Dreaming About You

 Another day, another interview.

“Tell the person on your left three things you appreciate about him!” declared the interviewer enthusiastically, like this type of question was brand new. Yugyeom glanced to his left, even though he didn’t need to in order to know who was sitting there. Jinyoung, of course.

“Well,” Yugyeom said when it was his turn, trying to focus on Jinyoung’s face instead of all the people watching him. “Jinyoung-hyungie is really talented. He just starred in another movie and has composed many songs for us. Plus, he’s great at singing and dancing, of course.”

“Talented indeed!” the host said. “That somehow felt like ten items already, even though it was technically one. What else?”

“Jinyoung-hyung is also kind, and great at giving advice. You know, when you’re feeling down he just – ” he felt everyone staring at him, and realised he was rambling, going way off topic. He coughed. “But anyway, most of the time he’s just annoying.”

Everyone laughed. Jinyoung hit the back of his head, more amused than annoyed. Maknae on top always worked in variety.

“They’re like Tom and Jerry,” Bambam explained to the host and Yugyeom made a peace sign for the cameras.

Another day, another unresolved crush.

Yugyeom remembered clearly when Jinyoung had announced he had a girlfriend. It didn’t come as a surprise – how could it when the members spent most of their time together – but now it was official, he was in love, he was serious about it, and Yugyeom froze even as everyone around him moved to pat Jinyoung on the back. (Yugyeom did too, eventually, with a smile that was genuine because his hyung simply looked so happy.)

They’d met the girl in question a couple of weeks later, as she briefly visited the JYP building to shake hands. Mina was a year younger than Jinyoung, non-famous, and they’d met at the set of one of his photoshoots where she worked as an assistant. She’d go out with Jinyoung later for sashimi. (Similar taste in food, Yugyeom noted, and couldn’t help but recall all the times he had rebuffed Jinyoung’s dinner invitations because he didn’t like the cuisine in question. Karma.)

According to the dramas that Yugyeom knew by heart, he ought to hate this girl now. But he didn’t. Mina was friendly and easy-going and they were soon happily chatting away about the best seafood restaurants in Seoul and Descendants of the Sun. Similar taste in dramas was the quickest way to get on his good list. 

But then Jinyoung arrived and touched his girlfriend’s nape in that casual intimate way of lovers and Yugyeom promptly forgot his entire speech on Dots’ love story. Right. This is also what happened in dramas.

Yugyeom excused himself as BamBam made gagging noises in the background (“grow up, will you?” sighed Jinyoung exasperatedly, while Mina seemed amused at it all). He headed straight for the practice room. He’d been meaning to get some dancing done and now was as good a time to start as any. But really, the best thing about dancing had always been that there was no thinking involved.

“What do you think about Mina?”

They were in the waiting room for another music show. The rest of the group were getting their make-up done, whilst Yugyeom and Jinyoung, having finished early, were lounging on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

Yugyeom looked up from his phone, a little taken aback. “She’s nice,” he said.

“You sound as though you’re surprised,” Jinyoung replied.

“No, I’m not,” Yugyeom said quickly. “I just thought that’d you go for an actress kind of girl, you know? Chic. Like you,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily.

“Dating someone like yourself is boring, not to mention narcissistic.” He unscrewed the cap from his water bottle and took a sip. After wiping his mouth and carefully closing the bottle again, Jinyoung went on: “Mina is kind and genuine. I like that. I like it when someone’s simple, you know?”

They looked at each other. Yugyeom’s mind felt fuzzy, trying to connect dots that weren’t there.

“So what about you?”

“Eh?”

“What kind of girls do you like,” Jinyoung clarified. “I know, you’re into the y types, aren’t you?”

“What’s wrong with that?” he said, a tad defensively.

“Nothing,” Jinyoung replied, “just that our maknae is all grown up.”

“I’ve been hearing that for over a year now,” Yugyeom grumbled. He was quiet for a moment. The floor beneath his feet was of a blue colour. Prussian, cobalt, navy. He didn’t know all the different shades. He should learn them, maybe. Yugyeom kept his eyes trained on the carpet when he spoke up. “I like it when – someone is working hard. When they’re passionate. I think that’s attractive.” He didn’t know why his chest felt so tight. It just did.

“Yeah?” Jinyoung replied, softly.

Yugyeom didn’t look up. They were all just words, anyway.

There had been a moment when Yugyeom’s dreams had almost tipped over into reality. After a night of drinking and card games among the members, Jinyoung and Yugyeom were the only ones left in the living room. Jinyoung was glued against his side in his navy hoodie and had been for the past hour. (Yugyeom didn’t want to think as if he belonged there, and yet).

Jinyoung was playing with the fringe of Yugyeom’s shirt as his head lolled against his shoulder, cute and affectionate – needy, dare he say – in a way he was never when completely rational. Courtesy of a bottle of wine and sleepiness barely kept at bay. Jinyoung looked up at him from his comfortable position as Yugyeom slowly met his gaze. They stared at each other for a while – forever, it felt, or maybe just for a few seconds (time was but an abstract matter in the quiet of night). Jinyoung’s eyes flicked towards his mouth. He smiled languidly, like they were sharing some kind of private joke.

And in that moment Yugyeom suddenly was so sure – as sure as he was in love, as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow – that if Yugyeom leaned in now, Jinyoung would let him. Would let Yugyeom kiss him, in their dark living room, with empty cans of beer surrounding them and the distant sound of someone snoring. Would press himself against Yugyeom and make some whiny noise, probably, that’d sound like fireworks going off in the dead of night.

But Yugyeom teetered on that precipice too long, wondering what if and should I as his heart almost burst from the possibilities. Teetered long enough for Jinyoung to slowly get his senses back: eyes focussing, brow furrowing. The transition happened right in front of him. There was a small ah sound before Jinyoung finally moved away. All shifted back to normal, except that Yugyeom’s heart still hammered ten times a second.

“I guess I’ll go to sleep now. Don’t stay up late,” Jinyoung whispered. His voice sounded foreign after the prolonged quiet. He softly got on his feet, like he wasn’t expecting a reply anyway, and petted Yugyeom on the shoulder. It felt like an apology.

Yugyeom stayed on the living room floor for over an hour – long after his heart rhythm had reverted to an average seventy beats per minute, long after his eyes had dried from tears there’d been no point in hiding.

The problem with dreams was that they could shatter. And those shards, they hurt.

They were abroad for a concert. Hanoi, Vietnam: another city, another hotel, another opportunity to try out the local food only for Yugyeom to long for tacos instead.   

Jinyoung and Yugyeom were sharing a room for a change. Mark was Yugyeom’s usual roommate when overseas, but his hyung had come down with the flu and so Yugyeom had moved up a door, interrupting Jinyoung’s much prized solitude with a knock.

(“Sorry,” Yugyeom had said merrily as he dropped his suitcase on the spare bed. Jinyoung’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “I promise I don’t snore,” Yugyeom added, and Jinyoung threw a shirt at him.)

Some hours after the performance had ended and they’d had dinner with the crew, Yugyeom was lounging contentedly on bed. He was texting his friends back home, sending them selfies and a blurry landscape picture that he’d taken from the backseat of their van. There were palm trees, in any case, which was enough to elicit jealous reactions from rainy Seoul. Jinyoung had been quick to call dips on the shower and had been in there for a while now, going over his elaborate beauty routine. (All the members did, being idols and all that – so it’s not like Yugyeom had any room for teasing. If anything, Yugyeom envied Jinyoung’s discipline because he always felt like slacking off as soon as he was free of schedules).

Yugyeom only realised that the sound of water running had been absent for a while now when the bathroom door opened and Jinyoung exited wearing only a towel, hair still dripping. Yugyeom’s mouth went dry at the sight. Right. He hadn’t thought this part through, exactly.

“No need to ogle, Yugyeommie,” Jinyoung said semi-seriously.

“Why would I?” Yugyeom countered, regaining his sense of speech. His face felt bright red. Curse his overenthusiastic blood vessels. “I’m going to take a shower now,” he announced, trying his best not to look at Jinyoung. His back appeared extra broad as he rummaged through his suitcase, looking for something to wear. Yugyeom breathed in deeply.

Once he was safely locked into the shower, he stood motionless for five minutes, letting the lukewarm water wash over him. He tried his hardest not to think about anything; certainly not about Jinyoung, with his jet-black hair and dewy skin. It was unfair, really, how handsome he was, and that he’d decided to start working out on top of that. Yugyeom dared anyone not to fall in love. (And yet the rest of the group didn’t seem to be chronically infatuated, so the joke was on him, really.)

When he finally got out of the shower, he slowly towelled himself dry, not sure if he wanted to go back into that room. Part of him – the part that came out on stage, the part that made him reckless and confident – wanted Jinyoung to feel the way he had before. He stared at his reflection, biting his lip. He knew he could look good, if only he got in the right mind-set. But then there was another, quiet yet overwhelming, part of himself that recalled Jinyoung had a girlfriend and he just didn’t want to be that kind of person. Maybe he really was too nice, as his hyungs kept saying.

He grabbed his flannel pyjamas and put them on. It felt like defeat.

When he shuffled back into the room, Jinyoung was already tucked in bed, reading a book on his belly. “Had a good shower?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the page. He was even wearing his glasses. It’d been a while since Yugyeom had seen those.

“Hmm,” Yugyeom replied noncommittally. He climbed into bed as well. Pulling the covers up until his chin, he let out a happy sigh. His body suddenly remembered what a long day it’d been; he felt drowsy, content. And with Jinyoung safely tucked away wearing his un-y reading glasses, his previous uneasiness evaporated like dew beneath the morning sun.

“Don’t pretend to read just to look smart, hyung,” Yugyeom said with a smile, glancing to his left.

“I’m not pretending,” Jinyoung said in a monotone voice, their bickering a well-rehearsed play that could be acted out even as his eyes continued to flit over the tiny characters.

“Well, what’s the book about?” Yugyeom asked, switching tactics.

“Are you going to keep me from reading by asking questions?”

“Sorry,” Yugyeom replied, pouting.

There was silence for a moment, until Jinyoung finally relented. “It’s a collection of poetry,” he said, “from Seo Jeong-Ju, one of my favourite authors.”

“Hmm,” Yugyeom said, even though the name didn’t ring a bell at all. Jinyoung had probably mentioned him before, but then again, all those poets sort of started to jumble together.

“There’s this part I really like,” Jinyoung said, his voice gaining an excitement that came out only when he was passionate about something. Yugyeom loved that. Could listen to it on repeat. Jinyoung flipped back some pages and opened his mouth, before closing it again. “Aah, you don’t want to hear it, do you?”

“No, I want to, hyung,” Yugyeom said quickly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Jinyoung said, sounding a little insecure, and Yugyeom’s chest squeezed at that.

“I would never,” he lied, holding up his pinky for good measure.

“Okay.” Jinyong cleared his throat. “It’s called In The Field Filling Up With Snow. Let me read a few verses.” He paused for a moment, as if to regain his focus, before opening his mouth.

It’s all right,

It’s all right–

the snowflakes fall like fluffy cotton, 

embracing even the sound of young girls with rosy cheeks returning to their nests.

It embraces even the sound of all the fortunes returning home, 

the crying, 

the laughing, 

the burdened ones, 

now getting up strongly.

Jinyoung’s clear diction and soft voice filled the room. Yugyeom looked at him while lying on his side, letting the words wash over him like the shower water had moments earlier. He didn’t quite realise Jinyoung had finished reading until he turned over to look at him.

“What do you think?”

“It was nice,” Yugyeom said quickly, even though he hadn’t actually gotten much of the poem. Had listened to Jinyoung’s voice, more than anything.

Jinyoung rubbed his face, doubtful of Yugyeom’s words, but elaborated anyway: “The poem makes me feel nostalgic. It reminds me of winters back home. It’s the season of loneliness, of melancholy, you know? A bit strange to be reading it in a hot country like Vietnam.”

“Hmm,” Yugyeom replied, “I wouldn’t mind some ice right now, though.”

Jinyoung smiled helplessly at that, seeming unsure whether to laugh or to facepalm – as he was so often when confronted with Yugeom’s logic. “Well, yeah. True enough. Do you want to hear another one, or – ”

“Yeah, I do,” Yugyeom replied. He made himself comfortable as he listened to Jinyoung’s second poem and the ones after that. Watched his black hair fall into his eyes, his slender fingers turn the page, his lips part at every carefully pronounced word.

In moments like these, it was easy to pretend. In moments like these, it was kind of nice being in love.

In hindsight, Yugyeom had been in love with Jinyoung forever. He hadn’t realised it at the time (how could he? being young and inexperienced, overwhelmed with debut and a thousand new impressions and challenges alike). In those times Jinyoung had been a beacon of calm, someone whom he could turn to and ask if things were going to be okay, and actually believe him when the reply was yes Yugyeommie, everything will be all right.  

Jinyoung had been an easy target for his teasing and pranks too. And in retrospect it was so painfully obvious that that was all teenage flirting, his awkward way to get Jinyoung’s attention, even though it meant his hyung getting annoyed by him time and time again. Jinyoung’s frustrated sighs were better than his eyes on someone else, though.

Sometimes, he thinks he will never be over Jinyoung. He’ll be dating someone and Jinyoung will ask how are you Yugyeommie in that silk voice of his and Yugyeom will revert to his teenage crushing self. Because no matter that he’s way past 180cm now and his dancing has become unsuitable for some broadcast stations, around Jinyoung he’ll always be that sixteen-year-old boy: craving his attention, glowing in his presence even though it hurts.

“People have been asking about you, you know?”

It was noon and Yugyeom and BamBam were sipping their iced fruit shakes as though it contained an antidote for the sweltering heat outside. August called for strawberry and air-conditioning, and because neither were available at their apartment, they had fled to their favourite café. Yugyeom absentmindedly wondered if it’d be weird if he put some ice cubes on his body. It probably would be.  

“And by people I mean girls,” BamBam continued with a meaningful look.

“Oh, really?” Yugyeom swept his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. He should really get a haircut.

“Don’t act so surprised,” BamBam laughed, nudging him from across the table. “Surely you know that you’ve been getting popular. I mean, now you’ve become all tall and handsome… actually, you were always tall. But since you’ve lost all signs of puberty, I mean.”

Yugyeom kicked him underneath the table and was met with a painful grimace. Yugyeom smiled semi-apologetically: it was hard to stay rational in this hot weather.

“Oi!” BamBam complained, even though he didn’t seem much indignant at all. It was one of the reasons Yugyeom liked hanging out with him: things were always chill between them. No clouds to darken their summer sky. “I was giving you a compliment, you know?”

“Oh right, because I’m so handsome?” Yugyeom grinned. “Sure it’s not you who’s been asking about me, then?”

BamBam stuck out his tongue at him, their back-and-forth comfortable and familiar. “So anyway, if you’re interested…”

Yugyeom combed a hand through his hair, feeling restless for reasons he did not quite understand. “Well, won’t you tell me anything else?”

BamBam gave him a mysterious smile, and barely evaded a second attack on his shins. “Okay, okay, easy. It’s from when I was on this show, I got into contact with some girl group members. Even got their phone numbers. You want them?”

Yugyeom blinked. “I mean – sure. Yeah.”

“That’s my boy.” BamBam whipped out his phone and started reading their contact information in a hushed tone, as though they were sharing some secret. Maybe they were. Yugyeom dutifully copied everything in his phone, ignoring his growing sense of bewilderment. He wasn’t sure if he was really going to call these girls (the thought of contacting a complete stranger frightened him, to be honest). If he was going to be even more honest, he wasn’t sure if he even liked girls. He wasn’t sure of anything, really.

“Okay, thanks,” he said instead, “you’re a real bro.”

“I know. Can’t you hook me up with someone in return?” BamBam said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t know anyone,” Yugyeom replied with a shrug, “I never appear on any shows. I’ll buy you another shake instead?”

“Done,” BamBam grinned and dabbed to seal the deal. Some things were easy like that.

He did not call any of the girls, though he didn’t erase their numbers either. Sometimes he opened up his contact list with a conversation in mind, but chickened out at the last second. It felt weird, contacting people (girls) he’d never spoken with in real life. And maybe he was too much of a romanticist anyway, imagining that he’d just run into the love of his life. Then again, that hadn’t exactly worked out for him until now.

Word must have gotten out about his phone numbers anyway, because one morning over breakfast Mark said: “I heard Yugyeom has been contacting girls.”

Yugyeom almost spat out his cereal and shot a glance at BamBam, who innocently looked the other way. Secrets seemed to be overrated these days. He almost wanted to contradict Mark, say that he hadn’t in fact called any of the girls yet, but thought better of it when he felt Jinyoung staring at him. He shrugged instead. Suggesting something to be true wasn’t a lie, exactly.

“How come you’ve been keeping this from me, Yugyeomie?” Jinyoung said, “I’m hurt.” He used his acting tone, the one where Yugyeom could never tell if he was being genuine or not.

“I don’t need to tell you everything,” Yugyeom snapped. He swallowed as soon as the words had left his mouth, because he hadn’t meant to say that. There was an awkward silence, in which everyone’s eyes darted from Jinyoung to Yugyeom. He could feel that his cheeks had reddened. The only thing he could truly depend on in situations like these. “Sorry,” Yugyeom fumbled, “I didn’t mean – I’m just a bit tired, is all. I’ll clean up the table later. If you’ll excuse me.” He retreated to his room, feeling pathetically sorry for himself.

After a while, when he was sure the kitchen was empty, he returned to do the dishes. The large pile on the counter suggested that no cleaning had been done for some time, but Yugyeom welcomed the challenge. Anything to distract his mind. He filled the sink with hot water and added way too much detergent, but he liked how it made it foam. He rolled up his sleeves and set himself to the task with a rookie kind of mind-set. The morning sun coming in through the window across the sink lit up the entire kitchen. It made the water gleam. Yugyeom was humming a song before he even knew it.

He’d been done with about a quarter of the dishes, when he heard someone approach him from behind. It was Jinyoung. Of course it was. He didn’t say anything and instead watched him with folded arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. Yugyeom tried to focus on the task at hand, even as his skin prickled beneath Jinyoung’s steady gaze.

“What is it, hyung?” Yugyeom finally asked, when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“I felt like we needed to talk.”

Yugyeom nodded to himself. He took a deep breath before looking Jinyoung in the eye. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he said earnestly. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that earlier. I don’t know what came over me, honestly.”

Jinyoung seemed to accept his apology as he took a step closer, a faint smile on his lips. “I’d blame it all on puberty, but I’m afraid you’re already past that stage.”

“Ah, come one, hyung!” Yugyeom splashed foam at him without thinking about it. Jinyoung’s eyes widened comically, and for a moment Yugyeom feared he’d ruined things again, but then Jinyoung burst into laughter. The tension in Yugyeom’s limbs lifted. Before he could fully relax, though, Jinyoung had reached for the sink as well and splashed Yugyeom in retaliation. Yugyeom quickly moved away, shrieking in a very unmanly way – but he was grinning as he did so. He was relieved they were on playful terms again. He did not like to be at odds with people (did not like to be at odds with Jinyoung).

When it seemed there would be no more foam attacks, Yugyeom returned to the sink to resume his chore. Jinyoung grabbed a towel as he said: “Let me dry the dishes.” Yugyeom smiled gratefully in response.

They worked in silence for a while. Yugyeom continued humming a song as he passed Jinyoung the bowls and plates. The warm sun light and Jinyoung’s soft presence next to him made the kitchen feel like some equilibrium, one that Yugyeom did not want to leave. It was easy to dream here. When he still lived at home, he used to help out his mother with the dishes: they’d talk about their day and whatever issues were on his mind. He was reminded of that in this moment. Felt strangely comforted.

After some time Jinyoung spoke up. “I feel like I also owe you an apology, Yugeyom-ah. I didn’t mean to imply earlier that you should tell me everything. You can tell me everything, of course, but you have your own life. I know that, and I respect that.” Jinyoung was silent for a moment, but Yugyeom didn’t reply, sensing that Jinyoung had more to say. After a while he continued: “If I seem protective of you, it’s only because I care. I care a lot about you, Yugyeomie.”

Yugyeom could feel that Jinyoung was looking at him. The heaviness of his gaze made Yugyeom’s body glow like logs in a campfire. Soft, warm, steady. You’d almost forget not to touch.

“I know you do, hyung. Thanks.” His voice sounded strange. He wondered if Jinyoung noticed. But whether he did or not, Jinyoung merely smiled and reached out to pat his forearm. His fingers were wet. Goosebumps bloomed on Yugyeom’s skin.

There was a fond expression on Jinyoung’s face, one that always appeared in situations like these; one that had been etched onto Yugyeom’s heart since the first time Jinyoung had looked at him like that. When they were still trainees and life was deceptively simple. (Sometimes, Yugyeom had the feeling that Jinyoung smiled at no-one else like that. Then again, his mum had always said he had a talent for dreaming).

“You don’t have to finish everything, hyung, I can do the rest,” Yugyeom offered. He didn’t want Jinyoung to leave, exactly; he just didn’t know what else to say.

But Jinyoung shook his head, a tell-tale sparkle in his eyes. “How could I leave you, Yugyeomie? I’ll stay until the end.”

Yugyeom smiled faintly. “Yeah. I know you will, hyung. I know.”