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Wet floor signs never seemed practical to Jihoon. When there’s a puddle on the floor, most people don’t need a sign to detect it; they’ll see the light being reflected off the water and know not to walk there. It’s common sense. Now, however, he’s starting to see their use. When he was ascending the stairs just moments ago in a frantic hurry to make it to his lecture on time, a wet floor sign at the top of the staircase would have been a lovely indication to slow down. Perhaps he wouldn’t have placed his foot directly onto a small pool of water at maximum velocity, which would then have prevented it from continuing forward with incredible inertia while the rest of his body stayed on the steps.
Unfortunately, it’s no time to lament the lack of wet floor sign, because Jihoon did indeed try to maintain his rapid pace right over a surprise puddle, and now he is falling backwards into the loving arms of the staircase behind him, unable to do anything but hope he doesn’t suffer any injuries. He prays as he falls that he’s able to pick himself up quickly enough to still make it to class on time. Before the stairs get the chance to catch him, though, he feels a person doing it instead, hands pressing firmly upward on his lower back as his head collides with a less-than-soft midriff. After taking a few seconds to process what’s just happened, he pushes himself onto his feet and whips around to face his savior.
It’s a guy he’s never seen before. He stands a few stairs down, but almost at face level, so he must be tall. His hair is light brown and tousled, and several prominent freckles dot his face in the shape of a crescent moon from his upper lip to his forehead. He fixes Jihoon with an unnecessarily charming smile, and his heart beats a little bit faster than it ought to.
“Watch your step,” he says, but Jihoon doesn’t have time to let himself get pissed off at the unneeded advice.
“Thanks,” he rushes, turning back around swiftly and stepping carefully around the spill on the tile before breaking into a sprint toward the lecture hall. He’s late anyway.
A week later, he decides to head to the student union for lunch, thinking he can put aside his hatred for the place for just one day to get one of the burritos he’s been craving. As he waits in line, he confirms that he actually can’t put aside his hatred for even one day, and he’s seconds from deciding to cut his losses and go home when the guy in front of him in the line decides to turn around as fast as humanly possible, swinging his very full messenger bag straight into Jihoon and knocking him clean out of the queue.
The explosion of pain in his right side momentarily distracts him from the fact that he should be smacking against the floor, but without too much delay, he realizes that somebody’s caught him before he could, feels a hand on his chest and another on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. Pivoting to face his rescuer, he finds himself faced with a strangely familiar crescent of freckles. Before the gears in his brain have time to start turning, he’s being spoken to.
“Oh,” the man says with a dazzling smile, and suddenly, memories from last week’s ordeal on the stairs come rushing back. “Hello again.” Jihoon tilts his head forward in a miniscule nod and glances around for any sign of his belongings on the ground, grateful when he finds nothing.
“Thanks.” He pushes past without another word, ignoring the odd feeling in his chest until he’s outside of the building and walking in the direction of his apartment. It’s only when he gets back that he realizes he forgot to get lunch.
Over the next few weeks, winter starts to rear its head around campus, adorning everything with an annoying layer of frost each morning. One particularly cold day following an evening rain, Jihoon makes the mistake of wearing shoes with too little traction to handle the thin ice sheets spreading over all the sidewalks, and just as he’s rounding the corner to head into a building for class, his feet fail to gain purchase on the glazed concrete, gliding forward without him.
It’s unsettling how he almost isn’t surprised when his body doesn’t make contact with the ground. He doesn’t want to expect the same face to greet him when he turns to identify whoever’s caught him this time, but despite his iron will, he expects it anyway. His expectations aren’t disappointed.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” the guys says through a cunning smile, eyes twinkling.
“I agree,” Jihoon says, shuffling over the ice with a little more care, but apparently, this man isn’t ready to let him go just yet.
“I’ll give you my number,” he calls out suddenly, and Jihoon spins around so fast he almost slips again.
“What?” He’s offered no explanation for the random declaration as a small scrap of paper is frantically scribbled on and thrust in his direction. He doesn’t want to take it—he knows he’s not going to call it—but he reaches out anyway, hoping this will end the interaction as quickly as possible.
“I’m Junhui, but you can call me Jun.” Has his voice always been this much like honey? “Actually, you can just call me.” He flashes a sly smirk and walks off, leaving Jihoon completely stunned, shred of paper clutched tightly in his fist.
He doesn’t want to put the number in his phone, and he doesn’t. He refuses to call it. It’s probably a prank number anyway; nobody just gives their number to somebody like that. Yet he can’t bring himself to throw it away, either, so it just sits under a paperweight on his desk, collecting dust and drawing his attention for just a moment each time he sits down to do work.
Jun doesn’t make another appearance, and before Jihoon realizes it, classes are over for the semester. With the crunch to study for finals, Soonyoung’s annual Christmas party sneaks up on him like a snake in tall grass; if not for a phone call the day before to remind him, he would have missed it completely. The evening of, he knocks on the door of Soonyoung’s apartment just a few minutes before the party’s meant to start, and after a brief spell of waiting, the door swings open to reveal Seokmin, who is clad in a very oversized and very tacky sweater featuring Santa Claus and one of his beloved reindeer. It’s even complete with little sleigh bells that jingle as he ushers Jihoon into the apartment.
“Welcome, welcome!” he beams, pulling Jihoon inside by the shoulder. “Early as always, I see.”
“And you look ridiculous as always.” Seokmin erupts into uproarious laughter and slaps him on the back as they enter the living room.
“I picked that sweater out, you know,” Soonyoung calls from the couch, clad in an equally horrendous garment displaying a tree decked out with working lights. “We look great.”
A retort is just forming on Jihoon’s lips when he notices that someone else has also arrived early and is sitting adjacent to Soonyoung on the couch. When he turns his gaze, he makes eye contact with someone he certainly hadn’t been expecting to encounter again.
“Oh yeah, let me introduce you,” Soonyoung says when he catches the pair looking at each other. “Jihoon, this is Jun. He was in one of my dance classes this semester. Jun, this is—”
“We’ve met, actually,” Jun interrupts, gaze unrelenting. He’s wearing a cream-colored turtleneck and looking weirdly soft, and Jihoon isn’t sure he likes how is heartbeat is responding to it. Soonyoung looks between them in confusion.
“You have?” He strokes his chin pensively for a minute before understanding flashes in his eyes. “Is he the guy you were talking about wh—”
“Yeah.” He sends a very sharp look in Soonyoung’s direction to shut him up, and Jihoon raises his eyebrows. Jun turns his twinkling eyes back to Jihoon, a thin smile playing at his lips. Further conversation is stalled when another knock is heard on the door and Wonwoo storms in with a very boisterous Mingyu close at his heels. The rest of the invitees arrive quickly after that, filing in one-by-one until the living room is packed and the festivities can finally commence.
Jihoon doesn’t encounter Jun again until well after the party has started and he’s gotten a substantial amount of alcohol-ridden eggnog in his system. His sleeve snags on a stray hook sticking dangerously out of the wall as he ambles around the doorway, sending him stumbling back into Jun, who seems to be consistently present whenever something like this happens. Jihoon sighs as he shuffles forward to extract the obstacle from his shirt. He plans on ignoring Jun, but evidently, they aren’t on the same wavelength.
“Hey.” Against his instincts, Jihoon turns to look at him at the sound of his voice, immediately cursing at himself for doing so. Once he’s made eye contact, though, it’s too late to look away, and maybe it’s just the drinks he’s had, but part of him wants to take a step closer. It has to be the drinks; he won’t let it be anything else. He digs his heels into the ground.
“Hi.” The way those eyes are resting on him is making his face much warmer than it needs to be right now. “Can I help you with something?”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Jihoon can’t quite tell if the vague hurt in his voice is faux or genuine, but he’s having trouble focusing on anything other than the smoothness of his tone.
“Huh?” Jihoon grunts, blinking bemusedly. “I never said I would call you.” Jun chuckles lightly, dropping his head, and that sure is a beautiful sound.
“I guess that’s true,” he concedes, “but I was hoping you would anyway.” He shifts his weight and takes a sip of eggnog. Jihoon hates himself for watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he drinks.
“Well, I’m not going to.”
“That’s a shame, Jihoon,” he says, placing extra emphasis on the final word to make sure Jihoon knows that he knows his name now, that they’re on equal footing. Jihoon narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“Why do you want me to call you, anyway?” he huffs, starting to get annoyed. Guys this handsome don’t just appear out of thin air and give out their numbers; there’s always something funny going on. Not that Jihoon is admitting he’s handsome in any way but objective. Certainly not.
“I think you’re cute.” An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air between them, penetrated only by Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree playing softly from the next room over. Jihoon stares blankly at Jun’s grinning mug, unable to conjure any emotion but surprise. He must have heard that wrong.
“You what?” he asks, dumbfounded. Jun rests a hand on his shoulder and leans in much too close. Jihoon hopes his face isn’t as red as he knows it is.
“I think you’re cute,” Jun repeats in a low voice, “and I’d like to get to know you better.” Warm breath against Jihoon’s ear sends a chill up his spine, and he remains acutely aware of the hand still clasping his shoulder when Jun leans back. Now certain he didn’t mishear, Jihoon doesn’t do anything but look forward wordlessly; rather, that’s all he can do. He has no idea what he should say, and he gets the feeling it’s not only because of the alcohol. His brain struggles to wrap around the words while his mouth struggles to formulate a response.
“Uh,” he manages finally, and Jun just smirks in return, squeezing his shoulder lightly.
“Also,” Jun begins, “I hate to bring this up now, but…” He trails off, bringing his free hand up to point to the top of the doorframe above him. Jihoon follows it with his eyes, all the way until he sees a small bunch of green with little white berries in it taped up unceremoniously. Jihoon’s eyes widen as he glances frantically back and forth between the mistletoe and Jun. He’s not about to kiss a man he barely knows. Just as he begins to shake his head, Soonyoung and Seokmin materialize out of nowhere as a unit.
“Finally!” Seokmin screams excitedly. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen all night!”
“No, I’m not—”
“You have to, Jihoon,” Soonyoung pleads desperately, not giving him a chance to finish. “Please. We didn’t spend five dollars on that to have nobody kiss under it.”
“Why don’t you two just kiss under it?” Soonyoung sighs tiredly, like this is his millionth time hearing the question.
“It’s no fun if you do it on purpose,” he explains exasperatedly.
“Plus,” Seokmin adds with a giggle, “we’ve already kissed under it like six times since this morning. We don’t count anymore.”
Rolling his eyes, Jihoon turns back to face Jun, whose face overflows with amusement. He raises his eyebrows. Jihoon shrugs. Before he has any more time to process what’s happening, his mouth is being completely overtaken. He barely registers the sound of Soonyoung and Seokmin howling beside him. His senses are much more focused on the hand cupping his chin, the surprisingly soft lips pressed against his own, the faint taste of gingerbread. It’s over too quickly, leaving Jihoon both motionless and breathless as Jun pulls away. It takes every ounce of willpower in him not to lean in for another kiss, and this has to be a side effect of the eggnog.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Soonyoung says, but his words are water running through the drain of Jihoon’s consciousness, gone just as soon as they arrive. A hand hits his back in a firm pat, but he doesn’t feel it. The only thing on his mind is Jun: the look in his eyes right now, the way his lips tasted just a moment ago, the fact he called Jihoon cute. It’s all too much for him to handle.
Everything happens in a flash. Jihoon has no idea how, but at the end of the night, he winds up at Jun’s apartment. A trail of sloppy kisses leads them from the doorway to the bedroom, stumbling over the carpet and each other until they fall down on the mattress. They get tangled up in one another under the sheets, a mass of sweaty limbs and pounding hearts, the heat of the moment washing over them in wave after wave of thoughtless decisions. When Jihoon wakes up in the morning and sees his clothes on the floor, he cradles his head in his hands. There’s no way he just did that.
“Morning.” Jun leans against the doorframe with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. A loose undershirt reveals very clearly a mark on his neck that Jihoon wants to pretend he doesn’t remember making. The grin coming from over the top of the mug isn’t helping. “Sleep well?”
“Just dandy, thanks,” Jihoon answers, avoiding eye contact with all his might. He heaves himself out of bed and starts collecting his clothes from the pile they’ve created on the floor, donning each item as he picks it up. He can feel Jun’s eyes on him, but he acts like he can’t until he’s finished getting dressed. “Well, I’ve gotta go.” Jun slides to the side to allow Jihoon through the door, and Jihoon feels like he’s somehow making his escape too easily.
“Will you call me?” His voice stops Jihoon’s feet as he tries to slip out the front door. Of course he wouldn’t just let him go. Jihoon can’t quite blame him, though. He hazards to throw a glance back, finds Jun standing in the same spot, same smile on his face.
“Maybe.” Without another word, he’s out the door and homeward bound, walking as quickly as possible out of the building. Once he meets the sidewalk, he ramps up his pace even more, desperate to get home and act like nothing ever happened. Of all the very not-Jihoon things to do in the world, hooking up with a guy you hardly know after a Christmas party just about tops the list.
“Where have you been?” Seungcheol asks when he gets back to their apartment. As a roommate, he’s pretty mindful: he usually doesn’t get into Jihoon’s business, and he’s not prone to asking too many questions. This time, though, Jihoon figures he probably deserves an explanation.
“I slept over somewhere,” he says, not quite willing to admit the full extent of ‘slept’ and ‘somewhere.’ “Sorry. I forgot to let you know.”
“Get too drunk and stay the night at Soonyoung’s place?”
“I wasn’t that drunk, actually,” he admits, vivid memories of the previous evening flashing once again in his mind and tinting his cheeks. Seungcheol just raises his eyebrows in search of more detail, and Jihoon figures there may not be a point in trying to hide anything from him, so he explains everything: Jun, the mistletoe, everything after the party. With each additional word, he watches Seungcheol’s jaw drop just a little further downward, and he regrets not keeping his own mouth shut.
“You’re telling me you slept with a guy you don’t even know and stayed at his apartment?” Seungcheol bellows incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air. “Are we even talking about the same Jihoon right now?”
“The one and only.” Jihoon sighs, bringing a hand to cover both eyes. “I do kind of know him, though.”
“Well, kind of knowing someone isn’t the same thing, is it?” He exhales a large breath and rolls his eyes. “Sheesh. I know I’m overreacting a little bit here, but… this is the most surprising thing I’ve heard since Soonyoung and Seokmin got together.” Jihoon stares at him quizzically, allowing a few seconds of silence before retorting.
“Seriously? That was the least surprising thing that has ever happened.” Seungcheol gazes back with wide eyes.
“For real?” he scoffs, stroking his chin. “I was pretty surprised…”
“Anyway,” Jihoon groans, “I’m surprised by myself too.”
“As long as it’s not just me this time.”
When Jihoon retires to his bedroom, the little snippet of paper on his desk screams at him immediately, tells him to give Jun a call, but he ignores its cries, reclining onto his bed and pulling his headphones on. He uses music to drown out the entire past 24 hours completely, and soon enough, he’s convinced nothing even happened. He hasn’t left his apartment at all since yesterday, hasn’t gone to any parties, hasn’t consumed any alcohol, and certainly hasn’t slept with anyone. He doesn’t have any calls to make, either.
With the next two weeks comes Soonyoung’s New Year’s party, and Jihoon almost forgets about Jun completely until they come face-to-face in Soonyoung’s living room again. There’s no mistletoe this time, but that doesn’t stop anything. It doesn’t stop him from having a bit more champagne than he knows he ought to. It doesn’t stop him from being too close to Jun when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn’t stop him from being pulled in for a New Year’s kiss, and it certainly doesn’t stop him from making all the same bad decisions as last time and waking up in Jun’s apartment with his clothes in a pile on the floor. It doesn’t stop him from saying he might call again and not doing it.
Soonyoung decides to throw another party before classes resume, one last hurrah to lament the beginning of the new semester. Jihoon knows he shouldn’t go; he’s got an awful hunch that he’ll bump into Jun again and a worse hunch that he won’t be able to stop himself from making the ordeal from the Christmas party into a threepeat. He goes anyway, though, because he can’t just not.
There’s not a single reason for him to kiss Jun at this party. No mistletoe, no New Year’s tradition, nothing. But he does it anyway. Loops his arms around his neck when he’s presented with the chance and pulls their lips together, intoxicated by the subtle hints of sweetness on his tongue. Jun doesn’t do anything to push him off, and before too long, they’re finding their way to Jun’s bed in the dark once again.
Jihoon knows this has to stop from the second he wakes up. He stares at the ceiling emptily for a long time, gathering his thoughts, and when he looks up, Jun’s there, same place and mug and smile as always. Jihoon sighs.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he says, and Jun just smirks back at him.
“I agree.” A pause as Jihoon gets dressed, gathers his things, walks toward the door. “Will you call me, then?” His voice is hopeful.
“Maybe.”
But he won’t. Jihoon knows it, and by now, Jun probably does, too. He’s got no reason to call. What’s he going to do if he does, ask Jun out on a date? And sure, maybe they could go out on a date or two. Maybe they could even date in the real sense— a couple, an item, together. But for how long? Until Jun decides he’s really only cute from a distance and it would be best for them to stop seeing each other? Until he realizes that they have no reason to be together anymore, that they never had a reason to begin with? It’s bound to happen sooner or later.
Jihoon’s nipping this bud before it blooms. He has no desire for a relationship and its unavoidable messy end, and he doesn’t want to continue these casual hookups either, knows it’s not right to keep doing this to Jun when he’s clearly after something else. For the last time, he makes the walk back to his apartment from Jun’s, scraping his heels over the concrete, and when Seungcheol doesn’t ask any questions upon his arrival home, he holes himself back up in his room, ignoring the scrap of paper still sitting on his desk like he always does.
He doesn’t see Soonyoung again until a few weeks after classes have begun, bustling across campus with an empty-looking backpack and a cheesy grin. He flags Jihoon down from across the walkway enthusiastically. “Are you headed to class right now?” he asks once he’s within earshot, and when Jihoon shakes his head, he takes it upon himself to guide them into the student union to have lunch together. Jihoon shudders; this is the first time he’s been back here since the incident last semester, and to make matters even worse, Soonyoung pulls him along into the burrito line.
“The last time I was in that line, some guy smacked the hell out of me with his book bag,” Jihoon recounts. Soonyoung nods knowingly.
“And then Jun stopped you from falling on the ground,” he continues, taking a substantial bite of his burrito. Jihoon’s eyes widen against his will.
“What?” Soonyoung forces himself to swallow quickly, gazing back with equal confusion.
“Huh?”
“Why do you know about that?”
“Why do I what?” he asks, tearing off another bite and very obviously playing dumb.
“Why do you know about that?” Jihoon repeats, but he just shrugs it off and keeps eating. Once he finishes chewing, he speaks again.
“Anyway, speaking of parties—”
“Which we were not.” A broad smile settles on Soonyoung’s features.
“Oh, we weren’t? Anyway, Seokmin and I are throwing a party this Friday night, and you should come.” Jihoon sighs.
“What kind of party?”
“Oh, you know.” He waves his hands around absently in an attempt to summon words. “Just a get-together. We’ll probably marathon some movies or something. Seokmin’s been going on about Jaws since last Wednesday.” Jihoon rubs his chin in thought, then parts his lips to utter the response he already knew he would say.
“I don’t think I can make it. I have a lot of assignments due.” Soonyoung takes in a deep breath, then lets out a very drawn out sigh.
“If you think that I can’t tell when you’re lying after all these years,” he begins disappointedly, “then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” Now it’s Jihoon’s turn to sigh. Before he can retort, though, Soonyoung’s talking again. “Are you trying to avoid Jun?”
“Wh—I… What?” Soonyoung doesn’t look like he’s about to be convinced of anything otherwise, but Jihoon makes an attempt anyway. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” he says in a voice that implies he does know. “I’m sure it can’t have anything to do with you two leaving my apartment together three times in a row.” He levels his keen gaze, but Jihoon isn’t planning on budging. Eventually, his smile returns. “Anyway, Jun told me he can’t come on Friday, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Despite Jihoon’s fierce maintenance of his claim about lots of assignments being due, he ends up giving in anyway, Soonyoung refusing to be deterred by anything. He consoles himself with Jun’s promised absence, and by the time Friday rolls around, he’s convinced himself it’ll be just fine.
Upon taking his first steps into the apartment, a face bearing an all-too-familiar freckle crescent is the first thing to catch his attention, and he hates himself for noticing so quickly. He pointedly avoids making eye contact as he strides past to grab Soonyoung and pull him into the kitchen, but he feels eyes on him with each step. Once they’re alone, Soonyoung fixes him with a foolish grin and eyes full of bafflement, but Jihoon isn’t in the mood to indulge him.
“What’s the problem?” he asks cheerfully.
“You know damn well what the problem is,” Jihoon struggles not to shout. He cuts his voice to a menacing whisper. “You said he wouldn’t be here.”
“So you admit you were trying to avoid him!” He lets the smile drop from his face at Jihoon’s continued silent glare. “Yeah, I lied. You need to talk to him.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” Soonyoung insists. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him smile since the last party I threw, Jihoon, and I see him damn near every day.”
“Well, what’s that got to do with m—”
“A lot.” His eyes are suddenly very hard, and Jihoon is having a tough time meeting them. “He hasn’t stopped whining about how you haven’t called him for months. Seriously. Before the Christmas party, he refused to shut up about the cutest guy ever that he saw and coincidentally saved from falling down three times, or how he gave him his number and never got a call. He whined every single day.” He plants a hand firmly on Jihoon’s shoulder, dropping his voice. “And now, Seokmin and I have to use code names when we talk about you because he pouts every time he hears your actual name.” Soonyoung shakes his head sadly. “I wish I was making this up.”
“I… don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” Soonyoung chirps, smile bouncing back to his lips. “Just go get my phone from my bedroom.”
“Why can’t you get it?”
“What?” Soonyoung calls, backing swiftly out of the kitchen. “I can’t hear you. I’m already in the living room.” Jihoon heaves a sigh of defeat, shuffling to the bedroom on the other side of the kitchen.
It doesn’t take him long to ascertain that there is no phone to be retrieved in the room, and it takes just as little time for Soonyoung to appear at the door with Jun in tow and give him a forceful push into the room. Without giving Jihoon any time to react, he’s shut the door, leaving just the two of them together. The sound of something very heavy being dragged across the floor indicates that they’re being barricaded inside, and Jihoon wishes he had never met Soonyoung at all.
The air is heavy with unspoken words when he finally drags his eyes up to look at Jun’s, a tense silence hanging between them as they just stare silently at one another. The quiet is suffocating, but he isn’t sure how to break it. If he’s being completely honest with himself, half of what’s going through his mind is the raw urge to pull Jun in for a kiss; frankly, it’s distracting him from the matter at hand, and he would love for it to stop. Fortunately, Jun’s the first one to speak.
“Hey,” he says simply. He tries his best to sound casual, but there’s more than just a hint of fragility at the back of his voice. Jihoon feels like he’s been kicked in the chest.
“Hi,” he replies. Jun takes a step closer, and it’s everything in him not to back up, to look away from those pained eyes, to run. He maintains his gaze as Jun rolls words around in his mouth, searching desperately for what he wants to say.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he says after a while, and he doesn’t even attempt to hide the hurt this time, lets it drip from every word. “Or, why won’t you?”
“I just…” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t want…” He moves his hands in circles, clenching and unclenching his fists to find the right string of syllables to say what he means. “I can tell you want something that I don’t.”
“Something you don’t?” His expression is hard to read. “Like, a relationship?”
“Yes.” Jun is silent for a moment.
“Well, maybe,” he allows weakly. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
“Maybe?” Jihoon doesn’t try to hide his puzzlement. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”
“Probably,” he corrects, taking another step closer. “It’s probably what I want.” He’s close enough now to reach out and touch Jihoon, so he does, letting his knuckles graze his cheek. “But all I really want is one date.”
“One date?” Jihoon repeats numbly. He doesn’t dare move, unsure whether he should shy away from Jun’s touch or lean into it, and he has no idea which option his instincts are telling him.
“Just one,” he confirms with a nod. “Now, hopefully there would be more than one. Hopefully.” He shuts his eyes and releases one even breath. “But one is all I’m asking for.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” The dismay is plain on Jun’s face. “Sorry.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Jihoon snaps, suddenly miffed. “I’ll tell you why not. When you decide at the end of the night that you don’t like me as much as you thought you would, I’m the one that’s gonna be hurt over it.” Jun opens his mouth to speak, but Jihoon keeps going. He’s having difficulty controlling the shake in his voice. “And even if you don’t, at some point down the line, you’re gonna realize I’m not what you want, and I would really rather not go through that.”
“So it doesn’t hurt me when you decide on your own that I’m good enough to have sex with but not worth getting to know? Is that what you’re telling me?” His eyes are shining with a mixture of anger and pain that Jihoon doesn’t want to confront.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Well, it sounds like that’s what you’re saying.” He leans in a bit closer, until Jihoon can’t look anywhere but into his eyes. “I like you, Jihoon. And I think I would like you more if you gave me the chance.” He sighs in frustration. “You might even like me, too, but we won’t know if we don’t try.”
Jihoon stares back at him quietly, weighing the thoughts in his mind. As much as he’d like to think he’s not so easy, he can’t deny that Jun’s already charmed him half to death. Even with the seriousness of their conversation, it’s taking every last ounce of his willpower to keep his hands off him. His eyes, his freckles, the collarbones peeking out from under his shirt. He hates to admit that he’s been sold since Christmas, but there’s no point in acting like it’s not true now, not when there’s no other way to explain why he kept coming back to him in the first place. He’s stunned it took him until right now to realize it when he’s usually so quick to understand.
“I think I already do like you,” he admits softly, testing the words on his tongue. When he doesn’t mind the way they feel, he nods. “Yeah. I think so.” Jun looks like he wants to say something, but he holds his tongue, eyes waiting patiently for Jihoon to continue. “But I’m scared,” he whispers, and he’s shocked by how small his own voice sounds.
“That’s okay,” Jun reassures him gently, voice back to the smoothness Jihoon remembered hearing in it before. “I’m scared, too.” Jihoon raises his eyebrows suspiciously, the ideas of Jun and fear not quite coinciding in his head. “Seriously. I was scared when I gave you my number, I was scared when I kissed you under the mistletoe, and I’m scared now.” Jihoon can’t help letting out a breathless laugh.
“You’re easier to scare than you look.”
“What can I say?” A grin tugs at his lips. “You scare me.” They watch each other for a good minute, both barely managing to suppress small smiles. “So,” Jun begins hesitantly after a while, “can we give it a shot?” Jihoon ponders a moment before responding.
“I guess we can.” Jun’s smile blossoms into its full form, just as dazzling as the first time he saw it, and the upward curve of Jihoon’s lips refuses to be held down any longer. A few moments of silence pass by before he says anything else. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?”
“Did you want me to?” Jun asks, full of surprise.
“I mean,” he shrugs, “it kinda feels like you should.” Jun rolls his eyes.
“If you want me to kiss you, you can just ask. It’s not like I’m about to say no.”
“Will you, then?” Jun chuckles lightly.
“Sure.” He leans in, and Jihoon hardly has time to take another breath before their lips are being pressed together. It’s somehow deeper now than the times before, more comfortable, and he feels warmth bubbling up in his chest, threatening to burn him up from the inside. He lets his hands wander to Jun’s back, pulling him just a little closer. Not enough time has elapsed when Jun separates their lips again, leaning away with a smug grin. “This works both ways, by the way,” he says, and Jihoon pulls him right back down.
After a few more minutes, the sound of scraping reaches their ears from outside the door. Though they can hear the door creak open, they refuse to release their hold on each other, instead turning their heads as a unit to see who’s coming to pay a visit. Soonyoung pops his head in through a crack, beaming cheerfully.
“I see I was worried about you two for no reason,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Got everything all talked out?”
“Do you need something?” Jihoon asks with a sigh.
“Must I need something to be present in my own room?” Soonyoung asks, voice full of outrage. “I should be asking why you’re here.”
“You shut us in here,” Jun points out.
“I know,” he says cheerfully. “That’s why I’m not asking.” He glances between their faces a few times quickly, smile unfading. “Anyway, you guys are about to miss half of the movie, so I came to get you.”
“Give us one more minute,” Jihoon says. Soonyoung narrows his eyes.
“Sure,” he allows, “but just remember that’s my bed, and I have to sleep there later. Don’t do anything unholy in my home.” Without another word, he backs out of the room and eases the door shut.
“What is it?” Jun asks once they’re alone again, and Jihoon shrugs.
“I just wanted another minute,” he confesses. Jun snickers quietly.
“We really are going to miss half the movie, you know.” Jihoon nods knowingly, smile creeping back to his face.
“I’m okay with that.”