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“I’ll kiss you so fucking hard for this.”
Soonyoung in his unzipped padded parka and just a mesh shirt underneath, wobbling around the stairwell with a bucket full of soggy watermelon. The overhead lights glint off the rhinestones on his cheeks, his bleach-fried hair, the eyeliner that’s smudging at the corners. He looks messed up and kind of ridiculous, or maybe Seokmin is just in a mood to find him ridiculous, since the alternative is to admit why he’s helping him clean a crime scene at one a.m.
“Can you pass me the tissues?”
Soonyoung blinks drunkenly at him, then sticks a hand into the bucket as if expecting the tissues to be floating around in there. Seokmin crawls up a couple of steps and grabs the box that’s resting by Soonyoung’s feet. In addition to the fruit juice, the steps are cold and covered with random shit that people have been dragging to and from the party all night: popcorn flakes, a few cocktail picks and a champagne cork, tiny bits of street gravel that dig into Seokmin’s knees.
“I mean it,” Soonyoung says darkly, watching Seokmin tear out handfuls of fresh tissues. “I’ll eat your face.”
Seokmin pouts. “Without buying me dinner first?”
“You want dinner? Dude, I’ll cook you a three-course meal.”
“Am I only worth three courses?”
“I’ll make it fifty courses.”
“Half of them better be dessert,” Seokmin says, pulling at a piece of rind that’s nestled between the bars of the railing.
A door clicks open on the floor above, and a wave of Indie Mix and loud voices pours into the stairwell. Then the wave ebbs and Jisoo steps into view, as he’s tucking a prim silk scarf into his overcoat. He has come to a New Years’ house party dressed like someone’s rich aunt, but it’s such a look, honestly.
“Leaving now, hyung?” Seokmin asks as he passes them.
“Mmh,” Jisoo says. He glances from his phone into the bucket, adjusting the scarf. “What are you two doing?”
“Hoshi-hyung threw a watermelon down the stairs.”
“The fuck did he do that for?”
“To see what would happen,” Soonyoung says.
“Oh, right. Of course. But why are you here, Dokyeom-ah?”
“Because he wants me to fall for him,” Soonyoung says, sounding so giddy about it that Seokmin can’t help but smile, too.
Jisoo rolls his eyes, returning to his phone. “You kids have fun with that.”
Once he has left, Seokmin tosses the bit of rind into the bucket and wipes his hands on his jeans.
“Are we done?” Soonyoung asks.
“We’re done,” Seokmin says. And because his heart feels so large, he pinches Soonyoung’s chin in his fingers and presses a wet kiss to his forehead; right above his kind, gorgeous eyes.
Soonyoung just laughs. “But I didn’t cook for you yet!”
“Make me a drink, then,” Seokmin suggests, as they start walking back up the stairs with the bucket swinging between them.
There’s still some red splatter on the walls. A work of graffiti left behind in limbo.