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Jaeyong is a great pillow, warm and cuddly, his clothes smelling like fresh laundry detergent and some sort of cologne that makes me want to inhale and inhale, and maybe roll around in it, too, like it’s some weird version of Raleigh-nip, if there was ever a scent that would make me lose my ever-loving mind.
So it’s a surprise to no one that I fall asleep, eyes drooping closed as I’m pressed to his front, somehow also pressed into the back of the couch so one hip is stuck in the cushions, having thrown a leg over both of his, cheek pressed to his chest, moving up and down with every single breath he takes. I’m totally warm and cozy even if it feels like I’m crushing him, but I trust him to tell me if he’s uncomfortable, and he hasn’t said anything, so...
I’m in that half-sleep, half-awake state, brain tuning into my surroundings now, listening to the movie on TV. I recognize the dialogue from somewhere in the deep, dark depths that holds every good line of a movie or TV show I’ve ever come across in case someone makes a reference and I’ll be ready to blow them out of the water. Jaeyong’s maybe watching one of the Avengers movies, and I can’t place which one it is without concentrating more attentively on what’s being said and by whom.
And I don’t really wanna do that.
I want to float in this cozy space I’ve made for myself, a nest of sorts surrounded by Jaeyong and his warmth, his hand twisting and playing with the ends of my hair near my lower back, humming and just enjoying the movie with my whole body plastered to him.
I can tell he’s still awake from the constant movement of his fingers at the bottom of my hair (which I gave him permission to do the second I was lying down), his chest rising up and down a little too quickly to be considered slumbering off in Dreamland.
I’ve also re-discovered that Jaeyong is absolute shit at watching movies, or anything really, quietly. I can’t even imagine what’ll happen if we watch a K-League 1 game together, which is something I should look up and try to get tickets for, since I’m here and all. Soccer in Canada definitely isn’t as big of a thing as it is here in Korea, right next to baseball, of all things, one of the snooziest sports.
I’m aware of Haneul sniffing around my feet, gently nipping at the toes of my sock, probably trying to steal it, but he catches my toes a couple of times in a row, and I whine, not wanting to wake up. Jaeyong’s holding his breath underneath me, ruining the lulling rhythm that got me to fall asleep in the first place.
Huffing now, I blink my eyes open, confirming that yup, the first Avengers movie is on right now, nearing the end if I’m squinting right and making sense of the images playing through to my brain. I lift my head, rubbing at my cheek, my other hand not following orders and petting over Jaeyong’s chest, rubbing my hand along where his collarbones are hidden underneath his giant t-shirt, as if I’m soothing him into a nap instead of the other way around.
“Raleigh? You awake?” Jaeyong whispers, even as I turn my head towards him and blink, and blink some more, eyes drooping.
“Why are you so comfortable?” I groan, plonking my head back down onto his chest and he makes a pained sound, and I go on semi-fondling his chest, trying to soothe away the pain.
Fucking hell, when did he get so built?
How is this allowed?
“I’m glad, baby. Uh, is ‘baby’ okay? I don’t know, you tell me what you like—”
“Shhhhhh.” I rub my cheek against his pecs like some cat, sighing deeply when he starts laughing underneath me, ruining the rest of my nap as I get jostled over and over. “Awww, come on, just like five more minutes? Please?”
“How are you so tired?”
I mumble. “I don’t know, you’re warm. I feel good, don’t you feel good?” I murmur, hardly enunciating the words, hoping it comes across anyway. “Do you want me to get up, am I too heavy?”
“Just lie down and be comfortable, I’ll let you know if I gotta use the washroom.”
I nod, rubbing my cheek into his shirt again (it’s probably at least five hundred dollars but I’m not thinking about that right now), his hand moving over my head and stroking down my hair like he absolutely knows it’s my one true weakness. It makes my eyes flutter shut and my body go lax and loose.
I never want to move again, but I’m gonna have to go pee a lot sooner than I thought, so all of this is going be ruined, ruined.
“I could get used to this,” I sigh, making Jaeyong rumble out a laugh beneath my ear; I didn’t know that would be as soothing as it is. “Let me know if you ever want to be the little spoon. You’re really missing out.”
“Mmm,” Jaeyong hums, moving his fingertips to the back of my neck and squeezing down on the sore muscles there, making me into a Raleigh-shaped puddle, content to never move again, but I gotta pee.
“Okay, okay, let me get up. Just give me a push, would you?” The both of us get me sitting upright, Jaeyong sitting close, still gently rubbing my back, easing me into the waking world, still warm and soft, but shivering at the change in temperature now that I’m not pressed up against my boyfriend.
God, my boyfriend, the one and only Min Jaeyong.
I turn to him, fumbling with my own tongue, trying to get the words out, a subtle headache throbbing behind my half-mast eyes. “You’re my boyfriend,” I say, nodding to myself.
Jaeyong grins, a look of utter fondness crossing his face, and maybe he’s as gone for me as I’m gone for him, too.
But like, I’m not gonna ask him, not now, when my brain’s still muddled from all the cuddling and sweet touching and I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve been touched in this way, my skin hunger no longer a simmering burn underneath my flesh, an itch I couldn’t scratch, a pain I couldn’t readily describe.
It just feels super nice. God, he must feel even better than a weighted blanket.
I come back from the washroom, close to pouting when Jaeyong leaves my living room to go and do his business, surprised that Haneul sticks around with me instead of going to follow his appa across the apartment, going on a new adventure. Instead, the pup just sits on the blanket, plopping his head down, and when we make eye contact, a little happy rumble comes out of him, tail wagging too fast in anticipation.
Oh.
Oh.
“I’m gonna take the dog for a walk around the block!” I yell, even as I can hear Jaeyong flush, the sink runs for a bit so I’m not sure if he’s heard me, and then he finally comes out, hair wet and semi-free of product, pushing it back up off his forehead, face still full of makeup.
“Got any makeup wipes? I need to get this stuff off,” he says, swiping a hand over his face.
I shake my head. “I’ll get you something else.” I come back to the living room with a bottle of micellar water and a reusable hot pink wipe, giving instructions, and then telling him to use my face wash to get the film off his skin afterwards.
He gives me the A-OK to take the pup out, handing me a leash and poop bags, making sure I have my phone on me just in case. I roll my eyes at him even if I don’t go anywhere without a phone; I feel completely vulnerable otherwise, yikes.
Haneul is a hit with the entire neighbourhood, and if I didn’t know any better, the dog knows exactly how to make a beeline for little kids hanging out with their parents, tail wagging fast enough that the back half of his body sways from side to side too, so he sort of looks like he’s doing the canine version of the twist.
In one word? Adorable, and we must protect dogs (and all pets, really) at all costs.
I meet a couple of elementary school kids that may or may not go to the school I work at, older kids than the ones I’m teaching English to currently, but they both stare down at Haneul and ask to pet him in English.
“Thank you for asking,” I reply in Korean, kneeling down, just in case Haneul decides to make a liar out of me and not be the super-sweet dog he’s been the entire length of our walk. But then again, I don’t really like elevators, so I can only imagine how the pup feels. “Go ahead, he’s a sweet boy.”
They both move in close, telegraphing their movements, the little one too young to even be in school, opening her hand out. Haneul licks at her fingertips, making her screech in laughter until the elevator bings on our floor, and we all get off.
The little guy’s (not so little, I’m just bad at telling kid’s ages) holding onto a dépanneur bag, swaying it back and forth, holding his little sister’s hand as they both wave at us, the plastic bag rustling, and head down the hall, all the way to the end unit. I go back to my apartment, getting my first eyeful of a bare-faced Jaeyong for the night.
“Hi,” I say, a little embarrassed now, shy for no real plausible reason other than I went completely boneless on top of him. It’s not like I told him a shameful secret, or acted desperate in bed (which I mean, why is that shameful?), I’m just a little uncomfortable with how open I am with him, as if I was meant to be here, at this moment in time.
“Hey,” Jaeyong smiles, standing in the middle of my living room, doing the stretches known as chest openers, swinging his arms forward in a tight, tight hug almost around himself, then opening his arms out so his chest gets a nice stretch. It feels super good after a particular strenuous set of chest press and general soreness.
“How’d my son do?” He juts his chin out to Haneul, the pup, the absolute best boy, waiting for me to untie him from his leash before sprinting at his appa, launching himself at his legs to plaster the side of his body up against Jaeyong’s shins, waiting for pets.
“He was good. The hit of the neighbourhood. He went up to all the little kids running around outside. I’m serious, we were surrounded by a good fifteen of them at one point, and your son won them over.”
“Of course he did, eh, Haneul? My good boy!” Jaeyong baby-talks to his dog, ruffling the dog’s flanks, patting along his ribs. Haneul’s unable to sit still, knowing it’s play time. “Be my good boy and go sit on the couch?”
Haneul takes off and jumps up on my couch, staying to the blanketed section, standing up, tail wagging hard, mouth open, tongue lolling out. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was smiling.
I take my time walking into my own damn living room, as if I’m the stranger here instead of it being my home, my safe place, my sanctuary. I ignore the jumble of electrical wires that have replaced my stomach lining, and since I don’t really know what to do with my hands, I shove them in the pockets of my sweats, ballooning my pants out for no reason at all.
Jaeyong eyes me, gaze soft, just soft and patient and it makes me feel silly for being like this, but it’s not like I can tell the blood in my cheeks to abort mission and not make me blush like I’m a kid back in high school.
“What’s up?”
I shake my head, not even sure what to say. I shrug instead, allow myself to shuffle underneath the weight of Jaeyong’s arm, being pulled into his side, right up against his ribs.
“Ah, you’re even cuter when you’re shy.”
“Oh my God,” I huff out on a laugh, ignoring the explosion of butterflies in my stomach, the fireworks going off right next to them. “You can’t just say things like that.”
Jaeyong laughs, pressing his cheek to the top of my head as we both look at his dog, the pup having gone down on his belly, watching us with his bright blue eyes, understanding a lot more than I could give him credit for.
“I don’t know why I’m feeling shy,” I say, scrunching up the inner pockets of my sweats in my clenched fists, then let go, only to rinse and repeat. It’s easier to talk at him than to him. “I just think it has something to do with what I should be doing as your girlfriend, and how it really is.”
Jaeyong hums but doesn’t add anything else.
“Like, maybe we should be making out or something? But I’m pretty nervous about it, to be honest. Because this is all so great, but what if we totally suck at all the physical stuff, besides kissing?” I sigh, letting my pockets go, and wind my arms around Jaeyong’s waist when he pulls me in front of him. Jaeyong locks his hands at my lower back and takes a half step back so he can look down at me. I bite at my bottom lip, worried, insecure about all of this.
“Do you find me attractive?” he asks, serious face on.
I make an annoyed sound deep in my throat, leaning my head back to look at the ceiling, wanting that rando spider in the corner to bite me and give me superpowers so I can get the hell out of here quick.
“Come on!” I groan, looking back at Jaeyong. “You know you’re hot. Super hot. Inside-of-the-sun-kinda heat, okay? Shit.”
Jaeyong grins, blushing a little, and the rush of power I feel at seeing that blush is intoxicating. Wow.
“I think you’re beautiful, Raleigh-ssi. But that doesn’t mean anything, right? I’m not going to push you in any direction, I’m not going to get impatient, and I’m not going to make you feel like shit when my dick gets hard or anything like that. Shit, I’d be pissed off all the time if that happened. Have you seen you? You make me want to write songs about you.”
“Grease. The grease that is dripping out of your mouth is crazy but I’m eating it up. Keep going. Tell me how much you like me.” I’m not even ashamed to say it, watching him pull in a deep breath and launch into it like it’s a speech he’s prepared for. Knowing the old Jaeyong, this Jaeyong probably did.
“You don’t even know how much I missed you, especially those first couple of years, how lonely I was, even with the other Western kids, all of us sticking together in a strange city, far away from home, having to be adults while we were still teenagers. Shit. I was miserable more than most, you know how I was, couldn’t get my nose out of a book long enough to have a conversation unless it was about the book.” Jaeyong licks his lips, shaking his head at the memory of his old self.
“You have no idea how badly I wanted you to reach out, and when I gave up hope, when I threw myself into dance and singing and memorizing choreo until I passed out from exhaustion, years passed, and all our hard work has finally paid off, all of it, all the blood and tears, all the struggles waiting to be recognized overseas, that you’re finally here, in my path once again, like you never left. Doesn’t it feel like that to you? At all?”
I nod shakily, ignoring the burn in my throat, the swelling in my nose, the wetness in my eyeballs. I will not cry, I will not cry.
“It felt like I had a hole in my heart when I went back to school on the first day of ninth grade, thinking you’d be waiting for me in the cafeteria, and you’d have like four manga in your backpack to show off, but at the end of the day you’d let me borrow one to read anyway. Those books, they saved me, your kindness saved me.
“And this is all so real, and so new, and you’re here, and shit, you’re holding me, and you’re so beautiful that I forget how to breathe, and then you blush like that, and oh my God, your dimples, stop it.” I lean up on my toes, planting my hands on his shoulders and pressing a kiss to one dimple, wondering how many it’ll take to fill it up, have him walking around with a ready supply of my affection.
I go back down on my heels, biting at my lower lip, an inferno burning inside me when Jaeyong’s eyes shine with want as he watches my mouth, and maybe this part isn’t supposed to be hard, our signals loud and clear, both of us wanting the same thing.
“Don’t get mad at me if we suck at this,” I murmur, leaning up on my toes again, winding my arms over Jaeyong’s shoulders, fingers threading to the back of his hair, where the shortness of it is extra extra soft, like silk. This is happening, this is happening.
“But I want to kiss you. Can I?”
Jaeyong leans in, the first brush of his lips tentative, careful and patient, no pressure other than getting used to the feel of his mouth against mine, this new sensation, crossing a line that maybe was always there but completely invisible to both of us.
It’s so warm and lovely, my fingers tangling in his hair, his hands squeezing at my hips, holding me steady.
I make a noise, something between contentment and longing, kissing his bottom lip, the very one that’s been driving me crazy for weeks, months, what feels like years, swiping along it with my tongue, getting a pained groan out of him.
He hums against my mouth, the vibration flowing to me, kissing me two more times before pulling back, making my eyebrows pinch close together because I definitely wasn’t ready for our first kiss to be over.
When I open my eyes it’s to find Jaeyong’s eyes dark and intent on me, want so very clear in them, making my stomach flip and then flop, breath catching in my throat, heart thumping hard enough to leap through my chest. His cheeks are flushed, lips slick and shiny from my kiss, the tiniest bit puffier than before, reddened.
“Okay?” I ask, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.
Jaeyong’s hands squeeze at my hips, grounding me and letting me keep my balance as I settle back down on my heels on the floor. Colours swim behind my closed eyelids every single time I blink, lips tingling with the memory of his mouth on mine.
None of this feels wrong, or awkward. Okay, maybe a little awkward, but he’s looking at me like this is just right, like we would always end up here, regardless of time or space between us.
“I kinda got light-headed there for a second,” Jaeyong says, and I lean back, trying to give him room, but his grip on my hips tightens for just a second and I stop moving at his silent command. Jaeyong shakes his head as if to clear it, like a dog hit with something confusing. “I think I held my breath for a second too long.”
“Let’s go and sit, then. Unless you want to stop?”
Jaeyong’s blush goes even brighter, the tops of his ears going red, and a choked sound leaves his mouth as he whirls away and starts coughing into the crook of his elbow, spinning away from me, Haneul raising his head to assess the situation.
“No,” he croaks, eyes streaming as he struggles to breathe. He plants his hands on his hips, chest expanding and contracting with every measured breath until he’s back to normal, his face still kinda pink. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Only I would start choking on air when you talk like that, shit,” he groans, tilting his head back and taking in a deep, deep breath.
I share a glance with Haneul, ignoring the death spirals of the butterflies in my stomach, with all the swooping and diving, as I hold my hand out for him to take and have him sit down on my couch first. I watch him spread his legs wide, and I carefully move myself so I’m sitting sideways on his lap, my thighs thrown over one of his legs, my back supported by the arm of the couch. Jaeyong’s hand goes to my opposite hip and he’s squeezing me close so I don’t take a nosedive onto the floor, like the elegant queen that I am.
A hot coil winds tighter in my lower belly as I settle myself on top of him, cradled close, Jaeyong’s breath ghosting along my face, my hand at the side of his throat, feeling the leap of his pulse under my palm. It’s the physical proof that I need to know that he’s just as affected as I am, and it makes it all the sweeter now, knowing that I’m not the only one slowly losing control.
“More kisses?” I make sure to ask, flickering my gaze between Jaeyong’s face, the way his dark eyes seem to linger on my mouth, the way I lick at my lips, wanting to taste him again, needing it. “Please?”
There it is, I’m begging, and it’s not shameful to ask for what I want from Jaeyong.
He doesn’t make me feel like it’s shameful. In fact, he looks eager to give me whatever I want.
Jesus, why did he have to move away? Why did I have to wait so long for this moment?
Why?
