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Summer breeze. Ghostly clouds litter the City's well-illuminated alleyways. The buildings mesh together in an ashy blur.
The air is humid.
Clacking of heels and thuds of trackers echo through the eery, oddly pleasant silence.
On a dam with dark grey tiles, at a relatively small distance from one another, two figures walk side by side. The pavement squeaking under the weight of their saunter shines in the jaundiced light of street lamps.
“Can I kiss you?“
Samjo stops dead in his tracks and turns his head sideways. Dongrang tries to pry his heart open with an insistent smile.
“I need explicit permission. It is not my intention to make you feel any sort of discomfort.“
“Hmph.”
“Do you not trust me?”
“I will ignore the last question and opt for only answering the previous one.”
Samjo tentatively takes a few small steps towards Dongrang and blankly looks into his eyes, before lowering his head.
“All in all, that would be nice.”
A round of excited claps is muffled by his wandering mind, as his attention is fixed on the tall figure circling him.
“Hm~ Alright. Should I hug you in the meantime?”
“I don't know. How do couples usually go about this whole…ordeal? Thing. Do you have any idea?”
“People from the City aren't typically affectionate with each other…and I, for one, cannot speak from experience either.”
“I understand. Well. You're allowed to hurry up, in any case.”
“How cold, Samjo. Rushing me is not polite~”
Dongrang leans down and cocks his head to the side and, as he steps forward, Samjo instinctively freezes. He has to promptly remind himself that it's probably for the best not to brace for physical contact, but rather ease up. He lets his head fall on his partner's shoulder, who gingerly wraps his arms around his torso. He's pushed back slightly, his jaw is tilted up and then, uhhh….well. It's. Um.
Dongrang clumsily nibbles at the corners of his mouth like a fish. Samjo puckers his lips and tilts his head back. He falters.
“Oh my wi— That…that was…that was pretty bad.”
“Ahhh….I see I see. Would you rather I kissed your neck, cheek, nose or jaw instead?”
“S’fine. No worries, man. And ah, right—what should I do with my arms?”
“I don't know, Samjo…I suppose you can hold me or tangle your fingers in my hair, if you so desire?”
Some might say that Samjo is carefully thinking about the next thing he's gonna say while gawking at Dongrang's boots.
Experienced observers might note that his brain prison is empty most of the time and his gaze is a result of internally lagging.
Truthfully, he has no thoughts ever.
To get his attention, the object of his vacant admiration pokes his forehead and lets his touch linger.
No response.
He twists his index finger and receives the desired reaction: a face slightly contorted with mild annoyance and a brief sigh.
“Alright…soooo...”
“Go on.”
“Why do you have to be wearing high heels…”
Dongrang grins idiotically and has another attempt at a proper kiss.
“mmf-oW! WHY?!! You bit me!!”
“Sorry.”
“You're not sorry in the slightest.”
“Tsundere. You're a tsundere.“
Samjo scoffs and places a hand on his hip.
“You liked it. I will bite you again. Wait, where are you going—”
Samjo creates some distance between the two of them and is ready to dart away any moment. His whole body turns in the direction of the nearest bus station.
“I'm not coming with you, Samjo.”
“Bye.”
“Come baaaaack”
Dongrang starts chasing after him. When he feels that he's close to catching up, he spreads his arms out. Samjo picks up speed, alarmed, and evades the embrace.
“HOW IS IT POSSIBLE FOR YOU YOU RUN SO FAST IN THOSE GyiiHHH–“
“Heheh.”
Despite running for his life and almost tearing up from the cold air blowing into his sensitive ears, Dongrang charges in front of him without breaking a sweat. Not even running backwards or trying to evade helps; in a swift motion, he's tackled to the ground and yelps in pain as his right arm is pulled up and immobilised.
The worst shit-eating grin comes into view. His lover’s body is bent forward and his legs are put together, proud to have perfectly executed a basic judo throw.
Samjo slaps the ground in desperation, hoping that he's gonna be released and that nobody else is out and about at this hour.
“I strongly advise you not to move a single muscle. Samjo, I need to let you know that I am fully capable of breaking your arm.”
He lets his back sink into the pavement and his side leans against Dongrang's leather boots, which lightly poke his ribcage.
“I concede. Have your way.”
His significant other's expression is nothing short of unreadable and strange before his weight rests on top of Samjo’s chest.
“Sigh, you're out of your mind. When are we going to get up and head home?”
“Not now. I'm spent. Be patient.”
“Man.”
“Woman.”
“Let's go.”
“No. Too comfortable.”
Samjo tries to sit up enough so that his significant other slides off his sternum, but is briskly pushed back down without a second thought and, well. It so happens that Dongrang's head is now rested on top of his belly and the most reasonable course of action for him is to curl up and lightly press his cheek into Samjo's t-shirt.
“I hate you.”
He's otherwise speechless.
Not willing to point out the hypocrisy in that triad of words, Dongrang ignores him and carelessly hums a tune.
The secretary placidly runs his hand through the manager's algae-green hair. As always, it has a feathery texture, despite being dishevelled. It's impressive how he consistently takes good care of it, especially taking his work environment into account.
It takes him a moment to notice that, at some point in time, the head has poked up from his abdomen as quickly as a turnip being uprooted.
Feeling the tiniest tiny bit of existential dread from being stared at, his hand stills.
The other man clambers up and sleepily peers at his face.
The next thing that he registers is having his forehead pressed Dongrang’s, followed by getting both of his cheeks scratched by a pair of chapped lips. He carefully embraces his lover's bare midriff and gives him a quick peck.
Upon realising what he's done, his head jolts back in pure horror, with a face looking as if he's accidentally shot someone.
“Ohoo~ this is a moment in history.”
“...”
Dongrang rises to his feet and dusts off his clothes, pleasantly satisfied with the outcome of his endeavours. He notices that Samjo is still paralysed in a mix of embarrassment and confusion, so he extends a gloved hand downward and emphatically swings it from side to side.
“We can go now, darling. I'll have you treated when we get home.”
He closes his eyes and sighs in pretense irritation.
“Fine. Let's go.”
He allows Dongrang to grab his hand and is pulled back to his feet with immense strength. Despite nearly toppling over in surprise, he manages to find his balance, with some help.
They entwine their fingers, affectionately connected through their gazes.
Without any warning or sign, the sweet moment melts away.
“If you're badly bruised, I can princess-carry you.“
“Some other time, Dongrang.”
“SOME OTHER TI—WOAHHH. I LOVE YOU TOO.”
“Yeah…”
Samjo quietly kicks a rock and lets himself be dragged towards the bus station, mouthing affirmations he doesn't have the courage to utter. Absent-mindedly, he clasps Dongrang's hand and clings onto his arm.