Chapter Text
The golden dusk was bleeding into a shaded evening blue, the citylights reflecting across the glass doors like scattered diamonds. Wumuti trailed out of the kitchen, an obsidian mug of steaming black coffee in one hand and a book in the other. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, leading out to the breezy balcony. The ceramic cup sat on the engraved wooden table with a soft thud as they lowered themselves onto the cushioned lounger.
Time ticked with a slow ease. The autumn chill was already biting at the air, crisp and smelling faintly of dry leaves, but Wumuti remained warm, cocooned in the heavy maroon robe draped around their body. They let a soft ballad drown out the distant chatter of the traffic, flicking the pages over at an unhurried pace. Although the highest floors of their apartment were beyond the range of the city honks, this balcony remained a deliberate choice. Their eyes drifted away from the italics on the book to the far left.
They clicked right into the vague, backlit window of the apartment complex across the streets. The boy snapped away in an instant, suddenly deeply invested in the textbook on his desk. Wumuti simply drew their attention back to the pages, lips curved in a sly, knowing smirk, dampening with each bitter sip.
A young student who had moved into the modest side of the lane. There was this absurd unspoken game they had been playing for the past month. They had noticed him the first night— a small, lean silhouette framed by textbooks and a monitor perched on his table. Those eyes became a lingering routine, and their minor initial irritation dissolved into something different shockingly fast. The curtains were just a click away from bringing the privacy back to its place, yet Wumuti never found themselves desiring to spoil the show. The fascination of the boy... it twisted a strange nerve of amusement in them, and they found themselves a bit too willing to entertain the kid.
────────
Haru huffed in a tired stretch, arms aching as he reached behind his head. His eyes sneaked up again and he finally let out a sigh of relief when he saw the stranger return to their book. He had his gaze trapped in a long, drawn-out admiration. He watched the honey blonde curls that shifted in the wind and the slow, graceful movements of the person... it was all hypnotic to his eyes. They were unlike anyone he had ever known, almost surreal in their silk and furs. And honestly? Probably the age of his dad.
"Ughh" Did he look like an absolute weirdo right now? What would they even think of him? A broke college student losing sleep and destroying his eyesight over a gorgeous, wealthy man twice his age. But how could he not look? So he stayed melting into his seat, chin sinking into his palms as he just... stared.
The sight finally dimmed as the sky turned a bruised purple, until the stranger finally retreated back into the warmth of their room. Left with nothing, he slumped over the table with a frustrated groan, his forehead hitting the wood. He was far too drained to turn through the scattered notebooks. The class test was approaching, however, he still had the weekends. With that excuse in mind, his hips pushed back into the chair to skip out of his seat.
His phone buzzed with a text from the group chat. "Guys! Late night tteokbokki?" Haru huffed, a small, tired smile finally breaking through his exhaustion. He needed the distraction. He pulled an oversized black hoodie over his head, hiding himself away, and reached for his cap. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and grabbed the headphones on his way out.
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The jazz faded with each step as Wumuti emerged from the bar, greeted by a pleasant biting chill. The wind played with the loose curls of their messy bun and tugged at the partly unbuttoned top beneath their fur coat. It was a perfect night, making the choice of walking back to the apartment sound pretty convincing. They were halfway to their lobby when a silhouette struck their peripheral vision. Their pace faltered, the pleasant haze of the alcohol clearing a bit.
It was him. Even under the dim streetlights, they recognised the frame— the shadow that had become a familiar, uninvited guest of their daily routine. Up close he looked jarringly small. Wumuti's lips twitched, amused by how utterly checked out he was. Engrossed in the screen, thumb busy in constant swipes and headphones providing the final barrier to the world. He looked like he'd walk into a lamp post in a minute.
A playful impulse bubbled up. They didn't deviate an inch and continued their normal strides. When their paths crossed, the texture of the fur brushed against the soft cotton of his hoodie. A rich, intoxicating scent hit his nose immediately. He could swear his heart would leap out of his throat the moment he turned to the taller, fur-draped figure. Wumuti didn't pause or look back, they simply bit back a giggle as they heard the frantic clatter of his phone nearly hitting the pavement behind them.
Haru's mind was empty of the elevator ride and the way he fumbled with his keycard. Somehow stumbling back into his room, he threw his back right against the cold surface of the door. He could still hear his heart thunder all the way up to his ears. Did they see him? Recognise him? Did they even know him?
The thought of being seen by them was paralyzing. Yet, the idea of being entirely unknown curled like an unfair twist in his gut. The smell of the perfume was still stuck to him... invasive, striking every nerve in his brain. It sounded foolish but after weeks of peering at the distant stranger, suddenly the reality of them being a tangible person was staggering. Haru slumped face-down on his bed, waiting for his pulse to slow down.
Eventually, he forced his weight up from the mattress to scramble his way to the table. He didn't reach to turn the lights on, hiding in the dark like every other night. He climbed onto the chair, one knee folding over the table, looking like a sneaky cat climbing on the furniture as he slid open the window.
After a few counts, the man stepped out once again, working a white towel over their damp hair. They were wearing a long, heavy-knit cardigan left entirely unbuttoned. Even from a distance, Haru's eyes greedily tracked the soft shadows along their abdomen under the glow of the balcony lights. The pants slung dangerously low on their hips, and Haru's gaze betrayed him at once, flicking right down to the center with a boyish curiosity he'd never learnt to supress.
A cigar went between Wumuti's lips as they tossed the towel down onto a chair and flicked a lighter. The flame illuminated their features for a split second— a familiar addictive view that sent a restless, damp heat prickling down Haru's belly. He watched the hollow dip of their cheeks as they took the first puff, the cherry of the cigarette glowing bright orange in the dark. He sank deeper against the edge of the desk, a ragged exhale escaping him with the cold wood pressing up against his warm, thumping pulse. Old or not, this was the hottest view he had ever witnessed. Who could blame him?
But then his smug sense of privacy snapped abruptly. The man's eyes locked directly into the square of his room. Haru's breath hitched as he felt terrifyingly visible despite the lightless room. His immediate instinct was to scurry back into his room and slam the window shut, but their gaze seemed to have a pinning weight over his body that kept him trapped on the desk.
They leaned over the railing, the fabric hanging slightly away from their skin to reveal the shadows of their chest. Their eyes never wavered, a steady, deliberate contact that only served to make Haru increasingly anxious. He watched them exhale, the plumes of smoke curling lazily around their shoulders. His mind scrambled, trying to imagine the taste of the smoke, the taste of... them.
His hips hitched an inch against the desk, a damp leak began to pool between his legs. The frantic dread that they could see everything was the exact thing driving him insane, the pure adrenaline of the risk only made him slide into a deeper, wetter mess. He tried and mostly failed to bite back the pathetic whimpers catching in the back of his throat.
Before he knew, Wumuti took one last, slow drag, the cherry brightening before they tapped the ash into the dark. Then with an agonizingly casual grace, they straightened up and walked right back through the doors. The click of the latch was the only thing that finally broke the invisible tether. Haru remained frozen there, a frustrating heat still gnawing at his core, leaving him ruined and breathless on his desk.
────────
The next morning was a whirl of study sessions and caffeine. Haru spent the entire afternoon with his nose shoved into his textbooks, but he had to constantly yank back the strings of his mind from last night's incidents. An anxious knot tightened in his throat every time he glanced at the empty balcony. He tried to quiet the 'what ifs' that made no sense, but the silence across the lane was louder than the city. The Sun had already begun to go down when the doorbell cut through his quiet. He yanked it open to find his friend standing in the corridor, holding a package.
"Here Haru!" she spoke, shoving it into his chest. "Caught the delivery guy wandering, so I grabbed it for you," she explained. "Huh? A parcel?" Haru blinked, looking down.
"But dude, who the hell is Wumuti? Did you get a boyfriend or something overnight?" she laughed, already turning to head back down the hall. "Whatever dude... that looks expensive!" Haru stared blankly at the matte black box. It was tied with a cream ribbon that made it seem more like a museum piece than a parcel. Panicking, he sprinted down to the ground floor to find his landlord.
"This? Ah that's the wealthy gentleman living across the lane," the elderly woman informed. Haru felt the floor tilt beneath his feet. His hands now trembled, suddenly hyper-aware of the expensive weight of the package. "Since you've got it, why don't you just walk it over?", the landlord suggested casually. "You could just hand it over to a guard at the gate."
Haru practically flew back up the stairs to his room, collapsing on his bed and burying his face into the pillow to stifle a scream. What if he came across Mr. Wumuti? Especially after last night, he couldn't imagine having to ever face them in person. He surely couldn't leave this package to rot in his cramped apartment either? Letting out a muffled whine, he mentally cursed his own luck.
────────
Wumuti leaned back into the plush depths of the sofa, legs stretched towards the marble coffee table. They wore a black, velvet robe, the fabric thick and tied loosely... perhaps too loosely around their waist. In one hand they swirled the remains of the neat, amber whiskey. The crystal glass caught the dim, ambient glow of the room, sending sharp golden fractures of light dancing across their knuckles.
They let out a small huff, head falling back against the cushion. Ridiculous. A grown man playing digital pranks on a student. But as the whiskey burned through their blood, not a single hint of regret could be found. Their tablet chimed. A tap on the screen and there he was.
Wumuti's eyes twinkled with a delighted spark as the gates finally opened for him. The boy looked precious. He was engulfed in a baby pink sweater, the oversized fabric making him look even smaller. A black cat was printed across his chest, its wide eyes as adorable as his. Wumuti's lips curled into a sluggish smile. It was almost too much, the pink wool, clumsy sneakers... he looked edible. A little strawberry shortcake topped with a bow.
On the security screen, Haru clutched the black box like a shield. He looked lost. The guard nodded almost instantly, gesturing towards the elevator exactly as Wumuti had instructed. They could see the way his eyes flickered awkwardly to the guard, the way his mouth opened and closed shut. He clearly wanted nothing more than to just drop the parcel and flee. Too bad for him, they hadn't approved that exit.
"Poor thing", Wumuti breathed, letting out a genuine, airy laugh that they couldn't bother to suppress.
Once the elevator slid open with a chime, Haru hesitantly stepped into the halls. He ultimately stopped before what seemed to be the door he was expected to find.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Deafening silence followed. The corridor was too big, the air too heavy. Was it even audible? Should I do it again? What if it's the wrong door? A plethora of thoughts jumbled in his mind, though his hands had already surrendered, too weak to move another inch. He began to consider sprinting back to the elevator when the knob started to twist. His last hope of facing some sort of house-help also snapped like a dry twig with the door parting open.
Haru forced his chin up despite the nerves, attempting to show a semblance of manners. But the moment his eyes locked into theirs, the air was sucked clean from his lungs. The senior looked down at him, heavy lidded and glassy eyed, a warm alcoholic blur softening the edges of their sharp gaze. A dizzying surge of shyness swam across Haru's vision. The heat from their gaze seemed to blow right into his cheeks. He flared up even without a hint of alcohol, face matching the pink of his top.
His eyes betrayed him once again as he blinked down at their chest, at the exposed, faintly flushed skin, breathing amidst the V-line of the robe. They didn't seem to mind though. They let him ogle, watching with an unusual fondness as the chocolate brown eyes, half hidden under the messy bangs, lingered on their collarbones.
The scent of whiskey hung in the air between them. They were so close, overwhelmingly beautiful and intimate. Haru felt his head begin to float, hot blood rushing down his body, making his toes curl into the soles of his shoes and thighs press closer in embarrassment.
He eventually stretched his arms to hold the parcel forward without a word. Wumuti's movements were syrupy, lagging with a graceful intoxication. Their hand closed around the edge of the box, but Haru's fingers clutching onto it nearly forgot how to give the thing away. With a little, triumphant tug, Wumuti slid the box from his grip. Okay. Now run.
Haru offered a jerky, polite bow before beginning to turn, his mind already prepared to flee. But before he could walk a step, an unfamiliar broad weight wrapped around the delicate curve of his wrist. Haru's heart thumped as their thumb rested over his pulse. It was a gentle tug that sent tingles crawling up his skin. The grip shifted into a slow dragging slide that forced him to turn back to them.
"Come inside for a minute, sweetheart?"
The words sounded like they'd melt his kneecaps. That voice... it was the kind of sexy that was ruining his pants at the moment. All the excuses were lost in the muddle of his brain, only muttering a... "Why?" It was a tiny, pathetic squeak. The sound of a boy who was currently dissolving under a single pet name.
The blunt question filtered through the alcohol, a slow smile pulling at their mouth. "Because," they leaned down to his level, voice a soft murmur. "I say it's too early for you to go, and you're going to listen to me...aren't you?" Haru's heart did a frantic flutter, not finding the strength to voice a 'no'. So he offered a tiny, unsure nod of his head, one that made Wumuti's eyes crinkle with a dark, paternal affection.
They turned, hand still tangled with his and led him into the room. Even though it felt like getting abducted by a beautiful senior, the ingrained instinct kicked in. His fingers tightened for a split second as he clumsily kicked off his sneakers. Even in crisis he wasn't going to be the person to ruin the floors.
Now in just his socks, he could feel the cold floor beneath his feet. His eyes darted to the decorated walls, the cinematic paintings, the curtains that pooled on the marble floor like spilled ink. Haru followed behind them like a cat on a leash, and once they reached the sofa, Wumuti finally let go.