Words get caught somewhere in Hyuntae’s throat, lodged a little painfully, stuck. Talking about the scar on his hand is harder than one would think it is, but he finds himself wanting to tell him. Wanting to tell him what he traces, why that puckered skin mars the smoothness of his palm, why he has to feel it pressed against him when Hyuntae holds his hand like he did. He just… can’t right now. He can’t force the words out past his lips, can’t get his tongue to cooperate with him. It’s a strange sort of silence that follows, and he shifts his hand, curls his fingers over his palm, over Baby’s fingers. It feels good — feels right. Hyuntae bows his head as he angles his body towards him, dark hair falling into his face. He’s hiding, just a little bit, and he knows it, too.
There is something inherently intimate about sharing his name with somebody. Not the name he usually goes by, but his real name, the one that his mother gave him when he was born. He doesn’t keep it hidden, often using it as his social media handles, but no one really calls him it besides Minkyu. He decides in that moment that he wants it to be Baby, too. He wants him to have that piece, however small it might seem to him. “Hyuntae.” He breathes it, canting his head to the side slightly so that his hair falls into his eyes now. He blinks, parting his lips, and he just looks at him for a moment or two before he clarifies. “Call me Hyuntae. Please.”
It’s then that their little bubble is expanded. Minkyu doesn’t puncture it so much as he enters it, and Hyuntae feels his presence wash over him like a warm wave. It makes his heart skip a beat when he looks up at him, sees the freckles dotting his cheeks, splayed over smooth skin like stars. Like the glitter on Baby’s cheeks. He does not pull his hand away, does not move — suddenly and all at once, there is no shame and no embarrassment left to be had. He wants Minkyu to see it, and maybe, just maybe he wants Minkyu to see his feelings, too. His confusing, ridiculous feelings that are not letting him rest, not letting him do anything because all he wants is to gather the both of them into his arms and hold them until they fall asleep. Until he falls asleep.
“Is it early, or is it late?” Hyuntae speaks in a teasing sort of voice, accent thicker as it wraps around his words. Speaking to Baby in their native tongue and the alcohol have made it the way that it is, and he doesn’t seem to notice as he switches between the languages. “I’ve been drinking. Baby hasn’t had any for a while.” He makes sure to not throw him under the bus, but rather to protect him in a small, soft sort of way. Dark amber eyes peer up at him, and there’s a slight curve to his lips that gives him away more than anything else ever could. With his free hand, he closes the book and sets it down beside him. “Join us?”
Hyuntae registers the worry in his voice, but he hopes that his offer is taken for what it’s meant to be: acceptance, comfort, the knowledge that they are all here together, and the energy in the air feels so damn good he could cry. Reaching a hand out, he tugs at the front of Minkyu’s sweatshirt, bringing him a little bit closer. A thought is spared for Baby, for what he might think, but he wraps his fingers around his hand and gives it a light squeeze. It’s nice to know that he’s there, to know that there’s something in him that makes him not want to go away. Maybe he’s just drunk, being forward like this. Being brave like this.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 babylon wondering if he’s asked something that maybe he shouldn’t have , if he should have kept the question wrapped around his tongue and imprisoned behind his lips . tattooed fingers continue to trace the scar , a fleck or two of glitter coming off of his fingertips and onto hyuntae’s palm , before he settles , holds his hand and lets his own hand be held . briefly , he wishes he had his barrettes on him , so he could clip them into hyuntae’s hair to keep the dark strands from hiding pretty features . the words that finally spill into the air , soft and not what baby was expecting , but still welcome all the same , make his heart flutter and the corners of red - stained lips tilt up in a smile . ❝ hyuntae , ❞ he breathes , like something precious is has just been gifted to him , ❝ pretty . ❞
minkyu’s presence at his side is familiar , something akin to home , and it’s oh , so welcome . there is an uncertainty that lingers in his ribcage , though , something that has his fingers twitching under henry’s , almost daring to pull away if only because he feels like he should , as his other hand comes up to grasp at one of kyu’s . he seeks out a point of contact , any point of contact , from his lover , because he’s been lacking as such since he’d detangled himself from his limbs in the dark of the too - early morning and took to his own unhealthy ways of swallowing down cherry - flavoured liquor instead . tattooed fingers fumble with kyu’s own shorter ones , almost daring to tug him closer , some sort of silent plea to hold and be held even more so than he already is .
❝ ah , but i started it , the drinking , ❞ he’s quick to clarify , ensuring that kyu knows that it was his fault , the drunkness that lingers in them , and not hyuntae’s . ❝ he found me , ‘m was already drunk when he did . it’s my fault . ❞ though he doesn’t feel drunk anymore , he thinks , not really , not in the usual sense . already pouty lips press into something even more so as glitter - framed lashes flutter , all but batting prettily up at minkyu in a way that borders some type of bratty innocence , something that says please , don’t be mad . i might burst into tears if you’re mad at me , at us .
the slight squeeze to his hand is comforting , reassuring in a way that lets him know that maybe , maybe , there’s no need for the vague remnants of uncertainty that linger in him . something that lets him know that this — them and whatever is between them , the connection , the chemistry — isn’t being imagined , that maybe it’s not a figment created by the alcohol in their bloodstreams or the shared sunrise in the sky ; that it’s just them , that maybe it’s not going anywhere .
fingers clutch at a fistful of his own sweatshirt that hangs from kyu’s frame , something in him begging to be closer to his lover . ❝ i’m sorry i wasn’t there when you woke up , ❞ words are whispered , just barely audible over the rise and fall of the glassy , crystalline waves kissing the shore and pulling away again . ❝ meant to be . ❞ a pause , a silence spills over him . ❝ please , join us , ❞ he breathes after a moment , words coated in a cherry - sweet desperation . ( @miinkyuu )
he’s being reached for, grasped, drawn in by the slightly too-big clothing he’s donned against the early morning chill. baby takes his hand and hyuntae tugs his hem and it’s only natural that he should acquiesce to their shared wordless request. he sinks down to his knees in between them, the sand pillowing around him and making room. it’s his space now, as much as theirs. in all his wicked, selfish dreams, never once did minkyu allow himself to entertain the possibility that it could translate into a reality, where he could exist around both his baby and his hyuntae with neither pushing nor pulling more than the other. to be here among them feels like a shimmering mirage, something that will shatter completely if he looks at it for too long; he’s scared to look.
but look he does. any inkling to continue his scolding evaporates at the combined efforts of hyuntae’s playfulness and baby’s pout. “it’s early,” kyu dares to use his voice, “too early for drinking.” he’s not mad though and he makes that abundantly clear in the affection springing to his fingertips. leaning forward, he ghosts a touch to the smooth skin of baby’s cheek, caressing down to his jawline and following it to his chin. already near, he repeats the gesture upon hyuntae’s face, dancing a feathered touch to his features before sinking back onto his haunches to flutter a gaze between them both. “what am i meant to do with you two?” he laments on a sigh. (he hopes the fact that he’s thrilled by the two of them being a two doesn’t overshadow his attempted authority).
to baby, he lets his hand fall to a thigh, giving a quick squeeze of understanding. “you’re forgiven,” he allows, “but only because you’ve not wandered off alone. i’m --” his voice catches, weakens, hammering heart dancing into a dangerous hopeful territory from which he isn’t sure he’ll be able to pull away. “i’m grateful that you’ve found each other.” he flutters his stare downwards, to wind-lined sands, then over to hyuntae directly. “thank you for not letting him be alone.” he recognizes a shared concern there; it wasn’t for minkyu’s benefit that henry’s cared for babylon in such a state. maybe that’s a part of it but there’s an individual care there too. that isn’t something for which kyu has to thank him but he’s grateful for it nonetheless.
he wants to pick that apart, to explore the depths of the feelings that babylon and henry have cultivated for one another to the point of hand-holding. he wants to ask them when and how but the bottle of mostly-gone alcohol keeps the questions from spilling out of his lips. it’s far more important to have those kinds of conversations without any influences, of sound mind and sound body. oh, but he aches to feed his curiosity and the insistent whims of his imagination. he longs to daydream: about baby, about hyuntae, about their possibilities. possibilities he hadn’t even thought himself allowed.
“join me instead,” he urges as he reaches for their enjoined hands. both his small ones come to cover the intertwined digits, pleading with his touch. he may not have experienced much of babylon’s drinking habits but he knows of hyuntae’s. he’s a lightweight that contradicts with his stature, which dwarfs both himself and baby even sitting as they are now. hyuntae has cared for a drunken baby but, now, minkyu wants to care for them both. “come to bed with me?” here, there’s very little he can do for them -- at the villa, there are layers in which to wrap them both, water glasses to fetch to fight off mid-day hangovers and a bed upon which to lay, to rest. they may not sleep but their eyes can close, at least. kyu feels far more awake than both hyuntae and baby look and that’s enough to draw him out of the fantasy of laying in between them both on the beach. “please?” ( @hyuntce )
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