Archive of Our Own

With his lips still burning, Ten only can think of how peculiar it actually is that mere three seconds can change a greater part of your life. It's not that he feels like a new person now, or that his life will suffer from any drastic shifts from now on, but at the same time he can sense that even the air around him somehow feels different now. Probably it's only self-suggestion, but he can't escape the knots in his stomach becoming unleashed, the ends of imaginary ropes and threads that have become released tickling, as he stares at a tablet in his hands vacantly, a notebook with a sketch lying in his lap. There is some multipart declaration in Thai that he needs to complete, but writing a document he doesn't really care about, and at the same time trying to remember how exactly tones are marked in text have a serious conflict with his thoughts of those three seconds that happened not more than three hours ago, so all he can do is spin his pen and look at his own handwriting of a week before as if a completely different person wrote the text—but nothing really has changed, right?

He sighs and puts his earphones on so that he won't have to listen to chitchat of two women behind him, his native tongue suddenly distracting. There is a scent of oranges in the air, and for quite a while now he couldn't put a finger on what had caused that, but as he lets the sounds of music flush around him, there is also realisation that surrounds him, its hands playfully caressing his shoulders like a player would do to a piano, and that sensation makes him shudder.
He can't help pronouncing a quiet 'Ah,' covering his lips with the back of his hand and smiling, almost chuckling. 'Oranges, right,' he whispers soundlessly, and the untied knots inside him are set on fire, giving an entirely new —or is it really new?— kind of warmth, and he finds it a bit hard to breathe.

Having travelled quite a lot, Ten could say he got used to leaving the places that grew on him, but that wouldn't be true in this case, when half an hour before midnight he stands in the dorm hall, his bag on his shoulder, and Johnny standing in front of him, unnaturally sad. They don't say anything—more than that, they can't—for a long minute, for both can't find any adequate words. What Taeil has said about them, 'like a house on fire,' could also indirectly apply to what happened to their ability to formulate any proper sentences, which to be honest just seared, its ashes blown by the laughter of the two. There is as if no need in words most of the time—however, sometimes things have to be said.

'It,' Johnny starts quietly, rubbing his neck awkwardly, 'it won't be a long time, will it?'

Ten can't help replying with a chagrined smile, 'Dad hates red tape so I hope the entire stuff won't take long, I honestly have no idea why they even need me there so much. But, um. Parents would also like to spend some time after that with me,' and he adds quickly, noticing how the corners of Johnny's lips tremble, 'but I'll come here long before the end of the month, unless they shut the borders. Which they won't, so… No. It won't be a long time,' he can't say he believes his own words, and here he and Johnny have something in common. They want to believe time will pass quickly but it's just impossible for both of them even if it's less than a month.

'Right,' Youngho musters a weak grin.

'Where has all my strength suddenly gone?' he ponders, and it only makes him ask himself more and more questions, like there was a chest with loads of cards with questions and now he opened the drawer awkwardly, and all the cards are spread on the floor, and he sees each and every of them simultaneously, the phrases filling up his mind.
'Why is it suddenly so hard to just say goodbye and return to routine, what has changed in this time—what, a year?—that my lungs feel bound by a thin string so tightly it hurts?'
He asks himself, 'how have I ended up like this, about to shed shameful tears just because he leaves? Why are emotions in charge all of a sudden?
'Ah, I have known it for a while now,' he answers instantly, as if filling in all the question cards at the same time with one strike of a pen, it's just that I didn't realise.
'And at some point in this year, or maybe less, well, probably less, probably very recently, or maybe even just now, I finally have.'

There's a mixture of feelings inside him; boiling and stirring, they finally now have a form he at least understands; but he still doesn't quite know what to do with them.
He reaches out, embracing Chittaphon cautiously, as if afraid, not to break him but that he will pull away (which he anyway has never done before, enjoying tactile contact quite as much as Johnny). He then finds enough power to finally inhale deeply, unlike the shallow breaths he has been taking the last few hours, scared of moving, of talking, of existing even, wanting time to stop and wishing such pauses in his physical life would do it. He'd been under the weather for an entire day, Ten said while packing his bag.
Now he sees it has been useless, and decides that at least the last minutes he won't waste on hiding in an emotional corner. As if he has anything to lose, anyway.

'I'll miss you,' when uttered, the words obtain a slightly different meaning than the fact that is obvious for both of the boys that they are going to miss each other; the words gain weight, become more than a goodbye, become a confession of a kind.

'Why am I so afraid suddenly,' Johnny thinks as he lets his fingers brush Ten's hair on the back of his head gently, almost not touching, and looks down at him in the faint light of a wall lamp, 'of losing you? Even for a short time, I still feel like I'm having my hand cut off. Jeez, this is so stupid, why can't I just calm down…'
'Why do you have to go now?' the last phrase he actually pronounces, half unwillingly, making Ten pull away and stare Johnny in the eye.

'Johnny…'

'Ah. I'm so sentimental today,' he forces a laugh but Ten's look shows Youngho he can be read easily, so the latter looks away. Still, he doesn't abandon hope to successfully pretend that he's fine, that nothing is wrong, that he hasn't let anyone down, that he doesn't want to touch Ten's chin, not letting him move, and make him hold the gaze for a lifetime.
'Since when have I been that sentimental anyway? Does ambiguity really scare me that much? Jesus Christ.'

'Johnny, what's wrong?' Chittaphon cups Johnny's face with his hands, trying to make the older look at him. He succeeds easily, for the other has no strength or will to resist, and after that he notices the slightest shifts suddenly; how Johnny's lips part mere half of a millimetre, how his pupils dilate, how an inhale comes with a short lag; how he leans into touch instinctively.

'Everything's fine,' Youngho wants to reply, but he feels like he can't lie physically, as if his body or his entire nature is against saying anything untruthful to the particular boy hugging whom he is busy with. 'I… don't know really,' is another idea that flashes through his mind, but it is also a lie; he does know.
So instead of a verbal answer he bends a bit, his right hand pulling on Ten's bag's strap. He doesn't give Chittaphon a chance to understand what exactly is happening; taking risks doesn't let one waste any time on precautions; he places a kiss on Ten's lips; his heart skips a bit and lungs refuse to widen. He grips hard on the bag strap when Ten lowers his hands. Of moving back Johnny then is afraid, so he just stays that way after breaking a kiss, his lips brushing lightly against the younger's; his eyelids halfway open, he can see the other's eyelashes shuddering a trifle.

Youngho gives himself three seconds of contact that he spends on a few things simultaneously. Namely, allowing the smell of Ten's cologne soak into his skin, feeling shallow frequent breath ticking his lips, sensing the taste of a recently eaten toffee that was carried to his lips by a kiss, memorising what it feels like to have Chittaphon so close in case that would never occur again. However, as the boy is still here, still so close, not doing anything but breathing,
maybe he wasn't wrong after all.

Ten tries to shake off the image of Johnny in the dim light of the room with his eyes so sad it almost hurt to see him in such a state; for the memory brings a hardly bearable degree of dismay, making Ten bite on the tip of his pen. He lifts the plastic curtain and looks out of the window, trying distracting from this reality and hoping the sight of the clouds will calm him down and wash the other thoughts away as it always did when he was a child—but it doesn't, and he's left staring at the yellow morning sky with music in his headphones, and his pen between his teeth.

'It sucks so much to be a teenager.'

He can remember how his mind ceased to work when Youngho bent his head down and their lips met for a second; how he desperately tried to process what on god's forgiven green earth was going on but all he could think of was,
'don't move don't leave I don't want to go I want to stay like this,'
and of how irrationally natural these thoughts felt for him.
He wasn't able to say anything when Johnny pulled away and left the hall silently; he wasn't even able to open his eyes, he just stood there, with his hands feeling cold without touching his hyung's face, and with a pricking sensation in his fingertips.

'So it wasn't just me. At least that's a relief, I wasn't one hundred percent sure,' he laughs in the spirit. For there has been a chance of hurting Youngho with a… certain attitude, and giving him pain wasn't really in the list of Ten's plans for the nearest future to say the least.
There has been quite a long time of close physical contact between them; it felt so essential both didn't notice—until this exact night probably, with Johnny making a (how cliché, Ten wants to roll his eyes at the thought) first step and Ten understanding that that was actually what he had also wanted but simply never really thought about it.
'So here we are now.'
And who cares what you call kissing in the middle of the night in the dorm where your fellows sleep at the moment? Ten doesn't really. He also doesn't feel any shame—which would apparently be a more appropriate reaction to accepting a kiss from a guy you call your hyung and whom you probably can call your best friend—why should he even be ashamed anyway?

He wants to take out his mobile, to wake Youngho up, texting him some ridiculous bollocks—but he has to wait a few hours more, stiff in his aeroplane seat, loathe to write an application or whatever, and drowning in memories.
'Like, we were always close. You can't help a guy practise a language and not pal up with him. Though I've never thought of—' he shrugs, making the thought leave his mind, and concentrates on Thai. He and his thoughts can wait until landing, at least.

What Johnny wants to do is to lie down on his bed and pass out and not think—but he does exactly the last thing, sitting on a chair in the kitchen, with a cup of water in his hands, fingers sticking out of his pyjama sleeves.

'What the fuck Youngho. Have you lost your mind by nineteen or what. Why don't you just go and sleep while you have time.'

All the phrases do not sound like questions in his mind; it's more of a self-tell-off, and after fifteen minutes of it he is tired of himself. That much pondering on one and the same thing is exhausting for him, and he tries his best to stop doing so—but it seems to him he'll just fail over and over again.

He for a second looks at his hands that hold the cup and sighs a deep, deep sigh.
'So what justification do you have to the fact that kissing him was like one of the best things in your damn life?' he then shakes his head fiercely. 'Jesus you have five hours of practice tomorrow stop being a banal pansy and go to sleep, ' his inner dialogue finally ends with another sigh and a sip of water.

On his way to the bedroom, the streetlight filters through the blinds, drawing straight lines of light on the wall which Johnny sees with his peripheral vision, and the sight of his shadow blurred puts him to a halt for some reason. His mind now at a kind of peace, he turns, tilts his head, and watches the silhouette of his shadow follow.
He wonders for a second how Ten sees him; what exactly he can see when he looks at Johnny in different situations; but he shoos the thought after a moment, and moves towards the bedroom anew.
What he's been thinking of needs to be processed and he can't escape it and he knows—just, not this night, not after his heart survived a roller-coaster and not after he found that maybe Ten doesn't at all mind the even further narrowing of his personal space of which it is worth to be said there isn't much left.

After landing, sitting already in the car on his way home, Ten sends his phone a long glance, as if doing so would persuade the device to do anything, but, unlike people around him usually do, the thing doesn't obey.

'It's eight in the morning already there, isn't it,' he thinks as he opens the chat and types his typical, 'good morning fatass!! ㅇㅅㅇ', but before sending he erases the exclamation marks and the emoticon, smiling as an idea comes to his mind, 'wow you're being gravely serious right now.'

It's not that he waits for an immediate reply, for even if Johnny has already woken up from sleep—Ten hopes he did go to bed that night—his phone is probably left under the pillow, which has happened on quite a few occasions recently.
Ten blocks his phone and rests his head on the glass of the car window, biting on his lip thoughtfully.

'This fortnight is going to be long, right?'

Dad says something to him with a smile, but he misses and asks to repeat, startled as he turns his head.

'How's Johnny doing?' and he thinks the world has decided to taunt him, but he manages to muster some general words that usually work during phone calls when he's too tired to go into details, even though he understands his father won't buy into that. He hates lying—or, in this case, keeping back, but the image of the last night at the moment is taking too much of his mind for him to be able to prescind from it.

At the first few sentences, Thai tastes foreign on his tongue, but the feeling fades and eventually disappears, his consciousness gradually coming back from the mixture of English and Korean, which somehow seemed dear now.
He is candidly glad to finally see his parents and sister, to come back home and talk to his family during an early breakfast. It indeed sets a warmth into his heart, but there is still a shimmer of a memory in his mind he can't help returning to while he is describing how his typical day has changed with time. That flicker of a flashback bursts out when he feels his mobile buzz in his jeans pocket, making his hand with a fork come to a halt midway to his mouth.
Ten by touch takes his phone out with his free hand and steals a glimpse at the screen.

'morning. I'm leaving for practice soon, will be out of reach, schedule sucks for today, sorry. have a good day. xx'

'Really?' Ten thinks with a smirk as he types the answer, not really trying to be discreet. Now, he does put some effort in resisting replying with a single emoji, but it's a chance to be so shameless that he just cannot miss it. He sends the blowing a kiss emoji and puts the phone away, returning to conversation, making a sight that he hasn't been absolutely distracted for a few seconds.

Youngho, sitting on his bed, blinks at the incoming message that lights up the screen of his phone, but stupor leaves him after a moment, and he chuckles, hiding his face in a towel.

'Jesus,' he whispers in English soundlessly, raising his head, and continues drying his hair. Taeyong, in the middle of changing his tee, sends him an understanding glance, his lips about to form a grin. 'Get lost,' Johnny says with a smile and lets the wet towel rest on his shoulders.

'I wasn't even going to say anything,' Taeyong shrugs and touches up the hems of the short sleeves.

'Sure.'

'Really, I'm not making fun of you two. I'm glad.'

'Thanks mommy,' Johnny zips up his hoodie and stands up, throwing the towel on the bed.

'Hey, it's better not to leave it like that, or it'll smell mouldy.'

'I just wonder,' Johnny drawls as he obeys thoughtlessly and almost automatically, 'how do you even know?'

'It's your typical 'There's something in my stomach and I'm not sure if it's dak galbi or some life form or maybe feelings???', I assure you. It was enough just to look at you to get what was going on inside your pretty head.'

'The funny thing is that I didn't realise it myself.'

'And that is what I was talking about. Shit now I want dak galbi,' when he notices Youngho's stare, he laughs, but brightly and without a hint of a mock. 'For real?'

'Well I'd expect this if I were you. Living in the US since birth has its side effects.'

'That's grilled chicken in spicy paste with lots of other stuff. When Ten comes back, you two go and try it, I highly recommend, especially at one place I know, it's incredible there.'

Johnny pauses, his lips parting a bit. 'Yeah, sure. You'll give me directions. When Ten comes back,' he utters with a genuine yet weak mirth, suddenly too thoughtful to be capable of more, but Taeyong, pulling him by the elbow, distracts him instantly.

'Let's go, it's about time.'

Youngho's phone is quite predictably left on his pillow. When he comes back in the evening, he throws what feels like a thousand messages at Ten, and gets just as many replies, and it's a bit easier to fall asleep with Ten sending him yet another ridiculous emoji, two hearts revolving around each other this time.

All Johnny can see at first is the red sky, and all he can hear is rattle and how Ten says something in Thai. There isn't a greeting even when they can see each other, Ten just starts with, 'One day I'll take you here. Take a look,' and moves his hand so that the camera would show the sea with a faint red reflection of the setting sun on its surface. 'Er. It's better than it may seem really, and the smell is nice.'

'It is pretty,' Johnny replies, holding his phone cautiously and stretching out his legs, his spine against the wall. 'Where is it?'

'Khun Thian, if that tells you anything,' there is Ten's smiling face on the screen now, dark because of the sun in the background.

'Not really,' Youngho smiles and puts his hand on the floor to shift his weight a bit.

'The southern Bangkok. I proudly present you,' the image changes again for five seconds to show the sign, 'The Sea View Point, with capitals. So official, but you see how it is in reality,' he rubs his forehead with his little finger. 'Any other embankment in the city is more beautiful, but I like the place anyway. I hope I'll show it to you someday. Okay, enough of virtual sightseeing. How was your day?'

'In short, my shins were asking for mercy but I showed none, so I think they'll be merciless tomorrow.'

At that Chittaphon chuckles as if he's about to die, hiding his mouth behind his palm, and somewhere in Johnny's chest there is a movement.
'Stretching?'

'Mostly. I don't want the muscles to form a huge knot, or I'll have to buy new jeans.'

'If in order to be able to wear pants you have to choose ones that stop emphasizing the shape of your thighs I will come and stretch your calves in the cruellest way I remember from the times when I did gymnastics.'

'Jesus, Ten,' Johnny doubles, laughing, and for a few moments Ten can only see the ceiling of the dorm hall.

'Are you alive?'

'Do you have any shame?'

Youngho, sitting on the floor, comes back to the screen, and Ten sends him a flying kiss. 'Don't you know me well enough not to ask such questions?'

'Maybe you have it hidden somewhere. Hope dies last.'

'No.'

They both smile at the short answer, feeling like there aren't almost four thousand kilometres of sea and land between them—but only for a moment, then Johnny parts his lips and breathes in through his teeth. 'It's a bit quiet here without you.'

'It sounds like I'd better stay here actually.'

'Ten.'

'I know I know,' he laughs again, turning. Now the sun is on his right, lighting his face, and Johnny can't stop himself from, 'You're beautiful.'

Hearing that for probably a millionth time, Ten still reacts, opening his eyes wider —as if in surprise — and smiling — as if awkwardly. Or maybe, Youngho enjoys the thought, it is sincere.

'Hey. I'll come back soon.'

'I know.'

Johnny blinks and looks up as someone passes by, but he doesn't have enough time to recognise the person and he doesn't really care, for he wants to be isolated in the tiny space around him, with the phone in his hands and Ten's voice and sounds of the sea in his earphones; and he knows it is mutual.

Johnny glares tiredly at a board, checking what time it is, and sighs, hiding his hands in pullover sleeves so that only the tips of his fingers stick out—he believes he has inherited this habit from Ten.

He was trying to distract himself from waiting, lying on his bed, when the phone screen lighted up with a guilty,
'We're delayed, and it's been an hour already. I honestly don't know when we depart and if we're even going to… I hope you haven't come to the airport in advance, dumbass. Get some sleep, I'll get to the dorm on my own, don't worry. And the phone battery's about to die :('

A joke that once had been common between the female seniors in his school came to Johnny's mind, 'Real love is when he doesn't skimp and sends you a double text without contractions like brb.'
He couldn't muster enough strength to even smirk.

'Delayed' is in bright yellow, blurred because of the wish to sleep. He has taken a nap of three or four hours but wasn't able to fall asleep again after waking up from your typical dream with falling down scenario, so he decided to check if it was possible to monitor Ten's flight—which it was. This way, he knew approximately when to come to the airport, and the knowledge put him at ease a bit.

The 'delayed' sign imprints in his mind with another announcement of a random flight arriving.

Johnny elbows his knees and rests his head in his hands, pitter-pattering on his cheekbones, and murmurs so quietly that the words are somewhere in between a sigh and a whisper, 'Is the world really so against?'

It's not physically that he is tired; of course, he'd appreciate some sleep, but it is waiting that has savoured his heart and power. It's only been two weeks since he last saw Ten, and now it is just a few hours more—but he literally is shaking, and he has to clasp his hands to stay more or less still. When they were supposed to meet five hours before, when dozens of messages have eaten the rest of the money on Johnny's mobile account and Ten's phone battery, when they both have exhausted themselves waiting—it hurts somewhere near Johnny's lungs.

Then there is an announcement that because of the weather conditions and a tight landing schedule the flight is delayed for another half an hour, and Youngho moans and drops his head on his knees, which he hugs with his hands, and closes his eyes. He's been waiting in the airport for twenty minutes only, but the atmosphere there and the feeling of time itself wanting to prolong just so that he would be through more suspense oppress him.

He hears something like, 'We've been here for three hours already,' and sighs.

'Thank god I decided to track his plane, or I'd be dead here by now.'

Mere five hours, it would seem, shouldn't be so wearisome, even comparing to two weeks of separation, but…

Exchange of texts isn't enough, video calls at late evenings, when they both finally have a chance, are taken as a flout, and he just wants to rest his head on Ten's shoulder and fall asleep in a bus, his fingers around the younger's wrist, is it really too much he asks for?

Johnny almost falls asleep when it's announced that some other flight is postponed, and that the flight he needs is ready to land. He straightens his spine, looking around, but doesn't really have enough strength left in him, so he tilts his head and closes his eyes.

After what felt like a split second, a touch of someone else's hands makes him shudder; he doesn't have enough time to even open his eyes when a body is pressed against his. The familiar mixture of smells of deodorant and cologne makes him drown in sensation of he is here he is finally here, and Johnny hugs in response, desperately clinging to the cloth on Ten's back and nuzzling in his shoulder.

'I told you there was no need to wait for me,' Chittaphon says quietly, pulling away and examining Youngho's sleepy face with a gentle smile from about fifteen centimetres distance, and the latter's drowsy mind asks to move ahead, to steal a kiss, and there is actually nothing easier for him. Johnny feels dizzy when Ten cups his face with his palms and slightly wiggles it. 'Are you okay? Good morning.'

Johnny has to collect his thoughts to be able to nod, and all he can say is, 'Hi,' and he himself can hear tiredness, mirth, relief, and most of all warmth that almost burns, which he subconsciously has put in this greeting. He moves his hand, fingers slipping from the sleeves, and touches Ten's wrists, asking to stay like this for a little longer. After a few seconds, they both stand up. Johnny can't help but notices how wrinkled Ten's shirt looks after a long trip when he snaps up the suitcase handle.

'I'll take it, don't worry. After six hours of flight the last thing you need is to drag your luggage,' he smiles and pulls Chittaphon by his elbow.

'As if after falling asleep in the airport it is a resort to help me with a bag. Did you even sleep tonight?' he obeys and instantly outruns Johnny by force of habit.

'I did. I was at the dorm when I got your message, but my reply has never got through.'

'Yeah, my phone died. How long have you been waiting here?'

'Um,' Johnny looks around, searching for a clock, 'About half an hour, forty minutes maybe. I used a website to check where your flight was, and came here a few minutes before your scheduled landing, well, if you count two hours delay scheduled.'

'Neat. Ahh, I just want to fall down on my bed and sleep, even though it's ten in the morning.'

Johnny observes his moves, gripping the suitcase handle, which is still hot after Ten's hand, and it feels that he still hasn't woken up and that there will just be another announcement that the flight from Bangkok is delayed again—but it doesn't happen, and, biting on his lower lip and smiling, he catches up with the younger and snakes his arm around Ten's.

'I suggest we take AREX.'

Chittaphon doesn't reply for a few seconds, only looking gently at Youngho, and then touches up his hyung's messy hair. 'I missed you so much.'

'I missed you too.'

They indeed fall asleep in the train.

Ten shares his earphones, and the music makes Johnny feel at home finally, with the playlist somehow familiar and the warmth of the body nearby lulling.
Youngho's head rests on the other's shoulder when he falls asleep, and he can't hear Ten whispering him something in a questioning tone. The younger smiles when Johnny doesn't reply, and covers his hand with his own. Tilting his head so that it would rest lightly on Johnny's, he closes his eyes and yawns. It takes him a couple of minutes to fall asleep, not thinking of anything but how he actually has missed all that—it has been a fortnight, but the days felt inappropriately long without being able to randomly touch Johnny, or to make a silly remark and laugh at it together, or—from now on—to kiss him when no one looks.

They might have needed to discuss what happened that night weren't they themselves, but somehow there is nothing easier for both, being the first ones to board the train, than to have a brief two seconds of a gentle kiss before another person enters. With the windows dark due to the walls of the station building, so with no one to see them, Johnny bent quickly and kissed Ten lightly, without asking or saying anything, and then sat down, like nothing special had happened—and nothing had, in fact.
Ten was surprised, to be frank, but smiled against Youngho's lips, for somehow this was what he had missed most, what he has been almost craving for since the midnight in the beginning of February.

Taeyong is the one to smile knowingly and to leave the room immediately after practice, with something like, 'I haven't yet taken a shower and I've wanted to watch that one movie for like an eternity,' as an excuse, and Johnny can't help grinning thankfully at him.

Living in a dorm has its disadvantages, the lack of privacy always being the most vexed one, but for a few months now both Johnny and Ten have felt it like they had never done before. It's not that no one notices the two are together, but while Chittaphon seems able to go and ask, 'Please give us a room we're going to make out,' Johnny still has those remnants of whether it's shame or conscious not to do so.

Still, coincidentally they get their moments together, when they can afford to share Johnny's bed, just cuddling and kissing, with nothing and no one to disturb them, with the room becoming their own territory even though only for a while.
And they can't really ask for more, when the minutes both so long and so short are at their disposal and they're allowed to build a tiny world that only belongs to them, where they seem to have quite enough time for their kisses to transform from a bit clumsy yet gentle, and cautious, and even modest at first to such that send shivers down their spines, more passionate, more sensuous, and much less reserved.
They give all the time they have to slowly, without any rush, get acquainted with each other in a physical way; touching gently on exposed skin with the fingertips; getting used to the warmth and sensation of a contact when there is no tissue to be an obstacle; occasionally feeling such lack of oxygen they have to break a kiss to catch their breaths.

And they don't think of or discuss how they have ended up like this, snuggling up to each other, still breathless. Johnny can't resist from making a remark that sends Ten laughing and makes him look at a faint bite mark on his collarbone as he sits up and reaches for his sweater. When he is busy unfolding the messed cloth that has been taken off impatiently, Youngho's palm runs up his spine; he sits up and kisses the back of the younger's neck.
'How many movies you think Taeyong has left at his wish list?'
Johnny chuckles at that and helps him into the sweater.
They spend a few more minutes hugging in silence, cherishing the last moments of private time they're given.

The first time is utterly random, at one evening in the early December, when Ten is busy doing washing up, for it is his turn this day.
The kitchen is light and quiet, everyone is in their rooms, or in the living room, or whereever else; the air is filled with the smell of washing-up liquid, that classic artificial lemon odour that sometimes makes your nose itchy. Johnny unfolds a sweet and spends good fifteen seconds looking at it as Ten is complaining of a pain in his neck that has occured probably due to a new pillow he bought a week ago — it's not that Youngho listens attentively. He is mesmerised with the orange glossy surface of the candy that he holds between his index and thumb carefully, not really thinking of anything. He feels dizzy.

Before Ten finishes his rant, Johnny stands up from the table, leaving the sweet lying on its wrap, makes a few soundless steps and hugs the younger from behind, making him laugh in genuine surprise. The smell of lemon strikes Johnny's nose, and he nuzzles into Chittaphon's hair, obviously giving preference to the smell of a mint shampoo.

'What is wrong with you? I'm actually doing something useful here,' but there isn't anger in Ten's voice, only the pure mirth, as he puts a clean cup on a counter and takes a fork to scrab it with a sponge.

Though, he stops midway to hear,
'I love you,' Johnny whispers into his ear and places a kiss behind it, then a few more. When he feels Ten's hand, wet and covered in foam, on his hair, he laughs and murmurs, 'hey, watch your hands.'

'Watch your lips,' Chittaphon turns his head and puts a bit of foam on Johnny's nose before turning away and continuing his duty.

Youngho snorts, trying to blow the bubbles off his nose, but fails and chuckles anew. 'I love you so much,' and he hugs Ten tighter, his palms on the other's chest, as if trying to sense his heartbeat.

A few moments pass, Johnny's hand hot on Ten's pulse, before the latter answers,
'I love you more,' he tilts his head, breathing in sharply as Johnny's lips are on his neck again, for good and all distracting him from the dishes, with the water still running.

‘Now what is this?’

Hearing a sleepy stammer from behind, Ten turns his head, and his eyes meet Johnny's. The latter, half-asleep, moves his glance from Ten to a screen and back a few times before moaning, ‘Really?’

‘I enjoy it,’ Ten fakes an aggrieved tone but can't hold back a grin when Johnny sits up and rubs his eyes with his knuckles, making a ridiculous sound and looking almost like a cat washing its face after a long sleep.

‘Just, don't order it, okay?’

‘Why not? Taeyong would appreciate such a…’ he looks at the screen and reads in a standart TV ads voice, ‘uniquely convenient way to organise your dishes.’

Johnny glares at him, still not fully awake. ‘So we were watching a movie. And now you're deadly interested in a shopping channel?’

‘Not my fault you've fallen asleep in the middle. Anyway, the ending sucks. Come on,’ he exclaims with a bright smile when Johnny drowsily frowns, ‘I know you love me and my silly habits.’

The older smiles, unable to resist, crooks his spine and nuzzles Ten's cheekbone, smiling. ‘I do.’

‘And there is also a nice hanger, really stylish, art deco or something,’ he continues as he snakes his hands around Johnny's knees.

‘Sure,’ the other purrs, tilting his head and placing a kiss on Ten's cheek. Then moves his hand, covering the back of the younger's head to make him turn. ‘Come here, I want to kiss you.’

Ten smiles even wider and shifts his posture a bit to let Johnny kiss him lazily.

A few commercials pass unnoticed before they finally stop and decide to simply go through channels, while cuddling and occasionally sharing long idle kisses or foolish gentle whispers, and laughing at random TV shows.

'I love you,' Ten hears as he is about to leave the room, his palm on a doorhandle.

He turns to smile at Youngho an say quietly, without any hesitation, for it is such a thing that has become truly essential to him, has become something he feels happy to express, 'I love you too.'