Boys like girls.

Girls like boys.

That’s what Kyungsoo has been taught since he was young.

He saw it in his morning cartoons, he read it in books and he heard it from films he liked watching. He learnt it from his society.

And he believed it.

Because there was no other possibility (or so he thought).

Those were the stories he heard.

Now, he is older.

Wiser? He wouldn’t know.

But, he has discovered more stories. The ones his parents shelter him from, by switching the channel or turning off the radio. The ones society hides, mocking and shunning the storytellers when they try to share it to the world.

No wonder he never found that, he thinks.

He understands the stance of the majority. They believe their own stories, ones their parents told them, the world told them, the ones that make them feel safe and comfortable. It’s a factor they feel that can control.

Kyungsoo has his own story.

He found it after spending nights worried that he was abnormal and days when he was scared of his own thoughts. He accepted it even after hearing that it was wrong and when people discouraged his side of the story.

And now, he loves it.

Him.

No matter what anyone says.

Because beauty does not come in long straight hair, snow-white complexion and rosy, cheery mouth.

To Kyungsoo, beauty is the sun-kissed skin of a lean and angular body. It is the short, untamed locks of a reluctant riser. It is the contours of plump, pouty lips.

To Kyungsoo, beauty is Kim Jongin.

 

Kyungsoo sits in the dark, his eyes on the stage where Jongin is practicing.

Lights illuminate the stage making the dancer on stage shine with the brilliance of a faraway star. The rest of the theatre is shaded in the darkness in which Kyungsoo hides.

He knows that Jongin can’t see him. Kyungsoo’s been on the stage himself, during singing performances, and he knows that the lights shine only on the performer.

He should be virtually invisible.

But as he watches Jongin and the younger’s eyes never stray from him either.

Hooded eyes, visible from even a long distance, shining with the effects of the light but also something magical that appears and is felt by the audience whenever Jongin dances.

Kyungsoo shivers, feeling hot and cold under his signature gaze.

He can’t relax in his seat, choosing to sit on the edge with his body leaning forward, almost as though he were being pulled. His hands grasp the back the seat in the previous row as he watches Jongin glide on the stage.

Arms curving around his form, graceful yet sharp as his legs bend before pushing off the ground, only to land on the balls of his feet, swiftly turning directions as his shirt flows behind his movements.

Kyungsoo watches and has been watching since they met two years ago in the University, yet he still cannot do justice to his dance in words. 

He has written paragraphs full of fluffy adjectives and verbs, used all the flowers of spring, yet he could not describe the elegance nor the intensity of it.

“You don’t have to describe,” Jongin had told him, when the elder turned up to their study session with a notebook full of unfinished memories. “You just have to feel.”

So he feels.

His heart tightens when Jongin’s knees hit the ground, it soars with the dancer in his Fouettés, and his grip on the seat tightens at the crescendo.

When Jongin bows and the lights turn off, Kyungsoo’s emotions rush out in a heavy sigh.

He frowns then because he forgot to clap – again - and Jongin has already disappeared backstage.

 

He appears from the back doors of the theater, where Kyungsoo is already waiting, trying to untangle himself out of his backpack straps.

“Stop tying yourself up, hyung,” Jongin scolds. He grabs the elder’s hands and Kyungsoo gets the signal to drop them at his sides. Jongin takes the responsibility of untying the knots Kyungsoo has created, standing close so that his nose brushes against Kyungsoo’s hair as he looks down at the task at hand.

Kyungsoo looks up to see that Jongin’s own hair is wet from sweat. It should be disgusting, but Kyungsoo is used to it.

While the younger is busy, Kyungsoo pushes his wet fringes aside, holding them out of his face with one hand.

Jongin mumbles a ‘thanks’, still pulling away at the straps around Kyungsoo’s stomach. They stand there, undisturbed and lost in their own tasks until Jongin laughs.

“Aha,” he grins, hands holding the straps separately. He smiles wide, cheekbones strained.

Kyungsoo beams. He’s always been a er for nice smiles. And cute things.

Jongin’s got both of Kyungsoo’s common interests going for him, with his youthful smile.  

Kyungsoo lets his hair fall before his eyes. Jongin flips his hair to the side and he pulls Kyungsoo closer by his straps.

“Good job,” Kyungsoo compliments.

The feelings are back. Standing close to each other, Kyungsoo looking up and Jongin looking down. Their noses brush occasionally as Jongin lightly rocks back and forth.

“With the knot and the practice.”

Now Kyungsoo’s just hot. Jongin is radiating heat a lot of heat from just having finished his rehearsal and Kyungsoo, well, he’s hot for different reasons.

“Hm.”

They’ve come to a standstill. It happens often. When they take a moment to just take each other in. They didn’t talk about these moments when they first happened, they don’t talk about it now.

“Thanks,” Jongin whispers, the moment too fragile.

Their eyes lock, an understanding shared between the two. Untold secrets and confessions lurk in the silence they are too afraid to break. Kyungsoo has learnt to ignore it for now. But it doesn’t stop him from admiring the younger from this angle, his lips so near and tempting.

When he looks up again, Jongin is no longer smiling. His eyes are hard and his tongue peaks out to wet his lower lip.

It’s Kyungsoo cue.

So he takes a step back, Jongin releasing his hold on the backpack straps.

“Hyung.” Jongin sounds out of breath, his heavy voice echoing in the realms of Kyungsoo’s mind. Jongin doesn’t add anything, just pinches Kyungsoo’s nose and smiles when Kyungsoo frowns.

Jongin sticks his tongue out while Kyungsoo grumpily wipes at his nose. The taller sneaks his fingers between Kyungsoo’s free ones. Kyungsoo tightens his hold and he is pulled along, a bashful smile playing on his face.

 

In some – most - stories, boys like girls.

In Kyungsoo’s story, he just likes Jongin.

 

 

 

 

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Flash Fiction #1

I don't know what this is~

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