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Jungwon barely has time to shut the door before Jay is kissing him.
It's not rushed—not sloppy either—but there's something immediate about it, like Jay had already decided how this would go long before he got here. His hand comes up to Jungwon's jaw, thumb pressing just beneath his ear, tilting him in place with quiet certainty. Jungwon exhales into it, surprised for half a second, and then not at all.
The kiss is measured and deliberate. Jay always kisses like this when he's sure, like he's setting a pace only he can hear.
Jungwon only lets himself follow.
His back bumps lightly against the door, then the wall, then Jay's pushing him the rest of the way towards the bed without ever breaking the rhythm. It's seamless and almost practiced. Jungwon's fingers curl into the front of Jay's shirt, not pulling at it, just holding on, grounding himself in the steady heat of him.
For a moment, it's easy to forget everything else—the room, the quiet hum of the air conditioner, the faint street noise slipping through the window. There's only the press of Jay's mouth, the slow shift of his hand from Jungwon's jaw to the back of his neck, firm enough to guide, yet gentle enough to feel intentional.
Jungwon tilts his head, gives a little more, and Jay takes it like he expected to.
By the time the back of Jungwon's knees hit the edge of the bed, the movement finally breaks.
He sits without thinking, breath catching just slightly as Jay follows, crowding in close. One of Jay's knees presses into the mattress beside him, the other foot still planted on the floor. His hands brace on either side of Jungwon, sinking into the sheets, caging him in without quite touching.
The angle changes everything.
Jungwon leans back on his palms for balance, chin tipped up automatically as Jay kisses him again, slower this time, like he's adjusting rather than stopping. There's a faint hitch in it—barely noticeable, but there.
Jay exhales something against his mouth, low and quiet, the words half-caught between them.
"Stay like this."
It brushes over Jungwon's lips more than it lands, but it's enough.
Something in Jungwon's chest tightens. Something sharper, more aware. He does stay, shoulders easing back a fraction more, letting Jay keep that angle, that control. His fingers curl into the sheets this time instead of Jay's shirt, like he needs something steady that isn't him.
Jay's hand finally leaves the mattress without breaking the kiss, sliding from beside Jungwon's hip to his knee, then lower, slow enough to feel deliberate again. He pauses there, and it's not quite tentative, but more like thinking.
And then his fingers hook lightly at the top of Jungwon's shoe.
He doesn't look.
But he feels what seems to be high-tops.
Jay just does it—like everything else so far—certain and practiced. His grip shifts, heel of his palm bracing against Jungwon's ankle as he tries to ease the shoe off in one smooth motion, the way anyone would, the way it's supposed to go.
Like it'll follow the same rhythm.
It doesn't.
The shoe barely moves.
Jay adjusts without pulling away, kiss pressing a little deeper instead, like he can compensate for it, like the rest of him can stay in control even if this part resists. His fingers tighten, tugging again, a little more insistently this time—
Still nothing.
The laces hold, the structure of the shoe unmoving, stubborn in a way that doesn't match the flow he's been setting. And for a second, he tries to ignore it, tries to keep kissing Jungwon like it isn't happening, like the slight resistance under his hand isn't throwing anything off.
But it's there.
Persistent.
Uncooperative.
And that's where the rhythm falters.
A little.
Jay pulls back a fraction, enough to look, enough to actually see what he's dealing with.
Converse.
The laces are tight, looped neatly, tucked in like Jungwon had no intention of taking them off anytime soon.
There's the smallest pause.
Jungwon watches it happen—the shift, the change. And something almost like a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he can stop it.
"Problem?" he murmurs, voice quieter now, a little breathless but steadier than before.
Jay glances up at him, expression caught somewhere between focus and annoyance, like he refuses to admit either fully.
"Hold on."
It's muttered more to himself than to Jungwon.
Jay shifts first—breaking the closeness—not kissing Jungwon anymore, not guiding him, not setting that pace.
He draws back slightly from the bed, one hand sliding away from Jungwon's ankle as he lowers himself down to the floor in a smooth, wordless motion. The mattress dips back into place, and suddenly the angle is different. It's less caged in, more deliberate now, like he's decided this needs a better approach rather than brute force.
Jungwon watches him move, the faint smile on his lips not quite fading as he shifts his weight back on his hands.
Only then does Jay reach for the knot again.
His fingers tug at it.
It doesn't give.
Jay exhales through his nose, barely audible, like he's recalibrating something internal he hadn't planned on adjusting. His thumb presses harder into the knot, trying to force it loose.
It still doesn't give.
Jungwon's smile lingers now, not quite full but unmistakable. He's still leaning back on his palms, still watching Jay with a kind of quiet curiosity, like this is suddenly more interesting than anything that came before it.
"You tied them like this on purpose?" Jay mutters, mostly to the shoe.
Jungwon huffs a soft breath that might've been a laugh. "I always tie them like that."
Jay glances up at him again, just for a second, eyes sharper now—not quite annoyed, but definitely thrown off.
"Yeah," he says, like he doesn't believe that for a second.
He goes back to the laces, this time slower, fingers working at the tucked loop, trying to find where it gives. The movement is more careful now, less force, more thought.
The space between them changes.
Jungwon notices that too.
He leans forward slightly, just enough that their faces are close again, close enough to feel Jay's breath even if they're not touching. His gaze dips, tracking the way Jay's hands move, the small crease forming between his brows.
"You can just leave them," Jungwon says, quiet, almost casual.
Jay shakes his head immediately, like that was never an option.
"No."
The word comes out softer than expected, but firm.
His fingers finally manage to loosen part of the knot, but it only tightens somewhere else, the lace pulling stubbornly against itself. Jay clicks his tongue under his breath, a flicker of frustration breaking through before he smooths it over again.
Jungwon watches that, too.
"Jay."
It's not a warning, not really. More like a check.
Jay stills for half a second, then looks up.
They're closer than before. Jungwon doesn't lean back again.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
Jay's hand is still wrapped loosely around Jungwon's ankle, the half-loosened lace slipping between his fingers. The other rests against the mattress, forgotten. Jungwon tilts his head slightly, studying him up close now, like he's seeing something he hadn't before.
"Are you done planning everything?" he asks, softer this time.
It's not teasing. Just... observant.
Jay exhales, the sound quieter than anything he's said so far. His gaze flicks—down, then back up—like he's deciding whether to push forward or let it go. For once, he doesn't answer immediately.
Jungwon shifts first, nearer.
He lifts one hand from the bed and places it lightly over Jay's where it's still at his ankle, fingers warm and grounding there, not to stop him, not to help either. Just there.
"You're thinking too much," Jungwon murmurs.
Jay lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
"Wasn't, before."
"I know."
Jungwon's thumb presses once, gentle, against the back of Jay's hand. Then he leans in the rest of the way, closing the space between them again, but slower this time, without waiting to be guided.
The kiss that follows isn't as precise.
It's not measured.
Jay doesn't set the pace this time—he just meets it.
His hand slips away from Jungwon's ankle without thinking, the lace falling back against the side of the shoe, undone and forgotten. Instead, he crawls back to the bed as his fingers come up slowly, settling at Jungwon's waist, then higher, like he's relearning where to hold.
Jungwon shifts on the bed, closing the gap completely now, one of his knees brushing against Jay's side. The angle changes again, but this time neither of them tries to control it.
It just... happens.
Slower.
Softer.
When they finally pull back, it's not abrupt. More like a gradual easing, breaths still close, foreheads nearly touching. Jay glances down briefly—at the still-on shoes, the uneven laces—then back up at Jungwon.
There's a beat.
"...Later," he says.
Jungwon's smile is small, but it stays.
"Yeah," he agrees, the word almost like a whisper.
Jay leans in again, quieter now.
Neither of them moves to fix it.