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Chapter Text

“You’re actually telling me you don’t have a single copy of Harry Potter for sale.”

“Yep.”

“Not a single one, among all of these books.”

“Nope.”

“What kind of bookstore are you running here?”

“One that specializes in airplanes and anything pertaining to the sky and aviation, ma’am.”

“Well, you just lost a valuable customer.”

“Alright.” Kun lazily waves at the woman angrily stomping away and muttering under her breath, the little bell on the door ringing loudly as she storms out.

It’s interactions with people like her that makes Kun question his decision to up-end his life in China to open a specialized bookstore in a backstreet of a Seoul neighbourhood. It’s probably nestled on the number three spot in his top ten of WTF decisions, very closely behind that time when he decided to bleach his hair back in college after going through a small identity crisis. At least it got him laid a couple of times, but the scalp burn… not worth it.

As for the number one - Kun doesn’t like to talk about it. It’s quite terrible, really, involving at least four different people, three different languages across two different continents and a whole lot of headaches. Anyway. Regardless of its high position on his WTF decisions list, he’s fond of his little bookshop The Blue Antonov. Kun almost has no regrets. Almost.

His phone rings, momentarily distracting him from his thoughts re: his bad decisions, only to be reminded of another one of his questionable decisions as he reads the caller ID. Little Cabbage.

“Kun-ge!” Chenle wails, his high pitched voice ringing in Kun’s ears. 

“I was just about to call you, are you okay?” He’d expected Chenle to wobble in about an hour ago. His one and only part-timer is a habitual late-comer, usually coming in at least half an hour too late to all of his shifts. Kun chalks it up to the kid’s carefree nature, and he can’t be bothered to reprimand the kid for it. And he’s too adorable.

He had already figured something must’ve happened and wanted to check up on Chenle earlier, but then Miss Potter came waltzing in and she’d wasted about thirty minutes of his life insisting on buying her fucking book. Why was it so hard for people to understand that a bookstore with about twenty different model airplanes hanging from the ceiling and book displays decorated exclusively with airplanes only fucking sold books about— you’ve guessed it— airplanes. Kun will never understand.

“’M sorry, we had a visitor at my house and I couldn’t miss it! I’m coming!” Chenle pants, his sneakers squeaking across concrete in the background.

“Are you running? It’s fine you don’t have to rush. Oh, and can you get me my coffee, Lele?”

“Yessir! Issit slow today?” Chenle says, catching his breath and slowing down from his jog.

Kun snorts. “One actual paying customer and one very angry lady looking for Harry Potter in about,” he cranes his head to look at the clock hanging behind him, “two and a half hours of being open.”

“Ah, that sucks bro. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Don’t forget my coffee,” Kun reminds him.

“Right! Twenty minutes then!” Chenle screams into the phone before hanging up. Kun will probably see him in an hour.

Kun isn’t bothered by Chenle being late. He doesn’t actually need a part-timer as he’s perfectly capable of doing inventory, customer service and accountancy on his own. With an average rate of two customers per three hours, Kun has plenty of time to handle his little business, but the company is welcome.

But Chenle had walked in one day, eyes wide at the walls lined with shelves stuffed to the brim with books and airplanes dangling from the ceiling, paper planes tastefully strewed about the store. He’d shuffled nervously on his feet, asking him in broken Korean if he was hiring.

“No,” Kun had replied in Chinese, laughing at the way Chenle’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “But if you tell me why you’re interested in working for me then I might.”

He’d stayed the entire afternoon talking to Kun about how his family moved recently and how he was nervous about starting school in a foreign country. He wanted to practice his Korean and gain some life skills that didn’t involve having to rely on using his family name or money. Kun had already figured Chenle was a Young Master from some kind of rich family, and he certainly wasn’t wrong. It turned out that his family acquired basically half of the neighbourhood. Kun couldn’t say no to a kid who sincerely wanted to improve himself. Especially one this adorable.

So, Kun has a part-timer he doesn’t actually need who more or less does menial tasks and gets his coffee a few times a day from Ten’s café next door. He’ll dust off the bookshelves without even being told to do so, he’ll answer the phone if Kun is in the bathroom or otherwise occupied, and is great at helping customers with a warm smile. When there’s nothing for him to do, Chenle camps out in the little reading nook under the stairs leading up to another floor where Kun keeps the books on astrology and aliens (which Ten and Xiaojun forced him to add to his stock) doing homework, or reading one of the store’s books. Sometimes he’ll be alone, but more often than not he’ll be accompanied by his group of friends who have taken it upon themselves to use the Antonov as their study space. Kun doesn’t mind the kids coming over almost daily— they are actually the nicest teenagers he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. Plus, they bring him snacks every time they come over. Maybe Kun needs to be a little more mindful of his diet. Working and living next to Ten’s café means that he is often regarded as a dumping ground for their baked rejects. Kun can’t say that he hates it.

A quick glance at the wall shows that it’s almost noon, meaning that Chenle is almost two hours late. But more importantly, it’s almost time for lunch. He made the sickest bulgogi sandwiches yesterday before he went to sleep for him and Chenle, if he’ll ever arrive, and honestly, Kun has been looking forward to eating them ever since he woke up this morning.

Yeah, Kun’s highlights of his days are his lunches and dinners. Sue him. He learned early on in his career of running a specialized bookshop that it basically fucking sucked unless you’re able to find pleasures in the little things life does throw at you.

For Kun, that means delicious lunches, having a dozen or so regular customers who respect him and his work, being the guardian of a little squadron of teenagers who hook him up with snacks and keep him up to date on neighbourhood as well as their school’s gossips, and having a solid friend group not even a stones-throw away from him.

Don’t get him wrong, Kun truly loves the store and the life that comes with it. He loves waking up every morning to the sound of four different alarms blaring through the house at the same exact time (6.45AM, Xiaojun forces everyone to stick to the same schedule.) He loves padding down the stairs from his room on the third floor and hearing a chorus of ‘mornin’ kun-ge’ from his housemates on the second floor as he makes his way down to the kitchen on the first floor. He loves the sound of everyone around him getting ready to face the day while he makes them breakfast, and sometimes he’ll make them lunch too if he has enough time. Once everyone piles into the kitchen (Hendery is usually the first, closely followed by Dejun with Yizhuo running in last) Kun will wash up while the other three fight over the food and once they finish inhaling their meals, they’ll inevitably fight over who has to do the dishes.

Meanwhile, Kun’ll take a quick shower, careful to look around the shower cabin in case Yizhuo forgot her gecko again. (Kun shares the first-floor bathroom with Ningning, Xiaojun and Dery have long since commandeered the second-floor bathroom.) Then, he’ll get dressed while the other three decide that they’ll all be helping with the dishes with one person doing the washing and the others doing the drying and storing. That’s also how Kun’ll find them again in the kitchen, bickering and playing around. He’ll have to remind them that they’ll be late to their shifts, classes or other schedules if they don’t hurry up and that’s when the real morning rush starts. Each and every one of them will run up and down the stairs in search of their bags and coats and shoes and trinkets instead of keeping them ready near the door like Kun suggested a million times before. And once they are all out of the door into the Seoul Wilderness, Kun will grab his messenger bag, lock up and walk down the eleven or so stone steps and turn a sharp right to unlock The Blue Antonov.

By the time he walks through the door and deposits his bag behind the counter, it’ll be around eight in the morning or so. That’ll give him an hour to check his emails for new orders and inquiries, do some dusting and take care of other matters before he opens. He loves how the natural light falls into the store, softly illuminating the rows upon rows of bookshelves filled with titles Kun carefully selected himself. From the large picture books, the personal biographies to the aviation study books often bought by aspiring pilots and even the children books for the young enthusiasts – Kun personally picked each and every item to ensure his customers only get the best of the best. And when a customer strolls in and ends up leaving satisfied with their purchase? One of the best feelings in the world, second only to the quiet moments Kun spends in his store. When it’s just Kun sorting through new orders (most of his sales go through the web in this digital world), Chenle dusting off the shelves talking with his friends studying in the nook and (more often than not) Ten coming over from next door to have a chat, Kun thinks it’s all worth it. 

Speaking of the devil, Kun waves at Ten through the window, sees him appraise the new display he’d put up yesterday evening before swinging open the door, bell ringing loudly.

“Nice sweater, Kun. Did you go rummaging through old man Wei’s closet? Lele hasn’t stopped by ours yet, so I thought I’d sacrifice my precious time to deliver your usual. I know, I know I’m such a great person! How’s your ancient body holding up without caffeine?” Ten says, talking a mile a minute, handing Kun a coffee, one sugar no milk. 

Kun takes the mug, reluctantly mumbling a thanks. “Shouldn’t you be looking after your café instead of bullying little old me?”

“Nah, I’m good. My part-timers actually know how to work the store and arrive on time.”

“That’s because your part-timers live in my house above my store situated next to your café.”

“Isn’t it great how life turns out?” Ten hoists himself up on the counter, happily swinging his legs, looking through the papers Kun was busy with like he owns the place. Kun shakes away the mental image of Ten as a cat.  

“Absolutely fucking amazing, Ten.” Kun snatches the papers away from Ten and his prying eyes, carefully storing them in his documents folder. He definitely doesn’t need Ten looking at The Blue Antonov’s financial performance of last month.

“I was actually here to tell you that my friend is coming into town and we’re gonna have a little get together with the gang. You’re coming,” Ten continues, unaffected.

“I am?” Kun asks, taking a long swig from his coffee. “What if I’m busy, though.”

“Yeah, because your schedule’s always fucking packed,” Ten snorts, gesturing dramatically at the empty store. “Do me a favour and like, come and have fun with us. I can’t handle another social event where Doie keeps bitching at me about you being a no-show and Hendery starts drunk-crying even though you guys literally live together.”

“Alright, fine. But only for Hendery.” Kun concedes. The mental image of a crying Kunhang is too much for him to bear. Doyoung can go fuck himself, honestly. Nah, Kun is kidding. Half-kidding.

“Great!” Ten exclaims, hopping off the counter. “Buy a lot of snacks, okay? We’re hanging out at yours. I’ll text you the details.” And with that Ten leaves before Kun can protest, waving at him through the window, running back to his café with a hop in his step. 

Great my ass. It’s shit like this why Kun always cancels on them. He’s going to have to put away his new models before they become weapons of mass destruction in whatever fight that’s inevitably going to break out in his living room when you put all of them together. His friends are sloppy drunks, every single one of them. Except for Taeil and Sicheng. God bless them. Kun can’t even recall how many times he and Sicheng had to break up a drunken fight between Ten and Doyoung ever since their college days back in China. He stupidly thought that they would grow out of their petty fighting over time, but alas their fights only grew in intensity. (It was probably because of all the growing-up they had to do. The frustration kind of builds up you know, adulting is actually really hard.) Yuta had once jokingly said that they should live-stream their fights and have people take bets on who’d win to earn a little bit of extra cash. Taeyong and Jaehyun had suggested they’d fight shirtless so they could charge a higher fee for watching and Taeil offered to create the website. That’s when Kun decided to step in to prevent his friends from essentially starting a niche soft-porn business. He was really getting too old for their bullshit.

Oh well, despite their weird tendencies Kun still considers them his best friends.

“Kun-ge! I made it!” Almost exactly an hour after their phone call, Chenle walks into the store with a big smile on his flushed face. “Sorry for being so late, but some big Hollywood production is going to be shot on one of our estates. And get this – they’ll be filming at the main house too! My backyard is going to be in a movie! Do you think if I hang around in the background I’ll get filmed too? Isn’t it exciting!”

“That’s nice, Lele,” Kun says, waving off his apology, only half registering the rush of words coming out of Chenle’s mouth. There will be enough time for chit-chat later, but first. “I made lunch, do you want some?”

“Yeah!”

***

The old Chinese couple, grandma and grandpa Wei, who previously owned the store were long-time friends of Kun’s grandparents and sold Kun their little traditional medicine store including their house above it for a sweet price so they could retire and return to China. The house spanned over four floors and was way too big for a single person with its four bedrooms, two bathrooms and huge attic space.

When Kun decided he would rent out the three bedrooms to earn some cash he’d told himself he would be extremely selective of his potential housemates. This plan was, of course, foiled by Ten when he told him that he had a few Chinese friends who were looking for a place to stay near their campuses. In hindsight, Kun should’ve known they would be wack. How normal could they be if they were friends with Ten out of their own accord?

Nevertheless, Kun took in Dejun, Hendery and Yizhuo, three graduate students at the local university who were indeed in dire need of an affordable place to stay. How could Kun say no to desperate students in need? More pressingly, how could Kun say no to Ten? Seriously? Does anyone have a solution? His eyes and wicked smile, they really pull you into his orbit.

Renting out his spare rooms to three interesting individuals often results in Kun finding himself in peculiar situations. There was that one time when Kun found Dejun, Hendery and Yizhuo huddled around the couch, only to find out that Yizhuo brought home a pet gecko from her laboratory, which she proudly announced as the gecko pooped on his cushion, or that one time Dejun and Hendery decided to use the empty space in the attic as a dance studio, which resulted in Hendery’s foot breaking through the floor panels right above Kun’s bed after a particularly intense dance move.

And, more often than Kun would personally like, he encounters barely clothed and sometimes even naked strangers in his home. Yizhuo has no time or patience for casual dalliances, the 18-year-old genius is usually much too busy working on one of her experiments or a new art piece. But Dejun and Hendery… Oh, to be in your early twenties again.

Yes, finding naked strangers in his house happens often enough that Kun’s at a point in his life where he barely bats an eyelid at encountering unknown dick and balls in his own house. So, when Kun’s dancing up the stairs after he closed up his shop, singing softly as he punches in the code of his front door, full of excitement at the prospect of working on his new figurines or maybe watch a movie with whoever’s available, he only startles a little bit when he opens the door to see a Naked Man standing in his hallway.

Kun speaks up first. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi there,” Naked Man waves sheepishly, his one hand very late to cover his crotch to conceal his situation. While his hands are, admittedly, rather large Kun can still see, well, the entire package. Nice.

“Who are you with?” Kun asks, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation. He doesn’t want to potentially embarrass him any further. Naked Man seems a little bit on the older side for Hendery’s tastes. Maybe he’s with Dejun? The guy does like experimenting, but he usually stays within his own age group when exploring his kinks and Naked Man looks like he’s more around Kun’s own age.

Confused, Naked Man tilts his head. “Uh, no one?”

Okay, uh, what the fuck. Kun grabs one of the umbrellas next to the coat stand, swinging Xiaojun’s lady-bug printed umbrella at the now Uninvited Naked Man. “How did you get in? Who are you?”

Uninvited Naked Man yelps, bracing himself for impact. “Wait! Don’t hit me!”

Kun swipes at the guy’s dangling bits with Xiaojun’s umbrella. “Shut up, pervert!”

“Ten told me to come here! He gave me the code and everything!”

Kun pauses, mid-swing. Ugh, of course, Uninvited Naked Man is an acquaintance of Ten. They almost always are. Kun has to change his door code and not tell Ten the combination next time. He slumps, dropping the umbrella on the hardwood floor and tries to calm down his racing heart. “You’re his friend then? The one who’s visiting?”

“That’ll be me. I’m Johnny,” Johnny says, going back to cover his, you know, now that he isn’t in immediate danger of being bludgeoned to death by umbrella.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kun,” Kun forces the words out, his knees feeling like jelly. Nothing like a naked visitor to get the blood rushing, in more ways than one.

“Likewise, Kun. I’d shake your hand, but my nuts are kinda hanging loose. Ten forgot to give me a towel before he left me here. I was looking for one when you walked in,” Johnny explains with a shrug.

“Right. Of course. Let me get you a towel.” Kun slides past Johnny and the little puddle of water forming in the hallway to get to the linen cupboard and - oh okay Johnny used his shampoo? Nice, okay, cool. “Unless you prefer to air dry?” Kun jokes as he takes out a big fluffy yellow towel from the cupboard and hands it to his slightly shivering guest.

“Not in the company of strangers,” Johnny laughs, half-heartedly rubbing the towel over his very defined, very nice looking body. “Although we’re hardly strangers by now.” He winks, eyes full of mirth, little droplets of water cling to his eyelashes. A small drop falls from his lashes, landing on his slightly protruding lower lip. Johnny licks it away.

Shit, that’s hot. Kun needs to go. “Right. Well. Do as you please. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Didn’t you just come up, though?” Johnny says, finally wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Yep. I’m going back down now.” Kun turns, attempting to make a quick exit.

“Wait.” Johnny grabs Kun by the hem of his sweater. “Just, um, where are you going? This house is so big and it smells like my dad’s medicine it kind of creeps me out, please don’t leave me alone.”

Kun tenses, looking over his shoulder at the guy who’s still dripping on his floor despite the towel. What the hell is he so afraid of when he’s that big and tall? And he’s still. So. Fucking. Naked. The towel covers nothing. Kun kind of wants to sigh and scream all in one go but instead, he says, “I’m going to my shop. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join me once you’re ready.”

“Really?”

Kun nods, trying not to think about how his eyes are basically at Johnny’s nipple height.

“Thanks, Kun! I appreciate it.” Johnny beams, loosening his hold on Kun’s sweater, patting awkwardly at the crumpled fabric.

Kun nods and runs out the door. Very smooth.

He thunders down the stairs and struggles with his keys for a bit before he remembers that Johnny isn’t here anymore so he can, like, relax for a second and open the shop door without acting like he’s being followed by a serial killer. It’s dark inside, because he closed the shop not even ten minutes ago, duh. The blinds are closed and the shutters are down, but Kun isn’t ready to potentially face Johnny again in full light, so he keeps it this way for his own peace of mind. He stumbles across the store, stubbing his toe on a display, fumbles around in the dark looking for the light switch in the nook under the stairs and settles in his favourite armchair.  

Right. So. Hot Naked Man. Johnny is his name. Ten’s friend. The one who’s in town for the next two weeks. For once, not a sexy-time guest of one of his housemates. Big, big... hands. Interesting. Kun has much to think about. Particularly, the way Johnny looked absolutely unashamed at being caught naked, not even bothering to properly cover himself. Kun is not going to lie, but that kind of confidence is hot as hell. And why should that man be embarrassed? Big cock. Uh, hands. Right.

In between being caught off-guard at the naked surprise and then thinking he was a naked burglar or some shit, Kun did get a proper look at Johnny. His hair was a wet soft brown mess on his head— Kun’s sure that it looks better when it’s not wet and tangled in a crazy knot, but his face. Kun doesn’t know if his eyes were slightly hooded because he just came out of the shower all relaxed and warm and flushed, or if Johnny always looks like he’s about to beckon people into his sex cave for some spicy times. Kun is afraid to find out. Beneath the cutest nose he’s ever seen with his own two eyes were quite possibly the most sinful lips Kun has ever encountered in his life, all plump and defined. Much to fucking think about. His long neck tapered down to broad shoulders and a slim but defined waist. And oh – the hair trailing down southwards. Kun doesn’t know how appropriate it is to think about his best friend’s friend’s pubes but yeah, here he is thinking about his best friend’s friend’s pubes. He is strongly in favour of happy trails, doesn’t really understand the whole manscaping hype and clearly Johnny doesn’t either God bless his beautiful soul.

In a half-assed effort to stop lusting after Ten’s extremely hot friend, Kun smacks himself in the face a couple of times and opens the drawer on the low table. He fishes out the book he’s reading, The Old Man And The Sea, and drifts off to Cuba.

About a chapter and a half later, the shop door opens with a ring, the bell bringing Kun back to his semi-ritzy neighbourhood in Seoul.

Right. It’s him. This time not naked, but still very attractive. He ditched the towel for a casual look, wearing a fluffy beige coat and a simple black t-shirt over blue jeans, sporting round black-rimmed glasses. Against literally no one’s expectations, Johnny still looks incredibly cute.

“Hi, I hope I’m not imposing,” Johnny says, stepping inside the store, gingerly closing the door behind him in an effort to be as silent as possible.

“Not at all, please come in,” Kun says, beckoning him inside. He stuffs the flower bookmark Chenle made for him in his beat-up novel and watches his new visitor stand awkwardly at the entrance. “Would you like a drink? I only have tea, though.”

“Tea sounds great, thanks.” Johnny walks further into the store, drifting over to read the titles carefully stored in the shelves, fingers ghosting over the works in the low light. “This is your store, right? I think Ten mentioned you a few times. You’re the one with the specialized bookshop then?”

“That’s me,” Kun says as he works his kettle behind the counter. “You know that Ten’s café is next door right? He’s definitely in if you’d like to stop by his place.”

“He told me to come over when I was done, but his café gets pretty crowded. I prefer more peaceful places,” Johnny says, eyes fixated on Kun’s ceiling full of airplanes. “Like yours.”

“Fair enough. I prefer it too.” Kun smiles at Johnny, but the other is busy snapping pictures with his phone. He watches Johnny wander around filling the small space of the bookshop with his large presence. Kun decides it’s in everyone’s best interest if he focuses on watching the water finish its boil. “What brings you to town?”

“I’m here for a job,” Johnny says. He doesn’t offer more information, so Kun doesn’t ask about the specifics.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Kun continues. The kettle clicks off. “Do you travel a lot for work?”

“I’m usually not in Korea, so I’m happy to be back again.”

“Where are you usually, then?” Kun asks, pouring the tea (jasmine green tea courtesy of Chenle’s friend Renjun) in his nicest teapot. It’s a blue teapot decorated with delicate white flowers given to him as a gift by the Old Wei’s who sold him the store. He only busts it out for special occasions. A hot man in his store definitely counts as a special occasion.

“I’m from Chicago, but now I live in LA,” Johnny says, making his way over to the counter. “What about you? You don’t sound Korean?” He asks, taking the teapot from Kun gesturing over to the nook, and Kun nods in approval. He carefully handles the ceramic in his large hands as he walks to the cosy space, making sure it lands softly on the low table.

“I’m from China, actually.” Kun follows him to the nook, two teacups in hand. “How is Los Angeles? I’ve always wanted to go to America.”

Johnny settles in Kun’s favourite armchair, Kun has nowhere else to go but to sit opposite him on the L-shaped sofa.

“If you’re ever in LA come visit me, okay? I’ll let you use my shower, too.” Johnny laughs. “I had a hunch you were from China. I love it there, the food’s delicious.”

Kun pours their tea and passes a cup to the other with a laugh. “Thanks for the offer, I’ll use your shampoo then, too.”

“That was yours?” Johnny chokes a bit on his tea. “It smelled nice and the other shampoo bottle in the bathroom was for colour-treated hair, so I figured I’d just use yours. I’ll buy you a new one to make it up to you.”

Kun shrugs, smiling behind his cup. “Don’t worry about it, I buy my shampoo in bulk when it’s on discount. I love the smell too.”

“Damn, hook me up.”

“Sure.” Kun laughs, sipping his tea.

“Is it okay if I look around?” Johnny asks, eyeing some of the shelves in the back of the shop.

“Knock yourself out,” Kun says, grabbing his novel from where he discarded it on the table. “I’ll be over here reading,”

“Thanks, Kun.” Johnny takes the dainty little teacup in his large hand, sniffing at the fragrant tea as he walks through the store, occasionally taking a sip from his drink.

Kun is painfully aware of Johnny’s movements through the shop. It’s not an awfully huge place, honestly. He would call The Blue Antonov on the smaller side, but Ten has always complimented him on his smart usage of the space to create the illusion of someplace bigger. The high ceilings, large windows and open floor plan make the entire place look clear and bright, which is offset by the dark wooden interior. He wonders if Johnny noticed the paper airplanes he folded together with his usual teenage suspects (Jeno had a real knack for it), wonders if he’s even remotely interested in airplanes and aviation, or if he’s bored out of his mind at the selection Kun provides. He briefly considers notifying Johnny of the existence of the second floor where the more conventional books (AKA Ten and co. approved books) were situated, but it isn’t long before Johnny finds the section on his own.

Johnny shoots him a quick smile as he puts down his empty teacup next to Kun’s own before he ascends the stairs. Kun can hear him walk around right as he disappears from his sight, floorboards creaking above him under Johnny’s weight. Then, Kun hears him leafing through one of the books and he wants to kick himself in the head for not having a more serious interest in aliens and astrology. Yes, he does know every single title and date of release up there by heart, but Ten and Xiaojun were the ones who did the real reading. He’s never seen a star war or a star trek, and now he is bearing the brunt of it.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Johnny calls out from above, head popping over the bannister to look at Kun. “Wanna order pizza?”

“I could actually really go for pizza right now,” Kun says, closing his book.

“What do you want? I’ll order pizzas and fries and shit.” Johnny descends the stairs, fiddling with his phone and almost walks into the counter in front of him, before sheepishly creeping over to the nook.

“Could you get me a Hawaiian, please?”

“Pineapple? On pizza?” Johnny frowns, plopping down next to him on the sofa.

Kun shrugs. “Yeah, I like it.”

“And here I thought you were perfect,” Johnny tuts.

“What made you think I’d be perfect? Pineapple on pizza is absolutely valid Mr I-just-substituted-my-tomato-base-for-BBQ-sauce. Yeah, I saw that don’t look so scandalized.” Kun scoffs.

“How is your eyesight so good?” Johnny says, scandalized.

“Laser surgery.” Kun deadpans. “Order my pizza or suffer.”

“Fine, fine.” Johnny relents, offering up his phone to Kun. “Could you type in the address?”

“Do you want to eat here or at the house? I hope you’re not permanently freaked out by the smell of my place. Ten’s planning on throwing you a party there.” Kun belatedly remembers. Shit, he is so not looking forward to hosting.

“Wherever is fine. I’ll be okay as long as you’re there,” Johnny says, watching Kun tap away on his phone.

“Right, okay.” Kun coughs. “Let’s have them deliver it here, I’ll die of starvation before I can make it up the stairs.”

“I could carry you upstairs.” Johnny offers and Kun can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Please don’t, let’s just veg out here. Plus, if we go back up we might have to share the food.”

“Smart. I hate sharing food.”

“But you don’t mind sharing with me?”

“I gotta appease the kind-hearted guy who almost bludgeoned me to death ‘cause I surprised him with all my naked glory.”

“Alright.” Kun laughs. “I’ll eat everything you’re getting.”

“Not if I eat everything first.” Johnny challenges, taking back his phone from Kun’s fingers. Kun resolutely ignores the way the brush of his fingers makes his belly churn.

“You wouldn’t. What happened to appeasing me?”

“You just said you’d eat everything, I have to fight for my food.”

“Get out of my store,” Kun says, trying to push Johnny off the couch, but the fucker doesn’t budge.

“Please no!” Johnny flails, flopping down to lay down on the couch. “I’ll be forced to go to Ten and he’s so annoying.”

Kun moves, only barely avoiding ending up with a lap full of Johnny’s head. “He really is, isn’t he,” he replies, playing it cool.

“I don’t know why we’re his friends,” Johnny says, looking up at him from below.

Kun clears his throat. “It’s the smile.”

Johnny hums. “It’s like he has us under a spell.”

“Hey, but at least we got to meet because of him.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Johnny says, scooting over to- oh, fuck, okay settle his head in Kun’s lap.

“Not even in a less naked way? You know we were going to meet anyway, right?” Kun manages to squeak out and forces himself to, like, relax. He doesn’t know what power in the world is granting him this sudden confidence and ability to stay more or less calm and not freak the fuck out in front of Johnny, so he shoots a quick thanks to every single deity he knows off the top of his head just to be sure.

“Maybe in a more naked way?” Johnny cocks his head, eyes full of mirth and Kun swears he is laughing at him. He’s totally fucking doing this on purpose. Wait, is he fucking flirting? He’s fucking flirting, isn’t he?

“Okay enough chit-chat,” Kun says, flicking Johnny’s forehead in retaliation. “Please order the food my stomach is going to cave in on itself”

Johnny laughs and the warm sound lights up the entire store. “Anything for you, Kun.”

They wait like that for the food to arrive. Kun trying to read his book in peace, while doing everything in his power not to stare at Johnny who’s playing some game on his phone with full concentration. It is, obviously, excruciatingly difficult to focus on his book instead of his lap full of hot man and he’s about eighty percent sure that Johnny knows he’s driving him absolutely crazy.

Johnny must know what he’s doing to him because Kun hasn’t turned a single page in the last fifteen minutes and he swears Johnny is smirking ever so slightly. Honestly, Kun just kind of wants to collapse.

There’s a knock on the shop door and Kun practically flings himself off the couch, ignoring the little ‘ouch’ Johnny lets out after getting the life knocked out of him. It’s what he deserves for teasing him for the last… well, actually, the entire fucking time Kun’s known him. He thanks the delivery guy who just stares at him with hopeful eyes, so Kun hands him some change and a piece of lint he manages to fish out from his pocket. He swears that Johnny had already tipped online, though. Maybe the kid was strapped for cash. We’ve all been there.

Kun brings the bags full of delicious oily goodness to the nook and Johnny clears everything from the low table, carefully tucking in his flower bookmark at the page where he lingered for the past twenty fucking minutes. Kun wants to punch him. But he doesn’t. Instead, they eat.

Chapter Text

Kun thinks it has to have been a while since Johnny’s last meal, because the way he’s wolfing down his food like someone’s about to take it away from him is downright frightening. They've relocated from the couch to the floor in order to prevent the food from spilling all over the place, hanging over the boxes stuffed with food like they were a pair of dirty frat boys or some shit, and Johnny honestly fits the part right now. But hey, they have to make do with what they have, right?

They’ve pretty much been occupied with eating ever since the delivery kid dropped off all their food, and while Kun doesn’t feel awkward per se, their amicable silence is giving his mind the opportunity to over-think every single thing that’s happened over the past two hours.

“So, how did you get to know Ten?” Kun asks, hoping that Johnny hears him over the sounds of his aggressive eating. He kinda looks like a bear munching on his food, all hunched over with full concentration. Cute.

Johnny startles and the way he looks up from his food makes Kun think that he forgot he was here too. Kun has to bite back a laugh as he sheepishly puts down his half-mauled slice of pizza and carefully wipes his mouth. He misses a little dot of BBQ sauce above the right corner of his lip, but Kun doesn’t have to heart to tell him. He’s doing his best.

“I met him when we were foreign exchange students at an international high school in Seoul.” 

“Huh, that’s funny. I met Ten when he was on exchange at my university in China.”

“I remember him going to China for his exchange when we were in college together,” Johnny says, thinking it over in his mind as he takes a sip of his drink. Then he gasps, almost choking on his soda and his eyes widen in realization. “Wait, are you one of the guys who—”

“I’m going to have to stop you right there.” Kun groans. Not this shit again. When will it fucking end? When will people stop reminding him of it? “Yes, that would be me and no, it was absolutely not my fault. Ten keeps twisting the story and I swear to god I will kill him one day.”

“You have to tell me your version of what happened, some things still don’t add up. Like, when did you all plan the whole Bangkok thing? How did you guys just end up there?” Johnny asks softly.

“Let’s not talk about this, we were having such a nice evening.” Kun shakes his head, trying to dispel the memories from his mind. Fucking Bangkok. Fucking Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.  

“Okay, as you wish,” Johnny acquiesces, but Kun can hear the laughter in his voice and he just knows this won’t be the fucking end of it.  

“Wait,” Kun remembers. “What were you doing on an exchange at a South Korean high school, though?”

Johnny shrugs as he leans back against the couch. “My mom and dad sent me to Korea for a few months to make sure I got a proper taste of my own culture. It was awful.”

“How come?”

“You know how it is, school is awful in itself but going to high school in a foreign country. It sucked big time. I stuck to Ten like glue,” Johnny says, sipping at his soda.

“I bet he hated that.” Kun can already imagine teenager Ten being annoyed as fuck at the Korean guy following him around. Hilarious.    

“Yeah,” Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling at the memory, lips oily from his pizza. “He didn’t speak a single word of Korean but he just seemed to fit in, or at least, much better than I did, ‘ya know? Kids are scary.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Kun says, absently chewing on his food, thinking of how he has to rely on Chenle and his friends to keep him up to date on what’s hip in the current day and age. They are nice kids, but he’s bewildered at how their minds work. He remembers being much more naive at their age than they are now. Kids are scary. “You’re right.”

Johnny takes a long swig of his soda. “Making friends is hard.”

Kun can’t help but snicker at Johnny’s dramatics. “I’m having a hard time imagining you as a socially stunted person. How long ago was this?”

“I’d say this was about 14 years ago,” Johnny concludes after thinking about it for a second. “Fifteen years old me could never imagine I’d be here being this friendly with someone I just met while naked.”

“Oh, so you’re a year older than I am?” Kun tucks away that piece of information in the back of his head. “If it makes you feel any better, fifteen years old me could also never imagine being in South Korea eating pizza with some random Korean-American guy.”

“Some random Korean-American guy, huh,” Johnny articulates, carefully sounding out the words. “Is it weird that I like the sound of that?”

Kun shrugs. “To each his own, Johnny. To each his own.”

“Wait, all of this is  and  the whole place above it is yours and you’re, what, twenty-eight?” Johnny gestures at the store.

“Please don’t look at me like that, it’s all just pure luck. You somehow travel the world for your job while I barely make sales.”

“But you look like you’ve got everything in check, though.”

“Looks can be deceiving, but I get by.” Honestly, Kun is lucky he can keep his business afloat solely through his housemates and the meagre amount of monthly sales he manages to generate.  “You look like you’ve got everything under control too.”

“As you said, looks can be deceiving.” Johnny shrugs.

“This is starting to get depressing,” Kun says, closing his now empty pizza box. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“You want to get out of here or do you have a secret cabinet filled with alcohol somewhere?” Johnny says, tidying up their oily boxes of mostly eaten food.

Kun laughs. “Sadly, I don’t, maybe I’ll have one installed, though. We could go for a drink?”

“I don’t like crowded places,” Johnny says, a bit shyly perhaps, not meeting Kun’s gaze as he busies himself with sorting out their dirty boxes.

It’s a bit strange, Kun thinks, how Johnny seems so comfortable within his own skin when he teases him to hell and back, but then he’s so shy in the next. So Kun nods and helps Johnny with tidying the nook. The mood has come and gone, just like that, and Kun’s left with the taste of regret. He shouldn’t have brought up going out, Johnny did mention before that he doesn’t like busy places. Maybe he should call it a day, they had a good time together, and he’ll probably see him around before Johnny has to leave again. He still has time, right? Tonight won’t be the end of this thing, whatever the fuck it is, right?

But he doesn’t want it to end before anything had the chance to begin. Not yet. Not like this.

“We can go to my place." Kun doesn’t know what kind of demon is in possession of his body that gives him the confidence to actually voice out the words, and he wants to kick himself in the head for blurting out an invitation to someone who’s probably a natural flirt or something. He prepares himself for a rejection, (Johnny’s been great up until now so he’ll be nice about it right?) but Johnny pauses and cocks his head at him, slightly pursing his lips in a little smile, and- oh his eyes, they kind of twinkle in the low light of the nook.

“Alright, lead the way.”

Johnny is quick to dispose of their dirty boxes and empty soda cans in the trashcans across the street while Kun locks up the store. He watches Johnny struggle with the boxes, trying to carry everything in one go (he offered to help, but he got shrugged off with a confident ‘I got this’). He does actually manage to haul their trash in one trip, so Kun has to give him that one.

He braces himself while he waits for Johnny to jog up to him. Kun can’t believe he’s inviting Johnny to come up to his place and get drunk in his room, he doesn’t even particularly like getting drunk (not after Bangkok) nor does he like having people he doesn’t exactly know in his house, but here he is doing exactly that. Although there’s definitely something going on between them, Kun is only about 60% sure Johnny has been flirting with him the entire time for whatever unfathomable reason. Honestly, it’s been a hot fucking minute for Kun since the last time he’s done anything remotely resembling whatever this entire evening with Johnny might be. And with Ten’s friend nonetheless.

Kun is usually not someone who would ever fornicate within his own social circle, nor is he someone who goes out of his way to meet up with strangers for casual dating but maybe that’s the reason why his social circle is so fucking small and he’s gotten laid maybe once or twice in this entire fucking year (it’s fucking October already.) Maybe he’s being so bold cause he knows Johnny’s only in town for a little while, but maybe he’s being so bold because Johnny’s being bold, too.

“Kun,” Johnny says, or at least Kun thinks that’s what he says cause he can hardly hear anything over the way he can hear his heart race and blood rush right in his ears, as he nears the bottom of the stairs. Like this, with Kun standing on the step above him, he and Johnny are eye to eye. “We don’t have to do this.”

Kun is kind of done with not doing or only doing what he has to do instead of doing what he wants to do. It’s more or less the reason why he left China to play independent store-owner in a time where the printed word is a dying craft, only staying afloat because luck would have it, only staying sane cause he keeps within his limits. He doesn’t want Johnny to be out of his limit, doesn’t want him to stay out of reach when he’s standing so, so close. So he shakes his head, forgets about all the reasons why he never does shit like this and holds out his hand. “Come on.”

Johnny grins and he takes Kun’s hand in his own, palm kind of sweaty but his grasp is secure. Kun has never been one to enjoy holding hands, but he can’t help but marvel at how their fingers slot perfectly against each other, even though they are a bit sticky and gross from their food.

“I’m going to check if anyone’s home first, so be quiet for a second,” Kun half-whispers as they climb the eleven or so stone stairs to the front door.

“Why are we sneaking around?” Johnny whispers back, rubbing circles into Kun’s skin with his thumb. 

“If the others know we’re drinking they’re going to want to join and trust me, you don’t want them to join.”

“How do you know I don’t want them around?” Johnny teases, ducking closer to Kun, crowding him against the door.

“Okay, fine. I don’t want them around. They get noisy, I’m not in the mood.”

“You only had to say you want me all for yourself, Kun.”

“Well, you just had to pry it out then I guess,” Kun pouts, untangling his fingers from Johnny’s. He slides open the keypad with a little more force than necessary. This guy plays too much.   

Johnny chuckles, sneaking his arm around Kun’s waist, nudging at him to open the door already. “Don’t be mad.”

“Shut up.” Kun flushes. He punches in the code and steps inside, feeling cold where Johnny had been standing right up against him.

“Ningning? Xiaojun? Hendery? Anyone?” Kun yells. He waits a beat for an answer, but he’s greeted with nothing but silence. Sweet. “Alright, come on in,” he says, tugging Johnny inside. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his coat before padding off towards the kitchen, leaving Johnny standing in the hall like a chump.

“Are you coming or what?” Johnny’s been inside before, so Kun hardly thinks he has to escort him in. It takes another beat before he hears the other move, shucking off his coat and shoes.

“I didn’t get the chance to say it before, but I like your place. It’s very charming,” Johnny says when he finally walks into the kitchen while Kun’s busy washing his hands.

“Even though it smells like medicine?”

Johnny laughs, leaning against the counter next to Kun. “It doesn’t creep me out as much now that I’m not alone.”

“Good,” Kun says, rummaging through his cabinets and then the fridge. “Let me see, there’s vodka vanilla and.. cheap beer. What’s your poison?”

“What if we don’t?” Johnny asks, scooting closer.

Kun turns, a little puzzled at the question. He closes the fridge with his hip and settles against the counter with a questioning look. “It’s all I have.”

“No, I mean, let’s not drink tonight,” Johnny says, his voice low as he steps into Kun’s space.

Kun freezes, his hands instinctively coming up to push the other away, but the expression in Johnny’s eyes as he looks up at him makes him pause. Then, before he can ask what he thinks he’s doing, or why he’s looking at him with a softness he’s never seen, Johnny hooks his chin over Kun’s shoulder and his hands snake behind his back. The water starts running. The motherfucker is washing his fucking hands.

“Alright, no pressure,” Kun manages to squeak out. He kind of wants to knee Johnny in the nuts for being annoying, but he figures he can let him have his fun for a little while. Besides, up close like this, with his nose nuzzled right against the nape of Johnny’s neck, Kun can smell his cologne. It’s nice, the scent reminding him a little of a warm summer day, sandalwood and a hint of his own citrusy shampoo. He waits until Johnny turns off the faucet and he’s done washing his hands to shove him away. Kun throws him a towel. “You can come up to the third floor when you’re done being an ass.”

He climbs the staircase up to the third, not waiting for Johnny to follow him.  

This is the first time in god knows how long that someone new is in his room. He keeps his place (more or less spotless) at all times, so he knows Johnny isn’t going to find anything weird or gross, but it's foreign and a little bit nerve-wracking to see Johnny walk around in his personal space.

Kun sits on the floor next to his bed, playing with the stack of cards he keeps on his nightstand as he watches Johnny survey his room.

Okay, to be completely honest, Kun’s room is a little bit cluttered with bits and bobs lying around on every possible surface. It’s a given when owning a bookstore that your own room, obviously, will be littered with books too. The left wall of his room is basically fully occupied by his large, oak bookcase stuffed to the brim with books. He swears he’ll replace it one of these days with one that’s big enough for his entire collection. His desk is crammed right next to the bookcase, which he usually keeps neat and tidy, but he’s been busy with his accountancy these past few evenings, so granted it’s a bit of a mess. He knocked over the spaceship travel mug (Jaemin jokingly gave him for his birthday because he never travels anywhere so he’s been using it as a penholder) when he was getting ready for work this morning and he hasn’t had the time to clean it yet. He has a few model planes displayed on top of his piano next to an old picture of him, Sicheng, Doyoung and Ten in fucking Bangkok.

“You have a lot of these,” Johnny says, picking up one of the many origami airplanes Kun still has laying around from when he and the teens made them for the store. Jeno probably made this particular one Johnny’s holding, since it’s neatly folded. “Did you want to be a pilot?”

“Yeah,” Kun says. “It was my big dream when I was little. I’m here, instead.”

Johnny hums, carefully putting the paper plane back on the piano. He settles next to Kun on the floor, leaning back against Kun’s bed, shoulder to shoulder. “You still have time, you know. You’re still young.”

“Maybe, but you know. I think I’m happy. Like, with where I am and where I can go.”

“That’s good.”

“How about you? What did you want to do when you were little?” Kun asks, bumping his arm against Johnny’s.

“Nothing, really.” Johnny’s voice is quiet when he answers. “I didn’t have much of a dream. I still don’t.”

“Nothing at all?” 

“If I have to think of something, then maybe... owning my own private Island? It would just be me and the waves,” Johnny says, resting his head on Kun’s bed, rubbing his cheek against the cool sheets.

Kun laughs. He can already see Johnny on a deserted island, surfboard in hand, sunglasses perched on his cute nose. Throwing caution to the wind, and probably doing something stupid like surfing naked or some shit. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Yeah, it does but...” Johnny trails off.

“But what?”

“Turn your head.”

“Why?”

“Come on, do it for me.”

Kun listens, turning around to see Johnny staring at him, eyes a bit glossed over. He looks a bit tired around the eyes, but he seems comfortable in Kun’s space. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Stop being so good-looking then,” Johnny replies without missing a beat.

“Fuck, that’s so corny,” Kun says, shoving at Johnny.

Johnny catches his hands, tugging him closer. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it really, really is,” Kun says, falling into Johnny’s embrace.

“Well, you make me corny.” Johnny pulls him closer, practically dragging Kun into his lap. “I’m corny for you.”

“Shut up and kiss me already.” Kun huffs, settling into his new position.

“You just had to say it.”

“Maybe I want you to just fucking do it.”

“Can I?”

Kun does it instead. It’s sloppy and messy and so good. And he might be making a huge mistake right now, making out with his best friend’s friend who he doesn’t even fucking know and usually, Kun isn’t dumb enough to have flings or whatever this might be within his circle of friends, but honestly he isn’t thinking straight and Johnny is here and amazing and makes him feel secure and wanted and it’s so right . The way Johnny sighs into their kiss, lazily moving against Kun’s lips, tipping his head just so and Kun has to cling onto Johnny’s shirt because he feels like he might be falling despite being seated quite comfortably in Johnny’s lap on the floor. Until he’s not anymore, because Johnny pulls him impossibly close and tugs him up and drops him on his bed like he weighs nothing.

“Is this okay?” Johnny asks, kneeling above Kun on the bed and Kun has to laugh because he already has him panting on his sheets and now he decides to ask?

Kun can only say, “Yeah, just- come here, you idiot” and roughly pulls Johnny down with him.

They don’t come back up.

Sometime halfway through the night, Kun wakes up. He feels impossibly warm, probably because of the way Johnny’s got a death grip on his waist, his head smushed a bit uncomfortably into Kun’s neck. He can feel Johnny’s soft breaths puffing rhythmically against his pulse, in and out, in and out. He idly wonders how busy Johnny is in his normal day to day life for him to be able to sleep through Kun’s squirming. (According to Sicheng who was his roommate through all four years of uni, not a day went by without Kun kicking up a storm in his sleep.) Johnny must’ve been dead tired. He adjusts their blankets to cover their bare shoulders, carding his fingers through Johnny’s soft brown hair. He wonders if this thing, whatever it is, between them will continue after tonight, or if it’s just another thing in his life that stops before something more can happen. Kun hopes it’s not nothing, hopes this can finally be his something. He usually wishes for another good day at the store, another good day for his friends, another day without any problems, but tonight he can’t help but wish for more.

The next time Kun wakes up, it’s to Johnny stroking his hair, smoothing down what he knows has to be his extreme bed hair. “Baby, I need to go. Give me your phone.”

“On the nightstand behind you,” Kun murmurs, one eye popping open to look at the time. It’s fucking five in the morning. “Don’t go yet, it’s so early,” he mumbles, rubbing his sleepy face into his warm and fluffy pillow. He doesn’t want to wake up yet, damn it!

“I gotta,” Johnny sighs, draping himself over Kun, his warm chest plastered against Kun’s back. He nibbles at the weak spot behind Kun’s ear, still soft and warm from sleep. “I’ll text you and call you. You won’t even notice I’m gone,” Johnny whispers, his lips ghosting over his ear.

Kun whines in protest and Johnny doubles down, biting at his ear. “You’re barely awake, but still so lewd for me.”

“Do something about it, you coward.” Kun groans, voice still full of sleep and raspy from last night’s activities.

“I can’t, I don’t have time.”

“Fine, go then.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Johnny says and Kun gets annoyed all over again because Johnny’s voice is so full of laughter it almost makes him want to laugh, too. 

“I’m not your baby,” Kun breathes out, grinding back into Johnny’s oh —

“Alright, fuck it,” Johnny grumbles, grabbing his hip and Kun can already feel the bruises forming next to the ones Johnny left last night.

***

“I heard you met Johnny,” Ten says as he walks through the shop door, not even having the decency to greet Kun like a normal person, the bell ringing loudly behind him. 

Kun knew this was going to happen eventually from the moment he figured out that Johnny was the friend Ten has been blabbing about for the past few days. Honesty, if Kun had been paying more attention to the million things Ten says on a daily basis, he probably wouldn’t have been so surprised at finding Johnny in his house yesterday. But who has the time?

He tries not to be annoyed at the way Ten manages to sit right on top of the documents he was reading. Fucker probably does it on purpose anyway. “Yeah.”

“How was it?”

“Fine.”

“You weren’t freaked out?” Ten asks, cocking his head.

“Who wouldn’t be freaked out.”

Ten groans. “Oh god, did you have like, a fangirl moment? He hates it when people do that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I mean, yeah, I guess his dick is big and all, but do people really have a moment over it?” What the hell?

“What?” Ten asks.

“What?” Kun mimics.

“You saw his dick?”

“Yeah, he was naked.”

“Why was he naked?” Ten chokes on his spit and Kun would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s completely lost.

Kun blinks. “You forgot to give him a towel.”

“Ooh! Jesus,” Ten laughs, slapping his knee. “I thought you two boned for a sec.”

We did! We boned, like, twice and then again before he had to leave in the morning! Life is fantastic! “Well? What were you talking about then?”

“You’re seriously telling me you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what? I’m sorry, but you have a lot of friends, I can’t keep track of everyone you talk about.”

“Do me a favour and grab your laptop. Don’t look at me like that just grab it,” Ten says, poking him in his sides. Kun dodges his annoying fingers and does what he’s told as per usual. He pulls up his browser and looks at Ten for further instructions. “Now type in Johnny Suh. Press enter.”

Oh.

Ooooh.

“Oh.” What the fuck.

“Yeah. I didn’t expect you to not know, but you know what, of course, you wouldn’t know.”

“I really didn’t know.”

“I figured.”

“He’s been in all these?” Kun asks, scrolling through Johnny’s IMDb page. Kun isn’t someone who pays a lot of attention to the entertainment industry, but even he knows (now) that Johnny has an impressive amount of achievements under his belt.

“Yeah, it’s crazy, isn’t it. He was so shy in high school and now he’s the highest-paid Asian-American actor,” Ten says, pulling up Johnny’s Wikipedia page. “He has two Oscars, Kun. Two. He’s been nominated for even more. He’s been a regular at Cannes for the past four years, dude.”

“That’s crazy.” Kun isn’t sure what a Cannes is but from the way that Ten is practically tearing up talking about it it has got to be impressive. He isn’t a total idiot, he knows what the Academy Awards are, but honestly, he’s a bit shell-shocked at the fact that, despite Johnny’s achievements, he didn’t know him at all. Is he really that clueless?

“I know right. I still see him as that lanky idiot from our school days, but at the same time he’s also so fucking rich and famous, he could probably buy his own private island if he wanted to. And don’t even get me started on his social circle. It’s literal insanity. He knows Idris Elba, dude. Idris. Fucking. Elba.”

“Wait,” Kun says, trying to process all the information. Who is Idris Elba? And, of course, the guy is fucking rich, it says here that Johnny got, like, millions for his last feature alone. “Why did you send him to my house if he’s this rich? It says right here that he owns several houses in South Korea, including a penthouse in Seoul.” A fucking penthouse in fucking Seoul.

“He ran away from his agent and bodyguards, said he just wanted to relax for a while without them. They know my address but they obviously don’t know yours,” Ten shrugs, studying his nails.

“And you don’t think a heads up would’ve been appropriate. I almost killed him with Xiaojun’s lady-bug umbrella.”

Ten snorts. “That small thing wouldn’t have put a dent in him and you know it.”

“Yeah, but the possibility was there.”

“How were you going to explain that to Xiaojun, you’d make him cry or some shit and I would never forgive you.”

“I didn’t even think about that. I don’t think I could forgive myself either.”

Ten pats his arm in a fake consolation. “Johnny said you were awesome, though.”

“He did?”

Ten nods and Kun almost wants to smile, but then he sees Ten’s mouth twist into that sick grin of his and he knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next will annoy him to death. 

“You still don’t talk about Bangkok, huh?”

“Get the fuck out of my store.” Kun pushes Ten off the counter, kicking him out of the shop. He does his best to ignore Ten’s taunting from the window as he watches him make his way to his café, before taking his usual place behind the counter.

His phone buzzes.

Johnny (11:39)

Can I come see you tonight?

Kun (11:39)

I don’t know, depends.

Johnny (11:40)

On what?

Kun (11:40)

On if you were ever planning on telling me you’re famous

Johnny (11:40)

I’m sorry for not telling you. You didn’t recognize me and I kind of really liked it. Are you upset? 

Kun (11:41)

No, it’s fine

Johnny (11:41)

You sound upset

And not fine

Kun (11:41)

I just want to know

Are you messing with me?

Johnny (11:41)

I swear I’m not. Can I please see you tonight and explain?

Kun (11:41)

I’ll wait for you at the Antonov

Johnny (11:42)

Alright. 

Chapter Text

In a practice of extreme self-restraint, Kun manages to not google the ever-loving shit out of Oscar-winning movie actor millionaire philanthropist star supreme Johnny Suh after Ten left. For exactly two minutes. He tried, he really did.

It’s a school day, so Kun mans the store on his own until Chenle comes in for his shift. In between sorting out orders and dealing with customers, he manages to scroll through pages and pages of interviews, red carpet pictures, watch countless of buzz feed videos (Johnny and puppies, just kill him dead) and consume all things Johnny.

He learns a thing or two about Johnny when he’s not helping customers as fast as he can so they can finally leave him the fuck alone. (He’s almost annoyed at how much business he has this morning. Kun knows he shouldn’t complain, but what the fuck, can he get some privacy here?):

• Johnny’s been in the industry ever since his college days, he dropped out to pursue a career in acting.
• He’s a very private person, not much is known about his personal life.
• He’s a versatile actor and has starred in over 40 films across all genres. But he has been more focused on smaller, independent projects lately.
• He looks so incredibly hot in formal wear, what the fuck.
• As far as Kun can tell, Johnny isn’t out.

So, uh, yeah, that last point. Johnny’s so popular Kun has no doubt that the media would eat this shit up if they were to find out he’s been fucking some Chinese dude in a Seoul suburb. Anyone could’ve seen him last night or even this morning, especially because this isn’t exactly a quiet area. What the hell is Johnny even doing fooling around with him all out in the open? Okay, somewhat in the open. The shutter-blinds he had installed in the store last month are really quite amazing.

Anyway, the point is, why? Kun isn’t silly, he knows that Johnny’s probably just looking for a way to relax while he’s here. But Johnny 1) never told him to stay silent about their thing 2) begged Kun to walk him to the bus stop earlier this morning to presumably catch the first bus to his own (million-dollar) apartment where anyone and their mom could have seen them and 3) is coming over again tonight.

He understands why Johnny didn’t tell him about his star status, he does empathise with Johnny on that. But Kun honestly doesn’t understand why he wants to keep seeing him, why he picked him out of all people he can canoodle with, and why he’s being so goddamn sloppy about it. Where the hell does that put him?

Ugh. Whatever. He’ll figure it out later, but now he absolutely needs to watch this video of Johnny doing aerial yoga. You know, for science.

He’s halfway through the video, marvelling at Johnny’s flexibility despite him being so tall and huge and big and ugh when disaster strikes.

The shop door opens, the bell ringing loudly like a warning for what’s coming next, and Kim fucking Doyoung walks in, grinning as he lets the door fall shut behind him. Now, Kun has to be honest, he loves Doyoung, he really does. But by god, he could throttle him any time of the day.

“Doyoung, how can I help you today,” he says, reluctantly closing all of his incriminating tabs, hiding his Netflix watchlist now filled with everything from the Johnny Suh category. The entire existence of a Johnny Suh category is downright frightening and surreal. He’s got a lot of catching up to do.

“I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d drop by and check up on my favourite person,” Doyoung says, approaching the counter, light on his feet despite wearing what looks like the most puffiest puffer-coat Kun’s ever seen in his entire life.

“Sure,” Kun says. He can tell Doyoung’s lying by the way he scrunches his nose and his eyes get a little funny, and, you know, because of the fact that he works crazy shifts as the manager of a nightclub downtown and thus has no business being awake and at the Antonov at three in the afternoon when he only gets home at eight in the morning. “What are you really here for?”

“Always so hostile!” Doyoung gasps, his hand clutching his heart in fake indignation. “I was just wondering if you needed anything for the party, ungrateful dick.”

“Oh fuck,” Kun groans. “I forgot about the party.” Shit. How is he going to act normal in front of all his friends when Johnny is going to be right there. Is he going to have to act like he hasn’t had his back blown out by him? Would Johnny even want to come now? “I haven’t thought about it, like, at all. You got any ideas?”

“You’re asking for my opinion? You never ask for my opinion.”

Shit. He fucked up. “What, I can’t?” Kun says, trying to brush it off.

Doyoung crosses his arms, looking Kun over once, then twice, a grin slowly forming on his face. “You got laid or something?”

“No, I did not. So, about the party, I don’t know what I should get.”

“Oh? You’re dodging the question.” Doyoung laughs, evilly rubbing his evil hands together like the evil person he is. “Is it someone I know?”

“You’re being annoying,” Kun huffs.

“I’m always annoying. Now spill or so help me god.”

“There’s nothing to spill.”

“I’m not going to force you into saying anything you don’t want to say.” Doyoung shrugs. “But I’m glad someone finally fucked some of that stress out of you. You were starting to get on my nerves.”

Okay, now that’s just rude. “What, when?” Kun squawks.  

“You called me a bitch-baby for eating your chips last week, like, goddamn relax.”

Kun snorts. Right, he did. “Don’t touch my nachos then.”

“Shut up,” Doyoung bites back, doing an awful job at hiding his smile. “Okay, so don’t tell me about it, but if you don’t want anyone else to find out then you better stop grinning like that. You were smiling from ear to ear when I walked in– don’t look so scandalized, I saw you smiling all googly-eyed at your laptop. Ten and Sicheng will have your head for not telling.”

“Alright, whatever, thanks I guess.” Kun sighs. He can’t ever hide anything from him. Out of all his friends, Doyoung is the one who has got him all figured out.

“Are you seeing him again?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure.” Doyoung doesn’t need to know just how confused Kun is about this thing.

“Alright. Cool.” Doyoung nods slowly, obviously holding back a billion of other questions. “If he hurts you in any way I swear I’ll break his kneecaps and destroy his property,” Doyoung says finally, smiling wickedly as he holds out his fist.

“Okay, Doie, I’ll hold you onto that.” Kun laughs, smacking Doyoung’s fist away.

So, Kun kind of needs to confess something. He lied earlier.

Yeah, he did run away from his entire life in China – but not because he couldn’t open a store there or because he didn’t feel fulfilled or some shit. He ran away for all the wrong reasons. It’s a bit cliché honestly, you might’ve heard a story like this before. His life, kind of, sort of, crumbled apart. Things like this, they can happen in a minute or even a second. All it takes is a single sentence, really.

“You make me sick, we- us, this entire thing, makes me sick.”

“That’s what he said?” Ten hisses.

“Verbatim.”

“After four fucking years of dating and two fucking years of living together? It’s fucking two thousand and fourteen,” Ten yells into the phone, his tinny voice slightly distorted because Kun’s Wi-Fi is fucking shitty in his bathroom.

“Yeah,” he answers, resting his head against the tiled floor. His head fucking hurts and his chest fucking aches, face a mess of snot and tears because he hasn’t stopped crying ever since that conversation.  

“I mean how did he imagine your future together? He’s gonna introduce you as his roommate to his family and friends until the day you die? You can’t live your entire fucking life in the closet, Kun. It’ll kill you. You don’t deserve to be with someone who’s perfectly comfortable with hiding you away for the rest of his fucking life. You deserve way more than this dipshit who turns his back on your relationship because some of his fucking co-workers saw you kissing on your fucking doorstep,” Ten drones on and on and he is fucking livid but Kun is just so sad and empty. He doesn’t really know how to process any of this really and all he can do is sigh and agree.

“Yeah,” he croaks out. Maybe if he’d been more careful, maybe if he’d just waited until they were inside, maybe none of this would’ve–

“Kun, listen to me, really listen okay?” Ten says, voice clear and so, so angry. “You deserve better. Much better.”

“I know,” he sighs, wiping his face with his damp sweater sleeve.

“Do you really?”

“I don’t know.” For the past few months, Kun seriously thought that he was set for life. Yeah, his boyfriend hadn’t come out of the closet yet, but there was no rush. They had a routine, they went on date nights, they had a proper sex life and they’d been talking about adopting a puppy and sure they didn’t hold hands in public or stand too close to each other. But everything was okay – it was okay.

It was okay. Was that all it was? Okay? For the last four years of his life? “Ten, I can’t. I don’t think I can, like this, here without–”

“Fuck that place, come to Seoul for a while. I could use your help with renovating the café. Clear your head, hang out with your real friends, you know? People who really truly deeply love you even though we all hate your fucking magic tricks. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Like that it was settled. He deleted and blocked his ex from his contacts, boxed up all his shit that he wasn’t bringing over to Seoul and put it in storage. It only took him two days since that conversation to arrive at Ten and Sicheng’s house, the door swinging open before he even had the chance to ring the doorbell, almost getting crushed to death by the force of Ten’s hug while Doyoung and Sicheng quickly ushering him inside.

It didn’t have to be permanent. Lord knows nothing ever was in this fucking century, but it was a change he desperately needed. Kun didn’t really know if he could go cold turkey on his entire home country whilst ghosting the guy he tried to build an entire life with but hey, he was all about finding out. Ghosting had always been his go-to modus operandi when dealing with breakups, except this felt more like he was slicing open his chest, reaching into the dark, red and mushy crevices of his body and prying out whatever love and loyalty he had left for someone who was ashamed of him, ashamed of them together.

He didn’t have to leave China forever, but it had to be real, it had to be tangible. He had to be far away from the life he thought he had built up until now because it turned out that there was nothing really to his life except for what Kun thought they had. He had nothing else he could show for the past four years of his life, of their life. Nothing he could point towards, nothing he could hold dearly within the palms of his hands and say this is ours, this is what we have. Their house together was just that, a house and not their home. He figures that that’s why it was so easy for him to leave.

Everyone always has a place to go to. A place to return to. A place they call home. Somewhere to lay your heart to rest after an exhausting day, where you can recharge and arm yourself for another day to come. Maybe that home isn’t a place, but rather a person, a song, or maybe you haven’t found it yet, but Kun has.

***

“Kun-ge, should I put these boxes with the- oh! Hey, it’s Johnny-hyung!” Chenle shouts at him, putting down the box full of new additions.

“Hey, Chenle,” Johnny says as he steps insides the store, careful not to bump into the stacks of books put out to sort through before they could close up for the day. “Do you work here?” he asks, eyes wide, cocking his head ever so slightly at the kid.

Kun has to bite back a groan, opting to busy himself with the inventory lists instead of thinking too hard about the way his heart skipped a beat at seeing Johnny interact with Chenle.

“Yes! I’m Kun-ge’s best employee.”

“You’re my only employee.” Kun snorts from behind the counter.

“And aren’t I the best?” Chenle beams, running past Johnny to haul in the last boxes at the storefront.

Kun can’t even deny the statement.

“Hi,” Johnny says, still standing near the door, looking a little bit out of sorts. He fidgets with the sleeves of his overcoat, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Hello, Johnny,” Kun answers curtly. “Could you bring me that box?”

Johnny nods a little stiffly, taking the box Chenle discarded and brings it over to where Kun’s sorting through the new additions at the counter. “Wow, I haven’t read one of these ever since I was in college. I was so into Star Trek.”

“Kun-ge hasn’t seen Star Trek,” Chenle says, popping his head through the door before running back in. He plops another box on the counter with a big smile and runs back out to get the final box. Little traitor.

Johnny gasps. “You haven’t seen Star Trek? I knew something was wrong with you.”

“I swear I’m going to watch it one day,” Kun pouts, handling the books with a little more force than necessary. Everyone’s always up his ass about Star Trek. First Xiaojun and Renjun, then Chenle and now Johnny too?

“That day should’ve been yesterday.”

“I promise I’ll fucking get to it,” Kun replies with a little more bite than he intended.

Johnny puts his hands up in mock-defeat. “Alright, that’s cool, don’t sweat it.” Kun swears he’s going to punch him in his stupid face one day.

“This is the last one, Kun-ge!” Chenle says, hauling the final box inside. He’s quick to slip out of his employee apron, probably eager to get home and have dinner with his parents.

He rushes over to help Chenle get into his coat, handing Chenle his heavy school bag. “Be careful on your way back.”

“Mhm!” Chenle beams at him, nodding profusely as he puts on his expensive cap and matching bag. (“Is that kid sponsored by Balenciaga or what the fuck,” Ten had said to him after meeting Chenle for the first time. Kun had no idea what that was supposed to mean, staring blankly at the other. “Your new part-timer is wearing an outfit worth 6 thou, you dingus.” Kun gulped when Ten pulled up the clothes Chenle was wearing with ease, despite their brief meeting. All he could do was shake his head at Ten’s screen as they scrolled through the brand’s website. Maybe it was okay that he didn’t understand fashion, Kun thought, wincing at the price tags.)

“And good luck on your test, you’ll be fine!”

“Thanks! See you tomorrow, Kun-ge, bye hyung!” he shouts, bell ringing loudly when he leaves.

Kun waits for the ringing to subside before shutting the blinds and locking the door with a click.

“So…” Kun trails off, turning around to lean uneasily against the door.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” Johnny mumbles as he sags against the counter, burrowing his head in his arms.

Kun can’t help but smile a teeny tiny bit at how Johnny’s so cute when he’s nervous. He seriously thought that he was the only one dreading this conversation. He deciding to show a little bit of mercy and takes his place again behind the counter across from where Johnny’s bowed over, hiding his face in his arms. He runs his fingers through Johnny’s soft brown hair and takes Johnny’s hand, nervously drawing circles on the countertop, in his own. “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought maybe you were playing with me, but then I realized you genuinely didn’t know me,” Johnny says, voice muffled, squeezing Kun’s hand. “You treat me like a normal person. Last night, you liked me just for being me.”

“Who says I like you?”

Johnny snorts, emerging from his little hide-out with twinkling eyes. He leans forward, knocking down a stack of books but pays it no heed as he whispers against Kun’s ear. “You seemed to like me a lot this morning.”

“Shut up,” Kun stammers, pushing him back. “You’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything.”

Kun pretends to think it over, rubbing his chin as he eyes Johnny once over. He points at his lips, jutting them out just so .

Johnny grins, leaning over the counter, this time careful not to knock over the stacks of books, to land a soft peck on Kun’s lips. “Better?” he asks, lips still ghosting over Kun’s, a hint of cherry-scented Chapstick fogging up his mind.

Kun shakes his head and before he can say no, Johnny kisses him again, deeper and longer this time. Johnny’s hand snakes into his hair, tilting his head back ever so slightly, eyelashes fluttering against Kun’s cheeks, and Kun is left absolutely breathless.

“Okay?” Johnny asks, pupils blown wide, panting against the corner of Kun's mouth.

Kun clears his throat, resisting the urge to rub his lips. “It’ll have to do.”

“You know what, you’re a bit annoying,” Johnny says, shaking his head at Kun’s stubbornness.

“The door is right over there, no one is forcing you to stay.”

“I physically can’t bear being away from you.”

“That’s funny because I remember asking you to stay this morning and you were very comfortable with leaving,” Kun retorts.

Johnny pouts. “I had to go to work.”

“Right. So, what the hell is it really that you’re doing here? Are you doing something at Lele’s place? I literally don’t know anything about you, Johnny Suh,” Kun rushes out in one breath, completely disregarding the Johnny binge he went on earlier today. He’ll have to delete his browser history.

“We won’t start filming for at least two months, but yeah, we’re busy figuring out logistics around the neighbourhood,” Johnny mumbles, scratching at his eyebrow. Kun can tell he doesn’t actually want to talk about it. “And we have time, don’t we? We can get to know each other,” Johnny asks.

“I’d like to, yeah, but…”  

“But?” Johnny sags against the counter, he sounds tired and sad and defeated and honestly Kun doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore.

He walks out from behind the counter, ushering Johnny to the little nook under the stairs. Johnny looks puzzled, but he doesn’t protest, allowing Kun to push him onto the couch. “Sit, take off your shoes.”

Johnny does as he’s told, sitting crossed legged on the couch, waiting for instructions.

Kun opens the cabinet above the nook, fishing out a soft blanket and drops it into Johnny’s lap. He kicks off his own shoes and plops next to Johnny onto the couch, manhandling him into his arms, Johnny’s back to his chest.

“Comfy?” he asks, hooking his chin over Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny’s hair tickles at his cheek, the soft strands still smelling a bit like Kun’s shampoo.

Johnny leans back into Kun’s embrace, shifting the blankets to make sure that Kun’s properly covered too. “Comfy.” He settles even deeper into Kun’s chest, sighing as he does so. “Everything about you is so comfortable, but you’re still so full of surprises,” he mumbles, closing his eyes.

“You’re literally the one who turned out to be world-famous, how’s that for a surprise?”

“You can do magic tricks.”

“Who told you that?” Kun asks, poking Johnny’s sides.

“Ten did!” Johnny yelps.

“I don’t even know why I asked,” Kun groans, burrowing his face in the soft skin of Johnny’s nape.  

“You’re the cutest person I’ve ever met. I’m spooning with the cutest person on this entire planet.”

“You talk too much, you know that? Now go sleep. You need to rest.” It’s barely past ten, but Kun can tell that Johnny’s two seconds away from falling asleep.

“Thank you, I’m sorry again.”

“That’s alright, I understand, Johnny,” Kun whispers, careful not to move too much as he splays his fingers on Johnny’s belly. “Come to me whenever you want.”

“Hm?” Johnny breathes out.

“I’ll be here for you.”

***

Kun is surprised at how quickly he gets used to it.

They easily fall into a rhythm, there’s the texting, the occasional phone call when Johnny has more privacy and Kun’s alone in the store. They whisper into their phones, even when no one is near, careful to not be found out, careful not to let anyone else hear their soft words, sweet encouragements, promises of more. It is exhilarating and terrifying and it makes Kun’s head spin, but he can’t help but be who he is so, he questions everything, anything at all.

He gets used to him and Johnny together, but he isn’t used to lying to his friends. Not anymore, at least.

He feels bad about it, especially to Ten, but he doesn’t know what to tell him, doesn’t know what he can tell him without messing things up between him and Johnny. If Kun’s being honest, he doesn’t even know what to tell himself. So, he doesn’t, keeps it all locked away instead.

But when it’s just them, in the flesh, across from each other, tangled between the sheets, sitting side by side – when he’s with Johnny he can only focus on his stupid laugh, his stupid hands, his stupid warmth and the softness in his eyes.

(He catches himself thinking of time in two distinct categories: time spent with Johnny and time spent without Johnny. Kun’s seriously so fucked).

They don’t even do anything remotely interesting, they don’t go out on dates, they don’t even leave the bounded wholes of the Antonov and Kun’s room on the third floor or sneak back down to the bathroom on the first floor. Between the two of them, they’ve got all they need. They order take-out, they read, they nap, they talk, they laugh until they cry, they tease each other until they end up fighting and then they make out and do it all over again for as long as Johnny’s schedule allows it.

“Smoking is bad for you, you know,” Kun calls from his bed, too tired to untangle himself from the sheets.

“I know,” Johnny says, rummaging through the pockets of his coat laying on the floor, looking for his lighter, cigarette already dangling from his lips.

“I don’t like you smoking in here.”

“No worries, I’ll leave then.”

“Wait, don’t actually go,” Kun whines.

“I’m only stepping out to smoke,” Johnny shrugs.

He can’t tell if Johnny’s bluffing, teasing him or maybe he’s even mad at him? Or maybe he’s just tired and needs to smoke. “What if someone sees you?”

“You worry too much,” Johnny grins, exclaiming a soft ‘yes!’ when he finally finds his lighter.

“Stay,” Kun says, wincing as he sits up against the headboard. “With me.”

“You sure?” Johnny asks, cutely tilting his head and Kun honestly wants to give him the entire world.

“Yeah, don’t leave.”

It’s quite the sight, Kun decides, Johnny swiping his way through his emails, texting his assistants. He sits at the windowsill, bare-chested, wearing a clean pair of Kun’s boxer shorts that he pulled out of his closet all by himself. (After their second tango in between the sheets, Johnny took it upon himself to commandeer every piece of clothing Kun owns.) His necklace shines in the moonlight, the red tip of his cigarette glowing as it burns at a steady rhythm. Turning his head, Johnny exhales, blowing out the smoke, long neck full of tension as he hangs out of Kun’s window. (Luckily, this part of the house is enclosed by other buildings, hidden for the most part from the main street.)  

He imagines Johnny huddled in his thick, long coat, on set, in Chicago, in Los Angeles, out in Chenle’s backyard, inhaling his cigarette like a lifeline, clinging onto that warmth and keeping it inside him for as long as possible. He imagines Johnny only sort of, but not at all paying attention to the cinematographer, the director, his assistants, because he is too busy texting him his usual sweet words, maybe a series of photos he took or even all kinds of filth.

Kun still can’t believe this is happening to him, can’t believe Johnny is happening to him.

“Enjoying the view?” Johnny asks, not even turning to look at Kun, still typing away. Smug bastard.

“Not really.” Yes, always.

“That’s not so nice of you.”

“I’m not a nice person,” Kun deadpans.

“Liar. You’re the nicest person I know.”

“You don’t know a lot of nice people, then,” Kun says before his mind catches on and he can stop himself.

“I don’t,” Johnny says without missing a beat. The nonchalance almost has Kun fooled, but he knows his voice by now, knows the quiet admission for what it is. The words hang in the air, for Kun at least, Johnny’s already moved on to answer the next e-mail waiting for him in his inbox.

Kun looks for his boxers somewhere in the sheets, sliding them over his slightly bruised legs. He walks over to Johnny, still frantically tapping away on his phone, his blanket draped around him like a cape.

He takes Johnny’s phone (Johnny lets him) and puts it aside, stubs out his cigarette (he lets him, again) on the window. He taps Johnny’s back, and he takes the cue, sliding forward on the cushioned windowsill , making space for Kun to nestle himself between Johnny and the wall. He winces at the cold of Johnny’s back against his bare chest, wrapping the blanket around the two of them as tightly as possible.

“Do you want your phone back?” Kun whispers into Johnny’s nape, lips ghosting over the bony vertebra, his light brown hair still smelling like Kun’s own shampoo, feeling soft against his cheeks.

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head before snuggling into Kun’s chest, resting his head on his shoulder. The blanket stirs, Johnny searching for his hands underneath, entangling their fingers when he finds them so that they are even more closely hooked together. Like this, Kun has all the stars within his hands.

“When did you start smoking?” He breathes the words against the side of Johnny’s neck, nosing at the warm spot under his chin where he can already feel some stubbles growing back.  

Johnny considers the question. “Back in college, I think. I smoked sometimes, mostly at parties or after exams.” Kun can feel Johnny’s words rumble in his throat before he speaks them out loud. “Got hooked after my first movie, so about eight years ago. Shit’s pretty stressful, you know.”

“I can only imagine,” Kun mumbles against Johnny’s skin. “Are you stressed right now?”

“A little, you make it better though.” He plays with Kun’s fingers under the blankets. “D’you ever smoke?”

“Once or twice, I didn’t care for it.”

“Want me to stop?”

“I want you to not be stressed out. But don’t smoke in the store. And bring an ashtray next time. Littering is bad even if it’s just ash,” Kun chastises.

“Okay, I will,” Johnny laughs. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, for not judging I guess. Ten still rides my ass about it, some of my fans too,” Johnny sighs.

“I think you could be doing a lot worse.”

“I did do worse in the past,” Johnny whispers, biting at his lip. “It was harder for me back then, though. I was still new to the industry.”

Kun nudges Johnny’s cheek, squeezing his fingers. “You stopped?”

Johnny squeezes back. “Yeah, I had the worst manager when I started out. Gave me stuff to keep me alert. My current manager got me off the worst of it, but I still smoke and drink, though. Hard to quit.”

Kun hums, pecking Johnny on the cheek. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me.”

Johnny turns his head and Kun’s nose bumps into his own. They laugh for a moment, and then they kiss. It is slow, it is tobacco, it is coffee, it is electric hot and it makes Kun’s brain turn into mush as it goes on and on.

He imagines Johnny’s honey gold eyes full of happiness, no trace of stress, not a single tired bone in his body, only that sweet warmth he has come to associate with him. He wants to see it happen, wants to make it happen. “Come to bed with me, Johnny.”

Johnny leads the way, reluctantly removing himself from their carefully built blanket wrap and tugs Kun onto the bed, right into his arms. They are both warm now, warm through the bed, warm through the blanket, of each other, maybe even the cigarette. Kun doesn’t know but he wants to bask in it forever, he thinks. Johnny, him, the bed, and their spoken truths wrapped around them and unspoken secrets nestled a little safer now between them.

Right before he drifts off to sleep, he steals a glance at Johnny resting beside him and Kun swears there’s something in the look he gives him, something he has been waiting to see his entire life. But his eyes fall shut and he sleeps.

Kun knows he’s dreaming. Knows it by the fuzzy forms struggling against all his senses to take shape, knows it by how he has to keep chasing after each image, minutes, hours even after they’ve already escaped him.

But he knows what swirls around him is the smell of coffee, then ink on paper, the taste of the morning dew and the scent of air pollution. The fragile texture of grey and soft honey brown, the colours of sandalwood and tobacco – of Johnny. They swim around him, with him, leave marks on him. Coddling, but not oppressive. Like a blanket. It is comfortable and secure, but it is fleeting. It leaves, but he does not want it to leave yet. It is not yet coffee ink paper blue and grey, it is not yet us, it is not yet ours.

Blearily, Kun opens his eyes. He stares at his ceiling, then his alarm clock (4:51AM), then at the moon peeking through his window. He curls into himself, sighing into his blanket. He doesn’t need to look beside him to see that Johnny’s already long gone. His bed is cold.

He doesn’t want to demand more of Johnny, tired enough as he is. This will be enough. It must be enough he tells himself. He almost believes it, too.

Chapter Text

In about ten days, Kun’s carefully constructed daily routine has been turned upside down Topsy-turvy sideways and inside out.

Okay, so maybe he’s exaggerating a little bit. But you know what, Kun has worked very hard to create a routine and stick to it. Routines are very important when you’re self-employed. Kun’s been so diligent with his daily regimen ever since he came to Seoul, forcing some normalcy and structure into his fucked life, but then of course Johnny Suh happened and well, things kind of changed.

Despite the fact that he gets an average of three hours of sleep each night ever since Johnny’s been sneaking in and out of the house, Kun still starts his days at 6:45AM. The buzzing of his standard alarm clock urges him out of bed and if that doesn’t work, the three idiots living with him will manage to wake him up one way or another. He’ll stumble down the stairs from his room on the third, waving off the chorus of ‘Kun-ge g’morning’ as he makes his way down to the kitchen, body sore and bruised in the most delicious ways.

He’ll cook a simple breakfast and will start on lunch too before he remembers that he isn’t allowed to make lunches anymore. Ten has been urging him to stop making lunch boxes for his house mates because it’ll supposedly turn them into insufferable bums. Kun just wants the kids to stay healthy, especially Yizhuo since she’s still so young and needs proper sustenance for her big brain, but Ten’s word is law in this part of the country. So he’ll reluctantly leave the kitchen, feeling guilty and bad and worried about their daily nutritional requirements, but once he finally hops in the shower he’s already forgotten all about it if he’s being honest.

He’ll hear Yizhuo, Xiaojun and Hendery haphazardly make their lunches over the sound of his shower, chattering about nothing or everything but definitely always about something, before they’ll quiet down when they stuff their faces with food. Kun will find them like this once he’s dressed for the day, silently doing the dishes, cleaning up the table and tidying up after their meal-prepping. It hasn’t even been a full week of Kun not making their lunches anymore, but the three of them have settled into a proper rhythm. It’s shit like this that makes Kun realize that Ten holds too much power and knowledge in his tiny body.   

More often than not, though, he still has to remind them that they’ll be late if they don’t hurry along. Kun will do his very best to eat his breakfast, steadfastly ignoring their panicked shouting and frantic searching for keys and shoes and bags and anything else they might need for the day. (Yizhuo specifically is a complete mess in this regard. She has all the intellect in the world, but not an ounce of common sense). So he’ll one-shot his morning coffee and help everyone get their shit together even though he always tells them to be more prepared and organized but Hendery and Yizhuo just laugh and tell him they’ll ‘be more ready tomorrow for sure!’ Xiaojun has at least the decency to look sheepish about it, that’s why he is Kun’s favourite.

And once they’re all finally out of the door, Kun will totally not run up the stairs to grab his phone from where it has been charging on his nightstand to check if he has any new messages as he plops down on his bed with an ‘oof’.

He opens up Kakaotalk, resolutely ignoring the 139 unread messages in the ‘Bangcocks out’ group chat (he’ll need at least two cups of coffee in his system before processing their shit) and makes a mental note to ask who’ll be coming over for the party he’s absolutely not prepared for even though it’s in three dreadful days. But that’ll have to wait right now, because Kun is a weak man and he can’t stop the smile spreading on his face or the way his heart races just a little at the two messages waiting for him.

Johnny (7:13)

Babe

Good morning

Kun physically needs to stop himself from screaming into his mattress like a fucking teenager. 

Kun (7:44)

Morning (.❛ ᴗ ❛ .) What time did you leave last night?

Johnny (7:45)

Around 4 I think? Did I wake you up :( ?

Kun (7:45)

No!! I was just wondering. Do you have a busy day?

Johnny (7:46)

Kinda. I don’t think I’ll be able to come over today :(:(:(

Kun (7:46)

Ah, that’s alright. Make sure to eat well today, okay?

Can I call you tonight?

If you have time, of course.

Johnny (7:57)

Sorry!!! I had to look at something ugh

YES please call me tonight ;) I have time at 8

Kun (7:57)

Okay I will (.❛ ᴗ ❛ .)

Good luck today, Johnny.

Johnny (7:58)

You too babe :)

Kun mumbles a few choice words to whoever is keeping Johnny busy and burrows his head in his sheets. He was looking forward to seeing Johnny again tonight, despite the fact that he has seen almost every night since the day they’ve met (eight days out of ten in total to be exact). Despite Johnny's busy schedule, he’s always figuring out ways to warm Kun’s bed at the end of each day. He figures it’s partly Johnny’s fault that he’s so greedy for his attention. Maybe he would be better at coping with not seeing him for a day if Johnny wasn’t so damn cute.

He sighs and throws his phone across the bed, feeling childish and grumpy as he watches it bounce off his mattress and then clatter against the headboard. He keeps on watching dumbly, even when it slips in the crevice between his mattress and headboard. He lets out a groan, only moving at the sound of his phone hit the floor. He sluggishly rolls over his perfectly arranged (and freshly changed) bed sheets, cramming his arm in the small gap as he shoots a quick prayer to whoever is listening in the hopes that his screen didn’t crack, because he really can’t afford to get a new one right now. He feels around for the device but startles when his hand touches soft fabric instead of cool aluminium. Reluctantly, he fishes out the offending article wondering idly if he’s getting sloppy with cleaning his room— oh. It’s Johnny’s shirt.

The fabric is a bit crumpled and one of the buttons is loose from when Kun had been too impatient trying to get it off Johnny as soon as possible without having to break their kiss last night. He smooths down the soft cotton, smiling at the memory, feeling the tip of his ears turn a hot dusty red. It smells faintly like Johnny’s cologne (sandalwood and bergamot perhaps?) and Kun hates how he wants to drown in the scent.

How did Johnny leave without his shirt? Was he in a rush to get back to a schedule? Did he steal something from his closet again? Would he mind if Kun fixed the buttons? The questions swim in Kun’s head while he carefully folds the dress shirt, arranging it on his pillow and giving the starchy fabric a few pats. He fishes out his phone from under his bed, pleased that it is still intact and that there are no other messy surprises hiding underneath, and takes a quick picture of the shirt to send to Johnny.

With a little extra energy in his steps, Kun thunders down the stairs and makes his way down to the Antonov.

***

Kun knows that he gives off the impression that he's got everything Handled with a capital H. He ticks off all the requirements in order to be categorized as a Responsible and Capable Adult. House, check. Job, check. Social circle, check. Bills and taxes, always paid on time. But truth be told, the only reason why he hasn't run back to his parental home in Fujian to sob into his mom and dad's arms and never let go is because, well, it would break their hearts and he feels that he's already hurt them enough throughout the course of his life.

You see, Kun’s parents have always been big dreamers, always urging him to follow his heart and dare to spread out his wings and fly high in the sky, whatever the fuck that may mean. But he's always been kind of uncreative and unimaginative. Dreaming has never been something Kun did with pleasure because, unfortunately, he was also born an anxious mess. Apart from a boyish aspiration to become a pilot and travel to every nook and cranny in the world—which died down real quick once he got a bit older and realized that planes could crash— Kun can't say he ever had any real desires or fantasies.

So, when he enrolled into business school instead of taking a shot at flight academy, his parents were not disappointed per se, but Kun could definitely tell they were wondering where they'd gone wrong in their parenting. He’s positive that his parents, god bless them, would never actually be disappointed in him, ever. But he has never seen his parents happier than when he'd called him up and he'd quit his accountancy job, broke up with his boyfriend who they never actually liked and moved to Seoul to live with Ten and Sicheng (who they love) in the span of two days. 

The last time they’d been that proud of him had been when he went home for the winter break back in his college days, hair dyed blond, lip piercing he’s since gotten rid of shining and throbbing, with his boyfriend Doyoung-the-Korean-exchange-student, in tow. (Don't even ask about him and Dongyoung, just- just don’t do it.)

If Kun concentrates hard enough, he can still hear his parents’ delighted gasps at his hair, his piercing, his new biceps — Doyoung and him, they met at the campus gym. Don’t ask. — and his boyfriend, in that order. He tries not to dwell on the fact that his parents were more surprised at his hair than his coming out. Go figure.

Yeah, Kun really doesn’t want to go back home to see them, because he knows he'll cry. And if he cries, he’ll have to tell them what’s really been going on these past few years. Then he’ll have to explain how he’s actually a complete fucking mess who has been lying to their faces, or well, into the phone actually because he’s been living away from home ever since college. He doesn’t have the stomach to tell them. What would that even be like?

Mom, dad, I’m sorry to say that you’ve raised a coward. An anxious coward at that who, despite hours of therapy for his anxiety and a truly wonderful childhood, ended up letting a complete and utter dick of a person ruin his self-esteem and identity in the most mundane and unoriginal of ways: by breaking his heart. I didn’t go to Seoul looking for a new adventure. That was just a bullshit story I stuck with, because that was easier to explain than having to describe how I get sick to my stomach and break out in hives at the mere thought of ever seeing my ex again, afraid he would say those words again.

You make me sick.

If he’s honest, Kun can’t quite remember what he was like before that time with his ex. He figures that, thinking back on his childhood, his mom and dad had done their best to make him feel secure and confident in his shoes, had done everything they could to help him figure out how to live with his anxiety. If he managed it well back then, he has to admit that all of it was promptly forgotten somewhere in that time he spent with his ex who, somehow, had him wrapped around his finger under the pretence of being too scared to come out to anyone, too afraid of the social repercussions, too content with leading a double life.

It had taken a toll on him, lying to everyone around them, having to memorize exactly what they said to who and carefully thinking over his words before he could talk to his parents and friends, knowing that they would never approve if they knew about the constant secrecy, how they lived their life in fear, constantly looking over their shoulders. But in Kun’s mind, he figured that he understand what it was like to be afraid, to always be anxious about something. He knew it all too well himself, after all. Maybe that’s why he let their fucked up relationship go on for that long.

It wasn’t until he had unpacked it all with Ten, Sicheng and Doyoung, everything that happened in those years, everything he had never told them to protect his ex and probably his own damn self, that he realized the extent of how fucked up their entire relationship had been. Ten had been so angry he’d smoked an entire pack of cigs (Doyoung’s) even though he’d stopped smoking about five years back, before he could even speak again. Sicheng had apologized over and over again for introducing them in the first place, and Doyoung, well. Kun remembers being too afraid to even look at Doyoung, his silence had been enough of a reaction. Kun was little more than a sack of bones when he arrived in Seoul, but they had put him back together and sewed him back up with a renewed sense of self-worth and a belly full of love for the world.

It took about a year and a half before Kun knew what to do with himself. He’d spent the bulk of those days helping Ten renovate the café and when it re-opened, Doyoung had promptly bullied him into joining his (already fully staffed) security team at the Cherry Bomb. Kun knew that Doyoung had abused his power as the manager of the nightclub to create a job for him just so he’d have something to keep him busy in between his Korean language classes and therapy sessions. But it wasn't until those nights on the job he spent chatting with his co-worker Joy about the books they were currently reading as they watched the monitors for shady figures or potential fights breaking out on the dance floor, that he got the idea to open his own book store. 

"I like you like better like this than when we were dating, I think," Doyoung had said, not even slurring over the syllables despite having downed twice the amount of wine than the rest of them, fingering through the mess of Kun's hair in his lap. They’d been drinking, just a little, in Kun's newly bought store, dust and unassembled furniture littering the place. Ten and Sicheng had passed out ages ago on the only functioning piece of furniture on the premise— a dingy couch-shaped thing they had found on the street and hauled in for break-times in between prepping for the opening.

Kun had snuggled into Doyoung's thigh, ignoring the way his arms were throbbing from screwing bolts and painting walls, the coldness of the dark wooden floorboards feeling nice against his wine-flushed skin. "Like what?"

Doyoung had hummed and Kun had remembered how much he liked the sound of his voice. "You don't try anymore to be someone you can't be.”

Kun had mulled over the answer, trying his best to figure out what Doyoung meant after all that wine and not enough food to pad it. But Kun could tell through the fog in his head that what Doyoung was saying was important. “What?”

Doyoung’s fingertips had continued to brush through his hair and Kun had to focus on not falling asleep. “I mean that you stopped trying so hard to change yourself.”

Kun had wanted to protest, but he also knew that Doyoung never said anything he wasn’t sure of. Never told him shit he didn’t actually mean. "S'that why we broke up, b'cause I tried too hard?"

"You’re the one who broke up with me," Doyoung had laughed, tugging at Kun's hair and it kind of hurt, but his limbs were heavy and he felt sorry so he had let him do it. 

"That was dumb," he’d breathed out and then whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I know why you did it."

“You do?” Kun had pushed himself up, wincing at his achy muscles, to see Doyoung’s smug face smiling back at him. “I can’t remember.”

“Yup,” Doyoung had said and pushed him back down. “I was leaving Beijing remember? Going back home?”

"Right. Exchange and all that." Doyoung had only been in Beijing for a year and they’d met just before the end of the first semester.

"Right. You broke up with me because you said it wouldn’t work out. That’s all you’d said at the time." Doyoung had snorted. They could laugh about it now, but it had taken them a year and about twenty thousand fights to get back on speaking terms. Now they were more than friends, less than lovers for sure, but Kun couldn’t imagine a life without him.

"I wasn’t good for you. You deserved more,” Kun had said, taking his time to pronounce the words carefully. Doyoung had to understand, he had to understand him. “I couldn’t give that to you. Not even in Beijing, let alone in different countries."

Doyoung had flicked his head. "You were always enough, stupid. But you’re even better now.” 

Kun had yelped, swatting at Doyoung’s fingers before he could do it again. "I am?"

"You're here in Seoul, lying on the expensive floor of your own bookstore.” Doyoung had flicked his head again. Kun had just let it happen. Resistance was futile.

"Only took a horrible relationship to get here."

"No.” Doyoung had sighed, “You accomplished all of this by yourself.”

Before Kun could retort, Sicheng had groaned loudly from where he was half lying on top of Ten on the couch. "Shut up, you sick fucks."

"Go back to sleep, Sicheng, they’re having a moment," Ten had mumbled and Kun was only a little bit embarrassed knowing that Ten and Sicheng heard their entire conversation.

Half-asleep, Sicheng had garbled something wholly unintelligible, maybe something along the lines of eat dogshit Ten . Doyoung had laughed and gently lifted Kun’s head off his lap, lying down next to him on the hardwood, then he'd drifted off to sleep like he hadn’t shaken Kun to his core less than a minute ago. 

Kun had stared up at the high ceiling, his three best friends snoring around him, thinking that if he could just get through this little two-year hump, if he could just pull enough of himself together, then maybe he could go back to China for a little while. See his parents with a genuine smile on his face and show them that he's not a complete fuck up. That he's now only somewhat of a fuck up, but at least one with his own brick and mortar store.

That was two years ago and he still hasn’t been back home. He tried to go back, but he can’t really leave the store to Chenle. When he does have time to close-up shop, his parents are always up to ,something themselves. like travelling the world or visiting a yoga-painting retreat on a secluded mountain. Luckily, his parents do stop by to visit him in Seoul whenever they can, though. But Chinese air? He can hardly remember how bad it tastes. Kun misses China, but he doesn’t miss the person he used to be when he lived there.

This is what Kun now knows to be true about himself: he likes order, he likes playing flight simulator when he has the time, he likes cooking, he likes reading anything and everything he can get his hands on (except Dan Brown), he’s starting to like origami, he likes listening to Jay Chou, he likes taking walks in the park behind the Antonov, he likes the neighbourhood, and he likes being good enough.

He doesn’t like taking risks, but he can. He doesn’t like having anxiety, but he copes. He also doesn’t like half the shit his friends like, but he lets himself be tugged along with whatever fuckery they’re up to because he loves his friends and he knows they'll have a good time together. They always do. 

His friends like food, and chaos and clubbing and impulse tattoos (that’s how they met Yuta) and saving tiny skittish animals while making friends with any random fuck on the side of the street (that’s how they met Taeyong and Jaehyun) and getting their ears pierced over and over, and speaking in volumes louder than strictly necessary (that’s how they made friends with Taeil who told them to shut the fuck up on the bus) and softcore porn, and fighting, and dancing, and taking business risks (that’s why they all supported Ten and him in their own ventures). And for some weird and inexplicable reason, they love Kun too. Despite their differences, Kun thanks the cosmos every day for somehow enmeshing their lives together. 

***

Every week some weird shit happens that’ll make Kun shake his head at something or someone. He used to think that his days were sufficiently eventful and full of wonder, but then Johnny had stumbled nakedly into his life. To be honest, it’s been a bit of an adjustment, this new uncertainty in the form of a tall, enigmatic movie star in his carefully curated schedule specifically designed to keep his personal issues at bay.

Kun is at the Antonov every Monday until Saturday from 9 in the morning until 8 in the evening, entertaining Ten and the kids, helping out the occasional customer or sending out orders. After work, he’ll either go home or do some shopping, or take a walk in the neighbourhood park, or say hi to Mrs Liu at the end of the street. He wouldn’t call himself an upstanding neighbour, but he somehow ended up being voted into the neighbourhood association key-committee, or the NAK. (Ten always calls him a fucking narc because of it.) He’d been teased about it by everyone for an entire week when he got inaugurated as an official member. Kun doesn’t know why shit like this happens to him. His free hours are usually strictly dedicated to doing chores, running errands all around town and catching up with the complete whirlwinds who he calls his friends. But he has other priorities lately. (Hint: rhymes with Bonny Buh.) 

Even now at the Antonov, on the last day of his workweek, he knows he should be getting a move on with his accountancy and maybe check up on the kids studying in the nook, and maybe find out where Chenle has gone. But all that is quickly forgotten when his phone buzzes, the sound of an incoming message cutting through Jay Chou’s soothing voice over the speakers of the Antonov. Ah, the joys of personalized notification sounds.

Johnny (16:49)

Where did you find my shirt? I was looking for it this morning.

Kun (16:49)

Under my bed.

Did you leave without wearing anything under your jacket?

Johnny (16:50)

Stole one of your sweaters again :O

Smells like you.

[Picture sent]

Kun (16:50)

Johnny!! I’m at the store anyone could’ve seen.

Johnny (16:50)

We both know you’re not that careless

It’s kinda small on me tho

Kun (16:50)

Shut up that’s clearly a normal fit on you.

Johnny (16:51)

Kinda tight around my biceps

You know, with all my rippling muscles 

Kun (16:51)

Wish you would use those rippling muscles to shut up.

Johnny (16:52) 

That hurts

Can’t you use your gorgeous muscles to say something sweet to me for once? 

Kun (16:52) 

I miss you a lot and it's only been about 13 hours since I’ve last seen you.

It's ridiculous. I know.

Johnny (16:53)

Baby, I think you just killed my brain

Wish I could come over tonight and show you what you do to me 

Kun (16:53)

Too bad.

“What's so funny, da-ge?” Renjun asks, slamming down a stack of magazines on the counter.

Kun startles, bones almost jumping out of his skin. “What? Oh, no nothing,” he says, sliding his phone in his pocket.

“Okay then...” Renjun trails off, obviously not convinced. He points at the stack. “So?”

“Hm? What?”

“Where do I put these?”

“Right! Sorry, you can put them upstairs, Renjun,” Kun stammers, before clearing his throat. He doesn’t know why the kid has him so frazzled. It must be his eyes. “Wait, why are you doing Chenle’s work? Where is he? And what is Jeno doing?”

Renjun shushes him, nudging his head towards the nook. “Jeno’s meditating, don’t worry about it. Chenle’s out grabbing snacks with Jisung, which you gave him permission for, like, five minutes ago. Are you okay?”

“Oh, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“You asked Lele to bring you a cup of coffee.”

“What the hell,” Kun blurts out.

Renjun gives him a stern look, putting his finger to his lips, signalling over to Jeno taking a nap— sorry, meditating— in the nook.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Renjun says, shaking his head. “You get weird when you’re in love, Kun-ge.”

“What?” Kun hisses. “Who says I’m in love?”

“Are you not? Chenle swears you’re dating someone. I’m inclined to believe him.”

“I—no. No, I’m not.”

“U-huh, sure. It’s all fine by me.” Renjun winks. “I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Sure, da-ge. I won't tell anyone about how there’s absolutely nothing to tell.”

“I’m going to wake Jeno up because you’re bullying me and I know he won't stand for it, ” Kun threatens.

“We’re leaving anyway, ” Renjun smiles wickedly. “Jeno!”

Jeno jerks in his sleep, snoring loudly, once, twice, before his eyes flutter open. “Hmhgn, yeah?”

“We've got to leave now if we want to catch that movie, can you pack up our stuff?”

“Oh, crap! You’re right!” Jeno rushes to his feet to organize their books (Renjun’s books, actually. His own never left his schoolbag). “Hyung! Thanks for having us again today.”

He looks on in disbelief as Renjun smiles sweetly at Jeno, then turns around to give him a pointed look alongside a wiggle of his eyebrows. He doesn’t even get the chance to defend himself because Renjun’s already off to hop up the stairs, magazines in tow.

Kun gets the nagging feeling that he should be a little worried about Jeno’s future. And his own.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It's not a busy day in the Antonov, as far as busy days go, but not having Renjun on the premises to help with moving stock while Chenle is out doing god knows what is finally taking its toll on his back and knees. Kun sometimes wonders how the hell he managed the store on his own for so long without any sprightly teenagers to do the heavy lifting. (Do not underestimate the fast decline of your physical health once you hit your twenties.) But then again, Kun was much younger when he set up shop. Maybe he should start joining the others at Jaehyun's gym.

He mulls over the pros and cons of going to the same gym with all his (frightfully healthier) friends as he absentmindedly puts away new astrology books on the upper floor. They've, unsurprisingly, been selling like hotcakes, which Ten had promised him they would when he was ordering new books last month. ("I still don't see how I can justify having astrology books in the store," he'd said upon which Ten had sighed, patting his head placatingly. "It's all the same to us laymen, Kun.") And wasn't that the truth? His regulars hadn't even blinked at the sudden increase in books that were only tangentially related to aviation. Maybe he should be more flexible about these things. 

Speaking of being flexible, maybe he'll join Ten, Sicheng and Yuta in their Pilates classes. It sounds infinitely more manageable than springing for a year-long gym subscription. He'd be forced to watch his friends maintain their hot bods while he'd only be there to not feel like he’s getting kicked in the lungs every time he goes up the stairs with a box of new additions. On the other hand, Jaehyun did say that he'd give him a sweet discount. Kun does love a good discount. Although maybe he is getting a bit ahead of himself. Maybe he should start off by jogging in the park once in a while. Maybe.

The ring of the shop bell pulls him away from his scary thoughts of jogging and doing cardio. He cranes his neck over the bannister to see Ten walk in, the heavy door of the shop falling close behind him.

"Oh, it's you." He'd hoped it'd be Chenle, his one and only employee who spends a curious amount of time away from the store. Kun supposes he lets the kid get away with too much. But really, he's too adorable to keep inside. "What did you do to Lele?" he calls down, remembering that Chenle and Jisung were supposed to drop by the café.

"We're teaching the kids how to throw knives, they're doing target practice on Hendery now," Ten says, cheerfully, smiling up at him from below. "But," he continues before Kun gets the chance to start yelling at him, "You should relax because they are actually having cake. Hendery is trying out a new recipe, look I even brought you some." Ten beams as he holds up a plate with what looks to be a sponge cake, carefully balanced on what Kun suspects is a nice cup of coffee.

Oh well, fuck the gym.

Kun sorts out the last few books in his box before storming down the stairs, making grabby hands at the delicious looking cake Ten's carefully maneuvering on the counter. Hendery is probably one of the clumsiest people he's ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he's got a real knack for baking despite having rocks for hands. It's a pity he's in engineering. The world of desserts needs him. Kun needs him.

Ten shakes his head at him, putting down the cup of coffee on the counter and pushes the plate full of cake to Kun before hoisting himself up on the counter. Always managing to plant his ass right on top of his ledgers.

Kun chooses to ignore him in favour of taking a bite of the deliciously golden cake, moaning at the vanilla bean and cream treat. He refuses to let Ten ruin his cake moment with whatever real reason he has to show up at his doorstep with treats. Ten never brings him coffee and a treat without an ulterior motive.

The last time Ten had personally brought him cake and coffee (a raspberry-chocolate tart to be precise, Kun still dreams of it sometimes) was when he'd been notified that he may or may not had crashed Kun's car into a lamp post when he and Sicheng had borrowed it for a weekend away from the city. It's a pity that they came out of it without a single scratch. Kun is only kidding, of course.

"What's wrong?" Kun asks with great reluctance when he's halfway through eating his cake, eyeing Ten from under his lashes with trepidation. He really can't enjoy the treat with Ten’s eyes on him scrutinizing his every bite, looking at him like he's about to tell him his cat died or something equally distressing.

"Nothing's wrong. Not with me at least," Ten says sweetly, swinging his legs back and forth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kun asks, knowing exactly what Ten means. He's been dreading this conversation, but he knew he couldn't keep getting away with ignoring the group chat and being conveniently busy these past few days. The only reason why he hasn't been cornered into spilling his guts yet is because everyone's been busy with their own things, or so he presumes. He hasn't actually paid attention to the hundreds of messages his friends shoot off in the group chats.

Ten raises his eyebrow, unamused. "You know what I mean."

"I think I actually don't," he lies, shoving another mound of cake in his mouth and taking a delicate sip of his perfectly brewed coffee to avoid having to talk.

"You're all… different," Ten says, gesturing at Kun's entire being, narrowly avoiding smacking Kun in the head. "Your vibe is off, man."

"Okay," he huffs, stabbing at the few crumbs of cake left on his plate. "Off how?"

Ten gives him a half-shrug. "Are you swiping again? That Grindr shit is cute and all, but you're not about to find your forever-dick on that app."

"You did not just say forever-dick," Kun chokes out, narrowly avoiding getting cake in his lungs, "and no I'm not back on Grindr. I've just been busy, that's all." He shudders, willing away memories of awful hook-ups and downright unsexy conversations.

"With what?" Ten asks and Kun barely catches himself from wincing.

"I'm thinking of changing things around or something," Kun mumbles, tapping the wooden counter. It isn't a complete lie, but also not the full truth. He has been thinking about making changes to the store, even before Johnny came along.

"Is business going that well?" Ten asks, cocking his head.

"Actually, it's going that bad. I'm thinking of re-branding. Chenle says I need an Instagram, or a cat, and ‘fun’ books. He's been begging me for months to let him manage an Instagram account."

"Fucking finally," Ten exclaims, and Kun doesn't know if he should even bother being annoyed at Ten's obvious delight despite his financial peril. "I don't know why you insist on preserving this place in the twentieth century. Go wild, put Dan Brown in the collection."

"I'm not putting Dan fucking Brown anywhere."

"Your loss, big boss." Ten crosses his arms as he laughs. But Kun’s heart drops to his stomach when he sobers up and presses on. "So, was that all you were planning on telling me, because a little birdie told me that you've been getting nightly visitors."

Kun purses his lips, fighting down his nerves to meet Ten's searching gaze and his stomach lurches at the hardness hiding behind Ten's worried eyes.

"Ningning or Hendery?" Xiaojun would never rat him out.

"Both." Ten shrugs.

Figures.

Kun exhales, letting go of a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He contemplates lying, again, but he doesn't have the strength to keep going on like this any longer. "Yeah, okay. They're right," he confesses, rubbing at his eyes. "I've sort of been seeing someone. Kind of. I don't know."

He braces himself for... well Kun doesn't really know what he's bracing himself for as he watches Ten's big brain process his admission. He sure as shit doesn't expect Ten to bark out a laugh, the hardness in his eyes quickly replaced by his familiar lethal twinkle. "Is he hot? Oh god, don't tell me its that guy you made out with at Cherry Bomb that last time you went out with us?"

"No." Kun groans at the memory, or what little memory he has of that night. He vividly remembers the splitting headache the next morning, though. "I don't even know that guy's name and I know that you know that."

"So, who is it?" Ten nudges him, scooting closer to where Kun's leaning against the counter. "Do I know him? Is he good in bed? I need details."

"T-That's not really any of your business," Kun sputters, feeling the tips of his ears burn despite knowing that Ten's only messing with him.

"It becomes my business when it's all my employees are talking about. Why are you being so sneaky?" Ten asks, and Kun can hear the hurt carefully concealed beneath layers of Ten's teasing and genuine concern. But they've been friends for so long, Kun could never miss Ten's sadness at being left in the dark.

"It's nothing," Kun croaks out, his throat thick with guilt at making his best friend feel like crap. "It's, I don't know, I think it's just a fling. You know how it goes… But it’s good, I think. We are fine."

"You sound anything but fine. Look, all I want to know is..." Ten crosses and re-crosses his arms before he continuing, voice softer now. "Are you okay?"

"It's just— I'm a bit tense lately. This guy, he is— He helps take the edge off." Kun worries at his lip. "But I don't want this to become a big thing, okay?"

"Alright. But—"

"No, buts! I'm fine," Kun interjects, cutting Ten off before he can say anything more. "Thank you, though, for your concern," he adds, belatedly.

"I was going to say that you could bring him over next Monday, but alright," Ten says, not entirely assuaged. He so clearly wants to ask more, but Kun is thankful that Ten lets it go. For now.

Kun frowns. "What's next Monday?"

"You're hosting us for an evening of refreshments and entertainment," Ten says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm always hosting you fucks for evenings of refreshments and entertainment." That's the curse of having the biggest house in your friend group.

"Yeah, but Johnny's coming over this time, you dick."

Kun blinks at the other, before remembering he has to reply. "Oh, right."

Ten just smiles at him. "Hey, give Johnny a call, will you? He wants to know if you're okay with the whole thing, something about feeling bad for springing this on you. I dunno, I wasn’t paying attention anymore. I'll send you his number," he rattles off, grabbing his phone from his apron. "You don't actually mind, do you?"

Kun finds that he actually doesn't mind, despite his crippling guilt and nerves. He does think that it'll be a good time for everyone involved, especially Ten and Johnny. "I'd like to remind you that I never explicitly consented to this, but yeah, it's fine. I'll ask Doyoung to get the usual, I'll figure out the food, so you just make sure to invite everyone."

"Thanks, Boss!" Ten cheers and taps away at his phone to presumably start arranging things, fuck if Kun knows.

He watches Ten fiddle with his phone, clearly elated and excited at the prospect of getting his friends together and consequently blowing their minds with the presence of his celebrity friend. He kind of wants to cry at how easy it is to be friends with Ten, how Ten so clearly wants him to be okay, even when he keeps fucking up all the time.

"So," Kun starts, realizing belatedly that there's no reason for him to keep on being an awful friend on top of lying all the damn time. He'll make sure to make it up to him. He'll make it up to everyone. "What's up with you lately? Anything new going on with the gang?"

Ten's gaze moves slowly from his phone to Kun's face. Kun doesn't know what he sees, because something in Ten's face gives, losing some of its edge that he knows he caused. He smiles and this time it's full of Ten's usual special brand of amusement, mischief, and everything good in the world. "Guess who finally got his dick pierced."

***

It’s hours later when Kun's busy making dinner that his phone chimes a familiar tune, signalling Johnny’s call. He barely manages to wipe his hands on his apron and pick up before the second ring. "You're such an ass for having Ten ask me to call you."

"Hello to you, too." Johnny laughs and the sound settles in Kun's chest, filling the little cracks that today's anxieties brought him with warmth.

"Hi, you'll be there, then?"

"If you're okay with it," Johnny hums.

"You're the guest of honour," Kun replies, puzzled at the uncertainty in Johnny's voice.

"That's not an answer.”

"I really want you to come, Johnny," Kun affirms, voice going soft. He waits a second for Johnny to reply and when it doesn't come, he continues. "Ten's excited."

That gets a groan out of Johnny and Kun has to laugh at his despair. "Of course he is. He says I need friends. I think this is him taking direct action."

"They're good people," he says, trying to reassure Johnny. "You already know Ten and me and I think my house mates will be around. Yizhuo is at her lab ‘till late, though, I think. But Ten invited everyone: Yuta and Doyoung, Taeyong, too. I think Jaehyun wasn’t sure if he could come— Oh! And Taeil-hyung, I’ve mentioned him, right? I’m sure you’ll like them…” Kun trails off, snapping his mouth shut when he realizes he's been rambling.

His word vomit earns him a weak chuckle from Johnny, barely audible on the other side of the line. "I'm more concerned that they won't like me."

Kun frowns. "Why wouldn't they? You're funny, sweet, and the fact that you're friends with Ten will earn you everyone's respect already for putting up with his bullshit."

"Are my ears deceiving me or are you showering me in compliments?" Johnny gasps in mock disbelief.

"Yes, I am," Kun replies solemnly.

Something clatters on the background and Kun turns around to see if he dropped anything, before realizing it is coming from Johnny's side. He pauses, hearing Johnny's muffled voice speaking English. He can follow snippets of a conversation, something along the lines of dinner reservations, financial reports and other things he can't catch before Johnny comes back through, sounding even more tired than he did before. "Sorry about that, I've got to get to a dinner meeting."

"That's alright," Kun says, hoping his disappointment doesn't bleed through in his voice. "Call me later?"

"I still have time to talk. The restaurant is across town, so it'll be a little bit of a drive. Not that I'm driving, I have a chauffeur—two actually, three in L.A. — anyway. We can talk while I'm on the way. If you'd like, that is," Johnny rushes out and Kun laughs, because this time Johnny's doing the rambling. 

"Yeah, I'd like to," Kun says, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. He wedges his phone in between his shoulder and ear, going back to chopping vegetables. "A dinner meeting, huh. Are you prepared?"

"I've got it all worked out in my head. Plus, I'm wearing your sweater for good luck," Johnny says, his smirk evident in the lilt of his voice.

"Right. The yellow one."

"Worried I'll spill food on it?" Johnny teases.

"No," Kun snorts. "Although now that you mention it... I have seen you wolf down your food on more than one occasion. I was thinking that it might be inappropriate to wear a bright yellow sweater to a dinner meeting. I don't know, maybe that's just me."

"It makes me happy, so I'm gonna wear it," Johnny singsongs in reply.

"Whatever you want, you big baby," Kun coos.

Johnny's laugh this time is more genuine and carefree, and Kun basks in the sound of it. "How was your day?"

"Chenle's friends came over today when during his shift. I swear Renjun's so scary. He spends too much time around Ten and Sicheng."

"I haven't even met the kid, but I'm already afraid."

"You should be." Kun laughs, shaking his head at the thought of Renjun and Johnny meeting one day, before remembering that's probably never going to happen. "How are you holding up?"

Johnny mulls over the question, humming as he does so. "Tiring, but good, mostly. Depending on how my next few meetings go we’ll get the funding we need and we’ll be ready to start pre-production soon."

"I have no idea what that means," Kun confesses. "But it sounds like you had a productive day. Rest well later, okay?"

"I'll try."

Kun's about to lecture Johnny on the importance of resting up well right when Xiaojun storms into the kitchen, looking frantic, looking under the table and in cabinets before throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "Kun-ge, do you know where my- oh you're on the phone. Sorry, never mind."

"Hold on," Kun says into the phone before turning back to where Xiaojun's trying to look over the fridge. "Don't worry, just talking to a friend. What do you need?"

Xiaojun turns back around, fidgeting with his oversized shirt sleeves. "D'you know where I put my notebook? The new one we bought a little while ago?"

Kun thinks it over for a second, remembering that it was only a few nights ago that he saw Xiaojun strum his guitar on the couch, the notebook in question balanced precariously on his knees. "Check the couch."

''Kay!" Xiaojun says as he shoots off towards the living room.

Kun cranes his neck to see into the living room. "Did you find it?"

"No, I swear it's not- oh wait I got it! Thanks, ge!" He waves his notebook at Kun, running back upstairs to no doubt work on his music.

"No problem!" Kun shouts back, but he's sure that the other doesn't hear him anymore. He turns back to his phone. "Hi, sorry, I'm back."

It takes a moment for Johnny to reply. "Just talking to a friend, huh."

Kun pauses, wetting his lips. "You understood that?"

"A little, yeah." Johnny's voice sounds distant.

He swallows, fingering at the chopped carrots on his cutting board. “I mean… Aren’t we?”

"Yes, I suppose so. You're right," Johnny answers.

Kun can’t get a feel for what he’s thinking at all. He checks the time and winces. “Look, I have to go, you know, finish dinner. Everyone is going to start piling into the kitchen, too.” He knows it’s a weak excuse for an escape, but he needs to end this conversation now.

Johnny’s sighs on the other side of the line are barely audible. “Right, okay."

"Goodbye," Kun whispers into the phone.

"Bye," Johnny says, ending the call.

Kun carefully puts his phone down on the counter, plugging it back into the charger and takes a deep breath.

Get through the next five seconds, then the next five minutes. Don’t fucking panic.

He turns back to his cutting board. He needs to finish chopping the vegetables for the curry, then brown the meat and prepare the rice. He can finish dinner without an anxiety attack. He will finish dinner without tearing up. So Kun steels himself, grips his knife with all the courage he can muster and makes it through two carrots before his fingers lose their purchase, sending strip of carrot flying all over the place as his knife clatters on the kitchen counter. He sighs at the mess he's made of the veggies. And his shitty life.

Kun takes his knife in his hands again, feels the weight of it in his palm. Steady, sturdy, reliable. This knife has never failed him. He shouldn't throw it around just because he's upset that he keeps messing things with everyone he cares about. He shouldn't throw it around just because he can't ever say the right thing. But there's nothing he can do right now. Dinner must be made, and he's afraid that he'll only make things worse. He goes back to chopping.

Xiaojun and Hendery file into the kitchen not long after he's set the rice cooker and his curry’s bubbling away on the stove. They quickly note his sullen mood and it makes Kun feel like crap for bringing his shit into their business, but he's grateful when they join him at the dinner table and start telling him stories of customers and fellow students. ("Kun-ge, Hendery and Ten-ge made me drink wasabi!" "It was Ten's idea, I swear!") The ridiculousness of their stories making Kun's belly ache and his cheeks warm with laughter, barely able to plate up their food because his cheeks hurt.

Yizhuo finally stumbles in, still wearing her lab coat when they're almost done eating. Xiaojun runs off to make a plate for her while she gets cleaned up and they all decide to linger around, sitting with her while she munches on her dinner.

“What was that about a wasabi latte on Dejun-ge’s story?” Ningning manages to ask in between huge bites of curry, setting off another round of laughter.

Kun's full from their banter, full of pride helping Xiaojun with his music, full of admiration watching Hendery study after working all morning and going to classes all day, and full of appreciation when Yizhuo drags him in front of the television to watch Spongebob together.

But when Kun finally goes to sleep, after tiredly climbing up the stairs to his room and throwing himself on his bed, he's greeted by the intimately familiar smell of bergamot and sandalwood. He pops open an eye only to see Johnny’s forgotten shirt lying inches away from his face and he wonders to himself what the fuck they are really doing with each other.

With nothing else to it, Kun rolls off the bed and grabs the offending article, burying it somewhere deep in his closet. He crawls back under his sheets with a knot in his stomach, resolutely ignoring the lingering smell of Johnny's cologne on his pillow and the distinct lack of good night messages on his phone.

Chapter Text

Kun blinks at the dark, one eye at a time, wondering why the fuck he’s awake, belatedly registering the incessant noise coming from beneath his pillow. It’s his phone, of course, ringing loudly, which he only realizes when the ringing stops, and then starts up again at full blast. With a bleary glance at his alarm clock, he realizes that it's ringing fucking loudly at two in the fucking morning. Something is either very wrong, or someone is about to receive the ass-whooping of the century.

He blindly searches for his phone and drags it to his ear once he gets a good grip on it, lest it falls on his face as it has many times in the past. He means to say 'hello,' but what comes out of his mouth instead is a throaty "Nngh?"

"Can I see you?" Johnny rasps out.

His tone makes Kun sit up, cursing himself for not recognizing the special ringtone he’d set for Johnny as he flicks on the light on his bedside table.

"Now?" he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes to force himself awake.

"Please?" Johnny asks, the word spoken so faintly that he almost misses it in the haze of his sleep-muddled mind.

"Yeah," Kun says, but it comes out much softer and unsure than he intended, so he coughs and tries again. "Yes, of course."

His nerves ease up a little when Johnny lets out a relieved breath on the other line. "I'm outside."

Kun hangs up instead of answering, shooting out of the tangle of his sheets in a hurry. He throws open his closet and slides on the first pair of jeans he finds over his bare legs, bouncing on his feet to get them on as quickly as possible. He keeps on the sweater he slept in and pockets his phone before tiptoeing down the stairs, shaking his head at Xiaojun’s loud snores audible from the hall. Once he gets to the doorway, he jams his feet in his converses and grabs his keys from their fish-shaped key holder, absently noting that Hendery's keys are missing. He must be out too.

He sneaks out, careful to let the door fall silently behind him and takes his time getting down the stairs. He's still a little fuzzy from sleep and his nerves are bubbling away in his stomach as it turns itself into knots. Kun's already prone to clumsy accidents, the last thing he wants is to tumble down the stairs while he's still busy waking up.

He can smell Johnny before he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the familiar scent of his cigarettes wafting up the short staircase. He finds the other leaning against the door of the Antonov, cigarette dangling from his lips and staring into the distance as he waits. Johnny looks tired and cold, only wearing Kun's own yellow sweater and a leather jacket on top of ripped jeans, but his overworked state isn't new.

What is new, though, is the jittery tapping of his boot against the pavement and the dejected furrow of his brows. Kun tries to push away the voice in his head telling him that he's the one to blame for it. It's not entirely successful.

His sneakers squeak against the dewy concrete of the stairs, the sound startling Johnny from his thoughts, making him turn to look up at him.

"Hi," Kun says, hovering on the last step and nervously cramming his hands in the front pocket of his sweater. He doesn't know if he should come closer, doesn't know if he has ruined things between them by running his stupid mouth.

Johnny puts out his cigarette with the sole of his boot, disposing of the little stub in the portable ashtray Kun got him within days of their budding rendezvous. He kicks off from the wall, coming to stand in front of Kun in the small opening of the stairway. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay." Kun shrugs, noting the hoarseness in Johnny's voice. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Johnny ducks his head and kicks at a stray pebble, jerking when it bounces off a step and rolls back next to his boot. Kun waits, fiddling with his fingers inside his sweater pocket as he watches Johnny sigh and run a hand through his already unruly hair.

"Can I—" Johnny starts, looking up at Kun and holding out his hand. He takes it, letting Johnny usher him down the last step. "I would like to take you somewhere. Will you come with me?"

"Right now?" he asks, but he already knows that it doesn't matter. He'd go wherever and whenever Johnny wants him.

Johnny only nods, playing with Kun's fingers he’s holding in his own cold hands.

"I have a neighbourhood committee lunch meeting at noon," Kun muses, cocking his head as he thinks over the rest of his Sunday schedule. But other than some much-needed grocery shopping and a few other errands, he should be free for the day.

"That's not a no," Johnny says slowly, voice full of hope.

"No. Not a no. What I mean is— Yeah. Yes. Take me wherever you want," Kun rambles, stumbling over his words, flustered at Johnny's blatant need for him. But it's worth it for the way Johnny's eyes crinkle when he finally smiles at him, worth it for the way he pulls him in by the hip, gently kissing the rest of his words from his mouth.

"Thank you," Johnny breathes against his neck, holding him close.

Kun hums in reply, hooking his chin over Johnny's shoulder. He closes his eyes and lets his body press into Johnny's, basking in the familiar scent of his soap and something entirely unique to the other. He thinks he could fall asleep standing like this, safe and warm in Johnny's embrace. He almost succumbs to the sleep tugging at the back of his mind, but Johnny's arms tighten around his waist and bring him back.

"Hold on, I've gotta..." Johnny trails off, but he doesn't pull away, even as he struggles to fish his phone from his pocket without letting go. Kun faintly registers Johnny's fingers tapping along something on his phone and before long Johnny's warm hands return, making him shiver where he is stroking his back.

"I had to send a message," Johnny explains. But honestly, Kun's too content in the glow of his heat and spice to think much of it.

One text and not even five minutes later, two SUVs pull up at the curb. Kun definitely doesn’t whine when Johnny lets go of him, both ignoring the little dab of drool on Johnny's shoulder. He looks on dazedly as a big burly man exits the first car, giving them a small wave before he slips into the passenger’s seat in the second car. The lady at the steering wheel throws them a peace sign which makes Johnny laugh before she drives off.

Kun's about to ask what's going on, but Johnny takes him by the hand and ushers him towards the remaining car. He holds the door open and Kun, somewhat inelegantly, crawls inside. He buckles up and yawns, watching Johnny walk around to the driver's seat.

Johnny plops behind the steering wheel and buckles up. "Tommy and Liv are my bodyguards," he explains and just like that they're off to god knows where.

"Are they always around?" Kun asks, not so subtly eyeing the way Johnny handles the steering wheel. He's a one-handed kind of guy, the other resting on his thigh. Kun is torn between telling Johnny to please, please, please drive with two hands on the steering wheel like a responsible person, but he also kind of wants to take Johnny's hand in his own. Instead, he opts to shut his mouth and suffer in silence.

"Yeah, pretty much," Johnny answers, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Even when you're with me?"

The question makes Johnny pause and Kun swears he sees a blush form across his cheeks. "Actually, I, uh, I bought them a place near you. So, they, you know, don't have to wait around in the car or drive across town to my closest apartment and then come back again to pick me up."

"You're kidding," Kun says, incredulous, but he knows Johnny's telling the truth by the way he chuckles and sheepishly rubs at his neck. "You're insane."

"It's better than having them drive all the way to my apartment if we're working in your neighbourhood anyway. They tore me a new one that first night when I disappeared on them. I figured why not make it easier on all of us," Johnny explains like it isn't a big deal.

Remembering Johnny's net worth, Kun supposes it really isn't all that crazy for him.

"Is that where you sleep when you're not with me?" Kun asks as they pull into the highway. Watching the city fly by, he idly wonders where they're going.

"Come to think of it... I haven't been back to my apartment. I bought the new house for Liv and Tom." He shoots Kun a quick smile, suddenly giddy. "They're married, you know. They had their wedding last year in L.A. It was magical."

"Really? Then where do you go if you're not with me?" Kun asks, returning his smile even though Johnny's turned his eyes to the road already. It's sweet that Johnny seems to be close with his bodyguards, but Kun can't help but balk at the thought that Johnny bought a house just like that. And that he has bodyguards. Two of them. Who were at his doorstep in five minutes flat. At two in the fucking morning. Kun needs to lie down and process™.

"I'm usually on a job when I'm not with you. I sleep whenever I can," Johnny answers with frightening ease.

Kun doesn't know what to say to that revelation, his head spinning at the things that Johnny has kept away from him. "Where are we going?" he asks instead, biting back a yawn.

"Sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there," Johnny says and his voice is so full of fondness that even Kun's malfunctioning brain is capable of registering it.

Kun wants to stay awake. He wants to take it in, Johnny in an unfamiliar setting, somewhere that's not his own store or his room. He still kind of can't believe that Johnny's driving him somewhere. Johnny in the wild. Together, with him. But he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. He tries to shake away the sleep, struggles to keep in another yawn when Johnny’s free hand slides over his thigh and closes over his own. He feels Johnny count each of his knuckles, over and over, like each tap is meant to mimic the touch of his lips. Kun lets the sweet rhythm of Johnny’s touch and the warmth of his hand coax him to sleep.

They are pulled up to a driveway of a cosy looking cottage when he wakes, comfortably propped up against the car door.

"You're drooling," Johnny laughs, handing him a tissue from the dashboard.

Kun yawns and takes it, not even bothering to grace Johnny with a defence. It was a good nap, okay.

When Johnny gets out of the car, Kun takes a moment to really wake up. He looks around, only to find that, apart from the small dark green painted house lit by a single lamp by the wooden door, there's nothing else but tall grass in sight. He has the feeling that they're not in Seoul anymore. But his worry is quickly forgotten when he sees Johnny's waiting for him at the door, wearing a goofy but sleepy grin that Kun really wants to kiss away, so he rushes over to do just that. Johnny easily catches him in his arms, matching Kun's enthusiasm as they kiss, both feeling unsteady but thrilled being together out in the open.

He presses Johnny into the door, mumbling an apology against his full lips when he hisses at the handle poking into his lower back. But Johnny only tilts his head, nipping sharply at Kun’s bottom lip before gently nudging him away.

A little dazedly, Kun blinks up at Johnny only to find him staring right at him, his bright eyes illuminated by the moonlight above and the lantern by the door. 

Johnny’s palms slide up his back to hold him close and Kun holds his breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kun wants to tell Johnny to shut up, to stop looking at him as if he’s actually worth his time. But he’d be lying if he told him that and Kun is so sick and tired of his own dishonesty, especially when Johnny’s attention really makes him burn so hot it makes him feel invincible. He’s never wanted anything more than Johnny’s sweetness and he has it right here in front of him even after he fucked things up between them. So he shakes his head and loops his arms around Johnny’s neck and pulls him down again, hoping that he’ll understand everything he can’t say, hoping that Johnny feels what he is feeling as he presses their mouths together, tongues sliding against each other hot and slow. 

A gust of cold autumn wind has them shivering and they let each other go long enough for Johnny to lead them inside. The door falls shut behind them with a decisive click and Johnny carefully configures the security system while Kun takes a second to look around.

It is pleasantly warm inside, though sparsely decorated, Kun notes as he toes off his converses. It looks hardly lived in, but the place nonetheless carries that distinct Johnny smell.

"I want to bottle it all up," Kun mumbles to himself, taking in the fireplace nestled in the open living room, the adjoining kitchen to the side of the door and a hallway going fuck knows where.

"What was that?" Johnny asks, nuzzling him from behind once he's shrugged off his jacket and zipped out of his boots.

"Nothing," Kun says, happily leaning into the touch. But then his eyes catch the alcove on the far side of the room. He blinks. "Is that a hammock?"

Johnny’s laugh tickles his neck before he's pushed forward. "Go on, I'll join you in a minute. I'm going to take a quick shower."

Kun nods absentmindedly, already making a beeline to the biggest hammock he's ever seen in his entire life. And that says something, considering his new-age parents owned many a hammock in many a size. He climbs in, marvelling at how he feels right at home even though it must have been years since he's last hung out and about. He burrows into the soft fabric and later on he'll be embarrassed at how fast he slips away into a pleasant sleep.

He doesn't know how long he's been out of it when he wakes up again for the third time that night. But this time, he is pleased to wake up to Johnny climbing on top and over him, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

"You're heavy," Kun says, voice sleep gruff. He can't control the whine he lets out when Johnny starts to move away, his arm shooting out to pull him right back down. "Wait, don't actually go."

"You're bossy when you're tired," Johnny mumbles against his cheek with a laugh, minty-fresh breath dancing across his sensitive sleep warmed skin.

Kun grins, adjusting his position so they're facing each other. He scoots closer, burrowing his face in Johnny's bare chest, smelling like an unfamiliar but warmly-spiced soapy scent.

"Why'd you really take me here?" he asks eventually before he gets the chance to fall asleep again, mouthing the words into Johnny's collarbone, smiling when it makes him shiver.

"I'm sorry about today, on the phone," Johnny says, voice low as he nestles closer. "It was unfair to put you in that position. I shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't have hung up like that," Kun whispers, grateful for their closeness so he doesn't have to look Johnny directly in the eye. "We both know that you weren't wrong."

"You weren't wrong either."

"Yeah, but friends don't do things like this to each other last time I checked," Kun manages to joke.

Johnny snorts into Kun's hair and they laugh, the hammock rocking ever so slightly.

"Kun, we need to talk about us. About what we're doing."

"I know," Kun croaks out, hiding his face.

"What are we doing?" Johnny’s palm comes to rest at Kun’s neck, his thumb rubbing circles into his sensitive skin.

"I don't know, but I don't want it to stop."

“Me neither,” Johnny starts, letting out a shaky breath before he continues, “I want to be with you. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours, too.”

Kun startles at the confession, searching Johnny’s eyes as his heart jumps to his throat. “You’ve only known me for eleven days.”

“Is it wrong for me to feel this way? I don’t think anyone else knows me as you do,” Johnny says, a little sadly. “Remember that night we met?”

“Of course I remember,” Kun answers in a whisper.

"You gave me the chance to be myself again without expecting anything from me. You pulled me in right when I began to pull away from myself,” Johnny says with a lopsided smile and Kun remembers all those nights where Johnny had looked so tired and maybe even a little lost. “You’re kind, funny, and you work so hard. I don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t do to help someone in need.”

“There are so many other people who could make you feel all those things, too,” Kun blurts out, the words coming out without a single thought, but as soon as he said them he wishes he could take them all back. Kun expects Johnny to let him go, to realize that he’s right. Instead, Johnny shakes his head and cups his face with a gentle touch so warm it makes Kun want to scream.

“I’ve never felt this way in my entire life. I can’t let that go, I can’t let you go.” Johnny’s thumb skirts right beneath his eye, carefully tickling his eyelashes. “Will you go out with me? Do you feel this way too, even a little bit?”

Kun turns his face into his touch, closing his eyes at the swell of emotions rushing over him at Johnny’s words, forcing out his next words in a sharp whisper before he can bite them down. “You’re all I can think about. I worry about you— worry about what you’re doing, if you’re tired, if you’re eating. I spend so much time with you, but I always want more. I want more of us, but it scares me so much.”

Johnny’s fingertips brush through his hair. “Why?”

“Because,” Kun says, voice wobbling over the word, trying very hard not to break out into the sob he can feel building in his lungs and chest, “God, Johnny look at you. What the hell are you even doing with me?”

“I mean it when I say that I have never wanted anyone else like this, except for you.” The intensity of Johnny’s voice makes Kun's eyes flutter open, meeting his steady gaze. It is so full of conviction and softness that maybe, just a little bit, Kun starts to believe it too.

“What about your work? Are you— will you come out, eventually? Or will we have to keep this a secret?” Kun swallows, the mere thought of having to do that all over again has him shaking. “I can’t do that again, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyes darken, his eyes so full of worry that Kun has to look away. “Again?”

“My ex, the one from Beijing. He, um, I don’t know how to explain this,” Kun stumbles over the words, but he has to let Johnny know. He has to make him understand. “I guess you could say he was kind of abusive? So, I need to know that you're sure. that you're not going to change your mind about being out. I need to know that you won't get angry if I kiss you in public.”

“He did that to you?”

Kun nods and chews his bottom lip. “I don't want to force you into anything you're not ready to do yet, but I need to know that you’re sure. I can't be in a relationship where I have to hide a part of me. I don’t want to have to lie to my friends and family, I don’t want to constantly be afraid that you’re going to resent me. I know that's not the answer you want, but it's the only answer I can give you right now. Please, don't be upset.”

"Baby, I'm not upset at all. How could I be," Johnny whispers, leaning in closer to kiss Kun’s ruddy lips. “You never deserved to go through that. I’m so sorry, fuck, I made you lie again, didn’t I? I’m making you do that all over again.”

“No,” Kun protests, mouthing the words into the stubble on Johnny’s chin. “This is different. You are different.”

Johnny nudges him back a little only to sweetly rest his palm on his cheek, his eyes determined. “I’ll think this through for both of us, but I just want you to know that what we have, whatever this is, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Kun has to shut his eyes at the words before he makes things awkward by having a mental breakdown in Johnny's fucking hammock. He collects himself, though, focusing on the weight of Johnny against him. He manages to swallow down all his uncertainties and tries to focus on the giddiness he's feeling.

He opens his eyes again to Johnny's stupid grin, looking at him with so much devotion and tenderness that he can't help but whimper. He reaches up and Johnny leans down to meet him for a messy kiss, open-mouthed and full of want. Johnny moans into the kiss and Kun presses in harder, tilting Johnny's head to deepen their angle, hoping that it'll convey just how thankful he is to be heard and held instead of pushed away. 

Johnny is the first to break away, leaving a single wet kiss on Kun’s nose. "Will you think about something for me, too?"

Kun scrunches his face, the cold wetness making him feel icky. He wipes his nose on Johnny’s skin. “What is it?”

“I know that you don't know much about my career— which is fine and actually hilarious— but you should think about if that's something you want to get involved in,” Johnny says and there’s a kind of resignation in his expression that Kun has never seen before. “The lifestyle can be brutal and I don't know how it'll be for us if we decide to do this. I have no experience with any of this, but my legal team is amazing and I'll fight for us, for our privacy, and for whatever you need."

Kun grimaces. "You're really, really famous, huh."

"Yeah, a little bit." Johnny laughs.

"I'll think about it, for us," Kun says with a newfound determination and he just knows that the way Johnny’s looking at him will be seared in his mind forever.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Johnny says eventually as he climbs out of the hammock, barely catching himself from falling over.

"I wanna stay here," Kun grumbles.

"You're going to regret it in the morning."

"Fine," Kun says, tucking in and rolling out of the hammock in a well-practised move.

"You've got hammock experience?" Johnny asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. "It took me ages to roll out without critically hurting myself," he says, pouting when Kun barks out a laugh.

"You don't even know the half of it," Kun smirks, elbowing Johnny in the ribs. "Now show me where the magic happens in this house."

Kun follows Johnny out to the only hallway, into the first door on the left. There's a huge bed and a closet, but not much else except for what's surely an expensive rug and a window lined with black-out curtains on the far side of the room.  

"Need pyjamas?" Johnny asks and Kun shakes his head.

Johnny unceremoniously dives into the bed as Kun strips out of his sweater and jeans, discarding them on the floor to be dealt with at a later moment. He slides in next to Johnny, throwing his arms across his hip, pressing their bodies together: chest to back, legs tangled in a mess of limbs.

Kun runs his hand across Johnny's stomach and Johnny half-heartedly swats it away, giggling into his pillow at the sensation.

"I'm really glad you came for me tonight," Kun whispers against the soft brown hairs at the nape of Johnny's neck.

"Thank you for coming with me," Johnny sighs contentedly, wriggling even closer into Kun's chest.

He can tell immediately when Johnny falls asleep, the perpetual tension in his shoulders ease up, his breath evens out and he begins to heat up like a furnace.

Kun lets himself take it in, lets himself catalogue this new feeling of elation and contentment sink into his skin as he presses his lips to Johnny's sleep-warm ear. The other doesn't stir, instead letting out a pleased huff, setting off a whole new emotional cocktail of bliss and longing and hope in Kun. He smiles and it hits him, then, that he is in love with John Suh. He might have been head over heels all along. Before he can panic, though, his tiredness overtakes him and he finds himself falling into a sweet and dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

It isn’t often that Kun wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. Less often than that does he wake up to a warm hand slowly, carefully, running up and down his back in a steady rhythm. He sighs at the touch, turning his face into the clean cotton warmth of the pillow and cants his hips into the caress in a drowsy movement. He settles back against the warm body lying next to him, doing his best to hide his smile when Johnny tugs him even closer, his wandering fingers skirting dangerously low on Kun’s belly. Happy in this new position with Johnny’s hair tickling his neck, Kun is ready to fall right back asleep, chasing after the little thread of lingering dreams weighing down his eyelids. He is so close to sleep, so so close— until he hears a harsh click followed by a low whir.

“What’s that sound?” Kun mumbles, more than annoyed at the disturbance. He wants to sleep, damn it.

“Curtains. They’re pre-timed,” Johnny answers lazily, making Kun shudder as he mouths at his bare shoulder and fuck of course this motherfucker has high-tech curtains.

Sunlight pours into the room and Kun groans. He very much wants to sleep more so fuck all of that, he thinks as he sluggishly turns around, burying his face in Johnny’s chest to seek refuge from the harsh light. He feels the rumble of Johnny’s laughter more than he hears it. He’ll deal with that smug bastard later.

But, of course, Johnny has other plans.

“Hey, sleepyhead, d’you sleep well?” Johnny asks, whispering the words in the crown of Kun’s head.

It takes a second for Kun to process the words, he is a little too focused on the tickling sensation of Johnny’s lips moving against his hair, a little too drowsy to realize that Johnny’s actually talking to him.

“I was until you woke me up. Again,” Kun says, nipping at the soft, sleep-warm skin at Johnny’s throat, hoping he’ll leave behind little marks even though he’s not really supposed to. But Johnny’s never begrudged him for it, has never begrudged him for anything. “And you?”

Johnny shivers at a particularly hard bite, goosebumps forming across his chest. “How could I not with you here?”

“Corny.” Kun runs his fingers along Johnny’s pronounced collarbones and decides that he has to figure out if he’s eating well. “Don’t think you’re off the hook for waking me up.”

“Wasn’t counting on it,” Johnny says, catching Kun’s hand in his own. “What do you want to do today?”

“First we sleep a little longer. You’re free until five, right?” Kun cranes his neck, reaching to see over Johnny’s shoulder. He squints at the undoubtedly expensive alarm clock on the undoubtedly also expensive side table and frowns at the time he sees displayed in a red-hot hue.

Fucking 7:03. Kun can’t believe that he’s awake this early on his only free day. He should be sleeping in and enjoying a lazy-ish Sunday damn it. Mentally, Kun throws the clock and the fucking curtains the finger and all other fingers in the goddamn world.

He settles back on the bed, looking up to see Johnny distracted, eyes locked on where their hands are still linked between them. Oh well. Kun figures that he can’t complain, especially when the alternative would’ve been to wake up alone at home at seven in the fucking morning. He squeezes their clasped hands and hooks his leg over Johnny’s hip. “I’ve missed this. All this sleeping around and this is only our second morning together.” 

Johnny shuffles closer, his free hand coming to rest on Kun’s thigh. “I’ve missed this too. But the adrenaline rush I get every time I sneak out of your house is kind of addictive,” he jokes, laughing at the scandalized frown on Kun’s face.

“Your schedule, please, you clown.”

“I have a call I need to take at eight, but I should be free after that, at least until the afternoon. You can sleep a little more.”

“Can you take your call in bed?”

“I guess I can,” Johnny considers, his nose scrunching up cutely as he thinks. “If you don’t dismember me for talking while you’re trying to sleep.”

“I promise I’ll keep each and every part of your body intact,” Kun says, solemnly holding up his free hand. “Stay.”

“Okay.” Johnny smiles at him, then, and Kun almost forgives him for waking him up.

“Good,” Kun says, smushing his face in the crook of Johnny's neck. They’re wrapped up together in a cocoon of limbs and blankets, velvety skin against velvety skin, not quite awake but also not quite asleep, balancing right on the edge of slumber. Kun thinks that Johnny has ruined sleep for him forever. Nothing in this world will ever top their naps.

Johnny startles at the chime of his phone, his arms tightening around Kun’s waist.

“I’m going to shoot that thing,” Kun says, feeling awfully cold when Johnny turns to grab his phone.

“Sorry, it’s work,” Johnny mumbles as he sits up and reads through his texts.

“S’okay.” Kun rubs his eyes, shifting a little to drop his head in Johnny’s lap, sighing contentedly when Johnny buries his fingers in his hair.

“Shit.” Johnny’s grip tightens ever so slightly on his locks.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wardrobe issue. I need to go to a fitting today.”

“Oh,” Kun says, trying to keep the disappointment bubbling in his stomach out of his voice. “What time do you have to go?”

“I can drop by whenever I have time,” Johnny replies, mulling it over. “Maybe I’ll go after I drive you to your meeting? I could pick you up when you’re done, and we could go for a late lunch if you’d like?”

“Like a,” Kun starts, voice hoarse. “Like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date,” Johnny says softly.

Kun fights hard to resist the urge to yell into a pillow. It’s funny how he’s so bashful about something so innocent as a date, considering the salacious things they’ve done together (and to each other) in the relative safety of his room. But here he is, nearly hyperventilating at the thought of going for lunch together.

“How are we going to do that?” he asks, forcing his grin down but one glance at Johnny’s goofy face shows he is equally giddy. Why the fuck is he so cute?

“I know a place downtown,” Johnny suggests, playing with Kun’s hair. “It’s pretty low-key, members-only kind of thing. No paparazzi inside the building meaning we can go there without being accosted.”

“You’d want to do that with me? In public?”

“Yeah,” Johnny gives him a dopey smile. “Unless you don’t want to? Which is fine, I understand.”

“No!” Kun rushes out, sitting up. “Let’s go, I want to go with you.”

“Okay, great,” Johnny says carefully, placing his phone back on the nightstand. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Kun laughs, nervous excitement thrumming through his body.

“I don’t know,” Johnny laughs, mussing at his hair.

Kun grabs Johnny’s hand from where it is fussing away at his soft brown strands, giving him a reassuring squeeze with a confidence he doesn’t actually feel himself. But that’s okay for now, because Johnny leans in close, kissing his ear and Kun giggles, before drawing Johnny back down with him. They can figure it all out together later.

Johnny does end up taking his phone call outside of the bedroom on account of Kun being too distracting with his wandering fingers. Kun’s left feeling a little high and dry, alone in Johnny’s huge fucking bed. So, he decides to take a cold shower and get ready for the day. 

When he returns to the bedroom after a quick freshening up, all wrapped up in the softest towels he’s ever had the pleasure of rubbing all over his body, he’s fully prepared to go for another nap when movement outside the window catches his eye— it’s Johnny outside on the patio.

He is on the phone and, judging from the hard clench of his jaw and the annoyed squint of his eyes, he is not having a good conversation. He paces back and forth, disappearing and reappearing every handful of seconds, his frown deepening each time. Kun decides that he needs to find out how to get out there to be with him as soon as possible. He finds his clothes on the floor right where he discarded them last night and slides into his jeans, not even bothering with underwear, and tugs his sweatshirt over his head.

He makes his way to the living room, spotting the opened French doors to what must be a wrap-around deck. He quickly grabs his sneakers and steps into them once he’s outside. The wooden deck is sandy, which is unsurprising considering the grassy not quite hills surrounding the cottage as far as his eyes can see. He rounds a corner and finds Johnny sitting on a wooden lounge set, phone discarded next to a rumpled pack of cigs and a well-worn booklet laid out on the table in front of him. He walks over, passing a jacuzzi on his way.

“You don’t have a pool?” Kun jokes, brushing off a few stray leaves off the closed jacuzzi cover.

Johnny startles at the sound of his voice, but he smiles when Kun approaches him. “No, but I’m pretty sure there’s a private beach somewhere around there, just beyond the grass,” he says a little dazedly, pointing towards a spot in the distance. “It’s a little too cold for a swim though don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Kun laughs, gingerly taking a seat next to Johnny, helping his feet up when he turns to throw his long, long legs across Kun’s lap. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is peachy keen now you’re here,” Johnny says, yelping when Kun squeezes his leg. Kun can’t help but press a quick kiss to Johnny’s cold lips in apology.

“You do know that you can tell me about your work problems? I mean— if you’d like?” Kun starts, searching Johnny’s eyes. “I might not understand what you’re going through, but I want to help if I can.”

Johnny swallows, shrugging as he looks away. “My manager called. This meeting for the movie I’m starting when I get back to LA is being moved up. The team asked if I could come earlier, but I was supposed to start on Friday. They want to meet on Wednesday, but that’s when I fly back.”

“They can’t make you go if it’s in your contract, though, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“What is?”

“I don’t like disappointing people, I guess,” Johnny admits before letting out a shuddering breath.

The confession makes Kun pause, thinking over his next words carefully. “Do you want to go back earlier?”

“I really, really do not want to go before I absolutely have to,” Johnny says, his mouth twisting wryly. “These next few days are our last together before I have to go back for at least a month, if not more.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand that it’s not exactly easy for you to reschedule if you’re halfway across the world. They have to understand, and your contract is final,” Kun considers, remembering that Johnny’s been excited to work on an action movie again. “But you’re still looking forward to shooting this one, right?”

“I was,” Johnny says, before frowning. “I mean, I still am, but I’m not going to be here. With you.”

“The time difference is pretty rough.” Kun scowls, before catching himself. He shouldn’t make it harder for Johnny to leave.

“Sixteen hours,” Johnny offers.

“Then we’d better make our last days count, no? We’ll figure it out,” he says, hoping that his own disappointment doesn’t bleed into his voice, hoping that Johnny isn’t dissuaded in any way from doing what he loves. Johnny only gives him a weak smile.

“Is that the script for next week?” Kun asks, eyeing the clearly well-read and beat up bundle on the table.”

“Yes,” Johnny says, grabbing the script off the table, nervously fingering the pages. “I need to know this by Friday.”

“Would you like me to take you through your lines?” Kun has absolutely no experience with reading scripts, but he figures it must be somewhat similar to quizzing students for their exams. Not to toot his own horn, but he is very good at quizzing people, having had much practice between his own years of school, university, and now helping the teens whenever they have tests coming up. But never Renjun, he’s already too studious on his very own.

Johnny perks up, sitting up straight. “Would you? It’s all talk, talk, talk.”

“Hand it over. This is that action movie, right? Basic plot?”

Johnny passes him the booklet. “I'm a difficult but brilliant junior officer who, in about twenty minutes, will save the world from nuclear disaster.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less of you,” Kun says, leafing through the pages, amazed at the number of notes and scribbles written in between the lines. “Where should I start?”

“Page eighty-eight, from the top.”

“Message from command. Would you like them to send in the HKs?” Kun reads out. He looks up inquisitively at Johnny, a little uncertain about his English pronunciation. Johnny gives him a reassuring smile and Kun knows then that it really doesn’t matter if he makes a fool out of himself in front of him. Johnny would never laugh at him.

Kun watches Johnny settle into his role in rapt attention, impressed at the way his entire demeanour changes: his expression going all severe as his shoulders tense in a harsh line. “No, turn over 4 TR’s and tell them we need radar feedback before the KFT’s return at 19 hundred. Then inform the Pentagon that we’ll be needing black star cover from ten hundred through twelve fifteen— and don’t you dare say one word about how many mistakes I made in that speech, or I’ll throw a rock at you.”

“Very well, captain. I’ll pass that on straightaway,” Kun says, giving him a mock salute.

“Thank you.” Johnny nods severely before breaking character. “How many mistakes did I make?”

“Eleven.”

“Damn,” Johnny says, straightening up again. “And Wainwright...”

“Cartwright.”

“Cartwright, Wainwright, whatever your name is— I promised little Jimmy I’d be home for his birthday. Could you get a message through that I may be a little late?”

“Certainly. And little Johnny?”

“My son’s name is Johnny?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yup,” Kun grins, popping his P.

Johnny barks out a laugh. “Huh... Well, get a message through to him too.”

“On it.”

“What do you think?” Johnny asks, the hitch in his voice uncertain.

Kun blinks, thinking over the basic plot in his head and the lines he barely understood. “Gripping. I don’t often watch action movies, but this one sounds gripping.”

“You think I should do something else instead?” Johnny asks, biting worriedly at his lip.

“I’m sure you’d be great in anything if you set your mind to it. You haven’t given me any reason to think so otherwise. I don’t know, you’re, uh, kindofamazing,” Kun rushes out before he has the chance to feel stupid about everything that comes out of his mouth and his general existence.

Johnny blinks at him, once, then twice, his eyes going impossibly round before a soft pink blush blotches across his cheeks. He looks away and Kun follows his line of sight. They watch the tall grass dance in the wind without a worry. Seeing them sway and hearing them rustle along with the breeze, Kun is reminded that it’s chilly out, the cold autumn wind biting at his vulnerable freshly showered skin.

He rubs his palms together, warming them up as best as he can before cupping Johnny’s ruddy cheeks in his hands, gently turning his head so the other is facing him. Johnny goes easily and Kun’s heart shakes. Johnny always goes wherever he needs him, and for that Kun reaches over to kiss him tenderly, his cold lips tingling when he meets Johnny’s even colder ones.

Johnny is the first to break their kiss, nuzzling his face into Kun’s palms with twinkling eyes. “Sometimes it's hard, this job, you know? It’s hard to find someone you can be yourself with.”

“I’m here,” Kun says, thumbing at the dark skin of Johnny’s under eyes.  

“Yeah, you are.” Johnny breathes out and then stands up with a smile, pulling Kun up with him in a swift move, holding him close. “C’mon let’s figure out breakfast.”

Kun barely has time to react as Johnny carries him back inside, his startled yelp ringing in the wind alongside Johnny’s bright laughter.   

Chapter Text

Kun thinks it’s nothing less than a small miracle that Johnny gets him to his NAK meeting on time, considering the mess that was breakfast. He doesn’t know why he was so surprised at Johnny’s complete lack of culinary skills, what with his busy schedule and all, but you’d think that the guy would at least admit to not being able to cook before getting pancake batter on the ceiling? He seemed to know what he was doing when Kun found him in the kitchen after he’d changed into a fresh set of clothing (sourced together by Johnny), right before he went on his pancake rampage. But maybe he was faking his culinary knowledge the entire time. He is a professional actor after all.

Instead of eating a much-needed breakfast, there’d been a haphazard cleanup and a lot of shouting as batter trickled from the ceiling, followed by sticky fingers roaming over freshly showered skin where they really, really shouldn’t. The mad rush back into the city before they both missed their appointments had been inevitable after that.

Kun had offered to drive them back so Johnny could rest up a bit more. (He suspected that he must’ve slept no more than a few hours.) But Johnny had furiously declined and manhandled him into the passenger’s seat with a decisive nod. To be honest, Kun had let him do it without much of a struggle because 1) he likes being manhandled and 2) this way he could make googly eyes at Johnny from the passenger’s seat. He’d fallen asleep when Johnny brought him over and he sure as shit wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

It had been a nice drive. Johnny had shown him how to connect his phone to the car Bluetooth and they’d listened to his ‘chill car vibes’ playlist while comparing childhood songs and favourite artists. (They both like Coldplay, but Kun admitting that he didn’t grow up listening to Sisqo – Thong Song had almost caused Johnny to crash the car.)

He always marvels at how nice it is to just be with Johnny and bask in his presence. But when the city outskirts roll behind them far too soon and the Seoul skyscrapers engulf them bit by bit, it forces him back into the real world. Kun can honestly say that he has been on countless drives for countless of hours, but those have never been quite like this. Not even with his ex of four years. Go figure.

Kun almost doesn’t want to leave the car when Johnny pulls up to his destination, the dreadful community centre building coming into view as he unfastens his seatbelt with a sigh. But Johnny is right there with him and lets out a groan of his own.

“I guess we’re here,” Kun says, disconnecting his phone from Johnny’s car. He knows he has to hurry it up before anyone sees them parked right in front of the entrance of the community centre, but he seriously doesn’t want to leave Johnny. Not just yet.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Johnny echoes, making no move to drive off to his world of fittings and fame. Instead, Kun watches on in rapt attention as Johnny takes his time to unbuckle his seat belt, then carefully adjust his rear-view mirror, before he leans over the console into his space.

Johnny’s lips are soft against Kun’s own as he kisses him slowly, softly, as if they shouldn’t be worried about being seen. He lifts his hands to Johnny’s chest to half-heartedly push him away,  but Johnny’s tongue slides against his own and Kun thinks fuck it, why shouldn’t they make out in public.

Kun, of course, does know why they shouldn’t make out in public, especially not in front of the fucking neighbourhood community centre AKA gossip central. So he pulls back reluctantly, only moving away just enough to watch Johnny’s eyes flutter open in confusion, his spit-stained lips glossy in the brightness of the morning light.

“I need to go,” Kun says, whispering the words against Johnny’s mouth.

But Johnny only blinks before leaning in close again, and Kun can feel his smile blossom against his own as Johnny’s fingers curl around the back of his neck to pull him in closer again. “Just a little more.”

In all fairness, Kun doesn’t want to go either especially with the way Johnny’s soft moans alongside his steady hands at the base of his neck are messing with his mind, but damn it he has shit to do today. So he bites.

“I said I need to go.” Kun laughs at the startled ‘ouch’ Johnny lets out, very carefully ignoring the way Johnny’s glaring at him as he buckles himself back in behind the driver’s seat. He rolls his eyes and quickly gets out of the car before he changes his mind and actually decides to ditch the NAK meeting for a make-out sesh in the car.

It’s deceptively sunny outside, Kun thinks as he squints against the sun and leans forward from where he’s standing on the curb in front of the community centre, shifting from one foot to the other as he waits for Johnny to lower the car window. He shivers, a little bit from nerves and a little bit from the cold breeze creeping into the shirt he borrowed while he eyes their surroundings. Luckily, there’s still no one around.

“You’re probably going to be done before I am,” Johnny says, eyes crinkling into a shy smile over the sunglasses he's just now perched low on his nose, handing Kun his leather jacket through the window. “I shouldn’t have called you over so suddenly last night. You didn’t even get to bring a coat.”

“What about you?” Kun asks, but he’s already sliding on the jacket, revelling in the smell of Johnny’s cologne and the comfort of his lingering body warmth. He pulls the soft and supple black leather closer, wrapping himself into the over-sized article to protect him from the harsh wind biting against his wide collar.

“Don’t worry about me,” Johnny says, his eyes dancing down and up Kun’s body as he appraises his outfit with a sharp gaze and a silly smile that makes Kun want to preen and run away in equal measures. “You’re running errands after this, right? Keep it, it’ll be cold. I can steal a coat from my stylist.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He inches closer to the open window and Johnny’s so close, he only has to tilt his head down to kiss him on his pouty mouth and he knows its a bad idea but Johnny kissed him earlier in the car so he won’t hate him if he does it too, right?

His lips brush against Johnny’s for a truly chaste meeting. Honestly, Kun’s not entirely sure he can even call it a kiss, but he still bounces away from the car with a nervous leap, his heartbeat thumping in his throat as he tries his best not to stammer. “Good luck today.”

“You too.” Johnny blinks dazedly, his mouth agape and eyelashes fluttering slightly. He pushes his sunglasses up, hiding a smile behind his fist. “Don’t forget to text me!”

Kun waves without looking back (before he actually does skip the entire meeting), running into the neighbourhood community centre feeling better than ever at the prospect of stale cookies, lukewarm coffee, and petty neighbourhood drama.

He has five minutes to go before his meeting starts when he finally walks into the meeting room slash arts classroom the Neighbourhood Association Key-committee shares with the local art hobbyists of all ages. He’s usually one of the first members present, preferring to arrive half an hour early to help with setting up the meeting room, lest one of the more senior members break their hip trying to move the tables and chairs into a respectable U-formation. Kun would feel awful if someone got injured. But more importantly, he loves one-upping Mrs Kim, the soccer mom from a few streets over who can’t come early because she has to drive her demon children to their clarinet lessons, tennis meets, and soccer practices.

Yes, Kun has personal beef with a helicopter mom. It has less to do with her mediocre baking skills and atrociously unthoughtful suggestions that always exceed the NAK-budget, and more so with her unsuccessful attempts at masking her subtle homophobia. The joy he gets at seeing her purse her ugly fuchsia stained lips every time one of his suggestions gets passed through is unrivalled. He considers those moments sacred.

He receives a few curious glances from a couple of members, no doubt because of his tardiness, as he calls out a soft ‘hello’ to the group. He ignores the looks in favour of grabbing a cup of honest to god awful coffee (though to be fair all coffee is mediocre at best once you’ve had Ten’s special blend) and a stale croissant. Adjusting his too-wide collar for the millionth time, he can’t help but lament over the fact that he’s actually at the meeting going commando, wearing one of Johnny’s (satin!) button-up pyjama shirts that have got to be so expensive and high-end it passes as casual wear by the luxurious way it clings to his frame alone.

He should’ve asked Johnny to drive him home so he could change, but he can’t say that he actually minds, though. Not when he gets a lung full of Johnny’s scent with every little movement he makes. Not when it makes him feel as if Johnny’s right here with him. 

Armed with caffeine and (finally) some solid food in his stomach, he takes his usual place near the front of the room sandwiched between his NAK-besties: Mr Lee the senior butcher of the neighbourhood on his left, and Chenle’s mother to his right.

“Is that a new coat, dear? I didn’t take you for a biker type,” Mrs Zhong says when Kun slides into the creaky wooden chair next to her. She smiles at him in that same sweet way Chenle smiles when he is delighted, patting at his leather jacket. “You look stylish. I like it.”

“Thank you.” Kun ducks to kiss her on the cheek, avoiding her sunny but deceptively sharp eyes. “I’m only borrowing it, though.”

“Oh?” Mrs Zhong tilts her head, running her fingers along the supple leather. “It does look a little bit… extravagant for your normal tastes. Is it Ten’s?”

“Ah, ha-ha. No.” Kun fights off the urge to pluck her hands off him, only slightly wincing at Mrs Zhong’s careful wording even though she’s not wrong. Honestly, no one in their friend group could ever afford a piece of clothing this nice. Not even Ten.

“You know, Chenle’s told me something very interesting,” Mrs Zhong starts, her voice dropping to a low whisper as she scoots closer and Kun knows exactly where she's going by the look in her eyes.

“He tells me that you might be seeing someone. Now, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” she says firmly, reaching out with her soft hands to squeeze his own with a fond smile before Kun has the chance to rebut the claim. “But if it is true, and this Tom Ford coat is his, then he has great taste in fashion and men.”

“I don’t know what to do with this information.” Kun laughs nervously, hoping his non-denial and non-confirmation will speak for itself. He doesn’t have the strength to deflect her kindness.

Mrs Zhong giggles and squeezes his arm with her perfectly manicured hands. “You don’t have to do anything, my dear. Just be happy.”

Kun gives her a weak smile. He thankfully doesn’t have to reply, because the NAK president, Professor Jung, starts the meeting before their conversation can stray further into territories he can’t speak about.

Kun only has half the mind to pay attention, his stomach flip-flopping with every minute that passes at the prospect of seeing Johnny again. It is only when the door opens a dozen or so minutes into the meeting and a red-faced Ms Kim rushes in that he can think of something else. His arch-nemesis tries to hide her obvious panting as she takes the only open seat right across from Kun while apologizing profusely and further disrupting the meeting. She should’ve just shut up and sat down.

Kun has a hard time hiding his smirk, only pressing his lips together when Mr Lee nudges him in the stomach. The heavy-handed butcher coughs, turning his face to Kun, hiding his own grin behind his hand. He hates her too. Kun almost bursts out into laughter at Mr Lee’s scrunched up face. But Ms Zhong whispers a question at him and Kun dutifully turns his attention back to the meeting at hand. They’ll have time to talk shit during the break.

***

Kun loves his neighbourhood and the little community they’ve built here. Their little piece of Seoul is full of life, despite skirting right on the edge of even being considered part of the metropolitan city. The area is full of people from all walks of life: you’ve got your sprightly students, suburban families, a subgroup of surprisingly fit elderly people, and young professionals bringing warmth and excitement to the slightly hilly streets lined with old houses and renovated shops.

When Sicheng told him that he was going to move to South Korea after graduation to pursue a career in dancing, Kun had been so proud he’d almost thrown up from crying so hard. Sicheng had been offered a position within a well-respected dance company that also owned a small academy, and he’d get the chance to both teach his craft and perform. It was the job of Sicheng’s dreams and Kun had watched him work incredibly hard, day in and day out, to achieve it. Kun had never known this type of passion, had never seen someone want something so bad that it was nearly all-consuming, until he met Sicheng.

He would always wait for the group chat to buzz with another video of Sicheng’s choreographies, or the pictures that Doyoung would send whenever he got the chance to watch Sicheng perform. Watching Sicheng achieve his dreams had ignited something in him, something he’d buried away deep in the back of his mind. Back then, he didn’t have the guts to dig deep and get it out, not when he was just starting a high-paying job at an accountancy firm and things were starting to get serious with his boyfriend. So he would watch Sicheng’s videos in the dead of night only when his boyfriend was fast asleep next to him and that had been enough.

It changed when Doyoung had called him one evening, his gentle voice deceptively calm as he explained that Sicheng was in the hospital awaiting surgery and wouldn’t be released any time soon. That the doctors told him in hushed corridors that Sicheng might never dance again. That it was really, really bad. That it would be good if they could come over to see him.  

It had happened during one of Sicheng’s performances, barely half a year into his new career. One moment he was soaring across the stage, and in the next, he had a fractured spine. He would never be able to perform on the same level again and that was that.

Kun had wanted to come. He really, genuinely did. But his boyfriend said that he couldn’t drop his life over something like this. That he had to stay in Beijing, because he had his own life to worry about. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because why would Sicheng want to see him when he had his other friends to be there for him already? What else could he possibly have offered Sicheng that his closest friends couldn’t?

It’s a little bit hazy now, but Kun remembers that he had disagreed. He remembers fighting over flying out to Seoul. He remembers explaining that Sicheng was his best friend and that he had to be there for him. He remembers that his boyfriend had scoffed and asked him how he could call himself Sicheng’s best friend when he hadn’t even taken the time to see him perform with his new company, when he hadn’t even taken the time to see him do what he loved in the first place. But hadn't his boyfriend been the one who told Kun to prioritize his own career right now, so he could meet Sicheng as an equal? Wasn't he the one who had convinced Kun that he had all the time in the world to visit Sicheng and Doyoung later? Or did Kun really not care about his friends after all?

Kun remembers the shame that threatened to drip down his cheeks and the numbness in his chest at the realization that his boyfriend had been right. He hadn’t been there for Sicheng in the first place and it wouldn’t matter if he were to fly out that day or even next month— he wasn’t the friend that Sicheng needed, anyway, so he should wait for now. And that was that, too.

So he’d waited at first and continued his usual routine: wake up, make breakfast and lunch for two, clean up and then go to work. Then he’d lie in bed awake, his back aching, body feeling bruised and sore as he watched the notification count on his Messages app go up and up as his boyfriend’s arm around his waist seemed to grip him tighter and tighter.

It was a few weeks later, when his boyfriend was on a business trip, that Kun had finally gone to visit Sicheng. He had waited at first— he’d insisted on that later on after he’d come back to Beijing from Seoul. But Sicheng was still in the hospital at the time, looking frail and pale against the painfully white sheets. He’d started crying the minute he walked in, and Kun had rushed over to hold him close.

He still remembers the wetness of Sicheng’s tears seeping into his shirt, the sickly smell of hospital-grade sanitiser, and the way that every fibre of his being trembled with self-hatred and shame.

He spent most of his time in Seoul running around with Doyoung, looking for a place for Ten and Sicheng to live together. He couldn’t face Ten and he sure as shit couldn’t face Sicheng. All he’d wanted was to crawl back to the safety of Beijing. But first, he had to make sure that Sicheng and Ten would be okay.

Their new house had to be close enough to a rehabilitation centre for the months of physical therapy Sicheng would have to undergo before he could even think of dancing again, but cheap enough for them to be able to afford it on Ten’s monthly stipend. Ten had already decided that he wouldn’t go back to working full-time before Sicheng regained some of his mobility, so they had to make do with dipping into the money from his trust fund.

That’s how they found the little neighbourhood up north from the Han river. There had been a fully furnished two-bedroom apartment with a vacancy on the ground floor, well within their budget and there were plenty of university hospitals nearby for rehabilitation. Ten and Sicheng had settled in without a problem, and before he knew it Kun had been back in Beijing again, fighting back tears as his boyfriend berated him for going off to Seoul.

Their first contact with the neighbourhood had been unfortunate, born out of necessity and desperation, scarred by broken dreams. But Sicheng had fought through months of physical therapy and hardships, returning to the academy to teach, and Ten had fallen in love with the high stakes of the restaurant industry while he worked part-time at a chic café. It wasn’t long before Doyoung had saved up enough money from his first job as a bookkeeper at a nightclub to pay the deposit on a small but cosy studio apartment. Soon enough, he’d moved into the same neighbourhood, living only a few streets away from Ten and Sicheng’s first apartment.

They had all grown so much, but Kun had been impossibly stuck in Beijing. The routine of his work-life and the regular communications with his friends were probably the only reasons why he hadn’t completely lost his mind during that time. It wasn’t until his breakup that he had seen where it had all gone wrong. It wasn’t until he’d gotten a taste of living alongside his friends in these forgiving streets that he felt like he could be so much more, that he felt that he might always have been capable of doing more.

It’s moments like this that it really hits him, when he’s walking along the market street, stopping by a few stalls to catch up with the aunties and uncles, dodging a gaggle of children running around playing tag, that he has come a long way from being that person he used to be. That things can only get better for him as he passes by the neighbourhood park and Mrs Liu from down the street beckons him closer with a smile for a little chat. He realizes when his phone chimes and he has to smile at a text message from his good friend Mr Lee, confirming the order for a staggering amount of meat to be delivered right to his doorstep for tomorrow’s party, followed by a single thumbs-up emoji, that he’s in a good place right now.

With a lighter step and an even lighter heart, Kun runs the rest of his errands while waiting for a message from a certain movie star.

Johnny (1.34 PM)

I’m done, send me your location. I’ll come and pick you up. 😊

***

It’s when Johnny drives them to a nondescript street in downtown Seoul, to an equally nondescript building, down to a gated underground parking area that he’s starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s in way over his head.

Johnny parks the SUV with skilful ease in the deserted lot, taking off his sunglasses and pocketing them in his newly acquired grey coat with a smile. “You ready?”

“I think so.” Kun fidgets in his seat, eyeing the dozen or so cars around them with apprehension, their makes ranging from Tesla to Bugatti and even a shiny black Roll’s Royce. He tries to picture his own second-hand (but very sensible) Hyundai among these cars that cost more than his own damn house. Kun swallows. “Is there, uh, anything I should know or anything I shouldn’t do?”  

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” Johnny says, smiling his usual dopey smile that would normally make Kun feel much better, but the last time he went on an actual date with someone he liked this much was years ago and now he’s going on a secret date with a fucking movie star. Jesus Christ, why does he do these things to himself.

His mind wanders away into thoughts of why he shouldn’t be doing stupid shit like this, cooking up all kinds of fun reasons why this will all end up in tears for him because why the hell does he even think that he'd ever fit in. But Johnny pulls him out of it with nothing more than a sweet touch of his thumb across his cheek. “We’ll be fine, okay?”

“Okay,” Kun manages to say through the lump in his throat, leaning into Johnny’s caress.

Johnny’s fingers tangle through the hairs curling around Kun’s ear, his touch feather-soft. “People are going to be looking, so if it gets even a little bit too much, tell me and we’ll leave, alright?”

Kun nods, not trusting his voice to keep down his jitters. But he really does not want to disappoint Johnny, doesn’t want to worry him any further, so he presses a kiss into the palm of Johnny’s hand, gathers all his courage, and gets out of the car.

Johnny follows him quickly, locking the car and coming around to stand next to him in a few easy strides, and Kun is once again reminded of the fact that there’s so much he still has to learn about Johnny. From the way he steps out of his car, to the way he might treat the waitstaff or even the food that he likes to order - Kun realizes that he doesn’t know anything yet. But from the gentle way that Johnny takes him by the elbow, carefully walking them to the single elevator in the parking lot, Kun knows that he’ll have all the time in the world to know everything there is to know about Johnny Suh.

Kun presses the button for the elevator and the doors immediately slide open to reveal a luxurious interior, full of wooden panels and impeccably clean mirrors. He notes that there are no buttons inside, not even a panic button, as they step inside which has got to be some kind of fire-department code violation, but Johnny seems unconcerned enough. Maybe it’s a rich people thing, Kun thinks as he tries to place the soft music playing from speakers he can’t see (Debussy perhaps?) when Johnny presses him against the mirrored wall and kisses him breathless.

Johnny is warm. Kun doesn’t know why that’s the first thing that comes to his mind as the Violin Sonata swells in the background, but he feels impossibly warm against him and he has to shut his eyes when Johnny cradles his cheek and tips his head back and up against the cool mirror to deepen their kiss. And all Kun can do is tangle his fingers in the thick fabric of Johnny’s coat and hang on for the ride.

“I just wanted to kiss you,” Johnny explains when he finally finishes his mission of making Kun a flustered mess, and steps away to casually lean against the opposite wall. “How are you feeling now?”

Oh.

“Excited,” Kun says, his eyes transfixed on the way Johnny’s rubbing absently at his red lips. He clears his throat before continuing, “and a little bit nervous, but mostly excited to be with you.”

Johnny smiles at him, and he is so infuriatingly sweet with his red lips and mussed hair and warm eyes and fuck just like that the last remnants of anxiety lingering at the back of Kun’s mind melts away like snow in the sun.

The elevator doors slide open without a sound, then, and Kun’s eyes widen. “I thought you said this place was low-key.”

“It is,” Johnny says breezily, escorting him to the impeccably dressed maître d' waiting at a set of intricately carved wooden doors, opened to reveal a grand dining hall. “There’s no dress code or anything.”

“Oh, so I can get in wearing your pyjamas in a ‘low-key’ restaurant where one, two.. five chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling?” Kun whispers lowly, trying to get it all out before the maître d’ can hear them but Johnny only laughs. That motherfucker.

“It’s not like it's real crystal, probably, and you look great.”

“They’re pyjamas.”

“It’s sexy,” Johnny quips.

“Shut up,” Kun hisses.

“Mr. Suh, a table for two this time?” The maître d' greets them with a polite smile, nodding at them both with a slight tilt of his head, his uniform outfit looking more expensive than Kun's best suit. He seriously feels like he’s in some kind of movie. Or in a fever dream.

“Yes, thank you,” Johnny says, giving Kun’s elbow a slight squeeze, moving his hand to rest low on his back.

“Certainly,” the maître d' answers, leading them to an intimate table near the back of the grand dining hall. “Your waiter will take your orders shortly.”

“Thanks, Sungmin!” Johnny beams, and the maître d' –Sungmin, apparently– glances around once, before shooting them a small thumbs up.

Kun bites back a smile at the exchange as he takes off his (Johnny’s) coat and drapes it across the back of his chair. “Do you come here often, then?”

“Yeah, I usually have my dinner meetings here, unless whoever I’m meeting with has made other arrangements,” Johnny says, shrugging out of his own coat. “It’s nice here and the food is good.”

Now that they’re settled in, Kun is painfully aware of the furtive glances coming their way. He hums a reply, rubbing at his neck. It isn’t necessarily intrusive or even all that noticeable, but the hushed whispers and excited murmurs are just loud enough for Kun to hear mentions of “Johnny Suh” all around him. He shakes away the sounds, deciding to focus on what’s in front of him. He grabs the sleek leather menu in front of him, thumbing at the thick parchment as he flips through the pages. “What should I order? There are so many things to choose from and I don’t even know what half of these are.”

“What?” Johnny blinks, his eyes briefly focusing on Kun’s own before darting away.

Kun repeats the question, but Johnny’s mind has wandered off again by the looks of his hooded eyes. “You’re still not paying attention, are you?”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Johnny murmurs, his voice a little breathless and tinged with a tone that’s unmistakably...

“Are you seriously turned on right now?” Kun asks, his voice low and very much distressed.

“Uh, yeah.”

“What is it?” Kun follows Johnny’s glazed over eyes down to his own neckline. The top buttons of his shirt have come undone. “The shirt?”

Johnny nods, not even looking up.

“It’s just a simple button-up?” Kun mumbles, tipping his head in confusion. “It’s not very flattering, honestly. It is too big at the shoulders and it keeps sliding off. I feel like I’m swimming in the fabric.”

Johnny coughs, hiding his expression behind a fist. “Yeah.”

“And you’re turned on because your shirt is too big on me?” Kun snorts, slowly buttoning his shirt again as he ignores the soft whine of protest coming from Johnny’s side. “Honestly, Johnny, you’re not very original. You should get a grip.”

Johnny barks out a laugh, running a perfect hand through his perfect hair and a few people turn to look at the sound. But Kun’s already distracted from their stares through the way Johnny’s earrings catches the light from the (quite possibly) crystal chandeliers hanging above them, dangling enticingly with every chuckle. “I’m but a simple man.”

“Okay, Simple Man, what should I order?” Kun shakes his head and closes his menu, watching the dusty pink settle on Johnny’s cheek as he bites his tongue to stop his own laughter. He’ll trust Johnny’s taste, however simple it may be.

It’s easier than Kun expected it to be. He had been worried that they’d have nothing to talk about, that he’d discover that they have absolutely nothing in common outside of the comfort of their bedrooms. But the conversation flows easily as Johnny orders for him, emphasizing that he’s sure that Kun will like these dishes, they tease each other mercilessly in between delicious bites, and when the waiter takes away their empty plates Kun has almost forgotten everything he was anxious about.

“I think that kid over there is trying to catch your attention,” Kun says, sipping on his after-lunch cup of coffee. From where he’s sitting, he can see a teenager waving wildly in their general direction. People have been staring at them all night, but no one has tried to get Johnny’s attention this blatantly.

“You can ignore it,” Johnny says, not even turning to look, so Kun figures this type of thing happens to him all the time. It must be dead annoying. Kun nods, right when Johnny’s phone for his personal use rings from where it’s flipped down on the table.

“Wait, sorry, one second,” Johnny says sheepishly, answering the call at the table with a frown.

“Yeah?” Johnny asks apprehensively, and Kun briefly thinks that his phone number got leaked again, but then he breaks out into a huge grin. “Really? Where? Oh!”

Johnny turns around, clicking off his phone as he waves. “Mark!”

To Kun’s surprise, the kid that was flailing all about earlier rushes over in record time with a big toothy smile on his face.

“Dude! It’s so good to see you,” the kid— Mark?—says in English, exchanging an intricate handshake with Johnny. “Oh, please, don’t get up.”

“I didn’t know you had a new number, I almost didn’t answer,” Johnny says in English. He turns to Kun and continues in Korean. “Kun, this is my good friend Mark. Mark, meet my dearest Kun.”

Kun’s heart absolutely does not clench at the intimate introduction, taking Mark’s outstretched hand with a calmness he really does not feel. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mark.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too! I hope I get the chance to catch you at a later time. I kind of have to go now,” Mark grimaces, glancing at the door of the dining hall where a woman with the tightest ponytail Kun’s ever seen is looking impatiently in their direction. Mark turns to Johnny, switching to English. “I’ll probably see you tonight, yeah?”

“Totally. I’ll come find you,” Johnny says, thumping Mark on the back.

“Enjoy your lunch! See ya!” Mark calls out as he walks away, running across the grand dining hall.

Kun watches on as the stern woman reprimands the kid once he’s hopped by her side. He laughs at the sight, turning back to Johnny. “He seems nice.”

“He is,” Johnny says with a fond smile, taking a careful sip of his coffee. “You didn’t recognize him, did you?”

“No? Should I have?” Kun furrows his brows. “Wait, is he famous, too?”

Johnny hides a smirk behind his cup, but the crinkle of his eyes betrays him.

“Stop laughing!” Kun fishes out his phone from his pocket, doing a quick google search with the information at hand (Mark, famous) and google immediately auto-suggests a Mark Lee. Kun balks at the results, and Johnny doesn’t even hide his laugh this time. “It’s not funny, Johnny!”

“It is, though.”

“I can’t believe this. My housemates and I binged the Spider-Man reboot just last month. How did I not realize?” Kun gasps, scrolling through Mark’s Wikipedia page. “Oh my god, I met Spider-Man.”

“In your defence, he does wear a mask,” Johnny offers, but Kun isn’t really paying attention to him.

“Oh my god, Spider-Man. Hendery is going to kill me if he finds out—he collects the comics, have I told you that already?”

“Why does Mark get this big of a reaction.” Johnny pouts, his cup of coffee rattling as he puts it down on the saucer with a little more force than strictly necessary.

“Are you really going to be jealous over that? It’s not you, it’s me,” Kun laughs, putting away his phone before remembering something that Mark (Spider-Man!!!) had mentioned. “So, what’s tonight?”

“Oh, yeah,” Johnny sighs out, his fingers drawing circles on the thick linen tablecloth. He doesn't look up. “It’s just an event with an after-party kind of situation. It’ll be fine now that I know that there’s going to be at least one fun person around.”

“That’s nice,” Kun muses. Johnny doesn’t seem to want to talk about it from the sound of it, so he hunts for a different subject to talk about. He looks around, kind of disturbed at the way that people are still looking. Some are at least discreet about it, but others are straight-up staring them down. And this was supposed to be low-key. Johnny must put up with a lot of bullshit.

“Hey,” Johnny says, suddenly and Kun finds him leaning closer, his eyes searching Kun's own. “Are you doing okay? We can leave if you want?”

“No, it’s just— I thought that it must be hard for you," Kun whispers, furrowing his brows. “And I’m kind of thinking that I want to kiss you.”

Johnny's eyes widen and he chews at his plump bottom lip. “I kind of want to kiss you, too.”

“You know,” Kun starts, bumping his fist against Johnny’s on the table. “There are some merits to this.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well,” Kun says, voice low, forcing Johnny to lean in even closer, their foreheads are almost touching. “I could describe to you in painful detail how I can feel the bruises you left on my hips this morning throb if I lean back, or how the soft fabric of your shirt feels so good against my skin, and you can’t do anything about it right now. Nothing at all.”

Johnny’s breath stutters on a sharp exhale, his gaze flittering down to his nape, to his mouth, back down to his shirt and then finally settling on Kun’s eyes. “I hate you so much right now.”

Kun smirks. “Payback’s a bitch, Johnny. I told you this morning that you were going to regret not letting me sleep.”

“You’re evil. So fucking evil.”

“You look a little flushed, should I go ask for some water?”

“I want you to remember this moment, Kun. Remember this moment and live in fear for what I’ll do to you.”

“One more thing,” Kun says, watching Johnny’s tongue dart out to wet his reddened bottom lip. “I decided not to wear those boxers you gave me this morning, they were a little too big on me.”

“You’re not wearing underwear,” Johnny grumbles. 

“I’m not wearing underwear.”

Johnny goes silent at the confession, his eyes closing minutely before he purses his lips. Kun wonders if he went too far, but Johnny’s fingers reach out to circle around his wrist, his thumb rubbing slow circles at his pulse point. Johnny chuckles, his honey-brown eyes fluttering open to glow in the warm light. “Thank you for distracting me, and for making me laugh. For all of it.”

“It’s nothing.” Kun shrugs, wondering if Johnny can feel the way his heart is racing, wondering if Johnny knows that he'd do about anything to make him smile. 

But Johnny shakes his head at Kun's dismissal, fingers tremble atop Kun's own. “It’s not nothing. No matter what our future will look like – tomorrow, next week, or next month. This isn’t nothing for me.”

“Can we go? I need to make out with you right now,” Kun rushes out on a shuddering exhale.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Johnny answers, and they quickly make their way to the elevator, coats in hand and a little breathless.

“What about the bill?” Kun asks, his sneakers squeaking against the marbled floor.

“Already covered.” Johnny punches the button impatiently but calmly walks them inside once it arrives.

Kun is on him the second the doors close, and Johnny’s hands pull him in impossibly close. “We need to hurry up if you’re going to make it to your event on time,” he says in between kisses, biting hard at Johnny’s lip before soothing it with his tongue.

Johnny groans, the sound rumbling somewhere deep in Kun’s chest, and his fingers press into a bruise settled low on Kun’s hip.

Later on, Kun will adamantly deny that they made a run for the car.

***

Kun almost has to crawl up the stone stairs to his front door, tired after his full day of meetings, grocery shopping, secret make-outs with Johnny and then a whole other array of errands after their date. He punches in the code for the front door, surprised when it catches on something on the other side. He has to squeeze himself through the small opening to get inside, and what greets him at the other end almost has him backing out of the door again. 

He notices the shoes first, strewn about his normally (semi-)perfectly organized hallway. Then he hears the bickering accompanied by a distinct undertone of idle chatter, before the tell-take waft of fried take-out, beer and soju hits his nose. 

"Scoot over."

"Pass me the remote control."

"No, it’s almost starting."

"Where did the popcorn go."

“Dejun, grab me a soda if you’re going to the kitchen?”

"It's starting!"

“No, it’s not.”

"What are you all doing here," Kun says, finding Ten, Sicheng, Yuta, Doyoung and his three housemates in the living room.  

"We're watching the Seoul Golden Film Awards," Ten says through a mouthful of popcorn, his cheeks bulging. "Red carpet starts any minute now."

He shucks off his coat and returns to the hallway, bowing down to rearrange everyone's shoes so the door isn't obstructed. You know, in case of fire. You never know what's might happen when his friends are gathered in one place. "Alright, okay, and everyone's watching here instead of at their own homes because?"

"It's called a viewing party, we brought soju and chicken," Hendery beams at him with a slight slur, sitting way too close to the television as he downs a mug full of soju. "Join us." 

Kun can't help but laugh at Hendery's grimace nor can he hide his smile when he sees Ningning quickly refilling the cup. Hendery is even funnier when he is drunk. "I'm good, I have to go over some numbers."

"You sure? John Suh is nominated for like three categories. Just sayin'," Ten says, crossing his legs on the couch with a secret smirk. 

"There is no way Kun knows who that is,” Doyoung calls out from where he's commandeered the other couch for himself and Yuta, who is lying across his lap with a sunny smile.

"Actually, I watched some of his stuff recently," Kun retorts, recalling the handful of movies he watched over the past few days while the Antonov wasn't busy and no one was around. (So, pretty much all the time.) "Ten sent me a list of movies of his to watch."

"Wow, that's a first," Doyoung says, squinting at him from the couch.

"I liked him in that one spy movie," Yuta muses, sitting up to take a swig from his beer.

"Born to Kill? That one was awesome!" Dejun shouts, definitely already a few cups in, as he walks into the living room with his arms full of soda cans and bottles of soju.

"So, you're joining us?" Sicheng asks before stuffing his mouth with a frighteningly large piece of honey-butter chicken.

Resistance is futile at this point. (And he really needs to see Johnny, immediately.) "I'll come down in a sec."

"Hurry! The red carpet is starting any time now,” Ten shouts loud enough for him to hear as he rushes up the stairs.

Kun thinks over Johnny's expression at lunch as he changes into his own clothes, carefully hanging Johnny's leather jacket in his closet. He thinks about Johnny not wanting to talk about the awards show while he organizes the new leaflets on the End Of Year Fair he got from the NAK meeting. Isn't this sort of thing something Johnny should've told him about? Or should Kun push him more to talk about his work life? He doesn't want to force Johnny into doing anything he doesn't want, but he also wants to be there for him.

Kun bites his thumb, thinking about Johnny's dejected whispers and anxious voice, wondering what goes on in Johnny's big head and even bigger heart. 

Maybe he should just send him a 'good luck' text. That'd be innocent enough, right? He walks a useless circle around his room, thinking of what to send to Johnny. He decides on starting with a simple message.

Kun (6.39 PM)

Hey, how is your schedule going? (・。・; 

He waits for a few beats, before remembering that Johnny probably won't answer tonight. Not when he's got much more important things to do. Kun musses at his hair, feeling stupid as shit, but when his phone chimes a familiar tune set for a certain someone, his bones almost jump out of his body.

Johnny (6.41 PM) 

It’s nothing special. What are you up to?

Kun (6.41 PM)

The Seoul Golden Film awards are nothing special, really now Johnny?

Johnny (6.42 PM)

You’re watching? 😶

Kun (6.42 PM)

Ten's having a viewing party here without my consent.

Johnny (6.43 PM)

Classic Ten 😂

Kun (6.43 PM)

Call me when you have time? Anytime is fine.

Johnny (6.44 PM)

Okay, I will.

Kun (6.44 PM)

Good luck tonight ❤(ӦｖӦ｡)

Johnny (6.45 PM)

Thank you 😊

Kun (6.45 PM)

I'll be watching you.

Johnny (6.46 PM)

Don’t say that, God.

Kun (6.46 PM)

You can call me Kun.

Johnny (6.47 PM)

Baby, please give me a break.

Kun (6.47 PM)

Talk to you later ٩(๑´3｀๑)۶ You've got this ❤️

 Johnny (6.47 PM)

I'll call you as soon as I can 🥺

Chapter Text

Kun’s not going to lie, he kind of feels sick to his stomach from nerves, or maybe it’s from the two beers he’s had and the vanilla flavoured vodka shot Doyoung poured down his throat. His palms are a bit sweaty where they’re clutched around the half-empty bottle Sicheng had pushed into his hands not too long ago as they’re waiting for Johnny to finally walk the red carpet. (Well, Kun is specifically only waiting for Johnny.) What’s worse, he can’t even distract himself by joining in on the conversations going on around him— he only knows about a handful of the celebrities they’ve seen so far and he certainly doesn’t know enough about them to hold a conversation without sounding like he lives under a rock. Seriously who the fuck are all these people. 

So here he is constantly bouncing between getting himself another drink in the kitchen and scavenging through the snacks on the table while contemplating the scent of Johnny’s cologne he swears is still lingering around him. He’s truly going to combust on the spot if it takes any longer for the man to show up. Granted, he’s a little tipsy at the moment, so that might explain why he’s all over the place and high-strung, but in his defence, he didn’t mean to drink more than a couple of beers. Yeah, he figured he might do a shot or two for fun, but things aren’t looking too good for his liver right now from the way Yuta keeps going into the kitchen and coming back with more bottles. It’s hard to pace yourself when all your friends drink like they’re eighteenth-century sailors. Except for Yizhuo, of course. But she isn’t old enough to drink yet, though Kun rather has her drinking in the house than anywhere else. One sip of Sicheng’s beer had been enough for her to loudly denounce alcohol as unworthy of her time, though. Kun can only wish he felt the same.

There’s beer, food, and soju all over the coffee table and Hendery is already sprawled on the floor, Ningning hovering over him ominously with her sparkly tweezers in hand. Kun’s thinking he should probably also ask her to do his eyebrows next, but he can’t get a word in between the fuzzy warmth of the drinks in his belly and Ten’s buzzing next to him on the couch, vigorously gesticulating at Sicheng and Xiaojun going on and on about why the world doesn’t need more war movies or something along those lines. The actual award show hasn’t even started yet. Fuck.

“You guys do realize we’re doing this all over again tomorrow evening, right?” Kun says, watching on in mild terror and amusement as Doyoung all but crawls over Yuta on the couch to grab another beer from the table, expertly taking off the cap with his teeth. Kun can only be happy that they all stopped buying the regular capped bottles in favour of the easy-twist ones because Doyoung likes fucking around with his personal safety way too much despite their loud protests. A lot of things are banned in this house for safety reasons. Doyoung’s safety in particular. Drunk Doyoung, specifically.

“Relax, I’m bringing more goodies for tomorrow.” Doyoung smiles at him before taking a long swig, happily snuggling back next to Yuta.

Kun groans, thinking of all the cleaning he’ll have to do before tomorrow and the killer hangover he's going to have if he's not careful. “That’s not the probl—”

“Shush, here he comes!” Ten gasps out, smacking his arm and fuck it hurts but it's alright because finally, finally, Johnny walks up, his long legs, sharp smile and sleek hair styled to perfection to fit his chic black tux and all Kun can do is stare and try not to screech as he rubs at his sore arm.

He knows that Johnny is incredibly handsome, he knows it so well that even thinking about Johnny sends his mind into overdrive at any other moment. But nothing quite prepares him for the sight that is Johnny Suh in his element, live on air broadcasted directly to his living-room television set in full high definition for his retinas to see.

Johnny is, simply put, fucking breath-taking. He was made for the limelight, Kun is sure of that much as he watches in awe at the cameras flashing non-stop while people scream out Johnny’s name, but he doesn’t even flinch at the chaos. In fact, Kun is absolutely sure that he is loving every single second of it. It’s written all over his face; in the small upturn of Johnny’s pouty mouth, the slight cock of his brow, and his confident strides across the red carpet as he makes his way over to the reporter for his interview.

“His outfit is boring,” Ten says, more than a little annoyed. "A regular tux for his grand return to South Korea? How disappointing."

“Who the fuck cares. He looks so hot,” Yuta says as he manhandles Doyoung so he can sit up to see the tv better and Kun can’t help but agree.

The reporter— Kim something. Fuck, Kun forgot her name already and he's not about to ask now—greets him warmly as she tucks her glossy hair behind her ear. "Our next guest needs no introduction, Mr Suh how are you doing tonight?"

"I'm glad to be back in South Korea," Johnny replies, bowing down and leaning closer to speak into the microphone Kim, whomeverthefuck, is holding. The poor reporter, the motherfucker is messing with her. 

"And we are so glad to have you here, Mr Suh," she breathes out, blinking her big, round eyes at him and yeah she's gone. She's completely gone and to be honest, Kun is all the way gone too because not much of the interview is computing in his brain. Not much except for Johnny's broad shoulders in his tux, the dangle of his earring as he speaks, and the dangerous sparkle in Johnny's eyes while he goes back and forth with her. But—

“He kind of sounds tired,” Kun slurs, belatedly realising that that came out of nowhere as Doyoung and Ten are discussing whether or not the reporter was flirting with him when she asked about his workout regimen with a giggle. She totally was, though. Mood.

Ten grunts beside him, downing the remainder of his beer in one go before slamming the bottle on the low coffee table. “His schedule is insane according to industry insiders. I don’t know, he’s very secretive. No one ever knows what he’s really up to.”

“Rumour has it he’s filming in Seoul next year,” Doyoung adds.

“I read that he’s directing, too,” Hendery says as he rises from the floor with now perfectly groomed eyebrows, leaning on Xiaojun for support.

“Dejun-ge can I do yours next?”

“No.”

“He is?” Kun asks over the sounds of Xiaojun’s protests as Yizhuo pounces on him and knocks Hendery down, right when Johnny laughs at a lame joke, crinkling his eyes at the reporter with his stupid perfect face. “Oh, fuck.”

“I know, right? He’s so hot.” Yuta sighs dreamily, burrowing closer in Doyoung’s arms.

Kun nods as he takes a sip of his beer, his throat fucking parched watching Johnny pose for the dozens of photographers and paparazzi. “What’s he nominated for tonight?”

“Best actor, best supporting role, and one of his movies is nominated for best feature film,” Sicheng rattles off, looking up at Ten from where he’s sitting on the floor for confirmation, only turning back to the tv when he receives a nod and a soft smile in return.

“Oh, it’s Mark Lee!” Yizhuo gasps, excitedly pointing at the screen with her tweezers. Luckily, Xiaojun still has the wherewithal to duck out of her way, only narrowly managing to avoid losing his eye to her excitement. “I can’t wait ‘till the next Spider-Man comes out.”

“Please,” Hendery scoffs, his cheek still red where Yizhuo had elbowed him. “Mark Lee’s Spider-Man movies are not that exciting.”

Kun has to bite down his laugh when Xiaojun cocks his eyebrow, the one that’s not yet plucked to perfection, at Hendery. “You seemed to be into them when you forced us to marathon all four of those damn movies. In one day.”

Hendery sways, holding up a finger before taking a deep breath. “Just because I think that Marvel is bastardizing the comics by making mediocre movies for the masses, ‘stead of making good use of their disgustingly high budgets to focus on storytelling doesn’t mean that I can’t still enjoy Mark Lee’s Spidey—”

“Admit it,” Xiaojun cuts him off with a laugh, allowing Yizhuo to cradle his face again to finish his brows. “You love seeing Mark Lee wear that skin-tight outfit.”

“So what if I do! It’s not my fault he has a cool suit!” Hendery shouts, a little red-faced, and grabs for the nearest bottle of soju.

That sets them all off in a fit of giggles and taunts, but Kun feels just a little tiny extremely bit guilty, so he gets up and trudges to the kitchen in search of water for some much-needed hydration now that Johnny’s red carpet bit is done. He hears Ten ask Sicheng if he wants anything else from the kitchen while he’s up and snorts to himself when Ten fully ignores Doyoung’s requests for a bottle of water.

Ten joins him at the sink, his hands a little shaky as he grabs a glass of water for himself. “Fuck, I’m nervous.”

Kun hums, crossing his arms in the hopes that Ten doesn’t notice his own jittery condition. “For tonight or tomorrow?”

Ten thinks about it for a second, hip leaning against the countertop. “For tomorrow. I mean there's no way that Johnny's leaving empty-handed tonight, unless he gets snubbed again. But, I don't know, I guess it's starting to hit me now that everyone is going to meet my oldest friend."

“It’s going to be great, Ten,” he says, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile that doesn’t reveal just how much he’s dreading it himself.

“Sorry, for dragging you into this. I know you hate keeping secrets,” Ten whispers, nervously running a hand through his pitch-black hair and Kun bites his tongue before he starts bawling in the damn kitchen.

“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugs with a nonchalance he does not feel at all. He hopes that if any of his... thing with Johnny comes out that Ten will still want to speak to him, even though he most certainly won’t deserve it. “Has Sicheng met him yet?”

Ten frowns, scrunching his nose. “We video call when Johnny has time. They like to conspire with each other to bully me.”

“It’s what you deserve for bullying the rest of us.” Kun laughs despite the pit in his belly.

“If not me, then who?” Ten winks, dragging him back to the living room.

Kun gets progressively more drunk as the evening goes on because why not. He’s a fucking mess already even though he knows better than to drink this much on a work night. It helps that people keep pressing drinks in his hand, bets are made and drinking games are started and soon forgotten and the night goes by in a blur.

He expected to see more of Johnny throughout the night, and he whispers just that into Ten’s ear when he thinks it safe. Ten carefully explains to him the concept of seat fillers and how Johnny’s probably backstage with the other elites who have much better things to do than to sit in a stuffy theatre hall for hours on end without breaks.

He fights the desire to text Johnny the entire evening, mostly because somebody might see which would be a disaster and he’s drunk by now and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by accidentally expressing all the nasty shit he wants to do to Johnny in that fucking outfit of his with his hair slicked back in perfection and ugh. 

Also, there’s that whole Johnny-not-telling-him-shit thing and featured on tonight’s episode is how he didn’t tell him about his big event. So, obviously, there are unspoken boundaries still firmly lodged between them despite how Johnny keeps telling him that he wants more, but Kun really doesn’t want to think about that right now. It’s still an exciting night even though Johnny didn’t tell him. He probably has his reasons.

Besides, he might be overthinking everything again, right? Does it actually matter that Johnny keeps things from him? That’s normal right? Is it? Fuck, like Kun would know. What the hell does he know about relationships? Look at his track record, he clearly knows absolutely nothing about any of this. So, he thinks fuck it as he does a series of vanilla vodka shots with Doyoung who, as usual, doesn’t even look fazed even though Kun knows that man should’ve long been dead on the floor by now.

“They played the music before she was done with her speech, that’s two shots, right?” Yizhuo asks, pouring a row for Doyoung and Kun. For someone who doesn’t like alcohol, she sure does love getting other people drunk as shit. They taught her well.

“Fuck if I know, let’s just do one,” Kun groans.

“Weak.”

“Doie, I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Excuses.” Doyoung rolls his eyes at him, doing another shot all on his own and Kun questions for the millionth time that evening why Yuta loves his competitive ass so much.

It’s in the third hour of the actual show, after a small commercial break during which Kun had a five-minute staring match with his reflection in the bathroom mirror and then another staring match with Hendery on the living room floor under the soundtrack of Yizhuo and Dejun’s bickering, that Johnny’s first category is up.

Some celebrity wearing a flowy red gown who Kun vaguely remembers seeing in a martial arts movie a few years back holds a golden envelope, presenting it to the camera with a perfect white smile. The screen cuts to the actors and a four-way panel shows all nominees but Kun only has eyes for Johnny. Though Kun briefly thinks that Mark looks quite handsome, too. What a sweet looking kid.

“You think Johnny’s gonna win?” Kun asks Ten, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as Johnny adjusts his bowtie and waves his stupid paws at the camera.

Ten shakes his head. “Nah, it’ll be Mark Lee.”

“I’m betting on Johnny Suh,” Sicheng says from the floor, making Ten giggle and reach out to pat his head. “He was very convincing as that serial-killer florist, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Yizhuo muses, letting Xiaojun’s face go as she turns to the tv, gesturing with her tweezers. “Serial-killers are so overrated and I liked Mark Lee as that young advisor to the Joseon prince. It’ll definitely go to him.”

“Can you please finish plucking my eyebrows?”

“Hold on, I want to see Mark Lee.”

“But I look wei—”

“Shut up, they’re announcing the winner right now!”

Mark does win, smiling a toothy grin as he stands up. People are congratulating him left and right, but he goes straight to Johnny’s seat a few rows in the front. Johnny catches him in his arms, hugging him tightly, whispering a thing or two in his ear, before pushing him towards the stage to receive his award. It’s a heart-warming sight, they must be very close.

“Johnny will win best actor.” Ten concludes over the sound of Ningning’s phone camera snapping away at the TV and Xiaojun’s misery over his mismatched brows, while Mark does his speech.

Kun wonders what the fuck kind of clairvoyant powers Ten has, because Johnny does win best actor for a movie Kun hasn’t seen. (Yet, okay. There’s a lot of material he has to go through.) Though one glance at the others tells him that they have, all in various states of agreement. Ten’s cheeks are flushed with pride as the hall erupts in loud applause and hollers. The camera pans to a slightly dazed Johnny Suh having a hard time getting to the stage. People are swarming around him, showering him with congratulatory words and claps on his back. Kun kind of wishes he was there to congratulate him, too. Maybe kiss him right there in the middle of the aisle leading to the stage and, wow, isn’t that his most stupidest thought of the entire evening. 

Johnny stands tall on the large stage, taking a deep breath as his fingers, slightly trembling, curl around the bronze statuette. There’s a hint of fragility in his voice that Kun’s never heard before as he diligently makes his speech thanking crews, managers, his mother, his father, his fans, his friends. He wanted this recognition, he wanted it really bad and he has it right in the palms of his hands.

“Thank you so much. I will work hard to show you better performances and I hope that you will support me in the future, too.” Johnny bows deeply and the entire hall bursts out in another round of deafening applause. He smiles widely, eyes twinkling as he looks straight into the camera and winks. Kun almost throws up.

Johnny’s other movie doesn’t win best picture, though, the award going to some war movie Kun remembers seeing ads for around the city. Ten takes the three shots reserved for 'war movie wins' before they are even done introducing the nominees.  

Kun eyes the shot Yuta hands him with distaste, shaking his head at the thought of putting anything other than water in his mouth cavity at this point in the night. Yuta takes his rejection in stride, laughing with a shrug before handing it over to Doyoung who downs it in one go without question. This, for some reason, gets the two of them going, because they start making out on Kun’s couch without skipping a beat. Doyoung blushes from head to toe when Yuta lets him go, the liquor probably finally starting to hit him. Kun thinks it’s good that the two of them have found each other, because what the hell.

The show is over now by the looks of everyone’s complete disinterest in the tv; Yizhuo and Xiaojun are browsing channels for something else to watch and Sicheng’s busy showing Ten a funny picture on his phone, while Hendery’s snoring loudly on the floor. Kun decides to haul himself off the couch and manoeuvres around Sicheng, gently tugging at his elf ear for good luck. 

“I’m going to bed. Crash here, or walk home, ride a unicorn—I don’t care as long as nobody touches my car and I definitely do not care that Yuta only had, like, one drink.” Ten and Sicheng live across the street while Yuta and Doyoung rent a condo a few blocks behind them. In theory, this means that no one would have to borrow his car to get back home. In reality, however... Let’s just say that his warnings and mild threats are a necessity.

Ten barks out a laugh, whispering to Sicheng and probably planning out the next time he’s going to crash his damn Hyundai as he waves at Kun. Lucky for him, nobody (hint: Doyoung) insists on another round of drinks and they all simply wish him a good night.

By some miracle, Kun makes it to his room without tumbling down the two flights of stairs he has to climb up and up. (It happened once. It was Doyoung’s fault for insisting on polishing his stairs. Taeil-hyung almost peed himself laughing his ass off while Taeyong was the only one who helped him get back on his feet.)

He squints at his bed for a moment as he stands in the doorway, trying to remember why it isn’t tidy before remembering that he spent the night at Johnny’s cabin in the dunes, or whatever the fuck. God, that man is really something, isn’t he? And he won a prestigious award tonight to go with his collection of other prestigious awards that were probably scattered around his bajillion residences across the globe.

But do those residences have beds looking as comfortable and warm as the one right in front of Kun right now? Probably, yeah, but he really can’t give a fuck about that right now so he strips down, chugs the water bottle at his bedside table, and dives into his sheets with a comfortable sigh.

Johnny calls him when he’s just starting to nod off, a little after one in the morning. He’s honestly still fucking gone when he drags his phone to his ear, his face smushed in his soft pillow. “Hnngr, Johnny?”

“Hi, I know it’s late, but you said to call when I had time,” Johnny says a little gingerly.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Kun slurs, voice muffled by his pillow. “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to an after-party. Did I wake you up?” Johnny asks, sounding tired and worried enough like he’ll hang up if Kun even so much as yawns and that is no bueno at all.

“No, don’t worry! Just, it’s just- I’m just still drunk, I think.” Kun huffs out, annoyed at how his pillow is practically suffocating him so he pushes it off the bed, far, far away from him. “Go ‘way, stupid thing.”

“Me?” Johnny laughs, the deep sound settling in Kun’s throat and he has to force himself to suppress the whine he really, very badly wants to let out.

“No not you, never you,” Kun says, shaking his head even though Johnny can’t see him. But Johnny’s soft chuckle at that sounds like he’s right there next to him, anyway, sending his mind into a frenzy. 

“Are you okay? Do you have water?”  

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Kun says, because who cares about water right now. “Congratulations on your win best actor John Suh.”

“Thank you. Did you watch the entire show?” Johnny asks, and Kun can hear his smile in the way he speaks.

“Sort of. Kind of,” Kun starts, going over what he remembers of the night. “I was only paying attention when you were on. I only wanted to see you. Only watched it for you.”

“I was nervous because I knew you were watching.”

“You didn’t look nervous at all, you looked so good. You seriously make me go insane, d’you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. Tell me more,” Johnny whispers lowly.

Kun hums. “I’ll tell you all you wanna hear when I see you again.”

“Shit, alright. Okay. I— you should sleep soon, though. It’s late and you’ve got work in the morning.”

“Yeah, I will but…” Kun trails off, debating whether or not he should feed Johnny’s ego more.

“Hmm?”

Ah, what the hell. Johnny deserves the world, tonight. (And always.) “It’s stupid. I miss you. You’re stupidly hot.”

“I miss you too, baby,” Johnny sighs out, sounding a little out of breath and Kun wants to yell into his pillow, but then the fucker goes and asks: “What are you wearing?”

“Seriously? We’re not having phone sex, Johnny. I’m not that drunk.”

“Just kidding.” Johnny laughs. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Congrats again, you’ve worked hard.”

“Good night, baby.”

“G’night, gege.”

***

Rationally, Kun knows that the only reason why Johnny hasn’t replied to his texts all day is that he is busy getting all his work done. He knows as much because that was the only way he would be able to come over and meet the gang in the first place. He knows this, and yet, he can’t shut up that nagging voice lingering at the back of his head, right past his throbbing headache from last nights soirée, that’s telling him that Johnny doesn’t want to come. 

He feels a little better when he’s at the Antonov, readying orders to send out while helping the occasional customer. It might be something in the wood of his bookshelves, perhaps in the soothing scent of jasmine tea, or even through the way the light falls inside the store, warming him up from the inside-out. It helps him realize that he’s projecting his own insecurities and issues onto Johnny, which isn’t fair to either of them, really. Normally, he’d call up one of his friends or send a distress signal in the group chat to get out of his funk but, well, that’s not something he can do now. What would his friends tell him? Sicheng would probably tell him to get a grip and look at the facts. ‘What do you really know, ge?’

What does Kun know? He knows that Johnny misses him, he’d said so himself last night. Johnny wants to see him and they always have a fun time together. Ten will be happy and the others will definitely be surprised. It will be good, won’t it? Yeah, he’ll be lying to his friends, again, putting on a little theatre play with Johnny. But... But things are different now, right? He’s not deceiving them to hide the sordid details of a truly fucked up relationship, but, fuck if he knows, maybe for a chance at a better future? But he also knows that Johnny’s leaving the day after tomorrow. Two days left before Johnny’s flying back to California. Will Johnny still talk to him when he’s away? Will today be the last time they’ll meet?

He's still mulling over everything when he’s home, chopping vegetables for his crowd-pleasing stir fry, as he checks on the bulgogi marinating in the fridge, and yet still as he’s taking a shower, all the while until he’s picking out what to wear without looking like he’s trying too hard. (A simple sweater and jeans combo is stylish, right?) It’s only when he’s sitting at the kitchen table, looking around at all the food he's prepared, that he’s somewhat got a grip on himself. He’ll be fine, right? He’ll still be fine even if he doesn’t see Johnny anymore after today. But Johnny hasn’t given him any reason to believe his irrational fear. He trusts Johnny, so it’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Fucking hell, he’s totally going to have to go back to therapy, isn’t he?

Either way, there’s no going back anymore when he hears the click of the front door unlocking and the sound of people piling in. Shoes are kicked off and heavy winter coats hung on the coat rack over light chatter.

Taeyong’s soft voice calls out to him. “Kun?”

“In the kitchen, hyung!”

Taeyong and Jaehyun pop in, greeting him with arms full of beer, wine and liquor, expertly putting away the beer to cool and the rest on the counter. Doyoung follows not long after, still wearing his big puffer coat, mumbling something about it being fucking cold as he walks into the kitchen, coming to sit next to Kun at the dining table.

“Ten, Sicheng and Hendery are closing up the café right now, they’ll be up in a minute. Dejun and Yizhuo still have class— someone needs to go pick her up later— and Taeil-hyung is coming with Yuta after work.” Doyoung reports, shivering profusely as he relays all the information. He sticks his freezing feet, despite wearing thick woolly socks, right between Kun’s calves.

“Your blood circulation is all fucked up Doie, you should see a doctor,” Kun says as he flinches at the cold assault, but he doesn’t kick him away. Not even when Doyoung only shrugs in reply, wriggling his socked toes without a care in the world.  

“It’s not anyone’s birthday today, is it?” Jaehyun asks when he’s done putting away the special groceries, uneasily hovering at the fridge.

“No, you didn’t forget someone’s birthday,” Taeyong says as he takes a seat at the table, laughing at Jaehyun’s confused face.

“Then why are we even meeting on a weekday? Ten invent a Thai holiday again?” But he walks off before anyone can answer, plopping down on the couch and clicking on the tv.

“Not that I don’t want to be here, but Jae has got a point.” Taeyong concedes, eyes big and round as he whispers his next words. “Is Ten up to something, again?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Doyoung says, poking him in the side and the only reason Kun doesn’t throttle him is that he’s still shivering and it’s kind of sad and hilarious. “It can’t be that bad if Kun allowed him to host his... evening here.”

Doyoung says that as if last night’s viewing party, organised without his consent, never happened. Kun snorts. “When have I ever ‘allowed’ him to do anything? Ten does whatever he wants.”

“He listens to you,” Taeyong says, mulling it over while he runs his fingers through his fluffy cardigan. “Sometimes, at least.”

“I promise that whatever transpires tonight will most likely not leave you with any serious trauma,” Kun says, trying to reassure his friends without giving anything away.

"No trauma?" Jaehyun pipes up from the living room, laughing without turning away from the tv. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Kun can’t fault him for his scepticism. He still gets the fucking heebie-jeebies sometimes when he stares at his fridge for a little too long. (Do not ask. Don’t even try to ask.) There are some things that are just not meant to be humanly possible.

It isn’t long before Ten, Sicheng and Hendery stumble in with the latter two immediately going for the couch where Jaehyun’s booting up the PlayStation.

“Thanks for coming everyone,” Ten greets as he walks into the kitchen, looking excited and a little frazzled around the edges. It’s endearing in that special Ten kind of way. You know, the way where you can’t help but smile despite the dangerous glint in his eyes, even though you know that something is up.

Doyoung shifts, the chair squeaking as he tucks his knees to his chest while trying to keep his balance. “You’re not going to make us watch your newest favourite show again, are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not the one who was sitting on the edge of his seat to find out who drew the dicks?” Ten raises a brow and slides into the chair next to Taeyong.

“That’s beside the point.” Doyoung rolls his eyes and Kun has to bite his cheek, vividly remembering how Doyoung almost called in sick at work to finish binge-watching American Vandal.  

“Don’t worry,” Ten says with a simple shrug. Kun wants to applaud him for his composed act. He then turns to Taeyong with a smile, running his hand along the fluffy fabric of his cardigan. “Where did you get this?”

His house is really, truly, packed by the time Dejun’s back home from his classes, armed with more soju, and Kun has a hard time hearing himself over the inevitable ruckus that ensues when you put these people together in one room. He always forgets how fucking loud they really get. Ningning, Yuta and Taeil haven’t even arrived yet. Ugh.

It’s about nine-thirty in the evening when the sound of the doorbell’s chime cuts through the unnecessarily heated discussion on whether or not it’s normal to bite your ice cream (as opposed to merely licking it) and the sounds of Hendery, Jaehyun and Sicheng’s game.

Xiaojun spares a glance at the hall before turning back to watch the guys battle it out on the tv. “Who ordered food? Kun-ge is going to be pissed.”

“I don’t think anyone did,” Sicheng mutters, too focused on dodge-rolling his character away from Jaehyun’s before he dies. Again.

“Did Taeil-hyung forget the code?” Taeyong asks.

Doyoung shakes his head. “No, Yuta is with him and he definitely knows it.”

Meanwhile, Ten’s just sitting on the couch, smirking at the hall no doubt waiting for some poor chump to open the door and get the ever-loving shit scared out of them. The little bastard.

Kun sighs, weaving through the people strewn about his living room and into the hall. This is it. He runs his hand through his hair, shoots a little prayer to whichever deity is listening, and unlocks the door with more force than strictly necessary.

And oh, crap. Kun was absolutely not prepared for the sight that greets him on the other side of the door; Johnny Suh, in all his handsome glory, on his goddamn doorstep.

It’s ridiculous, really, but it’s the first time he’s ever opened the door to him like this. Usually, when it’s already late at night or if his housemates are out, Kun will be waiting for Johnny at the top of the stairs, waiting for Johnny to let himself in so he can throw himself into his arms, knowing that Johnny will catch him. But on those days that the others are home, running up and down the floors and inevitably in the process of causing some kind of trouble, Kun will ask Johnny to meet him at the Antonov and Johnny, who must be accustomed to a certain kind of luxury what with his fame and all, never refuses. They’ve made it back to his room in the early hours of the morning on a few occasions, but more often than not they’ll end up crashing on the couch at the Antonov, too content in the soft comfort of the nook under the stairs and the scent of old wood and books to move.

He’s gotten used to admiring Johnny in the midnight darkness of the Antonov illuminated only through the ambient lights at the store, or in the privacy of his room by the grace of the moon. So having Johnny on his doorstep like this with his brown overcoat, fluffy hair, and his shy smile shakes Kun up more than he’d expected it to. It almost feels illegal.

“Hey, Kun,” Johnny says softly, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile as he hands him a heavy tote bag.

Kun takes it, their fingers brushing as Johnny steps inside, and Kun knows he has to move away, knows he has to give Johnny space because people who are supposedly barely acquainted with each other should not be standing this close. But they are and Johnny steps a little closer to him, still, and before Kun can stop himself, he leans up to press Johnny’s lips against his own.

Kun feels Johnny’s sharp intake of breath against his cheek as they both realize what the fuck they are doing and step back. Fucking hell, that almost went wrong already.

“Um.” Kun rubs his nose and manages to squeak out a greeting, “Hello.”

But Johnny truly is a great actor, because he doesn’t even seem to react to their near misstep all the while Kun’s trying real hard to fight the flush on his face and not start hyperventilating in his damn hallway. Instead, Johnny calmly shrugs out of his coat, not missing a beat. “I didn’t know whether to bring white wine or red so I brought both. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” He wonders if he should tell Johnny where to put his shoes and coat to keep up the ruse as if he hasn’t been in and out of his home multiple times over the past two weeks. But Johnny goes straight for the coat rack himself, hanging his coat with utmost care before the entire structure tumbles down from the sheer weight of all the jackets, and neatly disposes of his boots next to the billion of other shoes littering his hall.

“Kun, you good?” Doyoung steps into the hall with a worried frown, walking right into Johnny. He’s quick to react, though, and Johnny reaches out to brace Doyoung so he doesn’t trip and fall on his stupid face.

“Shit, sorry,” Doyoung exclaims as he holds on and regains his composure, before doing a double-take. “Did Jaehyun lace the gin again, or are you Johnny fucking Suh?”