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Chapter Text

Jungwoo spent his waking life surrounded by exceptional beauty. Beauty that he was paid to make more exceptional through the power of good lighting, casting spotlights and shadows in all of the right places on runaways in New York or Milan and Paris. Perfectly timed to sell clothes, to sell luxury, to sell the illusion that anyone could be that kind of beautiful if only they had the right dress.  He was used to dealing with gorgeous,  sexy, pretty beyond measure. He was used to men and women that were almost unnaturally attractive making small talk or complaining to him that the lighting design was too harsh or too bright or any number of things that he wished he could help but couldn’t because he was paid to make them look ethereal or otherworldly and untouchable, but never to feel comfortable. He was used to being so near to perfection that it took him by surprise when Jeong Jaehyun spoke to him for the first time and he stumbled a little over his words. 

Jaehyun bent down over the flood light that was giving Jungwoo a hard time at the end of the runway that Jaehyun would walk the next afternoon for fall fashion week in Milan. His cheekbones were lit by Jungwoo’s uncooperative fixture and all Jungwoo could see were the lips that moved around words that Jungwoo had to strain over the thundering music that would accompany the show that Jungwoo would watch tomorrow night, his palms sweating as he prayed to a god he didn’t really believe in all that much that everything would go right. 

Backlit like an angel, Jeong Jaehyun asked him if he needed help, his million dollar hands reaching for a light bulb that would burn. Later, Jungwoo wondered what anyone would say if they knew that the first thing Jungwoo ever did in his unfathomable friendship with Jaehyun was to slap his wrist. 

Jaehyun winced, Jungwoo fell over himself trying to apologize and explain that he didn’t want Jaehyun to to get hurt and somewhere in all the madness the bulb went dark, one of Jungwoo’s meticulously laid out connections coming apart. Jungwoo looked up from his crouch and thought it was strange that a face that was inescapable back home on the streets of Seoul could look unfamiliar and brand new, like Jaehyun was someone he had never seen before. 

Jungwoo was used to beautiful. He couldn’t see how anyone could ever be used to Jaehyun. 

Jungwoo apologized again but Jaehyun only smiled and said that it was alright. Jungwoo had smacked him for a good cause. Jungwoo tried not to stare at the most famous dimples in Korea and mumbled something about needing to go back to work. Jaehyun wandered off, ambling so slowly that it was hard to believe he was going to walk the runaway. Jungwoo burnt the tip of his left ring finger on the bulb he’d told Jaehyun not to touch, too lost in the sway of Jaehyun’s hips to remember his own warnings about touching things that were too hot. 

Jungwoo sucked on his finger. Jaehyun disappeared behind the illuminated Prada wall to the chaos of backstage and Jungwoo thought that would be that. A moment in time. A slap to the wrist and a reddened fingertip. 

And yet, for the next three days, Jaehyun was almost as inescapable in the fashion halls of Milan as he was on the streets of Seoul. Jungwoo didn’t know if he was excited to have found someone who spoke his mother tongue or if he really was interested in lighting design but whatever it was, it was enough for Jaehyun to be there every time Jungwoo turned around. After the second day, his tongue stopped sticking to the roof of his mouth when Jaehyun looked him right in the eyes, and his heart remembered how to beat somewhere close to its baseline by day three. 

He heard later on the plane back to Seoul that Jaehyun had asked around for him on the morning of the last day, but Jungwoo had already gone and Jaehyun had other important places to be. Jungwoo landed, Jaehyun stared at him from the Incheon Duty Free and Jungwoo thought again that would be that. An Italian fever dream, the time that a supermodel asked him about light plotting and how Jungwoo had brought Raf’s vision to life. 

But then there was Paris and then New York and on both sides of the Atlantic, Jaehyun smiled at him, talked with him, asked if he wanted to eat, if Jaehyun could bring him something, anything. Jungwoo declined because that wasn’t how these things worked even if he thought that Jaehyun missed being a hyung, and saw Jungwoo as a dongsaeng who could make use of his care. Jaehyun needed to be beneath the spotlight that Jungwoo had planned to hit his jawline at an angle that would make cameras flash and breath catch. Jungwoo had things to do, Jaehyun, too, even if it was a strange delight to whisper to Jaehyun in the moments before the show, before Jaehyun stopped smiling and became someone untouchable and otherworldly, ethereal beneath Jungwoo’s lights. 

There wasn’t time for more. Not for Jaehyun, who had pictures to take and parties to attend. Not even for Jungwoo, who had rigs to supervise coming down, who had dinners to eat with the crews who worked hard with him fashion week after fashion week. 

Jaehyun asked, Jungwoo declined. 

But he bought Jaehyun a cup of coffee at LaGuardia as they waited to part ways because Jaehyun looked tired and a little unhappy. Jungwoo was susceptible to the unhappiness of others and Jaehyun was too sweet to look sour. Jungwoo didn’t know why Jaehyun’s brightness was dimmed but thought maybe Jaehyun didn’t want to go to Los Angeles, that he was envious that Jungwoo was going home to sleep in his own bed. Jungwoo could understand that. The craving for home, the desire to rest. Fashion weeks were over, so Jungwoo was off that clock, ready for a few months in Seoul doing the lighting design for Kim Doyoung’s highly anticipated return to the stage. 

But Jaehyun would go on and on, from shoot to shoot, magazine and commercial, fit after fit, design after design. 

Before he left for the flight that Jaehyun wished he could take, Jungwoo wanted to lighten Jaehyun’s mood like he’d brightened Jaehyun’s steps the night before. He thought he was probably better at the latter, but Jaehyun smiled at him over the rim of his $6 coffee and Jungwoo thought maybe he wasn’t so bad at the former either. Jungwoo rubbed at his chest, something burning hot in his throat. 

Jaehyun threw an empty cup in the trash can and then held out his phone. Jungwoo looked at it, looked at Jaehyun, who was smiling a little now, even if it was still only 50 watts when Jungwoo was used to something so warm it was blinding. 

“Before you run off again, can I get your number?”

Jungwoo almost slapped Jaehyun’s hand for a second time because there was no reality in which the face of a generation should have asked him for anything. He took the phone instead because he didn’t think Jaehyun would be so forgiving this time around and maybe Jaehyun was lonely, his world so big that there was no space small enough to have friends. If Jaehyun needed a friend, Jungwoo didn’t mind. Jaehyun was nice and interesting and funny if given the chance, laughing at his own jokes, but laughing harder at Jungwoo’s. Jungwoo typed in his number. It didn’t matter if Jaehyun never used it. Jungwoo  didn’t mind giving people what they needed in the moment, what would make them feel good. 

“Here,” Jungwoo said, smiling as their fingers touched, the phone sliding from his palm into Jaehyun’s. “Call me if you’re feeling bored or whatever.” 

Jaehyun put his phone in his pocket and his hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder, ignoring the manager who had wanted Jaehyun’s attention a cup of coffee ago. Jaehyun’s expression was soft, his warmth muted. Jungwoo shifted back on his heels and said something about needing to go, that it was time for Jaehyun to go get on his flight. 

“Or whatever,” Jaehyun murmured, smoothing down the collar of Jungwoo’s favorite leather coat. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

Jungwoo watched him go and imagined the look on Donghyuck’s face when he told him that his number was now on Jeong Jaehyun’s phone. Jaehyun would probably never call, but Jungwoo would always have a story he could but wouldn’t tell at parties. 

Jungwoo got off the plane in Seoul and found Jaehyun again, beautiful and perfect, smiling at Jungwoo like he knew the punchline to a funny joke in an ad for watches that Jungwoo could never afford. Jungwoo smiled at this Jaehyun and whispered to him that he hoped Jaehyun had a good flight, that he would one day make it back home safe and sound. 

~~

Three and a half weeks later, Jungwoo sent a number he didn’t recognize to voicemail. The voicemail gave him a voice he couldn’t help but recognize in return.

Hey, it’s me. I’m in town for a week. Call me if you’re free, I’d like to finally take you out. 

Jungwoo thought it was funny that Jaehyun didn’t even give his name. Maybe that’s what happened when everyone already knew it. Salutations and introductions were for normal people, like Jungwoo. 

Jungwoo played the message for Donghyuck who told him that he needed to get a wax because Jaehyun absolutely wanted to fuck. Jungwoo ignored Donghyuck because Donghyuck lived in a gutter wishing that he had a reason to get a wax. Jungwoo didn’t think Jaehyun was like that and if he was like that, he wouldn’t be like that over Jungwoo, not when he had the entire world ready to go to their knees. 

“He’s probably just bored or lonely,” Jungwoo said, sending the no longer unknown number a text. 

Jaehyun had said to call but Jungwoo knew he had to be busy, that it would be better to leave messages that Jaehyun could read whenever he had the chance. He told Jaehyun that he was free on Thursday if Jaehyun still wanted to meet up. No pressure. Jungwoo knew Jaehyun hadn’t been home in a long time, he should do whatever he wanted to do most.

Jaehyun responded while Donghyuck was still rolling his eyes. There was a time and place. A cafe that Jungwoo had mentioned once in the ten stolen minutes between the end of the show and the afterparty. Jungwoo smiled and said he would be there, that he would see Jaehyun soon. 

~~

Thursday came. Jungwoo went. Jaehyun was waiting for him, wearing a mask and hat pulled down low, and Jungwoo felt guilty that they were somewhere so public, a threat to Jaehyun’s blessedly precious personal time and space. Jaehyun pulled out his chair and told Jungwoo to order whatever he wanted. Jungwoo got a coffee and Jaehyun rolled his eyes and ordered two slices of cake, murmuring that he remembered Jungwoo talking about how much he loved it, how he craved it when he was away and wanting something sweet.

You’re sweet, Jungwoo wanted to say, but he knew there was probably no compliment in the world Jaehyun hadn’t been paid before. He asked Jaehyun how it was to be home instead and listened as Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed into pretty crescents when he smiled beneath the mask and talked about his mom, the taste of her cooking, the warmth of sleeping in his childhood room even though he had a penthouse apartment in town.

Jungwoo got that. He liked going home to his mother, too. Living alone could be lonely, he told Jaehyun. Jaehyun seemed oddly pleased by that but Jungwoo thought that maybe Jaehyun just liked being understood, liked that Jungwoo felt the same way about going home to mom. 

“What do you do with your time, to keep from being lonely?” Jaehyun asked, his perfect chin resting in his palm, his fork dragging four little lines through what remained of the icing on the plate he’d insisted on sharing. “Other than eating your mom’s food?”

Jungwoo thought about it. He worked so hard that it was hard to find the time to be bored, even if the nights were sometimes lonely, even if stung to see his friends hard launch their love affairs on Instagram. He hadn’t so much as soft launched since spring fashion week 2023, Mingyu’s arm around his waist and their smiles turned towards one another after a football match. They were still friends. Jungwoo was still single. 

“I’m into ballet lately.”

He told Jaehyun that he’d fallen back in love with it after doing the lighting for a smaller company’s rendition of Giselle. It was timeless. The peasant girl who loved the man beyond her reach, who saved him despite his faithlessness. 

“Sounds depressing.”

Jungwoo laughed and said that romances like that didn’t really have happy endings, not in dance and not in real life. Jaehyun frowned, his mouth a deep cut in his lovely face. Jungwoo patted Jaehyun’s hand and assured him that not every ballet was tragic. 

“I want to see the new production of Coppelia. That one is supposed to be as funny as Giselle isn’t.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun offered Jungwoo the last bite of cake. Jungwoo took it because Jaehyun was staring at him so intently that he needed something to do.

Jaehyun smiled and held out a napkin. “What’s holding you back? Getting tickets?”

Jungwoo licked the last of the last bite of cake from his lips and shook his head. He could get tickets to just about any performance in town. He’d always worked with someone or someone who knew someone who could hook him up. Tickets were never the problem.

“I want someone to go with,” Jungwoo confessed. “I don’t have anyone right now.”

He’d gone with Doyoung once, Donghyuck twice. Yuta had promised the next time he was in town. Mark didn’t really go for that kind of thing and neither did Johnny. Taeyong was abroad and Jungwoo didn’t think he and Mingyu were friends enough again to sit in a darkened theater for hours and hours. 

Jaehyun was looking at him like Jungwoo was speaking another language. Jungwoo thought it was probably true. Jaehyun probably had no idea what it was like to not have someone to do things with. There would be a line around the city to go to the dump with Jeong Jaehyun, let alone to the ballet. 

Jungwoo sighed, going for dramatics, wanting Jaehyun to laugh at his plight, at the pathetic woes of the plebeians like Jungwoo.

“I really need to start dating again. Let me know if you have any single friends.” 

Jaehyun didn’t laugh. Jaehyun asked him if he was serious, asked Jungwoo if he really wanted Jaehyun to find Jungwoo someone to date. 

Jungwoo felt like he had messed up, that somewhere between finishing the cake and talking about his lack of a love life he’d blown a circuit and turned off all Jaehyun’s lights. 

“I was joking,” Jungwoo said, words spilling out in a rush. Jaehyun was unhappy. Jungwoo had made him that way, taking Jaehyun’s random kindness towards Jungwoo a step too far. “I would never expect to date one of your friends, someone like you.” 

“Why? Why wouldn’t you?”

Jaehyun looked angry now, which looked better on him than it had any right to. Jungwoo had the wild thought that he should walk the runway like this, lit up in a burgundy red, his gaze sharp enough to draw blood. He was so beautiful that Jungwoo thought he’d let Jaehyun leave a scar. Jungwoo told himself for the thousandth time since he’d burnt his finger on a bulb in Milan not to think that way. He needed to let this be what it was. All that it could be. 

“I don’t know, aren’t your friends all famous models and actors?”

Jaehyun shook his head and took off the hat that had been hiding him from the eyes that were looking at them anyway because it was impossible not to look at Jaehyun. Jungwoo wondered if he would see pictures of his blurred out face on the portal sites in the morning. If he would be edited out or left in, the faceless man drinking coffee with Jeong Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun ran a hand through his hair. Jungwoo wanted to reach over and smooth it down. Jaehyun’s cheeks were pink. His lips were wet. Jungwoo watched them as they moved around an impossible thought: 

“No. Why not me?” 

Chapter Text

Jaehyun was used to beautiful. He worked with beautiful. He sold beautiful. He’d been told that he was beautiful from almost the time he was born, and heard it said about him so often that the word had ceased to have meaning. So it wasn’t really beauty that made him want to talk to Jungwoo that first time, even though Jungwoo was beautiful, no matter how much he downplayed his own good looks, the prettiness of his face, the sweetness of his eyes and the fullness of his lips. 

He talked to Jungwoo because Jungwoo was talking to a lightbulb, pleading with it and scolding it while on his knees on a floor that was hard, cold concrete because fashion show directors were into industrial spaces like these. The room was cold and gray but the misbehaving light was bright and Jungwoo looked so warm, so vibrant as he begged an inanimate object to do as it was told that Jaehyun wanted to touch him to see if it would burn. Then Jungwoo smacked Jaehyun’s hand away and his ears turned red while his tongue tied around apologies that Jaehyun didn’t need to hear and Jaehyun was charmed, doomed to fall as the lightbulb blew out and Jungwoo blew him off, cringing away from the complete lack of help that Jaehyun could actually offer and telling Jaehyun he should to go back to work. 

Jaehyun went back to work, figuring that at least one thing should obey Jungwoo, even if he was probably less important to Jungwoo than the fixture that wouldn’t listen. He went back to work, he walked Jungwoo’s well-lit runway the next afternoon and then tried again to reach out his hand, to catch Jungwoo’s attention and talk to him just a little bit. Jungwoo didn’t slap his wrist but he didn’t reach back, looking baffled every time that Jaehyun chased him down and tried to get Jungwoo to open up his pretty mouth and spill some of his secrets. 

What did he like? Where was he going next? Did he need a drink? Something to eat? Somewhere to go and spend some time once the show was over?

Jaehyun came away from that fateful first meeting in Milan better educated on lighting design than he had any right to be but without a phone number, without answers to anything that really mattered because Jungwoo was gone before Jaehyun had a chance to find out, flying away to the country they both called home, a place that Jaehyin hadn’t seen in too long. No one knew when he asked, or no one would tell him, and he thought that maybe it would be nice if it were the latter, that Jungwoo had leagues of people who cared enough to protect his privacy from the supermodel who wanted the lighting designers digits for reasons he didn’t want to explain. 

He thought about giving up because he’d been doing this for a long time and he’d never seen Jungwoo before Milan and maybe he never would again, but then there was Paris and Jungwoo was there again, crawling around on his hands and knees with a cable between his teeth. Jaehyun called him good boy, good dog and offered to buy Jungwoo any and every treat when Jungwoo wagged a tail he didn’t have and smiled around his mouthful like he was happy to play along. Like he thought Jaehyun was funny, when no one ever really thought Jaehyun was as funny as he was hot. Jaehyun tried to make good on his offer after the dress rehearsal, but Jungwoo said there was no time, not when he had to dream up ways to make someone like Jaehyun even more beautiful, to make him perfect and untouchable. 

Jaehyun wanted to tell Jungwoo that he was sometimes ugly, that he was always imperfect and that he would never be untouchable, if Jungwoo wanted to do it again sometime, slapping or otherwise. Jaehyun was down. He was into it, if Jungwoo was into him. If Jungwoo wanted to give him a chance to convince him that they could have a good time together.

Jungwoo didn’t touch him. But he did make Jaehyun look beautiful. And in between camera flashes and parties full of canapes that didn’t get eaten because there was always another runway, always another photoshoot that required hollow cheeks and cut abdomens, Jungwoo smiled and told him little things, and leaned in close when Jaehyun tried to pick out the words he needed out of the tumble of his thoughts. Jaehyun was used to people looking. He had forgotten what it was like to be listened to, for someone to be interested enough in what he had to say, not just the lips moving around the words. 

By the time New York rolled around, Jaehyun thought he was going to go crazy if Jungwoo turned down another drink, another bite to eat. If Jungwoo came right out told him to fuck off, it would have been one thing. He could take rejection. But Jungwoo smiled every time Jaehyun came around, laughed at Jaehyun’s bad jokes and seemed interested in the things Jaehyun had to say. Jungwoo wasn’t wearing a ring. Jaehyun asked himself if maybe Jungwoo was just being nice. Everyone told Jaehyun that Jungwoo was sweet. Warmhearted. A nice guy. A nice guy who didn’t think he could tell someone like Jeong Jaehyun to fuck off. 

He tried for three days to pin Jungwoo down, but Jungwoo always had places to be that weren’t the places Jaehyun was needed. They didn’t go to the same parties or the same restaurants even though Jaehyun wouldn’t have minded going out with the crew that made everything he did possible. Jungwoo didn’t ask, so he didn’t go. He’d decided to let it all go by the time they got to La Guardia because he had to catch a flight to L.A. but then Jungwoo bought him a cup of coffee and lingered near enough for long enough for Jaehyun to finish the entire damned thing. 

Jungwoo asked him if he was feeling homesick and tired, if he missed his own bed. Jaehyun was feeling homesick and tired, he did miss his own bed, and it made him smile to be asked, to know that someone thought enough about him to realize that maybe the lifestyle of the rich and famous wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. His manager was hovering behind him, saying too much without saying anything at all, and as it got closer and closer to his boarding call, Jaehyun had the sense that it was now or never. 

He tossed the cup in the trash even though he wouldn’t have minded keeping it a while longer because he needed his hands free to hold out his phone and finally ask for what he wanted. Jungwoo looked so uncertain. Jaehyun was used to people looking at him in a lot of different ways. Uncertain wasn’t one of them. He almost told Jungwoo it was no big deal, to forget about it, but then Jungwoo smiled at Jaehyun and their fingers touched. 

“Call me if you’re bored or whatever.” 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Jaehyun put his phone in his pocket and tried for a little more, just enough to tide him over until he could get back home. Jungwoo’s leather coat was nice, soft beneath his palm. He pressed down until he could feel the jut of a collarbone, playing with Jungwoo’s lapels and thinking about how long it would be until he was back home, until he could ask Jungwoo on a date, until he could sleep in his own bed. 

Until he could make good on Jungwoo’s whatever . 

~~

A month later, life spit Jaehyun out in Seoul and he got Jungwoo’s voicemail. His voice sounded nice, telling potential clients to leave their name and the details of their request. Jaehyun wondered if Jungwoo had another number for his personal life. A voice message box where Jaehyun could leave the details of a request that wasn’t very professional. He was so thrown for a loop that he realized after he hung up that he’d forgotten the first half of Jungwoo’s instructions. He hadn’t left a name, just the request.

Call me if you’re free, I’d like to finally take you out. 

He walked around an apartment he hadn’t seen in too long, his bags sitting unpacked by the front door and waited. He needed to dust. He probably needed to change his sheets, even though they had been clean when he left. It would be better if they smelled like detergent, like someone actually slept there from time to time. 

Jungwoo texted. Jaehyun would have liked a call. He was slow at texting and he liked the way Jungwoo sounded when he talked. But Jaehyun had only followed half of Jungwoo’s instructions, so he couldn’t blame Jungwoo for ignoring half of his. He sat on the edge of his bed and read. Jungwoo was giving him Thursday, if Jaehyun wanted it, if Jaehyun had nothing better to do. He didn’t have anything better to do. He had lots of other things he could do, probably should do, but he wanted to do this. He’d been waiting a month to take Jungwoo to the cafe he’d said he liked when they were standing backstage in Paris, whispering in Jaehyun’s ear that he didn’t care if it was sacrilege, he thought the cakes there were the best in the world. 

It would be hard to go unnoticed at a place like that in a city where his face was on every other street corner and magazine cover, but it would be worth it, Jaehyun thought, to see what Jungwoo looked like when he put something that he really liked in his mouth, his pretty lips closing around Jaehyun’s fork. 

It would be worth it to take Jungwoo out on a date.

~~

Jaehyun was pretty sanguine about his fame on most days but he regretted that he wasn’t just some guy who would wear whatever he wanted on a first date. Jungwoo looked so nice in his sweater and Jaehyun knew he probably looked like a bum in his baseball hat and mask, but it was part of the gig, trying to hide the face that paid for penthouse apartments that he rarely saw. It bothered him that Jungwoo was bothered by it, that Jungwoo felt guilty for things that weren’t his fault, like Jaehyun’s notoriety or the fact that there were always going to be people who didn’t have the decency to leave him well enough alone. 

He bought two pieces of cake in the hopes of buying back Jungwoo’s smile and tasted something sweeter than the icing sugar when Jungwoo listened to Jaehyun’s slow ramble about his mom, about the little pleasures of being home. It was all sweet, rich and delicious, despite the camera flashes coming from the not so hidden corners of the cafe, and Jaehyun thought it was going well, that maybe after they were done with coffee and cake he could take Jungwoo window shopping or even shopping-shopping because there was no point in having his kind of money if he didn’t have someone to spend it on. 

It was going well, it was going great. Jungwoo wanted to go to the ballet and Jaehyun wanted to go with him even if Jungwoo didn’t need his help to get tickets, even if the plot of the one that Jungwoo loved was depressing and bleak, he was into it because Jungwoo was into it. Jungwoo was beautiful when he was passionate. Jaehyun wanted to be close to that passion, to beauty that wasn’t artifice. He thought he might have a chance, even though he couldn’t understand why Jungwoo thought he didn’t have anyone to take him to the ballet when Jaehyun was sitting across from him offering up his heart. 

And then Jungwoo smiled at him and asked Jaehyun if Jaehyun had any friends that might want to go on a date and Jaehyun realized that this wasn’t going well at all. Whatever Jungwoo thought he was doing drinking coffee with Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon, he obviously wasn’t doing the same thing as Jaehyun. Jungwoo obviously wasn’t on a first date. Worse still, Jungwoo didn’t even seem to think it was a possibility, hadn’t considered it, maybe wouldn’t consider it. 

Later, Jaehyun would regret taking off the hat and landing Jungwoo’s blurred out beautiful face on a hundred different gossipping websites because he could tell that the cameras made Jungwoo nervous but he was only human and in that moment he wanted to put his head in his hands. 

“No,” Jaehyun said, not giving a shit why Jungwoo didn’t want to date any of the friends Jaehyun would never introduce him to. “Why not me?” 

Jungwoo stared at Jaehyun like he had the first day they met, blinking into bright lights, as if he couldn’t see a single thing clearly. Maybe Jaehyun hadn’t made himself clear. Maybe weeks of trying to get Jungwoo’s attention and begging for his phone number hadn’t been enough. Maybe Jungwoo really was just too nice of a guy, someone who would go out for coffee and cake and endure the cell phones pointed in his direction because he really thought Jaehyun was bored. Or whatever. 

“What do you think we’re doing here?” Jaehyun asked, trying to soften his tone because it wasn’t really Jungwoo’s fault that Jaehyun apparently had no game. “Why do you think I asked to take you out?” 

Jungwoo looked so uncomfortable that Jaehyun wanted to take it back but it was too late. The cake was all gone, their coffee cups were empty and he needed to know if he should even bother trying to call Jungwoo again once the bill was paid and Jaehyun couldn’t walk him home because he had the kind of life where he needed to walk out the backdoor and into a waiting car. Jungwoo held his finger to his lips, pressed it down and murmured something that sounded like shh when Jaehyun had never been known to be someone who was loud. Jaehyun wanted to smother the shush with a kiss.

“I don’t know,” Jungwoo whispered, turning his body away from Jaehyun and away from flashes and prying eyes. “Maybe you were bored. Lonely. Wanted to get to know me better. You were the one who asked, so you tell me.” 

Jaehyun was so used to being looked at, to being watched, to having every little thing documented and observed, photographed and printed that he had forgotten what it would be like to be normal, to have an expectation of privacy. Jaehyun couldn’t do this. Jungwoo was Jaehyun’s hothouse flower, meant to bloom, not to wilt under too much light. 

Jaehyun put on his hat, pulled up his mask and pushed back his chair. He put his hands in his pockets because he couldn’t put his hand on Jungwoo’s wrist and help him up. It would have been nice to be normal. To have asked Jungwoo to follow him home because Jaehyun had hopes of taking him to bed instead of knowing that home was the only place he could actually be alone to say mundane, everyday things like:

I asked because I like you . Because I want to kiss you and take off all of your clothes.

He didn’t look back to see if Jeungwoo followed. He walked out of the cafe like he walked down Jungwoo’s beautifully lit runways, without seeing anything around him, solely focused on making it from point A to point B. He sat in his car and waited and hoped that Jungwoo would find him in this different kind of backstage. Jungwoo knocked. Jaehyun let him in and took Jungwoo away, to a place where maybe they could be free. 

Jungwoo lookd as nervous in Jaehyun’s living room as he had in the cafe. He didn’t want water. He didn’t want a drink. He didn’t seem to want to do much of anything other than sit on the edge of Jaehyun’s couch and stare out of the floor to ceiling windows with their view of the city and murmur nonsense about how blessed Jaehyun was to have such incredible natural light. Jaehyun stood in front of the windows that had all of Jungwoo’s attention and let the incredible natural light make him feel too warm, sunlight bearing down on his back. Jungwoo bit his bottom lip and glanced away. Jaehyun wanted to lay Jungwoo down on the couch and kiss him until all of the natural light was gone. 

“I’m not bored.” 

Jungwoo blinked, like he’d forgotten that Jaehyun knew how to talk because Jaehyun had been quiet since they’d left the cafe. He nodded and said that was good, that he was glad that Jaehyun wasn’t bored, that he wasn’t sure why he ever thought that someone like Jaehyun could be bored. 

Jaehyun ignored that. Jungwoo didn’t really know who someone like Jaehyun really was. Not yet. Not when Jungwoo wouldn’t let him close enough for Jaehyun to show the full spectrum of his true colors when he was held up to love’s bright light. 

“But I am lonely.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jaehyun ignored that too, even though Jungwoo looked beautiful when he was feeling for someone. It wasn’t Jungwoo’s fault that Jaehyun lived a life that didn’t make room for other people. 

“And I do,” Jaehyun said, resting the back of his head against his window. Jungwoo gazed at Jaehyun, forever patient, but still uncertain. Always a little uncertain, as if he and Jaehyun didn’t speak the same language, talked to one another with different tongues. “I want to get to know you.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.” 

Jaehyun left the window behind, walked a straight line across the emptiness of his living room like he’d once walked a runway to talk to the cute guy who was talking to a light bulb. He bent down. Jungwoo looked at him through his lashes. Jaehyun wondered if Jungwoo knew that he looked like he’d been made to be kissed. That he should be on storefronts selling lip glosses or in the darker corners of Jaehyun’s daydreams, on his knees selling something that couldn’t be bought. 

“I’m lonely. I want to get to know you.” Jaehyun put his hand on Jungwoo’s cheek and waited to be slapped away. Jungwoo’s lashes swept up and down. His skin was hot beneath Jaehyun’s palm. “I want to take you out.” Jaehyun slid his hand down, cupped it beneath Jungwoo’s chin and tipped that chin until Jungwoo’s picture perfect lips were there, close enough for Jaehyun to touch. “I want to kiss you.” 

Jungwoo’s eyes were wide. His cheeks were so warm. Jaehyun gave up on waiting for Jungwoo to come to him, to find him first, and kissed him before Jungwoo could get out the words that were written all over his face, a question that Jaehyun didn’t think that Jungwoo needed to ask. 

Why? Why me?