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The shared room Soul and Jongseob had claimed since their trainee days felt smaller than usual tonight. Clothes draped over chairs, a half finished Lego set on the desk from Soul’s latest hyper focus. The air smelled faintly of the citrus body wash they both used and the lingering takeout ramen from dinner.
They were lying on their backs on Jongseob’s bed, side by side, shoulders almost touching but not quite. The comforter was rumpled underneath them, still warm from when they’d flopped down after showering. Jongseob had one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the faint glow in the dark stars Soul had stuck on the ceiling years ago. Some peeling at the edges now, but neither of them had the heart to take them down.
Soul’s legs were stretched out straight, socked feet dangling off the edge a little because he was just tall enough that the standard dorm bed never quite fit him perfectly. His hands rested on his stomach, fingers twitching occasionally like he was playing an invisible beat.
They’d been scrolling on their phones earlier, sending each other dumb TikToks across the tiny gap between them, laughing quietly at the same videos. Now the phones were face down on the nightstand. The room was dim, only the warm desk lamp on, casting soft shadows across the walls.
Soul broke the comfortable silence first, his voice low and a little raspy from not talking much all evening. He was always like that. Quiet unless something really caught him.
“You know,” he said, eyes fixed on one particular star that looked like it might fall soon, “I’ve never kissed somebody before.”
Jongseob blinked. His head turned slightly on the pillow, just enough to glance at Soul’s profile. Soul’s face was calm, almost blank, the way it got when he was stating a random fact about himself. Like the time he’d casually mentioned he could mimic anime voices perfectly but hated public speaking. No big deal. Just truth.
Jongseob felt his stomach do a weird little flip. He wasn’t expecting that. At twenty, they were both still figuring out a lot of stuff, but the confession landed heavier than he thought it would. He cleared his throat softly.
“Oh. Me too,” he replied after a beat, trying to match the casual tone. His voice came out a little higher than usual. He stared back up at the ceiling, suddenly hyper aware of how close their arms were.
The room felt warmer.
A few seconds of awkward silence stretched between them. The kind where you could hear the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant muffled laugh track from whatever Jiung was watching in the living room. Jongseob’s brain raced.
He wasn’t sure why the words came out next, but they did, tumbling before he could overthink them.
“Wanna… practice with me?”
Soul’s eyes widened instantly. He didn’t move his head at first. Just his gaze shifted sideways to meet Jongseob’s. Those big, dark eyes that always looked a little otherworldly, especially in low light, were open wide now, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. His mouth parted slightly, like he was processing the sentence in slow motion.
“Practice what?” Soul asked, genuine confusion threading through his quiet voice. He sounded exactly like himself. Curious, a little detached, the way he got when someone suggested something outside his usual routine of dancing, drawing, or zoning out to music.
Jongseob’s face heated up. He could feel the flush creeping up his neck. He swallowed, suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat.
“Kissing,” he said simply. No fancy explanation. Just the word hanging there between them.
Soul didn’t answer right away. He lay there for a long moment, thinking it over in that intense, inward way he had. His fingers stopped twitching on his stomach. Jongseob could almost see the gears turning behind those wide eyes. Soul processing the idea like it was a new choreography step or a weird lyric that didn’t quite fit yet. No panic, no immediate rejection. Just quiet consideration.
Finally, Soul nodded once, slow and deliberate. “Yeah.” he said softly. It wasn’t enthusiastic, but it wasn’t hesitant either. Just honest. “Okay.”
They both sat up at the same time, the mattress dipping under their weight. The movement felt synchronized without meaning to be. They turned to face each other, legs crossed loosely now, knees almost brushing in the middle of the bed.
Jongseob’s heart was pounding harder than it did during most dance practices. Soul’s cheeks had a faint pink tint starting to show under his pale skin. Subtle, but there. His newly dyed black hair fell messily over his forehead, still slightly damp from the shower.
Jongseob rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure again. “So.. how do we start?”
Soul went quiet. He shrugged, a small lift of one shoulder, and turned even redder. The color spread across his cheekbones and down to his ears. He looked down at his hands in his lap, fingers twisting together. No words. Just that shy, alien like stillness he got when he felt exposed.
Jongseob waited a couple of seconds. When nothing came, he decided not to push with more talking. Talking had never been the easiest bridge between them anyway. They communicated better through shared silences, late night dance sessions, or dumb inside jokes.
Instead, he leaned in slowly. One hand came up, fingers sliding gently to the nape of Soul’s neck. Warm skin, soft hair at the hairline. He felt Soul tense just a little, but not pull away.
Jongseob closed the distance and pressed their lips together in the barest kiss. Barely there. Just a soft brush, closed mouths, lingering for maybe two seconds. It was awkward and careful, the kind of first contact that felt more like testing temperature than anything romantic.
He pulled back just enough to see Soul’s face. Soul’s eyes were still wide open, but his lips were slightly parted now.
“Is that good?” Jongseob asked, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed once against the side of Soul’s neck, almost unconsciously.
Soul nodded. Small, quick. His breathing had picked up a tiny bit. Jongseob went back in. This time he tilted his head a little, opening his mouth just a fraction. The kiss deepened naturally. Lips pressing more firmly, the soft wet sound of them moving together filling the quiet room.
Soul made a tiny surprised noise in the back of his throat but didn’t stop him. Instead, his hand came up hesitantly and rested on Jongseob’s knee, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatpants.
Things escalated faster than either of them probably meant for them to. Jongseob shifted closer, one hand still at Soul’s neck, the other bracing on the bed. Soul leaned into it, responding in that quiet, intense way of his. Copying the movement, parting his lips more when Jongseob did.
Their tongues brushed experimentally, tentative at first, then surer. The kiss turned messier, warmer. Jongseob could taste the faint banana taste from Soul’s late breakfast bowl, could feel the quick hitch in Soul’s breath.
Without really thinking, Jongseob moved forward, gently pushing Soul back until he was lying down again. Jongseob followed, ending up half on top of him. Chest to chest, one knee slotted between Soul’s legs for balance.
Soul’s hands came up to grip Jongseob’s shoulders, not pushing away but holding on. Their mouths stayed connected, breaths mingling hot and uneven. Jongseob’s free hand slid under the hem of Soul’s oversized t-shirt, palm flat against the warm skin of his waist. Soul shivered under the touch, a small sound escaping into the kiss.
It felt good. Too good. Natural in a way that made Jongseob’s head spin. The way Soul’s body moved under his, the soft noises he made, the way his fingers tightened on Jongseob’s shirt.
Then reality slammed into Jongseob like a cold bucket of water. This was Soul. His roommate. His best friend since trainee days.
The quiet Japanese kid who imitated anime characters to make him laugh, who stayed up with him playing games until 4am, who danced like he was from another planet but always had Jongseob’s back. Not some random person to practice on, his best friend.
Jongseob pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss with a wet sound. He was breathing hard, lips tingling, face flushed dark. He scrambled back a little, sitting up on his knees, putting space between them.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Soul,” he said quickly, voice rough and apologetic. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I got lost in it. We can forget it. Pretend it didn’t happen.”
Soul didn’t move right away. He stayed lying there for a second, then pushed himself up onto the palms of his hands.
His chest rose and fell fast, out of breath, his lips were noticeably bruised. Swollen and a deeper pink from the kissing, slightly shiny. His hair was even messier now, falling into his eyes. He looked dazed, cheeks burning red, eyes still wide but softer around the edges.
He was quiet for a long moment, just breathing, processing. Then, in that soft, slightly raspy voice,
“No. It’s okay, Jongseob-ah.”