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A late night conversation at Survive, after closing. Talking about things they'll probably forget by the morning. Tucked into the far side of the booth by the window, only illuminated by a faint glow from outside.
When Ichiban laughs, his whole face lights up with it, and to Joon-gi the moment seems to slow, flowing thick and sweet like molasses. He takes in the freeze-frame of Ichiban’s perfectly lopsided smile. It radiates a soft, sleepy joy.
But as the moon’s rays hit Ichiban at just the right angle, spilling over his rounded cheeks, Joon-gi spies a subtle mark there, peeking out from the shadows.
With his interest piqued and his inhibitions lowered — their single-glass nightcap now feeling more like a full bottle — Joon-gi reaches out and touches Ichiban’s face, subtly urging him closer. Ichiban watches curiously, wide-eyed, but lets himself be pliant in Joon-gi’s hands. He turns his cheek towards Joon-gi, guided by the gentle contact.
A ghost of a scar catches the light. It starts below Ichiban’s eye and trails towards his ear, over the curve of his cheekbone. Joon-gi traces his thumb over the nearly invisible line, the rest of his hand still lingering on Ichiban’s jaw. He feels Ichiban’s skin grow warm under his touch.
“Oh, that one?” Ichiban lets out a quiet chuckle. The scar is more pronounced when he smiles, Joon-gi notices. It forms a crease across the softness of his cheek. “That's from my first run-in with the Geomijul. Grazed me with one of those bowguns.”
Joon-gi frowns. His finger hovers at the edge of the mark. “I didn't realize they cut you deep enough to scar…”
“It's fine, that was a long time ago. It's mostly faded, anyway.”
In silence, Joon-gi reverently caresses Ichiban’s cheek, with his fingertip tracing back and forth across the scar. Ichiban leans into the touch. He shuffles closer to Joon-gi, pressing against him with a sigh and letting his eyes fall shut.
Joon-gi’s quiet guilt is muted by a hazy, heavy warmth, settling over his head and clouding his thoughts. For reasons that he can feel profoundly but can't quite explain, he leans in and gently kisses the mark.
“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, with his face close enough that his breath skims over Ichiban’s cheek, before pulling away.
Even in the dim light, Joon-gi can see Ichiban blush. His lips are parted in slack surprise. His eyelashes flutter. “Oh… You really don't have to apologize, y'know. Wasn't your fault.”
“It's only right that I take responsibility,” Joon-gi says sweetly, with a charming smile.
Ichiban’s hand settles on Joon-gi’s knee. Joon-gi places his own hand over it, and laces their fingers together.
“I already got my payback for it,” Ichiban teases, then suddenly pouts. “I didn't leave any scars on you, did I?”
“Just the one.” He glances down at their joined hands, turning them towards the light until Ichiban can see a short, jagged mark shining silvery on his knuckles. “And it's my own fault, really — I got caught on that silly costume you were wearing.”
Ichiban lifts their intertwined hands to observe it. Then, wordlessly and without warning, he lowers his head and nuzzles against Joon-gi’s knuckles, his lips brushing across the scar. Joon-gi’s hand grips onto him a little tighter. Ichiban tenderly presses a kiss to it, one that lingers for a few long moments and yet feels all too short when they part.
“Are we even?” Ichiban asks as he looks up at Joon-gi.
“Sure.” Joon-gi’s attempt at a confident expression quickly slips into bashfulness. “But you're welcome to kiss me again, whenever you'd like.”