Archive of Our Own

The bumps in the road shake Yeonjun awake, a slight lift in the asphalt sending the car’s four wheels into the air. He holds his backpack to his chest, small gasp spilling from his lips. 

“Dad!” 

“Sorry, Jun-ah, you know how the roads get around here.” 

He looks at Yeonjun through the mirror, eyes tired. They’ve been driving for ages now. Yeonjun had been lulled to sleep by the soft rocking of the car, its humming engine. It hadn’t taken long before he was knocked out with a sore neck. He looks out the windows, pout on his lips. “Are we there yet?” 

“Almost, Yeonjun,” his mother says. “It has to be here somewhere. Now be quiet so your dad can find it. It’s hard with all these bushes.” 

Yeonjun sinks back down into his seat. He was less than excited to be here. He doesn’t like his aunt. Not at all. She’s pretentious and talks like a fitness influencer and does everything to bring Yeonjun’s confidence down — and she doesn’t even have to try. One little comment, a little mention of a diet, a fitness challenge, and Yeonjun is ruined, in shambles. 

It’s a stupid thing, Yeonjun admits, but his brain has been wired in weird ways, molded into shape from a young age, and now Yeonjun isn’t sure how normal people are supposed to think. 

“Honey! You missed it!” his mother suddenly exclaims. She’s always quick to catch onto things before they spiral, in control. She’s in control of everything, of the situation, of the people around her. Or so she likes to believe, to make herself feel better about missing out on life. 

His father curses, puts the car in reverse. He pulls up with a jolt, sending them bumping and stumbling all the way back. With a sharp U they’re flown into the driveway, coming to a stop with a jump. Yeonjun pulls his tired body together, dragging himself out of their car. It’s a little battered down, creaky where it shouldn’t be. It’s old. It’s been loved, his mother would correct him. As if she’s ever knows what the word ‘love’ even means. 

He stretches with a loud groan, pops one eye open. The lake house is huge. Big window panes, rustic style bricks with a wooden stairs leading up to the door. It looks over a big plane of blue, a view Yeonjun knows is lovely in the early morning, when the cicadas chirp and the grass is dewy with night’s air. 

“You guys made it!” His aunt comes running out the house, rushing over the wood with careful, padded steps. She’s in nothing but a bikini top and shorts, hair in a messy updo with big, pink glasses perched on her nose. “Come on over, come on over! Everyone else is inside.” 

She’s his mom’s sister, yet they look nothing alike. While his mother is already tainted with age, first gray hairs peaking through, stern lips that never smile and eyes that cut, his aunt is… everything she’s not. She smiles, has wrinkles the shape of crow’s feet by her eyes, speaks loudly and smiles all the time. She says what’s on her mind and stands her ground, and she’s straightforward. Everything she thinks will spill from her lips, no matter how hurtful, how mean. How damaging. 

Yeonjun’s father unloads the trunk, carrying way too much for an overnight stay. Yeonjun offers a hand, but his halfheartedness is easy to sense and hard to ignore. He can feel knives twisting into his back, but it doesn’t do much when you’re used to it. With a shrug Yeonjun goes in, behind his aunt and mother. He can hear the faint chatter of children in the background. They’re probably his cousins, both about a decade younger than him. Yeonjun sighs for the weekend to come. 

It’s an awkward age, nineteen. Not a child, though far from mingling with the adults. The adults who have careers, families—the adults who have their lives together. He’s not quite there yet, fighting for a degree and crying at every little thing that hurts him. He cries when he’s stressed, he cries when he’s tired, he cries about everything. It’s an awkward age, the edge of maturity. 

“Yeonjun, your room is over there.” His aunt points ahead. Her slippers clack against the floor with loud echoes. “Tell me if you need more pillows or blankets or anything. I can find them for you, right. We’ve got a boat, jet ski. Kayak. You’ll have fun this weekend.” 

“This is fine.” Yeonjun sets his bag down. He glances over his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

His aunt smiles. “Get settled and please, get comfortable.” A scream breaks through the air. His aunt sighs. “Minho! Don’t hit your sister!” 

Within seconds she’s out the door. Yeonjun can hear them from the distance, hushed arguments. A scolding tone. He blocks it out. There isn’t much to unpack. It’s not a long trip; one overnight stay going on until late afternoon the next day. Yeonjun can already feel himself getting bored. 

He kicks his bag under the bed and makes his way out. He stands awkwardly in the living room. Everyone else is outside, chatting up by or jumping in the lake. It’s the sound of relationships, one Yeonjun doesn’t have with any of them. The sound of cheer, of reunion. And Yeonjun is alone. 

Or so he thought. 

The moment is indescribable, the feeling of his mouth falling open and his eyes glossing over. The feeling of his heart speeding up and a blush spreading over his cheeks. He can’t describe it otherwise than the moment when he meets him. 

He’s tall, slender around the waist. His features are soft, though tainted with an edge, like they could sharpen with the right knife. Those eyes, hidden behind black-rimmed glasses, how Yeonjun wished they’d narrow down at him, hazy and dark. Plump bottom lip, upper curved over it in the shape of a heart, rounded nose. He’s stripped down, blouse with rolled up sleeves and down to the third button, tucked into kakis. Slippers. It’s horrid, really, but this man could pull off anything. 

Soobin, Yeonjun remembers from the wedding invitations. Eight years ago, lots of flowers. He was a ring bearer. He’d seen the face on Christmas cards for the years to follow. Soobin. Soobin, his aunt’s husband. 

“Oh, hello there,” Soobin says. His glasses slide down his nose. He pushes them up. Thick veins run over his hands, his arms. Yeonjun can’t help but stare. 

“Hi.” 

“Yeonjun, right?” Soobin rubs the back of his neck. “Excuse the un-vacationly attire. I was working.” 

“From here?” 

“I work from home.” 

Yeonjun nods. Soobin doesn’t say anything. He walks over, feet dragging, and pulls a bottle from the fridge. Drinking water isn’t supposed to make someone’s heart race, but Yeonjun sees red in the face. His fingers itch, to hold onto him, to touch him. To be wanted by him, needed. 

If Soobin feels the stare on him, he pretends not to notice. He leans against the counter, head tilted as he looks at Yeonjun. “So, how’re you doing? Been ages since we’ve seen each other.” 

Yeonjun clears his throat. He’s certain he’ll squeak if he doesn’t. “Been doing fine. I’m moving out soon. This is the last family trip, I’d say.” 

“Oh, gonna be out on your own. Exciting.” 

“You could say that.” 

Soobin pushes over a bottle of water to Yeonjun as well. Their fingers brush, Yeonjun’s hand lingering a tad bit too long. “Your parents are paying for it?” 

“Got a side job, outside of uni. Gonna help them pay,” Yeonjun says. “It feels nice, finally being able to be on my own.” 

“It’s the best,” Soobin agrees. A look drowns his eyes, sinking away into memories. Far away, close to heart. “When I first moved out, the apartment was horrible. The last owners didn’t take care of it at all. It was a mess. A disgusting mess. I think the walls were alive. Something was crawling up them, green, slimy. I can’t believe I let myself live there.” 

“Gross.” 

“I know right.” 

Soobin smiles. Lovely. Beautiful. Deep-dimpled, with his eyes turned to crescents. The glasses slip down his nose again, but this time Soobin takes them off, pushes his hair back. Yeonjun is mesmerized, captured by Soobin’s presence. 

Yeonjun stays still, hand awkwardly rested atop the kitchen island, hip pressed against it. Soobin looks at him; Yeonjun forces his gaze away, lip between his teeth. 

A smile breaks out on Soobin’s face, accompanied by a breezy laugh. Yeonjun dares a glance, met with Soobin’s sparkling gaze. A breath gets caught in his throat, like his heart is being knocked out of him. He is unable to speak, not that he wants to. He doesn’t want this short moment to break. As if it’s his final meal he wants to keep the flavor on his tongue, savor it until it goes bland. 

“Soobin! Come on over! They’re here!” 

With a cry from outside their bubble bursts. Yeonjun curls his hands into fists, simmering in his silence. 

“I think they’re waiting for us.” Soobin, sheepish as he is charming, rubs the back of his neck. 

Yeonjun can only trail after him as Soobin takes big strides through the house. He holds the door open for Yeonjun, motioning for him to pass. Yeonjun feels his cheeks heat up. He bows his head, as a way of thanking him, but also to hide his blush. Perhaps it’s for show, Yeonjun doesn’t know. There is an air hanging around Soobin that makes him so intriguing. Yeonjun wants nothing more than to be seen by him. 

Outside is a bustling reunion. His aunt leads Yeonjun’s parents all around the place, showing them the hot tub, the lake, the boat. She shows them the floats, tells how fond her kids are of them. Yeonjun might be a little too old, but they’ll see. His cousins are flocking around, jumping in and out of the lake. They screech, they giggle. 

Soobin leans over the edge, fond smile on his lips. Yeonjun stays firm in his spot, yet can’t help but glance to the side. Soobin looks angelic in this light, high sun bringing out all the brightness in his skin. He squints, yet his eyes are stuck on his family. What a man. It seems he felt the stare burning into him; he turns his gaze and they’re eye to eye. Yeonjun blinks, Soobin keeps looking. It’s a dream all over again. 

“Oh, there you two are!” His aunt rushes over to them. “Minho! Jimin! Out of the water!”

She’s met with protests. She sighs. “Only for a second. You’ll have enough time to get all splashing later.” 

It seems to do the trick. A girl and boy run out of the water, seven and five. Yeonjun doesn’t know them. Only from pictures. His mother and her sister aren’t that close. It had been a major falling out, mostly caused by their age gap. Yeonjun never got to know what had happened, but it was the reason his mother never decided to give him siblings. He wonders what caused them to be invited. 

There are so many people crowding around him, Yeonjun isn’t sure what to do. He leans back, arms crossed. 

His aunt leads the kids forward. “Minho, Jimin, this is Yeonjun. Your cousin.” 

They’re dripping wet. Yeonjun smiles at them, leans down. He holds out his hand. “Hi.” 

Jimin is the first to take it. Her fingers are freezing and she gives him a wary glance. Probably a timid one. Minho follows his sister’s lead shortly after, seeing Yeonjun has been deemed ‘safe’. Funny thing, siblings. Yeonjun sometimes wonders how it feels like, though can’t help wonder how these two would end up in the future. If they’d be each other’s closest companion or if they’d end up in a Cold War filled with nothing but unspoken rage. 

The parents coo at the interaction. Soobin grins, running his fingers through Minho’s hair. Pride and fondness, how warm. Yeonjun feels a twinge in his chest, funny feeling in his stomach. It makes him sick. He forces it away and keeps smiling. 

It’s not long before Yeonjun is deemed boring. The kids leave nothing but a wet patch in the wood. There is a splash in the distance. Adults aren’t fun. Yeonjun can understand them. He barely looks forward to being one. 

His aunt claps her hands. “So. It’s early in the day. Get your swimwear on.” 

Yeonjun’s heart sinks. 

Yeonjun allows himself the hot tub. Book under his arm and robe hanging off his shoulders he makes his way out. His swimming trunks hang low on his hips and high above his knees. His sunglasses are rested neatly on his nose. It’s the perfect weather to lose himself. 

He greets the rest of his family with a smile and a nod, but doesn’t linger too long. He wraps the robe around him a little tighter, for good measure. It’s a waste of energy; his parents are too caught up in their conversation. Yeonjun rolls his eyes when he sees his father already nursing a beer. Of course. What did he expect? In the end, getting his hopes up only hurt him. Yeonjun keeps his chin up, pushes down the upset rising in his heart. Not like his dad will notice, no use showing it. 

However, he can feel a pointed gaze burning in his back. He looks over his shoulder and is met with his aunt, calculating, analytical. Yeonjun has never been one naturally interested in fitness, but situations always lead him into certain directions. It’s gazes like these that make him want to work hard and shrink away, comments resting on tongues he wants to evade. For now, he flees. 

The hot water burns his skin. It comes up in the air like steam. Yeonjun lets out an exhale and opens his book. Healthy habits include reading for 30 minutes every day, but Yeonjun was never much of a reader. But he can try. He can pretend to become a new person, one with habits and a goal. A lie becomes reality the more it gets told. 

His mom always speaks too loud around other people. She always tries to be heard, laughs too much about things that aren’t funny. She shares her ideas with them because at home she can’t. There aren’t enough likeminded people, no one who understands her. So here she is, screaming at the neighborhood what right parenting is. 

“They’re too soft on kids these days,” she says. “They’re turning into brats. You shouldn’t be too sweet to them or they won’t respect you. That’s the problem with parents these days. They’re too afraid to make their child cry. Tough love is love, still. The world won’t be kind to them. You shouldn’t be too kind either.” 

Thoughts like these make Yeonjun scoff, though he hides it. He’s not searching for trouble, not when she can see. He buries himself in his book, trying his hardest to block her out. The humming of the heater does what it can, but even that noble soldier failed him. Her words seep into his mind, memories echo in the broken chambers, the ones he’d tried to tear them down, tears and agony. 

Growing up hasn’t done much; around her Yeonjun still feels like a hopeless little boy. 

Diversion comes in the form of an angel. Soobin comes out, carrying a snack tray. All fruits and vegetables, crackers and cheese. The kitchen cloth is slung over his shoulder and he smiles up a sunrise. It’s like Soobin doesn’t have bad sides. He’s a little awkward, a little clumsy, but he’s a perfect man. He’s a dream, to Yeonjun that is. He is a rosy haze, eyes bright and stance tall. He’s sweet and caring; Yeonjun only ever hears good of him. 

He is paradise. 

He calls for his kids and despite how they’re soaked from head to toe, he still picks both of them up and twirls them around, tells them to eat well and recharge their energy. His hugs look like comfort, like cinnamon tea on an autumn day, cozy inside while the world rains down all her fury. The book is nothing but a blank to stare at. 

“Yeonjun, won’t you come and eat?” his mother calls. 

Yeonjun pretends not to hear her. He runs his eyes over the same page for the nth time, reads the same word over and over until he’s convinced he knows what it means. She doesn’t try again, turning her conversation up a notch. Yeonjun’s thoughts are too scattered to catch any of it. He counts it as a blessing. He can prune up in here, far away from them. Nothing good comes when he joins their side. 

He feels a tap on his shoulder. With a soured expression he looks up to see who bothers him, only for it to pulverize into sweet wine. He blinks, head twitching as he tries to decide what to do next. Soobin doesn’t leave him to panic for too long. He lifts up a tray, grinning. The vegetables are cut unevenly, all different widths and lengths. It’s endearing and Yeonjun’s heart fluttered at the care. He can’t let it go to waste. He sets down his book, arms dipping into the water. 

He lifts them back up to the edge, rests his cheek against it. “Hi.” 

“Can’t let you go hungry,” Soobin says. 

“Can you give me one?” Yeonjun asks. 

Soobin holds the tray closer, but Yeonjun shakes his head. He opens his mouth. 

“Yeonjun, you’ve got hands. You’re a big boy, right?” The tone is teasing, but it’s still as if he’s speaking to a child. 

“They’re all wet.” Yeonjun purses his lips, lifting a hand as if to prove it. It’s utter bullshit; it’s definitely not an excuse. But he can try. 

“Fine.” Soobin relents easily. His bangs fall into his eyes. “Dip or no dip.” 

“Dip.” 

Soobin picks up a carrot, runs it through whatever sauce he’d created. He makes an ‘ah’ sound. Yeonjun compiles, though not without a roll of his eyes. He’s too old for this. He lets it slide. The carrot rests between his teeth. Yeonjun closes his lips around it, sucking at it softly. He’s pretty sure the dip is sticking to the corner of his mouth. It feels a little idiotic, a little too straight to the point to be suggestive. 

Yeonjun has always been one to put on a show, even when he’s not trying to be the center of attention. After all, he only wants one pair of eyes on him. 

Soobin blinks, eyes widening. It’s slight, but Yeonjun sees it; he was out for it. The heart of Soobin’s mouth falls, fingers frozen in spot. He swallows, but doesn’t speak. 

Deciding he’s had enough fun, Yeonjun takes the vegetable from Soobin. He runs his thumb over his bottom lip and licks it. Then he sinks back down into the hot tub. “Thank you. That was very nice of you.” 

Soobin nods stiffly. “Yeah… Yeah, no problem.” His voice sounds strained. 

Yeonjun might go insane. The heat is getting to his head. 

The lock clicks in place. He’s fled under the guise of getting tired. His parents wave him off, tell him to sleep well. Moments like these are what make him thankful for their disinterest in him. It’s actually not too bad, he muses to himself. It’s cold comfort, but at this age, he should be getting over it. 

He lets his shoulders relax and strips down. Granted, there isn’t much for him to discard. He sinks down on the fresh sheets and sinks away in them, in thought. 

From a young age he’s always been praised for his creative mind, then reprimanded for letting it wander off so often. He could dream up realities, stare at a wall for hours and exist in a world only he could see. It felt real, time after time. The touches, the story; it was real to him. It still is. What hurts in his world, hurts twice as much in reality. He’d rather waste away dreaming. 

Yeonjun’s mind is a place as wonderful as it is scary. When he enters it it’s a task to break free, because it feels real. He’s a dreamer, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish for it to become reality. He lets it consume him today, too, lets it rile him up until his body feels like mid-July. He strokes his dick to hardness, images flashing in his mind. Soobin’s slender chest pressing into his, his lips trailing Yeonjun’s neck, leaving it torn and marked for everyone to see how much he wants him, how much he loves him. He’s uncaring and sloppy; it’s not secret. Yeonjun is nothing he wants to hide. 

Soobin’s hands traveling Yeonjun’s body, feeling every part, leaving bruises the shape of his palms as he whispers how beautiful Yeonjun is, how fucking lovely and perfect. How he couldn’t resist him, how he had fallen the moment he’d laid eyes on him. How much better Yeonjun could pleasure him than any woman, man ever had. How good Yeonjun is making him feel, high on his body, his taste, his being. 

Burning up, Soobin’s name spills from Yeonjun’s lips, begging him to remember, to love him. That he’s all Soobin’s, nothing more than that. Tears form in the corners of his eyes. Soobin, the chant of a sinner. Soobin, Soobin. 

You’re mine, Soobin says. Fucking remember. You’re mine. Till the end of time. 

Stomach tightening and breath trapped in his throat Yeonjun’s head turns muddled. His ears start ringing as his eyes roll back. He can’t be bothered to keep his moans and whimpers down, too drunk on a fantasy to remember the real people outside. His vision whitens. The sheets are tainted with Yeonjun’s growing desires. With heaving chest he spreads himself over the bed. He wonders if Soobin likes to dance. 

Around dinner time everyone starts dripping indoors like water from a broken tap. The sun colors the sky pink. 

Yeonjun had been lounging around on the couch, scrolling through his phone and laughing at unfunny videos. He stared out the window every now and then, admiring how the white of Soobin’s t-shirt stretched over his back as he fights the grill.  

Soobin’s job is cooking. His aunt had been vocal about it. She does the cleaning, Soobin does the cooking. It was an embarrassment to Yeonjun’s grandparents, as they’d told everyone at the gathering, because it’s not that she can’t; she’s unwilling to learn. Yeonjun thinks it’s because she’s afraid. He’s never seen her around a tray of food, always on about workouts and challenges and whatnot. 

“I don’t work out to be thin, you know,” she tells as she cuts her chicken thigh into the tiniest strips. “I work out to be strong. It’s a different mindset. I don’t want people to think, ‘Oh, she’s thin’. No, I want them to think I’m strong.”

In the same breath she adds, “I’m eating rice today as a treat. It’s a party, right?” She laughs. “I don’t usually diet, per se. I only cut when I’m setting a new goal. But low carb is good for you, right. Read something about blood sugars and regulating them.” 

The rice turns bitter on Yeonjun’s tongue. He tosses around the meat on his plate. She always rambles like this, when no one ever asked. And she doesn’t stop. She rambles and rambles and never stops. Words hold weight, heavier than whatever she lifts. Words hit where it hurts. Yeonjun dies a little. 

It’s not long before he excuses himself and flees outside, lead in his stomach. The smell of barbecue makes his stomach churn, but he bears with it and makes himself comfortable in the beach chair, hands under his thighs. He leans forward, peeking at what Soobin is doing.  

“Too loud inside?” Soobin starts the conversation. 

Yeonjun hums, kicking his feet. “Nothing interesting going on, no.” 

“It can get overwhelming in there. I like being outside here too. Much calmer. Makes me believe I’m actually on vacation.” 

“You don’t get those?” 

Soobin shakes his head with a gentle smile. “No. But you’ll figure that all out later. Just enjoy for now. You’ve got all the freedom, still.” 

“Is that what life’s like?” Yeonjun purses his lips. “Feeling trapped?” 

“It’s… putting others first sometimes, for the sake of peace and harmony.” 

“Sounds like hell.” 

“You get used to it.” 

The grill sizzles as a background tune, accompanied by Soobin’s deep breathing and the sloshing of the lake against the shore. 

“What’s your favorite animal?” Yeonjun asks. 

Soobin lets out a soft chuckle, eyes crinkling into crescents. Yeonjun loves it when Soobin’s dimples show. His mother always says they age horribly, but they look gorgeous on Soobin. If they look this stunning now, Yeonjun can only imagine how divine they must’ve looked ages ago, when Soobin had been his age. It takes everything in Yeonjun not to press his lips to them, leave butterfly kisses on them. He wonders if his aunt has loved them enough, or if she’d neglected them as she neglects many things. 

“My favorite animal?” Soobin purses his lips, thinking. “I’d have to say… rabbits. Although I love hedgehogs too. I used to raise one during my college days. Little devil. He was like a son to me, though.” 

“A hedgehog?” Yeonjun repeats like it’s a life changing history. “How did you manage to get that in the dorms?” 

“Oh, I just got him. But after a while it started smelling so much they caught me.” Soobin sighs. “Had to give my precious Odi away. But he was high maintenance.” He finally turns to face Yeonjun. “So? What about you?” 

“Turtles,” Yeonjun says. His tone curves upward in excitement. 

“There are turtles in the lake,” Soobin says. “Let me finish up these last ones and then we can go look for them. If we’re lucky they might come to the surface.” 

“I have a tattoo of a turtle on my hip.” Yeonjun giggles, holding a finger before his lips.  

“Do you?” 

“My parents don’t know, so if you ask them I don’t.” 

Soobin laughs again. He laughs a lot when he’s around Yeonjun and Yeonjun, he lights up around Soobin. His heart gets replaced with the sun, rising with Soobin’s smile and setting when it disappears. Yeonjun feels like he’s living around Soobin, like he exists. Soobin who listens to him and answers his questions, who asks him things back and is curious about all the little things. 

Soft pink tinges Yeonjun’s ears, dusts his nose. He bites the nail of his thumb, waiting patiently for Soobin to be done. 

And Soobin does so quickly, dumping the last sausages on a plate and putting an upside down bowl on top of it. He wipes his hands on his apron and tosses it aside, tilts his head and asks, “Ready?”

A bit too eager, Yeonjun jumps up. He bounces ahead of Soobin, rushing to the pier. A child seeing the world for the first time, excited and curious. His eyes are big, black pearls taking in everything there is to see. He comes to a screeching halt right where the wood ends, mouth slightly agape and chest rising and falling at the sudden jolt of energy. Soobin comes by his side a few moments later, chest to his back. Soobin towers over him, his shadow cast down like the clouds before the sun. 

“I can’t guarantee they’ll show up,” Soobin says. He rubs his neck. 

Yeonjun shrugs. “I can wait.” 

Silence befalls them, though it’s not unpleasant. Soobin’s body radiates heat, and Yeonjun snuggle close into it. The wind is chilly from the north, ice from the mountains still in the air. 

“Oh! Oh, Yeonjun! Look, right there!” Soobin’s face glows with excitement. “Holy shit! Did you catch it!” 

Yeonjun squints, trying to see through the muddled water. He catches it then, right by the pier; little turtle head peeking up. It’s gone faster than it came, but it doesn’t make it any less exciting. 

With a squeal Yeonjun grabs onto Soobin’s arm. “I did! Oh my god! It’s so cute!” 

Soobin’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t comment on it. He looks back into the lake. “You think there’ll be more?” 

“We can wait.” 

Yeonjun rests his cheek against Soobin’s shoulder. Soobin doesn’t move. Yeonjun snuggles closer, lays his hand on Soobin’s thigh, runs his fingers over it. He marvels shortly at how sturdy they feel under his touch, how small they make his hands look, thick and muscular. They stay by the lake long enough for the sky to shift. No more turtles reveal themselves, but they keep their hopes up. 

Soobin pats Yeonjun’s head, fingers curling into his dark locks for a second. “Want to have some drinks? You’re old enough, right?” 

Yeonjun is two glasses in. The other two have been distributed between his mother and aunt, a little bottom left. His father is going strong on rum with a splash of coke, as if the ‘treats’ from this afternoon hadn’t been enough. It’s none of Yeonjun’s concern tonight. Tonight is all about himself.  

The apples on Yeonjun’s cheeks are a rose tint, spreading all the way down to his jaw. The tip of his nose is colored the same. Wine does that to him. 

He runs his fingers over the edge of his wine glass. Soobin is behind the kitchen island, cleaning up while chugging down his fourth beer. He’d told Yeonjun about his tap with giddy excitement. It wasn’t the best brand, but it did the trick. With a dopey grin he looks up at Yeonjun. His gaze is glossed over by intoxication. Yeonjun’s heartbeat echoes through his ears. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, looking back down at his hands, though he sneaks glances when he can. 

The chatters behind them drown out any attention there is for them. Yeonjun checked to see if anyone was noticing them, only to catch his mother nearly tipping back and onto her floor while his aunt laughs at her. His father? Wasted. He won’t even notice if the earth spilts open before him. 

Yeonjun looks back down and frowns. Jimin. When did she get here? She’d snuck up on Soobin so silently he jumped when she tugged at his shirt. 

Hand on his chest he cups her head. “Jimin? Why are you out of bed?” 

“Thirsty,” she murmurs. She gives Yeonjun a sidelong glance before looking up at Soobin again. “Daddy, are you drunk? You’re acting silly.” 

“Not too much, sweetheart,” Soobin assures her. He crouches down to kiss her forehead. He hands her a glass of water. “Go back to sleep, okay? We’ll try not to be too loud in here.” 

She nods, holding her glass with both hands. She sends another confused look in Yeonjun’s direction, though quickly retreats back into her bedroom. Soobin watches after her. 

“She’s fast,” he says, absentminded. “Catches onto things I thought she wouldn’t. Things she shouldn’t.” 

“She’s bright,” Yeonjun agrees, bringing the glass back to his lips. It’s nearly empty, dry red scratching his throat. 

It makes him want to gag. It’s more disgusting than the cheap wines he’d managed to sneak at his friend’s house when they raided their parents’ alcohol cellar. This is something fancy, something he and his friends never had the luxury of trying. He pulls up his nose, coughing. 

Soobin raises the bottle. Yeonjun nods, pushing his glass forward. The liquid is thick as blood, splashes over the edge and falls onto the marble in droplets. Yeonjun drags his finger through them, runs his tongue down it before popping it between his lips. He’s sure Soobin’s eyes are on him. 

Soobin grins, albeit a little tight. “Might as well finish it, right?” 

Yeonjun agrees by gulping it all down in one go. As the world spins around him, Yeonjun shuts his eyes, salvages the fleeting, the floating sensation. He tilts his head back, rolls his neck. There’s some satisfying cracks and he lets out a satisfied moan. “Fuck… that’s so good.” 

He cracks open a lid, sees how Soobin’s gaze has darkened. It falls on him like a shadow in the woods, dark and sinister, unpredictable. Yeonjun raises a brow, corner of his mouth threatening to curve up. But Soobin turns to stare out of the window, far over Yeonjun. 

Aching fills Yeonjun chest; a quenching feeling he’s too familiar with. He grabs a chip and angrily chews on it, chin in his palm. 

“The stars are really bright outside right now,” Soobin comments. 

“Oh, Yeonjun loves the stars! Yeonjun, why don’t you go along with him?” his aunt suggests. “You two are getting along so well, it’s so nice to see! Nice to connect with another man, right? You two have so many things you could talk about.” 

It’s admirable how she did manage to catch that. How she even took the time to reply. And how she’s steering him and Soobin closer, all with innocent intention. 

Soobin nods, motions for Yeonjun to come along. Yeonjun practically jumps from his seat. He doesn’t bother with jackets; he’s sure he hadn’t even brought one. It’s the peak of summer, days too hot to do anything other than laze around. Soobin, however, passes the coat rack before slipping on his shoes. They’re out the door, alone in the dark. Yeonjun shivers, curling up into himself. 

Something drapes over his shoulders. He jerks his head to the side, eyes big and heart thumping in his throat. He can’t see much out here, but he can feel Soobin. His head spins.

“Seeing how cold you were by the lake I figured you’d need it,” Soobin says. 

“Thank you,” Yeonjun whispers. He takes a few steps before stumbling, too drunk to walk straight. He vaguely remembers there’s supposed to be stairs somewhere he, but he isn’t quite sure where, can’t gage the distance. 

“Careful,” Soobin warns. He takes Yeonjun’s arm and leads him down.

The grass feels cool on his ankles. He shudders, but lets Soobin guide him along. They stop at the driveway, far from all the lights from inside. 

“Look up,” Soobin tells, and Yeonjun obliges. 

It’s a sight to behold. He can see the universe from here, the furthest galaxies and stars he never knew the existence of, all spread over the pitch dark of the heavens, just for their eyes to see. Away from the city, away from people. They share surprised gasps, share their awe. 

“You can see the Milky Way from here,” Yeonjun says. 

“Yeah, it’s insane,” Soobin agrees, voice carried with childlike delight. “Our house in the city has too much light pollution. Can barely see the Big Dipper.” 

“Sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Though his face is barely to be seen in the black, Yeonjun can see Soobin’s eyes, can see the stars reflecting in them. From Andromeda to Sagittarius, the splotches of white heaven in between them. They light up in Soobin’s eyes. Yeonjun sinks to their depths. 

He’d been teetering on the edge for a while now, dipping his toes into the small pleasures. He had reveled in Soobin’s smile, his soft acts of kindness, his extra concern for when Yeonjun was feeling down. Arms spread wide, Yeonjun falls backwards into the deep and lets it consume him. 

He sneaks his hand over, lays it on top of Soobin’s. So large, and still so hot in the cold night. To Yeonjun’s joy Soobin doesn’t pull away. He stays still, beneath Yeonjun, steady breathing. 

The shadows shift and Soobin is looking at him. Right at him in utter silence. Yeonjun can feel his stare burning, the intensity of a million fires. A single strand of grain caught by flames, eaten up into an inferno. 

With blinded vision he leans forward and tastes a lick of Soobin. A sip of wine, letting it sit in his mouth and paint the edges before spitting it out. 

Soobin is frozen as Yeonjun blinks at him. “So that’s what you’ve been trying to do.” 

His voice is the low rumble of the turning sails. Yeonjun leans forward again, desperate for another taste, an alcoholic stripped from his source. Soobin has sweetened venom on his lips, makes Yeonjun want to die and come to life all over again. He scrambles into Soobin’s lap and Soobin pulls him closer, hands running from Yeonjun’s hips to the curve of his ass. 

The fire has burned up in the distance. No one can see. It’s only him, Soobin and the stars as their witness. 

Yeonjun wraps his arms around Soobin’s neck, presses their chests together. Their crotches rub and it shoots something hot to the bottom of Yeonjun’s stomach. Soobin’s hands on him are scalding yet spine-shivering. Yeonjun lets out a whine, tugging at the bottom of Soobin’s shirt. Soobin holds them down. It’s marvelous how small Yeonjun’s wrists look between his fingers. 

With a pout Yeonjun looks up. 

Soobin sighs. “Yeonjun, we’re outside.” 

The only problem Yeonjun sees is Soobin is still outside of him. 

“No one will see,” Yeonjun breaths, kissing down Soobin’s neck. “Promise. No one will see. Won’t know.” 

Soobin lets out a soft groan. “Tomorrow, Yeonjun. Let’s… fuck… let’s do this tomorrow.” 

They return to the living room with swollen lips and messed up hair. Everyone’s far too drunk to notice. Yeonjun feels electricity run through every nerve of his body, hyperaware of how alive he truly is. 

Yeonjun is an actor. He’s been taught how to pretend from a young age, and if gifted, why not abuse it? With his best miserable face and stomach clutch, Yeonjun joins everyone at the table for breakfast. He lays his head on the cool marble. It isn’t a lie that he’s feeling queasy, though he isn’t certain if it’s a hangover or nerves. But he trusts Soobin. He would trust him even if the world called him a liar. 

“Good morning, Jun,” his mother teases. “Rough night?” 

She looks too happy to be the woman he knows. He considers it a favor from the universe. The people flock around him; he searches the crowd for one in particular. And he finds him. He finds him with a knowing gaze, begs him in a secret language only they know. Please, remember. Please, don’t drop me now, not when you brought me to the sky before teaching me how to fly. 

“Mom, I don’t feel so good,” Yeonjun murmurs. “Can I please go lie down?” 

His mother stops pouring coffee. She frowns. “What about the boat trip?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s his tone that makes his mother soften. She runs her fingers through his hair, pats it down. “Rest well, Jun-ah.”

Yeonjun feels sick to the stomach. Sick because he’s getting away with it. With heavy strides he locks himself into his room and waits, because that’s all he can do. His stomach shrinks into a shriveled up mess, poking in weird directions and sending bile up his throat, but he forces it down, together with his painfully throbbing chest. He wipes his palms and holds his breath. 

He waits and listens and — deep down, hidden by his false pride — hopes. It’s a dangerous thing, especially for a dreamer like him, but still, no matter how many times he gets bruised and beaten, how many times he gets used, he hopes. Time after time after time, Yeonjun hopes, because that is all he can do. 

“Soobin? Are you coming along on the boat trip?” Yeonjun hears his aunt’s voice, hushed, like it’s something no one is supposed to hear. 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I’ve got some work to finish up. I need to email this big client. They’ve been up my ass.” 

“Shh, no cursing. The kids might hear.” 

“I’m sure the kids know what an ‘ass’ is.” 

“Soobin. Hush.” 

A big sigh, but no protest. Heavy footsteps make their way across the house. The wall shakes with a door slamming shut. It feels dead. For the first time there is no gold rimmed glory hanging around the place, like a shrine in church, a sacred place where all is splendid and holy. Yeonjun holds his heart and prays. 

Sometimes Yeonjun feels like nothing more than a little boy who’s angry at the world, angry at the people in it. Angry what’s happening to it, angry and powerless. He’s on his knees, at its mercy and begs a higher power to just once allow him some of its good, to gift him one of Their angels. He prays with his eyes shut, with his arms wrapped around his knees. 

His pleas are answered with a knock on his door. 

“Yeonjun?”

It’s Soobin. 

Yeonjun is up on his feet, the wind of his strength ruffling Soobin’s hair like Yeonjun imagined it would look had they run into each other at the park. A first time meeting, destined. Serendipity at their feet.

Yeonjun cups Soobin’s cheeks and pulls him into a heated kiss. It’s far from the one they shared yesterday, more desperate, with a sense of urgency. Soobin no longer tastes like alcohol, but it’s just as intoxicating. Soobin pulls away and takes Yeonjun by the wrist. Yeonjun lets him. 

He lets himself be dragged across the house and into the bathroom. Soobin locks the door behind them. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to, when his lips are on Yeonjun’s again. His hands travel down his body, trapping him against the sink. With a swift motion, he hitches Yeonjun onto the vanity. Instinctively, Yeonjun wraps his legs around Soobin’s slender waist. Soobin tears off his shirt, then moves on to Yeonjun’s. 

The sudden draft makes Yeonjun shudder, together with the icy porcelain sticking into his side. However, Soobin’s hands rub up his torso, lays his palms on Yeonjun’s chest, pushes down. Yeonjun hums, hooks his grip behind Soobin’s neck. He presses kisses down his throat, sucks at it, but not hard enough for it to leave marks. Ghostly pecks. He nuzzles his nose to Soobin’s jaw.  

Soobin’s thumbs slip into his pants, pulling them down. “You really do have a turtle on you.” 

The comment snaps Yeonjun out of his haze for a moment. He’s exposed, bared under Soobin’s gaze. And Soobin can see him. He sees him, everything there is to him. Yeonjun breaks away.

A firm set of fingers tip Yeonjun’s head back up, rough under his chin. “Don’t hide, darling.” 

Yeonjun’s mouth, swollen and glossed over with saliva, falls open slightly. He nods, though his eyes travel away. 

Soobin sighs, brushing over Yeonjun’s bottom lip. “What did I say?” 

“Sorry…” Yeonjun’s voice falls into a whisper. 

“You’re so beautiful, darling. It would be a waste to hide yourself away.” 

“You think I’m beautiful?” Yeonjun’s heart swells up, blood shooting up to his head. It’s too much for his body to contain; he might just burst into a million pieces. 

“Of course,” Soobin says. “Anyone in their right mind would agree with me.” 

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath on words, He leans forward, pressing himself into Soobin. His hand travels down from Soobin’s neck all the way down to his throbbing bulge. He palms it, squeezing a groan out of Soobin. He swallows it with another kiss. He could die happy, licking the poison off Soobin’s lips. 

Soobin holds Yeonjun’s wrist. “Come on, love, let me get you ready, okay?” 

Yeonjun nods, clamping his eyes shut. There’s some rummaging in a drawer. Yeonjun doesn’t dare look. Soobin runs his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair before resting it on his hip. He digs into the soft skin, leaving dents in it. With his free hand he spreads Yeonjun’s legs apart. He kneads into the flesh of Yeonjun’s ass, spreads them apart. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes… Yes, this is fine…” Yeonjun says. “Not my first time.” 

Soobin pecks his forehead. “I’ve got you, okay?” 

Soobin’s finger prods at Yeonjun’s hole, almost as if he’s teasing. It’s freezing, slicked up with lube. Yeonjun’s sure it’s dripping down, onto the stones beneath them. Without warning Soobin slips a finger inside. Yeonjun’s breath hitches. He digs his nails into Soobin’s shoulders, the burn twisting his face into a frown. A high whine spills from his lips. “Fuck… Ah, fuck…” 

Soobin circles around for a bit. “Relax, love. It’ll hurt less.” 

As much as Yeonjun wants to, the nerves are high in his system and the surprise, the pleasure. The adrenaline. It’s a mix of chemicals in his system and he’s not sure what he’s feeling. There is pain, but greater than that, there is pleasure. Soobin slips in a second finger, pushing in and out. He’s knuckle deep and Yeonjun is so hazy he doesn’t even notice when Soobin moves on to three. He arches his back, trying to find a better position, to feel Soobin better. 

The sound of soft pants and squelches echoes through the empty bathroom, bounces off the walls like a symphony. Yeonjun’s a trembling mess, clutching onto Soobin with all his might. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Soobin murmurs against him. “So good for me, aren’t you? You’re so gorgeous. Knew it from the moment I saw you, you were dangerous.” 

Yeonjun can only respond with a thin moan. 

Soobin grins, pulling out his fingers. “Such a mess already. And you were so confident.” 

“No, no, can take more,” Yeonjun babbles. “Please, can take more. I promise. I can take it.” 

“Never said you couldn’t,” Soobin says. He unbuckles his belt. He kisses Yeonjun again, sucks on his tongue. 

Yeonjun’s so far gone, running on the clouds. He’s flying. He’s soaring through the sky, all the way up to Heaven. He feels prodding against his ass, though it doesn’t register any of it, drunk on Soobin. It burns, but it feels amazing. He feels so full, so complete. 

“Soobin… fuck, Soobin,” he whimpers. “Soobin. Soobin… ah.” 

“You’re perfect, baby.” Soobin sounds strained. “You’re taking me so well. You’re… fuck, you’re perfect to me. A dream come true.” 

And Heaven, what a lovely place it is. Yeonjun’s back knocks into the mirror with ever thrust Soobin hits him with, entire body jumbled into a wreckage. Tears rim his lashes, and he doesn’t fight them, lets them run down his cheeks and onto his chest. He chokes on a sob, clenching down on Soobin’s dick. He slips down, Soobin’s hands hooked underneath his thighs to reposition them. Yeonjun lets it happen with no protests. Not that he could let out any comprehendible word in this state. 

He rolls his hips, trying to meet Soobin’s thrusts the best he can. A string of moans spills from his lips, turning pitchier the longer they’re going, barely muted by the slapping of skin on skin. His nails leave scratches down Soobin’s back. A small voice in his head screams at him, but it’s tucked away with his sober, logical mind. Right now he’s stuck in the moment, gray days washed away by a psychedelic downpour. His stomach tightens.

“Soobin,” Yeonjun cries. It’s like it’s the only thing he knows how to say, the only thing he knows. 

“Yes, baby?” Soobin’s skin is damp with sweat, bangs sticking to his forehead. His voice is lower, a pant. His eyebrows are furrowed together, lips slightly parted. 

Fuzzy and brightened, Yeonjun’s world tumbles. Soobin’s tight grip wraps around his cock. Yeonjun’s body jolts at the touch. Euphoria takes over his soul, his being. He pulls Soobin down into a kiss, lips coming together with such force it has to leave its marks. Yeonjun meets Heaven in streaks of white. Soobin pulses into him, rides out his high. 

Suddenly Heaven’s ivory walls turn red, turn into the bricks in the bathroom. Yeonjun stares around him with bleary eyes. He blinks up at Soobin. 

Soobin rubs his thumb in comforting circles on Yeonjun’s hip. “Are you okay?” 

Yeonjun doesn’t speak, too hazy. 

Soobin grins, a sun lying low in the sky. Pink, orange, melting into lavenders and navy blue. He runs his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He picks up Yeonjun like he’s a baby. Yeonjun wraps himself around Soobin, slack and weakened. His muscles are still tingling with the aftershocks. Soobin’s body vibrates with his laughter; Yeonjun lets himself sink in its waves. It’s like a soft lullaby after a nightmare, lulled into a calm. 

Soobin runs them a shower. A bath would take too long. He runs the shower head down Yeonjun’s body, rinses out his hair, washes away all the sweat, cum, drool. Yeonjun rests his head against Soobin’s chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. He shuts his eyes. It’s lovely, being cared for. 

By the time everyone returns Yeonjun’s back in bed. Soobin is in his office. Yeonjun pretends like he’s sleeping. He wishes he could, with how sore and exhausted his body is. His bones are made of gelatin, can barely keep him up. Perhaps he really is sick; ill with Cupid’s arrow. He hugs his pillow and pretends it’s a person, holds it close to his chest and buries his nose into it. It doesn’t smell like Soobin, but he can pretend. 

The sheets feel so much colder now that he knows how warm Soobin is, how much warmer the human touch can make him. Yeonjun’s match has burned up, but it has set a field on fire. He’s a phoenix in ashes, waiting to be brought back to life again. He knows who can do it. It’s too much to ask. Even Yeonjun knows ounces of shame. 

A soft knock rasps against Yeonjun’s door. Yeonjun almost lets excitement take over his senses, but he’s quick to catch himself. It’s his mother, softly sneaking in. She lays a palm to Yeonjun’s forehead. 

“Oh, Jun, you’re burning up.” 

Yeonjun stirs, looks at her through bleary eyes. 

“Oh, Jun, you’re really sick,” she says. “Should I pack your bag?” 

“‘M fine,” Yeonjun murmurs. “Already have it ready.” 

“Your dad and I will be ready in a few, alright?” His mother lays her fingers against his cheeks, shaking her head. “Try to rest a little more, okay?” 

Once the door locks, Yeonjun is up on his feet. He checks himself in the mirror, fixes himself as much as he can. He slips on his shorts and a tank top, tops it with a flannel. He puts on a smile. It shakes, barely reaches his eyes. Sucking in a breath through the nose, he tries again. Maybe no teeth, that one’s harder to maintain. He shakes his head and drags himself out the door. 

He drops himself on the couch, stares ahead of him. He can hear speaking, can see the rest of his family huddled up in the corner of the living room. Their discussion sounds heated. He pays it no mind. He can barely hear anything. When he dares look, Soobin isn’t there. He sinks down into the couch further. 

Hope is an unspeakable thing. Hope is a dangerous thing. Having hope is what makes the soul grown, but losing it kills the brightest minds. It dies, over and over again. Yeonjun knows it will be sparked back to life soon enough, but the pit it kicks him into is nothing he will ever get used to. It feels like his heart has been carved out with a blunt knife, digging into his chest as it forces itself through his nerves and vessels.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hugging his aunt on the way out. He’s sick after all; he doesn’t want to infect anyone. 

Useless as it is, he stares through the window, if maybe he will catch a glimpse. Yeonjun is stupid to try. Still, he crosses his heart, breathes in and counts to five. When he looks again he learns it’s silly to wish. But Soobin, he has turned him into this idiotic fool, who has been taught what the world up above can look like, how wonderful and magical it can be. He has wings now, but nowhere to fly to. 

But Yeonjun would crash and burn if it means seeing Soobin again. 

Bag cuddled to his chest, Yeonjun slips into the backseat. His aunt and the kids wave, invite them back again — out of courtesy. Yeonjun waves back, his father honks. 

As they pull up, Yeonjun looks over his shoulder through the rear window, eyes searching. They gloss over, lips trembling. He puts on his sunglasses and paints on a smile. No one has to see he’s close to tears. No one has to know.