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Cheongsan has the tendency to make very impulsive decisions, never really thinking about the consequences of his actions until they rear their ugly heads and bite him in the ass.
He’s just… He’s always been like this, and he can’t seem to unlearn this habit of his.
Like, right now, where Suhyeok’s saying something he’s not really listening to because his eyes are focused on his lips, his mind wondering what they’d taste like; what they’d feel like. He’s always wondered this, but it’s only made worse ever since he started wearing lip balm, adding a layer of shine to his lips.
(“My lips are dry and cracked, and it’s quite the bother,” he had complained. He complained several more times after that, like Cheongsan hadn’t heard him the first time; like he wasn’t blatantly ignoring him, and Cheongsan gave in and bought him a pot of lip balm after the fifth time he whined about it, just so he would shut up.
Now he regrets his decision, very much.)
He feels a pinch on his cheek and he winces, eyes snapping upwards to meet Suhyeok’s. “What was that for?” he grumps, rubbing at his cheek.
“Were even you listening to me?” Suhyeok questions, raising a brow and cocking his head to the side.
“Yeah,” he swiftly lies, without so much of a stutter. “Of course I was.”
Suhyeok eyes him sceptically. “Okay, so repeat back to me what I was saying.”
“I… You were saying something about…” He loses his train of thoughts when Suhyeok scoots closer to him, causing him to move back until his back is pressing against the arm of the couch. Their current proximity is making it so hard for him to think straight. “Uh, what are you doing?” he asks, tensing, hoping the uptick of panic doesn’t register in his voice.
“Trying to understand what you’re saying because I couldn’t exactly hear you,” Suhyeok says, leaning even closer, an almost knowing smile on his lips, like he knows what’s he doing to Cheongsan. (This is so unfair. At this point, this should be considered as a personal attack.) “Continue, please. What’d I say?”
“Something…” He racks his brain, trying to find something that could be plausible enough, all the while feeling the heat radiating off of Suhyeok in waves. Jesus Christ, he’s so close. Way too close. “Something about solar energy?” he finally offers, a sigh of defeat leaving him.
Suhyeok whistles, lowly. “Not even close. You weren’t listening,” he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment, bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout, and Cheongsan finds his eyes being drawn towards his lips again, his curiousity at its peak by now. “Was I not engaging enough for you?” he teases, but all Cheongsan can think about is how nice his lips look; how badly he wants to kiss him. “I guess you weren’t. It’s fine, I can repeat myself—”
Without thinking (because thinking leads to hesitation so poor decisions doesn’t get made as a result), Cheongsan reaches out for him; cups both sides of his neck and pulls him down, slotting their lips together, cutting him right off, eyes closed.
Three, two, one.
When he slowly leans his head back to look at Suhyeok, he sees him staring back at him, like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and mouth gaping slightly. Their faces are mere inches away from each other’s, and neither one of them is doing anything to increase that distance. He could feel Suhyeok’s breath on his lips and Cheongsan swallows down the urge to surge forward again. “Wh—”
“You talk too much,” Cheongsan says quietly, lips still tingling from the chaste kiss. His brows pull into a furrow as he swipes his thumb across Suhyeok’s lower lip, feeling the other's breath ghosting his finger on the exhale. The soft noise this small gesture draws from Suhyeok would have him keeling over if he was standing. “And I don’t know why, but it makes me want to kiss you. Every single damn time.” His eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes again, and by god, how much more brazen can he get? “It’s like— it’s like I can’t focus on anything else, can’t think properly, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me because I’ve been feeling this way for so fucking long and I—”
And, well, that’s all he gets out before Suhyeok’s closing the gap between them once again, pressing a hand to the nape of his neck. A muffled noise sounds at the back of his throat when Suhyeok presses him against the arm of the couch, his own arms coming up to wrap around his neck to pull him closer. His stomach jolts in anticipation and longing. He’s not sure what this means — it could mean anything, from an “I’ve wanted to kiss you for god knows how long, too” to a probable “I like you”, but those thoughts are pushed away as he feels Suhyeok’s tongue gliding across the seam of his lips, teeth biting down gently on his lower lip in a tantalising manner. It elicits a strangled gasp from Cheongsan, and Suhyeok uses this chance to slip his tongue inside, eager with his exploration. His arms tighten around Suhyeok’s neck, heart racing in his chest.
This feels like something he should have been doing all along, instead of staring at him and daydreaming about what his lips would taste like, and how they’d feel pressed against his own (how they’d feel pressed against his neck, or anywhere below that point), because this — this surpasses both his expectations and his imagination. He’s been missing out due to his own hesitancy, but no longer is that the case — not when Suhyeok has him pressed into the couch while stealing his breath with a (literally and figuratively speaking) sweet, sweet kiss, while he arches up into him.
(He tastes something like peaches, and Cheongsan doesn’t even like peaches but he thinks he can get on board with it after this.)
He’s in a bit of a daze, clarity fuzzing and blurring at the edges, until he feels Suhyeok’s hands slip under his shirt, the heat of his palms searing against his skin. His eyes fly open almost immediately, suddenly hyperaware of everything that’s happening as he’s brought right back to reality; like he’s snapped out of a trance of some sort. Clarity comes hitting like a train as he inhales sharply through his nose, and, placing his palms on his chest, he forcefully pushes him away.
What the hell was any of that? And did Suhyeok just reciprocate with a second kiss? And so eagerly, too.
What is happening?
Suhyeok’s widened eyes follow Cheongsan, watching him sit up and scramble off the couch, putting as much distance between them as possible. Cheongsan sees the red flush on his cheeks, his lips a light, reddened swell, but he tries paying it no mind as he backs away. “Wait, Cheongsan—”
“Sorry, I, um— I have an assignment I have to work on,” he mutters in the most unconvincing way possible. Then, he’s whirling around and legging it to his room, leaving him on the couch.
He makes impulsive decisions, and apparently kissing Suhyeok isn’t beyond those decisions.
(He regrets his impulsive decisions, but the result of this doesn't feel like regret. It’s more like confusion, and, well he doesn’t like being confused.)
He hates parties.
Been to a few, and all of them ended up with him going home with a raging headache, the mild need for a tablet to calm said headache, and the desperate need for fresh air before he positively suffocates and dies in a room full of unaware idiots.
He hates parties, yet he allows Gyeongsu to drag him to almost each one, weak protests on the tip of his tongue. He just can’t say no to this guy, which is something he swears he will work on one day. (There’s also another reason he’s here for, with that reason being Suhyeok, but no one needs to know that.)
“I honestly don’t know why you like parties so much,” Cheongsan grumbles as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the passenger side of the car.
“I don’t know why you hate them so much,” Gyeongsu says, sounding scandalised, as he always does whenever Cheongsan so much as hints at his dislike for huge crowds paired with loud music, with some of these people not knowing what personal hygiene means at their fine age.
He doesn’t bother explaining himself for the hundredth time as he follows him into someone’s house (he has no clue who’s hosting this party, but all he knows is he’s sticking next to Gyeongsu, lest any trouble come his way).
They find their group of friends crowded around in the kitchen area, red solo cups scattered across the countertop, and Cheongsan’s already feeling a little harassed with the sheer amount of people he had to weave through to get here. He feels an arm wrap around his shoulders, and he looks over to see Daesu, who’s looking pretty gone already. It’s not even considered late yet, so for him to get buzzed this early? Yeah, he's definitely not making it through the night.
“You’ve made it!” he says with a dopey grin, leaning half of his weight against him, and Cheongsan offers a weak smile, but it probably looks more like a reluctant grimace. He tries to subtly move his head away, just so he doesn’t have to subject himself to the smell of alcohol on his breath.
“Didn’t really have a choice in the matter,” he says as Gyeongsu shoves a cup into his hand, filled with alcohol, telling him to drink up. He looks down at it sceptically.
One thing he doesn’t do is drink anything from these parties, but it’s probably going to be a long night ahead before he can escape, so he thanks him, brings the cup to his lips and takes a tentative sip of it. It’s not pleasant, with the way it burns down his throat, but he tilts his head back and drinks more, anyway.
He’ll get used to it.
Maybe.
As he holds the cup in one hand, trying not to let the contents spill as Daesu sways against him, while blabbering on about some university society he recently joined, Cheongsan’s eyes wander around the room, trying to find a certain someone.
Usually, Suhyeok would be here with them; aside from them being flatmates, they’re pretty much best friends, never one without the other. (He probably fucked that up when he completely crossed the line that day, but he tries not to think about it too much.)
Either way, he’s finally worked up the resolve to talk to him about said day; see where things can go from here. It’s not like he can avoid him forever, but it's just his luck that he’s nowhere to be found when he’s finally ready to talk to him.
Is he even at the party? He’s not usually one who misses out on such occasions.
“Hey, um, I’ll be right back,” he interrupts just as Daesu launches into a mini tangent about one of the executives managing the society, brows furrowed in a show of great disdain.
“Oh?” Daesu says, sounding a little disappointed as Cheongsan slips out from under his arm and away from him. He considers telling Gyeongsu in case he gets worried, but decides not to when he sees him deep in conversation with some guy he sat next to once during one of his lectures.
“Sorry,” he apologises again, paired with an unapologetic grin, before he sets off, giving himself little to no time in bracing for the crowd he has to wade through. He ends up on the second level of the house half an hour later (this house is fucking big, Jesus Christ almighty), walking past a couple groping each other by the railing. For a fleeting second, he thinks how unsafe that is — what if they lean too far and tip over or something? — when he finds himself in a smaller living room than the one downstairs, with fewer people, carpet instead of marble flooring beneath his shoes.
It’s quieter up here, the music downstairs feeling like it’s a fair distant away. Unfamiliar faces blur past as he continues to make his way through the dimly lit space (what is with parties and the lack of lighting?), until he feels a hand wrap around his elbow, jerking him back. He whips his head around, eyes landing on Onjo. His eyes shift to the person next to her, and he sees Isak standing next to her. She gives him a smile and a wave, and he smiles briefly back at her. It looks like they were mid-conversation before Cheongsan accidentally interrupted.
So this is where they’ve been all along. They could probably forgive him for not thinking about where they might have been when he had Suhyeok occupying all corners of his mind.
“Cheongsan!” Onjo says, a wide smile on her face. “I thought you weren’t coming?”
“Gyeongsu forced me to come, as always,” he grumbles, though he sounds more affectionate than annoyed, as she lets go of his arm. “Why aren't you guys with the others?” he asks, referring to the group downstairs, probably still huddled up in the kitchen. He thinks back to Daesu and feels the small amount of guilt finally catching up to him for leaving him mid-rant.
“Oh, it was too loud down there and Isak said she wanted to go somewhere quieter.”
Cheongsan nods, leaning against the wall, taking a sip from his cup, crinkling his nose as the liquor hits the back of his throat. “Yeah, environments like these aren’t really for me,” he says, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right. He glances around, briefly. “Actually, I was— did you guys see…” he trails off, question left unfinished as he finally spots him.
“See who?” Onjo prompts.
Ignoring her, Cheongsan leans away from the wall, standing up straighter, his grip tightening around his cup. He doesn’t know how the hell he missed him, or maybe he wasn’t there before he arrived, but there he is, standing a few feet away from them, with some girl pressed up against him, arms slung around his neck, her lips unmistakably pressed against his.
Something vile burns in the pit of his stomach, his throat constricting, his eyes blooming wider than before. He feels a painful jolt somewhere inside of him, a feeling akin to being punched in the gut.
Oh.
Okay.
So this is how it goes.
The air grows warmer around him, and the need for fresh air becomes greater, the noises around him growing fainter.
He needs to get out of here, stat, or he runs the risk of throwing up on the lush carpet beneath him, and not because of whatever’s in the red cup he holds.
Suhyeok’s eyes flicker up towards where they stand and Cheongsan swears their eyes lock for a second, but he’s spinning away from them before he could ascertain that, heart racing in his chest but for an entirely different reason this time around. “I just realised I have to go,” he manages to croak out, shoving the solo cup into Onjo’s hand. “Enjoy this for me.”
Then, without waiting for an answer, he heads downstairs (he swears he hears a faint “Shit— Cheongsan, wait!” in the background but he chalks it up to his imagination), and finds Gyeongsu somewhere in the living room, talking animatedly with Woojin. “Su,” he says, grabbing him by the elbow and garnering both his and Woojin’s attention.
Gyeongsu turns to him, a huge but woozy grin on his face. “Oh, hey! Where’d you—”
“I need to go. I don’t— I don’t feel too well.”
Gyeongsu furrows his brows in concern, fingers brushing his arm as he tries to grab a hold of him. “Are you okay? I can drive you home if you—”
“No need,” Cheongsan rushes, glancing down at his cup and seeing almost all the liquor gone. Yeah, definitely not the best idea. Probably would be the worst one yet if he allowed that to happen. “You should call a cab later on, or have someone else drive you, okay? Pick your car up later, you're not in the condition to drive. I’ll take the bus. It’s still early.” He squeezes around his elbow, hoping it’s a reassuring enough gesture. “I’ll be fine. Just a slight headache is all.”
Gyeongsu shakes his head, already ready to leave Woojin’s side. “Cheongsan, I—”
“You’ve drunk too much,” Cheongsan says firmly, silencing him, then offers a weary smile. “I’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Don’t worry about me and enjoy yourself. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Okay,” Gyeongsu says, relenting, but he doesn’t look too happy about it. “Text me the second you step inside your home, okay? Get home safely, or so god help me.”
“I will,” Cheongsan reassures, turning to Woojin. “See you later,” he says, earning a quick grin and a red cup raised in his direction from the other boy.
As he makes his way to the bus stop without a glance back, his resolve to talk to Suhyeok comes crumbling down to his feet.
The air may be frigid out here even with his jacket on, but at least it feels better than being trapped back there, in that bothersome heat, with a sight like that.
It’s that time of the year again: exams season.
And god if Cheongsan isn’t irritated with every little inconvenient thing which happens to him, then it’s not really exams season, is it? Acting like the world has it out for him; yeah, it’s definitely not exams season if he doesn’t feel this particular type of way.
“Yeah, no, I’m probably going to fail this elective,” he grumbles into the phone as he unlocks the door to his and Suhyeok’s flat. “Apparently he’s a strict marker and the concepts are going right over my head and no matter how much I try to study for it, I just don’t fucking understand. I’ve asked questions and everything, but maybe I’m not asking the right kind because I’m left even more confused than before. Anyway, I’ve long since given up. I’m probably going to wing it.”
“You’re going to bullshit the exam?” Gyeongsu questions, amusedly. “You do realise that’s half of your course weighting, right?”
“What choice do I have at this point? I’m useless with this subject,” he complains, stepping into the flat and closing the door behind him. “The lecture recordings aren’t helping, either, and I just want to wither away and die whenever I have to attend the tutorials. It sucks ass.” He sighs, toeing his shoes off and placing them neatly on the shoe rack propped up against the wall in the hallway. “I should have dropped it before the census period,” he grunts, “and picked another subject aligned with my interests. I don’t know how anyone could suggest this subject when asked for a subject which would give you easy marks.”
“Have you considered maybe you’re just, I don’t know, stupid?” Gyeongsu quips, and Cheongsan rolls his eyes, a biting remark balancing on the tip of his tongue, when he hears a dog barking in the background. “Oh my god, my dog’s at it again,” he groans. “Fuck’s sake, I can’t get a day of peace around here. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah? Good luck with your elective!”
“O—” The beeping tone which tells him he’s been hung up on sounds in his ear, and he pulls his phone away from his ear with a scowl, staring at his screen and feeling highly scandalised. “What a dick,” he mutters, bristling. “Always so quick with hanging up on me.” Shaking his head, he makes a beeline for his room, dumps his bag onto his chair, then makes his way to the living room, situated just next to the kitchenette.
His exam for the subject he was just complaining about is happening at the end of next week, so he has plenty of time to chill out until then, since he’s reached the point of not caring about whether he’s going to bomb it. He can study for his other courses later tonight. He grabs the remote on the coffee table and plops down on the couch, sinking into the comforts of it. A small amount of relaxation is a must at this point. As he’s about to turn on the television, he hears Suhyeok’s voice drifting towards him. “Dude.”
He looks over towards the kitchen and sees him standing at the counter, the lower half of his body hidden behind the counter. Suhyeok nods at him in greeting. “Hey,” Cheongsan greets back, unenthused.
They haven’t really been on speaking terms these days, mostly because Cheongsan’s not willing to engage in a conversation with him for… Reasons. Actually, truth be told, he’s been avoiding him. Again, even though he had made the resolve to talk to him last week. Though, his efforts to psych himself up have all gone to naught after that shit show of a party he attended; he partially blames Gyeongsu for making him attend. It’s been two weeks since they’ve actually spoken properly with each other, and most of the conversations they did have — especially in the last week or so — which were all prompted by Suhyeok, had shown his unwillingness to engage with him. Suhyeok doesn’t seem like he’s ready to give up on speaking to him, though, no matter how unresponsive he has been; no matter how one-sided communication has been between them. “Didn’t see you there,” he adds, just to be polite, but it comes out a little snappish.
“You haven’t seen me for a week with all the ignoring you’ve been doing,” Suhyeok says, lightheartedly, as Cheongsan turns on the television. He hears the snapping of elastic bands and the crinkling of plastic, and he looks over towards him once again in curiousity, eyeing whatever it is he has his hand shoved into, until he sees the striking red background and the multitude of colours intertwined seamlessly in an upward curve, circular objects painted on the rainbow road. He pauses for a second.
Is that…?
He clenches his fist, discarding the remote to the side.
Oh no he fucking did not.
Without saying another word, he shoots up from the couch and storms over to him, rounding the counter and snatching the pack of Skittles from his hand. “What the absolute fuck is this?” is the first thing flying out of his mouth in an irritated hiss, his eyes flickering up to meet Suhyeok’s clueless ones. “Why the fuck are you eating my stuff?” he questions, furiously, taking a look into the red packet and seeing almost all the candied sweets gone. “I bought this last night, are you kidding me?!” he squawks indignantly, glaring up at Suhyeok.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Suhyeok says, but he doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic, if the smile on his face is anything to go by. He sounds smug, if anything, and it makes Cheongsan want to—
Stop right there. Don’t even think about it. Now's not the fucking time.
“It was sitting out here, so I thought it would be fine if I took some, since we do this all the time.”
“It’s not fine. Just because we do this all the time — which, mind you, we fucking don’t, so I don’t know where you got that from — doesn’t mean you can just take my stuff without asking for permission. This was supposed to be my stress snack, you fucking asshole, and now you’ve gobbled it all like some hungry raccoon. Do I need to label what’s mine, so you’d stop acting like they’re free real estate?” he questions, flailing an arm around. If that doesn’t get his point across then surely it at least gets his feelings of irritation across.
Suhyeok’s shoulder rises and falls in a subtle shrug, which infuriates him even more. “I mean, there’s still some left,” he says, trying to take a peek into the packet, but Cheongsan’s glare is enough to halt him and have him lean back, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll buy you a truckload of them when I get my pay-check from work,” he says, trying to get past him but Cheongsan quickly grabs a hold of his wrist, preventing him from leaving.
“It’s not about that. It’s about you never asking for my permission, because you think it’s okay to do whatever the hell you want. You’ve always been like this,” he spits, dumping the bag of almost-empty Skittles onto the counter. “And I’m tired. I want out of this place.”
Suhyeok sighs, shaking his hand off of him. “It’s just Skittles,” he says patiently, turning to face him.
“It’s not just Skittles,” Cheongsan retorts.
Suhyeok considers him for a moment, corner of his lip tucked in. “No, maybe not, but this isn’t about the Skittles though, is it?” he asks, voice lowering slightly.
Breath hitching on the inhale, Cheongsan folds his arms over his chest in his usual guarded way whenever he starts feeling defensive. “Of course it is,” he says, eyes flickering away from him.
“It’s not.”
“…Well then, what else would this be about? Care to entertain me?” he questions, quirking a brow. He blinks and immediately falters when Suhyeok takes a step closer to him, forcing him to step back, then another, then another, eventually trapping him in place between his arms, his back pressing against the kitchen counter. The edge digs into the small of his back as he leans back when Suhyeok leans in, hands splayed on either side of him on the counter. He swallows, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips, then back up again; he could already taste the faint peach of his lip balm and he has to take a deep breath in, willing his heart to calm down. “Fuck off, what— what do you think you’re doing?” he questions, trying to sound firm, but it comes out meek and wavering instead.
Suhyeok’s gaze hardens. “You’ve been acting like I’ve fucked you over this entire week. This isn’t about the Skittles. It’s about you seeing me kissing that girl back at the party, isn’t it?”
Cheongsan shakes his head, but the furrow to his brows probably gives him away. So he was right; Suhyeok did see him that night. Their eyes did lock. “No clue what you’re talking about,” he mutters, shoving at his chest. “Piss off.”
“Just admit it. You’re angry, because that,” he says, unfazed and unbudging, “should have been you. You’re mad because I’m out here kissing other people and not you, even though it was you who started distancing yourself from me after we kissed two weeks ago. You can’t have it all, Cheongsan, not when you’re being like this. We can’t do this all on your terms.”
Cheongsan clenches his jaw. “I—”
“Speaking of which, I think we need a take two,” Suhyeok says, calmly.
His heart leaps into his throat. “T-Take two?” he stutters, the bad-tempered attitude he had going just a minute ago now morphing into nervousness. “I’m not— I don’t want to do a take two with you,” he says, but his actions betray him as his fingers sink into the front of Suhyeok’s shirt. There’s a triumphant smile crossing Suhyeok’s face, like he knows he’s got him where he wants him to be; like he’s won, and it annoys him so fucking much (because he has. He’s won. And he hates how weak he is for him). His eyes unwillingly flicker to his lips, then back up again.
Suhyeok takes that as his permission to close the gap between them, soft lips upon his in a mere second. Cheongsan takes a moment (three, two, one) before his hands interlock behind his neck, pulling him closer, pushing his body against his as he kisses back in an unrestrained manner, heart thumping so loudly in his chest and in his ears he wonders if Suhyeok can hear it, then realising he doesn’t care if he can hear it. Let the whole fucking world know, for all he cares.
While he can’t taste the rainbow, he can taste the lingering sweetness, the artificial peachy tang of his lip balm, which is really messing with his head; he audibly sighs into Suhyeok’s mouth, melting against him once more, not even realising he’s missed this until this very moment. Suhyeok’s arms wrap around his waist, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss. It’s familiar, the way Suhyeok’s lips move against his, but it’s also different, because Suhyeok’s kissing him languidly unlike the first kiss they had shared, like he’s in no rush to get this over with; like Suhyeok’s taking his time to savour him and familiarise himself with him.
When Cheongsan pulls away, Suhyeok’s staring at him, breaths coming out in short puffs and fanning across his flushed cheeks. His lips are a kiss-bitten colour — strawberry red, and so fucking inviting; even more so, knowing that this is partially his doing. He did this to Suhyeok.
“You know I like you, right? I always have,” Suhyeok suddenly says, so earnestly yet so quietly it could be carried away by a soft breeze if the window was open. “But you pushing me away that day makes me second guess on whether this is mutual.” There’s a tinge of hurt in the way he speaks, and in this very moment, Cheongsan wants nothing more than to make this uncertainty of his go away.
So, he doesn’t say anything in response to that; merely reels him in for another kiss, except this time it’s more urgent, more desperate; bruising and rough. He has something he wants to say, without actually saying it, hoping this is enough to get his answer through to him. His hands slide down, grasping at his collar to pull him even closer, and the world around him slowly melts away as Suhyeok matches his fervour, groaning a little against his lips (Cheongsan realises then and there that this isn’t something he’s ever going to get used to, the reactions and the sounds he can elicit from the other boy, but this is something he wants in his life, and he relishes in that thought).
He’s acutely aware of how the kitchen counter’s edge is still digging into his back, but that problem’s soon eradicated when Suhyeok grabs his waist and hoists him up onto the counter, all the more eager to get as close as possible to him. Cheongsan breathes out a surprised laugh against his lips when he feels the coolness of the counter through his sweatpants, while the other boy stands between his thighs, hands still grasping so tightly on his waist, it’s almost like he doesn’t want to let go of him, the tips of his slender fingers digging into clothed skin.
Good god, he’s never been kissed like this before and he doesn’t want to be kissed any other way, by any other person. He brings a hand to the side of Suhyeok’s neck, cupping it gently, thumb brushing along the curve of his jaw as Suhyeok licks his way into his mouth. His legs wrap around his waist, tingles washing down from his head to his toes, his senses invaded and overwhelmed by the familiar taste of peach when his mouth falls open for Suhyeok; always the overpowering taste of peach, and nothing else can seem to replace it.
Soft noises of content slip past his lips as Suhyeok presses against him, their chests flush against each other’s, and he feels a warmth in the pit of his stomach, spreading throughout his entire being like wildfire, burning brighter than ever. As Suhyeok trails open-mouthed kisses from his jaw to his neck, hands slipping under his shirt once again to squeeze around his waist, he feels want coil in his stomach. This time, Cheongsan doesn’t stop or push him away, allowing his palms to rest there, to hitch his shirt up, the cool air around them stinging his skin. He wants this — him — so bad and he doesn’t care if he’s being obvious about it, with the sounds he’s making and the way he’s coming undone just by having Suhyeok kissing him like this.
Suhyeok stops for a brief moment when a breathless, needy whisper falls from Cheongsan’s red, red lips: “Bedroom.” He swallows thickly, eyes blown wide as he gazes at Suhyeok with a sincerity unmatched. “Please.”
(Cheongsan sees the way Suhyeok’s eyes lights up at that; smiles at how quickly he obliges, and despite it all, soft laughter spills from his lips when Suhyeok lifts him up and carries him to his bedroom, the sound bouncing off the walls of their flat as Suhyeok kicks the door shut behind him.)
—
“So who was that girl?” Cheongsan asks, voice muffled against the fabric of Suhyeok’s hoodie. He’s currently curled up against him, fresh and clean now that he’s taken a shower, arm slung lazily over his waist. He’s tired, and he feels just a tad bit sore (all thanks to the idiot gentle giant he’s curled up against), but otherwise, he’s pretty content with how things have gone.
“The one who kissed me at the party?” Suhyeok questions, fingers playing with Cheongsan’s hair at the nape of his neck.
Cheongsan looks up at him with a slight scowl. “Yes, I’m talking about the one who you kissed at the party,” he says pointedly, which elicits a soft laugh from Suhyeok.
He gently tips his chin upwards and plants a kiss on his lips, ebbing the scowl away with a few smaller pecks, pulling away only when he's satisfied Cheongsan's not scowling at him anymore. “Okay, just a small clarification which should make a huge difference and clear my name: she was the one who kissed me. I had no clue who she was — she grabbed me by the collar and told me not to ask any questions and then just went for it before I could even react.” He shudders. “It wasn’t pleasant, but then I saw you standing there and I had to fight to get her off me. You were gone by the time I succeeded, and I couldn’t catch up to you.”
Cheongsan blinks. Oh. So that desperate sounding “wait” he heard was probably not his imagination, then. “So, did she tell you why she did that?” He twists one side of Suhyeok's hoodie string around his index finger, watching as it unravels when he stops twisting it.
“Something about her ex watching us or something and wanting to make him jealous? It was weird, but I wasn’t really listening because I was on an urgent quest to look for you. She wanted to go in for another one, but I was quick enough to push her away.” A tired exhale leaves him, eyes sliding close for a brief moment. “I found Gyeongsu, and he told me you went home because you were feeling unwell. I wanted to talk to you when I got back to our flat, but you completely shut me out, so I tried talking to you the morning after, but you’d already left the flat and didn’t come back until well into the night, in which I had already fallen asleep. It took me until the third day after the party before I realised you were blatantly avoiding me.” He huffs, softly. “But just for the record, I wouldn’t want to kiss anyone if they aren’t you,” he adds, brushing his thumb against his cheek.
Pressing his face against his chest, Cheongsan successfully hides the abashed smile, which he can feel is making its way onto his lips. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s fine. I'm just glad we're okay. I do wonder though… Why’d you avoid me after the kiss that day? You had my feelings hurt, you know,” he says, prodding his side lightly.
“I don’t know,” Cheongsan answers, honestly, his voice muffled. He glances up at Suhyeok. “I guess I was confused, and I needed time to process what the hell had just happened, and by the time I finished processing my stupid feelings, you were out there kissing other people, and it honestly kind of hurt. I was clearly sorely mistaken about you doing that on your own accord, as I’ve been told.” He lets out a low laugh, tipping his head back slightly. “But even if I wasn’t, I probably shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He sighs. “You can kiss whoever and it shouldn’t be something for me to be mad about. It’s not like you were mine or anything.”
“Were?” Suhyeok repeats, raising a brow. “I didn’t realise me being yours has become present tense.”
Cheongsan tenses against him. “Is that— I thought— are we not on the same page?” he questions in a confused stutter, brows furrowing as he starts to recoil. “I thought you—”
“Baby, I’m playing with you,” Suhyeok quickly reassures, and it melts Cheongsan in more ways than one, to have him call him that. “I was just teasing you.”
Grumbling in relief and annoyance, Cheongsan slaps him on the chest, lightly. “Don’t fucking do that, you jackass. I’m fragile,” he says, glaring playfully up at him.
“Sure you are,” Suhyeok teases, smiling impishly. “Not fragile enough to take a little pounding though, hm?” he questions, slipping a hand under his shirt to pinch his waist, which is highly unnecessary, but it results in its intended effect — it elicits a soft, involuntary whine from Cheongsan.
A win for Suhyeok, a loss for Cheongsan. He can never win when it comes to him, and that’s got to change.
Cheongsan can feel his face turn crimson as he makes to slap him again, eyes widening. “Oh my god, you’re so insufferable! What is wrong with you?” Suhyeok catches his hand and plants a kiss on his knuckles, which softens him immediately. “God, I hate you,” he mumbles as Suhyeok places his arm around his waist again. He tightens his arm around him, sighing heavily.
“You mean you hate the effect I have on you,” he corrects.
Closing his eyes, Cheongsan snuggles up against him. “Whatever you want to believe.”
It’s quiet for a beat when Suhyeok asks, “So… Are you actually mad about the Skittles? I can buy you more later on.” He sounds genuinely concerned, and Cheongsan finds it so very endearing.
Cheongsan breathes out a soft laugh against his hoodie, shaking his head gently. “It was never about the Skittles,” he admits.
Because really, it wasn’t. It never was.
(He makes impulsive decisions, but perhaps this is the best one he’s made to date yet.)