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"Can you teach me one more time?" Hanbin asks, eyes wide and pleading—the kind of look Hao could never resist. Never.
"Hanbin-ah…" Hao tries to protest, but he already knows it’s over. He’s going to give in, no matter what. It’s Hanbin.
"Just one more time."
"I think you just want to keep kissing me," Hao jokes, lightheartedly—deflecting, trying not to break down right now in front of him.
Hanbin looks away, fingers twitching as he folds and unfolds them repeatedly. A nervous habit. Hao had always held his hands in moments like this, grounding him, steadying him. He had done it the day Hanbin asked him to teach him how to kiss, rambling about how he’d never had a first kiss, how he felt left out, and how he was going on a date and didn’t want to mess it up. Hao had thought his best friend had grown two heads. He hoped it was a joke. But then he saw Hanbin’s fingers trembling, and he knew—Hanbin had meant it.
Hanbin is doing the same thing now, and Hao’s head spins. He means it. He really does just want to keep kissing him.
What does that mean?
Hao’s brain offers the most delusional answer: Hanbin finally likes him back. But he knows better. He’s had this thought before and always wound up disappointed. He’s tired of the back-and-forth in his mind, so this time, he just asks.
"Hanbin-ah, look at me." His voice is soft, maybe even a little hopeful.
"Hao, I can explain," Hanbin stammers, stumbling over his words like a kid caught stealing candy, scrambling for an excuse.
"It’s okay. You can tell me anything."
"You won’t make fun of me?" Hanbin asks. It’s almost funny, the thought of Hao ever making fun of him. But Hanbin needs reassurance, so he gives it.
"I promise," Hao says, crossing his arms over his chest. A thing Hanbin made him do every time he wanted a real, solid promise.
Hanbin exhales, grips Hao’s hands. "I think I’m gay."
Hao feels his breath stolen away. He expected it and didn’t at the same time. These are the words he’s dreamed of Hanbin saying for years. He’d tried to figure Hanbin out before, testing the waters with hypothetical questions.
Would you kiss me if it would save my life? Hao asked.
Hanbin would only reply, "What kind of question is that? I wouldn’t let you die, of course."
"Would you date me if I was the only one left on Earth?" Hao had pressed, heart hammering.
Hanbin had shrugged and said, "Wait, we can be best friends so we’d be together forever. That’s even better than dating—we’d never break up." He had smiled like he’d just discovered the best idea ever. Hao had wanted to smack him.
But now, Hanbin is finally the one saying it.
"Okay, congratulations," Hao says, and he means it. He’s happy for him. He is.
But his chest feels like it’s caving in. His thoughts stumble over themselves, rolling like a log down a hill, gaining speed, crashing into each other. Does this mean he has to watch Hanbin date other boys that aren’t him? Just the thought makes his stomach twist. He might as well put a knife to his own throat.
"Wait, hold on, listen to me." Hanbin grips his hands tighter, snapping him out of it. His fingers dig in, grounding. "I think I like you."
Hao's brain short-circuits. "What?"
"Please don’t laugh, it's just…" Hanbin runs a hand through his hair, looking completely overwhelmed.
Something about the uncertainty in Hanbin’s eyes, the way he looks like he's on the verge of breaking down, tugs at Hao’s chest. Without thinking, he squeezes Hanbin’s hand, grounding him again.
"I wanted to test it with the first kiss, but it just made me more confused. I know I’m attracted to boys—well, you—but you’re a boy, so…" Hanbin exhales sharply. "I really liked the kiss then. But I don’t know if I like you specifically. That’s why I need another one. To confirm."
"Oh." Hao says, dumbly.
"I know you’re not into me or anything, and I’m not pressuring you. If I do like you, I’ll get over it. I’ll try to. I just… I don’t want to stop being best friends with you."
"Can you stop talking?" Hao interrupts.
"No, Hao, you don’t understand. I need you in my life. I can’t lose you just because of a stupid crush, but I need to know first." Hanbin’s voice cracks, and suddenly, there are tears spilling down his cheeks. He’s terrified. Hao knows this. Hanbin has always been scared of change, has always wanted things to stay the same.
"Okay," Hao says, because it’s the only thing that matters. "You can try."
Hanbin swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Hao realizes—his hands are clammy. The rise and fall of his chest are just a little too quick, like he's bracing for something big. Maybe Hao is too, because his own fingers twitch, his pulse hammering beneath his skin.
Then Hanbin moves slowly—like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. Hao barely has time to suck in a sharp breath before warm lips meet his own.
It’s soft, hesitant—like Hanbin is testing the waters. He pauses, frozen against Hao’s lips, his breath warm between them, their heartbeats a frantic, tangled mess in the silence.
Oh. He doesn’t like me, Hao thinks.
Then Hanbin moves. His lips begin to press and shift, still hesitant but wanting. His hands slide up, cupping the back of Hao’s neck, pulling him closer. Hao tilts his head, guiding him, deepening the kiss, leading him like he always has.
Hanbin is so uncoordinated—frantic, hungry, like he doesn’t know how to stop. Hao has to pull away just to breathe, but Hanbin surges forward again, desperate.
Oh.
Hao has his answer.
"I like you too," Hao says, barely a breath before he kisses Hanbin again.