we becOme the light

by lyOnbit

Summary:

All Kyubin knew for sure was that he was curious of Yoojung, curious of his story and how their desires could weave together to create something neither of them had felt before.

Or, to put in plainly, Kyubin and Yoojung are the answer to each other's loneliness. Set in the be mine universe.

Chapter 1: spark in the darkness

Notes:

This is the longest and most ambitious thing I've written so far, and it has grown way beyond my initial idea of "barista Yoojung and office worker Kyubin have an awkward meet-cute that disrupts their lonely lives”. My first draft was written almost ten months ago, but I'm glad that I took my time and let the story and characters develop naturally, I think it helped me grow as a writer.

I don't want to explain my motivations behind creating this story, I want the text to speak for itself. OnlyOneOf provide me with constant inspiration to write about the complex inner lives of queer people, and that's what I tried to achieve. Whether I succeeded, you be the judge. I hope it'll be an enjoyable read!

And as always, English isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or odd wording choices. If you notice any mistakes and point them out for me to fix, I'd be very grateful!

"Wanna join us for drinks after work?" Wookjin's voice cut sharply through Kyubin's focus as he drowsily attempted to finish the calculation. His fingers halted between the keys and he blinked at the screen in a daze, trying to grasp at the numbers quickly vanishing from his mind.

Then Wookjin slammed a paper cup with steam coming out of the top on the desk, and his line of thought was gone. He wrapped his hands around the cup and sighed inwardly as the warmth spread from his fingers through the rest of his body, forcing him to take notice of the growing ache in his back and shoulders.

Wookjin was looking at him expectantly, so Kyubin pretended to entertain the proposition for a moment. They've been doing this little dance for a while – Wookjin interrupted his work with a hot drink and extended an invitation to go out, and Kyubin found some excuse to turn it down. "I've got a lot to do, sorry. Thank you for the coffee." He took a sip and winced. "This is tea."

Wookjin squinted. "Yeah, it is, who drinks coffee at this hour? Either go to sleep or get wasted, and I've just given you both options."

Kyubin felt annoyance bubble up, which he promptly pushed down and covered up with a curt nod. "Thank you for the tea."

"Okay, if not today, then this weekend?" Wookjin pushed on. "Will you find the time?"

"Not likely, sorry." Even though Kyubin never indicated he was in any way interested in any activities involving his colleagues outside of work, Wookjin didn't seem to get the hint. It didn't help his case that he always opted for the moment Kyubin started developing a headache.

Kyubin's sleep patterns had always been a mess, but over the course of the last few months, everything just deteriorated further. He'd been doing his best not to show any fatigue at work, but his age was catching up to him, and the things that used to come easily became an enormous strain. Staying up every single night just wasn't an option anymore, so both the quality of his work and the quantity of clients he managed took a dip.

He still was one of the company's most vital employees, but a nod of commendation from his boss became a sight as rare as a smile in the mirror.

"How are you feeling these days?" Wookjin's tone was gentler.

"Why are you asking?"

"Seriously, why? Look at you, man, you're looking half-dead recently. Do you even sleep, or do you just chug black coffee after black coffee until you hit your daily quota of five cups?"

That's eerily observant, Kyubin thought. "I've got to finish this today," he gestured to the screen, "I'm sure you have something to do as well."

He hoped that would prompt Wookjin to leave, but his colleague remained firmly rooted in one spot. "I'm done with everything, just waiting for Jisung and whoever else tags along. I think Jungeun from HR is coming too, and she always throws her money at anything we want to drink. Come with us, relax, have a good time."

"That's not my idea of a good time," Kyubin's tone was final.

"Suit yourself," Wookjin shrugged and left with a harsh pat on the back.

Kyubin stared at the screen of his computer, not able to decipher what was written there anymore, and only the presence of other people in the room stopped him from laying down on the desk and taking a nap. Maybe all he needed was to fall asleep with his cheek pressed to a keyboard for his inner battery to charge up again.

At some point, without realizing how or when it happened, everything started to require too much effort, even the simple things, things that used to be enjoyable. He couldn't remember the last time he went to the gym, and the food he used to like just didn't taste the same anymore, as if the packets of ramen eaten every day for dinner numbed his taste buds to anything sweet.

There was no drastic change in his life that could've prompted this shift, but perhaps that was the root of the problem – he started catching on to the fact that nothing was changing, and he was only getting older. Life seemed to pass by without his involvement.

Wookjin's words were but an echo in Kyubin's mind as he exited the building. Summer was just coming to a close and the air was still warm long after sunset, which made for a more pleasant atmosphere than the stuffy inside of his apartment. He was entertaining the idea of a long walk to rest his eyes, when his phone buzzed with a text from Junhyung.

09:54PM – Been craving an extra strong drink all day so I'm headed to chrome hearts, meet me there??

Alcohol was as good an option as anything else, he thought as he changed direction.

"Eyebags don't suit you," was Junhyung's way of greeting him.

"Thanks, I needed to hear that," Kyubin deadpanned and joined him at their usual table. Junhyung ordered him a beer already, and, as usual, something stronger for himself. "Can I drink a bit of yours?"

"This is the strongest one they serve, you sure you can handle it?"

Kyubin shrugged and downed half the liquid in Junhyung's glass under a cautious gaze.

"Okay, that's enough," Junhyung grabbed the glass before Kyubin could go in for a second gulp. "How are things, how are you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I look that bad?"

"Marginally worse than you used to, yeah."

Kyubin felt inclined to roll his eyes, but Junhyung's light tone was contagious. He leaned back in his chair and released a tired sigh that had been building up over the whole day. "Wookjin keeps asking me to come out for drinks with him and the others. I have to come up with some new excuses, because he just won't give up."

"So just go, then," Junhyung shrugged.

"Why would I go with them when I've got you?" Kyubin pointed out.

"I also go out drinking with my colleagues and people from uni. If anything, it helps with the working relationship."

"Watching them get drunk out of their minds helps?"

"It does when you join them. You really should loosen up around your coworkers. Get that permanent frown off your face, unleash your wild side, that kind of thing."

"They see me at work everyday," Kyubin winced. "It's not the same as you and your friends."

"Do you think they'll respect you less or something? Kyubin, seriously, if they're getting pissed, they're not gonna care."

Kyubin shrugged, not keen to continue the conversation.

He had the advantage of having his image solidified as that of a hardworking, focused, dedicated employee, all of which he slowly stopped embodying along the way. It was a good way to appear, though, so shattering that vision wasn't an option. The reason he never even downloaded a dating app was because of the paranoid thought that someone from work would stumble across him there.

His drink disappeared without him realizing, so he ordered them another round. This time, under Junhyung's watchful eye, he tried to pace himself, hoping not to cause any more concern. Luck wasn't on his side.

"You gotta know when to take a break," Junhyung said as he took Kyubin's drink and poured it into his own glass. "I don't know what's going on with you, whether it's just work or something else, but you look bad."

"What is it you think I should do?" Kyubin asked crossly.

Junhyung shrugged, his eyes already scanning the tables around them. "That's for you to figure out, I'm afraid."

It hit Kyubin at that moment that despite knowing almost everything about Junhyung, Junhyung didn't really know that much about him. Their relationship was unbalanced, but the reason Kyubin stuck by Junhyung's side was that he had enough to say to fill the silences between them, and didn't force Kyubin to confess any uncomfortable truths.

They met when Kyubin wasn't yet familiar with Seoul's more mature side despite having lived there for a few years already. He'd been gradually settling into the idea of exploring the things that felt forbidden, but all he could muster up the courage to do was find a classy bar and order himself a glass of wine without feeling like he was breaching some standard of decency.

The night that pushed him out of his comfort zone once and for all marked its beginning when Junhyung slipped into the seat next to him and delivered a cheesy chat up line. He laughed it off when Kyubin's expression turned panicked and apologized. Kyubin expected him to walk away, but instead, Junhyung struck up a friendly conversation. His kind attitude was enough to ease the nerves, so when Junhyung suggested showing him to a nearby bar that apparently was Way more fun than this stuffy place, Kyubin, in his naivety, didn't recognize the signs until they stepped inside.

It wasn't a club like he'd imagined from the description, with music thumping from the speakers and blinding strobe lights, but a normal bar. There was an air of privacy with how the booths were situated, and the only colorful lights were directed at the dance floor. Overall, not very different from the place they'd just left.

There were a few elements that quickly shattered that first impression, though – a rainbow flag hung on the wall behind the bar, and the intimacy with which the same-gender customers interacted with each other were among the key ones.

He followed Junhyung as if on autopilot, feeling slightly outside of his body in a way he couldn't decide was good or not. The few sips of wine weren't enough to make him admit to himself that this was what he'd been dreading and craving to see in equal measure.

Junhyung kept talking as if he didn't just cause Kyubin's world to shift its axis, all while Kyubin could hardly tear his eyes away from his glass. His whiskey-filled shot glass with a pride flag slapped on.

It didn't take long for someone else to catch Junhyung's attention. Kyubin tried not to stare out of the corner of his eye at the open flirtation, but failed, stunned by the sight of their hands connecting on the table, on display for everyone to see. It twisted something in his gut, and the two shots of whiskey in his system allowed him to admit the real cause of that agitation. Everyone around him seemed untouchable in their nonchalant and unapologetic display of want, and they were everything Kyubin could never become.

He was beginning to wonder whether he should just leave, but then Junhyung returned to their table, his smile dimmed and energy low. Kyubin couldn't stand the sight, so he ordered him another drink and listened to him talk about whatever he wanted until his spirits were high again.

They kept in touch after that, and some nights, they found themselves back at that bar, the Chrome Hearts. Junhyung never asked why Kyubin kept coming along, or why he dismissed all the men who came over to hit on him only to stare at their backs longingly once they left.

Once in a while, Junhyung found himself someone to go home with, and Kyubin was left with a choice to leave or stay. On certain nights, starvation for touch surpassed everything else and he ended up in foreign sheets, or with a stranger in his own, and the alcohol in his veins allowed him not to dwell on it in the aftermath. Sex didn't have to make things complicated, at least as long as nobody demanded something beyond it.

He supposed he'd gotten lucky in that department. There always seemed to be unspoken understanding that this was a one-time affair, and he was content enough with that state of things. The bitterness on his tongue when he greeted another morning alone was nothing but the residue of alcohol and unbrushed teeth.

"I think that's my cue," Junhyung said and took a sip, eyes lighting up as he headed towards his conquest of the night. Kyubin observed their relaxed body language as they talked, how they stepped closer and closer into each other's personal space until they were kissing, forcing Kyubin to avert his eyes.

With the alcohol swerving in his veins, it was easier to admit he knew exactly what Junhyung saw in him. He looked rough and mysterious, with tattoos on his neck and up his arms. His dyed blond hair that grew past his chin reminded Kyubin of someone he watched from a distance. Someone entirely untouchable.

He downed whatever was left in Junhyung's glass and walked outside, leaving his friend to enjoy better company.

He roamed the streets until he reached the bus stop he used on nights like these and sat on the bench, facing the café. Ultimate Bliss, the signboard above the door said, and it wasn't hard to believe one could really reach that state if they went inside. It seemed idyllic from a distance, the brightest source of light on the otherwise dim street.

The two-way street separating him from it wasn't an impenetrable barrier, but he never got any closer. Each night, he just looked, and sometimes he caught a glimpse of the blond barista dancing while cleaning up, his steps light, long hair swaying with every move. His curiosity didn't always go unnoticed, but as long as his feet didn't cross the street, he felt safe. That was when he'd been of sounder mind, though – or rather, soberer.

The barista was nowhere to be seen from the angle Kyubin stood at, so he crossed the street to get closer. The décor inside was pleasant-looking, full of dark and light woods, overhead lights and greenery hanging from the ceiling. The tables were small and cozy, adorned by bouquets of dried flowers. And there he was, sitting behind the counter, his head resting on outstretched hands.

Before Kyubin's mind could catch up to what his body was doing, his hand pushed the door, and the fact that it gave in and opened sobered him up a bit. For some reason, he expected it to stay firmly locked.

He had to remind his legs how to move before finally taking a step inside. The café revealed itself to be bigger than it seemed from the threshold, with a few seats in the faraway corners filled with customers. A smooth melody played from the speakers, quiet enough that one could grow to ignore its presence. Kyubin could see himself returning there to finish his work in a place more atmospheric than his apartment. Certainly with a better smell.

The barista's bored demeanor shifted when their eyes met. Kyubin expected him to get up and bow, but he just straightened in his chair and stared, gaze switching between looking at Kyubin and quickly darting to the sides only to return to him again, wide and inquiring.

His looks were a stark contrast to the surrounding dirty cups and stain-covered surfaces. He had the kind of face one would expect to find on the front pages of magazines or in high quality romance dramas, and his unconventional hair added an air of unreality, as if he were lifted from a painting, expressed in delicate strokes of white and gold. The kind of beauty that deserved a price to be looked at.

The moment stretched as Kyubin fought the tightness in his throat, only for the words that came out to be, "Why are you working here?"

What followed was a mortifying moment of stillness when the chatter in the background seemed too loud, and Kyubin's own words dawned on him as he watched the barista's eyes widen even more, eyebrows rising up, a picture of innocent confusion.

He shot up from his chair and bowed quickly. "I'm sorry, what can I get for you?"

His voice did nothing to quell Kyubin's growing nervousness. The combination of such delicate features and a timbre so deep made his stomach dance, and not just from the mix of alcoholic drinks.

He didn't notice the ticking of the clock before, but suddenly, it was all he could hear, and it distracted him in his search for the best course of action. The barista's cautious smile tensed. Right, Kyubin just said something stupid, something that probably sounded like a reprimand for slacking off, not a wholly inappropriate compliment. "I just meant- you don't look like a barista, that's all."

"I don't have to wear a uniform, just an apron."

He still looked confused, so Kyubin rushed to explain, "Well, that's the thing, maybe if you at least wore a uniform it would be obvious why you're here, but it's just not right for someone who looks like this to-" he cut himself off when the barista's cold gaze chilled him to the bone. Shit, he was just digging an even bigger hole for himself.

"You're drunk, so if you're not going to order anything, I'll have to ask you to leave. Sir," he added stiffly.

A customer requested his attention, and Kyubin stayed motionless for the duration of the order being prepared, seething with embarrassment. He didn't have enough time to gather his thoughts into any coherent and appropriate explanation. The last thing he should've been saying was You're a living, breathing masterpiece, can I please get your number and kiss you for hours?, but alas, that was all his brain was supplying, so he kept his mouth tightly shut.

The customer left, and the barista turned to him. "Do you need me to call a taxi?"

Kyubin shook his head, which jolted his body awake enough to make a farewell bow and walk out the door, all while forcing his eyes not to stray anywhere near the man's face again, afraid of what would slip out if he gave himself another chance to look.

Throughout the following week, Junhyung didn't contact him at all, until one day he called Kyubin over to his flat.

Kyubin found him wrapped in a blanket, watching a cheesy rom-com while stuffing himself with ice cream, and, used to the ordeal, sat by his side without question. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd found Junhyung in this exact state.

Junhyung's flings never lasted long enough to get serious, but for all the time Kyubin knew him, he'd never been lowkey about anything. When he set his sights on someone, and that someone allowed him into their life for more than one night, it was like the rest of the world stopped existing. Occasionally, he'd remember to answer Kyubin's texts, but for the most part, his lover was the only thing on his mind. And, after no more than a few weeks, Kyubin found him like this, trying to move on as quickly as possible.

"I want cake," Junhyung said when the movie ended.

"You've just eaten a tub of ice cream, how could you still want sugar?"

"It's the most healing thing on earth."

"That's incorrect on so many levels."

"Whatever," Junhyung shrugged as he got up and put his shoes on. "I know a place that has the darkest, richest chocolate cake, sound interesting?"

"Thanks, I'll pass."

"Fine, your loss, but if I sit at the table alone, I'll start crying. Is that what you want?"

It wasn't, so Kyubin followed in Junhyung's step.

The walk was a silent one, which was unusual in Junhyung's company. After a few minutes, Kyubin decided to break it by asking, "Why are all of your relationships so short?"

The answer wasn't difficult to piece together from the bits Junhyung let slip after having one too many drinks. It seemed that heartbreak found its way to him easily, and his feelings were only reciprocated up to a point, after which he was left to pick up the pieces and glue them back together with fleeting pleasures.

But Kyubin didn't really expect him to want to talk about it while sober, so he wasn't sure what prompted him to ask. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the past week's tossing and turning while his most embarrassing moment played on loop on the back of his eyelids – he needed a distraction in the form of someone else's problems.

"Oh, a multitude of reasons," Junhyung stated lightly. "Actually, maybe it's just one, and it's that after too much time together, things just get unnecessarily complicated. Why bother dragging it out?"

"But have you ever actually tried to take things slow?"

"I don't know how to take things slow, and I'm not gonna force myself to pretend I can, it's exhausting. The first few weeks are fun, we keep it light and playful, so when we say goodbye there are no ill feelings."

"For them or for you?"

Junhyung chuckled. "I know I'm not exactly fine right now, but in the long run, it's better. We can only focus on having fun for a limited amount of time, so it's better to end it before things turn sour and keep only the good memories, don't you think?"

While Junhyung's tone was casual as always, Kyubin wasn't sure how much of it was genuine. "Is it really that easy?"

"I've learnt to deal with it," Junhyung answered simply.

"Sugar, movie, drinks, repeat?"

"Hey, if it works, it works, you know?" His tone remained light, but his smile seemed more and more stiff, like he'd been forcibly keeping it on his face for too long.

Feeling partially responsible, Kyubin said, "I'm sure you'll find someone who'll meet you halfway and appreciate all you've got offer. You deserve someone like that."

Junhyung looked at him curiously. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Kyubin?"

"What, did I say something wrong?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you say anything remotely as sincere as that. But thank you, I'm glad you wish me so well."

"Don't get used to it," Kyubin said flippantly.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, I'll cherish that kernel of affection for all time. But now I'm curious what you're like with your actual friends."

"I- Aren't you my friend?"

Junhyung hummed. "I could be, I guess I just thought we were drinking buddies more than anything else."

Kyubin shrugged awkwardly. "Well, you might be the closest friend I've ever had, so do with that what you will."

"Right," Junhyung said in a way that suggested a sudden realization. "That explains a lot, actually. Well, if you want to be my friend, know that it comes at a price."

"Meaning?"

Junhyung put his arm around him and smiled knowingly. "Friends tell each other things, you know. Personal things."

The implication was obvious. As per usual, Kyubin stayed silent.

Likely sensing that he wouldn't divulge any information voluntarily, Junhyung asked, "Have you ever been in a relationship?"

"Of course I have," Kyubin said defensively.

Junhyung's raised eyebrow signified it wasn't convincing. "I'm not judging you, you can tell me."

"No," Kyubin sighed, "I haven't."

"But you want to?"

"I- I don't know. Maybe I'm not made for relationships, either."

"That doesn't answer my question, do you want to be in a relationship? Like, date someone, spend time with them, know everything there is to know about them, have mind-blowing orgasms with them over and over and over-"

"Yes, okay? I want that."

"Okay, good," Junhyung clapped him on the shoulder, "should we find you someone, then?"

"Just drop the subject, please."

Junhyung shook his head. "Unfair, dude, super unfair. Friends help each other out, and you've been putting up with me long enough, so whatever you need help with, just say. I'm not gonna judge you, you know."

Of course Kyubin knew, but he was still intimidated by the ease with which Junhyung approached this topic. He'd been trying his damn hardest to keep his distance from conversations like these, and now he was dropped straight into one.

When it became clear Kyubin wasn't going to expose anything without it having pulled out of him, Junhyung added, "Don't forget I give stellar advice, at least sometimes. I told you you'd look good with long hair, and look at you now, you haven't seen a pair of scissors since."

"I had the ends trimmed."

Junhyung gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not saying you don't take care of your appearance, I'm just pointing out that you followed my advice and like the results. I mean, I guess it does look a little unusual, but you pull it off and look damn fine."

"My boss tried to get me to cut it," Kyubin confessed, "but he gave up a while ago." Now he just looked at it disapprovingly, especially once it reached the shoulders, but Kyubin didn't care anymore. Junhyung convinced him that even professional appearance could have some element of self-expression, and this was small enough not to carry any larger consequences.

That was the effect Junhyung had. The things Kyubin would never have had the courage to try on his own were made available thanks to his incentive.

"There is a situation I might need insight on," Kyubin started slowly. "I tried to talk to someone, but I messed it up completely, and I'm not sure what I should do about it."

The more detailed truth was that he couldn't stop thinking about him. All throughout the week, the memory would hit him abruptly and drown him in guilt and embarrassment to the point of feeling unbearable. He kept entertaining the two options – avoid or confront – and he supposed that as long as he steered clear of the topic altogether, he wouldn't arrive at any answer.

Junhyung looked incredibly pleased. "Okay, now we're talking. You're gonna tell me all about it, let's just order first." Junhyung's hand reached for the café door, and Kyubin froze. He'd been so caught up in the conversation that he completely failed to register the route they were taking.

"Wait!" He caught Junhyung's wrist. "Can we go somewhere else? Anywhere?"

Junhyung looked him up and down, as if assessing what his motives were. "No," he said and entered.

Shit shit shit. He considered dragging Junhyung out by force, or turning on his heel and leaving, but Junhyung was already inside, impatiently keeping the door open, so, reluctantly, Kyubin followed. He froze when his eyes met the barista's – who halted for a millisecond, but then nodded stiffly, ever professional – and Kyubin looked down at his shoes, hoping it looked enough like a polite response.

Junhyung, as if he and Wookjin suddenly developed a telepathic bond despite never meeting, ordered a green tea for Kyubin, and dug into a piece of cake.

Kyubin's eyes drifted to the barista. Somehow, he looked even better than Kyubin remembered, as if alcohol blurred a few details that made him nothing short of irresistible; maybe his hair was fluffier that day, or maybe this shirt layed better on him, Kyubin wasn't sure. The one thing missing were these wide, emotive eyes, so deeply embedded in Kyubin's memory, now hidden beneath a controlled, polite expression.

"So, is that guy the one we were just talking about? Is that the reason you wanted to avoid this place?"

"What?!" Kyubin's voice came out way too alarmed.

Junhyung raised his hands defensively. "Hey, just a guess, that's all. You keep staring at him like he's your lost love. Mad coincidence if it's him, I've been coming to this place for months."

Kyubin closed his eyes and wished he could teleport back to his bed. When that didn't happen, he confirmed the barista was busy with a customer before he leaned over the table to confess quietly, "I came here after our last time at the bar. I was tired and tipsy, and I kind of freaked out, cause of the way he looks and all, and insulted him instead of, I don't know, complimenting him."

"Go explain yourself."

"Not going to happen." Not right then and there, not as long as he was sober, but also definitely not while he was drunk, not again.

"I'm glad to hear your dick works, but by the looks of it, you won't be able to put it to good use unless you take a risk."

Kyubin choked on his drink, which only made Junhyung smirk. "It's not like that," he tried to assert half-heartedly.

"Come on, I've got eyes, you want to do something to him. Good taste, by the way."

Junhyung's easy smile made Kyubin feel a little calmer about the unfamiliar direction their conversation was heading. "Look, I- I'm not saying I wouldn't had the circumstances been different, but you didn't see me that night, I made a complete idiot of myself."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad. Seriously, talk to him, see if the feeling's there. Maybe it'll end at talking, maybe not, but at least you'll know you didn't miss a chance."

"I don't know if that's worth the stress."

Junhyung looked thoughtful as he chewed his cake. "I hate to be the bearer of cliché advice, but you won't know unless you try. I mean, would you really let that pass you by? Cause if you give up, I'll take the opportunity." He stared at the barista appreciatively, and Kyubin's urge to cover his eyes was uncomfortably strong.

Junhyung took one look at his face and snorted. "Dude, relax, I already tried, he wasn't interested. Though I got the hunch it wasn't because he's not into men, just not into me, so your chances are quite high."

"How do you..." Kyubin hesitated. "I mean, it's easy to tell at the bar, but how can you tell it's safe to try here?"

Junhyung shrugged. "It's always a guessing game. You try to figure it out as you go along." It did little to reassure Kyubin, which must've showed, because he elaborated, "You don't show all your cards at once. If you sense something's off, that's your cue to give up and forget. Pay attention to the small things, like eye contact, body language, innuendo, basically try to read between the lines."

"Sounds complicated."

"It can be, but some people are fairly transparent. Don't make a plan or anything, just go with the flow. See where it takes you, and for fuck's sake, let it take you. I need you to do this for yourself."

Junhyung's conviction encouraged Kyubin to at least entertain the idea. "Do I even have a chance? He probably gets hit on all the time."

"I'm guessing not by the likes of you."

"What is that supposed to mean? I might look like a zombie, but I'm pretty certain I'm not."

"Come on, you know that's not what I mean. Customer service jobs are a nightmare, you've got to be an upgrade from everyone else who hits on him. You're hot, well-dressed and well-spoken, so if he does like men, he'd have to be mad not to consider it."

The Kyubin from a few months ago probably would've agreed with these statements about his good qualities, but this Kyubin had little to offer beyond a carefully put together appearance of a capable adult. He sighed resignedly, "Easy for you to say, you're used to failure."

He realized how harsh it sounded only when Junhyung scoffed, "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know, I know." The bell above the door dinged, and whatever Junhyung wanted to say next was left unarticulated as his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Kyubin followed his line of sight to a customer talking to the barista, who addressed him in a friendly manner.

Junhyung stared at the newcomer with a dreamy smile on his face. The other man noticed and smiled back tentatively. Kyubin recognized the signs.

He expected Junhyung to extend an invitation to their table, but the man didn't look their way again, instead leaving with a cup in hand. Junhyung's eyes stayed on him as he passed them outside the window, and, without a word or even another glance at Kyubin, he stood up abruptly, consecutively hitting his head on the lampshade. He ignored it, along with other things – like paying – and ran out.

The slam of the door left tense silence in its wake.

"What the hell was that?" the barista broke it, his slender fingers toying with a rug absentmindedly.

Kyubin briefly entertained the possibility of using his distraction to sneak out, but even with Junhyung gone, the essence of his words stayed. At that moment, the attraction fresh in Kyubin's body and mind, he couldn't imagine looking at anyone else ever again without comparing them to the barista. Whatever happened, he'd never forgive himself if he walked out.

"I think my friend just fell in love at first sight," he answered.

The barista flinched as if he just realized he wasn't alone. "Would you like anything else or will you have the receipt, sir?"

Kyubin laughed awkwardly, "Do I really look that old?"

"I address every customer the same way." His voice was monotone, and Kyubin almost gave up when he realized his presence alone made the other uncomfortable. The pull was already beyond his grasp, though, want quickly starting to feel like need, and he had to at least attempt to fix what he broke.

He approached the counter, sat in one of the weirdly high chairs that refused to let his feet meet the ground, and started with the most simple option. "What's your name?"

After a beat of silence, a response came, "Yoojung."

"That's a really..." pretty, "nice name."

"Thanks, I chose it myself."

"Something wrong with your old one?" Kyubin joked.

"Are you going to pay or order?" It was said with polite indifference, but at least he dropped the sir, which counted as a small win.

"Uh, order, I guess. What would you recommend?"

"At this hour, tea or hot chocolate."

Why was everyone so responsible about sleep all of a sudden? "Then tea, please."

The barista's face remained unreadable as he prepared the beverage and placed it in front of Kyubin. "The armchairs over there are more comfortable, you should try them out."

"Oh, sorry, should I not be sitting here?"

"If that's what you prefer."

Kyubin nodded and desperately scoured his brain for a way to bring up the topic of their unfortunate encounter naturally, when Yoojung spoke directly. "If you have anything you want to say, go on, I can take constructive criticism."

"What? No, no, I actually didn't mean to-"

"Just say it, what's the issue? My boss doesn't require uniforms, I have no say in that. Is it the hair length? The color? It's not against regulations, but I could consider cutting it and dying it back to black, if it's such a bother."

"No," Kyubin said sharply, "don't even joke about that." He was right in saying his hair was an issue to Kyubin, but as for the nature of the issue, he couldn't have been more wrong.

"Fine," Yoojung let out a short, unamused laugh, and Kyubin wished to never hear that sound again, not in a way so fake and devoid of joy. He wanted to know what his laugh sounded like when it bubbled out of him uncontrollably, what he looked like when something stirred him up to the point where he couldn't control his facial muscles any longer. But it wasn't like Kyubin deserved to have what he wanted.

Perhaps this was the whole point, the reason he decided this was worth the risk – being the cause of distress for a man so beautiful made him feel like the world's biggest failure. If he could fix this, who knows, maybe he could still fix other things.

"That's not what I came here to say," he took a deep breath, "I was really drunk last time, and it was the end of a tiring day, week, even. I wasn't planning to come in here, and the things I ended up saying- I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I didn't mean those things the way they came out."

"How did you mean them?"

"I'd rather not say, if you don't mind."

Yoojung snorted with obvious annoyance, the polished picture tainted. "Fine, since Sungho also seemed to have taken a liking to your friend, let's just forget this."

Kyubin's ears perked up at the name. "Could you tell me a bit about Sungho?"

"Why?" Yoojung asked warily.

"Junhyung got his heart broken recently. Very recently. I'd like to think it won't happen again anytime soon."

Some of the ice in Yoojung's glare melted. "Sungho isn't a very open person, we don't talk much outside of dance class. He's kind and hardworking, that's about as much as I can say."

Kyubin's mind short-circuited. "You're a dancer? Oh my god, obviously you're a dancer."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yoojung's shoulders squared defensively, as if he was expecting to be insulted. Again. "Something wrong with being a dancer?"

"No, no, I mean that... you look like a dancer. Like a model, or an idol. A celebrity, basically." Kyubin looked down at his hands to make the next part easier. "That's what I was getting at before, and I'm sorry it came out in such a twisted way. I was- I was confused why someone who looks like you would be working in a place like this, because I'd expect to see you performing on music shows, or on billboards advertising a new fashion collection, something like that. But that doesn't mean you look out of place, or you're not good at what you do, definitely not that, just... Yeah."

He glanced up cautiously to gauge the reaction, and was met with a look drastically different to anything he'd seen before – gaze softening, lips parting, cheeks gathering color.

"I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood," Yoojung said quietly.

Okay, at least he's not freaking out. "There must've been a million ways to phrase it better than I did, but still, I should've just kept my mouth shut. I shouldn't have come in at all."

Yoojung shook his head. "No, that's not- I overreacted, I was being rude for no reason. I'm really sorry, let me make it up to you. Free drinks for a week, let's say, would that be enough?"

"No, wait, why would you owe me anything? I'm the one that messed up."

Yoojung's head lowered in a humble bow, and his stare didn't leave the rug in his hands. "I shouldn't have assumed the worst, since the customer is always right and whatnot. I don't normally get this worked up, it was just a pretty hard day. Not that it's an excuse, you must've had a tiring day, too."

Kyubin tried to catch up to the shifting personas playing out in front of him. Right, he was in Yoojung's workplace. There was a counter separating them. He was just another customer, one that managed to get on his nerves and imprint himself as a burden. The wide eyes and faint blush didn't mean anything, Kyubin just found them so alluring that he read too much into what they meant. "Don't worry, I'm not going to complain to your boss or leave a bad review, nothing like that. I think the way you're running this place is great, I mean, I don't normally drink tea, but this is very tasty."

Yoojung nodded stiffly. "Thank you, I appreciate that."

He didn't look satisfied, though. Was this the wrong thing to say? Kyubin ignored all his doubts and elaborated, "I really don't blame you for standing up for yourself, and I'm glad you decided to call me out. If any customers say things like that to you and actually mean them, don't take their bullshit, just their money."

The corner of Yoojung's mouth twitched. "I'd rather not, not everyone would be this understanding."

"Does this happen a lot? Customers complaining about petty stuff, I mean?"

"Sometimes. Not that often, but when it does, it can get pretty draining, and today was... wild."

"Do you want to get it off your chest?"

Yoojung finally looked at him again, and he seemed taken aback. "It's not really my place to complain to customers. Your day must've been hard, too, I shouldn't be adding to that. No more than I already did, that is."

"That's alright, I can listen," Kyubin assured.

Yoojung regarded him with a wary glance, and then leaned forward a little, forearms resting on the counter. Kyubin stayed perfectly still. This was much closer than he ever thought he'd get to look at him, and he sent out a silent wish to any deity present that nobody would come in and interrupt them.

"There was this guy today who was being difficult. He sent back three coffees and spilled the fourth one on the floor, refused to pay for it, and then just stood there, yelling about how everything is shit."

"Sounds like he was a really unstable person. It must've been a nightmare to deal with."

Yoojung shrugged. "He was probably dealing with something difficult, so I can't really blame him. It's not his fault life isn't easy, is it?"

"But his reaction to it was unwarranted, especially in a public space," Kyubin pointed out. "He should've saved his meltdown for somewhere private, where he didn't interfere with your work."

"Yeah, I mean, I wasn't thrilled about it, it was a bit scary when he started yelling, especially to the kids who saw it, but... I guess he just wanted to be heard, but nobody cared to listen when he talked."

"How are you so compassionate?" Kyubin asked, fascinated by Yoojung's inclination to seek understanding.

Yoojung finally put the rug away and looked out the window with a thoughtful look on his face. "This might sound like I'm trying to be obnoxiously poetic, but when he walked out, I realised that people aren't that different from an active volcano sometimes. They let everything build up inside, and then lose all control and destroy everything around them. I mean, he only destroyed one cup, but it's not like he didn't affect both himself and everyone else in here. So, to answer your question, I just think anyone's capable of blowing up like this if they let their emotions fester for too long, it's not just him."

"Right, people should try harder to keep their emotions under control," Kyubin concluded.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all, I'm saying the exact opposite. Keeping emotions under control is exactly what causes the eruption. I mean, I know nothing about the guy, so this is all just hypotheticals, but he could've found a way to express his emotions before everything started to feel too complicated, you know?"

"Maybe what he felt was too complicated from the beginning, so it was always impossible to express." He wasn't sure why he said it. It wasn't like Yoojung knew enough about him to understand how deeply personal that observation was, but something propelled Kyubin to be candid.

He didn't anticipate for Yoojung to nod right away and say, "Yeah, I think I get what you're saying. A lot of what you feel is just a convoluted mess of everything you've felt before and everything that's happened to you, so boxing it into words or some other neat little concept can be tricky."

"Right," Kyubin said under his breath, and then repeated louder, "right, so even if there are things that you want to communicate, you don't know how. It's just... it's too complicated."

Yoojung nodded again. "Personally, I find that abstract expression works really well, like, through art, but I know that's not for everyone. Even for me, it's not enough sometimes. Sometimes you just want someone to talk to."

"Talking can be pretty scary."

"Everything can be scary if you take it seriously enough," Yoojung replied lightly, his eyes fixed on Kyubin with intrigue. "Why do you find it scary?"

Kyubin laughed awkwardly. "Forget it, I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't even intent to say it out loud. I'm not sure why I did."

"I promise I won't make fun of you." Yoojung's tone was gentle in a way Kyubin didn't remember directed at himself in a long time. Maybe ever.

He took a few sips of his tea before answering, "It just makes everything feel so real. You can pretend some things aren't that big of a deal as long as you're the only one who knows, but once someone else hears, it's... well, it's all out of your hands."

"Isn't it nice to feel real, though, once in a while? Didn't you feel a little more real just now?"

Kyubin swallowed, a new kind of tension rising up in his chest and sending a signal to his brain – you are transparent to him.

That forced his mind to catch up to what was happening, and he felt all sorts of disoriented by the situation he found himself in. He came up there to apologise and, if luck had it, have this man in his bed for a night, but what they were actually having was more akin to a soul-baring conversation. Even though he felt restless, the rattled nerves beneath his skin began to settle into a state of anticipation that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He missed the taste of alcohol on his tongue, but his senses focused on Yoojung in a way that felt tantalizing, drawing him in the more he allowed himself to uncover.

Kyubin's silence went on for a moment too long. Yoojung looked down at the counter with a timid smile, effectively breaking the contemplative bubble. "Sorry, you didn't come here for therapy from a guy who makes coffee for a living, it's just not often that someone... ah, nevermind."

"What?" Kyubin tried to catch his gaze again. "It's not often that a customer brings up their deeply rooted issues?"

"Funnily enough, that does happen sometimes." When Kyubin made a confused face, he elaborated, "I don't mind small talk with customers, but once in a while someone comes around who sits down and starts talking about their life, and they usually expect me to offer some insight. I get that they want to sort out their thoughts and get through the day, and that it's convenient to tell these things to a stranger who has no option but to stand there and listen, but for me... it's not like I can respond with anything personal, so it's a one way conversation. It's like I'm just a wall with ears to them."

Kyubin frowned. "Would you rather be left alone? Because if I'm bothering you right now, just tell me, I don't want to-"

"No, no, you're fine," Yoojung said with an urgent edge to his voice. "Sorry, didn't mean to make it sound like I was hinting you should leave. It's actually really nice of you to give me a chance to be the one complaining, for a change."

It seemed like he really meant it, and even though it was such a small thing, it made Kyubin feel oddly proud of himself. "You can complain some more, if you like."

"No need, I think I got it all out of my system. Still, thanks for keeping me company like this. The evenings are usually super slow, so I'm either eavesdropping or making choreographies in my head to pass the time. This is way more entertaining."

With his best effort to sound casual, Kyubin asked, "So there's nobody who would entertain you in other ways? I mean, there must be plenty who flirt with you." Plenty competition.

"And why do you think so?" Yoojung propped his chin up on his hand and stared, curious and perceptive. Inadvertently, Kyubin leaned forward just a little bit, enough to catch a whiff of his scent in the close proximity. It overpowered the many smells of the café for a second, a unique blend of fresh and musky, like a summer night with a light breeze and fingers in tousled hair.

Yoojung's gaze on him was piercing, and all of a sudden, Kyubin sensed that he was being analyzed. His mouth went dry, and he tried to subtly wipe his sweaty hands on his pants. "I mean- cause of the way you look and all that. You must be a lot of people's type."

Yoojung's expression didn't let on what he wanted to hear, and Kyubin wished he could see what was being read from his face.

"You're right," Yoojung looked away for a second and Kyubin regained his ability to breathe, "I'm used to being hit on at work, but it's not exactly a great place to find someone. A cup of coffee or tea goes down too fast to gauge who you're actually talking to, and the ones I said yes to... They weren't right."

"And who would a right one be?" Kyubin asked against his better judgment.

Yoojung gnawed on his lip for a moment. "Someone who respects my interests and boundaries, and puts in some effort to get to know me. Mostly, I just want someone who'd wanna talk."

"Those don't seem like hard requirements to meet." Not for you.

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised. Turns out that when you meet someone in a place where they expect you to serve them anything they want, that dynamic stays outside of this place, too. I'm not subjecting myself to anything like that ever again." The small frown between his brows betrayed a well of emotion much deeper than his flat voice let on.

"So customers are strictly off limits," Kyubin said, not able to conceal his disappointment. "Right, that's probably smarter."

"I didn't say that," Yoojung's smile was enigmatic, "I just need to know what I'm getting into before I get into it." Though his lips didn't form any words of request, Kyubin still heard them. He could've easily taken a step away or told Kyubin to leave, but instead, he leaned into his personal space just a little further, asserting his intention.

For once, Kyubin knew he had to act, because there'd be no second chances if he screwed this up. "Hypothetically," he started carefully, "if someone was to come by to talk about whatever you want, even if all you want is to complain about your day for an hour straight... would you want to see someone like that again?"

Yoojung cocked his head to the side. "Sounds tempting, but I wonder, what does he expect in return? Hypothetically, of course?"

"Nothing."

"I find that kind of hard to believe."

"Isn't wanting to have another conversation like this enough?"

"It could be. So he has no ulterior motive?"

Kyubin swallowed. He didn't need to ask Yoojung to define what he meant, there was only one possible meaning, and it must've been so easy to read from his face.

He could laugh it off and pretend he had no idea what Yoojung meant. He could take the hint that what he wanted wouldn't be given to him easily, not tonight, not anytime soon, not unless he put in the effort. He could simply give up. He could, but he didn't want to.

"He might," Kyubin admitted, "but he could suppress it if it meant getting to talk to you again."

Yoojung raised his eyebrow. "And why would he think that's worth it?"

"He feels good around you."

The words lingered in the momentary silence, and Kyubin felt just how true they were when a smile bloomed on Yoojung's face and reached his eyes. "His company is more than welcome, then. Is he going to tell me his name, or does he want me to beg for it?"

"It's Kyubin," mercifully, his voice sounded more assured than he felt. He cleared his throat, the atmosphere proving a little too much for his sleep deprived brain. "Listen, I gotta go, I've still got some work to finish up. I'll- I'll see you soon?"

Yoojung shrugged, but the sweet smile he wore changed the meaning from indifference to a playful dare. Guess the answer for yourself. Do I want to see you again? What he actually said was, "Sweet dreams, Kyubin."

If dreams arrived that night, Kyubin knew exactly what they would entail.

The night he faced once he exited the café didn't seem as dark as before. He stood motionless on the stairs, finding his footing in a world that shifted its axis again.

"You okay?" His gaze snapped to Junhyung who was leaning against the wall. "You were in there for quite a while."

"I thought you would've already gone home," Kyubin walked over to him.

"I did debate whether to leave you to it in case you two decided to leave together, but then I thought, a friend would stick around in case it didn't go so well."

"How did it go with Sungho?"

Junhyung looked surprised. "How the fuck did you manage to find out his name before me? Doesn't matter, we're meeting tomorrow and I can't wait, he's so fucking cute. But now I really want to hear how it went for you, go on, spare no detail."

"It was... something." Transferring what he was feeling into words was difficult, what with his entire nervous system still in disarray. "I offered I'd come back to let him talk about whatever he wants since he's bored at work a lot, and he agreed. I think that was my way of flirting, but it's all a bit of a blur. I really need to sleep on it."

"That's a promising start, yeah?"

"I guess so. I just get so weird around him, like I lose control over anything I'm saying. I thought I only get like that when I'm drunk, but now... Is that how this always feels, or does it stop after a while?"

Junhyung snorted. "Damn, he's really gotten under your skin, hasn't he? I haven't seen you this worked up before. You seem younger like this, which at your age is a fucking miracle."

"You're going to be my age before you can blink, don't get cocky."

"I'll stay cocky, cause I'll always be younger than you," Junhyung bit back without missing a beat. "Look, I know you didn't ask for my advice, but here it is anyway – just let things happen. Seems like whatever you're doing right now is working, so if something feels right, just go for it."

Kyubin gave him a suspicious side glance. "And you're qualified to be giving advice like this?"

"I've seen more romantic movies than you," Junhyung retorted, "and just because I have a certain history doesn't mean you have to share my fate. Whatever you decide to do, I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines."

"So you'll reply to my texts even when you're with Sungho?"

Junhyung laughed, "Can't promise that. You ever just forget your phone exists, and then when you remember, the battery is all out, and the charger is too far away, so you forget about it again?"

"No, I definitely don't, I've never lost my mind for anyone to that extent."

Junhyung slapped him on the back. "Well then, I hope you will this time."

Kyubin knew he had a silly smile on his face for the whole ride back to his apartment, but the bus was empty enough for him not to care.

Once his head hit the pillow, the past hours felt like a drunk man's dream, and he was left feeling both elated and bewildered. He went to splash his face in the sink, and when that didn't calm down the odd flutter in his chest, he allowed himself to laugh, free and relieved. If he knew talking honestly and flirting clumsily with a pretty man was going to feel like this, he would've started ten years earlier.

Junhyung was right, he felt so much younger as he rolled in his bed, trading sleep for yet another replay of the moments engraved in his mind in vivid detail – the real smile Yoojung showed him, the scent he carried, the timbre of his voice, the shape of his fingers that Kyubin wanted slotted between his.

There was something beneath Yoojung's beautiful veneer, too, something that intrigued Kyubin endlessly, presenting more questions than his drowsy mind could process. All he knew for sure was that he was curious of Yoojung, curious of his story, and how their desires could weave together to create something neither of them had felt before.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you'll stick around until the end! And to everyone who was waiting for this – thank you for your patience.

Posting the first chapter on begin's first anniversary, during Pride Month no less, makes me feel really proud of how far this story has come. Part of me feels nervous about posting this chapter before all my ideas are set in stone, but out of all the chapters, this is the one I can (and should) stop overthinking. I don't know what the upload schedule will look like, but to assure you that the wait won't be too long, I can tell you the next five chapters are more or less finished, and I'm currently working really hard on the rest. There might be ten in total, there might be more, we shall see.

Also, I admit, I named Yoojung his stage name in my first draft purely out of habit after my first fic, but then I realised it makes a lot of sense with his backstory, so I kept it. Everyone else has their real names cause it just seems more natural that way, but Yoojung is already a normal Korean name, so I hope it doesn't create any dissonance.

Chapter 2: dim glOw

Notes:

Thank you for all the love on chapter 1! I kept editing chapter 2 until the last minute, I got a bunch of new ideas that worked better than the previous version so now I'm restructuring the following chapters as well.

Full disclosure – I did my best to be accurate with what the accounting job looks like, but at the end of the day, I could only learn from articles online, so if anyone who's ever worked as an accountant reads this, sorry, I hope you won't be forced to roll your eyes too much at the inaccuracies.

The under-eye bags and dark circles in the mirror were not a new sight. In the early hours of the day, with nothing but the prospect of exertion and blaring artificial lights ahead, the memory of the previous evening was too faint to make him smile, but it wasn't faint enough to make him want to trade what happened for however many hours of uninterrupted sleep.

As he consumed his poor excuse for a breakfast – one dry toast and a black coffee – his brain decided the best way to spend its last ounce of energy would be to analyze how deeply Yoojung had affected him the previous night. Being fully sober while facing this part of himself for the first time meant that the memories of everything he felt were vivid, and he couldn't just brush this whole thing off as nothing out of the ordinary. He had to acknowledge that the other man ignited something in him, something he wanted to stay aflame in a long, low simmer, rather than burn to ashes in one night.

Having drunken sex was easy, but he couldn't pretend that it didn't leave a tiny hole in his heart, growing bigger and bigger each time he sneaked out in the morning or woke up alone. Satisfying his body's needs was meant to take these things off his mind for a bit, not leave him wanting more. He'd already accepted last night that he wouldn't, couldn't do that to Yoojung, not after getting a glimpse of how deeply the other man could reach into his innermost intricacies.

While he was adding a tie to the already uncomfortably stiff work attire, a realization came. Yoojung, through a single conversation, managed to expose to Kyubin a version of himself he never knew he contained. He became someone honest in front of him, someone whose hidden parts wanted to tear out into the open and be seen, acknowledged, entertained. For a moment, he believed he had something real to offer.

And so, he stood on the verge of something new, faltering on a thin line separating his comfort zone and the vast unknown. The cluelessness as to where he'd end up was both enticing and discomforting.

But those were exhausting things to think about, and he barely had the energy to stand. He kept refreshing his messages with Junhyung throughout the day in hope that he could get some help in processing some of this stuff, but alas, Junhyung had already disappeared off the face of the earth.

Kyubin was ready to go home and crash when Wookjin intercepted him in the hallway and handed him a stack of folders.

"Boss is asking for you. I have to run, so if you could bring those up to his desk, that would be great. Thanks!" he yelled as he rounded the corner and disappeared.

The height and weight of the pile loomed over Kyubin. He could bet that if he checked what was inside, he'd see assignments with deadlines weeks into the future, perfectly typed out and formatted, neat in their plastic sleeves.

A voice from inside the office invited him to come in. Kyubin put the folders down on the desk, not keen to clarify they weren't the result of his work.

His boss indicated for him to sit. "Mr. Shin, I'll get straight to the point, we're looking for someone to promote to firm partner. Now, have we done this last year, you would've been our first choice, but the dip in your productivity didn't go unnoticed. We must take recent performance into consideration." He spread his arms helplessly, as if his indifference were to soften the blow, and then leaned forward discreetly. "This next part is to stay just between the two of us. The others on the board were set on promoting Mr. Jung Wookjin straight away, but... we wouldn't want anyone suspecting favoritism, would we now? Promoting someone after just three years would be unorthodox on its own, and, as I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Jung's father used to work here at a rather high position."

"Yes," Kyubin said numbly.

"Right, so here's where the additional assignments come in," his boss slid a binder his way.

"I'm sorry, what?" Kyubin hoped he was just misunderstanding something.

"This is a list of clients I want you to take over and the relevant information about their businesses. This isn't permanent, it's just a little motivation to get your productivity back up, so the faster you prove to me you can work under pressure, the sooner we can forget this little slump of yours ever happened."

"With all due respect, sir, the numbers of clients I have right now is already-"

"Don't misunderstand, this decision wasn't made just for the optics," the man clarified. "You're as close as we get to Mr. Jung's equal, so completing these assignments will make you a viable option for a promotion. Perhaps not now, but if the opportunity arises again, I guarantee you will be our first choice, no questions asked. I'm sure you're aware that being promoted to firm partner comes with all sorts of perks, so I'm confident you'll do your best and not make a joke out of me for standing up for you in front of the whole board. I have high expectation for you, Mr. Shin, so make me proud."

Whatever protests Kyubin had turned into a tight smile and a polite bow. "Of course, I'll do my best."

Before going back to his desk, he took the elevator to the top floor, the steady humming and clicking creating a daunting melody. He closed his eyes and focused on counting the floors in his mind.

The top floor had a spacious balcony overlooking the city, a pleasant spot with greenery growing in large pots and a few benches to rest on. The sky was slowly turning a darker shade of blue, but it wasn't dark enough for the streetlamps below to stand out. Even without them, Kyubin liked the sight of the city from up high. Despite the faint smell of fumes, it was easier to breathe there than anywhere else.

In times like these, he was glad to always have at least one cigarette on him. They were the only thing that provided an immediate and strong sensation, enough to get his nerves under control. For a moment, at least.

He leaned against the railing and inhaled deeply. If he stared hard enough, he'd be able to see the Han river shimmering in the distance, but his eyes traveled downwards to focus on the cars rushing and getting stuck in traffic below. Each of them contained people wholly separate from the turmoil going on in his head; a small reassurance that life would go on normally no matter where it brought him.

I have high expectations for you. A phrase he heard more than his own name.

This wasn't how any of this was supposed to turn out. A career, his parents said, a stable future, a good future. Back in university, or even for the first few years at the company, it didn't seem like something that would eat up every last ounce of his willpower.

He could imagine how elated his parents would be if he called them right then and there to sell them a story of a successful man who's just been offered a promotion, while carefully omitting the fact that he was second to a guy with three years of experience behind his belt.

Wookjin was the complete opposite of him. Everything seemed to come so easily to him, so effortlessly. He held a mysterious formula to success, one that Kyubin never managed to crack, and he would've been the first choice for a promotion regardless of Kyubin's slump. It felt unfair, but more than that, it felt like a sign that one of them was made for this, while the other was desperately pulling himself along, pretending he knew what he was doing by trying to reach the other's level.

He stepped onto the cigarette end before throwing it in the trash, and the lingering smoke made him think of an entirely different smell. It wasn't as strong, but the memory of it made something in Kyubin's gut untwist for a short moment, and in that moment, it wasn't about having that scent smeared all over himself, but about seeing the person who wore it. A desire so simple, so uncomplicated, he just couldn't resist it.

He caught sight of him through the window first and halted, suddenly hesitant. Why was his first instinct to go there instead of getting black out drunk? How should he even appear? Should he put on a mask of calm and content? He wasn't going there to make Yoojung's day harder, but with the clouds gathered over his head, it would prove a challenge.

It was too late to turn back, though. Yoojung noticed him and waved, only to then look at his hand as if he wasn't expecting it to act like this. He shoved it into the pocket of his apron and gave Kyubin another glance before he resumed preparing an order. Yeah, turning back was impossible.

The café was much busier than the previous time, and when Kyubin finally reached the front of the queue, a long line had already formed behind him. "Hey," he said, but it came out more like a sigh.

"You're back," Yoojung stated simply.

"I'm back."

Yoojung looked down, but Kyubin was sure he saw a trace of a smile in that split second before the sight was taken away from him. "Well, what would you like? We just started selling these really good blueberry muffins, you want one of those?"

"Oh, I don't really want anything right now."

"Not even to drink?" Kyubin shook his head. "Why did you come, then?"

To see you. To make you smile. To prove to myself I exist. "Junhyung isn't replying to my messages," he chose the more sensible reason for his quick reappearance. "I thought you might've heard something from Sungho."

"No, sorry. We have dance class tomorrow, though, so if I see him, I'll ask." Someone in the queue cleared their throat loudly, and Kyubin was sure he saw Yoojung's face fall. "If you want to stay, you have to order. I mean, I'd like to let it slide, but I shouldn't, so... I can make you a hot chocolate, if you like? Not to toot my own horn, but it tastes really good."

"Hot chocolate sounds perfect."

"Okay," Yoojung said, seeming slightly out of breath. "Take a seat, I'll bring it over."

Kyubin found a free spot in a faraway corner and automatically took out his laptop. The second his eyes landed on the stacks of numbers, he remembered the reason he needed to come there to rest in the first place. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.

"Hey," Yoojung shook his shoulder lightly.

Kyubin blinked frantically for a few seconds as his surroundings came into focus. He lifted his head from the armrest and winced as pain shot through his neck. Aside from the two of them, there was scarcely anyone around, and the sky outside the window was black. "Shit, did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, like a log. I wondered whether I should wake you, but it seemed like you needed it."

Kyubin sat up straight and rolled his stiff shoulders. "Damn, I'm really sorry for this, and for coming here in this state in general, I just... I didn't know where else to go. If you want me to leave, I understand."

He braced himself for rejection before looking up to meet Yoojung's eyes, but the gaze he was met with wasn't one of frustration or judgment, only gentle concern.

"I definitely don't want you to leave," Yoojung said with a hesitant smile, and while the sight didn't make the pain disappear, it made it more bearable. "Your chocolate's gone cold, though, want me to bring you a new one?"

"No, thanks." Kyubin took a sip and the taste eased some of the tension in his body. Had chocolate always been this sweet? "You're done with work?"

"I'll be closing in a few minutes, but I can step away now," Yoojung settled on the edge of the seat opposite Kyubin. "So, long day, huh?"

"Yeah, kind of," he sighed, "but if you want to complain about your day or some shitty customer, don't hesitate."

"Not really, things were pretty normal today, a couple of my friends from the dance group came in and we had a chat. If you wanna talk about whatever's going on with you, then I'm all ears."

Kyubin's initial impulse was to protest, but the inquiring look in Yoojung's eyes compelled him to accept the crumb of compassion. After the nap, his numbness to the issue gave way to frustration and disappointment, and he felt like if he refused to talk about it at all, he'd eventually implode. "I've found myself in a weird spot. At work, I mean."

Yoojung leaned forward a little more as if he couldn't let a single word pass him by, and the open curiosity was just as charming as everything else about him. "What is it that you do?"

"I'm an accountant, I work for the Adding Gold company on Yeoui Island. It's kind of funny, because I've never had what you could call an inclination toward anything in this field, my math teachers would probably laugh if they found out that's what I'm doing. I made an effort, though, plus I had a good tutor through university. For a while, everything was fine, but... I've been falling behind for months, and my boss just assigned me a shitton of new clients on top of everything else. Not for nothing, because he also offered me a promotion in the same breath."

"You're not psyched about the offer," Yoojung saw right through him.

"I'm not," Kyubin admitted, "because it's not even genuine. He tried to sell me a story about a future promotion, but, I don't know. This just seems like a way to push me to work harder, while at the same time making me someone he can point to if anyone suspects foul play, since the one they actually want to promote right now has family connections."

"Can't something be done about this kind of corruption?" Yoojung frowned. "Someone you could turn to who could work this out?"

As much as Kyubin didn't want to, he had to acknowledge that Wookjin did earn this. While Kyubin had to keep himself awake at night to get everything done in time, there Wookjin was, no dark circles under his eyes, greeting everyone with a wide smile, getting so much work done Kyubin would've had to stop sleeping altogether to keep up.

Kyubin kept the man at a distance because he was a reminder of the school rivalries egged on by parents and teachers, a constant rush to prove Kyubin could do better than those with innate talent, that his hard work could compensate for everything he was lacking. But he was an adult now, and he could admit defeat.

"Wookjin is good at what he does," he conceded. "There's not doubt that he deserves it."

"But?"

"But what?"

"I thought you were going to say something along the lines of But I deserve it more, because I've worked harder for it." Yoojung got right to the root of the problem again, seemingly by accident.

"That's how it should work, right? The amount of effort I put in should matter, even if the results aren't as amazing as everyone else's. I thought all I have to do is just keep this up, and it would all make sense eventually, that if I tried harder than everyone else and showed I was the most dedicated, I would eventually prove something, but... "

Yoojung smiled sympathetically. "At last, the burnout arrived?"

"Yeah, I guess that's the best way to put it. Maybe the only way to put it. I'm just so tired of this, and I feel like I've been tired every day of my life for a very, very long time. Every day feels the same, I don't change, nothing changes." He massaged his temples to ease the headache coming on. "Sorry, I shouldn't be putting this on you, I'm just a little lost right now. I'm shutting up."

He wished coffee shops sold alcohol, but since there was no way to satisfy that craving, he took another sip of the chocolate and closed his eyes to relish in the rich sweetness. It didn't make sense that something made by a machine was the first taste he'd enjoyed in a while. All Yoojung did was push a few buttons, but he still managed to affect Kyubin's senses in a profound way.

He opened his eyes to catch Yoojung quickly glancing away, and he pushed the cup his way. "Would you like a sip?"

Yoojung let out a bark of laughter. "First you're okay with listening to me complain about this job, now you wanna share a drink you're paying me to make you. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Well, it's only fair. I'm filling the quota of oversharing strangers for the week, aren't I?"

"You're hardly a stranger," Yoojung protested, "and the more you tell me, the less of a stranger you become. That's what we want, isn't it?"

"But doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? If I'm talking about my issues, and you're listening and serving, that..." That means I'm no different from the rest.

Yoojung shook his head, and Kyubin found that even the way his hair danced with such a simple gesture was charming. "You're thinking about this way too deeply. We're just talking, and you did say we can talk about whatever I want, didn't you? So if you feel like venting about difficult stuff, then I wanna hear it."

Even though it was said so casually, Kyubin couldn't help but latch onto that hint of genuine empathy, and it worked just like alcohol, an addictive taste that loosened his tongue uncontrollably. "I just- I feel like I'm not really in charge of my life sometimes. Like reality is happening next to me, all around me, but I have zero impact on anything, so I might as well just... accept that it's in my nature to feel miserable. Do you- have you ever felt something like that?"

Yoojung blinked. Once, twice. A tick of the clock, silence.

Kyubin opened his mouth to apologize for thinking this was a normal thing to profess, when Yoojung said, "Yeah, I have an idea of what that's like." He looked and sounded calm, almost too calm, in a way that seemed overly controlled.

"And... how do you deal with that?"

"I remind myself that it's all bullshit," Yoojung replied in that same serene voice, but the smile with which he punctuated his sentences was gone. "Nobody's inconsequential. We may feel like everything's always out of our hands, like we're meant to be stuck and just accept it, but we can make choices that will leave an impact. We have control over our lives. Some aspects, at least. Enough to make a difference."

Kyubin was sure that Yoojung was younger than him, but in that moment, it felt like the reverse was true. Even though it was spoken with cold distance, he sensed a deeper ache hidden beneath the surface.

The longer the silence went on, the more apparent Yoojung's inner tension as he waited for a reaction became, and it dawned on Kyubin just how eager and unsure both of them were about this, about what they were trying to achieve here. The atmosphere felt fragile as thin porcelain, and Kyubin's single ill-chosen word could cause an irreversible crack, but he couldn't just not say anything and allow Yoojung to shatter in that silence.

"That was really wise," he said. "Sounds like you figured out something I should probably work on."

Yoojung shrugged, looking anywhere but at Kyubin. "I mean, I know I'm just some guy, and I don't wanna overstep, but... I'm just saying, you don't need to stand for this. If you feel like your hard work isn't appreciated, or if you're dissatisfied with anything, it's in your power to do something about it."

Kyubin supposed that statement was meant to make him feel encouraged, but instead, it made him feel even more pressured. All that stood between him and a better life was himself, and that was a hell of a thing to face head-on.

He chuckled to calm down the sudden rush of existential dread. "I think you're very far from being just some guy."

Yoojung leaned his chin on his fist. "So are we officially not strangers anymore?"

"I guess so. Then, in the spirit of not being strangers, maybe you'd like to talk about dance, or anything else that-"

"Your hair is messed up," Yoojung interrupted suddenly. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but you moved around a lot during your nap, so it's a little out of place here and there."

"Does it look very bad?" Kyubin combed his fingers through it, trying to gauge the state.

Yoojung stood up and Kyubin copied the move as if on autopilot, letting Yoojung stand so close he could count his eyelashes if he tried. His breath caught when Yoojung's hand touched him, the soft sound all too audible in the empty café. The moment stretched as Yoojung's fingers gently swept along the strands, putting the misplaced locks where they should be.

"All done," he whispered, breath warming Kyubin's cheek. Their eyes met for a paralyzing half a second and Yoojung was stepping away, taking the remnants of air in Kyubin's lungs with him. If this was his method of avoiding uncomfortable questions, Kyubin would gladly take the bait again.

He sat back down and did his best not to sound like his heart was ready to leap out of his chest when he said, "Thanks for that. And, look, about what you said before... I want to know more, too. About you. Difficult things included."

Yoojung looked around like he'd rather excuse himself and leave, but eventually also sat down. "Ask away, then."

"I know that dancing is a hobby of yours, so I guess I'd like to know more about that. How you first got interested in it, that sort of thing." He aimed for a topic he hoped would be pleasant to Yoojung, but the lightly furrowed brows and relentlessly tapping fingers hinted at his persisting discomfort. It seemed that sharing things like this was new territory to them both, but Kyubin waited patiently, his curiosity about the other man insatiable.

"I've always felt drawn to it," he answered eventually, "but if we're talking about a moment that made it clear to me, it was when my school organized a trip to see Swan Lake. Everyone said afterwards that they were bored out of their minds, but to me, it was... magical. It's like, I knew I was watching professional dancers act out something created over a hundred years ago, but it was so easy to forget all of it and just watch the characters' desires and pain unfold in real time. I don't know, I can't really explain it, but it was like every little thing I've ever felt fell into place that day."

"Sounds like a really powerful experience. I wouldn't have guessed you're into ballet, you don't seem like the type."

Yoojung squinted. "Okay, before we spiral into another misunderstanding, I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume you don't mean that as an insult."

Kyubin chuckled out of embarrassment. "You'd be correct. My parents took me to see ballet and opera all the time, so I guess the image in my mind of someone who likes these things isn't someone like you."

"And what's the image of someone like me in your mind?" Yoojung's eyes pinned him down, and Kyubin felt an expectation placed on himself to pick his words deliberately.

"Just... more open-minded. You don't seem like someone who calls everything created after you were born low culture, and who places higher value on things just because they're old. Which, if you do, isn't necessarily a bad thing," he clarified quickly, "I'd just find it a bit surprising, that's all."

"I definitely don't think ballet is the end all, be all," Yoojung admitted. "I mean, I did initially want to learn it, but after that didn't work out, I started watching videos of modern dancers and imitating them, and that felt more natural."

"Modern dance is a whole lot less challenging, right? I'm genuinely asking, I'm afraid I never really got the appeal of modern art in general." The second the words came out of Kyubin's mouth, everything about Yoojung turned twice as tense as before.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied curtly and started to pick out nonexistent dirt from beneath his pristine nails, his face expressionless, shoulders stiffly squared.

Kyubin felt inclined to drop the subject altogether and opt for something more casual, something that would put an end to the discomfort he just couldn't seem to stop provoking. He just wanted to get to know Yoojung better, and there were so many topics to choose from – family members, holiday plans, opinions on current events going on in the world, and yet... all of this sounded an awful lot like the dates he went on in university, back when he still lived close enough to his parents to make an attempt.

The conversations he had with the women were polite, sometimes even quite engaging, but the dates never resulted in anything long-lasting. There were, of course, other reasons for this, but the one that stood out in his mind was how shallow everything felt in comparison to this.

And, yes, skipping all the simple matters and breaching their boundaries was painfully uncomfortable, quite obviously to both of them, but Kyubin had a sneaking suspicion that kinship was created through embracing the uncomfortable and offering cautious sincerity.

"My understanding of art may be lacking," he started carefully, "but from what I know, modern art focuses a lot more on self-expression rather than perfectly mastered skill. To be clear, I don't see that as a bad thing. I'm sure if that's the draw for you, then it must have merit."

Yoojung reached for Kyubin's cup, brushing his hand in the process, and took a sip from the same spot Kyubin drank from. Whether it was meant to communicate a silent thank you at his attempt to understand or was just another flirtatious distraction didn't really matter, because he followed it up with an honest answer.

"There has to be balance between the two in modern dance as well, it's definitely not easy to learn. Personally, I like to focus more on the expression part, but I'm also working hard to catch up with my skills. Before I started attending lessons at the studio, I was just dancing in my room, so I'm nowhere near as good as those who made it their entire life and poured huge sums of money into perfecting their talent."

"If you're focusing on different aspects, then surely there's no reason to compare yourself to them?"

Yoojung bit his lip and looked down. "If it was just about having fun, then yeah, but not when you're attending auditions. How many hours you put in and what school you went to is valued disproportionately more than whatever personal feelings you put into it, but..."

"It's your dream to dance full time, as a job?" Kyubin guessed.

"I know you probably think it's a waste of time," Yoojung's gaze was on his shoes by then, "and I know it's not very reasonable, but..."

"I think working towards living your dream is very commendable, and that it must take a ton of effort and resilience."

Yoojung finally met his eyes with visible relief written on his face, making Kyubin wonder as to what kind of reaction he was expecting. "Yeah, it hasn't been easy. It's not an easy industry to break into."

"The idol industry, you mean?"

"It should be, shouldn't it, cause of my looks?" He gave Kyubin a teasing glance. "No, I stopped going to idol auditions, now it's mostly those for backup dancers. Living in the spotlight like idols do isn't for me, I like having some sense of anonymity. I don't want a crowd of people to be curious about the details of what goes on in my life, you know?"

"Sounds like you're hiding some scandalous secret," Kyubin joked.

Yoojung's answering smile was mysterious. "Not that scandalous if it remains a secret, plenty already do that. The point is, I wouldn't want to hide, but I'm not exactly in charge of the public's opinion on who can sleep with whom for it to not be a huge deal."

Kyubin fiddled with his hands, unsure how to proceed after swerving the topic in that direction. "Yeah, that- that shouldn't impact anyone's career."

"It shouldn't," Yoojung agreed. "I'd rather stand behind the back of someone who can play by their rules. I-"

The door swung open, and for a moment, Yoojung just stared at the new customer blankly, as if he completely forgot what his role was in this. "Ah, right," he said under his breath and got up, putting his professional mask back on. "How can I help?"

The customer listed all the ingredients they wanted in their drink, but when they took a sip, they spit it back into the cup. "I didn't list cinnamon among the spices, did I? No, redo it, please, this won't do."

They definitely did list cinnamon, but instead of pointing it out, Yoojung redid the order. The customer tasted it again and scrunched their nose. "The last time I ordered here it was better. Sorry, don't take it personally."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Yoojung masked his sarcasm with a smile that would've appeared genuine to someone who'd never seen the alternative. He hadn't shown this side of himself to Kyubin since they cleared up their misunderstanding, and the noticeable contrast between these two versions of him assured Kyubin that if Yoojung wasn't being sincere, he'd know it right away.

After the door closed, Yoojung rolled his eyes. "Prime example of why I'm going to those auditions. I'd rather be judged for my dancing than throwing stuff into a cup." He turned the sign on the door over, and Kyubin glanced at his watch to confirm it was indeed past the closing hour. Instead of asking him to leave, though, Yoojung gave him a smile that looked radiant even from a distance. "Would you like another chocolate? It tastes much better hot, trust me."

Kyubin nodded, and when the drink was placed in front of him, he said, "I see I'm a customer with special privileges."

"My boss often lets me hang out here after hours cause it's more spacious than my flat, and it's easier to dance without knocking shit over. I'm not supposed to have company, but whatever, as long as he doesn't find out, it won't hurt him."

Kyubin took a sip to hide his smile and hummed with satisfaction. "Damn, you get to spend your whole days among tasty things while I'm destroying my spine and eyesight."

Yoojung raised his eyebrow skeptically. "I know this seems like a fun job, and like it's easy, but-"

"No, I didn't mean to imply that it's easy," Kyubin shook his head vigorously before he unknowingly stumbled into another insensitive remark. "I'm just in the mood to badmouth my own job, that's all."

"I mean, in comparison to accounting, it probably is easy," Yoojung conceded. "The pay is shit, but it's better than some other alternatives, that's for sure. Not only am I allowed to work on my dancing, I'm also able to save up enough energy to do so, whether here or at the studio."

"I must say, I'm a little envious of that. I like working out, and I used to go to the gym three times a week, but then that turned into once a week, and... it's been over two months since I went at all." He hoped his voice didn't betray how ashamed of the fact he was.

Yoojung's eyebrows drew together in concern. "Seriously, your job is draining you this much? No wonder you're falling asleep in public places, then." And there it was, further proof that his interest in these tedious details wasn't just wishful thinking on Kyubin's part – Yoojung leaned forward, awaiting Kyubin to speak, his eyes focused like he wanted to figure out what made Kyubin into the person sitting in front of him. Everything about him said, Tell me, tell me, I wanna know.

"I wouldn't say it's all because of my job, but... yeah, I guess it's the biggest offender. It hasn't always been like this, though. I used to enjoy the routine."

"But now the time has come to break the routine once and for all?"

Kyubin sighed. "I don't know. Once I committed to something, I'd like to see it through until the end, I think."

"Until retirement?" Yoojung asked skeptically.

The sheer thought of that was daunting. Kyubin shrugged before it could begin to feel a little too real. "I'm just going through a bit of a rough patch, that's why I'm finding it hard to care about the work. In theory, I know that what we do at the company is practical and necessary, but it's hard to look at the bigger picture when there's no... no tangible satisfaction that comes from it every single day."

"Yeah, I bet they didn't warn about that during the job interview."

Kyubin huffed out a laugh. "They should've, right? Or put it right at the top of the contract in big, red letters: Beware, you have no idea what you're getting into." He sighed. "Maybe there's an alternate universe where I'm a- a car racer, a comedian, an actor, whatever. Maybe all three at once, that would be a life. I'd be a proper triple threat."

Yoojung shook his head. "Don't think like that for too long, it won't do you any good. I think it's better to accept that you've gotten to this point, but that doesn't mean you have to stay in this place forever. All of these things, and more, are still available to you."

His earnestness made Kyubin want to believe it, but one man's conviction wasn't enough to undo the years of self-sabotage, even if that one man was Yoojung. "Perspective is a funny thing, I'm realising. Looking back now, I think on some level I knew I'd eventually regret it, but even if I was given a chance to go back, I honestly can't imagine myself making a different choice. Weird, right?"

Yoojung tilted his head with a thoughtful look on his face. "It kinda seems like it wasn't entirely your choice."

"My parents were the ones who recommended it," Kyubin admitted. "They were certain this would be a good path to take, so I went along. In hindsight, I have to say, it was quite pathetic of me. Even though I was an adult, I still wanted to be told what's right and what's wrong."

Yoojung frowned, his fingers tracing random patterns on the tablecloth. "Parents can try to make themselves seem like the biggest truth tellers in the world, but they're not, they just like the control it gives them. They should've supported you through this instead of forcing you into their little box." There was an angry edge to his voice that suggested this was deeply personal.

"I take it your parents weren't keen on you pursuing dance?"

"You could say that," Yoojung replied curtly. And there it was again, a barrier, a sign of a larger story that Kyubin wasn't privy to.

Though this embracing of uncomfortable transparency seemed one-sided at times, Kyubin wasn't deterred in his quest to know as much about the other man as he was willing to say. "So, um, whenever I went to see ballet, I kept wondering what's going through the minds of the performers – are they thinking about the story they're presenting, or are they focusing solely on their body movements. You're the first dancer I have a chance to ask, so which is it?"

"A bit of both," Yoojung started slowly, as if he needed to weigh every single word individually. "No matter how well I know the routine, I can't lose myself in it because it would be irresponsible, especially when I'm performing something synchronized with other people. But I can't focus too much on the technicalities, either, because then I'd fail to communicate the emotions, and... that's the most important thing about dancing for me. To make the people watching recognise that dance can express what we all feel, no matter how intimate or complicated."

"Wow, that's...You seem like a real artist," Kyubin said frankly. "I may not understand this very well, but it sounds compelling, and I'd be really interested to see how it looks."

With each word, a genuine smile returned to Yoojung's face, lighting up his eyes and with it, the entire room. He didn't just look relieved, he looked grateful, and if Kyubin's suspicions were correct, he sincerely wished never to come face to face with the people who made Yoojung fear disclosing how much this meant to him.

"Sungho posts videos of our practice, if that's something you'd like to see."

Kyubin handed him his phone. "Of course, could you find them for me?"

"Don't get your hopes up too much, I'm probably nowhere near as good as you're imagining," Yoojung said humbly as he typed.

Kyubin raised his eyebrow, not convinced in the slightest. Yoojung moved with utmost grace when he did the simplest things, like tucking hair behind his ear, so a choreographed dance involving his entire body must've been a sight to behold. "Are you just saying that so I'll be more surprised when I see it?"

Yoojung smirked. "What kind of a dancer would I be if I didn't toy with your expectations? That's, like, half the skill."

Kyubin went to hide the phone in his pocket, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. "Watch it now."

"Why?"

Yoojung's pupils darted to one side and the other like they were trying to find an appropriate answer written in the air. In the end, he shrugged, "I'm just curious what you'll think."

Kyubin pulled up the first result, but had trouble finding Yoojung on the small screen due to the lack of expected blond hair. "Where are you? Ah, here you-"

He went speechless for the next few minutes. The video was on mute, and while Yoojung wasn't at the front of the formation for most of it, his movements dictated the atmosphere in a way that was simply mesmerizing. He stood out in a room filled with talented people.

What pulled Kyubin in fully and made him forget the world around him, though, were Yoojung's focused eyes and his constantly shifting expressions, intense and vivid even when he danced in the background. The way his eyes fixed on the camera was not how one looked at an inanimate object, but at a person whose attention he wanted to keep on himself. Seeing this completely different dimension to his energy made Kyubin's expectations feel very much toyed with.

The video ended and Kyubin put his facial muscles in check when he realized his lips had been parted. He must've done a poor job at feigning nonchalance, because Yoojung was looking at him in a way that made it hard to meet his gaze. Inquiring, perceptive. Something else Kyubin didn't dare name.

"Would it be fair to say you enjoyed it?" he asked with a teasing tilt.

Kyubin cleared his throat. "Well, you know. I'm not one to judge, but..." he fidgeted and stuffed his hands in his pockets, not able to look at Yoojung for more than half a second. "You're good. Not that my opinion matters."

"It does. What did you like the most?"

Part of Kyubin wished to escape the conversation, another part craved to satisfy Yoojung's curiosity. That part won. "I liked your confidence, and that by your expressions alone, I could tell what the mood of the music was. There was an... an attitude, is that the right word? You looked like you were in control of the entire room."

Yoojung quirked an eyebrow. "That's on point, that's what I was trying to give. It was one of the first I also choreographed, but I think I've gotten a lot better since then."

"I'd love a more recent recommendation, then."

"You know what, I think you might enjoy-" he took Kyubin's phone again- "this one. Don't watch it now, though, save it for when you're alone." His fingers brushed Kyubin's palm as he handed the phone back, and the spark in his gaze should've been a tell-tale sign that Kyubin was in danger.

"I'll watch it tonight," he promised. He glanced at his phone before pocketing it to remember the title, and his eyes fell on the clock at the top of the screen. "Oh, wow, it's gotten late. I should probably be heading back. Time just flew by, didn't it?"

"It usually does in good company."

"Right, about that... I'm usually more put together than this, and I'm really, really sorry for falling asleep here-"

"This was the highlight of my day," Yoojung stated simply, and Kyubin wanted to believe him.

He was already by the door when Yoojung caught up to him with a white box in his hands. He'd just turned off all the lights in the café, so Kyubin wasn't sure if that nervous edge to his smile was actually there, or just a product of his imagination.

"This isn't something that we sell," Yoojung said. "I sometimes bring myself a cupcake for lunch, but today, I packed an extra one, just in case of, uh, a certain someone showing up again. But you don't have to take it," he added quickly, "I put a bunch of dried fruits in the dough, maybe you don't like that stuff."

Kyubin looked at the box, and then at Yoojung's hopeful face. "You baked a cupcake... with me in mind?"

"I guess so, yeah. You don't find it weird, do you?"

"No, no, not at all, I'm just- you had no way of knowing I'd come over today."

Yoojung shrugged sheepishly. "Maybe I baked a wish into the cupcake and it came true." He was standing there without his apron on, as if he made it a point to offer the gift not as a barista, but as a regular guy.

Kyubin lifted the lid, and the scent made his stomach rumble. He brought it up to his mouth and took a bite, watching the anticipation on Yoojung's face grow. The dough melted in his mouth, and he forced himself to stop at one bite to let Yoojung know immediately, "This is the best thing I've eaten in months."

"I find that hard to believe, but thank you," Yoojung chuckled with relief.

"No, seriously," he went in for a second bite to prove his point, "I don't know what you put in there, but it's working. It's not drugged, is it?"

"I don't know, is vanilla extract addictive?"

"If it is, I know where to come for another fix."

That made Yoojung laugh in a way Kyubin wasn't sure he'd ever caused, and he wanted to feel the shape of that smile with his lips. His feet didn't share that desire and stayed rooted in place, which was probably for the better.

After he had a shower, he pulled up the video titled Crave, layed back on his bed and turned up the volume. The song started with an upbeat sound, but a few seconds were enough for Kyubin to sense something darker underlying the fast beat. Though he couldn't understand much of the lyrics, those that he deciphered confirmed that it wasn't all light and fun.

Yoojung's hair was longer in this video, almost reaching his chin. He was wearing black from head to toe, an outfit that would've been strictly elegant had it not been for the mesh shirt that left little to the imagination and the choker around his neck. By contrast, the rest of the dancers wore white shirts and black ties, and their movements synchronized with each other, while Yoojung was the only one who moved independently.

He traded his ability to move powerfully for sultriness and grace, emphasizing the atmosphere of the music. Once again, Kyubin found himself entranced by his facial expressions which shifted between unabashed confidence and something more somber, offering Kyubin a bit more clarity about the performance than he would've had otherwise. He got so into appreciating this one element that he had to rewind to the beginning and at least try to pay attention to the choreography as a whole.

About half a minute in, one of the dancers started to break off from the rest who still continued to dance in a uniform fashion. His eyes were on Yoojung, and he seemed to want to create some interaction between them, but Yoojung remained oblivious even when the other man started to put his hands on his body. When they finally faced each other, Yoojung's nonchalance persisted. The result was something akin to a pair dance, but one that consisted of a lackluster push and pull.

When the music shifted into a calmer, dreamier section, all of the identically dressed dancers left Yoojung to perform alone. His eyes looked into the camera with a different emotion, one that accentuated his already provocative body movements. He wasn't asking the person watching to simply pay attention anymore, no, he was being actively seductive. Kyubin felt a jolt of arousal when he remembered that Yoojung wanted him to see this. He was chosen as the one to meet that heated gaze.

Just before the song was about to end, the dancer he was paired with came back into the frame, and this time, Yoojung was no longer indifferent. He took the man's tie into his hand and jerked him closer, then put his other hand on the top of his head and pushed him down to his knees so his face ended up situated right in front of Yoojung's crotch. As the other dancer's hands came up to grab his hips, Yoojung closed his eyes and threw his head back, making everything about the scene blatantly sexual.

As the final notes drifted through the tiny speaker, Yoojung imitated a kick to the other man's chest to make him fall to the ground. He gave the camera one final, satisfied look, and, involuntarily, Kyubin touched the hollow spot between his collarbones where the knot of the tie would rest.

It was hard to fall asleep afterwards as he rebelled against his own needs, mind conjuring up image after image, body wide awake and wanting; just another way Yoojung brought him back to teenage years when he refused to touch himself for fear of the thoughts it enticed. He thought this part of his shame had been dealt with already, but for the first time in his adult life, he refused to indulge. He'd hold out until it hurt too much, only then he'd give in.

His desire had always been complicated, that was just the nature of the thing. First, he didn't know it existed at all, then it was all he could think about, and, simultaneously, all he was supposed to not think about. Nobody could be expected to grow up normal in a reality so contradictory.

If he closed his eyes, he could see clear as day the kind of person he'd have become had it not been for Junhyung forcing him to face himself – bitter, repressed to the point of refusing to touch another man under any circumstances, irritated by everyone else's happiness.

The secret he never managed to crack was how, to others, sexuality could be joyful. He saw people separate from a deep kiss and look at each other with smiles on their faces, and he ached. He saw men on the dance floor, laughing, twirling, embracing each other with varying degrees of innocence and lack thereof, and he ached.

No joy came from his one night stands. Each of them was a high, fast and intense, at the end of which came relief, enough of it to last him a few weeks without such contact. But no joy.

If he got to have Yoojung like that, it would be joyful, every cell in his body knew it. Something as simple as a smile never felt significant in fueling his desire, but with Yoojung, it did. And while obtaining this joy wasn't promised, for once, it was within his reach, so close he could count its eyelashes and feel its breath on his cheek.

He left his apartment earlier than usual with the intention of getting his mind to wake up by walking to work. At the very first crosswalk, he almost stepped in front of a car when he failed to notice the red light, so taking the bus was the only option that involved living a little longer. Throughout the day, he kept loosening his tie absentmindedly, and then quickly tightening it when he caught a reflection of himself and remembered the cause of his state.

To his own demise, Wookjin chose that morning to come over by his desk again, and Kyubin wasn't sure what took over him. His only excuse was that he was pent up, had only one coffee in his system, and the lack of rest made reality feel wholly inconsequential.

"Hey, boss told me we're both up for the promotion!" The younger man greeted him cheerfully. "Good work we've done, isn't it? I never imagined I'd get an offer like this so soon, I thought I'd have to wait three more years, at least. And you, I mean, it's long overdue for you. What do you say we get a drink after work to celebrate?"

"Are you having fun?" Kyubin snapped, facing Wookjin and not even attempting to hide his annoyance.

Wookjin looked at him cautiously. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean that you'll obviously get promoted and I won't, I'm well aware of that. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"No, Boss told me the opinions of the board are split, so they haven't made a decision yet. Come on, give me some fighting spirit, I like a fair competition."

"Except it's not fair, so just drop it, okay?"

Wookjin scoffed, "Okay, what's your problem? If you don't wanna get drunk to celebrate, fine, get drunk to relax, but just come with us once."

"For the final time, no," Kyubin shifted his focus back to the screen. "I don't have time for this, I've got my own shit to deal with."

Wookjin scoffed, "Yeah, clearly. I'd say the offer still stands, but... message received." He started to leave, but before he did, he turned around once more. "Just a friendly suggestion, but you should stop acting like you're so above everyone else all the time. You're not better than me just because you don't have any social life. Good luck with whatever it is you need luck with."

If cubicles had doors, his would've been slammed shut. Kyubin followed Wookjin with his eyes as he went over to someone a few desks away, pulled out a bottle of juice from his bag and engaged them in a friendly conversation, zero trace of the previous interaction on his face.

It was past the usual time Kyubin left the workplace when he got back to his desk with the fifth coffee of the day in hand, and was greeted by the sight of Yongsoo.

"I messed up a client's files," the young man said with an apologetic smile, "could you help me sort them out?"

Kyubin sighed as if he'd rather be doing anything else, well aware Yongsoo saw through the pretend. "Sit," he commanded simply.

He took him through every step he got wrong and let him fill in some of the blanks to ensure he learned the whole process quicker. Yongsoo hanged onto every word, writing down the advice or repeating it out loud. Kyubin used to find the habit annoying until he saw how effective it was in helping Yongsoo retain the information.

Being around Yongsoo made Kyubin feel differently than being around other colleagues did. With others, he was always on guard, always on the defensive, feeling like a small misstep might shatter the carefully crafted illusion and ruin everything he'd built.

Yongsoo didn't have high expectations for Kyubin's mentorship, he just didn't want to fall behind his company peers. His energy and enthusiasm, though bewildering at first, slowly became infectious. Even when he got a little too comfortable and made little jabs and jokes at Kyubin's expense, it was hard not to like him.

Being in his presence allowed Kyubin to do something that felt important – pass his knowledge onto someone who'd do something better with it. If he could, he'd stretch their little sessions out into hours, just to feel useful for a moment longer.

Once they finished, Yongsoo gave him a grateful smile that made Kyubin want to ruffle his hair against all professional protocols. "Go home, you shouldn't be here at this hour."

"If you can be, so can I."

"You're still young, you need those precious hours of sleep."

"Alright, grandpa," Yongsoo mumbled defiantly as he gathered his materials thrown messily all over the desk. Suddenly, he reached behind the monitor and handed Kyubin a small bottle of organic juice nonchalantly.

"Where did that come from?"

"It's Wookjin's, he left this here."

"Oh. By accident?"

"No, as a gift, he gave these to everyone. Look, he gave me one too," he took out a bottle from his bag and his smile widened as he stared at it. His interest in Wookjin was in no way subtle, and part of Kyubin wanted to warn him to be more discreet, while another part wanted him to remain exactly like this, damn the consequences.

He felt a pang of guilt as he opened the juice that was gifted to him, an undeserved treat at the end of the day. That was just what Wookjin did, wasn't it? His invitations, drinks and conversation were offered to everyone for the sake of making their day better, and he made sure not to single anyone out. He would've congratulated any other colleague in the same position, no matter how misplaced the enthusiasm was, because he was just earnest like that.

Kyubin knew if he went to the café, he'd just end up falling asleep again, so he headed straight home.

Even though his body and mind were fully worn out during the entire day, once his head hit the pillow, he was on edge all over again. His fingers itched to crawl beneath the waistband, and for fuck's sake, it shouldn't have been such a big deal. Yoojung wouldn't know what he was being used for in Kyubin's mind, he wouldn't feel this breach of privacy across the city. Would he?

Maybe he was laying in his bed just like Kyubin was, and maybe he wasn't fighting it back. Maybe Kyubin had been on his mind all day long, and he couldn't wait to finally be alone to relieve himself of the building tension.

The images were so vivid, it felt like they were demanding not to be suppressed; Yoojung's scent intensified in its sensuality as it mixed with his sweat, his hair forming a halo on the pillow when he threw his head back, his hand around himself...

Kyubin dug his nails into his palms and held back. The thought of facing Yoojung after allowing himself to feel all of this was enough to make him keep his hands firmly by his sides, sleep failing to mercifully relieve him of the dilemma.

This odd connection the two of them had was much more complicated than anything else he'd ever navigated. He wasn't used to his thoughts being preoccupied with one specific person, and he deeply regretted not getting off more frequently before Yoojung was the only one on his mind. Yoojung, who asked simple questions and wanted complicated answers, who tried to understand what nobody else did, who had deeply hidden secrets he was willing to hint at. None of it made Kyubin want him less. If anything, he wanted to be bare with him even more, body and mind, even soul, if such a thing existed.

But was Yoojung okay with him feeling like this, desiring him this much? It felt like they were on the same page about it when they stood face to face, when Yoojung touched his hair and stroked his palm like he wanted to keep doing it, but in the dark night, with nothing but blank white walls surrounding him, nothing felt certain.

He couldn't help suspecting the video was meant to be some sort of test. Yoojung realized how attracted to him Kyubin was, it was impossible to hide. That was how the whole ulterior motive thing came up in the first place, but in hindsight, its meaning was really unclear. Did it mean that Kyubin could never ask for more, or just until Yoojung knew what he was getting into? Was the video supposed to tease Kyubin and make him choose what's more important, talking to Yoojung or getting into his pants?

There was no way Kyubin would ask him to his face for a clarification. No, he'd rather suffer.

He got up at 6AM and headed straight for the gym, the strain on his muscles a pleasant distraction from the raging emotions.

Notes:

Can you tell I really like Taeyeob's dancing? Cause I'm being very subtle about it.

Chapter 3: flashing bOlt

Notes:

I forgot to put this in the chapter notes, but the song that Yoojung danced to in chapter 2 is Crave by Years & Years! A very OnlyOneOf-esque song if I do say so myself, and one that ties in with Yoojung's backstory.

The sun has no right to heat everything up after it sets, Kyubin thought as he fanned himself while waiting for the bus to take him back to his apartment. It must've seemed obvious to anyone who looked at him that if he just took off his tie and vest, he wouldn't need a breeze to cool off, but the sweat stains on his back had already begun to form and he preferred to spare people the sight. And as for the tie... well, it would've felt odd not to have it on. Maybe he was a masochist.

The sun has no right to heat everything up after it sets, Kyubin thought as he fanned himself while waiting for the bus to take him back to his apartment. It must've seemed obvious to anyone who looked at him that if he just took off his tie and vest, he wouldn't need a breeze to cool off, but the sweat stains on his back had already begun to form and he preferred to spare people the sight. And as for the tie... well, it would've felt odd not to have it on. Maybe he was a masochist.

The screen informing of the buses' arrival added another three minutes of delay, and he couldn't stand idly anymore. Although catching an air conditioned taxi was an option, he needed to straighten his legs. He'd drunk enough coffee in the last few hours to stay alert of the red and green lights, so he set out to walk the route in hope that the bus would catch up to him at a later stop.

The past week of work felt like a fever-induced dream, which would've been a hyperbole if he didn't actually have a fever on Wednesday. He still showed up at work to demonstrate his dedication, hoping that his boss would be impressed and send him home, but as usual, doing his best wasn't good enough. Some sleep-deprived, paranoid part of Kyubin was sure that this was the plan all along, to get him as close to having a breakdown as possible and promote Wookjin as if to say, Look, everyone, we’re making a fair choice, because this other guy is barely alive.

As if that wasn't enough, his boss walked by his cubicle just as he was taking Yongsoo through the mistakes he made while calculating his client's company profit. "What's this now? Mr. Shin, you're really not in a position to be distracting yourself with helping out others."

Yongsoo leapt to his feet and bowed. Kyubin followed suit and rushed to say the first excuse that came to mind, "Yongs- Mr. Lee is still new, I'm just trying to get him accommodated."

"That's not really your job, is it? Mr. Lee, was the training you received ineffective? Should I have a word with Ms. Kim from HR?"

Yongsoo shook his head vigorously. "No, I-"

"Actually, the truth is that I asked him here to help me sort something out," Kyubin explained calmly, hoping his hand on Yongsoo's shoulder conveyed Play along. "I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again."

Their boss shook his head disbelievingly. "It better not. Using a younger employee's time like this and lying about it? What's gotten into you? I expect all the overdue files on my desk this evening, and sooner rather than later."

Kyubin bowed and waited for the man to leave the room completely before turning to Yongsoo with a reassuring smile. "That was close, but you're not in any trouble."

The look on Yongsoo's face was deeply remorseful. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea you have so much on your plate."

"Let's just finish up, okay?"

"No, I can ask someone else-"

"No need, he's gone." He waved off Yongsoo's further protests, but once they finished, Yongsoo's mind was made up.

"I'm genuinely super sorry, I won't get you in trouble again, I'll just try to work it out myself from now on. Thank you for all the help, really, I probably would've gotten fired already if it wasn't for you."

Kyubin couldn't think up any excuse to persuade him otherwise in order to keep their little sessions going, and he resented his boss for ruining the one thing that made his job make sense. He gave Yongsoo a pat on the shoulder. "You've worked hard, I'm sure you won't have any issues with this in no time."

No good word came from his boss when Kyubin put the assignments on his desk, nothing that would make him feel like he'd actually done a decent job. All he got was a nod of acknowledgement; the pinnacle of executive poise. Each time, he contrasted that detachment with the focus Yoojung kept on him, and remembered there was one place in the world where he would be welcomed.

His feet picked up on the trail of thought and changed their direction. As much as he wished he could hold out until he sorted himself out and got a grip on his life, that day seemed to only get further away, and he'd lose any shot he ever had if he kept waiting.

Yoojung was moving among the tables with a mop in his hands, dancing rather than cleaning, and Kyubin halted outside the window. He’d only seen him like this from across the street, but never from a distance that would allow him to see the unabashedly carefree smile on his face as his lips moved along to something inaudible through the glass.

Kyubin pushed the door open, and Yoojung startled mid-twirl, but the joy didn't subside; if anything, his smile only grew wider. Silly how such a little thing made the weariness of the past week fade from Kyubin's consciousness in an instant.

"Hey!" Yoojung yelled over the music and took out his phone to turn the volume down. "I was wondering when-" He frowned when he took in Kyubin’s appearance. "Bad day?"

"There's been better ones," Kyubin admitted, although he wasn't sure when. "I take it yours has been better? You have a lot of energy left."

Yoojung shrugged, but even when he tried to downplay his elation, there was an undeniable glow around him. "I can't sit still cause my mind's rushing to come up with a new choreography."

Kyubin pointed at the mop in his hands. "Is this a prop you're trying out?"

"I don't know, maybe." He executed an elaborate twirl around the mop, then took the handle into his arms with as much care as if it was a real person and dipped it over his knee. "How does this look?"

"Like you’re dancing with a partner rather than a prop."

"That's because it’s very well-trained and I'd hate to waste its talent. Actually, every prop I use has to go through very rigorous lessons before it has the honor of dancing with me. The tie included." He quirked his eyebrows suggestively. "So, what did you think? Any observations you'd like to share? Compliments to the creator?"

Kyubin felt blood rush to his face, making his plan to pretend he was completely unaffected fail right at the beginning. "Well, you're- you're good. I think you know that."

"I know, but that's not gonna stop me from fishing for flattery."

It was obvious he wouldn't give up easily, so Kyubin chose his words carefully. "The choreography was... interesting."

Yoojung laughed. "Interesting, sure. Come on, I wanna hear more, audience reception is important. I told you I can take constructive criticism, didn't I?"

"Well, um, I thought the music worked really well with the dance. That part where you were alone on the screen especially, I liked how the atmosphere shifted so suddenly. It was easy to focus on how you move, and-" he cut off when he realized he was stumbling into dangerous territory. "Okay, look, I'm too exhausted to take responsibility for anything I say today, so if I do that thing where I try to say something normal but it comes out weird, please, just forget it."

"I find it hard to forget the things you say, so I'm not promising anything," Yoojung replied smoothly. "You know, I wish I could take all the credit for the choreo, but Sungho elevated it to a whole new level when he came up with that part at the end. What did you think about it?"

"Right, apropos Sungho," Kyubin gladly jumped onto a different topic, "have you heard anything from him? Junhyung's still ignoring me."

Thankfully, Yoojung didn't call him out on the obvious evasion. "He actually hasn't been showing up to the studio at all, even though he always likes to help out when we work on new choreos. Does that mean we should be getting worried?"

"It's normal for Junhyung to disappear off the face of the earth when the relationship is fresh, so it likely just means they're having a good time and forgot the rest of the world exists."

"Yeah, let's hope that's the case. So," Yoojung leaned his chin on the end of the handle, eyes innocent, smile mischievous, "thoughts about my outfit? Was it too revealing, or not revealing enough?"

Kyubin opened his mouth with a plan to say as little as possible again, when the door opened loudly to a new customer.

"My regular order," she demanded simply as she threw her purse on the counter and took out a nail file.

"Find a seat," Yoojung told him before going back behind the counter with a stiff smile. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you can't do your nails here, and I'm afraid I don't remember what order that would be."

Kyubin went over to an armchair in the corner and fell into its softness with a sigh. Minutes went by as the woman talked, and when Kyubin felt his eyes droop shut, he sat up straighter and focused on keeping himself awake. The best way to achieve that was to listen to the unfolding story of the customer's messy divorce as Yoojung feigned interest in her words.

Everything about him was impatient, from the nods and hums in seemingly random places, to the bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked away from the customer to meet Kyubin's eyes, then quickly snapped his attention back and made up for his momentary distraction with even more earnest nods. To stifle the urge to ask her if she could wrap it up and leave Yoojung alone, Kyubin texted Junhyung asking for an update, aware the effort to get his friend's attention was futile.

Sweat started to gather on his skin, and he looked around to see that the only air conditioner was in the most faraway corner of the room. Instead of moving from his comfortable spot, he gathered the longer strands of his hair into a hairband, then took off his vest and tie. When that wasn't enough to cool down, he unfastened a few buttons off the top of his shirt, fingers toying with the next one absentmindedly as he scrolled through previous messages.

"You're just like my piece of shit ex-husband, never paying attention to anything I say! Don't expect me to come back again, your coffee is the peak of mediocrity." Kyubin stared alarmedly as the woman stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Yoojung chuckled with exasperation. "So, yeah, that's what this job is like sometimes."

"Would you like to take a rest?" Kyubin pushed the chair opposite himself with his foot. A clumsy invitation, but an effective one.

"One minute," Yoojung said as he dropped into the seat and let out a sigh.

About ten seconds passed before the bell dinged again and a loud group of ten or so high schoolers came in. Yoojung's professional mask quickly fell back into place, but with each order he took, it slipped off more and more. He didn't say anything that wasn't polite, and the kids didn't seem to notice his worsening mood, but by the time they all received their orders, Kyubin could see he was properly annoyed. The second the door closed, he turned the sign over to indicate the café was closed. "There, now we can have some peace."

Kyubin looked at the clock. "Isn't the closing time half an hour away?"

Yoojung put his finger on the light switch. "What can I say, I'm feeling dangerous." As he winked, half the lamps in the café turned off. He then took out his phone and a smooth R&B tune started flowing through the speakers. Bopping his head along to the rhythm, he made his way behind the counter again with a sway in his steps, leaving Kyubin to determine what this atmosphere meant.

He looked out the window where many cars and many people kept passing, but their presence felt inconsequential in a way Kyubin hadn’t felt even once since he started living in this city. Though the barrier was nothing more than glass, delicate and transparent, it felt like Yoojung and him were in a space designed just for the two of them, invisible to the eyes of the world.

A certain inner imbalance remained somewhere deep, but he was becoming less and less conscious of it the more he slipped into the intimate mood Yoojung was creating. The shadows and the dim lights inside the café were secretive and just as inviting as Yoojung himself, making it easy to relax against the backrest and try to forget all things worrisome. Although he still wasn't sure where exactly the two of them stood as many things remained unsaid, he craved to embrace this newfound tranquility, so he allowed those thoughts to fade.

The pulsing rhythm and melody of the song coming from the speakers had already etched itself onto his brain without him realizing. He started to hum along to the final chorus when Yoojung snorted loudly and turned away from the machine he was tinkering with. "I forgot you didn't order, I just made a hot chocolate automatically. It's gonna be on the house, okay?"

"Oh, thank you," Kyubin took a sip of what was easily becoming his favorite drink. Yoojung sat across from him again and kept swaying his head, fingers tapping rhythmically on the mop handle.

Kyubin put his cup down and inhaled the scent of spices, feeling even more tension release from his muscles. "Does listening to music help you with creating choreography? I imagine that's how it works."

"Yeah, most often music is what sparks the inspiration in the first place. I come across a song that intrigues me, then I read the lyrics, think of a story, and work the choreo around it."

"How does that work, exactly? Expressing a story through dance, I mean, I never got that."

Yoojung smiled in the way that seemed to be reserved for moments like these, when Kyubin attempted to grasp what the world looked like through his eyes. "The story exists in every element, the music, the silence, the facial expressions, how big or dynamic the movements are, the distance between the dancers... I wish I could give you a straight answer, but it's all very instinctive, and it's not really supposed to make sense. Some moves just feel right when I come up with them, that's all there is to it."

Kyubin bit the inside of his cheek, hesitant as to whether he wanted to swerve the topic back to what he'd been trying to avoid. "What was… what was the story in this one? In Crave?"

"What did you think the story was?"

Kyubin thought for a moment, but eventually had to smile apologetically. "I'm not sure. I find it really hard to figure out what the artist had in mind when creating their artwork."

"I don't want you to guess what I had in mind while making it, I wanna know what you saw, what you felt, your own interpretation."

What did he see? Yoojung rejecting someone's advances, then accepting them. The very last sequence made his thoughts all jumbled up, but thinking back to it, it was the most telling moment. "It was about a conflict in a relationship, right? One person wanted something, the other not so much, but then ended up giving into it." He bit his tongue before he could add, And what he wanted was to get blown. "Sorry, I didn't really see a narrative, I can just come up with one observation."

"It's a good observation," Yoojung said encouragingly, "there's definitely a theme of conflict in there. I'll give you a tip, not just for this routine, but interpreting art in general – sometimes people don't have to be people. They can be an emotion, an abstract concept, something like that."

"Then I guess it could've been about... uncontrollable emotions? An internal battle, maybe, where you stood for something people uncontrollably want, and the other dancer couldn't stay away from you. Or maybe the other way around, he was the uncontrollable want you tried to resist but had to give into. Either way, there was no happy ending for the other guy." He frowned thoughtfully. "If I didn't know better, I'd assume you were trying to say that chasing what we want has to end with someone getting hurt. That's not what you think, though, is it? You think it's better if we express ourselves, both for us and people around us."

Yoojung stared off into space with a blank look on his face, but rather than seeming disinterested, he appeared contemplative. "Yeah, this is very different from what I had in mind, but... it makes sense you saw it that way."

"What did you have in mind?"

Yoojung smiled mysteriously. "A gentleman never tells. I'm not any more correct about the meaning than you, or any other person who sees it."

"You must be," Kyubin reasoned, "you're the creator, you know what you wanted to say."

"Yeah, but the real meaning doesn't matter when everyone projects what they feel onto it." He stated it like a neutral fact, but some bitterness slipped into his voice at the end that shattered the illusion of indifference. "Dance is just an emotional expression, and it's gonna mean different things to everyone because everyone feels differently. I can make something that someone will see a piece of themselves in, that's what's fun about modern art."

"But didn't you say you use dancing to express something too complicated for words? Don't you want people to understand that deeper meaning?"

"Yeah, well, it's better that nobody really understands." He shot up from his seat and grabbed his mop. "You know, I gotta actually clean this floor today, I wasn’t doing a very good job at that earlier."

Kyubin sensed that drilling the topic wouldn't be welcome, so he kept his mouth shut and let the sound of Yoojung's playlist fill the silence. The peace was broken by knocking on the door, which soon turned into banging. Yoojung pointed at the Closed sign and was met with an angry shout, the words muffled by the glass.

Yoojung turned to Kyubin when the person left. "This usually happens in the morning before we open, when all the caffeine addicts show up."

"To be fair to that man, the hour on the door indicates you're open now. Maybe he has a night shift or something."

"Good for him, he probably just woke up from a sweet sleep, but I'm fucking tired." He channeled his anger into viciously scrubbing the floor. Gone was the carefree smile and urge to dance, and Kyubin felt partially responsible.

"Would you like to switch for a bit? You could rest, I'll finish cleaning up."

Yoojung gave him a long look, a smile growing on his face again. "I'd never ask you to do that, but just the fact that it crossed your mind is really sweet. I'm fine, I just- I hate working in this fucking place sometimes. The name is a gross exaggeration, and whoever picked it clearly didn't look up what bliss means."

"I actually think it's quite fitting. You do great work here, and drinking this chocolate brings me as close to bliss as I've ever gotten."

"Well, that's no good." Yoojung's innocent tone did not prepare Kyubin for what he would say next. "Your partners must've done a poor job if chocolate brings you closer to bliss than them."

Kyubin tried to swallow and clear his throat at the same time, which, of course, ended with him choking. Yoojung at least took responsibility by clapping him on the back a few times, but there was no remorse in his smile.

"Sorry, I can't help myself sometimes. Seriously though, naming a coffee shop Ultimate Bliss? Like, why?"

"It does sound like the name of a strip club, a little bit," Kyubin agreed.

Yoojung raised his eyebrows. "Huh, that's not a bad idea, actually. I'd be earning a lot more if looking pretty was part of my job. You know what?" He slammed his hand on the nearest table. "Starting tomorrow, Ultimate Bliss will finally live up to its name. We'll put a pole over there," he pointed to the corner, "change the lighting a bit, and we're good to go."

Kyubin bit back an amused smile and tried to match Yoojung's genuineness. "Will you only be waiting tables, or will you utilize your other qualifications and dance as well?"

Yoojung's eyes sparkled as if Kyubin continuing the joke was the best thing that happened all day. "Why not both at the same time?"

Kyubin snorted. "You mean pouring drinks while swinging around on a pole?"

"Yeah, people will stand in a circle with their glasses, and, actually, you know what? That will be our special way of mixing drinks, and we'll call it the Ultimate Bliss original."

"So you'll intentionally spill alcohol all over the floor for the customers to slip on and injure themselves?"

"Yeah, that'll be the best part of the job! Stripper, bartender, executioner. Triple threat."

Kyubin burst into laughter. The sudden boom of his voice and the sensation of his shoulders shaking felt odd and unfamiliar, but the rest of his body welcomed this sudden rush of serotonin. As he tried to get himself under control, he looked at Yoojung, and his breath caught. There was a glowing light around his head, and for a moment, Kyubin felt like he was staring into the sun - blinding, but he would keep looking until he saw nothing but white.

Then Yoojung tilted his head, revealing the lamp that was situated behind it all along, and the spell broke. "You look completely different now from when you first walked in today," he remarked, opting to keep his full attention on Kyubin instead of returning it to the dirty floor.

Kyubin self-consciously touched the band holding his hair. "I suppose I must look a little odd."

"Oh, no, odd isn't a word I'd ever use to describe you."

There was a trace of something flirty in how he looked Kyubin up and down after saying that, and Kyubin just had to know. "What word would you use?"

"Relaxed."

"Really? That’s even more odd, because I don't think I've ever been relaxed. I feel like I'm constantly anticipating something to go wrong. Maybe I'm just incapable of relaxing."

"Of course you’re capable, everyone is." Yoojung stopped pretending he was going to continue cleaning up and sat in the chair across Kyubin. "When you came in today, you looked like someone who didn't have a single moment to unwind the whole week, but you don't look like that anymore. I'm guessing you don't feel the same, either."

"Then this is the only place on earth I can relax."

"You can't be here forever," Yoojung said wistfully, like he wished that wasn't the case.

"I know that," Kyubin sighed. "I know I should be trying harder, managing my time better, that I shouldn’t be making excuses-"

"Oh, no, what you should do is loosen up and not push yourself any harder than this. Is it this promotion, is that what’s causing you to feel like this?"

The words We don't have to talk about my issues again, not today formed in Kyubin's mind, but he couldn't get them out. "Yeah, right now that’s what I’m most stressed about. I don’t even care about the promotion, nor do I care about keeping up the optics of fairness, but… I can't neglect my clients, even the ones I didn’t ask for."

"I'm sure there's someone else that could deal with them, no?"

"Maybe, but I don’t control to whom what assignment goes to. What if that someone is already stressed and overworked? And, yes, I know this also applies to me, but what if it's someone who's new and inexperienced? I'd hate to see them struggle with this."

Yoojung nodded slowly. "You've got way more integrity than I do. If I was in your place, I'd probably prioritize myself, but your selflessness is pretty amazing. Still, why are you even staying there, in that company, in that field? You must have thought of other options that weren't forced onto you."

"This is the only thing I'm qualified for," Kyubin replied shortly, not keen to dive into the intricacies. "My parents' intention was to ensure I had a stable future, and it was a much better idea than my own."

"What was your idea?"

"Okay, you're going to laugh, and I won't blame you, but... at one point, I had an ambition to become a painter."

Yoojung leaned forward with an excited look on his face. "Why would I, of all people, laugh at that? Kyubin, what the hell, why didn't you tell me you're an artist?!"

"Oh, no, I'm really not. I mean, I had this fascination because my parents took me to a ton of museums. Always classical ones, of course, never anything past the 19th century. I didn't even have talent, I just liked holding a brush and dipping it in paint. It wouldn't have amounted to anything."

"So you don't paint at all anymore?"

"No, I haven't since-" Since he worked for a whole week, day and night, on perfecting a painting of his mom's favorite flowers, only to hear stern words about wasting his time and watch the garbage truck drive away with all his attempts a few days later. Art was just something he had to know to be cultured, never something he was supposed to enjoy. "Since I accepted that I don’t have the skills to be the next Monet."

Yoojung pursed his lips. "You can just paint for fun, you know. If the process makes you feel good, the result doesn't matter."

"It matters to me. I used to get really frustrated if it wasn't good enough, so I would try and try until it was sort of decent. I haven't got the time nor the energy for that right now."

"And we're back to the issue at play again. You know your job is just supposed to give you enough money to stay alive, right? It's not meant to drain you so much that you're not able to actually live a life."

In those words, Kyubin heard an echo of something his father said recently over the phone: If you're not the best at your job, can you even say you're living a good life? A shudder crept up on him at the reminder. "At least this job pays really well, that part I'm not complaining about."

Yoojung looked him up and down. "I figured, cause that outfit looks too stylish to be cheap."

"I know, it's not exactly the best choice for this weather."

"Then why do you wear it?"

Kyubin shrugged. "Force of habit, I suppose. My professional image doesn’t include jeans or short sleeves."

Yoojung smirked and touched Kyubin's upper arm, squeezing lightly. "It seems you've got a lot to show off, though, maybe you shouldn't rob your colleagues of the sight."

His eyes dropped to the undone top of Kyubin's shirt, and Kyubin forced his hands to stay where they were instead of buttoning it up to his neck again. He felt flattered and panicked in equal measure, which resulted in him saying, "Should I come here for a job interview when this place turns into a strip club?"

Yoojung chuckled. "Damn, now you're making me wish it was really happening."

"So you were just joking earlier?" Kyubin sighed mournfully. "I really wanted to taste the Ultimate Bliss special cocktail, but I see now that you got my hopes up for nothing."

Yoojung looked like he was trying very hard to fight back a smile, but in the end, he lost the battle. "How cruel of me. Don't think you can distract me so easily, mister. Make your boss aware that you're not willing to let yourself be used like this, and prioritize your rest and health."

Kyubin felt whatever was left of his resolve crumble. "Yeah, you're right, I can't go on like this. God, it's so stupid that the thought of just telling my boss I don't want to do this is paralyzing. He's such a scrawny man, I could definitely take him in a fight if it came down to it, but it still feels impossible."

"Yeah, I bet it's not gonna be easy to take action, but… if change doesn't come on its own, you gotta create it, you know?"

"Still, it's easier to wait around and pretend it's not my fault everything is the way it is." The words left a bitter taste on his tongue, and he covered it with the final sip of chocolate to soothe his taste buds. He shouldn't have spoken that miserable thought out loud. Next to the radiance Yoojung offered, Kyubin was a shadow of a person, and never had it been more obvious.

Yoojung's hand reached toward his and came to a halt right before they made contact. He quickly hid it in the pocket of his apron, almost like he didn't intend to do this at all, but his body got ahead of him. "It's not your fault. Your parents pushed you into this because they failed to understand your life is yours to live. You're allowed to put the blame on them." He stood up again. "Don't mind me, this floor won't clean itself, and I have to get it done today."

"Oh, of course." While Yoojung dipped the mop in water and wrung out the excess, Kyubin replayed the words in his head. It sounded tempting to absolve himself of any responsibility, but he was never just complicit. Not standing up to his parents was an active choice he made for most of his life. "I appreciate your perspective, but I don't think I'm capable of lying to myself about this. I wasn’t pushed into this, it was my decision, too."

"Or maybe you just made yourself believe it was your decision," Yoojung retorted. "Maybe you felt so trapped that you started to pretend you're not."

"Why would anyone do that?" Kyubin asked gently, wondering if Yoojung’s intense focus on removing a stain from under a table was deliberate, like the sole action of meeting Kyubin's eyes in that moment would reveal a larger meaning he intended to keep hidden.

"I don't know why, I just know it's easy to justify to yourself why you're getting stuck somewhere you don't feel good. It's like, you feel powerless to make your own choices because you understand the consequences, right? The only choice that feels like a safe option is to not do anything, so you convince yourself it's just as much of a choice as anything else. It's not, obviously, but your circumstances force you to think that."

"So the reason I shouldn't blame myself is because my circumstances made me believe I'm partially to blame?"

"Yeah, exactly." The spot on the floor had long become pristine, but Yoojung kept swabbing it relentlessly. "It seems like you're doing things that don't make you happy purely out of habit, and you're finding it really hard to break out because right now, you feel secure. From the things you've been telling me, I think that other people have defined you way more than you've ever defined yourself."

Kyubin swallowed hard. It was impossible to disagree when every word out of Yoojung's mouth sounded like things he knew about himself, but never before had spoken them out loud. He'd also never heard any of these observations from someone else, and there Yoojung was, just a guy wearing a stained apron and holding a mop in his hands, seeing through him even with his eyes directed elsewhere. "How are you this insightful?"

Yoojung looked at him for a brief second before shifting his attention to the floor again. "I just think we're not so different, that's all."

"Really?" Kyubin tried not to sound as skeptical as he felt, but failed.

Yoojung huffed out a laugh. "You don't believe me, I get it. I'm in a very different place now, but... I've also been in situations I didn't see as that bad when the reality was different. Finding out what it looked like from the perspective of others was a good wake up call."

Though Kyubin's curiosity to hear the complete story was killing him, it would have to wait. "I'd like to get to a better place, if I can. What did you do to change your mindset?"

"Oh, boy, a lot of things. I think in some ways, I'm still working on it. The very first thing I tried to do was stop blaming myself for everything, so that's what I think you should do, too. I'm not saying you shouldn't feel responsible for any of your decisions, but admit that what led you to making them wasn't your fault. And once you do that, I think you should redefine yourself on your own terms. Dig deep, find your truest self and stop letting all these expectations limit your freedom."

If Kyubin closed his eyes, he knew he'd see a hint of a version of himself that lived by that advice. That version wasn't prim and proper, anxious to please anyone who stood above him on the corporate ladder, afraid to even say the word gay out loud in case one wrong person overheard. That version didn't wear shirts buttoned up to his neck every single day, kissed men in broad daylight and took life into his own hands. It seemed unattainable, too late, too good to be true, but if Yoojung believed it to be possible, who was Kyubin to deny it?

It wasn't until that moment that he realized how similar this conversation was to one he had with a therapist years ago, just after moving to Seoul. He found that not having his parents breathe down his neck at all times made him feel all sorts of lost, so he went to see a professional to sort through these thoughts. In the end, the session didn't result in anything and he never went again, too caught up in the fear of unintentionally disclosing something he hadn't admitted to himself yet.

Before he could start to question whether it was sensible to rely on Yoojung in the same way as a trained professional, his thoughts were already rushing to find answers, and this time, everything felt much clearer. Abstract images and glimpses of memories took on a more specific shape, and his teenage confusion began to clear up.

His parents had always been strict. As a kid, Kyubin stuck to the rules unwaveringly, never doubting, never asking. He didn't make friends with anyone his parents didn't approve of, didn't read books and watch movies for older audiences, didn't skip school, didn't miss the curfew. For a while, most of his peers seemed to do the same, until adolescence came and an invisible switch flipped. Suddenly, it seemed everyone around him found a sense of freedom Kyubin couldn't grasp.

He watched from the sidelines as his peers wandered aimlessly in search of themselves, but even when that search led them to happiness, he didn't feel like he could step out of line in the same way. Asking questions came with the risk of finding uncomfortable answers, and he knew under his skin that his answers would be especially difficult. He’d sensed something about himself that was inherently unacceptable.

His parents never seemed to notice any of that inner turmoil, and if they did, they chose to ignore it. Their expectations kept growing and became more specific, giving Kyubin a fixed direction in life. The destination? Become the perfect son, one with a good job and a picture-perfect family. In hindsight, it was a bit of a blessing that he tripped over the first step and landed on his face before he could ruin some poor woman’s life.

Yoojung was right, it wasn't his fault that he felt so powerless. His parents didn’t want him as a son, they wanted a perfect son, and even if they didn’t fully realize the disconnect between their vision and reality, they did everything in their power to make him pretend to be one. Once he spent most of his life pretending, it became almost impossible to tell apart what was his choice and what wasn't.

"You look like you just had an epiphany," Yoojung's voice took him out of the turbulent thoughts. He was sitting across from Kyubin again, and the floor around them was almost completely dry.

"Yeah, I- I think you're right. It's not my fault I felt so pressured, it's not my fault I didn't understand myself, and it's not my fault I always felt... unwelcome."

"There you go, step one. You're gonna bloom into yourself soon enough."

"I'm not a flower."

Yoojung reached out and moved a strand of hair from Kyubin's forehead, a feather touch, as if anything firmer would tear off a petal. "Could've fooled me."

A multitude of half-definable emotions stirred up inside Kyubin, things too fresh and delicate to name, but the most intense among them was resentment. What excuse did his parents have for never making him feel accepted when Yoojung proved that it really wasn't that difficult? All he did was care enough to listen, and that was enough to make Kyubin feel more wanted than he ever had in his life.

He wished Yoojung just held his hand before, because then he could squeeze it as he said, "Thank you, I really needed this. I don't know how you do it, it's like you're my therapist or something, and-"

"I'm not your therapist," Yoojung interrupted sharply, and seemed caught off guard by his own tone. "Sorry, you didn't mean anything bad by it."

"I didn’t, but maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it. What I meant is that it's a lot easier to figure stuff out when I'm talking to you, and I'm grateful for your patience in sitting through my existential crisis."

"I think that's just basic human decency. Not that I would talk like this with everyone, obviously not, I'm just aware that expressing what's torturing your mind can be really cathartic and I think everyone deserves an opportunity to do so."

Kyubin let out a short, quick sigh, feeling like his shoulders had just become ten times lighter. "Is this how putting all those complicated feelings into dance makes you feel? It's so relieving just to talk about it, but it must be so much more spectacular to turn it into something beautiful."

Yoojung bit his lip lightly. "Yeah, sometimes dancing is better than talking, but not always. Sometimes, I feel like I'm gonna explode if I don't say something, and- You know what, fuck this, it's not like the guys at the studio don't already know. I don't need to make a huge secret out of it, right?"

"What are you talking-"

"That's exactly what I'm getting to," Yoojung interrupted impatiently and leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "So, there's this dance group called BlueBlueSeoul. They're super cool and famous, they win a ton of competitions, and I've been a fan of them since I first saw their performance years ago. They had these elaborate set pieces that tied into the story, and one of them was on this huge flower and- Hold on, fuck, let me start at the beginning. I told you I'm going to a bunch of auditions, right?"

"Yes, for backup dancers."

"Mainly backup dancers," Yoojung clarified. "They're in demand right now with so many new groups and companies, but I also audition for professional dance groups. These are, like, the dream for me, cause they actually allow you to show off your creativity, but they're not really stable job material most of the time. BlueBlueSeoul are, cause the members managed to make an actual career out of it, and, obviously I don't have an insight into their bank accounts, but it seems to be enough to make a living." He stopped to catch a breath. "Anyway, they haven't had any new members in years, but recently they had some lineup changes, so they've got three spots to fill."

"Are you going with this where I think you're going?" Kyubin leaned forward in anticipation.

"Where do you think I'm going?"

"Did you get in?"

"Oh, I wish, but no. Not yet, anyway, but I've gotten to the final round of auditions. I'm one of the last thirty, can you imagine?"

"That's so amazing, and such a well-deserved chance," Kyubin said earnestly. "Is there any way- I mean, could I come to support you on the big day?"

Yoojung's eyes widened even more. "Uh, yeah. Yes, you can. I mean, the auditions will be closed, but maybe you could pick me up afterwards? It's in two weeks, on Saturday."

"Yeah, of course, I'd just need to get my car repaired first, it's long overdue ever since the engine-"

"No, I didn't mean Pick me up as in Help me get home. What I mean is, maybe we could go for dinner afterwards, or for a walk, or just do something fun."

"As long as we don't rob a bank," Kyubin answered automatically, not quite believing the direction their conversation took. Yoojung was actually suggesting spending an entire afternoon together. With him. Doing things that sounded suspiciously like date activities.

"I don't think that's on the cards anytime soon," Yoojung laughed. "So, is that a yes?"

"Yes, it's a yes. What should I wear?"

Yoojung shrugged and looked at the exposed inches of Kyubin's chest. "Anything you feel comfortable in, but if you're taking requests, maybe something that can be easily unbuttoned?"

Kyubin's mouth went dry and he glanced at the clock to alleviate the nerves. "Yeah, I'll- I'll make note of that." He grabbed the tie and vest before standing up. "I should head back now, so we'll figure out the details later, okay?"

"Wait a sec." Yoojung's grin turned cheeky as he took the tie from Kyubin's hands. Instead of putting it around his neck, he placed it on Kyubin's head, letting it hang down the side of his face. "There, now you look really cool."

"You think so?" Kyubin deadpanned.

"Yes. Go home like this, I dare you."

"Is there a prize if I do?"

Yoojung squinted his eyes mischievously. "You'll find out in two weeks. Ah, shit, I almost forgot to tell you that I'll be getting off work earlier to go to the studio sometimes. Not every day, but I'm gonna have to prepare an original choreography for the audition, and on top of that, there's other stuff me and the guys have already been working on. So, what I'm getting at is that we might not bump into each other during these two weeks."

"Give me your number, then," Kyubin handed him his phone casually, surprising even himself. "You can call me anytime to complain about how your calves hurt, or whatever you dancers complain about."

Yoojung laughed as he typed the number in. "There'll be a lot of that, I'm sure. Does anytime mean the middle of the night as well? Cause that's usually when my calves hurt the most."

"Yeah, chances are I'll be awake anyway."

"See, that worries me. Can you promise me that the next time we see each other, you'll be actively making choices that aren't a hazard to your health?"

"I'll try," Kyubin promised.

He took the tie off his head when he got a weird look at the bus stop, but while on the bus, he put it on again and sneakily took a picture to send to Yoojung. It felt objectively silly, but the heart emoji he got in response made it worth the momentary embarrassment.

The realization that being swallowed up by his job was just a part of his quest for normalcy wasn't earth-shattering, but it did shift his perspective enough to try and implement Yoojung's advice. The next day, he put the new assignments on a back burner and poured all his focus into the older clients. It took only two days for his boss to call him into his office and demand an explanation as to why the files he'd been expecting didn't turn up on his desk.

"I don't know why you think slacking off is an option, Mr. Shin," he said sternly, "I was very clear about the reasons why you should be giving it your all."

"I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been trying very hard, but… I’ve realized this amount of work is a little too much for me, and I’m going to have to hand some clients over to someone else, and I’m taking myself out of the consideration for the promotion. Everyone already knows Mr. Jung is a much better candidate than me, so I doubt it will become an issue."

His boss looked at him with a calculating stare. "You do realize this means there won’t be any favors next time there’s a promotion? You’ll have to pull yourself above everyone else again. I wanted to give you a jump-start, because I trusted you wouldn’t waste the opportunity. Perhaps I was wrong in my judgment of you, and you don’t really want it all that much."

"No, I do want it," Kyubin rushed to lie, but quickly changed his mind before he could dig himself any further. "I did want it, but right now, I don’t have that ambition."

"Very well, then. You had a promising career ahead of you, and I was ready to back you up and mentor you every step of the way, but now, I can't guarantee anything. You're on your own from now on."

His workload decreased after that, but all that meant was that things were back to the status quo - everything remained tiring, and he felt just as ill as ever. The only difference was that he was no longer among the best in the company, and stable ground had been yanked out from beneath his feet. Still, he refused to crawl back to his boss and beg to be given another chance. He could be enough without staying up at night and forgetting meals, he could just be... an average employee who doesn't waste his energy on bootlicking.

He burnt through more cigarettes that week than any other, and Junhyung's persisting absence was only adding on unnecessary stress.

Friday marked two weeks since Kyubin had last seen him, which should probably make him glad that this fling was twice as long as the previous one, but he really wished Junhyung would offer him a few minutes of his time. Once the floodgates to everything Kyubin had been keeping inside opened, there were things he wanted to tell him, his friend, a fundamental part of his first steps towards self-acceptance.

I like men. I'm gay. He wanted to say the words out loud, and he wanted Junhyung to know he could say them.

That day, he decided to leave the workplace earlier than everyone else, no longer able to stand the stuffy inside. It was hard to breathe throughout the whole day, even though he decided to ditch the tight vests and ties until the heatwave was over.

He hoped to take a deep, refreshing breath to calm that unbearable agitation in his chest, but the air outside was even heavier, holding a threat of a storm. A roar of thunder in the distance confirmed his suspicions, but he couldn't blame solely the weather on his state; there was a sense of disquiet under his skin, deep inside, something he had to put to rest in order to not go insane.

One moment, he was watching a young couple buy their kid an ice cream so tall it would inevitably end up on the ground, the next he was calling his father's number.

"Really? Calling only once a month now?" was the greeting, and the unease only grew.

There were so many things he wanted to ask. If I said I wanted to pursue something else back then, would you have supported me? If I decided not to go along the path you wanted, would you still want me as your son? Do you even want me as your son now?

"Hi, Dad," he managed to say in a relatively calm tone. "I'm really sorry, there's been a lot going on."

"When will you pay us a visit? Your mother keeps asking me, as if I'd know the answer to that."

"She can call me anytime and ask me herself, can't she?"

His father scoffed, and Kyubin recalled with vivid detail the line that formed along his forehead when he made that sound. "Show some respect. She's getting impatient for a grandkid, and it's really taking a toll on her health. Her migraines are back, and she fainted in the supermarket last week."

"Did she get hurt, is she okay?"

"She’s fine now, but you should be living close to home and taking care of her, that's the least you could do."

And who exactly was it who instisted I work in Seoul? "I'm very busy these days, I'm sorry I haven’t been visiting."

"So, is there a girl at last?" For the first time in the call, maybe in all their calls, his father sounded like he was smiling on the other end.

Before Kyubin could entertain the notion of lying to make this whole thing easier, he clarified, "I meant I'm busy with work."

"Son, the day has twenty four hours, and I refuse to believe that you suddenly developed such dedication to spend every single one of them on work. It's about time you started a family. Introduce her to us on your mother's birthday, that would be the best present you could give her."

Thunder roared, and Kyubin's insides felt like the clouds above, loaded with electricity anticipating its rapid discharge. If only he could release the tension building in him with equal volume, maybe he'd finally be at ease. "Sure, Dad."

After hanging up, he opened the chat with Yoojung, which was filled to the brim with pictures, most of them sent by Yoojung. The recent ones were from the café, but the vast majority showed him and his friends at the studio. Kyubin usually received them at odd hours of the night, but was greeted by the sight in the morning since he refused to add to his insomnia with the radiation from his phone. He cherished those glimpses of Yoojung’s sweaty forehead and tied up hair, using them as fuel to get through the weeks of not seeing him in the flesh. If only he could steal a minute of his time to stand face to face, maybe he’d get through the remaining week without having a breakdown.

He wasn't sure how to formulate his first written message, but even more so, he wasn't sure he could handle getting a response along the lines of, I haven't got time for you right now, I'm working hard to achieve my dream. Why do you always come over just because you're feeling lonely? It wasn't very plausible he'd phrase it like that, but imagining it in his voice still hurt.

Just as he was about to call it quits, his phone buzzed with a new message - a photo of a glass, and in it, Yoojung’s distorted reflection. The background indicated he was still in the café, and Kyubin picked up the pace.

The signboard informing where one could find ultimate bliss was already in his view when Yoojung exited. Seeing him was enough to make Kyubin feel a little lighter on his feet, and he started to run. "Hi!" he called out, interrupting Yoojung’s whistling as he pocketed the key.

"There he is," a wide smile split Yoojung’s face. "Want a hot chocolate?"

"Oh, no, thank you, I just- I just wanted to see you."

Honesty paid well, as it turned out. Yoojung crossed the remaining distance between them and casually pushed Kyubin’s sweaty hair off his forehead. "You see me now, what will you do with me?"

Kyubin looked down at his feet, feeling strangely abashed. "Do you have a free minute before you have to get to the studio?"

"Yeah, I'd much rather catch up with you." His eyes traveled up and down Kyubin's body slowly, as if despite the sweaty armpits, the man in front of him made an alluring sight. He took half a step closer, and Kyubin held his breath as Yoojung undid a button off the top of his shirt. "Easier to breathe like this, isn’t it?"

No, definitely not. "Yeah, thank you."

"You’re so very welcome," he said in a low tone and twisted the next button between his fingers, neither undoing it nor stepping away.

His gaze felt as palpable as if it were his fingertips, slowly exploring every inch of Kyubin’s neck, his face, his hair, but the proximity made it impossible to meet that gaze. Kyubin swallowed and gathered enough courage to raise his eyes to Yoojung’s face, which allowed him to notice he seemed a little paler than usual, and his cheeks were more hollow. A more careful look revealed dark circles so familiar that it was almost like staring into the mirror. "You look like you haven't slept the entire week," he blurted out before he could think up a better way to phrase his concern.

"I have, a little. Not too much."

"Making the choreography keeps you up?" Kyubin guessed.

"Yeah, my head is just brimming and bursting with ideas, and- like that thing you said, you can't rest until everything is decent? This is kind of like that, but even more so, cause I’m going after perfection. I'm gonna blow the judges’ minds with this, and it’s gonna be the most haunting and heart wrenchingly beautiful thing they've ever seen."

Kyubin raised his eyebrows. "That sounds like something nobody should miss out on."

"Oh, I’m gonna show it to you, don’t you worry." His dilated pupils focused on Kyubin’s lips, and Kyubin felt a jolt of something that was panicked and excited in equal measure. Before he could settle on one side or the other, Yoojung stepped away. "So, what now? Where we headed?"

"Oh. Um," Kyubin said eloquently, realizing he didn't think this far ahead. "I could go for some ice cream. There's a really nice café I passed on my way here, if you're okay with supporting your competition." The perfect spot for a first date, the reviews claimed. Small tables, private atmosphere. I recommend bringing your crush along.

Yoojung clicked his fingers at the same time as thunder roared again. "The best ice cream on the whole planet is over there." Kyubin’s eyes followed to where his finger pointed - a cart situated beside a phone booth on the other side of the street.

"But it might rain soon, so shouldn’t we go somewhere with a roof?"

"Nope, you have to taste it," Yoojung announced, and gave no further warning before running out onto the street and dragging Kyubin along by his hand. Before Kyubin fully realized what was happening, his feet were already at the line separating the two lanes, and his whole body froze at the deafening claxon and rapidly approaching lights in his peripheral vision. Yoojung’s forceful yank was the only thing that activated his reflexes in time for his toes to touch the sidewalk as the car wooshed right past them, sending his heart to his throat.

His knees gave out and he nearly collapsed to the ground, but the hold Yoojung had on his hand kept him upright. All he did was bend over to take a few deep breaths and calm the hammering in his chest.

"You good?" Yoojung clapped him on the back, sounding completely casual.

"What the fuck?" Kyubin straightened and looked at Yoojung accusingly. "Why would you just- why would you just run onto the street like that?!"

Yoojung didn’t look shaken at all, merely impressed. "You’ve never said fuck before."

Kyubin laughed a little hysterically. "Is that really the most pressing matter right now? There’s a crosswalk a few steps away, you can see the red light from-"

"Relax, I saw it coming, I wouldn’t have let you get hurt. Come on," he tugged at their joined hands and guided Kyubin to the display of flavors.

The hold was tight and sweaty, and even though it was completely unlike what Kyubin had imagined his touch to be, it was still Yoojung’s hand, holding his. He wished he could bring himself to enjoy it, but his heart continued pounding from shock, not excitement, and his mind kept replaying the image of the headlights getting closer, the claxon reverberating in his ears over and over and-

"This is the hardest part," Yoojung brought him back to the present moment, "the choice. I've been trying to figure out the best combination all summer, but turns out that everything goes with everything."

Ice cream. Right, they were buying ice cream, which Kyubin had suggested mere seconds ago. Granted, his vision consisted of a small table in a cozy corner where their hands would graze and their legs press against each other, accidentally at first, then with intention, but maybe it was better that Yoojung brought him here. This was a place he liked, and Kyubin would order himself a nice frozen treat, cool down, and end the evening thinking only about how soft and warm Yoojung’s skin felt.

Yoojung bowed to the seller. "Hi again. It’s gonna be these four over here, one scoop of each."

"Hold on, won’t it melt really fast?" Kyubin asked. "It’s very hot tonight, I almost stepped into a puddle of ice cream on my way over here."

Yoojung elbowed him playfully. "How can you be so sure it was ice cream?"

Kyubin ignored the side glance from the seller. "It was a very different color from anything you might be suggesting. I mean, I’m not going to stop you, I just don’t think it should go to waste."

"You’ve no idea how many parents I’ve heard say this exact same thing to their kids right in this spot. I'm a big boy, I can handle myself." He took the waffle from the seller. "Thank you. What’s your pick gonna be?"

"Uh, one scoop of vanilla, I think."

"That small, huh? You don’t feel the need to overcompensate for the size, good to know." With a wink, he added, "Neither do I, by the way."

Had his voice been discreetly quiet, maybe Kyubin would’ve laughed, or blushed, or done literally anything but shrink in on himself when the seller gave them both an outraged stare. Instead of pushing his own shame onto Yoojung by asking him to keep it down, he repeated, "One scoop of vanilla, please. How much?"

"That will be 7,500 won."

Before Kyubin could reach for his wallet, Yoojung’s was already in his hand. "You’ve been paying me for the hot chocolate, I'm paying this time." He handed the seller a 50,000 won note. "Keep the change."

The seller raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Is this a joke?"

"You can't put a price on the taste of heaven," Yoojung explained simply. "Can you imagine how rich you and I would be if everyone tipped what we’re worth? That’s the world I’m trying to make."

The seller still seemed consternated, but understandably didn't argue further. "Thank you, that’s really generous."

A ringtone resounded from Yoojung’s pocket, but all he did was take a glance at the screen before putting it away. It rang again once Kyubin and him started a stroll down the street, and when all Yoojung did was lick his ice cream and pretend not to hear, Kyubin asked, "Can I ask why you aren’t answering?"

"Cause I know what they’re gonna say. Come to the studio, we need your help, all that bullshit. I haven’t gone for the past two days, cause all they do is interrupt me when I’m trying to work on my thing."

"Where have you been practicing, then? In the café?"

"In my head, mostly. My vision is really strong, so I don’t need that much practice." He paused to lick off the cream that dripped down on his hand, but before Kyubin could bring up the question whether that strategy was responsible, he continued, "Right now I’m just cutting down on ideas, which is really fucking hard, cause there’re so many good ones. I wish they would just let me do the full forty minute version, but the limit is five minutes, so it’s their loss they won’t get to experience it in full glory. I’ll show you the full version, though. Wanna see it now?"

Even looking as exhausted as he did, he seemed to vibrate with unreleased energy, and Kyubin could feel it revitalize him despite their skin not touching anymore. "I would love to see it," he admitted, "but I think I’d like to experience the finished version, if that’s okay. Can we save it until next week?"

"Suit yourself. Maybe by then I’ll actually decide on the music."

"You haven’t got the music yet? I thought that’s where you usually start from."

"Yeah, usually, but this isn’t usual. I spent one whole night looking for the perfect piece of music, and then I contacted a friend who’s a composer, but they said they can’t do anything like what I described. I bargained, but they said it’s not money that’s the issue, it’s my idea, which, what the fuck? The idea isn’t the problem, the idea is genius."

"Right, of course," Kyubin said, frowning lightly. "And what’s the idea?"

Yoojung stopped, the look on his face deeply focused. "How do I describe it? It’s my life, basically, but it’s so much more than just that. It’s every personal revelation and everything that influenced me, so I’m also quoting some moves from Swan Lake, and some of my own past choreographies."

"Why don’t you use music from Swan Lake, then?"

"Nah, I’d rather do it in silence than go for something so obvious. Oh my god," he stopped and looked at Kyubin like he just provided him with the perfect solution. "Silence, I’m gonna do it in silence, and the sound of my shoes, and my body moving through the air and everything like that will be the music. Oh, it’s gonna be so good, especially in this moment when-" he moved his arm energetically to demonstrate, which resulted in a splash of melted cream landing on his shirt. "Ah, fuck."

Kyubin took out a tissue. "See, I told you this would happen, you should’ve taken a smaller amount."

Yoojung pushed his hand away. "You’re talking like a parent again and it’s really fucking weird. There-" before Kyubin could catch on to his intention, his shirt was decorated with a cold stain- "now we're even."

Kyubin quickly wiped it off. "I’m sorry for sounding weird, but I'd rather you didn't do that to my work shirt."

Yoojung rolled his eyes. "Grow up, there’s enough soap in the world to take care of it." He threw the rest of the waffle in the trash and walked up to the railing by the side of the street.

Kyubin also threw his waffle out and stood by the trash can, hesitant as to whether he should join. He couldn’t gauge Yoojung’s mood by watching his back, but he also didn’t want to accidentally push any more of his buttons and ruin this fragile thing between them any further.

Not for the first time that evening, he found himself at a loss as to what exactly was happening. The picture Yoojung painted was starting to feel increasingly disjointed, and he felt the pieces needed to create a cohesive image slipping rapidly through his fingers. Maybe this was how Yoojung’s passion for art affected him and this wasn’t abnormal at all, but Kyubin couldn't get rid of the suspicion that something was off. He was a little too reckless, too loud, as if he overdosed on caffeine and couldn't get himself to slow down.

He’s not even worried about me, he realized. Yoojung hadn’t asked about his well-being and didn’t even seem to care that the almost-accident upset him. That stung more than anything else that happened that day.

He joined Yoojung by the railing just as the phone in Yoojung’s pocket started ringing again, and the decision to finally pick up kept Kyubin from saying anything he'd regret.

"What? No, I've got plans for tonight. Bye." The words Don't hang up! from the other side were shouted loudly enough to reach Kyubin's ears. Yoojung looked ready to defy the request, but then he looked at Kyubin and squinted his eyes. "No. Why?" He handed Kyubin the phone. "Talk to him."

Hesitantly, Kyubin pressed the phone to his ear. "Uh, hello, this is Shin Kyubin. I'm not sure what's-"

"I don't need to know anything, just please, please make sure Yoojung gets to the studio, okay? He should’ve been here an hour ago, and we need him to figure out the formation. This needs to be done tonight, so either he comes right now or he’s out of the performance."

"Right, of course." The other person hung up, and Yoojung all but snatched his phone out of Kyubin's hand. "I was tasked with getting you to the studio. It sounded urgent, is this also something for the audition?"

"No, they’re trying to get some theater’s permission to use the stage to put on a showcase. Even if they get it, that’s weeks away, and I’ll be in BlueBlueSeoul by then, so I don’t care. I wanna walk around with you all night."

Kyubin felt the corners of his lips go up. "That does sound like fun, but I don't think I have the energy to walk all night, sorry."

"I could carry you when you get tired. How do you like being manhandled, piggyback or bridal style?"

"I wouldn’t say I like either of these," Kyubin said before Yoojung decided to lift him, which undoubtedly came with a risk of an injury. "You should go to the studio now, either to help your friends or practice for the audition. Listen, I- I’m sorry if I sound like a parent again, but this seemed to be a very important opportunity to you last time we talked about it, and I don’t think you should leave everything until the last minute."

"Isn't that your friend over there?" Yoojung asked suddenly and indicated with his chin to the opposite side of the street. "The one who- Junhyung, right? I swear that's his hair."

Kyubin followed his line of sight. "It could be him." He looked between Yoojung and the man walking away. "Okay, look, I'm going to catch up with him, but… You made me promise to make better choices, and I’ve been trying, so can you promise me you’ll practice? Not just in your head, I mean, but in reality."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it, you have nothing to worry about. Go, get your friend, he’s getting away."

Kyubin made sure to look both sides this time before crossing the street in an illegal place. "Junhyung!" he yelled after the man who didn't seem to hear, his steps big enough that Kyubin had to run to catch up to him. Finally, the man turned around, and Kyubin halted. "Oh. Sorry, I mistook you for a friend."

"That's no problem. Now that we're talking, could you show me how to get to the National Museum? It's my first time visiting Seoul and I've been walking in circles for the past hour, so I'd be very grateful."

Kyubin suppressed a tired sigh. "Sure, of course."

After directing the tourist to his destination and refreshing the chat with Junhyung to no effect, he stood on the street alone among passing strangers, disoriented, overheated, with half-formed questions rattling around in his brain. He wished the rain would sense his inner turmoil and fall for the dramatic effect, but the thunder seemed to get further and further away, and the streets remained dry.

He looked out over the railing at the view of the city from high up, and then at the spotless sky above. Even the moon hid its face behind the clouds that night, as if to mock Kyubin’s persisting failure to uncover who Yoojung was beneath the pretty face. Maybe Kyubin would never fully know him, just like he’d never see the moon’s hidden side in the sky. Maybe he was thinking about this way too deeply. Yeah, probably the latter.

His father would find him ridiculous if he knew his son was pointlessly staring at the horizon, an entirely unproductive way to fill the emptiness he carried inside. Oddly enough, this thought motivated Kyubin to keep staring until he came up with a solution.

The company building had already closed, so he headed to a grassy hill with a vast view of the city that he found while driving around on a sleepless night. It turned out to be an effective place for his thoughts to quiet down. The area was less crowded, so the risk of someone coming across him was small, and that was always a reassuring perspective in a city brimming with people.

He sat down on the ground, lit up a cigarette and took out his phone to scroll through the chat with Yoojung, stopping on the last mirror selca he received from the studio. It was sent to him at 3AM, and under the artificial lights, Yoojung’s tired state was even more emphasized. Kyubin didn’t know how he failed to notice it before, because Yoojung’s reflection looked so much like his own. Unlike him, though, only Yoojung’s appearance betrayed his exhaustion, while his behavior was anything but.

Paradox. The only word he could find to accurately describe Yoojung was paradox. And yet, it wasn’t accurate at all, because he wasn’t a paradox - he was a person, with all the complexities and inconsistencies that came with it. At times, a bright light, at times, a shadow, but above all that, the person standing in the middle, receiving the light and shaping the shadow behind his back into a disfigured silhouette.

That evening was a much needed wake-up call. It’d been easy to believe Yoojung held the answers to all of Kyubin’s problems, but he didn’t, he couldn’t have. Considering that they weren’t even dating, Kyubin sure as hell placed a lot of importance on this thing between them working out. If Yoojung were to suddenly disappear from his life, or simply move on to someone better, Kyubin would be left with no foundations. And even if it did work out and they did eventually date, he couldn’t expect Yoojung to take every piece of him that felt out of place and magically put him back together.

I'm not your therapist, he said, and he was right. He may have been the one to unlock Kyubin, but it was never his role to fix him. He could fix his hair, smile at him, give him a push, show him he had the potential to become someone better, but that was it. Maybe it was enough.

That was the whole reason he kept coming back, the reason Yoojung’s presence was so uplifting – Yoojung saw potential in him in a way nobody else had before. He believed that Kyubin had the means to create his own happiness, and it must’ve been obvious to him that Kyubin wasn't doing enough to become his best self.

As long as Kyubin remained like this, walking around barely awake, making easy and bad choices for his health, expecting to hear solutions to his problems, he wouldn't be someone worth keeping around in Yoojung's eyes. He wouldn't be someone worth dating. If he wanted to keep Yoojung in his life, he'd need to work towards being someone worthy of staying in his presence.

There was no clear pathway to this free and satisfied version of himself he had envisioned, no tangible destination other than a glimpse of a wide smile and a lighter chest. If there was one thing that was clear about this possible future Kyubin, it was that this Kyubin was his own person, making his own decisions and facing the cause of his distress head on.

He threw the cigarette packet in the trash and made an appointment to discuss his sleeping problems. An infinitesimally small second step. Nonetheless, a step made on his own.

The next day, as he was heading towards the office kitchen corner, his phone pinged with a new text from Yoojung, and he almost dropped his phone in relief. He’d been on edge ever since he checked their chat in the morning, and upon not seeing anything new, was hit with the memory of the car rushing straight at them. Since then, countless scenarios had fought their way into his imagination, but now, he could put them all to rest.

The text wasn’t a picture this time, but contained actual words.

11:43AM – Our two lovebird friends remembered the world is bigger than the two of them

11:44AM – What do you mean?

11:44AM – Sungho finally showed up to practice

11:45AM – Actually, the guy I saw yesterday wasn't Junhyung, so only one lovebird.

11:45AM – Shit I already told Sungho you saw him
11:45AM – His reaction was kinda off so I guess I should clarify brb
11:47AM – Okay done

11:47AM - Did you get to the studio yesterday?

11:47AM – Uhhhh
11:48AM – No
11:48 AM – But I'm here today aren't I
11:49AM – [Yoojung sent a picture]
11:49AM – Have a good day at work <3

11:49AM – Good luck with making your masterpiece!

The picture was another mirror selca, with half of Yoojung's face covered by a mask and his hair pulled up in a ponytail. Kyubin stared at it for the whole duration of the coffee express filling up his cup, and, of course, Yongsoo entered at the perfect moment to catch him with a wide smile on his face.

"Wow, that's a sight you don't get to see every day."

"Mind your own business," Kyubin turned the phone off.

"I'm just surprised your face works that way." He set the water to boil and turned to him with a more serious look on his face. "By the way, I clarified to Boss that you were the one helping me. I didn't say it was a recurring thing, cause I'm not going to stick my neck out that far, but I thought I should at least take responsibility this once."

"Thank you," Kyubin said sincerely.

"And, also, that was just insanely cool of you, how you didn't even hesitate to save my ass. I appreciate that. Whew, okay, serious moment over," he chuckled as he took out three cups from the cupboard.

"Want me to help you carry these back?" Kyubin offered.

"No, thanks, I'll manage. They're for Wookjin and Jisung," he added, although Kyubin wasn't planning on asking about it.

He did come across Jisung occasionally, but Wookjin seemed to avoid him like a wildfire. That didn't stop bottles of juice from appearing next to Kyubin's computer, but the culprit was no longer around to find out Kyubin's reaction, or even give him a chance to apologize for his outburst.

Wookjin's last words directed at him seemed harsh at first, but the longer they resided in Kyubin's thoughts, the less they felt like an insult, and more like an actual piece of advice.

He turned to Yongsoo before the man could leave. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," Yongsoo looked at him like he was expecting a fascinating lecture.

"Do I seem like I think I'm better than everyone else?"

Yongsoo frowned. "No, why?"

"How do I seem, then?"

"Okay, to me, you seem like someone who doesn't mind me making the same mistakes over and over, so you're a hell of a lot more patient than any other senior in the company I tried asking for help. But others think you're super intimidating, I overheard some-" he cut himself off and made a face like he knew he said too much already.

"Lay it on me, I can take it."

"It's nothing that bad, but... People joke that you're a robot, that sort of thing."

"Oh." So all the traits held up as the pinnacle of an employee's performance, all the things he tried so hard to uphold to be someone worthy of respect, just made him seem less human in their eyes. A robot. Not the worst insult, all things considered, but it still felt like a blow.

"I'll tell them to stop," Yongsoo assured eagerly.

"No, that's- I get where they're coming from, I'm not exactly approachable."

"You let me approach you."

"But you had to try really hard."

"Not really, you started helping me the first time I asked you. You just took a while to drop the super serious face, but I didn't mind that, I thought you were cool even before."

This time, Kyubin wasn't able to stop himself from ruffling Yongsoo's hair. "Drink your juice to the last drop, maybe you'll grow an inch or two."

Yongsoo rolled his eyes, "Touché."

He fell onto his bed the second he came home, and was ready to fall asleep when his phone buzzed in his pocket, persisting until he took it out and answered the call.

"Drinks," was the only word Junhyung said.

"Hello to you, too," Kyubin mumbled, relieved that Junhyung was alive, annoyed that he had to pick that moment to reveal it. "I can't drink, I'm dead."

"Fine, I'm coming to you, then."

The bell startled Kyubin out of a nap. He slapped his cheeks a few times before buzzing Junhyung in, and prepared two glasses while waiting for him to come up.

Junhyung slammed the door after himself and plopped down onto Kyubin's couch only to get up immediately and pace around the room. He looked mad, which was a first. Kyubin had never seen him react to any breakup like that before.

Junhyung stopped his pacing and a long silence fell. His shoulders started to shake, but no sound came, as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry even as tears fell down his face. In the end, he settled on bitter laughter as he wiped his cheeks and sat down next to Kyubin, downing half the glass and subsequently choking.

"He doesn't trust me," he said finally, "and it's all because of that barista of yours. Yoojung told him he saw the two of us somewhere while I was literally just sleeping, and Sungho just couldn't get it through his head that my version was the truth."

"Oh, shit, I know what this is about. I saw someone that looked like you near the café yesterday and I ran after him, but it was just some tourist. Can I- should I tell him, would that help?"

"No, forget it, I'm annoyed with him right now. Seriously, what gives him the right to get mad at me for hanging out with my friend, and then not even fucking believe me when I say it didn't happen?"

Kyubin touched Junhyung's shoulder reassuringly. "Forget about him, he sucks."

"No, the worst thing is, he doesn't suck, like, at all." He sighed deeply and his brows relaxed from their frown. "Shit, what did I do? I told him we're over, but I’m starting to think it was a total overreaction. See, this is why I always end it before it gets messy, cause if I don’t, the mess just gets irreversible. I guess I hoped this time would be different, cause it was so good when we were together, but now I fucked it up, and… and yet there’s a part of me that wants to go back, hug him and tell him I didn't mean it."

"So are you going to talk this through with him, or will you try to move on?"

"I don't know," Junhyung's voice wavered, "I probably don't deserve a second chance after getting so worked up over this small thing, right?"

He finished the drink in one big gulp. Kyubin reached to refill the glass, but Junhyung beat him to it, drank all he poured inside and settled his head on Kyubin’s shoulder. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole. I said I'd be a friend, but I didn't even respond to your texts, and now I've come to unload all my emotional bullshit on you."

"It's fine, I've been figuring it out myself. It’s been working out for me, for the most part."

"Sparks flying and all that?"

"Yeah, maybe. He asked me to pick him up from an audition, and I think we're going on a date afterwards."

"Oh, that dance group thing? What was it, Blue Seoul or something? Sungho's going to that too. Or maybe he won't after all this, what do I know anymore." He slouched down, the alcohol starting to take its effect. "Wait, what do you mean you think it's a date? Ask for some clarity, man, what the fuck."

"It's fine, I wouldn't even know how to ask. We're taking it slow, so maybe we don't have to put labels on anything yet."

"I'm kinda jealous of your patience, I would not be able to keep it in my pants that long, he's super pretty. Don't tell Sungho I said that," he laughed humorlessly. "Go on, talk about Yoojung, distract me."

"I'm not sure what you want me to say. He's... well, he's beautiful, inside and out. His passion for dancing is really beautiful, too. I want to understand him better, and I want to know how his mind works, and everything else about him. I want to talk to him more and spend a lot of time with him, because I'm having fun when we’re together. I'm just- I'm gay." No fanfares, no earthquake, nothing. Just a few words and a short sigh of relief.

"Would be awkward for him if you weren't."

Kyubin laughed. "I know, right? Would be even more awkward for me if I wanted to kiss him in a straight way."

Junhyung patted him on the knee. "I wish you many extremely homosexual kisses with him and other homosexual activities."

"It's way more than just physical," he confessed quietly. "I've never felt anything like it."

"So it's your first time having strong feelings for someone?"

A difficult question, considering all those feelings were usually washed down with alcohol and promptly forgotten. "Probably not, but I never let myself act on them to this extent."

"So he's really something special, then."

"Yeah, he is, he really is. It feels so much easier to face difficult things when I'm with him. I'm comfortable around him even when I'm tense, which makes no sense, and I want us to keep it up and get to know each other even better, but..."

"Oh, there's always a but. Go on, spit it out, it can't be that bad. Does his breath smell bad?"

It was Kyubin's turn to take a few sips. "I just feel so transparent in front of him, but he's not transparent to me at all. We saw each other yesterday, and there were so many things about him that were… I don’t know, unsettling? We’ve never spent time together outside the café before, but I doubt he walks into traffic carelessly all the time if he’s still in a good enough condition to dream of a dance career. And, that’s the other thing, he acted like he didn’t need to prepare for the audition, that he could just make up the dance in his head and it would all be fine. I know nothing about his artistic process, but it didn’t seem normal."

"Maybe he was manic," Junhyung said with a shrug.

"What does that mean?"

"Okay, I don’t remember much, but I got really into psychology one time and read a bunch of papers, and the things you said kind of sound like a manic episode. Reckless, overly confident, that sort of stuff. It could be bipolar, but you’d have to do your own research. Or just ask him, about this and about the date. Better to clear the air before it gets too complicated." He snorted. "Wow, look at me being a love guru when I can't even keep the best relationship I've ever had."

"You don't have to keep your traditions up this time," Kyubin pointed out. "If you think he's worth fighting for, then fight for him."

Junhyung’s eyelids started to droop like they usually did when he drank something strong a little too fast. "Time heals, right? I'll forget all about him in a few days. It's not like he's that special. It's not like he's..."

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished as Junhyung's eyes closed and his breathing deepened. Kyubin carefully guided his head to the armrest and covered him with a blanket.

He was gone when Kyubin woke up, but the blanket left in a chaotic disarray made the flat feel more lively even with no other soul there.

Notes:

I've never written hypomanic and manic episodes before, which was what took me the most time to figure out while writing this chapter, but I hope I did a decent job at conveying the state.

Chapter 4: flickering candlelight

Notes:

Author TMI: At first I thought I’d finish writing this fic in June. Then I thought I’d be posting a new chapter every two weeks. Ha. Ha. Ha.

In all seriousness, I tend to overcomplicate a lot of my ideas as I’m developing them, and since I’m a beginner writer, it takes me some time to bring out an actually functional plot point or character beat out of that initial chaos. If I had kept the chapters as they were and posted them in June, I don’t think the story would’ve been as engaging. I hope for both my own sake and everyone else’s who enjoys my writing that I’ll learn how to not overthink every single sentence. For now though, I’m just trying my best to make this lil fic live up to how strongly I feel about these characters, even if they are only about 80% my original creations.

I’m genuinely so thankful to everyone who expresses their interest and keeps checking in for the next chapter. I love and appreciate you so so much, you guys keep me motivated to get this done and share new chapters with you. I hope you enjoy this one as well!

If Kyubin had ever thought himself immune to the placebo effect, that delusion was crushed when he woke up from his first prescription pill-induced sleep. The alarm rang too soon and too suddenly for his liking, but he felt more rested than he had in months, and he easily settled into a healthy morning routine. Even after work, he found enough energy to visit the gym and run on a treadmill for a few minutes. The intensity of the medication’s effect subsided a little with the second and third take, but day by day, he was starting to feel like a living human again.

The doctor was firm about two things - to lessen the caffeine intake and quit smoking. Kyubin was warned of the difficulties that would come with introducing these changes into his daily life, and was advised to implement them slowly to make the effects both easier and more permanent, but he had no time to waste. He had one week to pull himself together enough for the progress to be apparent. Not just to himself, but to Yoojung as well.

He realized that using Yoojung as his motivation on the journey to self-improvement wasn’t very smart, but he had to start somewhere, and sticking to the new regimen was much easier with a substantial goal on the horizon. The immediate issue was to prove to Yoojung that he had more to offer and that he could make an effort for someone else. Once that was done, he would work to nurture a healthy distance and become a Kyubin who could stay anchored regardless of what turbulent circumstances he found himself in.

Planning the activities for the date wasn't a problem. He got some practice in that back when he was still holding onto the hope that maybe he hadn't met the right woman yet, and that if he romanced them with expensive things, he'd get to feel complete once they stand at the altar. This was the perfect opportunity to implement the advice Yoojung gave him and redefine himself by defying the expectations. The pressure of finding a wife was gone, and he could finally go on a date that felt right.

The area Yoojung sent him a screenshot of was more suburban than Kyubin was used to organizing dates in, but he managed to find an elegant, highly rated restaurant and make a reservation for a table for two. Then, he familiarized himself with the nearby attractions - movie theaters and their repertoires, exhibits, antique shops where he could observe on which objects Yoojung’s eyes lingered and surprise him at the right moment.

While most of his dates ended there, that wasn’t what he hoped for this time. The signals Yoojung had been sending weren’t hard to decipher, but the phrase ulterior motive still rang in the back of Kyubin’s mind. What if Yoojung didn’t even mean for their little outing to be a date, not an official one? And even if he did, was that the same as giving Kyubin the go-ahead to take their relationship a little further?

As long as he didn’t say anything that was a green light so obvious even someone colorblind couldn’t doubt it, Kyubin vowed to keep his hands to himself. Unfortunately, keeping his hands to himself while the rest of his body was still adjusting to having a healthy amount of energy could have led to only one thing.

On the day preceding their meeting, he attempted to get back into the habit of napping for half an hour after a workout, but woke up well after midnight, his work clothes all creased up from tossing and turning. The bed was too soft and warm to leave, so he decided to channel his laziness into going through all the pictures of Yoojung saved in his camera roll. It didn’t make him any more sleepy, so he went to watch all the uploaded practice videos, which led to rewatching the video, and the rest of his resolve to resist crumbled in an instant.

His hand traveled up to his neck, pressing gently to imitate what it would feel like if Yoojung were to tighten the knot of his tie and pull it just a little too strongly. It felt nice to imagine this was something Yoojung would like to do to him, along with all the other things he displayed a desire for in the choreography. The fantasy of letting himself be used for Yoojung’s pleasure tickled his shame in a different way than he was used to. This was a kind of shame that pushed his hand downwards and beneath the waistband.

The first seconds were tense, his mind still caught up in the right and wrong of it all, reminding him that he was breaching on something forbidden and, perhaps, making Yoojung disappointed. This is all a harmless fantasy, he reminded himself. What would’ve made Yoojung far more disappointed was the realistic version of this.

In his fantasy, his knees didn’t hurt after a mere minute. In his fantasy, it didn’t matter whether he was sober or drunk, because he was composed and focused. His teeth remained covered, he didn’t overzealously try to attempt things his throat wasn’t ready for, he remembered what role his tongue and his hands were supposed to play. In his fantasy, Yoojung’s fingers gripped his hair to keep him in place, and the sounds he let out were pure pleasure, no pain, no frustration, no disappointment.

He came as fast as he expected he would after holding back for so long. Some relief started to set in, but it wasn't enough. His own hand was too familiar, too predictable.

He was lying in bed with his hair damp after a shower, hands weaved together on his stomach as he debated whether going again would be sensible, when the screen of his phone lit up. Yoojung's name appeared in big, white letters, accompanied by a ringtone. Kyubin stared at it, blinking for a few drowsy seconds, and then jolted upright. He took a deep breath and answered the call. "Hi."

"Hey," a tired voice came from the other end. "I just finished practicing nonstop for five hours and I'm dying, what are the last words you want me to hear?"

Kyubin gripped his pillow to calm the nerves. This was fine, this was normal, this was just Yoojung, his voice low and husky and right next to Kyubin's ear. "That you're going to live."

"You know what, I think you might be right. I didn't wake you up, did I? You sound a bit strained."

"No, uh, I'm still finishing up some tasks for work."

"It's 2AM, you realize that?"

"You've also just gotten off work," Kyubin pointed out.

"Correction, I got off my dream. Wait, that sounds weird," he chuckled. "I was practicing, as I promised I would."

"Wait, did you practice nonstop for five hours today just because of what I said?" Kyubin asked with a mix of shock and concern.

"The five hours were just now, but I’ve been in the studio since early morning, I left only for my evening shift. You were right, you know, I did need way more practice, so I’m trying to make up for lost time now. Thank you for motivating me to do it."

His voice sounded lower over the phone, rougher even though he was speaking softly, and the distortion of the sound made Kyubin wish the distance between them was gone. He was probably laying in bed and wearing pajamas, with his hair wet from the shower, his skin glistening...

Kyubin punched the pillow as if it was its fault that his mind kept going in that direction.

"What was that sound? Did you fall off the bed?"

That at least made Kyubin laugh, which finally helped him feel in control of his own vocal cords. "No, I'm not that clumsy. Although, funny you say that, I did have a tendency to fall off the bed as a kid."

"That's adorable. If you met that little Kyubin who fell off the bed, what would he think of you?"

"Where did that come from?"

"I want a bedtime story, entertain me."

Kyubin imagined his younger self standing in front of him, chubby-cheeked and innocent. "He'd definitely laugh at my hairstyle, but once I’d show him how ripped I got he’d stop laughing. And then... then he'd probably ask why I'm not living in a huge house with a wife, three kids, a fancy car in the garage and a pool in the backyard, which back then seemed like the pinnacle of happiness for adults. I guess kids have a pretty limited imagination." He scoffed lightly at himself. "Sorry, I don't know why I thought this would be an entertaining answer."

"I’m fine with any answer that makes you less of a stranger, and that worked like a charm."

Kyubin looked over at the empty spot to his left, trying to remember what shape the covers took when there was a person laying underneath them. "What about younger Yoojung?" he threw the question back and imagined Yoojung’s cheek squished against the pillow, a mere few inches from his face. "If he met you now, what would he think?"

"He'd see me as something to look forward to." His voice sounded a bit weaker near the end, and he cleared his throat. "On second thought, let's talk about something different. What's your favorite movie?"

"You’ve done this a few times already," Kyubin pointed out hesitantly, finding it much easier without Yoojung’s endlessly expressive eyes on him. "While talking about stuff from my past, you’d say something that suggested a larger story, but you never elaborated or gave any details. Which you’re not obligated to do, of course, I’m just wondering, why?"

A beat of silence on the other end, then, "My story isn’t very fun to listen to."

That was enough for Kyubin to confirm the conclusion he came to the previous week. "I doubt my story is fun to listen to either, so I’d like to apologize. I’m sorry, I’ve been getting too personal and making things weird between us. I promise not to bring up any of my issues again."

"No," the creak of the mattress on the other end indicated Yoojung sat up abruptly, "no, you haven’t made things weird, I’m the one who- It’s not that I want to keep secrets, I’m just not- Ah, fuck, I shouldn’t look for excuses. You spill your guts out to me, and I don’t offer enough in return."

"What?" Kyubin also sat up, sensing that this was the proper way to have this conversation. "How can you think you don’t offer enough?"

"I offer bits of advice, anecdotes, not my story." His voice was so quiet that Kyubin had to plug his other ear to focus better. "It’s only fair that you want to know more."

"I only want to know what you feel comfortable telling me," Kyubin said firmly, regretful that he unintentionally brought distress to Yoojung on a night he should be resting soundly.

"If that’s the case, I’ll never tell you anything," Yoojung laughed nervously. "I should at least explain why I was so all over the place last Friday. That’s actually the reason I called you." He took a deep breath, and his exhale was so shaky that Kyubin had to intervene.

"A lot of things were going on in your life and the stress got to you, I get it."

"Yeah, but that’s not all. I'm really sorry for smearing ice cream on your shirt, I don't know what I was thinking. I didn’t feel very well that day, I wasn’t really myself."

"The stain washed off without any issues," Kyubin replied calmly. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, I do. My memory is a bit fuzzy, though. Did I do anything else that seemed weird?"

The sound of a klaxon still occasionally made Kyubin flinch, but he wasn’t sure how to bring that up without raising the larger topic of Yoojung’s safety during a manic episode. Satisfying his curiosity as to whether Junhyung’s suggestion was true wasn’t worth Yoojung’s discomfort, so he decided to limit his response to, "I guess paying for the ice cream with a 50,000 won bill was a bit odd."

"Fuck, so that's where it went." Yoojung sighed in frustration. "I’m usually more responsible than this, I promise."

"I know," Kyubin assured, and to put Yoojung at ease, he felt compelled to add, "I had a really good time that evening."

"No, you didn’t." The tension in Yoojung’s voice traveled through the radio waves and materialized as a faint ache in Kyubin's heart. "I remember the look on your face. You came over to relax, but I made your day worse."

"It’s not your job to lighten my mood."

"It’s a pretty good side effect of my job. Besides, it’s not like you don’t lighten my mood, too. I’d say we’re pretty even on the mood front."

"Well, that I’m glad about, but you shouldn’t have to do it every single time we meet. It must be getting pretty boring for you, right?"

"My first thought after a day of hard work was to call you," Yoojung said softly. "Would I do that if I found anything about you boring?"

Kyubin had to admit, that was hard to dispute. Still, he gave it a shot. "You did request a bedtime story, so clearly something about me puts you to sleep."

"Yeah, I thought I could fall asleep to your voice. It’s nice, I like it."

"Oh." Kyubin felt his face split with a dopey smile, making him all the more glad that Yoojung couldn’t see him. "How do you like it better, over the phone or when we’re face to face?"

"Hmm, that’s a hard choice." His voice went a little lower. "I like having it close, but I’m not sure which of these two options is closer. You’re either a few feet away in the same room, or right next to my ear and miles away."

"I’d like to be closer at some point," Kyubin said under his breath, and louder asked, "Remember our first meeting?"

The exhale Yoojung let out sounded like a laugh. "Hard to forget, you made quite an impression."

"Yeah, really sorry for that again, that was-" he cut off before he lost the courage to say what he wanted to say. "What I mean to say is, I like your voice too, and one of the reasons I was acting weird that night was because I didn't expect it to sound so warm. Is that weird to say?"

"It's not, and I'm gonna tell you something that's actually weird in return. Just promise you won't find me creepy after this."

"Sounds scary, but I promise."

Yoojung took a deep breath. "I saw you outside a couple times before you came in, and I was waiting for the day you'd cross the street. I had a whole scenario thought up of what our interaction would look like, that you'd appear kind of serious at first, but turn out to actually be really sweet beneath all that. And then you did come in and were nothing like it, so I got a little mad at myself for making that version of you up. I’m really glad I got to find out that’s exactly how you are."

"Am I?" Kyubin laughed, feeling strangely giddy all of a sudden. "Most people would probably describe me as serious and leave it at that."

"Nah, you’re too awkward for that. In a good way."

"How can I be awkward in a good way?"

"Cause it means you’re not putting on an act to seem cool or detached, you’re just being yourself. I’m honestly so done with guys trying to hide the more vulnerable parts of themselves, it makes it really fucking obvious that they don’t want any real connection."

"I do," Kyubin confessed, his pulse drumming a little faster. "I guess… being myself is easy around you."

Yoojung hummed quietly, and Kyubin imagined the sleepy smile that accompanied that sound. "We’re still on for tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, of course, I already looked into what we could do. I’ll use this opportunity to wish you good luck. Break a leg, is that the right thing to say?"

Yoojung laughed softly. "Yeah, that’s perfect. I’ll try not to actually break anything, I’m looking forward to something other than a hospital bed tomorrow."

"I’ll also watch my step carefully. We’d better hang up now, you should get a decent sleep."

"As fun as it would be to talk until morning, I agree."

Kyubin hasn't had a sleep this peaceful in years. While he didn’t wake up fully rested, the excitement of what was to come fueled his energy throughout the day, and with it, the restless anticipation which grew and dimmed as it pleased. It didn’t help that the weather seemed to reflect his inner imbalance, sunny sky and rain interchanging at random times.

He was making the second and final coffee of the day when Wookjin and Jisung entered the kitchen corner, halting their conversation when they spotted him. They nodded politely, but didn't resume talking to each other.

"Congratulations on the promotion," Kyubin said to Wookjin as a modest peace offering. "And thanks for all the juice."

Wookjin shrugged and leaned against the counter. "No problem."

Jisung's eyes jumped between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match. He went to stand a little further away, as if to make them pretend he was just another piece of furniture.

The water wasn’t boiling fast enough to fill the tense silence, so Kyubin took a deep breath and turned to Wookjin again. "I'm sorry about blowing up like that last time we talked. I was frustrated with the situation, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Wookjin shrugged again. "I figured you weren't having a good day, but I'm still not sure why you thought you stood no chance. Weren’t you their first choice?"

"No, Boss made it pretty clear that it would be you no matter what."

"Shit," Wookjin winced, "that sucks, I'd get mad too if they took a newbie in my place."

"You're not a newbie. You're way more suited for this than me, and frankly, I could learn a thing or two from you."

"Well, that goes without saying. I'm a model employee." Normally, that remark would’ve gotten on Kyubin’s nerves, but he suspected that it wasn’t meant to be a jab at his expense, just a harmless joke.

"You are," he agreed. "This place is much better with you in it."

"That’s sappy," Wookjin gave him a half-smile, "but thank you."

"Is this a good time to ask where we should go next weekend?" Jisung chimed in. "Kyubin, do you have a favorite bar we could all go to?"

Kyubin’s first instinct was to reward the question with a shrug and a half-assed excuse, but he finally felt awake enough to understand his reasoning, so he decided to be upfront. "I won't be coming along, I wouldn’t want to spoil your down time by making you all tense with my presence. It’s nice of you to invite me, but I won’t feel singled out if you stop, really."

Wookjin gave him a baffled stare. "What?"

"You know what, I'll go," Jisung said slowly as he backed out from the kitchen.

Wookjin faced Kyubin with a confused frown. "Are you telling me that you actually think you're not welcome there?"

"Well, most juniors would find it weird if I were to tag along, wouldn’t they?"

"I don’t fucking care what most juniors would think," Wookjin snapped. "These outings are for everyone who needs to unwind, and, no offense, you need that more than most. Everyone noticed you're having a hard time, so I wanted to give you an opportunity to relax after work."

"Everyone noticed?" Kyubin frowned. Has his image deteriorated completely?

"Believe it or not, people care. A lot of us look up to you and admire your work ethic, so when you turn into a ghost of your past self, it sets a bad example. I have to constantly remind the others that this is not a healthy way to function and they shouldn't copy you."

"I agree with that, but how would getting drunk be a good example?"

"Because it means a lot to us when our seniors get off their high horse. Seriously, why the fuck do you think I've been asking you out week by week if not to have you enjoy yourself just like everyone else?"

Kyubin bit his tongue before he could answer, To distract me from my work. "Politeness?" he suggested.

Wookjin scoffed. "Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, I don't do fake politeness. You know that you’re the only senior who doesn’t point out when I swear and don’t use honorifics?"

"Oh. Right, I suppose the others aren’t as spineless," Kyubin hoped his tone made it seem more like a joke than it felt.

"That’s what I thought about you at first," Wookjin admitted, "but then Yongsoo told me how easy talking to you feels for him. I actually really respect you for it now."

Kyubin bit the inside of his cheek to not show how ridiculously pleased he felt. "I could come along with you once or twice," he conceded. "I'm just not sure I’d be comfortable with getting drunk in front of a whole group of coworkers."

"Alright, I get that. We can always make plans one on one, if that’s what you’d prefer, with or without alcohol involved."

"That sounds good. Maybe we could also invite Yongsoo? And Jisung, I wouldn’t mind him coming, either."

"I’m sure he’d love to tag along, especially if we add Yongsoo to the mix."

Jisung chose that moment to stick his head into the kitchen. "Yes, bring Yongsoo, I second that."

Wookjin shook his head with an exasperated smile. "Were you eavesdropping the whole time?"

"No, I went to the bathroom." He stood behind Wookjin, casually laid his chin on the other's shoulder and whispered something into his ear. Kyubin watched the display with muted fascination - their relaxed body language, the way Wookjin didn't even flinch when Jisung encircled him in his arms to grab both of their cups off the counter.

They exited the kitchen talking in hushed voices, the rest of the world seemingly forgotten, leaving Kyubin slightly bewildered and curious as to how much he should read into what he just witnessed.

He left work two hours earlier than usual under the pretense of an appointment with a doctor, and went back to his apartment to change into better clothes. For the past week, he’d been wearing loose button downs and, if he was feeling particularly gutsy, dark jeans, so elegant clothes started to hold more meaning.

Ten minutes went by in front of the closet as he matched ties to vests and blazers of various shades, until his eyes settled on a suit hanging in the back. It was dark red with black accents and a subtle, hand-stitched rose pattern along the lapels. He remembered buying it with the thought of putting it on for a special occasion, but no such opportunity had presented until that point.

He decided to ditch the tie altogether, and undid the top button for a more relaxed look. Upon consideration, he unbuttoned the second one as well, and the third with hope that Yoojung would appreciate it.

He reached the Dance Center where the auditions were being held a few minutes before the agreed time, and stared intently at the people coming and going through the front door. Junhyung called him while drunk two nights prior and confessed that everything reminded him of Sungho, but he still refused to take the first step towards clearing everything up. Kyubin saw no other choice but to take matters into his own hands.

There was no guarantee the one he was looking for would show up, but after no longer than a minute of waiting, someone with a recognizable head of brown hair exited the building. "Sungho?" he called.

The man hesitated, looking him up and down until something like recognition sparked. "You're Kyubin."

"Yes, friend of Junhyung’s. Can we talk?"

Sungho seemed a little inconvenienced, but eventually approached Kyubin. "Yeah, okay."

"I just wanted to clarify that Junhyung wasn't with me that night. It was someone who looked like him, that’s all."

"Yes, Yoojung told me," Sungho said, his foot toying with a pebble. The unbothered reaction made Kyubin confused as to what exactly was the issue.

"So, now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, will you reach out to him?"

Sungho shrugged. "He doesn't want to talk to me again, he made that very clear."

"He’s just impulsive sometimes," Kyubin reasoned. "Well, most of the time. Listen, I may not know the specifics of what exactly went down between you two, but I’ve never seen Junhyung like this before. He cares, and whether you feel the same or not, I think you should talk it out in order to not leave any open wounds."

Sungho folded his arms over his chest. "I'll think about it."

Kyubin wasn’t sure if he actually meant it or just wanted to get rid of the stranger meddling in his personal life. His indifferent attitude was off-putting, but overall, he didn’t give the impression of a keen heartbreaker. While an innocent face could be deceiving, Kyubin had a sneaking suspicion the face he was being shown wasn’t the same one Junhyung liked so much.

Before Sungho could turn around and leave, Kyubin said, "I don’t know if Junhyung would be okay with me saying this, and it’s probably odd of me to say since the two of us are practically strangers, but… I think you should know that Junhyung is really good at pretending he doesn’t feel as deeply as he does. Yes, he’s very intense about some things, but he won’t show that he’s hurt so easily. If you choose to let him down, do it gently, and if you want him back but you’re not serious about him, be honest about your intentions. If you think he’s too much work, don’t lead him on."

Sungho looked straight into his eyes for the first time, his brows furrowed in confusion. "I’m not- I don’t think he’s too much work at all, and I would never lead him on. He’s so comforting to be around. I take him very seriously." His tone sounded distant in a way that made Kyubin feel like an intruder on whatever memories replayed in his head. Sungho also seemed to realize he said more than he intended, because he just bowed and walked away without meeting Kyubin's eyes again.

Kyubin thought about texting Junhyung to inform him about the progress, but before he could reach for his phone, the door opened again. Yoojung’s face split with a smile when he noticed Kyubin waiting for him. "Hey," he sounded out of breath, and as he walked closer, Kyubin saw that his face was flushed from exertion.

"Hey, how did it go?"

"Pretty well, I think, yeah. I’m just glad I can put this behind me, now all that’s left is to wait for the results." He exhaled with relief, and then his eyes widened when he looked Kyubin up and down. "Wow, you look..." He glanced down at his own T-shirt and blue jeans. "I didn't get the memo to dress fancy."

In an instant, Kyubin’s awareness of his own body concentrated in the spots that felt slightly itchy or too hot. "Should I have dressed differently?"

"No, you look amazing," Yoojung said appreciatively while stuffing his hands into his pockets which only furthered the divide between their appearances. "I guess I just thought we were having more of a casual day." So is this not a date after all?

"I've, uh, I booked us a table at a restaurant, it’s just around the corner. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, starving," Yoojung massaged his stomach with a pout. "I was so nervous that I didn't have a single proper meal today, I just drank, like, three liters of water. I'd kill for some ramen now."

"The restaurant is Italian. Would pasta be a good enough replacement?"

Yoojung bit his lip hesitantly. "Italian? That really fancy and expensive one?"

"It is fancy," Kyubin confirmed, "and I guess expensive too, but don't worry about that, it's on me. Unless you don't like Italian?"

"I do, that's not the problem."

"Then what is?" Kyubin asked self-consciously, hyper aware of every small hint that Yoojung wasn't excited.

A couple emotions played out on Yoojung's face until he settled on a smile. "No, nothing. Food is food, and right now, I'd eat a table. I don’t think they'll let me in looking like this, though, I gotta fancy up a bit." He raised his eyebrow in a way Kyubin knew meant trouble. "You should give me your suit jacket."

"Oh. Yeah, of course." Kyubin took it off quickly and handed it to him. All the worries he had about the odd start to the evening faded as Yoojung shifted the lapels around and tried to gauge the look in a window reflection. Whether it was stylish or not, Kyubin didn’t know and didn’t care. He was overcome with smugness at the simple action of having something of his draped over Yoojung.

"It’s a little too wide in the shoulders, but it’ll do." Yoojung turned away from his reflection, and his smile looked awfully pleased when he caught Kyubin’s eyes on him. In the tone of someone who knew the power he held, he asked, "How do I look?"

"You look…" Hot. Beautiful. Mine. "You look fancy enough."

Yoojung snorted. "Fancy enough it is, then. Let’s go." He chose the direction with confidence that suggested he was more familiar with the location of their destination than Kyubin was.

"I meant to say you look great," Kyubin clarified quickly. "You can keep it, if you like. For the evening, of course, not forever, I really like this suit."

Yoojung raised the sleeve to his nose. "I’ll keep it as long as it smells like your cologne. It’s nice, what is it? Actually, don’t answer that, I definitely can’t afford it."

Kyubin’s ears perked up at the last comment. "Would you use it if you got it as a present?"

"I’d feel pretty weird receiving an expensive present without an occasion."

"Well, when is your birthday?"

"In May. Sorry, you’re late."

"That’s fine, we’ve still got the next May," Kyubin said lightly.

Yoojung stayed silent for a moment. Eventually, he said, "Maybe we do," and it sounded like a wish for the wind to carry into the future.

Upon entering the restaurant, Kyubin felt a strong sense of accomplishment. Everything from the burgundy walls to the dim lighting seemed to be done with the intention to put the customers in an intimate mood, and the sound of the piano flowing from somewhere further inside sounded distinctly like a live performance. If there ever was a place with an atmosphere that could rival the one created by Yoojung so effortlessly in the café, this was the place.

The waiter led them among tables decorated with candles and vases with fresh roses. These small, pretty additions would’ve solidified Kyubin’s confidence in his choice if it wasn’t for the growing awareness that almost every such table was shared by one man and one woman.

He refused to meet anyone's eyes as they took their seats, as if that would magically make his and Yoojung’s presence there less suspicious. Yoojung, on the other hand, seemed keen to take in as much of their surroundings as possible, his hair dancing like the candlelight with each movement of his head. Whether his wide eyes were more confused or excited, Kyubin couldn’t tell.

After the waiter lit up their candles, he announced, "I apologize in advance if the food takes a little longer to arrive. The chef is still new, but makes his meals worth the wait. Could I interest you in a bottle of house red?"

"I’d like some," Kyubin turned to Yoojung, "wouldn’t you?"

Yoojung looked a little too confounded for such an innocent question. "Yes. Yes, I’d like some." After the waiter walked off, he kept glancing around the room while worrying at his lower lip. His hands were folded in his lap, not on the table, which was a detail that stood out to Kyubin only because of the dozens of harsh notes he received when he didn’t adhere to proper etiquette during meals.

"Do you like it here?" Kyubin asked, his back straight, hands flat on the table.

"Yeah, it's nice." Yoojung relaxed against the backrest a little more, which seemed like a good sign. "The chandeliers are a good choice, very atmospheric. Works well with the color scheme and the gold accents here and there."

"Oh, are you interested in interior design?"

"Not really, I just thumb through furniture catalogs when I’m bored." He tucked his hair behind his ear, and then did it again, despite the hair staying neatly in place after the first time.

A weirdly long silence fell at their table, and as it stretched from seconds into minutes, a frustrating realization dawned on Kyubin. He spent all week making sure this day would go smoothly, but he forgot the most crucial step of planning a date – to prepare a list of things to talk about. No wonder that it slipped his mind when conversation flowed so easily between them within the walls of the café, but in this new environment, both of them seemed equally thrown.

"The weather is acting up today, isn't it?" Yoojung broke the silence, the enthusiasm in his voice masking the dullness of the chosen topic.

"Yes, it’s very unpredictable. I thought about using reverse psychology and taking an umbrella to keep the rain from falling, but I decided not to carry it around." Great, so now all they had left to talk about was the fucking weather. Fortunately, the arrival of their wine cut that particular conversation short. Kyubin raised his glass in a toast. "To BlueBlueSeoul and your career with them."

"Yeah, to BlueBlueSeoul." Yoojung's fingers toyed with the glass stem for a moment, but eventually he raised it to his lips and let out a pleased sound at the taste. "Damn, I missed this."

"I take it you don't drink wine often?"

"I shouldn't, but... whatever, one glass won't hurt," he shrugged and followed that up with a larger sip.

Kyubin let the response sink in, adding another element to his mental list of signs that Yoojung might have bipolar - alcohol is discouraged. Just ask him, Junhyung’s voice said in his head, but Kyubin had enough tact to know that no matter how starved for topics they were, this wasn’t one to bring up on a date. If this was a date. Was this a date? Just ask him, Junhyung’s voice repeated, laced with annoyance.

The wine in Yoojung’s glass disappeared in a blink of an eye, but he didn’t seem any more relaxed than before, and the silence between them kept stretching painfully. The chatter around them, while quiet, was a distracting addition to what noise usually surrounded them when they sat across each other at a small table. The rich sounds of piano and clinking cutlery weren’t as good of a soundtrack as Yoojung’s playlist.

"I'm sorry," Kyubin said, making Yoojung look up at him in surprise. "You should be relaxing after weeks of hard work, but I brought you somewhere that makes you tense."

Yoojung smiled apologetically. "It’s not your fault. I’m trying to relax, I just find it kind of hard since my previous visit here was… messy, to put it lightly." He must’ve noticed Kyubin’s face fell a bit at having his suspicions confirmed, because he asked, "Does it bother you that you’re not the first person to take me here?"

"It doesn’t bother me as much as the fact that I picked a place that brings up bad memories."

Yoojung shook his head gently. "It’s fine. The date I was on here before sucked, but the food was amazing. I'm glad I get to try again."

The question as to whether try again applied to the food or the date - or both - was on the tip of Kyubin’s tongue. He took a big sip of wine to gather up the courage, but made sure to leave some in his glass, just in case the response was one he’d like to wash down with alcohol. "Is this a date?" he asked quietly, getting used to the shape of the words.

"Sorry, what?"

Kyubin took a deep breath. Just ask him! Junhyung’s voice yelled in his head. "Did you mean to ask me out on a date? Are we on a date right now?"

"Yeah, of course we are," Yoojung replied easily with no trace of mockery or judgment at Kyubin's ability to doubt the simplest, most obvious things. "At least I hope so. It’s only a date if you agree that it’s a date."

"I agree," Kyubin laughed, relief rushing into him so suddenly it almost made him lightheaded.

"Sorry, I thought I must’ve used that word at some point, but I guess not. Did you stress about this a lot?"

"A little, when I saw how you were dressed. I thought that having an elegant look for a date is one of those things that goes unsaid."

Yoojung scratched his neck, seeming a little embarrassed. "I would’ve dressed up if you'd given me a heads up that you reserved a table somewhere this upscale."

It perplexed Kyubin that someone could expect a date that didn’t include such a place. Had he projected himself as someone who wasn’t thoughtful enough to organize a nice evening for the two of them? Or was Yoojung’s definition of nice evening so far removed from his? Whichever of the two it was, he was determined to make sure Yoojung had a good time, whatever that might’ve meant to him. "Sorry, I see now that I should’ve run my whole plan for the evening by you. Maybe it would’ve been a nontraditional thing to do, but it would’ve saved us both some trouble."

Yoojung’s smile looked relaxed for the first time since they stepped over the threshold. "I’m pretty sure making date plans with another man is already a nontraditional thing to do, so it’s fine if all the other stuff is, too. What else have you planned for tonight?"

"Well, there’s an exhibit of sculptures that celebrate the art of dance, I thought that might interest you. As for movies, I wasn’t sure what genres you like, so I wrote down the repertoires of the two nearest theaters along with the plot summaries and actors’ names, just to make it easier to pick something." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Yoojung. "There’s also a really nice park not far from here where the lanes are decorated with colorful lights, we could have a stroll there once it gets dark."

Yoojung looked a little abashed as he scanned the paper with his eyes. "Wow, you took this really seriously. And here I was, thinking we’d have a casual day of walking around and improvising the activities on the spot."

"You said casual again," Kyubin pointed out hesitantly, unsure if he was supposed to take Yoojung’s comment as a joke.

"Yeah, I like casual, don’t you? Weren’t we both a lot more at ease in less formal places?"

"Maybe so, but… dates are supposed to be formal, even if it’s a little uncomfortable. It means we’re putting in more effort than we would while hanging out with a friend, right?"

That drew a quickly suppressed laugh out of Yoojung. "Sorry, that wasn’t- I wasn’t laughing at you. We have a wildly different idea about what dating is, don’t we?"

Kyubin’s perfect posture was ruffled when his feet started to fidget nervously, the only available outlet for the worries that crashed on him. "I don’t know. What’s your idea?"

"I actually really like that spending time with you feels like hanging out with a friend. It’s effortless in a way I haven’t felt with anyone I dated before. That’s why I asked you out, to continue this somewhere that’s not my workplace. I like that you’re basically a friend I don’t think of platonically, but I totally get it if you need these things to be more clear-cut. To you, dating means dressing up and exchanging expensive gifts, doesn't it?"

At this point, Kyubin really wasn’t sure what he thought dating meant to him. All this emotional energy spent on Yoojung just to be called a friend I don’t think of platonically, and instead of feeling upset, or even remotely confused by this seemingly contrary phrasing, hearing it sent a pleasant flutter through his body. No longer was he a spectator on the opposite side of the street, staring like a creep while a nameless pretty man danced to a tune only he could hear. Now, he was close enough to be deemed his actual friend. And when Yoojung admitted in one breath to not having platonic feelings for him, how could Kyubin feel anything but immense relief that bordered on elation?

"I just enjoy spending time with you," he said frankly, "and I also like when it feels effortless, I really do. I guess my intention tonight was to put in more effort, because I wanted it to be more special than the previous times we’ve hung out." He froze when Yoojung placed his hand on his, on display for everyone to see. He refused the instinct to jerk it back and hide it in his lap, and forced his eyes to not wander away from the candlelight’s dancing reflection in Yoojung’s dark irises.

"I like that this was your intention, and I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the effort you put in, because I do. All I’m saying is that getting to spend more time together is already special enough on its own, so that was my only expectation for today. I should’ve guessed you’re more of a classic romantic, though, cause it really suits you."

Kyubin cleared his throat. His hand had grown sweaty way too quickly, but he kept it there, resting under Yoojung’s warm and dry palm. The noise of the conversations around them didn't subside, nor did it rise in volume. The temperature stayed the same, the ground didn't open up, Kyubin's heart didn't leap out of his chest. Everything stayed as it was, except for one, invisible thing - a warmth inside him that wasn't there before, growing stronger. "I’m not sure I deserve that title," he reasoned half-heartedly.

Yoojung’s other hand came up to gently trace the pattern on the lapel. "The roses on your suit beg to differ. Honestly, even without this blazer on, you look like you walked straight out of a romance graphic novel."

"And… is that something you like?"

"Romance graphic novels? I gotta say, I don’t care for them. But you, putting on something that’s not only gorgeous, but also something you obviously enjoy wearing? Yeah, I like it very much."

"I enjoy you wearing it more than wearing it myself. You look gorgeous." It didn’t sound like much of a confession to his own ears, more like a jumble of repeated words, but it made Yoojung’s eyes crinkle in a delighted smile. His hand pressed ever so firmer down onto Kyubin’s, and was there a slightly pinker coloring in his cheeks? Maybe the effect Kyubin had on him shouldn’t be underestimated, and the classically romantic flavor of the evening had merely begun.

The sides of his vision faded into a blur of dark red, and everything that wasn’t Yoojung became insignificant when his eyes were drawn to a strand of Yoojung’s hair that stuck out a little oddly. An opportunity so perfect, he just couldn’t resist. "Hold on, you've got a-"

"Careful of the flame!"

Kyubin pulled his arm back and bumped his elbow into the vase of roses. He watched it tilt dangerously as if in slow motion, and his hands shot out to catch it before it crashed on the tiles. "Disaster averted," he said prematurely, because then he noticed that his wine glass had been knocked over with an impact that made its contents spill onto the table and drip into Yoojung’s lap. "Oh my- I'm so sorry," he whispered, utterly mortified.

Yoojung snorted as he stared at his lap helplessly. "You got your revenge for the ice cream stain and gave my boring-ass jeans a stylish upgrade in one go. Good job."

"I’m so, so sorry." Kyubin handed him a napkin, but Yoojung didn’t even bother to salvage his pants, he just used it to wipe the side of the table to stop more drops from falling onto him. Kyubin sat down heavily and hid his face in his hands. "Fuck, why is everything going horribly wrong?"

"This is still much better than the last time I was here, you know." Despite the content of the sentence, he sounded almost amused.

"I’m sorry," Kyubin repeated as he put his hands down and sighed resignedly.

"Don’t worry about it so much, I actually think this is really funny." He stood up, ignoring the side glances thrown from nearby tables, and presented the stain on his thigh to Kyubin like it was just some new accessory to show off. "Look, the shape kind of looks like a clover, isn't that cool?"

Kyubin ignored a snicker from the table next to theirs. "Yes, it’s cool," he attempted to trick himself to ease the humiliation. At least Yoojung was entertained by his clumsiness, he reassured himself, and immediately regretted it. He wasn’t supposed to rely on Yoojung’s approach to life to make himself feel better about his own… right? Or was this what friends were supposed to do for each other?

When it came to Junhyung’s outlook on life, he didn’t have the same reservations. He actively seeked out Junhyung’s support and guidance, but when it came to Yoojung, he felt inclined to hold back. Was it the amount of time they’ve known each other that made the difference? Was it the intensity of how open Kyubin was willing to be with Yoojung? Was it the very different end goal that his friendship with Junhyung lacked? Most likely all three, he reckoned.

Yoojung’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he looked around while massaging it. "The service here really is slow, huh? I want to ask the waiter how much longer it’s gonna take, but I can’t see him anywhere. I should’ve just ordered two portions, the ones they serve here are too tiny to fill my stomach."

"I could give you mine," Kyubin offered.

Yoojung shook his head with a laugh. "I knew you were gonna say it." Another sound came from his stomach, and this time, he looked really uncomfortable. That was the final push Kyubin needed to get the hell out of that disaster of a place.

"Would you like to go somewhere where the service is quicker?"

Yoojung smiled at him excitedly. "Can I take you to my favorite ramen shop? It’s a small family business, really cheap, but it’s delicious and it really fills you up."

The idea seemed very jarring to how Kyubin had envisioned the evening, but there were other priorities than his ego. "I’d love to try your favorite. Lead the way."

Yoojung looked ready to carry out the instruction, but then he turned apprehensive. "I’d hate to make you pay the full bill when you didn’t get to eat, though."

"Wait, can they make me pay for something I didn’t even get to see?"

"Not unless you leave the money on the table and run." Yoojung looked around conspiratorially. "Our waiter’s still nowhere to be seen, you know."

Kyubin lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. "And as a waiter yourself, you approve of this escapade?"

"I approve as a guy who always wanted to sneak out of a fancy restaurant without paying. Technically, that’s what I’ll be doing."

"They've got my number, though," he hesitated. "I'll just leave something to cover the whole bill, I don't want to cause them any problems."

"I see you're too noble to be a criminal."

"Too scared of the consequences, more like."

Yoojung patted him on the shoulder. "Whatever keeps you on the right path."

Kyubin wrote a quick note on the back of the movie repertoire and put the money with a big tip under the vase. Yoojung kept his hand on his shoulder on their way out, and the pressure kept Kyubin’s nerves at bay enough to calmly bow at a member of the staff by the door, who returned the bow without sparing them another glance.

Once the door closed behind them, Kyubin felt immensely relieved to be an anonymous face in a busy city. Yoojung’s hand slipped off his shoulder, and he almost reached out to catch it on impulse. The streetlights had just begun to switch on, but the sky was still fairly bright, and the crowd around them wasn’t dense enough to use touching each other as an excuse to not get separated.

He missed the privacy of enclosed walls and couples lost in their own little bubbles. Every person walking by had a separate set of values, built up over years of experiences wholly separate from Kyubin's own person, yet entirely directed at him the moment he did something out of the ordinary in the few seconds their paths crossed. The uncertainty as to who surrounded the two of them made him feel like an intruder on the street, a disruptor of decency. He wished the sun would set already. Everything felt much more inconsequential in the dark.

Yoojung seemed to exist just fine in the light, though. His fingers kept musking the back of Kyubin's hand, not shyly, but hopefully. For a brief moment, their pinkies intertwined, but then someone elbowed their way between them and pulled their hands apart.

A sudden urge hit Kyubin to wrap his arm around Yoojung’s shoulders and pull him flush against his side, make sure they couldn’t be torn apart so easily. Instead of acting on that impulse, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, the burning need to touch and hold extinguished by the self-imposed obligation to contain. "Sorry," he said. What he was apologizing for, he couldn’t specify.

"It's fine." The gentle tone made Kyubin believe that maybe, in some way, it was.

They veered off the main street, and the buildings around them grew gradually less and less attractive the further they got from the tourist-filled areas. The whole walk, Kyubin’s eyes had been drawn to restaurants that appeared, as Yoojung put it, upscale, and he couldn’t help but wonder how differently the evening would’ve gone had he picked one of these instead. Whatever subtlety he hoped he possessed wasn’t enough for Yoojung’s scarily good intuition.

"You wish we were going to a fancier place, don’t you?"

"Oh, no, it’s fine, I can compromise. Right now, all that matters is that you have a good meal. Pricey restaurants just aren’t your thing, right?"

Yoojung shrugged sheepishly. "I’ve got to be smart about how I spend my money, and that wasn’t it. I mean, 20,000 won for a small plate of risotto? You don’t find that shit ridiculously overpriced?"

"A little, but I don’t go out to eat often, so I don’t really mind. I would never expect you to pay for something you consider overpriced, though. That includes the other stuff I planned, too. I intend to cover the whole day financially."

Yoojung scrunched his nose in a light grimace. "It should be the other way, shouldn’t it? I invited you, I should be the one covering the costs. I’m gonna pay for the ramen, that’s for sure."

Kyubin’s initial thought was to protest when he remembered how upset Yoojung was when he realized he spent the largest bill on something trivial, but this was an entirely different context, and an entirely different sum. "Is rotating the payments something you like to do on dates, or do you prefer to split the bill every time?" he asked to clear the air before this stuff got too complicated.

"I’m fine with rotating, most of the time." He hesitated before continuing, "Look, you’re obviously a lot more comfortable spending money than I am, and I just want you to know, I don’t hate the idea of being treated. I want us to enjoy this equally, so if you ever want to organize another dinner like this one, just give me a heads up so I know to put more effort into my appearance. It’s just… I’d like to treat you in return, but my way of treating would have to be more about the gesture of paying for you itself, not the amount spent. Would that be good enough?"

Kyubin would’ve pondered over the question for longer than one second if the hot chocolate Yoojung made hadn’t come to mind immediately. It was probably the cheapest one Kyubin had ever drank, save for the ones in the automatons on metro stations, but the value of the taste was so much higher than anything expensive. "Yeah, it would be more than enough. Expensive doesn’t equal meaningful."

Yoojung smiled widely as he took Kyubin by the sleeve and pulled him into a passage between buildings, too narrow for a car to fit. Kyubin half-expected something wildly inappropriate for a public place would be done to him, but then the strong scent of spices hit his nose. "I think you’ll find having a meal bought by me in the place that actually deserves the title of Ultimate Bliss to be pretty meaningful."

The scent seemed to be the diner’s main advertising banner, because the outside was so inconspicuous that Kyubin’s eyes would’ve right passed over it. Even the white table and bench with flaking paint standing beside the door appeared more like an elderly person’s spot to read and drink tea than anything meant for a paying customer. Despite that, the chatter coming from the inside indicated that it was most likely packed wall to wall.

Yoojung pushed the door open and had to jump back to dodge a waiter carrying a large tray. This locale had none of the discreet lighting and seating arrangement of the previous one. Everything was white, bright and incredibly cramped, with the space to maneuver between the tables almost nonexistent. Suddenly, holding hands on a crowded street seemed like a very secretive activity.

"I don't see a single free table," Kyubin remarked. "Or chair, for that matter."

"We can eat on the bench outside, I’ve done it before." So, thoroughly casual, then.

They squeezed themselves between the chairs, and after many Excuse me’s, managed to push through to the counter.

"Hello," Yoojung had to yell over the chatter of the customers, "two of whatever can be done the fastest. Preferably with pork, please. And something to drink, but I don’t know what yet."

When he went to look at the fridge, Kyubin turned to the server. "My friend hasn’t eaten all day, would paying extra help hurry the food along?"

"Wow, trying to pass a bribe?" Yoojung joked without taking his eyes off the drinks. "You are a criminal after all."

"I’ll see what I can do," the server said. "We should have one bowl done in a few minutes, but the second one might come along later."

"That's fine, thank you." Kyubin slipped a bill into the tip jar.

After picking his soda and completing the payment, Yoojung leaned against the counter next to him, the space between them just a few inches short of platonic. Kyubin waited for the sudden rush of panic that would force him to step away, but it didn’t come. The volume of the conversations and general lack of formal manners resulted in a sense of anonymity, a feeling that anyone in this place could be anyone. All that mattered was that they were someone hungry, and here, they could quell that need.

So when Yoojung leaned forward a little bit, so did Kyubin, eliminating any unnecessary distance that would prevent a low-volume conversation. Every person around them who didn’t want to yell talked with their faces this close, and nobody cared what sensations it provoked inside them.

"So," Yoojung smiled mischievously, "friend, huh?"

"Oh, that. Can’t I also consider us friends?"

Yoojung studied him for a moment, and eventually nodded. "In some ways, I hope you can."

"And in other ways?"

Yoojung glanced down at where his fingers toyed with the sleeve of Kyubin’s blazer. "I wouldn’t want you to dress up like this for anyone else you call a friend, that's all."

"This is my first time wearing this suit," Kyubin admitted.

"Then I'm a very lucky man."

One bowl was placed beside them, and Yoojung dug in happily, swirling a large bit of noodles on his chopsticks. "Good to know that a bribe here works." He halted with his mouth open. "Sorry, my manners are shit. I should wait for your food to arrive, shouldn't I?"

"Don't hold back, you’ve been waiting long enough."

"That I have." He filled his mouth and groaned with satisfaction. He followed that up with another enormous serving, and another, so that once Kyubin’s portion arrived, almost everything in his bowl was gone.

"Would you like some of mine?" Kyubin offered, and before Yoojung tell him I knew you were going to say it, he added, "You’ve never actually accepted any of my offers. Would you do it now?"

Yoojung’s amusement faded into something softer. "Thank you," he said as Kyubin put their bowls closer together and allowed him to take as much as he wanted.

When they went to sit outside at the small, plastic table, Kyubin reluctantly gathered a spoonful of soup, having had enough of the instant ramen taste for months. Then, the flavor spread on his tongue, and he immediately followed it up with another spoonful. This was the taste of something that had substance. He hadn’t realized how much he missed eating hot meals prepared by skilled chefs, regardless of the price placed next to the name on the menu.

While Yoojung was waiting for him to finish eating, Kyubin asked, "If you were in charge of everything we do on a day out like this, what else would you like us to do?"

"As you can see, I’m a very simple guy when it comes to this stuff. Too simple, probably."

"I could do with more simplicity in my life."

Yoojung sighed dreamily. "I’d like to walk around aimlessly, hold hands, flirt obnoxiously, probably make some old lady disgusted. If I were to pick a movie, I’d pick a shitty one that we could whisper funny commentary over until we’re laughing so hard that we're asked to leave. Then, once it’s dark, we could make out in an alley until someone shouts a slur at us, and then finally find a place to be alone. Doesn’t that sound fun to you?"

"Parts of it do," Kyubin admitted to his own surprise, "but I doubt I would’ve been able to go through with all of them. It’s all a little out of my comfort zone."

"Yeah, that’s fair." His brows drew into a small frown. "Do you regret that we didn’t stick to your plan for how today would look?"

"No, not at all. I’m really glad you took me here, this place is great."

"But it doesn’t really live up to what you consider a date, does it? It’s not anything special."

Kyubin shrugged. "I’m not sure I’d consider my plan to be all that special, either. It seemed like the only way to ensure a good date, but I’m glad we went off plan. Just because this place isn’t what I’d call a typical date spot doesn’t mean I don’t see why it’s special to you."

"I didn’t bring you here because the place in itself is special, you know. It’s my company for tonight that’s really damn special, so I knew that wherever we went, you’d find a way to make me appreciate it more than I did before."

His hand which rested on the bench next to Kyubin’s shifted closer, and aside from the sensation of smooth skin, there was also the soft hem of the suit jacket’s sleeve. Yoojung was by far the one who took a date the least seriously out of everyone Kyubin had ever gone out with, yet no matter how decked out his previous dates were in expensive jewelry, seeing his jacket around their bare shoulders never caused his breath to hitch. It might’ve been the wine talking, but Kyubin couldn’t imagine Yoojung looking any better than he did at that moment.

"I understand what you mean," he admitted.

Yoojung looked at him with muted surprise. "You do?"

"Yeah, of course. Sitting here feels much more special than any expensive meal with a woman I have no feelings for, so obviously this is more of a date than whatever that was. The company matters so much more than the formality of activities." He scoffed frustratedly. "It’s such a basic thing to realize, right? I’m thirty, I should have this shit figured out by now."

"I’m pretty sure there’s no time limit on figuring yourself out."

"I know, I just- I wanted to redefine myself in some way today, but all I did was stick to my old habits and attempt to recreate them with you. That’s not good enough."

Yoojung’s ankle pressed lightly against his. "You’re redefining yourself now, isn’t that good enough?"

No, it’s not, Kyubin thought, but then realized the answer wasn’t as clear. Coming to a mutual understanding and expanding his definition of what good meant was good enough. Needing Yoojung to bring him to that understanding, however, wasn’t good enough. To entwine his worldview so deeply with someone else’s and grow through their perspective was a dangerous thing, and yet, he kept finding himself in situations where he was better off by letting himself fall into it.

He had to stifle a sigh when he realized he was doing exactly what he wanted to avoid. "Sorry, I keep bringing the topic back to my problems as usual. Today isn’t about me."

Yoojung raised one eyebrow skeptically. "I’m pretty sure a date is supposed to be as much about you as about me, and I sure as hell don’t mind talking about this." Before Kyubin could raise the question of Why?, Yoojung was already saying, "You know, when I was starting to figure my shit out, I found out the most about myself just by fucking around. Not strictly that kind of fucking, although that was definitely part of it, but I mostly mean diving head first into whatever came around. I went for what felt right, didn’t dwell on what felt wrong, and somewhere along the way I started to feel confident about my choices."

"You make reconstructing a whole person from the ground up sound awfully easy."

"It wasn’t, but it got the job done. What I’m saying is, going outside of your comfort zone is a pretty good way to find out what you really want."

Kyubin almost said You’re outside of my comfort zone and I really want you, but bit his tongue at the last moment. Although, might’ve this been exactly the kind of obnoxious flirting Yoojung wanted?

His string of thought was broken by a drop of rain which fell onto his hand. He scurried closer to Yoojung’s side so the tiny roof above covered them both, and in that short moment, dozens of droplets had already decorated the ground. Soon enough, rain was pouring down all around them relentlessly.

Yoojung shot up from the bench, took the suit jacket off and outstretched his hand to Kyubin. "Is being silly in the rain on your list of classically romantic date activities?"

Even if it hadn’t been before, it was now. Kyubin did his best to ignore the people and cars passing by in his periphery as he took Yoojung’s hand and let himself be pulled up. His shoulders went up defensively as the rain hit his head, but he kept going until they were both standing fully in the rain.

Yoojung laughed brightly as he spun by himself a few times, arms spread wide, droplets falling into his open mouth. "It’s been too long since I’ve last done this."

"Gotten drenched from head to toe?"

"That happens every night in the shower. I meant having fun in the rain." He stopped spinning and took hold of Kyubin’s hand once again. When Kyubin’s body remained rigid, he leaned in to say, "Stick your toes out of your comfort zone a little. All anyone else cares about is not getting their own toes wet."

He raised their joined hands and led Kyubin into a twirl underneath them, and Kyubin had to chuckle in order to ease the embarrassment as he replicated the same move on him. Yoojung took his other hand and made them both turn at the same time, which felt exactly as he warned it would - silly. Kyubin couldn’t stop smiling.

Their hands clutched tightly and they began spinning, laughter increasing with each turn. The buildings around them became a blur behind the thick curtain of water. No streetlight in Kyubin’s periphery was enough to dim the brightest thing on the whole street, right in front of him, laughing with his full chest.

Their hands slipped out of each other’s hold and they both stumbled backwards, their surroundings coming into focus once again. People were rushing past them, but that didn’t cause as much discomfort as standing idly in such a heavy downpour. The rain fell at an angle which the small roof wouldn’t have protected them from, so Kyubin headed blindly into the direction of a more spacious roof.

Instead of staying out to keep enjoying himself, Yoojung ran next to him without question. "I can’t let you be a mature adult by yourself," he explained, barely audible over the relentless drumming of water against concrete.

"You’re telling me this wasn’t what mature adults do? Well, damn."

They reached the convenience store roof, and the rain chose that moment to thin out, and then stopped falling altogether, like all it wanted was to play hide and seek. Yoojung snorted as the final drops fell onto the sidewalk. "Wow, gotta love the inconsistency of summer weather."

"You do love it, don’t you?" Kyubin asked as he pushed wet strands of hair away from his eyes. "The rain, not the inconsistent weather."

Yoojung inhaled deeply and looked up to the clouds, their dark shapes barely distinguishable from the late evening sky. "Yeah, I dance in the rain pretty much anytime I get the opportunity. It feels good. Freeing."

Then he looked at Kyubin with his smile unchanged, as if the presence by his side offered equal solace as the vast sky. Something about the shape his lips took when they smiled in this way made Kyubin think hasty things like delicious, and there was only one way to check whether it was accurate.

He watched a drop of water trickle down Yoojung’s face and neck, all the way to the half-transparent shirt sticking to his skin. The heady scent of rain wasn't able to overpower Kyubin's favorite one. If anything, it made it so strong that he wouldn’t be surprised if it could permeate his clothes without even touching.

He forced his hands to stay by his sides not to do something incredibly reckless, especially when Yoojung stepped closer to detach a lock of hair sticking to his neck and said, "You smell differently, have you given up smoking?"

"I'm trying. I never wanted it to become a habit."

"Good, I'm glad you're being healthy." He leaned down and inhaled deeply by the side of Kyubin's neck. "Yeah, I really like this cologne. I mean, I don't mind the smell of cigarettes, but I'm not into the taste, like, at all."

Kyubin forced his lungs to act like there wasn't a limited amount of oxygen in the narrow space between them. "I'll, um. I'll keep that in mind."

Yoojung moved his face away a little, but his hands came up to Kyubin's collar to give it a gentle tug. Then, they traveled downwards, the faint brushing of soft fingertips against collarbones raising the temperature enough for the water to evaporate from Kyubin’s skin.

As if Yoojung’s life mission was to affect Kyubin to the very depths, overload his senses and leave him with no other objective but to want, his hands made their way upwards again, along the roll line of the collar, leaving a tingling line around Kyubin's neck. Once his hands met at the back, Kyubin was enclosed, and his breaths grew shallow.

Yoojung’s gaze shifted to his lips, and Kyubin knew this was the moment his eyes should naturally fall shut, but even when he commanded his eyelids to close, they didn’t budge. He knew what he wanted to do, every desire coursing through him cried out for him to act, for fuck’s sake, but their multitude rendered him immobile. The idea of actually kissing Yoojung had a little too much time to do laps in his head, and his body began to act like it was entirely disconnected from the rest of him. The longer he waited for some streak of courage to break himself free from this stupor, the less attainable it became.

Yoojung looked up to meet his eyes again, but there was no irritation there, no displeasure, only kindness. Kyubin's eyes finally found his lips, and although they weren't smiling, there was tension in them which Kyubin was able to read as contained joy only because they were this close, closer than ever before, and it made Yoojung happy.

"I taste like ramen," Kyubin blurted out.

Yoojung blinked, and Kyubin’s eyes widened in horror. Before he could add anything that would ruin the moment further, a sudden splutter of laughter burst out of Yoojung. He hid his face in the crook of Kyubin’s neck as Kyubin wiped the drop of saliva that hit his cheek with a miraculously dry bit of his sleeve. Even if the downpour returned right at that moment, it wouldn’t have been able to tone down the burning embarrassment.

Yoojung raised his head while still trying to get the amusement under control. "You- oh my god, okay. No ramen kisses, got it."

"Sorry, I didn’t intend to say that."

"It’s fine. I wouldn’t have minded the taste, but we all have our preferences." He stepped away and rubbed his arms up and down vigorously.

"Oh, are you cold?" Without waiting for his answer, Kyubin ran back to the bench where the jacket had thankfully not been stolen from, and handed it to Yoojung. "It’s dry, you can take it back."

Yoojung looked faintly impressed as he allowed Kyubin to put the jacket on him. "If your intention was to make me swoon, good job. Are you not worried about getting a cold? Cause if you are, I’ve got dry clothes at my place. A spare toothbrush, too, if you wanna get rid of the ramen taste." He let the proposition hang, his eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

"Right," Kyubin said automatically. The implication of what Yoojung wanted to happen was obvious, but that was all it remained - an implication. It wasn’t as clear of a green light as Kyubin had been hoping for, and he wasn’t going to press his foot down confidently just to end up with a traffic ticket. "Well, the night is still young, so how about we walk around a little longer? Not necessarily to do anything off my plan, I just like night walks."

"So do I. You know, unless discarding the whole plan is something you wanna do as part of this whole redefinition thing, I’d actually like to see those lights you mentioned."

"Good, I would like to see them as well."

They made their way back to the main street, where the colorful lights stood out visibly against the darkness on the other side of the road.

Before they reached the entrance gate, Yoojung extended his hand. "Could we maybe combine this with a thing off my list and hold hands?"

Bright lights above, darkness all around. A compromise.

Before their skin made contact, Kyubin warned, "My palms get really sweaty."

"Sweaty palms are my favorite," Yoojung joked. "We can hold hands without touching palms, if you like." He pressed the backs of their hands together and slipped one finger between Kyubin’s, making them spread wider to invite him into the intervals. Once their knuckles crossed over each other, Yoojung clenched his fingers with a pressure light enough to feel pleasant, strong enough to prevent Kyubin from making an easy escape. And this, this was what Kyubin wanted to feel the week before. No matter how unusual the angle they chose to overlap was, he felt that they fit.

Maybe seeing Kyubin’s awe as he stared at their hands made Yoojung mistake it for anxiety, or maybe he just wanted to offer some reassurance before they stepped into the crowd, because he said, "People don’t usually assume I'm a man unless they stare really hard or hear me speak. Nobody is gonna notice."

"How do you know they won’t assume I’m also a woman?" Kyubin joked, unruffled.

"If they do, they’ll be amazed by what a handsome butch lesbian they’ve just come across."

The decorations extended beyond the main lane, so to avoid the most crowded area they quickly snuck into a more remote side path. It was lined with trees which had fairy lights wrapped around their trunks, and the branches extending overhead had small, luminescent jars hanging from them, giving the impression of a starry sky right at their fingertips.

All too shortly, the confidence Kyubin felt before they passed the gate ran out. For the first few minutes of their stroll, which was as slow as it was silent, he kept his chin low. Each time he felt like looking up to admire the attractions above their heads, he accidentally made eye contact with a stranger, or saw a couple holding hands without a care in the world, and his head snapped back down.

Yoojung’s chin was raised high the whole time, wide eyes taking in each item like they held more meaning than what they appeared as, glass jars with a lightbulb stuck inside. He hadn’t spoken any of his observations aloud, and at first, Kyubin worried that this sudden quiet between them was caused by his fear of how they’d be perceived if Yoojung were to speak aloud. This worry faded with a single glance at Yoojung’s absorbed expression, almost child-like in its wonder. He was just enjoying the sight, as they both ought to.

Slowly, Kyubin let his eyes travel upwards, until they explored their surroundings freely. Groups of passerby gradually turned into duos, duos into a single person walking by occasionally. It felt like they were heading into a private world, and the sound of the busy city had become mere background music.

"Are you comfortable right now?" Yoojung asked as they made their way down a path lined with pink light sticks, with paper cranes in various sizes and colors swaying gently over their heads.

"What do you mean?"

"Walking like this, in silence. I think we’ve established that we feel comfortable talking to each other, but whenever I've heard the phrase comfortable silence, I couldn't imagine what that's like, to be so at ease around someone that everything feels effortless. So, I wanna know, do you feel comfortable?"

"Yes," Kyubin replied, and meant it. He wasn't not tense, but this was a kind of tension he began to associate with Yoojung's presence. Not the nauseating kind he was used to, but a sense of anticipation, a demand for more. He wouldn't trade it for an empty, agreeable silence with anyone else. "Yeah, I do. Do you?"

Yoojung took a moment to respond. "Yes and no."

"Ouch," Kyubin said somberly with a hand over his heart.

Yoojung shoved him lightly. "Don’t get me wrong, this is definitely the most comfortable that silence has felt in a while."

"But?"

Once again, Yoojung seemed to have some sort of internal battle before responding, "Ah, forget it, I don’t know why I brought it up. All I meant to say is that I’m really glad you feel comfortable walking like this with me."

"Yeah, and it only took me a quarter of an hour to feel this way," Kyubin said self-deprecatingly. Before he could apologize for the n-th time, Yoojung squeezed his fingers gently.

"You didn’t pull away even once for a whole quarter of an hour. That’s good enough, be proud of yourself for it." It sounded like a statement that should either be said sarcastically or followed up by a bashful apology for its corniness, but Yoojung didn’t resort to either.

Reaching deep to grasp the roots of Kyubin’s shame and remove them from deficient soil came effortlessly to him. He could’ve just yanked them out without a care if he wanted to, he certainly had the power to do so. Instead, he chose to pull them out gently so that no damage would be done, so that Kyubin could grow bigger and more splendid in a pot that fit him better. It made Kyubin want to throw out any caution he had left and place all of himself in Yoojung’s hands.

As they entered the second quarter of the hour, he didn’t know where the borders lay anymore; which things were meant to be spoken and which kept silent, what aspects of themselves were meant to intertwine and which were best kept separate. This was the chaos outside of his comfort zone that he had to learn to instinctively navigate.

"Are you proud of yourself?" he found himself asking. "Of… your identity?"

"You can say gay, you know, it’s just a word."

"I know, but I wasn’t sure if that’s what you are."

"That’s fair. I wouldn’t say I’m proud of being gay on its own, but… proud of myself for not being scared and ashamed, yeah." He inhaled to continue, but then closed his mouth abruptly and took a moment to pick his words. "All things considered, I haven’t struggled with accepting myself for very long. I went through a period of denial, but then I realized being unapologetically queer is the biggest middle finger I could give to my family."

Kyubin suspected that this little kernel of information was offered in faith that no further questions would be asked. "I’d like to be as unapologetic as you are one day. I don’t want to be scared of these things so much. People's attention on me, on us."

"It's not your fault you're scared. I mean, it's not like it's an unreasonable fear, it's a kind of fear that keeps you safe. Your reaction is completely normal, actually, I'm the one who's reckless."

"Then I guess I want to become reckless as well. I’ve wasted a lot of time being safely afraid, and frankly, I’m sick of trying to be acceptable." He spat that word out with all the contempt he felt for his compliance.

Yoojung nudged him gently. "You’d rather be unacceptable? How scandalous."

"If unacceptable is who I really am, then yes." His hand was squeezed again, a gesture so quietly kind that Kyubin understood why not pulling away was meant to fill him with pride.

They’d reached the end of the crane path, but instead of continuing forward into the dark, Yoojung turned them around to admire the suspended paper creatures once more. "I didn’t always have the nerve to be so casual about all of this, you know. It’s not like I don’t still notice when people stare, or like I’m not scared of a reaction more violent than a couple words."

"How are you able to do it, then?"

"I imagine running up to the edge of a cliff and jumping off. Sounds random, I know, but all of a sudden kissing a guy with people around doesn’t seem like that big of a deal at all."

"You must be really scared of heights."

"I’m not. I’m just saying, there is always something worse you could be doing, something more risky." He stood on his toes and reached up to give one crane a flick on the tail. "Something with more severe consequences." The forced detachment with which he said it made Kyubin regret ever bringing the topic up.

"I’m sorry."

"Again?" Yoojung looked at him with faint amusement. "As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done nothing today that would require so many apologies."

"I really do mean every single one of them. Especially this one. I always steer the conversation somewhere that leads to you having to sort through my emotional mess. I’m going to try harder," he promised.

"Take it slowly, I don’t mind." Yoojung walked closer so their sides were pressed together, and involuntarily, Kyubin leaned against him more firmly. "Face it, your emotional mess makes you very fascinating to me."

Kyubin faltered in his step, and then stopped walking altogether, their fingers slipping out of each other’s hold as the meaning of the words settled in. "Oh."

"Fuck, wow," Yoojung sounded a little shocked, like he belatedly heard what came out of his own mouth. "That came out really fucking wrong, I didn’t mean- Your problems aren’t the reason I’m interested in you, definitely not."

"Well, I hope so," Kyubin said quietly, "since I’m actively trying to fix them and whatnot."

"And that’s amazing, you’re amazing for that." Yoojung’s eyes searched his face anxiously. "I’m being way too nosy, aren’t I? You said you want to limit the personal things you talk to me about, so I should respect your decision regardless of how I feel about it."

Kyubin wished he knew what his decision even was. "How do you feel about it?"

Yoojung raised his shoulders in a shrug which looked like an attempt to make his frame appear smaller. "I really enjoy these talks. To be honest, I kind of hoped you didn’t really mean it when you apologized. That’s shitty of me, isn’t it?"

"Why would you hope I didn’t mean it? Don’t get me wrong, I’m really grateful for all your help in figuring my shit out, but this is not what you signed up for."

"I signed up for getting to know each other," Yoojung replied simply. "Besides, it’s not like you’re unloading stuff on me that I’m not asking for. It’s always a two-way conversation, and I enjoy my part in it." His hands gripped the cuff of Kyubin’s shirt. "I won’t ask for anything unfair. I totally get that me not being as willing to share would make you feel uncomfortable."

"Sharing personal stories isn’t a competition," Kyubin said firmly. "But I still don’t understand, why do you enjoy walking me through my own mess like this? Are you getting anything out of it?"

"I like your sincerity. I like how intently you listen to me, and how you try to understand my perspective. I like that there’s not a single cynical bone in your body. I need it in my life."

A light gust of wind caused a strand of his hair to flutter across his face. All the colorful cranes above them swayed with a dancer’s grace, and Kyubin couldn’t remember his thought process anymore. Yoojung’s words held a tentative promise of an indefinitely long tomorrow he wanted Kyubin to stay around for. If only looking into his eyes could open a window into said tomorrow. Everything would become much clearer if Kyubin could see the consequences of taking a leap off the cliff and trusting that the waves below won’t break his heart along with his bones.

"There are a couple bones in me that are cynical," he admitted. "I’m really not used to being sincere. All these things I’ve never shared with anyone just kind of spill out when I’m talking to you, and once I start, I don’t want to stop. That’s the problem. There are things I should be dealing with on my own, and involving you feels… it feels right, until it doesn’t. It feels irresponsible."

"It feels nothing but right to me," Yoojung said softly. "You wanna know what I enjoy most about our conversations? That I can say whatever comes to my mind in response to something sincere you share with me, and that thing I say rings true for you so strongly that you actually use it to become happier with your life. I’ve never clicked with someone this well before. I have no idea how it’s even possible."

Kyubin moved the disobedient strand of hair behind Yoojung’s ear, and the gesture made all the tension in Yoojung’s features melt away. Apparently, irresponsibility came with a reward. "It’s possible because we’re so similar," he said lightheartedly.

Yoojung let out a relieved laugh. "Hey, if you want me to take that back, I’m not going to. I still feel like we’ve got more in common than differences."

"Maybe so. Listen, I- I’d just like to figure out a better balance," he conceded. "I want us to have sincere conversations, and I want to figure out my own shit, but I also want us to have fun together without me constantly worrying that I’m ruining the atmosphere."

Yoojung looked content with that answer. "Can’t complain about that. You know, um, since we’re on the topic of sincerity… Actually, no, this isn’t relevant. I mean, it is, but I don’t know why I brought it up. Again."

"Maybe because you’d like to get it off your chest?" Kyubin suggested.

A heavy sigh prefaced Yoojung’s response. "I should make an effort, shouldn’t I? Not telling you this would be blatantly lying to your face. The truth is that until the very last minute, I kept thinking about calling the date off."

"Oh." Since he didn’t seem to have any regrets about going through with it, Kyubin felt only a little concerned. "Why?"

"Cause I was really worried that the audition would go poorly and I wouldn't be in the right mood. Honestly, if I wasn’t with you right now, I’d be fucking spiraling. I got way too ambitious while making the choreography, and then once- once I got myself under control a bit, I had like three days left to make something that would be actually presentable. I’ll never forgive myself if I ruined the best opportunity I’ve ever had, I was so fucking stupid, so immature-"

"Hey," Kyubin caught his hand properly, palm pressed to palm, and Yoojung took a calming breath. "The audition went well, right?"

"I think so. I hope so." He took both of Kyubin’s hands. "Thank you for distracting me tonight. I know I was a lot more confident last week, so I get if this is confusing to you, but I was overexcited back then. Double thank you for trying to reign me in. I don’t normally approach important stuff this recklessly, but if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve wasted even more time."

"You’re welcome. And, listen, my opinion here may not ultimately count for much, but I don’t think you have anything to be worried about. They’ll see your passion, they’d have to be blind not to."

Yoojung shook his head, eyebrows drawn together tensely. "Passion isn’t enough. I have no formal training, no experience with big stages and competitions. One of the members has a saying that goes, You become a professional dancer the moment stage fright freezes your entire body, but you still put on the best show you can. I’ve never been in front of an audience big enough to feel that."

"But you got through to the final round, so you've got the qualities they're looking for," Kyubin pointed out.

"Yeah," Yoojung scoffed, "I often do, but only up until a certain point. It's really fucking discouraging to be rejected so many times, you know. My inbox is overflowing with emails that start with Thank you for your application, unfortunately blah blah blah. Most are just a response to a video I sent, which sucks, but it sucks less than getting the same response after an audition I attended in person. The thing is, I need to see people respond to my performance to feel like what I’m doing makes any sense, but the judges have zero emotion on their faces. And, I know, don’t take it personally, they’re just doing their job, but… at a certain point, it feels pretty personal when I try my hardest every single fucking time and nobody seems to care."

Kyubin squeezed his hands. "It’s amazing that you keep trying and refuse to give up."

"Yeah, I don’t really see giving up as an option, to be honest. I can't imagine my life without dance, I can’t imagine myself without dance, so as long as my body’s working properly, I’ll keep trying. I refuse to be stuck in place when I know things could be better."

"The day you step onto the stage and a whole crowd of people responds to your performance must be really close. I can hear it already, everyone screaming your name and begging for an encore."

Yoojung’s small smile quickly turned into a smirk that meant trouble. "I hope you’re counting yourself into that, I’m sure you’d sound amazing screaming my name."

Kyubin looked away from the playful spark in his eyes and cleared his throat. "When you perform on a huge stage, I’ll join in with the cheering, yes."

"Hm." When Kyubin glanced at him again, the smile on his face looked a little forced. He pulled one hand out of Kyubin’s hold, but left the other in place to tug gently so they could start walking. "Usually, my favorite part of a performance is seeing the emotions on individual faces, but I wouldn’t mind loud applause from a crowd so huge I can’t see the back row. It must make a person feel so fucking high, I can’t even imagine. Maybe I’ll get to feel that if I get in."

"When you get in."

Yoojung huffed a short laugh. "Since when are you such an optimist?"

"I believe in you, that’s all. I have no doubt that you can do it."

Yoojung intertwined their fingers. When he spoke, he spoke as softly as one would in order to not scare off an easily startled animal. "When I get in, we’ll celebrate together, okay?"

Kyubin met the eyes looking at him expectantly, hopefully. "Wouldn’t you rather celebrate with your friends?"

"You agreed that we are friends."

"Right, we are. Okay, let’s celebrate together."

Above their connected hands, Yoojung’s other hand wrapped around his wrist, and the grip of his fingers made Kyubin suspect that he was using all of his willpower to not do something more daring. He didn’t get a chance to find out what it was, because suddenly Yoojung said, "I can’t tell if this is a memory or some dream I had, but did I promise to show you the choreo I was making for the audition?"

"Yeah, you did. There was apparently a forty minute version and a five minute version, but I’m guessing the former idea didn’t last."

Yoojung barked out a laugh. "Yeah, a forty minute version was way too ambitious. It ended up being around three minutes long." He handed Kyubin’s jacket back to him and started stretching.

"Wait, you want to show it to me here?" The path they found themselves on was a small and secluded one, one of the only undecorated ones, but there were still people walking by occasionally.

"Yeah, the surface is good enough," Yoojung replied airily. Right, he was probably already numb to the eyes of strangers. "Are you okay with watching it without sound?"

"That’s how you told me you’d present it," Kyubin reminded him.

"I know, but I ended up picking a piece of music, it was a requirement. I stand by what I said, though, I think it works better in silence."

After he warmed up, he stepped into the middle of the dim light cast by the sole working streetlamp and raised his hands.

The routine was captivating in a different way than those Kyubin watched on the small screen. Yoojung was no longer a two-dimensional figure made up of little pixels, but a vibrant body which moved with such vigor that Kyubin felt the impact against his skin in gentle wafts of air. Even when his movements looked relaxed and unshackled, he exuded immense control over his own body, and Kyubin stared, mesmerized.

About halfway through, he attempted to create some sort of interpretation. Every flick of Yoojung’s wrist and every small shift in his expression held vivid emotion, but no matter how hard Kyubin tried, he couldn't see a story with a narrative. There were a few disjointed revelations here and there, small hints at an emotion which accompanied Yoojung in the moment he was portraying. Some of them were free and joyous, and some were filled with tension and distress, both states bleeding into each other as the choreography went on. A union of hope and hopelessness.

He finished with his chest heaving, arms and eyes directed upwards. Though the streetlight was directly above him, Kyubin suspected the gesture was more meaningful. A plea towards something beyond their line of sight, perhaps.

Yoojung’s eyes held all those same emotions as they moved down to meet Kyubin’s, and all Kyubin wanted was to reach for him, feel with his hands the proof that beauty could be touched and held, and could look at him like this, like he deserved to be shown beautiful things.

He flinched when someone started clapping right next to him, and only then did he notice that a crowd of ten or so people had formed around them.

"That was really good!" a loud remark came. "Where’s the hat to drop a coin in?"

"I wasn’t busking," Yoojung laughed, "just a little show I put on for my friend. That being said, I’ll be accepting cash."

A woman came up to him and handed him her phone. "Do you have SNS I could follow you on? Or... maybe a phone number?"

Yoojung gave her the same smile he gave to customers as he accepted the phone. "This is the studio I’m part of, we’d welcome your support."

Kyubin was content with standing by and letting him soak in the much deserved adoration, but then the new fan pushed her phone into Yoojung’s hands once again. "Come on, you know that’s not what I meant."

"I know," Yoojung replied without batting an eye, "but I don’t give out my personal contact info to strangers."

"If you let me give you my personal contact info, I won’t be a stranger."

Her determination was admirable, Kyubin would give her that. The irritation he felt when she touched Yoojung’s bare forearm wasn’t jealousy, nor was it concern. It was just annoying to see someone approach Yoojung so openly, with a forwardness she might not have even realized wasn't afforded to everyone. Kyubin may have taken weeks to gather up the courage to ask for his number, but he was the one for whom Yoojung had performed, and he was the one Yoojung had poured his heart out to in the best way he knew how.

He walked up to them and handed Yoojung the suit jacket again. "Can we go?"

Yoojung accepted the jacket, and whatever he saw on Kyubin's face made the professional expression slip off. "Yeah, let’s go. Thank you," he turned to the woman, who took her phone back with a resigned smile, "I'm flattered, but I’m not looking for new friends." Kyubin’s fingers tightened around his wrist a little, and Yoojung looked satisfied as he let himself be pulled along. "There’s a possessive streak in you, isn’t there?"

"Maybe." Kyubin gave him a cautious glance. "Is that bad?"

"Bad? Oh my- It was hot enough on its own, but the fact that you asked made it infinitely hotter." He leaned closer to Kyubin’s ear. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough strolling for one evening. My flat is a short walk from here, at least by big city standards."

"I’ll walk you to your door," Kyubin offered, and didn’t miss the way Yoojung’s face fell. He pulled his wrist out of Kyubin’s hold and put his hands in his pockets, the suit jacket folded in the crook of his arm. Since he didn’t reject the offer to be walked back, Kyubin stayed by his side, letting him guide them through streets familiar only to him.

After a few minutes of silence that no longer felt comfortable, Yoojung asked, "Wait, is this because of that ulterior motive thing I said? Is that still on your mind?"

His tone suggested that the answer he wanted to hear wasn’t an assured Yes, so Kyubin cautiously asked, "Shouldn't it be?"

"It definitely shouldn’t," Yoojung laughed with relief. "Forget all about it, it’s not relevant at all anymore."

Kyubin nodded slowly. "When did you change your mind?"

"The day after I said it."

"What?" Kyubin’s voice came out too flat to contain his shock.

"Yeah, you passed the test with flying colors." So it was a test. "Sorry, I didn’t realize you thought I still expected you to keep to that. I thought my bold flirting spoke for itself."

So the flirting wasn’t part of the test? Now, Kyubin was really confused. At last, he asked, "Can you tell me what exactly ulterior motive means to you? I have my interpretation, of course, but I’d rather know what you meant when you said it."

Yoojung pursed his lips as he thought for a moment. "I meant anything that came to your mind and was in any way deceptive. Basically, this was the most diplomatic way I could think of to tell a stranger that I don’t want to play games, I just want to get to know each other slowly. I didn’t want a guy who pretends to want something more to get me to sleep with him, and then never shows his face again. It’s happened one too many times to not make me cautious."

"Right, you said it’s been hard to meet the right people. So you were never actually testing me and my motives, you just wanted to make sure your concerns about me were false." He didn’t want to sound so bothered by it, but it was impossible not to after weeks of sexual frustration and struggling not to dwell on every thought that wasn’t pure.

Yoojung smiled apologetically. "Yeah, that was it. I really should’ve cleared this up way sooner, sorry." He walked a little closer to Kyubin’s side. "I’d like to make it up to you tonight. The classic romantic in you enjoys the idea of sex being the culmination of an official date, doesn’t he?"

Kyubin stayed silent. The light had turned green, the barrier lifted, and the shape of the shift stick felt intimately familiar in his hand. All that was left was to press down the pedal and go. Why did he suddenly feel like this was his first time behind the wheel? He’d been in other men’s beds before, he just knew more about this one man. Nothing to be nervous about.

"Kyubin?"

"Uh, I’m not sure. It’s pretty late already, so…" He couldn’t finish the excuse when his body was already getting mad at him for chickening out of the proposal.

Yoojung turned on his heel to face him, and Kyubin came to a halt. His feet stayed rooted in the spot as Yoojung’s hand came up to hold his chin firmly, giving him to choice but to look into the eyes fixed on him with determination. "I need you to tell me this clearly, because I keep getting mixed signals. Do you even want to do anything beyond what we’ve been doing, like kiss me or have sex with me? Because if you're not actually into any of it, that’s okay, it sure as hell won’t make me stop wanting to date you, so you can tell me-"

"I am," Kyubin interrupted. "I'm into- I want to, I do, I just…" He groaned with frustration as words got stuck in his throat.

"I know it’s not an easy thing to discuss, but I need you to tell me what’s going through your mind. Every time you pull back, I’m left to guess what I’ve done wrong, and I don’t want to feel so uneasy around you. I need this to be clear, please." His patient tone got more desperate by the end, and Kyubin couldn’t stand it.

"I want to go further than this," he said with as much calm as he could muster. "I want us to kiss, and I want us to have sex, I really do. I don’t know why it’s such an issue to me all of a sudden. It’s not like I haven’t done these things before." Not like this, his own inner voice said. Not with someone who could disappear with a single wrong touch. Not with someone who matters.

"But not with a man?" Yoojung guessed.

"No, I’ve been with men before, but… none of them were like you. None of them meant anything."

"Oh," Yoojung realized, "they were hookups."

"Yeah, drunken one-night stands to be precise. There was no past between us, no future, so even if it wasn’t very good, I was fine with it. That’s not how I want this, us, to be."

"Hey," Yoojung touched his cheek and waited for Kyubin to meet his eyes, "I’m not expecting the best sex ever, that’s not what this is about. Even if the first time isn’t very good, we’ll get a bunch of shots at making it better, won’t we? This is just another step of getting to know each other."

Some of the tension in Kyubin’s chest dissipated. This wasn’t the end of something familiar nor the beginning of something brand new, it was all just another step towards something they both wanted. "Yeah, you’re right. I’m just really frustrated with myself, to be honest. Sex used to be the one thing I didn’t overthink. It might’ve been because of the alcohol, but still. This should be simple, I know, and I'm sorry for making it so difficult."

"It's not your fault it feels difficult."

Even though on some level Kyubin acknowledged that to be the truth, hearing Yoojung say it with such conviction made him believe it without a shadow of a doubt. "Almost everything feels like jumping off a cliff to me," he confessed. "Whenever I want to be spontaneous and just take the leap, all I can do is stand and stare at the water below. Does that make sense?"

"A little. What stops you from making the jump?"

"I don’t know, I just- When I really want something, I start to get in my head about it. Instead of doing it, I get stuck thinking about how I’m supposed to do it, what I should and should not do, what would make it better or worse, and then the moment passes and I end up doing nothing. All I want is to make you feel good." I’m afraid I can’t went unsaid.

Yoojung’s thumb moved upwards to trace his cheekbone. "You already do. We’ll figure out together how to feel even better."

Kyubin kissed his cheek. Just closed lips pressed to soft skin, the chastest kiss he'd ever given to a man. Somehow, it didn't feel any less intimate, in a strange, unfamiliar way. He let it linger for a moment so he could stay in Yoojung's orbit and bask in his scent, and leaned away to whisper a small confession, "I like the scent of my cologne, too, but I like yours better."

"I haven’t put on any cologne."

"Then your aftershave, deodorant, laundry detergent, shampoo, whatever. I like it."

"Imagine how good I’d smell if you smeared your cologne all over me." He moved away a little, just enough to meet Kyubin’s eyes comfortably. "Don’t worry, I didn’t say it to rush you. Take all the time you need to make it feel less difficult. Maybe I could also use some time to think it over, since so much about this feels new.."

"What's new about this for you?"

Yoojung kissed Kyubin's cheek back, pressing his lips gently for a few seconds, not going beyond anything that was offered to him. "You are, you're new," his breath ghosted Kyubin's ear. "You keep me on my toes with excitement."

The suit jacket enveloped Kyubin snugly on his way back, and the kissed spot on his cheek tingled even after his face hit the pillow. When he touched it, he was certain that he could trace the shape of Yoojung's lips burned into his skin.

Notes:

I was even more dedicated than Kyubin to finding a restaurant in Seoul that would be close to my vision, but in the end I had to make up my own. Also, the illuminated paper cranes in a park are a thing I actually saw this summer during a light festival, and there was no way I would have passed up on the opportunity to sneak them into this fic.

Chapter 5: blazing flame

Notes:

I take longer and longer breaks between posting (I'm afraid it will keep happening, sorry!) but at long last, this fic earns its E rating! I put a great deal of thought and effort into this chapter, because I felt more pressured than usual to make it as good as I can. Writing a sex scene that’s candid as well as sensual was an awkward and intimidating process, but I was up for the challenge, and I’ve learnt a lot along the way. My goal was to prioritize their feelings over the details of physical actions, and I hope you enjoy it!

A small disclaimer: a panic attack happens near the end, which might be a bit difficult to read and/or give you second-hand embarrassment, so just keep in mind that it’s all fiction that some weird guy wrote on his computer.

Something had changed. Kyubin couldn’t name what it was, but he could feel it, morning till night and all throughout his restful, undisturbed dreams.

It wasn’t a change listed among side effects on the patient information leaflet, although he couldn’t entirely discard the role medicine played. It seemed that all of the changes that had happened in the recent past had culminated, and something agitated in him came to a rest, as if for his entire life there had been a caged bird living in his chest that he remained unaware of, feeling only the echo of its incessant rattling against the rails of his ribcage as a prolonged sickness. Now, the bird went to sleep, and Kyubin finally felt welcome in his own body.

That peaceful balance was disturbed when his boss asked, "How is the speech coming along?"

Kyubin blinked. "What speech?"

The stare he got in return was beyond disappointed. It was downright outraged. "The company's thirtieth anniversary is tomorrow, Mr. Shin. Don't tell me you forgot."

Seeing that the truth would not bring along good results, Kyubin bowed. "I’m sorry, I was distracted for a moment. I wrote the speech weeks ago, I just need to revise it for tomorrow."

Writing the speech wasn't a problem, Kyubin was fluent in that. He'd been asked to speak at most company events, since apparently his voice carried well in any room regardless of acoustics, but it never got easier. It was hard to focus with so many eyes on him, listening intently for any shakiness in his voice, any mumbled word that would make him seem like an amateur taking the place of someone better fitted.

He decided to indulge his caffeine addiction for one night to stay up and rehearse. It wasn’t enough to engrave every single word in his memory, no, he had to be prepared for anything - a malfunction in the sound system, a loud noise in the audience, anything that could throw him off and puncture the veneer of confidence.

He could take only so many monologues recited to blank walls before he grabbed his phone.

01:47AM – Hey. Are you up, by any chance? If not, I hope this didn’t wake you.

01:47AM – I’m up!! Wanna talk?

Kyubin’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard until he decided to simply dial Yoojung’s number.

"Can’t sleep?" Yoojung asked after picking up. He sounded tired, but significantly less so than the previous time they talked over the phone.

"I’m not sleeping by choice this time, I have stuff to prepare for work. What's your excuse for being up so late?"

"Not work, fortunately, sounds like a nightmare to deal with at this hour. My excuse is simply that I’m in tune with my body’s needs, and right now my body's telling me to tire myself out by watching a slowed down livestream of a sloth in a tree."

"Sounds riveting. Would a bedtime story be more helpful?"

"Hm, I doubt it. Knowing myself, I’d hang onto your every word like there’s gonna be a pop quiz at the end. Your voice makes me feel a lot of things, but never tired."

A smile tugged at Kyubin’s lips. The coming duties suddenly seemed not so petrifying after all. "Should I stop talking at all?"

"Don’t you dare. Talking to you feels much better than obsessively checking my email every few minutes."

"I take it BlueBlueSeoul haven't gotten back to you yet?"

"Not yet, but any day now." The sigh he released sounded shaky. "Waiting for results is always really fucking nerve-wracking, but now it feels like I actually might implode at any moment. At least before the audition I could actually create and have some power over this whole thing, but now the single most important decision of my entire life is out of my hands. I’m so fucking stressed out about this result, but also really excited, and all I want is for this waiting to end, but I also kind of don’t, cause I’d rather never know what they decided on than-" He cut himself off with a groan. "Can you distract me again? Please?"

"Yeah, of course. Would you like to hear me recite a speech about the history of the company I’m working for? It contains a painstakingly detailed biography of the founder and the first three years of struggling to maintain the business, some highlights from the journey to becoming Seoul’s top accounting firm, as well as a lot of questionably factual compliments towards the current chief."

"That sounds so much more boring than watching a sloth chew a leaf in slow motion."

Kyubin barked out a laugh. "I should probably feel offended as the author."

"Shit, it’s something you wrote? Sorry, wow, that was mean."

"It’s fine, I don’t think you’re wrong. I would be falling asleep if I didn't need to present it tomorrow evening." He glanced at the clock. "Today, actually, not tomorrow."

"What’s happening today?"

"There’s a small banquet after work. I hoped to skip out on it and visit you, but my boss had other plans."

"Ugh, that guy. But a banquet, huh?" Yoojung sounded intrigued. "Could be fun. Need a plus one?"

"I don’t think plus ones are a thing in this case, unfortunately. Maybe if you were there it would be less of a pain in the ass." He scooted to the side so he could imagine Yoojung taking up the other half of the bed, but miscalculated how far from the edge he’d been laying and tumbled down to the floor with a loud thud. "Ow, shit."

"Don't tell me you actually fell off the bed this time?" Yoojung asked with barely concealed mirth.

Massaging the aching place, Kyubin sighed resignedly. "Go on, laugh it up."

Yoojung cackled loudly. "Oh my god, I wish I was there to see the look on your face."

"It’s the face of a man whose remark about pain in the ass came back to bite him in the ass."

"Say ass one more time."

"Ass. Why?"

He could easily imagine the falsely innocent smile on Yoojung's face as he said, "I wanna make you say bad words."

"Is ass really that bad of a word?" He heaved himself off the floor and resumed his previous position, this time closer to the middle of the bed.

"Not really, but you say it like it’s super dirty. Like you feel you shouldn't be saying it, but you do it anyway."

"Really? I didn’t realize I sound like that. I was taught to be proper and well-spoken, so it still feels a little odd to go against that. I’ll try to swear more around you if you find it so enjoyable."

"Aw, I’m corrupting you. Say the dirtiest words that come to your mind, come on."

"Uh." Kyubin's mind blanked completely, so he just blurted out, "Cock. Cum. Facefucking."

"I see how it is," Yoojung drawled. "Is that where your mind’s at when you're talking to me?"

Kyubin shrugged automatically. "It’s 2AM. If not now, when can it be?"

"True. You know, I think my body is changing its tune about what I need to do to tire myself out and get some sleep." He spoke in a low, sensual way even though the wording didn't call for it, like he needed to make the implied meaning so obvious that Kyubin couldn’t even attempt to doubt it. "But I don’t wanna hang up yet, so I'm gonna hold back."

Kyubin bit the inside of his cheek, but before he could debate with himself for long enough to lose the nerve, he asked, "What else would you like to make me say?"

"Oh, you wanna play that game?"

"It's not a game. I just want to tell you things you want to hear."

There was a creaky sound on the other end, like Yoojung was changing his position, and then he said, "Tell me what you're wearing."

Those words triggered Kyubin's mind to race five steps ahead to where this could be leading, and he closed his eyes to regain his composure. "Black sweatpants."

"Anything else?"

"I've got underwear on. White, if that interests you."

"It does, thank you for the information. So no shirt?"

"No, the AC is broken. Are you- do you have a shirt on?"

"Yeah. Would you rather I didn’t?"

Kyubin pulled the spare pillow close to his chest to have something to hold onto. "I don’t think it would change much since I can’t see you."

"Hold on." A bit of shuffling on the other end, then a text alert. Kyubin opened the picture to see Yoojung laying on his bed in a gray T-shirt, untidy hair scattered in all directions on his pillow. The lighting was dim, but his exhaustion from the long day of work was visible in his slightly puffy eyes and drowsy smile.

Kyubin kept staring, hoping to find an explanation for the jolt of excitement that accompanied his first glance at the picture. Nothing about the sight was particularly stirring, and yet, the longer he looked, the harder it was to suppress a smile. It wasn’t until he closed the picture and saw how it presented itself in the chat, right beneath their previous texts and Yoojung’s name, that he realized what thrilled him had been the exclusivity of it. Despite laying in separate beds miles away, he was the one Yoojung showed this side of himself at the end of a day.

"You're awfully quiet." Yoojung pulled him out of his thoughts. "Do I look that bad?"

"No, no, far from it. You look relaxed."

"Good, I feel relaxed. Can I see what you look like?"

"Yeah, one moment." Kyubin switched on his bedside lamp and sat up, making sure the frame included his face as well as his torso. "I've been to the gym this morning," he said while sending the picture, "and this is the product."

He heard a sharp inhale on the other end. "Fucking hell, so that's you've been hiding under your clothes this whole time. You wouldn’t mind me saving this for later, would you?"

"What for?"

"To set it as your contact pic, among other things."

"I'd like to know what other things you have in mind," Kyubin pushed on boldly.

"I'm really glad you're asking." His voice sounded deeper than usual, raspier, Kyubin’s heartbeat sped up when he realized this tone was yet another thing reserved just for him. "I want to keep looking at it after we've hung up. After all, I only need one hand to hold my phone, right?"

Kyubin hoped the change in his breathing wasn't as loud and obvious as it seemed to him. "Right. Can I keep looking at yours after we've hung up?"

"I’m gonna give you something better." After a moment during which Kyubin managed to compile an exhaustive mental list of everything that might be shown to him, the text came, and he dropped the phone on his face.

There was no nudity in sight as he had prepared himself for, but the expression Yoojung captured was just as titillating, if not more. His head was tilted back, showing off his neck as if he was asking to have it kissed. His eyebrows were gently arched upwards, and beneath them, half-closed eyes looked into the camera with such visible desire that it sent a pleasant shiver through Kyubin’s body. He was used to feeling gazes like these directed at himself, but he had never felt a sense of familiarity and comfort while meeting such a gaze. He moved his attention down to the soft curve of Yoojung’s lips, parted as if letting out a gasp of someone’s name in a moment of delight, and his imagination filled in the rest.

"Pretty simple, I know," Yoojung said humbly, as if that wasn't one of the best things Kyubin had ever seen. "I have a folder with better ones for these occasions, but, I don't know, I wanted to take one that's just for you."

"Thank you," Kyubin said when he regained his ability to speak. "I should’ve tried much harder with mine."

"Getting to see you shirtless is enough for me, but hey, if you’re thinking of sending another one, I certainly won’t complain. I’d never turn down an opportunity to feast my eyes on you some more."

Kyubin felt slightly ridiculous for even entertaining the idea. Posing for pictures wasn’t his speciality, and he still shuddered with embarrassment whenever the memory of catching his own eyes in the mirror while getting a blowjob hit him. Combining the two seemed like a recipe for a disaster, but… he was tired of denying Yoojung what he wanted, especially when he sounded so eager for more. Being far away from each other made it easier to pretend he could act daringly. "I’ll try," he promised.

The fumbling that ensued as he tried to come up with how to take the photo must have made it apparent he wasn’t well-versed in this art, because soon enough Yoojung asked, "Need some advice, or am I wrong in assuming you haven’t done this before?"

"You’d be very correct," Kyubin replied as he pushed his sweatpants lower, still with zero idea of what he was trying to achieve. "Are you going to lecture me on the safety of sharing indecent photos of myself with the world?"

"Fuck no, I’d be a hypocrite if I did that. I briefly talked to this guy who kept asking me to send him photos of myself, like, really specific requests, some of them not even sexual. There was one where he just wanted a plant in the back, or something written on my hand."

"That seems a bit suspicious. Was he using you to catfish someone?"

"Probably, but I was stupid enough to not suspect anything for a while. When I did, he blocked me, and I had no other way to get to him, since his name and pictures weren't his at all."

"Shit," Kyubin winced. "I’m sorry you had to encounter the scum of the earth."

Yoojung laughed, not sounding very amused at all. "He was much nicer to talk to than some other people, funnily enough. Sorry, wow, I’m killing the mood instead of being your sexy guru. Whatever you send me is safe with me, obviously, but as a general tip I’d advise against including your face in the riskier ones."

That finally gave Kyubin an idea. He pushed his sweatpants all the way off and sat with his legs spread, pointing the camera at his crotch. His thighs and abdomen were included in the frame, but the final result looked too plain for his liking. Holding onto the streak of courage, he palmed himself a few times to make his cock strain against the material, and then slipped his thumb under the waistband at his hip to expose a little more skin for added effect.

Immediately after clicking Send he pressed the phone back to his ear in order not to miss the reaction, and tensed when the text alert chimed on the other end. The sound that followed was something between a gasp and a held back moan, and adding that to Yoojung’s face from the picture made Kyubin slightly lightheaded. "What are your thoughts?" he asked.

"No thoughts, Kyubin, oh my god. My eyes have been blessed, this is gonna be the only thing on my mind for weeks."

Kyubin chuckled nervously, feeling the unfamiliarity of the situation slowly creep up on him. "That sounds hard to handle. Are you- are we hanging up now, or…?

"We can, but we don’t have to." Take this further if you dare hung in the silence after he finished speaking.

"So, just to clarify, you’d like to stay on the phone with me as you touch yourself? And I'd do the same?"

"I think it could be really fun, but I’m gonna let you decide what you’d rather do since I don’t know what you’re comfortable with."

"Not much," Kyubin told him frankly. He could have refused right away, hung up and relaxed in the company of his hand without any added stress that would undoubtedly come with agreeing. There was another thing that agreeing offered, though – he could acquaint himself with this side of Yoojung without engaging all of his senses at once. He was being offered a rare opportunity to ease himself into intimacy, and if he passed up on it, he might never forgive himself. "I guess I’m slightly more curious than uncomfortable right now," he concluded.

"Great, then let’s relax and satisfy our curiosities. Hold on just a moment."

Kyubin heard the slide of a drawer being pulled, and the images that popped into his head made him grip the spare pillow tightly with his free hand. "Are you going to use a toy?"

"No, I’m just grabbing lube. Not to finger myself, if that’s where your mind went, I just prefer to have my hand and dick properly lubed up."

"Does that feel better?"

"I think it gives the feeling a huge upgrade, yeah. You’ve never tried it?"

"No. I guess I never felt the need to. I did use my spit a few times, but that was it."

Yoojung groaned softly. "That’s another image I’ll never be able to get out of my mind, thank you."

"You’re welcome." As he listened to the sounds of Yoojung preparing his own fun, he quickly discarded his briefs and attempted to relax by reminding himself how much of this was familiar. A familiar bed, a familiar ceiling, a familiar way to unwind before sleep. Even Yoojung was familiar, and what of him wasn't was worth the effort to get through to.

"Okay, I’ve got your picture opened. Ready?"

Yoojung’s blissed out face stared back at Kyubin from the screen. As much as I’ll ever be, he thought. "I’m ready. But, wait, before we start… How is this normally done? Should we be describing everything we do, or tell each other what we would do if we were in the same room, or do we say nothing at all?"

"We don’t have to do this in any specific way." He sounded laid-back in a way Kyubin didn’t realize was possible in this kind of situation. "Let’s just take it easy, yeah? We’ll start by touching ourselves how we like best, and we’ll see where things go from there. Do what you always do, and imagine that I'm the one who’s actually touching you. Or not, but, you know. I want you to imagine that it’s me."

"I will," Kyubin promised and turned up the volume in hope of drowning out the loudest of unhelpful thoughts. The application of lube amplified every sound, helping Kyubin envision each movement of Yoojung's hand as easily as if they were in the same room. While Yoojung himself wasn’t necessarily vocal, he had no shame about allowing small, satisfied sounds to slip out, loud enough to reach Kyubin’s ears and encourage him to be more nonchalant.

His eyes locked with Yoojung’s picture, and he attempted to distort his memories of encounters with other people to include every detail of Yoojung’s touch and scent he could recall. Yoojung’s hands grabbing his hips and pushing them flush against each other; Yoojung’s eyes looking up at him as he kneeled on a tiled floor; Yoojung’s gasps caused not by his own hand, but by how Kyubin moved his hips.

Each of these fleeting images did its job of turning him on more and more, but none of them captured that indefinable something that was unique to Yoojung. What he felt with those people was a pull between bodies, their touch and words devoid of emotional investment. None of them ever looked at him like Yoojung had, with affection. Any warmth he ever felt from them was mere wishful thinking that ended with a sinking feeling in his stomach when he woke up alone.

He tried to replay the fantasy about Yoojung that his mind created a few days before, but it also lacked that distinct quality. He couldn’t reconcile the seductive stares thrown at the camera with this expression of subtle delight captured for Kyubin’s eyes alone. The longer he stared at the photo, the hotter he found it, and a new type of urgency began stirring inside him. He'd felt hints of it before in passing, but now, it had overwhelmed everything else. He didn’t understand much about this kind of desiring, but he didn't need to understand it to know exactly what he needed.

His eyelids fell shut, and the hand holding up his phone left it to rest on the pillow as it joined the fun below. The picture stood before his eyes in blurry detail, but so much more alive than before. In his mind's eye, it wasn't an immovable still, but a breathing, responsive human being, reaching for him, chasing his lips with his own and meeting his eyes between kisses, smiling as he brought him closer to the climax slowly, savoring each sensation, saying through every touch and every sound, You're the only one I want. There was something so inexplicably gentle in how Kyubin wanted to hold him in that moment, how he wanted his whole body to feel the whole of Yoojung, no part more important or more deserving of touch and attention.

"How you doing over there?" Yoojung checked in. "Feeling good?"

"Yeah, I’m good." Without opening his eyes, he faced the phone resting next to his head, a gesture he imagined Yoojung mirroring as if they were laying side by side. "What about you?"

"Really good. Can I ask what you’re thinking about?"

Kyubin smiled, hoping that by some odd luck Yoojung would sense it. "I’m thinking about you. That I’d like to be where you are."

"I’d like to have you here, too. Wanna know what I’d do to you if you were with me right now?"

Kyubin took a deep breath to brace himself. "Tell me."

"First of all, I’d kiss you. I'd kiss you so hard you'd have no choice but to stop thinking and get drunk on everything I'd make you feel. Then I’d kiss all of your gorgeous muscles. Mark my words, I’m gonna put my mouth on everything there is to put my mouth on. I’d take my time kissing your cock through your underwear, just to make you squirm a little. I wouldn’t take you into my mouth right away, either. You wouldn’t mind me taking my time, would you? I wanna be really slow with you."

Kyubin stilled his hand for a moment to regain his composure. "Being slow with you sounds great." When Yoojung didn't reply, he realized this was his time to return the favor by describing what he’d like to do to him. Everything that came to his mind made him bite his tongue harder and harder. The concept of dirty talk wasn’t foreign to him, but other people always sounded much more fluent in it, and he didn’t want to derail the whole thing by saying something incredibly unsexy.

"Can you tell me more about what you’re thinking?" Yoojung asked when the silence went on for a little too long, his sentences punctuated with gasps. "Please?"

Kyubin willed his voice to sound assured despite feeling anything but. "I’m imagining what you just told me. I thought about it the other way as well, before. Thought about my mouth on you, I mean. Going down on you." He winced as he finished speaking. Awkwardly phrased, not specific enough. The low hum he received in response at least reassured him that it sounded much better to Yoojung’s ears than his own.

"I’ve thought about that, too. I just generally think about your mouth a lot, and all the things it could do to me. How would you do it?"

The first word that came to Kyubin’s mind was poorly. "I’d ask you how you like it. Whatever you’d ask of me, I’d do my best."

Yoojung groaned, his voice down by an octave from his normal speaking voice at that point. "Fuck, how do you make selflessness sound like the hottest trait ever? I wouldn’t ask for much, you know. Having your lips anywhere near me would be a good start."

"I really want to kiss you," Kyubin said more desperately than he intended. "Anywhere, everywhere. Mostly on your lips."

"Do it when we meet. Do it anytime you like. I need you to do it, please."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will." His hand involuntarily started to speed up, matching the amazing and filthy sounds of how fast Yoojung was going. Part of him wanted to drag this out for much longer, but the impulse to share what Yoojung was feeling at that moment won.

"Tell me more," Yoojung requested. "Whatever you want, anything. I’m so close, I just wanna hear you."

At that point, second-guessing his every word was less of a priority than having some contribution in making Yoojung cum, so he spoke a simple truth. "I want to find out what effect dancing had on your body. Which of your muscles are visible and which ones I could find only when I touch you. I want to know how you smell right now, and how your sheets smell. I want your scent on my pillow when- when I fall asleep and when I wake up." He pressed his mouth to his shoulder to stifle the sounds trying to tear themselves out of him as he came. He kept still for a moment to listen to all the sounds coming from Yoojung as he got closer, and then confessed, "I want you to look at me as you cum. I want to make you cum."

Everything went quiet for a moment, and then Yoojung exhaled deeply. "You did it. You did great. Fuck, thank you for this. I’d cuddle you thoroughly now if you were here."

"That would be nice."

"Do you prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon?"

"Big, I think."

"Shit, me too. We’d cuddle front to front, then."

Kyubin reached for the spare pillow before he could even think about grabbing tissues. The sheets were overdue for a visit to the laundry, anyway.

He laid on his side and cuddled the pillow to his chest. If he had Yoojung there, he would kiss his face all over, listen to his breath even out and keep him in his arms until morning. This vision only made the silence in his room louder. Having to imagine the warmth that would spread all over his body when in actuality all that filled his arms was an encased bunch of feathers, too cold and too pliant to resemble a person, made him feel uncomfortably empty.

"Can you promise me something?" he asked before he could do something silly and anticlimactic, like cry. "Don’t let me turn you down again."

"I promise I’ll encourage you the best I can. Will that be enough?"

"I hope so." He pressed his face into the pillow, but simply imagining it smelled of Yoojung wasn’t enough to fill the emptiness. He needed Yoojung close, closer than ever before. "I really hope so."

His phone went off again when he started dozing off. This time, the picture he received was of Yoojung's cheek pressed to his pillow, eyes closed, face half-covered by messy strands of hair. Kyubin kept it open so it would be the first thing his eyes would rest on after his alarm finished ringing.

10:23AM – So
10:23AM – ~hypothetically~
10:23AM – Between cherry, raspberry and watermelon, which do you like best?

01:17PM – I hope I’m not answering too late, I waited for lunch break to check my phone. If this is about cupcakes, I have to say I can’t imagine how watermelon ones would taste, so maybe cherry to be safe?

01:18PM – Forget about cupcakes, just choose which taste you like best

01:18PM – Still cherry, I guess.
01:18PM – Can I or can I not look forward to another tasty surprise?

01:18PM – As I said, it was just a hypothetical question
01:19PM – But yes
01:19PM – Look forward to it x

Although talking to Yoojung alleviated Kyubin’s nerves, they reappeared with full force once he stepped into the decorated hall. The loud chatter and carefree laughter of everyone he usually saw hunched over keyboards and papers only heightened the feeling of misplacement. Nervously, he straightened his suit and fixed his tie, this goddamn tie that he decided he would only wear for events like these, and now the mere sensation of it under his fingertips caused a surge of anxiety.

His eyes scoured the crowd in search of a friendly face, and he felt relieved when Wookjin waved him over.

"Hi," Kyubin greeted as he accepted the wine glass handed to him. "Is Yongsoo around?"

"No, he had to go help out his grandmother or something. Tell me, is giving speeches in your contract or something? Cause I keep volunteering for public speaking gigs anytime the opportunity comes up, but I always hear it’s your job. It happened with the conference in May, and it happened now. You’re good at it, but man, would you leave some for the rest of us?"

Gladly, Kyubin thought and poured some of the drink down his throat. Not wine, just pretending to be. Great. "I didn’t sign off on this at any point, but it became an unspoken duty of sorts. It means less unpaid work for everyone else, so I don’t mind. It’s not a big deal to me."

Wookjin gave him a skeptical once-over. "Are you sure it’s not? You looked like you were gonna faint before stepping on stage at the conference, and now you look a little… sweaty."

Kyubin self-consciously adjusted his shirt so the material didn’t stick to his armpits, though it didn’t help matters much. "But I looked normal while I was presenting, right?"

"Respectfully, that’s not my fucking point. If you feel like our boss has a personal vendetta against you, you should take it up with HR."

"Oh, no, it’s definitely not that severe. Truthfully, I’m complacent. I can never say no to his face."

Wookjin nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, even I’m intimidated by him sometimes. I wanted to push harder to get the gig, but even getting promoted doesn’t make bargaining with him any easier."

Kyubin took out the creased pages from his back pocket. "Would you like to read out what I’ve written? Because I’d happily sit this one out."

"If it does come down to it, I’ve got my own speech memorized."

Kyubin blinked at him. "You just got promoted and you still had enough time to not only write a speech but learn it by heart? And you maintain a social life?"

"Okay, maybe Jisung wrote the actual speech for me, but that's because he’s been in the company longer. He actually worked really hard on it, I think he’s more disappointed by how things turned out than I am. Anyway, it's all about balance, I'm just good at managing my time."

And that's why you're made for this and I'm not was something Kyubin knew better than to voice.

Jisung turned away from the group of people he’d been talking to. "I heard my name. Have I finally become the center of office gossip?"

"Wookjin told me about the speech you wrote," Kyubin explained. "I’m sorry for taking the opportunity away from you."

"Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even set out to write it, it just happened one evening. I must have missed writing assignments from my school days." He draped himself over Wookjin's shoulder. "You just can't stop bringing me up in conversations with other people. What’s that about?"

Wookjin gave him a fake smile. "That’s what happens when you share your entire life with someone, sweetheart."

Jisung rolled his eyes, but there was noticeable affection in the gesture that made Kyubin hesitate between sticking to the pair all night and excusing himself to give them privacy. He ended up picking the latter to look for a corner where no person managed to insert themselves yet. He found a secluded spot under the staircase where he leaned back against the wall and unfastened the top button of his shirt to make breathing easier. The page in his hand had its edges torn from all the fiddling and sweat on his fingers, but even though he could recite its contents in his sleep, he still kept scanning every word like his life depended on it.

"Hey," came a whisper right next to his ear and he almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of Yoojung at his shoulder.

"How- what are you doing here?"

Yoojung shrugged innocently. "They needed one more waiter, so technically, I’m working. And by working I mean I can sneak out with you anytime, cause the pay is worth fuck all. Also, I was curious what your office looks like, and, damn, this building is huge."

Something seemed different about him. He was wearing a crisp, white shirt and black dress pants, an unusually elegant sight on its own, but his face seemed different, too. His lips looked more glossy, and his eyes were lined with light shades of brown and specs of gold glitter, making his gaze even more intense than usual. "You're wearing makeup," Kyubin realized.

"Just a little. Do you like it?"

"I do, you look amazing." The nervous flutter brought on by how earnestly he said it was more welcome than the one already brewing in his stomach.

"So do you," Yoojung eyed him up and down shamelessly. "You pull off dark colors really well. I still think the hottest you’ve ever looked was in that burgundy suit, but this dark green is a very close second. Are you hiding away from people clamoring to ask you out?"

"That would be preferable, to be honest. There’s a certain limit of attention put on me I can stand, and events like these go way above that limit." He recognized that he was getting close to that point where it became harder to breathe without paying it any attention, and he forced his lungs to stay aware of how much air they needed while doing his best to provide. He fanned himself with the page and pressed his back closer to the cold wall, as if that would make the amplifying tension inside him go away. When that didn't help, he pushed the tie over his head and stuffed it into the blazer pocket. "I’m sorry, I took a step back in my reframing. I should’ve stood up to my boss and told him I don’t want to do this anymore, but he caught me off guard, so I automatically agreed."

"Don't apologize to me, you're doing this for yourself." He squeezed Kyubin’s shoulder gently. "You can still reframe the situation now, can’t you?"

"Once I present what I’ve written, we can get the hell out of here. I’m not gonna stay for any fake wine and socializing, that’s for sure."

Yoojung took him in carefully. "If it’s stressing you out so much you can barely catch a breath, let’s just leave right now. You won’t get fired for not telling a few boring facts to people who’d also rather be spending the evening somewhere else. And hey, if you do get fired, there are plenty of other jobs out there to try out."

Kyubin shook his head and laughed helplessly. "You make it sound so easy. You make everything sound easy."

"Because most things are, as long as you don't think about them too hard."

"Thinking too hard is exactly what I do, unfortunately."

"Not always," Yoojung pointed out. "You didn’t think too hard last night. At least not so hard that it stopped you."

"That’s different. Very different." He stepped out of the corner to gauge what the situation was. The crowd was still chattering, his boss nowhere to be seen, so he still had time to scour the page with his eyes while wishing he could suddenly develop a photographic memory.

Yoojung's arms sneaked around his waist. His palms pressed flat against his abdomen and his chin rested on his shoulder as he whispered, "Wouldn’t you rather be alone with me right now? Far away from this farce?"

Kyubin swallowed, though the tightness in his throat made it difficult. "You know I would."

"Then say fuck it and let's get out of here."

His chest pressed firmly against Kyubin's back, and the sensation of its slow rise and fall as he breathed deeply permeated Kyubin's system. Their breathing synced, the jittering in Kyubin’s stomach ceased, and the rush of anxious thoughts quieted. He waited for the nervousness to hit him with full force again, but seconds passed, and all he felt was the steady ground beneath his feet.

He turned his head to meet Yoojung's eyes, watching him carefully. "Fuck it. Wait here, okay?"

Thankfully Wookjin was loud enough that spotting him in the crowd was easy. "Hey, do you want to present your- I mean, your and Jisung’s speech? Instead of me presenting mine, of course?"

Wookjin raised his eyebrows. "Well, duh. You really want to do this?"

"I think so. If someone asks about me, say I got stomach poisoning or something."

"Sure thing." He clasped Kyubin’s shoulder. "Thanks for this, I owe you one. I can’t wait to see Jisung’s face when he sees me up there. If we ever end up going out for those drinks, I’m paying."

Kyubin managed to sneak back past the crowd unnoticed and gestured for Yoojung to follow him up the stairs.

"Isn't the door the other way?" Yoojung asked even though he’d already begun walking where Kyubin led.

"I want to show you something upstairs."

The second they rounded the first set of stairs and were out of anybody’s potential eyeshot, Yoojung grabbed his hand and bolted forward, taking two steps at a time. An immediate rush of energy pushed Kyubin to overtake him, and though it meant losing the pleasantly firm grip of Yoojung’s hand, he needed to burn away all the tension left in his body. Quickened breathing and hammering heartbeat caused by physical exertion were a different thing entirely, exhilarating and invigorating.

When he was eight floors up, Yoojung yelled from below, "Stop, stop, wait for me." Kyubin jogged down to find him leaning against the wall to catch his breath. The redness of his cheeks combined with the shimmers around his eyes created a sight so mesmerizing that Kyubin almost missed the question directed at himself, "How far up are you taking me?"

"The top floor."

Yoojung hit him on the shoulder. "You couldn't have said that earlier?! We should’ve just taken the elevator. Although it does look like that run did you some good."

"I think this might be the most energetic I’ve ever felt while on these stairs. Walking up to my desk has been my sole daily workout for months, so it feels odd to suddenly feel like I could run up and down the whole building five times."

"What floor do you work on?"

"Sixth."

Yoojung smirked and turned on his heel. "No way I’m gonna miss the opportunity to see where you spend your whole days."

The whole sixth floor was dark, but there was enough light coming from the street to make out the shapes and angles of walls and furniture. Kyubin experienced navigating this space in the dark numerous times when the janitor failed to notice him at his desk and turned off all the lights. If a night shift had been an option, Kyubin would have picked it in a heartbeat. The office was more welcoming like this, calm and quiet, devoid of all the daytime rush and reminders of heavy responsibility.

"This is my desk," he gestured awkwardly, feeling a little on edge at having Yoojung in the space he practically lived in for a good portion of the past few years. It was a strange collision of two worlds he assumed he'd keep apart for life.

Yoojung scanned the room with his eyes. "It looks like every other desk has got some trinkets or photos, only yours doesn’t."

"Do I seem like a trinket kind of guy to you?"

"No, but you seem sentimental enough to put up a picture as a reminder of something nice."

Kyubin raised his chin. "Maybe I'll put up one of the pictures you sent me."

"You could, sure." Yoojung leaned back against the desk, the dull gray of their surroundings taking on radiant hues in his presence. "And what if your colleagues get curious and start asking questions?"

"I would tell them it's a reminder of something nice. They've got no right to dig further, right?"

"Hell yeah," Yoojung said a little too loudly and clasped his hand over his mouth when Kyubin shushed him. "Sorry," he whispered as both of them listened for any rustle that would betray a presence nearby.

"I think we’re safe," Kyubin said. "I’d rather nobody showed up to drag me back, because I don’t know if I’d have enough willpower to refuse."

"Do you regret running away?"

"No, not at all, I feel really fucking relieved right now." Being able to say a swear word in that room only made the relief stronger. "I might regret it slightly when my boss gets furious, but right now, I don’t care. Thank you for this."

Yoojung shrugged humbly. "You keep showing up for me when I need a distraction from stressing out, so this is the least I could do."

"Look at us, increasing each other’s life expectancy," Kyubin said lightheartedly. "Come on, let's go before someone finds us here."

He hoped the balcony door wouldn't be locked yet, although even if it were, he knew exactly who to ask for the key. Fortunately, the door gave in and the sound of the city below surrounded them.

Yoojung ran up to the edge and looked down. "Damn, this might be the highest place I've ever been in Seoul. Do you come up here a lot?"

"I do, mostly after the sun sets, when everything feels more peaceful. I don't know why, but being in high places after dark helps me feel like I belong in this city in a way that being among people never has. I somehow end up feeling separate from everyone down there, but here, I don't." He took a quick glance at Yoojung and realized he was being analyzed. "Please don't read into that, I'm just saying stuff."

Yoojung didn’t move his discerning eyes away. "It’s hard to justify why you feel alone when you’ve got so many people around you, isn’t it? Up here, loneliness makes sense."

Kyubin gripped the railing tightly, feeling strangely overwhelmed all of a sudden. "Yeah, it does." The casual air with which Yoojung stated something so profound prompted him to ask, "Do you sometimes feel lonely when you perform?"

Yoojung seemed taken aback by the question, but then he nodded. "When it’s clear to me that nobody cares to engage with it, yeah."

"When people stare at their phones or just don't pay attention?"

"That does suck, but there are worse cases. How do I explain this to you? Basically, I try to make every performance mine, in a way. Even if I'm dancing in the background to someone else's choreo, I'm contributing to the whole picture and adding something uniquely my own. When I look at the audience and see them paying attention, but all they show are blank, emotionless faces, it feels like I’m trying hard for nothing and nobody. But on the flipside, when I see a complete stranger feeling genuinely affected, it’s like an unbreakable connection forms in that moment, and I really need that. I’d be pretty miserable without it." He let out a short laugh. "Don't read into that, I’m just saying stuff."

But Kyubin wasn't in the mood to give up easily. "You said before that it doesn’t matter to you if the audience understands what you’re trying to express. So all you need is for them to engage with it emotionally, even if what they feel is the complete opposite of what you intended?"

"I have no control over what people take away from it, no matter what my intention would be." That didn’t sound like a yes to Kyubin, and Yoojung confirmed as much when he sighed resignedly. "I know what you’re trying to get me to say, and I'm not gonna pretend you're wrong. It would be really rewarding if someone got everything I was trying to say. Maybe someone did, who knows, I don't get much feedback. The point is, this stuff is personal to me, and the only way it can be personal to someone else is if they connect their experience and emotions to it. I don't want strangers to try to understand me, I want them to care enough about the stuff I make to try and understand their own reaction to it."

"I can see why you wouldn’t want strangers to understand the true meaning, but… how about someone who isn’t a stranger?"

Yoojung looked as if he took a bite of something bitter and was trying to pretend it tasted sweet. "Don’t you like your men a little mysterious?"

"Would I be here if I didn’t?" Kyubin countered. "I just think some mysteries are too enticing not to solve them."

"I don’t know about that." His voice sounded emotionless in a way Kyubin hoped to never hear again. "Mysteries are fun as long as they’re unsolved, then they lose their charm. Whatever you’re imagining is way more interesting than the truth."

Despite how warm the night was, Kyubin felt a chill over his body. "Is asking you about this insensitive on my part? I’m sorry, really, I didn’t realize it’s an upsetting topic for you."

"It’s not upsetting, it’s just…" He searched for the right word a little too long for Kyubin not to assume the right one had already been said. "It’s complicated. And right now, being with you feels like the easiest thing in the world."

"I know what you mean. I’ll stop pestering you about things you don’t want to talk about, I promise."

For some reason, Yoojung didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. "Wouldn’t that make you the only one out of the two of us who has to make an effort, though? I mean, our whole relationship has been basically about me getting you to do stuff that’s outside your comfort zone while staying safely cooped up inside my own. It feels weird when you let me off the hook so easily."

Kyubin shrugged. "Just because I feel like I can say anything to you doesn’t mean you have to feel the same."

"Do you not hear how unfair that is?" Yoojung asked incredulously. "Or do you genuinely not care?"

"I don't think it’s unfair. I think you know what works for you, and I’m in the process of getting there. Our situations are clearly very different, so there’s no use in comparing, that’s all."

Yoojung seemed to search for further arguments, but eventually relented. "You’re basically just agreeing with me, but honestly, I don't know if you should. I feel like we’re way too imbalanced right now, and it’s annoying. I wanna be able to meet all your needs."

Kyubin put his hand on Yoojung’s. "If you met even one more of my needs, I’d probably explode." When the hint of a frown didn’t disappear from Yoojung’s face, he added, "You do realize we met a month ago, right? And you know me better than my friend does, or my colleagues, or even the people who have known me my whole life. I think it’s safe to say I’m the odd one here, not you."

Yoojung took the offered hand in both of his. "I need you to stop calling yourself odd, because you’re by far the most normal person I’ve met in this city."

Kyubin raised both eyebrows. "Your friends must be proper freaks, then."

Yoojung laughed. "Oh, you have no idea. Actually, you do, cause you saw our blowjob choreography. Their reactions were really enthusiastic when me and Sungho presented the idea, even the straight guys, everyone was super chill about it. Did I tell you that we performed that one in public once, while busking? Uncensored?"

"No way, how was it received?"

"Surprisingly well. It was my first time performing for a crowd, so I was really nervous. Someone gave me a piece of advice to avoid looking at people's faces so I don't get distracted, but I did take an accidental look near the end, and it was… fucking electric. I’ve never seen people be this impressed with anything I did. I mean, it’s not like the other dancers didn’t support me, but to impress a bunch of strangers is a completely different feeling."

Kyubin looked down at their hands to say, "Well, if you performed the same way as you did in the version you filmed, they had no choice but to be impressed."

"Somehow, I doubt they were impressed in the same way as you. The way I moved my body sent your mind into the gutter, didn’t it?"

"Why would you think that?" He hoped he sounded inconspicuous enough that Yoojung would ignore how sweaty his hands got.

"Oh, come on, it was written all over your face when I asked about it. You got red and couldn’t look me in the eyes. Just like right now." His teasing tone made Kyubin want to prove him wrong, so he fixed his gaze on him defiantly. All humor was absent from Yoojung’s voice when he added, "I told you I like getting honest feedback, didn’t I?"

Kyubin pushed away the impulse to break their eye contact as he confessed, "I enjoyed how you moved, yes. I also really enjoyed the looks you gave to the camera."

Instantly, everything about Yoojung’s expression took on a sharper edge. His eyes narrowed, one corner of his lips went up in a sly half-smile, and he shamelessly licked his lips as his gaze slid down Kyubin’s body. In a breathy voice, he asked, "Yeah? Is that the kind of look you had in mind?"

Kyubin swallowed hard. "That kind. But, uh, I also appreciated the artism of the dance. Artism? That’s not a word. Artistic value, that’s what I meant."

The tension burst with Yoojung’s laugh. "Relax, this isn’t an interrogation. I enjoy making you blush too much to pass up an opportunity."

"I’m not blushing," Kyubin argued, delighted by the knowledge that he had the power to bring out the horny and carefree sides of Yoojung in such quick succession. "This is just what healthy blood circulation looks like."

Yoojung gave him a pleading look. "You can’t keep handing me perfect opportunities to make a dirty joke and expect me not to take them. I’m a weak, weak man."

"You can make all the dirty jokes that come to your mind," Kyubin assured. "Don’t hold anything back."

"Are you sure? Cause sometimes you seem genuinely flustered when I tease you, and I worry that you hate it when I do it."

"No, I don’t mind you making me flustered. It’s actually quite an enjoyable way of being pushed out of my comfort zone."

"You just keep pushing yourself out of your comfort zone these past twenty four hours, don’t you? Honestly, I’m impressed. You seem hell-bent on making progress as quickly as possible."

Kyubin felt his smile falter. "I have to make up for lost time. I always felt some envy toward my peers when they neglected their responsibilities without a care, even if it got them in trouble, especially in school and uni. There is a whole list of things I wish I’d joined them for back then, and I’m glad to finally cross this one thing off."

"What are the other things on the list?" Yoojung rested his elbow on the railing and propped his chin up on his fist. "I could help you cross off a few more."

"Some of them are long past their expiration date, like getting drunk while underage or sneaking into a club with a fake ID. The rest are equally silly, but I think that’s the point. I’ve never had a rebellious phase, never played hooky, never been disruptive during class, never sneaked a candy bar into my pocket in a grocery store, never risked getting outed by confessing to someone I liked. I should’ve made some dumb mistakes, just like anyone else. Maybe these would've been bad decisions, but they would've been my decisions."

Yoojung shifted his gaze down to the street. "We're even more similar than I thought."

"How so?"

"We’ve missed out on feeling young, so we’re catching up as adults." His voice was quiet and tense, and Kyubin almost jumped out of his skin at the ear-splitting scream Yoojung released into the night. Just as suddenly as it began, the scream got interrupted by giggles. "I gave you a scare, didn’t I? Sorry. I saw this in a movie years ago, and I’ve been curious what it feels like to yell off a high building."

"And how does it feel?"

Yoojung inhaled deeply and looked at the views around them. "Feels like the whole world belongs to me, and I belong to the whole world. Okay, maybe not the whole world, but this city at least. You should give it a try."

Kyubin gripped the railing and looked at the street below. Even though he knew that the sound wouldn't carry all the way down into the noise, he still froze up. But yelling off a high building wasn’t a big deal. It was momentarily embarrassing, but ultimately inconsequential, and doing it wouldn't change anything except for making him feel like he could overcome the fear. He gathered air in his lungs, and let go.

For an unconfined measure of time, it felt like nothing existed but his voice, and in it, something wild had unleashed. He sounded alien to his own ears, loud and resonant. Once he started running out of air and the outside noise grew in volume again, he understood Yoojung's need to laugh it off. The feeling of liberation in his chest was way too grand for an action so small.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"It really does."

"You ready to conquer the universe now?"

"Almost. I think we better start with the city and make our way up from there."

Yoojung turned on his heel and laid down on the balcony floor. Kyubin joined him, wincing as the rough surface pressed into his palms, and looked at the unicolor dark ceiling with the moon as the singular source of light. Even with the uncomfortably hard ground and no stars in sight, it felt nice to get a different perspective on the place he liked to watch the world from. No buildings, no people, just comforting darkness.

"Fuck light pollution," Yoojung vocalized their shared grievance. "I forgot about it for a second there. I thought we’d get to look at the stars, guess the constellations, make up our own."

"If the stars were visible, I’d get to check another thing off my list. Laying under the stars with someone special."

"I mean, it's not like the stars aren't there at all. They are, we just can’t see them."

"That’s true." He closed his eyes, just to confirm that the things he could or couldn’t see had no real impact on how special the moment felt. When he opened his eyes and looked over at Yoojung, he found he was already being observed. "I don’t think what’s up there matters at all, what’s visible or not. Laying here with you makes me feel like the sky is full of stars."

Yoojung’s gaze scanned his face intently, lingering on his lips. "I may not have a list of my own, but if I did, kissing you would be at the very top of it. I have it on good authority you’d also like to make it happen."

It should've felt like the easiest thing in the world to close the distance, lean over him under the cover of darkness and finally taste him. Just like with everything that should have felt easy, the very thought of acting on it made Kyubin freeze up. How much easier would this be if there was actual wine in those glasses, he thought bitterly. Was there really no other way to silence all the self-conscious worries and allow desire to guide his body? Perhaps not. Maybe unless he got so drunk that his thoughts couldn’t catch up with the rest of him, he would never find out what it’s like to be truly free.

"Do you think you’re a bad kisser?" Yoojung pressed on quietly. "Because I don't want it to be perfect. I just want you to give me a chance to find out."

"I don’t think I’m bad at it. Other people seemed to enjoy it as much as I did." He rolled onto his side and pressed his forehead to Yoojung's shoulder, the soft material and delicate scent balancing the rough texture digging into the skin of his cheek, sure to leave marks. "I think I’m just worried that I kept you waiting for so long only for you to find it disappointing."

"You’re underestimating how hard it is to disappoint me."

"Is that a challenge?" Kyubin asked more bitterly than he intended. "Sorry. I shouldn't be ruining the mood any further with self-deprecation."

"Look at me." Yoojung touched his chin and guided his face up so they were at the same eye level, his expression gentle and unguarded. The moonlight illuminating him created an impression of silver flames forming a halo around his head. He looked otherworldly, untouchable, like one kiss would be enough for him to disappear off the face of the planet. "I’m not worried about anything. Being close to you never feels disappointing."

A single finger brushed against Kyubin’s hand. He risked a glance at Yoojung's lips which parted under his attention, and suddenly, he was unable to shift his gaze away, transfixed by their proximity. When he finally dared to look up, he saw a reflection of his own hunger in Yoojung's eyes. I'm not untouchable, he seemed to say. I don't want to be untouchable.

An unspoken dare was placed on him as Yoojung remained unmoving, only his fingers tracing patterns on the sensitive parts of Kyubin's palm and sending shivers up his arm. With every passing second, the empty space between them became more and more suffocating, and Kyubin wanted to breathe. Lips were no longer just lips, they were his only source of oxygen in the entire world. He closed the distance.

For a moment, there was only softness, warm and inviting, and a handful of restless thoughts in the back of his mind telling him he couldn’t do this well enough. Then Yoojung made a quiet, impatient sound and pressed closer, silencing all the worries when he parted Kyubin’s lips with his own and left an artificial taste of cherry on the tip of Kyubin’s tongue. His hand came up to the back of Kyubin's head as if to command him to stay in place, and that was enough for Kyubin's impulses to ignite.

He seized the moment Yoojung was tilting his head the other way to cup his cheek, shielding it from the rugged concrete, and captured his lips with firmness that made Yoojung sigh quietly. He felt Yoojung’s fingers tangle in his hair as his other hand found its way under Kyubin’s cheek, the same hand which coaxed Kyubin into the kiss with its gentle and patient caresses. There was nothing stopping Kyubin from deepening the kiss, so he did, reveling in the immediate receptiveness with which Yoojung met him. Suddenly, it wasn’t just Yoojung’s hand supporting his head, but his arm as he enveloped Kyubin and held him closer. As if there was any chance Kyubin would move away anytime soon, when Yoojung’s lip gloss was quickly becoming the only thing both of them could taste.

He was so much more aware of Yoojung’s body than his own; of the breaths he took, of any sound he didn’t care to hold back, of the warmth emanating from him and the softness of the shirt he was wearing. Whenever he opened his eyes for a split second, he saw familiar features he’d looked at countless times before, and each avid kiss allowed his excitement to unfold and overtake any remaining trace of hesitation left, because this was someone he knew. This was Yoojung, precious and wanting, and just as impatient to have them be closer than ever before.

He wasn’t sure when he became so bold, all he knew was that his hand found its way to the small of Yoojung’s back, under his shirt, and in one effortless motion he pulled him closer to eliminate any unnecessary distance between their bodies. None of this was enough. There was a need stirring deep inside him, a need to satisfy and be satisfied in turn, and restraint was something he momentarily forgot the existence of. His hand slid further up under Yoojung’s shirt, he sucked on Yoojung's lip, his head swam each time he inhaled the overwhelmingly alluring scent that made his heartbeat stumble whenever Yoojung stepped too close, and his hips chased the pressure provided by Yoojung's body, so close, finally up against him, finally his.

The rush subsided a little when Yoojung pressed a closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his lips and put some space between their bodies, thumb caressing Kyubin's cheek gently as if to calm him down.

Kyubin moved away to catch a breath, but the sight before him made it difficult to breathe at all. Yoojung's lips were red and glistening, parted to catch air, and even the night couldn't hide how obvious it was that he wanted, needed more. Kyubin almost surged forward again, but the hand on his chest was firm.

"We should go somewhere else," Yoojung whispered.

A gust of wind swept over Kyubin's skin and the loud traffic beneath hit his eardrums, shaking him out of the daze. "Right, that's... that’s probably a good idea." He rolled onto his back and tried to reconcile the difference between the temperature of his body and his surroundings.

Yoojung breathed in a lungful of air before sitting up. "So, um. There's vodka at my place. Your taste is probably way more refined than that, but I didn't wanna buy something expensive just to find out you don’t actually like it at all."

"Oh. Uh…" Kyubin tried to get his mind to work normally, but everything about the situation was proving it to be impossible. "But you don’t drink."

"Yeah, I bought it today in hope of having you over. You know, in case you need a few sips to take the edge off and get comfortable." He leaned back on his hands to stare up at the sky, and Kyubin’s eyes fixed on his exposed neck. So many places to kiss, so much skin to mark; gently where his hair wouldn't cover, more daringly where the traces would be safe from the eyes of others, felt only by Yoojung alone. He could still taste the lip gloss on his tongue.

He looked away and cleared his throat. "The wish you baked into a cupcake came true. Does the magic work with bought vodka as well?"

"I’ll know the answer to that when you accept the invitation." He pushed himself up to his feet and started smoothing down his shirt. "To be clear, if you come over and it doesn’t end in sex, I'll still consider the wish as having come true. I just really don't wanna say goodnight yet. As long as we spend a few more hours together, I’ll be fine."

Kyubin kept still for a moment longer, gathering control over his body. Once he was positive he could be in Yoojung’s vicinity without putting his hands and lips back on him immediately, he joined him by the railing. "I’m not sure I'm comfortable with letting you settle for being fine. I want to do better than that."

Yoojung gave him a half-smile, and Kyubin forced his eyes away from his lips. "I’m not gonna turn down making out some more if you offer. That will make me better than fine. And even if we don't kiss and only hold hands, I’ll be better than fine."

You're too good to me, and I don't deserve you were words too charged for an already tension-filled atmosphere, so Kyubin kept them to himself. "I want to do more than that."

"Right, now that you mention, there was a certain someone who whispered in my ear that I should be more persuasive with my seduction. I wonder who he was, cause he sounded hot as fuck. If you ditch me tonight, I’m gonna find him and bring him home."

Kyubin let out a breathy laugh, certain that there was nobody else he’d rather have his sober first time with. "You can consider me partially seduced."

"How much? Thirty percent? Fifty?"

"Probably closer to eighty."

"Great. I’ll be cranking up my seducing powers to ninety, then."

"Why not go straight to hundred?"

"Hm." Yoojung raised one eyebrow cheekily. "I’m kind of filthy when I’m at a hundred. You might think you know what I’m like, but it gets much, much filthier. If I show it to you now, you're not gonna be able to resist jumping me in public."

"I see," Kyubin nodded, his grin undermining the attempt at sounding serious. "I didn’t realize you think so little of my self-restraint."

Yoojung stepped closer, his features shifting into that look which looked designed to titillate whoever was on the receiving end of it, and incredibly effective at what it set out to achieve. "I think your self-restraint is as impressive as it is frustrating, especially since now I know what it feels like when you have none. I really enjoyed finding out how desperate you've been for me."

Kyubin directed his eyes to Yoojung's shoulder to ask, "So what's stopping you from being at a hundred? Shouldn't you want to corrupt me even more?"

"If you’re so confident, fine, you’ll have me at a hundred. Just don't hold it against me if you can’t handle it." He wrapped his arms around Kyubin's neck, but before Kyubin could return the welcoming gesture that he interpreted as a hug, Yoojung leaned in close to his ear to whisper, "Have you ever thought about being fucked against your desk? We could make some really good memories there, you and I. Every time you'd sit at it to work, you'd remember how depraved you can let yourself be, how good it felt to have me press you down to it, fuck you until you’re mindless and can’t focus on anything but the way my hips drive into-"

"Yeah, uh." Kyubin stepped out of his hold, slightly unnerved and highly aroused. "Ninety it is, I think." All things considered, the shake in his voice was much tamer than he feared it would be.

Yoojung's face lit up with a self-satisfied smile. "Told you you can’t handle it. Now, how do we leave the building without bumping into anyone? I don’t want us to get cockblocked by your boss."

Though Kyubin already knew Yoojung wasn’t being serious with what he just described, he was very relieved to have it confirmed. "Let’s take the elevator to the second floor, then leave through the emergency staircase."

The elevator had CCTV installed, which was the only thing keeping Kyubin from pressing Yoojung up against the wall. From the way Yoojung was looking at him as he reapplied his lip gloss, something similar was going through his head, and Kyubin dug his nails into his palms to stay level headed. He caught a reflection of his disheveled hair, properly messed up by Yoojung’s hands, and smoothed it down a little.

"Aw, I worked so hard on that," Yoojung pouted.

"I’m giving you a chance to start over from scratch."

"I appreciate that."

The elevator dinged, and the door opened at their chosen floor, revealing a brightly lit hallway. Kyubin cautiously stuck out his head and breathed a sigh of relief when all he saw was the janitor mopping the floor, his back turned away from them.

He indicated for Yoojung to follow with his hand, but they barely took one step before the man turned around. "Hello, who- ah, it’s just you. Working late when everyone else is having a party?"

"Hello," Kyubin attempted to sound like an adult leaving a long day at work, not a child playing hooky. "Yes, I’ve just finished up."

"And who are you?" The janitor sized Yoojung up and down. "One of the staff?"

"I was hired as a waiter." Yoojung interjected before Kyubin could think up a lie. "Turns out there was a mix up, and they didn’t need the extra pair of hands, so I’m leaving."

"But what are you doing on this floor?" the man prodded. "You’re not allowed to wander around the building. I'm obligated to report this."

"Toilets," Kyubin blurted out. "There is just something about the toilets on the third floor. Very shiny, well-polished. I had to show them off."

The stare he received was skeptical at best, but he’d built up enough credit to not have his word easily questioned. "As long as he was under your eye the whole time, I can agree to let you go."

"Yes, I can vouch for him. We’ll get going now. Separately, of course, I don’t know this man."

"I thought we got pretty close during our toilet adventure," Yoojung said under his breath, and Kyubin masked his laugh with a cough.

While stepping outside, Kyubin realized two things. Firstly, this was likely one of the last humid evenings of the year, so if he decided to take up jogging, it was high time to look at some good windproof jackets. Secondly, the bird in his chest was awake once again, but it didn’t feel trapped anymore. It was just nervous to take a step off the ledge before its first soar.

"Bus or taxi?" Yoojung asked. "I vote for a bus, my seven day pass ends today, and I wanna get my money's worth."

"I vote for a taxi. Less people."

"So impatient to get me alone," Yoojung teased. "We’ve never been fully alone, have we? Not in a place nobody could potentially see us. I’m curious what you’re like where no eyes but mine can reach you."

"Even if we decide on a taxi, I’m afraid the driver would have to have eyes."

Yoojung shook his head with mock disappointment. "Your standards are way too high."

"Only when it comes to traffic safety. Well, and the men I kiss, of course." He realized they had started walking, but he was too focused on the way Yoojung’s hair blew in the light breeze to realize the destination he was being led to was the bus stop. He still firmly believed a taxi would have been a far better and more private option, but he decided to let Yoojung have this one.

"Is that what you look for in a guy?" Yoojung asked as he checked the timetable. "Eyes and a driver’s license? Should I keep my eye on you and the bus driver to make sure you don't ditch me to make out with them?"

"I don’t think it’s a driver’s license that makes someone kissable. That being said, I do have one. Does that make me more or less kissable in your eyes?"

"I think you know the answer is going to be more no matter what you say." Yoojung wrapped his arms around Kyubin's neck, and somehow that didn’t set off the instinct to look around in panic. They were the only ones at the stop, and all the cars passed by too fast to make him care. Maybe if he wasn’t so mesmerized by how glossy Yoojung’s mouth looked under the lights, he would have worried about someone from work spotting him in a compromising position, but alas, he wasn’t fully in his right mind. He felt liberated, dizzy, drunk on a kiss. "Don’t try to be more kissable right now," Yoojung muttered, making it even harder to look away from his lips when the voice coming from between them was so alluring. "We gotta stay decent in public."

"You can’t just assume I don’t have public indecency on my list of things I want to do." His voice sounded more raspy than he was used to hearing it, but he welcomed how right it felt.

"Do you? Cause if you’ve actually been a raging voyeurist playing innocent all along, I might need a heads up before we board the bus."

A smile split Kyubin’s face. "Yes, everything up until this point has been a ploy to get the attention of the bus driver. There was no other way left to get my kicks, I had to drag you into my live sex show that might end with the bus crashing. That’s just what I get off on, I’m afraid."

"And now I finally know why you waited so long to kiss me. You had to make me obsessed with you first, make me want you so much I’d agree to any wild scheme you come up with, and then start revealing your dark side when I’m already too far gone to resist."

"You see right through me. I thought the day someone would decipher me would never come, yet here you are."

Yoojung’s gaze didn't move away from his lips, and only became more intense. "There is so much of you I have yet to decipher." He scrunched his nose immediately after saying it. "Nope, never using that again, that wasn't sexy at all."

"Your delivery made it work," Kyubin assured him. "It sounded kind of romantic, too, but I doubt you intended it to."

Yoojung paused. "Right. Should we, like, talk about what we want to happen tonight so we’re on the same page? We don’t want a repeat of what happened on the date. I mean, I'm flexible in both senses of the word, but I'd rather know ahead of time what you like and dislike."

Kyubin shrugged lightly. "The things we talked about over the phone sounded nice."

"Oh, it will be much better than nice. Get ready to have your mind blown, along with another part of you." He changed to a less suggestive tone when he asked, "So you’ve got no romantic inclinations in the bedroom? No need for candles or rose petals scattered on the bed?"

A sense of bewilderment forced a laugh out of Kyubin. "Is that what romance in the bedroom boils down to? If so, I’m sure I’ll be fine without it."

"What does romantic sex mean in your opinion?"

"I don’t think I should attempt to define it, seeing as I know nothing about it."

Yoojung tilted his head. "Are you telling me the most romantic person I’ve ever met doesn’t know something about romance? I guess we're all fucked, then. You were humanity’s last hope."

"Hey, you're the one who insists on calling me a romantic, I never identified with this word. Maybe you should be the one to define it."

Yoojung laughed, and there was something uncharacteristically shy about that laugh that made Kyubin want to kiss him senseless. "Don’t blame me, it’s your own fault for making me perceive you like this."

"But it's not a bad thing?"

"No, not at all, it's just… I don't know. You act like such a chivalrous gentleman sometimes. If literally anyone else did it, I’d probably assume it’s a forced act, but it seems to come really naturally to you. I could ask you to tone it down, at least for tonight, but I’m not gonna. I don't want you to tone yourself down around me."

Kyubin stared at the upturned corners of Yoojung's lips, then into his eyes, and his heart began to beat louder. Yoojung’s way of desiring him felt unusual in how personal it was. He was used to the distant look in the eyes of one-time lovers, to feeling like nothing more than an attractive shape that could fit nicely into all the right places. He knew sex with Yoojung would be different, but now, he knew exactly how. There was bound to be a familiarity there that he'd never experienced before, a level of comfort reserved for people who unveiled deep thoughts to each other, who made one another laugh before kissing and held hands before sticking them down each other's pants.

He swallowed nervously before he attempted to communicate any of this. His mouth felt dry, and his heart was thumping as if he just took another sprint up the stairs. "Listen, I don’t know how to be romantic about this since I haven't got any experience, but if you're right in saying that it's something natural to me, then maybe I have a clue as to what it means. It might be something that starts to make sense only when you’re with someone you know and trust. I think… yeah. I think it’s about trust. I don’t know what that trust does exactly, but I think it could bring about something special. So, what I’m trying to say is, maybe we can figure out together how romance fits into all of this. I'd like to figure it out with you."

Perhaps he put a little too much hope into his voice. Perhaps he sounded too eager, too sappy or too dramatic. Whatever the cause, Yoojung looked like he was trying very hard to not show he felt uncomfortable. "We don't need to make that big of an effort straight away. It would only complicate things."

The excited flutter in Kyubin's stomach made him feel a bit nauseous all of a sudden, and he had to look away, down at his feet. "Right, of course. I understand."

"No, wait, I didn’t explain that well." Yoojung guided his chin up so Kyubin wouldn’t avoid his gaze. "You said on our last date that you didn’t overthink the sex you had before, right? As long as it was casual, it felt simple?"

"More or less, yes. Simpler than this."

"Right, that’s what I’m getting at. I found my casual relationships simple, and I want tonight to be about us having fun with something that feels simple to us both. We don’t have to try to figure out how our feelings fit into all of this, let’s just focus on learning more about each other’s bodies, okay?"

Kyubin nodded. "You're right, I got ahead of myself. It’s better to keep things simple." They always somehow met in the middle against all odds, and standing there in Yoojung's arms, oblivious to the world around them for a few blissful minutes, he was certain that no matter what the night brought, they would ultimately find that happy middle once more. "To make things even simpler, can you tell me more about what to expect once we’re alone?"

Yoojung hummed as he pretended to think deeply. "Expect something remarkable. Unforgettable. Outstandingly amazing."

"Right, why did I even ask? That’s what everything with you feels like."

Yoojung wetted his lips. "Just so you know, if I kiss you right now and it turns super fucking obscene, that’s entirely on you. That bus better come in one minute, or I swear I’m gonna drag you to those third floor bathrooms and have my way with you there."

Fortunately for them - though mostly for the janitor - the bus rounded the corner soon after Yoojung finished speaking, filled to the brim with tired passengers longing for some rest after a day of work. Going from a private moment under the cover of darkness to being stuck in a dense crowd under blaring artificial lights was disorienting. The instinct to keep physical distance from strangers made him press closer to Yoojung, who ended up turning around in order to preserve some level of public decency. Kyubin held onto the handgrip above his head tightly while Yoojung's back pressed to his front, propelling them further into each other with every precarious sway of the vehicle.

He forced himself to focus on the passing buildings, look past the faces of other passengers, but it was impossible not to be conscious of all the places their bodies touched. So much heat emanated from Yoojung's body, his scent still the most potent even in a sweaty, smelly crowd. All points of contact fueled the impatient buzz under his skin, and it was too electrifying to move away. Every rustle of a shopping bag or thudding steps on the deck made him painfully aware of how inappropriate it was that he didn’t even want to attempt to put distance between them. He wished he hadn't chewed through all the gum he had on him throughout the day, because he really didn't need a nicotine craving added to everything his body was pleading for.

Yoojung turned his head, and he was so close that Kyubin’s lips could've collided with his cheek if the bus made an abrupt turn. "Are you claustrophobic?" he asked under his breath.

"Hm? No, why?"

"You're breathing really heavily, kind of like you did back there, when you thought you had to give that speech. You're not gonna faint or throw up, are you?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. It's, uh. Well, can't you feel it?" He laughed out of humiliation, wishing he had insisted way harder on getting that taxi.

"Oh, I can, but I had to make sure you're not unwell."

"I'm fine. Sorry, I know how inappropriate and middle-school of me this is, it's just… Being this close to you is overwhelming." The fact that he was speaking right next to Yoojung's ear was likely the only reason his barely audible confession was heard.

Yoojung craned his neck to gauge the view out the window. "We should be there in fifteen minutes or so. Shit, should we have gone to yours instead? I didn’t even think to ask."

"No, I’m glad we’re going to yours. The drive to my place is longer with how the traffic gets in the center, anyway."

"But would you be more comfortable right now if at least one thing tonight was something familiar?"

Kyubin smiled at the concern in his voice. "This isn’t that unfamiliar. The biggest difference is that I've never been sober for this, so that factors into how intensely I perceive it."

"So once you have a drink, you'll feel at ease?"

Kyubin hesitated before they could discuss the topic in depth, wary of the fact that anyone around them could turn out to have really good hearing and pick up on every word. Luckily, when the doors opened at the next stop, enough people poured out for the two of them to move somewhere less cramped.

"I think I'll pass on drinking tonight, actually," he said as they took their seats at the back.

"Really?" Yoojung took in the way he had pressed himself into the corner, suit jacket strategically bundled up in his lap. "Not even a shot to loosen up? Because I want this to be as relaxing and low-pressure for you as possible. That's why you've always done this drunk, right? So it felt easier?"

"Yeah, but that's not necessary tonight. I needed it before to get brave enough to hit on people, and I don't need to do that this time."

"I see." He looked like he would drop the topic, but then he asked, "So the only reason you drank was for a confidence boost to get things going?"

"Mostly, yes."

"Mostly," Yoojung repeated. "So the rest of the reason is that the latter part of the night also felt easier because you weren't sober?"

Kyubin wished he could have easily denied it, but that would have been a lie. Reality felt trivial and elusive when he got drunk enough, and he needed that when he had nobody but strangers putting their hands on him. He had to be drunk for it, because deep down he knew it was never really him they wanted; he was just one of the men in the bar they found attractive enough to get naked with. If it hadn't been him, they would have found someone else, and that was a reality he couldn't bear to think about. That he was a replaceable body no one wanted to wake up next to.

So even if taking in no alcohol would result in nerves twisting his stomach to the point of nausea, trying to numb himself to anything Yoojung made him feel defeated the whole point of doing this with him. Yoojung was striking and vibrant, and Kyubin still couldn't quite believe someone so breathtaking was willing to give him his time and attention. He had to face this pressure head on, because if he couldn’t handle a shared night with Yoojung without getting intoxicated, then he wasn’t worthy of being with him at all.

"Things are very different now," he replied after a thoughtful pause. "I don't want to repeat those old habits anymore. Partially because they're unhealthy, but mostly because I want to be completely present for this. For you."

"If you're sure," Yoojung said, sounding like he couldn't decide if that sentence warranted a question mark at the end or not.

"I am, yeah. You don’t seem sure at all. Why is that?"

Yoojung chewed his lip before answering, "I just don't think we should take any risks, you know? It would be better to approach this like it's not anything new."

"But… it is something new."

"I know, and focusing on every detail that makes this new would make things way too convoluted, don't you think?"

Kyubin looked at his profile carefully to try and discern why he felt this way without having to ask too many prying questions. To him, it seemed far more convoluted to pretend this wasn't new territory to both of them, and the perspective of exploring a new kind of intimacy was far more exciting than scary. Perhaps the balance between those two emotions was the complete opposite for Yoojung.

He took in the way Yoojung kept toying with a button on his cuff, and cautiously asked, "Are you also nervous about tonight?"

"Me? What do I gotta be nervous for? We're gonna be on my turf after all. The couch should be burned after being cummed on so many times." He choked out a short laugh. "Probably could’ve kept that to myself."

"It's okay if you are a bit nervous."

Yoojung poked him in the bicep. "Get that look off your face, I'm fine. I'm the one who's worrying about you, not the other way around."

"I think some mutual worry is okay."

"When warranted, yeah, but you shouldn't worry about me. Too much worrying makes sex worse, never heard that ancient proverb?"

"Oh, I'm sure I've come across it in a school textbook before."

Yoojung shifted close so their sides remained pressed as he watched the passing views intently, but Kyubin wasn't interested in the blur of buildings outside. He leaned his forearms on his knees to admire the way Yoojung’s hair swayed along with the movement of the bus and how the lights flashed across his face. The raised corner of Yoojung's mouth told him he was being very obvious with his staring, but he couldn't look away. His hands itched with a need to touch, so he placed one arm on the back of Yoojung's seat and wished for the bus to pick up the pace.

"How does being drunk make you feel?" Yoojung asked, still absorbed by the views of Seoul. At least that was what Kyubin assumed until he shifted his attention to the window, caught Yoojung's eyes in the reflection and realized Yoojung was just more subtle than him.

"That depends on what I drink, plus how much and how fast. One or two beers taken in slowly would just make me a bit giddy, but three shots of tequila make me extremely nauseous, especially when I stand up too fast."

"I meant more in the sense of, how does it help you in picking up guys? I've gotten drunk a few times in the past, but I don't remember it making me feel much else besides dizzy. What is it about being drunk that makes going after what you want easier?"

Kyubin thought for a moment. "The part of my mind that analyzes all the possible consequences goes quiet, so it feels like nothing stands between me and whatever I want. Reality becomes easier to navigate in that state. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm going to do something until I'm already doing it. That's what happened the first time I talked to you."

Yoojung leaned in closer to speak in a hushed tone. "So it puts you into an ideal mindset for sex, doesn't it? You just follow your instincts without overthinking the how and why of it all. I'm not trying to convince you to change your mind or anything, I'm just trying to understand why you're adamant about not drinking tonight."

"I wouldn't call it an ideal mindset. I also become very impulsive and hasty. You’ve seen that firsthand, and from what I’ve gathered, you weren’t a fan."

"If I knew you were trying to hit on me that night, I would've flirted back. Doesn’t impulsive and hasty sound like the best way to be when you're having sex?"

Kyubin opened his mouth to argue back, but stopped himself. It was getting increasingly harder to reason that he wasn't pushing for an ultimately selfish decision. Yoojung wanted to avoid the kind of intimacy Kyubin hoped for, and clearly, the version of Kyubin he found most desirable was the one who was used to locking his heart up. Kyubin’s priority wasn't meant to be himself, anyway. This was about Yoojung; about bringing him the satisfaction he'd been denied for weeks. He just wasn’t sure he could silence his awakened hopes without drowning them in vodka first.

"You okay?" Yoojung placed his hand on his thigh, and Kyubin forced himself not to look around to check if any of the passengers noticed. "You seem kind of spooked."

"I’m fine." He sent Yoojung a smile which he hoped made him appear calmer than he felt. "I might change my mind about this once we're at yours. After all, it would be better to ensure I don’t complicate this. That would be a good way to ruin the night, wouldn't it? Overthink every little thing until neither of us can enjoy ourselves."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to pressure yourself into drinking, either." He squeezed Kyubin's thigh, a gesture that was likely meant to be reassuring, but only made Kyubin want his hand to move to other places. "You know, when we made out, it felt like you stopped thinking and allowed your body to take over. If kissing me makes you feel the same as being drunk does then you’ve got nothing to worry about."

"It did feel similar, yeah. Maybe your lip gloss has a high alcohol content."

Yoojung narrowed his eyes before fishing the little tube out of his pocket and waving it under Kyubin’s nose. "You like that? Is it getting you all hot and bothered yet? Mmm, you want that sticky fluid smeared all over your body?"

"Okay, okay, I concur," Kyubin replied through laughter as he tried to push Yoojung’s hand away. "It wasn’t that, it was the one wearing it."

Satisfied, Yoojung put away the interrogation tool and leaned in to whisper hotly against Kyubin's ear, "And do you really believe all thoughts won’t fly out of your head once the one wearing it is all that you can feel? All that you can smell? All that you can taste?"

Kyubin looked at the city lights passing outside the window to fight back the temptation to kiss the words off his lips. "Well, when you put it like that… not particularly."

He had half a mind to pay attention to the turns they took from the bus stop. The area looked exactly like what Kyubin expected someone with a barista’s salary to be able to afford in Seoul; all he could see were gray blocks of flats anywhere he turned his head, and only Yoojung's tight hold on his hand stopped him from tripping over uneven flagstone and falling face first onto a government-neglected sidewalk. His body didn't feel fully his own anymore, already getting into the mindset of being shared and explored in a whole new way.

"Don’t expect much from my flat," Yoojung warned as he turned the key. "It's slightly bigger than your cubicle."

Once the door closed, Kyubin only had time to catch a glimpse of moonlit shapes in the darkness before Yoojung reached for him and his body reacted on its own, allowing their lips to meet halfway. They both sighed into the kiss like going for half an hour without having their mouths touch put them through unimaginable torture.

Kissing Yoojung felt different the second time around. They were alone in complete silence, their deepened breaths and the smacking of their lips unmuffled by outside noise. Nothing stood between them and taking this cautiously exploratory kiss all the way, however far and however fast they wanted. For a moment, all that infinite potential made it hard for Kyubin to move his hands, one still clutching his bundled up suit jacket, the other resting on Yoojung's shoulder, neither pushing nor pulling closer, just staying still.

Yoojung was the first one to snap out of that stupor. He eagerly deepened the kiss, and his hands became greedy in the best way possible as they began to roam wherever they could get a feel of Kyubin's hard-earned physique. Kyubin felt him trace the muscles on his arms and chest through the thin material, then pull the tucked-in bottom of the shirt out and slip under it to touch his abdomen. The journey came to an end in Kyubin's hair, tangling close to the skin of the head and tugging gently. Something about the light yet deliberate pressure felt hungry, like he’d been dreaming about it for weeks, and Kyubin’s back met the door as his thoughts finally went incoherent.

He dropped the suit jacket onto the floor to free his hands and pull Yoojung closer, causing whatever minuscule space that had been left between their bodies to disappear. He could feel Yoojung everywhere, all up against his body and in his mind, stimulating all of his senses at once. His thigh was between Kyubin's legs, his hair between Kyubin's fingers, his tongue tickling the roof of Kyubin's mouth, and it all felt so incredibly right.

Curious of what reaction he would incite, he sucked on Yoojung’s lower lip more passionately than he dared before, and the low groan which reverberated in Yoojung’s chest sent another thrill through his body. Once his hands found their way to Yoojung's hips, he couldn’t resist the urge to slip them into Yoojung’s back pockets and dig his fingers into the soft flesh. It resulted in a quiet gasp as Yoojung's hips rocked against him, but almost immediately, Kyubin found himself grasping on empty air as his wrists were pressed firmly to the door. The hold was tight and insistent for only a few seconds, though even then it wasn't strong enough to restrain him if he wanted to struggle. He didn't. Being led and having some of his movements limited wasn’t a foreign feeling, nor was it an unpleasant one. Which part of what he did Yoojung liked and disliked wasn’t clear, but he still soaked up the hint to learn how to make him feel even better.

When Yoojung finally released him, Kyubin kept his arms down his sides for a moment before tentatively settling them on Yoojung’s face. To his delight, Yoojung continued the enthusiastic exploration underneath his shirt, but Kyubin felt no rush to match that worked up energy. The way Yoojung’s jaw fit in the palm of his hand made sense, and it felt comforting to allow Yoojung to take the reins in fueling the eagerness in them both. He had many nights ahead to learn every inch of Yoojung’s body, and there was joy in allowing his touch to linger in one place, thumb slowly learning the curve of Yoojung's cheekbone.

Yoojung must have misinterpreted the languid gestures as hesitation, because he separated their lips and leaned in close to his ear. "Don’t hold back, just enjoy this. Turn off your mind and focus only on me, on what I make you feel. Can you do that for me? Just feel."

Kyubin closed his eyes and felt. He felt Yoojung’s hands under his shirt, warm, scrupulous, softer than the most fine cotton and silk blend he’d ever worn. He felt warmth spreading inside his body and everywhere their bodies connected, molten hot in places where no material separated their skin. He felt Yoojung’s hair between his fingers as his hands sprung to action, and Yoojung’s lips on his neck, inciting pleasant shivers with each touch to the most sensitive spots. He felt a rush of heat through his body, swelling and pulsating, tension and impatience, an itch under his skin to feel more, and an even stronger itch to wait, to hold back, to make it last and make it count. Reaching relief was worth nothing if it meant putting a stop to this.

"How do you feel?" Yoojung asked before gently nipping Kyubin’s earlobe with his teeth.

"Nice. Really nice."

"That’s good. Get ready to feel even nicer."

Kyubin brought his face closer to kiss him fervently, causing a surprised sound which turned into a pleased hum when Kyubin took the initiative to deepen the kiss. He wasn't given enough time to relish in the novelty of effortlessly provoking such sweet sounds before the kiss ended and Yoojung’s hands slid down his torso, sending a tremble through his body when he realized the reason why.

He didn’t think this would take place so soon, while he was upright and leaning against the hard surface of Yoojung’s front door. His thoughts were a bit too jumbled to string together a full sentence, so he searched Yoojung’s head with his hand, but Yoojung didn't seem to take it as a prelude to a question rather than a request to press Kyubin's hips closer to the door and continue leaving kisses down his stomach until he reached the waistband. The sensations made Kyubin’s mind blank enough to simply lean his head against the door and relax into the waves of heat enveloping his body, his blood rushing to where the immediate stimulation was.

"You're clean, right?" Yoojung made sure while undoing the button.

"Yeah, I- yeah. I had a check up two weeks ago."

"Good." Despite how dark it was, Yoojung unbuckled the belt smoothly, without any fumbling. "Wow, you really do have healthy blood circulation." Kyubin wished he could've seen that little playful smirk that always came with this tone, though never before in this position. Before he could think of searching for the light switch, Yoojung added, "And you smell so good," followed by a hot breath and a touch of lips through the underwear, and Kyubin's hand shot up to his mouth to silence any words that would put a stop to this.

Whether Yoojung was merciful or a relentless tease, Kyubin couldn’t decide. All he felt at first was the gentle grazing of fingertips and light presses of lips, then a hint of tongue, each touch fleeting, rapidly building up impatience in his body. Then, all that was subtle and feather-like was replaced by a firm hand and enveloping silky heat. For a moment, he couldn't think at all, and for that one moment, all that filled him was blind bliss.

When Yoojung released him with a low groan after familiarizing himself with how Kyubin felt in his mouth, Kyubin dug his nails into his palm. There was an unexpected layer of intensity that came with experiencing all these sensations with such clarity of mind, made all the more intense by how familiar he was with the one doing this for him. He was immensely glad the light stayed off, because he knew the sheer sight of Yoojung on his knees with his lips stretched would make it difficult not to embarrass himself. He deeply distrusted his own body's ability to make this last as long as he wanted it to.

Yoojung’s goal seemed to be the exact opposite. Whether he just teased with his tongue or sucked tightly, he dedicated himself fully to that one thing, and he wouldn’t stop until some involuntary reaction of Kyubin's body informed him he had surpassed the level of intensity Kyubin was used to. Once he got the reaction he wanted to provoke, he would make a low, satisfied sound, and let go only to repeat the action soon after. It became nearly impossible for Kyubin to squash down all the sounds forcibly wanting to escape him, but he did his best to stay quiet.

Then Yoojung took him in all the way and closed his lips tightly around the base, and the deep groan that resounded in Kyubin's chest was quickly silenced by both palms pressed over his mouth.

Yoojung released him to whisper, "Don’t hold back," his lips moving against the tip and making Kyubin buck against his hold. "Let me hear you."

"What about your neighbors?" Kyubin whispered back. "We’re right by your front door."

"Nobody’s walking by. Come on, let me hear how it feels."

When he resumed, it was with even greater enthusiasm, and Kyubin attempted to loosen the tightness in his throat to let Yoojung know how good it felt, but the part of him responsible for expressing pleasure vocally had closed up. It had never been an issue before, at least as long as he had alcohol in his system. Apparently, his sober mind deemed that the source of all those sensations was too far away from his vocal cords to justify any noise louder than a breath. He pressed his fingers to his mouth to retain some of the sensations of Yoojung’s kisses and focused on the pleasure washing over him, his other hand grasping at air, not wanting to touch Yoojung's head in case he took it as an invitation to go faster.

"Cum whenever you feel like it," Yoojung said, and Kyubin almost gave in. Almost, because the dreamlike image of their intertwined bodies as they came together cut through that urgency and forced him to hold back. He wanted it so much, that ecstatic moment in Yoojung’s sheets, face to face, lips to lips. His body yelled at him to stop thinking and allow Yoojung to give him that sweet release, but it didn't feel right. He hadn't even touched Yoojung yet and given back even a fraction of the pleasure offered to him. He was frustrated and overwhelmed, and he just wanted to kiss Yoojung again, and he was so, so close.

He tapped Yoojung's shoulder frantically. "Wait, wait, stop."

Yoojung pulled off. "It's okay, I can take it," he whispered hoarsely. "I want you to cum."

"Me too, it’s just- we said we’d take it slow, right?"

"Oh, you can take it slow." The way he spoke wasn't unlike how he flirted over the phone, just as heated and unabashed, but this time, he sounded much more emphatic. "Hold my head, like this-" he took Kyubin’s hand and put it onto his head, spreading his fingers apart to get a better grip of the hair, "go at your own tempo, lose yourself in it. I almost never even choke anymore. I'm gonna take it so well." He sounded genuinely hungry for it, and Kyubin dared to hope that it wasn’t as much about the act itself as about who he was doing this for, and that made him even more torn as to what he should do.

The way his hand rested on Yoojung’s head didn't feel as right as it did with other people, so he moved it down to the side of Yoojung's neck, thumb resting against his jaw. It felt much more natural to put it there, less impersonal. "I want to give you what you like, I really do, it’s just…" He trailed off, all explanations coming to mind too cheesy to say to someone with Yoojung’s expertise.

"You okay?" Yoojung's hands moved down to his thighs to massage them gently. "We don't have to do that if that's not what you're into, just tell me how you'd like it. Want me to finish you off with my hand?"

"No, I… it's too soon. I’d like us to finish at the same time. I want it to be something we can share." He realized how riskily close to romantic the confession was after saying it, but it paid off when Yoojung left a kiss above his waistband.

"I can make you cum twice in one night, don’t you doubt my skills. If you're worried you won't get it up again, don't be, your blood circulation is more than fine." In a softer voice, he added, "No overthinking, okay? Get the first orgasm out of the way, take all that pressure off, and the rest of the night will feel like a holiday whatever we choose to do."

Kyubin let the back of his head hit the door. "I’m sorry for ruining the moment. I should’ve kept my mouth shut."

"No, you shouldn’t have. I just want to understand why you stopped me. You seemed really into it, based on… well, everything."

"I was, I really was." He didn't regret stopping. His sentimental heart called out for more, and he didn't want to tell it to shut up. Perhaps he woke up more selfish that day than any other. Picking his words carefully, he argued, " I think we might have different ideas about what slow means, that's all. I prefer one long buildup. It feels good to hold back, leave myself wanting more, put in the time and work to get there."

"I see," Yoojung slipped right back into his flirty tone. "Does it turn you on to deny yourself what you want?"

"I guess it does. I don’t want to deny you anything you want, though."

"That’s okay, I enjoy some drawn out tension every now and again. As long as you promise to let me taste you tonight, we can take it as slow as you like."

"I’ve been trying to eat better, but I can’t promise I’ll taste any good." He nearly hit himself after saying that.

"Doesn’t matter," Yoojung said, and the caress Kyubin felt against his pelvis was so soft that it could have only been Yoojung's cheek. "A bad dessert is better than no dessert. No, fuck, what? That was gross, forget I said it."

To ease the embarrassment he sensed from his voice, Kyubin told him, "I enjoyed hearing you say it."

"Really? I mean, no wonder. I'm pretty damn enjoyable, aren’t I?"

"You are, you're very enjoyable. Could I enjoy you up here a little longer? I haven't gotten enough of kissing you yet."

"Honestly, same." Yoojung tucked his cock back into his underwear, leaving the fly and belt undone as he stood up. "Did I get too carried away? Normally when I have a guest I'd at least offer the bathroom first, but I just jumped you first thing."

"This is the warmest welcome I've ever received. And if anything, I’m not getting carried away enough. I got too in my head about how I’d sound."

"Hey, even if your reaction to getting your dick sucked is to oink like a pig, I wanna hear it."

Perhaps Yoojung really did affect him in the same way alcohol did, intensifying his impulsive side the more of him he had, because of all the things Kyubin could've done, he pulled Yoojung into his arms and held him flush against his body. Yoojung stood unmoving for only a split second before resting his chin in the crook of Kyubin's neck, quieting the anxious voice in Kyubin's head that he'd done something way out of place. He caressed the back of Yoojung's head, and Yoojung sighed while his hands settled on Kyubin's waist.

"Your heartbeat's going so fast," he whispered. "Nerves or just me?"

"You. Only you." He sounded a bit too earnest for his own liking, so to distract Yoojung from reading into the romance of it all, he added, "You're really good at this, which I’m sure you already know. It felt amazing. Thank you."

Yoojung laughed quietly. "You might be the first person in the history of humanity who says thank you for an unfinished blowjob."

"Your effort deserves praise." He thought he sensed a slight tremble go through Yoojung's body, though it might have been nothing more than an illusion. His breaths were heavy and hot against Kyubin’s neck, and the erection trapped in his pants was apparent against Kyubin’s pelvis, but he didn't grind his hips in search of relief. Something about this stillness felt electric. Even though Kyubin couldn’t see much beyond a vague outline of him, he felt all of him, so tense with want, and yet so patient in how he returned the embrace.

"Now you’re making me want to put even more effort in," Yoojung whispered. "You should start thinking up some praise for when I finally do make you cum."

"I don't think I need to prepare ahead. It might flow out of me naturally in the heat of the moment."

Yoojung snorted. "That and other things." He nuzzled the side of Kyubin’s neck while Kyubin’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. "I forgot how good your cologne smells. I might steal it when I sleep over at yours."

"Please do," Kyubin said on an exhale. He pressed his nose to Yoojung’s hair and inhaled deeply. Herbal, with a hint of ginger. "Can I steal your shampoo someday?"

"Yeah, steal it tomorrow." Yoojung's hands moved up his sides to rest on his back, and he pressed their fronts together just a little more firmly, but still refused to chase any more profound sensations. "This side of you is really hot."

Kyubin tightened his arms around him. "What side is that, exactly?"

Yoojung took a moment to answer. "I don't know what to call it, it just feels nice. Feels new."

Kyubin felt the wall where he hoped his hand would meet a lightswitch, and it did. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes, catching glimpses of the room at the end of the short hall they were in, with a coffee table and beige couch in the middle. This whole flat seemed not much bigger than Kyubin’s living room, but the muted warm colors made it feel more inviting and lived-in than his white and gray apartment ever did. "Your place is charming."

"That’s a very generous word." Yoojung raised his head, allowing Kyubin to see his flushed cheeks and red lips in full glory, and he felt a rush of pride at the sight. I caused this. I made him feel like this. "You didn’t have to turn the lights on. I mean, it's fine by me, but I thought you’d wanna keep them off."

Kyubin gave a sheepish shrug. "I missed your face. It’s nice to look at."

He wanted to see a sweet smile in response, but the tilt of Yoojung's lips was more akin to a smirk, his mind already onto other things. "My face has better use than looking pretty."

Kyubin kissed him to express agreement, and just in case Yoojung wished to use his face for something else, he threw both arms around his neck to keep him in place for good. Yoojung made a surprised yelp, and then kissed the smile off Kyubin’s face vigorously.

Yoojung was so delightfully reactive while being kissed. The more familiar and comfortable Kyubin grew with the specific ways Yoojung wanted their mouths to interact, the more often he heard a soft sigh, a quiet hum, a quick gasp. He pulled Kyubin away from the door, and Kyubin followed with his eyes closed as Yoojung guided them with the ease of someone who hit his calves on the edges of furniture enough times to safely move both himself and another person through the room without breaking apart.

When their lips did break apart, it was sudden and disorienting. Kyubin opened his eyes to the sight of Yoojung sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide to make space between them, eyes pleading for more, chest heaving as he caught air with parted lips, all dazed and disheveled. He reached for Kyubin impatiently, as if putting so much space between their bodies was not something he intended to happen, and Kyubin took his hands gently, wanting to admire how much need he was able to provoke in this man for a moment longer.

Yoojung's eyes widened momentarily as he looked down at their hands, gaze following the movement of Kyubin's thumb brushing his knuckles. He blinked slowly, but whether he felt entranced or wary, Kyubin couldn’t tell. The question as to whether this was okay was on the tip of his tongue, but then something in Yoojung’s body language shifted, and all that hesitation melted away. He looked Kyubin up and down with a heated look, made all the more intense by the dark shadows painted around his eyes.

"I'm so glad you turned the light on," he murmured. Just when Kyubin became aware of how ridiculous he must look with his unbuttoned pants halfway down his thighs, Yoojung told him, "You look really hot right now."

Kyubin barked out a surprised laugh and caught his pants before they fell further down his legs. "Do I?"

The puzzled look on Yoojung’s face faded just as fast as it appeared. "Yeah, you are, but I might take some hotness points away for laughing at my compliment. I thought you had better manners than that."

"Right, that wasn’t gentlemanly of me at all. Thank you for the compliment," he corrected himself. "You also look very hot right now. Not that you’re not always hot, you are. Maybe just a bit more now."

"Oh, I know that, but your delivery wasn’t very convincing. Try again." He relaxed in the crook of the couch casually as he waited for a response. Though his smile remained playful, there was a weight to his gaze which kept Kyubin's nerves on edge. Anyone on the receiving end of such intense attention was bound to feel like the most desirable person Yoojung ever laid eyes on, and Kyubin could see how certain he was that the object of his lust was worthy of being wanted this deeply. The last time someone had looked at him like this, Kyubin unceremoniously dropped to his knees.

He took a deeper breath to force himself to focus on the present moment instead of dwelling on the details that made Yoojung similar to the one he wished to forget altogether. "You are really, really sexy." His voice was quiet, and that felt like even further proof of how much he meant it.

"I’m so glad you agree. Don't just stand there, come to me."

Kyubin didn't move, but not because he chose to. All of a sudden, his body began acting weirdly stubborn and uncooperative, hyper aware of how transparent all the sensations spreading through him were. Yoojung knew had him wrapped around his little finger. How could he not know when he saw proof of it everywhere his eyes wandered, written plainly all over Kyubin's face and body.

The bold spark in his eyes was the only warning Kyubin got before Yoojung’s fingers hooked through his belt loops and tugged to make him stumble onto the seat and kneel between his legs. He balanced himself by placing both hands on the backrest, effectively trapping Yoojung under him. With their faces a mere few inches apart, it would have only made sense to close the distance and kiss Yoojung some more, but that piercing stare was far more effective at restraining him than Yoojung’s hands had been. Even though he was the one leaning over Yoojung sprawled under him, him, all self-control had drifted out of his grasp, and it was as intimidating as it was arousing.

"Think you can handle me at a hundred now?" Yoojung asked, voice slightly raspy. His fingers wandered lazily up Kyubin’s thigh, teasing the skin above his waistband as. "Nonstop until we’re too tired to go on?"

You don’t have to keep seducing me, Kyubin wanted to tell him. I’m already yours. "I’ll try my best," he said instead, which was also an honest statement.

"I know you can do it." He grabbed the back of Kyubin’s neck and kissed him with all the pent up need Kyubin hadn’t met yet. The kiss was as hungry as his gaze, but the rest of his body remained surprisingly temperate. His hands didn’t move below Kyubin’s waist or underneath his shirt, and he didn’t search for contact beyond that. Even now, untouched and so obviously frustrated, he continued holding back just because of Kyubin’s wish. That sentimental, selfish little wish.

Kyubin poured all his gratitude into returning the kiss as he tried to match its ferocity, fists clenching Yoojung’s shirt before copying the way Yoojung’s hands had moved in his hair. All he could think was that he needed to let Yoojung know he was not going to be passive about this. He would put in the work to deserve him.

Unbeknown to which of his actions caused it, he felt a shift in how Yoojung moved against him. His back arched a little to press his chest closer to Kyubin's, and his hands joined at the back of Kyubin’s neck, putting a stop to their wandering as he simply followed along with everything Kyubin initiated. Recognizing that he was being entrusted with taking control made Kyubin want to be more reckless and unhurried at once, and the only way he could express this paradox was by deepening the kiss before trailing his lips along Yoojung’s jaw, up to his temple, and down to connect their lips again. Every kiss and touch spilled out of him spontaneously, unrestrained by his overly intricate thinking, and he relished every pleased reaction he provoked. Why this instinctive way of expressing his want came and went as it pleased was a mystery to him, but he welcomed its return.

He moved his attention down to Yoojung’s neck, and to test the waters, bit down gently in a spot where only makeup would cover the trace. Just as he was starting to wonder whether he should ask before leaving a hickey or do it willfully, Yoojung craned his head back to allow better access. "Mm, yeah," he sighed when Kyubin sucked his skin between his lips, and Kyubin was certain that no sweeter sound existed.

Once the hickey was done, light red and ready to turn darker within days before fading forever, the rush inside of him inexplicably quieted. He kept his lips pressed to the mark, as if that would stop it from being erased like all the other marks he’d ever left. When he shifted his mouth elsewhere, he did so with the intention to leave another trace of his presence, but he went motionless when he felt Yoojung’s pulse on his lips. For a few heartbeats, he was fully conscious of how fragile the connection they’ve built over the past month was, how easily malleable and breakable. No sound came from Yoojung other than soft, shaky breathing, but his arms around Kyubin tightened their hold, solid and secure. With each following beat of their hearts, all of that fragility seemed more exciting than terrifying.

The rush returned with doubled intensity as suddenly as it went away. Kyubin slipped his thumb under Yoojung’s shirt and swiped it across his bare skin, and just as he was starting to wonder where else on Yoojung’s body he could leave a trace of himself, his lips met a texture that wasn’t skin. He let out a frustrated groan and yanked the collar out of the way, drawing a laugh from Yoojung.

"Go easy on the poor shirt," he whispered. Kyubin looked up to catch him with his eyes half-open, a soft smile lighting up his face. The full-bodied, dizzying jolt of desire that the sight sent through his body was as startling as it was delightful. Before he could fully savor the view, the smile disappeared as Yoojung shook off the semi-alert state he was in and reached for the buttoned placket on Kyubin's shirt. "Damn, you’re good at being distracting. I should’ve freed you from your shirt long ago."

"Later," Kyubin whispered, "Let me just- let me give back. I want to learn how you like to be touched. Please."

Yoojung hesitated, but he released Kyubin’s shirt and reached for the buttons on his own. "So polite. Don’t you feel like being a bit more rude at a time like this?"

"No, not at all. I want to live up to the title you gave me. Be a proper gentleman."

"Hm." Yoojung started to unbutton his shirt slowly, and Kyubin watched, fascinated by the sight of all the skin being revealed. "Gotta say, I’m curious how a gentleman fucks. I bet it feels incredible."

Kyubin glanced up at his face quickly and immediately looked back down at his hands. Even when he wasn’t meeting Yoojung’s eyes, he felt them, pinning him in place and keeping all his movements in check. His understanding of where they stood and what Yoojung wanted from him was starting to get really, really muddled. "I don't think a gentleman fucks," he argued half-heartedly. "At least I wouldn't if I was trying to be gentlemanly."

"So what would you do?"

Make love, Kyubin thought, and hoped Yoojung didn’t possess a supernatural ability to read minds. "I’d just… try my best to make you feel good."

Yoojung put his hands by his sides, shirt half-undone. "Go on, try."

Kyubin reached for the next button, fingers trembling like he hadn't done this countless times before. He had no doubt that Yoojung didn't intend to make him feel this agitated. Hell, he probably didn’t even realize that a single glance from him made Kyubin feel like he was standing in front of an audience, the ceiling light blaring down like a spotlight to illuminate all of his inadequacies. Yoojung was definitely used to men that were skilled and natural in the same way he embodied. And yet, there Kyubin was. Rattled, clumsy, anxious.

He leaned down to press a kiss to the revealed bit of Yoojung's chest, simultaneously trying and failing to open another button. With a frustrated sigh, he detached his lips from Yoojung’s skin and focused solely on untangling the last few buttons from their cotton prison. Once the final one fell open, he quickly pushed the shirt off Yoojung’s shoulders and kissed the bit of skin he had been denied access to before, putting all of his concentration into making it as pleasurable as he knew how.

As his lips discovered that Yoojung enjoyed having the area around his collarbones gently nipped, his hands discovered that Yoojung’s stomach was firm to the touch, with prominent muscles near the middle; palpable proof of his passion and self-discipline. Even though he wanted to linger in these places and learn everything he could from them, he forced his hands to stimulate every bit of bare skin they could reach: run down Yoojung's sides, up his back, circle his nipples. He had to convince Yoojung he had more to offer than quivering hands and awkward fumbling.

Even though moving on instinct felt much harder than before, he was used to this kind of touching. He knew how to make someone else’s body adjust to having him this close, how to make it want his body more than it did before. He knew the warmth of skin on his lips, the taste of sweat, the shapes of ribs and lean muscles under his hands, and the impatience stirring in his body as a response to the stimuli. What he wasn’t used to was this annoying voice in the back of his head accompanying every move, reminding him that there was still a chance he would never get another chance to be this close to Yoojung if he didn’t do well enough.

To center himself and calm down all those restless thoughts for good, he directed his hand to the left of Yoojung’s chest where he could feel the beating of his heart at his fingertips. He flattened his palm to absorb more of that pulse and feel the steady rise and fall, his lungs copying the tempo and depth of each breath.

"Found your answer yet?" Yoojung asked.

Kyubin didn't try to meet his gaze this time. "What answer?"

"You were curious about my muscles. Is this the kind of body you like?"

The way he phrased it didn't sit well with Kyubin at all. Why would Yoojung so mindlessly remove the essence of what Kyubin truly enjoyed about this moment, about him? Did he not understand? "I do like your body. I like it because it's yours, so… I would've liked it no matter what it was like."

For the duration it took Kyubin to suck another hickey into his skin, Yoojung didn't react. "That’s nice. Your body is exactly the kind I like, based on what I’ve seen and felt so far."

He's just waiting for you to touch his dick, whispered the annoying voice. He’s going to lose any ounce of attraction he ever felt for you if you keep stalling.

At last, Kyubin directed one hand down to where Yoojung's hard cock had been trapped for far too long, and the gasp that left Yoojung’s mouth almost felt like a compliment. "Can I return the favor?" he asked before he could think twice about what he was suggesting, lightheaded with a mix of want and anxiety. He had to at least attempt to validate Yoojung's desire for him.

"Yeah, if you're down. Please."

Kyubin lowered himself to the floor so his face was at the level of Yoojung's crotch. When he reached into Yoojung's pants, Yoojung jerked up into the touch, and the drops of precum gathered on the tip made Kyubin's mouth water. He was about to ask for one of the couch cushions to ease the discomfort of kneeling, or better yet, get back up on the couch, but all such thoughts faded away when he looked up. Yoojung’s pupils were blown wide, hungrily drinking in the sight of the fingers wrapped around himself.

"Your fingers are so long," he said under his breath. Louder, he added, "It’s so hot that you’ve still got most of your fancy suit on. Does it feel good to be on your knees dressed like this?"

Kyubin could only nod as the fragments of his very first fantasy about this man hit him, edges blurring and mixing with real memories where he was in this exact position, possibly the most vivid of all the drunken memories. He could still recall the need and the shame he felt then as if it was yesterday, and he tried to play off his involuntary wince as an inch above his eyebrow. "How do you like it?"

Yoojung licked his lips as he continued studying Kyubin's hand, but then he lightly shook his head as if to force out whatever idea played out in his mind. "Show me how you like to do it. I wanna see you enjoy yourself."

As much as Kyubin appreciated the sentiment, he really, really wished he could have just gotten some instructions, because all the things he wanted led to places he didn't want to revisit. He wanted to concentrate so much pleasure in one place that Yoojung had no choice but to lose control over his body. He wanted to look up at Yoojung's face and see that look again, that soundless pleading, the desperation caused by the knowledge that in this moment, there was nobody else but Kyubin who could give him the satisfaction he needed. He wanted to see that Yoojung was his.

"Come on," Yoojung encouraged him. "Nothing to be shy about. Your lips look like they were made for this. There’s no pressure, you don’t even have to make me cum yet."

That helped Kyubin regain clarity of mind a little bit. It wasn't like he'd never made anyone feel good by doing this before. He had successfully turned soft cocks hard with his mouth, and he made at least one person cum from it. Granted, the headspace he was in was much different then, but that didn't mean he couldn’t recall what he did well and replicate it. He would be slow and methodical, and wouldn’t attempt to perform a practice round of something he was good at only in his imagination. Unlike that time, he was sober now, mindful of his physical presence and the details of how it interacted with another body.

He carefully traced the sharp edges of his teeth with his tongue. As his thumb moved up the shaft along a protruding vein, he tried to imagine how exactly he would have to part his jaws and curl his lips to guarantee they don't graze any oversensitive skin. Once he memorized enough to make sure Yoojung would go unharmed, he tried to get himself to move, but his hand was the only part of him that got the signal. As it moved up and down with unchanging pressure, he realized how silly he must look to Yoojung while helplessly moving his tongue around in his mouth as it grew drier and drier.

He didn't realize how viciously he'd been gnawing at his lips until Yoojung's thumb gently parted them and pressed a memory of a kiss to them. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Kyubin nodded slowly. "I have."

"Do you have a favorite memory? Better yet, a favorite person in your memory?"

Kyubin couldn’t recall any of the times it went well anymore. All he could see was him. "I… I guess."

"Then just imagine I'm him," Yoojung suggested, and Kyubin froze even more. "Think about how easy it felt once you got into it. Remember how much you wanted him and how much he wanted you. You can recreate what you did, or you can reframe it, do it however you like. Make him jealous that I’m the one who has you right now."

Kyubin's breathing got shakier as the memories began to push to the forefront of his mind and play a harrowing slideshow. The unstoppable want that made him drop to his knees onto the hard floor and close his mouth around the beautiful cock of a beautiful man; the shivers that the gentle and encouraging hand on the back of his head sent through him; the eagerness to prove he was worth so much more than just one night, that he wanted all of him and deserved all of him. And then, a split second of petrifying sobriety as he was shoved away and glanced up to meet a look of nothing but disdain.

This is just another step of getting to know each other, Yoojung's voice repeated in his head. Even if it's not very good, we'll get more shots at making it better. And yet, kneeling before Yoojung who definitely had been imagining someone else in Kyubin’s place this whole time, it felt like all or nothing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, take a moment, breathe. It’s okay if you don’t want to do this."

"No," the word tore itself out of Kyubin. "I want to. I want to do this." To prove his words, he finally put his mouth around Yoojung's cock. The sticky, semi-sweet trail Yoojung left on his tongue was a welcome bit of moisture in his otherwise dry mouth, and almost as an afterthought to how grateful he was to get a taste, he realized Yoojung was right. He couldn’t breathe.

His lips parted automatically to catch more air than his nose was willing to take in. He felt Yoojung try to pry off his fingers off his cock, and only then did he realize how much force he'd been gripping him with. He let go, lightheaded and nauseous, and watched Yoojung tuck himself back into his underwear. Useless. All of him, useless. Undeserving. Worthless.

His hands grabbed onto the legs of Yoojung’s pants to preserve a physical proof of his presence in Kyubin’s orbit. Even then, barely able to form a coherent thought, he desperately scoured his mind for ways to prove to Yoojung he was better than this. He knew he couldn't do it in this state. His throat was closing up, his vision blurred, and every sound felt like it came from far away, as if his head had been submerged in water while the spiraling thoughts pushed him further down into the depths.

"It’s okay," Yoojung’s muffled voice reached him before he could even think to utter an apology. "Tell me what you need, please."

Air. You. "I… water."

"Okay, yeah, I'll bring you water. Just, um. Let go of my pants first."

Kyubin stayed frozen until the meaning of Yoojung’s words made sense, then unclenched the material from his hold and grabbed the seat of the couch. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the cushion so the space forming between him and Yoojung felt less vast. Being submerged in water seemed like a better alternative to this, to feeling stifled in his own body, his own clothes. He fanned his shirt to let some air in, as if that would help oxygen reach his lungs and fill them up in a way that satisfied the demand.

It felt both like an hour and a couple seconds until he heard, "Here you go."

The sensation against his palm was pleasantly cold, and so was the liquid filling his mouth, a contrast to how overheated he felt. When a drop of water ran down his chin and sank into his shirt, he thought this must be how a fish born without gills feels. Oddly enough, that image made his next inhale a bit deeper. He had lungs, and there was air all around him. He could breathe.

"I’m sorry," he choked out, dread audible in his voice. "I’m so, so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it’s not your fault. Come up here." Yoojung patted the seat next to himself. "Or, wait, would you prefer to lie down?" He quickly shot up and placed a cushion in the corner.

Kyubin shook his head weakly, willing his irregular breaths to even out while his pulse continued hammering in his ears, and jerked his body out of its stupor to stand up. He was being asked to stay. He could still salvage this.

He couldn't force himself to look at Yoojung’s face as he took a seat next to him. All he could do was keep his eyes cast down onto the glass which he held as tightly as if it was the most precious gift he’d ever received. When he saw Yoojung's hand move closer in his peripheral vision, he expected his chin to be forced up, but Yoojung stopped before making contact with his body.

"Your shirt is, like, really tight. No wonder you have trouble breathing. I’ll undo a few buttons, okay?" His voice was an odd mix of flirty and something more apprehensive. Kyubin gave him a nod, and simply staring at how Yoojung’s hands interacted with his clothes made him feel a bit more centered. He gulped down the rest of the water and felt Yoojung put his hand on his knee, then take it away immediately. "Sorry, I don’t actually know what to do. We should definitely pause for tonight and resume some other time, right?"

"No, no, we can do this," Kyubin rushed to say. "I’ll be fine in a minute, I promise. I just- yeah, one minute." He set the glass down on the coffee table, and the clink it made when it came into contact with the surface sounded too loud against the silence that proceeded. As his heart slowly returned to its normal rate, the reality of the situation dawned on him in all of its petrifying detail. He had a panic attack over sucking dick. It was much milder than the ones he used to get, but still, it was possibly the most ridiculous and humiliating thing that ever happened to him. Stumbling over his words while giving a speech and becoming a laughing stock at work would have been preferable to this.

"So," Yoojung broke the silence after a tense moment. "Overall, pretty stressful day, huh?"

"Yeah, marginally," Kyubin attempted a joke. He sighed heavily, closed his eyes and leaned back against the soft backrest, hoping he could drown into it and never have to face Yoojung again. Maybe he could become a piece of furniture in Yoojung's flat and get to be around him every single day, useful and supplementary.

Yoojung cleared his throat. "So, um. Tell me, did I misread something? Did you feel like you had to do it just because I did it for you?" His tone was gentle and patient, and the tight knot in Kyubin’s stomach loosened a bit. Yoojung wasn't an audience of white-collars he desperately needed to impress. He was just Yoojung, the same Yoojung who wanted to taste his cum so much that he blurted things out without a filter.

"No. No, I genuinely did want to do this, but…" He laughed tiredly. "I told you, didn't I? The more I want something, the more badly it goes. And last time was… it was awful. I messed it up completely. Just like tonight, I guess. I’m sorry. You wanted something simple, and I couldn't even give you this one thing."

"No, I should be the one apologizing to you for making you relive awful memories. I'm sorry. I thought I was helping you relax, not- I mean, you looked so tense, so I wanted to make it better. But the thing I wanted the most was to give you a night you wouldn't stress about. So I guess this time, I’m the one who messed up completely."

Kyubin risked a glance at his face. There was no disappointment there. There was concern, which wasn't nearly as bad, but still not something Kyubin wished to make him feel. Especially not during a night like this. "No, you didn't mess anything up. Please, don't feel responsible for any of this."

"Fine, but only if you don’t feel responsible, either." His hand hesitated in the air before resting on Kyubin's head, and Kyubin leaned into the soothing touch, eyes falling shut, thoughts melting away more and more with each caress. "See, you can relax around me. Why does the perspective of having sex with me stress you out so much?"

"Because I know how it always ends for me," Kyubin said tensely, clutching the couch seat with sweaty palms. "The one who was my favorite wasn’t all that different from everyone else, but he got the closest to making me feel how you do. I guess I was in a more romantic mood the night I met him. I wanted to- I tried to make him want me enough to get a second night with him, and I failed."

"I want a second night," Yoojung whispered. "Bad sex or no sex, I’d still want more of you."

"Why though? Why, even after all of this?"

"Because I care about you more than I care about getting laid, simple as that. No matter how much I want to fuck your brains out, our friendship comes first, and that isn't gonna change so easily."

Kyubin hid his face in the crook of Yoojung's neck. "But I want to change it. I want to satisfy you. I want you to see me as someone who can satisfy you."

Yoojung began to stroke down his back, fingers drawing small circles, as if he wanted this suggestion of a massage to loosen every part of Kyubin which still felt tense. "That’s too big of an undertaking for one night. We agreed tonight would be about getting to know each other better, nothing more, yeah? I have no doubt you can satisfy me once you’re more familiar with my body, and it's okay if it takes some time."

Kyubin exhaled the remaining distress and pressed his nose to Yoojung's bare skin. He had no energy to dwell on every way in which he felt frustrated with himself, not when the warmth spreading from each touch encouraged all negativity to seep out of him and be replaced by tranquility. "I got way too invested in how tonight played out in my imagination. I should have just listened to you from the start. I’m sorry, I wish I could be more like the guys you've had here before."

Yoojung made a confused sound. "I sure as fuck don’t wish for that."

Kyubin frowned. "But you said you wanted tonight to be like what you’re used to."

"Right, I did say that." He sounded almost ashamed, and Kyubin wasn’t sure how to interpret it. "At the time, it made sense to me, cause I figured, what are we gonna do? We’ll just grope each other for a bit to relieve the tension. Cause, you know, I don't usually take sex very seriously. It’s not really an emotional experience for me, so what you described sounded a bit unrealistic."

Unrealistic. Complicated. In hindsight, it seemed like Yoojung was against the idea merely because Kyubin didn't know how to convey what he meant clearly enough. To test the waters, he said, "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, I wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just the way you said it, it reminded me of- Nevermind. It wasn't about you." His touch disappeared from Kyubin's back, but returned in the form of holding his hands. "I also have stuff I don’t really wanna be reminded of tonight, but it’s nothing stressful. So, come on, take revenge on me. Force me to confront what I’m trying to avoid."

Kyubin still wasn't sure whether they were of the same mind about what that thing was, but he knew that the only way he could give Yoojung a better ending to the night would be if he had certainty that Yoojung’s want stemmed from a similar place as his own. "I know we can't just block out our memories and pretend our respective histories don't exist, but to me, tonight is just about you. I don't want to think about anyone else. I don't want you to think about anyone else, either."

"I'm not," Yoojung assured immediately. "I mean, not in the way you're implying. I want you, I want to be here with you and nobody else. Being with you is really easy."

Kyubin couldn’t help but laugh. "How is any of this easy?"

"Okay, maybe easy isn’t the best word, but… you were right when you said trust brings about something special. It feels nice to care. It feels nice to spend time with you no matter what we’re doing. You know, I’m- I’m not usually this relaxed about having sex with someone new for the first time."

Kyubin soaked in this kernel of vulnerability as he watched Yoojung’s thumbs tracing circles around his knuckles, replicating the way Kyubin had touched him before. Every touch, past and present, felt more meaningful all of a sudden, more tender and sincere. Regardless of his fatigue, his body started taking notice and appreciating how incredibly shirtless Yoojung was. Each inhale of his body scent made his breathing grow heavier, and he watched with interest as goosebumps formed on Yoojung's skin. Somewhere beneath that skin hid a feeling that made Yoojung want him there, in his arms, slowly regaining a sense of inner calm. Somewhere beneath his own skin, Kyubin felt that everything that led him to this moment had been worth it.

At last, he voiced the nagging question, "So you don't mind that I'm trying to complicate this with my feelings?"

"I feel things too, you know," Yoojung whispered. "Complicated things that I have no idea how to navigate."

Kyubin placed one hand on his waist, and heard a hitch in his breath. "The more we complicate it, the simpler it feels to me. Like when we held each other by the door. That felt good and really simple."

"Yeah, I enjoyed it too. Too bad that’s not how sex can feel all the time, huh?"

Kyubin reluctantly raised his head from its new favorite resting spot to meet Yoojung's eyes. "Why not?"

"Because… that wasn’t sex," Yoojung said slowly, like it was so obvious that he wasn't sure why he had to explain it. All the while, his fingers drew abstract patterns on Kyubin's palm, and each line felt just as intimate as his mouth around Kyubin's cock did.

Kyubin looked down to watch another spiral form; calming, instinctive, electrifying. "Then what was it?"

Yoojung shrugged. "A hug. A break to cool off."

"It didn’t cool me off. It made me want to have you even closer."

Yoojung's fingers halted, and his pupils tentatively jumped back and forth between Kyubin's eyes. "I know, I felt it." After a hesitant moment, he leaned forward to rest his cheek against Kyubin's chest, hands coming up to rest on Kyubin’s back, and Kyubin's arms closed around him without needing to be told to.

He didn’t know holding someone in his arms could be charged with so much pleasant tension. The lights were still on, they were both mostly clothed, their lower bodies weren't even in contact, and yet, every breath that touched his skin through the gap between the panels of his shirt fueled the buzz inside. He knew Yoojung could hear his heart hammer in his chest as he cradled his head closer and whispered, "If this isn't sex, then it must be something better."

To gauge whether Yoojung felt the same, he brushed his temple with his lips and moved downward, along his cheekbone and jawline as Yoojung's hands grabbed onto his shirt tightly. He kissed the pulse point on his neck and stayed there to feel the tempo while the need to have every inch of Yoojung all to himself grew ever stronger. To be allowed a moment like this, a pause, a few heartbeats of silence, it felt good. It felt like all the barriers between them disappeared.

Yoojung turned his head to kiss him, hungry and forceful. Kyubin held the back of his neck to keep him from getting away as he returned the kiss with the same enthusiasm, and Yoojung's soft sigh sounded like he was starting to understand what Kyubin had meant.

When they reluctantly separated, Yoojung kept his eyes closed, his brows drawn in a slight frown as he whispered, "Why does this feel so different?"

Kyubin could have sat there with him for as long as it took to fully understand what exactly he meant by this and different, but maybe Yoojung wasn’t sure what he meant, either. Maybe Kyubin just had to answer and hope they both felt more than they understood. "To me, this feels the same as talking with you does. No matter how awkward things get or how nervous I am, I want to do whatever it takes to feel closer to you, and… it feels really good when you let me."

Yoojung kissed him, softly, slowly. "Liar. You know exactly how to be romantic about this." The smile with which he said it stopped Kyubin from uttering another apology.

"I really don’t," he said quietly. "I’m not even sure how to explain what I want from you. I thought just getting to touch you would be enough, but I guess I got greedy along the way."

"If this is what you call being greedy, then go ahead, be as greedy as you like. List some things you want to happen tonight. Go."

"I want to see your bedroom," Kyubin declared immediately. "Or, no, not see. What I mean is that I want to be in your bed with you. And, uh. About that whole scale of seduction, maybe it would be better if you dialed down from a hundred back to ninety. It’s just a really big shift from the you I’m used to, so… to steal your words, I’m not sure how to navigate it."

"Yeah, okay. I’ll dial back, no problem." He took a deep breath, and Kyubin got the impression he wasn't actually all that keen on agreeing.

"Am I asking for too much?"

"No, not at all." He stared at his fingers while playing with Kyubin’s collar. When he looked up at Kyubin’s face again, there was a new sense of determination in his eyes. "I'll try my best for you. You're- yeah. I want this with you."

Kyubin smiled as he held his gaze, aware that he looked as relieved as he did fond. "Okay." They stared at each other for a moment in silence until Kyubin asked, "So, should we head to your bed now, or…?"

Yoojung blinked, and then quickly stood up, pulling him along by the hand. "Yeah, absolutely. I got a little thrown off my game, but no worries, I’ll get back up to ninety in no time."

"You can be at ninety, nineteen or even nine if you like," Kyubin told him while Yoojung opened the door to his bedroom.

"If I was at nine, I’d settle for eye-fucking you from a distance, and I think we both agree we wanna be a little closer than that tonight."

Yoojung turned on his desktop lamp, and the warm glow revealed a cramped room with a single bed taking up almost half the floor. Though he didn’t seem to share Kyubin’s sentiment about the charm of living in such a place, the care he put into every square inch was apparent. The whole room was neat and homely, down to the decorative details - a simple painting of sea waves on the wall, a row of stuffed animal plushies on a shelf, impressively well-maintained plants on the windowsill, the curtains and sheets a matching shade of yellow. It was cozy, inviting, and so incredibly Yoojung.

"Do you sleep with these?" Kyubin pointed to the plushies.

Yoojung snapped his head to look at the shelf. "Oh, that. Not really. Sometimes. Should I move them somewhere else for this, is this weird to you?"

"No, why would it be? They look like they'd be nice to hug. I had this little blue elephant as a kid that always gave me the most peaceful sleep when it joined me in my bed. Wouldn't you know it, my insomnia started not long after I stopped sleeping with it. Maybe I wouldn't be so stressed out all the time if I just got a plushie to sleep with."

"Yeah, they've got that magical way of bringing comfort when nothing else does. Actually, you know what," he walked up to them and turned them around one by one so their eyes faced the wall, "now their innocence won't be corrupted and we'll have privacy."

A sudden surge in affection pushed Kyubin to cross the space between them and weaved his fingers through Yoojung's hair. Under Yoojung’s inquisitive stare, he let go to watch the pretty locks fall around his face, and then tucked them behind his ears. He did this to a man with even longer hair once, and quickly had to apologize with his lips and tongue for making the atmosphere awkward. With tender gestures no longer out of place, his fingers followed a bleached strand right until the curling end. His heart, so starved of warmth and meaning, finally began to fill up.

Yoojung didn't move, and his eyes continued searching Kyubin's face. Whatever he was looking for must have been written plainly in whatever form Kyubin's features took, because his eyes fell shut, chin raised in a silent request. The chaste kiss Kyubin pressed to the corner of his mouth was the final goodbye to things he didn’t wish to revisit, all the self-serving groping and sharp teeth leaving stinging lips, taking and taking and leaving him in ache for something always out of reach, something he felt in the shape of Yoojung's smile against his.

It didn't take long for the kiss to turn deeper while staying deliciously slow. Without anything to support himself, Kyubin had to actively remind his legs how to stand, which became severely more difficult when Yoojung teased his lips with the tip of his tongue and tugged his hair at the same time, drawing a quiet groan out of him. He would have felt more self-conscious about it if it didn’t come with the reward of having that done to him again and again until his knees went weak, and only Yoojung’s quick reflexes kept him upright.

"Lay down," Yoojung instructed without moving his mouth away.

One step backwards was enough to feel the mattress against the back of his knees which gave out in an instant, allowing him to fall into the safeness of Yoojung's bed. He settled back, comforted by the familiar pillow supporting his head. The bed wasn't as soft as his own and significantly less spacious, but he wasn’t picky; the knowledge that he’d get to lay there as many times as it took to miss the luxury of an expensive mattress meant that it was as close to perfect as a bed could get.

Yoojung discarded his pants before kneeling over him, and Kyubin immediately reached for his thighs, so much slimmer than they seemed while he had loose-fitting pants on. Yoojung took his hands and guided them up slowly, over his hips and the material partially covering them, and let go once they settled on his waist. Had Kyubin not been drained of so much energy, he might have acted on the impulse to wrap his arms around Yoojung and hold him until they both came in their underwear. The mental image made him want to act on it even more, but he was stopped when Yoojung placed his palms flat on his chest and pressed him into the mattress.

"I’ll take care of everything, okay? Your only job is to relax and tell me if something doesn’t feel right."

Protests against such blatant laziness pushed at Kyubin's lips, but they all faded when Yoojung smiled. It was a hesitant smile, maybe even a little forced, and it seemed like a hint that he shouldn't refuse. Yoojung gave him the trust Kyubin had asked for, so it only made sense to return it and believe that passivity wouldn’t make him less desirable in Yoojung's eyes. "Okay," he said in the most calming voice he could muster. "Do whatever you want to me."

Yoojung bit his lower lip. "Oh, you don't wanna know what just went through my mind."

"Good call. Keep it a surprise."

Yoojung’s expression softened, and he moved Kyubin’s fringe away from his eyes. "Enough surprises for you today. Tell me, what are you in the mood for?"

Everything that came to mind revolved around simply holding Yoojung close, so to expand his imagination a bit, he asked, "What do you like to do when you've got someone in your bed for the first time?"

Yoojung didn't have to think long. "Anything that ends with an orgasm."

"Right, that does sound good. You can make the decision since you’re the one in charge. My one request is that whatever we do, I’ll be able to keep kissing you."

"That rules out finishing what I already started." He pursed his lips, and then brightened up. "Can I show you how I got off yesterday?"

It took Kyubin a moment to fully understand what he was being offered. "Yes," he said a little too loudly. "Yes, please. So, am I meant to just… watch?"

"Showing you how I got off means touching you in the same way. You know, lubed up hand and all."

"Oh," Kyubin felt a little breathless, but this time not because of distress. "Okay, yeah, that sounds nice. Really nice."

Yoojung looked like he was fighting off a wider smile. "I've had your dick in my mouth already, and you're getting this excited by thinking about it being in my hand?"

Kyubin shrugged. "I’ve been sucked off against a door in the dark before. I've never been shown how someone likes to touch themself, especially knowing that they did it last night, here, thinking about me."

"I see I’m taking your virginity in many different ways." He immediately shook his head and cast his eyes down while tucking a strand of hair that came loose behind his ear. "Sorry, that was weird. You’re sure you don't mind it being so low-key? Cause we could do a whole bunch of other stuff, if you prefer."

"No, I like this. It’s simple, and it lets us build up to other stuff." It didn’t escape his attention that Yoojung seemed unusually flustered over certain things he said. It was odd to observe these cracks in his usual confidence solely over a few ungracefully chosen words. "Can I say something that will undoubtedly sound sappy?"

"Yeah, of course you can."

"I think your smile turns me on sometimes. Not even imagining your smile in certain situations, just your smile on its own."

Yoojung raised his eyebrows, but he seemed a bit more relaxed than before. He sat down on Kyubin's thighs, and his hands started moving up and down his torso. "I like how you look at me whenever I smile. Honestly, I should’ve guessed that’s the star of your fantasies about me."

"Really? Am I that obvious?"

Yoojung leaned down to peck his lips. "In the best way possible," he said before moving his focus to Kyubin’s ear to gently nip it and soothe the sting with his tongue.

With all worries in his mind silenced and nothing to do but relax and receive, Kyubin allowed his eyes to fall shut and let every sensation wash over him while arousal battled exhaustion. He felt Yoojung unbutton his pants, but then his hands returned to higher regions and began opening his shirt, lips marking every newly revealed spot with a kiss. Gone was the impulsive groping; each touch was unhurried, careful and measured.

Kyubin opened his eyes to watch him at work, not wanting to miss a single second. It was one thing to take his sweet time kissing and undressing Yoojung and another thing entirely to have it done to him, especially since he knew how impatient Yoojung’s hands could be. It wasn't just Yoojung, though. He couldn't recall a time anybody put this much time and attention into taking all the layers off him. He was used to rushing to get everything off quickly, tripping over pant legs and tearing off buttons.

Even after his shirt found its way onto the floor, Yoojung remained slow and subtle. His fingers caressed the crevices between muscles, and their light pressure sent tremors of contentment through Kyubin's body. Sometimes, he would stop kissing, licking and biting to exhale hotly through his mouth, and that warmth spread everywhere, making even the sensation of Yoojung’s hair tickling him exciting. He couldn't bite back the soft moan when Yoojung’s hand accidentally brushed his cock as he went to tuck his hair behind his ear, and when Yoojung rubbed his cheek against his stomach, it looked and felt like an intentional response. Everything about these slow caresses and comfortable silences brimmed with meaning.

"You have a mosquito bite on your hip," Yoojung said suddenly, then looked up at Kyubin with an accusatory look on his face. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"What?"

"Did you let a mosquito give you a hickey before me?"

Kyubin laughed. "No, it didn't have my consent. You do."

Yoojung moved his attention over to Kyubin's other hip where he pressed a gentle kiss before sucking the skin between his lips in a way that made Kyubin’s cock twitch, demanding to be touched until he was spent and fulfilled. He cradled the back of Yoojung's head to keep him there, like this, delicate and subtle, igniting even the skin he had yet to reach. Yoojung kept their eyes locked as he bit down gently and released the skin with a wet pop. "Take that, stupid mosquito."

The discomfort of having his erection trapped beneath two layers of material started to make itself known, and thankfully, Yoojung didn't waste any more time before lowering himself between his legs. "Can I take your pants off now?"

Kyubin nodded without hesitation, but still tensed up when Yoojung pulled the pants down around his thighs, leaving his underwear on. Despite how exhilarating the prospect of his naked skin touching the sheets that hugged Yoojung to sleep every night was, his body felt alarmed by the abnormal occurrence of being completely sober while naked in a brand new place.

"Fuck, I forgot to put music on." Yoojung’s voice snapped him back to the present moment. "I was thinking about it, and then you distracted me with the plushies. Is that a good idea, do you think? I mean, I like to have music on, but some guys find it cheesy."

"With your taste, I highly doubt it will be. I really enjoyed what you played at the café."

Yoojung got off the bed and began taking off his underwear. "There’s not much overlap between that playlist and the one I made for these sorts of occasions."

"Really?" Kyubin asked, allowing his eyes to enjoy the sight of everything that Yoojung's naked body had to offer. "I thought those songs were pretty sensual."

"And romantic," Yoojung sent him a smile over his shoulder while grabbing his phone off the desk. "Which I guess is fitting for tonight."

Kyubin kept studying the lines of Yoojung’s body, trying to pin down what feeling it evoked, hidden underneath the obvious. It was a familiar feeling, but in a hazy, distant way. The more he looked, the clearer it became that this wasn't unlike what he felt when he first saw Yoojung from the opposite side of the street, and then once again, when he saw him up close. It was a sentiment that this man’s beauty was crafted for something bigger, something that went deeper than attraction to pretty features.

Watching him rummage through his bedside drawer and fish out a bottle of lube, Kyubin realized exactly what the root of all this was. The warm lights and soft shadows that suffused Yoojung's silhouette made for a captivating sight, and every color surrounding him looked like it had been deliberately picked to enhance how Kyubin felt about him; from the yellow walls and dark brown furniture to Yoojung's platinum hair. After so many years of artistic drought, Kyubin's fingers itched to pick up a brush and attempt to express everything he felt as he looked at Yoojung standing there, humming along to the melody coming from his phone with traces of Kyubin's affection written on his body.

But attempting to transfer his feelings onto canvas wasn’t what mattered to him the most at that moment. What truly mattered was that he no longer felt like an admiring nobody watching an awe-inspiring masterpiece from a safe distance. Yoojung had never been a two-dimensional picture in a frame with a Do not touch sign hanging underneath, but now, Kyubin couldn’t doubt where they stood. Yoojung was there, next to him, right at his fingertips, aroused, kind and beautiful. And Kyubin could try to be this beautiful in his eyes, too.

While Yoojung’s attention was on wiping the excess lube off his hand with a tissue, Kyubin took off the rest of his clothes quickly and focused on the cracks in paint on the ceiling so he didn't have to read Yoojung's face when he looked his way.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and then Yoojung was on him again. "Hey, relax." He touched Kyubin's cheek and smiled. "You okay?"

Kyubin nuzzled against his hand. "Yeah, I'm okay." He brought Yoojung's face closer so he could absorb some of his assuredness into his own system, kissing him all through the first touch of his hand. The smooth coating of lube didn’t provide the kind of pressure he was used to, but one glance at the sight of himself in Yoojung's hand was enough to drive him insane. He knew this hand well, he had held it and traced its edges, he’d been reassured by its gentle squeezes and knew how these fingers fit between his. No physical barrier would have lessened the intimacy of having that hand sliding up and down his cock, dedicated to bringing him sensations unlike any before.

"How does it feel?" Yoojung asked, his eyes attentively reading Kyubin's face and body. "Good?"

Kyubin clenched the bedclothes in his fists so he wouldn’t accidentally grab Yoojung too hard. "Yeah. Yeah, it's good."

"Is the tempo okay?"

Kyubin brought him down to kiss him, just because he needed to communicate to Yoojung that he had no thoughts left beyond how good it felt to have him this close. Every breath he took was a shared one, filled to the brim with scents that added spice and salt to the sweetness spread over his taste buds, and every titillating sound Yoojung made against his lips harmonized with the sultry song playing in the background; and just like that, he was completely surrounded with all of his favorite things, because everything about Yoojung was his favorite. "Please, do it- do it however you like."

"Okay," Yoojung whispered against his cheek. "So, um. Here’s something I really enjoy."

Kyubin was very glad Yoojung’s head was blocking his vision, because when he felt Yoojung press their cocks together, it elicited a moan so loud that his whole body shuddered in humiliation. His hand shot up to cover his mouth in case it were to repeat, but Yoojung forced it away and intertwined their fingers. "Do it again."

"I don't-"

"Don't hold back, please. I wanna know how it feels, I wanna hear everything."

His hand continued moving slowly, helping Kyubin familiarize himself with the intensity of perceiving Yoojung like this, sensitive skin to sensitive skin, stroked in the same rhythm. Sober self-awareness was no competition to the bliss flaring up and coursing through him, increasing with every skilful touch, every earnest kiss, every whispered encouragement. Yoojung knew exactly when to adjust the pressure and the tempo to build up the eagerness in them both, but also to drag out the inevitable, savor each other for just a moment longer.

So when his grip became tighter and he moaned into Kyubin’s mouth, Kyubin allowed his pleasure to become apparent as well, even if Yoojung's neighbors hated the sound of it.

"Fuck, look at you," Yoojung said, voice laced with heat, and then kissed Kyubin’s parted lips til they tingled and every held back sound filled the air between them. He pulled his mouth away after a moment, pupils dark and wide as he took in the sight of Kyubin panting under him. There was a glint in his eye as he said, "You’re such a walking wet dream, you know that?"

"Yeah?" Kyubin gasped out. "Did you have any about me?"

"One or two, yeah. I mostly daydream about you." He rested his forehead against Kyubin’s temple as he muttered, "I've got literally nothing better to do at work, I just imagine what you look like when you exit the shower and what you do to yourself when you're alone. I had some really awkward interactions with customers when they startled me out of a fantasy about your pubic hair." He laughed dryly against Kyubin’s cheek. "Why the fuck am I telling you this? I’ll stop rambling before it kills your hard-on."

"No, I like what you've got to say. Keep talking." He didn't think his words were anything significant, but all of a sudden, Yoojung's whole body went completely still. It was only for a second or two, short enough not to send Kyubin into panic over where exactly he went wrong. When his hand resumed its slow rubbing, the other pressed Kyubin's hand intertwined with itself firmly into the pillow. His breaths had been heavy before, but now they sounded shakier, like he was trying very hard to keep quiet. Kyubin didn’t have the emotional capacity to worry and second-guess himself anymore. The simplest explanation was that his words were something precious that Yoojung wanted to handle carefully, and if so, that’s what Kyubin would treat him like in return.

He brushed Yoojung’s thumb with his own to get him to loosen the grip, while his previously idle arm wrapped around Yoojung’s waist. When he could slip his hand out of the hold, he sneaked it between their bodies and covered Yoojung’s with it; not to take control of the tempo, but to share in the rhythm Yoojung dictated. "You can say whatever comes to your mind," he whispered into Yoojung’s hair. "I mean it. All of it makes me feel good."

The pleasurable friction disappeared as Yoojung let go of their cocks and moved Kyubin’s hand out of the way, then quickly interlocked their fingers once more and pressed his pelvis down, successfully melting away any unwarranted doubts. The slick and hot sensation of their bodies sliding together made Kyubin’s mind blissfully blank, more and more with each controlled roll of Yoojung’s hips, bringing him thrill after thrill, filling his head with the scent of Yoojung’s sweat and creating a loop of nothing but Yoojung’s name.

In a voice that sounded so husky and alluring right next to his ear, Yoojung panted, "I think about you every night. Sometimes I just replay our interactions over and over in my head until I fall asleep. I like to think about the moments when I knew you wanted to do something to me but didn't, and I fantasize about all the things that might’ve gone through your head. There are so many ways I imagined this would go, but you still manage to surprise me. How do you do it? How do you always know what to say to make me feel like this?"

"Like what?"

Yoojung kissed him as his movements sped up, eliciting an eager moan out of both of them. "Like this." The gentle brush of his lips against Kyubin’s own sent tingles all over his body, adding to every sensation building inside him. "Good, so good."

"Yeah, you- you too," Kyubin told him, feeling the build up nearing its end. "You’re so good. You make me feel so good."

"You deserve it, you hear me? You deserve to feel this good, and even better than this." The moment Kyubin felt Yoojung’s hand closing over the head of his cock was also the moment Yoojung said, "You deserve to cum so hard that when I feel it, I’ll have no other choice, I’ll cum right away."

Every pleasant thing that had been gathering inside of Kyubin escalated rapidly until he was filled with pure fulfillment, heady and white-hot. The ecstasy didn’t stop there, because once he came back to full awareness of the man enveloping him from all sides, he felt Yoojung harden against him, and then heard him exhale a deeply satisfied, "Fuck yeah."

He kept his eyes closed as they caught their breaths and the high mellowed down. Some unsatiated part of him wanted to propel his hands to move and explore, memorize the lines Yoojung was made up of, but the rest of him was adamant that he shouldn’t move a single muscle so as to not provoke Yoojung to move away.

The music grew in volume as his perception of immediate surroundings began to expand to include the world beyond the two of them, forcing him to take notice of Yoojung’s elbow digging into his side and their cum gathering on his stomach as it dripped down from Yoojung’s hand. He still didn’t want to move. The weight of Yoojung’s body encompassed every inch of him with a deep sense of tranquility, and no physical discomfort could have changed that.

Yoojung also didn’t try to move; only his chest rose and fell at a gradually slower rate as one song ended and another began. His silence and inactivity felt like proof that the joy filling Kyubin from head to toe was mutual, and that broke his resolve not to move. He pressed his lips to Yoojung's warm cheeks, his nose, his forehead, brushed them gently across his closed eyelids and finished by letting their smiling lips meet one more time, hoping his kiss conveyed both a thank you and a promise of something better.

Once Yoojung opened his eyes, he asked, "Want your clothes back on?"

Kyubin shrugged lazily. "It's warm."

"True." Yoojung brought his cum-covered hand closer to his face and gave it a rueful look. "So, I forgot to move my hand out of the way, and now we’ve got a bit of a mixed cum situation. A cocktail, if you will."

"You’ll get to taste me some other time," Kyubin promised through a soft laugh.

"I’ll hold you to that." He carelessly wiped his hand on the sheets and sighed contentedly as he settled his head on Kyubin’s shoulder while Kyubin’s arms surrounded him. "How you feeling?"

Kyubin inhaled all the scents mixing between them, some of them musky, some fresh, some pleasantly spicy; the essence of a perfect summer night. His body reminded him what usually followed a satisfying orgasm – a nice, long, pleasantly warming drag of nicotine into his lungs, but all he needed was to nuzzle Yoojung's head to get a whiff, and the itch was curbed. The relaxed post-climax atmosphere made him wish he could stay awake for the whole night, but his eyelids felt heavy, and they drooped lower as exhaustion crashed on him. "I feel like everything is okay," he mumbled. "With me, with us, with the world."

Yoojung pecked him on the shoulder. "Everything’s definitely not okay with the world, but we get to feel like it is for a moment. Everything’s okay in this room." He raised his head to meet Kyubin's eyes as he asked, "You wanna sleep?"

"I don’t want to, but I’m afraid I need to. What hour is it?"

"Probably around eight, but no hour is too early to pass out like this."

Kyubin forced his eyelids to stay open long enough to get a good look at Yoojung's drowsy face – the smudged eyeshadow, the dark eyelashes contrasting with his bleached eyebrows, the small upturn of his lips. "You’re better at bringing me to bliss than hot chocolate was," he confessed.

Yoojung snorted quietly. "High praise, thanks. It wasn't really ultimate though, was it? I think we can do better. Some other time though, I'm-" a yawn interrupted him. "Yeah, exactly, I'm that."

Kyubin mirrored the yawn and gave into the fatigue setting in, closing his eyes as melodic synths and sensual vocals kept floating through the speaker. Yoojung laid his head down again, letting Kyubin relish the sensations of his soft cheek, warm breath and tickling eyelashes right over his heart.

"We’re not getting up, are we?" Yoojung asked.

"I hope not. Why? Would you like to wash up?"

"No, I wanna doze off like this and feel disgusting in the morning."

Kyubin sighed, already regretting what he was about to say. "I may not know much about makeup, but I know that sleeping in it isn't something you should do. Plus, someone should probably turn off the light. And the music."

"Shit, you’re right." Reluctantly, Yoojung rolled off him. "Gotta take care of that energy bill."

Once the light was off and Kyubin’s eyes had yet to adjust to darkness, the faint glow of streetlights and hum of traffic seemed a little too similar to what surrounded him almost every single night to be comforting. Then Yoojung’s footsteps joined the soundscape, and Kyubin quickly moved closer to the wall and raised the bed cover to invite him underneath.

Yoojung layed down with his arms spread wide. "Come here." Kyubin placed his head in the crook of his neck, and Yoojung threw his leg over his waist. As Kyubin’s hand rested between his shoulder blades, he felt a lock of hair tickle his fingertips, and he put his remaining energy into playing with it.

Yoojung's smile bloomed against his forehead. "I’m really glad this happened tonight, not the first night you tried to hit on me. I think it’s better we took some time to get here. Thank you for being… you know. You."

"That's what I should be saying," Kyubin murmured, already falling into the serene embrace of sleep. "Thank you for being you."

Notes:

Oh boy, this chapter sure took a while. I wanted to be blasphemous and post it around Christmas, but then it turned out I had a lot more to add. I’m genuinely so grateful to everyone who comments that you don’t mind waiting for new chapters. It’s comforting to know there are people interested in this story enough to return to it even if it takes months to update. This fic is a lesson in writing long-form stories for me, so even though my vision for the plot is pretty solid, I still trip up over where certain elements of the development should happen, and that has especially been a problem for me in this chapter. It was a grueling process at times, but you can rest assured that no matter how frustrated I become along the way, I will finish this story.

Chapter 6: quiet shadOw

Notes:

I genuinely hope this is the last author's note where I have to apologize for how long I took to update, I have no idea how all these months passed so quickly. I intended to post this in August, but I kept getting stuck on a few scenes and how to make them progress naturally. Writing character arcs is hard, man. Sincere thanks to everyone who’s still sticking around for this passion project/writing practice of mine, you guys are amazing.

I’m hesitant about mentioning this because I don’t like to spoil where a chapter is heading and also I’m not sure if this is the kind of thing that needs to come with a warning, but in this chapter and the next one there will be some intimate scenes that might be a little uncomfortable to read. Nothing non-consensual happens, but there is going to be some reluctance there which is important to their development as individuals and as a couple. Again, I’m not sure if a warning is even needed, but I don’t want anyone to feel unsettled while reading just because they didn’t know what they were getting into.

As always, I’m grateful for your patience and I hope I managed to repay all your love with good quality writing. This chapter ended up being exactly 100 pages in Google docs, so I hope it makes for a satisfying read!

Kyubin stirred from a deep sleep, aware that it wasn't his own bed he was waking up in.

This awareness was not accompanied by pain splitting his head in two nor even a light pounding in his temples. Instead, he was greeted by sensations alerting in their unfamiliarity: a cold wall against his back, a leg thrown over his, a hand on his abdomen, and slow, regular whiffs of warm air on his face.

He opened his eyes to a sight that made him pause breathing for a second, as if inhaling too suddenly would bring about a reality where this scene was nothing more than another dream he’d try to forget before the final sip of his morning coffee.

Yoojung's eyes were closed, makeup smudged all around them. His hair was a mess of locks thrown all over his half of the pillow, and a duvet covered him up to his chin. Only when a cool wind from the open window reached Kyubin did he realize that Yoojung had taken the whole duvet for himself, leaving nothing for his guest. Despite the morning chill filling the room, he was in no rush to cover himself. He'd worked too hard on this body to deny Yoojung the view. “Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to breathe out through his mouth too much. “Are you awake?”

Yoojung responded with a low grunt, to which the wave of happiness that rose up in Kyubin was wholly unproportional.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

Yoojung shifted his leg up and threw his arm over Kyubin to trap him more effectively. “Don’t you dare move,” he muttered.

Kyubin's gaze traveled down Yoojung's nose to the soft curve of his lips, and he kissed them before his mind fully caught up to his actions. Yoojung hummed and pressed closer, his thumb stroking along Kyubin's spine, and all those gentle things made Kyubin recognize everything this morning truly meant for them. His hand found its way to the back of Yoojung's head, but his attempt to deepen the kiss was met with closed lips.

“That's all you're getting for now,” Yoojung told him and kissed the tip of his nose. “I'm not horny enough to exchange mouth bacteria with you.”

Kyubin laughed. “Are you always this unromantic in the morning?”

“Mhm. Get used to it.”

Get used to it. Those simple words hit him with such joy that he had to close his eyes and calm himself before he crushed Yoojung in his arms out of gratitude. When he dared to open them, he found Yoojung watching him with a drowsy smile.

“What's going through your head?”

“Nothing,” Kyubin said, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up into a giddy smile. “I'm just happy.”

“That's not nothing.” There was something behind the affectionate tone which sounded sad.

Kyubin touched the small wrinkle forming on his forehead. “Why do you look upset?”

Yoojung's hand started caressing his back. “I regret making yesterday harder on you than it already was. I saw how stressed out you were over that speech, but I had no idea how deep that goes. Sorry, this isn't a fun thing to bring up right now, I know. I just hate that I didn’t notice you were at your limit. That can never happen again.”

Kyubin nodded. “It won’t, I promise.”

Yoojung suddenly looked fully awake. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re apologizing for the inconvenience or something. I'm saying that I never want to cause you to have another panic attack, not that I expect you to never have one again.”

“No, I know,” Kyubin said, although he wasn't sure he did know that. “But you shouldn't worry about that. I'm okay.”

“I’ll worry about whatever I want. Why didn't you tell me you get them? I mean, not that you're obligated to tell me, but-” He sighed, his concerned expression turning softer. “I hated not knowing how to help you. If you told me, at least I could've done some research.”

“It’s not that I deliberately hid it from you. I thought they were a thing of the past. I haven't had one since I moved here.”

“Shit, what?” Yoojung propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over Kyubin, momentarily distracting him from the conversation by how breathtaking he looked with yesterday's marks turned light purple on his skin. “You haven't had one in years, and now- did I bring them back?”

“No, no, it wasn't you,” Kyubin rushed to calm his worry. He really didn't want to dig into the topic so early in the day, but he couldn’t let Yoojung feel guilty about what happened. “Every panic attack I’ve ever had happened after a long period of stressing out. I used to get them right before important exams, or sometimes while studying when it all got too overwhelming. Once, it even happened during an exam.” He was grateful when Yoojung began to toy with a lock of his hair resting above his collarbone, anchoring him in the present moment. “The one yesterday wasn’t bad, comparatively. It just took me by surprise. I thought I’d never have one again.”

“So it happened because of a long period of stress?”

“No, not exactly. The stress I experience nowadays is nothing like back then. I think yesterday just brought back all the complicated feelings that have been building up inside me for years, and they were bound to culminate in an eruption of some sort. Like a human volcano, remember that?”

“Yeah, of course I remember.” Yoojung moved his hand down to Kyubin's chest, and Kyubin caught it. “I’m surprised you do.”

“How could I forget the moment when I realized I could listen to you talk for hours? See, that was another factor that went into it. This-” he gestured between them and around them, “always seemed unattainable. Last night was… cathartic. Now I feel the lightest I ever have.”

Yoojung glanced down at their hands. "Not sure I've got the right understanding of what cathartic means, but I think last night was like that for me, too. I can get really controlling sometimes, and it's fun, I like doing it, but it was nice to just… let go for once. There were a few moments yesterday when everything else faded away, and I liked that.” He hesitated before saying, “I didn’t know at first why I was so nervous, but I think it was ‘cause I was worried you’d start to behave differently out of nowhere. Like you have a hidden side that comes out only during sex or something. I don't know, it was stupid.”

Kyubin thought hard about how to respond. It was easy to tell whenever Yoojung downplayed something that had a lot of emotions attached to it. That was what Junhyung did all the time, and Kyubin was never sure when to reply humorously and when to be serious.

In the end, he decided to take a risk and joked, “I think now would be a good time to warn you that I'm saving the reveal of my hidden side for when we’re having sex for the third time.”

Yoojung’s eyes fixed on him with a look that made it difficult not to kiss him. “You’re joking, but you really should come with a warning. Right on the first day, what you should've told me was Hi, my name's Shin Kyubin and I like to make out after getting my dick sucked.”

Kyubin raised his brows. “Is that unusual?”

“I’m not saying it never happens, but apparently some people think it's gross. Like, I just did my fucking best for this guy, down to acting like swallowing his cum was the highlight of my fucking evening, and he can't even offer me the basic decency of pretending he likes that my mouth was full of him seconds ago. So then it's just like, why do I even try at all?” He groaned and hid his face in the crook of Kyubin’s neck. “Sorry, seems I have a lot of built up frustration about this.”

Kyubin kissed the top of his head. “Get it all out of your system before you blow up like a volcano.”

“Yeah, a volcano of sexual frustration blowing up sounds painful.” He nuzzled Kyubin's neck. “You like how gross I am, don't you?”

“Nothing you do or say feels gross to me,” Kyubin told him softly. “It just feels like we’re compatible.”

Yoojung pressed his face to his pec and mumbled, “Stop, I’m not used to being romanced so early in the morning.”

Kyubin’s arms sneaked around his body, which was still wrapped in a duvet. He watched the way light and shadow interacted on Yoojung's luscious locks before forcing his eyes away to look around the room.

Even in the cold morning light, it was cozy. The plushies were still facing away, the plants on the windowsill fluttered in the wind, and the painting over Yoojung's desk appeared even more vivid and detailed, as if the waves were getting ready to spill out of the frame.

"That painting is really nice. Is there a story behind it?"

There was something somber in Yoojung’s voice when he said, “There is.”

“Not one I should ask about,” Kyubin realized. “Sorry.”

With a sigh, Yoojung shifted onto his back and joined Kyubin in staring at the painting. “The story behind how it ended up on my wall is that a friend who used to dance with us was practicing landscapes for an art class. I liked this one, so she gave it to me. The story behind why I wanted it is that my grandma lived by the Yellow Sea her whole life, and I used to visit her a lot.”

“Did she pass recently?”

“No, a while back. Twelve years ago, I think. This isn’t really a reminder of her, just something she said. She told me to think of the sea whenever I needed a reminder that nothing is permanent. You know, like the waves. Ever-changing."

It seemed like a daunting reminder to have looming over one’s head at all times, but Kyubin decided it was best not to share that thought. “Does it help to remember those words when things aren’t going well?”

Yoojung shrugged. “It doesn’t solve anything, but yeah, it can be helpful. Best to keep in mind that nothing lasts for long, good or bad.” He rolled onto his side and accepted Kyubin's invitation to snuggle closer. “I wish I wasn't keeping it in mind right now. I'd rather pretend we can stay like this for the whole day.”

“Me too.” Kyubin caressed the space between Yoojung's shoulder blades as he weighed his options. “I guess I could get a day off, but I don't want to risk angering my boss even more.”

“If he gives you shit today, don't even bother focusing on what he's saying. Think about me instead.”

Kyubin chuckled. “I don't think getting turned on while my boss is giving me a tirade would be a good idea.”

“So do it even though it’s a bad idea.”

“I’m already never going to look at my desk the same, now you want to defile the mental image of my boss’ office?”

Yoojung propped himself up on his elbow to look at him. “I've been with a few men of your type. You know, white-collar job, closeted, sexually frustrated. I've noticed you can be really fixated on defiling your prim and proper lifestyle. And hey, no judgment from me, you gotta let off the steam somehow.”

“I don't think I have any fixations of the sort. If I find out I do, you'll be the first to know.”

Yoojung’s eyes narrowed. “You must have something you've always wanted to try but stopped yourself before you could go for it. A porn you wanted to click on but knew it would awaken something in you, or a fantasy you still feel guilty about, something like that.”

“Well, sure, I'm no stranger to fantasizing,” Kyubin answered evasively. “Nor feeling guilty about it.”

Yoojung put his chin on his fist, his eyes sparkling. “Go on. Tell me the nastiest one.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Aw, come on, please. I can't help you make it come true if I don't know what it is.”

“That’s… no, that's not something we should even attempt.”

Yoojung still looked curious, but gradually more apprehensive. “Why not?”

“It's nothing weird or anything, it's just…” He trailed off, feeling embarrassment creep up on him. “It's unrealistic. Very unrealistic. Especially seeing how badly I messed it up last night.”

He barely managed to close his mouth after speaking when Yoojung pressed his finger to his lips.

“No more beating yourself up over that, you hear me? What happened yesterday doesn't make me wanna try again any less. We just have to make sure you're more relaxed next time you attempt it, and slowly, step by step, we’ll build our way up to living out your wildest fantasies.”

Kyubin parted his lips and closed them over Yoojung's finger, his tongue curling up before sucking on it gently. Yoojung's eyes widened and went dark as they fixed on Kyubin's mouth; only then did it hit Kyubin what he was doing.

He jerked his head back. “Sorry, that- I wasn't thinking at all.”

“Good, think less more often,” Yoojung murmured before kissing him, short and hard. “We’re seeing each other again tonight, right?”

“I- Yeah, I hope so.”

“Good, cause I always finish what I started.”

Kyubin felt a little warmer as he asked, “You mean-”

“You're getting blown tonight. Any objections?”

A breathless laugh escaped him. “No, none. Unless objecting comes with perks of its own, in which case I might try.”

There was something amazed in Yoojung's voice when he said, “I'm gonna bring out a whole new side of you, just you wait.”

“Don't make me wait too long,” Kyubin whispered before capturing his lips.

Once again, Yoojung didn't let him get too deep with the kiss, the smirk on his face telling Kyubin he was just in a mood to tease. “You know, as much as I wanna get wild with you, I do want tonight to be relaxing for you. You're gonna lie down exactly where you are now, and I'll go as fast or as slow as you want me to.”

Kyubin ran his fingers through Yoojung’s hair to move it out of his eyes. “I'd feel bad making you do all the work again.”

“Don’t, I enjoy doing the work. But if you feel like you're ready to return the favor, I'll do everything to make sure you have a good time with it. I still have that vodka which I have no idea what to do with. Should I just buy orange juice and make cocktails to get us both tipsy?”

“What about your no drinking rule?”

Yoojung shrugged. “I have a feeling we’re really close to discovering what ultimate bliss actually feels like, so I’m willing to bend the rules a little.”

An annoying tune resounded in the quiet room, bursting the bubble of morning contentment.

“Shit,” Kyubin sighed. “It’s my alarm.”

Reluctantly, Yoojung rolled over and grabbed Kyubin's pants off the floor. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He turned off the alarm and stared at the clock showing 7 AM. “Listen, I might have to head straight to work from here. Do you have a spare toothbrush I could borrow?”

“Yeah, it's in the cupboard over the sink,” Yoojung said while reaching for his phone. “If you wanna take a shower, there is a towel for guests, but you should take the green one. It's new, it can be yours.”

Kyubin smiled and kissed Yoojung's shoulder before getting up to collect the rest of his clothes off the floor, leaving him to scroll on his phone.

He dealt with morning hygiene quickly, trying his best to ignore how every time his fingers brushed a hickey Yoojung left, it made him want to say fuck it to everything else and stay in bed with him for the whole day.

He attempted to arrange his hair into something tidier and straighten a few wrinkles on his shirt. There was no way to make his clothes look like they weren't yesterday's banquet attire, but since he had a history of wearing slightly too fancy clothes on any random day, if nobody paid close attention to him, he should get away with it without probing questions. No hickeys were visible above his collar, which was a relief. And maybe a little bit of a pity, because covering a hickey with the makeup of the person who made it seemed like something he ought to try at some point.

On his way to kiss Yoojung goodbye, he noticed a peculiar sight on the kitchen table which he couldn't pass by without asking.

Yoojung was still on his phone when he got back to the bedroom. “Hey, what are all those cookies for?”

“Huh?” Yoojung looked up, seeming a bit distracted. “Oh, that. I’ve been stress-baking. You can take however many you want. All of them, even. Share them around at work.”

“Really? Thank you.” He took in the look on Yoojung's face as he returned to staring intently at the screen. “What happened? Is it the news?”

Yoojung turned his phone around, allowing Kyubin to see the front page of his email. The name BlueBlueSeoul was written at the very top in thick letters, and the first sentence began with Thank you for participating in... He reached forward to open the email and see what was written next, but Yoojung snatched the phone away before he could touch it.

“Don't, I'm not ready.”

“There’s good news there,” Kyubin reassured him with all the confidence that filled him. There was another emotion which he struggled to name, but he quickly realized exactly what it was - pride.

But Yoojung obviously didn't share either of those feelings. “Didn’t you see the first sentence? Emails with bad news always start exactly like that.” Quieter, he added, “But it's not like I'd know how the good ones start.”

Kyubin squatted down by the bed and placed his hands on Yoojung's knees. “And this is the moment when you find out. Open it. You've been waiting long enough to celebrate this.”

Yoojung drew in a tense breath. “And what if after all this waiting, there's nothing to celebrate?”

“Not possible. If they really are as amazing as you find them, they wouldn't dare to miss out on having you on their team.”

“Keep saying this on the off chance that there are higher powers listening.”

“You don't need higher powers. You’ve got this.”

Yoojung's thumb hovered over the screen, not getting any closer to touching it. Then he groaned and put the phone down to hide his face in his hands. “No, I can't. Everything’s been going so well until this came out like a jumpscare. No, that's a shit comparison, cause at least after a jumpscare you laugh at how ridiculous it is to be scared of something on a screen, but now the monster actually is under my bed.”

“Tell you what,” Kyubin said while taking Yoojung's hands away from his face to hold them. “How about you give yourself some time to accept that the results are here, and then we'll check them together in the evening? It would be a good start to our night, right?”

“Fuck, I hope,” Yoojung whispered and grabbed Kyubin's hands more firmly. “I could happily pretend this doesn't exist for another week, but you’re right. Better get this over with tonight.”

Kyubin felt an overwhelming urge to kiss some part of him as a comforting gesture, and after a moment of hesitating, he pressed his lips to his forehead. “Can I do anything to help you get through the day?”

There was a second before Yoojung went back to looking stressed where he seemed almost flustered by the gesture. “I don’t know. If it’s busy at work today, I’ll always have a distraction, but- Shit, I feel like I’m gonna be sick right now. Maybe I'll take a small sip of vodka to settle my stomach. If there's ever an excuse for daytime drinking, it’s this.”

Kyubin wondered for a second if he should question that decision, but decided against it. “That’s right. Would you like some breakfast to go along with it?”

“I’ll grab something on the way.” He squeezed Kyubin's hands one last time before releasing him from his hold. “Go, see you tonight.”

Kyubin opened his mouth to repeat the phrase, but paused, realizing suddenly that he’s allowed to attach a term of endearment to simple sentences such as these. To test the waters, he said, “See you tonight… baby?”

Yoojung’s head snapped up with a perplexed look, and then, he snorted loudly. “You didn't sound convinced you wanted to say that.”

“Yeah, it didn't feel right,” he laughed. Purely to keep Yoojung amused for a little longer, he said, “See you later, honey.”

“Ew, gross. Go before I change my mind about wanting my mouth anywhere near this,” Yoojung said while pointing his foot at Kyubin's crotch.

Kyubin never rushed out the door faster.

The cookies found their rightful place by the coffee express, and since then, Kyubin saw people from every department munching on one in various places around the building. Every time he made eye contact, the reaction was that of a kid caught misbehaving rather than an adult having a snack between meetings. Perhaps he should have left a note saying the cookies were put there precisely with the purpose to be shared around.

Around lunchtime, his phone buzzed with messages from Yoojung.

11:28AM It's happened
11:28AM My worst nightmare
11:28AM Barely any customers today ㅠㅠ

11:30AM Is there nothing that could serve as a distraction?

11:30AM I don’t knowwww
11:31AM I usually make up scenarios in my head on slower days

11:33AM You mentioned that BlueBlueSeoul travel the world with their performances, so think of all the places you'd like to visit. So many other seas and oceans out there, and you'll get to dip your toes in all of them. Waves never stay the same, and all this stress will go away, too.

11:45AM It's working. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

It was hard to keep a smile off his face as he attempted to focus on work instead of diving into daydreams of their night, of Yoojung’s lips, of his skin in the low light, of his skillful hands and tongue, of everything that made him so easy to get addicted to and made the stacks of numbers on Kyubin’s screen blur before his eyes from their insignificance.

He closed his eyes and gave himself a moment to compose himself. This jittery happiness was a rarity, something he didn't think men over thirty were even capable of experiencing, and he didn’t want to waste effort on suppressing it. He was going to cherish every second until he was back in Yoojung’s arms and could indulge his addiction all over again.

The second his stomach let him know it was time for lunch, he made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find at least one cookie left. He rounded the corner and immediately jumped back behind the wall when he spotted his boss by the coffee express. Cautiously, he stuck his head out and observed as the man picked up one of the remaining cookies and took a bite, his eyes widening as he chewed slowly. After a quick look around, he snatched up two more and shoved them into the pockets of his blazer before heading right at Kyubin.

“Ah, Mister Shin,” he said, alarmed. His attention shifted down to Kyubin’s suit. “A little overdressed, aren’t you? Pity you didn’t show up at yesterday’s banquet, you would have fit right in.”

“I apologize, sir,” Kyubin said while bowing his head low. “Something came up at the very last minute, I had to leave early.”

“I see. Mr. Jung did alright in your stead, so I’ll let you off the hook this once.”

“Thank you, sir” Kyubin bowed again. “Enjoy your meal.”

The man’s face grew stern. “Are you planning to have a laugh about this behind my back?”

“No, sir, not at all. I’m glad everyone seems to like them so much.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the one who brought them here?” he asked in a vaguely amiable tone.

“I would. A friend of mine made them, actually.”

“Huh. Very well. I’ve always been against snack bars in the workplace, but implementing one might not be such a bad idea after all. It seems to have boosted morale around the office. Now, back to work.” He took another bite and walked away, leaving Kyubin to ponder if he’d woken up in an alternate universe.

He arrived at Yoojung's door in a light mood. He had to press the buzzer a few times before the door unlocked to let him into the building. His feet skipped over every other step, invigorated by the perspective of pulling Yoojung into his arms and kissing him as a greeting, at last no second-guessing or hesitation preceding it.

He opened the door without bothering to knock, his heart beating faster not only from the run. He saw Yoojung sitting on the couch, and he quickly toed off his shoes. “Hey, the traffic’s been a nightmare, but I'm finally here.”

Yoojung's only reaction to his presence was to reach for a bottle sitting at the table and tilt his head back as he took a big gulp. He pushed himself up to a stand, but then he swayed, and Kyubin ran up to his side to catch him.

“Easy, careful.” He guided him to sit down, taking the bottle out of his hands. Very little of the vodka seemed to be missing, but its effects were all too visible. Yoojung attempted to clumsily steal the bottle for himself, so Kyubin placed it on a cupboard beyond his reach. “Lie down, I'll bring you a glass of water.”

“I'm fine,” Yoojung grumbled while making an effort to stand up again. “Why are you here?”r

“Okay,” Kyubin chuckled in consternation, “I see that what you need is a double espresso, not water. Maybe we should have read that email in the morning after all. Let’s check what they wrote to you right now so you can finally free yourself from the stress.”

Yoojung gave up on trying to stand up and gestured toward the bottle. “Bring me that.”

Kyubin sat by his side. “I understand the urge to drink your stress away, I really do, but it looks like you've had enough.” Yoojung grimaced in a way that Kyubin might have found endearing if he wasn't so worried. “Fuck that, I drink if I wanna drink.”

Kyubin held his forearms and tried to catch his gaze as Yoojung attempted to pull out of his hold. “Yoojung, hey. Listen. You never told me why you made the decision to avoid drinking, but I’m taking it seriously. I won’t let you do anything that could be harmful.”

“Why are you here?” Yoojung asked again, getting more irritated.

“I'm here to support you,” Kyubin said in his firm voice.

Yoojung stopped struggling, his brows furrowed like he was trying to make sense of those words. When Kyubin loosened his hold, he snatched his arms away and crossed them over his chest.

“I’m here because I want to support you,” Kyubin repeated, searching Yoojung's face for a hint that his words were getting through. “I’m trying my best to do that right now, so please, tell me what you need. Anything other than this.”

Yoojung slumped against the backrest and cast one longing glance at the bottle. “The sea.”

“You need the sea? As in, the painting or the real sea?”

“Real. I need to see it. I need to be there. I’m gonna- yeah, I’m gonna be there.” He clenched the edge of the seat tightly and pushed himself up to his feet successfully, as if the sheer mention of going to the sea returned his bodily coordination. Kyubin watched him lean on the table and take a few small steps, then support himself against the wall as he made his way to the door.

“Wait, hold on.” He jumped up to his feet to get to the door before Yoojung did and blocked it. “Are you really intending to go right now?”

“Yeah, I'm going.”

Kyubin watched him clumsily put on his shoes while he scoured his brain for a more easily available alternative. “How about the Han River? You'd get there a lot faster.”

“Whatever,” Yoojung murmured and elbowed Kyubin's side to get to the door. “Just can't be here. Anywhere but here.”

His walk downstairs consisted of tightly grabbing onto the railing and staring intently at where his feet were stepping. Kyubin stayed right behind, looking out for any misstep that would cause Yoojung to lose his balance. He’d never been quite so grateful for the training that caring for drunk Junhyung gave him. The fact that this was Yoojung of all people only gave his alertness a boost, especially since he had no idea what other side effects to anticipate. If Yoojung wasn't supposed to drink too much, what happened when he did? A strong headache or something worse? Why the hell didn’t he just call Kyubin if he needed a distraction so badly?

Once Yoojung arrived at the bottom of the stairs, thankfully unharmed, Kyubin told him, “I’ll order you a taxi.”

Yoojung made a vaguely annoyed sound. “Don’t, I'm walking.”

“Are you sure? Can you even walk without any support?”

Yoojung let go of the railing and took a few wobbly steps. “Can. I'm walking.”

“Alright then,” Kyubin sighed and stood next to him. “Ready?”

“What d’you think you're doing? Didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“There’s no way I’d let you go alone,” Kyubin protested. “You didn’t even take your phone or wallet with you. I could call a friend of yours if that's what you prefer, but I can't let you go alone.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I really can't. I saw you walk right under a speeding car once, and I'm not letting it happen again.”

His words seemed to have gotten through Yoojung’s drunken haze, because he paused with his hand clasping the handle. “Whatever, just don't talk. No talking, no thinking.”

A few minutes of breathing fresh air - and accepting a bottle of water Kyubin bought him along the way - sobered Yoojung up enough to prevent him from stumbling off the sidewalk. The line he walked never stopped meandering, but Kyubin could walk a few steps behind him with a clear conscience. He saw how hunched Yoojung's back was as he walked, shoulders drooping, feet dragging as if the air surrounding his legs felt thick as water. Had it not been for his bright hair, Kyubin wouldn’t have been able to tell him apart from other passersby. The closer they got to the riverside, the harder it was to avoid entertaining the thought that Yoojung wasn’t like this just because of a few sips of vodka. Something spurred him to drink from that bottle, and it wasn’t hard to guess what that thing might have been.

Even though only one explanation made sense, it also took sense away from everything Kyubin understood to be true. From the moment he saw Yoojung dance, he could see that this man was meant to achieve great things. A world in which talent like this went unrecognized wasn’t a world that made sense at all.

When Yoojung settled on the riverbank, Kyubin stayed back to give him space, the hope that his suspicions were wrong slowly evaporating. He never tried to imagine how Yoojung might look if his dream was crushed in an instant by a few words on a screen, but if he did imagine it, it would've been uncomfortably close to this.

If by some awful twist of fate there were people with better technical skills at that audition, or people with more impactful choreographies, or simply people who happened to perform at a higher level on that specific day, what was he supposed to say to Yoojung? He had no words to offer that could make this better. Once again, he was useless.

He waited for the final rays of the sun to disappear behind skyscrapers before he sat by Yoojung's side.

“Being a river would be so much simpler than whatever this is,” Yoojung said with a blank expression. “At least you'd always know where you're gonna end up.”

“You know the results already,” Kyubin said as delicately as he could, “don't you?”

Yoojung didn’t speak for a while, so the final spark of hope was already extinguished even before Kyubin heard his answer. “It was making me sick, thinking about how much depends on something that's a single click away. I had to get it over with.”

Despite everything, Kyubin’s heart still sank to his stomach at the confirmation. Right after that, something defiant rose up inside him and invigorated him to say, “No, this isn't right. They must have made a mistake. They must have. We need to contact them. We'll write, and if that doesn't work, we'll call, and we'll tell them that-”

“No, we won't,” Yoojung interrupted, sounding numb and exhausted. “They made their decision. You might be surprised by this, but I'm not. I'm used to it.”

“But you shouldn't be. This is not fair at all. What kind of standards do they have if they can just pass up on you?!”

“Good ones?” Yoojung suggested bitterly. “It’s not like they did anything out of the ordinary.”

“But- it just doesn't make any sense. Did they not watch you perform the same choreography as I did? It was clear to me how much thought you put into it and how passionate you are about this, so how could those who call themselves experts be so oblivious?”

Yoojung snorted. “You think this isn't exactly what goes through my head every single time this happens? That this isn't fair, that their standards are shit, that it's their loss? And do I actually believe any of that? No, but I have to think this way, or I'd never try again. And you know what?” He turned to Kyubin, his pain apparent in his eyes and voice when he spat out, “Maybe this wouldn't hurt so fucking much if you never made me believe that something could actually happen for me this once.”

The impact of those words put all the fight out of Kyubin. He stared at Yoojung as his hands balled into fists in his lap, too ashamed to reach toward him and comfort him. “I'm sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have been so confident about something I know so little about. I'm so sorry for making this harder on you.”

Yoojung shook his head. “Whatever, I brought this on myself. You were just being supportive. All I had to do was not believe you.” He didn't sound angry, merely resigned, which was somehow more difficult to hear.

“I’m really sorry,” Kyubin repeated helplessly.

“Stop, this is so stupid,” Yoojung laughed. “Me, not you. I should’ve accepted that my chances were nonexistent right after I walked out of that audition instead of wasting my time daydreaming. I actually believed I’d get to travel the world with them. See Paris, New York, Sydney. Even Tokyo, I’ve never been there. So stupid.”

Kyubin could tell this wasn't the right moment to offer he could take Yoojung anywhere he wanted, so he stayed quiet, giving him time to get out all the words he needed in order to start healing.

After a heavy pause, Yoojung continued, “You know, even if we never went outside of Korea, I- I just wanted to know what it would be like to meet all of them as colleagues. Work together on a shared vision. Exchange ideas as if we were equals. Finally get some solid proof that this hasn't been a huge waste of time.” His voice wavered, and he drew in a sharp breath. “You know what. Um. Let’s just go back, we still have plans for tonight. Your dick isn’t gonna suck itself.”

“What?” Kyubin asked, perplexed by the turn the conversation took. “Uh, sure, if you want to go back, then let’s go.”

He chose to ignore the latter part, suspecting it was nothing more than an attempt to pretend their plans wouldn’t have to change drastically. He stood up and looked at Yoojung to check if he was ready to leave, but noticed his eyes seemed glassy.

“Actually, you go ahead, I-” Yoojung pressed his lips tightly together and cleared his throat, the effort too exaggerated to mask his emotions successfully. “I'll just admire the water for a bit.”

Kyubin stood still, immobilized by a memory from his childhood. It was still so vivid in his mind. He was six, maybe seven - young enough to get teary-eyed whenever something felt too difficult, old enough to understand that a boy with tears running down his face wasn't something people liked to see. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened that made this specific memory stand out. All he remembered was the heavy feeling in his chest all throughout dinner as his parents calmly finished their meals, not once looking in his direction. It didn't matter if they really didn't notice him holding back his tears, or if they were ignoring him deliberately; he never wished to make anyone feel that way.

He sat back down. “Yoojung, I… I can’t leave you alone right now.”

Yoojung choked out a laugh. “I can look at water on my own, I’m not gonna fall in.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Kyubin said quietly, as if for the river to carry his words to Yoojung's ears and drown them immediately afterwards. “It’s okay if you need to cry.”

“Nah, me? I don’t need to do that.” His body couldn’t allow him to tell such a lie, because right as he finished speaking, his chest shook with a sob. He quickly pressed his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound trying to escape. “Alright, so maybe I need to. But I’m not gonna.”

“Why not?”

“Cause there are people around, and it’s fucking embarrasing to make a scene over something so stupid.”

“This was your dream,” Kyubin said gently. “It’s not stupid to feel heartbroken over it.”

“Yeah, but it's not like I'm not used to letting go of stuff I got attached to. I mean, it's not like the world is ending or anything.”

“It's okay if it feels like it.”

A tear escaped Yoojung’s eye right before he shielded his face with one hand. He didn’t turn his back to Kyubin, nor did he stand up and walk away.

Somewhere inside Kyubin, his six-year-old self locked himself in his room and cried into a pillow, wishing he could be calmer, tougher, more like his father who didn't seem to feel much at all. In hindsight, he knew that what he really wished for was to have someone sit on his bedside and caress his head until every last trace of pain was smothered by a kind touch.

He placed his hand on Yoojung's head and saw his whole body go rigid. “You might feel a bit better if you let it out. I know it won’t fix everything, but… don’t hold it in, okay?”

His hand moved downward, all the way to the ends of Yoojung’s hair and halfway down his back. When Yoojung remained motionless, worry flashed in Kyubin's mind that he was only making matters worse, but he was committed to what he started. After a moment of unsettling stillness, Yoojung’s shoulders began shaking. His face was still hidden, but Kyubin heard how hard he was trying not to make any noise.

“Come here,” he said as he guided Yoojung closer, surrounding him with his arms and allowing him to hide against his chest. “Nobody’s looking now,” he whispered, caressing from the top of his head to the small of his back. “Just let it out.”

Yoojung stayed perfectly silent for a second, but then the dam broke, leaving the thin material of Kyubin's shirt damp in seconds. He felt the full force of Yoojung’s heartache as his hands clutched his shirt desperately, and he heard it in the frantic way Yoojung caught air with his mouth, like each breath could be his last.

He didn't know what the right words to say were at that point. There is going to be another chance wouldn't bring the desired comfort. You've worked hard would only emphasize how unfair the whole situation was. I'm here for you was arguably the worst of all. His presence was worth nothing. If he could make himself disappear to get Yoojung’s dream to come true, he would do so in a heartbeat.

All he could do was hold him closer, envelop his trembling form with his arms until the only proof of this moment was the front of Kyubin's shirt, creased and painted with tears.

The sniffling began to grow less and less frequent until Yoojung went entirely quiet. He didn’t move, and neither did Kyubin, waiting for a sign that Yoojung was calm enough to leave his hiding spot. He loosened his hold a little, just to allow Yoojung a bit more breathing room, but regretted it when Yoojung immediately withdrew from his embrace and faced the river again.

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” he said while quickly wiping his face with his sleeves. “And I’m saying this as someone with a history of embarrassing myself in public. Like, once this guy’s boss caught us with my fingers up his ass in a changing room. The guy’s, not the boss’, obviously. That was an adventure.”

Kyubin stared at the redness on his nose and around his eyes. His arms felt empty, but Yoojung was sitting far enough to be out of his reach, and he didn’t dare to cross the distance. “Nobody here was paying attention,” he said, though he couldn't be sure since his focus had been directed elsewhere.

“Nobody,” Yoojung repeated under his breath, loud enough for Kyubin to hear and read into. He wasn't a nobody to Yoojung, and he was paying attention. Judging by Yoojung's obvious discomfort, it was far too much attention than he could handle.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Yoojung said with a forced laugh, refusing to meet his eyes. “So good.”

Ignoring the blatant lie seemed to be what Yoojung preferred, so Kyubin went along with the pretense. “That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.”

Yoojung stood up suddenly, and turned around without a word. Kyubin jumped up to his feet to follow him, setting a quick pace, but he caught up immediately when Yoojung stopped and faced him with a determined expression.

“This isn’t how I normally react to this kind of thing. I just think you should know that. This was me being a human volcano, nothing more. Or maybe it was the alcohol, I don't know. Now you see why I shouldn't drink.”

“It was a very understandable reaction,” Kyubin assured him.

Yoojung scoffed and wrapped his arms around himself. “Yeah, maybe. Don't be concerned about me, is what I'm trying to say. I'm fine. I move on fast.”

“That's great,” Kyubin said, hoping he sounded convincingly unconcerned. “What would you like to do now? Maybe go to a sweetshop? I think I saw one on the-”

“Your shirt,” Yoojung interrupted, his brows drawn into a frown.

Kyubin didn’t have to look down at the wet spots in the material to know some of them were uncomfortably sticky, too much to be the cause of nothing but tears. “This? Ah, this is nothing.” He adjusted it so it wasn’t pressing to his skin, trying not to wince. “I’ve been wearing it for two days straight, it’s due for a wash anyway.”

“I’ll wash it for you,” Yoojung offered, eyes fixed on the shirt like he wanted to evaporate the proof of his sorrow with his gaze alone.

“It’s fine, you don't have to.” He quickly realized it was the wrong answer when Yoojung's face fell, so he rushed to say, “But if you want to, yes, of course.”

“I want to. Let's go back to my place. You said something about a taxi before, didn’t you? That was a good idea, let’s get one right now. Sorry for making you walk all the way here, we should’ve just- we shouldn’t have even come here.”

Kyubin shook his head with what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Don’t be sorry, I needed to straighten my legs anyway. Besides, I’ve never seen the Han River from this spot before, so I have you to thank for showing me something new.”

His words didn’t erase the tension, nor did it disappear during the drive. Yoojung didn't look away from the window, and it was clear he wasn't feeling any less uneasy than he did before crying; if anything, he seemed even more agitated as he kept fidgeting in his seat, teeth gnawing on his lips, hands in constant motion. All of it made Kyubin wonder if going home alone wouldn't have been a little easier on him. Perhaps it would have, and he knew that, but he still chose to have Kyubin by his side. That was meaningful.

Kyubin placed his hand on the middle seat and waited, staring out the window to not put any pressure on Yoojung. After about a minute, he felt a warm sensation along his pinky, and he hid a relieved smile behind his hand.

The drive wasn't nearly long enough to think up an extensive list of ways to help Yoojung end the day in a more peaceful state of mind. Once they were back in Yoojung's flat, he proposed his first idea.

“Would you like to listen to the music from Swan Lake?”

Yoojung paused while untying his shoelaces. “No. Why?”

“Nevermind then. What about watching a movie you like? What's your favorite?”

Yoojung finished taking off his shoes and reached for Kyubin's shirt. “We're not here to watch movies.” The material was already dry, but his fingers worked hastily, careless toward the thin threads holding the buttons in place.

Kyubin stopped him before he accidentally tore something. “I’ll take care of this. You just come up with how you'd like to spend the rest of the evening.”

“Washing your shirt was just a pretext to invite you for the night,” Yoojung said, gaze searching Kyubin’s face like he was trying to find an answer to a question never asked. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious. I’m grateful that you invited me.”

“Why are you grateful?” Yoojung asked quietly.

“Well, I- I’m grateful that you want me around. I'm grateful you trust me.”

The material pressed snugly to his skin as Yoojung pulled it closer to himself with tightly clenched fists, and Kyubin thought that maybe somewhere deep, they both felt the same unease about how being separate bodies could ever allow them to get to each other’s core. Some impalpable parts of Yoojung were in distress, and they would remain unreachable until Yoojung decided to voice them, but until then, there was no way for Kyubin to offer them comfort. Clothes were a barrier between them and bodies were a barrier between them.

“I’m here for you,” he whispered as he caressed Yoojung's arm, wishing that could be enough for the barrier to start coming down. “Whatever you need me for.”

Yoojung’s face shifted between a few conflicting emotions, and then he yanked Kyubin closer.

What should have felt like a kiss was just an uninviting clash of lips at first, with Yoojung’s knuckles digging into his chest and no movement between the two of them. Yoojung took action first by attempting to make Kyubin part his lips, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

He returned the kiss expecting them to fall into a shared rhythm, but his body couldn't figure it out this time. Unlike every kiss before this one, it didn’t make his mind go quiet. He found himself overanalyzing how stiff and uncertain Yoojung’s hands were, holding his shoulders in a tight grip, not wandering anywhere else. His lips were firm and quick, and no kiss lingered for long enough to make Kyubin respond with passion. No part of how Yoojung’s body moved felt motivated by desire, and the alarm bells it set off in Kyubin’s head overlapped with echoes of Yoojung's distressed sobs, effectively drowning out every other thought and making it impossible to recall how their bodies ever got to the point of moving together instinctively.

Yoojung separated their lips to whisper frustratedly, “This isn’t working. Why isn’t this working?”

Kyubin tried to offer a comforting smile. “It’s not working right now, but that's okay. It will work another time.”

The emotions on Yoojung’s face shifted too fast for Kyubin to catch up. “No, fuck that. We're doing this now. Go lie down, my knees are sore after yesterday.”

“Wait, you-” He paused when Yoojung’s impatient hands already got to undoing his belt. “You still want to do this?”

"That was the plan, so that's what we're doing.”

He watched as Yoojung tried to clumsily pry the leather strip out of the buckle, the previous night’s smoothness nowhere to be seen. Some parts of his body responded to the suggestion, tickled by the memory of how good it felt to be inside Yoojung’s mouth, and the fact that he was able to conjure up the image of Yoojung's face between his legs so soon after his dream imploded sent such a violent shiver of discomfort through his body that he took a big step back. “Then let's call off this plan and make a new one."

“Why?" Yoojung asked sharply. Despite the tone of his voice, his expression looked panicked, and Kyubin rushed to fix that.

“No, nothing. The plan was a good plan, I just-” He took a deep breath, trying to quickly sort through his thoughts. “I understand that you want to put it all behind you as quickly as possible, but you’re clearly still shaken up. If you want to pretend none of that happened, that’s fine, we can pretend, but-”

“Just say what you wanna say,” Yoojung interrupted. Everything about him was tense, his mouth set in a thin line, his eyes puffy, still a little red, and all Kyubin wanted was to wrap him in a blanket and pet his hair until he fell asleep.

He gently brushed his fingers along Yoojung’s forearm. “I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

He hoped to see relief on Yoojung’s face, some proof that his suspicions were correct and that Yoojung wasn't really doing this for his own pleasure, merely out of some misguided idea that he had to distract Kyubin from the vulnerability he’d shown, make up for the mess on his shirt, or even worse - apologize for it all. Instead, he heard a laugh that reminded him of some of the worst nights of listening to Junhyung’s semi-coherent tales of heartbreak.

“Wow, okay. You can just say you don’t want it, no need to make up excuses.”

Kyubin stared at him as if he could see into Yoojung’s mind and understand why it felt like both of them were having a different conversation. Something about this felt deeply wrong in a way he couldn’t articulate, but Yoojung's expression grew more upset the longer he kept quiet, so in a surge of panic, he grabbed his shoulders and pushed away the gut feeling. “Are you certain that giving me a blowjob is going to make you feel better?”

“Fuck’s sake, this isn't about a blowjob.” Yoojung wriggled out of his hold, looking like he needed to be anywhere else. “Doesn't matter, don’t force yourself. A little snot gets on your shirt and suddenly nothing works as it should.”

“This isn’t about the shirt,” Kyubin protested weakly. “I’m just saying, there must be something else you want to do more than this, right? Maybe have something sweet, watch a movie, or listen to a song? You must have a ritual by now, something that you usually distract yourself with after-” He bit his tongue too late to save Yoojung from the pained look that flicked across his face.

Great job, he thought. The last thing Yoojung needed was another reminder of how many times he'd been in this exact position before. Sometimes Kyubin wished he'd never learnt to speak.

“I'm sorry, that was such a stupid thing to say.” His hand reached forward, but Yoojung turned his back to him.

"Whatever,” he said in a shaky voice. “It's getting late. You should go.”

“No, please, let’s just- You shouldn’t have to end the day like this. Let me do something for you to make it better.”

“Nothing’s gonna make today better. I just need this day to fucking end. I’m going to bed, so leave. Now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kyubin sighed, feeling like he’d officially become the biggest disappointment to have ever walked the planet. “I understand. Again, I’m really sorry.”

Yoojung headed for the bathroom. “Yeah, me too.”

“You've got nothing to be sorry for.”

Yoojung paused with his hand on the handle. “You’re right, I don't.” He didn't look in Kyubin's direction at all before locking himself in.

Kyubin stood still with thoughts racing against one another, none even remotely helpful.

He couldn’t make sense of how intending to show someone respect could go sideways this quickly. The assumption that he was protecting Yoojung from some unspecified thing propelling him to go against his body's wants was obviously wrong. There were so many reasons as to why he might have wanted it without actually wanting it, and after getting a glimpse of how difficult navigating intimacy was for him, it was easy for Kyubin to let his imagination go wild. All he knew was that he went wrong somewhere, but the myriad of possible explanations meant nothing until he heard one directly from Yoojung’s lips. And Yoojung was in no state to explain anything to him.

He heard water running in the shower, and all he could think was that there must be something, a gesture, no matter how minute, that would serve as a bandaid precariously placed over a wound he just poked.

He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in hope of finding something sweet to leave at Yoojung’s bedside table, but found nothing of the sort. Before he could start to debate whether almonds or apples were a more appropriate choice of comfort food, he noticed a cup standing on the counter with a box of raspberry tea next to it. The water in the kettle was lukewarm, so Yoojung was about to drink it before something distracted him.

After bringing a steaming cup of tea to Yoojung's bedroom, his eyes fell on the row of plushies with their backs still facing away. He turned them all around one by one, taking a moment to look at each of them. Some were older, more worn out, with half torn off arms and missing noses; others seemed like they just changed their home from a shop window to Yoojung's shelf.

A cream-colored rabbit seemed like the one which had its limbs and ears stitched to the rest of its body the most times, the threads in mismatched colors speaking of its longevity. Kyubin placed it on the pillow, in the spot where his head had rested that morning.

He knew he should stop awkwardly lingering in the flat before Yoojung finished his shower. After all, he'd been explicitly asked to leave, and no helpful words were coming to mind other than clumsy apologies. Every step taken toward the door felt wrong, but he did his best to ignore the unease in his heart before it spurred him to look for another excuse to stay longer.

His head hit the pillow with the memory of Yoojung's kisses palpable on his lips, the shirt in the washing machine and every last trace of tears and snot scrubbed off his body.

In an empty room and an empty bed, with his body at a distance from the situation, regret only intensified.

There was no point in rewriting the past in his imagination, but he still did it. He imagined embracing Yoojung instead of running his mouth and holding him until all tension left his body. He imagined harmony blossoming between them as they tuned into each other’s rhythm, and he imagined whispering words that conveyed his intentions better. You don’t have to try so hard. I'm not someone you have to be cautious of. When you’re with me, you can rest.

He threw the covers away and went to pour himself a drink. The night was bound to be a sleepless one, anyway.

With alcohol circling through his system and the TV long ignored in the background, he pulled up their chat on his phone. He was still out of ideas for what to say. Just a bull in a china shop, but instead of being surrounded by fragile dishes, he was surrounded by words he had to pick carefully so he wouldn't shatter the remains of Yoojung’s positive feelings for him.

Perhaps silence was the key to everything. If he had just shut up, grit his teeth and went along with what Yoojung initiated, it would have been him in Yoojung's arms as he dozed off to sleep, not a plush toy. Knowing himself, the toy he picked probably had some horrible memory attached to it, and only made Yoojung feel worse.

Eventually, he settled on a simple and safe Have a good night.

No response came that night or the next morning, which was understandable. He didn't expect Yoojung to want to see him for at least a few more days until he dealt with the rejection from BlueBlueSeoul. Besides, he sent the text at 2AM, it didn't require a response, and Yoojung was a busy man.

Unfortunately, rational reasoning wasn't enough to stop his eyes from drifting to his phone screen every few minutes, distracted by a slight shift in the reflection that skyrocketed his hopes only to bring them down rapidly.

“Mr. Shin?” the voice of his newest client tore him out of his thoughts. He was an interesting type who showed up with his own calculator and insisted on observing Kyubin as he worked despite being politely informed that it was not his duty at all. “Stay focused, please. You were recommended to me because apparently you’re trustworthy, but all I’m seeing now is that you’re easily distracted. I can’t afford any more mishaps, is that clear? I already lost a fortune on the previous guy I hired.”

Well, that at least answered one of Kyubin’s concerns. Too bad it was the one he cared the least about.

He forced his mind to stay on track until the client decided he was satisfied enough to make a permanent deal, and by the end of the meeting, it felt like eight hours had passed instead of one.

When work came to an end, he looked out the window at the spots of light in the darkness. Somewhere over there, Yoojung was counting down the minutes till the end of his shift while serving up a coffee or wiping down a table.

If the previous day was hard for him, how much worse must he feel at that moment, having to work with a smile forced onto his face for the sake of people whose gazes hold no trace of sympathy? Maybe seeing a friendly face at the end of such a day would make him feel a little better.

Then again, Kyubin really didn't want to upset him any further, so maybe it was better not to take the risk.

He headed to the gym after work to clear his head, but ended up leaving with a bruised thigh after allowing his distracted state of mind to interrupt his tempo and send him right off a treadmill into the nearest bench.

The unanswered Have a good night haunted him for a few more days, gradually instilling more and more worry at the lack of response. It would have been much easier to deal with this silent treatment had he not been plagued by the thought that he put a permanent crack into something fundamental to their connection. The longer he replayed Yoojung’s words and expressions in his head, the more distorted they became, until he couldn’t tell where Yoojung’s real intentions ended and his own warped interpretations began.

Perhaps the issue was the text itself. If he wrote something in the form of a question, he might have a better shot at receiving an answer.

How are you? He hit backspace immediately. No use asking that, obviously he wasn't fine.

Can I see you tomorrow? That also got erased. If Yoojung wanted to see him, he would tell him.

Is there anything I can do for you? Yes, leave him alone, probably.

In the end, all he wrote was Have a good night.

When he didn't get a response, he sent it again the following night, and the next, and the next, and by then, he decided he was justified in feeling extremely concerned.

This isn’t about me, he told himself for the n-th time to break the loop of worried thoughts, poking and prodding at various insecurities. This isn't about me. This isn't about us. This is about him focusing on himself, and I have no right to take that personally.

He threw his phone onto the empty half of the bed. The screen soon went dark, leaving only a dim light coming from the window to disperse the late night shadows.

He fell back into the habit of staying at work late in the past few days. It was the only way to delay the moment when he would find himself alone with his thoughts and anxieties, but it was useless when he couldn't even fall asleep at night. Perhaps it was high time to consult with a doctor about an increase in the prescribed dose of melatonin, because he was not about to lose all the progress he’d made in the realm of self-care just because Yoojung was giving him the silent treatment. He promised himself he wouldn't do that, and he was sticking to it.

He got out of bed and assumed the plank position on the floor to tire himself out. “This. Isn’t. About. Me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, over and over until his muscles ached and sweat dripped down his forehead. Even once his arms gave out, his mind was not letting him rest.

One of the cookies baked by Yoojung was still in his kitchen, getting riskier to consume by the day. He took a bite out of it, following it up with another before he could swallow the first, refusing to wallow in the thought that this might be the last of Yoojung's bakes he'd get to taste.

Everything in his apartment looked hostile on nights like this, down to the size of the kitchen table. He resented himself for purchasing the place and every item in it with the intention of having more than one person permanently live there. Years have passed, and the walls stayed white and bare, waiting for someone to fill them up with a color of their liking and photos from shared holidays. The second closet stayed empty, so did a bunch of shelves, even an entire room he assumed one day would have to be turned into a nursery.

He used to find freedom in all this empty space at first. Then, it became a little bothersome. Now, he could conjure up a detailed picture of a person he’d like to share the table with, and the emptiness was unbearable.

There was only one meal he learned that Yoojung liked. One meal, one dessert, one hot drink. They really should have eaten breakfast together the one time they had the chance.

He crumpled the paper wrapping in his fist as he chewed the final bite.

What if he was making a mistake by passively agreeing to this silent distance? A few words of apology in the heat of the moment obviously weren't enough. Yoojung was probably rolling his eyes at those silly good night texts, and wondering why Kyubin wasn’t doing anything more meaningful to make it up to him.

Even if reaching out meant putting the fragile balance of their relationship at a more severe risk, he had to do it. Clear rejection was better than the never-ceasing anxiety.

The next day, he finally constructed a text that had substance.

07:43 PM Hey. I’m done with work. Would you like to have ice cream together before the heatwave is over?

The bus rolled outside of Ultimate Bliss before any response came. He craned his neck to peek inside, but the familiar head of hair was nowhere to be seen, neither in the café nor anywhere near the ice cream truck.

Before he thought through what he was doing, he was standing on the sidewalk as the bus door closed behind him. Worry and alcohol had similar side effects, as it turned out.

Upon opening the door to the café, the first thing he noticed was the music. It was fast-paced and bright with a predictable melody; nothing like what Yoojung ever played.

“Hello, what can I do for you today?” an unfamiliar voice recited the phrase. When Kyubin didn't let go of the door and kept staring at the short-haired girl with black lipstick standing where Yoojung normally stood, she raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Are you coming in or not?”

“Uh, yes, yes I am. Sorry, I thought- I've only ever come here while Yoojung had his shift, so I didn't expect to see anyone else.”

“Because I’m not meant to be working past one,” she said, not hiding her irritation. “College starts in a few days, and I couldn't even go on the trip people in my year organized thanks to him.”

Kyubin stepped closer to the counter. “Have you been filling in for him the whole day?”

“If only. I've been filling in for him the whole week since he decided to stop showing up.”

“Is he sick?” Kyubin asked, unable to hide his worry. “Did he go on a vacation? What’s going on with him?”

She gave him a look that felt condescending even though she was roughly half his size and age. “How the hell would I know?”

Kyubin grit his teeth. “Is your boss here? Can I ask him?”

“He's got more important things on his mind than giving intel to stalkers.”

“I- what? I'm not a stalker! Do I look like a stalker?”

She shrugged. “I don't know, I've never seen a stalker before. Unless I have and didn't know it. A good stalker wouldn't be easy to spot.”

Kyubin sighed. “Yoojung is my friend. I know it might not look like it under the circumstances, but the only reason I'm asking you and not him is because he hasn't been responding to my texts. So, do you know anything? Anything at all?”

She seemed to consider something for a moment. “You’re actually not the first person to ask about him. Two guys came in here a few days ago, said they’re doing some dance thing together and they can't reach him. Apparently this isn’t the first time he’s disappeared without a word. I asked our boss why he'd keep someone like that employed, and he said he earns the most during Yoojung’s shifts. I swear, if I ever have to write an essay on pretty privilege, I'll use him as my primary case study.” Her face stretched with a fake smile. “On that note, I'm not pretty enough to risk my job, so I'll stop there. Can I interest you in a piece of blueberry cake?”

“No, thank you. You can have it.” He slipped a few bills into the tip jar, hoping that a treat at the end of a difficult week would make her feel a bit better.

She bowed her head, looking at him a lot more approvingly. “When you see him, tell him he owes me at least two weeks of morning shifts.”

The perspective of having to bring Yoojung news of more work wasn’t one he looked forward to, but he’d rather hear Yoojung complain than not hear from him at all. “I will.”

Leaving Ultimate Bliss with even more on his mind that he came in with was not the outcome he had hoped for.

The bus that went in his apartment’s direction rounded the corner, but he didn’t rush onto the stop just yet. He began to type in the name of Yoojung's dance studio into the search bar with the intention to find the location and get some information out of his friends, but he paused before he could click on the first result. If Yoojung had been contacting his friends but not him, that drew a very clear boundary. Even if his friends were willing to divulge information, he wouldn't blame Yoojung if he was upset by him trying to snoop behind his back.

His phone began to ring, and his heart rate skyrocketed before he read the name on the screen.

He picked up and greeted Junhyung while doing his best not to sound disappointed. “Hey, what's going on?”

“I got bored of fucking up these sweet potato pancakes and one of them kind of looks like you, so here I am, calling you.”

“Alright,” Kyubin drawled, finding that his mind was more at ease than a few seconds ago. “I'll ignore the latter half and just ask what's gotten you into cooking all of a sudden.”

“It’s something Sungho used to eat a lot as a kid, and I'm trying out being thoughtful these days. How am I doing?”

“If you manage to get at least one of them right, I’m sure he'll be pleased. Is he with you now?”

“No, but we're seeing each other tomorrow. How are things on your end? With Yoojung, obviously, that's the most interesting part of your life.”

Kyubin snorted, but couldn’t disagree. He gave Ultimate Bliss one last look before heading back, hoping a walk would clear his head a bit. “In some ways, much better than last time the two of us spoke. We've, uh. We've consummated the relationship, as kids these days say.”

“No way, you did?” Junhyung mumbled with his mouth full. “Good job on fucking the blondie, old man! I wish you both give each other orgasms till death do you part.”

“Ugh,” Kyubin groaned. “Please, let this not be a segue into talking about your and Sungho’s sex life, because I don't want to know anything.”

“Good, because I'm not gonna tell you anything.”

“Oh?” Kyubin raised his eyebrows. “What's that about?”

“Privacy and trust. Another thing I'm learning. Look at me go.”

“Hm, I see. And for the sake of balance, is there anything that Sungho is learning?”

He could imagine the bitter half-smile on Junhyung's face as he said, “He’s learning to put up with me. The hardest challenge of all.”

“That I have to disagree with.”

“Ask anyone who’s been in my company longer than three hours at a time, and they’ll tell you that putting up with me is real hard work.” His tone shifted from pensive to excited too fast not to be somewhat faked. “But let's talk about you, I wanna interrogate you. You said things are better in some ways, so what about those other ways?”

Too many things came to Kyubin's mind. He swallowed the more personal and irrational fears, and said, “Life's gotten a bit complicated for him after the audition results came.”

“Shit, he didn't get in? That sucks. Sungho got in, but he's not taking it.”

Kyubin stopped in his tracks out of shock. “What? Then why did he audition?”

“To try something new.”

“I’m sorry, to try-” He stopped before his bafflement could distract him from the more pressing matter. “Congratulations to him, I guess. Do you think it's possible they'd take in Yoojung as a replacement? Because this is far more important to him. It's his dream job.”

“Dunno, man, contact them. How's Yoojung doing now? Sungho didn’t mention anything.”

“Last time I saw him, he wasn’t doing well. I haven’t heard back from him in two weeks, though, so I can only hope he’s-”

“Wait, am I hearing you right?” Junhyung cut in. “He’s been ghosting you for two weeks?! And before you say anything about me being a hypocrite for finding this outrageous, shush.”

“It's not ghosting when it also includes other people in his life, I'm pretty sure. He clearly just needs some time. I'm fine with waiting for him, but I don’t know how much more silence I can stand before I-” He pressed his lips tightly together before he could say have another panic attack, just in case he could stop it from happening if he didn’t acknowledge it as a possibility. “I just wish I knew how to fix things instead of making them worse.”

“Food,” Junhyung said right away. “Always fix things with food.”

Kyubin checked the chat in case he missed a message, but of course, he saw nothing new. “I don’t know if food is enough in this case.” He hesitated before confessing, “I think I really messed up, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Spill.”

“I don't know how much I can tell you. He doesn't talk about his past much, but I sometimes get glimpses of how it affected him. I can see he's been hurt, but all I can do is guess what's the best way to go about it.” He looked around to make sure nobody was nearby. “I thought not wanting to have sex with him right after his dream came crashing down made me a decent guy, but it really upset him."

Junhyung sucked air in through his teeth in a way one does after stubbing their toe. “Ouch, I bet that hurt.”

"It's not great,” Kyubin admitted.

“No, dude, I mean him. You're saying you turned him down right after he found out his dream job rejected him? If I was him, I'd be pissed.”

Kyubin felt frustration rise up that everybody seemed to misunderstand his intentions. “He was tipsy, heartbroken and distressed.”

“Exactly!” Junhyung exclaimed like what Kyubin said was obvious. “That’s when you need that messy, horrible sex that leaves you regretting all your life choices.”

Kyubin frowned. “And how does that fix anything?"

"It’s not about fixing anything, it's about feeling your feelings before you get to fixing. Like fucking a stranger to get over a break up, you know?”

“But we’re not strangers. There are bigger consequences when we make a bad decision. I can’t make him distrust me by putting him through something so messed up.”

Junhyung sighed with exasperation. "Dude, he was asking you to put him through it. Going along with someone else's mess is just what you do sometimes. I bet it did wonders for his self-esteem when you made him feel like his mess is too much for you.”

Kyubin's heart sank to his stomach at those words. He knew Junhyung was projecting his own experiences onto the situation, but it didn’t help when every memory of that day was already rearranging around this new possible understanding; every fluctuation in Yoojung's mood, every touch that felt needful rather than wanting, every look that made Kyubin feel like his response was essential to some part of Yoojung staying unharmed.

“You okay there?” Junhyung asked, sounding more sympathetic. “Did your whole life just flash before your eyes?”

“Something like that,” Kyubin sighed. “At least now I understand what the silent treatment is all about. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either if I was him. Maybe this is better. This isn’t- he deserves so much better than this.”

“Shut up,” Junhyung interrupted in a gravely serious voice. “I'm not letting you think this way. He's lucky to have you, and if he doesn't appreciate you, I'll find you someone better. And who knows, maybe this thing with Sungho will blow up in my face soon, and we'll both be in the same boat. Chrome Hearts has been missing their two favorite clients for a while.”

For the first time in days, Kyubin felt a genuine sense of relief. Even if all of this imploded and he ended up with the first real heartbreak of his life, he wouldn't be entirely alone. He could still call Junhyung up, drown his worries in alcohol and hook up with someone whose touch would push him to a messy breakdown halfway through because it wasn’t right, it wasn’t warm, it wasn’t him.

He cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet Yoojung properly before that happens.”

“Yeah, I’d like you to properly meet Sungho too. I want him to like you.”

Kyubin recalled a blurry memory of Sungho’s odd behavior toward him. “I did get the impression that he's not fond of me, but I have no idea why.”

“He doesn't dislike you, it's not personal. He's just finding it hard to believe that we're not secretly fucking.”

Kyubin spluttered. “I’m sorry, us?! Why would he ever think that?”

“Because of the scorching sexual tension between us, obviously,” Junhyung said dryly.

“Right.” Sensing that he wouldn't receive an honest answer, he said, “Listen, neither of us is doing anything wrong. He will have to start trusting you eventually.”

“I don't know what else I can do to convince him. I keep telling him he's enough, more than enough, but I always end up saying something wrong, and I fuck it up. Why do I suck at this so much?” His voice was stripped from all the layers of humor and confidence, something that Kyubin wasn’t privy to often. Especially while Junhyung was sober. “Seriously, why is it so hard not to hurt someone who means so much to me?”

Kyubin sighed. “When you find out, please, let me know.”

Finding BlueBlueSeoul’s business email was easy enough. Constructing a short, urgent message inquiring about the free spot and what they intend to do about it also wasn't difficult.

The difficult part came after he pressed Send and realized everything from that point was entirely out of his hands. Even an hour of experiencing this helplessness was excruciating, and Yoojung had been living with it everyday for years. He could barely begin to imagine how unbearable it must have been to feel it grow, have it fed a little more each time until failure seemed inevitable only to have his worst expectations proven correct again and again.

That thought directed Kyubin's feet in the direction of the ramen shop, and then all the way to Yoojung's front door.

Pressing number 7 on the intercom didn’t warrant a reaction. Before he could give up and resign himself to yet another restless night, an elderly tenant came back from shopping and agreed to let him in if Kyubin carried the heavy bags up to the last floor.

He rang Yoojung’s doorbell once and waited. After the second ring didn’t work either, he set down the plastic bag and texted:

09:23 PM I'm outside your door with two bowls of ramen (one with extra pork!), but it seems you're not home. In case you're not far away, I'm leaving it here. I hope you're holding up okay and will get to it before a neighbor steals it.

Perhaps pointlessly so, he returned the next morning. The bag was gone, so whoever took it, they at least had a good meal.

He didn't ring the doorbell this time, just placed the bag in the same spot.

07:34 AM I see that yesterday's portion didn't go to waste. I can only hope you got to it first and will do so today as well. If not, I hope you're eating well wherever you are.

He crossed only a few steps on his way down when his phone buzzed, and he clutched his pocket tightly. Please be Yoojung, please be Yoojung. He grabbed the railing to prepare himself for the worst and looked at the screen.

07:35 AM Thank you for being a frequent customer! Make sure to leave a positive rating and rev…

He swiped the notification away angrily, feeling like the universe was just making a joke out of him at that point. His frustration reached a point where it began to manifest as a physical pain in his chest, and for a few seconds, he was seized by the fear that what happened that night wasn't a one time occurance, that he would have to deal with frequent panic attacks all over again.

After a few deep breaths, he heaved a sigh of relief when he recognized what this feeling really was. He simply ached for a dose of something that could null the deeper, less accessible ache for at least a short moment with one deep, warming inhale. Had he had a cigarette on him, he would have given into the temptation without a second thought.

Somewhere nearby, a door handle made a harsh squeak, and Kyubin whipped his head around to find its source. A sharp pain shot through the neck as he stared at the person staring right back at him, one foot over the threshold, hand reaching toward the bag.

For a second, Kyubin was petrified that he entered the wrong building and was bothering some other long-haired blond who just so happened to live under number 7. Then the initial shock faded, and every element of Yoojung's appearance arranged into someone recognizable.

There wasn't a lot about him that was different. His hair was straight, so it seemed longer, and it missed its signature bounce and luster. He didn’t look sick, but he didn’t look entirely healthy either, and there was something unsettlingly vacant in his gaze.

Then, he blinked - an action so basic and innocuous that it made no sense for Kyubin to deduct anything from it, but somehow, as he watched Yoojung force his eyelids back up as if that simple motion caused enormous strain, he understood everything.

“Hi,” the word left his lips before his legs remembered how to move.

“Hi,” Yoojung replied as the gap in the door grew ever thinner, and that was when Kyubin’s body jumped into action.

“Wait,” he pleaded as he crossed the distance and slipped his hand into the gap. “Hear me out, please.”

“Now isn't a good time.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically hoarse, but not like he had a sore throat. It was more like he hadn’t spoken in a while and his vocal cords were trying to remember how they’re supposed to work.

“I'll get going in a second, I just- I'm really glad to see you. I'm glad you're the one picking up the meals I buy. And I’m sorry for… well, for all the ways in which I messed up.” There was so much more he wanted to say, so many words swirling and intermixing in his head, but nothing with the potential to leave his mouth as a coherent sentence. He just clutched the doorframe in hope that Yoojung still liked his hands enough to keep them at one with the rest of his body, and held his breath in anticipation. When his lungs began to beg him for oxygen, he had to ask, “Please, can you just say something? Anything?”

He felt Yoojung’s hand on his, and his tight grip relaxed automatically as he pressed into the familiar, comforting warmth. Then the touch disappeared and the door shut.

The clicking of the lock was an utmost mocking goodbye as it felt him with a strange amalgamate of emotions: worry and relief, understanding and confusion. He hadn’t even realized that a small part of him had been scared that Yoojung disappeared altogether, like August coming to an end meant the end of the dizzying summer dream that was time spent with him. But he was there, whole and breathing. Maybe he wasn’t fine, but still. He was there.

By the time he arrived at work, his mind was still consumed by that single blink. It wasn’t really the blink itself that concerned him, but the expression of apathy surrounding it. There was something painfully familiar about it. He'd seen it countless times in mirrors, windows, dark screens, anything that forced him to reckon with his own reflection. It hadn’t even been that long since this look was a permanent feature of his face.

He remembered being in that mindset all too well. How hard it was to care about the simple things, how much he wanted for someone else to care more than he was able to. Forget being a six-year-old on the verge of tears. What hurt far more was going home as an adult and not receiving a single benevolent word, not even a question about how he was doing that wasn’t ultimately about work or hypothetical offspring. And then he met someone who cared enough to help him see a way out.

Now, a choice stood in front of him - to ignore what he saw, accept that Yoojung wasn’t him and had different needs which he clearly wasn’t inclined to share, or to continue reaching out. It wasn’t a hard choice at all. He cared too much already, and he wouldn’t know how to stifle it even if he tried. He could show Yoojung that he cared enough for the two of them.

After yet another meeting with a client proved to be disastrous due to his distracted state, he went up to the balcony.

“Hello,” he called when he spotted a familiar uniform. The janitor turned around to greet him, and the cloud of smoke around him snapped Kyubin’s senses into alertness. “Excuse me, Mr. Kim, would you happen to have a…”

“I do, of course I do,” the man said as he patted various pockets of his uniform. “Ah! There it is.” He glanced into the packet and frowned. “The last one, what a sacrifice. I’ll give it to you if you replace it for me.”

“I will.” Kyubin broke out into a sprint and placed the cigarette in his mouth the second he got to it, claiming that little piece of heaven for himself.

“How long has it been?” Mr. Kim asked as he took out his lighter. “Two weeks?”

With a prickle of shame which he promptly ignored, Kyubin answered, “It would have been twenty-five days tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s nothing. I quit for seven years after my son was born. My wife insisted that we raise a healthy kid, so I gave it a shot. Seven years pass, then what happens? Our son goes to school and starts getting in trouble, and my mother-in-law’s health gets worse. The stress gets to my wife, so she starts smoking. Now look at us both.”

“What about your son? Also a smoker?”

Mr. Kim grinned. “He's a doctor, if you can believe. Treats patients with lung cancer. Makes me and my wife very proud. Did I ever tell you I studied to be a doctor as well?”

Kyubin shook his head.

“Hard to believe, I know, but I did. Never finished my studies.” He coughed, or maybe that was what his laugh sounded like. Kyubin could never be sure. “You know what he told me recently? My son? He said the thing that's motivated him his whole life was to outdo everything his parents have ever achieved. I can't call him an ungrateful bastard with a clear conscience since he's doing good for people, but I never wanted to slap him across the face more.”

Kyubin stared at the smoldering tip thoughtfully. “I find myself doing that recently. I think of what my parents have done or would want me to do, and I do the opposite.”

Mr. Kim made a noise that expressed either understanding or surprise. “I’ve been going against my father my whole life. He was a drunkard and a bastard who deserved nothing from nobody. All kids like to feel they're better than their parents.”

“That’s good, I think. Improvement is good.”

Mr. Kim clasped Kyubin's shoulder. “You’ll see how it feels when it's your own kid doing this to you. Although you never mentioned one, did you? Do you have a kid?”

“No, I don't.”

“Hm. Wife?”

“I'm… still dating around.”

Mr. Kim gave him a once-over. “Right, you’re one of the lucky ones who don't have to hurry with settling down. Even in ten years time there will be younger ladies willing to carry a kid for you.”

Kyubin quickly looked to the other side to hide his grimace. The taste of smoke on his tongue wasn't thrilling anymore, just bitter. He didn't know what possessed him to say, “I'll never have a kid.”

Mr. Kim cackled and flicked the rest of his cigarette into the trash can. “Everyone who's ever said that ended up with an accidental child. Word of advice? Don't sleep with any woman you wouldn't marry if it came down to it.”

Kyubin bit his tongue before he could say something sarcastic and betray how ridiculous and draining he found the turn their conversation took. Mr. Kim was a lot easier to talk to than his father, but neither of the two were someone he wished to talk with longer than a few minutes. It seemed that the only people in his life he truly enjoyed talking to were younger. Probably something to do with the fact that none of them expected him to catch up to how they had structured their lives, they only ever broadened his horizons.

He went up to the balcony again after work, this time with chewing gum in his mouth and a new resolve to get his non-smoking streak back. His thumb hovered over Junhyung's name on the contact list, but he didn't press on it. It wasn't really Junhyung he wanted to talk to, anyway. The only reason he was even considering calling him was that the chance of Junhyung picking up was higher.

He looked over at the spot where he and Yoojung had kissed two weeks before, longing wrapping around his chest. He laid down and took out his phone to stare at the sad picture that his and Yoojung’s chat painted again, filled up with green bubbles, void of gray. The last photo Yoojung texted him was of himself in a state of acted out arousal, and it made no sense for this picture to make Kyubin’s throat feel tight all of a sudden. He missed Yoojung, plain and simple. He missed his voice, his eyes, his hands, the warmth radiating from his smile. What was worse, he even missed Yoojung holding onto him as he sobbed.

Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed Record message and stared at the volume indicators wiggling up and down in accordance with his breathing.

“Uh, hey,” he started, making the thin, black lines reach their maximum height. "Hi. You must be wondering what this is about. So am I, to be honest. I know you've got a lot on your mind right now. That's probably why I’m doing this. Whenever I have a lot on my mind, talking to you makes everything feel easier. I understand that you don't feel the same about me, I really do, but… I still want you to know that I think about you and worry about you. I wish I could help you in some way. Not being able to help you is actual torture.” He released a shaky breath, and words began to spill out uncontrollably, amplified by the fact that nobody was listening to him in real time. “Listen, I know I'm not good at this. I try to be helpful, and all I do is fall flat on my face. I get why you wouldn’t want to contact me when you need something, but I still wish you would. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know. Right now, it’s hard to tell the difference between doing something for you and for myself. Frankly, I'm a bit of a mess these days. I have no idea where we're heading. I just hope you're still willing to give me a shot. I want to learn how to make you feel okay. I want to make you smile. Is that also selfish to say? I want you to smile regardless of who causes it, but I won't lie, there is no better feeling than to be the one making you smile.” He chuckled as a shiver of embarrassment ran through him. “This got weird, I’m sorry. I don't know if I want you to listen to this. I kind of hope you will. I just need you to know that I'm here for you. That's all. I'm sorry for this entire message.”

He pressed Send before he could allow himself to think about it, keen to put it all behind him.

When his phone buzzed a few minutes later, he almost decided not to reach for it to avoid the inevitable disappointment. Whether it was Junhyung or another stupid notification, he did not trust himself not to have a small breakdown if he saw anything but Yoojung’s name on the screen.

Eventually, he braced himself and looked at the screen where the picture of Yoojung in his practice room still resided as his background.

10:12 PM I miss you

He stared at the bubble until the screen went black, then pressed the side button immediately to make sure this wasn’t some trick of his exhausted brain. Then, Yoojung's photo took up the whole screen with his name written at the top, and Kyubin leaped up to his feet as he answered the call.

“Hi,” he exhaled.

“Hi,” Yoojung replied quietly. “How are you?”

A relieved and utterly confused laugh shook Kyubin’s chest. “I'm… good, I guess. I'd rather hear an answer to that from you. How are you?”

“Fine.” If Kyubin hadn’t been focusing on every rustle coming from the other end like it was gospel, he would have missed Yoojung's breathy, “I’m sorry.”

Protests welled up in his throat at how unfair it was for Yoojung to be apologizing, but he couldn't deny that the tense feeling in his chest disappeared after hearing those two simple words. “It’s okay. What are you sorry for?”

“Today. All the days.” His voice wasn't as hoarse as in the morning, but it was still different from how he usually spoke. It was slower, monotone, like he was indifferent toward each and every word. Once again, Kyubin understood. “I don't have a good explanation for this. At first I just needed a few days to process everything, and now… Now I'm not in the mood to be around people at all.”

“That’s fine, take as much time as you need. I won't bother you anymore, I promise. No more surprise visits and recorded messages. I should stop with those good night texts as well, they were- they were a weird idea.”

“Oh.” Either Kyubin's imagination had gone really wild, or Yoojung sounded disappointed. “I didn't mean… No, you're right. Makes no sense for you to keep texting if I never reply.”

“I could keep texting you,” Kyubin suggested cautiously. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don't know.” He paused before saying, “I read them, you know. I just don't know how to respond.”

"Anything would've been fine. Anything at all."

"You deserve better than anything."

Kyubin clutched his phone tighter. "Silence wasn't better.”

"I know,” Yoojung whispered. “I'm sorry. I thought that if I called you, I'd finally come up with a good explanation, but my mind's still blank.”

“I don't need an explanation. I know I said some dramatic things in my message, but I don't need anything you can't offer right now. I just- I’m not handling this very well. Being avoided by you like this.”

“I'm not handling avoiding you very well either,” Yoojung admitted. “And I don't enjoy hurting you. I know how bad that sounds.”

“I know you don’t enjoy it,” Kyubin told him softly. “You have no idea how grateful I am for this call. I’ll be here whenever you feel like meeting up. Right now, take all the time you need to focus on yourself, and then keep on conquering the world like you always do.”

Yoojung's deep sigh would have been soothing to the ears if it wasn't so heavy. “Kyubin.”

“Yes?”

“Kyubin. Don’t hang up. Please.”

“I'm not.” He waited for Yoojung to speak his part, but when no words came, he asked, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything. You. Just talk about anything.”

Kyubin forced his brain to come up with anything remotely interesting. “I’m not sure where to start. I'm on the company balcony right now. The view is the same as it was when you saw it, starless sky and all. It actually does feel starless now that I’m up here alone again.” He closed his eyes, trying to block out all the reminders of how much space there was between the two of them. “You said loneliness makes sense up here, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Well, it doesn't. It doesn’t make sense to miss you while I’m talking to you. Everything feels so much less dull when you’re next to me, and I've been trying not to let the dullness get to me, but it's hard. Sorry, why am I making this about myself?”

“Because I asked you to,” Yoojung reminded him. “So don't stop. I wanna be in your head for a bit. See the world through your eyes.”

“Oh,” Kyubin said under his breath. For a moment, it felt like the distance between them didn’t exist at all. “I told you the sky didn’t feel starless when you were here. What I haven’t told you is that there were other times when something ordinary felt special because of you. That night when I was in your bedroom for the first time, I felt it as well. Everything around us was so cozy and warm. It looked the way that being around you feels, if that makes sense. I never really understood how impressionist painters decided which colors expressed the feelings they wanted to convey, but I understood it then. That night was made up of warm colors only.”

“Do you think there will ever be another night as warm as that one?” Yoojung asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kyubin answered immediately. “I have no doubt that there are warm nights ahead of us.”

“No doubt?”

“None. The world seen through my eyes is made up of warm colors and warm nights only.”

“Why are you so far away?” Yoojung asked with a vulnerable shake in his voice.

A wave of something intense yet tender rose up inside Kyubin. “I could be closer if you want me to be.”

“No, uh- no. This is good. This is enough. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Okay.” The silence droned on for about a minute before Kyubin dared to say, “So… is this good night?”

“No, wait. I just… I should at least say a proper thank you. You've been so nice. You remembered my favorite order and brought it to my door.”

“That’s nothing,” Kyubin said humbly. “Just the bare minimum. Would you like another delivery tomorrow morning? It can be anything you want. The only reason I’ve been buying you ramen is because that’s the only meal I know you like.”

“Ramen is fine. Thanks. Now it’s good night.”

Kyubin closed his eyes, imagining that the rough concrete beneath his palms was soft cotton, and the gentle wind had slipped in through Yoojung’s window to caress their faces and rustle their hair. “Good night. Dream only of warm colors.”

The queue in the ramen shop held Kyubin back by twenty minutes, making him late for work before he even got off at Yoojung's stop. He announced his presence by knocking instead of ringing on the off chance Yoojung was still asleep.

The quarter of a minute it took for the door to open felt like a millisecond in comparison to all the waiting he'd done before, and relief washed over him in an instant.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly.

The gap in the door was thin, allowing him to see only a bit of the wall before Yoojung emerged slowly. Despite how warm the morning was, he had a hood pulled over his head, and his eyes were directed at the floor, chin tilted down. “Hi.”

Kyubin pointed to the hood. “Do you have a cold? Because if you need medicine, I can-”

“I’m fine,” Yoojung interrupted, his hand already reaching for the bag. “Thanks again.”

“Wait,” Kyubin clutched the plastic strip tighter. “Are you going to disappear the second I give this to you?”

“I don't know.” He took his hand back and leaned his weight against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Probably.”

“Alright.” Kyubin extended the bag to him. “Then I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy your meal.”

Yoojung accepted the gift, but didn't disappear into his flat. His fingers toyed with the strap for a moment before he asked, “How was your night?”

“Good, it was good. Yours too, I hope?”

“It was fine.” He focused on a bit of flaky paint coming off the doorframe and began to scratch it off.

Up close, he looked even more tired than the day before, although there were no dark circles under his eyes. His face appeared a bit more puffy than usual, and a faint trace of hair growing on his upper lip pointed to a couple days of self-neglect. When he moved his head, a greasy strand of hair slipped out from beneath his hood, solving the mystery of why he would wear it on such a warm day.

Kyubin absent-mindedly reached forward to tuck it back into place, but Yoojung flinched. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” He pulled his hand back immediately, disoriented by the reaction. “I was just trying to fix your hair, is that- Should I have asked?”

Yoojung hid the strand of hair under his hood. “Not now.”

“Okay. Sorry. I won't do that again.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and every second made Kyubin grow more and more antsy. Everything about Yoojung's body language and tone of voice pointed to a disinterest in continuing the conversation, but he still wasn't making a move to go back inside. It made Kyubin feel like whatever words came out of his mouth, their impact on where their relationship stood would be irreversible, and it made him twice as nervous to say anything at all.

“Well, uh,” he interrupted the silence before the awkwardness reached critical levels. “I’m already running late, but… is there anything you need me to do?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, anything at all. Take out the trash? Buy groceries? Wash the dishes?”

Yoojung stopped ogling the doorframe to give him a wary look. “Are you for real right now?”

“Yes, of course. Why would I joke about this?”

“Cause it's all simple shit. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can, but… have you?”

He hoped Yoojung would read from his face that this was a sympathetic question based on his own experience, but the coldness in Yoojung’s voice told him otherwise. “None of your business.”

“Right, of course,” Kyubin said quickly. “I'm probably not at the top of your list for this kind of stuff, right? No, of course, why would I be? You have your friends, they understand what you need way better than I do.”

Even as he said it, something inside of him protested. There were things reserved for just the two of them that Yoojung's friends couldn't give him. They couldn't cover him in soft gestures and kind whispers until his world started to warm up again. Why wasn't he asking for it? He finally had Kyubin right in front of him, he said he missed him, so why wasn't he grabbing this opportunity to shatter the ice that had gathered between them? “Is there really nothing more you want from me?” Kyubin asked, hearing the hint of desperation in his own voice. “Because I can take the day off, and we could spend it however you want.”

Yoojung looked as if even thinking about continuing the conversation was wearing him out. “You’re late, and I also gotta get ready.”

That took Kyubin by surprise. “You’re going to work today?”

“Why not?” Yoojung asked dryly and returned to glaring at the chipping paint. “Do I look like that much of a disaster?”

“No, sorry, I didn't mean- You look fine. I’m glad you’re feeling up to it.” He hesitated. “I have a message to pass on from your coworker. I think it's better if you hear it now than when you're already there.”

Yoojung’s nails halted on the frame. “You talked to my coworker?”

“Yes, two days ago. She told me she wants you to take over her shifts for a while. Two weeks, I think she said. But if you don't feel up to it, I could ask around for someone who wants to make a little extra money and could fill in for her instead. What do you think about that?”

Yoojung’s eyes burned holes in the door frame until he sighed heavily, and suddenly it looked like he hadn't slept in a week. “Can you please just go?”

“Yeah,” Kyubin said resignedly, mentally berating himself for every single one of his choices which led to Yoojung looking so exhausted. It was a talent to leave the man he cared for in a worse mood than he found him in, and it was not a talent he was glad to possess. “I’m going. Have a nice day. Call me if you need anything.”

He did not expect Yoojung to contact him for at least another week, so when his phone began to buzz a few hours later, just as he was opening his fly at the urinal, his pulse sped up out of fear rather than excitement.

He answered the call with trembling hands. “Yoojung, hey, is everything-”

“Are you mad at me?” Yoojung interrupted.

“What? Mad at you? No, not at all.” He locked himself in the nearest stall, needing something that would at least give an illusion of privacy and make it easier to gather his thoughts. Once he had a steady door behind his back, he took a calming breath and asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” There was a pause before Yoojung asked, “I'm confusing you, aren't I?”

Kyubin opened his mouth to protest, but he found himself incapable of vocalizing a lie of that magnitude. The awkwardness when they stood face to face was disconcerting enough, so to hear Yoojung speak to him in a softer voice, the same voice he used over the phone the previous night, was giving him whiplash. “Maybe you're confusing me a little, yes.”

“Sorry. I don't know how to not be confusing right now.”

“That's okay.”

Yoojung scoffed softly. “No, it's not. You know I was going to lie to you, don't you? I wanted you to think I've been going to work all along.”

“Needing a break is absolutely fine,” Kyubin reassured him. “But it’s embarrassing. Everything about this is embarrassing. I don’t even know how to act when we’re face to face. I just wanna curl up into a ball and disappear.”

Something in Kyubin’s gut twisted. “If my presence makes you that uncomfortable, I won’t show up again.”

Yoojung made a sound that seemed like a really worn out version of a laugh. “But I wanna see you even though it makes me uncomfortable. I wanna talk to you even though we have nothing to talk about. I hate how quiet it can get here sometimes. I hear all the footsteps going up and down the stairs, but nobody ever stops outside my door. Only you did.”

That puzzled Kyubin. “What do you mean, nobody? Didn't your friends from the studio visit you?"

"They don’t even know where I live.”

“But they came to Ultimate Bliss asking about you. They didn't reach out to you afterwards?”

“No, they did not.” There was a trace of something deeply resentful in his voice when he said, “They don't give a fuck about me unless I’m useful to them. Nobody does.”

“I do,” Kyubin protested staunchly.

“I know,” Yoojung whispered, as if it was a secret they were sharing. “Does that make us best friends?”

“I guess so,” Kyubin laughed. “If that's what you want to call what we are, fine by me. It would be an honor.”

"I should let you get back to work now, shouldn't I?”

"We can talk a little longer, if you want."

"I don't know. I don't really feel like talking.”

“But do you feel like hanging up?”

After a pause, Yoojung admitted, “No.”

An idea started to form in Kyubin's mind. “Hey, maybe we could… maybe we could stay on the call a little longer as I finish work? I wouldn't be able to talk, and I might get a call from a client at some point, but I think the background sounds could relax you, so-”

“Let's do it,” Yoojung interrupted. “Don't hang up.”

“Okay,” Kyubin said with a smile. He finally did something right.

As he was exiting the bathroom, he noticed that one of the stalls was closed from the inside, and a cold shiver went through him. He pressed his phone to his abdomen to muffle the sound before giving the door a harsh knock. “Eavesdropping? Very mature.”

He didn't wait for a reaction before fleeing the scene, his thoughts racing through all the things he said. No matter how quietly the sound of Yoojung's voice came through the speaker, it still would've echoed, so anyone would've been able to hear that it was a man Kyubin was speaking to. Whoever it was, he hoped they had the decency not to spread gossip around the office. Being the centerpiece of those was the last thing Kyubin needed.

He set the phone on his desk and got to work, grateful to have something that would busy his mind enough not to drown it with increasingly more disastrous scenarios.

Work wasn't enough to distract him from the urge to burn away the stress with a quick smoke, but that's where Yoojung's presence at his desk proved to be his saving grace. Anytime he found himself getting distracted, he remembered that Yoojung was there, listening to all the tapping and clicking sounds which surrounded Kyubin every day.

Once he was done with work and on his way out, he made sure to pay close attention to any glances thrown his way, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The knot in his stomach came fully undone when he was outside, and could freely raise his phone to his ear.

At first, he heard nothing but silence, but after blocking his other ear, he picked up the faint sound of snoring. He listened for a little longer, aware of the fond smile overtaking his face which must have appeared silly to everyone rushing past him to catch a bus.

As much as he wanted to keep the soft sound of Yoojung snoring close to his ear for the rest of the night, eventually, he had to speak up. “Hey, Yoojung? I'm done with work. Are you still sleeping?”

He heard an incoherent grunt. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m here. Fell asleep to your office ASMR.”

“That’s good,” Kyubin replied, warmth blooming in his chest. “We can do this again sometime, if you want. I should be the one to call you then instead, I don’t want you to go bankrupt.”

He paused before he could ask Yoojung to stay on the phone for the rest of the night. After two weeks of being constantly on edge, he was too fatigued to pretend a phone call was enough. He already knew that once he laid down in his bed, his arms would start to feel too empty, the room too vast and dark, the sheets too cold. His inner balance wouldn't be restored until he had Yoojung flush against him; a physical proof that there really were warm nights ahead of them.

Bracing himself for whatever answer might come, he asked, “Can I come over tonight?”

“You saw me,” Yoojung muttered sleepily. “I’m not fun to be around right now.”

“I’m not after fun.” He watched his bus approach the stop, but his feet stayed firmly in one place. “I'll be honest with you, I really don't want to go back to my apartment tonight. It just seems too empty at night. I might get a hotel room if you decide you don't want me to come over, but… no hotel room has you, which makes them all inferior in comparison.”

“Kyubin, I… It's not that I don't want to invite you. I just don't wanna regret it.”

Kyubin felt insecurity arise in him again, and a broken off piece of concrete felt the impact of his frustration as his shoe sent it into a nearby bush. “I understand. I haven't given you enough reason to believe you wouldn't regret it.”

“No, you have. I just think it would be easier if we didn't see each other for a while.”

“Easier,” Kyubin repeated absentmindedly. Easier was nowhere among the words that came to his mind when he thought about the nights ahead.

He heard Yoojung sigh quietly. “But also not. I don't know. Whatever, just come over.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. Just… keep your expectations low, okay?”

“Okay,” Kyubin promised. “I mean, I have no expectations. We don't even have to talk, I can just hang around. I miss spending time with you, that's all.”

He knew it was just wishful thinking, but he imagined Yoojung smiled as he replied, “Yeah, me too.”

After hanging up, he boarded the bus which would take him in Yoojung's direction. Although he did feel comforted by the slowly forming certainty that they were still heading toward something stable and long-term, he also felt an increasing pressure to be more reliable. For his and Yoojung's sake, he could not mess this up.

As he got off at Yoojung's stop and the bus drove away, a flower seller’s display drew his attention. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to walk over, but when the seller caught him eyeing the yellow roses and informed him, “This is the perfect flower to give a cherished friend,” it seemed too fateful to ignore.

Before ringing Yoojung's doorbell, he hid the rose behind his back, feeling its thorns dig gently into his palm.

Yoojung opened the door looking a bit troubled, his hair covered just like it was that morning. “I thought you’d be in later. Didn’t you go to the gym?”

“No, I'll go tomorrow. Or, wait, am I interrupting something? Do you want me to come back later?”

Yoojung shook his head and readjusted the hood, pushing his hair further back. “I was just trying to clean up. Didn't get too far. Whatever, come in. Don't mind the mess.”

Nothing about the flat seemed different from the last time Kyubin had seen it, and it certainly did not look messy. A few specks of dirt on the floor here, a bit of dust there, but nothing a quick sweep wouldn't fix. It was still as inviting as before.

He took a deep breath. “Something smells delicious. Cinnamon?”

“I made a bunch of hotteok. Eat all of them, if you want.”

That pricked Kyubin's curiosity. “Do you never eat your own bakes?”

Yoojung made a vaguely nonplussed sound. “You wouldn't be asking that if you knew how much fat and sugar is in me right now.” He frowned. “I mean, it's not that this is all I've been eating, it's just- nevermind.”

Kyubin nodded slowly, thankful to have something that could mend the tension he caused. He took a small step closer to Yoojung and revealed what he'd been holding behind his back. “This is for you.”

Yoojung stared at the rose blankly. “Why?”

“To put on your table, maybe? I don't know, I just thought it would look good here. It means friendship, apparently.”

Yoojung took it, and although he held it as gently as if it were made from fine porcelain, he didn't seem particularly happy with the gift. “Thanks.”

“You're not a fan of being given flowers,” Kyubin guessed.

“I'm a fan of living plants,” he explained. “Mine aren't thriving right now, so I'm not looking forward to seeing it die on my table. But thanks. This is nice. I'll try to keep it alive as long as I can.”

He grabbed a vase and took it to the kitchen to fill it with water, and Kyubin headed to the bathroom to wash his hands before enjoying the taste of a fresh bake.

Upon opening the door to the bathroom, he was hit by a smell so biting and chemical that a deeper inhale made him cough. He waved it away, recognizing it as nothing more than deodorant. Why he hadn't felt any of it on Yoojung, he had no idea.

As the light came on, his eyes immediately focused on a familiar sight in the laundry basket - bedsheets from their shared night. That's where the stench seemed to be coming from, so he approached it, searching for an explanation.

When he leaned over the dirty laundry, he realized there was a different, more rancid smell hiding beneath the chemical one. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what the source of it was until he noticed a pair of sweatpants in the basket. They had a stain starting at the crotch and going down one leg, its dark yellow outline explaining why Yoojung felt the need to spray deodorant over it so excessively.

Kyubin quickly took out his phone and stuck his head out of the bathroom to say, “I hope you don’t mind, I’m looking up ways to deal with that stain. Is it just the things in the basket or does your mattress also need- Oh, wait, here it says to use vinegar and baking soda. Do you have either?”

When he didn't hear a response, he raised his eyes from the screen to see Yoojung looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. He marched over, yanked Kyubin forward and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

“This was a mistake,” he said stiffly, clutching the handle with a tight grip. “Go. Forget you saw anything.”

“I’m not judging you,” Kyubin said calmly. “It’s a normal thing that happens sometimes, it's okay.”

“No, it's not,” Yoojung said, voice trembling with tension. “It's fucking humiliating.”

“I’m not trying to humiliate you, I just want to help.”

“Well, don’t. This is all my shit to deal with, not yours.”

Kyubin raised his hand to place it on Yoojung’s shoulder, but retracted it before Yoojung could see him do it, just in case he reacted by flinching again. “I know. I just… I don't want you to think you can't share it with me.”

Yoojung closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the door. His posture slowly grew less rigid, but he still sounded apprehensive when he asked, “How can you be so unbothered by this?”

“I don’t see any reason to be bothered,” Kyubin picked his words with caution.

“That doesn't explain why you're acting like none of this is a big deal. The guy you just started dating is the opposite of a functional adult, and you're not even shocked.”

“You saw me being the opposite of a functional adult on more than one occasion, and it’s never bothered you.”

Yoojung let out a resigned sigh. “Yeah, well. Your way of being a dysfunctional adult is different.” He sank down to the floor with his back to the door, and looked up at Kyubin with an almost bored expression. “Do you even get why this happened? This wasn’t an accident in the middle of the night. I chose to do it. I pissed all over myself because I was too lazy to get up. So, no, I don’t wanna hear you say that this is okay. It’s fucking disgusting. That’s what it is.”

Kyubin sat down by his side, a little further away than he wanted to. Once again, his hands itched to offer a comforting touch, but he talked himself out of it. Gestures like these were only self-serving until Yoojung made it clear he wanted to receive affection in this way. “I don’t believe it happened because you were lazy. My guess is that getting up to go to the bathroom might have felt too pointless to bother with it. A lot of things feel pointless to you now, right?”

Yoojung blinked, and his face slowly began to show something that was neither unease nor apathy. “Yeah, pointless is a good way to put it.” His voice resembled the one he used over the phone, which Kyubin took as a good sign. “How do you know?”

“I've been there, so I get how it feels. Almost everything felt pointless to me around the time we met. Now I can look back at it as nothing more than a rough patch thanks to a certain someone.” He held Yoojung's gaze until Yoojung looked down at his lap. “I’m just trying to be fair. You were a big help to me, and I want to be a help to you, too.”

Yoojung stared at his own hands intensely before standing up. “There’s baking soda in the cabinet near the window. Vinegar’s in the bottom one. Do what you want. I’m going to bed.”

After the bedroom door closed behind him, Kyubin stared at it, contemplating whether it was more rude to leave after offering help, or to stay after making Yoojung self-conscious barely five minutes into his visit. He didn’t have to weigh his options for too long before heading into the kitchen to grab the products Yoojung pointed him to and dealing with the stains on the sweatpants, bedsheet and duvet cover per instruction. No matter how long it's been since they've dried and how deeply the stench imbued every little fiber, he had to at least save the covers and preserve all the memories attached to them.

The article informed him that the material should soak preferably for a couple hours, but his attempt to wait patiently on the sofa didn’t last very long. Staring at the rose wasn't calming, it just reminded him of the fact that it would wilt and shed all its petals within a few days.

Even though he didn't feel he had anything to beat himself up over this time, it was hard not to glance at the bedroom door every other second, wondering if Yoojung already regretted inviting him over. No matter how certain he was that Yoojung would have done the exact same thing had their positions been switched, the silence filling every corner of the flat made unhelpful thoughts that much louder.

To redirect this restless energy toward something productive, he got to washing the heap of dishes gathered in the sink. Once they were all dry and placed in the right cupboards, he treated himself to a lukewarm hotteok. It came as no surprise how mouth-watering it was, and the nostalgia attached to the taste made him crave a sip of milk to wash it down.

Momentarily forgetting he wasn’t in his own kitchen, he opened the fridge, only to be hit with yet another hideous mixture of odors. That prompted him to check the expiration dates of everything in the kitchen to round down the worst offenders. He poured out the expired milk, threw out old takeout meat and moldy cheese, then removed all rotting fruit from the counter, upsetting a whole swarm of little flies in the process.

The fridge looked way too empty after he was done, so he wrote down the things he ought to replace. Leaving all the windows and bathroom door open to air everything out properly, he took the trash bag outside - along with the empty bottle of vodka he found standing by the trashcan - and then made a trip to the nearest grocery store.

It wasn't until he was leaving the store that it occurred to him he might find Yoojung's door locked when he gets back. Yoojung might've been waiting for him to leave this whole time, so then it would make sense if he took this opportunity to get some peace. That notion almost made Kyubin want to turn on his heel and leave before he could experience the rejection firsthand, but he decided to face the risk.

To his surprise, the door wasn't locked.

He cracked it open slowly, listening for any sound that would betray Yoojung had left his bedroom at all. Upon taking a few steps inside, he noticed the door to Yoojung's bedroom was slightly ajar; not enough to see inside, but enough to confirm he had every opportunity to lock Kyubin out, and chose not to do so.

That didn't mean the invitation to spend the night still stood, though, and approaching Yoojung with the question seemed inconsiderate at this point. Either Yoojung would strike up an interaction out of his own volition, or Kyubin would leave him be and get himself a bed elsewhere.

After the shopping bags were unpacked, he checked on the laundry laid out in the bathroom. As it turned out, his intervention was enough to salvage the sheet and duvet cover, and the sweatpants looked and smelled a lot better, too.

It took him a while to figure out the settings on the unfamiliar model of the washing machine. By the time he was done, it was already nearing 10 PM, and he was barely keeping his eyes open. All the rough nights of the last two weeks seemed to be catching up with him, and the couch looked too inviting not to rest for a moment. Ten minutes, he thought to himself as he plopped down onto the seat. Ten minutes, and then he’d decide what to do next.

The couch was situated in a perfect place to see into Yoojung's room a bit. There weren't any lights turned on, but he could discern a vague outline of a hood resting on the pillow. He imagined himself laying right beside him, their breaths slowly syncing, the cold wall pressing to his skin whenever his shirt rode up his back.

His eyes drooped in shorter and shorter intervals until his cheek hit the armrest.

He jerked awake at a creak nearby, and the dark silhouette leaning over him made him sit up in alert.

“Sorry,” Yoojung stage-whispered. “Didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Oh, it’s you,” Kyubin whispered back. He looked around the living room shrouded in grayish darkness, and registered that there was a blanket covering his body which he definitely didn't place there himself. “What hour is it?”

“One thirty. Are you comfortable?”

That question prompted pain to materialize in all spots of Kyubin's body that were used to a comfortable mattress and a pillow. “Not really.” He groaned as he rolled his shoulders and massaged an aching spot in his neck. “I didn't mean to fall asleep, sorry. I’ll get myself to my own bed.”

“You don't have to,” Yoojung said, and Kyubin wished the lights coming from the street were bright enough to allow him to see the expression accompanying this warmer tone. “You can stay, it's just… you shouldn't be exiled to the couch like this.”

“So I can join you in your bed?” Kyubin made sure.

Yoojung inhaled deeply like he was bracing himself for something difficult. “Two issues with that. First, I haven't put on a new sheet or covers.”

“No problem, I can put them on.”

“And second, I… I haven't taken a shower in over a week. Even after that thing that happened.”

“I can wash you, that's fine.” It took a second for his half-asleep brain to fully comprehend what he just suggested, and judging by the silence, Yoojung also didn't expect to hear anything of the sort.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded a lot more frigid this time. “I didn't lose the ability to shower, you know. I've got hands, I know what soap is.”

“I know, but… Taking a shower feels a bit pointless, right?” Kyubin asked as gently as he could.

“It doesn't.” Yoojung's silhouette was clearer now that Kyubin's eyes adjusted to darkness, and he watched him settle on the armrest by his feet. “Not now, at least. I already brushed my teeth, I might as well do this. I’ve been meaning to get to it all day, I just… haven’t.”

“Getting to it was always the hardest part for me,” Kyubin admitted. “Thinking about walking in there, turning on the water, waiting for it to turn the right temperature, all while standing upright the whole time. It seemed more difficult than a sprint on a treadmill. So, yeah, I get it.”

“But you did get to it,” Yoojung said flatly. “I know things weren’t fine for you when we met, but you always looked put together. You actually showed up to your responsibilities.”

“Only because I had a reputation to uphold. That was the one thing motivating me every step of the way, and you know how much it ate me up inside.”

Yoojung fiddled with the strings of his hoodie for a moment before he asked, “Was that person even you?”

“What do you mean?” Kyubin asked, unable to look away from the outline of his hands.

“I mean, when you look back at that time, do you recognize the person you were then as yourself?”

“I do, yes. A washed up version of myself, but ultimately not someone far from who I am now.”

Yoojung nodded, and it seemed like that was the answer he expected. “See, this isn't me. None of this is me. This is just someone who comes around sometimes and steals my body to mope around and do fuck all. I know it sounds weird, but that’s how it feels. It's all because of this thief. Do you believe me?”

“I do.” Kyubin could feel them getting close to breaching the topic of what the cause of this thief's arrival was, but he already decided he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up in more explicit terms. “I do, but… this is also you sometimes, and that’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay for you who has to go through it, but it’s okay, just, in general. It doesn’t scare me, is what I'm trying to say. I like you with or without the thief present. I just want you to know that.”

Even though Yoojung's face was shrouded in shadows, Kyubin could feel his gaze. He suspected Yoojung understood the subtext hiding beneath these words, and the longer the silence stretched, the more it seemed like he wasn't ready for the unsaid to become said.

All in all, this should have been the moment he got up and hid in his bedroom again, but instead, he asked, “Was this your first time saying it?”

“Hm?” Kyubin was too thrown off by how soft Yoojung sounded to get what he was referring to. “Saying what? Which part?”

“You told me before that you never confessed to anybody you liked. I'm the first to hear it, aren't I?”

“Oh, that’s what you meant.” He suddenly found his chest felt so light that he needed to laugh. “Yeah, I guess this was my first time saying those words out loud. It was much easier than I expected, that's for sure. Would've saved me a lot of stress in the past if I knew this is how it would go.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Yoojung said softly, and Kyubin really, really resented the moon for being such a poor source of light. “I know I already said it a bunch, but I like you too, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kyubin echoed with what he knew was the silliest smile. “Is that the final yes, then? Can I sleep in your bed?”

“I don't know. I don't wanna go back to sleep if it's not with you, but I know how filthy my body is. I hate being so used to my own smell that I can't even tell how gross it is. If there was a way to take a shower without moving a finger, I'd do it right away.”

“I suggested a way,” Kyubin reminded him. “And I still stand by it. If you want, I can help.”

“Yeah, no. Too weird.”

“If you say so,” he conceded. “It doesn't seem weird to me, but I've never washed anyone, so I wouldn't know.”

Yoojung scoffed quietly. “Sure, cause it's so normal to scrub dried piss off a guy you fucked one time.”

The distrust in his voice gave Kyubin pause. It didn't just feel like what he said made Yoojung self-conscious; it felt like Yoojung genuinely thought he was trying to make him self-conscious. “Yoojung, I'm not trying to pick on you,” he said delicately. “You know I'd never do that. I know this is an unusual situation we found ourselves in, but really, all I'm trying to do is help. I want to help.”

“I know,” Yoojung sighed. “I know that.”

Kyubin scooted closer to him, determined to get himself out of the couch exile. “So would you let me do this for you?”

Yoojung’s response was to stand up, and the ache in Kyubin's joints magnified. He almost got up to chase after him, but Yoojung didn't head toward the bedroom. Instead, he walked over to the bathroom.

He turned the light on and threw Kyubin a glance over his shoulder. “I need sleep, and you need sleep. Let’s just get this over with.”

Kyubin followed dutifully before Yoojung could have a change of mind, and closed the door behind them for a somewhat performative sense of privacy.

Yoojung was already in the process of taking off his hoodie, so Kyubin rushed past him to the shower stall and turned the water on.

“What temperature do you want?” he asked while taking the handshower off the wall. He looked over his shoulder to check Yoojung’s state of undress, but quickly snapped his head back around. He could still see a blurry, misshapen reflection of him in the shower head, and he busied himself with turning the knob to gauge its settings. “Hot, cold, lukewarm?”

“Whichever gets the job done,” Yoojung said pragmatically.

Kyubin let the water run until it warmed up, all the while trying to stay entirely calm about the situation he got himself into.

Until that point, his sleep-deprived brain hadn’t fully registered what the process of washing another person entailed. Now, he was fully awake, and he had no idea how he was going to do this in an impassive, cool-headed way. His body's base response didn't play any part in helping Yoojung clean himself, but it wasn't like he could just take his mind and all his good intentions out of his body to perform one task, and then seal himself whole again.

He heard the moment Yoojung threw the last item he was wearing into the laundry bin. Bare footsteps approached him from behind, and he sidestepped to let Yoojung into the stall, not allowing his eyes to linger on any part of him.

It felt too awkward to even fully face him, let alone reach behind him to turn the water on again and drench him from head to toe, so instead, Kyubin busied himself with searching through various cabinets.

“You can still change your mind,” Yoojung told him when Kyubin was taking a little too long deciding between two different bottles of body wash. “You can just leave me here with a soaped up sponge and hope I still know how to use it.”

Kyubin closed the cabinet with a decisive thud. Giving himself a credit of trust not to say anything stupid, he looked Yoojung in the eyes. “I said I'd help. Unless you tell me you don't want my help, I'm not leaving.”

He got a barely noticeable shrug in response, but even that small gesture was enough to remind him that he was supposed to be the unfazed and productive one in this situation. Yoojung was already experiencing enough discomfort. The last thing he needed was for Kyubin to start acting weird and evasive just because he was worried he'd humiliate himself.

“How should I start?” Kyubin asked, picking a bottle of body wash at random. “Where, I mean? What do you want me to wash first?”

Yoojung seemed distracted as his hand moved up to touch the ends of his hair, like his body knew the answer before he did. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around himself with his gaze directed at the floor, looking more misplaced and vulnerable than anyone had the right to in their own bathroom.

“How about you sit down?” Kyubin suggested, finding it much easier to be assertive when his sole focus was to protect. “It'll make washing you easier for me, and hopefully more comfortable for you.”

Yoojung complied, sitting down in the basin with his back turned to the rest of the room. Only then did he say, “Deal with my hair first. Please.”

“I’m on it. I'll be quick, I promise.”

Guiding the stream to soak only the hair without spilling a single drop on the floor was difficult in his rush to get Yoojung clean and relaxed as soon as he could. He paused only to cuff his sleeves after a careless movement drenched one of them up to the elbow, and then hastily made up for the lost few seconds.

To make sure no strand of hair stayed dry, he combed his fingers through Yoojung’s half-damp hair swiftly, a little too swiftly if the quiet hiss he heard after accidentally getting stuck on a tangled lock was any indication.

“Shit, sorry.” He gave the spot a gentle massage, and made sure his movements were less rash after that.

Washing another person was bound to be different from washing himself, he knew that. What he didn't expect was that it would make him feel like such an amateur at this decidedly mundane task.

When he bent over a sink half-awake to wash his hair, he could turn off his thinking and get it done on autopilot. Meanwhile, moving his hands through someone else’s hair with such clinical precision was exceedingly awkward. He understood what to do with his fingers as long as the sensitive nerve endings on his scalp responded to his movement, but when he couldn’t feel anything other than water and hair between his fingers, it was difficult to know when he was being too gentle or too forceful.

It all became easier when he took a deep breath of the distinct scent that had filled the air; herbal, gingery, calming and unforgettable.

As he was spreading the fragrant liquid from the dark roots of Yoojung's hair to the blond ends, a thought came to him that painting Yoojung in warm tones on a canvas wouldn’t be very different from this. It was all just taking something that was entirely meaningless on its own, then recontextualizing it around Yoojung’s body until it expressed his unique essence.

He felt a lot less clumsy after that as he rinsed the foam out of Yoojung's hair, then squatted down to douse his back and shoulders in warm water.

In his drowsy state, it was easy to zone out while moving the sponge up and down Yoojung's back. Falling into a routine motion, he placed the shower head down and used his free hand to spread the foamed up body wash around.

It wasn't until he felt how stiff the muscles above Yoojung's shoulder blades were that he hesitated. His initial instinct was to massage the tension away, but if the reason for it wasn't Yoojung's inactivity but rather the stress of the situation, he didn't want to make it worse. It was intimidating to see him so vulnerable, all exposed and hunched over as if to make himself appear smaller.

When he was done cleaning his back, he pushed the hesitation away and forced his fingertips to graze Yoojung's shoulder. He didn’t notice any sign of protest, so he attempted to bring relief to every tense spot his fingers found, pressing into them and drawing little circles with carefully controlled pressure. He supposed he was doing a good enough job when he heard a quiet sigh, and felt the muscles gradually relax.

“I’m done with your back,” he announced when he decided Yoojung was sufficiently loosened up. “Can you turn around?”

Yoojung didn’t react, so Kyubin focused on thoroughly squeezing out the sponge until every last drop to give him as much time as he needed.

Once Yoojung did turn around, he did so slowly, keeping his legs close to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, bringing them even closer till his chin touched his knees. Beneath the strands of hair precariously hiding his face, his gaze remained avoidant.

Kyubin touched his forearm. “I’ll try to be faster this time.”

Yoojung allowed Kyubin to guide his arm up to make washing it easier, and faced away before saying, “Make sure you get the job done. Don’t worry about being fast.”

“I’ll try to be both fast and meticulous,” Kyubin promised.

It would’ve been a lie to say Kyubin wasn't tempted to break the first half of that promise, but no matter how strong the temptation got, he didn’t slow down, refusing to give into the selfish impulse to savor this new, strange, exciting side of intimacy. Eventually though, he had to accept that he was deriving some enjoyment from this, and maybe that wasn’t such a big deal. After the two weeks he’s had, he thought he was justified in feeling relieved and grateful that Yoojung was allowing him to do this, to see him defenseless and unconcealed.

And yes, there was no pretending that he wasn't thrilled by this for other reasons, but this titillation had little in common with a primitive, physical response to being in proximity to someone attractive and naked. It was something far more mellow and undemanding than that.

He liked knowing that Yoojung was willing to offer him trust. He liked that when he moved the sponge up Yoojung’s arm to his shoulder, Yoojung immediately craned his neck to the side and moved his hair out of the way. He liked the stillness, the simplicity, the knowledge that he’d be laying down to sleep with the scent of Yoojung’s shampoo lingering on his fingers. He couldn't think of anything more lover-like than this.

He was halfway through guiding the sponge up Yoojung’s thigh when Yoojung grabbed his wrist, his grip tight and decisive.

Kyubin stopped moving immediately and looked at his face. “What's wrong?”

Yoojung shook his head lightly, but his hold didn't loosen. “Nothing, I just… I should stand up now, probably.”

“It would be easier to finish up if you do, yes, but I can try to get everything done without you having to stand up. You can keep sitting if you're tired.”

Yoojung's teeth tortured his lip for a moment before he reluctantly said, “Do as much as you can, and leave the worst to me.”

Kyubin slowly moved the sponge along his outer thigh to his knee, trying to gauge where the worst began and ended. After some careful exploration, he figured out that any part he didn’t have access to as long as Yoojung remained in the same position was the part he considered the worst. Kyubin could have argued that he didn’t mind at all, that no bodily fluids grossed him out to the point where he couldn’t wash them off the person whose existence gave him so much joy, but he decided not to push that boundary any further.

After he was done with bathing everything that was entrusted to him, he handed Yoojung the sponge and body wash, then politely averted his attention to move the laundry onto a drying rack and find a fresh towel.

He could hear how furiously Yoojung scrubbed himself clean, how aggressive and rushed every graze against his skin was. After seeing how devoid of strength he’d been all day, it seemed like he was conjuring up every last bit of energy into transferring all his negative emotions onto the small, porous object in his hand and every inch of skin it came in contact with.

When he heard Yoojung turn off the water, he could finally stop acting like he hadn't picked a towel the second he opened the cabinet.

He turned around to find Yoojung standing up, his thighs redder than any other part of his body. “One more rinse?” he asked, holding out the shower head in Kyubin’s direction.

“Sure.”

Kyubin accepted the shower head and gave Yoojung a small smile as he waited for him to turn the water back on. Yoojung didn’t make an effort to reach behind himself, though, and that was when Kyubin noticed Yoojung’s eyes were fixed on him without any of the previous reluctance. It made him feel put on the spot all of a sudden, like he was being analyzed, and it made him want to avoid meeting Yoojung’s gaze. He supposed this slight discomfort was only fair after everything he just put Yoojung through.

When he reached behind Yoojung to make the water pressure bigger, the sensitive underside of his forearm brushed Yoojung’s bare skin, and he could smell the scent that was uniquely Yoojung under all the fragrant products lingering on him. In a moment of weakness, his eyes followed the water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders, not stopping as it rolled lower and lower.

He swallowed, vowing to keep his attention solely on the piece of metal in his hand from that point.

With the water on and running, he focused on what he was supposed to be doing, which was a little complicated while trying to avert his eyes anywhere that wasn’t naked skin. He tried to keep his breathing shallow and quiet, but it seemed impossible to hide every little hint of how Yoojung’s proximity affected him in such a quiet, well-lit room. So much time spent without desiring him, and now it was hitting him all at once.

After a moment of nothing but the sound of water splattering against the basin, Yoojung asked, “Are you enjoying this?”

Kyubin halted for a second, then resumed as naturally as he could. No was on the tip of his tongue, but that would have been a blatant lie, and he didn’t want to lie. Yes was much closer to the truth, but he also didn’t want to plant the idea that he wanted something more out of this in Yoojung’s head. It felt like the hint of desire in his gut was a breach of trust, and like denying that it existed was a breach of trust as well.

“I’m not indifferent,” he said the most honest thing that came to mind.

“So, yes is the answer,” Yoojung summarized. “Why not just say that?”

Another silence-filled moment of searching for the best response. “I just want to be careful.”

“Why?”

Kyubin gave him a quick, confused look. “I’m trying to learn from my mistakes. I don’t want anything I say to sound hurtful.”

“I'm tougher than I look,” Yoojung murmured. “I can handle it.”

“I'm not saying you're not tough. Not wanting to hurt you has nothing to do with how tough you are.”

“I wasn’t hurt.”

Kyubin paused while reaching to turn the water off, unable to force his face into something less disbelieving. “It seemed like you were.”

Yoojung didn't respond, but he kept their eyes firmly locked, his face unreadable. Kyubin reached for the towel he prepared earlier and placed it around Yoojung’s shoulders, giving him a chance to take over drying himself if he wished.

Once again, all Yoojung did was keep staring. Then, he tugged the towel off his shoulders. “This one's for hands,” he said before handing it back. “Yellow for hair, white for body.”

“Oh, sorry.”

After quickly finding the right ones, Yoojung accepted the yellow one handed to him, and he began to dry his hair while Kyubin handled the rest.

It wasn’t until Yoojung had him on one knee, his foot resting on the towel draped over Kyubin’s thigh, that he quietly asked, “You thought I was too desperate, didn't you?”

“What?” Kyubin glanced up, and then quickly looked back down again. “No, not at all. You weren't asking for anything you don't have the right to ask me for.”

“But I freaked you out.”

“I wasn't freaked out,” Kyubin protested half-heartedly. “I was… concerned. It didn't seem like you had your own best interests at heart.”

Yoojung scoffed and pulled the towel off his head, leaving it to hang down by his side as water continued dripping from his hair. “I'd rather hear the truth than excuses, you know. You expected romance, not the blubbering mess I was. I get it, I get why, so just say it.”

“I’m sorry that’s how I made you feel,” Kyubin said, moving the towel gently over his skin despite there being no more moisture left to absorb. “I admit, I was out of my depth. I couldn't tell how I was supposed to react, and I'm sorry for how I handled it. I wanted you to feel okay, but I didn't know how to make that happen.”

“I was literally telling you how.”

“You were trying to take off my pants while saying it wasn't about a blowjob.”

“Yeah, cause I didn't need dick. I needed you.”

Kyubin gazed up at him, his thumb caressing the skin below Yoojung's ankle. “Needed me in what way?”

Yoojung pulled his foot out of Kyubin's hold and snatched the towel back. “I don't know. Doesn't matter. Move over, I’m getting out.”

“Oh, sorry.” Kyubin scrambled up to let him out. “Can I take a quick shower as well? I hate falling asleep in my day clothes, and now I’m all wet anyway, so-”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

Kyubin went through the motions of soaping himself up and rinsing off automatically with his eyes drooping under the warm stream of water. Only when he placed the shower head back in its place and turned to exit the stall did he realize Yoojung had been leaning against the doorframe and observing his every move.

The flustered laugh that tore out of him sounded too loud in the silent bathroom. “Were you enjoying the view?”

Yoojung tilted his head a little, his gaze never straying from Kyubin's face. “I like your reactions.”

“Reactions to what? You making me flustered?”

“To everything. There's always a surprise somewhere.” He handed Kyubin a fresh towel, t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

After a hasty rub off to be somewhat dry, Kyubin threw on the clothes without a care for which side was front and back, ready to just fall onto a flat surface and let sleep carry his consciousness away until his alarm inevitably woke him.

It wasn't until they stepped into the bedroom that he remembered his promise to change the sheets, but to his delight, Yoojung informed him, “I put a fresh sheet and cover on while you were in the shower. New pillowcase, too.”

There was a hint of pride Kyubin heard in his voice when he said, “That's great. That's really great.”

Yoojung paused with his hand on the light switch. “Told you I still have hands.”

“I didn’t mean for that to sound insincere, sorry. I’m relieved you’re taking these steps. Genuinely.”

“Thanks,” Yoojung whispered, and the room went dark.

Kyubin immediately headed for the bed, sighing when he felt the soft mattress beneath his knees. He crawled to his spot by the wall, though before he could lay down, his hands found an odd shape on the pillow. Upon inspection, he realized the soft object had button eyes and long ears.

“Did I get it right?” he asked Yoojung who was still hovering by the door. “Is this your favorite?”

“It is. How'd you guess?”

“It looked well-hugged.” Since his filter was already nonexistent, he added, “You put it right where I slept that one night. Was it a replacement for me?” After a few seconds of silence, he realized the question was more loaded than he could process in this state of drowsiness.

Before he could even open his mouth to backtrack and laugh it off, Yoojung asked, “You want a handjob or something?”

“Uh,” Kyubin replied eloquently. No was the answer he was aiming for, but he still had enough self-preservation to try and be diplomatic about it. “I think we’re both too tired for that now. Me, I mean. I’m too tired.”

Yoojung sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I don't know why I said that. Actually, that's not true. I know why. It got silent, and it got awkward.”

“We can just go to sleep,” Kyubin said, sounding more hopeful than he intended. “Anything else can wait til tomorrow. Or later today, I guess.”

Yoojung didn't make a move to lay down, the faint street light illuminating his hunched shoulders and lowered head.

Sensing that there was something on his mind he could only express in the comfort of darkness, Kyubin stifled an incoming yawn and waited, giving his arm a pinch to stay alert when silence stretched.

“Anytime things get quiet for a second too long, I feel like I’m about to say something I’ll regret,” Yoojung confessed. “Even something simple like I'm sorry. I don't wanna say I'm sorry. I hate how self-pitying that sounds.”

Kyubin's hands itched to offer a reassuring touch, but he kept them to himself. “What do you think you have to apologize for?”

Yoojung shrugged. “False advertising?”

“You never advertised yourself in any way to me. You told me things you felt comfortable telling me. That’s normal.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. This just sucks. All of it. Not you, you're nice. Too nice, maybe. I keep wanting to tell you I'm sorry you have to do this, now do it more.” He let out a tired laugh. “I’ve done enough stalling, I'll stop.”

Contrary to his words, he didn’t elaborate further. Kyubin shifted closer to sit by his side, taking the plushie with him. He handed it to Yoojung, and saw him begin to take out his distress on its floppy ears.

“I just hate that I have to complicate stuff between us, you know? But that’s what being with me comes along with, and I’m not apologizing for shit that’s out of my control. So, um. The reason I'm like this is because I've got bipolar disorder, type two. Do you know what that means?”

Kyubin nodded. “Yes, I read up on it recently. I don’t know what it’s like to live with it, so if you ever want to share, I'm all ears.”

The few seconds of silence that followed felt heavy.

“So you knew,” Yoojung said, his state of mind unreadable from his voice.

“I suspected, that's all.”

“So what now?”

Kyubin looked up from the plushie being squashed by anxious hands. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think about it?”

“I… I think it must be difficult for you, and I hope you're getting the help you need.”

Yoojung seemed surprised only for the briefest of seconds. “I take meds, yeah. Not always regularly, but I try. And I avoid alcohol since it can make the symptoms worse.” He shrugged, his shoulder brushing against Kyubin’s. “But what’s life without a little irresponsibility, am I right?”

“Yes, probably.” Kyubin hesitated before asking, “Would this have happened if it wasn’t for… everything that went down that day? Because when I was reading up on this, I saw that depressive episodes usually happen right after the manic ones, but you had a whole week in between, so I was just wondering if-”

“You didn’t make this happen,” Yoojung cut in. “Neither did the email. That's just how it is sometimes. That’s all there's to it.”

“I see,” Kyubin exhaled in relief. “Well, that’s… I mean, thank you. I can see it wasn’t an easy thing to share, and I’m grateful you trust me with it.”

Yoojung elbowed him gently. “Enough serious talk. You’re here to sleep.”

“Mhm,” Kyubin muttered, already scooting back to lay down. He saw Yoojung put the plushie on his bedside table before laying down, facing Kyubin, but leaving a lot more space between them than the last time they were in this position.

Kyubin was too close to dozing off to discuss whether Yoojung wanted to be touched or not, so he simply laid his hand on the empty bit of mattress and closed his eyes.

He was already practically unconscious when he felt the comforting pressure of Yoojung’s hand settling on his.

He awoke to the sound of rhythmic patting against the window. His hand rested in the same spot, empty, and when his eyes opened, he saw Yoojung laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

Even by seeing his side profile, he could tell the vacant look in Yoojung’s eyes hadn’t gone away. He felt a nudge to force some cheerfulness into his voice as he greeted, “Good morning. How’re you feeling?”

“Don’t know,” Yoojung replied, not making an effort to look at him. “The same, I guess.”

Kyubin’s attention moved over to the grayness behind the window. The plants on the windowsill were a sad sight in comparison to how he’d last seen them, and the streaks of water coming down the glass only seemed to intensify the longer he looked. None of it created an atmosphere encouraging to get up and go about his day.

“How long have you suspected?” Yoojung asked suddenly.

“Hm?” Kyubin looked at him, not awake enough to connect the dots.

Yoojung shifted onto his side to face him, still avoiding his eyes. “Since when did you suspect I’m bipolar?”

The wariness in his voice made Kyubin consider telling a lie about his suspicions being more recent than they were, but he settled on telling the truth. “Since we went out for ice cream. Some of the things you did then worried me, so I looked for possible explanations.”

“Seriously? You knew all this time, and you didn't bring it up?”

“Well, no,” Kyubin said, wondering if he should apologize. “I was waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”

It wasn't long before the tense look on Yoojung's face shifted into something softer. “I would’ve told you if you asked me. At least I think I would've. Cause I did prepare to explain everything after you saw me being hypomanic, but once we were talking, I couldn’t get the words out. I don't know how to talk about it.”

“Were you worried I'd react badly?”

“No. I don't know. I thought you wouldn't know what it is. Best case scenario, you'd ask some questions and believe me when I say this doesn't have to affect you in any way.” He looked earnest as he said, “It still doesn't, you know. We can agree not to see each other for a week or two when the thief comes around, and we can agree to pretend that's normal.”

The initial jolt of excitement that Yoojung was actively considering their future felt inappropriate within the context, so Kyubin tried not to let it show. “I think we should do what's most convenient for you at any given moment. If you'd rather be alone, I can stay away. If you need help, or simply someone to sit in silence with, you can let me know, and I'll come over.”

Yoojung hesitated. “Thing is, I can be difficult when I'm like this. I'm not saying this to self-deprecate, I mean it. I'd probably say a bunch of mean, vile shit just to hurt you and make myself even more miserable. I don't know if I'd be able to look you in the eyes ever again after that.”

Kyubin leaned over him to kiss his head, getting a whiff of the familiar scent. “The offer still stands. If you don't feel like dealing with everything alone, I hope you'll consider me as your first choice. Now, would you like some breakfast?”

“Ugh, please. If I eat any more sugar, I'll throw up.”

Kyubin decided not to admit that his plan was to serve up the remaining hotteok with some cold milk in a glass. “Alright. I’ll try to whip up something with no sugar in it.”

Standing in front of the fridge with no clue how to turn its contents into something interesting made Kyubin resent how easily he'd settled into the bachelor lifestyle. Too many precooked meals, not enough skills acquired to make a mildly impressive meal for their very first shared breakfast.

Yoojung walked into the kitchen just as he was transferring scrambled eggs from a pan onto plates.

“I thought rice would take too long, so I made toast,” he said as he set the plate before Yoojung. “Also, I couldn't find any salt or soy sauce. Sorry.”

Yoojung took a pair of chopsticks and dug into the eggs straight away. “It's my kitchen, don't say sorry for not finding something in it.”

“I could’ve thought of it yesterday while shopping.” He watched Yoojung chew the first bite, trying to read from his face if he was enjoying the taste or not. “Is this the blandest breakfast you've ever had?”

“It’s fine. Bland, yeah, but at least it won't rot my teeth. So, thanks.”

“Happy to serve.” He sat across from Yoojung, not keen to start eating his own portion just yet. “Can I ask what it is about baking that makes you want to do it even when everything else feels pointless?”

“It’s easy,” Yoojung said nonchalantly. “Throw some stuff together, put it in the oven, make the whole kitchen smell nice.”

“Really, that's all? It seems a bit more complicated than that.”

“My grandma taught me a lot of the basics, so it feels like I've known this stuff forever. Her kitchen always smelled divine. I never managed to recapture that scent.” He stopped chewing for a moment to stare blankly at his plate, like his mind drifted far away into the memories.

“Is that how you want to spend today as well?” Kyubin asked gently. “Baking?”

The distracted look disappeared from his face instantly. “No. I have to go to work. Gotta talk to Sieun about how I can make my absence up to her.”

It took Kyubin a second to get who and what he was talking about. “Oh, right, her. Have you come up with a different way to do that than taking over her shifts?”

“I managed to bribe the guy I worked with before by giving him all the tips I earned for the next month. Might work again.”

“I hope it does.” Kyubin glanced at the clock which showed a few minutes past seven. “Your shift starts at one, right?”

Yoojung nodded.

“Do you have to come in earlier to prepare the food, or…?”

“Boss never lets me sell my stuff,” Yoojung replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “We get everything delivered. So, yeah, I've got a few hours to kill.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Kyubin. “You're planning to be late for work so you can hang out with me.”

Kyubin smirked. “What's life without a little irresponsibility? Would you like to watch something, or maybe-” A ping from his phone interrupted him. “Hold on one second.”

Though he was skeptical that the response from BlueBlueSeoul would come at such a convenient moment, he checked the notification. As expected, it was only a reminder for a morning meeting, but he used the opportunity to check his email in case it carried hopeful news for Yoojung.

“Waiting for something important?” Yoojung asked.

“Not important, no,” he lied.

Yoojung raised his eyebrows. “Your face doesn't agree.”

Kyubin took a big bite of his toast, giving himself a moment to consider if it was smart to let Yoojung in on the secret before he received any concrete details.

“I don’t want to give you false hope,” he started hesitantly. “It’s just that I was talking to Junhyung, and he told me Sungho rejected the offer to join BlueBlueSeoul. I wrote to them to ask what they're planning to do about it in case you were their next choice, but so far, no response.”

“If they wanted anything to do with me, they would've contacted me,” Yoojung said dryly.

“I guess you're right,” Kyubin had to admit. “And you're sure you didn't miss any calls, or that their emails didn't go to spam, or-”

“Just forget this, yeah?”

Kyubin nodded. “Okay. Sorry.”

Yoojung chewed in silence for a moment before looking at him again. “If I opened my own coffee shop, would you help out with the accounting?”

“I… would. Is that something you’re considering?”

Yoojung shrugged. “I don't have the money for it now, but it's a plan.”

“Right,” Kyubin said slowly. “I just- I thought working as a barista is a temporary necessity for you, not a career you want to dedicate your life to.”

Yoojung shrugged again. “Let’s face it, this auditioning thing was never gonna last long. And working at a café isn't so bad. I'm good at making coffee. I'm good at baking. I can grovel for a tip like no one else.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that he didn’t hate that option with his entire heart, and Kyubin hated hearing him be so down on himself.

It would have been easy to dismiss this idea as one born of temporary self-doubt, something that would pass the second Yoojung started to feel more like himself again. Even if that was true, Kyubin couldn't just sit by without making an effort to uplift him.

As he put their plates in the sink, he asked, “If I drove over here in my car in, let’s say, forty minutes, would you let me take you somewhere?”

Yoojung looked both apprehensive and intrigued. “Where?”

“How about the Yellow Sea? If we take the highway, there's a strong chance I'll bring you back in time for your shift. What do you think about that?”

He felt Yoojung's eyes on himself the whole time while washing the dishes. When he turned around, he found Yoojung looking at him with something that wasn’t yet a smile, but was definitely a promise of one.

“I think I did the right thing when I let you come over yesterday,” he said.

Kyubin changed out of the borrowed shirt and pants not without regret since lounging around in Yoojung's clothes until noon seemed like a great way to pass time.

Despite his effort to park as close to the entrance as possible, Yoojung got into the passenger's seat with his hair soaked.

Kyubin grabbed the extra waterproof jacket he had the foresight to bring. “It doesn't seem like the weather is going to be any better by the sea, so take this.”

Yoojung seemed hesitant to touch it at first, and when he did, his hands acted as if they were given custody over something far more precious than a bundle of waterproof material. It reminded Kyubin of how he held the rose in his hands. “Thanks.” He folded it up carefully before placing it in his lap.

After maneuvering the car to get back on the road, Kyubin passed him the cord. “Would you like to play something?”

Yoojung pushed the cord his way. “Your turn. I wanna know what you listen to.”

Kyubin smiled sheepishly. “I don’t want to admit how incredibly boring I am, but I usually just put the radio on. I don’t have a cultivated taste like you do.”

“Then let’s listen to whatever’s on the radio.”

As always, the radio played a wide selection of sorrowful ballads from the top of the charts, cheerful idol music and trot songs with a hook designed to burrow into the listener's head and not leave for days. Kyubin kept switching the stations in hope of finding anything that he thought would align with Yoojung's taste until he heard the smooth sound of violins, and his finger stilled.

“Would it be okay if I let this play a little longer?” he asked.

"Yeah, it's nice,” Yoojung said, already curled up in his seat, holding the bundled up jacket in his arms as if it was a plushie. “It's relaxing.”

The downpour followed them out of Seoul, but the only reminders of the awful weather outside were the heavy splatters against the roof and windshield wipers occasionally obscuring Kyubin's view of the road. Inside the car, it felt like the sunniest day Kyubin had ever known.

He kept taking his eyes off the road, unable to get used to the sight of the passenger's seat not being empty. Even when he wasn't looking directly, he could see Yoojung swaying his head along with the more dynamic melodies, his fingers tapping out the rhythm against his arm. Even though Kyubin didn’t feel the need to do that himself, he understood the urge.

It was impossible not to let the harmonious swell of instruments carry him away into fantasies of another trip like this one, but on a sunnier day with a sunnier Yoojung. Windows rolled down, wind rustling their hair, Yoojung’s laughter drowning out the music, and Kyubin doing his best not to pull over so they could make out in the backseat.

“You're not boring,” Yoojung said suddenly. His tone of voice didn’t sound very sincere, but Kyubin could see past the lethargy and see that he meant what he was saying. “Liking classical music more than modern stuff doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

Kyubin smiled. Maybe this trip wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and that was pretty damn perfect on its own. “I don’t know if I like it more, but I certainly like it more than I thought I did. I used to avoid stations that play it.”

“Why?”

For such a simple question, it took a lot of effort to come up with an answer. “I don't really know. I guess it always seemed unapproachable to me, like I was expected to listen to it for some intellectual experience instead of enjoying it for what it is. But I am enjoying it now, so I might’ve been wrong about that.”

“Hm.” Yoojung shifted in his seat to face him. “Let me guess. You had to attend a bunch of music lessons as a kid. Piano? Violin? Clarinet?”

Kyubin chuckled. “No, signing me up for music lessons would've been the normal thing to do. I was supposed to be educated about high art, but never participate in it.”

Yoojung took a moment to process that. “Huh. Weird. Even people who respect art don’t want to raise an artist.”

“Right, especially a gay one. A gay artist is every parent’s worst nightmare.”

Yoojung didn’t reply to that.

Kyubin took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at him, and the grim look he saw on Yoojung’s face forced him to quickly search for a distraction from whatever was happening in his mind. “So, uh, funny story while we're on the topic. There was this one time we were on holiday in Paris, and my parents took me to an opera. I was told it had a really dramatic plot with lots of twists and turns, but of course, I couldn't understand anything. I wasn't even tall enough to see the stage, so I ended up staring at the hairpin of the lady in front of me the whole time, and… And now that I’m saying it out loud, I’m realizing it’s not that funny of a story.”

"You've been to Paris?" Yoojung asked quietly.

"Yeah, I-" He paused, a shiver of shame rocking through him as he realized how tactless he was. “Nevermind. I'm sorry for bringing this up."

After a painfully awkward pause filled with violins harmonizing with the engine, Yoojung asked, "How was it?"

“I don't remember much,” Kyubin admitted. “It was mostly just confusing to suddenly be in a place where I couldn’t communicate with anyone and constantly felt like people were staring at us. It was the nineties, but still. It’s just a city like any other.”

The rain still wasn't letting up, and the leisurely string piece on the radio seemed to drag on without an end, making Kyubin restless in the lingering tension.

He was about to switch the station to something more cheerful when the song finally came to an end, and the radio host took over to talk about the details of the composer's life.

As if the pleasant atmosphere wasn't tainted enough, the host finished his monologue by saying, “Next up, a piece which culminates the second act of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, which some argue to be the composer’s magnum opus. Though initially the ballet was considered a failure, it has become a-”

Yoojung switched the radio off.

With an hour of driving ahead of them, all Kyubin could do was keep quiet until they reached the sea. Once Yoojung found himself in his special place, the clouds in his heart would disperse, and the stupid things Kyubin said would start to seem insignificant next to the thoughtful, earnest gesture of bringing him there.

At least that's what Kyubin strongly hoped would happen.

He was prepared for the rest of their drive to go by like this, every second brimming with tension and unease, but after a few long, long minutes, Yoojung turned to him again.

“Can you tell me what you thought about my audition choreo? And don't filter it. I want painful honesty.”

Kyubin had replayed parts of it in his mind before he fell asleep that night, but even then, he couldn’t come up with a concise interpretation. The radiance Yoojung exuded when he immersed himself in his passion was very distracting, so with the option of instant replay taken away, all he was left with was his initial impression from the one time he got to see the choreography.

“I thought it was at odds with itself,” he said. “Like you were trying to sort through the chaos of everything you’ve ever felt.”

“So it was incoherent,” Yoojung summed up, and it sounded like Kyubin just confirmed his worst suspicions.

“No, I- Please, keep in mind that I’m not good at interpreting this stuff, and I’m definitely forgetting a whole lot of details right now. It wasn't incoherent, just… self-contradictory, I suppose. But it looked intentional. I saw you trying to get that across, and it looked really beautiful. This isn't just flattery, by the way, I'm being painfully honest right now. It was beautiful, and I’d happily watch it again, over and over.”

“Wasn’t that bad, then,” Yoojung said under his breath.

Kyubin wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear that, so he allowed the conversation to fizzle out there, before it went south again.

Yoojung turned the radio back on, and the pleasant melodies accompanied them until they reached a parking spot near the beach. Despite a few other cars parked nearby, there were no people in sight, which was a relief.

“We can’t stay long if you want to make it back in time,” Kyubin warned as he turned off the engine. “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”

Yoojung undid his seatbelt and got out of the car before Kyubin could pose the question whether he wanted to be followed.

Kyubin watched his own jacket flutter in the wind as Yoojung headed toward the beach, its motion eerily similar to the waves ahead. He saw Yoojung pull it tighter around himself, and something about that gesture made his insides itch with an unnamed longing. It wasn't even like he'd worn that jacket often, but at that moment, seeing how it shielded Yoojung from the cold wind, it felt like a part of him.

Deciding this train of thought was a little too sappy for his liking, he shook off the sentiment and exited the car.

Yoojung had already reached the sea by the time Kyubin stepped foot on the sand. Only a few small raindrops fell on his head as he walked, but the wet sand made it known that heavy rainfall was prevalent in the last hours.

He joined Yoojung in standing close to the waves forming and crashing with an irregular rhythm, the most ambitious ones reaching the tips of their shoes, and he took a deep breath of the faint, salty scent. Too many years have passed since his last trip to the beach. Too many summers wasted on work and enclosing himself in his four boring, gray walls.

Refusing to get caught up in a downward spiral of regret about the past, he looked over at the man next to him.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. Certainly not anything resembling overt happiness, but an optimistic spark in his eyes, a smile tinted with nostalgia, something that showed Yoojung knew he was going to be okay.

In reality, Yoojung didn't look nostalgic nor optimistic, but all his lethargy was seemingly gone. He appeared focused, deep in thought as his eyes slid across the waves like they offered answers written in sea foam.

After a moment of nothing but intense staring, he exhaled heavily. “Well, this is eye-opening, isn't it?”

His gloomy tone immediately put Kyubin on his toes. “What is?”

Yoojung spread his arms wide to indicate the sea before them. “The bigger picture. The real, moving picture, that for some reason I never stopped to consider my grandma might’ve been wrong about. Why did I never do that? Why the fuck am I only realizing this now?”

“What did you realize?” Kyubin asked tentatively, starting to regret the decision to bring him here.

“That my grandma was just old and she had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. I mean, what other explanation is there? How can anyone look at this, and think that waves never stay the same? They don't change. They move, sure, but they don't change. They're just really fucking repetitive and completely pointless.” He put his hands around his mouth and yelled at the sky, "Got news for you, grandma! Your metaphor is shit!"

"I think all she was trying to say is that hard times don't last forever,” Kyubin attempted to placate him.

"Yeah, cause life doesn't last forever. Right, grandma?!" He laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. "No, listen, it's fine. Eventually, you gotta face that you're just a tiny, useless ripple on a huge ocean, constantly crashing on the shore and never learning from it. Getting nowhere, reaching nothing, achieving nothing, and still coming back for more.”

Kyubin's gut twisted as he looked at the waves. He wished he didn't see the logic behind Yoojung's words as clearly as he did, but he understood how Yoojung felt at that moment with uncomfortable clarity. “No, this- this is nothing like you. I agree that it feels intimidating when the ocean is so vast and a single wave is so little and short-lived, but waves are just- they're wind and gravity moving the water. You're a person with a goal that you put a lot of effort into. There’s nothing pointless or useless about any of that.”

“No? Watch.” Yoojung kicked the sand, and the next wave erased any trace of the disruption. "See? Nothing changes, no matter what I do.”

He sat down on the sand and drew his knees to his chest, face hidden and ears covered, as if that could make the sea disappear.

Kyubin stayed still and quiet, afraid to rattle him even more.

A seagull perched on a wooden post nearby and looked at them with one eye. Kyubin observed it until the bird realized it wasn't getting any food and took off, and he followed it with his eyes until it turned into a small dot against the sky.

He hoped he wasn't making a mistake by placing his hand on Yoojung's head. To his surprise, Yoojung immediately pressed into his touch, and then leaned against his leg.

Kyubin stilled, unable to move even a finger in fear that the slightest shift would scare Yoojung away from this entirely new form of affection.

“I’m just so tired,” Yoojung whispered, and it was a wonder that Kyubin heard it over the crashing waves. “I'm tired of trying. Of thinking. Even feeling is exhausting.”

“There are good things about being able to feel,” Kyubin reminded him gently, taking a risk by moving his hand down the side of Yoojung’s head. “I know it’s difficult to believe now, but this will pass. It’s passed before, and it will pass again. You'll regain your passion and your energy.”

“It’s not just that. This audition, it… it feels like a sign that this is just how it's always meant to be. I can keep giving it my all, but it'll never be enough. It’s like I got stuck in a loop where the only thing that’s up to me is to stop or keep going. And I keep going, cause that’s just what I do. I always keep going. Even when the effort stopped making sense a long time ago.”

“You did get to the final round,” Kyubin pointed out. “I know it's not much consolation now, but you're clearly making progress. This was just another stepping stone, and now you're closer to your goal than ever before.”

Yoojung shook his head. “You saw how unprofessional I was while preparing for this audition. I blew my one shot at the best opportunity I've ever had because I was wasting time on stupid bullshit.”

“But that was just because of your episode, right? You don't control when they happen, so it wasn't your fault that that's how it went down.” It was only when he finished speaking that it dawned on him this was exactly the issue, and he wasn’t saying anything helpful.

“Exactly,” Yoojung said dryly, like he could hear Kyubin's thought process. “They were right not to accept me in. I'd just waste their time, like I wasted mine.”

Kyubin watched another wave break out and helplessly splurge on the sand. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how out of control life must feel when one’s own mind can’t be trusted to stick to its principles.

“Do you feel betrayed by the sea?” he asked. When all Yoojung did was give him a half-tired, half-annoyed look, he clarified, “I know how that sounded, but this was an important symbol to you. It must hurt to see it in an entirely different light for the first time, especially when you need it most.”

“Yeah,” Yoojung sighed. “It's not great.”

Kyubin cast his gaze to the horizon where the clouds were beginning to clear. “It’s quite a sight though, isn't it? I think I could spend an entire day looking at it, from sunrise to sunset.”

“I know you're going somewhere with this, but I'm not in the mood to decode another metaphor.”

“I’m not entirely sure where I'm going with this either,” Kyubin laughed nervously. “I just don't think this is something to get discouraged over. Nobody sees a pointless struggle when they look at the sea. They see something worth admiring. I see a nice place to bring someone I care about to cheer him up.”

He felt Yoojung rub his cheek against his leg, and it made him feel only a little bit insane.

“Thanks for trying to make me less miserable,” Yoojung said quietly.

“Is it working?”

“Not really. But thanks anyway.” He pushed himself up to his feet and gave the sea one final resentful glance before turning on his heel. “Let's go. Responsibilities await.”

The whole way back to the car, Kyubin mulled over what he could do to prevent Yoojung from leaving this place feeling defeated. He did not like the idea that Yoojung might forever associate seeing his face with the defiled memory of things he used to hold special, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. The next best thing was to show Yoojung he had someone on his side to support him, and that seemed to be working out quite well for him so far.

He picked a different route this time, one that led along the sealine for a couple miles longer.

Yoojung’s eyes remained glued to the waves from the moment they got on the road. The view behind the window grew less and less gloomy with every passing minute, but the clearing sky didn't reflect Yoojung's attitude. Somewhere in his head, the thief was working to convince him of horrible lies, and Kyubin had to fight back. Even if Yoojung didn't start believing in himself afterwards, at least he would hear that someone else does.

He waited until they were back on the highway to turn down the volume of the radio. “Listen, I just want to say that if you choose to take a break from auditions, I completely understand. It's not easy when the people making these decisions have such high standards, and you should do what you think is best for you. I just… I think it’s easy to get discouraged when those are the people you focus on, but those aren’t the people you’re doing this for, right? You want to reach an audience that feels something when they look at your work, and there are people out there who haven't had the chance to see your work yet. When they do, they will experience it so deeply that they will carry a piece of it with themselves for the rest of their lives. And who knows, maybe some already have. They just haven't told you.”

Yoojung made a noncommittal sound, not taking his eyes off the views behind the window. “Sounds like holding on to false hope. But go ahead, believe that if you want. I'm not doing this again.”

Kyubin was ready to give up right then and there, but before he could turn up the volume of the inappropriately cheerful harp piece, Yoojung turned to him.

“I was reading all the comments under our practice videos this week. Saw lots of compliments there. Some about my outfits, some about my hair, some with timestamps for a moment when I looked sexy, or handsome, or pretty.” He shrugged, looking down at the jacket in his lap. “It got me thinking how many people would care about my dancing if they didn't think I’m hot.”

“A lot of them,” Kyubin assured him. “Some might be shallow, yes, but I saw comments that were more thoughtful than that. They see how much thought you put into every single detail, and they see your passion. I don’t think it devalues their opinion if they also think you’re attractive on top of that.”

“Don’t know why I brought this up,” Yoojung muttered. “You’re, like, the prime example of what I’m talking about.”

Kyubin wished this comment didn’t get under his skin as much as it did, but a part of him had to admit Yoojung was right. No matter how strongly he believed Yoojung’s talent was an objective truth that was plain for anyone to see, he struggled to put himself in the shoes of someone not attracted to him. That rendered any opinion he had on the subject pretty useless.

“Don’t take my word for it, then. Those who stopped to watch you in the park did so because they were impressed with your performance. Well, granted, that one woman asked for your phone number, but the rest was-”

“The rest stopped because I was making a spectacle of myself,” Yoojung said dispassionately. “They would’ve stopped for anything that moved.”

Kyubin pushed down the helpless frustration at Yoojung’s insistence to find the bleakest possible explanation. Some of this negativity was starting to seep into his own mindset, persuading him to stop looking for methods of encouragement since he couldn’t come up with anything convincing that would also be grounded in reality. He sold Yoojung an overly hopeful fantasy once, and he wasn’t going to do that again.

Yoojung also seemed to come to the conclusion that there was nothing left to say, because he turned the music back up and faced away from Kyubin as much as he could within the confines of his seatbelt, putting a clear end to the conversation.

For the next twenty or so minutes, Kyubin got to know the full scope of how truly uncomfortable silence could be.

He hated leaving Yoojung to sit alone with his thoughts. He could almost hear how they ate away at his self-esteem, regurgitating the thief’s lies and overshadowing everything he knew to be true about himself. Not even an orchestra with a full string section could drown that out.

When he saw a sign for a gas station, he made a turn for it, with no plan in mind other than to put a stop to this unsettling agitation that’s been appearing in his chest as of late.

“Do you need the bathroom?” he asked after turning off the engine. “Or a coffee, or something to eat?”

Yoojung didn’t acknowledge that he heard the questions in any way. All he did was lean his head against the window.

“Alright then,” Kyubin said lightly, doing his best not to sound distraught. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

While filling up the tank, he saw Yoojung staring blankly out the window at nothing in particular. It was eerie how little expression there was on his face, how little proof of the bright flame that used to warm Kyubin's hands whenever he stepped close.

For some reason, this made him think about a possible future in which he would be faced with the thief again, perhaps in a few weeks or months. Perhaps he could learn enough about Yoojung by then to read his needs from a single look, no matter how little it communicated.

He didn't know if a future like that was possible, but one thing was certain - he wanted to try his hardest to create it.

Before going up to the counter to pay, he looked around the shop and picked a chocolate bar at random, and placed it on the dashboard in front of Yoojung when he got back to the car. “Here, I bought this for you. I don’t know what type you like, but I hope this one’s fine.”

To his relief, Yoojung showed interest in the gift. He rotated it in his hands very slowly, making small, careful tears in the paper until he finally revealed enough of the inside to break off a piece and put it in his mouth.

Kyubin put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it to keep the silence going for a little longer. “I know this doesn't mean much coming from me,” he started, noticing that Yoojung stopped chewing, “but I really think the stuff you do is amazing. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as strongly about it if I didn’t like you, but I do like you, and I do feel strongly about it. The very first time I saw you, you were dancing around with a mop instead of cleaning the floor, and that was enough to make me want to keep looking at you. And then you performed something right in front of me, just because you wanted to share the result of your hard work, and it was more than just beautiful. It was poignant, and vivid, and staggering to watch. If I was passing by that night and saw you perform for someone else, I would have done everything in my power for a chance to see you dance again.”

“My number one fan,” Yoojung said, and his tone made Kyubin assume he was being sarcastic until Yoojung shifted in his seat and offered him a piece of chocolate. “I know I don't look like it, but I’m glad you're here with me. All of this sucks less when you're around.”

The chocolate melting on Kyubin's tongue wasn’t as sweet as those words. “Really?”

Yoojung gave him a small nod. “Really. You’re making it easier to remember how I look at everything when I’m not… all of this. I know I’ll believe you eventually. That’s as much as I can do right now.”

“That’s enough,” Kyubin told him. “That’s already a lot.”

He stopped near Ultimate Bliss to drop Yoojung off eight minutes before his shift was about to begin.

Yoojung undid his belt, but instead of leaving the car, he started folding up the jacket slowly and neatly. “I wish we could do nothing but this for the rest of the week,” he said. “Drive around in your car, listen to music, see new places. Pretend our normal lives don’t exist.”

Kyubin smiled as he observed Yoojung’s fingers smoothing out a wrinkle on the material. “We'll definitely go on another trip when we both have time. And even if we don’t have time, we'll run away for a day or two.”

“We should pick a time when it’ll actually be fun for us both.” He handed Kyubin the jacket, and seeing as he could have put it anywhere in the car, it felt meaningful that he chose to put it in Kyubin’s hands.

Kyubin took it, gladly accepting the opportunity to brush his hand against his. “Would you like me to visit you after work today?”

“You’re not sick of listening to me grumble yet?”

“I think the more important question is, if you feel the need to grumble later, don't you want someone to listen?”

“No. Not someone. Just you.”

Kyubin held his gaze, and for a second, it felt like Yoojung wouldn't mind if he were to lean forward and kiss him goodbye. Before he could act on it though, Yoojung turned away and got out of the car with a quick “Bye.”

During his drive to work, Kyubin had to talk himself out of taking a sudden turn to extend his holiday until the next morning. Although he sent in a notice that he would be late, he still missed a pretty important meeting, and something like that wouldn't escape scrutiny. He hadn’t missed work since the day of his grandfather’s funeral.

But he was too old to get a jittery stomach over something so inconsequential. He made the decision to prioritize Yoojung over work, and that was something a person living for himself would do. Regardless of the consequences, he was a step closer to his goal.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the building that he remembered there was another reason to be nervous - there was someone around here who was carrying his secret. Even if it hadn’t spread in the form of a rumor yet, it was still a vital piece of information that could be used against him at the worst possible moment. It was hard not to sit on pins and needles when every presence nearby ignited that fear all over again.

If a higher power existed, it must have decided the past two weeks were distressing enough for him, because the rest of the day was wholly uneventful. Nobody acted suspiciously, no probing questions came his way, and even his boss seemed to be absent.

He was heading to the parking lot, wondering if Yoojung would find him a bit overenthusiastic if he were to come in with another gift, when an excited voice called from behind.

“Hey! Are you free this evening?”

He turned to find Yongsoo walking over with a wide smile. Great timing, he thought. If any of his colleagues came out with an offer to hang out a few days earlier, he might have actually agreed.

“Thank you, but not tonight. I've got some business to take care of.”

“Oh, come on! Wookjin and Jisung are already waiting in a bar, why don’t you come along? And before you say no, I'm supposed to remind you that relaxing after work is important, and you should prioritize your health more, yadda yadda.”

“You can tell Wookjin I’m grateful for his concern, but this isn’t related to work.” He wasn't sure what possessed him to add, “I'm actually meeting up with someone.”

“Mhm, I see,” Yongsoo drawled with a knowing smirk, a testament to how recently he graduated adolescence. “Meeting up, you say.”

“Yes, Yongsoo, adults do that sometimes,” Kyubin deadpanned. “Is this your first time hearing of it?”

“No, but it's my first time hearing of you meeting up with someone.” His eyes lit up. “Is there going to be a wedding? Can I get an invite!?”

“No, you can’t.” He realized his tone was too harsh when a hurt look flicked across Yongsoo's face, and he rushed to explain, “There isn't going to be a wedding. If there was, of course you’d be invited. You’d be one of the first people invited.”

“Oh, I see!” Yongsoo brightened up right away. “I’ve never been to a wedding, so I hope you’ll have one. It would be so cool.”

Kyubin tried to sound unbothered when he said, “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”

Yongsoo’s expression turned more serious all of a sudden. He hesitated before speaking, which was an unusual sight. “I’m wishing you well. All three of us are. I just wanted to say that.”

Kyubin narrowed his eyes. “You, I understand, but why would Wookjin and Jisung have any opinion about this?”

“What? No, I didn’t tell them anything! I mean- Ugh, please, don’t be mad. I only told them that you’re having some relationship trouble, but they won't tell anyone, they’re so good at keeping secrets, better than anyone I’ve ever met, so they won’t-”

“You're the one who was in the bathroom yesterday,” Kyubin interrupted his rambling, not even trying to hide how relieved that made him.

“I'm so, so sorry that I didn’t leave. I didn’t want to interrupt because it sounded like a serious conversation, but I was covering my ears the whole time so I heard only a little bit, I swear!”

“How much?”

Yongsoo waved his hands defensively. “Almost nothing! Just the beginning when you asked her if she's mad at you, and then a few words out of context.”

Kyubin couldn't hold back an amused snort. “Alright, I guess you really didn't hear a lot.” He shook his head in answer to Yongsoo’s confused look. “Don't worry about it. I should have taken the call elsewhere in the first place. I'd also appreciate it if you didn't gossip about me behind my back, but I suppose I can't stop you.”

He expected Yongsoo to apologize again, but all he got was a smile that appeared oddly fond. “It’s hard not to gossip with those two. I tried not to do that at first, but a few drinks in, it's impossible. We just talk and talk, and the rest of the world disappears.”

As much as Kyubin tried to curb his curiosity about what exactly was going on in that trio, it was becoming impossible. So far, he had too many mismatched pieces. Was the excitement with which Yongsoo reacted to even a small mention of Wookjin purely friendly? That seemed equally as likely as Wookjin and Jisung not being an item, which was to say, not likely at all. Perhaps Yongsoo was just the least jealous person the world had ever seen.

“You’ve been spending time with them a lot recently,” Kyubin remarked, trying not to sound too invested. “When you go out without other colleagues or friends, is it always the three of you?”

Yongsoo nodded. “They always save one day a week to go out alone. It’s so cool that they're letting me come along now. Speaking of which, I gotta run. Have fun on your date!”

“Thanks. You too.”

Instead of getting flustered and vehemently denying it, Yongsoo laughed. “You did that thing where the waiter says Have a nice meal and someone replies You too.”

Kyubin also laughed, still not any less confused than before. “Yes, that's exactly what I did.”

Nothing about the café was visibly different. The scent of spices hung in the air, the lights gave a pleasant glow, even the music playing underneath the chatter sounded familiar, but right from the threshold, Kyubin sensed the place wasn't the same.

All it took was one look at the lifeless expression behind Yoojung's eyes as he got through the pleasantries of customer interaction, and he realized exactly why nothing seemed as it did before. Sadness hung heavy in the air, permeating every corner of the place Yoojung wished to leave behind, and nobody but Kyubin could see it.

He wished he wasn’t approaching the counter with empty hands, but if Yoojung was to be believed, his presence was enough. He wasn’t sure he did believe that, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying his hardest to prove Yoojung wasn’t wrong to think that.

“I’m guessing this hasn’t been the most pleasant evening,” he said with a sympathetic smile and accepted the cup placed in front of him.

“No, I'm having so much fun,” Yoojung said with a subtle eye roll.

“Anything you want to get off your chest?”

“Yeah,” he sighed heavily. “There were these three guys today who- no, you know what, I’m not even gonna start. You talk. Tell me something fun.”

Kyubin grinned as he took a sip of hot chocolate. “I don’t think I mentioned Yongsoo to you before. He’s sort of been my mentee for a while. He overheard us talking on the phone, and now he’s looking forward to being invited to our wedding. I’m not sure if that’s more funny or weird, though.”

Yoojung tilted his head. “Why weird? Because he assumed you’re dating a woman?”

There was a trace of something familiar in how he was looking at Kyubin; an interest unsatisfied even in the face of pointlessness. The warmth spreading in Kyubin’s chest rivaled the temperature of the cup between his palms.

“I get why he would make that assumption, and I’m kind of relieved he did. I don’t know. It’s weird that he of all people thinks I’m straight. I’ve suspected he’s had a thing for Wookjin for a while. I did mention Wookjin before, right?”

“The nepo baby?”

Kyubin snorted into his cup. “I won't badmouth him since he’s a hard worker, but yes, that's the one. The thing is, I think Wookjin might be involved with another colleague of ours, Jisung. I'm not entirely sure what the dynamic between those three is, but they’ve all gotten close recently.”

“And you’re feeling left out,” Yoojung finished for him.

Kyubin wasn’t sure if he should nod or shake his head, so he did a vague combination of both. “They’ve been making efforts to include me for some time now, so I have no reason to feel left out. I guess it’s just… If Yongsoo thinks I’m straight, then all of them probably do. And if I’m right, and there really is at least one non-straight person working alongside me, I wouldn’t mind them knowing that I’m here, too.”

Yoojung’s gaze on him felt soft. “It’s a risk, but it might be worth it. And if it goes wrong, quitting is always an option.”

For such an innocuous sentence, it felt quite radical to imagine himself quitting Adding Gold after all these years. But Yoojung was right to be so nonchalant about this idea. Nothing tied him down to the company other than the comfort of sticking to what’s familiar. The city offered plenty of accounting positions, and his resume was solid.

Oddly enough, considering such a huge step didn’t feel daunting. There was something exciting about the sense of power he was gaining over his life. He just hoped it would hold for long enough that he could come to a real decision about this.

“You’re right,” he told Yoojung with a smile. “It is always an option.”

“Look here, boy,” a sharp voice cut through their conversation, and Kyubin saw all that was carefree evaporate from Yoojung in an instant.

He took a deep breath before turning to the customer. “How can I help, sir?”

The man, who appeared to be in his fifties, pointed with a fork to a plate he was holding. “What is this supposed to mean, hm?”

Yoojung’s tired gaze focused on the cake. “I can offer another piece, no additional pay.”

“Save it, I’ve lost my appetite. For the good of everyone who eats here, wear a hairnet if you're so set on being modern.”

“Would you like a refund?” Yoojung offered, forcing politeness into his drained tone.

“Oh, I see. You think everything is about money, don't you? Honestly, this generation. You can't talk sense into anybody, they all think they know better. Let me ask you this, have you done your duty of serving in the military?”

“Not yet.”

“No, of course not, and it shows. Enlist tomorrow for your own good, make your country proud. This-” he gestured to Yoojung's whole person- “is a gimmick you better grow out of fast if you want to-”

“Excuse me, sir,” Kyubin said in his utmost polite tone. “If your only objective here is harassing the staff, I'm going to ask you to leave.”

“Who's harassing who? The service I'm paying for isn't good enough. I'm giving this young man advice on how to conduct himself better.”

“And I'm sure he's very grateful for your advice, but as you can see, we'll be closing soon.”

“We?” The man’s gaze zeroed in on Kyubin’s long hair suspiciously. “What have you got to say around here?”

Kyubin straightened his back and puffed out his chest a bit more. “I'm the owner. I apologize for my staff’s behavior, and I will make sure an incident like this never happens again. Have a good night, sir.”

The man muttered to himself as he put the cake down on the counter, but didn’t try to put up a fight.

After the door closed behind him, Yoojung closed his eyes and deflated with a shallow sigh. “Please, don't do that again. But thank you.”

Kyubin glanced at the clock. “There’s only three minutes till closing time. What would you like to do then?”

Yoojung shrugged. “Sleep for a week?”

“How about we start at one night of solid sleep? Actually, wait, I said we. You can sleep alone if you want, it's not like I can't-”

“I want to sleep somewhere else tonight. Preferably in a bed that's big and comfortable.” He gave Kyubin a pointed look. “Know any bed like that?”

The offer to take him back to his place was on the tip of Kyubin’s tongue, but what came out was, “How about a hotel room?”

Yoojung glared at him, and it took Kyubin a moment to realize why.

“Just to sleep,” he quickly clarified. “I know how that sounded, but I have no ulterior motive. I’d pay for it since it's my idea, but we can just relax, watch TV, that type of stuff.”

“I haven't paid you back for groceries or gas yet,” Yoojung pointed out.

“You really don’t have to,” Kyubin argued half-heartedly. “But if you want to, there’s no rush. The next time we go out, you can pick what we do and pay, and then we’ll be even.”

“So many extra steps. Got no free bed to offer me?”

“I… I do have one. And it is big, and comfortable. But it's also not that great. My apartment, I mean.” He knew he was acting weird, and that saying yes to this should have felt like a no-brainer, but he wasn't prepared for Yoojung to suggest this now. The timing was all off.

Yoojung's first night in his bed couldn't culminate with him waking up to white walls and empty spaces, feeling like he’d been dragged to the most depressing bedroom in the world. It was supposed to follow a carefree evening filled with thrills, laughter and struggling to keep their hands off each other, so that when he woke up the next morning, he’d be certain that he wanted to wake up in Kyubin’s bed again, and again, and again.

“I'm not gonna judge how your apartment looks,” Yoojung said, his expression not betraying how much of that was true. “You've seen how I live.”

Kyubin stopped himself before he could confess that this was precisely the problem. No matter how limited Yoojung's budget was, he was dedicated to making his place feel like a home. Purchasing 1400 square feet of floor space only to neglect most of it was downright embarrassing in comparison to that.

“It just seems a bit dreary on some nights,” he said. “That's all. You should spend tonight somewhere with a splash of color.”

Yoojung’s apprehension was plain to see, but he nodded. “Hotel it is, then.”

While he was closing up, Kyubin pulled up the search results for hotels in the area and rounded them down to the three best. He showed him the options when Yoojung came over to the counter to wipe it down. “Here, take your pick. This one is a little more expensive, but it has a jacuzzi.”

Yoojung barely threw a glance at the screen. “It’s your money, you pick.”

Kyubin put his phone down, observing Yoojung’s face carefully. He looked like he was clenching his jaw tightly, and his knuckles were turning white. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because if you hate the idea, I'll stop making a fuss and take you back to mine.”

“I don't hate the idea,” Yoojung said, the controlled irritation underlying his words unmistakable. “The only idea I hate is sleeping in my own bed. If you think this is the better option, you must have your reasons.”

Looking at how viciously he was scrubbing the counter made Kyubin want to take his hands and treat them gentler than they've ever been before. “I do want to invite you over eventually. I hope you’re not doubting that.”

“Not loving the word eventually,” Yoojung said through clenched teeth.

“Soon. Very soon. I just- Can you look at me?” He waited until Yoojung finished taking out his emotions on a coffee stain and threw the rag down. “I know it’s selfish, but… I want your first night at my place to leave a good impression. I want you to enjoy being there. And I don’t, a lot of the time. Especially recently. At the very least, I should clean up a bit before I show you how I’ve been living for the past few years.”

The anger slowly evaporated from Yoojung. “So we’re both just trying to run away from our own beds?”

“Yeah. That’s all there is to it.”

Yoojung nodded and took off his apron. “Just don’t pick the fanciest one.”

Kyubin picked the second fanciest.

The room turned out to not be the vast, modern kind that he had envisioned after seeing the pictures, nor was the view from the windows something to behold, but it was still a better alternative to his apartment. The walls were light blue instead of dull white, the carpet was so lush that it demanded to be stepped on with bare feet, and the whole room gave an impression of being cared for.

Yoojung headed for the bathroom right after taking his shoes off while Kyubin busied himself with skipping through the channels in search of a movie to pass the time. After a few minutes of failing to find anything worth paying attention to, he decided to check out what the mini bar offered, just in case it had any non-alcoholic options.

He was looking for information about the alcohol content on a bottle of apple cider when he heard the bathroom door open.

“I started the bath,” Yoojung announced. “It's big enough for two people.”

Kyubin turned around to respond, but all words escaped him when he caught Yoojung’s eyes staring at him. He was standing in the open door, shirtless, slowly taking off his pants. Nothing about the way he moved was particularly enticing, but his gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on Kyubin, so it felt like a command to pay attention.

He allowed his gaze to follow Yoojung’s hands, trying to walk the line between polite interest and outright gawking. He wasn't sure what exactly this was, or was about to become, but he knew better than to ask and disrupt the delicate balance hanging in the silence. If nothing else, it felt like a sign of trust. Or, perhaps more accurately, it felt like a test of how deep Yoojung could allow his trust to run without getting hurt again.

Kyubin waited patiently until Yoojung finished taking off his clothes, and then allowed his feet to guide him closer.

“You're gonna keep all your clothes on?” Yoojung asked as he threw his briefs to the side. He sounded like the answer didn’t matter to him, but Kyubin sensed there was a question behind it all. Now that you've seen me, all of me, will you look away?

“No,” he replied simply, feeling a tremor of nervous excitement as he began taking off his clothes.

The nervousness wasn’t about not having any shadows cover his body. No, standing bare underneath bright lights was the exciting part. It was the perspective of putting all of himself on display and leaving nothing concealed from that all-noticing stare that put a little hesitation in his movements. He could pick his words as carefully as he could, but he couldn't hide what his body felt.

When he finally stood naked, Yoojung regarded him in a way that didn't hold much interest. He turned back into the bathroom without another word, and Kyubin took a deep, slow breath before stepping onto the cold tiles after him.

The bathtub was already filled up, with bubbles floating on the surface and the smell of lavender in the air.

Kyubin watched Yoojung lower himself into the water until it reached up to his chest, then take one of the two sponges placed by the tub. Instead of handing it to Kyubin, he started unhurriedly washing his arms.

Taking those last few steps to join him seemed like an enormous venture all of a sudden. If Yoojung entrusted him with the task of washing him again, Kyubin would have understood what the boundaries of the situation were. As it were, all he could do was struggle against the urge to eroticize the sight of Yoojung touching himself all over, and try his very best not to envision the details of what his hands got up to when they slid under the surface.

Yoojung seemed entirely oblivious to the quiet turmoil he was causing, because all he said was, “Come in before the water gets cold.”

Kyubin bit the inside of his cheek, balled his hands into fists, dug his nails into his skin, and headed to take his place on the other end of the tub.

As soon as warm water engulfed his body, a large part of the tension in his muscles washed away. He rested his arms on the porcelain rim and sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. Neglecting life's simple pleasures was worth it for moments like this. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so relaxed, and now, relaxation was all he could feel.

He didn't notice that he’d straightened his legs until he felt Yoojung's foot rest against his inner thigh. He lifted his eyelids a little, just enough to see what Yoojung was doing, and by then, he was all out of willpower to police his thoughts. Every small movement Yoojung made sent ripples across the surface to tease his skin, and each one was a reminder of how this routine type of nakedness changed its meaning entirely with another person present. Wherever Yoojung's hands wandered, Kyubin’s attention followed, lingering where they lingered, transfixed by the sheen of water on his skin.

His attempts to pretend he was entirely nonchalant about this were always doomed to fail, anyway.

To retain a bit of self-control, he grabbed the other sponge and busied his hands before they could do something heedless, but even then, he drank in the sight and absentmindedly copied each of Yoojung’s actions.

“Miss washing me already?” Yoojung asked. Despite no emotion in his tone, there was something faintly playful in the glance he threw Kyubin’s way.

Kyubin swallowed and didn’t answer, not feeling up to forming any coherent sentence.

It still made him dizzy to know how much desire for this one man his body was able to contain. Too much time went by with other feelings clouding this very basic, carnal hunger, and now, it was hitting him all at once. All because he received the tiniest crumb of proof that Yoojung might be deriving some enjoyment from teasing him like this, putting all of himself just slightly out of reach and reminding Kyubin of everything he could still have if he tried hard enough.

He didn’t register that his body was moving until his thumb touched Yoojung’s lips and his fingers curled around his jaw where it angled upward. He both felt and saw Yoojung's mouth part slightly, and the warm exhale against his skin forced his focus up, to Yoojung’s calm, unshaken eyes.

Their breaths and a drop of water falling from the faucet were the only sounds filling the silence. Then, Yoojung pressed into his touch just a little more, and Kyubin lurched forward to cover his mouth with his.

A short brush of lips was all it took to bring all of his hunger to the surface, and every subsequent touch was purely self-indulgent. He nuzzled the side of Yoojung’s nose, pushed his fingers into his hair and chased the roughness of clumsily shaved facial hair grazing his skin, reveling in the gentle thrill each of these things brought forth.

Yoojung's hands remained steady on his shoulders, but that was fine. He was there, holding onto him, and Kyubin didn’t need him to put any more effort in. Once he was done feasting his senses on all the things he’d missed and ached for, his touch became more generous. His hands wandered lower, enticed by how smoothly they could glide across Yoojung’s body, and every inch of skin they covered, they did so with the intention to make Yoojung feel just how profoundly wanted he was.

When he reached his waist, he couldn't contain the desire to move down to his thighs, but that's where he stopped. Underneath the buzz filling his head and nullifying all thoughts, he could feel that Yoojung was simply following along, not nearly as breathless as Kyubin was. His mouth pliantly welcomed every kiss in a way that couldn't be called passionate, but there were enough signs pointing to a genuine wish for this to be happening that Kyubin didn’t overthink the few things that felt one-sided. All he did was squeeze Yoojung’s thighs and wait for a signal that he could do something beyond this.

Yoojung's hand wrapped around his cock so suddenly that his body tensed, causing his teeth to harshly bite down on his own lip. He felt Yoojung's other hand grab the back of his neck, keeping him in place and encouraging him to initiate another kiss. He ignored the stinging pain and complied with his wish, finally allowing his hand to slide between Yoojung's legs.

The first thing he noticed was how soft Yoojung was in his hold, such a stark contrast to how affected Kyubin felt by even the gentlest touch. He didn't have time to consider what it meant before Yoojung’s hand set into motion, and he temporarily lost all ability to think.

He rested his forehead on Yoojung's shoulder and breathed, conscious of not being too loud so he wouldn't be forced to hear his own voice echo against the tiles. So many intoxicating scents intermingled in the air around them, filling his lungs and wrapping around every part of him that wanted Yoojung deeper and deeper, whether he was close or far away.

It was way too easy to disregard everything that wasn't Yoojung's touch and the warmth surrounding them. He almost entirely forgot that he was still holding Yoojung's cock and not doing anything to help him enjoy this more.

Immediately upon realizing his mistake, he tried to make up for it by settling into an energetic tempo and kissing down his neck with all the fervor required of an apology.

It was disorienting to notice no reaction from Yoojung at all. No hitch in his breath, no hum of enjoyment, no eager grind of his hips to receive more of the sensations Kyubin was creating. It didn't feel like he disliked how he was being touched; he just didn't seem to care at all.

The only alternative to repeating his mistake was to try harder, so he did. His mouth moved down to Yoojung’s neck again, trying to remember what he did last time that got the sweetest sound out of him, and his other hand joined the first one in figuring out different ways to summon heat where it was most needed, all while making every stroke as pleasurable as he knew how.

Yoojung’s hand finally moved from its spot on the back of Kyubin's neck and traveled down to his chest, only to then grab Kyubin’s hand and move it out from between his legs.

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “Leave it.”

The meaning of those words didn’t get through to Kyubin at first since Yoojung’s hand persisted in its effort to get him off, but then they cut through the distracting pleasure and resonated clearly.

“You're not turned on,” he whispered cautiously, not sure if it was a question or a statement.

“I can ignore it if you can.”

Kyubin settled his unoccupied hands on Yoojung's back tentatively, his lips close to touching his shoulder, but not coming into contact just yet.

He wanted to ask Yoojung why he would even suggest something like this, but he was acutely aware of any word or gesture that could be interpreted as rejection. Yoojung was making this happen, so he had a reason. Kyubin wasn't going to ruin everything by questioning his motives.

Except now that he knew Yoojung wasn't into this as much as he was, his body's unsatiated craving wasn't enough to cloud how much all of this felt like an uneven transaction. As thrilling as it was to have the hand he'd missed in the most intimate of places, he was ashamed not to have noticed earlier how little desire to be touching him in this way Yoojung exhibited. The pace and rhythm with which he moved his hand didn't change since the very first stroke; each one was slow, monotonous, predictable, like he was propelled by obligation more than anything else.

Before the ever-growing unease could propel Kyubin to say something he'd inevitably regret, Yoojung wrapped his free arm around his shoulders and drew him closer, his face pressing into the crook of Kyubin's neck, more insistent and desperate than anything he’d done so far.

Kyubin stayed perfectly still, his breaths slowing down and syncing with Yoojung's. He hoped that by not focusing on the unchanging motion of Yoojung's hand so much, he could find more hints that his suspicions were wrong, but the arm around his shoulders remained the only proof. It held onto him tightly, and the only certainty Kyubin could derive from it was that some part of Yoojung wanted some part of this.

That should have been enough to convince him to let go of all worries and lose himself in the pleasure Yoojung was offering so selflessly, but he couldn’t make his body act like it did before. The impulse pushing his hands to touch whatever they wanted disappeared with the knowledge that Yoojung wasn’t getting anything out of it. There was nothing arousing about feeling up a person who didn’t gasp and quiver under his attention.

It felt awkward to keep his hands idle and still on Yoojung’s back, so he gripped the sides of the bathtub instead. His body was still aching for release, but it was getting gradually harder to focus on that end goal. It was as if he couldn't entirely access the present moment anymore, and the more he tried, the harder it was to concentrate on the sensations his body was receiving. He needed something to latch onto that would distract him from deliberating if Yoojung liked how his cock fit in his hand, if Yoojung found the smell of his neck pleasant, if he wished Kyubin would whisper some encouragements instead of filling up the quiet in the bathroom with nothing but his heavy breathing.

Yoojung’s hand stopped moving, and only then did Kyubin realize he was limp in his hold.

“Shit,” he said under his breath, feeling mortified. “I'm sorry, this is not- You were doing really well, I just-”

“It happens,” Yoojung said, already pulling away before Kyubin could react. He didn't seem annoyed, but he didn't seem relieved, either. He just took a sponge as if nothing happened between them in the last few minutes, and stretched his arm behind himself to scrub his back.

Up until that point, Kyubin had been holding onto hope that Yoojung secretly found his restraint impressive, chivalrous, even; that he was used to men who expected more of him than he wanted to give, and he needed Kyubin to prove he wasn't one of them.

This hope seemed like nothing more than wishful thinking at that point.

Before he could find the right words to apologize and fix everything with, Yoojung stood up and got out of the bathtub.

“Wait,” Kyubin scrambled after him. “Please, let’s not- This isn’t because of you, it’s just-”

“Relax,” Yoojung said calmly while grabbing a towel. “I’m not mad.”

“But you’re disappointed. Rightfully so.”

Yoojung made a move like he was trying to shrug, but wasn't committed enough. “Got no reason to be. How your body reacts is out of your control.”

“I’m disappointed, too,” Kyubin told him, shivering from the difference in temperature. “In myself, not in you. I missed this, and… I really was enjoying it.”

Yoojung gave him a short glance before handing him a second towel. “What made you stop?”

“I could feel you weren’t enjoying it as much as I was,” Kyubin said, wrapping the towel around himself. “Which is fine, by the way, I know depressive episodes can have this side effect. I just don’t understand why you’d force yourself to do this.”

“So it felt forced?”

“No,” he denied immediately, sensing tension in Yoojung’s voice. “No, it felt really good. It just- It also felt like you were asking me to take advantage of you, a little bit.”

Yoojung frowned. “That makes no sense. You can't ask someone to take advantage.”

Kyubin spread his arms helplessly. “I really don’t know how else to explain this. Is it wrong that wanting you feels inappropriate when I can't even tell if you have any interest in actually having sex?”

Yoojung’s eyes fixed on him, and the few seconds of silence that followed felt heavy. “Is that how it felt the other day, too?”

“It did,” Kyubin admitted, ignoring the part of himself that only wished to answer in ways that kept Yoojung comfortable. “I'm guessing it didn't feel that way to you.”

“No, it didn't.”

“Can you tell me what was going through your head then?” Kyubin finally asked the words that had been festering inside him since that day. “If I know, I think I'll understand you a lot better. So… please?”

Yoojung slowed down in his efforts to dry himself. “Don't know. Not much. I was kind of all over the place, in case you didn't notice.”

“I see. Listen, we don't have to talk about this right now. I just want you to know that I really regret not trying harder to understand what you needed that night. I know it’s too late now, but I never want to make you feel like that again. When you feel like talking about it, I’d like to understand.”

The towel dropped to the floor, and Yoojung continued standing there, facing him with his arms down his body. He looked so vulnerable like this, especially when he quietly said, “It felt like you didn't care at all. Like it was too difficult to touch me all of a sudden.”

“It wasn't difficult,” Kyubin said firmly. “It was just a bit more complicated. You were in distress, and I didn't want to make things worse.”

“You were in distress the night before,” Yoojung whispered. “Didn't phase me. I did my best for you.”

“Well, yes, but- that's not the same.” Even as he said it, he felt a creeping wave of something paralyzing. What was he even saying? How was it not the same?

Yoojung huffed out an unamused laugh. “Sure.” He walked past Kyubin and paused by the door, his back turned away. “I told you how that night made me feel. You made the rest of the world disappear for a moment. I don't know how you did it, but I needed you to do it again, cause I had no idea how to get there on my own.”

He exited the bathroom, leaving Kyubin with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He'd never felt so much shame crash on him in a single moment, and the weight of it overpowered his impulse to run after Yoojung with a litany of apologies. All he could do was clutch the towel helplessly in his hands, transferring all confusing emotions onto the guiltless piece of cotton.

After everything Yoojung did for him that night, he didn’t even consider that those passive hands and lips might have been telling him it was his turn to show he cared enough to want something imperfect. That Yoojung quietly yearned for him to take control, and to guide them both with the same care and patience that had been offered to him the previous night. A simple return of a favor, and he failed at it.

It wasn't surprising that he failed. That was just what he did. He failed during their first night together, and he obliterated whatever might have become of the second. Even if he was given a chance to redo that day, he still would have failed; that much was plain to see. He couldn't even find enough calm within himself to kiss Yoojung back properly. The chances that he would’ve put a stop to the relentless blabbering of his inner worries and given Yoojung something good enough to compensate for the day he had were unbelievably low.

All of this filled him with a sense of such deep-seated inferiority that he had to shake himself out of it quickly before it overwhelmed him.

It wasn't like he didn't know how to be selfless when it came to sex. It was instinct to tune into another person's needs and mold himself into whatever they needed the most for the night. It just grew more difficult the more he cared. He became too cautious, too stiff, trapping himself in his own head and burdening Yoojung with having to be the calm one out of the two of them.

That didn't mean he was just going to accept he was destined for ineptitude. He wanted to break those invisible confines placed on himself and possess ownership over his body the way Yoojung had, the way everyone else seemed to. Even if it took him a hundred tries or however long Yoojung would have him, he was going to learn how to blow his mind unlike anyone before.

A brief second of panic seized him after he left the bathroom and saw that the room was empty, but then he noticed an open door leading to a balcony. He could see Yoojung standing there, a fleece robe hugging his body.

He grabbed the other robe from the closet and covered himself with it before joining Yoojung outside.

“I want to try again,” he proclaimed, calculating how many soju shots he should take to relax without decreasing the quality of his performance. “Forget what happened in the bathroom, that was- I was an idiot. We'll do anything you want right now. Anything at all.”

Yoojung’s back remained turned as he said, “The moment’s over, don't you think?”

“No, we can rebuild it. I can rebuild it. Just tell me how. Please.”

Slowly, Yoojung turned to him, a dark silhouette against the brightly lit up windows across the street. His face was indiscernible, and if Kyubin could, he would have pulled all the shadows right off his body. Darkness had no right to cling so closely to him.

“Just do what you did that night,” he said quietly, barely audible over the siren passing below.

Kyubin took a small step forward, observing every subtle shift in Yoojung's body language. It got more noticeable with the next step, and another; he saw Yoojung standing a bit straighter, his chin raised higher, his hands folding and unfolding behind his back, unsure of what position to take. Even in the dark, there was something unmistakably expectant about how his eyes followed Kyubin's every move, as if assessing whether their ideas of what should happen next were aligned.

Kyubin retraced the night in question in his head, trying to pinpoint what exactly it was that Yoojung remembered so fondly. A few moments came to mind right away, but there wasn't a specific action that connected them all. The only throughline was the tenderness guiding his hands to embrace rather than seize, caress rather than obtain.

Could it really be that simple after all?

His fingers brushed Yoojung's hair away from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear, tracing the edge of the shell. “I hope I'm getting this right,” he whispered, trying to decipher if the glimpse of longing in Yoojung's eyes was more than a trick of light.

Yoojung's hands remained folded behind his back, but he crossed the remaining space between them, leaving only soft fleece separating their bodies. Kyubin could discern his eyes well enough now to see that he appeared as wary as he did hopeful.

He leaned forward to settle his chin on Kyubin's shoulder, and Kyubin's arms closed around him at once, relief rushing through his body so suddenly that it almost made him lightheaded. His fingers laced through damp hair as he cradled the back of Yoojung's head, bringing him even closer by strengthening his embrace, and he could swear that his heart began to beat with doubled intensity when Yoojung's arms finally came up to wrap around him.

The exhale he let out felt like more than just air left his body, but also all the entangled emotions of the past two weeks. At last, everything felt simple and balanced. Yoojung was his, he was Yoojung's, and nothing beyond the places where their bodies met mattered.

His ear was so close to Yoojung’s face that he could hear each one of his breaths, and every slight variation between each one. Some were deeper, some shakier, some taken suddenly as if in surprise. Kyubin didn't need to hear him say that somewhere within this embrace, he found the missing piece he'd been looking for. That enthralling unity which made the world disappear was still there, waiting to be rediscovered.

They stayed like this for a blissful minute with the cool air of a late summer night surrounding them as they surrounded each other.

After a while, the tiles under Kyubin's bare feet were starting to feel a little too cold for comfort.

When he shifted slightly in place to get the circulation going, Yoojung's hold tightened. “Not yet.”

Kyubin smiled into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. It's just a little cold out here. How about we take this to bed?”

Yoojung didn't respond right away, and his hands clutched the back of Kyubin's robe more firmly. “And what do you imagine us doing there?”

“On a scale from nothing to everything? Whatever you want.”

“I want us to take these stupid robes off. And then-” He sighed. “No, forget it.” He stepped out of Kyubin's hold until he was backed against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest, leaving Kyubin's front exposed to a chill wind.

“Go with what you feel like doing,” Kyubin told him, wrapping the robe more tightly around himself. “I'll meet you in the middle regardless of what it is.”

Yoojung shook his head. “Whatever I choose, it's not gonna change anything.”

Kyubin took the risk of stepping closer to him. When he didn't sense any resistance, he touched Yoojung's forearm, and he waited until Yoojung uncrossed his arms to hold his hands. “When you say anything, what do you mean? What do you want to change right now?”

Yoojung’s gaze followed Kyubin’s thumb as it brushed his skin. “I really hate how the timing worked out for us,” he said quietly. “We didn't even get a week to enjoy each other before all of this shit went down. We should've been going on dates every day, making out, laughing, fucking, pretending life is easy as long as we ignore everything that isn't us. You deserve something like that. Something normal.”

“We’ll get to have all of that,” Kyubin assured him, no doubt in him that he was speaking the truth. “It got a bit delayed, but we're on the right track now. Besides, whatever normal is, it was never us. It's not something we ever have to be.”

Yoojung pulled his hands out of his hold and turned toward the street. “You can tell me if you're not excited to be with me anymore,” he said in the same tone he’d been saying a lot of things lately; like none of it mattered. “Better let me know now instead of regretting it later when everything gets too complicated.”

“No.” Kyubin grabbed the sleeve of his robe. “Yoojung, listen. I'm being incredibly serious when I tell you that I've never been more excited for anything. All those things you just described, I want them too, but that doesn’t mean days like today aren’t worth it. I'm grateful that you're letting me get to know you better, and I'm looking forward to whatever’s ahead. Time with you is all I really want.”

Yoojung didn’t look his way, but his hand found the belt of Kyubin’s robe. “You mean it?”

“I mean it. Face it, it's impossible for me to stop caring about you now.” And that, that felt like a real confession. Spontaneous, heavy on his tongue, accelerating his pulse, dense with meanings and promises that something as common as I like you didn't carry.

Slowly, Yoojung faced him again. Even in this light, Kyubin could see how exhausted he was by the day he had, which made it all the more precious when he returned Kyubin’s gesture by tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “We’d be making a mess of that bed right now if I could make myself want it,” he said softly. “But you were right. I was forcing it.”

“Did you feel like you had to do it for me? Because I paid for the room or because I helped you with some things?”

Yoojung seemed to consider the question seriously. “Mostly for you, yeah. But not in the way you think. I just want things to feel normal again. I hate that I got myself a guy this hot, and nice, and sweet, only for your dick to seem like the least interesting thing about you.”

“It really isn’t that remarkable,” Kyubin joked lightly. “I don’t mind waiting for when you do find it more interesting. I'm used to sex being infrequent in my life, anyway. Knowing that you'll want it again is enough.”

Yoojung put his arms around Kyubin's waist, and there was something shyly keen about him when he said, “Thing is, I liked how it felt back there. In the bath. It didn't turn me on, but it was nice. And as long as you were hard, I had an excuse to keep it going.”

Kyubin nodded slowly, putting together all the hints as to why Yoojung was driven to do things that seemed counterintuitive. The picture of what's been going on inside his head was so much clearer now. Perhaps the only reason he insisted on causing heat to circle throughout Kyubin's body was to get a shred of warmth for himself.

“You want us to keep touching, but without crossing the line into sex,” Kyubin summed up. “Have I got that correctly?”

Yoojung’s head slumped down to rest on Kyubin’s shoulder as suddenly as if his neck gave out, and his sigh penetrated the thick robe. “It sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Kyubin said, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Yoojung’s head just in case he had any ideas about moving away anytime soon. “People hug when they’re naked all the time, right?”

“Yeah, after they’re done fucking each other,” Yoojung mumbled into the material. “They don't get naked to have a cuddle. And if they did, they'd end up fucking anyway. That’s just how it goes.”

Although it sounded true, there was a part of Kyubin that questioned whether this rule had to apply to them. Holding Yoojung with no barriers between their bodies was bound to provoke his senses a lot more when he still had so much tension pent up inside him, but that wasn't why his chest ached at the thought of laying down together like this, naked and intertwined.

“Maybe my lack of experience with anything that's not casual sex is showing right now,” he started slowly, “but I believe there is space between us for something that blurs the line. We can touch without sex being involved. Whether we’re both naked or not.”

The lapels of Kyubin's robe parted a little, and Yoojung's nose pressed against his skin. Even an action as simple as that was enough to send a shiver of joy through Kyubin’s body, which made it all the more frustrating to hear Yoojung say, “It's not gonna work. Not tonight. You'll just get horny again, and I won't care enough to get you off properly.”

“I'd never do anything you're not comfortable with. You know that, right?”

Yoojung scoffed softly. “I’d be the one making you uncomfortable. I'm not gonna put you through this just because I-” He sucked in a sharp breath, and didn't continue.

“Just because you what?” Kyubin whispered.

“Nothing. Don’t make me say it.”

“I kind of want to.”

Yoojung sighed, staying still and silent with his cheek resting over Kyubin's heart. “I never knew it could feel like this,” he said quietly. “Being close to someone. I feel like I might disappear into you if I just hold you strong enough, and maybe then I’ll feel okay.”

Kyubin allowed the intense wave of affection to wash over him before he placed his hands on Yoojung's shoulders. “That settles it, then.” When Yoojung raised his head to give him a puzzled look, Kyubin gestured toward their room. “We’re going to bed. Without the robes, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“It won't feel as good as you think,” Yoojung said, not budging even when Kyubin gave his hands a gentle tug. “It’s gonna be like torture for you.”

“Put me through torture, then,” Kyubin told him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s okay. I’m ready. I want it.”

Yoojung didn't look convinced any more than he did a minute ago, though he did allow himself to be pulled back inside.

Kyubin didn’t waste any time before taking off his robe and getting into bed. “Come on,” he said, lifting the covers to encourage Yoojung to join him.

Yoojung didn’t step closer toward him, but he began slowly untying the belt of his robe. “You sure you don’t have to get off first?”

“I’m not sure,” Kyubin said truthfully. “But sitting on a closed toilet lid with porn playing on my phone doesn’t sound very appealing right now. I’d rather be here with you.”

Yoojung let the robe fall to the floor. “How about now?”

Kyubin smiled, keeping his eyes locked with Yoojung’s. “Now I’m sure of one thing, and that’s that I want you to come over here and let me cuddle you already.”

“And if it starts to feel like cuddling isn't enough, will you regret agreeing to this?”

“I don't know,” Kyubin answered truthfully. “But I think that's the best part of this. Us. We can explore different things, figure out how they feel and what they mean. The fact that we can even attempt something like this is exciting on its own to me.”

That finally persuaded Yoojung to move from his spot and lie down. He still kept an unnecessary bit of distance between them, and he pulled the covers all the way up to his shoulders, as if hiding his hands from view would somehow stifle their desire to touch and the responses it would elicit.

Kyubin held his hesitant gaze steadily. It felt effortless to stay composed and allow Yoojung to rely on him when the intimacy they were attempting to create was so quiet and serene. None of the pressure that came with the reckless, exhilarating impulsivity of sex was present, so it all felt simple.

His hand found Yoojung's under the covers and pulled it closer to rest over his heart. “Go ahead. I'm all yours.”

Yoojung drew in a slow, deep breath before tracing a feather-like line along Kyubin's collarbones, leaving a delightful trail of shivers. The light sneaking in through the window illuminated his face with a hazy glow that made him appear extra kissable, but Kyubin pushed down that urge and remained still.

Yoojung’s fingers traveled upward, coming to a rest once they reached Kyubin's face and slipped into his hair. There was something lazy about the way his eyes followed his own movement, and he seemed to zone out while drawing small circles on Kyubin's cheek with his thumb, the motion soothing in its mechanical repetition. His blinking also appeared to get slower, more sluggish, like he was finding it harder to fight off the exhaustion.

Although it slightly dampened the thrill Kyubin felt to explore every detail of this thing both of their hearts seemed to call for, he understood. And, like with everything else, they had time.

“Today’s been a long day, hasn't it?” he asked quietly.

Yoojung shifted closer to join him on his pillow, their noses shy of touching. His eyes quickly traveled over Kyubin's face, as if he was trying to take in as much of him before he asked, “Can you turn around?”

Although reluctant to move away when he already had Yoojung so close, Kyubin complied with his wish, and the soft pressure of Yoojung's touch on his cheek was replaced by a pillow.

With nothing interesting to look at anymore, there was no use in keeping his eyes open. After letting his eyelids obscure the dim view of the room, he felt a rising anticipation inside. His senses slowly became more conscious of the presence behind him; the barely audible breaths Yoojung took, the warmth emanating from him, the rustles he created with every tiny shift of his body.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, his pulse sped up a little. Slowly, the touch moved down his arm, meticulous like it was a crime to allow any bit of skin to feel neglected. Then, it slipped under the covers and wandered down his side, briefly pausing at his hip before traveling up again, just as slow as before, never becoming more intense.

Keeping his eyes closed was only causing Kyubin’s nerve endings to pick up on more subtleties of how every soft caress affected his body, so he focused his gaze on the sharp edges of furniture and shadows on the wall. His heart kept hammering in his chest, every touch a reminder of how much he missed feeling it everywhere else, but the languidness with which Yoojung guided his hands kept the more urgent impulses at bay.

He couldn’t be sure what drove Yoojung to explore the shape of him so thoroughly even when he had to fight back fatigue in order to do so, but he had no intention of putting a stop to it. Compared to how lackluster the movement of Yoojung’s hands felt before, there was nothing feigned about the gentle way he traced every bump up and down Kyubin's spine. He wanted this, and Kyubin wanted to let him have it. And maybe he also found it strangely gratifying to let desire course through his body without chasing any kind of finish, making him ache for satisfaction that was days, maybe even weeks away. His entire body was a battleground of delicate longing and suppressed impulses, and he liked it more than he could ever admit.

He felt Yoojung’s fingers come to a halt on the base of his neck and then slide into his hair, caressing his head as tenderly as everything before. For some reason, this only made every conflicting urge Kyubin was already feeling double in its intensity, and with every resounding pulse in his ears, he understood why.

Yoojung didn’t have to do any of this. There was no end goal to his touch, no physical requisite within him demanding that he run his hands over Kyubin’s naked body, and yet, he chose to devote a moment of his time to draw Kyubin's silhouette line by line. For the first time, someone was seeing past the shape that had been sculpted to their liking, past the functions that could be utilized to bring them closer together, and touched him for the simple fact that it was him. Yoojung desired him in a way that was almost entirely motionless, and it comforted Kyubin to his very core.

“How do you feel?” Yoojung whispered.

Kyubin didn’t respond right away, simply breathing through all the emotions simmering in him, all the suppressed lust and innocent joy at being wanted for the simple fact of being. “How honest should I be?” he whispered back.

“Painfully.”

He waited until Yoojung’s hand changed its course to a less sensitive place to say, “It’s… it’s a lot. I like it though. It's a little frustrating, but I like it. I’m really glad I talked you into this.”

“So I can move closer?”

“You never have to ask me that again. Yes.”

A quiet shuffle behind him, a creak of the bed, and then, warmth nestled all around him as Yoojung encircled him with his arms, eliminating the empty space determined to keep them apart. Their legs tangled, and naked skin touched naked skin, no barriers placed in between any part coming into contact with another.

As if his body finally registered that it wasn’t going to get a release of all this pent up energy anytime soon, Kyubin’s heartbeat began to slow, and everything inside him mellowed. Yoojung’s hold on him was tight in a way that made him feel secure. It felt understated and comforting in a way that a naked person against him never had before, and it was enough to push all the things that might have been arousing about this into insignificance.

He could feel Yoojung’s breath on the nape of his neck, and a smile formed on his face. For all the profound emotions that swept over him in the last few minutes, what they were doing was such a simple and straightforward deed. He was falling asleep in the arms of someone who needed him. It wasn’t anything more, and it wasn’t anything less. It was an answer to something, and it was all-encompassing.

“I feel like saying something really corny right now,” Yoojung told him.

Kyubin’s smile grew wider as he pressed their intertwined hands closer to his chest. “I don’t believe it’s corny if it's how you really feel. Go ahead.”

“I just feel so… quiet inside. I've been spending too much time in my own head recently. Putting myself down over every small thing that’s ever gone wrong. But now all that’s gone. It all went quiet.”

Kyubin could have taken this as a que to apologize for not having given this to him back when he needed it most, but he decided that pressing a kiss to Yoojung’s wrist would be a better use of his mouth. Yoojung nuzzled the side of his neck, and for a second, it felt like his unsaid apology was met with an expression of forgiveness. But of course, it was just an unrelated gesture, which was probably for the better. Guilt was as good a fuel as any, and Kyubin was determined to carry it until he could give Yoojung every good thing he deserved.

“I told you there were warm nights ahead of us,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and settled more comfortably into Yoojung’s hold.

Yoojung hummed. “You did. I’m glad you were right.”

“So am I. And this is just the first warm night of many, my sunshine.”

He didn't realize he said anything out of the ordinary until he heard a disoriented, “What?”

“Huh?” he asked through a yawn.

“Why’d you say that?”

Kyubin forced his eyes open so he could think more clearly. “What did I say? I can't remember. Something about it being warm?”

“Yeah, and then you said my sunshine. Like I was… like you were calling me that.”

“Oh,” he chuckled with embarrassment. “Seems that I still have pet names on my mind. I’ve gathered you're not a fan, sorry. I won't say that again.”

He could feel Yoojung fidget as he tried to figure out a better position for their legs. “But why sunshine of all things?” he asked, sounding more awake than Kyubin felt. “Because of my hair?"

"Maybe? I haven’t given this any thought, it just slipped out.” He only had the relaxation filling every bit of him to blame for what he said next. “It makes sense when I think about it though. You just… you've got so much warmth to share, and there's this light that seems inherent to you. I can't believe others don't see it when it shines so bright, cause it’s almost blinding. Although I guess that explains everything. It hurts their eyes to stare directly at you, so they look away.”

The silence that followed was enough to inject him with a dose of unease and erase all traces of drowsiness. He quickly replayed what just came out of his mouth, trying to pinpoint if he said anything that sounded differently from what he intended, but all worries were waved away by a kiss on his shoulder.

“You can call me that, if you want,” Yoojung said softly. “Sometimes.”

Kyubin really wished he could see his face, and maybe kiss it while he was at it, but the position they figured out was too nice to ruin it. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that. How often would that be, do you think?”

“Only when you really feel like it. When it’s genuine.”

Kyubin hesitated for only a second before saying, “Sleep well, sunshine.” He expected the word to feel odd on his tongue the second time around, and it did. It also filled him with a kind of joy that overshadowed the awkwardness and made him want to repeat that pet name until it started to come out naturally.

Yoojung pressed his face into Kyubin’s hair and took a deep breath, not saying anything back, but Kyubin didn’t need him to respond. He had him right next to himself, generously sharing the rays of his warmth, and that was enough.

Notes:

I wish I could confidently say the next chapter will take me less time than this one, but all I can say is that I’ll try my hardest to make the process quicker. I want to touch on some difficult topics and handle them with care, but I also don't want to keep you guys waiting forever.

Also if anyone feels like they might want to chat with me, my tumblr is skinzchoerim, feel free to hit me up about absolutely anything!

Chapter 7: elusive shimmer (part 1)

Notes:

As you can see from the title, this is only part 1 of chapter 7! Some of you probably thought I abandoned the fic, but I promise you that's not happening. With OnlyOneOf in their military era, I feel obliged to deliver and I hope there are still people interested in reading my fics. I wanted to post this chapter in May, but then I kept reworking certain scenes and pushing the deadline month by month. Splitting it in half made writing a bit easier and ensured I don’t get burnt out from the multitude of unfinished projects.

If you notice any mistake found its way into the text, please alert me. I try to highlight sentences that still need editing with different colors, but I was so exhausted by the editing process that I’m afraid I might have missed something.

As always, I hope you enjoy the read!

Kyubin got into the elevator and pressed the button with his elbow, carefully balancing two cups of steaming coffee and a bag of baked goods in his hands. As if that wasn’t difficult enough, his phone began to buzz in his pocket. All he could do was grunt in frustration and wait for the elevator to reach the seventh floor.

He opened the door to their room quietly so as to not startle Yoojung out of the peaceful sleep he left him in. The sight of his bare shoulder and tousled hair tempted to slip under the covers with him again, but the buzzing persisted, so Kyubin set the breakfast down and slipped out of the room again.

The called ID woke him up better than a double espresso ever could.

“Mom? Is everything okay?” he asked urgently upon answering. It wasn’t like her to call him out of nowhere, so every explanation springing to mind was worse than the one before.

“Do we not say good morning anymore?” came a cold response.

Kyubin leaned against the wall and let out a long breath, the spike in anxiety winding down. “Good morning. Are you feeling well?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Silence lingered for a few seconds as Kyubin struggled to figure out where to take the conversation from there. “Dad said you fainted a few weeks ago. Have you talked to a doctor about it?”

“I’ve been visiting one quite frequently. As a matter of fact, I’m going now.”

That explained the faint humming Kyubin heard in the background. “Is Dad driving you?”

“I’m taking a taxi,” she said, putting emphasis on the last word to indicate she wasn’t pleased with this mode of transportation. “I've been getting to know all the local drivers. Terrible conversationalists, some of them. Some don't speak at all, for better or worse.”

Even though she was miles away, Kyubin still felt second-hand embarrassment on behalf of whoever was driving her at the moment. “I’m sorry about that. What about your medication? Have you found any that helps?”

She scoffed. “You sound just like them. I called my son only to hear a stranger on the other side.”

“I'm sorry.” Kyubin started to pace the hallway to relieve some of the frustration this conversation was causing him. “What did you call to talk about?”

“To check if you're alive and are planning to show your face around here anytime soon.”

“Right, I apologize for missing your birthday. I should have called you, I know a text wasn't enough.”

“Oh, don't bother,” she said stiffly. “You’ve made it quite clear it's all just a burden to you.”

“No, not at all, I just- I've been really busy with work.”

She made a derisive sound. “Honestly, the men in this family. Nothing but work, work, and more work. This is no way to live.”

Kyubin paused his pacing, taken aback by the sympathy her words triggered in him.

His parents’ relationship was always a bit of a mystery, and he could never pinpoint if they regretted getting married or if it was his presence in the room that brought out all the animosity between them. The photos in his grandmother's album said they used to enjoy each other's company, so with him gone to another city, he assumed their relationship would return to how it was before they had him.

He wasn’t glad that things were deteriorating regardless of where he lived, but there was relief in knowing that perhaps the root of the issue was never him.

“Is Dad still as busy as he used to be?” he asked cautiously.

“Busier now, if anything. Nobody's ever home anymore.” She sighed. “Will you at least be here for Chuseok?”

“I will,” Kyubin assured.

“Alone?”

Kyubin hesitated, but only for a short second. “Yes.”

“Your father said you're seeing someone. Isn't that something I should be hearing from you, not from him?”

“I didn't tell Dad about it. He assumed.”

“You don't tell us a lot, do you?” she remarked dryly. “It's like you lost your voice after you were an infant.”

There it is, Kyubin thought bitterly. “I was taught that if I don't have anything valuable to add to the conversation, I shouldn't say anything at all.” He thought it sounded perfectly neutral, but he still began to sweat a little as he waited for her reaction.

“Valuable conversations come out of surrounding yourself with valuable people, and you were never good at finding yourself good company. Every year, I had to have a talk with parents of all the kids in your year to make sure they could be trusted to spend time with you.”

“Yes,” Kyubin said, stifling a sigh. “I remember that.” It definitely didn't affect his ability to make friends in his adult life. Not at all.

“Don't give me that tone, I had to do it for your own good. You always isolated yourself, even as a little kid. That big city career of yours would be nothing if I didn't make sure you had the proper social skills to survive. Now, about that lady of yours. Is it over already?”

Kyubin knew that condescending voice all too well, making it clear there wasn’t any other option in her mind; whatever relationship Kyubin created out of his own volition was bound to fail.

“No,” he said, propelled by some morbid curiosity to see how she would react.

“Weren’t you taught to speak in full sentences?”

Kyubin moved the phone away from his ear to take a deep, calming breath. Keeping his real thoughts to himself was a skill he perfected while living with his parents, but the more time passed, the less he trusted himself not to snap and say something he’d regret. “It's not over. We're still together.”

“Has she got a name?”

“Yes.” He paused to think of something, but his brain supplied him only one name, and the longer he took, the more it would’ve seemed like he was making it up. “It’s Yoojung.”

“Does she work with you?”

“No. She works as a barista, but her passion is dance. Originally it was ballet, but now she's pursuing modern dance.” He knew none of it would be met with approval, but after telling the truth once, he just kept going. Easier to keep up a lie when most of it is true.

“Yes, not everyone is blessed with the discipline it takes to be a real dancer,” she said, haughty as always. “Still, I'd like to meet her before you propose.”

Kyubin massaged his temples, realizing he just made things more difficult for himself. “No, I- we only met a few weeks ago, it’s too soon to even be thinking about that.”

“Son, you are now seven years older than your father was when he proposed to me. Is this how you plan to spend the rest of your life? No family at all?”

“No,” Kyubin answered halfheartedly.

She was silent for a while, and then sighed. “Send me a picture of her. If she exists at all, that is.”

Kyubin stifled a tired chuckle. “And if you decide I made a bad choice?”

“You're the ones spending the rest of your lives together. I don't need my grandkids to be pretty. I just want to see them grow up.”

Kyubin closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, ready to welcome another eight hours of sleep. Somewhere along this conversation, he’d let himself hope they’d taken a small step forward, but now reality came crashing back in. So many lies between them. So many opportunities for him to be a disappointment.

“I have to go now,” he said, getting ready to hang up. “See you on Chuseok.”

If he wasn't looking forward to it before, he sure as hell wasn't looking forward to it now.

The bed was empty when he got back to the room, only their pillows left on it. He looked around, disoriented by the missing comforter, but quickly noticed that the balcony door stood wide open. The coffees and food appeared untouched, so he grabbed them and headed out to join Yoojung.

He paused right before the threshold.

Yoojung stood there with the comforter wrapped around him tightly, reaching all the way up to his ears as if to squeeze all the cold out. The way he held himself and pressed his face into the material looked vulnerable, like even the weakest gust of wind would leave him bare and exposed, and it made Kyubin feel like he was intruding on something he wasn't supposed to see.

“Good morning,” he greeted quietly.

Yoojung’s head snapped toward him. For a split second, there was something deeply distrustful in his eyes, but in a blink, they returned to the emptiness which had become familiar in the last few days. “Yeah,” he said, almost a whisper. “Hi.”

Kyubin took a step closer and faltered. “Can I join you?”

Yoojung glanced down at the stuff he was holding. “We’re having breakfast?”

“Yeah, I got some sandwiches and croissants from the bakery across the street. Also, coffee.”

“How Parisian,” Yoojung said dispassionately.

“There’s also a place that serves Korean breakfast nearby,” Kyubin rushed to say. “We could go there, if you prefer.”

Yoojung shook his head lightly, a barely noticeable movement that wouldn’t have expressed anything under different circumstances. “I’ll put some clothes on.”

“Okay.” Kyubin smiled and set the food on the glass table in the corner, doing his best to ignore the ashtray standing on it. A sip of coffee and a quick glance at Yoojung covering his naked body with a bathrobe was a decent distraction from the unwelcome craving.

Yoojung came back with the robe loosely tied around himself, and this time, he was the one to stop at the entrance. “If you’re in a rush to get to work, you don’t have to wait for me to get ready.”

“I’m not in a rush.” Kyubin extended the other sandwich in his direction and invited him to the table with a movement of his head.

Yoojung didn't acknowledge it, opting to stare out at the street. “It looked like you were.”

“Did it? I just stepped out for a moment to make a call. I would've said something, but I didn't realize you were already awake.”

Yoojung finally glanced at the sandwich, and whatever was going through his head was overpowered by hunger. “Right,” he murmured after taking a bite. “Makes sense.”

At last, he took a seat, but his range of expression remained minimal, making it hard to tell if his troubles had been cleared away.

“Did you think I’d disappear without letting you know?” Kyubin asked, cautious of what he was stirring up.

“No,” Yoojung said with surprising certainty. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”

A gentle pressure appeared on top of Kyubin's foot. A look under the table revealed that Yoojung had rested his bare feet on top of his shoe, rubbing some warmth into them after they'd been in contact with cold tiles for too long.

Kyubin smiled around the edge of the coffee cup, his concern settled at last.

“About that call,” he started, attracting a curious gaze. “It was my mom. She was prying into my private life, so I told her about you. I hope that’s okay.”

“You told her you’re dating a man?” Yoojung asked, looking so unreservedly impressed that, for a second, Kyubin wished it was true.

“That’s the one thing I didn’t tell her,” he admitted.

“Are you planning to come out to them at all? Not now, but ever?”

“Only when it becomes unavoidable. I should've just said I'm single, haven't I? Now I've invited all these questions. She even asked to see pictures to prove this girlfriend of mine actually exists.”

“Why didn’t you say you’re single? Seems simpler in every way.”

Kyubin felt the depth of his objection even before the reason dawned on him. Although all he did was speak a few words over the phone to someone who might never meet Yoojung face to face, in some way, Kyubin had intertwined their existence in the world beyond their private little bubble.

This chasmic need for them to be inseparable felt impossible to voice, so he didn't even try.

“I wanted her to see that I have a life here,” he said simply. “That I'm meeting people instead of being constantly stuck at work. And, I don't know. I guess I wanted her to think I'm thriving even without their support.”

Yoojung seemed to think about something as he chewed slowly. “Have you got any pictures of me where my Adam's apple isn't showing?”

Kyubin’s gaze automatically traveled down his neck, and then to his bare shoulder where the robe had slid into the crook of his elbow. The sun peaking through a gap between buildings doused him in the warmest of tones, and somewhere between the unshielded him and the crumbs of a shared breakfast resting in his lap was proof of casual intimacy that felt like a safe haven.

“I could take one right now,” Kyubin said, hearing something enamored in his voice.

Yoojung raised his brows skeptically. “You want your mother to see me like this?”

“I won’t show it to her. This one would be just for myself.”

The look on Yoojung's face turned baffled. “Why? You've seen me looking way better than this.”

“I beg to differ.” Kyubin took a snapshot of Yoojung staring into the camera with bemusement.

“Then you've got horrible taste.”

Kyubin chortled. “Yes, I've got horrible taste for finding you hot with your hair a little messy and your bathrobe barely holding on.”

Yoojung paused with the croissant at his lips. He took the lapels of his bathrobe as if to pull them closer together, but then let go and sat up straighter, flicking his hair back in a cheeky way to reveal more of his neck. He leaned on his hand to create a casual pose. “Take as many as you want, then.”

Kyubin felt a wide smile spread across his face. Such a small thing, but it was a comfort to see that little spark of confidence return for a moment.

After the food disappeared from the table, neither made a move to leave. Responsibilities of the day ahead loomed over them as they consumed their coffee in small sips, each one smaller than the previous, the hum of traffic filling the minutes void of conversation.

When the sun rose higher, Yoojung closed his eyes and tilted his head back to soak up the warmth. Kyubin rushed to immortalize the sight in his camera roll, grasping onto anything that could make this morning stretch into forever.

“Do you have any plans for Chuseok?” he asked to stall the moment the final drops of coffee vanished from their cups.

“The café’s closed, so I'll probably be at the studio.”

It wasn't all too surprising that Yoojung's plans for the holiday deviated from tradition, but, like everything about him, it stirred Kyubin's thirst to understand more. Now that he'd proven himself trustworthy, he hoped Yoojung would be more inclined to speak about anything and everything without filtering himself, but he could tell it wouldn't be that easy. Every topic carried its unique baggage, so it was understandable if Yoojung didn’t want to open another one so soon.

And yet, Kyubin had to know. Gathering more information would help him steer them away from uncomfortable topics in the long run, so no matter how he looked at it, it didn't feel like selfish curiosity.

“It must be hard to spend the holiday like this,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Practicing while everyone else is visiting their family.”

Yoojung shrugged, his relaxation undisturbed. “I get a few days off work and the studio all to myself. It's great.”

“I see. Can I ask what you're planning to work on?”

Yoojung half-opened his eyes, and the look on his face made Kyubin slightly regret asking. “We're putting on a showcase.”

“Oh, right, you told me about it. I'm glad you managed to get that theatre deal in the end, that's great.”

Yoojung frowned lightly. “I don't remember mentioning it to you. Was it when we went out for ice cream?”

“Yeah, it was back then.” He kept quiet after that to not upset the mellow atmosphere any further.

“Only three weeks left,” Yoojung said suddenly. “And I haven't even begun to learn any choreo.”

It pained Kyubin how resigned he seemed to the fact that he had wasted too much time to start now. Although he knew the answer, he still asked, “Are you feeling up to going today?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Yoojung pointed at his expressionless face. “Can’t you tell how much I’m looking forward to it?”

That got a chuckle out of Kyubin. “Yes, you look thrilled.”

Yoojung stayed silent for a moment. “I'm kind of scared to face them. I bet I'm nothing but a lazy asshole to them now.”

“How about you tell them the truth? I'm sure at least some of them would understand.”

Yoojung didn't give it even a second of consideration. “We’re not close enough for that. I wouldn't even say we're friends. We’re more like coworkers who hang out sometimes, but it's not like we share our medical histories. Hyunggu called me once when he twisted his ankle and needed help getting to the emergency room, but that’s different.”

“It is, but… don't you want them to know that you care?”

Yoojung sighed. “Yeah. I don't want to tell them about any of this, but I have to show up. Maybe I'll be a black hole sucking up all the creative energy in the room, but maybe it will jog something in me. Dancing is usually the first thing I feel like doing when I start feeling more like myself. That and sex.”

“It’s good to have a balanced diet.”

Yoojung made a quiet, choked back sound that resembled amusement. “Choreographing is gonna be more of a challenge, but the theme they came up with for the showcase is Hope and Despair, so it shouldn't be hard to come up with something. At least for the despair part.”

“You could reuse the choreography you made for the audition,” Kyubin suggested. “Doesn't it fit the theme?”

“I'm supposed to include other people on the stage, and that one's more of a solo thing. It wouldn't work with backup dancers. Plus, who knows. Someone from BlueBlueSeoul might show up, and I'd rather they saw a different side of me. Something more polished.”

“Three weeks is longer than it seems,” Kyubin reassured him. “And you're not alone in this. They all want to put on a great show, so they'll help you through it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he muttered and rested his head on the table, using his arm as a cushion. “The longer we talk about it, the less energy I have, but I'll have to get to it whether I like it or not.”

“That's the same attitude I'm approaching Chuseok with this year,” Kyubin said, hoping to distract him before he lost all power to get through the day. “I’m not looking forward to it after how tense things got last year, but I have to go.”

“What happened last year?”

Kyubin racked through his memory. “I genuinely don’t even remember. That’s just how it is whenever we gather around one table. A small thing goes wrong, and the entire day is ruined. Nothing but tension and passive aggression left.”

Yoojung scoffed. “You mean it's not the essence of Chuseok to give your family an insufferable time?”

“It might as well be. Explains a lot about me, doesn't it?” Immediately after saying that, he closed his eyes in regret. “Sorry, I'm not sure what I meant by that.”

Yoojung slowly sat up straight. “Did they ever… I mean, do they even know about the panic attacks? Did they get you any help?”

“My dad walked in on having an attack once,” Kyubin confessed, the gentle concern in Yoojung's eyes pulling the truth out of him. “I know he said something, but I don't remember what. I'm not even sure I registered it then. Then, he just walked out and we never spoke of it again.”

Yoojung looked genuinely angered by this which felt like a hug to the hurt inner child. “Parents who don't care can go fuck themselves.”

Kyubin wasn't able to repeat that phrase, so he just nodded. “They can.”

“So what did you do? How did you help yourself?”

“Usually, I grabbed something that was laying nearby and focused on how it felt in my hands. I tore up a lot of notebooks that way. I'm not sure if it helped, but it was a distraction.”

Yoojung’s hand twitched, and he moved it a little closer. “I know you said it wouldn't happen again, but… if it does, just call me. I'll try my best to get you through it.”

The soft way he said it stopped Kyubin from feeling apologetic in advance for something that might not even happen. He met Yoojung's hand in the middle. “I will. Thanks.”

They both watched Yoojung's thumb trace the shape of Kyubin’s knuckles.

“About Chuseok,” Yoojung said. “You know, you really don’t have to go. You shouldn't put up with anything that makes you feel bad. And if you stay, you can take warm baths with me and give me massages when my muscles are aching.”

Kyubin held his hand a little tighter, swallowing the guilt of being a bad son. “You're making a strong case. I'll have to think about it.”

Yoojung kept caressing his hand for a short, peaceful moment before bringing them both back to reality. “We should probably check out soon.”

Reluctantly, Kyubin pulled away and gathered their things off the table. “Where would you like me to drop you off?”

“Home, I think,” Yoojung said, beginning to dress himself. “I'll grab a change of clothes and head to the studio after work.”

Kyubin watched out of the corner of his eye as Yoojung sat down to languidly put his feet into the pant legs. It was hard to imagine he'd find the energy to stand behind a counter for hours on end, let alone dance.

“I’ll come out to my coworkers today,” he announced, surprising even himself. “I know it won't change anything, but since you're facing a challenge, I thought I could accompany you.”

Yoojung looked at him with something akin to gratitude, solidifying Kyubin's determination. “Do you know how you’ll go about it?”

“No idea yet. I probably shouldn't do it by mentioning I spent the night with a man in a hotel, right?”

He thought it was an innocent joke, but seconds passed, and all Yoojung did was stare firmly at the floor as he put his shoes on and headed past Kyubin toward the door.

“I messed up, didn't I?” Kyubin asked, making Yoojung stop. “The hotel was a mistake.”

Yoojung shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s nice. I haven't been in a bathtub that big in a while.”

“But it made you doubt if I'm serious.”

“It does feel kind of weird that you wouldn't just take me back to yours,” he confessed quietly. “I get what you were saying, but yeah. It would've been nice to sleep in a corner of the city that's yours.”

“I won't make excuses next time,” Kyubin promised. “I really do want to invite you round. Just promise you won't judge my interior design choices too harshly.”

Yoojung's face cleared as if a cloud of dark gray had lifted to allow a little sun. “No way I'm promising that. If it’s horrendous, I'll let you know.”

A laugh tore out of Kyubin’s chest at a volume disproportionate to the humor of Yoojung’s words, but he couldn’t help it; he was relieved.

They drove through the city with the accompaniment of a few violins, arriving smoothly at Yoojung’s chosen destination.

“Wait,” Yoojung said as he undid his belt, exiting the car with no hurry.

Kyubin sent a nervous glance at the display. It was nearing 10 AM, and with every minute that passed, his late arrival going unnoticed became less plausible.

When Yoojung reappeared, it was with a frame in his hands. “Here,” he said when Kyubin pulled down the window. “I don't wanna look at it. At least not for now.”

“I'll hold onto it,” Kyubin vowed, putting the painting in the passenger’s seat.

Yoojung placed his hands in the open gap, keeping Kyubin from winding the window up. “So, uh. About these past few days. I usually feel even more like shit when I’m around other people, but this wasn't that. So, thanks. For, you know. Caring.”

Kyubin’s hands itched with the desire to touch, but he kept a firm hold of the steering wheel. “No problem at all.”

Yoojung bit his lip lightly, not stepping away just yet. “Listen, I know it's not what you want to hear after I ghosted you for two weeks, but, um…”

“You'd like some alone time,” Kyubin guessed.

“Like is a strong word, but yes. Just until I start feeling more like myself. Next time we see each other, it should be more fun than this.”

Kyubin nodded with a gentle smile. “Just text me once in a while, okay? So I know you're alive.”

“I will. And you, text me how it goes with your colleagues.”

“I will.”

Yoojung hesitated before leaning in for a quick kiss. “Kay. Bye. See you.”

The warmth in Kyubin’s chest remained long after Yoojung disappeared from the rearview mirror.

His determination to face the fear and have the uncomfortable conversation with his colleagues had yet to wane, but he knew it wouldn't take long before he found a reason to postpone it. The workday had to begin by taking a solid step toward turning the idea into reality.

Wookjin was the one he located first, but he barely managed to open his mouth before hearing him exclaim, “There you are! Boss called you into his office.”

Kyubin short-circuited. “Now?”

Wookjin patted him on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “I wish I could tell you you’ve got no reason to look so terrified, but that would be a lie. He’s in one of those moods where he acts like a cartoon villain. If you need a drink after all of this, feel free to join us.”

Kyubin nodded, but he could already tell he’d try to sneak out before they found him.

The curtains inside the office were drawn shut and the chair faced away from the entrance in an overdramatic fashion. Only the outline of short, spiky hair sticking out at the top made it known the office’s resident was present.

“Sit,” came a command in a grave voice.

Kyubin did, pressing his palms to his thighs so his pants would absorb some of the sweat that broke out.

The man turned around slowly, his chair letting out a long, high-pitched creak that would've been laughable if it didn't add an eerie undercurrent to an already tense situation. He leaned forward, weaving his fingers together as he eyed Kyubin with the disdain of someone who just found the culprit of a scratch on his brand new car.

“What’s happening, Mr. Shin?” he spoke up after an excruciatingly long stretch of silence.

Kyubin bowed his head. “I had a health issue yesterday, sir. And I slept in today, which I apologize for. It won't happen again.” Unable to look up, he waited with baited breath for a response.

“But that's not all, Mr. Shin, is it? You've been distracted for weeks now. Two of your clients-” he raised two fingers to emphasize the number- “called in to complain. One rang me five times this morning. I've been pouring through the numbers myself to see where their money has been disappearing, and after seeing how innocuous these mistakes are, I realized you're not a thief. You’re just negligent.” He opened a binder and turned it upside down so Kyubin could see all the places corrected with a red pen. “What have you got to say for yourself? Please, explain in vivid detail, I’m dying to know.”

“A lot has been happening in my private life, sir.” Immediately after the words left his lips, he pressed them together so nothing else would escape. Stupid, stupid thing to say.

“Ah. Private life, of course. Well, if that's more important than your career, I don't see why you shouldn't pursue it. Go ahead, focus on your private life without a paycheck and see how far that gets you.”

Kyubin felt his stomach sink. “Am I getting fired?”

His boss stayed silent for a long moment, and then sighed deeply. “If you were getting fired, you’d be talking to Ms. Kim right now, not me. I haven’t talked to anyone about this yet. You've been on a downward trajectory for a while now, but I believe the old Shin Kyubin is still in there somewhere. The man who won Employee of the Year three times in a row. All he needs is a wake up call. Wake him up, do you hear me?”

“I will,” Kyubin assured, too relieved to stop and weigh the pros and cons of that decision.

“I’ll hold you to that. It would be a shame to lose someone who can be so hardworking and dedicated when he’s trying his best. I need this every day from you, starting now. You have one month to prove to me you deserve to stay employed here, or I'm afraid we will have to say goodbye.”

Kyubin stood up and bowed low. “I will, sir. I will prove I deserve to stay here.”

As the door closed behind him, he replayed that sentence in his mind. I will prove I deserve to stay here. It was the only thing he felt he could say, but he wasn't sure if he meant it. After eight years of continuous effort, he didn't imagine a few weeks of living for himself would be enough to threaten it, but that's what he got for setting the bar so high. Reaching it without draining himself of all will to live was impossible.

Still, as he got to his desk, he got to work with laser focus. That brief moment of terror when it felt like all stable ground disappeared from beneath his feet made a boring, predictable day seem welcome. Even the familiar faces that he always avoided interacting with were a reassuring sight.

He spent the day making things right with the clients he’d let down, and although he ended with a faint headache, there was no regret. At least until he saw a text from Yoojung - a picture of his shoes pressed up against the practice room mirror - and he felt a pang of shame.

He stared at the blinking cursor for quite a while, wishing he could proudly announce he'd done something brave, something that proved he wasn’t the same worn out, pitiful man as when they first met.

Eventually, he just sent a heart.

Quitting is always an option, he recalled Yoojung’s words as he stared at the ceiling late in the night.

Although it would prove a challenge to exit his comfort zone and sever ties with the place he dedicated so much of himself to, the most reasonable part of him could tell there was no better option. A place that had no expectations for him beyond being adequate at his job; a clean slate. If he wanted to, he could fundamentally uproot his life the very next day.

He grabbed his phone and typed in Jobs for accountants in Seoul, but locked the screen before the results could load. The room was enveloped in darkness once more, and Kyubin sat with the shame of deep-rooted inadequacy. A whole world of opportunities right at his fingertips, and he couldn’t bring himself to face it. Something in him froze at the thought.

Over the following days, the solace found in routine continually won over any hint of courage to leave his comfort zone and do something that would benefit him in the long run. The desire for honesty with his colleagues didn't go away either, but he stopped himself anytime he got close to initiating a conversation.

Naturally, staying passive only made him feel worse about himself, so he welcomed it when Yongsoo ran into his cubicle with an overjoyed smile.

“I got an invitation for Jiyeon and Dongmyung’s wedding!” he announced as he thrust a white card decorated with pictures of flowers in Kyubin's face.

“That's great,” Kyubin said, struggling to put faces to the names.

Yongsoo searched Kyubin’s desk with his gaze. “You didn't get one?”

“No. To be honest, I'm not sure I know who they are.”

“They're both kind of short. Jiyeon often wears blue and Dongmyung is almost always stuck to her side. It's been obvious for months that they're seeing each other, but they only announced it last week when we went out for drinks.”

“Right, now I know who you're talking about. I’ve seen them invading each other’s personal space a few times. I wondered if that’s something that should be reported to HR.”

Yongsoo paused. “There’s no rule against relationships between colleagues, right?”

“No, but there is a rule against inappropriate behavior in the workplace.”

“Oh.” Yongsoo visibly relaxed. “That’s fine, then.”

Kyubin observed him carefully. “Why are you asking? Are you having a workplace romance?”

“My favorite coffee shop closed down,” Yongsoo said suddenly, his voice louder than before. “Their apple cake and hot chocolate were the best, and I'd kill for some of it now. Do you know any good places I could try?”

Kyubin couldn't contain a chuckle at the abrupt change of subject. “I do know one, yes. It's called Ultimate Bliss. I’m not sure about their apple cake, but I can vouch for the-”

“Ready to get drunk?” Wookjin’s voice interrupted as his hand slammed down onto Kyubin's shoulder, making him almost jump out of his skin - not by the force of it, but how unexpected it was to receive this kind of gesture. “No, hold up, you said you've got some hangup about drinking. How about dinner? You’ll be paying for it though.”

“We’re having apple cake and hot chocolate,” Yongsoo said. “At some place called Ultimate Bliss.”

Kyubin paused. “No, I'm fine with us going for dinner and drinks.”

Yongsoo groaned quietly. “Come on, please? I need my comfort food after the week I've had.”

“And we're drinking too much these days,” Jisung added. “Let’s switch it up.”

Kyubin busied himself with brushing a bit of dust off the top of the computer, buying himself time to figure out how to go about this.

As much as he'd welcome a drink, he still didn't trust himself not to say something stupid under influence. If he was going to bring up a sensitive matter, he needed full control over the information he shared. Going to Ultimate Bliss could prompt a natural segue into the conversation with a casual mention that he’s seeing the man who served them, but he wasn’t sure if involving Yoojung so directly was the right thing to do, especially since he didn't receive any sign that Yoojung was feeling better.

“Alright then,” Wookjin stated when Kyubin took too long to come up with a response. “If you have to think about it that hard, I don’t see any reason not to go. Unless you have insider intel that they’re putting poison in their apple cakes.”

Kyubin glanced between the three pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly, and he couldn't tell them no. Not when this could be his only opportunity to bond with them while they're still coworkers. “You’re right,” he said, hoping it was the right decision. “Let’s just go.”

On the bus, he wrote Yoojung a quick text.

7:49 PM Hey, how have you been holding up? My colleagues are interested in sampling the Ultimate Bliss menu. I hope you don’t mind.

“Who's Yoojung?” Yongsoo asked right by his ear. “Do you know someone who works where we're going?”

Kyubin hid the phone from his view. “You shouldn't read other people's correspondence.”

Wookjin snickered. “That’s what I keep telling him! He’s too nosy. I don't know where he gets that from.” His sly grin told Kyubin the obvious answer, further confirmed when Wookjin asked, “So is that why you didn’t want to go there today? Had a fight with your girlfriend?”

“We didn't have a fight, and Yoojung isn’t my girlfriend.” He hoped to add something to that, but the weight of his image made it difficult to form the words, and he grit his teeth in frustration.

Jisung must have noticed it because he sent Kyubin a concerned look. “Guys, you’re making him regret agreeing to this. Behave.”

Wookjin snorted and cupped his hand around his mouth to whisper theatrically, “He likes to pretend he’s all decent, but he’s more hungry for gossip than Yongsoo or me.”

“Hey, no,” Jisung protested. “I’m interested in the people around me in a perfectly normal way.”

“Keep lying to yourself.”

Jisung gave him a side stare and turned to Kyubin with a noticeably more amicable expression. “Thanks for giving Wookjin a chance to read out the speech I wrote. It might seem like a boring task, but I had a lot of fun with it. It reminded me how much I enjoyed writing assignments in school.”

Wookjin nudged him. “I told you, stop being coy. He's working on a novel right now,” he explained to Kyubin. “I could send you a sample if you want.”

"No, you couldn't," Jisung said sternly.

"Why? This is the perfect chance to get an outsider's opinion! You never believe me when I tell you how good you are, so-"

"Please, Wookjin," Jisung said patiently, but there was a warning in his voice. “Not now.”

Wookjin rolled his eyes but said, "Fine.”

Silence fell between them, but the tension dissipated when Wookjin elbowed Jisung in the side. After a short moment, Jisung elbowed him back, and the smiles on their faces made Kyubin feel like he was intruding on a private ritual that only these two could comprehend.

“They argue like an old married couple,” Yongsoo whispered to him.

“And make up like preschoolers,” Kyubin whispered back.

One glance through Ultimate Bliss’ window revealed it was filled to the brim with customers, but that didn't deter Yongsoo who marched right in.

Kyubin trailed behind to not attract questions when he greeted Yoojung, but the small crowd gathered by the counter made it impossible to get closer. All he got was a glimpse of soft, sprightly curls among the backs of faceless heads, but that was enough to tell that his movements weren’t so sluggish, and the care he put into his appearance also seemed like a good sign.

Newly invigorated, he joined the others at a table, all three already crammed on a small couch with Jisung in the middle. He had Wookjin's arm looped through his and Wookjin's chin on his shoulder as they both read the menu card Jisung held.

Kyubin checked Yongsoo's face for a sign of jealousy, but the boy was also focused on the menu. His hands were in his own lap, but his side was pressed firmly to Jisung the same way Wookjin was, and Kyubin felt more confused than ever.

“Chopin,” Wookjin said suddenly. After getting three confused stares, he pointed up at the speaker. “I almost learnt how to play this in high school, but I forget what it’s called.”

Only then did Kyubin notice that the music hidden beneath all the chatter sounded different. “Waltz number seven, C-sharp minor, opus sixty-four,” he answered, focused on searching for Yoojung’s gaze.

“Well, damn,” Wookjin chuckled. “My piano teacher would've loved you.”

“I never played, just listened. It’s not an easy piece, as far as I know. You must've been really good.

“Ah,” Wookjin waved his hand humbly. “These days, I just do it for fun. It's much better this way.”

Yoojung finally glanced their way and his eyes met Kyubin’s, prompting a joyous twitch in Kyubin’s chest. He sent him private smile, but Yoojung had already looked away by then, nodding at whatever a customer was saying with a polite smile fixed onto his face.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” Yongsoo announced, pulling Kyubin’s attention back to their table. He followed Yongsoo with his eyes, hesitant between checking on him and inquiring about the situation from the other side.

“Since Yongsoo wanted apple cake and hot chocolate, how about we all get the same?” Jisung asked, putting the menu down.

“Sure,” Kyubin said, distracted by the sight of Jisung's fingers weaving through Wookjin's in a manner so natural as if they'd taken this journey a thousand times before.

Before he could conceal the glee underscored by a pang of envy, he got an amused look from Wookjin. “Go on, ask what you wanna ask.”

Kyubin tried to gauge how Jisung felt about the prospect of having this conversation, but Jisung was already staring at him like he couldn't wait to hear what he’d ask.

“I noticed that you two are... pretty close.”

Wookjin snorted. “Yeah, you could say we're close. We've been dating for almost a year now.”

“Over a year,” Jisung clarified.

“What? No, I asked you out in October.”

“But there was that thing in July, remember? We were pretty much dating already then.”

“That doesn't count as dating, that was just-”

“Let’s stop there,” Jisung interrupted quickly. “I don't think Kyubin asked because he cares about the detailed timeline of our relationship.”

“Good point,” Wookjin chuckled. “We wouldn't want to shock you too much.”

It would take a lot more than that to shock me, Kyubin thought, but all he said was, “I suspected this might be the case, but I didn't want to assume.”

“The two of us aren't exactly hiding,” Wookjin said. “We're not going around announcing it to everyone, but pretending is a waste of energy. If someone's bothered by it, that's their business.”

Kyubin wasn't sure if he admired this attitude or found it naive. “Is neither of you worried that it could impact your job if the wrong person found out?”

Wookjin shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen? We have to find a different place to work at? I'm fine with that. I hate staying in one place for too long anyway.”

“And I'd go wherever he went,” Jisung added.

“Your bond must be very strong.”

He realized belatedly that this kind of sappy remark probably didn't fit the image of him they had in their heads, but if either of the two was surprised, they didn't show it.

“It is,” Wookjin said, sending Jisung a fond look. “We just get each other, you know? What more could you ask for?”

“Not much,” Jisung replied, voice laced with affection.

Kyubin checked that Yongsoo was still in the bathroom before saying, “There's something else I've been wondering, if you don't mind me prodding. Are both of you okay with Yongsoo taking up your alone time?”

Wookjin nodded like it was the easiest question in the world. “We don't need that much alone time. We like being around people, and Yongsoo fits right in.”

Jisung gazed at Kyubin thoughtfully. “You're worried about him.”

“I hope I don't have any reason to.”

“We’re not toying with him, if that's what you mean. We always make sure he feels included. We’re still figuring out exactly what this is, but it seems to be working for all of us. Yongsoo has a very curious and open mind, and he's on board with this being a bit… unconventional.”

Kyubin nodded. “Good. I'm glad.”

Wookjin narrowed his eyes. “You’re surprisingly chill about all of this.”

All Kyubin could do was shrug nonchalantly. “Despite how I might come across, I'm not a bigot.”

“I never thought you were. I just didn't expect you'd be okay with casually chatting about this. Who knows, you might have a rule about not discussing your coworkers' private lives or something.”

Kyubin hesitated. “We’re not working right now. No topics are off the table after hours.”

Wookjin gave him a sly smile. “So he knows how to loosen up after all. Good to know.”

Kyubin really wanted to say something to that, but he was interrupted by Yongsoo’s reappearance.

“Is that her?” he asked, gesturing with his chin toward Yoojung who was wiping off a table near them. “Your girlfriend?”

Wookjin stifled a chortle. “I’m pretty sure that’s a man, Soo.”

“Oh, really?” Yongsoo stretched his neck to get a better look, which earned him a hit on the shoulder from Wookjin.

“If you’re gonna stare, be subtle about it. Don't let my teaching go to waste.”

“Sorry.” Yongsoo ducked his head and turned to Kyubin. “So is she not working today? I don't see any waitresses around.”

Kyubin caught Wookjin's unusually intense stare and felt his stomach twist at the strange sense of transparency, but the instinctive response to the threat of having his secret exposed took only a second to shift into something pleasantly giddy.

“You know what?” Jisung said to Yongsoo and shifted to make space in the middle of the seat. “How about you sit here?”

Yongsoo beamed, then tried to sheepishly suppress his joy as he sat between Jisung and Wookjin.

“Can I take your order?”

Kyubin's head snapped up to Yoojung who stood with his hands in the pockets of his apron, looking at the residents of the couch with a slightly more relaxed attitude than he usually showed to customers. His gaze drifted to Kyubin only for a second, too short to discern why something about it felt unusually distant.

“We can place our orders by the counter like everyone else,” Wookjin said with a hint of a roguish smile. “No need to give us special treatment, mister waiter.”

Yoojung shrugged. “Seeing as I’m already here and nobody’s queuing up, I can do whatever I want.”

“Then we’ll take four pieces of apple cake, four hot chocolates, and a round of introductions.” He stared at Kyubin expectantly. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce your favorite coworkers to your favorite barista?”

“Right, this is Yongsoo,” Kyubin gestured toward the man who, though confused, bowed to Yoojung. “This is Wookjin, and this is Jisung. And, guys, this is Yoojung.”

“Cool hair,” Wookjin remarked. “I wanna go blond too, but our boss would hate that.”

“Everything I hear about that man makes him sound like he's got a tightly clenched asshole,” Yoojung said offhandedly, and looked up in surprise when Yongsoo made a shocked sound. “I said that too loudly, didn't I?”

“The truth has got to be said loudly,” Wookjin laughed. “Now spill, how did someone as cool as you end up with this guy over here?”

There was a slight pause before Yoojung said, “Talking to customers is part of the job. Occasionally you get a friend out of it.”

Wookjin raised his brows. “A friend, you say?”

“Wookjin,” Jisung said in a warning tone. “Sorry about him, he loves making assumptions about other people's relationships.”

“Yeah, and I'm always correct.”

“You thought Yoojung was Kyubin's girlfriend,” Jisung pointed out.

“Hey.” Wookjin raised his hands defensively. “We all assumed that. It's society's fault I never met a man called Yoojung, not mine.”

“I had a classmate called Minseo,” Yongsoo chimed in. “But everyone made fun of him for having a girls’ name, so he started going by Minseok. Apparently he was named after his grandmother who never got to meet him, so his mom was really disappointed that he tried to hide it. I think he later changed it legally, too.”

Wookjin shook his head. “I get a kid renaming himself so he doesn’t get bullied, but to change it legally? I can't even imagine the looks on my parents’ faces if I told them I'm getting rid of the name they gave me.” He smiled at Yoojung. “Good on you for keeping it. You're obviously a good son.”

The tone of Yoojung's voice sent a chill down Kyubin's spine even though the words weren't directed at him. “How about you don't talk about shit you know nothing about?”
You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wookjin let out a startled laugh. “Did I say something wrong?”

Yoojung forced a stiff smile onto his face. “Nothing at all. Apple cake and hot chocolate, coming right up.”

Kyubin stared after him over his shoulder, debating whether he should get up and follow, but Wookjin pulled his attention back to the table.

“I didn't mean to upset him,” he said, and for the first time since Kyubin had gotten to know him, he seemed a little embarrassed. “Seriously, what did I say wrong?”

“Family isn't exactly his favorite topic.”

“Do you know why?”

Kyubin shook his head. “Even if I did, I wouldn't want to gossip about it.”

“Right. That’s fair.”

He stayed oddly quiet after that, constantly glancing in Yoojung's direction until he suddenly stood up. “Come on,” he said to Kyubin. “Help me.”

Two trays were laid out on the counter, containing four plates and three cups respectively.

Wookjin grabbed the first one and waited for Yoojung to turn around with the fourth cup in hand. “Looks delicious, thank you. And I'm sorry if I ruined your evening. Sometimes you try to make conversation and you end up making a mess instead.”

That made Yoojung smile in a way that seemed genuine. “I’ve got a mop for that. All's good. Enjoy your meal.”

He met Kyubin’s eyes in expectation, and Kyubin swallowed nervously, Wookjin’s presence at his shoulder rapidly shrinking his supply of words. “Uh. Hi.”

Yoojung turned away, a hint of irritation in the barely noticeable roll of his eyes. “Sure. Hi.” Without waiting for more, he disappeared into the kitchen.

“So,” Wookjin drawled. “How long have you been together?”

“What makes you think we are?” Kyubin muttered, not proud of the words leaving his lips.

“Because you two clearly don't know how to treat each other around other people, and that's not something you see with two platonic buddies.”

Kyubin had the truth formed in his mind but it kept getting stuck, pushed deeper and deeper until he couldn’t even remember why he wanted to say it out loud in the first place. He grit his teeth as he grabbed the other tray, boggled as to why this felt so difficult after it went so smoothly with Junhyung.

“Guys,” Wookjin said as they distributed the food around the table. “Did we ever let a secret slip?”

“Other than our own, no,” Jisung said, unfazed as if he and Wookjin were on the same wavelength without exchanging a word. “The more friends we have, the more careful we are not to betray anyone's trust.”

“I told someone's secret in middle school,” Yongsoo said with a troubled frown. “The guilt made me so sick that I hid in the bathroom for the rest of the day. I could never do that again.”

“Good.” Wookjin sent Kyubin a quick smile before tasting the cake. “Mhm, that's the stuff. I’m devouring it to the last crumb even if it’s poisoned.”

“It tastes exactly the same as the one I've been craving,” Yongsoo mumbled with a forkful in his mouth. “Thanks for letting me know this place exists.”

“No problem.” Kyubin took a sip of chocolate to calm himself down. “So, uh. About a month is the answer to your question.”

“Nice.” Wookjin raised his hand with the palm facing Kyubin, and Kyubin tempered down the agitation rapidly veering into exhilaration as he gave him a high five. The sudden openness in his chest as all the weight lifted made it feel as if he could float up to the ceiling.

“What’s happening?” Yongsoo asked, giving everyone a perplexed look.

“We’ve got another one,” Wookjin said with a wink.

“Oh, so he and you really are a thing?” Jisung asked, and Kyubin appreciated the effort to conceal his disbelief.

“Oh, come on, don’t pretend you didn’t get the feeling they’d be happy if we suddenly combusted and left them all alone.”

“I did sense a certain vibe, but I assumed you’re still dancing around it and waiting for someone to make the first move. That’s why I was telling Wookjin to shut up and not interfere.”

“We really are a thing.” He stole a quick glance at each of the three supportive looks, lingering on Yongsoo who seemed positively elated by the news. “I suppose we might seem awkward since our first month hasn’t been your typical honeymoon phase. Not our fault. Circumstances.”

Jisung nodded. “If you get through that sort of thing right at the beginning and the spark doesn't go out, that's a good sign.”

“Now I'll have to tip him every time I come here,” Yongsoo said with pretend disappointment.

“You don't have to.”

“No, I do. Least I can do to thank him for making you look happier recently.”

Kyubin looked down, overwhelmed by the kind attention. “In that case, go ahead.”

“Isn't it crazy that today's Saturday?” Yongsoo asked.

“Right!” Jisung exclaimed like that was a normal thing to be excited about. “That's the fourth time someone came out to us on Saturday,” he explained to Kyubin before the three lounged into a discussion about coincidence.

Kyubin mentally checked out of the conversation when he couldn't keep up with another inside joke, his eyes drawn to Yoojung who was cleaning the counter.

“Oh, shit,” Jisung said loudly, drawing Kyubin's focus back to their table. “The movie is starting in half an hour.”

Wookjin put his hand on Yongsoo's knee. “Shall we?”

Yongsoo looked between the two hesitantly. “Am I going too?”

“Unless you want to stay.”

Yongsoo smiled at Kyubin apologetically. “Sorry, I'm gonna go with them.”

Wookjin hit him playfully. “Don't say sorry, you're doing him a favor.”

“But I’ll pay!” Yongsoo asserted and put down a few bills that encompassed a generous tip.

As the door behind them closed, Kyubin looked around to check how many customers were left. He could see one in the corner with a laptop and headphones on, and the other two were already getting ready to leave.

He gathered all the empty dishes onto trays and made his way toward Yoojung who was leaning lazily against the counter and scrolling on his phone.

“You’ve changed the soundtrack,” he remarked while setting the tray down.

Yoojung didn't take his eyes off the screen. “I thought it would fit but it's way too classy for a place like this.”

“I think it's a good choice. It adds something to the mood.”

Yoojung's thumb continued moving up and down at a regular pace, and Kyubin waited, expecting him to put his phone down any second.

It didn't take him long to realize Yoojung was deliberately refusing to acknowledge him. Although it was a strange reminder of how it felt to be in this position months before, separated by a counter and awkward tension, it wasn't enough to do away with the lightness in his chest.

“I won’t bother you,” he said, which finally got Yoojung to look at him. “I know it looks like I used my colleagues as an excuse to see you before you're ready, but it's not like that. I kept putting off what I said I would do, and I hoped that if we came here, I’d finally do it. Now that that's done, I'll keep my distance like I promised.”

“Except you're already here, aren't you?” Yoojung asked, sounding almost bored, his attention back on his phone. “No point in telling you to keep your distance when you can walk in here whenever you like.”

That put a significant damper on Kyubin's mood. “You're right,” he said, exhaustion betraying itself in his voice. “I'm sorry.”

Yoojung's eyes skirted up to him briefly. “So. You told them?”

“I did. Sort of. Wookjin had to force it out of me in the end.” The joy brought on by reliving the memory wasn't enough to outweigh the shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought them here at all. It wasn't worth upsetting you.”

Yoojung finally put his phone away and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not a big deal. They seem fun. It just pissed me off when that guy assumed my name is a sign of gratitude to my fucking parents.”

“I think all he meant was that having a name that's normally given to women is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know, but my parents don't get any credit for that, do they? It's my name, not theirs. That's the point.”

The cogs turned in Kyubin's brain. “Wait, you- when you first told me your name you said something about choosing it. Was that not a joke?”

Yoojung looked bewildered, as if Kyubin was the one who just said something shocking. “You thought I was joking?”

“I didn't think you said it to be funny,” Kyubin clarified. “But it happened while you were still annoyed with me, so I didn't expect you'd want to share a real personal detail like that. It just sounded like you wanted me to stop talking to you and leave you alone.”

“I was trying to get you to leave, but that doesn't mean what I said wasn't true. Being overly honest is the best way to get rid of people.” The way he said it was very matter-of-fact, not betraying any emotion associated with the phenomenon, but Kyubin recognized the emotional weight of the words.

“It wouldn't work if you were trying to get rid of me,” he affirmed. “If I had realized you were being honest that day, I would've only been more intrigued to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that,” Yoojung said dryly, his gaze drilling holes in the floor. “Honesty seems to be your biggest turn on.”

His tone made Kyubin uneasy even before the implication of the words sunk in.

He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “Have I done something to make you regret being honest with me?”

Whatever he expected in response, it wasn't to see Yoojung’s face grow a darker pink as he fidgeted in place, eventually grabbing a cloth to vigorously rub a spot on the pristine-looking counter. “Not really,” he muttered.

“Then what's wrong?” Kyubin asked in the gentlest voice he could muster. “Tell me.”

For a moment, it seemed like Yoojung was going to change the subject entirely, but he paused before he could speak.

A customer passed behind Kyubin on her way out, and Yoojung bowed with his professional mask firmly in place. “Thank you for coming, have a good night!”

The second she was out the door, he turned the key and stayed there, facing away. “You knew it wouldn't take me long to get better. You suspected. Was it really so impossible to ignore me and leave me alone until then?”

“Yoojung, I-”

“Just answer the question. I'll know if you're lying.”

Kyubin wasn't sure how that was possible, especially when Yoojung refused to look at him. “I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. I had to show you that you've got support. It seemed like you needed the reminder.”

“And cornering me when I was at my lowest was the only way to do that?”

The quiet voice of reason inside Kyubin told him that perhaps an echo of past pain distorted Yoojung's view of his motives, but it wasn't enough to override the regret of not trying harder to offer comfort without breaching Yoojung's heavily guarded privacy. “I never meant to make you feel cornered, but… I get why you did. I thought my presence would be a small improvement over total isolation, but- yeah, I don’t know why I thought that. Sorry.”

He saw Yoojung's knuckles turn white as he clutched the handle. “You say sorry a lot.”

“I do. I suppose I have a lot to be sorry for.”

“That’s not what I meant. You say it too much. You shouldn't have to feel sorry all the time.”

Kyubin frowned in puzzlement. “Isn't that how you want me to feel?”

“No,” Yoojung said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and finally turned around to face him. “I’m being confusing again, aren't I? Sorry. These past couple of days have been weird, and before I could wrap my head around everything, you appeared, and I just… Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kyubin exhaled, relieved to see the familiar Yoojung emerge. “I understand.”

Yoojung choked out a laugh. “I told you I'd know if you're lying. And it's fine, I don't expect you to understand what any of this is like. How weird it feels to wake up one day and realize yesterday's you didn't know what's best for you. I hate how needy and self-deprecating I got, and that's why I'd rather just let it pass in isolation. I don't wanna have to deal with whatever mess I make when I forget who I am.”

Kyubin’s arms itched to embrace him until the steady beat of their hearts soothed Yoojung’s unease and reminded him that his honesty wasn't shunned - it was welcome. He might’ve acted on the impulse if it seemed like Yoojung needed to be held rather than to punch something. All this vulnerability must have been too much, too sudden. It was no wonder being denied the right to ease into it felt like betrayal.

“I’ve been taking all of this too lightly, haven't I?” Kyubin asked, pulling out the chair next to him. “Your boundaries.”

Yoojung sat down with a heavy sigh, some of his anger evaporating. “Thing is, I like that you don't treat any of this like a big deal. And I'm not saying I'm not grateful you were there, I just- I don't know. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about anything anymore.”

“If you don't feel great about me being here right now, I can go.”

“No, I- wait.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at Kyubin with a more friendly expression. “Hi. Sorry for lashing out. It’s actually really nice to see you, and I hope it's not too late to salvage this interaction.”

Kyubin glanced at the clock. “Would you look at that, it's almost my bedtime,” he joked, relieved when it made Yoojung smile. “Seriously, it's okay. Even when you're mad at me, it's the highlight of my week.”

Yoojung looked bemused. “Not coming out to your supportive colleagues?”

“Oh. Right.” Kyubin chuckled tiredly and rubbed his eyes. “I completely forgot that happened for a second.”

A small, concerned frown appeared between Yoojung's brows. “You okay? I haven't seen you this tired in a while.”

“I’m okay.” He tried to force a smile. “I’ve just had a bit of a tiring week, that’s all.”

He hoped Yoojung would let it slide without further questioning, but there he was, leaning forward, his eyes inquiring. “Did something happen?”

Part of Kyubin was dying to get Yoojung’s perspective in hope of finding a clear path out of the confusion, but another part was irked that he even considered it when Yoojung already had so much on his mind. “It’s just my job,” he summed up. “But you've had a long day, I don't want to bother you with it."

“It's been better in recent weeks, no?” Yoojung asked, staring at him like he was already too invested to drop the topic. “You found that balance you needed.”

“Yes, but I have a feeling my boss doesn't see me functioning well as a good thing.”

“Did he say something about it?”

“Uh, no. No. But it's apparent that I've been distracted lately, so I wouldn't be surprised if he takes issue with it soon. As he should. It's his job to push us to our limits.”

Yoojung studied him for a moment longer. Just when Kyubin thought he’d call him out on the lie, he said, “I guess. But if he says something, stand your ground, okay? Don’t let yourself be used.”

Kyubin nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“Alright, well.” Yoojung stood up slowly, drawing out every movement as if waiting for Kyubin to stop him. “The tables won’t clean themselves.”

“Would you like some help?”

Yoojung chuckled. “The day I accept this offer is the day I’ve learnt how to calculate tax return or whatever it is you do. This is your after-work time, enjoy it. If you want to grab something to eat or drink, help yourself.”

“Wait.” Kyubin caught his wrist. “Can I just ask, why Yoojung? What made you choose this name?”

“You can ask, but I won't answer.” He slipped his hand out of Kyubin’s hold. “Let's keep it an enticing mystery for now.”

“Alright,” Kyubin agreed easily, allowing him that veneer of mystery he needed. “I like enticing mysteries and I like the complicated truths hiding behind them. It's all you, so… no matter what it is, I like it all the same.”

A glimmer appeared in Yoojung's eyes which Kyubin only noticed because he was searching for his reaction so intensively. “Alright,” he said, the muscles around his mouth tense like he was deliberately holding back a smile. “Cool.”

“Really?” Kyubin asked, emboldened by the sight. “Is that all you're going to say?”

“What else would you like me to say?”

“Ah, I don't know.” He looked away, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “I thought I did a pretty good job.”

There was a jolt in Yoojung’s hand, and then it moved closer, stopping right above Kyubin’s head. A look of soft disorientation fleeted across his face before he pulled back and buried both hands in his pockets. “You did, yeah. That was a nice thing to say.” He cleared his throat and handed Kyubin his phone. “Here, this is my cleaning soundtrack. Pick whatever you like.”

Kyubin didn’t want to let this clumsiness in showcasing affection prevail, but the only solution that came to mind was to pull Yoojung into his arms and bury his face in his neck to soak up every bit of comfort his presence offered, and the atmosphere still felt too fragile to risk it. All he did was accept the phone and savor the brush of their fingers.

The playlist was titled Dirty Dancing with a mop emoji at the end, and it lasted over eleven hours. Kyubin scrolled through the tracks until a song titled Sunshine caught his attention. He hid a smile behind his hand as he clicked on it and relaxed in his chair, his foot tapping out the upbeat rhythm as he observed Yoojung for a sign of realization.

Once the song reached its cheerful chorus and the singer verbalized the title with prolonged vowels, Yoojung sent a quick glance his way, then jerked his head back down and focused on the mop.

To see him so tentative and abashed was an odd thing, but recent events had obviously pushed him far outside his comfort zone, so not feeling up to generous flirtation wasn’t a matter for concern.

Far more concerning was the dissonance between Yoojung and the music. He moved with energy but no regard for the rhythm, each gesture clashing with the heartbeat of the song. The next song didn't bring a different effect, nor the next, like his body didn't even notice the music. The only dance it engaged in was a work affair between his arms and a tool guided from one spot to another.

Another noticeable thing was that Yoojung kept stealing glances at the clock, and each time, he seemed to slow down.

“When do you have to leave?” Kyubin asked loudly so Yoojung would hear him over the music. When all he got was a blank look, he turned the volume down. “You’re going to the studio soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Yoojung said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I have to.”

“I see. And… how are things going? With the showcase?”

“Fine. Doesn't make for a great atmosphere when we're on a time limit and I'm struggling to keep up, but I'm getting there. Honestly, it's the least of my worries.”

“What else are you worried about?”

Yoojung halted for a second. “Nothing. I don't know why I said that.”

“It's nothing to do with me, is it?” Kyubin asked with a tense laugh.

Yoojung took a deep breath, but his lips remained sealed. Then, they shaped into a smile that reached his eyes and made him appear so authentically carefree that Kyubin almost didn't question the tempo at which this drastic change occurred. “No, nothing to do with you or us. There’s just a lot to do and very little time. It’s fine though, I’ll deal with it. Nothing for you to worry about.”

He got back to work without waiting for Kyubin’s reaction, his grip on the wooden handle rigid. To hear him dismiss his own worries and pretend they don't exist was at odds with everything Kyubin thought the relationship between them was built on, and he couldn't let it go.

He walked over to Yoojung. “What’s your favorite song to unwind to?”

Yoojung took back his phone with an apprehensive look as though even admitting his musical preference would reveal too much, but the second a quirky guitar riff filled the silence, his face brightened. “Recently, it's been this one.”

Kyubin locked eyes with him as his head began to sway, shoulders moving up and down to emphasize each downbeat played by a piano. Yoojung’s teeth toyed with his lips to control the smile that threatened to overtake, but still, no part of his body was affected by the catchy melody.

Kyubin pulled the mop out of his hold and let it fall to the floor so he could grab Yoojung's hands and get him to shuffle his feet a little. It got a laugh out of Yoojung, but then he shoved Kyubin away and got back to cleaning.

Kyubin pressed pause. “Would you dance if I wasn't here?”

Yoojung raised his brows, still carrying a smile. “Why do you ask?”

“I know you like to dance while cleaning up after work. That's the only thing I knew about you before I got to know you.”

“Just because I like something doesn’t mean I always have to do it.”

“No, of course, but I thought you'd like to unwind. But I guess if you're heading to the studio right after, it’s good to save up some energy.”

Yoojung’s movements grew less committed until he came to a rest. “I know I said it's the first thing I feel like doing when I'm no longer depressed, but maybe it doesn't always work that way,” he confessed quietly. “But I don't wanna talk about it, okay? It is what it is, and it's nothing I can't handle.”

He didn’t go back to cleaning, so Kyubin leaned against the table next to him, watching him twirl the mop in one spot. “What about the other thing you usually feel like doing?”

Yoojung stole a quick glance at him. “Haven't had the chance to find out yet.” His hands slid down the wooden handle, and the sight momentarily muddled Kyubin’s train of thought.

There must have been a delay between his perception of space and time, because without any intent to move, his hand found its way to Yoojung's back, resting just below the T-shirt’s neckline.

Yoojung went still, only his chest rising with every breath. A cautious whisper told Kyubin to pull away, but his hand felt stuck, drawn to the warmth of Yoojung’s body like a magnet. When it finally budged, it could only travel lower, and Yoojung's sharp inhale as he arched his back into the touch made Kyubin slightly dizzy with want.

“Would you like to find out now?”

The question broke through whatever haze Yoojung was in, and before Kyubin could react, he was already out of reach, leaving Kyubin’s nerve endings to hunger after him.

“A lot's happened since we did this,” he said impassively.

“Yes, but it doesn't change anything. We can pick up where we left off.”

Yoojung evidently didn’t share his impatience because he devoted a good portion of the minute to inspecting a hole in his jeans. “So, listen.” He picked at another loose thread, and Kyubin forced his gaze up from the enticing hands to the face hiding a hundred mysteries. “There's some stuff I said when my head wasn't totally clear that I’m not proud of. First, when I got drunk, and then again, last week. I guess in both cases, you could put it down to a mood imbalance. Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know trying to get in your pants to distract myself from a failed audition wasn’t cool.”

“What? You've got nothing to apologize for, I was the one who-”

“No,” Yoojung cut him off. “I was in a weird headspace and I clearly made you uncomfortable. I should've dealt with it alone.”

The three steps between them looked like a chasmic gulf for a second. He didn’t know which version to believe anymore - the one influenced by a temporary mood imbalance or the one spoken under clarity of mind that denied him the one thing he understood about his role in Yoojung's life. All he knew was, there had been a point when Yoojung trusted him to comfort his sorrow, and if Kyubin had just given him what he needed back then, they wouldn't be having this conversation at all.

This doubt only fueled his desire to put an end to Yoojung's mistrust. He saw what effect a single touch had on Yoojung’s body; surely, all he had to do was prove the hand offering it was a dependable one.

He took a step toward him and saw him clutch the edge of the table. “Isn't the point not to deal with everything alone?”

“It would make things easier for me,” Yoojung said, hair surrounding his face like a half-opened curtain. “For both of us.”

Kyubin crossed the distance between them, not letting the rigid way Yoojung held himself deter him. He touched Yoojung’s cheek and watched him press his eyes shut, a shuddering breath escaping him.

“If you can’t use me to feel better, what good am I for?”

There was hesitation when Yoojung looked up, his eyes in erratic motion to escape direct contact. Still, they never strayed far from Kyubin’s face, and he stayed put.

His attempts to conceal himself were rendered useless when they stood this close, when the shifts between keen and cautious blurred into a single picture of a man who ached to be seen while remaining hidden, and the exhaustion of this endless dance was written plainly on his face. It made Kyubin want to open his chest and hide him away, safe and invisible and wholly embraced, and he resented physical reality for denying that to them.

But there were smaller ways he could communicate this desire, gentle hints of what his heart whispered that he could only hope would manifest as calm settling on Yoojung's worried mind.

He paused before their lips met, waiting for Yoojung to make the final move. When that didn’t happen, he gently placed his hand on the back of Yoojung’s head and closed the distance.

In the stillness of the kiss, the memories stored in his body resurfaced with a tremor only Yoojung could bring, all summer notes and familiar shapes. He felt Yoojung’s mouth part ever so slightly, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing him with the pent up frustration of a man who had the object of his affection right there and wasn’t kissing him properly every second of every day.

He didn’t get a chance to overthink his greed because there Yoojung was, kissing back, grabbing him, pulling closer, untethered from all doubt and hesitation.

When they broke apart, Kyubin kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to confront the sight of Yoojung backing away again, but all Yoojung did was pull him behind the nearest bookshelf where he thrust his fingers into Kyubin's hair and met his open mouth with doubled heat.

The steadfast charge on his senses melted everything inside him that felt wrong. Troubles and exhaustion vanished in an instant, engulfing him in molten sweet pleasures and surrounding from all sides as if Yoojung’s desire was a protective coat against the coldness of the world.

He pulled away all too quickly, red-lipped and pink-faced as he caught his breath, a dazed but satisfied smile on his lips - a stark contrast to the gaping yearning in Kyubin not to stop, to pull him closer again and submerge in empty-headed, unperturbed bliss with no hope of coming up for air again.

“Mhm,” Yoojung hummed, wiping their saliva off his chin. “Better than I remember.”

Kyubin laughed breathlessly, supporting himself against the wall. “Yeah,” he managed to say, his body reeling from the promise of satisfaction after so many nights. He kept his gaze directed at the floor to not do anything heedless, but also out of fear that any second now, Yoojung's attitude might shift into dismay.

He felt Yoojung's hand on his chest, and his heart leaped at the touch. “I might need some more before I go.”

The surge of relief almost obscured the meaning of his words. “Right, you have to- you’re going to the studio tonight.”

“Were you hoping to get me all to yourself?”

“I was.”

Yoojung’s lips tensed as if he was holding a smile. “It's tempting. Being around you is making me painfully aware of how long it’s been since I last got off.”

“I know the feeling,” Kyubin muttered and tugged him closer by the hips, putting the final nail in the coffin of this strange tension between them with a kiss.

Yoojung laughed softly against his lips, the crook of his elbow a comforting fit for the tense back of Kyubin's neck. “Nice try, but you can't convince me it's been nearly a month for you too.”

“Of course it has.”

Yoojung's eyes widened. “No. Seriously? You haven't touched yourself since we slept together?”

The shock in his eyes made Kyubin smile. “Are you proud?”

“I’m confused.” He poked Kyubin in the chest. “Also a little insulted. You didn't feel the urge at all after everything I did for you?”

“I didn’t spend as much time thinking about the sex as trying to figure out how to make you happy again.”

There was a flash of something wild in Yoojung's eyes, and he grabbed Kyubin by the shirt with a hot whisper of, “Fucking hell, you're so-” before cutting himself off with a kiss. After it ended, he kept Kyubin pinned to the wall, hands wandering over anything they could reach as if to memorize the shape of a man who held back and waited for him.

“I’m what?” Kyubin asked, heart pounding. “What were you about to say?”

Yoojung chuckled softly, his forehead briefly resting on Kyubin's shoulder. “Someone's hungry for praise today.”

“I am,” Kyubin exhaled, feeling the hunger down to his core. “Please.”

The look on Yoojung’s face was of mild curiosity, his head tilted as he studied the unconcealed frustration in front of him. Just when Kyubin thought he would hear a sweet word of praise drip from those lips, they shaped into something sharper. “You think you deserve to be praised for not taking proper care of your body?”

Kyubin choked out a disappointed laugh. “I guess not.”

“No, hey.” Yoojung tapped him under the chin. “I want you to convince me why you deserve it. Make your case.”

“I think I’d rather be praised for doing something instead of nothing.”

“Hm, I see. What would you do?”

“Whatever you want,” Kyubin said, his breath hitching when Yoojung’s hands took an interest in his tie. His chest felt shallow all of a sudden, like the gentle pressure of silk against his neck had reached inside him and wrapped around his lungs, and it was as unnerving as it was titillating.

“Whatever I want,” Yoojung echoed. “Are you that eager to please or do you like doing what you’re told?”

“Uh, both,” Kyubin replied, unable to fully process the question when his whole body was aware of the knot at the base of his throat holding him in its grasp. All he could do was tilt his head back until it touched the wall, increasing the awareness of how surrounded he was.

If Yoojung noticed anything, he didn't show it, choosing to inspect the monochromatic slanted stripes instead. “Do you ever wonder what the person who designed the first tie was thinking?”

“No. Do you?”

“I do. Was it made just to hang around the necks of elegant men so you all can feel super important or was there a different intention behind it?”

“Like what?”

Yoojung gave him a sly smile. “You put one on almost every single day, I'm sure you can think of some alternate uses.”

Kyubin swallowed. “I can. Is this what you meant when you said some people have work-related fixations? They want stuff done to them with their ties?”

“Some do, yeah. One guy wanted to be tied up with it, another one refused to take it off. He told me wearing a tie to work every day made him feel like a dog lied to a corporation with a glorified leash, so he never took it off during sex as some sort of reclamation of agency over himself.” He poked Kyubin in the nose with the pointy end of the tie. “So what's your deal? Do you just like me touching it?”

The answer to that was more complex than Kyubin had the capacity to process. He had every reason to suspect that the choreography which inspired his fantasy represented something deeply personal to Yoojung, though he was fairly sure Yoojung wouldn’t mind if he found out. The reason he couldn't reply was the growing awareness within his entire body that this was about more than just one unfulfilled fantasy. Verbalizing what might be fueling this odd fixation on having something sit tight around his neck with Yoojung in control of the pressure was bound to open a whole new discussion, and he reckoned neither of them were up for that.

“I like knowing that you can pull me closer anytime you like,” he said. Truth, but only a sliver of it.

Yoojung grinned and pulled the tie closer to himself until their lips touched. “That’s my favorite function as well.”

Kyubin allowed himself to be distracted for a sweet moment before getting back to the conversation. “Is that why you did it in Crave to that other dancer?” he asked, watching Yoojung's face carefully in case he had to pivot.

Luckily, Yoojung didn’t seem fazed by the mention. “I did it because it illustrated the story well, but if someone saw me do that and fantasized about my hands pulling them closer, I wouldn't mind.”

“It did fuel my imagination a bit,” Kyubin admitted. “Especially since that guy was dressed similarly to how I dress. He seemed… aspirational.”

Yoojung’s lips twitched with a quick smile, then tensed apprehensively. “This fantasy, it- does it have something to do with the other one you mentioned? The one you called unrealistic?”

“That’s the one,” he said with a self-conscious chuckle. “You’d be hard pressed to think of a more unrealistic fantasy than one where you fuck my mouth.”

Yoojung stared at him, face frozen in surprise. “You-” His tongue peaked out from between his lips to wet them before he pressed them in a thin line, his eyes lit up with excitement. “Okay, first of all, it is realistic and we’re gonna make it happen. Secondly, oh my god, you love sucking dick.”

“So do you.”

“I know,” Yoojung laughed, “but I don't think anyone was ever as eager as you to suck mine. It’s- yeah, it’s nice. Good to know.”

The light dusting of red on his face made warmth bloom in Kyubin’s chest. “You’re right, it’s not unrealistic. The other parts of that fantasy are, but not this.”

“Were we breaking the laws of physics? That’s one kink I’ve never come across.”

Kyubin took his hands and intertwined their fingers just because Yoojung was there, saying silly things with a glimmer in his eye, so radiant and real. “I just know you better now. I can tell I fantasized about the performing you, not the real you.”

Yoojung looked up from their hands with a bemused smile. “Performing me is the real me.”

“Well, yes, technically it is you, but it's not exactly you, right? It's more like you’re playing a character in a story.”

“I don’t play characters,” Yoojung said, sounding oddly bothered by the assumption. “So whatever you fantasized about, you fantasized about me.”

Another argument settled on Kyubin's tongue, but he kept quiet, cautious of a single misstep that would shatter the thin ice he was on. This divide wasn’t something he perceived when he watched Yoojung dance in the park or any other recording he’d seen; each contained a trace of something that the cold, nonchalant, somewhat heartless man in Crave didn’t possess. Perhaps he just didn’t look at it from the right angle.

“Okay,” he said, accepting that this was just one of those things he wouldn't understand the same way a performer did. “All I'm trying to say is that I like the version of you I have in front of me more than who I saw on the screen. Nothing more.”

“Okay,” Yoojung said, though he didn't seem reassured. “Why, though?”

“Because I prefer the real you to a recording, I suppose.”

That answer was also evidently unsatisfactory, but Yoojung simply shrugged. “Right, makes sense. I don't know why I'm making a big deal out of this.”

“You’re right to do so if I misunderstood your work,” Kyubin said quickly. “If you help me see what I missed, I’d be grateful.”

Yoojung shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

“I see. I'm guessing you have to run soon. Keep working on the showcase.”

Yoojung considered it for a moment before announcing, “I'm not going to the studio today. This-” He tugged Kyubin's tie, “is infinitely more fascinating. Especially that thing you said about liking to do what you're told. That piqued my interest.”

“Should I be scared?”

“I don't know.” Yoojung's eyes were a familiar shade of playfulness and his voice was doused in heat when he said, “If I told you I want you to strip for me right now, would you be scared?”

“We're in your workplace,” Kyubin whispered.

"Yes, I noticed."

“Shouldn't we turn the lights off before doing anything?”

Yoojung looked like he was seconds away from bursting into laughter. “We’re not gonna fuck here, I was just teasing you.”

“Oh,” Kyubin breathed out. “Okay, that's- don't laugh at me for assuming you wanted this when you're the one who keeps bringing up workplace sex.”

“I don't do it in places where there's food around. That's my only rule.” He stepped away, allowing more air into Kyubin's lungs. “So, what do you say? Where shall we go?”

“My place?”

Yoojung gave a satisfied nod. “Your place.”

The night welcomed them with a slight chill, making Kyubin shiver in his thin dress shirt. Despite the short sleeves and flowy material of his T-shirt, Yoojung didn’t appear as affected. He closed up without hurry, his focus seemingly somewhere else, and Kyubin made a mental note to start carrying a jacket - for Yoojung to borrow and for the sight of his possession hugging Yoojung's frame to warm him up in turn.

As they waited for their bus to arrive, Yoojung faced him, his shoulders squared defensively against the wind.

“I know it sounds impossible, but I haven’t always been this sexy,” he said with a lopsided smile. “Whenever things got heated with a guy, I got too self-conscious to play around or initiate something I wasn’t sure he’d like. I fantasized about what it would be like to take charge, but backed down whenever I tried to initiate it. I just didn’t have that kind of confidence.”

“And making Crave changed that,” Kyubin guessed.

“Yeah. When I saw myself in the mirror, I knew that’s who I wanted to be. I wanted to be shameless and sensual, and I wanted men to earn my attention. I used to stay alone in the practice room to learn that feeling by heart, and I ran into someone one night. Someone who looked at me like I knew what I was doing and was more than happy to let me do my thing. Maybe it was him, or maybe something in me had changed along the way, but I felt so new with him. Some kind of barrier went down and allowed me to be more playful, more assertive. Taking charge stopped being intimidating when the guys I brought home responded to it so well. That's when sex finally got interesting. So, yeah.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I wouldn’t be who I am now if it wasn’t for Crave.”

“In that case, I take back what I said. I do see the real you in it.”

Yoojung shook his head. “Don’t just say that because you know that’s what I want to hear. Maybe I don't come across that way anymore, I don't know. It's been a while since I performed it.”

“Don’t be humble, you know you come across as shamelessly sensual all the time,” Kyubin said, nudging him with his shoulder. “Especially when you're in a certain mood. At a hundred, as we called it. I just didn't realize it feels the same to you whether you're on stage or alone with me.”

Yoojung took a moment to answer, distracted by the bus approaching them. “Uh, yeah.” He sent Kyubin a quick smile. “Exactly the same.”

After they boarded the bus, Yoojung headed for the sought after back row and seized the window seat.

When Kyubin joined him, he'd already taken out a pair of earphones and plugged them in. Kyubin didn't ask if we wanted to share, cautious as he was not to disturb the tenuous harmony between them.

With only the hum and occasional splutter of the engine to fill the silence, the thrum that had become synonymous with Yoojung's presence resounded even louder inside him. He'd hoped this shifting scale of anxiety and excitement would've found its happy center by now, but even in an atmosphere that felt a bit off, he was relieved to sit next to Yoojung on this route he'd been traveling alone for years. Nervous agitation was better than nothing.

A bump on the road that shook the bus resulted in one of the earphones falling out of Yoojung's ear, and he didn't put it back. Kyubin caught the beat flowing through it occasionally, sometimes slow, sometimes lively, but neither provoked any part of Yoojung to tap out the rhythm. He just twisted his hands in his lap and stared out the window, idly observing the passing streets. After a while, his focus switched to the window itself, and he traced the rain-drawn patterns in dried dirt with his finger. It might have followed some kind of melody, but it was impossible to tell.

“Do you regret not going to the studio?” Kyubin asked quietly, giving Yoojung the option to pretend he didn't hear.

Yoojung blinked, his finger pausing its journey. “Nope,” he said lightly, sending Kyubin a quick smile. “Zero regrets.”

Once he turned back to the window, his features reverted to their blank melancholy, leaving Kyubin to wonder if he was offered the truth or a polite lie.

“How many more stops?” Yoojung asked a couple minutes later, pulling out the other earphone as he gazed out both sides of the bus.

“Three not counting this one.”

He didn't expect his answer to make Yoojung scoff. “Alright. So what's all this about? You're gonna walk me to the door to make sure I'm not spending my nights running all over town again?”

“I- what? We’re in Cheongdam. Your place isn't anywhere near.”

Yoojung opened his mouth and closed it, his face a reflection of how confused Kyubin felt. “Wait, you mean- that’s your stop?”

“Yeah, of course. What did you think it would be?”

“Kyubin, my dance studio is a five minute walk from there.”

Kyubin stared at him with his mouth parted, slowly processing the words and all the implications they carried. “You're kidding.”

“Don’t tell me you had no idea. It literally says so right above the door, Underground Idol Dance Studio! I mean, I guess you could miss it if you’re not actively looking for it, but… fuck.” He laughed incredulously, which Kyubin mirrored. “How did it take us so long to realize this?”

“Maybe we should talk more.”

Yoojung snorted. “Maybe we should talk more about basic shit like what addresses we spend multiple hours a day at. I mean, we must’ve ridden the same bus, like, a hundred times.”

“Well.” Kyubin hesitated, a sudden wave of wistfulness washing over him at the abundant yet evasive nature of connection. “I used to work overtime a lot, so the chances I always ended up on a later bus are quite high.”

“That's true. Still, we could've easily met like this. You, going back from work. Me, on the way to the studio.” He pressed close to Kyubin's side and whispered, “Maybe I would've hit on you and you'd have taken me back to yours months ago.”

Kyubin focused on the lifted corner of Yoojung's mouth to stop thinking about the blurry silhouettes in his peripheral vision. “There's no way you would've hit on me after you saw me zoning out in the corner after twelve hours of work, clothes stinking of cigarette smoke and bowels messed up after four cups of coffee.”

Yoojung’s eyes flickered between the details of his face. “Don't underestimate how deep my weakness for tormented men goes.”

Something tender and giddy rippled through Kyubin's chest, and he hid his face in the crook of Yoojung's neck. “Do you think it's possible we would've run into each other no matter what? That’s what it feels like right now. Like our paths would’ve crossed even if I hadn’t walked into your workplace that night. Some kind of force drawing us closer, like gravity.”

Yoojung’s cheek touched his head, but only for a second. “It's not that unusual for people living in the same city to have their daily routines overlap.”

“But out of nearly ten million people living here, it's ours that did. We've been in the same orbit for years and we had no idea.” He pressed his smile to Yoojung’s shirt and inhaled deeply. “There’s gravity between us, I’m telling you.”

“Or maybe Seoul isn't as big as it seems.”

There was something complex beneath the softness of his voice which made Kyubin look up. “Why do you think so?”

“Some people have that kind of presence,” Yoojung replied quietly, his gaze unfocused. “They fill up space even when they’re not there. Makes a crowded city even more crowded.”

He shifted away after that and cleared his throat, a sense of unease written in the restlessness of his body. When he stood up to wait by the nearest door, Kyubin stayed in his seat, his eyes on the passing cityscape as he attempted to grasp the meaning of Yoojung's words.

To have Seoul mapped out with memories, be they good or painful, didn't seem like such a bad thing. These streets he'd driven through countless times wouldn't all blur into tediously indistinguishable contours had he walked them with someone whose presence lingered in the walls and sidewalks. It would've meant a lot to have made memories somewhere more vast than a bar table over which mutual interest was established or the few steps from a taxi to the door; a place where he could sit and reminisce about the few moments when something between them felt real. And Seoul would still feel just as vast.

But it wasn't hard to see why Yoojung saw it all differently. It wasn't just one Italian restaurant that carried unpleasant memories. Some vivid presence seemed to haunt him, poking its head out in unassuming places, between unassuming words and gestures, and Kyubin would continue to stumble across the pieces when he least expected.

The road to Yoojung's heart was starting to look like a minefield.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts and made him realize the bus wasn't moving.

“We're getting off now,” Yoojung informed him, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh.” Kyubin shot up from his seat. “Right, sorry.”

Once the doors closed behind them, Yoojung turned to him, his mood hard to gauge when he continued to avoid direct eye-contact. Kyubin was half-prepared to hear him say he'd changed his mind and would head to the studio after all, but in a blink, there was a smile on Yoojung’s face, and once again, Kyubin had to wonder how much of it was just a well-crafted mask.

“So,” he began brightly, “you live in Cheongdam?”

“I do, yes.” Kyubin pointed to where they were headed and took a cautious step, relieved when Yoojung followed without delay. “It’s just through there and to the left.”

“Wait, let me guess. That white apartment complex with a courtyard you can see through the gate, with trees and flowers and everything?” When Kyubin nodded, Yoojung beamed even wider. “Hell yeah, I've always been curious what it looks like on the inside.”

“It’s… spacious. Good security, fast elevator.”

“The rent must be insane though. I know you're not worried about money, but still.”

“I don't pay rent, actually,” Kyubin said, glad to have something to boast about. “Some apartments here are for rent, but I bought mine. With a loan, but I paid it all back.”

Yoojung was silent until the gate opened for them with a buzz, when he turned to Kyubin with a mischievous grin. “I wonder what kind of job you have to afford living here, mister… Kyubin, was it?”

Kyubin blinked, waiting for the punchline.

“When I saw you on that bus, I assumed you might be an office worker, but there’s a creative note about you. Do you work in publishing? The music industry? A museum?”

Finally catching on, Kyubin held back a laugh and got into character. “I'm just a boring accountant, I’m afraid.”

Yoojung shook his head. “You can answer however you want. Doesn't need to be true.”

“Okay then. I’m an accountant for the Seoul Philharmonic.”

Yoojung feigned an impressed look. “Classy. I bet you skip work to sneak into rehearsals all the time.”

“I do, yes. I’m such a rule breaker.”

“Can’t say the same about me. The wildest thing I’ve ever done was being ten minutes late to work when I got stuck in traffic. I’m a professional ballet dancer, by the way. You've probably seen me during some of those rehearsals, but you're forgiven if you don't recognize me. It's hard to memorize a face from that far away.”

As amused as Kyubin was, he had to break the act and ask, “Is this what you really would’ve said?”

Yoojung shrugged, leaning against the wall as Kyubin typed the code for the front door in. “Probably. Why? You don't think you would've been picky with the truth?”

“Picky, yes, but I wouldn’t have made up a whole life I’m not living.”

For some reason, Yoojung looked genuinely surprised to hear that. “Seriously? I always did that with one-night stands. It’s fun to be whoever you want for a night, especially if you’re not gonna see them again.”

Kyubin’s finger halted before pressing the number 5 in the elevator. “Right,” he muttered, shaking off a brief flash into the somber life he’d still be leading had that been the case. “I’d like to think we’d never actually be a one-night stand, even if it started that way. Either we’d hit it off or meet again by accident and hit it off then.”

The softness in Yoojung’s eyes wasn’t undermined by the jarring fluorescent light. “I’d like to think that too.” He looked down and bit his lip, shuffling his feet in place. “But I am curious how it would’ve been if we met and slept together on the same night. Aren’t you?”

The ding of the elevator bought Kyubin some time to think about his response. Part of him wanted to suggest that they could roleplay this scenario since Yoojung clearly enjoyed the short bit they did, but he felt too clumsy in that unfamiliar dynamic to risk making it happen that very night.

“I can’t say I’m not curious,” he said, taking the key out of his pocket as Yoojung took in the admittedly simple hallway with wide eyes. “But tonight, I think I’d like to just live in the moment. Is that okay?”

Yoojung laughed softly and blocked the door before Kyubin could press down the handle. “Prove it.”

Kyubin ignored the nervous lurch in his stomach at the thought of a neighbor catching him in a compromising position and pressed a quick kiss to Yoojung’s lips. “There. Satisfied?”

“Mhm.” Yoojung stole another kiss before moving out of the way. “Anytime I get a tormented man to do something gay and impulsive, I’m satisfied.”

Kyubin opened the door and gestured for Yoojung to enter first, himself taking a deep breath and preparing for whatever he might feel once he’s finally got Yoojung in there.

“Ever the gentleman,” Yoojung teased and stepped inside.

Kyubin shut the door behind them, his feet glued to the doormat as he watched Yoojung wander slowly down the hall with his shoes still on, the prints left by his soles on the freshly-hoovered gray rug adding a bit of decoration to the otherwise bland view.

Despite the utter lack of anything that would be proof of individual taste or personality, Yoojung studied the blank walls and open doorways as if the fact that he was among Kyubin’s belongings made everything worth paying close attention to.

Kyubin made quick eye-contact with himself in the mirror and wiped his sweaty hands, anxiously awaiting judgement. “Be honest,” he said, unable to stand the tension. “If you saw this in a catalog, you'd turn the page immediately.”

“Oh, I'd burn the page.” Yoojung sent a quick smile over his shoulder to show he was joking. “It’s nice here. Does it feel like home?”

The question surprised Kyubin only insofar as hearing the word home in relation to the rooms he lived in seemed unwarranted. “It feels like an apartment I live in.”

“Alright, different question,” Yoojung said, taking a long moment to scrutinize the kitchen. “Have you done anything to make it your own or was it like this when you got it?”

“I, uh.” Kyubin scratched his neck, a self-conscious chuckle escaping him. “Back when I got it, I thought I'd have a wife and kids one day, so making it my own wasn’t a priority.”

“Huh. So you’ve never imagined a home without a nuclear family?”

There had been times Kyubin wondered how his life would’ve looked with color and noise filling every room. The warmth of a kiss on the cheek greeting him after work might've eased the exhaustion at first, but slowly, he'd grow to dread the moment the handle would dip and he’d step into a home permeated by an illusion of warmth, their resentment toward him justifying his resentment of himself. “I’m not sure I can imagine a home at all, is my point. I don’t know what that would look like for me.”

“Home is just a resting place. It looks like whatever you feel good around.” Yoojung gave the doorway a pat before glancing into the bedroom. “I'll lend you my catalogues, I’m sure you’ll find inspiration there. Although with your budget, you should be able to hire an interior designer.”

Kyubin struggled to raise his gaze from the floor. “I should've done that a long time ago. I'm not sure why I never did.”

“Don’t take this personally-” He paused, waiting for Kyubin to look at him. “I think it all looks kind of apologetic. Like you’re actively trying to punish yourself every second you spend here, you know what I mean?”

“I do. You’re saying I should be more grateful for everything I have, and you’re right.”

Yoojung eyed the distance between them with a tentative smile. “I’m saying you should feel more welcome in your own home.”

That finally budged Kyubin from his spot by the door. “Right, sorry, I'm being a terrible host.” He showed Yoojung into the living room. “Please, come in.”

“Thanks.” Yoojung walked past him, the smile on his face wavering when he noticed the painting standing on a shelf. “Ah. I was wondering what you’d done with that.”

Kyubin mentally cursed himself for leaving it there. He’d put so much care into cleaning every inch of the apartment in anticipation of Yoojung’s eventual arrival, but that detail had slipped his mind. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, but I can hide it somewhere for now, if you’d like.”

“No need, it’s just a painting.” He hummed as his gaze swept over the room with the look of someone who was holding back some very strong opinions.

“What would you change here if this was your living room?” Kyubin asked, trying to sound like he was making conversation instead of begging for advice.

“Paint the walls something that isn't white,” Yoojung answered immediately like he’d been itching to get that out. “Put some plants here and there, that always makes a place look more cozy. That rug in the TV area is a nice touch, but I’m not sure about the black. A dark red would look nice since the couch is-” He paused, his mouth wide open. “Are you kidding me? This couch?”

Kyubin gave the couch a panicked once-over. “What's wrong with it?”

“What's wrong with it?” Yoojung approached it, grazing the velvet seat with his fingertips. “Nothing’s wrong with it, that's the point. I saw it once in a catalog and almost threw all my money at it. Is it actually comfortable? With a price like that, it can't be all style and no comfort.”

“Why don't you find out for yourself?” Kyubin suggested, deciding not to admit that he always found the red fabric a bit tacky but kept it to avoid going furniture shopping.

Yoojung caressed the seat before slowly transferring his weight onto it with a contented sigh, slumping down against the cushions that had supported Kyubin’s tired back during countless late evenings. “Fuck off, this is it. This is the couch of my dreams.”

He looked as snug as if his body had been shaped to fit anyplace Kyubin called his own, and the desire to be all over him until his scent covered everything crashed on Kyubin so suddenly that he had to look away and clear his throat. “Should I get us something to drink while you two get acquainted?”

“No need.” Yoojung patted the seat next to him, his eyelids drooping seductively or simply due to exhaustion. “Come here.”

Kyubin stepped closer, staying out of reach to keep the remains of self-control. “You’re still wearing shoes.”

Yoojung lifted one brow with an impish smile. “Take them off if it bothers you so much.”

Kyubin had half a mind to answer with a joke, but something inside him responded to the dare, a curious impulse that wouldn’t let him pass up the opportunity to play at Yoojung’s own game.

He lowered himself down to one knee and lifted Yoojung's feet by the ankles, watching his face morph into muted surprise as he rested the heels of his shoes on his thigh. His thumb brushed the bare skin above the cuff of the sock, and a spark in Yoojung’s attentive eyes told him he was doing something right.

As much as he desired to drink in every flicker of emotion across Yoojung's face, he knew he'd fumble the very simple job of untying the shoelaces if he got distracted or let the tension get to him, so he gazed down at his hands until both shoes were set to the side and Yoojung's socks touched the floor.

“There you go.” He sat on the balls of his feet and waited for a reaction.

“Thanks,” Yoojung said, and the unexpected sweetness of it encouraged him to look up.

Yoojung's eyes were fixed on him with gentle fascination, the kind of look that always made him suspect Yoojung knew him better than he knew himself. That should’ve been the point when he looked away to hide the parts that wanted to be hidden, but he didn't. He held Yoojung's gaze, and the intimidation that usually emerged faded into a faint echo in the back of his mind while the rest of him settled into a steady, pleasant heat. For the first time, he wasn't just a passive player in this game. He could affect Yoojung just as deeply.

“You look nice there,” Yoojung said with a lazy grin. “But that goes without saying. Most men look better on their knees.”

Kyubin put his hand on Yoojung's knee, easing into the newfound confidence. “And unlike some other men, I know my place.”

Something dangerous flashed in Yoojung’s eyes, and he spread his legs wider in a way that would accommodate Kyubin if he were to get closer. With his voice drenched in awareness of his own irresistibility, he asked, “Would you do anything I told you right now?”

Kyubin swallowed. “Yeah. Anything.”

“Then close your eyes.”

Kyubin complied, instantly zeroing in on every sound that surrounded him. He heard the familiar rustle of a body changing position with a quiet croak in response from the couch, and then Yoojung’s voice, closer than before.

“Open your mouth.”

He wet his lips unconsciously, the words hanging in the air as a mix of nerves and excitement brewed inside him. He parted his lips a little, then opened wider as hunger began to settle, tickling his throat and all impulses that made him want this uncontrollably, made him feel too empty without something hard and thick with a heady scent filling him.

He heard a crinkle of plastic, but before he could come to a conclusion as to the specific origin of the sound, something warm brushed his bottom lip, and a small, hard object was placed on his tongue, spreading the taste of sweetened mint.

His eyes shot open to Yoojung sitting back with a self-satisfied smile, his body disoriented from having its hopes and urges toyed with. He closed his mouth around the mint with some frustration and heard a crunch when it landed between his teeth.

“Was my breath bad?” he asked, trying to mask the disappointment with a smile.

“Everyone’s is after a long day,” Yoojung said lightly and popped a mint into his mouth, either unaware or careless toward the gaping hunger he left right in front of him.

“You can give me a more challenging task,” Kyubin pressed on, not ready to give up just yet.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Fuck, I don't know.” He laughed nervously and ran his hand through the hair stuck to his neck with sweat. “Whatever you want. That's the one rule of the game, right?”

“Say that again.”

“What? That's the one rule?”

“No, not that part,” Yoojung said, his stare intense. “Say fuck.”

Unsure of what the big deal was, Kyubin repeated, “Fuck,” and this time, he heard it. The word rolled off Yoojung's tongue like any other. When Kyubin said it, it sounded like a swear word.

“Good,” Yoojung said, mirth dancing in the corners of his lips. “Now use it in a sentence.”

Kyubin couldn’t find it in himself to stay dissatisfied when Yoojung looked at him like that, eyes imbued with the afternoon sun that warmed Kyubin to his very core. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A giggle spilled out of Yoojung's lips, but it was cut short when he coughed and cleared his throat. “Now you're just stating the obvious,” he muttered and squirmed in his seat, his face growing pink.

Kyubin barely managed to stifle a beaming smile. “It's worth saying out loud once in a while.”

Yoojung fiddled with his hair to cover his burning ears and drew his legs up to his chest. “How are your knees, old man?”

“Doing worse by the minute. Can I join you up there?”

“Sure.”

Kyubin massaged his joints before sitting down, not leaving much space between them. The desire to feel the temperature of Yoojung’s flushed skin kissed his lips and fingertips, so he shifted even closer, tracing the lines of his profile with his gaze.

Yoojung turned slowly toward him, his cheeks sustaining their reddish tint as he kept chewing despite the fact that mint should’ve already dissolved. Seeing him like this only fortified Kyubin in his composure. He wrapped his arm around Yoojung's shoulders, ready to capture his fretting lips in a minty kiss and get his hands all over him, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him.

Yoojung studied him for a moment as if taking the temperature of the situation. “Lay down.”

Kyubin stole a kiss before enacting his request, reaching for him before his back even touched the seat.

Yoojung crawled on top of him and instantly slid his hands under his shirt, leaving all the buttons done as he gathered the fabric and lifted it all the way up to Kyubin's armpits. He straightened the tie so it tickled the bare skin of Kyubin's chest and stomach, and that along with the tightness around his neck made Kyubin’s hips jerk up.

For all the fascination with which Yoojung regarded all these twitches he provoked, he wasn't nearly as impatient, and Kyubin wasn't going to just lay there waiting. He tugged Yoojung down to get some of that sweet friction, but before he could draw some satisfaction from the pressure, Yoojung’s hips lifted and Kyubin’s hands ended up trapped by his sides.

“Don't move,” Yoojung uttered and leaned down to trace the outlines of muscle with his tongue.

The strength disparity between them meant that willful compliance was the cornerstone of this command, so Kyubin stayed put, keeping his frustrated body in check. It took a great deal of self-control not to pull his hands out of Yoojung's hold and bring his body flush against himself, do something, anything that required a bit of effort. Being reduced to a passive role was too easy. His knees missed the hard floor, and his hips kept twitching, chasing friction that was nowhere to be found, the sounds escaping him increasingly frustrated as his muscles flexed with suppressed impulses.

He felt and heard a soft laugh before Yoojung kissed his neck. “I’m being mean, aren’t I?”

“No, it’s- you’re good.”

That earned him a gentle bite on the earlobe. “That’s nice to hear. It’s not often you get a guy so horny and still so obedient. Makes me wanna keep you like this for longer.”

The prospect made Kyubin audibly groan, and Yoojung’s chest shook with a quiet laugh.

“And that's exactly why. The more frustrated you are, the more sounds you'll make, and I wanna hear them all.” He raised his head to give Kyubin a pointed look. “Unless a few weeks of abstinence made you unable to handle a little frustration.”

“I can handle it,” Kyubin assured, more because he knew it would please Yoojung than confidence in his body's limits.

“Good.” He began to suck a hickey into a sweet spot right above where Kyubin's collar would reach. “Tell me about it. Was it torture?”

Kyubin thrust up into empty air again, barely gathering his thoughts. “No, I- Sometimes. When I couldn't sleep and imagined you were next to me.”

“If thinking about me made you feel so guilty, why didn't you fantasize about someone else?”

Kyubin snorted, finding that notion to be the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in his current state. “Do you really have to ask? It’s obvious I’d always end up thinking about you.”

Yoojung paused, his breath cooling the stinging burn he created on Kyubin's neck. “You don't even notice other men these days, do you?”

“That's right.” He rubbed his cheek on Yoojung’s head and breathed him in. “I don't care for any of them.”

Yoojung pressed his nose to Kyubin's skin and muttered, “You're so obsessed with me.”

“I know. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

It dawned on him with abrupt clarity how heavy the confession sounded when Yoojung stopped moving. Before he could laugh it off, he felt another kiss on his neck - softer, no more than a graze.

“Don’t say that,” Yoojung whispered. “You’d do just fine without me.”

Kyubin swallowed a wave of conflicting emotions. “Maybe. I don’t want to think about that.”

Yoojung finally settled on top of him, the weight of him comforting and crushing something inside that Kyubin couldn’t name.

He threaded his fingers through Yoojung's hair to keep him close to his chest. “Sorry, I ruined the mood.”

“It's okay.”

“Do you still want to…”

“I don't know.”

“Because of what I said?”

“No,” Yoojung said, the airiness of it keeping Kyubin in suspense about what really went on in his mind.

“How about we switch for a bit?” he suggested, anxious to keep Yoojung in the mood. “Lay down and I'll take your mind off things.”

“It’s fine, I just- I need a moment.” He began to roll off of Kyubin, then off the couch, his arms shooting out to safely carry him to the floor. He laid on his back with his eyes closed, hair scattered on the black rug like the beams of a blazing star. “So soft,” he muttered. “We should have a rug like this one at the studio and collapse onto it when we're too tired to stand.”

Kyubin’s palms braced where Yoojung’s head had rested and replicated the pressure, quickly hiding underneath his head before Yoojung noticed. “You can still go there now, if you want.”

Yoojung opened his eyes, his expression hard to decipher. “You know what would really liven up this place? If you hang up your own artwork.” He looked at Kyubin out of the corner of his eye. “That’s right, I'm pestering you about your art now.”

“I actually have been considering giving painting another shot,” Kyubin said, biting back another fervent confession about the reason for this sudden uptick in inspiration.

“So why aren't you doing it?”

Kyubin wondered about that as well. The urge to paint had visited him in adulthood on a few occasions, some instinct pulling his hand to trace the contours of emptiness and export the noise inside his mind into splatters on a canvas. Now, it was like a permanent throbbing in his fingertips, calling him to pick up a brush and render all these new feelings into a perceivable picture. Still, the half-faded glimpses of carefree afternoons before the innocent hobby was deemed futile felt untouchable in his memory.

“Back then, it was just play,” he replied. “If I do it now, I'll either be good at it or I won't. I think I'd rather not know which.”

Even though Yoojung's eyes were directed at the ceiling, Kyubin still felt himself being analyzed. “Just buy some paint and see what happens. Whatever you decide, I'll be cheering you on.”

“Really?” He rolled onto his stomach to have a better view. “I thought you'd try to persuade me to chase my true passion or something like that.”

Yoojung shrugged. “Making art isn't the answer to all problems. Sometimes it's just another problem on top of all the others.” He sent Kyubin a quick smile. “Don’t ask.”

Kyubin moved a strand of Yoojung's hair to its rightful side. “Do you not want to rant about it at all?”

Yoojung seemed to consider it, a small wrinkle between his brows. “I don't have to.”

“But you can.”

“I can,” Yoojung repeated flatly.

“Yes. And if you can, and maybe even want, who’s to say you don’t have to?”

One corner of Yoojung's mouth rose up. “You know your argument doesn't make any sense?”

“Maybe,” Kyubin said, studying the stretch of Yoojung's lips. “It was worth a try anyway.”

He counted fifty two ticks of the clock before Yoojung spoke up.

“I don't know what's wrong with me. I memorize the choreo, I synchronize with the music, but there's no feeling behind it. No story, no meaning. I keep hearing I'm not committed enough, I'm not this, I'm not that, but I fucking know all of it. And I shouldn't be lying on your floor and complaining when I've got so much to do, but here I am, proving them right.” He hid his face in the crook of his arm and sighed heavily. “They should just throw me out of the lineup. I honestly wouldn't blame them if they did.”

“There's a reason they haven't, right? They know you'll show them something great yet.”

“Yeah,” Yoojung said under his breath. “That's worse. Means they need me.”

“You're not failing them by being burnt out,” Kyubin assured him gently. “You can't control when that happens.”

“That's the thing though, this doesn't feel like a burnout. Not a regular one. It's more like I lost my sense of rhythm or something. I can perform, I just- I don't feel it. You ever felt like this? Like your body isn't entirely your own and someone else is pulling the strings?” He pressed his palms over his eyes and groaned. “Ah, forget it, don’t bother trying to understand all that.”

“No, I think I get it. It’s like… like sometimes when I feel I’m not the one holding the steering wheel. I’m in the driver’s seat, but there’s someone next to me who keeps trying to rip the wheel from my hands, and we struggle back and forth until we crash into a tree. Sorry, that's- that's not helpful at all.”

Yoojung moved his hands away from his face. “It is, though. Of all the people in this city, I’m laying on the floor of someone who gets whatever bullshit comes out of my mouth.”

“I could do more for you,” Kyubin suggested, not wanting to settle for the bare minimum. “Can I?”

“Unless you can pull me apart and take out everything that isn't me, no,” Yoojung said, his monotone voice only highlighting the frustration he felt with himself.

The impulse to alienate oneself from their body was familiar to Kyubin, and it was hard to believe that a body capable of creating a masterpiece shared this odd state of being. It made him want to study Yoojung until he stopped feeling like a separate entity, but an extension, an organ, a vital part.

He joined him on the floor and hesitated for only a second before placing his hand on Yoojung's chest, somehow still finding it hard to believe that he could just feel this man's heartbeat anytime he liked. “I'm afraid I can only reach what's on the surface.”

Yoojung’s heart drummed fiercely under his palm, the rest of him quiet. “We tried it already, didn’t we? And I can’t get in that mood right now.”

“You mean you can’t get aroused?”

“I can’t be at a hundred.”

He didn't look at Kyubin when he said it, and Kyubin didn't believe that constantly striving to be impressive didn't tire him out on some level.

“If being at a hundred is taking more effort than usual, you should relax,” he said, massaging Yoojung's chest. “Let me do something for you. It’s the least I can do to thank you for that night.”

Yoojung finally looked right at him. “Why do you keep trying to prove yourself?”

Kyubin hesitated, somehow feeling that his answer wouldn’t match the one Yoojung already had in mind. “Because I know I haven't been reliable in this regard, and I want to be.”

“Do you?” Yoojung’s fingers brushed his temple before combing through his hair, soft and comforting. “I know men like you, Kyubin. I know it's hard to enjoy yourself with no shame when you're so used to being whatever others expect you to be. Nobody ever showed you you're allowed to just let go and be free.” His finger trailed down Kyubin's neck, catching on the top button. “If I got my hands on the steering wheel, I’d drive this gorgeous car of yours properly.”

Kyubin raised his brows. “Do you have a driver's license?”

“No, but I’ll gladly get inside you while you’re parked and handle you so well that you'll need a power wash once I'm done.” He watched Kyubin laugh with a tiny smile on his face. “I'm serious. You don't even know how good it can be when the pressure is gone and the only thing you have to do is feel everything I want you to feel.” There was a dreamy look on his face, his voice lazy, slurring. “I wanna see you like that so bad. Overstimulated, mindlessly chasing your own pleasure, unable to hide anything from me. Doesn't that sound like the most fun you've ever had?”

The power those words had over Kyubin’s body was undeniable, and he almost gave into the promise of what dizzying pleasures leaving himself to Yoojung’s whims would bring. If only he could be sure it wouldn't take a massive amount of work to get him to that point, he might've even welcomed it with unconcealed joy. But whoever the men in Yoojung's memory were and whatever shame held them back, Kyubin wasn't one of them. He had an unpaid debt of gratitude, and regardless of what Yoojung thought about it, he did have something to prove - not just to him, but to himself. He had to know if he could take on an active role and not screw it up spectacularly.

“It does,” he said with unprecedented calmness. “And I want that, but you can't take care of me every time. Especially after the month you've had. Tonight, I'm taking care of you.”

He could see the uncertainty in Yoojung's exhausted eyes - the temptation to give in, the stubbornness to stick to his ways - but it didn't do much to ease the want, the need to do something about having him there, his back against the floor, so close, so warm, so vibrant.

He leaned down to kiss Yoojung's arm right by the sleeve of his T-shirt and heard a soft sigh.

“Maybe you’re right,” Yoojung muttered. “I haven’t got the energy for that. Messing around on the floor sounds… not bad.”

Kyubin braced himself on his forearm by Yoojung’s head, holding his wary gaze as he placed the other one on the other side and propped himself up above him, faces close, the rest of their bodies at a small distance.

He'd seen Yoojung under him in his thoughts before, where he could pretend every assured action of his brought Yoojung immense pleasure. Somehow, he could feel it now - something bold yet gentle telling his knee to push Yoojung’s legs apart, guiding his hand to Yoojung’s back where his thumb dared to lift the hem and brush his bare skin.

There was something precarious about how Yoojung arched his back in response, the set of his eyebrows tense. “You don’t look nervous,” he whispered.

Kyubin kissed his forehead, and Yoojung's eyelids fluttered before falling shut. “I can't say I'm not, but it's a good kind of nervous. Don't worry about it.”

His lips roamed Yoojung's face with no destination in mind, everything inside him quiet and restrained. The lack of impatience in Yoojung's body language was exactly what he needed to ease into this. His hand moved up Yoojung’s spine to draw him closer, letting air touch his skin, a prelude to the touch he was slowly growing eager to offer.

There was no exact moment when he felt Yoojung relax; at some point, he just noticed him breathing deeper, clutching Kyubin not with caution, but with the intention to have him closer. Beneath the pounding heartbeats and noises made by his mouth, his ears picked up on the smallest sounds coming from Yoojung, the most pleasing stimulation they’ve ever known. He could feel his composure fading rapidly, but it could only be attributed to the fervor overtaking every part of him.

He took off his tie and shirt before Yoojung could beat him to it, enjoying the dark gaze watching him and the instant response of Yoojung's hands. While the left didn't shy away from touching where it liked most, he kept the right one close to himself, pushing his T-shirt further up his chest. The gesture looked involuntary, like his body knew it wanted Kyubin's attention there before he did, and Kyubin didn't waste any time before giving it to him.

The muscles around Yoojung's midriff felt a bit harder, indicative of the long hours spent in the studio and the core strength it required. It only added to his longing to offer Yoojung relief from all the toil, so he kept moving lower until his hand reached the front of Yoojung's jeans.

He could see Yoojung’s fingers try to grasp onto the rug before balling into fists and relaxing again, his breaths coming in and out with shorter intervals. He brushed the fly in Yoojung's jeans with his thumb, and the catch in Yoojung's breath only added to the stimuli that made sound a physical sensation shooting down his body. His mouth was already watering at the thought, but he told himself to stay calm and methodical. With half of his focus on ensuring his throat was relaxed, he opened Yoojung's fly and spat onto his hand generously.

Yoojung groaned and pressed his hands over his eyes as if everything would be over if he continued looking, his sighs growing louder in anticipation.

Kyubin shifted up to kiss him when he breached the boundary of his waistband, comfortably taking him in his hand and setting a slow pace, not allowing himself to get too excited. The way Yoojung kissed back in a messy onslaught of tongue and teeth was ravenous, and his hips encouraged a frantic tempo which almost made Kyubin give in and get lost in the rush of having him under himself like this, every twitch of his body giving him the praise he'd been craving. Although it took some effort, he managed to pull himself back to his senses and keep his movements unhurried. To prevent Yoojung from tiring himself out or pulling a muscle, he pinned his thighs down with one leg and tightened his grip a little.

Something in Yoojung mellowed in response. The eager self-indulgence of his hands and lips started to feel tender, and the lifting of his hips welcomed the rhythm set by Kyubin with the ease of someone who trusted the hands he was in. He didn’t seem to mind that the spit on Kyubin's palm had dried out, too enthralled by the embrace they found themselves in to care about anything else, and Kyubin was hit by a wave of need and affection as he pressed even closer, grinding against Yoojung's hip, completely tuned into the quiet affirmations that he was giving Yoojung something good. Every sound and every twitch filled him with gentle conviction that his body wasn't at odds with his will by nature; it was an instrument that could be played to rearrange the discordant parts of Yoojung into a harmonious art piece.

This felt like the right time. He wet his lips impatiently, gathering saliva as his hand sped up impulsively, his nose pressed to Yoojung’s neck to soak up everything that made him hunger for the taste of this man’s satisfaction on his tongue.

But then Yoojung tensed beneath him, his chest charged with a breath which he released with a soft groan, everything rigid about him going lax. Something warm and wet gathered on Kyubin's fingers, and the recognition hit him like a shock of electricity.

He stared at the serene expression on Yoojung's face as he caught his breath, and even though his fingers were doused in the answer, he had to ask, “Did you just-”

Yoojung's eyes were dazed when he looked at him, but then something in them came into focus. His face stiffened and he pushed Kyubin off so he could sit up, straightening his shirt and scrambling off the floor. “I, uh. Bathroom.”

“Do you need anything?” Kyubin asked gently, conscious of his embarrassment enough not to break out into a wide smile. “A towel or something to change into?”

“I'm fine,” Yoojung muttered, holding his pants up with one hand as he hurried out of the room.

Kyubin’s pulse hammered in sync with the steps rushing down the hall, and it took him a second to register that the trembling in his chest was pure joy threatening to break out. He muffled his laughter with the back of his hand, raising the other one up to admire the proof of his achievement, the best thing his hands ever did. He closed his eyes and put his fingers to his lips, savoring the scent, reveling in the flavor, the ache between his legs almost unbearable, but so, so gratifying.

He heard Yoojung exit the bathroom, followed by the sound of kitchen cabinets being opened and closed. After a deep breath to cool down and adjusting his erection in his pants, he headed toward Yoojung, his shirt forgotten on the floor.

He found him filling a glass under the tap with his hair damp like he'd splashed water on himself and the tag by his T-shirt’s neckline still sticking out. With the essence of him lingering on Kyubin's tongue, his presence appeared more vivid, lustrous against the backdrop of everyday routine, all summer hues and honey glow. It would've been easy to ride the wave of this drunk-like audacity and reach satisfaction then and there.

But however dreamlike the scene felt with this wonderful, alluring, breathtaking man casually drinking water in his kitchen after cumming in his hand, his reserved body language prompted some concern.

“Are you okay?” Kyubin asked, taking the temperature of the situation.

Yoojung took a big gulp before saying, “Fine.” His tone negated the meaning of that word, and Kyubin did his best to hold back a fond smile.

“I’m sorry that it was so short,” he said, voice raspy and scarcely apologetic.

Yoojung looked at him with wide eyes, holding the water in his cheeks before swallowing audibly. “How is that your fault?”

“It’s not anyone's fault. It's just that if I noticed you were close, I would've made sure you don't want me to slow down. But it helped you blow off some steam, right?”

Yoojung nodded and finished the drink in silence, not once turning his head so it didn't face the wall.

Once he put the glass down, Kyubin went up behind him and put his hands on his hips, his chin finding a comfortable spot in the crook of Yoojung's neck. “I liked it, you know. All of it. Just in case that's what you're worried about.”

“I’m not worried about anything,” Yoojung said quietly.

“That's good.” His thumb sneaked under Yoojung's shirt, keen to remove it. “Would you like to come to bed now? We don't have to do anything if you're too tired, but tomorrow, we- maybe we could start the day with me going down on you?”

He could feel the stiffness in the muscle his chin was resting on as Yoojung gripped the edge of the sink, an easily identifiable sign that he was overthinking this. In a subtle gesture of reassurance, Kyubin nuzzled his nape, unwittingly brushing a yet undiscovered ticklish spot which caused Yoojung to curl his shoulder toward his ear.

“Why are you being like this?” he asked with an uncomfortable laugh, slipping out of the thin gap between Kyubin and the counter.

“Like what?”

“Like-” He glanced around as if the answer was written on the walls. “I don’t know. Like not you?”

“I take that as a compliment,” Kyubin joked, but the incredulous look he got in response made him realize they were not on the same wavelength. “I know I’m being forward, but it's still up to you what happens. I just wanted to put it out there, what I want to happen. Is that wrong?”

“It's not wrong,” Yoojung said quietly, his feet shuffling in place. “I just, uh. I feel really shitty about skipping practice, so I should probably go.”

“Yeah, of course. Would you like a snack before or something more solid to eat?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” He took half a step forward, then wavered, looking at Kyubin expectantly. “Can you, like-”

It took Kyubin a solid second to realize Yoojung was waiting for him to step out of the way. It wasn't like he’d been blocking the door - Yoojung could've easily walked around him if he chose, but it was getting increasingly obvious he was trying to avoid physical proximity at all costs.

His stomach twisted when it dawned on him the reason Yoojung wanted to leave wasn't because he'd regained his creative drive. It chilled him to think he misread a sign along the way and did something he shouldn't have, but trying to pinpoint at which moment his touch might’ve felt wrong only affirmed his certainty that Yoojung enjoyed it. At no point had it felt ambiguous. Something changed for him in the aftermath, but Kyubin knew asking about it wouldn’t achieve anything save for upsetting him further.

He moved out of the way to let Yoojung through, feeling a sting at how swiftly Yoojung got past him to retrieve his shoes from the living room. That made it all the more confusing when he began to scrupulously tie the laces into a double knot, his hands moving slowly and yet with an erratic quiver to them, his real state slipping through the cracks.

After tying them up with only one fumbled try, he turned to the mirror to fix his hair, but his hands halted mid-air. “Shit,” he said under his breath and grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, trying to hide in the shadowed corner to take it off and quickly turn it over.

Kyubin averted his eyes, anxiously seeking something he could do or say to put Yoojung at ease. All the buzz in his body was in conflict with this unnerving atmosphere, and he was tired of leaving things awkward between them.

When Yoojung’s T-shirt was donned correctly, Kyubin walked over to the coat rack and grabbed a spare key that had been hanging on the same hook ever since he moved in.

“Here, just- take this.” When all he got was a baffled stare, he explained, “You should be able to come here whenever you want to rest or refresh, even when you finish late or I'm at work. I want you to feel at home here.”

Yoojung stared at the key, then up at him, his expression stuck somewhere between enticed and uneasy. “Thanks,” he said slowly, “but it’s a little soon to be sharing keys to our places, don’t you think?”

“It’s just for convenience,” Kyubin lied. “You could save a lot of time by cutting out the drives to and from your place while you're working on the showcase. And then, you'll decide if you want to keep it for longer.”

Yoojung’s nostrils flared, but his voice was level and calm when he asked, “Can we not do this right now?”

The piece of metal in Kyubin's palm seemed to get heavier. “Just take it, please. It doesn't have to be a big deal.”

Something inside him lurched when Yoojung scoffed. “Is this what you’re gonna be like all the time? Pushing whatever fucking boundary I set down?”

“What? No, I-”

“Kyubin, I literally just found out you live around the corner from a place that's basically my second home, and now you're, like-” His hands formed a rapidly shrinking sphere until there was no void space between them. “Like, I don't know, maybe you think you can sweet-talk me into doing whatever you want, but that's not how this is gonna work!”

“I know,” Kyubin said in his softest voice. “I take it back. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Wow, where have I heard that before,” Yoojung muttered and crossed his arms over his chest, the exasperation partly dissipating. “It’s fine, you’re just- you’re being really intense for no reason.”

Perhaps if Kyubin hadn't been so fatigued, his body strained by sleep deprivation, career crisis and pent up sexual tension, he would've realized the best choice would be to let Yoojung cool off from whatever this was and give him as much space as he needed. But he saw himself reflected in Yoojung's discomfort, and there was only one thing he knew to work when Yoojung was in need of deep reassurance - and, perhaps selfishly so, Kyubin needed to immerse in it before Yoojung left him alone for the night.

So before Yoojung could take a step out the door, Kyubin surged forward until he had him enclosed within his arms, clinging to the solace of him, wishing every cell in his body could whisper that same feeling back to Yoojung. He could feel Yoojung shift in his arms, trying to slip away, so he just tightened his grip in response, impatient for the moment Yoojung's body remembered the peace it felt when he let the noise go quiet and embraced being embraced.

“Man, what the fuck!” Yoojung snapped before shoving him away for good. He ran his trembling hands through his hair, something wild and disoriented in his eyes beneath the rage. “Don't do shit like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyubin said in a hushed voice and took another step back, desperate not to aggravate Yoojung any further. “I didn't- I miscalculated. I mean, misunderstood. I'm sorry.”

Yoojung choked out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Save your apologies, you never fucking mean them anyway.”

The door slammed behind him, and Kyubin was left in silence.

“Right,” he whispered to the empty walls. “Great job. Great fucking job.”

Notes:

I don't like to end chapters on a sour note, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. The latter half is where a lot of the stuff I've been building up to is finally resolved and it will allow them to work on their relationship and also themselves individually. I hope I haven't exhausted your capacity for patience and you’ll wait for the second part as well!

For those interested, the songs were Sunshine by Onew and Roller Coaster by Jeong Sewoon.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of the light series