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In retrospect, maybe Kai shouldn’t have been so blindly trusting, though he argues that it turned out well, didn’t it?
The first morning of Kai’s second year of university greets him with rainy skies and a seemingly abandoned cat plushie he almost trips over on his way out of his apartment. He blames not having slept yet for his inane thought process: the plushie seems a little worse for the wear due to the weather, and he’s had plenty of experience with washing plushies before in his state-of-the-art washing machine (that’s what Soobin calls it, anyway), so in it goes with a delicates bag and mild detergent.
By the time he gets back from his only morning class of the week, he almost forgets about the cat plush, barely remembering to move it to the dryer. He doesn’t want it soaking, after all. Except, bizarrely, the plushie seems to be completely dry and very clean. It would be a spotless white if not for its pink cheeks, and Kai, after staying up for more than 48 hours, does not question anything. Maybe it’s made out of quick-drying material. The cat plush is extremely soft and the perfect size for cuddling to sleep, so Molang gets apologetically pushed aside as Kai curls up to sleep with his newest acquisition. As Kai drifts to sleep, he thinks about how odd it is that the plush doesn’t smell like his lavender detergent, but more like the salt of an ocean breeze, like a long-lost home.
Kai wakes up to no less than thirty missed calls and over a hundred messages from his friends. He still feels entirely too sleepy for having slept at least twenty hours and vows never to stay up for two nights again, especially not for Soobin’s charity stream. The sun is starting to rise, but it’s still fairly dark in the room as he stretches and gets up to raid his cupboards for something quick to eat while he waits on delivery. He grabs a granola bar—the first thing he sees—and scrolls through the food delivery app, quickly settling on oden and sushi. He polishes off the rest of the granola bar before starting his morning routine—if he gets back into bed, it’s all over for him. He’d definitely fall back asleep.
His food still hasn’t arrived by the time he finishes showering and brushing his teeth, so he sends a quick text in the group chat letting everyone know he’s fine, sends a voice message to his sisters because they’re picky like that, and leaves a voicemail for his mom. He doesn’t have any assignments he needs to worry about yet, but he still absentmindedly starts warming up on his keyboard. They’re supposed to submit several self-composed songs this year, and he doesn’t tell anyone, but he’s a bit daunted.
When he hears the first “hey”, he thinks it’s his food delivery, but a check outside his door reveals no one. The second “hey” definitely sounds a little bit more exasperated, and Kai swallows nervously as he glances around his empty bedroom. Did he leave his computer on? Or maybe it’s a tab left open on his phone?
“Over here.” Kai nervously follows the sound of the voice to his bed, hand clenching around his phone in his hand when he sees the cat plush sitting suspiciously upright. Did he leave it like that?
“It’s me, I’m the cat.”
Kai narrows his eyes. Was someone playing an elaborate prank on him? He grabs the plush and starts inspecting it for a voice-box.
“W-Wait! Stop, that’s ticklish!”
Kai shivers as he plops the plush back on his bed with his arms crossed. Whatever it was, it sounded way too real.
“I’m not playing a prank on you, okay? I’m really the cat. You snore, by the way.”
Kai’s not sure if he looks more offended or surprised that the cat plush is talking, but evidently he looks more offended because the cat backtracks really quickly and adds, “Not that loudly though. It’s kind of cute actually.”
“Um.” Kai feels a little ridiculous. Look, he loves plushies and all, but only in the capacity of them being soft and cute. A plush coming to life is not very high on his wishlist. “What’s your name?”
“Yeonjun,” the cat plush says after a short pause. Kai ponders shortly on why the name sounds so familiar when his doorbell rings.
“I’ll be right back, Yeonjun-ssi. Don’t...move?”
“I can’t,” is the dry response, and Kai smiles at the unexpected humor. He doesn’t know whether he’s relieved or disappointed when he comes back and sees ‘Yeonjun’ still sitting upright on his bed.
“Do you need to eat?” Kai asks curiously as he starts unpacking. His stomach protests at the thought of having to share food after not eating for an entire day, but he bought enough to have leftovers anyway.
“Not right now,” Yeonjun answers. “...You seem to be taking this in a stride.”
“I was a little weirded out,” Kai says in between mouthfuls of sushi. “But I find it kind of cool now, I guess.”
“I’m glad me being cursed is cool to you,” Yeonjun says, sounding a bit bitter, and Kai guiltily places down his chopsticks.
“Oh,” Kai says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“Forget I said that,” Yeonjun says quickly. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Fuck, I feel terrible, you look like you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, and now you look like you’re about to cry.”
“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t cried since I was 4,” Kai offers. He reaches out to Yeonjun. “Can I hold you? Are you okay with that?” He scrunches his nose. “Wait, did I squish you last night?”
“Uh.” Kai swears it’s not a trick of the light when he sees Yeonjun’s cheeks get darker, like he’s blushing. “That’s fine. In this form, it feels nice.”
Kai doesn’t have to be told twice. Yeonjun is in his arms again in no time, hugged gently to his chest. “You have different forms?”
“I am originally human,” Yeonjun says, and oh, he sounds closer now, his voice wrapping around Kai pleasantly. “I turn back every midnight until 6am. Then I’m like this again.” He sounds frustrated. Without thinking, Kai starts petting him soothingly.
“Like reverse Cinderella,” Kai says before frowning. “Wait, weren’t you sleeping with me last night?”
“Yup. Lost hours of practice,” Yeonjun says. “You wouldn’t let go of me, and I’m pretty sure being in the washing machine tired me out.” Yeonjun vibrates a little in Kai’s arms, as if shivering from the memory. “So I slept. Forgot how good it feels,” he says wistfully. “Since I don’t really need to sleep anymore. Not when I’m like this, anyway.”
Kai squeaks. “W-We slept together?”
“How cute,” Yeonjun coos. “You’ve never cuddled anyone to sleep?”
“I have,” Kai interjects, “I just—I don’t even know what you look like.”
“Shallow,” Yeonjun teases. “Don’t worry, you won’t be disappointed.”
Kai flushes. “What’s that supposed to mean,” he mumbles, placing Yeonjun in his lap so he can eat comfortably.
“It means at midnight, you’ll fall completely for me.”
“You’re even more shameless than Soobin-hyung,” Kai retorts, then realizes something with a start. “How old are you, anyway? Should I be calling you Yeonjunie instead?” Kai squishes the plush’s cheeks.
“I hate that this feels nice,” Yeonjun grumbles. “I’m older than you, brat. What are you, a first-year?”
“Second,” Kai corrects, blowing on the oden soup in an attempt to cool it down a little.
“I was supposed to be graduating last year,” Yeonjun says.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Yeonjun-ssi.” Kai’s frown deepens as he struggles to remember why Yeonjun sounds so familiar to him.
“It’s not your fault. Fucking Ji—” Yeonjun cuts himself off, and when he speaks again, he sounds like he’s sulking. “I don’t think he will, but I probably shouldn’t say anything that would get me cursed harder.”
“How are you supposed to get rid of your curse?” Kai asks carefully. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”
“It’s something ridiculous,” Yeonjun says thinly. “I don’t think he ever plans on letting me go. He’s not a bad guy though.”
“Okay,” Kai says disbelievingly. “How’d you end up here?”
“Jimin sent me,” Yeonjun says, “the god who cursed me. Hey, shouldn’t you be more careful about what you bring inside your apartment?”
“Did you like being rained on?”
“No, but that’s besides the point.” Yeonjun sounds like he’s pouting now. Kai wishes he had a face to put to the voice, Yeonjun sounds like a very expressive person. “You’ll be taken advantage of.”
“Like last night?” Kai asks wryly.
“You wouldn’t let me go! And I didn’t want you to freak out,” Yeonjun adds. “You probably wouldn’t have taken it that well with how tired you were. Maybe you know self-defense and you would have skewered me. I swear I was sleeping the entire time! I’m not a creep.”
“I do know self-defense,” Kai concedes. “I believe you, Yeonjun-ssi. What’s Jimin the god of? Or is he like. The God.”
“Jimin is a god of love,” Yeonjun says, “true, unconditional love. You should go visit his shrine, get some brownie points for me, y’know?”
Kai furrows his brow. “He’s not going to curse me too, is he?”
There’s a silence that feels heavier than it should before Yeonjun responds. “I don’t think so. You look like the type to believe in Disney happy endings.”
Kai doesn’t know what prompts him to share something he usually keeps tucked away tightly, but maybe it’s the exhaustion in Yeonjun’s voice, or maybe he didn’t want Yeonjun to think he’s as one-dimensional as he judged him to be.
“My parents are divorced.”
“Oh.”
“I know love isn’t perfect or easy or even enough, sometimes,” Kai says, “but I’m not going to lie. I do think ‘happy endings’ exist, but we have to work for them. And that’s not something that’s shown on the screen all the time.” Kai tucks his chin between Yeonjun’s fluffy ears. “Yeonjun-ssi, you don’t have faith in love, do you?”
“No,” he says, and then it feels like he cringes. “Sorry Jimin.”
“I think he’s sorry too.”
“...You’re a precocious kid, you know that?”
“You’re two years older than me, Yeonjun-ssi. I can drink, you know.” Kai pouts.
“A baby.” He says it in English, and like he’s used to saying it that way.
“I’ll put you in the bathtub and turn the water on.”
“L-Let’s not get too hasty…”
Kai doesn’t have class until later that night, but Soobin and Taehyun demand his presence in the afternoon to make sure he’s alive. Overdramatic, those two, especially since Soobin slept for as long as he did, maybe even longer. Kai carries Yeonjun around for a quick apartment tour (“pretty cushy for a student,” Yeonjun observes, taking particular interest in a room meant for dance practice that Kai had never gotten around to repurposing) before sitting him in front of his laptop. Apparently Yeonjun can magic his way around the internet or something—one of Jimin’s gifts to keep him from going stir-crazy, Kai supposes.
“You sure you don’t need this for class?” Yeonjun asks for the third time as Kai slings his backpack over his shoulder.
“No, I’m fine, really,” Kai says, and if his smile is a little tight, Yeonjun won’t be able to see it anyway. “See you...later?”
“Yeah. Have fun, kid.”
It’s only on his way out that Kai realizes Yeonjun hasn’t asked for his name.
Midnight almost takes Kai by surprise with how quickly it comes. It’s unusual for Kai to turn down a sleepover date, especially since Kai spends about half of his nights in either Soobin’s or Taehyun’s bed anyway. He makes a flimsy excuse about wanting to work on a song, and they pretend to buy it. Kai’s a terrible liar.
“Text us when you get home,” Taehyun says, hugging him tightly.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Soobin follows up, squeezing his shoulder. Kai is lucky to have them.
“I will, I will. See you tomorrow.”
March is still a little bit chilly, so Kai sets a brisk pace walking home. He tells himself it’s because of that and not because he’s looking forward to Yeonjun. (And even if he was looking forward to Yeonjun, which would be normal for any curious person, it’s only so he can unravel the mystery.)
The first thing Kai notices after he swipes his keyfob and steps inside is that the lights are already on. They’re automatic, so they don’t turn on unless someone is already inside. There are only a few seconds for Kai to process this and what it means before Yeonjun comes into sight and everything comes together.
The door clicks behind Kai.
“You’re Choi Yeonjun,” he says needlessly. Choi Yeonjun, the senior who has been missing since last year. The dance prodigy. Seoul’s rising star who had received so many accolades he had his pick of any studio or company to work for. Choi Yeonjun, who had seemed utterly irreplaceable and unforgettable, until people seemed to do exactly that, Kai included. He had just seemingly faded from existence with no one to remember him, not even his so-called fans. Like a ghost. All those memories came rushing back now, like they’d been locked away without his knowledge. Kai wasn’t able to pick a department his first year, but after hearing that Yeonjun was no longer there, that that pinnacle of obtained perfection no longer guided the dance department, he decided to switch from a mix of performing arts to the vocal track.
Choi Yeonjun was an idol for many. He wasn’t that for Kai. Kai didn’t know him well at all, had only been on campus long enough to watch him for one stage. But that one stage had been enough to sell Yeonjun to him as someone who was painstakingly dedicated to his craft, whose effort spoke volumes through his performance, who had so much love for what he was doing that it was impossible to tear one’s eyes off of him. Kai didn’t think he felt that way towards dance.
The Choi Yeonjun in front of him looks a little different from his memory. The missing year doesn’t do anything to change his face, but his hair is another thing—it was dyed bright pink and had already been fairly past mullet status when Kai last saw him at the performance, where it had been up in a half-ponytail. Choi Yeonjun is…Kai releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. A lot to take in. His hair is so long and dyed so dark it almost looks blue, tied up in a full ponytail now. Kai very deliberately spends as little time as he can looking at the rest of Yeonjun (endless legs. A body that’s kept fit. Fox-like eyes that prove to be too easy to fall into. Very pretty lips. Kai doesn’t stare).
He supposes Yeonjun had a right to be shameless. He is still as gorgeous as Kai remembers, all deadly charisma simmering underneath a sincere exterior. He can feel Yeonjun waiting for his reaction, his full lips curved in a smirk at a contrast with the way he’s holding himself stiffly, as if bracing himself for impact.
Kai, inexplicably, wants to soften him, wants to smooth away the hard edges that seem so out of place on Yeonjun.
“I’m taller than you,” Kai says with a giggle, and Yeonjun’s mouth falls open slightly at the unexpected response.
“Is that really all you have to say, punk?” Still, some of his tension visibly eases. Yeonjun rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks nervous. Why does he look nervous? “What’s your name?”
“Kai Kamal Huening,” Kai answers, his normal spiel at the tip of his tongue, and he wonders why it’s taken Yeonjun this long to ask. “I go by Huening Kai, but you can just call me Kai.”
“Well Kai-ssi,” and Kai blinks at the ironic foreignness of it all, unable to remember the last time anyone has ever called him that, “it seems that you’re stuck with me.” Before Kai can ask what he means, Yeonjun opens his door and thrusts his hand outside—or where it should have gone, if it didn’t seem to press up against an invisible wall.
“Jimin?” Kai asks, because Yeonjun has an odd, pinched look on his face. He finds himself surprised when he’s able to exit his apartment uninhibited, even though he had just walked in not even minutes ago.
“Yeah.”
Kai frowns in concentration as he turns around and presses his hand against Yeonjun’s. Instead of feeling warmth, he feels the invisible barrier. He attempts to wrap his hand around Yeonjun’s wrist instead, but he feels the same repelling force again.
“Oh.” Kai steps back inside. Yeonjun is preventing him from closing the door, an intense look on his face.
“I can cook,” Yeonjun says in a rush. “I can also clean, do laundry, whatever you need me to do. Money isn’t an issue, even if rent looks expensive as hell—”
“You can stay, Yeonjun-ssi. You don’t have to do any of those things.” Yeonjun instinctively moves out of the way when Kai shuts the door, shuts out the chill. “Though cooking and cleaning do sound pretty good.” He smiles. “Let me show you around again.”
Jimin doesn’t answer his calls, and Yeonjun falls into a life of domesticity with Kai. It’s easy to fall into, somehow, and he wonders if this is what the god had envisioned when he dropped him off here. Yeonjun’s schedule is understandably difficult to work around with, but apart from one morning class, the rest of Kai’s lectures fall into the evening hours. It means that most nights Kai stays up for at least part of Yeonjun’s transformation.
Before, he had Jimin for company during his hours spent as a plush. The single thing he looked forward to during his life as a plush other than the six hours of freedom was the fact that a humbled Jimin had agreed to teach him dance while he was confined. He had greedily soaked up all of the techniques and styles Jimin had shown him, thought that maybe if he ended up breaking the curse after all, it would have been worth it, that losing one year of his life to learn from a god was the opportunity of the lifetime.
(He just wishes he had a choice, even though he knows which decision he’d make every time.)
Now he has Kai instead. In the beginning, it’s cute. Kai is so obviously a morning person, and Yeonjun often finds him passed out on the couch waiting for his practice to finish. Yeonjun doesn’t think much of carrying Kai back into his room each time, even if the couch is quite comfortable. Yeonjun spends the better part of two weeks carrying Kai back to his room while the boy adjusts to a later schedule. Sometimes Kai stirs in his arms—the first time being particularly amusing, with Kai squeaking and nearly throwing himself out of Yeonjun’s arms.
“Don’t move around like that, you’re heavier than you look,” Yeonjun jokes.
“Yeonjun-ssi, you could have just woken me up,” Kai says, burying his face in his hands.
“I think we’re close enough for you to call me hyung now,” Yeonjun says as he drops unceremoniously onto his bed, the younger bouncing slightly on his mattress.
“I just met you two days ago,” Kai mumbles, but he tells Yeonjun to be more familiar with him as well.
“Yes, but did you forget we already slept together, Kai-yah?”
Kai had blushed then. He’d been so easy to fluster at the beginning. If Kai only sleepily curls against his chest after that, if his delicate fingers clutch more tightly onto Yeonjun’s shirt, if Yeonjun allows himself a few glimpses of Kai’s sleeping face awash in moonlight as he tucks him in, it’s not something they talk about.
He doesn’t expect Kai’s earnesty. Kai genuinely seems interested in getting to know him. When they debate on ice cream flavors and come to the conclusion that mint chocolate is the best, Kai arrived home later that evening with a gallon to share. It’s a mainstay in the freezer after that.
Speaking of food, Kai’s refrigerator is pitifully stocked. As far as Yeonjun knows, the only things Kai keeps in there is grape juice, tangerines, and kimchi.
“You don’t have anything I can cook with,” Yeonjun says, throwing up his arms in exasperation.
“Oh, you were serious about that?” Kai disappears to his room before reemerging with a card. He tilts his head as he slides it across the counter to Yeonjun. “You said you’re able to control electronics, right? You can order online with this.”
Yeonjun might have cursed under his breath when he picked up the card. A black card. Christ. He never thought he’d see one personally. It makes sense with Kai’s apartment being in the wealthy part of town.
“Wow,” Yeonjun says, unable to stop himself from staring at Kai. His lips twist at the laughable difference in their families—his foster parents only took him in for a monthly check, while Kai’s parents appeared to be healthily involved in his life, even while separated. Yeonjun often hears Kai on the phone with them, always ending his conversations with an ‘I love you.’ Despite himself, he can’t help but feel envious.
Yeonjun is broken out of his thoughts when Kai smiles. It’s a self-deprecating smile, slightly wobbly at the edges, and nothing like how he usually smiles, wide and infectious and disarming. And bright, like the daylight.
Kai looks ashamed.
Yeonjun doesn’t even register that he's walking towards Kai until he’s staring him in the face, and he draws Kai into his arms for their first real hug. Kai is a juxtaposition of reactions—first he freezes, stiff in his arms, then he melts completely, tucking his chin against Yeonjun’s shoulder, hands coming up to grip the back of his sweater, and oh. They fit.
He doesn’t ever want to see Kai smile like that again.
Yeonjun doesn’t know what to make at first. He eventually decides on fried rice because it’s simple and hard to go wrong with. When Kai walks in with the box of groceries, Yeonjun is relieved—he’s looked at Kai’s card for long enough that he’s already memorized the numbers. Kai carries him to the kitchen while he puts everything in the fridge.
“What are you making?” Kai asks before making a face as he takes out the ketchup bottle. “Ew.”
“You don’t like ketchup?” Yeonjun asks, surprised. If he wasn’t in his plush form, he would have smacked a hand against his forehead for forgetting something so important. “What foods don’t you like?”
“I’m fine with most everything,” Kai says smiling back at him. “It’s okay hyung, the fact that you’re doing this at all is already pretty awesome.”
“You’re the one who’s letting me stay here,” Yeonjun mumbles.
Kai pauses. “Well, it works out, since we’ll both be less...lonely?”
Lonely. Right. Kai must be saying it for his benefit, since Yeonjun knows his two best friends by name with how much they talk with each other.
“Come cuddle me then,” Yeonjun says half-jokingly. “You just ditched me on this counter.”
Kai raises his eyebrow as he finishes up the groceries, washing his hands before holding Yeonjun in his arms again. “Wouldn’t want you to get dirty again,” Kai explains, “then I would have to put you back into the washing machine.”
“I will make your life miserable,” Yeonjun threatens, but all that does is make Kai coo at him while squishing his cheeks.
“You’re so cute,” Kai says as he rests his chin between Yeonjun’s fluffy ears as he carries him out the kitchen. They never get around to discussing what Yeonjun is making for dinner.
That night, he makes fried rice with Kai watching in interest.
“This is good,” Yeonjun says as he stuffs another bite of kimchi in his mouth while cooking, “where’d you get this?”
Kai smiles. “My mom.”
“Tell your mom she makes amazing kimchi,” Yeonjun says seriously as he waves his spatula. “It’s the best I’ve ever had.” He pauses. “And to send more, I’ll probably eat it all in two days.”
Kai laughs. “Okay, hyung.”
At some point, Yeonjun must have zoned off because he feels a tug on his ponytail and a mischievous voice repeating, “Noona. Noona. Yeonjun-noona.”
“Brat,” Yeonjun finally says as he snaps out of his daze, “who are you calling noona?”
Kai looks innocently at him. “You weren’t listening.” Yeonjun feels Kai’s fingers slide over his hair one last time before he says, “Doesn’t it fit, kinda?”
Yeonjun smiles wryly. “I guess.”
“It’s pretty,” Kai says before cupping his elbow. Yeonjun almost jumps. “It smells good, can I try a bite?”
“Can’t you concentrate on one thing at a time?” Yeonjun complains halfheartedly as he leans over to root for a spoon. Kai doesn’t let go of his elbow. “Here, jagiya,” Yeonjun teases as he leans in to feed Kai, and he finally feels successful when the younger’s cheeks start to pink, even though he has to look away when Kai licks the remnants of rice off the spoon.
Jimin had said something about this being his last chance to break his curse after seeing Yeonjun do nothing but keep to himself for a year. Yeonjun can guess at what that entails, but there’s something about Kai that makes him almost too bright to even look at. Yeonjun isn’t used to sharing his nights, and the lack of transition is startling.
Kai is just there, without fanfare, like he belongs. Not to the night, but by Yeonjun’s side, shining.
Maybe Yeonjun is just touch starved and in desperate need of social interaction.
Or maybe, when he picks out all the mushrooms from the rice because he noticed that Kai had some of them behind in his plate, Yeonjun is starting to hope.
Jimin still doesn’t answer, but at some point Yeonjun stops expecting him to. There is something satisfying about living with someone, Yeonjun thinks. He doesn’t mind the laundry or cleaning up or cooking since he’s stubborn about earning his keep, but it’s fun to nag Kai about his habits. Kai is messy. He leaves his clothes on the carpet and his towels on the floor. He’s forgetful, so there's alway unwashed dishes and opened containers on the counter. Eventually, Yeonjun reminds him often enough that Kai starts to pick up after himself more, and he’s pleased to see a physical mark of his presence, and maybe he feels less like a ghost after all.
“Hyung,” Kai says as he pokes his head inside the dance studio that Yeonjun has taken over one night. He giggles when Yeonjun turns his head so fast that his ponytail hits him lightly across the face. “Noona.”
“Just get in here and tell me what you want,” Yeonjun says as he peels his hair from his face, wiping some of his sweat off. “I know you watch me sometimes.”
“Then why didn’t you invite me to join?” Kai pouts as he shuts the door behind him. “I don’t think anyone will pass up the chance of watching you dance,” he adds.
Yeonjun raises an eyebrow at his attire. Kai is devastatingly attractive and unfortunately dresses like he has no idea that he is. Yeonjun has never seen him outside of loungewear, and this night is no different, but Kai is wearing sneakers this time.
“Do you want to dance together?” Kai asks, and for the first time in a long time he’s flustered again, stumbling over his words slightly. “It’ll probably be fun, right?” He giggles nervously. “For me, at least.”
“Sure,” Yeonjun says, maybe too quickly, but the way Kai breaks out into a wide smile is so worth it.
Kai’s form is leagues better than what Yeonjun had thought it would be.
“I applied to the dance department too,” Kai explains as he sits down beside Yeonjun, breathing heavily from their first routine. “When you went missing, I realized I was better off quitting if I didn’t have passion for it like you did.” He rests his head on his knees. “Oh my god I’m out of shape.”
Yeonjun thinks about the concentration Kai has when playing his piano or guitar, of the small, half-formed smile on his face. He thinks about Kai whining that he can’t get his lyrics or composition just right, but then throwing himself into his work twice as hard after. He thinks about Kai’s beautiful singing voice that he had been too shy to show in front of Yeonjun before, but found impossible to hide due to the nature of his assignments.
“I think you picked right,” Yeonjun says, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind Kai’s ear affectionately. “You’re doing what you love, now.”
“I missed the chance to call you sunbaenim,” Kai teases. “Yeonjun-sunbaenim. Yeonjun-ssi,” he tries.
“Not Yeonjun-ssi,” Yeonjun says, nose scrunching in distaste.
“Why not?”
Yeonjun shrugs. “Never liked it. It always felt too polite.”
“Yeonjun-ah,” Kai says cheekily, dropping honorifics entirely, “Yeonjunie—”
And then Yeonjun presses Kai against the floor, arms above his head, and leans in close.
“You think you’re so cute, hmm Ning?” Yeonjun wraps his fingers around Kai’s delicate wrists, knows that what will happen next is inevitable because Kai isn’t freezing or squirming away out of his loose hold. He has had plenty of time to admire how beautiful Kai is, enough almost-kisses while cuddling on the couch or cooking in the kitchen or lounging around in Kai’s room to not be entirely unfamiliar with how close he is. But he still looks, because Kai is breathtaking every day but somehow even more with sweat dampening his hair against his face, his gaze holding Yeonjun’s even as his eyes slide over his mouth, then to half-mast as he parts his lips, an invitation.
Yeonjun uses his other hand to cup Kai’s cheek, leans in slowly and waits until Kai meets him halfway, and it’s perfect; they fit. Kai drags him down clumsily, again and again, eagerness making up for his inexperience even as Yeonjun kisses him to the point of breathlessness.
Kai looks a touch dazed when Yeonjun pulls back, though his lips pull into a smirk as he says, “I do think I’m cute, Yeonjun-ssi,” and if Yeonjun has to spend a few more minutes kissing the disrespect out of him, Kai clearly had no complaints.
Jimin still doesn’t answer, but to be honest, Yeonjun has stopped calling. His curse still lingers in the back of his mind, of course it does, but he’s going to break it with his own two hands. Or paws.
He’s so used to spending so much time with Kai in both his forms that he’s reluctant to give him up to classes and his friends, but what they both don’t expect is for his friends to come to him.
“I don’t know,” Kai says frantically as he stuffs Yeonjun underneath his blankets. “They never come over, it’s usually me going to their place but I guess since I’ve been skipping a bit…” Kai trails off guiltily.
“I can’t believe you’re hiding me like a dirty little secret,” Yeonjun says jokingly, only to panic when Kai seems to take him seriously and yanks him out.
“Do you really think that way?” Kai frets even as his bell continues to ring. “I thought you couldn’t…”
“Ning, no, of course not,” he says soothingly. “Jimin’s magic will erase their memory if they manage to find out by accident anyway. Go hang out with your friends. I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you from them.”
“Hyung,” Kai says softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I lo—I’ll be back,” he hastily corrects with a flush on his face before he sprints to his door.
Yeonjun hangs onto Kai’s words, the way he cut himself off. If—if he did, then why was he still in this form?
“What did you do for Jimin to curse you?” Kai slurs slightly, head pillowed against Yeonjun’s shoulder. Yeonjun smiles fondly—of course he would be a lightweight.
“For ‘falsifying declarations of love’ in front of Jimin’s shrine,” Yeonjun says as he tugs on Kai’s earlobe. “Our relationship wasn’t like that, though. Or at least that’s what we agreed on, but apparently something changed for him.”
“Jimin is an as—” Yeonjun quickly covers Kai’s mouth with his hand.
“Don’t,” he says half-jokingly, because it’d be his luck for Jimin to show up now. “He said he was drunk and overreacted,” Yeonjun says, pinching Kai’s nose, “like you right now.” Kai licks his palm petulantly, and Yeonjun can see his pout even before he removes his hand. “He already apologized, but he can’t undo the curse. For a long time I didn’t want to accept it, so I hid myself. ‘Went missing.’ Jimin took care of me during that time,” he explains. “My apartment’s probably still being paid for by him.”
“I wanna see your apartment,” Kai mumbles, tilting his face up for a kiss that Yeonjun gives all too gladly. Then, as if he never said the previous sentence, Kai bulldozes forward when Yeonjun pulls away to get some water for him. “If a god of love curses you, isn’t the way to lift the curse always something like ‘a true love’s first kiss’?”
“You watch too many Disney movies baby,” Yeonjun says, nudging Kai to drink his water. He’s not entirely wrong, not that Yeonjun can do or say anything about it.
“Are you sure nobody else is living here?” Soobin asks suspiciously as he checks his fridge. “Since when did you learn how to cook?”
“I’m learning to,” Kai says, which is not exactly a lie, when he’s not distracted by Yeonjun kissing him against the counter. It’s fun, even if he did accidentally cause Yeonjun to spill a full plate of aglio e olio before. (Kai takes full blame, after all, it’s because he’s so irresistibly handsome that Yeonjun couldn’t take his eyes off of him and puts the plate in the wrong spot, right?)
“There were extra towels in the bathroom when I went earlier,” Taehyun says.
“I haven’t done laundry in a while?”
“These clothes don’t look like yours,” Soobin says from the living room, holding up a leather jacket that is 100% not his. Kai is suddenly never more glad that Yeonjun keeps his shoes in the dance studio.
“I’m trying out a new style,” he offers weakly.
Soobin and Taehyun stand in front of him, arms crossed as they scrutinize him.
“We just need to know if you’re okay, Hueningie,” Soobin finally says as he averts his eyes. “It’s okay if you have a secret lover or whatever, but it’s not causing you to fall behind in classes is it?”
“I don’t have a secret lover,” Kai stammers, and oh god why is he such a terrible fucking liar. “I’m doing fine in my classes, I can show you my grades if you want, mom.” Soobin scrunches his nose in distaste.
Taehyun squeezes his shoulder. “Just wanted to check up on you, Hyuka. It’s rare for you to be gone for so long. Do you want to hang out this weekend?”
Kai nods, feeling guilty and wishing that he knew how to break Yeonjun’s curse sooner so that he could stop lying to his best friends.
“This weekend is good.”
When Kai shoos them out the door right before midnight, he heaves a sigh in relief when it seems like they don’t know any better.
“He’s definitely dating someone,” Taehyun comments.
“Yup.” Soobin nods. “There’s enough food for two in the fridge, the extra towels, the clothes that definitely aren’t his, and not to mention…” Soobin gestures to his neck. “I guess he forgot to cover those up.”
“He doesn’t seem unhappy though,” Taehyun says softly. “I guess we should just wait until he comes clean to us. Do you think it’s maybe because it could be a boyfriend?”
“Maybe,” Soobin echoes.
Jimin comes by while Kai’s friends occupy him. He spooks Yeonjun so badly that he almost moves in his plush form.
“I’m here before you ruin your chances of breaking this curse,” Jimin says as he arrives in a flutter of flower petals. He’d always been a dramatic one. He taps a finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Though with Kai, he’ll always give you chances. You could have broken your curse weeks ago. You can break your curse tomorrow, or in a week, or in 30 years.” Jimin pokes his finger against Yeonjun and where his plushie-heart would be. “The problem is here.”
“Hyung?” Kai calls, alarmed when he hears sniffling. He pulls back his covers to find Yeonjun with his palms pressed against his eyes. “Yeonjun-hyung, what’s wrong?” He gently pries his hands away, wiping away the wetness that gathers by his eyes.
“Jimin came,” Yeonjun says as he looks up at him through glittering eyes.
“Fuck,” Kai says underneath his breath, which makes Yeonjun smile slightly. He props Yeonjun up into sitting position and gathers him in his arms as he rubs his back. “What happened?”
“You love me, Huening Kai.”
Kai wishes he hadn’t stumbled over his words earlier. It’s pointless to deny it.
“Yes,” he breathes, “I love you, Yeonjun-hyung.” He’s glad he’s not looking directly at him, because wasn’t it too fast to feel so much and so strongly for someone else? But he should have known that Yeonjun wouldn’t be the type to judge.
“It’s me,” Yeonjun says through a sob, mostly muffled in Kai’s hoodie. “Jimin said my curse will be broken once my ‘one true love’ reciprocates my feelings,” he continues shakily. “I don’t think I know how to love someone Ning-ah, maybe it’s the way I was brought up, I don’t know…”
Kai presses a light kiss against Yeonjun’s hair, his hyung who was more fragile than he appeared, his hyung who’s always too hard on himself.
“You need to give yourself time, hyung,” Kai says, “stop trying to match my pace. I’ll be here, Yeonjun-hyung. I’ll wait however long it takes.” Kai brushes his thumbs over Yeonjun’s tears, kissing away the remainder of them gently. “I don’t have any doubt that you will, Yeonjun-hyung, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I love you so much.”
Later, Kai will make fun of how hard Yeonjun cries that night, and they try their best to shape it into a fond memory, until there is no longer any pressure to when Yeonjun’s curse breaks at three in the afternoon a month later.
Kai shrieks when he feels Yeonjun’s arms around him, his keyboard clattering loudly to the ground when he spins around to find Yeonjun behind him, lips in a wide grin and eyes slightly wet.
“I was just thinking that I loved seeing you do something you liked so much,” Yeonjun says, and Kai bursts into tears for the first time in more than a decade.
“I knew you would,” Kai says in between kisses, “I believed in you.”