Blue {DoTae} | complete

Eighteen: I had no dream maybe

TW: discussion of dieting and weight. Please be careful if any of these things could be uncomfy for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time the sun has fully emerged, Doyoung's cheeks itch with dried tears and his knees nearly buckle and give up when their feet land back on the grass.

"Steady." Taeyong warns him, arms flying out to catch the younger before he can fall.

Doyoung is so exhausted, but so pumped full of adrenaline that he wants to sprint an entire marathon before passing out into a deep sleep. He catches Taeyong side-eyeing him. The idol folds his arms across his chest as they walk, not making conversation even though it was his idea to camp out in his studio for the rest of the day, and Doyoung gets the impression he's just submerged in his thoughts. Doyoung can barely contemplate every sharp turn his life has taken in the past twenty-four hours, so it's no surprise that Taeyong's expression is distant while also seeming as though he's always about to speak, the words fizzling on the tip of his tongue but never quite making it to the air.

Their manic laughter attack zapped every last drop of energy from their bodies but has left Doyoung with the burning desire to face the world and just live. Live life to the fullest, do everything, see everything. With Taeyong, of course. He doesn't think he'd have the confidence to do it all without him. So, when Taeyong lightly nudges his shoulder to guide him across the road, he follows.

"It's nearly seven. The building should be open." Taeyong murmurs. His eyes dart around to focus on every other pedestrian, paranoid of being spotted while his guard is down, and Doyoung had almost forgotten that he's a celebrity until he's pulled into an alleyway.

"What?" Doyoung hisses. His heart rate spikes from an exhilarating combination of confusion, fear, and the fact that Taeyong's body is pressed up against his to keep them both hidden behind a row of recycling bins.

"She has a camera." Taeyong mutters. Doyoung is about to lean to take a look at the teenager who passes by, before realising that's a stupid idea and he curls back up against the elder again.

They wait a couple of minutes, then Taeyong gives them the clear to move and they continue down the street. Doyoung's eyes keep falling to the idol's hand that lightly brushes against his own with every other step they take. His knuckles are tainted red where the skin is raw from being scrubbed at, cleaned again and again, and Doyoung has to force himself to focus on the street ahead of them to distract his instincts from linking their fingers. The SM building is approaching. As they draw closer, Taeyong's head lowers and his pace increases. Doyoung's breath is raspy when he's practically running to keep up with the man.

Instead of going in through the main entrance, which looks even fancier and shinier in full daylight, Taeyong leads the way down a path round the back of the building. They reach a small courtyard with a single tree in the middle. A man dressed in all black looking rather bored leans against it, then suddenly perks up at the sight of the pair.

"Can I go in?" Taeyong asks in a low voice. Doyoung smooths out his frown, realising that he's only a security guard and they're not here to do some strange deal. His hand mindlessly intertwines in his hair to tug on the strands, not quite hard enough to rip any out, while the idol tries to convince the man for permission to enter.

"I thought you were on hiatus?" The guard says. His bushy eyebrows rise up his forehead. Taeyong curses.

"How does word even get around that quickly?" The idol shakes his head and taps his foot on the concrete path.

"The statement's already been posted. The whole world knows." The guard shrugs. Taeyong lifts his head up, finally looking him in the eyes, and Doyoung's hand comes away with four strands of hair knotted around his fingers, the faint tingling of pain residing in his scalp.