Notes: I was hoping to keep everything in this challenge just a drabble—I guess I kind of failed that. (And here is where I pimp my help_japan thread again.)
Word Count: 3500
Summary: It’s funny, how sometimes, your fear of having something all to yourself completely overrides your desire to actually take it.
The first real encounter that Leeteuk has with Kibum isn’t exactly one that he would like to remember.
It’s a few days after Super Junior starts sharing a dorm, and they still haven’t gotten used to each other’s living habits yet. Although Leeteuk doesn’t think so, his sister has always said that he’s terribly difficult to live with, mainly because he’s pretty inconsiderate of others. Leeteuk doesn’t care what his sister says.
He’s just doing his daily routine—wake up, check phone, and jerk off in the bathroom—and is in the middle of doing the last thing before Kibum opens the bathroom door and steps in.
(Because back at home, Leeteuk never had to lock the bathroom door. Everyone had their own bathroom, and no one ever came near his.)
Needless to say, it’s really awkward. Both of them freeze, Kibum’s hand on the doorknob and Leeteuk’s on his cock—and the younger boy looks him up and down once, before stepping back out calmly and without a word. Leeteuk is too busy freaking out about his personal dignity and pride as a leader to worry about his erection that had wilted as quick as a heartbeat.
This really isn’t the best way to start building relationships with my bandmates, he thinks to himself, dismayed.
Leeteuk is unable to speak to Kibum, or even look him in the eye for two weeks after that—and needless to say, in the future, he will always remember to lock the door every time he needs to jerk off.
Kibum is one of those people. One of those that Leeteuk can understand very well—one that remains silent, but can be very enthusiastic when the right subject comes up—which isn’t very often. Leeteuk understands him because he’s one of those people himself. They also don’t talk much because Leeteuk knows that he wouldn’t really get along with someone like him.
But he’s the leader, though, so it’s obvious that they’ll have to interact at some point. Leeteuk honestly thinks that Kibum should be the leader instead, despite being the maknae—it seems that he’s infinitely more mature than him. He is all judging stares and quiet laughter, no one quite knowing what it is that he finds so amusing—snarky comments and the one who doesn’t give a damn. It frustrates Leeteuk sometimes, because why are you here if you don’t give two shits about the group but then he sees him still practicing past midnight when he’s leaving the dance studio, sees his brow furrowed with concentration and he can’t find it in him to yell anymore. Leeteuk has never liked yelling anyway.
So maybe Kibum’s not so bad after all.
Leeteuk slowly learns all of the members—how Ryeowook likes memorizing what kind of drinks they prefer in the morning, or how Hankyung enjoys listening, but not talking. Never touch Sungmin’s guitar, and don’t bother cleaning up after Kangin, because his room will be a mess again the next day anyway. He thinks, these boys are mine, and they really are—they look up to him like a leader, even though he’s anything but, he feels privileged, so privileged to have them all belong to him.
“Youngwoon-hyung told me to tell you to eat the leftovers in the fridge,” Kibum says when Leeteuk returns home late from a schedule. It’s well past midnight and all he wants to do is fall asleep and not wake up for the next few years—food is the last thing on his mind right now.
“Why are you still up?” he asks, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up. “We have to be awake in five hours.”
“When you’re given the opportunity to do things you like, you forgo sleep to do it. Youngwoon-hyung also said that you’d brush off the food and say you’ll eat it tomorrow morning, so I’m supposed to watch you eat it all.”
Leeteuk sighs. Typical of Kangin. “But I’m tired.”
“So am I. Now eat.”
Briefly thinking that that’s not how he should treat his hyung, Leeteuk shuffles over to the fridge and pulls out the leftovers. He’s really not that hungry—he’d rather pass out.
“What are you doing?” he asks Kibum, settling down at the kitchen table.
The younger boy doesn’t even look at him. “Catching up on some news.” He’s scrolling down on the computer at an alarming rate—Leeteuk will never know how he reads so fast.
The one thing he’s learned about Kibum: he is not quiet because he’s indifferent—he’s quiet because he doesn’t know how to express himself. He’s a typhoon on the inside of all sorts of emotions, but most of the time it’s just anger, if the way he occasionally grinds his teeth or clenches his fists are anything to go by. He’s probably fed up with the rest of the group, Leeteuk thinks. He’s probably tired of all of their stupidity.
“Hey, Kibum-ah.” Leeteuk keeps his eyes carefully trained onto his food. “Do you hate us?”
Pause. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“No, not really. But”—Leeteuk looks up then, and Kibum’s staring right back at him with a sly smirk on his lips—“I like you the least.”
It might’ve started then—or even earlier, maybe. Leeteuk would never know when he started yearning for Kibum’s presence—the quiet comfort, because with some people, you just don’t have to talk. He’s an emcee—he babbles for a living, and it’s just nice to come home to some peace. Kibum, oddly enough, becomes his peace.
And they’re not like that. Leeteuk knows better than for them to be like that. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it—hasn’t caught himself staring at Kibum’s lips for a moment too long, wondering what they taste like. Probably like cigarettes, he figures—Kibum doesn’t smoke, but he would taste like cigarettes anyway: suffocating and bitter and so very, very addicting.
“Not like that.” Leeteuk pauses mid-dance, and glances at Kibum’s reflection in the mirror. The others have left already, but for some reason, he can’t get this one move down. He usually doesn’t bother because Super Junior’s dances are never going to be as synchronized as some other groups, but he doesn’t like being the imperfect one.
“Then how?” He straightens up, roughly wiping the sweat from the side of his face. Kibum has already changed back into his regular clothes, the duffel bag over his shoulder and ready to go.
Dropping his bag, the younger boy moves to stand near Leeteuk. It’s a moment of silence—everyone needs this moment, to get the song into his heart, the beat in his veins—and then he moves. Kibum is no Hankyung or Hyukjae, but he can still dance, and it makes Leeteuk infinitely jealous—Leeteuk, who is mediocre in both singing and dancing and still manages to be the leader.
He tries to follow the moves, but doesn’t know how well he’s doing until Kibum stops and moves behind him, hands on his arms and helping him through the movements. His heart jumps to his throat for stupid reasons, and he tries not to lean back into the touch, against the body that’s so close to his. Don’t.
“You’re not concentrating.” Kibum clicks his tongue, and Leeteuk looks away, guilty. “It’s like this. No, bend down more. More.”
It’s at this point that Leeteuk wonders if they really bend down this low, because he’s pretty sure they’ve never had to become nearly ninety-degree angles. He feels Kibum pressing at his backside, and he takes a glance at their reflection in the mirror—oh, okay, bad idea. He needs a cold shower, pronto.
Clearing his throat, he straightens up. “Uh, thanks, Kibum-ah. I think I know how to do it now.”
Nodding, Kibum steps away from him as if nothing had happened. “No problem.” His eyes—dark, so dark—are on Leeteuk, and the older boy swallows, feeling his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
They’re not like that. But sometimes, Leeteuk wonders why they’re not, because it’s clear that both of them want it. Kibum is all about not touching—not even the ghosting of skin across skin—but his eyes say so many things that can’t be put into words. Leeteuk finds himself lost in those eyes, swimming and drowning and suffocating and suffocating so good. It’s everything for him not to just lose himself forever.
“I’m going to practice a bit longer,” he manages, voice shaking imperceptibly. “You should head back first.”
Kibum nods. “Okay. See you later.”
The moment he leaves the room, Leeteuk falls to the floor, all strength lost.
It’s almost like a lifetime of torture—you can look, but you can’t touch. The days pass like that and Leeteuk swears that he’s going to burst eventually—either emotionally or in his pants. Kibum is just Kibum—quiet and stoic but indescribably sensual at all the wrong times.
Leeteuk kind of hates Kyuhyun sometimes. He’s a toned down version of Kibum, their new maknae—he picks up on all of the tiny things and brings them into the light with his snarky comments and witty comebacks. Leeteuk usually doesn’t mind him—and actually finds him quite funny when he picks on the other members—but then he goes and says something like, “There isn’t anything on Kibum-hyung’s face, so why are you staring at him?” and he’s ready to kick him where it hurts.
Life passes like that, and Leeteuk gets used to it—the routine of catching him off guard and violently jerking off every morning in the bathroom. He’s almost comfortable with this sort of balance—until, of course, it all falls apart.
“Acting career?” His voice is quiet. “You need to completely dissociate from Super Junior to pursue your acting career?”
“I want to take on big projects,” Kibum says, seemingly indifferent. “I won’t have time for recordings or promotions.” Everyone is quiet at the dinner table, but Leeteuk can hear nothing but empty noise in his head—clashes of static and desperate heartbeats rolled all into one.
“But you’ll come back though, right?” Donghae asks, looking as lost as Leeteuk feels. “It’s not like you’re leaving us forever.”
Kibum smiles at him like he’s comforting a child. “Of course. It’ll just be for a while.”
Donghae smiles back. “Then it’s okay, I guess. As long as you’ll be back.”
“I’ve already talked to the management about this.” Kibum shovels more rice into his mouth. “They said it was a go.”
Leeteuk clenches his chopsticks so hard, he’s sure they’re going to bend underneath the pressure. “So just because the management says you can go, you’re going to go?” All heads turn towards him, but he can only stare angrily at the side dishes sitting directly in front of him. “You decide this without discussing with any of us—is that all we mean to you? Are we just your colleagues, Kibum, are we nothing to you?”
“What makes you think that, hyung? I’ve talked about wanting to act ever since Pin-Up Boys…”
For some reason he can’t comprehend, he feels close to tears. “So that gives you the excuse to not discuss this with us beforehand? When are you leaving? How long will you be gone for? Will you still be living with us? These are big things and you didn’t tell us about them!”
There is silence all around, and when Leeteuk looks up, everyone’s staring at him. “Why are you making such a big deal about this? It’s not like he’s leaving us for good.” Kangin’s brow is furrowed in concern, and Leeteuk wants to punch him. “Is there something wrong? You can tell us, you know.”
He probably looks silly. To the others, it probably seems like he’s overreacting. “Nothing’s wrong,” he mutters, returning to his food.
And it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what Kibum is to Leeteuk—they talk to each other no more than they talk to the others, but he swears, there’s something there—he’s not hallucinating it when Kibum looks at him with eyes darker than usual, or when he says some cryptic thing. It means something, Leeteuk just knows it does.
He just doesn’t know what.
It’s his turn to buy the groceries, and he isn’t exactly in the best of moods when he returns home. Everyone should be out with some schedule right now, while he’s stuck being the housewife. If he should be doing anything on an idling Thursday afternoon, it should be sleeping.
He’s grumbling as he kicks off his shoes, hearing them collide with the wall, before shuffling towards the kitchen to dump everything on the table for Ryeowook to organize later. After shrugging off his jacket, he turns to go pass out in his room, but something in the living room catches his eye. For a moment, all of the blood rushes out of his head and straight to his groin.
Kibum is sitting at the computer like usual, earphones plugged in. In any regular situation, Leeteuk would assume that he’s watching a drama of some sort, save for the fact that he’s leaning back comfortably in his chair, massaging the obvious bulge in his pants.
Porn. He’s watching porn.
Leeteuk feels nauseous and excited at the same time—disgusted at how shameless he is, aroused at how hot he is. Kibum he always been that way to him—just a ball of sexual tension that he can’t describe, can never touch.
He clears his throat loudly to let the younger boy know of his presence. Kibum casts him a single glance, before his attention returns to the computer.
What the hell.
At least when Kibum walked in on Leeteuk jerking off all that time ago, he had the dignity to be ashamed. Leeteuk finds himself glued to the spot, staring at Kibum’s parted lips, at the hand palming his erection through his pants.
After a few moments, the younger boy looks at him again. “Do you want to watch, too?” Leeteuk swallows at this and God it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, but it’s wrong in all of the right ways and he just shakes his head speechlessly, sure that if he tries to say anything intelligent, it’ll just come out as something exactly the opposite.
“No, I was just—just heading back to my room.” Except not really.
Kibum shrugs, nonchalant, but his eyes are swimming with lust. He stares at Leeteuk hungrily, and Leeteuk tries very hard not to come in his pants when he unzips his jeans.
He moves backwards a couple of steps to grip the kitchen table, sure that his knees will give out from underneath him if he doesn’t have something to hold onto. Out. He has to get out of here. He needs go somewhere where Kibum is out of his sight and oh he has a nice cock.
Kibum stares at him the entire time, eyes half-lidded, and Leeteuk can clearly hear the distinct sound of skin against skin, and his mouth has gone dry and he’s stuck and he can’t move and oh God—
The front door opens in that moment, and he hears someone’s voice, but he’s too out of it to recognize who it belongs too. Kibum looks too far gone to care, but Leeteuk’s heart stops in that moment and his feet suddenly start working again and he races to his room as if his life depended on it.
(That doesn’t stop his imagination from running wild, though—replaying the image of Kibum’s blissful face, biting his bottom lip, tongue seen glistening between his teeth—and the way he would look when he comes—)
Leeteuk lets out a choked gasp, and quickly pulls down his zipper.
It’s a few days before Kibum is packing his bags and leaving for good, and Leeteuk hasn’t been able to look him in the eye since.
Kangin is having lunch with him like they usually do on Saturdays, but Leeteuk’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize that Kangin’s talking to him until he snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Dude, are you okay?”
(No—no, I’m not okay. I’m pretty sure I have some twisted feelings towards another guy, I saw him jerking himself off the other day and I found it hot as fuck, I can’t stop thinking about him and he’s going to be leaving soon for an indefinite amount of time. So no, Youngwoon, I am not okay and stop looking at me like I’m some stray animal or something because that is the last thing I need right now.)
“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m fine.” Kangin looks disbelieving, though, and Leeteuk doesn’t blame him—he isn’t exactly the best liar around. (He’s no Kibum.)
“Look, if it’s something about Kibum’s whole acting thing…” Kangin sighs, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, what more would it take than to just talk to him, right? I’m pretty sure he’ll hear you out of you have something to say.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
“A lot of people give good advice, but never follow their own.” Leeteuk just stares him down until he sighs. “Fine, whatever. But once he’s gone, I don’t want you moping to me.”
“I have better people to mope to, jerk.”
But he really doesn’t know what to do. He can’t even do so much as be in the same room as Kibum, but he can’t just let him leave like this, without a word. To Leeteuk, Kibum is everything he never thought he needed—silence and static and pure desire—an ocean, swallowing him whole until his lungs go up in flames. He can’t breathe with him, and he can’t breathe without him—he’s stuck, right where he is, not going forward and not going backward and is it so wrong to just want him to stay?
He finds Kibum alone in his room, wearing the toque that Leeteuk has always thought looked best on him. He pauses for a moment and wonders if he can count on his hands how many times he’s seen him smile—and then if he can count on one hand how many times he’s smiled for him.
“Hyung.” Kibum looks up from the book he’s reading. “What’s up?”
(And how he ever handles himself, Leeteuk will never know. He has no idea what goes through Kibum’s mind, and suddenly, he, who’s yearned for silence all his life, just wants Kibum to talk and talk and never stop.)
“I—” The words get stuck in his throat, and everything that he wanted to say flies disappears. “Don’t go, Kibum-ah.”
The younger boy blinks. “Why are you acting like I’m leaving for good?”
Because it feels like you are. “I’m not—but just stay a little longer. I—I want—” I want you to stay forever. “I want things to stay the same. You’re an important part of the group.”
“Just as important as the next person over,” Kibum says dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, hyung—I’ll be back before you know it. I just want to broaden my horizons.” He grins a little, and Leeteuk wants to strangle him because right now is not the time to grin.
And how are you supposed to tell someone they mean so much to you, when they’re not even supposed to?
Leeteuk looks around the room—the bare desk, the one suitcase sitting at the foot of Kibum’s bed. He’s ready for this—he’s been ready for a while. Leeteuk is the only one lagging behind. He’s always the one lagging behind.
Kibum raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to give you a goodbye kiss, or something?”
He shakes his head frantically. Yes, yes, God yes—“What am I, gay?”
The younger boy laughs lightly. “I think there’s a little bit of gay in all of us.” Leeteuk wants to snap at him and say that it’s not funny, but maybe it is, just a little—but still, the smile doesn’t reach his lips. “Is that Youngwoon-hyung calling for you outside?”
He pauses, listening. So it is. Not knowing what else to say, he just stuffs his hands in his pockets. “See you later, then.”
“Yeah, see you.”
When Youngwoon asks him if talking helped sort things out, Leeteuk just buries his face in his shoulder, quiet.
omg what did i just write /dies