grey skies, late nights

god it’s been ages since i’ve been on here. honestly, i go on tumblr like once a month maybe, now? since most fandom type stuff seems to have moved to twitter (linked above if for some reason you’re interested in that), and i’ve subsequently become seventeen trash. 

but in news that’s a bit more pertinent, i’m back for a limited time to write more fic on a consistent basis! i’ve graduated with my master’s degree and current events have made the job market absolutely atrocious, so what better to do than write terrible fanfics about kpop idols you all know and love. unfortunately, i have come to the realization that previous requests i’ve received are probably never getting done, which i still think about and feel super guilty about from time to time :/ i feel like the scenario/reader insert thing really fell out of favor after 2015 or so and i just never got back into it again.

as per the usual, i will say not to expect a whole lot of regularity from me. i will probably drop in and out again, especially if i happen to get a job. however, i’m still kicking around fandom for the time being (...can you believe i’ve had this blog for 8 fucking years), so hopefully some of you are still interested ^^;;

Choi Seungcheol isn’t someone who’s particularly prone to anxiety. He’s pretty confident when it comes to most things, and usually doesn’t freak out much during the rare occasions where he’s unsure of something.

For the most part, Jihoon is no exception to this rule. Jihoon seems like a closed book to most people, with his prickly exterior and his penchant for silence instead of conversation.

For someone like Seungcheol, though, who’s been with him for so long, he’s more like one of those children’s picture books in simple language and big letters. Seungcheol knows Jihoon almost as well as he knows himself – he knows what makes Jihoon happy, sad, angry, and everything in between. He knows how to tell when Jihoon’s had a rough day, or when Jihoon’s feeling just a bit happier than normal, and he knows exactly what to do in each situation.

He knows that even though Jihoon tends to be blunt and rarely says nice things, his actions speak so much louder than the halfhearted insults he sends the elder’s way.

(Even though it seems like Seungcheol’s the one who’s always looking out for Jihoon, he knows that Jihoon looks after him, too, in his own Jihoon kind of way.)

It’s this knowledge that keeps Seungcheol sane for most of the day after he’d sent Jihoon that good morning text – knowing Jihoon, he’d probably felt embarrassed after Seungcheol’s confession, did something mildly stupid, and more-or-less forgot the events of the night prior. It’s only a matter of time before Jihoon texts him back.

The only thing Seungcheol’s mildly worried about when he sends the text is how long Jihoon will take to remember, or if he’ll even remember at all, although it’s not a major concern. He confessed once, and he can confess again.

It’s kind of silly, when he looks back on the whole situation. Making the decision to confess to Jihoon was probably one of the few things Jihoon-related that Seungcheol had had second thoughts about, but once he finally went through with it, all of his trepidation about the matter seemed to fly out the window.

This is, at least, what Seungcheol tells himself.

For the first four or so hours, Seungcheol isn’t concerned in the slightest. Jihoon has been a late riser since probably the beginning of time – even more so after a night of drinking. Seungcheol isn’t expecting a reply until around one in the afternoon, and even that is a conservative estimate.

1 PM comes and goes; Seungcheol busies himself with odds and ends he needs to do like laundry and buying groceries. The reminder that Jihoon hasn’t replied to his text yet is still at the back of his mind, but it’s not a constant.

When he finally gets back to his apartment, chores done, it’s past five. Seungcheol’s starting to get a little concerned, because Jihoon usually doesn’t take this long to reply, but he figures that at this point Jihoon’s awake and is nervous.

That’s fine. Jihoon can have all the time he needs.

That being said, Seungcheol will vehemently deny that he lunged for his phone at 5:53 PM the second he hears Jihoon’s text-tone.

Lee Jihoon: I guess it isn’t good morning anymore, but hi, hyung Lee Jihoon: sorry this is so late, I was thinking a lot

Seungcheol laughs. Just as he’d thought.

Choi Seungcheol: no worries jihoon-ah Choi Seungcheol: want to go out for dinner? hyung’s treat Lee Jihoon: ok

  They agree to meet at a Chinese restaurant about halfway between their apartments; Jihoon’s already there when Seungcheol arrives, wearing a familiar, three-sizes-too-large hoodie.

“You’re late, hyung,” Jihoon grumbles. I was anxious to see you.

Seungcheol just laughs. “I’m sorry, Jihoonie.” I’m here now, don’t worry.

They sit down at a table in the back, ordering their usual – two bowls of jajangmyeon and a side of tangsuyuk. After the ahjumma finishes taking their order, though, a strange sort of silence settles over the two of them.

Silence in and of itself is normal; they’ve never been the type who needed to fill the air with words just for something to do. This, however, feels different. They both know there’s a conversation that needs to be had, but neither of them quite know how to start it.

“So.” Jihoon looks down at the table, fidgeting with the sleeves of his (Seungcheol’s) jacket. “About last night.”

“Yeah?” Seungcheol replies, keeping his tone neutral. He knows that the way he responds to Jihoon at this point is crucial – he can’t push too hard, or Jihoon will shut himself away, but if he’s too laid back, Jihoon might think he doesn’t care.

“I… it took me a while to remember it all. But I think I did.”

Jihoon is briefly interrupted by the ahjumma setting the food on the table; they thank her, and the conversation halts while they mix the noodles with the sauce. Seungcheol notices that Jihoon, usually a voracious eater, hasn’t made a move to start eating.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol asks tentatively.

“Huh?” Jihoon jolts, eyes snapping up to meet Seungcheol’s.

“Are you not hungry?” Are you okay?

Jihoon shakes his head. He opens his mouth, then closes it again; Seungcheol can tell that Jihoon’s fingers are tense, curled slightly while he bites his lip. He’s back to looking at the table. I’m just nervous.

Seungcheol takes a piece of danmuji from the small dish in between them, the sour-sweet-bitterness of it spilling across his tongue as he chews. There’s no rush.

“Did you mean it?” Jihoon asks, his voice small. Do you remember it all, too?

“Yes.” The resolution in Seungcheol's voice surprises even himself. Then again, he’s always been sure of his feelings when it came to Jihoon.

Jihoon lets out a soft sigh – out of relief or surprise, Seungcheol isn’t quite sure. It might be both.

“Hyung, I…” Jihoon trails off again, poking at his noodles with his chopsticks. “I thought about it a lot, after I remembered.”

Seungcheol nods, making a noncommittal humming noise in the back of his throat.

“It’s—it’s weird.” Jihoon says, stabbing at a piece of fried pork with more force than necessary. “Not that you loving me is necessarily weird, but everything.”

He says the word ‘loving’ like he can’t really believe the word could ever be directed at him. Seungcheol, quite frankly, finds it a little baffling, but he knows how Jihoon works.

“It makes sense, but it doesn’t make sense. It’s confusing,” Jihoon grumbles, finally shoveling some of the jajangmyeon into his mouth.

Seungcheol notes that despite all of Jihoon’s griping, he has yet to get an actual denial. This is progress.

“Why?” Jihoon says, after he’s finished about half his bowl in the span of about a minute. Why do you love me?

“Do I need a reason?” Seungcheol asks, just to get a rise out of the younger. It works – Jihoon’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into a tiny scowl.

(Seungcheol finds it adorable. He’s probably broken in the head somehow.)

“It’s hard for me to explain it, myself,” Seungcheol finally says, and he knows that’s not the answer Jihoon’s looking for, but it’s the answer Jihoon’s going to get. “I’m pretty sure I’ve always loved you in some form or another.”

Jihoon is silent, returning to his food. His eyebrows are furrowed, creating a tiny dent in his forehead that Seungcheol kind of wants to smooth out with his thumb.

(Jihoon would probably beat him if he tried.)

So he waits, slurping on his own noodles while Jihoon thinks. He’s relatively confident in what he thinks Jihoon will do eventually, but the events in the interim are kind of a mystery. He’s always kind of liked that about Jihoon – while there’s a certain element of predictability to the younger, Seungcheol often manages to find himself surprised in small ways.

“What do you think about putting Hansol on the next track? The one I’ve been working on.” Jihoon finally breaks the silence.

Seungcheol takes the conversational cue for what it is. “I think his voice would go well on it, but you’d have to ask if the beat strikes something in him. You know how he is.”

Jihoon nods. “You’re right.”

   After they finish their meal and pay, Jihoon turns to start walking in the direction of his apartment, then pauses after a few steps to turn back and look expectantly at Seungcheol. Seungcheol can read the silent plea in his eyes – he chuckles, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and follows after the younger. Jihoon says nothing, but Seungcheol can see the corner of his lip twitch up in a satisfied smirk before settling back in a neutral expression.

The walk is silent, the air crisp and cool. Seungcheol can hear the faint sound of crickets chirping in the night, and the sound makes him feel wistful. For what, he doesn’t know.

All too soon, they arrive in front of Jihoon’s apartment, and Seungcheol’s about to start saying goodbye, when—

“Do you… want to come inside?”

Seungcheol’s startled – despite the longevity of his and Jihoon’s friendship, they’ve almost always ended their meetings at the door. They’ve spent time at each other’s places during the day, but unless they’d been spending the entire day in and lost track of time, they rarely stay over later at night.

That being said, Seungcheol’s never opposed to spending more time with Jihoon.

“Of course.”

Jihoon’s posture doesn’t change significantly, but Seungcheol can tell that he’s relaxed after Seungcheol’s acceptance of the invitation – his shoulders fall slightly, no longer tense.

Seungcheol follows Jihoon inside the building wordlessly, the route to Jihoon’s unit familiar enough. Jihoon punches in the passcode to his front door, looking between Seungcheol and the door briefly before giving up and deciding to enter first. The elder suppresses the urge to smile at Jihoon’s behavior, settling for taking off his shoes and taking a seat at one of the stools has by the kitchen counter.

(“Why do you have two chairs in here, Jihoon? You never have people over.”

“…”

“Huh? Jihoon, you were mumbling, I couldn’t hear you.”

“It’s not important.”

Seungcheol could’ve sworn he heard Jihoon say “It’s for when you’re here.”)

Jihoon sets a glass of water in front of the elder, then sits down on the other stool. He stares at his hands; only his fingertips peek out from the ends of the sleeves.

Seungcheol’s not going to lie – this silence is somewhat awkward. He can tell that Jihoon wants to say something, but isn’t quite sure how to get it out.

“Jihoon-ah, if you’re just gonna stare at your hands, then why am I here?” Seungcheol lets a teasing lilt slip into his voice, smiling softly at the younger. Jihoon’s head snaps up, his lips pursed in a tiny scowl.

“I don’t know,” Jihoon says. “I don’t know and I don’t like this.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Feelings, hyung. You seem to have this all figured out and I just… don’t.” Jihoon looks tired and exasperated and possibly a tiny bit disappointed in himself. Seungcheol understands – Jihoon’s always been a perfectionist, but processing emotions has never been one of his strong suits.

“I’ve had a lot longer to figure this out,” Seungcheol replies, taking a sip of his water. “I only just told you how I felt yesterday. You haven’t had much time to think about it.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “This shouldn’t be new to me. You’ve been around forever, hyung. I shouldn’t… feel like this.”

“Feel like what?”

“You sound like a therapist,” Jihoon scoffs. He’s not too far off base, in Seungcheol’s opinion – Jihoon does seem to need a bit of coaching through this whole thing – but he doesn’t want Jihoon to get annoyed.

Seungcheol shrugs. “I just want to help you figure it out, if I can.”

Jihoon lets out a soft sigh. “I don’t know, hyung.

Seungcheol reaches out and rests one of his hands over Jihoon’s softly, keeping only the faintest amount of pressure. Jihoon’s head shoots up like he’d just been electrocuted, though, eyes wide as he stares at the elder.

“Too much?” Seungcheol grins sheepishly.

“Um.” Jihoon makes no move to pull his hands away, which Seungcheol interprets to mean that he doesn’t object.

“I just feel,” Jihoon says. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Do you like the way you feel?”

“Yes and no. It’s uncomfortable.” Jihoon grimaces. “Like it’s tight in my stomach. I feel nervous.”

“It’s normal to feel nervous with something new,” Seungcheol hedges. He doesn’t want to pressure Jihoon into saying yes to anything if he really doesn’t want to, but he has a feeling that that’s not the case, here.

“It shouldn’t be new, though. Because it’s you. You’re not new,” Jihoon sighs. “You’ve been here forever. I shouldn’t feel this way around you.”

“You don’t like feeling nervous around me?” Seungcheol asks.

The glare he gets in response makes him laugh hard.

“Do you feel nervous?” Jihoon asks.

Seungcheol shrugs. “A little. Because I don’t know for sure what you want.”

Jihoon mulls this over. “Do you think I’ll stop being nervous?”

“Did you ever used to be nervous around me?”

“At first,” Jihoon says, “because I didn’t know what to expect from you. But it went away quickly.”

“Why did it go away?”

“I…” Jihoon starts to flush pink. “I felt… comfortable around you.”

There’s the opening Seungcheol needed. “I think,” Seungcheol starts, “that the nervousness could go away eventually. This is different for us, but it doesn’t have to be bad. We were comfortable with each other before, and we could be comfortable with each other in a different way.”

“Cheol, you are a pervert,” Jihoon grumbles, but there’s no bite to it.

“Hoonie,” Seungcheol whines.

“I hate you sometimes, Cheol. I hate how you always seem to know what I’m thinking before I even know what I’m thinking.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “It’s just because I know you well.”

“Get out of my head! I need to have some secrets!”

“I will try my best, Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol declares solemnly. This is a promise he absolutely does not intend to keep.

Jihoon side-eyes him, likely seeing through his bluff but choosing not to call him out on it. “Okay.”

“Okay… what?”

Jihoon sighs, exasperated. “Are you really going to make me say it, hyung?”

“Say what, Jihoon-ah?”

“You bastard,” Jihoon grumbles, kicking at the leg of Seungcheol’s chair. “We—we can—”

Seungcheol laughs, squeezing Jihoon’s hand a little in his. “Okay, Hoon. I won’t make you say it.”

Jihoon scoofs. “You weren’t going to make me say anything. I was going to offer to let you sleep over, but I guess I’m going to rescind that offer.”

Seungcheol pouts. “Hoon!”

Jihoon closes his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away. A moment later, he turns his head back just a little, eyes narrowed. “You can stay on one condition.”

“What’s your condition?”

“I want a hug.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, momentarily startled. This is probably the first time that Jihoon’s ever asked him for physical affection, but he’s certainly not going to turn it down.

He slides off his stool, stepping a little closer to Jihoon.

“You want it front or back?” Seungcheol asks. He can’t resist wiggling his eyebrows a little as he does, earning him a fist to the chest.

“Just get it over with!”

Seungcheol laughs, pulling Jihoon in so the younger’s face is buried in his chest. He swears he can feel Jihoon nuzzle into his sweatshirt, but says nothing.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks, running a hand up and down the younger’s back.

He hears an affirmative grunt from beneath Jihoon’s fluffy hair and pulls back slightly. Jihoon straightens up, a contemplative expression crossing his features.

“Slowly. We can start with this.”

Seungcheol grins. “We can take this at whatever pace you want, Jihoon.”

Jihoon nods firmly, his features softening. “Cheol.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No.”

Donghyuk flops on his stomach onto his bed, glaring at Junhoe, his (somehow) best friend of seven years and roommate. Junhoe rolls his eyes and crosses his tight-black-jean clad legs, raising an impeccably-groomed eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“No,” Donghyuk groans, burying his face in his blankets.

“Yes. I know you have a pair of leather pants from the dance club performance last month. Wear those, and one of your white v-necks.”

“Why are you telling me what to wear? You have no fashion sense.”

Junhoe raises his eyebrow higher and waves one hand in front of his body with a flourish. “No fashion sense? Have you seen me?”

“All you ever do is wear all black! That’s cheating!”

“You’re just jealous that my stunningly long legs look better in everything than yours do.”

“Well you know what about you isn’t long—”

“Aaaaaalright that’s enough out of you young man,” Junhoe cuts across, ignoring Donghyuk’s protest of who are you calling ‘young man,’ I’m older than you by two months! “Get dressed. If you don’t, I’m dragging you out of here in your tighty whities.”

“I do not wear tighty whities.”

“Okay, your tight white boxer briefs, same goddamn difference. Hurry the fuck up.”

Junhoe leaves Donghyuk’s room, probably heading to the bathroom to give himself another once-over and reassure himself that his brief encounter with Donghyuk didn’t mess up his hair. Or something.

Donghyuk sighs.

If he’s going to be honest with himself, Junhoe’s kind of right.

Donghyuk’s had a lot going on in his life recently – being a scholarship student and a self-professed overachiever, he’s been spending a lot of time on his schoolwork, and the rest of his free time is dedicated to the dance club he’s in, which doesn’t leave much time to screw around like most other students his age (such as Junhoe, who somehow manages to pull decent grades and go out at least two nights a week. But Junhoe is weird – Donghyuk has learned this many years ago.)

And, well, finding out that a crush he’d been harboring on an upperclassman for the past few months was not only completely one-sided, but that said upperclassman was dating someone else always sucked.

Donghyuk’s not antisocial; he enjoys meeting people and socializing, but he just hasn’t been able to get out. Part of him wonders if he’ll even remember how to properly interact with people who aren’t interested in pharmaceutical chemistry, but he’ll never find out if he doesn’t actually try.

So he pulls on the clothes that Junhoe told him to, topping it off with a thin bomber jacket – he doesn’t imagine he’ll need it much inside the club itself, but it can get a bit chilly at night and he doesn’t fancy freezing.

Junhoe’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with one finger tapping impatiently along his upper arm.

“Took you long enough. C’mon, let’s go.”

“But—June, my hair—”

“Your hair is going to get messed up in about five seconds.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one who spent about five hours on his—”

Junhoe rolls his eyes, simply grabbing Donghyuk by the arm and pulling him out of their apartment so they can catch the subway.

“You’ll stick with me, right?” Donghyuk asks as Junhoe primps his hair in the reflection of the subway window.

“Hm? Yeah, man. You can find me whenever, if you wanna leave.”

Of course, though, Junhoe runs off the second they get their hands stamped, Donghyuk promptly losing him amongst the crowd. He supposes that he probably went to the bar to meet up with their mutual friend Jinhyeong, who Donghyuk vaguely remembers mentioning working at this club (and he’s probably going to hit on some other poor, unsuspecting human), but Donghyuk isn’t particularly interested in pushing his way through people.

He lets himself be carried by the crowd toward the dance floor, the electronic beat grating on his ears while the bass shudders through his body. Despite himself, he finds himself moving to the music, years of dance taking over his body. He doesn’t look for any specific partner, and tries not to touch any one person too much, letting his eyes wander throughout the crowd.

Somehow, he ends up making eye contact with the DJ. He can’t see too well from the distance, but it looks to be a guy about his age, in a simple outfit of a loose white tee, a snapback, and – is he wearing his pants inside out or is that a trick of the light?

Shaking himself off, Donghyuk bobs his head experimentally to the music for a few beats before eventually letting himself go. It’s not his usual environment, and it’s surprisingly difficult to dance without rubbing up much on others, but he does his best.

The heavy beats move into a slower, smoother song – something more up Donghyuk’s alley. He lets a few body rolls out, getting into the feel of things, and just as he glances up, he sees the DJ looking rather intently in his direction. Donghyuk’s not sure if it’s actually directed at him, so he gives the perfunctory chin-nod, which, to his surprise, is returned.

Interesting. Donghyuk decides to throw all caution to the wind, maintaining eye contact while moving his body to the rhythm, throwing in a few hands-running-down-the-torso moves just for kicks. The DJ looks away just before the song ends, signaling to a surly-looking guy who takes the turntables and promptly puts on some kind of trap mess that sounds vaguely like it could have been a Disney song once upon a time.

The DJ gestures off to the side with his head, and Donghyuk follows him in that direction, where they eventually meet.

“Hey,” the DJ says, and up close, Donghyuk can see that he’s got a charming, infectious smile. “Couldn’t help but notice you down there on the dance floor.”

“Hey yourself,” Donghyuk replies, giving the DJ a once-over. His pants actually are inside-out. He’s not sure how to feel about that.

“So, like, wanna bob on me the way you did on the dance floor? My name’s Bobby, so y’know. Maybe twice, for good luck?”

Bobby, or whatever his name really is, says this with the same smile and tone on his face as if he’d really just asked Donghyuk about his plans for the weekend.

If Donghyuk were Junhoe, he’d probably scoff at the guy, give a scathing remark, and possibly inflict some sort of bodily harm before stalking off.

However, Donghyuk is not Junhoe, and thus proceeds to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Come again?”

Bobby has the decency to look a little ashamed, coughing surreptitiously into the crook of his elbow. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t the best way to start things off. I’m Bobby, you’re cute, and I’d like to buy you a drink, if you’d like me to.”

“That would be nice,” Donghyuk says. “I’m Donghyuk.”

“Nice to meet you.” The smile doesn’t fade from Bobby’s face as he motions in the direction of the bar, wedging his way through the dancers on the floor and beckoning for Donghyuk to follow. Donghyuk tries to stick as close to Bobby as he can so he doesn’t lose the DJ in the crowd.

After what seems like an endless sea of people, they finally make it to the bar – as expected, Donghyuk finds Junhoe leaning over the bar trying to chat up one of the bartenders while Jinhyeong sighs, cleaning a glass with a towel.

“Hey,” Bobby calls, grinning at the two, “I’m buying – give me two of whatever he’s getting.” He motions at Donghyuk, who clears his throat awkwardly.

“Um… I’ll have a sparkling water. With lime,” Donghyuk says stiltedly. He doesn’t drink much, and even though he’s got decent tolerance, he’d rather be sober when talking to new people.

…then again, from the way Junhoe, Bobby, Jinhyeong, and the short bartender have just turned to look at him, he may need a drink after all.

Bobby chuckles. “Two shots of tequila with lime, Jinhyeong. Thanks.”

Jinhyeong nods and obliges, setting down two small glasses and filling them up generously before garnishing the rims with a lime wedge.

Junhoe rolls his eyes. “At least someone’s gonna take the fucking stick out your ass, nerd.”

Donghyuk sighs, because he’s used to Junhoe's ribbing, but Bobby shoots Junhoe a side-eye.

“Maybe you need something up yours, kid!”

Junhoe scoffs, raising his hand to flip the DJ off. The small bartender reaches over to put his hand over Junhoe’s to prevent him from lifting the finger – Junhoe seems effectively startled by this.

Bobby barks out a laugh, nudging one of the shots towards Donghyuk. “Cheers. To a Bob and a Dong and you know what happens when those two things go together!”

Donghyuk grimaces, clinking his glass to Bobby’s and downing his shot. He probably actually needs the alcohol.

“Are you usually this smooth?” Donghyuk asks.

“Depends what you’re referring to,” Bobby replies. “My stellar pickup lines? Or what lies beneath these jeans?”

“Grooooooooooooss,” Junhoe drawls.

“Would you stop,” Donghyuk hisses, cheeks turning red. “Go pester your new friend!”

“Oh I will,” Junhoe declares, “right after his shift is over. He’s getting pestered big-time.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?” the short bartender mumbles, but he looks pleased.

Jinhyeong sighs. “Another round for you two?”

“Hit us with the Patrón, baby!” Bobby requests. Jinhyeong tops them up, and the alcohol is gone soon after.

Bobby links his fingers with Donghyuk’s, grinning as he gestures to the dance floor. “Shall we?”

The music on right now is atrocious – something about some guy named “bee eye” – but Donghyuk figures that neither of them will be paying much attention to the music.

*

For all his foolery, Bobby is a surprisingly good dancer, albeit with a very unique half-beat-late tempo.

This much, Donghyuk is able to notice as the two of them move together. For the most part, though, he’s focused on the trembling of the bass in his bones and another bone(r) that seems to keep poking at his butt.

Not that he’s complaining. Even if nothing else happens after this, Bobby’s cute enough that horrendous pickup lines notwithstanding, he’d go home with the guy.

(The alcohol in his system is maybe clouding his judgment about the pickup lines. But he’s single and horny, dammit.)

Donghyuk isn’t shy about it – running his hands over Bobby’s chest, toying with his abs, maybe a surreptitious brush or two down below. Bobby responds in kind, if a little clumsier, grabbing handfuls of Donghyuk’s butt.

“How ‘bout we take this somewhere else?” Bobby whispers during a lull in the music.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Donghyuk replies, letting Bobby take his hand again and pull them off to the side. Bobby exchanges a few words with one of the guards, who motions them towards the back.

“Where are we going?” Donghyuk asks as Bobby navigates them backstage.

Bobby declines to reply, stopping at a door and opening it.

“After you.” He gestures for Donghyuk to enter the room; he does so, the DJ following close behind.

Donghyuk takes the room in as the door clicks shut behind him.

It’s a bathroom.

A nice bathroom – probably the performers’ room, since there’s a sitting area in front of what he presumes is the entrance to the toilets proper.

But a bathroom nonetheless.

“Really?” Donghyuk quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Bobby says, already pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the sofa. Donghyuk’s pretty sure that sofa has seen many a bodily fluid and prays that someone cleans it industrially at least once a week. Bobby has really nice abs, but small nipples. He’s still hot, though. “It’s private here. And classy enough.”

“I guess.”

Bobby steps in close to Donghyuk; he can feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Take your clothes off, baby,” Bobby breathes, lips a hairsbreadth away from Donghyuk’s own.

“Take them off me,” Donghyuk challenges, pressing his lips against the DJ’s. He tastes like lime and tequila, but Donghyuk’s not really focusing on that as Bobby grasps the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up, forcing them to break the kiss. Donghyuk palms Bobby’s waist, thumbs stroking the cut of his pelvis as Bobby sighs.

“On your knees,” Bobby instructs, fingers moving to undo his jeans. Donghyuk’s hands beat him to it, reaching inside the waistband to undo the button fly.

“How the fuck,” Donghyuk grumbles, his fingers pressing gracelessly against Bobby’s hardness as he undoes the zipper, “do you normally take these pants off? How do you even get them on?”

“I have my ways.” Bobby wiggles his eyebrows and grins, yanking off his boxers and walking back to sit down on the couch. “And I said on your knees, babe.”

True to his allusion, the DJ is indeed rather smooth underneath his underwear. Donghyuk bites at his lip as he takes in the picture before him, a shiver running down his spine.

Donghyuk approaches; Bobby reaches out to hook his fingers into the waistband of Donghyuk’s pants, tugging him in closer before undoing them quickly and pushing them down.

“Me likey,” Bobby laughs, pulling Donghyuk onto his lap. Donghyuk kicks his pants off to the side somewhere so he can straddle the DJ’s legs properly, leaning in to lick at the seam of Bobby’s lips and kiss him deep.

They make out for a little, soft moans escaping their lips while Bobby palms their cocks together. Donghyuk drinks in the warmth of Bobby’s body, the softness of his lips, the way he keeps grabbing at Donghyuk’s butt. Donghyuk makes a dim mental note that he should probably hit leg day a little harder from now on.

Eventually, the DJ pulls back, pushes Donghyuk down by the shoulders.

“Put your pretty lips on me,” Bobby rasps. His dick is leaking precum, the clear liquid beading at the tip.

Donghyuk laughs. “You really want me to suck you off, don’t you.”

“Babe, I will return the favor tenfold. I just really want to feel you.”

Donghyuk settles himself down on his knees, cupping Bobby’s balls in one hand and his length in the other. He licks at the tip – there’s a vague saltiness, but no strong taste. He’s a little relieved.

Bit by bit, he takes the DJ’s cock in, licking down the shaft and suckling at the tip, glancing up to gauge his performance. Bobby’s eyes are half-lidded; he reaches down to palm the back of Donghyuk’s head.

“That’s it.”

Emboldened, Donghyuk takes about half of Bobby in, lips suctioning as he bobs his head up and down. The DJ groans, pushing Donghyuk’s head further onto his cock. Donghyuk can feel the saliva start to build up in his mouth, making the slide easier; he breathes in, out through his nose as he continues to suck, massaging the base of Bobby’s shaft with one hand. The weight is heavy on his tongue and jaw, a familiar ache beginning to set in his muscles.

All too soon (or was it really soon at all?) Bobby’s hips tense up and he gasps, flooding Donghyuk’s mouth. Donghyuk gulps, surprised more than anything else, but he manages to swallow down most of the bitter-salty liquid.

“Sorry,” Bobby says once he’s caught his breath. “Didn’t mean to bust a nut on you out of the blue like that.”

“S’fine,” Donghyuk replies. He washes his mouth out in the sink as best he can, then returns to sit on the DJ’s lap. “You’re going to return the favor, right?”

“I will give you any favor you want,” Bobby laughs, fingers pressing into the soft firmness of Donghyuk’s thighs.

“Take me back to yours.”

“Get dressed and we’re out of here.”

u up?

seungcheol’s honestly tempted to scoff when he sees the text notification on his phone. it’s almost three in the morning - he already knows who it is. hell, he already knows what he’s going to say and what’s going to happen next.

he kind of hates it.

yeah, he texts back, pushing down the feeling in the back of his mind that’s telling himself to fucking love himself already, stop doing this you moron.

i’m coming over.

seungcheol sighs, taking a quick glance around his apartment. it’s a little messy, but it’s not like his visitor’s going to care. he’s not really coming for the company.

(seungcheol kind of hopes he is, hopes he’s calling seungcheol because he’s seungcheol. but really, he doesn’t know.)

barely ten minutes have gone by before he hears a knock on the door.

“hey ji,” he says as he opens the door. the shorter man is leaning heavily against the doorframe, his oversized tee falling off his shoulders.

“hey yourself,” jihoon replies, grinning loosely. “you look good.”

seungcheol looks down at himself - he’s wearing some ratty tee he got in college and grey boxer briefs. “thanks?”

“you always look good.”

jihoon’s bolder than usual tonight. he steps through the threshold, somehow unlacing his boots and placing them neatly next to seungcheol’s shoes, then almost trips on the step up to the entryway.

“easy, now,” seungcheol sighs. “you okay?”

“better than okay.” seungcheol can smell the alcohol on his breath, the weed in his hair.

“are you crossed?”

“shh.” jihoon presses his index finger against seungcheol’s lips. jihoon’s eyes are blown glassy, and he seems to be constantly on the brink of a giggle.

seungcheol can’t do this.

“let’s get you to bed,” seungcheol suggests, hoping that the vague suggestion will be enough to get jihoon interested.

sure enough, in jihoon’s faded state, he takes it as an invitation - he tries to fight his t-shirt off with one hand while seungcheol leads him to bed in the other. seungcheol pushes one palm against jihoon’s shoulder, pressing him gently against the mattress. jihoon blinks up at him blearily, once, twice.

he’s out in about ten seconds.

seungcheol sighs, undoes jihoon’s belt and sets it off to the side of the bed and rearranges the younger’s body on the mattress. he gets a mixing bowl from the kitchen and sets it on the nightstand, hoping that jihoon won’t actually throw up but also hoping that if he does, it’ll be in the bowl and not on the floor.

it’s 50/50. sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

seungcheol turns off the light and slides into bed next to jihoon, a strange feeling creeping its way into his chest.

he brushes jihoon’s blond bangs off his forehead, not that the younger can even notice or care. he really wants to press a kiss there.

god, he’s so fond.

he doesn’t remember falling asleep, but jihoon’s gone in the morning, as is the mixing bowl.

*

it’s not new, this relationship they have.

seungcheol’s not really sure how it began, because his first impression of jihoon was that the smaller was an angry shut-in that hated people.

he wasn’t completely off-base, but what he didn’t realize that with the right amount of disinhibitors in him, jihoon was a horny party animal that seemed to have an insatiable appetite for seungcheol’s cock.

he’s heard that verbatim from the man himself.

seungcheol hadn’t minded, at first. he’d found himself drawn to the younger, found him disarmingly attractive and man did he know how to fuck.

sometimes, though, seungcheol feels like he wants something else.

he wants to talk to jihoon about something else than having sex. he wants to touch jihoon in ways that don’t involve sex. he wants to spend time with jihoon doing something else than, well, having sex.

he knows it’s a long shot - from the limited interactions he’d had with jihoon sober, he can tell that jihoon doesn’t open up to people easily. he’s actually had a handful of interesting conversations with faded jihoon, although he’s not sure how many of those the younger actually remembers once he wakes up in the morning.

seungcheol cherishes those talks.

he’s not unhappy with what they have. he likes their midnight trysts, and for some cockamamie reason he feels like it’s a far better idea for him to pick up the phone every time jihoon calls or texts him than leave jihoon with the potential alternative of hooking up with a random stranger.

he’s stupid that way. jihoon probably doesn’t care one way or another.

“You’re drunk.”

“That’s what you think.”

If the lights were any brighter, Junhoe’s about 90% certain he’d see Donghyuk’s face flushed red, see the way his eyes are just a hair unfocused (because there’s no way Donghyuk can actually be looking at him like that, right?)

Donghyuk grins, the colored lights glinting across his teeth. “I’m not drunk, June-yah. I’ve had like, two drinks? You need to catch up with me.”

He holds out the plastic red cup in his hand towards Junhoe, who looks at the liquid inside dubiously. He bends down and gives it an experimental sniff - all he can tell is it smells like no fewer than three kinds of alcohol and fruit juices.

“It’s not drugged, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Donghyuk says. “I’ve been drinking from it. And you trust me, right?”

Junhoe rolls his eyes, snatching the cup out of Donghyuk’s hand and gulping it down in one go just to get it over with. It tastes too sweet and too strong and he grimaces after he swallows, but Donghyuk looks pleased.

“See? Not so bad. Let’s get you another one, hm?”

Junhoe wonders what other sides of Donghyuk he doesn’t know as he finds himself following him to the kitchen, where he high-fives some upperclassman Junhoe vaguely recognizes from econ or something before he pours a ladle of the death drink into his cup.

“June-yah, you know Seungcheol-hyung, right?” Donghyuk leans against the counter next to who Junhoe presumes is Seungcheol.

“Koo, right?” The doe-eyed upperclassman holds out a hand to shake.

“Yeah.” Junhoe doesn’t really know what else to say. This is why he doesn’t go to parties.

“‘m Choi,” Seungcheol introduces. “Thanks for dropping by, yeah?”

“It was Donghyuk,” Junhoe replies. I’m really too sober for this, he thinks, picking up a plastic cup from the center island and pouring himself a healthy cupful of the mystery cocktail.

Seungcheol grins, nudging Donghyuk next to him playfully. “Good ol Donghyuk, eh? Little party animal he is.”

Junhoe raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No, no,” Donghyuk laughs. “I just come hang out a lot, y’know? Make friends. Networking.”

“Networking? And here I thought you actually wanted to hear me talk about my car,” Seungcheol mock-whines.

Junhoe forces out a laugh, downing some of his drink just to give his mouth something to do.

“Where’s Jihoon-hyung?” Donghyuk asks. Junhoe has no idea who Jihoon is. Donghyuk must know this Seungcheol guy pretty well.

Why does the idea of Donghyuk have friends who aren’t him bother him so much? He needs another drink.

“He’s just hiding in my room manning the playlist,” Seungcheol laughs. “Not super up for socializing tonight.”

“Maybe I should hang out with him,” Junhoe says. He’s only half joking.

“You two might get along, actually,” Seungcheol says. “You’ve both kind of got that… vibe to you.”

“Vibe?”

“He means you’re both kind of grumpy and bad with people,” Donghyuk quips, hiccuping slightly at the end of his sentence. “I mean that in the most endearing of ways, of course.”

Seungcheol grins. “Yeah, only Jihoon’s about a foot and a half shorter than Junhoe and looks like a squishy little bean. They’ve got the same kind of glare, though.”

“What’re you saying about my glare?” a voice grumbles from behind Junhoe. He turns to see a short young man with a shock of bright blonde hair, hoodie sleeves extending far past his hands.

“Just that it’s very menacing, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Sure, Cheol.”

“Get bored up there alone?” Seungcheol asks, beckoning for Jihoon to come and stand next to him. Jihoon acquiesces, dainty fingertips shaking past the sleeve cuffs to grab a bottle of coke from the open cooler.

“Not really. Just thirsty.” Jihoon unscrews the bottle and takes a swig. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Nothing really.” Seungcheol shrugs. “Just people. Have you met Junhoe? He’s a business freshman.”

Jihoon raises a hand in acknowledgement. “Hey. I’m Jihoon. You probably won’t see me much ever, I’m studying music production.”

“Why are you here, then?” Junhoe asks.

Jihoon barks out a laugh. “Fuck if I know. Guess I’m just too fond of this idiot.”

Seungcheol palms the top of Jihoon’s head, ruffling the shorter’s hair. There’s something about the casual intimacy of it that makes Junhoe’s stomach twist a little bit as his eyes slide over to a certain someone standing beside them.

Maybe he’s staring a little too intently, because Donghyuk suddenly locks eyes with him. Let’s go? he mouths, tilting his head to the side.

Junhoe nods. He’s not really sure what else he’s supposed to do here.

“Hey, Cheol-hyung,” Donghyuk says, “was great seeing you.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around campus, yeah? We should get lunch.”

“For sure.” Donghyuk bumps his fist against Seungcheol’s and gives a wave to Jihoon before he fills up his cup (again?) and walks over to Junhoe.

“Um. Yeah. See you guys. Nice to meet you.” Junhoe hates the sound of his own voice right now. Why is he so awkward?

“We should hang out sometime,” Seungcheol says. “You and me and Donghyuk-ah. Can talk classes and future plans and shit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Junhoe echoes.

Jihoon’s lips are quirked up in a smirk that unsettles Junhoe a little bit, but he figures that might just be the guy’s face.

He doesn’t have much more time to dwell on it, though, because Donghyuk’s grabbed him by the wrist and is pulling him toward the living room. The bass is stronger here, dance beats ringing in Junhoe’s ears.

“Drink some more,” Donghyuk whispers into Junhoe’s ear. He almost recoils from the suddenness of it, feels compelled to do as Donghyuk says.

“Let’s dance, June-yah,” Donghyuk says. “I’ll even ask them to put on Michael Jackson for you.”

“Please don’t,” Junhoe ekes out, but allows himself to be pulled into the midst of the crowd. Donghyuk positions himself directly in front of Junhoe, far, far closer than he ever would be usually. Junhoe could count Donghyuk’s eyelashes individually, if he really wanted to.

Not that he really wants to. It’s just that Donghyuk’s really, really close to him, and he’s never really thought about how Donghyuk’s shampoo smells but it’s kind of nice.

Donghyuk grins, head tilting slightly to the side. “Let’s have fun, June-yah.”

It takes the rest of the cup and two songs for Junhoe to hit his stride, but eventually he realizes that everyone’s too drunk and no one gives enough of a fuck to care what he does - in fact, once he starts getting into it, people start cheering for him.

Ego bolstered, Junhoe lets a devious grin sneak its way onto his face as he moves dangerously close to Donghyuk, close enough that barely a piece of paper could fit between their bodies.

“So we’re doing this?” Donghyuk taunts, leaning forward and pressing himself flush against Junhoe. Junhoe feels the air leave his lungs, replaced immediately by fire as the firm line of Donghyuk’s body moves against Junhoe’s torso.

Donghyuk’s hard. Dimly, Junhoe realizes that he is, too. When did that even happen?

Junhoe lets the music tell his body what to do, rocking against Donghyuk’s with ever-increasing pressure. He’s not sure if he’s hallucinating when he hears a soft moan in his ear, slim fingers gripping his upper arm.

One song, three songs - Junhoe doesn’t know how long they’re out there. The only thing his mind registers is the warmth of Donghyuk against him and how weirdly good all this feels before there’s a firm grasp around his wrist and once again he finds himself pulled, this time out of the crowd and down a hall and into another room - someone’s bedroom. Donghyuk shuts the door behind them once Junhoe’s cleared the frame, then pins the taller up against it with surprising force.

“Tell me you want this,” Donghyuk whispers, his palms flat against the front of Junhoe’s grey t-shirt.

A thousand thoughts flicker through Junhoe’s head all at once, but the one at the forefront of his mind says to thread his fingers through Donghyuk’s hair at the back of his head and tilt his head back and press their lips together hard.

It’s all pressure and tongues and no finesse, but it stokes the fire building in Junhoe’s chest in all the right ways. Donghyuk presses his thigh at the junction of Junhoe’s legs, rocking against Junhoe’s hardness as he fumbles with his belt.

“God damn,” Donghyuk breathes once Junhoe finally pulls his lips away. He’s finally managed to undo his belt, shimmying his too-tight jeans down his thighs as Junhoe starts to take his own pants off. Donghyuk’s thighs are doing something to his mind that he doesn’t really understand but he’s absolutely not opposed to.

“Take my shirt off,” Donghyuk commands, and Junhoe swears because of course Donghyuk’s wearing a button-up.

“Can I rip it?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Donghyuk growls, grabbing Junhoe by the front of his tee and maneuvering him down onto the mattress with strength Junhoe didn’t know the other had.

Donghyuk’s straddling Junhoe the moment the taller’s back hits the mattress, pressing their cocks against each other. It takes a herculean effort for Junhoe to pull his brain together enough to figure out how to undo buttons as a shiver of pleasure travels up his spine.

He gets about halfway through before Donghyuk gets fed up and yanks the rest of them open - Junhoe can hear at least one of the buttons hit the wall.

“What about not ripping your shirt?” Junhoe asks.

“Shut the fuck up and get to fucking me,” Donghyuk growls. Junhoe’s never really seen Donghyuk this feisty. He kind of likes it a lot.

“How--” Junhoe starts to ask, but cuts himself off as Donghyuk pushes himself off the bed to find his jeans, grumbling as he searches the pockets. His expression immediately morphs into one of glee as he pulls out two foil packets, tossing them in Junhoe’s direction.

“Huh,” Junhoe remarks.

“‘m always prepared,” Donghyuk laughs breathlessly.

“You were preparing to fuck?” Junhoe asks. To fuck who?

Donghyuk shrugs. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Junhoe doesn’t have him in it to reply, just reaches out to pull Donghyuk back on top of him. Donghyuk’s lips find his easily, tongue tracing the seam before he bites down. Junhoe moans, hands palming the curves of Donghyuk’s ass, pressing them together.

“Put those fingers to work,” Donghyuk commands, reaching for one of the packets and tearing it open. He flips himself down onto his back, legs spread, hard cock flush against his abdomen and leaking precum readily from the tip. Junhoe takes the packet from him, squeezing lube onto his fingers and tracing them around the rim of Donghyuk’s ass.

Junhoe’s no virgin - he knows what he’s doing as far as the mechanics of sex are involved, and he’s never felt the need to be particularly gentle with his partners unless they asked. But even in his altered mental state, he feels like there’s something different with Donghyuk, even as Donghyuk arches his back up to give Junhoe easier access. He moans as Junhoe’s fingers fill him, his own hand coming around to fist his own member.

“Just like that,” he breathes. “God, I knew I wanted those hands for a reason.”

Junhoe obliges, pushing in all the way to the knuckle. His own cock hangs neglected between his legs, but it’s barely on his mind - his brain consumed by Donghyuk spread out for him, begging for more, more Junhoe please fuck me.

Junhoe pulls his fingers out, grabbing a fistful of tissues from a box next to the bed before fumbling around for the condom. His hands skim over the blankets once, twice, three times before he finally finds it, ripping it own and rolling it over himself. He lets out a long sigh, the light pressure of his fingers down his length a welcome respite.

He settles himself between Donghyuk’s legs, pushing the head of his cock up against Donghyuk’s hole. Donghyuk pushes back against him, letting out the most sinful of sighs once Junhoe pushes himself inside.

“You feel so good,” Donghyuk whispers, wrapping his legs around Junhoe’s waist and pulling him in close. “So good.”

Junhoe rolls his hips, groaning at the sensation of Donghyuk’s walls around him. With the alcohol and the tension, he knows he’s not going to last long, and he feels like Donghyuk’s probably not going to, either.

He presses his lips to Donghyuk’s neck, sucking against the skin and biting down as he rocks into Donghyuk. Donghyuk pushes back against him, his ass smacking against Junhoe’s thighs loud and firm.

Donghyuk tilts his hips back, his eyes rolling back into his head as his mouth opens in a silent scream. His hips stutter - Junhoe grabs hold, pulling Donghyuk firm against him, flush to the base. A choked cry escapes Donghyuk’s throat as he cums, spurts of white dripping down his length to pool on his stomach.

Junhoe thrusts shallowly, his own orgasm building fast as Donghyuk’s body clenches around him. He bites down on Donghyuk’s shoulder as his release hits him, spilling inside the condom, his vision whiting out.

*

Junhoe doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have. Otherwise there’s no way he would have woken up.

His head pounds and his mouth tastes disgusting. He’s also got an arm thrown around someone and he’s not quite sure who.

He closes his eyes firmly, then opens them - spots dance around the edges of his vision as he gets used to the light. He spots a familiar head of tousled hair on the pillow beside him. Donghyuk’s mouth is slightly open, a hint of drool at the corner of his lips.

He looks perfect and Junhoe doesn’t know why he thinks that.

The door bangs open suddenly, startling Junhoe. Donghyuk starts beside him, bolting upright.

“Jesus, fuck,” someone’s grumbling. Junhoe has no idea who he is. “Someone really fucked in my bed?”

“Sorry,” Junhoe mumbles.

“Yeah, fuckin’ whatever, just get out of here, goddamn,” the guy grumbles. “Christ, this is why I didn’t want Cheol hosting any parties.”

Junhoe and Donghyuk manage to stumble out of bed, clothes pulled on haphazardly. Junhoe can only find one sock and it looks like Donghyuk’s going commando, but both of them shuffle out in about ten seconds and neither of them can look the guy in the eye.

“Sorry,” Junhoe says again as they leave. He gets no response.

“God,” Donghyuk mutters as they lumber down the hall, “my head hurts like a bitch.”

“Mine too.”

The rest of the place isn’t in a much better state - there’s a handful of people passed out on the sofas and the floor, some in varying stages of undress. Junhoe’s pretty sure he recognizes a couple of his classmates, but opts not to say anything in favor of following Donghyuk to the front door.

They manage to find their shoes somehow. Junhoe yanks on his black Timberlands gracelessly while Donghyuk shoves his feet into his chukkas. Despite the noise, no one else wakes up.

Junhoe opens the door after a few tries, squinting as light seeps through the cracks between the door and the frame. He and Donghyuk slip out as quietly as they can, closing the door behind them.

Once they’re in the hallway, a weird silence falls upon them. Junhoe doesn’t know what to say. To be fair, he’s not really sure if there’s a lot he’s mentally able to string together at the moment, but even if there was, he’s still pretty sure it would come out wrong.

“That was nice,” Donghyuk finally says.

“Nice,” Junhoe echoes. That’s one way to put it.

“I don’t know about you,” Donghyuk hedges, “but I wouldn’t mind doing this again. If you wanted. Minus the alcohol. If you want.”

“If I want.” Why can’t Junhoe find anything to say?

There’s a small smile on Donghyuk’s face that looks like it’s just on the verge of falling. Junhoe doesn’t want that to happen.

“Um. I want. I mean, yeah. Let’s do this again.”

Donghyuk laughs. “Let’s talk about this when our heads aren’t trying to kill us. But I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah. Monday.”

Donghyuk’s just about to turn around when a sudden urge comes over Junhoe - he can’t explain why, but he closes the distance between the two of them and presses a soft, brief kiss to Donghyuk’s forehead.

It’s over in an instant, Junhoe stepping back to where he had been. He’s not sure if that was the right thing to do.

If the smile on Donghyuk’s face is any indicator, through, then it definitely was.

Donghyuk waves, turning around and walking down the hall. The hazy, early-morning sun filters through the window, making everything look vaguely dream-like.

Junhoe’s honestly half-thinking this is all a dream as he walks down the hall in the other direction.

He just really hopes it wasn’t.

9:47 AM Choi Seungcheol: good morning

  1:36 PM Jihoon stares at the two words in the preview bubble, his head throbbing from the alcohol he’d drunk the previous night. He hasn’t gotten drunk like that in a while – he generally likes to keep a clear mind at all times, and rarely indulges in more than a couple shots of soju.

His thumb hovers over the message preview, ready to reply to his best friend’s message like he normally would, but something stops him this time.

He’s not quite sure what it is that makes him do it, but he swipes the bubble to the side instead of tapping on it, hiding the message from sight.

Staring at the bright light from his phone screen is only making his headache worse, so he puts it into sleep mode and lets it drop down to the mattress. He closes his eyes, trying to use force of will to make the headache go away (if anything, he’s probably making the problem worse).

His mouth feels like cotton and his throat feels like fire and his stomach is starting to churn unpleasantly – despite the extreme lethargy he feels throughout his entire body, he somehow manages to propel himself to his bathroom barely in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the sink. He dry-heaves for a few moments afterwards, narrow shoulders moving up and down with the force of his heavy exhalations. He hates the scent of vomit, and remembers yet another reason why he doesn’t like to drink much.

He turns on the tap, flushing the sink clean, and proceeds to brush his teeth vigorously to rid his mouth of the foul taste. After he’s done, he splashes cold water on his face to try and revive himself; when he catches a glimpse of his tired eyes in the mirror, he grimaces. He must’ve had quite a night.

The problem, though, Jihoon muses as he pads over to his tiny kitchenette and readies a package of instant microwavable rice, is that he’s still not quite sure what triggered his abnormal desire to drink, and why he feels like he’s missing something from last night.

He’s got a nagging feeling that it has something to do with Seungcheol, though, given that he was so hesitant to reply to the elder’s message. He’s never done that before.

He ponders this as he stirs his rice around with a spoon, blowing across the steaming surface before taking a bite. As he chews, his eyes wander around the kitchen, eventually landing on two soju bottles that he swears weren’t there the day before.

What happened last night?

  2:25 AM Seungcheol walks Jihoon home, Jihoon borrowing Seungcheol’s jacket as he always does after they go out late; Jihoon’s always found it a little strange – they don’t live in the same apartment complex, and they’re both men.

(They’re not dating.)

The silence is still upon them, and it makes Jihoon uneasy. He and Seungcheol have never been the types that talk nonstop, but the quiet between them has always been comfortable. He doesn’t like how this feels, not one bit, but he doesn’t know what to do about it, either.

Jihoon’s ready to punch in the access code to the front entrance and give Seungcheol a wave goodbye like he always does, but the elder reaches out and lays his palm over the keypad before he can do it.

“What’re you doing?” Jihoon asks, giving Seungcheol a vaguely dirty look. A beat later, he registers that that’s the first thing he’s said all night after they’d left the restaurant.

“Can I… do something before you go in?” Seungcheol asks, voice soft and hesitant.

This worries Jihoon. Seungcheol is never hesitant.

Jihoon nods, slightly confused; Seungcheol steps in a bit closer, far within the bubble of personal space Jihoon usually insists on maintaining. The elder slips a hand into Jihoon’s hair, giving it a soft ruffle before sliding it back to cup around the back of his head.

At this point, Jihoon would normally swat away the hand of whoever dared mess with his hair or do anything that resembled a jab at his height. He’s endured plenty of it throughout the years and generally makes it immediately known that he won’t stand for it. Seungcheol of all people should know this.

And yet, Jihoon does nothing to stop him, does nothing as Seungcheol folds him into an embrace that smells of barbecue smoke and laundry detergent; an embrace that feels warm and distinctly Seungcheol.

(Jihoon doesn’t think he’s imagining the soft press to the top of his head before Seungcheol releases his hold, but he doesn’t know how much he can trust his memory with finer details at this point.)

As if nothing ever happened, Seungcheol steps back and shoves one hand into the pocket of his jeans, holding up the other and making a small wave. “Good night, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon doesn’t catch himself in time to reply until Seungcheol’s already out of sight.

Seungcheol’s jacket is still wrapped around his shoulders.

  2:49 PM Jihoon supposes it’s fitting that he remembers the end of the night first – the memories start filling in as he gets up to toss the bottles in the recycling. He remembers Seungcheol walking him back to the apartment, which he’d always found kind of weird but never bothered to argue harder against, and remembers his confusion about Seungcheol wanting to do something different before departing.

It’s strange, though. While Seungcheol hugging him goodbye is certainly out of the ordinary, it’s nothing worth downing two bottles of soju for.

Clearly, there’s still something Jihoon’s missing.

He’s got a better idea now that he knows it has something to do with Seungcheol, but that could be a lot of things. If he’s not spending his free time alone, he’s most likely spending it with Seungcheol. And while the two of them do get along most of the time, it’s not completely uncommon for them to have some sort of argument.

Jihoon’s got a feeling that an argument wasn’t what triggered his sudden need to drink to forget, though; if that were really what happened, the first message he received from Seungcheol probably would have been some sort of apology, not just good morning.

If Jihoon’s really going to get into this, sending good morning isn’t something Seungcheol usually does. If he sends Jihoon something in the morning, it’s usually some sort of cute animal picture or weird meme, not a formal greeting.

Something else happened last night, and Jihoon still doesn’t know what.

He returns to his bed, flopping back down on top of the blankets with a loud exhale. He doesn’t like not knowing things, especially when it comes to Seungcheol. This isn’t like them at all.

Mentally, he tries to go back to the earliest relevant point in the night that he remembers. He and Seungcheol were hanging out in his studio (more accurately, Jihoon was trying to finish up the arrangement for one of his tracks and Seungcheol was alternating between offering helpful suggestions, browsing on his phone, and trying to pester the younger. But details, really.)

Sometime around midnight, Seungcheol had successfully talked Jihoon into shutting down for the night and going out to get something to eat; as per informal tradition, they made the quick walk to a barbecue restaurant close to the studio. They’d been seated quickly, barely needing to give their order since they end up there every other week and nearly all the workers recognized them by now.

The charcoal grill had been fired up and a plate of samgyupsal placed next to them, along with lettuce, pickled radish, and ssamjang. Seungcheol took the tongs, laying out the strips of pork belly on the grill while Jihoon poured them a shot of soju each.

“To us,” Seungcheol had joked, raising his glass. Jihoon had rolled his eyes, but clinked his glass to Seungcheol’s all the same.

That’s all normal.

Jihoon thinks harder, trying to remember what happened after that, but draws a blank.

With an exasperated sigh, he starts to roll over, but stops short when he feels something hard and pokey and decidedly not his blanket digging into his back. He sits up and feels around for the source of the offending feeling; it doesn’t take long for him to notice a mass of red fabric amidst his blue sheets.

He yanks it up, shaking it out to see what it is – it’s a hoodie, and despite Jihoon’s penchant for wearing oversized clothes, he knows that this isn’t his.

It’s Seungcheol’s.

This, again, isn’t out of the ordinary in and of itself. Jihoon has a bad habit of not dressing warmly enough at night, and Seungcheol tends to overheat; this combination leads to Seungcheol forcing Jihoon into wearing his jackets when they go out more often than not.

What’s unusual is that the hoodie is actually in Jihoon’s possession – he’s usually quite good about giving them back to Seungcheol before he goes back to his apartment.

He remembers Seungcheol hugging him before he left to go back to his own place, but Jihoon can’t imagine being that startled from a hug to forget giving the elder back his jacket.

There had to have been something else that happened that night, but what?

  2:07 AM “Hey, Ji-hoon,” Seungcheol says, slurring over his words a bit, “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What’s stopping you, then?” Jihoon asks, taking a sip of his cola before reaching for the last piece of samgyupsal off the grill. If he were eating with anyone else, he’d have asked the other person if they wanted it first, but Seungcheol’s always deferred the last piece of anything to Jihoon, so he’s stopped asking.

“It’s really important.” Seungcheol looks quite serious when he says this, and Jihoon can tell that despite the amount of alcohol he’s consumed, he really does seem to mean what he’s about to say.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “Go on, then. You’re acting kind of weird, Cheol-hyung.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes, takes a breath. “Jihoon, I love you.”

“You—what, now?” Jihoon sputters. He can feel his face heating up, and he’s pretty sure his ears are bright red at this point. Scratch what he said before – Seungcheol is most definitely drunk and out of his mind.

“I love you,” Seungcheol says again. “I have for a while, I think. I don’t know when it started, and I don’t really know why, either, but it’s a feeling I’ve been having. I kept wanting to say something, but I was never able to get the words out until now.”

The elder lets out a soft chuckle and follows it up with another shot. “You probably think I’m drunk and crazy—”

“Hyung, you are drunk and crazy—”

“—but I needed to say something, sometime, and I felt like I could only say it after I drank enough that my brain wouldn’t quite stop me.”

Seungcheol smiles softly, his cheeks red (from alcohol or embarrassment, Jihoon doesn’t know.) “I mean, I guess that’s it. You can forget I ever said any of this, if you want. If it were up to me, though, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

A silence falls over the table. Jihoon doesn’t know what to say, too shocked by the sudden confession.

(If Jihoon really thinks about it, though, the confession wasn’t sudden – if anything, it was overdue.)

  5:17 PM Things finally fit into place – he remembers the confession, the numb shock he’d been in for hours afterwards, the confusion that led him to dig out the soju that he keeps at the back of the fridge for emergencies and drink.

(Jihoon’s struck with a bit of an urge to drink again – he’s mortified.)

It all makes sense, though: the awkwardness between them after the confession, the overly-formal morning text. It all points to a shift in their relationship that neither of them quite yet know how to define.

All this time he’s spent with Seungcheol as…

…what were they, really?

Jihoon’s thought about this a few times before, but never too seriously. There was nothing that really described the elder’s place in his life: best friend seemed somehow inadequate, lovers was completely off base, and there was no other term Jihoon could think of that made sense.

Seungcheol was, is, (and Jihoon had thought he always would be) Seungcheol; Jihoon had always thought that things would be the same for the elder, too.

Now, though, he realizes that he was wrong. Seungcheol wanted Jihoon to be something else to him, and wanted to be something else to Jihoon.

Jihoon’s simultaneously more and less confused the more he thinks about this. He’s definitely not opposed to bringing something different into the relationship he and Seungcheol have. The way he thinks about it, there won’t really be much that changes – Seungcheol will still be his closest person.

But somehow, Jihoon feels like everything’s going to change. He’s put up so many barriers around himself, many for no real reason other than that he likes to feel protected, that he almost doesn’t know how to let someone in that deeply.

(The irony of it all, though, is that Seungcheol’s already seen almost all of Jihoon that there is to see, know almost all that there is to know, and what little left that he doesn’t Jihoon knows that he’ll accept with the same open heart that Seungcheol always has when it comes to him.)

Does Jihoon love Seungcheol?

When faced with the question directly, it seems almost preposterous.

Jihoon’s knee-jerk instinct is to say no, of course not – he and Seungcheol are just friends, after all.

Yet if Jihoon takes the time to pause, mull over the question before responding, he finds that the answer isn’t quite so simple after all.

Out of all the people he knows, he probably likes Seungcheol the best. He’s willing to do things for Seungcheol without a second thought that he’d refuse to do for others in the same breath. He knows Seungcheol almost as well as the man knows himself, and even though Jihoon would like to think otherwise, he knows that the reverse is also true. Being with Seungcheol in any capacity feels right – it feels like home, if home were a person that has no familiar relation to him.

If there’s anyone that Jihoon can see himself being in love with, it’s probably Seungcheol.

And yet the question remains: does Jihoon love Seungcheol?

  5:50 PM The sun’s just started to set across the horizon – the warm light filtering through the clouds turns the sky a thousand colors of pink and blue and gold. Jihoon looks out the window; he wonders if Seungcheol is, too.

He picks up his phone from the table and unlocks it, tapping on his messaging app.

  5:53 PM Lee Jihoon: I guess it isn’t good morning anymore, but hi, hyung Lee Jihoon: sorry this is so late, I was thinking a lot

1) Name: Em

2) Nickname: ^technically that’s a nickname i guess. but recent other nicknames have included potate and bubble

3) Zodiac Sign: cancer

4) Height: 4′11/150cm officially, but people are usually pretty surprised when i tell them that bc i usually wear kinda thick shoes

5) Orientation: straight

6) Nationality/Ethnicity: Chinese American (born and raised in California)

7) Favorite fruit: watermelon. i don’t really like fruit tbh

8) Favorite Season: summer i guess? but not when it’s too hot, i can’t take heat that well.

9) Favorite Book: House Rules and My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult

10) Favorite Flower: don’t have one

11) Favorite Scent: if i smell a food that i like it’s probably my favorite scent at that time. also my boi lmao ugh that sounds so lame

12) Favorite Color: dark purple

13) Favorite Animal: seals!!

14) Coffee/Tea/Hot Chocolate: all of the above in different ways lol. i drink coffee most often and generally only like tea if it’s milk tea (or barley tea). i like hot chocolate but don’t drink it often bc it’s usually too sweet/rich for me to have a lot of at once.

15) Average Hours of Sleep: erm... 5-7 on a school/work day i guess? given the choice i like to get around 9 though.

16) Cats/Dogs: allergic to cats and very selective with the dogs i like

17) Number of blankets I sleep with: it ranges from just a sheet to three blankets depending on the temperature

18) Dream Trip: idk if i really have a dream trip but i guess going on a vacation with my boi c:

19) Blog Created: April 2012

20) Number of Followers: it’s a bit over 1.2k for now, i’ve been losing a lot of followers due to inactivity. i do love all of you though :,,,)