Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hyeongjun is, against all odds, popular. Or maybe not; you probably have to have interest in social interactions to be considered popular, and Hyeongjun is always wishing each one to be over as soon as possible as soon as it starts. But Hyeongjun is… liked? (Can you truly like someone after just one conversation?) They probably don’t like him once he awkwardly stutters through a rejection.

How about this: people, for whatever reason, are very attracted to Hyeongjun. And since Hyeongjun keeps to himself, they take it upon themselves to approach him first to ask him out. People of any gender, often total strangers, and it stresses Hyeongjun out endlessly to tell people ‘’sorry, no’’ over and over. You’d think word may have spread that Hyeongjun is clearly not interested in dating, but maybe it’s turned into some fucked up competition instead—who will be the one Hyeongjun finally says yes to? But Hyeongjun isn’t going to say yes, and the cycle of torture just continues. 

Hyeongjun’s friends don’t help. Jooyeon is the worst, always teasing him for attracting so many people without trying. “Any new suitors today, Hyeongjun-ah?” “Our Hyeongjunnie is so popular,” “The most wanted person on campus!” “We might get attacked by his fan club!”

But it’s not just Jooyeon, whose levels of annoying are in a different league. The whole band asks him about it. And they mean well, but it’s still so frustrating constantly fielding their questions; “Do you want to invite anyone to our show this weekend?”—“Are you gonna go to the party with anyone?”—“You know, there’s a guy in my class—” “If you ever want her number, just ask—” 

Hyeongjun was running late for practice due to a particularly rough conversation today. 

There’s a girl he passes by the practice rooms often, who introduced herself as Jinha. They made small talk (or, Jinha talked at Hyeongjun and Hyeongjun sometimes nodded) as they both walked down the hallway, up the stairs and out of the building, and she was nice. But then she asks if he’s interested in getting coffee together sometime, and Hyeongjun has to hold in his sigh. 

The song and dance starts. And no matter what Hyeongjun says, Jinha will not let up. He tries to pick up his walking pace but she keeps with his speed, hurrying on his heels. “Sorry, are you seeing someone? No? Then why not just one coffee? We can do something else instead, we can see a movie or—”

A hand hooks around Hyeongjun’s arm, tugging him to a halt. Hyeongjun whips his head around, meeting Jinha’s watery sad eyes. “Not even as friends?” She asks shakily.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” Hyeongjun tells her. Trying to base a friendship off of one person settling after getting rejected for something more is problematic and likely will lead to disappointment or discomfort. Or both. Jinha sniffs, and when he tries to continue walking, her hand on his arm tightens to keep him from moving. 

Really?

“Please let go, I’m sorry but I’m going to be late—”

“Let me just give you my number!” Jinha insists. “You can text me first that way, if you need anything, or—”

Hyeongjun resists the urge to roll his eyes. This is ridiculous, why isn’t “no” ever enough? “That’s okay,” he says as gently as he can, but the irritation at the inconvenience is bubbling up into aggravation. “But. Um. Good luck with the violin, okay?” He yanks his arm out of her hold, and stalks off as fast as he can without literally running. 

By the time Hyeongjun is on the bus, his jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. It’s difficult not to get frustrated when it happens like this; sometimes the people asking him out project their feelings onto him, and it makes him feel all heavy for hurting them with rejection. But why does he have to be responsible for some stranger’s feelings? It’s hard enough trying to decipher the emotions of his friends, and hell, it has been a lifelong struggle trying to learn how to navigate his own. 

Hyeongjun smothers it all out with music, closing his eyes and putting his headphones on to drown out the cacophony of sounds, his own storming thoughts, the words of Jinha ringing in his head, the pounding of his heart from literally fleeing with his guitar Hota strapped to his back. 

Practice goes by as usual. Gunil starts to make a comment on Hyeongjun’s tardiness, but Hyeongjun just plugs in his guitar and strums a few chords loudly so Gunil realizes Hyeongjun is not in the mood, and thankfully drops it.

But then practice is coming to a close, and it comes up again. 

Jooyeon leers over Hyeongjun’s shoulder as he packs up. “You’re gonna take my place as the always-late one at this rate,” he says, a glint of hungry curiosity in his eye. “What keeps holding you up?”

Hyeongjun just shrugs. He’s trying to let it go. He’s packing up the interaction from earlier and everything attached to it into a box, locking it, and throwing it into a river. To be carried into the ocean, until it sinks to the bottom or erodes away by the waves and ceases to exist.

“He probably got confessed to again,” Jungsu says with an eye-roll, and Hyeongjun stiffens. “He can’t leave the house without catching someone’s eye.”

“Your hair is really long now,” Jooyeon points out, running a hand through his own locks that fall past his shoulders. “Almost even longer than mine. It gets people’s attention, doesn’t it?”

Hyeongjun doesn’t want attention. He just likes his hair long. Why would people expect so much from him just by the way he looks?

Gunil steps closer, a hand on his hip. “I hope you can manage your time a bit better, Hyeongjun-ah.” He chuckles a little and remarks, “Usually dating someone is a distraction, but I think at this rate you’re more distracted being single.”

Seungmin chimes in, “Are you sure you don’t want—”

“It’s fine! I am dating someone,” Hyeongjun snaps suddenly. 

The studio goes dead silent. Hyeongjun almost smacks a hand over his mouth in shock at his own words, but instead busies himself coiling up the chords for his amp, avoiding their stares.

“What?” Jooyeon almost shouts in disbelief.

Jungsu’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline in surprise. “Who?”

Hyeongjun is starting to sweat. He could say it’s someone none of them know, maybe he finally accepted an offer from a stranger—but then he would have to find someone, he can’t just never see them and pretend it’s coincidence. And then that’s more interactions with strangers and their feelings, which doesn’t fix his problem.

As if reading Hyeongjun’s thoughts, Jooyeon mutters to Seungmin, “It’s gotta be someone we know, right?” Because unfortunately, they know of Hyeongjun’s antisocial tendencies, anxiety around strangers, and lack of friends from his hometown. 

The door to the studio creaks open, and a familiar head of blonde hair peeks through. Hyeongjun’s eyes dart to him and before he knows what he’s saying, he blurts out, “It’s Jiseok.”

“WHAT?” Jooyeon screeches, so loudly it fills the small studio space, and now Hyeongjun is scurrying over to Jiseok at the doorway, engulfed in panic. The band explodes into dumbfounded chattering behind him, but Hyeongjun is zeroed in on the short blonde at the door. 

Jiseok’s curious little smile grows into a full grin as Hyeongjun hurries over to him. “Hi, Hyeongj—”

Hyeongjun wraps an arm around him in a half-hug, and whispers in a rush to Jiseok’s ear, “I told them we’re dating so play along, okay?”

Jiseok jerks his head back, eyes so wide they could pop out of his skull. “What?” he hisses, but their time is up. As Jooyeon practically runs at them, Hyeongjun unravels his arms from around Jiseok’s shoulders. Jiseok’s arm stays between Hyeongjun’s shoulderblades; already, his touchiness is coming in handy.

“What the hell, Jiseok?” Jooyeon is reeling, a total mess as he stares at his best friend with a mix of bewilderment and betrayal. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Um, Hyeongjunie…” Jiseok glances at Hyeongjun, leaning into him a little more. Hyeongjun figures he should acknowledge Jiseok, but he can’t meet the other’s eyes. He settles for looking just past Jiseok’s ear. Jiseok comes up with, “...wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet. I was respecting his wishes.” Hyeongjun lets out an exhale. That was a good save.

“How long, then?” Jungsu asks. 

Hyeongjun does look at Jiseok’s face now, searching for answers, hints, anything. The lost look in Jiseok’s eyes tells Hyeongjun he has to take this one. “Just a week,” Hyeongjun answers.

Jooyeon fists his hands into his hair like he’s about to have a fit. “A whole week?!” 

“Hey, you know Hyeongjun isn’t that comfortable with this kind of stuff,” Seungmin argues, crossing his arms.

Jiseok adds, “And you know now, so it’s okay! I won’t keep anything from you again!” He’s acting really well. Hyeongjun can feel how tense he is with their sides touching, but it doesn’t show at all on his face or in his voice.

“He’s right,” Jungsu says, putting a hand on Jooyeon’s shoulder like a parent trying to reel in their hysterical child. “It’s fine to keep it quiet, especially when the relationship is new. Hyeongjun-ah is more of a private person in general.”

Hyeongjun nods. “Yeah, so. Thanks for respecting my privacy.” The comment is a a bit backhanded, but Hyeongjun is on edge today. Sue him for getting a little petty.

“And was this… before Jiseok auditioned for the rhythm guitarist position last weekend, or after?” Gunil raises his eyebrows, and Hyeongjun freezes. The attention isn’t off them yet, as much as Hyeongjun is itching to escape. 

“After,” Hyeongjun says, and as the lies produce themselves in his mouth, his voice gets quieter and quieter. God, this is embarrassing. “Seeing him play was actually… what made me realize my feelings…”

Jungsu’s mouth drops open a little, and Jooyeon almost squeals. Jiseok’s hand jumps up from his upper back, thumb rubbing into Hyeongjun’s knobby shoulder as he continues, “Yeah, it was after you offered me the position!”

“Isn’t this a conflict of interest?” Gunil ponders, rubbing his chin.

“You’re literally dating Jungsu!” Jiseok yells incredulously.

Jungsu points out, “Jooyeon’s known Jiseok since high school, wouldn’t that already be favoritism?” 

“How can it be favoritism if he’s the only one we asked to audition?” Seungmin adds.

Jooyeon is pouting again. “Because I said we don’t need to audition anyone else, and I was right! He’s perfect!”

Hyeongjun can’t keep his sigh quiet this time. “Can I go now? Are we done with the interrogation?” When no one answers, he leaves Jiseok’s side to retrieve his things.

The others still hover by the door, no doubt tittering excitedly with something to gossip about, but Hyeongjun easily blocks them out. Setting Hota into its case and latching the locks, he tries not to feed the buzzing anxious thoughts crowding his head.

When he stands up, Jiseok is in front of him holding out Hyeongjun’s bag. A glance at the empty floor shows the pedals and cords are all packed away. 

“Thanks,” Hyeongjun says. Jiseok has really taken to this boyfriend role quickly. It’d be a lie to say Hyeongjun isn’t impressed.

They both head to the door where the rest of the band have congregated. Hyeongjun focuses on his feet, all too aware of the scrutinizing eyes on him and Jiseok. 

“Jiseok-ah,” Gunil says, holding out a folder. “This is for you to get practicing, and you can join us next week. Sound good?”

Jiseok straightens up, tucks the folder under his arm and salutes. “Yes, sir!”

Seungmin groans. “Oh, don’t do that, he’ll start to think we respect his leadership.” Gunil, unaffected by Seungmin’s jab, salutes Jiseok back. 

Once everyone is packed and up and leaving the studio, they’re about to part ways when Jungsu stops Jiseok by the shoulder. “Jiseok-ah, a good boyfriend should walk his partner home!”

Jiseok glances between Hyeongjun and Seungmin—headed to the bus stop that takes them toward their apartments on south campus—and Jooyeon, who is headed to the subway where he and Jiseok’s building is.

Hyeongjun tries to wave them off, insisting, “He lives in the other direction, it not a big deal to—”

But Jiseok is already leaving to stand by his side, a hand brushing against Hyeongjun’s. Gently, Jiseok’s fingers snake between his own, giving a gentle squeeze. 

Touch, especially without seeing it coming, can sometimes make Hyeongjun uneasy. He squeezes back too hard due to the nerves swirling in his stomach, but Jiseok doesn’t even react to Hyeongjun cutting off his circulation.

When they do all say their goodbyes and part ways, Hyeongjun can’t think about anything but their hands. Is his palm sweaty? He’s loosened his grip, but now is he not holding back firmly enough? Does Jiseok hate him for this whole thing? 

Seungmin asks Jiseok about where he lives; apparently most of his classes are on the east side of campus, so his place is near there, and there’s a subway stop that’s closer to his place on another line. Hyeongjun does his best to listen, to be interested in his new fake boyfriend, but it sounds like their voices are coming down a tunnel.

While trying to combat the flurry of feelings stirring up inside his chest, Hyeongjun’s eyes find the folder in Jiseok’s other hand. “What did Gunil-hyung give you?”Jiseok waves it around in the air triumphantly. “Sheet music! So I can catch up and get ready to join practice!”

“If you’re free this weekend, you can come over and we’ll go over it together,” Hyeongjun suggests. 

Jiseok’s mouth opens, then closes, like he’s not sure what to say. But then he smiles, eyes brightening. “Yeah, sure! I’ll text you!”

When they arrive at the bus stop, Jiseok is still holding his hand.

Sometimes, even if Hyeongjun is with other people, he’ll still be approached by other people who want to confess or ask him on a date. But with Jiseok at his flank, locked together by their hands, Hyeongjun feels… protected. Like Jiseok acts as a shield.

“Are you okay to get home?” Seungmin asks. “It’s nice of you to walk with us of course, but the bus doesn’t go by east campus…”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Jiseok assures them. “It’s just an extra couple of minutes to walk to the next subway station from here. No biggie.”

The bus approaches the curb, and Hyeongjun finally lets his hand slip from Jiseok’s. They both wave him goodbye, and luckily the bus isn’t too crowded; Seungmin and Hyeongjun are able to squeeze in the back corner, secluded so Hyeongjun feels a little safer.

“So Jiseok finally wore you down, huh?” Seungmin says after a minute. 

Jiseok has asked Hyeongjun to hang out before. Quite a lot. He used to stop by band practice sometimes, since he and Jooyeon stick together like glue, and the first time he did he had asked for Hyeongjun’s number after enthusiastically complimenting his guitar skills. And Jiseok used to text Hyeongjun almost once a week, but Hyeongjun just kind of ignored the messages. Jiseok is nice enough, but it was overwhelming, so Hyeongjun just avoided it. Classic Hyeongjun coping mechanism.

Now that he’s joining the band, Hyeongjun knows avoidance won’t likely be an option.

“Uh, yeah,” Hyeongjun replies, staring at the bus map plastered above the seats.

“And you didn’t just say yes because you felt like you had to, right?”

Hyeongjun shakes his head. “I know how to say no, you know that.”

“I know!” Seungmin touches his palm to his chest in earnest. “But he is going to be in the band now, and… I know sometimes you feel pressure to be a certain way, even if you act like that doesn’t affect you.”

Damn. Of course Seungmin is right. Out of everyone in the band, Seungmin knows him the best. But Hyeongjun looks to Seungmin’s face to assure him, “We’re dating because I want us to be, and Jiseok wants it too. Promise.”

Seungmin nods. “Okay.” Then he lets out a breath. “Two couples in the band now… surely this won’t become a mess.”

Hyeongjun texts Jiseok, suddenly thankful Gunil had insisted he finally save Jiseok’s contact when Jiseok was officially offered the rhythm guitar position.

han hyeoungjun

SOS!!

i’m so sorry..

He doesn’t even close the messaging app before he gets a reply notification.

kwak jiseok

what the fuck man

also..

were u srs about this weekend?.?

han hyeongjun

i can explainㅠㅠ

and yeah sure

how’s saturday?

kwak jiseok

👍

sounds like a plan boyfieee

ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

han hyeongjun

please do not say that ever again

○ ○ ○

The first time Hyeongjun met Jiseok, it activated their fight or flight response. Like a wild animal, their survival instinct setting off alarms in their head.

He was just so… opposite. Like he and Hyeongjun had walked off entirely different planets. And Hyeongjun already has a hard enough time socially, struggling to relate to other people and make conversation, so facing a person they have nothing in common with? Nightmare. The forecast is an awkward autistic person fighting off a meltdown as they feel so alien it makes them want to tear their skin off.

But before Hyeongjun knew what’s happening, the time to heed their self preservation had passed, and Jiseok is being introduced at Jooyeon’s high school graduation party. Technically, the official parties with the families had already happened, and this was a casual celebration with no parents, some alcohol, loud music, and friends of friends of friends.

And it doesn’t exactly go well. Like almost all first meetings Hyeongjun has to suffer through, every sound that leaves Hyeongjun is followed by embarrassment so all-consuming it could convince them to never speak again, and then every word Hyeongjun doesn’t say is followed by the urge to slam their head through a brick wall because you’re being too quiet you’re being weird they think you’re being weird you have to say something—

But Jiseok didn’t look at him funny. It was a bit uncomfortable during the lapses of conversation, when Jiseok starts tapping his fingers on the side of his drink cup, but he didn’t throw Hyeongjun any expectant glances. He just surveyed the room or stared really hard at a spot on the wall, and let Hyeongjun just be silent. Which is a relief Hyeongjun doesn’t often feel.

The small talk was torturous as usual, words Hyeongjun doesn’t know whether to take seriously, inqueries that always feel like a trick question with no right answer. But for once, it actually lead to something that would pique Hyeongjun’s interest.

“You went to high school with Jooyeon, right?” Hyeongjun asked.

“Yeah!” Jiseok’s eyes were so big, he always looked a little surprised. “We actually met through our school band. Jooyeonie was so funny, playing jazz bass when he was practically bouncing out of his seat to play something more rock and roll.”

“What did you play?”

“I play guitar, but I tried out a little bit of percussion too! I had to fill in when our main percussionist broke his hand, I think he fell down the stairs or something. But I’ve been playing guitar since middle school, and I’d play with Jooyeonie sometimes after band rehearsal too.”

“Oh, I play guitar,” Hyeongjun said. 

“I know!” Jiseok replied, but his smile dropped right after he says it. He cleared his throat, coughed a little, and then said in a much steadier and lower tone, “I mean, Jooyeon’s told me all about you and the band you guys are putting together. Sounds really cool!”

“Yeah, it’s exciting to meet others who like rock and metal and punk and all that,” Hyeongjun told them. “It’s surprisingly rare.”

“I know, right? That’s what brought Jooyeon and I together.”

“Me too,” Hyeongjun said, mirroring Jiseok’s slight smile. “That, and he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Jiseok said thoughtfully, his smile fond. And just at that moment, someone Hyeongjun didn’t recognize materialized beside them, telling Jiseok there’s someone he has to meet and pulling him away by the elbow. Jiseok twisted over his shoulder to wave awkwardly to Hyeongjun, and Hyeongjun gave a small wave back.

And the small moment of shared experience is over. Jiseok didn’t stay put once he’s introduced to someone new; he fluttered about the room like a fairy, person to person, making these crazy expressions with wide eyes as he talked animatedly with them. It’s exaggerated but somehow still seems genuine. He reacted like every person in the room just told him the most amazing thing he’s ever heard. People kept laughing, but it’s not the uncomfortable chuckle or half-scoff-laugh people do around Hyeongjun all the time, it’s something joyous and welcoming—laughing with him, not at him. How the hell does he do it?

How could Hyeongjun ever be friends with someone like that?

Hyeongjun didn’t see Jiseok for a while after that. When they practiced over the summer Jooyeon would always bring up “Jiseokie,” so his name haunted their rehearsals even before he started showing up in person. Jooyean was very eager for Jiseok to return from abroad, where he ended up apparently extending his studies for the first semester.

The  Jiseok was starting at their university, and Hyeongjun only saw him when he stopped by after practice to pick Jooyeon up so they play video games or giggle at each other do whatever it is they do together. Sometimes he would come at the start and ask to sit in. He was always on the edges, but not even truly as an outsider; he loved to give his input when they were stuck, lighting up like a firefly when Gunil finally asked, “What do you think of this part, Jiseok-ah?”

And Jiseok would often hurl compliments at Hyeongjun about his playing, but Hyeongjun never learned how to handle praise, so they’d just duck their head with a quiet “thank you,” hoping the moment of attention would pass quickly. And it usually did.

○ ○ ○

“I hope you know I don’t put out on the first date, so no funny business!”

It’s weird seeing Jiseok in Hyeongjun’s apartment. Hyeongjun doesn’t have people over often, and it’s been a long time since there was a new person in this space. But here he is, in Hyeongjun’s doorway, setting down his guitar case.

“I never said this was a date,” Hyeongjun says.

“Well, depends what you count as a date, I guess.” Jiseok shuffles out of his sneakers and pads into the room. 

It’s a modest apartment, but it’s still better than the dorm they were in first year. It has a little bit of a living space to fit a small couch and a kitchen area set up behind it. Jiseok’s eyes scan the room and for some reason Hyeongjun is holding their breath, suddenly worried about the decorations—is it too bare, or are the few posters and trinkets Hyeongjun has displayed cringey? But Jiseok regards the space with nothing but curiosity. 

Hyeongjun said they would give Jiseok an explanation about suddenly springing boyfriend status onto him, but that’s the last thing they want to do. And they did make plans under the guise of something else, something Hyeongjun is always ready to do, itching to do every moment they’re not, so it’s easy to decide what to bring up first.

“Wanna get started on the sheet music?”

They both settle on the living room floor so Jiseok can bring in his guitar case, and they spread out all the sheet music to organize by song. Hyeongjun gets their own acoustic from their room, but it’s been a little while since it’s been used so it needs a tune up. 

Jiseok’s audition for them was really good. He had arranged an Ed Sheeran song to be more rock, even adding in his own guitar solo. Hyeongjun remembers their first conversation back at Jooyeon’s graduation party, where Jiseok mentioned being in the school band with Jooyeon, and there’s a question that’s come up in Hyeongjun’s mind before that they keep wondering about.

“Why weren’t you in the band from the beginning?” Hyeongjun asks. They place the acoustic on the couch for now, sitting on the carpeted floor with Jiseok.  “Jooyeon is so attached to you, but he didn’t even try to get you the second guitar spot until this month.”

“I wasn’t really around,” Jiseok says with a little frown, but it fades as he continues talking. It’s like his features just don’t accommodate anything too negative. “I did a summer program that ended up offering me an internship, so I delayed starting university by a semester. And I’d never ask Jooyeon to put his music—your music—on pause for me. That’d probably be impossible anyways.”

“Were you doing a program for music?” 

“Computer science, actually! And I’m trying to double major in physics, but it might just end up being a minor.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” 

Jiseok rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Nah, you can say it’s nerdy.”

“No, I do think it’s cool. I don’t know anything about it, but that’s kind of what makes it cool? It’s like a big mystery to me.”

Jiseok giggles, a magical and adorable giggle, and something flutters in Hyeongjun’s chest.  “I’ll be sure not to tell you about it, then. You know, to keep up my cool guy image.”

Hyeongjun pulls their legs up to their chest, resting their chin on their knees. “No, you can tell me. I didn’t mean I don’t want to know…”

“Don’t feel bad,” Jiseok says. Hyeongjun can’t just change their feelings on a switch like that, but appreciates that Jiseok cares about Hyeongjun enough to say it as if they could.

A quiet settles around them, only the sounds of Jiseok flipping through the sheet music and Hyeongjun tuning their guitar filling the air. Remarkably, Jiseok hasn’t been interrogating them, so Hyeongjun’s thoughts just float about. It keeps returning to one thought, though, and with the empty space, Hyeongjun ends up saying it out loud.

“You’ve asked me to hang out a couple of times before,” Hyeongjun says. Jiseok perks up at Hyeongjun’s words, so Hyeongjun lifts their head from the guitar too, pushing their hair out of their eyes. Looking at Jiseok would be a bit too much right now, but this is probably a close enough gesture. “But then you stopped after a while. Why?”

“It’s not necessarily that I lost interest in spending time with you or getting to know you,” Jiseok says, his tone surprisingly serious now. “Jooyeon talks about you all the time, and you seem really great! It’s just… I’m not as dumb as I look. I mean, I can take a hint.”

“You don’t look dumb.”

“What about now?” Jiseok lets his eyes glaze over, a silly half-smile hanging off his lips.

“Hmm…” Hyeongjun leans back a bit so their shoulders rest against the couch, searching for the right word. “That’s more… vacant.”

Then Jiseok crosses his eyes, and the sputter of laughter escapes Hyeongjun before they can think to stop it.

In the moment, Hyeongjun becomes aware of some feeling brewing inside their chest, one they feel with their close friends. When Jungsu is shouting playfully or when Jooyeon pulls a crazy face while playing; when Gunil is explaining something he finds important in excruciating depth or when Seungmin makes a cute expression while snapping a photo. It’s a… fondness. 

And it’s quickly followed by a pang of guilt. Hyeongjun chews on their lower lip as the courage to share their thoughts grows. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was… disinterested.”

Jiseok stops laughing, yet the smile stays in his eyes. “But you weren’t interested. And that’s okay!” He rocks forward from where he sits on the carpet to put a hand on Hyeongjun’s knee—Hyeongjun almost flinches, didn’t see the sudden movement coming, and is suddenly very self-conscious about if their knee feels too bony. “No hard feelings, I promise.”

Sometimes people say “promise” and don’t really mean it. Hyeongjun doesn’t use the word for that very reason; they haven’t been able to determine what would constitute as a good time to make a promise, or how to know what counts. But the way Jiseok is looking at him makes Hyeongjun believe he is making an honest promise. Or at least, one Jiseok thinks is honest, as of now. 

“People say I can come off cold, or mean,” Hyeongjun says slowly. Why are they telling Jiseok all this? So candidly, so openly? Maybe it’s the way Jiseok is looking at them. The way Jiseok is sharing himself so openly. “I don’t mean to. A lot of the time, even if I’m having fun, I don’t really show it. I don’t know how to express a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening on the inside.”

Jiseok hasn’t moved away. His hand is still on their knee, the touch light but steady. And he’s still looking at Hyeongjun with that look, all earnest and soft.

“It’s not that I don’t want to get to know you either. It’s just…” Now, when Hyeongjun sighs, Jiseok’s hand leaves. Hyeongjun stares at their knee where it was, the shape of it in their jeans suddenly foreign looking. Jiseok settles back on the carpet, not right up in front of them like when he touched their knee, but closer than he was sitting before. “Most people that try to approach me want more from me.”

Jiseok tilts his head to the side, awfully similar to a curious puppy. “More?”

“They want me to date them or they want to get in my pants.”

Jiseok snorts. When Hyeongjun’s eyes lift to meet his, he very quickly hides his mouth behind his hand, apologetic. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, it was just… how you said it.”

This happens sometimes. Just the way Hyeongjun talks seems to amuse people, but Hyeongjun doesn’t know how else they were supposed to say it. They’ve learned to not let it bother them, but the cushion of Jiseok’s words and honestly just everything about his behavior makes Hyeongjun not even need to remind themself not to care. 

Jiseok asks, “Does this have to do with why you suddenly needed a fake boyfriend today?”

Hyeongjun nods, running a hand through their hair and fiddling with the strands that tangle in their fingers. “It’s hard enough going in public alone. Strangers take it as an opportunity to approach me with their requests. But when I get questions about it from the guys in the band, it’s even worse. I never know how to make them understand…” 

And this is where it gets complicated, and Hyeongjun’s words start churning around inside of their mouth rather than coming out. But Jiseok waits, and soon enough, Hyeongjun just talks even if they’re not sure about how to say it.

“It’s not that I never want to date anyone ever, I think I’m just… really particular about who I’m interested in. And…” Hyeongjun doesn’t usually tell anyone this unless it’s relevant, which was pretty much only at the doctor or when they used to see a therapist or when Seungmin asked, but for some reason Hyeongjun is saying it now, to Jiseok. “I’m autistic, and I know the guys mean well but they just don’t get it sometimes. When I have been interested in people, even platonically, I just freeze up. I’m pretty much a failure at most social interactions… it’s a miracle I have any friends, I used to be so shy and anxious around other people. So, yeah, I’d like to be in a relationship someday, but I just don’t see it happening for me, and… yeah.”

Jiseok’s expression has gone serious again, a small furrow in his brow. Now that all the words are out, Hyeongjun’s stomach twists. What the hell is Jiseok supposed to say to that?

Apparently, “You’re not a failure. And you’re not doomed to never have a relationship because of that! It was, like, twenty minutes, but I liked being your fake boyfriend just fine.”

Hyeongjun’s eyes wander to the corner of the wall where it meets the ceiling, regretting ever saying anything. Jiseok has no idea what he’s talking about.

Jiseok hasn’t given up, though. He scoots forward on the rug, closer to Hyeongjun yet again, his shins where he’s sitting criss-cross practically resting on Hyeongjun’s ankles. “What if I keep being your fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah, a relationship built on lies will definitely help me believe I’m capable of dating.”

“Listen,” Jiseok says, and Hyeongjun is startled out of their commitment to avoiding Jiseok’s eyes to stare at the walls by Jiseok’s hands grabbing onto their shoulders. Hyeongjun’s attention snaps back, and Jiseok’s gaze is serious and focused in a way that feels like a challenge as much as it does an offer to help. “It’s not a lie that I want to be your friend, Hyeongjun. It’ll help keep the guys in the band off your back. And you can realize dating isn’t all that hard, even for you!”

Well, when he lays it all out like that… there doesn’t seem to be any downside. “Have you ever been in a relationship?” Hyeongjun asks.

Jiseok’s confidence wavers a little, his mouth dropping open like he’s just been caught. He clamps it shut, eyes darting away. “Um, no, not—not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

It’s Jiseok’s turn to sigh now. He drops his hands from Hyeongjun shoulders, who is all too glad for Jiseok’s intensity level to lower. Jiseok moves to sit beside Hyeongjun now, their shoulders pressed together against the couch.

“I’ve had crushes before, um, and I slow-danced with a girl once in high school… I’ve kissed a couple of people before, fooled around a little just for fun or for experimentation’s sake. But I’ve never had the boyfriend label, a committed relationship status, or gone on dates or anything like that. I haven’t been in love.”

Jiseok’s voice almost has a tinge of sadness to it, a sound that makes Hyeongjun retroactively feel bad for ignoring his text messages.

“How are you supposed to show me how to date if you’ve never done it yourself?”

“It can’t be too difficult, right?”

A sour feeling descends on Hyeongjun like a wet blanket dropped on their head. People find a lot of things that feel impossible to Hyeongjun super simple, and Hyeongjun is left feeling lost and stupid. It’s like that line in Legally Blonde— “What, like it’s hard?” —but it’s not Elle Woods getting revenge on her dickwad of an ex-boyfriend, it’s everyone in the world making Hyeongjun feel bad without even meaning to. And it’s not getting into Harvard law school, it’s simple things like going to a party or giving a presentation. It’s the feeling that everyone knows something Hyeongjun doesn’t. How they’re always an outsider, even when people are being kind or trying to help them.

Jiseok speaks again, bringing Hyeongjun’s spiral of yucky feelings to a screeching halt. “I mean, I’ve made friends, haven’t I? And so have you! How different are dates beyond hanging out with someone you like normally? We just need to sprinkle in a little romance. It’s kind of the same in practice, it’s just the feelings that are different.”

And it sounds so easy when Jiseok lays it out that way, a possibility within reach. Hyeongjun hums thoughtfully. “Hm. That and… certain activities.”

Jiseok is silent. 

When Hyeongjun turns to look at him, Jiseok is bright red in the face and looking about as comfortable as someone who’s about to be set on fire. He does seem like he could burst into flames at any second. A nervous chuckle, a sound unlike any other laugh of Jiseok’s they’ve heard so far, sputters out of him like a hose with a leak. “Hah, yeah… that.”

“We don’t have to have sex to practice dating, Jiseok.”

Jiseok visibly relaxes, deflates with relief, though his ears and cheeks remain stained pink. “Right,” he exhales, like he’s talking to himself.

“But being my fake boyfriend isn’t such a bad idea.” Hyeongjun considers the prospect. The band won’t even ask for details or to meet him in some embarrassing interrogation set-up because they already know Jiseok. No weird over-protective bullshit from them, no stranger to get involved with, and very little extra work on their part to make appearances together. As the two guitarists, it’s likely Hyeongjun and Jiseok will be spending a lot more time with each other anyways. “It’s convenient, and I think I’d be less anxious about the idea of relationships if I had someone I could trust to practice it all with… so I know what I’m doing when I want the real thing.”

But if Hyeongjun is in a fake relationship with Jiseok, that means Jiseok is also in a fake relationship with Hyeongjun. “It wouldn’t allow you to date anyone else for real, though. I think it would get too messy for you to try and date me publicly, date someone else privately, and trust them not to complicate things.”

Jiseok shrugs. “Don’t worry about that. I get pretty swamped with homework trying to double major, and now doing the band at the same time? I’m doubtful something perfect will fall in my lap. I’m not looking for extra commitments right now—well, not ones that are real, and thus would require a lot more effort.”

They sit next to each other for a minute, staring at the walls. Yeah, Hyeongjun could do this. Jiseok is nice, both in personality and looks. He already pointed out the pros: getting more comfortable with romance, having protection from strangers in public, and no more questions about their love life. The cons seem to be few: acting outside of their comfort zone, engage in mildly believable PDA around the band and in public. The pros outweigh the cons, don’t they?

Jiseok asks, “So… are we doing this?”

“What, do you want a contract to get it in writing?” Jiseok opens his mouth with excitement lighting up in his eyes, but Hyeongjun shuts that down. “Nevermind, we probably don’t want any evidence. But yes, I’m okay with pretending to date.” After a moment, realizing Jiseok stills seems to be stuck on something, Hyeongjun asks, “Did you want to make a contract?”

“I did say I was a nerd,” Jiseok says with a grin. “You’ll have to get used to that.”

“Okay, nerd. No contract. Let’s get working on the music.”

○ ○ ○

Hyeongjun arrives at Jiseok’s apartment and hovers in the hallway like a ghost. They have no idea what their first “date” entails, since Jiseok wanted to keep it a surprise, but he did tell them to wear sun cream and dress for the weather, so it’s likely outdoors. In one way, it makes sense Hyeongjun is nervous—it’s their first date ever, after all. But it’s also a fake one. A practice-run, and with someone who doesn’t actually have any romantic interest in them.

Finally, Hyeongjun knocks.

The door swings open, and Hyeongjun is still as a statue when they come face to face with Jooyeon.

“Hi, Hyeongjun-ah!”

“Hi,” Hyeongjun says. A beat. “Are you coming too?”

“What?” Jooyeon breaks into that cackle of his. “No, of course not. Jiseok was super nervous so he called me over. He said it’s his first time taking you out on a proper date, how cute!”

“Uh, yeah,” Hyeongjun deadpans, trying to peer at the apartment hidden behind Jooyeon. “Can you let me in, or should I wait here?”

“Oh, come in!” 

Jiseok’s place is even smaller than Hyeongjun’s, a studio apartment with a decent amount of furniture and amenities; there’s no couch but a TV sitting on a table by the end of the bed, a tiny corner with a kitchenette, a desk with a totally high-tech computer like gaming PCs Hyeongjun has seen online, complete with a headset sitting beside the mouse. Shelves full of books jut out from the walls next to a massive Green Day poster, crinkled and creased to show its age.

Jooyeon flops onto the floor, helping himself to a bag of chips. After crunching on a handful, he tells Hyeongjun, “Heeff in tha baffroom,” and then Hyeongjun remembers. Jiseok was nervous? Why? It’s Jiseok’s first date too, they suppose, but he’s the one who made the plans. He’s not the one going in blind.

As if on cue, a muffled voice comes from the only door besides front door and the closet. “Did I hear a knock?”

“Yeah,” Jooyeon calls out, mouth finally free of chips. “Hyeongjunie is here!”

Something topples over in the bathroom, and Jiseok hisses out, “Shit!” Jooyeon just laughs. 

Then Jiseok practically bursts out of the bathroom. His face is a little red, like he’s been running in place for a minute. His darker roots are starting to show, but it’s kind of cute, blended in well enough with the blonde that it doesn’t look jarring or odd. He’s got a white collar poking over a navy crewneck sweater, and Hyeongjun worries maybe they underdressed. At least Jiseok’s jeans have holes ripped in the knees so he doesn’t look too polished.

His big dark eyes land on Hyeongjun standing awkwardly by his bed, Jooyeon sitting by their feet. “You’re—” Jiseok pauses, second-guessing his words, his tongue wetting his lips. Then he clears his throat. “You look lovely, Hyeongjun.”

Hyeongjun self-consciously runs a hand back to smooth over the messy ponytail they’d pulled their hair back in. They’re just in a t-shirt with jeans and a jacket, but they did try to make sure the blue denim of their jacket matched the blue denim of their pants. “Thanks,” they say quieter than they mean to. You’re dating. Be confident! People dating say nice things about each other all the time!

Jooyeon glances between them, eyes round with wonder. “Wow. It’s still so crazy to me you two are really together.”

Hyeongjun stiffens. They thought they’d had everyone fooled that first day, but if even Jooyeon has picked up on something suspicious, they need to try harder; although Jooyeon knows Jiseok better than anyone, so maybe they should have expected he’d be more challenging to convince than usual.

“Excuse me?” Jiseok finally uproots himself from the bathroom doorway, crossing the room to pick up his phone and wallet from his desk and pocket them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jooyeon crunches on another chip and shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re not much alike—besides the guitar thing of course.” He flops backwards to lay on the floor, long hair fanned out behind him, and he squints his eyes at the ceiling in thought. “Jungsu-hyung and Gunil-hyung were obvious, because they’re both so… sentimental, and soft, and emotional. But you guys… just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Some people say opposites attract,” Hyeongjun says, intentionally trying to sound more confident this time. 

“I still can’t believe you confessed your feelings first, Hyeongjunie,” Jooyeon coos. He props himself up on his elbows, wiggling his eyebrows. “Are you secretly like, really smooth? Do you have an insane amount of game and we just never knew?”

“You’re making it sound like Jiseok is hard to win over,” Hyeongjun says.

“And you’re implying that I’m easy!” Jiseok shoots back, a playful look of offense put on his face. He walks over to Hyeongjun’s side, nudging him with his elbow.

“But you already liked me, so it’s not like you needed convincing.” The slight smile spreading on Hyeongjun’s lips comes all too easily.

Jooyeon pouts. “Just promise you won’t replace me.”

Hyeongjun asks, “In the band?” at the same time Jiseok yells over his question, “Never! Jooyeon, what kind of man do you take me for?”

Jooyeon shuffles to sit upright, the frown shifting into a look of concern. “I don’t want to lose all my friends to relationships. Am I gonna have to date Seungmin just to get some attention around here?”

Hyeongjun tilts their head in consideration. “That could be interesting.” But Jiseok squats down to Jooyeon’s level and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re my best friend, and I promise I will still spend one-on-one time with you now that I’m dating Hyeongjun.” He pets Jooyeon’s hair, and Jooyeon closes his eyes at the touch like a calmed puppy. 

“Hm, it helps we live in the same building,” Jooyeon murmurs.

“We gotta get going,” Jiseok tells him with a final pat to the top of Jooyeon’s head.

“Don’t have too much fun without me!” Jooyeon calls out.

And then they’re off. Hyeongjun and Jiseok’s first date. Cool. They can do this!

○ ○ ○

Jiseok taps his fingers on his knees in a ripple the whole subway ride there, glancing at Hyeongjun every few seconds. When they finally ask, “Are you okay?” Jiseok leans over and whispers, “Should I hold your hand?”

Hyeongjun almost shivers from the closeness, Jiseok’s breath on his ear, making Hyeongjun’s hair flutter from the air and tickle their skin. They’re on a rumbling bumpy train car, a few strangers sitting in scattered clumps, but in that moment it all disappeared. It was just Jiseok and Hyeongjun, and the lack of space between them. 

“If you want to,” Hyeongjun says back quietly.

“But do you want me to?” Jiseok asks, worried like Hyeongjun is going to to give him a failing grade. 

“You can hold my hand whenever you feel like it, Jiseok.” And it’s not a lie, and only a slight compromise for their situation. Hyeongjun can be picky when it comes to skinship, but Jiseok is clearly trying to be careful, which is a good sign that he won’t be smothering. And Hyeongjun does like it sometimes from those they’re close with, and they’re supposed to be getting closer with Jiseok, so it will be necessary to get used to.

Jiseok keeps his outside hand drumming on his thigh, but places the other on the inch of seat between their bodies. Carefully, his pinky grazes Hyeongjun’s thigh once. Then his finger brushes it again, so Hyeongjun understood it was on purpose. Why is Jiseok so nervous? 

Hyeongjun puts their hand over Jiseok’s, linking their little fingers together. 

“Remember, it’s practice,” Hyeongjun says softly to Jiseok. “I’m not expecting to be swept off my feet or have my mind blown. It doesn’t have to be perfect; as long as it’s not catastrophic, it’s okay if you make a mistake.”

Jiseok stares at his feet, his eyelashes dark against his smooth skin. “I know, but… I made a whole plan about what order to do everything in, and I’m already forgetting it all.”

He really went through that much effort? “Did you write down this plan?”

Jiseok grimaces. “I did. In a notebook. That I did not bring with me.”

Hyeongjun can’t help mirroring the grimace. “Because you forgot?”

Jiseok ducks his head in shame. “Yeah…”

“Well, I have no expectations because I’ve never been on a date before. And I promise I’m not that hard to please. If it’s really a trainwreck, we can just go watch a movie or something.”

“Right,” Jiseok says firmly, like he’s trying to convince himself. The robotic voice crackles over the speakers, and Jiseok is suddenly clear of his cloud of concern and at attention. “This is our stop!”

As they exit the subway, Hyeongjun takes notice of their surroundings—the magnificent water foundation at the station is the undeniable clue. “Are we going to Lotte World?”

Jiseok makes a vague noise of distress, tilting his head back with a petulant expression. “I mean—yeah, Hyeongjun, but that was supposed to be a surprise!”

“I have eyes, I was going to figure it out at some point. The only way I wouldn’t is if you blindfolded me.”

Jiseok abandons his pouting to nudge Hyeongjun’s side, looping their arms together so he can mutter to Hyeongjun, “Are you into that? Getting kinky already, on the first date—” 

Hyeongjun is already pushing Jiseok away, who stumbles and laughs. The hairs on the back of Hyeongjun’s neck stand up; Jiseok was trying to speak quietly into Hyeongjun’s ear, but with their height difference the words were spoken to their neck, warmth blooming under Hyeongjun’s skin even though the source of the words is now three feet away.

When Jiseok boomerangs back to Hyeongjun’s side, he’s not laughing and he doesn’t touch Hyeongjun again. “Sorry if that was too much.”

“It’s fine.”

As they make their way to the Lotte World entrance, Jiseok is still quiet. And Hyeongjun isn’t disappointed he’s not holding their hand while wandering through the crowd, it’s just that it would be helpful to not lose each other among all the bustling people. 

Fuck it. Hyeongjun reaches for Jiseok ahead of them, who keeps craning his neck around to check Hyeongjun is still following and they haven’t gotten separated, and grabs onto his hand.

Jiseok almost jumps, but when he looks over his shoulder and realizes it’s Hyeongjun, he smiles. And then the smile falters, and he turns around.

Once the crowd clears out a bit, Hyeongjun takes a big step so they can walk by side to side together again. They’re still holding hands. “You know, I’m not gonna bite you. Although—you are best friends with Jooyeon, so maybe you’ve come to expect it.”

Jiseok lets out a loud laugh. Hyeongjun feels a tightness in their chest release at Jiseok’s joy and the return of his smile. “It’s not that!” Jiseok’s laughter subsides, and he glances at their joined hands. “I guess I just… I don’t know how to read you, so I worry I’m bothering you.”

“You’ll know if you’re bothering me. I’d probably just walk away.”

Jiseok nods. “Okay. So as long as you’re here… I’m not being annoying?”

“Well I never said that,” Hyeongjun says, and Jiseok laughs again. Is Hyeongjun really that funny? They’re not trying to be. “I just mean if I want to be alone, I’ll go off somewhere by myself. If I don’t want to talk, I won’t. I can tolerate a lot more than you think.”

“But I don’t want you to tolerate me,” Jiseok whines dramatically. “I want you to like me!”

Hyeongjun smiles, admittedly amused by Jiseok’s theatrics, but the confession makes their skin warm all over. It’s not like no one has ever wanted Hyeongjun’s affection before, considering how many numbers and date offers they’ve had to awkwardly decline. But for some reason, perhaps the given context, Jiseok’s shameless declaration of wanting to be liked by Hyeongjun specifically brings the feeling of an oncoming blush to Hyeongjun’s face.

It’s a week day, so it’s not the levels of insane population crowding Lotte World can get to. When they pick up their tickets Hyeongjun realizes Jiseok paid for Magic Passes so they can skip ahead of the longer lines. He may have forgotten his written out plan, but Hyeongjun can still see the effort he’s put into this.

They stop by a store with classic silly headbands. Jiseok gets lost in all the options, and within seconds he’s out of sight, nowhere to be found. Hyeongjun instantly picks out bunny ears, opting for a gray pair with pink insides and a carrot perched on top of the headband. They’re right next to the checkout, so while they wait for Jiseok they might as well buy them. 

“These will be very cute on you,” the guy behind the counter says, cheeks pink. “Will this be all?”

“Actually, have you seen…” Hyeongjun takes another look around the store, still not finding Jiseok. “A guy a little shorter than me, blonde hair, navy blue sweatshirt…”

“I don’t think so,” he says. The guy’s eyes look Hyeongjun up and down, inspecting them, and he smirks a little. “You know, I get off my shift in an hour, and there’s churros at…”

Hyeongjun is panicking. How is this happening already? On their first date? 

They finally spot a head of blonde hair surrounded by shelves of pink: pink crowns, pink wands, pink fairy wings, pink headbands. Before they can second-guess it, Hyeongjun yells, “Jiseok, honey!”

Jiseok whips around, pink items in hand, struck with a look of shock and disbelief until their eyes land on Hyeongjun at the checkout. His expression quickly switches into an enthusiastic grin, and he hurries over with a pair of pink wings flapping from his movements.

“Sorry babe,” Jiseok says. He shifts his items into one arm, so the other can easily drop to Hyeongjun’s lower back, their hips bumping together lightly. “What is it?”

Hyeongjun’s knees go weak. They almost forget to answer, but the cashier’s eyes are locked in on them, expectant. 

“I wanted to pay for yours,” Hyeongjun says as sweetly as they can. 

Jiseok shakes his head. “Nope, it’s my turn to pay for the date.”

“But you bought the Magic Passes,” Hyeongjun insists, turning to take Jiseok’s wings and headband from his arm. The movement makes Jiseok’s hand slip from their back to their hip, and Hyeongjun can feel their heart pounding in their throat. Has anyone ever touched their hip before? Like this? “Those tickets are so expensive. Please, let me.”

Jiseok sighs, and the cashier avoids eye contact as he scans the rest of their purchase. “Alright,” Jiseok says. “But I’m paying for dinner then.”

“You always do this…” Hyeongjun rolls their eyes, making sure to match the faux-complaint with a smile. 

The cashier clears his throat. 

“Wait, the wings cost how much?” Hyeongjun squints at the screen, baffled at the total number displayed. “Okay, sure, you’re buying dinner.” Jiseok laughs, harder than any normal person would, but it doesn’t sound fake or forced in the slightest.

And it feels good. To not have to stutter through a rejection, to not figure out an awkward way to squirm out of interacting with a stranger. As soon as Jiseok was there with them, the cashier just dropped it. Hyeongjun supposes it’s one thing to flirt with someone who says they’re in a relationship; it’s another to do it right in front of the person they’re in a relationship with. 

Hyeongjun’s grin as they leave the store isn’t fake or forced either, taking Jiseok’s hand in their own.

“Sorry about the wings,” Jiseok says. “I didn’t know you were gonna pay for them, but you made a very good argument. It was impossible for me to go against you.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t lying about those tickets being expensive, either.” They move to a nearby spot where they can don their new accessories. Hyeongjun prods Jiseok’s shoulder to make him turn around. “Arms out,” they tell him, and he T-poses proudly.

“I’m assuming the cashier was trying to get your number?” Jiseok asks as Hyeongjun loops one of the elastic straps around his arm.

Hyeongjun frowns. “Skipped the number, went straight to asking for churros after his shift.”

They stretch the other strap and guide Jiseok’s other arm though it, the pink glittery fairy wings swaying as they settle on his back. “Wow. So that really happens to you that often?”

“Yeah, it does. Thanks for saving me.” Hyeongjun grabs Jiseok’s shoulders and spins him around again—

They’re face to face. Close. Hyeongjun wasn’t expecting them to be that close.

“Of course,” Jiseok says. “What’s a boyfriend for?”

Some people are extra pretty because of their personality, and Jiseok is one of them; Jiseok is the definition of “boyish charm,” a sort of vibrant energy radiating out of him, the complete opposite of what Hyeongjun has been told their own impression is.  

And Hyeongjun already knows Jiseok is cute, because Hyeongjun has eyes. But up close like this, after a moment without his face in view, Hyeongjun is confronted with the fact that it’s not just Jiseok’s warm, friendly aura that makes him cute. He is actually really pretty. 

He’s got big, bright eyes, an equally big and bright smile, smooth skin and hair that’s fluffy but not frizzy like Hyeongjun’s gets when it’s too humid. His teeth are nice, his lips are plump and pink, and—

“Put on my headband?” Jiseok says, quieter than before. Sounding almost hopeful.

Hyeongjun does so, finding Jiseok’s headband of choice: pink fluffy cat ears. Hyeongjun finds him to be more of a puppy if anything, but the ears are adorable on him anyway and they match the wings, so it’s a good choice. 

“Cute,” Hyeongjun says so softly it’s almost inaudible. Why does it feel like their throat is closing up? Do they need water?

Jiseok takes the gray bunny ears next, so Hyeongjun bends down slightly to help Jiseok reach the top of their head. Jiseok takes care to pull out the longer strands of Hyeongjun’s bangs that frame their face from behind their ears where the headband pushed it back, and tingles tickle under Hyeongjun’s skin. 

“Cute,” Jiseok echoes, and Hyeongjun’s ears burn at the knowledge that Jiseok did hear them say it. “What ride should we do first?”

“I have a favorite,” Hyeongjun says. “We’ll need to take off the headbands, though.”

The attendant announces, “The ride will start now!” and Hyeongjun claps in anticipation. It’s been years since they went to an amusement park, and they love the rush of rollercoasters. But Jiseok looks pale.

Then the ride climbs up, and suddenly Jiseok can’t shut up.

“Oh my god, it’s going. We’re going. Okay. The sound—that sound, duruduruduru—the sound of the tracks, isn’t that so—it’s so ominous. Dangerous sound.”

“Are you okay?” Hyeongjun asks. “I thought you also wanted to ride this one.”

“I do! It’s—oh my god we’re almost there. Look how high up we are, look—isn’t this too high? Are we still not at the top yet?”

“Almost,” Hyeongjun tells him. “The scenery is incredible,” they add, hoping to bring something positive to think about as Jiseok’s sanity drains out of his ears.

The ride tips downward, about to fall. “Let’s go!” Hyeongjun screams, ecstatic.

The first few seconds as they rocket down the first drop, Jiseok is silent. 

Then he screams like he’s dying.

Every swoop and drop and turn has some new ridiculous noise jumping out from him. He squeaks, he’s gripping onto the hand rail with white knuckles, he screams, he throws himself into Hyeongjun and clings onto him so tightly he could crush Hyeongjun’s bones, he screeches—Hyeongjun can’t help but laugh.

The ride slows, and Jiseok looks exhausted. “Th—that wasn’t so bad,” he croaks.

Hyeongjun says, “Wait, there’s—”

Before Hyeongjun can finish warning Jiseok that the ride isn’t over, their words are drowned out by Jiseok shrieking at the next rapid descent.

“Are you crying?” Hyeongjun shouts over the roar of the ride and the wind whipping in their ears.

“It’s the wind!” Jiseok yells back, wiping his eyes and sniffling.

Hyeongjun lifts their arms as they fly through the air on the tracks, laughter escaping them into the air thrashing past them. Jiseok is clutching the hand rail, ducking his head, weeping sounds like he’s a wounded animal. 

And the ride slows, slows, and stops.

“It’s over,” Hyeongjun tells Jiseok, putting a hand on his shoulder. It looks like Jiseok tried to curl into the fetal position, but the safety lap bar is in the way, so he’s just slumped over it like a terrified shrimp. “Jiseok-ah, it’s over now.”

Cautiously, Jiseok lifts his head, his mouth hanging open and his eyes squinting as he observes their surroundings to confirm that yes, the ride is over. With his blonde hair sticking in different directions and his face drained of all life, he looks like his soul was just ripped from his body.

They climb out of the coaster car and Jiseok says nothing, trudging out the exit like a zombie, thoroughly traumatized.

“Why did you go on the ride?” Hyeongjun asks, smoothing down their hair and fixing their ponytail.

“You said it’s your favorite!” Jiseok rasps, still looking like he just jumped out of a plane.

“You didn’t have to,” Hyeongjun says. They put the bunny ears back on, pulling the long strands of their bangs out in front of the headband.

Almost painfully sincere, Jiseok says, “I wanted you to have fun. And… I wanted to impress you.”

Hyeongjun steps close enough so they’re standing toe to toe, and takes the pink cat ears from Jiseok’s belt loop. Jiseok goes so still, silent, holding his breath. He’s probably still recovering from the insanity he just put himself through. So Hyeongjun runs their hands through Jiseok’s bleached hair to brush it back to normal, and places the cat ears back on his head. 

“I’m impressed already, Jiseok-ah. I’m having a great time.” Hyeongjun’s hands land on Jiseok’s shoulders now that they’re done fixing his hair, and Jiseok looks up at him.

Jiseok’s eyes really are something. As big as planets, rich dark brown, gazing at Hyeongjun like Hyeongjun has the whole world in their hands. It makes Hyeongjun’s breath catch in their throat, especially being so close. One inch forward and their noses could brush. Another inch, their lips—

“Want to get food?” Hyeongjun asks, stepping back and removing their hands to grab one of Jiseok’s and lead him away from the ride exit. “Take a break, recharge?”

“Yes, please,” Jiseok groans. “Heal me.”

The amusement park is actually a great opportunity to get to know each other. They do still have to wait in lines, albeit shorter ones, and they eat a meal together, so it provides them with ample time to trade information. Jiseok is very easy to talk to; he asks questions about Hyeongjun, but then will provide his own answer without needing to be prompted. The conversation just flows, almost effortlessly.

Every time Hyeongjun automatically cuts themself off when their thoughts start spilling out, Jiseok encourages Hyeongjun to continue. “It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense,” Jiseok says. “I want to hear what you want to say.”

And that ends up being quite a profound sentiment Hyeongjun can understand. Jiseok tries to explain things about his major to Hyeongjun, and it sounds like gibberish but Hyeongjun finds they don’t mind at all; seeing Jiseok’s passion pouring out of every part of him, his animated expressions and hand gestures as he tries to break down physics theories and computer graphics, are captivating enough. The words inertia and g-force don’t mean anything to Hyeongjun, so they just soak in Jiseok’s brilliance.

A long time ago, Hyeongjun gave up on wanting to be understood. Their therapist in high school helped ease Hyeongjun’s frustration by telling them it was not their responsibility to make everyone understand them unless it was something really important, because not everyone has to get you. That’s too exhausting to try and accomplish. It was a bit of a relief for Hyeongjun to hear, since they struggled so much with communication. It made their life much easier to accept that most people just won’t understand what Hyeongjun is like. 

The guys in the band are as eccentric and strange as Hyeongjun is, just in different ways. Their love is unconditional and Hyeongjun has always felt welcomed with open arms, but… they’re still often confused by Hyeongjun, even though they’re getting more and more used to Hyeongjun’s ways over time.

Jiseok is one of the first people to act like he truly wants to understand Hyeongjun. Not by judging them, not by demanding anything from them, not by suggesting Hyeongjun act differently or be someone else. He just asks a lot of questions with this raw sense of curiosity. Hyeongjun finds themself elaborating on a thought, clarifying their opinion, explaining an idea—without feeling like they have to, or like something is wrong with them. And not rushed to find the right words right away. Just because Jiseok wants to know, because Jiseok likes to learn, because Jiseok finds Hyeongjun worth understanding.

Taking it down a notch, they go to the bumper cars. Jiseok is a menace, a devilish grin on his face the entire time as he zips around like a fly, giggling every time he can hit Hyeongjun by surprise. By the end Hyeongjun thinks they nearly missed getting whiplash, but Jiseok buys Hyeongjun a gray bunny keychain to match the headband they picked and any lingering aches or soreness is forgotten. 

Hyeongjun doesn’t even clip the keychain anywhere, just holds it the rest of the day, rubbing their fingers through the fluffy fur endlessly. Luckily Jiseok doesn’t complain about the lack of handholding he had to sacrifice by giving Hyeongjun the bunny. If anything he has this soft look on his face Hyeongjun can’t identify.

The sun has set, and the merry-go-round doesn’t have a huge crowd for once. In the dim sunset-cast glow, the bright yellow lightbulbs call to them like the flicker of a flame luring moths. Jiseok wants to sit on the horse next to Hyeongjun, so he can “enjoy the ride and Hyeongjun at the same time.” 

And surprisingly, Hyeongjun finds they don’t mind the attention. The chaos of Lotte World floats by them in a blur, and Jiseok radiates glee like a little kid. His smile is unfortunately as contagious as a plague; Hyeongjun’s cheeks hurt from how much they’ve smiled all day.

On the escalators down toward the exit, Hyeongjun doesn’t even realize they’re bobbing their head and humming along to the JY Park song crooning from the speakers until Jiseok asks, “You know this song?”

They nod. “I love this song.”

“No way.” Jiseok looks absolutely appalled. “You like JYP?”

“He’s very talented!” 

“I didn’t know you listened to music like this,” Jiseok says, somehow equally fascinated and bewildered. “I thought were into, like… Linkin Park, Wolf Alice, Måneskin!”

“I am!” Hyeongjun says defensively. “And also JYP!”

Jiseok just snickers, and at Hyeongjun’s pointed look, he calms down. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I think it’s kinda cute! Like a hidden charm of yours.” As they step off the escalator, Jiseok slips his hand into Hyeongjun’s once more, guiding them to the subway even though it’s far less crowded now. Hyeongjun keeps the bunny keychain clutched in their other hand. “There are a lot of unexpected things about you, you know? You’re like an endless mystery. I look forward to learning all of your secrets.”

Hyeongjun rolls their eyes. “I’m not keeping secrets from you, Jiseok.”

“Good.” Jiseok lifts his chin with a sudden gust of pride inflating his ego. “As your boyfriend, I would prefer you don’t keep things from me.”

“I don’t think I have to worry about you keeping anything from me. You’re very talkative.”

“I have more discretion than Gunil-hyung! He’s the king of TMI.” 

They arrive at the platform, and Jiseok leads them to a spot further down, away from the clusters of waiting people. He clears his throat before saying, “Speaking of things I should know as your boyfriend…”

His voice lowers in volume and tone when he speaks again, suddenly seeming shy. “I know you’re nonbinary and all, but I didn’t ask… if you’re okay with being called ‘boyfriend.’ I just jumped to it in that text, as a joke, and I know you don’t say anything when the guys call you ‘dude’ or whatever but if it bothers you—”

“I like ‘boyfriend,’” Hyeongjun cuts him off, warmth blooming under their skin. There’s the beating of wings inside their chest again. Their fingertips rub the fur of the bunny keychain faster now, to help ease the feeling. “‘Partner’ is good too, I think I’d just… also like ‘girlfriend,’ sometimes. In private. If you’re comfortable with it.”

Jiseok smiles, something gentler than his usual grin but just as genuine. “Yeah. Sure, of course.” He rocks back and forth from his heels to his toes, the tips of his ears pinker than usual. “I mean, I’d kind of be a dick boyfriend if I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“Yeah, that would pretty much disqualify you for the job.” For some reason, Hyeongjun feels the corner of their mouth twitch up. Apparently even Jiseok’s softer smiles are just as infectious.

When they sit on the train, Jiseok wordlessly offers Hyeongjun one of his earbuds. At first Hyeongjun hesitates; but they’re in a band together, and they have general knowledge of the genres the other likes even outside of that (at least now they do), so Hyeongjun determines Jiseok has earned their trust to play something palatable.

And it is. Sometimes Jiseok’s fingers twitch where they rest on his thighs, rippling about to excellently executed guitar lines or tapping to a particularly fun drum beat, but it’s not distracting. Hyeongjun likes that Jiseok’s enthusiasm for the music is so strong he has to physically react, too much for his body to contain. If anything it might make Hyeongjun appreciate the music more.

And they don’t say a word again until they part ways and say their goodbyes.

○ ○ ○

An unexpected event is accelerating Jiseok and Hyeongjun’s fake dating project to a new level: a wedding. 

Seungmin’s cousin is getting married, and because Seungmin is extremely close with all of his extended family, the whole band is on the guest list. The band that thinks Jiseok and Hyeongjun are dating, so they should be wedding dates as well. 

According to Hyeongjun, they should dress nicely. No jeans, no t-shirts, no sneakers. Seungmin’s elevated level of style would all make them look like slobs in his company, and Hyeongjun tells Jiseok apparently the entire Oh family is as fashionable and cool as Seungmin is. 

Jiseok has been in the band for a month now, but still doesn’t know the others intimately enough for that kind of information. He’s comfortable with everyone, but is still catching up on the details. Now he’s spending hours in their company for multiple days a week, and they mesh so well together Jiseok almost regrets delaying his enrollment if it meant postponing this amount of bonding and growth. Almost. He knows it was important for his studies. But what about his heart?

Two days a week they have band rehearsal at the studio, sometimes accompanied by a meal together beforehand or after. Gunil and Jiseok have been exchanging playlists and video links in an ongoing trade, mostly Western rock bands. Sometimes Jiseok tags along just to watch Gunil play by himself, practicing for projects in his classes. As the senior member of the group, he’s got a lot of work to present for his final year, and his dedication and accomplished skill is astounding. Jungsu often texts Jiseok for mundane tasks like errands and grocery shopping and going to a cafe, but sometimes they just end up going for a walk together and talking. Seungmin is far more playful than his cool vibe gives off, always indulging Jiseok in silly antics. They often end up dancing, head-banging, bouncing around together with giddy energy. And they’re all so affectionate, verbally and physically. Jiseok feels welcomed into a home he didn’t know he had. 

And yet, none of it is quite the same with Hyeongjun.

Of course it’s because of the fake dating thing. Obviously. But a flurry of praise and endless hugs from the band is nothing like the electric current that zips through Jiseok at the slightest touch from Hyeongjun’s slender, practiced fingers, a smile cast his way during band practice, the single word compliment “cute,” whispered under their breath.

The wedding is only a month away and Hyeongjun has offered to take Jiseok shopping. Jiseok does own a suit, but when he proudly showed Seungmin a photo of him wearing it for his graduation ceremony, Seungmin made a face—the one where his mouth presses into a long straight line, eyes dead and resigned. It’s a face he makes when when he doesn’t want to contribute anything negative, so he chooses to stay quiet instead. If you have nothing nice to say don’t say it at all… but Jiseok felt lost.

“What’s wrong with the suit?” Jiseok had asked Hyeongjun.

Hyeongjun’s eyes narrowed at the image on his phone. “You’re already a bit pale, and that shade of blue washes you out. You look a little sickly.” Their painted fingers zoom into the photo more and they add, “It also doesn’t fit you well. Which is all fine for a teenager that needs a suit for the first time, but. Maybe not an adult invited to a very fancy wedding.”

So today, Jiseok sits on his bed picking at his nails while Hyeongjun is pawing through his closet, looking way too cool to even exist in the same room as him. Jiseok whines, “I know I mostly wear t-shirts and sweatshirts, but I have some nice things!”

“Half of your closet is Green Day shirts,” Hyeongjun chuckles. “I’m not even exaggerating. Do you have one for every album?”

“No… Nimrod and Warning are kinda hard to find,” Jiseok huffs.

“I know a place,” Hyeongjun says. And given their style, this is entirely unsurprising. They often show up to practice in a big hoodie and sweatpants, but when they do want to look nice, it’s damn near artistic. Even when Hyeongjun wears t-shirts it’s amplified to another level with how they pair it with other interesting things—a patterened jacket, a splatter-bleached flannel, a quirky hat, a denim skirt with a long row of buttons. And they’re never missing a cool necklace or two, and this chunky armored ring they occasionally fidget with.

Hyeongjun ends up bringing Jiseok into town to a secondhand store, a small building squeezed between many other random small shops. They walked down the street hand in hand, something Hyeongjun has initiated enough times now that Jiseok is comfortable reaching for Hyeongjun’s hand first, but once they enter the store Hyeongjun lets go. And it’s weird that Jiseok notices, that it gives him pause for a split second, because Hyeongjun likes to hold hands as an act of protection. That’s all Jiseok really is when they’re not doing a practice-date—a shield, a barrier, to keep people at bay. 

The store is bursting at the seams, the racks stacked full with rows of shirts and pants, tables piled high. There are purses and hats and scarves hanging from every bare inch of wall space, shoes lined up along the maze of racks. Luckily a peek at the price tags confirms what Jiseok had gathered from the environment; this isn’t some pretentious vintage thrift store, but something genuinely affordable for university students like themselves. Jiseok’s organs can stay away from the black market for another day!

Jiseok is quickly losing himself in the chaos and excess when Hyeongjun says, “Come this way.” So he follows them farther into the store until they’re at a corner of formal wear—long silky dresses, suit jackets, dress shirts, and fancy shoes. 

“What’s your size?” Hyeongjun asks, and Jiseok directs them to the right section. Jiseok mostly just hovers behind them, watching them flick through suit jackets with admirable focus, narrow eyes occasionally darting over their shoulder to look at Jiseok. But not at his eyes, just a vague glance in his direction, like they’re checking something.

“Should I get one of those color readings done?” Jiseok asks, mostly joking. “Find out if I’m like, a cool summer or whatever it is?”

The hangers clink together as Hyeongjun takes a garments off the rack and lumps them over their arm. Hyeongjun shakes their head, turning around and taking Jiseok’s arm in their free hand to pull him along. “No, this will do.”

Jiseok is dragged to stand in front of a mirror, and Hyeongjun holds a few suit jackets in front of his form—a dark emerald green, black with silk lapels, brown plaid, light gray, tan khaki—sorting each one into one of two piles after pondering Jiseok’s reflection.

After this evaluation, Hyeongjun’s hand pets the smaller pile. “How do you like these?”

Jiseok flips through the hangers. The black, green, and gray suits remain. “Yeah, they’re good.”

“Want to try them on?” Hyeongjun asks. “They have changing rooms.”

“Yeah, I probably should, right?” 

Jiseok follows Hyeongjun to the fitting rooms, cringing at his own words. He hasn’t gone shopping in years and even then, he’d just find a cool shirt in his size and take it home. Being in a situation with the focus on him, with someone as elusive and aloof as Hyeongjun, has Jiseok squirming a little.

It’s a hallway with three stalls and a chair. Hyeongjun sits, so Jiseok enters the first stall nervously. 

The suits emit an intimidating aura when they’re hung on the hook, waiting for Jiseok’s touch to remove them. It’s not that Jiseok doesn’t care what he looks like or what he wears. He just likes to be comfortable, often opting for sweaters and t-shirts and hoodies. And the suit he wore for graduation he borrowed from his brother, so he didn’t need to make any choices. It was just convenience. And it’s not that he’s insecure in his looks, but there’s something about the looming presence of Hyeongjun; though out of sight, Jiseok feels the weight of their opinion, their expectations, their eyes on him. 

The black is a little too dark, almost solemn. Kind of boring. The green is a suede texture, very fancy, and makes Jiseok feel a little ridiculous. The gray is nice. It’s sleek, even though the sleeves and pant legs are a bit long. 

Still, Jiseok stands and fiddles with it in the mirror. His hair is a little fluffier than usual from bleaching. He’s got a bit of a baby face—like, why is this child wearing a suit? Is gray too neutral, too corporate, not classy enough? 

“It’s okay if it doesn’t fit,” Hyeongjun’s voice says. “We can get it tailored. I know someone who can do it for really cheap, a family friend.” And so Jiseok takes a deep breath, finally breaking off the staring contest with his reflection to open the stall door and face Hyeongjun.

Hyeongjun’s eyebrows lift. “I like it!” Jiseok feels his own expression light up automatically at their reaction, lips lifting in a smile and cheeks pushing up. Hyeongjun stands, hands smoothing down the fabric at Jiseok’s shoulders. “It fits pretty well, too.” Their hands drag down the sleeves, fingers finding the cuffs, and something warm buzzes behind Jiseok’s sternum. 

“Yeah, except the sleeves…” Jiseok mutters. 

Hyeongjun stays quiet as they inspect Jiseok, nudging his shoulder to signal for him to turn around. Jiseok already feels a little tingly at Hyeongjun’s unwavering attention, behaving like a dress up doll, but Hyeongjun’s hands don’t let up. They feel at his waist, checking the fit of the pants, slip down the slope of Jiseok’s spine, finally spinning him all the way around to tug at the jacket and see if it buttons. 

Hyeongjun finally speaks after a minute of silence. “How do you like it?” 

“I think it’s nice if we can get it altered,” Jiseok says. Hyeongjun is so close. Even though their head is tilted down as they examine the labels of the jacket, Jiseok recognizes if Hyeongjun was looking him the eye they’d be nose to nose. Jiseok has the urge to hold his breath, like if he exhales normally it’ll startle Hyeongjun away.

“The gray is good,” Hyeongjun considers, stepping away from Jiseok to get the entire outfit in view. Jiseok misses the warmth of the touch as soon as they retreat. “It’s a nice neutral stone gray, almost silvery. Not too cool or pale to wash you out. Not so dark it looks like a corporate suit.”

Hyeongjun’s words reassure Jiseok in his choice, making him more comfortable even just in his posture and how he stands. And then Jiseok notices the hangers Hyeongjun left draped over the back of the chair. 

“What are those?”

Hyeongjun goes shy, averting their eyes and ducking their head, but once they pick up the garments their happiness breaks through it. “Some skirts I found,” they say, something shining in their eyes when they look at the clothing. “There’s this one I think is really pretty…” Hyeongjun raises a white lace skirt, displaying it for Jiseok, “But it has very little stretch in the waistband so I want to make sure it will fit. And this one…” Hyeongjun pulls out a red plaid skirt, shorter. “I already have a skirt kind of like this but I like that this length is longer than the one I have.”

“I like them,” Jiseok says, even though Hyeongjun didn’t ask and his opinion doesn’t matter.

Once Jiseok changes back into his clothes and exits the changing stall with his suit back on the hanger, he finds Hyeongjun standing in front of a big mirror at the end of the changing room hallway, the lace skirt flowing down to their ankles. Now that it’s on Jiseok notices it’s not exactly white, more of a cream color. It compliments Hyeongjun’s warm tan skin and dark hair so beautifully.

“Are you going to get them?” Jiseok lays the suit on the chair to walk down the hallway, meeting Hyeongjun at the mirror.

“I really want this one,” Hyeongjun says. They sway a little on the spot, the fabric rippling with the movement. It’s a bit mesmerizing. Then they gesture to where the plaid skirt is hanging over one of the changing stall doors. “But the red one was just a little too big in the waistband.”

Jiseok stares at the red plaid fabric, picturing Hyeongjun in the skirt. How many skirts does Hyeongjun have? What would Jiseok look like in a skirt? 

“Can I try it on?” Jiseok asks before he can think about it.

Hyeongjun’s eyebrows raise, but they hand it to him with a small smile. 

Jiseok just wriggles it on over his jeans; it’s his first time wearing a skirt, so going bare-legged in public feels like a big step to take. 

“Hm,” is all Jiseok says. 

“What?”

“You always look so cool when you wear skirts. You’re just so tall and beautiful, and—” Jiseok’s cheeks warm a little at the compliment slipping out, but he’s never done well with trying to filter his thoughts. “I don’t know, you have this aura about you that skirts just seem to work with. Like some… god-like androgynous supermodel.” Jiseok’s cheeks are definitely pink now, but Hyeongjun’s seem a little red too. So much for worrying about Hyeongjun’s comfort with compliments. But he doesn’t know how else to explain it. “And I just… still look like a boy.”

Jiseok lets out a defeated sigh. Hyeongjun, however, laughs a little. Eyes crinkled up with amusement, they point out, “You are a boy.”

Jiseok regards his reflection again. He looks like a boy in a skirt. That’s why he doesn’t look like Hyeongjun. But with the shifting of his expectations, he finally sees past all of that and just sees Jiseok in a skirt. And it’s cute. It’s fun.

“Yeah,” Jiseok says. “And you’re a tall and beautiful godlike model.”

Hyeongjun rolls their eyes. “I’m not.”

When Jiseok swivels his hips, the pleated red fabric sways with him in a very satisfying way. It kind of looks like a kilt, and he can’t lie—something about the skirt feels very freeing. Like freedom in a sort of punk way that Jiseok hadn’t expected.

Hyeongjun’s voice says quietly, “But you’re a boy that’s beautiful.”

Jiseok doesn’t look at Hyeongjun, hearing the hint of shyness in their voice. His eyes are still observing his form in the skirt with fascination anyway. He’s smiling.

“Are you going to buy it?” Hyeongjun asks.

“I want to,” Jiseok says.

“Then do it. It’s cute.”

And Jiseok buys it. 

○ ○ ○

The train ride to the hotel they’re staying at overnight for the wedding is just over an hour, but Hyeongjun ends up dozing off anyway. Once Hyeongjun is still and settled with their headphones on, it’s pretty easy for them to sleep just about anywhere. One second they’re gazing out the window at the blur of the buildings and trees, the next they’re asleep. Something about the humming whirr of the engine, the slight rocking, and the monotony helps lull Hyeongjun into an impromptu nap.

When Hyeongjun is nudged awake, they realize their makeshift pillow is Jiseok’s shoulder. Their apology dies in their mouth when Jiseok takes Hyeongjun’s arm to help them stand up from their seat, and they’re still kind of groggy from sleep anyway so they let him.

At the hotel they all separate into rooms to change and freshen up. They’re split up in rooms of two; Jungsu and Gunil obviously paired together, Seungmin already nagging Jooyeon not to leave clothes on the floor of theirs, and then of course, Hyeongjun and Jiseok. Hyeongjun doesn’t dwell on it too long—it’s only a matter of time before they had to spend a night together, and they have their own beds in the room anyways since Seungmin’s dad paid for their rooms. It’ll just be like a sleepover with a friend. 

Hyeongjun’s hair is all floofy from brushing it this morning after a shower, so he claims the bathroom to work with his flat iron while Jiseok gets ready in the bedroom. After a while the repetitive motions of pressing his hair with the straightener becomes almost meditative, and once every lock is sitting smoothly he clips in a decorative gold chain. With a few finishing touches—dark black eyeliner, blurred out with brown eyeshadow, some tinted chapstick, concealer here and there—Hyeongjun finally frees himself from the bathroom.

It’s not a surprise finding he took the longest to get ready and their other friends have congregated in their room. Hyeongjun stuck to classic all-black, pairing the black suit with a black turtleneck and shoes. The belt is the focal point, possibly the fanciest part of the whole outfit; the gold buckle matching his hair clip is ornate, but not pushing into being too garish. Still chic.

Hyeongjun quickly turns around, holding both ends of his thin black choker necklace around his neck. “Can someone help me with this?” he asks.

Hyeongjun hears Jiseok say, “Sure,” and feels their fingers graze as Jiseok takes the choker’s short chain. After a little click of the clasp, failing to suppress a shiver at Jiseok’s fingertips grazing his neck, he turns around and gets a proper look at Jiseok.

Jiseok’s suit is tailored well. His white button down under the silvery-gray suit has the top button undone, but otherwise the outfit is sleek and clean. His blonde hair is parted so his forehead is more visible than usual, and he’s used a little makeup too; a bit of light eyeshadow drawing attention to his big eyes, concealer over his dark circles, lip tint that brings out how pretty his lips are.

“You look so pretty!” Jiseok blurts out.

“Oh,” Hyeongjun says softly. His stomach flips. He’s still working on stifling those moments of surprise at Jiseok being romantic. “Thank you.” 

“Are we ready to go?” Gunil asks everyone, and after Seungmin checks his hair in the mirror one last time, they all head to the door.

Hyeongjun reaches out his hand, feeling comfortable warmth at Jiseok’s palm against his own, fingers slipping through the other’s with ease.

The wedding hall is so extravagant, Hyeongjun finds himself relieved he got Jiseok a proper suit.

Seungmin introduces them to so many faces, Hyeongjun has lost count and remembered zero names. But Seungmin is one of his best friends, so Hyeongjun nods and bows and exchanges greetings over and over and over. And Seungmin knows Hyeongjun isn’t great with strangers, so he doesn’t drag out any conversation or make Hyeongjun say more than just hello and his name. And Hyeongjun knows how important Seungmin’s family is to him, so Hyeongjun is more than willing to make the sacrifice. He’s just glad no one made any weird comments about his appearance—Jooyeon’s hair is long, too, but Hyeongjun has painted nails and tattooed fingers on top of that. 

Despite Seungmin’s best efforts it does drain Hyeongjun’s energy, though. He’s practically asleep sitting up during the ceremony even though it’s not too long. The speeches are probably heartfelt, but it’s hard to hear with the echo in the huge wedding hall. Seungmin is sitting with his family, and he’s probably shedding a tear, but the band found their seats toward the back as they’re only distantly related to the bride and groom. Jiseok is bouncing his leg the whole time, fiddling with the buttons on his sleeve cuffs, more jittery than usual.

Once moving onto the banquet, Hyeongjun’s anxiety starts building. With such an elegant setting and romantic context, there’s that pressure of unfamiliarity. The sheer amount of flowers filling the space is impressive. Candles and lanterns illuminate the sleek venue in a glow that creates this sense of intimacy. And couples—married or not—are surrounding them at every turn. Jungsu and Gunil keep whispering to each other with these lovesick looks on their faces, sickeningly sweet. Gunil traces his fingers over Jungsu’s knuckles, and their chairs are so close together they might as well be sitting in each other’s laps.

It isn’t until Jiseok takes his hand at the table that Hyeongjun realizes he’s been fiddling with his Vivian Westwood armor ring so much it’s leaving red marks indented in the skin of his finger. Hyeongjun catches his eyes but doesn’t see the look of pity he expects. How do Jiseok’s eyes sparkle like that? It must be the candlelights reflecting in the dark brown color.

Seungmin has returned to them at last, sharing plenty of family stories about his cousin and how grateful he is that the bride is a part of their family unit now. Hyeongjun has always been a bit envious of the tightly-knit family Seungmin has, how much he relies on them for support, how much love is shared between them all. But as soon as the bitterness arises, Hyeongjun swallows it back. His own family life isn’t bad at all, just a little more… reserved, especially with the men in his family. He’s reminded of how loving and supportive his mom is, and makes a mental note to call her. 

The newlyweds arrive at their table to greet them, and for some reason, Hyeongjun grabs Jiseok’s hand again. Hyeongjun must be squeezing too tightly because Jiseok does some soothing gesture he’s never done before, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hyeongjun’s hand in slow circles. They separate to bow and exchange thanks, but Jiseok comes back to him like drawn by a magnetic pull, his arm settling around Hyeongjun’s waist. 

A tingle shoots down Hyeongjun’s spine, something swirling in his stomach. The touch is so foreign, but Hyeongjun likes it so much immediately it’s concerning.

Luckily, they return to their seats and the noodle soup has arrived, so Hyeongjun can busy himself with the delicious food and warm broth rather than think about love, romance, or the boy next to him that is supposed to be his boyfriend. And at least it’s far too early in the relationship-act for them to be expected to partake in behavior as mushy and devoted as Gunil and Jungsu.

The food is as lavish as the venue; a long buffet is unveiled with huge bowls of steaming sauce and massive platters of piled food. It encourages people to stray from their tables and mingle, which is Hyeongjun’s cue to find a corner to hide in.

It’s not that Hyeongjun doesn’t like meeting new people or making friends. And he has Jiseok here to protect him from any lingering looks that could get the wrong idea, so it’s not like he’ll be treated the same as other public spaces. But something in the air is making Hyeongjun a little short of breath, his mind a little hazy. Echoes from therapy memories pass as little blips in his brain (Is it the weight of expectations? So many unfamiliar faces? Being an outsider at an intimate event?) and they drift away as quickly as they came. He knows ruminating would only make it worse right now, so he commits to people-watching and being weird in the corner.

“I almost couldn’t find you,” says Jiseok’s voice. Sure enough, Hyeongjun turns just a couple degrees to see his date approach.

Sometimes Hyeongjun forgets how handsome Jiseok is. So handsome Hyeongjun can’t stop looking at him even if he wanted to, compelled to memorize his features like his brain is desperate to comprehend how someone can even look like that. With his blonde hair parted so his bangs are out of his face, light makeup accentuating the features of his gorgeous face, the unique luminosity of the lighting all only enhancing his beauty. He was out of sight for only a few minutes, but now that Hyeongjun’s eyes are taking him in again, it’s like the first time he appeared all over again. It makes Hyeongjun’s stomach tie itself in a knot. 

At Hyeongjun’s silence, Jiseok speaks again. “The Oh family invited so many people, I’m surprised my family isn’t here.”

The humor does the trick; amused, Hyeongjun replies with a dramatic sigh, “I know, thankfully I have my bodyguard with me. I don’t know how I’d survive otherwise.”

Jiseok snorts a little. “Bodyguard, huh?” He glances over at their table, where the rest of the band are chatting animatedly. Sometimes their friends’ eyes land on Jiseok and Hyeongjun, but they make no move to coax them out of the corner. “Jooyeon is the one who likes boxing,” Jiseok lists off, “Gunil and Seungmin actually go to the gym, and Jungsu is the tallest. You probably should have picked one of them.”

Without missing a beat, Hyeongjun pretends to start walking away. “Okay, I’ll go get Jooyeon—”

“Nooooo,” Jiseok whines, shamelessly petulant, grabbing onto Hyeongjun’s arms and tugging at his sleeves. “Come back, I didn’t mean it!” 

Jiseok is giggling, his complaints unfortunately adorable, and Hyeongjun can’t fight the grin from forming on his own face. Once they settle down again, Jiseok leans his shoulder against the wall, hands casually tucked into his pants pockets. That suit really fits him well; it was worth getting it tailored. Something about the slate silver-gray brings out the warmth in his skin, the golden-blonde of his hair.

“Honestly, though. Is there a reason you picked me?”

“You were there,” Hyeongjun answers plainly. Jiseok blinks at him, expecting more. “Really, you walked into the room when I had to come up with something.”

A smirk creeps across Jiseok’s face, something mischievous in his eyes. “So it’s fate, then.” He lifts his eyebrows, unable to hold the seriousness, and the sly grin is overtaken by his own amusement.

Hyeongjun squeezes his eyes closed, affection bubbling up in his chest. Why does Jiseok make him feel this way? He opens his eyes again, and Jiseok is unfortunately just as attractive as he was when Hyeongjun closed them, and Hyeongjun exhales. “I don’t know why I picked you,” he says. “It just sort of… happened. But I wouldn’t do this with just anyone, so… I’m glad it was you.”

And the teasing arrogance Jiseok had just put on is completely washed away, no trace left. In stark contrast, Jiseok is now smiling shyly as he looks down at his feet, giving the floor a few taps with the toe of his dress shoe. 

In the quiet, their gazes wander, and the murmur of the crowd talking and the clinking of dishware bleeds back into Hyeongjun’s ears. Talking to Jiseok had Hyeongjun forgetting everything, completely blocking out their surroundings. Jiseok’s eyes flicker to the table, where their friends are very unsubtly trying to sneak glances at them without outright staring. Eager and expectant, like they’re waiting for something.

And when Jiseok’s eyes wander back to Hyeongjun, Hyeongjun is all too glad to look at him, and him only. Again, Jiseok is uncharacteristically shy. So shy he’s almost being timid, and he hesitates even though he clearly has something to say. So Hyeongjun waits patiently for Jiseok to confess what’s on his mind.

Finally, Jiseok tells him, “I think they’re expecting us to kiss.”

Hyeongjun’s heart stops. Just for a moment. 

His eyes almost went wide in surprise, but he caught himself just in time to keep composure. He can’t be acting weird in front of their friends—well, weirder than normal. He doesn’t want questions prying at their sham of a relationship.

“Oh,” is all he can get out. 

It suddenly feels very stuffy in here. The back of his neck is hot and sweaty through his turtleneck. It’s taking all of his willpower to avoid looking at Jiseok’s lips, so pretty and peachy pink. Why is it so hard to breathe? 

“We don’t have to, of course,” Jiseok says, reaching out to touch Hyeongjun’s arm. For some reason he wishes he could feel the touch of Jiseok’s palm on his skin, but the sleeve of his suit jacket separates them. “I just think… that’s why they keep looking.”

Hyeongjun nods slowly. Jiseok is a step closer than before. Hyeongjun likes the small comforting touch on his arm—it’s grounding, an anchor to keep him from floating away. Lost and untethered, dissolving into air, disappearing by the whims of the wind. Jiseok’s lips are so pink. Plump. They look soft. Fuck, Hyeongjun is staring.

“Oh,” Hyeongjun says again. Quieter than he means to.

“It’s a wedding, and it’s…” Is Jiseok looking at Hyeongjun’s lips now? Is he moving closer, or is Hyeongjun just imagining it? Willing it? Wishing it? “It’s kind of romantic, you know…”

Hyeongjun closes his eyes and pushes forward. Jiseok tilts his chin up at the last second. Their lips meet.

He did it without thinking; his mind is still blank. Only noticing the sensations—his heartbeat pounding rapidly in his ears, any other sound muffled. Holding his breath, like if he exhales he’ll just fall apart and crumble to pieces. The firm press of Jiseok’s lips against his own. Soft, plush, just like Hyeongjun thought. Soft enough he could melt.

Just as Hyeongjun starts to pull back, their eyes meet—in that split second, before Hyeongjun can get too far, Jiseok agrees to the move Hyeongjun’s made and decides the next move for him—tells him it’s okay by quickly following to connect their lips again, confident and certain, though Hyeongjun can feel Jiseok’s hand shaking where it’s still holding onto his arm. 

It’s a really nice feeling. Hyeongjun didn’t have any expectations. He hadn’t thought about kissing Jiseok at all. That’s a lie—he had, twice, on their first date. But Hyeongjun’s thoughts never wandered from just, what if we kissed? to actually fantasize about how Jiseok would kiss, and—

It’s far better than nice. Their mouths fit together this time, rather than just a press against one another like before, and when Hyeongjun does finally breathe a pleasured exhale, it makes the next inhale full of Jiseok. Breathing him in, drinking in his essence by their slightly parted lips, the smell of his bergamot perfume.

There’s a palm cupping Hyeongjun’s chin now, moving to cradle the side of his face, and Hyeongjun’s arm has floated up to wrap around Jiseok, his hand settling by Jiseok’s waist. His lips are really just as soft as they look, almost pillowy, and Hyeongjun’s brain feels like putty. As delicate as the caress to Hyeongjun’s cheek is, Jiseok’s hand on Hyeongjun’s arm is now tightly clutching the fabric of his sleeve.

Hyeongjun’s hands are probably trembling, his focus is too narrowed in on their lips to tell—until, oh, Jiseok’s fingers by his face lightly thread into Hyeongjun’s long hair, and Hyeongjun sighs into Jiseok’s mouth, a tingle fluttering under his skin, down the back of his neck, and Hyeongjun is pulling Jiseok into him, closer, by the hands around his little waist, too eager for more. 

Jiseok is far too good of a kisser for Hyeongjun to handle, he was never equipped for this, he’s lost in it, a delightful drowning, and the way Jiseok keeps letting one kiss blend into another, another, layers of color on color and breath on breath, starting to cover up every inch of Hyeongjun’s body and flood his brain—

There’s a soft whistle that Hyeongjun almost doesn’t hear, doesn’t entirely register is directed at them until it prompts Jiseok to break the kiss. But he still stares up at Hyeongjun with a look in his eyes that conveys a multitude of questions—was that okay? are you okay? and painfully, was it good? did you like it? which makes Hyeongjun so weak he could drop to the floor right there.

And after they hold each other’s gaze, a second or two prolonged in time—that, much like the kiss, seems like it lasts for hours—Jiseok finally does turn over his shoulder. Hyeongjun doesn’t see the look Jiseok gives their friends, but Jungsu gives Jiseok a flirty little wink. Jooyeon is beaming, holding a very obvious thumbs up by his side like he’s trying to hide it so Gunil doesn’t chew him out for teasing. Still, it’s Seungmin who puts a hand Jooyeon’s shoulder, and at that signal they all pretend to be busy eating, talking, drinking with one another, turning their backs and pointedly not staring anymore.

Jiseok faces Hyeongjun again, his cheeks pink. Hyeongjun assumes by the heat burning around his own face, he’s probably the same; his ears are searing hot. “Was that okay?” Jiseok asks, eyes glistening with worry. The hand, still on Hyeongjun’s arm, slides down until it reaches Hyeongjun’s wrist, further down to his fingers, seeking further comfort through the touch. Hyeongjun feels that comfort. He hopes Jiseok feels it too.

“I think I like kissing you,” Hyeongjun says, dazed.

“Oh,” Jiseok says, then sputters into this surprised little giggle that is stupidly adorable.

“I’d be okay with doing it again.” Matter-of-factly, because that’s all it is. A fact. He’s sharing information with Jiseok about their arrangement, not confessing secret feelings or anything. “In the future, if it’s necessary.”

Jiseok just says, “Okay,” but he’s clearly reeling in the huge goofy grin threatening to break out on his face into more of a restrained, pleased smile. His ears are still a bit red, the flush dusting his cheeks, too. He looks nice like this. Smiling, pink, pleased. Freshly kissed. It’s an especially good look on him.

○ ○ ○

At the hotel, everyone is buzzing with the relief of no longer needing to be on their “best behavior,” with no one to impress, and the remnants of one complimentary glass of champagne—and perhaps, for Hyeongjun and Jiseok, the lingering of a couple very good kisses—on their lips.

Everyone strips out of their crisp pants and button down shirts, shedding the suit jackets and dress shoes to trade for swim clothes and sandals, and they head to the indoor pool before it closes.

It’s already dark out, the pool area lit with bright fluorescent lights and the pool itself glowing turquoise from beaming underwater bulbs. No one else is there, so they get the place all to themselves. 

Hyeongjun is worn out from the day, cozy in his lounge pants and loose long sleeve shirt, face scrubbed clean of makeup. After all the effort to straighten his thick hair, he wants it to last more than a few hours rather than ruining it with the chemicals in the water. So he pulls up his pant legs and wades a little by the steps, watching his friends play.

Gunil floats on his back like a starfish, limbs sprawled out with his eyes shut peacefully, until splashing interrupts him. Jooyeon and Jiseok are almost never above water at the same time; Jooyeon springs on top of Jiseok to push him under by the shoulders, then Jooyeon is yanked underwater and Jiseok pops up with a hysterical laugh, having tugged him by the ankle. 

Then Gunil carries Jiseok around like a wet puppy on his back, paddling all the way to the stairs to say hi to Hyeongjun before the venture back into the deep end. Jungsu was sitting on the edge with Seungmin, their legs dangling in the warm water, but once swimming races start, they both jump in and join.

“Hyeongjunie, will you judge?” Jungsu asks, waving him over.

Stepping out of the water, Hyeongjun plods over with his wet feet slapping against the tile. Seungmin wins one, then Jungsu and Jooyeon tie. As they bicker, Hyeongjun notices a headache coming on; it’s insanely humid in here, the windows all fogged up, and the smell of chlorine is suffocating. So he taps out as referee, and goes to lay down on a lounge chair.

He doesn’t know when exactly his brain checked out, but he wakes up to water droplets on his face.

“Hyeongjun. Hyeongjun!” A wet hand shakes his shoulder.

He blinks his eyes open to see Jiseok, beautifully bare faced and dripping wet, leaning over him.

“Are you alright?”

Hyeongjun looks around, but he’s so bleary everything is kind of smudged, obscured by steam. “Hm?”

“You fell asleep, I think, but then you were totally unresponsive. Thought maybe you passed out for real.” Jiseok’s eyes are wide with worry, a crease of concern between his darker eyebrows. “Are you feeling okay?”

Groggy, Hyeongjun slowly starts to sit up. His head still aches a bit, his body heavy. “Yeah, just… my head hurts. I think the humidity is getting to me.”

Jiseok’s hand reaches to cradle the back of Hyeongjun’s head, like he’s taking some of the burden away by supporting it for him. “Do you wanna go back to the room?” 

Hyeongjun nods, swinging his legs over the side of the lounge chair to slide on his sandals. As he’s checking the room key is still in his pocket, Jiseok waddles over to his side, a towel around his shoulders and sandals on his feet. “Ready?”

“You don’t have to come with me. I’m fine to go by myself.”

Jiseok holds the frosted glass door to the pool area open for Hyeongjun to walk through first. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go alone?”

Hyeongjun chuckles a little. “I’m not a damsel in distress.” 

They walk to the elevator, Jiseok dripping onto the carpet and squeaking in his sandals. Hyeongjun presses the UP button, and Jiseok says, “You don’t have to be for me to care about you.”

And Jiseok is looking at Hyeongjun when he says it, but Hyeongjun has to keep his eyes set on the elevator button, glowing from the touch of Hyeongjun’s fingers.

Things stay quiet until the elevator arrives, the floor number button is pushed, and the doors slide closed. Then Hyeongjun asks, “Who was your first kiss?”

Jiseok tilts his head, eyes wandering up as he recalls, “My first kiss with a girl was in my first year of high school. My first kiss with a boy was in second year with Jooyeon.”

“Really?”

Jiseok shrugs. “Jooyeon and I went to the same school, remember? And we were both gay. Well—” Jiseok gestures to himself and clarifies, “bi.”

“That doesn’t mean you kissed.”

The elevator dings, the steel doors parting once more. As they exit and make their way down the hall, Jiseok continues, “Sure… but it does, because we did. A lot.”

Hyeongjun lowers his head, watching the kaleidoscope of intricate patterns on the rug pass by with each step of their feet. Considering how borderline co-dependent Jiseok and Jooyeon’s friendship can be, and the level of trust and connection they seem to have innately, it makes sense that they also explored their sexuality together when they were younger. 

The hotel room welcomes them as a safe haven, dark and quiet. Hyeongjun is already starting to feel better with less chemicals and heat clogging up his lungs, his headache easing up. After both brushing their teeth in tandem by the sink, Jiseok peels off his wet shirt. 

Hyeongjun’s attention is drawn to the sudden expanse of bare skin. A dusting of light speckles on his shoulders, mostly freckles, some acne spots. Hyeongjun’s eyes follow down Jiseok’s spine, to his slim waist and where his swim trunks hang low on his hips—

Jiseok turns around, nose wrinkled. “I smell like chlorine. I’m gonna shower if that’s okay?”

He’s lithely built, and lean; despite how slim Jiseok looks, his stomach is quite toned, ridges of muscle visible at certain angles under the bright bathroom lights. Water droplets still coat his skin, one drawing Hyeongjun’s eyes on its trail down to his belly button. 

“Hyeongjun?”

“That’s fine.” Hyeongjun abruptly turns on his heel, giving Jiseok some privacy.

He closes the door to the bathroom behind him as the sound of the water running in the shower starts up. Hyeongjun flops onto one of the beds, welcomed by a plush, cloud-like blanket, and he really is drained from the day because he drifts in a sort of limbo, in and out of conscious thought, until the bathroom door opening rouses Hyeongjun’s brain to the present moment again.

Jiseok’s hair is damp, towel-dried, parted in the middle like the styling from earlier but with strands of his bangs falling onto his forehead now that it’s free of product and pool chemicals. He’s in a loose white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, and for the nth time today Hyeongjun is confronted with the indisputable fact that Jiseok is incredibly attractive—apparently in all states of dress and effort. 

Before Jiseok is even done putting away his things, Hyeongjun says, “Teach me how to kiss.”

Jiseok drops the bottles of skincare in his hands, a clumsy clatter into his toiletries bag. With a bit of a sputter, he chokes out, “What?”

Hyeongjun shuffles to sit upright, hoping Jiseok hears him clearly this time. “If we’re gonna be kissing, I should know how. Right?” 

Jiseok shrugs. “We don’t have to kiss,” he says, hanging his wet clothes and towel by the heater to dry. 

“But if we want people to believe that we do kiss,” Hyeongjun explains. “Which they probably do think already. I shouldn’t look like a total amateur.”

Something clicks for Jiseok now. Hyeongjun can tell by the way he freezes for a split second, hesitates. Then he slowly walks over to Hyeongjun’s bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Hyeongjun-ah, was that your first kiss?”

Hyeongjun nods. Wasn’t it obvious? “I told you at the start, I don’t have any experience with this stuff.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean—okay, I kind of figured, maybe, but I didn’t actually know for certain.” Jiseok looks far more concerned about this than Hyeongjun expected. He waits, but Hyeongjun doesn’t pick up on what for. After a moment, Jiseok asks, “Are you sure about this?”

Hyeongjun nods again. “Yes. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Jiseok crawls closer, until they’re both sitting on the bed facing each other. Only the light from the bedside lamp is on, cloaking them in a warm shadows, a dim golden haze. Jiseok is, unfortunately, still so handsome. It takes Hyeongjun’s breath away to be this close, face to face, with no other possible distractions. To see his pretty eyelashes, his pouty lips. 

“Okay,” Jiseok says, gaze cast downward. He fiddles with the hem of his own pajama pants, the flannel a little frayed. But at last, he takes in a deep breath. Lets it out. And looks up, into Hyeongjun’s eyes.

“Ready?”

Hyeongjun nods. Again.

It’s hesitant, more-so than their first kiss—probably because then it was Hyeongjun who initiated, so Jiseok followed, quickly, enough to be confident in the next. Now it’s just their lips, pressed together, no other touching. Then Jiseok pulls back again, just slightly, waiting with this curious look. Like he’s checking in. 

So Hyeongjun moves next, putting his hands on Jiseok’s shoulders and kissing him again. As their lips touch, Jiseok tilts his head just so—ah, that’s better. Jiseok is pressing his pillowy lips around Hyeongjun’s bottom one, gently but with purpose, so Hyeongjun does the same. Pulls Jiseok’s lip between his own, and—Jiseok’s palm is on his thigh, warm, steady. Not shaking, like before. And when Jiseok disconnects their mouths this time it’s just to slot their lips together better, a warm breath ghosting over Hyeongjun’s lips before Jiseok’s mouth captures his again. 

Jiseok smells good. There’s no trace of the chlorine; whatever body wash, deodorant, or perfume he uses mixes together into this refreshing and earthy combination Hyeongjun likes breathing in all too much. It’s understated, so it takes Jiseok being in this proximity to him for Hyeongjun to really appreciate it. Bergamot, again, but also lavender, vanilla.

Jiseok almost sort of suckles on Hyeongjun’s lip, a feeling that has warmth bleeding throughout Hyeongjun’s chest, giving him courage to take a few more kisses from Jiseok’s lips with certainty, with intent, with Jiseok’s hand on his thigh practically burning a hole through the fabric of his pants to his skin. Kissing like this, Hyeongjun can feel the wetness of inside Jiseok’s lips, and he has a thought so he pulls away—

Jiseok is staring expectantly at Hyeongjun with those wide eyes, his pupils big and dark in the low lighting, his lips a little shiny and pinker than usual, his cheeks pink too. Cute.

Hyeongjun asks, “Do you like tongue?”

Immediately Jiseok’s face crumples, and he drops his head into his hands. “Hyeongjun.”

“I’m trying to learn,” Hyeongjun insists.

After a deep breath for Jiseok to collect himself, he answers honestly. “A little bit? Jooyeon practically sticks his whole tongue in your mouth which I learned I definitely don’t like, but a little here and there…” The flush on his cheeks deepens, and his voice is more breathy when he says, “I can show you.”

And so he does, going in for another kiss. It lasts only a moment at their usual pace before Jiseok deepens it, their lips slotted together but Jiseok’s plush mouth parting Hyeongjun’s lips more this time, so much it feels like each breath Jiseok breathes out, Hyeongjun breathes in right from Jiseok’s mouth into his lungs, and something velvety wet swipes across Hyeongjun’s lip—unwittingly, a little noise escapes Hyeongjun, deafeningly loud in the quiet of the hotel room. 

Hyeongjun doesn’t want to drive Jiseok away with the small sound, and he doesn’t want Jiseok to keep pausing. He feels Jiseok start to recede but he barely gets an inch away before Hyeongjun cups both of Jiseok’s cheeks and pulls him back in to connect their lips again. Jiseok’s hand stays on Hyeongjun’s thigh, the other coming to rest on his hip. The kiss is firm, smooth, a little wet, and this time Hyeongjun licks his own tongue across Jiseok’s lips, and Jiseok’s hands grip tighter, clenching like he’s surprised. God, Hyeongjun likes the feel of Jiseok’s hands on him. 

A ding of a notification sound makes Jiseok break the kiss, and Hyeongjun is outright whining at the loss before he knows the sound is leaving him. Jiseok doesn’t even check the screen, just chucks his phone across the room where it lands with a dull thud against the carpet, and returns to Hyeongjun’s lips with a quickness and a passion that’s almost desperate, feeding the fire flaring up inside Hyeongjun’s stomach.

Hyeongjun slides his hands up from Jiseok’s shoulders to lace together behind his neck, drawing him in closer, and Jiseok is leaning so far forward he’s almost on top of him, and this time it’s Jiseok who hums against Hyeongjun’s lips—

The vibration of the sound mirrors this buzzing feeling lighting up inside Hyeongjun, this itching under his skin that he needs to satisfy. Before he can think too much about it, Hyeongjun fists his hands into Jiseok’s shirt and is falling back, pulling Jiseok with him to fall between his open legs. 

When they kiss again, Hyeongjun feels the rush of Jiseok’s quick intake of breath just before their mouths meet. Hyeongjun’s fingers find the short hair at the nape of Jiseok’s neck, traveling up to thread into his damp hair, but now Jiseok’s hands are planted on the mattress to hold himself up above Hyeongjun, and he misses the touch. 

Then Jiseok is flicking his tongue against the corner of Hyeongjun’s mouth and it makes him gasp, hungry for the next kiss, hungry to satisfy the burning feeling, the smoldering embers floating about inside his body.

It gets messy, but Jiseok doesn’t complain. Every kiss is open-mouthed now, slick with spit, taking in the taste of each other. Hyeongjun is tracing the line of Jiseok’s upper lip with his tongue and feeling Jiseok’s hot panting in his mouth, Hyeongjun’s heartbeat as loud as the thump of a bass drum in his ears, but the softness of Jiseok’s mouth is just outright addictive, like cotton candy melting on his tongue, and Hyeongjun is cursing himself for not kissing Jiseok sooner if it’s this good—but if Jiseok had given him this at Lotte World, who knows what Hyeongjun would have done. He may not have survived.

Growing needy, aching for more, Hyeongjun hooks his legs around Jiseok’s hips, and finally Jiseok’s hands are on him again, one roaming over the back of his thigh, and Hyeongjun’s hands jump from Jiseok’s hair to grasp at the cotton fabric between his shoulderblades, tugging at his shirt, a quiet moan spilling from Jiseok’s lips that sounds like music—

The sound of an unlocking beep. The door opens. 

Blinding light from the hallway opens up right on them like a spotlight, and they both freeze.

“Oh—sorry!” Gunil’s voice yelps.

Jiseok, with Hyeongjun’s legs still around his hips, turns his head and snaps, “Can you knock?!”

“I—I didn’t know—” Gunil holds up two fresh water bottles, stumbling through his words. “I texted you, I just—wanted to make sure you two were okay—” And he tosses the bottles into the room where they bounce off Jiseok’s neglected bed. “Wow, I didn’t know you already—well, not that… My bad! Um—” He flaps his hands about, frantic. “Continue! Be safe!”

The door starts to swing closed, and Jiseok sits up a little, dragging a hand down over his face. “Oh my god.”

And then Gunil’s head pops back in. “Do you need anything? I have condoms and lu—”

Hyeongjun screeches, “Get out!” right as Jiseok bellows, “GO!” 

Gunil ducks his head in apology, and finally retreats. This time the door shuts all the way, the lock latching audibly.

They all have extra keys to each other’s rooms “in case of emergency” by Gunil’s demand. Hyeongjun has never been more regretful of their eldest friend’s safety precautions.

Jiseok drops his forehead against Hyeongjun’s chest with a heavy sigh of frustration. “God dammit,” Jiseok whispers. He must be able to feel the pounding of Hyeongjun’s racing heartbeat. They stay there for a minute, not panting like before but still breathing a bit heavy, catching their breath as everything slows. Hyeongjun’s lips tingle—he just made out with Jiseok, and while there were no shooting stars or fireworks, god, it was exhilarating. 

Maybe Hyeongjun is in a little over his head.

“We should probably get to bed,” Hyeongjun says. 

Jiseok promptly sits upright, says “Yep!” without even looking at Hyeongjun, and scurries right over to his own bed, slipping under the covers.

There’s a click and the light between their beds is gone, total darkness thrust upon them. Jiseok says, “Goodnight Hyeongjun!” almost too cheery for the pitch dark and the hour of night.

"Goodnight Jiseok,” Hyeongjun says. And there’s the strange urge to say “thank you,” but he can’t quite determine why and what exactly for. This is all part of an arrangement they both agreed upon, after all. So he doesn’t say it.