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pollenat · 4 years

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SF9 and 5 ways to say I love you

➛ Note: There are few indications of nsfw themes.

INSEONG

Pouting when he scolds you for taking his jacket. He doesn’t like sharing clothes, and you know it. But the material smells the same way he does. You want to be surrounded by it 24/7. His demeanor changes at your confession. The familiar darkness of his eyes softens. You think he may forgive you, but he returns to scolding, this time with you in his embrace. Still, he doesn’t take the jacket back.

The sharpness of his gaze as you press yourself closer to him. People around are talking, too busy to notice a touch-hungry couple. Yet the thought of going further in the current surroundings doesn’t please you. Inseong has much less self-control. His knuckles turn white from the tight grip on a wine-glass, his other hand reaching down your back. It’s not long after that you leave the party.

Drawing each other on napkins when you’re in a cafe. The drinks are cold by the time you finish, but you’re satisfied with the work. He laughs at the little message you’ve added. “Does loving you make me a furry?”. Your eyes meet for a short moment before he writes down a “yes”.

The vibrations of his chest that are forced by honest laughter. Curious, you attempt to look back at him, but your head can’t go far enough, and in the end it moves from his breast to shoulder. “What’s so fun-” before you can finish asking, his phone plays the same video again. Your heads collide when you join in on the laughter.

The strength of wind one very random day, when you’ve decided to go out. It doesn’t spare anyone, pushing and pulling in the chosen direction. When you finally find shelter inside the first shop you see, both you and Inseong look ridiculously messy. As you’re rearranging his torn locks, you don’t miss the way he smiles at your features. Finally, he brings his hands up to help you too, but only after your scolding.

YOUNGBIN

Sighing when he tells you to pose for a picture. He has way too many similar ones saved on his phone, but Youngbin doesn’t care about your complaints. “I need them.” “For what?” “For when you’re too busy to see me.” His answer makes you smile bashfully. The picture he takes that day becomes his favorite.

A car ride in the morning. Streets are crowded with colorful cars and sleepy workers, as they all wander somewhere with a clear destination in mind. You do as well, but not to work or school. Youngbin’s eyes catch yours, their glossy surface turning soft from the exchange. His hands are gripping a steering wheel, meant to take you far away from the city’s traffic, to the holidays in the middle of the week.

Sharing heated kisses despite the discomfort that the countertop brings to your bottom. You can’t take your attention away from Youngbin’s magnetic touch and warm breath. But there’s a thought that tries to break through his presence. Finally, he sighs in annoyance and reaches behind you to turn down the cooker. “Better safe than sorry.” introduces another series of meeting lips, now much steadier without anything to bug your minds.

He never complains whenever his head hurts, but the weight on your lap is enough to tell you everything. Youngbin sighs deeply as you press your fingers to his temples. Then he smiles shyly and says a quiet thank you, glad to have someone who understands him without words.

The way he never raises voice at you, even when the annoyance is all too evident on his face. You want to bite back, make a remark that is bound to make him more frustrated, but Youngbin leaves before you get the chance to. “I don’t want to fight any longer. Let’s talk once we both calm down.” he hesitates by the door, hand reaching forward to meet yours in a gesture of goodbye. But then he remembers you’re angry at one another, and drops the limb. You cannot miss the shadow of sadness on his face.

JAEYOON

The sight of his broad shoulders, and the warmth of his arm hugging your folded legs. TV hums in the background, easily engaging him in the latest news. To you, it’s just a background noise. Jaeyoon’s soft hair draw the end of your world, their texture lovely in touch. As your fingers massage that one spot, he leans into them, a deep sigh silencing the news anchor. He remind you of a touch-starved puppy.

Placing down your lucky word on the Srabble board. Jaeyoon scoffs at the two bonuses you are given and your winning dance. “You got lucky.” is his reasoning, which you do not question. Games like Scrabble are all about four-leaf clovers, but it won’t stop you from celebrating. Your partner watches with his arms crossed, and just as you’re about to make a turn, small smile spreads his mouth in a way best described as fond.

The clash of strength when you’re wrestling on the sand. Jaeyoon wanted to put dirty lock of seaweed on your head, which earned him a push to the ground. As you manage to distract him for long enough to sit on his chest, you stop, stunned by his radiant smile. It’s framed in sunscreen, grains of sand, and wet strands of hair. All of which take your breath away long enough for him to overpower you.

Hiding under covers during a stormy night. It’s not a reason behind your activity, rather a simple correlation, because neither you, nor Jaeyoon feel anything similar to fear. Instead, you’re grinning at one another in the darkness. His feet tangle with yours, hands twist and run over each other’s bodies, sighs melt into one. A thunderbolt lights up the world outside, but surges through your veins when the man in your embrace finally lays a kiss you’ve been waiting for.

A growing collection of cacti, neatly organized on a window sill. Each one has a name, which their buyer welcomes with amusement, but never ridiculousness. “Did you feed our children?” “Of course! Do you take me for a terrible father?” Sometimes, when he’s lost in thought, you observe his unconscious habit of touching their needles.

DAWON

Admiring his calmness as he munches on a chicken wing. Once he realizes you’re not eating, he offers you another one, his eyes innocent, hot sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth. You don’t take the wing, instead reaching forward to wipe the liquid with your thumb. Sanghyuk chokes on his food as you put the finger in your mouth.

Lying in bed, your backs facing each other, either of you scared to turn around after the argument you had. There’s no more anger, only longing to go back to normal and see the other’s face. You miss his voice, but the uneasy silence is pressing on your chest, too heavy to allow words. Instead, you move your hand back, in search of his, and when you eventually do, you’re elated to find him returning the grip.

The afternoons when you sit down on a bench, watching passersby and narrating their lives. Neither of you can stop laughing during those, attracting attention of strangers, but all of them wave you off as just another weird couple. “You have to admit, he does look like a murderer.” Sanghyuk smiles at the sound of your maniacal laughter. His arm pulls you closer to his side.

Feeling his hands resting on your sides as he approaches the conversation you’re busy with. There’s nothing possessive about Sanghyuk’s grip, although your primary companion gives you an uncomfortable smile. You’re not the type to tell the man behind you off for showing the purest sort of affection for his other half. Even if in the end, the person is quick to escape. “What a nice guy. Too bad he had to leave.” you smile at Sanghyuk’s honest cluelessness.

The sight of him dressed in an apron, fresh batch of cookies still steaming from the oven’s temperature. Frosting is bubbling in the pan, and he curses as soon as he realizes what’s going on. Quick as to not burn it, Sanghyuk turns off the stove. You lean on the doorway, watching him move around the kitchen, until he finally realizes you’re back. Just a look at you and his mouth widens to show off a welcoming grin.

ZUHO

Nights spent in front of the computer screen, on Juho’s thighs, with his silhouette embracing you. He’s busy with work, but doesn’t complain about your weight. It would be weird if he did, considering he was the one to insist on your presence. Perhaps to use you as a chin stand. It digs in the side of your neck, hesitating between a massage and painful annoyance. “What? Am I bothering you?”.

Having trouble staying mad at him. Even if the argument you had was a rather big one, Juho continues doing the little things. As if everything was normal. Coffee, extra meal, even that dumb yogurt you like the most - they’re all still there, no matter what. Their presence is a needle stinging the back of your head, telling you to put the fight behind and return to the warmth of the person you’re so used to.

The times when his shy side steps back, to let another one take over. That Juho is more confident, smiling slyly, with a gaze twice as dark. There are new depths to him that beg for exploration. No matter how many times you’ve experienced it all, nothing about him can bore you. There’s a side of an obsessed explorer to your always Juho-starved mind. Even when his deep voice laughs at the excitement you’re showing, he doesn’t push you away. He seems to enjoy the attention just as much.

A never-ending string of chat conversations. Be it cute pictures of cats, rare memes, or just a voiced desire to eat junk food, you always look forward to the signs of communication. And if he won’t provide, you will. With a picture he may not want to show his friends, or words he won’t use in a love song, worried it will somehow get out. These are for him only.

Correcting the collar of his shirt, minutes before he’s supposed to leave for an evening out. It’s a normal thing to do - spend time with others, not just your loved one - but the close future still feels salty on your tongue. Juho asks you a question, and you smile in answer, nodding your head that yes, his friend is sure to like the birthday gift. He mirrors your expression, kisses goodbye, then disappears into the night. Out of sight, not out of mind.

ROWOON

The words of encouragement he uses during a dinner out. Things like “Finish this serving, I’ll ask for another.”, or “You ate too little. Have some more.” accompany each bite you take, deafening the inner voice of guilt. It will come later, when Seokwoo’s voice disappears with a sweet goodbye. And quiver in fear when he scolds you for ever being ashamed of your weight.

Waking up in the middle of the night. Your fingers curl and uncurl, their tips eventually spreading over the warm skin of his chest. Mind wide awake, you cannot just go back to sleep. Instead, you delicately draw shapes, hoping to hypnotize yourself, and somehow keep him awake. All of sudden one of his hands grabs yours and pulls it over his chest, to make you embrace him better. He’s asleep again just a second later.

Goodbyes that take much longer than they should. Even after spending an entire day in each other’s presence, neither of you want to part ways. Seokwoo’s hold is strong, pulling you so close to him, you think he may want to melt the two of you into one. Not that there’s anything wrong with the idea. Was it a possibility, you wouldn’t have thought twice. “I should probably get going.” he says, but the hold loses its strength only much later.

Nothing. You’re doing absolutely nothing, and he still looks like he’s about to melt from the sight alone. His smile is wide, dream-like, and in return you try hiding yourself, because that’s too much for your heart to take. “What? Don’t cover your face!” he’s laughing, his hands grabbing at your forearms to pull them down. When you’re defenseless he places the sweetest of kisses on the very tip of your nose.

The lack of your vitamin S. These instances are so rare, you can never get used to them. It’s like being homesick. Even if you’re sitting on a couch you paid for, home feels far away. It will come back, you’re sure of it. You will do everything to assure its return. But for now, you just sink in the feeling of loneliness, turning over the words, the moments, the possibilities.

TAEYANG

If it wasn’t for his begs, you wouldn’t have ended up dancing in the club. Which would be a shame, because Taeyang was right. Every once in a while you can go out, if just for the sake of seeing him in his element, a satisfied smile decorating such beautiful features he possesses. His hands pull you back into moving when the overwhelming adoration makes you stop for a moment.

The pain being so visible on his face. As much as Taeyang wants to keep the image of a stoic man, hearing your hurtful words makes the walls of a calm act explode into flour-like dust. He trembles in his spot, holding back the waterfall of emotions. How could you, of all people, say something so real to him? Something that could shake him to the bone? When he can’t stay anymore, Taeyang leaves in silence.

A walk through quiet streets. Some ights flicker on and off, broken, some unchangably dark, abandoned due to budget cuts. The sun has set a while back. While most people are busy with their everyday struggles, you and Taeyang are taking slow steps with fingers interlocked. Every few minutes his hip hits yours, seemingly on accident, but just a look at his sly smile is enough to let you know it’s intentional.

“How could you? I’m your boyfriend!” echoes from his contorted lips. “And a sore loser! Can’t I win every once in a while?” His sad eyes and closed mouth answer without a need for words: no, you can’t. Taeyang does a poor attempt at nonchalant shrugging, but his release of the controller means that the game has ended. Only hugs and kisses of affirmation manage to pull his lips into a smile.

The mornings when you wake up beside him. Rays of sunshine fall on his face, gently pulling him out of dreamland. You’re there to witness his first frown, delicate stir, and a turn to his other side, to escape the sun. Before he can register what’s going on around, soft mumbles leave his mouth. So quiet, you need to lean forward to hear better. That’s when he strikes - by kissing your ear. “Eww!” Taeyang just laughs.

HWIYOUNG

Laughing at the sight of a very confused Sanghyuk exiting the toilets. You were meant to wait for him, but Youngkyun couldn’t pass a chance to mess with the poor guy. “We’ll come out after he suffers long enough.” the boy whispers in your ear, his breath warm on the thin skin of a helix. Lean and strong fingers are innocently placed on your side, as if to keep you close, not in place. Perhaps it’s out of his mind, but you? You are more than comfortable there.

The way he embraces you like fine china. It’s so delicate, you’re sometimes worried he doesn’t want to indulge in any physical affection. When the thought crosses your mind, you loosen the grip on his sides. But instead of a sigh of relief, Youngkyun gives you a look of surprise. Questions of genuine worry are quick to follow. And if you have nothing to say, he will make you talk.

Pulling at his hand to follow you inside the store. Youngkyun sighs, reminding you of arrangements you made earlier, but the place looks so inviting, meetings lose their appeal. “Just 5 minutes.” he eventually relents. How does one tell you no? Inside, you’re leading him from a display to display, marveling at the products. Hurrying goes out of your heads, and when you finally leave, you’re late. But Youngkyun doesn’t seem to mind, too busy laughing at the bag of purchases hung on your arm.

The callouses on his hands. You’re massaging them, as if something as simple as smoothing down rougher patches of skin could delete them. It’s not your intention. Rather than anything, you find the feeling of them under your fingertips therapeutic. Youngkyun never comments on the habit, his hands always free when it comes to you. In private, he sometimes even adds foreahead kisses as a bonus.

The feeling of pride living rent-free in your head. Just a look at Youngkyun reminds you of the many reasons he’s so great. His ears redden as soon as he realizes you’re watching, too lost in the sight to be awakened by anything other than loud speech. “Stop!” he gently pushes you away. Maybe you do stop for a while, but the need to look returns soon after.

CHANI

The deathly grip of his hand on your elbow. Its suddenness throws you off, until the sight of his awkward smile comes on display. Leave it to Chanhee to get a bit dramatic with how embarrassed one can become. “It’s just my family.” “What if they don’t like me?” his worries seem absurd to you. “There’s not a single person in this world that dislikes you.” Your eyes meet as you detach his hand to hold it properly. “I’ve got you.”

A hug from behind, few words of affirmation and a smile to the side of your head - a mix of three things that make you unable to say no, as long as they’re contributed by Chanhee. He knows it all too well, often with evident slyness to his smiles. No apology tastes sweeter than the one flying out of his warmth breath by your ear.

The automatic motion of giving him your snacks. One for Chanhee, one for your. Another for Chanhee, another for you. He doesn’t seem to notice the hilaroius aspect of the situation, too busy with his phone. And although you do notice, the discovery only slows down your hand, not stop it. After one more, you surprise him with a soft kiss. Then, as his widened eyes center on you, the hand resumes its task. Chanhee doesn’t complain to anything. Still, his gaze stays on your features for a longer while.

The annoyance on his face making you feel so small, you can’t look at him. The argument is still vivid in your memory, words coming back to torture you more than necessary. You think you may go mad from the absurd of it all, but most of all, from the coldness Chanhee is emanating with. “Whatever.” you tell him instead of an usual goodbye. Maybe because you’re too tired by everything, maybe because you want the sound of it to hurt him.

Noticing how comfortable he is around you. There’s a stark difference between the past Chanhee and the present one. Reddening ears, nervous whispering, secrets - all of them are no longer a thing. There are no walls between your lives. Just the reality of having to deal with an extreme case of a “clown”. But Chanhee can’t know you like to call him that, because in revenge he will find you a nickname much worse.

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