Chapter Text
It’s safe to say Si-eun isn’t terribly impressed with the state of Japan at the moment. He saw this coming, he and everyone else in the country, but it doesn’t make it any easier to bear. War is never ideal, of course, but this time it’s so close to home, literally right outside their front doors, and it’s really just annoying, when it’s not completely terrifying. Everyone is pretty much over the whole glory thing of war by now, especially after the first world war.
Nevertheless, it’s happening. Si-eun can see the soldiers wandering down the streets of his beautiful little village from the window of his flat, can hear them talking and laughing loudly. They’re Korean, the ones infesting his village. They speak ugly English, with harsh vowels and flat words and they laugh like idiots, all of them, at all hours of the night when Si-eun is trying to catch up on sleep. They’ve completely taken over the bar where Si-eun works, running the poor cooks into the ground with all their demands and leaving Si-eun exhausted and irritable after a long night running around for them.
Si-eun peeks through the kitchen door as Yeong-i comes through it, surveying the dining room quickly while she ties her apron around her waist. Yeong-i bumps him with her hip and rolls her eyes, leaning in close to Si-eun’s ear.
“Table eleven,” He mutters, patting Si-eun’s shoulder. “Been making drinks for them since they came in. Careful, yeah?”
Si-eun sighs and nods, smoothing out his apron and making sure his hair is pushed back from his face. He’s lucky the bartender is his best friend, and that she’s always sure to warn Si-eun when she thinks a group is going to give him grief.
Si-eun is what they call a fairy, meaning he’s slim and curvy and quite visibly queer. Si-eun doesn’t mind the way he looks, finds it quite to his advantage sometimes, but with large groups of terribly loud and terribly brash soldiers, well, things can get a bit scary.
He tucks his notepad into the pocket of his apron and talks himself up a bit, squaring his shoulders and pushing through the door into the dining room with easy confidence. It’s loud, much louder than it has any right to be, because Korean are animals and Si-eun should know, his father is Korean...he is himself and it makes Si-eun’s blood boil.
“Hello,” He greets, waiting with his hip cocked until he gains the table’s attention. “Good evening. Can I help you?”
One of the soldiers at the outermost edge of the booth, a large man with a close cropped haircut and empty light brown eyes, looks him over quite obviously. Si-eun resists the urge to roll his eyes when the man chuckles, nudging the soldier next to him.
“Our little fairy’s back,” The soldier sneers, grinning a rather unsettling grin in Si-eun’s direction. “Thought we’d scared you off last night, but you came back for more, eh?” He says suggestively. The rest of the men laugh raucously, except for one in the very back corner of the booth. Si-eun pays the whole lot of them no mind.
“Anata ga shinde itara īnoni,” Si-eun hums sweetly, tapping his pen against his notepad. “Would you like to order now, or should I come back?”
“You askin’ me to come in the back?” The soldier jokes loudly, setting the rest of the table off again. Heads are turning throughout the pub and Si-eun rolls his eyes, dropping his notepad back into his apron and turns on his heel, marching back to the kitchen.
“Watashi wa son'na koto wa dekimasen! I cannot do this!” He groans, tugging at his hair. “Idiots, all of them!”
“All in a day’s work, Si-eun,” Yeong-i grins. She seems to have just come back inside from a smoke, her shirt cool when Si-eun drops his forehead against it. “Shigoto ni modorimasu, go on. You’ve handled them before,” She shrugs.
“Insufferable, all of them,” Si-eun mutters, toeing at the ground. “Fucking Koreans.”
Yeong-i pats his shoulder again and Si-eun takes a deep breath, turning around to head back out of the kitchen. There are groups of soldiers at nearly every table, but none are quite as drunk or rowdy as table eleven.
“Fairy’s back!” The soldier at the front calls, getting the other men’s attention. “Quickly, order before he flies off again!”
Si-eun clenches his jaw and scribbles down the orders as they’re thrown at him, wondering how hard it would be to convince Shin, the cook, to slip some rat poison into their food. One of the soldiers tries to pinch at Si-eun’s thigh and Si-eun steps back with a sigh, eyes falling on the one soldier at the back left corner of the booth.
The soldier’s eyes are sorrowful, boring into Si-eun’s own. Si-eun finds himself slightly captivated, intrigued by this one soldier he’s never seen before. The man, boy really, looks terribly apologetic, like he’s embarrassed by the way his comrades are treating Si-eun.
The soldier at the end lands a pinch on the outside of Si-eun’s thigh, just shy of his ass, and Si-eun breaks his eyes away from the eyes of the quiet soldier. He slaps the man’s hand away with his notebook and steps back again, narrowing his eyes.
“Omae wa butada, jigoku ni ochiro,” He says calmly, giving the man a tight smile. He glances back at the quiet soldier before he goes, seeing his eyes are a bit softer now, his lips pulled up in an almost smile. Si-eun wonders if he speaks Japanese, if he knows Si-eun just called his friend a pig and told him to go to hell.
He walks back to the kitchen to put the order in, and then does his rounds of the rest of the pub. They’re not usually very busy, which is why he’s the only waiter on tonight. They usually only have a couple of regulars on any given night, but since the Koreans came in earlier this week, they’ve been swamped every night. This is the only pub in the area that serves both good food and good liquor, which are two things Si-eun has learned Koreans take very seriously.
Every time Si-eun passes by table eleven, he can’t help but glance at the soldier in the far corner. He meets his eyes every single time, and every single time, the boy smiles at him. It seems genuine enough that Si-eun doesn’t feel threatened, not like he does with the other soldiers. The one with the light eyes gives Si-eun the creeps, makes him feel like he can’t turn his back for a second without being careful, like he’s going to get pinched or touched or hit or something at any given moment.
He’s able to deliver the food to table eleven mostly without incident, until the light eyed soldier reaches for his food with such ignorance for his surroundings that he sends his mixed drink flying, soaking through Si-eun’s trousers.
“Ah, tawagoto,” Si-eun mutters, doing his best not to glare at the now howling soldier. He finishes handing off the rest of the food to the men squished into the booth, handing a plate of fries to the quiet soldier in the corner last.
“Arigatō,” The soldier smiles sweetly, taking the plate from Si-eun halfway so he doesn’t have to reach as far. He’s definitely not Japanese; he speaks with a perfect Korean accent.
“Nandemonakatta,” Si-eun smiles back, straightening up and holding his tray against his hip. “Can I get you anything else?”
The soldiers are already too busy stuffing their faces to answer him, except the sweet one in the back. “No, thank you,” He says, eyes locked unwaveringly on Si-eun’s.
“Shout if you need anything,” Si-eun says, staring right back. It’s almost like he can’t look away; it takes actual effort to turn his face, pushing back through the door into the kitchen.
“Smoke break,” He calls to no one in particular, untying his apron and draping it over one of the pegs on the wall next to the door to the alley. He grabs his pack of smokes out of his rucksack and slips outside, leaning his back against the bricks between the door and the dumpster and pulling out a cigarette.
He pulls his lighter of his pocket and leans his head back against the bricks once his cigarette is lit, taking a long, slow drag. It clears his head a bit, the mixture of smoke and cool night air in his lungs. He doesn’t know what it is about the soldier with the pretty eyes that makes him feel so strange, like as long as the soldier’s eyes are on him Si-eun is safe and free.
Si-eun is neither safe nor free, though, especially not at a time like this. The war is happening now, all around them, even though these soldiers have yet to go to battle. Si-eun’s never been safe, just because of who he is, who he’s always been. He doesn’t have a sob story, wasn’t beaten and ridiculed every day in school by the other boys, but he always knew it was a possibility, because he was different. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized exactly why he was different, but he knew everyone else had always been able to tell.
He gets about halfway through his cigarette before the door pushes open, making him jump a bit. A broad figure pushes out into the dark, eyes locking on Si-eun.
Si-eun sees the uniform first, and his heart gives a painful jolt and speeds up considerably. This is it, this is how he’ll die, at the hands of some shitty Korean just because he likes men. Fuck.
He puts his cigarette back in his mouth and tries to play it cool, tries to hide how rigid his back is against the brick wall. The soldier draws nearer and Si-eun breathes out slowly, blowing his smoke directly into the man’s face.
When the smoke clears, the soldier is close enough that the light over Si-eun’s head catches the man’s eyes. They glint, warm and curious, and Si-eun unclenches.
“Hi,” The soldier says, his voice quiet. “You speak English, right?”
“Enough,” Si-eun shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette. He keeps quiet, curious to see where this is going.
“My name is Su-ho,” The soldier says slowly, like he’s afraid Si-eyn will have trouble understanding him. “I’m sorry about how the other soldiers treat you,” He frowns.
Si-eun laughs lightly, blowing his smoke up at the sky. He watches the moon for a moment and then pushes away from the wall, turning to face Su-ho.
He’s tall, having only seen him crammed into a four person booth with eight men. He’s broad, with wide sturdy shoulders and tiny little ears. He stands hunched over a little, like he’s inherently nervous. Si-eun wants to see him relaxed, happy.
He reaches up and sticks his cigarette between Su-ho’s lips, patting his chest firmly as he slips back through the door. He’s cold, he realizes, once he gets back into the heat of the kitchen. His pants are still wet from the drink that got spilled, and his fingertips are a little bit numb as he slinks into a corner away from the door, watching as it swings back open.
Su-ho’s eyes sweep over the room, but somehow they don’t land on Si-eun. He only gets a moment, anyway, before Shin spots him, and starts swatting at him and yelling in Japanese. Su-ho jumps and scurries right out of the kitchen, and Si-eun watches him with a smile. He’s endeared, for some reason, by this gentle soldier with the soft eyes and the pink, pink lips. Su-ho catches his eye every time he walks past table eleven for the rest of the night, right up until Si-eun has to kick them all out at closing time.
Drunk soldiers are terrifying, but Su-ho is not. He sends Si-eun one more little smile and then they’re all gone, the whole lot of them, and Si-eun finds he can’t stop thinking about him until long after he gets back to his home.
When Si-eun gets work the following night, he’s genuinely not expecting to see Su-ho again.
He’s with the same group of soldiers, unfortunately, albeit the group is a bit smaller. The light eyed buffoon is present, but they seem to be down a few of their other rowdy mates. Si-eun isn’t too terribly sorry.
Su-ho is in the back corner again, but since there are only four of them this time, he looks marginally more comfortable. They start in immediately with the crude comments, but Si-eun just tells them sweetly to all go and fuck themselves, and then takes their orders and is off. Su-ho watches him the entire time with an expression of mixed fascination and amusement. Si-eun tells his friend very graphically in Japanese to eat shit and die, and Su-ho just grins and says nothing.
After Si-eun get their food to them, he slips out to the alley for a smoke break. He wonders if Su-ho will follow him again, wonders how Su-ho even knew where to find him last night, and if maybe he’ll do it again. He smokes through one cigarette and snuffs it out under his shoe, pulling out another and lighting it with his face tipped up toward the sky.
A cool breeze ruffles his clothes and he shivers, hunching down a little and breathing the smoke out slowly. He takes exactly three drags before the door opens, and he glances over to find Su-ho approaching him sheepishly.
“Kon'nichiwa,” Su-ho smiles, rubbing at the edge of his jaw. “Ah, sorry. Don’t know much Japanese.”
“Sore wa daijōbu, it’s alright,” Si-eun nods. “I learned English in school, when I was young. Think I still remember,” He shrugs.
“God, your accent is so pretty,” Su-ho sighs, leaning sideways against the wall next to Si-eun. “What is it about different accents that makes them so nice to listen to? Do you find my accent attractive?” He asks curiously.
“No,” Su-ho grins, glancing over at him. “It is quite ugly, actually. I used to think Korea was amazing, you know, from how everyone talks about it. But from what I’ve seen of its people, at least its soldiers,” He trails off, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I agree,” Su-ho grunts, slumping back against the wall. “Don’t tell the others I said that, though. They all take this bullshit very seriously.”
“Bullshit?” Si-eun frowns, watching Su-ho’s face.
“Ridiculousness,” Su-ho clarifies. “The insanity that is war.”
“I know what bullshit means,” Si-eun grins, chuckling when Su-ho blushes. “But you are a soldier, aren’t you supposed to love war?”
Su-ho scoffs, rubbing at his eyes. “Who could love war?”
The noise from inside the pub swells through the walls, the soldiers shouting and cheering about something. “Your friends, I think,” Si-eun says softly.
“No,” Su-ho says, solemn suddenly. “No. What a horrible thing. They tell us it’s necessary, it’s our duty, to be men of Korea we must serve our blessed country. Fucking bullshit,” He mutters, glaring down at his boots.
Si-eun falls quiet for a moment, taking a drag of his cigarette and holding the smoke in his lungs too long. “Smoke?” He asks quietly on the exhale, holding the box out to Su-ho.
“I don’t, thank you,” Su-ho says, waving his hand in refusal. Si-eun quietly slips the pack into his back pocket.
“Are you brave, Su-ho?” Si-eun asks suddenly, turning to look at him.
“Brave?” Su-ho frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”
“You seem brave,” Si-eun decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” He assures, touching Su-ho’s arm gently.
“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Su-ho smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”
Si-eun curls his fingers around Su-ho’s wrist, admiring for a moment the warmth of Su-ho’s skin under his fingertips. “Uso o tsukanaide,” Si-eun breathes, “Do not tell me lies.”
Su-ho frowns, looking down at Si-eun’s face. “But I–”
“Shh, no,” Si-eun shakes his head. “You are brave, the bravest soldier I have met. Your friends, they are so mean, but they are only mean because they are okubyōmono, they are cowards. You are not a coward, Su-ho,” He smiles softly.
Su-ho watches him with something akin to wonder on his face, shaking his head. “You don’t even know me,” He muses, smiling when Si-eun draws back.
“I don’t need to,” Si-eun hums, letting go of his wrist and patting his hand gently. “I have to get back to work now,” He says.
“Of course,” Su-ho nods, but he catches Si-eun’s wrist when he tries to slip back through the door. “Thank you, Si-eun, for thinking I’m brave.”
“Do not thank me,” Si-eun says, pulling open the door and gently pulling his wrist free from Su-ho’s grip, “Show me.”
Su-ho watches him until he’s back inside, and Si-eun feels like he’s full of melting butter. No, he doesn’t really know Su-ho, but he wants to. Maybe these soldiers aren’t as bad as Si-eun originally thought.
Si-eun doesn’t work the next day, or the day after that. He mostly just holes up in his home during his free time, reading all the books he never has time to read and playing all his favorite records.
He loves his little house so much. It has a beautiful little balcony off the main living area that looks out over the village, and it’s really too cold this time of year, but Si-eun likes to eat his breakfast out there at the quaint wicker set he got from his grandmother. If it’s not too freezing, he’ll curl up on the little outdoor chair after breakfast with a blanket and a book, or he’ll head back inside to turn on the Edith Piaf record his mom gave him for his birthday last year and make some tea.
He’s only twenty-six, but for 1940’s Tokyo, he’s hardly anything to show for it. He never quite finished school, opting instead to stay home and help care for his nephew when his sister passed away. He’s mostly grown now, or at least grown enough that he don’t need his help anymore, and Si-eun finally been able to get his own place and start to try and build a life for himself.
He’s been working at the bar now for over a year. It’s the best work he can find to pay the bills, even if it’s quite shit. He’s always fancied working with kids, or maybe being an actor. He has these dreams, sometimes, late at night. Big dreams, fantastic ones. He wants so much out of the world, but the world doesn’t seem keen on giving him anything in its current state.
Regardless, two days off means a double shift at the bar, which means he’s there for both the lunch and dinner rush, which means he has ample opportunity to be harassed by rude soldiers. He just hopes the sweet soldier with the pretty eyes is there; he always makes Si-eun’s shift just a little bit more bearable.
“Hey,” He calls to Yeong-i, pushing through the front door of the bar and past the bar. “Are you here all night?”
“Unfortunately,” Yeong-i smiles miserably, running her rag over the bar top. “And you?”
“All night,” Si-eun trots to the back of the bar to the kitchen. The bar is nearly empty, which is why he’s being so free; he wouldn’t dare to be as flamboyant and loud if he was in a room full of dirty soldiers.
He pushes through the door to the kitchen and hangs his bag on his hook, grabbing his apron and tying it around his waist. He’s the only waiter on again today, he realizes, as he watches the other pack up and escape out to the door to the alley.
He brushes his hair out of his face and sighs, grabbing his notepad and pen and dropping them into the pocket of his apron. It’s going to be a long fucking night, he’s sure of it.
The evening doesn’t start to get interesting until Si-eun has already been on the clock for six hours.
Nearly every table in the bar is full, though it’s not quite as busy as it usually is. It’s swamped, of course, but tonight the booths aren’t overflowing like they are most nights. It’s relatively quiet, as well, which probably means something happened with the war today.
He doesn’t like to keep up with the news. It’s not because he doesn’t care, it’s because he cares too much. The news makes him cry, especially now when the only stories he hears are of death and destruction and people his age dying in acts of senseless violence.
He’s careful not to ask anyone what’s going on, why all the soldiers look a tad more miserable than usual this evening. He takes orders and delivers food and tries not to pass out, dead tired for having been on his feet all day without pause.
There’s a single table open when Si-eun goes into the kitchen, table one, but by the time he comes out there’s someone sitting there. The tables in the center of the pub are smaller, with two chairs each, but this soldier appears to be sitting alone. He has a drink in front of him that he’s hunched over, stirring it with his little finger.
Si-eun has three tables to deliver food to before he can make his way over to the lonely soldier, and he just about drops into the chair across from him when he gets there.
“Kon’nichiwa,” He says tiredly. The soldier looks up at him and Si-eun spots the eyes, the ones he may have been searching for all night. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Hi,” Su-ho smiles, sitting up a little. “Where have you been? I’ve come in the past two days, and you haven’t been here,” He says, like Si-eun doesn’t know.
“My days off,” Si-eun smiles back, bending his knees a bit to crack them. “Can I get you anything?”
Su-ho places a small order and Si-eun sets off, trying not to smile too wide at the thought of Su-ho coming in here and looking for him. It’s so much nicer to see him without his asshole soldier friends, Si-eun thinks, and he wishes it wasn’t so busy and maybe that he wasn’t working so they could have a proper chat. Si-eun thinks Su-ho probably has a lot of lovely things to say. He’d love to hear them all.
He waits on a few more tables before Su-ho is ready, and by then, there’s enough of a lull that he thinks he could probably sneak in a quick smoke break. He brings Su-ho’s plate to him with a smile, placing it down in front of him gingerly.
“Thank you,” Su-ho says, watching him. “Have you been working long?”
“All day,” Si-eun smiles tiredly, shaking his head. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m good,” Su-ho says, glancing down at his food. “Are you the only waiter tonight?”
“Just me,” Si-eun says, brushing his hair back. He’s sweating just a bit. “Probably going to try and sneak in a quick smoke break, maybe you’ll find your way out back like you always seem to?” He teases.
Su-ho laughs and blushes a little, popping a fry into his mouth. “I know where to find you.”
“You do,” Si-eun nods, backing away from the table with a grin and heading back for the kitchen. He swaps his apron out for his pack of cigarettes and all but falls out into the alley, lowering his aching body to the floor against the opposite wall and sighing at the relief.
His back is absolutely killing, as are his feet. He’s dead tired, as well, and he still has about five hours left of his shift.
He takes a cigarette from his pack with slow fingers and places it between his lips, leaning his head back against the wall once it’s lit. He lets his eyes fall closed and breathes in the smoke, blowing it out like he’s afraid of losing it.
It’s no time at all before the door across from him opens, and he smiles as he hears boots step out onto the pavement. He doesn’t open his eyes until Su-ho clears his throat, peering up at him through his eyelashes.
“What a surprise,” Si-eun smiles, as Su-ho lowers himself to the ground across from him, their feet nearly touching. “You found me.”
“Told you I would,” Su-ho chuckles, folding his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees.
“Watashi wa shiawasedesu,” Si-eun smiles, taking a long drag of his cigarette.
Su-ho just blinks when Si-eun blows the smoke in his face, lips twitching like he wants to smile. “Why do you smoke?” He asks curiously, watching him take another drag.
“Stress, fuan,” Si-eun hums. “Lots going on in the world to be anxious about, Su-ho,” He smiles sadly, putting the cigarette back between his lips.
“Tell me about it,” Su-ho chuckles bitterly. “Did you hear what happened today?”
Si-eun flinches, holding the smoke in his lungs for too long before letting it out. Su-ho must be able to tell that he doesn’t want to hear it, because he falls silent and reaches out for Si-eun’s cigarette as soon as he takes it out of his mouth.
Si-eun watches through hooded eyes as Su-ho raises the cigarette to his lips, going cross eyed as he tries to watch it. Si-eun lets the smoke filter out of his smiling lips, watching Su-ho take a drag.
He starts coughing immediately, passing the cigarette back to Si-eun. Si-eun erupts with laughter, watching him, and stubs the cigarette out on the pavement beside his knee.
“That’s horrible,” Su-ho coughs, fanning his eyes like he’s crying. “The taste, the smell, everything. How do you do that?”
“Started young,” Si-eun shrugs, opening his pack for a new one but then deciding against it and putting the pack back in his pocket. “It takes getting used to,” He says.
Su-ho just scoffs and mumbles to himself a bit, and Si-eun smiles up at the moon. “I should get back to work,” He sighs, but he doesn’t move until Su-ho gets up and reaches down to help him onto his feet.
“You seem so tired,” Su-ho frowns, “Isn’t there anyone who can cover the last few hours for you?”
“Just me,” Si-eun smiles, trying to appear perky. “But it is okay, really. There could be worse things I have to do,” He mutters, glancing down at Su-ho’s uniform.
Su-ho looks down as well, and then purses his lips. Si-eun watches his face, suddenly noticing how close they are. Su-ho is still holding his hand after helping him up, and Si-eun squeezes his fingers a little to get his attention.
When their eyes meet, the combination of the moon and the yellow lamp over their heads turns Si-eun’s eyes the most spectacular shade of brown, almost like gems. Su-ho’s lips part and Si-eun can’t help himself, leaning in and kissing him without a second of hesitation.
Su-ho kisses back just as quickly, dropping Si-eun’s hand and holding his waist instead. Si-eun’s hands snake up to Su-ho’s chest and rest there, flat over his pecs, feeling his heart racing through his thick uniform.
Su-ho presses him back into the wall and Si-eun goes easily, his hands travelling up to Su-ho’s head. There’s not much hair to grip onto so Si-eun holds the back of his neck, scratching at his hairline until Su-ho shivers and pulls away.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I laid eyes on you,” Su-ho breathes, his forehead pressed to Si-eun’s.
“Motto hayaku yatte okeba yokatta,” Si-eun whispers back, “I wish you had done it sooner.”
Su-ho grins and kisses him again, quickly. “I like when you speak Japanese. I also like when you kiss me. Can we do this again? You speak Japanese and I’ll kiss you?” He chuckles, cheeks pinked from either the cold or the moment.
“I would love to,” Si-eun sighs, pecking Su-ho’s lips once more. “I really need to get back to work now.”
“Yeah, okay,” Su-ho mutters, pulling away and straightening Si-eun’s shirt for him. “Will you be working tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Si-eun grins, straightening out Su-ho’s clothes in return. “I will see you then.”
Su-ho grins back at him and Si-eun slips away, hurrying back through the door and throwing his apron on. He’s back out in the dining room doing his rounds by the time Su-ho slips back through the kitchen door, heading casually back to his table.
Si-eun finds excuses to visit Su-ho’s table for the rest of the night, bringing him glasses of water and dessert on the house. Su-ho stays until Si-eun has to kick him out at close, and on his way out promises to be back tomorrow.
The following night Su-ho stays even after close, loitering outside the bar until Si-eun finally gets out.
He’d come around lunchtime with his idiot friends, who berated and abused Si-eun just as relentlessly as always. He left with them and came back alone for dinner, and this time Si-eun wasn’t the only waiter working, so they got a bit more time to chat.
Si-eun really isn’t expecting Su-ho to still be outside when he finally gets out; it’s cold, and it’s been over an hour since Si-eun kicked him out so they could start closing. When Si-eun walks out the door, though, Yeong-i to his left and Shin the cook locking the door behind him, an army uniform catches his eye from across the street and he pauses.
“Si-eun?” Yeong-i hums, nudging him with her elbow. “Still coming back to mine for drinks?”
“Uh,” Si-eun mutters, dragging his eyes away from where Su-ho is straightening up from leaning against a lamppost. “Gonna pass, actually, bit tired,” He lies, glancing over at Yeong-i.
“Alright,” Yeong-i shrugs, already setting off down the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “Careful walking home, yeah?”
“Yeah, you too,” Si-eun calls, waiting until she’s rounded the corner before jogging across the street to where Su-ho is waiting. “Anata wa, mada koko ni imasu, you’re still here,” He smiles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and watching Su-ho through his eyelashes.
“Told you I’d wait for you,” Su-ho shrugs, grinning at him.
“You are crazy,” Si-eun laughs, shaking his head. “You must be freezing!”
“Quite, actually,” Su-ho nods. “Can we go somewhere?”
“My home,” Si-eun says, nodding his head down the street. “Come, then.”
Su-ho has to jog a bit to catch up with him when he sets off down the street, but Su-ho’s strides are a lot longer and it doesn’t take him very much effort. “Hey,” Su-ho says, bumping his arm gently.
“Hey,” Si-eun hums, smiling down at his feet. It’s not snowing yet, but it smells like it’s going to, the air crisp and cold against his face.
“I’m sorry, again, for how the other guys treat you,” Su-ho says quietly. “They’re so terrible.”
“Terrible,” Si-eun agrees, accent heavy. “But it’s okay. Their words cannot hurt me,” He says cheerily.
“How are you so positive? I’d be crushed, you know, if anyone knew I was–” He cuts himself off, head snapping around as if to check if anyone’s listening.
“You get used to it,” Si-eun shrugs. “Sore ga genjitsu sa, it is what it is.”
They’re quiet for a bit, until they get to Si-eun’s. The building isn’t very tall, only five stories, and it’s a short walk up the stairs to Si-eun’s home on the third floor.
Si-eun heads straight for the fireplace when they get in, tossing in a few pieces of wood and striking a match to get the place warmed up. It’s always so cold when he comes home, he wishes he could afford electric heat.
Su-ho explores a bit while Si-eun heads to the kitchen, making himself a sandwich for his late dinner. It’s nearly midnight now, and he hasn’t eaten since before work.
Su-ho ends up tending to the fire while Si-eun eats, which is perfect, because by the time Si-eun is done the fire is roaring, and Su-ho looks quite pleased with himself.
“I’ve never lit a fire in a fireplace before, believe it or not,” He boasts, settling down on the sofa beside Si-eun. “I come from Chiang Mai, Northern Thailand, doesn’t get very cold there.”
“I thought you were from South Korea?” He shakes his head. “Forget that. It doesn’t get cold in Chiang Mai?” Si-eun frowns. “Doesn’t the north get cold?”
“The north gets cold, yeah,” Su-ho chuckles, “But Northern Thailand is in the south. It gets cold, kinda, but not cold enough for a fire,” He explains.
Si-eun shakes his head again, dumbfounded. “Northern Thailand is in the south?” He blinks.
Su-ho laughs, his eyes bright. “Never mind. I like your apartment,” He says, gesturing around the living they’re sitting in.
“My who?” Si-eun frowns again, shaking his head with a sigh. “Enough English. Ima kisushite mo ī?”
Su-ho’s face flickers with confusion, but he gets the gist when Si-eun starts leaning in. Su-ho grins and kisses him, pressing him back against the sofa. Si-eun rearranges them slightly so that he’s laying down, Su-ho sprawled out on top of him, licking nearly down his throat.
Si-eun’s kissed a lot of guys, of course. Being pretty as a guy can help quite a bit with catching men’s attention, and from there coaxing them into bed. Su-ho seems inexperienced, though, uncomfortable with liking this so much, and Si-eun smiles against his lips.
“Have you kissed a lot of boys, Su-ho?” He asks, pulling away from the kiss and fingering at the back of Su-ho’s uniform, trying to touch skin.
“Not too many,” Su-ho mutters, sitting up to shrug off his outer jacket and untucking his t-shirt from his trousers so Si-eun’s wandering fingers can struggle less. “Hard to find boys to kiss in the army.”
Si-eun muses, slipping his hand up the back of Su-ho’s shirt and drawing him down again. “What about you?” Su-ho asks, voice getting breathy as Si-eun’s fingers trail up and down his spine. “Kissed a lot of cute Japanese boys?”
“Japanese boys,” Si-eun nods, pushing Su-ho to sit up a bit again so he can slip his hand around to his front, tickling lightly over his abs muscles. “Thai boys, an English boy, once,” He smiles. “But you’re my first Korean boy,” He admits.
“I’m honored,” Su-ho laughs, grabbing Si-eun’s wrist to pull his hand out of his shirt and pinning it to the sofa instead. “Can I kiss you again now?”
“Hai,” Si-eun grins, eyes fluttering closed as Su-ho swoops back down. Su-ho kisses the breath right out of his lungs, and by the time he pulls away Si-eun can’t keep still.
“Beddorūmu, dōzo, beddorūmu ni ikimashou,” He whines, pressing his hips up against Su-ho’s. He doesn’t feel like translating to English at the moment, hopes Su-ho can figure it out.
“God, I hope you’re saying bedroom,” Su-ho breathes, scrambling off the sofa and scooping Si-eun up into his arms.
They’re kissing again as Su-ho stumbles around the couch and through the kitchen, nearly depositing Si-eun into the toilet instead of the bedroom, which is the next door over. They figure it out, eventually, and Si-eun ends up on his back in his bed, Su-ho’s body fitting easily between his legs.
Clothes come off without hurry, Su-ho’s t-shirt first and then the blue button down Si-eun had gone to work in. Su-ho’s uniform pants come off with a bit of a struggle, but Si-eun’s pants go easy, and then they’re skin to skin with only their boxers between them, and Si-eun scratches lightly at the back of Su-ho’s neck.
Su-ho rolls his hips down against Si-eun’s, their lips still locked. Si-eun breaks away with a small gasp, dragging his nails down Su-ho’s back when Su-ho rolls his hips a little more forcefully.
“Watashi o fakku,” He whimpers, hooking his ankles together behind Su-ho and grinding up against him. “Oh, onegaishimasu.”
Su-ho looks down at him and rocks his hips again, watching his face. Si-eun bites his lip and tilts his head back, wondering if Su-ho can tell how hard he is.
Su-ho smirks and Si-eun whines, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Su-ho-ya, please.”
“In Japanese,” Su-ho insists, pushing Si-eun’s arm away from his face. “Say it in Japanese, please.”
“Onegai,” Si-eun rushes, lifting his hips easily for Su-ho to slide his boxers off. “Onegai, onegai–”
Su-ho sinks down and wraps his mouth around his cock, successfully silencing Si-eun’s voice. He licks experimentally at Si-eun’s head a few times and then looks up at him expectantly, and Si-eun’s mouth kicks back into action.
“Totemo kimochigaī, Su-ho, onegai, motto,” He moans, reaching down to rub his hand over Su-ho’s hair. It’s just barely long enough for Si-eun to lock his fingers in. “Watashi wa anata ga watashi o fakku shitaidesu, Su-ho...”
Su-ho sucks him down halfway, hard, bobbing his head quickly. He’s inexperienced, but he’s good, and all Si-eun can do is whine. “Onegai, Su-ho, please,” He breathes.
Su-ho moans softly around him and pulls off, even as Si-eun tries as hard as he can to push him back down. He kisses up Si-eun’s stomach and wraps his hand around Si-eun’s wet cock, Si-eun’s eyes rolling back in his head.
“Yamenaide ne,” Si-eun pants, fucking up into Su-ho’s hand. “Su-ho, please, don’t stop.”
“That’s it,” Su-ho hums, voice deep and vibrating through Si-eun’s entire being. “Let me see.”
It takes another minute and a few more slow, torturous strokes of Su-ho’s fist before he lets go, shaking as he cums all over Su-ho’s hand. He turns his head to bite into his pillow and rolls his hips into Su-ho’s hand until he’s done, whining soft and high.
“Arigatō,” He breathes, melting into the bed as Su-ho climbs back up on top of him, kissing him thoroughly. Su-ho fucks quickly against his leg, kissing at his neck and grunting softly in his ear.
“Sugoku jōzu...ne...hontō ni kimochi yokatta yo...” Si-eun purrs, sliding his hand down Su-ho’s back to get a handful of his ass. “Anata wa totemo atsuidesu, Su-ho, cum for me,” He breathes, slipping his hand inside Su-ho’s boxers and digging his nails into his skin.
Su-ho cums, soaking through his boxers and biting into Si-eun’s neck. Si-eun cries out but it only seems to spur Su-ho on, his hips moving wildly until finally he seems to calm down.
“Fuck,” Su-ho breathes, settling heavily on top of Si-eun. Si-eun is only a little bit squished.
“Maybe next time you can actually get it inside me,” Si-eun muses, “Or at least out of your pants.”
Su-ho laughs, but he’s blushing when he picks his head up. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”
“Mm, I suppose it was okay,” Si-eun teases, scratching at Su-ho’s scalp to lure him up into a kiss. “Can you stay?”
“I should get back,” Su-ho winces, glancing at the clock on Si-eun’s bedroom wall. “You mentioned a next time, though?” He asks hopefully.
“Next time, pretty boy,” Si-eun grins, pushing Su-ho off of him. “I better see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, you will,” Su-ho smiles, getting up and reaching for his uniform trousers. “Um, mind if I steal a pair of boxers? Mine are a bit gross,” He says, cheeks flushing.
“Top drawer of the, um,” Si-eun waves his hand uselessly at his dresser, “Can’t think. Lock the door on your way out, please,” He mumbles.
Su-ho quietly goes about changing out of his pants and back into his uniform, and when Si-eun is just about asleep, he leans over and pecks his cheek gently.
“Thank you for this,” He whispers. “This was nice.”
“Mm,” Si-eun hums, smiling sleepily. “Jal gara, Su-ho-ya.”
Su-ho chuckles quietly and kisses at the shell of Si-eun’s ear, pulling the covers up and over him. He sneaks out without another word; Si-eun can hear him tend to the fire a bit, and then hears the lock click when he finally lets himself out.
He falls asleep quickly, warm and sated and happy and only a little bit lonely.