#hyukleo

[ahyukaday]

170228 (c) 클로버 CLOVER

[vixxheadcanons]

Based on this tweet

Leo is aware of how he has difficulty of showing affection. It worries him at times, especially when Hyuk, the one who announces all the love he has for the older man to the world, becomes sort of cold to him. He knows he could do better as a boyfriend, but Leo’s shy nature limits him from going to extreme lengths for Hyuk. The issue bothers him enough to attempt to explain to his best friend N how dire the situation is. He expects N to laugh about the silly problem, but Leo gets a reasssuring pat on the shoulder instead. “Hyuk is very aware of how you’re not the kind of person to use a lot of words to express yourself. There are other ways to show him how much you care, you know.” N winks before going off to check on the other members, leaving Leo to think about his next move carefully. After a long night of thinking, Leo pulls Hyuk over to the living room, sitting him down on the couch. “Hm? What’s wrong Leo?” Hyuk gasps as the older man kisses him gently. Leo’s lips move from Hyuk’s forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, and finally to his neck as he whispers “I love you” repeatedly to Hyuk. The younger man blushes as he feels the confessions burn into his skin, clinging onto the collar of Leo’s shirt until the older man pulls away. “You’re too much.” Hyuk covers his face as Leo chuckles, making himself comfortable next to his younger boyfriend on the couch.

[kuugatsus]

for something to happen; leo/hyuk, drabble

a/n: i wish i could tell you what exactly this is but idk either all i do is that i was inspired by kotonoha no niwa.

They’re waiting for something to happen.

They sit on a bench, each on the other side. The place is covered with trees; there is green light only. It smells like it rained. There are trains passing by, and cars, muted from the leaves.

They sit there, two hours, three hours, until the green light turns orange and one leaves. And then, when the orange light disappears, the other leaves. It’s always like that. They never arranged that, yet it’s always like that. And to be honest, they never want it to change.

  He doesn’t know if he should just say something to the other. He steals a glance to him, with a sharp jawline and a sharper look, directed at something he can’t see. The green light suits him. He wonders if the other is a model.

Then he turns his gaze to the sight again. For the first time, he thinks that what he’s doing here is stupid, at the very back of his head. But all he can do is to wait.

  He hears the other talk, for the first time since three months.

“Not really.” He has a voice smothered in puberty, still deep though. There is a pause. “Hyung, I understand. But-“ a pause again. “No, hyung. Why shall I practice for something that is not decided yet? That’s idiotic.” The other sounds calm but the words sound angry. “What if not?” A pause again. He decides to steal a glance again, and this time, the other looks at him too. His eyes are young, and hard. They don’t soften. He assumes that it’s because of the conversation on the phone, but before he can actually confirm this, the younger’s eyes turn to a point far away again.

“I’m going to wait. Maybe study in a university. And then try again.” He lets out a laugh. “They accepted you. So they’re going to accept me, too.” He ends the call and looks at the other again.

His eyes seem to ask They’re going to, aren’t they?

  He waits for two things: for his injury to heal, and to be good enough to play football again. And he waits for the other boy, to get accepted. Although he would never say that out loud. (For now)

It’s been five months since someone cheered loudly Jung Taekwoon! Jung Taekwoon! on a match. It’s been five months since he sits here idly, instead of watching the others on their training. Because watching them reminds him of moments wasted away with injuries.

The non-existing memories of him playing hurt the most.

  The leaves become yellow, slowly, and the days get colder. And one day, the other’s gone. Taekwoon misses him because silence with him is different than the silence without him. The silence without the other is more suffocating and too much packed with his own memories. His own pain. He hears a faint Jung Taekwoon outside.

Life decides to tell him that he’s being pathetic when the other boy arrives, panting. He sits down, looks at the other (the silence changed, no, actually the silence vanished and got replaced by the pantings) and asks him a question, quietly.

“Do you know that feeling,” he says, “when you work very hard for something, but then something, just a small thing, ruins it all?”

Taekwoon remembers. It was a horrible foul. He hears the referee’s whistle loudly, but doesn’t see how the other gets the red card. He only hears because the world’s too bright for his eyes to open. The pain’s strong, and big, and everything he thinks and feels in that moment. He feels something cold a little while later, hands that put him on a stretcher, how the grass crunches with each step, the wind that blows against his ears.

He remembers, in a white room, with blends protecting from the sunlight, when the doctor tells him to make a pause, and how heavy those words are in the silence. How much heavier his nod is.

“Yes,” he replies and his voice carries those memories. “Yes. I do.”

The other nods. “What did you do against it?”

“Come here.”

A pause.

“We’re both waiting, aren’t we?”

“…Yeah.”

Taekwoon put his hands on the bench. Using his arms, he slided closer, and closer to the other. Which is weird because Taekwoon’s the last person who would initiate social contact. But the kid, the kid’s different. And the kid’s sliding, as well.

For the first time, they sit in the middle of the bench, eyes locked into each other.

“I’m Sanghyuk,” the younger breathes.

“Taekwoon,” he replies just as silent.

  They’re waiting for something to happen. But maybe, it already happened.