissing him again with a hand on the back of his neck, soft, slow, gentle, but hungry, eager, entranced, as if he’s a weary traveler and Donghyun is the vista.
The two stay that way for a considerable amount of time: there’s only music and the sounds of distant traffic from the window and the soft sighs of two men who are entirely lost in one another, their mouths dancing in unison.
Dongmin is kissing him. Funny, talented, and intelligent Dongmin is kissing him, the same Dongmin Donghyun knew he wanted the first moment that laid eyes on each other, the same Dongmin Donghyun can never maintain his composure around, the same Dongmin Donghyun dreams of every night.
Dongmin is kissing him.
Donghyun is the one who pulls away. He shakes and struggles to catch his breath, eyes widening in disbelief as he realizes what he's just done, and he presses his fingers to his lips as if touching the evidence will somehow obscure and erase it.
He’s gone too far and put another weight on an already strained connection.
“Dongmin…” he croaks. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I—”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because we just kissed…?”
“Yeah, but I initiated it. Should I not have done that?”
Donghyun doesn't know how to answer that.
Isn't it nice to talk about the special way
That you smile whenever I'm around?
“I kissed you because I wanted to,” Dongmin confesses, the hand that's on Donghyun’s neck now timidly massaging circles into the skin. “I should've asked, but it seems like you enjoyed it.”
Seven words shaped into an arrow that pierces Donghyun directly in the chest.
Dongmin wanted to kiss him.
Right.
“You wanted to—Dongmin, you're high. You probably want to kiss everyone when you're high.”
Dongmin shakes his head, adamant. “I want to kiss you when I'm sober, too.”
In defense of his heart that's aching so badly it might split into two, “What are you saying?”
Immediate. “Isn't it obvious? Do I need to play the song again?”
The song.
Donghyun, somehow desperate for contact, takes Dongmin’s hand off of his neck and mimics his earlier action of messing with his fingers, pressing into the calluses like one would a rosary. “You mean the song you said made you think of me?”
Dongmin scoffs. “Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?”
This—Dongmin’s quickness to annoyance—Donghyun thinks, is proof of what an ill-fitted couple they'd make; he shouldn't press, he shouldn't pry, he should leave.
Donghyun is steadfast. “I guess I am.”
The truth: after vinyl shopping with Jaehyun, the two went back to Dongmin’s dorm to listen to what they bought, and the song’s dreamy nature had roused a discussion of longing. Jaehyun couldn't imagine feeling so strongly about someone like the lyrics suggested, and he urged Dongmin to imagine feeling that way, at which Dongmin realized he didn't need to, because he already felt that way about Donghyun, already felt that stars fell in his presence, their light incapable of competing with his.
“What I'm saying is,” Dongmin finalizes. “You're a dream. My dream. Sometimes you smile or go on your long-winded rants about some fish I've never heard of and I really think the angels were kind enough to make you just for me.”
Walks along the waves of velveteen
His only thought was love for me
Love for me…
Dongmin squeezes his eyes shut, removes his hand from Donghyun and presses his temples. “Shit, I'm sorry, like, I'm actually so sorry. I'm not thinking straight and you just look beautiful right now and—”
“You don't think I'm annoying?”
Dongmin’s pained expression morphs into one of confusion. “Why would I think that?”
Donghyun shrugs, wildly, because he isn't thinking straight either, more focused on not letting his budding tears spill than anything else. It’s a blessing to have his feelings requited; it's a curse to have a mind that second-guesses everything, doubts clouding his mind, assuming Dongmin is only saying these things because the mood is right and the setting is right and the intimacy is right and it would be wrong to not do something with it.
“Because I'm…not like you…”
The corners of Dongmin’s mouth threaten to curve upward.
“Opposites attract, you know. Like yeah, you're a little weird, but I like that. I like you.”
Then, as if sensing Donghyun’s apprehension, he reaches out to hook a finger underneath his chin, raising his head until they're making eye contact once again, Dongmin’s sure, Donghyun’s panicked.
“I like you, Donghyun. I'm as sure of it as the sun is sure to rise every morning.”
Donghyun swallows from the intensity. The room is spinning now; he presses his forehead into Dongmin’s to ground himself.
“Then kiss me again. Kiss me until I believe it.”
And Dongmin does just that, not wasting time with connecting himself to Donghyun again, slightly rougher this time, snaking his tongue in his mouth and holding the sides of his face as if he might slip away if he doesn't remain tethered to him somehow, and Donghyun’s stomach flips, and his heart hammers, and his mind quiets, because he knows now that the angels made them opposites to complete each other.