‘They got in again,’ says Baekhyun one night, when the boys are back in a dorm that feels far too big for them now that their other half is away in China. The rooms grow colder faster, the silence tends to resonate louder in their minds. It was easier being twelve.

It felt safer.

‘What did they take this time?’ asks Junmyeon, worry furrowing his brow as he checks to make sure that their front door is securely locked and all s are accounted for. People for being too careful, but the truth is - you can’t trust people nowadays. Boundaries are lines of chalk on well used pavement to people who think they’re fans, following idols around everywhere, blurring the lines between entertainer/public figure andhuman.

It’s the worst part of their job.

It’s also the scariest.

‘My pillowcase is gone, and so’s some of Yeol’s guitar picks,’ Baekhyun hollers from inside his room. Junmyeon just rolls his eyes. Chanyeol groans and crosses to the room in long strides. Junmyeon follows soon after, Sehun scurrying off into his own room to account for his own belongings.

‘I hate this,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, eyes fixed firmly on his feet. Jongin raises his eyebrows at his hyung - it isn’t like Kyungsoo to readily volunteer his feelings, and the former is both taken aback and alarmed. Kyungsoo must be very, very annoyed, he thinks. I don’t know what to say to make him feel better, inches into his mind not five seconds later.

He clears his throat. ‘We’ll just have to get manager hyungs to tighten security again, I guess,’ Jongin says, shuffling along after Kyungsoo into their shared room. ‘I’m just glad we’re all safe,’ he adds, in a tone that implies he’s trying to be helpful.

Kyungsoo just glares at him. ‘Don’t you feel caged, though, Jongin? Who knows who’s been in your bed, who knows who’s looked through all your drawers. We can’t have even the smallest affordance of privacy, I just - ’ words escape Kyungsoo as he rips his bedsheets off in a fury, dumping them into the laundry basket before yanking new ones onto his bed. ‘I hate feeling like this,’ he mumbles under his breath. It’s low enough for him to hope Jongin doesn’t hear, but it isn’t low enough for his hope to be true.

Jongin watches with doleful eyes as Kyungsoo remakes his bed. It was somewhat easier for him, he supposes, what with his openness to share and his willingness to be in the spotlight. But Kyungsoo was different - Kyungsoo was private, quiet, shy to the point of preferring to be alone. He laughed to himself instead of at Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s jokes, kept his eyes dry and emotions guarded when the rest of s fell apart on stage.

I hate watching you feel like this.

He lets the silence settle between them, plants himself on his own bed when Kyungsoo goes to the bathroom to change and wash up. Jongin gets his turn when Kyungsoo comes back, and the hot water that pelts him feels a lot heavier, like they’re weighed down by Kyungsoo’s words.

The gravity of the singer’s words don’t rub off his skin the way water does, though, and Jongin’s footsteps are considerably heavier as he makes his way back to their bedroom.

He pushes the door closed as quietly as he can, unadjusted eyes barely making out the faint outline of his hyung in a pile under the covers of his bed. As soon as the door’s shut, he makes his way to his own bed, tucks himself in and tries to get some sleep.

‘Jongin?’ comes a sheepish voice, and Jongin’s eyes fly wide open.

‘Yeah?’

Silence curls into the space between their beds as Jongin’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting, hoping.

Loving.

‘Soo? What is it?’ he ventures to ask, throwing his covers back and sitting up to look at the lump Kyungsoo’s formed on his bed. The singer only turns around, still wrapped up in his sheets, owlish eyes finding Jongin’s immediately, even in the dark. Jongin tries to remember to breathe.

Kyungsoo just stares at him for what has to be a full minute, and Jongin stares blankly back, ribcage an invisible warzone as he tries not to break. Kyungsoo just lifts his covers wordlessly, gesturing for Jongin to come lie down with him.

To hold him, to keep him safe.

Please, is all his eyes have to say, and Jongin feels his limbs automatically moving to position himself around his hyung. He can only pray Kyungsoo can’t feel the erratic beating of his heart, bare chest up against the elder’s clothed back. ‘Goodnight, Soo,’ whispers Jongin, only because he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak. He gets no reply.

This isn’t the first time Kyungsoo’s invited Jongin into his bed, and yet the younger still can’t really get himself used to it. He shuts his eyes.

They lie like that - arm around waist, body to body, slivers of skin stealing heat from each other - the only thing that's not in sync, really, is the beating of their hearts.

(Jongin's is running a marathon, and Kyungsoo's is a slow sink into unconsciousness.)




Sometimes, when Kyungsoo has especially bad dreams, Jongin ends up with fingers digging into his waist, bruises that tell of tortured flesh willing to do anything to soothe an equally tortured soul. Sometimes residual soreness from his previous injuries erupt into searing pain from Kyungsoo’s actions, but he takes it all, does everything he can to calm Kyungsoo down, even if it means hurting himself in the process.

When morning comes and Kyungsoo is alright again, Jongin does his best to hide his reddened flesh under the bedcovers, only moving when Kyungsoo’s left the room.

Sometimes he even finds himself pressing his own fingers as hard as he dares into his sides, just above where Kyungsoo’s marks are. He does it despite his nerve endings telling him he shouldn’t, does it just to make the redness linger a little longer, to have a physical mark of Kyungsoo dependance on him last just that much longer -

It never really works.

The marks Kyungsoo makes always give way to the misshapen ones Jongin’s desperation leaves, in the end.





Jongin has been in love since before the name list for Exo had been announced, Kyungsoo knows. He’d seen it building, watched as Jongin’s eyes refused to leave Kyungsoo when he thought the elder wasn’t looking. He’d been aware that he’d managed to get hold of a heart that many had been certain was akin to a butterfly - elusive and delicate, near impossible to catch.

He knows he holds Jongin’s heart in his hands, but he’s too afraid of what that means to close his fingers around it and admit ownership.

He’s too scared to rip his own heart out of his chest to give to Jongin for safekeeping.

His heart conquers his mind every night when he lets Jongin pull him close, but it refuses to back down and admit defeat long enough for him to express any kind of affection. His face is the picture of blissful indifference - he stops himself from kissing Jongin every morning when he wakes up before the younger does, drops the smile that tends to form on his lips as he watches Jongin sleep before he wakes up.

He almost gets caught, once - Jongin’s the one having a nightmare for a change, and his eyes fly open quick enough to catch the look of adoration Kyungsoo’s wearing by the glow of the rising sun filtering through their curtains.

He only has to blink before the smile disappears again.




It’s ironic, Jongin thinks, that he’s so willing to pour his entire heart and soul into dancing onstage. His body moves as naturally as his heart beats, effortless body rolls and sway of his hips eliciting screams and shouts for more from a faceless audience he won’t remember. And yet, when it comes to Kyungsoo… Jongin folds in on himself at the very thought of telling the vocalist how he feels, missing a step and falling, injuring his waist and warranting another trip to the hospital.

‘Do you have, like, a for hardwood floors or something?’ Sehun asks, twiddling his thumbs as he waits with Jongin to get the latter’s prescription of painkillers. His old bottle still has a few pills left, but the manager had insisted on stocking up - they were due to go to Japan soon, Jongin had lots of practice to complete and he needed to be on top form for it all.

‘Shut up, Sehuna,’ Jongin murmurs. He makes to get up and go to the counter to pay for and collect his pills, but Sehun is quicker than he is. The younger pulls his wallet out and gives the pharmacist a smile and a rushed autograph, before offering an arm out to help Jongin into their van.

They stop by the SM building on their way back to the dorm, where Jongin gets an earful from their superiors. Strings of angry words ambush his ears and run straight to his heart, and by the end of his scolding he’s sure the tears in his eyes are more from emotional pain than they are physical. Sehun waits for him outside the door and wordlessly offers his arm again, lets Jongin lean on him as they make their way back to the van.

The drive back to the dorm is quiet, and Sehun doesn’t make a sound as Jongin’s tears wet the fabric covering his shoulder.

‘I don’t want to be fussed over,’ mumbles Jongin when Sehun manages to get their front door open and Junmyeon looks about ready to personally nurse him back to health for the next month. ‘I just need rest.’

He lets them help him to his and Kyungsoo’s bedroom. The door swings open and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen when he catches sight of Jongin - he’s by his side in a flash, concern clear in his eyes as the rest of the members leave.

‘What happened?’ he asks, but Jongin just shakes his head. Kyungsoo understands and starts helping him undress, lips pressed tightly together to keep the worry in his throat from spilling over. By the time Jongin’s dressed and ready for bed, he’s exhausted, every muscle in his body begging him to let them rest.

It takes everything in Kyungsoo not to kiss him on the forehead.

‘Soo,’ Jongin breathes, when Kyungsoo comes back from the bathroom, clean and ready for bed. He turns to look at Jongin, eyebrows raised, ready to get the younger anything he might need.

Please, doesn’t manage to leave Jongin’s lips when he holds up his covers, scooting over just enough so Kyungsoo understands what he wants. Kyungsoo’s never slept in Jongin’s bed before - he’s the one that’s always having the nightmares, he’s the one who always ends up summoning Jongin in his sleep.

The change in location is a step Kyungsoo isn’t sure he’s ready to take.

The look in Jongin’s eyes has him crawling into his arms anyway, face to face, so different from their usual position in Kyungsoo’s bed.

Kyungsoo doesn't let his fingers curl around Jongin's when the younger gathers all his courage and carefully presses their palms together. The stiffness hurts but Jongin would rather feel fire than ice and Kyungsoo makes his chest feel warm enough that he doesn't notice the shadows of frost still lingering in the air between them.





There are times when Kyungsoo finds it especially difficult to breathe, only managing to strangle oxygen from the air when he is in Jongin’s arms at night. The warmth of the younger pressed against his back tells of a certain kind of safety he thinks is undefiable, as if in those arms, he has found his own sacred haven. Nothing can touch him there.

Jongin has, unbeknownst to himself, become Kyungsoo’s own personal oxygen tank, keeping him alive not in a physical sense, maybe, but in a human sense.

He feels like he’s just Do Kyungsoo when he’s with Jongin, sasaengs and microphones and cameras falling away to fade into a clean canvas of serenity.

Kyungsoo lets his eyes linger on the curve of Jongin’s lips, the curl of his eyelashes on his cheeks as he sleeps. He presses his own lips together, adoration welling up in his chest as he watches the younger sleep before falling asleep himself.

Maybe, he thinks, it’s time he tells him.

Author's Note: Hi guys! If you like Big Bang pls go take a listen to this absolutely BEAAUAUUUTTIYLFULLL cover of Loser that my friend did! 

(Also that I wrote the lyrics for) (Heheh)