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first. he touches you and you light on fire. your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin. the burns don’t show, but it’s hard to breathe with ash in your lungs. it’s so hard to breathe. you’re suffocating daily.
they meet at a party. the house is packed with people and jisung stands off to the side of it all. if it were on him, he wouldn’t even be here. his idea of a fun friday night is staying up all night, until time stops moving and everything starts blending together, playing videos games while he’s high out of his mind. this party? it’s nowhere near being the top of the list of things jisung wants to be doing right now.
but changbin and chan have gotten sick of his half-assed excuses and decided enough is enough. so. he’s here now, nursing a cup of whatever the fuck liquid changbin shoved at him earlier and leaning against one of the walls in the living room.
he considers just leaving, texting his friends that he’s heading home and that he’ll see them tomorrow, screw them getting mad. and he’s almost about to if he hadn’t spotted what has to be an ethereal being in the form of a university student across the room right then.
whoever he is, he’s pretty. like really pretty. as in jisung has no qualms about getting down on one knee and proposing to him right then and there kind of pretty. if chan and changbin saw jisung now, they’d laugh at him. what kind of aspiring songwriter can only use the word pretty to describe someone whose looks could rival those of an angel.
he looks taller than jisung; jisung can tell that much from where he is at least. he has blonde hair that cascades down to his shoulders and a lithe figure that jisung’s sure any model would kill for. he’s wearing tight, black pants and a silk pale blue, almost grey, see through button up. at least, jisung thinks it’s supposed to be one, considering only the middle two buttons are actually done leaving the rest of the boy’s toned stomach is on display. jisung forgets to be jealous; he’s too busy trying to get his heartbeat back to a normal pace. the guy’s face is chiseled, like an unfair amount, with full lips that jut out slightly at the bottom. jisung kinda wants to kiss him.
scratch that. he definitely wants to kiss him.
jisung’s eyes trail up the rest of the boy’s face until he reaches his eyes. huh. that’s weird. they look like they’re staring right back at jisung. wait.. fuck.
once he realizes he’s been caught staring, jisung quickly averts his gaze, resolutely looking down at the half full red solo cup in his hand. this is why jisung hates parties. he can’t even get through an hour in one without humiliating himself.
he doesn’t know how long he stands there for, not until there’s a tap on his shoulder and his eyes dart up to make eye contact with the pretty boy from earlier. except this time he’s standing right in front of him with his mouth open like he wants to speak to jisung. speak? to.. jisung?
“um, hello?” jisung awkwardly stutters out.
“hi,” the guy says and, fuck if that is not the most blinding smile jisung’s ever laid eyes on, second only to felix maybe. “I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to dance. maybe?”
jisung stares.
the silence seems to be getting to the guy because he starts talking again, “you don’t have to. I’m sorry, I just thought– since you were staring earlier. sorry, forget it.”
“you wanna dance? with me?’ jisung blurts out, almost cutting the other off.
the boy shoots him a puzzled look, and of course jisung he literally just got done explaining that to you, his cheeks tinting a lovely pink. “yeah, I do.”
“okay.”
“..okay?”
“yeah, okay,” jisung breathes. “what’s your name?”
there’s that smile again. jisung could look at that smile all day. “hyunjin,” he says.
“pretty.” fuck. “I mean that’s a pretty name.” jisung resists the urge to facepalm. “I’m jisung,” he tells the boy– hyunjin.
hyunjin giggles, honest to god giggles. “it’s nice to meet you, jisung.”
when jisung looks at hyunjin again, he’s met with flickering sparks in his eyes and a slight curl of lips. jisung’s breath catches and he gets a sudden impulse to ruin the boy before him. unless hyunjin chooses to ruin him first.
despite his earlier bashfulness, hyunjin becomes a completely different person on the dance floor, well, the makeshift one everyone’s made in the living room.
what starts out innocently enough quickly progresses into something heavier. jisung easily gets lost in the atmosphere that’s sets until all he can feel and see and think about is hyunjin. his hands reach out to grab at hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to himself. hyunjin’s skin feels warm underneath jisung’s touch, his body heat threatening to scorch his hands. jisung can’t get enough of him.
so he tightens his hold on hyunjin and meets him head-on. bringing one hand to hyunjin’s face, jisung tilts his chin down until their faces are levelled together and moves his own closer to hyunjin’s. he watches as hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut, his breaths coming out warm and heavy. jisung is almost tempted to tease him for longer, wait until the lines on hyunjin’s forehead begin to crease and his lower lip juts out in a pout, but jisung would be a fool not to admit that he’s just as desperate as hyunjin is. instead, he leans forward until their lips meet and don’t stop meeting.
he’s a bit hesitant at first, not sure if he should be allowed to have access to this part of hyunjin, someone so devastatingly captivating that he leaves jisung at a loss for words.
kissing hyunjin feels like taking the first breath after a forest fire, when the smogs all cleared up and all that’s left are the bright, red flickering ashes of the leaves. kissing hyunjin feels like jisung, himself, is being lit on fire. the skin where hyunjin’s hands trace leave a path of burning supernovas in its wake. jisung can’t get enough, he wants to drown in this feeling. he pushes, and pushes until all he’s breathing in is hyunjin. until he’s left gasping for air because he doesn’t want to part. jisung thinks he would gladly let hyunjin set him aflame if it meant basking in this feeling forever.
jisung goes home that night with a permanent grin tattooed on his face and a new contact in his phone.
second. it hurts to watch him. he shines. he’s brighter than the sun, he’s too beautiful for your eyes. it’s hard to look at him. it’s even harder to look away from him. you’re going blind.
jisung’s favourite thing to do is watch hyunjin dance. sitting front row at his boyfriend’s year-end showcase only enhances the experience. the first time jisung watched hyunjin perform this, he stood there with his jaw hanging open for a good five minutes. now, he’s practically on the edge of his seat, staring up at where hyunjin’s on stage with stars in his eyes.
so, what do you think?
I think I can’t take my eyes off of you even if I tried.
there’s something about the way hyunjin shifts into every next move of his. it’s not calculated, not really, but rather like his body doesn’t see any other option than to fully embody the next move; like its ebbing and flowing out of him without even giving hyunjin a say in it. like he’ll explode if he doesn’t show everything he can right in that moment. it’s mesmerizing, addicting. only a fool would try to look away from him.
the music is haunting, not like the usual hip hop vibes hyunjin goes for. hyunjin encapsulates every lyric as the words come to life, feet never seeming to fully touch the ground. instead, they fly him across the stage until he’s practically suspended in the air in his brilliance.
as the last note of the song rings throughout the auditorium, hyunjin stands with his back facing towards the audience. jisung traces the line of his shoulders, down his arms and stays for a moment at his waist. jisung can see the outline of it through hyunjin’s white blouse, can see as it moves up and down to the rhythm of hyunjin’s harsh breaths, no doubt winded from the show he just put on. when the lights come back on and hyunjin turns towards the front of the stage, jisung’s eyes catch his. the applause around him is deafening, but all jisung can focus on is hyunjin.
sometimes. sometimes, jisung looks at hyunjin and feels a painful tug at his heart. he wonders how lucky he is to have someone, so pure and honest in everything he does, look at jisung the way hyunjin does. like he’s blinded by love for him. as if it shouldn't be jisung that looks at hyunjin that way. as if he doesn’t look at hyunjin in the same exact way, if not more intense. it’s hard not to want to drop everything on the spot when hyunjin’s there. it’s hard, because jisung feels like he never has enough to give, like he will never have enough to give. not to the extent he wishes he could. jisung looks at hyunjin and wants to pour every bit of love he can offer into him until hyunjin’s drowning underneath it all; until hyunjin gets overwhelmed with how much he feels for him the way jisung sometimes does. he wants hyunjin to know that he’s the most important person in jisung’s life.
it’s worrying how much jisung would give up for him.
but then, hyunjin will turn jisung’s way and throw that million watt smile at him, and jisung forgets to think about what should or shouldn’t be. he can’t see anything but hyunjin and, suddenly, his heart is filled with so much warmth.
maybe jisung’s favourite thing to do isn’t watch hyunjin dance, but just watch hyunjin in general. it’s hard not to, when the dancer is just so expressive in everything he does. a person could experience the entirety of life just through watching hyunjin, might prefer it even.
the way he ties his hair up in a ponytail after one too many times of it getting in his face, the column of his neck on display for jisung’s hungry eyes. or when hyunjin’s watching a new drama and an explosion of colours takes over his face. when he immerses himself so deeply in the story that he can’t help but start crying, or burst into laughter, sometimes getting flustered enough that he’ll end up squealing and rolling around whatever he’s sitting on. or maybe it’s when hyunjin comes back from university, on days where his dance instructors decided to dress up as reincarnations of hell, and he’ll sit on jisung’s kitchen counter and complain to him for hours. his lips in full pout and hands gesturing dramatically as he looks to jisung for validation, validation that jisung always gives.
yeah, jisung can’t tear his eyes away from him. he doesn’t even want to try.
third. your ears are tuned to his voice. you could pick him out in a sea of thousands. his voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. his voice makes everything else sound ugly.
writing lyrics can be a real pain in the ass, jisung can admit that at least, no matter how confident he usually is in himself in that area. it’s one in the morning and jisung is sat at his tiny, round dining table, the same position he’s been in for the past two hours.
his ‘intermediate writing for lyric forms’ professor assigned them a project that’s due in less than a week and jisung is already swamped with so many other assignments. but jisung has to get something done tonight. students are supposed to write a song about love and how it can present itself in many forms. jisung chose to write about love present in people’s voices. except that he’s completely lost on what that actually means. jisung is no stranger to love; he thinks of his boyfriend who’s currently sleeping comfortably on jisung’s bed. alone. when jisung could be curled up beside him. hyunjin.. hyunjin’s voice is pretty, jisung thinks.
. . .
“hey, jinnie, sing me a song?” jisung asks from where he’s laying across the couch with his head propped up on hyunjin’s lap.
hyunjin shoots him an odd look, “huh? that’s– what? jisung, I can’t sing.” his tone suggests that this is something jisung is supposed to already know. jisung knows that hyunjin thinks that, but he also knows that the admission is not at all true.
“yes, you can,” jisung asserts. “I’ve heard you singing before and you sound beautiful, jinnie. I love your voice.”
he means it. rarely does hyunjin sing around jisung, but from the moments where jisung’s been able to hear him cutely murmur lyrics under his breath or listen to hyunjin passionately sing along to songs in the shower when he thinks jisung’s not awake, jisung knows that hyunjin has a nice voice. soft and smooth like honey.
“so, sing to me, please?” jisung asks again.
“I–,” hyunjin drags his teeth across his lower lip, biting it nervously. “okay, I guess. if it helps you fall asleep.”
jisung grins, nodding up at him. his heart skips a beat at the thought that hyunjin is pushing himself out of his comfort zone for jisung’s comfort. maybe his voice isn’t the most experienced and it allows nervous tremors to shine through, but that’s not what matters to jisung. what matters is that it’s hyunjin singing.
eventually, he falls asleep to the delicate rhythm of hyunjin’s voice reaching his eardrums.
In my silent heart that has lost all words
I hear a voice like hearing a memory,
I’ll be there, behind you when you walk alone
Singing till the end, this song that won’t end
Take a deep breath
I’ll sing for you, who forgot how to cry out loud
.
jisung snaps out of his trip down memory lane as the quiet in the living room breaks.
“sungie.” a voice calls out in a deep grumble. “what are you doing?”
jisung turns around to look at the owner of said voice, already anticipating the sight before him. hyunjin’s standing by jisung’s bedroom door clutching a comforter, which is dragging across the ground with how big it is, tightly around his body.
“I was just up writing some lyrics,” jisung responds softly. “sorry, baby, did I wake you?”
“no, you didn’t,” hyunjin shakes his head. “come back to bed,” he whines, “it’s cold.”
jisung grins. despite hyunjin hating any forms of cute displays, he’s acting undeniably cute right now; shoulders hiked up to his ears and lips pursed in a pout.
“okay, jinnie. I’m coming.” jisung’s heart soars when he gets the most adorable, content smile in response. his mood doesn’t dampen one bit, not even when hyunjin’s mouthing off in his ear about how he disrupted his sleep and how the bed is cold without you. you’re so mean han jisung, abandoning me here by myself, why’d you ask me to stay the night if you weren’t gonna even sleep in your bed with me until he finally falls asleep with his face tucked against jisung’s neck.
maybe it’s not that love is always present in hyunjin’s voice, but rather chooses to make itself known whenever he’s beside jisung.
fourth. the color of his eyes is blue enough to drown in. he is turning you into a clichéd love-wrecked being. you’re drowning, always sinking. down, down, down.
relationships are not all rainbows and butterflies. well, jisung could have told anyone that, but he didn’t quite think the lows would get to him this badly.
just seeing hyunjin hurt is apparently enough to tear jisung’s heart in two.
hyunjin, in all his expressiveness, has never been good at concealing his emotions from his face. everything he feels is written clear as day across his face, but there’s never anything quite as telling as his eyes.
like when hyunjin stares at jisung in obvious annoyance during one of their fights, anger woven in between the dips and creases of his face. a frustrated snear smeared across his lips. a worrying crease between his eyebrows. he almost looks like he hates jisung, at that moment. it leaves a bitter sting.
(they’re both quick to anger, more often than not they’ll walk away from arguments with bruised prides and damaged egos. sometimes, though, jisung will forget to follow the fire flowing through his veins; instead he looks at hyunjin and just understands.)
but what hurts the most are the tears that gather in hyunjin’s eyes.
they pool together like water does at the top of a river, a surplus forming until it smoothes out the rough surface below it and eventually breaks free in the shape of a waterfall. and even when jisung reaches out to try to desperately stop the flood, it keeps spilling. he thinks the water would taste bitter, full of betrayal and hurt.
above all, it turns hyunjin’s gaze into a pseudo blackhole, the type that can be found in the deep sea. jisung read about them once. scientists say they originate from a lack of oxygen, like the water has lost all access to air supply that it doesn’t know where else to go and resigns to folding into itself. twisting and twirling and gasping for air. jisung could easily get lost in them, sucked into their never ending cycle. maybe this is how pirates lost at sea felt. so naively loyal and destined for the sea that they let it do whatever it pleases to them. any gift from the sea was received with gratitude and a sense of indebtedness.
hyunjin’s eyes, coupled with his immense beauty, makes jisung think that hyunjin is eerily like a siren; his tears hypnotize jisung much like a siren call would. jisung would be content if hyunjin’s eyes were the reason behind his ruining, but he loathes to think that he’s the reason behind their suffering.
(even worse are the times when it’s not jisung who has added on to the mountain of stress on hyunjin’s shoulders. even worse are the days when all he can do is hold hyunjin as he collapses into a tsunami of water in his arms.)
jisung holds onto that pain. both his and hyunjin’s. he holds on to it because it’s something tangible, something real.
it tells him I never want to see anything, but a smile on his face.
it tells him that hey, this might be lo–.
hm.
it holds him back just as tight, and drags him down, deep deep, into hwang hyunjin’s sea.
fifth. you know him. you love him. through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him, you’d never leave him. you love him, till death do you part.
“han jisung, you are so dead!”
loud laughter erupts from jisung’s chest. “oh, baby, no need to get so violent.”
in front of him stands hyunjin, a sight to behold, with flour spread all over his shirt and brownie batter staining his cheeks, put there by courtesy of han jisung. the han jisung that hyunjin is currently cussing out.
“I think you look cute,” jisung grins.
hyunjin rolls his eyes, but the smile playing on his lips can’t be mistaken, “oh, I’ll show you cute.”
and with that, jisung gets a faceful of brownie batter as hyunjin tackles him to the ground.
five minutes later and an inhumane amount of batter in places batter should never be, jisung is sprawled out half on hyunjin and half on the cold tile of the kitchen floor beneath them. he places his forearms on hyunjin’s chest to raise himself up a little bit until he can look at hyunjin properly.
hyunjin looks up at him, too. his eyes are twinkling like soft moonshine, a fond smile taking over as his gaze fixes on jisung. jisung’s breath catches when hyunjin rakes his fingers through jisung’s hair, even though he knows it has to feel gross with all the flour and dried batter on his hand and in jisung’s own hair.
“so,” jisung coughs in a pathetic attempt to distract hyunjin from his quickly reddening cheeks, “I think we should leave all baking to felix only.”
hyunjin laughs but doesn’t make a move to reply, his focus stays on jisung and his hair.
“your hair looks really pretty like this, sungie.” hyunjin comments. “blonde, I mean.”
he had just recently dyed his hair that weekend after their winter semester ended, and any chance hyunjin could, he would compliment jisung on it. and every single time, jisung would be reduced to a flustered, stuttering mess much to hyunjin’s pleasure. no amount of complaining from jisung seemed to get him to stop.
(“aw, but sungie, I think pink is such a pretty colour on you.”
“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you stop speaking, like, right now.” )
this time, though, jisung refuses to fold. “hmm, so I’ve been told.”
hyunjin pouts. he looks about one second away from whipping out his puppy dog eyes at jisung. how cheap! when he knows jisung can’t refuse anything small and cute and hyunjin.
“okay, you overgrown child.” jisung leans in and kisses the pout off of his lips. “thanks, baby.”
hyunjin laughs, bright and airy, as he boops his nose against jisung’s. “you’re welcome.”
jisung stays where he is for another moment, staring at hyunjin until the other shoots him a questioning looks. he ignores it in favour of mapping out the contours of hyunjin’s face, the tiny mole under his left eye, the soft curve of his nose, his peach coloured lips.
“what?” hyunjin asks, “is there something on my face?”
jisung snorts. “you do recall why we’re on the kitchen floor, right?” both of them were covered from head to toe with all kinds of edible substances and, well, things they could eat but probably shouldn’t.
“then, what is it? let me guess, you were just so lost in my beauty that you realized you were desperately in love with me?” hyunjin teases.
jisung freezes at the words, because technically, yeah that’s exactly what was happening. he can’t help it when he opens his mouth and says just that, voice soft with sincerity. “yeah, I was.”
hyunjin’s lips part in a tiny ‘O’, his eyes moving back and forth as they scan jisung’s face for any sign of teasing.
“I love you,” jisung tells him. “I’m absolutely and devastatingly in love with you, hwang hyunjin.”
jisung wants to scream the declaration from the top of his lungs. loving hyunjin feels like reaching into the bottom of a bag of his favourite chips and wanting more. loving hyunjin consumes jisung until he’s left with all this love, love that takes root inside his ribcage until it’s hard to breathe, until he can’t do anything except collapse as he endlessly bleeds out.
( sixth. he loves you, too. )
hyunjin’s resulting smile towards jisung is so bright.
“I’m absolutely and devastatingly in love with you, too, han jisung.”
jisung’s breath catches. “say it again.”
“I love you,” hyunjin giggles.
burying his smile into hyunjin’s chest, jisung repeats his request, voice coming out muffled. “again, again.”
hyunjin shakes under jisung from how hard he’s struggling to hold in his laughter and failing. “I love you, jisung. I love you, I love you, I love you.” he cups jisung’s cheeks in between both of his hands as he says it, pulling him closer so he can press a kiss onto jisung’s forehead, cheeks, nose, and, finally, an achingly gentle one against his lips.