Work Text:
They’ve been dating for three weeks.
Twenty-two days of being soulmates and pretending they’re not.
And for twenty-two days, Keonho has been so careful it hurts. Like, it’s physically painful for him to not touch Seonghyeon wherever he wants to. His hand itches to rest comfortably on Seonghyeon’s waist, grasp his wrist, interlock their fingers, touch the back of his neck and watch the older boy shiver.
He most likely has a problem, but you seriously can’t blame him when Seonghyeon is his soulmate. His soulmate! Eom Seonghyeon is his soulmate. How crazy is that?
But, really. Keonho has to control himself. If they slip and their relationship gets leaked to the public, who knows what will happen. And if he loses Seonghyeon in the process, Keonho can’t afford for that to happen. At all costs. No matter what.
So, he never pushes Seonghyeon.
Never really touches him where it’s too intimate. Just casual, light-hearted touches that fans and staff can brush off as bromance. Friendship. Keonho tries not to cross lines, because being soulmates is already terrifying enough.
Being idols who are soulmates is worse.
Especially when every part of him is wired into wanting more.
Especially when Seonghyeon looks at him with the most beautiful smile on his face and Keonho wants to lose his mind.
And especially when the universe itself is messing with him. Like today, for example.
They’re backstage, finishing warm-ups that James has painstakingly led them through for choreo evaluation. Keonho thinks this much warm-ups is unnecessary, but who is he to argue with his hyung? So, he doesn’t say anything. Everyone else is grabbing water or stretching in a corner, and Keonho can hear Martin laughing at something Juhoon said.
Keonho is sitting on the floor, wiping sweat off his back, trying to calm his heartbeat because Eom Seonghyeon has been doing that stupid shirt-bite thing while stretching his arms. And it lifts his shirt up to reveal a silver of his pale skin and all Keonho wants to do is touch it.
God, he has a problem.
He’s in the middle of thought when Seonghyeon suddenly calls out his name, jogging over. “Keonho! Can you help me with this?”
Keonho looks up, which is an entirely huge mistake.
Because Seonghyeon’s shirt is riding up more, enough to show a silver of pale skin above the waistband of his sweatpants. Enough to make something in Keonho’s chest detonate.
“Wh—What?” He croaks out.
“My mic pack’s stuck,” Seonghyeon says, turning around to show him. “Here. Can you help me adjust it?”
Except in doing that, he lifts his shirt a little higher.
Just a little.
And Keonho’s eyes catch onto something sparkling on Seonghyeon’s skin.
A faint shimmer… a shape… a mark?
Right on the curve of Seonghyeon’s right hipbone.
Keonho’s vision whites out.
…That’s Seonghyeon’s soulmate mark, isn’t it?
He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink. His brain short-circuits so hard he almost drops dead on the spot. That’s the soulmate mark. That’s his soulmate mark. One that you can only get after meeting your soulmate, so it’s kind of like fate and destiny and all that bullshit, you know?
Keonho’s soulmate mark is on Seonghyeon’s hip.
Holy shit?
The world becomes one long alarm sound in his ears, and Keonho— he can’t stop looking. He can’t seem to pry his eyes away from the glistening mark etched into Seonghyeon’s skin.
He really wants to touch it.
“Uh— Keonho?” Seonghyeon prompts, glancing over his shoulder. “You okay?”
Keonho’s lips move before his brain catches up. “Your—your shirt. It’s up.”
Seonghyeon pauses at that, looks down, and realisation dawns on his face once he notices what’s peeking out. His entire face goes a shade of red Keonho has only ever dreamed of putting there.
“Oh,” he says. Very softly. Too softly, actually. He yanks the shirt down like he’s been burned. “Right. That.”
…That??
Keonho is seconds from passing away.
“That?!” he squeaks, absolutely losing control of his composure for the first time in his life. His lips form into a pout, and he can see Seonghyeon’s cheeks flush harder. “You—you can’t just—- walk around with—- with—- that!”
“It’s just my soulmate mark.”
“It’s on your hip.”
“So?”
“So—?! So?!” Keonho flails helplessly at the air, brain melting. “When did you even get your soulmate mark? Why didn’t you tell me?? Do you know what will happen if your shirt lifts up on stage? Do you know what that would do to me?”
Seonghyeon has the audacity to raise an eyebrow.
“...Then don’t look. Also, I think I got it today.”
“I can’t not look!” Keonho blushes hard, jabbing a finger towards Seonghyeon’s hip. The soulmate mark is glowing underneath his shirt, and it glows even brighter when Keonho is looking at it.
Oh, shit.
They both go silent.
“...That should be illegal.” Keonho narrows his eyes at the soulmate mark, who’s practically radiating light at this point. He creeps closer to Seonghyeon, who watches him with an amused, fond gaze.
The mark pulses.
Brightens.
Like it’s reacting to him.
To his voice. To his proximity.
What the hell?
Seonghyeon stiffens, and Keonho goes silent, mouth agape as he stares at the bright soulmate mark.
“...It’s glowing so much,” he whispers.
Seonghyeon’s throat bobs. “You’re too close.”
“I’m not even touching you!”
“That’s still too close,” Seonghyeon looks away, gulping, eyes shy. Keonho sees his ears flush pink, and all he wants to do is find out what will happen if he touches the soulmate mark on Seonghyeon’s hip.
How will he react? How will the soulmate mark react? Will it grow brighter and brighter on Seonghyeon’s skin or pulse or shudder again?
Keonho drags Seonghyeon closer by the arm, and his heart races faster at the breath hitch coming from the older boy.
The mark pulses again.
Keonho looks at it in awe, captivated. He lifts his hand up, and brushes the hem of Seonghyeon’s shirt upwards a little, revealing the soulmate mark in all of it’s glory. The mark is shining, and when his fingers reach out and trace the outline of the mark, Seonghyeon lets out a shaky exhale, hands shooting up to grab onto Keonho’s shoulders.
Seonghyeon’s fingers dig into his shoulders. Not hard, not painful, because he can never bring himself to hurt Keonho. But the grip is tight, and he can tell that his Seonghyeon is holding himself back, composing himself.
Keonho freezes. Because he felt that breath. He heard it, soft and wrecked, and the sound ricochets through him like a live wire.
And the mark— god, the soulmate mark nearly flares. A soft burst of white-gold that lights up the dim backstage hallway like a secret the universe is begging him to touch again. There are staff members all around them, and Keonho silently brings them to a corner where no one can see them.
He can’t let other people see what belongs to him after all.
“Keonho,” Seonghyeon whispers, voice cracking right down the middle.
Keonho looks up at the sound of his name, said so shakily, wrecked to the core.
Seonghyeon is looking anywhere but at him—jaw clenched, lashes trembling, cheeks flushed pink all the way to the tip of his ears. He’s breathing too quickly, trying embarrassingly hard to keep himself together while his soulmate is touching his soulmate mark, staring at him down like he's a temptation incarnate.
Keonho swallows, slow and deliberate. His fingers hover right over the glowing ink. He doesn’t touch it. He wants to see what happens if he just brushes, barely, the heat radiating off of it.
The mark expectedly pulses again, but stronger this time.
And Seonghyeon jerks like he’s been electrocuted.
“Keonho—” he whispers, flushed crimson, heaving. “Don’t— don’t do that.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Keonho whispers back, utterly transfixed. “It… It’s reacting on it’s own.”
“That’s because you’re—” Seonghyeon inhales sharply as the mark shivers under his skin. “—too close, idiot.”
He pouts. “You said that already.”
“And you’re still not moving.”
Keonho looks at him through his lashes, eyes blown wide and impossibly soft it makes Seonghyeon’s breath hitch. “Do you want me to?”
Seonghyeon freezes, and his grip on Keonho’s shoulders tightens. His breath catches again— small and helpless. And Keonho realises instantly: He doesn’t. He absolutely does not want him to move. The knowledge sends heat flooding through him so quickly he has to suck in a breath just to steady himself.
He’s threading into dangerous territory, and he’s never seen Seonghyeon this vulnerable, this open before. Keonho wants to imprint this image into his mind forever and ever.
His hand lifts again—slower this time, gentler, because Seonghyeon’s soulmate mark is something sacred and every hand that touches it should always be kind towards it.
Keonho drags a featherlight line over the edge of the mark, and Seonghyeon breaks.
His knees nearly buckle. A shaky, quiet sound slips out of him— half-exhale, half-moan, and Keonho can tell he’s desperately trying to swallow it down. The sound makes his entire body light up on fire.
“Seonghyeon,” he breathes, caressing the boy’s waist with his thumb. “Did it—did that hurt?”
“No,” Seonghyeon whispers, strangled. “No, it… it didn’t hurt.”
Keonho swears the ground tilts under him.
Because Seonghyeon looks wrecked. Blown open. Vulnerable in a way no audience, no camera, no fan will ever see.
Keonho’s beloved soulmate reacting like this to his touch…
It feels like a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from.
Keonho looks at Seonghyeon with wide, stunned eyes, mesmerized. The latter flinches at the weight of his gaze, blushing harder, gripping his shoulders like a lifeline.
“...Can I try touching it again?”
Seonghyeon whines, hooking his arms around Keonho’s neck, burying his face into Keonho’s shoulder.
“Haven’t you touched it enough already?” he murmurs, breathing in an absolute wreck.
“I want to see what will happen if I touch the center of the mark.”
“...Fine. Only one more time.”
Keonho’s face breaks out into a grin, and when his fingers gently trace the center of the mark—
The soulmate mark explodes in light.
Not bright enough to attract the attention of unwanted staff members, but Keonho feels like his vision whites out for one second before it returns back to normal, the dim light shining in the corner. It’s bright enough to swallow the entire space between them in gold.
Seonghyeon’s back arches.
HIs grip on Keonho’s back turns desperate, and his breath stutters like a broken dam.
“Ke—Keonho.”
Keonho feels it. A pulse, warm and electric, rushing from the mark straight into his fingertips, like the universe is telling him the soulmate mark belongs to him and Eom Seonghyeon is his.
He inhales shakily, voice dropping to a whisper he can barely control. “You okay? Sorry if I took it too far… I just got curious.”
Seonghyeon’s breath shudders as Keonho’s hand rests on his waist. “...I’m fine. Do you have itchy hands or something?”
“Excuse you?” Keonho pouts, pulling Seonghyeon closer. He hugs the older boy, snuggling into his neck. “Why can’t I touch my soulmate mark on my soulmate’s hip, huh?”
Seonghyeon stiffens, just for a moment, because Keonho’s arms around his waist are warm and solid and dangerous. His breath catches in his throat when Keonho nuzzles into his neck like he owns the place. It makes sense now when people call Keonho a puppy, because he is certainly acting like one now. Seonghyeon can practically see his imaginary tail wagging vigorously behind him.
“Wh—why are you hugging me right now?” Seonghyeon whispers, voice cracking embarrassingly as Keonho pulls him even closer, chest pressed against chest, heat spilling between them. “We’re backstage.”
“And?” Keonho mutters, lips brushing against the curve of Seonghyeon’s jaw. “No one’s here.”
“That’s not the point—”
His voice betrays him when Keonho’s thumb instinctively rubs slow, soothing circles against his hip. Right over the soulmate mark. The pulse returns once again, sharp, warm, and so immediate that Seonghyeon inhales shakily at the contact. He sucks in a shaky breath, fingers clenching in the back of Keonho’s shirt.
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” Seonghyeon manages through gritted teeth, though his voice is barely above a whisper.
Keonho tilts his head, lips grazing Seonghyeon’s throat when he talks. His knees almost buckle at the touch. “I’m really not,” he mumbles. “But if it feels good when I—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
Keonho giggles, breathy. “You’re so sensitive…”
“Keonho.” Seonghyeon whimpers, and this time, Keonho is surprised. He’s never heard a sound like that leave the older boy’s mouth before.
Keonho pulls back just enough to look at him.
Seonghyeon’s face is flushed all the way to his ears, eyes dark and glossy with something he definitely doesn’t want to acknowledge right now. His hands remain glued to Keonho’s shoulders, and he resists trying to coo at Seonghyeon for being so adorably flustered.
The soulmate mark glows faintly, still reacting, still warming the air between them.
Keonho’s smile softens immensely. “I’m not trying to tease you, Seonghyeon.”
“Seems like the opposite to me,” Seonghyeon deadpans.
“I’m serious! And besides, it’s a good thing. You’re a human furnace now. Whenever I get cold, I can just touch your soulmate mark and hug you all the time!”
Seonghyeon closes his eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath like he’s trying to gather every last piece of dignity he has left. When he opens them, they’re softer. Warmer. And this time, Keonho’s breath hitches.
“You can’t just touch it whenever you want,” he mutters, voice steadier now, though the pink on his cheeks betrays him. “It’s—It’s a soulmate mark. It reacts. And you know, I react. It’s… distracting.”
Keonho beams. “Good distracting?”
“Terrible distracting,” Seonghyeon says immediately, then pauses when he sees the downcast pout on Keonho’s face. He huffs, blushing harder. “...Good distracting.”
Kenoho's grin widens. “So I can touch it.”
“That’s literally not what I said.”
“But that’s what you meant.”
Seonghyeon groans, head dropping onto Keonho’s shoulder. He hugs him tighter, and his fingers sneak back down to rest harmlessly—harmlessly—on the curve of Seonghyeon’s waist. The mark pulses once more, and it’s just enough to make the older boy’s breath hitch in his throat.
Keonho smirks into Seonghyeon’s hair, fingers gliding over the soulmate mark.
“See? Even your mark likes me.”
Seonghyeon pulls back to glare weakly at him, cheeks blazing.
“Shut up.”
Keonho laughs, and it’s an easy, lovable sound. “Aw, c’mon, Eom Seonghyeon! Don’t hide it from me—hey, where are you going??”
—
Keonho thinks his hands have touched Seonghyeon’s hips every single day for the past week. But really, you can’t blame him. It’s an addiction at this point. The first time he touches it again, it’s not even intentional.
One morning, a few days later, he walks into their dorm kitchen and sees Seonghyeon yawning, pouring water into a plastic cup. His boyfriend’s half-asleep, head drooping, hoodie riding up dangerously.
And Keonho does not remember consciously moving. At all.
He just finds himself behind Seonghyeon, arms around his waist, pulling the hoodie up—
“Keonho?” Seonghyeon instantly says, tired eyes finding him. Though, they look quite alive now that Keonho’s arms are around his waist, grazing against the soulmate mark. “What are you—”
“Good morning,” he mumbles into Seonghyeon’s neck as his finger traces the soulmate mark. It pulses once more, and he grins as he sees Seonghyeon gripping the counter for support.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Seonghyeon murmurs, panting, but he makes no effort to move Keonho’s hands away.
Keonho pouts. “What, I can’t hug my soulmate in the morning?”
“You’re literally touching my soulmate mark! What hugging?”
Keonho hums, pretending to think. His fingers lightly brush the edge of the mark again—just barely—like he’s testing something. “I mean, it’s hugging if my arms are around you.”
“That’s not—” Seonghyeon’s breath stutters when Keonho’s thumb glides over the warm curve of the mark, slow and sinful. “This is not hugging whatsoever.”
“But it wakes you up! I’m being helpful.”
“It’s going to be helpful if you let me go.”
Keonho hums again, ignoring him. His thumb moves, and it presses right on the centre of the mark, and there’s that tiny spark again. That pulse. That little heartbeat that isn’t a heartbeat. It runs straight into Keonho’s hand, and he freezes up.
He isn’t shocked. Rather, the opposite. He is getting way too used to this, too comfortable, too greedy.
Keonho lets go of Seonghyeon’s hips, blushing as hard as the latter.
“...Finally. Way to start the morning, Keonho,” Seonghyeon mumbles.
Keonho grins instead. “Don’t you feel wide awake now though? You should be thanking me!”
“In your dreams, Keonho.” Seonghyeon yawns, and pads out of the kitchen, leaving Keonho staring at his retreating back.
The second time is a bit of a reflex for Keonho.
They’re in the practice room, sweating through the last chorus of their choreography. The music stops, their bodies still moving based on muscle memory, and Seonghyeon stumbles slightly when he bends over to catch his breath. His shirt rides up—
And Keonho’s hand shoots out automatically.
His palm lands right on Seonghyeon’s hip. Right over the soulmate mark. And Seonghyeon jolts, straightening up so fast he almost trips on his own feet. He looks down at Keonho’s hand on his hip, and he sighs, closing his eyes.
“...Keonho.”
“What?” Keonho says a little too innocently. He retracts his hand slowly. “You were gonna fall.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You so were, but okay.”
“If you want to touch my soulmate mark, just ask,” Seonghyeon murmurs, much to Keonho’s surprise. “Stop grabbing my hip out of nowhere.”
Keonho’s lips quirk. “I think it’s more of an instinct for me.”
Seonghyeon grumbles. “That’s the problem!”
They take a break, sitting on opposite sides of the room. But even then, Keonho can’t tear his eyes away from the slice of exposed skin whenever Seonghyeon lifts his shirt to dab sweat away.
Seonghyeon catches him staring every single time, of course.
By the fourth time, he throws a towel at Keonho’s head, and all he can do is laugh.
The third time is relatively worse, mainly because it happened right in front of a staff member.
They’re backstage, waiting for their live stage, microphones clipped onto their outfits. Their stylists are fixing their clothes, touching up on their hair, tapping at powder puffs. The air smells faintly of hairspray and foundation. It’s chaotic, but Keonho’s so familiar with it now.
And in the middle of it all stands Eom Seonghyeon.
Hoodie replaced with their stage outfit—black, sleeveless, soft fabric hugging his waist too well for Keonho’s heart to survive—Seonghyeon lifts his arms so a stylist can clip the mic pack onto the back of his waistband. Which also gives the stylist full permission to tug the shirt up. Just a little. Just enough.
Just enough for Keonho to see the curve of his hip, the soft glow beneath the surface, the faintest top edge of the soulmate mark—
And something in Keonho snaps like dry kindling.
He moves before his brain catches up. He lunges. There’s no hesitation in his actions, just jumping on pure autopilot. Because he’s fully convinced that if even one extra second passes, the entire nation will see his boyfriend’s soulmate mark before he does again, and that’s unacceptable. One moment he’s metres away from Seonghyeon, the next he is right next to him, hands automatically flying up to grip his hip.
Covering the mark.
Seonghyeon jolts, breath catching like someone yanked his soul out of his throat.
“What the hell—”
The stylist blinks, startled. “Oh, my! Did I hurt you?”
“N-No, it’s alright, noona,” Seonghyeon hurriedly reassures her, and Keonho can see him about to say something—probably the truth, because he’s painfully honest like that—so he steps forward, subtly easing the stylist away with the gentlest smile he can muster.
With the cocktail of emotions Keonho is experiencing right now, he’s surprised he can even manage to keep a friendly face towards the staff.
“Don’t worry, noona,” Keonho says in the smoothest tone he can manage, even though his pulse is violently hammering. “Seonghyeon’s fine. I just had to adjust, uh, this part.”
He gestures vaguely toward the mic pack, despite the fact that his hand is nowhere near it. It is very much still on Seonghyeon’s hip like it’s made it’s place there, and Keonho realises how bad it looks.
The stylist nods, nonetheless, and moves on, much to Keonho’s relief.
And as soon as she’s out of sight—
Seonghyeon whips around.
Not fully, because Keonho’s hand is still holding him in place, fingers curved around the dip of his hipbone. But it’s still cute in his eyes because Seonghyeon’s ears are flushed to the maximum.
“Are you insane?” Seonghyeon hisses, eyes wide, cheeks burning. “You can’t just— you can’t do that!”
“What the hell do you want me to do? You were about to expose it!” Keonho fires back, whisper-shouting, stepping closer until he can feel Seonghyeon’s body heat.
“It wasn’t even exposed.” Seonghyeon says, exasperated.
“It was going to be.” Keonho says matter of factly.
“It wasn’t—”
“Seonghyeon, I saw the top curve of it! That’s basically full nudity!”
“It’s my hip, Keonho!”
“Yeah, but it’s your hip with the mark.”
Seonghyeon drags a hand down his face, groaning. “You’re being so dramatic.”
“I’m being honorable,” Keonho counters, puffing his chest with vigour. “I’m protecting your purity.”
“For the wrong reasons, clearly,” Seonghyeon mumbles, hand wrapped tight around Keonho’s wrist. “Let go of my hip.”
“...No.”
Keonho’s fingers are splayed instinctively over the soulmate mark, and another pulse gives again. Soft, warm, and intimate it makes his heart fuzzy. Seonghyeon’s body stiffens as if someone just activated his fight-or-flight.
A broken noise escapes Seonghyeon’s lips, and Keonho fucking grins like the maniac he is.
“It likes me so much, huh?” Keonho says it like a statement rather than a question, and Seonghyeon nearly cries at how warm he is feeling right now. As if there are ten bonfires surrounding him.
“Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”
“Are you just going to insult me all day while I touch your soulmate mark?”
“If it gets you to let go of it, sure.”
“Well, not to break your bubble but I–”
Then a stage manager shouts, “STANDBY!” and both boys jerk, jumping away from each other like they’ve contracted a disease. Keonho reluctantly, tragically, removes his hand away from Seonghyeon’s hip, and the boy exhales like he just got released from hostage.
But the soulmate mark? It keeps glowing underneath Seonghyeon’s shirt, betraying him loud and clear.
Keonho narrows his eyes at it.
“How long does it take to go back to normal?”
Seonghyeon shrugs. “Probably a few minutes.”
He points at it accusingly. “You, behave.”
“You’re talking to my skin?”
“Well, maybe your skin should stop flirting with me then!”
After hearing that, Seonghyeon nearly trips over an amplifier, laughing, which quickly became Keonho’s highlight of the day. For obvious reasons.
Over the next few days, instances like that kept happening even more. Same flustered expression on Seonghyeon’s face, the familiar jolt when Keonho touches the soulmate mark, and the immediate satisfaction when he does.
Now however, he’s in bed, face smushed into his pillow, kicking his feet like a distressed Victorian maiden. God, he has multiple problems. He really needs to be locked down, his hands chained up, because he feels like he’s lulled into attraction each time he sees Seonghyeon’s exposed skin bearing his soulmate mark.
“Oh my god,” Keonho whispers into the cotton. “I am such a freak.”
He rolls over violently, grabs his pillow, and hides his face under it. And the worst thing is that Seonghyeon didn’t even react today. No reaction whatsoever. Which means one thing: his boyfriend’s used to him touching his soulmate mark like it’s his own. Keonho has normalised touching it to the point even Eom Seonghyeon treats it like a greeting, melting into Keonho’s arms like ice cream.
Fuck.
Thoughts rush in his mind like a meteor shower, and it’s only interrupted when a soft knock comes from behind the closed door of the room.
Keonho freezes.
He knows that knock. He’d know it in his sleep, even.
“Keonho?” It’s Seonghyeon’s voice. Tired, gentle, just as Keonho has always known him to be. “You still awake?”
The door clicks open, and Keonho doesn’t even bother moving the pillow off his face. He gives a small grunt in response to Seonghyeon’s words.
He can hear the amusement in his soulmate’s voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Keonho lies through his teeth, voice muffled beneath the pillow. His hands sit stiffly beside him, so they don’t betray him and grab Seonghyeon’s waist and pull him down to touch his soulmate mark again. As long as he doesn’t see Seonghyeon, he can resist the temptation.
His pain fails horribly when the pillow is lifted off his face, and he winces slightly at the bright light that enters his eyes immediately.
“I’m great, by the way. You can leave.” Keonho says, eyes closing.
“I sleep in this room, by the way. I don’t think I can leave.” Seonghyeon replies back, amused. “Can you sit up for me?”
Keonho’s eyes open then, surprised. “What? Why?”
“Just— sit up and turn around.”
“Huh?”
“I’m cold,” Seonghyeon says simply. “I want a hug.”
Keonho feels his soul leaving his body even though it complies entirely with Seonghyeon’s words. He slowly—painfully—sits up and turns around. He watches with anticipation as Seonghyeon climbs onto the bed, settles between his legs, and leans back against his chest like this is normal.
It should be since they’re a couple, but Keonho is taken aback nonetheless.
His arms instinctively wrap around Seonghyeon’s waist.
And, of course—just fucking of course—his hand lands exactly on the soulmate mark.
Yet Seonghyeon hums. He isn’t startled, flustered— not one bit. Not even reacting beyond that tiny, warm sound that escapes his lips every time Keonho’s fingers trace the lines of the mark.
Almost as if Seonghyeon has been waiting for it, craving for it.
Keonho’s brain short-circuits.
“...Are you doing this on purpose?” he whispers, low.
“I’m not,” Seonghyeon huffs a laugh, smiling. “I just knew you’d touch it.”
Keonho goes absolutely still.
He swallows hard, thinking. “...Is that a problem?”
“No,” Seonghyeon says immediately, and the speed of it makes Keonho’s heart stumble. “It–uh, helps me sleep actually.”
Keonho blinks at the back of Seonghyeon’s head, not believing what he just heard.
Helps him sleep.
Helps him sleep??
Meanwhile Keonho has been pouncing onto Seonghyeon every single day like he’s a touch-starved gremlin, and his soulmate is admitting that his touch helps him sleep?
He frowns. “...Are you lying.”
Seonghyeon snorts. “No, I’m being sarcastic,” He rolls his eyes, “Yes, I’m being serious, Keonho.”
He feels Seonghyeon relax fully against him, head tucked neatly beneath his chin, breathing slow and steady, warm. Too warm it’s making Keonho nervous and hot. And it’s warm enough that Keonho feels like he’s hugging the human embodiment of sunlight.
“You could’ve just asked if you had trouble sleeping,” Keonho whispers before he can stop himself. It comes out tiny, ruined, vulnerable, and in return, Seonghyeon laughs softly. The sound blooms in his chest like an ache.
“I thought you liked deciding on your own more,” Seonghyeon murmurs. “You always touch it before I can even say anything.”
“That’s—!” Keonho’s face goes hot instantly, because he knows he’s guilty for that.
“You don’t even realise you’re doing it most of the time, which is the funniest part.”
“Are you seriously making fun of me right now?”
“I can’t help it! You’re too funny,” Seonghyeon laughs, shifting slightly, and the movement makes Keonho’s hand brush deeper into the mark. It pulses again, soft and warm, like it recognises his touch.
Does touching a star feel like this?
Keonho wants to sink into the mattress and die happily.
He bites back a whine, forehead dropping helplessly onto Seonghyeon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If it’s annoying, I can—”
“Keonho,” Seonghyeon says his name like a prayer, and everything in Keonho’s body stops functioning for a hot minute. He reaches down, finds Keonho’s hand, and guides it slowly back over the soulmate mark.
Keonho stops breathing.
Seonghyeon’s gentle voice comes. “It’s not annoying.”
He keeps guiding their joined hands until Keonho’s palm rests flush against the mark, fingers fitting perfectly to it’s curve. And when he lets go, leaving Keonho’s hand there on it’s own like it’s his rightful place, the soulmate mark pulses once more, deep and warm.
Soft, steady, like it’s saying welcome back.
Seonghyeon leans into him even more, voice barely above a whisper. “It feels… nice. Because it’s you, you know?”
Keonho’s arms curl tighter around Seonghyeon, holding him carefully and reverently, like he’s made of Earth’s most precious gems. He presses his nose into the boy’s hair, breathing in the warmth there.
“...Cheesy Eom Seonghyeon.”
Seonghyeon giggles, tilting his head up to stare at Keonho with the warmest eyes he has ever seen. “I’m being serious! I feel safe when you touch it.”
He doesn’t know it, but those words destroy Keonho a little. He hides his face against Seonghyeon’s shoulder, voice embarrassingly soft.
“Okay. Then I’ll… keep doing it. If you want!”
“I do, idiot,” Seonghyeon’s fingers lace with his, gentle. “I always do.”
Keonho gives in then, finally letting himself trace the mark with slow, featherlight motions. And Eom Seonghyeon melts like warm honey in his arms.
“Oh, and by the way, Martin-hyung told me he liked Juhoon-hyung yesterday.” Seonghyeon abruptly says out of nowhere.
Keonho feels his jaw drop. “He— what?!”
“Yeah, isn’t that crazy? And he was telling me there was no way Juhoon-hyung would like him back.”
“Oh, but I overheard Juhoon-hyung talking to James-hyung that he likes Martin-hyung.”
Seonghyeon goes silent for a hot minute.
“God, they’re both idiots.”
Keonho snorts. “I wonder when they’ll get their soulmate marks.” He pauses at the unknown glint in Seonghyeon’s eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Where’s your soulmate mark, huh? You’ve been harassing mine for days, why haven’t I seen yours?”
“...You never asked.”
Seonghyeon sits up, a grin on his face. “Let me see it, then!”
“No! Wait, I need a moment to prepare myself—”
Seonghyeon lunges at him, and Keonho dissolves into giggles.
His hand remains on Seonghyeon’s hip, the soulmate mark pulsing under his palm, like it’s smiling too.