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Chapter Text

“Hi? Can I ask you guys something?”

It was the start of the new semester and it was warm out.  Seonghwa sprawled on the picnic table, letting Hongjoon feed him grapes, whilst complaining about just not having the staff to cater to his whims, each time Hongjoon got distracted by a text message on his phone, and not popping another grape into his mouth. 

Seonghwa slanted a glance to the side. The voice wasn’t familiar.  The boy wasn’t familiar, but Seonghwa wanted to know him.  Immediately, intimately. He tapped Hongjoon’s arm to get his attention. 

“Hyung, there is a cute boy talking to us.  Is he real or did you accidentally feed me special grapes again?”

Hongjoon turned around to look at the boy standing there, taking in the long legs cladded in black ripped skinny jeans, the black stretched out t-shirt that reads I AM A BOY NOT A TOY in military style font across the front, the skateboard under one arm and the art portfolio under the other. His eyes travelled up to the boy’s face and he understood Seonghwa's words completely.  

“No, he seems real enough.  Pretty.  Just your type."

It was only when Hongjoon confirmed the boy’s presence was real, that Seonghwa sat up, swinging his legs off the table and onto the bench. 

“Hey, pretty. Talking to me?”  His grin had been described as shiteating in the past, and yeah, he trotted it out now.  It worked, okay? More often than not. He also possibly stared too long at the new boy, taking in his thighs and smoothly muscled arms.  

The boy flushed but he wasn’t flustered, he just looked a bit annoyed.

“To both of you.”

Hongjoon and Seonghwa traded looks.  Well, it wasn’t that odd.  They were both attractive.  They turned in unison to regard the boy.  Seonghwa found himself wondering how he’d never noticed this boy on campus before. His hands itched for his pencils, to sketch that defined jaw, that full lower lip and his eyes.  Who had eyes like that? 

“We don’t do threesomes,” Hongjoon said, conversationally, almost regretfully.  “It’s either me, or him. He really doesn’t like sharing.”

Seonghwa clapped a hand over Hongjoon’s mouth at the shocked disgust on the other boy’s face.  “Please, just ignore him, he’s being an asshole.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you both?” The boy stared at them for a second longer before he looked up at the sky, as if asking for help from above.  “You know what? No, it’s fine. Nevermind, I’ve got other options.”  With that he dropped his skateboard and readied himself to skate off but Seonghwa leapt, motherfucking leapt off the table, towards him.  And if he accidentally punched Hongjoon in the face, so what?

“No, sorry, wait.”  He gripped the boy’s arm, stopping him from skating away.  They were making a scene now and Seonghwa was totally fine with that.  “Hongjoon is an a-grade asshole.  I am sorry.  He didn’t mean that.  His boyfriend broke up with him and he’s being really salty with everyone.  You wanted to ask us something.”

The boy, his eyes were hazel, but they were more than hazel? Seonghwa tried to figure out the colours in them. Which of his polychromos would he use to show the colour properly? Maybe he’ll have to enhance them somehow. Anyway, the boy stared at him, his mouth open.  Then he focussed on where Seonghwa gripped his bicep and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Let go.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Let go of my arm or I will fucking punch you in the nuts,” he said, clearly, succinctly. 

Seonghwa did as he was asked and he stepped back, for good measure.  This kid was something else. 

“Please,” Seonghwa said again, and he hated himself for it, because he never begged or said please.  And yet within the last few minutes he’s said it several times.  He didn’t know what to do with himself or why this boy made him say please so much. 

“I wanted to ask you both a favour,” the boy said, after some time, clearly evaluating his life choices.  “I’m a fashion major and I wanted to see if you both would model for me.”

Seonghwa was nodding yes before he’d even finished speaking, but Hongjoon had some preservation skills left.  He walked towards them, draping an over Seonghwa’s shoulders and pulling him against his side.  Seonghwa didn’t miss the way the boy’s gaze hardened at that. 

“Sounds interesting.  What does it entail, exactly?  And what type of clothes do you design?”

“And why us?” Seonghwa added, because he was an idiot. 

“I’ll show you.” The boy picked up his skateboard again and walked to the table. He moved the grapes and fruit to the side and unzipped his portfolio case.  “These are some initial designs only.  I think the style would suit you.  I’ve seen you with two of your other friends? Tall guy, handsome? He has these sharp cheekbones and a resting bitch-face?”

“San,” both Seonghwa and Hongjoon confirmed in unison. 

“And the other one, tall, good shoulders. Long legs. Pouts a lot and has a deep voice?”

“Mingi.”

The boy nods. “I think the four of you would suit my style really well.”  He spread his hands indicating his portfolio.  “What do you think?”

Hongjoon paged through sketch after sketch, not saying a word but Seonghwa could tell he was interested.  The designs were good.  Edgy, good use of colour, with form fitting trousers, big boots, jackets and a variety of shirts and t-shirts.  The designs had small notes, swatches and colour schemes attached.  

“Yeah, I’ll speak to Mingi and San, but I don’t see they’d so no,” Hongjoon said.  “What’s in it for us?”

“I’ll buy you food when you come for fittings.” The boy stared at them, his gaze flicking between them. “And you’ll get paid for your time.  Not much, but you won’t be doing this for free.  You’ll have to learn how to walk properly, to show off my clothes. I am taking a risk asking you.”

“Then why are you?”  

“Because you are all incredibly handsome and you suit what I’m going for.”

“What is your name?”  Hongjoon had his phone out and handed it to the boy.  “Give me your details.  We’ll message you when we’ve spoken to San and Mingi.”

“Yeosang. My name is Kang Yeosang.”

“Hongjoon, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa watched lithe fingers tap Hongjoon’s phone and bit his lip. 

“Yeosang?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up as he gave Hongjoon’s phone back, holding his hand out for Seonghwa’s. 

“I need a model for my art project.  Are you prepared to sit for me?”

Hongjoon choked on air and frankly, Seonghwa couldn’t care less, as he handed his phone over to Yeosang.  The boy glanced briefly at Hongjoon’s dramatics before looking back at Seonghwa. 

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, oh my god, so serious.  Look.”

Seonghwa grabbed the phone out of Yeosang’s hand and opened his pictures.  “These are some of the sketches I’ve done, these are my paintings.  I’ve got a few stuff on Redbubble and…”

“Sure.”  Yeosang held onto Seonghwa’s wrist, stopping him from scrolling.  “I like your art.  It’s colourful.  Like you.”  He pinched one photo that Seonghwa had taken of one of his bigger pieces and enlarged it on the screen, moving it around so he could look at it properly.  It was a large canvas and it showed San in profile. He had done his face outlined in thick black marker, adding splashes of colour to the canvas, using a mix of mediums and stencils.  It was one of Seonghwa’s favourites. 

“Message me and we can talk,” Yeosang said to Seonghwa and a light tinge of pink rode his cheeks.  There was an uptick at the corner of his plush mouth and Seonghwa wanted to press a kiss to it but he held himself back and he thought he deserved a fucking gold star for that. 

Yeosang turned back to the table and zipped up his profile. “I have to get to class. Thanks for this.  I am grateful.”

Hongjoon and Seonghwa watched him skateboard away in silence before they turned to look at one another. 

“You are so whipped,” Hongjoon said. 

“I am so fucked,” Seonghwa said with feeling. 

Chapter Text

Bro, Yeosang texts as he wheels away. They said yes.

Wooyoung Bro from another Mother

Bro, that is amazing bro.  Amazing! Wooyoung texts back, fast.  Only, I’m not sure what you’re talking about?

You are the worst, Yeosang grunts and texts that whilst he’s waiting at some traffic lights.  

But bro, you still love me, right? Love me enough to feed me? Bro?

Bro?

Bro?

Brooooooo?

Hyung!!!

Yeosang ignores the buzzing in his pocket as he slams into the mom and pop on the corner, picking up microwave meals for him and Wooyoung, and leaves after brief small-talk.  He wasn’t good at small talk.  It messed with his head.  His head which is currently full of Seonghwa. Lithe fuck that he was.  Who, apart from idols and GQ models have features like that? Lips like that? Eyes that promise everything and a tongue that…just? Yeosang was pretty sure Seonghwa had no idea what he did when he licked his lips the way he did. 

He took the corner at the dorms too fast, but he handled it, keeping his core strong and rode out the wobble. He pushed Seonghwa out of his head.  He had sketches to do tonight and a tonne of research to do on historical costumes.  He had no time for hot as sin boys, he told himself smartly, as he pushed his way into their small apartment. 

Wooyoung was at his desk, his nose buried in a text book and he moaned lewdly when he saw the shopping packet in Yeosang’s hand. 

“You know what. Yeosang? I think I love you.”

“I love you to Woo.  Make space so we can eat.”

Yeosang dumped his portfolio and set about making their dinner.  Making dinner was micowaving rice and two servings of sweet n’ sour chicken that, once it’s done, he liberally adds sriracha sauce to and freshly cut chilli.  

Wooyoung had made space on their shared dining room table and hums happily around a mouthful of food. 

“Who saif yefs to whafs?” 

Luckily, Yeosang spoke Wooyoung. 

“Two of the guys I want to model for me at the end of season show said they’re interested.  They’ll ask their friends if they’re interested too.”

“Bro, that is amazing.” Wooyoung beamed at him.  Wooyoung was the best bro to ever bro. He was supportive.  “I still get to do the music, right?”

“Yes, you do.”

Wooyoung squirmed in his chair.  “But why are you scowling?”

Yeosang stared at him, scowling.  “I’m not scowling.”

“Bro, you have resting bitch face. I have seen babies literally burst out into tears when they see you.  Scowling makes you even more intimidating.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“Fucking liar.” Wooyoung pulled Yeosang’s food away from him, earning him another scowl, this time with added venom.  “What are you stressed about?”

“The one guy, Seonghwa. Is a complete asshole.  He smiles.”

“He…smiles.”

Yeosang grimaced. “Fuck off, Woo. I can’t explain it.” And then he tries to explain it.  “It’s like he expects the world to fall into his lap when he smiles. He has this face?”

“I am so glad I am the eloquent one and you are merely the fashion designer,” Wooyoung says, holding back his laughter. “So, this boy with the face and the smile, do you like him?”

“No. I want to punch him.”

“Okay, it’s a trope I can work with.”

“Fuck off, bro.”

Yeosang viciously stabbed at Wooyoung’s face with his chopsticks, making him recoil, before grabbing his food back and eating.  He refuses to speak to Wooyoung for the rest of the night. 

***

Yeosang was in the library making sketches when his phone buzzed.  He ignored it at first, too involved in detailing the folds and lace on the dress in the photo he was referencing.  But eventually the buzzing got too much and he sat back to check his phone. 

Hongjoon - A Grade Asshole 

Hey, Coco Chanel, it’s Hongjoon. 

Coco!

Boy Toy, are you ignoring me now? You stalked us yesterday. 

Coco!

Okay, you don’t like Coco Chanel.  How about Lagerfeld? Is it Lagerfeld? Lagerfield? Lager? Yeah, I could do with some beer.

Yeosang was not amused. 

Yeosang - pretty stalker boy

Why are you blowing up my phone. I’m working. 

Hongjoon - A Grade Asshole 

Jesus, this is the right number? I thought you’d ghosted us, Coco!

Yeosang - pretty stalker boy

What do you want, Hongjoon?

Hongjoon - A Grade Asshole 

Well, Coco, I was going to tell you Mingi and San said yes.  But if you’re not interested then…

Yeosang - aka Coco

Fuck you. 

I am interested. 

Hongjoon - A Grade Asshole 

Thought as much.  They want to meet you though.  They want to make sure you’re not just some pervert who wants to dress them in pretty clothes. 

Yeosang - Coco

I have regrets…

But I understand.  Meet me at six tonight, at my workshop. Bring drinks. I’ll send you the address. 

Hongjoon - Coco

See you then, Coco. 

***

Yeosang’s workshop was off campus. It used to be a clothing factory, but the owners discovered that they could far more money out of it if they let it out to creatives and students.  His space sat at the far end of the warehouse.  He was lucky that it had high ceilings with tall windows, a second floor accessed via a rickety staircase and a large open plan area at the bottom.  The upstairs held shelves that held carefully organised bolts of fabric. 

The downstairs held his two cutting tables, his sewing machines, overlockers and his Mac.  There was a desk made of planks he’d rescued from one of the other businesses who was going to turf it out.  He’d hammered it together and put it on a trestle legs.  He loved it and that is where he spent a lot of his time sketching and studying.  Some of his favourite designs hung on the walls.  A large corkboard took up one entire wall and he’d pinned designs, swatches and images torn from magazines that he liked, along with whatever else he fancied to it.  The other wall held a clothing rack full of samples he’d designed over the past few years.  Some he really liked, others he liked less but he let them stay because it was about moving forward and evolving.  

Yeosang liked his workshop but he also was an intensely private person and inviting the boys into his space made him nervous.  He looked around, wondering what they’d make of it.  Apart from Seonghwa who he knows does art, he has no idea what the others are studying or what they were into.  He suddenly wished that Wooyoung could’ve made tonight, but he was tutoring a junior in something  to do with language and Yeosang didn’t have to brain capacity to listen.  They are probably banging.  Wooyoung liked them in awe of his literary skills. 

He dropped his skateboard to the floor and kicked off.  Five to six. They’d be here any minute. He rolled up and down between his cutting tables, getting his nerves under control.  On the dot at six, he heard voices from the far side of the warehouse.  His hands went cold. 

The knock on the door should not have surprised him, but it did. He jerked with fright and told himself he was being fucking stupid.  He tipped his board up and hung it up on the wall with his others, before opening the door. 

Yeosang was not easily intimidated but faced with Mingi and San, Hongjoong and Seonghwa crowding into his space, made him space out for a second.  But then he put his usual scowl in place and stepped back.  

“Hi, come in.  Make yourselves at home.  Just, don’t touch anything.”

Mingi whistled low and under his breath as he took in the space.  He spun around, grinning.  

“Man, this place is amazing.  Do you rent it?”

San cuffed him behind the head.  “Of course he rents it, Mingi-ah. And close your mouth, you’ll attract insects.”  San turned to Yeosang.  “You must be Yeosang.  I’m San, my best friend, Mingi.”

They shook hands and wandered further into the workshop.  Mingi didn’t listen and was touching the fabric swatches he’d pinned to the wall next to some designs.  Yeosang watched them, worrying at his lip.  

Hongjoong clapped him on the shoulder and brushed past him.  “Where do I put this?” He asked, holding up two bags of beer from the nearest shop.  Yeosang led him to the table and showed him where the fridge was. 

Seonghwa walked around the workshop, hands in his pockets, his expression thoughtful. Yeosang caught the way he looked at his sketches, at his mood board. He also caught the way the jeans hugged Seonghwa’s ass, thighs and the way his t-shirt clung to his shoulders moulded against his wide chest. He looked away before he could get caught to scowl down at the beers. Why did he need models again?

“So this is where the magic happens?” Hongjoong says after doling out beers for everyone.  All four the boys have managed to squeeze onto his leather couch, leaving Yeosang standing, leaning with is hip against one of his cutting tables. 

“It is.  And thanks, again.  So, I suppose I should show you some of the stuff I’ve done before. To give you an idea.”

He goes back to his desk and finds a few other notebooks and portfolios.  He hands them to the guys. 

“So, this year, I want to do something different, something with more bite. I didn’t want to play it safe.”

“Hyung, nothing about your designs are safe,” San said, holding up a design. Three heads craned round to see it.  

“We were asked to submit ideas for a group’s MV,” Yeosang said, refusing to be embarrassed by the amount of bare skin, leather and sheer fabric there was to be seen.  “The next few designs in that portfolio will show you the concept I had in mind for the group.” 

San flipped the pages.  He looked delighted. Seonghwa on the other hand looked like he wanted to pass out.  He was holding onto the portfolio in his lap so hard his knuckles were white. 

“Look, I know it’s a lot.  I know I’m asking you guys to step out of your usual comfort zones and do something that’s completely foreign to you, so I get that you’re freaking out and you're not comfortable.”  They shared looks but no one spoke for a few moments. 

“So, you want us to actually model your clothes at a show?” Mingi asked and stood to walk over to the clothing rail so he could flip the hangers.  “Like fashion models you see on TV?”

“Like that, but better.”  Yeosang hooked the tall stool closer so he could sit on it.  “Most fashion shows you’ll see, most models you’ll see either on tv or in magazines, are so finely groomed that everything they wear looks fake, regardless of price tag.”

“So you chose us because we look rough?” San asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“The fuck, no.  What is wrong with you people?” Yeosang was just short of slapping a hand to his face.  “I’m asking you to walk for me, because you are real. Do you understand what I’m saying?  You’ll make my clothes pop.”

All of them were shaking their heads.  Yeosang sighed and necked his beer before putting it down on the table behind him.  

“Mingi, come here.”

Mingi obediently made his way to stand at Yeosang’s side.  He crossed his eyes and made fish lips at his bros but the moment Yeosang glared at him he stopped.  Yeosang pulled at his ratty t-shirt and nodded to his cap.  

“Take that piece of crap off your head.  And your t-shirt.” 

Yeosang walked to his samples and chose one of his favourite shirts and a simple structured jacket.  

“Put this on.  Tuck the shirt in, no, like this.” He batted Mingi’s hands away and tucked the shirt in partway. “See, you can do this and it shows off your belt, it elongates your whole look, get it? Now put on the jacket.” Yeosang left Mingi to fuss with the clothes he gave him and wheeled his large cheval mirror forward so that Mingi could see himself. 

He turned Mingi so that Mingi could look at himself from all angles. There was a discernible difference in how Mingi held himself. He looked taller, his shoulders squared beneath the almost military style jacket.  There was an arrogance to the way he held his chin and his eyes looked darker. 

“See?” Yeosang turned to the three boys on the couch.  “Do you see what I mean?” San let out a low whistle and both Seonghwa and Hongjoong were nodding, looking shaken. 

Mingi on the other hand still didn’t look convinced, but he ran a hand over the fabric of the shirt.  “This is really nice. I like the way it feels.”

Yeosang gestured with both hands as he sat back down on his stool.  “There, that says it all.  He doesn’t see it, but he feels it. That’s what I want.  I want you guys on the runway because you’re not finessed to an inch of your lives. You are real and you’re gorgeous and you'll appreciate my clothes for what they are.”

Yeosang watched them and saw that they understood.  And if he wasn’t so nervous, he’d have shed a tear of relief. He caught Seonghwa's eye as he raised the bottle to his lips and the boy's eyes are so dark and intense Yeosang almost choked on his beer. He wiped his mouth and chin, because obviously he'd make a fool of himself. He pulled his phone out and brandished it. 

"So, food? Everyone okay with pizza?"

Chapter Text

Seonghwa was fascinated by Yeosang. They were waiting for the pizza to be delivered and the boy had his hyungs wrapped around his long fingers. They were talking clothes, of all things. San, who had been hesitant at first, seemed wholly smitten with Yeosang and who could blame him?

He was beautiful, smart, acerbic and talented.  Seonghwa had moved to one of the other chairs in the workspace and watched them interact. He got his sketchbook out, letting the sound of their voices become background noise.  Someone, possibly Mingi had badgered Yeosang into turning his monster iMac on and had chosen a playlist from Spotify.  The music further lulled Seonghwa into his own mind, and he sketched, smaller details that he liked to take note of. 

He drew the way San’s eyes narrowed when he listened.  He drew Mingi’s jawline.  He watched the way Seonghwa interacted with Hongjoong, and he found it fascinating.  Hongjoong was pretty and  used to being the centre of attention.  Seonghwa treated him no different to the way he treated San and Mingi which was nice because everyone loved Hongjoong, something about the boy’s personality drawing people in.

He didn’t realise that he had effectively cut himself off from their discussions when San walked over to him, handing him a bottle of water from Seonghwa’s fridge. 

“You okay?” 

San, of course it’s San with his sharp eyes and devastating smiles who’d notice he was off. He accepted the water and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m good.  What do you think? You guys interested in him? In his fashion show?”

San leaned against the table next to Seonghwa and instead of looking at Yeosang, he stared at his friend. 

“I think so.  He’s passionate.  His designs are great too.” He tapped a long finger on the page of Seonghwa’s sketchbook.  “But if you’re not keen?”

“What? No, I’m fine. I’m keen.  It’ll be interesting.  Something to add to the resume, right? Walked in a fashion show for an up and coming designer.  Who knows, he might be famous one day.”

Seonghwa was talking too much.  He should really shut up because San knew him, knew him

“You like this guy?”  Sharp-eyed San, always so observant. 

“I don’t know him,” Seonghwa pointed out, levelly. 

“Well, you won’t get to know him if you just sit here drawing the asshole, Seonghwa.” And then he had Seonghwa up and was pulling him towards the others. 

Yeosang looked surprised to see them, like he forgot Seonghwa was even there and it made him shift and lean into San, who had zero compulsion to baby anyone ever. Instead he just shoved Seonghwa upright and took two long strides away to stand next to Hongjoong. 

“What have you been sketching?” Yeosang asked but, because he obviously saw the way Seonghwa’s hands tightened on his sketchbook, didn’t move closer.  “Ah, you don’t like to share, I remember what Hongjoong said the other day.”

“It’s either me, or him. He really doesn’t like sharing.” The words echoed in Seonghwa’s ears and he gave a strained laugh.

“I can’t believe he was such a shit to you,” Seonghwa said.  “Hongjoong sometimes has no filter.”

“Sometimes?” Mingi cut in.  “The man is a menace to society.”

“Eh,” Yeosang said, looking at Hongjoong who looked pained.  “He’s pretty enough to get away with it.  Until he runs into someone who’ll give him a run for his money.”

“Yah!” Hongjoong pointed a finger.  “Don’t…”

“What?” Yeosang fronted, tilting a chin in challenge.  “Use your words like a grown up.”

“Don’t call me out like that in front of my friends. I feel attacked.”

Yeosang smirked and turned to look at Seonghwa.  Who was possibly staring at him too intently, his eyes lingering on the up curve of the other boy’s mouth. Seonghwa knew he was caught when those hazel eyes sharpened. 

“What do you think of my designs?”

“They’re nice.” They are amazing. You are amazing. I want to kiss you.  Shit. “No, I mean your designs are really great.”

Yeosang didn’t answer because just then there was a knock on the door and Mingi let out a groan that was almost sexual. 

“Food. Oh thank god. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

At the door Yeosang passed Mingi the pizzas and handed the delivery guy a tip before closing the door and walking back into his workshop. 

“Don’t!” He shouted when he spotted Mingi lowering the boxes onto one of his cutting tables.  “Don’t you dare put those boxes on the table.  The fat will stain the worktop and damage any fabrics I cut on it.”

Mingi jerked the pizza’s back and staggered wildly, his eyes wide.  

“The fuck, bro?”

Yeosang gestured to a rugged table.  “Here, put it here.” 

Seonghwa tried to relax.  Jesus, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was a confident twenty one year old man who had been kissed, who had kissed and who had done considerably more than kiss. He should not be watching Yeosang the way he was.  It wasn’t healthy.  But he couldn’t find his footing.  He called the man pretty the first time he’d seen him and he possibly leered at him like some lech.  Honestly, what the fuck had been in those grapes Hongjoong had been feeding him. 

“Right, Seonghwa?”

“Sorry, what?” He glared at San who was telling Yeosang some story he’d zoned out on, as he was trying not to stare at Yeosang licking his fingers free of cheese.  

“I was telling him about the gallery.”

“The gallery,” Seonghwa parroted.  “Oh shit, yes.  The gallery. It’s not a big deal.”  He waved his slice.  Why did it have pineapple on it? He hated pineapple.  “I’m not the only one that got chosen to show.  Yunho and Jongho are showing too.”

“Also friends of yours?” 

“Yes, they’re both arts students.  Jongho is our maknae.  He is a menace.” Seonghwa grinned fondly.  “The gallery is owned by the wife of one of our arts professors.  She showcases selected students’ art at the end of each year.”

“So, what are you guys studying?” Yeosang asked.  “I know Seonghwa is a fashion major, what about you guys?”

“Hongjoongg is a music’s major,” San said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “Mingi and I are dance majors.”

“Ah, the music.” Yeosang nodded.  “I get it now.”

Seonghwa understood what he meant immediately and grinned. His friends could not live without music, so there was never any silence around them.  When he thought of them, it was always to them dancing, singing or seriously discussing whatever song they were listening to.  Seonghwa had lost track of the size of his spotify playlist because of them. 

“So, dancing? Classical, jazz, contemporary.  Ballroom?”

Mingi grabbed San by the shoulders and within seconds he was waltzing his friend around the workshop, careful of the obstacles in the way. 

“Yes, ballroom,” San said laughing over his shoulder as Mingi segued them into a wild tango to keep up with the beat from the iMac’s speakers. He swept San in a low backwards arch, bending him as far as he would go without actually hitting his head on the ground, before straightening and spinning him out.  They were both laughing and ridiculous. 

Yeosang was smiling and applauding.  “So impressive.  Eight of ten, at least.”

Mingi shook his hair back from his face, grinning.  “Thank you, thank you. We’re here all week.” 

“Yah, let me go. I need more food.”  San disentangled their hands and got back to the table with the pizzas.  “We’re doing modern dance, but we just like dancing. Mingi used to do a lot of breakdancing when he was younger.”

“Yeah, I have the scars to prove it.”

“My friend Wooyoung will be doing the music for the show.  You should meet up with him.”

“Why isn’t he here then?” Seonghwa asked, and he couldn’t help the tinge of annoyance in his voice.  Friend? What did that mean? Was it friend friend or was it FRIEND FRIEND. He kinda hated himself for the kick of jealousy in his stomach. 

“He’s off tutoring someone. I don’t know.  He’s a music/lit double major.”  Yeosang waved his hand.  “It’s complicated.  He’s on an advanced track. I think he’s Hermione or something.”

“Did you…” Hongjoong looked shocked.

“He just did…” Mingi was laughing. 

“Holy shit.” San started laughing, slapping his thigh.  

Seonghwa was scowling as he finished off his slice and sucked the cheese off his thumb.  He completely failed to see Yeosang shoot him a dark look, before turning to look at the others. 

“What? Why are you laughing? What is so funny?”

“You made a Harry Potter reference. Yunho is going to fucking love you.”

“Do you need anyone else super pretty to walk for you? Yunho would love it.”

The thought of Yunho anywhere near Yeosang made Seonghwa want to punch someone. Anyone. What the hell was wrong with him? Yunho was his friend, his bro, his hyung.  Seonghwa grabbed the bottled water with an annoyed huff and too late did he realise he hadn’t screwed the cap on properly.  Water cascaded over half his face, his t-shirt and his jeans.  

“Holy shit!” He gasped, jumping back so that the water could fall on the cement floor, rather than on the table or across the pizzas. “Holy shit, I’m sorry.  That was stupid.”

Yeosang looked annoyed but he grabbed napkins from the stash on the table and handed them to Seonghwa. 

“It’s fine.  Dry the floor before you slip and brain yourself.  Honestly.  Are you five?”

Seonghwa took the napkins and stared at Yeosang as he stalked away from them.  San and Mingi were creased up laughing and Hongjoong was worriedly checking the pizzas.  

“It’s okay, you’re the only one who got soaked.  The food’s okay.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Seonghwa said drily, from where has was crouched on the floor, wiping the water.  “Pass me more napkins.”

“Here,” Yeosang said, handing him a towel.  “Use this instead.”

Seonghwa glanced up and immediately wished he hadn’t.  Yeosang was towering over him, lean legs in ripped jeans giving way to a lean torso the black t-shirt he was wearing couldn’t hide.  Yeosang was staring down at him, a heavy frown between his brows and he had his lips pursed as he looked at Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa was not a saint. Fuck. The dynamics here were screwed. He was screwed.  He couldn’t help the soft gasp, or the way he let his eyes drag its way slowly down Yeosang’s body, resting a little longer than it should have on his waist, the fabric stretching tight across his crotch.  He didn’t even care that he let his eyes wander up again to the other boy’s face where they stayed, caught by the widening in the other’s gaze.  He bit his lip hard and breathed through his nose. 

“You should change,” Yeosang said and his voice seemed deeper.  He was still holding the towel.  “Mingi, catch.” He threw the towel at the tall dancer and it hit Mingi in the face. Yeosang grabbed Seonghwa by the arm and pulled him up. Seonghwa realised that he was taller than Yeosang and it made him a little weak in the knees, being manhandled by him. “Come.” Yeosang pointed at Mingi then the floor.  “Wipe that up, please.”

Seonghwa didn’t even bother looking at his friends as he let Yeosang drag him over to the clothes rack.  

“Use this to dry yourself,” Yeosang said, handing him another towel from where there were several stacked on a chair.  “You can borrow one of these shirts,” he said.  He let his eyes skim over Seonghwa’s form.  “They should fit. Here, I think this one.”  He flicked through the shirts rapidly, handing the one he chose to Seonghwa but pulled it back.  “Are you purposefully not undressing?”

“I..what?” Seonghwa blinked at him. 

“Are you shy?” Yeosang huffed through his nose.  “The gods save me from prima donnas.”  He draped the shirt back over the clothing rail.  He tugged something against the wall and a curtain fell from the ceiling, blocking them from view.  “Some models don’t like changing in front of others,” he explained.  “Now, take off your clothes.  Get dry and put on some dry clothes.” Yeosang pointed to the shirt.  “This ought to fit you.  What size waist are you? I think…35 or 36…I think maybe…”

Seonghwa stilled as he dropped his wet t-shirt on the ground to find Yeosang staring at him.  Yeosang’s lips were parted, and his eyes were very dark. He had his hand raised between them, as if he was going to wrap it around Seonghwa’s hip, like he wanted to rub his thumb over the exposed skin, but he had stopped.  Seonghwa wondered if the other boy could hear his heart knocking against his ribs.  He felt hot.  Why was he so hot? He could feel the heat across his cheeks and it was only when he swallowed, audibly, that Yeosang took half a step back, dropping his hand to his side, curling it into a fist at his side. 

“Just…” he gestured.  “Choose any of the trousers here.  It’s fine.  I’ve got to go. Eat.”

And with that he was gone, the curtain fluttering closed around him, leaving Seonghwa leaning heavily against the clothing rail, his heart racing, his mouth dry and his head dizzy, a towel clutched in his hand, wondering what the fuck had just happened. 

Chapter Text

Wooyoung burst into their studio apartment so loudly and unexpectedly, Yeosang fell off the couch, having thrown both hands in the air, scattering popcorn everywhere.  

“‘The fuck, Yoongie!?” He shouted, pressing a hand against his chest. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Wooyoung barely spared him a glance.  He locked the door, dropped his bag and too a running leap at Yeosang, clutching at him, wrapping both legs and arms around him and holding tight. 

“I fucked up, oh god, I fucked up.  You have to help me,” he breathed, sitting on Yeosang, hands grabbing his t-shirt, giving him a shake.  “Yeosang, please, bro, you have to fix it.”

Yeosang pushed Wooyoung’s face away from his chest with a look of distaste.  Wooyoung, once he got going, was dramatic.  And Yeosang was not good with dramatic.  It scared him.  But, they’ve been friends long enough now that he’d learned how to handle an emotional Wooyoung. 

It was always best to stop him before things went too far.  But tonight apparently, was one of those nights where the drama just wore Wooyoung like a glittery dress.  Actual tears had formed in Wooyoung’s eyes and his shoulders were shaking as he huddled against Yeosang’s chest. 

“Yoongie?” Yeosang gave his hyung an awkward pat.  “What happened?  What did you do?”

“I kissed a boy.”

Yeosang’s hands fluttered to his friend’s shoulders, pushing him back a little.  “You kiss a lot of boys,” he muttered.  “Why are you freaking out about this boy?”

“Because,” Wooyoung pushed back to stare at Yeosang.  “I shouldn’t have kissed him.  But he was just so…” Tears spilled again.  “He was just so goddamn pretty, Yeosangie. And he kissed me back. And it was so good.”

“So? You liked it? He liked it?” 

“Fuck, yes, so much.”

Yeosang closed his eyes.  “I need alcohol,” he said to no one in particular.  Lots of it.  “And so, what is the problem?”

But Wooyoung was crying again. And he was making a mess of Yeosang’s t-shirt. Yeosang waited for the crying to lessen.  Carefully, he shifted Wooyoung off his lap and padded to their kitchen.  He found a bottle of soju, two clean glasses and carried it back to the table.  He sat down next to Wooyoung who curled up against his side, still sniffling.  Yeosang turned down the volume on the movie he was watching, so that the voices were barely audible, before he poured them each a shot.  

They threw the soju back.  Then two more shots followed the first. 

“Wooyoungie, what happened?”

“I can’t…” he hiccuped.  “Another, please.”

“You have class in the morning,” Yeosang warned him.  

“Fuck class.  Fuck school.  Fuck everything.”  He leaned over and almost toppled the soju bottle over as he poured them each another shot.  “I’m getting drunk.”

Yeosang, because he was a good bro and hyung couldn’t let Wooyoung get drunk by himself, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what it was they were getting drunk about.  But then, he had his own demons riding him.  Demon, singular.  A demon with lips like sin and eyes so dark and expressive he wanted to do terrible things to see those lips part and moan and tears form in those eyes.  

There were more shots.  And a second bottle of soju.  Wooyoung was sobbing again and Yeosang was actually holding his friend this time, because soju just did that, breaking down his dislike for touching and being touched.  

Some time, during the small hours of the morning he’d managed to get them both showered and into their respective beds in their respective rooms.  Yeosang was fucking proud of that.  He smiled to himself in the dark as he downed two glasses of water and some aspirin.  He didn’t bother setting his alarm because fuck classes.  

***

Yeosang found himself in the library before lunch.  If he blew off classes, he knew he had to make it up by doing coursework.  He sat with his books spread out around him, enjoying the feel of the sun against his face where it came through the windows.  He had no idea how long he sat like that, with his eyes closed, but the library was almost empty and no one would see him anyway.  The silence was a balm.  Wooyoung was still sleeping when he left earlier.  Clearly something had happened to his bro to shake him up so badly.  Wooyoung was confident, smart and cute.  But he also had a propensity to talk big, front and do stupid things.  Like kissing boys who maybe did not want to be kissed? 

Yeosang sighed and bent back to his coursework.  He had to write an essay on the socioeconomic impact the Huguenots had leaving France, specifically pertaining to how it impacted the weaving industry.  It was interesting, but it was also dull. 

***

Seonghwa sat on the floor in the library, his pencil flying over the page as he sketched Yeosang.  He’d stumbled across him by accident just as he was leaving to meet Hongjoong. He wanted to go up and talk to him, but the other boy had just looked so pensive as he sat in the sun, his head tilted towards the light, that Seonghwa couldn’t break the moment. 

The sunlight had made a halo of his hair, softening the sharp line of his jaw, picking out the high cheekbones and length of his neck.  

He was dressed in black again, today.  Seonghwa suspected that it was his signature, to wear only black.  It suited him though, it contrasted beautifully with his pale clear skin.  Seonghwa tried not to remember their interaction from the day before, and especially not that moment where Yeosang had almost touched Seonghwa before pulling back and away.  

Seonghwa’s phone buzzed and he turned it off, caught up in the long lines of the other.  It was only when his legs started to cramp that he realised he’d been sitting here for almost an hour, sketching.  He paged through his sketchbook, satisfied with what he’d done.  He packed up his pencils and notebook before standing with effort.  He’ll have to ask either Mingi or San to help him stretch out his legs.  Maybe he was really getting old?

“Seonghwa?” 

He whipped his head around so fast he almost cracked it against the shelf he was leaning against when he heard Yeosang’s voice behind him. 

“Oh, hey.” He flushed as he straightened, lifting his bag over his shoulder. Yeosang’s hazel eyes were frank as he stared at him.  He tried his best not to look like he had not just spent the better part of an hour drawing his crush like some perv.  “How are you doing?”  He was going to hell in a hand-basket. 

“I’m not sure,” Yeosang said, rubbing a tired hand over his face.  “This essay I’m trying to write is kicking my ass.” 

It’s then that Seonghwa realised that Yeosang did in fact look less great than usual.  Before he could stop himself, he closed the gap between them, which, okay was a stupid thing to do because for a microsecond Yeosang stared at him, eyes very wide, before stepping back, creating a bubble of space around himself. 

“You look terrible.  Have you had lunch?” Seonghwa glanced at the desk where Yeosang had been sitting.  “If not, get your stuff, I’ll buy you to lunch.”

“What? No, I mean, thanks? But also,” Yeosang looked flustered and then annoyed.  “I look that bad?” 

“No, what the hell.  You look fine.”  Seonghwa fluttered a hand and noticed that today Yeosang’s t-shirt said sarcasm is my defence mechanism .  “It’s just that you look really tired. Like you’ve been awake most of the night?” His mind went into what would keep Yeosang awake most of the night, and he imagined Yeosang moaning under someone, coming undone, and his mind literally slammed the door on that image shut. Hard.  

“Oh, yeah.  Well.  Roommate issues.” Yeosang turned and walked back to his desk.  He gathered his stuff together and packed it away in his backpack.  “I’m not letting you buy me lunch, but I wouldn’t mind the company.  Besides, we’ve not had the chance to talk about me sitting for you.”

They left the library and Seonghwa was very aware of the distance Yeosang kept between them as they walked side by side.  It wasn’t something he’d every consciously thought about, as San and Mingi were forever hanging off one another, off him, off Hongjoong and both Jongho and Yunho seemed to make it their mission to cuddle all of them, like baby koalas.  Their skinship was natural, felt natural, and it never occurred to him that there would be anyone who shied away from touch. 

“Where do you want to go?” Yeosang asked.  “Any allergies? Are you vegetarian?”

“No, I’m fine with anything.”

“Easy, I like it.” Yeosang hummed and glanced around, not seeing the way Seonghwa flushed at his words.  “There’s a place I’ve been meaning to try.  It’s a cafe, but they do decent food, apparently.  You up for it?”

“Sure.” 

“What were you doing at the library today?”

“Research.  I’ve been there since they opened.  I have a project I’m working on for class. It’s on the pre-Raphaelite movement. It’s kinda boring really.”

“Nice. I’m researching the Huguenots.  About weaving and socio economic impact and oh my god I am losing my mind.” Yeosang groaned and clutched his face.  “I mean, I usually don’t mind it? But I can’t get my brain to function today.”

“Eh, it’s okay.  I feel you.  I am fucking arts student. I don’t want to write essays.”

Yeosang leads them to a large cafe with an outdoor courtyard area.  They order and take their food to a table in the courtyard.  It was later than most would get lunch, so the place was quiet. 

“So, what are you planning to do with your degree,” Yeosang asked him as they sat down.  Seonghwa doesn’t look at the way the other boy’s lips close around the straw or the way his cheeks hollow as he sucks down his 2000 calorie milkshake. 

“Well, obviously I would love to be a world famous artist, but I want to teach art.  Either that or, I don’t know, design sets for movies.”  He grinned at himself.  “Or, failing that, I’ll have to find myself a sugar daddy and become a kept man.”

“Well,” said Yeosang, his expression thoughtful as it flickered over him assentingly.  “You are handsome, but I think you wouldn’t do well being a kept sugar baby.”

“And why is that?”

“You’re too restless. You don’t sit still.”

Seonghwa who’d just taken a mouthful of his toasted sandwich raised an eyebrow. “You’ve know me for five minutes.  How do you know I can’t sit still?”

“You’re always moving. Your hands especially. You’re drawing or tapping out music, even when you’re not meant to be.  Like now.”  Yeosang nodded to where his free hand was drawing circles on the table.  “I don’t think sugar babies are meant to be anything but quiet pliant little things who look pretty and who get fucked in the back seat of limos.”

Seonghwa tried his best not to choke on black coffee.  He tries his best not to think about Yeosang talking about anything related to sex.  Or being fucked.  He focussed on his sandwich. “Okay, so we’ve determined that you are a bit freaky what with the watching and the,” he gestures lamely.  “Everything, basically.  It’s weird. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be this weird.”

Yeosang smirked and it did things to Seonghwa’s insides. 

They’re quiet for a bit before he asks.  “And you? What’s the route you’re taking with your designs?”

“I have a five year plan,” Yeosang said, as if it explained everything. 

“Are you going to clue me in?”

“Nope.” 

Seonghwa does not watch Yeosang’s plush philtrum when he makes the ‘p’ in the nope.  

“Asshole.” But Seonghwa was smiling.  When he looked up, he caught Yeosang watching him. “What?”

“How did you guys all meet?”

“I met Mingi and San in high school. Hongjoong was dating San back then if you can call it dating.  They were more like, friends with benefits.” He grinned remembering.  “Then Yunho and Jongho sort of, fell in with us because of the music and the dancing.”

“But you sketch and paint?”

“But I’m minoring in dance too.”

Yeosang’s eyes sparked.  “Oh, I didn’t know.  That would explain it.”

“Explain what?”  Seonghwa wondered if Yeosang had meant to say the out loud, because a light blush had settled over his cheekbones.  “Yeosang?”

“Nothing.  Just.” He waved his hand, as if waving the words away.  “Ignore that. Were you sketching, earlier? In the library?”

Seonghwa froze.  “Uh, yes?” 

“Were you sketching me?” Yeosang wasn’t flirting with him, but there was something about the light frown between his dark brows, the soft pout of his lips, that makes Seonghwa swallow audibly. 

“Maybe?”

“Hmm.  I’m not sure if I should be flattered or worried about your stalker tendencies.”

“What?” Seonghwa huffed out loud.  “Stalker? What?”

“You were sketching at my workshop too, last night. Were you sketching me?”

“No.” It wasn’t a lie, entirely.  “I was sketching in general.”

“Show me.”  Not a question. A demand.  Yeosang’s hand hovered between them, palm up.  

Seonghwa dug in his bag and handed over the sketchbook he was drawing in the night before, not the one he was using in the library.  

Yeosang put the sketchbook down and carefully cleaned his hands, which Seonghwa appreciated, before picking it up again.  He paged carefully, examining each page with a critical eye, occasionally nodding. 

“You’re good, you asshole.” He spun the page around and showed Seonghwa the page he was hovering over.  It was one of his warmup sketches he’d done a while ago.  It was of a complete stranger, someone at college, he couldn’t even remember.  They guy had been sitting under a tree and Seonghwa had been caught by how lonely he’d looked, how thoughtful and far away.  He hadn’t been able to walk past.  He’d not sketched the guy’s face, hiding it slight shadow, so it was merely a suggestion.  “I hate you.”

Seonghwa laughed a little.  “Thanks, I guess?”

Yeosang’s frown deepened as he paged through the sketchbook until he came across the sketches Seonghwa had made the night before. 

“You love your friends,” he said.  “You draw them often.” He showed him the sketch of Mingi and San, hanging off one another.  They were quick small sketches. He paged and stopped.  “I really look like this?”

“What?” Seonghwa made a grab for the sketchbook but Yeosang leaned back, out of reach.  

“You make me look…”

“What?” Seonghwa had no idea what Yeosang was going about.  Last night’s sketches weren’t anything serious.  Quick fun things, nothing to elicit a response like that.

“Interesting.” Yeosang handed him the sketchbook back, his eyes very dark.  “You make me look interesting.  Like someone.” 

Seonghwa opened the sketchbook and stared at the quick character study.  He’d caught Yeosang in mid-motion, talking and frowning at something one of the others had said.  

“Well, you are someone interesting,” Seonghwa said, trying not the let the fact that he liked Yeosang bleed through into his voice.  “I like sketching you.  You’re very expressive. You have great lines.”

Yeosang’s expression was nonplussed.  “I have great lines?” He pressed a finger against his chest.  “Me?”

Seonghwa snorted.  “Are you fishing for compliments? How many times have you told me and the others we’re good looking? That we’ll make your clothes look good?  If you can recognise beautify in others, you have to know you are just as good looking.”

“Well.” Yeosang’s hands are curled together on the table in front of him and he didn’t quite meet the other’s eyes as he parsed the words.  “I just, am not sure what to make of that?”

Seonghwa blinked.  The other boy was blushing and looked flustered.  Flustered looked so fucking good on him. Seonghwa wanted to reach out and press a thumb to his bottom lip that’s suffused with so much colour.  He had no colour in his studio that would match it, he was sure of it.  “Are you blushing?”  He sat closer, elbows on the table, staring intently.  Maybe staring a little too intently.  “Fuck, Yeosang. Has no one ever told you how achingly pretty you are?”

The head shake was almost imperceptible and then those hazel eyes met his and his heart almost stopped. “What are you doing?”

And Seonghwa had no idea what he was doing because he wanted, no he needed to tell this aloof boy how he made him feel, how he ached, impossibly, to just touch him.  But something in the way Yeosang held himself, how he looked scared made him hold back.  He breathed heavily through his mouth. 

“I, fuck, I don’t know.  You make me say and do stupid shit.  I’m sorry.”

The silence between them drew out longer, but it’s not uncomfortable.  It’s something else.  Something with weight. 

“I can’t be in a relationship,” Yeosang said, his voice very low, raw almost.  “Do you understand? It doesn’t fit with what I’m planning for my life.”

Seonghwa was nodding but really, he didn’t understand.  He didn’t want to understand.  So he faked understanding if it meant that that hunted expression in Yeosang’s eyes would go away. 

“I’m sorry, Seonghwa. And thank you for the compliment.” Yeosang’s lips twisted in a wry smile.  “I fucked this up, made it weird and I’m sorry.”

“What? No, you didn’t fuck anything up.”

“Please, I’ve just made it all so bloody weird. I reacted like a blushing virgin. Jesus.” He shook his head.  “How can I expect you or your friends to still do me the favour of walking for me? It’ll be too weird.”

“Hey, no wait.” Seonghwa’s heart was knocking against his ribs so hard now, he was sure Yeosang could hear it.  “This is on me.  I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.  I didn’t mean to. Don’t change things now, because of me.  Honestly, I’ll stay out of your way.  You’ve got the boys and they really like your clothes. San hasn’t stopped raving about you.  So.” He spread his hands.  “I’m afraid, you’re stuck with them even if you don’t want them.”

“You make them sound like a disease.”

“Not a disease.  More like fungus. Once they’ve taken hold, you can’t get rid of them.”

It felt like it took a hundred years but Yeosang gives a small nod, that frown between his brows. He glanced at Seonghwa before glancing away, back down to his hands where they’re twisted together on the table in front of him. 

“I feel like I should explain.”

Seonghwa shook his head. “No, honestly.  You don’t have to.  I overstepped. I made you uncomfortable. It’s all on me.”

Yeosang pressed his mouth into a line that said quite clearly he didn’t like what he was saying but he nodded. 

“But,” he said.  “Here’s the thing.”

“I’m listening.” Seonghwa wiped crumbs off his fingers and moved the plate out of the way.  “All ears.”

“If the boys walk for me, I want you to too.”

“Even if I’m an asshole?”

“Well, we established that you were an asshole within the first five seconds of meeting, so…” 

Seonghwa laughs.  “Yeah, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.  But I’m telling you now, to your face because you weren’t listening when I was talking to the others last night.  It’s not going to be easy.  It’s hard work.  I’m an absolutely bitch when it comes to doing things right,” Yeosang said.  “And I’m going to drill you guys on how to walk properly.”

“Dancers,” Seonghwa said.  “We’ll cope.”

Well, he thought, as he smiled at Yeosang.  That was almost a disaster.  But it was early days still. He was sure he was going to fuck it up. 

“So,” Yeosang said.  

“So,” he responded.  

“Do you still need me to sit for you?”  And the way he asks it, leaves Seonghwa wondering what to answer.  He sounded tentative, scared.  If he answered yes, would he come across as weird again? If he said no, he’d sound like an asshole and probably hurt the guy’s feelings. 

“I am happy to let it go, but honestly? Yes, I’d like it.  Very much.”

“Fine, quid pro quo then.  I sit for you, you walk for me.”

“Uh, great. Sure, wow, okay.” Seonghwa mentally did a fist pump.  “You’d have to come to my studio though.”

“Sure, I mean.  I can bring my stuff around and we can work around our schedules.”

“Amazing.”  He pulled out his phone.  “I’ll send you the address.  It’s not as fancy as your workshop but I get to throw paint around without anyone telling me off.”

And it is amazing, because Yeosang almost smiles.  But there’s something between them now, something tentative and Seonghwa likes it.  He’ll grab it with both hands. 

Chapter Text

Wooyoung was baking when Yeosang got home.  Wooyoung couldn’t cook to save his life but the boy could bake.  Yeosang walked into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast nook, taking in the chocolate cake, the brownies, the blueberry muffins, and lemon drizzle cake.  Wooyoung was mixing more batter to the side, clutching at the bowl. 

“So, you’re still freaked out?” He prompts his best friend who, the moment he heard Yeosang enter, had put the kettle on for some coffee.  

“I am. But this,” he gestured to the cakes.  “This is for you.  To say thanks.  For letting me cry all over you last night.  I know you don’t do cuddles so, it means a lot.”

Yeosang doesn’t say anything.  He accepts the coffee which has a swirl of hazelnut syrup in it with a happy sigh. 

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?”  He stares at his best friend. “You were gone last night.”

Wooyoung carefully set aside the bowl and leaned towards him over the counter.  He prodded a finger at the plate with the chocolate brownies.  “These are especially good.” 

Yeosang dutifully took one and bit into the square.  Taste exploded.  He hummed. 

“Let’s make a deal.  If you’re not married by you’re forty, you marry me,” he tells Wooyoung, and the other boy gives a delighted evil cackle. 

“Please, bro.  Have you seen this ass? By the time I’m forty I’ll be on my second marriage.”

“That is oddly specific,” Yeosang pointed out, licking his fingers and reaching for a blueberry muffin. 

“But you know, I’d still marry you out of pity.  Because I am a good friend.”

“Who says I won’t be married by then?”

“Will you?”

Yeosang stilled as he chewed on the muffin.  “No,” he says around a mouthful.  “No, you’re right. I won’t be married.  I’m not getting married, ever.”

“Wait, what?” Wooyoung leaned closer to peer at him.  “You’re kidding right?”

“You’re deflecting.” Yeosang shoved the remaining piece of muffin in his face. “Tell me what happened yesterday?”

“So, you know the kid I’m tutoring?” Wooyoung said, after a long drawn out moment where he stared at Yeosang too hard.  “Well, he’s such a heterosexual. But fuck he’s pretty.  Like, like just he’s delicious.  He wears these button downs, and chinos.  I mean, what the fuck, right? Who wears chinos unless they are middle aged men?  And he has this mouth and these big eyes?  Like, I could stare into them for days and die happy.”

“Wait, back up.  Kid? Why are you calling him ‘kid’? How old is he?  Jesus, Wooyoung, if you’re messing with a minor I am not bailing your ass out of jail.”

“What? No, Yeosang.  Fuck, I’m not a pervert.  He’s in college, first year.  He’s like twenty.  Jesus, you weirdo.  It’s just…he looks so fresh and pretty.  And he does dress in these pastel little jumpers and it makes me want to tear my hair out.”

“So, you like him?”

“So fucking much, it brings me pain.”

“And he’s heterosexual?” 

“Well, I think so? Like, he’s never said anything different? But his room looks het? Like, it’s very stylised. And he has photos of women in his bedroom? Like celebrities? So I guess he’s het?”

Yeosang tries not to point out that his room is stylised and yet, he’s definitely not straight.  But Wooyoung likes the drama, so he nods along anyway. 

“And you kissed? Did he punch you in the dick?”

Wooyoung clatters the mixing bowl back onto the counter.  “No, but listen.  So, we’re at his apartment okay? He shares it with another guy, who’s a friend from school.  They go to uni together or something.  But the guy is out, doing whatever it is that he does when I’m there to tutor him.  And we’re sitting there, talking about the impact Chaucer has had on the west and it was so intense and then, we were just leaning towards one another and we kissed.  It was like everything, Yeosang.  I want to fucking gay marry this boy.”

“What did he do?  Did he kiss you back or did he run screaming?”

“Well, he kissed me back.  For quite a while actually.  And then the front door opened and his friend got home and he just, he fucking ran way from me? And his friend just stared at me and I packed up my shit and came home.”

Yeosang drank his coffee in silence and Wooyoung picked up his mixing bowl.  In the background he was aware of music playing.  It made him think of the night before, with the Seonghwa and his friends, how they danced and talked and included him, even though he was a complete stranger.  

“So, have you spoken to him today?”

“What? No.  Jesus, Yeosangie, why would I do that? The kid ran away from me the second his roommate came home.  Obviously he’s…”

“You are an asshole, Wooyoung, let me tell you that.”  Yeosang pressed a finger against his chest.  “I am emotionally repressed, I know that for a fact.  I struggle with intimacy and people.  You, on the other hand do not.  You love everyone and everyone loves you, because you are a nice guy.  Did you stop to think for one second that this boy is maybe not as het as you think he is? Or that he’s not out yet? Or that he’s out and he’s just scared?” He drew a breath.  “Or that he likes you so much that he ran away when you kissed him because he didn’t know what else to do?”

Wooyoung was pouting, his shoulders slumped. 

“When did you grow up, Yeosang? When did you become the fucking adult in the room?”

“I have always been wise beyond my years,” he pointed out.  He found Wooyoung’s phone on the counter and pushed it towards him.  “Fucking call him.  Don’t text him.”

“I will, once I’ve got the loaf in the oven.” 

Wooyoung turned around and started ladling the batter into a prepared bread tin.  Yeosang waited until he saw his friend was no longer paying attention to him and swiped the code he knew Wooyoung used into the phone, found his messages where he’d been texting this kid.  He laughed when he saw the name with the thirsty emoji next to his name. 

He wasn’t a perv and didn’t read the message but instead he just pressed ‘yes’ to dial this number and waited for it to connect.  It rang twice before it was answered.  The voice on the other side sounded tentative, rushed and a little soft. 

“Is this,” he glanced at the name.  “Is this Jongho?”

Wooyoung’s head swung around, hand on the bread tin, his eyes wide in shock.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” He hissed, quickly dropping the tin and skittering around the island to get to Yeosang who stood up, backing away from him. 

“Yes, but this isn’t Wooyoung.”

“Sorry, it’s not. But I’m a good friend of his.  His best friend basically.”

“I am going to kill you, bro,” Wooyoung hisses, slapping at Yeosang’s outstretched arm.  “Give me my phone.”

Yeosang kicked at Wooyoung, connecting with a shin and the boy gave an angry yell, propelling himself forward. 

“Why are you calling me? Why is there an angry peacock shrieking in the background?”

“The angry peacock is my best friend.  Listen carefully: he likes you but he’s an asshole.  I am going to lock him in his room and you are going to talk to him to sort out whatever happened between you.”  Yeosang stepped into Wooyoung’s space, startling him, enough that he stilled so that Yeosang could grab his shirt, pivot him and shove him into his bedroom. 

“Are you okay with that?” He said into the phone, watching as Wooyoung went flailing backwards onto his bed.  

“Yes.”  Yeosang grinned.  He liked this kid.  He sounded determined.  

“Great, good luck.”  With that he tossed the phone at Wooyoung, found the key on the inside of the door, pulled it out and slammed the door shut and locked it.  “You can come out only when you’ve given him my number to tell me to let you out!” He yells before retreating to the kitchen. 

He finished up his coffee, turned the music louder, and sat down at the table with his essay.  He worked on it till his phone buzzed on the table. 

Unknown Number

This is Jongho.  We talked. 

Yeosang

And? Does he get to leave his room this decade?

Jongho

Yes, but give him a few minutes.  He was crying. 

Thank you, hyung. 

Yeosang

I didn’t do anything.  He was going to call you.  I just made him do it sooner. 

Jongho

He kissed me. It really scared me. I didn't know he liked me LIKE THAT.

Yeosang closed his eyes as he read the words. He didn’t need anyone else confiding in him. He could do without it. 

Yeosang

Wooyoung sometimes doesn’t think his actions through.  He’s not a bad guy.  But he does act before he thinks sometimes. 

Jongho

I like that about him.  He makes me laugh tho.  We’re okay now, I think. So thanks. 

Yeosang 

Great.  Well, he’s baked a shit ton of stuff.  So make sure you see him soon so you can enjoy the fruits of his endless stressing. 

(Pic attached)

Jongho

I did not expect that.  I am calling him right now to bring me some.  Like, tonight. OmG, are those BROWNIES adfadfadgadgadghy

Yeosang grinned at that.   He knew his audience. He waited until he could hear Wooyoung’s voice in the room behind him again.  It was low and soft.  

Yeosang

You’re welcome!

“Let me out of my room, you goddamn asshole!” Wooyoung’s voice was accompanied by his door being rattled almost off its hinges. 

Yeosang unlocked his door and stepped aside as Wooyoung hurtled past him, pulling on a hoodie.  “The loaf needs to go in the oven.  Twenty minutes.  Set a timer.  I’m taking stuff for my bae.”

He watched in amusement as Wooyoung stuffed baked goods randomly into Tupperware containers, shove them into his backpack and run for the door.  But before he leaves he pops his head around the corner, and fixes Yeosang with a look. 

“I hate you.  But I also love you.  Don’t wait up.”

“Be safe.  Three fingers prep at least, use a condom and lots of lube.  Make healthy choices!” 

There’s a noise that sounds like a strangled cat and Wooyoung falling over his own feet.  “Fuck you, bro.” 

Yeosang grinned as the door slammed shut behind him.  He turned back to the kitchen, popped the banana loaf in the oven and set the timer on his phone.  

***

Yeosang felt more nervous than he should as he made his way to Seonghwa’s studio two days later.  He’d handed in the essay he had been working on and the relief had felt immense.  He’d spent the rest of the time he had freed up hunting for fabrics in the city and people watching. The one thing about it being a college town, meant it held endless fascinating people who chose to dress differently.  It was one of his favourite things to do, hazelnut latte in hand, sketchbook in the other, just getting ideas of shapes, of what people wore well and more importantly, what people wore badly. 

Seonghwa answered the door to his studio and he looked…for the want of a better word, wrecked.  It looked like he’d not slept since he’d seen him.  He was dressed in denim overalls and no shirt.  One leg of the overalls was rolled up and more than the stretch of bare skin showing his wide shoulders and angular collarbones, it was the one calf exposed that drew Yeosang’s attention. 

“You’re here,” Seonghwa said, sounding surprised. Then: “Shit, you’re here.  I’m sorry, I got carried away. I’ve not…” He gestured over his shoulder.  “I’ve not tidied up.  But come inside.”

Yeosang kicked up his longboard and brushed past the other boy.  The smell of paint and thinners and masculine boy hit his noise and he faltered for a second. 

“Just, dump your bag wherever.  It’s fine.” Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair and Yeosang watched intently as the muscles in his arms shifted.  He had paint on his hands, and arms.  And some flecks in his dark hair too.  

Yeosang drew his eyes away from him reluctantly and looked around the room. His breath hitched in his throat.   The studio wasn’t as big as his workshop, but it was still a great space.  Open.  There were large windows, letting in a lot of light and above them was a glass ceiling.  

“It’s great isn’t it? It belongs to the university. From like the last century or something.  It sat abandoned for a while until some art students decided to turn it into studios.”

“It’s great,” Yeosang said, walking further into the room. It was organised similarly to his space.  Art supplies, paints, paint brushes, a variety of fresh canvasses in various sizes.propped against one wall.  What he didn’t expect was the wall of books.  He let his fingers drift over the spines.  Modern art, classical, impressionism, there were books about sculpture, about mixed media.  

“Can I get you something to drink?” 

“Water, thanks.”  Yeosang clicked his fingers.  “Before I forget.  I brought you something.  My roommate baked.” He pulled out a plastic tub.  “He bakes when he stresses.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa said, looking surprised.  “That’s great, thanks.  I’ve not eaten today.  I just realised.  I’m starving.”

“That’s stupid.” Yeosang put the lid on the selection of baked goods so fast Seonghwa yelped, pulling his hand back just as he was reaching for a muffin. 

“The fuck?” 

“It’s six.  You need to eat dinner.  What do you want?” Yeosang pulled his phone out, frown pulling his brows together.  “My treat.”

They order Thai. 

Yeosang wanders around the studio some more whilst they wait.  There’s a painting on the easel but its covered with a light cloth.  

“What are you working on?”

“A commission.  There’s a new startup opening in a few days and they wanted something for the reception.”

“Can I look?”  Yeosang gestured at the painting.  “But it’s okay if you don’t want to show me?”

“No, it’s fine.  It’s just, it’s abstract so it’s not to everyone’s taste.”

“I like abstract art. I like art.” Yeosang gestured to the cloth.  “But you show me.”

The boy stepped past him, again, so close he could feel the heat of his body as he passed and Yeosang unconsciously shifted into the space beside him, in front of the easel, closer than he would have normally.  Seonghwa twitched the cloth off and Yeosang fell in love. 

He had no idea what it was, but he loved it. He pressed his nose close, then stepped a few steps back.  Then further.  He drank up the colours, the feel of the painting, and he could feel something settle in his chest, letting him breathe.  He moved so he could get a side-view of the canvas, noticing how Seonghwa had somehow made it look dimensional.  

He must have been very quiet for some time because Seonghwa clattered his brushes into a jar filled with water, drawing his attention briefly.    

“What do you think?”  An eyebrow quirked,  lower lip caught between his teeth.  He suddenly looked young and uncertain. 

“I don’t know,” Yeosang answered honestly, watching the swirl of colours, trying to see.  “I have no idea what it is, but I like it.  I love the colours.  The…” he gestured, turning to Seonghwa.  “The composition? It makes me feel happy, drawn in. Like it wants me to visit and stay.”

Seonghwa turned to look at his canvas, humming.  “You see that?”

Yeosang frowned, walking closer again.  “Is it done?”

“I’ll finish it tomorrow.”

“Can you show it to me once its done?”

“Sure, of course.” 

Yeosang nodded, satisfied. He walked away so he could flick through some completed canvases.  He pulled out a few that he liked, turning them face out so he could look at them.  Seonghwa went ahead cleaning his brushes, watching him from the corner of his eye. 

“I like your art, you know? Colourful, vibrant.  You’re really very good at drawing the human form.”  Yeosang spun one of the canvases around.  It was a nude of a woman seated in a garden.  It was a side view and she had her feet tucked to the side, showing off the elegant lines of her neck, the slope of her breast and the curve of her waist. 

“Another friend who sat for you?”

Seonghwa grinned.  “Yes, another friend.” 

“Lucky girl,” Yeosang said but his tone was thoughtful.  “So, how do you want me?”

***

Seonghwa choked on air, fumbled his brushes and grabbed for his stool to stop himself falling over. He straightened hastily, brushed his wet hands over the bib and stared at Yeosang blankly for a second. 

“Oh initially?” Get a fucking grip, he told himself. “Just grab a seat and sit here.  Do you need to use the loo, any water or?”

“I’m all good, thanks.  I’ve got an online class I want to listen to, is that okay?”

“Of course.”

They take a few minutes to set up the bluetooth speaker so that Yeosang could listen to the online class.  Once that was done, Seonghwa pulled a low bench forward.  He rummaged through a large crate of blankets and cushions, before handing them to Yeosang. 

“That bench gets uncomfortable after a while,” he said.  “So, this should help.”

“Just like this?” Yeosang gestured to himself.  “You okay with the shirt?”

Seonghwa glanced at the basic black t-shirt with the screen-printed word SAVAGE on it and nodded.  

“These are preliminary sketches, you’ll be fine.”

They eat quickly as the food arrives and it’s weirdly, okay, the quiet.  Seonghwa can feel himself relaxing.  They make smalltalk, which Seonghwa has never really been good at.  He can sense Yeosang is relaxing too.  There’s less of him frowning and more of him looking a little thoughtful and his shoulders seem near his ears, as if he was bracing himself for an attack. 

“So what do you do for fun?” Seonghwa asks him.  “Like, how do you relax?”

“I skateboard.” Yeosang glances at his longboard.  “I learned from my dad.”

“Your dad?” Seonghwa’s grin was wide.  “That is so cool.”

“Yeah, it was.  He was a good guy.”

Past tense. Seonghwa wanted to ask more, but before he could Yeosang stands.  “Okay, let’s do this.” He wipes his mouth and fingers.  “I don’t want to take up your whole night.”

Seonghwa nods, packing the food containers up and dumping them.  He feels a little bereft.  The frown is back between Yeosang’s brows and he wants to just reach over and smooth the skin between them a little. 

It’s remarkably easy to sketch Yeosang, for real.  Not sneaking glances, no furtive sketches.  He has good clean lines and Seonghwa falls into a rhythm, lulled by the lecturer’s voice as he drones on about something or the other he barely pays attention to.  Yeosang moves and shifts his position as per Seonghwa’s quiet requests and something stutters in Seonghwa’s chest when he notices how well Yeosang takes direction.  He’s not into role-play or BDSM that much, but he’s experimented, okay and he’s a little dumbstruck by how easily Yeosang follows his firm commands.  “Lift your chin, part your lips, tilt you head back, close your eyes.”

The two hour lecture goes by in a flash.  By the time it does, Seonghwa knows exactly how he’s going to paint Yeosang.  He’s just not sure what the other boy would make of it.  

“Can I see?” Yeosang asks after stretching his limbs and arching his back, making soft grumbling noises about holding poses for too long.  

“Sure,” Seonghwa says, stepping aside from the A2 sketchpad.  “I’ve done various studies, drawn a few poses.”

Yeosang stays quiet for the longest time.  He became aware of how close they were standing, not touching, but he could feel the heat from Yeosang’s body against his naked arm.  

“You kinda freak me out,” Yeosang eventually mutters, turning away and god, they almost touch. “You make me look like me but not? I can’t explain it.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can…we don’t have to do this.  I can ask someone else?”

“No, it’s fine.  It’s just, unexpected.  I’m not used to being seen.”

Seonghwa doesn’t know what to make of that at all. Yeosang looks uncertain as he glances between the sketches. 

“Sorry, I sound weird.  I like them.  I like your art.  So would you need me again?”

It’s on the tip of Seonghwa’s tongue to tell him that yes, he’d need to see him again when the studio’s door bursts open with a crash and fuck when what the hell? 

“Hello, fuckers!” Mingi yells, dragging San behind him.  “We’re here to invade and conquer.  And drag you off dancing.”

Yeosang looks like he wants to faint and Seonghwa steps between him and his friends. 

“What the fuck, guys?” He yells at them, more to give Yeosang time to get himself together.  “Why are you even here?”

“Dancing, we gotta go dancing!” Mingi yells, tackling him in a hug, smothering him against his chest.  San just smirks at him and turns to look at Yeosang. 

“Nice t-shirt, bro.”

“Thanks, San,” Yeosang says, his voice quiet.  “I made it myself.”

“Of course you fucking did,” Mingi says, pulling away from Seonghwa and rounding on Yeosang, clapping him on the shoulder.  “Do you also do the,” he gestures to Yeosang’s chest. “Words?”

“Yes.”

“Epic.  Will you do some for us? For the team? We’ve got a showcase coming up in a few weeks?”

“Yes, of course.” Yeosang gently steps out of Mingi’s space and starts putting his stuff together.  “Just tell me the sizes, and how many and I’ll let you know the price.”

“You’re going to charge us?” Mingi’s voice, never the softest, deepens in mortification.  “But we’re friends!”

“That’s why I won’t be charging you what I charge the cheerleaders,” Yeosang deadpans.  “Because we’re friends.”

“Bro!” San claps his hands together.  “He has to charge.  It’s good business.”

“Plus, it’s my time, my labour, my products I’m using.”

Mingi goes full on pout-mode and Seonghwa has seen grown men fall for that look.  But Yeosang only stares at him, his gaze suddenly very cold and withdrawn.  

“Or you can go to the shop in town who do a shit job with mass produced t-shirts that will disintegrate in the first wash,” he points out, ruthlessly. 

San hooks an arm over Mingi’s shoulders and presses a kiss against his temple. 

“It’s okay, babe. I’ll help you convince the professor.”

“Ugh, fine.” 

San slaps him on the ass.  “But for now, let’s go party!”

“Guys I’m not sure I’m going to go,” Seonghwa says, glancing at the easel with the prepared canvas.  “I need to paint.”

“And I need to go away,” Yeosang says, looping his backpack over his shoulder.  “Like, not be near you lot at all.  You are damaging my calm.”  But there’s no vitriol in his tone, just a strange look that almost looks like he wants to smile. 

They argue for a few more minutes and Seonghwa watches as Yeosang sticks to his guns, and just as he’s about to step in,  Mingi and San relent, reluctantly, withdrawing a promise from Yeosang that next time he’d join them. 

To Seonghwa’s horror, he finds himself with San and Mingi, never really able to say no to them or to dancing.  Nothing says he couldn’t come back to the studio to paint after dancing. His need to paint Yeosang feels a physical thing. 

Chapter Text

Yeosang goes dark.  He works all hours the gods have given him when he’s not in class.  He barely sees anyone and falls into bed in the small hours of the morning and wakes up to have a quick shower and then head to class, before going back to his workshop. 

His designs are taking shape and he is liking where his vision is going.  It helps that he’s taken photos of the four boys for reference so he knows how the fabric would fit and drape across them.  

It’s been a week and a half since he’d seen anyone or spoken to anyone who wasn’t his professor.  He knows Wooyoung is alive because he gets obnoxious updates from his roommate with selcas of him and his ‘bae’ as he refers to Jongho and it would have made Yeosang gag if he didn’t find it endearing. 

When the knock came, it startled him our of his thoughts. He sat back in his chair and dropped both hands to his lap, blinking away the bright light of the sewing machine’s guide light he’d been staring at for too long.   The warehouse’s security guard, Mike, made a point of checking in on him when he did his rounds and spotted his light on.  Yeosang appreciated it.  It usually worked as a reminder too, that he needed to pack up and head home. 

He stood and stretched before he opened the door, expecting to see the middle-aged guard but instead Seonghwa was there, leaning against the door, one arm against the doorjamb with his forehead pressed against it.  His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Yeosang and he straightened.

“Oh, you’re here.”

“Surprise?” Yeosang tried not to stare at Seonghwa.  They’d not seen one another for what felt like a long time but had been just over a week, he was sure. He’d not reached out to him or any of the others, ignoring the messages on the group chat.  He needed distance from them, and especially from this artist boy who saw him so very well. He didn’t know what to make of the hot curl of pure want in the pit of his stomach when Seonghwa looked at him with those big dark eyes. Yeosang was not a stranger to sex, or to doing stupid things, so he stayed well away from temptation.  Seonghwa was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make.  But having him here, in his space was nice.  And he looked good.  He was dressed casually in a black biker jacket, t-shirt and skinny jeans and he looked sexy as hell.  Yeosang had to make as much space between them immediately before he could reach out and touch.  

Seonghwa’s smile was wide as he brushed past him, still somehow closer than he should be, given how much Yeosang had moved out of the way. 

“You’ve not been around much,” he said.  “I spoke to your roommate and he said you’ve been working late.”

Of course it turned out that the Jongho Wooyoung started dating was in fact the dance crew’s Jongho and somehow his friend and roommate had become part of a messy friend group. 

Yeosang closed the door and watched as Seonghwa took in the rack of clothes and the shirt he was working on that was still stuck in the sewing machine. 

“Yeah, I wanted to get as much done as I could. I have to head back home in a few weeks.  It is my grandfather’s birthday.”

“Oh right? Sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, not so much, really.”  Yeosang pulled one of the high stools over for Seonghwa to sit on.  

Seonghwa shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the table behind him.  He leaned back, elbows on the table, legs spread as he watched Yeosang sit back down behind the sewing machine.  

“Do you mind? I just want to get this finished.  I don’t like leaving things half-done.”

“No, go ahead.  I came by to see if you wanted to grab dinner afterwards, anyway.”

Yeosang glanced at him in surprise.  He didn’t know if he could spend more time along with Seonghwa before, well, before wanting him all over again.  But instead of saying no, he felt himself nodding.  “Yes, thanks.  I’d like that.”

“Great.” Seonghwa grinned looking pleased. “I worried when you just dropped off the face of the world. You haven’t been answering your texts either.”

“Too much chat on the group chat,” he replied, going back to sewing.  “It makes me feel claustrophobic.  And they’re talking about stuff I don’t know anything about, so it just is alienating.”

Seonghwa nodded.  “Yeah, I can see that.  I’ll get San to take you off the chat then.”

“No, that would make things awkward.”

“I didn’t think you’d care about making things awkward for anyone,” Seonghwa said and his tone was teasing.  

Yeosang couldn’t help the flush that crept up his cheeks.  “Do you think I’m that heartless?” 

“No, I just think you’re sometimes a little too focussed and forget to human.”

“Forget to human?” Yeosang frowned and thought about it.  “Well, I suppose you’re not wrong.  But I can’t afford to be distracted.”

“Why not? Wooyoung says you never go out.  You’re always working or studying.”

“I’m not really here to get the full college experience.  Wooyoung can’t understand that. He’s here to party, get laid, pass a few grades, and start working in his dad’s company.  I can’t afford to take the risks he’s taking.”

“Risks? He’s having fun.”

“Hmm,” Yeosang said, manoeuvring the fabric under the needle.  “I am not saying that what he’s doing is wrong.  It’s just that he’s not me.”

Silence falls after that and Yeosang became aware of Seonghwa moving around behind him.  There’s the sound of the kettle and before long a mug is pressed into his hand. 

“Green tea,” Seonghwa says before disappearing again.  Yeosang drinks it and reaches behind him to put it on the table and would have missed entirely but Seonghwa was there to take the mug from him. 

It’s an hour later when Yeosang finished the shirt and he straightens with a groan.  He snips the threads and turns the shirt the right way round to look at it.  The fabric is a soft silk in a tangle of pooled metallic colours.  

“Wow,” Seonghwa said, looking up from his phone and Yeosang startles.  It wasn’t that he’d entirely forgotten about the other boy, but he’d been so quiet he thought he’d fallen asleep.  “That looks great.  Can I try it?”

Yeosang flushed, flattered.  “Sure.”

Seonghwa pulled his t-shirt off without any warning and reached for the shirt and caught it from Yeosang’s suddenly limp fingers.  

“So, how does it button up?” Seonghwa had shrugged the shirt on over his shoulders and stared down at what obviously too much fabric.  He bunched the fabric in front of his chest and pulled it away.  “What are these for?” He frowned at the straps.  “Yeosang?”

Yeosang tore his gaze away from prominent collarbones, a smooth strong chest and up to Seonghwa’s dark eyes.  He refused to blush.  This was nothing. Seonghwa was beautiful and nothing about this should be awkward. 

“How do I-?” 

“Oh, like this.”  Yeosang breathed heavily through his nose and told himself to calm the the fuck down. “Can I-? Do you mind?  Just let go of the fabric.”

He stepped into the other boy’s space, bringing the one side of the fabric across, buttoning it up, before bringing the other flap over his chest.  Seonghwa let himself be manoeuvred, keeping his chin up so that Yeosang didn’t hit it with the top of his.  

Yeosang tied the shirt off to the side, letting the silk straps fall down along Seonghwa’s thigh.  He stepped back and nodded.  

“Nice.” Yeosang frowned.  “Keep your arms up.  Can you spin?”

Seonghwa flushed under the words but he held his arms out to his side and did a slow turn. 

“Stop.”  Yeosang stepped closer and straightened the shirt, smoothing it down Seonghwa’s back and tugging at the wide straps so that they lay flush.   “Okay, again.”

Seonghwa spun again.  

“What does it feel like?” Yeosang asked him.  “Can you move?”  Yeosang watched as Seonghwa rolled his shoulders and flexed his lats. 

“Yeah, there’s nothing constricting movement.”  He runs a hand down his chest, fingering the fabric.  “I love the look of this.  It’s like…the colour gasoline makes when it tries to mix with water.”

“Yes, exactly.” Yeosang was charmed by the description.  He raked his eyes over Seonghwa’s shoulders.  “You make the design look good.  Go look at yourself in the mirror.”

Yeosang turned back to his sewing machine, putting his scissors away, and tidying up the space before turning the machine off.   Seonghwa was still standing in front of the mirror so Yeosang walked towards him, catching his gaze in the reflection. 

“What do you think?” 

“I think that you are very talented.” 

“Hmm,” Yeosang said.  “Competition is stiff, so here’s hoping the designers attending the show will think so too.” 

“Are you done?” Seonghwa asked him.  “Are you ready for food?”

“Yes. I’m starving, but you’re not going in that.  I can’t risk it getting dirty.”

“I wasn’t going to, give me some credit.”  Seonghwa fiddled with the tie at his waist and gave an exasperated groan.  “What the hell, Yeosang.  What kind of knot is this anyway?”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare tear the fabric I will end you.” Yeosang batted his hands away and undid the knot, unwinding the fabric easily.  “You can manage the buttons yourself, right?”

Seonghwa nodded and passed the shirt back over to him before reaching for his t-shirt and pulling it on.  Yeosang is sad, only for a moment to see all that lush pale skin disappear under the stretch of cotton.  He hung the shirt up on the railing and gave a satisfied little nod.  He was making progress. 

He took a quick look around his workshop, made sure everything was turned off, before grabbing his board and backpack and ushering Seonghwa out.  He locked up and they left the warehouse.  He let Seonghwa steer them to an open eatery midway between the workshop and the dorm.  

“I appreciate this, thanks,” he said as they settled down after placing their order at the counter.  “I get so wrapped up in my head sometimes I forget to eat.”

“Yeah, same.  That’s why I set alarms on my phone or when I know I’m going to be busy, I ask San to call me so I remember to move around and get food.”

“Ah, that’s clever.”  Yeosang took a long drag of his soda.  “How is your stuff coming along for your exhibition?”

“Eh, they’re coming along.  I have some stuff in storage too that I can grab to show.”  Seonghwa dug out his phone from his pocket.  “Take a photo of this so you can remember to come along.”

Yeosang dutifully took a picture of the invitation on the screen.  It was two weeks away.  “Do I need to RSVP or…?” 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll put your name on the door.”

“Fancy.” 

Seonghwa gives him a slow smirk and Yeosang’s heart gives a little tumble.  “You know it, babe.”

Yeosang rolls his eyes and shakes his head.  “You’re so lame,” he says, but he quirks his lips a little, to show that he did find it amusing.  “How’s the showcase coming along?”

“Well, I think? I came from the dance studio to yours earlier. Hongjoong is working with Wooyoung and they’re putting music together for the show. They’re also talking about the music for the fashion show.  They’ve watched so many dressmaking videos, fashion show videos and MV’s that I have lost count.  But Wooyoung seems good at what he does.”

“He is.  People tell me he is but I’ve not really had the chance to listen to much of what he produces.” He takes a sip of his drink. “But I made the t-shirts for the dance crew though. I can swing by and drop them off whenever?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great, thanks.  We meet most nights after class.  Come by any time.” 

“Great.”  

Their food arrives and Yeosang realises he is famished.  He goes about systematically demolishing what’s on his plate, making little contented noises as he starts filling up.  He glances up to find Seonghwa looking at him, his expression a little odd. 

“Wha?” 

“You are humming whilst you’re eating,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

“I was? Sorry, I didn’t realise.  I just am hungry suddenly.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just you are being unexpectedly cute.”

“Cute?”  Yeosang arches a brow.  “Did you just call me cute?”

“Well, are you going to fight me for calling you cute?”

Yeosang purses his lips a little but then shakes his head.  “No, I’ll allow it, I think.  It’s a valid statement.  I am cute.”

Seonghwa’s laugh is genuinely amused and he looks so fond that Yeosang couldn’t help the light flush spreading across his cheeks. 

“Since when have you wanted to be an artist?” He asks instead, deflecting attention from himself once Seonghwa had stopped chuckling.

“I’ve always known. I’ve always been obsessed with drawing and painting. I stole my father’s work notebooks growing up and drew in them.  My grandmother bought me my first paints.  I’m lucky that they encouraged me.  How about you?  Have you always wanted to be a designer?”

Yeosang thought about it for a few moments.  “I’ve always wanted to prove myself.  Being a designer is one way to do that.  And it’s a way my family would understand who I am and what I’m capable of.”

Seonghwa didn’t miss the tightening of Yeosang’s face when he spoke about his family but it was gone before he could think to ask more. Instead Yeosang looked up at him thoughtfully.

“So you want to become a world famous artist?”

“I’m a dreamer, but I’m also realistic.” He grinned at Yeosang’s mock shocked expression. “I know we were talking shit the other day but honestly, what I want to do is teach art.  If I could one day afford to be more than that, I’d be happy.”

“I think you would be a great teacher,” Yeosang said.  “You have infinite patience with San and Mingi.  And Hongjoong listens to you.”

The observation made Seonghwa grin wide.  “I sometimes feel like a parent.”

“And at such a young age, I’m impressed.  How do you do it?”

“Alcohol and drugs,” Seonghwa deadpanned. Yeosang laughed then, loudly and Seonghwa forgot to eat, the food halfway to his mouth, as he stared at Yeosang in shock. 

“What, is something wrong? Do I have food on my face or-?” Yeosang’s hand flutters to his mouth, to his cheeks, wiping imaginary crumbs away.  “You’re still staring.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you laugh, hyung.  You should do it more often.  It suits you. You look beautiful.”

Yeosang stared at him for a few long silent seconds before ducking his head and looking away.  Only  Seonghwa didn’t look away.  He took his time to watch that light flush of embarrassment climb up Yeosang’s neck, staining his cheeks. He watched Yeosang try not to let it show, but the smallest of delighted smiles had settled around his full lips and only then did Seonghwa look away, back down at his food.

***

He walked Yeosang back to his dorm and it felt so old fashioned and sweet, especially because Yeosang seemed quietly pleased with himself.  Seonghwa didn’t know why it made him feel so good. He’s not a fuckboi but he’s not exactly chaste either and he liked sex and kissing but spending time with Yeosang who was always a little too serious, a little too aloof, made him feel good and a little high. 

He has also started planning out the sketch he had in mind of Yeosang and was keen to show him his thoughts.  But, he needed permission.  And he needed Yeosang to sit for him again. 

“So, I’m not sure how busy you are over the next few days but could you spare me maybe an afternoon?” 

“To sit for you again?”

“Yes. Would that be okay?”

“Of course.  I’ll check my schedule but I think I could do Friday? I’ll text you.”

“Great.” Seonghwa nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets because the need to reach out and touch Yeosang was becoming a real temptation.  “So, I guess I’ll speak to you later?”

“Sure.” 

Seonghwa turned around and started walking away. 

“Hey, Seonghwa?” 

He spun back around to find Yeosang staring at him.  His eyes were very dark and his lips very inviting.  

“Yeah?” 

“Just, thanks for checking in on me.  And for dinner.  I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no worries. You’re welcome.” He breathed the cool night air and decided fuckit. “I like spending time with you so it’s not a hassle.”

Yeosang moved, like he wanted to take a step towards him but then thought better of it and stopped. His shoulders sagged a little but the look he gave Seonghwa was searing. 

“I’ll message you later.  Safe home, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa waited until he disappeared into the building before he turned and walked away, a fat stupid grin on his face.  

***

Boy with the Face

Just got in. Thnx 4 having dinner w/me

Yeosang  

It was nice. Thanks.

……

I checked my schedule. 

Boy with the Face

Its ok if u can’t make it

I knwo your busy. 

Yeosang

I said I’d do it. No take backsies.

I’ll see you at two?

This Friday?

Boy with the Face

Yes! 

Yes, perfect. It’s a date 

No, shit. Not a date 

An appointment.

Yeosang

;-) 

It’s an appointment then. 

Do you need me to wear anything specific?

….

….

….

Seonghwa? 

U still there?

Hello?

Boy with the Face

Sorry, just died for a minute. 

Choked on air 

But am ok

….

….

So, I was wondering if you had a black shirt. 

Yeosang

My entire wardrobe is black

Like my heart

You gotta be more specific, Seonghwa

Boy with the Face

Fine. Do you have a black silk button down shirt?

And maybe a collar?

Is that specific enough?

…..

…..

…..

Shit, was it too specific?

Yeosangie?

Are you freaked out?

Yeosang

(img attached)

Like these?

Sorry, I took  long to answer back. 

Had to take the stuff out of the boxes in my room. 

ofc next time I’ll wear them. The shirt needs washing first.

Boy with the Face

Holy shit. 

Yes, that wld do

Yeosang

The collar is not something I usually wear

Tbh 

It was part of an outfit Wooyoung made me wear

It was Halloween

Mistakes were made

Boy with the Face

I…I don’t knwo how to respond to that

If I ask ??s will you answer me?

No, tbh, don’t…don’t tell me anything

….

….

I jst made this weird

soz

Yeosang

No, you didn’t. 

This was the outfit

….

….

Seonghwa? Did I kill you?

You ok?

….

Shit, I think I killed you.

Boy with the Face

I was not expecting that, Sangie

Fuck me

How are you so…?

Ugh

Sorry

….

Dropped my phone.

Yeosang

Yeah, it’s pretty dumb

I kno

Wooyoung laughed his ass off tho

Boy with the Face

Why?!

The next time I see Wooyoung I will beat his ass

Yeosang

Hahaha

Thnx, bro, but why?

Youngie was right tho.

I look like a fuckboi

Boy with the Face  

Well

Yeosang

Hey, be nice

It was a long time ago, ok?

In my defence

I wasdrunk

And stupid

Boy with the Face

Well, what I was going to say is

I think you looked gorgeous

Like living art

And your roommate is an ass. 

Yeosang

You’re too much

Tnx 

That’s v sweet

And he is. 

But he bakes well under stress. 

So I stick it out with him.

Boy with the Face

Gotit 

Baked goods over boys defending your honour

Yeosang

Hahaha

Are you defending my honour?

Boy with the Face

I dunno

But I know if the chance comes, I will fight in the streets for you.

Yeosang

I like how you think you have to fight for me

Like I can’t defend myself

Boy with the Face 

Can you?!?!?

Yeosang

You don’t know my family

….

Okay

I think that’s it for tonight

I need sleep

Thanks for dinner, again. 

I enjoy talking to you.

Boy with the Face

Yeah, me too. 

Sweet dreams, Sangie. 

Yeosang

You too. 

xoxo

…

Wait

I didn’t mean to send that.

Boy with the Face

Nope. 

No take backsies. 

Yeosang

Ass

g’nite

***

Seonghwa

Holy shit, San

San the Demon

What?

What?

Seonghwa

I like a boy

Like, I REALLY like him

San the Demon

Is this boy called Yeasong?

Doesn’t he have the prettiest mouth?

The cutest frowns?

The biggest hazel eyes?

The most fuckable body?

Have you seen that boy’s ass in those skinny jeans?

I’d tap that. 

But Mingi would kill me. 

Seonghwa

Jesus, San WTf

Stop being lewd

San the Demon

Seongie. 

You’ve met me. 

And I know you. 

It’s been weeks since you’ve met him

And you still haven’t dicked this kid down

Wtf 

Seonghwa

I resent everything you just said.

It’s not just about dicking him down

How dare

San the Demon

Oh.

Oh no. 

You have feelings?

Like, actual feels for this guy?

Seonghwa

…

I guess so. 

Being around him makes me happy.

I can’t stop thinking about him. 

Or drawing him. 

San the Demon

Do you think he feels the same way?

Wooyoung has told Jongho who told me that he’s not dated since he came to college

That he turns everyone down

Maybe he doesn’t even like dick?

Maybe he doesn’t like anything. 

I have a cousin who’s ace so, you know. 

Just putting it out there. 

Seonghwa

I dunno

I can feel there’s something, San.

I dunno what. 

I think he likes me too.

San the Demon

And who wouldn’t like you?

You’re hot as fuck

Objectively speaking

Of course

Seonghwa

Of course

I’m rolling my eyes

We’re not talking about what happened

We were young

And 

So drunk

San the Demon

Yeah

Was fun tho, right?

Seonghwa

Yeah, but you have Mingi

And I really like Yeosang

San the Demon

And I like Mingi 

I like that he can manage me

I like that he can handle what I give out

Seongie

I think it’s love

Seonghwa

Jesus

Who are you?

Do I have to change your name in my phone?

San the Demon

No, I am still the one to lead everyone into temptation

Don’t you dare

….

….

Hey, Seongie?

Love you bro.  Tell Yeosang how you feel. 

Don’t wait too long.  

Now get your cute ass to sleep. 

It’s fucking two in the morning. 

Chapter Text

Seonghwa isn’t really a coward. He’s more like risk adjacent and he likes things to make sense. He acts the fuckboi, because it’s easier sometimes, than being the quiet one, the one that would rather drink coffee in a coffee shop listening to laid back music and sketch and dream. Not telling someone of your crush is easier than wanting to communicate the depth of his crush to a boy who looks scared whenever someone brushes past him too closely.  It’s easier than wanting to touch and feel and press lips against exposed skin to make that boy yield and moan and be his. 

Seonghwa isn’t a coward but he knows that he would die on this hill rather than tell Yeosang how much he likes him.  He doesn’t want to fuck things up.  Yeosang would have to be utterly oblivious because Seonghwa thought he’s made it quite clear how much he likes him. He’s told him that much.  He’s shown the fucker by sharing his sketches with him, by dragging him to pose for him in his studio. Alone and in private.  And he knows Yeosang likes him, maybe, just a bit but he’s not sure if it’s like like or like like.  So he’s scared to push for more, to chance it, because he’d rather be able to be around him than be without him entirely.  And he somehow knows that if he screws it up, Yeosang would walk away.  He’d spoken about his five year plan before, in passing, and somehow Seonghwa knew that it didn’t include relationships. 

Seonghwa takes out his frustrations in the dance studio.  It’s eight pm and they’ve been dancing since four, getting the choreo right.  He is a stinking heaving mess and his shirt is clinging to his chest and his hair is pulled back beneath a snapback because it’s gotten too long and he looks a mess but he feels alive, buzzing, and he loves it. 

Then the door opens and Yeosang walks in carrying a large tote.  He’s dressed all in black, as usual. Light leather jacket, black t-shirt and sinfully tight black jeans and black Converse.  The only flash of colour on him at all is the light pink of his lips. 

He stops when everyone turns to look at him and for a moment he looks like the proverbial deer in headlights and then San lets out a demonic whoop and rushes at him.  There’s something about Yeosang’s gaze as he looks at San, that has Seonghwa is moving before he knows it and he watches, in horror, as Yeosang literally crumples in on himself as San hurdles at him. 

But thank god for Mingi, because he’s there, pulling San away, running interference and Seonghwa is kneeling next to Yeosang, close but not touching.  Yeosang had made himself as small as possible in the face of San’s over exuberance and he has his arms wrapped around his knees and his head tucked low.  And he is shaking.  

Someone stopped the pounding Steve Aoki remix playing over the studio’s speakers and the silence that falls in the room is thick with shock and concern. 

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa says, his voice low. “Buddy, it’s okay.”

Not a single sound comes out of Yeosang’s mouth.   “Look, San was stupid running at you like that. He’s an idiot. I’ve told you before.  But he likes you.  You know that. He would never hurt you but he just didn’t think. He forget he’s…him, sometimes too much to take.  Hey, can you breathe for me?”

His voice is soft and low and behind him he can hear the rest of the dance team muttering and keeping their distance.  He looks over his shoulders and meets San’s gaze.  The other boy looks, well he looks like Seonghwa feels.  He looks utterly devastated.  And he’s crying.  Mingi meets Seonghwa’s eyes and he looks completely lost and Seonghwa can relate. Mingi settles San against his shoulder and turns him away from Yeosang and he walks them back, towards the furthest side of the studio. 

Seonghwa hears San’s voice. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to hug him. No idea he’d just crumple like that. Fuck.”

And then Mingi’s deeper voice, reassuring.  “It’s okay, Sannie.  Seonghwa will look after him.”

He’s not even remotely an expert and he’s only ever heard of panic attacks and he’s pretty sure that’s what is happening to Yeosang right now.  Seonghwa is dying to touch him but he knows that if he did he might make this so much worse, so he stays at Yeosang’s side as his teammates filter out as quietly as they could behind them. He hasn’t been so grateful to his friends ever. 

So he crosses his legs and talks at Yeosang, about his day, about his meeting with his arts professor and how he’s thinking about the extra classes he wants to take over summer, the education ones, to see if it gels with him. He just talks and he rambles and it’s stream of consciousness stuff, really.  Eventually, when he’s tired of that and he has no idea how long they've been sitting there, he adjusts his legs a little, still careful of keeping a little space between them and he just starts singing softly, humming at first, then singing.  He doesn’t even know what he’s singing, it’s just words and he watches as Yeosang slowly unclenches his hands from around his knees and the shaking lessens.  He had his forehead pressed against his knees before, his shoulders up around his ears, but slowly, he turns his head to stare at Seonghwa and if Seonghwa wasn’t gone on him already, he’d be falling fast for this boy.  His eyes are huge, blown wide open but they are unutterable vulnerable and unguarded.  It is so unlike Yeosang’s usual sharp direct gaze that Seonghwa’s voice falters because he’s never seen his eyes like this.  A part of Seonghwa thinks he’d trade all his art supplies to have Yeosang look at him like that forever. 

“Hey,” he says.  “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,”Yeosang’s voice was faint. “Sorry.”

Seonghwa breathes out, desperate to touch.  Instead he folds his hands together in his lap where he’s sitting at his side, Buddha style. 

“No, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault,” he says. 

“I scared San,” Yeosang says and his voice is laced with worry.  “Is he okay?”

Seonghwa aches.  Yeosang is the one who had been scared senseless and his first thought was that he scared San.  What the hell?

“San will get over it.  He shouldn’t have come at you like that. He’s terrifying enough on a good day but a sweaty overexcited San is a bit much for anyone to stomach.”

Yeosang’s lips quirk, and the tiniest dimple appears just on the side of his mouth.  It’s so small and it’s almost gone before Seonghwa can properly register it. 

“He’s not really.  It’s just sometimes-,” Yeosang lets the sentence hang.  “Sometimes I scare easily.  I just didn’t expect him. God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey, no.” Seonghwa leans forward so he can catch his eye.  “You’re not an idiot.  Don’t talk like that, okay? It’s fine.  You’re fine.  You’re safe.  I’ve got you.”

“You got me?”

There’s something in Yeosang’s voice that sounds like hope and an ache blooms in Seonghwa’s chest because, Jesus fuck, what had happened to this kid to break him this badly?

“Until you’re sick of me,” Seonghwa promises. 

This time the smile is real. It’s not just a quirk of his pretty lips, but it’s a full on smile. It reaches his eyes and a light flush sits across his cheeks and Seonghwa feels like he’s won the Nobel Prize for Peace or something.  Because that smile is so real and so, ugh, everything, it makes him feel like he’s walking on clouds.  He’s dizzy with it. 

“You are a little ridiculous,” Yeosang tells him and Seonghwa shrugs. 

“No take backsies,” he says and it’s supposed to be teasing but it comes out really serious and solemn. 

Yeosang nods and they sit in silence for a few more seconds. 

“My ass hurts,” Yeosang eventually says and he sounds almost like himself.  “I need to stand.”

“Sure, whatever you need.  Do you want help or?”

Yeosang pushes up off the floor to his feet and it is so graceful, Seonghwa’s mouth dries a little. He catches sight of Mingi and San where they’re sitting on the other side of the room.  San seems to be dozing on Mingi’s shoulder whilst Mingi is playing some kind of game on his phone.  Seonghwa watches as Yeosang walks over to them, crouching at Mingi’s feet where he’s got his legs stretched out. He talks to Mingi for a few seconds and Seonghwa wishes he knew what was being said because his face splits in a grin and he nods. 

“San?” Mingi says, shrugging his shoulder so that San could wake up.  “Hey, loser, Yeosang wants to talk to you.” 

“I broke him,” San says, lifting his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Yeosang laughs then.  It is soft and delighted. “I’m tougher than that, but I’m sorry I scared you.  I’m really sorry, San.”

“The fuck, hyung?” San says, sitting forward. “I scared the shit out of you and you apologise to me? I’m fine, are you okay?”

“I’m a little shaky, but better.  Seonghwa talked me down.”

Both San and Mingi looked at him in unison and their combined gazes made Seonghwa flush.  Mingi nodded and looked back at Yeosang. 

“He’s a good guy,” he says and Yeosang nods. 

“It would seem that way.  Sorry, again.  I was going to ask you guys to dinner after your practice but I’m not sure now?”

“I could eat, but only if you’re okay with it?” San said and his eyes were narrowed as he stared at Yeosang.  “We can take a rain check?”

“You know?” Yeosang stood.  “I don’t think I want to be alone tonight, not after this.  I feel like I need company.  Will you be okay with that?”

“Yes, sure, whatever you want, hyung.” Mingi was smiling.  

“Great.” Yeosang stood up so that he could move away from them.  “I’ll wait for you to get showered and whatever.”  

Seonghwa watches the quiet interaction with a growing fondness in his chest.  This was so sweet, like watching toddlers make friends.  He glances down and spotted the large tote back Yeosang had dropped on the floor. 

“What’s this?” He asks and points to the bag.  

“Your shirts for the showcase,” Yeosang said.  “I thought I’d bring them around tonight.”

San and Mingi walk closer and Seonghwa notices that they made sure they stay in Yeosang’s line of sight and it is sweet and a bit ridiculous and he loves his friends for it. 

Yeosang crouches next to the bag and starts pulling the folded tshirts out.  They’ve each been carefully packaged and labelled.  

“Yours,” he says, tossing a packet at Mingi.  One follows, flying at San’s face.  “And yours.” He stands to hand Seonghwa his. 

Seonghwa takes it with a happy grin and pulls it out of the bag.  It’s a v-neck t-shirt that’s been cut roomier across the back and wider sleeves than normal.  

“You’ve got our names across the back!” San laughs.  “This is so goddamn cool.” 

He spins the t-shirt around so that everyone could see his name CHOI SAN printed in a thick white font.  

The front of the shirts had DANCE CREW CLASS OF 2020 across of the front with the college emblem emblazoned on the pocket. 

“This is really cool,” Seonghwa says and grins at Yeosang.  “Thank you.”

Yeosang nodded.  “No problem.  I had fun designing them.  I used a more sheer fabric for breathability.  I also cut them so that they would move with you when you dance.”

“The guys are going to love this,” Mingi said as stuffed his back in the packet.  “Honestly, Yeosang-hyung.  Thank you.”

Yeosang waved at them and to Seonghwa’s shock, both Mingi and San bowed to Yeosang.  It clearly surprised him too because he stilled for a moment, his eyes huge, before he too bowed at them. 

“Please, go shower. I’m hungry and I’m still shaking a little.”

“You’re shaking?” Seonghwa turns to his backpack and pulls out an energy bar and his bottle of water.  “Here, have this while we get ready.” 

“No, I’m …”

“Just, bloody take it, okay? You had a shock.  This will help you.”

Yeosang’s eyes go very big at Seonghwa’s firm tone and he drops his gaze, grabbing the offered goods from him. 

“I’ll just wait here for you guys,” he says gestures. “If I’m allowed?”

Seonghwa nods.  “Sure, we won’t be long.”

He trails behind Mingi and San as they left the studio, heading for the showers.  He could hear the other two animatedly chatter about their shirts and he has to admit, he looks forward to wearing his.  

“Any idea what happened back there?” Min-suk’s voice surprises him as he steps into the changing room.  “Is he your boyfriend? Is he okay?”

Seonghwa takes a moment to get his brain in gear when Mingi slaps Min-suk on the shoulder, fingers tightening just enough to make the guy wince a little. 

“Bro, it’s none of your business, okay? Yeosang is cool, he just had a fright.  Besides,  he brought our dance shirts.  Check them out.” 

Mingi divvies out the rest of the dance crew t-shirts and everyone is noisy and excited.  It makes Seonghwa smile and feel oddly proud. 

***

They find a fried chicken place near campus that’s open and not too busy.  Yeosang seems okay but he’s quieter than usual and Seonghwa makes sure to leave an invisible bubble around him that he doesn’t cross into.  If Yeosang notices, he gives no indication and instead he asks them about their practice, about the dance and how the showcase works.  He asks the questions and he listens intently. 

After a little while, he looks at Seonghwa, San and Mingi individually before speaking. 

“What do you think, the chances are of you guys doing part of my show as a mini dance showcase?” 

“That could definitely work,” Seonghwa says after a few seconds.  “I mean, I’m a good dancer and I’m happy with whatever is decided, so really, you’ll just need to get San and Mingi on board.  And Hongjoong.”

“He wasn’t at practice tonight,” Yeosang points out. 

“No, he’s with his ex, Yunho. They,” San grimaces.  “Have a complicated relationship.”

“How so?”

“They can’t be in the same room without banging,” Mingi says.  “Or fighting.  Sometimes it’s difficult to tell which is which, to be honest.”

“Guys,” Seonghwa says with a grimace.  “Be nice.”

“What, it’s the truth.  You should know.”

When Yeosang turns those eyes on him Seonghwa blushes and ducks his head. “I might have walked in on them once or twice.  I share an apartment with Hongjoong and they are not…discreet.”

“Or quiet,” San says.  “It’s embarrassing.”

“Like you have room to talk,” Mingi says and grins, fending off San’s pinches. “Hey, stop, be nice or I won’t let you co-.”

“Okay, wow, look at the time.  Yeosang, how about we head home? I’ll walk you? Okay, great.  Let’s go.”  Seonghwa sends Mingi a WTF ARE YOU DOING look as he talks over the rest of his sentence, and Mingi just laughs at him, all teeth and giggles.   San at least has the grace to blush and look awkward but Yeosang was outright staring at them with interest.  

“So you guys are like, together?”

“Yeah,” Mingi says, arm around San’s neck.  He presses a kiss to his temple and ruffles his messy hair.  “Going on two years now?”

San just nods and smiles sweetly.  Seonghwa shakes his head. 

“Officially two years but they’ve been pining after one another since high school.  It was the worst.”

“That is impressive.  What about your parents?”

“Mine are okay,” San says.  “My dad runs a taekwondo school back in my hometown and he specialises in teaching martial arts to LGBTQ kids.  When I came out to him and my mum they just hugged me and told me that as long as I’m not hurting anyone they don’t care who I love. Of course, then I told them I like Mingi.  And they wanted to disown me.”

“What?” Mingi squawks.  “That is a lie, Choi San, you fucking traitor.  They love me.  His parents like me more than they like him, let me tell you that for nothing.”

San was laughing.  “He’s not lying. When I told my parents I was dating Mingi my mum called him up, read him the riot act and made him call her mom.” 

“That is very…” Yeosang reached for the word.  “Enlightened of your parents.  How about yours?”

Mingi shook his head.  “My mum and dad aren’t great about me being gay.  I came out to them like, when I was fourteen or something.  They thought it was a phase and didn’t stop setting me up with dates with some really nice girls.  Then I brought my first boyfriend home and my dad walked out of the house and refused to come back until the guy had left.  It was awful.”

“Shit,” Yeosang said.  “That’s just…horrible.  I’m sorry.”

Mingi shrugged.  “Eh, it is what it is. I mean, they don’t approve of my lifestyle, but I am still in the family and in the will, or so my mom says.  I don’t go home very often.  It’s just too stressful.”

“How about you?” San asks and Yeosang stills completely, hands flat on the table on either side of his empty plate.  

Seonghwa’s heart is in his throat and he feels very hot suddenly.  San honestly sometimes had no filter. He slants a look at Yeosang who had gone very still at the question.  

“I, actually, haven’t told anyone in my family that I am gay,” Yeosang says.  “It’s just not something I want to share with them, until I’m ready, that is.”

“I get it,” Mingi says.  “It’s just, you never know how they’ll react.  And sometimes, the thought of it, just makes me want to be sick. I think about the kids who come out to their parents and friends who are then completely ostracised because they aren’t conforming to societal norms and it just, it breaks me, you know?  Like, they have no one and they look at the world and they see a word where loving someone of the same sex is demonised when, really, it’s just…” he waves a hand and wipes at his eyes.  “Just, it fucking makes me so angry, you know?”

“Oh babe,” San says and wraps his arms around Mingi’s shoulders.  “You’re going to be able to help, so just, focus on that, okay?”

Mingi turns and mutters something to San and they speak quietly.  Yeosang turns to Seonghwa with a frown. 

“Mingi is doing a double major,” Seonghwa explains.  “Dance and child psychology.  He wants to help kids.”

“That is impressive,” Yeosang says and Mingi waves a hand.  

“It’s fucking hard, I won’t lie.  But I enjoy it.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” Yeosang looks at Seonghwa.  “So, what is your story?”

Seonghwa almost chokes on his drink and has to turn aside to cough into his elbow.  “My story?” He croaks.  “I uh? I guess I’m gay? I mean, I’m gay. I’ve dated girls before because everyone did and I just…didn’t get what the fuss was about? It wasn’t until I saw Wookie in Healer without his shirt on that I kinda knew.”

Both San and Mingi hummed in unison.  “We were there for Seonghwa’s awakening. It was a sight to behold.  But then Chang-wook Ji is unbearably hot,” San said.  “I’ve known straight guys go weak at the knees at the sight of his abs.”

This made Seonghwa laugh a little and blush a lot. 

“And your parents?”

Seonghwa wondered if Yeosang realised that he was asking a lot of incredibly personal questions of them over a dinner of fried chicken and spicy fries.  But somehow, he didn’t mind.  He senses a genuine curiosity behind the questions and both San and Mingi had been brutally honest about it with him so Seonghwa decided to be equally honest. 

“I told my mom.  She’s an artist and well, I’m about to generalise here, she has a lot of gay friends in her circle.  When I told her, she thought I was joking. Then, she had her gay bff talk to me and only after that, when I assured her that I liked guys she was kind of, okay, well.  As long as you’re sure.  As it stands we have a good relationship? But she prefers not to really know about my love life. I’ve not ever taken anyone home.  My dad’s not in the picture anymore.  He left when my mum became more successful than him as an artist.  I haven’t spoken to him in maybe fifteen years.”

Yeosang took a deep breath when he finishes speaking.  Seonghwa watches him, seeing him taking in the words, mulling them over.  

“That’s, just, so…thanks, for telling me, for sharing this with me.” He nods to Seonghwa and to the other two boys.  “It’s just hard, you know? Like, what does my sexuality have to do with anyone else? I just don’t get what the fuss is about.”

“Exactly,” Mingi says, sitting forward.  “Exactly this. It is no one else’s business except your own. Love as you will and harm none.”

Yeosang is staring at the empty plate in front of him, seemingly lost in thought, but then his gaze snaps back. 

“Ah, sorry, hyungs.  Just too much going up here,” he says, tapping his head.  “Thanks for answering all the questions. Tonight has been a bit of a tangent, right?”

“It has but, then, you’ve not really hung out with us properly.  It gets messy, these conversations. It rambles and ambles.”

“Especially when Wooyoung bakes his special brownies.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow.  “Special brownies?”

“He adds weed. It is a work of art,” Mingi explains.  “You get high, so high, but it’s a gentle sweet high and it doesn’t smell.”

“Well,” Yeosang says.  “Next time, invite me along.”

“Now we’re talking,” Mingi says with a grin. “Will remember that.”

Yeosang looks immensely pleased at that.  He stretches and glances at his watch.  “It’s late.  I think I’m going to head off.” He looks at Seonghwa.  “Walk me?”

Seonghwa gets up so fast he almost falls over. 

“Sure.” He high fives Mingi and fist bumps with San.  “See you losers tomorrow.”

As they’re busy leaving, Yeosang turns back to the table.  “Thank you, for…you know.  For everything.  Tonight has been a good night.  I appreciate it.”

But then he’s turning away and striding out of the restaurant.  Seonghwa gives his friends a helpless look over his shoulder as he follows him out. 

***

“I know.” Yeosang is rolling beside Seonghwa. They’re quiet as they walk towards Yeosang’s apartment.  Well, Seonghwa walks and Yeosang rolls on his longboard.  Seonghwa has to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to steady Yeosang next to him. He’s never been aware of quite how much he wants to touch. 

“What do you know?”

“That tonight was a mess. That I freaked out your friends.  That I asked far too many personal questions.”

“Well, firstly, San is terrifying when he runs at people whilst howling, so I totally get it.” Seonghwa can’t help the grin he shoots Yeosang at his little irritated huff. “And the questions were…a little invasive, maybe, but we’re friends, right? So no secrets.”

“Friends, huh?” Yeosang murmured the words, skilfully navigating around a gap in the paving.  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“The guys really like you. You feed them, you dress them pretty.” 

Yeosang laughs.  “You make me sound like a dirty old man with a harem of boys.”

“Well, if the silk slippers fit,” Seonghwa teases back and he’s delighted to see a light flush climb up Yeosang’s smooth cheeks. 

“That is terrible.”

“I know.  I don’t think Mingi would like to be a kept man.  San, on the other hand, would be impossible.  He’s very demanding and he has expensive taste.”

“You love them.”

Seonghwa thought about it.  They’ve been friends for what felt like forever.  They grew up together, fought, made up, fought other boys, even some girls, and ultimately discovered their own identities.  

“I do. I can’t imagine my life without them.”

“That’s deep.”

“Shut up, you asked.”

There’s that sweet quiet quirk of the lips that Seonghwa finds so irresistible.  He smiles to himself but doesn’t say anything even though he could feel Yeosang’s eyes on him. 

“Are you dating anyone right now?”

The question takes him by surprise.  When he looks at Yeosang he’s presented with a perfect profile. 

“No. I haven’t been with anyone for a while.” A while translates to almost a year.  There’s been hookups, fast and dirty, a mutual release of student stress with a guy from one of his classes, but other than that, no one.  “You?”

Yeosang seems surprised by the question and he gives an abrupt shake of his head.  “No, not something I have the luxury to indulge in.”

“Not even hookups?”

Yeosang looks haunted at the question but he shakes his head again. “No, I don’t do…that.”

“Have you ever been with someone?”

The night was still around them with very little traffic.  It was warm and the wind felt balmy. There was an odd element to the night air.  Seonghwa felt drunk on it. He felt drunk on being with Yeosang, with Yeosang being talkative, and sweet and shy.  It made him feel special, privileged. Something was changing and he wondered if Yeosang could feel it too. 

“Not…no.” Yeosang shook his head, his colour high.  “Not since forever ago. It was bad.  A mistake and it was awful.  So I don’t think it should count.”

Seonghwa hummed in agreement.  “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?”  The quirk was back and that dimple was deep and Seonghwa had to look away, down at his ratty Converse and his jeans torn at the knees.  

“Just, you know.  You deserve better.  You deserve someone who’d be good to you. Who’d make you feel that no one else mattered.” He was blushing now but he didn’t care. He kept his gaze forward and clenched his jaw.  “So yeah, that’s what I think about that.”

Yeosang doesn’t say anything for a while and they’re almost at his apartment block.  Seonghwa could see it looming towards them. 

“You are really nice. I didn’t expect that from you when we met the the first time.”

Seonghwa grimaced. “Yeah, that was not the best intro.”

“I really thought you guys had some weird sex thing going though. I genuinely almost walked away.  I regretted all my life choices.”

“Well,” Seonghwa says and arches an eyebrow at Yeosang and this time he laughed out loud and Seonghwa’s stomach flipped. 

“Please no,” he gasped.  “Please tell me you didn’t do it with Hongjoong.”

“It was once, a long time ago. It was terrible, disastrous.  We were both so drunk and we fumbled  it so badly, it would make every gay man sob at how bad it was.  I have so many regrets and we swore never ever to touch one another again in that way.”

Yeosang’s laugh was bright and high and a little breathy.  He had to stop rolling and kicked the board up, tucking it under his arm. 

“Fuck, that was funny.  Poor Seonghwa.”

“You know it. I sometimes have nightmares about it and have to get up in the middle of the night and emo eat M&M’s to calm myself down.”

“And Hongjoong?” 

“He prefers Choco Puffs.”

Yeosang laughed harder, he was bent over now, holding his stomach.  Seonghwa was laughing at him, but mostly trying to memorise the way his cheeks curved when he laughed, the way he looked utterly delighted and so alive.  It was a good look on him.  He wished Yeosang would laugh more often. 

“Thank you, my god, Seonghwa, I needed that.  I can’t breathe.” He flapped a hand as he straightened, pressing it against his abdomen. 

Seonghwa sketched a little bow and tilted his chin with a smirk.  “I live to make you laugh,” he says and ends with a wink and a little bow. 

They get to Yeosang’s building with only a few suppressed snorts and a companionable silence.  

“Good night, Seonghwa.  Thank you, for everything tonight.”

“You’re welcome.  I’m glad I was there to uh, help.”

“I really appreciate it.  Most people wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I had no idea what to do, but I couldn’t just leave you.”

“Well, you did well and you got me back.  I am really grateful to you.”

Seonghwa flushed and waved a hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I told you. I got you.”

“Yeah, you did.  You got me.”  Yeosang was smiling at him and he looked like everything.  Seonghwa wants to kiss him so badly it’s almost a physical ache. Instead he takes a step back, putting more space between them. He was not going to fuck this up. 

“Text me when you get home,” Yeosang said.  “So I know you’ve been abducted by space aliens.”

“I will.”

He waited until Yeosang input the security code to his apartment block before he turned and walked back to his own apartment. 

***

Boy with the Face

I’m home! 

Thanks for dinner, again.  

I can get used to you buying me food.

Yeosang

Cheeky.  But.

It’s fine. The least I could do. 

Are we still on for Friday?

Boy with the Face

Definitely and yes pls

I’ll get lunch and snacks

Yeosang

I’ll remember the shirt

And 

The collar ofc

Boy with the Face

Not sure I’m gonna cope tbh

I may change my mind re ur outfit

Yeosang

Why?!

Boy with the Face

I worry you think I’m being pervy

Yeosang

….

Are you?

Boy with the Face

Not really? 

I just think what I want to paint…

Fuck, hw do I say this?

Yeosang

You’re a big boy, Seonghwa

Use your words like an adult 

Boy with the Face

Okay

Bear with me, ok?

This is gonna be a trip.

Yeosang

How about you tell me in person?

Boy with the Face

…..

I can be at yours in ten minutes?

Yeosang

No, I mean, call me. 

Facetime. 

Boy with the Face

Ah, yes, that’s easier. 

Soz. 

Yeosang

Haha. 

….

Waiting?

***

Seonghwa was sitting upright against far too many pillows for any sane person to have on his bed.  Yeosang peered at the screen.  

“Is that a Captain America plushie?” He asks and even though the light in Seonghwa’s room is dim, and he can’t see him that clearly, he can tell that Seonghwa is blushing. 

“Shut up, but yes.  Don’t judge me. I’m a Marvel stan.”

“Huh, I think we have to break up.  I can’t possibly be seen with you in public ever again.”

“Of course you’re DC.”  Seonghwa rolls those big eyes of his and Yeosang has to look away before he breaks out in smiles again.  This boy was something else.  Yeosang didn’t think he knew quite how attractive he was.  Which was good, because if he did, and he played up to it, Yeosang would be broken. 

“There is nothing wrong with a bit of darkness,” Yeosang says.  “And well plotted revenge.”

“Of course, Batboy, of course.”  Seonghwa brought his face closer to his phone.  “Yeosang? Are your sheets…black?”

Yeosang did not look flustered.  He absolutely did not. He did however clutch his bedding to his chest.  

“Yes?” 

“Hmm.”

“What hmmm? I can’t see your expression.  Are you judging me for having black bedding?”

“It’s kinda sexy.” But Seonghwa’s voice says its anything but and Yeosang rolls his eyes.

“I like black.  Black is where I’m comfortable. You know where you are with black.”

“Okay, that’s fair.  It also helps that you look good in black, my little emo goth friend.”

“I’ll hang up,” Yeosang warns him.  “And I won’t talk to you ever again. Ever.”

Seonghwa was smiling now and he outright pouted at the screen. 

“No, please, please. I’ll be good, promise.”  He smooths his features and glances at the phone, doing his best to look innocent but what Yeosang see makes his heart stutter.  Seonghwa looks soft. His hair hung thick over his forehead and in the half light of the room, the sharp angle of his jaw is softened.  His lips are wide and full but it’s his eyes which are mesmerising. He’s wearing a sleep shirt that is obviously a favourite.  It’s stretched out and wide around the collar and Yeosang can make out the soft skin of his collarbones and the dip of his clavicle.  He looks ethereal and Yeosang wonders what it would feel like to press his lips to all that exposed skin.  But the thought frightens him, and he shuts it down hard. 

“So,” he says and his voice is maybe lower than it should be.  “Talk to me about why you’re worried?”

“Oh right, yes.  So.” Seonghwa sits up and adjust the phone on the side table and for a second the screen goes black and then he’s back, lying on his stomach, clutching one of his sketch journals. 

“So, you’ve seen some of the art I’ve done and you’ve said you like it.  Which is really flattering, so thanks for that. My idea for your painting is a little different?”

Yeosang nods.  “I gathered.  Do you want me to pose naked?”

Seonghwa’s head comes up so fast that Yeosang worries about whiplash.  “No, fuck, Yeosang.  You can’t say shit like that.  Oh wait, you did that on purpose.  Now who’s the asshole?”

Yeosang just smirks and points at himself, making Seonghwa laugh but then he bats his lashes and does his best to look nonchalant but fails because Seonghwa is still laughing and looking flustered. 

“Don’t pretend to be sorry now. I can see you trying not to laugh.  Jesus, you’ll give me a heart attack.”  Seonghwa opens his notebook.  “So these are some small prelim sketches I made.  Can you see? Do you need me to put the light on?”

“No, I can see.  They look amazing, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa looks down at the sketches.  “I was worried that you’d think my idea was a bit questionable?”  He taps a long finger against one of the sketches.  “But I think you’d look stunning like this.”

The way Seonghwa had sketched him out, he was on his knees, and he was wearing a loose button-down shirt that was unbuttoned midway down to his stomach.  He wore a collar and his hands were behind his back, invisible to the viewer.  Seonghwa had him looking up, towards the viewer, the perspective from above.  The sketch was sexy, undoubtedly, with soft BDSM overtones.  Yeosang stared at the sketch, drinking it in, wondered at how Seonghwa saw him.  It made him feel seen. 

“I like it.” I want to look like that in real life, he thinks, when I eventually let myself go.  I want to look like that for you. The thought makes him dizzy and he presses his thumb into the bruise on his hip.  The pain helps him, it anchors him, and he blinks slowly, looking away from the sketch to meet Seonghwa’s dark eyes.  “I don’t think you’re…it’s not perverted.  Your art is stunning.  It’s going to look fantastic.”

“Hmm, if I pull it off.”  Seonghwa shoots him a look.  “So, you’re okay with the general concept?”

“I’ll need a lot of breaks so I won’t get cramps,” Yeosang says.  “I’ll try and stretch out before I get to you on Friday so we can start right away.”

“Send me a list of snacks you like.  I’ll get them in.”

“Sure.” Yeosang sighs and leans back on his pillow, which, by the way, was also black.  “But, sleep now, right? It’s late.”

“Yeah, sleep now,” Seonghwa says but he’s clearly not going to.  

“Do you have class in the morning?” 

“Not until the afternoon. I’m going to my studio to splash paint around in the morning. I have a few small commissions.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“It is. It’s money and we all need extra money, right?”

Yeosang doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods.  “Sure.  Have a good night, Seonghwa.  See you soon.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Seonghwa disconnects the call and Yeosang presses his phone against his chest and sighs deeply.  He doesn’t think about Seonghwa’s lips, or his eyes, or his hands.  He doesn’t think about his hip to shoulder ratio.  He definitely doesn’t think about how tall Seonghwa looks because he is built along lean lines.  Or how his shoulders are unexpectedly wide.  He does think about Seonghwa’s calm voice, how sweet he is, how protective he is of Yeosang, how he forces himself not to engage him in any of the casual skinship he has with his friends. It is sweet and kind and generous.  He sat with Yeosang earlier, talking him out of his panic attack, doing what Yeosang needed, without really knowing what he was doing.  His voice had found Yeosang in that dark place he hid in and helped him out. And he’d done it, without training, without thinking about it twice.  Yeosang had never had anyone like that, not in all his life.  It scared him, knowing how much Seonghwa’s actions meant to him.  He wondered if Seonghwa could even guess how much he’d helped Yeosang.  He doubted it.  He’d not had an attack like this in months and he felt so stupid for it, and angry.  San had honestly scared the crap out of him and he’d dropped so fast, he’d hurt himself, his muscles clenching against the blows that would come, but they hadn’t.  Instead Seonghwa had been there, close, but not touching, not really, just there and present.  His voice gorgeous and soft and present.  Yeosang wanted to reach for him, ask for him to hold him, but he was scared, his mind a mess.  He liked him, but he couldn’t take that final step.  Not yet.  One day, maybe.  

When Yeosang falls asleep, it’s with a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa spends his morning at the studio working on his commissions before heading to class with San and Mingi.  He’s taking a business module as part of his art course as he wants to know how to run a business one day, should he ever get the keys to his own gallery.  He meets Jongho for dinner with San and Mingi in tow.  They spend the night talking about class, about politics, about movies and music, new shows and podcasts.  It’s a good night and it distracts him from tomorrow, knowing that he would be spending a lot of alone time with Yeosang. 

As if thinking about him, makes him pop into Jongho’s head too.  He’s talking to them about Wooyoung who he’s completely infatuated with and, San teases, sounds more than infatuation and more like actual in love with. 

“Don’t be stupid. I’d have to get Yeosang’s permission to be in love with Wooyoung.  He is very protective of him.”

“Yeosang is cool,” Mingi says.  “You make him sound not cool.”

Jongho rolls his eyes.  “He’s cool, just, he scares me a little.  Wooyoung says he’s really focussed.  He doesn’t date, he doesn’t go out to parties, or anything like that.  Not since his first year.”

“Did something happen?” Seonghwa asks, knowing he shouldn’t encourage gossip but, any insight into what makes Yeosang ticks is good.  

“No, I don’t think so.  Nothing terrible, I think. Wooyoung said Yeosang came home after the Christmas break and he was different.  Focussed.  He just closed himself off and started keeping himself to himself.”

“Huh,” says Mingi.  “He doesn’t seem to have trouble hanging out with us at all.”

“I think it’s because we’re doing him a favour,” San says, licking his fingers.  “He has to be nice to us.”

“He is paying us,” Mingi points out.  “So he doesn’t technically have to hang out with us.  What do you think, Hwa?”

For a moment Seonghwa is completely distracted thinking about Yeosang and what must have happened to him at home to have changed his stance about going out and having friends. 

“I think Yeosang is just intense.” He grimaces.  “Like, I don’t know.  He’s not an extrovert so he prefers doing things at his own pace and he doesn’t like attention on him..  So maybe it makes him seem a bit cold and aloof.  But he’s a good guy.  I like him.”

“Has your boyfriend mentioned Yeosang suffering from PTSD at all?” San who’s been steadily making his way through his plate of fried chicken asks and Jongho blinks in surprise.  

“No? Does he, though?”

“Not sure.  He went into a full blown panic attack last night. It was bad. I was worried we’d have to call an ambulance, but Hwa took care of him.”

“Fuck.” Jongho was staring at Seonghwa now.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know. It was sudden.  I think it was a combination of noise and movement that triggered it.  I was scared shitless.”

“You did well, Seonghwa,” Mingi says, patting his hand.  “You exude a calming aura, and when you do your voice thing, it’s like what’s that stuff called? ASMR?”

“What voice thing?” 

“Whenever we sit for you, you do this thing?”  Mingi looks at San for help. 

“Yeah, your voice just becomes really hypnotic and dark when you talk. And then you sometimes sing.”

Seonghwa didn’t know what to make of that.  He knew he sang, sometimes, when he painted.  But the way the guys spoke about it, made it sound weird.  

“Is it weird? I didn’t even realise I did that.”

“No, you’re fine.  It’s calming.  I used to love sitting for you, because when you talked to me, it felt like I was meditating.”  San nodded at his own explanation.  “And then afterwards, you’d just bring it back and you’d be yourself again and you’d hug me and made sure I had enough to eat and drink and it was like, two hours went by and I don’t remember it at all.”

“I honestly had no idea I did that.” Seonghwa brushed a hand through his hair.  “Sorry?”

“Bro, it’s fine.  Being around you is really calming.  I think that’s why you could help Yeosang last night.  You helped him get back to himself and you gave him water and snacks.  You grounded him and stayed with him till he was better.”

Mingi was looking thoughtful.  “You really like him, don’t you? I mean, you told San you liked him but this is real, with emotions and everything.”

Seonghwa gasped, shooting a betrayed look at San, who in turn looked a bit guilty but he just shrugged. 

“Whatever.  We’d have to be blind and deaf not to see how the two of you act around one another.  I have never seen you be so careful around anyone.”

“I just, dunno.  I don’t really know him that well? I mean, we’ve all spent time together.  You know how he is. Plus he’s such an ass sometimes, but he has this don’t touch me aura and it’s hard because there are times that all I want to do is touch.”

“Get consent first,” Jongho says, very seriously.  “No touching without consent.  Wooyoung has mentioned that Yeosang doesn’t let people touch him, not casually.  He never has.  Wooyoung has been his friend for years and he barely touches Wooyoung.”

“I wonder what happened to him?” San says.  “I mean, something had to have happened to him, right?”

Seonghwa thought about the little things he’s picked up about Yeosang and he wonders.  He keeps thinking about it until they go their separate ways and he goes home.  Hongjoong is there, looking tired and stressed.  

He waves at Seonghwa, his face lit up by the light from his laptop.  “Motherfucking essay,” he says.  “Music theory.  I hate it.  Due tomorrow.”

Seonghwa understands.  He hates art theory but it is a necessary evil.  Because he’s a good roommate he makes Hongjoong a strong coffee laced with hazelnut syrup and the fancy sugar that is an indulgence.  Hongjoong makes inappropriate orgasmic sounds when he takes his first sip and declares Seonghwa to be his everything and only ever true love.

“Yeah, I can see,” he says, pointing to the marks on Hongjoong’s neck.  “You cheated on me with Yunho?”

“Fucking Yunho,” Hongjoong mutters but there’s a blush riding on his cheeks.  “He is the worst.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says, pulling the door closed.  “The absolute worst.”

He has a shower and gets in bed with his laptop.  He works on an essay for class.  It’s not due for another two weeks, but two weeks go by really fast, especially with the gallery show and the dance showcase coming up.  

His phone lights up just before one a.m. 

Yeosang

Okay

So, hi?

Seonghwa

Hey

What’s going on?

Yeosang

I’m not sure

Seonghwa

Okay

Do you want me to call you?

Yeosang

No.

Seonghwa

Ok?

Sangie? You’re being weird.

Yeosang

It’s part of my charm.

Seonghwa

You have charm?

Yeosang

You ass. 

It’s fine - am being stupid

Forget I messaged you at ONE IN THE MORNING

WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?

Seonghwa

I DUNNO, SOME DUDE JUST MESSAGED ME AT ONE IN TH EMORNNG

Yeosang

Fuck off.

Hahaha. 

You were already awake you ass. 

Seonghwa

Again, I ask: You have charm?

Yeosang

I am the charmiest.

Is that even a word?

It’s not a word.  But I make it one.

Seonghwa

What you want,  pretty thing?

Yeosang

…..

Pretty thing?

Seonghwa

Hmm. 

The prettiest.

Yeosang

….

….

Seonghwa

You don’t like being called pretty?

Yeosang

No.

It was just unexpected.

Seonghwa

Would you like me to apologise?

Take it back?

Yeosang

No, no take backsies.

Seonghwa

I’m smiling so hard right now.

Why are you messaging me this late at night?

If you can’t make it tomorrow, it’s fine.

I can work on the commissions instead.

Yeosang

No, I can still make it. 

I just wanted to ask you another favour. 

Seonghwa

Oooh, another favour? 

Hmmm, what should I ask for in turn?

Yeosang

You are being exceedingly flirty tonight. 

Seonghwa

It must be the full moon. 

Yeosang

The…moon is waning.

I hate that I know that.

Seonghwa

Haha. 

You are being too cute. 

Okay, tell me the favour.

Yeosang

You know how I said I’m going home for my grandfather’s birthday?

In a few weeks time?

Seonghwa

Vaguely, yes. 

Yeosang

Would you be able to come with me?

I’ll pay for everything.

You just need to turn up. 

Seonghwa

….

I’m not sure I understand?

Why me? 

Why not Wooyoung?

Yeosang

I’m sorry, it was stupid of me.

I shouldn’t have asked. 

Forget it.

Seonghwa

I didn’t say no, Sangie.

I just want to know why you asked me?

Yeosang

I dunno. 

Maybe I just want to have someone - you - there

When my family converges on me

And I feel like prey

Seonghwa

You’re not selling this to me

I hope y0ou know  that

Yeosang

I wouldn’t be going in the first place.

But it is his 80^th.

Look, don’t worry about it. 

It was dumb of me to ask. 

Seonghwa

Just answer me this. 

Why me and not anyone else?

Yeosang

….

Fuck.

Seonghwa

Pardon?

Yeosang

Fine, if you want to know.

You make me feel safe. 

I’d like you to go with me, because you make me feel safe.

And I need someone with me 

I already told them I’m bringing someone

So please say yes.

Seonghwa

….

….

Okay.  I’ll come with you. 

Send me the dates and I’ll make sure I’m free.

Yeosang

Are you srs right now?

Seonghwa

Like death.

I’ll come with you.

Yeosang

Fuck me.

Wow, this is…

Everything, I’m so relieved

JFC.  Thank you. 

Seonghwa

Your reaction makes me wonder what I’m letting myself in for.

Should I bring weapons?

Yeosang

No, it’s fine. 

You can borrow mine. 

I have plenty.

Seonghwa

I think I’m a little turned on right now. 

Yeosang

*is alarmed*

Seonghwa

*grins *

Okay, so we’re still okay for tomorrow?

Yeosang

100%

See you tomorrow

I’ll tell you more about the weekend too.

Seonghwa

Sounds good. 

G’night, pretty thing.

Sleep well. 

Yeosang

You to.

/too

Yeosang

xoxo

***

Seonghwa stares at the phone in his hand.  What the ever living fuck did he just agree to? Who was Yeosang’s family that he needed someone with him to make him feel SAFE?  He didn’t fall asleep for hours but woke up late, feeling weirdly like he’s not panicking.  

He putters around, reading his phone, has a cup of godawful coffee whilst listening to Hongjoong grumble about his essay. He hums the right answers, keeping it vague, not telling him about his conversation with Yeosang.  It was going to be a warm one so he dressed in a tank and loose shorts, grabs his phone, wallet and keys, backpack, his new charcoals and heads to the studio. 

He stops by the supermarket on the way and buys everything Yeosang had listed as favourite snacks and buys himself a few things too.  He figured he’d be able to call out for lunch to get them fed.  

At the studio he cranks the windows open, jerry-rigs the fan to work and set about prepping some canvasses.  He put aside his commissions and tidies his space and cleans his brushes.  He does some quick warmup drawings on thick A2 mixed media paper.  He finds himself sketching San and Mingi holding hands, then Hongjoong’s exhausted face.  He loses himself in the music on his bluetooth speakers and sketching until his phone buzzes and he glances at it.  

Yeosang

ETA 5mins.  Picking you up some javajavajavajava

He sends a smiley emoji, heart emoji, smiley heart emoji in response.   

He puts the sketches aside and sets his easel up properly.  By the time Yeosang gets there, carrying two takeaway coffee cups and a bag of pastries, his studio is as tidy as it was ever going to be.  

He takes the pastries from Yeosang who staggers into the room, his board under one arm, backpack over one shoulder whilst clutching onto the cups for dear life. 

“I don’t remember you being this dramatic,” Seonghwa laughs, taking his board from him and propping it up by the door.  “Why are you being this dramatic?”

“I feel hung over and tired and I knew you wouldn’t say no to pastries whilst I try and wake myself up, so here we are.”

They ‘clink’ cups together and Seonghwa makes a noise like sex when he takes the first sip of his long black.  Yeosang grimaces at him. 

“How you drink that stuff is beyond me.”

“Listen, Mister Double Shot Hazelnut, don’t come at me about my drinks choices. I know you are probably 80% sugar.”

Yeosang looks offended and draws himself up to his full height and juts a stubborn chin at him. “I resent that remark.  I’d say I’m maybe 25% sugar.  The rest is sarcasm and general dislike of people.”

Seonghwa snorts and turns to open the bag of pastries.  He fishes out a plain croissant, it’s still warm, and starts ripping it apart and popping strips into his mouth.  

“Godddd,” he mutters, licking his fingers.  “What is it about croissants?”

“I am not sure?” Yeosang says, staring at him warily.  “What is wrong with you today?”

“I just really appreciate the coffee and croissants?” 

Yeosang nods, his expression telling Seonghwa he really doesn’t believe him. 

“Anyways. Your outfit for the day is interesting,” he says, gesturing at his outfit.  “Did you wake up this morning and go: I think I’ll dress like a guy named Chad today.”

Seonghwa looks down at his bare legs and tugs at his sleeveless tank. “It’s going to be hot today.  The studio gets hot.”

“Uh, there is never any excuse to wear,” Yeosang gestures feebly with one hand.  “That.  Honestly.”

Seonghwa forms a scowl and drags his eyes along Yeosang who looks so good, as always.  He keeps very still, makes heavy eye contact with Yeosang.  “You come into my studio, insult my favourite drink, then my outfit.  Are you picking a fight with me?”

Yeosang stares at him.  They stare at one another.  There’s something, something, something. But then Yeosang shakes his head, breaks eye contact. Takes a sip of his own coffee and bites into a croissant of his own. 

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Are you annoyed with me?”

“No, I was teasing you.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm.”

“Today is off to a good start.”

“You look nice,” Seonghwa says.  “I like your t-shirt.”

“Oh.” Yeosang looks down at his t-shirt.  “I’ll make you one.”

“I don’t think it would suit me, to be honest.”

Yeosang stares down at his t-shirt that he had screen printed the word BEST BOY with BEST crossed out and WORST scribbled below it in a pretty handwritten font. 

“Yeah, you like people.”

“Only some people.”

Yeosang’s gaze flickers and meets his.  “So.  About this morning?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I just, you know.  All of it. I asked you to come with me, without context.”

“I said yes,” Seonghwa reminds him.  “I’ll go with you to your grandfather’s 80^th birthday party.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, I am curious about all of it, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” 

“How are you this nice?”

“I’m really not.  I guess I just like you.  I like spending time with you.”

He carefully doesn’t look at Yeosang when he says it but he sees from the corner of his eye as Yeosang’s eyes swing to his face, the way his hands tighten a little on the cup he’s holding. 

“Seonghwa,” Yeosang says and his voice is low low low.  “Are you messing around right now?” 

And Seonghwa is at a loss, because what can he say? He is desperate to touch him and even though they are standing so close, Yeosang’s holding himself poised.  So, instead, he puts his hands in his pockets and he clenches his fists.  This is something.  It’s tentative.  Yeosang looks scared, but not like he wants to run.  It is something.  Yeosang is closer now, somehow and Seonghwa finds it a little difficult to breathe properly.  But he stares at the boy in front of him and swallows a little. 

“No. I don’t mess around, not like this.  Not with you.”  It’s a whisper.  As Seonghwa speaks, Yeosang’s eyes darken. Yeosang is so close now.  So close that all he has to do is tilt his chin just a fraction and he’d be touching his lips to Seonghwa’s.  But he stays like that, very still.  And they breathe together, eyes on each other, hearts too loud. 

“Thank you.”  And Yeosang smiles.  He smiles like Seonghwa’s given him the world.  And he steps back, two steps, but he’s still smiling.  And it makes Seonghwa soar.  He’s shaking.  He’s fucking shaking.  He is shook.  But so is Yeosang.  

“We can cancel today,” he says.  “If you’d rather?”

“No.” Yeosang shakes his head and his bangs get in his eyes and Seonghwa wants to brush them away.  “No, I promised you today.  So lets get started, okay?”

“Okay, yeah.”  Seonghwa draws a ragged breath.  “Just, give me a minute? That was…”

“Intense.”

“Yeah.”

Seonghwa busies himself. He doesn’t know what he’s really doing but he sorts through his pencils, lines up the acrylics. It’s mindless, he does it to pull himself together. 

“Hey, Seonghwa?”  Yeosang’s voice is soft and he glances at him.  He’s taken a seat on one of the stools Seonghwa uses to sit on in front of the easel.  He’s all long limbs and dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I do like you, you know. Like a lot.  More than I possibly should.”

“Oh.”

He watches the flush on Yeosang’s cheeks spread and he smiles. 

“Well.  Good, I’m glad to know that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Should I not have said anything?”

“Shut up and let me have my moment.”

There’s a sound like a strangled gasp from Yeosang but he’s quietly laughing and nodding.  

“Okay, yes.  Have your moment.  I’m just going to be here, by myself, freaking out.”

“Gay panic?” Seonghwa quips thoughtlessly and he watches that light blush go darker and he thinks oh. 

“A little, but mostly, you know.  Just dealing with emotions.”

“Emotions are the worst.”

“They really are.  You seem good at them though.”

Seonghwa hums.  He goes back to the table, stands close to Yeosang and drinks his coffee and finishes his croissant.

“I’m glad I fooled you,” he says, and he’s being honest.

Yeosang is staring at him, staring his mouth.  “You have a thing,” he says, tilting his chin.  “On your lip.”

And Seonghwa wants to laugh because this is so stupid, so KDrama romcon.  He raises a hand and swipes his thumb over his lip, picks up the flake of pastry and pops it back into his mouth. 

“Better?”

“Sure?” Yeosang says and he seems to have difficultly looking away from Seonghwa’s mouth.  “I mean, yes.  Would not have been comfortable having you paint me with crumbs on your face.  Awkward.”

“So awkward.”  Seonghwa turns around, suddenly. What the fuck is going on today?  “Fuck, okay.  Head in the game.  Come on.  Let me show you the sketches properly.”

Yeosang hops off the chair and comes over to where Seonghwa has his sketchbook open.  They chat about the smaller sketches, and Yeosang again points to the one he told Seonghwa he preferred.  It is his favourite one too and Seonghwa feels a little vindicated.  

“Okay, lets get you changed and set up.  You can change there, if you like?” He points to the screen.  “I’ll sort out the carpets and cushions.”

Yeosang nods and grabs his backpack and heads to the screen.  Seonghwa pulls several carpets onto of one another.  They are gorgeous thick things he’d inherited from the previous studio occupant.  They must have cost a lot of money when they were new.  They looked Persian but they were patchy in parts.  Seonghwa loves them.  Whenever he uses them, he thinks that this is what you call faded grandeur.  Then a thought strikes him and he stills. 

“I’m going to paint you amongst ruins,” he tells Yeosang. 

“Uh, sure, whatever you want, Hwa.”

He smiles at the nickname.  He pulls out the floor cushions and nods to himself.  The colours are great and will compliment Yeosang skin tone and show off the black of his shirt. 

“What’s taking you so long?” He calls over his shoulder.  He turns when he hears a noise and his breath just. Stops. 

Yeosang isn’t looking at him.  Instead he’s got his head down as he fiddles with the leather collar around his neck, muttering.  He’s dressed in the black silk shirt he’d sent Seonghwa a picture off and that’s it.  Possibly, there are boxers underneath the shirt, but it comes to mid-thigh. His legs are bare, showing off his lightly muscled thighs and toned calves. 

“Fuck sake,” he mutters, looking up at Seonghwa with pleading eyes.  “Help me with the fucking clasp before I cut it up and throw it in the trash.”

“Sure, yes,” Seonghwa says, feeling brave and hot and dizzy all at the same time.  He steps towards him.  “Are you okay-?”  He means, are you okay with me this close? Are you okay with me putting a collar on you? Are you okay with me touching you? 

Yeosang sucks in a breath and nods.  “Yeah, yes.  Just I can’t find the…” He tugs on the leather and swears.  “Fuck.”

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.  Let me.” Seonghwa pushes his hands down and away.  “Just, calm down, okay? It’s fine. I’ll help you.” 

They’re close.  Seonghwa is aware of their height difference, which isn’t a lot, but it’s enough. He steps around Yeosang so he’s at his back, and Yeosang bends his head forward, giving him access to the buckle of the collar. Seonghwa’s hands tremble slightly as he gets his hands on the collar. 

“I’m going to check it’s not too tight.  That means I’m going to touch you,” he tells Yeosang.  “Tell me you’re okay with that.”

The silence drags on for almost too long before Yeosang nods. 

“I’m not touching you until you tell me with your words, pretty thing.”  Seonghwa doesn’t know why he calls him that, right then, but Yeosang gives a shudder.

“I’m okay with you touching me.” His voice is soft and low and barely there, but then he reaches up and wraps his fingers around Seonghwa’s wrist where it’s hanging at his side, the touch barely there, then it’s gone.  Yeosang’s voice is steadier when he speaks again. “I’m okay.”

Seonghwa is so careful. He crooks a finger under the leather, the feel of Yeosang’s skin impossibly soft against his, and loosens it just a fraction before slipping the clip into the hole and securing the rest of the leather under the guide.  

“I have this too,” Yeosang says, and hands him a length of chain.  “It clips on the ring.”

Seonghwa looks at the length of silver chain in his hand and he makes himself step back, noping out of clipping it to the wide collar.  “No,” he says.  “No.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it just doesn’t fit with what I want to paint.”

“Okay, sure. I get it.”

“Jesus.” He rubs his face. “I just made it weird.”

“No? I do get it.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

“With the chain you take away choice.”

He gets it.  He fucking gets it and Seonghwa nods, relieved. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind this concept?”

“No,” Yeosang says and his eyes are on his face and they are wide. “I trust you.”

“I won’t sell it,” he says.  “I’ll give it to you after the show.”

Yeosang looks down and smiles. It’s a quirk of his lips and Seonghwa pushes his hands into his pockets.  

“Okay, let’s get started.  Do you need anything? I got all the snacks and water.  I figure we can get lunch ordered in later?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He walks forward and looks at the nest Seonghwa had made on the floor.  “Can I move things around a little?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Seonghwa moves so he’s behind his easel. He presses his head against the canvas and lets out a breath as he listens to Yeosang moving around. 

“So, like this?”

Seonghwa thinks he’s going to die.  Yeosang is on his knees amongst the cushions, but his legs are splayed behind him a little. The black silk shirt makes his pale skin glow.  He’s got it unbuttoned, like in the sketch, and it’s open to midway down his stomach, revealing far too much skin.  With the collar around his neck, he looks delectable. He looks like a fallen angel. 

Seonghwa walks around him, making small adjustments to the cushions.  He has a brush in his hand and he uses it to nudge the shirt closed a little.  He uses it to tilt Yeosang’s chin up, angles his jaw just so. He taps the end to his chin. 

“Mouth,” he says.  “Part your lips.”

Yeosang does as instructed. 

“Eyes up, on me.”

He looks incredible.  Seonghwa wants wants wants.  But he walks away.  

“I’m setting an alarm for forty minutes. Do you think you can hold it until then?” 

“Sure.” 

“What do you want to listen to?”

“Anything is fine. Music, podcasts, whatever.”

Seonghwa scrolls through is playlist.  He finds an acoustic playlist and hit splay.  He goes to stand behind his easel, taps the brush against his lips, staring at Yeosang and starts. 

***

It’s hours later.  The sun is setting and there’s a soft glow through the windows, lighting up the studio.  Yeosang is in the same position and he’s been sitting patiently, whilst Seonghwa works.  They’ve had lunch, pizza and taken breaks, but Yeosang stayed a little quiet.  They listened to music, to some podcasts and Seonghwa spoke to him, stream of consciousness stuff.  He also hummed with some of the songs that he knew and he watched as Yeosang sunk deeper and deeper into himself, his eyes losing focus.  

It made him wonder as he watched Yeosang’s beautiful face as the shadows hollowed out his cheeks and cast his lips more prominently. He stood, checking his watch.  They had five minutes left, but it was enough.  He cancelled the clock, then checked the settings, making the alarm tone ring.  It had been the only way Yeosang would surface previously, not responding to Seonghwa’s voice. 

“Hey,” he said as Yeosang focussed on him, blinking heavily.  He knelt in front of him.  “I think we should call time.  You’ve been sitting for me all day.”  He held out a bottle of water.  “Here, drink some water.  Are you hungry? Would you like anything?”

Yeosang took the bottle from him and drank deep.  Seonghwa watched his throat work.  Some of the water escaped his lips and trailed down the column of his throat, down his chest. 

“Sangie?” 

Yeosang’s eyes were heavy when he managed to catch his gaze.  “Baby, are you okay?”

“Baby?”

Seonghwa bit his lip.  Fuck. His voice was barely even there. 

“Yeosang.”

“Call me baby,” Yeosang said.  “Please.”

“I’m not…sure, baby.  Whatever you want.”

Yeosang shuddered and his eyelids drooped.  His lashes cast long shadows over his cheeks. 

“So tired, Hwa,” he said.  “How am I so tired?  Did nothing.”

“It’s hard work sitting still for so long, baby.  You did so well, my pretty thing.”

“Hmm.”  His smile was dreamy.  “I like it. Can I nap?”

“Sure.” He took the bottle of water away from him and watched as Yeosang folded in on himself and canted sideways onto the pillows around him.  “I’ll bring you a blanket.”

It was still warm and the blanket he found was thin and light.  He knelt at Yeosang’s side and draped it over him. 

“You okay?” 

Yeosang nods and sighs a little.  “So tired.”

“Have a rest.  I’ll wake you up in a bit.  I’ll take you for dinner.”

“Stay?”

Seonghwa stops midway in the process of standing up. 

“Stay? Yeosang, I don’t think-,” he says but Yeosang reaches out and takes his wrist.  Again the touch is barely there.  

“Please.  You don’t have to touch me.  Just be near me.”

Seonghwa swallows.  He could do that.  He could do that and not let his heart hurt. 

“Okay.”  He lies down next to Yeosang, facing him.  “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.”  Yeosang’s eyes hold mysteries as he stares at Seonghwa.  “What is happening?”

“I’m not sure,” Seonghwa admits.  “It scares me a little.”

“It’s okay,” Yeosang says, soft soft, like a dream.  He’s close, his lips are so close.  “It’s okay.”

His eyes drift shut and Seonghwa marvels at how beautiful this boy is.  How trusting of him. It feels heavy, this trust.  Like it is something. 

They sleep, somehow they fall asleep and Seonghwa wakes up hours later with Yeosang curled up against his chest, one hand under his cheek, the other under Seonghwa’s tank top, fingers splayed over his chest.  Seonghwa is sleeping on one folded arm, the other resting lightly draped over Yeosang’s hip.  And they are close.  It feels good.  It’s something. 

They wake up when it starts getting light.  Yeosang is close.  His eyes are a little surprised but he’s not freaked out. He’s staring at Seonghwa as his eyelids flutters and he becomes aware.  Of them.  Of falling asleep.  Of Yeosang still soft in his arms.  And he is in his arms and it feels so good and he’s not moving away. 

“It’s early,” Seonghwa says.  “The sun isn’t even up properly.”

“I know,” Yeosang says back.  “We slept.”

“I know.”

“It’s nice.”

“I know.”

They share a smile.  Yeosang’s eyes drift shut again and he scoots a tiny bit closer. The hand against Seonghwa’s chest splays wider and Yeosang makes a soft noise of contentment and falls asleep again. 

Seonghwa watches him and wonders what this means. He leans his head forward so he can rest his cheek against Yeosang’s head and drifts off again. 

They wake up again when its full light. Yeosang stretches, lazy like a cat and immediately curls up again. 

“That was good. You have magic pillows, I think.”

Seonghwa grins.  “You were out like a light last night.”

“I know. It was great.  Thanks for indulging me.”

“Least I could do.  You were very patient with me yesterday.  You take direction well.”

Yeosang blushes a little.  “Shit, I slept in the collar.  Can you help?”  He sits up a little and turns around so that Seonghwa could take it off. 

“Stop squirming, god,” Seonghwa rasps and presses his fingertips to Yeosang’s neck.  “Stay still. If you squirm I can’t get it off.”

“I need to pee, though,” Yeosang says, no trace of embarrassment.  “I didn’t realise how much I need to pee until I just sat up.”

Seonghwa laughs, breathless, and undoes the buckle.  “There, you’re free to go pee.  Put on pants.  You’ll give the security guard a heart attack.”

“No time. Gotta pee.”

And Yeosang stands, a bit wobbly, and Seonghwa laughs at him as he brushes a hand through his hair, realises that his silk shirt is a mess and that he looks very questionable, but then he just shrugs and says: “Fuckit.” And makes his way out of Seonghwa’s studio to the large shared bathroom and shower all the studios in the warehouse shares. 

Seonghwa gets up, folds the blanket neatly and stores it away.  He moves the cushions away and looks over the snacks they had left.  There was some cold pizza too, but he was hungry, like proper starving.  He eats a pizza slice and makes two cups of instant coffee for them.  

When Yeosang comes back, looking fresh faced, with his bangs a little wet, he hands him a coffee. 

“My turn,” he says.  “I just grabbed some cold pizza.  There’s more left.  I’ll take you for breakfast.”

He makes quick work of his own ablutions and washes his face.  He stares at himself in the mirror.  He looks the same.  He definitely does, but he doesn’t feel the same. 

Yeosang is, thank god, fully dressed when he gets back.  He’s wearing the same clothes as he came in the day before.  “I have a spare shirt in here, if you want it,” he tells Seonghwa.  

“Oh, yeah.  Thanks.”  Seonghwa shucks his tank top off and tosses it onto the couch and turns back to  Yeosang who passes him, unsurprisingly, a black t-shirt. 

“Abs,” Yeosang says.  “Why do you have abs?”

“I?” Seonghwa looks down at his stomach. “Dancing? And I go to gym when I can.”

“Of course you do.”

“You have abs,” Seonghwa points out. 

“Do I tho?” Yeosang looks so doubtful it makes Seonghwa laugh.  

“I’m not sure what to make of today’s t-shirt of choice,” he says as he smooths it down.  It’s a little snug over his shoulders.  

Yeosang stands back and a smile so fat it must hurt breaks out on his face.  Before Seonghwa can say anything, he takes his phone out and snaps a picture of him.  

“That’s going on the group chat,” he says and dances out of Seonghwa’s reach.  “No, no, no.  Too late, it’s sent.”

Seonghwa’s backed him up against his shelving unit that holds all his paints and Yeosang’s leaning as far back away from him as he can but he’s laughing and it’s a little breathless and a lot cute. 

“You are a menace,” he tells Yeosang.  “You can be glad I like you.”

Yeosang bats his lashes and smirks a little.  “Does this mean I get to choose breakfast?”

Seonghwa watches him closely.  They’re not touching, he’s careful not to, but Yeosang seems relaxed and happy and not freaked out by their proximity. 

“Sure, whatever you want. Pretty thing.” And there it is.  The hitch of breath.  The pink flush. 

“Are you calling me that because you know it flusters me?”

“Yes, but also, because it’s true. It suits you.”

“Who’s a menace now?” 

Seonghwa steps back and smiles at him.  

“Did you look at your painting?” 

“No. You covered it. I didn’t want to presume…”

Seonghwa just tilts his head in invitation and Yeosang moves towards him.  He leads him to the easel.  He takes the dust cloth off and stands aside so that Yeosang could see the painting. 

He’s painted Yeosang kneeling on his nest of pillows, head tilted towards the viewer, long column of his neck visible. His full lips are parted and his eyes are focussed on the viewer, maybe to something behind the viewer.   The collar looks cruel against his pale flesh, but it draws the eye.  The black silk of the shirt is in sharp contrast to his skin. The view makes Yeosang look pliable but there’s a challenge to the set of his sharp jaw, to the expression in his eyes, that speaks of the fact that  the pliability the viewer sees is maybe wishful thinking. 

The room Seonghwa’s painted around him, which needs completion, is the ruins of what could only be assumed as a seraglio of an era long gone.  There are plush cushions strewn around, a broken wall that gives a view over a harbour in the distance. 

“It’s a story,” Yeosang says and he sounds surprised.  His hand hovers over the painting.  “You did all this yesterday?”

“It’s not finished yet,” Seonghwa says.  “I’ll finish the detail over the next few days.”  He looks at Yeosang.  “What do you think?”

“It’s something.”  He sounds completely gone and Seonghwa worries that he’s not okay.  But then he looks at Seonghwa and his eyes are huge. “How do you make my skin look like that?” He leans closer and then pulls back. “Do I look like that? Seonghwa -.”

“Yes?”

“You are so talented.” He touches the canvas, just the corner of it. “I don’t know what to say.  Thank you.”

“Oh my god, can you not look so devastated when you thank me? I can’t tell if you’re going to cry or what?”  Seonghwa wants to curl in on himself. 

Yeosang turns to him then.  He steps closer to Seonghwa and puts his hand softly against his t-shirt, over the printed word where it says BOY TOY and looks him in the eye. 

“I love the painting.  It is incredible. I am in awe of your talent.  Is that better? Are you reassured?”    

Seonghwa laughs then, relief flooding his body. “Yes, thank you. My fragile ego is assuaged.”

“Oh good.  But I am really hungry.  So, please feed me?”

“Yes, whatever you want, baby.”

Seonghwa closes the window, turns off the fan and covers the painting again, before grabbing his backpack and following Yeosang out of the room. 

They grab breakfast at an American style diner and they eat several pancakes, bacon and follow it up with fresh fruit and a lot of coffee. 

“So.”

“So,” Seonghwa says halfway through his second plate of pancakes. 

“So, about my family,” Yeosang pauses for a moment. “They are very, how do I put this? Demanding.  They always have been. I lost my parents when I was seven and my brother was a three. So my uncle and aunt raised us.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yes, he’s four years younger than me.”

“You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“We’re not really that close.  He’s fully under their sway.”

“Okay.”

“So, here’s the thing.  My family wants me to take over the family business when I graduate.”

“Oh.  Oh shit.”

“Yes, so.  I’m going home to tell them that I’m not.  That I’m a fashion major.”

“But surely they must know?”

“Not really.  I’m putting myself through school. My father had set up a trust fund for me when I was born.  He was a very rich man, independently wealthy. He married into my mother’s family who took us in after their death.  So I’ve used that to fund my schooling.  It is one of the reasons my family hate me. I don’t need them and they hate that.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Seonghwa says.  “I mean, I don’t know the story.”

“You’ll see, when you meet them.”

“Why do they hate you?”

“I’m not biddable. I don’t fit the image of the perfect heir.  Which is why they love my brother so much. But, until he’s of age, and educated, he can’t take over the company, but I can so.”

Seonghwa watches as Yeosang sneaks a strawberry off his plate onto his own even though he has his own stack of fruit. 

“What about your grandfather?” 

“He is difficult.  He rules the family, but he’s getting older and is frail.  My uncle now runs the company and my aunt is his right hand man.”

“I think I’m starting to understand now, why you want me to go with you.”

“Will you though? Will you still go with me?”

“Will you make me a t-shirt that says: I’m here to fuck shit up?”

Yeosang gasps a laugh out loud.  “Oh my god.”

Seonghwa stares at him and grins and takes a risk.  He presses a finger under Yeosang’s chin, tilting his head up so he can look him in the eye.  “I am still going with you.”

“Okay.  Yes, thank you.”  Yeosang dips his head and smiles and he looks inordinately happy and pleased with himself. 

Seonghwa’s phone buzzes and he laughs when he sees the string of messages from their mutual friends. 

“I think you killed everyone with that photo you sent the group,” he says.  “I have an idea.  Scoot over.” 

He sits down next to Yeosang and it’s close close close and Yeosang still for a moment but then he breathes and presses a shoulder against Seonghwa’s.  Seonghwa angles his face so that they look closer than they are and holds the phone out and takes a selfie of the two of them.  He shows Yeosang who grins.  

“I look high,” Yeosang complains.  “Take another one.”

“Okay.”  Seonghwa repositions himself, one arm around Yeosang’s shoulder, pulling him in close as he grins at the camera.  “Say kimchi.”

Yeosang throws his head back a little and laughs and as he does, Seonghwa turns to look at him and takes the photo.  And he sends it to the group.  It’s a great photo.  He doesn’t have to even look at it to know.  

Chapter Text

They spend most of Saturday together.  It should feel weird, but it doesn’t.  Yeosang brings his sketchbooks over to Seonghwa’s studio and curls up in a nest on the floor, arranging and rearranging the myriad of cushions just so, and settles down.  Seonghwa watches him and is reminded of a cat finding the perfect place to settle down in.  He mutters a little, scrunches his nose at an offending pillow, tugs another in its place and gives a little sigh of happiness when he sinks back down. 

Yeosang does some schoolwork, he sketches, he dozes. He talks to Seonghwa and Seonghwa can’t quite believe he’s got Yeosang in his space, like this.  It’s definitely something. 

Seonghwa finishes up the painting, adding all the finer detail.  He grabs his polaroid camera and takes a few photos of Yeosang sprawled on the floor.  He’d offered to make him space at one of the tables in the room, but Yeosang had waved him off.  He pins the pictures to the cork board on the wall above his desk.  It fits with the candids he’d taken of his other friends in the past. 

Yeosang drags him out for lunch.  The security guard looks amused by their bickering about where to go for food.  Some of the other occupants of the studios they pass wave at them when they get back and Yeosang strikes up, much to Seonghwa’s surprise, a conversation with a tattooed Valkyrie of a woman who’d only recently moved into the shared space.  She was a jeweller and designer and Yeosang looked like he had fallen in love with her as she showed him some of her rings. 

Seonghwa watches as Yeosang pores over the delicate pieces, watches him try on several rings, muttering under his breath.  He looks completely unguarded and fully engaged and it makes Seonghwa feel so soft for this boy who seems so intent on keeping the world out and yet here he was, telling this woman that he was a fashion student and always wanted to know about designing jewellery.  Seonghwa zones out, watching Yeosang being adorably reserved yet eager as the woman spoke to him about her design process.  As she spoke he continued trying on a variety of rings spread out before him.   When Yeosang turns to look at Seonghwa, holding up his hand for his opinion, Seonghwa snaps out of his daze and walks closer.  

Yeosang’s hands aren’t big, not as big as his, but they weren’t delicate either.  The rings he chose all look good on him, but Seonghwa’s gaze was drawn to a slender silver band maybe half a centimetre wide.  It had a rough finish, slightly antiqued.  Yeosang had slipped it onto the ring finger of his right hand.  It fit perfectly.  He paired it with several smaller stacking rings. 

“They all look good,” he says, watching Yeosang slip them off and rearrange them on the velvet display box.  “Are you getting any?”

“Not today.” Yeosang smiles at the woman and it’s a shy, almost there thing.  “But I’ll be back.  Once I’ve had my show and it doesn’t flop, I’ll be back.”

Seonghwa catches the woman’s eye and purposefully drops his gaze to the wide ring, before looking up at her again, tilting his chin a little. 

“Well, you know where I am.  I run a market stall too when I can get a slot. I’m also here most days.  I see your boyfriend often.”

Yeosang flushes and shoots a look at Seonghwa who feels like he’s about to combust. 

“Oh we’re not…”

“We’re just good friends,” Seonghwa rumbles and he tries to sound nonchalant and easy about it. Whilst remembering how Yeosang had curled up against him the night before. 

“Ah, I see.” She nods as if she does see.  “Well, take these anyway.”

She hands each of them a business card.  Seonghwa pockets his as she makes a show of replacing the rings, having nudged the wider one to the side a little.  Her glance at him made Seonghwa nod behind Yeosang’s back. He had savings from his commissions so he would be able to get this small thing for Yeosang who was working to some kind of  scheme of self denial he had set himself. 

After lunch, Seonghwa set Yeosang’s painting aside to start work on a mixed media piece he had been thinking about it as a palate cleanser.  He moved around the studio, singing to the radio, as he dug around in drawers for stuff he wanted to use, then finally knelt next to the bin to find an empty soft drink bottle. 

“Hwa?”

“Hmm.”

“Hwa, what are you doing?”

He turns to Yeosang who has clearly been watching him for some time.  He looks down at the stuff he was clutching to his chest and, okay, fine yes, he did look like he had somehow lost his mind.

He turns to the table and dumps everything onto it. Yeosang draws closer so he could see. 

“Last week’s newspaper, this is vintage paper from a Russian dictionary, an unused serviette - look at the pattern that’s pressed into it.  Touch it.  It feels good, right? Then this is some lace I picked up at tiny market I stumbled across one night when I couldn’t sleep.  I think it’s vintage - look at the colour of it.” He prods the various things.  “I will cut the bottle open and use the edges to make marks in the paint. This wool is something I picked up a while ago, shortly after I got the studio. I haven’t used much of it in my art, but I think I will.  And look at this. I love the way this corrugated cardboard feels - it’s a great substrate but I think I’ll use it to make marks in the gesso.”

He stills when Yeosang’s gaze met his. 

“I have no idea what you want to do with all this…” he gestures.  “Stuff, but I’m there for it.  Are you okay with me staying?”

Seonghwa blinks.  He’s not used to having anyone in his space for extended periods of time, especially not when he’s making art and lost in the flow of it.  But somehow, Yeosang’s presence doesn’t bother him.  

“Yeah, I’m okay with you here.  Unless you have something else to do?”

“No. Today I promised myself to get some set work done and I got most of that done this morning, so, you know. I can leave if you want the studio to yourself?”

“Actually.”  Seonghwa looks at him.  “I have a favour to ask you.”

Yeosang stills.  “A favour?”

“I want to buy a small inexpensive sewing machine.”

“What.”

The flatness in Yeosang’s voice makes Seonghwa laugh.  

“Your face, bro.  Jesus.”

But Yeosang shifts and crosses his arms over his chest.  “Why on this green earth do you want a sewing machine?”

“So I can sew stuff together?” Seonghwa turns around. “Let me show you.”

He rummages in one of the crates near the table and comes out with a sheaf of papers and a book.  A magazine. 

“I want to try and do something like this.  With these.”

These are small pieces of art he’s created over the years on a variety of substrates.  And this is an article in the art magazine about binding your own art into journals.  Yeosang takes the magazine from him to look at the article. 

“I mean, you don’t really need a sewing machine.  It’ll be a waste of money and you don’t really have the space.  You can always just borrow one of mine.  I’ll buy you your own set of needles to use.” 

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to look surprised. 

“What, no. I mean, your machines make clothes.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m buying you your own set of needles. I’ll teach you how to use the machine too.  Paper blunts sharp needles.” A thought occurs to him and he stares at Seonghwa, eyes narrowed.  “On one condition.”

“What?” 

“You do not touch my scissors.  If you come near my scissors with your paper, the police will never find your body.  I have my ways and I definitely have the means.” Yeosang steps closer and Seonghwa finds himself backed up against his table.  “Swear it.”

He licks his lips.  He should not be turned on right now, but he is.  Deadly intent Yeosang is something else. He blinks, drops his gaze to Yeosang’s mouth, so near his own, swallows with difficulty.  

“Uh, yeah, sure. I swear I won’t touch your scissors.”

Yeosang stays in his space like that for a little while, leaning forward, pressing Seonghwa back probably knowing full well what he was doing to Seonghwa, but then he steps back, his face back to normal, an almost smile on his lips again. 

“Good,” he nods.  “We can work on binding your art during the week.”

Seonghwa lets out a huff. 

“I have never met anyone that intense about scissors before,” he admits and Yeosang’s eyes narrow. 

“My scissors are incredibly expense.  I won’t even let my professor touch them.”

“Okay.” Seonghwa holds up his hands in defeat.  “No touching your stuff.  I get it.  Bloody hell.”

Yeosang nods, seemingly happy with that, sinking down amongst his cushions again.  

“Okay, now stop procrastinating and make art. I want to see what you come up with after seeing that,” he gestures vaguely to the stuff on the table. 

“If you’re going to nag me, I will kick you out.”

Yeosang smirks and Seonghwa does a double take. He is being so cute, omg.   “You won’t. You like me.”

“Why did I ever admit that?” Seonghwa mutters to himself as he hides himself behind his easel, but there’s a grin tugging at his mouth.  “I must have been high.”

“Yah, I heard that, Chad.”

“Shut up, pretty thing. I’m trying to art hard.”

An answering snort makes him chuckle and he spins his paint brush between his fingers as if it’s a drumstick, contemplating the prepared canvas.  And then he starts. 

***

Yeosang watches Seonghwa in-between finishing off his homework and sketching.  The boy looks so comfortable in his skin that Yeosang can’t help but admires it.  He’s wearing another atrocious pair of shorts and a top that no one should be allowed to even sell.  It’s basically two strips of fabric sewed together at the shoulders, leaving far too much skin on display.  

Seonghwa’s studio is hot though, and he understand why he’s dressed like that, but even so. It’s just not good for the community as a whole, he thinks.  That much muscle, flashes of abs and shoulders on display could cause accidents.  It shouldn’t be allowed, basically.  In fact, no, he decides.  Not even allowed, it should be banned.  Illegal.  

And Yeosang thinks that if it were illegal he’d be the one being locked up because Seonghwa is beautiful and he cannot stop staring at him.  There’s a part of Yeosang that wishes he could sketch the way he seems to do so effortlessly, but his own sketches as he watches Seonghwa moves is all about fluidity and grace.  Seonghwa moves like silk feels, Yeosang thinks to himself.  He watches as Seonghwa shifts his stance behind the easel, watches his feet placement and smiles to himself.  Seonghwa may see himself as an artist, but he’s very much a dancer too and can’t escape the groove. Yeosang watches as his feet move and shift as he does, unconsciously following some kind of internal dance.  He’s humming to himself along with the playlist and his voice is low and deep.

Yeosang likes him.  He likes how honest Seonghwa is about liking him, about being affected by him and sometimes he’d find him watching Yeosang and his gaze would be so different to the way he was used to being watched. There was a want there, sure, but it somehow didn’t feel invasive or abrasive.  It was tentative and kind and warm.  It was the kind of look that spoke of lazy mornings, sunny days and blue skies, shared kisses and being soft soft soft. 

Yeosang huffs to himself, quietly, so that he doesn’t distract the other boy from making art. He wasn’t a romantic. He couldn’t afford to be a romantic.  But it felt nice, being looked at like that and being seen by a boy.  

No, he decided, not just by any boy.  By Seonghwa specifically. The thought makes him smile and he turns his head away, hiding it in the crook of his elbow. He is being stupid and reckless.  None of this fit in with his five year plan and he wasn’t going to throw it away just because a pair of dark eyes made his heart beat a little faster. 

He holds that thought close as a reminder.  He is lying on his stomach sketching, really just doing line drawings, loving how easy it was sharing this small space, with nothing to distract him. He drops his pencil to the side and closes his eyes, feeling deeply content, stretching a little.  He dozes off and only wakes up when Seonghwa kneels in front of him, tugging the sketchpad and his pencils away from him. 

The sun was setting and the studio was gloomy with shadows. He sits up and pushes his hair out of his eyes. 

“Hey, sorry. I fell asleep again.”

“I’d say I’m sorry my company is so crappy, but you looked like you needed the sleep.”

“Yeah, well.” Yeosang arches his back, groaning when it clicks.  “I don’t sleep much anyway.  I mean, I fall asleep okay but then I wake up.  And I can’t get back to sleep. I lie there and just think about everything and it just makes it hard to fall back asleep again.”

“Maybe you just need someone to cuddle with?” Seonghwa says and stills, his eyes huge.  “Oh, I mean. Not like that but, fuck shit.”

“Are you offering a bespoke cuddling service now too?” He knows he’s being terrible but he can’t help it.  He keeps his expression innocent, questioning.  He enjoys the usually cool Seonghwa looking a bit flustered and a lot cute.

“No?” Seonghwa scoffs. “You’re just teasing now and I don’t know if I can cope with cruel Yeosang right now.”

“Which of my many personas would you prefer right now?”

“The one who likes my art even when it’s shit.  Come look.  I made a mess.”  Seonghwa flicks on a table lamp and adjusts the light so that it lit up the easel then he turns makes a grabby hand at Yeosang and he’s amused to see Seonghwa’s fingers are covered in golds and soft ivory paint.  It’s somehow streaked along his arms and in his hair too and somehow, he’s managed to get some on his face. 

“Did you roll around in your paint?” He teases as he stands up and steps over the cushions.  “You’ve managed to get it on your face and in your hair.  You’re like a small child, honestly.”

“Still not the Yeosang I want,” Seonghwa says, and he is definitely pouting.  He’s speaking in pout and honestly, it is the cutest fucking thing.  Yeosang bites his lips to stop himself from laughing. 

“Okay, Hwa. Gimme a sec.”  He turns away and pretends to do something to his face and turns back with an overly bright expression and a smile bordering on a rictus settled on his face. 

“What the everliving hell,” Seonghwa breathes, stepping away.  “That is just so fucking scary.  Put that face away.  Jesus.”

Yeosang creases up and laughs.  “Okay, all seriousness, show me.  I’ve been dying to see what you’ve been doing with all that stuff.”

He steps next to Seonghwa and stares. 

He’s used to colour coming from Seonghwa. Vibrant blues and greens and reds and yellows. His paintings all evoke deep passion and a kind of tamed wildness, even the painting he did of Yeosang.  This new piece is something altogether different.  Not as large as the canvas he used for Yeosang, he’s covered it in a collage of papers, paints, and marks but the tones are honeyed neutrals, ivories and the faintest hints of blue.  Yeosang has no idea how he’d managed to create the layers or the textures but he wants to reach out and touch, but obviously, that could be a real issue, so he just bends forward to get closer, examining the details.  Seonghwa had somehow managed to dye the wool and adhered it to the centre of the canvas in the shape of person. The lace, now painted a rich honey gold, was the figure’s crown.  Yeosang stares at the shape, in half profile and something shifted.  It was just an outline, but Yeosang knew. 

“It’s me.”

Seonghwa nods, his gaze heavy on the piece. 

“It’s not like any of your other pieces.”

“I know.  I wanted to challenge myself and use a limited palette.  What do you think?”

Yeosang glances at him and sees him worrying at his lower lip, pinching it painfully between his thumb and forefinger.  Without thinking, he reaches over and tugs Seonghwa’s hand away from his mouth and presses it down, against his side. He waits until Seonghwa looks at him, his expression wary. 

“Hey, stop that looking like that.  It looks great. I have no idea how you managed to do all of this,” he gestures to the canvas.  “And I honestly am in awe.”

“Hmm, not sure though.” He raises his other hand and nibbles on his thumb a little, head tilted to the side, a heavy frown drawing his dark eyebrows together. 

“Don’t be an ass, Hwa. Are you honestly not seeing what I’m seeing?”

Seonghwa frowns at him.  “What?”

“You have taken bits of rubbish, don’t make that face, you took stuff out of the bloody BIN, and you made art from it.  Incredible art.  I love it. I don’t know how you did it, but I love. IT. The muted colours are inspired and just, when I look at it, it makes me feel. And that’s all we can ask of art.  To make us feel.”

There a silence that stretches for some time.  Seonghwa’s frowning heavily at the canvas.  Then he turns to Yeosang. 

“You know something? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so many sentences all at once, and I think I’m in shock.” Seonghwa flinches away from Yeosang when he grabs one of his discarded paintbrushes and starts chasing him around the studio. 

***

They meet everyone for dinner and drinks later.  Yeosang had badgered Seonghwa into putting on clothes that weren’t Chad-like and had changed too before meeting him outside his apartment building. 

Seonghwa had to take a moment when Yeosang came down. He was still in black, which Seonghwa loved, but he’d opted for a light, almost sheer black button down with long sleeves and loosely tucked tucked the hem into his arty ripped skinny jeans that he’d added embroidered vintage band named patches to.  He’d also added some smudged eyeliner and the faintest wisp of dark shimmery eyeshadow, making his eyes pop. He looked, Seonghwa thought without any remorse, good enough to pin down and kiss. 

The walk to the restaurant is short and neither of them feel chatty.  It’s enough to just walk next to one another.  Seonghwa is hyper-aware of Yeosang at his side.  In the past, there would be a good foot to two feet of distance between them whenever they walked anywhere.  Now, now they were maybe twenty centimetres apart and the nearness is leaving him dizzy. 

The restaurant is only marginally cooler and the floor to ceiling windows are pulled back, opening out onto the pavement where they’ve also put tables and chairs.  

The place is noisy but not overly crowded.  The others are already there when they turn up and they quickly rearrange themselves to make place for them.  Yeosang is ushered into the booth so that he sits against the wall with Seonghwa next to him.  For a moment Seonghwa glances at Mingi who gives him a slow nod of the head.  This was planned and he appreciated it.  If Yeosang noticed how he’d been given the most secure seat, the one where he is least likely to get jostled, he gave no sign. Instead he was talking in hushed tones with San who kept glancing at Seonghwa and grinning. 

Seonghwa loves how easily his friends have folded themselves around Yeosang.  Hongjoong brought Yunho and Seonghwa wonders if they were back together again.  Hongjoong looks happy and seems content to lean against Yunho as they wait for their food.  Yunho watches Hongjoong with fierce adoration that is unmistakable. 

“They are really sweet together,” Yeosang whispers in his ear.  “I now understand why Hongjoong was such an asshole when I met you guys the first time.  If I broke up with a boy as pretty as that, I’d be too.”

Seonghwa scoffs a little.  “Don’t let him hear you call Yunho pretty.  You’d be throwing hands in the street in a hot minute and I’d have to step in and fight my friend to save your pretty face.”

“Hmm, he sounds possessive.”

“Aren’t we all?” Yeosang’s eyes widen at that and he takes the chance to smirk at him. He turns his head sideways so he can whisper back into Yeosang’s ear.  “Hongjoong already told you I don’t like sharing.  He’s no different.”

Yeosang squirms a little in his seat but then nudges his elbow.  “It’s difficult to forget.  Still can’t believe you thought I was propositioning you both.  What kind of people do you hang out with where that can be a thing?”

“Well,” Seonghwa says, grinning wider.  “There’s a reason the dance crew has a reputation.”

“What.” Yeosang sat up straighter.  “What?”  It’s almost a wheeze now.  His eyes shoot around the table, taking in all the others, including Jongho and Wooyoung who are whispering together like conspirators. 

“Sure, ask anyone.” Seonghwa has difficultly holding in his laughter.  “Hey, you guys, what rep does the dance crew have?”

“You mean, apart from being too fucking hot to handle?” San quips. 

“And the best in the region?” Jongho adds, pulling away from Wooyoung with heavy lidded eyes. 

“Yeah, apart from that,” Seonghwa says with a wink. 

“Oh, yeah.” Mingi pretends to think for a minute.  “Well, we do have the reputation of being fuckbois.  But that’s not us, Sangie.  I swear.  We are good boys.”  He presses his hands together as if in prayer and tries for an innocent look until San does something under the table and a soft gasp escapes him and his head whips to his boyfriend’s.  San merely quirks an eyebrow at him and blinks innocently at Yeosang.  

“We are very good boys,” he intones solemnly, making the entire table erupt with laughter.  Yeosang’s expression goes from horror to amusement. 

“So, the mere fact that I’m hanging out with you lot means my sterling reputation is down the drain?”

“Oh, Sangie,” Wooyoung laughs.  “My poor summer child.  When did you ever think you had a sterling rep?”

“Hey, I’m…” he seems to think about it for a second.  “Okay, well, there was this one time where I did punch a guy…and then made out with his boyfriend.”

There’s silence for a moment and then noise erupted again with people yelling to know more. 

“First Year Yeosang was a bit much,” he confessed with a blush.  “I’ve come a long way, okay.”

“No, but wait a minute.” Seonghwa is now fully intrigued.  “You made out with his boyfriend?”

“In his defence, my roomie was off his face drunk,” Wooyoung explained.  “And he punched the guy because the guy got grabby.”

“It was not the best moment of my young life,” Yeosang admitted, his colour high. “It was a learning experience.”

“What I’m taking from this is that Yeosang is a mean drunk and we should positively get him drunk,” San says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“No,” Yeosang whines, covering his face with both hands.  “No, there’s a reason I don’t drink anymore.”

“Is it because you kiss boys you’re not supposed to kiss?” Seonghwa teases and he can feel Yeosang sliding further down the seat in mortification next to him.  It is the funniest thing ever and Seonghwa struggles to keep his face straight, raising a questioning eyebrow.  “Sangie, enquiring minds need to know.”

“Fuck enquiring minds,” Yeosang mutters from behind his hands covering his face.  “Stop talking right now or I’ll go find other hot guys to wear my clothes.”

This elicits more laughter from everyone.  Seonghwa smiles down at him and nudges his shoulder a little. Everyone is now talking about their various drunk escapades leaving the two of them alone for the time being. 

“It’s okay, pretty thing,” he murmurs.  “This is a judgement free table. If you get drunk and make out with cute boys that’s none of our business at all.”

"It was just a long time ago. I had no clue what I was doing.”

Seonghwa nods, his expression grave because of Yeosang’s tone.  “Okay.”

“Okay.” Yeosang offers him a small quirk of his lips.  “I was really stupid back then. But it was Halloween and we got so hammered.”

“It’s fine, Yeosang.” Seonghwa pressed his thigh against Yeosang’s under the table.  “I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“No, but I want to. I’d like you to know.” He swallows and takes a sip of his beer, fiddling with the condensation on the glass.  “I was really not in a good place in my first year. I’d not ever had the freedom before and I did some stupid shit. I partied a lot, I took risks.  I’m not proud of it, but it just felt so fucking good to let go, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Seonghwa tries not to think about the stupid shit he had gotten up to in his first year of college.  But then Yeosang was talking again, soft and intent. 

“It got really bad.  By the time halloween came round, I felt like I had been cut loose.  Nothing mattered anymore and only alcohol helped, the occasional line or weed or whatever. We went to this party and Wooyoung dressed me in that shirt and collar and towed me around and I was having fun, or I thought I was. I was drunk and high and I was dancing and laughing. I felt good, but I also felt so empty, like nothing I did would ever fill this gap I had sitting under my ribs. I drank more, I smoked more.  Then this asshole came up to me and started pressing himself against me. He got hold of the chain and started dragging me away, towards one of the bedrooms and something just…flipped in my head.  I punched him so hard that I think I broke some of his teeth.” He held up his fist so that Seonghwa could see the marks on his knuckles.  There was a faint scar there and he pressed his lips together and resisted the urge to run a finger over the scar.  “Then I walked away, leaving him bleeding, and I found the guy he was with.  I made out with him, while he watched and then I took his boyfriend home and let him fuck me.”

Seonghwa tries to keep his breathing level as Yeosang speaks, his breath ghosting his ear, hot and urgent, his words tripping over themselves as if telling Seonghwa suddenly is the most important thing in the world right now, like it could save him.  Seonghwa aches, it’s a real physical thing, and he presses into Yeosang’s side and he’s not sure if he’s doing it to ground Yeosang or himself.  Either way, it seems to help them both and Yeosang drops his hand to his lap and presses his fingers against Seonghwa’s knee, just for a moment, then its gone again. 

“Fuck, Sangie.  I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” he breathes, still turned away from the others, face almost pressed to Seonghwa’s shoulder and neck.  “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not. I’m sorry that you were so alone in the first instance. You don’t deserve feeling that way.  No one does.”  He catches those hazel eyes in a steady gaze.  “You know you’ve got me now, right?”

Yeosang stares at him in silence for the longest time.  Not looking away, not even when the waitress bustles up with a large platter holding their food.  

“Right?” He prompts again, a little more insistent. 

Yeosang nods, short and abrupt, expression so serious. “Yeah, I know.”

They stare at one another for a few more seconds, then Yeosang turns his head away purposefully.  Seonghwa lets go of the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and eased away from Yeosang’s side, but Yeosang just shook his head.

“Don’t, it’s fine. Stay.”

Seonghwa stills and felt himself flush at the quiet words and so he does. He stays pressed up against Yeosang as they eat and joke with their friends.  If anyone noticed the intense quiet conversation they had no one mentioned it, but Seonghwa caught Mingi and San staring at him a little hard a few times but chose not to say or do anything about it.  

 So if he’s maybe a little quiet and distracted throughout dinner, and refuses to go on to a club afterwards, then so be it.  Yeosang also begs off, and they leave together, as usual after much whistling and catcalling from the group.  Yeosang doesn’t seem to mind and flips them off behind his back as he falls into step beside Seonghwa. 

“Is this our thing now?” Yeosang asks turning to look at Seonghwa. 

“What?”

“You walking me home?” 

Seonghwa smiles.  “It feels very old fashioned, I like it.”

Yeosang is quiet for a minute but then he smiles softly too and Seonghwa stares.  Because damn. 

“Yeah, I like it too.  I keep wondering if I should invite you up for coffee?”

“Who drinks coffee at this time of the night?” But then he realises what Yeosang said and the implication and his eyes go wide. “Oh what? No, I mean.  No?”

Yeosang is laughing at him now. It’s a quiet sweet laugh.  The cute one that makes him bend forward a little, wrapping his arm around himself, hand pressed against his mouth. 

“God, Hwa, your face.  How do you get flustered every single time?”

“I don’t know. You make me so confused, goddddddd.” Seonghwa doesn’t mind the laugh or the fact that he’s blushing.  He doesn’t mind any of it because Yeosang is smiling at him like he’s a delight. 

“Or if not coffee, maybe I should ask you how you like your eggs in the morning?”

Seonghwa makes  a sound like a dying seagull and Yeosang actually has to stop in the middle of the street to sink down on his knees he’s laughing so much.  

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Hwa.” His words are gasped out and he reaches out, blindingly, gripping Seonghwa’s wrist where he’s standing in front of him.  “I’ll stop now.”

“No, it’s fine. You clearly want me to die an early death, that’s fine.  Here likes Seonghwa, felled by a pretty boy’s cruel teasing.  Avenge him.”

“Farewell, Hwa. It was fun.”

Seonghwa assumes a martyred expressession, rolling his gaze up to the dark skies. 

“I will now go, bravely into that dark night.  Remember me fondly.”  He lightly shakes off Yeosang’s hand and shuffles further along the pavement in a sideways move that somehow Yeosang finds even funnier and he’s laughing harder at him. But then he sits back on his heels and stares at Seonghwa for a second before throwing his head back and wailing. 

“Noooo, my love, come back to me,” He gasps, lifting both hands in plea.  “I am sorry I was being cruel.  I promise I’ll stop.”

“No, you killed me dead,” Seonghwa says, ignoring the looks they were getting from passersby.  “Your utter disregard for my poor heart  has slayed me.”

“Oh I’m so sorry.”  Yeosang tilted his head back up to look at him where he’s come to stand over him again.  “Forgive me?” 

And Seonghwa is lost.  They’re in public and Yeosang is on his knees and there are tears on his face, and he looks so beautiful in the light.  He looks like sin begging for forgiveness.  

“Sure,” Seonghwa says, his voice suddenly too serious to match the laughter still in the air.  He leans down and sees Yeosang’s eyes change from being filled with mirth to something else, some dark and heavy. “I’ll forgive you anything.” He puts both hands on Yeosang’s elbows and lifts him back onto his feet and Yeosang makes a soft startled noise in the back of his throat and tilts his head up to look at Seonghwa.  “You know I’ve got you, no matter what.”

Yeosang doesn’t answer but he gives a brief nod, his eyes heavy on Seonghwa’s lips, then his eyes. 

They fall into step again, without speaking, and Seonghwa pushes his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans.  They come to a junction and someone jostles into them and Yeosang mutters something under his breath as he shifts closer to him and then, when the green man blinks, he stays at Seonghwa’s side, closer than before, arms brushing. 

Seonghwa expects him to step away once there’s more space and they’re away from the crowd at the junction but he doesn’t.

“Hwa?” 

“Yes, pretty?”

“I told you that story about my first year because I wanted you to know how fucked up I was.” He bit his lip.  “I’m not proud of it, but Jesus, I was so fucked up. I still am.  But not like that anymore.”

“You’re not fucked up, Yeosang.  We all go crazy our first year.  I mean, I did some stupid shit my first year.  Like, one time I woke up passed out in some girl’s apartment.  We had no idea how I got there and she didn’t even remember me being at her house party.  So, you know, we all did Stupid shit.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“I honestly can’t say if I did.  I doubt it though. I’ve never, as far as I know, had sex with a woman.”

“Yeah, me either.”

A smile he doesn’t try to hide forms around Seonghwa’s lips.  “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Why are you okay with what I did? I got a reputation, in my first year.  I worked hard since to leave it behind, but I was such a fucking mess.  I’d fuck whoever I wanted, let them fuck me. I smoked, I drank too much, I did drugs.”

Seonghwa stopped walking, turning so he could face Yeosang.  He was close, crowding him a little, but Yeosang stood his ground, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes.  

“It’s not who you are now, right? You’re not self-destructive anymore?” At Yeosang’s headshake he continued. “That boy in the past, that broken boy has found something to anchor him, to make him feel better and dig deep.  I don’t know what that is, but I look at the now-you and I see someone who is beautiful, clever, sharp, funny, courageous, talented. So many things, fuck. I look at you and I am in awe that you even bother hanging out with me.”

“Hwa,” Yeosang starts but Seonghwa pushes him a little further back towards the low wall bordering a small park. 

“No.  I’m not finished.  When I tell you I don’t care about what you did your first year, obviously I mean I care, because it’s you and you could have been hurt so badly.  But you were lonely, scared and I get it.  You were trying to cope as best you could.  Fuck, do I get it.” He runs both hands over his face and through his hair before dropping them to his side. “ But here’s the thing about your past, it’s helped make who you are right now and I have never met anyone as dedicated, as focussed and…” his mind refused to give him another word and he groaned.  “Just so fucking perfect, okay? I need you to understand this, okay?.”

Yeosang stares at him utterly silent, barely breathing. Then he moves forward, the smallest of distances and calmly raised both arms and puts them tentatively around Seonghwa’s shoulders, leaning back a little so he can see his face. 

“Is this okay?” 

Seonghwa nods at the soft question and waits as Yeosang’s arms settle around his shoulders and then he’s pressing himself against Seonghwa in a full body hug.  Seonghwa doesn’t move for few heartbeats, then he tentatively raises both hands and places them lightly on Yeosang’s hips.  He doesn’t pull, he doesn’t tug him closer, he just holds him in place and lets Yeosang have this, leaving him completely in control. It feels like a lot and Seonghwa is happy to just let it happen. 

“Thank you.” Yeosang pulls back, and Seonghwa misses him immediately but he drops his hands to his side and smiles at him.  

“If I get hugs for being nice to you, just tell me and I’ll keep doing it.”

“You are a terrible flirt, Hwa.”  But Yeosang’s pleased expression takes any sting out of his words.

“I am not,” Seonghwa mock-gasps, clutching at his heart.  “I resent that complete and utter lie. I am the best at flirting. And at being hugged.”

They start walking again, slower this time.  It’s more of a meander.  Seonghwa tries not to think too much of it that Yeosang is right next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and the way he smells. 

“You smell nice,” he says.  “Not just tonight, but always.  What do you use?”

“This is not what I expected you to say,” Yeosang answers him.  “But then you tend not to do the expected.  I like that.”

Seonghwa nods, as it makes complete sense, which it doesn’t. 

“So, why do you smell pretty?”

“Well, I shower often…”

“Yah, don’t be an ass.  How do you go from cute and sweet to a complete brat in like five seconds flat.”

“It’s a skill.”

“Hmm.”  In answer Seonghwa leans close, his nose almost pressed against Yeosang’s temple.  “Nice.”

“It’s cologne, from the UK. It’s a British brand, I forget the name.  But I like the scent.”

“Me too. It makes me think of deep forests. You know, the kind I mean, where the trees are so tall they hide the sky.” He tilts his head back and drops his hand back down when he realises he’s reaching up to the sky with one hand.  “It’s dark and earthy.  It makes me want to paint you in a forest.”

Seonghwa notices Yeosang watching him intently after a few paces. 

“What? Do I have food on my face or…?”

“You talk with your whole body, when you describe something, do you know that?”

“Uhm,” Seonghwa says because he is eloquent. 

“It’s sweet. I like it.”

And he has no comeback for that so he just keeps quiet and smiles to himself, quietly pleased and happy.  

They get to Yeosang’s apartment and he turns to look at him intently. 

“So, how do you like your eggs in the morning, Hwa?”

“Oh my god, Yeosang.  Shut up.”  And he grabs his shoulders and spins him around and shoves him a little towards the building’s door.  “Go, go sleep.”

Yeosang huffs a little. 

“Fine, I’ll go.  The rejection hurts, I’ll have you know that.”

“Yeah, I hear you.  It’s not you, it’s me, pretty thing.”  Seonghwa winks and is rewarded with another real grin.  

“Text me?”

“I will.”

“Night, Hwa.  Thanks for today. I had fun.”

“Me too.”

Seonghwa turns to go but looks back to see Yeosang watching him from the open door. 

“Sorry to see you go but love seeing you leave,” he calls out loudly, making a few girls passing by stare and then burst out laughing. 

“What? Did you just…did you just make a comment about my ass?”  Seonghwa tries for shocked but he’s laughing too hard.  “You are a terrible human, Yeosang.  Are you even human?”

“Yah!” He shouts back, gesturing.  “Go home.  You rejected me.  But text me later.”

“Maybe.”

With that, he waves at him and leaves.  He’s still smiling when he gets to his own apartment.  He finds the switches for the aircon and prays that it would work.  The apartment was warm, having been closed up for most of the day.  He has another shower, because it’s still ungodly hot, and as he falls back onto his bed in boxers, he shoots Yeosang a message. 

Seonghwa

Home!

And I had a shower! 

And I have green tea. 

I am an adult. 

I might even get to sleep before 3a.m.

Yeosang

Sounds good. 

Insomnia sux.

Seonghwa

Preach it. 

Hey.

Yeosang

Wot?

Seonghwa

Are you ok?

Yeosang

…

I am, actually. 

Thank you for asking.

Seonghwa

Good. 

Thanks for telling me stuff. 

Yeosang

Yeah.

I just.

You know. 

I wanted you to know that I wasn’t always like this. 

This uptight about being around people and noise.

And being touched. 

Seonghwa

It’s okay. 

You know that right?

I’m not just saying it. 

You do know that it’s okay?

That, as much I like you, I’m your friend first and I respect your boundaries. 

Yeosang

….

Holy fuck. 

Seonghwa

??????

Sangie? Are you okay?

Yeosang

Yeah, you just.

*gestures weakly*

How are you real?

Seonghwa

I’m just checking now.

Yeah, I’m real. 

Fuck, that hurt tho. 

Yeosang

Do I want to know what you just did?

Seonghwa

<image>

Pinched myself. 

I think it’s gonna bruise. 

Yeosang

…

You are trying to kill me, right.

Like. 

ded. 

Seonghwa

??

Yeosang

Look at the picture you just sent me, Hwa. 

Look at it properly. 

Seonghwa

Okay?

What? It’s my hip???

Yeosang

It’s your mf *naked* torso and hip. 

With your abs on display.

Like, there are people who’d pay good money for this shit.

Seonghwa

Pretty thing, are you blushing?

Yeosang

Honestly, I can’t with you rn. 

Seonghwa

You’re blushing.

I know it. 

Hahaha. OmG. 

I’m sorry.  

Yeosang

You sound it. 

Seonghwa

No, but I am. 

I’m sorry I’m not there to see you blushing.

It’s cute. 

you're cute

Yeosang

Ugh. 

I hate being called cute.

Seonghwa

But you don’t mind me calling you pretty thing?

Yeosang

Because it’s you, I don’t mind it.

Seonghwa

That’s kinda hot.

Yeosang

I know.

It makes me feel good. 

Special. 

I don’t know why.

Seonghwa

Fuck.

Yeosang. 

My stomach just did this swoop. 

Like I’ve just done a drop on a roller coaster.

Yeosang

I’m just hot all over. 

My face is burning up.

Seonghwa

We are the worst at flirting.

Yeosang

Or the best.

Do you know we spent almost the entire day together?

And most of yesterday. 

And last night we slept together in your studio.

And we are STILL talking?

Seonghwa

It’s something. 

Us. 

We’re something. 

Yeosang

I’m a little scared. 

Seonghwa

Hey.

Don’t be. 

This doesn’t have to go further, okay?

It’s up to you entirely. 

I’ll be your friend regardless. 

I’m not that fucking fickle that I’d walk away from our friendship. 

Yeosang

You are too good for me.

Seonghwa

….

Hey, pretty thing?

Yeosang

Yeah?

Seonghwa

I can see your mind working.

Because I’m psychic. 

Stop overthinking this. 

We are okay. 

I’m on your side for whatever you decide, okay?

…

….

Sangie, why aren’t you answering? 

I know you read my message. 

Yeosang

Sorry, I’m just  debating with myself. 

Seonghwa

Do you want me to call you?

Yeosang

No.

Seonghwa

Then what?

Yeosang

Can I come over?

Seonghwa

What?

Now?

Yeosang

Yes.

Seonghwa

Yes, of course.

Yeosang

Okay. 

C  u in 20. 

Chapter Text

Yeosang gets there in less than ten.  He grabbed a taxi and when Seonghwa lets him in, he’s breathless anyway, like he ran all the way there.  His eyes are huge and he looks a little wild and there’s a determined set to his mouth. He drops his backpack on the ground and kicks off his shoes and turns to look at Yeosang who’s staring at him, eyes raking over him.  Yeosang’s dressed for sleep, a soft black t-shirt that is now more grey than black and loose track pants. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa says, finding his words like functioning adult.  “You’re here.”

“I am.  Are you okay?”

Seonghwa wants to laugh.  Was he okay? This kid and his concern for others. 

“I’m a hundred and ten percent okay.”

“Okay, good.” Yeosang looks around the open plan area with it’s kitchen, counter and living room.  “Nice place.”

Seonghwa barely looks over his shoulder, he is intently looking at Yeosang, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“Thanks.  You want something to drink?”

“Water is fine, thanks.” 

Seonghwa nods, gestures to the counter and chairs.  “Sure, grab a seat.”

“Where’s Hongjoong?”

“He messaged. He’s staying with Yunho tonight.”

“So, we’re alone?”

Seonghwa hands him the glass of water he’s poured him from the fridge. He watches as Yeosang runs his fingers through the condensation on the outside of the glass and gives a little shiver for no real reason apart from thinking numbly his hands are so nice.

“Yeah.  Do you want to watch a movie or…?”

“No.”  Yeosang gulps the water down, puts the glass down a little hard.  Seonghwa can see his hands shaking.  He moves back so he’s pressed against the kitchen sink, putting more distance between them in case it was him making Yeosang nervous. 

“No, I don’t want to watch a movie.”

“Okay.  We can game? I’ve got Mortal Kombat ready to go on the PS4? We can,” his looks around their bookcases.  “Play Jenga? Or poker, I’m sure we’ve got a deck of cards somewhere.”

“No.  Seonghwa, please.” Yeosang runs a hand through his hair and leans forward on his elbows, leaning heavily on the counter. 

“I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” Seonghwa says. He was having difficulty breathing.  Yeosang here, in his space, was unexpected but welcome.  God, he wanted to just hold him so badly. 

“I don’t know what I want,” he says, simply.  He lifts his head to look at Seonghwa. “I feel so fucking lost.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa nods.  “That’s something we can work with. Did something happen to make you feel like this?”

“You…,” Yeosang says.  “You came home.”

“Okay?”

“And I was alone at home, sitting in my room, in the fucking dark, like some emo kid from the 90’s, and we were texting and flirting and I don’t know.” He presses a hand to his chest.  “Here, in here it just gaped open and I felt like I was falling. I don’t know what’s going on and I feel scared.”

“Yeosang, hey, can you look at me for a minute?”

Seonghwa waits until his eyes are on him. 

“I would like to touch you, but if you tell me to fuck off, I will, I swear on…my favourite brushes.”

That brings a smile to Yeosang’s lips.  It’s tremulous but it’s there.  

“Okay, sure.  I know how much you love your brushes.”

Seonghwa walks around the kitchen counter and turns the lights off as he goes.  He stops in front of Yeosang where he’s seated on the barstool, his legs spread.  He steps between them, moving slowly, keeping his eyes on Yeosang all the while.  

“We good?” He asks him and gets a slow nod in answer.  Encouraged he leans forward and pulls Yeosang to his chest, a hand on the back of his neck and the other resting lightly against the small of his back.  He presses the softest of kisses to his temple before pressing his cheek against his. “I got you, baby, you know that.”

At his soft murmur the stiffness in Yeosang’s posture disappears and he melts against Seonghwa, leaning further into him, pressing his head into his neck, his arms coming around his waist. 

“Yes, this,” Yeosang whispers to no one in particular.  “This is what I wanted.  Thank you.”

They stay like that for a while.  The room beyond is in shadows with the lights from the street outside creating pools of shadows. Seonghwa inhales deeply, his mind full of Yeosang, his body thrumming.  He gently moves his hand up Yeosang’s neck, into his hair and tugs at the strands there, lightly, to get his attention.   

“Sangie, pretty thing.  Do you want to go to bed?”

“To sleep?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Please.”

Seonghwa smiles into his hair and leans down to lift Yeosang up.  Yeosang makes a little gasp of surprise but he wraps his legs around Seonghwa’s waist and pushes back a little to look him in the eye, his expression surprised. 

“I can walk, Hwa.”

“I know.  This is just easier and I can keep you safe.”

Seonghwa walks them into his room and kicks the door shut.  He’s grateful to his past self for tidying his room in the week and for changing his bedding.  He kneels on the bed with one knee and gently lays Yeosang down on his back. 

“There, now none of the lava monsters could get you.”

“Lava monsters?”

“Oh for sure. They live under the carpet. If you step wrong, they grab you and drag you down.  That’s why you have to be very careful when you walk around at night.”

“Jesus, you’re weird.”  Yeosang is staring up at him.  He’s not moved and he still has his arms lightly around Seonghwa’s neck.  

“So are you, so whatever.”  Seonghwa smiles and reaches up to unlock his arms from around his neck.  “Sleeping, right?”

“Cuddling too, possibly?”

“Sure.” He glances at Yeosang’s tracksuit bottoms.  “You gonna sleep in that?”

“What do you usually sleep in?”

“Boxers. It’s too hot, even with the aircon on.”

“Fuck, of course, yes.  I remember now.”

Seonghwa snorts.  “So I’m just going to…like take my clothes off now, okay?”

Yeosang nods at him and clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ll do the same, over here.” 

And then Seonghwa desperately wants to turn his back because…Yeosang, the little shit, just wiggles his ass around and takes off his tracksuit bottoms and he looks so good squirming around on his bed, that Seonghwa’s brain decides to malfunction.  Then he sits up and he pulls his t-shirt off and Seonghwa’s knees almost buckle.  Yeosang is lithe and lightly muscled. He’s all long limbs and clear smooth pale skin. His boxers are black, of course they are, but they ride low on his hips, and there’s a tantalising view of the v that is Seonghwa’s personal kryptonite. 

“What side?” 

“Pardon?” No brain, just full of Yeosang lying on his bed, propped up on both elbows staring at him.  He obviously has no idea what he looks like and Seonghwa is finding it very hard to function and not just pounce on him.  So he swallows and wets his lips, eyes on Yeosang’s face, keeping it all above the the waistline, sunshine. 

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“Oh, uh, the uh, the right side.”

“Okay.”  Yeosang then squirms his way towards the left side of the bed and Seonghwa closes his eyes, pulls off his own track pants he’d put on just before Yeosang got there, along with his t-shirt.  On his way to the bed, he turns off the overhead lights but leaves the soft bedside light on.  

He had never felt this awkward getting onto his own bed, but Yeosang is lying on his side, watching him carefully.  So he lies down on his back, left arm tucked under his head, the other resting lightly on his stomach. He exhales deeply before turning his head to look at Yeosang. 

“So, now that I’ve got you in my bed…”

“To sleep,” Yeosang helpfully reminds him. 

“To sleep, got it.  You have to pay a toll though.”

“What? We didn’t agree on that.”

Seonghwa points to the door, fighting a grin.  “Then you can just go.”

“Ugh, fine.  What’s the toll?” Full on pout and an eyeroll. This kid. 

“The toll is that you have to…” he glances around his room.  “Cuddle my Captain America plushie.”

“What, no? That is outrageous. I refuse. If you make me, I will cut holes in all your clothes.”

Seonghwa can’t help his chuckle. “Okay, no toll then.  Just sleep with maybe some cuddles.”

“Fine, if you insist.” As if this wasn’t his idea.  Seonghwa’s grin widens. 

Seonghwa flips the bedside lamp’s switch and the room is plunged into darkness.  He listens to Yeosang’s even breathing for a few long seconds, before he feels his bed dip a little.  Yeosang’s hands are surprisingly cool and he holds very still as he feels Yeosang’s hand find his where he’s got it curled on his stomach.  He spreads his fingers and lets Yeosang slide his fingers through his. 

“This okay?” 

“Hmm,” he mutters, his heart fluttering against his ribs.  

“Night, Hwa.”

“Night, baby.”

He can feel Yeosang’s smile even in the dark and grins to himself. He’s still smiling by the time he drops off to sleep. 

***

Yeosang wakes up slowly.  The room he’s in is lit with predawn light and the boy sleeping next to him mutters something soft and low, something he can’t quite make out.  Seonghwa’s on his side, facing him, much like the previous night at the studio.  This time he holds one of Yeosang’s hands against his chest, fingers lightly linked together. They’re so close that Yeosang can make out every single eyelash where they rest on his cheeks.  His lips are lightly parted and they look plush and full, flushed with colour. 

Careful not to jostle him, or their linked hands, Yeosang leans forward just enough for their lips to touch. It’s barely there, the kiss. It’s a whisper, a dream, and it’s enough for now.  He lies back down and closes his eyes, content.  

“Was nice,” Seonghwa says, quietly. His eyes were heavy lidded, staring at Yeosang, making his stomach flip. “Was it real? Or dream?”

Yeosang swallows against a suddenly dry throat.  “Can it be both?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was both.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“It’s early.”

“Too early.  And it’s Sunday.”

“More sleep.”

And when Yeosang nods, Seonghwa gives him a sleepy smile. “Okay, good.  Cuddle with me.”

And Yeosang’s breath leaves his lungs a little like a gasp as Seonghwa turns him on his side and tucks him against him so that his back is flush against his chest. 

“‘Is this okay?” He still sounds sleepy, his voice rough and it shouldn’t affect Yeosang the way it does.  He finds that he has no voice, so he just nods against him and gets lips pressed against his hair in response, Seonghwa’s nose dragging against his neck.  “Okay, good.  This is good. You smell so nice.”

Yeosang lies quiet in his arms, his thumb tracing circles over Seonghwa’s hand where he has it resting flush against the skin of his stomach. And so he falls asleep again, tucked in the arms of a boy who has somehow managed to scale his defences without even really trying.  And the weird thing is, he was starting to be okay with it. 

***

Seonghwa makes them a breakfast of omelette, quick grilled veg and rice. They eat whilst watching morning cartoons.  It was hot already and the air-conditioning unit had given up the ghost and they’ve opened all the windows.  To Yeosang’s horror and Seonghwa’s amusement, he was in one of Seonghwa’s godawful Chad shorts and a borrowed shirt.  He had to admit that they were cooler than his jeans but they were just ugly. 

When Seonghwa’s done drinking his coffee, he pulls his legs up to his chest and drops his head onto his knees. 

“I’m so tired.  Why am I so tired?”

“Have you slept much this past week?” Yeosang ask him as he twists to the side a little at his side so he can push his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair, the gesture thoughtless, and Seonghwa tries not to lean into the touch too much. 

“No, not really. I never sleep much but it’s been really bad lately.”

“Lie down,” Yeosang instructs, leaning over him to put his finished mug of coffee on the table. “It’s still early.  Sleep some more.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll watch tv.  What movies do you have?”

“We’ve got Netflix.”

They spend a few minutes finding a movie to watch then Yeosang settles back against the couch and he pats his legs. “Come on, just don’t drool on me.” And so Seonghwa shifts his body down and lies with his head in his lap.  

“We’ve gone from no touching to lots of touching, pretty.  Are you okay with this?”

“It’s you,” Yeosang says by way of explanation as he drops a hand lightly to Seonghwa’s shoulder.  “I don’t mind. I know you won’t hurt me.”

And that makes Seonghwa’s heart clench because what the actual fuck. What had this boy had to endure in the past?

“Jesus, Sangie.”

“Shhh.” He pushes a finger against Seonghwa’s lips.  “The movie is starting.  Sleep.”

Seonghwa watches exactly two minutes of the movie before he’s drifting off.  He wakes a few times, but Yeosang’s hands are on him, brushing lightly over his shoulders and neck or running through his hair and it is so soothing, he lets himself fall back asleep. 

He doesn’t hear Hongjoong come in but when he wakes up fully, Hongjoong is sitting on the floor and he’s chatting quietly to Yeosang as if they’d known one another all their lives. Hongjoong notices him watching him and grins. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty awakens.  You want something to drink? I brought beer.”

“Uh, no. What time is it?”

“Almost two.”

“In the afternoon?” He sits up blearily.  “Jesus.”

“You needed it,” Yeosang says and stands up, easily stepping over Hongjoong’s outstretched legs, carelessly flicking his forehead.  “But god, you’re heavy.  And I need to pee.”

Seonghwa watches him go, looks at Hongjoong who is muttering under his breath and rubbing his forehead.  That flick was such a bro-move, something he’d never seen Yeosang do towards anyone, that he’s a bit taken aback.  But Hongjoong catches his eye and stares at him. 

“What?” He asks, jerking his chin.  “What you got to say?”

“Nothing, Hwa.  This is just super interesting,” he says, quirking one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.  “What’s going on with you two?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure.” He doesn’t blush, he fights it somehow, but he feels like he wants to curl his shoulders forward and hug this warm feeling inside him. 

“Coco looks gone on you. He literally growled at me when I came in and threatened me with violence if I woke you up. In my own apartment.”

Seonghwa grins at that and wanders into the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

“How’s Yunho?”

“Fucked.” Hongjoong grins with no remorse.  “Thoroughly fucked.”

“TMI, bro, TMI.”

“Is it though?”  Hongjoong stretches himself out on the couch, looking smug. 

“I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades. No one does.”

“Yah, it’s nothing you’ve not walked in on before.”

“Which is why I am both mentally and emotionally scarred, for life.”

“I fully expected to walk in on something this morning. Not chaste cuddling on the couch.”

“I’m not the pervert in this household,” Seonghwa says, turning around to look at his friend with both hands around his mug of coffee. 

“Are you calling your boyfriend a pervert?” Hongjoong quips, sliding his eyes to Yeosang as he walks into the room.  “Hey, Coco, Hwa is calling you names.”

Yeosang doesn’t say anything in answer and instead just walks into the kitchen, wraps a hand over Seonghwa’s where he’s holding his coffee and has him tilt the mug so he can take a small sip.  Seonghwa’s breath leaves his body as he watches Yeosang’s lips and the slow wink he gives him. Yeosang turns around, still very much in his space, and gives Hongjoong a look and slow smile. 

“Hwa can call me anything he likes. He knows what I like.”  

“What. The. Fuck.” Hongjoong’s mouth drops open and he scrambles off the couch.  “What? Seonghwa? Did you do the sex?”

In answer Yeosang just leans back against Seonghwa and watches Hongjoong struggling to parse it out.  And because Seonghwa is an asshole, he’s not even sorry, he brings his free hand up and around Yeosang’s waist, pulling him tighter.  He puts his mug down so that he can wrap the other arm around him too.  Yeosang is very still in his arms for the briefest second, but then he gives a little sigh and a blissful smile at Hongjoong who looks like his entire world had just tilted on his axis. Seonghwa nuzzles his nose against his temple, dragging it down a little so he can press his lips to Yeosang’s ear. 

“You really are chaotic evil, aren’t you, pretty thing?”

Yeosang’s answer is to blush furiously and lower his lashes demurely, before looking back up again, his lip between his teeth and then Seonghwa is laughing, letting him go and stepping away from him to give him space.  He didn’t want to presume, but the way Yeosang is grinning back at him makes his insides tumble.  He turns to look at his friend who is watching them with something like a pained expression.  

“Your face, Joongie, honestly.  We didn’t do the sex.  Calm down.”

“Yeah, Hwa said he’s saving himself for when we get married and I can respect that,” Yeosang quips and Hongjoong makes a sound like he’s dying and he drapes himself across the counter dramatically, pressing his head to the wood.   

“What the fuck, you guys. I have no idea what’s going on.  I’m so confused right now.”

Seonghwa pats his shoulder lightly.  “That’s life, bro.  Just go with it.”

Yeosang is smiling at them and turns to the cupboards.  “Where’s the tea, Hwa? Hey, Hongjoong, do you want some calming camomile tea? I think you need it. You look a little stressed.”

Seonghwa sinks down on the couch, smiling to himself, as he listens to the other two banter.  Hongjoong is demanding more information about what happened the night before and Yeosang being coy of course makes him assume all the things.  

It’s been over a month, he realises, as he flicks through the shows on Netflix, that he met Yeosang for the first time. It’s taken a month for them to grow this close, for the other boy to relax in his presence and he feels like he had accomplished something big.  

He drinks his coffee and watches as Yeosang perches on the chair beside Hongjoong and he likes the way they just seem to click.  Hongjoong is of course talking about music and Yeosang listens intently, taking in every word.  

Seonghwa drops his hand to the art pad he keeps at the side of the couch and rummages for his pencils in the tin. The sketch is quick and dirty, the kitchen behind them a mere suggestion.  He focusses on the two of them, in profile.  Hongjoong gesturing and energetic as he describes a new song he’s working on, Yeosang’s expression sweet and intent, hands wrapped around his mug of tea. 

And that’s how they spend Sunday afternoon, chatting, watching Netflix and generally just chilling.  

Yeosang is lightly tentative around him and Seonghwa is equally careful not to give in to his impulses and pull him into his room and press him into his sheets that smell like both of them, and kiss him breathless. Yeosang gives no indication that he’s aware of Seonghwa’s PG18 thoughts, which, damn, that’s a pity, but he is by turns equally teasing and grumpy at Hongjoong’s pestering.  In the end he just turns his face against Seonghwa’s shoulder, as if hiding and kicks surprisingly accurately, at Hongjoong’s shoulder, where he’s sitting on the floor, making them both laugh at Hongjoong’s outraged protests. 

It’s late afternoon when Yeosang decides to leave and Seonghwa stands up to walk him out. 

“Hey,” he says, as they wait for the elevator. 

“Hey yourself,” Yeosang says with a smile.  

“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything,” he says, and he hates how Yeosang seems to brace himself but he keeps his voice soft and low and somehow that seems to help a little, because he gets a small nod from him. “But I really liked having you around today.”

“You’re being so cheesy right now.  I didn’t know you could be like this,” Yeosang says, shifting his backpack and scuffing his feet, but his expression is softly pleased.  

“Trust me, I’m surprising myself.”  Seonghwa brushes this knuckles lightly against Yeosang’s hand.  “Can I say something else?”

“Sure.” 

“I liked having you in my bed.”  Seonghwa is shocked at his own daring, at saying this out loud but he needed to.  He needed to tell him just so that he understands. “I liked that you called me, that you came over, that you chose me.”

“Hwa, what even,” Yeosang begins but Seonghwa shakes his head.  

“No, listen, just for a minute. I know it’s hard for you to be around others. I don’t know why or what happened to you, and I don’t expect you to tell me.  But last night was enough for me, okay? I love that you feel enough trust in me to be around me, to let your guard down.  You make me feel like a better person when I’m around you. So.” He shrugs a little.  “That’s what I wanted to say. About that.”

Yeosang is so quiet that he worries that he’s said something wrong but Yeosang eventually looks up at him and his expression is so vulnerable, Seonghwa wants. He doesn’t know what he wants. He can’t even begin to describe how full his chest is of this boy with the face and the eyes and the sweet smiles, but then his arms are suddenly full of Yeosang with his lips pressed against Seonghwa’s cheek and Seonghwa wraps his arms around him and holds him.  

“God, you just….Hwa, you just…How do you do this? How do you get under my skin like this? Fuck.” He has his lips pressed against his jaw now and Seonghwa can feel his lashes flutter against his skin, they’re pressed that close together.  “I have never in my life met anyone like you.  You’re unexpected. You’re too much and not enough at the same time.”

“That’s a lot, pretty thing.”  Seonghwa watches the elevator door slide open and close and go to another floor.  “I don’t know what we’ve got, but it feels like a lot.  And it makes me feel happy, you know?”

Yeosang nods against him and steps back.  He presses the button to call the elevator again.  Seonghwa looks at their joined hands and smiles.  

“Can I tell you something else?”

When Yeosang looks at him, his expression is a little wild, but he nods anyway. 

“I love seeing you in my clothes.” He plucks lightly at the t-shirt he had thrown at Yeosang this morning when they were getting dressed.  It’s one of his favourites and it’s a bit too big on Yeosang.  “It makes me feel like you’re mine, just a little bit maybe.”

“Hwa,” Yeosang says and a flush spreads sweetly over his face.  “You are too much, right now.”

“Hmm.  I also like how my bed smells like you.”

“Stop.”

“I like that you kissed me.”

The elevator doors open and they get in, Yeosang still holding his hand. 

“God, you’re terrible.”

“I like that you fit so well against me.  Like a puzzle piece that I never knew was missing.”

“You have to stop.”

“I like how you blush and that you have this smile, sometimes, when you’re secretly pleased with yourself when I tell you stuff like this.”

Yeosang rounds on him, but he’s laughing and he presses his hand over Seonghwa’s mouth. 

“Stop it, goddamn,” he gasps, laughing. 

Seonghwa mumbles against his hand and he presses harder, laughing more. They fake struggle and when the doors open, Yeosang is laughing out loud, one hand pressed to his side, gasping a little and Seonghwa knows without a doubt that he’s in love and he is completely okay with that.

***

The next week is busy because it’s the last week before the dance showcase and no one has time to even breathe properly between classes and practice.  Yeosang somehow finds out when he has lunch and brings him food that’s not cafeteria food and the others tease them mercilessly but Yeosang turns up the next day with donuts for everyone and they declare their undying fealty to him, bowing and scraping and he seems delighted with the adulation. 

On Thursday he brings Seonghwa dinner and they eat it in the dance studio, sprawled on the ground with the others.  The heat isn’t letting up and the studio is hot.  They’ve got the windows wide open but it makes no difference at all.  

Seonghwa lies on the ground after eating and he feels gross and hot.  His hair is sticky with sweat and he wants to pant like a dog to try and alleviate how hot he’s feeling.  He looks up when he sees Yeosang move at his side and reaches out lightly, to touch his knee, running a finger up, following the exposed skin.  He has no idea how Yeosang manages to wear jeans when it’s this hot but then, the jeans were basically holes held together with strips of denim.  It leaves large swathes of his skin bare and Seonghwa is fascinated by how his muscles move lightly below the skin. 

“I miss you,” he says, surprising himself.  He looks up at Yeosang’s face.  “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Me either.” Yeosang watches his finger trail feather soft over his skin and he makes no move to stop him.  “I’m basically living at the workshop. I have so much to get done before I go home next week.”

“What are the plans, by the way.  How do we get there?” Seonghwa shifts a little and stares at him in surprise.  “You know, I have no idea where we’re going.”

“Oh, usually kidnappers don’t share that,” Yeosang says with a smile, holding a bottle of water out to him.  “Hydrate, Hwa.”

“So now I’m being kidnapped?” He sits up and swallows down half the water, resisting the urge to pour most of it over his head. 

Yeosang hums in answer, making no attempt to hide his pleased look. 

“Kidnapping you for sure.  Only, I’ll keep you in luxury.” He laughs at Seonghwa’s expression.  “I can be at yours at about one, next week Friday?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll have you back late Sunday.  There’s about and hour’s flight time, so if you want to bring any work to do on the plane, you can.”

“We’re going somewhere far enough away that we’re flying?” 

“It’s not like I’m whisking you off to Japan for a dirty weekend,” Yeosang says, laughing and then sobers abruptly, staring at Seonghwa with big eyes.   “Unless you want me to?”

“What?” Seonghwa asks but just then Mingi calls time and everyone is groaning and getting up and stretching and complaining about having to move when the air feels like soup. 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Yeosang busies himself with cleaning up the takeaway containers and refuses to look up at him.  “Have a good practice.  Do your best.”

“Pretty thing,” Seonghwa says, his voice urgent, waving a placating hand at San who’s calling his name.  “Look at me.”

Yeosang glances up at him as requested and he’s a little distracted, zipping his backpack back up again.  

“Spend Saturday night after the showcase with me? My bed doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

“Hwa, want the fuck,” he mutters, eyes wide, glancing to where San and Mingi were waiting along with the rest of the crew. 

“Say yes. Please.” Seonghwa leans towards him.  “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

Yeosang stands then and presses his lips to Seonghwa’s cheek.  “Yes, of course.  All you have to do is ask.”  And then he lifts his backpack over his shoulder and waves a careless hand at the others who are all gaping at him, open mouthed, and walks out of the studio, his strides long and confident, leaving a shocked silence behind. 

***

Yeosang spends the night and most of the next day sewing garments.  He’s got his favourite true crime podcast playing in the background and he is in the zone.  He’s close to being done with the main pieces for the show and he knows he’s put together a strong cohesive collection. 

Once the showcase is over and he’s back from his grandfather’s birthday celebrations, he’ll be able to work with the guys to get the show set up.  He’ll be able to make any adjustments to the clothes and instruct them on how to walk to show off the clothes well.  He will definitely be incorporating a dance sequence too because the clothes are definitely geared for the dramatic.. He’s looking more forward to the show than he thought he would, somehow the dancers’ enthusiasm for his clothes and their unexpected welcoming friendship had eased his fears.  

Thinking about the dancers, leads him to thinking about Seonghwa and he finds his hands stilling on the fabric. Seonghwa is something else. Yeosang had not been prepared for him. Before approaching him, he’d seen him around the campus.  Always laughing, with his friends in tow, casually hanging off one or the other.  He was gorgeous, of course, and he easily stood out from the group of friends to Yeosang. The friends were all tall, leggy, handsome and it was obvious that they were popular. It was when he saw San and Mingi with Seonghwa, that he knew he wanted them as his models.  Getting his courage up, as someone who hated any kind of social interaction, had been nightmarish.  His first impressions of Seonghwa and Hongjoong, as they lazed in the sun, had been not great, to say the least. Seonghwa had jumped off the picnic table and looked at Yeosang like he wanted to eat him alive and Yeosang had not reacted well to that.  He’d been defensive, angry and annoyed but somehow, that false bravado Seonghwa employed, had dropped away and through their subsequent meet ups and talks Seonghwa had worked hard at correcting that negative image. 

He’d been so careful of Yeosang, quickly picking up on how he disliked being touched by strangers, how he needed distance between himself and others.  And he’d just given him the space he need without question.  He’d not badgered him with questions and he’d been gently teasing but most importantly, he’d been kind. 

Yeosang isn’t used to people being kind to him.  His short life had been one filled with pain, fear and feelings of self-doubt, loathing of himself and others and suppressed anger.  He let go of that pain and fear he carried within when he got to college, away from his family and their controlling ways.  He had felt free, unfettered and what he mistook for fun was not that at all. It sharply fed into his feelings of self-loathing and he had spiralled into dark places no one should ever have to drop in to.  He did not lie to Seonghwa when he told him he was fucked up.  He had the journals he kept for the therapist to prove it.  He knew he had issues, still, and that is why he kept himself away from situations where he knew he would struggle to maintain his calm. 

Somehow Seonghwa helped.  He helped him feel safe.  Bright, funny, full colour, high definition Seonghwa who likes to draw and make impossible art, who blushes wildly when he teased him, who is so earnest when he tells him he liked him, who is there for him when he felt he was falling apart, who held him so carefully with those wonderfully long fingered hands of his, who looks at him as if he were something precious and worth fighting for. 

Yeosang knows that he is falling for Seonghwa.  And he knows he ought to put a stop to it. A part of him knows he has to walk away from him. He has to nip it in the bud before whatever he was feeling can fully take hold. But it is so hard, so fucking hard, to ignore the way Seonghwa makes him feel.  Like he matters, like he could maybe have this one thing, just for himself.  But then he reminds himself who he is. That he did not have liberty to just fall in love with whoever he pleases.  

He has a five year plan. He doesn’t have time for boys who have big eyes full of stars, who draws him over and over, who tells him he smells like the dark deep woods.  Boys like Seonghwa don’t happen to boys like him.  It wasn’t some romantic comedy from TV. This was real life and yet, the memory of Seonghwa calling him ‘pretty thing’ in that voice, which he only ever used for Yeosang (he knows it’s his Yeosang voice because he doesn’t talk to anyone else like that) and asking him to come sleep with him (again that voice), makes his stomach swoop low and his heart beat a bit faster.  It made him lose track of his previously unwavering goals and the need to just let himself have this one thing, for once, is overwhelming. 

It is after eight when his phone rings and Wooyoung grumpily reminds him that he would have dinner ready in an hour.   Yeosang goes about packing up and gets home just as Wooyoung is dishing.  

“Nice of you to remember where you live.”

“Oh my god, hello mother.  Did you have a good day?”

“Sit down, shut up.” Wooyoung mutters, kicking the other chair out.  “I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Uh, you saw me last night, loser.”

“For like five minutes before you ran off with Hwa and left me alone.”

Yeosang grins at him, dishing grilled chicken onto his rice and drizzling dipping sauce over it all instead of using it for dipping. 

“Like you’ve had time to miss me. You spend all your time with Jongho.”

“But at least I bring him here sometimes.”

“And then you aggressively suck his face and freak me out and I have to run away.”

“Shut up. Stop being an adult.”

Wooyoung snorts at that. He starts shovelling food into his mouth again. “How are things between you and Seonghwa?”

Yeosang almost chokes on his kimchi.  “In what respect?”

Wooyoung shrugs.  “I dunno. You guys just seem to spending a lot of time together.  Are you dating orrrr…?”

“I think it’s an or,” Yeosang says, carefully avoiding his friend’s probing gaze.  “I’ve asked him to go back home with me, for my grandather’s birthday.”

“Shiiiit.  That’s big, Sangie. Does he know?”

Yeosang lets the silence stretch for a little before he answers. “No, I haven’t told him anything.”

“Maybe you should?” Wooyoung kicks his feet under the table.  “Huh? I’d hate walking into the middle of a dogfight like that and not know what the fuck is going on.”

“He knows I’m not close with them,” Yeosang mutters but even to his own ears it sounds weak.  “But I will.  I’ll tell him.  Next week, after the showcase.”

“Do it, Sangie. He deserves to know.”

After Wooyoung calls Jongho to see if he can swing by with some cake in tow, Yeosang tidies the kitchen and does the dishes.  Once he’s done he collapses on the couch and pulls his phone out.  

Yeosang

Hey.

Seonghwa

Oh hey

Was just about to message you

Yeosang

Oh yeah?

Seonghwa

Yeah, I haven’t heard from you since yesterday. 

So I wanted to check in. 

Make sure you were ok

Yeosang

I’m okay. 

Just busy, getting lots done before 

You know,

Your kidnapping.

Seonghwa

Hmm, yeah. 

My kidnapping. 

Tell me more about that. 

What should I expect.

Yeosang

Well, the actual party is Saturday night.

But the rest of the time it will just be, lazing around. 

Going to the beach maybe? 

Friday night I’ll treat you to dinner.

Seonghwa

Dinner, woah.

Okay, the beach? I’m intrigued. 

So, how formal is this party?

Suit?

Tux?

Yeosang

I think I just died thinking of you in a tux.

Seonghwa

That hot, huh?

Yeosang

No, not at all. 

Well.  

Mayyyyybe. 

Seonghwa

You’re  blushing.

I know you are. 

Yeosang

Shut up. 

….

Do you have a formal suit?

Seonghwa

You’ve seen my wardrobe. 

Did it look like I have a suit in there?

It’s fine, I’ll hire one for the weekend. 

Yeosang

No, don’t be stupid. 

I’ll sort something out. 

Seonghwa

I can get my own clothes, Sangie.

Yeosang

That’s debatable. 

I’d like to remind you:

I have seen your wardrobe. 

Seonghwa  

Goddamn

I need some aloe vera for that burn

Yeosang

*grinning*

Calling it like I see it. 

So, no practice tonight?

Seonghwa

Nope. Early night tonight

Hongjoong sent everyone home with strict instructions.

To rest. 

Eat. 

Get sleep. 

Yeosang

Sounds boring.

Seonghwa

It really is. 

Especially the sleep part

Because

Yeosang

Because….??

Seonghwa

My bed is so big and lonely without you. 

;-)

Yeosang

God, you’re so cheesy.

Seonghwa

You love it. 

I can just see how you look rn

Secretly pleased, blushing a little. 

God I miss you, pretty thing. 

Yeosang

Hwa?

Seonghwa

Yeah?

Yeosang

Do you think…

fucc

God, this is so unfgh. 

Seonghwa

Sangie, you okay, baby?

Yeosang

I don’t know. 

Seonghwa

Sweets, you really gotta talk to me

I’m worrying about you. 

Do you want me to come over?

Yeosang

No! Hwa, you need rest

You don’t have to worry about me. 

I’m just being stupid. 

Woo asked me about us tonight and I didn’t know

You know. 

What to answer. 

Seonghwa

Ah.

I get it. 

I don’t have one either. 

An answer, that is. 

Yeosang

But we’re friends, right?

Seonghwa

God, yes, we’re friends. 

Of course. 

I mean. If you want us to be?

Yeosang

Yes, ofc. 

Jesus, Hwa. 

But there’s more, right?

Between us?

Its not just in my head?

Seonghwa

It’s real. 

Is that what you’re asking?

Yeosang

Yeah, I suppose I am. 

good. 

That’s good. 

I’m glad. 

Seonghwa

Me too. I’m glad.

But I’m glad you’re glad too.

…

Can I tell you something?

Yeosang

Sure?

Seonghwa

I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. 

Knowing you’ll be coming home with me. 

That I’ll be able to hold you. 

Yeosang

JFC, Hwa. 

HOW do you even? 

Are you seeing what you’re saying?

How do you expect my brain to work after that?

Seonghwa

Do  you want me to stop?

Take it back?

Does it make you uncomfortable, because I will tsop

Yeosang

Fuck you, no. 

Do *not* take it back. 

No takebasies. 

Shut up. 

I’m going now. 

God fucking hell. 

Hwa. 

Seonghwa

Am I being attacked?

I dunno? I’m confused. 

I need help.

>>;-)

Yeosang

Go sleep, Hwa.

Rest well. 

Seonghwa

You too, my pretty thing. 

I’ll see you tomorrow night. 

Yeosang

Oh, before I go?

Are you home all day tomorrow?

Seonghwa

Yep, strict instructions to rest up. 

Heading to the auditorium at around five tomorrow. 

Why?

Yeosang

No reason. 

Sleep. 

Seonghwa

Okay bai

xoxo

***

“Hwa! There’s a delivery guy at the door for you!”

Hongjoong calls from the door and Seonghwa pops his head out of his room, earphones dangling. 

“For me? I didn’t order anything.”

“Well, you’ve got a shitload of parcels.  That only you can sign for apparently.”

“Oh, right?” 

Seonghwa gets to the door and a delivery guy in a black courier outfit grins at him. 

“Hey, are you Park Seonghwa? Do you have ID?”

“Uh, sure.” Seonghwa digs his student ID card out of his wallet on the table next to the door.  “Will this do?”

“Yep, perfect.  Can you sign here for me?”  

Seonghwa signs the man’s little electronic device and hands it back to him, his eyes going to the understated brown paper wrapped parcels he’s piled on the ground with great care. 

“Have a good day! And I guess, happy birthday?”

Seonghwa’s in the process of telling him it’s not his birthday but Hongjoong’s already carrying the boxes into the apartment and the guy’s down the hallway and the fire escape already, not bothering to wait for the elevator. 

He carries the other items into the apartment and stacks them on the counter. 

“Did you win a competition or…?”

“Honestly, no idea what is going on.”

Hongjoong gestures at him. 

“Go on, open them up, lets see what they are.”

Seonghwa takes a breath and sets about opening the first box and largest box.  As soon as he lifts the lid and pulls back the delicate wrapping, he starts laughing. 

“What? What is it?”

“It’s a suit,” he says, pulling the jacket out.  The fabric is gorgeous. He sees the label and almost drops it.  “I am a fashion pleb but…Hongjoong, even I know some names.  Does that really say what I think it says?”

“Yep, no that’s exactly what you think it says.” 

Seonghwa pulls out the trousers, checks the sizing.  Jacket and trousers are in his size. He sets them aside with great care.  Then he opens the next box, and the next.  Soon it looks as if a high end department store had exploded in their small living room.  A variety of formal shirts in different colours joined the suit.  There were three pairs of formal black shoes in different styles.  There were ties, two different waistcoats carrying a different label who Hongjoong looked up (a British designer known for her out there clothing and who is a punk rock icon in her own right) and one final box, smaller and more elegant with an unknown designer’s name engraved on the lid.  He popped the box open and sat down heavily. 

“What?” Hongjoong demands.  He was seated at the counter, drinking water, watching Seonghwa pull out each item of clothes in a daze. “What is it? Is an engagement ring?”

“No.” He turned the box around.  “Cufflinks, with my initials.”

“Holy shit.” Hongjoong glanced at the heavy silver cufflinks.  “They are incredible.  Do you have a sugar daddy, Hwa?”

“What?” Seonghwa pawed his pockets for his phone.  “No? What the fuck you take me for? Do I look like a sugar baby? Fuck you.”

But he remembers.  He remembers one of his very early conversations with Yeosang about being a kept man, about being a sugar baby.  What the fuck?

He hits dial on his phone and there’s a small delay before Yeosang answers the phone. 

“Hwa? Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure, yes, I’m fine.  Totally, a hundred percent fine.  Just, I’m in my living room and it looks like Gangnam exploded everywhere.  Like, there are millions of wons worth of clothing, just everywhere.  Delivered to me by private courier.  All in my name.  And I know for a fact I’m not the one who bought all these things.  I don’t know anyone who’d send me this.  Do you?”

“I need you to breathe, Hwa, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yeosang, what the hell?!”

“Please, don’t shout.  It’s not necessary.  I told you I’d sort out your wardrobe for the party, right? That’s all this is, okay? It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious, he’s saying it’s nothing serious.  Sangie, baby, this is crazy! No one needs a dinner suit by Prada.  No one needs waistcoats from Vivienne fucking Westwood and handmade shoes from some Italian designer I can’t even think how to pronounce. This stuff is ridiculously expensive.  I can’t pay you back.”

“Did I ask you to pay me back?  Hwa, listen to me when I tell you this: I don’t want your money. I got you these things because I wanted to. You deserve every single piece of clothing I sent you because, fuck, I want to see you look good on Saturday night.  But, importantly, these are an investment.  The items I chose are classics and you will be able to wear them for years to come.  So, it’s not just a one-off thing, okay? And, before you go on about costs, trust me, I can afford it.”

“I’m not sure, Sangie.” He worries at his lower lip with his teeth.  “This feels weird.”

“What does? Don’t you like getting presents?”

“No, it’s just.  It’s a lot, Yeosang.  It’s so fucking much.”

“Look, we’ll talk about it tonight, in person okay? After the showcase.”

“Yeah, okay.” He runs a hand over the suit jacket.  “You chose well though.”

“Yeah, Hwa, I think I chose really well.” Yeosang’s voice is soft, the timbre lower than before and Seonghwa feels himself flush.  He turns his back on Hongjoong who’s watching him with large attentive eyes and walks to his bedroom. 

“You’re not talking about the clothes anymore, are you?” He listens to the silence on the other side.  He kicks the door shut behind him and lies down on his bed. “Pretty thing,” he says, low low and sweet.  “What are you doing? Why are you spending so much unnecessary money on me?”

“Jesus, your voice, Hwa.”

“My voice? What about it?”

Yeosang draws a deep ragged sounding breath on the other side.  “Sometimes you call me that and it just makes my toes curl and I go hot all over.”

“That’s kinda sexy…or you have the plague, I’m not sure.”

Yeosang lets out a startled laugh.  “Okay, you ass.  Thanks for just messing up that moment. But listen, I’m serious.”

“So am I, baby.  The clothes are amazing and gorgeous but, you really didn’t have to.”

“I know.  But I wanted to.  I’m kidnapping you for a whole three days.  The least I could do is pay you back by sending you some nice things.”

“I’m not sure you know how kidnapping works.  You’re not supposed to give the boy you’re kidnapping presents.”

“Oh, well, I’ve never been one to play by the rules.”

Hongjoong knocks on his door.  “Hwa? I’m heading out. I’m meeting Yunho and Jongho for a late lunch.  Don’t be late, okay? Remember to eat and hydrate!”

“Okay, later, bro!”

He drops back on the bed.  “Sangie.”

“Hwa?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m at the workshop.”

“Hmm. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Same. I heard what Hongjoong said.  Are you nervous about tonight?”

“Not so much? I think I will be later, nearer the time.  Right now I’m distracted by some really fancy clothes a boy I really like bought me.  It’s almost like he wants me to play dress up for him.”

“Jesus, no. Please don’t do that to me. I have an entire week to steel myself seeing you dressed in a tailored suit.  Have pity on my poor heart.”

Seonghwa laughs then, delighted.  “Okay, but what will you be wearing?” 

“Something in black, of course.” 

“Of course.  Will we match?”

Yeosang is quiet for a few moments.  “We can, actually.  If that’s what you want. Are you okay with that?” 

Seonghwa hummed quietly.  “I’d like that, I think.  Pretty thing, can I ask you something?”

“I know I’ll probably regret this, but yes.”

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know, Hwa.  Do we have to label it?”

“No, but I worry that…you know, I really fucking like you so much. I don’t want to fuck up what we’ve got.”

“You’re not.  You won’t.  If anything, I’m the one walking that fine line of being neurotic and screwing things up.”

“You’re not neurotic.”

“Highly strung.  My therapist calls me highly strung.”

“Your therapist is an asshole. You’re talented, you care about others more than you should, and you look really pretty sleeping in my bed.”

Yeosang’s laugh is a little breathless at that.  “Those make no sense at all.  They’re like completely different things.”

“Shut up, I’m having a moment or whatever.”  Seonghwa’s grinning at his ceiling though. “Thank you, baby.  For the clothes.”

“Do you like them?”

“I do.  The cufflinks are my favourite.”

Yeosang made a pleased little noise in the back of his throat. “Irina made them for me.  I called her up the day after we met her.  She’s good right?”

Seonghwa took a moment to figure out who he meant.  “Oh, Irina from the warehouse studios?”

“Yeah.”

“The cufflinks are perfect, pretty thing.”

“I designed them.”

Seonghwa sat up on the bed.  “You designed them?”

“Yeah, I drew them out and she made them.”

Seonghwa left his room and went back out into the living room and stared down at the cufflinks.  They were solid silver, thick and sat heavy in his hand. He looked at the design carefully.  Yeosang had designed the cufflink to look like a picture frame, the scrollwork detailed, with his initials embossed within the frame.  They whole design looked as if it came from another century entirely. 

“I love them even more.” I think I love you.  “Thank you.”

“Oh, okay.  Well.  That’s good. You were quiet so long I thought the call had dropped or something.”

“No, no, just me, admiring the jewellery you had made for me.” 

Yeosang is laughing again and this time he sounds a little less embarrassed. 

“Okay, well.  I think I should go now.  You’ve got a showcase to get ready for.  Are you doing a solo?”

“I am, yeah.  At the end.  The showcase is split in two.  Juniors get to do their thing, then there’s some group performances, with the seniors doing solos towards the end.”

“Okay, that sounds terrifying.”

“You’ve seen the chaos twins in action, so you know about terrifying.”  Seonghwa laughs softly. “But you’re right.  I have to go now.  I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, later.  Good luck tonight, Hwa.  Do well.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”

He stands, once he hung up, with his phone pressed against his chest, smiling blindly, at nothing.  He was so far gone, it was ridiculous. 

The door being buzzed again startles the hell out of him and he lets a little yelp, clutching at his heart, before he turns to open the door. 

A massive bouquet of flowers almost hits his face.  The flowers are a wild array of colours and they cover the courier’s torso and head entirely. 

“Oh is this, shit, what, is this Park Seonghwa?” The flowers ask and Seonghwa clears his throat, still recovering. 

“Uh, yes?”

“Oh great, these are for you.  Can you just, sign for them?” The guy jiggles his hip.  “Actually, no, can you just take them? They weigh a tonne.”

Seonghwa pockets his phone and ducks down so he can see where the courier’s hands are and he gingerly lifts the arrangement out of his hands, walking it to the kitchen counter where he puts it down carefully. 

“You’re going to need a bigger kitchen counter,” the courier says with a grin.  “Can you sign this?” 

Seonghwa, his gaze on the flowers signs his name without even looking at what he was doing.  He closes the door behind the guy just as the guy turns round and says: “Happy birthday!”

“It’s not my birthday,” Seonghwa says to no one at all. There’s a little notecard sticking out of the spray of flowers and he plucks it open.  “I saw these and they made me think of your smile. Good luck tonight. Y, xoxo”

“Flowers.  He sent me flowers.” Seonghwa grins and spins, he fucking spins on the spot, and lets out a little giggle.  “Fuck, he sent me flowers.  What does that even?” 

He pulls his phone and for a second he thinks about calling Yeosang again but instead he takes a photo and sends it to him. 

They couldn’t be more perfect.  Thank you. 

Yeosang doesn’t respond for a few seconds but when he does Seonghwa laughs. 

I was ready to fight you to accept them! Glad you like them.  Now, go away and get ready.  I’ll see you later. 

***

“He sent you flowers?” Mingi is sitting in the chair at his side. They were having their make-up done by the drama department’s make-up team.  “That’s fucking sweet, bro.”

“I know?” Seonghwa tries hard not to squirm under the girl’s hands as she works on his face. “I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone before.”

“I think he really likes you.”

Seonghwa smiles to himself.  His reflected image looks unbearably smug. 

“Yeah, well, I aggressively like him back.”

San was on Mingi’s other side listening to them talk.  His make up was already done and was waiting for them to finish styling his hair. 

“So, are you guys together?”  

Seonghwa hesitated.  “Sannie, I’m not sure what we are. I’m hesitant to say yes, because there’s still stuff we need to talk about and I genuinely don’t want to presume, you know?”

Hongjoong wheels himself over.  “I will personally kill you dead if you hurt Coco, Hwa.  He is too good for you.”

“Uh, thanks, unnecessarily violent bro, for that?” 

“I’m not even kidding. He’s precious and so soft. And he gets your stupid sense of humour. So don’t mess it up.”

“I’m not planning to mess it up, fuck off.” Seonghwa itches to slap his best friend but the girl bent over his voice hisses at him and presses his head back against the chair. 

“Stop squirming or I will fucking slice off your eyebrow,” she warns him, expression hard. 

Seonghwa goes very still very fast at the threat.  

“Sorry,” he mutters.  “They’re being assholes.”

“No, they just care about you and this boy. Do you like him?”

“Yes?”

“Does he like you?”

“Yes?”

“Then what’s the issue? Why haven’t you asked him to be your boyfriend yet?”

“There’s stuff, like, you know.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Other stuff that’s…”

“Like what? You’re scared?”

Seonghwa tries desperately to signal for help from any of his friends but they all seem to be very busy with other things, like ignoring him. 

“No, not scared exactly.” 

“Then what? You’re only pretending to like him?

“No, I really like him so fucking much.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

The girl stands back, her grip firm on his chin, tilting his face this and that.  “Okay, I’m done.  You look very sexy. I did good work, the Lord’s work, some would say.” She turns around and starts tidying her workstation before turning back around to level a heavy stare at him. “If you don’t find this boy and make him your boyfriend, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

That was wild. Seonghwa stares at her in shock. “You don’t know…”

“No, I do know.  That’s the thing.  I do know.  I was in love with a girl in my first year.  I should have told her as soon as I realised.  She went home during summer break and never came back. Her family married her off to some man as part of a business deal and sent her to Japan.  So, yeah, I have regrets.  So I’m telling you now.  Don’t wait too long to tell him how you feel.  And telling him you like him isn’t enough. Use the L word.”

Seonghwa blinks at her.  From the corner of his eye he can see San watching them intently. 

“Lesbians?”

The whole room stills and the girl turns to look at San with an expression like death made manifest.  He just manages to duck the brush she hurls at his head. 

“No, fuckwad, love.”

Seonghwa doesn’t care as the noise levels in the room escalate.  He was going to.  He was going to tell Yeosang that it’s not just like.  It’s something far more, something bigger.  

***

Yeosang is not ready for the people, the noise or the excitement in the auditorium.  He purposefully stays away for the first half of the showcase, unable to deal with the noise and motion.  Wooyoung finds him near the entrance and takes one look at Yeosang’s pale face. 

“I can get you backstage, if you prefer. You’re going to vibrate right out of your skin otherwise. There’s less people.”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, we have to hurry, they’re about to start.”

Then Yeosang is on the stairs, Wooyoung’s hand on his wrist and they’re running towards a door that says STAFF ONLY. Wooyoung ignores the sign entirely and burst through the door with Yeosang in tow.  One of the volunteers startles when she sees them but then she grins when she recognises Wooyoung. 

“Backstage?” She asks him and he nods.  “Come on, Jongho already cleared it with the others.  This way.”

And then they follow her long legs through a series of corridors and Yeosang’s head is a mess at the maze she leads them through but then they’re backstage and it’s pure chaos but, somehow it’s different. 

The difference is that he can see Seonghwa.  Seonghwa’s standing with his group of friends and they’re all wearing their Crew T-shirts he’d made for them and they look so good.  Seonghwa doesn’t see him, which is fine.  His expression is tense and he is listening to something Hongjoong is telling them all.  

“We’ll be able to watch properly from the wings.  Come.”  Wooyoung tugs him and he follows him around some screens and a group of people in black who are obviously the stage hands.  

“Did you do this?” Yeosang asks him once he stops behind someone who glances at them before ignoring him. 

“No, Hwa did.  He said you might prefer it back here.  That being out there might freak you out too much.”  Wooyoung nudges his shoulder a little.  “He’s a good guy, Sangie. You did well.”

Yeosang wants to say something but then the lights go down on the stage and the first beat fills the air and the dance crew thunder onto the stage and the lights go up.  

Yeosang watches the group performance. It’s dynamic, sexy and he’s grinning wide by the time they take a brief bow, and then the solos start.  He watches, mesmerised as each member performs their solos. He’s nervous for Seonghwa and can barely watch as the members from the team he knows perform.  They good, they are so fucking good, his heart knocks wildly against his ribs and he leans forward with Wooyoung as each one takes a bow and claps and whistles along with the audience.  

And then it’s Seonghwa’s turn and Yeosang forgets to breathe.  He’s dressed in an oversized white shirt with volumous sheer sleeves that spark in the overhead lights.  His long legs are clad in faux leather pants that cling inappropriately at his thighs (and if Yeosang decides to buy him real leather pants right then, so what?) and black DM’s.  He looks gorgeous.  He looks like fucking sin.  He saunters onto the stage, tilts his chin at the audience and wipes a thumb over his mouth.  An audience member screams and he smirks in their direction and there’s laughter.  Someone in the costume department had decided it would be a good idea to give him a trilby.  A fucking black trilby.  It sits at a low slanted angle on his face, keeping most of his face in shadow. He turns to the left of the stage and snaps his fingers with a clear crack.  A chair comes his way, slid across the stage by one of the stage hands and Seonghwa catches it, spins it and straddles it backwards. There’s a smattering of applause and Yeosang can see the cocky grin on his face just as the lights go out for a brief second. When they come back on again it’s a spotlight only. Wooyoung grabs his arm and lets out a soft gasp when the first beat of WayV’s Love Talk hits the auditorium. 

Seonghwa dancing to Love Talk should come with a PG18 rating. Yeosang watches him, oblivious to his surroundings, in awe of the sheer control he has over his body.  It’s sexy, the movements sure, precise and astonishingly graceful. He uses the chair as a prop, straddling it, legs wide, back arched, hand pressing the trilby down as he does a slow backward roll of his body.  Nothing could prepare Yeosang for Seonghwa doing body rolls, slow, achingly slow body rolls, or the way his long fingered hand inches slowly down his chest, past his waist, lightly gripping the inside of his thigh, just missing his groin proper. His dance is a slow seduction of the audience. His gaze burns as he dances, his moves a mixture of modern and jazz, suitable to his tall lean physique. The audience is rapt, Yeosang is on fire and Seonghwa holds the crowd in the palm of his hand. 

He finishes his stage with a slow stare at the audience as he whisks the trilby off his head and gives them a low elegant bow, before straightening and angling the trilby rakishly over his eyes once more, hiding most of his face.   

The applause is crazy. There’s whistling and shouts and Seonghwa breaks from his persona to take it in with a wide grin on his face and as he turns to leave the stage, he spots Yeosang standing to the right, off stage, and his grin drops and something replaces it. 

“I’m gone,” Wooyoung says in Yeosang’s ear and he has no time to react because Seonghwa is stalking towards him, his eyes raking over Yeosang and Yeosang is feeling a bit weird. Dizzy and hot and like his knees might not be able to support him for much longer.  Not when Seonghwa looks at him like that.  Not after seeing him perform like that.  

Someone’s taken to the stage behind Seonghwa but Yeosang couldn’t care less. Seonghwa was walking him backwards, not touching him, save for a light hand on his hip to guide him, so that eventually fetches up against a wall.  Seonghwa leans forward, caging him between his arms, hands pressed against the wall, on either side of his head. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa says. “You look nice.”

“Uh, have you seen yourself?” Yeosang asks and he wishes his voice didn’t sound quite so breathless.  “You look so good.  You were amazing out there.”

“Yeah?” Seonghwa’s breath ghosted across his ear.  “Thanks. You look so good. You smell so good.  Jesus.”

He drags his nose down Yeosang’s jaw, dropping his head lower and Yeosang lets him. He lets him and pushes back against the wall, arching back, giving him access to his neck. Seonghwa inhales deeply, lets out a little groan and moves infestimally closer, his head almost buried in the crook of Yeosang’s neck.  Yeosang has never felt more powerful in his life. 

“Hwa?”

“Hmmm.”

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping myself from kissing you.”

“Okay,” he says.  A beat.  “Why?”

“Because if I start now, I won’t stop.”

Yeosang curls his hand into the trailing front of his shirt and he pulls him closer, lips just missing his so he could lean up and press his mouth to his ear. 

“Go get changed, we’re leaving.”

Seonghwa’s eyes darken and he stares down at him, his eyes flickering to his mouth, then back up again to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll meet you out front,” he says and his voice is low low low.  “Give me ten minutes.”

“I’ll get a taxi.”

But they both just stand there, staring at one another, a little gone because of the intensity of the moment.  Yeosang catches his breath first.  He tugs on Seonghwa’s shirt.  “Go, the longer you mess around, the longer it takes to get back to yours.”

Seonghwa nods, blinking.  

“Yes, you’re right.  I’m going.” He pulls back from Yeosang and takes a few steps away before turning back.  “You really look fucking amazing.”  And then he turns around and heads towards wherever it is that they’ve had the team dressing. 

Yeosang lets out a breath and sags against the wall, pushing his fingers through his hair. He is shaking. 

“Fucking hell, that was intense.” There’s no sign of Wooyoung so he snags one of the other stage hands to get directions back out to the exit. He practically runs and once he gets outside, he pulls his phone out to order a car. 

Chapter Text

Seonghwa finds Yeosang standing outside next to a black SUV.  There’s a chauffeur in a uniform and once Yeosang moves towards him, the guy turns and opens the back door for them.  Yeosang grips his hand lightly and pulls him into car behind him.  

The interior of the SUV is black leather and has dim lighting and it smells faintly of vanilla aricon. The chauffeur closes the door behind Seonghwa and gets behind the wheel.  He doesn’t ask for directions and as soon as he starts the car and pulls out into the Saturday night traffic, he hits the ‘on’ button on the radio and some trendy pop beats hit the air, loud enough to create background noise and give them some privacy from him, but not loud enough to stop the two of them from talking. 

Yeosang is sitting quietly at his side, looking at the scenery.  He has both hands on his knees and seems relaxed but Seonghwa has learned to read Yeosang in the short time he’s come to know him. The purposeful way he avoids Seonghwa’s eyes tells him a lot. He risks a look at the driver but the man was eyes front, all attention on the traffic around them. Yeosang was nervous and he was doing his best to not show it.  

“Hey, Sangie.”

“Hey, Hwa.”

“I’m sorry.” His apology gets those incredible eyes on him and he swallows hard under their full weight.   

“What for?”

“I was out of line back there.  I saw you  in the wings, looking at me like, like I don’t know. Like you liked me as much as I like you. And I just needed to be with you.” He flexed his hands and gripped them together in his lap. “…I kinda, came at you hard and it was inappropriate.  So, I’d like to apologise if I overstepped."

Yeosang makes a little noise. It sounds like a sob and when Seonghwa looks at him Yeosang’s eyes are burning into his. 

“Hwa, I almost walked out on that stage and kissed you breathless in front of everyone,” he mutters, voice lower than it usually is.  “You did nothing wrong, believe me.  I would tell you if you did.”

“Promise me that you will? I don’t want to ever make you uncomfortable. I never want to hurt you or scare you. You’re too important to me.”

In answer Yeosang merely reaches over and worms his hand between Seonghwa’s. His smile is a little shy, but it's a lot warm and sweet and when he looks away Seonghwa can see the blush riding high on his cheeks. 

They sit in silence for a little while and Seonghwa looks at Yeosang's hand in his and he's hit by how happy he is. He's surprised when Yeosang tugs at his hand a little to get his attention.  “When we get back to yours, promise me something?”Yeosang glances at him briefly, before looking out the window again. 

“Sure,” Seonghwa says immediately. Zero hesitation.  “Whatever you want.”

“That you’ll kiss me?”

Seonghwa lets that sink in for a moment.  Then he nods, slowly.  “Yes, of course.  Whatever you want.”

Yeosang tightens the grip he has on Seonghwa’s hand then and sits a little closer to him and Seonghwa wants to pull him onto his lap right there and hold him and kiss him.  But he doesn’t.  Because he has self control.  And he wants to do it properly. 

They get back to Seonghwa’s apartment block soon enough and the driver jumps out to open the door for them, surprising Seonghwa.  He glances at the man and receives a polite bow.  Yeosang pops out behind him, backpack over his shoulder. 

“Thank you for using us again, Mr. Kang-ssi.”

Yeosang hands the driver several folded bills. “Thank you, Kim. Appreciated.”  Then he turns to Seonghwa with a raised eyebrow as he hitches his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Shall we?”

Seonghwa nods numbly and lets them into the building.  His gaze tracks the SUV as it pulls away whilst they wait for the elevator.  

“So,” he says, smiling down at Yeosang.  “Hongjoong is going to stay at Yunho’s again tonight.”

“Interesting.” Yeosang drawls the word out, making him grin. 

“Yeah, so we can stay up all night and watch Marvel movies.” 

Yeosang makes a face.  “This is not what I signed up for. I think I want to go home.” He tugs at his hand that’s wrapped in Seonghwa’s.  “Oh my god, let go. I want to call Kim back so he can take me home. I’m not watching Marvel movies with you.”

The elevator arrives then and Seonghwa easily pulls him in, using a little too much force and Yeosang stumbles against him with a squeak of surprise.   Seonghwa hits the button for his floor, crowding against Yeosang a little, so he can’t make a run for it before the doors slide shut. 

“Hmm, if we’re not watching Marvel movies, what will we be doing all night long? What do you think you signed up for?”

Yeosang squirms against him a little and Seonghwa catches his breath, dropping a hand to his hip to stop him moving. He did not want to sprout a random boner and scare him away, but Yeosang’s eyes are very big and dark as he stares up at him. 

“I’m not sure,” he says, eyes moving to Seonghwa’s lips, tracking his tongue as he reflexively wets his bottom lip under Yeosang’s gaze.  “But we’re creative adults.  I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something.”

“Hmm, something for sure,” Seonghwa says, leaning forward a little.  “Does this mean I get to touch you tonight?”

“Yes,” Yeosang breathes, his lips brushing lightly against his.  “Whatever you want.”

“Do I get to undress you?” Seonghwa asks, his hand trailing up from where it’s resting on Yeosang’s hip.  He finds his way under the soft charcoal grey sheer silk shirt, resting his palm lightly against his heated skin, thumb rubbing lightly against his ribs.  “Hmm, pretty thing? Do I get to unwrap you tonight?”

Yeosang mutters something under his breath, too soft for him to make out and he’s arching up against Seonghwa, brushing their hips together, and they’re not kissing but, fuck, it’s so close.  His skin is so hot against Seonghwa’s hand it feels like he’s running a fever.  

Seonghwa is shaking from his proximity. His head feels like it’s full of white noise and when the elevator doors open they step out in sync, Yeosang leaning against him. Seonghwa wraps an arm around his waist to keep him close, disliking the idea of having him move away from him intensely.  He fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.  

Hongjoong had managed to get the aircon working again and the apartment is a little cooler than outside.  Seonghwa has the wherewithal to at least close and lock the door behind them before he turns to Yeosang who’s struggling to get his boots off. 

“Fucking shit…” he mutters, bringing a grin to Seonghwa’s face.  “Give me scissors, goddamn laces.”

“Stop, I’ll help you.”

He kneels down in front of Yeosang, not missing how the other boy’s breath stutters a little. He props his knee up and taps his leg.  “Foot.”

Yeosang puts his DM encased left foot on his lower thigh and watches silently as Seonghwa undoes the knot, his fingers nimble on the laces.  He untucks them a little and slides his foot and sock out of the boot, dropping the offending items on the ground.  

“Next,” he says, dragging his gaze up along Yeosang’s long legs clad in smart black trousers, past his waist where his silk shirt is no longer tucked in, up along his chest, resting momentarily on the open collar showing off the long column of his neck and finally, up to his face staring down at him with a dazed expression. 

Yeosang leans a hand on the wall at his side so he could swap feet and Seonghwa tries not to let it show how much he is affected by him, but his hands are a little unsteady as he undoes the laces on his other boot.  

Yeosang’s hand is suddenly in his hair, raking his bangs back, tugging a little and Seonghwa glances up at him through his lashes. 

“Hey,” he breathes, his hands stilling. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just weirdly affected by your kneeling in front of me taking my shoes off?” Yeosang says, honest to a fault as always. His fingers trail Seonghwa’s jaw and his thumb drags softly over his lower lip, before its gone.  “I’m not sure why?”

Seonghwa drops the other boot to the ground and straightens, taking his time, so that their height difference is more obvious by the time he’s standing fully upright.  He still has his shoes on and it gives him an an extra inch. Yeosang’s gaze doesn’t leave his once and when he cranes his head back a little, his lips part in a quiet sigh. 

“Hwa, please.”

“What do you want?” Seonghwa bends towards him a little so that he can stare into his eyes properly.  They are huge and the colour is so intense and dark, it momentarily stuns him.  “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to, but I need you to tell me.”

“Kiss me?”

And how can he say no to Yeosang when he asks that, in a voice so soft, so burningly sweet, it makes the air between them cloying. 

Seonghwa kisses him.  It’s chaste, the softest kiss just on the corner of his mouth, where there’s that tiny dent that drives him so wild when Yeosang’s lips quirk in amusement. Yeosang is barely breathing against him and Seonghwa reaches up gently, trailing his right hand upwards, so that he can have one hand resting against that sharp jawline that drives him to distraction, whilst the other finds the small dip of Yeosang’s waist, pulling him closer so that they are flush against one another.  

And then Seonghwa flutters his eyes closed and kisses Yeosang with barely there control.  He teases his mouth open so he could taste him properly and Yeosang just yields. He gives up to Seonghwa with such earnestness, with such a sweet little gasp of surprise, it scrambles his thoughts. 

Yeosang tastes divine, he tastes like he’s Seonghwa’s favourite thing in all the world and Seonghwa knows he never wants to stop kissing him.  Yeosang gasps against him, mouth eager against his, winding his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and then he’s up, and he’s got his legs wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist and Seonghwa lifts him higher, arms under his ass, so that Yeosang is the one leaning downwards, the one driving the kiss, his teeth tugging a little at Seonghwa’s lower lip.  

“Room,” he says against his lips.  “Now, please, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods blindly against him and walks him, pausing for a moment to turn off the lights, down the passage to his room.  Yeosang doesn’t stop kissing him, his lips softer than he could have thought, his mouth so warm and sweet, allowing him all the access he wants.  

He sits on the bed so that Yeosang can straddle him. He needs this boy so badly it’s like a fire under his skin and Yeosang seems to be incredibly attuned to this.  He’s kissing Seonghwa like he’s drowning and the only way to stay alive is to have Seonghwa’s mouth on him.  And fuck, Seonghwa loves it.  Both his hands are now on Yeosang’s hips, below that sinful silk shirt, and his fingers are stroking the smooth skin over his ribs. Yeosang mutters something, lifting himself a little against Seonghwa and rolls his hips in an approximation of Seonghwa’s body rolls earlier that night.  The movement makes them both groan and Yeosang whimpers a little against his mouth. 

“God, Hwa, how do you drive me this crazy?”

“Me?” Seonghwa tries to scoff but he’s got both hands on his hips again, lifting him, pulling him back down against him, the move calculated to drive them both crazy with the slow drag. The movement draws another gasp out of them both.  “You look like sin tonight, baby.  You’re so perfect for me.”

He presses mindless kisses along the column of Yeosang’s exposed neck, tugging impatiently at the shirt to get better access when Yeosang’s hands come to rest on his. 

“Hey, how about you undress me like you asked?”

And yes, that is an incredibly good idea.  Undressing is good.  He wants Yeosang naked and writhing under him five minutes ago.  So he pushes them off the bed, arm around Yeosang’s waist and makes him stand in front of him. 

The light in the room is from his bedside lamp only, so it throws out a soft light.  He nudges Yeosang a little so he stands in the best place to be lit by the light. He drinks him in for a moment, the shape of him, the possibility of him.  Yeosang’s face is bathed in shadows but his eyes are glittering up at him and he thanks all the gods who had smiled on him the day Yeosang had come into his life. 

“I can’t tell you how much I want this,” he mutters and when he reaches between them, his hands are trembling.  Yeosang brings both his hands up to his and rests his fingers curled around his wrists and the touch steadies him. 

“Me too, Hwa Please...”

Seonghwa nods and as he unbuttons the silk shirt, he bends and presses his mouth to every delicious inch of skin he reveals. He drags his mouth across the exposed expanse of his chest, luxuriating in the feel of it beneath his mouth. He traces his exposed abs with his tongue and by then he’s kneeling in front of Yeosang again.  

Yeosang’s face is a vision above him.  He’s breathing a little hard and there’s a telltale flush of arousal spreading across his neck onto his cheeks. He reaches down to run a hand through Seonghwa’s hair, tugging a little, but his eyes are on his mouth.  He drops his hand down to his jaw again, like he did before and presses his thumb against Seonghwa’s lower lip. 

“You have the most gorgeous mouth, Hwa. Did you know that?” 

Seonghwa blushes at that and swipes his tongue over the thumb resting so lightly against his lip before he closes his lips over it and sucks it into his mouth. He flattens the tip a little and wraps it around Yeosang’s thumb, before swirling it up and around and pulling off and away. 

Yeosang looks gone.  He’s staring at Seonghwa’s mouth like he’s seen Nirvana. 

“Fuck,” he mutters.  “Hwa.  Please.” He drops his hands away to his waist and he starts messing around with his belt but Seonghwa bats his hands away. 

“Let me do this, pretty thing.”  He makes swift work of unbuckling the black leather belt, sliding it free from its loops and tossing it across the room.  He keeps his eyes on his hands, popping the button and undoing the zip. He lets the fabric pool around Yeosang’s feet and holds his hand, so he can step out of them and not get his feet tangled.  

Yeosang isn’t overly muscular but he has enough definition on his thighs and calves to make Seonghwa feel a little weak.  He sits back on his heels and looks up at Yeosang who’s staring at him without any sign of self-consciousness, his lips parted a little, the tip of his tongue just visible. 

He trails his hands up his calves, around the back of his knees, and up the back of his thighs where he rests then, opening his fingers wide so that they span just below his ass and he squeezes.  The gesture makes Yeosang give an involuntary gasp and he takes a half step forward, brushing his groin against Seonghwa’s face. 

His boxers are black and they fit snugly leaving no doubt how much Seonghwa is affecting him.  Seonghwa presses his face against him and breathes out hotly against his clothed hardness, making Yeosang moan softly, hands finding purchase in Seonghwa’s hair again. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out above him.  “Seonghwa.”

“You’re so hard for me, pretty thing.  Can I taste you?”  Seonghwa stills, staring up at him.  “Baby, you’ve got to talk to me. I need you to tell me you’re okay with this. With what I’m doing, right now.”

“Yes,” Yeosang blinks heavily down at him.  Then he nods to show Seonghwa in case his voice wasn’t enough.   “Yes, please, Seonghwa.  Just don’t stop touching me.”

  “Hmm, lets get this off you,” Seonghwa says, sitting back a little so he can see what he’s doing.  He slowly pulls Yeosang’s boxers off and inhales softly when Yeosang’s hard length springs free.  Like the rest of Yeosang his cock is in perfect proportion.  It’s long, and full with the tip slightly bulbous and flushed.  “Fuck, baby. Look at you.” He noses at his length, dragging his jaw along it before opening his mouth and sucking the tip lightly.  “You taste so good.” And he did.  Seonghwa knows that it is pheromones and hormones talking, but there is something about the taste and feel of Yeosang under his lips and in his mouth that just hit differently.  

He drags his tongue along his hard length, pulling back and arching his neck so that he can look up at Yeosang.  Yeosang is staring straight back at him, unblinkingly.  His eyes are huge and knowing he’s putting that look of pure naked lust on his face, makes Seonghwa thrum with pleasure.   

Still holding his gaze, he opens his mouth wide and laps at his cock, making full use of his long tongue. He loses himself easily in the motions, closing his lips around him, pulling back, pushing back down, incrementally, getting used to the feeling of Yeosang in his mouth.  He’s peripherally aware of his own cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans but right now, it’s of secondary concern.  He can feel Yeosang quivering above him, his hands tangled in Seonghwa’s thick hair, letting out these tiny whimpers that only encourages Seonghwa to make him come apart. 

“Hwa, oh god, please,” Yeosang is saying.  “Please, I can’t..” He lets out a moan and shudders wildly at a particularly long slow drag of Seonghwa’s tongue.  “I can’t think when you do that.  Fuck.”

“You’re not supposed to think, baby,” Seonghwa says, sitting back again. “You’re just supposed to enjoy it.”

“Can you come up here and kiss me again?” Yeosang asks him sweetly, tugging at his shirt.  “Just so I can catch my breath?” 

“All you have to do is ask,” Seonghwa tells him and he stands again, making sure to keep his hands on Yeosang’s body.  His skin is hot and feels like silk under his palms and he presses close, bending his mouth to his and kisses him, open mouthed, all tongue and heat. Yeosang moans against him, his own hand finding its way under Seonghwa’s shirt and he splays his hand over his chest, nails digging into the skin there, just a little painfully. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.  Jesus fuck,” he mutters against Seonghwa’s mouth.  “What the fuck, you drive me crazy.”

“Same, pretty thing.” Seonghwa dips his head and angles himself so he can rub against Yeosang’s naked erection.  The pressure of his still clothed cock brushing against him makes them both groan and Yeosang drops his forehead against Seonghwa’s shoulder so he can look down between them. 

“I’m making a mess of your jeans,” he says but his voice is gone and raspy.  “I’ll buy you another pair.”

“It can go in the wash,” Seonghwa tells him, amused. He tilts Yeosang’s face back up with a finger under his chin.  “Stop talking and let me kiss you?”

Yeosang nods.  “Please, kissing you is like…the best thing.” He presses back against him, moving his hips in a slow circle against Seonghwa’s.  “Your mouth, Hwa.  Should get awards.”

Seonghwa can’t help the chuckle.  “Thanks?”

“Get undressed,” Yeosang tells him, reaching between them so he can cup Seonghwa.  “This is nice but I want to see you too. Please?”

And who is Seonghwa to say no? He kicks off his shoes first, then pulls his shirt off, dropping it to the floor carelessly.  Yeosang stops any further movement when he brushes Seonghwa’s hands away from his jeans fastening.  “You are flawless, you know that?”  He runs gentle hands over his shoulders, trailing his fingers over his chest and then further down, coming to rest just above Seonghwa’s waist where his jeans are hanging low on his hips. He stares at his thumb pressing lightly against the skin there for a few long seconds, as if deciding something. 

“Hwa,” he says then, dragging his eyes up to his.  “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, of course.” Seonghwa tangles his fingers with Yeosang’s and gets his breathing under control.  “Whatever you want tonight is fine, okay?” 

“I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time.” Yeosang swallows and like Seonghwa he seems to be doing his utmost to get his breathing under control.  “I really, and I mean this, I really want you but Hwa, I’m so scared. I’m so turned on but I’m just so fucking scared. I want you in me so much but I don’t know if I can...”

“Hey,” Seonghwa says and it feels like his world is righting itself as he presses his forehead against Yeosang’s.  “It’s okay to not want to go all the way.  I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want.  We’re not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?” He presses a grounding kiss against his mouth.  “I won’t hurt you.  Please, just, understand that?”

“Yes,” Yeosang nods.  “Okay. Thank you, fuck.  You’re just too much and I like you so fucking much.” He shudders a little and gets a grip on himself before giving Seonghwa a small wrecked smile. He dips his fingers below Seonghwa’s waistband and pops the button of his jeans open, and pushes it down his legs, snagging Seonghwa’s boxers in the process too.  “But this I have been dreaming of for weeks now so, let me have this,” he mutters and steps back to stare down at Seonghwa. “And of course your cock is as pretty as the rest of you.  Fuck me, honestly.”

Seonghwa gives a little breathless laugh at that honesty and at his little groan of annoyance whilst he kicks his jeans and boxers aside and then he also toes his socks off.  Nothing less sexy than a naked man still wearing socks. 

“Come,” Seonghwa says, feeling surprisingly less nervous than he thought he would as he takes Yeosang’s hand and tugs him onto the bed.  He props himself up against the headboard and pillows and pulls Yeosang onto his lap, bringing his knees up behind him.  “There, that’s better.  How’re you doing, pretty thing?”

“I’m naked,” Yeosang tells him, as if he was sharing something he wasn’t aware of.  “And I’m sitting in your lap.  And you are so gorgeous and hot.  And I’ve got your cock in my hand and I am honestly? Pretty fucking okay.”

Seonghwa laughs at that, a quiet chuckle and he rests his eyes where Yeosang has his hand wrapped around him and it looks so good, it feels so good, he feels heat flushing through his body. 

“God, you just…it feels like,” he starts but Yeosang is already nodding, his eyes also on his hand wrapped around Seonghwa’s hard length.  He’s moving his wrist lightly, dragging the skin and it’s a little dry, but it’s also fucking perfect.   

“Yeah, I know, fuck. This is…a lot.” Then he lets go and licks a long wet streak over the palm of his hand before he gets back to jerking Seonghwa off.  

“Jesus, why is that so hot.” Seonghwa drops his head back against the headboard and just lets Yeosang handle him.  He presses his hands into his duvet and arches under him, lifting them both off the bed.  

“Your fucking god tier thighs and abs, Hwa.  The fuck?” Yeosang presses a hand down on his Seonghwa’s stomach, spreading his fingers wide.  Seonghwa grabs his hand and pulls it higher, making Yeosang lean forward a little, making their erections press together and he stills, his eyes very wide.  

“Oh,” he says.  

“God, yes,” Seonghwa replies pressing a kiss to his open palm before dropping it.  “Lube. Don’t move.” He twists under Yeosang and reaches for the bedside table and fishes around the drawer for the lubricant.  “Come on, pretty thing.  Let’s do this together, yeah?” 

He squirts lubricant on both their hands before he resettles himself against the headboard, Yeosang’s eyes huge.  He lines them up together and then he holds his hand out to Yeosang who takes it and laces their fingers together, effectively caging their cocks between their hands. 

“Oh Jesus fucking hell,” Yeosang mutters.  

And Seonghwa fully agrees because it feels incredible. Yeosang’s cock rubs against his, the pressure of their linked hands not enough and too much at the same time.  He knows he’s not going to last but then the way Yeosang’s hips are stuttering looks like he’s not the only one completely out of it.  He sits forward then and catches his mouth with his.  Kissing Yeosang can become a habit, he thinks. He tastes like his favourite new drug, something that goes straight to his head, driving him crazy. 

He fucks into Yeosang’s mouth with each upward push of their hands and he can tell Yeosang gets it and he’s greedy right back, pushing back, chasing each thrusting of his tongue with soft moans and little growls whilst working his wrist between them. 

It’s dirty and slick and so fucking sexy Seonghwa moans at the sensation of the two of them rubbing against each other.  He wants, he just wants to devour the other boy and so he pushes his free hand up into Yeosang’s hair and pulls his head back a little so that the perfect column of his neck is bared to him.   He leaves bites and kisses along the length of his neck, across his collar bones, licking into that deep cleft of his clavicle that’s taunted him since day one.  

Yeosang is moaning against him now and he loves it, he loves knowing that it’s him making this beautiful boy react to his mouth and touch like this.  He moves his mouth back up to kiss him harder and Yeosang sighs into his mouth, hot and eager and he’s got one arm wrapped around Seonghwa’s neck, pulling him closer and using it as leverage so he can move his hips between them.  Seonghwa’s doing the same, thrusting up between them, and they’ve got an incredible rhythm going now, hands and mouths and thrusting and stares between them. Seonghwa thinks he’s going to pass out because Jesus, Yeosang has his hand on him and the sight of it blows his mind. They look so good together.  

“Hwa,” Yeosang’s moaning.  “Fuck Hwa, oh my god.  I’m so close.  Help me.” 

And Seonghwa flips them then so he’s kneeling between Yeosang’s legs and he’s got his hand around both of them and Yeosang keens, arching his back beautifully. Seonghwa works them fast and hard, rubbing a thumb over this slit, spreading his precum to mix with the lube and he can feel that delicious heat starting low low in his stomach and he leans closer to Yeosang, catching his eyes with his.  

“Pretty thing, I want you to come for me.  Can you do that?  I want to see you.”

Yeosang gives him a sharp nod and wraps his hand unconsciously and painfully hard around Seonghwa’s wrist as he bucks up between them, never breaking the rhythm Seonghwa had set.  Seonghwa kisses him then, knowing that Yeosang was close and wanting to feel him moan into his mouth as he comes.  And he does, he comes with an elongated low sweet moan that is designed to stick in Seonghwa’s mind forever.  He comes between them in thick ropes of white, all over Seonghwa’s hand and stomach.  Seonghwa lets out a groan of his own, hand still wrapped around them both, making Yeosang gasp out his name, low and raw.  He is so gone on the boy beneath him that it takes only a few more strokes before he comes too. He’s hyper aware of everything, his skin feels like it’s on fire.  Yeosang’s breath ghosts over the skin of his neck as he leans over him, his expression a little dazed, his mind swimming on endorphins. 

“Fuck,” he groans and Yeosang’s eyes focus on him properly and he gives him a heavy look.

“Yeah, that was…” he drops his hand away from Seonghwa’s wrist.  “Intense, holy shit.”

With the greatest of difficulty Seonghwa sits up, pushing back on his heels and looks down at Yeosang who looks blissed out, sprawled naked beneath him, their mingled cum cooling on his stomach and chest.

“You okay, messy thing?” Seonghwa’s voice is blown and Yeosang wrinkles his nose at him. 

“Shut up, you helped make this mess.” Yeosang huffs a little laugh at him and stretches lazily. “But yeah, I’m so okay.  Totally a lot okay.  Just clean me up so I can nap.”

“Brat,” Seonghwa mutters and it earns him a mock offended gasps which he loves.  

When he gets back from the bathroom Yeosang looks half asleep already.  He cleans him up with a warm damp towel and drops it on the floor on the side of the bed.  

“Hydrate,” he tells him, holding out a bottle of water he’d snagged from the fridge. 

“Sleepy tho,” Yeosang mutters but Seonghwa pinches his hip lightly. 

“Drink, come on.  It’s hot and you need to stay hydrated.”

Yeosang grumbles but he drinks half the bottle before giving it back to Seonghwa who finishes it and tosses it in the bin.  He sinks down on the bed and Yeosang immediately curls up at his side, his head on his shoulder, as soon as he’s settled.  Seonghwa drops a hand to Yeosang’s head and runs his fingers through his damp hair for a bit, listening to him breathe. 

“You okay, pretty thing?” 

Yeosang makes a small movement against his chest.  Then he feels his lips lightly against his skin,  just above his nipple and his breath catches a little. 

“I am, thank you.”

Seonghwa leans forward and presses a kiss to his head.  “Such good manners. Sleep?”

“Yeah, for a bit.  I missed you.”

“Same, baby.  I missed you so fucking much.”

Yeosang mutters something, lips pressed against his skin and he wiggles closer, reaching for Seonghwa’s free hand where it’s resting on his stomach, lacing their fingers together again.  Seonghwa drifts off, sated, mind full of the boy in his arms. 

***

Seonghwa wakes up to the sight of Yeosang sprawled next to him. Some time during the night Yeosang had flipped over so he could lie on his stomach, one arm hooked around a pillow, the other angled so he could rest his face on his arm.  Seonghwa’s bedside alarm tells him it was just gone four a.m.  The light outside was barely there and soft grey.  It is far too early to be awake but Yeosang is right there and he looks so tempting. 

Seonghwa turns on his side properly so he can run his left hand lightly down the centre of Yeosang’s back. Yeosang shrugs a little, making a small pout of annoyance in his sleep, grumbling a little, and it makes Seonghwa grin. He inches closer, nosing at Yeosang’s face that is partially hidden by his arm and watches him come awake slowly. 

“Wha?” Yeosang’s voice is thick with sleep and he looks so grumpy, Seonghwa is immediately endeared. “Hwa, what y’doin’?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa whispers.  “Just wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh. Hmm.  Okay, m’kisses.” Yeosang leans up on his elbows and purses his lips, eyelids fluttering sleepily. 

Seonghwa presses a chaste kiss to his lips and Yeosang sighs a softly.  “More please?”

“More?” Seonghwa teases.  “You sure?”

“Always sure of you,” Yeosang tells him, still sleepy voiced and soft. 

“Okay then.”  Seonghwa kisses him slow and deep with lingering touches down his back and Yeosang shudders against him, crawling closer until he’s in Seonghwa’s lap, pressing him back against the pillows, controlling the kiss, both arms bracketing Seonghwa’s head.  

“God I want you so much,” Yeosang mutters against his mouth.  “You just…fuck, Hwa. You mess with my head.” He curls his hands into fists and gives Seonghwa a little shake. "I just want you to do whatever you want but then I just get scared but it makes it worse, but I like it?"

“That shouldn’t make me want to fuck you as much as it does,” Seonghwa admits,  “And I really do want you, but Yeosang?”

“Hmm?”

“Only when you tell me, okay? I am not going to until you give me the go ahead.  A clear instruction, yeah?”

And Yeosang is nodding against him, foreheads pressed together. “Yes, yeah, I understand. I get it.”

"And I think we need a safe word," Seonghwa says.  "In case something happens and one of us needs to stop."

"Okay, yes.  That's a good idea. Let me think."  Yeosang thinks about it by kissing him and Seonghwa finds himself smiling against his mouth.  The kiss is teasing, a musing on a kiss, a deconstruction of a kiss.  He eventually lets up a little.  "How about 'nightingale'?" 

Seonghwa thinks its perfect.  It's not a word they'd use in everyday conversation so if either of them said it, the other would know to back away and slow down. 

“I like it, pretty thing,” Seonghwa says, pulling his head down to his so he can kiss him again.  They spend what feels like hours just kissing, touching and working each other up with soft words, tentative touches and bold eyes. 

Yeosang works his way down Seonghwa’s body and goes down on him, wrapping his mouth around his cock and Seonghwa thinks he’s never looked more gorgeous.  He watches, mesmerised, as Yeosang works himself up whilst sucking him off.  He looks gone, completely lost in the sensation and feel of it and Seonghwa knows how that feels, how addictive it is because you’re the one in power, wielding the pleasure.

Yeosang is shaking when he pulls back off Seonghwa.  His lips are red and slick with precum and saliva and his eyes are glazed. His cock is straining against his stomach and he hisses when Seonghwa touches him lightly. 

“You are so incredibly gorgeous,” he tells Yeosang.  “Fuck baby. Your mouth.”  Yeosang leans forward then and kisses him. He tastes himself on Yeosang’s tongue and he deepens the kiss, holding him in place with a hand to the back of his neck, lost in their combined taste.  Yeosang is hovering over him, back arched, bracing himself on Seonghwa’s thighs and he gives a low little growl when Seonghwa drifts his hand down so he could wrap it around Yeosang’s erection. 

“No,” Yeosang says against his mouth.  “Lie down. Or I’ll stop.”

So Seonghwa lies down and loses his mind as Yeosang sinks back down between his legs and proceeds to give Seonghwa the blowjob of his life.  

***

Much later after he makes Yeosang come twice more, after utterly wrecking him, after pressing wet kisses into his open mouth, after eliciting pornographic moans from him as he jerked him off and after whispering filthy dirty things in his ear (you’re mine now, pretty thing and i’m going to make you feel so good when you let me fuck you and god, i love the taste of your cock in my mouth and i want you to fuck me too, soon, please, pretty thing) and after finally, finally getting his mouth on his gorgeous ass, and after recklessly biting and sucking his marks into that clear smooth skin of his hips and thighs, did Seonghwa make them breakfast. 

Yeosang is balancing on the edge of the counter next to the overblown bouquet of flowers he'd sent him, watching Seonghwa move around the kitchen. He’s wearing one of Seonghwa’s old dance t-shirts. It’s stretched out and too big on him and Seonghwa finds himself stopping often to just kiss him.  And Yeosang lets him, kisses him back, by turns shy and adorably brazen, tugging at Seonghwa’s hand when he ignores him for too long, wrapping his legs around Seonghwa’s waist, trapping him against him and the counter and kissing him long and teasingly. 

It’s so perfect and sweet and Seonghwa is so deeply sated and in love, he feels languid with it, heavy and drunk but a little high at the same time. 

They are supposed to meet the others for a late afternoon picnic and although Yeosang had brought clothes it’s too warm for his skinny jeans so he makes swift work of one of Seonghwa’s old pairs of jeans.   Seonghwa watches in shock as Yeosang measures, cuts and trims the legs so that they end just below his knees. Then he slashes the thighs with a sharp knife, fraying the cut edges. 

“Can I borrow some of your paint?” he asks Seonghwa where he’s kneeling on the floor amidst the destroyed jeans. “And do you have any old brushes?”

“I only have acrylic,” he says, bemused, handing a shoebox full of tubes over.  He watches Yeosang spread old newspapers on the floor before setting to work, decorating the jeans he was planning on throwing out.  

They transformed under his hands and when he hands Seonghwa a brush and tells him ‘paint me something’ Seonghwa set to it without question.  Yeosang, once he was satisfied with the level of decoration sat back with a nod and looked over at Seonghwa. 

“What did you write?” Seonghwa leans forward so he could read the lettering Yeosang had printed in a remarkably steady hand between the torn strips. 

우리들은 모두

무엇이 되고 싶다.

너는 나에게 나는 너에게

잊혀지지 않는 하나의 눈짓이 되고 싶다.

Seonghwa had expected another sarcastic something, not a poem.  Not a love poem.  He looks down at the flowers he had speed painted all along the other leg and stared at Yeosang, wondering how they’d managed to paint the same poem without meaning to.  One with words, the other with flowers. 

“It was my mother’s favourite poem,” Yeosang told him, his eyes shining.  “And I think now it’s mine too, because I think I understand it now.”

Seonghwa trailed his fingers over the words and read them out and if his fingers trembled a little, that was okay too, because Yeosang was staring at him with enormous eyes and a look far too tentative and scared for someone that young. 

We all long to be something.

You, to me, and I, to you, 

long to become a gaze that won’t be forgotten

Seonghwa reaches for him, blindly, carelessly, and pulls him into his lap, folding his arms around his waist, pressing him close and tucking his head into the crook of Yeosang’s neck.  He has no words, none, and Yeosang just holds onto him tight.  They sit like that for a few minutes, with Seonghwa fighting waves of something that swings wildly from anger that Yeosang could be that tentative about being loved and scared of loving someone in turn, to elation that Yeosang had, in a way, confessed to him. He closes his eyes and burrows deeper into his lovers arms whilst Yeosang runs a calming hand down his spine, letting Seonghwa settle against him. 

“You good?” He presses his lips against Seonghwa’s bangs, peering down at him when he gets no answer. “Hwa, baby?”

“Hmm.”

“You’re very quiet.  It’s not like you.”

“Can’t help it,” Seonghwa mutters into his skin. 

“Okay.” Yeosang’s spreads his hand wider, pulling him closer, not understanding but offering nonetheless.  “It’s okay, baby.  I’m here.”

“You called me baby.”  If Seonghwa’s voice is a little faint then so be it.  It was all just a little too much. 

He could feel Yeosang smile against cheek.  “I know.  Did you like it?”

“I dunno, it was unexpected. I am emotionally compromised so I didn’t get the full effect.”

Yeosang nudges him a little and he leans back to stare at him. Yeosang looks a little shy and there’s a flush riding his cheeks but he presses his lips to Seonghwa’s anyway. 

“Oh no, baby, I’m sorry you were compromised. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Seonghwa chases his lips and they waste time kissing and touching aimlessly.  Eventually Yeosang pulls back and glances over his shoulder at the altered jeans behind them. It’s an obvious effort and Seonghwa is so impressed by it, he lets him go. 

“Do you have a hairdryer? Some bits may still be wet and I don’t want to smudge my newly painted jeans.”

They raid Hongjoong’s room for a hairdryer and once they’ve almost burned the thing out, drying the paint on Yeosang’s jeans, they get dressed. Seonghwa in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a random t-shirt from his wardrobe that he pretends Yeosang doesn’t wince at.  Yeosang pulls on one of his black t-shirts  emblazoned with the word salvaged in a vintage style font.  Teamed with Seonghwa’s (now Yeosang’s) ancient ripped and altered jeans, and Yeosang’s classic Docs, he looks too fucking cute.  Like a punk rock fairy with a bad attitude.  And Seonghwa loves that he wears the outfit without an iota of self-consciousness.  He somehow thinks that Yeosang could wear a bin bag and make it look good. 

Yeosang grumbles a little when he sees the marks Seonghwa had left on his neck, some from earlier in the morning, but when Seonghwa hugs him from behind and licks at the one just under his jaw, his eyelids flutter close tellingly and Seonghwa smirks at him in the mirror, earning himself a slap.  “I’m sorry,’ he says.  “I should have asked before I did that.”

“I don’t mind. But they’ll have faded by the weekend,” he answers and when he sees Seonghwa’s eyes go wide in the mirror he turns to look at him, pressing close.  “It’s fine. You can put them back when they do.”  And Seonghwa lets out a little possessive growl and he presses him back against the mirror in the hallway and kisses him wildly, hands finding the tears in his jeans and he palms his thigh, dragging it high up against his hip and Yeosang lets out a shuddering moan. 

“Fuck, Hwa, you have to stop or we’re never going to leave this apartment.”  But he chases his mouth and sucks on Seonghwa’s tongue and Seonghwa can feel himself getting hard.   Eventually Yeosang pushes him off and gets to the door, which he yanks open, almost desperately.  “No, picnic, remember? With friends? Outside in the world.”

They stumble to the lift, giggling and a bit silly.  Seonghwa doesn’t stop kissing Yeosang, little pecks, on his cheek and forehead and Yeosang puts up a struggle and goes ‘Ugh, Hwa, stop.” But he doesn’t seem to be protesting really. They get in the elevator and a lady from one of the floors above stares at them both, cuddling her little dog closer to her chest, her gaze lingering on Yeosang’s neck, going to Seonghwa who can’t help but square his shoulders, getting ready for a fight.  He steps closer to the other boy, drops his hand to rest on his waist and just holds onto him.  

Yeosang just stares at her, his expression blank, whilst Seonghwa presses close to him.  They exit the lift behind her and when she hesitates at the door to look over her shoulder at them, they both stop in their tracks. 

She gives them another silent once over before she turns and buzzes the door open.  The little dog in her arms squirms and she drops it to the ground, just as they move past her. 

“Excuse me?”  Her voice, when it comes is sweet, cultured.  “Are you Yeosang? Kang Yeosang?”

Seonghwa stills in surprise at Yeosang’s side and they turn towards her in unison. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are,” Yeosang says and his tone is the wind over the icy tundra cold. 

Seonghwa steps towards her.  He has no idea what he wants to do, but he’d punch her if she said anything to hurt Yeosang, he knew that without a doubt.  Her gaze flickered to his before it moves back to Yeosang who’d angled himself so that Seonghwa was at his side.  When she speaks again, her voice is calm and yet, sweet in tone and expression. 

“Of course you won’t know me.  I met you when you were very young.  You were with your mother when I met you.  You were maybe four years old?”

Yeosang doesn’t say anything.  He just stares at the woman. Seonghwa can feel him vibrating with emotion. 

“I’m sorry, but we really have to go,” Seonghwa says, lacing his fingers with Yeosang’s.  “We have friends waiting.”

“Or course, I didn’t mean to hold you up.” She smiles properly at his words and there are unexpected dimples in her cheeks. She nods to Seonghwa, her eyes locking on their linked hands before she looks at Yeosang again.  “And I’m sorry I stared at you.  You just surprised me.  You look so much like her.”

“I don’t remember,” Yeosang says then, surprising the woman.  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“Oh, that’s fine, honey.  You were very small but such a sweetheart.  My name is Min Eun-ha.” She swung her purse around and withdrew an elegant business card and handed it to Yeosang who took it and stared down at it.  

“You’re a photographer?”

“I am.”

“You took our family photos? I have one from around that age at home.”

She smiles wider at that.  “That would be from me.  I did a few formal ones but your father overruled them.  He was adamant he didn’t want awful posed photos, like so many of his peers had in their homes.  So I spent the weekend with you and your family and went through a lot of film shooting candids. It was a very special assignment for me.  Your parents were lovely and loved you so much. I was very sad when I heard about the accident. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

Yeosang looks like he wants to either throw up or pass out at her words.  He’s holding onto Seonghwa’s hand with a bruising grip.  “Thank you,” Yeosang manages, his voice very low and strained.   He bows a brief formal bow before straightening.  “Thank you for telling me. We have to go now." 

Eun-ha’s smile was kind.  She flicked her gaze to Seonghwa.  “Thank you for your time.  Have fun with your friends today.”

She then tugs her little dog’s lead and he trots off behind her, heading away from the building on high tippy toes. 

Yeosang watches her go before he turns to look at Seonghwa and lets out a heavy breath. 

“Are you okay?”

Yeosang took an eternity to look up at him before nodding.  Then he changed his mind.  “No, I’m really not okay.”

“We can go back upstairs? The guys won’t mind.”  Seonghwa turns, ready to head back towards the door but Yeosang tugs him back. 

“No.  I’m not fine, but it’s okay, Hwa. I’m not that fragile that I have to hide away." He finds both of Seonghwa's hands and hold them.  "I haven't spoken to anyone about my parents in years, so hearing a complete stranger mention them, just.  It took me by surprise.  But really, I’m fine. I don’t want this to mess up today, okay?”

Seonghwa stares back at him.  The way Yeosang was holding himself, his shoulders a bit high, his back so very straight made him ache. He knows that posture and remembers it from when they first met and he remembers how long it took for this boy who guards himself so well to drop those shoulders a little lower.  

“Are you sure, babe? The guys will understand if I tell them we don’t want to come out and join them.”

“Hah, they will be merciless this whole week if we hide from them when they know we spent the night having all kinds of fun,” Yeosang says blithely.  And his smile isn’t 100% full wattage, but it’s a good smile anyway and it does what it’s meant to do. 

“What?” Seonghwa blinks.  “How would they know?”

“I told them,” Yeosang says, his tone so careless, and completely taking the wind from Seonghwa's sails.  “I thought they ought to know.”

“You what now?”

Seonghwa let himself be pulled along with heavy feet down the sidewalk.  He was staring at Yeosang and Yeosang was pretending not to blush wildly. 

“Well, I didn’t really tell them, tell them.  It’s more like I sent the group chat photographic evidence.”

Seonghwa couldn’t quite believe him.  He fished mutely for his phone and saw that it was turned off completely.  He turns his eyes back to Yeosang. 

“Did you turn off my phone?”

Yeosang only blinks at him innocently, biting his lip looking too cute to be healthy for anyone’s heart, Seonghwa’s especially. 

“Pretty thing, what did you do?”

Seonghwa pulls him close and turns his phone back on with the other hand.  A bombardment of messages go off on his phone.  All from the group chat.  He opens the chat and doesn’t bother reading the messages, he just scrolls through until he finds what he’s looking for. 

The photo takes a moment to sink in. Yeosang is very still at his side and Seonghwa can feel Yeosang watching him.  Seonghwa takes a deep breath and holds it, his hand tightening around his phone, before he looks at Yeosang. 

“You really are chaotic evil, aren’t you?”  And then he kisses him, laughing incredulously.  “Please, never ever change.”

He looks down at the photo again, grinning.  Yeosang was lying snuggled against Seonghwa, with his head on his shoulder.  Yeosang’s lips were swollen and red, visible even in the grey early morning light.  Yeosang had angled the camera so that it focusses on him, with Seonghwa visible just behind him, a little blurry.  But it is Yeosang staring at the camera, looking a little shy but very self-satisfied, that draws the eye.  That, and the love bites Seonghwa had sucked all over his neck and collarbones.  His boy looks like sin.  He’d captioned the photo: Got lucky last night.  We’ll be late to the picnic. 

“Have you read any of the comments?” He asks Yeosang who is grinning quietly to himself. 

“No. I turned my phone off the second I sent it.  Then I woke you up with a blowjob.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Seonghwa pushes his phone back into his pocket.  “Say blowjob again.”

He watches the flush creep along Yeosang’s neck. He wants to chase it with his lips, but he holds back.  “Blowjob,” Yeosang says, his lips forming the perfect o’s as he speaks the syllables.  It was hot as fuck.  

“Okay, so,” Seonghwa says, tilting his head up to look at the sky, blinking at emotions.  “There are words that are not appropriate to say around me.  That’s one of them.”

Yeosang breaks into giggles then.  “Any others?” 

‘Sorry, I can’t think.  I’m just remembering your perfect mouth on me.”

It makes Yeosang blush harder and laugh even harder.  He pulls out of Seonghwa’s grip as he tries to reel him closer for another kiss.  

“Come on.  I want to show off my outfit.  Can we go now?”

Seonghwa lets him get cajoled along for a few metres before he falls in beside Yeosang. 

“Thank you,” Yeosang says after a few minutes of walking.  

“What for?” 

“For being with me. For wanting to fight her for me.”

“You didn’t need me,” Seonghwa says and it’s true.  “You did so well, baby.  I would’ve been floored by a stranger coming up to me like that.”

“Hmm,” Yeosang says and he leans against Seonghwa’s shoulder as they walk.  “I would have been but you being there really helped.  So thank you.” He leans up and presses a kiss against Seonghwa’s jaw. 

They stop off at the market near the river and buy snacks and bowls of ready prepared fruit.  When they eventually find the others they’re met with lewd wolf whistles and cat calls.  Seonghwa just hangs his head in exasperation but Yeosang goes on the offence, strutting up to them, head high, hips swaying, his hand possessively in Seonghwa’s back pocket.  

“Hey losers,” he greets them and sinks down on the blankets.  “We bring snacks and fruit.  Behold our benevolence.  We left our sex dungeon to be with you this day.  So you better appreciate it.”

“Sex dungeon?” San cries, overly loud, making other people picnicking nearby look over in horror. 

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa mutters to himself, wondering how fast he could speedwalk away from them all but Yeosang grabs hold of him and yanks him down so that he falls down next to him, inelegantly.  

“Yes, do we get to see this sex dungeon or…?” Mingi asks, no less loud than San, drawing more looks because his voice is deep. 

“Joongie, why didn’t ever tell me Seonghwa has a sex dungeon?” Yunho asks Hongjoong who was trying to get his breath back after chocking on air. 

“Babe, can we go see their sex dungeon?” Jongho desmands in a whiney voice and Wooyoung looks like he too wants to die because people are staring.  

“There is NO SEX DUNGEON,” Seonghwa yells.  “Can we all just stop saying sex dungeon, goddamn.”

And that is how the picnic starts.  It’s lucky that no one calls the police to have them escorted away from the park for being too noisy and ridiculous. 

***

The week after is as busy as the week before the showcase because they’re more than halfway through the semester and people are panicking about upcoming exams and long-ass papers being due.  The professors seem hell-bent on destroying everyone’s lives before summer break and just keep adding more to the workload.  

Seonghwa only sees Yeosang during the day when they manage to meet for lunch off-campus at the coffee shop they went to the first time. Seonghwa feels starved of Yeosang. He can’t sleep at all and instead he draws and paints and he stumbles into class clutching coffee so thick and dark, he can barely bring himself to drink it, but he needs it.  

Yeosang is busy with his classes and meetings with his professors, talking to them about his designs, the show he’s planning for the end of the semester and finishing coursework so he had the coming weekend free.  He’s stressed and irritable but when he sees Seonghwa waiting for him in the coffeeshop, he seems to remember to breathe. 

By the time Friday rolls around, Seonghwa feels like he’s dying.  He packs his clothes, choosing carefully which jeans to take, what shirts. He folds the suit and shirts from Yeosang carefully into the suitcase and he spends far too long trying to decide which shoes to take.  

He gets a call from Yeosang just before one to tell him he’s on his way.  He looks around his room one last time before he heads out.  The elevator opens and he hesitates for a moment when he recognised Eun-ha.  She’s got a large bag slung over one shoulder and she’s dressed in fraying jeans, t-shirt and linen jacket.  

“Eun-ha-ssi,” Seonghwa greets her as he wheels his bag into the elevator.  

“It is good to see you again,” she says, smiling at him.  “Running away for the weekend?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding, cursing his own luck for running into her.  Her eyes were knowing as she stared at him, then at the case.   

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Seonghwa felt himself flush at her words.  He stares at her for a few seconds then he shook his head.  “No, I don’t.  You scared Yeosang. I don’t like that.”

“That was not my intention.  You have to understand.”  Eun-ha put her bag down carefully on the ground.  “Cameras and lenses,” she says by way of explanation.  “I’ve got a photoshoot today.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t respond and he aches with how rude he’s being but her gaze doesn’t leave his face. 

“What do you know about Yeosang’s family?” 

“It is none of my business, or yours,” he says, his hand tightening on his wheelie case’s handle. “Please do not gossip.”

“If you’re going where I think you’re going, you need to know this.  No, just, let me say this, please.” Her eyes met his.  “Be careful of them.  They are not good people.  They treated Yeosang’s parents very badly.  It broke my heart when I heard they died and that he had to live with them.”  She moved closer and her voice dropped even more.  Seonghwa wanted to shove her away, block his ears somehow but there was nowhere to go and as much as he wanted to punch her, he didn’t want to get arrested.  “I know you love him, that was much was obvious when I met you the other day.  So, if you’re going to the island today, don’t leave him alone with them for one second.”

The doors opened and she stepped out smartly, her large bag back over her shoulder.  She didn’t look back when she pushed through the doors and headed to a large silver Mercedes idling at the curb.  

Seonghwa watched her go feeling sick. He got out of the elevator and trailed his bag behind him, desperately trying not to think about what she had just said.  He ran a hand over his face and put his sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the harsh midday sun.  A dark SUV came to a stop at the curb and Kim, the driver from the other night, jumped out and ran around to open the door for him. 

“Mr. Park, good to see you again,” the man said, grabbing Seonghwa’s bag and putting it in the boot.  

“Hey, Hwa,” Yeosang calls from inside the car.  “You okay out there?”

“Yes,” he says, putting a smile on his face.  “Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He gets in and Kim slams the door shut behind him before running back round and getting behind the wheel.  

“You just looked so angry,” Yeosang says, giving him a smile.  He moves so he could sit sideways a little.  He brings both hands up to Seonghwa’s face and brushes his thumbs over the crease still drawing Seonghwa’s brows together.  “Don’t frown.  You’ll get wrinkles.”

Seonghwa stares at him.  Stares into those hazel eyes and he wonders.  Then he leans forward and kisses him.  Not hard, not a claiming kind of kiss, just a soft sweet kiss with no tongue, no teeth, just a soft gentle pressure.  It surprises Yeosang, but his mouth opens a little, the tiniest fraction, and then he kisses Seonghwa back, equally sweet and a little shy.  

“Hi,” he says, dipping his chin.  

“I missed you,” Seonghwa tells him.  “You look so good.”  He drags his eyes over Yeosang’s black linen shirt that’s tucked into a pair of black jeans. “You smell so good.”

“You do too,” Yeosang says, his eyes a little bold as he takes in Seonghwa’s own button down shirt and light blue jeans.  “You clean up well, Hwa.”

“Didn’t want to embarrass you,” he said, grinning at him.  

“Like you could,” Yeosang answers smoothly, straightening in his seat, but keeping his hand linked with Seonghwa’s. 

Seonghwa watches the signboard for the airport go by and frowns at Yeosang.  

“We missed the turnoff,” he says, pointing back over his shoulder.  

“What for?”

“The airport.”

“Oh, no.  We’re not travelling from Incheon,” Yeosang says with a grin.  

“What? Then what?”  But Yeosang refuses to answer and Seonghwa catches the driver’s eye and sees the man smiling at them.  “Kim, you have to tell me.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” the man says and smoothly increases the sound of music in the back, drowning out Seonghwa’s words.  

They do eventually pull off the highway and head out towards the countryside.  His eyes go wide when he sees the sign something something private airfield and he turns to stare at Yeosang. 

“Private airfield?”

Yeosang just nods at him and squeezes his hand a little.  Seonghwa decides to keep quiet and wait.  Kim drives them through a set of security gates after stopping and speaking with the security guard and flashing something at the man.  They pull up outside a modern looking building and Seonghwa watches in a daze as Kim opens the door for them, before going round the back and taking out both their bags.  He follows them into the building and after Yeosang speaks with one of the attendants, they’re shown to a small lounge area.  Kim wishes them a good journey after bowing and assures Yeosang that he’d be picking them up again on Sunday.  Seonghwa watched him walk away. 

“Where did our bags go?” Seonghwa asks Yeosang who is pouring them each a drink from a small spread. 

“To the plane.  We’ll be in the air soon, don’t worry.”

“Kang Yeosang.” 

Yeosang looks up at him with studied innocence, complete with quirked eyebrow and dimples at the corner of his mouth.  Clear indication that he’s trying his best not to laugh.  

“What is going on? Why are we here and not at Incheon?”

“Because, Hwa.  I don’t fly commercial.  Not even first class commercial.”

“So what? You have your own plane?”  Seonghwa shouldn’t be freaking out but he feels like he will be in a minute. 

“Technically, yes.”

“Technically, what does that mean?”  Seonghwa stalks towards him, catching him by the hips and pulling him close.  “Baby, what’s going on?”

“I’m flying you to Jeju Island on my private jet, Hwa. Not my family’s private jet, but mine.”

Yeosang hands him his coffee and steps away from Seonghwa, a little reluctantly.  “Here, drink this.  It will help.”

“You have a…” Seonghwa sits down heavily.  “This is crazy, right?”

Yeosang sits down opposite him.  “Wooyoung never told you?”  Yeosang is starting at him, his eyes big.  “Jongho never mentioned it? Who my family is?"

“Jesus, Yeosangie. No one told me anything.  What are you going on about?”

“Hwa, I’m the heir to Kang Industries on my father’s side.  On my mother’s side, I am the heir to the Baek Group. I’m a chaebol twice over.”

It didn’t really sink it.  Yeosang didn’t look away from him, watching him intently. “But,” Seonghwa says and stares at him.  “You’re just so?”

“If you’re going to say, normal, I will kick your ass,” Yeosang mutters, his expression worried.  “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in."

“It’s a lot.”  Seonghwa shakes his head.  He stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets.  “It’s a whole fucking lot.  Jesus, Sangie.” 

“I need you to not freak out,” Yeosang says and why is his voice so calm? Seonghwa feels like his world view has somehow got roundhouse kicked in the face.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Seonghwa turns to look at him.  He sees the stiff back, the worried expression, the way he’s watching Seonghwa like he's bracing himself for a physical attack and suddenly Seonghwa knows.  He knows why Yeosang never told him, or any of the others.  He gets it, but it hurts and it makes him feel angry.  Then he tells himself soundly that he ought not to blame Yeosang for not sharing something this big with him.  That his anger was misplaced because obviously something had happened to Yeosang, to keep him from telling him something this big about himself.   He takes a few long moments to think about what Yeosang had said, and he thought about how it would impact them, their relationship.  And he realises, he did’t give a shit.  He didn’t care that Yeosang was possibly one of the wealthiest men in South Korea, if not this part of the world.  Because it didn’t affect what he felt for him.  And then Seonghwa walks towards him and pulls him into a hug, wrapping both arms around him and presses his face into Yeosang’s neck.

“Okay.”

Yeosang is very very still in his arms.  “Okay?”  His breath ghosts over Seonghwa’s ear making him shiver.  “Just like that? It’s okay?”

Seonghwa leans back so he can stare down into Yeosang’s face. “I know who you are, Sangie. I don’t care about any of the other stuff.  It’s none of my business. I was kinda gone on you from the second you spoke to me. So yeah.” He shrugs a little before pressing a kiss to his forehead.  “I don’t care at all.  As long as it doesn’t change what we’ve got, then whatever.”

“Oh.” Yeosang stares at him, clearly taken aback.  “That’s it?”

“I mean, it’s a shock.  And I’ll definitely make you pay for all our take-aways from now on, but yeah, that’s it, pretty thing.  I get why you didn’t tell me.”

And the relief on Yeosang's face is so big, Seonghwa wants to cry.  Someone had hurt this boy in the past and if he ever met them, he was going to fuck them up. 

They were still standing, arms wrapped around one another, when the same attendant as before comes in and smiles at them.  

“Your plane is ready, Mr. Kang, Mr, Park.  Please follow me.”

Chapter Text

The flight is short and pleasant.  They are fed well and the flight attendant had the talent to be on hand without hovering and Seonghwa loved her for her subtlety.  She clearly knew it was his first time on a private jet and made him as comfortable as she could without being obvious about it, pointing out the rest room and showed him around the galley.  Yeosang pretended to sleep, his massive headphones on, but when Seonghwa sat down next to him, he reached for him, lacing their hands together and held on tight.  

They land at another private runway.  Another black SUV waits for them on the runway, with a second one parked sideways, doors open and four armed guards waiting.  Seonghwa is grateful for his sunglasses but even so he tries not to stare as Yeosang is greeted by a driver and a guard, both bowing low to him.  The other four men watch them impassively.  They’re dressed in black suits, black ties and white dress shirts so bright they hurt Seonghwa’s eyes even with the sunglasses on. 

The guard opens the door for them, nodding to Seonghwa as he climbs in after Yeosang and slams the door shut.  Yeosang is very quiet as they pull away, the second SUV following behind.  They get to the security gate and the guard beside the driver says something into his earpiece and a third SUV pulls out from beside the guardhouse, leading the way. 

“Is this really necessary?” Seonghwa asks Yeosang, his voice a barely there whisper. 

“I don’t know.  Sometimes security around us is tighter than usual. Grandfather is probably in the process of taking over another company so he thinks it’s a good idea to have more men around and visible.”  Yeosang sounds tired, irritable by the display, and possibly a little embarrassed.  

Seonghwa isn’t sure what to say at that.  But something occurs to him then.  “So, you’re at college, without any guards?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Yeosang realises as soon as he speaks that his voice sounds dismissive  and more than a little irritable and he immediately turns to Seonghwa.  “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.  When we’re home, you can ask all the questions and I’ll answer them.”

Seonghwa gives him a quick grin and just nods.  He’s desperate to touch Yeosang but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed, not when the guard and the driver was right there.  Yeosang wasn’t out to his family and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable around people who were effectively strangers. 

He looks out the window at the scenery as it goes by. His geography of Jeju Island is not great but they drive for about forty minutes in convoy, before they pull up outside a pair of large electronic security gates.  Two guards came out to check the interior of each car and when they see Yeosang they bow politely and wave them through.  The driveway to the front of the house is long.  The gardens are huge, well kept and, Seonghwa thinks, they must employ an army of gardeners. The house itself is large and modern, more a villa.  It looks like someone scooped up a large Mediterranean villa on the shores of Lake Como and carried it halfway across the world and deposited it here.  

As they come to a halt, the driver looks at them in the rearview mirror. 

“Your grandfather is expecting you.  He’s in his study.  We’ll bring in your luggage, Mr. Kang-ssi.” 

Yeosang nods at this, his mouth thinning into a straight line as he presses his lips together.  The guard jumps out and opens the car door for them. 

Seonghwa, again, grateful for his sunglasses, does his best not to gape as he steps out of the car.  Yeosang gives him a careful look as he gets out of the car. 

“Okay?” They say simultaneously, then grinning. 

“Totally green,” Yeosang says, making Seonghwa laugh.  “With orange hovering up ahead.  Come on, let’s go, get this over with.”

Seonghwa loses his breath for a second as Yeosang starts walking, his hand naturally slipping into Seonghwa’s. For a second he looks down at his hand clasped lightly in Seonghwa’s and he shoots him a look, an eyebrow lightly raised.  Is this okay? And Seonghwa smiles, nods and then they’re off, walking side by side up marble stairs and through the huge towering double doors that stand invitingly open. 

The interior is opulently minimalist.  Lots of whites, billowing sheer curtains, marble and splashes of colour here and there.  The art they pass is all stunning, quite possibly real antiques, and Seonghwa gapes openly now, and it makes Yeosang laugh softly. 

“You’ll have a chance to check it all out.  You can talk to Grandfather’s man about them.  He buys the art for all the houses.”

“Houses?” Seonghwa says, to make sure he heard that right.  “Plural houses?”

Yeosang affects an air of louche nonchalance, hand on hip as they pause at a beautiful sculpture that looked like it came from a museum. Seonghwa can swear it’s a Rodin but he’s distracted by Yeosang. “Darling, who has only one house? Living in one place is just so very pedestrian.”

Seonghwa yanks him closer.  “Yah, don’t be a brat,” he whispers, bending Yeosang backwards a little as he leans over him.  “It doesn’t suit that pretty mouth at all.”

Yeosang stares up at him, his eyes huge, their colour intense. It’s the most they’ve touched since the weekend and Seonghwa is desperate to kiss him breathless but they straighten and separate when they hear footsteps near. 

A woman dressed formally in a black dress with a white Peter Pan collar walks towards them.  Her make-up is subtle and she has eyes only for Yeosang and when she’s close enough, she opens her arms and Yeosang reluctantly steps towards her. 

“Miss Angie,” he says and lets her hug him.  “I didn’t think you’d be here.” He moves away from her after a few seconds, but doesn’t let go of her hand.  

“I came to help with the party,” she says with a smile, but her eyes are worried.  “But I also came because I heard you’d be here.  I wanted to make sure you are doing well.”

Yeosang smiles at her and he turns and beckons Seonghwa closer.  

“Miss Angie, this is my…this is my…good friend,  Park Seonghwa.”  But the way he hesitates over calling Seonghwa his good friend is obvious.  He wanted to call him his boyfriend and Seonghwa wanted to growl low and possessively at the mere thought of it, oh my god. 

The woman opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out.  She closes her mouth again, stares at Yeosang for a moment and then at Seonghwa who stares at her mutely, his face carefully cool and calm. 

“Please, call me Seonghwa,” Seonghwa says, bowing politely.  “It is good to meet you.” He doesn’t know how to address her because he doesn’t know her relationship to Yeosang, so he leaves off any honorifics and it makes him feel uncomfortable.  

“Friend? Maybe boyfriend?” She says and whatever Yeosang expects he clearly did not expect the woman to start laughing.  She presses a hand to her mouth, her laughter loud and unaffected.  “Oh, my dear child.  You are so perfect.”  Then she turns to Seonghwa and before he can move, she’s hugging him, hard.  “I am very happy to meet you.  You are almost handsome enough for my Sangie.” Then she’s got her hands on his face and she’s holding him so that he can stare down at her and the full force of her gaze staggers him a little.  There is real depth of feeling there. “But I will tell you now, that if you hurt him, no one will ever be able to find your body.”  She pats his cheek then, possibly a bit too hard, before she turns before she takes them each by the hand and leads them further into the house.  Seonghwa shoots Yeosang a look of horror but the vague smile he gets back in return doesn’t make him feel any better. 

The place is cavernous, with a great many rooms that are beautifully furnished but look unused. Seonghwa spots a room with a piano. It overlooks a smaller garden, possibly a courtyard? He spies a fountain before he’s pulled away.  

“Your grandfather has been waiting for you all day,” Miss Angie says.  “He’s been driving us crazy.”

“He knew what time we’d be arriving,” Yeosang mutters.  “I sent him the flight information last week already. He has the tail number, he could have checked.”

“When has he ever done anything to make our lives easier?” The woman shakes her head and Seonghwa really likes her, even if she threatened his life, whilst smiling and squishing his cheeks. 

She stops before a set of double doors, before knocking and entering, rather dramatically, Seonghwa thinks.  They follow behind her and for a moment he is stunned.  

The study they’ve entered is huge.  It looks like a private members club, with high ceilings, a lazy fan rotating from the ceiling.  The floor to ceiling bookcases are lined with books and there’s art everywhere, small knick knacks, busts, a painting that Seonghwa thinks is possibly from one of Monet’s students.  

A large desk dominates the room and behind it sits Yeosang’s grandfather.  Seonghwa had expected an elderly frail man, possibly bedridden, but what greets him is a tall angular man dressed in a light suit, suitable for the weather.  He is old, but he still has a thick head of silvery grey hair, and very dark piercing eyes.  Yeosang doesn’t look a thing like his grandfather or if there was a family resemblance, Seonghwa couldn’t see it. 

He looks up when they enter and Seonghwa feels like he had somehow faded from existence because the man only has eyes for Yeosang. 

“Miss Angie,” the man said and his voice was a low gravel.  “Is this my grandson? Or is it a figment of my ailing imagination?”

Miss Angie pressed her lips together as she stands beside the desk, her hands folder before her.  

“It is indeed Yeosang, Chairman Baek.”

“I haven’t seen him in over a year, Miss Angie.  How can I be sure it’s him and not some imposter?”

Yeosang rolls his eyes and moves towards his grandfather.  “Grandfather,” he said, bowing stiffly, both hands at his side.  “It is good to see you.”

“Is it?” The Chairman of Baek Group stands and moves carefully around the desk.  “Have you grown manners in the past year? I recall you storming out of my office in anger and telling me that you’d only see me when I was dead.”  He turned to look at Miss Angie.  “Did I die? Is this why he is here?”

“Chairman,” she says, the same time Yeosang makes an impatient noise in his throat and says: “Grandfather.”

The man waves a hand as if to wave whatever either one of them wanted to say.  “I don’t care. I am allowed my foul tempers. I am old and I am tired.” He sits down in one of the comfortable leather armchairs, his gaze flicking to Seonghwa.  “And who is this?”

“Park Seonghwa, sir,” he says, bowing as formally as Yeosang had, if not more so.  “I’m a friend of Yeosang’s from college.”

“Hmm,” Baek Min-Jun frowned at him.  “And who are your people? Are you from the Gyenggi Parks?”

“No, sir.  I’m from Jinju. You won’t know my family.”

This peaks the chairman’s interest and he leans closer.  “Oh? Are they poor?” 

Grandfather,” Yeosang cut him off.  “That is incredibly rude and inappropriate.  He is a friend and our guest.  You do not get to ask him questions like that.” 

Seonghwa feels his chest swell at Yeosang’s words but he steps forward a little.  “Yeosang, it’s fine.” He doesn’t touch him, but he pushes his feelings outwards, towards Yeosang, willing him to realise that he was okay.  “I’m not from a wealthy family, Chairman Baek-ssi, but my mother made sure I grew up well.  I did not lack for anything.”

“A single parent?” Chairman Baek presses his lips together.  “She must be strong willed to have raised a son by herself.”

“She is very strong, sir.  The strongest and most talented person I know.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s an artist, like me.” 

Chairman Baek doesn’t say anything for some time before he nods.  “Interesting. What do you think of that?” 

That is the painting Seonghwa spotted the moment he walked into the room.  It was large, approximately 39 by 120 inches in size.  The canvas was framed by a beautiful antique golden frame.  With a look asking for permission from Chairman Baek he moves closer to the painting and he felt his breath stutter.  This close he could see the sureness of the brush strokes, the use of technique blending with colour to produce something truly breathtaking. 

The painting showed an impressionist view of water lilies on a pond.  It was a Monet without a doubt. No one used light that way, no one had an eye like that, not even those he influenced with his own art, or those producing fakes.  And Seonghwa knew which one it was.  It had sold in 2008 to a private collector in London.  His lecturer spent several classes talking to them about Monet, his life, the political climate he lived in and how it reflected in the art he produced.  Seonghwa could still hear the man’s voice as he spoke.

“It’s a Monet,” Seonghwa tells him, as if the Chairman doesn’t know.  “It’s one of his painting in his lilies on the pond series.  This one is called Le Bassin aux Nympheas. It was sold in London in 2008 to a private collector for a record breaking amount of money.” He turns to look at the Chairman.  “It’s beautiful.  Thank you for allowing me to look at it so closely.  It is a rare treat.”

He catches Yeosang’s eye and there is something searing in his gaze, but he snaps his eyes away the moment his grandfather speaks. 

“So you know art,” he says, dismissively as if any yokel would be able to identify a Monet from a Manet.  “What of your own art? What makes you think you are any good, that you can call yourself an artist?”

“Grandfather, please. Enough with the questions.  This isn’t an interrogation.” Yeosang is flushed and he looks genuinely annoyed.  "Please be civil to my friends."

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door and one of the guards opened the door a little so he could step into the room. 

“Sir, young Master Park is on his way. He should be here in a few hours. He’s taken the boat as scheduled.  His team just radioed in.”

The Chairman acknowledges the man with a nod and waves him out. 

“Your brother is on his way,” he says.  “Try to be civil to each other when he arrives.  We have guests tomorrow so I want to ensure that no one leaves here with the wrong impression of the family, is that clear? I will remind you of your responsibilities as my heir and to not disappoint me or the members of the board. I will not tolerate any disobedience, Yeosang.  You know what will happen if either of you step out of line.”

Yeosang doesn’t reply.  He merely jerks his chin at Seonghwa, bows briefly in the most ‘fuck you’ way Seonghwa could imagine and stalks out of the room.  Seonghwa sketches the chairman a hurried bow, shoots a confused glance at Miss Angie before he follows Yeosang out. 

Yeosang is almost running when Seonghwa catches up with him.  He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t grab his hand like he wants to, instead he just keeps up with him until they get to the large staircase that leads up to the other floors.  

A uniformed woman, Seonghwa had no idea what to call her (servant? maid?), spotted them and smiled sweetly and bowed at Yeosang. 

“Yeosang-ssi.  We prepared your usual rooms for you and your friend.  Miss Angie had chef send up some snacks too, in case you were hungry after your flight.” 

Yeosang gives her a distracted thanks and leads Seonghwa up the stairs, down several passages and then into a suite of bright and airy rooms.  Seonghwa takes a cursory glance around the room, it was bigger than his entire apartment and seemed to be a private lounge area with doors leading off it. The view was stunning. He could see the beach and sea beyond it.  He takes it all in within seconds but then he's turning back to the boy who's standing to the side, in the middle of the room, looking so deeply lost it breaks his heart. 

“Sangie,” he says.  “If you want to leave…I’m happy to catch a boat back or a plane or hike, or whatever. You don’t have to go through this shit.”

Yeosang seems to come back to him from far away and stares at him for a moment, his mind clearly on other things.  But then he gives a half-smile and a shake of his head.  

“No, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, Hwa, that you had to endure that.  He’s getting worse the older he gets. I can send you back home by plane and arrange a car to take you back to your apartment.  You really don’t have to endure this,” he gestures vaguely.  “This utter sham of a family.”

Seonghwa catches his hand in his and pulls him close, tucking Yeosang’s head beneath his chin. 

“No. If you stay, I stay. I’m made of tough stuff.” Seonghwa pressed a kiss against his bangs. “He’s not that bad.”

“God, Hwa.  I’m so sorry.  The things he said.” Yeosang was trembling against him. 

“It’s nothing. I don’t care. He can’t touch me.” Seonghwa looks down at him.  “The only opinion in this house that matters to me, is yours.”

Yeosang draws a shuddering breath.

“You’re too good for me,” he says, curling a fist into his shirt.  "You deserve better."

“Talk rubbish like that again and I will kick your ass. Besides, you did promise me dinner somewhere nice tonight, so,” Seonghwa teases him.  “So I definitely want to stay for that.”

“God, so fickle,” Yeosang mutters but he’s smiling.  He leans up, pouting a little and blinks enticingly.  “Kiss me?”

And so Seonghwa does.  The kiss starts slow, like an ember realising it has an entire forest to burn down, and the kiss gradually grows into soft moans and gasps as he completely dominates Yeosang, pushing him down onto the soft leather couch and ravages his mouth and neck and slowly goes about unbuttoning his shirt.  

“I have missed you so much,” he mutters against his skin, tongue trailing hotly over Yeosang’s nipples, making him moan.  “I had to keep myself busy all the time because all I could think of was you. Your moans, your mouth, your skin under my hands.” He spread his hands on either side of Yeosang’s middle, mapping the planes of his stomach, thumbs rubbing circles around the fading bruises he left there the previous week.  “I stood in the shower this morning and I could feel your mouth on me. I closed my eyes and touched myself and imagined it was you.”

“You…you did?”  Yeosang’s eyes were huge and his cheeks were flushed a pretty pink.  “Did you  come?”

“No.  I haven’t jerked off this whole week.” Seonghwa admitted, leaning over him.  “I did’t want to do anything without you.”

“Baby,” Yeosang says, leaning up to kiss him again and it’s wet and hot and Seonghwa gives himself over to the feeling of it, to remembering what Yeosang tasted like, and it is so good and so perfect.  

He runs a hand down between Yeosang’s legs, his thumb rubbing hard over his erection trapped in his jeans, and gets a groan from him.  His boy was so hard for him, just from kissing and Seonghwa felt like he was floating on air.  With his mouth still on Yeosang’s he pushes his hand inside his jeans and stops. 

“No underwear? Pretty thing, you’re such a little slut for me,” he mutters softly, delighted.  “But it makes things so much easier. God, I need you in my mouth.” 

He tugs one of the cushions off the sofa and settles down on it, pulling Yeosang into an upright position.  “Take your jeans off for me,” he instructs and helps Yeosang stand, used to how wobbly he gets when he’s been kissed. “Good boy, you’re so beautiful.” He rubs a finger lightly over Yeosang’s head, making him gasp.  “Baby, look at me.”  He meets Yeosang’s eyes and smiles at him, letting his tongue curl around his cock as he stares up at him.  “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you today.”

“Your mouth,” Yeosang says and it’s a soft murmur.  He looks gone.  He lifts a hand to Seonghwa’s face, cupping his jaw, thumb pressing against his lower lip.  “If I could write poetry, I’d write odes to your mouth, Hwa.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes then and messily sucks Yeosang’s thumb, making him groan, before he switches and reaches for Yeosang’s pretty cock and sucking it into his mouth.  He’s sloppy and loud and Yeosang makes no effort to stay quiet either.  It’s so fucking hot.  He pushes Yeosang back down on the couch and shuffles closer.  Yeosang sinks lower on the couch, his legs spread wide to allow Seonghwa all the space he needs and Seonghwa just takes.  He has both hands on Yeosang’s thighs and he’s holding him down as he fucks his mouth down onto Yeosang’s cock.  

Yeosang is staring down at him, down along the length of his lean torso, his eyes burning with an intensity that leaves Seonghwa breathless.  Seonghwa keeps watching him, watches every micro expression on his beautiful face, takes note how his breath hitches when Seonghwa licks like this or laps like that.  

“I’m gonna come,” Yeosang mutters, so softly it’s almost a prayer. “Hwa, baby, fuck, if you don’t stop now I’m gonna come down your throat.”

Seonghwa moans at that, completely gone, living for the hot thick cock in his mouth, for Yeosang’s soft moans, his hands tangled in Seonghwa’s hair tugging softly and then, finally, that deep slide further into his throat that Seonghwa takes and swallows around, breathing through his nose, eyelids fluttering upwards so he can see Yeosang arching above him as he spills into Seonghwa’s mouth.  

Seonghwa sucks him off, smiling around his length as Yeosang stares at him, his expression incredulous and a little shocked.  When Seonghwa pulls off he makes sure to do it with a plop and a show of licking his lips, using his thumb to catch a stray splash of cum that escaped his mouth, sucking it into his mouth. 

“Fucking hell,” Yeosang mutters, pushing a hand through his hair and leaning back against the couch as he struggles to get his breathing back under control.  “You will be the death of me.”

“What a way to go though?” Seonghwa says with a grin as he straightens, picking up the cushion and tossing it onto the couch.  He sits down next to Yeosang who looks completely blissed out.  Yeosang is still wearing his black linen button-down but Seonghwa had opened it completely and he’s not wearing anything else and he looks so utterly fucked Seonghwa feels a flash of pride. 

“You feeling better, pretty thing?” He runs his fingers through Yeosang’s hair, letting his thumb rub circles against his skull.  

“So much,” he hums, content.  “I don’t think I can move.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Seonghwa tells him, softly, kissing his jaw.  

“What about you?” Yeosang asks, rolling his head to look at Seonghwa.  “You’re still hard.”

He shrugs.  “I’m okay, just relax.  You want to nap?”

Yeosang closes his eyes and nods.  “So much. I’ve hardly had any sleep this week.”

“Me either.  Come.  Show me where the bedroom is.  Let’s nap for an hour or so.”

Yeosang stands only after Seonghwa hauls him upright, muttering and a bit grumbly but he leads Seonghwa to one of the doors off the main living room. 

“My room when I’m here,” he says, waving vaguely.  “There is another bedroom too, so if you want to pretend we’re not sleeping together, you can put your stuff in there.”

Seonghwa takes in the bedroom.  Whites and Mediterranean blues are everywhere.  Yeosang’s bed is all crisp white sheets and he glances at him where he stands at the side of the bed. 

“Do you want me to pretend we’re not sleeping together?” 

Yeosang’s eyes swing to his, all sleepiness suddenly gone.  His teeth come down on his lower lip and he worries at it for a few seconds, giving it some thought.  Then he shakes his head. 

“I don’t care what they think.  Stay here, sleep with me.”

Seonghwa walks towards him and pushes him onto the bed.  “If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with it.  Now, nap time, though.”

Yeosang nods mutely, eyes on Seonghwa as he strips methodically, keeping his boxers on, and crawls onto the bed with him.  It takes no time at all for Yeosang to curl up against him, a soft contented smile on his face. 

***

They leave the house with the driver and one guard at Miss Angie’s insistence.  Yeosang had made a reservation for dinner at a seaside restaurant earlier the week he tells Seonghwa as they sit in the back of the large SUV. 

Seonghwa couldn’t care less.  Yeosang looks gorgeous and his hands itch. He wants him on his lap, he wants his hands on Yeosang’s skin, he wants to be kissing him.  He’s sure that the guard and driver know what’s going through his mind because they keep flicking looks to the back of the car. Or maybe it’s because Yeosang looks so imminently fuckable. He’s dressed in one of his clearly many silk shirts.  The colour this time is a rich dark blue (Seonghwa loses his mind trying to name the blue, it’s a mix of pthalo blue and Prussian because it’s not quite midnight blue?) and it compliments his skin really well, making the creaminess glow.  It’s not a button down, no, and it’s more distracting for it, because it’s this loose thing with sleeves that billow a little, and the v of the neck with its ties is a little too wide and a little too low.  It’s showing off too much neck, too much of his lightly sculpted pecs and it just sits really well across his shoulders, making them look wide. He’s wearing a pair of formfitting black jeans and chunky fuck you boots that gives him an inch. 

Seonghwa tries to listen to what Yeosang is saying but there’s a fire under his skin.  It feels like he’s going to combust.  He wonders if he’s been drugged? But no, he can still move properly, he can still think even if all his thoughts are about Yeosang, kissing him, touching him, tasting him. 

Fuck.  

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Yeosang is asking him and Seonghwa takes a very long time to realise he was leaning forward, towards him a little bit too much, and sits back, dragging his eyes away from Yeosang’s plush mouth and up to his eyes.  Which don’t help.  He’s wearing make-up.  It looks like he’s crushed stardust and mixed it with the night sky and pressed it to his eyelids. His eyes, always so gorgeous, tonight look mysterious and they are so bright, and he feels so seen.

“You, uh.” Seonghwa focusses on a point behind Yeosang and swallows.  “You mentioned just spending it on the beach? But I’m happy to do whatever.”

“Hwa? Are you okay?” Yeosang looks at him worriedly.  “You look a bit flushed?”

“No, I’m totally fine.  Everything is copacetic.”

“Copacetic, huh? That’s a big word.” Yeosang’s lips quirk and Seonghwa sees that little tuck of a dimple in the corner of his mouth and he has to look away, so he does, staring forward and catching the driver’s eye in the rear view mirror.  The man directs his gaze back to the road, but Seonghwa knows the man knows he’s thinking filthy godawful thoughts about their precious Yeosang-ssi and he hates himself for it.  Jesus, he has to get a grip before he does something stupid. 

They arrive at the restaurant and Seonghwa is thankfully briefly distracted by how pretty it is.  The guard follows them in and Seonghwa feels his back hollow at that, but Yeosang seems fine with it and ignores the man.  The hostess bows at them when she spots Yeosang and without asking for his name, leads them to a table. The building juts out over the ocean and the table she takes them to is well placed to give tremendous views over the sea.  There are other diners and Seonghwa can feel their eyes on him and Yeosang as they walk past, bodyguard in tow.  Shouldn’t the man have like, scouted the place before they got here, he thinks to himself, because obviously he knows bodyguard protocol from watching too many K-dramas, thank you Ji Chang-Wook.  But it’s when he sees the man go up to another man seated at a table nearby, speak softly to him, before he takes his place, that he realises: they already had someone present in the restaurant.  They probably have someone else in the kitchen too.  The other guard leaves, but only as far as to door and he takes up position there. 

Seonghwa looks at Yeosang and he sees how pale he looks, how his mouth is pressed into a line that Seonghwa hates. It makes him look like the Yeosang he knew way back when, the boy who let no one close. 

“Hey,” he says once they’re seated and glances around the room, meeting any eyes still staring at them with a cold look of his own.  If it’s one thing Seonghwa knows how to do, it’s to blank his face and stare back at people who have no business staring at him or any of his friends.  “Sangie, I didn’t realise it would be such a big deal, coming for dinner.”

“It shouldn’t be.  He’s making it worse,” Yeosang says and his voice sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. 

“Who?”

“Grandfather, the Chairman. He’s doing this on purpose because he knows how much it fucking annoys me. The guards, the attention.  He’s flexing, reminding me who wants me to be.”

“Look, we can go? We can go somewhere you don’t have a reservation.  We can go find streetfood for all I care.” 

Yeosang shakes his head, no.  “We are sitting here and we are having fucking dinner and we are going to damn well enjoy it.  Fuck him.”  His voice is low, his words fast and he clenches his jaw and Seonghwa lets out a little breath.  

“Okay, so let’s ignore everyone.  Focus on me.” He leans forward a little until Yeosang exhales and catches his eye.  “Focus on me and how pretty I look.”