Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Kick, honey, kick! You have to kick…”

Below the surface of the water, the bright chaos of the surrounding world fades away as little Hanbin sinks, his mother’s instructions barely audible now that he’s fully submerged. Descending deeper and deeper until smooth, painted concrete grazes the still-soft flesh beneath tiny heels, the boy is flooded with the realization that this – this magical, serene world in which he’s found himself, secluded from all the rest – is the bottom of their local swimming pool.

At first, just testing his limits, he tries to speak. Chemically-treated liquid breaches the entrance of his mouth, filling it quickly with the not-totally-unpleasant taste of chlorine. Having only just turned five years old, this is all new to him. His eomma always told family and friends how he took to water extraordinarily well, swimming around in his floaties with ease. But this is a first: being thrown in on his own without any devices, or other humans, to help keep him afloat.

So next, he assesses his surroundings. It’s pretty down here. Even though his parents have never let him swim this deep before, the pool has constantly been a source of fascination. Down at the bottom, he’d imagined there would be sea monsters, or maybe little creatures that would nip at his toes. But none of that turns out to be true; instead, he finds a lovely, tranquil world made just for him and him alone. And he loves it more than he’d ever imagined possible.

Only one other type of entity co-exists with him at the pool’s floor: tiny little bubbles that seem to make their exit not long after their birth, like babies leaving their mother’s womb. He observes how they form, air filling each one before propelling them up, up, up. He cranes his neck to watch them crack the surface above, disappearing one by one upon arrival. And at once, it clicks. He knows now what he must do; or, at least, what he must try. Despite the refreshing calm he feels, the air in his lungs is running out fast. Oh, how he longs to be a mermaid like the one in his favorite movie and live in the water’s depths forever! But alas, he must figure out how to escape and emerge back into the real world once more, instead. Because he does miss some things up there – his parents, his toys, his favorite plushie. Therefore, it’s time to go.

It’s up to him whether he’ll sink or swim, now. Baby Hanbin chooses the latter.

Instinct taking over with only the tiniest bit of oxygen left within his chest, he mimics that majestic mermaid and kicks his legs like a tail, pushing off against the ground with the pad of one bare foot. And would you believe it? It works! Higher and higher he floats, the voice that surrounds him like a hug finally reaching his ears again, outside sun illuminating the water and caressing his skin with its warmth as he rises. He rises, and rises, and…

A whistle startles Hanbin out of reverie, from recalling his very first childhood memory, head emerging from the water with splashes and staggered gasps. Anchoring himself to the wall of his university’s indoor pool with one hand, he uses the other to remove his goggles, tossing them onto the floor tiles to catch his breath. Fluorescent light filters into his eyes incrementally and the more that they adjust to their surroundings, the more the ground level returns to focus.

“One minute and fifty-seven seconds. Not bad, Hanbin! That’s an eight second improvement. Pretty soon, you’ll be able to live down there!” The handsome man standing poolside with a clipboard in hand chuckles weakly at his own joke.

“That’s great, hyung!” Hanbin blinks water out of his long lashes, a dimpled grin plastered across his face. He shakes his head to and fro like a pup let in from the rain, strands of damp tresses settling in front of starry brown eyes.

If there are two things Coach Jiwoong is good at, they are as follows: One, cracking himself up. And two, praising Hanbin. Holding the overall record in freestyle, butterfly, and breaststroke does come with that little perk. Well, that, plus approximately thirty-two trophies and medals, displayed neatly across the fireplace mantle of his childhood home by two supportive parents who couldn’t be more proud of their successful son.

Echoes of rowdy young men’s boisterous yells bounce off the ceilings of the humid room, filling it with noise as they file in. Jiwoong and Hanbin had been doing one-on-one training for the hour before their actual weekly practice time, one of the many special privileges the team captain receives – although most of his teammates would consider it less of a privilege and more of an unusual, cruel punishment if they had to do the same. The men are already dressed similarly to Hanbin in their goggles, and their jammers: low-rise shorts or pants for competitive swimming designed to cling tightly to the body to reduce drag in the water, which helps to increase overall speed. Some jump in the pool right away while others only sit and stick their feet in, lollygagging around the edge of the pool with one another.

“Hey Hanbin-hyung, how is your breath training going? Any better?” A tall, broad guy with chlorine-faded purple hair parted in the center of his head plops into a spot on the ledge beside Hanbin’s goggles. He sticks his feet in and, smirking, jabs the older’s defined abs playfully with his big toe. Although it’s clear that every single one of the athletes among them is extremely muscular and lean in build, this one specifically is even more chiseled than most, giant calf muscles practically bursting through the full-length speedo pants that constrict them.

Hanbin giggles, incredibly ticklish. I’ll show him. “Gunwookie, you already know that was a bad idea!” To return the favor, he splashes water at the nineteen-year-old, a devilish smile tinging his wet features.

Contrary to his masculine physicality, Gunwook snickers like a schoolgirl when his swim captain splashes him even more, over and over again until he’s jumping in the heated pool himself to seek further revenge. Hanbin can’t help but show off all the teeth in his mouth, excited and endeared by one of his best friends gearing up to chase him. He wades away as far as possible in preparation. While he can be a little uptight and strict on himself at times when it comes to training, as hard as he works, Hanbin still plays just as hard.

“You better come back here!!” Gunwook threatens, immersing himself fully, slicking his hair back with one hand and kicking off the side of the pool to get closer to his mischievous hyung’s escape spot, and fast. Just as another one of their most physically intimidating teammates, Gyuvin, is about to dive in headfirst to come protect his slightly smaller captain from Gunwook’s silly wrath, a familiar whistle rings out. The familiar noise stops them all in their tracks and silences every one of the seven voices present in one fell swoop.

Two taunting dimples are prominent on the face of the petite, furrow-browed man who blew it, his slacks neatly ironed and polo shirt bearing the University’s logo in the corner of his chest. When he begins to speak, every one of them but Coach Jiwoong and a boy with a flawlessly-styled, cherry-red wolf cut gathers around, climbing into the swimming pool as quietly as possible if they aren’t already there. “You know,” he states bluntly, “If you just wanted to have fun instead of train, I could let each of you complete two-hundred meter laps before we continue. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

“No, coach!” Without pause, all the young men yell robotically in unison while staring up at him with eyes wide as the blue sky visible through the skylight.

Looking all too pleased with himself, the assistant manager of the team adds, “No, Coach what…?”

“No, Coach Taerae-nim!” They each shout it out, just as they have dozens of times before. It’s not that their assistant coach is cruel, or mean, or even power-hungry – actually, Hanbin quite adores the little guy. The grad school second-year just runs their swim team like it’s the military, and as someone who enjoys winning, that kind of structure and discipline is actually quite crucial to his success.

“You know, dude,” Jiwoong reasons with his assistant as if he, himself, isn’t supposed to be the authority figure here, especially having several years on him. “Practice didn’t technically start until after you’d already started yelling. Just saying…” When he catches wind of the flaming arrows Taerae’s glare is shooting at him, the head manager immediately backs down. He zips his lips shut with a hand motion before taking a seat on the nearest bleacher to pretend to study his clipboard, his metaphorical tail between his legs. Or, well, Hanbin knows it’s pretend, anyway. Having become so close with Coach Jiwoong, they’ll sometimes go out for drinks and blow off steam in regards to the assistant coach and his stern nature. In a boozy daze, he’s admitted to the clipboard maneuver being solely one trick of many to get Taerae off his back. Similar to his coaching style, Kim Jiwoong always has at least one strategy in place to accomplish his goals. In this case, that goal happens to be not taking any more shit from a twenty-three-year-old for the time being.

Gyuvin snorts to stifle a laugh, so Hanbin elbows him in the side. Gyuvin’s already triggered Coach Taerae enough this month that he’s likely swam halfway around the world at this point.

“That’ll be a lap, Gyuvin.” Sure enough, Taerae doesn’t stand for his mockery today, either. Though most days the nineteen-year-old sophomore would talk back and bully his assistant coach a bit, maybe comment on how he’d like to see him try (only stopping back-talking when Jiwoong finally steps in and tells him that’s enough) the elbow from his role model Hanbin causes him to simply roll his eyes. He rubs his stomach at the point of impact with a groan and reluctantly sulks to the freestyle lane, beginning a leisurely backstroke down the pool, instead.

Taerae crosses his arms. “Anyone else?” A pause, for dramatic effect. “Good!” It seems like their sassy assistant coach means business even more today than usual, which is really saying something. So, the usually rowdy group keeps their mouths shut.

Hanbin glances over at his best friend and roommate Seok Matthew – an equally determined, yet goofy, transfer student from Canada, one year younger and ten centimeters shorter than himself – and has to bite his lower lip to hold in a chuckle when he sees the wide-eyed look on his face. He quickly whips his head back to hear what their coach has to say.

“Well, alright. Now that I’ve got your attention. There’s no easy way to break this to you guys since, I know it’s been a while since we’ve gotten fresh meat in here, but…”

“What? A new swimmer?!” The only member of the team who’s still fully clothed interrupts, sitting poolside with his flawless cherry-red hair and a full face of makeup on. His name is Shen Ricky, another second-year transfer student from the West. Despite having the best backstroke on the team (aside from Hanbin), he refuses to train with them and volunteers to sit out most competitions, as he absolutely loathes to “ruin his hair and makeup,” as he claims. Hanbin suspects he’s a little lazy, and was only pushed into swimming by his parents. Probably got a scholarship. For some reason, the coaches don’t seem to mind – maybe because he makes an incredible substitute for Gyuvin in a pinch. The last time the backstroker twisted his ankle before a competition, while he himself was absolutely distraught, Ricky ended up winning the gold medal in his place and even breaking the previous record for the entire league in their category. So, the eclectic transfer student is allowed to do just about whatever he wants to.

“Jiwoong-nim?” Taerae redirects the proverbial microphone back to the other coach to address the group, while varied gasps and murmurs are exchanged among them. Even Gyuvin stops in the middle of his lap to stare bug-eyed at Ricky, his jaw agape.

A new member of the swim team? Hanbin doesn’t totally oppose it. Of the group, he’s definitely the most welcoming and adaptable to new people and situations (okay, maybe just barely passed by Matthew, who’s essentially a walking ray of sunshine). However, even he is not immune to a tiny touch of worried thoughts. What if the newcomer doesn’t get along with everyone? Ricky was the last to join them, and luckily that went alright despite some of his diva tendencies; though, it could’ve gone way differently if Gyuvin hadn’t immediately acquired a kind of (frankly crush-like) obsession with him and convinced the others that he was, quote: “Actually really sweet, just has a fancy vibe.” Which turned out to be true – Ricky is a total sweetheart beneath his chaebol exterior.

Jiwoong stands with a sigh, his lips curling up. “Guys, guys, let’s settle down,” he pleads, and they comply. “This guy’s another foreign transfer student, and he’s apparently good. Really good. You’re already aware of how great Matthew and Ricky had to be to make it here, right? Since we are famous for our swim team, well, this kid, he’s got chops. Scored first in all of China.”

Having freshly finished his lap, Gyuvin crosses back over to their side of the pool and raises his hand to speak even though it’s unnecessary, his unbelievably long arm waving frantically in the air. “Excuse me, Jiwoong-hyung, but. First in, like, what?”

“Everything!” Jiwoong’s grin spreads wide. “First, in everything. In the whole nation. And China’s huge, right Rick?” Though Ricky’s actually from Los Angeles, USA, much of his family still resides in China.

Everyone turns to Ricky, who appears as if all the blood has drained from his face. “B-big. It’s big. Massive. Are you… sure? He’s joining our team?” The shock makes the typically eloquent guy stumble over his second language.

Hanbin gulps reflexively. Suddenly, he’s feeling a little faint, himself.

They have been needing someone to replace Taerae since he retired this past year from competing due to back problems, that much is true. And Sung Hanbin is nice. So nice! He swears he’s a nice guy. Kind to everyone he comes across, almost to a fault. But beneath the worry that his teammates won’t get along with the new guy lies an even deeper, even less becoming feeling in Hanbin’s gut: what if this hotshot is better than him, and takes over his records? It’s not like Hanbin is easy to replace, but wow. First place in all of China, every single province…? No, no, that’ll never happen. It’s okay, Hanbin. You’re the best. You’ll always be the best. He repeats it over and over like a mantra to calm himself down.

It’s not something he’s proud of: this eternal, unrelenting need to be at the top and stay there. In fact, it’s one of the darkest parts of himself. The thing he’s most ashamed of. On the outside, he’s patting his friends on the shoulders after every attempt to surpass him, telling them, “That was so close, I’m sure you’ll catch me next time!” And he’s happy for them when they succeed, he swears he is.

But at the end of the day, Hanbin needs to win. He needs to be perfect. Not a want, but a need. So, he works and works, practicing overtime until he can hardly breathe, until his muscles give out. Which they’ve started to – he’s already gotten a bad right elbow from putting in too many hours perfecting his butterfly, getting his time down to one that could (and will) take him straight to the Olympic games. He’s the only one on the team who even specializes in the stroke. And if he were to lose that highly sought-after spot in the competition? Well. The overly competitive swimmer would prefer not to ever think about what he’d do.

So, he turns off his brain for the rest of practice.

Jiwoong says some other things, and though it’s very uncharacteristic of him not to listen to his coaches, Hanbin doesn’t hear them. When they start their training, he simply goes through the motions, lost in his own head. Even the constant, pestering ache of his elbow doesn’t register. The sound of the whistle at the end of each lap is muted, and his movements aren’t thought through. He’s on autopilot, and can’t seem to shake this overwhelming, ominous feeling.

The feeling like nothing’s going to be the same ever again.

While Matthew and the maknae of the team, Han Yujin – a seventeen year old trainee with such adept skills that they recruited him straight out of high school – work on their diving techniques, the rest of the team takes a well-deserved break at the end of practice by the pool. They chomp on snacks and chug electrolytes as they shoot the breeze; all except for Hanbin, who’s not mentally present.

“You alright, Hanbin-hyung? You seem weird.” Gunwook scooches in beside Hanbin where he’s zoning out, staring at his reflection in the water and half-mindedly rubbing his elbow. It startles him to hear his name, so he jumps a bit at the question.

“Oh, yeah!” He forces a smile. The last thing he’d ever wanna do is show a bad side of himself to the friends who look up to him most. “Don’t worry, just a rough day. You know, my arm…” It’s not exactly a lie. Lately, every day has unfortunately become a painful one, no matter how much ice and hot patches he applies, or injections the doctor orders. It’s taken a toll on him not only physically, but mentally as well; Gunwook doesn’t need to know that it’s not the only reason Hanbin’s brain has turned to mush.

“You know, Rwicky-hyung here, my Rwicky,” Gyuvin pulls on the red-haired man’s arm, but he jerks away immediately. He hasn’t known what to do with Gyuvin’s strange and sudden obsession with him, and that much is evident in every push and pull between them. Shen Ricky definitely doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s used to getting a pet name given to him against his will. “He is, like, sooo good at giving massages, right Rwick? My spine was hurting the other day, and he-”

“Gyuvin. I wouldn’t call pushing you into the pool a ‘massage,’ exactly.” Ricky is laid out on the bleachers with some trendy art book in hand, pushing sunglasses (he’s wearing inside, for whatever reason) up his nose. He playfully slaps Gyuvin’s hand off of his designer button-up. “And I’d rather my Versace stay dry, thanks!”

Okay, so Ricky is a total sweetheart to everyone… that is, besides Kim Gyuvin. The way Hanbin sees it, it’s like a never ending game of hard-to-get between a cat and an overenthusiastic golden retriever. He can tell the foreigner loves Gyuvin just as much right back, he just goes about showing it in a very strange way. Like, in how Gyuvin never once has used honorifics with him; but then again, they don’t really use honorifics where Ricky’s from in America at all, so. There is that.

“It’s okay, guys, I’m fine! I’m getting another round of injections on Sunday morning, which should help. Don’t worry about me,” Hanbin deflects the conversation from his injury, as usual. “Worry about getting your time down in the two-hundred meter relay instead, yeah?”

Gyuvin giggles and sticks out his tongue. The whole lot of them are always poking fun at one another for this and that. All in the name of good fun and competitive spirit.

“Hey, Hanbin-ah!” Jiwoong’s voice cuts through the chatter of their banter. “Come here for a second.”

Not thinking much of it, Hanbin pushes himself up to stand with his good arm and makes his way over to where Jiwoong and Taerae are seemingly in discussions across the pool room, standing away from everyone else.

A towel is draped over his shoulders and water droplets run down his defined pectorals, abdominals, and smoothly shaved arms and legs as he walks, hitting the tile floor. When he approaches his coaches, it’s a little offputting how quiet they become. “Hyung-nims, what’s up? Sorry about being a little spacey today, my elbow’s being a pain.”

Assistant Coach Taerae speaks in a stern whisper. “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about-”

“What Taerae-nim means is,” Coach Jiwoong takes over his sentence to soften its blow. “We just were wondering if you’d consider this new guy as your alternate. You know, for the butterfly.” Jiwoong seems to notice Hanbin’s face immediately souring. “No one else can do it like you can, we know that. Also, his province in Fujian was a bit weird about sending records over, so we’re not even exactly certain of what his strengths and weaknesses are, but! What we do know about this kid from what we’ve heard is that he’s fast.”

Hanbin’s stomach drops. “I don’t know what to say.” It would be one thing if another one of his teammates were to be his back-up, just in case he ever needed it. But a total stranger? It’s hard to imagine letting his pride take the backseat. He knows that it needs to, though. He knows it’s the right thing to do. Nobody is invincible, and for all he knows, maybe this dude from China is alright. It makes sense to give the fresh meat a chance… but why does the idea of it sort of pain him?

The corners of his mouth raise slightly. “Okay. I hope I can be a reliable hyung and mentor to the new team member!” He salutes to fake a lighthearted spirit and is pleased when it works and the coaches laugh.

“We’re just asking you to consider it! But, by the way…” Jiwoong looks at Taerae before turning back to face Hanbin. “He’s actually older than you. Another fourth-year.”

Hanbin’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, is that so? Well. Hope he knows he’s got competition coming his way!” His toothy smile makes the whiskery dimples in his cheeks stand out.

Taerae gestures toward the door. “Actually, you can tell him yourself.”

All of a sudden, it swings open. Everyone stops what they’re doing.

Whoa.

Into the room glides a man about Hanbin’s height. The mop of hair on his head is also strangely similar to Hanbin’s: the same shade of chestnut brown, but with a giant pair of headphones settled atop it. A baggy, oversized, grey zip-up hoodie swallows the top half of his body whole, his long, slender legs wrapped in the same sort of full-length jammer pants that Gunwook wears as well. But where Gunwook’s bear purple accents to match his own hair color, the newcomer’s are a pastel pink. Across his body lies a leather bag strap, and the bag itself looks hip, probably some trendy Japanese brand. Hanbin notices there are cute little plush charms hanging off of it, which is sort of his thing, too. Maybe that would be something he could relate with him on? A starting point in their friendship, hopefully. Hanbin’s pretty good at making friends, though, and likely won’t have any trouble getting him to open up. If nothing else, they always have competitive swimming.

As the newcomer draws closer, features of his face become more clear. A mole under his eye. Another one on his opposite cheek. They’re pretty.

Hanbin’s observations are cut short by Matthew, who just executed two and a half somersaults in midair, approaching the new kid from right out of the pool, dripping wet. He speaks loudly at him, “Hey, I’m Matthew! Welcome to the squad! And you’re…”

The new guy’s face is completely blank. He sort of just blinks at him. Then his brows raise, and he pulls his headphones off to reveal a set of slightly larger than average-sized ears. “Oh, I’m sorry. Loud music, you know…” His voice is low, but has a sort of lilt to it, almost like he’s singing. And for someone not from here, his Korean is quite impressive; really impressive, actually. Hanbin imagines he, himself, probably looks stupid to the guy right now, standing there looking like a wet dog across the pool. “What did you say?”

“Oh! Sorry dude, so,” Matthew’s clearly a little embarrassed. Snickers echo off the high ceiling from his teammates, especially Yujin, who’s right in front of them in the pool and therefore has a front row seat to witness his hyung’s mishap. “I’m Matthew, I’m a foreigner too! From Canada. And I asked your name!” He rubs the back of his neck bashfully. This new kid must really have quite the aura to make even Matthew act that way.

“Ah!” His sing-songy voice is really attractive to Hanbin’s ears. Really… lovely. “I’m Zhang Hao. The best swimmer in Fujian Province.” He shoves his headphones into his bag and holds out a hand. It all seems a little too formal. And a little, well. Cocky? “Oh, right. I’m supposed to ask for your age. I’m twenty-two, but turn twenty-three near the end of this month. I’m a Leo.”

Matthew definitely didn’t ask for his Western zodiac sign. Is this some cultural thing…? Wait, no. He’s Chinese, right? And there’s a whole other Chinese zodiac. Maybe it’s a trend on social media, or something. Or maybe it’s because Matthew said he’s Canadian? Either way, this Zhang Hao person is definitely an interesting specimen. Hanbin is instantly intrigued. He needs to know more.

Out of the blue, amidst the awkward silence following their exchange, Jiwoong gives Hanbin a little push in the newbie’s direction between his shoulder blades. “You’re the captain,” he mutters in Hanbin’s ear. Oh, right. He should go introduce himself and greet Zhang Hao-ssi to the team. Be welcoming. Something he always does with newbies. But why is he feeling a bit uncharacteristically nervous this time around?

Pink flush starts on Hanbin’s ears and spreads throughout his body in mere seconds flat. And, great; now, he’s become a tomato. What a perfect first impression. Hanbin has to mentally hype himself up before finally walking over, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. He overhears Matthew sharing his own age with his new teammate and jumps the gun right away, butting into their conversation and accidentally interrupting Zhang Hao mid-sentence. Oops.

“Hi! I’m Sung Hanbin, captain of the team. Twenty-one– wait, no, I’m twenty-two now, twenty-two.” He stumbles and trips over his words as Zhang Hao’s fierce gaze slices through him like a knife into butter. “I mean, I just turned twenty-two recently, you know? June thirteenth. I keep forgetting. Isn’t that funny, Hao-hyung? Oh, wait! Can I call you that? I’m sorry…!” He chuckles nervously, looking (and feeling) like he’s about to cry. Matthew graciously pats him on the back out of pity. Zhang Hao’s piercing stare is unrelenting as he only nods in response, like he’s studying every single aspect of Hanbin one by one. It’s a little intimidating. Okay; very intimidating. The swim team captain’s suspicion regarding the new guy’s aura is turning out to be even more true than he’d thought possible.

If Hanbin was a fish in water, then Zhang Hao was a shark, ready to swallow him whole.

For some reason, the air feels tense, silence lingering on it a touch too long for comfort. Hanbin isn’t accustomed to being perceived so awkwardly – not by companion, nor predator. He’s, like, the textbook definition of a social butterfly.

Matthew seems made uncomfortable by the odd interaction, so he swoops in to save his best friend. “What Hanbin-hyung is trying to say is, welcome to the team! You know, this guy here holds the record above the rest of us in every single stroke. Thanks to him, we’ve never gotten less than silver at a swim meet! Isn’t that right, hyung?”

Hanbin nods half-heartedly, but he can feel his chest burning hot as the flush only deepens, and it’s distracting. You’re Sung Hanbin. You’re the best. You’re the best. The voice in his head repeats this once more, and thank god. It does the trick, granting him a crumb of his confidence back. Quickly, he shakes his head out of embarrassment. “Yeah! Heard you’re a hotshot where you’re from, right? Hao-hyung?”

“Only first place. Not that it’s a big deal, or anything.” The corner of his mouth raises. The captain is fairly certain that Zhang Hao is taunting him now.

However, Hanbin doesn’t let it phase him this time. “So you’re really that fast, then?”

“Faster than you, Hanbin-ssi,” Zhang Hao shoots back spitfire. He doesn’t even blink. The guy’s got attitude for days, and seems to be reaching deep into Hanbin’s soul with his stare and use of honorifics, not to mention that self-satisfied smirk. It’s daunting as hell, but there’s something Hanbin likes about it. Someone his energy reminds him of, maybe. He just can’t put his finger on who, or why.

The entire room erupts into one long, “Ooooooh,” egging them on. Does this Zhang Hao person seriously want a race? What is this, a corny teen movie?

Hanbin chuckles, trying to persevere with an air of coolness, even if he knows the tips of his ears are betraying him. “If you wanted to get beaten today, you could’ve just said so. However,” there’s an eyelash on Zhang Hao’s face, and it’s bothering him, so he picks it off and blows it away without letting him make a wish. Ha! That’ll show him. “I have to save my energy for actual training. Bad arm.” His towel falls when he holds out his arm, exposing his entire upper half.

Now, Zhang Hao looks like he definitely wants to eat him alive. He’s not sure whether it’s a good or bad thing.

“Don’t regret what you do,” Zhang Hao reads the words of Hanbin’s inner bicep tattoo out loud in English and reaches toward it, his long, slender finger lightly running atop the ink pushed into his skin. “Adorable.” Hanbin can’t tell if he means it, or if he’s teasing him further. Likely the latter. Man, this guy’s hard to read.

Hanbin laughs, and Zhang Hao’s eyes scan his torso. Mentally comparing the muscles with his own to size him up, perhaps? Hao then exhales dramatically. “That’s a shame.” He turns to face the rest of the guys, who are scattered about, talking low amongst themselves. Likely wondering how this guy has the nerve to speak to their Hanbin-hyung that way. But again, Hanbin himself sort of enjoys the push and pull of tension between them. “Who wants a try at beating me? I know practice is over, but I’ve already got my gear on. Might as well use it.”

Hanbin eyes Coaches Jiwoong and Taerae with a raised brow. Shouldn’t one of them be stepping in and putting a stop to this right about now?

“Well I, for one, think it’s a great idea!” Taerae speaks up. Oh. “I mean, it would be nice to see what he’s capable of, right?” He glances at Jiwoong, who nods his head.

“Right, I don’t see why not! A little friendly race never hurt anyone.” The coach actually agrees. Hanbin’s shocked that they’re on board with it, but his curiosity overcomes his need to be the voice of reason. He also wants to see what Zhang Hao can do.

“Perfect! Who’s in?” Zhang Hao strides with confidence over to the bleachers where all the guys are sat now, removes his bag from over his head and sets it down. Kicking off his slides, he unzips his hoodie.

Hanbin isn’t sure why, but he can’t move. He’s just sort of stuck standing in place. Frozen.

On a totally, completely unrelated note, Zhang Hao turns out to be… built. Like, extremely built. Somehow he’s slimmer than any of them, yet with pecs that rival Hanbin’s, and the most pronounced six-pack Hanbin’s seen – well, besides his own. His waist is small enough to wrap two hands all the way around, and he’s got two prominent lines leading right down–

“Me! I’ll do it!” Wherever Hanbin’s thoughts were going, they’re cut off by Gyuvin jumping up from his seat and staggering over several rows of bleachers toward the self-assured newcomer while holding his hand out for a friendly shake. When Zhang Hao grabs it, his eager teammate shakes way too erratically to where it jostles Hao’s entire body as if made of jello. Hanbin is still just… staring.

“Okay, what are you best at?” Zhang Hao asks, doing some arm stretches that really cause his back muscles to ripple while making his way over to the starting blocks.

Hanbin continues to watch on and say nothing. Has the cat got his tongue, or what?

“Backstroke. Is that cool?” Gyuvin mimics Zhang Hao’s stretches goofily as he approaches his own block.

“Oh, sure. Why not? It’s not my best, but I’ll still win.” The vibe of indifference with every word out of Zhang Hao’s mouth is captivating, to Hanbin. It’s as if he couldn’t be more unbothered by his opponent, despite Gyuvin’s clear physical advantages. Why does it feel like I know this guy?. Familiarity tickles at him again, an itch he can’t quite scratch.

Hao bends down to hop in the pool and take his mark, his glutes flexing with the movement, stuck out in midair. There’s definitely no thoughts in Hanbin’s brain about it. Nope. Totally empty. Moving on! Gyuvin does the same, an apprehensive tension apparent in his knitted brows before tugging his goggles down from beneath his tousled bangs and over his eyes.

Meanwhile, Zhang Hao is smiling. Smiling. Really? Right now? Hanging in the balance between either impressing or making a total embarrassment of himself in front of a bunch of strangers he’s going to have to spend at least the next year of his life with? Wow. This guy’s got guts. Hanbin doesn’t know whether it’s enchanting, or a little scary. Maybe both.

Coach Jiwoong steps closer to the pool once the two are fully settled into their starting positions, bodies hanging halfway above the water. Any chit-chat that has been taking place beside Hanbin in the stands from their teammates quiets down to complete silence in anticipation of the match. Gyuvin has won many gold medals for his backstroke over the past year. If anyone can beat Zhang Hao, it’s him. Well- or of course, Hanbin, but that needs not be said. “Alright, we’re gonna keep this simple, just a quick hundred meter dash. Are you ready?”

Zhang Hao nods, his smile at once morphing into a thin line of concentration, thick brows burrowed so close they almost touch. His fingers grip the edge of the starting block’s handles so hard his knuckles whiten. Just from his form, Hanbin can already sense that he has a good chance. When one has enough experience in competitive swimming, they can just tell that sort of thing. And a competitor like Sung Hanbin can eye a starting position up and down and be able to tell immediately whether or not someone has got what it takes to win.

And Zhang Hao’s form is immaculate, impeccable. He tries to find fault – searches every curve of his spine, every angle of his limbs, every prominent vein protruding from his flexed biceps and forearms – but comes up empty. He’s the real deal.

Hanbin’s heart jumps when, in the middle of his observations, Jiwoong blows the whistle loudly enough to ring in his ears for seconds after.

And just like that, they’re off.

Noise instantly erupts throughout the room at the drop of a pin, a combination of cheers from the stands and splashes as both bodies penetrate the water, diving backwards and kicking off of the wall as hard as they each can to get the superior advantage for the first leg of the race. Hanbin’s eyes are fixated on the newbie: how his form flies through the humid air with practiced perfection, how he manages to get an entire five meter advantage on his opponent with just that alone. How his hands and feet stay firmly pressed together until he reaches the backstroke point, enough strength in his surprisingly slender legs to carry him forward with power and precision.

Cries of, “Let’s go Gyub!!!” and, “Fighting Gyuvin!!!!” are exclaimed as all five of his fellow athletes rise to their feet to get the best look at what’s going on. Hanbin watches closely but doesn’t say a word, the commentary in his head too loud for distractions. He concentrates on the match, making sure not to miss a single detail.

Gyuvin is at a slight disadvantage now thanks to the other guy’s incredible start, but with the speed of his backstroke and the sheer length of his limbs, he can easily catch up.

No matter how hard he tries, Hanbin just can’t seem to be able to keep focus on Gyuvin, who’s supposed to be one of his best friends, a beloved younger brother. His eyes keep darting to his new teammate, instead. He can’t help himself, though; the temptation is too much to withstand.

The way Hao’s arms cut through the water is hypnotic, almost as if he’s gliding and not doing any real work at all. Despite the demanding nature of this sport, his style in the water is akin to his demeanor on land – graceful and unwavering. Like it’s so easy. As if he could do this all day and never grow tired. Maybe a little bored, if anything. Once he reaches the end of the pool almost an entire ten meters ahead of his competitor, the ease with which Hao somersaults underwater and heads back in the other direction makes Hanbin feel as though he wouldn’t be surprised if the newcomer even yawned. That’s how simple he makes something so incredibly difficult feel just by watching. The swim captain’s never seen anything like it outside of an Olympic stadium. Or, has he…? Somehow, again, this man’s energy feels familiar.

At this point, Hanbin can sense Gyuvin beginning to get down on himself. His movements become sloppy – a total no-no in competitive swimming. His somersault is rushed, barely even a full turn underwater, his kick off the wall clumsy and, frankly, a little painful to watch. So, Hanbin turns his eyes back to the newbie, who’s now barely kicking, his arms leisurely floating through the air, not a care in the world. Sun filters in through the large windows in the vaulted ceiling, the light of it catching and shimmering on the swimmer’s golden skin as it moves through the pool, like a magnificent mermaid that’s lost its tail. There’s no other word Hanbin can think to describe it but downright mesmerizing.

The situation becomes more intense as the men enter the final twenty meters of the race, seconds feeling more like hours as Gyuvin works incredibly hard to make up for lost ground. His chest palpates with labored breaths, arms flailing in the air with desperation. The cheers on the sidelines grow more desperate, too, anxiety forming where hope once was.

“GO ZHANG HAO!”

Oh my god. Who said that…?

Wait a second. That came out of his own mouth. It was me. Why did he say that? Shit.

“Oh. Uh…” Hanbin glances at his swim team, prepared to do major damage control after accidentally cheering for his poor dongsaeng’s opponent. But luckily, it appears they’re all so wrapped up in the match now, screaming encouragement to Gyuvin that it doesn’t seem as though anyone noticed Hanbin’s unfortunate little mistake. Phew. He fidgets with his hands out of discomfort and turns his attention back to the final stretch of the match.

Maybe he imagines it, but he could swear the corner of Zhang Hao’s mouth curls into a gentle smile. Though it’s probably just his nerves playing tricks on him. There’s no way the man could’ve heard his voice above the rest of the ruckus, not unless he was really listening for it. Hanbin feels stupid immediately for even considering that some guy he just met would be paying attention to him mid-race. It’s silly. So, so silly. What’s wrong with you? Focus! Your friend is losing!!

Oops.

No one’s swimming anymore. The match already ended, and he hadn’t even noticed.

Had he really zoned out to that extent? By the time he realizes, Yujin, Gunwook, Ricky, and Matthew all have already sprinted down to the pool, crowding the two men crouched down poolside where they’re recovering from the race. Guess I better go join them.

There’s not a question in his mind as to who won, unfortunately for his pal. Being careful not to slip on the tiles since he’s still barefoot and wet from practice, Hanbin walks over toward the others and notices that, while poor Gyuvin is huffing and puffing, struggling desperately to catch his breath, Zhang Hao is completely calm and composed. If this were a swim meet, the men would be patting Gyuvin on the back out of defeat, downtrodden murmurs of, “Good try,” and, “It’s alright, bud. You worked hard.” However, the mood is markedly different: smiles and laughter abound. And while yes, they are encouraging Gyuvin too, the guys seem to be showing their friend’s opponent just as much attention, if not more.

When Hanbin approaches, Gunwook is firmly holding Zhang Hao by both shoulders and shaking him back and forth in his grip. “Whoa!! That was amazing! I can’t believe you made that look so easy!”

Zhang Hao just lets him do it, too. Not only that, but he’s… grinning? His smile is so endearing, in fact, that Hanbin can’t seem to look away from it. The newcomer’s icy air of indifference has seemingly shattered, at least temporarily, as his newfound swim team gives him hugs, head pats, rubs his back in awe of his skills. Something in Hanbin beckons him to take over, tell them to step away so that he can give Zhang Hao a proper congratulations, himself. But hold on, he just met the guy… that would be weird, wouldn’t it?

“Hey! Hao-hyung!” Hanbin lightly shoulders Ricky away just as he’s about to speak to the foreigner. Sure, they both have the same mother-land and probably have a lot to talk about, but Hanbin should be able to go first. He’s the team captain and their hyung, so it’s only fair, right? Others can wait. “Your form is seriously, seriously beautiful. It was all so beautiful.” He’s not sure what the appropriate skinship is to have with this guy, and in the moment, settles on reaching a hand out and placing a flat palm on his cheek. Though, he’s not totally sure why his palms are suddenly so sweaty. Luckily, he can blame it on the water – it’s a pool, after all.

For a split second, Zhang Hao leans into the touch. But shortly after, he jerks his head away, like a reflexive response. His eyes flicker with something Hanbin isn’t certain of. Confusion? Did he make the wrong decision after all, then? Was it a little too much, too soon after they met? Damn it, Hanbin. His hand awkwardly retracts from where it hangs in the air, and it’s a bit shameful since everyone else bears witness to it, strange looks on their faces. They’ve never really seen their hyung like this before, his attempts to bond with a teammate rejected.

Thankfully, Gyuvin’s lungs finally catch up to him just in time to break the sudden tension. “Zhaeng Hae-o hyung, you are SO COOL!” Zhang Hao looks absolutely terrified when Gyuvin’s gigantic, looming self spreads his lengthy arms wide and completely smothers him in such a tight hug that it actually lifts the winner’s entire body off the floor of the pool. However, he melts into the squeeze after a few seconds, going limp like putty in the younger’s arms, a tiny grin lifting the rounds of his cheeks.

Oh, so that’s okay, but a little friendly hand on the face is too much? Whatever.

It appears as though Zhang Hao may not be warming up to Hanbin quite as easily as he is with the rest of the team. Which, admittedly, is not something that Hanbin is used to. Not like he’d say himself that he’s always been the most popular guy at school, or anything, but. Come on! He won Prom King every year of high school – even as an underclassmen! He even won Most Popular in the school yearbook, as well. And while it’s not the end of the freaking world to not be immediately embraced by one person out of everyone he’s ever met, it’s still foreign to the likeable swim captain; a sour, unpleasant feeling in his gut, like the sundubu jjigae that he ate last week after sitting out all day in the July heat. It’s fine. Can’t be everybody’s cup of tea, I guess.

Even though the relationship is brand new, he really wanted it to get off on the right foot. There’s something about Zhang Hao that draws him in, makes him ever so curious to learn more.

Hanbin observes from the sidelines, quietly drying his hair with a towel while Hao’s personality unfolds like a flower’s petals before his eyes. Despite his unwavering vanity, Hao-hyung is also a sweetheart – giving gentle pointers to Gyuvin on how to increase his speed, splashing and chasing Matthew around the pool, praising Yujin for his flawless double somersault and even tousling his hair – the most baffling contradiction Hanbin’s ever seen.

When the analog clock on the wall strikes eight, the coaches announce that they must leave, as their time slot allotted to use the pool that evening is up. And as they all climb out of the water, Hanbin still keeping a close eye on the mysterious newcomer bidding goodbye to his latest besties and giving out increasing amounts of skinship, a shocking discovery comes to him, without warning.

Oh, great. The person Hao reminds him so much of? It’s himself.

So, naturally, when Hao-hyung leaves and only spares him the slightest glance back, Hanbin makes a personal vow, and only feels slightly pitiful for it.

I’m going to find a way to make him like me. I swear it.

A hazy Sung Hanbin rudely awakens to the heavy drone of his roommate’s blender gnawing at his eardrums. The air is dense with humidity, the shitty AC unit in their shared campus housing working overtime to try and reach his room, but only somewhat succeeding. He knows he should invest in a window unit, but it’s not exactly within his budget at the moment - swim training eats up his free time so severely that juggling a job on top of that and his classes would prove downright insufferable, even just part-time. So, to pay for his car along with other expenses, he’s only hanging on by the threads of his college fund, whatever extra cash relatives are generous enough to send him every now and again, and prayers.

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Hanbin clumsily stalks his way to the kitchen, the band of his grey sweatpants resting low on his hips. Eyes barely open and hair sticking out in comical directions, he grabs a ceramic mug from the cabinet, clutches the handle of the pot of coffee already prepared by Matthew earlier that morning, and pours. The offensive noise of the blender finally stops.

“Morning, Hanbin-hyung! There are pancakes in the microwave if you want some. Only a little burnt this time! I’m getting better!!”

His poor roommate can never quite get his culinary skills up to quality, no matter how much he enjoys cooking. Hanbin usually just picks at the innermost parts of whatever he makes, where it’s least charred. Hopefully his friend doesn’t notice the pile of burnt pancake bits beneath their kitchen window. He thought it would be a nice gesture for the birds, but woefully, they don’t seem to have developed a taste for blackened breakfast cuisine, either. He takes a sip of the coffee, which also tastes a little burnt. It’s the thought that counts.

“Perfect, thanks Mattie! I’m starving.” He retrieves them from the microwave, grabs a fork, and takes his usual seat at their modest, second-hand kitchen table – the closest spot to the window, of course.

Matthew is already dressed for the day, a plain, white tank peeking out from beneath his black hoodie, paired with matching sweatpants. It’s Saturday, which means their team starts practice early in the day and doesn’t wrap up until around six in the evening. As the elite team from Korea’s National Sport University, they must eat, sleep, and breathe chlorine to maintain the level they’re at. Once that’s over, Hanbin will likely devote the rest of his evening to studies, maybe watch a movie with Matt and a couple of their friends if they have time. Though, he’s a bit behind at the moment, seeing as they’ve been practicing extra to anticipate the upcoming swim meet, a prerequisite to determine which local team will be pushed forward to the championships.

“So. What do you think of the new guy, hyung? Seems legit, right?” When Matt turns around to grab his duffel bag off a dining room chair, Hanbin works swiftly, whipping around to crack open the window behind him and shoving overcooked pancake through the sliver to join the graveyard of its comrades in the grass below.

When his roommate turns back around, Hanbin is pretending to gobble down the food he made. Score. Yet another day he hasn’t noticed the window trick. Oh, right. Hao-hyung. “Yeah, I don’t know. Sure.” He’s not so enthusiastic after yesterday’s entire awkwardness. It’s not that he doesn’t like Hao – quite the contrary! He really, really wants to be his friend. Really. No matter how fierce their shared competitiveness is. If anything, that makes him want it even more. You know what they say: keep your friends close and your enemies closer, or whatever.

“‘Sure,’ huh?” Matthew tsks. “Hyung, I’ve never seen you like that! All weird and red and smiley. You know you were looking at him sort of crazy, right?”

Shit. Did Zhang Hao notice, too? Does he think he’s some sort of pathetic freak now? The swim captain is stumped. Why did he even act that way?

“Whatever. It was just a weird day, that’s all. I think I was overheated from practice,” he shrugs, like it’s not eating at him (even though it definitely is).

Matthew laughs and walks toward the front door, grabbing his keys off the counter. While he’s faced away, Hanbin seizes the opportunity to dispose of more chunks out the window. Good thing his friend is a little oblivious. “You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the possibility that he might swim faster than you?”

Okay, so maybe not so oblivious.

“Seriously? Come on, Mattie! What kind of team captain do you think I am?” He definitely didn’t have that exact thought. Nope. Definitely didn’t have dreams the night prior of locking Zhang Hao in their rec room basement just to make him miss the prelimaries, either. “Plus, he’s on our team. I’d be happy, if anything. Better chances of us winning the championship!”

Matthew rolls his eyes, giggling knowingly. “Whatever you say, hyung! I’m heading to the gym before practice. Catch you later!” Okay, so maybe the rest of the team doesn’t see Hanbin’s dark side, but he does spend a significant amount of time around Matthew. That’s his best friend, after all. Of course he knows him better than the others. He opens the front door, all his belongings hanging off his shoulder in the packed duffle bag.

“Bye, Mattie!” Hanbin waves him off, and as soon as the door closes, he tosses the rest of his uneaten, black flapjacks directly out the window before closing it once and for all.

You know, for his birthday this year, maybe I should buy him some cooking classes.

Hanbin notes that the air is particularly moist when he steps out of his aged but still-reliable Kia Sorento, fetching his backpack and leather bag from the passenger seat before slamming the door shut. He locks the doors with a click of his fob and makes his way up the paved steps to the college’s recreation building, unzipping his tracksuit jacket due to the July heat and revealing a black tank beneath, cut just low enough to display the tattoo between his collarbones.

“Hey! Hanbin-hyung, wait up!!” Just as he reaches for the door, his tall friend Gyuvin gallops up the stairs to catch up, tackling three steps at a time with the incredible length of his legs. Panting when he arrives, he immediately brings up exactly who Hanbin didn’t want to talk about. “Did you see Hao-hyung yesterday?! Cool, right? I think I might marry him. Really!!”

Hanbin stops in his tracks. “Really?”

Gyuvin’s brows furrow incredulously. “No, not really. I was kidding. Hello!” He knocks on Hanbin’s skull like a door. “Earth to hyung!!!”

Hanbin instantly relaxes. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he keeps it moving toward the door of the shower room. “Yeah, he’s pretty good! If you’re into that sort of technique, I mean.” Mildly irked but still keeping up his usual extra-friendly facade, he enters the room and approaches his locker, opening the padlock and shoving his belongings in while Gyuvin does the same beside him.

“Huh? But his form looked just like y–”

“Gyuvin-ah!” Hanbin does a hand motion signalling to zip his lips. “Less talky, more changey!” Though his voice is upbeat, the annoyance is turning his chest pink again. Awesome.

Once they’ve all arrived and changed, the team enters the pool room two at a time and hops into the water to get their hair wet. While stretching, Hanbin has a conversation with Matt about the movie they saw last weekend that’s less of a conversation, more of just Matt talking at him as he only half-listens in – his eyes and mind are elsewhere.

Ricky, Gyuvin, and the newest occupant of Hanbin’s thoughts are laughing loudly at the other end of the pool about god-knows-what. Hao’s cackle is obnoxious yet endearing, little wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes and a set of perfectly aligned teeth glowing in the light reflecting off the water. He watches the older man pause his arm stretch to clutch his relaxed tummy, which has a little softness to it. Kind of cute.

“Hyung?” A hand waves in front of Hanbin’s eyes, bringing him back to the person he’s supposed to be paying mind to. “Are you even listening?” Matt’s not mad, though – in fact, the little shimmer in his eye and pull at the corner of his mouth reveal amusement. “Why don’t you get closer to him?”

“Hm?”

Matt chuckles. “He doesn’t bite, you know. He’s really sweet. You should go try to talk to him again.”

“What?” Hanbin doesn’t know what to say. Was his staring that obvious?

Continuing to laugh, his roommate leans closer to him before dropping his volume low. “You’ve been studying him like a book since the moment he walked in yesterday, hyung. Just swim over and say something. I bet you two have so much in common!”

Maybe he’s right. It’s true that their form is similar, as much as Hanbin hates to admit it. And there’s that whole being the best at everything thing, too. Who knows what else they share? This could be the start of something great… that is, if he can manage to break the ice without making himself look like a total loser (again).

Just as Hanbin’s about to ease on over, assistant Coach Taerae enters the room, blowing the whistle to effectively signal the start of practice. It’s slightly relieving since he didn’t know what the hell to say to Hao anyway, saving him from another sad display of attempts at friendship.

“Alright guys,” Taerae begins. “Start some hundred meter laps. Except for Zhang Hao and Hanbin – you two, come here for a minute.”

Did he hear that right? “Huh? Me?” Hanbin’s eyes dart to Coach Jiwoong, who nods in a way that tells him it’s not because he did anything wrong. Phew. That’s good, at least. Next, amongst the groaning others, he seeks Hao out and finds he’s already exiting the pool, the contours of his triceps protruding as he puts all his weight onto his arms to propel his body up and out. Hanbin wades over to do the same, but when he tests it, an ache in his elbow reminds him of his injury. Better not. He eases back into the pool of water, nudging at it with a wince.

“Here.” A low, calm voice speaks. Suddenly, there’s a hand in his face, long fingers open and beckoning to be used as a support.

“Hao-hyung?” The face staring down at him with an indiscernible look belongs to no other than he, pristinely plucked brows raised, perhaps in pity. He nods, and it brushes a strand of his hair into his eyeline.

Though he hesitates at first, as if this stranger is going to say “just kidding, sucker!” and push him back into the pool, Hanbin ultimately accepts the help after a moment of deciding the mere paranoia of it is silly. Placing his hand in the newbie’s palm and using it to hoist himself out, Hanbin rises to his feet upon reaching ground. They’re face to face for a split second and he opens his mouth to speak. However, that’s when Hao cuts off his thank you with a yank of his hand, pulling it out of Hanbin’s grasp, as if he hadn’t meant for it to be there in the first place. He then turns around and goes to the coaches ahead of Hanbin.

Strange. Hanbin’s a little perplexed by Hao. Okay, maybe a lot. It’s like he’s warm one moment and then cold the next. This one’s gonna be a tough nut to crack. He follows the mysterious stranger over a few steps behind, the scent of freshly-treated water lingering in the humid, stuffy atmosphere of the rec center.

“Hey, what’s up?” He addresses Coach Jiwoong first, a little scared of Taerae as always. He and Hao make brief eye contact, but Hao averts it swiftly.

“So,” Jiwoong lowers his voice, seemingly wanting to keep the conversation between the four of them private. “Hao-ssi- is it okay if I call you that?”

Hao nods, blinking slowly. His face is still totally unreadable. Hanbin really can’t get a grasp on him.

“Taerae-nim and I have been talking it over and wanted to see how you felt. Hanbin,” his gaze turns on him. “We know your chronic pain has been hard on you lately, and as we discussed yesterday, the two of us have decided it would be in your best interest to find a proper alternate in the case that your elbow causes you any further trouble.” Jiwoong reaches out and places one hand on each of their shoulders, addressing Hao next. “Hao-ssi, would you be willing to fill that spot for our Hanbin-ie?”

Oh, that’s right. The alternate thing. Hanbin had completely forgotten. They’re asking him already? The swim captain only nods, a bit in shock at the suddenness of it all.

“Sure.” Hao accepts so easily without even taking a moment to think it over. Hanbin looks to him, and Zhang Hao’s eye contact with the Coach is direct, unwavering. He seems so sure of it, and of himself. Hanbin’s never met someone else with such confidence in his ability.

“Wait-” Hanbin finds his voice, though he doesn’t know where he’s going with the sentence once he starts it. “I mean, don’t you think… I don’t know.” He feels he should attest to the idea, but can’t think of any solid reason to. “Hao-hyung, no offense, but. How good are you at butterfly, really? You know, not many people specialize in it because it takes a lot of additional training and is much harder than it seems to truly perfect.”

Hao’s thick brows furrow. That wasn’t something he wanted to hear, apparently. Hanbin doesn’t realize it came across as rude until it’s too late. He was just trying to be direct, but his inner cockiness sort of stepped in. All the sudden, Hanbin thinks his possible new alternate might be stabbing him in the gut with his mind.

“It’s no problem if he doesn’t,” Coach Taerae cuts in, sensing the heat coming off Hao’s head. “You can teach him. We can set it up so that you guys have reign of the gym for an hour or so after practice. We’re usually the last ones here, anyway. Only two teams use this place, after all.” Taerae glances at Coach Jiwoong to gauge his reaction.

“Perfect!” Jiwoong agrees. “Great idea. Hao-ssi, are you already adept at it, or would that be okay…? I know learning a new skill could be time-consuming, but you seem more than capable of-”

“That works for me.” He runs his fingers through his hair to slick it back out of his face. Hanbin is baffled by everything about this exchange. How easily he agrees to whatever, how sure he is that he can pull off the butterfly as well as Hanbin can before even knowing his ability.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Hanbin interjects. There’s no venom in his voice, as he’s careful this time not to prod Hao. So he uses an extra gentle tone with him, sounding more concerned than anything – though, secretly, his ego is definitely a bit bruised.

“I think I can manage.” Hao is still making eye contact with Coach Jiwoong instead of Hanbin. And by god, he’s sassy. Not mean, no, just… so, so sassy, even in his second language. The spunk of this guy. Hanbin can’t help but smile. As much as he wants to be mad, it’s just too amusing. Plus, this means he’ll get tons of one-on-one time to sway the newcomer his way and crack that nut, so to speak.

Okay, so maybe he can’t wait. Deep down, he knows he needs an alternate. And Hao seems like a decent contender, at the least.

“I’m sure he’ll be a quick learner,” Jiwoong assures Hanbin, with a grin. “Since our Hanbin-ie here is the swim captain, you two should get to know one another, anyway.” He adds to Hao, “He tends to do a lot to help us out, so. I think it would benefit you to get close to him since you’re new here. He’s sort of like the heart of our team. There isn’t a thing happening in any of the guys’ lives that he doesn’t know about, right Hanbin-ie?”

It’s true. He’s the main support for everyone, even when he, himself, is struggling. Hanbin is the first guy anyone calls when they wanna laugh, cry, vent, or what have you. He prides himself on that greatly, even if it can take a toll, at times. Anything he can do to help his friends out is worth the struggle.

Taerae claps his hands together. “So, it’s settled then!” The assistant Coach’s prominent dimples appear. “Hao, you’ve got the job. I’ll go call the rec center office and the local pool we utilize and make sure it’s okay to take that extra hour moving forward, but I’m certain they’ll agree. I actually…” Taerae’s grin spreads even wider. “May have already anticipated this and booked the pool for that extra hour today, so. If neither of you has anywhere else to be…?”

That sneaky devil. Taerae is the most Type T person ever. Hao and Hanbin exchange looks. Hanbin shrugs. There’s not really anything he has to do immediately after practice. Matthew can wait. And Hao literally just got here, so Hanbin assumes he likely hasn’t made any friends yet. Perfect opportunity for Hanbin to be his first.

“Nope, I’m free!” Hanbin’s whiskery dimples crinkle on his cheeks.

“I am, too.” He notices the corner of Hao’s mouth lifting as he surveys Hanbin’s features. Once again, Hanbin finds himself turning a deep scarlet when Hao finally pays him attention. Why does this keep happening…? He’s gonna need to start keeping ice packs on him, at this rate.

“Alright, go catch up to the others, off you go now.” Jiwoong shoos them away, giving Hanbin a friendly pat on the back as if to say, “I’m proud of you for accepting the help.” He knows how headstrong Hanbin is. This is a big deal for him.

Hanbin doesn’t dawdle, nodding before setting off for the pool with Hao not far behind him, climbing down the ladder and joining Matthew in his lane without a word.

In seven hours, I’ll get to spend some time alone with Zhang Hao-hyung. Seven little hours.

Most would consider seven hours a long time. But as the captain helps his coaches orchestrate their practice, Hao settling in easily amongst the others as if he’d been there from the beginning, Hanbin’s attention is mostly absent. Instead of keeping his focus on the sport, his mind runs through the possibilities of what he should or shouldn’t do or say to break the ice with his new hyung. But despite his efforts, once those seven hours are gone and the clock strikes six as the coaches dismiss them all for the night, Hanbin is still totally lacking any solid tactics. He’s clueless on what will make Zhang Hao open up. How does the most popular guy at uni (fine, he’s admitting it) suddenly feel so totally socially inept?

As each of his friends leaves for the shower room, they bid him goodbye with pats on the back and hugs, and Matthew yells that he’ll see him later. At least one of them had secretly eavesdropped in on their conversation with the coaches earlier, and the news of him and Hao’s lessons had spread to the entire team within an hour. Naturally, Hanbin’s team has the gossiping power of a bunch of catty ahjummas. Himself included.

Before he knows it, there isn’t a soul left in the room aside from him and Hao, whose legs are splayed out on the tile floor poolside as he lays flat, chugging an electrolyte drink. They’d just finished some cool-down laps to end out practice, as they always do, but Hao had not used them to cool down. Whilst everyone else took their time, lazily flapping their arms in the water, he pushed himself extraordinarily harder than the rest, not even slowing down once. He even kept going after half the team were long out of the pool and drying off, seemingly determined to finish his last fifty meters off before letting up. Hanbin doesn’t know whether that sort of steadfast intensity after seven straight hours of practice is more inspiring or terrifying. Actually, both; definitely both.

He pretends to look elsewhere as he sits on the bleachers sipping his own drink a few rows back, but sneaks glances of Hao’s muscular chest rising and falling with each labored breath, his tummy deflated and hip bones jutting out. His jammer pants are contoured closely to his long, thin legs, pink stripes doing a dance on the side to his thigh muscles flexing and contracting, over and over.

The upper half of Zhang Hao’s body moves all the sudden, his core strength lifting him into an upright position. He sets his drink down and whips his head Hanbin’s way, meeting his gaze. “What are you smiling at?”

Shit. He noticed. Wait- am I smiling? Hanbin immediately smooths out his mouth to a flat line. “What? Nothing, I’m not.” He jumps up, the towel that was cradled around his neck falling to the floor. Time to change the subject, and quickly. “Why didn’t you do a cool-down with the rest of us?” There we go. Got him.

“Because I never let myself get lazy at practice. That’s why I’m number one.” Damn. His Korean is really good, and really, really sassy. And, hold on – he actually said Hanbin’s name! That’s the first time, right? Hanbin instantly adores how it sounds with his accent. He wants to hear more. What can he say back that’ll keep Hao talking? Maybe a dose of his own medicine?

“Well, just because you tried hard doesn’t mean you did well, hyung,” Hanbin retorts, exuding the same level of spiciness right back. He steps down the bleachers, water dripping from his drenched hair and body as he goes. Stopping directly in front of Hao, standing between his spread legs, Hanbin reaches his good arm out and holds a palm open to help Hao to his feet the same way he had earlier. “So we should probably start your lesson now. You could use one!”

Hanbin puts on this brat act with his closest friends, sure, but it’s definitely not how he’d normally talk to someone who he just met within the past forty-eight hours. He hopes it’s the right choice.

A playful incredulousness takes over Hao’s face, the tops of his cheeks rounding out like tiny oranges. Bingo. “Says you, the guy who needed help getting out of the pool!” He firmly grabs his hand, accepting the olive branch and rising to face his new teacher. This close, Hanbin notices all the details of his face that he hadn’t before. Glossy lips. Smile lines. Mischievous eyes. Really, he’s hoping to find a flaw, but it seems there are none. “So, we should probably get this lesson started, right? Or do you just wanna stare at me all day? I don’t mind, I know I’m pretty, but geez.” He pokes Hanbin’s chest, right where the flush has deepened the most.

Hanbin’s so embarrassed he might die right there. This is it for him. And at his funeral, the gravestone will read: “Here lies Hanbin. Mortified to death.”

The typically confident captain needs to take his power back. “Sure. If there was anything worth staring at!” He sticks out his tongue and walks away, valiantly only tripping over his own feet once before climbing the ladder down into the pool and submerging himself completely. When he comes back up for air, Hao is smirking and following suit, climbing in after him. Hanbin takes the chance while his student is turned around to stare even more, studying his back and the constellation of freckles and moles scattered across it, and, well… everything else. What Hao doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Once he’s in, Hanbin pointedly averts his eyes to his own elbow, pretending he’d been massaging it the entire time.

Hao doesn’t seem any the wiser when he surfaces after wetting his hair again, flipping it out of his face as he comes back up. Neither of them are wearing their goggles for this. They can cause headaches after squeezing for too long, so. Better to go without.

“So, what do you specialize in, anyway? Let me guess…” Hanbin scans Hao’s body as if he hasn’t already taken extraneous mental notes of every one of his muscles since the moment they met to figure it out. His eyes settle on his pecs where the rounds of them float in the water. “Breaststroke?”

Hao’s browline raises. “Y-yeah, breaststroke.” He stutters, and it’s the first time Hanbin’s heard the foreigner stumble over words despite it not being his mother tongue. Maybe he’s not Mister Perfect, after all.

Hanbin nods. “Knew it!” Curiosity overcomes him. “Can I…?” He brings his hand to Hao’s chest, silently questioning if he can feel his pectoral muscle. He and the guys are always showing off their gains at the gym to each other, so it’s nothing he wouldn’t do to any of the others. At least, he thinks not…

“Ah,” Hao emits a small noise and his whole body jerks back, tensing up and wrapping his arms around his own torso like a hug.

Hanbin retracts his hand quickly, immediately stricken with guilt. His eyes widen in response. “Oh, hyung, I’m sorry. I just-”

“It’s okay. Um.” Hao’s personality folds back in on itself, and whatever progress Hanbin thought he might have made with Hao disappears, just like that. “Let’s just start, okay?”

Hanbin accepts his defeat, for the moment. The last thing he wants to do is screw up and make Hao put even more walls up between them. So, he shakes it off as best as he can, painting a poised smile on his face once more.

The swim captain spends a while demonstrating for Hao the key differences between breaststroke and butterfly – namely, the dolphin kick. He goes on to explain the breathing techniques for both, and the best ways to get a strong, solid stream of oxygen. Hao listens, yes, and he nods along with everything he says. Even asks a question every so often. However, it feels like everything is awkward between them, now, no matter what he does. Hanbin fights through it for the sake of getting through the lesson and just hopes that maybe they can start off on a better foot next time. In the meantime, he just tries not to look Hao directly in the eyes for fear of discomfort.

Before he knows it, the hour is up, and he’s absolutely ready to get out of there as fast as possible. He tries to end things on a positive note, anyway. “Alright, it’s time to wrap things up for now but good work today, and next time maybe you can show me your butterfly so I know what we’re working with!”

Hao only nods in response, fidgeting with the end of a wet lock of hair.

Hanbin has for some reason forgotten how to end a conversation, so he just throws out an, “Alright, seeya!” And books it out of the pool, grabbing his towel and goggles from the bleachers before fast-walking it outta there (because everyone knows you can’t run poolside).

Upon reaching the shower room, he only takes a minute-long shower to rinse the remnants of chlorine off, avoiding having to share a room with his strange new hyung naked – because at this point, he doesn’t think anything could possibly get more awkward than that. So, he hurries and throws on a towel before scurrying to the locker room and pulling on clean briefs under his towel as quickly as possible, in a race against Hao’s arrival.

Hanbin then overhears one of the showerheads switching on in the next room. Phew. He made it. The rest of his clothes are thrown on leisurely, as he assumes he’s in the clear. So, when the sound of the water stream cuts off after only a minute or so, his panic makes a bold, unforeseen comeback.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Hanbin sits back down with haste and fumbles to pull on his socks one at a time. Why did he have to wear long ones today, of all days? And of course, on his first try, the sock is inside out. So, he has to pull it off again, and his hands shake as he attempts to turn it right-side-out in a hurry. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead, still overheated from the shower and about this close to having a panic attack over a pair of stupid socks.

Just when he’s gotten his second shoe pulled on and begun clumsily tightening the laces, the door opens. Though he should’ve known it was coming, it still surprises the ever living hell out of him, his nerves tightly strung in the anxiety of the moment. When he looks up, the top of his head knocks right into the open locker door above him, and the impact is hard enough to practically make him see stars.

“Ssibal!” He doesn’t mean to yell, but the curse slips out anyway. Rubbing at his throbbing skull, Hanbin winces, peering up at the last person he wants to see at this very moment.

A towel is hanging off Zhang Hao’s hip – incredibly low, he might add – and he’s biting his upper lip, trying so hard to keep from laughing at the swim captain’s mishap that his entire body is vibrating with internal giggles, nostrils flared.

“Hyung, stop it!” Hanbin whines, so momentarily thrown off by the incident that he forgets to put on his facade of coolness. His guard is down. It can’t really get worse can this, can it?

Hao sniffles, a tear of laughter escaping the corner of his eye. He breathes deeply to fend off a giggle fit while Hanbin is still sulking in place. “That was awful, Hanbin. Here, let me see-” He moves closer and stops directly in front of where Hanbin’s sat to inspect his head.

He realizes it actually could get worse, after all. Because now, Hao’s towel is practically pressed against his face as he continues to hold back chuckles making sure Hanbin isn’t concussed. Hanbin almost wishes he were at this point. Maybe then he’d at least forget any of this happened.

Wait, back it up just one minute. Hanbin. He said Hanbin! Oh, so suddenly they’re not using any honorifics whatsoever? Hanbin doesn’t really care about that kind of thing, but it’s just odd. Ten minutes ago he could’ve sworn the guy didn’t even want anything to do with him. But now, they’re on close terms? Weird! Zhang Hao is really, really weird. He’s not the problem at all, here, and he’s sure of that now. This dude is just genuinely acting off around him. Right? Right…?!

“Looks okay, but you might get a bump. Sorry.” Hao turns and walks away, cleansing Hanbin’s eyes of his towel, and any and all thoughts that may or may not be related to his towel. Though, that bubble of relief pops soon after, when Hao opens his new locker and immediately lets the terry cloth fall to the floor.

Hell. Hanbin needs to run. Fast. This is too much to handle.

He doesn’t even need to tie his shoe; forget that, for now. Hanbin leaves the laces loose and shoves his belongings in his bag before speed-walking away, totally moving his gaze away from all of… that… on the other side of the room. Out the doors, and he’s finally free. The humidity outside is almost suffocating, yet it hits him like a breath of fresh air. Down the concrete steps he sprints, but just when he hits the home stretch to the car and thinks he might be out of the woods, he reaches into his pocket and is hit with a realization.

His phone. It’s inside. With Zhang Hao. You know, the one without a towel.

Does he really need a phone, anyway? Momentarily, he weighs the pros and cons of just going off the grid entirely to avoid having to go back in there. But no, his mom is supposed to call tonight. And not to mention, his NCT concert tickets are saved on there, aren’t they? Okay, nevermind; this is a rescue mission, now. He’s going back in. He has to save those tickets. And he’ll withstand whatever he must to do so – even a naked Zhang Hao.

This is for you, Jaehyun, he repeats over and over to himself under his breath, looking to any bystander like he’s lost his marbles entirely. Maybe he has.

Entering back through the double doors and pulling open the heavy metal one to the locker room, he finds his Hao-hyung right away, thankfully fully clothed. But to Hanbin’s dismay, he’s holding his phone.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Hanbin walks over and snatches it from him, and Hao frowns in response. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Hao’s brows meet in the middle, his lower lip jutting out, extra plump. “I was just about to run it out to you. Don’t be mean,” he pouts sullenly. “Your mother called, by the way.”

Maybe Hanbin was too hard on him. Or maybe Hao is trying to manipulate him. If that’s the case, then it’s certainly working. “Oh. Sorry, Hao.”

Oops. No honorifics for him, either? Guess he’s rolling with it.

Hao sighs. “It’s fine, I guess. But I’m not that awful, you know. Hmph.” The honorific thing doesn’t seem to bother Hao at all… a cultural thing, perhaps? But now, his pout has taken a turn from upsetting to downright tear-inducing. He does almost look like he might cry, in fact. So, Hanbin backpedals.

“No, no, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry things have gotten off to such a… well, bad start between us.”

“Bad?” Okay, now Hao’s definitely about to cry. His eyes even turn glassy. Shit. This is nothing like what Hanbin was expecting. Is this really the same Zhang Hao from practice, the one who was so confident and strong-minded that he made a stranger race him just to show off how easily he’d win?

“No, not bad, s-sorry, that’s not what I meant, Hao-” Hanbin is tripping over his words like an idiot once more.

Just when he’s about to reach for the older’s arm, his phone starts vibrating in his palm, and to his utter despair, the song TT by Twice blares from it, ringing way too painfully loud throughout the small locker room. Damn it, Mattie. It’s the ringtone he set for his roommate, specifically, since they have an inside joke involving a video of him drunkenly dancing to the song. Oops.

“Oh my god,” Hao’s eyes grow impossibly wide. “You like girl groups?!”

Hanbin slides his thumb to reject the call, his friend undoubtedly wondering what the hell’s taking him so long. Redirecting his gaze to Hao, there’s a fire lit in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Y-Yeah. I mean, I’m more of an NCT guy, but. Girl groups are my second love, why? Do you… like them…?”

He doesn’t even know why he asked when, clearly, the answer is yes. This is a Zhang Hao that Hanbin hasn’t seen yet, not at all. His cheeks are flushed, his face glowing, a toothy smile spread ear to ear, spherical cheeks rounder than ever. “I love them!!” He grabs Hanbin’s hand like a giddy little kid. Hao’s skin there is rough, the pads of his fingers calloused, and they’re refreshingly chill against his own ever-tepid skin. It’s actually… nice. “What are your top three? Wait! Actually-” He lets go to dig in the pocket of his hoodie and retrieve his phone.

His first ever touch from Zhang Hao. But as soon as it comes, it’s gone again. Hanbin misses it immediately.

“Here, add me so I can see your playlists!” He hands his phone over to Hanbin, open to the same music app he uses.

Hanbin’s gaze returns to Hao. His eyes have become happy little half moons, and the sweetness emanating from them is contagious. He returns the smile, showing off indents in his cheeks, a piece of himself he wants to share. “Okay! I will. But you have to add me, too.”

And just like that – in the most curious of ways – that’s how Hanbin starts to unravel the mystery that is Zhang Hao.

For thirty entire minutes straight, they stand there in that rec center locker room after hours on a Saturday night talking Korean pop music, because he and Hao just can’t stop gabbing once they’ve gotten started.

First, it’s about Twice. Then, the topic changes to their shared affinity for Red Velvet, and next thing they know, they’re re-enacting the choreo of various songs together, giggling like elementary school kids. Hao is so animated when he speaks about his passion for music, so enthralling, Hanbin can’t not be pulled in. He can’t help but hang on every word, intrigued that the man is paying him even the slightest bit of attention, much less yapping on and on like they’re old friends, and without honorifics.

The conversation never dies down; rather, it’s cut dreadfully short by another call from his roommate, and Hanbin woefully decides he can’t just reject it again. “I’m sorry, Hao, I’ve gotta take this! But I’ll catch you tomorrow, alright? Bye-bye!” He grins widely while waving his hyung farewell, and grins even wider when Hao puckers his lips to send a little kiss through the air. Flooring it out of the room with the phone to his ear, he finally answers. “Dude, I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“See, I knew you’d get along! See ya soon,” is all Matthew responds before hanging up.

What, is this guy clairvoyant or something?

The entire drive home, Hanbin mulls over ways he could capitalize monetarily on his roommate’s psychic powers with one untied sneaker pressed firmly to the gas pedal. He sings along to one of Zhang Hao’s girl group playlists on shuffle set to the highest volume his car’s speakers will tolerate, smiling stupidly through every single word.

“So, let me get this straight,” Matthew says tongue-in-cheek, taking a handful of microwave popcorn and shoving it into his mouth. “You can’t stop staring at him, and you turn stupid every time he so much as breathes in your direction?”

Hanbin picks at the popcorn too, throwing a couple pieces into the air and catching them in his mouth effortlessly while absent-mindedly staring at the subtitles of the movie that they’ve barely paid attention to for the ten minutes it’s been playing. “Yup.” He nods and grabs his diet soda from its coaster, sipping it through the straw.

Matthew’s got that kind of look on his face he always gets when he’s about to give Hanbin shit. Hanbin figured as much would happen though when he decided to tell him about the Zhang Hao problem, and it’s honestly impressive his best friend only laughed at his expense for, like, a minute after recounting the entire locker room incident in all its nightmare-inducing glory.

“And... stop me if I didn’t hear you right. But every time you try to touch him he becomes shy out of nowhere, and you feel like he’s treating you differently than he is the rest of the team? Yeah?” There’s that damn twinkle in his eye. Matthew is definitely up to no good, wherever it is that he’s going with this.

“Exactly!” Hanbin catches a couple more pieces he throws in midair despite them veering a little far to the left. Damn, he really is good at everything.

Matthew smirks crazily as he deals the final blow. “Did you ever consider it might have anything to do with, oh. I don’t know. The fact that he’s a man, and you’re a man. And he’s attractive, and you’re… ya know. Gay?”

Hanbin misses the popcorn this time. His mouth hangs open as it falls into his lap.

“MATT!”

“What?! I mean, he’s exactly your type. And by that what I mean is he’s exactly like you. To an almost creepy extent. I know you’re into that! Plus, like. The whole ‘freaking out because he was naked’ part; that sounds like a gay thing, does it not?”

Hanbin’s baffled. How could he insinuate such a thing? “No! Are you- I mean, no way! I’m just trying to form a nice, normal friendship with the new guy, and here comes Mr. Chaotic Bisexual to tell me it’s not possible to not have those kind of feelings for someone of the same gender just because he perfectly checks every box on my list of impossibly high standards for potential dates?”

“Yes, actually! That’s exactly what I’m saying, hyung. I mean, you saw him in the locker room and practically busted your skull open, did you not?”

Hanbin starts rambling on with no end in sight. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! First of all, that’s not where I thought you were going with that sentence. And second of all, that’s offensive; he’s our teammate, Mattie! As if I’m not used to seeing buff guys in swimsuits every single day. I just met the man! It’s not like that! Plus, he’s probably not even gay. So double offensive, making assumptions. Shameful!” He remembers his lap full of popcorn and gathers it up in his hand before nervously shoving it all into his mouth at once.

Chuckling, Matt has another rapid fire response locked and loaded. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve met the guy. He’s even gayer than you! Which, no offense, but. It’s a feat, for sure. I mean, you bonded over girl groups. And did he not make a weird sound when you tried to feel him up?”

“I… wrsn’t… ferllin… hrm… urp!!!” Hanbin tries to sound mad, but it’s difficult with a mouthful of popcorn. Damn it.

Shaking his head with a tsk, Matthew also pretends to watch the movie now, though it’s obvious he’s doing no such thing. “Listen, dude. This is, like, crush 101. So obvious! I can’t believe you didn’t see it? He even exchanged socials with you. So obvious that he’s into you! Maybe you were just too blinded by the Zhabs to see the situation at hand.”

Finally swallowing the last of the crunchy kernels down and taking another sip to ensure none get caught, Hanbin asks, perplexed: “Zhabs?”

“Zhang Hao abs! Come on, man. Keep up.”

Hanbin doesn’t know what to say. Partly because he’s still processing everything his cheeky roommate just said, attempting to figure out if he might actually be right about this. Since, well, he usually is. Also partly because he’s now picturing Zhang Hao’s abs again. Mmm. Zhabs.

My god. He’s right, isn’t he? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He just might have a big, fat, stupid crush on Zhang Hao.

“Listen…” The last thing Hanbin needs is his entire team teasing him for this. They would never let him live it down. Every practice would be absolutely intolerable. He needs to shove this crush deep down inside and never let it resurface. “I’m not into him, okay? We’re just friends. Next practice, you’ll see.”

“Sure, Hanbin-hyung. Whatever you say.” Matthew isn’t convinced, but it’s fine. This is just a harmless little crush. As mentioned before, it’s probably due to him being the only person who’s come along in recent years who actually meets his personal dating criteria.

Taller, check. Older, but only slightly? check. Passion for competitive swimming, check. Over-the-top confidence, check. Pretty face, pretty waist, pretty legs: check, check, check. And okay, this one is embarrassing to admit, but… foreigner, check. So yeah, sure, Hao-hyung is exactly his type. But Hanbin’s romantic life has been dead for so long that there are cobwebs forming on it… so surely he’s just a little thirsty. Hao is just the first tall drink of water he’s come across, that’s all. Doesn’t mean he’s gonna down him in one gulp.

Even if he does crave the taste.

“How’s your elbow feeling today, hyung?”

The curious youngest, Yujin, hollers to Hanbin across the noisy locker room. The small area is packed with men talking amongst themselves, lined with blue metal doors ajar for swimmers to shove their items, training clothes and bags inside before retrieving only goggles from within.

“Better, Yujin-ah! The injections this morning bruised me a little, but I think they’re already working! Just like new.” It’s a definite exaggeration; in fact, steroid injections leave him extremely sore for the few days after. But he doesn’t want his younger teammates to worry. He can withstand the aches on his own. He hangs his bag in his locker with his fully functional arm and is extra careful not to accidentally nudge his bandaged one with the locker door while closing it.

Yujin grins, and it warms his heart so much he has to smile back. The maknae is still in his pubescent years, so moodiness is a constant battle. For Hanbin, seeing him happy is worth enduring all the injections in the world. “That’s great, I’m so glad! Fighting today, hyung!”

“Fighting!!” Hanbin ruffles his hair and they leave the room together, making a conscientious effort not to pay attention to his surroundings, especially any Chinese swimmers that may or may not be nearby (and he doesn’t mean Shen Ricky). The last thing he needs when he’s hurting is to withstand more nagging from Matthew over his crush. Mattie has a tendency to not be able to keep secrets. If he spills the beans in front of Hao, well… Hanbin might just have to go into hiding.

Unfortunately for the swim captain, immediately upon entering the pool area, guess which precise two are there to greet him? That’s right; Matthew and Zhang Hao are the first ones in the room, standing poolside chatting in their swim jammers, faces and hands animated in discussion. Hanbin fears the topic of their conversation. “Hey, hyung! How are you feeling after your jabs?” Matthew notices Hanbin approaching and a smirk plays on his face. Oh, I’m gonna kill him.

When he and Yujin reach them, Hao finally looks his way. When he does, it’s like time stands still. It’s obvious that his new friend took some time on his hair today, despite the fact that it’s just going to get wet, volumized at the roots and hairsprayed in a wind-tousled way. His eyes are even prettier than Hanbin remembers… hold on, is he wearing makeup? Moving his gaze downwards but trying to be discreet about it, it’s obvious that Hao is even wearing some sort of sparkly body oil, every contour shimmering golden from the sun that pours in through the skylights in the ceiling. And, additionally: were his speedo pants always that tight?

“Hyung!” A hand waves in front of his face. It belongs to Yujin. Oops. Time didn’t stop, it turns out – he was just in his own world for a while. But it couldn’t have been that long though, right?

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, I’ve been out of it since this morning.” He pointedly does not make eye contact with Hao and opts for staring at his roommate dumbly, instead. “Yeah! Wait, what was the question?”

“Oh my god,” Matthew rolls his eyes and smiles. “Nevermind. Hey Yujin-ah, let’s go work on our diving form! Come on.”

“But-” Despite the protest, he tugs Yujin away by the arm, leaving Hanbin and Hao alone. This must have been his plan all along. Damn it, Matthew.

Neither of them say anything, at first. Hanbin tries to avoid Hao’s eyes for fear of getting lost in them for an uncomfortable amount of time. So, he picks at the bandaids on his elbow, instead. Awkward. He’s literally never acted like this around another person, and it’s making him feel extremely weird. Maybe he should just walk away. But just as he’s about to make a move toward the pool, Hao finally speaks.

“Hey, I, uh. Made you a playlist.”

Hanbin finally finds Hao’s eyes, caught off-guard by his voice. Turns out Hao is looking elsewhere, though. Guess the pool water must be extra interesting today. Wait a second – he just now processes what Hao said. A playlist, just for him? “Did you?” He rubs his neck. Why is it so quiet? Even as other members of the team enter and jump in the pool, it feels like they’re the only two there.

“Yeah. Can I text it to you…?” Hao meets his gaze, which is unfortunate, as it makes him go completely dumb. Hanbin’s ears start burning right away.

“No!!” Why is his voice so abnormally loud? That doesn’t seem like the right volume. “I mean… I mean, I’ll just find it. I added you, remember, hyung?” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, it’s just what his mind conjures up first.

Hao’s face falls and Hanbin knows that whatever he said was the wrong thing. Again. “Oh, yeah. Right! Okay! Well…” Hao seems equally scrambled. “Fighting!” He summons a tiny, fake smile and tries to quickly pivot toward the pool to jump in. However, the tiles are slippery, causing Zhang Hao to lose his footing entirely, his hands desperately searching the air for something to grab onto as he begins to fall.

“Hao!!!”

Lucky for him, Hanbin has extraordinary reflexes. In a flash, he reaches both arms out and catches his new teammate by the torso, his hands wrapping around the middle of the older’s body to steady him. He then pulls him closer to get him away from the ledge.

Ouch. Fuck. He forgot about his elbow.

All the sudden, varied reactions from the team – gasps, relieved sighs, cheers and “wows” – echo throughout the room as Hanbin feels Hao’s heart beating fast under his ribs where he’s still holding on, afraid to let go. Who knew such an adept, coordinated swimmer could be so clumsy on land? Hanbin decides to never let Zhang Hao out of his sight, panting, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the ordeal.

Hao spins around in his grasp, forcing his hands to instead settle into the dips of his back muscles. And again, for a moment, it feels like only the two of them are there, despite all the others’ surprised yelling in the background.

“Thanks, Hanbin-ah,” Hao says between deep breaths, his eyes like planets with their own gravitational pull.

Hanbin realizes he needs to get away before he gets lost in them. “Oh, it’s nothing!” He says with a grin, retracting his palms from Hao’s soft skin as fast as he can before turning away and jumping into the pool.

He already has a feeling that catching Hao in midair is gonna be a hot topic for Matthew later. Great.

“Dude, hyung, that was so cool!!” Gyuvin wades over and throws an arm over his neck.

He laughs nervously, embarrassed at how quickly his body responded to Zhang Hao’s distress. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’d do it for you, too!” He swears he would. Or, well. He thinks he would…?

“No, seriously, hyung. That was crazy!” Gunwook adds, patting him so hard on the back that he almost flinches. The guy doesn’t know his own strength.

“Whatever. I would’ve caught myself, anyway.” Hao has climbed down the ladder by the others, and he’s back to being cocky as ever. Well, clearly he’s fine, Hanbin decides after worrying himself sick over the guy for the last few minutes.

“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve, hyung!” Hanbin throws a little sarcastic remark back with a toothy grin.

“Hmph.” Hao sticks his tongue out at Hanbin very similarly to how he had done yesterday to tease him.

Two can play at that game. Hanbin does it right back, causing one corner of Hao’s mouth to raise.

The coaches enter the room as Hanbin tries to stretch his arm out beside Hao despite feeling like it’s being stabbed by needles, listening to Gyuvin on the other side of him chatter on about how he had “run into” (followed) Ricky at the grocery store the night before, wholly still in shock over all that just happened within five minutes’ time.

Meanwhile, as Jiwoong and Taerae lecture them all about being in their best shape for the upcoming swim meet, the swim captain stares at the open palms of his hands. Covered in glitter from sun-kissed skin, he runs the pads of his pointer fingers over the lines running horizontally through the tops of his palms, wondering what songs could possibly be on a playlist curated specifically for him.

Throughout their practice, though he rarely looks at Zhang Hao even as they toss witty remarks at one another, he can sense the heat of his eyes on him the entire time, feeling like they could burn him up if he let them. And the more he gets to know him, the more he thinks he might.

“Alright, Hao-hyung. I need to know how much time we’re gonna need to spend on this before regionals. Go ahead and give it your best shot!” Hanbin is shouting to Hao from the other end of the pool.

Practice ended a few minutes ago and the others have already cleared out, leaving he and Zhang Hao alone for their one-on-one. Hanbin is itching to get a feel for Hao’s butterfly skills since he’s apparently good at everything. During their normal practice, he’s watched him execute every other stroke with expertise, but strangely, he’s never even given butterfly a try, not once. Hanbin would’ve noticed if he did, since Hao has become the sole object of his attention despite every attempt to focus elsewhere. It might be an actual problem if he wasn’t miles ahead of the rest with his skills already.

“Okay, captain!” Hao yells back with a thumbs-up in the air before getting into his starting position, body floating above the water’s blue surface. Every vein in his arms protrudes to where Hanbin even notices them fifty meters away. He briefly wonders what they’d feel like against his mouth before pulling his thoughts out of that no man’s land right away.

“Ready?” He exclaims, “On your mark, get set! Go!!”

On his word, Hao flies backwards into the water and pushes off against the pool’s wall. It’s pretty weak though, only getting a headstart of about one meter, significantly less than is average for him. He must be nervous. But no worries! Hanbin’s certain he can make up for it with the speed of his laps, since the man tends to cut through water like a motorboat. Though, once Hao starts the stroke, that certainty drops. Fast.

His arms look weak and bent all wrong, timing of breaths totally off. His dolphin kick is completely out of wack, feet doing their own thing independent of one another instead of synchronizing.

I can’t believe it. He actually… sucks.

Hanbin watches on in abject horror. If this weren’t his teammate, he would be laughing his ass off, doubled over. However, he’s nothing if not a perfectionist, and this flailing fish before him is supposed to possess the capability to be his alternate in two short weeks if they succeed at the swim meet (which, naturally, they will). This is no laughing matter, especially with the shape his elbow’s in at the current moment. Basically? They’re doomed.

“Stop! I mean- Hao, please stop, that’s enough! You’re good!” He doesn’t allow the pathetic display to go on any longer. Though, he also doesn’t wanna hurt Hao’s feelings, remembering the way his lower lip protruded in the locker room the night before.

Huffing and puffing, Hao stands up, blinking water out of his eyes and pushing his hair back as he doggy paddles closer to Hanbin. When he catches his breath, Hao stares at the swim captain with his heart on his sleeve. “Was it okay? I’m sorry, it really isn’t my strong suit,” he admits with a dry, self-deprecating laugh, lowering his head.

Hanbin hates the part of himself so much that is secretly relieved he’s better than Zhang Hao at something.

“It was a good starting point! Don’t worry, I’ll have you doing the butterfly with the best of them in no time. Just trust me.” He places both hands on Hao’s shoulders, but this time, the older swimmer doesn’t pull away from the touch. So he lightly massages, and it appears to lift Hao’s spirits instantly.

“Thanks, captain. I won’t let you down.” He brings a hand to his head in salute, as if Hanbin’s a captain in the military or something of the sort. His smile is warm, inviting.

Trying to get right on with their training now that he is aware of the situation at hand, Hanbin lets go of him with a small smile back and makes his way toward the starting blocks. “Alright, let’s get to work!” He exclaims, dimples streaking his rosy cheeks.

He reviews with Hao the proper kick-off technique, taking a more hands-on approach this time – literally.

“Like this?” Hao demonstrates his kicks, but they’re a little mediocre.

Hanbin steps toward him and places one palm under his thighs, one under his upper body, the ridges of his abdominals flexing against his hand. He tries to nudge his movements in the right directions. “No, more like this! But you’re so close. You just need to make sure these points alternate up and down with the correct timing, okay? Keep practicing.”

Hao continues trying, body pulsing under Hanbin’s fingertips, until he finally falls into rhythm. The swim captain could let go once it appears Hao is getting the hang of the kick, but he doesn’t. It feels like electricity where they touch, and that sensation is addicting. Like a drug he can’t resist, something unexplainable. It appears he’s hooked already.

“Hanbin-ah?” Hao stops all movement and flips his body over. Now, he’s just floating, held up by Hanbin’s hands underneath his thighs and back. Hanbin doesn’t answer, entranced by the butterflies in his gut and the outline of his own pink hand print on Hao’s tan stomach.

It’s completely silent aside from the sound of small ripples crashing against the walls of the pool. The warmth and tension causes Hanbin to perspire, tiny droplets falling through his sideburns. The way Hao is looking up at him from the water isn’t helping anything, rouge spreading to his chest, neck, and ears.

Hao repeats his name so softly it’s barely audible. “Hanbin?”

That finally snaps him out of it. “Oh! Sorry!” He lets go all at once, causing Hao to start sinking before emerging back out from the water upright. He hadn’t expected to be dropped that quickly, apparently, so he gasps for air when he stands.

“You could’ve warned me, you know,” he snides, slightly snippy.

But Hanbin just laughs at how cute he looks, his hair all down over his eyes like a dog caught out in the rain, and it causes Hao to drop all annoyance, laughing with him and even pinching his tummy after brushing it away from his face.

He glances up at the clock on the wall. Wow. Has it really been an hour already? Time flies.

“Shoot! Looks like it’s about that time. Thanks for your work today!” He leisurely swims away to the ladder and climbs out of the pool, Hao following close behind.

“Thanks for teaching me! You’re a good teacher.”

Hanbin looks back just as Hao winks. He almost misses a step but catches himself. “You’re a good learner!” He adds, winking back. Hao looks pleased. He grabs his towel and goggles off the first row of bleachers and makes a beeline toward the- oh. Right.

The showers.

“How long do you think it’s gonna take me to get as good as you, captain?” Hao inquires as Hanbin holds the door open for him. He steps inside before walking casually toward one of the showers. The room is completely open, no dividers whatsoever between the separate showerheads. Incidentally, the one Hanbin usually uses is the exact one that Hao chose, so he settles for a few down instead. Not too close, but also not so far that it seems he’s actively trying to get away from him.

Because he’s so totally suave and chill about this whole showering together thing. No, wait; not together. They’re not showering together. That’s not what he meant. Just… in the same room. He does it with the rest of his teammates all the time. Completely normal. Natural, even. And it’s also completely normal and natural that he decides to keep his jammers on as he showers even though he normally strips naked. Has nothing to do with the hottest guy he’s ever met being right there.

“Hmm,” he switches the water on and begins by washing himself off with a clean towel he’d fetched from the stack in the corner to rub the chlorine off his skin. “Well, hopefully a couple weeks. I know it’s not a lot of time, but regionals are already that close, you know? I’m gonna need you as my back-up.”

Hao powers his water on too with the turn of a silver knob, and Hanbin makes the mistake of glancing his way to anticipate a response. For some reason, he assumed that keeping his own swimming gear on would’ve made Hao do the same, but it did no such thing. He catches sight of his hyung’s entire side profile, his eyes closed with the water beating down on his face as he runs fingers through his hair. He’s statuesque, like one of those life-size marble Renaissance figures one would find in a museum, every piece of him sculpted by the gods, from head to toe.

Right as Hanbin’s eyes meet the other’s waist, the foreigner’s head turns, locking eyes with him. Panic surges through the captain but he tries a pathetic act of nonchalance, head whipping away to pretend to stare at his showerhead.

“I’ll do whatever I can to meet your expectations, captain.” He emphasizes the given nickname in a way that sends shivers up Hanbin’s spine. It seems Hao knew it would have an effect on the younger, as he chuckles to himself shortly after. Are Hanbin’s mannerisms really that easy to read? Lately, it’s like he’s become an open book. A sense of feeling exposed takes over, regardless of being the only one of the two wearing clothes.

The rest of the shower, Hao pays no mind to Hanbin though, humming an Irene and Seulgi song (Hanbin happens to love) to himself under his breath. Hanbin works hard to keep his focus on the task at hand, but can’t not sneak a peek to his right every so often. He’s just a man, after all.

Hao exits the room before he’s finished, humming all the while and tucking a towel around his waist again. Once he’s gone, Hanbin shamefully peels his jammers off his lower half and replaces them with a towel as well. He has to pause to take several deep breaths to calm his rabbiting heart rate before entering the locker room.

Oh, great. Hao’s towel is nowhere to be seen again. Lucky for him, the perfect distraction comes to him in the form of rapid text message tones ringing from his locker. He fumbles the padlock open with wet fingers and rifles through his bag to retrieve his phone and see who could be blowing him up.

Come to find it’s the swim team group chat.

Mattiekins yo! squad dinner at our favorite place tonight. drinks after for those of age. sorry yujinie!! be there… or else (ominous)

“Are you gonna go?”

Hanbin forgot where he was momentarily, and Hao’s voice scares him so much he lets go of the towel he was holding up with one hand. It settles on the floor around his feet. Hanbin’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider. Luckily, he’s facing his locker, at least, so only the back of him is visible from Hao’s angle.

Not so luckily, Hao whistles, catcalling him. The entire surface of his skin is turning scarlet now, and he can’t do anything to stop it.

“Hao, please...” He whines, sloppily tugging a pair of red briefs up his legs and onto his waist.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hao mumbles in English, giggling as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “But are you going? Dinner?”

“Yeah. Are you?” Hanbin wonders, putting on a pair of baggy jeans with a white, scoop-neck tee from his bag. It’s some of the nicer summer clothing that he owns and there’s definitely no reason why that’s specifically what he packed today of all days. No reason at all.

“I guess I will too, then.” Hao adds before shutting his locker and leaving with a sly smirk. “See you there.” The way his tank top and itty-bitty running shorts hug his body leaves little to the imagination.

Hanbin doesn’t often let himself drink in excess, but he has a feeling that tonight is going to be an exception.

The off-duty swim captain takes in a big whiff of the familiar smell of galbi and kimchi jjigae as he strolls into the familiar haunt, where he, Matthew and Gyuvin find they’re the first of the team to arrive. It’s late in the dinner hours, and the popular campus restaurant is buzzing with hordes of other students just catching both the end of happy hour, and the beginning of when the real fun starts.

“Oh, our spot’s open! Come on…” Gyuvin yanks Hanbin over by his left arm to the table they typically sit at. Its vacancy feels like a good omen to kick off the night. Hanbin’s still wearing the same outfit from earlier, as he hadn’t had much time to get ready at home after he and his new student left the rec center. However, he did still manage to blow out his hair handsomely, dab on a bit of concealer to combat his blushy cheeks, add a spritz of his favorite cologne, and generally make himself look nice. Not for any reason in particular, of course. He always wants to look his best when he goes out.

They slide into the roomy booth in the back corner of the place, a location that’s just the perfect amount of secluded from the rest of the tables full of rowdy uni students there to blow off some steam. Even in the warmer months, there are still a decent amount of them on campus for summer classes. Hanbin settles for the spot beside his roommate.

“So, hyung, you gonna tell us why you’re all spruced up?” Damn it, Gyuvin.

“Right? I haven’t seen him look this put-together since his sister’s graduation! What gives?”

Okay, so maybe this isn’t the usual look for kicking it with his bros. “Nothing! Isn’t a guy allowed to wanna look nice?”

“No,” they both say in unison. So much for subtlety. A waitress drops off some banchan at their table, and Hanbin nibbles at a piece of danmuji nervously.

“Ohhh, I get it,” Matthew dotes. “Gyuvin-ah, he’s trying to impress his new little boyfriend. Isn’t that right, hyung?”

“Mattie!!! He’s not my boyfriend! We’re barely even friends yet! Please.” How could he say that in front of Gyuvin? See! Terrible secret keeper. Awful. “This is homophobic,” he adds, just to drive the point home.

“Oooooh, you DO have a crush on Zhaeng Hayo, don’t you hyung?! I knew it! Which means Rwick owes me a fifty spot.” Wow. What’s that saying? Who needs enemies when you’ve got friends like these…?

“Speak of the devil and he appears!” Matt exclaims, waving their teammates Ricky, Gunwook, and Yujin over to the table. Everyone is dressed down in athletic wear… aside from Hanbin. Isn’t that great! Well, Ricky’s more formal, but he’s just about always dressed in the same all-black Versace get-up. Thank god there’s someone there to at least make him feel a little less alone.

“Hi hyungs, what are you talking about?” Yujin asks, the three of them sliding in beside Gyuvin on the other side of the circular booth. Gunwook groans when Gyuvin uncouthfully moves across his lap just to switch spots and end up next to Ricky. Ricky rolls his eyes, but Gyuvin still flashes him a smile.

“Hanbin hyung’s crush on Jjaeng Heya-o!” Gyuvin hollers loud enough for the entire building and possibly alleycats outside to hear.

“It’s not a crush!!!” Hanbin rarely raises his voice, but this is insanely annoying. Now he knows how Gyuvin feels when they pick on him for his obsession with the strawberry-haired man beside him. “He’s our new teammate, and possibly my alternate moving forward, okay? I’m just trying to make a good impression, unlike you freaks!”

Gunwook speaks up as he separates his chopsticks. “Oh, is that why you smell like my grandma, hyungie?” They all die laughing, at Hanbin’s expense. It seems they all already knew. Ricky reluctantly pulls a fifty-thousand won bill from his wallet and slides it to Gyuvin with a sigh.

“It’s really expensive cologne, hush!” He raises his wrist to his nose and sniffs. Is it too much? No matter; can’t be helped now. Or wait, can it? Should he run to the bathroom and wash it off?! “Hold on, I’ll be right back-” He jumps to leave but Matthew pulls him back down by the wrist.

“Wait! It’s okay, hyung, we were just kidding. You look and smell great. We’re just giving you a hard time!” Matthew reassures his anxiety-riddled friend, who settles back into his seat.

Sung Hanbin gives up. “Okay, fine. Whatever. Go ahead and make your jokes.” The worn-down swim captain picks at the kimchi next. He’s had a bit of a nervous stomach for the past hour or so, not sure why.

“No, hyung, I think it’s… sweet,” Yujin says quietly while pushing kkakdugi around his own plate. “You would be cute together.” The things that come from the mouths of babes. Leave it to sweet little Yujin-ie to be the most supportive of the bunch.

“Oh, he’s here! Everyone, shh,” Gyuvin warns them with a finger to his mouth. “Zhay-ing He-ah-ow! Over here!” He waves one long arm in the air.

Hanbin’s heart drops into his butt. Craning his neck, he spots their newest addition to the crew walking their way from the entrance, weaving his way through the crowded tables.

Whoa. He looks…

“Hi! Sorry I’m late,” Hao chirps, approaching the table. “My car got a flat tire, so I had to bum a ride from a friend. Did I miss anything?”

“Uhhhh,” is all Hanbin manages. He doesn’t even know what he had meant to say. Once again, he’s rendered absolutely idiotic in the presence of Zhang Hao – who, by the way, is dressed in an outfit that makes Hanbin think he may have made him up in his dreams.

Yes, he’s still wearing the white tank from earlier, but has thrown a denim button-up over it, opened so one can still make out every contour of his muscles. Baggy denim trainer pants to match hang off his hips, looking like something out of Hanbin’s own personal collection. But that’s not even what catches his eye the most: the tank is tucked into the thick waistband of his briefs, purposefully visible for the entire world and god to see. Thick-rimmed glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and he pushes them up with his index finger. Unreal. Hanbin doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he does what he does best, nowadays – stares relentlessly, but shamefully, averting his eyes every time he notices he’s doing so.

“What Hanbin-hyung means to say is,” Yujin cuts in to save him. “You look really nice, Hao-hyung!”

The others mutter words of agreement and nod their heads, giving Hanbin side-eyes that say something along the lines of, Hyung, pull yourself together.

Hao ruffles the maknae’s hair, which is usually Hanbin’s thing. “Thanks, Yujinie!” And… Oh god. He’s taking the seat by me. What should he do? He tries to scooch closer to Mattie, but it appears the others have purposefully maneuvered their way in toward the middle so that he’d be forced to sit as close to Zhang Hao as possible. Pure evil villainy.

Hao sits down beside him, and he can feel the man’s right thigh press up against his. It’s surprisingly cold, especially considering he’s wearing long sleeves and pants in the middle of one of the hottest months of the year. His body seems to run cold most of the time.

“Hi, Hanbin-ah.” Hao speaks kindly and gently, his head turning to face Hanbin, their faces so close now that they practically share the same breath. “Long time no see,” he kids, nudging his shoulder into Hanbin’s. Hao’s makeup is done up so prettily, the glitter in his aegyosal catching the light in the room and reflecting off his pupils. Hanbin even notices it past the thick rim of his glasses, it’s so eye-catching. He’s downright mesmerized.

That’s when the waitstaff returns to their table like a saving grace, rescuing Hanbin from falling into the depths of Zhang Hao’s eyes and saying something that makes him look like a loser (yet again). Hanbin has never been a loser a day in his life. Guess one would call him a late bloomer.

Whilst Hanbin tries to set his head back on straight, Matthew takes the initiative to order for them all, getting plenty of meat and very little else. They’re carnivores, what can he say? Meat is iron, iron creates muscles, and swimming calls for lots and lots of muscles. A sudden fleeting thought of Zhabs swims in Hanbin’s mind again, and he quickly shakes it out.

“So, Hao-ge,” Ricky asks from across the table. “You said you’re from Fujian province?”

They all turn to Hao, highly interested in exploring everything there is to know about the new guy. They haven’t really had the chance to ask him many personal questions yet to get to know him deeper.

“Ah,” he says, pushing a piece of kimchi past his plump, glossy lips. Hanbin looks away, fast. “Do you speak Mandarin…” He follows this up with a string of words that Hanbin has no idea the meaning of. To be honest, he’d always fallen asleep in that language class. But suddenly, it’s the most captivating sound he’s ever heard, rolling off the tip of Hao’s tongue like a melodic song. While he and Ricky go back and forth in their shared home language for a while, Hanbin zones out looking down at his hands fidgeting in his own lap. And, yeah, his gaze may wander every so often to Hao’s shirt where it meets his waistband; so what? Can you blame him? Anyone would do the same! He’s just a man, for Christ’s sake!

“You know, Hanbin-hyung took a Mandarin class! Didn’t you, hyung?” Ricky attempts to turn the conversation back on Hanbin in Korean, and he’s not sure whether he’s thankful or distraught about it. On one hand, he’s dying to talk to Zhang Hao. On the other, he doesn’t know how to stop acting like a fool whenever he opens his mouth.

“Oh, mm, yeah!” He looks up from his lap and smiles at Hao, who smiles right back.

“Really? Do you remember anything?”

“Not really. Ni hao. Xie xie. Wo ai ni. Wo ai wo de laogong. Those types of things.”

Hang on, what did that last one mean, again? He can’t remember the translation, he just randomly recalled it. Probably from one of the first days of class before he stopped paying attention altogether. He figures it likely doesn’t matter; that is, until Ricky and Hao burst out laughing. The rest of the table looks confused. Hanbin is confused, too. Did he pronounce something wrong?

Ricky whispers in Gyuvin and Yujin’s ears, and Gyuvin passes the message on to Matthew, causing them to join in the laughter. “Wow, hyung, what a way to come out to the new guy!” Matt squeaks through tears in his eyes, which makes them all laugh even harder. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“You said that you love your husband, Hanbin-ah.” Zhang Hao’s whisper falls hot on the shell of his ear, making the hairs on his neck stand up.

Oh. Well, he can see why they’re amused, then. Hanbin must’ve remembered that one from his favorite Chinese BL drama. Heat floods his face, and Hanbin lays his head in the palms of his hands to hide his strawberry cheeks, burning so brightly that it can surely be seen even through his skin tint.

While the guys all start going to town on the spread of various proteins that the staff delivers them, another warm breath hits the side of his face, and he could almost swear a lip grazes it. “I’m gay too, you know. It’s okay.”

“Oh, no. That’s not…”

Hanbin raises his face and gets a look at Hao. He’s grinning to himself as he busies his nimble hands with making up a plate of food. So, in lieu of finishing his sentence, Hanbin smiles back, grateful that Zhang Hao chose him to sit next to as he takes hold of a dish and does the same.

Over food, they learn more about the foreign newcomer: his family, the place he grew up, his friends back home, his past swim team. It sounds as though he didn’t get along well with his teammates there, and that it’s been refreshing for him to find people who truly accept him here. Hanbin catches his drift; the way he says it leads him to believe that the unfortunate reason had less to do with a popularity contest and more to do with his “effeminate” tendencies.

The others chime in assuring their new hyung how strange it is that anyone could not like him, and he cracks a smile that could light up the whole city. Hanbin thinks of how lucky he, himself is to have found a home among this very accepting group of people seated around him. A home that now includes Zhang Hao, too.

The dishes in front of them empty faster than one would imagine, leaving them all stuffed to the brim, each going into their own separate food comas.

“Hey Yujin-ie, I hate to do this, buddy. But. It’s about that time,” Matt informs the maknae as gently as he can.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, pulling out his phone and typing fast. “My mom’s already outside. Seeya hyungs, bye Hao-hyung.” He stands up and specifically rounds the table to lean down and give Hao a half-hug before sprinting off and out the front door. Hao’s swollen lower lip sticks out to coo at the gesture.

“Wow, he doesn’t usually warm up to people so fast! He must really like you, hyung,” Gunwook observes, then belches, rubbing at his stomach.

Zhang Hao grins to himself. Hanbin notices he’s been smiling most of the night. It’s really pleasant to see. “So. Does this mean we can drink now?” Hao wonders aloud, and it takes Matthew not even a minute to beckon the waitstaff and answer his question.

“Hi, yes, we’ll take five bottles of soju please, thank you!”

Five? Oh, so it’s gonna be that sort of evening. Hanbin admittedly could use something to kill his nerves, though. Especially since Zhang Hao has only moved closer and closer to him over the course of their meal, with his right foot now brushing against Hanbin’s shoe.

This is gonna be a long night, he predicts.

Rounds of shots are poured, a few drinking games are played, and they have to explain the rules of each to their new foreign teammate. Hao picks up quickly most of the time, but even when he doesn’t, he is a great sport about it, taking his own shots like a champ. He even takes other people’s shots for them when they get too extraordinarily unlucky. Meanwhile, Hanbin is pouring himself shot after shot on his own, downing them all to try and loosen up. Coaches Jiwoong and Taerae show up and join in the fun at some point, and Hanbin realizes he’s drunk when he doesn’t even know how they got there.

The more he drinks, the less he cares about staring at Zhang Hao. He stares more recklessly, openly, and unapologetically as time passes. He studies him, and hangs on every word he says even when they slur together, a stupid smile plastered on his face, eyes oozing affection. When Hao makes a dry joke, no matter how unfunny, one person laughs so hard every time that his face crinkles every which way while the rest of the table barely chuckles. The same person who, when Hao says, “I’m sleepy,” and leans his head on his shoulder, doesn’t hesitate to lean back, their ankles hooking together under the table.

If Hanbin were more sober, he’d be losing his mind over their sudden physical chemistry. But the buzz kills any thoughts to the matter and cuddling close to Zhang Hao comes strangely natural to him. He’s pretty touchy-feely with his friends, sure, but this is something different. It doesn’t just feel friendly or fun – more like returning to his hometown after a long trip abroad. Comforting. Yeah, that’s the word. Comforting. A tight hug from his mother at the end of a stressful day. A detailed journal entry with his favorite pastel gel pens and fuzzy slippers on, sipping warm chamomile tea. An escape from the chaos and troubles outside their bubble.

Jiwoong is animatedly recounting to the team an apparently hilarious story of Taerae tumbling drunkenly down the stairs at their dorm during their early years of college, but Hanbin’s not listening closely like the others. His eyes are closed, trying to shut off his other senses to only feel the beating of Hao’s heart through where his ear presses to his head. When he hones in on it, it makes him giggle hazily to himself.

“Hm?” Hao murmurs low, the sound vibrating Hanbin’s cheek where they connect.

Hanbin’s definitely had a few too many shots. Or four. Maybe five. Incoherently, he mutters, “Ba-bum, ba-bum. Hehehe,” giggling again at the inability to express himself outside of onomatopoeia.

The older of them doesn’t respond, but Hanbin can feel his cheek rounding out against his shoulder, and he knows Hao understands. Hao’s palm finds Hanbin’s nearest hand and starts patting out a rhythm on it. The rhythm matches Hanbin’s own beating of his heart in his chest. Hanbin rubs his head against Hao’s, and in return, Hao nuzzles his forehead into the dip of his collarbone. Without speaking, they communicate, like a language all their own. No one else at the table seems to notice them in their little world, wholly engaged in their coach’s story and reacting with laughs and hollers, but even if they did, Hanbin doesn’t think he’d care. And yeah, the liquor is definitely playing a huge role in that, but maybe it’s also because no one else at this moment matters. The second Hao touches him, it’s like the universe stops. It’s just him, and Hao, and that overwhelming sense of home.

Even in the haze of the drunken hour, Hanbin can sense how the cutely disheveled head of hair resting against him, humming a Twice song softly enough to reach his ears only, is going to change his life forever. No one has ever made him feel like this before, like he’s one part of an imperfect puzzle that has been waiting for the other to find him and become complete.

“I’m sorry guys, I’ve gotta head out.” Jiwoong stands from the table, his chair screeching across the floor, and it finally yanks Hanbin out from he and Zhang Hao’s quiet paradise, his eyes shooting open and body returning to an upright position. Though, their feet still remain tangled together.

“Mmm,” Hanbin hums, hiccuping and pressing his palm to his cheek to cool the burning flush there. “Bye, Coach!” He manages, grabbing for the full glass of water in front of him and chugging all of it down at once. He can feel Hao’s eyes on him as he does so, and when he hiccups a second time after, the older also hoists himself to his feet, though a little wobbly.

“I should… too. Taxi,” he adds, his eyes glazed over as he counts out his money.

“No!” Hanbin jumps up and grabs Hao’s wrist a bit more aggressively than seems appropriate considering they’re still barely even friends yet, technically. The guys on the swim team snicker, fully aware that their hyung is drunk and acting purely on impulse.

“What he means is,” Matthew adds quite coherently, having not drank near as much as his poor, unfortunate roommate, “Gyuvin’s place is right down the road, and we usually crash there after drinking! You should come too. You’re one of us now!” The other guys nod and express agreement, still biting their bottom lips to hold back laughter. Phew. Smooth save. Hanbin owes Matthew something. Maybe a fruit basket. In his drunken mind, that just makes the most sense, for some reason.

Before saying anything, Hao looks to Hanbin, seeming to assess his eyes for an answer. Hanbin realizes his fingertips are still digging into Hao’s veined arm, so he lets go and rubs at his neck bashfully, looking down at the tabletop.

Whatever it was Hao was looking for in his body language, he seems to find it. “Okay, yeah,” he replies, picking up his own glass of water from the table and swallowing it down similarly to Hanbin. “Sure,” he smiles and sets the empty glass down next to his tip money, his prettily aligned teeth making a welcome appearance. Hanbin can’t feel his face, but if he could he’d know he was grinning goofily.

“Would hate for Hanbin hyung to go a second without staring at you,” Gyuvin teases quietly leaning toward him. Hanbin punches him in the arm on impulse, still not breaking eye contact with Hao, hoping he didn’t overhear what his mischievous younger friend just said. Ricky cracks up like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and says a few words in Chinese to Hao that even sober Hanbin wouldn’t recognize. The new foreigner shows off his signature devilish grin, replying to Ricky in Mandarin with a wink, and Ricky covers his mouth, holding back even more laughs. Apparently, Hao hyung is really funny in his native tongue. He wishes so badly to know for himself. Maybe Hao would teach him one day in exchange for the butterfly lessons.

A yearning guy can dream. He imagines Hao holding up flash cards with phrases. He imagines getting them right. He pictures his reward for doing so, which is a–

“Hanbin-hyung?” Gyuvin beckons him toward the door of the place. The rest of the restaurant has died down and cleared out, and all his friends have already filed out, leaving him daydreaming at the table just assuming he’d follow. Oops.

“Ah!” He exclaims, scurrying in that direction after chugging another teammate’s glass of water to help him sober up some more. He’s already feeling much better since the first, so after this one, he should be good to go. And by good to go he means at least a little less zoned out so that he can pay even more attention to Zhang Hao. There’s still so much to learn about him.

When he sprints out of the neighborhood barbecue joint, Hanbin easily spots the others yelling and staggering down the block. Gunwook is leaning drunkenly on Matthew as they walk, and Gyuvin and Ricky do the same. Whenever Gunwook gets drunk, he tends to cling onto Matthew like a sticker. Hanbin knows the younger boy cares a lot about his roommate and has ever since they met. And not just cares about him, but would threaten to move the world around for him if it meant he’d crack a smile. Wookie’s always been shy about his feelings, though, and so the two just float in one anothers’ orbits, always together but never quite together.

Whereas when it comes to Gyuvin, he isn’t really drunk. Yet, that doesn’t stop him from whining while pulling Ricky every which way and pinching at his cheeks, his side, his ass. Whatever parts of his Chinese crush he can get his hands on, regardless of the fact that he’s actually stone-cold sober. It’s just normal Gyuvin behavior when he gets too excited, like a needy puppy. Jiwoong and Taerae have already branched off and waved goodbye, walking in the opposite direction, likely to Jiwoong’s pad. As much as they like to act like nothing’s going on between them, Hanbin has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. They’ve definitely shared at least one late night together, he presumes. Too much tension between them to have not.

Somehow, Hanbin never noticed until now that most of his teammates have coupled up and become inseparable with another of their own over time. Maybe it’s just that they spend so much time together, along with the fact that they’re all queer in their own varying specifics of the term. Maybe it’s fate that brought them together with one another in one place. Who’s to say? Hanbin’s a pretty open-minded guy. He finds those sorts of theories to be enticing.

Come to think of it, he’s the only one besides the maknae (as far as he knows) who has been a sort of lone wolf, with zero romantic or otherwise prospects in mind since joining the team. Does that mean it could have been some strange fate that brought Hao to him, too?

Okay, whoa; he’s definitely not fully sobered-up yet. But at least he’s only a bit comfortably tipsy now. If the worst that he thinks up are weird strings of fate connecting him and Zhang Hao, then that isn’t so bad. Well, so long as he isn’t actually drunk enough to say those things aloud. Fingers crossed.

In the street, once catching up to the others, he fully assesses the situation and notices Hao walking alone on the edge, a small sway in each step as he seemingly concentrates hard to act light on his feet. It appears that in the water, he’s unfathomably nimble and coordinated. But on land… maybe not so much. Or at least that’s the case after several shots of soju. He could probably use some help.

“Zhang Hao, let me-” Hanbin jogs over and, without hesitation, pulls Hao toward him to anchor him in place. He grasps him at the waist, not thinking of any implications of touching him there, in the sensitive curve above his hip. Hao startles a little, but when his head whips around to find out it’s not a random stranger on the street trying to cop a feel, his tense body relaxes.

“You wanted an excuse to walk with me, hm?” Hao’s expression is feisty, a playful lilt to his question. He pointedly looks to Hanbin, then down at his hand gripping his waist before looking back again.

“I’m sorry, is it okay?” Hanbin backs off, letting his hand ease up and only hover over Hao’s side instead of holding it tightly and never letting go, like he wants to.

“I don’t know, is it?” Hao throws back, still witty with his delivery.

Hanbin tries to match his energy. “Well, do you like it?” He asks, digging his fingertips into the cotton of Hao’s tank top harder this time, pressing into the skin there and pushing the side of the older’s body into his. Hanbin likes tipsy Hao. He likes tipsy Hao a lot. Would he be bold enough to do this if he were sober? Probably not. He doesn’t reckon either of them would.

Hao chuckles robustly, his chest voice ringing out into the humid summer night air while Hanbin helps them dodge a pothole. “You enjoy having control over me, don’t you?”

What the hell. Hanbin stops walking and peers incredulously at Hao. Was it that obvious? He thought he had been playing it coy and shy this entire time. Is it making him feel uncomfortable? He can feel his face getting hot.

“No, no, it’s not- That’s not- I’m sorry,” he stutters, facing Hao and waving his hands in the air.

“Relax,” Hao purrs, reaching a hand out and brushing a tuft of hair behind Hanbin’s fire-engine red ear. He gently tugs on Hanbin’s wrist and places his hand back on the dip in his waist. “I like that.”

Hanbin pointedly distracts himself from what Hao had just said or any hidden meanings that could lie within by continuing their path faster to meet back up with the guys, but the scarlet of his chest betrays his unchanged facade, as always. As does the way he tugs Hao’s side in as close to his own as is physically possible. He kicks a can in the street out of the way so Hao doesn’t trip over it.

A minute of silence envelops them, listening to their friends tease Gunwook for how badly he’s struggling to keep his muscular but currently jello-like limbs straight as he walks. Within it, Hanbin attempts to swallow down any embarrassment he’s experiencing from trying to keep up with Hao. There’s no way he’s presenting himself as even half as cool with any marked success. It’s an unfortunate fact that he’s down bad, and he can sense it oozing from every pore. Or maybe that’s the stench of booze. Either way, he settles on not saying anything else on the walk back to Gyuvin’s home, soaking in the mere presence of Hao, who is once again humming What is Love under his breath. Hanbin notes that his voice is really pretty.

“Hey Hanbin-hyung, can you help?” Matthew brings Hanbin out of Hao Universe again and tilts his head, gesturing to Gunwook, who all three of them are struggling to get up the steps to the on-campus house. Hanbin lets go of Hao who doesn’t seem to be as tipsy anymore, jumping into action by placing his hands on Gunwook’s back to push him from behind. Hao laughs loudly from the sidelines as Gunwook repeatedly calls Hanbin, “A really, really good person,” “Captain hyongie,” and “My very, very best friend,” over and over again. Hanbin appreciates it, but by god, it would be great if he wouldn’t put all his weight on him while he does so. Ricky gives up and moves off to the side to converse with Hao in Mandarin. The two have become fast friends it seems, chattering on like a couple of old ahjummas, or rather, whatever it is they call the older women where they’re from.

When they get to the top of the stairs, Gyuvin unlocks the front door and holds it open for them to stumble in. “My roommates are all gone for the night so we don’t have to worry about being too loud!” After they enter, he closes it behind them adding, “But obviously let’s not get the cops called. Gunwook!”

“Dude, that was, like, one time!” He slurs, looking appalled by the comment, clutching his chest as he plops down onto the living room couch.

“Twice,” they all respond in unison. Aside from Hao, who can’t stop laughing with his head thrown back in glee.

“Whatever,” the inebriated, broadest friend retorts, kicking his shoes off before making himself comfortable across the secondhand couch. Gyuvin’s place is a typical guys’ college house, having very little decoration and modest furniture. Luckily, it is at least fairly clean since messiness tends to drive the swimmer’s roommates crazy, as he says. So, just a nondescript, wholly beige place, pretty empty aside from a coffee table, television, and some gaming consoles.

Hanbin opts for his usual spot crosslegged on the floor by the table as they settle in. Matthew sits under Gunwook’s legs on the couch, Gyuvin moves away to turn the TV on, and Ricky crouches down on the opposite end of the table from Hanbin, removing his designer blazer and draping it over the side. To his dismay, Hao opts to sit by him instead of Hanbin, neatly folding his legs beneath him before picking a fashion magazine up off the coffee table from a hefty stack of unopened mail and flipping through it.

“Alright, who’s getting their ass kicked in Mario Kart?” Gyuvin announces, passing out controllers to each of the guys.

“You wish!” responds Ricky, picking out the cherry red one from his hands.

“I’ll pass, but thank you,” Hao politely declines, setting down the magazine. He makes eye contact with Hanbin. “I’m honestly pretty tired, is there a room I can crash in?” A big yawn is covered by an even bigger hand, driving home his point.

“Oh, um,” Gyuvin’s eyes dart rapidly from each of the guys, to Hanbin, and back to Hao. “Yeah! Me and Rwick will take my room, of course-”

“I’ll sleep on the couch, thank you!” Ricky isn’t amused.

“Right, whatever you say. Anyway, there are only two open beds, so you’re going to have to room with with someone-”

“M-Meeee and hyongie, my Matt hyongieee,” Gunwook drawls, still drunk as a skunk. “We share, right?”

Gyuvin grins, like that was exactly what he wanted him to say. Hanbin notices that Matt does the same. How adorable is it that those two get to room together? Wait a second…

“So I’ll take Hanbin, then,” Hao states matter-of-factly. “I mean, that’s fine, right?”

Hanbin gulps hard enough that the whole room hears it, even over the Mario theme music, then clears his throat. “Yeah, sure, that’s cool. Whatever.”

He’s going to be sleeping. In a bed. With Zhang Hao. Oh no. He hadn’t prepared for this. Can he possibly be normal? It seems the liquid courage is slipping away. He needs to get a grip on reality.

He opens his mouth and bolts up without planning what he’s gonna say. He has to think on his feet. “Restroom. Be right back.” That works.

Rushed, he speed-walks to the bathroom in the hall that the guys always use when they stay there, shutting it fast before locking it behind him. Looking in the mirror, he gives himself a once-over to attempt to fix his slightly unkempt appearance. He slicks over the part in the center of his hair with a bit of water to get it out of his eyes, smooths his brows down, and retrieves some cherry chapstick from his pocket, gliding it over his lips. Would Gyuvin mind if he uses his mouthwash? Probably not, he decides, taking a swig straight from the container regardless of germs and swishing it violently around his mouth before spitting it out. Is he hyperventilating? Did he run too quickly to the bathroom and cause a sudden spike in his heart rate?

There’s a knock on the door, and it scares him so badly that if he hadn’t already peed, he thinks he would’ve soiled his pants right then and there. “Hyung? Are you okay? Did you throw up?”

Phew. It’s only Matthew. In lieu of answering, Hanbin’s body takes over and erratically opens the door. He then yanks his roommate into the bathroom before shutting it behind them both.

“What the fuck?! What’s going on?” Matthew says too loudly, to Hanbin’s embarrassment. The guys aren’t used to him acting so… crazy.

“Shh!” He attempts to quiet him down, whispering frantically, “I didn’t know I was gonna be sleeping in the same bed with him!!”

“What?” Matthew at first speaks at a normal level before correcting himself. “Oh, sorry. Uh, so what? That’s what you want, right?” He eyes Hanbin suspiciously. “I see the way you look at him, hyung, you can’t fool me. You want him!”

Hanbin’s eyes grow three sizes. “Stop!! It’s not like that! I just… really like Hao, okay?” He sighs, coming to grips with the situation and forgetting entirely about honorifics again. “I don’t wanna do anything that’s gonna mess that up. You know? The thought of moving too quickly or doing something we’d regret terrifies me.” His whispers are sharp and pointed. Hanbin is straight-up having a mini breakdown in his friend’s guest bathroom right now. And he can’t say anything like that’s ever happened to him before. Guess there’s a first for everything.

“Dude, no. It’s chill, I get it. You know Wookie and I have roomed together, like, ten times now, right?” He gives Hanbin a look that says Please Don’t Make Me Outright Admit That We’re In Some Kind Of Situationship And Have Been For Longer Than I’d Like To Admit Right Now. “Just because you’re both there doesn’t mean anything has to happen.”

But despite his advice, Hanbin’s panic only heightens. “I’m sorry but have you seen Zhang Hao?!” He places a finger to his pulse to be sure he’s not experiencing a major cardiac event and stares at his friend through the mirror. “And tonight on the walk here, you know what he said? He said he likes it when I take control! What the hell am I supposed to do with that, exactly??”

Matthew’s reflection looks shocked. “Hoo, boy… um…” Leave it to Hao to leave Hanbin’s most yappy friend completely speechless.

“And his lips… his waist… the Zhabs…..” Hanbin’s state has turned from anxious to horror-stricken, and Matthew’s “advice” is not helping whatsoever. “The Zhabs, Mattie!!”

“Dude! It’s fine! Calm down! You think that isn’t how I see… you know… him, too? Once, he said how great it was that I’m so small he could throw me around if he wanted to. Okay?! I’m suffering, too, you know!”

Ew. TMI. He didn’t need to know that. “Okay, well,” he turns to face him and is now whisper-yelling. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do? If you’re so experienced in this then you should know, right?!”

“Hanbin-hyung. Listen to me.” He seizes Hanbin by the shoulders and lightly shakes him, staring into his eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. Just tell him how you feel.”

“Is that what you did with Wookie?”

“Well, no. But-”

“Then why would I listen to you!!”

“You’re the one that asked me for advice!!!”

Now, why in the world is he still whisper-bickering with his roommate in a gross, sweaty bathroom while the most beautiful man on earth is just one room away from him and waiting for him to come back?

“This is pointless. Sorry I asked! Now go back out there before they think we’re doing something weird.”

Mattie chuckles. “You know, this is sort of weird, hyung, so-”

“Bye!!!” Hanbin unlocks the door and pushes Matthew out. He briskly splashes cold water on his face and pats it dry with a hand towel before taking a deep breath and heading out.

Well, that was entirely unhelpful.

When he returns to the living space, the guys on the swim team are all engaged in a rowdy game of Mario Kart, cutting each other off with shells and throwing bananas on the track. Hanbin smiles to himself at the sight, until he realizes someone’s missing. The corners of his mouth instantly fall.

“Wait, where’s Zhang Hao?”

“Blue shell, yes!!! Oh, Jjaeng Hay-oh; yeah, he went to sleep already. He said to tell you not to worry about going to bed too late since he’s a heavy sleeper. FUCK!” Gyuvin is interrupted mid-sentence by the game. “What the hell, Rwicky! That was my item box!! The betrayal!”

“Ha ha. Gotcha!” Ricky’s deadpan delivery is so classic him.

Wait, Zhang Hao went to sleep? Without him?

“Oh… I see.” He defeatedly lowers himself to sit on the arm of the couch, a little sad that Hao would excuse himself for the night without waiting for his return. Okay, a lot sad. You know what? No.

“Actually?” He bolts up again right away. “I’m pretty tired, too. Think I’ll see myself to bed. Which room is it, again…?” He’s apprehensive and disappointed that Hao’s more than likely asleep by now, sure. But he’ll take being apprehensive over being forced to play Mario Kart while attempting to imagine what Hao looks like sleeping, any day.

Gyuvin points to a door at the end of the hallway. “There, just. Don’t be too loud, please! GUNWOOK! What are you doing?! You totally just missed the turn!!”

“S-sorry Gyuvinie hyongie,” Gunwook murmurs, already half-asleep where he’s lying down. Matthew’s rubbing his legs with a pitiful look on his face, staring up at Hanbin.

Hanbin rolls his eyes at the comment and just walks away. He’s choosing peace today. Why? Because there’s a man much like a Greek god in just the next room and he’s not wasting another breath before making his way to him. “Goodnight, guys!” He waves them off and strides quickly down the hall. When he reaches the dark, quiet end of it, he just barely moves the door knob to open it, being sure the creaking sound it emits is minimal. Regardless of what Hao had said, he still wants to be as careful as possible not to wake him.

After shutting the door very softly behind him, he locks it. He justifies this by telling himself that for all he knows, Zhang Hao could be sleeping naked, or something.

Please, please tell me he’s not sleeping naked.

Turning to face the room, he takes in his surroundings. A soft, warm light glows in the corner, illuminating the area just enough to be able to make out the furniture so he doesn’t trip and fall over anything. There aren’t many visible features of the space otherwise, just the outline of a desk and a bookshelf, and of course, a wooden twin-sized bed. On it lies a lump on its side buried under the duvet, turned away and facing the wall from what he can tell.

Hanbin looks down at himself. There’s no way he can wear these pants to sleep. Uh oh. Should he go ask Gyuvin for some sweatpants? But wait… he really doesn’t wanna wake Hao up. Also, if he goes back out there, he knows he’s gonna be teased endlessly for being back already.

Hao’s already asleep anyway, right? Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t see him in his swim jammers every day, which are honestly even more revealing than a pair of boxer briefs- wait a minute, hold on. He actually wore his trunks today, didn’t he? The short little ones, his lucky red pair that hug tightly every curve? Oops. Not so much luck they’re bringing him now, are they?

Oh well, it’s fine. Heavy sleeper. In the morning, he’ll just wait for Hao to get up first, and he’ll never even know. Perfect plan. Everything’s fine, Hanbin. Deep breaths. He inhales, which turns into a severely shaky exhale. Cool. He undoes his pants and pulls them down in one fell swoop, stepping out one leghole at a time. He raises his shirt over his head in a hurry and tosses it onto the floor, wanting to get this over with. Quietly, sneakily, he pulls back the covers a smidge and climbs onto the bed with the prowess of a panther – or, at least, someone who’s not one-hundred-and-seventy-nine-point-nine centimeters tall. Luckily, it’s a high quality memory foam, so it barely even moves when he sneaks in and stretches his legs out under the blanket, tugging the sheets over his bare upper half despite the fact that he already feels like a fire is lit within him.

That wasn’t too bad. He congratulates himself on a job well done as he lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s covered in those tacky stick-on stars and planets that glow in the dark. He had them as a little kid, so they actually bring him a sort of solace, and he figures he’ll likely be out cold within the minute.

But no more than a minute passes before that notion is erased altogether.

“Hanbin-ah?” A tiny voice squeaks out. All of a sudden, the sheets start rustling.

The lump beside him he presumed to be asleep is turning to face him with two glassy, tired eyes. His own eyes shoot open wide as he snatches the top of the covers and pulls them up to his neck, concealing away his whole body as if the man next to him hadn’t already seen most of it before. Or, well- all of it, really. He’d forgotten that they shower together- no, not together! That’s not what he meant. Just, in the same room. Separate. Very much separate.

“Mhm.” He can’t think of anything to say. He’s just praying and manifesting that Hao doesn’t move any closer for fear he’s gonna think he’s some sort of pervert or something.

“Mmh-”

Out of nowhere, a cold arm snakes across his chest, the large hand attached settling on hugging the curve in his side – the very same spot he’d gripped on Zhang Hao earlier that evening. Hao uses the leverage to scoot his form all the way against Hanbin’s side, the profile of his face nuzzling into his collarbone, only a bit off from where he’d laid his head earlier on at the restaurant.

Hanbin can feel the older’s warm breath on his chest, and feel his whole arm hugging his body close- and, oh my god. He’s only wearing briefs, too. Hanbin finds this out when he awkwardly tries to find a place to put his arm and his hand accidentally grazes the top of the waistband. Fuck. Fuck! This isn’t good!

Hanbin audibly gulps, whispering shakily, “I- Sorry, um.” He eventually settles on just laying both hands flat on the bed to his sides, pretending that Hao isn’t wrapped around him like a koala bear, terrified of accidentally grazing over anywhere he shouldn’t if he were to try and make any other position work.

“Don’t be,” Hao giggles against the rapidly reddening skin on his upper pec, hot to the touch, his soft voice even gentler and prettier than Hanbin ever remembered it.

He can’t help but take detailed notes in his head of every curve of Hao’s chest, and abs, and legs… everywhere his flesh is pressed skin-to-skin against him. It’s too much, all the sensations: the coconut scent on locks of his hair that lay right beneath his nose, the eucalyptus and basil wafting from his deodorant, the texture of his leg hair, the chill from his refreshing lack of body heat. The goosebumps on his chest and torso where they touch. The flutter of his eyelashes against his collarbone tattoo. It’s all happening so fast. And he can’t escape. But would he really want to, anyway? It’s an easy thing to say when one isn’t being doused in the overwhelming essence of Zhang Hao. He’d probably drown in it, if he could. No, yeah; he most definitely would.

“Do you usually sleep like that?” Hao exhales, only a tiny sound.

“No, do you?” It’s not the most clever answer, but Hao’s hips are wriggling for a comfier position and it’s ruining his concentration.

“No.” His nose nuzzles into Hanbin’s neck.

This is closer than he’s been with another man in a long time. It’s… a lot. “No pajamas, huh?” Hanbin laughs nervously at himself, and the situation as a whole.

“Well, actually…” Hao begins making circles on Hanbin’s side with the pad of his thumb. “He did give me some. I just didn’t put them on.” His head tilts in the direction of the dresser in front of the bed, upon which lies the outline of a neatly folded stack of clothes.

Alright, cool. Totally cool. This is normal!

Hanbin is silent. He thinks about the stars on the ceiling. Thinks of what the pajamas may have looked like that Gyuvin lent out. Thinks of anything but what Zhang Hao just so easily admitted.

Hao’s voice breaks through again. “I know your body heat. I didn’t wanna sweat to death.” He passes it off as a joke. Hanbin feigns a laugh. But the fact of the matter is that Hao noticed a minute detail about him like that. They only just met, what, a few days ago?

“Exactly. That’s why I’m naked, too.”

Hao peers up at him through the strands of his hair, and it’s just barely light enough to see the circular shapes of his cheeks. He chuckles low, and Hanbin realizes he misspoke.

“No, not naked- you know what I meant.”

At his hip, Hao sneaks one finger only slightly past the waistband of his trunks and pulls it out several centimeters before letting go, making it slap against his skin.

“Ow- hey!!” Good thing it’s dark, or the cherry red creeping over the expanse of his skin would be very visible. Then again, Hao can feel the warmth of it anyway.

“Shhh!” He snickers, only hugging Hanbin tighter when his head lays back down. It’s as if he’s trying to meld them into one person the way he’s not letting there be a single part of them remaining un-squished together. Hanbin wishes he hated it, but alas. He actually doesn’t know how he ever slept without this before, Hao’s coolness meeting his heat and calming it down to a more suitable level for rest. Usually, he needs a fan aimed directly at him all night, but this will perfectly suffice.

Hanbin assumes that Hao’s going to tell him he’s going to sleep, so he’s surprised by the next question that breaks the quietude. “Do you… like me?”

Whoa, whoa, whoa… that’s…

“Uhh… I mean… what?” Hanbin’s voice is a little louder than intended. But how is he supposed to react to such a question?!

Hao props himself up with a hand under his chin to stare at Hanbin’s face, removing his head from his chest. He misses it right away. “You don’t hate me, do you? I know you’re used to being the best on the team.”

“I still am.”

Where did that come from? These are the kind of egotistical thoughts Sung Hanbin usually keeps buried deep inside, a thousand meters deep. But it was a knee-jerk reaction, probably due to how nervous he is at the moment — emphasis on “jerk.”

But he’s pleasantly surprised to see the corners of Hao’s mouth raise. He doesn’t get angry, or sad. He giggles. “Oh, is that so?”

“…Yeah. I know I’m the best. You don’t scare me.” This is so unlike Hanbin to let himself speak this way. He immediately regrets it. “I mean,” he backpedals, “I- I’m sorry. I’m just kidding.” Good save.

“No you aren’t.” Though it’s so dark in the room, Hanbin can still make out the sharpness of Hao’s gaze piercing directly into him. “But I’m into it.” Hao drops his head back onto Hanbin’s chest with a sigh. “We’re a lot alike, you know.”

Is he really not bothered by Hanbin’s cocky attitude? He’s constantly afraid of letting that side of himself be shown. A slip-up in his perfect model captain image could cost him his entire reputation. But maybe he can trust Hao. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they’re both cut from the same cloth.

“Such a Gemini,” Hao whispers into his warm skin with a tsk. Hanbin doesn’t really know what that means. “But you don’t hate me, then? You don’t mind teaching me?”

“N-no! Of course not. You’re…” He mulls over what is appropriate to say just a few days into knowing someone. “You’re actually really fun to be around.”

“Thanks,” murmurs Hao, calmly. “You too.” The sphere of the newcomer’s cheek flexes against his pectoral muscle. But out of the blue, before Hanbin can even begin to protest it, Hao detaches his body entirely, flipping over to face the wall again. Right away, it’s enough to make Hanbin frown. “Sweet dreams, Hanbin,” he says just loudly enough for him to hear, his voice low and serene.

Caught off guard by the sudden detachment, left yearning for the gentle touches that are no more, Hanbin whispers back. “You too, Zhang Hao. Goodnight.” It aches a bit, but he knows he needs to keep a distance between them. This is the right thing to do. If he’s going to win Hao over, he wants to do it the right way.

Though left on his back to stare up at the faux planetary bodies, his mind can’t shut down no matter how hard he tries to force it to. Even after ten minutes pass, he’s still tracing his fingers over himself: caressing that area above his hip with the ghost of Hao’s fingertips imprinted. Stroking the place his head was, imagining running hands through chestnut tresses the very same shade of his own but coarser, thicker. Gliding the pad of his thumb under his waistband, pressing into the still-stinging flesh beneath. It doesn’t quite suffice for the real thing, though; just slightly takes the edge off of his cravings.

Just as he’s finally reached a place teetering between sleep and lucidity, Hanbin hears a voice, speaking to him. Or, at least he thinks it’s real, and he thinks it’s to him. In this state, he’s not certain. But his mind hones in on it either way.

“Will you hold me, please? Just for a little while.”

Hanbin doesn’t know whether he’s awake or asleep. But he turns in the direction of the sound, scoots delicately toward it, and wraps both arms around the source of its origin, bringing it in to his body with an instinctive squeeze. It chills his overheated flesh pleasantly, just the perfect amount.

A dream or real life, no one could know. But as he drifts off, he pictures basking in the shade of coconut palms, running through fields of eucalyptus, and most of all, the calming scent of chlorine as he sinks and sinks to the very bottom of a pool — a pool in which he no longer fears drowning.