Archive of Our Own ^beta

Doyoung thinks of this often. 

Taeyong’s soft, sleep-rumpled shirt. Baggy on his thin frame. The tired blinks of his eyes, the gentle hand massaging his own scalp. Sat on one of their chairs. He thinks of how he’d like to tip Taeyong’s face up, up, up to the ceiling. Catch his lips on mine. Move their mouths in the slow rhythm of a morning without schedules, touch their tongues together. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen table and imagining prying Taeyong open, eating him whole— consuming. It’s 10:01 a.m. 

He’s in love. It’s too much. 

He watches Taeyong eat his bowl of white rice and fried egg, with a little bit of soy sauce and green onions and the leftover kimchi from the refrigerator. Lazy breakfast. 

There’s words at the tip of Doyoung’s tongue. Among the million and one expressions of love, there’s just one question he has. 

“Do you want me to make coffee?” 

Taeyong doesn’t look up from his food when he shakes his head. His voice must still be lost to the few hours of sleep he got last night. Doyoung heard him play his video games into the late hours. 

Doyoung reframes the question. “Do you want coffee?” 

This time, Taeyong does look up. He blinks, slow and unreserved. After some thought, he smiles. It’s small, pleased. He knows what that means. 

Doyoung stands up and walks around the table, extending a hand out to squeeze Taeyong’s shoulder once before he reaches for the coffee maker. 

*****

Taeyong makes Doyoung feel young— younger than he is, young like a boy. He loves him in a way no one else does. His family are the only ones that come close. 

Sometimes Doyoung will hold them up for comparison: his mom, who finds it overwhelmingly easy to declare how she’d die for him, for Gongmyung. His dad, who’s said he’d give away all he had if someone, irrationally, did something to his sons. He’d become destitute for them. His mother echoes the choice. 

Then there’s Taeyong, who asks for them to share a life together. Who looks at the same nursing home as the final destination for them both. Who has Doyoung’s coffee and tea and hotpot orders memorised. 

That type of love, the all-encompassing and uncomplicated kind, is something Doyoung hasn’t really ever seen outside of families. 

Taeyong loves him that way, though. And the rest of their members come close, but Taeyong’s love goes on step further. Doyoung’s love for Taeyong does, too. 

Doyoung sometimes wonders if that makes them family — they’re not partners. They’re just friends, and friends can be each other’s families. But that doesn’t feel quite right, either. Taeyong is not just a friend. He’s….

Knocking on Doyoung’s bedroom door, and peeking his head inside. It’s late, so they’re probably the only two still awake at this point.

“I thought I heard you yawning,” Taeyong whispers, walking in and closing the door behind him with a grin. 

Doyoung regards him silently from under his covers, pulled all the way up to his chin. 

“Are you watching something?” 

Doyoung raises an eyebrow, but keeps quiet. When it gets this late, he stops wanting to talk. He’s the most tired person he knows and what he likes to do when he’s really, truly settled in bed is communicate with nothing more than his eyes, which are sleepily blinking up at Taeyong right now. 

Taeyong understands what he’s trying to say, though. 

He steps closer, sinking a knee into the bed. He shoots Doyoung an imploring look. “Can I sleep here tonight?” 

They don’t do this often, but they will on occasion. 

Taeyong has a habit of keeping this to himself, but he likes being around people. He likes hugging them close. He likes physical touch. That’s why Doyoung’s always grabbing onto him at any chance he gets — hands, wrists, elbows, biceps. Taeyong practically melts under a warm touch. 

But he doesn’t often ask for it. Doyoung’s one of the exceptions to that rule, just like half of their members. And yet, between them, it’s just a little different because he has no qualms about asking Doyoung for a night spent sleeping on the same bed. 

Doyoung sighs gently through his nose. He nods. 

Taeyong does a little cheer in place and begins pulling at the duvet cover so he can burrow inside right beside Doyoung. They don’t cuddle, but they end up close enough that their arms touch, because Taeyong sometimes gets too excited when he’s coming into bed and ends up playing the part of a kid who’s just really happy to be having a sleepover with their friend. For the first time. Even when it’s far from the first time, Taeyong’s never quite rid himself of that excitedness. 

It’s one of the things Doyoung likes most about him. The childlikeness of him. He has it too, but not quite as pronouncedly, and sometimes it’s nice to be with someone who isn’t afraid of being a kid with you. 

Doyoung hits ‘play’ on his drama, which is projected up on the wall across his bed. It picks back up from where he last left off. 

Within fifteen minutes, he’s got Taeyong snoring lowly on his shoulder. And ten minutes after that, Doyoung succumbs to his own exhaustion — and the desire to rest his head atop Taeyong’s, even if just slightly, even if just a little. 

Anyway, when they wake up tomorrow, they’ll be completely untangled. They both move in their sleep. 

*****

Taeyong brings up the idea of matching rings like it’s no big deal when, really, it makes something in Doyoung feel like it’s about to come crumbling down. 

At the dressing room one day, during promotions, Doyoung tells one of their cameras, 

“Taeyong wanted to customise couple rings with me.” He brings Taeyong’s hand up to his lips to press a kiss there, and tries to ignore how Taeyong jerks in his hold. After a pause, he adds, “So I didn’t tell him my ring size.” 

Taeyong laughs around the popsicle he’s eating, and they leave it mostly at that. But they still do their typical dance, where Taeyong goes: 

“You really won’t tell me your ring size?” 

“You can figure it out yourself, hyung.” 

“Ah, come on. Seriously?” 

Doyoung goes back to his phone. 

Taeyong pushes his thigh with his foot, laughing. “Aish, seriously.” 

He lets it go soon after that. Taeyong’s got a million and one things to think about when they’re on music shows, and he knows how to compartmentalise things that don’t require his attention at that moment. 

Not that he needs to compartmentalise this. As casually as he’d brought them up, he stops asking Doyoung about them. 

Couple rings. Doyoung called them couple rings when Taeyong brought up the idea of matching rings, not couple—

In truth, Doyoung’s obsessing over them. 

They don’t talk about them again for a long time. Months go by where Taeyong fails to mention them, and Doyoung eventually realises that part of that is his fault, because he really did say he wouldn’t want to get them. It’d been a joke. He’d been taken off guard. His emotions were brimming and on the verge of overflow always, and it made it difficult to get something genuine out without spilling the rest. 

But that means he has to make a choice, which leads to what should be a nondescript Monday night at the dorms. 

“I got you something,” Doyoung says, aiming for nonchalant as he enters Taeyong’s room with two bags held behind his back. 

Taeyong swivels around on his desk chair, pulling his headphones down. Despite the game still going on in his computer, he looks up at him immediately.

“What is it?” 

Without wasting a moment, Doyoung thrusts the small, red Cartier bags out into the open. Taeyong, not knowing any better, curiously takes the bag Doyoung presents to him without standing on ceremony. He sees the ring box inside and still it doesn’t sink in that this is the ring, he just smiles and wonders out loud, “What is this?”

Then he’s opening the box and— 

“Doyoung-ah,” Taeyong exhales. He shakes his head, looking down in awe at the box in his hands. “This is too much.” 

Doyoung’s heart pumps hard in his chest, so hard he can feel it in his throat. “Take it or leave it, hyung.” 

When Taeyong looks back up at him, he stares like he’s really trying to peer into Doyoung. Get a sense of him. Try to decipher this for what it is. For a moment, Doyoung is terrified of what he’ll find. 

He doesn’t need to worry though, because all Taeyong does is rise up from his chair to envelop Doyoung in a half-hug. 

They’ve hugged more this year than they have in the years prior, and, with enough practice, they’ve managed to make a hug feel more natural and less stilted. 

And yet this hug feels a little like it used to, when they still didn’t know what to do with it. Unsure and almost half-assed, if it wasn’t for the sincerity they both pour into it. Taeyong holds Doyoung close by wrapping an arm around his shoulders, then using a fist to push them chest-to-chest. It’s manly, in a way. No less personal. 

When they part, Taeyong takes his ring out and slips it on his finger. It’s a little loose. 

But he doesn’t call attention to that. He nods at Doyoung’s matching bag. “Let me see yours.” 

Doyoung takes his box out and opens it for Taeyong to see. He customised the rings as much as he could. One gold, one silver. He thought it matched them. Before debut, they’d gotten colour analyses done and those were the jewellery colours that stuck for each of them. 

Doyoung puts his on and they compare their hands, rings on index fingers. Taeyong tilts his hand this way and that, then pushes his ring right next to Doyoung’s, so they clink when they touch. 

Taeyong smiles. “Thank you, Doyoungie.” 

Doyoung shakes his head, feels the need to say, “I was always going to get them.” 

“You were?” 

Doyoung nods. “I just needed some time to think about which ones we’d like.” 

When Taeyong smiles this time, it’s brighter than before, like he’s really grateful for him. For the thoughtfulness behind that. 

Doyoung doesn’t tell him that it took him so long to find rings he thought were appropriate because he’d freaked out about the matching rings first, then went down a rabbit hole of engagement ring searches, had a meltdown, and had to finally pull himself back out of that with a hard yank. 

Taeyong doesn’t need to know that part. It’s enough that their rings are on both their hands now. 

It took Doyoung three days to gather up the courage to give Taeyong his. All the while, the Cartier bags have sat in the back of his closet. 

“Okay,” Taeyong claps his hands together gleefully. He gestures for Doyoung to sit on the bed. “You need to tell me how you picked them out.” 

Inwardly, Doyoung sighs. He was prepared for this. He has an abbreviated version at the ready — one where his feelings are taken out of the equation. 

*****

Contrary to popular opinion, Doyoung’s not jealous of Byun Baekhyun. 

That’s his hyung and his sunbae, and a most-admired and respected colleague. Doyoung hopes to cultivate even just half of Baekhyun’s vocal prowess. He thinks Baekhyun’s fun to be around, funny, and just… a nice guy overall. Doyoung’s never had any reason to think badly of him. 

And he still doesn’t, it’s just— 

In the next room over, Doyoung hears Taeyong burst out into laughter so loud he ends up shouting a little when he says, 

“Baekhyun, no!” 

They’ve been playing one of their multiplayer PC games for the past three hours or so. Doyoung went to the convenience store for snacks and came back and Taeyong’s only gotten louder. 

He’s come out of his room just once, to go to the bathroom. He saw Doyoung as he was on his way out the door, and all he did was wave at him distractedly. Dismissively. 

So Doyoung’s not jealous. He’s miffed. 

That’s what has him marching over to Taeyong’s bedroom door and knocking twice in firm, quick succession before stepping through. Taeyong looks back when he hears his door opening, but it’s just a quick glance, not enough to count. 

He’s wearing that low v-neck cardigan that shows off his collarbones, and his very short shorts. The ones he only wears around the dorms because they’re only appropriate for sleep. He throws his head back and laughs again at something Baekhyun says in his headphones, baring the long line of his throat. 

Doyoung thinks about sinking his fingers into the skin of Taeyong’s thigh and watching how it dimples under his touch. Or, better yet, his throat. That’s one of those thoughts he usually keeps well-hidden — only acceptable for a late night where he’s desperate and alone. 

But he’s miffed. 

The only thing that comforts him is that Taeyong always keeps his video off when he plays. No one’s privy to what he looks like now, when he’s undone like this. Only Doyoung, and Johnny and Haechan and their manager.

With another glance back at Doyoung, Taeyong takes hold of his headphones and says into the mic, “I’ll be right back. Pause the game for me?” 

Baekhyun’s reply is audible and tinny in the room when Taeyong finally takes his headphones off. He looks back at Doyoung. “What’s up?” 

Doyoung contemplates leaving right through where he came from and wrapping himself in his bed covers. Whatever’s about to come out of his mouth now is going to sound petty, and Doyoung knows it. He can feel it on the tip of his tongue. 

Still, he says through a gritted smile, “Can you keep it down, hyung?” 

Taeyong’s eyes grow wide and apologetic. “Oh, sorry. I’ll keep it down. Didn’t know I was being so loud.” He looks down at his digital clock and winces. “I know you had a call with your Japanese teacher.” 

That, somehow, manages to make Doyoung feel worse. He did have a Japanese lesson, but that was an hour ago. Taeyong must not know that. That’s not the reason Doyoung’s in Taeyong’s bedroom now, kicking up a fuss. 

“It’s fine,” Doyoung says. He shifts his feet where he stands beside the door. “Sorry, I know you’re busy—”

“Wait, Doyoung-ah.” Taeyong stops. He bites down on his lip and scratches at his forearm. “Is something wrong? You’re sure I didn’t bother you too much?” 

Doyoung and Taeyong look at each other across the room, Taeyong’s bed and clothes and bookshelf filled with figurines and his Nintendo Switch between them. The red Cartier bag is sitting on Taeyong’s desk, closest to him. 

Doyoung shakes his head, smiling. He forces his shoulders to loosen up. “No, hyung. You’re fine. Have fun, hm?” 

Taeyong hums back, and Doyoung doesn’t see how his eyes follow his retreating back as he exits the room, but he feels his gaze on his back. 

Doyoung walks back to his bedroom and lowers himself down on his bed. He fires up his computer, connected already to the projector, and starts up a movie. 

He sighs. 

Doyoung hates when he gets like this — miffed, and a tiny bit jealous. He can admit it in the silence and safety of his own thoughts. Can admit to his possessiveness. 

Sometimes Doyoung feels like he can’t compare to Baekhyun. That, no matter what he does, something happened during SuperM’s world tour and it didn’t create distance between Taeyong and him, but it brought Taeyong and Baekhyun close. Closer still. Close enough that everyone’s noticed how much Taeyong likes spending time with him. 

Sometimes Doyoung wonders what happened between them that Taeyong came back home only to be so enamoured with Baekhyun he sometimes can't see past it. 

But that’s not fair, and it’s a little cruel to say. To think. 

Doyoung sighs through his nose, reaching for his laptop so he can press pause on the movie and rub at his eyes. He doesn’t want to be this way with anyone, and especially not Taeyong. He deserves more respect from Doyoung than that. 

Besides, it’s not like Doyoung can or should be jealous over this. He has no right. As far as he knows, Baekhyun and Taeyong are nothing more than friends, either. 

But maybe that’s the problem — Doyoung and Baekhyun are on equal ground. 

Doyoung sinks back into bed and presses ‘play’. He resolves to think nothing more of this. 

Later, Taeyong comes into Doyoung’s room with two mugs of tea. He smiles sheepishly for some reason, like he’s making up for something. 

He nods at Doyoung’s bed, “Got room for one more?” 

And Doyoung is weak. He’s glad. He just nods, scooting over so Taeyong can sit under the covers beside him and hand him his mug. 

They watch one episode of Doyoung’s favourite drama at the moment (Sky Castle), and then one Studio Ghibli movie (From Up on Poppy Hill) because Taeyong insisted Doyoung was missing out for not watching it before. They don’t leave bed until it’s dinnertime and their manager's calling them out to the kitchen to get some food. 

It’s the first time in a long while since Taeyong’s been this still, for this long. 

*****

Taeyong loves him to the point of being made humble by it.

Doyoung realised it not too long ago, but he hasn’t really been able to let go of the revelation ever since. 

The thing about Doyoung is that he overextends himself in love — not negatively, because it’s never too much. He just prefers to give more than he receives. Call it a way to repay how much love he already gets from fans and friends and family. If he can even return just a little more than what they give him, he counts that as a win. 

Taeyong makes giving more than he gets a challenge.

Out of all their friends, Taeyong is the loudest and the most single-minded about proclaiming his love for people. When he understands he’s loved, he speaks of his own love with enough ease and quickness for others to get the sense he’s filled by it. How often does an adult speak of love like a child, unafraid and sure of its truth? Taeyong does because it’s reciprocated, and he knows it. 

Even when he thinks it isn’t — even when the world seems against him, and even when Taeyong himself thinks he’s lacking; he can trust he’s loved. 

Doyoung makes sure he knows it. 

That’s why it’s so easy for Taeyong to love Doyoung in public. When the cameras are off, it’s Doyoung who’s louder, more bold — he’ll stand in the kitchen while Taeyong cooks just to be fed bites to eat, just to compliment Taeyong for every single taste. He’ll go out to bakeries and bring back sweet cakes only for Taeyong, no one else. He’ll call to Taeyong over and over again: to ask him a question, to show him a video, to reprimand him for something, to remind him of something else, to say everything and nothing at all. He’ll sit in the dark with him and wipe his tears away. Listen to all his demos. Songwrite with him. Be honest with him. Stay when he needs someone to remain most. 

That’s who Doyoung is off-camera. But in front of the cameras, it’s Taeyong who says all those things, including the ones that Doyoung’s too shy to say back. 

“Our Doyoungie’s so pretty,” Taeyong tells the camera. He lifts up the album to show a page filled with pictures of Doyoung’s face. “So pretty.” 

Doyoung ignores Taeyong’s words and ignores his beating heart. 

Later, it’s— 

“He sings so well, and he has so much passion,” Taeyong tells an interviewer. He looks back at where Doyoung sits on the second row. “His voice is my favourite.”

It doesn’t—it’s not a surprise. Taeyong’s told him that before. When they were still trainees, Taeyong would take Doyoung aside and ask him to sing the vocals for all of his original pieces. He asked him if he wanted to practise songwriting with him, because this way they could make something together. Something to share. 

Doyoung’s voice is Taeyong’s favourite. 

Doyoung will never know how he can say that in front of the cameras. The farthest he’s gotten is talking about how beautiful Taeyong is, but that doesn’t count. Everyone with working eyes can see it. 

Maybe that’s just the way they are. Maybe this is how they love. Doyoung tries not to overthink it. 

*****

“Where’s your ring?” 

Taeyong hums, looking over at Doyoung from where he’s pulling on his jacket. They’re heading out to get coffees for the dorm. “Oh, it’s in my room. Why?” 

Doyoung debates with himself for a moment about it, but—

“You should put it on,” Doyoung says. “We should wear it. Look, I’m wearing mine.” He lifts his hand up for Taeyong to see. 

Easy as anything, Taeyong nods and smiles. He toes off his sneakers and goes back into his bedroom in search of his own ring. 

The way he does that, sometimes…. Doyoung tries not to take advantage, but sometimes Taeyong listens to him so well it makes something swell in his chest. He knows he’s called Taeyong his kid, has said he takes care of him. But this goes beyond that. 

Or maybe it’s just in Doyoung’s mind, that difference. Maybe it doesn’t exist anywhere else. 

Taeyong comes back into the hallway with his hand thrust out, his ring on his thumb because it’s too big and despite Doyoung promising that he’d go get the size adjusted, Taeyong refuses to part with it. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

They go get coffee. 

*****

And then Taeyong’s making fun of Doyoung on Vlive, talking all about this self-proclaimed jealousy triangle they’ve found themselves in with Baekhyun. 

Doyoung’s trying not to lose it, but he’s never been able to keep his cool about this. Not about the people that matter most. He’s never been a casual guy — he’s lucky if he can find the words to speak about his love at all. The weight of it weighs his tongue down. 

Then Taeyong mentions how he’s told Baekhyun he’s closest to Doyoung. And—

“Well, when he asked you why we’re closest, what did you say?” 

“Do you need a reason to be close to someone?” Taeyong asks him, playful and laughing. Doyoung knows the answer is no because he gets it. He knows what Taeyong means. 

They don’t really talk about jealousy in the same sentence as Baekhyun, after that. 

*****

It’s the second time all of NCT gets together like this. With new units and new members coming together at the same time, Doyoung watches helplessly as Taeyong is tugged in six different directions all at once — and is even more helpless to tag along, once Taeyong gives him the look. 

The one that says: we’re in this together. What’s mine is yours. Help me. 

So Doyoung helps Taeyong prepare. 

With NCT 127, it’s different. Being Taeyong’s pseudo co-leader is easy because everyone knows them well enough to know what dynamic is there. They tease Doyoung because he’s easy, they don’t tease Taeyong because he has a million things to worry about, and the arrangement Doyoung and Taeyong have in this is not scrutinised because it’s now commonplace. The members know them well enough to not question it. 

But with fourteen other people in the mix, suddenly Doyoung and Taeyong become TaeyongandDoyoung, said in the same breath. 

“Let hyung help you, Shotaro,” Taeyong says in the recording studio, standing up from the couch he and Doyoung are sharing with Sungchan. He and Taeyong are sitting in on Shotaro’s and Sungchan’s first recording sessions with the purpose of coaching and supervising. 

Or, Taeyong’s coaching. Doyoung’s supervising. 

Taeyong creeps in close to the mic on the mixing table, giving Shotaro careful directions about his intonation. It’s cool watching them both work. If they had someone on vocals, that’d be Doyoung on the mic. 

Sungchan imperceptibly leans over, whispering, “Doyoung hyung.” 

Doyoung breaks his gaze from Taeyong’s back. “Hm?” 

“I know Taeyong’s the leader, but are you also?” 

Doyoung huffs out a laugh. “Kind of. I’m just here for moral support.” 

Sungchan ahh’s, and that’s that. 

Or, at least, that’s that until Make A Wish promotions begin and Doyoung realises how this dynamic is panning out. It’s for the long-term. He’s started bossing around Jaehyun, too, even without meaning to. 

Jaemin’s the first to call him out for it. They’re rehearsing for a Music Core pre-recording and Doyoung is doling out advice to Shotaro and Xiaojun. With an eyebrow raised and smile wide, he asks, “Mom, got any advice for me? Or should I ask dad?” 

Jaehyun guffaws from where he stands. Doyoung looks helplessly to Taeyong for backup, but Taeyong’s too busy smirking to say anything, which just means the ‘mom’ jokes are going to persist — not just within NCT 127, but now in the wider group, too. 

Some things you can’t hide, Doyoung supposes. 

*****

“That looks really good on you, hyung,” Doyoung says. He meets Taeyong’s eyes in the mirror. “Really pretty.” 

He watches a slow, red blush creep up Taeyong’s neck and onto his ears. Surely his cheeks must be red too, but under the makeup, Doyoung can’t see it. He’d be hot to the touch, though. Doyoung’s fingers twitch where they hold his phone up to his face. 

They’re in the dressing room; Doyoung’s getting his hair done by their stylist noona and Taeyong’s standing right next to him, fixing the pearl earring and bandana the stylists gave him to wear. 

He’s got glitter all over his eyes and he looks, well, he looks—

“Doyoung-ah,” Taeyong whines, laughing. It’s one of his breathy, giggly ones, which means that Doyoung’s really gotten to him now. 

Doyoung scoffs playfully. The stylist noona laughs at them. “Don’t act like you don't know. I’m not gonna say it again.” 

In the back, Jaehyun laughs at them from the couch. He’s been staring at his phone all this while, but now he looks up at them as if to say, really? Here, now? 

And Doyoung doesn’t really know what to say to that. Can’t he compliment Taeyong if he feels like it? He’s always done it, even if those moments are sparse and few between. But… he understands Jaehyun too. 

He’s said more since getting Taeyong their rings. They’ve become closer. More affectionate, less likely to fight.  As Taeyong finishes adjusting his hair and the bandana around it, his ring — the gold partner to Doyoung’s silver — glints under the overhead lights of the dressing room. Doyoung runs his thumbs over his own ring absentmindedly. 

Taeyong looks down at Doyoung’s hands, then up again. He catches Doyoung’s eye. He smiles. 

Something small and soft and squishy makes its way into Doyoung’s chest, and he thinks he must now be the one blushing. 

Maybe he should get Taeyong more rings. Maybe he should make him laugh that giggle of his more. Maybe he should pay him more compliments. 

Doyoung doesn’t realise how much Taeyong glows from receiving a genuine compliment until years later, and, by then, he’s paid him so many compliments that he thinks their magnitude is reduced. But for Taeyong, it’s still the same. He feels them just the same. 

*****

When Ruby dies, Taeyong is inconsolable. At first, he doesn’t tell anyone why. 

He comes back from a last-minute visit to his family with his eyes cast downward and a sluggishness to his movements that both Johnny and Doyoung notice as soon as he’s back in the dorm and the door’s shut behind him. 

They don’t press for details. They never do. They don’t feel the need to, because Taeyong shares things so willingly with everyone in his life. 

Then days go by, and still nothing. 

Before bed, Doyoung stops by Taeyong’s room with a soft knock. When he enters, he sees Taeyong on his desk, pouring over Facebook pictures. He doesn’t look back at Doyoung until Doyoung’s standing right over his shoulder, and can see that it’s photos upon photos of Ruby. 

Doyoung presses his knuckles to the back on Taeyong’s neck, an intimate gesture he’s never acted upon. But the moment is so still, and Taeyong looks so sad, and now Doyoung thinks he knows why. 

When he lifts up his head, Taeyong’s eyes are shiny with tears. He sniffles, wiping his fingers under his nose. In this, he’s always been a little careless about cleanliness. 

Doyoung leans down so he can wrap Taeyong in a hug that ends up with Doyoung’s arms mostly around Taeyong’s head, and Taeyong’s forehead pressed to Doyoung’s stomach. 

“She died this weekend,” Taeyong whispers. “She was really old.” 

“Taeyongie hyung,” Doyoung sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

They hug until Taeyong breaks away, wiping the remnants of his tears away. Doyoung steps back to give him some space. 

That night, Taeyong goes to sleep in Doyoung’s bed, in his room. The bed’s not big enough for them to move around, so Taeyong burrows close to the wall. But Doyoung knows him well and he knows he does it in part because of the lack of space, but also because he feels safest surrounded on all sides. 

Doyoung stays awake for some time, thinking. He thinks about how much Taeyong loved Ruby, how he grew up with her, what she meant to him. He thinks about the new tattoo of her he has on his arm. 

Weeks later, when Doyoung turns up to the dorms with a necklace of Ruby’s tattoo, Taeyong hugs him so hard and for so long Doyoung wishes, just for a moment, that he wouldn’t let go. But when he does, he gives Doyoung a look so grateful that Doyoung’s heart tumbles to the ground in a moment of the most humbling expression of love Doyoung’s ever seen.

He is made humble by it, too. 

*****

All of a sudden, an injury grows worse and that means Taeyong can’t perform. 

It’s a disappointment in more ways than one. It means they don’t have a centre for the majority of their performances. It means Taeyong is in pain. It means Doyoung’s about to perform Light Bulb without Taeyong. That song is theirs. It doesn’t seem fair. 

Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind, though, if his good mood is any sign to that. Doyoung takes to calling him every evening after work, late enough that both of them should be sleeping, but instead they talk and talk for an hour that then turns into two and a half. 

“And they just don’t listen!” Doyoung runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know how you deal with this.” 

Taeyong laughs until he wipes tears from his eyes. Doyoung enjoys these calls because he gets to let go of all his frustration of the day, filling in Taeyong’s role, but Taeyong enjoys it even more. He gets a kick out of seeing how someone else handles it. Or, maybe it’s just because it’s Doyoung. 

Taeyong hums, “Want me to talk to them? You can put me on call and I’ll scold them for you.” 

“No, don’t do that. You’re supposed to rest.” 

“Imagine the look on their faces, though. You should connect me to the stereo so they hear my voice all over the practice room. They’ll never get the choreo wrong again.” 

Doyoung shoots Taeyong an unimpressed look. “You’re bad, but you’re not that bad. That won’t scare them.” 

“Okay,” Taeyong sing-songs. “Whatever you say.” 

They look at each other in silence for a moment. Doyoung starts picking at a loose thread on his sweater when Taeyong smiles at him, face pixelated over the video. He’s staying with his family for his recovery. Doyoung wonders how well he’s taking care of himself. 

“We’ll miss you at the concert,” Doyoung admits.

Immediately, Taeyong senses the change in tone in Doyoung’s voice — the one that’s more uncomfortable than comfortable, more insecure than secure. 

Taeyong smiles. “You’ll do great. I believe in you guys.” 

“Yeah, but,” Doyoung stops. He and Taeyong have talked about a million and one things, so this one shouldn’t be hard for him. But Taeyong’s said nothing about it so far. Maybe Doyoung would only be adding insult to inju— “It’s just, we’ll perform Light Bulb without you.” 

Taeyong sighs through his nose, stretching his limbs out carefully. He shoots Doyoung a playful look. “You mean Switch Off?”

“Yeah.” 

“We can sing it together whenever you want. We can sing it together right now.” 

“Don’t be stupid, you know what I mean.”

“Doyoungie, seriously,” Taeyong says. “That song is for us. But you guys will do great. I don’t want you to feel burdened because I’m not there.” 

“That’s not—” Doyoung sighs. Sometimes he thinks Taeyong acts dense on purpose. “Forget it, hyung. What are you guys eating tonight?” 

They end the call soon after that, and a week later, the concert comes and goes. They perform without a hitch. It’s disorienting not having Taeyong with them, but it’s not as bad as Doyoung thought it would be. Light Bulb is not nearly so painful. He loves singing it, so he sings. 

After the concert, Doyoung goes live on Instagram. He’s in the car with Yuta and their manager, and they’re talking about how it went, and it’s all so normal, except he still feels like his mind is elsewhere and here at the same time, so, 

He passes a hand over his face, fixing a strand of hair. Then, he presses the ghost of a kiss on his ring. 

Doyoung doesn’t think about it much until he sees the clips making their way on social media. By then, it’s days later, but if Doyoung’s seen it, that means Taeyong has too. 

He doesn’t mention it, or, at least to his face. But Doyoung knows that if Taeyong won’t speak about this to Doyoung, he won’t mention it to anyone else. 

Things always go unspoken between them first, not anyone else. 

*****

They’re tussling on the living room sofa because Taeyong won’t give up the remote control. The TV blares out Doyoung’s own voice back at him, reciting lines from a script long-memorised. 

Doyoung’s face burns. Taeyong laughs. The rest of the members aren’t here yet, probably because they’d agreed to watch Doyoung’s drama at a later time, and Taeyong still pressed play on the first episode because he wanted a sneak preview. Or maybe he just wanted to push Doyoung’s buttons, like he always does.

They’ll be here any minute now, though. Johnny and Haechan went upstairs to help the rest with snacks. 

Taeyong coos, craning his neck where he’s laid across the sofa to look at the screen. “Doyoung-ah, your co-star’s so pretty. You look so nervous!” 

Without thinking, Doyoung gives up on the remote and grabs at Taeyong’s wrists, struggling for a moment to hold them and then, after adjusting them so his fingers have a proper hold of warm skin, he pins them down against the leather seats. His breath heaves. Taeyong suddenly looks up and they lock eyes. 

Doyoung doesn’t look down to the rest of him; he really doesn’t. It’s just that, out of his periphery, he can see how Taeyong holds himself very, very still. Breath gone. His face is blank as if frozen that way. He cocks his head to the side just enough that Doyoung notices the change.

Their stares hold for several moments too long. It’s difficult to get themselves to move. Doyoung is acutely aware of his knee in between Taeyong’s thighs, dangerously close to his crotch because he’s hovering right over him. He needs to be — if he’s to hold Taeyong’s wrists down in this way. 

Taeyong takes a deep, deep breath in. His chest rises up like it wants to meet Doyoung’s own body halfway. 

It’s just wishful thinking. Doyoung licks his lips. 

Then the front door clicks open, and a gaggle of voices fills the charged silence between them. 

Doyoung springs away as if burned. 

Jungwoo rounds the corner to the living room, eyes going straight for the TV and not the sofa, where Doyoung’s standing on his knees as Taeyong moves to lean up on his elbows. He looks like nothing’s happened. Maybe it didn’t. 

“Oh, what,” Jungwoo whines. “Did you start the episode without us? Hyung, you can’t do that.” 

Taeyong looks at Jungwoo. He shrugs, smiling. Casual as ever. “I was just teasing Doyoungie.” 

At that, they look back at each other, and Doyoung remembers to get off the couch and give Taeyong his space. He goes into the kitchen to help everyone else unload the food. 

The rest of the night is spent with his friends making fun of him and congratulating him in equal bounds. At some point, Taeyong pats his back and tells him he did a good job, and it’s brotherly enough to erase the earlier part of the evening from Doyoung’s mind even if for just a moment. 

*****

Someone should have told Doyoung that acting in Marie Antoinette was going to yield some of the most ridiculous situations in his professional (maybe also personal?) life. 

First, it’s Johnny printing the promotional pictures of Doyoung as Fersen and taping them on their refrigerator. Then, it’s Donghyuck and Taeil breaking out into opera every time he walks into a room. It’s Jaehyun playing romantic songs whenever they’re chilling in the dorms, and it’s Jungwoo promising he’ll be front row and centre so he can make faces at Doyoung in the middle of his performance, and it’s Taeyong—

“Do they know about the…” Taeyong trails off. He puckers his lips. 

It’s literally his own birthday Vlive so Doyoung doesn’t know why he’s bringing this back around to him. 

He scoffs, “What’s gotten into you?” 

Taeyong twists around on the couch, grabbing onto his pillow with the cartoon face. He closes his eyes and mimes kissing it. 

“You need to practise!” Taeyong exclaims, holding on to the plushie. What he means to say goes unsaid, but Doyoung can read between the lines — you wouldn’t want the fans thinking you’re a bad kisser. 

“You’re so weird,” Doyoung says. The back of his neck is prickling with warmth. He feels flustered and he doesn’t know why. Taeyong’s literally digging his own hole, not Doyoung’s. “Why are you so interested in that?” 

It’s a harmless, playful question. It sends Doyoung’s heart jack-hammering in his chest. Sometimes he says things without thinking. 

Which, evidently, is something Taeyong also does. He twists his body around some more, making his eyes huge and round to look up at Doyoung as he says, “Honestly, I’m so interested in you.” 

Doyoung pauses. They look at each other. 

“Don’t be obsessed,” Doyoung says. 

“Ah,” Taeyong replies. “Sorry.” 

They go back to other topics after that, but Doyoung keeps thinking about that moment well into the night. 

He thinks about Taeyong, who’s still so innocent when he’s with Doyoung. When he’s with people he feels safe with, really. People who let him be who he is. That entire conversation felt like something you’d hear from a ten-year-old.

Doyoung knows Taeyong’s the youngest person in his family, and that it translates even here, as one of the oldest and as their leader. He knows it because despite being his hyung, Doyoung takes care of him like he’s the one who’s older. 

But he knows it’s not just that. Doyoung can’t remember the last time Taeyong was in a relationship with someone — something serious, or even just a constant for a few months. Did his first love in high school count, the one he experienced before they’d even met?

Taeyong reveals himself when it comes to teasing his friends on things related to love, to the physicality of it. How can someone who loves so loudly be so inexperienced in it? 

Doyoung thinks about Taeyong’s honestly, i’m so interested in you and stifles a laugh against his bedsheets. 

He wonders, if he kissed Taeyong now, would it be clumsy? Messy? Would their noses knock against each other’s, and—

Doyoung stomps down on that line of thinking. He rolls over and wills himself to go to sleep. 

*****

They’re in Gapyeong and they’re sharing a bed, but they don’t plan on it. The cameras don’t catch it. 

It starts when Taeyong worms his way in between Johnny, Jungwoo, and Doyoung — all three sharing a room, sleeping mats and blankets tossed on the floor. Taeyong comes in when the cameras are still on, wriggling around in his sleeping bag and joking about staying here with them. 

Doyoung knows how he gets when the nine of them are away, together. Taeyong doesn’t want to miss a single moment with anyone. 

But four people on the floor is too much, even for Jungwoo and Johnny, who love Taeyong and dote on him and are sweet to him even when they don’t need to be. 

Doyoung’s the first to say something about it, because he always is. He stands up from the floor, ignores the questioning noise Jungwoo and Taeyong throw his way, and grabs at Taeyong’s wrist, tugging him up. 

“Hyung, let’s go back to your room,” Doyoung says. Then, looking back at Johnny and Jungwoo, he tells them, “We’ll see you guys in the morning.” 

Taeyong protests just a little, looking back over his shoulder as they leave the room and travel through the house until they arrive at Taeyong’s assigned (and hard-won) bedroom. His bag is open on the bed, clothes spilling out, so Doyoung grabs Taeyong’s things and deposits them on the dresser across from them. 

He turns off the overhead lights, nudging the door closed. 

“Doyoung?” 

“Hyung, it’s past one in the morning,” Doyoung tells him, voice groggy. He pulls Taeyong down on the bed with him. They kick off the covers so they can get under them, and then they lay there beside each other, looking up at the ceiling. 

“I didn’t want to sleep alone.” 

“I know, hyung.” 

“I know you know.” 

“Good thing you do.” 

“Yeah.” Taeyong pauses to breathe in deeply. Doyoung closes his eyes. “Sometimes I think about how we’re not gonna have this forever, you know?” 

Doyoung hums. 

“I just don’t want to miss out on anything with you guys.” 

“You won’t,” Doyoung replies. “It’s no bother. We just needed to go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day of filming.” 

“Yeah…” 

That ‘yeah’ sounds insecure to Doyoung. It propels him forward, extending his hand out blindly under the sheets so he can grab onto Taeyong’s bony wrist. It’s always been so small. He thinks he’s memorised the grooves of it by now. He’s held onto it that much. 

“Go to sleep, Yong-ah. So you won’t miss out on anything tomorrow.” 

Taeyong huffs out a laugh, and Doyoung’s lips quirk up. That’s what he was aiming for. 

In just a few minutes, they’re both asleep. 

He didn’t know it then, but this is the last time Doyoung and Taeyong sleep in the same bed for a long, long time. 

*****

Moving out of the dorms is simultaneously the hardest and easiest thing Doyoung has ever done. 

He’s been thinking about it for a while. He’s saved up enough, and spent enough on things like cars for himself and his parents, clothes and jewellery and gifts and restaurants, that it feels like the next logical step forward. Call it real estate investment. He knows he still has the dorm to turn to if ever he needs it. 

The group throws him a goodbye get-together. They all gather in their fifth floor living room, beer and soju bottles opened and snacks strewn around the coffee table. Doyoung’s made everyone promise that they’ll clean up well so their ahjumma doesn’t have to work too hard tomorrow. 

Taeyong backs him up on that. (And also promises that he’ll do a last clean-up after everyone’s gone back to their own rooms, just because he wants to. Doyoung will miss that about him. Who else will nag him about the state of their home like Taeyong does?). 

It’s a good night. Doyoung has fun, and even if everyone fake-cries and acts like they won’t miss him, he knows they will. 

Before they go to sleep, Johnny stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He tugs him in for a hug that’s so gentle Doyoung feels his chest tingle with it. 

“We’ll miss having you around, Doyoung-ah,” Johnny tells him. “Visit us often, hm?” 

“Hyung,” Doyoung laughs, touched. “I’ll only be twenty minutes away.” 

“Yeah, in your nice new house with views of the river. Don’t forget about us little people.” 

Doyoung rolls his eyes and lets Johnny pat his butt twice before he lets him go with a grin. Donghyuck comes around the corner to give him a parting hug, too. He rocks them side to side, whining loud enough that it doesn’t feel appropriate for the night hour. 

“Promise you’ll give me a spare key.” 

“I’m not doing that.” 

“Please.” 

“You can knock on the door like a normal person.” Doyoung hugs Donghyuck tighter to him. “You know I’ll answer.” 

Donghyuck blows out a breath, “Fine.” 

When they pull away, and Donghyuck leaves to his room with Johnny, Doyoung walks back out to the living room. Taeyong’s standing by the window, looking out at the full moon. He’s holding a spray bottle in one hand and a rag in the other, because he wanted to wipe down the tables. 

Doyoung joins in beside him. 

“Ready for tomorrow?” 

Doyoung nods. “You should go to sleep. You promised you’d help.” 

Taeyong sighs heavily, like a burden. “I guess.” 

“What, you don’t want to, now?” 

“I know you only asked me to because I’m so strong, but maybe I should just be there for moral support. I can supervise.” 

“As if,” Doyoung scoffs. He bumps shoulders with him. “You said you’d move boxes just like everyone else.” 

Taeyong shrugs, pretending like he didn’t hear him. They stand there for a moment longer in silence, and when it becomes clear Taeyong’s not calling it a night quite yet, Doyoung bids him goodnight first. 

“Goodnight, hyung.” 

“Good night, Doyoung-ah.” A pause. “See you tomorrow.” 

Doyoung hums. 

As he lies down on his bed one last time, Doyoung doesn’t think about how he’ll miss knowing Johnny and Haechan and Taeyong and their manager are only one door away. He might even miss the snoring, and the hogging of the shower when everyone’s tired, and the mornings without schedules where they can all just spend it with one another before they break off for the day. 

Sharing a space with people he loves is not all bad. Doyoung will miss it. 

But he also knows this will be good for him. It’ll be a new thing to be proud about — he bought himself a house. More than that, he’ll learn to live by himself. Without a manager, without anyone to cook or clean or remind him to do his laundry. It’ll be just him. 

And as he cycles through his move, unloading his kitchen appliances and bowls and mugs and utensils and making space for his bed and sofa and brand-new furniture (some of it gifted), he also thinks this degree of separation from those he loves will be good for him. Or, maybe just Taeyong. 

It’s a fortunate thing, he tries to remind himself as night falls and it’s only his breath he hears all around. It can be a time and place where Doyoung can get away from his lovesickness that doesn’t seem to ever go away. He can find what he can do to lessen the love, or maybe just lessen the hurt of it. Whichever comes first. 

Doyoung doesn’t move away because of Taeyong. It’s ridiculous to even think of it like that. But he also knows they’ve lived together almost as long as they’ve known each other. Doyoung’s home has included Taeyong in it for that amount of time — six years. And that’s a long time. It’s a lot of time to spend glued to someone’s side. 

Doyoung can’t help but wonder whether, now that some of their proximity has gone, his feelings might mellow out.

As he goes around the house turning off all the lights before climbing into bed, he doesn’t know what would be worse. For his feelings to leave just that easily, or for them to remain. 

*****

His feelings don’t mellow out. 

After Doyoung moves out of the dorms, it’s like he starts a chain reaction. Johnny moves to an apartment up in Gangnam, then Taeil, then Jungwoo, then Mark and Haechan rent a place together, then Yuta and Jaehyun and Taeyong. 

Taeyong gets a place twenty-five minutes away from Doyoung — in a high-rise apartment overlooking the other side of the Han river. He texts Doyoung his new address on KakaoTalk, asking him: 

Won’t you stop by with a gift? >.< 

Naturally, Doyoung does. 

He greets Taeyong at the door of his new place with a bottle of wine and his actual gift in a box he hauled into the building all by himself. Taeyong laughs when he sees him struggling under its weight. 

The gift is a handmade rug in the shape of a CD. Taeyong loves it. Doyoung knows him well enough to nail it every time. 

“You always give such good gifts,” Taeyong complains as he opens up the wine bottle and Doyoung opens the takeout containers of food Taeyong had delivered a few minutes ago. They arrange the food and drinks around Taeyong’s (spotless) kitchen island. 

“It’s because I know you well.” 

“I know you well too but I don’t give you such good gifts.” 

Doyoung shrugs. “You do other things.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like ask me to bring you housewarming gifts,” Doyoung replies. He ushers Taeyong to take a seat on the counter. “And then ordering dinner.” 

“I didn’t want to cook,” Taeyong sighs. 

“So you ordered from my favourite restaurant?” 

“Is this your favourite restaurant?” Taeyong sing-songs, acting coy. “Yeah. I wanted to make up for not having dinner ready.” 

“But you do have dinner ready.” 

“Don’t contradict me.” 

“You’re contradicting yourself.” 

Taeyong sticks out his tongue, and Doyoung rolls his eyes in response. 

They spend the night so casually that it feels like no time at all has passed since they last shared a meal together at home. Taeyong’s place is cosy despite the sparse furniture and the few moving boxes he’s yet to unload. There’s plants of every type near the window, which overlooks half of the city. It must be nice seeing the sunrise from here. They’re so high up. 

“Why’d you choose this place?” Doyoung asks once they’ve finished eating and are standing beside each other on the sink, one washing dishes and the other drying them. 

“I don’t know,” Taeyong shrugs. “It’s close to everything. Especially to work. It was at a good price, and my sister thought the view was cool.” 

“Did you think it was cool?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Taeyong breathes in deeply. He smiles. “I’m happy with it. I like that I get to decorate it how I like.” 

Doyoung hums.

“Hey, do you want to see my shoe wall?” 

“Wall? How many more shoes did you buy?” 

Taeyong just grins in response, tugging Doyoung by the elbow into his bedroom, and, yep. He has a wall of shoes. Back at the dorm, he also had an extensive collection, but this is just ridiculous. Not even Johnny has this many. Doyoung couldn’t even dream about owning this amount of shoes, either. 

He sometimes can’t believe how different he and Taeyong are. High-rise apartment, house. Avant-garde, bright and varied. Classic, monotone and settled. It was always interesting to see how different their rooms were back at the dorm, and how they still coexisted despite. 

But as he leaves Taeyong’s apartment for the night, the reality of what he sees really starts to sink in. They live separately now. Taeyong has his own space — his own, true space. They’re probably never going to live in the same place ever again. 

When he bids Taeyong goodnight, they hug, but it’s a short and cursory thing. So barebones friendly it stings. 

That night, he resolves to try to let go. Forget his feelings. He can love Taeyong without being in love with him, he thinks. Or, at the very least, he should try. 

So, no, his feelings don’t mellow out. But maybe it’s time they did. Everything has to come to an end. 

*****

Doyoung and Taeyong have bouts where they’re closer, closest to each other — and then they’re not. 

Friendships are like this, sometimes. Doyoung knows that. He can’t help that at points in his life he wants the ease that comes from being around other people that aren’t Taeyong, because being with Taeyong is complicated even when it’s the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it’s so complicated because it’s too easy. 

So months go by where Doyoung starts to slowly, slowly pull away. He doesn’t know what else to do for his heart other than this. 

He hangs out with other friends. Taeyong hangs out with his friends, too. Little by little, they see less of each other outside of work. And with other active units, they have less comebacks, which means less time at work, too. 

Something in Doyoung’s heart settles, dormant. He thinks that maybe he cracked the code. That he really doesn’t feel for Taeyong with the same magnitude he used to, when it felt like it truly was only his will that stopped him from reaching over and pulling them into a kiss. 

Then they’re on tour again, and it’s a whirlwind of things and the members can never outrun one another so they’re always together, and when months go by and it finally ends—

It’s the Link+ encore concert in Seoul, and Doyoung can’t keep the tears at bay. 

It gets so bad that he seeks out every person on that stage and gives him a hug. And then it gets so, so bad that when he sees Taeyong coming to him with his arms already outstretched, Doyoung crumbles like dust. 

He’s always there. A love so humbling, Doyoung remembers thinking once before. He’s always there. 

It’s so easy to sob his way into Taeyong’s embrace. The easiest thing in the world is just letting go. 

That night, he makes up his mind and finds the resolve to admit to himself that he doesn’t need to push Taeyong away, because nothing he does will ever diminish the feelings in his heart. Doyoung’s never been able to lie to himself about that, anyway. When he loves, he loves hard and true. 

He just has to make his peace with that. 

*****

Several things happen that year. 

They finish up their North American tour, Doyoung is part of a subunit with Jaehyun and Jungwoo and they break their own chart records, Taeyong debuts as a soloist, they have another comeback. 

Things are speeding up, just like that. Then comes the conversation they didn’t want to have. 

“Taeyong-ssi and Taeil-ssi will have to enlist soon enough,” a staff member tells them at the meeting for their next comeback. “So we will, of course, be looking at another, smaller-scale tour and content that we can schedule out for the next year, as well.” 

Doyoung sneaks a glance over at Taeyong and Taeil, and sees how their faces remain unchanged all the way until the end of the meeting. 

The work day ends, and everyone goes home. Doyoung’s always the first to rush out the door, but, this time, Taeyong catches up to him and they find themselves in the parking lot together before everyone else arrives. 

“Is our manager driving you home?” 

Taeyong nods, looking down at his phone. “Yeah, I’ll just wait here. Have a good night.” 

Doyoung pauses. He lingers long enough that Taeyong looks up at him in question, so Doyoung tells him, “I’ll drive you. Let’s go.” 

Taeyong doesn’t put up a fight, just says ‘thank you’ and steps into Doyoung’s car. They start the drive in companionable silence, but as the minutes go by, Taeyong’s stomach starts to audibly grumble. 

And then Doyoung’s does too. 

He sighs, “Wanna stop at McDonald’s?” 

Taeyong wrinkles his nose, but says, “Yeah,” like he always does whenever Doyoung asks. Or, whenever he used to ask — back at the dorm, when Doyoung was on his way home and texted Taeyong for a late-night meal order. 

They go to McDonald’s and order a Big Mac, 10-piece nuggets and two McFlurry’s that they end up eating in Doyoung’s car, out on the parking lot. Doyoung blasts the air because summer in Seoul is hot and sticky this year, and neither of them want their ice creams to melt. 

He broaches the topic first. 

“So,” Doyoung begins. “Enlistment.” 

Taeyong sighs, nodding. He keeps shovelling nuggets into his mouth. 

“You know, Gongmyung said it wasn’t too bad.” 

“I don’t think it is,” Taeyong says, which sounds like a lie with how he’s looking down at his lap. “I’m not nervous.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“I’m not,” Taeyong laughs. He shakes his head, turning to Doyoung with a smile. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” 

Doyoung nods. “Very wise of you.” 

“I’m almost thirty.” 

“You’re—” Doyoung pauses. He knew that already, but. “We’re getting old.” 

Taeyong peers over at him. “We’re both almost thirty now.” 

They eat some more of their food. 

“We’ve known each other for almost half of our lives,” Taeyong says. 

Doyoung’s heart tugs at that. He looks out at the night lights of the city — the entire street is bright, despite the darkness of the night. It’s inside his car that things are quieter, dimmer. He eats another fry. 

“Do you remember what I said to you?” 

Doyoung shakes his head. “You’ve said a lot of things.” 

“In the ‘To You’ video that we did,” Taeyong clarifies, poking Doyoung’s arm. He shovels more ice cream into his mouth, licking the spoon clean. 

Does he remember what Taeyong said to him then? He does. Doyoung used to think back on Taeyong’s words and wish he could reciprocate and say something just as meaningful back to him, but, back then, he couldn’t. 

He’s never been able to find the right words when it comes to Taeyong. Only in very specific moments, when he knows a loving word is needed, he’s able to say something kind despite the swelling in his heart. 

Now, Doyoung turns to Taeyong. “You also said a lot of things then.” 

“I told you I wish we would live in a nursery home together when we grew older,” Taeyong reminds him. Doyoung forces himself to nod. Taeyong smiles. “I think that would still be nice, don’t you?” 

“Why are you bringing this up again?” 

Taeyong sighs deeply. “I think I’m afraid of things changing too much.” 

“You mean with your enlistment?” 

“Yeah. I’m afraid of things changing, and—” Taeyong sighs again. He stops speaking, as if to collect his thoughts. “And…I’m afraid of us growing apart from each other.” 

Doyoung’s heart stops in its tracks. He feels guilty, for some reason. “What do you mean?” 

“I think about it sometimes. We all know this isn’t forever. We’ll all get families one day, and we’ll stop promoting together, and then we’ll stop hanging out as often and some of us will stop talking to each other.” Taeyong plays with his fingers in his lap. “Do you think that could be us?” 

“No, hyung,” Doyoung says plainly, and means it. He turns over on his seat so he can face Taeyong when he tells him, “I’ll always be here. You’re my best friend.” 

Taeyong smiles, shaking his head fondly. “Really? Best friend?” 

“What?” 

“It sounds like we’re kids.” 

“You’re my best friend.” 

“Okay. You’re my best friend too.” Taeyong considers him. “Promise me something then.” 

Doyoung sighs. He knows the glint in Taeyong’s eyes and what it means. “What?”

He always gets Doyoung to promise something outrageous when he looks at him like that. 

“When you’re old and tired, come live in the nursery home with me.”  

Doyoung shakes his head. Taeyong grins. 

“I promise.” 

“Okay, best friend,” Taeyong says, taking one of Doyoung’s fries. “It’s a deal. Did you realise this is the first time you’ve given me an answer to that?” 

Yes and no. Doyoung had never vocalised it — but he had made his mind up about this a while back. Tonight, he makes up his mind again, and figures that this time there’s no going back.

*****

They’re filming one of their usual contents for comebacks — all of them at a house in the countryside, trading stories and jokes over a dinner prepared (mostly) by Doyoung, and reminiscing more here than they do back in Seoul. Here, despite the film crew, they get time to slow down. They need that now more than ever, because it’ll be their last comeback as a full group for a long, long while. 

They’re huddled around the dinner table, bundled up in their winter clothes when Donghyuck says, “I was talking with Doyoung earlier in the car.” His voice is not hesitant, but probing. “In the future, I want to live with you guys—maybe not in the same house…”

Johnny jumps in. “But the same building?”

“Maybe the same apartment complex,” Donghyuck amends. Then, this time with some hesitance, “The reason I brought it up was, when we get older—would you feel lonely?” 

Doyoung’s and Taeyong’s eyes graze and then catch. There’s cameras all around them. Doyoung forgets about them for a moment. Taeyong looks away first, with a smile he bites down to will away. 

They get back to the conversation after that, because there’s nothing more to say. Even if no one else had ever brought it up, that had been their plan all along. Doyoung thinks back to the conversation they last had, months ago now. The way the heat of the summer seemed impenetrable with the air conditioner on full in his car, and Taeyong’s eyes on him. 

Doyoung’s gaze strays back to Taeyong and his soft, brown hair and dark eyes. 

He sees when Taeyong’s mouth opens and he says, nonchalantly, “I like that.” 

“I can make my son run an errand and give you a box of tangerines,” Donghyuck continues, more animated now that everyone’s expressed a want for something similar. Something that keeps them near. 

Then Johnny asks, “What if you have a daughter?” 

“Well,” Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, sheepish. “If I have a daughter, I’d have to go…” 

They laugh, and let the conversation rest there for now. They put a pin in it. 

Doyoung thinks about a future where he’s always got someone by his side. Someone he’s always wanted there, it feels like. He’s known him that long. 

*****

They say goodbye to Taeyong in the in-between months of spring and summer, when the air hasn’t warmed to a fever pitch yet, but Taeyong’s birthday is still approaching soon enough that it’s on Doyoung’s mind. 

When they hug, it’s long. It sort of feels like every time they hug now, it’s charged with so much emotion that neither of them know what to do with it. 

Doyoung holds onto Taeyong a little tighter, squeezing his eyes shut. Taeyong squeezes him back. They let go. 

Johnny thumps Taeyong’s back. “You’ll do well, Taeyongie. Don’t worry about it.” 

Everyone crowds around Taeyong, including his family — mom, and dad, and sister, and nephew, and brother-in-law, and cousins and aunts. They’ve come to see the baby of the family off. 

They’re in Taeyong’s childhood home for the final goodbye. Or, Doyoung tries to remind himself, a ‘see you later’. It’s not as dramatic as they’re making it seem like it is, he knows. Gongmyung went off to the military and came back quicker than Doyoung would have thought. Before they know it, Taeyong will be back. 

But they still let themselves shower Taeyong with love, just for today. He’s been suffering the change more than anyone else. Doyoung knows he doesn’t want things to shift just yet. That he’s afraid of the uncertainty of the group, and of his career. 

Doyoung thinks he has nothing to worry about. He’ll remind Taeyong a million times if he has to, but he’s never been the type to let something get in the way of what he wants. He has full faith he’ll come back well. 

Before Taeyong steps inside the car that will take him and his immediate family to the base camp where they’ll say a final goodbye, Taeyong turns to Doyoung with a smile. 

He gives him a key. 

“Can you check on my plants when I’m not there?” Taeyong asks him, grinning. “Just for the next few weeks while they hold me hostage over there.” 

Doyoung looks down at the spare key to Taeyong’s apartment that he now has in his hands, and he wonders why Taeyong’s doing this now, out of the blue. In front of everyone. His neck prickles uncomfortably, so warm and flushed that Doyoung begins to feel embarrassed about being embarrassed. 

Still, he nods and clutches the key to him. “Want me to dust a bit, too?” 

“Only if you want. You don’t have to.” 

“I’ll take care of it.” 

Taeyong smiles at him. Behind him is his mom, and that same smile Taeyong gives him is mirrored on his mother’s face. 

Doyoung feels like he’s done something right, just then. 

Taeyong hugs him goodbye one last time, as thanks, and then he’s turning to everyone else and saying goodbye and climbing into the car and driving away to the next chapter of their lives. 

Doyoung watches him drive away, and he thinks about the next few weeks where his routine will include going to Taeyong’s place while he’s away, taking care of it as he would him, and—

Doyoung absurdly just really, really likes that Taeyong trusts him with his things, and, just like that, he realises he may never stop wanting him. He may never stop wanting to want him.

So he doesn’t try to stop himself.

*****

In the weeks and, later, months that follow, Doyoung and Taeyong start up a new habit. They text day and evening and night. They text so often that they manage to talk the lonely hours away,  and as Doyoung lays in bed with only his phone and Taeyong’s words for company, he realises he wants more than he thought possible. He thought he’d hit a limit years ago, that loving couldn’t feel more tangible than this, but it could. It can. 

Having Taeyong so far away — not far through distance but far because of a monumental change — makes him realise that this want of his was only kept manageable because he’d always had Taeyong with him. Working and living together had always meant that when Doyoung turned his head, Taeyong was there, too. And when they didn’t live together anymore, there was still their work. Now, nothing. 

Doyoung feels the loss of him, even if it’s not truly a loss. Even if it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. When Gongmyung enlisted, it didn’t feel like this. 

But Doyoung’s never just loved Taeyong. 

His fingers twitch against his phone screen, still open on their shared chat history. He types out a new message. He sends it without thinking, then sends another.

I miss you. 

When can you visit?

It’s the middle of the night, so he really shouldn’t be replying this fast, but Taeyong’s never kept normal sleeping hours. His response comes just a minute after: 

I’ll ask for some time off, but you better buy all my meals kekeke

It’s like he doesn’t even hesitate at all.

*****

That first visit sets a precedent for them. 

Taeyong takes two days off to spend with Doyoung — not his family, not any of his other friends. Just Doyoung. 

He walks into Doyoung’s guest room and deposits his overnight bag there, running a hand over the short hairs of his scalp. Doyoung leans against the doorframe and watches how he moves. 

It’s been six months since they last saw each other in person like this. 

By ‘like this’, Doyoung means in the safety of a private space. By ‘like this’, Doyoung means ‘all alone, just us two’. 

They’ve spent countless days with just each other for company over the past decade. Johnny and Donghyuck weren’t always in the dorms on their days off because, unlike them, they liked going out more than they liked to stay in.

Taeyong walks past Doyoung to put his cosmetics bag in the bathroom. He had no need of bringing extra shampoo, or conditioner, or a toothbrush, or toothpaste, or floss, or mouthwash. Doyoung has them all stocked — both the default ones for everyone else, and Taeyong’s specific brands, at least for his shampoo and conditioner. Not for any particular reason. He just asked which ones he was using. 

“What’s for dinner?” Taeyong asks from the bathroom. 

Doyoung floats over to him, leaning against that door frame too. “I was thinking pasta? I already made the sauce.”

Taeyong nods, smiling. “You got the pasta-making machine, right?”

“It’s really good. It’s easy to use. Wanna try it out?” 

“If you’re asking me to, it must be good.” Taeyong stands in front of Doyoung, pushing on his shoulders until Doyoung’s walking backward and into the hallway, then out to the living room. “Lead the way.” 

They do end up making pasta. Doyoung’s a pro at it (he’s tried it out three times already), and it’s fun to watch Taeyong carefully grab onto the strips of flour, hanging them up on the metal poles to rest. They open up one of Doyoung’s bottles of wines, and it feels—

It feels like dinner. Well and truly so. 

Over the years, they’ve had moments between them where Doyoung thinks to himself, is this an us thing? Is it not just me who feels this way? Dinner’s the first time in months that Doyoung feels it again. 

Intimate. Together. Doyoung missed him. He thinks Taeyong must have missed him too. 

They go to bed after putting on a movie where Doyoung spends half his time sneaking glances at Taeyong whenever he laughs. If Taeyong does the same, Doyoung doesn’t catch him. If he did, Doyoung wouldn’t know what to think. 

Ten years is a long time to know someone. It’s an even longer time to love someone. 

The next morning, when Doyoung’s making breakfast for two while Taeyong makes the coffee maker run (without asking any questions about how it works, because Doyoung bought the same one they had back at their dorm), he wonders for the nth time in his life if this love is not unreciprocated. 

It’s a little crazy to think about in the light of the day, but he does think it. 

Taeyong serves Doyoung coffee in his favourite mug. He didn’t even have ask about this, either. 

*****

One visit turns to three, then five, then six. Between one moment and the next, Taeyong spends a weekend a month at Doyoung’s place. 

Doyoung has wanted to ask him for more of his time. Could they do this every other weekend? Two times a month? Or even every weekend? Doyoung misses him when he’s gone. 

He misses Taeyong like he’s never missed him before. 

Maybe it’s because things are so different now. NCT 127 is no longer promoting regularly, everyone’s broken off into subunits or solo acts; even Yuta’s going back and forth between Seoul and Japan for his acting gigs. Johnny’s taking time off to be with his family in Chicago — to take his girlfriend around where he used to live, too. Introduce her to his parents. Taeil finished his Master’s and has taken up giving private lessons to young musicians. Mark and Donghyuck are on a world tour. Jaehyun’s in Los Angeles working on his second solo album. Jungwoo’s still here, working as a host across a gamma of variety shows. Doyoung sees him the most. 

Maybe they’ve all grown apart. Maybe that’s what makes having Taeyong near, and yet not near enough, such a mind-fuck. It’s like no matter how much of Taeyong’s time Doyoung gets, it could never be enough. Not anymore. 

Doyoung wants him. It’s the want that never reaches its limit. Back when they were still active in the group, they spent so much time together (laughing, crying, hugging, touching hand to wrist to elbow to back to thigh), that it didn’t matter how much Doyoung wanted him. He learned to control it. Like exposure therapy.

Nearly a year’s gone by and Doyoung’s lid on his feelings is escaping him. He’s out of practice. 

Every month, Taeyong comes over, and Doyoung feels like they’re on the precipice of something. Maybe that’s what’s got Doyoung in such a mess. They’re in a transition. There’s tension, barely audible but still there, and they can both feel it every time they have dinner together. 

Alone, in Doyoung’s apartment. He’s just noticed, they never go out. They always stay in. 

And sometimes saying goodnight is a test within itself. They hold gazes for just a moment too long. Enough that Doyoung finds himself wondering — what if I told him I wanted him to come to bed with me? Like we used to. Just to sleep. 

But Doyoung never initiated sleeping together back then, not really. It was always because Taeyong asked, or because Doyoung knew he needed it. It was never because Doyoung wanted it badly enough to ask Taeyong for more than he gave. 

It used to be because Doyoung felt like Taeyong already showered him with enough love that Doyoung didn’t feel like he deserved asking for more. His was a humbling love. It still is, but Doyoung’s grown now, though. He knows that’s not what it’s about. Whatever Taeyong gives, he gives freely. 

No one could make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. 

At night, Doyoung thinks about Taeyong looking at him from the guest bedroom as they say their goodnights, and he dreams of his wants. 

*****

Another two months go by, and wanting turns to this— Doyoung cradling Taeyong’s cock in his hands, his thumbs massaging rhythmically at the head. He’s been at this for long minutes now, since Taeyong’s moans turned pitchy. Like a whine and a gasp caught into one. They weren’t patient enough to get Doyoung inside of him. 

Taeyong’s clutching at Doyoung’s bedsheets, trying with surprising success to keep his body still. The military has been good to him. The only warning Doyoung gets that he’s about to come is the way his fists impossibly tighten, and his eyes squeeze shut, and suddenly he’s saying, 

“Oh fuck,” Taeyong keens. “Doyoung-ah, Doyoung-ah—“

He spurts in Doyoung’s hands like that, chanting his name over and over until all he can manage are these little gasps that make Doyoung’s cock throb. He keeps his hands steady, even when Taeyong’s had enough and one of his hands flinches down to grab at Doyoung’s wrist. He keeps his thumbs moving. 

And then Taeyong whispers, “Dongyoung,” and Doyoung feels the magnitude of that like a punch to the gut.

They fell into bed together without really talking anything out. Taeyong’s on vacation for a few days, more than usual, and he stopped by Doyoung’s place first before anyone else’s. Before his own family’s. Again. And Doyoung couldn’t, he just couldn’t, keep the pressure in his chest from spilling out when he saw him again. He wanted him so badly Taeyong could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in the way Doyoung reached out to him after cooking them dinner. Again. And— 

Taeyong says his name like a surrender, and Doyoung wonders at how he’s always laid himself at Doyoung’s feet like this. Without ever really knowing whether Doyoung would reciprocate. But maybe it’s just that Taeyong knows him better than he knows himself, and he knows there’s no chance of Doyoung not loving him back. 

When Taeyong’s limbs melt back into him, spent, he gives Doyoung a loopy smile. He looks no less beautiful with his hair buzzed and dark. 

Then he’s straightening up and urging Doyoung to sit back against the headboard. He pulls his briefs down. Doyoung’s so hard Taeyong needs to really lift them for his cock to spring out. 

“I won’t last very long,” Doyoung admits. 

Taeyong meets his eyes, smiling. “I’ll make this quick, then.” He says it like a gift, like it’ll be a pleasure for him to see Doyoung unravel that fast. 

And he does come fast. He comes fast and hard with Taeyong’s tongue lapping at his head, then sinking down the length of him, and back up again to repeat the same pattern, using his hands in tandem with his tongue. Taeyong’s got him figured out even here, in bed, in a situation they’ve never found themselves in. 

Maybe once you know someone well enough, you can predict everything about them. Maybe Taeyong’s just a careful study. 

Maybe he heard Doyoung jerking off a few times too many back at the dorms — when they shared a wall that was too thin to keep the sounds out. Doyoung’s heard Taeyong before. He still thinks about his muffled sounds sometimes. He realises he’s heard them for himself now. It’s no longer a stolen secret. 

Taeyong takes every drop of cum Doyoung has to give him. He looks up at him with those eyes, the ones that tell Doyoung he’s enjoying this as much as he is. A small dollop peeks out of his mouth, and Doyoung thumbs it back inside. 

Taeyong swallows it down with a smile. 

When they kiss, Doyoung can taste himself in him, and although he’s always hated the tanginess of it, he kisses Taeyong back. This is his own surrender. 

In the morning, after a night spent talking, Doyoung gets out of bed first. He cooks Taeyong breakfast. They eat together. 

He thinks back to all those other times he sat at a kitchen table, watching a sleep-warmed Taeyong wake up slowly on a schedule-less day. How he’s wanted to kiss him every time he rubbed his eyes, or even sniffed a little. 

This time, Doyoung leans down for a kiss and Taeyong meets him halfway. 

*****

Two days later, Taeyong’s back in Doyoung’s house after cutting short a visit with his family. Doyoung told him he shouldn’t, but Taeyong had insisted. 

He’d said that they couldn’t sleep together for the first time in their lives and not have more than half a day afterwards to discuss it. His family could see him on his next vacation. He and Doyoung couldn’t wait. To that, Doyoung couldn’t disagree. 

They’re on the patio, a small thing that overlooks a patch of forest and the Han river. Doyoung paid good money for it. Over the past few months, Doyoung’s realised that Taeyong likes to spend more time here than he does at his own apartment, when he has the chance. Something about being close to nature.

“When did you know?” Taeyong asks. He’s snacking on some chips Doyoung bought for him this weekend.

Doyoung looks over. They’re sitting beside each other on Doyoung’s outdoor chairs, a wooden table between them. They’ve been talking the afternoon away for hours now. “Hm?” 

“When did you know?” Taeyong repeats, whining. He smiles. Then, more shyly, “That you loved me?” 

Doyoung coughs, just a little. He doesn’t expect the question. And, to be honest, he doesn’t really know what to say. Between one moment and the next, before he even realised it, he was in love. 

“Do you really want to know?” 

“You’re not gonna tell me?” Taeyong huffs, laughing. He’s always one step ahead of Doyoung. If they keep this up, neither of them will need to vocalise anything anymore. “Oh, come on. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?” 

Doyoung looks down at his hands. Without realising it, he’s twisting his fingers together. He forces himself to relax them. 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“What’s embarrassing is how I’m never going to let you inside me if you don’t tell me.” 

That sends a zing of heat travelling down Doyoung’s spine to his gut, leaving shivers in its wake. It’s only the reminder that they’re still stupidly combative with each other — even in this — that keeps the heat at bay. 

“I can just give you handjobs for the rest of our lives. You’d still like them.”

Taeyong pauses for a moment, long enough that Doyoung looks up to try to decipher the pensive look on his face. 

Then, “The rest of our lives?” 

Doyoung flushes hot so fast he feels cold. He does something he doesn’t usually do — tuck his hands under his sleeves. 

Taeyong smiles kindly. He reaches over to present one of his palms, upturned, for Doyoung to take. So of course he does. Despite the cool weather, Taeyong’s hand is a little clammy in his. 

“I’ll tell you mine later,” Taeyong says. He squeezes Doyoung’s hand once. “You can tell me yours when you want to. I think we’ll be stuck with each other for a long time anyway, so it doesn’t matter when.” 

A laugh bubbles out of Doyoung’s lips. He won’t tell him, but he’s touched. “You’ve said that for over a decade, Yong-ah.” 

Taeyong shrugs. “I mean it every time.” 

Doyoung traces his face with his eyes. He gazes at his dark eyes, looks upon his mouth, his nose, cheeks, eyebrows, forehead revealed by the shortness of his hair. He imagines what he’ll look like a year from now, then five, then ten, and thirty, too. 

What would Taeyong look like at forty-six? At sixty? At seventy-five? 

Doyoung raises Taeyong’s hand up, turning it so he can press a kiss to the back of it. 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, then.” 

“Okay,” Taeyong nods. He looks the most in-love Doyoung’s ever seen him be. His eyes soften until they become half-lidded in a hidden smile. “Tell me tomorrow.” 

They sit there, on Doyoung’s patio, until the sun sinks under the horizon. When it does, Doyoung pulls them both up and ushers them back inside so he can make them a warm meal. Again. And again, and again.