Work Text:
“Long-ah, don’t be difficult.”
Two people loomed above Xinlong, throwing words at him that he understood perfectly well but refused to accept. Huffing, he folded his arms on his chest and faced away from them.
“You have to go home.”
He was sitting on the curb, the ground gritty and possibly vomit-stained, but he didn’t care. There were more important things to worry about—like the absolute need to let those two know how he felt. And how he felt was deeply offended.
He faced them, making his eyes the roundest, his pout the most pitiful, and pleaded, “Can’t I come with you?”
Leo sighed, shoulders sagging as he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. It was Sangwon who spoke, crouching to put himself at Xinlong’s eye level. “No, baby, sorry,” he said, the monster, and Xinlong felt like crying. Sangwon hurried to add, “But Geonwoo is coming! He’ll take you home, so you need to get up.”
Ugh. Geonwoo. Xinlong didn’t want to go with Geonwoo; he wanted to go with Leo and Sangwon. They were probably going to have so much fun at Leo’s place with his board games and the Switch (the Switch!!!!), and Geonwoo would force Xinlong to go to bed.
“I don’t want to go with Geonwoo,” he said. There was another reason why he didn’t want to go with Geonwoo, but it was buried underneath memories of all of the shots he’d had earlier that evening.
At that moment, a wave of dizziness took over him, and Xinlong wobbled in his spot, having to put a hand on the dirty ground to steady himself. Sangwon reached out with both hands, startled, ready to catch him if he fell, but Xinlong could handle himself. He was fine!
“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Leo said, monster number two. “He’s just around the corner.”
That was unfair. Why was Xinlong’s night being cut short? He knew for a fact that their friends were still inside dancing and drinking, so why was he being sent home like a kid outside past curfew? Anxin was still inside and he was younger!!!!
“You hate me,” he accused, stretching his legs out and looking at his own lap. He could feel his eyes watering, his bottom lip quivering.
Someone sighed—Leo, it had to be Leo. He hated Xinlong the most. Xinlong was about to tell them that when Sangwon stood up, and a new voice said, “Hi, I’m here. I had to park two blocks away; there were no spots nearby.”
It wasn’t exactly a new voice, Xinlong knew it very well. He’d been hearing that voice daily for the past four years, and most times, he was glad to hear it. Today, however, Xinlong wanted it to go away.
Geonwoo looked at him with those pretty, infuriating eyes, and Xinlong grunted, turning away. He tried actually rotating his body, but wobbled again, so he resorted to facing the other way.
“He’s all yours, man,” Leo said with an exhale. “It took us forever to haul him outside, he’s being a brat.”
Xinlong scowled at Leo, and spat, “You’re a brat!”
“You guys left him alone at the bar?”
“He’s a grown man, Geonwoo, he doesn’t need supervision.”
“We leave him in your capable hands.” Sangwon crouched down right in front of Xinlong again, making it impossible to avoid his eyes. “Bye, Longie. Drink lots of water, okay? Be nice to Geonwoo.”
Xinlong was too upset to reply to Sangwon. He looked at the ground and mumbled to himself about fake friendships and inconsiderate hyungs. Leo and Sangwon’s footsteps echoed for a few seconds, and then they went silent. Soon enough, Geonwoo was occupying Sangwon’s previous spot in front of Xinlong.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, voice too gentle for someone who was only there to ruin Xinlong’s night. “Ready to go home?”
“No,” Xinlong said petulantly. “I don’t want to go with you, you’re boring.”
Geonwoo snorted as if Xinlong had just told him a joke. “Sure. I’m still taking you home, though.”
Before Xinlong could retort and insist that he would not be going home, Geonwoo grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up. It was too sudden, Xinlong lost balance and almost went crashing down, but Geonwoo was quick to wrap an arm around his middle. “We’re going to walk a bit to the car, okay? Can you walk?”
Xinlong didn’t feel like cooperating, so he said, “No.”
Amusement colored Geonwoo’s voice when he replied, “No? Should I carry you bridal style? Piggyback?”
Piggyback sounded nice. Xinlong was tired, and his legs felt funny, but he didn’t want to admit that. “Shut up,” he said instead, his head resting on Geonwoo’s shoulder as he steered them towards his car.
Xinlong felt it when Geonwoo laughed, the slight shake of his shoulders, the sound of it soft on his ears. He wanted to close his eyes and take a quick nap. Maybe he should…
—
He wasn’t in his bed when he woke up.
The first thing his brain registered upon opening his eyes was the earth-shattering headache, pounding insistently on his temples. Then, it was the mattress. His was stiffer, less springy; the mattress he was lying on was soft and pillowy. He didn’t have to dwell much to figure out exactly where he was—the scent on the sheets was unmistakable. Cotton and lavender.
Dragging himself out of bed required Herculean effort; he had to sit up first, then keep himself from lying back down. He wore a plain white shirt that smelled the same as the bedsheets, as well as his own briefs.
Slowly, Xinlong pushed the bedroom door open. No sounds were coming from outside, so he padded out of the room and into the bathroom next door. One look in the mirror and he nearly screeched in horror. He looked like absolute death. Xinlong threw some water on his face, running wet hands through his mess of a hair, and once he thought it looked more like hair and less like a bird’s nest, he opened the small cabinet above the sink. Two toothbrushes sat in a mug—a green one and a blue one. He retrieved the green one, squeezing some toothpaste on it, and closed the cabinet. With his teeth clean, Xinlong gave his reflection one last inspection before finally going outside.
Geonwoo’s apartment wasn’t big; it was pretty much the living room slash kitchen, then the hallway leading to the bathroom and two bedrooms. The door to the spare room (the one Geonwoo used as an office) was closed, which often indicated that he was working inside. Xinlong knocked twice, carefully prying it open to peek inside.
Geonwoo was at his desk, back to the door, eyes on his several screens of codes and more codes that made him look as if he was running the Matrix from that tiny room. He had headphones on, so he definitely hadn’t heard Xinlong knocking.
“Hyung?” He tried once, to no avail. Scratching at the back of his head, Xinlong took a few more steps and placed a hand on Geonwoo’s shoulder. “Hyung.”
Pulling his headphones off, Geonwoo swirled around in his chair, meeting Xinlong’s eyes. He didn’t look as beat up as Xinlong, but there were traces of exhaustion on the lines of his face. He gave Xinlong a quick once-over, gaze lingering on his bare thighs for a few extra seconds before traveling back up. Xinlong shifted on his feet and clasped both hands together behind his back.
“Hey,” Geonwoo said. “How are you feeling?”
“Bit of a headache, but surprisingly okay,” Xinlong replied. “You picked me up last night?”
For a moment, Geonwoo just stared at him. He blinked, eventually, and nodded. “I did.”
Pouting, Xinlong stretched an arm over the backrest of Geonwoo’s chair. “I wanted to go to Leo’s to play Mario Kart.”
The look Geonwoo gave him was a long one, eyes dragging from the tips of Xinlong’s toes to the playful arch of his eyebrows.
“The only game Leo was willing to play last night was ‘press Sangwon’s buttons’,” Geonwoo deadpanned, and Xinlong punched him on the shoulder. They laughed, Xinlong a little bit louder than Geonwoo, but both let it fizzle out at the same time.
Xinlong held Geonwoo’s gaze for a while longer, and it suddenly hit him why they hadn’t spoken the day before.
“I thought you had a date,” he said, going for nonchalance.
Geonwoo didn’t falter. “I did.”
The news about this date came from a gaming group chat Xinlong was in with some of their friends. He didn’t want to come off as too bothered by it, so he didn’t ask too many questions. Context only came later, when they met for drinks the following weekend, and Sanghyeon teased Geonwoo about finally looking for someone to settle down.
“And… How was it?”
In half a second, Xinlong’s brain ran through several possible answers: ‘It was great, I’m definitely seeing her again!’, ‘Okay, we might be going on a second date’, or his personal favorite, ‘It sucked, going out was a mistake.’
Instead of any of the variants his brain had cooked, what Xinlong got was hands yanking him onto Geonwoo’s lap. He gasped, finding support on Geonwoo’s shoulder. “Hyung!”
Geonwoo, on the other hand, huffed a laugh, arm locked around Xinlong’s waist, keeping him in place as a hand came to rest on the side of his neck. The look in his eyes when they roamed over Xinlong’s face seemed as if he had something he was meant to say, but the words had somehow escaped him. His palm on Xinlong’s jaw, he leaned forward to peck at his lips.
Light, barely a kiss at all, and it still had Xinlong’s lips tingling warmly, is stomach swooping as Geonwoo leaned back to gaze at him. It only lasted a beat before he dived in to kiss Xinlong again, but this time he missed the mark and kissed Xinlong’s philtrum, awkwardly. Xinlong let out air through his nose, a near-laugh he tried to swallow down, and Geonwoo smiled as he tried again. Throughout it all, his thumb brushed Xinlong’s jaw, sliding down to his chin, holding it gently as he coaxed Xinlong closer.
The whole moment felt like it lasted a lifetime. Kissing Geonwoo always felt like this.
“So I take it the date did not go well?” Xinlong tried, doing his very best to look unaffected with Geonwoo’s hand rubbing at his hip.
Geonwoo seemed to have an inherent need to touch. As a rule, he always had something in his hold; objects available in the premises, his own shoulders (arms crossed over his chest, hands on shoulder blades), or other people. Xinlong was used to being on the receiving end of Geonwoo’s kneading and squeezing, fingers massaging the nape, gripping at arms. It was usually a mindless gesture, something Geonwoo did by rote, because he was tactile like that.
This, though, the way his hand sneaked underneath Xinlong’s shirt—Geonwoo’s shirt, that he had most probably changed Xinlong into last night—grip tight and possessive in a way that made Xinlong’s skin pebble… This kind of touch was a calculated choice.
He didn’t answer Xinlong’s question. Instead, Geonwoo put his mouth on him again, teeth scraping at his cheek, his jaw, the hand now climbing up his spine high enough that the shirt got dragged along, exposing some of Xinlong’s midriff.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Geonwoo mumbled, still mouthing at Xinlong’s face, lips teasing at the corner of Xinlong’s mouth as a hand settled on his nape, firm. “Want to kiss you.”
And kiss him, he did. But before, Geonwoo maneuvered them in a way that had Xinlong shifting in his lap, straddling his thighs instead of sitting sideways, which brought them impossibly closer. Looking pleased, Geonwoo brought both of his hands to Xinlong’s waist under his shirt, eyes raking down his body. He pulled Xinlong’s shirt further up, a palm splaying across Xinlong’s belly.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, breath heavy, dark eyes finding Xinlong’s. “Will you take your shirt off for me?”
Xinlong could say no. He could stand up and say he had a busy day ahead of him and leave, no explanations owed. He could remind Geonwoo that just yesterday he went out with someone with dating intentions, and that he’d made it pretty clear to all of their friends that he was looking to settle down.
Xinlong did none of that. He simply bit back any objections, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. Geonwoo cursed again, using his hands to explore the expanse of Xinlong’s torso, palms gliding all the way up to his collarbones, thumbs on either side of his chin, pushing his face up in appraisal. As if Xinlong were a particularly interesting decorative piece that Geonwoo was considering purchasing.
When Geonwoo pulled him in again, burying his face in his neck, Xinlong said, “Hyung, is this why you brought me here?”
“I brought you here ‘cause you were wasted and I didn’t remember your door code,” Geonwoo replied hastily, his words muffled by the skin of Xinlong’s neck, which he nipped and lapped at as if famished. “But, fuck, I just want to–”
What he wanted was to bite at the sensitive skin of Xinlong’s neck, which he did, eliciting a noise from Xinlong that sounded too much like a moan.
“You like that?” Geonwoo asked. He licked his way up Xinlong’s neck, using his teeth on his jaw, his bottom lip, hands rooted on his waist like it belonged there.
Yes, Xinlong wanted to say, but the only sound he was able to make was a pathetic little hum that, yet again, sounded like a moan.
It made Xinlong feel utterly stupid, the fact that no one was able to rile him up quite like Geonwoo. A single touch, and every nerve in his body was lighting up with desire. It hadn’t always been that way, but now that it was, Xinlong had no idea how to reset.
“Hyung,” he whispered, finding a tether for his hands on Geonwoo’s shoulder and neck, body sagging a bit in his hold.
“Yeah. Tell me what you want, Long-ah.”
What he wanted. Xinlong wanted so many things. He wanted to be the first person Geonwoo thought of when he woke up in the morning, and his last thought late at night. He wanted to be the one Geonwoo took on cute coffee dates, and his only choice for comfort when he was hurting. Xinlong wanted to be at the tail end of Geonwoo’s love and attention.
All he was able to voice, however, was a meek, sheepish little, “Kiss me.”
Geonwoo halted, his eyes resting briefly on Xinlong, half-lidded and clouded, lips glistening with his own saliva.
“I’ll kiss you whenever you want,” he said, leaning in to take Xinlong’s mouth in a loud, wet kiss. “I’ll kiss you all day if you ask me to,” he continued, licking a stripe across Xinlong’s lips, prodding them open.
Xinlong broke the kiss, their lips parting with a wet noise, a thin string of saliva between them. He took in Geonwoo’s flushed face, his pupils blown wide, lips red and plump. Their gazes held momentarily, almost like they were both watching the same movie mirrored in each other’s irises.
The next time they kissed, it was tender, slow. Intentional. Geonwoo made a small noise when their mouths caught again, a whimper that resonated throughout Xinlong’s body, spreading goosebumps all over his skin.
“Can I fuck you?” He asked, lips still working on Xinlong’s, tongue searching inside his mouth.
“Please,” Xinlong answered, weak to everything that pertained to Kim Geonwoo.
Xinlong could feel Geonwoo’s eyes on him as he stood up to get rid of his underwear, relentlessly intense. Geonwoo watched him as if looking away meant Xinlong was going to vanish into thin air. He leaned back on his fancy, expensive office chair and managed to take his shirt off without pulling his eyes away from Xinlong. The shirt was a black one, the Kia Tigers logo printed on the front already cracked and worn out from several rounds in the washing machine. Xinlong remembered he wore that shirt the last time he stayed over; remembered how comforting the fresh cotton and lavender scent he came to associate with Geonwoo felt around him.
Using his index finger to beckon Xinlong over, Geonwoo said, “Come here,” voice low, charged with the same thing he carried in his eyes. Lust, want, desperation… Xinlong wasn’t sure. He just complied, allowing Geonwoo to pull him closer by the backs of his thighs, his knees settling on either side of Geonwoo in the padded chair. It sank a bit with his added weight, but Geonwoo didn’t seem to mind.
His eyes followed the path of his hands as they roamed over Xinlong’s body, curious, eager to cover as much ground as possible, touching as though for the first time. Crazy that Xinlong felt the same; every time with Geonwoo felt like the first. His legs trembling, heartbeat erratic—it was all Geonwoo-exclusive, and it had Xinlong reeling, impatient.
Geonwoo’s hand found Xinlong’s cock, quick to spread precome all over his length. It shot through Xinlong’s body like lightning, every patch of skin prickling as Geonwoo stroked him slowly, carefully. His other hand took possession of Xinlong’s waist, and his hand was so big the pad of his thumb nearly dipped into Xinlong’s belly button.
The way Geonwoo touched him never failed to get Xinlong vocal. Shame flooded his system as moans escaped him, and he tried to bite them back.
“No,” Geonwoo said firmly, pressing open-mouthed kisses on his jaw. “Wanna know how good I make you feel. Let hyung hear you.”
If the multiverse were real, and different versions of the two of them were scattered across several dimensions, Xinlong was positive his variants were all saying yes to Geonwoo’s.
Xinlong came with Geonwoo’s name on his tongue, his touch branded on his skin. He didn’t protest when Geonwoo used his own release to stretch him open, didn’t complain at having to hold himself upright on his knees, didn’t whine about how deep Geonwoo’s fingers could get when he stood like this. Xinlong just took it; he just braced on Geonwoo’s shoulders and pushed back against his fingers until he was shaking and quivering, melting into Geonwoo as if that was always how it was meant to be.
He had his head pillowed on Geonwoo’s shoulder when they fumbled to pull his cock out. Xinlong could barely see what his hands were doing, but he could feel how wet Geonwoo was, how delicious he would feel when he was finally inside.
Geonwoo peppered kisses all over Xinlong’s face when he sank, mouth ajar, the feel of Geonwoo’s cock inside him too much and not enough at the same time. Geonwoo helped him at first, moving him back and forth, creating a slow grind that nearly brought him to the edge. He couldn’t let it end that way, so Xinlong took control of the rhythm, making it faster, a little less controlled.
“Fuck,” Geonwoo cursed, mouth open against Xinlong’s, their breaths mingling hot and heavy. His hands dragged all the way up from Xinlong’s thighs, resting at the back of his head as he kissed him deep, messy. “Fuck– missed this.”
And it made sense that he’d missed it. The last time they’d fucked had been at least two weeks ago—before Geonwoo decided he wanted to go on dates—and that was a long stretch for them.
“Come on,” Xinlong mumbled, hips working faster, the sweat on his skin making Geonwoo’s hands smooth over his skin. “Show me how much, hyung, how much you– ah, missed it–”
Xinlong wasn’t expecting Geonwoo to suddenly stand up from his chair. He yelped, throwing his arms around Geonwoo’s neck as Geonwoo’s hands slid instinctively to his thighs, lifting him without thinking. Before he knew, Geonwoo was clearing out space on his desk, and Xinlong was sitting there, Geonwoo’s cock still lodged inside of him, almost slipping out.
Geonwoo’s arms slid under Xinlong’s thighs, lifting them with ease. The angle forced him further open; Xinlong caught himself on the edge of the desk as Geonwoo picked up speed, plunging into him deep and hard.
“You feel so good around me, Long-ah, Long–” Geonwoo looked into his eyes. “Xinlong–”
He groaned and bent down, face tucked into the space between Xinlong’s neck and shoulder as his hips stuttered, and came to a halt. Xinlong could feel his hot release filling him up, his asshole clenching by instinct, causing Geonwoo’s cock to twitch inside him.
With no surface to rest back against, Xinlong was forced to hold himself steady even with his bones and muscles turned to jelly, with Geonwoo’s weight on top of him. Luckily, he didn’t have to sit still for long; Geonwoo kissed a wet trail up Xinlong’s neck until he reached his mouth, gentle and warm.
Xinlong wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, basking in the afterglow of each other. At some point, Geonwoo pulled back and asked, “Want a bath?”
That was a nice habit that had spawned from these encounters. Whenever they fucked in his apartment—which was equipped with a very nice bathtub—Geonwoo would draw them a bath, and they’d sit in the tub together. Sometimes they’d talk; if it was late, one of them would end up falling asleep. Sometimes, they’d just sit in silence, toes pushing against one another, fingers covertly grazing over knuckles as if they weren’t sure that kind of intimacy was allowed. More often than not, they’d just make out and end up fucking again.
Xinlong nodded once, and Geonwoo said, “Hold tight,” lifting him by the backs of his thighs, much like he’d done earlier. Xinlong threw an arm over Geonwoo’s right shoulder and lay his head on the left, closing his eyes for a moment. Just as long as it took Geonwoo to move them to the bathroom.
Geonwoo set Xinlong down on the edge of the tub, and he flinched when his bare ass came into contact with the cool ceramic. Water started pooling on the bottom of the tub, and Geonwoo held a box filled with bath bombs at Xinlong’s eye level. He pointed at two random ones, not really in the mood to consider his choices.
As he watched them dissolve and colorful pigment spread over the surface, shimmery and fragrant, he counted the seconds, eyes glued to the water as it turned a pale blue. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen… Sixteen seconds until it was all gone. That was longer than he expected it to have lasted.
—
Xinlong met Geonwoo in college. He’d just returned from a year-long exchange in Shanghai, and Xinlong was invited to his welcome back party despite never even knowing him. Then again, as a transfer student and a new addition to the group, he didn’t have many acquaintances aside from the six people he’d been hanging out with all semester.
His first impression of Geonwoo was that he was, undeniably, an extrovert. It was that, or he’d lock himself in the bathroom every twenty minutes to recharge his batteries, ‘cause the man did not stop. Geonwoo seemed to know (and be friends with!) everyone at that party. They were all ecstatic that he was back, hollering in celebration and cackling as he cracked joke after joke. Geonwoo knew how to work a room like no one else. Xinlong watched him captivate everyone’s attention through sheer communication skills and charisma.
Xinlong didn’t even have any time to prepare for the tsunami that was Geonwoo. Before he knew, he was sitting with him on a couch, testing his Mandarin, for some reason.
“I was in Shanghai for… Most? Most of the time. But I also spent a month in Beijing, and visited several other places.” Geonwoo spoke well for a non-native. All of the right tones and inflections, even if there was an accent.
“And what did you like most about it?” Xinlong asked, genuinely curious. Geonwoo was interesting, Xinlong was interested.
“The food!” He exclaimed, a brilliant smile taking over his face. “I’ve gotten so used to it, I have no idea how to go back now.”
“There are several Chinese restaurants in Seoul,” Xinlong reminded him.
“Funny, I wasn’t that into it before. Don’t know many restaurants.”
“I can recommend you at least ten, off the top of my head.”
Somehow, Geonwoo’s smile widened. There was a moment in which he just looked at Xinlong as if he didn’t know how to move forward with the conversation. Xinlong blinked, also unsure of how to proceed. Should Xinlong ask him something else? What should he ask? Should he make up an excuse to leave? But he didn’t want to leave, he liked talking to Geonwoo.
All of a sudden, Geonwoo was speaking to him in Korean. “Show me,” he said.
Xinlong’s brain was thrown for a loop, and he needed two seconds to recalibrate it to the new language. “Ah. Yeah, I can show you a few.” Xinlong pulled out his phone to search up some of his favorite restaurants—some of them he wasn’t even sure had any online presence.
But Geonwoo shook his head, a tiny little laugh escaping him. “No. You could come with me.”
That wasn’t exactly what Xinlong was expecting.
“Like… You want us to go together?”
“Why not? It would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other? I mean, I just came back, you don’t know me. But all of our friends are mutual, so… Just an idea.”
A good one at that. They went out, Xinlong took Geonwoo to his favorite hole in the wall, and they had so much fun. It was the most fun Xinlong had had with anyone since arriving in Seoul. He felt the sort of connection with Geonwoo that he hadn’t felt with anyone, not even Anxin.
They ended up relocating the party to Sangwon’s favorite club (which soon turned into their regular club). The tension between them had been building since the beginning of the night with innuendos and sly glances. Xinlong was able to tell Geonwoo didn’t just want to grow closer for the sake of the friend group; he was clearly interested. And Xinlong… He was interested too. So he just played along, and it resulted in him waking up in Geonwoo’s dorm room, sore and red all over, morale incredibly low.
It kept happening all the way through college. Xinlong thought things might die down after graduation, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.
—
When Xinlong entered the lounge, Sangwon was already there, sitting on the couch with both legs crossed and a book on his lap.
“Morning,” Xinlong greeted.
Sangwon looked up from his book and smiled at him. “Morning, baby.” He gave Xinlong a quick once-over. “You’re early. All good?”
“Peachy.”
The class they were supposed to attend only started at 9, and the clock on the wall stated it was close to 8. Xinlong didn’t usually arrive this early. Sangwon, however, was known for being an overthinker, and his thought process followed the notion that if he didn’t leave home two hours before class was supposed to start, the ballet masters would definitely see it as a sign of incompetence and throw him back into the corps.
“So, did you get home okay last Saturday?” Sangwon asked.
“Yeah,” Xinlong said vaguely. Sangwon was there when Geonwoo picked him up, so mentioning that seemed irrelevant.
The door that led to the kitchenette attached to the lounge burst open, and out came Jiahao, already in full class gear, his blond hair pinned back by a zigzag headband (Xinlong had gotten a pack at a discounted price and gave both Sangwon and Jiahao a couple. Jiahao was the only one who actually wore his).
“There he is,” he said in lieu of a greeting, a lazy smile on his face. “Glad to see you up and running.”
Xinlong snorted, moving to unpack the stuff he brought for the week and loading it all into the locker. “You’re talking as if I’d blacked out in the middle of the club.”
“Wasn’t that what happened?” Jiahao laughed, then tilted his head. “How the hell did you get home, anyway?”
Sangwon slammed his book closed and grabbed his phone, absently messing with it. “We called Geonwoo.”
Jiahao frowned. “Geonwoo? I thought he was busy.”
“He had a date,” Sangwon explained. Xinlong fished a couple of socks out of his duffel bag and neatly arranged them in a pile in the locker.
“And he still came?” Jiahao sounded surprised. “Who called him?”
“I did,” Sangwon said, putting his phone down, then browsing through his book once more. “He said he’d come, so,” he shrugged. “Couldn’t have been busy.”
Jiahao hummed, but didn’t add any more to the conversation. Xinlong zipped up his empty duffel and folded it haphazardly, throwing it inside with less care than he did the rest of his things. He turned around and leaned back against the lockers, arms folded across his chest.
Clearing his throat, he said, making sure his voice sounded as blasé as possible, “I heard we’re getting Kim today.”
Sangwon lowered his book, eyes going wide. “Fuck, you’re right. I totally wiped that from my memory.”
“On a Monday, too,” Jiahao said mournfully. “He’s going to work us all ragged.”
As his friends engaged in a fervent battle of who hated their repetitéur the most, Xinlong exhaled, glad the topic had taken a harmless turn.
—
In one swift move, Geonwoo had his hands under Xinlong’s shirt, palms sliding up his spine. Xinlong shuddered as the cool breeze touched his exposed back, lips parting with a gasp and allowing Geonwoo to dive in for a kiss. The force of it drove Xinlong back against the railing, iron and glass pressed into his back, cold, foreign, and Xinlong shivered again.
“You’re shaking,” Geonwoo muttered against his mouth, his hands everywhere, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of Xinlong’s belly, long fingers digging into the dimples of his back. Geonwoo’s mouth, in turn, worked on Xinlong’s face—licking, nipping, blistering where it touched.
Xinlong, halfway out of his mind, moaned when Geonwoo bit his neck with a little more enthusiasm. They were doing all of that in the balcony of Junseo’s twenty-sixth-floor apartment, all of their friends getting a front row seat to the show through the glass doors. Xinlong didn’t even check whether they were watching, Geonwoo didn’t give him much time to think before he walked out and pounced. What had Xinlong even been doing outside? The memory escaped him.
Dragging his tongue up Xinlong’s neck, Geonwoo threaded a hand into his hair, thumb pressing on his chin. He applied just a little bit of pressure, and Xinlong’s lips fell open to be taken on yet another kiss. His clothes were starting to feel limiting, the fabric bothersome against his skin, Geonwoo’s touch not reaching deep enough.
“Hyung,” he whined, pushing closer, burying both hands into Geonwoo’s back pockets, right over his ass.
Geonwoo hummed into the kiss, parting it only to say, “Are you free tomorrow? I have something I want to– wanna talk to you about.”
It dawned on Xinlong—right when Geonwoo bit at his lower lip hard enough to sting—what the topic of the conversation could be.
It felt like stepping onto thin ice and realizing, way too late, that it was going to break. Xinlong’s whole body went cold, rigid. Geonwoo kept kissing him, insistent, both hands in his hair holding him close, not keen on letting go yet. Perhaps not realizing Xinlong had gone limp in his arms.
A few seconds went by until Geonwoo finally leaned back, glazed eyes searching. “Huh? Did you hear me?” It took Xinlong more than he thought it would to just nod. Geonwoo frowned, hands sliding down to Xinlong’s arms. He asked, “What’s wrong?”
Xinlong was probably making some kind of face, he was terrible at masking. Breaking eye contact seemed to work, most times, so he lowered his gaze and cleared his throat. “Nothing. I was just, um, running through my schedule for tomorrow.”
Geonwoo breathed in, nodding quickly. “Okay. Are you free?”
A very specific kind of energy thrummed out of him; the kind that wouldn’t do well staying in, that needed to be let out. Geonwoo definitely had something to tell him.
“What do you need to talk about? Can’t we discuss it now?”
“No, not now.” Geonwoo surged in again, nosing at Xinlong’s cheek, arms around him. “Now, I want you right here–”
And Xinlong didn’t have it in him to deny Geonwoo any of that. He wanted to be handled with care, kissed and worshipped by him, even if only while the moon was full and shining in the sky. Even if, when it finally waned, someone else would be the one lying in Geonwoo’s bed, wearing his cotton and lavender-scented clothes, sharing his mornings and learning his habits.
So when Geonwoo took him by the hand and led him out of the balcony and across the living room, ignoring their friends and their comments, towards Junseo’s spare room, Xinlong simply let him.
He let Geonwoo take off his clothes with that same care and attention he displayed every single time they were together. Xinlong stood there and allowed Geonwoo to gently push him onto the bed, to spread kisses all over his belly as if he were sprinkling sugar on top of a particularly delectable dessert. Xinlong let Geonwoo mouth at his thigh, and his knee, down his leg to his heel. He giggled when Geonwoo playfully blew on the soles of his feet, and kept the smile up until Geonwoo climbed up and stole it from his mouth with a kiss that seared his lips.
Xinlong didn’t register any shame when Junseo banged at the door, announcing they were leaving for the club with a very pointed ‘don’t break anything, you animals’. If Geonwoo had stepped away and told him to get dressed, that’s exactly what Xinlong would have done. But Geonwoo didn’t do that. Instead, he brushed Xinlong’s hair out of his face. His eyes, dark and half-lidded moments before, were suddenly alert and clear.
“What’s on your mind, love?” He asked, a knuckle tracing carefully down Xinlong’s face.
“Nothing,” Xinlong replied, and wound both arms around Geonwoo, bringing him closer, kissing him, breathing him in. He didn’t care if his behavior came off as needy and desperate.
Xinlong committed it all to memory; the faces Geonwoo made while stretching him open, how bright and blatant desire glowed in his eyes. He asked Geonwoo to be the one to slide the condom on him, guiding his fingers over every inch, trying to get his muscles to remember the way it felt in his hands. He didn’t bother keeping his voice down when Geonwoo finally pushed inside, moaning and yelping at each thrust. He held Geonwoo close as if letting go was never a possibility, forcing him into an excruciatingly slow pace that drove them both to the brink of madness.
Throughout it all, Geonwoo kept whispering into his ear—you’re so good for me, Longie, makes me feel so good—and, just like all the rest, Xinlong filed it away in the little Geonwoo folder in the directory of his mind.
When they were done and clean, they lay back in silence, Geonwoo playing with Xinlong’s hand like a fidget toy, Xinlong’s thoughts going a thousand miles per hour. They settled and festered too fast, and before he knew, the decision was made.
They showered together, changed the sheets, and Geonwoo suggested they just sleep over, knowing everyone would rendezvous back at the apartment by the end of the night. Xinlong acquiesced and, once again, allowed Geonwoo to pull him close and kiss him to his heart’s content.
“Where are we meeting tomorrow?” Geonwoo asked at some point. They were lying on their sides, Xinlong’s back to Geonwoo’s chest, head cushioned by his stretched out arm while his other hand rubbed gently at Xinlong’s belly.
The fateful meeting. Xinlong was grateful for being able to hide his face into a pillow.
“Dunno. You pick,” he said absently.
A kiss to his nape, then another to his shoulder. “We could have lunch. Or dinner.”
“Sure,” Xinlong answered, past the lump in his throat and the ache in his chest.
Silence hovered for a few seconds, and then he was shifting, maneuvering Xinlong on his back, angling his face so that their eyes would meet. He studied Xinlong’s face for a beat, then knit his brows.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
Xinlong sighed, urging the corners of his mouth upwards in what he hoped was a sincere smile. “Fine.” He leaned in, planting a quick kiss on Geonwoo’s lips. Geonwoo instantly melted into the kiss, rolling fully on top of him to deepen it. Xinlong, as he’d been doing the entire night, let it happen.
Once Geonwoo fell asleep, Xinlong tiptoed out of bed, collected his clothes off the floor, and got dressed, careful not to make a sound. He called a car through a ride app, and once he got the notification that his driver was around the corner, Xinlong took one last look at Geonwoo’s sleeping form on the bed, drinking in the sight. Another one for his folder.
He held back his tears on the ride back home, telling himself it was pointless to cry over losing something that was never his to begin with. Like a mantra, over and over, until the car was in front of his building: he was never yours.
—
Me [03:11 AM]
Geonwoo-hyung
I don’t want to do this anymore. I think we should focus on other people from now on.
—
If Xinlong had managed to catch a wink of sleep, he would have woken up to a couple of texts from Geonwoo. The sounds of incoming messages plagued him throughout the night, though, playing as the soundtrack of Xinlong’s many hours of sitting in bed and staring aimlessly at the wall.
The texts he received varied in kind. First, Anxin reached out to ask when they’d be joining the others at the club. Then Anxin again, asking if they’d join at all. A few texts in the group chat poking fun at them for going at it in Junseo’s guest room—You both owe Junseo-hyung new sheets!—, some from Junseo with instructions about the house. Geonwoo’s texts didn’t come till morning.
Geonwoo [7:54 AM]
Where are you?
Geonwoo [8:17 AM]
Are our plans for today still on?
Xinlong didn’t reply. A few hours later, he received more messages.
Geonwoo [11:38 AM]
Xinlong?
Should we talk? Did anything happen?
Geonwoo [3:04 PM]
Call me when you can, please.
Not wanting to make it obvious he’d read the messages and chose to ignore them, Xinlong read them all through the notification bar. By the time the last text came through, Xinlong decided to toss his phone aside and find something else to busy himself with. He turned on the TV and put some ballet videos he’d saved but never got around to watching.
It was around eight at night when Anxin rang him.
“Finally!” He exclaimed. Xinlong could hear voices on the other side of the line. “Where on earth have you been? Why aren’t you checking your phone?”
Xinlong stared at his wall, taking in a deep breath. “I was… Napping. I took a nap.”
“Right,” Anxin drawled. “Right. Okay, have you talked to Geonwoo-hyung?”
His toes curled and flexed a couple of times. “No. I haven’t.”
There was a pause. A car drove by honking on Anxin’s side, and all of a sudden, Xinlong could no longer hear ambient noise.
“Well, are you going to?” Anxin asked in a half-whisper. He’d moved somewhere quiet, his voice sounding ten times closer than before. “He texted the group chat asking for you, then called me a few minutes ago.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Wanted to know if we were together, if I’d talked to you. Honestly, I was surprised you weren’t there when we went back to Jun-ge’s after the club.”
Xinlong contemplated telling Anxin over the phone. “Are you home?”
“No, I’m at Leo’s with Kangmin-hyung. Why?”
The clock read just a few minutes past eight. “Can you come over?”
Anxin stared at him in complete silence, mouth ajar and brows knitted as if Xinlong had just gone on a spiel in a language that was completely alien to him.
“Why the fuck would you do that?!” He cried, because Anxin didn’t usually measure his words, and Xinlong was always expecting the unexpected from him.
“Do what? End things or sneak out?”
Huffing, Anxin averted his eyes for a brief second before turning back to glare at Xinlong. “Both! I thought you liked him!”
Xinlong had never said anything about having feelings for Geonwoo. Then again, he was really bad at masking, and Anxin was his best friend. If twin flames were a real thing, Xinlong would bet real money on Anxin being his.
“That’s beside the point,” he said, getting up from the couch and walking to the fridge. He pulled the door open and looked inside, unsure of what he was there for.
Angry footsteps echoed in Xinlong’s diminished apartment, and Anxin materialized next to him. “Then what is the point? Did he fuck up what you guys had or something?”
“It’s not about that.” Cold air from the fridge fanned across Xinlong’s face, and he picked up a bottle of sparkling water just for the hell of it.
“Then what is it about? On our way to the club last night, we were all betting on you two leaving that room having united in holy matrimony! Forgive me if this sudden break-up caught me off-guard.”
Xinlong pushed the fridge door closed, and made his way back to the living room, Anxin on his tail. “It wasn’t a break-up, Anxin, we weren’t together.”
“Is that the reason why you broke up with him? ‘Cause you wanted to be together?” Anxin let out a loud and dramatic gasp. “Oh, fuck, he went on that date with Jun’s friend. Is that why? Is he seeing that girl?”
Attentive to Xinlong’s every move, Anxin probably interpreted his silence and hesitation as confirmation.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” His shoulders dropped, his eyes losing focus as if the pieces of a puzzle were connecting in his brain. “I thought it was weird as fuck that he’d go on dates. Or that he’d at least be going on them with you.” He turned back to Xinlong. “Did he ask you out?”
Xinlong shook his head, twisting the bottle cap to break the seal.
The frown on Anxin’s forehead intensified. “Never even asked if you were up for seeing each other more seriously?”
“Nope.” Xinlong heaved a sigh and crossed his legs under his body. “Didn’t hold my breath, though; it was never like that between us.”
“That’s not how it looked like.”
The bottle hovered halfway to Xinlong’s lips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that it did look like you two were something more, you know?” Anxin scratched the back of his head. Then, his eyebrows shot up, and took the seat next to Xinlong, eyes wide. “Last weekend you got totally wasted at the club, he wasn’t even there and showed up to pick you up anyway!”
A line of reasoning Xinlong did not dare to entertain. “Any of us would do that for each other,” he argued.
The loud ‘ha!’ Anxin let out could probably be heard all the way across town to Leo’s apartment. “Oh no, we wouldn’t! I wouldn’t leave home at ass o’clock just to fetch a drunkard off the side of the street.”
Xinlong elbowed Anxin’s rib half-heartedly. “Don’t call me a drunkard, you moron. Geonwoo would have come for anyone else.”
“He would not. Are you tripping? Last month, when I went back home, I texted him asking for a ride to the airport and he didn’t even reply to me.”
Anxin continued, “We could have called Zihao, or Hanyu, or anyone else, but we all knew Geonwoo would drop whatever he was doing to come get you. That’s why we called him.”
The words landed like a lead brick.
It had happened before—Geonwoo dropping plans just to be where Xinlong was, going places Xinlong wanted him to go. He’d never been flaky. It didn’t mean he wanted anything romantic, though; it just meant he was reliable as a friend. Besides, Geonwoo had always been straightforward. Xinlong guessed he would’ve said something had his feelings changed along the way.
“He didn’t even see me as an option,” Xinlong said. “What am I supposed to think?”
The question was a rhetorical one, but Anxin still gave him an answer, eyes dulling out. “That you’re convenient.”
Xinlong inhaled and exhaled. “Can you imagine how pathetic it would be if I went up to him and asked why he didn’t take me on a date instead of that girl?” He huffed a humorless laugh. “It stops being fun when you start wondering whether all you’re good for is a convenient fuck.”
This time around, the silence that stretched was heavier, dimmer. It matched the state of Xinlong’s heart quite perfectly.
—
The vibes were off within the group.
For days, Geonwoo was mostly absent from the group chat and only provided emoji reactions. He didn’t interact with any of Xinlong’s texts, never even confirming whether he was going to the bougie brunch restaurant Sangwon had reserved them a table at. Xinlong didn’t want to risk seeing him there, so he came up with an excuse and skipped it.
The following week, Junseo invited them all over to debut his new ice cream machine. This time around, Geonwoo replied to his invite saying he wouldn’t be able to come.
“This means you’re going, right?” Sangwon asked Xinlong seconds after reading the text, one foot in a ballet shoe, the other lying forgotten between them.
The class that afternoon was mandatory only for principals, though soloists were invited to attend. For most of it, Xinlong sat with his friends and other colleagues while the principals rehearsed, waiting for a chance to take the floor.
Xinlong, phone in hand and both shoes tossed aside, frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
Before answering, Sangwon inspected their surroundings and leaned in. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been avoiding Geonwoo. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but everyone can tell.”
It made Xinlong uneasy to know the others had been talking about it. Not that he’d been trying to hide it; it didn’t come as a surprise. Still, it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He blinked at Sangwon. “You want to know if I’m going to Jun-ge’s house later tonight?”
“Yep. Since Geonwoo won’t be there.”
If he was being truthful, Xinlong didn’t feel like going. He knew people would try to get him talking, try to yank the ‘truth’ out of him, and he really didn’t want to talk about it.
As he stressed over whether he should go, Sangwon said, “He’s been asking me about you. Every evening, I get a text asking how you’ve been. I never checked if you were comfortable with me relaying information to him. Are you?”
The tiniest of flames flickered at the pit of Xinlong’s stomach at Sangwon’s words. He swallowed. “I don’t–”
He wasn’t sure if it bothered him or not. Geonwoo hadn’t texted him since that morning after, but he’d been talking to their friends instead, fishing for news. That was confusing, to say the least. What did he even want to know? It wasn’t like Xinlong’s routine had changed since their last meeting.
“I can cut him off if you want me to,” Sangwon said. He turned his huge eyes at Xinlong, teeth worrying over his bottom lip.
“No,” Xinlong replied without thinking. “It’s fine.”
A brief silence stretched between them. Then Sangwon shifted closer, his knee nudging against Xinlong’s thigh. Xinlong lifted his gaze.
“Did he do anything to you?” Concern flared in his eyes, and Sangwon placed a hand on Xinlong’s arm. “We’ve been trying not to pry, but… I can’t help but worry.”
Sangwon was a good friend, helpful in every way he knew how. He’d referred Xinlong for a spot at the company and helped him get another reference from a friend who owned a studio. He cared for Xinlong; there was no denying that. But he was Geonwoo’s friend first.
With a sigh, Xinlong shook his head. “He didn’t do anything, hyung. It was all on me.”
Sangwon took in a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. He gazed at Xinlong for a few seconds, then nodded.
That evening, at Junseo’s, everyone flocked around his ice cream machine as it churned. Xinlong sat behind the counter and watched the whole thing with his chin propped over his palm, phone in his other hand. His inbox showed a couple of unread texts in the group chat—Sanghyeon asking for the door code—Xinlong was about to open them when he saw something.
Geonwoo is typing… said the preview of his chat with Geonwoo, unopened since that night. It sat at the very bottom of Xinlong’s screen, the texts he’d received and seen throughout the week stacked on top of it.
The grip he had on his phone tightened, and he held his breath as he saw it come and go. Geonwoo is typing… Then he wasn’t. Then Geonwoo is typing… Then he wasn’t. Until the message disappeared and didn’t reappear.
The number of unread texts remained at the corner of the chat box, nothing but Geonwoo’s contact and the preview (Call me when you can, please) showing.
Xinlong hadn’t registered his heartbeat going wild. Geonwoo was about to text him, wasn’t he? He gave up. What was he going to say?
—
Xinlong wasn’t all that excited about a night out, but confirmed his presence when Leo ran the poll on the group chat. He felt like he’d been too absent the past couple of weeks, and he was used to spending Saturdays with his friends. Maybe coming out without making it too obvious that he cared whether Geonwoo was going to be there or not would ease their worries a bit.
Getting dressed was a quick affair, considering he didn’t put much effort into it. Xinlong got a cab to Leo’s house, and then rode with him, Sangwon, and Anxin to the club. It felt like he did it all on autopilot, his mind resting comfortably in the back seat.
At the club, they grabbed a booth and settled with drinks before they began slipping onto the dance floor in small bunches. Xinlong didn’t really feel like it, so he lingered at the table longer than he usually did. Maybe if he hadn’t, he’d have missed the moment Geonwoo arrived.
Xinlong didn’t know he was going to be there; he hadn’t asked, and no one had said anything. Geonwoo had been silent in the group chat for days.
But there he was, looking absolutely devastating in dark-wash jeans and a matching jacket. It looked like he’d put some thought into his outfit. Xinlong knew what it looked like when Geonwoo didn’t care about his appearance, and those were nice pants.
The moment their eyes locked, Xinlong was sucker-punched—the kind that robs you of all air, drains you of energy, and leaves you for dead on the floor. Xinlong’s heart climbed up to his throat, and the longer Geonwoo held his gaze, the dizzier he felt.
He broke contact and stood from his seat, marching towards nowhere at all—maybe the bar, he wasn’t sure. He just knew he needed to put at least a mile between himself and Geonwoo.
Leo was the only one left at the booth when Xinlong left, and he seemed too immersed in his phone to be aware of his surroundings.
The pop beat reverberating through the club played straight into Xinlong’s chest, the bass pounding like his own heartbeat, wild and frantic. A hand flew to his chest as he tried to even his breath. He braced himself against the bar counter, keeping his eyes shut, inhaling, then exhaling.
“Hey, you okay?” He heard someone ask, a random guy, maybe the bartender.
“Fine,” he said, prying his eyes open.
The bartender stood in front of him, brows furrowed, a gin bottle in hand. “Can I get you anything?”
The answer did not come from Xinlong. “Cider, if you have that.”
Geonwoo shot the bartender a tight smile, not even waiting for a response before he faced Xinlong.
For a second, it was like the whole club—everyone ordering at the bar, the ones on the dance floor, people at the booths—was held in suspension, completely still. Like the universe narrowed to Xinlong and Geonwoo, standing at the bar while the noise and chaos around them went mute. Xinlong wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Geonwoo spoke. His lashes fluttered as he blinked, nostrils flaring. “Sorry, I went ahead and ordered before you.” His cheek twitched minutely.
Several answers sat at the tip of Xinlong’s tongue: ‘No problem’, ‘It’s fine’, ‘I wasn’t going to order anything’, but none of them seemed to make it past his lips. He just stared at Geonwoo as if he was an apparition (he kind of was), and felt his mouth dry out like it hadn’t seen any liquid in days.
Geonwoo shifted on his feet, looking around quickly just as the bartender pushed a plastic cup filled with cider towards him.
“Ah, thanks,” he said, holding out his card. The drink remained untouched on the counter, and Geonwoo stood there, unmoving. “Sorry, I didn’t mention I was coming,” he said. “It was… a last-minute decision.”
Somehow, the fact that Geonwoo was visibly shaken brought Xinlong a weird sort of satisfaction.
“That’s the second time you apologize tonight,” Xinlong said. He had to bite back the bittersweet smile threatening to break out.
The laugh Geonwoo let out was entirely humorless, a little self-deprecating. “I have a feeling I might owe you some of those.” His eyes dimmed slightly, and he lowered them for a brief moment before lifting them again. “Can we talk? Could we… go somewhere and talk? Maybe?”
Xinlong spoke before panic had a chance to spread. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
Geonwoo heaved a sigh, running both hands over his own face, then pushing them into his hair. His eyes were wide, brows a little lifted in the inner corners. “Have I done anything?” He urged, voice strained. “Please, tell me so I can fix it. I really want to fix it.”
That kind of energy, the desperation emanating from him, crashed over Xinlong like a particularly violent wave, pulling him under. When Xinlong’s fight-or-flight response kicked in, flight won by a landslide. He stepped back from the counter. “You can’t fix it, hyung.”
He only got a glimpse of Geonwoo’s reaction before turning around. His mouth ajar, a frown pulling at his face. Xinlong didn’t linger to hear what his answer would be; he walked to the exit of the club and boarded the first cab parked outside.
When the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open, Xinlong’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out as he approached his apartment door, seeing a couple of new texts from Leo. The messages weren’t in the group chat; they were in their private conversation. Leo didn’t usually text him privately.
Leo-hyung [00:29 AM]
xinlong what the fuck is going on?
why would you leave like that?
everyone is worried
where are you?
As he read the texts, a call came through, and Junseo’s name lit up the screen. Xinlong swallowed, the anxiety collecting in his throat. He answered it.
“Hello.”
“Xinlong?” Junseo said. He wasn’t inside the club anymore; Xinlong couldn’t hear the bass or the chatter of drunk people around him. All he could hear was the wind and traffic in the distance. “Where are you?”
A voice that sounded like Jiahao’s spoke on the other side, ‘Ask him if he’s safe.’
Everyone is worried, Leo had said in his text. The one thing Xinlong wanted to avoid that night was worrying his friends. The whole point of coming to the club had been to ease their concerns. He’d obviously failed.
“Are you safe?” Junseo voiced.
Xinlong’s words came out a bit shaky and watery, and he hated it. “Yes, hyung. I’m home.”
Junseo sighed on the other side of the line, and the next time he spoke, his voice was softer. “Long-ah. Can Hao and I come over?”
“I think I need to be alone, hyung.”
Another sigh followed, then a long pause. Junseo continued, “Can I ask… Why did you break up with Geonwoo?”
Xinlong knew it was coming, and yet, tears still sprang to his eyes. It wasn’t the fact that Geonwoo was going on dates with people who weren’t Xinlong that bothered him. It was that he’d had every opportunity to talk about it, and chose not to. They’d met twice before that weekend, once for lunch when Xinlong had a rare cancellation of a class, and another time when Geonwoo asked for company to go grocery shopping.
It was only when the group chat flooded with plans to go clubbing last weekend that Geonwoo finally mentioned his date in a space where Xinlong was present. He wasn’t even told directly. Geonwoo just texted the group chat that he had a date that same evening, and never brought it up again.
He ran a fist over his eyes, catching the tears before they fell, and sniffed. “He never even– I was never an option.”
“Oh, Longie… Are you– Can we come over? I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
‘Is he home? I’ll call an Uber.’
“Please, don’t come over, I don’t want you to.”
“Okay, then, we won’t. But, Xinlong, you need to talk to Geonwoo. You really need to talk to him.”
The idea of facing Geonwoo… “I’m embarrassed, hyung.”
“You’re– This– Long-ah, I think you might have misunderstood the situation.”
Anger surged through Xinlong, sharp and thin like a needle to the chest. “How? He took your friend on a date, how could I have misunderstood that?”
Junseo was silent for a while. “You need to talk to him,” he reiterated. It only stoked the fire inside Xinlong.
“He hasn’t texted in weeks!” He snapped, even though he knew it was a worthless excuse when he had been the one to ghost Geonwoo in the first place. It was Xinlong who had avoided conversation time and time again.
“He’s giving you space! He thinks that’s what you want! You’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair? Not even letting him know why?”
Xinlong wanted to retort and say he didn’t owe Geonwoo anything, but even to his own ears that sounded like absolute bullshit.
“Thanks for calling, hyung,” he muttered and ended the call.
The next morning, Xinlong woke up to see that his chat with Geonwoo had jumped to the top of the list. Two new texts were sitting there.
After climbing off the bed and washing his face, he sat on the couch staring at his inbox. There were also texts from Anxin asking if he could come over, and an apology from Junseo. The group chat was silent throughout the night.
In the quiet and safety of his own home, with nothing but his own thoughts for company, Xinlong couldn’t sit still. He got up from the couch, then twirled his phone around in his palm a couple of times, then opened his inbox again.
He should have at least let someone know he was leaving, but it was like his brain was clouded, and he couldn’t fully process his own actions. In the back seat.
The new messages read:
Geonwoo [00:34 AM]
Can I call you?
Please
Geonwoo [00:36 AM]
I jsut want to say Im sorry
With a shaky breath, Xinlong read the messages three more times before locking his phone and tossing it on the couch. The couch creaked as he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, blinking up at the lamp. The fixture in his living room was different from the ones in the rest of the apartment. He’d gotten it on a shopping trip to Ikea the day Geonwoo asked for help choosing a new bedside table. They’d left without it, but Xinlong ended up buying a new flush mount for his living room.
He lowered his gaze, running it across the space. Bits and pieces of Geonwoo could be found everywhere in his apartment. The rug Geonwoo had gotten him as a housewarming gift when he moved out of the dorms. The vase that used to be his aunt’s but didn’t match the decor in his own place, so Xinlong rescued it from being thrown away. On Xinlong’s fridge door, the magnet Geonwoo got him in Thailand. Inside the fridge, the container he’d brought from Geonwoo’s house with leftovers and never returned.
Their lives had been more entwined than Xinlong realized. Everyone had been calling it a ‘break-up’, and they might have been right. It was a break-up. Xinlong broke up with Geonwoo and didn’t even give him an explanation. Didn’t even tell him why.
If their roles had been reversed and he’d waited for Geonwoo to call it off between them, Xinlong would have appreciated the courtesy of being properly informed.
That revelation carried him out of the apartment and all the way across town to Geonwoo’s.
For a minute or two, Xinlong stood in front of Geonwoo’s building, staring at the intercom. He knew the moment he rang it, the camera would activate, and Geonwoo would know he was the one outside before answering. Geonwoo could choose not to.
Xinlong swallowed and pressed the damned button.
And then the gate buzzed open. No one said anything; no sounds came from the speaker. Whoever had checked the camera saw Xinlong and buzzed the door open without question.
He pushed past the gate and toward the elevators. Another camera was pinned to the upper corner of the car, and Xinlong knew the images could be accessed by residents through the building’s security feed. He wondered whether he was being watched.
The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped out to find the door to Geonwoo’s apartment ajar, Geonwoo standing in the doorway, looking downright confused.
The sight of him gave Xinlong a scare. He looked like he had just woken up, with his hair pointing in every direction but down, and his pajamas stained with something red. Xinlong was torn between gochujang and pizza sauce. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired-looking.
Just like when he’d buzzed Xinlong in, Geonwoo didn’t say anything. He just stared as if merely blinking would make Xinlong vanish.
Xinlong cleared his throat. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said.
Geonwoo finally blinked, lips parting like his brain was slowly regaining its basic functions and remembering how to speak. “Ah. Okay. Do you… want to come in? I just have to change.”
Xinlong nodded and followed Geonwoo inside.
Geonwoo had always been tidy. He reasoned that a small apartment needed to be kept clean, or he wouldn’t have space to move around. The place was in shambles. There were clothes in the living room, an empty box of pizza—that solved the mystery of the stain on Geonwoo’s pajamas—on the floor by the coffee table.
On the counter, Xinlong spotted some open soda cans and soju bottles. Something unpleasant twisted in his stomach, and Xinlong folded his arms on his chest. Geonwoo returned a few minutes later, hair slightly damp and dressed in clean clothes. He met Xinlong’s eyes, holding his gaze for a moment.
Xinlong gave the living room a cursory check. “You need to do some cleaning around here.”
That was clearly not what Geonwoo was expecting to hear. He snorted, looking away before lifting his eyes once more.
“Yeah. Shall we go?”
The jogging lane around Geonwoo’s building led to a small playground square nearby. Sometimes, they’d follow that path down to Geonwoo’s house, coming back from a night out. Bushes and ornamental trees framed the pathway, and some of the dry leaves ended up on the gravel.
Xinlong liked crushing them as he walked. They came across several joggers, all going out of their way to run past them as their pace was too slow for the path. The sky was clear, and the sun wasn’t too hot—an overall nice day for a run.
The sole of Xinlong’s foot met the first dry leaf, and the crunch of it tickled his brain in a pleasant, familiar way. He’d had a whole speech rehearsed on the way over, but as he flipped the words around in his head, he didn’t feel ready to deliver it.
He had to say something, though. Geonwoo stayed silent beside him, stealing occasional glances at Xinlong as if he didn’t think he’d be noticed.
With a deep breath, Xinlong said, “I was thinking about the first time we went out together the other day.”
Geonwoo didn’t move to face him. “The Chinese joint in Apgujeong?”
Xinlong hummed. His brain pulled up a crisp image of that evening, the shock on the owner’s face when he heard Geonwoo’s Mandarin. Xinlong smiled. “It’s been a while since we last paid them a visit.”
It was a bone. Xinlong wanted to see whether Geonwoo would pick it up, whether he’d make this hard out of spite. His little anecdote got no reaction from Geonwoo at all. Okay. Straight to the point, then.
“I shouldn’t have done it that way,” Xinlong said. “Broke things off without giving you an explanation.”
No response. He sneaked a peek at Geonwoo, whose jaw was set, eyes firm on the path ahead of them.
Xinlong continued, “That was… Yeah, that was unfair. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The words were entirely insincere; they both knew Geonwoo didn’t mean them.
“No, it wasn’t okay,” Xinlong insisted with a shake of his head. “Please, just—just take it.”
Geonwoo heaved a long sigh, but still didn’t look at Xinlong. “Alright, I’ll take it.”
They kept on walking, but no more words were exchanged for a while. Geonwoo thrust both hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and cleared his throat. Xinlong saw the corner of his mouth twitch in that way it did when he was nervous, or apprehensive, or overwhelmed.
That wasn’t everything he’d come here to say; there was more.
“You said you wanted to settle down,” he said. That’s what finally got Geonwoo to look at him.
“Huh?”
“You wanted to find someone to date,” Xinlong explained. “You wanted something serious.”
As Geonwoo blinked at him, clearly at a loss, Xinlong felt his throat dry out, any words he might have had lodging somewhere between his mouth and chest. But the silence stretched in an uncomfortable way, and Xinlong had started this conversation; he needed to steer it forward.
Another dry leaf crunched under Xinlong’s shoe as he swallowed. “Did you ever think of me? When you were thinking about it, did you… Did you consider…”
Geonwoo came to an immediate halt in the middle of the track and turned to Xinlong, eyes wide. “Xinlong,” he said, pausing. “I was always, only ever thinking of you.”
A beat passed, and Xinlong went over the words again. Did he mean that as a friend, or…? “You… You went on dates… Junseo’s friend.”
“Yeah, but I wanted it to have been you.”
Xinlong’s stomach clenched again and again until it knotted around itself. “You never– Never asked me out, I–”
The frown on Geonwoo’s brow deepened. “Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. A few months ago. We were at that new pub downtown. I asked if you were free the next morning, and you said you were, so I asked if you wanted to go out with me. On a date.”
As his stomach sank, Xinlong recalled an evening in particular, when they’d all gone downtown to check out a new Mexican pub. Xinlong might have had two shots of tequila; he wasn’t sure. That entire night was a blur, but he remembered being tangled in Geonwoo’s arms at some point. He could still picture Geonwoo’s gentle hand running through his hair, Geonwoo’s breath fanning over the strands on his forehead.
Geonwoo had told him something then—Xinlong didn’t remember it as a question. Something along the lines of, ‘You want to get takeout tomorrow, if you’re free?’
“You… asked if I wanted to get takeout,” Xinlong said, pulse louder than his own voice, hands going sweaty. Someone’s elbow hit Xinlong’s arm when they ran past them, and they barked something at them that Xinlong couldn’t have made out.
Geonwoo turned around to look at the person, then rolled his eyes, back to Xinlong. “No, Long-ah, I asked if I could take you out. You said you were fine.”
‘Nah, I’m fine,’ is what Xinlong had said. It echoed in his mind now that the memory resurfaced. Staring at the small brand logo printed on the upper corner of Geonwoo’s shirt, Xinlong barely saw it.
“Why would I ask if you wanted delivery?” Geonwoo asked, incredulous.
Why the fuck would he ask if you wanted delivery? Xinlong wouldn’t even be able to come up with an answer—there was no way he’d be able to make sense of his own intoxicated brain.
“I was drunk as fuck, Geonwoo,” he reasoned. “We had tequila shots that night.”
“I was drunk too,” Geonwoo shot back. “I thought you’d rejected me.”
“You never even… thought about asking me again?”
“No, Xinlong, I didn’t want to be rejected again. I was way less brave while sober.”
A jogger went out of her way to swerve around the two of them, and Xinlong did not miss the glare she threw him. Had she been the first one? How many others had run past them without him noticing? Had he always been that distracted? How could he have possibly missed the fact that Geonwoo wanted to take him on a date? It didn’t sound real, his brain wouldn’t process it.
Looking up at Geonwoo, whose eyes were already searching for Xinlong’s, he asked, “You wanted to take me on a date?”
Geonwoo’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he scoffed, averting his gaze for a few seconds. He looked back at Xinlong, a fire burning beneath his eyes.
He spoke so quietly that Xinlong almost didn’t hear it. “You still don’t get it, do you?” Taking a single step toward Xinlong, Geonwoo continued, “I’m stuck on you. No one ever came close, and I know no one ever will. I’m so fucking crazy about you, the others almost staged an intervention. You’re all I can talk about, all I can think about.”
Xinlong’s throat was an entire desert; he swallowed dryly. “Are you serious?”
“Sweetheart,” Geonwoo muttered, shaking his head. “I’ve never been subtle.”
There he was, stating the facts straight to Xinlong’s face, and Xinlong’s miserable brain kept trying to pick it apart. “You’re nice,” he said weakly. “To everybody, you’re—”
Geonwoo didn’t even let him finish. “No,” he cut in. “Not everybody. I’m nice to you, Xinlong. You’re the exception to everything.”
Static took over Xinlong’s brain, muddying his thoughts.
Anxin had mentioned that Geonwoo hadn’t even replied to his text asking for a ride to the airport. And just last weekend, he’d heard Sanghyeon say Geonwoo had broken his PS5 controller and refused to buy a new one.
“Please tell me you didn’t break up with me because you thought I didn’t like you,” Geonwoo said.
When Xinlong met his eyes, he saw a little bit of distress in there. It quickly morphed into near-hysterical laughter, and Geonwoo cackled loudly, hands on his stomach, head thrown back.
“Fuck!” He howled. “How?!”
“You went on a date…”
“I lasted an hour, and then drove her home. Spent the entire night wondering if I should text you, then Sangwon called me to pick you up. It felt like a divine calling. Like that’s where I was supposed to be. At your beck and call. I would gladly be, if that’s where you need me.”
The more Geonwoo talked, the louder the ringing in Xinlong’s ears grew. It was like the information was being fed to him in fragments, and his system was having a hard time computing everything.
“Hyung–”
“I wanted to tell you that. Was going to, but you– you left and wouldn’t talk to me. You just wouldn’t talk to me, Long-ah.”
One last step, and Geonwoo had both hands on Xinlong’s arms, pinning him in place. As if there was any chance he’d move. As if he remembered how to move.
“I’m in love with you,” Geonwoo said, loud and clear. “So in love with you I– fuck I went nearly insane the whole time ghosted me.”
Xinlong blinked at him, a chill running down his spine when Geonwoo brushed a knuckle across the line of his jaw, soft and careful.
His gaze swept over Xinlong, hooded, filled with something heavy, charged, somewhat reverent. His thumb brushed down Xinlong’s lower lip, and his touch echoed throughout Xinlong’s body, goosebumps breaking out everywhere.
“Long-ah,” Geonwoo whispered, reverence in every syllable. He pushed his nose against Xinlong’s and pecked his lips so softly Xinlong barely even felt it. “Sweetheart. I love you.”
Geonwoo pressed his lips against Xinlong’s again, fingers sliding to the back of his neck. He was doing everything with so much gentleness and care that each touch had him shaking and shuddering.
He kept speaking, muttering against Xinlong’s mouth, dampening his lips as he stole an open-mouthed kiss. “You believe me, don’t you?” Another kiss, a tiny flick of his tongue. Xinlong groaned again, body finally finding it in itself to respond, hands lifting to hook on Geonwoo’s shirt. “If I ask you out again, will you say yes?”
Xinlong nodded, a little desperate, a little pained. It hurt to have Geonwoo take him like this, kiss him with this much devotion and care. It was like he was handling something fragile—something he was afraid to lose again.
One of Geonwoo’s hands slid lower down Xinlong’s body, to settle over his hip. The other lifted to touch his face, a thumb delicately brushing the underside of his eye. “Silly boy.” Another kiss, wet and loud. “How could you think I was anything but crazy for you? You have me in the palm of your hand. If this life is a circus, you’re the ringleader, and I’m your fucking monkey. Tell me how you want me, Xinlong, and I’ll– I’ll dance for you. I’ll do it, I’ll gladly dance.”
Xinlong laughed, giving Geonwoo’s chest a halfhearted push, warmth spreading all over his body, certainly manifesting on his face. Geonwoo smiled back, wide and brilliant, and Xinlong wrapped both arms around Geonwoo’s torso, pulling him in.
Geonwoo feathered the very tip of his fingers to brush a few hair strands away from Xinlong’s eye. “Let me kiss you again,” he said, tilting Xinlong’s face upwards.
“You can do whatever you want to me, hyung,” Xinlong said.
With a drawn-out, theatrical groan, Geonwoo claimed Xinlong’s mouth again.