please remain calm, the end has arrived

“It’s an American tradition for graduation, they’re called cords. Like if you’ve graduated cum laude, or magna cum laude, they’ll give you these. I just thought they looked cute,” Doyoung notes primly. He tugs on them repeatedly, making sure they’re still hanging evenly.

“They look really nice,” Taeyong says, smiling. “You should’ve told me you were getting them, I would’ve gotten some too.”

“No way. Find your own graduation fashion statement.”

He continues fiddling with Doyoung’s cords. They’re glossy, they look nice against the black of their graduation gowns. “Psh. Some kind of boyfriend you are.”

Doyoung tips his head back, groaning in satisfaction. “Oh my god, thank you for reminding me. I need to go tell Donghyuck to suck it. He predicted we’d break up before graduation.”

“He’s just being playful when he says things like that.”

“I’m still going to tell him to go suck a bag of dicks. Once is being playful. He predicted it five times.” Doyoung scans the crowd. “Where did he go? He was here just a minute ago.”

“Oh, um. I think he went to call Mark.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Going long distance with the exchange student, how predictable.”

“Don’t be like that,” Taeyong says, tenderly tucking some of Doyoung’s hair behind his ear. Doyoung is rarely this catty, unless he’s dying with nerves. “They’re in love. It’s cute.”

Doyoung pouts. “It’s not cute. Do you know how many times I caught them sucking face? They’re disgusting.”

“You can tell him they’ll break up before graduation. Would that make you feel better?”

Doyoung’s face lights up with glee at the prospect. “It would, actually.”

Taeyong laughs and wants to kiss him, but they’re in public, so he doesn’t.

They get their pictures taken with their degrees, accompanied by loud cooing from Donghyuck and the tinny sound of Mark’s voice through Donghyuck’s phone.

While Doyoung is arranging his family members for the family portrait, Taeyong’s mom fusses with his hair and tells him: “You graduated. Finally.”

“Eomma, don’t be like that,” Taeyong whines, pushing her hand away. “I’m only a year late.”

“Only a year?” she asks, voice pinched, “employers care about stuff like that.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “No, they don’t.”

“The good ones do.”

“I’ll be fine. Go find appa, I want a family portrait too.”

She looks around sharply. “What do you mean, go find him? He was just here.” She lets out a puff of air, resigned to the wandering habit of her husband. “Can’t let that man out of my sight for even a second. How much do you want to bet that he’s sneaking a cigarette somewhere.”

Taeyong smiles at her. “I know you also sneak a cigarette sometimes.”

His mother’s eyes go round with affront. “I do not!”

“Okay~” Taeyong sings playfully, barely hiding his disbelief.

The pictures get taken, and framed, and go up on the walls of several homes. The one of Taeyong and Doyoung posing side by side goes up on the wall of the small Gangnam apartment they get together, the one they can only afford thanks to the help of their parents.

“Thank you for getting me the job.”

“Of course,” Doyoung says smoothly, grabbing Taeyong’s ankle and giving it a little squeeze. They’re watching some horrible variety show, the coffee table littered with the remnants of the dinner Taeyong cooked. Taeyong has his legs on Doyoung’s lap.

“My mom was giving me a really hard time about me quitting my last job, and,” Taeyong grimaces, “I don’t know, I just wanted her off my back.”

Doyoung smiles at him. “Honey, seriously. Don’t mention it. We had the perfect position open for you, and it’s going to be great, working together. I think you’ll really like the project manager, she’s brilliant.”

“What was her name again?”

“Na Jamin.”

Taeyong stares at the television screen. “Unusual name.”

“Well, she’s an unusual woman.”

“Do you have any asshole colleagues?”

“Yes, all of them,” Doyoung replies automatically.

“Stop trying to be funny,” Taeyong complains, wriggling his feet, “I’m nervous about my first day, give me a real answer.”

“I don’t know, they’re just colleagues. If they do their jobs well, then I’m satisfied. If they don’t, then I report them.”

Taeyong sucks his teeth. “You do not report them. Tell me the truth.”

Doyoung’s eyes twinkle. “I report them in my head.”

“Doesn’t Donghyuck work in your department too now? My mom said his mom told her.” Donghyuck could just have told him this directly, but Donghyuck likes being cagey for no reason.

“Ugh, him.” Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I might actually report that guy. I’ve caught him coming in late twice now, and he’s always wandering up to our floor, trying to make small talk by the water cooler. They have a water cooler on every floor, you know. He doesn’t need to waste time, not to mention the company’s energy, taking the elevator up and down like ten times a day.”

“He probably just wants to talk to you,” Taeyong says in a mollifying tone. As much as they’d been like cats and dogs at college, Taeyong knows Donghyuck secretly looks up to Doyoung. Hardworking, pretty Doyoung. Who wouldn’t develop a little crush on him?

Actually, Taeyong never really had a crush on his boyfriend. Doyoung had simply been persistent and charming, and he was Taeyong’s best friend. And they were both queer, in a sea of straight people. It made perfect sense for them to end up together.

His mother has never explicitly acknowledged their relationship, but if she ever did, he knows she’d approve that it’s Doyoung, the actual embodiment of a mom’s friend’s son. If her son has to be gay, at least he’s being gay with a good son from a good family. Not a firstborn, but then neither is Taeyong.

“You’re not going to start lording your seniority over me, are you?”

Doyoung has been working with his company for four years now, because he got hired straight out of college and had stuck with them ever since. Taeyong feels very proud of his boyfriend’s achievement.

Doyoung laughs at him, reaching out to shove him. “Do you think I’m special to them? I’m a nobody grunt, same as you. We’ll be in the trenches together.”

That makes Taeyong feel a little better.

“Section chief Lee, could you please make sure you send me the focus plan before lunch?”

Taeyong maybe, kind of, wants to scream a little bit. Drafting up a full focus plan takes at least two hours. And it’s one hour until lunch. Even the name is annoying. Focus plan. Another lame, woolly term for a regular data collection sheet, thought up by one of the execs to help improve employee motivation.

She could have asked him this morning. He knows she saw him at his desk, because she stopped by to say hi to Doyoung. But she never asks him in a timely manner. Doyoung says it’s Taeyong’s own fault, for not having them ready before anyone asks for them.

“Of course,” he says evenly.

Na Jamin gives him a serious little nod and walks away from his island-style desk. It’s a three-person desk; he shares it with Doyoung and an ever-revolving intern.

Taeyong listlessly clicks through the in-house software. He set out to do better this time, but he can’t help but feel like this place is another soul-sucking dead end. The kind that has him wondering why he had to get a degree at all. All he does all day is run company data through pre-built tools, and create spreadsheets no one actually reads. At least his colleagues are nicer. But when he’s not pushing papers he’s trying to evade the wrath of his superiors; any time they fuck up, the people on his level are the ones who get thrown under the bus.

It’s just like the job he got a year after graduating, the one he got fired from. And the job after that, the one he ended up quitting... Taeyong’s eyes go glassy for a second, his hand squeezing his mouse.

He lets go of the mouse, blinking as his mind gets back on track. He exhales a frustrated huff of air. Jamin is as bad as any of them. Taeyong has no clue why Doyoung worships her so much. Maybe it’s because they’re both type A personalities.

He barely sees Doyoung during work hours, because his boyfriend is usually following Jamin from meeting to meeting. Taking notes, keeping track of how her ideas are being implemented. Taeyong is part of some of those meetings, but he rarely contributes. It’s not that he doesn’t try, he just can’t stay focused. He doesn’t know how everyone else in the room stays so engaged. He’s in those meetings because he has to be, because if he doesn’t collect a paycheck, he’s going to become homeless, and starve, and die.

He grimaces over his own hyperbole. Doyoung would never let him become homeless. Taeyong looks down at the three million won ring he’s wearing on his left hand. It had been a gift, to celebrate their six year anniversary. Taeyong had made Doyoung an art piece in return. Which had also gone up on the wall, next to their graduation picture.

He looks at the ring often. Doyoung had said it could be an engagement ring, if that’s what Taeyong wanted. And Taeyong had said yes.

So, officially, they’re fiancés now, no longer boyfriends. Or maybe not officially, because they haven’t told anyone and have no legal way to get married. Taeyong wonders sometimes, if he’s only said yes because he knows it’s not an actual commitment to anything. If they stay put, they’re forcibly going to be fiancés for decades to come, maybe for the rest of their lives.

“Hey,” Donghyuck greets him, sitting down on the edge of Taeyong’s desk. He looks as tired as Taeyong feels.

“Hey,” Taeyong replies listlessly. He does feel a little bit cheered up at the sight of Donghyuck. Most days, his visits are the best part of his work day.

“Whatcha up to?”

“Compiling a focus plan for Na Jamin. Also, actively dying.”

“Just send her an old one. That’s what I’ve been doing when my boss asks for one, and literally no one has noticed.” There’s a twinkle in Donghyuck’s eye.

Taeyong smirks at him. “You know I never get away with shit like that.”

“Try it. If she figures it out, just tell her it was a mistake.”

Taeyong grins. He’s not actually going to do as Donghyuck suggests, but it’s fun to think about.

Donghyuck leans in closer, dropping his voice. “If you do it, I can take you down and show you the new intern on our floor.”

“Why would I want to see your intern. We have our own intern.” He points at the empty chair where she usually sits.

“Because mine’s delicious.”

Taeyong quirks a brow at him. “Oh?”

“Tall, dark, mysterious. I want to climb him like a jungle gym.” Donghyuck sighs dreamily.

Taeyong shudders. “Thanks for the gross mental image. You could’ve cost me my breakfast just now.”

“Oh stop whining, you never eat breakfast.”

“Besides, aren’t you seeing someone? I thought, after Mark—”

Donghyuck is kicking his legs back and forth, looking in the direction of Jamin’s office. “Don’t worry about it.”

Taeyong’s program freezes, and he exhales in frustration and mutters why, dragging his hands through his hair. Donghyuck wiggles his brows suggestively.

“Okay, fine! Let me just change the file title on one from last month.”

Instead of stopping by Donghyuck’s floor, they walk down to the nearest subway station and buy a rice ball each.

“Which filling did you get?” Donghyuck asks, leaning into Taeyong’s shoulder to try and read the label.

“Tuna mayonnaise. You?”

“Roe.”

“I don’t know why you like that one so much. That stuff has such a weird after-taste.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted beef but they were out.” He bites into his ball, and grimaces, talking with his mouth full. “Ugh, I hate when they wrap them up while they’re still warm, now the outside tastes like plastic.”

Taeyong pulls the cling film off his and also bites into it, and nods with an expression of disgust. “Same issue.” He eats the rest while chewing as little as possible, grabbing hold of Donghyuck’s hand so he won’t lose him on the busy sidewalk.

“Well, that was a thoroughly underwhelming breakfast,” Donghyuck says, like he’s satisfied by it.

“Another horrible start to a horrible day,” Taeyong agrees cheerfully.

“So what’s the deal with this ring?” Donghyuck asks, lifting up Taeyong’s hand to look at it. “Not your usual style.”

“Oh, um.” Taeyong frowns. He knows he can be straightforward around Donghyuck, who doesn’t really care about societal expectations, or most rules for that matter. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating telling him. “Doyoung asked me to marry him.”

“No shit,” Donghyuck says, his smile widening.

“Yeah,” Taeyong laughs nervously, “it’s kind of soon, isn’t it?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Not really. You two have been dating ages. Heaps of straight couples get married after only two years.”

“Well. I guess it’s a moot point either way. We can’t actually get married.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck acknowledges, looking pensive. “Guess it’s not in the cards for either of us.”

“You could still marry a woman?” Taeyong points out, trying to cheer Donghyuck up. Donghyuck had dated an adorable girl named Taei, right after... or maybe towards the end of his relationship with Mark? Taeyong can’t recall now. Donghyuck’s dating life is usually kind of vague.

“I know. I guess my main issue is that they try to limit us at all. Like, what if I want to marry two people? Why should the government get a say in my personal affairs.”

Taeyong laughs. “Two? That’s crazy.”

“Is it?” Donghyuck asks, voice wistful.

“Yes, of course. Like, where would all of you even sleep.” He knows Donghyuck is joking around, but even just the thought of trying to cram three people into the postage stamp-sized apartment he and Doyoung share makes him feel smothered.

Donghyuck shrugs, and lets go of his hand. They’re almost at their office building. “Hey, I gotta go, I’m running late for a meeting.”

“Be honest: were you already running late for that meeting when we left the building?”

Donghyuck throws him a mischievous little grin. “Maybe.”

“Kay, see you later,” Taeyong responds amicably, and watches Donghyuck jog off. His dark brown hair bounces while he runs, his grey pant suit flaps around his limbs. The suit looks out of place on Donghyuck; he looks like a kid playing at being an adult.

That’s how Taeyong feels too, most days.

Jamin stops him as soon as he exits the elevator on his floor, her hand coming to a rest on his elbow.

“Section chief Lee?”

“Yes?” Taeyong answers, turning towards her and automatically folding himself into the beginning of a bow.

“Great work on the focus plan.” Her expression and tone are flat when she says it. They usually are, but, is she being sarcastic this time? She’s holding a great deal of folders, and is sorting through them.

“Of course,” he says, and can’t keep the little grimace of guilt off his face. This is why he shouldn’t listen to Donghyuck — Donghyuck skirts rules like he was born to do it. Taeyong doesn’t share in that particular skill. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, actually,” Jamin says, like she’s grateful Taeyong gave her an opening, “I was wondering if you’ll join the team for drinks tonight?”

Taeyong blinks nervously. “I’m so sorry team leader, I’m not available tonight.”

Jamin frowns. She clearly wasn’t expecting a refusal. “I see. Okay, that’s no problem. You can come out next time.”

Taeyong doesn’t want to join next time, nor any other time. He doesn’t say that though, just smiles politely. Na Jamin walks away with another stiff little nod, clutching her folders close to her chest.

“Are you okay?” Doyoung asks an hour later, sliding into his desk chair. He rolls it closer, placing his elbow on their desk and leaning his head nearer to Taeyong’s, to give them a semblance of privacy. “Why did our team leader just ask me if you’ve been under the weather?”

Taeyong really doesn’t want to have this conversation again. “I turned her down for team building drinks.”

“You’re skipping again?” Doyoung asks, his expression souring. “Why?”

“I just don’t feel like it,” Taeyong says, keeping his eyes on his screen.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung hisses, “what the hell, you’re making me look bad too. You realise that, right? I’m the one that suggested you for this position.”

A little gnaw of guilt in the pit of his stomach. “Right, but I got hired on my own merit. Am I just always going to be seen as your protégé?”

“Kinda, yeah. You got that interview because I vouched for you. They were put off by how often you’ve changed jobs in the last couple of years.”

Taeyong grits his teeth. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have quit his last job. But the job before that, that hadn’t been his fault. The company downsized, what could he have done to prevent that? He had been the newest hire, and so the first one to be fired. Or so they’d said. “Two jobs in four years is not that crazy.”

“You know what I mean. Graduated late, the year of unemployment–”

Taeyong frowns at him. Doyoung knows that Taeyong spent that year applying for jobs. The constant rejection had been brutal for his self-esteem, especially since his mother relentlessly compared him to Doyoung, and wouldn’t let him apply anywhere besides the top firms. But he didn’t complain, just kept pushing. “You sound like my mother.”

Doyoung huffs. He looks insulted, but smoothes his expression back into neutral. “Well, have you ever considered that maybe she has a point?”

Taeyong bites his bottom lip and looks back at his screen. His foot is jumping nervously underneath the desk.

“I’ll tell team leader-nim you had a doctor’s appointment, and didn’t want to mention it in case it sounded crass. But next time, you really have to come. Promise me, Yongie?”

“I don’t like those kinds of evenings, they make me nervous,” Taeyong says quietly.

Doyoung places a hand on his thigh, underneath the desk, where no one can see. He squeezes gently, stilling the nervous tic. “I’ll look after you. I know drinking with colleagues isn’t fun for you, but it’s for our future. We have to show we have company spirit.”

Taeyong looks down at Doyoung’s hand, and nods. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

Doyoung rubs his back, and squeezes his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. Will you leave something in the fridge for me? You know how ravenous I get after a night out.”

“Okay. I’ll make a stew or something.”

“Thanks.” He peers at the schedule on his phone. “Shit, I’m due for another meeting.”

“Go,” Taeyong encourages. “I have to finish up these reports anyways.”

“You’ve been getting compliments on those. You’re doing good work,” Doyoung says, while getting up and gathering the things he’s going to need for his meeting.

Taeyong nods. He’s a good worker, mostly. That’s never been the issue.

It’s a relief to get home. His commute is short, just three stops, one subway line. That’s the convenience they’d bought themselves when they decided to rent in Gangnam. But he’s still always bone tired by the time he walks through the front door. And maybe he kinds of misses a longer commute, sometimes. He remembers spending over an hour on the bus and the subway as a teenager, listening to underground rappers, head resting against the window as the world outside sped by.

He grabs a pot from below the sink and places it on their stove, after checking how much rice they’ve got left in the rice cooker. He doesn’t have the energy to make something complicated. He fries up some frozen beef strips, throws green onion and sesame seeds on top. Adds kimchi and water, and calls it a day. It’s simple but filling, and makes him feel better.

He places Doyoung’s portion in the centre of the fridge, writing him a little sticky note that says for my honey and decorating it with smileys and hearts. He sticks it on top. It sadly flops to the side, refusing to stick because of condensation.

“Oh my god?” he mutters to himself, insulted by the lack of cooperation from the sticky note’s glue. He’s clearly tired and aching to go to bed. Why must the note act out like this.

He has to spend five minutes hunting for tape in their junk drawer, before he can finally successfully adhere the note.

“Stupid note,” he mutters, throwing the fridge door shut. Then he opens it up again, checking one last time the note is definitely still sticking.

He holes up in the bathroom to do his nighttime skin routine, slowly working his way through his regimen of serums, tonics and creams. He loves doing this together with Doyoung; one of them seated on the toilet seat, the other by the sink, handing out the next step. Sometimes they do each other, and pretend they’re having a mini-treatment at a fancy spa.

Doyoung is always pretty, but Taeyong thinks he’s especially pretty with his hair pushed back by a headband, looking up at Taeyong as he gets serum patted into his skin. It’s vulnerable. Intimate.

That poor skin is currently being inundated with cigarette smoke, and getting sweaty at some gross noraebang probably. He puts their most soothing bottle of tonic in the middle of the shelf, the one with lavender essence. He takes a whiff of it, smiling over its pleasant fragrance. Doyoung won’t want to go through the whole routine while he’s drunk and tired, but he should at least use this one thing.

He ponders for a while, and then places their jar of Nivea next to it. At least these two things, moisturising is important.

He crawls into bed after setting their white noise machine to wave sounds. Then gets back out of bed again to pour lavender oil in their humidifier — he’d gotten in the mood for lavender after sniffing the tonic.

He slides in between their smooth silk sheets (well, silk-adjacent), face mask still on, and starts scrolling through Instagram. Doyoung has a new friends-only story, and he taps into it curiously.

“YAH!” a voice rips from his phone, followed by a chorus of giggles. Taeyong hides his smile behind his hand, delighted to see a shaky video of a bunch of people stuffed together in a noraebang. Someone is singing an older kpop song, very badly. He thinks it might be Jamin.

He taps the little chat box at the bottom of the story and types out having fun? hehe. your dinner is in the fridge, love you.

He discards his mask in the little waste basket he keeps by the bed just for this purpose, puts his phone on silent, and gets cosy. He sighs happily, feeling thoroughly rid of the stresses of the day. During small moments like these, he loves the life he’s built with Doyoung.

He’s woken up by Doyoung slipping into bed. Taeyong rolls towards him, placing a hand on his chest and lifting his head to press a kiss to his cheek. It feels a bit greasy from the Nivea. Doyoung smells good though, and feels cool to the touch — he must have taken a shower. He knows how sensitive Taeyong is to smells.

“Hey baby,” Doyoung mutters, turning his head to give Taeyong a kiss in return.

“How was it?” Taeyong asks, still half-asleep.

“A lot of fun, actually. You were missed.”

A pang of guilt in Taeyong’s stomach. He pushes it back down. “Yeah? You had fun?”

“Hm-mm,” Doyoung hums. His hand is rubbing Taeyong’s shoulder, strong and evenly. It feels good. It’s waking him up, in more ways than one.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“Didn’t eat it yet. I’ll eat it tomorrow.”

The touches continue, and Taeyong sighs over the simple pleasure of having his shoulder rubbed. “I wrote you a note.”

“Yeah, I saw. It was cute. Thank you, sweetheart.”

He throws a leg over Doyoung’s legs, and hoists himself half on top of him. He can’t see much of Doyoung’s face, so he checks in verbally. “You wanna...?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung breathes, his hands sliding up Taeyong’s stomach. Taeyong shivers in anticipation, pulling his sleep shirt up over his head. He sits back until he’s seated on top of Doyoung’s hardening cock, rutting against it slowly.

“Lie down on your back?” Doyoung asks. Taeyong obliges him, rolling to his side of the bed. Doyoung joins him, placing soft kisses on his shoulder, moving down the length of his chest. When he reaches the waistband of Taeyong’s underwear he lingers for a while, lightly kissing the sparse hair trailing from his navel.

Taeyong bucks his hips, trying to get Doyoung’s mouth on him. But Doyoung’s touches remain elusive, featherlight touches of his lips to Taeyong’s skin.

“Come on,” Taeyong begs, bucking his hips again. He’s horny now, hard inside his boxer briefs. He wants to be touched, feel grounded.

“Be patient,” Doyoung murmurs playfully. He continues kissing him softly, slowly graduating to giving his stomach slow licks. Taeyong huffs. His erection is beginning to wilt.

“Doie, please?” he asks.

“Okay, okay. You’re so impatient,” Doyoung murmurs good-naturedly, tugging down the waistband of Taeyong’s briefs. He places a gentle kiss to Taeyong’s frenulum, the tip of his tongue slipping out to give it kitten licks. Taeyong lies motionlessly, staring up at the ceiling and willing himself to stay hard. These soft little licks aren’t doing it for him. If anything, they feel kind of unpleasant, the sensation too gentle and repetitive. Like being poked, over and over. He knows Doie loves the build-up, but he kind of wishes it could be over already.

“Doie,” he says, leaning up on his elbows.

“What?” Doyoung asks, while still tonguing the head of Taeyong’s cock. It’s so little input, and yet too much, somehow.

“Can you please just suck it?”

Doyoung huffs, sitting back. “You’re in a mood.”

“It’s just, I don’t want it soft like that. It feels weird.”

Doyoung’s hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s being pushed back against the mattress. “Just relax, Yong. You’re really tense. I can make it good for you, but you need to relax.”

Taeyong lies back down. Okay, yeah. He just needs to get into it, not overthink things as much.

He pushes his nails into the palms of his hands when Doyoung finally takes him into his mouth. Doyoung sucks him off, just as gentle as his kisses before. It doesn’t really feel good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. He’s too wound up, he just needs to try and relax. It’ll start feeling good if he can just focus on his breathing, and empty his head, and be in the moment.

The pressure remains even, a soft, gentle suction. Warm, velvet-y soft. The longer it goes on, the harder it becomes to stay focused on coming. But he knows that’s the only way out of this situation.

Why do I always have to make everything so difficult?

Eventually, he can focus on the vague tendrils of pleasure enough to coax his body into an orgasm. It’s not a particularly good orgasm, over almost as soon as it hits him. He stays quiet throughout, breathing out a little harsher maybe. Doyoung sits back and gets off the bed. The hallway is illuminated when he flicks on the light of the bathroom, and Taeyong can hear him spitting into the sink and gurgling with mouth water.

The light is switched back off, and Doyoung crawls into bed next to him. Taeyong reaches over to grab Doyoung’s crotch. He feels warm, and hard.

Doyoung removes his hand again, patting it. “I’m still kinda drunk, baby,” Doyoung mutters, “kinda wanna sleep now.”

“Okay,” Taeyong murmurs back, retrieving his hand. Another pang of guilt in his stomach, which he pushes away. Tomorrow morning, he’ll return the favour. Tomorrow, he’ll be a better boyfriend.

In the quiet darkness of their bedroom, his thoughts flow freely. None of them are good. His mind chants its usual little spiel, about how much easier everything would be if he simply didn’t exist. Taeyong pushes it down, squeezing his eyes shut. The little voice has a point — why does he have to do things, if he’s going to be this bad at it? It’s an unsettling thought.

Doyoung is up and making coffee in the kitchen by the time Taeyong wakes up. He’s whistling a fragment of a song, over and over. Taeyong sits down at their kitchen island and cradles his head in his hands.

Doyoung laughs at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Why are you acting like you’re the one with the hangover?”

“I don’t know, I think I didn’t sleep well,” Taeyong grumbles. He briefly checked his appearance in their bathroom mirror on his way to the kitchen, upset over the puffy face that had been reflected back at him. “Do I look like a mess?” he whines pitifully, dropping his hands to show Doyoung the damage.

“No, you look beautiful,” Doyoung assures him, leaning over the island to offer a kiss. Taeyong kisses him, but continues to pout.

“I’m like, all puffy, but I feel hydrated at the same time? I don’t get it. I even used a mask last night.”

“Maybe the mask didn’t agree with you. Did you try something new?”

Taeyong nods. “They ran out of my favourite kind, but another brand had a one-plus-one sale. So I thought I’d give them a chance.”

“That must be why.” Doyoung sits down on the barstool next to his, sipping his cup of coffee. “I’ll go pick up some of the ones you like after work.”

Taeyong smiles softly at him. “You’re an angel. Do I tell you that enough?”

Doyoung grins into his cup. “Definitely not.”

“You missed an insane night last night,” Donghyuck announces, sitting down on the edge of Taeyong’s desk. Taeyong yanks on the stack of print-outs Donghyuck is currently creasing, but they’re firmly stuck underneath his butt cheek.

“Hyuck, seriously– I need those, I have to hand them in out in a meeting in like five minutes. Team leader is going to kill me.”

“No, listen, Jamin is who I’m here to discuss. She let loose yesterday, and I do mean,” Donghyuck drops his voice to a lower tone, “loose. It started out pretty innocent, but then, woah. I saw a side of that woman I’ve never seen before.”

“I don’t care,” Taeyong hisses, shoving at Donghyuck’s hip to try and free his poor print-outs.

“I don’t think she was even that drunk. We went to a club after noraebang, right? One of those snobby ones that demand you dress up fancy and want thirty k just to get in. And she talked to the bouncer and got us in free. All of us, just like that. There were ten of us, and she was the only woman, so it’s not even like the club was trying to load up on girls. I think she knew that guy. Bro, why does prim little team leader Na know a bouncer.”

Taeyong gives up on saving his current print-outs and resigns himself to sending a new printing task to a printer that’s stationed near the meeting room. He’ll pick them up on the way in.

“And I thought the music was going to be lame, but then we got in and, wow? The bass was so damn loud, the walls were vibrating. Let’s just say, if I’d had a pussy, it would instantly have gotten wet.”

“You’re going to make me late to my meeting because of a story about your hypothetical pussy?” He means for it to come out light-hearted, but really, he just sounds annoyed.

Donghyuck frowns at him. “What’s got you so testy? You love our daily gossip sesh.”

Taeyong rubs his cheeks, and then immediately regrets it, because maybe he fucked up his make-up. It’s just some bb cream he slathered on in the work bathroom, but he doesn’t have time to touch it up. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just want to make a good impression today, but I woke up with my face looking like a balloon, and then I discovered a pimple on the way here.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes at him. “Taeyong, people with your skin and bone structure don’t get to complain. How are the rest of us actual uggos suppose to feel?”

Taeyong bites his bottom lip, frowning at his desk. There’s so much within himself, conflicting and muddled. He can’t put a name to any of it. “I’m sorry.”

“Ew, don’t apologise,” Donghyuck whines, “I was just joking, now I feel bad. I’m sorry you’re having a bad day, okay? You look pretty and you’ll do great in your meeting. I mean, you don’t even care about meetings? It’ll be fine.”

It’s true, he doesn’t really care. But he wants to care. He wants to do better.

“Did I mess up my foundation?” he asks, tilting his cheek towards Donghyuck.

“Oh, yeah, a little bit. It’s kinda streaky, like,” Donghyuck touches his own cheek to show where, “right there.”

Taeyong is about to curse, when his eyes wander past Donghyuck. A very tall, very built man is walking towards their desk. He has auburn hair that’s long enough to be tucked behind his ears, definitely longer than office regulation. Taeyong’s heart does something it’s never done before; it physically skips a beat. He continues staring, mouth slightly open, feeling like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Donghyuck frowns at him and turns around to look at what Taeyong is staring at. “Oh. Hey, intern Suh,” he says casually, lifting a hand to wave at him.

“I told you to call me Johnny. Who’s your friend?” Johnny asks, one of the corners of his mouth pulled up into a half-smile.

“This is section chief Lee,” Donghyuck tells him, “this is his desk.”

“Nice to meet you,” Johnny says, and holds out a hand.

Taeyong stares at it, and doesn’t move or speak.

“Right, sorry, shaking hands isn’t the custom here. Sometimes it slips my mind,” Johnny chuckles, and instead bows.

Taeyong gets up and bows back at him, purely thanks to ingrained custom. His thoughts have flat-lined.

“... okay,” Donghyuck says, a comment on Taeyong’s unusual silence.

“Just dropping these off,” Johnny says, holding up a stack of manila envelopes. “Where’s Jamin’s office?”

“I was just about to go see team leader, I can take those to her,” Taeyong offers. His voice sounds thin and nervous, earning him another look from Donghyuck.

“Nah, that’s alright,” Johnny says jovially, “I personally need to go over some of these with her. If you could point me to her office?”

Taeyong points in the right direction, and Johnny smiles at them and walks off.

“Okay weirdo,” Donghyuck whispers, “what was that all about?” His eyebrows are just about touching his hairline.

“Who’s the gyopo?” Taeyong asks, doing his best to make his voice sound normal. He’s not sure he succeeds.

Donghyuck smiles deviously, back on track. “The new intern I was telling you about. He’s the one I have the juicy story about. He kissed Jamin.”

“Na Jamin kissed an intern?” Taeyong asks, wrinkling his nose, “that sounds kinda unprofessional.”

“Kinda? It’s wildly unprofessional. I’m telling you, she was like a whole new woman. You should’ve seen her on the dance floor.”

Taeyong furrows his brow at him. “Why do you sound impressed.”

“Um, because I am? I thought she was this stuffy tight-ass. But now, wow. That woman can dance.”

“Donghyuck,” Taeyong says flatly, “if you start dating my boss, I’m going to kill you.”

Donghyuck waves a dismissive hand at him. “Doyoung would get to me first. But you’ve got nothing to worry about, I’m not planning on asking her out. I’m just politely admiring. Besides, I think she’s going to have her hands full with the American. Did you see those fake-ass folders?”

“They didn’t look fake to me?” Taeyong says, and then catches himself. Why is he wasting energy on defending some stranger. “Nevermind, I have to go now, I’m already running late.”

“Toi toi toi,” Donghyuck sing-songs, launching himself off Taeyong’s desk with a little hop.

Taeyong collects the stack of papers Donghyuck was parked on. They’re horribly creased, and they end up being what he has to take into the meeting, because the printer didn’t bother printing his new task.

“You’re late,” Doyoung whispers angrily, while Taeyong slides into the seat next to his.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

Doyoung picks up one of the pages and starts trying to rub it flat. “Why do these look like this? It’s my numbers too, you know. I want to make a good impression.”

“I tried printing them again, but the printer wouldn’t do it.”

Doyoung gives him an unimpressed look. Probably because his hand-outs have been ready and printed since yesterday.

“Why hasn’t the meeting started yet?” Taeyong asks, looking around. His co-workers are on their phones, and talking to each other quietly in groups of two and three.

“Team leader isn’t here yet,” Doyoung says. He looks back at the door. “It’s not like her to be late. Did she look sick to you, earlier?”

“No, she seemed fine.” He lowers his voice, leaning in closer. “Hey, Donghyuck was saying she went kind of crazy on the dance floor. Do you know anything about that?”

Doyoung gives him an incredulous look. “Na Jamin, went crazy? Yeah, okay. Donghyuck lies for sport, everyone knows that.”

Taeyong taps his fingers against the table top. He doesn’t know that, actually. Donghyuck is often abrasive, and he’s a terminal gossip. But he’s not a liar. “I don’t think he was lying.”

“Just stupid office gossip. Don’t listen to that shit,” Doyoung says, leaning his chin in his hand.

“So she didn’t dance at the club?”

Doyoung shrugs. “Dunno, I went home after noraebang. I felt bad about leaving you home alone.”

Taeyong pouts, endeared. “Aw, thank you? That’s really sweet. But you didn’t have to leave early on my account.”

Doyoung shrugs. “I also kinda had too much to drink. Figured I’d leave before I threw up in front of my boss and horribly embarrassed myself.”

Taeyong laughs. “Okay, well, the gesture no longer seems as sweet now.”

“Section chief Kim?”

Three people look up, since all the most low-ranking office workers have the title of section chief in this company. Which means, everyone on this floor, besides the intern and Na Jamin. The latter is standing in the doorway now, her face pale and serious. She gestures in the direction of Doyoung. “I meant section chief Kim. Section chief Kim, could you please come see me in my office for a second? Also, I apologise, but the meeting will have to be rescheduled.”

Everyone starts getting up, gathering their things. Taeyong watches Doyoung follow Jamin out of the room, feeling vaguely fearful over Doyoung being singled out like this. Was it because of something Taeyong had done? Had their relationship gotten out somehow? He’s been so careful.

It’s an hour later when Doyoung reappears, walking towards Taeyong with an excited expression. Taeyong stops typing, waiting for Doyoung to reach him.

“I got promoted!” Doyoung exclaims, his face splitting into a wide grin.

It takes Taeyong a full second to register the words, he’d been so sure that it would be bad news. He gets up with a startled laugh. “Wait, really?”

“Yes! You’re looking at your new team leader!”

“Oh my god!” Taeyong says. “That’s so exciting? I had no idea they were even considering you!”

Doyoung beams at him. “Me neither! It really came as a surprise.”

“Wait, so, what about Na Jamin?”

“She’s also being promoted. That’s why the position became available. They asked her who she wanted as her replacement, and she chose me!”

Taeyong smiles, squeezing Doyoung’s shoulder. “Well deserved. You’re the best they’ve got.”

Doyoung looks like he might pop with pride. He’s even more beautiful when he’s excited. Taeyong wants to kiss him, but he can’t, of course.

“Thank you. Ah, I’m so freaking excited! I have to go call my mom, she’s going to be so happy.”

An ugly little thing unfurls in the pit of Taeyong’s stomach. “Yeah, go call her,” he says, still smiling. He sits down when Doyoung walks off, and exhales slowly, the smile dropping from his face.

If Doyoung tells his mom, that means Taeyong’s mom will find out within the week. And then she will call him, and he already knows how that conversation is going to go. He tries to take a deep breath, but it’s as if there’s something heavy sitting on his chest. He can’t breathe in all the way, and his stomach kind of hurts.

“Why are you being like this?” he mutters to himself, re-stacking piles on his desk, “just be happy for him, don’t think about yourself.”

“Section chief Lee?”

Taeyong looks up, and gets an eyeful of Johnny’s chest. He’s holding a laptop, and he’s standing really close. Taeyong can feel his jaw clenching shut, and his hands feel instantly clammy. What the fuck is wrong with him? Taeyong cranes his neck back a little further, so they can make eye contact.

Johnny smiles a disarming smile at him. “Hey. We meet again. I’m going to be your new deskmate.”

“Uh,” Taeyong says, and nothing else.

Johnny’s smile falters for a split second. “Did I get the wrong desk? I heard a spot is opening up here.”

That makes sense. Of course Doyoung won’t remain on the floor with the rest of the section chiefs. He’ll be moved into an office space. That makes perfect sense. Of course Johnny can sit here.

That’s all the stuff he should be saying. But instead he opens his mouth and no sound comes out.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks. He’s starting to look concerned.

Taeyong feels like dying. Just a little bit. “Y-yes, I’m sorry. I’m fine.” He squeezes the stack of paper he’s holding, hard enough that the paper makes a sound. “I just learned about Doyoung’s promotion and, I guess I’m rattled? I’m sorry.”

Johnny nods. “Right, of course. My bad. He’s your friend, right?”

“Yeah, he’s my friend.”

“Donghyuck told me you’ve known each other since college. You’re probably used to sitting next to him?”

Taeyong nods.

Then Johnny’s hand lands on his shoulder, warm and big. Taeyong’s eyes cut down to his desk. His heart is thundering in his chest.

“I’ll try and fill the gap,” Johnny tells him in a jovial tone, “I’m pretty good conversation, I’m sure we’ll have fun.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies faintly. He looks up at Johnny. Even from this unforgiving angle, the American is pleasing to look at. “So you’ll be our new section chief?”

“God no,” Johnny laughs, “I would never. Still just an intern.”

Taeyong doesn’t know what to say to that. Who wouldn’t want to be promoted? He’s never even considered the concept. “Doyoung’s things are still here, but, I think it’s okay if you set up? I don’t know, no one informed me.”

“Right here?” Johnny asks, pointing at Doyoung’s spot.

Taeyong nods quickly, and goes back to staring at the paperwork in his hands. They’re the print-outs for the meeting. He can’t believe that was only an hour ago.

“I’m going to lunch,” he lies impulsively, and then quickly walks off, worried Johnny will want to come with. He holes up in the bathroom furthest from his desk, and locks himself in one of the stalls. It’s pure instinct to hide, but then the stall makes him feel claustrophobic, and he has to come back out of it.

You’re fucking ridiculous, he thinks at himself in the bathroom mirror.

lee taeyong
I think Jamin’s intern is sitting next to me from now on

lee donghyuck
EW LUCKY

Taeyong rolls his eyes and pockets his phone again. He wanted comfort from Donghyuck, not sass.

He’s always liked that the design of the desk meant he was sitting right next to Doyoung, but now he’s less happy about it. Johnny takes up a lot of space, even more than his height would suggest. His paperwork sprawls out around him like an ever-rising tide. Taeyong doesn’t fully understand what Johnny’s job description is, but it seems very complicated and very time-consuming. Johnny usually has his airpods in while he works, and takes notes with a serious expression.

There was no need to worry about further fraternisation attempts from Johnny, because there’s been none. The American is wholly focused on his work. Taeyong tries to do the same, but falls into old habits, wasting time scrolling through social media and news sites. Work is just such a chore, he doesn’t know how other people stay focused. It’s even more tempting now that Doyoung isn’t his deskmate anymore, no longer there to judge him about not staying on track.

Doyoung’s been given an office space at the back end of the floor, one that doesn’t have a window to outside, instead looking out onto the main floor. Since he’s been given it, he’s barely emerged from it. Taeyong has gone to have lunch with him a couple of times, bringing the food with him, but it’s kind of a depressing affair. Doyoung’s workload appears to have doubled, and he doesn’t even stop typing while they’re eating.

When he takes a seat across Doyoung’s desk, it’s with the expectation that he’ll be quiet. He eats a good portion of his sandwich while looking at the people working on the main floor.

“I’ve been thinking lately: maybe we could get a cat? You’ve been getting home late more often, it would be nice to have some extra company.”

Doyoung wrinkles his nose, doesn’t look away from his screen. He’s holding his sandwich in his left hand, but hasn’t taken a bite yet. His mouse hand is clicking away. “Pets are dirty. No thanks.”

“Or some fish? Like, in an aquarium. I think it could really–”

“Baby, no. I hate how those sound.”

Taeyong picks at his sandwich. Doyoung’s salary has increased, to match his new title, and Taeyong feels more inadequate than ever. He’s older, by a year. He should be bringing in the same amount at the very least. Right?

“Do you feel embarrassed by me sometimes?” Taeyong asks quietly.

Doyoung puts the sandwich down, but keeps looking at the screen, typing something in a quick rattle. “What makes you say that?”

“I just... sometimes, I kind of feel like an underachiever.”

Doyoung’s eyes flicker towards him. “I don’t think of you that way at all.”

“I know you don’t. But, maybe your parents kind of do?” Taeyong draws his bottom lip into his mouth.

Doyoung shrugs, his fingers continuing to rattle across his keyboard. “My parents think you’re my roommate. They’re not that focused on your achievements.”

“They still think that? I think my mom has kind of been catching on, to tell you the truth.”

“Your mom is a more perceptive woman than mine, then. Mine is still introducing me to friends’ daughters.”

Taeyong pouts. “Really? I didn’t know about that.”

Doyoung shrugs again. “Because it’s not important. I’m not interested in those girls.” He stops typing, leaning back to stretch out his arms above him. He gives Taeyong a loving look, and lowers his voice. “I’m engaged to you. I love you. I know my folks won’t be receptive, so I’ve been sparing their feelings. But it doesn’t make it less true.”

Taeyong’s mom has never tried to introduce him to the daughter of one of her friends. Her weekly phone call mostly revolves around how disappointed she feels. Disappointed in Taeyong, in Taeyong’s father, in how her church’s services are being run. “I love you too,” Taeyong says with a small smile. He wishes there wasn’t a window at all, so he could walk over and steal a kiss.

“Has someone been saying something to you?” Doyoung asks, with a glint in his eye. “I’ll fight them.”

Taeyong shakes his head, still smiling. “No, nothing like that. Just some things I’ve been thinking about.”

“Okay. Good. Hey babe?” He points at his screen. “I really have to get back to this report now.”

Taeyong nods. Of course. “I’ll go finish my lunch at my desk.”

“Thank youu, sorryy,” Doyoung replies, using cute speech. Taeyong closes his office door behind him with a smile.

Jamin is waiting for him by his desk. Johnny is conspicuously absent from it, even though he rarely is.

She straightens out when she spots him. “Ah, Lee-nim, there you are. You’re close to team leader Kim, correct?”

Taeyong takes a second to shift gears, back into his public persona. “Yes, ma’am. He’s my best friend.”

“Aha, perfect. I want to get some colleagues together tonight, to celebrate his promotion. Do you know a place he likes? I’ll call for reservations. Or you can call them, that would also work.”

“Yes, I know a raw beef place nearby. They’re good for groups.”

“Great. I’ll go around and check who is available tonight, and then I’ll send you the number of participants.”

Johnny appears just as she’s walking off, overtly staring at the way her pencil skirt clings to her ass. “Love that little spitfire,” he mutters, while taking his seat. His knee brushes against Taeyong’s thigh.

Taeyong stiffens in his seat, his shoulders drawing up. Act normal. He’s just a temp like any other. Stop being weird!

“She’s taking us out to dinner tonight. Would you like to join us?” he asks tonelessly, while finding the restaurant’s number.

“That’d be great. Which cuisine?”

“All you can eat raw beef... I think they do raw salmon too.”

Johnny is tapping his pencil, tapping out a rhythm against the desk. “Can’t say I’ve had that combo before, but it sounds delicious. I’m excited.”

His phone buzzes, and he glances at the screen.

lee donghyuck
DID YOU HEAR? NA JAMIN AND JOHNNY JUST DID IT IN THE BATHROOM

Taeyong looks over at Johnny, who is back to taking notes. Not a hair out of place.

lee taeyong
Stop spreading dumb gossip

lee donghyuck
it’s not gossip if it’s true!!!!!!! Ugh whatever, you’re no fun

Dinner is going great. Making reservations went smoothly, travelling to the place also went smoothly. Everyone is seated in a pleasant spot in the restaurant, no one is getting aircon blown directly on them. The food came out quickly and is delicious. Doyoung has been smiling widely for the entire last hour.

Taeyong is finally starting to relax a little bit. There’s still a swirl of panic in his stomach, but that’s always there, so it’s fine. He just needs to keep his breathing even, drink a few shots but not too many, and he’ll get through the next however many hours with no issue.

Their party isn’t very big, which also helps soothe him. Less variables to worry about. Johnny came, as did Jamin, and the person Jamin now directly works under. There’s also two people from the desk Donghyuck works at — although Donghyuck himself didn’t make it. A new section chief from their own floor completes the party. It’s a girl Taeyong has never spoken to before; Kim something. She seems nice enough. She’s tall and pretty, with a stylishly cut bob.

Donghyuck’s name falls, and he tunes back into the conversation. The people who sit at Donghyuck’s desk are laughing with their hands in front of their mouths, their eyebrows pulled up.

“No way! Really?”

Jamin is smiling widely. She has an attractive smile. “Yes, he’s a gay for sure.”

Taeyong’s breathing stills, his grip on his chopsticks becoming so tight that the metal cuts into his fingers.

“Donghyuck? No way. He has a girlfriend, I’ve seen her,” one of Donghyuck’s desk mates says.

“No, no, that wasn’t his girlfriend! That’s his sister or something, or his cousin?” the other desk mate interjects.

Taeyong’s eyes slide to Doyoung’s face. Doyoung is still smiling, but it looks stiff. He isn’t saying anything.

Jamin shakes her hair back. “He does seem like that, to be honest. The way he walks... and he’s lazy too. All the ones like that are underachievers. That’s why you usually never meet any at work. They don’t even finish high school.”

“That’s a messed up thing to say,” Johnny says, cutting through the giggles. His voice is calm. Friendly, even.

A deafening silence falls at the table. Jamin and her department head are both staring at Johnny with matching incredulity. Doyoung’s co-workers are glancing at each other, eyebrows still pulled high. This is going to be the talk of the office tomorrow. Not in front of Donghyuck, of course. Behind his back. The girl with the bob picks up her beer, and starts downing the whole thing in one go.

Jamin is the one who gets the conversation back on track. “Aah, Youngho-ssi... you wouldn’t understand, you’re a foreigner. We don’t mean anything by it.” She laughs pleasantly. “It’s just office talk.”

Johnny smiles at her. “My mistake, team leader. I was worried about seeming unkind towards Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck is great, everyone knows that. I was just ribbing him,” Jamin soothes. She’s still smiling, but there’s a sharpness to it. If Taeyong could find the words, he’d tell Johnny to stop talking.

“Exactly,” Doyoung says, his smile still pained, “she’s just teasing him.”

“He’s not here though,” Johnny points out amiably. “Usually when I tease people, I make sure they’re around to hear it.”

“Another round of salmon, please,” the department head says loudly, addressing the waiter who’s walking by. The tension is cut. Donghyuck’s desk mates immediately start talking to one another, and Jamin turns to the department head and Doyoung, asking them both about how transitioning into their new roles has been working out for them.

Taeyong stares at his plate for a few moments longer, and then unobtrusively gets up and goes to the bathroom. He locks himself in a stall, and sits down and places his head between his knees. The walls are closing in on him, but he needs the isolation more than he needs space.

Slow breaths, he thinks to himself. His fingertips are turning white, where they’re digging into the back of his neck.

His heart is hurting for his friend, and for himself. A few hot tears spill onto the floor. He’s angry with himself. Why didn’t he say anything? Johnny had said something, and he’s not even Donghyuck’s friend.

He sits back and takes a deep, calming breath. Dries his eyes and goes back out to finish his food. He can’t speak, but it’s fine. No one seems to notice. The conversation is shallow and pleasant for the remainder of the meal, and everyone agrees to noraebang after dinner. Taeyong walks alongside them as they go down the street, towards the main alleyway of the neighbourhood they’re in. Neon signs light up the buildings brightly, advertising food and entertainment. A hand squeezes his shoulder and he shrugs it off.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung mutters, but Taeyong shakes his head. If he talks right now, he’ll start crying again. They walk side by side, not speaking a word to one another.

Taeyong lets himself be herded into a sizeable room, with a couch all along three of the walls. There’s a big table in the middle which holds several laminated menus. Jamin starts ordering bottles, while Doyoung accepts the task of finding a good opening song.

Everyone is seated and chatting amicably. Taeyong is trying to listen, trying to engage in their conversation. But it feels like he’s inside a glass box, the voices around him muddled and hard to tell apart.

Shots of soju are lined up in front of him, and he downs them as they come. He knows he shouldn’t be drinking this much. A little bit helps soothe his nerves, but a lot makes his anxiety worse. Much worse.

A flash goes off several times, and Taeyong pieces together that he’s having his picture taken. He tilts his head and grimaces, throwing a v sign.

“Ahhh, Taeyong-ssi! You look so cute,” one of Doyoung’s desk mates says, showing him the screen of her phone. She’s loud enough to cut through the song that’s playing at full volume, a classic trot song. Everyone knows the lyrics, everyone is singing along. He can’t see the screen very well, just a bright blur that’s shaking in front of his eyes. He can see the outline of it trailing after, fading squares of light filling his vision.

“Excuse me,” he mutters, and gets up. He’s unsteady on his legs — did he have that much to drink?

A hand clamps down around his bicep. He tries to shrug it away, but it’s holding him tightly, like a vice. It’s probably best that he can’t get free, because he suspects it’s all that’s keeping him from falling over.

“Let’s go outside for a minute,” a voice says into his ear. Taeyong nods. Yes, outside. He wants to be outside.

They exit out into the hallway, and even the hallway air feels cool after the humidity and noise inside the room. Taeyong looks up at Johnny, who still has a tight grip on his arm. He feels like shit, and he wonders if he looks it too. But Johnny doesn’t seem disgusted. There’s concern in his face.

“Still want to go outside?”

Taeyong nods jerkily, lips rolled into his mouth.

“I thought so,” Johnny says, “don’t throw up until we’re there, okay?”

“I’m not going to throw up,” Taeyong mutters.

Johnny sits him down on a step outside the building, one of his hands massaging Taeyong’s neck. It feels good. Taeyong places his head between his knees, and goes through his breathing routine again. All of this usually happens when he goes out, but tonight is one of the worst nights he’s had in a while. He feels like he’s under water.

“I won’t tell anyone if you hurl,” Johnny promises.

Taeyong smiles at him shakily. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Am I? I’m just being a good colleague.”

He can’t get a read on Johnny. He’s friendly, but not actually all that sociable. He treats everyone with professionalism, but Donghyuck is convinced he’s fucking the boss? He can’t even make a decent guess towards Johnny’s age. He’s been assuming they’re close in age, but this close up, he can see crow’s feet by Johnny’s eyes.

“Should I be calling you hyung?” Taeyong asks.

“What year were you born?” Johnny asks. There’s a soft smile on his face.

“Ninety-five.”

“I’m practically an uncle, then. Eighty-five.”

Taeyong’s mouth round outs in shock. Johnny is in his thirties? But he’s still an intern, how is that even possible?

“But you’re an intern,” Taeyong blurts out.

Johnny grins, like he was expecting that remark. “Yup.”

“But...” Taeyong repeats. He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s already being rude, so he just closes his mouth and looks away.

“It’s on purpose,” Johnny explains. “I work short-term positions here and there, enough to increase my savings. Once I’ve saved up enough, I go back to travelling.”

“So you’ve been to a lot of places?” Taeyong asks. He’s starting to feel better, the numbness draining from his hands and face. Johnny, surprisingly, is easy to talk to.

“I guess I have.”

“How many countries have you visited?”

“Visited? Phew, couldn’t say, not off the top of my head. Lived in, nine.”

Taeyong feels shocked again. “Nine?”

“Maybe it’s a bit less impressive than it sounds. My dad is in the US military, so I got a head start as a kid. I’ve actually lived in Korea before, for a spell, when I was still a kid. Long enough to become fluent.”

“Oh. It’s still pretty impressive, actually. I’ve never lived anywhere besides here.”

“Would you like to live elsewhere?”

Taeyong shrugs. He hasn’t really thought about it. How would he even begin to plan that out? And how would he communicate with people there? People abroad don’t speak Korean. “I don’t know. Do you think I’d like it?”

“Maybe? It depends on what you want to get out of it.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“I get to perform my music. I have my stuff up on Soundcloud.”

Taeyong knows what that is, and he smiles. It’s the first time he’s felt a sense of connection to his colleague. “I love Soundcloud. I listen to a lot of rappers.” Well, he used to. Lately, it’s like there’s always something else demanding his attention.

“Ah, I don’t think I really fall into that category. I mostly release EDM.”

“What’s your name? I’ll check you out.”

“Sunny Side Up,” Johnny says with a little smile.

Taeyong smiles back at him. It’s a cheesy name. He likes it.

Johnny takes his phone out. “Hey, can I add you on Kakao?”

“Hm, of course,” Taeyong nods, producing his own phone and allowing Johnny to scan his QR code in the app.

“There you are,” Doyoung says, nudging Taeyong in the back. Taeyong looks up over his shoulder, smiling up at Doyoung.

“Hey.”

“How much longer are you going to sit outside? Your absence has been noticed.”

Taeyong gets back to his feet. “Sorry, I wasn’t feeling good.”

Doyoung reaches out to place a hand to Taeyong’s neck. His hands are cool and strong, and they always help Taeyong calm down. “Do you feel better now?” He looks more concerned than he did a minute ago.

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, briefly touching a hand to Doyoung’s. “I’m ready to go back inside now. Johnny, are you joining us?”

Johnny pockets his phone and gets up, nodding at both of them. “Sure thing.”

He’s sitting with his head leaned on Doyoung’s shoulder, in the back of a cab. He likes being inside cars. He remembers lying down in the back as a kid, watching streetlights rhythmically come into view and disappear again. At the right speed, it had looked like one long pulsating light. His mom would be up front, talking animatedly, singing along to the radio. His dad would be quiet. But sometimes, after they’d stopped for gas, his dad’s hand would appear on the side where mom couldn’t see, and he’d be holding out a piece of candy. Those are some of Taeyong’s favourite memories.

But he’s an adult now, and adults stay upright in public. He’s staring out ahead, at the cars in front of them. Even this late at night, there’s traffic. He knows it’s not like this in other parts of Seoul, but Gangnam goes to sleep later. He stares at the sea of red tail lights, listens to the buses’ screeching breaks. Looks at the other cabs with people inside, just trying to get home. Taeyong feels strangely wistful.

“That was kind of fucked up,” Doyoung says, and then falls silent again.

“The stuff about Donghyuck?” Taeyong asks, when Doyoung doesn’t clarify.

“Yeah.”

“I feel bad. She was being cruel, and I didn’t say anything.”

“I wouldn’t say she was being cruel. She’s just ignorant.”

Taeyong grimaces. He’s not in the mood to hear excuses for Na Jamin’s behaviour. “Johnny is the only one who said anything. He doesn’t even have a stake in all this; I don’t think he’s even friends with Donghyuck.”

“That’s why he could say something. He’s just an intern, and he’s not like us. Plus, he’s a foreigner. Different rules apply to them.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Taeyong’s wistful mood is quickly disappearing, the roar of anxiety returning. He stares out the window, and frets. Aside from Doyoung, Donghyuck is his oldest friend. And he didn’t even stand up for him. He’s such a bad friend. He knows Donghyuck would have stood up for him, if things had been the other way around. And he would’ve done it in his own typical Donghyuck way. Light-hearted, effortless, without making anyone feel too bad. Maybe he would’ve told a little deflecting joke, like, I thought it was people with bleached hair who were known for being underachievers?

Why can’t Taeyong be like that.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Donghyuck doesn’t need to know.”

“You think so?” Taeyong asks, unsure.

“Of course. It will just hurt his feelings, and it’ll be for nothing. We can’t change how people think.”

Taeyong falls silent, staring out ahead, with unseeing eyes now. He wishes they were home already. He wants to take a shower and crawl into bed.

Doyoung lets him stew until he’s done going through his nightly work emails. He scoots towards Taeyong, until their hands and knees are touching. “Taeyong, let it go,” Doyoung murmurs. He touches Taeyong’s engagement ring, playing with it.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. He’s so lucky to have Doyoung, who always puts up with his low moods.

Doyoung leans over him, and brushes their lips together. “Can I get some sugar?”

Taeyong suppresses a laugh. “Gross, don’t say it like that.”

“Hmm, daddy wants some sugar~” Doyoung continues.

Taeyong rolls his eyes at him. He had once asked Doyoung if they could try out daddy kink together, just the one time. Doyoung hadn’t been able to get into it, but still uses the words associated with it to tease Taeyong sometimes.

“But seriously, are you in the mood?” Doyoung checks, running his hand up and down Taeyong’s side.

“I could get in the mood,” Taeyong intones, and pushes his hips up.

Doyoung bares Taeyong’s stomach, and starts placing feather light kisses there. Immediately, an itchy feeling starts up inside of him. Right below his skin, everywhere, this unscratchable itch. It’s overwhelming and unpleasant. “Not so soft,” he mutters, frowning.

Doyoung sighs at him, and kisses down harder. Just harder, not sensual. His lips make dry contact. It doesn’t feel particularly good, but at least it’s not maddening like the soft kisses are.

Taeyong lets it happen for a while, and then turns onto his stomach. Doyoung pushes his pyjama vest up, and presses tender, lingering kisses along his spine. Soft, soft, soft. Taeyong grabs a pillow, burying his face in it and straining to keep quiet, pushing down the agonised whimper that’s trying to wrestle free. He just has to wait. If he waits, this moment will pass.

It’s momentary relief when Doyoung sits back and grabs the lube. Taeyong shoves his pyjama bottoms below his ass and takes the lube from him, set on avoiding being opened up slowly and carefully. He forces himself through that experience often, for Doyoung’s sake. But tonight, he just can’t. He slathers his fingers and shoves them inside, moaning into the pillow. Doyoung huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Needy.”

Taeyong nods, continuing to finger himself. “Please, Doie,” he begs quietly, spreading his cheeks so he’s completely on display for his fiancé, “need you.”

Doyoung smirks. “Does my baby boy need me?”

It doesn’t really matter if he’s only saying it as a joke, it still does it for Taeyong. He nods and moans, pressing his chest and cheek deeper into the mattress, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He’s getting drool on the mattress covering, which Doyoung usually doesn’t like, but maybe he won’t comment on it this time. Taeyong likes things a little bit messy, it makes him feel free.

Doyoung wets his bottom lip, knee-walking forward and lining himself up with Taeyong’s hole. He rubs the tip of his cock over Taeyong’s hole a couple of times, testing.

“Could you hand me the lube?”

“Please?” Taeyong asks, hoping against hope, “just this once?”

“You know I don’t like friction, it doesn’t feel nice,” Doyoung reminds him. Taeyong grabs the lube and hands it to him. Doyoung slathers it on, cool and gloopy, and carefully fingers it into Taeyong. Taeyong does his best to keep his focus scattered. If he just thinks of work tomorrow. Work, where he’ll see Donghyuck. Who he failed to defend.

No, no, don’t think of Donghyuck.

He takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the stack of paperwork he still needs to get through.

A crisp little image pops up into mind’s eye, of Johnny working, surrounded by piles of paperwork. His too long hair falling over his face, obscuring his eyes but framing the dramatic curve of his lips.

Taeyong moans over the surge of arousal that goes through him, his fingers digging into their silky mattress covering.

“Careful,” Doyoung reminds him. They only recently invested in really nice sheets, after Taeyong got hired at Doyoung’s company. Taeyong tucks his nails into his hands, digging them into the flesh of his palms. He knows he’s going to feel ashamed about this later, but his thoughts stay on Johnny.

He’s so broad. He’s got muscle on him. When he reaches for things across the desk, or hands things over to people walking past behind him, the material of his work shirt clings to him. Taeyong has tried so hard not to notice, not to think of it. But right now he’s a little bit drunk still, and horny, and his defences are lowered. He wonders how it would feel to touch Johnny.

No, stop that, you asshole. Doyoung has beautiful muscles too. Think about those.

Taeyong rolls onto his back again, halting Doyoung’s fingering. He clamps his legs around Doyoung’s waist, pulling him in close, reaching out to touch Doyoung’s arms and chest. Doyoung might not be as buff as Johnny, but he’s definitely well-built. And he’s an incredibly beautiful man, and successful, and loving. Taeyong has lucked out beyond measure.

“What?” Doyoung asks, smiling at him.

“Nothing. You’re very pretty, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Doyoung reminds him with a soft smile. He lines himself up and pushes into Taeyong, slow but steady.

Taeyong gasps, his toes curling with pleasure. “Doie,” he keens, pressing his foot into Doyoung’s lower back, trying to bring them closer together.

“Hold on,” Doyoung tells him, placing a hand next to Taeyong’s head for leverage. He starts fucking into him, at a relaxed and even pace. Taeyong grinds his teeth, tries to buck his hips in encouragement, but he already knows nothing will work. Doyoung sets the pace, and this is always the pace. Slowly, he feels his arousal draining from him.

“Doie,” he says softly, not above begging. He so desperately wants to enjoy this. He just needs a little bit more.

“What?” Doyoung asks tensely, already guessing where the conversation is heading.

“Can you– harder?”

Doyoung exhales in frustration, letting his head hang. “Christ, Taeyong. Every time. You know I don’t like it like that.”

“But– why not?” Taeyong asks.

“It’s just not my favourite, okay? Is right now really the time to be discussing this? Why do you always want it hard?”

Taeyong looks down, awash with regret for asking. “It feels better.”

“Okay, well, I really don’t remember you liking it so much in the past, and it doesn’t feel better for me. Fuck me for wanting to make love to you, huh.”

“But we never do it like how I like it.”

“Yes, we do,” Doyoung says firmly. Taeyong frowns, trying to recall.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Anxiety is crashing through his system like an avalanche, and he tries his hardest to remain stone-faced, and not give it away. He doesn’t want to look like he’s feigning weakness for sympathy.

“It’s fine, but this is ruined.” Doyoung pulls out of him, eyebrows still furrowed. He lies down next to Taeyong, back turned to him, and pulls their blankets over him.

Taeyong fixes his pyjamas, and then picks up his half of the blanket and gets underneath it. He lies curled towards Doyoung, but doesn’t dare touch him yet. The lube is still in between his ass cheeks, now unpleasant against his skin. He knows he needs to go take a shower, but he can’t bring himself to leave their bed just yet.

“I really am sorry, Doie.”

Doyoung exhales heavily. “Is this because of the Donghyuck thing?”

Taeyong blinks in surprise. “What? No, of course not. Why would you even think that.”

“Like, are you trying to punish me? I don’t do what you want, and now this again?”

“This has nothing to do with Donghyuck.”

“Because Na Jamin had a point. He is lazy.”

It feels like, in a way, Doyoung is also criticising Taeyong. Because Donghyuck and him are pretty evenly matched, when it comes to work ethic. “That’s a cruel thing to say about a friend,” Taeyong whispers.

“Why? It’s the truth. He doesn’t care about his work performance and everyone has noticed. The thing she said about gay people is fucked up, but she has a point about Donghyuck.”

Taeyong is becoming angry now. “Are you just turning against him because you’re hoping you won’t be painted with the same brush if you avoid association with him? Those people, they’re never going to accept you as one of theirs. Stop sucking up to them.”

“Those people?” Doyoung turns towards him, scowling. “Those are my colleagues you’re talking about. I happen to like them, a lot. You’ve only been with us for a couple of months, and this is how you choose to talk about them?”

Taeyong sits up. It’s so hard to think. He feels angry, but mostly confused.

“Taeyong, no!” Doyoung says, pushing at him. “You’re gonna soak lube into the sheets.”

Taeyong gets up from their bed with a frustrated movement, pulling at his own hair. “Doyoung, oh my god! Fuck the sheets.”

“Don’t yell at me! They’re brand new!”

“I’m not yelling!” Taeyong takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry. I was yelling. It’s just, where was all of this collegial energy when Donghyuck was being dragged through the mud...? He’s also your colleague.”

Doyoung shrugs. “Yeah, but for how much longer.” He’s clearly past being reasonable, but Taeyong can’t keep it in anymore.

“He’s also your friend, you fucking asshole.”

Doyoung throws a pillow at him, voice tense and angry. “No, he’s your friend! I can’t stand him! Stop acting like I should want everything you want!” Then he suddenly lies back down, staring up at the ceiling, breathing erratically. He looks like he’s about to explode, but is keeping it in. “I’m done with this conversation. Just, go away, please.”

Taeyong agrees leaving the room is for the best. He locks himself in their bathroom, and turns the shower on full blast, the water blazing hot. He shucks his pyjamas off and steps into the spray. Within a minute, he’s crying, face hidden in his hands, forehead leaned against the tiles.

These fights have been happening more and more often lately. As soon as they’re over, he can’t even really remember how they ended up fighting again. He feels bad; about himself, about his behaviour. The little voice in his head reminds him how much easier things would be if he were dead.

He doesn’t actually want to die, is the thing. But day in day out, his brain points out that it’s an option. It makes his existence feel more unbearable than it already feels.

What am I doing all this for? Why am I working that job? To have this apartment in a neighbourhood I hate, with a boyfriend who can’t stand me? No, not boyfriend. Fiancé. But we can’t even get married, can’t even tell our families. So what the fuck does it matter that we’re fiancés?

But I can’t quit my job again. What will my mom say. What will Doyoung say.

His thoughts rounds back to why he was fired at his first job. He hates thinking of it, hates the shamefulness of it, but like clockwork, his mind tortures him with the memory. He’s never told Doyoung, can’t bring himself to. Because it was his own fault. He hadn’t been careful enough. He’d gotten too close to a colleague, had let slip that he had a boyfriend. He really hadn’t meant to, and corrected himself as soon as the words left his mouth, but the damage had been done.

His colleague had probably already suspected it about him. And Taeyong had stupidly confirmed it for him. The next day, the whole office knew. A week later, he’d been informed they couldn’t keep him on. Budget issues, they’d claimed. They had to let go of the most junior co-worker. He wanted to believe that lie, if only for his own peace of mind, but three people his junior had stayed on.

Doyoung had been so happy that Taeyong had finally found a decent position, one befitting of their education and social position. Taeyong can still conjure up the disappointment in Doyoung’s face, when Taeyong came home and had to break the news to him.

He shuts off the water and takes a deep breath, rubbing his palms below his eyes. It doesn’t matter, all of that is in the past and it doesn’t matter anymore. He needs to stop thinking about it. He’s going to find a way to find joy in his new position, and do well, and be promoted loads, and become rich. Promotions are the only thing he can hope for in his future — not marriage, nor kids — so that is how he’s going to live a good life, by becoming a dedicated career man.

Doyoung is snoring softly by the time Taeyong exits the bathroom. He walks into their living room slash kitchen, still buck naked, and sits down on their ugly couch. Doyoung hates getting moisture on the couch, as expensive as it is, but Taeyong reasons it’s fine for just this once. It will dry up by morning, Doyoung doesn’t need to know.

He turns on the TV, without sound, watching the flashing images with tired eyes. Above the TV hangs their graduation picture, along with the art piece Taeyong made. It’s a bright red mouth, roughly depicted with oil pastels. He’d been so proud of it when he’d first finished it, but now all he can recall is Doyoung’s lukewarm reception. The memory hurts him, and he fails to distract himself. It’s the alcohol, maybe, or the panic attack he had, or the fight. He can’t keep any of the bad thoughts quiet, tonight.

Stupid. Stupid. Why did he think that would be a good gift? Of course it was insulting, when Doyoung had given him something so precious and expensive.

He gets up and lifts the frame from the wall. He walks the three steps to their kitchen and rips the art from its frame on their countertop. He crumples it and throws it into their trash bin, and stores the empty frame in a kitchen cupboard.

When he finally gets back into bed, still naked, a message is waiting for him on his phone. A friend request from Johnny, in the form of a little message.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
hey

Taeyong adds him, and sends him a sticker in response, of a tired bunny crawling into bed.

The next morning goes as expected. Doyoung gives him a kiss on his cheek by way of asking for forgiveness, and Taeyong hugs him. They go into work together, standing close together on the crowded subway car.

Johnny is already at their desk, focused on his work, as always. Taeyong takes his seat and fires up his laptop, massaging his temples to will away his hangover.

Johnny’s elbow bumps into his, and he turns his head to look at him, one inquisitive eyebrow raised.

Johnny offers him an airpod. “Check this out.”

Taeyong places the airpod in his ear. Music is playing. Something soothing and electronic. Yours? he mouths.

Johnny nods, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before going back to work. Taeyong hides a laugh behind his hand, and looks at Johnny a few moments longer before turning back to his screen.

Johnny lets him listen to a few more songs, and then asks for his airpod back.

“I need to focus on this, sorry.”

“Actually, what is all of this?” Taeyong asks, leaning in closer to try and get a better look at Johnny’s piles and piles of paperwork. Almost all of it is in English.

Johnny looks at him for a couple of seconds, like he’s trying to figure something out about Taeyong. “Don’t tell anyone?”

Taeyong is surprised. A secret? That’s unexpected. He realises Johnny is actually waiting for his response. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promises.

Johnny taps the paperwork, lowering his voice so only Taeyong can hear him. “I tutor at a hagwon in the evenings. I’m preparing new lessons, grading their work, all that stuff.”

Taeyong just stares at him for a couple of seconds. “Don’t you need to work your actual job? I mean, like, the things they make you do here?”

“No one ever gave me anything to do,” Johnny confides in him with a grin, head ducked. He looks so irreverent, so fucking beautiful, it takes Taeyong’s breath away. “I’ve just been changing floors once in a while, and make sure I always look busy. I log in and log out at the appropriate times, and check my work e-mails every day. They’re mostly invites to meetings. I attend them once in a while, and pretend to take notes.”

Taeyong leans closer towards him. “How long have you been working here?”

“Eight months.”

Taeyong shakes his head. He doesn’t disapprove; he’s impressed. Johnny has cracked the code.

“You’re not going to tell on me?” Johnny doesn’t appear genuinely concerned. He’s saying it like they’re both in on the same joke.

“No, of course not,” Taeyong says, “why would I?”

Johnny gives him another little smile, while tucking his airpod back into his ear. Taeyong’s stupid heart skips another beat, and then another when Johnny tells him: “Good boy.”

Taeyong’s eyes shoot back towards his screen, fingers digging into his keyboard. Nonsense letters appear in the report he’s been working on, and he quickly erases them, trying to focus on anything except the little beam of pride he feels over receiving a compliment from Johnny.

Get a grip. You can’t crush on your straight co-worker. You can’t have a crush at all. Stop it!

A hard finger jabs him in the shoulder, and he looks behind him with wide eyes. Why does he feel caught? He wasn’t even doing anything wrong.

It’s just Donghyuck. He exhales the stress from his system, and smiles at him.

“Hey.”

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything back, just tilts his head towards the elevators. Taeyong frowns but gets up and follows him. The elevator doors close and still Donghyuck is saying nothing. Now that Taeyong is starting to pay attention to him, he notices something is really off about his friend. He seems... sad? Taeyong can’t remember ever seeing Donghyuck sad before. There is a limited set of moods Donghyuck cycles between, and sad is not one of them. He mostly bounces back and forth between cute and horribly annoying.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong asks.

“I’m not okay,” Donghyuck responds quietly. He’s staring down at the elevator floor.

“What’s wrong?” But oh, Taeyong already has some ideas. The little anxiety beast inside his stomach starts gnawing again.

“Can we get outside of the building before we talk about it? I don’t want... I don’t want anyone overhearing.”

It’s borderline creepy, seeing a generally upbeat friend so down. Taeyong clasps his hands together behind his back, squeezing hard enough for it to hurt.

They exit the building and walk half a block. Donghyuck stops near a led-illuminated tree on the sidewalk, the one Taeyong is never sure is actually real.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Donghyuck asks. There’s tears in his eyes, but he’s clearly angry.

“Warn you about what?” Taeyong asks.

“Don’t do that, don’t play dumb. Jiwoo told me everything.”

“Who is Jiwoo?”

Donghyuck uses his sleeve to angrily wipe at his tears. “Shit, does it matter? She used to be my intern, like, three interns ago. She was out with you last night. She told me everything, all the stuff Na Jamin said.”

Taeyong hesitates. “I just thought... I thought it would be better if I didn’t repeat that stuff to you. It was mean.”

“Yeah, it was. It was fucking awful. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about it? It would’ve been nice to get a heads up from my best friend.”

“I really didn’t think about it like that.”

“Right, you didn’t really think about it. I had to come into work and be ambushed by it. Those two cunts at my desk, you should’ve seen them gloating. And our department head is in on it, somehow?” Donghyuck actually starts crying now, face red with humiliation, and Taeyong pulls him to his chest, shielding him from the glances of curious passersby.

“It’s just that, Doyoung thought it would be best if I–”

“Fuck, Taeyong!” Donghyuck yells, pushing him away. “Do you just do everything Doyoung tells you to do?”

Taeyong shakes his head in self-defence, but his voice is devoid of strength. “I don’t do everything he tells me to do, what the fuck?”

“Yes, you do! You two are so weird together, it’s like he sucks all the life out of you.”

Taeyong is getting angry now. “How did this turn into an attack on Doyoung? What happened is not his fault.”

“No, he’s just happy to let them say ugly things about me. He was the third most senior person at that table, but the fucking intern had to point out they were being inappropriate.”

“Exactly, his boss and his boss’ boss were there. What did you expect him to say?” Taeyong huffs. “You’ve just always been against Doyoung. Why is that? It’s weird. Even in college, you wanted to break us up. I kept assuming you were joking, but you weren’t actually joking, were you?”

“Whatever,” Donghyuck says angrily, looking away.

“No, it’s not whatever. Do you know Doyoung doesn’t actually like you? Why do my best friend and my fiancé not like each other? That’s fucked up.”

“You don’t even love him,” Donghyuck says below his breath. Each word hurts all the same. “Not the way he loves you. When are you finally going to admit that?”

“That’s not true,” Taeyong says, crossing his arms. He feels cold.

It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation, he realises. There was a moment not long after he finally accepted Doyoung’s romantic advances, where Donghyuck had questioned Taeyong’s motivation for saying yes. Donghyuck had told him it was impossible to fake your way into happiness. Back then, Taeyong had taken it as vague commentary on their homophobic society. He’d taken it as encouragement. But now he sees it had been an attack all along.

“It’s not true,” he repeats, refusing to make eye contact. He turns around and walks back to their building, not looking back.

The office building is warm, and it smells good. Like carpet, paper, coffee. Like office. It feels like an invisible hug, and Taeyong shivers the cold away on the elevator ride to his floor.

There’s someone sitting in his seat. It’s the girl with the bob. She’s talking to Johnny, her shoulders pulled high, hands gesticulating wildly. Even from the back, Taeyong can tell she’s upset. He hesitates for a bit, not sure if he should approach them. But then she looks over her shoulder and spots him.

She shoots up and bows apologetically towards Taeyong. Johnny also stands up, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. He says something else to her, and she bows nervously at him and quickly walks away.

“Who was that?” Taeyong asks, dropping himself into his seat.

“Kim Jiwoo,” Johnny responds. “We used to intern together on one of the top floors, until she got promoted. She was out with us yesterday.”

“Right, I remember now,” Taeyong says, a little bitterly. Their brand new section chief, the one who had just royally fucked up his day because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Her gay brother killed himself in high school. He was fifteen. I knew about it, that’s why I was telling Jamin to tone it down.”

Taeyong just stares at him. Should Johnny be telling him this? It seems intensely personal.

Johnny sighs. “My kids are nine and ten, mostly. But so many of them talk about wanting to die. They act like they’re joking, but I’m not even sure if they are. It’s the pressure, I think... the pressure of always having to be perfect.”

A nine-year-old who considers suicide? Is it really that strange? Of course Taeyong had had days where he wanted to die, back when he was nine. Mostly on test days.

“Is it really that odd? I think about dying every day,” he blurts out. He’s not sure if he’s actually ever said that aloud before. It’s shameful, not really something he wants to admit.

Johnny frowns at him. And then reaches out and takes his hand, and gives it a little squeeze. “That shouldn’t be your normal, section chief Lee.”

Taeyong pulls his hand back, balling his hand into a fist. Johnny’s touch had shot through him like a bolt of lightning, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

“T-thank you,” Taeyong stutters.

“You’re welcome,” Johnny replies, looking at him for a few moments longer before going back to work. Several times that day, Taeyong catches Johnny observing him.

He sends Donghyuck several messages over the next couple of days, but he’s being left on read.

“Donghyuck hasn’t been responding to me,” he tells Doyoung, cuddled up to him in bed.

“That’s not his habit,” Doyoung notes. He’s reading a book about zoroastrianism, glasses perched on his nose. He looks incredibly sexy.

“No, it’s not.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. I’ve been seeing him around the office.” Because he’d gone to Donghyuck’s floor to check. He doesn’t say that part.

Doyoung puts his book down, looking at Taeyong through his perched glasses. “Then why isn’t he responding to you?”

Taeyong pouts. “We got into a fight. Kind of.”

“What about?”

“The stuff Jamin said.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Is he still on that.”

Taeyong feels irritation over Doyoung’s response, but he pushes it back down. He doesn’t want another fight. “It was hurtful.”

“He’s just mad because he knows she has a point.”

“I don’t think that’s why he’s upset,” Taeyong mutters. Jamin had aimed to humiliate Donghyuck.

“Maybe it will serve as a wake-up call to him. For his sake, I hope it will. He needs better performance numbers. Jamin has been advocating to let him go, and I can’t blame her.”

Instantaneously, Taeyong feels his anger building, hurt over the flippant way Doyoung discusses Donghyuck’s livelihood and future. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Since when has she been advocating for that?”

“Since that night, actually. I guess it brought her to some new insights.”

Taeyong sits up, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He’s full of anxious energy, needs some type of movement to keep it all in. “Baby, it’s because he’s queer. She’s just painting him in a bad light because she wants to get rid of him. You do see that, right? Please tell me you do.”

Doyoung gives him a compassionate look, the one that makes Taeyong want to scream. “Why do you insist on seeing a homophobic conspiracy everywhere? Jamin doesn’t know who Donghyuck has dated in the past, she has no clue. I’ve seen Donghyuck’s numbers. They’re bad. But everyone at the table was against her. It was embarrassing for her, and very unfair.”

“What are you talking about? The table agreed with her. The American is the only one who spoke up. He’s the one who embarrassed her. So why doesn’t she fire him?”

Doyoung shrugs, in a way that shows he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care. “She told me he delivers satisfactory work.”

Taeyong clenches his jaw, looking off to the side. “I don’t want to fight about this again.”

“Great, neither do I.” Doyoung goes back to his book, turning a page.

Taeyong feels like he’s the only one defending his corner. He wants to feel like Doyoung sides with him. He wants to feel close to him. He lies back down, going back to cuddling up to Doyoung’s side.

“I’m not in the mood,” Doyoung tells him curtly.

“That’s not– I wasn’t trying to get sex. I just want to cuddle.”

“The last ten times we’ve ‘cuddled’, it has turned into some type of argument about how you want me to fuck you harder. I don’t feel like going through all that again.”

“Doie, you’re being really unfair.”

“Well, you’ve been acting selfish lately. Maybe you should reflect on your actions, and how it’s been making me feel.”

That shuts Taeyong up. Has he been that selfish...? Maybe he has. He can’t really tell. He tries to remember individual instances, but it’s like fighting through a fog. Nothing stands out to him clearly. Just Doyoung, in this moment, disapproving of him. “I can’t really recall what you mean, but, I’m sorry? Of course I care about what you want.”

“Yeah, right,” Doyoung huffs, turning another page. “Words aren’t enough, Taeyong. You can’t tell me you’ll try harder, and then stay on the same path.”

Taeyong feels himself sinking away into self-doubt. What has he done that’s so bad? He doesn’t really know. “I’m sorry.”

Doyoung exhales lengthily, closing his book. “I can’t enjoy my book anymore, I’m gonna go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says with a small voice. He watches as Doyoung turns away from him, storing his book in his night stand and flicking off his bedside lamp.

Taeyong lies still for another minute or so, and then gets up and goes to sit in their living room, knees pulled up to his chest. He looks up at their graduation picture, observing the smiling faces. It feels like the image is mocking him. He remembers that day vividly, remembers the excitement and the promise that had hung in the air. His mom, secretly proud. His dad, kind of absent.

He used to have a close relationship with his father. They were best friends when he was growing up. That had changed while Taeyong was still in high school, and he can’t really recall what had prompted that change. He picks up his phone, scrolling through it. His thumb hovers over his dad’s phone number, hesitating. It’s late, he shouldn’t call him right now. And besides that, wanting to be soothed by a parent like this, isn’t it kind of childish? What is he supposed to say? Dad, am I doing the right thing? Dad, are you proud of me?

It’s too embarrassing. He can’t ask those things. And what if his father isn’t proud of him? Taeyong doesn’t think he could take it. He knows his mom is disappointed in him, but his father’s opinion is a mystery. Maybe not knowing is better.

He’s been aimlessly watching Youtube videos in the dark for at least an hour when a notification pops up.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
check this out

It’s a playlist featuring a bunch of Soundcloud rappers, only some of them familiar to Taeyong. He smiles, retrieving his airpods and settling in to listen. He’s transported back to his high school days, watching the clouds break open overhead on rainy days, the smell of tons of people packed together on public transit. Public transit is still like that, but Taeyong feels different about it now. He used to be more sensitive, back when he was a kid. His father used to call him a poetic soul.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
good?

lee taeyong
yes, thank you

He tacks on a sticker of a small chicken throwing an appreciative heart. Then he frowns at the sticker. Was sending a heart sticker too presumptuous? They weren’t really friends, were they?

Johnny sends him a thumbs up sticker as reply, which makes him feel more self-conscious. He puts his phone in the charger and goes to bed.

“Did you make that playlist just for me?” Taeyong asks, teasing. He’s having lunch with Johnny in a little noodle shop near their office. Donghyuck is still avoiding him like the plague, and Doyoung never wants to come out anymore, so when Johnny had invited him, it had been a relief. He likes how quiet his work space is, compared to the outside world. But he also enjoys a break from it.

Johnny pulls his eyebrows high, faking an offended expression. “Of course not. Conceited much? Just an old thing I had lying around.”

Taeyong laughs. He figured, but somehow, it’s kind of fun to tease Johnny. Maybe because he never takes it all that seriously.

Johnny smiles at him, the smile that makes his eyes disappear. He deposits a particularly big piece of beef from his bowl into Taeyong’s. “Alright, alright, you caught me. I did make it for you. Did you know any of the artists?”

Taeyong’s stomach does a little flip. He focuses on eating the beef strip. “Hm, maybe half?”

“Did you like the ones you didn’t know yet?”

“I haven’t listened to the whole thing yet.”

“Right, of course. You’re a busy man,” Johnny says with a smile, and goes back to shovelling food into his mouth. Is Johnny disappointed?

“I promise I’ll listen to it soon. I actually don’t know where the time goes? It’s like, I don’t even work that hard, and yet I’m always tired. When I get home, I’m just exhausted.”

Johnny nods, building up to a reply as he’s chewing and swallowing. “Hn, it’s like that, when you hate your job.”

Taeyong barks out a laugh, surprised, eyebrows drawn high. “I don’t hate my job.”

Johnny purses his lips at him. “There’s no need to play coy with me.”

“I mean, I don’t like it. Who likes their job? But I don’t hate it either.”

“Lots of people like their jobs. And I can see your face while you’re working, section chief Lee. It’s not just dislike.”

Taeyong smiles helplessly and shrugs. He doesn’t want to delve into this topic, not really. As long as he doesn’t admit his deepest feelings to himself, then he doesn’t have to deal with them. “You know, you can call me Taeyong, if you want. Like, we should probably stick to office decorum while we’re there, but... lately I feel like I’m section chief Lee in nearly every aspect of my life. It’s nice to just be Taeyong, sometimes.”

“What about me, am I going to be hyung? Do we use informal language?”

“Yeah, okay... Johnny-hyung,” Taeyong tests, and then ducks his head in embarrassment. It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate. Despite that, it fills him with elation. Or maybe he likes it because it’s not appropriate.

Johnny smiles. “Nice. I like speaking casually. I get called by my roles all day too, or by my Korean name. It’s been a bit alienating at times. I don’t really have any family in the city, so it’s like I’m in work modus all the time, like you said.”

Taeyong wants to mention that he does have family in Seoul – namely, Doyoung. But he hesitates. Johnny appears cool with gay people in theory, but what if it doesn’t extend to his friendships? What if it makes things weird between them? Like, what if Johnny constantly thinks Taeyong is lusting after him, or something. He twists the ring around his finger underneath the table, feeling negative feelings over hiding. It would be nice to have someone he can be open with, besides Donghyuck. Especially since Donghyuck always has something snide to say about his relationship. Like what was all that bullshit about Taeyong not really loving Doyoung? He loves Doyoung more than anyone else in the world, Doyoung is his person.

“Are you done eating?” Johnny’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he realises he’s just been sitting there, being quiet and weird. “I’ll go pay if you’re done.”

“No, sorry — I’m almost done. I got distracted.” He shoves a bunch of food in his mouth, chewing quickly.

Johnny nods, leaning his chin in his hand. “I’ve noticed you do a lot of daydreaming.”

Taeyong frowns with his cheeks full. “You’ve notished? That’sh bad.”

Johnny grins. “Yeah, and I’m definitely not the only one who’s noticed. Jamin is always complaining about you.”

A bolt of fear shoots through Taeyong. He’s going to get fired, and Doyoung will leave him because he’s a no-good fuck-up. He swallows his mouthful of food, wincing because it hasn’t been chewed enough. “She complains about me?”

“Don’t take it too seriously, now,” Johnny warns him, “she complains about everyone.”

Taeyong laughs incredulously. “Okay, no, she definitely has favourites.”

“I don’t think she does. She doesn’t even like me anymore, not after that little spat at dinner.”

“Doyoung– I mean, team leader Kim,” Taeyong counters, “he’s definitely a favourite.” No one could deny that, she got him promoted ahead of so many people.

“Dude, she hates team leader Kim. Says he’s always sending her emails all hours of the day. And she has to respond straight away, otherwise it’ll make her look bad. He cc’s the whole team every time. She can’t look less hardworking than him.”

Taeyong’s jaw drops.

Johnny isn’t done yet. “He asks for her feedback on even the smallest things, can’t complete any tasks by himself... doesn’t take initiative in projects.”

“That’s not true at all,” Taeyong says, still shocked, “he’s always coming up with proposals? Like, he’s always talking in meetings. He’s known for it.”

“Yeah, but have you noticed they’re always just Jamin’s ideas, but re-worded?” Johnny laughs. “It drives her crazy. I do get where she’s coming from, but she could just tell him to ease up a little bit.”

Taeyong can’t marry Johnny’s version of events to his own. “No, what— she was the one who appointed him for a promotion. She could have just left him behind if he annoys her that much? You must be confusing him with another Kim.”

Johnny shrugs. “I thought this was a badly kept secret, but apparently not. Team leader Kim’s father is close friends with one of the board members. He was going to get that promotion either way, but now Jamin looks good favouring a board favourite. That’s what she’s really upset about. She has to work non-stop to be taken seriously at all. Meanwhile, Doyoung is going to end up in the better paid position no matter what.

That must feel really double to her. She’s wise to keep Doyoung close, since he’s a guaranteed thing. It’s good to have an ally like him. But still. Must kinda eat her up inside.”

Taeyong can only stare at him. It’s not that he’s unaware of the nepotism that goes on in companies like his, it’s just such a stark contrast to everything he’s ever thought about Doyoung. Doyoung has the better job because he’s smarter, and he works harder. That’s the truth. Not these things Johnny is saying. It’s just more of Jamin’s fucked up gossip.

“Hey, did I upset you? That wasn’t my intention. I know you’ve known him since college.”

“I think it would be better if you stopped repeating things department head Na has told you in private.” He doesn’t say what he really thinks, which is that Jamin is a liar and a bully.

Johnny nods thoughtfully. “You’re right. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.”

Taeyong flushes. Johnny isn’t his superior, but he is his elder, and they’ve decided to be friendly. He shouldn’t have spoken so strongly. “No, I’m sorry. I got upset because she’s being kind of mean.”

Johnny smiles indulgently. “She kind of is. That’s what makes her hot.”

Taeyong can’t keep his curiosity in check anymore. It’s not like Johnny is being secretive about his admiration for her. “So you are seeing her?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said things fell apart when I went against her publicly. Incredible woman, though.” He looks at the clock on his phone. “Can I go pay? We’re going to be back late from lunch.”

“Yes, sorry, of course. But I’m getting us next time.”

“Next time?” Johnny asks, and the way he says it, it’s like Taeyong has propositioned him. Taeyong is about to clarify when Johnny cuts him off with a laugh, too loud for the small eatery they’re in. Heads turn to look at them, but their stares become indulgent once they see Johnny. Taeyong has noticed it before, the intrigued gleam in people’s eyes at the sight of such a tall and well-dressed man. Johnny has already confided in Taeyong that his office suits are off the rack, since most jobs he works require business casual at most. It had been senseless to invest in custom-made suits, even though that’s the office culture they work in.

But Johnny has a body that can make even a cheap suit look tailor-made. And even though Taeyong has contributed nothing to his appearance, he still feels a small burst of pride.

Doyoung places his phone down, and exhales slowly. They’re sitting at their kitchen island, drinking their morning coffees.

“What’s up?” Taeyong asks, looking up from his phone. Doyoung recently got him a newspaper packet subscription, so he keeps his screen tilted away from him, hiding the platform runner he’s been playing instead of doing something useful.

“Donghyuck is getting fired today.”

Taeyong gasps. “Who told you that?”

“Jamin. It was decided this morning, apparently. She just got approval from the department head.”

“Can you do something?” He feels queasy and panicked at the prospect of the emotional pain Donghyuck is about to go through, not to mention the financial insecurity.

Doyoung makes a face at him. “Why would I want to do something about it? Put my own reputation on the line to help someone who doesn’t care enough about the job to do it properly? I don’t think so.”

“Doyoung, please!” Taeyong pleads, trying to grab his hand.

Doyoung pulls his hand back. “No, stop it! I don’t owe Donghyuck anything, and I don’t want to be forced into it. I knew I shouldn’t have told you, jeez. I thought you’d keep it professional.”

Taeyong huffs in exasperation. “For fuck’s sake, why would I keep it professional? He’s one of my oldest friends, why wouldn’t I try to protect him?”

“It’s bad business practice,” Doyoung says coolly, “business should be about getting the job done, not who your friends are.”

Taeyong feels ire building within him at a dizzying speed. Johnny’s words are bouncing around in his head: Doyoung’s father is friends with the board. But that can’t actually be true, can it? Taeyong would have heard about something like that. Even if Doyoung doesn’t know — and he clearly doesn’t — there’s no way Taeyong’s mother wouldn’t know something like that. And if his mother learns about something she dislikes, everyone has to hear about it.

He takes a deep breath, shooting for calm but missing entirely. He’s pissed. “But business is not actually like that, so why are you acting so– you know what, nevermind. I can’t rely on you.”

Doyoung’s expression flickers from hurt to closed off. “Nice. Real mature.”

Taeyong gets up, and starts collecting his things. “You deserve it. I would do anything for someone important to you.”

Doyoung gets up too, stone-faced. “That’s an empty offer and you know it.”

“Is that my fault? I want to be close with your family. You won’t even let me hang out with your brother.”

“What would be the point? Do you want to see me disowned?”

“I was raised by a copy of your family, don’t act like I wasn’t. I wouldn’t out you, christ.”

Doyoung closes his eyes and rubs two fingers into his forehead, like he’s easing an ache there. “Look, I’m tired of arguing with you about this. Just go to work. And don’t tell Donghyuck, it’s not your place.”

“Sure thing,” Taeyong bites back, and goes to the bedroom to change into his work clothes, skipping the rest of his morning routine. He texts Donghyuck on the way to the nearest main street.

lee taeyong
I’m coming to get you with a cab

lee donghyuck
fuck off bumboy
don’t want your pity cab ride

It’s followed by a string of rude stickers.

lee taeyong
I’ll be there in twenty minutes

Donghyuck is waiting for him outside his apartment building, as expected. He climbs into the cab and throws Taeyong a foul look, while Taeyong gives directions to their office building.

“What do you want?”

Taeyong sits back, looking at him with trepidation. “I’m sorry for what I did. It was wrong, I should have told you.”

Donghyuck tilts his chin up, looking at him over the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. You should have.”

Taeyong takes a deep breath. “I just found out they’re going to fire you. It’s happening today.”

The expression of shock on Donghyuck’s face is brief, quickly replaced with neutral acceptance. “Hm, shitty of them. But I kind of saw it coming. Jamin has been on a crusade.”

“I can’t stand her.”

Donghyuck shrugs, looking out at the traffic crawling alongside their cab. “It’s whatever. I don’t even care anymore.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. He knows Donghyuck cares deeply, it’s annoying to have to navigate around his posturing. “Are you going to be okay on rent and stuff?”

“Yeah, sure, don’t worry about that.”

“Because your rent is really high.”

Donghyuck throws him an annoyed look. But it’s clear he’s not mad at Taeyong anymore. “I said, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, well. If you need help, you can ask me.”

“I will,” Donghyuck promises. “And hey... thanks for the heads up.”

They finish off the cab ride in silence, but linger in front of the building. This is probably the last time they’ll be in this place together, the strip of sidewalk where they’ve had breakfast together countless times.

“So was it Doyoung who told you? That I’m getting fired?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong confirms.

Donghyuck nods, kicking at the pavement. “Hm. Guess that asshole kinda cares about me after all.”

Taeyong doesn’t want to reply. He’s so angry with Doyoung, but... it’s just not like Doyoung, being this bitter, this hard. He’s not usually like this. Taeyong wants to believe he could still come around, and he doesn’t want to pit Donghyuck against him. But it’s yet another omission. And they already dislike each other anyways.

“I don’t think he does,” Taeyong says quietly, forcing himself.

Donghyuck frowns. “Taeyong, seriously: what is going on with you two?”

Taeyong exhales in frustration. “I don’t want to go down this road again. You wouldn’t get it, okay? You’ve never even been in a long-term relationship.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Yes I have.”

“What?” Taeyong says. “With who?”

“Mark.”

“Uh. You guys broke up ages ago.”

“No, we didn’t. He’s been my boyfriend this whole time. We had to press pause on some stuff while he’s wrapping things up back home, but we’re going to move in together. He’s flying out in two months’ time.”

“What? But you... you dated that girl. Taei? Something. That was definitely after college.”

Donghyuck nods, his expression stern. If Taeyong didn’t know any better, he’d think the younger was nervous. “I’m still seeing her. It’s semi-casual. I’m seeing both of them.”

Taeyong gapes, just staring at Donghyuck now.

“I was afraid of telling you. I figured you’d disapprove.” Donghyuck is avoiding eye contact, bouncing on his feet. He is nervous.

“I don’t get it. Are you cheating?”

“No! The three of us, we’re together. Okay?”

Taeyong blinks. That’s a thing people can do?

“Okay, look, I’m not going to explain my whole dating history to you right now, I have to go get fired. Just tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Taeyong replies automatically, and then pulls Donghyuck into a hug. Donghyuck hugs him back, his grip surprisingly strong. Usually he pretends he hates it. “Come by tonight? I’ll cook you some dinner.”

Donghyuck huffs. “What, and have Doyoung sitting there, shooting eye daggers at me? No thanks. I’m just gonna go home. It’s fine.”

“I can come to your place? I’ll cook dinner for you at yours.”

“Okay, fine, if you insist,” Donghyuck replies, like it’s a huge inconvenience to him. But there’s a small smile threatening to break through. “Is it okay if I invite Taei too? We usually hang out in the evenings.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s met Taei once, very briefly and in passing. She’d been on the way out just as he’d arrived at Donghyuck’s apartment, and it’d been months after that before he even realised she was more than just a friend. He looks forward to an opportunity to properly acknowledge her as the girlfriend, make her feel welcome.

“Kay. See you tonight. I’ll text you my new door code.” He turns and walks into their building, hands stuck into his pockets.

“Ya! Did you change your door code just because you were mad at me?”

Donghyuck doesn’t respond, just waves at him without looking back.

Donghyuck gets fired not an hour later, Taeyong learns through text. He’s about to reply to him when Johnny pulls an airpod from his ear and whispers: “Hey, did you hear? I just got a text from Donghyuck, he just got fired.”

Taeyong holds up his phone. “I got the same text.”

Johnny’s face becomes a tight mask of irritation. It’s a little bit scary. “Why did they fire him?”

“I’m not sure why,” Taeyong answers diplomatically, while typing out words of consolation to Donghyuck. Johnny likes Jamin. He doesn’t want to speak poorly of her, and risk making Johnny sad. And at this point, he isn’t sure why Donghyuck got fired. He has his own theory, but maybe he’s wrong...? Maybe he’s just projecting his own situation. That’s what Doyoung thinks, and Doyoung is usually right about these things.

Doyoung appears next to him so suddenly, Taeyong drops his phone in surprise. It clatters loudly against his desk.

“Company noraebang tonight, just letting you both know,” Doyoung says, his voice clipped. “The whole floor is coming, so you’d do well to show your faces.”

“I’m not available,” Taeyong says, picking his phone back up and checking it for damage.

Doyoung lowers his voice, leaning over Taeyong. “I’m not having this argument with you. I won’t have you making me look bad.”

Taeyong looks up at him, giving him an angry look. “I said I’m not going. I promised Donghyuck I’d stop by at his place.”

Doyoung exhales in frustration, his voice becoming milder. “Donghyuck got himself fired, and I don’t want the same thing happening to you. Do you understand?”

Taeyong places his hands down on his desk, to hide the way they’re shaking. He’s quiet for a few seconds. “I promised.”

“He’ll understand. Just come to the event.” With that, Doyoung walks away.

Johnny had courteously put his airpod back in while Taeyong was getting scolded by the boss, but it’s obvious he heard every word regardless. How could he not, they’re sitting right next to each other. He pats a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder, and Taeyong silently wishes his body would stop responding so strongly to being touched by his co-worker. It’s unseemly.

“You know you don’t have to go to noraebang, right? If you don’t want to. He can’t make you. He was being pretty rude.”

“Please don’t interfere? It’s good that I go. I have to think of my future.” Taeyong goes back to work, but Johnny’s remark has put him on edge. He really doesn’t like it when people criticise Doyoung, and lately, it seems to be happening more and more.

“What about your friend?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s fine. I’ll go for an hour, I can go see Donghyuck after.”

“Alright, alright.” Johnny gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’ll go too. Someone has to look out for your anxious ass.”

Taeyong looks at Johnny out of the corner of his eye. It’s a weirdly thoughtful offer.“You don’t have to go just for my sake.”

Johnny squeezes his shoulder. (It’s only been a minute since Johnny last touched him, so this one doesn’t shock his system as much. It feels good. Grounding.) “But you want me to.”

Taeyong nods, slowly. Yes, he wants it. He likes spending time with Johnny.

“Then it’s settled.”

Taeyong gives him a little nod, and waits until Johnny has gone back to work. He finishes his text to Donghyuck, and then texts Doyoung.

lee taeyong
Baby, I’m really nervous about noraebang. It’s such a big group, I’m worried it’s going to be too busy for me

Kim Doyoung
I’ll look after you, so stop worrying already

lee taeyong
Ok. Thank you. I’m sorry.

Kim Doyoung
It’s okay. I know you mean well, but you can be a lot sometimes. Love you too

Taeyong tries to leave noraebang several times, and every time, Doyoung talks him into staying. He’s apologised to Donghyuck over text, who’s told him it’s fine; he’s hanging out with Taei and they’ve ordered fried chicken.

Taeyong’s nerves are also fried, because it’s been hours. He sits stiffly while song after song is sung at top volume, observing his wild and boisterous colleagues in silence. He’s trying to drown out the assault of sound by keeping his breathing slow and even, and by having a shot at regular intervals. Johnny is sitting next to him, his thigh pressed against Taeyong’s, and sings along whenever the mic is passed to him. He also sings when the mic gets passed to Taeyong, explaining it away with a smile and a lie; that Taeyong has lost his voice due to a cold.

Taeyong’s focus is on Doyoung. Doyoung, who is sitting a couple of people down from him. He’s been schmoozing with Jamin all evening. Taeyong understands schmoozing is the point of these events, and Doyoung is doing what he’s supposed to be doing. But, he’d promised he’d look after Taeyong. There’s something small and hurt and confused inside of him. He feels childish, but also abandoned. He feels stupid.

He gets up, and Doyoung throws him a warning look.

“Bathroom,” Taeyong mouths at him.

The hallway is a relief. It’s quieter, and cool, and empty. He makes it five steps, and then crouches, sticking his head between his knees. His heart is beating very fast, and he feels — bad. Ill.

The door opens again, and Taeyong doesn’t bother looking up. He knows it’s Doyoung, here to talk him back into the room.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks.

Taeyong shakes his head.

“Okay, you’ve been put through enough of this, I think. I’m taking you home.”

Taeyong shakes his head again. Doyoung will be angry. Taeyong is always fucking up.

Johnny grabs him by the upper arm, pulling him to his feet. He already has Taeyong’s jacket, and is putting it on him. “You’re a wreck and I’m taking you home. What kinda hyung would I be if I didn’t?”

Taeyong tries to refuse again, he really does. But the thought of being in his own space again, in the dark, in absolute quiet... he wants that so bad. “Okay,” he whispers, and continues staring down at the floor. Johnny is right, is the thing. He stayed too long, he’s too far gone.

“Good boy,” Johnny says.

Taeyong takes a deep breath, and doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing. He lets Johnny put him into a cab, lets Johnny repeat his address after Taeyong mutters it to him. He lets Johnny guide him up the stairs, and punch the door code in, after Taeyong messes it up enough times that the door temporarily locks itself. His fingers aren’t talking to his brain anymore.

Johnny helps Taeyong back out of his coat, placing a hand to Taeyong’s cheek. “You’re freezing. Where’s your thermostat?”

Taeyong points to where it’s hidden behind the front door, next to the doorbell. Johnny fiddles with it, and Taeyong wanders away, going for the kitchen. He should drink a glass of water before he goes to bed.

The glass slips from his clumsy fingers as he’s trying to fill it, and falls into the sink. It doesn’t break, but the sound is so sharp, so unexpected. Taeyong crouches behind his kitchen island, placing his hands over his ears, and rocks back and forth.

Johnny comes find him, and continues helping him. He fills up a glass of water for him, and helps him drink it. At this point, Taeyong is mortified, but he can’t fix it. He can’t even pretend to be normal. The water helps, though. He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to get a grip. “I’m sorry,” he says, still staring at the floor.

“Don’t say that. You did great.”

“Can I have my phone for a second?”

Johnny retrieves it for him, and goes to sit on the couch while Taeyong texts.

lee taeyong
I’m home

His message gets read immediately, but it takes a couple of minutes before Doyoung responds. Taeyong stares at the screen anxiously, biting the inside of his cheek.

Kim Doyoung
I’ll be home in an hour or so

lee taeyong
Okay. Sorry. Love you

There’s no response. Taeyong puts his phone down, placing his shaking hands into the pockets of his slacks. It’s fine. Nothing too bad happened. They can talk this out later. Doyoung will understand.

Johnny is back. Standing close enough that Taeyong can feel his body heat. “Why do you have a picture of team leader Kim on your wall?”

Taeyong takes a deep breath, and looks up at Johnny. His eyes aren’t dark brown. They’re a lighter shade. How is he only noticing that now? Has he never really looked into Johnny’s eyes before? They’re kind of arresting.

“Doyoung is my boyfriend.”

Johnny cups Taeyong’s face in his hand, and leans in close. So, so close. His voice is a warm murmur. “Wish I’d known that sooner.”

“Why?” Taeyong asks, jittery. He knows damn well why, but even now, he can’t believe this is actually happening. What could a man like Johnny want with a nervous wreck like him.

“Because then I wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about kissing you.”

Taeyong can’t reply. His stomach is doing somersaults. A little voice inside his mind is screaming, he doesn’t even know what. He’s not even sure he’s breathing.

When Johnny’s lips brush against his, a teasing light touch, Taeyong feels like he’s transported to one of those cheesy scenes in a romance movie. Because this feels exactly like what those look like. Everything around him falls away, melting into the background. There’s only Johnny.

He kisses him back, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s shoulders. Johnny moans, and lifts him up onto the kitchen counter, spreading his legs so he can slot in between them. Their kiss goes from hesitant to frenzied, and it feels so intense that it shocks him. He’s kissed Doyoung thousands of times, and not once has it felt even halfway close to this.

Johnny’s kisses are hard, invasive. His touches are too. It’s intoxicating. Taeyong locks his ankles over Johnny’s ass, trying to get him to come closer. He never wants this moment to end.

Johnny pushes up against him, pushes the hard length of his cock into Taeyong’s groin. Taeyong gasps, once again shocked by his own level of arousal. An overwhelming urge shoots through him: he wants to see that beautiful cock, feel it. Taste it.

“Can I take you to bed?” Johnny pants, their noses brushing together.

Taeyong nods quickly, trying to push Johnny away so he can walk to the bedroom. But Johnny lifts him up instead, eliciting a gasp from Taeyong, and carries him effortlessly. Taeyong rains kisses down onto Johnny’s face, while muttering directions. “Last door. Fuck– hurry.”

He’s thrown onto the bed, and lifts his hips, fighting to get his slacks off. He gets the zipper undone, but the stupid little button isn’t cooperating, or his fingers aren’t, or his brain isn’t. He can’t undo it.

Johnny does it for him, by just ripping the button clean off, and yanking his slacks off his legs. Taeyong moans and rolls onto his stomach, pushing his boxer briefs below his ass cheeks.

“Look at you, just look at you,” Johnny is muttering, as he crawls onto the bed. He sounds awed.

Taeyong moans when he hears Johnny unzipping, when he feels his bare cock against his ass. He has a sinking realisation. “Please say you have condoms. Oh my god, please?”

“Yeah, I have one,” Johnny mutters, while kissing the back of one of Taeyong’s ears. And then he bites down on the earlobe, not hard, but hard enough for it to sting. Everything inside of Taeyong is set ablaze.

“Ah!” Taeyong cries, more because he’s surprised than because it hurt.

Johnny presses a kiss to his ear, an apology. “Sorry. No biting?”

“No, shut up, bite me more,” Taeyong whispers back. He’s shaking.

Johnny chuckles, and nips his ear again, a little harder this time.

“Ah, fuck, hurry,” Taeyong pants, looking over his shoulder.

“Lube?”

Taeyong points at his nightstand. “In the drawer.”

While Johnny rolls the condom on, Taeyong kicks his underwear off the rest of the way. He tries to roll onto his stomach again, but Johnny forces him onto his back, and kisses him again. “No, baby. Let me look at you while I do this.”

Taeyong goes through a full-body shiver. Fuck, he’s going through a religious experience. The attraction he feels is so strong, it’s like he’s been turned into a human magnet. Johnny drizzles lube onto his fingers, and then pushes them into Taeyong, while finding his mouth for another bruising kiss. He’s not gentle, not even close. Taeyong’s moaning kicks up a level — he couldn’t have kept it in even if he’d wanted to.

“Hnn– harder,” he begs against Johnny’s lips, and then briefly freezes, so used to getting a negative response to that request.

But, oh. Johnny starts fucking him harder, fingers making squelching noises as they get pressed into his hole over and over. Taeyong makes a high-pitched, mindless noise, and then again, and again. There’s only one single thought left in his brain. That it’s good. Earth-shatteringly good.

When Johnny pulls his fingers out and lines himself up to push in, Taeyong is clawing at Johnny’s shoulder blades, willing him to go faster. Johnny grunts and pushes into him, ramming home in one thrust. Then he rips Taeyong’s shirt open, decimating at least a few more of Taeyong’s buttons.

Taeyong makes a sound he didn’t know he was capable of making. His nails dig into Johnny’s shoulders, and he lifts his head for a bite-y kiss.

Johnny laughs into the kiss, shoving Taeyong down against the mattress. “Look at you, fuck, look at you. Knew you’d be feisty in bed.”

Taeyong whines sharply, digging a heel into Johnny’s ass.

“Shh, I know. It’s okay. I’ll give it to you.”

And he does. He fucks Taeyong with long, strong strokes. Bottoms out every time, with a slap, the impact of being filled so deeply shooting through Taeyong’s nervous system, overloading it with tingly pleasure. It’s mind-numbing. All he cares about is Johnny, Johnny inside of him, working his guts open.

“Hyung,” Taeyong cries. He’s actually crying, he realises. He doesn’t know why, he feels incredible.

“Good?” Johnny grunts — panting, biting Taeyong’s lips, as he continues fucking into him.

“Perfect, perfect,” Taeyong babbles, grabbing handfuls of Johnny’s hair and tugging at it. Johnny does the same to him, grabbing a fistful and yanking. It hurts, a sharp jab of pleasure-pain that weaves through the pleasure he’s already experiencing.

“Uhnn,” Taeyong grunts, scratching his fingernails over one of Johnny’s pecs. Johnny grins at him, and gives Taeyong’s chest a sharp slap in return. It elicits another high-pitched noise from Taeyong. Johnny is always stupidly beautiful, but it’s heightened now, his usually perfectly combed hair hanging over his forehead, dark with sweat. He must be so hot, hasn’t undressed. But it’s hot that he hasn’t.

Then Johnny hugs him closer, and starts ramming into him. Taeyong’s toes curl and stretch, and he arches his back. He’s quiet, because he can’t take a breath.

Johnny comes with a grunt, digging his teeth into Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong gasps, and expects things to end. But instead Johnny keeps going, sitting back on his haunches and keeping Taeyong lifted by his hips. Taeyong is staring at him with a slack jaw, breathing out his pleasure every time Johnny thrusts into him.

“Touch yourself. Wanna see it,” Johnny commands.

Taeyong’s hand shoots for his erection. He jerks himself off with uneven, clumsy strokes, because he can barely control his hands. Everything is misfiring in his brain. But it doesn’t matter. This is the best fuck of his life.

Johnny lets him go at it for a while, staring him down while continuing to slam into him. Taeyong feels excavated, transfixed, pinned by Johnny’s gaze. He feels like prey, except he wants to be captured.

When he’s not successful in getting himself off, Johnny pulls out, and buries his head in between Taeyong’s legs. He sucks him off strongly, his molars brushing against Taeyong’s glans. Taeyong is writhing in the sheets, tugging on his own hair, panting and repeatedly crying out Johnny’s name. He comes with a scream, curling in on himself, holding Johnny’s head.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he chants in rapid succession, because he can’t take it anymore. All his nerves are overloaded. He flops back down on the mattress when Johnny pulls off, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

Johnny crawls over him. He grabs hold of Taeyong’s jaw and pries it open, and spits Taeyong’s own release into his mouth.

Taeyong’s eyes go glassy, a reedy moan escaping him as he stares up at Johnny, his jaw still slack.

“Swallow,” Johnny instructs him, brushing some of the come that landed on Taeyong’s lower lip into his mouth.

Taeyong swallows, and opens his mouth again. Johnny spits into it again. Taeyong swallows that too, and then begs for more. It’s humiliating. But good. He’s acting without thinking, and it’s good.

Johnny rolls the condom off, and holds it over Taeyong’s mouth. An offer. Taeyong grabs Johnny’s wrist, pulling his hand closer. Johnny lets the contents of the condom drip into Taeyong’s mouth, and Taeyong swallows that too.

“Can’t believe you,” Johnny praises him, capturing his lips for another kiss, bent in half. And then he pushes his cock into Taeyong’s mouth. He’s still half hard, and Taeyong moans as he sucks him off, balling his hands into fist.

“Gonna use that pretty little mouth to make me come again?” Johnny whispers, petting his hair.

Taeyong whines in response, pushing his head down further. Johnny is already getting harder again. Taeyong knows some men have shorter refractory periods, but he’s still surprised. Johnny ruts his hips in short little movements, causing Taeyong to gag. He tugs on Taeyong’s hair, pulling him off his cock.

“Lie with your head over the edge of the bed, baby. I don’t want to damage your throat.”

That word. That word. It’s like Johnny read the playbook on what makes Taeyong tick. He scoots closer to the edge, following Johnny to where he steps off the bed, looking at him upside down. “Please call me baby again.”

“You like that?” Johnny asks, his hand gently stroking Taeyong’s throat, his jawline. “Baby boy.”

Taeyong visibly shivers. “Yeah,” he whispers. He’s also getting hard again, he realises. Not very, but there’s chub. His nipples are hard. His whole body feels on.

“Open your mouth, hm?”

Taeyong opens up, and Johnny bends over him, and carefully slides his cock down his throat. He pushes in until Taeyong is stuffed, and then keeps going. Presses the head of his dick past Taeyong’s throat, into his gullet, forcing him to accept it.

Taeyong’s throat spasms, and fights the intrusion. But it can’t expel Johnny, who is holding Taeyong’s head with a strong grip, and keeps pressing in, until his pubes are brushing Taeyong’s chin.

“Good boy, fuck, you’re so good” Johnny mutters, as Taeyong fights down an involuntary convulsion, fights to remain relaxed and still. If his throat wasn’t full of dick, he would’ve moaned.

I’m good, I’m good, he thinks, and for once, fully believes it. And it feels incredible, after years of believing the opposite.

Johnny fucks his throat just as good as when he fucked him in the ass. He goes slower, and pauses occasionally, to let Taeyong catch his breath. But not as often as Taeyong’s body wants. The oxygen deprivation is making his heart race in his chest, heightening his pleasure.

This is what he was made for. Being forced to take cock. This is what happiness feels like.

When Johnny comes down his throat, shoved so deep that Taeyong doesn’t taste a drop of it, his disappointment is almost as great as his satisfaction. He wants to keep pleasuring Johnny.

Johnny pulls his zipper up and kneels in front of him, and then gives him an upside-down kiss. It’s deep, it’s full of feeling. Taeyong is smiling so hard that he almost can’t kiss him back.

“I have to go,” Johnny mutters. He sounds torn.

Like he’s stepped into a waterfall, Taeyong is doused in a cold rush of guilt and regret, as the reality of his actions creep in. Doyoung. Doyoung.

He tries to get up, and discovers his legs won’t support him. His body feels like a huge piece of gelatin, but in a good way, which makes him feel even guiltier. He leans against Johnny, who pulls him up higher and embraces him, and gives him a kiss that’s urgent and strong. Taeyong understands, because he feels the exact same way. Against all reason, he doesn’t want Johnny to go.

“Tomorrow?” Johnny asks, holding his face, looking into his eyes. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“We don’t have work tomorrow,” Taeyong says stupidly.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll text you my address.”

This is probably where he should say that this can never happen again. “Okay,” he whispers.

Johnny gives him another kiss, and then he’s gone, his heavy footfall going through the apartment. The front door falls shut, singing its happy little jingle as it locks again.

Taeyong lies down on his back, and tries to regulate his breathing. He curls onto his side, and presses his hands to his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the fuck did you do that? Piece of shit, you’re a piece of shit.”

He knows why. Unhappiness, combined with raw sexual attraction, so strong that it’s stupid. He’s been doing everything in his power to ignore it, and it’s worked to some extent. But every time Johnny has been near him, it’s like he can physically feel the pull, making his knees go weak and his stomach weird. He didn’t know feelings like these could exist in real life, he really didn’t. He thought it was just exaggerations, things found in books and in movies, pretty lies made up for amusement.

Is this why Donghyuck has been telling him being engaged to Doyoung is wrong? Maybe he has a point. If this is what Doyoung feels for him? Christ.

When he gets the feeling back in his legs, he stumbles into the shower, quickly scrubbing himself clean. He puts on a pair of pyjamas that cover him from his neck to his ankles, to try and hide the marks Johnny left on him. Then he changes the sheets, hunts down every button that came off his suit, and loads up the humidifier with essential oil.

In the end, his attempts to hide what he did barely matter. Doyoung comes home much later than he’d said, drunk as a skunk and no longer capable of stringing a sentence together. He flops down on their bed with all his clothes still on and is asleep within seconds.

Taeyong takes a seat next to him on the bed, looking at Doyoung’s sleeping face. He’s always pretty, but especially so when he sleeps, when all his features are relaxed. Then Doyoung starts snoring very loudly, and Taeyong hides his face in his hands, fighting back tears. Even the awful drunk snoring is endearing, he’d miss even that.

He’s going to lose him. He’s done something awful enough that when he tells Doyoung, the thing they have will end. And all that stands between now and that moment, is the single sentence that’s currently sitting in Taeyong’s mouth.

Doie. I cheated on you.

He should tell him. He should tell him right now. Wake him up and tell him. But he can’t bring himself to. The thought of losing Doyoung feels unbearable. They’ve been a team for so many years now. Supported each other, know everything about each other. Taeyong loves him more than he loves himself (especially in this moment).

“Doie,” he says, shaking Doyoung’s shoulder.

“Hmmr,” Doyoung groans, smacking his lips and trying to roll away from him.

“You should drink some water. Put on some pyjamas?”

“Fuck that,” Doyoung mutters.

“Babe, seriously. You’re gonna feel like garbage tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” Doyoung assures him. Taeyong waits a few seconds, and the silence is immediately filled with Doyoung’s renewed snoring.

Taeyong crawls in between the sheets, at a loss for what else to do. He should be exhausted, after the evening he’s had. But it takes him a while to fall asleep. There’s bursts of butterflies in his stomach, and despite his fear and how guilty he feels, he has to fight down a smile whenever an ache in his body reminds him of what he did with Johnny.

There’s no longer any point in denying it to himself: he’s in love.

He wakes up after barely three hours of sleep, but feels refreshed and in good spirits. There’s a message from Johnny waiting for him, his address and a heart sticker. Doyoung is still solidly passed out, snoring and reeking of alcohol. He looks vulnerable in the daylight, and Taeyong lingers by his side for a while, hesitating.

He doesn’t know what he’s hesitating for. He’s not going to wake up Doyoung. It’s just that they usually spent their Saturdays together. Even if it was nothing more than sitting side by side and working from home, they were always together. It feels weird to leave him behind.

He hums as he changes into a casual outfit, t-shirt and shorts. He runs down to the convenience store, picking up a couple of bottles of hangover cure. Leaves them on their kitchen counter with a handwritten note.

Went to the jjimjilbang. Drink these, feel better 💚

He hesitates by their front door. He could just trash the note and crawl back into bed. Be there when Doyoung wakes up.

Then he thinks of Johnny, of being in his arms again, and walks out the door.

He’s already almost at Johnny’s apartment, having scaled the hill to reach his ancient Yongsan neighbourhood, when he realises it’s still insanely early and he should probably have asked about when he could come over. He’d just been so eager, he didn’t think twice.

lee taeyong
Uhhh I’m outside your building. Is that weird?

The reply is instantaneous, making Taeyong grin.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
No get up here. I’m on the second floor

The relief of being back in Johnny’s arm is so immense, it surprises him. He smiles at him, couldn’t stop if he wanted to, pushing his fingers through Johnny’s shower-damp hair. Johnny is even prettier early in the morning, when his eyes are still puffy with sleep, before he’s shaved.

“Missed you,” Taeyong murmurs.

“Missed you too,” Johnny replies. He’s mirroring Taeyong’s stupid grin.

He’s taken to bed. Johnny’s apartment is kind of in disrepair, but Taeyong barely notices. He doesn’t care. All he cares about is that Johnny is taking his clothes off.

“You look cute in casual wear,” Johnny says, while shucking his shorts down his hips.

“Cute? Not good enough,” Taeyong informs. He arches his back and fights his way out of his t-shirt, and then kicks off his underwear.

“You look radiant,” Johnny amends. He takes off his own clothes, and gets on top of Taeyong, capturing his mouth in a brief kiss. Then he lifts himself up, looking down at Taeyong’s body. “Fuck, look at you. You’re fucking perfect.”

Taeyong squirms, loving the compliments and having Johnny’s full attention, but also feeling a bit self-conscious. “Okay, no need to go overboard either.” He’s not average, but Johnny is built like a Greek statue (with the exception of his dick).

“Baby, I’m not lying to you,” Johnny says empathically, tracing a hand down Taeyong’s side. “From the first time I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

Taeyong flushes down to his chest, lifting his arms to wrap around Johnny’s broad back, pulling him down for another kiss. Such sweet words. He desperately wants to believe them.

They make love again, and it’s less frenzied than their first time, but not by much. Johnny squeezes, bites, slaps. He’s adding to the bruises Taeyong has already gotten from him, like he has every right to do that. And maybe Taeyong should protest it, but he can’t. He’s been denied exactly this, all those years. He wants it so bad.

After Johnny’s done fucking his hole, he eats him out. Taeyong is on elbows and knees, whimpering into the sheets. It’s just Johnny’s fingers and tongue, but it feels like he’s going so deep.

“Can I spank you?” Johnny asks, his mouth still on Taeyong.

“Yeah, okay,” Taeyong agrees. He’s never really been spanked before, and is expecting Johnny to put him across his lap, or something. Instead Johnny sits back on his knees, and hits Taeyong with the flat of his hand. Hard.

Taeyong falls onto his stomach, moaning helplessly. It was almost too hard to still feel good, but he still liked it so much.

“Again,” he begs breathlessly, bunching up fistfuls of Johnny’s sheets, dragging them closer.

Johnny hits him again, on the other side this time. Taeyong keens, and bites down on the sheets. Then Johnny’s tongue is back, fucking into him, and Taeyong starts sobbing. He’s so overloaded with pleasure, he can’t do anything but take it.

Johnny hits him a couple more times in between eating him out, until Taeyong screams when he’s slapped the final time. Then he stops, rubbing soothing hands over Taeyong’s back.

“Still doing okay, baby?”

“Umnh, uh-huh,” Taeyong sniffles. He looks over his shoulder, gaze lidded. He feels drunk, and his words come out slurred as if he were. “I’m sssooo okay, feel so good, it feels so good.”

“My baby boy. Good boy,” Johnny tells him in a gentle voice. Taeyong rubs his tears away, but keeps hugging the sheets. He wishes he had a pillow to hold, but they must have fallen off the bed while they were fucking. He tries to ask for one, but the words won’t come.

“Don’t move. I’ll get you some aloe vera.”

Johnny rubs the cooling gel into his sore skin, with firm and certain hands. Taeyong starts shivering. He’s not cold, the apartment is a pleasant temperature, he just feels so... he doesn’t know what the word for it is.

Johnny lies down next to him, and pulls him close, covering them both with a thin sheet. Being covered and held helps, and Taeyong stops shivering. He nuzzles Johnny’s chest.

“Better?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah. Thank you,” Taeyong says quietly, lifting his head so he can look at Johnny.

“Was it too much?”

“No. It was perfect.”

Johnny smiles down at him. “Okay. Tell me if something isn’t right. I’ll fix it.”

Taeyong stares up at him. He’s too overcome to speak. He’s spent years asking for even a taste of this kind of sex, has spent years feeling like a dumb freak for desiring it. And Johnny gives it to him freely. And wants to fix things for him. It feels so different to how Doyoung approaches things.

He goes back to hugging Johnny, his ear pressed to his chest, feeling horribly guilty for thinking of Doyoung at all. Whether he feels guilty towards Doyoung or Johnny, he can’t tell. He can hear the even beat of Johnny’s heart, deep in his chest, and listens to it. He doesn’t realise he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, when Johnny wakes him with a kiss. They look into each other’s eyes, but neither of them speak. Taeyong loves Johnny’s eyes.

“I think I should go,” he says after some time. “Doyoung is probably waking up by now.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything, but Taeyong can sense the shift in his mood.

“I’ll see you Monday at work?” Taeyong adds, a little too upbeat. He doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay with Johnny. It feels so good to just exist together, skin to skin.

“Yeah,” Johnny says. He sounds sad. Or maybe Taeyong just wants him to sound sad. Taeyong has a crush, but that doesn’t mean Johnny feels the same way. They exchange a final kiss by Johnny’s front door, and then Taeyong is running down the hill, his plastic slippers loud against the asphalt. When he reaches the bigger roads at the bottom of the hill, he hugs a bus pole, and screams wordlessly, unable to keep it in anymore. A few pedestrians briefly look his way, but they keep walking. Taeyong doesn’t even notice them, too busy trying to get a grip on his emotions.

Johnny, I love you, I’m so in love with you!

He actually stops by a jjimjilbang on his way home, to take a quick shower. The t-shirt was a wrong choice, because the low neck reveals the fresh bruises he has on his throat, where Johnny gave him hickeys. It had felt divine in the moment, but now... should he be mad about it? It’s like Johnny wants to ruin his relationship. What are they doing? What is he doing?

He sneaks into the apartment. Doyoung is under the shower, and the little bottles of hangover cure are sitting empty on their kitchen island. Taeyong goes through his closet, unearthing a sweater Doyoung had gifted him a long time ago. It has a high collar, and it covers the evidence of what he did with Johnny perfectly. He pairs it with sleek black pants, and then goes to take a seat on their couch.

Johnny has sent him another sticker. A little dog hugging a heart. Taeyong grins like an idiot over it. He’s pondering what kind of sticker he should respond with, when Doyoung walks out of their bathroom, with just a towel slung around his waist.

“Hey, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” Taeyong says with a smile.

“What are you wearing? It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Taeyong says, and flushes with nerves, “just an old sweater.” He goes back to scrolling through his phone. How does he usually act? He has no clue. It feels like everything about him screams I JUST GOT FUCKED.

“Let me get dressed, and then maybe we could go out for lunch?”

“Oh?” Taeyong says, pleasantly surprised. He can’t remember the last time Doyoung took him out on a date.

“Yeah. You look really pretty in that sweater. Let’s go show everyone else.”

Taeyong doesn’t know what to say. Who is this person? It’s almost like the Doyoung from all the way in the beginning of their relationship, the guy who used to bring him flowers, and would sing sappy serenades at noraebang, his eyes never leaving Taeyong’s. He’d been such a romantic.

“O-okay, yeah. Yeah. That sounds really fun, actually. Aren’t you hungover?”

Doyoung grins guiltily. “When I woke up, I thought I was going to die. Anyways, I took a really strong painkiller and had a long shower. And I had some water. I feel better now. Thank you for those hangover cures by the way, I really think they helped.”

Doyoung takes him to a brunch place, newly opened, French themed. He orders a whole spread for them. There’s croissants and fancy jams and cheeses, sparkling wine and fresh orange juice. Little round breads that are crunchy and still warm from the oven. And, for some reason, Nutella.

“Do French people eat Nutella?” Taeyong asks, “I thought that stuff was American.”

“I dunno,” Doyoung shrugs, sipping his glass of wine.

Taeyong eats the Nutella first, spreading it over his warm bread and moaning when he bites into it. “Why doesn’t Nutella taste like this at home? What the fuck.”

Doyoung laughs. “All this, and you went for the candy spread.”

“Don’t judge me!” Taeyong whines, “I like sweet things.”

He eats a lot, ravenous after all that sex. Doyoung is a little more conservative, picking at a croissant, mainly focusing on his glass wine. “Hair of the dog,” he mutters. He looks kinda queasy.

“Are you sure we should have come out? Is your hangover bothering you?”

“I brought another painkiller, don’t worry about me. Eat. It’s nice to watch you eat. You do it so deliciously.”

Taeyong looks at him for a few moments longer. “Okay, tell me why we’re really here. You hate how I chew.”

Doyoung sighs, sinking further into his seat. “I felt bad, okay? When I woke up this morning and you were gone, and I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, I just felt like... I haven’t been very nice to you, lately. I’ve been acting like an asshole.”

“Don’t say that.” Taeyong doesn’t like it when Doyoung berates himself. When they were younger, he’d berate himself several times a day, and it would always make Taeyong sad.

“No, it’s the truth. And I’m sorry. I love you, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You just... you want to deliver good work. I understand. I want the same thing.”

“I know you do. But I think you’ve been trying to tell me that work shouldn’t be everything, and I’ve just been ignoring you. And that’s not fair on you.”

Taeyong puts his bread down. “Where is all of this coming from? Did something happen at noraebang, last night?”

Doyoung blows his fringe from his eyes and avoids eye contact.

Taeyong sighs. “Just tell me.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “You always see right through me. It’s not a good quality.”

“Do I even want to know?”

Doyoung exhales heavily. “I think you can guess what happened.”

Taeyong is starting to feel a little bit on edge. “I’m not sure that I do?”

“The short of it is that Jamin said an incredible amount of mean shit about you, as soon as you’d left.”

Taeyong frowns, looking down at his food. It’s not unexpected, but it still hurts.

“I let her go on for a while, and it just got worse and worse. Everyone was just going along with it; I think that one intern had already left, the one with the mouth on him. Finally, I told her she’d said enough, and we should just focus on singing more. And then she exploded at me, and said an incredible amount of mean shit about me. She called me incompetent and chaebol-adjacent trash.”

“Oh,” Taeyong says listlessly. He wonders what she’d said about him, but at the same time, he really doesn’t want to know. It’ll just keep bouncing around in his head.

“I’ll be filing a complaint on her. She went too far.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says, hesitant. Should he feel grateful? He’s really not sure Doyoung is doing this for his sake. It sounds like it’s mainly his own ego that has gotten hurt. Maybe this would have meant something if he’d done it before Donghyuck lost his job.

“And I’m thinking of moving you to another floor. Somewhere where no one knows what was said.”

Taeyong shakes his head, resolute. Johnny is right: he hates his stupid job. And he won’t be backed into a corner by a bunch of immature bullies that work there. Fuck them. “No, don’t bother. Let them talk.”

“It would be better for you. Just trust me.”

“I said I didn’t want it. I like our floor, I’m used to it. It’s going to be the same on every floor. Just leave it.”

Doyoung grimaces. “Why won’t you let me take care of you?”

Taeyong huffs. “Because it’s not what I want? Thank you for offering, but why are you pressing me on this?”

Doyoung falls silent for a few moments. “I don’t want to fight. Let’s not fight.”

The tension bleeds from Taeyong’s shoulders. “You’re right, I’m sorry... I’m sorry she said mean things to you, Doie. I know you looked up to her.”

Doyoung shrugs. “Yeah, well. Not anymore.”

When they get home, Doyoung insists on putting new sheets on the bed, and insists on doing it by himself, saying he made them reek and so it’s his responsibility. And he’ll vacuum while he’s at it. Taeyong smiles and relaxes on their couch, and then remembers something.

What had Johnny done with the condom?

He launches for his phone, typing into it anxiously.

lee taeyong
What did you do with the condom? The one we used at my place

It takes less than a minute for Johnny to reply, but Taeyong sits frozen with dread the whole time.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
don’t worry, I took it with me. put it in my pocket

lee taeyong
Oh, thank fuck

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
don’t want to get you in trouble

lee taeyong
I’m covered in bruises

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
yeah, sorry about that. I got carried away

lee taeyong
It’s not your fault. I also got carried away

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
ok, still. my apologies
fuck, I really miss you

Taeyong stares at the second line. Johnny misses him? Misses sex? That’s probably it.

lee taeyong
It’s been hours

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
don’t act coy. tell daddy you miss him too

Taeyong nearly drops his phone, clasping his hand over his mouth to hold back a noise. A thrum of arousal goes through him, so intense he feels it in his toes. What the fuck.

The vacuum pauses. “Hey babe?” Doyoung calls from their bedroom. “Do you know where the room spray is? The nice one, with camomile.”

“Yeah, it’s underneath the sink. Stay there, I’ll bring it.”

Getting up and walking was not the right idea. He’s rock hard. His pants are a soft fabric, and make it impossible to miss. He hands Doyoung the spray bottle, who thankfully, doesn’t even look up from his pillow fluffing. “Thank you.”

Taeyong goes back to sitting on the couch, pulling his legs up. He picks up his phone again, unlocking it with a rapidly beating heart. There’s another message from Johnny.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
too far? I just figured, since you like baby boy

lee taeyong
No, I really fucking like it. I’m just also not alone right now, so please stop. You’re turning me on

Johnny sends him a sticker of a bear throwing a thumbs up and a wink.

On Sunday, he goes to see Donghyuck. Still wearing the stupid turtleneck, because his hickeys have become even darker, somehow. He’d been forced to wear foundation to bed, which had looked weird and had resulted in stains on his pillow. But if Doyoung noticed, he hadn’t said anything.

They play video games, while Donghyuck rants about how stupid everyone at the company is. Taeyong agrees with him repeatedly.

Then Donghyuck suddenly starts crying, just a few tears, but still. “Hey, what are you crying for? Be glad you’re rid of them,” Taeyong says soothingly, reaching out to squeeze the back of Donghyuck’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Donghyck sniffles, “I guess getting fired is kind of scary.”

That’s true. Even quitting had been scary. “You’ll be okay. You’ll find another job.”

“I know. I just want them to stub their toes, or something.” He sniffs loudly and rubs at his eyes, and then turns his attention to Taeyong. “Whatever, enough about me. What’s up with you?”

Taeyong blinks at him. “Nothing is up with me.”

“You look different. Did you get a haircut?”

What the fuck, Taeyong thinks. “No. Stop staring at me like that.”

Donghyuck tilts his head, studying him. “Are you using a new face cream?”

“No!”

“You shouldn’t keep beauty secrets. I have to go on job interviews now, I need all the make-up advice I can get.”

Taeyong drops his brows, unimpressed. “You have the most flawless skin I’ve ever seen on a person. You look like you were dipped in bronze gold. Just slap some kohl under your eyes and go eyefuck them into hiring you.”

Donghyuck laughs, shocked. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“Yes! You’re a very pretty man. I can’t be the first person who has told you this?”

“You’re not, but other people who told me stuff like that wanted to sleep with me. And I’m dating two of them.”

Taeyong scrunches his nose. “I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“Yeah, I know. So what’s up.” He sniffs the air. “Are you using a new shampoo?”

“Stop!” Taeyong laughs, and kicks at him. And then beats him at their game.

Monday is worse than he’d anticipated. He’s sorry to Donghyuck all over again, for sending him into the lion’s den without warning. Everyone’s heads turn when he and Doyoung step out of the elevator, and several people lean closer together, whispering to each other while still looking at them out of the corner of their eyes.

Doyoung goes to his office without a word. He had said ahead of time that it would be best if they kept their fraternising to a minimum, for a couple of days at least, so Doyoung wouldn’t be accused of favouritism. It still makes Taeyong feel abandoned, but he pushes it down. He has solidly lost the right to criticise anything Doyoung does. He slumps down at his desk, feeling weirdly grubby from all the impolite stares following him around. His neck is slathered in foundation again, and it’s already itchy.

Johnny shows up shortly after, which makes things immeasurably better. Their knees knock together underneath the table, which causes a spark to shoot up Taeyong’s leg. He tries to fight down a smile, and fails. Johnny picks up his phone, and texts him.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
can’t wait to fuck you again. copy room quickie?

lee taeyong
Oh my god shut up! Not at work

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
yes at work. how am I supposed to resist you when you sit there looking like that. I’m only human

Taeyong has to press his legs together, arousal thrumming through him. He suspects his face is completely flushed by now, and hopes his foundation hides the worst of it.

lee taeyong
No, absolutely not

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
Jamin showed me the copy room where she fucks all the interns. it’s deserted

lee taeyong
You mean where she fucks you.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
once or twice. not anymore, though

It would be so foolish. The whole floor is staring at him, his absence would definitely be noticed. It’s so risky. People will be able to tell. He’s not put together after sex, or even during.

lee taeyong
Lunch. When it’s not weird that I’m away from my desk

Johnny lets out a little noise. Taeyong raises a brow at him.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
really didn’t think you’d agree. you’re full of surprises

He gets absolutely no work done. He tries to look busy, and is pretty sure he fails miserably. Jamin walks past their desk a couple of times, but doesn’t even spare them a glance. On a normal day, he would have felt sick with stress. But right now, all he can think about is Johnny. Sitting this near to him, he can smell Johnny’s cologne. He’s been smelling it for weeks, but now it’s like it’s casting a spell over him.

A small insane part of him wants to crawl into Johnny’s lap, right here in front of everyone, and kiss him. His real life, his actual life, feels further and further away. And it’s nice. Johnny has become his oasis in the desert. He doesn’t even care about the thrill of it being in public. He just wants Johnny, all the time. He wants him so bad that it’s interfering with his ability to think clearly.

Johnny leaves a little bit before lunch, promising he’ll be back shortly. Taeyong waits for something to come up that prevents them from going through with their plan. Either one of them being called into a meeting, being invited out to a work lunch, the building catching fire. But the hour approaches, and nothing of note happens. Nothing besides Johnny coming back to fetch him, and then pushing the wrong floor button in the elevator. Taeyong stands next to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet, feeling inexplicable.

It’s like, somehow, there’s more of him than there usually is. That’s what it feels like. Like the physical boundaries of his self are too narrow, too constricting. He feels like he could burst.

The copy room is indeed deserted, at the back end of a floor that has fallen into disuse. There’s still some people working the desks here, evidenced by small potted plants and pictures of family members, but no one is around.

Johnny closes the door almost all the way, stating it’s better if they leave it ajar, so they can hear if someone’s coming. Then he lifts him up onto an ancient copier, which isn’t plugged into anything, and starts kissing him.

“No, wait,” Taeyong says in a low voice, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He tilts his head, listening, checking if he can hear anything. It’s dead silent.

“Can’t kiss you?” Johnny asks, whispering, grinning. Taeyong wants to kiss him so bad.

Taeyong whispers: “I can’t go back looking like I’ve been fucked. So don’t mess with anything above chest level, and don’t crease my clothes.”

“Hm, bossy. I like it.” He’s given a final peck. “Alright, I’ll be careful. Hop off.”

Johnny undoes Taeyong’s slacks and bares just his ass, and then bends him over the copier. And Taeyong learns why Johnny left earlier: to go buy lube and condoms. The thought of Johnny walking around with those things in his inside pocket sets him aflame, it feels so illicit.

He grunts softly when Johnny pushes his fingers into him, lubing him up. All he can think of is taking Johnny again, feeling connected again. “Feels so good,” he whispers.

“Can I?” Johnny asks. He’s nowhere near as rough as he usually is. Their first priority has to be silence.

“Yeah,” Taeyong breathes out, bracing himself against the copier.

Being fucked slowly and deliberately, somehow, feels just as thrilling as when Johnny fucks him hard. He shoves his cock home every time, bottoming out in a smooth movement, using his thumbs to keep Taeyong’s hole spread. Taeyong feels laid bare, used. But somehow, also cherished. He feels like a different person when he’s being fucked by Johnny.

“Take me so well,” Johnny praises him in a murmur, “soft silky hole, always loose for me.”

Taeyong bites down on his knuckles. He’s loose because that’s how Doyoung likes him, and he’s usually looser than this. Doyoung prefers fucking into almost no resistance. He used to finger Taeyong open with such care, day after day, until Taeyong thought he might be able to take Doyoung’s fist one day.

They did have really good chemistry in bed, at some point. The reason why it all went away looms at the edge of his consciousness, waiting to be acknowledged.

We don’t think about that, his mind reminds him.

He pushes it away by biting down on his fingers harder, hard enough for tears to spring to his eyes. It’s not enough.

“Hyung,” he says, voice shaky, “harder, please?”

“Call me daddy, honey. I’m not your hyung when we’re doing this.”

“Daddy,” Taeyong breathes out, pitched. Desperate.

“You have to be quiet, okay?” Johnny warns, and then starts thrusting into him with more force. The bad memory that was threatening to break through evaporates, and Taeyong lets out a moan.

“What did I just say?” Johnny admonishes him in a whisper, pulling him closer and covering Taeyong’s nose and mouth with his hand. Taeyong can still breathe, but it takes more effort, the silence filled with the sounds of his laboured attempts to take in air around Johnny’s hand.

Johnny starts fucking into him with abandon, each thrust dragging their surroundings further out of focus. He has no idea if he’s still being quiet or not. All he knows is the insistent press of Johnny’s cock into his guts, the bursts of pleasure going through his nervous system, the sinking feeling of oxygen deprivation. He feels so far removed from himself. Just an object, getting fucked. It feels freeing.

Johnny slams in deep when he starts coming, switching his hands to Taeyong’s hips, fingers digging into his flesh. More bruises. Taeyong is gasping for air, gripping the control panel of the copier. Everything sounds so quiet, now that Johnny has stopped moving, now that the deafening rush of blood in his ears is dying down. If anyone was around, there’s no way they went unheard. But he doesn’t even have it in him to feel fear anymore. He feels... drained.

Johnny pulls out, ties off the condom, and pockets it. Not like they can throw it into an office waste basket. Then he helps Taeyong tidy up, tenderly fixing up his clothes for him; zipping and buttoning his slacks for him, and tucking his dress shirt back in. Taeyong stands leaned against the copier on shaky legs, watching Johnny without saying a word.

Johnny stretches himself to his full length, and steps closer, looking down at Taeyong. He fixes up Taeyong’s hair last, pushing loose tendrils of hair back into place. He’s still talking to him in a low voice. “Your make-up still looks okay... you took it so well, baby. Love using your sweet little hole to get off.”

Taeyong stares up at Johnny, silent. He feels like he’s about to shake apart. All the energy he felt coming here is still within him, but now it feels like it might destroy him on the way out.

Johnny frowns at him. “Do you usually experience subdrop?”

It takes him several tries to get the words out. “W-what’s that?” he finally manages to ask, voice shaky.

“Come here,” Johnny says, and pulls him into a hug. He’s hugging him gently, but he’s still everywhere. Warm around him, big. The type of hugs Taeyong used to get as a little boy, the ones that made him feel safe and loved. God, Johnny smells good. Clean, warm, manly. Taeyong loves his scent.

“Slow down your breathing,” Johnny instructs him, and Taeyong obeys. “Don’t exhale right away. Keep the air in for a couple of seconds... yeah, like that. Good.”

Taeyong does start feeling a little better, after a while. With it, the mortification creeps in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Not your fault,” Johnny assures him. Taeyong takes another deep breath, and another.

The elevator door dings, and they step apart in an instant, looking at each other with wide eyes. The elevator isn’t visible from where they’re standing, and they listen for a second, trying to work out if anyone is coming their way. Johnny grins nervously at him, and then points at a shelf over Taeyong’s shoulder. There’s stacks of paper on it.

“Could you hand me that?” Johnny asks, in an even voice.

Taeyong hands it to him, and then quickly reaches up to fix Johnny’s hair before stepping away from him. Johnny throws him a wink and an air kiss, and then he’s gone, casually strolling out onto the floor with his stack of blank papers.

What is Taeyong’s cover story? Does he even need one? He just stands in the copy room for a couple of moments, staring at one of the aged motivational posters on the wall. He can’t hear anything outside the room. After a minute, he grabs his own stack of blank paper and walks out too, feeling like he doesn’t know how walking casually works anymore. What did a normal office stroll even look like?

There’s a young guy sitting at one of the desks, listlessly clicking through the menus on his screen. He doesn’t even look up when Taeyong walks past, but Taeyong feels like he can’t breathe easy until the elevator doors have closed in front of him. He slumps against one of the walls, letting out a long exhale of air.

“Shiiiit,” he says quietly to himself. He really just did that. He really just had sex at work. Who did that, besides–

A memory of hands undoing his belt buckle in a toilet stall.

Don’t think about that.

He blinks and stands up straighter, clutching the papers to his chest. The walk back to his desk feels strange. Like he’s walking on clouds, but not in a good way. He can’t feel his limbs, or his face. He sits down next to Johnny, who says something, but he can’t hear him. He just nods, and hopes it’s sufficient.

Doyoung stops by, and says something, but Taeyong still can’t make sense of the words. By the time he looks up, Doyoung is gone, and the lighting outside has changed. Johnny is still sitting next to him, steadily correcting a pile of homework.

Jamin walks up to their desk. She’s wearing a dark blue skirt today, with a thin grey stripe. Taeyong stares hard at it. Was Doyoung here, earlier...? She says something, but he can’t even look up at her.

“–ection chief Lee!”

Everything comes back into focus, and his head snaps up, staring up at Jamin.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I said, do you have this week’s focus plan ready?”

Taeyong stares at her. He’s not okay. Not at all. It feels like his chest is caving in. Johnny already helped him, why is he still like this? He can see Johnny looking at him out of the corner of his eye, a concerned pinch to his brow.

“Section chief Lee, could you at least pretend to be capable? People are depending on you,” Jamin says sharply. He hears someone snigger at a desk nearby. Like a trailer being played in his head, his entire future at this company becomes crystal clear. The bullying, the character slander, the slow descent into worse and worse abuse. Same thing, every time.

It’s unbearable. He closes his laptop.

Jamin blinks at him. She’s a very handsome woman, it’s easy to see why people feel attracted to her. But she’s the same as Taeyong. Pleasant to look at, maybe. But all wrong inside. Made wrong by this environment.

“I think... I think I want to quit,” he whispers at her.

“What? I don’t think I heard you right.”

Taeyong stands up, impulsively. And repeats himself, loud enough for the nearby desks to hear him: “I quit.”

He hears Johnny shift in his seat, as well as several other people.

Jamin laughs, like he’s being preposterous. “You can’t quit.”

Taeyong is nodding like he’s agreeing with her, but his words are opposite to her statement: “I’ll send my resignation letter. Goodbye.”

“What?” Jamin repeats, still incredulous.

Taeyong grabs his suit jacket, turns around, and starts walking away.

“Yah!” Jamin screams after him, “you think you can just quit like this? Who do you think you are?” Her voice goes shriller when Taeyong just keeps walking. “Section chief Lee!!”

“Oh, can it, woman,” Johnny says loudly, and Taeyong freezes. He looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. He doesn’t want to get Johnny in trouble.

Jamin is also staring at Johnny now. Her face isn’t as handsome anymore, twisted with anger.

Johnny shrugs at her. “I think I’m also quitting. Honestly, the office culture here sucks.”

“What’s going on out here?” Doyoung asks, walking up with hasty strides. He looks pale and nervous.

“You’ve lost control of your team,” Jamin tells him snidely.

“It has nothing to do with him,” Taeyong cuts in, voice tense, “if anything it’s because of you, and the ugly gossip you spread about people.”

“The ugly gossip that I spread?” Jamin asks, eyebrows drawn high. She laughs, and points at Doyoung. “Team leader Kim is the worst one out of all of us.”

Taeyong has no retort, shocked by the accusation. Doyoung would never do that. He’s too nice for something like that.

Is he really?

“You should hear the things he’s had to say about you,” Jamin says, satisfied over having found a clear sore point for Taeyong.

Taeyong looks at all of them. Doyoung’s face is an anxious mixture of emotions, the prime one being fear. It makes Taeyong feel so terrible.

He turns and leaves, ignoring the eruption of words behind him.

Kim Doyoung
Where did you go
Yong, don’t ignore me. Where did you go
That was fucked up. Seriously? You couldn’t have at least quit in a more professional manner?

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
you ok? that was intense

lee donghyuck
hey, I heard what happened. I’m here if you need me

Taeyong replies to Donghyuck only, writing back thank you, I might stop by your place tomorrow. Then he puts his phone on silent and turns onto his other side, staring blankly ahead of him.

You’re a bad person, his mind whispers to him.

It’s true. He is. He can’t get anything right. Doyoung gave him the perfect job, an easy and respectable position. A chance for growth, a chance at a future. And Taeyong has fucked it all up. Yet again.

He’s still in the same position when Doyoung gets home, hours later. His fiancé bursts into their bedroom, looking exasperated.

“Taeyong, what the fuck!”

Taeyong curls in tighter on himself, covering his face with his hands.

Doyoung rounds the bed, pulling at Taeyong’s wrists. “No, you’re not pulling this shit again. Talk to me, look at me. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong whispers.

“Why– why would you do that? I was working on it. I told you to let me handle it. I would have gotten her fired instead of you. I was working on keeping you safe, and you couldn’t even hold out for one day? Donghyuck held out.”

And a fat lot of good it had done Donghyuck, Taeyong thinks listlessly.

Doyoung brings his face closer. Taeyong tries to squirm away from him, but his wrists are being held very tightly. “And it’s not just this,” Doyoung continues, “it’s been going on for years. You’ve become so, I don’t know, so weird. You weren’t always such a scaredy cat? Now it’s like you’re scared of your own shadow. And you keep quitting jobs. Why? Do you not want us to be successful? I can’t keep carrying both of us, I can’t afford to.”

“Please stop,” Taeyong says softly, trying to pull his arms free. They feel powerless though, like cooked noodles. He’s exhausted. Really, really exhausted.

Doyoung shakes his head. There’s tears in his eyes. “No, no, I don’t want to stop! Every time, you just close yourself off and I’m left picking up the pieces. Talk to me. I love you. Just talk to me, please. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

The memory comes barging to the forefront, crisp. Neatly manicured hands undoing his belt buckle in a toilet stall. It’s very quiet. The whole thing ends up being very quiet.

“I didn’t quit the first job,” Taeyong says softly, trying to defend himself. “Remember? They fired me.”

“And you never told me why,” Doyoung reminds him. He lets go of Taeyong, sitting down on the bed next to him. His voice is unsteady. “You used to tell me everything? We were best friends. Lately, it feels like... what’s going on with you, Yongie?”

Taeyong sits up, shoulders hunched. He’s trying to clear his mind. It’s like a hundred things are pushing themselves to the forefront at once, all of them desperate to be released from the silence. He takes a deep breath, and finally shares what happened.

“I got fired because I’m gay. I wasn’t careful enough, and they found out, and they fired me.”

Doyoung is frowning at him. He takes Taeyong’s hand, playing with his fingers. “You’re sure? Maybe it was–”

“I’m sure,” Taeyong interrupts him. He’s so tired of Doyoung trying to alter the narrative. Hiding from the realities of their existence had never once made things easier.

“And the second job?”

Taeyong looks away. He doesn’t want to say it. But he has to say it some time. At least once in his life. So why not now. Doyoung is his person, his other half. If anyone will understand, it will be Doyoung.

“I didn’t tell anyone. I really didn’t. But I think they could... I don’t know. They could smell it on me.”

“Smell what on you? Speak clearly, please,” Doyoung presses.

Taeyong rubs his cheek in a nervous gesture, staring down at their silky covers. “My desk mates. They would corner me at work, and jeer at me over being gay. It started out as the occasional joke, but it escalated. One of them worked at HR, so I wasn’t really sure what I could do to make it stop... who I should tell.”

Doyoung is quiet. Waiting for him to finish.

“The longer it went on, the more I started dreading going into work. My hands would go numb, I’d start shaking. I would lock myself in the bathroom over my breaks, and cry. Everyone knew. It was so embarrassing.

And then, one day, they followed me into my stall. I thought they were just going to laugh at me more, but–” he shivers violently, eyes unseeing, “that’s not what happened.”

“They?” Doyoung asks.

“Yeah. Two of them. She trained me, he sat opposite me.”

“So what happened?”

Taeyong cringes. “They... forced me.”

“What? To do what?” Doyoung asks insistently. Taeyong wonders if it’s really that unclear. Why is Doyoung being so insistent?

“Sex,” Taeyong says. The shivering gets worse. His teeth are chattering.

Doyoung shakes his face, looking disgusted. He’s not saying anything.

“Please say something,” Taeyong says after a while.

“So no one came when you called out?” Doyoung asks him. He still looks disgusted. Taeyong feels like something inside of him is dying.

“I didn’t call out,” Taeyong admits, voice quiet. It’s one of his greatest shames. He doesn’t know why he didn’t say anything. While it was happening, it was like he had no power at all, no voice. All he could do was silently let it happen. And it had felt so disgusting, because these people hated him. So why would they want to do those things to him...?

Doyoung is quiet again. Minutes pass. Taeyong feels like he’s freezing. When Doyoung finally speaks again, his voice sounds cold and hurt: “You really didn’t need to wrap up your cheating into some dumb story.”

Taeyong gasps, like someone stabbed him. “That’s not... that’s...”

And then he falls silent. He is a cheater. Doyoung has seen right through him.

Doyoung turns away from him. “Just get out. I don’t want to see you right now.”

Taeyong doesn’t leave the apartment, he flees. He grabs his phone and his jacket and runs out into the street.

See? You’re terrible. I told you no one would love you if they knew the real you.

He walks the streets in their neighbourhood for a long time, blindly, going in circles. There’s a little pagoda not far from their building, surrounded by high rises, and he disappears into the alleyway next to it, crouching close to the wall. He’s out of breath, cold. He feels miserable.

He gets out his phone, and dials his dad’s number.

“Hi, my son~” his father says pleasantly.

“Dad?” Taeyong says quietly.

“Yes?” his father asks. He sounds absent, like he’s doing something else and isn’t paying full attention. Taeyong kind of prefers it that way. He can picture his dad, sitting on the floor in his living room, drinking a beer and watching television.

“Is mom home?”

“No, your mother is out with her church group. You know how she is.”

Taeyong nods. He does know.

“Did you want to talk to her?”

“No, no. I just...” he sniffles, voice cracking, “dad, are you proud of me?”

“Of course,” his dad says, his tone warm, “my precious child, my only son.”

“Even though...”

“Eh? Taeyong-ah, speak up for your dad. My ears have been giving me trouble lately.”

Taeyong clears his voice. “Even if I quit my job today?”

The background noises stop, and his father’s voice becomes louder, like he’s put the phone to his mouth properly instead of keeping it to his ear with his shoulder. “You quit your job today?”

“Yes.”

“Well. I’m sure you had a good reason?”

Taeyong isn’t sure. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Dad trusts your judgement, Taeyong-ah. I always have. Dad is still proud of you.”

Taeyong’s lower lip trembles. He wants that to be true, he wants it so bad. “Even if... even if I’m gay?” he asks impulsively, and starts crying.

His father is silent for a while, and then, blissfully, says: “Of course.”

“You’re not mad?” Taeyong blubbers.

“Why would I be mad? I’ve known for a long time. You’re still dad’s precious son.”

Taeyong can’t believe his ears. “You... you knew?”

“Aigoo, how could I not have known? You were daddy’s boy, and even in kindergarten, you were telling me about all the boys you liked at school. Always the boys. And how you wanted them to be your boyfriend. Your mom gave you a spanking for that last part, but I don’t think she should have done that. No, she shouldn’t have done that. But you know your mother. No one can alter her course, once she’s set her mind to something.”

Taeyong is listening breathlessly. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“Well, still, that’s how it happened.”

“So you know about me and Doyoung?”

“How could I not?” his dad asks with a laugh. “You know, I’m starting to think you take me for an idiot.”

“I don’t know, I just... you never said anything.”

“Your old dad just doesn’t want to interfere. Or... well, I don’t know. It just didn’t seem like you really needed me anymore. You’re all grown up now.”

Taeyong claps his hand over his mouth, crying bitter, silent tears. He’s been stupid. Really stupid.

“Taeyong-ah...?” his dad asks gently. “Are you still there?”

Taeyong takes a deep breath, steadying his voice. “I do need you, dad. I really need you. I miss talking to you. Why did we ever stop talking?”

“Oh... well, your mom usually calls you, and tells me how things are going. And after all the things we went through, well, I don’t want to get into her way too much. She deserves some peace, your mother.”

“What things?”

He can hear his father’s breathing. Taeyong waits, clutching the phone anxiously. It feels like, somehow, it’s his fault. It’s getting late out, and his tears are really cold on his face. He wipes them away with his sleeve, but more keep coming.

“Well, you know... when I made your mother very unhappy... that whole thing.”

“No, I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh. I really thought... well, I figured your mom would have told you kids all about it.”

“Dad, can you just spit it out?”

“When I had my affair,” his dad says. He sounds extremely embarrassed. Taeyong is so shocked he forgets to cry for a moment.

“You had an affair?”

“Yes,” his father replies, voice even.

“Oh.” Christ, is this why his mother is so miserable all the time?

“I’m not proud of it, or anything.”

“Dad, I’m also having an affair.”

“You’re what?” his dad asks. For the first time, his voice has become sharper.

“Yeah, I’m like, fucking up my whole entire life.”

“Taeyong...”

“I’m also not proud of it!”

“Did Doyoung do something?”

Taeyong scoffs. “Did mom do something?”

“Well. Neither of us were perfect. That doesn’t make it right, what I did. But–”

“This isn’t because of anything Doyoung did.”

“Okay. Dad is just worried about you. Doyoung’s family isn’t like ours. I’m worried they’re not treating you well.”

“Doyoung’s family barely knows I exist,” Taeyong assures him, “they don’t even know we’re together.”

“That’s not true, they suspect it. And... they really dislike it. You know how your mom and Doyoung’s mom like to chat over the phone. They fight over you two a lot. Your mom is always defending you. Well, you know how she is, when it comes to you.”

Taeyong can’t believe his ears. No, he doesn’t know. His mother, defending him? Since when?

“And it makes dad feel guilty, because I don’t have friends on the board like Doyoung’s father does. If something were to happen, I can’t... well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. You quit working there today.”

Taeyong is speechless. Over the years, his parents have become cardboard cut-outs to him. Just one-dimensional figures, with only one set of thoughts. They always seemed kind of cold, distant, and his mom offended him at least once in every conversation. But now he’s learning about the conversations they have about him, the efforts they make to help him. The good thoughts they have regarding him.

“Are you still there?” his father asks, and he hears a slapping noise, “this stupid phone, I swear...”

“No, no, I’m here,” Taeyong says quickly, “I just didn’t know what to say.”

His father sighs. He sounds tired. Old. Taeyong wants to hug him. “Taeyong-ah, you know, you and Doyoung... you can still make that right. I know you love him. You shouldn’t give up too soon.”

Taeyong really isn’t convinced that’s true. But he doesn’t want to go against his father’s advice. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll try. Thank you.”

“Okay. You should call me more often, my darling son. I like it. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“I will. I really will,” Taeyong promises.

“Okay. Good. Don’t catch a cold, hm? Okay, okay.”

His dad hangs up, and Taeyong stares at his phone. He’s still cold, and he’s still unhappy. But there’s also a lightness within him. Like he’s finally gotten all the pus out of the wound, and for the first time, there’s a chance he’ll heal.

He texts Donghyuck, asking if he can crash with him, and Donghyuck replies yeah, duh.

They drink beers and play video games. Taei shows up after her shift at the hospital, looking exhausted but happy.

“Taeyong-ssi! After a thousand stories, I’m finally getting to meet you.”

Taeyong takes an immediate liking to her, and demands she speak comfortably with him. They’re practically family, after all. She’s a small girl, kind of unremarkable, but undeniably magnetic. She takes a seat in Donghyuck’s lap, and launches into a story about one of her colleagues, who just had a baby and has been telling the wildest anecdotes about what it’s like to have a fresh human.

Taeyong can’t help but glance at Donghyuck from time to time. He’s quiet, for once, satisfied with just sitting and listening. His face, as he looks up Taei, is so peaceful. Loving.

“And the snot story is not the worst one. Like, did you know you can have golf ball-sized blood clots coming out of you after you’re done giving birth? Like, for days afterwards? I didn’t know that! Thank god I don’t work that department, it sounds gross.”

Donghyuck kisses her upper arm. “Every doctor’s job is gross.”

“My job is not that gross,” Taei assures them, “the worst I’ve seen are some interesting-looking kidney stones.”

“Ew, don’t remind me,” Donghyuck complains. He looks at Taeyong. “If the patients don’t want to keep their stones, she takes them home. She has a collection. It’s fucking nasty.”

“What! It’s interesting,” Taei protests, grinning.

“I agree, that is interesting,” Taeyong agrees, smiling at them both.

“Betrayed by my oldest friend, I can’t believe it,” Donghyuck says coldly.

“This is why he hadn’t introduced us yet,” Taei whispers loudly at Taeyong, shielding her mouth with her hand, “he knows his friends will end up liking me better.”

“Okay, off to bed with you, you have an early day tomorrow,” Donghyuck decides, pushing Taei off his lap. She laughs loudly but still gets up.

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Goodnight, honey. Goodnight, Taeyong. It was really nice meeting you.”

“Goodnight, noona. I also enjoyed meeting you.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Donghyuck says warningly, as soon as Taei has locked herself in the bathroom.

“How did you get two people to fall in love with a shithead like you? Incredible.” He thinks of Johnny and Doyoung as soon as the words have left his mouth, and his jaw clenches.

Donghyuck finishes off his beer. “Do you want to go out for a quick bite? It’s fine once she’s asleep, but she has trouble falling asleep while people are talking.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go.” When he gets up, he remembers he hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday, and drinking multiple beers probably wasn’t a good idea. The room is kind of spinning around him.

It’s a relief when they’re seated in the restaurant, and their meat has hit the grill. Donghyuck pokes at it, cutting up the pieces.

“So are you finally gonna tell me what the fuck happened today?” Donghyuck asks.

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Jiwoo said Jamin lost her shit, right in the middle of the office, in front of everyone. She said it was kind of tragic.”

“Oh my god, is there anything this Jiwoo girl doesn’t know?”

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that,” Donghyuck says, giving Taeyong’s hand a slap.

Taeyong scowls at him. “What, is she also your girlfriend?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Donghyuck!”

“No, I’m kidding. We’re just friends. I think she’s gay as hell, to tell you the truth.”

Donghyuck wouldn’t usually speak this freely, not about this topic, but they’re both kind of buzzed, their inhibitions lowered. Taeyong’s gaze shoots around the restaurant, but no one is paying them any attention. There’s a lot of groups, drinking and talking and laughing loudly. He slumps, relaxing in his seat. “I don’t know, okay? Everything has just gotten so messy.”

Donghyuck nods in agreement, eyebrows raised high. “Yeah. I’m getting that.”

“I... I met someone?”

Donghyuck stops cutting up their pork belly, staring at Taeyong, eyes round. “Who.”

“Johnny.”

Donghyuck yells in drunk frustration. “Should have seen that one coming, fucking– you two have been eyefucking each other from the first time you met. Fuck, I’m so mad at myself for not guessing that.”

“You don’t think I’m an asshole?”

“Depends? What did you do?”

“Not good things... I slept with Johnny.”

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely an asshole. And were it anyone else, I would have yelled at you. But since it’s Doyoung? Who cares. He’s the bigger asshole here.”

“Don’t say that!” Taeyong says, voice sharp.

Donghyuck raises his voice in frustration. “Oh my god, when will you get it through your head? It’s the truth. He has been badmouthing you, he’s never supportive of anything you care about. He’s a terrible fucking boyfriend, and I hate him, and you should too.”

Taeyong shakes his head. He knows Donghyuck isn’t a liar, and would especially never lie about something like this. But accepting the truth hurts too much. He can’t. “No. No way.”

“Yes way. You know how Jamin gets. She gets antsy, she needs a target. She thinks you’re a slacker, and he’s just been agreeing with her all along. Her little yes man.”

“It’s strategic. He– he has a plan.”

“Man, whatever. I have been biting my tongue about you and Doyoung for a long time now. If you don’t want to hear it, that’s fine. I’m your friend, and I’ll support you in whatever you decide.”

“You say that, but you keep gunning for him.”

“If he hadn’t manipulated you into feeling like you owed him being his boyfriend, I wouldn’t have had it out for him.”

“That’s not what happened,” Taeyong says, stubborn. “Look, you’re not in my relationship, you don’t know. You don’t know him.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and changes the subject. Taeyong eats his food, and takes part in their conversation. But inside his mind, it’s a warzone.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
haven’t seen you in weeks. u good?

Taeyong has been staring at the television, empty-eyed. He picks up his phone, typing out his reply with a still-vacant face.

lee taeyong
Things have kind of been a lot lately

There’s a long pause. Johnny is usually a quick replier. Taeyong assumes he’s struggling to come up with something to say. Which makes sense, because Taeyong isn’t giving him much to work with these days.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
I can imagine. how’s the job search been going?

lee taeyong
Honestly: nowhere

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
that sucks

lee taeyong
Yeah

Another long pause.

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
I’d like to see you again. if you want

Taeyong’s heart starts beating faster in his chest. Why would Johnny want to see him again? It had just been a quick hook-up. Right?

lee taeyong
I’ve been trying to work things out with Doyoung. I need to see it through

Suh Youngho (Johnny)
yeah, of course. I understand

He waits, but Johnny doesn’t say anything else. If Johnny had asked him to just forget about Doyoung and run away with him to America together, honestly, he might have said yes. Things have been subpar between him and Doyoung. He doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not hungry, thank you,” Taeyong says, dropping his phone on the couch.

Doyoung eyes the phone suspiciously. He has his hands on his hips. “How are we supposed to fix the problems you caused, if you’re not going to make even the smallest effort?”

Taeyong looks up at him. They feel wrong, the words Doyoung is saying to him. But he can’t really pinpoint what’s wrong about them. Has Taeyong not been making any effort...? He’s been going to countless interviews. And even before that, he’s expended years and years of energy, to be good enough. To be the person Doyoung wants him to be.

“What? You have nothing to say?” Doyoung asks sharply.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says quietly.

“That doesn’t really fix things, but fine. I really think you should come eat your dinner. I worked hard on it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Doyoung is silent for a few moments, and then stamps his foot. He looks beyond frustrated, beyond angry. “Fine! Then why did you make me cook you a dinner!”

“I didn’t ask for one?” He’s not refusing food to be belligerent, he just really can’t stand the idea of eating right now.

“Right. You never ask for anything. You just make people run around for you.”

Taeyong digs his fingers into the couch. “When have I ever done that? What are you talking about?”

“Can you just go? I can’t stand to look at your face right now.”

Taeyong gets up wearily, grabbing his things. This scenario has been playing out a lot. He’s grown used to it. He tries to take hold of Doyoung’s hand, but his fiancé pulls free from his hold. “Doie, please? I love you. I want to make things right between us.”

“You should have thought of that before you went and let someone else fuck you.”

(Hands undoing his belt buckle in a toilet stall. They were gentle. He didn’t say no.)

Taeyong digs his palm into his forehead. “I messed up. But I want to be with you.”

Sometimes Doyoung is the one doing the begging. Why did Taeyong have to do those things? Doyoung would have done anything to make him happy. So why did he have to cheat?

“Please Taeyong, I need to know. Why?”

He didn’t want them to touch him, though. But then, with Johnny, he had definitely wanted it. And he can’t tell Doyoung why. It’s too cruel. Just telling him about Johnny had been horrible enough. Doyoung had made him spell out every detail of what they’d done together.

Doyoung is turning away from him, shoulders drawn up high. “I can’t look at you right now. Just go.”

Taeyong exits his apartment building, checking their mailbox on the way out, out of habit. There’s a beautiful cream envelope in there, but without any address on it. He opens it, and finds an equally beautiful engagement announcement. For Doyoung, and a girl he’s never heard of before.

He stares at the fancy lettering, waiting for it to start making sense.

When he bursts back into their apartment, Doyoung immediately starts shouting at him. “I said I don’t want to see you right now! Why can’t you ever fucking listen, I just want–”

“What the fuck is this?!” Taeyong yells, holding up the envelope. Damningly, Doyoung immediately seems to know what it is. There’s fear in his expression.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Taeyong rips the announcement from its envelope, throwing it at Doyoung’s head. “Stop lying! I’m so tired!”

“It’s really not what you think it is.”

Taeyong yells in frustration, and then takes a deep breath, crossing his arms. He stares at the floor, hard. If he continues looking at Doyoung, he’s going to start yelling again. “Fine. Explain it to me, then.”

“My mom won’t get off my neck, okay? I said I’d consider one of her candidates, and she ran wild with it.”

Taeyong laughs, insulted. “Are you really expecting me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that at all. What the fuck, we’ve just gotten through weeks of promising each other honesty, from here on out.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Stop lying,” Taeyong spits. “No woman in this city would agree to an engagement with a man she hasn’t even had a conversation with. You’ve at least spoken to her. You agreed on this together. Does her ring look like mine? Did you buy them both at the same time?”

“Taeyong,” Doyoung says plaintively, and stops there.

Taeyong looks at him, hard. “Just tell me why.”

Doyoung gestures around their apartment. “It’s just– it’s you. When we got together, it was on the understanding that we were going to have a certain kind of life together. But all you do is slack off, and fuck around. Literally!”

“We never had an understanding. You have expectations, and I’ve been trying to meet them.”

“Yeah, right,” Doyoung huffs.

“So what is she like? Is she rich? Successful? Let’s hear it.”

Doyoung looks defeated. “Her family is very rich. My mother is thrilled.”

Taeyong feels disgusted. With Doyoung, but mostly with himself. Doyoung doesn’t want him, specifically. Just the material things he can get out of a life with him. “I wish you two a happy life together, then.”

Doyoung frowns. “No, listen– I don’t want her. I am going to break off the engagement, it’s just to get my mother off my back. You must understand what it’s like? They never fucking stop. But it’s you I want. It’s always been you.”

“Doie, I love you so much. But that’s fucked up. And I don’t want...” he gestures around their apartment, “this. I don’t want this stupidly overpriced apartment, I don’t want sheets and a couch that are so expensive that I feel like I can never relax. I’m miserable. And you don’t care. All you care about is forcing me into your ideal version of me. I don’t think we love each other. We like each other, and we’ve acted like that’s good enough. But it’s not.”

Doyoung starts crying, holding himself tightly. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s not working out.”

“No, don’t say that. Just go cool off for a while, and then we’ll talk about it. I forgave your cheating, right? We can get through this.”

Taeyong shakes his head. He feels hollow. “No. It’s too late. We’ve done too many horrible things to each other. I’m leaving.”

Doyoung follows him as Taeyong walks towards the door, pulling him into a hug. Taeyong doesn’t hug him back, just waits for it to be over.

“Do you want your ring back?” It feels like a brand around his finger.

“No, it’s yours. You should keep it. Sweetheart, please believe me: I didn’t buy her a ring. My mom provided one for her. It’s this horribly gaudy thing my grandmother used to wear. It’s nothing like yours. You’re the only person I’ve ever bought a ring for.”

“Doyoung, the ring is not the issue here. You got engaged to a whole second person, and you were never going to tell me. Tell your parents to repay my parents for my half of the key money, tell them they’ll be rid of me then. I’m sure they’ll consider it a small price.”

Doyoung is clinging to him, face hidden against Taeyong’s chest. He voice sounds uncharacteristically small. “I’ll tell them I love you. Only you. They can disown me. I don’t care.”

Taeyong’s voice is cool. “Okay, tell them. Call them. Right now.”

A long minute passes. Doyoung makes no move to do anything. Taeyong pulls himself free from the hug, and walks out the door.

He walks. For hours. He’s going nowhere in particular. Hanging out in steam rooms, song rooms, pc rooms — the thought of being in an enclosed space right now makes him antsy. He just walks, as long as he thinks it’ll take for things to start making sense again.

He’s not even sad, that’s the most fucked up part. As soon as he’d realised things were well and truly over, all he’s felt is extreme relief.

He walks, and thinks. The streets are broad and clean. The air is full of exhaust fumes, from the never-ending traffic.

You would never have gotten married.

He’d suggested it. A wild plea. Just move abroad somewhere, where queer people have rights, build a life there together. Doyoung had adamantly refused. He couldn’t leave his career behind, couldn’t leave his family behind. Just to go run some dinky restaurant abroad? No.

And what now?

He doesn’t know. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He steps closer to the edge of the pavement. Almost immediately, a cab slows down in front of him, the driver ducking his head to look at Taeyong.

Taeyong gets into the backseat, buckling himself in. “Can you take me to homo hill?”

The cabbie gives him a look in his rearview mirror, but he does as asked, inching them through traffic. Things clear up considerably once they hit Itaewon, and Taeyong pays and thanks the driver.

He climbs the hill (it’s barely a hill), and walks past the neon bars, looking in. There’s old men, well-dressed men, boys in girls’ clothes, standing around in circles and sharing cigarettes. A club owner invites him in, but he keeps walking.

He used to come here, sometimes. In college, before he became an item with Doyoung. He would dance all night, and kiss other men. He had felt so free, then. Maybe part of him is hoping to recapture some of that magic. But it’s too late. The bars are the same, but he’s different.

He keeps walking further up the hill, following one of the winding streets. The shops and restaurants are mostly foreign, unlike everywhere else in Seoul. Everything smells good. After a while, the street becomes more deserted, traffic becoming a distant roar at the bottom of the hill. This neighbourhood connects to Yongsan. It’s not far.

By the time he comes to a halt in front of Johnny’s apartment, it’s really too late to just drop by. It’s a small building, just two floors. Johnny has the second floor. He pushes the doorbell, and leans against Johnny’s front gate, waiting.

A door on the second floor opens up, the light shining out into the night. He hears the plastic-y fwips of slippered feet descending the stairs, and then there’s a beat of silence.

“Taeyong?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies.

“Wow, uh. What a surprise? Come on up.” Johnny unlocks the gate for him, and lets him go ahead.

Unlike last time, he can’t deny that this apartment is awful. It’s not as bad as the gositel Taeyong lived in as a student, but it’s cramped and the wallpaper is peeling. He can smell the mould growing in the bathroom.

“This place is a dump,” Taeyong says flatly, “I love it.”

Johnny barks out a laugh. “Tell me about it. I just got whatever since I’m out most of the time, and I’m trying to save up. But maybe I should’ve sprung for a slightly nicer place.”

“No, it’s perfect. Can I go lie down on your bed?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Taeyong crawls into Johnny’s bed. It smells so good – like Johnny, like fresh laundry. There’s a plush rabbit sitting on a corner of the bed, pink and obnoxiously big. Taeyong squints at it.

Johnny is leaning against the doorjamb, watching things unfold with an amused look on his face.

“What’s with the bunny?” Taeyong asks.

“You told me you wanted a stuffed animal. So I got one for you.”

Taeyong stares at him. “I never said that.”

Johnny shakes his head, laughing like he can’t believe Taeyong. “Yeah, you did. When you came over. You were kind of half-asleep, but you made yourself very clear. There was a lot of whining. Are you saying you don’t like him? I can take him out of the room.”

“No,” Taeyong says, grabbing the rabbit and hugging it to his chest. He used to have a big stuffed bear in college, that he slept with every night. Doyoung had made him get rid of it, saying it looked stupid in their apartment. “He’s a him?”

“Yeah. I named him Tokki Knight. Don’t tell me, I know. Terrible name.”

“No, I like it. It suits him.”

Johnny is still standing in the doorway, Taeyong notices. He hasn’t come any closer. They fall silent for a beat.

“So. What’s the plan here?”

Taeyong is still hugging the plush, looking at Johnny over the top of the rabbit’s head. “I broke up with Doyoung.”

“Ah. I see. And then you came here.”

“Should I not have come?”

“I’m happy you’re here. But...” Johnny exhales, rubbing the back of his head. “I really like you, Taeyong. Really.”

Taeyong’s heart is beating so hard, it feels like it must be audible through his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yes. A lot.”

“Well. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Johnny agrees. “But are you here because you’re heartbroken, or because you like me back?”

Taeyong hesitates. He’s not entirely sure of himself. He’s spent years being corrected on his every thought, and now he’s never entirely sure of anything he’s thinking, or feeling. It’s fucking exhausting. “I’m not heartbroken. I think I fell in love with you at first sight.”

Johnny’s face breaks out into a smile, wide and bright. “So that’s what all that weird behaviour was about.”

Taeyong groans, flopping onto his back. Then he starts dragging his t-shirt over his head.

“Do you want me to join you?” Johnny asks.

Taeyong nods.

“Do you want me to take off my clothes?”

Taeyong nods again, kicking his legs out of his shorts.

“Sex?”

A resolute shake of his head.

“Alright. We can do that,” Johnny says. He strips and slides under the covers next to Taeyong, until they’re very close together. Taeyong abandons the bunny and hugs Johnny instead, sliding his hands over Johnny’s hard chest, down his stomach, playing with the trail of hair there, threading his fingers through the black hair growing above his cock. Johnny gets hard for him, but doesn’t do anything. The tension in Taeyong’s shoulders starts to ease up.

“Is it bad, what we did?” Taeyong asks. He’s still ashamed of himself.

Johnny puts an arm over him, and rests his chin on top of Taeyong’s head. “Yes. But at least you’ve ended things now.”

“Would you have continued seeing me, even if I was still with him?”

“Yes. Probably would have tried to stay away. But I would have failed.”

“Because you like me?”

Johnny kisses his head. “I think that’s putting it mildly. I quit my job.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Taeyong points out.

“I know, baby. That’s not what I meant.”

A full-body shiver goes through Taeyong over being called baby. “Johnny... I don’t know anything about you.”

“I think I’ve already told you the most important things. And if you stick around, you’ll find out the rest.”

“Do you think we could leave Korea? Together?”

“Is that what you want? I can stay. I don’t mind. I know what I said before, but... I want to be where you are.”

“No, I’m... I don’t want to stay.” His jaw feels tight, and the words don’t want to come. But he forces them out, a word at a time. “Lately, I’ve been feeling like, my life here... on the surface, it’s not a hard life. But I’ve always had a hard time. I feel, some days, I feel like I’m being killed.”

Johnny isn’t saying anything, just listening. Petting his shoulder. A soothing motion, fingers on skin, back and forth, back and forth. Taeyong feels blissful, purely because they’re lying near each other. It was never like that with Doyoung.

“And Doyoung, he always wanted this life for us. Even when I didn’t, he forced it. And it made me feel like, it felt like– like I’m invisible. Like I was going to lose my mind. Why do I hate it so much? I think Doyoung was trying to be nice. But it didn’t work. He didn’t feel nice. He was softest in bed, but even there it didn’t feel nice.”

“Soft isn’t neutral,” Johnny says into his hair.

It’s like something cracks open in Taeyong’s chest. Because that’s it. That’s it. He has spent years getting worked up about his career and his relationship, but here, in Johnny’s arms, his perspective completes its shift.

All this time, his desires have been treated as having weight to them, and Doyoung’s desires as being neutral. But that’s not the truth. All those times where Doyoung told him how much he disliked what Taeyong wanted, or made fun of him. And that had automatically meant it would never happen.

And they both accepted that as just, because Taeyong was the one going outside of the norm.

Doyoung had a plan. Doyoung would take care of everything. All Taeyong had to do was fall in line.

An easy, happy, good life. It’s all been superficial.

“I want to be with you,” Taeyong says, and his words come out very strongly. He means it with every fibre of his body. He can’t remember the last time he was this certain of something, if ever.

“Yeah?” Johnny asks. Taeyong can hear the smile in his voice.

“And I want to move abroad. And I want to get married to you. And learn English. And adopt. Pet, kid, I don’t care, I just want to raise something.”

Johnny is laughing now. “Is that all?”

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m insane, and ditch me?”

Johnny moves his head back, so he can look at him. “Nah... thing is, I’ve been looking for you for a while.”

Taeyong stares at him, unimpressed. “Now you’re just trying to be smooth.”

Johnny places his hand over Taeyong’s mouth, and Taeyong can’t suppress a smile. “Be quiet, daddy is speaking. As I was saying, I was trying to find you. And then I did. I knew pretty quickly. Not at first sight, but still.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Taeyong says behind Johnny’s hand.

“My point is: we got lucky and found each other. So let’s go do all those things. Marriage, kids.” Johnny shrugs, but he looks happy. “It’s gonna be fun. We’ll have a good life.”

Taeyong feels so much trust, when he looks at Johnny’s face. He genuinely believes it will be good. And if it’s not, Johnny will help him fix things. For the first time in years, he’s looking forward to the future.

“Yoboseyoooo,” Donghyuck screams into his ear. Taeyong winces, but can’t suppress the huge grin on his face. It’s just so nice to hear Korean, after almost a year of barely any. Johnny never wants to speak it with him anymore, says he has to pick up English and this is the best way.

“Hi,” Taeyong responds in English.

“Oh? Are we doing this in English? Alright, hold on.” Donghyuck clears his throat, and continues in English, at top volume and enunciating each syllable: “How is America?”

“No, shut up, I don’t want to speak English,” Taeyong mutters, glancing over at Johnny, who has his headphones on and can’t hear a word he’s saying. “I’ve been losing my mind, trying to learn that language. It’s a devil language. Their spelling makes no fucking sense.”

“Drama drama,” Donghyuck says, sounding delighted. “Speaking of, did you hear about Doyoung? He’s actually getting married to that girl from his mom’s church.”

“Yeah, I heard. My dad told me. Whatever, I guess? I hope they’re happy.”

“Doubt it,” Donghyuck says, “he’s so clearly just doing it to get back at you.”

Taeyong sincerely hopes that isn’t true. No matter how toxic their relationship ended up being, part of him still cares for Doyoung. He doesn’t want him to be trapped in a loveless marriage. But it’s no longer something he can, or wants to fix. “So how are things with you? With Taei and Mark?”

“Yeah, about that, I have some exciting news.”

“Oh?”

“Taei got accepted for a residency in Toronto.”

“Toronto, Canada?” Taeyong asks, shocked.

“Obviously Toronto, Canada. Do you know any other Torontos?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t even know you wanted to move to Canada.”

“Eh, I could take it or leave it. But Mark has citizenship there, so that makes things simpler for us. Taei has the work visa, and I’ll get a spousal visa.”

“Wait — are you getting married? Is this how you’re telling me you’re getting married? This is a shitty way of announcing a marriage, Donghyuck.”

“I’m hella getting married,” Donghyuck cheers, sounding self-satisfied. “All three of us, actually. Even if no one besides us thinks that’s real.”

“I can’t believe a sh–”

“If you call me a shithead, I’m crawling through the phone and I’m strangling you.”

Taeyong takes a deep breath, and solemnly finishes his sentence. “– a shithead like you convinced two people to marry him.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say? I’m actually kind of delightful.”

“So we’re both going to be married? That’s bonkers.”

“You’ll come visit, right? You haven’t seen Mark in so long, he’s starting to think you’ve secretly died.”

“Not dead. Alive and well.”

“And happy?”

Taeyong looks over at Johnny. He’s sitting in one of the armchairs in their living room, reading through essays his students have written while listening to music. Taeyong can hear the music faintly through the headphones, even across the room. Something moody and electronic.

The cat is asleep on the other armchair.

There’s at least a dozen drawings up on the walls, in just this room. Taeyong has had endless creative bursts since moving to Chicago, drawing until deep into the night. Johnny joins him sometimes, just for fun. They do all sorts of things together, just for fun.

He smiles, and nods, even though Donghyuck can’t see him. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

Notes:

ahh, the end has arrived!! thank you for reading 💚
i've been wanting to write a story about cheating for a while now, because! it's so prevalent in society! but rare in fic. i wanted to write a story about morally grey characters, and explore their motivations, their secrets, their lies. i hope you enjoyed their journeys :)
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