Chapter Text
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Dong-Ju left Han-na’s place feeling vaguely triumphant. Maybe not fully satisfied, but satisfied enough to make a detour.
Jong-Hyeon’s apartment wasn’t exactly on the way, but that had never stopped him in the first place. He had news, after all: Han-na had finally chosen him.
He’d won— won her over.
Not that it was a competition between him and Jong-Hyeon.
His feelings for her were real. This wasn’t about scoring points like back then.
Except, well… Dong-Ju was a little petty by nature.
So if annoying Jong-Hyeon just happened to be another part of this evening’s entertainment, who could really blame him?
Especially when he needed the distraction.
Han-na’s lips had been warm, her touch just bold enough to make him want more, but then her mother had knocked on the door like crazy, and whatever they’d started fizzled out with an awkward goodbye and a promise to “continue next time.”
Now he was left buzzing and restless and in need of somewhere to put all that unspent energy.
So showing up at Jong-Hyeon’s door like this: hair damp, grin tugging at his mouth, barely clothed, would definitely make Jong-Hyeon upset.
That gave Dong-Ju another type of satisfaction, so yes— this wasn’t really about her anymore right now.
Not if he was honest.
It was about him, the look Jong-Hyeon would give him. That frown, that sharp little sigh like he couldn’t stand him, but also couldn’t look away.
Dong-Ju just wanted to get under his skin.
That was all. Surely.
⁃
Jong-Hyeon was elbow-deep in mucking up, lost in thoughts while the sound of his TV was echoing through his apartment, when a sudden pounding on his door made him drop whatever he had just been holding, followed by the doorbell being almost abused. He sighed at his disturbed peace and shoved the discarded stuff aside, heading toward the door.
Only one person would show up this late and be that obnoxious about it, he thought.
And, of course, he was right.
Jong-Hyeon frowned when he saw the screen of his intercom system, which showed him the sight of a giddy and smiley Dong-Ju at the front door of his apartment.
“Hyung. Open the door, will you? It’s me— Yoon Dong-Ju! Hello? Can you hear me— does this even work…”
His voice quietly came out of the speaker while his face was barely an inch away from the camera. A towel was loosely dangling from his head and he was wearing nothing but shoes, shorts and a black tank top.
What had he been up to this time again… at 11 p.m. on a Thursday night, no less? And why on earth had he chosen come to him and disturb his peace?
Jong-Hyeon ran a hand over his face, hesitated… and then opened the door reluctantly. He didn’t even know why he decided to open the door in the first place but already regretted that he did.
He also didn’t need to say a word when he opened the door just far enough for Dong-Ju to see him, because his face spoke for itself. You’re not welcome.
Jong-Hyeon was forced to step aside and he reluctantly let Dong-Ju in, eyes following the droplets running down his face and neck irritated. Jong-Hyeon’s brows narrowed.
Dong-Ju on the other brushed past him, deliberately slow, the faint scent of Han-na’s perfume still clinging to his skin. He felt it when Jong-Hyeon’s gaze landed on his bare skin, charged. He smirked.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” Dong-Ju said, casual, too casual, letting himself fall onto the couch as if he owned the place.
“I was about to,” Jong-Hyeon replied, shutting the door with a quiet click. “Then you happened.”
“Sorry about that.” Dong-Ju said absentmindedly and curiously looked around the room.
Jong-Hyeon didn’t move. Arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted just enough to signal annoyance. Or maybe curiosity.
Inside, he was doing his damned best to stay composed.
He knew something had happened between Dong-Ju and Han-na. It was written all over him. Messy hair, smug grin, that restless energy he only ever wore when he was pretending to hide something. And of course her god damn perfume stuck on his body.
Jong-Hyeon figured that was why he was here.
To rub it in. To claim his victory.
But Jong-Hyeon wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Not tonight. He hated losing and Dong-Ju knew that too well.
Dong-Ju eyed him and noticed this too unfazed look on Jong-Hyeon’s face.
Oh, so we’re pretending this doesn’t bother you at all? Sure.
But he hadn’t dragged himself over here to Jong-Hyeon, barely dressed and on the verge of going crazy, just for silence.
He needed something tonight. Reaction, resistance, anything.
Otherwise, this restlessness coiled in his chest might just make him lose his mind. So he went further.
“So?” he asked, voice light. “Aren’t you going to ask how it went?”
Jong-Hyeon just stood there. “Don’t need to.”
Dong-Ju’s smirk faltered for a second, because that tone, low and quiet, wasn’t really jealousy. It was something else. Hurt? Anger?
Whatever it was, it sent a jolt through him.
Because it meant he’d hit a nerve.
And that was exactly what he wanted. A reaction. A crack in Jong-Hyeon’s facade.
Dong-Ju’s smirk returned, sharper now, a little more dangerous and tempting. He was close to crossing the line.
He rose from the couch in one smooth motion and padded across the room, rolling his shoulders back as if he had all the time in the world. His eyes never left Jong-Hyeon’s.
“Touchy,” he murmured, his voice playful. “Didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”
Jong-Hyeon’s stare was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away.
He still stood there, arms crossed, every line in his body tight like he was holding something back. Words, movement, feelings.
“Of course you did,” Jong-Hyeon said, voice barely above a whisper, but sharp and cutting. “That’s what you’re here for, after all.”
The air between them went still.
Not silent. Not calm. But charged.
Dong-Ju blinked, once. Then let out a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh.
“Wow,” he said, almost admiring. “You make it sound like I crept in here just to get under your skin.”
Jong-Hyeon didn’t move.
“You didn’t creep,” he said. “You strutted in like you wanted to be praised for it… in your own weird way.”
That landed with a thud somewhere low in Dong-Ju’s chest. Not because Jong-Hyeon was wrong.
No, because he was too right.
Because all Dong-Ju had ever truly wanted, was to be seen without having to beg for it. To be understood. Something Jong-Hyeon somehow threatened to offer right now. He had figured him out just like that, laid him bare, with a sentence and a stare.
Dong-Ju stepped closer like something pulled him in.
“Maybe I did,” he murmured, eyes locked with Jong-Hyeon’s. “Is that what you’re offering? Praise me and admit you lost?”
Jong-Hyeon’s jaw clenched. A beat passed.
He uncrossed his arms with a slowness that felt like a warning more than a gesture. Something shifted… like he’d just made a decision.
“I’m not offering anything,” he said. “But you keep pushing, and you’ll find out what happens when I stop holding back.”
Dong-Ju’s breath hitched. Not enough to be obvious, but enough that Jong-Hyeon would catch it if he was paying attention.
And he was.
Those words threw Dong-ju off, not just slightly. And to his unwelcome surprise, he noticed something that made his mind race uncomfortably fast. This consuming heat flared up inside him again. The same low-burning pulse that had started earlier that night too, when Dong-Ju had his hands on Han-na’s hips and her breath in his mouth. Right before it all got cut short. Interrupted. Denied.
It had been hunger then, desire for more. But now it came back distorted. Twisted by proximity, by the tension curling off Jong-Hyeon like static. It moved differently in his body this time. Sharper. More charged. Like something borrowed and misdirected.
He remembered that Jong-Hyeon had been with Han-na too. Wanted her. Still wanted her.
That knowledge hung between them like smoke. Neither of them said it. Neither of them had to. And right now, it was like fuel to the fire inside Dong-Ju‘s core.
Dong-Ju tilted his head, gaze flicking to Jong-Hyeon’s mouth and then back, unapologetically slow. His body was on fire, and his mind rebelled.
These feelings had no business being here.
Not with him.
Not like this.
And still, something in him didn’t really care anymore right now. Not if it was want. Not if it was revenge.
Not if it was just the unbearable pressure of being seen too clearly by the one person who shouldn’t.
Dong-Ju blinked hard, just once. He needed to reconnect with reality fast or else—
“Oh?” Dong-Ju said, voice barely above a whisper now. “Careful. That sounds a lot like a promise.”
— this would lead somewhere very dangerous.
Jong-Hyeon didn’t answer. He just took a small and controlled step forward, erasing almost all the space that was left between them.
Now they were so close that Dong-Ju could feel the heat coming off him, could sense the tension in his throat when he swallowed.
“I don’t make promises,” Jong-Hyeon said, voice low and rough. “I just follow through.”
A shiver ran down Dong-Ju’s spine, but he didn’t back off. He almost unnoticeably leaned in a little further, close enough that his lips ghosted Jong-Hyeon’s jaw. He was too caught up in this moment and couldn’t possibly think straight.
“You always have that big mouth when you’ve lost?”
That did it.
Jong-Hyeon snapped and all of a sudden his hand was on the collar of Dong-Ju’s shirt, pulling him in fast and rough.