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"If there was, like, a worldwide contest for most disgusting couple then I'm pretty sure you two would win," Gyuvin says matter-of-factly.
"We're not disgusting," Zhang Hao denies as he spoons another mouthful of sponge cake into Hanbin's mouth. He kisses the swell of his indented cheek as Hanbin happily munches away, eyes crinkling at the corners. So cute.
Gyuvin's sigh is aggrieved. His muffin sits sadly on his plate, looking very deflated. "Guys, seriously."
“Okay, okay, sorry.” He's not very sorry at all but so long as he sounds genuine then that's enough to appease Gyuvin. He brushes a thumb over Hanbin's dimple one last time before settling back into the booth. “Anyway, I'm sure that's not true. We're not that bad, all things considered.”
No one mentions that Hanbin has now manoeuvred Zhang Hao's legs into his lap so that he's practically sitting half on top of him, nor the fact that they've been taking turns feeding each other one slice of cake for the past twenty minutes because they keep getting sidetracked with kisses, nor how the cup of mango bubble tea between them has two straws poking out of it.
“We would win, hyung,” Hanbin says seriously. He looks like he does before his dance showcases, all determined and fiery, as if this contest is actually real. “You know it.”
He does. “What would be the prize?”
“Bragging rights,” Hanbin suggests after a second.
He kisses Hanbin's forehead. “I'm happy with that.” He bites at his neck playfully. “And my true prize is right here.”
“Hyung,” he laughs, face flushing. He makes a pretence of pushing Zhang Hao away, though anyone can see he's gripping at Zhang Hao's shoulders to keep him there.
Gyuvin clears his throat and they right themselves reluctantly.
“I'm not sure it's something to brag about,” he grumbles, repeatedly poking his straw into his lonely cup. “I feel like you two have been even more unbearable lately. Do I hear wedding bells ringing in the distance or something?”
A frown mars Hanbin's face. “You shouldn't joke about that, Gyuvin.” He swipes a smear of cream off the corner of Zhang Hao's mouth with his thumb and pops it into his own mouth to lick clean. “Besides, by that logic they've been ringing since the day we met.”
“They have,” Zhang Hao says dreamily. Hanbin turns to him then, eyes bright and a smile blooming prettily on his face. Zhang Hao reels him in with his fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt.
The fork clatters as it lands on the plate, in time with Gyuvin's squawk. Hanbin tastes like a golden mix of mango and desire.
They're known to their shared circle of friends as Hao-and-Hanbin, always referred to as a pair. They both like it a little too much. They can't help playing into it either, even with outsiders. He's not totally sure if he can designate it as an intentional move on either of their parts — the replacement of I with we in their lexicon came naturally.
Recently, they'd been lounging in one of the food hall's booths while passing time between classes. Hanbin had been neatly tucked under his arm while Zhang Hao did his readings for the week. Of course, he likes everything about Hanbin but one of the things he treasures most is how easy it is to merely exist with him. He has to make an effort with other people, remembering to inject humour into their conversations or hum in distracted sympathy whenever they rant about their relationship problems, but with Hanbin all he has to do is just be. He expects nothing of him; it's refreshing after so many years of cultivating a persona of perfection.
One of Hanbin's classmates had found them there and engaged Hanbin in conversation about the teaching methods of one of their lecturers. Zhang Hao had absently listened to them talking, Hanbin's thumb stroking his thigh all the while. It reached the point where his classmate had taken the opportunity to invite Hanbin to a night of clubbing with some of their cohort.
“Thanks but we're going to have to pass,” Hanbin had said, polite smile pasted on his face. “We're not a huge fan of clubs nowadays.”
He bypassed the fact that Zhang Hao hadn't been included in the invitation at all. Hanbin's conversation partner looked like he wanted to point that out but wisely moved on.
They came as a package deal, it was as simple as that.
For a gag gift last year, Matthew had gifted them a pair of if lost, return to owner shirts. “Just so you know,” he'd told them, “these aren't actually meant to be worn in public. Please don't embarrass yourselves.”
They'd taken that as a challenge. Matthew had blanched when he'd seen them, as if he'd actually expected them to not deck themselves out in matching apparel. Even better when it's as conspicuous as those shirts.
All anyone had said to their faces was Ricky's resigned, “You two are so cringe.”
They shrugged. What was the point of belonging to each other if they couldn't show that off?
“Do I have something on my face?” he wonders aloud as he, Hanbin, and Ricky wander around the second floor of the mall. “People keep side-eyeing me as they walk past.”
Hanbin tugs on his hand to pull him to a halt outside MAC and inspects him, turning his head this way and that. He's afforded more scrutiny than he thinks is strictly necessary, but when is he ever going to kick up a fuss about having Hanbin's hands on his face and smiling at him like that? He concludes his investigation with, “Gege looks as beautiful as ever to me.”
Zhang Hao thanks him with a squeeze of his waist. He jokes, “Is that why they’re staring?”
Next to them, Ricky rolls his eyes in the long-suffering way he’s perfected. “Dude, it's because you literally look like you've been mauled. They're probably wondering why they haven't heard anything in the news about the latest zoo escapee.”
“Ouch,” Hanbin says, though he looks more amused than anything. “Thank you, Ricky.”
“Sorry but it's true. I think an old lady almost fainted when we were outside Gucci.”
The MAC store greets them with its twinkling lights and sleek, gothic interior. Ricky immediately makes a beeline for the shelves of lipstick. Opposite him are the rows of mascara and eyeliner with circular mirrors peeking out overhead, which is Zhang Hao’s destination. Hanbin shadows his steps.
The artificial light throws the mottled bruises on his neck into stark relief. They hadn't looked this bad in the mirror at home. “Oops. I didn't realise it was this obvious.”
“Maybe you can cover it up,” Ricky suggests as he peruses the offerings. He gestures at their surroundings. “You're in the perfect place for it.”
“Why would we want to cover them up?” Hanbin asks breezily from behind him. “I think they suit gege very well.”
He's sticking so close to Zhang Hao he can feel his body heat. The pads of his fingers brush over the bruises and leave a tingling in their wake, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Possessiveness looks unfairly good on Hanbin, as does everything else.
“Of course you would,” Ricky says snidely. “You two are like a positive feedback loop of public indecency.”
“Hickeys are hardly public indecency,” Zhang Hao argues, though when Hanbin is looking at him like he is now he might be inclined to agree with Ricky's point.
“Positive feedback loop of insanity, then,” Ricky amends, stooping to examine himself in a different mirror. “Whatever it is, you two encourage each other.”
“If you say so, Ricky-yah,” Zhang Hao says, in that mildly condescending tone he knows Ricky hates. Sure enough, Ricky throws him a look and drifts further down the aisle.
“Positive feedback loop of insanity,” Hanbin muses. His hands have dropped to Zhang Hao's waist. “What do you think?”
Zhang Hao's mouth helplessly twists up into a smile. “I think you're a bad influence.”
Hanbin gasps in faux-shock. “On you? Surely not.” He takes a half-step closer so they're pressed together, arms winding around Zhang Hao's waist. “Sometimes I think gege is even worse than me.”
“No comment.” He juts his chin forward. “But these were your idea.”
An idea that Zhang Hao had very enthusiastically agreed to, but the principle is there.
“But gege is just so pretty,” Hanbin murmurs into his neck, low enough that Ricky can't hear, “that everyone else deserves to know that they can look but they can't touch.”
The words, combined with Hanbin's mouth latching onto his neck to work on darkening one of the bruises, most likely do cross the boundaries of public decency. Watching Hanbin do this to him in the mirror is too intimate for a cosmetics store, so he squeezes his eyes shut.
When Hanbin jolts against him, he doesn't need to open his eyes to confirm that Ricky has thrown a tube of lipstick at his shoulder. There's a huff against his neck.
The fluorescents burn into his vision. “No throwing things at Bingbing,” he reprimands in Chinese, bending to pick the lipstick up. His neck stings. Maybe once the soreness starts to fade he can get Hanbin to massage his neck later, summon the ache back as a reminder.
Ricky glares at them as he straightens. “Like I said. Public indecency.”
Thursdays are the one day of the week where their schedules don't align for lunch. In retribution, he spams Hanbin with emojis while he and Kuanjui queue to grab a bowl of soup at the counter. He used to spam him with actual messages instead before he realised he was disrupting Hanbin's education: in one of his texts, he'd implied that Hanbin leaving him unguarded like this left him vulnerable for another man to steal away. Hanbin had ditched his lecture to run to him and arrived in the food hall three minutes later, red-faced and winded. It's a fond memory but Zhang Hao isn't a terrible boyfriend; unfortunately for both of them, their degrees hold a modicum of importance in their lives.
With that said, a little texting never hurt anybody.
bingbing 🍑💘
pic?
plssssss 🥺🥺🥺
me
hmm
…
bingbing 🍑💘
please
i'll die if i don't see your face
it's terminal
Zhang Hao takes pity on him. He hastily snaps a picture of himself, not bothering to remove either his mask or their cat-eared beanie. Hanbin will find him cute anyway.
Predictably, Hanbin immediately replies with a slew of exclamations about how pretty he is and gives him a taste of his own medicine with the emoji-spamming. He grins as he scrolls through.
me
now you
Hanbin complies and sends him a sneakily-taken selfie of him in class, hood pulled up over his head. He's pulled down his mask under his chin so that Zhang Hao can see the soft smile reserved exclusively for him. His heart beats triple-time. He clutches his phone to his chest.
"Ahhh,” he wails, falling into Kuanjui. The only reason they don't both crash to the floor is because Kuanjui's control over his centre of gravity is absolutely impeccable. “Kuanjui, he's so cute.”
Kuanjui just sighs and pushes him away none too gently as Zhang Hao gets busy gushing to Hanbin and sending him every heart emoji possible.
“I've never felt so single in my life until you two got together,” Kuanjui remarks. “He's not even here but I still feel like I'm third-wheeling.”
“Sorry,” Zhang Hao apologises half-heartedly, slipping his phone back into his pocket after one final emoji. “I just miss him.”
Kuanjui cuts him a judgemental look. “You saw him two hours ago. He literally walked you to class and very passionately made out with you outside the lecture hall for, like, five minutes. I think you might've traumatised some first-years.”
“It was a peck on the lips,” Zhang Hao argues. “Not a make-out session.” The line shuffles forward. “And so what? I'm not allowed to miss him because of that?”
“It just seems like a lot,” he placates. Zhang Hao braces himself; this is a conversation they've had too many times. “The whole Cathy-and-Heathcliff, there is no me without you thing. You don’t even spend any time apart.”
Zhang Hao bristles at his tone. “Of course we do, what are we doing right now? We're on different courses, you know that. A lot of the time we only see each other at lunch or when we get home at the end of the day.”
“Right,” Kuanjui sighs. “And then when you are home both of you just stay locked up in your apartment until the next day. Or over the entire weekend. I miss when the two of us actually, like, went out and did stuff together.”
“I've always been a homebody,” Zhang Hao says reasonably. “And now Hanbin is too. We just like spending time together, what's wrong with that?” He pauses and adds, “Besides, if you want to invite us out somewhere then we'll come. Like you already do.”
Kuanjui groans and rests his head in his hands for a moment before straightening up. “Haohao. Do you think I don't already do enough third-wheeling?” Before Zhang Hao can say something nonsensical in response to that like it's not third-wheeling if we're only one person, Kuanjui shakes his head and gazes past him at the students milling about. He mutters almost absently, "Well, in any case, I'm glad that you're a lot happier now."
They met in the middle of Zhang Hao's third year. Whenever they recount this story to family or new acquaintances, both of them always say it was love at first sight. That's not quite right but he thinks it's what's most palatable — he couldn't exactly tell his mother that he took one look at Hanbin and immediately rearranged the rest of his life around him, as if emerging from a twenty-year long dream. She doesn't need to be privy to how Zhang Hao only feels like a living, breathing person because he has Hanbin by his side now.
Before Hanbin, Zhang Hao had never wanted something so much in his life. He thought he did: he always liked to set himself goals throughout his life. Study hard enough to absolutely ace the CSAT, get into a top university in Korea in his degree of choice, learn the violin on the side because why not, pad out his résumé with dancing and swimming and internships and clubs. He wanted all of these things voraciously, soaking up achievements and hobbies and hoping they would fill the hole in his heart. Despite the accomplishments he racked up, he could still tell something was missing. It was as if he was sleepwalking through life. His previous foray into relationships was mere box-ticking, men who were waiting for him to want them as much as they wanted him. A pointless endeavour, really.
And then he'd met Hanbin, his perfect Hanbin with his beautiful smile who'd bulldozed his way into Zhang Hao's life without a care in the world. Matthew had been the one to introduce them — something which he half-jokingly claims he regrets now — at one of his parties: hyung, this is Sung Hanbin. Bin, remember I was telling you about Zhang Hao? Hanbin's eyes had dragged down Zhang Hao's face, his chest, his legs, and back up again. He'd murmured I remember, a quiet reverence in his voice, and Zhang Hao's stomach had twisted, like a fish hook reeling him back into existence. Meeting Hanbin felt like rebirth.
Hanbin was intent on ruining him for anyone else, as he would come to find out, but Zhang Hao privately thought he never needed to try. He was gone for Hanbin the moment they locked eyes. There's a lot of words for that kind of feeling: soulmates, twin flames, his other half. None of them quite fit, quite measure up to the explosion of love Zhang Hao feels whenever Hanbin sends him a hushed voice message recorded in one of his classes or feeds him braised beef from his chopsticks with an overfocused gaze, but that's okay. They can be something entirely new; they both like the idea of harbouring a love so special that no words exist for it.
It didn't take long for him to completely replace his hobbies with Hanbin. Sure, he still dances with Hanbin when they both have the time for it. He keeps on top of his grades and internship applications because he wants them to earn enough money that Hanbin can follow his dancing dreams and not have to worry about finances. He drags out his violin whenever Hanbin asks to hear him play in that sweet, amiable way of his. But Hanbin has completely eclipsed everything else in his life. Everything circles back to him.
They moved quickly because why wouldn't they? It was like nothing he'd ever felt before — he couldn't understand why he should deprive himself of the pleasant ache in his chest and fizzing in his veins, so he didn't. Their first date, meant to be a simple conversation over dinner in a Chinese restaurant that suited their budgets, ended up lasting three days. The time flashed by in the blink of an eye.
He was only twenty when they met, far too young to be thinking about a lifetime of love and honeymoon destinations and growing old together by the sea. More goals to reach one day, with Hanbin at his side in all of them. Calling them goals feels like a disservice, if he’s being honest, a crude comparison of who he was before Hanbin and after Hanbin. These are simply—reminders of his future, fixed in stone rather than sand. Nothing would change in regard to their life together and what Zhang Hao would do to make him happy.
Hanbin was even younger but he didn't care either. One night, after Hanbin had flicked the bedside lamp off and they entwined their limbs and synced up their breathing and their hearts, Hanbin had abruptly whispered I'm going to marry you, gege. He didn't even ask. They both knew the real proposal would come later when they could afford the honeymoon of their dreams; this was simply a statement of fact. A foregone conclusion. Zhang Hao had only swallowed around the lump in his throat, kissed his hair, and replied good. There was nothing more that needed to be said.
Kuanjui hadn't been entirely correct. It's not like they don't go out together. On weekends Hanbin coaxes him awake with kisses and sweet nothings, taking Zhang Hao’s grumbling in stride. They escort Nabi out for her daily walk around the neighbourhood and make a final stop in the park, where Hanbin buys them breakfast from the hotteok stall and they take turns diligently feeding each other on their favoured bench. Nabi bounds around and plays in the piles of leaves. If it's particularly cold outside then Hanbin will trap Zhang Hao's gloved hands between his for warmth, adjust his scarf for him, tuck his hat over the tips of his ears. He's perfectly doted on; he can't get enough of it.
“Is gege cold?” Hanbin will still ask anxiously, fussing with the fit of his wool-lined coat.
“Of course not,” Zhang Hao always coos. “How can I be when my Hanbinie is right here keeping me warm?”
Hanbin's mouth is sticky with sugar when they kiss.
They always do their grocery shopping on Saturdays too, Hanbin dutifully carrying their basket while Zhang Hao checks items off their list and mulls over the deals.
“Which one?” he asks Hanbin, holding up two packs of corn chips in question.
Hanbin's chin digs into his shoulder, warm against Zhang Hao's back. Zhang Hao relaxes into him. “Which one does gege think would be better?”
Even he’ll admit that they can be absurd sometimes. Speaking for the sake of hearing the other's voice, glued together in the middle of a busy aisle with other shoppers skirting around them. But having Hanbin all to himself feels so good, why would he want to opt for restraint?
“That's why I'm asking you,” he points out fondly. “Because I can't decide.”
“So both,” Hanbin says decisively. He peppers kisses all over the left side of his face, grinning when Zhang Hao squirms and laughs in his arms.
A woman with her baby strapped to her chest tuts loudly as she passes them. Zhang Hao ignores her but Hanbin draws back in annoyance. Zhang Hao catches his mouth again to distract him.
“She's just jealous, baby,” he murmurs. “Don't worry about it.”
Hanbin pays and carries their shopping out to the car while Zhang Hao clings to the crook of his arm, sneakily admiring the slight swell of muscle as he ghosts his hand higher. They pack their groceries inside, hips bumping teasingly as clouds roll above them.
Hanbin opens the passenger door for him then reaches over him to buckle his seat belt, smiling when Zhang Hao thanks him with a peck. He intermittently leans over to steal kisses at red lights as they drive home, all so he can see that smile again.
Thoughts of doing anything else with his time, of hanging out with Kuanjui or holding a study session with Taerae, don’t cross his mind. He’s always happiest when he’s with Hanbin. It's a fact of the universe: the sky is blue, water is wet, Zhang Hao wants to be with Hanbin all the time.
“Hmm,” Hanbin says, light and lilting as his thumb brushes over the swell of Zhang Hao’s cheek. “What is gege thinking about?”
“You,” he says honestly, and turns his head to nip at Hanbin's thumb.
Hanbin tugs his bottom lip down, thumb pressed into the soft inside as he reveals his bottom row of teeth. Zhang Hao closes his mouth around his thumb, eyelids lowering as he makes eye contact with a stunned Hanbin. His tongue flicks across the pad playfully.
He has to remind him the light's turned green.
On days where their assignments can be kicked to the wayside, like today, they’ll also make their way to campus and hole up in one of the practice rooms Hanbin's booked for them. This is becoming more of a rarity as the year progresses: usually they simply go to the gym together, waking up early enough that Zhang Hao is too tired to put more than minimum effort into his treadmill workout and uses the time to ogle Hanbin instead. It’s always welcome when he transitions into his squat routine and feels a familiar pair of eyes burning holes through his sweatpants.
“Walk me through it?” he asks as he searches through his saved videos. He purposefully speaks a little softer than usual, vowels rounding sweetly in his mouth. The choreo isn’t difficult at all but he likes having Hanbin teach him, having Hanbin's hands skating down his sides and arranging his limbs how he sees fit. Being molded into the perfect student. Hanbin likes it too, although their progress is often hindered by Zhang Hao having to bat away wandering hands. Sometimes he ends up giving in, like that time Hanbin begged to eat him out right on the practice room floor, but sometimes he just wants to learn a cute pair dance with his boyfriend.
“Okay,” Hanbin announces grandly when Zhang Hao finishes showing him the Douyin clip. His arm slides off of Zhang Hao's shoulder. “This will be a piece of cake for you, baby.”
They begin to stretch next to each other, Hanbin leading him through their warm-up. His eyes stay locked on Zhang Hao’s form in the mirror. Zhang Hao has always liked attention, no matter who it’s from, but Hanbin’s attention is a whole new level of intoxicating. He no longer cares about shining head and shoulders above his peers or flitting from teacher to teacher for approval; so long as his one-man audience is watching him, then he doesn’t need anything else.
As predicted, the choreo is simple to pick up. The dance mainly consists of them dancing side by side and gesturing at each other, as is the norm for couple challenges, but Hanbin still finds a way to brush his hands over Zhang Hao's hips and shoulders under the illusion of correcting his positioning. He indulges him, as he always does. And if he deliberately makes mistakes solely for that reason, well, that's a secret he's happy to keep. Assuming that Hanbin doesn't see right through him, of course.
They film themselves after thirty minutes or so, phone set up on the vinyl flooring in front of them. They have to keep shooting retakes as they keep teasing each other, Hanbin reaching out to snap the waistband of his sweatpants lightning-quick or Zhang Hao patting him on the head. The dancing is, somewhat inevitably, put on the back burner as they fall about laughing.
Eventually, once the challenge has been filmed without a hitch, Zhang Hao grabs his phone to confirm. Hanbin sidles up behind him to watch from his vantage point on Zhang Hao's shoulder. He finds himself admiring how perfectly in sync they are, how easily they match each other's energy and dancing styles. True, the dance isn't anything especially difficult, but he has a feeling no one else would be able to complement either of them so effortlessly.
An interruption arrives before they're halfway through. There's the sound of the door unlocking as the correct passcode is entered before it swings open. Their heads lift. There's another student standing there who looks very surprised to see them in here. Hanbin makes no move to unstick himself from Zhang Hao.
“Oh, sorry,” the stranger says, frowning as he checks the time on his phone. “Me and my friends have this room booked for three o'clock?”
“We booked this room last week,” Hanbin says, clipped. “From two to four. There was probably a mix-up with the system.”
His voice sounds cold to Zhang Hao's ears but he always sounds like that when he's talking to someone other than him; he thinks it's likely that he's simply getting whiplash from the way Hanbin exclusively speaks to him in either soft croons or playful teasing.
“Oh,” he repeats, already typing on his phone. “Okay, we'll work something out. Sorry to bother you.”
The door clicks after him. They turn their attention back to the looping video.
“Gege is so cute here,” Hanbin says as he points at the screen, tone melting back into fondness. They watch as Zhang Hao catches himself on a stumble and a sheepish smile is directed at the camera. The next move brings a flash of his stomach as his shirt jumps up. For barely a second, but Hanbin quietens behind him. They watch in silence as the video ends and Zhang Hao pauses it before it can loop again.
Anticipation crawls up his spine. “Should I post it on Instagram?”
“No,” Hanbin says immediately. There's something hard lurking in his voice, a solid wall which Zhang Hao can drive his knuckles into. “I don't want anyone else to see it.”
Zhang Hao's toes curl in his shoes. “Okay,” he agrees too quickly, breathlessly. “I'll just send it to you.”
“Perfect,” Hanbin replies, pleased. He turns Zhang Hao's head and rewards him with a deep, open-mouthed kiss. His hand has snuck up underneath Zhang Hao's shirt and stamped itself right where his shirt rode up previously, as hot as a brand. He presses a wet kiss to his jaw, the barest hint of teeth making Zhang Hao's breath hitch. “Were there any other dances hyung was interested in?”
“Let me think,” he says, and turns fully in Hanbin's arms.
To tell the truth, he knows it's unhealthy. It would be difficult to deny it, not when he's been flat-out told to his face by multiple people that their relationship is cause for concern. He hates thinking about that — he knows their friends mean well but how can they not see how happy Hanbin makes him, how Hanbin's presence has completely broken him out of his cocoon? It would be more concerning if they weren't like this, if they were a quote-unquote normal couple instead. If Hanbin didn't completely tune out of conversations he was having with Matthew while watching Zhang Hao order across the dining hall, if Zhang Hao didn't stick out his leg to trip up a dance major that had been rude to Hanbin in his first year and walk away without a second glance. He thinks about it, occasionally, how they would blend into the other couples he sees on campus. Chaste kisses exchanged on the quad, silently scrolling through their phones while sitting out in the sun, casual goodbyes with no lingering glances thrown over shoulders or delays caused by extra kisses.
He can't fathom being like that with Hanbin. He doesn't want to. What he does want is what he already has: Hanbin desperately, artlessly, monstrously in love with him. Locks of hair treasured in a velvet-lined gift box that Zhang Hao unearthed from the recesses of their closet before promptly returning it to its hiding place. Allegedly accidental shoves of any stranger who looks at Zhang Hao the wrong way. Hanbin coming in his pants the first time they made out, right up against Zhang Hao’s front door, Zhang Hao’s body being helplessly shunted up the wood while Hanbin kissed him like he thought he could devour him if he tried hard enough, his grip repeatedly strengthening and loosening like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to treat Zhang Hao like he was a porcelain doll about to crack or bruise him up for everyone to know, even with their eyes uncomfortably averted, that he belonged to someone who took his role in Zhang Hao's life very seriously.
Most people would run screaming. Most people would tell Hanbin he needed to get help. Most people wouldn't tend to that bud of intensity like a plant in need of nurturing, wouldn't encourage it with sweet croons and a direct flare of light. Most people aren't Zhang Hao.
He always dreamed of a love like this when he was younger. Despite its unattainability, it was a fantasy he liked to indulge in as a teenager. He knew it was unrealistic but there was no harm in dipping his toes into this specific image: to have a pretty boy trailing after him with hearts in his eyes and his tail practically wagging behind him. Someone to be so fucking obsessed with him they can't think about anything other than him. To have all of his whims and fancies accommodated without a shred of complaint, to be pulled into a broad chest when another man's gaze lingers on him a little too long, to be told that he can't spend time alone with certain friends, to be worshipped from head to toe. Hanbin does all of this and more.
He thinks that maybe if he never met Hanbin, this vision of love would've eventually faded away and been replaced with something safer. As he grew older that fantasy would've been beaten against the rocks until the jagged edges were flattened out, until all that was left was the smoothness of normalcy. He could run a tentative finger across it and not have to pop that finger into his mouth to staunch the blood flow. But where's the fun in that?
The wind blows his hair around his face as he hurries to the library, the coffee from the student centre warming his hand. It’s a poor substitute for what usually occupies his hand during walks across campus.
The library is as busy as it always is, teeming with students hunched over their laptops or scanning piles of books, but he picks Hanbin out immediately. There's always the sense of the world slowing down whenever he first lays eyes on Hanbin after they've been unfairly separated, as if his body is reminding him that he can finally relax. Right now, he's sitting at a table by the printers with Matthew occupying the chair opposite him. Even with Hanbin's back to the entrance, Zhang Hao can tell he's spacing out as he stares at the screen of his laptop.
In his excitement to reunite with him, a small jog sneaks its way into his step. He dodges backpacks and charging leads snaking out from the underside of couches as he makes his way over to the far side of the room.
Matthew spots him first but he notices that Hanbin seems to have perked up, as if his instincts are telling him that Zhang Hao is close. Zhang Hao grins and loops his arm around Hanbin's chest from behind, feeling him relax into his hold.
“Hi, Matthew,” he greets first so he can immediately devote himself to Hanbin afterwards, no matter how much of an uncharitable thought it may be. Matthew raises a hand in response, distracted by his laptop.
Now that his veneer of politeness has been maintained, he's free to focus on what matters. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, bending his head to kiss Hanbin's cheek.
Hanbin nudges into him, lips curving in a pretty smile. “Hi, gege.”
“I brought you coffee,” he announces, placing the cup down next to Hanbin's laptop. He feels Hanbin sag in gratitude in his arms.
Hanbin kisses the back of his hand. “Gege is so good to me.” He links their fingers together over his chest and tilts his head back, eyes wide in hope. “Are you staying?”
He asks this as if he doesn't have Zhang Hao's schedule committed to memory.
“I can't,” he says regretfully. "I have a meeting with my advisor.” He kisses Hanbin's forehead through his bangs. “I just wanted to drop by because I know how hard you're working. And I missed you.”
Hanbin's pout disappears as his face brightens. “I missed you too. So much.”
“Tell me something I don't know,” Matthew mutters under his breath, scrolling through something with a very despondent expression. Hanbin makes a rude gesture at him with his free hand. Without missing a beat or looking up, Matthew returns in kind.
“Play nice,” Zhang Hao says sternly. Matthew raises an eyebrow at him, either for the reprimand or for the way he's subtly nuzzling into Hanbin's soft hair. They share the same shampoo, naturally, and perfume and lotion on top of that, but Zhang Hao always finds himself missing Hanbin's scent more than anything. A lot of the time he accounts for this by stealing one of Hanbin's favourite hoodies to wear for himself, but he was scatterbrained this morning.
Hanbin pushes his chair away from the table and pats his lap. Zhang Hao gladly accepts.
“Group presentation for our history of dance class,” Hanbin stage-whispers to him as they get comfortable, Hanbin's arm supporting his back. “He's a bit stressed.”
“Oh? Are you working on it together?”
“Mm-hmm. With Jaebeom.” Hanbin evidently loses interest in this train of conversation. He gives Zhang Hao a cheeky smile. “Did gege come here to ask me if I could walk him to his meeting?”
"No,” Zhang Hao scoffs, because he didn't. “No ulterior motives. I just wanted to see my Hanbinie.”
Hanbin's ears redden but he ploughs on, determined. “I can walk you there, it's not a problem. And walk you to your lecture afterwards.”
Zhang Hao taps his nose. As appealing as that sounds, he doesn't want to give Matthew a reason to hate either of them. “I don't want to pull you away from your work and make you wait for me. And it's so far out of the way it would be a nuisance for you.”
Hanbin nods, forehead creased in consternation. “Exactly. It's such a long walk I'm worried that something could happen to you. What if you start to get tired, or trip over something and fall?”
“Ah,” Zhang Hao says, tilting his head and brushing a hand down Hanbin's chest. Hanbin tracks the movement of his mouth hungrily. “And my knight in shining armour won't be there to kiss it better? How terrible of him.”
“Very terrible,” Hanbin agrees readily, hand rhythmically squeezing Zhang Hao's thigh. His voice has dropped to an undertone. “What kind of man is he, leaving you all alone and defenceless?”
“Jesus,” Matthew groans, “enough with the foreplay. I’m literally sitting right here.”
Admittedly, Zhang Hao had forgotten that other people do exist. He sends an apologetic look to Matthew, whose gaze resolutely stays fixed on his laptop screen. Hanbin, for his part, ignores him and continues massaging his thigh.
He kisses Hanbin's cheek. “I'll call you the whole way. How does that sound?”
“Alright,” Hanbin accepts, though with a degree of disgruntlement. “So long as I can make sure you're safe.”
Zhang Hao rewards him with a kiss and pulls away from him when he tries to deepen it. “Try the coffee,” he nudges. “It was on promotion because it's new. Chocolate and hazelnut.”
Hanbin obediently takes a sip of it, then a larger one when it evidently passes his standards. Zhang Hao feels the approving hum vibrate in his chest.
“How is it?”
“Taste,” Hanbin whispers with a glint in his eye, and tilts his head up. Zhang Hao dips down to meet him and slips his tongue into his waiting mouth, hand cradling Hanbin's face.
The inside of his mouth carries residual heat from the coffee, along with the taste itself. Zhang Hao makes sure to get his fill. Hanbin draws him closer, as close as they feasibly can be with the barriers of their bodies in the way. He wonders, not for the first time, what they could get away with in public before Hanbin decides other people have seen too much of him.
“Yo,” Matthew hisses at them from across the table. “Can you, like, not tongue in the library? People are staring.”
“No,” Hanbin says petulantly after he draws back, not sparing him a glance. His gaze stays fixed on Zhang Hao. “What do you think?”
Zhang Hao smacks his lips a few times. The thick, cloying taste of hazelnut coats his tongue pleasantly.
“I like it,” he concludes, nodding to himself. “It's sweet.”
“But not as sweet as you,” Hanbin says, leering a little. Matthew sighs.
Zhang Hao shakes his head, smile tugging at his lips, and checks the time. He would happily spend the rest of his day perched in Hanbin's lap while he works on his presentation, but that's not an option that's available to him. He slides off his very comfortable seat and retrieves his bag from the floor somewhat morosely.
The pout is back. That in itself is very convincing but then Hanbin looks up at him with wide, dejected eyes and messy bangs and a tug to his sleeve and a coquettish, “Gege really can't stay?”
He feels his heart stop. He spends more time than he should debating whether he can escape Professor Lee's wrath by suddenly feigning illness twenty minutes before their meeting is due to start. From the corner of his eye, he notes that Matthew looks incredibly exasperated.
Alas, needs must. “Unfortunately not. I don't want my supervisor to kill me.”
He bites at Hanbin's lower lip because he can never resist when he looks that cute, then soothes over it with a gentle kiss. Hanbin reacts like this is exactly what he'd been waiting for and fists a hand in his hoodie to keep him in place, kissing back eagerly. Zhang Hao should've known.
He steps back once Hanbin relinquishes his hold on him. “I love you. Study hard after our call, okay?”
“I'll try,” Hanbin says solemnly. “I love you too.” He twists his body around in his chair to watch him go.
Zhang Hao calls him as soon as he's out of the sliding doors.
Hanbin answers before the second ring. “I miss you already,” he opens with. From the sullen tone of his voice Zhang Hao can envision him sulking. Eyebrows lowered, cheeks puffing out, bottom lip jutting out. Before meeting Hanbin he never understood the term cuteness aggression, but now there's no escape from it.
He tells Hanbin as much and is rewarded with the rich tone of his laughter.
They spend the next fifteen minutes chatting about things which would ordinarily be deemed meaningless, except nothing is meaningless when he has Hanbin speaking sotto voce to him. Like everything else, conversation comes easy to them. They've spent entire days in bed just talking about everything and nothing.
To Hanbin's immense relief, he makes it to the far side of campus without incident and slips into the concrete building, its facade at odds with the rest of campus. He climbs up the stairs to the floor that houses the staff offices, the light above the glass-panelled door flickering in and out of existence ominously. There’s always an eerie kind of vibe here — it’s silent whenever he comes here, apart from the sound of typing behind closed doors.
“I love you,” he says softly, lingering in the hallway. “More than anything in the whole world. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” Hanbin says, equally as soft. “And you know that I also love you more than anything. That’s why we’re a perfect match.” There’s a hint of smugness there if Zhang Hao listens hard enough.
“Yeah,” he says dreamily, then laughs when he remembers. “What does Matthew’s face look like right now?”
Hanbin snorts. “He put his headphones on a while ago. Said he wanted to focus.” The sound of rustling adds to the general background noise. “I'll pick you up from your lecture later.”
“Please,” Zhang Hao sighs, a little melodramatic. “The thought of you is the only thing that gets me through that class.”
Hanbin hums, pleased. He imagines the smile that must be sitting pretty on Hanbin's face and feels his own lovesick smile form in response.
They say their goodbyes when the minute hand on the clock in the hallway ticks over. It takes Zhang Hao a couple more minutes to tackle his expression into something more socially acceptable.
Afterwards, when he's finished discussing his dissertation with Professor Lee and is sitting bored out of his mind in the lecture hall, he receives a text.
seok matthew
it's been 43 minutes and your boyfriend is still cheesing to himself
i literally don't think he's touched a single slide
🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕
me
:)
“All done,” Zhang Hao announces as he finishes drying Hanbin's hair and hurriedly edges out from behind Hanbin to hang the towel up in their bathroom. From his glimpse in the mirror he can see that his own towel-dried hair, courtesy of Hanbin, is starting to fluff up.
Hanbin is still sitting cross-legged on the carpet when Zhang Hao returns. He grins when Zhang Hao doubles over in laughter. “What?”
“You look like an electrocuted cat,” he wheezes, pointing at the frizzy mess of hair atop his head. He grabs a comb from the bedside table, still giggling. “Ah, let me fix it…”
Hanbin meows at him, eyes sparkling, as Zhang Hao bends to quickly comb through the strands so he's presentable.
“Very convincing,” he tells him fondly, then kisses the tip of his nose. He discards the comb and holds out his hands for Hanbin to grab. “Up, up, we're running late.”
He realises his mistake when he has to contend with a Hanbin clad only in boxers.
“My eyes are up here,” Hanbin jokes when his gaze lingers a fraction too long. Zhang Hao turns away with a huff, Hanbin right on his heels as he heads for the wardrobe. He squeezes Zhang Hao's waist. “What are we wearing today?”
He hands him the pile of clothes he picked out last night: black socks, black jeans, a white T-shirt, and an unbuttoned denim shirt to be worn as an extra layer. His own pile, exactly the same, sits expectantly on the chair next to him.
Once they’re clothed and Hanbin is done choosing their rings, he holds his arms out to the side in emphasis. “We're matching.”
Hanbin worries his bottom lip in thought. “Not quite.” He takes Zhang Hao's hand and tugs him back into the bathroom.
Zhang Hao understands what he's about to do before Hanbin even reaches for their eyebrow pencil. With an ease belying his movements which speaks to how often he does this, Hanbin draws imitations of Zhang Hao's moles onto his face. Zhang Hao watches him with a strange contentment: underneath his eye, around his mouth, on his chin, by his ear. Hanbin knows their exact placements without having to check.
When he looks in the mirror he can delude himself into thinking they really have morphed into the same person.
They really are running late but it would be incredibly unfair — and upsetting — if only Hanbin were able to indulge in this, so he sticks his chin out and orders, “Now me.”
Hanbin smiles in response and gently takes his chin in hand, tilting his face up to the light and turning his head as required. He dutifully copies his own moles onto Zhang Hao's face, the ones on his forehead included even though they’ll be hidden by his bangs.
They study their reflections in the bathroom mirror in silence.
Zhang Hao slides an arm around Hanbin's waist. “How do we look?”
Hanbin smiles with all of his teeth. “Like twins.”
“Hi, baby,” Zhang Hao greets, glancing up from his textbook as Hanbin collapses on the bed without a word. He curls around him, his face pressed into Zhang Hao's thigh. Zhang Hao strokes his hair lightly. “Everything okay?”
Hanbin is quiet for long enough that Zhang Hao is about to move his thigh away to see if he's straight-up passed out, but Hanbin tenses against him. Zhang Hao can only see the crown of his head. “I saw your ex today. Seongmin.” Hanbin practically spits his name.
The annoyance is slow to filter through, along with the anger. His hand pauses with strands of Hanbin's hair poking out between his fingers. “Did he speak to you again?”
“Yeah.” He plays with the string of Zhang Hao's sweatpants, his movements stilted. “He lied to me. He said that the two of you are back in touch, just to rile me up.” A crease forms in his brow. “And it worked, I guess.”
“Do you want to check?”
At this, Hanbin finally looks up. “No. I trust you, hyung.”
“I know you do,” Zhang Hao says easily, “but you can check my phone if you want. I don't mind. Really.”
Hanbin hesitates, his features drawn together in conflict, so Zhang Hao makes the decision for him. He passes his phone to him nonchalantly and waits.
Hanbin holds his phone gingerly for a moment, as if he's debating with himself, before rolling onto his back. Like this, Zhang Hao can see him type in the 1306 password and immediately open up Instagram. He searches up all of Zhang Hao's exes one by one; he knows their Instagram handles off by heart. Zhang Hao's heart beats a little faster in his chest, thrilled with the knowledge that Hanbin keeps tabs on him like this too. He scrolls through his direct messages for good measure, then WeChat, then KKT. There's a sick sense of vicarious satisfaction that rushes through him as he watches Hanbin obsessively turn over every stone.
“You blocked them all,” Hanbin acknowledges, something like wonder in his voice.
“Of course I did.” His nails drag across Hanbin's scalp. “I'm yours. I don't want to ever be reminded of a time when I wasn't.”
“Hyung,” Hanbin says weakly. The phone is forgotten, falling to the mattress with a light thump. “Hyung, I really love you.”
Hanbin turns into him almost desperately and kisses the sliver of stomach where his shirt has ridden up, his teeth gently scraping against the skin. Sometimes Hanbin treats him like his own emotional support chew toy, an object he can gnaw on and mark up for everyone to see, but it's not like Zhang Hao is complaining.
“I know,” he says tenderly, rubbing circles into Hanbin's cheek with his thumb. “I'm sorry he annoyed you again.”
“Not your fault.” He rolls onto his back and blows out a breath. “The worst part is that I can't really fault him for it. If I ever had you then I wouldn't be able to move on either.”
“But with you,” Zhang Hao says, “the difference is that I wouldn't want you to.”
Hanbin snorts. “Yeah?” Their shoulders brush as he manoeuvres himself up next to Zhang Hao. “Be careful what you wish for. I'd be like one of those crazy exes you see on TV shows, completely losing my mind over the thought of you with someone else.”
It takes form in his mind: the idea of Hanbin going to the ends of the earth to get him back, blowing up his phone with incoherent voicemails, banging down his door, finding him with his new boyfriend. Rage would look so beautiful on him. He has to regain control of his breathing at the image of what would come next.
“Like you don't already do that now,” he whispers, heel of his hand skating down Hanbin's front until he can cup his bulge. He's thickening quickly, either from Zhang Hao's touch or words or both. “You can't even handle the thought of it. You would kill anyone who ever tried to get with me afterwards.”
Hanbin makes a hastily bitten-off noise, knee drawing up. “Hyung…”
“It's okay,” he soothes, rubbing him over the cotton. “You can be honest with me. You would, wouldn't you?”
“Fuck,” Hanbin moans, hips kicking up in their search for pressure. He loves when Hanbin gets desperate for him, loves knowing that he has him completely at his mercy. “You know I would, hyung, God, I'd be fucking insane—”
“Good,” Zhang Hao says with no small amount of pride. He slinks down the length of Hanbin's body so he can put his mouth to better use.
Jealousy used to be foreign to him. It's strange to conceive of his past self now, the person he used to be before melding himself with Hanbin. If he could even be called a person at all then, instead of a rudimentary sack of flesh and bones. There are days where he's not quite sure he met the qualifications. Hanbin's entrance into his life was a sudden switch from a grey monotone to a full bloom of technicolour.
It's why jealousy, as a concept, never clicked with him. It assumes ownership, assumes that he rightfully possesses someone and anything that disrupts that is a threat to him personally. Zhang Hao never owned anyone: no person was ever his, was a fundamental part of his being. He never felt like he would die if his exes giggled at someone else's joke or spent a second too long trapped in conversation with someone else. That didn't stop them from attempting to spark a change of heart. One of his exes used to try and provoke him for this very reason, draping himself over mutual friends of theirs at clubs or casually mentioning that he was meeting up with an old flame to start a burgeoning friendship, but the strategy failed to hit home. Zhang Hao would only give him a bland look for his troubles.
With Hanbin, though, everything is different. He wasn't even aware he could feel like this, this green-eyed monster invading his body and churning acid in his stomach. It was an uneventful realisation that he would rather die, or kill, than let anyone else have Hanbin; it only seemed like the natural order of things, like everyone else in the world would already have the rule that Hanbin was off-limits ingrained into them. This boy, though, must have a mistake in his biology.
He's beginning to regret drinking the soju that Taerae has been plying him with all evening.
"I'm not sure it's possible to set someone on fire just by looking at them," Taerae remarks in his typical Taerae way. He throws a mournful glance at Gyuvin laughing across the room. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
He sways on the spot as he talks, seemingly a little drunk. Maybe Zhang Hao is too. See, this is what happens when Hanbin leaves him alone. He needs Hanbin to tell him what's good for him.
He wrinkles his nose, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy sidling closer to Hanbin under the guise of struggling to hear him. "I'm not trying to set anyone on fire." He wants to do a lot worse to this guy than set him on fire. His cup of somaek is shaking in his hand. He'll give them one more minute before he marches over there.
"Sure, hyung," Taerae says, disbelieving. He shakes his head and mutters something that suspiciously sounds like jealous.
“And I'm not jealous,” he lies. What he'll admit in the privacy of his own mind is different than what he'll admit out loud. “I just think that guy should get a clue. Me and Hanbin even—”
"Spare me the details, I beg you," Taerae implores, sounding genuinely pained. "What happens between you two stays between you two. That's our unofficial motto now."
Zhang Hao perks up as he takes another swig. This is news to him. "Really?"
Taerae nods like a bobblehead. “Matthew came up with it. I think he's determined on ignoring all the weird shit you do.”
Zhang Hao tuts. “All of you are so nosy,” he chides. “It's not that hard to mind your own business.”
Taerae laughs at that, full-bellied and loud. It attracts more than a few stares, including from Hanbin whose mouth is getting thinner and thinner. “Acting like you don't love it. You're such a fucking Leo, you can't fool me.”
Zhang Hao pokes his face. “That means nothing to me.”
“Yeah, okay. ‘S not like he's any better. He'd probably let you tattoo your name on his face.”
“Only probably?” Zhang Hao questions with a smirk, then drains his cup. When his vision rights itself again, Hanbin is standing in front of him with a faint tension around his eyes. Zhang Hao falls into him eagerly, content in the knowledge that Hanbin will gladly bear his weight.
Hanbin catches him and holds him against his front with a hand on the small of his back. Zhang Hao hangs off of him, face turned into Hanbin's shoulder, and wiggles happily. Hanbin doesn't let him budge.
"I think your boyfriend missed you,” Taerae supplies helpfully, presumably watching this unfold in front of him.
"I missed him too,” Hanbin says, kissing his temple.
The obnoxious sound of Taerae fake-retching rings in his ears. Or real-retching. Zhang Hao doesn't know; his face is buried in Hanbin's neck, breathing in his cologne and the natural scent of his skin. Hanbin's skin is slightly sticky with sweat, acquired from their dancing earlier. Zhang Hao sets his tongue to the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and licks at the salty beads of sweat that have accumulated there. Hanbin's fingers flex around his waist. Sometimes he thinks he could eat Hanbin and it still wouldn't be enough to satiate him.
“Ew,” he hears Taerae say loudly. “I am not sticking around for the reunion.” There's the faint sound of footsteps, almost lost in the bass that pounds around them.
Then they're alone. Hanbin stretches out to the side, likely setting Zhang Hao's empty cup down somewhere, before enveloping him in his arms again. “Hi,” Hanbin whispers into his hair. He's so warm. “You okay?”
Zhang Hao hums and clings to him tighter. They've only been at the party for less than two hours but he’s already craving the comfort of their home, the welcome cage of Hanbin's arms around him. Outings like this always serve to remind him what a waste of time they are. A countdown to when the two of them can get back to their true selves in the safety and privacy of their bubble.
“I wanna go home,” he mumbles in answer.
Hanbin drops a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sure, princess.” He smooths a hand down Zhang Hao's back, palm bumping against the ridges of his harness. “You want to say goodbye?”
“No.” He pulls back and evaluates to be sure; their friends are dotted around the room, each of them talking or laughing with people Zhang Hao only peripherally knows. He frankly lacks the patience to do the rounds, especially now that he has Hanbin back where he should be. “We can leave.”
The room spins ever so slightly. Hanbin keeps an iron grip around his waist, ensuring that he’s not about to fall flat on his face. Once they’re in the elevator he starts to knead his waist casually, fingers worming underneath the straps of his harness. Zhang Hao presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and is gratified to feel it lift into a smile.
“Sorry,” he says as the elevator begins its descent. “In case you…”
“In case what,” Hanbin says, puzzled. “I didn't want to stay anyway. Being alone with you is much more fun.”
If Taerae were here, he would be receiving a massive side-eye right now. But he’s not.
“You were flirting with that boy,” he accuses, poking Hanbin's stomach.
The elevator doors open into the lobby; neither of them move.
“Never,” Hanbin swears, turning to him. His hand burns through Zhang Hao's shirt. “How could I when I have you?” He leans in to kiss his neck. There's a camera stationed in the corner of the elevator, over Hanbin's shoulder. Zhang Hao stares right into its lens, resisting the childish urge to bare his teeth at the red light.
Hanbin guides him outside, where it’s more humid than he’s comfortable with but it’s at least cooler than Gyuvin’s apartment. His cheeks welcome the change in temperature. A trio of women all clad in bodycon dresses are smoking to their left.
“Piggyback?” he asks hopefully, leaning against Hanbin.
Hanbin snorts but obediently crouches down. Zhang Hao climbs up with some uncoordinated struggling, though he's free to relax once Hanbin gets his hands around his thighs and hoists him up higher with that added leverage.
"Poor baby," Hanbin says fondly as they get moving, away from the fluttering tendrils of smoke. Zhang Hao briefly admires their conjoined reflection in the window of a parked car they pass. "Had a little too much to drink in the few minutes I was gone?"
"Wasn't a few minutes," he mutters sullenly. "It was too long." He lightly bites the shell of Hanbin's ear to punctuate his statement, then grins when Hanbin's body shakes with his laughter.
“You're drunk.”
“Maybe. Tipsy.” He kisses Hanbin's ear in apology. “Are you?”
“No.” He sighs. “Though I should always be drunk if I'm dealing with Gyuvin's music taste.”
He has to think for a few moments to get the words in order. “It's fun seeing how the other half lives.”
Hanbin laughs so hard he staggers, Zhang Hao's weight almost sending him careening down the street. He curls tighter around him in response.
They're a ten-minute walk from their apartment — probably a bit longer now that Hanbin has an added weight on his back — in the student area close to campus. That, coupled with the fact it's a nice spring night, means that they pass their fair share of partygoers or people heading home after their evening shifts. They garner their fair share of sidelong glances too, which he wouldn't mind if it weren't for how he can tell he's being dismissed as a drunk friend of Hanbin's and nothing more.
Hanbin's grip on his thighs mean that his dangling legs bounce with every step, but if he wanted he could wrap them around Hanbin's hips instead and trap him like that. He wishes he could be a boa constrictor only without the constriction part, winding tighter and tighter around Hanbin so he can keep him safe within his coils. Protect him from harm, not allowing the rest of the world to touch him with their grubby fingers. That sounds nice.
“Hanbinie.”
“Mm?”
Even the way he speaks is too cute. Zhang Hao hides his face in his neck. “I love you.”
“I love you too, gege,” Hanbin says easily, hitching him up a little higher on his back. “Almost there.”
They arrive home an indeterminate amount of time later; time always tilts on its side when he’s with Hanbin, slides into something distinctly formless. Nabi's claws skitter across the wood as she runs to welcome them. Zhang Hao flops into a heap on the floor as Nabi rolls over and allows her stomach to be petted, her tongue lolling out in happiness. He leans against Hanbin's legs as he stands over Zhang Hao and cards a hand through his hair in repeated motions.
"Time for bed," Hanbin declares once Nabi has retreated back to her bed in clear dismissal.
Zhang Hao simultaneously lifts his head and his arms, fingertips straining towards the ceiling as he widens his eyes.
Amusement flickers over Hanbin's upside-down face. "You have legs," he reminds him.
Zhang Hao pouts. "I'm tired."
Hanbin laughs. “From being carried?” He caves quickly. "Hyung is so spoiled.”
The time outside has practically sobered him up completely but he's not going to mention that when he's awarded with seeing the muscles strain in Hanbin's arms instead.
Zhang Hao smiles into his shoulder, proud and satisfied. "Your fault."
"Good.” He jostles him a little in his arms. "Never going to give you anything less."
The bathroom light flickers into existence with a tug on the cord. Hanbin sits him on the counter next to the sink and begins to painstakingly remove his eyeliner for him. Zhang Hao's fingers loosely hook into his belt loops, keeping him between his legs so he can freely admire how pretty Hanbin is.
“Okay?” he checks as he very gently runs the cotton pad along Zhang Hao's lash lines. Zhang Hao hums in affirmation.
"Gege is so pretty," Hanbin whispers once the pad runs clear, thumb stroking Zhang Hao's cheek as his eyes flicker over Zhang Hao's face like they can't quite decide what feature to land on. "So pretty and all mine."
"All yours," Zhang Hao agrees, hand cradling the back of Hanbin's neck. Hanbin kisses him then, hungry and wanting, as if he's been starving for Zhang Hao's mouth. It's been too long since they last kissed. Roughly forty minutes ago, in the cleared-out space of Gyuvin's living room with his arms around Hanbin's neck and Hanbin lazily grinding against his front while the speakers blasted some pop-rap club mix. He'd sensed all the people watching them, their stares of envy or desire searing into the back of his head, and felt only immeasurable victory. Declaring his ownership of Hanbin to the world.
"Caught so many people checking you out tonight," Hanbin murmurs into his mouth, as if reading his mind. Though he wouldn't need to do that, of course, not when they share the same brain. "Even with me all over you and they still look at you like that. What do I have to do to get them to stop, hm?"
“I wish I knew.” He pulls back, hands blocking Hanbin's shoulders as he tries to follow. “I had to ask myself the same question.”
His stomach curdles as he thinks of that boy flirting with what's his, the smarmy smile on his face as he stole Hanbin's time. He swears that he smirked at Zhang Hao for a millisecond, too, while Zhang Hao was watching them converse. Smirk all you want, he thinks now. Look at which one of us has him here.
“So cute when you get jealous,” Hanbin says with delight, finger tracing the jut of his lower lip. “My pouty princess.”
Zhang Hao's teeth snap at his finger. “Not cute.” He turns his face away with a huff. “And not your princess.”
Hanbin's arms encircle him immediately, suddenly in his space. His sandalwood scent tickles his nose. “Of course not. My mistake.” The warmth of his breath skitters down Zhang Hao's neck as he presses a kiss to his skin. “I must be thinking of someone else who loves it when I call him that.”
Zhang Hao scowls and socks him in the side, ignoring his yelp. “You call other boys princess?”
Hanbin grins at him and Zhang Hao melts; he's just too cute to stay mad at, even jokingly. "Just the one. Maybe you know him.”
“What's he like?”
Hanbin pretends to think for a moment, eyebrows adorably scrunched together. “The prettiest boy I've ever seen. A little taller than me. Always makes me laugh. Talented at absolutely everything. Refuses to walk down stairs if I don't hold his hand. Thinks he can get whatever he wants if he pouts at me.”
Zhang Hao raises a brow, biting down on a smile. “And can he?”
“Yes,” Hanbin says seriously, leaning in again, “absolutely. He doesn't need to pout at me to accomplish that but I won't tell him. I enjoy the view.”
Zhang Hao nudges their noses together, speaking into the nonexistent gap between their mouths. “I'm sure you do.”
This time, he allows his arms to loop around Hanbin's shoulders. Hanbin is sweet with him, taking his time to explore the inside of Zhang Hao's mouth even though he's done it a thousand times before. He thinks that's a neat analogy for their entire relationship: the spark refusing to die out. The atmosphere mellows out until they're trading lazy kisses, the sounds echoing against the tiles. Hanbin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a slick sound, eyes darkening at the gloss of saliva. Zhang Hao stops him before he can repeat the gesture.
“I hate it when you don't pay attention to me,” he confesses, voice startlingly loud in their tiny bathroom.
Hanbin's eyes flick between his, a worried notch forming in his brow. “I'm always paying attention to you, baby, no matter what.” He pauses. “Did you really think I was flirting with him?”
If Zhang Hao had more patience, it would be an effortless feat to get Hanbin to sink to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But all he wants right now is Hanbin in his arms.
“I know you wouldn't,” he tells him, resting their foreheads together. Hanbin's hands stroke up and down his waist. “I just get…annoyed when people approach you like that, thinking they have a chance with you.”
“I wasn't paying attention to a word he was saying,” Hanbin says. His hands skim the insides of Zhang Hao's thighs as he pushes them further apart. “I was thinking of you the entire time he was talking to me.”
Zhang Hao tilts his head, eyelids fluttering as Hanbin kisses his neck again. “What about me?”
“Mainly,” Hanbin says into his skin, “what I was going to do to you when we got home.”
Anticipation sits thick on his tongue. Absolutely nothing is better than this, this heady push-and-pull between them in the moments before the veneer collapses. “And what did you have in mind?”
Hanbin pulls back, pupils blown wide. “I think you want to be fucked,” he whispers. “You've been acting like it all day, giving me the eyes and hoping I would get the hint.”
Zhang Hao swallows. Heat flashes through him. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Hanbin feigns interest. “No?” He suddenly wraps a hand around Zhang Hao's thigh and jerks him forward so he's sitting right on the edge of the counter. Zhang Hao squeaks in shock and clamps his legs around Hanbin's hips so he's not in danger of falling off. “But you wore this tonight?”
His fingers toy with the straps of the harness draped across his chest, hooking a finger underneath the leather of one strap and tugging so the other strap pulls taut. Zhang Hao's ankles knock together as he barely avoids biting through his tongue. Encouraged, Hanbin cinches the strap around his waist tighter, twisting it in his fist, and watches hungrily as his shirt creases underneath it.
"’S not because I want to be fucked,” he manages through Hanbin's ministrations. “It's just a nice outfit.”
“It is,” Hanbin agrees. “You looked gorgeous. That's why nobody could take their eyes off you.” He releases the harness and starts to squeeze his waist, then his hips, before his hands slide down and around. He speaks fast and low, a hint of frenzy in his eyes, “Another thing about the boy I was just telling you about. He has the kind of body where all I have to do to get hard is look at it for a second. Doesn't even matter if he's wearing clothes or not, he just has that effect on me. Sometimes all I can think about is fucking him until he cries.”
“You sound,” Zhang Hao rasps, “like a massive pervert.” Then he gives in.
He has all of Hanbin’s kisses catalogued: sweet, when they’re saying goodnight to each other or cooking together or when he finds Zhang Hao especially cute; teasing, when Zhang Hao is pouting at him or when they’re cozied up in the dining hall; forlorn, when they quickly meet up between classes; filthy, when he thinks Zhang Hao needs a reminder of how much he wants him. This kiss is the latter, lewd and messy and perfect.
Hanbin's hands edge underneath his waistband, groping his ass over the thin fabric of his underwear. Zhang Hao moans and arches into his touch, rocking back.
“Yeah,” Hanbin says into his open mouth, unimaginably smug. “Just like I thought.”
“Then get on with it if you're so sure of yourself,” Zhang Hao mumbles with a pointed poke to his chest.
“Yessir,” Hanbin says playfully, hefting him into his arms for the five seconds it takes to reach their bedroom. He deposits him on the bed and stands over him with a grin, eyes raking over the sprawl of his body appreciatively. “I'm not allowed to take my time with a boy as pretty as you?”
“Not tonight.” He can see for himself how much Hanbin wants him. He palms his crotch through the denim and Hanbin instinctively bucks into the touch, head dropping for a moment before he remembers himself. Zhang Hao is delighted to discover he's fully hard. “Already?”
“Weren't you listening to what I just said?” Hanbin shoots back, a tad amused. He traps Zhang Hao's hand underneath his and presses down harder, a sigh whistling through his teeth. “You have no idea how you look.”
Zhang Hao fiddles one-handed with the button of Hanbin's jeans, then his zipper. “I want you to fuck me,” he says breathily, eyes deliberately half-lidded as he looks up at Hanbin. Hanbin's cock throbs underneath his palm. “Aren't you going to give me what I want?”
His hand falls away as Hanbin takes the hint and rushes to undress, eyes locked on him like he can't bear the thought of looking away. “I always do, don't I?”
“You do,” he answers, even though it was a rhetorical question. He's decided Hanbin needs a little extra encouragement so spreads his legs in an obvious message, heel of his hand dragging across the base of his cock. “You always take the best care of me.”
Hanbin's previous mirth evaporates. Zhang Hao lifts his hips as Hanbin sheds him of his jeans and underwear, before he joins him on the bed. Desperation takes hold of him and he sloppily grinds against Zhang Hao’s thigh, too impatient to contain himself as he simultaneously works Zhang Hao out of his harness and button-up shirt. His hands are moving so fast Zhang Hao can barely keep track of them.
As soon as he can awkwardly twist one arm out of his shirt, he reaches for their lube and lobs the bottle at Hanbin's chest. It bounces off onto the sheets and lands between his thighs.
“In in in,” Zhang Hao slurs as soon as he's freed from his constraints. "Hurry.”
“Yeah,” Hanbin breathes, entranced by how the unfastened harness looks against Zhang Hao’s skin. He's taking too long. One day they'll work up to Hanbin fucking right in without prep, who cares if Zhang Hao bleeds or cries or won't be able to sit at all the next day, it will be worth it because it's the kind of desperation that comes with needing to be together as soon as humanly possible, his body will adapt to take Hanbin like that because of course it will. But he'll train him later. He doesn't want to scare Hanbin off.
He makes a wordless noise of frustration and pushes Hanbin back onto the bedspread, straddling him and messily lubing his own fingers up. He hasn't had to do this to himself in a long while — Hanbin usually doesn't stand for it, but tonight Zhang Hao has no option. He begins to stretch himself, balancing on Hanbin to account for the unwelcoming angle, and traps his whimper behind his teeth.
Hanbin surges up, more concerned than anything. “Let me—”
“No,” Zhang Hao gasps, pushing him back down with a hand on his chest. He adds another finger, black spots dancing in his vision. “You always take, hah, too long.”
“I need to,” Hanbin says, a little petulant. “Because I'm…” He lets the sentence hang there, wary of where Zhang Hao will lead it.
“Because you're what,” Zhang Hao mocks breathlessly, words like mush in his mouth. Three fingers now; his wrist is already cramping, no matter how perfunctorily he's fucking himself open. “Big? Do you think that's what he was thinking about too?” He grits his teeth as his fingers withdraw.
Hanbin's expression softens in that way Zhang Hao has only ever seen happen because of him. “Baby—”
He brusquely grasps the base of Hanbin's cock and seats himself in one fell swoop. Hanbin makes a punched-out sound, fingers tightening around Zhang Hao's hips. His eyes roll back into his head at the delicious burn of pain-pleasure. He can practically feel Hanbin in his throat. In all of his years of life, there's never been anything that compares to having Hanbin literally inside of him.
Once the sensation of being split apart stops and the white fades from his vision, he comes back to himself. Hanbin is sweeping his hands up and down his waist soothingly, careful not to jostle him.
“Tell me you'll never leave me,” he demands as he slowly circles his hips, taking a few moments to allow his body to adjust.
Hanbin blinks up at him, pink-cheeked and already dazed. “I'll never leave you,” he vows. The sincerity in his eyes is overwhelming. “Never, gege.”
“I'll lock you up,” he says. He's aware of how insane he sounds but the words trip out of him without a care. Hanbin's dick has some kind of superpower which brings his hidden truths to light. “I'll throw away the key. I'll chain you to me. I'll—I'll—”
“I know,” Hanbin soothes, hands cupping Zhang Hao's rolling hips. He looks at Zhang Hao like he's his entire world. “I'd let you. You can do anything you want to me.”
He shakes his head a few seconds after Hanbin finishes talking; the signals from his brain to the rest of his body are delayed. He feels cock-dumb already, which is never a good sign. “Can't say that to me.”
“Why not? It's the truth.” Two of his fingers slip between his cheeks to probe at his stretched rim. Zhang Hao's rhythm falters in shock. “I always give you what you want, don't I?”
“Yes,” he breathes. He's torn between relief and disappointment when the pressure of his fingers disappears.
He starts to bounce, raising himself up and down over and over again until his thighs ache, but the pace he's setting isn't quite right, isn't working for him the way he wants. There's only one person who can do that. He stops with an abrupt edge of frustration. “Hanbin,” he whines.
Hanbin tips them over, cock momentarily slipping out before he wraps Zhang Hao's legs around his waist and pushes back in smoothly. Zhang Hao moans in relief. This is how it should be.
“Better?”
He nods rapidly, words stuck in his throat. A blissful blankness has invaded his mind, thoughts slipping past him like pebbles tumbling in a river current.
“That's right,” Hanbin murmurs, head lowering to kiss him. “You just let me do all the work, baby.”
He drapes his arms over Hanbin's shoulders, their open mouths brushing together. It's not a kiss in the most technical sense of the word, what with Hanbin steadily thrusting in and out of him, but Hanbin is working hard to swallow his string of moans for him. Like this, with his favourite person in the world hovering over him and sheathed inside of him, he feels like he's slipped into some kind of meditative trance. It doesn't take long for Hanbin to hit something deep inside of him which causes him to make a sound embarrassingly close to a sob.
“Baby,” Hanbin whispers, hand tangling with Zhang Hao's against the mattress. “My baby, all mine.” He hits home again and wrenches a moan out of Zhang Hao's mouth. “Tell me.”
“All yours,” he repeats immediately, unthinkingly. His nails scrabble uselessly at Hanbin's shoulder. “I'm yours, never gonna let anyone else have me—”
“Good,” Hanbin says above him, something vicious in his voice. “They would be stupid to try.” His pace quickens at the thought of it, cock driving him in and out of him like he's trying to imprint the shape of himself inside of him.
Zhang Hao can't stop himself from making noises as he's pushed up their bed with the force of it, little gasps or low moans. Hanbin unlinks their hands to hold him down, hand splayed on his stomach. To stop him escaping, his mind supplies. His legs tighten around Hanbin's waist.
Regardless of how the night begins, Hanbin always ends up fucking him stupid.
“You drive me crazy,” Hanbin pants. “You drive me so fucking crazy, gege, you don't even know.”
“I know,” Zhang Hao says, voice caught on a sob. “I know, of course I know.”
Hanbin kisses him as his hips slow into a deep grind, dropping to his forearms so they're brought closer together. Zhang Hao's cocks weeps pitifully onto his stomach where it's trapped between them, all the more so now that Hanbin is refusing to budge from his prostate.
“You knew I wasn't flirting with him,” Hanbin says right into his ear. The drag of his cock inside turns him into something pitiful. “And he wasn't flirting with me either. You just hate it when you think my attention is off you for a second.”
“Yes,” he babbles, tongue-tied as Hanbin rocks into him, “yes, yes—”
“Silly gege.” Hanbin sighs as if he's disappointed, lips skimming Zhang Hao's cheekbone. “When will you learn that you're all I ever think about?”
He makes off a choked-off sound at that, stomach turning in pleasure and every molecule in his body straining for release. He knows Hanbin is the same, can see the desperation in his eyes and feel it with every shove inside.
“Together,” Hanbin says, and Zhang Hao nods frantically. He thinks at this point Hanbin could tell him anything and he would agree.
Hanbin's hand fists him tightly, roughly. The sound of his cockhead disappearing into his fist is obscene. It only takes a few more pumps for him to scratch his nails down Hanbin's back in warning before his muscles seize up. He clenches down around him with a stuttered moan that rings out. Hanbin groans and spills inside of him a moment later, hips still shallowly moving before coming to a halt. He repeats his thought from earlier: nothing compares to having Hanbin literally inside of him.
Hanbin collapses on top of him and pants into his ear, a sticky mix of sweat and cum between them. He vaguely registers all of this happening, though his mind is elsewhere. His legs feel like jelly.
Hanbin kisses the corner of his mouth and carefully pulls out of him. Both the feeling and the sound make him hold his breath; he isn't even given a brief moment of respite before Hanbin's fingers plug him up.
Zhang Hao, in a very undignified manner, squeaks.
“Shh,” Hanbin soothes absently, fingers crooking inside as he scoops some of his cum out of his sensitive hole. He smears it across Zhang Hao's stomach, mingling it with his own, and rubs it into his skin like it's lotion. There's a strange hypnotic quality to his movements, as if he's possessed.
Zhang Hao wrinkles his nose. “Gross.” Hanbin gives him an amused look; they both know he doesn't mean it. He would be a hypocrite otherwise. He knocks his knee against Hanbin's waist. “If you wanted to come on me, you should've just said.”
“I wanted to do both,” Hanbin says, leaning over him and aligning their mouths. His hand is still massaging Zhang Hao's stomach. “See? Compromise.”
“I don't think that’s what that means,” Zhang Hao points out. The words are white noise, lost to both of them as he weakly props himself up on his elbows to meet Hanbin. He ends up collapsing back onto the bedspread a few seconds later when his arms give out, much to Hanbin's amusement.
"Shut up,” he grumbles as Hanbin giggles in his face, cheeks dyed a pretty pink. “You fucked all of my…” The word refuses to come to him in Korean. He frowns and mutters it in Chinese instead.
“Strength,” Hanbin translates for him after a moment of thinking.
“Teacher's pet,” he says affectionately, tucking a lock of damp hair behind Hanbin's ear. It's embarrassing how they just finished having sex but it's the reminder that Hanbin is learning a whole new language for him which makes him want to hide his face in his hands. “But yes, you fucked all of my strength out. And clearly my brains too.”
Hanbin's mouth curls up in self-satisfaction. “I know, it's all my fault.” He kisses Zhang Hao's jaw. “I'll make it up to laoshi in the shower.”
Zhang Hao groans in protest but allows Hanbin to drag him into the bathroom. And he's feeling magnanimous so he allows Hanbin to clean him up very thoroughly too, the two of them listening to the other's ragged breathing over the rush of water.
Later, once they settle down to sleep with the protective weight of Hanbin's arm thrown over his waist from behind, he can feel Hanbin thinking.
“Hao,” he whispers into the darkness. Zhang Hao hums. “What you were saying earlier…was it just talk?”
“Hm? Which part?”
“Any of it, I guess.” A pause, before his voice returns with a wavering note of anxiety. “Sometimes I really do think about locking you up. I'm sorry. I can't help it.”
Zhang Hao rolls over. Hanbin's eyes are a flat black. “Why are you apologising?” Hanbin remains silent. “Do you think, after everything, that would upset me? Especially when I brought it up in the first place?”
“I don't know,” Hanbin admits. He opens his mouth then closes it again, the corner twisting down. Zhang Hao waits patiently. Hanbin speaks slowly, like he's parsing through the words as he talks, “I—everyone says it's a lot, what we have. Intense.”
“It is,” Zhang Hao instantly agrees, hugging Hanbin closer. “But I don't care what they say. I can't imagine not being like this with you. It's the natural state of things, you know? It's just how we are. And it's what makes us both happy.”
Relief loosens the tense set of Hanbin's shoulders, though a distinct wariness persists. “I can't imagine it being any different either. It's just that I get scared, sometimes, that one day you'll wake up and decide that you're not so happy with me anymore, that it's too much for you.”
“Bin-ah,” he begins, but Hanbin speaks quickly.
“I know it's stupid. I know that you want me as much as I want you. But there are times I still get worried that maybe one day I'll push too far.”
Zhang Hao blinks. “Baby, the chances of that happening are literally less than zero.” He tucks Hanbin's hair behind his ear repeatedly in a bid to channel the energy rushing through him. “We're going to graduate in a few months. We're going to get matching tattoos where everyone can see them. I'm going to take the best care of you. We're going to find jobs that are near to each other. All of your coworkers will politely look the other way when I come visit you. We’re going to call each other on our lunch breaks. We're going to elope in whichever country will take us, then have an unofficial ceremony for our families later. We're going to somehow be more sickeningly in love than we are now. And I am never, ever going to wish for anything different.”
Hanbin curls into him, the planes of his face softened. His face is hidden now, but not before Zhang Hao caught the wet shine to his eyes.
“Please don't let yourself worry about that again,” he continues. “It upsets me, okay? It feels like you're doubting my love for you. I'm yours, you're mine, that's the only thing that matters. Fuck what anyone else thinks.”
Hanbin nods into his chest, hair brushing Zhang Hao's chin, and tucks himself closer. His voice is shaky when he speaks. “I really, really love you.”
“I love you too, baby,” he whispers into his hair. “You make me so happy and you always will. You wanna know something?”
“Always.”
“Every day I think about how lucky we are to have found each other, but deep down I know our meeting was inevitable. Maybe not in this life or the next, but at some point. We were made for each other.”
He forces himself to stop there because there's a very real fear he might actually start crying.
Hanbin makes an amused sound, though Zhang Hao knows he's touched from his arm tightening around him. “Gege gets sappy at night.” He kisses Zhang Hao's chest, over the beating drum of his heart. He must be able to hear it from where he is, thumping away. He must know that it's all for him too.
And now he must know that Zhang Hao always means every word he says when it comes to him. He'll spend the rest of his life convincing him of that if he has to.
They fall asleep like that, curved around each other and bodies leeching warmth and their love reflecting back onto one another.