Work Text:
His feet are too big for the shoes. Jungwon is kneeling on the carpet in front of him, looking as dejected as Sunghoon feels, maybe more so. He feels bad because he thinks Sunghoon is disappointed, and Sunghoon feels bad for making him feel bad about Sunghoon’s being disappointed, and thus being disappointed himself.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles, pushing them away with the side of his right foot. And it is. Sunghoon was curious, and Jungwon, in the few months they’ve known each other, has been nothing but supportive.
Jungwon reaches over and runs his pinky finger along the seam between the cream-colored leather and the purple, shinier material. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
He’s so different when they’re alone. He has an overly dominating personality and he’s loud, which is fun when Sunghoon has the energy and exhausting when he doesn’t. But when it’s just them, he’s almost timid, a sudden tenderness overcoming him. They’re good friends now, having survived the initial bumpiness.
“She has small feet,” he says. Jungwon, that is. He’s talking about Jungeun, his older sister. Sunghoon nods.
“She’s a girl, after all.”
The silence hangs between them, thick and heavy. Jungwon doesn’t say, you’re a girl, and Sunghoon is grateful. He doesn’t know what he is, and he appreciates that Jungwon, who tends to have all the answers, doesn’t pretend to understand him. He’s just here. It’s nice.
“Maybe I can put them on,” Jungwon suggests then, regretting it before the sentence has even made it out of his lips.
Sunghoon snorts and motions toward them. Knock yourself out, he gestures.
Jungwon crawls forward, letting himself fall on his butt, the sound dulled by the fabric beneath him. He’s wearing shorts, loose and blue, except for some white lining at the bottom. His thighs are strong and tanned, natural, from all the running he does. He doesn’t work out, not like Sunghoon did for the longest time.
He slips them on. They fit close to perfectly. Sunghoon watches him look at his own feet, twirling his ankle around slowly, experimentally, deliberately. It isn’t clear what he’s thinking. If he likes it, if a strange sense of peace overcomes him, the way it happened for Sunghoon when he locked himself in the bathroom, putting on his sister’s lipstick, heart racing.
“My legs look hot like this,” he says, then, eyes snapping up to catch Sunghoon staring. They twinkle. They always do. “Help me get up.”
Sunghoon pushes himself off the couch and squats down, holding onto Jungwon’s elbows, underarms rubbing together. He’s warm. He’s always been gentle to the touch, without even trying.
They’re the same height like this. Face to face, nose to nose, since Sunghoon is still holding him up. Jungwon is clinging to him, keeping his expression steady. Sunghoon can tell he desperately wants to laugh. He wishes he would. He wouldn’t offend him if he did.
“Your legs do look really good,” he suggests, and it bursts out of Jungwon, sharp and noisy. He looks down between them, the top of his head brushing against Sunghoon’s chin, giggling to himself.
His knees are wobbling. “Let’s move to the kitchen. Maybe it’s the carpet.”
It isn’t, at least not fully. It takes them a good five minutes to make it to the kitchen counter, to which Jungwon clings onto with dear life. He straightens his back, shaking his fringe out of his face. Sunghoon feels flustered. Their eye contact is more intense this way, and he’s never been good at handling those things. He looks at Jungwon’s fridge instead. A postcard, the same one Sunghoon got from when Sunoo was in Italy last year. Three magnets. An old receipt.
“Do you like me like this?” Jungwon asks.
Sunghoon’s eyes flit to the ground. Jungwon’s socks are striped. His legs aren’t very hairy. They look like women’s legs. His knees are pink and not lumpy at all. Sunghoon blows up his cheeks and shrugs. He shaves every three days. His face every morning.
But he isn’t upset. It sizzles, where his envy and his genuine adoration for Jungwon meet. Scallions dropped in hot oil.
“Noona,” Jungwon says, the smile gone from his voice.
Sunghoon looks back up at him.
Jungwon has to grab onto his shoulders to kiss him, so as not to fall once he lets go of the counter top. Sunghoon is startled and squeezes his eyes closed. Jungwon kisses like he has something to gain from it. Licks into Sunghoon’s mouth like he has a prize to win.
“I can’t—” Sunghoon gasps into his mouth, “I don’t want to—”
Jungwon stumbles backward, but Sunghoon is faster, fisting into his shirt, shaking his head. He tries not to grab Jungwon’s waist, doesn’t reach into his hair. He takes Jungwon’s wrist and presses his hand against his own cheek, hot, flushed skin. “I can’t sleep with you. I want to. I just— I can’t,” he manages to explain, and Jungwon nods with so much fervor Sunghoon is afraid he might get dizzy from it.
It isn’t the most natural thing. Jungwon’s all teeth and too much tongue, and Sunghoon feels a bit like a popsicle, but he doesn’t mind: to Jungwon, it seems, he is the most delicious popsicle on earth.
Jungwon guides his arms around his neck, standing on his tiptoes in his big sister’s heels. His hands roam over Sunghoon’s hips and sides, and he’s puffing up his chest, breathing heavily. He is so cute. Such cute a boy. Sunghoon can tell he’s trying not to grab his ass through his jeans.
“Oh, noona,” he sighs. Too gentle, too loving. Sunghoon expects to freak out, to pull away, to feel suffocated. Wants it to happen, maybe. Kissing Jungwon feels loaded, since they’re friends, or something like that, but it’s also probably okay.
He moves from Jungwon’s lips to his cheek, biting down once and carefully. Turns the make-out into a hug. The veranda into a garden. He can hear his own heartbeat roaring in his ears. Maybe he hears Jungwon’s, too. He might actually be a little taller than him like this.
“Thank you,” she mouths more than she speaks aloud.