30. Decisions

THIRTY

Miyong thinksabout it in the days that follow.

Of course he's warmed by making more friends, but the other things Meyemi-sunbaenim had said stick in his mind like a small burr. He thinks about it in practice, where he's distracted enough for Charis to gently call him out and for Joonie-hyung to notice.

Joon looks at him with a questioning expression, but Miyong only shakes his head lightly and gives a sheepish smile.

He'll talk about it with Joonie-hyung. He never means to keep anything from him. Just… not yet. It's something he's still trying to understand himself.

He films his portion of the vlog while Soohyun is in the shower, glancing furtively toward the door to make sure the water is running. It's kind of funny; he isn't sure why he does it. After all, it's not like he's actually doing something wrong. Still, he bites his lip as he swivels the screen around so he can see himself. He flops himself over onto his stomach over the bed, arms outstretched so he can get a good view of his face.

He fluffs his bangs a little, piecing through them with his fingers until they hang over his eyes just right, then he tests out a smile to the camera that creases his eyes and makes his whole face look delicate, young, and happy.

He turns on the record button.

"Hi there," he says in an ordinary voice. He doesn't sound as hyped up as he does sometimes, more sedate and a little tired. "I know it's been a while, huh?"

He holds up his phone and gives it a little jiggle.

"Sorry I haven't been on FanApp as much lately, but we've been doing lots and lots of prep here at Gleam so we can give you a really good show."

He sits up and gets up from the bed, walking around a little and slowly panning the camera around the room. He'd made sure there wasn't anything weird that they wouldn't want their fans to see before doing it. The room looks neat and lived in, maybe just a little messy. Miyong's jacket is slung over a chair, and there are a few things spilling out of Soohyun's duffel on the ground.

Miyong turns the camera back on himself.

"I've been thinking a lot, lately, about the kind of idol I want to be. Do you ever do that? Just think a lot to yourself when you're alone? It can be a little sad, but it's kind of nice, too, right?"

He flops back onto the bed and props his neat, small chin up on a hand.

"I've been thinking that I want to do even better. It's not that I don't already try my hardest, but…" He grabs a pillow from the bed and squeezes it in his hands, and when he looks back into the camera, his eyes are very earnest. "I want to keep showing you new and better sides of myself. Just you wait and see, I'm going to surprise you with something really cool."

The declaration hangs in the air. In the bathroom, Miyong thinks he hears Soohyun turn the water off. Well, that means it's time to go.

"Anyway. I gotta go now. It was nice chatting. I hope we can see each other in person again real soon. Love you! Goodnight."

Miyong covers up the camera, and he's just putting it away when Soohyun comes out of the bathroom, still toweling off his hair.

"Vlogging?" Soohyun asks.

"Mmhm. Let me know when you want to record our joint vlog later."

Soohyun nods. "Sure. Hey, where'd you go earlier? You ran off in such a hurry."

"Ah, that…" Miyong plays with the edge of his pajama bottoms, then says resolutely, "I wanted to go talk to Meyemi-sunbaenim earlier, so I went and found their dressing room."

Soohyun is surprised. He hangs up his towel and grabs his grey jacket to ward off the chill in the room. "Oh? I didn't realize you'd gotten so close."

"It's a new thing, sort of."

And maybe this is part of a new Miyong—one who isn't quite so much of a baby, who doesn't let himself be overshadowed by other people because deep down, he doesn't think he can do better. Maybe Meyemi was right; maybe he had gotten too comfortable playing second string. Wasn't it good to work for more? To believe that you could have it?

Maybe… he can become someone who's straightforward with people, the way his hyungs are.

"Oh," Soohyun says. "Well. I'm glad you're making friends. Say hi to them for me."

"Mm. Will do," Miyong says. "Ah. Hey, hyung, there's one more thing…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think the company will let me do extra lessons? I know I already do vocal, but do you think you could ask them to put me in the rap development program?"

"Sure, if that's what you want. I can talk to Chungae-hyung when shooting is over, if you want."

"Mm, no, that's okay," Miyong says, shaking his head slightly. "I can talk to him myself. I just wanted to… run it by you first. See what you think."

That takes Soohyun a little off-guard. He's used to Miyong being kind of shy when it comes to talking to their managers. Usually whatever he wants to say will be run through his hyungs first, and Soohyun has never minded.

But although Miyong is acting so differently, surprising Soohyun at least twice in the space of a single conversation, when he smiles, it's still the same old sweet smile that Soohyun is used to.

Miyong goes to take a shower and then crashes onto the bed with his hair still wet. Soohyun has to nag at him slightly to remind him to dry it before he goes to sleep—Miyong would forget otherwise. Miyong promises to do it in just a minute and grins down at his phone. He has their group chat up and he and Joon are the only ones there talking about something—some kind of squid-shaped squid ink cookies served with preserved egg.

Joon makes a joke that barely even registers as a joke to anyone else but that Miyong finds devastatingly funny. He's bundled up in a big, white hoodie and sweatpants after his shower, and he snickers as he cradles his phone close to him, like a child fascinated by a toy and unwilling to let it out of his sight for an instant. His socked toes squish into the bedspread at regular intervals, and he squeezes a cloud-shaped pillow that he brought with them from home, clutching it tighter unconsciously every time Joon says something that makes him laugh.

It's just as homey and peaceful as it ever is. All of Soohyun's members are getting along. Everyone is safe, and everyone is tucked into their rooms the way they should be.

Soohyun just has the strange and sudden feeling of not knowing much about his members lately. Like everyone is growing around him and about to pass him by or something.

He's supposed to be the oldest. He's supposed to be the one who has it all together, so why does it just sort of feel like he's the only one being left behind?

Eventually, Charis is left alone with Mouse again.

When he's finally well and for a brief moment of time, there's nothing he needs to do and nowhere he needs to be. He feels… surprisingly awkward.

It's a new and sort of galling experience. He's never felt awkward around Mouse before. It's always been easy to joke with Mouse, and he's been sharp or even sarcastic with him when he felt like it.

But now… he feels shy.

The door closes behind them, and Charis is left in this tiny room with the origami garland that Mouse had found for him. It isn't the same as his fairy lights in his room back at home, but it carries a sentimental sweetness that pierces Charis' heart and makes his mouth feel dry and the corners of his eyes feel a bit hot.

He's so nervous.

Mouse apparently picks up on it because he says, "You know… you don't have to be scared, Pocky. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Like, ever." He scratches at the back of his head. "If the times we…" he coughs. Mouse usually has no trouble being salacious or even vulgar, but somehow when it's Pocky facing him with his big, bright eyes and slightly confused face, he just can't say it. "You know," he says, defeated, in a slightly lowered voice. "If those were just one-offs, then that's okay. I just want you to know that I'm not expecting anything from you."

After he says it, he realizes that was quite a speech, and then he feels awkward, and he can feel his cheeks burning hot.

"It's okay," Charis says.

He wants to move closer to Mouse, but that awkwardness has him in its grip, and he feels like he can't. Mouse's flushed face and burning cheeks are fascinating to him, and he wants to touch them. He doesn't think he's ever seen Mouse like this before.

"You're so pretty," Charis says, and it sounds plaintive. "I want to… To…"

It's so awkward that there's no other cure for it but to grab each other and smash their mouths together.

It isn't a pretty kiss. It's equally awkward. Their teeth clack together and their mouths don't fit right until Mouse takes it upon himself to pull back slightly and reposition.

It's so sweet. When Mouse pulls back to fix the kiss, he ends up with an armful of Charis making a soft, unhappy sound and straining closer toward him, wanting. Mouse loves him so much. He feels it explode in his chest. He just wants to eat him up.

"Charis…"

Charis feels out of control. He feels hot in a good way. It's so overwhelming, he feels like he might drown in it. He grabs at the back of Mouse's head, scrunching his hands full of Mouse's silky, slippery hair. He loves Mouse's hair.

They kiss desperately.

It's probably a nasty kiss. It's messy and wild as they lick into each other's mouths. Charis licks Mouse's lips, the corner of his mouth, his teeth. When Mouse plunges his tongue into his mouth, Charis makes a gut-shot sound. He sucks tentatively on it, and it just stokes the fire in Mouse higher.

Mouse is shocked by how turned on he is. He's always found Charis sexy, but Mouse has been with a handful of people. He's pretty experienced. He isn't used to losing his shit. But the way Charis responds to him, clumsy and aggressive and so eager, is really doing it for him. He's learning something new about himself.

He's emboldened by Charis' positive response and drugged by his own lust. Under its influence, he slips his hand up the back of Charis' shirt. The response he gets is so gratifying. Charis honest to god moans, and Mouse drags him closer. As cool and breezily untouchable as Charis looks so much of the time, the skin under Mouse's hand is hot, belying the truth.

Mouse thrusts his tongue deeper into Charis' mouth, dipping him back slightly while Charis' fingers claw into his shoulders for a better grip. Mouse wants to eat him whole. He can feel the hard line of Charis' cock digging into his thigh, incontrovertible proof that Charis wants him, wants him this much, this bad, and it drives Mouse wild.

Charis is so dizzy, his head is spinning. He feels hot all over and very aware that Mouse is touching him, and he wants Mouse to touch him more. He wants to communicate that but can only seem to do it with gasps. He can't stop kissing Mouse for long enough to make it happen in any other way.

"Is this okay?" Mouse asks, and his face is so close to Charis' own. Charis could count every freckle in his eyes that are suddenly so dizzyingly intense.

He nods fervently and gropes for Mouse again, grabbing him around the warm, bare skin of his back and pulling him in closer.

He makes a satisfied sound that can only be called a purr once he manages to pull Mouse on top of him.

They get each other naked again, and Charis doesn't know how to say it, but he tries.

"I want to go all the way with you. I want to do it with you."

The words out of Charis' mouth make Mouse shiver from his head to his toes. He wants to worship at this man's feet.

He doesn't ask if Charis is sure. He just promises, "I'm going to make it so good for you," looking right into Charis' eyes.

"I know you will," Charis says solemnly as he looks back. It's true. He does know.

He lies back on the bed, watching Mouse with interest to see what he'll do next. No one makes him feel as safe as Mouse does.

"Can I touch you here?" Mouse asks, trailing his fingers down past Charis' cock, hanging heavy and full against his concave belly, and tracing lightly against the skin along the curve of his ass.

He doesn't touch Charis' hole but skirts around it, and Charis shivers richly with anticipation.

"You can touch me wherever you want," he says earnestly.

His hair is laid out around him on the pillow, looking like spun glass. They'd managed to dim the lights in the room by tossing a thin shirt over the lampshade. Charis is so pretty it makes Mouse's head spin and his heart ache.

Something occurs to Mouse suddenly. "Unless you want to do it the other way?"

Mouse hasn't bottomed much—Kiki didn't like to top—but he'd be willing to, for Charis.

Charis shakes his head. "Maybe… we can try it that way some other time? I think it's easier if you do it first."

Right, because Charis is a virgin. Because before him, Charis had never?—

Mouse thinks about it, and he can feel his heart speeding up in his chest, thumping almost painfully.

"I promise I'll make it good. Tell me if something hurts," Mouse says again, bending down to kiss Charis' mouth again. It feels like he's indulging himself, sipping sweet nectar from Charis' lips.

The kiss has the added benefit of making Charis relax. He makes that little purring noise again and stretches out his neck languidly. Mouse feels like he's learning things about Charis.

Charis expects that Mouse will get up to go get some lube from somewhere. After all, Charis might not have done this before, but he's a grown man with access to the internet. He knows how these things go. He observes with curious interest that Mouse doesn't do what he expects, though.

Charis isn't alarmed. He really does trust Mouse—implicitly, completely.

Mouse doesn't try to get inside him at first. He just rubs lightly at the tender skin of his hole, letting him get used to the sensation. Charis is pleasantly surprised that it feels good.

It feels even better when Mouse does add lube, the slick, slippery sensation fueling something that feels hot and tangled inside Charis. He finds himself rocking back against Mouse's hand so Mouse's thin, dexterous fingers are almost breaching him but not quite—in fact, he's pretty sure that Mouse is pulling his hand away. The most Charis manages to get is the very tip of Mouse's finger inside him when he jerks his hips very suddenly.

"You're doing that on purpose," he says, narrowing his eyes at Mouse, and Mouse chuckles, sounding very happy.

Their friendly, laughing moment only lasts for a second, though. The atmosphere turns heated again as soon as Mouse rubs a circle around Charis' entrance again. Charis' eyes grow lidded, and his mouth falls open on a light pant.

"More," he mouths to Mouse, and who is Mouse to deny him?

He was just waiting until Pocky wanted it bad enough to ask for it. That's when he knows that Charis is relaxed enough.

Mouse sinks his finger in slowly, pausing as he lets Charis adjust.

Charis is expecting some pain, but it doesn't hurt. It only feels good. He tips his head back and makes a little noise, sighing as Mouse starts to move his hand slowly.

Mouse adds a second finger, and now Charis' eyes get heavy-lidded. His mouth falls open to pant because it feels so good. He gets clingy. Mouse didn't know that Charis was really so clingy.

"Feels good?" he asks, and Charis nods.

It feels really good to have Mouse's chest pressed to his, all of their skin stuck together and their bodies touching in so many places. The muscles cord in Mouse's forearm as he sets a languid, easy rhythm. He finds Charis' sweet spot, and Charis' back arches off the bed. His eyes go wide, and he nearly squeaks.

And Mouse is—he's really nice to Pocky. More than nice. He's doting and sweet in a way he doesn't know how to be with anyone else.

But he's still kind of a little shit at heart.

Once he finds that spot, he exploits it relentlessly, teasing, applying direct pressure, stimulating it until just the very edge of pleasure and pain, making Charis' toes curl. Charis makes a loud sound as his feet start scrabbling restlessly for purchase against the mattress. It's such a strange feeling, aching and deep. The feeling of being out of control intensifies, and he starts to whimper. He's so gone that he doesn't really realize how tightly he's gripping at Mouse.

And Mouse loves to see it. He watches Pocky fall apart underneath him with wonder, working hard to make sure he keeps feeling so good.

Charis swears under his breath, and oh, that's so good, too. He grips Mouse so tightly that his trimmed fingernails are going to leave indents.

"Mouse, I'm going to come. Mouse?—"

"Shh, I've got you. I've got you, baby, it's okay. Just let go. Let it hit you."

It's not like Charis has much of a choice. Mouse keeps nudging his fingers against his prostate, having found a rhythm that works best. Charis is so relaxed now that Mouse's fingers slide easily in and out. The feeling is so strange. Nothing is even touching his cock, but he's pretty sure?—

He shudders as it does hit him. Even untouched, just from his prostate, Charis' face screws up as he tips over into pleasure. He cums, his cock spurting milky white fluid over his belly. It's only when it's over, when he's shuddering and his cock has given everything it has to give, that Mouse stops and slowly slides his fingers out.

Charis grunts at the sudden empty feeling, hooking one long, tired leg around Mouse's lower back.

"Feels too empty," he complains. "Can you put it inside me now?"

Mouse groans and presses his forehead to Charis', and Charis just blinks up at him with those eyes. Mouse has been trying to be good. He'd wanted to make Charis cum first—had been totally ready in case Charis didn't want to keep going after that. He doesn't ever want to pressure him.

But his self-control is hanging by a thread right now, and Charis is determined to snap it with a neat cut. Mouse's own cock is flushed and leaking. He's so hard it hurts.

He stalls by covering Charis' mouth with another deep kiss, plunging his fingers back inside Charis at the same time. Charis is so warm inside, and his dick twitches with wanting to be in him.

Charis pulls away first, cupping either side of Mouse's head to pull him back so he can look at him.

"Come on," he says.

And Mouse really, really isn't made of metal. There's only so much he can do.

"Okay," he says, and he reaches down and positions himself at Charis' entrance.

He's rapt, looking at Charis spread out beneath him. His chest is a milky, luminous white, stained with red like spilled wine. The flush goes all the way up to his cheeks and tints his ears.

He smells so good. The bed smells like the both of them combined. The air in their cold, air conditioned room has turned so hot.

Charis subtly widens his legs, which are tented at the knees. He feels the stretch in his hips. It feels so vulnerable but right now, so right and good.

Come on,he urges Mouse silently inside his head. Come on, do it.

He's lost his nerve for being able to say it out loud. He's already asked as much as he can. The rest is up to Mouse.

He feels a niggling, momentary flight of insecurity and concern—is it that he's not good enough? Is that why? It's not like Charis doesn't know that Mouse has been with other people. He knows about Mouse and Kiki. He's heard rumors about Mouse and Hyori.

And then there's no more room to think because Mouse is pushing inside him. He arches his back and breathes sharply through his nose. Having Mouse's fingers inside him is no match for having Mouse really in him.

He groans out loud. Mouse is so big, and Charis says so.

To which Mouse responds with a shit-eating grin.

"You're horrible," Charis grouses.

"You love me," Mouse breathes by his ear.

He doesn't mean anything by it; he's just teasing. Still, the breath and Mouse's words carry through Charis like the signal of a bell. He shudders deeply, and the feeling is so much more with Mouse still sliding inside him, pushing all the way home.

He almost can't believe the feeling, once they're finally connected.

"I love you, Pocky," Mouse says, gazing down at him.

He's never said anything like that to anyone before. He's never even wanted to.

"Love you too," Charis says, and it doesn't feel like a confession. It feels easy. He reaches up and gives Mouse's long hair a sharp tug. "But if you don't start moving, I'm going to cut your hair off while you sleep."

Mouse laughs and smothers his face in Pocky's neck.

He starts fucking him in earnest. Their bodies move so well together, and Mouse feels a funny hit of smugness. Of course they would. Of course they just fit.

Afterward, Charis feels sore but languid. His whole body feels dreamy, and his mind feels clear for maybe the first time in weeks.

Mouse props himself up on his elbow to watch Charis as he moves around the room. He makes no secret of the fact that he's checking out Pocky's ass and the long, slender line of his legs.

"Are your legs okay?" he asks.

"Mm."

Charis nods, testing one at the knee. "Hips are a little sore, but I think that's fine."

"Why me?" Mouse suddenly asks. "Why me and not Soohyun?"

Mouse's hair had come loose in all their activities. It spills around him like black tendrils of ink.

Charis pauses, his brow furrowing a bit. He wasn't expecting that question. "I could ask you the same thing. Why me and not Kiki?"

Mouse makes a face at him.

"Okay, so not Kiki. But you could have anyone you wanted."

"So could you."

Charis shakes his head. "But I don't want anyone else."

Mouse looks into his eyes with an intensity that makes something inside Charis squirm all over again.

Is this lust? Or is it something more?

"Same," Mouse says.

Mouse looks at him, and it doesn't feel bad to be looked at. Charis expects that he might feel different somehow, for having had sex, but he doesn't. He feels the same, and kind of refreshed. He stretches luxuriantly.

Charis doesn't know if he's ever seen that expression on Mouse's face before. Mouse looks wholly satisfied. He lies back in the bed, the pale lines of his lean and strong body on full display.

"So what does this mean?" Charis asks. He has to ask. He knows how Mouse is. And he doesn't mean that in a bad or judgmental way. Just, he knows how Mouse is.

He knows how he likes things, no strings attached.

Charis is so breezy and beautiful. When he pulls Mouse's white collared shirt around him, letting the sides trail open, he looks so effortlessly lovely that Mouse can feel his entire scalp go numb.

"What do you mean?" Mouse asks dumbly.

"You know. This. Us." Charis tilts his head to the side. "I guess I mean that it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to. We can still just be friends."

"Is that what you want?" Mouse asks carefully. "To be friends?"

He remembers what Pocky had confessed to him what feels like forever ago—that he just doesn't want it, doesn't care about sex or romance. He tucks all his feelings carefully inside. It's true that he doesn't want to upset Charis, basically ever. So he'd told Charis he loves him—so what?

Charis bites his lip. "I think I like you as more than a friend," he confesses solemnly.

Something in Mouse unravels all at once, some tension stretched to its breaking point, now unspooling. "Yeah," Mouse says. "Same."

When Charis comes back to bed, Mouse wraps himself around him. They arrange themselves so Mouse is leaning back against the headboard, and Charis is leaning against Mouse. Mouse wraps his arms around Charis, feeling spoiled by all the bare skin at his disposal.

"I love you, Pocky," he says again, kissing at his neck.

"I love you, too," says Charis.

He will worry about this very soon. Charis will overthink it, trying to figure out what this means—for them, for Fairytale. But for just now, he's too happy to worry about much of anything.