Blue {DoTae} | complete

Twenty-three: Only the shadows answer me

Shit hits the fan. Big time. :c

Will you forgive me if I give you a cookie?🍪

Also please read the note at the end!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The following morning is groggy. The sun is already shining through the open curtains by the time Doyoung resurfaces from his deep slumber, disorientated and with Taeyong plastered to his side, their legs tangled and the sheets mostly on the floor. Despite the fact that his entire body is weighed down by the sticky reminder of the wine, he feels afloat. Light-headed but like a rock at the same time. And the skin around his nose is crawling, in desperate need of a wash. Careful to not disturb the elder from his gentle snores, Doyoung slides out of bed, realising that he did in fact spend the night in Taeyong's room as he had been hoping, and pads across the carpet. It's soft beneath his bare feet, a little ticklish, then the tiles on the bathroom floor are shockingly cold, the sensation shooting up his legs and knocking him fully awake.

He puts up with it anyway and reaches for one of the fancy bottles of face wash sitting on the marble counter beneath the mirror. At least, that's what he assumes it is - he doesn't understand the words printed on the label. It's a translucent orange when he squeezes some out as a test, and the sweet combination of citrus and flowers teases his nostrils. Eyes closed, he splashes his face with a bit of cold water from the tap.

It's refreshing, helping to erase the weights from his eyelids and the germs from his skin, especially from around his nose where it always itches with grime in the morning. He uses his nails to scratch at the skin there before filling his cupped hands with more water and rubbing across his face.

The routine is tedious but it has to be done right, if he wants to get rid of the germs, the bacteria crawling across his skin that could lead to spots or all kinds of horrible infections he shivers just thinking about. Water is usually enough, but Doyoung decides to treat himself since the luxury brands are at his disposal. He couldn't possibly miss the opportunity to massage the face wash over his cheeks and down the bridge of his nose, softly rubbing until it turns into white foam, then he drags his nails around his nose again, just to make sure, and washes it all off with more water.

The towels are pristine white and the fluffiest Doyoung has ever touched. He reckons he could fall asleep again just from feeling it on his face when he dries his skin, but he uses what willpower he has to put it aside and blink his eyes open to meet his reflection in the mirror.

It takes a few seconds to stop seeing duplicates of himself, and Doyoung leans forward when his vision stills. His hair is frizzy and ruffled in all directions, revealing a patch of bare skin from where he'd been pulling, so he does his best to pat it down while examining the rest of his face. The eye bags are obvious, but he reassures himself that it could be the light. His lips are a little cracked.

Doyoung brings his hands down to grip the edge of the counter at the realisation.

His lips. Him, on Taeyong's lap. He kissed Taeyong.

He considers locking himself in the bathroom and never emerging again, anything to not face Taeyong after last night. The memory is fuzzy, but very much real from the way his lips tingle and his fingers tense, the picture of him leaning in to initiate the kiss looping over and over in his mind, impossible to shake away.

Did Taeyong like it? Did he kiss back? Doyoung's sure he did, but he still doesn't trust his brain enough to not let his doubts eat away at the memory, darkening it so that he regrets the drunk decision. Would he have done that while sober? He knows he wouldn't. Sober Doyoung doesn't have the confidence, let alone the capacity to even process his feelings for the idol.