Archive of Our Own ^beta

The party was already in full swing. Music throbbed from the speakers, and everywhere around War, people stood in clusters, laughing, talking, soaking in the atmosphere. He lingered a little on the side, watching it all unfold. He had known beforehand that the party wouldn’t quite be what he had imagined it to be for him, but if he was honest, it wasn’t bad at all. The room was warm and cozy, decorated with red fairy lights and pink streamers that someone had very clearly bought in excessive quantities. Heart-shaped confetti already clung stubbornly to the carpet, and from the speakers blared a playlist of cheerful love songs, loud enough that any conversation inevitably required people to lean closer together.

It was a good party, and yet it didn’t feel quite right to him.

War picked up a cup from the kitchen counter, filled with something fruity that was probably far too sweet for his taste, and let himself be carried along by the flow of people in the room. He greeted friends and nodded along to conversations about exams and the overwhelming workload they all had at university. He overheard discussions about how Valentine’s Day was, depending on who you asked, either the best or the worst holiday of the year.

He smiled when it was appropriate and laughed at the right moments. And every few minutes, without him meaning to, his gaze drifted toward the door.

He told himself it was just a habit. Nothing more. But War had always perceived Yin’s presence unconsciously at parties; his quiet laughter and the way he leaned against War’s shoulder when he laughed.

Tonight, though, was different, because he was here alone. Well, not alone exactly; his friends were here. Just not Yin.

He wasn’t coming because he had a family dinner to attend. He had told War two days ago and War had assured him it was fine.

But still…

War leaned back against a wall and took a sip of his drink. It tasted of strawberries and alcohol, the kind he might regret tomorrow.

“Wow,” someone said from his left. “You look like you can’t decide whether you want to dance or run away.”

War didn’t need to look to know who it was. “Nice to see you too, Phueng.”

Phueng grinned, her lips curling upward. “I’m serious. You’ve been here ten minutes and already look like someone personally betrayed you.”

“Nah…,” War said. “I’m just tired.”

“Mhm.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You sure there’s no other reason?”

War stiffened slightly. “What?”

Phueng rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. Do I have to spell it? Fine… if Yin were here, you wouldn’t look like this.”

“This has nothing to do with him,” War said quickly.

She studied him for a moment, then grinned. “Sure. And I’m single by choice.”

Before he could reply, Mark appeared on War’s other side and draped an arm around his shoulders. “The drinks are flowing, the music’s good, and yet you look like you lost a favorite toy.”

“I don’t,” War retorted.

“You’re radiating longing,” Mark countered. “Hard to miss.”

War sighed and let his head rest against the wall. “Can you two please not do this?”

“Do what?” Phueng asked innocently.

“Whatever this is,” he gestured between the two of them, “this…interrogation.”

Mark laughed. “Relax. We’re just noticing patterns and having a little fun at your expense.”

“There are no patterns.”

Phueng raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

Luckily, they didn’t push it further. Instead, the conversation thankfully shifted to gossip about mutual friends and speculation about who might be going home with whom tonight. War nodded along, but his attention drifted again despite himself.

Yin would have liked this party, he thought absently. He would have hovered near the buffet, making sure the two of them were constantly supplied with snacks. He would have laughed too loudly at Mark’s jokes and tried to drag War onto the dance floor, even if War resisted.

War forced the thought away, finished his drink, set the empty cup aside, and let himself be pulled toward the center of the living room as the music grew louder and more energetic.

He danced or something like it. Enough movement to blend in and to feel the bass vibrating through his bones.

Someone bumped into him—on purpose. A man he vaguely recognized, tall, with a charming smile, whose gaze lingered just a moment too long.

“Hey,” the guy said, leaning in so War could hear him. “You’re War, right?”

“That’s me,” War replied, polite but distant.

“I’ve seen you around before. You dance like you don’t really want to be here.”

Despite himself, War laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” The man smiled. “I’m Eli.”

They danced for a while, but War kept a certain distance. Eli was nice, smiled easily, and there were probably plenty of people who would have enjoyed dancing with him a great deal more than War did. His hand hovered near War’s waist without ever quite touching it, as though waiting for permission.

War waited for the spark, for interest to flare up—for anything that might make him turn toward Eli instead of subtly pulling away.

But it didn’t come.

“Listen,” War said after a moment, raising his voice slightly over the music. “You seem great, but—”

“But you’re emotionally unavailable,” Eli finished the sentence good-naturedly.

War blinked. “Is it that obvious?”

Eli laughed. “A little. Don’t worry. Valentine’s Day does that to people.” He gave War a friendly squeeze on the arm and stepped back. “Take care, yeah?”

“Yeah,” War said quietly. “You too.”

When Eli disappeared back into the crowd, War let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. He felt ridiculous. This wasn’t some tragic love story. Yin was his best friend. His friend. He was allowed to miss him without it meaning more than that, wasn’t he? They were friends and nothing more. And that was how it was supposed to stay. A small crush, or whatever this was, wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

Time passed quickly and War laughed more easily as the alcohol softened his edges a little. He wasn’t drunk, just looser than he had been an hour ago. He danced again, this time with Mark and Phueng, all three of them deliberately exaggerating awkward moves and earning applause and mockery from the others.

For a while, it was almost enough.

And then someone put on a slower song.

A collective groan rippled through the room, followed by delighted shrieks as couples paired off. War stood awkwardly at the edge of the dance floor, hands shoved into his pockets, suddenly acutely aware of the empty space beside him.

Mark leaned over. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” War said. “I just need a bit of fresh air.”

He slipped out onto the balcony, the night air brushing against his face. Behind him, the music thumped on, muffled.

War rested his forearms on the railing and stared out, his thoughts drifting—inevitably—back to Yin, despite all his efforts to rein them in.

Annoyed, War shook his head. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering briefly over Yin’s name before he stopped himself. No. He didn’t want to be that guy. Yin was with his family. He didn’t need a tipsy message from his best friend, as if War couldn’t manage on his own.

He put the phone away and went back inside.

Phueng intercepted him almost immediately and pressed a cupcake into his hand.

“Eat,” she ordered. “You get more broody when you’re hungry.”

War snorted. “You make it sound like I’m turning into the Hulk.”

“Trust me,” she said. “We all know how you are when you’re hungry. But normally Yin feeds you before you become unbearable.”

He took a bite. The cupcake tasted like chocolate and was definitely too sweet. “You’re all terrible friends.”

“And yet,” Mark chimed in from behind them, “you love us.”

War smiled despite himself.

Someone turned the music up even louder, kicking the party back into the right atmosphere. With the cupcake still in his hand, War leaned against the wall and felt a little steadier. His gaze slid to the front door once more, and he braced himself for it to remain closed yet again. Just as he was about to look away, he saw it open after all.

His heart did something strange—a small, hopeful jolt that made no sense at all, because it was obvious that it wouldn’t be Yin.

And as it turned out, it wasn’t Yin. Of course not.

Someone War didn’t know slipped in and closed the door behind them, and War found himself glancing at the front door for a moment longer, as if Yin might walk through at any second.

He rolled his eyes at himself.

He wasn’t entirely sure why Yin’s absence stood out to him so much today. Of course, he always noticed when Yin wasn’t there, but at this party, his absence felt almost like phantom pain—like something that should have been there, but simply wasn’t. 

It was ridiculous. Yin was probably having a wonderful time with his family right now, and here he was, moping around, as if he simply wasn’t a functioning human being capable of having fun without Yin. As if something inside him was just blocked—his feelings overlaid and numbed by the fact that his favorite person wasn’t sharing laughter, drinks, and dances with him.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Phueng said suddenly from beside him again, and only now did War realize that he’d apparently been staring into the void for quite some time again. Before he knew what was happening, his friend had already made her way to the sound system and was chatting with the guy standing next to it, who seemed to be in charge of the party’s music.

After a few exchanged words, the music stopped abruptly, quickly followed by complaints and irritated remarks, which became quieter the moment Phueng cupped her hands around her mouth and announced, “We’re playing a game! Anyone who wants to join, follow me—we’re going to get a little touchy-feely!”

She grinned at the group as some party guests cheered or whistled. Then the music started up again, and Phueng quickly made her way back to War and Mark.

Before War could make his escape to the balcony, his friend already grabbed his hand. “Oh, no, no, no, you’re coming with me!” she said immediately, nodding to Mark. “And you too. If no one else is playing, at least it’ll be a nice threesome.”

Mark almost choked on his laughter, but War groaned, his face twisting in silent agony. “I’m not in the mood to play, Phueng.”

She studied him for a few moments, then clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “This is a party. You should finally start having fun! And I’m sure this game will help with that.”

War had his doubts, considering his mind was constantly circling around Yin, no matter what he did, but he decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with her. So he let her pull him into an adjoining room, hoping he wouldn’t regret it in the end.

Unlike the living room, this one wasn’t decorated. It was a tidy bedroom with a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a bookshelf. A guitar leaned against the wall, and on the desk stood a small lamp that Phueng switched on as soon as she entered the room. It provided just enough light for them to see each other, but not so much that it robbed the atmosphere of the strange intimacy created by the subdued music and the sudden decrease in the number of people.

A few others had joined them—some people War knew from university, and a couple of unfamiliar faces—who were now scattered across the room: on the desk chair, the bed, the carpeted floor. War leaned against the wall next to the door, which Mark quietly closed when it seemed no one else was joining them anymore.

“So,” Phueng clapped her hands. “I thought we could play some touching game. We blindfold someone, and they have to guess, just by touch, which of the people in the room is standing in front of them.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, while War was already questioning all his life choices.

“Oh, that sounds fun,” a brunette said, who War didn’t know. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against a bedpost. “That way we get to know each other better very quickly.” She giggled.

Phueng grinned at her, a sparkle in her eyes that told War she was up to no good. “Exactly. Do you want to start, Dao?”

The girl shrugged, then stood up with a slight swing in her movements. Her gaze wandered over each person in the room, seemingly memorizing all the faces and shapes of them before Phueng blindfolded her and spun her around to disorient her. Dao giggled softly again as she swayed a little bit, and Phueng had to support her.

Without saying a word, the others in the room quickly agreed on who should step forward and be identified by touch—the choice fell on Mark, who gave War a brief, pained glance before surrendering to his fate.

War crossed his arms as he watched Dao reach out and place her hands on Mark’s shoulders. Contrary to his expectations, her hands were neither gentle nor shy, but bold and confident. The way they wandered rather roughly over Mark’s face, causing him to squint his eyes, made War think he was glad he hadn’t been chosen. 

Yin would probably have hated this game even more than he did. He’d always had a slight aversion to being touched by others, especially by strangers. The idea of ​​someone patting his face and pinching his cheeks as if they were kneading dough surely would have been a nightmare for him.

The thought made War smile quietly to himself.

“Okay, are you... War?” Dao asked after a while, and War raised his eyebrows in surprise, taken aback by the fact that she even knew his name. Perhaps they had taken some class together after all, and he actually should have known her name?

Mark snorted softly, half-indignantly, half-amused, while the others hummed a “no”.

“Oops,” she chuckled, then ran her hand over Mark’s face one last time. “Then you’re Mark.”

“Not bad!” Phueng praised, who immediately removed the blindfold from Dao. The brunette sank back to the floor, grinning contentedly, while Phueng’s gaze swept around the group again, selecting her next victim.

War had a bad feeling when her gaze lingered on him longer than necessary.

Why was it even her who decided who had to wear this damn blindfold?

“War,” she said, far too enthusiastically. “She guessed you wrong, so you’re next.”

“You’ll take any excuse to make me embarrass myself, won’t you?” War grumbled, but in response to his friend’s shrug and her secretive smile, he merely let out a loud sigh before actually moving his feet until he was standing in front of her. At least he wasn’t the one to get felt up. 

He tried to memorize the faces and shapes of the people in the room, but he already knew that the number of people he would be able to guess was limited—most likely reduced to just Mark and Phueng, maybe Dao, after observing her for a while just moments ago.

Phueng blindfolded him while the others talked quietly. War thought he heard someone leave the room, because the door opened and closed briefly, causing the music from outside to get louder, before it was shut out again. He, too, had to spin around several times until he no longer knew which way he was facing.

The experience was strange—standing amidst familiar and unfamiliar faces, their attention fixed on him while he couldn’t see a thing. It made him feel strangely exposed and vulnerable as he clenched his fists and pressed them against his thighs, trying to block out the fact that he was probably being watched far too closely.

But at the same time, he couldn’t deny that there was something... thrilling about it, too. He kind of understood the appeal of the game a little better; the mixed emotions inside him making the back of his neck prickle with silent anticipation.

Even without Phueng’s “You can start,” War registered immediately that someone stepped in front of him. He felt the person’s body heat, sensed their gaze on him, and War couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something felt odd.

When he raised his hands slightly, to about hip height, an indefinable weight pressed down on his chest, and he felt strangely short of breath as his fingers brushed the sleeves of the person he had to identify by touch. The fabric felt rough under his fingertips.

Unlike Dao, he was less bold.

He started with the person’s wrists, feeling them blindly and carefully wrapping his fingers around the rough fabric of the sweater that covered them, as if asking for permission to continue his exploration. When there was no further response—of course not—his hands moved higher, over the forearms to the elbows, then over the muscular biceps, which instantly ruled out any woman in the room. His hands trembled slightly, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, as his palms traced over the stranger’s hard shoulders and then down to the person’s collarbones.

He was far too aware of his own body and the inexplicably loud heartbeat in his ears. With the blindfold, everything felt strangely intense—the warmth beneath his fingers and the one radiating from the other’s body, the quiet, barely perceptible sounds around him like the rustle of clothing as someone shifted their weight, the way the shoulders slowly rose and fell under his hands as the stranger in front of him breathed almost silently. He noticed his own body tensing involuntarily, his fingertips tingling, his breathing becoming slightly shallow.

And then, when his fingers suddenly brushed against warm skin, he almost flinched—the touch feeling like an electric shock; surprising and burning, yet anticipated—unlike his heartbeat, which suddenly pounded wildly in his chest as the stranger’s breath stuttered in their throat, as if they had been startled by the touch as well.

Heat flushed War’s face and he froze.

Yet, his fingers kept moving up the neck, guided by the shivers from the one opposite him, despite the man’s tangible gulp threatening to leave War’s mouth dry. The jawline was soft, familiarly soft, and the cheeks even softer, fitting perfectly under his palm, making memories of drunken college parties, ones where he used the guise of alcohol to hold Yin, gently knock at the back of his mind. 

He then lowered his head, hoping to leave behind his yearning and focus on the eyelids under his skin. The muscle over the eyes did not twitch, did not flutter, as if the man was savouring the touch, savouring War’s touch, savouring War.

Unwilling to let his pride in the theory manifest on his body in front of everyone, he quickly moved to the nose, a well-defined nose, and stopped at the cupid’s bow.

He wondered if crossing the line would mean an invitation for Cupid to strike his heart, accepting whatever was presented in front of him. Or, maybe it meant that he would be challenging the angel.

Because he was sure that all the spiritual entities knew that his heart belonged to one. And that he would spend a lifetime under Yin’s shadow, surrounded by Yin’s warmth, staying in Yin’s presence if that’s all he was allowed. 

So, with palms cupping the man’s face, he placed a single thumb over his lips.

It was…sharp yet pillowy. It was evident that it puckered on contact, the shape maintaining even as he gently pressed on it. He couldn’t seem to move his hands anymore, and it wasn’t because of the gloss on the lips or his repulsion to sticky fluids on him.

Maybe Cupid struck an arrow to his nail; there was no other reasonable explanation for the magnetic tension that intensified by the second around them.

Suddenly, he heard Phueng speak. “Hurry up, War, we don’t have all day, and there are others who need to play!”

War yanked his forearms back, excruciatingly aware of the eyes on him, immediately feeling emotionally naked and vulnerable. In an attempt to remove himself from the situation as soon as possible, with arms lowered and the palm with the gloss positioned awkwardly, he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I actually have no idea who this is. I’m sorry, Phueng.” Then, he reached out to the man in front of him, stopping short of holding him. “Sorry, dude,” he tried to be nonchalant, “I’m guessing we’ve never met before.”

He almost didn’t want to know who it was anymore. He didn’t want to know who made his heart pound, who melted under his touch, who stupid Cupid tried to offer.

Yin was all he wanted, all he ever wanted. No one else.

There was a silence that filled the room and made War hyper-aware of his own heartbeat, making him place the non-sticky hand over his blindfold to remove it when Phueng’s playful teasing tone tore through the quiet. “Okay, how about we let the dude say a few words and maybe help you out?”

War furrowed his brows, trying to understand why she was being adamant, but in vain. He realised she probably had good reason, and so, trusting her, he obliged.

He took a deep breath, unwillingly readying himself to hear the voice of the man the angels challenged his spirit with. 

“I think,” he heard the man say, with a sound so melodious that the pitch of it revived his tired soul, while his awkward palm was being lifted, “we know each other too well.” He felt a cloth running lightly over his gloss-stricken thumb. “A bit too well, I’d say.”

And that’s when it hit him.

The familiar cheeks, the unfamiliar lips, the tension between them, the subtle shudders, the gentle cleansing, all of it were from the one his soul recognised before his body could.

Without any time to think, he removed the cover over his eyes, but not before breathily saying, “Yin.”

The vision of the man he adored, even though always calling him ‘just a friend’, stunned him. Yin was standing right in front of him, with a smile so mischievous that War couldn’t fight the blush formed due to it.

He wanted to hug Yin, wanted to sniff the corner of Yin’s neck, wanted to then hold Yin’s arm and drag him out for drinks and dance, but that damned smile and that beautiful face and that inexplicable warmth radiating from him did not allow any part of War to make a move.

He could see from his periphery the tight top revealing Yin’s toned body, which almost instilled an urge to gouge the orbits of every person in the room. And outside the room. And on the streets nearby.

But, he wouldn’t.

Not because it was wrong, but because it would bring to light the emotions for Yin he’s always tried to hide and bury within the depths of his heart, emotions that were a step beyond sacrificial love that dared to surface only during intoxicated stupor and accidental touches.

And he couldn’t risk a revelation at all.

Not when exposed love would end the years of friendship. Not when it threatened to create cracks in the foundation of mutual trust. Not when a connection that felt like home was on the line.

So he stood still, focusing on the calmness that Yin brought, surrendering to the way he was being held by Yin. He would have stayed that way if it weren’t for his favourite voice stating, “See, I told you we knew each other too well!”

War chuckled. “Apparently not well enough for me to know that you’d be here.”

Yin pouted ever-so-cutely and opened his mouth to respond when Mark interjected. “Guys, why don’t you both sit down so we can continue the game?”

War turned to him and gave a look of gratitude. As the two of them walked away from everyone’s line of sight, Phueng called out, “Hey, Yin, you’re supposed to be the one to be blindfolded next.”

“Ah, I’m a bit tired from rushing to be here,” Yin replied. “I’m up for the next game, okay?”

War thanked the heavens for Yin’s denial–he wouldn’t be able to sit still watching Yin brush his fingers over someone else’s arms and neck and face and lips, the way he did. He wanted the dawning satisfaction of being permitted to touch Yin—a privilege despite his dislike of intimate contact—to last and remain undisturbed.

As they settled into a corner, Phueng started to call others onto the floor. War stared intently at the person being blindfolded, trying not to be aware of the way their knees and shoulders had no space left between them.

And then, War felt a warm breath on his neck. “Sorry for not texting you earlier, War.” Yin’s words made War turn slightly, because any more of an angle would make his tipsy mind coax his body to forget all the made-up rules that protected their friendship. “I was just in a hurry to get here and didn’t find the time to let you know.”

War pursed his lips. “It’s okay, Yin. I’m just glad you’re here.” He dared and placed a palm on Yin’s knee. The electricity that subsequently coursed through War surprised him; it was supposed to be the least charged touch between them. “Why did you rush here, though? Did you not enjoy time with your family?”

“I did.” War felt a shrug against him before Yin said, “I just missed you.”

War will never admit it to Phueng, but the party did become more fun after that. 

It should have been embarrassing, how much the Valentine colors became so much brighter, the music less overwhelming, the laughter warranted. All because of the presence of someone sitting close next to him, laughing, throwing his head back, and pointing fingers when someone cheated. 

It should have embarrassed him, and maybe made him feel a bit helpless or pathetic, but War constantly reached into his chest each time Yin was around, and he could never find a single one of those emotions around his heart. 

War smiled to himself at the thought; he rested his arms on his knees, letting himself be engulfed by the joyful sounds around, head tilted towards Yin. His eyes were always turned to him. Even when he wasn’t looking at him, War always knew where he was in the room. He simply orbited around him. 

Like the goddamn sun. 

The game continued, but luckily, no one called either of them until they eventually moved on to another, in which they did get themselves dragged into, but it was mostly harmless and fun. War found himself next to Yin, laughing at his attempts to nail all of them and failing spectacularly. 

War had fun in a way he hadn’t thought possible half an hour ago.

That is, until Phueng entered the room; War hadn’t even noticed she’d stepped out in the first place. She grinned mischievously, dragging a string of tiny heart-shaped balloons as she closed the door once more. 

War didn’t have time to process before she called for everyone’s attention, standing in the middle. 

“Alright! We’re gonna make this interesting!” she said, starting to untie the balloons, one by one. She glanced around the room, winking when her eyes landed on War. He squinted at her. “Everyone, grab a partner. This next game is called Heart to Mouth.” 

Yin crossed his arms, tilting his head curiously. War glanced between them back and forth, and witnessed a short, silent conversation he had no clue what to make of, before Phueng was showing one of the little balloons in her hand.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she said, and grabbed the closest victim to her, her words straining as Mark resisted, until he finally stood right in front of her with a scowl on his face. 

Phueng grinned and placed the balloon between their chests, keeping Mark close so it wouldn’t fall. 

“You have to slide the balloon from your chest and up until you’re both holding it with your mouths,” she explained, mimicking the movement with her hand when Mark blushed a hundred shades of red at the implications. She rolled her eyes at her friend. “Obviously, with no hands!” 

There were low mumbles of understanding, and War felt Yin’s presence next to him thicken, somehow. There were tingles on his skin and a single drop of cold sweat running down his neck, when Yin reached down to grab one of the balloons between his fingers. 

He watched as Yin stared at it, but didn’t make a move to look around the room for someone, just like everyone was doing. He stared forward, and War could only look at him, the question at the tip of his tongue. 

Then, to his horror, Dao made eye contact with him, making a beeline toward him. 

Oh, hell no. 

War was already beginning to panic, thinking of how he’d get out of this, but the second Dao reached them, Yin’s hand moved, and the balloon in her hands popped, making her flinch. Yin pulled his hand back, and War noticed a toothpick between his fingers before he hid it in his pocket. 

“Oops,” he deadpanned, blinking innocently at her. “My bad,” he added, holding his heart balloon in one hand, and wrapping his other arm around War, silently shooing her away. 

War’s heart raced at the obvious display of…

Of what, exactly? War didn’t dare to even name it. Because there was no way Yin was jealous, right? No, he obviously knew how much War hated others touching him. He was protecting him, like he always does. 

Yes, that's it. 

Luckily, Dao simply burst into giggles, shaking her head and finding another victim, leaving them alone once more. 

“Come on! The last couple has to take shots!” Phueng’s voice cut through the air once more, and War had little to no time to react before Yin was pulling him close, chest to chest, and placing the little heart in the middle. 

He smiled, and War didn’t know how to meet his eye for longer than that, for some reason, staring down at the red balloon squished between them. He blinked, wondering if the beating of his heart could travel through and reach Yin. He wondered if his face was as red as the fake heart, if Yin could even tell with the dim lights and shades of pink cast all over the room. 

He gulped. 

Could he be more obvious? 

“Hey…”

War snapped his eyes up toward him. His dark eyes were shadowed with concern, and he pressed closer, squishing the little heart further. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he muttered, briefly looking at the others as they readied for the game. “I know you’re not comfortable with––”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he reassured, managing a smile, even. Yin never made him uncomfortable. He never wanted to let Yin believe such a thing, even at the expense of his own sanity. “With you, it’s fine,” he clarified, sending him a little smirk. “Let’s kick their asses.” 

Yin grinned, nodding his head. 

Surprisingly, the game didn’t last long. The second Phueng yelled ‘go’, it was pure chaos. Couples around shouted at each other, instructions flying through the air as War laughed, shimming the balloon between them as Yin did the same. They must have looked ridiculous, he knew. 

He also knew how hot his face grew the moment their balloon reached their necks, and War had his nose practically buried in Yin’s jaw, trying to grab the heart with his chin and pushing it towards Yin’s cheek. 

War would have no way of explaining how he managed it, but soon the heart was finally resting between their lips, and both of them raised their hands in victory. 

War heaved, and Yin’s eyes were bright and his cheeks colored pink, keeping still until they were deemed the winners. Only then, War stepped back, only enough to let the balloon fall. Yin caught it with his hand and kept it between them, but his gaze was still on War. 

His own cheeks hurt with how much he’d smiled through the whole thing; Yin was catching his breath, and didn’t step away. Why wasn’t he stepping away? He lingered, eyes raking all over War’s face, the red heart still in his hand. Yin looked at it, and then back at War, as if considering for a moment before he extended the red balloon towards him.

The gesture was nothing, really, but War’s heart skipped a beat, his own hand reaching for it belatedly to accept it. 

A loud cheer made them flinch, and the balloon fell as they looked towards the commotion. The group gathered the losers, and Phueng lined up the shots for them to take. Yin chuckled, finally stepping back, tilting his head towards the group. A silent invitation. War nodded, and Yin smiled again, before a hand on his shoulder distracted him.

The air around War became cold, all of a sudden. He glanced at the red heart, now forgotten by his feet. It looked lonely and obscured. 

He sighed and pocketed his hands. When he reached the long table by the wall, a new game had been decided. 

“Seven minutes in heaven!” Dao exclaimed, excitedly clapping her hands.

War’s chest did a somersault. He found Phueng’s eyes and instantly shook his head, sending daggers at his friend. Phueng simply giggled and dragged a groaning Mark as they all formed a circle once more. The atmosphere was light and airy, and the music faint, almost. 

It did nothing to ease the dread pooling at his gut. 

“Come on, whoever spins will spend seven minutes in the closet with the person it lands on. All clear!” His friend was well-spoken and eloquent, given the state of her tipsiness. She even winked in his direction. War wanted to strangle her.

Phueng didn’t seem phased by his murderous look, grinning cheekily as she pushed the bottle into Yin’s hands. 

“Yin, you were the last to join us, so you’ll do the honors and start!” 

War’s throat tightened, his friend sighed, nervously adjusting his posture right across from him. 

“That’s not fair,” he complained, and War could swear he chanced a look at him, before he set nervous eyes back on Phueng. Nonetheless, she insisted, getting encouraging words from the rest of them who were apparently very eager to start. 

So Yin let out a defeated breath, biting down his bottom lip the way he always did when he was anxious or stressed. War both loved and hated to know this about him, because he wanted to reach out and take the bottle from his hands the moment he placed it on the ground, and spun it. 

The glass made a gentle sound against the marble floors, and it looked as though it was never going to stop, increasing the rapid beat of his heart the longer it took for it to stop. 

Because what was War going to do if it landed on him? 

What was War going to do if it landed on someone else? 

He didn’t know which one was worse. 

The bottle was still spinning. War told himself to watch it. He really did. But he felt it before he saw it — that shift in the air, that strange tightening in his chest — and when he looked up, Yin was already looking at him.

Not at the bottle.
At him.

War's pulse stumbled.
Why? The spin hadn't slowed yet. It was still too early to tell where it would land. There was no reason to look up. No reason to—
Unless…

War's thoughts tripped over themselves.
Was Yin checking his reaction?
Was he nervous?
Was he hoping it wouldn't land on him?
Or worse—Was he hoping it would?
War forced himself to look back at the bottle.
It scraped softly against the marble. Round and round. Slowing. His throat felt dry.

Maybe Yin wasn't looking at him at all. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe War had imagined the intensity in it — the steadiness. Maybe Yin was just distracted.

But no. He could still feel it. That gaze. Like it hadn't moved.
Someone said something, maybe Dao — War didn't catch what. A light laugh. The faint rustle of someone shifting position.

"Yin… who are you hoping for?" That was Mark's voice.
The question floated casually into the circle.
War's stomach tightened. He shouldn't look. He knew he shouldn't. But he did.

Yin still hadn't looked away. Not even at the sound of his own name. His expression wasn't playful or embarrassed. It was unreadable in that way that always made War feel slightly off-balance — calm on the surface, something else underneath.

Why are you looking at me?
The bottle began to slow.
War's heartbeat grew louder with every rotation.
Was Yin looking at him because he didn't want it to land on him?
Was he silently apologizing in advance?
Or was he waiting? Waiting to see if War would flinch. If he would tense. If he would look hopeful.

War didn't know which possibility scared him more.

The bottle tipped past him. War exhaled — too quickly. Then it wobbled. Tilted back.
Slower.
Slower.
And stopped.
Pointing at him.

Then a few low "ohhh" sounds rose from around the circle.
War didn't react immediately. He couldn't. Because Yin was still looking at him.
And now there was something different in his eyes — something softer. Almost like relief.
That's when it hit him. Yin hadn't been watching the bottle. He'd been watching War. Watching him the whole time. As if the outcome mattered less than how War would feel about it.

War's chest tightened painfully.
Why?
Why would it matter that much?
Unless—
Unless Yin had been hoping for the same thing he had.
The realization made War's fingers curl slightly against his knee. He didn't know whether to feel exposed or chosen.

Across from him, Yin finally glanced down at the bottle. Then back up.
And this time, he gave the smallest nod.
Not triumphant. Not teasing. Just… certain.
War's breath caught. And suddenly, the idea of seven minutes felt like far more than a game.

Phueng cleared her throat gently. "Well," she said, almost too casually, "rules are rules."
Mark checked his phone without looking up. "Seven minutes."

War felt every pair of eyes shift towards them.
He pushed himself to his feet carefully.
Yin stood a second later.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Mark glanced up then, expression unreadable. "You know," he said, "it's just a closet. Not a life decision."
War shot him a look.
"Right," Mark added. "Unless it is."
Phueng nudged him with her elbow without looking away from War. "Ignore him."
"I'm being supportive," Mark replied. "Emotionally."

War's ears were burning.
Yin cleared his throat softly. "We'll be back."
"That's usually how this works," Mark said.
Phueng tilted her head slightly, studying them both. "Take your time," she added, winking at War.

War glanced at Yin. He didn't look flustered. Not visibly. But there was that faint tension in his jaw again. That careful composure.
Mark leaned back on his hands. "Timer starts when the door closes," he said. "Fair system."

They walked side by side toward the hallway closet. The music from the living room felt distant now. Muffled.

Yin reached for the doorknob first. Paused and glanced at War.
"Still want to?" he asked quietly.
War's heart stumbled at the question.
Did he?

War hadn't expected the choice. Up until now, everything had felt like momentum — the spin, the silence, the way Yin had looked at him instead of the bottle. Like he'd been carried here by something outside of himself.
But this— This was deliberate. 

Yin's hand was still resting on the doorknob. Not turning it. Not pushing. Just Waiting. Waiting for him.
War searched his face for teasing, for even a hint that this was just politeness.
There wasn't any.

"If you don't want to," Yin added, softer, "we don't have to."
The song changed in the other room, the volume dipping as someone argued playfully over the playlist. A door creaked. Laughter spilled out, then receded. Life continuing.

War became suddenly aware of how easy it would be to shake his head. To say it was fine. To suggest they swap with someone else. To protect whatever fragile thing existed between them by not testing it.
Because if they walked into that closet, it would mean something.
And if it meant something, it could break.

War exhaled slowly.
"I don't think I would've liked it," he admitted.
Yin's fingers tightened slightly on the knob. "Liked what?"
"If it landed on someone else."
There it was.
The truth, exposed and impossible to take back.
Yin's expression shifted. Just the faintest softening around his eyes.
War swallowed. "So yeah," he finished quietly. "I still want to."
A pause. 

Then Yin nodded once. He opened the door.
The closet light flickered on automatically — dim and warm. Stacks of folded chairs, cardboard boxes of decorations, a faint scent of dust and fabric softener.
They stepped inside. The door clicked shut. The sound felt louder than it should have.

For a moment, neither of them moved.
War hadn't considered how small the space would be. He became acutely aware of his own breathing.
Yin leaned back lightly against the shelf behind him, giving War space instead of closing it.
"So," he said, attempting casual, "what do we do now?"
War blinked at him. 

The question wasn't teasing exactly — but it carried that familiar edge of humor Yin used whenever things felt too heavy.

"What do you mean?" War asked.
Yin gave a small shrug. "I've never actually planned this part."

Despite himself, War let out a soft breath that almost passed for a laugh.
"You didn't spin with a strategy in mind?"

"I was under a lot of pressure," Yin replied softly. "Very hostile environment out there."

 War shook his head, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
"So this is you improvising?"

"Obviously."
A pause.
Yin's gaze drifted to War's face again — quick, then away, then back.
"I guess," Yin continued, softer now, "we could talk."

War raised an eyebrow. "In a closet."

"Private venue," Yin corrected. "Cozy accommodations."

That earned a real smile from War.
The humor thinned the air just enough to breathe — but not enough to erase the awareness between them. Because even as Yin tried to keep it light, his voice had lost some of its teasing edge.

And War could still feel the question underneath the question.
What do we do now?

"Why were you looking at me?" War asked before he could overthink it.
Yin stilled.
"When?"
"While it was spinning."
The question hung between them.

Yin didn't dodge it. "I wasn't sure what you'd want," he said finally.

War frowned slightly. "Why would that matter?"

Yin's jaw shifted, like he was choosing his words carefully. "Because if you looked uncomfortable," he said, "I was going to knock it over."

War blinked. "You were going to what?"

Yin's mouth curved faintly. Not amused. Just honest. "It wouldn't have been that hard."
War stared at him. "You'd have ruined the game."

"I don't care about the game."
The air felt thinner suddenly.
War's heart was doing something dangerous in his chest.
"Why?" he asked, even though he already suspected the answer.

Yin looked at him steadily. "Because I care about you not feeling cornered."
The words rested between them. War's throat tightened. All this time, he'd been worrying about what it would mean if the bottle landed on him. He hadn't considered that Yin's fear might've been hurting him.
"You thought I wouldn't want this?" War asked quietly.

Yin hesitated. "I didn't know," he admitted. That honesty hurt more than anything else.
War closed the small distance between them before he could second-guess himself.
Not touching yet.
Just close enough that the space didn't feel defensive anymore. Close enough, he could smell Yin’s cologne.

"I wanted it," War said.
Yin's breath caught.
"Even before it stopped," War added.

Silence lingered.
Yin's hand lifted slightly — slowly enough that War could move away.
He didn't. Fingers brushed against War's wrist.

"Good," Yin murmured.
And the word carried relief in it.

Outside, there was a faint knock against the door. Not impatient. Just checking.
Neither of them answered. For once, War didn't feel like running from the moment.
He felt like stepping into it.

War was certain that in this closet, with the few given minutes, he would finally admit everything to himself and to Yin. There was definitely no escaping that moment.

The space didn't offer that, anyway.

War’s mind was haywire ㅡ to say the least. He didn’t know what to make of the exchange that he had with Yin just now. 

His mind had not processed everything yet, and he was trying his best to interpret it as rationally as he could. But then, more soft knocks jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Just a little time check ㅡ you guys have four more minutes.” It was Mark’s muffled voice that they heard through the door.

What? Had it been three minutes already?

War’s gaze landed on Yin, who had been staring at him for a while now, and then on the hand on his wrist. Yin held him gentle but firm. Then, he looked up at Yin again, who now raised an eyebrow at him playfully. 

“So…” The two men said at the same time, which made them chuckle. War urged Yin to go ahead and say what he wanted to say. He felt a little bolder and held Yin by the wrist as well, and gauged his reaction.

What he was not prepared for was Yin stepping even closer to him.

He was so sure Yin could see how his face was red despite the dim lighting in the room with this proximity.

Yin then spoke, “I assume that earlier you meant that you wanted to be the one the bottle would be pointing to. How should I interpret that?”

War took a deep breath and gazed into Yin’s eyes that shone amidst the dim lights. “Well… we don’t have much time, so I won’t beat around the bush.” War paused to compose what he wanted to say. He knew that he could be dense sometimes, but all this tension ever since that blindfold and touching game was so palpable that it had to mean something.

Well, hopefully. If not, he’d have to look for a new university to transfer to in a faraway town where no one would find him and know him.

“War? Are you okay?” Yin leaned closer to check on him as he had spaced out ㅡ again ㅡ and he almost flinched.

“Ah, sorry, Yin. Yeah. I was saying… fuck, I’m so bad at thisㅡ” War stuttered, and his voice shook a little. He averted his gaze and looked down at one of his shoes that was between Yin’s. It was a turmoil inside him because… was he really about to confess to his best friend and potentially lose him?

Just before he could speak again, Yin heaved a soft sigh which made War look up at him.

War felt his ears ring with how fondly Yin smiled at him. The latter also slowly leaned closer, but still allowed some space for War to back away.

War didn’t move an inch.

“I think you and I know what’s up and I’m bad at this too. But I’m only hoping for one thing.” Yin paused, and War just stared at him with eyes hesitant and hopeful at the same time.

“I hope you like me too, and I don’t mean liking me as your best friend. We wouldn’t be best friends anyway if we didn’t like each other. But, I hope you like me too, like how I want to hold your hand, like how I want to be with you all the time… you know. Do shit that lovers do. But then, if you don’t like me to that extent, we can leave what I said in this room,” Yin continued with his voice wavering a bit as well, and his body language screamed nervousness.

Just before War could speak, there were knocks again.

“Two minutes, buddies,” Phueng said with a giggle.

Yin’s eyes were still on War, and he was the one anticipating this time as War looked back at him.

War chuckled softly, then pursed his lips. “I’ve wanted all that ‘shit’ all this time too, I was just… not sure if you felt, you know… the same. I don’t wanna fuck this friendship up, and I can’t lose you so I… God, is this even real? You’re not… pranking me, right?”

Yin snorted as he gently booped War’s nose. “We will soon have a minute left. Can I kiss you with that remaining time to show how serious I am about this?”

War grabbed Yin by the collar as gently as he could amidst the want that ignited inside him and said, “Kiss me now, then.”

Yin didn’t waste another second and claimed War’s lips. War gasped against it but immediately wrapped his arms around Yin’s neck as the latter automatically had his arms around his torso. He could feel Yin’s heart pounding against his chest and he was sure Yin could feel his, too. The kiss was slow but firm, deep and certain. It felt like it was meant to happen all this time.

It felt… so right.

It felt like Yin’s lips were made for War to kiss. And War couldn’t help but nibble on his lower lip, which made the latter lowly groan; he used that opportunity to glide his tongue on the parted lips, and Yin immediately captured the wet muscle to suck on it, making War the one groaning this time.

They suddenly felt like they weren’t close enough, even though their bodies were almost molded together with the way they were pressed against each other.

Yin then gripped the hem of War’s shirt, slightly pulling away from the kiss as if to ask permission to feel more of War, and he agreed.

Their lips were about to meet again, as Yin’s hand slowly slipped beneath the constraints of War’s shirt, when knocks on the door snapped them out of their little bubble.

Yin drew his hand back; and War wanted to chop off the hand of whoever knocked on that damn door.

Well, he wouldn’t, but you get him.

“It’s been eight minutes now, are you guys okay??” Phueng knocked harder.

“We’re more than okay. We’re coming out now,” Yin responded, and they could hear her walk away with a snicker.

Yin then turned to War, fixing his hair before he chuckled softly. “But, are you okay? And, do you believe me now?”

War nodded slowly, still a little dazed; he couldn't resist the urge to run his thumb along Yin’s lips, which were now slightly swollen. “I’m more than okay, too, and I kinda believe you. I just think I need more proof.”

Yin shook his head incredulously before smirking. “Maybe we can make arrangements for that later. But now, let’s get this party over with.”

War nodded and fixed Yin's hair a bit. “Yeah, let's go. They might be freaking out now.”

They stepped out of the door with a smile and with hands intertwined.

It took less than a second for Phueng to notice their intertwined hands.

“Ohhh, would you look at that!” she sang dramatically, pointing at the duo. “Look who decided to finally come out of the closet.”

Mark groaned. “Please, you practically forced them out.”

War rolled his eyes and tugged Yin toward the couch. “You two are insufferable.”

“Insufferably correct,” Phueng shot back, grinning. “So? Was it seven minutes of heaven or seven minutes of awkward silence?”

Yin smirked as he leaned back casually. “Depends on your definition of heaven.”

War nearly choked. “Yin!”

Mark joined in. “Oh, this is going to be fun. War’s blushing like they were just making out inside the closet.”

“Maybe they were,” Pheung retorted.

War buried his face in his hands. “Why are you both like this?”

“Because we love you,” Phueng said cheekily, “and because you’re finally giving us something to gossip about.”

Yin chuckled. He squeezed War’s hand. “Relax. They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “Of what, exactly?”

“Of my timing,” Yin replied smoothly. “I showed up late, but still managed to win the best prize.”

Phueng gasped dramatically again. “Did you just call War a prize?”

War groaned louder. “Stop talking.”

“Never,” Phueng interrupted him. “This is the highlight of my semester.”

Mark leaned forward, smirking. “So, War… when’s the wedding?”

War threw a cushion at him. “Shut up.”

The laughter that followed was loud enough to drown out the music for a moment. War found himself laughing too, despite the heat in his cheeks.

For once, the teasing didn’t sting. It felt… good. It felt like the weight that he had been carrying for so long had finally been taken away.

Yin leaned closer. His voice was low enough that only War could hear. “See? I told you we’d be fine.”

War glanced at him, lips twitching into a smile.

The party carried on, brighter and louder than before. But for War, the noise didn’t matter anymore. All he could think of was the person sitting beside him, fingers laced with his, smiling fondly at him.

Like the goddamn sun.

Eventually, War tugged lightly at Yin’s hand. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

Yin followed without a question.

The balcony was quieter, the muffled bass of the party fading into the background. Cool night air brushed against their warm faces. The wind carried the faint scent of jasmine flowers nearby. 

War leaned against the railing, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for hours. Yin stood beside him. Close enough that their shoulders brushed.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop teasing us?” War asked, half-smiling.

“Not a chance,” Yin replied easily. “Phueng’s probably already drafting an announcement for our group chat.”

War groaned. “Great…now I’ll be immortalized as ‘Closet Boy.’”

Yin chuckled. “It could have been worse. At least you weren’t paired with Dao.”

War shot him a look. “You popped her balloon on purpose, didn’t you?”

Yin tilted his head innocently to match War’s gaze. “Did I?”

“Yes,” War said pointedly, but he could feel a faint smile growing on his face. “You’re terrible.”

“Terrible,” Yin echoed, leaning closer, “but effective.”

War laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

They stood in silence for a moment, just taking in each other’s presence. The laughter from inside drifted faintly through the door. War’s gaze wandered to the sky, scattered with stars and constellations that he did not know of, and then back to Yin.

“You know,” War said quietly, “I meant it. In there.”

Yin turned to him, brows raised. “Which part?”

“All of it,” War admitted. “Wanting you. Not wanting anyone else.” He hesitated, then added, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this sure about anything else.”

Yin’s smile softened. He reached out, brushing his fingers over War’s hand on the railing until they laced together again. “Good,” he said simply. “Because I’ve been sure for a long time.”

War’s throat tightened. Though, this time he didn’t fight it. He leaned his head lightly against Yin’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

Inside, someone cheered loudly, probably over another stupid game. Phueng and Mark’s voices echoed off like they were fighting again.

War smiled faintly. “They’re going to drive us insane.”

“Probably,” Yin agreed. “But at least we’ll be insane together.”

War chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Together sounds good.”

War turned to look at Yin. He didn’t think. He didn’t overanalyze. He simply leaned in, closing the space between them.

The kiss was gentler than the one in the closet, but no less certain. Slow, warm, and steady. Yin’s hand cupped his cheek, War’s fingers curled into Yin’s shirt, and for a moment the noise of the party faded completely.

When they finally pulled back, War was smiling. Yin brushed his thumb lightly across War’s jaw. His eyes shone brightly looking at War.

“Proof enough?” Yin asked teasingly.

War chuckled as he leaned his forehead against Yin’s. “More than enough.”

War closed his eyes again as Yin pulled him into another kiss, under the Valentine’s lights.