guys my age | yuta/taeyong

kiss my fruit punch lips (in the bright sunshine)

Taeyong wakes in an unfamiliar bed. He forgets where he is for a second, still half asleep, and then he realizes the arms around him belong to Yuta, and he relaxes back into the pillow. Yuta is still asleep, breathing soft and steady.

He'd been too exhausted the night before to do much thinking, but now he's rested and working his way up to full brain capacity. With it comes a flood of anxiety. It's not that he wishes he hadn't done it, he's just worried. What if Yuta did? What if he drives him home in tense silence and then they never talk again? Or, somehow just as bad, what if Yuta likes him and they keep doing this all summer, only to have to say goodbye come the end of August? What would his friends think if they found out? Or, god forbid, his parents? His heart thuds in his chest at the thought. They'd never let him out of their sight again.

Yuta shifts beside him, like he can tell Taeyong's distressed, smoothing a hand down his back as he blinks his eyes open. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hey," Taeyong whispers back, bottom lip trembling a little.

"You alright? You look a little stressed for—" Yuta cranes his neck around to check the clock "—half past ten in the morning."

Taeyong huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah, 'm just—thinking."

"I'm assuming some of these thoughts are about me," Yuta says with a crooked smile. "Well, why don't we get up and have some breakfast, and think together?"

Taeyong nods, following Yuta out of the warm comfort of the blankets and down the stairs. The t-shirt Yuta gave him is so long it reaches Taeyong's mid-thigh, but he's still quite aware of his pantslessness as he watches Yuta in front of him, in a full set of black pajamas.

Yuta sets the kettle to boil, and opens the fridge. "Leftover stew okay with you?" he asks, and Taeyong hums in agreement, sitting down at the table. Yuta sets the pot on the stove, and then turns around, leaning back on the counter, and appraises Taeyong. "So," he says. "What were you thinking about?"

Taeyong picks a little at his cuticles, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplates where to begin. "I think," he says. "I think it's just the basic anxiety that comes with a new, um, getting involved with a new person. Plus, well, we're not exactly conventional. It's not your fault. It's just hard."

"I see," Yuta says, nodding. "Anything I can do to make it a little easier?"

Taeyong shrugs. "I mean, my main fear is getting found out, I guess. But I also don't want—I don't want to stop, either."

Yuta smiles kindly, leaning back a little to check on the stew. "Well, we seem to be in the same place there, then." He looks back at Taeyong. "We'll let each other know if anything changes. For now, we'll just do our best with what we have, yeah?"

Taeyong nods. "Yeah. What about—what about the end of summer, though?"

Yuta brings the pot to the table with a sigh. "I hate to be like this, but it's pretty far off, and we have no way of knowing what will happen between now and then."

"Just worried about it, that's all," Taeyong mumbles as Yuta dishes him out a serving of stew. "I don't want it to all just—end. Wouldn't that mean it would be for nothing?"

Yuta hums. "First of all, we don't have to stop talking once the summer is over if you don't want to. We'll see where we are, right? And even if we do, it's not for nothing." He looks up at Taeyong through his bangs. "I'm having fun, and I think you are too. It's not nothing."

"I guess so," Taeyong acquiesces. It's not the perfect answer, but, he realizes as he digs into the soup, there's not really a perfect answer to be had. But it's good enough, and he does feel more at ease.