tysonbailey

[tysonbailey]

Tyson is sure that he must be red as a beet, but the warm blossom in his chest is too pleasant to let go of, so he holds it there, accepting the positive words even if he isn't sure of how to respond. He can only squeeze a silent thank you into Kizumi's hand.

"Hopefully they've got something you like." Tyson says, leaning in closer so he doesn't have to scream to be heard above the din of the crowd, "There's like five restaurants on every block around here so even if we don't end up getting that I'm sure we'll find something nearby."

He doesn't mind the idea of wandering around a bit, the two of them. It actually sounds quite nice.

"Kiki..." Tyson whines. He can only whine, but he is happy to have his height as another subject to pivot away from the compliments, "How tall did you think I was? It's kind of funny, because like, yeah I'm tall in America, but I never really felt like some freak of nature until I moved here. Here I'm like...sort of incompatible with the architecture."

"I.. I think you are. Promise." He knows how Tyson feels about his body, and he simply can't understand it. In his eyes, Tyson is the hottest man he'd ever seen. Sure, he's not the typical ideal body type of that Korean women seem to go for, but Kizumi found nothing hotter than a man with some meat on his bones. Tyson's warm, and feels so much nicer to hug than anyone he'd ever hugged before.

He's somewhat stunned when Tyson thoughtfully suggest malatang, purposefully so Kizumi can pick the ingredients. It's so simple, and easy, and yet it means so much to him that Tyson had thought about how he might have some issues with certain foods. They'd talked about it in the past, but Kizumi hadn't expected Tyson to really remember. "I.. I'd really like that, actually." And it takes all his self-control not to reach out and slip his hand right under Tyson's shirt to feel his soft fluff himself.

"Thank you..." He doesn't go into what for; he doesn't want to bring too much attention to his differences when he just wants to be as desirable as possible to Tyson. He'd be a filthy liar if he said he hadn't had a crush on Tyson since the moment they first met. Meeting in person is thrilling in more ways that one, since part of Kizumi still held onto some hope that perhaps Tyson could someday feel something for him in that way. "You look even better than you do on screen. You're taller than I expected, too."

[tysonbailey]

Tyson almost wants to ask Kizumi to promise him, to promise that it won't be another two years before they're next able to hang out, but he doesn't want to seem like a crazy person, so he opts to believe that Kizumi means it, for now.

Then Kizumi starts complimenting him, and he feels himself flush hot, gooseflesh raising little bumps across his upper back and his arms, and he sputters, almost desperate to get it to stop.

"Oh God, cut it out. I...I'm not." he says, a little panicked by how intense that praise had landed in his mind; he knows he isn't ugly, he's just...broken in a very particular way where compliments of the sort were almost overstimulating, sparking a lot of noise in the back of his mind that he didn't know how to quiet.

"Thank you." he adds quickly, not wanting to come across as rude.

"And I figured we could do malatang, or something? That way you can kind of pick and choose what you want. I don't know exactly what your tastes are?" he says, squeezing Kizumi's dainty, pale little hand in his own as they make their way toward the exit. "There's a place near here actually that I kind of eat at a lot. Maybe too often."

And he uses his spare hand to squeeze at the layer of softness that enrobed his lower belly, to indicate that its cause was the malatang.

In a way, Kizumi had always assumed things wouldn't be as good in person. That he'd somehow ruin it by being awkward or stiff, and yet it just feels... largely the same. There's an overwhelming excitement, and the addition of this pressure Kizumi's quickly growing rather addicted to, but it feels comfortable. "It won't take that long again. I promise." And he means it. Now that he's gotten a taste of Tyson, he thinks it would take an entire army to keep him away for any great length of time. Even as his cheeks are squished, and he's forced to look Tyson in the eyes, he doesn't flinch away, or even avert his gaze. It feels strange, looking into his eyes, and he can't hold it for too long, but he got a good hard look at his eyes, enough to remember them distinctly. More than he could say for a few of his groupmates, that's for sure.

"You are too... Though 'cute' maybe isn't the right word... You're pretty, and handsome. I didn't know what was possible." Tyson looks unlike anyone else (apart from perhaps his sister, who he looked a hell of a lot like). He's big and broad and soft, with a chiseled nose and fluttery lashes. "I'm just... wow." It's hard to think of words to put to the feelings filling every inch of him. He's fizzing, and bubbling, and fluttering, chest swelling until he feels a pressure that threatens to explode out of him.

"Come on, before people start noticing us." As much as he'd like to stay there hugging and staring at each other's faces, he steps away and reaches for Tyson's hand instead, tugging him a couple steps in one direction before stopping and looking up at him. "Did you want to go somewhere in particular? I know we said we'd get food but... what do you want to eat?"

[tysonbailey]

Tyson feels a warm serenity flood him, and it compels him to squeeze Kizumi even tighter, although he's careful to ensure that he doesn't pop.

"I'm real." he confirms, his voice unusually gentle.

He had been certain, in his eternally pessimistic worrywart way, that things would feel weird in person, somehow, that the wavelength they were on that allowed them to connect as they had was virtual, that there'd be a barrier between them in person. But that didn't seem to be the case, even seconds into having met; Kizumi felt so easy in his arms, and the words he'd longed to speak to him flowed with no hesitation.

For a moment, the sad pessimist within him rears its ugly head and he wonders how long it will take them to meet up again once this day comes to a close, but he's able to wield the happiness he feels in the moment as a weapon to swat those thoughts away.

"Me too. It took us long enough to get here, didn't it?" he says with a chuckle, not wanting to pull away, but wanting to get a better look at Kizumi's face, which he can't help but clutch like the face of a baby, although he does let go, not wanting to push any physical boundaries. "You're even cuter in person. What the hell."

It had always been easier for Kizumi to befriend people online. That degree of separation, where he had the time to think about his responses, and didn't have to maintain a mask of normalcy throughout the interaction made it much less daunting. He could speak more freely, and express himself more openly, and people seemed much more accepting of him and his uniqueness online. At school, he'd been the odd one out. Not altogether disliked, but not really anyone's closest friend. He was considered strange, but not unlikable at least. But, the thing about friends in general, was that you had to maintain the relationship like a plant; regularly water it, feed it, and nourish it, or else it might wither, and altogether die if left untouched for too long.

Yet, there was one friendship that he survived the test of time, though in part thanks to Kizumi favouring the relationship significantly more than any other he had. His friendship with Tyson had been, at the time Kizumi was signed, rather delicate, and yet he'd clung onto it for dear life, terrified of losing out on a relationship with a boy he'd grown quickly attached to. It had been a long time since then, and despite a few quiet periods in which Kizumi was so busy with work he'd end up going days without responding to messages, they'd talked pretty consistently. Tyson knew about things Kizumi had barely even talked to his groupmates about, and they were people he saw every single day, and lived with.

So, needless to say, when he finally gets the chance to meet Tyson, he jumps at it. It's only after arranging it, settling on a time and place, that Kizumi finds himself scared out of his mind that somehow it'll ruin their relationship. What if he freezes up? Or isn't entirely himself? What if that wall he always feels separating him from other people flies up between him and Tyson, and he can't climb over it? There isn't a single person he wants to grow closer to than Tyson, and so there's an awful lot riding on this first meeting. Which is why he goes to so much effort to make himself look good. He fluffs his hair, and dons one of his favourite oufits—a pink fleece sweater and straight leg jeans—and only just manages to stop short of putting on a little makeup.

They'd tried this before; meeting up. Something had always come up, but today remains entirely free, and Kizumi makes the journey to their meeting point with his fuzzy little Apeach keyring clutched in his hands, squeezing his anxieties out into it until he arrives and he lets it swing from his belt loop once more. He peers around like a startled deer, wandering out of the station and hoping Tyson isn't too hard to spot, when he finally sees him, and their eyes meet, and Kizumi, without realising it, bursts into the widest smile to split his face in two in a long time.

Before he can say anything, Tyson had closed to the gap between them and wrapped him into a tight, warm hug, and the steady pressure instantly has Kizumi leaning into him, his own hands locking behind Tyson's back. "Woah... You're actually real," he gasps into his shoulder, not wanting to let go because this is his best friend, and he's able to smell him for the first time; he smells fresh, in that way that clear, green air smells, mixed with something manly and comforting. Kizumi's carried back to a vacation he went on with his family when he was little, too little to really remember where it was, but big enough to paddle his feet in a freezing cold stream and collect pine needles from the forest floor because he liked how they smelled. Tyson's hair tickles his temple, and instinctively Kizumi turns his nose into the side of his neck, inhaling, then breathing out against his skin. "I'm really... happy."

[tysonbailey]

sweet tooth a starter for @kizumisato 1200hrs hongdae

Tyson and Kizumi had been friends for a while now but they were only just meeting today, in person. It's sort of strange, really; Tyson felt as though Kizumi knew a lot more about him than a good ninety percent of the other people in his life did, by virtue of a strange phenomenon Tyson had noticed wherein he divulged his deepest of psychic wounds to his online buddies after about an hour of acquaintance the likes of which he'd forever conceal from those he knew in person.

Kizumi knew about Tyson's asshole of a father, his strained relationship with his sister, his body image issues, which was especially humiliating. All of that and yet Tyson would be genuinely surprised if Kizumi could name his favourite colour.

They'd intended to meet up a number of times before but their previous plans had been waylaid time and time again on account of the fact that several months into their knowing one another, Kizumi had decided to become a pop star, or something.

One more and this would officially be a pattern with the people who existed in the periphery of his life.

Finally he sees him round the corner and for a moment he feels a bit dizzy as his worlds collide and merge, the face on the screen suddenly one of flesh and bone and blood before him.

He half-jogs up to him and wraps his arms around him in a great big bear hug, on the edge of emotional enough to shed a tear.

"Oh my god..." he says, struck by how small and dainty Kizumi feels in his arms, "Oh my god, hello."

[tysonbailey]

he's just a cutie patootie 😗🫳🏼

[tysonbailey]

Tyson isn't a shy person, not in the ways that most often assumed he was, at least, but he finds his jaw glued firmly shut the second he arrives at his aunt's house to find that his sister was already there.

He knows he's making things awkward because he can read the confusion in his aunt's eyes when he isn't his usual boisterous, or perhaps slightly obnoxious, self; he's just not sure of how to approach this whole thing.

There is both a preponderance of feelings, most of them hurt, but also a sort of void of emotion, a combination that sounds as thought its components must be mutually exclusive yet one that manages to exist just fine in Tyson's heart. He knows it's not her fault, but there's something about the distance between them that stings a little, especially because he assumes, much like their parents, that she's embarrassed by her relation to him. At the same time, they just don't really know one another. Their relationship is functionally non-existent.

He's just unsure of how to treat her, this person he should know that he doesn't know that he wants to know but also doesn't want to presume he can know.

He's not shy, but he hates this sort of unsteady social ground; it deadens the connections in his brain.

"Um...yeah, it's good? Still trying to get used to...to here, I guess." he says, wondering if any of what he just said could be arranged into a statement of meaning or if he was truly just vomiting words, "How about you? What's it like being like, internationally famous?"

[ 𝑺𝑬𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑳 ]

𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, Seoul, SK Feb 10th (Seollal), 2024 w. 𝐓𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

When Barbie was a child, they hadn't celebrated Seollal. Despite her mother being very proudly Korean, somehow she'd let go of a lot of Korean traditions upon moving to America. It wasn't until Barbie moved to Seoul that she'd experienced a proper Chuseok and Seollal, and she'd found little to complain about at first. She'd never been one to enjoy holidays, since it meant an awkward sit-down dinner with the family, wherein she had to answer questions about her life in Paris, and figure out how to answer the question 'But don't you miss your family?' with something other than 'Not really'. She hated the Christmas music they played in stores, and the only good part was the fairy lights strung up in the trees, and the seasonal snacks and coffees. Even now, thousands of miles away from the orignal source of her holiday-anguish, she finds herself invited to yet another awkward sit-down family dinner. This time, it's with her aunt and brother. She almost declines, prepared to mak up some excuse about being busy at work, but she can't help but feel guilty. She isn't entirely heartless, after all.

It's a Saturday night, and she'd spent a good few hours getting ready. She didn't need to, it wasn't like she couldn't put together a stunning outfit and makeup look in less than half an hour these days, but she'd decided to treat herself to a laidback pampering session. She was going to need it to get through the night. There wasn't anything particularly wrong with her aunt. In fact, she'd taken Barbie in when her ballet career had ended and she'd been directionless for a while. She hadn't coddled her, or smothered her, or pitied her, and Barbie was forever grateful for that. She hated feeling pitied. But Tyson... Well, he and Barbie were nothing alike, and while she didn't dislike him, she had to silently admit to herself that she was terrified of people finding out what her brother was like. It would ruin her image entirely.

But, she hadn't seen him in many months, and the last time they'd talked what when he'd sent her a birthday text message, and she'd sent back a rather brief message thanking him. In all honesty, she didn't like to think about her broken relatinship with him. It made something uncomfortable squirm in her belly. A feeling she most certainly didn't want to spend a prolonged amount of time studying. He looks older than when she last saw him, or perhaps she'd simply forgotten how much he'd grown, and changed in the past few years. It was hard to keep up when she saw him so little. "So... How's life?" She asks, cringing inwardly. While their aunt finishes up cooking and bringing dishes to the table, Barbie and Tyson set out plates and chopsticks, glasses and a jug of water, along with the bottle of wine Barbie had brought as a present for her aunt, though she'd insisted they all enjoy it together. Barbie didn't have to know Tyson well to guess that wine probably wasn't his drink of choice.