Teacups and Shy Smiles

During class, Kai texts his friends and makes sure Kyungsoo notices, because Kai likes the flutter of gentle chiding against the back of his neck. A message from Kai vibrating in Kyungsoo’s pocket silences the constant hum of do you want to fail goodness hey pay attention. Kyungsoo tries to wipe the smile off his face but fails.

Lack of concentration results in Kai’s abysmal grades, which is why they have Daily Tutoring Sessions at their apartment. (Kyungsoo insisted on giving it a name, “to make it official,” he said, and Kai shrugged a whatever-floats-your-boat and was rewarded with a huge grin.) Sometimes when Kai is working, Kyungsoo gets up distractedly and polishes a few teacups sitting on a wooden shelf. “My mother’s collection,” he explains sadly when Kai lifts his eyes off the paper. “She used to polish these every day.”

Kai likes to say that Kyungsoo has a disorder called Cares Too Much, so Kyungsoo promptly diagnoses Kai with Cares Too Little, and Kai doesn’t snap back because he’s too busy congratulating himself on hiding his feelings so well. Kai wishes he had the courage to confess to Kyungsoo, but unfortunately, feeling is much easier than expressing.

They’re both still inexperienced, and gracefulness isn’t automatic. Kai’s hands are clumsy when he’s doing up his tie; Kyungsoo’s hands are too when they’re gliding down Kai’s back, so they help each other out amidst shy smiles and burning cheeks.

Kai’s hands are also clumsy when he’s trying to polish teacups with Kyungsoo. In five minutes Kyungsoo has a row of sparkling cups sitting beside him while Kai frowns down at his second.

They have two separate bedrooms. Guests perceive Kyungsoo as a neat freak because his room is so tidy that it looks unused – and that’s because it’s the truth. Every night, Kyungsoo tucks Kai in before heading to his own room, but Kai’s soft hyung… hyung where are you going coaxes Kyungsoo’s hand off the doorknob and into Kai’s hand instead.

Sometimes in the middle of silence and dreams, Kai whispers, “Hyung… never leave me,” and Kyungsoo squeezes Kai’s hand a little tighter.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Kai drifts back to sleep but Kyungsoo smiles up at the ceiling the whole night, darkness covering his blush and soft snores muffling his pounding heartbeat.

But Kyungsoo has to leave for a few days to attend his mother’s service. Kai’s not allowed to go because he can’t afford to miss any more days of school or he will fail. When they hug, Kai tries to radiate comfort and strength. At the same time he hopes that the hug wasn’t simply a brotherly one but he really isn’t sure because how long is a brotherly hug and how long is a loving hug oh how am I supposed to know.

He tries making Kyungsoo’s signature spaghetti dish but ends up with a glob of burned noodles, seasoned with loneliness. He walks himself to school; it’s raining today and his umbrella is too big for only one person so he closes it because having no one to share with makes him sadder than having wet hair. He tucks himself in bed, holds his own hand, sings himself to sleep.

Kyungsoo returns one evening, pushing open the door to see Kai’s open textbook on the table, surrounded by pencils and papers. There’s no one sitting in the chair but there’s someone standing at the wooden shelf, a cloth in one hand and a teacup in the other. Hesitant smiles precede the long hug, and in this moment they realize that when you’re desperately in love, expressing is just as simple as feeling.