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Sangwon doesn’t know where Junseo got the alcohol, but at this point, he doesn’t really care.
(Too gone to care is a better description. Sangwon ignores it.)
If he recalls correctly, the older said it was from a friend of a friend of Masato, someone Sangwons never heard of. How they snuck it in when the dorm was littered with cameras, God knows but now it was being shared in a makeshift glass (see: a toothbrush holder) between him and Junseo, the two of them taking turns to sip from separate halves of the glass.
If there hadn’t been air conditioning blasting in the silence, Sangwon could almost convince himself that the flush in his cheeks was from the sticky summer heat, and not the bubbly liquid he was swirling around aimlessly in his hand. He’d never handled his alcohol well — even back in his old company, spending reckless nights in bars and hiding from their manager, exploding into fits of giggles on the dark streets of Seoul without a care in the world.
Now, it was worse. When the boy opposite him seemed entirely unaffected and Sangwon was struggling to keep himself upright.
It was one of the many things Sangwon had learnt about him this week. These new parts that make up ‘Kim Junseo’ plant themselves in his mind, even as Sangwon tries desperately to shake them. Steadying himself with the heel of his left hand against the bed, he looks up at Junseo and observes the way he smiles coyly.
“You’re a lightweight,” Junseo says, matter-of-factly.
Sangwon can only hum in agreement, taking another sip and scrunching his face up bitterly.
Junseo was more well-versed in these things than he was. Not just the drinking. The way he handled himself on stage — Sangwon almost wished he was in the audience and not dancing beside him, able to drink in every detail of his movements and the resonant sound of his voice. Or the way he grabbed Sangwon’s thigh in comfort as they anxiously awaited the results.
Logically, Sangwon knew he would be fine. But there was a deep festering doubt that clawed its way to the surface, only quelled by the press of Junseo’s hand against his skin.
But it was also the way that he comforted Sangwon on the way back to the dorms, dragging him along, hand-in-hand, so he wouldn't end up falling asleep right on the stairs. If Sangwon was anxious about switching roommates, sharing a space with someone he’d spoken to for the first time just last week, he definitely wasn’t now.
(It wasn’t just those things, the way Junseo acted. It was also the way he looked. A head taller than him, rounded face and smile lines Sangwon wants to trace with his fingers. Ridiculously large arms, if Sangwon said so himself, and broad shoulders that barely fit into the shirt the stylists provided for him.)
“I know I am,” Sangwon finally gives an underwhelming reply to Junseo’s question, mumbling.
Junseo laughs, “You’re lucky I covered the cameras. You’d have forgotten about them after the first sip.”
His heart stops for a moment, glancing at the corner of the room. It’s true — Junseo has covered them with a layer of card and some tape stolen from the Planet Diary room. It’s then that Sangwon realises they are truly, utterly alone. For the first time in what feels like forever.
He sets the cup down on the floor, and flings himself onto Junseo’s bed.
“You did well today,” His voice is muffled by Junseo’s pillow, but the older doesn’t seem to care.
“I know,” Sangwon can practically hear the smirk in his voice, before he continues, “But you did too. I wish I could watch it again.”
“The performance?”
Junseo shakes his head, “No. You.”
There’s a flush rising to Sangwon’s cheeks again, and he sits up, hot all over. He’s sticky with sweat after dancing his heart out, too tired to change out of the crop top and leather pants. His fingers are tingling too, and the heat is making its way down the back of his neck until he shivers.
“Oh,” He’s sure his mouth is open like a gaping fish, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“I like sharing a room with you,” Junseo pipes up, once again out of nowhere. He has a little habit, that the younger has only just picked up on, of saying things without reason. Sangwon found he rather liked it.
“I didn’t want to share with you at first,” He admits, filter non-existent now that he’s more than a little tipsy, “But now I’m glad.”
“Really? Why?”
Silence drags out between the two of them, as Sangwon thinks, the whir of airconditioning unit becoming unbearable as the seconds pass by, until:
“I like you, hyung,” Sangwon answers, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
If Junseo was naive, he would’ve taken the words without question. A confession, plain and simple. But he wasn’t foolish. He’d known Sangwon barely long enough to call him a friend, and thought that the younger was only just warming up to him. They got along well during group practices, but Sangwon was shy. Painfully so. Everytime Junseo tried to approach him, it was with meaning. To correct a dance move, or tell him that Yumeki changed practice times. It was never meaningless, like it was now, a conversation with no real purpose and no clear end.
“Do you now?” He teases, prodding for a little more information.
Sangwon places his hands on the top of Junseo’s shoulders, jolting him. He tries to shake the older back and forth, but he’s rooted firmly in place, and Sangwon just pouts, instead opting to lace his fingers together and hang off of Junseo's neck, whining.
“I like that you always give me extra food on my plate,” He starts, “And I like that you’re never mean about me being too quiet sometimes”
“Yumeki’s a little mean about that, isn’t he?”
“More than a little,” Sangwon grumbles, before continuing, “And I also like the way you are on stage. It’s different, hyung. I like it.”
While speaking, he leans further into Junseo’s chest, balance failing as he tilts, clinging to the older for support. Junseo uses the opportunity to grab Sangwon’s chin, tilting his gaze up at him.
“I like things about you too, Sangwonnie.”
He’s not sure where the nickname came from. He’d never called him that before, nor had he heard anyone else use it. But with Sangwon’s overuse of the word hyung, and the way Junseo can feel his breath against his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, it feels perfectly intimate.
“I like that too,” He huffs.
“Look at me,” Junseo says instead of anything else that he’s thinking. Normally, he was good at keeping his composure. But Sangwon, saying things he probably means but would never admit sober, harsh undereye makeup smudged and lips stained red to match the belt that was now somewhere on their bedroom floor, hair tickling Junseo’s chin, was teetering on the edge of too much.
Sangwon lifts his head.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” Sangwon gasps, and Junseo wastes no time.
It’s hot, as Junseo dives into Sangwon’s mouth with more fervour than he’s felt in days. His free hand finds Sangwon’s waist easily, shirt riding up as he lifts his head to kiss Junseo from above, pressing into him like skin-to-skin contact wasn’t nearly enough. His lips are dry, perhaps from the alcohol, or from the nerves. But neither matter to Junseo as he runs his tongue along Sangwon’s bottom lip, stopping to suck on it before his tongue graces the roof of Sangwon’s mouth.
His hands move from hanging around Junseo’s neck to gripping at his nape, tugging at the ends of his hair until he whines shamefully loud into the younger’s mouth. Sangwon presses a thumb into Junseo’s neck, until he can feel the noises he’s making. On instinct, he’d crawled into Junseo’s lap and made himself at home there, Junseo’s hands climbing up his back and brushing against his vertebrae.
“Is this okay?” He mumbles into Sangwon’s mouth, before pulling away and repeating himself as he nips at his jaw.
“More than okay,” Sangwon answers without hesitation, tilting his head and giving Junseo unrestrained access to his neck. The older takes it, greedily, first licking and then sucking lightly at the skin. (If only for a few seconds, because Junseo knows where he is and who he’s with, the risk he’s taking.)
The movement has Sangwon humming in desperation, a noise that turns into more of a whimper as Junseo finishes with his skin and turns his attention back to his lips. It’s surprisingly easy, how they settle into it. Sangwon feels strangely comfortable in Junseo’s lap, even half-hard and flushed all over, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s clutching him. Junseo too, even with the weight of Sangwon pressed against him.
That’s why it’s easy, too, when Sangwon flips him over. Shoving his back into the springy mattress of Junseo’s bed and climbing on top of him again, caging him in with his legs either side of his waist.
He kisses Junseo again, lightly.
“I like you a lot hyung,” He murmurs, pressing his lips to Junseo’s shoulder as he lays there, suddenly weightless, “I know we don’t really know each other. But still.”
“We can get to know each other,” Junseo turns his face to the side as he speaks, Sangwon sitting up on top of him, thighs pressing right on his erection, “If you’d like.”
He’s sure he’s blushing, but it’s worth it when Sangwon says, “I’d like that very much.”
Junseo whines, rocking his hips up a little. It seems as if Sangwon has sobered up a little bit, now more in control than Junseo ever was. He stays planted firmly on the bed, and watches as the older squirms underneath him.
Sangwon leans down, and whispers into his ear, “That starts now, hyung. Firstly, I’ve learnt that you’re needy.”
Shoving an arm over his eyes to cover them, Junseo giggles nervously, shifting underneath the grip of Sangwon’s legs.
“Sangwon…”
His resolve doesn’t break, not just yet. Sangwon moves Junseo’s arm away from his eyes and laces their fingers together, squeezing, before gently caressing down his arm with his free hand. It’s weirdly gentle, even as Junseo writhes impatiently beneath him.
“Sangwonnie…” He repeats.
Finally, that seems to do it, and Sangwon returns his movements by circling his hips and rubbing himself against Junseo. It’s underwhelming, but it’s something.
“Tell me something you’ve learnt about me,” He teases, “And I’ll give you more.”
“I’ve learnt,” Junseo huffs, breathing heavily, “That you’re mean.”
“No I’m not,” Sangwon replies, as his hands dip below Junseo’s waistband. It’s effortless, the older having long since loosened the belt for comfort. Two fingers dig into his briefs, stretching the elastic before letting it recoil against his skin.
Then, as quickly as it came, Sangwon takes his hand out. Instead, it settles on the outside of his pants and palms at Junseo’s bulge that’s straining through the fabric. It’s not nearly as good as Sangwon’s bare palm, but Junseo will take it. His hips move up against the younger’s hand, thrusts slowly growing desperate.
“See?” Sangwon says, as if he’s proven a point.
“Not mean,” Junseo moans, “Just annoying.”
The hand moves to Junseo’s thigh, to hold him in place. It’s a little familiar, like the two of them earlier, except now Junseo’s pliant beneath Sangwon, instead of the other way round.
“Can you—”
Sangwon’s finger moves over his lips. He’s crawled fully on top of Junseo now, and lowers himself until there's that delicious friction again, hips moving more frantically now. Clearly, he’s plagued by his own arousal. It doesn’t matter, though. Not when Junseo can now lean up and kiss Sangwon deeply again, watching as he flushes from exertion as he grinds against him.
“Patience.” Sangwon tries to say, but it comes out as more of a gasp.
“Says you,” Junseo bites back, but he’s just as desperate. His hands tangle in Sangwon’s hair, and he pulls him down for another biting kiss. There’s probably saliva dripping down his chin, it’s so messy, but Junseo doesn’t care. Not when he’s this close, everything else secondary as he chases his orgasm.
When Sangwon whines into his mouth, high-pitched and utterly deranged, he’s gone.
Junseo comes hard. He supposes it’s all the pent up energy, the stress and lack of privacy for weeks on end. Still, he pushes himself against Sangwon as he does, shuddering with relief. Sangwon isn’t far behind him, hips stuttering before his movement stops and he collapses against Junseo’s chest, exhausted.
In his post-orgasm haze, Junseo finds it hard not to care. If anything, he’s more affectionate now that Sangwon’s laid himself bare. Sure, his shirt is still on, but Junseo’s seen parts of him that nobody else here was privy too. Maybe it’s wrong, the way he gleams with pride. But when Sangwon nuzzles his head against his neck, he can’t bring himself to care.
Sangwon chose him.
So he strokes his hair gently, instead of tugging at it, and lets the boy crush him gently until he’s calm enough to talk.
“Good?” Junseo asks, tentatively.
The younger can only hum, the sound making its way to Junseo’s heart from where it vibrates in his sternum, Sangwon’s mouth pressed against it.
“We need to shower,” He tries again to pry a response out of the boy, but to no avail.
“Tomorrow,” Sangwon whispers, pushing himself further into Junseo’s chest. He rolls over into his side, finally, back pressed against the wall and the older takes a deep breath.
“We have to get up early,” Junseo reasons, “But if you don’t mind, we can stay.”
It’s gross, he knows that. His own underwear is wet and sticky, and he can see it in Sangwon too, the way there's now a wet patch on the front of the trousers that definitely do not belong to him. But his limbs too feel heavy, and the idea of moving feels akin to climbing a mountain.
“Don’t mind…” Sangwon’s voice is quiet, and Junseo can feel him drifting off to sleep. He has to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of everything. That they’re still drunk and stupid even on a show that’s designed for neither of those things to be able to happen. That Sangwon's about to fall asleep, less than ten minutes after his orgasm. Or that they got each other off in the same clothes they wore on stage for all of the fans to see.
(If Junseo thinks about that too much, he’ll get horny again. So he shakes the thought from his mind instead.)
Instead of answering him, Junseo simply strokes Sangwon’s hair again, massaging his scalp gently. Sangwon has thrown an arm over his waist, locking him in if he wasn’t already before. His face is pressed into Junseo’s chest comfortably, and his eyes flutter closed.
“Thanks, hyung.”
In the now-quiet dorm room, the warmth and words feel like a promise.
(When Junseo has to undress Sangwon the next morning, much to his embarrassment, he peppers him in kisses as an apology and hand-washes their clothes in the sink before anyone has a chance to question the stains they’d left behind. They sit together at breakfast, and when Sangwon laces their fingers together under the table, Junseo feels warm once again.)