Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kyubin stirred from a deep sleep, aware that it wasn't his own bed he was waking up in.

This awareness was not accompanied by pain splitting his head in two nor even a light pounding in his temples. Instead, he was greeted by sensations alerting in their unfamiliarity: a cold wall against his back, a leg thrown over his, a hand on his abdomen, and slow, regular whiffs of warm air on his face.

He opened his eyes to a sight that made him pause breathing for a second, as if inhaling too suddenly would bring about a reality where this scene was nothing more than another dream he’d try to forget before the final sip of his morning coffee.

Yoojung's eyes were closed, makeup smudged all around them. His hair was a mess of locks thrown all over his half of the pillow, and a duvet covered him up to his chin. Only when a cool wind from the open window reached Kyubin did he realize that Yoojung had taken the whole duvet for himself, leaving nothing for his guest. Despite the morning chill filling the room, he was in no rush to cover himself. He'd worked too hard on this body to deny Yoojung the view. “Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to breathe out through his mouth too much. “Are you awake?”

Yoojung responded with a low grunt, to which the wave of happiness that rose up in Kyubin was wholly unproportional.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

Yoojung shifted his leg up and threw his arm over Kyubin to trap him more effectively. “Don’t you dare move,” he muttered.

Kyubin's gaze traveled down Yoojung's nose to the soft curve of his lips, and he kissed them before his mind fully caught up to his actions. Yoojung hummed and pressed closer, his thumb stroking along Kyubin's spine, and all those gentle things made Kyubin recognize everything this morning truly meant for them. His hand found its way to the back of Yoojung's head, but his attempt to deepen the kiss was met with closed lips.

“That's all you're getting for now,” Yoojung told him and kissed the tip of his nose. “I'm not horny enough to exchange mouth bacteria with you.”

Kyubin laughed. “Are you always this unromantic in the morning?”

“Mhm. Get used to it.”

Get used to it. Those simple words hit him with such joy that he had to close his eyes and calm himself before he crushed Yoojung in his arms out of gratitude. When he dared to open them, he found Yoojung watching him with a drowsy smile.

“What's going through your head?”

“Nothing,” Kyubin said, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up into a giddy smile. “I'm just happy.”

“That's not nothing.” There was something behind the affectionate tone which sounded sad.

Kyubin touched the small wrinkle forming on his forehead. “Why do you look upset?”

Yoojung's hand started caressing his back. “I regret making yesterday harder on you than it already was. I saw how stressed out you were over that speech, but I had no idea how deep that goes. Sorry, this isn't a fun thing to bring up right now, I know. I just hate that I didn’t notice you were at your limit. That can never happen again.”

Kyubin nodded. “It won’t, I promise.”

Yoojung suddenly looked fully awake. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re apologizing for the inconvenience or something. I'm saying that I never want to cause you to have another panic attack, not that I expect you to never have one again.”

“No, I know,” Kyubin said, although he wasn't sure he did know that. “But you shouldn't worry about that. I'm okay.”

“I’ll worry about whatever I want. Why didn't you tell me you get them? I mean, not that you're obligated to tell me, but-” He sighed, his concerned expression turning softer. “I hated not knowing how to help you. If you told me, at least I could've done some research.”

“It’s not that I deliberately hid it from you. I thought they were a thing of the past. I haven't had one since I moved here.”

“Shit, what?” Yoojung propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over Kyubin, momentarily distracting him from the conversation by how breathtaking he looked with yesterday's marks turned light purple on his skin. “You haven't had one in years, and now- did I bring them back?”

“No, no, it wasn't you,” Kyubin rushed to calm his worry. He really didn't want to dig into the topic so early in the day, but he couldn’t let Yoojung feel guilty about what happened. “Every panic attack I’ve ever had happened after a long period of stressing out. I used to get them right before important exams, or sometimes while studying when it all got too overwhelming. Once, it even happened during an exam.” He was grateful when Yoojung began to toy with a lock of his hair resting above his collarbone, anchoring him in the present moment. “The one yesterday wasn’t bad, comparatively. It just took me by surprise. I thought I’d never have one again.”

“So it happened because of a long period of stress?”

“No, not exactly. The stress I experience nowadays is nothing like back then. I think yesterday just brought back all the complicated feelings that have been building up inside me for years, and they were bound to culminate in an eruption of some sort. Like a human volcano, remember that?”

“Yeah, of course I remember.” Yoojung moved his hand down to Kyubin's chest, and Kyubin caught it. “I’m surprised you do.”

“How could I forget the moment when I realized I could listen to you talk for hours? See, that was another factor that went into it. This-” he gestured between them and around them, “always seemed unattainable. Last night was… cathartic. Now I feel the lightest I ever have.”

Yoojung glanced down at their hands. "Not sure I've got the right understanding of what cathartic means, but I think last night was like that for me, too. I can get really controlling sometimes, and it's fun, I like doing it, but it was nice to just… let go for once. There were a few moments yesterday when everything else faded away, and I liked that.” He hesitated before saying, “I didn’t know at first why I was so nervous, but I think it was ‘cause I was worried you’d start to behave differently out of nowhere. Like you have a hidden side that comes out only during sex or something. I don't know, it was stupid.”

Kyubin thought hard about how to respond. It was easy to tell whenever Yoojung downplayed something that had a lot of emotions attached to it. That was what Junhyung did all the time, and Kyubin was never sure when to reply humorously and when to be serious.

In the end, he decided to take a risk and joked, “I think now would be a good time to warn you that I'm saving the reveal of my hidden side for when we’re having sex for the third time.”

Yoojung’s eyes fixed on him with a look that made it difficult not to kiss him. “You’re joking, but you really should come with a warning. Right on the first day, what you should've told me was Hi, my name's Shin Kyubin and I like to make out after getting my dick sucked.”

Kyubin raised his brows. “Is that unusual?”

“I’m not saying it never happens, but apparently some people think it's gross. Like, I just did my fucking best for this guy, down to acting like swallowing his cum was the highlight of my fucking evening, and he can't even offer me the basic decency of pretending he likes that my mouth was full of him seconds ago. So then it's just like, why do I even try at all?” He groaned and hid his face in the crook of Kyubin’s neck. “Sorry, seems I have a lot of built up frustration about this.”

Kyubin kissed the top of his head. “Get it all out of your system before you blow up like a volcano.”

“Yeah, a volcano of sexual frustration blowing up sounds painful.” He nuzzled Kyubin's neck. “You like how gross I am, don't you?”

“Nothing you do or say feels gross to me,” Kyubin told him softly. “It just feels like we’re compatible.”

Yoojung pressed his face to his pec and mumbled, “Stop, I’m not used to being romanced so early in the morning.”

Kyubin’s arms sneaked around his body, which was still wrapped in a duvet. He watched the way light and shadow interacted on Yoojung's luscious locks before forcing his eyes away to look around the room.

Even in the cold morning light, it was cozy. The plushies were still facing away, the plants on the windowsill fluttered in the wind, and the painting over Yoojung's desk appeared even more vivid and detailed, as if the waves were getting ready to spill out of the frame.

"That painting is really nice. Is there a story behind it?"

There was something somber in Yoojung’s voice when he said, “There is.”

“Not one I should ask about,” Kyubin realized. “Sorry.”

With a sigh, Yoojung shifted onto his back and joined Kyubin in staring at the painting. “The story behind how it ended up on my wall is that a friend who used to dance with us was practicing landscapes for an art class. I liked this one, so she gave it to me. The story behind why I wanted it is that my grandma lived by the Yellow Sea her whole life, and I used to visit her a lot.”

“Did she pass recently?”

“No, a while back. Twelve years ago, I think. This isn’t really a reminder of her, just something she said. She told me to think of the sea whenever I needed a reminder that nothing is permanent. You know, like the waves. Ever-changing."

It seemed like a daunting reminder to have looming over one’s head at all times, but Kyubin decided it was best not to share that thought. “Does it help to remember those words when things aren’t going well?”

Yoojung shrugged. “It doesn’t solve anything, but yeah, it can be helpful. Best to keep in mind that nothing lasts for long, good or bad.” He rolled onto his side and accepted Kyubin's invitation to snuggle closer. “I wish I wasn't keeping it in mind right now. I'd rather pretend we can stay like this for the whole day.”

“Me too.” Kyubin caressed the space between Yoojung's shoulder blades as he weighed his options. “I guess I could get a day off, but I don't want to risk angering my boss even more.”

“If he gives you shit today, don't even bother focusing on what he's saying. Think about me instead.”

Kyubin chuckled. “I don't think getting turned on while my boss is giving me a tirade would be a good idea.”

“So do it even though it’s a bad idea.”

“I’m already never going to look at my desk the same, now you want to defile the mental image of my boss’ office?”

Yoojung propped himself up on his elbow to look at him. “I've been with a few men of your type. You know, white-collar job, closeted, sexually frustrated. I've noticed you can be really fixated on defiling your prim and proper lifestyle. And hey, no judgment from me, you gotta let off the steam somehow.”

“I don't think I have any fixations of the sort. If I find out I do, you'll be the first to know.”

Yoojung’s eyes narrowed. “You must have something you've always wanted to try but stopped yourself before you could go for it. A porn you wanted to click on but knew it would awaken something in you, or a fantasy you still feel guilty about, something like that.”

“Well, sure, I'm no stranger to fantasizing,” Kyubin answered evasively. “Nor feeling guilty about it.”

Yoojung put his chin on his fist, his eyes sparkling. “Go on. Tell me the nastiest one.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Aw, come on, please. I can't help you make it come true if I don't know what it is.”

“That’s… no, that's not something we should even attempt.”

Yoojung still looked curious, but gradually more apprehensive. “Why not?”

“It's nothing weird or anything, it's just…” He trailed off, feeling embarrassment creep up on him. “It's unrealistic. Very unrealistic. Especially seeing how badly I messed it up last night.”

He barely managed to close his mouth after speaking when Yoojung pressed his finger to his lips.

“No more beating yourself up over that, you hear me? What happened yesterday doesn't make me wanna try again any less. We just have to make sure you're more relaxed next time you attempt it, and slowly, step by step, we’ll build our way up to living out your wildest fantasies.”

Kyubin parted his lips and closed them over Yoojung's finger, his tongue curling up before sucking on it gently. Yoojung's eyes widened and went dark as they fixed on Kyubin's mouth; only then did it hit Kyubin what he was doing.

He jerked his head back. “Sorry, that- I wasn't thinking at all.”

“Good, think less more often,” Yoojung murmured before kissing him, short and hard. “We’re seeing each other again tonight, right?”

“I- Yeah, I hope so.”

“Good, cause I always finish what I started.”

Kyubin felt a little warmer as he asked, “You mean-”

“You're getting blown tonight. Any objections?”

A breathless laugh escaped him. “No, none. Unless objecting comes with perks of its own, in which case I might try.”

There was something amazed in Yoojung's voice when he said, “I'm gonna bring out a whole new side of you, just you wait.”

“Don't make me wait too long,” Kyubin whispered before capturing his lips.

Once again, Yoojung didn't let him get too deep with the kiss, the smirk on his face telling Kyubin he was just in a mood to tease. “You know, as much as I wanna get wild with you, I do want tonight to be relaxing for you. You're gonna lie down exactly where you are now, and I'll go as fast or as slow as you want me to.”

Kyubin ran his fingers through Yoojung’s hair to move it out of his eyes. “I'd feel bad making you do all the work again.”

“Don’t, I enjoy doing the work. But if you feel like you're ready to return the favor, I'll do everything to make sure you have a good time with it. I still have that vodka which I have no idea what to do with. Should I just buy orange juice and make cocktails to get us both tipsy?”

“What about your no drinking rule?”

Yoojung shrugged. “I have a feeling we’re really close to discovering what ultimate bliss actually feels like, so I’m willing to bend the rules a little.”

An annoying tune resounded in the quiet room, bursting the bubble of morning contentment.

“Shit,” Kyubin sighed. “It’s my alarm.”

Reluctantly, Yoojung rolled over and grabbed Kyubin's pants off the floor. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He turned off the alarm and stared at the clock showing 7 AM. “Listen, I might have to head straight to work from here. Do you have a spare toothbrush I could borrow?”

“Yeah, it's in the cupboard over the sink,” Yoojung said while reaching for his phone. “If you wanna take a shower, there is a towel for guests, but you should take the green one. It's new, it can be yours.”

Kyubin smiled and kissed Yoojung's shoulder before getting up to collect the rest of his clothes off the floor, leaving him to scroll on his phone.

He dealt with morning hygiene quickly, trying his best to ignore how every time his fingers brushed a hickey Yoojung left, it made him want to say fuck it to everything else and stay in bed with him for the whole day.

He attempted to arrange his hair into something tidier and straighten a few wrinkles on his shirt. There was no way to make his clothes look like they weren't yesterday's banquet attire, but since he had a history of wearing slightly too fancy clothes on any random day, if nobody paid close attention to him, he should get away with it without probing questions. No hickeys were visible above his collar, which was a relief. And maybe a little bit of a pity, because covering a hickey with the makeup of the person who made it seemed like something he ought to try at some point.

On his way to kiss Yoojung goodbye, he noticed a peculiar sight on the kitchen table which he couldn't pass by without asking.

Yoojung was still on his phone when he got back to the bedroom. “Hey, what are all those cookies for?”

“Huh?” Yoojung looked up, seeming a bit distracted. “Oh, that. I’ve been stress-baking. You can take however many you want. All of them, even. Share them around at work.”

“Really? Thank you.” He took in the look on Yoojung's face as he returned to staring intently at the screen. “What happened? Is it the news?”

Yoojung turned his phone around, allowing Kyubin to see the front page of his email. The name BlueBlueSeoul was written at the very top in thick letters, and the first sentence began with Thank you for participating in... He reached forward to open the email and see what was written next, but Yoojung snatched the phone away before he could touch it.

“Don't, I'm not ready.”

“There’s good news there,” Kyubin reassured him with all the confidence that filled him. There was another emotion which he struggled to name, but he quickly realized exactly what it was - pride.

But Yoojung obviously didn't share either of those feelings. “Didn’t you see the first sentence? Emails with bad news always start exactly like that.” Quieter, he added, “But it's not like I'd know how the good ones start.”

Kyubin squatted down by the bed and placed his hands on Yoojung's knees. “And this is the moment when you find out. Open it. You've been waiting long enough to celebrate this.”

Yoojung drew in a tense breath. “And what if after all this waiting, there's nothing to celebrate?”

“Not possible. If they really are as amazing as you find them, they wouldn't dare to miss out on having you on their team.”

“Keep saying this on the off chance that there are higher powers listening.”

“You don't need higher powers. You’ve got this.”

Yoojung's thumb hovered over the screen, not getting any closer to touching it. Then he groaned and put the phone down to hide his face in his hands. “No, I can't. Everything’s been going so well until this came out like a jumpscare. No, that's a shit comparison, cause at least after a jumpscare you laugh at how ridiculous it is to be scared of something on a screen, but now the monster actually is under my bed.”

“Tell you what,” Kyubin said while taking Yoojung's hands away from his face to hold them. “How about you give yourself some time to accept that the results are here, and then we'll check them together in the evening? It would be a good start to our night, right?”

“Fuck, I hope,” Yoojung whispered and grabbed Kyubin's hands more firmly. “I could happily pretend this doesn't exist for another week, but you’re right. Better get this over with tonight.”

Kyubin felt an overwhelming urge to kiss some part of him as a comforting gesture, and after a moment of hesitating, he pressed his lips to his forehead. “Can I do anything to help you get through the day?”

There was a second before Yoojung went back to looking stressed where he seemed almost flustered by the gesture. “I don’t know. If it’s busy at work today, I’ll always have a distraction, but- Shit, I feel like I’m gonna be sick right now. Maybe I'll take a small sip of vodka to settle my stomach. If there's ever an excuse for daytime drinking, it’s this.”

Kyubin wondered for a second if he should question that decision, but decided against it. “That’s right. Would you like some breakfast to go along with it?”

“I’ll grab something on the way.” He squeezed Kyubin's hands one last time before releasing him from his hold. “Go, see you tonight.”

Kyubin opened his mouth to repeat the phrase, but paused, realizing suddenly that he’s allowed to attach a term of endearment to simple sentences such as these. To test the waters, he said, “See you tonight… baby?”

Yoojung’s head snapped up with a perplexed look, and then, he snorted loudly. “You didn't sound convinced you wanted to say that.”

“Yeah, it didn't feel right,” he laughed. Purely to keep Yoojung amused for a little longer, he said, “See you later, honey.”

“Ew, gross. Go before I change my mind about wanting my mouth anywhere near this,” Yoojung said while pointing his foot at Kyubin's crotch.

Kyubin never rushed out the door faster.

The cookies found their rightful place by the coffee express, and since then, Kyubin saw people from every department munching on one in various places around the building. Every time he made eye contact, the reaction was that of a kid caught misbehaving rather than an adult having a snack between meetings. Perhaps he should have left a note saying the cookies were put there precisely with the purpose to be shared around.

Around lunchtime, his phone buzzed with messages from Yoojung.

11:28AM It's happened
11:28AM My worst nightmare
11:28AM Barely any customers today ㅠㅠ

11:30AM Is there nothing that could serve as a distraction?

11:30AM I don’t knowwww
11:31AM I usually make up scenarios in my head on slower days

11:33AM You mentioned that BlueBlueSeoul travel the world with their performances, so think of all the places you'd like to visit. So many other seas and oceans out there, and you'll get to dip your toes in all of them. Waves never stay the same, and all this stress will go away, too.

11:45AM It's working. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

It was hard to keep a smile off his face as he attempted to focus on work instead of diving into daydreams of their night, of Yoojung’s lips, of his skin in the low light, of his skillful hands and tongue, of everything that made him so easy to get addicted to and made the stacks of numbers on Kyubin’s screen blur before his eyes from their insignificance.

He closed his eyes and gave himself a moment to compose himself. This jittery happiness was a rarity, something he didn't think men over thirty were even capable of experiencing, and he didn’t want to waste effort on suppressing it. He was going to cherish every second until he was back in Yoojung’s arms and could indulge his addiction all over again.

The second his stomach let him know it was time for lunch, he made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find at least one cookie left. He rounded the corner and immediately jumped back behind the wall when he spotted his boss by the coffee express. Cautiously, he stuck his head out and observed as the man picked up one of the remaining cookies and took a bite, his eyes widening as he chewed slowly. After a quick look around, he snatched up two more and shoved them into the pockets of his blazer before heading right at Kyubin.

“Ah, Mister Shin,” he said, alarmed. His attention shifted down to Kyubin’s suit. “A little overdressed, aren’t you? Pity you didn’t show up at yesterday’s banquet, you would have fit right in.”

“I apologize, sir,” Kyubin said while bowing his head low. “Something came up at the very last minute, I had to leave early.”

“I see. Mr. Jung did alright in your stead, so I’ll let you off the hook this once.”

“Thank you, sir” Kyubin bowed again. “Enjoy your meal.”

The man’s face grew stern. “Are you planning to have a laugh about this behind my back?”

“No, sir, not at all. I’m glad everyone seems to like them so much.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the one who brought them here?” he asked in a vaguely amiable tone.

“I would. A friend of mine made them, actually.”

“Huh. Very well. I’ve always been against snack bars in the workplace, but implementing one might not be such a bad idea after all. It seems to have boosted morale around the office. Now, back to work.” He took another bite and walked away, leaving Kyubin to ponder if he’d woken up in an alternate universe.

He arrived at Yoojung's door in a light mood. He had to press the buzzer a few times before the door unlocked to let him into the building. His feet skipped over every other step, invigorated by the perspective of pulling Yoojung into his arms and kissing him as a greeting, at last no second-guessing or hesitation preceding it.

He opened the door without bothering to knock, his heart beating faster not only from the run. He saw Yoojung sitting on the couch, and he quickly toed off his shoes. “Hey, the traffic’s been a nightmare, but I'm finally here.”

Yoojung's only reaction to his presence was to reach for a bottle sitting at the table and tilt his head back as he took a big gulp. He pushed himself up to a stand, but then he swayed, and Kyubin ran up to his side to catch him.

“Easy, careful.” He guided him to sit down, taking the bottle out of his hands. Very little of the vodka seemed to be missing, but its effects were all too visible. Yoojung attempted to clumsily steal the bottle for himself, so Kyubin placed it on a cupboard beyond his reach. “Lie down, I'll bring you a glass of water.”

“I'm fine,” Yoojung grumbled while making an effort to stand up again. “Why are you here?”r

“Okay,” Kyubin chuckled in consternation, “I see that what you need is a double espresso, not water. Maybe we should have read that email in the morning after all. Let’s check what they wrote to you right now so you can finally free yourself from the stress.”

Yoojung gave up on trying to stand up and gestured toward the bottle. “Bring me that.”

Kyubin sat by his side. “I understand the urge to drink your stress away, I really do, but it looks like you've had enough.” Yoojung grimaced in a way that Kyubin might have found endearing if he wasn't so worried. “Fuck that, I drink if I wanna drink.”

Kyubin held his forearms and tried to catch his gaze as Yoojung attempted to pull out of his hold. “Yoojung, hey. Listen. You never told me why you made the decision to avoid drinking, but I’m taking it seriously. I won’t let you do anything that could be harmful.”

“Why are you here?” Yoojung asked again, getting more irritated.

“I'm here to support you,” Kyubin said in his firm voice.

Yoojung stopped struggling, his brows furrowed like he was trying to make sense of those words. When Kyubin loosened his hold, he snatched his arms away and crossed them over his chest.

“I’m here because I want to support you,” Kyubin repeated, searching Yoojung's face for a hint that his words were getting through. “I’m trying my best to do that right now, so please, tell me what you need. Anything other than this.”

Yoojung slumped against the backrest and cast one longing glance at the bottle. “The sea.”

“You need the sea? As in, the painting or the real sea?”

“Real. I need to see it. I need to be there. I’m gonna- yeah, I’m gonna be there.” He clenched the edge of the seat tightly and pushed himself up to his feet successfully, as if the sheer mention of going to the sea returned his bodily coordination. Kyubin watched him lean on the table and take a few small steps, then support himself against the wall as he made his way to the door.

“Wait, hold on.” He jumped up to his feet to get to the door before Yoojung did and blocked it. “Are you really intending to go right now?”

“Yeah, I'm going.”

Kyubin watched him clumsily put on his shoes while he scoured his brain for a more easily available alternative. “How about the Han River? You'd get there a lot faster.”

“Whatever,” Yoojung murmured and elbowed Kyubin's side to get to the door. “Just can't be here. Anywhere but here.”

His walk downstairs consisted of tightly grabbing onto the railing and staring intently at where his feet were stepping. Kyubin stayed right behind, looking out for any misstep that would cause Yoojung to lose his balance. He’d never been quite so grateful for the training that caring for drunk Junhyung gave him. The fact that this was Yoojung of all people only gave his alertness a boost, especially since he had no idea what other side effects to anticipate. If Yoojung wasn't supposed to drink too much, what happened when he did? A strong headache or something worse? Why the hell didn’t he just call Kyubin if he needed a distraction so badly?

Once Yoojung arrived at the bottom of the stairs, thankfully unharmed, Kyubin told him, “I’ll order you a taxi.”

Yoojung made a vaguely annoyed sound. “Don’t, I'm walking.”

“Are you sure? Can you even walk without any support?”

Yoojung let go of the railing and took a few wobbly steps. “Can. I'm walking.”

“Alright then,” Kyubin sighed and stood next to him. “Ready?”

“What d’you think you're doing? Didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“There’s no way I’d let you go alone,” Kyubin protested. “You didn’t even take your phone or wallet with you. I could call a friend of yours if that's what you prefer, but I can't let you go alone.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I really can't. I saw you walk right under a speeding car once, and I'm not letting it happen again.”

His words seemed to have gotten through Yoojung’s drunken haze, because he paused with his hand clasping the handle. “Whatever, just don't talk. No talking, no thinking.”

A few minutes of breathing fresh air - and accepting a bottle of water Kyubin bought him along the way - sobered Yoojung up enough to prevent him from stumbling off the sidewalk. The line he walked never stopped meandering, but Kyubin could walk a few steps behind him with a clear conscience. He saw how hunched Yoojung's back was as he walked, shoulders drooping, feet dragging as if the air surrounding his legs felt thick as water. Had it not been for his bright hair, Kyubin wouldn’t have been able to tell him apart from other passersby. The closer they got to the riverside, the harder it was to avoid entertaining the thought that Yoojung wasn’t like this just because of a few sips of vodka. Something spurred him to drink from that bottle, and it wasn’t hard to guess what that thing might have been.

Even though only one explanation made sense, it also took sense away from everything Kyubin understood to be true. From the moment he saw Yoojung dance, he could see that this man was meant to achieve great things. A world in which talent like this went unrecognized wasn’t a world that made sense at all.

When Yoojung settled on the riverbank, Kyubin stayed back to give him space, the hope that his suspicions were wrong slowly evaporating. He never tried to imagine how Yoojung might look if his dream was crushed in an instant by a few words on a screen, but if he did imagine it, it would've been uncomfortably close to this.

If by some awful twist of fate there were people with better technical skills at that audition, or people with more impactful choreographies, or simply people who happened to perform at a higher level on that specific day, what was he supposed to say to Yoojung? He had no words to offer that could make this better. Once again, he was useless.

He waited for the final rays of the sun to disappear behind skyscrapers before he sat by Yoojung's side.

“Being a river would be so much simpler than whatever this is,” Yoojung said with a blank expression. “At least you'd always know where you're gonna end up.”

“You know the results already,” Kyubin said as delicately as he could, “don't you?”

Yoojung didn’t speak for a while, so the final spark of hope was already extinguished even before Kyubin heard his answer. “It was making me sick, thinking about how much depends on something that's a single click away. I had to get it over with.”

Despite everything, Kyubin’s heart still sank to his stomach at the confirmation. Right after that, something defiant rose up inside him and invigorated him to say, “No, this isn't right. They must have made a mistake. They must have. We need to contact them. We'll write, and if that doesn't work, we'll call, and we'll tell them that-”

“No, we won't,” Yoojung interrupted, sounding numb and exhausted. “They made their decision. You might be surprised by this, but I'm not. I'm used to it.”

“But you shouldn't be. This is not fair at all. What kind of standards do they have if they can just pass up on you?!”

“Good ones?” Yoojung suggested bitterly. “It’s not like they did anything out of the ordinary.”

“But- it just doesn't make any sense. Did they not watch you perform the same choreography as I did? It was clear to me how much thought you put into it and how passionate you are about this, so how could those who call themselves experts be so oblivious?”

Yoojung snorted. “You think this isn't exactly what goes through my head every single time this happens? That this isn't fair, that their standards are shit, that it's their loss? And do I actually believe any of that? No, but I have to think this way, or I'd never try again. And you know what?” He turned to Kyubin, his pain apparent in his eyes and voice when he spat out, “Maybe this wouldn't hurt so fucking much if you never made me believe that something could actually happen for me this once.”

The impact of those words put all the fight out of Kyubin. He stared at Yoojung as his hands balled into fists in his lap, too ashamed to reach toward him and comfort him. “I'm sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have been so confident about something I know so little about. I'm so sorry for making this harder on you.”

Yoojung shook his head. “Whatever, I brought this on myself. You were just being supportive. All I had to do was not believe you.” He didn't sound angry, merely resigned, which was somehow more difficult to hear.

“I’m really sorry,” Kyubin repeated helplessly.

“Stop, this is so stupid,” Yoojung laughed. “Me, not you. I should’ve accepted that my chances were nonexistent right after I walked out of that audition instead of wasting my time daydreaming. I actually believed I’d get to travel the world with them. See Paris, New York, Sydney. Even Tokyo, I’ve never been there. So stupid.”

Kyubin could tell this wasn't the right moment to offer he could take Yoojung anywhere he wanted, so he stayed quiet, giving him time to get out all the words he needed in order to start healing.

After a heavy pause, Yoojung continued, “You know, even if we never went outside of Korea, I- I just wanted to know what it would be like to meet all of them as colleagues. Work together on a shared vision. Exchange ideas as if we were equals. Finally get some solid proof that this hasn't been a huge waste of time.” His voice wavered, and he drew in a sharp breath. “You know what. Um. Let’s just go back, we still have plans for tonight. Your dick isn’t gonna suck itself.”

“What?” Kyubin asked, perplexed by the turn the conversation took. “Uh, sure, if you want to go back, then let’s go.”

He chose to ignore the latter part, suspecting it was nothing more than an attempt to pretend their plans wouldn’t have to change drastically. He stood up and looked at Yoojung to check if he was ready to leave, but noticed his eyes seemed glassy.

“Actually, you go ahead, I-” Yoojung pressed his lips tightly together and cleared his throat, the effort too exaggerated to mask his emotions successfully. “I'll just admire the water for a bit.”

Kyubin stood still, immobilized by a memory from his childhood. It was still so vivid in his mind. He was six, maybe seven - young enough to get teary-eyed whenever something felt too difficult, old enough to understand that a boy with tears running down his face wasn't something people liked to see. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened that made this specific memory stand out. All he remembered was the heavy feeling in his chest all throughout dinner as his parents calmly finished their meals, not once looking in his direction. It didn't matter if they really didn't notice him holding back his tears, or if they were ignoring him deliberately; he never wished to make anyone feel that way.

He sat back down. “Yoojung, I… I can’t leave you alone right now.”

Yoojung choked out a laugh. “I can look at water on my own, I’m not gonna fall in.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Kyubin said quietly, as if for the river to carry his words to Yoojung's ears and drown them immediately afterwards. “It’s okay if you need to cry.”

“Nah, me? I don’t need to do that.” His body couldn’t allow him to tell such a lie, because right as he finished speaking, his chest shook with a sob. He quickly pressed his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound trying to escape. “Alright, so maybe I need to. But I’m not gonna.”

“Why not?”

“Cause there are people around, and it’s fucking embarrasing to make a scene over something so stupid.”

“This was your dream,” Kyubin said gently. “It’s not stupid to feel heartbroken over it.”

“Yeah, but it's not like I'm not used to letting go of stuff I got attached to. I mean, it's not like the world is ending or anything.”

“It's okay if it feels like it.”

A tear escaped Yoojung’s eye right before he shielded his face with one hand. He didn’t turn his back to Kyubin, nor did he stand up and walk away.

Somewhere inside Kyubin, his six-year-old self locked himself in his room and cried into a pillow, wishing he could be calmer, tougher, more like his father who didn't seem to feel much at all. In hindsight, he knew that what he really wished for was to have someone sit on his bedside and caress his head until every last trace of pain was smothered by a kind touch.

He placed his hand on Yoojung's head and saw his whole body go rigid. “You might feel a bit better if you let it out. I know it won’t fix everything, but… don’t hold it in, okay?”

His hand moved downward, all the way to the ends of Yoojung’s hair and halfway down his back. When Yoojung remained motionless, worry flashed in Kyubin's mind that he was only making matters worse, but he was committed to what he started. After a moment of unsettling stillness, Yoojung’s shoulders began shaking. His face was still hidden, but Kyubin heard how hard he was trying not to make any noise.

“Come here,” he said as he guided Yoojung closer, surrounding him with his arms and allowing him to hide against his chest. “Nobody’s looking now,” he whispered, caressing from the top of his head to the small of his back. “Just let it out.”

Yoojung stayed perfectly silent for a second, but then the dam broke, leaving the thin material of Kyubin's shirt damp in seconds. He felt the full force of Yoojung’s heartache as his hands clutched his shirt desperately, and he heard it in the frantic way Yoojung caught air with his mouth, like each breath could be his last.

He didn't know what the right words to say were at that point. There is going to be another chance wouldn't bring the desired comfort. You've worked hard would only emphasize how unfair the whole situation was. I'm here for you was arguably the worst of all. His presence was worth nothing. If he could make himself disappear to get Yoojung’s dream to come true, he would do so in a heartbeat.

All he could do was hold him closer, envelop his trembling form with his arms until the only proof of this moment was the front of Kyubin's shirt, creased and painted with tears.

The sniffling began to grow less and less frequent until Yoojung went entirely quiet. He didn’t move, and neither did Kyubin, waiting for a sign that Yoojung was calm enough to leave his hiding spot. He loosened his hold a little, just to allow Yoojung a bit more breathing room, but regretted it when Yoojung immediately withdrew from his embrace and faced the river again.

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” he said while quickly wiping his face with his sleeves. “And I’m saying this as someone with a history of embarrassing myself in public. Like, once this guy’s boss caught us with my fingers up his ass in a changing room. The guy’s, not the boss’, obviously. That was an adventure.”

Kyubin stared at the redness on his nose and around his eyes. His arms felt empty, but Yoojung was sitting far enough to be out of his reach, and he didn’t dare to cross the distance. “Nobody here was paying attention,” he said, though he couldn't be sure since his focus had been directed elsewhere.

“Nobody,” Yoojung repeated under his breath, loud enough for Kyubin to hear and read into. He wasn't a nobody to Yoojung, and he was paying attention. Judging by Yoojung's obvious discomfort, it was far too much attention than he could handle.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Yoojung said with a forced laugh, refusing to meet his eyes. “So good.”

Ignoring the blatant lie seemed to be what Yoojung preferred, so Kyubin went along with the pretense. “That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.”

Yoojung stood up suddenly, and turned around without a word. Kyubin jumped up to his feet to follow him, setting a quick pace, but he caught up immediately when Yoojung stopped and faced him with a determined expression.

“This isn’t how I normally react to this kind of thing. I just think you should know that. This was me being a human volcano, nothing more. Or maybe it was the alcohol, I don't know. Now you see why I shouldn't drink.”

“It was a very understandable reaction,” Kyubin assured him.

Yoojung scoffed and wrapped his arms around himself. “Yeah, maybe. Don't be concerned about me, is what I'm trying to say. I'm fine. I move on fast.”

“That's great,” Kyubin said, hoping he sounded convincingly unconcerned. “What would you like to do now? Maybe go to a sweetshop? I think I saw one on the-”

“Your shirt,” Yoojung interrupted, his brows drawn into a frown.

Kyubin didn’t have to look down at the wet spots in the material to know some of them were uncomfortably sticky, too much to be the cause of nothing but tears. “This? Ah, this is nothing.” He adjusted it so it wasn’t pressing to his skin, trying not to wince. “I’ve been wearing it for two days straight, it’s due for a wash anyway.”

“I’ll wash it for you,” Yoojung offered, eyes fixed on the shirt like he wanted to evaporate the proof of his sorrow with his gaze alone.

“It’s fine, you don't have to.” He quickly realized it was the wrong answer when Yoojung's face fell, so he rushed to say, “But if you want to, yes, of course.”

“I want to. Let's go back to my place. You said something about a taxi before, didn’t you? That was a good idea, let’s get one right now. Sorry for making you walk all the way here, we should’ve just- we shouldn’t have even come here.”

Kyubin shook his head with what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Don’t be sorry, I needed to straighten my legs anyway. Besides, I’ve never seen the Han River from this spot before, so I have you to thank for showing me something new.”

His words didn’t erase the tension, nor did it disappear during the drive. Yoojung didn't look away from the window, and it was clear he wasn't feeling any less uneasy than he did before crying; if anything, he seemed even more agitated as he kept fidgeting in his seat, teeth gnawing on his lips, hands in constant motion. All of it made Kyubin wonder if going home alone wouldn't have been a little easier on him. Perhaps it would have, and he knew that, but he still chose to have Kyubin by his side. That was meaningful.

Kyubin placed his hand on the middle seat and waited, staring out the window to not put any pressure on Yoojung. After about a minute, he felt a warm sensation along his pinky, and he hid a relieved smile behind his hand.

The drive wasn't nearly long enough to think up an extensive list of ways to help Yoojung end the day in a more peaceful state of mind. Once they were back in Yoojung's flat, he proposed his first idea.

“Would you like to listen to the music from Swan Lake?”

Yoojung paused while untying his shoelaces. “No. Why?”

“Nevermind then. What about watching a movie you like? What's your favorite?”

Yoojung finished taking off his shoes and reached for Kyubin's shirt. “We're not here to watch movies.” The material was already dry, but his fingers worked hastily, careless toward the thin threads holding the buttons in place.

Kyubin stopped him before he accidentally tore something. “I’ll take care of this. You just come up with how you'd like to spend the rest of the evening.”

“Washing your shirt was just a pretext to invite you for the night,” Yoojung said, gaze searching Kyubin’s face like he was trying to find an answer to a question never asked. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious. I’m grateful that you invited me.”

“Why are you grateful?” Yoojung asked quietly.

“Well, I- I’m grateful that you want me around. I'm grateful you trust me.”

The material pressed snugly to his skin as Yoojung pulled it closer to himself with tightly clenched fists, and Kyubin thought that maybe somewhere deep, they both felt the same unease about how being separate bodies could ever allow them to get to each other’s core. Some impalpable parts of Yoojung were in distress, and they would remain unreachable until Yoojung decided to voice them, but until then, there was no way for Kyubin to offer them comfort. Clothes were a barrier between them and bodies were a barrier between them.

“I’m here for you,” he whispered as he caressed Yoojung's arm, wishing that could be enough for the barrier to start coming down. “Whatever you need me for.”

Yoojung’s face shifted between a few conflicting emotions, and then he yanked Kyubin closer.

What should have felt like a kiss was just an uninviting clash of lips at first, with Yoojung’s knuckles digging into his chest and no movement between the two of them. Yoojung took action first by attempting to make Kyubin part his lips, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

He returned the kiss expecting them to fall into a shared rhythm, but his body couldn't figure it out this time. Unlike every kiss before this one, it didn’t make his mind go quiet. He found himself overanalyzing how stiff and uncertain Yoojung’s hands were, holding his shoulders in a tight grip, not wandering anywhere else. His lips were firm and quick, and no kiss lingered for long enough to make Kyubin respond with passion. No part of how Yoojung’s body moved felt motivated by desire, and the alarm bells it set off in Kyubin’s head overlapped with echoes of Yoojung's distressed sobs, effectively drowning out every other thought and making it impossible to recall how their bodies ever got to the point of moving together instinctively.

Yoojung separated their lips to whisper frustratedly, “This isn’t working. Why isn’t this working?”

Kyubin tried to offer a comforting smile. “It’s not working right now, but that's okay. It will work another time.”

The emotions on Yoojung’s face shifted too fast for Kyubin to catch up. “No, fuck that. We're doing this now. Go lie down, my knees are sore after yesterday.”

“Wait, you-” He paused when Yoojung’s impatient hands already got to undoing his belt. “You still want to do this?”

"That was the plan, so that's what we're doing.”

He watched as Yoojung tried to clumsily pry the leather strip out of the buckle, the previous night’s smoothness nowhere to be seen. Some parts of his body responded to the suggestion, tickled by the memory of how good it felt to be inside Yoojung’s mouth, and the fact that he was able to conjure up the image of Yoojung's face between his legs so soon after his dream imploded sent such a violent shiver of discomfort through his body that he took a big step back. “Then let's call off this plan and make a new one."

“Why?" Yoojung asked sharply. Despite the tone of his voice, his expression looked panicked, and Kyubin rushed to fix that.

“No, nothing. The plan was a good plan, I just-” He took a deep breath, trying to quickly sort through his thoughts. “I understand that you want to put it all behind you as quickly as possible, but you’re clearly still shaken up. If you want to pretend none of that happened, that’s fine, we can pretend, but-”

“Just say what you wanna say,” Yoojung interrupted. Everything about him was tense, his mouth set in a thin line, his eyes puffy, still a little red, and all Kyubin wanted was to wrap him in a blanket and pet his hair until he fell asleep.

He gently brushed his fingers along Yoojung’s forearm. “I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

He hoped to see relief on Yoojung’s face, some proof that his suspicions were correct and that Yoojung wasn't really doing this for his own pleasure, merely out of some misguided idea that he had to distract Kyubin from the vulnerability he’d shown, make up for the mess on his shirt, or even worse - apologize for it all. Instead, he heard a laugh that reminded him of some of the worst nights of listening to Junhyung’s semi-coherent tales of heartbreak.

“Wow, okay. You can just say you don’t want it, no need to make up excuses.”

Kyubin stared at him as if he could see into Yoojung’s mind and understand why it felt like both of them were having a different conversation. Something about this felt deeply wrong in a way he couldn’t articulate, but Yoojung's expression grew more upset the longer he kept quiet, so in a surge of panic, he grabbed his shoulders and pushed away the gut feeling. “Are you certain that giving me a blowjob is going to make you feel better?”

“Fuck’s sake, this isn't about a blowjob.” Yoojung wriggled out of his hold, looking like he needed to be anywhere else. “Doesn't matter, don’t force yourself. A little snot gets on your shirt and suddenly nothing works as it should.”

“This isn’t about the shirt,” Kyubin protested weakly. “I’m just saying, there must be something else you want to do more than this, right? Maybe have something sweet, watch a movie, or listen to a song? You must have a ritual by now, something that you usually distract yourself with after-” He bit his tongue too late to save Yoojung from the pained look that flicked across his face.

Great job, he thought. The last thing Yoojung needed was another reminder of how many times he'd been in this exact position before. Sometimes Kyubin wished he'd never learnt to speak.

“I'm sorry, that was such a stupid thing to say.” His hand reached forward, but Yoojung turned his back to him.

"Whatever,” he said in a shaky voice. “It's getting late. You should go.”

“No, please, let’s just- You shouldn’t have to end the day like this. Let me do something for you to make it better.”

“Nothing’s gonna make today better. I just need this day to fucking end. I’m going to bed, so leave. Now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kyubin sighed, feeling like he’d officially become the biggest disappointment to have ever walked the planet. “I understand. Again, I’m really sorry.”

Yoojung headed for the bathroom. “Yeah, me too.”

“You've got nothing to be sorry for.”

Yoojung paused with his hand on the handle. “You’re right, I don't.” He didn't look in Kyubin's direction at all before locking himself in.

Kyubin stood still with thoughts racing against one another, none even remotely helpful.

He couldn’t make sense of how intending to show someone respect could go sideways this quickly. The assumption that he was protecting Yoojung from some unspecified thing propelling him to go against his body's wants was obviously wrong. There were so many reasons as to why he might have wanted it without actually wanting it, and after getting a glimpse of how difficult navigating intimacy was for him, it was easy for Kyubin to let his imagination go wild. All he knew was that he went wrong somewhere, but the myriad of possible explanations meant nothing until he heard one directly from Yoojung’s lips. And Yoojung was in no state to explain anything to him.

He heard water running in the shower, and all he could think was that there must be something, a gesture, no matter how minute, that would serve as a bandaid precariously placed over a wound he just poked.

He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in hope of finding something sweet to leave at Yoojung’s bedside table, but found nothing of the sort. Before he could start to debate whether almonds or apples were a more appropriate choice of comfort food, he noticed a cup standing on the counter with a box of raspberry tea next to it. The water in the kettle was lukewarm, so Yoojung was about to drink it before something distracted him.

After bringing a steaming cup of tea to Yoojung's bedroom, his eyes fell on the row of plushies with their backs still facing away. He turned them all around one by one, taking a moment to look at each of them. Some were older, more worn out, with half torn off arms and missing noses; others seemed like they just changed their home from a shop window to Yoojung's shelf.

A cream-colored rabbit seemed like the one which had its limbs and ears stitched to the rest of its body the most times, the threads in mismatched colors speaking of its longevity. Kyubin placed it on the pillow, in the spot where his head had rested that morning.

He knew he should stop awkwardly lingering in the flat before Yoojung finished his shower. After all, he'd been explicitly asked to leave, and no helpful words were coming to mind other than clumsy apologies. Every step taken toward the door felt wrong, but he did his best to ignore the unease in his heart before it spurred him to look for another excuse to stay longer.

His head hit the pillow with the memory of Yoojung's kisses palpable on his lips, the shirt in the washing machine and every last trace of tears and snot scrubbed off his body.

In an empty room and an empty bed, with his body at a distance from the situation, regret only intensified.

There was no point in rewriting the past in his imagination, but he still did it. He imagined embracing Yoojung instead of running his mouth and holding him until all tension left his body. He imagined harmony blossoming between them as they tuned into each other’s rhythm, and he imagined whispering words that conveyed his intentions better. You don’t have to try so hard. I'm not someone you have to be cautious of. When you’re with me, you can rest.

He threw the covers away and went to pour himself a drink. The night was bound to be a sleepless one, anyway.

With alcohol circling through his system and the TV long ignored in the background, he pulled up their chat on his phone. He was still out of ideas for what to say. Just a bull in a china shop, but instead of being surrounded by fragile dishes, he was surrounded by words he had to pick carefully so he wouldn't shatter the remains of Yoojung’s positive feelings for him.

Perhaps silence was the key to everything. If he had just shut up, grit his teeth and went along with what Yoojung initiated, it would have been him in Yoojung's arms as he dozed off to sleep, not a plush toy. Knowing himself, the toy he picked probably had some horrible memory attached to it, and only made Yoojung feel worse.

Eventually, he settled on a simple and safe Have a good night.

No response came that night or the next morning, which was understandable. He didn't expect Yoojung to want to see him for at least a few more days until he dealt with the rejection from BlueBlueSeoul. Besides, he sent the text at 2AM, it didn't require a response, and Yoojung was a busy man.

Unfortunately, rational reasoning wasn't enough to stop his eyes from drifting to his phone screen every few minutes, distracted by a slight shift in the reflection that skyrocketed his hopes only to bring them down rapidly.

“Mr. Shin?” the voice of his newest client tore him out of his thoughts. He was an interesting type who showed up with his own calculator and insisted on observing Kyubin as he worked despite being politely informed that it was not his duty at all. “Stay focused, please. You were recommended to me because apparently you’re trustworthy, but all I’m seeing now is that you’re easily distracted. I can’t afford any more mishaps, is that clear? I already lost a fortune on the previous guy I hired.”

Well, that at least answered one of Kyubin’s concerns. Too bad it was the one he cared the least about.

He forced his mind to stay on track until the client decided he was satisfied enough to make a permanent deal, and by the end of the meeting, it felt like eight hours had passed instead of one.

When work came to an end, he looked out the window at the spots of light in the darkness. Somewhere over there, Yoojung was counting down the minutes till the end of his shift while serving up a coffee or wiping down a table.

If the previous day was hard for him, how much worse must he feel at that moment, having to work with a smile forced onto his face for the sake of people whose gazes hold no trace of sympathy? Maybe seeing a friendly face at the end of such a day would make him feel a little better.

Then again, Kyubin really didn't want to upset him any further, so maybe it was better not to take the risk.

He headed to the gym after work to clear his head, but ended up leaving with a bruised thigh after allowing his distracted state of mind to interrupt his tempo and send him right off a treadmill into the nearest bench.

The unanswered Have a good night haunted him for a few more days, gradually instilling more and more worry at the lack of response. It would have been much easier to deal with this silent treatment had he not been plagued by the thought that he put a permanent crack into something fundamental to their connection. The longer he replayed Yoojung’s words and expressions in his head, the more distorted they became, until he couldn’t tell where Yoojung’s real intentions ended and his own warped interpretations began.

Perhaps the issue was the text itself. If he wrote something in the form of a question, he might have a better shot at receiving an answer.

How are you? He hit backspace immediately. No use asking that, obviously he wasn't fine.

Can I see you tomorrow? That also got erased. If Yoojung wanted to see him, he would tell him.

Is there anything I can do for you? Yes, leave him alone, probably.

In the end, all he wrote was Have a good night.

When he didn't get a response, he sent it again the following night, and the next, and the next, and by then, he decided he was justified in feeling extremely concerned.

This isn’t about me, he told himself for the n-th time to break the loop of worried thoughts, poking and prodding at various insecurities. This isn't about me. This isn't about us. This is about him focusing on himself, and I have no right to take that personally.

He threw his phone onto the empty half of the bed. The screen soon went dark, leaving only a dim light coming from the window to disperse the late night shadows.

He fell back into the habit of staying at work late in the past few days. It was the only way to delay the moment when he would find himself alone with his thoughts and anxieties, but it was useless when he couldn't even fall asleep at night. Perhaps it was high time to consult with a doctor about an increase in the prescribed dose of melatonin, because he was not about to lose all the progress he’d made in the realm of self-care just because Yoojung was giving him the silent treatment. He promised himself he wouldn't do that, and he was sticking to it.

He got out of bed and assumed the plank position on the floor to tire himself out. “This. Isn’t. About. Me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, over and over until his muscles ached and sweat dripped down his forehead. Even once his arms gave out, his mind was not letting him rest.

One of the cookies baked by Yoojung was still in his kitchen, getting riskier to consume by the day. He took a bite out of it, following it up with another before he could swallow the first, refusing to wallow in the thought that this might be the last of Yoojung's bakes he'd get to taste.

Everything in his apartment looked hostile on nights like this, down to the size of the kitchen table. He resented himself for purchasing the place and every item in it with the intention of having more than one person permanently live there. Years have passed, and the walls stayed white and bare, waiting for someone to fill them up with a color of their liking and photos from shared holidays. The second closet stayed empty, so did a bunch of shelves, even an entire room he assumed one day would have to be turned into a nursery.

He used to find freedom in all this empty space at first. Then, it became a little bothersome. Now, he could conjure up a detailed picture of a person he’d like to share the table with, and the emptiness was unbearable.

There was only one meal he learned that Yoojung liked. One meal, one dessert, one hot drink. They really should have eaten breakfast together the one time they had the chance.

He crumpled the paper wrapping in his fist as he chewed the final bite.

What if he was making a mistake by passively agreeing to this silent distance? A few words of apology in the heat of the moment obviously weren't enough. Yoojung was probably rolling his eyes at those silly good night texts, and wondering why Kyubin wasn’t doing anything more meaningful to make it up to him.

Even if reaching out meant putting the fragile balance of their relationship at a more severe risk, he had to do it. Clear rejection was better than the never-ceasing anxiety.

The next day, he finally constructed a text that had substance.

07:43 PM Hey. I’m done with work. Would you like to have ice cream together before the heatwave is over?

The bus rolled outside of Ultimate Bliss before any response came. He craned his neck to peek inside, but the familiar head of hair was nowhere to be seen, neither in the café nor anywhere near the ice cream truck.

Before he thought through what he was doing, he was standing on the sidewalk as the bus door closed behind him. Worry and alcohol had similar side effects, as it turned out.

Upon opening the door to the café, the first thing he noticed was the music. It was fast-paced and bright with a predictable melody; nothing like what Yoojung ever played.

“Hello, what can I do for you today?” an unfamiliar voice recited the phrase. When Kyubin didn't let go of the door and kept staring at the short-haired girl with black lipstick standing where Yoojung normally stood, she raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Are you coming in or not?”

“Uh, yes, yes I am. Sorry, I thought- I've only ever come here while Yoojung had his shift, so I didn't expect to see anyone else.”

“Because I’m not meant to be working past one,” she said, not hiding her irritation. “College starts in a few days, and I couldn't even go on the trip people in my year organized thanks to him.”

Kyubin stepped closer to the counter. “Have you been filling in for him the whole day?”

“If only. I've been filling in for him the whole week since he decided to stop showing up.”

“Is he sick?” Kyubin asked, unable to hide his worry. “Did he go on a vacation? What’s going on with him?”

She gave him a look that felt condescending even though she was roughly half his size and age. “How the hell would I know?”

Kyubin grit his teeth. “Is your boss here? Can I ask him?”

“He's got more important things on his mind than giving intel to stalkers.”

“I- what? I'm not a stalker! Do I look like a stalker?”

She shrugged. “I don't know, I've never seen a stalker before. Unless I have and didn't know it. A good stalker wouldn't be easy to spot.”

Kyubin sighed. “Yoojung is my friend. I know it might not look like it under the circumstances, but the only reason I'm asking you and not him is because he hasn't been responding to my texts. So, do you know anything? Anything at all?”

She seemed to consider something for a moment. “You’re actually not the first person to ask about him. Two guys came in here a few days ago, said they’re doing some dance thing together and they can't reach him. Apparently this isn’t the first time he’s disappeared without a word. I asked our boss why he'd keep someone like that employed, and he said he earns the most during Yoojung’s shifts. I swear, if I ever have to write an essay on pretty privilege, I'll use him as my primary case study.” Her face stretched with a fake smile. “On that note, I'm not pretty enough to risk my job, so I'll stop there. Can I interest you in a piece of blueberry cake?”

“No, thank you. You can have it.” He slipped a few bills into the tip jar, hoping that a treat at the end of a difficult week would make her feel a bit better.

She bowed her head, looking at him a lot more approvingly. “When you see him, tell him he owes me at least two weeks of morning shifts.”

The perspective of having to bring Yoojung news of more work wasn’t one he looked forward to, but he’d rather hear Yoojung complain than not hear from him at all. “I will.”

Leaving Ultimate Bliss with even more on his mind that he came in with was not the outcome he had hoped for.

The bus that went in his apartment’s direction rounded the corner, but he didn’t rush onto the stop just yet. He began to type in the name of Yoojung's dance studio into the search bar with the intention to find the location and get some information out of his friends, but he paused before he could click on the first result. If Yoojung had been contacting his friends but not him, that drew a very clear boundary. Even if his friends were willing to divulge information, he wouldn't blame Yoojung if he was upset by him trying to snoop behind his back.

His phone began to ring, and his heart rate skyrocketed before he read the name on the screen.

He picked up and greeted Junhyung while doing his best not to sound disappointed. “Hey, what's going on?”

“I got bored of fucking up these sweet potato pancakes and one of them kind of looks like you, so here I am, calling you.”

“Alright,” Kyubin drawled, finding that his mind was more at ease than a few seconds ago. “I'll ignore the latter half and just ask what's gotten you into cooking all of a sudden.”

“It’s something Sungho used to eat a lot as a kid, and I'm trying out being thoughtful these days. How am I doing?”

“If you manage to get at least one of them right, I’m sure he'll be pleased. Is he with you now?”

“No, but we're seeing each other tomorrow. How are things on your end? With Yoojung, obviously, that's the most interesting part of your life.”

Kyubin snorted, but couldn’t disagree. He gave Ultimate Bliss one last look before heading back, hoping a walk would clear his head a bit. “In some ways, much better than last time the two of us spoke. We've, uh. We've consummated the relationship, as kids these days say.”

“No way, you did?” Junhyung mumbled with his mouth full. “Good job on fucking the blondie, old man! I wish you both give each other orgasms till death do you part.”

“Ugh,” Kyubin groaned. “Please, let this not be a segue into talking about your and Sungho’s sex life, because I don't want to know anything.”

“Good, because I'm not gonna tell you anything.”

“Oh?” Kyubin raised his eyebrows. “What's that about?”

“Privacy and trust. Another thing I'm learning. Look at me go.”

“Hm, I see. And for the sake of balance, is there anything that Sungho is learning?”

He could imagine the bitter half-smile on Junhyung's face as he said, “He’s learning to put up with me. The hardest challenge of all.”

“That I have to disagree with.”

“Ask anyone who’s been in my company longer than three hours at a time, and they’ll tell you that putting up with me is real hard work.” His tone shifted from pensive to excited too fast not to be somewhat faked. “But let's talk about you, I wanna interrogate you. You said things are better in some ways, so what about those other ways?”

Too many things came to Kyubin's mind. He swallowed the more personal and irrational fears, and said, “Life's gotten a bit complicated for him after the audition results came.”

“Shit, he didn't get in? That sucks. Sungho got in, but he's not taking it.”

Kyubin stopped in his tracks out of shock. “What? Then why did he audition?”

“To try something new.”

“I’m sorry, to try-” He stopped before his bafflement could distract him from the more pressing matter. “Congratulations to him, I guess. Do you think it's possible they'd take in Yoojung as a replacement? Because this is far more important to him. It's his dream job.”

“Dunno, man, contact them. How's Yoojung doing now? Sungho didn’t mention anything.”

“Last time I saw him, he wasn’t doing well. I haven’t heard back from him in two weeks, though, so I can only hope he’s-”

“Wait, am I hearing you right?” Junhyung cut in. “He’s been ghosting you for two weeks?! And before you say anything about me being a hypocrite for finding this outrageous, shush.”

“It's not ghosting when it also includes other people in his life, I'm pretty sure. He clearly just needs some time. I'm fine with waiting for him, but I don’t know how much more silence I can stand before I-” He pressed his lips tightly together before he could say have another panic attack, just in case he could stop it from happening if he didn’t acknowledge it as a possibility. “I just wish I knew how to fix things instead of making them worse.”

“Food,” Junhyung said right away. “Always fix things with food.”

Kyubin checked the chat in case he missed a message, but of course, he saw nothing new. “I don’t know if food is enough in this case.” He hesitated before confessing, “I think I really messed up, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Spill.”

“I don't know how much I can tell you. He doesn't talk about his past much, but I sometimes get glimpses of how it affected him. I can see he's been hurt, but all I can do is guess what's the best way to go about it.” He looked around to make sure nobody was nearby. “I thought not wanting to have sex with him right after his dream came crashing down made me a decent guy, but it really upset him."

Junhyung sucked air in through his teeth in a way one does after stubbing their toe. “Ouch, I bet that hurt.”

"It's not great,” Kyubin admitted.

“No, dude, I mean him. You're saying you turned him down right after he found out his dream job rejected him? If I was him, I'd be pissed.”

Kyubin felt frustration rise up that everybody seemed to misunderstand his intentions. “He was tipsy, heartbroken and distressed.”

“Exactly!” Junhyung exclaimed like what Kyubin said was obvious. “That’s when you need that messy, horrible sex that leaves you regretting all your life choices.”

Kyubin frowned. “And how does that fix anything?"

"It’s not about fixing anything, it's about feeling your feelings before you get to fixing. Like fucking a stranger to get over a break up, you know?”

“But we’re not strangers. There are bigger consequences when we make a bad decision. I can’t make him distrust me by putting him through something so messed up.”

Junhyung sighed with exasperation. "Dude, he was asking you to put him through it. Going along with someone else's mess is just what you do sometimes. I bet it did wonders for his self-esteem when you made him feel like his mess is too much for you.”

Kyubin's heart sank to his stomach at those words. He knew Junhyung was projecting his own experiences onto the situation, but it didn’t help when every memory of that day was already rearranging around this new possible understanding; every fluctuation in Yoojung's mood, every touch that felt needful rather than wanting, every look that made Kyubin feel like his response was essential to some part of Yoojung staying unharmed.

“You okay there?” Junhyung asked, sounding more sympathetic. “Did your whole life just flash before your eyes?”

“Something like that,” Kyubin sighed. “At least now I understand what the silent treatment is all about. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either if I was him. Maybe this is better. This isn’t- he deserves so much better than this.”

“Shut up,” Junhyung interrupted in a gravely serious voice. “I'm not letting you think this way. He's lucky to have you, and if he doesn't appreciate you, I'll find you someone better. And who knows, maybe this thing with Sungho will blow up in my face soon, and we'll both be in the same boat. Chrome Hearts has been missing their two favorite clients for a while.”

For the first time in days, Kyubin felt a genuine sense of relief. Even if all of this imploded and he ended up with the first real heartbreak of his life, he wouldn't be entirely alone. He could still call Junhyung up, drown his worries in alcohol and hook up with someone whose touch would push him to a messy breakdown halfway through because it wasn’t right, it wasn’t warm, it wasn’t him.

He cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet Yoojung properly before that happens.”

“Yeah, I’d like you to properly meet Sungho too. I want him to like you.”

Kyubin recalled a blurry memory of Sungho’s odd behavior toward him. “I did get the impression that he's not fond of me, but I have no idea why.”

“He doesn't dislike you, it's not personal. He's just finding it hard to believe that we're not secretly fucking.”

Kyubin spluttered. “I’m sorry, us?! Why would he ever think that?”

“Because of the scorching sexual tension between us, obviously,” Junhyung said dryly.

“Right.” Sensing that he wouldn't receive an honest answer, he said, “Listen, neither of us is doing anything wrong. He will have to start trusting you eventually.”

“I don't know what else I can do to convince him. I keep telling him he's enough, more than enough, but I always end up saying something wrong, and I fuck it up. Why do I suck at this so much?” His voice was stripped from all the layers of humor and confidence, something that Kyubin wasn’t privy to often. Especially while Junhyung was sober. “Seriously, why is it so hard not to hurt someone who means so much to me?”

Kyubin sighed. “When you find out, please, let me know.”

Finding BlueBlueSeoul’s business email was easy enough. Constructing a short, urgent message inquiring about the free spot and what they intend to do about it also wasn't difficult.

The difficult part came after he pressed Send and realized everything from that point was entirely out of his hands. Even an hour of experiencing this helplessness was excruciating, and Yoojung had been living with it everyday for years. He could barely begin to imagine how unbearable it must have been to feel it grow, have it fed a little more each time until failure seemed inevitable only to have his worst expectations proven correct again and again.

That thought directed Kyubin's feet in the direction of the ramen shop, and then all the way to Yoojung's front door.

Pressing number 7 on the intercom didn’t warrant a reaction. Before he could give up and resign himself to yet another restless night, an elderly tenant came back from shopping and agreed to let him in if Kyubin carried the heavy bags up to the last floor.

He rang Yoojung’s doorbell once and waited. After the second ring didn’t work either, he set down the plastic bag and texted:

09:23 PM I'm outside your door with two bowls of ramen (one with extra pork!), but it seems you're not home. In case you're not far away, I'm leaving it here. I hope you're holding up okay and will get to it before a neighbor steals it.

Perhaps pointlessly so, he returned the next morning. The bag was gone, so whoever took it, they at least had a good meal.

He didn't ring the doorbell this time, just placed the bag in the same spot.

07:34 AM I see that yesterday's portion didn't go to waste. I can only hope you got to it first and will do so today as well. If not, I hope you're eating well wherever you are.

He crossed only a few steps on his way down when his phone buzzed, and he clutched his pocket tightly. Please be Yoojung, please be Yoojung. He grabbed the railing to prepare himself for the worst and looked at the screen.

07:35 AM Thank you for being a frequent customer! Make sure to leave a positive rating and rev…

He swiped the notification away angrily, feeling like the universe was just making a joke out of him at that point. His frustration reached a point where it began to manifest as a physical pain in his chest, and for a few seconds, he was seized by the fear that what happened that night wasn't a one time occurance, that he would have to deal with frequent panic attacks all over again.

After a few deep breaths, he heaved a sigh of relief when he recognized what this feeling really was. He simply ached for a dose of something that could null the deeper, less accessible ache for at least a short moment with one deep, warming inhale. Had he had a cigarette on him, he would have given into the temptation without a second thought.

Somewhere nearby, a door handle made a harsh squeak, and Kyubin whipped his head around to find its source. A sharp pain shot through the neck as he stared at the person staring right back at him, one foot over the threshold, hand reaching toward the bag.

For a second, Kyubin was petrified that he entered the wrong building and was bothering some other long-haired blond who just so happened to live under number 7. Then the initial shock faded, and every element of Yoojung's appearance arranged into someone recognizable.

There wasn't a lot about him that was different. His hair was straight, so it seemed longer, and it missed its signature bounce and luster. He didn’t look sick, but he didn’t look entirely healthy either, and there was something unsettlingly vacant in his gaze.

Then, he blinked - an action so basic and innocuous that it made no sense for Kyubin to deduct anything from it, but somehow, as he watched Yoojung force his eyelids back up as if that simple motion caused enormous strain, he understood everything.

“Hi,” the word left his lips before his legs remembered how to move.

“Hi,” Yoojung replied as the gap in the door grew ever thinner, and that was when Kyubin’s body jumped into action.

“Wait,” he pleaded as he crossed the distance and slipped his hand into the gap. “Hear me out, please.”

“Now isn't a good time.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically hoarse, but not like he had a sore throat. It was more like he hadn’t spoken in a while and his vocal cords were trying to remember how they’re supposed to work.

“I'll get going in a second, I just- I'm really glad to see you. I'm glad you're the one picking up the meals I buy. And I’m sorry for… well, for all the ways in which I messed up.” There was so much more he wanted to say, so many words swirling and intermixing in his head, but nothing with the potential to leave his mouth as a coherent sentence. He just clutched the doorframe in hope that Yoojung still liked his hands enough to keep them at one with the rest of his body, and held his breath in anticipation. When his lungs began to beg him for oxygen, he had to ask, “Please, can you just say something? Anything?”

He felt Yoojung’s hand on his, and his tight grip relaxed automatically as he pressed into the familiar, comforting warmth. Then the touch disappeared and the door shut.

The clicking of the lock was an utmost mocking goodbye as it felt him with a strange amalgamate of emotions: worry and relief, understanding and confusion. He hadn’t even realized that a small part of him had been scared that Yoojung disappeared altogether, like August coming to an end meant the end of the dizzying summer dream that was time spent with him. But he was there, whole and breathing. Maybe he wasn’t fine, but still. He was there.

By the time he arrived at work, his mind was still consumed by that single blink. It wasn’t really the blink itself that concerned him, but the expression of apathy surrounding it. There was something painfully familiar about it. He'd seen it countless times in mirrors, windows, dark screens, anything that forced him to reckon with his own reflection. It hadn’t even been that long since this look was a permanent feature of his face.

He remembered being in that mindset all too well. How hard it was to care about the simple things, how much he wanted for someone else to care more than he was able to. Forget being a six-year-old on the verge of tears. What hurt far more was going home as an adult and not receiving a single benevolent word, not even a question about how he was doing that wasn’t ultimately about work or hypothetical offspring. And then he met someone who cared enough to help him see a way out.

Now, a choice stood in front of him - to ignore what he saw, accept that Yoojung wasn’t him and had different needs which he clearly wasn’t inclined to share, or to continue reaching out. It wasn’t a hard choice at all. He cared too much already, and he wouldn’t know how to stifle it even if he tried. He could show Yoojung that he cared enough for the two of them.

After yet another meeting with a client proved to be disastrous due to his distracted state, he went up to the balcony.

“Hello,” he called when he spotted a familiar uniform. The janitor turned around to greet him, and the cloud of smoke around him snapped Kyubin’s senses into alertness. “Excuse me, Mr. Kim, would you happen to have a…”

“I do, of course I do,” the man said as he patted various pockets of his uniform. “Ah! There it is.” He glanced into the packet and frowned. “The last one, what a sacrifice. I’ll give it to you if you replace it for me.”

“I will.” Kyubin broke out into a sprint and placed the cigarette in his mouth the second he got to it, claiming that little piece of heaven for himself.

“How long has it been?” Mr. Kim asked as he took out his lighter. “Two weeks?”

With a prickle of shame which he promptly ignored, Kyubin answered, “It would have been twenty-five days tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s nothing. I quit for seven years after my son was born. My wife insisted that we raise a healthy kid, so I gave it a shot. Seven years pass, then what happens? Our son goes to school and starts getting in trouble, and my mother-in-law’s health gets worse. The stress gets to my wife, so she starts smoking. Now look at us both.”

“What about your son? Also a smoker?”

Mr. Kim grinned. “He's a doctor, if you can believe. Treats patients with lung cancer. Makes me and my wife very proud. Did I ever tell you I studied to be a doctor as well?”

Kyubin shook his head.

“Hard to believe, I know, but I did. Never finished my studies.” He coughed, or maybe that was what his laugh sounded like. Kyubin could never be sure. “You know what he told me recently? My son? He said the thing that's motivated him his whole life was to outdo everything his parents have ever achieved. I can't call him an ungrateful bastard with a clear conscience since he's doing good for people, but I never wanted to slap him across the face more.”

Kyubin stared at the smoldering tip thoughtfully. “I find myself doing that recently. I think of what my parents have done or would want me to do, and I do the opposite.”

Mr. Kim made a noise that expressed either understanding or surprise. “I’ve been going against my father my whole life. He was a drunkard and a bastard who deserved nothing from nobody. All kids like to feel they're better than their parents.”

“That’s good, I think. Improvement is good.”

Mr. Kim clasped Kyubin's shoulder. “You’ll see how it feels when it's your own kid doing this to you. Although you never mentioned one, did you? Do you have a kid?”

“No, I don't.”

“Hm. Wife?”

“I'm… still dating around.”

Mr. Kim gave him a once-over. “Right, you’re one of the lucky ones who don't have to hurry with settling down. Even in ten years time there will be younger ladies willing to carry a kid for you.”

Kyubin quickly looked to the other side to hide his grimace. The taste of smoke on his tongue wasn't thrilling anymore, just bitter. He didn't know what possessed him to say, “I'll never have a kid.”

Mr. Kim cackled and flicked the rest of his cigarette into the trash can. “Everyone who's ever said that ended up with an accidental child. Word of advice? Don't sleep with any woman you wouldn't marry if it came down to it.”

Kyubin bit his tongue before he could say something sarcastic and betray how ridiculous and draining he found the turn their conversation took. Mr. Kim was a lot easier to talk to than his father, but neither of the two were someone he wished to talk with longer than a few minutes. It seemed that the only people in his life he truly enjoyed talking to were younger. Probably something to do with the fact that none of them expected him to catch up to how they had structured their lives, they only ever broadened his horizons.

He went up to the balcony again after work, this time with chewing gum in his mouth and a new resolve to get his non-smoking streak back. His thumb hovered over Junhyung's name on the contact list, but he didn't press on it. It wasn't really Junhyung he wanted to talk to, anyway. The only reason he was even considering calling him was that the chance of Junhyung picking up was higher.

He looked over at the spot where he and Yoojung had kissed two weeks before, longing wrapping around his chest. He laid down and took out his phone to stare at the sad picture that his and Yoojung’s chat painted again, filled up with green bubbles, void of gray. The last photo Yoojung texted him was of himself in a state of acted out arousal, and it made no sense for this picture to make Kyubin’s throat feel tight all of a sudden. He missed Yoojung, plain and simple. He missed his voice, his eyes, his hands, the warmth radiating from his smile. What was worse, he even missed Yoojung holding onto him as he sobbed.

Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed Record message and stared at the volume indicators wiggling up and down in accordance with his breathing.

“Uh, hey,” he started, making the thin, black lines reach their maximum height. "Hi. You must be wondering what this is about. So am I, to be honest. I know you've got a lot on your mind right now. That's probably why I’m doing this. Whenever I have a lot on my mind, talking to you makes everything feel easier. I understand that you don't feel the same about me, I really do, but… I still want you to know that I think about you and worry about you. I wish I could help you in some way. Not being able to help you is actual torture.” He released a shaky breath, and words began to spill out uncontrollably, amplified by the fact that nobody was listening to him in real time. “Listen, I know I'm not good at this. I try to be helpful, and all I do is fall flat on my face. I get why you wouldn’t want to contact me when you need something, but I still wish you would. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know. Right now, it’s hard to tell the difference between doing something for you and for myself. Frankly, I'm a bit of a mess these days. I have no idea where we're heading. I just hope you're still willing to give me a shot. I want to learn how to make you feel okay. I want to make you smile. Is that also selfish to say? I want you to smile regardless of who causes it, but I won't lie, there is no better feeling than to be the one making you smile.” He chuckled as a shiver of embarrassment ran through him. “This got weird, I’m sorry. I don't know if I want you to listen to this. I kind of hope you will. I just need you to know that I'm here for you. That's all. I'm sorry for this entire message.”

He pressed Send before he could allow himself to think about it, keen to put it all behind him.

When his phone buzzed a few minutes later, he almost decided not to reach for it to avoid the inevitable disappointment. Whether it was Junhyung or another stupid notification, he did not trust himself not to have a small breakdown if he saw anything but Yoojung’s name on the screen.

Eventually, he braced himself and looked at the screen where the picture of Yoojung in his practice room still resided as his background.

10:12 PM I miss you

He stared at the bubble until the screen went black, then pressed the side button immediately to make sure this wasn’t some trick of his exhausted brain. Then, Yoojung's photo took up the whole screen with his name written at the top, and Kyubin leaped up to his feet as he answered the call.

“Hi,” he exhaled.

“Hi,” Yoojung replied quietly. “How are you?”

A relieved and utterly confused laugh shook Kyubin’s chest. “I'm… good, I guess. I'd rather hear an answer to that from you. How are you?”

“Fine.” If Kyubin hadn’t been focusing on every rustle coming from the other end like it was gospel, he would have missed Yoojung's breathy, “I’m sorry.”

Protests welled up in his throat at how unfair it was for Yoojung to be apologizing, but he couldn't deny that the tense feeling in his chest disappeared after hearing those two simple words. “It’s okay. What are you sorry for?”

“Today. All the days.” His voice wasn't as hoarse as in the morning, but it was still different from how he usually spoke. It was slower, monotone, like he was indifferent toward each and every word. Once again, Kyubin understood. “I don't have a good explanation for this. At first I just needed a few days to process everything, and now… Now I'm not in the mood to be around people at all.”

“That’s fine, take as much time as you need. I won't bother you anymore, I promise. No more surprise visits and recorded messages. I should stop with those good night texts as well, they were- they were a weird idea.”

“Oh.” Either Kyubin's imagination had gone really wild, or Yoojung sounded disappointed. “I didn't mean… No, you're right. Makes no sense for you to keep texting if I never reply.”

“I could keep texting you,” Kyubin suggested cautiously. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don't know.” He paused before saying, “I read them, you know. I just don't know how to respond.”

"Anything would've been fine. Anything at all."

"You deserve better than anything."

Kyubin clutched his phone tighter. "Silence wasn't better.”

"I know,” Yoojung whispered. “I'm sorry. I thought that if I called you, I'd finally come up with a good explanation, but my mind's still blank.”

“I don't need an explanation. I know I said some dramatic things in my message, but I don't need anything you can't offer right now. I just- I’m not handling this very well. Being avoided by you like this.”

“I'm not handling avoiding you very well either,” Yoojung admitted. “And I don't enjoy hurting you. I know how bad that sounds.”

“I know you don’t enjoy it,” Kyubin told him softly. “You have no idea how grateful I am for this call. I’ll be here whenever you feel like meeting up. Right now, take all the time you need to focus on yourself, and then keep on conquering the world like you always do.”

Yoojung's deep sigh would have been soothing to the ears if it wasn't so heavy. “Kyubin.”

“Yes?”

“Kyubin. Don’t hang up. Please.”

“I'm not.” He waited for Yoojung to speak his part, but when no words came, he asked, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything. You. Just talk about anything.”

Kyubin forced his brain to come up with anything remotely interesting. “I’m not sure where to start. I'm on the company balcony right now. The view is the same as it was when you saw it, starless sky and all. It actually does feel starless now that I’m up here alone again.” He closed his eyes, trying to block out all the reminders of how much space there was between the two of them. “You said loneliness makes sense up here, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Well, it doesn't. It doesn’t make sense to miss you while I’m talking to you. Everything feels so much less dull when you’re next to me, and I've been trying not to let the dullness get to me, but it's hard. Sorry, why am I making this about myself?”

“Because I asked you to,” Yoojung reminded him. “So don't stop. I wanna be in your head for a bit. See the world through your eyes.”

“Oh,” Kyubin said under his breath. For a moment, it felt like the distance between them didn’t exist at all. “I told you the sky didn’t feel starless when you were here. What I haven’t told you is that there were other times when something ordinary felt special because of you. That night when I was in your bedroom for the first time, I felt it as well. Everything around us was so cozy and warm. It looked the way that being around you feels, if that makes sense. I never really understood how impressionist painters decided which colors expressed the feelings they wanted to convey, but I understood it then. That night was made up of warm colors only.”

“Do you think there will ever be another night as warm as that one?” Yoojung asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kyubin answered immediately. “I have no doubt that there are warm nights ahead of us.”

“No doubt?”

“None. The world seen through my eyes is made up of warm colors and warm nights only.”

“Why are you so far away?” Yoojung asked with a vulnerable shake in his voice.

A wave of something intense yet tender rose up inside Kyubin. “I could be closer if you want me to be.”

“No, uh- no. This is good. This is enough. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Okay.” The silence droned on for about a minute before Kyubin dared to say, “So… is this good night?”

“No, wait. I just… I should at least say a proper thank you. You've been so nice. You remembered my favorite order and brought it to my door.”

“That’s nothing,” Kyubin said humbly. “Just the bare minimum. Would you like another delivery tomorrow morning? It can be anything you want. The only reason I’ve been buying you ramen is because that’s the only meal I know you like.”

“Ramen is fine. Thanks. Now it’s good night.”

Kyubin closed his eyes, imagining that the rough concrete beneath his palms was soft cotton, and the gentle wind had slipped in through Yoojung’s window to caress their faces and rustle their hair. “Good night. Dream only of warm colors.”

The queue in the ramen shop held Kyubin back by twenty minutes, making him late for work before he even got off at Yoojung's stop. He announced his presence by knocking instead of ringing on the off chance Yoojung was still asleep.

The quarter of a minute it took for the door to open felt like a millisecond in comparison to all the waiting he'd done before, and relief washed over him in an instant.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly.

The gap in the door was thin, allowing him to see only a bit of the wall before Yoojung emerged slowly. Despite how warm the morning was, he had a hood pulled over his head, and his eyes were directed at the floor, chin tilted down. “Hi.”

Kyubin pointed to the hood. “Do you have a cold? Because if you need medicine, I can-”

“I’m fine,” Yoojung interrupted, his hand already reaching for the bag. “Thanks again.”

“Wait,” Kyubin clutched the plastic strip tighter. “Are you going to disappear the second I give this to you?”

“I don't know.” He took his hand back and leaned his weight against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Probably.”

“Alright.” Kyubin extended the bag to him. “Then I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy your meal.”

Yoojung accepted the gift, but didn't disappear into his flat. His fingers toyed with the strap for a moment before he asked, “How was your night?”

“Good, it was good. Yours too, I hope?”

“It was fine.” He focused on a bit of flaky paint coming off the doorframe and began to scratch it off.

Up close, he looked even more tired than the day before, although there were no dark circles under his eyes. His face appeared a bit more puffy than usual, and a faint trace of hair growing on his upper lip pointed to a couple days of self-neglect. When he moved his head, a greasy strand of hair slipped out from beneath his hood, solving the mystery of why he would wear it on such a warm day.

Kyubin absent-mindedly reached forward to tuck it back into place, but Yoojung flinched. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” He pulled his hand back immediately, disoriented by the reaction. “I was just trying to fix your hair, is that- Should I have asked?”

Yoojung hid the strand of hair under his hood. “Not now.”

“Okay. Sorry. I won't do that again.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and every second made Kyubin grow more and more antsy. Everything about Yoojung's body language and tone of voice pointed to a disinterest in continuing the conversation, but he still wasn't making a move to go back inside. It made Kyubin feel like whatever words came out of his mouth, their impact on where their relationship stood would be irreversible, and it made him twice as nervous to say anything at all.

“Well, uh,” he interrupted the silence before the awkwardness reached critical levels. “I’m already running late, but… is there anything you need me to do?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, anything at all. Take out the trash? Buy groceries? Wash the dishes?”

Yoojung stopped ogling the doorframe to give him a wary look. “Are you for real right now?”

“Yes, of course. Why would I joke about this?”

“Cause it's all simple shit. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can, but… have you?”

He hoped Yoojung would read from his face that this was a sympathetic question based on his own experience, but the coldness in Yoojung’s voice told him otherwise. “None of your business.”

“Right, of course,” Kyubin said quickly. “I'm probably not at the top of your list for this kind of stuff, right? No, of course, why would I be? You have your friends, they understand what you need way better than I do.”

Even as he said it, something inside of him protested. There were things reserved for just the two of them that Yoojung's friends couldn't give him. They couldn't cover him in soft gestures and kind whispers until his world started to warm up again. Why wasn't he asking for it? He finally had Kyubin right in front of him, he said he missed him, so why wasn't he grabbing this opportunity to shatter the ice that had gathered between them? “Is there really nothing more you want from me?” Kyubin asked, hearing the hint of desperation in his own voice. “Because I can take the day off, and we could spend it however you want.”

Yoojung looked as if even thinking about continuing the conversation was wearing him out. “You’re late, and I also gotta get ready.”

That took Kyubin by surprise. “You’re going to work today?”

“Why not?” Yoojung asked dryly and returned to glaring at the chipping paint. “Do I look like that much of a disaster?”

“No, sorry, I didn't mean- You look fine. I’m glad you’re feeling up to it.” He hesitated. “I have a message to pass on from your coworker. I think it's better if you hear it now than when you're already there.”

Yoojung’s nails halted on the frame. “You talked to my coworker?”

“Yes, two days ago. She told me she wants you to take over her shifts for a while. Two weeks, I think she said. But if you don't feel up to it, I could ask around for someone who wants to make a little extra money and could fill in for her instead. What do you think about that?”

Yoojung’s eyes burned holes in the door frame until he sighed heavily, and suddenly it looked like he hadn't slept in a week. “Can you please just go?”

“Yeah,” Kyubin said resignedly, mentally berating himself for every single one of his choices which led to Yoojung looking so exhausted. It was a talent to leave the man he cared for in a worse mood than he found him in, and it was not a talent he was glad to possess. “I’m going. Have a nice day. Call me if you need anything.”

He did not expect Yoojung to contact him for at least another week, so when his phone began to buzz a few hours later, just as he was opening his fly at the urinal, his pulse sped up out of fear rather than excitement.

He answered the call with trembling hands. “Yoojung, hey, is everything-”

“Are you mad at me?” Yoojung interrupted.

“What? Mad at you? No, not at all.” He locked himself in the nearest stall, needing something that would at least give an illusion of privacy and make it easier to gather his thoughts. Once he had a steady door behind his back, he took a calming breath and asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” There was a pause before Yoojung asked, “I'm confusing you, aren't I?”

Kyubin opened his mouth to protest, but he found himself incapable of vocalizing a lie of that magnitude. The awkwardness when they stood face to face was disconcerting enough, so to hear Yoojung speak to him in a softer voice, the same voice he used over the phone the previous night, was giving him whiplash. “Maybe you're confusing me a little, yes.”

“Sorry. I don't know how to not be confusing right now.”

“That's okay.”

Yoojung scoffed softly. “No, it's not. You know I was going to lie to you, don't you? I wanted you to think I've been going to work all along.”

“Needing a break is absolutely fine,” Kyubin reassured him. “But it’s embarrassing. Everything about this is embarrassing. I don’t even know how to act when we’re face to face. I just wanna curl up into a ball and disappear.”

Something in Kyubin’s gut twisted. “If my presence makes you that uncomfortable, I won’t show up again.”

Yoojung made a sound that seemed like a really worn out version of a laugh. “But I wanna see you even though it makes me uncomfortable. I wanna talk to you even though we have nothing to talk about. I hate how quiet it can get here sometimes. I hear all the footsteps going up and down the stairs, but nobody ever stops outside my door. Only you did.”

That puzzled Kyubin. “What do you mean, nobody? Didn't your friends from the studio visit you?"

"They don’t even know where I live.”

“But they came to Ultimate Bliss asking about you. They didn't reach out to you afterwards?”

“No, they did not.” There was a trace of something deeply resentful in his voice when he said, “They don't give a fuck about me unless I’m useful to them. Nobody does.”

“I do,” Kyubin protested staunchly.

“I know,” Yoojung whispered, as if it was a secret they were sharing. “Does that make us best friends?”

“I guess so,” Kyubin laughed. “If that's what you want to call what we are, fine by me. It would be an honor.”

"I should let you get back to work now, shouldn't I?”

"We can talk a little longer, if you want."

"I don't know. I don't really feel like talking.”

“But do you feel like hanging up?”

After a pause, Yoojung admitted, “No.”

An idea started to form in Kyubin's mind. “Hey, maybe we could… maybe we could stay on the call a little longer as I finish work? I wouldn't be able to talk, and I might get a call from a client at some point, but I think the background sounds could relax you, so-”

“Let's do it,” Yoojung interrupted. “Don't hang up.”

“Okay,” Kyubin said with a smile. He finally did something right.

As he was exiting the bathroom, he noticed that one of the stalls was closed from the inside, and a cold shiver went through him. He pressed his phone to his abdomen to muffle the sound before giving the door a harsh knock. “Eavesdropping? Very mature.”

He didn't wait for a reaction before fleeing the scene, his thoughts racing through all the things he said. No matter how quietly the sound of Yoojung's voice came through the speaker, it still would've echoed, so anyone would've been able to hear that it was a man Kyubin was speaking to. Whoever it was, he hoped they had the decency not to spread gossip around the office. Being the centerpiece of those was the last thing Kyubin needed.

He set the phone on his desk and got to work, grateful to have something that would busy his mind enough not to drown it with increasingly more disastrous scenarios.

Work wasn't enough to distract him from the urge to burn away the stress with a quick smoke, but that's where Yoojung's presence at his desk proved to be his saving grace. Anytime he found himself getting distracted, he remembered that Yoojung was there, listening to all the tapping and clicking sounds which surrounded Kyubin every day.

Once he was done with work and on his way out, he made sure to pay close attention to any glances thrown his way, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The knot in his stomach came fully undone when he was outside, and could freely raise his phone to his ear.

At first, he heard nothing but silence, but after blocking his other ear, he picked up the faint sound of snoring. He listened for a little longer, aware of the fond smile overtaking his face which must have appeared silly to everyone rushing past him to catch a bus.

As much as he wanted to keep the soft sound of Yoojung snoring close to his ear for the rest of the night, eventually, he had to speak up. “Hey, Yoojung? I'm done with work. Are you still sleeping?”

He heard an incoherent grunt. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m here. Fell asleep to your office ASMR.”

“That’s good,” Kyubin replied, warmth blooming in his chest. “We can do this again sometime, if you want. I should be the one to call you then instead, I don’t want you to go bankrupt.”

He paused before he could ask Yoojung to stay on the phone for the rest of the night. After two weeks of being constantly on edge, he was too fatigued to pretend a phone call was enough. He already knew that once he laid down in his bed, his arms would start to feel too empty, the room too vast and dark, the sheets too cold. His inner balance wouldn't be restored until he had Yoojung flush against him; a physical proof that there really were warm nights ahead of them.

Bracing himself for whatever answer might come, he asked, “Can I come over tonight?”

“You saw me,” Yoojung muttered sleepily. “I’m not fun to be around right now.”

“I’m not after fun.” He watched his bus approach the stop, but his feet stayed firmly in one place. “I'll be honest with you, I really don't want to go back to my apartment tonight. It just seems too empty at night. I might get a hotel room if you decide you don't want me to come over, but… no hotel room has you, which makes them all inferior in comparison.”

“Kyubin, I… It's not that I don't want to invite you. I just don't wanna regret it.”

Kyubin felt insecurity arise in him again, and a broken off piece of concrete felt the impact of his frustration as his shoe sent it into a nearby bush. “I understand. I haven't given you enough reason to believe you wouldn't regret it.”

“No, you have. I just think it would be easier if we didn't see each other for a while.”

“Easier,” Kyubin repeated absentmindedly. Easier was nowhere among the words that came to his mind when he thought about the nights ahead.

He heard Yoojung sigh quietly. “But also not. I don't know. Whatever, just come over.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. Just… keep your expectations low, okay?”

“Okay,” Kyubin promised. “I mean, I have no expectations. We don't even have to talk, I can just hang around. I miss spending time with you, that's all.”

He knew it was just wishful thinking, but he imagined Yoojung smiled as he replied, “Yeah, me too.”

After hanging up, he boarded the bus which would take him in Yoojung's direction. Although he did feel comforted by the slowly forming certainty that they were still heading toward something stable and long-term, he also felt an increasing pressure to be more reliable. For his and Yoojung's sake, he could not mess this up.

As he got off at Yoojung's stop and the bus drove away, a flower seller’s display drew his attention. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to walk over, but when the seller caught him eyeing the yellow roses and informed him, “This is the perfect flower to give a cherished friend,” it seemed too fateful to ignore.

Before ringing Yoojung's doorbell, he hid the rose behind his back, feeling its thorns dig gently into his palm.

Yoojung opened the door looking a bit troubled, his hair covered just like it was that morning. “I thought you’d be in later. Didn’t you go to the gym?”

“No, I'll go tomorrow. Or, wait, am I interrupting something? Do you want me to come back later?”

Yoojung shook his head and readjusted the hood, pushing his hair further back. “I was just trying to clean up. Didn't get too far. Whatever, come in. Don't mind the mess.”

Nothing about the flat seemed different from the last time Kyubin had seen it, and it certainly did not look messy. A few specks of dirt on the floor here, a bit of dust there, but nothing a quick sweep wouldn't fix. It was still as inviting as before.

He took a deep breath. “Something smells delicious. Cinnamon?”

“I made a bunch of hotteok. Eat all of them, if you want.”

That pricked Kyubin's curiosity. “Do you never eat your own bakes?”

Yoojung made a vaguely nonplussed sound. “You wouldn't be asking that if you knew how much fat and sugar is in me right now.” He frowned. “I mean, it's not that this is all I've been eating, it's just- nevermind.”

Kyubin nodded slowly, thankful to have something that could mend the tension he caused. He took a small step closer to Yoojung and revealed what he'd been holding behind his back. “This is for you.”

Yoojung stared at the rose blankly. “Why?”

“To put on your table, maybe? I don't know, I just thought it would look good here. It means friendship, apparently.”

Yoojung took it, and although he held it as gently as if it were made from fine porcelain, he didn't seem particularly happy with the gift. “Thanks.”

“You're not a fan of being given flowers,” Kyubin guessed.

“I'm a fan of living plants,” he explained. “Mine aren't thriving right now, so I'm not looking forward to seeing it die on my table. But thanks. This is nice. I'll try to keep it alive as long as I can.”

He grabbed a vase and took it to the kitchen to fill it with water, and Kyubin headed to the bathroom to wash his hands before enjoying the taste of a fresh bake.

Upon opening the door to the bathroom, he was hit by a smell so biting and chemical that a deeper inhale made him cough. He waved it away, recognizing it as nothing more than deodorant. Why he hadn't felt any of it on Yoojung, he had no idea.

As the light came on, his eyes immediately focused on a familiar sight in the laundry basket - bedsheets from their shared night. That's where the stench seemed to be coming from, so he approached it, searching for an explanation.

When he leaned over the dirty laundry, he realized there was a different, more rancid smell hiding beneath the chemical one. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what the source of it was until he noticed a pair of sweatpants in the basket. They had a stain starting at the crotch and going down one leg, its dark yellow outline explaining why Yoojung felt the need to spray deodorant over it so excessively.

Kyubin quickly took out his phone and stuck his head out of the bathroom to say, “I hope you don’t mind, I’m looking up ways to deal with that stain. Is it just the things in the basket or does your mattress also need- Oh, wait, here it says to use vinegar and baking soda. Do you have either?”

When he didn't hear a response, he raised his eyes from the screen to see Yoojung looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. He marched over, yanked Kyubin forward and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

“This was a mistake,” he said stiffly, clutching the handle with a tight grip. “Go. Forget you saw anything.”

“I’m not judging you,” Kyubin said calmly. “It’s a normal thing that happens sometimes, it's okay.”

“No, it's not,” Yoojung said, voice trembling with tension. “It's fucking humiliating.”

“I’m not trying to humiliate you, I just want to help.”

“Well, don’t. This is all my shit to deal with, not yours.”

Kyubin raised his hand to place it on Yoojung’s shoulder, but retracted it before Yoojung could see him do it, just in case he reacted by flinching again. “I know. I just… I don't want you to think you can't share it with me.”

Yoojung closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the door. His posture slowly grew less rigid, but he still sounded apprehensive when he asked, “How can you be so unbothered by this?”

“I don’t see any reason to be bothered,” Kyubin picked his words with caution.

“That doesn't explain why you're acting like none of this is a big deal. The guy you just started dating is the opposite of a functional adult, and you're not even shocked.”

“You saw me being the opposite of a functional adult on more than one occasion, and it’s never bothered you.”

Yoojung let out a resigned sigh. “Yeah, well. Your way of being a dysfunctional adult is different.” He sank down to the floor with his back to the door, and looked up at Kyubin with an almost bored expression. “Do you even get why this happened? This wasn’t an accident in the middle of the night. I chose to do it. I pissed all over myself because I was too lazy to get up. So, no, I don’t wanna hear you say that this is okay. It’s fucking disgusting. That’s what it is.”

Kyubin sat down by his side, a little further away than he wanted to. Once again, his hands itched to offer a comforting touch, but he talked himself out of it. Gestures like these were only self-serving until Yoojung made it clear he wanted to receive affection in this way. “I don’t believe it happened because you were lazy. My guess is that getting up to go to the bathroom might have felt too pointless to bother with it. A lot of things feel pointless to you now, right?”

Yoojung blinked, and his face slowly began to show something that was neither unease nor apathy. “Yeah, pointless is a good way to put it.” His voice resembled the one he used over the phone, which Kyubin took as a good sign. “How do you know?”

“I've been there, so I get how it feels. Almost everything felt pointless to me around the time we met. Now I can look back at it as nothing more than a rough patch thanks to a certain someone.” He held Yoojung's gaze until Yoojung looked down at his lap. “I’m just trying to be fair. You were a big help to me, and I want to be a help to you, too.”

Yoojung stared at his own hands intensely before standing up. “There’s baking soda in the cabinet near the window. Vinegar’s in the bottom one. Do what you want. I’m going to bed.”

After the bedroom door closed behind him, Kyubin stared at it, contemplating whether it was more rude to leave after offering help, or to stay after making Yoojung self-conscious barely five minutes into his visit. He didn’t have to weigh his options for too long before heading into the kitchen to grab the products Yoojung pointed him to and dealing with the stains on the sweatpants, bedsheet and duvet cover per instruction. No matter how long it's been since they've dried and how deeply the stench imbued every little fiber, he had to at least save the covers and preserve all the memories attached to them.

The article informed him that the material should soak preferably for a couple hours, but his attempt to wait patiently on the sofa didn’t last very long. Staring at the rose wasn't calming, it just reminded him of the fact that it would wilt and shed all its petals within a few days.

Even though he didn't feel he had anything to beat himself up over this time, it was hard not to glance at the bedroom door every other second, wondering if Yoojung already regretted inviting him over. No matter how certain he was that Yoojung would have done the exact same thing had their positions been switched, the silence filling every corner of the flat made unhelpful thoughts that much louder.

To redirect this restless energy toward something productive, he got to washing the heap of dishes gathered in the sink. Once they were all dry and placed in the right cupboards, he treated himself to a lukewarm hotteok. It came as no surprise how mouth-watering it was, and the nostalgia attached to the taste made him crave a sip of milk to wash it down.

Momentarily forgetting he wasn’t in his own kitchen, he opened the fridge, only to be hit with yet another hideous mixture of odors. That prompted him to check the expiration dates of everything in the kitchen to round down the worst offenders. He poured out the expired milk, threw out old takeout meat and moldy cheese, then removed all rotting fruit from the counter, upsetting a whole swarm of little flies in the process.

The fridge looked way too empty after he was done, so he wrote down the things he ought to replace. Leaving all the windows and bathroom door open to air everything out properly, he took the trash bag outside - along with the empty bottle of vodka he found standing by the trashcan - and then made a trip to the nearest grocery store.

It wasn't until he was leaving the store that it occurred to him he might find Yoojung's door locked when he gets back. Yoojung might've been waiting for him to leave this whole time, so then it would make sense if he took this opportunity to get some peace. That notion almost made Kyubin want to turn on his heel and leave before he could experience the rejection firsthand, but he decided to face the risk.

To his surprise, the door wasn't locked.

He cracked it open slowly, listening for any sound that would betray Yoojung had left his bedroom at all. Upon taking a few steps inside, he noticed the door to Yoojung's bedroom was slightly ajar; not enough to see inside, but enough to confirm he had every opportunity to lock Kyubin out, and chose not to do so.

That didn't mean the invitation to spend the night still stood, though, and approaching Yoojung with the question seemed inconsiderate at this point. Either Yoojung would strike up an interaction out of his own volition, or Kyubin would leave him be and get himself a bed elsewhere.

After the shopping bags were unpacked, he checked on the laundry laid out in the bathroom. As it turned out, his intervention was enough to salvage the sheet and duvet cover, and the sweatpants looked and smelled a lot better, too.

It took him a while to figure out the settings on the unfamiliar model of the washing machine. By the time he was done, it was already nearing 10 PM, and he was barely keeping his eyes open. All the rough nights of the last two weeks seemed to be catching up with him, and the couch looked too inviting not to rest for a moment. Ten minutes, he thought to himself as he plopped down onto the seat. Ten minutes, and then he’d decide what to do next.

The couch was situated in a perfect place to see into Yoojung's room a bit. There weren't any lights turned on, but he could discern a vague outline of a hood resting on the pillow. He imagined himself laying right beside him, their breaths slowly syncing, the cold wall pressing to his skin whenever his shirt rode up his back.

His eyes drooped in shorter and shorter intervals until his cheek hit the armrest.

He jerked awake at a creak nearby, and the dark silhouette leaning over him made him sit up in alert.

“Sorry,” Yoojung stage-whispered. “Didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Oh, it’s you,” Kyubin whispered back. He looked around the living room shrouded in grayish darkness, and registered that there was a blanket covering his body which he definitely didn't place there himself. “What hour is it?”

“One thirty. Are you comfortable?”

That question prompted pain to materialize in all spots of Kyubin's body that were used to a comfortable mattress and a pillow. “Not really.” He groaned as he rolled his shoulders and massaged an aching spot in his neck. “I didn't mean to fall asleep, sorry. I’ll get myself to my own bed.”

“You don't have to,” Yoojung said, and Kyubin wished the lights coming from the street were bright enough to allow him to see the expression accompanying this warmer tone. “You can stay, it's just… you shouldn't be exiled to the couch like this.”

“So I can join you in your bed?” Kyubin made sure.

Yoojung inhaled deeply like he was bracing himself for something difficult. “Two issues with that. First, I haven't put on a new sheet or covers.”

“No problem, I can put them on.”

“And second, I… I haven't taken a shower in over a week. Even after that thing that happened.”

“I can wash you, that's fine.” It took a second for his half-asleep brain to fully comprehend what he just suggested, and judging by the silence, Yoojung also didn't expect to hear anything of the sort.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded a lot more frigid this time. “I didn't lose the ability to shower, you know. I've got hands, I know what soap is.”

“I know, but… Taking a shower feels a bit pointless, right?” Kyubin asked as gently as he could.

“It doesn't.” Yoojung's silhouette was clearer now that Kyubin's eyes adjusted to darkness, and he watched him settle on the armrest by his feet. “Not now, at least. I already brushed my teeth, I might as well do this. I’ve been meaning to get to it all day, I just… haven’t.”

“Getting to it was always the hardest part for me,” Kyubin admitted. “Thinking about walking in there, turning on the water, waiting for it to turn the right temperature, all while standing upright the whole time. It seemed more difficult than a sprint on a treadmill. So, yeah, I get it.”

“But you did get to it,” Yoojung said flatly. “I know things weren’t fine for you when we met, but you always looked put together. You actually showed up to your responsibilities.”

“Only because I had a reputation to uphold. That was the one thing motivating me every step of the way, and you know how much it ate me up inside.”

Yoojung fiddled with the strings of his hoodie for a moment before he asked, “Was that person even you?”

“What do you mean?” Kyubin asked, unable to look away from the outline of his hands.

“I mean, when you look back at that time, do you recognize the person you were then as yourself?”

“I do, yes. A washed up version of myself, but ultimately not someone far from who I am now.”

Yoojung nodded, and it seemed like that was the answer he expected. “See, this isn't me. None of this is me. This is just someone who comes around sometimes and steals my body to mope around and do fuck all. I know it sounds weird, but that’s how it feels. It's all because of this thief. Do you believe me?”

“I do.” Kyubin could feel them getting close to breaching the topic of what the cause of this thief's arrival was, but he already decided he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up in more explicit terms. “I do, but… this is also you sometimes, and that’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay for you who has to go through it, but it’s okay, just, in general. It doesn’t scare me, is what I'm trying to say. I like you with or without the thief present. I just want you to know that.”

Even though Yoojung's face was shrouded in shadows, Kyubin could feel his gaze. He suspected Yoojung understood the subtext hiding beneath these words, and the longer the silence stretched, the more it seemed like he wasn't ready for the unsaid to become said.

All in all, this should have been the moment he got up and hid in his bedroom again, but instead, he asked, “Was this your first time saying it?”

“Hm?” Kyubin was too thrown off by how soft Yoojung sounded to get what he was referring to. “Saying what? Which part?”

“You told me before that you never confessed to anybody you liked. I'm the first to hear it, aren't I?”

“Oh, that’s what you meant.” He suddenly found his chest felt so light that he needed to laugh. “Yeah, I guess this was my first time saying those words out loud. It was much easier than I expected, that's for sure. Would've saved me a lot of stress in the past if I knew this is how it would go.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Yoojung said softly, and Kyubin really, really resented the moon for being such a poor source of light. “I know I already said it a bunch, but I like you too, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kyubin echoed with what he knew was the silliest smile. “Is that the final yes, then? Can I sleep in your bed?”

“I don't know. I don't wanna go back to sleep if it's not with you, but I know how filthy my body is. I hate being so used to my own smell that I can't even tell how gross it is. If there was a way to take a shower without moving a finger, I'd do it right away.”

“I suggested a way,” Kyubin reminded him. “And I still stand by it. If you want, I can help.”

“Yeah, no. Too weird.”

“If you say so,” he conceded. “It doesn't seem weird to me, but I've never washed anyone, so I wouldn't know.”

Yoojung scoffed quietly. “Sure, cause it's so normal to scrub dried piss off a guy you fucked one time.”

The distrust in his voice gave Kyubin pause. It didn't just feel like what he said made Yoojung self-conscious; it felt like Yoojung genuinely thought he was trying to make him self-conscious. “Yoojung, I'm not trying to pick on you,” he said delicately. “You know I'd never do that. I know this is an unusual situation we found ourselves in, but really, all I'm trying to do is help. I want to help.”

“I know,” Yoojung sighed. “I know that.”

Kyubin scooted closer to him, determined to get himself out of the couch exile. “So would you let me do this for you?”

Yoojung’s response was to stand up, and the ache in Kyubin's joints magnified. He almost got up to chase after him, but Yoojung didn't head toward the bedroom. Instead, he walked over to the bathroom.

He turned the light on and threw Kyubin a glance over his shoulder. “I need sleep, and you need sleep. Let’s just get this over with.”

Kyubin followed dutifully before Yoojung could have a change of mind, and closed the door behind them for a somewhat performative sense of privacy.

Yoojung was already in the process of taking off his hoodie, so Kyubin rushed past him to the shower stall and turned the water on.

“What temperature do you want?” he asked while taking the handshower off the wall. He looked over his shoulder to check Yoojung’s state of undress, but quickly snapped his head back around. He could still see a blurry, misshapen reflection of him in the shower head, and he busied himself with turning the knob to gauge its settings. “Hot, cold, lukewarm?”

“Whichever gets the job done,” Yoojung said pragmatically.

Kyubin let the water run until it warmed up, all the while trying to stay entirely calm about the situation he got himself into.

Until that point, his sleep-deprived brain hadn’t fully registered what the process of washing another person entailed. Now, he was fully awake, and he had no idea how he was going to do this in an impassive, cool-headed way. His body's base response didn't play any part in helping Yoojung clean himself, but it wasn't like he could just take his mind and all his good intentions out of his body to perform one task, and then seal himself whole again.

He heard the moment Yoojung threw the last item he was wearing into the laundry bin. Bare footsteps approached him from behind, and he sidestepped to let Yoojung into the stall, not allowing his eyes to linger on any part of him.

It felt too awkward to even fully face him, let alone reach behind him to turn the water on again and drench him from head to toe, so instead, Kyubin busied himself with searching through various cabinets.

“You can still change your mind,” Yoojung told him when Kyubin was taking a little too long deciding between two different bottles of body wash. “You can just leave me here with a soaped up sponge and hope I still know how to use it.”

Kyubin closed the cabinet with a decisive thud. Giving himself a credit of trust not to say anything stupid, he looked Yoojung in the eyes. “I said I'd help. Unless you tell me you don't want my help, I'm not leaving.”

He got a barely noticeable shrug in response, but even that small gesture was enough to remind him that he was supposed to be the unfazed and productive one in this situation. Yoojung was already experiencing enough discomfort. The last thing he needed was for Kyubin to start acting weird and evasive just because he was worried he'd humiliate himself.

“How should I start?” Kyubin asked, picking a bottle of body wash at random. “Where, I mean? What do you want me to wash first?”

Yoojung seemed distracted as his hand moved up to touch the ends of his hair, like his body knew the answer before he did. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around himself with his gaze directed at the floor, looking more misplaced and vulnerable than anyone had the right to in their own bathroom.

“How about you sit down?” Kyubin suggested, finding it much easier to be assertive when his sole focus was to protect. “It'll make washing you easier for me, and hopefully more comfortable for you.”

Yoojung complied, sitting down in the basin with his back turned to the rest of the room. Only then did he say, “Deal with my hair first. Please.”

“I’m on it. I'll be quick, I promise.”

Guiding the stream to soak only the hair without spilling a single drop on the floor was difficult in his rush to get Yoojung clean and relaxed as soon as he could. He paused only to cuff his sleeves after a careless movement drenched one of them up to the elbow, and then hastily made up for the lost few seconds.

To make sure no strand of hair stayed dry, he combed his fingers through Yoojung’s half-damp hair swiftly, a little too swiftly if the quiet hiss he heard after accidentally getting stuck on a tangled lock was any indication.

“Shit, sorry.” He gave the spot a gentle massage, and made sure his movements were less rash after that.

Washing another person was bound to be different from washing himself, he knew that. What he didn't expect was that it would make him feel like such an amateur at this decidedly mundane task.

When he bent over a sink half-awake to wash his hair, he could turn off his thinking and get it done on autopilot. Meanwhile, moving his hands through someone else’s hair with such clinical precision was exceedingly awkward. He understood what to do with his fingers as long as the sensitive nerve endings on his scalp responded to his movement, but when he couldn’t feel anything other than water and hair between his fingers, it was difficult to know when he was being too gentle or too forceful.

It all became easier when he took a deep breath of the distinct scent that had filled the air; herbal, gingery, calming and unforgettable.

As he was spreading the fragrant liquid from the dark roots of Yoojung's hair to the blond ends, a thought came to him that painting Yoojung in warm tones on a canvas wouldn’t be very different from this. It was all just taking something that was entirely meaningless on its own, then recontextualizing it around Yoojung’s body until it expressed his unique essence.

He felt a lot less clumsy after that as he rinsed the foam out of Yoojung's hair, then squatted down to douse his back and shoulders in warm water.

In his drowsy state, it was easy to zone out while moving the sponge up and down Yoojung's back. Falling into a routine motion, he placed the shower head down and used his free hand to spread the foamed up body wash around.

It wasn't until he felt how stiff the muscles above Yoojung's shoulder blades were that he hesitated. His initial instinct was to massage the tension away, but if the reason for it wasn't Yoojung's inactivity but rather the stress of the situation, he didn't want to make it worse. It was intimidating to see him so vulnerable, all exposed and hunched over as if to make himself appear smaller.

When he was done cleaning his back, he pushed the hesitation away and forced his fingertips to graze Yoojung's shoulder. He didn’t notice any sign of protest, so he attempted to bring relief to every tense spot his fingers found, pressing into them and drawing little circles with carefully controlled pressure. He supposed he was doing a good enough job when he heard a quiet sigh, and felt the muscles gradually relax.

“I’m done with your back,” he announced when he decided Yoojung was sufficiently loosened up. “Can you turn around?”

Yoojung didn’t react, so Kyubin focused on thoroughly squeezing out the sponge until every last drop to give him as much time as he needed.

Once Yoojung did turn around, he did so slowly, keeping his legs close to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, bringing them even closer till his chin touched his knees. Beneath the strands of hair precariously hiding his face, his gaze remained avoidant.

Kyubin touched his forearm. “I’ll try to be faster this time.”

Yoojung allowed Kyubin to guide his arm up to make washing it easier, and faced away before saying, “Make sure you get the job done. Don’t worry about being fast.”

“I’ll try to be both fast and meticulous,” Kyubin promised.

It would’ve been a lie to say Kyubin wasn't tempted to break the first half of that promise, but no matter how strong the temptation got, he didn’t slow down, refusing to give into the selfish impulse to savor this new, strange, exciting side of intimacy. Eventually though, he had to accept that he was deriving some enjoyment from this, and maybe that wasn’t such a big deal. After the two weeks he’s had, he thought he was justified in feeling relieved and grateful that Yoojung was allowing him to do this, to see him defenseless and unconcealed.

And yes, there was no pretending that he wasn't thrilled by this for other reasons, but this titillation had little in common with a primitive, physical response to being in proximity to someone attractive and naked. It was something far more mellow and undemanding than that.

He liked knowing that Yoojung was willing to offer him trust. He liked that when he moved the sponge up Yoojung’s arm to his shoulder, Yoojung immediately craned his neck to the side and moved his hair out of the way. He liked the stillness, the simplicity, the knowledge that he’d be laying down to sleep with the scent of Yoojung’s shampoo lingering on his fingers. He couldn't think of anything more lover-like than this.

He was halfway through guiding the sponge up Yoojung’s thigh when Yoojung grabbed his wrist, his grip tight and decisive.

Kyubin stopped moving immediately and looked at his face. “What's wrong?”

Yoojung shook his head lightly, but his hold didn't loosen. “Nothing, I just… I should stand up now, probably.”

“It would be easier to finish up if you do, yes, but I can try to get everything done without you having to stand up. You can keep sitting if you're tired.”

Yoojung's teeth tortured his lip for a moment before he reluctantly said, “Do as much as you can, and leave the worst to me.”

Kyubin slowly moved the sponge along his outer thigh to his knee, trying to gauge where the worst began and ended. After some careful exploration, he figured out that any part he didn’t have access to as long as Yoojung remained in the same position was the part he considered the worst. Kyubin could have argued that he didn’t mind at all, that no bodily fluids grossed him out to the point where he couldn’t wash them off the person whose existence gave him so much joy, but he decided not to push that boundary any further.

After he was done with bathing everything that was entrusted to him, he handed Yoojung the sponge and body wash, then politely averted his attention to move the laundry onto a drying rack and find a fresh towel.

He could hear how furiously Yoojung scrubbed himself clean, how aggressive and rushed every graze against his skin was. After seeing how devoid of strength he’d been all day, it seemed like he was conjuring up every last bit of energy into transferring all his negative emotions onto the small, porous object in his hand and every inch of skin it came in contact with.

When he heard Yoojung turn off the water, he could finally stop acting like he hadn't picked a towel the second he opened the cabinet.

He turned around to find Yoojung standing up, his thighs redder than any other part of his body. “One more rinse?” he asked, holding out the shower head in Kyubin’s direction.

“Sure.”

Kyubin accepted the shower head and gave Yoojung a small smile as he waited for him to turn the water back on. Yoojung didn’t make an effort to reach behind himself, though, and that was when Kyubin noticed Yoojung’s eyes were fixed on him without any of the previous reluctance. It made him feel put on the spot all of a sudden, like he was being analyzed, and it made him want to avoid meeting Yoojung’s gaze. He supposed this slight discomfort was only fair after everything he just put Yoojung through.

When he reached behind Yoojung to make the water pressure bigger, the sensitive underside of his forearm brushed Yoojung’s bare skin, and he could smell the scent that was uniquely Yoojung under all the fragrant products lingering on him. In a moment of weakness, his eyes followed the water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders, not stopping as it rolled lower and lower.

He swallowed, vowing to keep his attention solely on the piece of metal in his hand from that point.

With the water on and running, he focused on what he was supposed to be doing, which was a little complicated while trying to avert his eyes anywhere that wasn’t naked skin. He tried to keep his breathing shallow and quiet, but it seemed impossible to hide every little hint of how Yoojung’s proximity affected him in such a quiet, well-lit room. So much time spent without desiring him, and now it was hitting him all at once.

After a moment of nothing but the sound of water splattering against the basin, Yoojung asked, “Are you enjoying this?”

Kyubin halted for a second, then resumed as naturally as he could. No was on the tip of his tongue, but that would have been a blatant lie, and he didn’t want to lie. Yes was much closer to the truth, but he also didn’t want to plant the idea that he wanted something more out of this in Yoojung’s head. It felt like the hint of desire in his gut was a breach of trust, and like denying that it existed was a breach of trust as well.

“I’m not indifferent,” he said the most honest thing that came to mind.

“So, yes is the answer,” Yoojung summarized. “Why not just say that?”

Another silence-filled moment of searching for the best response. “I just want to be careful.”

“Why?”

Kyubin gave him a quick, confused look. “I’m trying to learn from my mistakes. I don’t want anything I say to sound hurtful.”

“I'm tougher than I look,” Yoojung murmured. “I can handle it.”

“I'm not saying you're not tough. Not wanting to hurt you has nothing to do with how tough you are.”

“I wasn’t hurt.”

Kyubin paused while reaching to turn the water off, unable to force his face into something less disbelieving. “It seemed like you were.”

Yoojung didn't respond, but he kept their eyes firmly locked, his face unreadable. Kyubin reached for the towel he prepared earlier and placed it around Yoojung’s shoulders, giving him a chance to take over drying himself if he wished.

Once again, all Yoojung did was keep staring. Then, he tugged the towel off his shoulders. “This one's for hands,” he said before handing it back. “Yellow for hair, white for body.”

“Oh, sorry.”

After quickly finding the right ones, Yoojung accepted the yellow one handed to him, and he began to dry his hair while Kyubin handled the rest.

It wasn’t until Yoojung had him on one knee, his foot resting on the towel draped over Kyubin’s thigh, that he quietly asked, “You thought I was too desperate, didn't you?”

“What?” Kyubin glanced up, and then quickly looked back down again. “No, not at all. You weren't asking for anything you don't have the right to ask me for.”

“But I freaked you out.”

“I wasn't freaked out,” Kyubin protested half-heartedly. “I was… concerned. It didn't seem like you had your own best interests at heart.”

Yoojung scoffed and pulled the towel off his head, leaving it to hang down by his side as water continued dripping from his hair. “I'd rather hear the truth than excuses, you know. You expected romance, not the blubbering mess I was. I get it, I get why, so just say it.”

“I’m sorry that’s how I made you feel,” Kyubin said, moving the towel gently over his skin despite there being no more moisture left to absorb. “I admit, I was out of my depth. I couldn't tell how I was supposed to react, and I'm sorry for how I handled it. I wanted you to feel okay, but I didn't know how to make that happen.”

“I was literally telling you how.”

“You were trying to take off my pants while saying it wasn't about a blowjob.”

“Yeah, cause I didn't need dick. I needed you.”

Kyubin gazed up at him, his thumb caressing the skin below Yoojung's ankle. “Needed me in what way?”

Yoojung pulled his foot out of Kyubin's hold and snatched the towel back. “I don't know. Doesn't matter. Move over, I’m getting out.”

“Oh, sorry.” Kyubin scrambled up to let him out. “Can I take a quick shower as well? I hate falling asleep in my day clothes, and now I’m all wet anyway, so-”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

Kyubin went through the motions of soaping himself up and rinsing off automatically with his eyes drooping under the warm stream of water. Only when he placed the shower head back in its place and turned to exit the stall did he realize Yoojung had been leaning against the doorframe and observing his every move.

The flustered laugh that tore out of him sounded too loud in the silent bathroom. “Were you enjoying the view?”

Yoojung tilted his head a little, his gaze never straying from Kyubin's face. “I like your reactions.”

“Reactions to what? You making me flustered?”

“To everything. There's always a surprise somewhere.” He handed Kyubin a fresh towel, t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

After a hasty rub off to be somewhat dry, Kyubin threw on the clothes without a care for which side was front and back, ready to just fall onto a flat surface and let sleep carry his consciousness away until his alarm inevitably woke him.

It wasn't until they stepped into the bedroom that he remembered his promise to change the sheets, but to his delight, Yoojung informed him, “I put a fresh sheet and cover on while you were in the shower. New pillowcase, too.”

There was a hint of pride Kyubin heard in his voice when he said, “That's great. That's really great.”

Yoojung paused with his hand on the light switch. “Told you I still have hands.”

“I didn’t mean for that to sound insincere, sorry. I’m relieved you’re taking these steps. Genuinely.”

“Thanks,” Yoojung whispered, and the room went dark.

Kyubin immediately headed for the bed, sighing when he felt the soft mattress beneath his knees. He crawled to his spot by the wall, though before he could lay down, his hands found an odd shape on the pillow. Upon inspection, he realized the soft object had button eyes and long ears.

“Did I get it right?” he asked Yoojung who was still hovering by the door. “Is this your favorite?”

“It is. How'd you guess?”

“It looked well-hugged.” Since his filter was already nonexistent, he added, “You put it right where I slept that one night. Was it a replacement for me?” After a few seconds of silence, he realized the question was more loaded than he could process in this state of drowsiness.

Before he could even open his mouth to backtrack and laugh it off, Yoojung asked, “You want a handjob or something?”

“Uh,” Kyubin replied eloquently. No was the answer he was aiming for, but he still had enough self-preservation to try and be diplomatic about it. “I think we’re both too tired for that now. Me, I mean. I’m too tired.”

Yoojung sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I don't know why I said that. Actually, that's not true. I know why. It got silent, and it got awkward.”

“We can just go to sleep,” Kyubin said, sounding more hopeful than he intended. “Anything else can wait til tomorrow. Or later today, I guess.”

Yoojung didn't make a move to lay down, the faint street light illuminating his hunched shoulders and lowered head.

Sensing that there was something on his mind he could only express in the comfort of darkness, Kyubin stifled an incoming yawn and waited, giving his arm a pinch to stay alert when silence stretched.

“Anytime things get quiet for a second too long, I feel like I’m about to say something I’ll regret,” Yoojung confessed. “Even something simple like I'm sorry. I don't wanna say I'm sorry. I hate how self-pitying that sounds.”

Kyubin's hands itched to offer a reassuring touch, but he kept them to himself. “What do you think you have to apologize for?”

Yoojung shrugged. “False advertising?”

“You never advertised yourself in any way to me. You told me things you felt comfortable telling me. That’s normal.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. This just sucks. All of it. Not you, you're nice. Too nice, maybe. I keep wanting to tell you I'm sorry you have to do this, now do it more.” He let out a tired laugh. “I’ve done enough stalling, I'll stop.”

Contrary to his words, he didn’t elaborate further. Kyubin shifted closer to sit by his side, taking the plushie with him. He handed it to Yoojung, and saw him begin to take out his distress on its floppy ears.

“I just hate that I have to complicate stuff between us, you know? But that’s what being with me comes along with, and I’m not apologizing for shit that’s out of my control. So, um. The reason I'm like this is because I've got bipolar disorder, type two. Do you know what that means?”

Kyubin nodded. “Yes, I read up on it recently. I don’t know what it’s like to live with it, so if you ever want to share, I'm all ears.”

The few seconds of silence that followed felt heavy.

“So you knew,” Yoojung said, his state of mind unreadable from his voice.

“I suspected, that's all.”

“So what now?”

Kyubin looked up from the plushie being squashed by anxious hands. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think about it?”

“I… I think it must be difficult for you, and I hope you're getting the help you need.”

Yoojung seemed surprised only for the briefest of seconds. “I take meds, yeah. Not always regularly, but I try. And I avoid alcohol since it can make the symptoms worse.” He shrugged, his shoulder brushing against Kyubin’s. “But what’s life without a little irresponsibility, am I right?”

“Yes, probably.” Kyubin hesitated before asking, “Would this have happened if it wasn’t for… everything that went down that day? Because when I was reading up on this, I saw that depressive episodes usually happen right after the manic ones, but you had a whole week in between, so I was just wondering if-”

“You didn’t make this happen,” Yoojung cut in. “Neither did the email. That's just how it is sometimes. That’s all there's to it.”

“I see,” Kyubin exhaled in relief. “Well, that’s… I mean, thank you. I can see it wasn’t an easy thing to share, and I’m grateful you trust me with it.”

Yoojung elbowed him gently. “Enough serious talk. You’re here to sleep.”

“Mhm,” Kyubin muttered, already scooting back to lay down. He saw Yoojung put the plushie on his bedside table before laying down, facing Kyubin, but leaving a lot more space between them than the last time they were in this position.

Kyubin was too close to dozing off to discuss whether Yoojung wanted to be touched or not, so he simply laid his hand on the empty bit of mattress and closed his eyes.

He was already practically unconscious when he felt the comforting pressure of Yoojung’s hand settling on his.

He awoke to the sound of rhythmic patting against the window. His hand rested in the same spot, empty, and when his eyes opened, he saw Yoojung laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

Even by seeing his side profile, he could tell the vacant look in Yoojung’s eyes hadn’t gone away. He felt a nudge to force some cheerfulness into his voice as he greeted, “Good morning. How’re you feeling?”

“Don’t know,” Yoojung replied, not making an effort to look at him. “The same, I guess.”

Kyubin’s attention moved over to the grayness behind the window. The plants on the windowsill were a sad sight in comparison to how he’d last seen them, and the streaks of water coming down the glass only seemed to intensify the longer he looked. None of it created an atmosphere encouraging to get up and go about his day.

“How long have you suspected?” Yoojung asked suddenly.

“Hm?” Kyubin looked at him, not awake enough to connect the dots.

Yoojung shifted onto his side to face him, still avoiding his eyes. “Since when did you suspect I’m bipolar?”

The wariness in his voice made Kyubin consider telling a lie about his suspicions being more recent than they were, but he settled on telling the truth. “Since we went out for ice cream. Some of the things you did then worried me, so I looked for possible explanations.”

“Seriously? You knew all this time, and you didn't bring it up?”

“Well, no,” Kyubin said, wondering if he should apologize. “I was waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”

It wasn't long before the tense look on Yoojung's face shifted into something softer. “I would’ve told you if you asked me. At least I think I would've. Cause I did prepare to explain everything after you saw me being hypomanic, but once we were talking, I couldn’t get the words out. I don't know how to talk about it.”

“Were you worried I'd react badly?”

“No. I don't know. I thought you wouldn't know what it is. Best case scenario, you'd ask some questions and believe me when I say this doesn't have to affect you in any way.” He looked earnest as he said, “It still doesn't, you know. We can agree not to see each other for a week or two when the thief comes around, and we can agree to pretend that's normal.”

The initial jolt of excitement that Yoojung was actively considering their future felt inappropriate within the context, so Kyubin tried not to let it show. “I think we should do what's most convenient for you at any given moment. If you'd rather be alone, I can stay away. If you need help, or simply someone to sit in silence with, you can let me know, and I'll come over.”

Yoojung hesitated. “Thing is, I can be difficult when I'm like this. I'm not saying this to self-deprecate, I mean it. I'd probably say a bunch of mean, vile shit just to hurt you and make myself even more miserable. I don't know if I'd be able to look you in the eyes ever again after that.”

Kyubin leaned over him to kiss his head, getting a whiff of the familiar scent. “The offer still stands. If you don't feel like dealing with everything alone, I hope you'll consider me as your first choice. Now, would you like some breakfast?”

“Ugh, please. If I eat any more sugar, I'll throw up.”

Kyubin decided not to admit that his plan was to serve up the remaining hotteok with some cold milk in a glass. “Alright. I’ll try to whip up something with no sugar in it.”

Standing in front of the fridge with no clue how to turn its contents into something interesting made Kyubin resent how easily he'd settled into the bachelor lifestyle. Too many precooked meals, not enough skills acquired to make a mildly impressive meal for their very first shared breakfast.

Yoojung walked into the kitchen just as he was transferring scrambled eggs from a pan onto plates.

“I thought rice would take too long, so I made toast,” he said as he set the plate before Yoojung. “Also, I couldn't find any salt or soy sauce. Sorry.”

Yoojung took a pair of chopsticks and dug into the eggs straight away. “It's my kitchen, don't say sorry for not finding something in it.”

“I could’ve thought of it yesterday while shopping.” He watched Yoojung chew the first bite, trying to read from his face if he was enjoying the taste or not. “Is this the blandest breakfast you've ever had?”

“It’s fine. Bland, yeah, but at least it won't rot my teeth. So, thanks.”

“Happy to serve.” He sat across from Yoojung, not keen to start eating his own portion just yet. “Can I ask what it is about baking that makes you want to do it even when everything else feels pointless?”

“It’s easy,” Yoojung said nonchalantly. “Throw some stuff together, put it in the oven, make the whole kitchen smell nice.”

“Really, that's all? It seems a bit more complicated than that.”

“My grandma taught me a lot of the basics, so it feels like I've known this stuff forever. Her kitchen always smelled divine. I never managed to recapture that scent.” He stopped chewing for a moment to stare blankly at his plate, like his mind drifted far away into the memories.

“Is that how you want to spend today as well?” Kyubin asked gently. “Baking?”

The distracted look disappeared from his face instantly. “No. I have to go to work. Gotta talk to Sieun about how I can make my absence up to her.”

It took Kyubin a second to get who and what he was talking about. “Oh, right, her. Have you come up with a different way to do that than taking over her shifts?”

“I managed to bribe the guy I worked with before by giving him all the tips I earned for the next month. Might work again.”

“I hope it does.” Kyubin glanced at the clock which showed a few minutes past seven. “Your shift starts at one, right?”

Yoojung nodded.

“Do you have to come in earlier to prepare the food, or…?”

“Boss never lets me sell my stuff,” Yoojung replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “We get everything delivered. So, yeah, I've got a few hours to kill.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Kyubin. “You're planning to be late for work so you can hang out with me.”

Kyubin smirked. “What's life without a little irresponsibility? Would you like to watch something, or maybe-” A ping from his phone interrupted him. “Hold on one second.”

Though he was skeptical that the response from BlueBlueSeoul would come at such a convenient moment, he checked the notification. As expected, it was only a reminder for a morning meeting, but he used the opportunity to check his email in case it carried hopeful news for Yoojung.

“Waiting for something important?” Yoojung asked.

“Not important, no,” he lied.

Yoojung raised his eyebrows. “Your face doesn't agree.”

Kyubin took a big bite of his toast, giving himself a moment to consider if it was smart to let Yoojung in on the secret before he received any concrete details.

“I don’t want to give you false hope,” he started hesitantly. “It’s just that I was talking to Junhyung, and he told me Sungho rejected the offer to join BlueBlueSeoul. I wrote to them to ask what they're planning to do about it in case you were their next choice, but so far, no response.”

“If they wanted anything to do with me, they would've contacted me,” Yoojung said dryly.

“I guess you're right,” Kyubin had to admit. “And you're sure you didn't miss any calls, or that their emails didn't go to spam, or-”

“Just forget this, yeah?”

Kyubin nodded. “Okay. Sorry.”

Yoojung chewed in silence for a moment before looking at him again. “If I opened my own coffee shop, would you help out with the accounting?”

“I… would. Is that something you’re considering?”

Yoojung shrugged. “I don't have the money for it now, but it's a plan.”

“Right,” Kyubin said slowly. “I just- I thought working as a barista is a temporary necessity for you, not a career you want to dedicate your life to.”

Yoojung shrugged again. “Let’s face it, this auditioning thing was never gonna last long. And working at a café isn't so bad. I'm good at making coffee. I'm good at baking. I can grovel for a tip like no one else.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that he didn’t hate that option with his entire heart, and Kyubin hated hearing him be so down on himself.

It would have been easy to dismiss this idea as one born of temporary self-doubt, something that would pass the second Yoojung started to feel more like himself again. Even if that was true, Kyubin couldn't just sit by without making an effort to uplift him.

As he put their plates in the sink, he asked, “If I drove over here in my car in, let’s say, forty minutes, would you let me take you somewhere?”

Yoojung looked both apprehensive and intrigued. “Where?”

“How about the Yellow Sea? If we take the highway, there's a strong chance I'll bring you back in time for your shift. What do you think about that?”

He felt Yoojung's eyes on himself the whole time while washing the dishes. When he turned around, he found Yoojung looking at him with something that wasn’t yet a smile, but was definitely a promise of one.

“I think I did the right thing when I let you come over yesterday,” he said.

Kyubin changed out of the borrowed shirt and pants not without regret since lounging around in Yoojung's clothes until noon seemed like a great way to pass time.

Despite his effort to park as close to the entrance as possible, Yoojung got into the passenger's seat with his hair soaked.

Kyubin grabbed the extra waterproof jacket he had the foresight to bring. “It doesn't seem like the weather is going to be any better by the sea, so take this.”

Yoojung seemed hesitant to touch it at first, and when he did, his hands acted as if they were given custody over something far more precious than a bundle of waterproof material. It reminded Kyubin of how he held the rose in his hands. “Thanks.” He folded it up carefully before placing it in his lap.

After maneuvering the car to get back on the road, Kyubin passed him the cord. “Would you like to play something?”

Yoojung pushed the cord his way. “Your turn. I wanna know what you listen to.”

Kyubin smiled sheepishly. “I don’t want to admit how incredibly boring I am, but I usually just put the radio on. I don’t have a cultivated taste like you do.”

“Then let’s listen to whatever’s on the radio.”

As always, the radio played a wide selection of sorrowful ballads from the top of the charts, cheerful idol music and trot songs with a hook designed to burrow into the listener's head and not leave for days. Kyubin kept switching the stations in hope of finding anything that he thought would align with Yoojung's taste until he heard the smooth sound of violins, and his finger stilled.

“Would it be okay if I let this play a little longer?” he asked.

"Yeah, it's nice,” Yoojung said, already curled up in his seat, holding the bundled up jacket in his arms as if it was a plushie. “It's relaxing.”

The downpour followed them out of Seoul, but the only reminders of the awful weather outside were the heavy splatters against the roof and windshield wipers occasionally obscuring Kyubin's view of the road. Inside the car, it felt like the sunniest day Kyubin had ever known.

He kept taking his eyes off the road, unable to get used to the sight of the passenger's seat not being empty. Even when he wasn't looking directly, he could see Yoojung swaying his head along with the more dynamic melodies, his fingers tapping out the rhythm against his arm. Even though Kyubin didn’t feel the need to do that himself, he understood the urge.

It was impossible not to let the harmonious swell of instruments carry him away into fantasies of another trip like this one, but on a sunnier day with a sunnier Yoojung. Windows rolled down, wind rustling their hair, Yoojung’s laughter drowning out the music, and Kyubin doing his best not to pull over so they could make out in the backseat.

“You're not boring,” Yoojung said suddenly. His tone of voice didn’t sound very sincere, but Kyubin could see past the lethargy and see that he meant what he was saying. “Liking classical music more than modern stuff doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

Kyubin smiled. Maybe this trip wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and that was pretty damn perfect on its own. “I don’t know if I like it more, but I certainly like it more than I thought I did. I used to avoid stations that play it.”

“Why?”

For such a simple question, it took a lot of effort to come up with an answer. “I don't really know. I guess it always seemed unapproachable to me, like I was expected to listen to it for some intellectual experience instead of enjoying it for what it is. But I am enjoying it now, so I might’ve been wrong about that.”

“Hm.” Yoojung shifted in his seat to face him. “Let me guess. You had to attend a bunch of music lessons as a kid. Piano? Violin? Clarinet?”

Kyubin chuckled. “No, signing me up for music lessons would've been the normal thing to do. I was supposed to be educated about high art, but never participate in it.”

Yoojung took a moment to process that. “Huh. Weird. Even people who respect art don’t want to raise an artist.”

“Right, especially a gay one. A gay artist is every parent’s worst nightmare.”

Yoojung didn’t reply to that.

Kyubin took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at him, and the grim look he saw on Yoojung’s face forced him to quickly search for a distraction from whatever was happening in his mind. “So, uh, funny story while we're on the topic. There was this one time we were on holiday in Paris, and my parents took me to an opera. I was told it had a really dramatic plot with lots of twists and turns, but of course, I couldn't understand anything. I wasn't even tall enough to see the stage, so I ended up staring at the hairpin of the lady in front of me the whole time, and… And now that I’m saying it out loud, I’m realizing it’s not that funny of a story.”

"You've been to Paris?" Yoojung asked quietly.

"Yeah, I-" He paused, a shiver of shame rocking through him as he realized how tactless he was. “Nevermind. I'm sorry for bringing this up."

After a painfully awkward pause filled with violins harmonizing with the engine, Yoojung asked, "How was it?"

“I don't remember much,” Kyubin admitted. “It was mostly just confusing to suddenly be in a place where I couldn’t communicate with anyone and constantly felt like people were staring at us. It was the nineties, but still. It’s just a city like any other.”

The rain still wasn't letting up, and the leisurely string piece on the radio seemed to drag on without an end, making Kyubin restless in the lingering tension.

He was about to switch the station to something more cheerful when the song finally came to an end, and the radio host took over to talk about the details of the composer's life.

As if the pleasant atmosphere wasn't tainted enough, the host finished his monologue by saying, “Next up, a piece which culminates the second act of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, which some argue to be the composer’s magnum opus. Though initially the ballet was considered a failure, it has become a-”

Yoojung switched the radio off.

With an hour of driving ahead of them, all Kyubin could do was keep quiet until they reached the sea. Once Yoojung found himself in his special place, the clouds in his heart would disperse, and the stupid things Kyubin said would start to seem insignificant next to the thoughtful, earnest gesture of bringing him there.

At least that's what Kyubin strongly hoped would happen.

He was prepared for the rest of their drive to go by like this, every second brimming with tension and unease, but after a few long, long minutes, Yoojung turned to him again.

“Can you tell me what you thought about my audition choreo? And don't filter it. I want painful honesty.”

Kyubin had replayed parts of it in his mind before he fell asleep that night, but even then, he couldn’t come up with a concise interpretation. The radiance Yoojung exuded when he immersed himself in his passion was very distracting, so with the option of instant replay taken away, all he was left with was his initial impression from the one time he got to see the choreography.

“I thought it was at odds with itself,” he said. “Like you were trying to sort through the chaos of everything you’ve ever felt.”

“So it was incoherent,” Yoojung summed up, and it sounded like Kyubin just confirmed his worst suspicions.

“No, I- Please, keep in mind that I’m not good at interpreting this stuff, and I’m definitely forgetting a whole lot of details right now. It wasn't incoherent, just… self-contradictory, I suppose. But it looked intentional. I saw you trying to get that across, and it looked really beautiful. This isn't just flattery, by the way, I'm being painfully honest right now. It was beautiful, and I’d happily watch it again, over and over.”

“Wasn’t that bad, then,” Yoojung said under his breath.

Kyubin wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear that, so he allowed the conversation to fizzle out there, before it went south again.

Yoojung turned the radio back on, and the pleasant melodies accompanied them until they reached a parking spot near the beach. Despite a few other cars parked nearby, there were no people in sight, which was a relief.

“We can’t stay long if you want to make it back in time,” Kyubin warned as he turned off the engine. “Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”

Yoojung undid his seatbelt and got out of the car before Kyubin could pose the question whether he wanted to be followed.

Kyubin watched his own jacket flutter in the wind as Yoojung headed toward the beach, its motion eerily similar to the waves ahead. He saw Yoojung pull it tighter around himself, and something about that gesture made his insides itch with an unnamed longing. It wasn't even like he'd worn that jacket often, but at that moment, seeing how it shielded Yoojung from the cold wind, it felt like a part of him.

Deciding this train of thought was a little too sappy for his liking, he shook off the sentiment and exited the car.

Yoojung had already reached the sea by the time Kyubin stepped foot on the sand. Only a few small raindrops fell on his head as he walked, but the wet sand made it known that heavy rainfall was prevalent in the last hours.

He joined Yoojung in standing close to the waves forming and crashing with an irregular rhythm, the most ambitious ones reaching the tips of their shoes, and he took a deep breath of the faint, salty scent. Too many years have passed since his last trip to the beach. Too many summers wasted on work and enclosing himself in his four boring, gray walls.

Refusing to get caught up in a downward spiral of regret about the past, he looked over at the man next to him.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. Certainly not anything resembling overt happiness, but an optimistic spark in his eyes, a smile tinted with nostalgia, something that showed Yoojung knew he was going to be okay.

In reality, Yoojung didn't look nostalgic nor optimistic, but all his lethargy was seemingly gone. He appeared focused, deep in thought as his eyes slid across the waves like they offered answers written in sea foam.

After a moment of nothing but intense staring, he exhaled heavily. “Well, this is eye-opening, isn't it?”

His gloomy tone immediately put Kyubin on his toes. “What is?”

Yoojung spread his arms wide to indicate the sea before them. “The bigger picture. The real, moving picture, that for some reason I never stopped to consider my grandma might’ve been wrong about. Why did I never do that? Why the fuck am I only realizing this now?”

“What did you realize?” Kyubin asked tentatively, starting to regret the decision to bring him here.

“That my grandma was just old and she had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. I mean, what other explanation is there? How can anyone look at this, and think that waves never stay the same? They don't change. They move, sure, but they don't change. They're just really fucking repetitive and completely pointless.” He put his hands around his mouth and yelled at the sky, "Got news for you, grandma! Your metaphor is shit!"

"I think all she was trying to say is that hard times don't last forever,” Kyubin attempted to placate him.

"Yeah, cause life doesn't last forever. Right, grandma?!" He laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. "No, listen, it's fine. Eventually, you gotta face that you're just a tiny, useless ripple on a huge ocean, constantly crashing on the shore and never learning from it. Getting nowhere, reaching nothing, achieving nothing, and still coming back for more.”

Kyubin's gut twisted as he looked at the waves. He wished he didn't see the logic behind Yoojung's words as clearly as he did, but he understood how Yoojung felt at that moment with uncomfortable clarity. “No, this- this is nothing like you. I agree that it feels intimidating when the ocean is so vast and a single wave is so little and short-lived, but waves are just- they're wind and gravity moving the water. You're a person with a goal that you put a lot of effort into. There’s nothing pointless or useless about any of that.”

“No? Watch.” Yoojung kicked the sand, and the next wave erased any trace of the disruption. "See? Nothing changes, no matter what I do.”

He sat down on the sand and drew his knees to his chest, face hidden and ears covered, as if that could make the sea disappear.

Kyubin stayed still and quiet, afraid to rattle him even more.

A seagull perched on a wooden post nearby and looked at them with one eye. Kyubin observed it until the bird realized it wasn't getting any food and took off, and he followed it with his eyes until it turned into a small dot against the sky.

He hoped he wasn't making a mistake by placing his hand on Yoojung's head. To his surprise, Yoojung immediately pressed into his touch, and then leaned against his leg.

Kyubin stilled, unable to move even a finger in fear that the slightest shift would scare Yoojung away from this entirely new form of affection.

“I’m just so tired,” Yoojung whispered, and it was a wonder that Kyubin heard it over the crashing waves. “I'm tired of trying. Of thinking. Even feeling is exhausting.”

“There are good things about being able to feel,” Kyubin reminded him gently, taking a risk by moving his hand down the side of Yoojung’s head. “I know it’s difficult to believe now, but this will pass. It’s passed before, and it will pass again. You'll regain your passion and your energy.”

“It’s not just that. This audition, it… it feels like a sign that this is just how it's always meant to be. I can keep giving it my all, but it'll never be enough. It’s like I got stuck in a loop where the only thing that’s up to me is to stop or keep going. And I keep going, cause that’s just what I do. I always keep going. Even when the effort stopped making sense a long time ago.”

“You did get to the final round,” Kyubin pointed out. “I know it's not much consolation now, but you're clearly making progress. This was just another stepping stone, and now you're closer to your goal than ever before.”

Yoojung shook his head. “You saw how unprofessional I was while preparing for this audition. I blew my one shot at the best opportunity I've ever had because I was wasting time on stupid bullshit.”

“But that was just because of your episode, right? You don't control when they happen, so it wasn't your fault that that's how it went down.” It was only when he finished speaking that it dawned on him this was exactly the issue, and he wasn’t saying anything helpful.

“Exactly,” Yoojung said dryly, like he could hear Kyubin's thought process. “They were right not to accept me in. I'd just waste their time, like I wasted mine.”

Kyubin watched another wave break out and helplessly splurge on the sand. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how out of control life must feel when one’s own mind can’t be trusted to stick to its principles.

“Do you feel betrayed by the sea?” he asked. When all Yoojung did was give him a half-tired, half-annoyed look, he clarified, “I know how that sounded, but this was an important symbol to you. It must hurt to see it in an entirely different light for the first time, especially when you need it most.”

“Yeah,” Yoojung sighed. “It's not great.”

Kyubin cast his gaze to the horizon where the clouds were beginning to clear. “It’s quite a sight though, isn't it? I think I could spend an entire day looking at it, from sunrise to sunset.”

“I know you're going somewhere with this, but I'm not in the mood to decode another metaphor.”

“I’m not entirely sure where I'm going with this either,” Kyubin laughed nervously. “I just don't think this is something to get discouraged over. Nobody sees a pointless struggle when they look at the sea. They see something worth admiring. I see a nice place to bring someone I care about to cheer him up.”

He felt Yoojung rub his cheek against his leg, and it made him feel only a little bit insane.

“Thanks for trying to make me less miserable,” Yoojung said quietly.

“Is it working?”

“Not really. But thanks anyway.” He pushed himself up to his feet and gave the sea one final resentful glance before turning on his heel. “Let's go. Responsibilities await.”

The whole way back to the car, Kyubin mulled over what he could do to prevent Yoojung from leaving this place feeling defeated. He did not like the idea that Yoojung might forever associate seeing his face with the defiled memory of things he used to hold special, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. The next best thing was to show Yoojung he had someone on his side to support him, and that seemed to be working out quite well for him so far.

He picked a different route this time, one that led along the sealine for a couple miles longer.

Yoojung’s eyes remained glued to the waves from the moment they got on the road. The view behind the window grew less and less gloomy with every passing minute, but the clearing sky didn't reflect Yoojung's attitude. Somewhere in his head, the thief was working to convince him of horrible lies, and Kyubin had to fight back. Even if Yoojung didn't start believing in himself afterwards, at least he would hear that someone else does.

He waited until they were back on the highway to turn down the volume of the radio. “Listen, I just want to say that if you choose to take a break from auditions, I completely understand. It's not easy when the people making these decisions have such high standards, and you should do what you think is best for you. I just… I think it’s easy to get discouraged when those are the people you focus on, but those aren’t the people you’re doing this for, right? You want to reach an audience that feels something when they look at your work, and there are people out there who haven't had the chance to see your work yet. When they do, they will experience it so deeply that they will carry a piece of it with themselves for the rest of their lives. And who knows, maybe some already have. They just haven't told you.”

Yoojung made a noncommittal sound, not taking his eyes off the views behind the window. “Sounds like holding on to false hope. But go ahead, believe that if you want. I'm not doing this again.”

Kyubin was ready to give up right then and there, but before he could turn up the volume of the inappropriately cheerful harp piece, Yoojung turned to him.

“I was reading all the comments under our practice videos this week. Saw lots of compliments there. Some about my outfits, some about my hair, some with timestamps for a moment when I looked sexy, or handsome, or pretty.” He shrugged, looking down at the jacket in his lap. “It got me thinking how many people would care about my dancing if they didn't think I’m hot.”

“A lot of them,” Kyubin assured him. “Some might be shallow, yes, but I saw comments that were more thoughtful than that. They see how much thought you put into every single detail, and they see your passion. I don’t think it devalues their opinion if they also think you’re attractive on top of that.”

“Don’t know why I brought this up,” Yoojung muttered. “You’re, like, the prime example of what I’m talking about.”

Kyubin wished this comment didn’t get under his skin as much as it did, but a part of him had to admit Yoojung was right. No matter how strongly he believed Yoojung’s talent was an objective truth that was plain for anyone to see, he struggled to put himself in the shoes of someone not attracted to him. That rendered any opinion he had on the subject pretty useless.

“Don’t take my word for it, then. Those who stopped to watch you in the park did so because they were impressed with your performance. Well, granted, that one woman asked for your phone number, but the rest was-”

“The rest stopped because I was making a spectacle of myself,” Yoojung said dispassionately. “They would’ve stopped for anything that moved.”

Kyubin pushed down the helpless frustration at Yoojung’s insistence to find the bleakest possible explanation. Some of this negativity was starting to seep into his own mindset, persuading him to stop looking for methods of encouragement since he couldn’t come up with anything convincing that would also be grounded in reality. He sold Yoojung an overly hopeful fantasy once, and he wasn’t going to do that again.

Yoojung also seemed to come to the conclusion that there was nothing left to say, because he turned the music back up and faced away from Kyubin as much as he could within the confines of his seatbelt, putting a clear end to the conversation.

For the next twenty or so minutes, Kyubin got to know the full scope of how truly uncomfortable silence could be.

He hated leaving Yoojung to sit alone with his thoughts. He could almost hear how they ate away at his self-esteem, regurgitating the thief’s lies and overshadowing everything he knew to be true about himself. Not even an orchestra with a full string section could drown that out.

When he saw a sign for a gas station, he made a turn for it, with no plan in mind other than to put a stop to this unsettling agitation that’s been appearing in his chest as of late.

“Do you need the bathroom?” he asked after turning off the engine. “Or a coffee, or something to eat?”

Yoojung didn’t acknowledge that he heard the questions in any way. All he did was lean his head against the window.

“Alright then,” Kyubin said lightly, doing his best not to sound distraught. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

While filling up the tank, he saw Yoojung staring blankly out the window at nothing in particular. It was eerie how little expression there was on his face, how little proof of the bright flame that used to warm Kyubin's hands whenever he stepped close.

For some reason, this made him think about a possible future in which he would be faced with the thief again, perhaps in a few weeks or months. Perhaps he could learn enough about Yoojung by then to read his needs from a single look, no matter how little it communicated.

He didn't know if a future like that was possible, but one thing was certain - he wanted to try his hardest to create it.

Before going up to the counter to pay, he looked around the shop and picked a chocolate bar at random, and placed it on the dashboard in front of Yoojung when he got back to the car. “Here, I bought this for you. I don’t know what type you like, but I hope this one’s fine.”

To his relief, Yoojung showed interest in the gift. He rotated it in his hands very slowly, making small, careful tears in the paper until he finally revealed enough of the inside to break off a piece and put it in his mouth.

Kyubin put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it to keep the silence going for a little longer. “I know this doesn't mean much coming from me,” he started, noticing that Yoojung stopped chewing, “but I really think the stuff you do is amazing. Maybe I wouldn’t feel as strongly about it if I didn’t like you, but I do like you, and I do feel strongly about it. The very first time I saw you, you were dancing around with a mop instead of cleaning the floor, and that was enough to make me want to keep looking at you. And then you performed something right in front of me, just because you wanted to share the result of your hard work, and it was more than just beautiful. It was poignant, and vivid, and staggering to watch. If I was passing by that night and saw you perform for someone else, I would have done everything in my power for a chance to see you dance again.”

“My number one fan,” Yoojung said, and his tone made Kyubin assume he was being sarcastic until Yoojung shifted in his seat and offered him a piece of chocolate. “I know I don't look like it, but I’m glad you're here with me. All of this sucks less when you're around.”

The chocolate melting on Kyubin's tongue wasn’t as sweet as those words. “Really?”

Yoojung gave him a small nod. “Really. You’re making it easier to remember how I look at everything when I’m not… all of this. I know I’ll believe you eventually. That’s as much as I can do right now.”

“That’s enough,” Kyubin told him. “That’s already a lot.”

He stopped near Ultimate Bliss to drop Yoojung off eight minutes before his shift was about to begin.

Yoojung undid his belt, but instead of leaving the car, he started folding up the jacket slowly and neatly. “I wish we could do nothing but this for the rest of the week,” he said. “Drive around in your car, listen to music, see new places. Pretend our normal lives don’t exist.”

Kyubin smiled as he observed Yoojung’s fingers smoothing out a wrinkle on the material. “We'll definitely go on another trip when we both have time. And even if we don’t have time, we'll run away for a day or two.”

“We should pick a time when it’ll actually be fun for us both.” He handed Kyubin the jacket, and seeing as he could have put it anywhere in the car, it felt meaningful that he chose to put it in Kyubin’s hands.

Kyubin took it, gladly accepting the opportunity to brush his hand against his. “Would you like me to visit you after work today?”

“You’re not sick of listening to me grumble yet?”

“I think the more important question is, if you feel the need to grumble later, don't you want someone to listen?”

“No. Not someone. Just you.”

Kyubin held his gaze, and for a second, it felt like Yoojung wouldn't mind if he were to lean forward and kiss him goodbye. Before he could act on it though, Yoojung turned away and got out of the car with a quick “Bye.”

During his drive to work, Kyubin had to talk himself out of taking a sudden turn to extend his holiday until the next morning. Although he sent in a notice that he would be late, he still missed a pretty important meeting, and something like that wouldn't escape scrutiny. He hadn’t missed work since the day of his grandfather’s funeral.

But he was too old to get a jittery stomach over something so inconsequential. He made the decision to prioritize Yoojung over work, and that was something a person living for himself would do. Regardless of the consequences, he was a step closer to his goal.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the building that he remembered there was another reason to be nervous - there was someone around here who was carrying his secret. Even if it hadn’t spread in the form of a rumor yet, it was still a vital piece of information that could be used against him at the worst possible moment. It was hard not to sit on pins and needles when every presence nearby ignited that fear all over again.

If a higher power existed, it must have decided the past two weeks were distressing enough for him, because the rest of the day was wholly uneventful. Nobody acted suspiciously, no probing questions came his way, and even his boss seemed to be absent.

He was heading to the parking lot, wondering if Yoojung would find him a bit overenthusiastic if he were to come in with another gift, when an excited voice called from behind.

“Hey! Are you free this evening?”

He turned to find Yongsoo walking over with a wide smile. Great timing, he thought. If any of his colleagues came out with an offer to hang out a few days earlier, he might have actually agreed.

“Thank you, but not tonight. I've got some business to take care of.”

“Oh, come on! Wookjin and Jisung are already waiting in a bar, why don’t you come along? And before you say no, I'm supposed to remind you that relaxing after work is important, and you should prioritize your health more, yadda yadda.”

“You can tell Wookjin I’m grateful for his concern, but this isn’t related to work.” He wasn't sure what possessed him to add, “I'm actually meeting up with someone.”

“Mhm, I see,” Yongsoo drawled with a knowing smirk, a testament to how recently he graduated adolescence. “Meeting up, you say.”

“Yes, Yongsoo, adults do that sometimes,” Kyubin deadpanned. “Is this your first time hearing of it?”

“No, but it's my first time hearing of you meeting up with someone.” His eyes lit up. “Is there going to be a wedding? Can I get an invite!?”

“No, you can’t.” He realized his tone was too harsh when a hurt look flicked across Yongsoo's face, and he rushed to explain, “There isn't going to be a wedding. If there was, of course you’d be invited. You’d be one of the first people invited.”

“Oh, I see!” Yongsoo brightened up right away. “I’ve never been to a wedding, so I hope you’ll have one. It would be so cool.”

Kyubin tried to sound unbothered when he said, “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”

Yongsoo’s expression turned more serious all of a sudden. He hesitated before speaking, which was an unusual sight. “I’m wishing you well. All three of us are. I just wanted to say that.”

Kyubin narrowed his eyes. “You, I understand, but why would Wookjin and Jisung have any opinion about this?”

“What? No, I didn’t tell them anything! I mean- Ugh, please, don’t be mad. I only told them that you’re having some relationship trouble, but they won't tell anyone, they’re so good at keeping secrets, better than anyone I’ve ever met, so they won’t-”

“You're the one who was in the bathroom yesterday,” Kyubin interrupted his rambling, not even trying to hide how relieved that made him.

“I'm so, so sorry that I didn’t leave. I didn’t want to interrupt because it sounded like a serious conversation, but I was covering my ears the whole time so I heard only a little bit, I swear!”

“How much?”

Yongsoo waved his hands defensively. “Almost nothing! Just the beginning when you asked her if she's mad at you, and then a few words out of context.”

Kyubin couldn't hold back an amused snort. “Alright, I guess you really didn't hear a lot.” He shook his head in answer to Yongsoo’s confused look. “Don't worry about it. I should have taken the call elsewhere in the first place. I'd also appreciate it if you didn't gossip about me behind my back, but I suppose I can't stop you.”

He expected Yongsoo to apologize again, but all he got was a smile that appeared oddly fond. “It’s hard not to gossip with those two. I tried not to do that at first, but a few drinks in, it's impossible. We just talk and talk, and the rest of the world disappears.”

As much as Kyubin tried to curb his curiosity about what exactly was going on in that trio, it was becoming impossible. So far, he had too many mismatched pieces. Was the excitement with which Yongsoo reacted to even a small mention of Wookjin purely friendly? That seemed equally as likely as Wookjin and Jisung not being an item, which was to say, not likely at all. Perhaps Yongsoo was just the least jealous person the world had ever seen.

“You’ve been spending time with them a lot recently,” Kyubin remarked, trying not to sound too invested. “When you go out without other colleagues or friends, is it always the three of you?”

Yongsoo nodded. “They always save one day a week to go out alone. It’s so cool that they're letting me come along now. Speaking of which, I gotta run. Have fun on your date!”

“Thanks. You too.”

Instead of getting flustered and vehemently denying it, Yongsoo laughed. “You did that thing where the waiter says Have a nice meal and someone replies You too.”

Kyubin also laughed, still not any less confused than before. “Yes, that's exactly what I did.”

Nothing about the café was visibly different. The scent of spices hung in the air, the lights gave a pleasant glow, even the music playing underneath the chatter sounded familiar, but right from the threshold, Kyubin sensed the place wasn't the same.

All it took was one look at the lifeless expression behind Yoojung's eyes as he got through the pleasantries of customer interaction, and he realized exactly why nothing seemed as it did before. Sadness hung heavy in the air, permeating every corner of the place Yoojung wished to leave behind, and nobody but Kyubin could see it.

He wished he wasn’t approaching the counter with empty hands, but if Yoojung was to be believed, his presence was enough. He wasn’t sure he did believe that, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying his hardest to prove Yoojung wasn’t wrong to think that.

“I’m guessing this hasn’t been the most pleasant evening,” he said with a sympathetic smile and accepted the cup placed in front of him.

“No, I'm having so much fun,” Yoojung said with a subtle eye roll.

“Anything you want to get off your chest?”

“Yeah,” he sighed heavily. “There were these three guys today who- no, you know what, I’m not even gonna start. You talk. Tell me something fun.”

Kyubin grinned as he took a sip of hot chocolate. “I don’t think I mentioned Yongsoo to you before. He’s sort of been my mentee for a while. He overheard us talking on the phone, and now he’s looking forward to being invited to our wedding. I’m not sure if that’s more funny or weird, though.”

Yoojung tilted his head. “Why weird? Because he assumed you’re dating a woman?”

There was a trace of something familiar in how he was looking at Kyubin; an interest unsatisfied even in the face of pointlessness. The warmth spreading in Kyubin’s chest rivaled the temperature of the cup between his palms.

“I get why he would make that assumption, and I’m kind of relieved he did. I don’t know. It’s weird that he of all people thinks I’m straight. I’ve suspected he’s had a thing for Wookjin for a while. I did mention Wookjin before, right?”

“The nepo baby?”

Kyubin snorted into his cup. “I won't badmouth him since he’s a hard worker, but yes, that's the one. The thing is, I think Wookjin might be involved with another colleague of ours, Jisung. I'm not entirely sure what the dynamic between those three is, but they’ve all gotten close recently.”

“And you’re feeling left out,” Yoojung finished for him.

Kyubin wasn’t sure if he should nod or shake his head, so he did a vague combination of both. “They’ve been making efforts to include me for some time now, so I have no reason to feel left out. I guess it’s just… If Yongsoo thinks I’m straight, then all of them probably do. And if I’m right, and there really is at least one non-straight person working alongside me, I wouldn’t mind them knowing that I’m here, too.”

Yoojung’s gaze on him felt soft. “It’s a risk, but it might be worth it. And if it goes wrong, quitting is always an option.”

For such an innocuous sentence, it felt quite radical to imagine himself quitting Adding Gold after all these years. But Yoojung was right to be so nonchalant about this idea. Nothing tied him down to the company other than the comfort of sticking to what’s familiar. The city offered plenty of accounting positions, and his resume was solid.

Oddly enough, considering such a huge step didn’t feel daunting. There was something exciting about the sense of power he was gaining over his life. He just hoped it would hold for long enough that he could come to a real decision about this.

“You’re right,” he told Yoojung with a smile. “It is always an option.”

“Look here, boy,” a sharp voice cut through their conversation, and Kyubin saw all that was carefree evaporate from Yoojung in an instant.

He took a deep breath before turning to the customer. “How can I help, sir?”

The man, who appeared to be in his fifties, pointed with a fork to a plate he was holding. “What is this supposed to mean, hm?”

Yoojung’s tired gaze focused on the cake. “I can offer another piece, no additional pay.”

“Save it, I’ve lost my appetite. For the good of everyone who eats here, wear a hairnet if you're so set on being modern.”

“Would you like a refund?” Yoojung offered, forcing politeness into his drained tone.

“Oh, I see. You think everything is about money, don't you? Honestly, this generation. You can't talk sense into anybody, they all think they know better. Let me ask you this, have you done your duty of serving in the military?”

“Not yet.”

“No, of course not, and it shows. Enlist tomorrow for your own good, make your country proud. This-” he gestured to Yoojung's whole person- “is a gimmick you better grow out of fast if you want to-”

“Excuse me, sir,” Kyubin said in his utmost polite tone. “If your only objective here is harassing the staff, I'm going to ask you to leave.”

“Who's harassing who? The service I'm paying for isn't good enough. I'm giving this young man advice on how to conduct himself better.”

“And I'm sure he's very grateful for your advice, but as you can see, we'll be closing soon.”

“We?” The man’s gaze zeroed in on Kyubin’s long hair suspiciously. “What have you got to say around here?”

Kyubin straightened his back and puffed out his chest a bit more. “I'm the owner. I apologize for my staff’s behavior, and I will make sure an incident like this never happens again. Have a good night, sir.”

The man muttered to himself as he put the cake down on the counter, but didn’t try to put up a fight.

After the door closed behind him, Yoojung closed his eyes and deflated with a shallow sigh. “Please, don't do that again. But thank you.”

Kyubin glanced at the clock. “There’s only three minutes till closing time. What would you like to do then?”

Yoojung shrugged. “Sleep for a week?”

“How about we start at one night of solid sleep? Actually, wait, I said we. You can sleep alone if you want, it's not like I can't-”

“I want to sleep somewhere else tonight. Preferably in a bed that's big and comfortable.” He gave Kyubin a pointed look. “Know any bed like that?”

The offer to take him back to his place was on the tip of Kyubin’s tongue, but what came out was, “How about a hotel room?”

Yoojung glared at him, and it took Kyubin a moment to realize why.

“Just to sleep,” he quickly clarified. “I know how that sounded, but I have no ulterior motive. I’d pay for it since it's my idea, but we can just relax, watch TV, that type of stuff.”

“I haven't paid you back for groceries or gas yet,” Yoojung pointed out.

“You really don’t have to,” Kyubin argued half-heartedly. “But if you want to, there’s no rush. The next time we go out, you can pick what we do and pay, and then we’ll be even.”

“So many extra steps. Got no free bed to offer me?”

“I… I do have one. And it is big, and comfortable. But it's also not that great. My apartment, I mean.” He knew he was acting weird, and that saying yes to this should have felt like a no-brainer, but he wasn't prepared for Yoojung to suggest this now. The timing was all off.

Yoojung's first night in his bed couldn't culminate with him waking up to white walls and empty spaces, feeling like he’d been dragged to the most depressing bedroom in the world. It was supposed to follow a carefree evening filled with thrills, laughter and struggling to keep their hands off each other, so that when he woke up the next morning, he’d be certain that he wanted to wake up in Kyubin’s bed again, and again, and again.

“I'm not gonna judge how your apartment looks,” Yoojung said, his expression not betraying how much of that was true. “You've seen how I live.”

Kyubin stopped himself before he could confess that this was precisely the problem. No matter how limited Yoojung's budget was, he was dedicated to making his place feel like a home. Purchasing 1400 square feet of floor space only to neglect most of it was downright embarrassing in comparison to that.

“It just seems a bit dreary on some nights,” he said. “That's all. You should spend tonight somewhere with a splash of color.”

Yoojung’s apprehension was plain to see, but he nodded. “Hotel it is, then.”

While he was closing up, Kyubin pulled up the search results for hotels in the area and rounded them down to the three best. He showed him the options when Yoojung came over to the counter to wipe it down. “Here, take your pick. This one is a little more expensive, but it has a jacuzzi.”

Yoojung barely threw a glance at the screen. “It’s your money, you pick.”

Kyubin put his phone down, observing Yoojung’s face carefully. He looked like he was clenching his jaw tightly, and his knuckles were turning white. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because if you hate the idea, I'll stop making a fuss and take you back to mine.”

“I don't hate the idea,” Yoojung said, the controlled irritation underlying his words unmistakable. “The only idea I hate is sleeping in my own bed. If you think this is the better option, you must have your reasons.”

Looking at how viciously he was scrubbing the counter made Kyubin want to take his hands and treat them gentler than they've ever been before. “I do want to invite you over eventually. I hope you’re not doubting that.”

“Not loving the word eventually,” Yoojung said through clenched teeth.

“Soon. Very soon. I just- Can you look at me?” He waited until Yoojung finished taking out his emotions on a coffee stain and threw the rag down. “I know it’s selfish, but… I want your first night at my place to leave a good impression. I want you to enjoy being there. And I don’t, a lot of the time. Especially recently. At the very least, I should clean up a bit before I show you how I’ve been living for the past few years.”

The anger slowly evaporated from Yoojung. “So we’re both just trying to run away from our own beds?”

“Yeah. That’s all there is to it.”

Yoojung nodded and took off his apron. “Just don’t pick the fanciest one.”

Kyubin picked the second fanciest.

The room turned out to not be the vast, modern kind that he had envisioned after seeing the pictures, nor was the view from the windows something to behold, but it was still a better alternative to his apartment. The walls were light blue instead of dull white, the carpet was so lush that it demanded to be stepped on with bare feet, and the whole room gave an impression of being cared for.

Yoojung headed for the bathroom right after taking his shoes off while Kyubin busied himself with skipping through the channels in search of a movie to pass the time. After a few minutes of failing to find anything worth paying attention to, he decided to check out what the mini bar offered, just in case it had any non-alcoholic options.

He was looking for information about the alcohol content on a bottle of apple cider when he heard the bathroom door open.

“I started the bath,” Yoojung announced. “It's big enough for two people.”

Kyubin turned around to respond, but all words escaped him when he caught Yoojung’s eyes staring at him. He was standing in the open door, shirtless, slowly taking off his pants. Nothing about the way he moved was particularly enticing, but his gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on Kyubin, so it felt like a command to pay attention.

He allowed his gaze to follow Yoojung’s hands, trying to walk the line between polite interest and outright gawking. He wasn't sure what exactly this was, or was about to become, but he knew better than to ask and disrupt the delicate balance hanging in the silence. If nothing else, it felt like a sign of trust. Or, perhaps more accurately, it felt like a test of how deep Yoojung could allow his trust to run without getting hurt again.

Kyubin waited patiently until Yoojung finished taking off his clothes, and then allowed his feet to guide him closer.

“You're gonna keep all your clothes on?” Yoojung asked as he threw his briefs to the side. He sounded like the answer didn’t matter to him, but Kyubin sensed there was a question behind it all. Now that you've seen me, all of me, will you look away?

“No,” he replied simply, feeling a tremor of nervous excitement as he began taking off his clothes.

The nervousness wasn’t about not having any shadows cover his body. No, standing bare underneath bright lights was the exciting part. It was the perspective of putting all of himself on display and leaving nothing concealed from that all-noticing stare that put a little hesitation in his movements. He could pick his words as carefully as he could, but he couldn't hide what his body felt.

When he finally stood naked, Yoojung regarded him in a way that didn't hold much interest. He turned back into the bathroom without another word, and Kyubin took a deep, slow breath before stepping onto the cold tiles after him.

The bathtub was already filled up, with bubbles floating on the surface and the smell of lavender in the air.

Kyubin watched Yoojung lower himself into the water until it reached up to his chest, then take one of the two sponges placed by the tub. Instead of handing it to Kyubin, he started unhurriedly washing his arms.

Taking those last few steps to join him seemed like an enormous venture all of a sudden. If Yoojung entrusted him with the task of washing him again, Kyubin would have understood what the boundaries of the situation were. As it were, all he could do was struggle against the urge to eroticize the sight of Yoojung touching himself all over, and try his very best not to envision the details of what his hands got up to when they slid under the surface.

Yoojung seemed entirely oblivious to the quiet turmoil he was causing, because all he said was, “Come in before the water gets cold.”

Kyubin bit the inside of his cheek, balled his hands into fists, dug his nails into his skin, and headed to take his place on the other end of the tub.

As soon as warm water engulfed his body, a large part of the tension in his muscles washed away. He rested his arms on the porcelain rim and sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. Neglecting life's simple pleasures was worth it for moments like this. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so relaxed, and now, relaxation was all he could feel.

He didn't notice that he’d straightened his legs until he felt Yoojung's foot rest against his inner thigh. He lifted his eyelids a little, just enough to see what Yoojung was doing, and by then, he was all out of willpower to police his thoughts. Every small movement Yoojung made sent ripples across the surface to tease his skin, and each one was a reminder of how this routine type of nakedness changed its meaning entirely with another person present. Wherever Yoojung's hands wandered, Kyubin’s attention followed, lingering where they lingered, transfixed by the sheen of water on his skin.

His attempts to pretend he was entirely nonchalant about this were always doomed to fail, anyway.

To retain a bit of self-control, he grabbed the other sponge and busied his hands before they could do something heedless, but even then, he drank in the sight and absentmindedly copied each of Yoojung’s actions.

“Miss washing me already?” Yoojung asked. Despite no emotion in his tone, there was something faintly playful in the glance he threw Kyubin’s way.

Kyubin swallowed and didn’t answer, not feeling up to forming any coherent sentence.

It still made him dizzy to know how much desire for this one man his body was able to contain. Too much time went by with other feelings clouding this very basic, carnal hunger, and now, it was hitting him all at once. All because he received the tiniest crumb of proof that Yoojung might be deriving some enjoyment from teasing him like this, putting all of himself just slightly out of reach and reminding Kyubin of everything he could still have if he tried hard enough.

He didn’t register that his body was moving until his thumb touched Yoojung’s lips and his fingers curled around his jaw where it angled upward. He both felt and saw Yoojung's mouth part slightly, and the warm exhale against his skin forced his focus up, to Yoojung’s calm, unshaken eyes.

Their breaths and a drop of water falling from the faucet were the only sounds filling the silence. Then, Yoojung pressed into his touch just a little more, and Kyubin lurched forward to cover his mouth with his.

A short brush of lips was all it took to bring all of his hunger to the surface, and every subsequent touch was purely self-indulgent. He nuzzled the side of Yoojung’s nose, pushed his fingers into his hair and chased the roughness of clumsily shaved facial hair grazing his skin, reveling in the gentle thrill each of these things brought forth.

Yoojung's hands remained steady on his shoulders, but that was fine. He was there, holding onto him, and Kyubin didn’t need him to put any more effort in. Once he was done feasting his senses on all the things he’d missed and ached for, his touch became more generous. His hands wandered lower, enticed by how smoothly they could glide across Yoojung’s body, and every inch of skin they covered, they did so with the intention to make Yoojung feel just how profoundly wanted he was.

When he reached his waist, he couldn't contain the desire to move down to his thighs, but that's where he stopped. Underneath the buzz filling his head and nullifying all thoughts, he could feel that Yoojung was simply following along, not nearly as breathless as Kyubin was. His mouth pliantly welcomed every kiss in a way that couldn't be called passionate, but there were enough signs pointing to a genuine wish for this to be happening that Kyubin didn’t overthink the few things that felt one-sided. All he did was squeeze Yoojung’s thighs and wait for a signal that he could do something beyond this.

Yoojung's hand wrapped around his cock so suddenly that his body tensed, causing his teeth to harshly bite down on his own lip. He felt Yoojung's other hand grab the back of his neck, keeping him in place and encouraging him to initiate another kiss. He ignored the stinging pain and complied with his wish, finally allowing his hand to slide between Yoojung's legs.

The first thing he noticed was how soft Yoojung was in his hold, such a stark contrast to how affected Kyubin felt by even the gentlest touch. He didn't have time to consider what it meant before Yoojung’s hand set into motion, and he temporarily lost all ability to think.

He rested his forehead on Yoojung's shoulder and breathed, conscious of not being too loud so he wouldn't be forced to hear his own voice echo against the tiles. So many intoxicating scents intermingled in the air around them, filling his lungs and wrapping around every part of him that wanted Yoojung deeper and deeper, whether he was close or far away.

It was way too easy to disregard everything that wasn't Yoojung's touch and the warmth surrounding them. He almost entirely forgot that he was still holding Yoojung's cock and not doing anything to help him enjoy this more.

Immediately upon realizing his mistake, he tried to make up for it by settling into an energetic tempo and kissing down his neck with all the fervor required of an apology.

It was disorienting to notice no reaction from Yoojung at all. No hitch in his breath, no hum of enjoyment, no eager grind of his hips to receive more of the sensations Kyubin was creating. It didn't feel like he disliked how he was being touched; he just didn't seem to care at all.

The only alternative to repeating his mistake was to try harder, so he did. His mouth moved down to Yoojung’s neck again, trying to remember what he did last time that got the sweetest sound out of him, and his other hand joined the first one in figuring out different ways to summon heat where it was most needed, all while making every stroke as pleasurable as he knew how.

Yoojung’s hand finally moved from its spot on the back of Kyubin's neck and traveled down to his chest, only to then grab Kyubin’s hand and move it out from between his legs.

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “Leave it.”

The meaning of those words didn’t get through to Kyubin at first since Yoojung’s hand persisted in its effort to get him off, but then they cut through the distracting pleasure and resonated clearly.

“You're not turned on,” he whispered cautiously, not sure if it was a question or a statement.

“I can ignore it if you can.”

Kyubin settled his unoccupied hands on Yoojung's back tentatively, his lips close to touching his shoulder, but not coming into contact just yet.

He wanted to ask Yoojung why he would even suggest something like this, but he was acutely aware of any word or gesture that could be interpreted as rejection. Yoojung was making this happen, so he had a reason. Kyubin wasn't going to ruin everything by questioning his motives.

Except now that he knew Yoojung wasn't into this as much as he was, his body's unsatiated craving wasn't enough to cloud how much all of this felt like an uneven transaction. As thrilling as it was to have the hand he'd missed in the most intimate of places, he was ashamed not to have noticed earlier how little desire to be touching him in this way Yoojung exhibited. The pace and rhythm with which he moved his hand didn't change since the very first stroke; each one was slow, monotonous, predictable, like he was propelled by obligation more than anything else.

Before the ever-growing unease could propel Kyubin to say something he'd inevitably regret, Yoojung wrapped his free arm around his shoulders and drew him closer, his face pressing into the crook of Kyubin's neck, more insistent and desperate than anything he’d done so far.

Kyubin stayed perfectly still, his breaths slowing down and syncing with Yoojung's. He hoped that by not focusing on the unchanging motion of Yoojung's hand so much, he could find more hints that his suspicions were wrong, but the arm around his shoulders remained the only proof. It held onto him tightly, and the only certainty Kyubin could derive from it was that some part of Yoojung wanted some part of this.

That should have been enough to convince him to let go of all worries and lose himself in the pleasure Yoojung was offering so selflessly, but he couldn’t make his body act like it did before. The impulse pushing his hands to touch whatever they wanted disappeared with the knowledge that Yoojung wasn’t getting anything out of it. There was nothing arousing about feeling up a person who didn’t gasp and quiver under his attention.

It felt awkward to keep his hands idle and still on Yoojung’s back, so he gripped the sides of the bathtub instead. His body was still aching for release, but it was getting gradually harder to focus on that end goal. It was as if he couldn't entirely access the present moment anymore, and the more he tried, the harder it was to concentrate on the sensations his body was receiving. He needed something to latch onto that would distract him from deliberating if Yoojung liked how his cock fit in his hand, if Yoojung found the smell of his neck pleasant, if he wished Kyubin would whisper some encouragements instead of filling up the quiet in the bathroom with nothing but his heavy breathing.

Yoojung’s hand stopped moving, and only then did Kyubin realize he was limp in his hold.

“Shit,” he said under his breath, feeling mortified. “I'm sorry, this is not- You were doing really well, I just-”

“It happens,” Yoojung said, already pulling away before Kyubin could react. He didn't seem annoyed, but he didn't seem relieved, either. He just took a sponge as if nothing happened between them in the last few minutes, and stretched his arm behind himself to scrub his back.

Up until that point, Kyubin had been holding onto hope that Yoojung secretly found his restraint impressive, chivalrous, even; that he was used to men who expected more of him than he wanted to give, and he needed Kyubin to prove he wasn't one of them.

This hope seemed like nothing more than wishful thinking at that point.

Before he could find the right words to apologize and fix everything with, Yoojung stood up and got out of the bathtub.

“Wait,” Kyubin scrambled after him. “Please, let’s not- This isn’t because of you, it’s just-”

“Relax,” Yoojung said calmly while grabbing a towel. “I’m not mad.”

“But you’re disappointed. Rightfully so.”

Yoojung made a move like he was trying to shrug, but wasn't committed enough. “Got no reason to be. How your body reacts is out of your control.”

“I’m disappointed, too,” Kyubin told him, shivering from the difference in temperature. “In myself, not in you. I missed this, and… I really was enjoying it.”

Yoojung gave him a short glance before handing him a second towel. “What made you stop?”

“I could feel you weren’t enjoying it as much as I was,” Kyubin said, wrapping the towel around himself. “Which is fine, by the way, I know depressive episodes can have this side effect. I just don’t understand why you’d force yourself to do this.”

“So it felt forced?”

“No,” he denied immediately, sensing tension in Yoojung’s voice. “No, it felt really good. It just- It also felt like you were asking me to take advantage of you, a little bit.”

Yoojung frowned. “That makes no sense. You can't ask someone to take advantage.”

Kyubin spread his arms helplessly. “I really don’t know how else to explain this. Is it wrong that wanting you feels inappropriate when I can't even tell if you have any interest in actually having sex?”

Yoojung’s eyes fixed on him, and the few seconds of silence that followed felt heavy. “Is that how it felt the other day, too?”

“It did,” Kyubin admitted, ignoring the part of himself that only wished to answer in ways that kept Yoojung comfortable. “I'm guessing it didn't feel that way to you.”

“No, it didn't.”

“Can you tell me what was going through your head then?” Kyubin finally asked the words that had been festering inside him since that day. “If I know, I think I'll understand you a lot better. So… please?”

Yoojung slowed down in his efforts to dry himself. “Don't know. Not much. I was kind of all over the place, in case you didn't notice.”

“I see. Listen, we don't have to talk about this right now. I just want you to know that I really regret not trying harder to understand what you needed that night. I know it’s too late now, but I never want to make you feel like that again. When you feel like talking about it, I’d like to understand.”

The towel dropped to the floor, and Yoojung continued standing there, facing him with his arms down his body. He looked so vulnerable like this, especially when he quietly said, “It felt like you didn't care at all. Like it was too difficult to touch me all of a sudden.”

“It wasn't difficult,” Kyubin said firmly. “It was just a bit more complicated. You were in distress, and I didn't want to make things worse.”

“You were in distress the night before,” Yoojung whispered. “Didn't phase me. I did my best for you.”

“Well, yes, but- that's not the same.” Even as he said it, he felt a creeping wave of something paralyzing. What was he even saying? How was it not the same?

Yoojung huffed out an unamused laugh. “Sure.” He walked past Kyubin and paused by the door, his back turned away. “I told you how that night made me feel. You made the rest of the world disappear for a moment. I don't know how you did it, but I needed you to do it again, cause I had no idea how to get there on my own.”

He exited the bathroom, leaving Kyubin with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He'd never felt so much shame crash on him in a single moment, and the weight of it overpowered his impulse to run after Yoojung with a litany of apologies. All he could do was clutch the towel helplessly in his hands, transferring all confusing emotions onto the guiltless piece of cotton.

After everything Yoojung did for him that night, he didn’t even consider that those passive hands and lips might have been telling him it was his turn to show he cared enough to want something imperfect. That Yoojung quietly yearned for him to take control, and to guide them both with the same care and patience that had been offered to him the previous night. A simple return of a favor, and he failed at it.

It wasn't surprising that he failed. That was just what he did. He failed during their first night together, and he obliterated whatever might have become of the second. Even if he was given a chance to redo that day, he still would have failed; that much was plain to see. He couldn't even find enough calm within himself to kiss Yoojung back properly. The chances that he would’ve put a stop to the relentless blabbering of his inner worries and given Yoojung something good enough to compensate for the day he had were unbelievably low.

All of this filled him with a sense of such deep-seated inferiority that he had to shake himself out of it quickly before it overwhelmed him.

It wasn't like he didn't know how to be selfless when it came to sex. It was instinct to tune into another person's needs and mold himself into whatever they needed the most for the night. It just grew more difficult the more he cared. He became too cautious, too stiff, trapping himself in his own head and burdening Yoojung with having to be the calm one out of the two of them.

That didn't mean he was just going to accept he was destined for ineptitude. He wanted to break those invisible confines placed on himself and possess ownership over his body the way Yoojung had, the way everyone else seemed to. Even if it took him a hundred tries or however long Yoojung would have him, he was going to learn how to blow his mind unlike anyone before.

A brief second of panic seized him after he left the bathroom and saw that the room was empty, but then he noticed an open door leading to a balcony. He could see Yoojung standing there, a fleece robe hugging his body.

He grabbed the other robe from the closet and covered himself with it before joining Yoojung outside.

“I want to try again,” he proclaimed, calculating how many soju shots he should take to relax without decreasing the quality of his performance. “Forget what happened in the bathroom, that was- I was an idiot. We'll do anything you want right now. Anything at all.”

Yoojung’s back remained turned as he said, “The moment’s over, don't you think?”

“No, we can rebuild it. I can rebuild it. Just tell me how. Please.”

Slowly, Yoojung turned to him, a dark silhouette against the brightly lit up windows across the street. His face was indiscernible, and if Kyubin could, he would have pulled all the shadows right off his body. Darkness had no right to cling so closely to him.

“Just do what you did that night,” he said quietly, barely audible over the siren passing below.

Kyubin took a small step forward, observing every subtle shift in Yoojung's body language. It got more noticeable with the next step, and another; he saw Yoojung standing a bit straighter, his chin raised higher, his hands folding and unfolding behind his back, unsure of what position to take. Even in the dark, there was something unmistakably expectant about how his eyes followed Kyubin's every move, as if assessing whether their ideas of what should happen next were aligned.

Kyubin retraced the night in question in his head, trying to pinpoint what exactly it was that Yoojung remembered so fondly. A few moments came to mind right away, but there wasn't a specific action that connected them all. The only throughline was the tenderness guiding his hands to embrace rather than seize, caress rather than obtain.

Could it really be that simple after all?

His fingers brushed Yoojung's hair away from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear, tracing the edge of the shell. “I hope I'm getting this right,” he whispered, trying to decipher if the glimpse of longing in Yoojung's eyes was more than a trick of light.

Yoojung's hands remained folded behind his back, but he crossed the remaining space between them, leaving only soft fleece separating their bodies. Kyubin could discern his eyes well enough now to see that he appeared as wary as he did hopeful.

He leaned forward to settle his chin on Kyubin's shoulder, and Kyubin's arms closed around him at once, relief rushing through his body so suddenly that it almost made him lightheaded. His fingers laced through damp hair as he cradled the back of Yoojung's head, bringing him even closer by strengthening his embrace, and he could swear that his heart began to beat with doubled intensity when Yoojung's arms finally came up to wrap around him.

The exhale he let out felt like more than just air left his body, but also all the entangled emotions of the past two weeks. At last, everything felt simple and balanced. Yoojung was his, he was Yoojung's, and nothing beyond the places where their bodies met mattered.

His ear was so close to Yoojung’s face that he could hear each one of his breaths, and every slight variation between each one. Some were deeper, some shakier, some taken suddenly as if in surprise. Kyubin didn't need to hear him say that somewhere within this embrace, he found the missing piece he'd been looking for. That enthralling unity which made the world disappear was still there, waiting to be rediscovered.

They stayed like this for a blissful minute with the cool air of a late summer night surrounding them as they surrounded each other.

After a while, the tiles under Kyubin's bare feet were starting to feel a little too cold for comfort.

When he shifted slightly in place to get the circulation going, Yoojung's hold tightened. “Not yet.”

Kyubin smiled into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. It's just a little cold out here. How about we take this to bed?”

Yoojung didn't respond right away, and his hands clutched the back of Kyubin's robe more firmly. “And what do you imagine us doing there?”

“On a scale from nothing to everything? Whatever you want.”

“I want us to take these stupid robes off. And then-” He sighed. “No, forget it.” He stepped out of Kyubin's hold until he was backed against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest, leaving Kyubin's front exposed to a chill wind.

“Go with what you feel like doing,” Kyubin told him, wrapping the robe more tightly around himself. “I'll meet you in the middle regardless of what it is.”

Yoojung shook his head. “Whatever I choose, it's not gonna change anything.”

Kyubin took the risk of stepping closer to him. When he didn't sense any resistance, he touched Yoojung's forearm, and he waited until Yoojung uncrossed his arms to hold his hands. “When you say anything, what do you mean? What do you want to change right now?”

Yoojung’s gaze followed Kyubin’s thumb as it brushed his skin. “I really hate how the timing worked out for us,” he said quietly. “We didn't even get a week to enjoy each other before all of this shit went down. We should've been going on dates every day, making out, laughing, fucking, pretending life is easy as long as we ignore everything that isn't us. You deserve something like that. Something normal.”

“We’ll get to have all of that,” Kyubin assured him, no doubt in him that he was speaking the truth. “It got a bit delayed, but we're on the right track now. Besides, whatever normal is, it was never us. It's not something we ever have to be.”

Yoojung pulled his hands out of his hold and turned toward the street. “You can tell me if you're not excited to be with me anymore,” he said in the same tone he’d been saying a lot of things lately; like none of it mattered. “Better let me know now instead of regretting it later when everything gets too complicated.”

“No.” Kyubin grabbed the sleeve of his robe. “Yoojung, listen. I'm being incredibly serious when I tell you that I've never been more excited for anything. All those things you just described, I want them too, but that doesn’t mean days like today aren’t worth it. I'm grateful that you're letting me get to know you better, and I'm looking forward to whatever’s ahead. Time with you is all I really want.”

Yoojung didn’t look his way, but his hand found the belt of Kyubin’s robe. “You mean it?”

“I mean it. Face it, it's impossible for me to stop caring about you now.” And that, that felt like a real confession. Spontaneous, heavy on his tongue, accelerating his pulse, dense with meanings and promises that something as common as I like you didn't carry.

Slowly, Yoojung faced him again. Even in this light, Kyubin could see how exhausted he was by the day he had, which made it all the more precious when he returned Kyubin’s gesture by tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “We’d be making a mess of that bed right now if I could make myself want it,” he said softly. “But you were right. I was forcing it.”

“Did you feel like you had to do it for me? Because I paid for the room or because I helped you with some things?”

Yoojung seemed to consider the question seriously. “Mostly for you, yeah. But not in the way you think. I just want things to feel normal again. I hate that I got myself a guy this hot, and nice, and sweet, only for your dick to seem like the least interesting thing about you.”

“It really isn’t that remarkable,” Kyubin joked lightly. “I don’t mind waiting for when you do find it more interesting. I'm used to sex being infrequent in my life, anyway. Knowing that you'll want it again is enough.”

Yoojung put his arms around Kyubin's waist, and there was something shyly keen about him when he said, “Thing is, I liked how it felt back there. In the bath. It didn't turn me on, but it was nice. And as long as you were hard, I had an excuse to keep it going.”

Kyubin nodded slowly, putting together all the hints as to why Yoojung was driven to do things that seemed counterintuitive. The picture of what's been going on inside his head was so much clearer now. Perhaps the only reason he insisted on causing heat to circle throughout Kyubin's body was to get a shred of warmth for himself.

“You want us to keep touching, but without crossing the line into sex,” Kyubin summed up. “Have I got that correctly?”

Yoojung’s head slumped down to rest on Kyubin’s shoulder as suddenly as if his neck gave out, and his sigh penetrated the thick robe. “It sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Kyubin said, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Yoojung’s head just in case he had any ideas about moving away anytime soon. “People hug when they’re naked all the time, right?”

“Yeah, after they’re done fucking each other,” Yoojung mumbled into the material. “They don't get naked to have a cuddle. And if they did, they'd end up fucking anyway. That’s just how it goes.”

Although it sounded true, there was a part of Kyubin that questioned whether this rule had to apply to them. Holding Yoojung with no barriers between their bodies was bound to provoke his senses a lot more when he still had so much tension pent up inside him, but that wasn't why his chest ached at the thought of laying down together like this, naked and intertwined.

“Maybe my lack of experience with anything that's not casual sex is showing right now,” he started slowly, “but I believe there is space between us for something that blurs the line. We can touch without sex being involved. Whether we’re both naked or not.”

The lapels of Kyubin's robe parted a little, and Yoojung's nose pressed against his skin. Even an action as simple as that was enough to send a shiver of joy through Kyubin’s body, which made it all the more frustrating to hear Yoojung say, “It's not gonna work. Not tonight. You'll just get horny again, and I won't care enough to get you off properly.”

“I'd never do anything you're not comfortable with. You know that, right?”

Yoojung scoffed softly. “I’d be the one making you uncomfortable. I'm not gonna put you through this just because I-” He sucked in a sharp breath, and didn't continue.

“Just because you what?” Kyubin whispered.

“Nothing. Don’t make me say it.”

“I kind of want to.”

Yoojung sighed, staying still and silent with his cheek resting over Kyubin's heart. “I never knew it could feel like this,” he said quietly. “Being close to someone. I feel like I might disappear into you if I just hold you strong enough, and maybe then I’ll feel okay.”

Kyubin allowed the intense wave of affection to wash over him before he placed his hands on Yoojung's shoulders. “That settles it, then.” When Yoojung raised his head to give him a puzzled look, Kyubin gestured toward their room. “We’re going to bed. Without the robes, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“It won't feel as good as you think,” Yoojung said, not budging even when Kyubin gave his hands a gentle tug. “It’s gonna be like torture for you.”

“Put me through torture, then,” Kyubin told him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s okay. I’m ready. I want it.”

Yoojung didn't look convinced any more than he did a minute ago, though he did allow himself to be pulled back inside.

Kyubin didn’t waste any time before taking off his robe and getting into bed. “Come on,” he said, lifting the covers to encourage Yoojung to join him.

Yoojung didn’t step closer toward him, but he began slowly untying the belt of his robe. “You sure you don’t have to get off first?”

“I’m not sure,” Kyubin said truthfully. “But sitting on a closed toilet lid with porn playing on my phone doesn’t sound very appealing right now. I’d rather be here with you.”

Yoojung let the robe fall to the floor. “How about now?”

Kyubin smiled, keeping his eyes locked with Yoojung’s. “Now I’m sure of one thing, and that’s that I want you to come over here and let me cuddle you already.”

“And if it starts to feel like cuddling isn't enough, will you regret agreeing to this?”

“I don't know,” Kyubin answered truthfully. “But I think that's the best part of this. Us. We can explore different things, figure out how they feel and what they mean. The fact that we can even attempt something like this is exciting on its own to me.”

That finally persuaded Yoojung to move from his spot and lie down. He still kept an unnecessary bit of distance between them, and he pulled the covers all the way up to his shoulders, as if hiding his hands from view would somehow stifle their desire to touch and the responses it would elicit.

Kyubin held his hesitant gaze steadily. It felt effortless to stay composed and allow Yoojung to rely on him when the intimacy they were attempting to create was so quiet and serene. None of the pressure that came with the reckless, exhilarating impulsivity of sex was present, so it all felt simple.

His hand found Yoojung's under the covers and pulled it closer to rest over his heart. “Go ahead. I'm all yours.”

Yoojung drew in a slow, deep breath before tracing a feather-like line along Kyubin's collarbones, leaving a delightful trail of shivers. The light sneaking in through the window illuminated his face with a hazy glow that made him appear extra kissable, but Kyubin pushed down that urge and remained still.

Yoojung’s fingers traveled upward, coming to a rest once they reached Kyubin's face and slipped into his hair. There was something lazy about the way his eyes followed his own movement, and he seemed to zone out while drawing small circles on Kyubin's cheek with his thumb, the motion soothing in its mechanical repetition. His blinking also appeared to get slower, more sluggish, like he was finding it harder to fight off the exhaustion.

Although it slightly dampened the thrill Kyubin felt to explore every detail of this thing both of their hearts seemed to call for, he understood. And, like with everything else, they had time.

“Today’s been a long day, hasn't it?” he asked quietly.

Yoojung shifted closer to join him on his pillow, their noses shy of touching. His eyes quickly traveled over Kyubin's face, as if he was trying to take in as much of him before he asked, “Can you turn around?”

Although reluctant to move away when he already had Yoojung so close, Kyubin complied with his wish, and the soft pressure of Yoojung's touch on his cheek was replaced by a pillow.

With nothing interesting to look at anymore, there was no use in keeping his eyes open. After letting his eyelids obscure the dim view of the room, he felt a rising anticipation inside. His senses slowly became more conscious of the presence behind him; the barely audible breaths Yoojung took, the warmth emanating from him, the rustles he created with every tiny shift of his body.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, his pulse sped up a little. Slowly, the touch moved down his arm, meticulous like it was a crime to allow any bit of skin to feel neglected. Then, it slipped under the covers and wandered down his side, briefly pausing at his hip before traveling up again, just as slow as before, never becoming more intense.

Keeping his eyes closed was only causing Kyubin’s nerve endings to pick up on more subtleties of how every soft caress affected his body, so he focused his gaze on the sharp edges of furniture and shadows on the wall. His heart kept hammering in his chest, every touch a reminder of how much he missed feeling it everywhere else, but the languidness with which Yoojung guided his hands kept the more urgent impulses at bay.

He couldn’t be sure what drove Yoojung to explore the shape of him so thoroughly even when he had to fight back fatigue in order to do so, but he had no intention of putting a stop to it. Compared to how lackluster the movement of Yoojung’s hands felt before, there was nothing feigned about the gentle way he traced every bump up and down Kyubin's spine. He wanted this, and Kyubin wanted to let him have it. And maybe he also found it strangely gratifying to let desire course through his body without chasing any kind of finish, making him ache for satisfaction that was days, maybe even weeks away. His entire body was a battleground of delicate longing and suppressed impulses, and he liked it more than he could ever admit.

He felt Yoojung’s fingers come to a halt on the base of his neck and then slide into his hair, caressing his head as tenderly as everything before. For some reason, this only made every conflicting urge Kyubin was already feeling double in its intensity, and with every resounding pulse in his ears, he understood why.

Yoojung didn’t have to do any of this. There was no end goal to his touch, no physical requisite within him demanding that he run his hands over Kyubin’s naked body, and yet, he chose to devote a moment of his time to draw Kyubin's silhouette line by line. For the first time, someone was seeing past the shape that had been sculpted to their liking, past the functions that could be utilized to bring them closer together, and touched him for the simple fact that it was him. Yoojung desired him in a way that was almost entirely motionless, and it comforted Kyubin to his very core.

“How do you feel?” Yoojung whispered.

Kyubin didn’t respond right away, simply breathing through all the emotions simmering in him, all the suppressed lust and innocent joy at being wanted for the simple fact of being. “How honest should I be?” he whispered back.

“Painfully.”

He waited until Yoojung’s hand changed its course to a less sensitive place to say, “It’s… it’s a lot. I like it though. It's a little frustrating, but I like it. I’m really glad I talked you into this.”

“So I can move closer?”

“You never have to ask me that again. Yes.”

A quiet shuffle behind him, a creak of the bed, and then, warmth nestled all around him as Yoojung encircled him with his arms, eliminating the empty space determined to keep them apart. Their legs tangled, and naked skin touched naked skin, no barriers placed in between any part coming into contact with another.

As if his body finally registered that it wasn’t going to get a release of all this pent up energy anytime soon, Kyubin’s heartbeat began to slow, and everything inside him mellowed. Yoojung’s hold on him was tight in a way that made him feel secure. It felt understated and comforting in a way that a naked person against him never had before, and it was enough to push all the things that might have been arousing about this into insignificance.

He could feel Yoojung’s breath on the nape of his neck, and a smile formed on his face. For all the profound emotions that swept over him in the last few minutes, what they were doing was such a simple and straightforward deed. He was falling asleep in the arms of someone who needed him. It wasn’t anything more, and it wasn’t anything less. It was an answer to something, and it was all-encompassing.

“I feel like saying something really corny right now,” Yoojung told him.

Kyubin’s smile grew wider as he pressed their intertwined hands closer to his chest. “I don’t believe it’s corny if it's how you really feel. Go ahead.”

“I just feel so… quiet inside. I've been spending too much time in my own head recently. Putting myself down over every small thing that’s ever gone wrong. But now all that’s gone. It all went quiet.”

Kyubin could have taken this as a que to apologize for not having given this to him back when he needed it most, but he decided that pressing a kiss to Yoojung’s wrist would be a better use of his mouth. Yoojung nuzzled the side of his neck, and for a second, it felt like his unsaid apology was met with an expression of forgiveness. But of course, it was just an unrelated gesture, which was probably for the better. Guilt was as good a fuel as any, and Kyubin was determined to carry it until he could give Yoojung every good thing he deserved.

“I told you there were warm nights ahead of us,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and settled more comfortably into Yoojung’s hold.

Yoojung hummed. “You did. I’m glad you were right.”

“So am I. And this is just the first warm night of many, my sunshine.”

He didn't realize he said anything out of the ordinary until he heard a disoriented, “What?”

“Huh?” he asked through a yawn.

“Why’d you say that?”

Kyubin forced his eyes open so he could think more clearly. “What did I say? I can't remember. Something about it being warm?”

“Yeah, and then you said my sunshine. Like I was… like you were calling me that.”

“Oh,” he chuckled with embarrassment. “Seems that I still have pet names on my mind. I’ve gathered you're not a fan, sorry. I won't say that again.”

He could feel Yoojung fidget as he tried to figure out a better position for their legs. “But why sunshine of all things?” he asked, sounding more awake than Kyubin felt. “Because of my hair?"

"Maybe? I haven’t given this any thought, it just slipped out.” He only had the relaxation filling every bit of him to blame for what he said next. “It makes sense when I think about it though. You just… you've got so much warmth to share, and there's this light that seems inherent to you. I can't believe others don't see it when it shines so bright, cause it’s almost blinding. Although I guess that explains everything. It hurts their eyes to stare directly at you, so they look away.”

The silence that followed was enough to inject him with a dose of unease and erase all traces of drowsiness. He quickly replayed what just came out of his mouth, trying to pinpoint if he said anything that sounded differently from what he intended, but all worries were waved away by a kiss on his shoulder.

“You can call me that, if you want,” Yoojung said softly. “Sometimes.”

Kyubin really wished he could see his face, and maybe kiss it while he was at it, but the position they figured out was too nice to ruin it. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that. How often would that be, do you think?”

“Only when you really feel like it. When it’s genuine.”

Kyubin hesitated for only a second before saying, “Sleep well, sunshine.” He expected the word to feel odd on his tongue the second time around, and it did. It also filled him with a kind of joy that overshadowed the awkwardness and made him want to repeat that pet name until it started to come out naturally.

Yoojung pressed his face into Kyubin’s hair and took a deep breath, not saying anything back, but Kyubin didn’t need him to respond. He had him right next to himself, generously sharing the rays of his warmth, and that was enough.