[fic]
title: Still The Same
rating: PG
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Hyukjae/Donghae
summary: He doesn’t think it on purpose, it just appears, right there inside of his head.
comments: I kind of missed this pairing. And I can't write Hyukjae.
One day Hyukjae thinks I love Donghae. He doesn’t think it on purpose, it just appears, right there inside of his head, fully formed and completely true. He’s eating a hurried bowl of cereal on a morning where it feels entirely too early to even be awake, not that that’s unusual, and somewhere between his fifth and sixth spoonful of sugary goodness and milk, the thought appears. Just like that. Maybe it’s because he can hear Donghae’s voice just beyond the kitchen, strangely loud even in the bustle of the morning, singing some American song to himself. It makes him feel kind of warm inside.
It’s not a particularly stunning revelation, not to Hyukjae, at least not whilst he’s too busy trying to finish his cereal, get dressed, and leave for some crazy, schedule filled day. Although, in all honesty, if he was to think about when or how or why it might have started happening, he really wouldn’t have been sure.
When? Anytime between years of good friendship. How? With bright laughter and a pair of arms seeking attention. Why? Why not.
As he sits in the mini-van with almost half of the other members, makes loud, stupid jokes and a general nuisance of himself, Hyukjae figures it’s nothing he really needs to worry about, although, if he thinks on it some more later, it might start to scare him. Just a little. But then Kangin aims a punch at his shoulder for a bad joke Hyukjae just made, and he stops thinking about love, and Donghae, and thoughts, for the rest of the ride.
He doesn’t think about it again until later, backstage after a rehearsal for a performance, and Donghae’s suddenly at his side, nudging Hyukjae’s hip with his own and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Hold me,” he says, a breathless kind of smile on his face as he drapes himself over Hyukjae. “I think I’m going to die.”
Hyukjae smacks him in the arm and laughs. “Go away, I’m not your personal resting post.” And then he finds himself thinking, he kind of does want to hold Donghae, and keep him from dying.
Another day, and Hyukjae is just simply playing a video game, there was no one else to coerce into playing with, so he’s on his own, fighting against the game. There’s a shout behind him, some kind of battle cry, and then he finds himself on the floor, buried under a pile of Donghae. The game controller digs into his hip, and Donghae is just about crushing his legs and laughing much too loudly right by his ear, and that thought strikes Hyukjae again. And he can’t get rid of it, for the rest of the day.
It strikes him one night as he’s supposed to be sleeping, that he doesn’t actually know how Donghae feels. It’s not like either of them have ever said or done anything. They’ve never been more than friends, and before the whole thought, strangely whole and so convincingly true, had popped into Hyukjae’s head for the first time, he’d never really considered more, either. Not that he’d realised, anyway.
He really doesn’t know how Donghae would think, or feel, about this though. And that thought should probably disturb Hyukjae more, and maybe it does, a little, maybe that’s why he can’t sleep, but it doesn’t bother him too much. Not really. He wonders if perhaps he’s taking far too casual an approach to this whole thing, but then he remembers that it’s about Donghae, Donghae who isn’t new to him, Donghae who he’s been friends with for years. Donghae, and everything is just easy and natural and normal and comfortable around him, so Hyukjae figures, logically, why should this be any different?
Hyukjae doesn’t think about it before he does it. Really. But no one’s around and the idea just pops into his head (as they tend to do lately) so he doesn’t even consider it, not for a second, before he kisses Donghae.
Donghae seems surprised, and Hyukjae can feel a shoulder tense beneath the palm of his hand, but he doesn’t stop. He guesses this might be his way of telling Donghae, since saying it out loud seems kind of stupid to him. And maybe just a little bit scary, for all his feigned casual-attitude towards the whole thing.
It’s clear he’s caught his friend by surprise, and after only a moment Hyukjae feels a hand on his shoulder push them apart. Donghae’s eyes are wide as they search Hyukjae’s face, and once again Hyukjae finds that thought floating to the top of his head, insistent and thicker than ever.
Hyukjae bites back the thought, pushes it away from his throat, and Donghae doesn’t say a word.
Later, a hot bowl in one hand and a mouthful of noodles, Hyukjae contemplates that perhaps it hadn’t been the right thing to do. It seems almost obvious enough that Donghae does not have a similar thought popping in his mind at random intervals, like Hyukjae. But, he concludes, slurping loudly at his noodles, it’s difficult to be too worried about it, when nothing seems to have changed. Donghae still laughs with him, still jokes and plays with him, still bugs him and seeks attention from him, still hugs him for no reason and smiles at him when he’s tired.
So, maybe Hyukjae’s a little sad, that Donghae didn’t kiss him back, but it’s hard to be too sad, when everything else is still the same.
He kind of stops thinking about it, and almost manages to ignore that thought whenever it appears in his mind out of nowhere, and he thinks he’s done pretty well, too. Until he’s woken up one night by cold feet against his legs and a familiar voice, too loud even when in a whisper, close to his ear.
“Hyukjae, I think I saw a ghost.”
And it’s stupid, Hyukjae knows Donghae didn’t see a ghost, not a real one, and maybe even Donghae knows he didn’t see a ghost. But, he asks Hyukjae, in a warm rush of breath against the side of his face, to stay with him, and there’s that thought again, fully formed and perfectly true, glaringly obvious at the front of his mind.
“You’re an idiot, you didn’t see a ghost,” he admonishes Donghae in a sleepy grumble. But he doesn’t push him away, and instead just tugs the blanket over them both, even though Hyukjae knows come morning Donghae will have stolen the entire thing, and managed to leave Hyukjae with none.
Dance practice, and Hyukjae and Donghae are the only two left dancing. They have a small routine of their own to practice until perfect, after all. Hyukjae hasn’t had the thought for days. Not until Donghae shuffles over to him and drops his head onto Hyukjae’s shoulder. The thought tends to do that though, appear along with Donghae.
“I think I’m gonna die,” he whines tiredly.
“Drama queen,” Hyukjae accuses, though he winds an arm around Donghae’s waist, feels just as worn out as his friend.
Donghae looks up at him, slowly, as if it’s an effort even just to raise his head. “Do you really think so?”
Not sure why, but Hyukjae thinks, is almost certain, there is more behind those words than their first meaning. But his answer is casual and without fault, as he shrugs and looks back at Donghae. “A little, sometimes.”
Donghae seems to consider the words; thinks over them far more seriously than he really should be, before he lowers his head to Hyukjae’s shoulder again, arms finding their way around his waist. “Hm,” he sounds thoughtfully.
And its then that Hyukjae finds himself thinking, that whatever he thought was missing, hiding behind the illusion of casual words, are actually the things that Donghae - that neither of them, really - don’t say. The words between the words. And it doesn’t matter, what he thinks, or what he might say, or even if he kisses Donghae, in the end it doesn’t matter, because it all amounts to the same thing. And maybe Donghae understands.
He hopes Donghae understands, because Hyukjae doesn’t, not really.
And on second thought, maybe all those things are just stupid, pointless thoughts because he’s tired, and in love with the guy leaning against him. Hyukjae’s not sure either way. And he’s not sure it matters too much, really.
“Maybe,” Donghae adds a few moments later, quietly. It sounds like there are a hundred maybes hidden inside the one word.
Nothing is different, nothing has changed, as they stand in the dance room together, nothing is different then as it was years ago. They’re still friends. They still joke, and laugh, and tease, and play, and practice. Nothing at all is different.
And maybe that’s just the way things are supposed to be between them. Whether Hyukjae has the thought or not.
- end -
rating: PG
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Hyukjae/Donghae
summary: He doesn’t think it on purpose, it just appears, right there inside of his head.
comments: I kind of missed this pairing. And I can't write Hyukjae.
One day Hyukjae thinks I love Donghae. He doesn’t think it on purpose, it just appears, right there inside of his head, fully formed and completely true. He’s eating a hurried bowl of cereal on a morning where it feels entirely too early to even be awake, not that that’s unusual, and somewhere between his fifth and sixth spoonful of sugary goodness and milk, the thought appears. Just like that. Maybe it’s because he can hear Donghae’s voice just beyond the kitchen, strangely loud even in the bustle of the morning, singing some American song to himself. It makes him feel kind of warm inside.
It’s not a particularly stunning revelation, not to Hyukjae, at least not whilst he’s too busy trying to finish his cereal, get dressed, and leave for some crazy, schedule filled day. Although, in all honesty, if he was to think about when or how or why it might have started happening, he really wouldn’t have been sure.
When? Anytime between years of good friendship. How? With bright laughter and a pair of arms seeking attention. Why? Why not.
As he sits in the mini-van with almost half of the other members, makes loud, stupid jokes and a general nuisance of himself, Hyukjae figures it’s nothing he really needs to worry about, although, if he thinks on it some more later, it might start to scare him. Just a little. But then Kangin aims a punch at his shoulder for a bad joke Hyukjae just made, and he stops thinking about love, and Donghae, and thoughts, for the rest of the ride.
He doesn’t think about it again until later, backstage after a rehearsal for a performance, and Donghae’s suddenly at his side, nudging Hyukjae’s hip with his own and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Hold me,” he says, a breathless kind of smile on his face as he drapes himself over Hyukjae. “I think I’m going to die.”
Hyukjae smacks him in the arm and laughs. “Go away, I’m not your personal resting post.” And then he finds himself thinking, he kind of does want to hold Donghae, and keep him from dying.
Another day, and Hyukjae is just simply playing a video game, there was no one else to coerce into playing with, so he’s on his own, fighting against the game. There’s a shout behind him, some kind of battle cry, and then he finds himself on the floor, buried under a pile of Donghae. The game controller digs into his hip, and Donghae is just about crushing his legs and laughing much too loudly right by his ear, and that thought strikes Hyukjae again. And he can’t get rid of it, for the rest of the day.
It strikes him one night as he’s supposed to be sleeping, that he doesn’t actually know how Donghae feels. It’s not like either of them have ever said or done anything. They’ve never been more than friends, and before the whole thought, strangely whole and so convincingly true, had popped into Hyukjae’s head for the first time, he’d never really considered more, either. Not that he’d realised, anyway.
He really doesn’t know how Donghae would think, or feel, about this though. And that thought should probably disturb Hyukjae more, and maybe it does, a little, maybe that’s why he can’t sleep, but it doesn’t bother him too much. Not really. He wonders if perhaps he’s taking far too casual an approach to this whole thing, but then he remembers that it’s about Donghae, Donghae who isn’t new to him, Donghae who he’s been friends with for years. Donghae, and everything is just easy and natural and normal and comfortable around him, so Hyukjae figures, logically, why should this be any different?
Hyukjae doesn’t think about it before he does it. Really. But no one’s around and the idea just pops into his head (as they tend to do lately) so he doesn’t even consider it, not for a second, before he kisses Donghae.
Donghae seems surprised, and Hyukjae can feel a shoulder tense beneath the palm of his hand, but he doesn’t stop. He guesses this might be his way of telling Donghae, since saying it out loud seems kind of stupid to him. And maybe just a little bit scary, for all his feigned casual-attitude towards the whole thing.
It’s clear he’s caught his friend by surprise, and after only a moment Hyukjae feels a hand on his shoulder push them apart. Donghae’s eyes are wide as they search Hyukjae’s face, and once again Hyukjae finds that thought floating to the top of his head, insistent and thicker than ever.
Hyukjae bites back the thought, pushes it away from his throat, and Donghae doesn’t say a word.
Later, a hot bowl in one hand and a mouthful of noodles, Hyukjae contemplates that perhaps it hadn’t been the right thing to do. It seems almost obvious enough that Donghae does not have a similar thought popping in his mind at random intervals, like Hyukjae. But, he concludes, slurping loudly at his noodles, it’s difficult to be too worried about it, when nothing seems to have changed. Donghae still laughs with him, still jokes and plays with him, still bugs him and seeks attention from him, still hugs him for no reason and smiles at him when he’s tired.
So, maybe Hyukjae’s a little sad, that Donghae didn’t kiss him back, but it’s hard to be too sad, when everything else is still the same.
He kind of stops thinking about it, and almost manages to ignore that thought whenever it appears in his mind out of nowhere, and he thinks he’s done pretty well, too. Until he’s woken up one night by cold feet against his legs and a familiar voice, too loud even when in a whisper, close to his ear.
“Hyukjae, I think I saw a ghost.”
And it’s stupid, Hyukjae knows Donghae didn’t see a ghost, not a real one, and maybe even Donghae knows he didn’t see a ghost. But, he asks Hyukjae, in a warm rush of breath against the side of his face, to stay with him, and there’s that thought again, fully formed and perfectly true, glaringly obvious at the front of his mind.
“You’re an idiot, you didn’t see a ghost,” he admonishes Donghae in a sleepy grumble. But he doesn’t push him away, and instead just tugs the blanket over them both, even though Hyukjae knows come morning Donghae will have stolen the entire thing, and managed to leave Hyukjae with none.
Dance practice, and Hyukjae and Donghae are the only two left dancing. They have a small routine of their own to practice until perfect, after all. Hyukjae hasn’t had the thought for days. Not until Donghae shuffles over to him and drops his head onto Hyukjae’s shoulder. The thought tends to do that though, appear along with Donghae.
“I think I’m gonna die,” he whines tiredly.
“Drama queen,” Hyukjae accuses, though he winds an arm around Donghae’s waist, feels just as worn out as his friend.
Donghae looks up at him, slowly, as if it’s an effort even just to raise his head. “Do you really think so?”
Not sure why, but Hyukjae thinks, is almost certain, there is more behind those words than their first meaning. But his answer is casual and without fault, as he shrugs and looks back at Donghae. “A little, sometimes.”
Donghae seems to consider the words; thinks over them far more seriously than he really should be, before he lowers his head to Hyukjae’s shoulder again, arms finding their way around his waist. “Hm,” he sounds thoughtfully.
And its then that Hyukjae finds himself thinking, that whatever he thought was missing, hiding behind the illusion of casual words, are actually the things that Donghae - that neither of them, really - don’t say. The words between the words. And it doesn’t matter, what he thinks, or what he might say, or even if he kisses Donghae, in the end it doesn’t matter, because it all amounts to the same thing. And maybe Donghae understands.
He hopes Donghae understands, because Hyukjae doesn’t, not really.
And on second thought, maybe all those things are just stupid, pointless thoughts because he’s tired, and in love with the guy leaning against him. Hyukjae’s not sure either way. And he’s not sure it matters too much, really.
“Maybe,” Donghae adds a few moments later, quietly. It sounds like there are a hundred maybes hidden inside the one word.
Nothing is different, nothing has changed, as they stand in the dance room together, nothing is different then as it was years ago. They’re still friends. They still joke, and laugh, and tease, and play, and practice. Nothing at all is different.
And maybe that’s just the way things are supposed to be between them. Whether Hyukjae has the thought or not.
- end -