It's You

Chapter 15

*

Yohan stepped back into his room, clad in his black night gown and a towel over his shoulders, one hand brushing through his wet hair only to freeze as his eyes found the man of his dreams sitting on his bed. Chocking, he coughed out hoarsely: "Gaon?", hand slipping from his hair as he stared stupidly at the sinful sight.

Gaon wasn't allowed to look at him with soft eyes while sitting on Yohan's bed, large shirt falling around his frame. What the hell was the younger thinking?! Coming in here and showing off what Yohan yearned for but couldn't have. And what was Yohan doing?! He should have immediately asked Gaon if something was wrong instead of drinking up the delightful sight. God, he'd never get rid of the image of Gaon on his bed. Heat churned in his gut, and it took everything to not cross the space between them and take what was so freely offered.

Clearing his throat shakily, Yohan ripped his eyes finally away, pointedly staring just beside the younger as he asked: "What's wrong? Are your injuries hurting?"

Gaon's eyes seemed to be glued on him, wide and heated. Yohan wasn't prepared for his next words.

"May I dry your hair, Hyung?"

"What?" Yohan breathed disbelieving.

What on earth was going on?

Encouraged by the not explicit rejection Gaon scooted to the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the edge and asked again: "Let me do this for you, please."

Well, Yohan was weak in face of the younger's pleading eyes shining with excitement. To be honest he was weak no matter what Gaon did. Especially now that he was unfortunately aware of the depth of his feelings, he couldn't find it in himself to deny him anything. And if Gaon wished to dry his hair, who was he to deny him? And if the thought of the younger's fingers in his hair caused a strange heat pool in his gut and letting the beast in him look up, that was no-one's business but Yohan's.

Clearing his throat unsurely, he eyed the younger again, searching for any sign of ridicule or hesitation because if Yohan gave in and Gaon pulled back it would hurt so badly. Turning back around he grabbed for the hairdryer, stored innocently away in the bathroom cabinet. Fingers tightly wrapped around it, he cautiously walked back almost expecting the younger to have left already.

Yohan was proven wrong when he found Gaon where he had left him, biting his bottom lip as he stared angrily at his hands. Feverishly, Yohan went through the last minutes, wondering what had caused Gaon to lose that earlier excitement without luck.

"Gaon-ah," he called, holding out the hair dryer with fortunately steady hands.

The smile lighting up the younger's face was worth everything. A soft gasp left his lips and Gaon scrambled to get up, almost ripping the appliance out of Yohan's hands. Despite the obvious excitement he gently pushed Yohan on his bed, kneeling behind him.

There was a moment of tense waiting, Yohan holding his breath, unable to ignore the vicious whispers in his mind, but then there were tender fingers carding through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp and Yohan would never admit that he reached a never known peace at the touch.

"When Yohan had turned around without a word, Gaon had been sure it was the other's way of rejecting him nicely but then Yohan had come back, hair dryer in hand, and had called his name. Before he knew it, he was kneeling behind him, dark curls closer in reach than ever and he was allowed to touch. He couldn't help but admire it for a moment before touching the captivating curls adoringly. It was a dream come true.

They sat in complete silence and while it would have been awkward and uncomfortable with anyone else, it felt perfect with the two. They didn't need words to communicate nor did they feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter, not when Yohan's almost inaudible sighs and closed eyes told more than any words; not when Gaon's soft touches - sometimes so featherlight Yohan doubted his sanity, other times firm enough to cause him to bite his lips lest he let out something embarrassing – spoke volumes. It was perfect. And for a while it stayed like that, both men getting a real taste of what they yearned for, just enough to get them addicted and aware that they'd die a painful death should their new addiction be taken away.

The end came sooner than either had expected.

Gaon brushed his fingers through soft curls a last time, turning of the device and folding his hands in his lap. Forbidding them from returning to Yohan's body.

It was unexpectedly difficult to harden his heart again and return to the real world outside of the bubble they had found themselves in, but Yohan knew it had to be done. He couldn't allow himself to bask in the undivided affection of Gaon any longer. He had to enjoy this new drug in small doses, just enough to not lose all sanity.

"Hyung."

Yohan turned around, fully aware of the affect the younger had on him.

"Will... will you let me stay the night?"

Kim Gaon was going to be the death of him. One way or another. Maybe it was the exhaustion he'd held back ever since Gaon's accident, maybe it was the adrenaline rush of finally being aware of his feelings while the object of his affection kneeled before him, or maybe it was Yohan's subconscious attempt to sabotage his own happiness that led him to this rushed reaction. Perhaps it was a mixture of all three.

Nevertheless, at the request Yohan whispered haughtily: "I can't sleep with a shirt on. Do you honestly want to see that?"

He turned around quickly, refusing to see the younger's face twist into a shocked and disgusted grimace as he let the nightgown slip from his shoulders, displaying his back for the world to see.

He had once before shown his scars to Gaon, displaying the burned cross and what he'd gotten was pity and guilt. It had been kinder than what he usually received when showing his punishment – there had been none of the usual disgust or revulsion. Nevertheless, Gaon had - not that Yohan had expected something else – just like everyone else never touched his are skin afterwards. There hadn't been a single person that had touched his bare back since he'd been branded – even the rare one-nightstands had insisted on him wearing a cover – and Yohan didn't find it in him to blame any of them. He knew the map of ugly bumps and raised scar tissue well. All he hoped for was for Gaon to leave quietly and act like he'd never seen anything tomorrow.

It was all the more shocking when the weight behind him shifted and Yohan squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see him leave only for soft lips to trail along his spine as strong arms slung around his waist.

Yohan refused to acknowledge the little whimper that escaped his lips nor the way he lunged forwards at the first unexpected caress. He refused to acknowledge the shivers wrecking his body as those lips followed each and every ugly mark, he knew marred his skin in an intricate pattern. He refused to acknowledge the sting in his eyes when a kiss was left right in the middle of the cross spanning over his back.

"You're beautiful, Hyung. You're so strong."

It wasn't until something wet trailed down his skin along with each tender touch that Yohan dared to breathe again, asking weakly: "Why are you crying?"

He felt Gaon lean his head against his back – seemingly unaffected by the ugliness of it all – strands of messy hair tickling his neck lightly.

"Because you've been hurt so badly you can't see how beautiful you are."

It was too much.

"Sleep," he begged hoarsely. "Let's just sleep."

Yohan wasn't ready to talk or admit what Gaon had awoken and thankfully Gaon allowed him to escape.