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Seongje lights his second cigarette before the first one’s even halfway done. His knee bounces under the low table, smoke curling up toward the ceiling fan that’s not even on. Sieun frowns immediately, waving his hand through the haze.
“Yah, smoking inside is forbidden,” Sieun says, voice sharp.
Seongje takes a long drag, exhales deliberately slow, right in his direction, then smirks. “What’re you gonna do? Fine me?”
“Asshole,” Sieun mutters, but he leans back, defeated. Everyone knows when Seongje gets like this, there’s no stopping him. He’s not shouting, not throwing punches, but the silence around him feels dangerous. That’s worse than any tantrum could be.
Juntae sits beside him, small frame half-hidden under Seongje’s black hoodie, hands fiddling nervously with the hem. His cheeks are burning red, even redder than when Seongje kissed him in front of the gang last week just to shut Baku up. Right now, though, he looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole.
Because Suho opened his big mouth.
It happens like this: they’re all eating at this tiny barbecue place, crowded around the grill. Baku is making a mess of the pork belly, Hyuntak keeps stealing the best pieces, and Suho, in the middle of a stupid story, says it like a throwaway line.
“—kind of like when Hyuntak was Juntae’s first kiss.”
The chopsticks in Seongje’s hand snap clean in half.
At first, nobody reacts. Not because they didn’t hear, but because the table collectively stops breathing. Even the sizzling on the grill sounds too loud. Then Suho blinks at the silence, looks around, and his face slowly drains of color.
“…What?” Seongje’s voice is low. Too low.
Suho laughs nervously, scratching his neck. “Oh… shit.”
“I didn’t know it was a secret!” Suho blurts, hands up.
Baku chokes on his drink, wheezing. “You—you didn’t know—Suho, you idiot—”
And just like that, the table implodes.
Baku is laughing so hard he’s pounding the table. Sieun’s jaw drops. Hyuntak is coughing, furious and red. Suho keeps babbling apologies. And in the middle of it all, Seongje just stares at Juntae.
His Juntae.
Who is shrinking into his hoodie, face scarlet, lips pressed tight like maybe if he doesn’t speak, he’ll vanish.
Seongje crushes his cigarette, grabs another, lights it with steady hands. That calmness is scarier than if he’d flipped the table.
“You.” His eyes lock on Hyuntak. “Explain.”
Hyuntak nearly tips over his chair. “What the fuck do you mean, explain? It was years ago!”
“Explain,” Seongje repeats, sharper this time, smoke spilling from his lips. “When. Why. How.” His gaze flickers to Juntae’s mouth, then back to Hyuntak with something feral in his eyes. “And was it good.”
The table erupts again.
“Hyuntak!” Baku howls, “you’re so dead!”
“Seongje—calm the hell down!” Sieun hisses.
Suho hides behind his hands. “I swear I didn’t know—”
But Seongje doesn’t even blink. He leans back, legs spread wide, one arm casually slung behind Juntae’s chair, claiming him without saying it. The other hand brings the cigarette to his lips, deliberate, slow.
Hyuntak grits his teeth. “It was high school. Stupid. Don’t make it weird.”
“It’s already weird,” Seongje says flatly. “You put your cursed lips on him.” His voice dips, dangerous. “My Juntae.”
Juntae squeaks quietly, “S-Seongje—”
But Seongje doesn’t take his eyes off Hyuntak. “Didn’t know you kissed boys. Thought you were only gay for Baku. And you’re not even a couple yet.”
That gets the reaction he wants — chaos.
Baku nearly spits his food, yelling, “Yah! What the hell does that mean!”
Hyuntak slams his chopsticks down. “Shut your mouth, you psycho—”
Suho, desperate: “I swear I didn’t mean to say it out loud—”
Sieun, pinching his nose: “This is the dumbest dinner ever.”
And in the middle of it, Juntae tugs at Seongje’s sleeve, whispering, “It’s not—it wasn’t—please don’t be mad…”
Seongje finally looks at him, and everything softens. Just like that. His expression, his posture, the smoke curling from his cigarette is the only sharp thing left. Juntae’s big eyes are glossy with embarrassment, lips trembling like he’s about to apologize for something he doesn’t need to.
“I should’ve told you,” Juntae says quietly, so soft only Seongje can hear it over the chaos. “Instead of you learning it like this.”
And damn it. That melts him.
His hand drops from the cigarette, reaching instead to brush his knuckles down Juntae’s cheek, thumb lingering at his jaw. “Should’ve,” he agrees. “But not your fault.”
The others notice immediately.
Baku makes gagging noises. “He’s so soft for him, oh my god.”
Sieun smirks. “Our scary dog’s got a leash now.”
Hyuntak scowls. “Unbelievable.”
Seongje shoots them a glare so cold the table goes quiet again. Except for Juntae, who leans into his touch without hesitation.
“My poor little Juntae,” Seongje murmurs, just loud enough. “First kiss stolen by cursed lips like Hyuntak’s. Unforgivable.”
“Unforgivable?!” Hyuntak explodes. “It was a stupid high school thing—”
“Unforgivable,” Seongje repeats, voice like steel. He presses a kiss to Juntae’s temple, slow, deliberate, while staring straight at Hyuntak. “I’ll just have to make him forget.”
The table is frozen. Juntae is crimson. And Seongje? He lights another cigarette.
The questions keep coming. He doesn’t let it go.
“When was it?” Drag. “Where?” Exhale. “Why?” Drag. “How long?”
Hyuntak is practically frothing. “It was years ago! It meant nothing!”
Seongje smirks. “So it was bad.”
“Yah!” Hyuntak slams the table.
“Answer the question,” Seongje presses, smoke curling around his smirk. “Was it good?”
Juntae finally grabs his wrist, desperate. “Seongje, stop—please—it doesn’t matter.”
But Seongje just stares at him, and his voice drops low, only for him: “It matters to me.”
Juntae’s face softens. He whispers, “You’re the only one who matters now. Isn’t that enough?”
And for a moment, the cigarette trembles in Seongje’s fingers.
The gang groans in unison at the gooeyness. Baku actually gets up to grab more soju, muttering about how he can’t survive this sober. Sieun smacks Suho on the back of the head for starting this mess. Hyuntak sulks like he’s been personally cursed.
But Seongje? He leans down, presses a kiss to Juntae’s lips, slow, claiming, possessive.
When he pulls back, he smirks at the table. “See? Erasing your mistake already.”
The others groan like a chorus of disgusted men. Sieun mutters, “You’re insufferable.” Baku knocks back his soju, nearly choking from laughing too hard. Suho sinks into his seat like maybe disappearing will save him.
But Seongje doesn’t care. His arm is heavy and protective across the back of Juntae’s chair, his smoke curling lazy circles into the air. Soft for his Juntae? Always. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to strangle Hyuntak for daring—daring—to have been first.
His voice cuts through the noise, low and sharp. “I’m asking again. When did it happen. And why.”
Hyuntak throws his hands up, exasperated. “I told you—”
But before he can finish, Juntae blurts out, “Stop.”
Every head swivels toward him. His face is bright red, his ears almost glowing, hands clutching at the hem of Seongje’s hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
“I’ll… I’ll tell him,” Juntae says, voice quiet but steady. “Don’t yell at Hyuntak. It wasn’t… it wasn’t his fault.”
Seongje softens instantly, eyes narrowing not at Juntae but at Hyuntak, who looks like he’d rather bolt. “Go on,” he urges gently, eyes never leaving his boyfriend.
Juntae swallows hard. “It was… before the end of the Union.” His voice is small, careful, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. He stares down at the table, twisting his chopsticks in his hands, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.
“One night I… drank too much. First time in my life.” He pauses, cheeks burning. “I didn’t know what else to do. I just… I felt so alone back then. Everyone was fighting, and I was scared all the time—scared something would happen to Sieun, or Baku, or Hyuntak. I thought maybe if I numbed myself, even just once, I wouldn’t feel it so heavy anymore.”
The table goes still. Even the ones who usually laugh everything off—Baku, Suho—don’t say anything.
Juntae swallows again, words tumbling out in a rush:
“I ended up outside a convenience store, sitting on the curb. And—” his eyes flick briefly toward Hyuntak, then away again— “he saw me from across the street. He came over.”
Seongje’s jaw tightens. His cigarette burns low between his fingers.
“He took care of me,” Juntae continues, voice trembling, “made sure I didn’t get into trouble. I… wanted to hug him to thank him. But I moved too fast, and he moved his head, and—” his blush deepens, his voice drops to a whisper, “it turned into… into that.”
The silence is deafening.
Juntae fidgets, tugging the sleeves over his hands. “I apologized for days. I couldn’t even look at him without turning red. Everyone noticed. I had to explain eventually. That’s how… that’s how they all found out. And then, months later—” he shoots Suho the tiniest glare— “Suho heard about it.”
“And now,” Juntae finishes miserably, “now you know.”
His face is scarlet, his shoulders hunched like he wants to disappear into the floor.
Seongje’s cigarette burns out between his fingers, forgotten. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Then he leans back, drapes an arm over Juntae’s chair again, his hand brushing the nape of his neck, soft and grounding.
“Cute,” he says simply.
Juntae blinks at him, startled.
But Seongje’s eyes cut back to Hyuntak, dark and dangerous. “Except it wasn’t an accident. You probably did it on purpose. Took advantage of him being drunk.”
Chaos. Immediate, explosive chaos.
“You’re insane!” Hyuntak shouts, slamming his hands on the table. “I didn’t take advantage of anyone!”
“Yeah, that’s not what happened!” Sieun snaps.
“Seongje, you’re making no sense,” Suho pleads.
Baku is howling with laughter. “Oh my god, he’s jealous! He’s actually jealous—”
“Of course I’m jealous,” Seongje snarls, cutting them all off. He points his cigarette at Juntae, who squeaks in mortification. “Look at him. Cute, soft, perfect. You think people don’t want him? Everyone probably wants to be his boyfriend.”
Juntae’s entire face goes nuclear red. “S-Seongje—!”
The gang groans, shouts, argues, but Seongje doesn’t hear them. His attention is on the boy shrinking beside him, clutching his sleeve, hiding behind his blush. His boy. His.
The air at the dinner table is already thick from the chaos of Suho’s accidental revelation, but it only gets worse — or better, depending on how much you enjoy watching Seongje slowly lose his mind.
Baku leans back in his chair, chewing lazily on a piece of meat before he says, almost too casually:
“Imagine if Seongje isn’t even Juntae’s first time in bed.”
The words drop like a grenade.
Seongje’s head snaps toward him so fast it’s a miracle his neck doesn’t crack. The look in his eyes is pure murder, cold, sharp, that dangerous stillness that always makes the others nervous. His jaw tightens, cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers as the smoke curls toward the ceiling.
“Repeat that,” Seongje says, voice flat, deadly quiet.
The table erupts into nervous laughter, everyone trying to defuse the bomb Baku just set off.
“Bro, he’s joking,” Sieun says quickly, side-eyeing Baku like he’s an idiot.
“Yeah, no one wants to die tonight,” Suho mutters under his breath.
But Baku grins, completely unfazed. “What? I’m just saying. It’d be funny if—”
He doesn’t finish. Because Juntae, red as a tomato and mortified out of his mind, slams his chopsticks down and blurts:
“Of course he’s my first time! I wouldn’t do that with anyone else!”
Silence. Stunned silence.
Then:
“Eugh, disgusting.” Hyuntak groans, pushing his plate away like he’s lost his appetite.
Suho covers his face with his hands. “I did not need to hear that.”
Sieun makes a strangled noise. “Seriously, keep that shit private.”
Only Seongje looks… smug. Dangerous, but smug. Like the wolf who just confirmed no one else has touched what’s his. He leans back, exhales smoke into the air, and smirks down at Juntae, who’s trying very hard not to combust on the spot.
But Juntae’s had enough of their shit. His voice, though still soft, cuts sharp across the table:
“At least we didn’t wait forever for someone to make a move.”
The words land like a slap, directed straight at Hyuntak and Baku.
Hyuntak chokes on his drink. “What the hell did you just say?”
Baku’s grin falters, then he bursts out laughing, half in disbelief. “This tiny guy just roasted us.”
The table explodes again but this time, not with tension. With chaos. Hyuntak arguing, Baku laughing so hard he nearly falls off his chair, Suho wheezing like he can’t breathe, Sieun facepalming into his hand like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Juntae is red all the way to his ears but shockingly refusing to back down, firing back at Hyuntak and Baku with shaky but sharp comebacks.
And in the middle of it all sits Seongje, cigarette dangling between his lips, watching with a look that says: that’s my boy.
He waits until the laughter dies down just enough. Then, like he’s been plotting it from the start, Seongje leans over, grabs Juntae by the collar of his oversized hoodie, and pulls him into a kiss right in front of everyone.
The chaos freezes for half a second.
When he pulls back, Seongje smirks, cigarette now hanging between his fingers instead. His voice is low, but the entire table hears it:
“Don’t care if I wasn’t your first. I’ll be your last.”
The table explodes again. This time with groans.
“Oh my god,” Baku says, gagging dramatically. “That’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard—”
“Gross,” Suho wheezes. “I think my ears just died.”
“Kill me now,” Hyuntak mutters, hiding his face in his hands.
Even Sieun looks like he aged ten years in one second. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like a bad drama line.”
But Juntae… Juntae just stares at him, lips parted, glasses sliding a little down his nose, his whole face a shade of crimson that rivals the hotpot in the center of the table. And when he finally finds his voice, it’s soft and shaky but honest:
“…I like it.”
That does it. Seongje stares at him for one heartbeat, two, and then he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray, grabs Juntae by the back of the head, and kisses him again, deeper this time.
And the best part? Juntae kisses him back.