Non-au—Behind the smiles

(anonymous)

Donghae has two sorts of beauty; Hyukjae craves for both of them.

There’s the one that appears along with the blinding, professional smiles—with the sparkly clothes and the glitters; with the smooth moves of his dancing and the emotions in his husky voice. Slow-building, as though framed by the careful hands of an artist perfecting his best piece of artwork, the beauty would spread across Donghae’s face in slow motions. Overshadow the flaws; prompt the rest to slip away from attention. The combination of his shapes and colors would please anyone’s eyes—but especially Hyukjae’s.

The whole of Donghae’s borderline perfection would always be enhanced by carefully-thought layers of powders, as well as the tasty gloss that make-up artists never forget to put on his thin lips, and the elaborate construction of his hairstyle. Sometimes it’s styled up, making him look fierce and confident, like he’s ready to do anything to claim what he wants. Sometimes it’s styled down, and then he would look more innocent and almost delicate, prompting Hyukjae to wish he could embrace him for the end of time.

And then, they would be on stage, just the two of them or maybe with all the others; Donghae’s breathtaking beauty would shine. Almost literally. It would become so bright that Hyukjae sometimes fears he won’t be able to take his eyes off him. His stomach would churn violently in longing, desperate to hide him from the avid eyes of thousand fans, and his heart would quiver a little in affection, in pride.

There’s also the one that appears the moment that the glitters fade and the sparkly clothes are put away, revealing what’s hidden underneath. There arise the flaws and the vulnerability of a fragile man, of a child that tries hard not to grow up too fast. There are loud laughs and brilliant, shy smiles; there are cheekiness and playfulness, wrapped up in a mischievous innocence.

Denuded of powders and gloss and fancy hairstyles, Donghae shows to the world, to Hyukjae, who he is really. He shows the scars under his left eye, shows the tiny mole in the crook of his neck, shows the depths of his heart without being asked. Offers it willingly; trustfully; unyieldingly.

In those moments, when Donghae displays all the flaws and imperfections that define his very beauty, it seems like he was created with a pallet of florescent and pastel, warm colors that would make even Picasso shed a tear. He would smile, unabashedly and with a sincerity that makes hearts ache, and lights from every end of the color spectrum would go running in kinds all directions. He looks like an untouched canvas, raw and blunt in everything he does—yet soft and ever so caring.

And Hyukjae—Hyukjae is there to catch everything; he catches the smiles and the laughs and the vulnerability, engraves them somewhere in the back of his mind and never forgets. He traces the length of his scars, embraces the ones of his heart, and lets himself be led by the storm of emotions that Donghae always makes a point to make him feel.

There’re these two extremes, but not only; there’s also Donghae stepping in-between, trying to find the right footing. He stays there, in the middle of somewhere he most probably doesn’t recognize, and stays mostly calm like a storm about to explode. His eyes flash in a mix of excitation and nervousness, and then burn with something determined and expert—and then they’re confuse