Inspired by this and this brilliant twitter fic/convo between amelioratedays and noisestorms, thanks for letting me write this <3
 

~~

Most people view Jinyoung as the moody one, the sensitive one, and therefore the one that more often needs comforting.

Which is true, but somehow “more often” is generalized to “always”, and people forget there are times when Jaebum needs the same.

But Jinyoung never forgets.

~~

“Rough day?” Though the words form a question Jinyoung’s voice drops at the end, stating the deduction like an observed fact. Jaebum shrugs, nonchalant as he takes off his coat, tossing it over the back of a chair, but the tense coil of his muscles and the stiffness of his shoulders give him away.

Usually, Jinyoung would be complaining about the residual snow melting off Jaebum’s jacket and onto the floor he just cleaned (okay maybe not just cleaned, but a week ago was soon enough), but today he just sidles up to Jaebum, welcoming him into his warmth with open arms.

Jaebum accepts the invitation readily, stepping into his embrace while nuzzling into the juncture of Jinyoung’s shoulder and neck, shocking him with his cold nose and the dust of light snow falling from the top of his head when he leans down. Usually, Jinyoung would be leaping away, yelping and laughing as he smacks Jaebum’s shoulder, whining about the cold and the mess.

But not today.

Jinyoung doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He knows Jaebum will talk when he’s ready, after the right kind of subtle coaxing. Jinyoung’s the one that needs the constant verbal assurance, the naggy sort of prodding that he claims to be annoying but they both know is the reassurance he craves. It’s only after his insecurities are assuaged, that he opens up.

Jaebum, on the other hand, clams up if you push too hard. He closes off, insisting he’s fine when he’s not, carefully storing away every bit of resentment, frustration, and unsureness in carefully compartmentalized boxes. But if anything is for sure it’s that one day his tidy boxes won’t be able to hold in any more. Every last pent up emotion will come tumbling out, and the ones that are caught in the avalanche are always both of them.

So Jinyoung just holds him, and lets Jaebum hold him back, breathing in each other’s scent and letting their heartbeats calm to one strong, steady rhythm.

“Food’s on the table already, but I think I’ll make a soup tonight too, hmm?” Jinyoung finally mumbles the words against Jaebum’s ear and in return feels a brush of lips on the side of his neck. He shivers reflexively, and in response can feel the slight curve of Jaebum’s lips under his ear.

“Okay…now go!” Jinyoung pushes Jaebum away playfully only to pull him back in for a quick kiss, an unsatisfying peck before he darts back into the kitchen. This gets a smile out of Jaebum, small but genuine nonetheless.

Dinner is a quiet affair, but they’ve long passed the point of needing meaningless words to fill the silence. But tonight, the mood is a bit heavier, each a little more wrapped up in their own thoughts. These kinds of thoughts are always heavy, but when gazes are exchanged across the table, the loads are shared and somehow, somehow it becomes easier to breathe.

“You’re a keeper, you know that?” Jaebum finally breaks the silence when Jinyoung brings out the soup, still steaming but not too hot as he ladles it into their bowls.

“Of course I do,” Jinyoung sniffs but he can’t hide his pleasure at Jaebum’s words, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards.

Jaebum laughs aloud this time at Jinyoung’s expression and Jinyoung’s smile grows, relief evident in the way his own shoulders sag with the next exhale.

“So.”

It’s one word, but that one word is all that’s needed. Silence fills the apartment again, but this time, it’s with suspense, anticipating what’s to come.

“It’s…nothing really. The usual.” Jaebum finally speaks, fingers idly spinning his chopsticks. “You know how it goes.”

Jinyoung’s silent, waiting for more, but when that’s all Jaebum seems able to give at the moment, he nods, biting back a sigh.

“I’ll do the dishes then, you go get washed up. If it’s the usual you must be exhausted, and you look it too. Wait for me in bed.”

Jaebum’s brow visibly furrows into a frown at these words, clearly unwilling, but then Jinyoung sends him one of those looks and he’s immediately closing his mouth, shuffling off to the bathroom without another word.

When Jaebum leaves Jinyoung finally allows his sigh to escape, eyes closing briefly in fatigue. He’s not physically tired; it’s hard to be, when all you’ve been doing the entire day is sit at a desk, or even better yet, curled up on the couch and writing. But it’s like Jaebum’s exhaustion had seeped into his own bones, rendering him sluggish and tired.

He cleans up the table and finishes off the dishes all on autopilot, and when he comes back to his senses he’s already walking into the bathroom, stepping into the shower.

And then he’s on autopilot again, consciousness not needed for the mundane tasks as the rest of his mind begins to work. Words are already beginning to weave together, spinning and twirling as they piece together in meter and rhyme. Sometimes they stick and sometimes they dance away, a continuous cycle, a rotation where links are added on to form chains.

But these chains don’t bind and they never restrain; their only purpose is to hold together.

When Jinyoung finally steps into their bedroom, Jaebum isn’t in bed. It doesn’t take long for him to locate the hunched silhouette out on the balcony. As Jinyoung approaches the patio door it becomes clear Jaebum’s dressed in way too little, and his fingers must already have been frozen stiff with the way they’re fumbling unsuccessfully with his lighter.

“Yah Im Jaebum!” Jinyoung yanks the door open roughly and similarly yanks Jaebum inside. “What are you doing? Are you trying to get frostbite?!”

Jaebum, at the very least, has the decency to look sheepish, letting Jinyoung confiscate his cigarettes and lighter and fuss over his shivering state without protest.

“Seriously, what were you thinking! If you have to smoke do it inside, not give yourself hypothermia!” Jinyoung’s pulled him into bed, hands coming up to rub warmth back into Jaebum’s own frozen ones. When Jaebum continues to shiver, though, Jinyoung curses under his breath, temporarily leaving his side to crank up their heater before returning to bed, taking Jaebum’s hands in his own once more.

“I don’t like to smoke inside,” Jaebum finally says quietly and Jinyoung pauses in his movements, hearing the unspoken words hanging between Jaebum’s pauses.

I won’t force any more of my own flaws on you.

“I’d rather you not smoke at all, but if you have to, I prefer you died from lung cancer later, not hypothermia now,” Jinyoung snaps back, but rather than anger it’s the worry that’s most biting.

“I won’t leave you,” Jaebum immediately says back without even needing to think, but the words are anything but thoughtless. And of course Jinyoung softens at that, his movements becoming more gentle as Jaebum pulls him in closer.

“We’ve been over this, you’re stuck with me forever. If you tried to leave I’d drag you back anyways,” Jinyoung mutters, almost petulant. Jaebum laughs, gently pulling his hands from Jinyoung’s grasp to wrap the blankets around both of them, before they find their way back to Jinyoung’s again. And then he’s tugging at him, scooting up on the bed to lean his back against the headboard, pulling Jinyoung in to sit between his legs, arms wrapped around his torso so they’re sitting back to chest.

For a while Jaebum just closes his eyes, letting his chin drop to rest on Jinyoung’s shoulder as he takes in his warmth, letting it engulf all of his senses. Jinyoung begins to hum quietly, head dropping to allow his eyes to trace the faded notes on his forearm. It’s a simple melody just barely legible after his shower, but Jinyoung doesn’t need to look at the notes anyways. He’s long since memorized them since Jaebum first inked them onto his skin two days prior.

When Jinyoung’s final note tapers off into silence, Jaebum is finally ready.

“They said it didn’t fit the album’s concept.”

At this Jinyoung wants to turn around so he can face Jaebum and look into his eyes, but Jaebum doesn’t let him, arms tightening around his waist to hold him in place. Jinyoung’s never been able to overpower him anyways, so he stills, and waits anxiously.

Because he knows what expression Jaebum has on his face. He knows that exact expression, the pained and guilty one, where his eyes are downcast and teeth are clenched.

But it isn’t Jaebum’s fault. It had been a conscious decision on their part, both of them, to pursue their dreams together. Even if it meant they were now stuck in this dingy apartment with a perpetually moldy smell. They knew the potential risks and consequences, but had chosen it anyways because it meant being together every day.

Jaebum composed and produced songs, a part of that pack of C-list producers who constantly submitted their products to entertainment companies in hopes that their songs would be chosen. With Jaebum’s ability, it wasn’t all that hard to get his stuff bought by someone, but having it be by an artist popular enough for him to make much off royalties was always rather hit or miss. Jinyoung, on the other hand, wrote poetry for whatever publications he could, and sometimes, when things got rough, even prose, short stories, and columns.

It was an unstable lifestyle, and more often than not they both had to pick up side jobs just to pay their bills. And while they weren’t too bad off, there was always an ever present doubt. Had they made the right decision?

Even now, Jinyoung knows Jaebum is doubting. And Jinyoung just wants to cup his face, peppering his jaw with kisses until it was no longer locked and stiff, and then kiss all the guilt away.

But he waits.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s as if all the strength drains from Jaebum’s limbs with these two words, and Jinyoung is immediately turning around, flipping their positions as he tugs Jaebum down so his back is pressed against the mattress.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Jinyoung whispers fiercely. “Your songs are too good to give to some random idol group anyways. I would know.”

Jaebum tries to smile, for Jinyoung, always for Jinyoung, but the attempt is pathetic. Something snaps inside of Jinyoung and he’s tugging off Jaebum’s shirt, throwing it off to the side to bare Jaebum’s chest. And then he’s swooping down, lips fervent as he maps out the expanse across Jaebum’s collarbones, his neck, down the center of his chest to his stomach. First it’s gentle pecks and butterfly kisses but it soon turns to urgent ling, immediately followed by a tongue swiping across the red to soothe.

Jaebum groans, but it’s more of a broken keen. Jinyoung doesn’t stop, but his right hand is now reaching out, groping the bedside table until it wraps around that familiar ink pen.

Jinyoung sits up, straddling Jaebum’s hips and surveys his work. Already, patches of red and purple are beginning to blossom, and Jinyoung knows they will only grow darker as the night goes on. Jaebum’s eyes have slipped shut, anticipating what’s to come, and Jinyoung doesn’t keep him waiting.

With the first of black on smooth skin Jaebum shivers, the ink cold against his now almost feverish skin. Jinyoung doesn’t start with words this time but with rather broad instead, smooth curves with ends tapering off to fine points. He draws flowers on Jaebum’s chest, the red and purple underneath giving the illusion of splattered paint, perhaps watercolors, faint but growing bolder with each additional brushstroke.

As he draws, the words from before start coming back, the pre-linked chains uncoiling in his mind, sliding into order. The last few single links finally find their place, and Jinyoung begins to write.

The heat from Jinyoung’s grip has warmed the pen by now, so the ink that flows out is no longer so shockingly cold, but a trail of warmth. Jinyoung starts on the tip of a flower petal, following the path of the line down towards Jaebum’s heart. There, the words become more condense, as if trying to fit as much as possible in that small space and Jaebum’s breath hitches, as if Jinyoung’s really etching his poems onto his heart.

From there, the script begins to expand, font growing bigger and bolder as it trails down Jaebum’s abs. Jinyoung’s beginning to whisper some of the words aloud, breath puffing against Jaebum’s skin. Sometimes, he nibbles where his pen has just touched, smiling when Jaebum shudders.

With the space filled by flowery script, Jinyoung then scoots upwards, pressing a tender kiss to the underside of Jaebum’s jaw before he moves onto his collarbones. Here, the words are miniscule, delicate and full of fragile adoration and Jaebum sighs, relaxing with every gentle kiss that Jinyoung presses into his skin. When Jinyoung moves onto his arms Jaebum’s eyes finally slide open, all previous guilt pushed aside for b affection instead as he watches Jinyoung work, spine curved and gaze intense as he focuses.

When Jinyoung tries to flip Jaebum over so he can start marking his back, Jaebum stops him, curling a hand into his hair to bring him down for a kiss. Jinyoung’s lips part easily to make way for Jaebum’s tongue, swiping carefully across the tips of his teeth before diving in, taking Jinyoung’s breath away. Now it’s Jinyoung who shudders and Jaebum finally backs out, only to catch Jinyoung’s bottom lip with his couplets as he on them gently, carefully drawing out a moan.

Satisfied, Jaebum flips onto his stomach of his own accord, propping himself halfway up on his elbows so he can examine his arms, Jinyoung settling his weight on his waist behind him.

As Jaebum reads, his fingers trace the words, lips mouthing the syllables as he slowly begins to commit them to memory. Just as Jinyoung internalizes every melody Jaebum has ever decorated his skin with, Jaebum does the same with Jinyoung’s poems. He stores every promise, every declaration, and every expression of uncertainty into its own box. But these boxes are never a part of those that overflow, and these never tumble down a slippery slope in an avalanche. Instead these boxes form the mountain itself, steadying out the base and rebuilding where loss has dealt its blow.

When Jaebum turns his right arm over to read the inside of his forearm, however, he suddenly bursts into laugher, earning a slap on the back for moving.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you…” Jaebum reads aloud, trailing off only to crane his neck to look back and grin up at Jinyoung, whose eyes have widened with something resembling horror. “How eloquent.”

“Shut up, don’t make fun of me,” Jinyoung flushes, biting his lip as he avoids Jaebum’s gaze, but this only makes him laugh more.

“I’m not making fun of you, poetic use of repetition, right?” Jaebum says indulgently, goofy grin still impossibly wide as he earns another slap on the back.

“Use of repetition my , it’s the meaning you idiot. They say no matter how many times you repeat the words, they’re meaningless if there’s no emotion, no intention behind it. But if there’s– if, if it’s sincere, the one reading it will never tire of the repetition, because every time–”

Jinyoung suddenly breaks off, ducking his head as he begins to slide off of Jaebum’s back, too embarrassed to continue. But Jaebum’s right there to catch him, one hand tugging on his wrist while the other goes up to cup his flushed cheeks.

“I love you too. I love you. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you.” Jaebum matches every one of Jinyoung’s declarations with one of his own, and with each word he drop a kiss on a different part of Jinyoung’s face, the last two over each of Jinyoung’s closed eyelids. “I’ll never tire of reading it, or saying it.”

When Jinyoung’s eyes flutter back open, there’s still a hint of embarrassment, of shyness. But there’s also determination, when he sees Jaebum’s face just as flushed as his own, and a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier in the evening.

“Then you should know I’ll never tire of you, either.”

Eventually, they fall asleep with their limbs intertwined, chest against chest. Jaebum is shirtless and some of the ink smears onto their sheets and pillows but it doesn’t matter, none of it matters.

Their hearts beat as one.

~~

At some point in the night, one heartbeat picks up. A sheen of cold sweat follows, and then a furrowed brow.

Some demons are harder to keep locked up than others, and Jinyoung’s always been a bit of an over-thinker. Unlike Jaebum, he has no tidy little boxes to lock up his emotions. He likes being prepared, covering all possible scenarios of both good and bad, but sometimes his mind stays overactive, whirling with words and images that won’t give him rest even in sleep.

An empty bed. Slammed doors. Tears, screaming, harsh words. Apologies. Shards of glass. Ribbons, I’s and You’s and Hearts. Twisted metal, molten eyes, droplets, pain. Dancing melodies, a runaway clef, a sharp that’s flat and a flat that’s sharp.

Pleading, pleading, pleading, but really, who’s pleading with who?

Jinyoung doesn’t know what he’s more scared of, Jaebum’s tendency towards inferiority and guilt or Jaebum growing tired of him altogether one day. He fears Jaebum will choose to leave him out of misplaced guilt, because of the ridiculous thinking that he doesn’t deserve him. This is why he so painstakingly pens his poems onto Jaebum’s skin, so he can always be reminded of Jinyoung’s love.

But he also fears Jaebum coming to the realization that it was actually the other way around. That it was Jinyoung who didn’t deserve Jaebum’s love, Jaebum’s patience, and Jaebum’s understanding. That one day Jaebum would realize he was the one who had made all the changes, all the sacrifices. Jaebum was the one who had learned to curb his temper, the one who had learned to soften his sharp edges, all for Jinyoung.

When Jaebum wakes in the middle of the night it’s to a wetness on the back of his hand and Jinyoung curled against his chest, eyes screwed shut and moisture pooling in the corners. Jaebum brushes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, knowing all too well about this particular dream.

So this is the time Jaebum whispers all the things he struggles to say aloud when Jinyoung’s awake. He’s learned to say I love you easily, but it’s the other things that bare his heart and leave it so vulnerable that he’s still too prideful (or too much of a coward, take your pick) to say during the day. But now, he whispers the words of love without restraint, and even murmurs nonsensical sweet nothings. Because as Jinyoung likes to say, it’s the emotions behind it that matter, and that’s what finally soothes him, drying his tears and relaxing his brow.

When Jinyoung awakes, it’s to the gentle light peeking through the gaps in their blinds and the cool sensation of ink on his shoulder. Jaebum’s humming lightly, a new melody that’s lighter than most of his other compositions. When Jaebum sees Jinyoung’s lashes flutter open, he smiles, catching him in a lazy kiss before bringing his lips to at his shoulder, no longer having to worry about waking him up as he decorates Jinyoung with watercolor hues to match his own.

It’ll be a while before Jaebum finishes transcribing the perfect melody to match Jinyoung’s lyrics onto his skin, but they have the time. Jinyoung always takes forever to fully regain consciousness anyways. In the meantime he’s completely pliant, letting Jaebum maneuver his limbs however he pleases and even drifts back to sleep for a little longer, comforted by Jaebum’s voice, his gentle touches, and the familiar smell of ink.

They both have too many doubts, too many insecurities, and the promises drawn out in ink are all too temporary. But it doesn’t matter because while it’s there, it serves as a constant reminder, a promise.

With their love as inspiration, there will never be a break to their flow of ink.