| 17 (1/2)

. . seventeen . .  Hyukjae wakes up to a warm yet unfamiliar feeling all around him.

The sun shines straight to his face, forcing him to close his eyes for a moment. But before he opens his eyes again, it takes a minute for him to figure out where he’s spent the night. A yawn tries to escape his mouth, but right before letting it go, he snaps his mouth shut. The warmth – it isn’t because of the probably most comfortable blanket he’s ever slept with, but something else.

Slowly, he lets his eyes open, but the sun makes him squint. He lowers his eyes, trying not to move otherwise, as he follows the white blanket downwards. But he doesn’t see anything else but it. The feeling, the unfamiliar yet rather safe and comforting sensation, comes from under it. And as he starts to become more aware of his surroundings, what every sensation truly means, he notes the hot breaths against his neck, and silky hair tickling his nape. His head goes blank, as he peeks under the blanket, cautious, and it finally hits him that he didn’t go to sleep alone.

Hyukjae stares at the arm circled over his middle, and lets the blanket fall over it again. Unsure, he turns his head backwards, noting the dark tousle of hair behind him, soon followed with an overall realization what must have been going on for a while. His legs are rather numb, as one that doesn’t belong to him is sprawled over them. A very distinct scent, quite a manly one, reaches his nose and although it’s almost too warm around him, cold shivers run along his arms.

And the slow, sleepy wiring inside his head connects the dots. Donghae’s been spooning him god knows for how long, and it’s…

Oh god I’m enjoying this.

It’s impossible for him to close his eyes again although he desperately wants to. Knowing how good it feels makes his head spin faster. It has been a while since he’s slept with someone like that. It bothers him a little, not the fact itself, but the matter how it makes him feel inside. It confuses him to no end, and Donghae’s confession yesterday complicates it. Hyukjae still isn’t sure what he thinks about it. It doesn’t anger him, and actually he doesn’t find it wrong in any way. He’s never had anything against the people who happened to like the same gender. It’s no problem to him if Donghae’s gay, or whatever the other calls himself.

But it does, in a way, force Hyukjae to think about himself. In high school, before their quiet fallout, Donghae was his favorite person. He’s never questioned it. Donghae was his best friend, after all. But now that Donghae’s told him that he’s—well, used to be—in love with him, he wonders. For starters, does the man still feel the same? He certainly doubts it, but a part of Donghae’s behavior in the last week opposes it. If they drifted apart because of Donghae’s feelings, why is he still so withdrawn? Is it still the same, on purpose, because Donghae’s afraid of how he would act if he knew? And now that he knows, is Donghae afraid he would chase him away?

Hyukjae grimaces, the swirl of thoughts inside his head making him feel insane. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s not even all there is to it. And besides the remaining confusion, he has no idea how he feels.

And for some questionable reason, Hyukjae turns around, careful not to wake up the other quite yet. But as his face is suddenly just an inch apart from Donghae’s still asleep one, his breath hitches and his stomach turns around.

The younger man looks very different while asleep. He’s peaceful, still holding on to Hyukjae’s waist as his soft snuffles fill Hyukjae’s ears. Observing Donghae’s face, his heartbeat goes up to his ears. He tries to find something he might dislike, but there’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing about Donghae is repulsive to him. Hyukjae thinks and thinks, but even some of those women he’s slept with doesn’t really compare to Donghae’s looks. Why is it so damn easy to look at him?

He’s never really stopped to consider about it before, but now that he’s so close to another man, it doesn’t feel much different than with a woman. He might even enjoy the masculinity. He prefers Donghae’s scent over any of the flowery and candy like perfumes lots of the women he’s been with seemed to enjoy using.

It’s not easy to admit that it’s true. That he doesn’t want to get away from this; he doesn’t have the urge to jump off from the bed in disgust. He’s never been the judgy type, but this realization that he actually finds nothing in himself that dislikes being so close to Donghae baffles him.

When he keeps looking at the brunet, he can’t stop beating his brains out. Could it be possible for him to fall in love with a man? And when there’s no instant caveat coming from anywhere, not even a distant whisper, he takes a deep inhale and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his mind to calm his nerves.

It takes him another minute to think straight again.

God damn it, am I even straight?

Cursing under his breath, he finally takes note over the matter that his daughter is nowhere to be seen. But then he hears some noises coming from downstairs, and he realizes that she’s probably with Donghae’s mother, and Hyukjae lets out a short breath in relief. He doesn’t have the capacity to worry over so many things at the same time. In the end, he’s staring Donghae again. And he finds himself curious how Donghae will react when he finds himself in the current position with Hyukjae. The older bites down on his lips, but the name slips off his mouth.

“Donghae.”

The soft call doesn’t immediately boggle the younger up. At first, he just crunches his nose at the sound. But after a minute of waiting, still no sign of him waking up, Hyukjae lifts his hand to poke Donghae’s chest.

“Hey,” he tries again, “Donghae, come on.” Hyukjae forgets his hand to rest against the other’s chest, as Donghae finally opens his eyes.

At first, Donghae can’t orient to anything. But slowly, the face in front of his own starts to make sense, and his eyes widen in shock. Hyukjae’s palm tingles against his chest. He soon comes to find that he’s clinging to the other himself.

“Hyuk—fuck, I’m sorry,” Donghae swallows, “I didn’t—“

Hyukjae notices the mix of terrified and embarrassed expression, and he clasps his fingers around the younger’s shirt he’s been touching.

“Stop,” Hyukjae hisses, but his voice is not angry. Rather, he snorts. The terrified look on Donghae’s face calms down a notch.

“I’m just glad I didn’t wake up to a morning wood against my ass,” he continues, smirking smugly at the other.

“Not helping!” Donghae shuts his eyes as his face rushes red from embarrasment, but for some reason, he doesn’t realize he’s still holding onto Hyukjae with his hand.

Hyukjae snickers, trying to hold his laugh. Eventually Donghae dares to look at him again, biting his lips. Now, he seems hesitant, and a little fearful.

“You’re… You’re not mad?”

Hyukjae frowns. “About?”

“Yesterday… When I...”

“No.”

Donghae looks confused.

“W-why?”

“Should I be?”

“N-no,” Donghae stammers, “I mean, I don’t know. I was just afraid you might… That I might...”

“Disgust me?” Hyukjae stares back to him. “You don’t. There’s nothing about you that I find disgusting, Donghae.” And there’s a silence, and Donghae keeps looking at him, confused and timid, and as if he isn’t quite sure if he should trust what Hyukjae says, even if the words were so surprisingly soft.

And Hyukjae knows he should look away, but he can’t. The eye contact holds, until a squeal suddenly fills the room and an energetic bundle crawls up behind Donghae, breaking the gaze and Hyukjae’s thoughts that might have gone to ponder the reason what the younger really saw in him and why he feels curious about how Donghae’s lips might feel against his own.

People come and go around the station, talking, asking questions from the info desk, a man waits for the coffee machine to pour him a cup of bitter coffee, a mother tries to calm down a crying baby and an old man, probably homeless, dozes off on his seat across the room.

Hyukjae’s leg trembles against the floor as he eyes the clock, then a plastic plant beside the woman at the info desk and then the floor again. Donghae sits beside him on the bench, the four year old seated between them. He doesn’t know what to think, he doesn’t want to think, but everything is stuck inside his head. Why is it so hard to calm down? He’s done nothing wrong, he’s only there to give the police a statement about the incident with Jiah, but he can’t calm down the tornado inside him.

“Hyukjae,” Donghae suddenly mutters, “Stop tapping the floor.”

“Sorry,” he gives the younger a grimace, as he follows a police officer passing by with his nervous stare. “Not a lot of good memories from here.”

Donghae purses his lips. “It’s just a formality, don’t stress it. Just tell them what happened.”

Hyukjae slides his fingers through his ash brown hair, sighing.

“I know, I know,” he exhales. He takes a swift look at his daughter, but Jaemin doesn’t seem disturbed about anything. She’s still occupied with the picture book Donghae’s mother had given her. She doesn’t worry, she’s just encrossed in her own simple world, and Hyukjae envies it.

It’s nearing one in the afternoon, and they’ve been waiting for almost half an hour already. And after waking up from next to Donghae about three hours earlier, not much has happened. They didn’t really get a chance to talk more after Jaemin crashed their moment. He’s not even sure if they’re still fine with each other after the confession, although Donghae hasn’t given a good reason to think otherwise, even if he’s been a little sheepish around Hyukjae till now. When they’d gone to eat breakfast, Donghae had reminded him about the fact that he needed to talk with the police again. And since then, he hasn’t been really capable of thinking of anything else.

But as the endless waiting is starting to get to his nerves, bad time, he just wants something to turn his attention to, and the first subject he can think of is the damned confession. But he couldn’t just ask Donghae if he’s still in love with him, could he?

“Donghae?” he finds himself calling the other.

Donghae turns to give him a look, and Hyukjae bites his tongue. The brunet’s dressed like any other day, tight blue jeans and a dark collared shirt, with a black trench coat on his lap. His hair is falling freely over his forehead.

“Hmm?”

“Are we...” Hyukjae mutters, “Are we good?”

“What do you mean?” Donghae replies, lowering his gaze to the girl, to distract himself.

“I mean...” Hyukjae stops for a moment as an officer passes them, “After everything? Are we cool? There’s no bad vibes between us?”

Donghae rises his gaze back to the older, and they stare each other for a while.

“I guess it’s up to you?” Donghae mutters, looking away again.

“Up to me? I have no beef with you,” he grunts, “But do you?” He quirks his eyebrow, as if waiting for a hint about Donghae’s feelings. But he doesn’t give him a clue.

“I’m fine,” Donghae says nonchalantly, and Hyukjae doesn’t get a chance to ask for more, when one of the police officers that took Jiah away suddenly calls his name.

They’ve been over the story twice. The officer has asked him almost everything about their current situation, and Hyukjae feels exhausted by all of it. He just wants to get away from there already. Yet the officer keeps thinking something, palming his jaw.

“I think we’re about done here,” he finally says, and Hyukjae sighs in relief, but the officer, whose name tag reads Kim, continues, “There’s just that whether you want to file a criminal report. This goes somewhere under petty assault.”

His head goes blank. At first, it seemed the obvious thing to do. But if he files the report, would Jiah take vengeance on it? Would it she come back later, and do something even worse in her fury?

“What’s she going to get?” he stammers, staring at the officer.

“Probation, community service… Depends on the judge. Although she managed to harm you physically, the injuries were rather minor. But you also told about her leaving the child alone behind your door, which would be seen as child neglect.”

He has to think about the girl, but he doesn’t know what’s the wisest thing to do. He would really appreciate Donghae’s say on this, but he stayed back at the lobby with the girl. But what would Donghae do?

“Uh… I guess I file the report,” he finally says, although he’s still unsure. The officer nods, typing something on his computer.

The officer clears his throat. “If this happens again, you should probably file the restraining order.”

Hyukjae doesn’t answer.

“And...” the officer suddenly continues, and Hyukjae straightens on his chair. “A social worker will probably pay you a visit sometime, due to the circumstances.”