~


Blue. 

So much blue.

Other colors filter in. There’s this trick the sun plays on the horizon and then you can also see shades of yellow, orange, pink, purple. The clouds are not just white, but they’re not really grey either. They shift and move slowly, blend with the colors that seem to have been painted there, then go away. The colors go, too.

Blue stays. Gets a little darker. Darker still. 

But before that happens-- before the colors vanish together with the natural light--

The sky is clear, a blue so vivid Chansung already has his camera out, but he’s just holding it while his eyes keep focused on the endless stretch of air above his head. 

A shriek distracts him and he sees Taecyeon running from Nichkhun and Junho, whose clothes have wet spots on them. Chansung laughs, takes a few shots of the three of them running on the shore, water splashing everywhere. He gets a really good one of Taecyeon turning around just before Junho bumps into him, and another of Junho falling -deep in the water while the older two laugh. Chansung is also laughing and misses the chance to photograph Nichkhun pushing Taecyeon into the water, and after that it’s a fun mess that he could join. He settles for a smile of contentment and one last picture of all three running again, this time shirtless and into the sea. 

He finally captures the sky. A seemingly endless blue. Something about it stirs something else within him, soothing but also compelling. His eyes close for a second and he feels the sun on his skin, the perspiration that gets his cotton shirt damp, clinging to his skin bit by bit. He would like to go for a dive later. 

First, more pictures. The glaring sun casting its powerful whiteness into the blue. Trees gently swaying to the breeze-- he wants to be able to catch the gentle movement, and when he looks at the screen it seems to be there. It might just be his eyes, though. 

Some leisure footsteps on the wet sand, right where the water has touched many times through the day but isn’t reaching for right now. It will soon, the tide is rising, but it has started in other places. As if the waves were arms through which the sea could protect the creature now moving across the shore. 

Chansung’s barely aware of his own lips tugging up as he zooms in on Wooyoung, his white woolen shirt flowing just like the waves receding a dozen inches from his feet. His arms are loose on his sides and the sleeves cover part of his hands, and Chansung takes a picture. Wooyoung’s dark brown hair goes everywhere and he makes a disgruntled yet adorable face while pulling it back. Another picture. Wooyoung also tugs at the shirt as if he would like to get rid of it but he just leaves it hanging on his shoulders, loose and exposing his clavicle. Chansung swallows, but his fingers don’t hesitate. They click. 

The sound of his own Adam’s apple going down and then up again could not have been that loud but Wooyoung’s staring at him through the lens, and Chansung starts as if caught red-handed. That is how he feels right then, with the way Wooyoung pauses, his face still relaxed but no smile to greet him with. Chansung feels like he invaded his privacy, but then he remembers the conversation they had earlier, when Chansung had taken another picture of him, only that one had been with his cell phone. 

“Don’t you get tired?” Wooyoung had said, when they were all walking on the busy streets of the beachtown, his arm casually thrown around Chansung. He had an easygoing smile on his face, and Chansung recognized that look, one Wooyoung didn’t show often. He was-- glad. Chansung wanted to say happy, but he’d rather know how Wooyoung would describe it himself first instead of labeling it. But there it was, the quiet confidence that took over Wooyoung’s face when he was not worrying about how the rest of the world saw him. He’s always been beautiful, but he looked even more beautiful then, no rehearsed expressions or concealed thoughts to cloud his features. 

“I don’t mind walking, Young hyung,” Chansung said, moving his right arm from under Wooyoung’s so he could embrace his shoulders and let the shorter one settle for hugging his torso instead. Chansung had lagged behind the others as he took pictures of different places and things that caught his attention, and Wooyoung had stopped to catch up with him, so now the two of them were a little away from the rest of the group. They could still see and sometimes hear them, however, as the other four argued about where they should go for lunch. 

“Old maknae,” Wooyoung didn’t even try to sound threatening, he just went along with their ongoing joke. “I meant this, though,” and he pointed at the camera that hung from Chansung’s neck, though he also held it with his left hand to keep it safe. It was also a habit, but he would usually be touching it with his right hand, only it now cradled something more precious to him. The thought and the realization that followed would haunt Chansung for the remaining of the afternoon.

“Oh.” Wooyoung’s words made Chansung pause. The other was about to take a step forward but he stood still, looking up at the maknae with interest. “Do you think I’m overdoing it?”

Wooyoung’s frown was so light it was almost imperceptible, but Chansung still felt the urge to touch his forehead, and so he did. A different light that might just be the sun came into life in Wooyoung’s eyes, but it was gone soon, more fleeting and less obvious than Chansung’s touch. “I know you like photography, but I wonder if you’re enjoying this? Are you living the moment or are you just trying to make it still?”

The question had made Chansung’s heart beat a little faster. Wooyoung was perspicacious, but he didn’t often express his thoughts like that. The fact that he did though, his voice soft and his eyes assessing, left Chansung wondering. Wooyoung didn’t seem to need an answer, he just wanted Chansung to think about it. 

“Beauty won’t last, you know...” Wooyoung looked around them when he said that, but his eyes didn’t linger anywhere. Chansung took in his face, the soft skin of which Wooyoung took good care, the chapped lips whose faint line under the lower lip disappeared once Wooyoung bit into them. He didn’t do that often but Chansung had discovered it could shake him as much as a number of other small discoveries, such as the way Wooyoung’s eyes glinted when he also noticed something. The natural light made his ear look pinkish and Chansung almost let go of him just to trace its contours and feel the warmth from both the sun and its target. 

“We still have a long time, though.”

Wooyoung turned to him again. The words had come out just as the thought hit him, but Chansung didn’t regret saying them out loud for they felt real and true.

“To appreciate beauty,” he added. “Ours and others’... Everything.” He made a wide gesture, and he did regret letting go of Wooyoung’s shoulder for that, because a second later Wooyoung was letting go of him, too. “How about this: I take a picture of something beautiful here, and you take another one?”

Wooyoung didn’t laugh and he tried not to smile, but the amusement was written all over his face. “I know what you’re gonna do--” he seemed a little surprised when Chansung took his cell phone out instead of holding the camera up, but there was a reason for that. The camera was for pictures they might include in a 2PM photobook, the cell phone was for things Chansung didn’t feel like publishing, or things he would post immediately because they felt important at that moment. Wooyoung recovered quickly and smiled. Chansung took a shot, but he took more pictures as they kept talking.

“What will be your something beautiful, hyung?” 

Wooyoung faltered, and Chansung supposed it was because of the way he had called him. It had come out naturally, even though Chansung hardly ever addressed Wooyoung formally, but that hadn’t been his intention. It just-- happened. Then Wooyoung tilted his head to the side, thick strands of hair falling around his head, one caught on the bridge of his nose and almost covering his left eye. The sun was shining against his scalp, on the side, where the hair was cut short. His ear was pinkish, maybe a little orange, Chansung could not really tell right then because he was distracted by Wooyoung lifting a hand to point at him, eyes glinting with something for which Chansung did not have words. 

He still doesn’t have them now, when Wooyoung walks away from the wet sand and closer to where Chansung is, until he’s close enough to snatch the camera from his hands and put it under his own shirt-- against the belly. 

“Enough,” Wooyoung says. Although he still doesn’t sound threatening, he looks serious, so Chansung can’t laugh no matter if it’s out of a sudden sense of trepidation or something else. This is not funny, he tells himself. Wooyoung’s face seems to be stating the same. “We spent the entire day taking pics for that photobook, and there’ll be more of that tomorrow, and I’m tired. Got it?”

Chansung is about to protest, but Wooyoung takes a deep breath just as the maknae opens his mouth to speak. He shuts it, and looks at Wooyoung instead. Reads him. Allows his eyes to take in what’s right before him without any artifacts in the way. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, because he can see Wooyoung is distressed, though he doesn’t know exactly why. 

Wooyoung shakes his head. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

The chuckle escapes him before he can do anything about it. “No.”

There’s another shake of the head, but Wooyoung’s lips curve up the slightest bit. “You should never do that.”

“Okay, hyung.”

“You should never do that either,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows have risen as if to help make a point, one that Chansung pretends to be lost on him.

“I shouldn’t accept whatever my hyung tells me to do?”

“I’m telling you not to do something,” Wooyoung pokes him under the armpit and Chansung’s not ready for that, so he can’t do more than laugh and move to grab at the older one, who’s already taken a step aside. 

“Two things,” Chansung corrects. Wooyoung makes the most perfect ang ang face and Chansung just laughs, even more when the other has to hold onto his arm for support because he misstepped on the uneven, sandy ground. 

“Four-- no, five things,” Wooyoung says, and holds his free hand up in front of him. 

Chansung waits, his curiosity piquing as Wooyoung takes the shirt off-- Chansung’s breath catches, seconds of unexpected torture as his eyes want to look and register what they’ve seen so many times already but not like this-- and the camera is carefully placed on top of the shirt. That won’t protect it from the sea air, but Chansung doesn’t have to worry. Wooyoung’s already looking for the case Chansung had left near the pile with all their stuff: some folding chairs they had brought from the hotel, footwear, a thermal bag with water and a newspaper Nichkhun had bought on their way here. Chansung watches as Wooyoung’s slim, graceful fingers find the black case in the same bag where the newspaper is, and he can’t take his eyes off even after Wooyoung’s already put the camera away, looking up at the maknae as if he were the one waiting now. 

Wooyoung pokes him lightly on the arm and Chansung looks at the finger before looking at his face. “So, five things,” Wooyoung starts, his eyes showing what seems like pleasure, features taken over by diversion. Then he stares at Chansung with keenness that makes the latter feel pinned to the ground. “Don’t apologize, don’t call me hyung, don’t take any more pictures of me or any of us until tomorrow,” Wooyoung pauses, his eyes narrowing a little as his voice drops to a softer, almost secretive tone. “Don’t post pictures that are meant just for you.”

And Chansung understands, then, why Wooyoung took the camera away from him, why he seemed upset and Chansung had wanted to apologize. He had posted two pictures on Twitter earlier that day-- one Wooyoung had taken of him still in the morning, after telling Chansung he should taste a little of his own medicine, and the other one, from when they were on the street, Wooyoung pointing at him, a moment-- a moment that was meant just for them. A picture that was meant just for Chansung. At first he didn’t really want to post that picture, but the more he stared at it, at Wooyoung’s eyes and face, the more it affected him, and that was unsettling. So he posted it, and thought of deleting it from his phone, but now he’s relieved he didn’t. He feels like apologizing again, but Wooyoung’s already holding his hand up in warning.

“One more thing to make it five.” Wooyoung takes one step closer, eyes bright with what could only be the meaning behind his next words. “Don’t waste your chance, and don’t think too hard.”

“That’s six--” but Wooyoung is running away, screaming like a child. He’s running in the opposite direction of where the other three are-- four, Chansung can see Minjun has joined them and they’re all playing in the water now. Taecyeon’s trying to float while Junho looks for a moment of distraction when he’ll get to push him underwater, Minjun and Nichkhun are half dancing half skipping waves-- and those few seconds of distraction make Chansung almost lose sight of him.

Almost.

He spots Wooyoung going around a group of huge rocks that spread from the trees all across the coast through the sand and into the sea. It’s not possible or commendable to move that fast since there’s a lot of water there and the rocks make it dangerous, so Chansung catches up with him easily. He can hear Wooyoung laughing, his face open and beaming when he looks back at the maknae, whose heart nearly stops at the sight. It only keeps beating, faster and louder by that, because Chansung is determined to get to Wooyoung and-- and what? He’s trying not to think too hard, he is, but Chansung has always had too many thoughts running through his head to be able to contain all of them at once-- especially when he’s confused. He needs to sort this out. He needs to find the words that have evaded him.

“Youngie,” Chansung calls, hearing another laugh that makes his heart soar. Wooyoung sounds giddy. He’s having fun. He’s also running through a path between the rocks and turning around to make a face at the younger one. Chansung’s too delighted by all this to mind the fact that his pants, which he was careful to keep dry all day, are now wet up to his thighs. The sunlight will not last enough for them to dry before they head back to the hotel. “Youngie?” he calls again, because Wooyoung turned around one of the rocks and Chansung’s not hearing anything besides the sea, distant shouts and laughter that seem to be coming from miles away now. 

“Here!” 

Chansung follows Wooyoung’s voice, and that’s to the left. He’s pushed and pulled onto the sand as soon as he goes around the rock, and he’s fighting Wooyoung off him out of pure reflex before he realizes what’s really going on. Wooyoung’s smiling down at him when Chansung stops, one hand grabbing Wooyoung’s slender fingers while the other grips at Wooyoung’s other wrist. He loosens the hold but doesn’t let go, and Wooyoung blinks slowly, as slowly as his fingers slide in between Chansung’s until they’re entwined. 

Chansung’s breath feels heavy, and it becomes noisier the more Wooyoung leans in, their clasped hands falling gradually but purposefully next to Chansung’s head, Wooyoung’s not-so-free hand sliding up Chansung’s chest, reaching up for his neck and settling there. Their faces are so close Chansung knows his is not the only erratic breathing, and his is not the only quickened heartbeat. Wooyoung’s sitting on his belly. Wooyoung’s looking into his eyes and at his lips and at his eyes again. Chansung’s still gently holding his wrist, while Wooyoung’s thumb his neck in a way that makes Chansung’s mouth go dry. 

And he finds words are not what he should be looking for here.

Chansung captures him. His lips, his nape, his hair. They click. Wooyoung squeezes his hand just as Chansung parts his lips and Wooyoung dives in, the air escapes him or maybe Chansung’s just breathing, breathing Wooyoung in, Wooyoung out, he’s tracing Wooyoung’s lips with his own, feeling their shape. And then it’s Wooyoung’s tongue savoring him and Chansung’s breathless and dizzy and gripping at Wooyoung’s hair as if that could give him some sense of the ground he could barely feel under his back now. 

He doesn’t think. It’s not just an echo of Wooyoung telling him not to, he just can’t. He’s taking a shot at something he can’t define, something he’s capturing even though it’s not meant to be captured. Wooyoung’s capturing him. Wooyoung’s also taking a shot at this.

Wooyoung kisses down his neck. Wooyoung’s kisses remain on his skin. 

Chansung trembles under him. 

His mind registers everything. His body understands what his heart cannot. 

The sky above them begins to lose its clarity as it shifts into a darker shade of blue. The clouds gather here and there, as slow and sneaky as Wooyoung’s hands and lips continuously taking Chansung’s breath away. Colors come to life and fade away unnoticed, unpictured as Chansung’s thoughts also fade into nothingness, his own body moving and reacting in ways he would not have pictured happening before. 

They stay there until the sun disappears below the horizon. The blue of the sky remains there, only darker. Chansung’s not trying to make it still.


~