Archive of Our Own

Sejun is in despair.

See, no matter what Subin claimed, Sejun had studied for his business administration final.

He had even, in fact and god fucking forbid, made summaries of every lesson—had asked his classmates for their notes and summaries to make summaries of those too, had then looked them over together with the presentations and readings from class, not to mention reading the extra texts the professor and TA had recommended throughout the term and summarizing those, too.

Sejun had studied. He knew his grades were down the drain (no thanks to his amazing ability to have knowledge come in one ear and out the other), knew that he needed to pass the cursed exam with a grade close to perfect just to be able to pass the class.

So, he had studied his ass off (god forgive his swearing) and expected to make it.

Alas, he did not.

The TA had called him over with a polite smile that bordered on pitying, had slid Sejun back his exam upside down and tapped on the desk patiently.

Sejun had taken the cursed thing and nearly ran to his seat, palms sweating and emotions on his sleeve as he fought between staying positive and just giving up before seeing the result.

And then, midway through his grade and anxiety induced mini-crisis, Subin (who had sneaked into Sejun’s class, since his own was already over and he didn’t want to go home yet) had taken the exam from his hands and flipped it over with a huff.

…

“Oh” Subin’s voice is soft, pitying— and Sejun had just shut his eyes tight, even covered them with his hands to just not see whatever grade and doom from the great beyond Subin had uncovered upon flipping his exam paper. “You passed the exam, I guess, but, uh,”

“Uh?” High-pitched, sounding like Sejun is about to either cry or flee (or most likely both, actually). Subin sighs, eyebrows drawn into a frown, pulls on Sejun’s arm with very little strength and a lot of masked frustration until he can get it to fall on the desk.

“You know, just,” a little noise that’s stuck between I’m so sorry and this is fine—an awkward wave of Subin’s hand in the air and close to Sejun’s.

“I don’t?” as Sejun let his eyes open, breath held and expecting nothing but his certain death.

He lets himself read the grade on the paper, feels hours of studying fall short as Satan laughs in his face.

One point.

A single point.

Sejun’s grade is a single point short.

He had managed to pass the exam with flying colours and yet, curse him, he hadn’t gotten enough to pass the fucking class.

Sejun will die.

“Fuck” Sejun curses maybe a little too loud, just maybe, but the classroom is now mostly empty anyway and, may God forgive him, he thinks he deserves a little swearing right now. “What the fuck”

“Yeah,” With an awkward laugh, Subin stretches over the desk— much like a cat— eyes lost somewhere on the empty whiteboard and the desk up front. “You really did well, though, I’m surprised”

“Yeah, thanks, but” and Sejun’s voice rings desperate and loud, palms flat over the accursed exam on the desk on front of him. “I’m missing one point”

Subin only laughs again, eyes darting back to Sejun as Subin rests the side of his head on the desk.

“I don’t wanna take the class again” Sejun whines, hand coming up to push blue hair away from his forehead—lips twisted into a pout as he thinks about all those hours he spent reading and rereading business concepts— “I’ll die”

“You won’t die, hyung” an eyeroll before Subin lifts up from the table, pulls the exam back from Sejun’s hand—flips through it with uninterested eyes and careful fingers.

“I will” Sejun makes a vague, suffering hand motion towards the exam and Subin—still pouting and with a frown on his face. “Imagine taking this class again, god, Subin, I won’t survive—”

“Can’t you ask for the point, then?”

“What?” What?

“Ask your TA?” Subin points at said TA with the paper, cocks his head to the side. “If you beg enough—”

“If I beg enough—” He steals a glance at the TA, who’s sitting at the front of the classroom. He’s wearing a colourful scarf that contrasts with his platinum blond hair, and his legs are crossed under the desk as he scrolls through his phone without much interest.

This begs (ha) the question: Is Sejun beyond begging?

Seungsik, the TA, stretches his legs under the desk—turns off his phone screen before reaching for his bag, leaving it over the table as he arranges his things.

Sejun bites at the inside of his cheek.

Is he beyond begging?

The answer is no, he is not—he is a broke university student who’s desperate to pass his damn business class before he has to take it for a second time and suffer all over again, actually, and so—

“You said he’s nice, right? Plus, he’s hot, so win-win?” Subin cuts through his thoughts with a light-hearted comment and a half-smile, Sejun lets his lips part a second.

Yeah. Sejun will beg.

But (and he makes sure to tell this to Subin as he grabs his exam back and prepares himself for the walk of shame up to the front of the classroom) Seungsik being hot has absolutely nothing to do with Sejun’s willingness to beg, let it be remembered.

The walk of shame feels longer than it should be, especially with Subin waving at him like he’s never gonna see Sejun after today, and especially when Seungsik turns up to look at him with hands frozen over his bag.

Long, yes, but also all too short—and Sejun is absolutely not prepared to beg for his life (read: his grade), and he has no idea what he’s going to even say when he’s already standing in front of Seungsik with his damn exam held in tense hands.

Dear God up there, give him strength.

“Uh” Uh.

“Are you done looking over your exam?” Sejun’s hands loosen their grip a little bit as he licks his lips, gives Seungsik a sharp nod.

“Yeah, just—” Seungsik smiles at him, holds his hand out for Sejun to hand the paper over—Sejun does, albeit awkwardly, gears turning in his head over and over and over— “I might fail the class?” High-pitched and choked up—and he swears he can hear Subin laughing from the back of the classroom, all too cocky for someone who had yet to go through the horrors of upper level business classes.

“Ah” Seungsik gives him a little laugh as he takes Sejun’s exam back, seems to look it over, flips through pages as he eyes little marks and notes in red. “You did well, though? But—”

“Is—” Sejun hopes his desperation is obvious but not too much, remnants of his pride telling him to just suck it up and go study again. “There any way… I could get the point, like” Sejun cracks his knuckles to calm his nerves, looks at anywhere but Seungsik as he lets his glorious brain do some talking that might just end up taking him to his doom. “It’s just one point, please, I can’t fail the class because of one point, I—”

“I could look the exam over, but I can’t really promise anythi—”

“Please” He lets one of his hands drop on the table, nails clicking loud as they hit cool material—Sejun breathes in, looks at a random point in Seungsik’s chest and oh my god— “I’ll really do anything, just—”

“You don’t really have to—” And his face is half-hidden under the cute scarf and Sejun is both about to die from begging for his life (read: his grade) and because he’s been crying over Seungsik all term because the guy’s hot and Sejun is gay—

“Anything—Anything you want, please, I can’t afford to fail, I—”

“I can look it over, it’s okay, just—”

“Please!” Subin cackles from somewhere at the back of the room, but Sejun pays him no mind, focuses fully on his begging— “I’ll get on my knees? I can get on my knees, please” And he’s about to fall on his knees, but then Seungsik makes a noise between amused and bewildered, and Sejun stops.

“You don’t have to do that, oh my god” Seungsik’s almost laughing, exam now on the table as he seems to fix his jacket and scarf and try not to burst out laughing. “It’s fine, I’ll do my best—”

“Please” Sejun pouts, much like a kicked puppy, hands held in front of him in something that’s almost like a prayer. “I will do whatever, anything, just a point, please, just a point”

“If—” Seungsik’s hand falls over the paper again, picks it up from a corner with tight lips before he speaks again. “If I accept your offer, will you please stop begging”

“Yes” What?

“Take me to lunch?”

“Huh?” Huh? “Lunch?” Seungsik nods with a little smile, slips the exam into a folder and into his bag with quick movements.

“I’m broke” A laugh as he slings his bag strap over his shoulder, makes sure the classroom computer is turned off properly while he speaks. “It can be anything, really, whenever you have time?”

“Just that?” Seungsik turns away from the computer, satisfied as it whirrs and turns off, looks at Sejun and nods again.

“You’re offering anything, so”

“Oh” Sejun falls back against the closest desk with something like relief— “Thank god”

Seungsik gives him a blink, a crooked smile before he bursts out laughing and gets out his phone.

“You were the one offering anything, and yet?”

“I’m desperate” Sejun pouts, watches as Seungsik opens up a screen with his phone number written in.

“I can see that” as he gestures it towards Sejun— Sejun just stares at the screen like it’s alien to him, and Seungsik snorts. “So you can tell me when you can treat me”

“Oh—Oh.” Sejun gets his phone out with clumsy fingers, types in Seungsik’s number and saves it—sends a message with his name, class—Seungsik laughs as he saves Sejun’s contact, and Sejun tries his very best to ignore that this might feel like a date with the hot TA he’s been suffering over all term. “I expected you to ask for something else, or like, bigger? Even if it pained me—"

“Nah” Seungsik puts his phone away, keeps his hands in his pockets. “I’m a good man” a cheeky smile, a little shrug. “I’m also broke, food’s always good”

“Not money?” Seungsik squints his eyes slightly at Sejun.

“Do you want me to ask for money?”

“No!”

“Then stop making a big deal out of it” another laugh, and then Seungsik’s walking to leave the room—Sejun follows him like a puppy, and Subin cackles from Sejun’s desk even as he picks up all their stuff. “Just treat me, and I’ll look over your exam”

“Seems fishy” and Seungsik does something that’s almost a cackle, face burying just a little more into his scarf and shoulders shaking under his jacket.

“You were the one begging?”

“Yeah, but” Sejun shrugs, skip in his step as he avoids tripping on air and making a bigger fool of himself (Subin would argue that that’s simply not possible, Sejun thinks, because Sejun had spent the whole term tripping on desks and falling asleep after arriving late—his reputation in Seungsik’s eyes is already beyond ruined—). “I didn’t—I didn’t think this through, okay?”

“Not surprised” And Seungsik gives him a laugh, a smile that comes together with a wave of his hand once they reach the hallway. “I’ll see you when I see you?”

Sejun only nods dumbly.

_____

“He asked me for food” Sejun speaks over a miserable plate of cold and cheap pasta, phone face up and conversation with Seungsik open (still empty, of course). Subin nods, uninterested, leans back to fall back on Seungwoo’s chest with his phone in hand. “Why”

“He’s hungry?” Subin throws Sejun a look over his phone screen—one that Sejun is very proud to say he does not understand—then drops it on his lap and down to the couch he’s taken over together with his boyfriend. “Just treat him to, like, McDonalds or something, dude”

“Shouldn’t it be something nicer?” Sejun leans back, too—except he doesn’t have a warm and well-endowed boyfriend to lean on, only has his sad sad old rug and the hard edge of the centre table of his tiny living room—gets his plate off his lap and drops it on the floor next to him. “Like, what if he fails me anyway because I only got him McDonalds, what then?”

“Treat him to the fanciest grill and dine” Subin raises a hand into the air, points at Sejun half-assedly. “See how that works out”

“I don’t have any money” and Sejun is absolutely not whining—he’s just despairing and sounding like a kicked dog, alright. “I can’t even treat myself” and he hits at his sad little pasta weakly, to make a point, pout on his face and eyes on his phone screen. “Why did I offer— why did he say yes”

“A stroke of luck?” Seungwoo tries, sits up slightly with head tilted to the side. Subin snorts.

“Don’t think that’s the kind of stroke he wanted to get” with a shit-eating grin, arm dropping over his chest and grey hair falling on his face—and Seungwoo fucking laughs, too, something he at least has the poor mercy to try and hide, puffs of air and laughter behind a tight-lipped smile and amused eyes.

Dear God.

Sejun is going to kill him.

Sejun is going to kill them.

“I wanted” he picks up his plate, resists the urge to throw it at the happy couple like a frisbee as he picks his phone and stands up. “to go swimming with him, actually, how did you know”

Seungwoo laughs so hard he falls over—and he takes Subin with him, so Sejun considers this a win.

“Really, though” Subin has somehow rolled to sit on the floor on the time it takes for Sejun to leave his plate and come back, and Seungwoo’s sitting up on the couch properly like any good gay—legs crossed and fingers played with Subin’s hair as he speaks. “I’m sure he won’t mind whatever?”

“Plus” Subin smacks at Seungwoo’s hand, stretches his arms up—lets them fall to his sides as he looks up at Sejun. “You could still get in like, a quickie stroke if you put your mind to it. Pretty sure he finds you hot too”

“No” Sejun’s half-yelling—but god, Subin— “I’m just getting a point, that’s it, that’s all, I am not—”

“Just a regular stroke?”

“No!”

“Slow stroke?”

“Hyung” Sejun tries to glare—but Seungwoo’s just looking at him with stupid puppy eyes and looking like he’s genuinely wondering if Sejun likes slow strokes in public places.

He does not.

“No strokes. None.” He drops on the couch, pushes back his bangs and falls back—stares at the ceiling as he makes a noise of suffering. “I don’t even know if he’s gonna give me the point, God”

“Eh” Subin shrugs—leans back so his head’s by Seungwoo’s legs, looking up. “You’re still getting a date, at least”

“It’s not a date” Sejun throws him a glare, hands still somewhere by his face. “It’s a bribe”

“Hyung,” Subin meets his glare with one of his own, unamused. “I’m pretty sure he would’ve looked it over even without your begging, you know?”

Sejun can’t really deny that—Seungsik had been saying he’d look it over before agreeing to Sejun’s begging, it’s just that Sejun had been in begging autopilot and wouldn’t shut up—

Which is to say—

“Why did he agree then” back to square one. “Why did he ask me for food”

Subin looks ready to jump him.

“Have you considered” Subin closes his eyes, breathes out a sigh. “that maybe he just wants to go out to eat with you?”

“No” Sejun blinks “he doesn’t”

“Hyung,” Subin straightens up, eyes open and back on Sejun—still unamused, still tired, still done. “I know you’re not the brightest with these things, but”

“Rude,”

“But—” and he playfully hits at Sejun’s leg, gives him a small smile. “Be a little positive here”

“Positive about getting the point?” and Seungwoo laughs at that, looks incredibly amused even as he tries to pretend he’s not hiding a smile behind his hand.

“No, Sejun” Seungwoo pats Sejun’s shoulder—Sejun only sits there, gears turning in his head.

“No point?”

“Not that” and Seungwoo laughs again, shakes Sejun a little bit with kind eyes. “Not the point, Sejun, the date”

____

Eating out with Seungsik while he cries over his missing point is not, will never be, a date. Absolutely not. Not a chance.

He breathes in, drops his phone down on his desk, lets his head drop until his forehead is against cheap wood.

He breathes out.

Dear God, Subin and Seungwoo were right, weren’t they?

Dear God, Sejun.

This is a date.

____

Sejun throws his phone on the bed in a mix of rage and absolute misery.

_____

“Should I even be thinking about what to wear?” It’s the morning of the next day, date rapidly approaching and sending Sejun into gay fear. He’s talking while face up on his bed, mountain of shirts and wrinkled fancy pants throw over him, one too many thoughts about not making a fool of himself in his mind. Subin’s sitting on the floor and against the bed, scrolling through his phone like some cursed gen z and biting at at a poor pen—Seungwoo, on the other hand, is looking through Sejun’s closet, throwing shirts and pants at Sejun’s miserable figure with care. “I mean, like, it’s just supposed to be me begging for a point, but—”

“He’s seen you asleep in class” Subin lowers his phone, throws a glance at Seungwoo and then back at Sejun. “You’re not impressing him”

“It’s never bad to look nice” Seungwoo tries, drops a button up Sejun doesn’t even remembering owning on the bed. “Even if it’s not a romantic night out” he purses his lips, falls to sit on the bed with a hum— “You could always catch his eye even more? Get him to like you”

“He likes him, hyung—” Subin pushes himself up, sits on Seungwoo’s lap without missing a beat. “He likes him after seeing him drool all over his shirt in class”

“I do not drool on—” Subin tosses his phone at Sejun to shut him up. “Hey—”

“I’m talking.” A weak glare as he reaches to take his phone back, slaps at Sejun’s thigh. “He’s seen you begging for a grade, hyung, you’ve like, reached peak low with him”

Sejun can only make a strangled noise in reply, hands going to his face as he tries to ignore the fact that he is very much an absolute fucking idiot.

“You can show him your good spots, though?” as Seungwoo holds Subin closer, hands around his waist and chin on his shoulder. “Make him see you’re not, like—”

“A loser” Subin finishes with a nod—a pensive smile before he shrugs. “I guess that’s true”

“Don’t be mean” Seungwoo tries—even though he’s holding back a laugh and hiding a smile in Subin’s hair. “He’s doing his best, Subinnie”

Sejun throws the piled-up clothes at both of them with a yell—makes sure to leave the nicest things in place, if only to try and make himself seem like less of a mess of a human being later.

(Seungwoo helps him, of course, since, in Subin’s words, Sejun’s too much of a disaster to even dress decently for a date—

And Sejun wants to say that that is absolutely not true and his fashion is very much fine and he looks hot—but, well, maybe he can let Seungwoo dress him up this once.

For the point.

He swears.)

_____

Evening comes way too fast, and now Sejun’s standing like a fool with a huge jacket and a dumb hat on his head by his university’s entrance, hands shoved in his pockets and face red from a mix of the cold and wanting to dig himself a hole to hide.

Seungsik gets there after not very long, almost white hair falling on his face that’s almost hidden by his dumb fucking scarf—

God, does he look cute.

Sejun will not fuck this up.

He needs the point.

“Where do you wanna go?” Sejun blurts out after walking aimlessly for a few minutes, shoulders a little too close and Seungsik’s gaze flying from building to building.

“There’s this nice grill place close-by?” a smile, something cocky as he tilts his head back and looks at Sejun. “If your wallet can afford that, of course”

It cannot.

“Yeah, sure” Sejun nods, stops walking to just look at Seungsik. “I can take a blow, I think” a pause—Sejun blinks. “for the point”

“A blow?” and Seungsik motions for Sejun to follow him, walks towards wherever it is he’s taking Sejun and—god, maybe it’s Sejun’s dick talking but did Seungsik just—

“A blow”

“Would think you’re the one giving” Sejun makes a noise—a choked cough as he skips forward to not fall from tripping on air. “the blow, I mean” and Seungsik smiles, all teasing and soft as he looks back at Sejun. “for the point”

Is this flirting? Sejun’s too gay to know when people are flirting with him, oh my god—

“Oh, we have to turn here, Sejun” and the teasing air is gone as Seungsik grabs at Sejun’s arm to stop him from walking into some random building or into an unknown street—pulls him in the right direction with something much kinder, softer. “Don’t get lost now”

Sejun only nods dumbly—ignores the way Seungsik’s voice makes him want to drop on his knees and actually give a blow if Seungsik were to ask him—

He nearly walks straight into a light post because of thinking too much, only doesn’t because Seungsik pulls his arm again and laughs, amusement clear even as he makes sure Sejun is okay—

Good lord, Sejun’s going to die.

_____

Sejun does not die—in fact, he makes it to whatever small restaurant Seungsik takes him in one piece and very much alive.

They sit at a table and order—and then Seungsik pulls out a folder while they wait, pen in hand as he pulls Sejun’s damn exam out.

God.

His point.

“I looked over your answers” Sejun nods, hands tense on the table and eyes focused on Seungsik. “Can’t really push it up to a perfect score, but”

“Oh” Sejun visibly deflates, head falling to his hands and eyes burning with what might just be dread and maybe even shame— “That’s—that’s okay—”

“I’m not done, silly” with a laugh and, oh my god, Sejun is so gay but also he’s staring death in the face because he’s going to fail but also Seungsik is hot— “You got B+, right?”

Sejun nods, still a cocoon of gay and despair.

“But it’s almost an A, anyway, so” and he jots something down on the paper at the same time their food arrives, but Sejun can’t even think about eating when death is staring him right in the eye. “I can give you a bit more in some questions, and then you’re good”

Sejun raises his head so fast he might’ve nearly pulled a fucking muscle, palms now flat on the table as he looks Seungsik dead in the eye and nearly cries—

“For real?” He reaches out over plates, takes the cuff of Seungsik’s sleeve in desperate hands with a high-pitched laugh. “Like—really?”

“It’s not a bother” Seungsik shrugs, puts down his signature next to the new grade on the exam paper, then puts it back in his folder. “I’ll check with administration tomorrow so it’s all good, yeah?”

“Aa” Seungsik’s an angel—Sejun hasn’t even paid for the food yet, what the fuck— “Yes—Yeah, thank you—thank you so much, holy shit—”

“Stop” Seungsik laughs, short and quiet. “It’s no big deal, I could’ve done this in the classroom, even—”

“I owe you my life”

“You don’t owe me anything, it’s fine—”

“I owe you my firstborn children that will never be born”

“Sejun” and Seungsik’s laughing—amused and open as he puts the folder back in his bag, pulls a plate closer and takes a pair of chopsticks in hand. “It’s fine” and Sejun makes a choked noise—something almost pained as he lets go of Seungsik and slides back to properly sit up.

“Food’s not enough, though—”

“It’s nice food” a nod, sizzling of meat as he pokes it with his chopstick on the grill. “And a date” Seungsik smiles—all coy and pretty—bites on meat with a pleased noise.

Sejun short-circuits.

“Date” Seungsik nods, Sejun gapes—grabs at his food without thinking and shoves it in his mouth because sweet Holy Mary mother of Christ—

“Well, if you want it to be” Sejun does—so he nods, munches on meat because he will not speak and make his own despair even worse— “Because I want it to be, so”

“Why” after Sejun swallows, hands tapping at food and plates as his brain turns—“I like, nearly failed your class—you saw me begging—”

“You’re cute?” Seungsik looks deep in fake thought, eyes wandering around the restaurant before they stop on Sejun’s.

“I was begging”

“I took it to mean you’re dedicated to your studies” another soft smile. “I really would’ve checked it even if you didn’t treat me, though”

Sejun lets his hands rest on the table, looks at nothing on the wooden surface and breathes—

“Then why—” he licks his lips, frowns. “why are we here”

Seungsik’s chopstick hits Sejun right on the nose. Sejun blinks, focuses on Seungsik’s hand, Seungsik’s shirt, Seungsik’s chest—

“You were offering” and he shrugs, taps on the table. “And I felt bad saying no when you were so willing to give me something”

“So,” Sejun’s eyes fly up to Seungsik’s—a second—fly back down to his very interesting chest. “You sneakily asked me on a date?”

“Yes” Seungsik smiles, all self-assured and pretty, and Sejun kind of wants to die. “You’re fun, you know”

Sejun only groans—thinks about the not very nice blow to his wallet brought upon by some kind of twisted up flirting.

Is he happy? Yes.

Is this absolutely up his alley? Yes.

Does he want, in Subin’s words, a quickie? Not here, but yes.

Is he absolutely lost on what he’s supposed to do, now that he knows that Hot Man Seungsik is looking at him—like, really looking, all interested and still very hot? Yes. Very much yes.

How has Sejun ever dated anyone before, Jesus Christ—

“You’re hot” not that, oh god. “You’re really hot, but”

“Thanks?” Sejun’s brain is going into overwork—whatever remains of his gears turning turning as he tries to think about something to say to this that’s smooth and not I’ve been wanting to motorboat your tits for the whole term—

“Can we have another?” Seungsik gives him a quirk up of his eyebrow, Sejun blinks at nothing and bites at his lips and god— “Date—another date, maybe without a blow this time, but—”

“No blow?” to his wallet—Sejun doesn’t know how to say things anymore.

“No—yes—not like that, not to my wallet, yes to my—” and Sejun chokes—words stuck in his throat as he simply drops and hits his forehead right on the table, loud.

A second of silence—Sejun doesn’t dare move.

“You know” and Seungsik’s fucking laughing—words between bubbling breaths and everything shaking as he starts tearing up with hands to his face— “I took you as the kind of guy who liked to be swept off his feet or something” another snicker, Seungsik rubbing at  his eyes with the heel of his palm—“super romantic and old-fashioned, but”

Sejun makes a noise—high-pitched and stupid as he pushes his hair back and sends his hat flying and to the floor—

“I’m a romantic” Seungsik breaks into another fit of laughter—leans down to pick up Sejun’s hat while Sejun tries to function— “I like romantic things”

“Like blows?”

“No!” a pause as he scrambles for words, again— “Well, yes—I do—I do like those, but—”

And then Sejun’s hat is back on his head—Seungsik dropping it in place with kind hands and knocking the words out of Sejun’s everything.

“I’m teasing” and he runs his hand so lightly on Sejun’s hair—runs his fingers through his bangs before pulling away. “We can have another, yeah” a smile “and without an exam as excuse this time, if you want?”

“Yes” Sejun maybe replies way too quickly—way too eager and smiling like a fool—but he’s always been just a little too open like that, and he’s not about to change that now. “I’d like that”

“I’d like that too” Seungsik sounds happy—happy as he rests his cheek on his hand and hums. “I’ll pay next time?”

“We can” Sejun nods while he speaks, grabs the edge of the table with a dumb smile on his face. “go for a stroke next time, if you want”

Seungsik nearly chokes on his meat.

____

(They end up going on a second date— one where Sejun doesn’t make an absolute fool of himself, or at least he thinks so, anyway— one where Sejun pulls on Seungsik’s sleeve with more confidence, drags him into a store he’s been meaning to visit even if he doesn’t buy anything—

One where Seungsik, as a friend, as a boyfriend, takes Sejun’s hand and gives him a kiss—soft and sweet behind a greasy fast-food place in the city.

A kiss on the lips, a whisper of next time—a third date and a fourth, and maybe many more—

And anything else?

They’ll get to it, eventually—they have time, after all.)