ADONIS. － k.ji + d.ks

°eight°

Speak low if you speak love.

✾≠✾

The night of the performance drew nearer and nearer, and like the swaying of a pendulum in motion, so was Jongin's constant pacing.

"Kyungsoo," he whined, when the other kept chuckling at him and sketching some of the man's features upon his own copy of the script － which he ended up making since aiding Jongin with practicing his lines became common.

"C-Could you please focus?"

The one in question slid a palm down his mouth in attempts of wiping away his amused smile, but it did nothing to change the fact that he was obviously suppressing a grin.

"Right, right," he said, fitting the pencil behind his ear and shuffling onto his feet, boot buckles clinking against the planks of wood.

"Where were we?"

Jongin sighed, carded a hand through his lush hair and strode towards the artist, whose eyes followed his every move like a fox would watch its prey through shards of grass.

"Here," the taller mumbled, index finger setting upon the paper and pointing at Kyungsoo's lines.

"This pa-part."

"Alright," he cleared his throat, reading it over once while Jongin set space between them, preparing to get into his role.

"Infirm of purpose. Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead －"

"Kyu-Kyungsoo," Jongin interrupted, a pout on his rose gold lips, "Could you do i-it with a bit more. . . emotion?"

The man shrugged, gesturing to the actor with his script.

"Show me."

Jongin shifted on his feet, ears slightly blooming red as he gave a timid nod, staring down at his own papers even though he knew the lines like one knows how to spell their own name.

"Infirm of p-purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the de-dead are but pictures.
'Tis the eye of childhood that f-fears a painted devil."

He breathed deeply, shakily, for the gaze upon his skin felt like a burn that kissed his every nerve, and he rose his irises but averted them from meeting the pair staring at him fondly.

"Something li-like that."

"You're beautiful."

The words settled in the air, whispered but carried across the dimly lit stage, yet not reaching the rows of profoundly shadowed seats, which grew into pure blackness the further they were from the three lights.

"I-I. . ."

Jongin's response remained trapped in his throat, his head dropping low as if it would hide the vibrant fuchsia on his tan cheeks.

Kyungsoo's lips turned upwards, warmth spreading in his chest and an abrupt urge causing him to walk to Jongin until their chests brushed, a hair incapable of passing amidst them.

Jongin tentatively rose his chin, wide eyes mimicking the expression of a deer caught in headlights, but a longing glinting in their endless brown.

Soft lips met one cheek and then the other, a sharp inhale and silent exhales fanning upon both faces.

Kyungsoo stood on his toes and nudged the tip of his nose against Jongin's, a smile on his mouth which the taller returned, bashfully.

"Don't be so tense, Jongin. The performance will go well, I assure you."

And, like magic, the actor's muscles melted free of their strained positions, his shoulders drooped and his grin turned lax.

Kyungsoo held a power over his body, heart and mind, and such a fact could be daunting and make some worry, but Jongin didn't care.

He trusted Kyungsoo.

✾≠✾

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hanks for reading