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Suho lay lax on his couch—one leg bent, Seongjes sat next to him in his usual manspread. The scene isn't unfamiliar to Suho in any way, in fact it's been his usual way to occupy time these last few nights. Sieuns been busy studying for exams, and as much as Suho would've clinged to the other a few years ago, he's found someone with a bit more availability at night than his best friend.
Suho and Seongje’s relationship had been a strange build up, a spark that was likely to start a flame that would inevitably spitball into something bigger. Their morals don't align—not even close—but that's what started it, really.
Even now, Seongje’s morally black side shows itself, a grin that’s wolfish in the way you know he's got nothing good brewing. Of course, he's mellowed out—around Suho—his intentions are a little less heinous. Suho distantly recalls the first few weeks leading up to the peak of his and Seongje’s friendship. When they really realized; no matter how much they fought, the itch to be shrouded in the others presence would linger.
Now they're in Suho’s apartment playing video games. Suho eyes Soengje, rolling his tongue around in his mouth—occasionally pressing it against his cheek. They're playing some teamwork game, which isn't up either of their alleys, but Suho thought the evil moron needed a lesson.
They'd met a couple months back now, only having grown a closer bond the last few weeks. Seongje wasn't easy to get along with, and Suho started realizing why people were so hellbent on imprinting the thought that Seongje was something comparable to that of a wolf in the wild. Suho snorted at the comparison at first, but after his first real fight with Seongje, he realized the other only played these games for the satisfaction of a lick of blood.
“How have you managed to cheat in a teamwork focused setting?” Suhos exasperated, whining at the end of his sentence. He sits up with a huff, letting his socked feet hit the floor with a soft thud. His elbows support him as he leaned forward, trying to stop Seongje from fucking up their fifth run.
“There's always a way to break down the game, you should know this.” Seongje rolls his eyes, but it's clear he’s enjoying himself. The sight makes Suho divert his attention back to the screen where Seongjes managed to glitch the game.
They've died and are back to the first stage. Seongje’s near silence that he insists is laughter rings in Suho's ears and he's fed up. The controller drops to the floor and in one swift movement he’s got Seongje pinned to the couch; he's on top of him, knees bracketed on each side of Seongje's thighs, both of his hands clench the arm of the couch Seongje's head rest on.
Suho’s face is contorted into what Seongje would consider an angry pout. The other very much would argue, probably until they end up in the plight they’re in now. Which happens to be a very recurring thing now that Suho thinks about it. The realization hits him and he just blinks down at Seongje, his face looking confused more than anything.
The close proximity, which just now hits him like a truck, sends a lick of fire through his nerves, and he feels a bead of sweat roll down his neck. He feels warm for the first time tonight, he keeps his place cold, he couldn't bare the heat when it left his apartment rather warm and sticky—so why has his skin suddenly begun feeling like it's been set ablaze? He's had Seongje pinned down multitudes of times before, and the latter has done the same to him.
“Usually you'd scold me by now. What's got you all tongue tied?” Seongje's tone is a delicious mix of snark and genuine confusion, it makes Suho’s cheeks turn pink. Whether from embarrassment or the smooth sound of Seongje's teasing.
The worst part, Suho decided, is the fact Seongje is right. He knows Suho’s reactions to his ribbing so well, he can perfectly predict what he would do. Usually. Now, even Suho doesn't know what his next move is.
“Nothing. Ever heard of uncomfortable silence?” Suho’s attempt at seeming composed is miserable at best, abysmal at worst. His voice wavers and he has to clear his throat which lands him an unimpressed raise of the brow from the man he has pinned down.
Seongje just presses his tongue against his cheek before a laugh bubbles from his throat, the sound reverberating in Suho’s ears. He considers the fact that maybe he's close to fainting and that's why his heart's thumping in his chest—he can hear it blending with Seongje’s laughter—or that it could explain the way his arms suddenly feel weak.
“Hello? Ahn Suho? Am I finally losing you?” Seongje huffs out, his stupid lips still displayed with that stupid smirk that makes Suho’s condition no better.
“Stop talking. It's supposed to be uncomfortable.” Suho borderline pleads, whether Seongje catches that he can't tell, which makes sweat drip down his forehead. His friend is so incredibly difficult to read it makes his head swirl more than it already is.
Everything feels hazy all of a sudden, as if he's pounded a bottle or two of Soju back. The burn in his chest is comparable as well, his breath hitches at Seongje beginning to sit up and his scrambling isn't quick enough to stop him from landing a seat in Seongje’s lap.
“The only one who seems uncomfortable with the silence is you.” Seongje supplies, not so helpfully.
Their new position only releases a wave of butterflies in poor Suho’s stomach. His whole world has been flipped now that he's starting to come to terms with why he's been thrown for a loop. He actually likes Seongje. Not just as his imbecilic friend, but in the way his lips suddenly look almost appetizing. He doesn't realize he's staring until Seongje’s smile is gone, replaced with a confused jut of his bottom lip.
“Huh? What are you pouting for?” Suho asks, his voice devoid of his usual teasing nature. He really tried to keep a hold of himself, but his tone is coming out terribly confused, as if he himself is lost in what's happening.
“Thought we were playing the quiet game.” Seongje wheezes, Suho faintly wonders if the sound is a result of the five packs he smokes a day, if it'd be more full rather than so breathy. Maybe he's exaggerating, but he's not big on Seongjes smoking!
“Not like you were listening to begin with.” Suho scoffs, his usual nature returning as the banter started up again.
There was just something so right about this setting, their position, the way they talk to each other. It's like they're constantly in their own little world when together. As if the close proximity cuts off the outside world completely.
Neither register who started leaning in first, there was no tension lingering, somehow this felt just as normal as playing video games on Suho’s couch every night. As if a kiss shared between them was something they'd rehearsed before.
“There's more effective ways to get me to stop talking, you know. Stop debating.” Seongje gets out before Suho has enough.
Their lips meet and Suho swears this is more exhilarating than any fight he's been in. They break apart for a split second, their eyes meeting before they delve back into each other. Suho thinks—which he's found difficult to do as his lips moved against his best friends.—that it's strange how even now, he and Seongje fit together so perfectly.
A hand moves towards the back of Seongje’s head, gripping a fist full of hair, Suho doesn't do anything but try and press Impossibly closer to the other. A feeble attempt, he knows, but he really doesn't want this to be over. Once they really do have to pull back for air, a million thoughts run through his head.
How did Seongje know Suho wanted to kiss him? Did Seongje know Suho wanted to kiss him? Did Seongje want to kiss Suho this entire time? Does Seongje like him too? Is he fucking with Suho?
“I can practically hear you thinking, I didn’t fucking bite off your tongue, use it.” Seongje snorts, still acting normal despite the fact he knows what Suho's lips feel like against his.
“How? Why?” Suho splutters, and he knows the joke Seongje is about to make.
“What? When? Where?” Seongje smirks like he's the funniest man alive. Suho thinks he might be dead soon.
“Yeah, no, you gotta leave now.” Suho groans, beginning to climb off Seongje, but is met with a pair of hands on his hips. He stares at Seongje in bewilderment, as if the very act was beyond his comprehension.
“What do you think you're doing?” Suho questions, his mouth agape from shock. His lips are red and a little swollen from the kissing. Right, the kissing.
“You can't kick me out, not yet.” He snickers, and Suho has the urge to punch him and break his glasses.
“Why not? You made a stupid joke, you know I don’t tolerate stupid jokes.” Suho sighs, shaking his head.
“You make a million stupid jokes everyday. It's really unbearable, you know.” Seongje rolls his eyes as he feigns annoyance.
“You think my jokes are stupid?” He gasps, moving a hand to cover his heart. Suho himself knows his jokes are stupid, but he likes to guilt trip the other when he can.
“I think you're stupid.” Seongje tries not to laugh, but he splutters anyway. Suho can't help but follow after, both of them dissolving into a fit of giggles.
Suho feels so at ease, he can't even find it in him to feel nervous about the talk they're bound to have. Never in his life did he think he'd be able to feel so calm with Keum Seongje of all people; here he is sat in his lap, having abandoned the mere idea of getting up.