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They all knew how it was. Anything Kyunghoon got and didn’t want, Heechul would have it. It started with a small backpack for his birthday from one of the hyungs. Heechul remembered the uproar it provoked when he strode past them towards his stylist, the offending object hanging from one shoulder. Everyone teased him as if the gift had been carefully chosen by them, until Kyunghoon’s make up could no longer conceal his reddening face.
He hadn’t said it was a gift, the fucker, but Heechul had still accepted the slap on his shoulder and his silent request to be a wall between his attackers and him. It died down in a heartbeat, but the knowledge was constantly used against him—them, actually, since Kyunghoon and Heechul would often be pronounced in the same breath.
When they all learnt that the gifts he never gave away were those flashy socks of his—he liked them too much, and Heechul did not—that was all he got, every time. If one of the hyungs felt like giving him something different, the will I see Heechul using this? made him laugh, red ears and deep dimples.
So, it surprised him, really, to see a pair of mosaic print pants in a gift bag, ribbon and all, in June. No birthdays, no celebrations, only his nonchalant gesture of “there you go” in the waiting room after giving it to him, and a conversation about a whole different topic. Good quality, very comfy and stretchy, ideal for sleeping or laying around. To him, perfect. Min Kyunghoon surely thought otherwise.
*
“The pants from last time are my favorites; can you ask where they got it?” he mumbled one day. Precautions were necessary.
Under the artificial light, Kyunghoon patted his forehead with his handkerchief, pursing his lips as he finished. “Huh?”
A short break was needed to clean the mess their last game had made. They could hear Hodong delivering compliments and suggestions from their seats.
“I want to get another pair. Maybe two more,” Heechul explained in secrecy. Honestly, he was afraid of ruining them with how much he was wearing them.
The production director’s instructions for the next segment interrupted whatever reply Kyunghoon would offer, and later, when they found each other alone again, they both would forget about the pants in favor of more important things like how was hiking last week and are you doing something later on.
The next week Heechul got the pants, same color than before, and small talk unrelated to them. The guilt was momentary, they were good pants after all.
*
Over the next few months, it never occurred to him that asking who he got it from would be important until the second beanie. Talking was not Kyunghoon’s forte, nor were subtleties. He couldn’t keep him alone for too long on set, no matter how big he opened his eyes, trying to get his message across.
He would have texted if he didn’t know him and his tendency to avoid replying.
Next was hair products. He didn’t think too much of it, Kyunghoon had strong, thick hair that should have some maintenance done every once in a while, even if it was healthier than his. Heechul made him split the bottles between them with a menacing look.
The black blanket was alright, too, he imagined Kyunghoon was a pastel color kind of guy. But he completely lost it at the sight of a hairpin so pretty it had to be a joke.
“Really?” He must have looked and sounded as done as he felt, the instant pout appearing on Kyunghoon’s features as soon as the word left his mouth.
It didn’t matter if Soogeun was pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping, he could not believe Kyunghoon wasn’t at least wondering what was going on.
“You don’t like it?”
Heechul walked towards the loveseat, seeking some privacy, Kyunghoon in tow. He sank on it, pursed his lips. “What do you mean? Don’t you know?”
With a knowing look – Was it his idea? – Soogeun got out of the waiting room, muttering a “gentlemen” that echoed slightly louder than the AC.
In the room now empty and with Kyunghoon sat beside him, his head found its way to the younger’s shoulder. He was rather bony, and the angle was awkward, yet he let out a sigh, thinking of the long day ahead. He sighed again, too, for the naiveness he was being witness of.
“Those are gifts… for me.” Heechul tried to convey a patient tone rather than patronizing one.
A beat. A hand slithered between them, trembling and unsure. Like a knee-jerk reaction, his fingers made room for Kyunghoon's as soon as the motion registered on his mind. “Of course,” he breathed; he did sound patronizing. “I bought them… for you.”
He was baffled.
Yelling in frustration, without dropping his hand, Heechul sat up straight and turned to see him. “What! You can’t bring me gifts without saying anything! I even asked for more pants, are you serious?”
Kyunghoon dared to laugh. “Now you’re mad at me?” got mixed between Heechul’s “I sounded like a jerk, asking you for more, and you didn’t even complain. What’s wrong with you?” His sentences got longer and whiny. His open hand connecting with Kyunghoon’s thigh, and his giggles joined the chorus of complaints.
“I thought the hyungs gave them to you. I was sure they were laughing at us!”
“Hyung, I’m sorry!” Kyunghoon said between hearty laughs without looking sorry at all.
After the yelling was replaced with huffs of air and warm fondness, he asked “What were those for, anyway?” Heechul tugged on his hand, pressing their fingers together.
When they were this close and this quiet, the murmurs of the wind and the crew carved a moment for them no one else could get into. Heechul ran a thumb across Kyunghoon’s knuckles, the notion so familiar it had long lost its ability of making him shy. Heechul was disappointed.
“I thought you would like them,” he almost whispered, a mischievous gleam on his eyes ruining his innocent facade. “Was I wrong?”
The smile tugging at Heechul’s lips was too strong for him to pretend he wasn’t elated. Slowly, he brought the hand he was still holding between two of his own and left a small kiss on the knuckle of his index finger, long enough to make Kyunghoon blush. He was satisfied at last. “Thank you.”
“Aah, it’s alright.” Avoiding his gaze couldn’t hide the red on his cheeks.