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“When did they say they would get here by?” Kai asked, stepping out from the shelter of the concert hall’s entryway and under the awning. Rain poured down in slate gray sheets, deafening and relentless.
Yeonjun had his phone out, the corner of his mouth curled in that dissatisfied half-frown he sometimes wore when things didn’t go the way he needed them to. “Every time I try to schedule a ride, they end up dropping it.”
“I don’t blame them,” Kai said. “I wouldn’t go out in this, either, especially not for a few thousand won.”
“I would,” Yeonjun sighed, probably joking, but then again, maybe not. He was more desperate these days than he let on.
“It’s okay.” Kai placed a hand on his shoulder, and tried to sound upbeat. “You can try to catch a train if you want. I’ll probably wait it out, I don’t want to risk getting my guitar wet.”
The shirt Yeonjun wore was thin, slipping between Kai’s fingers when he turned. “Don’t be dumb, I’m not ditching you.”
He always looked and sounded so resolute. Even now, his face was set, already committed to waiting out the storm with him. Kai had learned a long time ago that he would lose every argument with Yeonjun.
“If you want,” he reluctantly agreed. Slinging his guitar case off his shoulder, he gently set it down on the dry concrete and sat on the edge of the stairs, pouring rain just out of his shoes’ reach.
“You’re not going back in?”
Yeonjun’s hand rested on his hair, warm and familiar. He tucked his bangs behind his ear for him, most likely a mindless gesture, but one Kai wouldn’t mind having intention behind.
He shook his head. “It’s too hot in there. The rain’s kinda neat, anyway.”
“Yeah, I guess you have a point.” Yeonjun’s fingers slipped from his hair to his back as he sat down beside him. They sat side-by-side on the steps for a while just watching the rain. The moment felt rare somehow. Silence didn’t happen between them. They shared space by filling it with words and laughter, just like they had done since they were kids. In a way, Yeonjun had taught him how to laugh. He opened up Kai’s world, showing him new things and not being afraid to fail in the process.
He remembered when Yeonjun had tried to teach him how to ride a bike, except Yeonjun barely knew how to himself at that point, so he fell over on his first demonstration, bike skidding out from under him. He scraped his knees and his palms. Kai would have cried if something like that happened to him, but Yeonjun just sat on the asphalt of their apartment building’s parking lot and laughed.
And instead of giving up, he righted the bike and tried again, making it all the way down the street and back that time.
Yeonjun was eight, and Kai was six, and he had never been so impressed. That was maybe the first time that he made it his goal to be like Yeonjun, who was cooler, and older, and never cried over anything.
Of course, he knew that wasn’t true now. He had seen Yeonjun cry before, but that didn’t make him any less strong in Kai’s opinion. It only made Kai want to be stronger, too.
“Hyung,” he said, so soft his voice almost got lost in the whispering rainfall.
“Mhm?”
“Do you wish you had stayed in school?”
He had been thinking about it for a while.
Yeonjun sighed, placing his hand on Kai’s shoulder now. “I don’t know.” A few beats passed, filled only with the sound of rain hitting pavement, before he sighed again. “That’s not true. I do know. Yeah, I wish I’d stayed. Not to study, I don’t really care about that. I don’t even know what I want to study. But I know my mom is disappointed. I wish I had stayed for her.” Then, he glanced at him, dark eyes washed gray from the thick, overcast sky. “I’m really proud of you, though. I was worried when I dropped out. I didn’t want you to follow my example.”
That, Kai supposed, was the problem with them. He really had considered not going to university at all when Yeonjun chose to drop out at the end of his first year. He wanted to support him and his decision. Foolishly, he thought they could weather the storm together. Kai knew Yeonjun’s mom didn’t take it well, but he understood why he did it. School wasn’t good for him, not really. Yeonjun had been pretty depressed that whole year, and as someone who had seen him in high school, Kai knew why. He couldn’t focus. Not because he didn’t want to, but because his brain didn’t let him. He was hyperactive, and school only punished him for it. Yeonjun was smart, probably one of the smartest people Kai knew, but not in a way that worked for classrooms. And he had seen Yeonjun break down from the frustration of knowing he was capable of getting good grades, but not being able to force himself to sit there and focus.
It seemed like a minor thing, and Yeonjun always treated the issue like it was his own fault, but Kai didn’t really see it that way at all. It had been a problem since middle school, at least as far as Kai could remember, and persisted even now, keeping him from holding a job longer than a couple months.
“It was your choice to make,” Kai responded lightly. “And mine, too. I just worry about you sometimes.”
A small smile touched Yeonjun’s lips. “You don’t ever have to worry about me, Hueningie. I’m okay.”
Yeonjun would make that same promise to him even if his world was collapsing. Just to ensure Kai was happy.
“You’re allowed to tell me when you’re not, you know.”
Yeonjun’s smile faltered for just a moment, and he murmured, “I know.” He turned his head then, gaze fixed on the rain, and Kai’s followed him. The downpour seemed never-ending, the clouds rolled into a charcoal gray mass that showed no signs of moving or dissipating, intent on washing the city with rain until it had nothing left. He could barely see the street a few meters away, although the lights had flickered on in an attempt to combat the haze that had begun to paint itself into an early nightfall. He could hear cars fighting through puddles gathering on the road, tires kicking up water that came back down on the sidewalks, nearly drowned out by the storm overhead.
Kai scooted a little farther back from the steps, turning his body so he faced away from the rain, and pulled his guitar case into his lap. Unzipping it, he carefully slipped his guitar out, pushed the case away so it could rest in his lap instead, and slung the strap over his shoulder. Yeonjun glanced at him, head tilted, a little smile appearing on his face when Kai began to play.
His guitar was still in tune from the show earlier, so it sounded alright as his fingers found the right chords and he strummed a small melody. Something he had picked up from somewhere else, maybe. He couldn’t place the song; it didn’t really matter. He just wanted to play and pass the time, and he knew Yeonjun liked listening.
Kai picked at the strings lightly, not wanting to overshadow the rain, and eventually, the two blended nicely together. He used a pick for shows, but didn’t want to now. He liked the feeling of the strings digging into his fingers, meeting the calluses that he worked for years to build, reminding him of why he started playing guitar in the first place.
His dad taught him when he was a kid, but probably didn’t expect Kai to take to it as strongly as he did. Something about creating music made him feel good, though, even when he was just starting out. At first, he just liked the feeling of accomplishment he got from learning a song, and hearing his favorite melodies played back to him from his own fingers. His friends thought it was cool, and his family always encouraged him to practice. His sisters would sing along. But as he got older, the guitar became more personal to him. He wasn’t great at expressing himself, especially when he first started high school, but playing music gave him an outlet to vent and process whatever he was going through at the time. There was something about putting his emotions into music that felt more satisfying to him than crying, and it was around that time that he started trying to write his own songs. He wasn’t all that good with lyrics -words had never been his strength, and still weren’t- but that wasn’t usually the point. He just wanted to create melodies. In his mind, the song itself should be able to convey the feeling without having any words attached to it.
Yeonjun was good with words. He had written most of the lyrics to the song Kai submitted for his program application. Those weeks leading up to his application held some of the best memories of Kai’s life. He and Yeonjun had essentially claimed one of his music academy’s practice rooms and turned it into their own studio. They worked on chord progressions for hours, until they turned out just the right one, and it became a real song. Yeonjun would sit at the keyboard and listen to Kai experiment with sounds, occasionally playing something short on the keys to give his input, and Kai would play it back to him on the guitar, becoming part of the song.
They snuck in coffee and snacks, and worked until they were exhausted, sometimes just falling asleep on the floor until one of his instructors kicked them out.
Yeonjun worked so hard on Kai’s application with him that he ended up quitting his own job just so he would have the hours free. It was kind of a dumb, reckless decision, especially considering he wasn’t the one even applying, but it was Yeonjun’s, and he stuck by it. More than likely, he was looking for an excuse to quit anyway.
Kai hadn’t actually played that song since he got accepted into his music program. It didn’t really feel complete without Yeonjun. Of course, Kai sang it himself in his audition video, but he thought it sounded better in Yeonjun’s voice.
His fingers readjusted on the frets, and he softly played the melody they had made. It didn’t take Yeonjun long to pick up on what song he had begun to strum. When Kai glanced back, he saw that Yeonjun had turned slightly to watch him, legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees. One of his knees pressed against Kai’s leg. His smile was faint, eyes shining with an emotion Kai learned to recognize in him a long time ago. Pride.
Somehow, Kai made Yeonjun proud. He wasn’t really sure of what. He was a person full of flaws, and Yeonjun knew about every single one of them, but he still looked at him like that.
Kai had grown up wanting to see that look in Yeonjun’s eyes all the time. It motivated him to work harder when he was a kid, and that passion still lingered even as he grew older. The only time he had ever seen Yeonjun disappointed in him was when he got in a fight with his dad, frustrated because it felt like he was pushing him too hard to practice, and broke his first guitar, the one his dad had given him. He said he wanted to stop playing forever, overdramatic the way fourteen-year-olds were, and Yeonjun didn’t take his side.
He said his dad only pushed him so hard because he cared, and because he knew Kai was passionate about it. Yeonjun didn’t tell him he should apologize, but he looked at Kai, and the broken fretboard and busted strings of his guitar, disappointment written all over his face, and said Kai should figure it out on his own.
Kai did end up apologizing. And Yeonjun got him a job at a convenience store he had worked at in the summer so he could buy a replacement.
“I don’t really remember the words,” Kai murmured, even though it wasn’t true.
“That’s okay.” Yeonjun scooted closer and rested his head on Kai’s shoulder, eyes shut, simply listening. “The song doesn’t really need them.”
That wasn’t true, either. Not in Kai’s opinion, at least. He thought the lyrics were beautiful, delicate and distantly about love. Not upbeat, or even happy, really. That’s not how Yeonjun wrote. But they were filled with such a yearning and desperation that Kai remembered feeling jealous when he first read them. He wondered who had made Yeonjun feel like that. Sharp with expressions that were too personal and real to be anything but true, barbed thorns and blooming roses. And when he asked, Yeonjun had just shrugged. “I watched a movie with my mom last night,” he had said. “It gave me some ideas.”
He sang a few of the lines under his breath as he played, purposely messing up a couple words just to get Yeonjun to correct him.
“It’s destined, not determined,” Yeonjun said, exactly like Kai knew he would, and he could feel him chuckling.
“Oh, is it? Wait, how does that part go?”
He started playing those two bars again, and Yeonjun sang the right lyrics, voice melodic and sweet in a way that Kai used to think didn’t suit him. Yeonjun had a rich voice, sort of syrupy, and when they were younger, Kai thought he transformed when he sang. Like he was a different person. It didn’t seem that way to him so much anymore. He was still Yeonjun, even now with his head on Kai’s shoulder, quietly singing the song they had written together almost two years ago while the rain continued to cascade around them.
Kai kept playing, and so Yeonjun sang the whole song. Maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe he had really wanted to all along.
Finally, the song sounded complete. Yeonjun’s voice had been the only thing it was missing, but Kai couldn’t play the song without it. It was maybe the only melody he had ever written that felt empty when he separated it from the lyrics.
When he strummed the final chord, he let it fade out, and the rain carried it back into the city.
Kai tilted his head, letting it rest on top of Yeonjun’s. “Have you ever thought about doing music, hyung?”
“Like you?”
“Mhm.”
Yeonjun gave a faint shake of his head. “No. I don’t feel the same way about it that you do. You’re a musician. An artist. And it’s always kinda been like that. Like you were made to do music. I don’t…” He exhaled, hesitating for a moment before admitting, “I don’t think I was really made to do anything.”
Kai thought of something to say, but it would take more strength than he had to put it into actual words. The silence that stretched between them filled only with rain. He couldn’t let those words be the ones to linger in the air.
“You’re the reason I stuck with it, you know.”
“With what?”
His heart was pounding, but he prayed the drumming of water on pavement would cover the sound. “With music. I wanted to give up. Remember?”
“Just the once. You didn’t really mean it, though.”
“I did.”
He was being serious. If Yeonjun hadn’t motivated him to get his shit together, and if he hadn’t gotten him that job, Kai most likely would have stopped playing. The situation itself wasn’t that dire, not really, but at fourteen, it would have seemed too hard to get himself a new guitar. His dad wouldn’t have replaced his. And he wasn’t self-motivated like Yeonjun, he wouldn’t have gone out searching for a way to make money. He didn’t need to at the time.
But because Yeonjun got him an interview, he didn’t really have a way to say no. It would seem ungrateful. So, he went, and he got the job, and he made enough money to get himself a decent guitar. The one currently laid across his lap. And he kept playing music. It was simple, but it was true. That was just sort of the way life worked.
“I don’t think I would be the same person I am at all today without you, hyung,” he confessed quietly.
“You’re your own person, Kai.”
Maybe. But then again, maybe not. And that wasn’t really a bad thing. Wasn’t that the point of building relationships? Every person you welcomed into your life shaped you in some way, whether it was good or not.
He didn’t mind thinking of himself as Yeonjun’s person. Just like he was his mom’s, or his sister’s, or anyone else, really. Yeonjun had shaped him, even if he never meant to. Being around him changed Kai. He thought Yeonjun brought out the best in him, if he was being honest. And, selfishly, he wished Yeonjun thought that about him, too.
“Sure,” he eventually agreed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I grew up watching you, and wanting to be like you.”
Yeonjun snorted. “Now you’re messing with me, what’s this actually about?”
They didn’t talk like this a lot. Of course Yeonjun thought he was joking around.
“It’s true,” he insisted, although he couldn’t help but laugh a little. It did sound kind of weird to say out loud. “I’m saying it now because I haven’t ever said it.”
“Uh huh,” was all Yeonjun said, clearly not believing him.
Kai elbowed him in the back. “I’m being serious!”
“Ow, okay, I believe you,” he quickly switched attitudes. “I don’t know if that’s really a good thing, though. Why would you want to be like me? You’re doing a hell of a lot better than I am.”
“Well, not to sound like a dick, but I got to watch you mess up and learn what not to do.”
“Wow,” Yeonjun replied in disbelief. “Thanks for that. I’m so glad I could help you out there.”
Kai chuckled. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”
“You’re not really, though.”
“I am!” he protested. “Mostly, at least,” he amended after a second thought. “I think I just wanted to be like you because you were cool. When we were kids, it seemed like you could do anything. You were a lot braver than I was.”
“Brave doesn’t mean smart,” Yeonjun reminded him. “I had no sense of fear. That’s not a good thing.”
“It was a good thing, then,” he argued. “You didn’t really have anything to be afraid of. I didn’t either. But I was scared anyway. Watching you helped me break out of my shell.”
“I broke my arm twice. In one year.”
“Yeah,” Kai acknowledged. “That sucked. I remember being bummed because you couldn’t play basketball after class.”
He felt Yeonjun laugh. “Yeah. That’s why it sucked. Not because I couldn’t write, or dress myself, or anything. But because I couldn’t play basketball with you after school.”
“Oh, well that, too, I guess.”
Kai realized that might have sucked a lot more for Yeonjun than for him, actually. He was ten at the time. He never really thought about it.
“I cried when you went to high school without me.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Yeonjun sounded like he was smiling. “It was cute.”
“Not for me. It was traumatizing. It took me forever to make new friends.”
“You did, though. You’ve never really had a problem making friends. You’re just picky.”
“Yeah, because I have you as a best friend. My standards are high.”
“Oh my god, that’s so-” Yeonjun turned his head in, burying his face in Kai’s shoulder. “Don’t say shit like that, it’s embarrassing.” He could feel his breath, warm and soft against his neck, and for the first time out of the comfort of his own daydreams, Kai kind of wished he could kiss him. Just to know what it felt like.
Yeonjun had dated a few people that Kai knew about. There were probably more, but they never stuck around that long. There was a girl when he was maybe thirteen, and Yeonjun was fifteen. Kai didn’t remember much about her. Just that she was tall and pretty, and she started spending more time with Yeonjun than he did. He remembered not liking her all that much, but not being able to tell Yeonjun why. He knew now, of course, but back then, he just didn’t like that she took up all his time. Then there was a guy a few months later. Yeonjun might have been sixteen by then. He didn’t talk about it a lot -Yeonjun still hadn’t come out as bisexual at that point- but Kai saw them enough to figure out what was going on.
The guy was different from the girl he had gone out with. He was an athlete. Not all that pretty, but he made Yeonjun laugh, and that seemed to matter more. Kai never actually met him. Then there was another guy, then a person he went out with during his first few months at university, and the pattern continued like that. No one ever stayed longer than a few months.
Yeonjun kept most of his relationships lowkey. He didn’t tell Kai any details, usually just mentioning that he was seeing someone, and they left it at that.
Kai didn’t ask why. It wasn’t really any of his business. He sort of wanted it to be his business now, though. He might have for a long time.
Yeonjun had managed to stop laughing, but he kept his head tucked under Kai’s chin, careful not to rest his weight on his guitar, and checked his phone. “I might be able to get us a taxi now.”
“Yeah, is the rain supposed to let up soon?”
“It doesn’t look like it’ll stop, but it should get lighter,” Yeonjun said, scrolling through his weather app. “In an hour,” he realized, sighing.
“Are you that bored, hyung?” Kai teased.
“No, I’m not bored. My ass is sore, though.”
“You want to lay down?” Kai offered. He would put his guitar away so Yeonjun could use his lap.
“No, that’s okay,” Yeonjun declined, and sat up a little straighter. The air Yeonjun left in his absence felt cool and empty. “I want you to play me something else.”
Kai frowned, glancing down at his guitar. “Like what?”
Yeonjun shrugged. “I don’t know. What are you working on lately? Like, outside of your classes.”
“I’ve made a few compositions, but nothing great,” he answered half-heartedly. “I haven’t been feeling very creative. I don’t really have anything to inspire me.”
“You could write a song for today,” Yeonjun suggested. “About being stuck out in the rain after a show with your favorite hyung.”
Kai smiled. “I think that would be a hard feeling to capture in a few chords.”
“You’re allowed to put words in your songs, you know.”
“I’m not good at it, though,” he complained. “I like to make music. Words are hard.”
“But they go together pretty nicely.”
“You should just write lyrics to all my songs.”
Yeonjun seemed amused by the idea. “I’m not all that good with words, either. I think you’d just end up with a disaster on your hands.”
Kai shook his head. “You’re a really good lyricist. You just haven’t tried that much.”
“How do you know I’m good, then?”
“Because the lyrics you have written are beautiful.”
Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “You don’t even remember them, why are you acting like it matters to you all of a sudden?”
Boldly, the honest truth tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to amend it. “I did remember. I just wanted to hear you sing, and I knew you wouldn’t if I said them correctly.”
For once, Yeonjun didn’t have a rebuttal immediately on the tip of his tongue. He tilted his head. “Really?”
Kai could take it back and say he was kidding. But he didn’t want to. “Yeah, really. Why would I make that up?” When Yeonjun still looked skeptical, he pointed out, “Hyung, I’m not that good of a liar.”
Yeonjun relented then, and laughed lightly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That’s sweet, Hueningie. Thanks.”
He nodded, dropping his gaze to his guitar. His fingers plucked at the strings and a few major chords came out, about as timid as he felt. There was a lot he could say. Lingering beneath the surface, for maybe a year or two now, there were so many words he wanted Yeonjun to hear. But he really couldn’t make them come out right. It wasn’t just about music and writing; he couldn’t pick out all the right things to say even when it was just the two of them and nothing else standing in his way.
Today would be perfect. Kai had thought about it before coming to the concert hall earlier. Wouldn’t it be so easy to take Yeonjun out after his show? Yeonjun wouldn’t think twice about it, and then when they were having dinner, Kai could allude to them being on a date, and Yeonjun would laugh and go along with it, and Kai would say he was being serious.
It wouldn’t take that many words.
He was just afraid of what Yeonjun might say in return. Honestly, Kai could take Yeonjun turning him down because he genuinely wasn’t interested. That would be fine. He might have to lick his wounds for a couple days and console his pride, but he felt pretty confident that they could still be friends after.
It was the fear that Yeonjun wouldn’t take him seriously at all that stopped him from ever trying. If he said he wanted to take Yeonjun out, and Yeonjun just laughed and called him cute before changing the subject, Kai knew he’d be frustrated for weeks.
On the plus side, he could probably write a song about it.
“Could you play me the song you closed with tonight?” Yeonjun asked, leaning back, his silhouette framed by the rain.
Kai raised his eyebrows but nodded again. “Yeah, sure.” It was a new song. He wouldn’t say it was his best, but maybe one of his most genuine. Soft and acoustic, he whispered the words more than he sang them. In an ideal world, the lyrics would be perfect. Written by someone more talented than him. But the ones the song did have would do. People always wanted to listen to songs with words. Maybe words made music easier to relate to. For Kai, his songs were personal without any lyrics attached, but maybe that was only because he was the person who wrote them. He knew what the song was about without having to say anything at all. And he felt it in the strings beneath his fingers and the weight of his guitar. He was able to find comfort in even some of his most tragic pieces because the way the guitar’s edge pressed against his bicep felt familiar. His instrument, he supposed, gave his songs meaning. It felt like more of a vocalist than he did, giving voice to emotions Kai would’ve otherwise kept trapped in his throat to suffocate.
He didn’t want to say he wrote this song thinking about Yeonjun, because it wouldn’t technically be true. Kai wrote this song thinking about himself, about a person watching someone they loved keep chasing something just out of reach. Trying and trying so hard until they broke down, unsure of what they were even running after in the first place. Kai would say he wrote it about himself. But he wrote it about himself watching Yeonjun grow up, and eventually give up.
He didn’t want that to be the song he wrote for Yeonjun. He had to write it, more to give his own desperation and melancholy a place to reside, but it wasn’t Yeonjun’s song.
Someday, he would write a song for Yeonjun. And he would play it for him before he played it anywhere else, and he would hope Yeonjun knew that it was his.
It didn’t take Yeonjun long to get a sense for the melody. He hummed along, voice soft but less shy than Kai’s, and eventually he was singing the chorus.
Kai liked the way their voices went together. When Kai was on stage, he knew his voice sounded clear and piercing. His tone was naturally strong; it usually made him overshadow other singers. But Yeonjun’s complemented him in a way no one else’s did. He supposed it was sort of sensual, the way Yeonjun sang. He was made for R&B. His voice had a rich, unique sound to it that Kai had never heard before. But it didn’t sound intentional. It agreed with the way he spoke. And Kai just loved it. He loved the way the two blended. Yeonjun wasn’t a trained singer or anything, but his natural talent was enough to let him pass for one.
When the song reached its end, Kai played a few lagging chords, not yet wanting to hear the silence. His fingers didn’t really need his brain, so he just continued strumming light mindless melodies. Yeonjun returned his attention to the downpour just outside the awning.
“I quit my job,” Yeonjun told the rain. Kai waited for him to say more. “I couldn’t do it anymore. The same thing every day.”
Lately, Yeonjun made a living bartending. Kai was worried about him working nights, but Yeonjun didn’t seem to care. Back in high school, he had worked at a cafe for a while, and he said tending bar was easier than being a barista because he didn’t actually have to be good at making drinks at all. He just had to be charismatic. And while Yeonjun had charisma to spare, Kai didn’t think he would last all that long.
He started in June. It was early September now.
A routine career would never suit him.
Back when they were kids, Yeonjun wanted to be an artist. He went to an art academy for years after class, learning to sketch. He was talented. And then his parents stopped being able to afford it, and he stopped drawing. Yeonjun always had a job in high school, but not so he could have spending money. He wanted to help his family out.
It was when Yeonjun’s family moved out of the building they had grown up in together that Kai realized they were different. He was twelve. The concept of wealth had only just started to become real to him. Money wasn’t something he ever really worried about; his dad was in broadcasting, his mom in accounting, and they were comfortable. From what he remembered, it used to be that way for Yeonjun, too. And then his dad injured his back, and the weight of supporting the family fell on his mom’s shoulders, and things changed.
Things changed between them, too, after that. Yeonjun became more distant, more reserved, and Kai knew he changed as well. They had less in common. There were certain things Kai didn’t know how to talk about with him anymore.
Kai watched Yeonjun now, and there weren’t many traces left of the kid he had grown up with. He sat on the top step, surveying the street, arms stretched out behind him. His hair was dark and straight, the way it had always been, but now it was tucked behind an ear lined with steely-gray hoops, Yeonjun’s eighteenth-birthday present to himself. His brows were sharper now, brown eyes more jaded and piercing. At some point, a mole had appeared under his right eye. It wasn’t there a few years ago, but Kai thought it made him more striking.
His lips were the same, pretty and full. For his birthday this year, Yeonjun had pierced the bottom one. A silver stud glimmered there for now, probably still sensitive, but he had mentioned wanting to switch it out for a hoop to match his ears once it healed fully.
Kai wondered how it felt. If someone had kissed it already.
“Do you have plans?” he asked, although he knew what Yeonjun would say.
“Not really. I just couldn’t go back.” Yeonjun sighed then, more resigned than he had sounded in a long time. “I don’t know what to do. I think I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken,” Kai replied easily, but he hated hearing Yeonjun doubt himself. “If it’s not for you, then it’s as simple as that. You can’t force yourself to do something you hate.”
“Other people do it, though,” Yeonjun pointed out. “There’s no way everyone in the world likes their job. But they still manage to show up and keep it for longer than three months.”
“‘Everyone in the world’' is a pretty broad statement. I’m sure you’re not the only person going through this.”
“Probably not,” he acknowledged. “I just wish I could figure it out. I’m not going to be able to make rent next month if I don’t. But I feel like I’ve tried everything. I have no idea where to look next.”
“You can crash with Beomgyu-hyung and me if you want. You know you’re always welcome.”
He shared a small apartment close to campus with another music major he met during his first year. They clicked. Beomgyu was studying to be a producer, so they could help each other out with assignments. Kai had him to thank for all the songs he’d written that had become finished products over the past two years.
Yeonjun shook his head. “Thanks, but you know I can’t.”
He was too stubborn to accept help even when he really needed it. “I know,” Kai murmured.
The wind had grown louder while they spoke, whistling through trees that lined the city block, and Yeonjun glanced up. Leaves sodden with rain, too heavy to hold their own weight, spiraled to the sidewalk below, and Yeonjun’s gaze traced their path.
“We could perform together," Kai suggested quietly. "You could make some money, and I’d get more experience."
He knew where they could play, and how to get gigs. It’s how he made a living.
"Kai, I told you." Yeonjun sounded frustrated, staring out into the rain. "I’m not a musician."
"You don’t have to commit to it. Not in the way I do. I just think it would be cool to play on stage with you."
“Maybe,” Yeonjun eventually said, but he seemed more exhausted by the idea than anything else. “Hand that over,” he said after another few beats of silence, gesturing for his guitar. Curious, Kai picked it up and held it out for him, thinking Yeonjun was going to play something, but instead he just placed it in its case, latching it shut.
"What are you doing?" Kai asked, watching this all happen with wide eyes.
"I decided I wanted to lay down after all," Yeonjun simply answered.
"Oh." Kai stretched his legs out for him, wondering why he thought Yeonjun would reply with something else. "Okay."
Yeonjun scooted back, laying his head down in Kai’s lap. The weight of him felt warm and comforting. He didn’t usually lean on Kai like this. Typically, it would be Kai using him as a pillow. Yeonjun always came to his shows to support him, and afterwards they would share a taxi, Yeonjun insisting on seeing him home safely. Kai would be too tired to protest, and in the backseat, he usually took a quick nap on Yeonjun’s shoulder. Yeonjun would stroke his hair, and he woke him up in a quiet voice when they got back to Kai’s shared apartment.
Now his hands rested on his stomach, under his thin shirt. Kept tucked away out of the chill, the way he guarded everything.
“Hyung?”
“Hm?”
“Comfortable?”
Yeonjun closed his eyes and smiled. “Mhm. You make a better pillow lately.”
“I got bigger.”
“You’re always getting bigger,” Yeonjun huffed. “That’s enough. You don’t need to get any bigger. I can’t even make you the little spoon on movie nights anymore.”
Kai chuckled. “I’ll be the little spoon next time if you want me to.”
“You said that last week and then wrestled me off the couch when I tried to hug you.”
“I changed my mind. I’m allowed to do that.”
“You promised, though,” he complained.
Kai wanted to brush his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair, but the gesture would seem too tender coming from him. “Come stay at my place tonight. We can watch the new Avengers movie. I’ll be the little spoon.”
Sometimes he worried that Yeonjun spent too much time on his own. He had said himself that he wasn’t always a kind person to live with. But he had lived alone for a while now. The only person for him to be kind to was himself.
Yeonjun blinked up at him, pinky outstretched, holding him to his word. “You promise?”
“I promise,” he affirmed, linking their pinkies like he did when they were kids. “Really this time.”
Anything that made him smile like that. Yeonjun pursed his lips again, though, as a thought crossed his mind. “I don’t wanna inconvenience Beomgyu. It’s your guys’ space.”
“He’s out,” Kai replied easily. “He usually stays with his boyfriend on weekends.”
“Oh,” Yeonjun said. “Okay.”
Kai didn’t ever stay at Yeonjun’s apartment. There wasn’t anything wrong with it, really. It was small, and in a part of the city he didn’t exactly like, but he would have stayed if the place wasn’t weighed down by a frustrated and hopeless energy. He didn’t like walking through the door; it felt sad somehow, and the feeling always lingered even after he left. It clung to Yeonjun. Maybe Yeonjun was the one who brought it there in the first place.
Still, he smiled around him. Kai just hoped Yeonjun didn’t feel like he had to smile for him.
“You’ll stay over, then?”
“Mhm.” Yeonjun nodded, although he wasn’t looking up at him anymore. His gaze was fixed on the rain again. “I miss you.”
“We see each other almost every week.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
To Kai, Yeonjun was his childhood. He was learning how to ride a bike, and playing basketball with scraped knees after class, and hours spent at the skatepark in the summer. He was mint chocolate ice cream and convenience store ramen. He was his favorite smile, his most cherished laugh, and all his best memories. He was falling in love for the first time, and wanting that feeling to stay forever.
How many of Yeonjun’s best memories were of him? Had he ever even thought about it?
Someday, Kai would have the courage to ask him. And he would write a song about that, too.
“Beomgyu-hyung might move out at the end of the semester.”
“To live with his boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
Kai followed his gaze to the point where the rain converged with the sidewalk. “I’m not sure yet.”
“You probably have other friends looking for roommates. I’m sure you’ll find something if you ask around.”
Yeonjun didn’t invite him to stay at his apartment. He knew how Kai felt about it. Kai didn’t want to stay in his apartment. But he wanted Yeonjun to come stay with him.
“I don’t really want someone new moving in,” he admitted. “Beomgyu-hyung and I had each other figured out. It was easy.”
“It’s not forever,” Yeonjun reassured him, finally managing to tear his eyes from the rain to look at Kai again. “Besides, with enough of these gigs under your belt, you’ll probably be able to afford rent on your own pretty soon.”
Kai snorted. “That’s optimistic of you.”
Yeonjun had a confident, shining look in his eyes. “No, I don’t think so. I really think you’re a star, Huening-ah,” he said softly.
He felt his cheeks flush and had to shake his head. “It’s not like that for me. I’m not trying to be a star. I just want to play music.”
“If I’ve learned anything…” Yeonjun reached up and tucked a stray lock of bleached hair behind Kai’s ear. “It’s that we don’t really get to choose when it comes to that kind of stuff.”
“We get to make other choices, though,” Kai replied quietly. “I think you could choose to be anything you wanted, hyung.”
Yeonjun chuckled, but the sound was bitter and evoked more sympathy than anything. “I can’t be anything I try to be.”
“That’s not true. You just haven’t found where you fit yet.”
He sighed, and shut his eyes for a moment. “I think some people just don’t fit, Kai.”
We fit, he wanted to say. You and me, we fit together. We always have. But he knew that this was bigger than that. As much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun how much he cared about him, now wouldn’t be the right time. He had so many other things to worry about. Kai would only be making his life harder.
But he didn’t know what else to say.
“I think we fit together okay.”
Yeonjun’s eyes were warm when he opened them again, and a smile touched his lips. “Yeah, I think so, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Kai replied decidedly, and for some reason, Yeonjun found him endearing.
“Cutie,” Yeonjun mumbled. He reached up and cupped Kai’s cheeks, and Kai let him squeeze them, just liking the way Yeonjun’s face lit up. His hands were warm and soft. Familiar. Kai had been holding them for a long time. Still, he wanted to keep holding them for longer.
He drew them into his own- Yeonjun let him. They fit together, too. Like they had been sculpted similarly, at least in their hands. Kai’s were a little paler. Yeonjun’s nails were a little more pink. But the shape was the same. They had small similarities like that. The big picture was different. But their little details made them compatible.
Yeonjun was looking at their hands, too, and the way they fit together.
“Hey, Kai?” he said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m going to sell my keyboard.”
It was a gift from his parents. One they had given Yeonjun when he said he wanted to learn how to play an instrument after Kai started. They had used it to write songs.
“Don’t,” he sighed.
“I don’t play anymore. And I was never good at it, anyway.”
He was. He just couldn’t ever accept when he had a talent in something. He would rather stop doing that thing entirely than be good at it.
“Fine. I’ll buy it, then.”
Yeonjun squeezed his hands. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re the one being ridiculous,” he shot back stubbornly. “Just keep it. Sell something else.”
“I don’t have anything else.”
“Sell your art.”
“It’s not worth anything.”
“Yes, it is,” Kai insisted, wishing they didn’t have to have this conversation over and over. He just wanted Yeonjun to see what everyone else saw. “You’re a good artist.”
“I’m a fine artist,” he replied with a flat voice. “So are millions of other people.”
Kai dropped his hands. “You’re going to get exhausted if you keep comparing yourself to the entire rest of the world.”
After a moment, Yeonjun relented. “Maybe.” He was already exhausted.
“Just keep your keyboard,” Kai murmured, and Yeonjun didn’t say anything for a stretch of silence that felt like forever.
“I didn’t know it mattered so much to you.”
“Of course it matters.” Kai couldn’t look at him anymore as he spoke, and instead stared out into the gray haze. “We need it to write music.”
“I don’t write music,” Yeonjun sighed, starting to sound exasperated with him.
“You used to.”
“For you.”
“With me.”
“Why is that so important to you? You can write with tons of people these days. And all of those people are more talented and knowledgeable about it than me.”
Frustration swept through him like the rain through swinging street lights. “Because I don’t care about any of that. I could have the opportunity to make music with some of the best songwriters and composers in the world, and I’d still rather do it with you.”
“Then you’d be dumb, and you better not actually turn down any of those opportunities, because it’s going to happen sooner than you think.”
“Yeonjun, just listen for a second,” he burst out, realizing his worst fear was coming true. That horrible awful realization that he would come clean about all of his feelings and Yeonjun would simply refuse to take him seriously. “I don’t care how talented or knowledgeable those people are. It doesn’t matter to me. I like you. I like the way you write. I like how you see the world and turn your perspective into words. I like the way you think about music- it’s not a science, or a perfect formula, or anything. It’s about feelings and art, and all of those things that you are. That’s why I want to make music with you. That’s why I’m being so insistent about it. And I know it’s probably annoying for me to say it over and over again, but I’m not just bringing it up all the time to flatter you or make it sound like I’m doing you a favor, or anything like that. It’s not like that at all. And-”
“Kai, seriously, you don’t have to-”
“No, listen,” he insisted again. “I was trying not to be happy when you said you quit your job. But I am, and it’s selfish, because that means you could work with me instead.”
Yeonjun looked more confused than anything. “Doing what?”
“Performing. Writing. All of it. You- you could move out of your apartment, and take Beomgyu-hyung’s room, and-”
“Kai.” Yeonjun said his name again, sounding delicate and tired, and Kai didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“It would work,” he argued, louder now so Yeonjun wouldn’t cut over him. “It could be really cool. And we’d get to hang out more, and-”
“Kai.” He interrupted more firmly this time, sitting up straight so that Kai had no choice but to listen. “Your dreams aren’t my dreams.”
That wasn’t the part he was so attached to. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing. “They don’t have to be. I’m not asking you to make them. I just don’t know what your dreams are anymore.”
“I don’t have any,” Yeonjun sighed. “That’s the problem. That’s why this idea of yours is never going to work. You’re creative. You have goals and aspirations, and things to daydream about. I feel like I don’t have any of those things anymore. I’m not creative like I used to be.”
Kai saw the way confessing to it tore him apart a little. Yeonjun used to be so proud of his artistry. It used to define him. And now he felt like that part of himself had been lost somewhere along the way. “You feel that way right now,” he agreed softly. “But it’s not going to be like that forever.”
“Yeah, but what if it is?” Yeonjun sounded insecure, and he couldn’t meet Kai’s gaze. “What if I’m just stuck like this?”
Kai wanted to be gentle. But he also knew he needed to be honest. “Nothing’s going to change if you keep looking at it as this static, predetermined thing. That’s not what life is about.”
Yeonjun’s eyes flicked up in resignation, and then out towards the rain. “I hate it when you’re smarter than me, you know.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”
“It seems like you’ve given all of this a lot of thought.”
Kai knew what Yeonjun was saying- he almost always dived headfirst into things without thinking them through. Whatever exhilarated him the most drew him in, and he never second-guessed his choice. But he thought about Yeonjun all the time. And second-guessed himself every step of the way. “I’ve been worried about it lately,” he admitted.
Yeonjun spoke gently when he said, “You don’t have to worry about me, Hueningie.”
The words were familiar. He said it all the time. He might have already said it earlier today. But he didn’t seem to get tired of reassuring him.
“I’m going to anyway,” he replied, simple but honest.
Yeonjun didn’t seem surprised. “I thought you might say that,” he sighed.
Kai rested his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder, looking out into the cascading rain and mumbling, “I’m sorry.” He felt Yeonjun’s delicate fingers in his hair.
“That’s okay,” Yeonjun murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”
When Kai lifted his chin, Yeonjun’s hand wasn’t in his hair anymore. It was cupping his jaw, framed against his cheek, the pressure of his thumb barely present yet somehow more than Kai could stand. His heart raced.
And when Yeonjun kissed him, he couldn’t even move. He sat there frozen, but burning from within. All of his questions, the exhilarating, meaningless ones that kept him up at night, suddenly answered in one motion. Yeonjun’s lips were soft. Softer than his hands. They were kind to him. They kissed him lightly, tenderly, making him feel foolish for ever hesitating.
It took Kai too long to break free from his shock. When he did, Yeonjun was already pulling away. But Kai cupped the back of his neck, held him there and kissed him with the intensity that he deserved. The kiss Kai had wanted to share with him for months.
And Yeonjun didn’t stop him. His most overwhelming fears were assuaged just by the receptiveness of his mouth. Sweet and soft, but not too easy with the subtle dig of his piercing into Kai’s own lip. He felt Yeonjun in the kiss without having to think about it at all. Yeonjun didn’t push him away; he let him in, lips parted, willing to see where Kai would take them.
All he could do was keep kissing him, and hope that Yeonjun understood. Kai felt as though he had been waiting all his life for this moment. Even as his heart beat out of his chest, he wanted to make it right. Yeonjun’s hair felt so nice in his hand, and Yeonjun’s own hand slid from Kai’s cheek to his chest, palm pressed against his heartbeat.
Just under the awning, he could hear the rain pelting against the sidewalk. The sound of it kept them safe. The heavy gray haze made them invisible. A symphony played only for the two of them.
When they eventually parted, there was a moment where they simply sat together, the two of them and the rain. Their breathing added to the orchestra. Kai’s fingers slowly fell from Yeonjun’s hair, and after a moment, his hand moved from his chest.
He missed it in its absence.
“Not fair,” Kai complained breathlessly, although he wore a smile on his face. Everything happened so suddenly. But he didn’t want to show how much it had shaken him. “I was going to kiss you first.”
Yeonjun’s eyes were bright- he looked relieved somehow. “Well, you didn’t, so I win.”
Kai chuckled, his exhilaration bringing laughter to his lips. “Were you trying to beat me to it?”
It was a question asked as a joke, but Yeonjun seemed slightly sheepish as he admitted, “Maybe?”
That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He thought his feelings for Yeonjun were his safest-kept secrets. “Huh? How did you know…?”
“You’re not subtle,” Yeonjun replied with a shrug. He seemed happy. On a more serious note, he added, “Also, you had a reminder pop up on your phone before the show today. I think it said something like ‘Ask Yeonjun out on a date later, you coward.’ Or something like that.”
Upon hearing those words, Kai wanted a chasm to open in the ground and swallow him whole. “Beomgyu-hyung set that,” he realized out loud, mortified. The two of them were just joking around- Beomgyu was berating him for not asking Yeonjun out as usual, and Kai had gotten defensive, saying it would happen. So of course Beomgyu held him to his word, taking his phone and creating a reminder to make sure he would actually go through with it. Kai had always planned to delete the reminder. He should have set another reminder to ensure that actually happened, too, though.
However, his own forgetful tendencies worked in his favor this time. Yeonjun kissed him. Maybe as a result of Yeonjun’s competitive spirit, but Kai honestly didn’t care. It was better than he ever could have imagined. And it felt as though the heavy cloud that had been brewing a storm within him for so long had been lifted; all of his anxiety was unwarranted after all.
“I wanted to write you a song,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks flush. Saying it out loud made it sound like such a silly thing.
Yeonjun laughed, playing with Kai’s hair. Maybe his heart was racing as much as Kai’s. They still sat so close. “That would have been so cheesy, though. Like something straight out of a drama.” His words felt soft and playful against his lips, and Kai kissed him again before he could tease him with anything else. Yeonjun kissed him back, gentle and responsive, and Kai liked the way his hands felt in his hair. He could stay like this with him, in their own gray rainy world, for a long time. “I was scared I got it wrong,” Yeonjun murmured after a couple minutes. “And that you didn’t actually feel that way about me at all.”
Kai caught his gaze and saw the insecurity in his eyes. “Of course I feel that way about you. I thought it was obvious, actually.”
He shook his head. “Not to me. And I didn’t…well, I guess I didn’t want to be the one to ruin our friendship. I like you too much for that.”
Even though Yeonjun always tried hard to smile and hide any of his fears, Kai could tell now how much the anxiety of it had been eating at him. It was the same dilemma he faced every day: They had been friends for so long. And their friendship was more precious than anything else. That was why Kai resolved to stay friends no matter what happened between them if he confessed. Even if Yeonjun had turned him down, Kai would have found a way to bounce back and return to his side as nothing more than what he was before. But Yeonjun took it upon himself to confess first, most likely in an attempt to take the weight and responsibility off Kai’s shoulders.
He was grateful, but at the same time, it felt bittersweet. He wished he could have done the same for Yeonjun, and showed him that he didn’t have to bear the burden of everything on his own. They were a team.
“I would have stayed your friend,” Kai said softly. “No matter what. But I’m happier with this.”
“Really?” Yeonjun’s eyes were bigger than usual when he looked at him, revealing his vulnerability. Kai didn’t often get to see him like that. Usually he was witty and sharp, and nothing ever seemed to get to him. Not in front of Kai at least.
“Yeah.” The word was barely a whisper, nearly lost in the rain. He placed a small kiss on Yeonjun’s soft lips. It still seemed surreal that he could now. “Really.”
Yeonjun sighed, and rested his head on Kai’s shoulder. “Can I confess something to you?”
He had already said so much. More than him.
“Of course.”
“Sometimes, I worry that you’re going to outgrow me.”
He frowned, gazing out into the rain. “What do you mean?”
“I’m older, but you seem to have everything figured out. You do great in school, you can always find work, and you make new friends all the time. You’re talented, and I really think you’re going to become one of the best musicians to come out of Seoul. But you’re still sweet and humble, and more mature than me sometimes. I don’t want to be the thing holding you back.”
It hurt his heart to hear Yeonjun, who had been his role model for so long, now doubting himself in comparison to him. He knew the road he was walking grew harder every day. It had taken a turn somewhere that Yeonjun wasn’t prepared for. And Kai wanted to support him through anything, but Yeonjun didn’t always let him. He understood, though. It was his own battle, between himself and whatever lurked inside that kept deterring him.
All Kai could do was be honest. And be there for whatever Yeonjun needed, when he finally let him in.
“Hyung,” he said softly, running his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair. “You realize that you’ve been my motivation forever, right? There are only two things that are really important to me: Staying true to why I do music, and being a person that you can be proud of. You’ve never ‘held me back’ from anything. I can always run forward because of you.”
“I’m still placing a burden on your shoulders,” Yeonjun murmured.
“Never,” Kai insisted.
“I might not ever catch up to you.”
“We’re different people- we’re going to run at different speeds. I just really want you to be happy.”
It’s all he cared about. His only fear now was that Yeonjun would keep relegating himself to the side and not explore any other opportunities that came his way because he was so scared of failing again. Yeonjun was full of life, and energy, and talent. He had so much to give.
“I’m happy with you,” Yeonjun eventually said in a quiet voice.
Kai kept brushing his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair. “I’m happy with you, too.”
Yeonjun sighed again. After a moment, he asked, “Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to write and perform with me?”
“Yeah, I did.”
The only thing that would make him happier than he was right now was if Yeonjun decided to make music with him.
“Maybe…maybe after I sell some of my stuff, and find another job, we could try it.”
That, too, he understood. It was more important that Yeonjun could be stable on his own before he tried to start anything new with him. “I’d like that. And you know that if you need help, you can always ask me, right?”
“I know,” Yeonjun hummed. “Thanks.” But Kai knew he would never ask him for help unless he had nowhere else to turn. That was okay; they could work on it together. After a few quiet moments, Yeonjun pulled out his phone, and Kai watched over his shoulder as he pulled up the weather forecast. “Looks like the storm should be calming down soon.”
“Finally,” he said in relief, although he was secretly grateful for the small private reprieve the rain had given them. “You wanna check and see if there’s a taxi available?”
“Yeah, I’m looking now.”
As Yeonjun sought cars willing to pick them up in the rain, Kai still had one question left that he needed an answer to. It probably seemed a bit juvenile, but, “So…you and me…”
“Hm? What about us?”
Yeonjun sounded slightly smug as he asked. Kai kind of wanted to elbow him in the side but he also liked that tone of voice on him. He always had. His confidence was something Kai had admired for years, and tried to replicate even as he slowly watched Yeonjun lose some of his own.
“Are we dating now?”
“Really, you’re hitting me with the ‘So, what are we?’ question already?”
“I’m just asking!” He defended himself. “You don’t have to answer.”
“I don’t know, Huening. I’ve never seen you date anyone before. Are you sure you even like boys?” Kai knew Yeonjun was teasing, but the urge to elbow him grew stronger and stronger. He had come out of the womb gay, it wasn’t a secret.
“I’m going to punch you,” Kai informed him sweetly, and Yeonjun laughed. It was such a pretty complement to the rain. The perfect instrumental pairing.
“Kidding, kidding. I’d say we’re dating, except no actual dates have occurred. So…” Yeonjun left the sentence suspended, as if waiting for something.
It took Kai a few moments of silence to figure it out. “Oh, wait, do you want me to take you on a date?” he offered.
Yeonjun sighed, essentially deflating as he slid from Kai’s shoulder to his knee. “Wow, how romantic,” he answered dryly, collapsing on him in disappointment.
“No, no, I mean it!” Kai scrambled, shaking Yeonjun’s arm to pull him out of his dramatics. “Like, seriously, do you want to go on a date with me?”
“‘Like, seriously…’” Yeonjun repeated in disbelief. Kai couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or cry out of frustration.
“Hyung!” he complained. “You’re not even giving me a chance, come on. Please?”
Yeonjun sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Please what?”
Kai took a deep breath so he wouldn’t mess up his words. “Please let me take you on a date.”
Yeonjun just stared at him for a moment, maybe the most intense and piercing eye contact he had ever held. Kai’s heart was racing from nerves even though he couldn’t explain why. He was about to throw up his hands in surrender. And then Yeonjun broke out into a bright smile, laughing to himself. “Oh my god, you’re so cute. Yes, Hueningie, let’s go on a date.”
Relief crashed over him, and he felt himself adopt Yeonjun’s smile. “Okay, good. Cool. Let’s do that.”
He didn’t mind being cute if it made Yeonjun smile like that. Honestly, he probably couldn’t help it even if he wanted to. Yeonjun would find him cute no matter what. And he kind of liked that.
They did manage to call a cab, eventually. It only took Yeonjun another twenty minutes of trying to book rides, and then another fifteen of waiting for them to actually show up. It was cool, though. After a mad dash through the rain to get to the street, they let Kai put his guitar up front, and took them to a restaurant they used to eat at a lot when they were still in high school. Kai knew he looked kind of funny lugging his guitar case into the restaurant with him, but the staff knew them pretty well, so they didn’t ask any questions. He had done it before. The looks of other customers didn’t matter all that much.
When they sat together to talk and eat, things felt the same, but different, too. Yeonjun ordered the iced Americano that he always got, and he teased Kai for ordering pancakes for dinner. They ended up sharing their food like they always did.
It didn’t really feel like a date at all.
At least, not on the surface. But the atmosphere felt different somehow; their jokes changed, and so did the way that Kai looked at Yeonjun. Before, he had never been able to see it. But now he could. It was in Yeonjun’s bright eyes and the smile he wore whenever Kai spoke; he had stopped wanting to be just his friend a long time ago. The way he cared about him had grown into something more. And it felt so right to say that he felt the same way. Maybe they had both been fools.
He didn’t mind so much. He just wished he had said something sooner.
“Oldest pays,” Kai reminded Yeonjun cheerfully when the bill came. That was their usual deal when it came to meals, born from habit more than anything else. Yeonjun’s face went through several emotions- mostly surprise, and then amusement, and he watched him nod in agreement.
“Okay,” Yeonjun said with another nod, picking up the bill. But Kai placed a hand over his.
“Hyung, I’m kidding,” he said softly with a giggle. “My treat.”
Yeonjun just looked at him skeptically.
“I mean it,” he insisted this time. “I would be a pretty bad boyfriend if I asked you on a date and then made you pay, right?”
Yeonjun’s grip on the check loosened, most likely from shock after hearing what he said, and Kai managed to slide it from his fingers, wearing a little grin as he did. “Wow…” he said in disbelief, and even looked slightly impressed. “What a gentleman.”
Upon hearing those words, Kai considered that to be his greatest victory. It would sound so cool when he relayed what he said to Beomgyu later.
“That’s me,” Kai agreed, pulling out his card and leaving it on the edge of the table. “You want anything else, honey?”
“Okay stop there, don’t get too far ahead of yourself.”
Kai laughed, loud enough to attract the attention of a few other tables, but he didn’t care. This was maybe the best day of his life. And when he glanced up, Yeonjun was smiling at him. A slightly different smile than the one Kai was used to seeing on him. Or maybe he just saw his love in a different light now.
“Are you crashing with me later?” Kai asked after their waiter came by to take his card.
“Planning on it,” Yeonjun verified, taking a sip of his iced coffee. “If that’s still okay.” There was a little glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he said, “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, asking to come home with you after the first date.”
Kai felt his face turn red, but he tried to play it cool. “Nah, that’s totally fine with me.”
“Mm, mhm.” Yeonjun nodded. “Your face says otherwise.”
He didn’t want to look embarrassed. But even more than that, he just didn’t want to admit to Yeonjun that his words flustered him. “If it’s just for movies.”
“Just for movies,” he agreed, not looking perturbed in the slightest as he took another drink of his coffee.
“...we could kiss a little, though,” Kai added as a quiet, hasty afterthought. And Yeonjun looked hopelessly endeared by him. That was better than nothing, at least.
“If you want.”
He did. He really, really, really did.
And he found the courage to admit it out loud. “I actually maybe want that more than the movies.”
Yeonjun raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?” Kai nodded. “Hm,” Yeonjun just said, even though he looked pleased with himself. “We’ll see.”
“Ooh, the suspense,” Kai teased him.
“It’s no fun if you know what I’m gonna do all the time.”
“You’re so cute when you’re trying to act all mysterious.”
Yeonjun glared at him. “I’m not cute.”
“No, you’re really cute,” he disagreed. And before Yeonjun could protest further, their waiter reappeared with his card and the receipt. After signing, he tilted his head. “Are you good to go?”
Yeonjun quickly drank the last few sips of his coffee and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Kai got to his feet and slung his guitar case over his back, the weight of it heavy and familiar. They walked out together, side by side, just like always. And when they got outside, the world they stepped into was much calmer and sunnier than the one they had left at the restaurant’s door. As if they had unwittingly entered a little pocket in time, and stepped out into somewhere else entirely.
But it was the same street he knew by heart, and it wasn’t too far from his campus or the apartment he shared with Beomgyu. So, he held out his hand for Yeonjun. “It got so nice out all of a sudden. You want to walk?”
Yeonjun was looking at the sun peeking out from behind gray cloud gauze in wonder. It was near setting now, orange rays blinking between high-rises and the remains of the storm. Everything smelled like fresh rainfall. “Huh,” he remarked. “It did get really nice out. Sure, let’s walk. Then, he glanced at him. “You want me to carry your guitar?”
Kai smiled. He was probably stronger than Yeonjun these days, but old habits died hard. “Nah, I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”
Yeonjun shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And he took Kai’s hand, sweeter than his cool tone when he laced their fingers together.
“Hey, hyung,” Kai said as they walked, sidewalk sure and steady beneath his feet.
“What?”
“I’m still going to write a song for you.”
It only seemed fair to tell him in advance.
Yeonjun squeezed his hand. “Maybe I’ll write one for you, too,” he told him softly.
Kai glanced at him. His brown eyes reflected back the sun, glimmering beautifully in the gathering twilight. Kai’s heart beat faster than the pace his feet set. “You’re not selling your keyboard, then?”
“No,” Yeonjun answered with a shake of his head. “I think I might need it. I’ll sell some of my paintings instead.”
Kai barely had time to pull Yeonjun off into an alley before he was kissing him, tracing over his piercing with his tongue, so full of desire for him that he thought he might burst with it. Fit against the back of a building, in the same streets they had grown up in together, he really thought Yeonjun was the most beautiful person in the world. He didn’t even care that he had his guitar on his back; he would carry any weight for as long as he needed to in order to have Yeonjun eagerly leaning into him as he was now, mouth just as insistent even though Kai had caught him off guard.
But Yeonjun was sweet. He supported Kai’s back with his hands, drawing him closer so they could kiss like this for as long as they wanted.
And when Kai pulled away, all he could do was breathe for a moment with his head pressed to Yeonjun’s. He played with the silky ends of his hair.
“You didn’t even make it to your apartment,” Yeonjun whispered playfully, and Kai smiled, kissing him again quickly.
“Nope,” he agreed. “My bad.”
Yeonjun laughed lightly, and placed another peck on his lips. “Come on, we can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” Kai complained, but kissed him one more time. He just loved the way Yeonjun’s lips felt.
“Because,” Yeonjun placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay, and Kai hoped he couldn’t tell how fast his heart was beating. “Your couch is more comfortable. And we don’t have to worry about people seeing us.”
He couldn’t really argue with that. “Fine,” he conceded with a sigh, but as soon as Yeonjun took his hand away, Kai managed to get one last kiss in. And then he took off, jogging out of the alley and down the street, hearing Yeonjun shouting behind him to come back.
But he knew Yeonjun would chase after him. So, he ran as fast as he comfortably could with his guitar on his back, the sun shining on his face, racing Yeonjun down the same street they used to walk as kids.
The concrete had stayed the same. But the shops changed, and so did the two of them. All things considered, Kai thought they had grown up pretty well. And he hoped they would still walk here together for a long time.