Archive of Our Own

Never, not once, in his seventeen years of life did Anton ever think he’ll say this... but truth be told, he’d rather be anywhere else than this party. Hell, he’d rather be in Mr Park’s boring three hours’ worth of Chemistry class where he does nothing but listen to the balding old man rant about electrons and covalent bonds like it’s the most interesting thing in the world (spoiler: it’s not—not even remotely close). That’s how you know it’s bad.

In fact, he feels like an 80-year-old man trapped in a teenage boy’s body at the moment. There are ninety-nine things he could complain about. The lights are too blinding, music too deafening, too many people with too little space. The off-brand, non-alcoholic beer tastes like piss. The food is anything but edible. His head pounds mercilessly against the cage of his skull. His mind is barely processing his surroundings due to the throbbing, constant pain.

Even with the school’s (objectively) prettiest girl practically glued to him, he feels nothing but nauseous.

Hanrim runs a hand through her straight black locks, flutters her long lashes. The girl is wearing a dark pink crop-top and a high-waisted denim mini skirt, making her look taller than the harsh reality of being barely five feet. Her plump, pink lips form a smile as she wraps her arms around Anton’s neck. Anton catches a whiff of her subtle floral perfume when her hair swings with her body movement. She’s gorgeous, nobody’s denying that. In fact ‘gorgeous’ is an insult to her beauty and charms. But Anton isn’t in the mood.

With his usual polite-borderline-flirty smile, he removes Hanrim’s hands from himself. The girl lifts her perfectly-shaped brow in confusion. It goes without saying the school’s primadonna Hanrim Liu is totally not used to rejection at all—much less from Anton Lee, her on-again-off-again fling.

“What’s wrong?” she asks with a voice slightly above a whisper.

“Nothing. Just… thirsty,” he lies with an easy smile. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”

Before she can react, he’s already making his way through the crowd. Not once did he look back. Hanrim must’ve figured something’s up beyond ‘just thirsty’—she’s smart, she knows that he’s not coming back. Wordlessly, she shakes her head, not in disappointment, and goes to where her friends are dancing.

The food table is secluded, tucked away in the corner of the huge living room, away from the heap of drunk teenagers. Anton grabs a red solo cup of the questionable-looking punch and takes a hesitant sip. Unlike the beer, there’s definitely alcohol in this. It stings at the back of his throat but it’s not anything he can’t handle. Tastes slightly better than the beer, though. He’ll give it that.

He places it on the table as a familiar figure staggers toward him. It’s Sohee, his best friend, definitely drunk judging from his pink cheeks and way of walking. Anton cringes for the inevitable second-hand embarrassment coming. Sohee’s nice, but… for the lack of a better word, he’s handful when drunk. Last time he’s drunk, he called his crush to ramble on about how pretty he is for thirty minutes straight. Anton had to snatch his phone away to save both of them from embarrassment (well, too late for that, but it had to be done).

“Yo, Ton!” He greets in a loud obnoxious tone that his sober self would slap him for. “Why are you here? Normally you’re in one of the rooms by now,”

Anton rolls his eyes although there’s not much bite to it. Getting offended by a drunk Sohee is like dying from a measly papercut. “You have such unique ways to call me a fuckboy,”

Sohee lets out a baffled sound. He appears surprised—hurt, even, that Anton would suggest such thing. But, to be fair, he’s really never even implied such thing. Anton just loved to mess with him, the straightforward guy he is. “Whoa, don’t put words in my mouth. C’mon man, I never judge you for that. Love who you want, dude, we’re grown and—"

“I know, be quiet now. What’s up with you? Normally you’ll cringe at the thought of alcohol,”

Sohee pauses. A (almost creepy) smile blooms on his face as he slaps Anton’s back. Anton lifts a questioning-slash-judging brow.

“I got nervous, man. He approached me earlier, and I was all what the fuck, because why would he talk to me out of all people? I mean, we know each other, but we’re not that close… He’s just—too goddamn gorgeous, man,” he replies, giving Anton more questions than answers. The taller man removes Sohee’s hand before he could cause a bruising. He’s abnormally strong when intoxicated.

“Is it Seunghan hyung? Is he here? I thought he moved away,”

“No,” Sohee’s already-pink face flushes even more at the mention of his crush (yes, the same crush from earlier). “It’s someone else.”

“Who?”

“Him, dude. Y’know, something about him… it’s so intimidating. It’s like talking to an A-list celebrity. I had to drink to calm myself down. I can’t help it, man,”

“Bro. I need a name,”

“Dude. Two words: Park Wonbin!”

Anton mentally repeats the name. Huh… he’s heard of that one before. Shocker. Usually Sohee’s hopeless one-sided yearning involves unknown, quiet Mary Sues (or whatever the male equivalent of a Mary Sue is, since he swings both ways) who mind their own business and only have like, three friends throughout school.

“That rings a bell,” he says. Sohee tsks.

“Yeah, idiot. One of the Music Club kids. Student body president. Dance team vice leader. Rich parents. I’m telling you, every girl… and dude… in our school got the hots for him,”

With the way Sohee’s describing him, Anton would’ve thought he was one of those dudes who have the hots for him if he didn’t know better of how loyal his friend is. After Seunghan moved away, he practically locked himself up in his room and moped for weeks. He only got better after Seunghan messaged him on Instagram to exchange numbers. A pause. Sohee’s smitten smile turns into a sour scowl in the matter of seconds.

“His boyfriend’s a prick, though,” He whispers—like he’s sharing a secret. Anton hasn’t seen that coming; his friend isn’t one to badmouth someone behind their back. He’s usually the in-your-face kind.

“His boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The soccer team’s captain,” Okay, Anton didn’t see this one coming either. Sohee himself is in the soccer team and, usually, when he’s sober, he seemed fond of the captain, whomever he is. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but he definitely doesn’t deserve Wonbin. He’s a sweetheart in front of everyone but he’s actually a piece of shit, that manipulative prick. I’ve lost count of the times I saw him treating Wonbin like shit.”

Anton’s gaze falls to his abandoned cup. He contemplates taking another sip, but opts against it. One of them gotta remains sober. Sohee’s nonsensical conspiracy theory about their schoolmates’ love affair is making it really hard, though. Sohee goes on with his rant. Anton has stopped listening five minutes ago. Get this: it’s unfortunate that this Wonbin dude got a toxic boyfriend, he’s sure he doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit whatsoever—but Anton quite literally doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know why he should care, either.

He cuts Sohee off with a dismissal wave. “Dude. I get it. But to me, you just sound bitter. Maybe he’s not a bad boyfriend, maybe you’re jealous.”

“I’m not! I don’t even like him in that way, dude, we’re friends, me and him. I’m only concerned for him. He’s a sweetheart, he deserves way better than that jerk,”

Anton nods, finding it unnecessary to argue with a drunk Sohee. Needless to say, the odds of Sohee befriending someone—much less a guy so way out of his and everyone’s league—is lower than that of snowfall in Southeast Asia.

“Whatever you say, bud,”

“You going back to Hanrim?” Sohee asks out of all sudden. He always knows who Anton’s hooking up with at the moment even if Anton doesn’t tell. Gotta be bro-telepathy or some shit.

Anton contemplates for a moment. He’s sure Hanrim has already found someone else to entertain her for the night and he’s more than sure she wouldn’t appreciate him coming back. To Hanrim, it’s going to be like putting the gum you threw away back in your mouth. That sort of thing does wonders to one’s ego, especially when one is at the top of the school’s food chain.

“No,”

“Come with me then,”

“Where?”

“Outside. With the soccer team. Eunseok hyung’s there too,”

Anton clicks his tongue. He sees where this is going. “Plus your not-crush and his boyfriend? No thanks. I’ll go smoke.”

Sohee snorts. “Fine. Meet me out front when you’re going home.”

Anton waves him off. Since he once steered off the roads and bumped into a traffic light to avoid a squirrel, Sohee’s banned from driving by his parents, so Anton takes him to and from everywhere.

The loud music becomes fainter as Anton goes upstairs, which is mostly empty aside from a few gross couples plastering their mouths on one another’s. He ignores them as he heads straight for the balcony. The balcony is separated from the hallway by thick velvety curtains. It overlooks the backyard, where Anton can see a group of his schoolmates fooling around like a bunch of drunkards (probably are). He pays them no mind. He fumbles through the pocket of his jacket and takes a cig out. Lighting it up using the red lighter he stole from his dad and has been carrying around for two years, he takes a long drag. The smoke dances around the dark night sky as Anton sighs in relief.

For a moment it’s like he’s the only one around. Even with the faint sound of laughter and chatter coming from below, the serene ambience almost sends him into dreamland. That’s it, until the curtains are pulled aside rather harshly.

Anton turns to see the prettiest boy he’s ever seen yet.

Something clicks in his mind. He knows this boy—well, obviously, they go to the same school—but there’s another prominent reason why. He’s Park Wonbin. The boy Sohee told him about. Up close, he totally understands why every girl (and guy, as Sohee said) at school wants to get into his pants.

Anton eyes him up and down—not even being subtle about it. Wonbin’s wearing a plain black sweatshirt and denim jeans that hug his long legs (he’s a bit shorter than Anton, maybe five foot seven or eight) perfectly. His heart-shaped lips are a subtle, pretty shade of pink, temptingly kissable. His dark brown, almost-black straight hair reaches just down to his shoulders.

Compared to a human, he looks more like a painting.

Wonbin narrows his eyes and crooks a thick, evenly-shaped brow. “Done checking me out, Mr No Subtle Bone?” Even his voice is an attractive low register—raspy, yet clear. Anton forms a lazy smirk.

“Not really. I’d like a closer look,”

Wonbin shoots him a murderous look. Anton thought he would leave, but instead, he sits, legs-crossed. He still maintains a safe distance between them, though. Probably doesn’t trust Anton enough to rule out any possibilities about him being a creep; his last remark certainly doesn’t help in that regard.

Silence then. Anton takes another drag of his cig while shooting Wonbin a not-so-sneaky glance. He can’t take his eyes off him. Her side profile is ethereal under the moonlight—hazel eyes a glowing lake of honey and chocolate. Now, Anton isn’t a poet, yet he can write five stanzas about Wonbin’s eyes alone.

“What are you doing here?”

“Do we need to have reservations first?” Wonbin replies, eyes fixed on the commotion beneath them. Anton couldn’t care less about what’s happening down there as he’s too fixated on the other figure on the balcony. Anton’s smile widens. A pretty person with a smart, unfiltered mouth is his weakness. He leans back, shrugging.

“ I mean... You seem like the type of person who spend most of their time under the spotlight,”

“Can say the same ‘bout you,” Wonbin pauses. “Yet here we are.”

Well, he does have a point.

Wonbin bites his bottom lip, as if contemplating something. He brings his legs to his chest and hugs them; folding his body in like a chair. With this stance his figure looks even thinner than it already is. It’s like he’s trying to hide himself from this world.

He jerks his chin towards a group of maybe a dozen of people on the yard. Anton follows his gaze. It’s the same group he’s labelled as drunkards earlier. You can’t blame him; they’re being obnoxiously loud. If not for the alcohol, Anton guesses it must be the lack of social awareness and common sense. “See the guy in the middle?”

It doesn’t take a genius to spot him. The type of guy who screams main character, whom the world revolves around. Dressed in a sleeveless tank (with defined biceps, what a show-off) and ripped jeans, with a killer dimpled-smile on his face, surrounded by people who’re either wanting to be in his good books or his pants.

The prince charming. Like Wonbin, he’s never not been under the spotlight.

The captain of the soccer team—Jung Sungchan.

The prick, Sohee’s voice echoes in his mind.

Deserving title, Anton thinks, when Sungchan’s places his hand on someone’s back for one moment too long. The person leans in, whispering something that earns a sultry grin from Sungchan. Anyone with functioning eyes and social skills could see how such a seemingly harmless exchange hides a flirty intention behind it.

Wonbin clenches his jaw. “He’s my boyfriend,” he gets the word boyfriend out with gritted teeth. His blood boils more when the person tiptoes and pecks Sungchan’s cheek. “Sungchan.”

In the dark, his eyes meet his boyfriend’s. Wonbin’s face remains neutral but his eyes are bold with murderous intent. Sungchan freezes like a deer caught in headlights before he smirks—as if he knows how much he’s pissing Wonbin off. And Wonbin knows he totally does.

Anton, on the other hand, is completely bewildered.

“You fine with that?” He asks dumbly. Wonbin sighs.

“Why do you think I’m here if I am?”

“Then why don’t you—I don’t know, talk it out? Maybe give him a good ol’ slappy slap? I’m no relationship expert but that doesn’t seem... healthy,”

Only then does Wonbin turn to him. He gives Anton a swift once-over. “Why do you care?”

Anton stays silent. He doesn’t know why, either.

“Just noisy,” he lies. Wonbin shakes his head.

“It’s pointless. Can’t change someone if they don’t think what they’re doing is wrong,”

Silence.

Wonbin keeps his focus on his boyfriend; his eyes just a bit wet. Anton’s a little afraid he might break down crying. He’s never been the best at comforting. Once, when Sohee broke down because he was afraid he had flunked his English test (he ended up getting an A+), Anton offered to buy him a lollipop, as if he was a toddler or something.

(Sohee did agree to his offer, but that doesn’t matter.)

What Anton doesn’t expect is for him to snatch his cig right out of his fingers. Before he can say anything, Wonbin takes a long drag, exhaling heavily. Anton gapes, dumbfounded, yet also impressed.

“You smoke?” He asks. It’s stupid, but he has never expected the prettiest guy at school to smoke—especially with her academic reputation. He probably should stop with his lame stereotypes and assumptions. Wonbin only shrugs.

“Sometimes. My parents don’t know, though,”

“Does he know?” Anton asks, tilting his head to the general direction of Sungchan. Wonbin nods.

“He’s getting me to quit,”

“Lemme guess. He’s also the reason you started?”

“Not quite,” Wonbin pauses. “Though he became one of them later on.”

Anton smiles. “Wonder why.”

As if realization has only struck him, Wonbin snaps up. He turns to Anton with such fierce eyes that Anton almost flinches. It’s like a cat’s gaze when you cross their line of boundaries. For someone with soft, bright eyes, strangely, Wonbin does look intimidating. It’s hot as it is scary. Anton totally understands why Sohee got drunk from trying to talk to him earlier. Although, for Anton, he’d rather get drunk on Wonbin himself.

“Don’t tell anyone a word I told you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Why? Afraid he’ll find out?”
“No. I don’t want people meddling in my life more than they already are,” Wonbin replies. He folds himself again, like he doesn’t want to be seen. “I don’t know why I told you all that. I never even told my friends about… all these.”

Anton pauses. A part of him wants to ask if Wonbin’s alright—his words and actions heavily imply he’s tired from being under the spotlight all the time, his every move being watched. But what rights do he have? None, zero. Nada. They’re strangers. If he asks, he’s afraid he’s no different than the ones who do pry on Wonbin’s life.

So, instead, he smiles. “It’s normal. You’re caught up in a toxic relationship. He pulled your last straw, you fled, run into a handsome stranger, hooks up—”

Holding a hand up, Wonbin rolls his eyes. “Oh, God. Shut up. Just when I thought you’re not a typical lust-driven high school boy,”

Anton chuckles.

“Hey, at least I’m a hot one,”

Wonbin gives Anton another, longer once-over. From Anton’s messy dark hair that reaches down to his nape, to his metal band shirt, to his fitted pants and worn-out sneakers. He shakes his head.

“You’re not my type,”

That should’ve offended Anton—but instead it has only piqued his interest more. Challenged him, even.

“Guess you got pretty bad taste,”

“To be fair, I probably do,” Wonbin shrugs, hinting at his boyfriend. The younger boy smirks in amusement. “But you’re really, really not my type.”

Anton scoots closer to him. Wonbin gives him a side stink eye. Dropping his voice into a sultry whisper, he says, “They always say that until I get them in bed.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Wonbin asks in a similar flirty tone. Anton holds his hands up, grinning.

“I’m kidding! Well, not about my bed skills, but I wouldn’t force myself on someone,”

A pause. Anton presses his lips into a thin line. Wasn’t expecting a yes, anyway. He’s more than ready to drop the topic when Wonbin speaks up.

“Y’know what, fuck it. Take me home,”

Anton blinks, taken aback. As someone who’s used to taking the lead, he didn’t expect that.

“Woah, changed your mind that quick?”

“What? No,” Wonbin says with furrowed brows, like Anton is insane for even thinking about it. “I want a ride home. No fishy business. And I mean it.”

“Geez, okay. But a please would be appreciated, beautiful,”

“Fine. Can you please take me home?”

Anton grins. That was easier than he thought. “Would’ve done so without you asking.”

“Fuck you,” Wonbin says in a tired tone, before adding, “And thank you.”

Anton gets to his feet, brushing dust off his pants. He reaches his hand out to help Wonbin— who blatantly ignores it—up. Playing it cool, he runs his hand through his hair.

“Lead the way, princess,”

Wonbin rolls her eyes subtly and brushes past him. Anton follows without a word. They squeeze their way through the crowd—with Anton throwing dirty looks at the dudes hitting on Wonbin every so often. Sohee was not lying when he said every dude in their school wants Wonbin.

When they get to the lawn, Wonbin turns to Anton.

“Which one’s yours?” he asks, nodding to the rows of cars. Anton chuckles. He points to the opposite direction.

“That one,”

Wonbin follows his finger and his gaze lands on a huge, newly-polished motorbike. His expressionless face evidently falls. Anton gets a surge of triumph over his reaction. Wonbin’s been so cold-faced all throughout the night; it’s refreshing to see a raw reaction from him.

“Oh, great. Of course you’d have a death guarantee machine as your ride. So much for not enforcing stereotypes,” he complains, despite making her way to it.

“What, changed your mind?”

He spins to Anton with a playful smile. His smile sets off alarms blaring all over Anton’s mind, yet he ignores it. “I’m not one to back off.”

A crooked grin spreads across Anton’ face.

“Me neither,” he murmurs.

He hands Wonbin his helmet and the other promptly takes it with no questions. That’s his only one, but it’ll be fine; he doesn’t care much about getting a concussion if it’s for someone as pretty as Wonbin. Getting up on the bike, Wonbin leaves a visible gap between them and Anton chuckles in amusement. Still, he doesn’t want to piss him off more than he did, so he drives off in a moderate speed.

The night breeze blows softly against his exposed skin. Behind him, Wonbin gives out the direction, occasionally gesturing to exits so Anton won’t miss them. When they reach a two-levelled bungalow with a spacious garden, Wonbin tells him to stop. Anton scans the house with amazement. He has heard of how well-to-do some of the popular kids are, but this is batshit rich.

The yard looks professionally-manicured with palm trees and flowers. Veins adorn the white fences; potted plants hang from the balcony. Anton doesn’t dare to imagine how it’d look inside. The garage alone looks bigger than his living room. Wonbin hands him the helmet, bringing him back to reality.

“Wanna come in?” he asks, running a hand through his straight hair. They fall back into place smoothly like those in shampoo commercials. “My parents aren’t home.” He adds, sensing it’s important to.

Anton lifts a brow. “I thought you said no fishy business.”

Wonbin gives him the stink eye again. He shoves the helmet onto Anton’s chest with more force than necessary and Anton grins. Totally like an annoyed cat.

“I’m inviting you in out of common courtesy. Saying no would’ve been easier than being a prick,”

“Okay, okay. My bad, princess. But I have to say no. It’s late and my folks are home. Maybe another time,”

“Bold of you to assume there’ll be another time,”

“I’m an optimist,” Anton says smugly.

“I’m a realist and the odds say no,”

“A guy can dream,”

Wonbin scoffs. He gives Anton a dismissal wave, a sign for him to leave—yet he stays and watches Wonbin like he’s been glued to his position. With every step Wonbin takes, Anton’ smile grows. When Wonbin turns back and shoots him a look, it turns to a grin. Wonbin rolls him eyes playfully.

“Go home,”

“You first,”

“I am home,”

“I’m not leaving until you get in,”

“Gentleman,”

“Not quite.” He smiles. “But if they’re your type, then I shall be one.”

Wonbin chuckles.

“Sure.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Drive safely.”

Only after Wonbin closes the door shut does Anton drive off. All night he stays up looking forward to seeing Wonbin at school.

~

“Lee Anton!”

Motions coming to a halt, Anton turns back. In the swarm of students heading for the exit he sees Sohee running towards him. Despite being in the same grade, they haven’t met at all today due to their schedules clashing. Sohee had soccer practice during recess so they couldn’t hang out either. Sohee—athletic, he is not, as ironic as this might be. He takes entire three minutes panting for air, giving Anton ample time to shove his books into his locker.

When he gets himself together, he slaps Anton’s arm. “How. Dare. You.”

Anton closes the locker, turning to Sohee with a half-assed apologetic look. He’s never been great at faking emotions, much less with his own friend. “Look, I’m sorry I left you at the party–”

“What? Not that. I don’t care about that. If this is true, I totally get why you left me,” Sohee says, and before Anton can ask him to define this he continues, “People saw you leaving with Wonbin.”

Anton’s mouth, which fell open to answer, closes itself shut. Well. Their gateway that night wasn’t exactly discreet. Not to mention they both attract attention on their own, and the effect doubles when they’re together… so go figure.

Fixing his bag strap, Anton scans his surroundings. Normally he wouldn’t think twice before answering. The answer is simple—why complicate it? He doesn’t know why this time he’s taking Wonbin’s feelings to account. A reckless yes right now would do more harm than good, it seems. Plus, Wonbin’s words last night still linger in the back of his mind.

“So?” Sohee prods, eager eyes flitting all over him.

“We did leave together,” Sohee’s eyes shine brighter.

“Boy, no wonder Sungchan looked pissed during practice—” Anton stops him with a flick of his wrist.

“Nothing happened,” he says dismissively—which isn’t a lie but isn’t the truth either.

Meeting Wonbin happened.
At that, Sohee rolls his eyes. “Liar. You can’t tell me you left with Park Wonbin and nothing happened.”

“It’s the truth, man. He only told me to take him home,”

“He told you to take him home?” Sohee repeats with a dubious brow lifted.

“Yeah,”

“Dude... The party was at his place,”

Anton’s face crumples in confusion. “What?” he asks, genuinely in disbelief. Sohee crosses his arms.

“Yeah, find a better lie,”

“That wasn’t a lie. He asked for a ride home. I took him there,” he insists. Sohee still seems skeptical.

“What was the house like?”

“Large, with a garden and a porch,”

“That’s any other suburban house, dimwit,”

“Uh... Two-story, with a balcony. Lots of plants,”

A pause. Sohee furrows his brows as his brain’s engines roar in his head. When something clicks, he snaps up.

“House number twenty three?”

“Hell if I knew, Sohee. It was dark,”

(And how could he know, if his attention was only on Wonbin.)

Finally concluding, Sohee snaps his fingers. “Must be Sungchan’s house, then,”

Anton snorts. No wonder it’s insanely huge.

“Why did he tell you to bring him there, though?” Sohee adds. His friend shrugs.

“He had a party at his place, one he didn’t look so eager about. Probably wanted to leave and the best bet would be his boyfriend’s place,”

“But Sungchan was there like, all night,”

“Who cares? Certainly not me ,” Anton replies nonchalantly much to Sohee’s annoyance. “ if you want to spend time investigating about their relationship again, go ahead. I’m going home.”

Before Sohee can react, Anton’s already heading to the exit. He shouts something at his friend’s retreating back and Anton only responds with a dismissal wave. Knowing Sohee, it’s probably a profanity (or a string of them).

When he approaches his usual parking spot, Anton fumbles through his pockets to find his keys. When he looks up, the key almost falls out from his grip. He stops in his steps.
Speaking of the devil.

Next to the spot where Anton has always parked his bike, on the cement pavement, sits Wonbin legs-crossed as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone. Brushing a hand through his hair, Anton approaches him with confident steps.

“To whom do I owe the honours of seeing your beautiful face today?” He starts in lieu of greeting.

Wonbin glances up briefly. His eyes flick back to his screen. “Didn’t expect to see you here,”

“Really? ‘Cause I’ve been parking my bike here only since freshman year,”

“You’d think I would know. Or care,”

“Doesn’t seem like a coincidence, no?”

Wonbin looks up with a bored look. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend to finish his stupid practice, and this is the only place with shade,”

“Nice excuse. Did you think of it three seconds ago?”

“God, I forgot you suffer from high-level narcissism,”

“And you suffer from denial, but you don’t see me complaining, princess,”

Wonbin scoffs and averts his gaze back to his phone. Anton sits down next to him. The older doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps scrolling on his phone, chin propped up by a hand. Anton clears his throat as an attempt to regain his attention.

“So. I think you owe me an explanation,”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” Wonbin replies without looking up. Anton chuckles.

“Well, yes. You’re correct. But if you’ll be ever so kind to care to explain why you told me to take you home when we, in fact, were at your house?”

Wonbin’s movements come to a halt. He pauses for a moment. He probably didn’t expect Anton to find out and call him out on his lie. Then he draws out a long sigh, shaking his head. “It’s stupid.”

“Try me,”

“...Well, because he was pissing the fuck out of me that night, I wanted to get even. And bringing another guy to his house seemed perfect to mess with his head,”

From what Sohee told him, it worked wonders. It sounds awfully petty, though… although Anton guesses that's just how their dynamics work. Although Anton would’ve preferred him to be honest about it. But why does it matter, still? Okay, yes, maybe Wonbin used him for it. So what? He’s no saint. He’s used way more people for his own needs.

He has no right to feel hurt.

“Is that enough for an explanation ?” Wonbin asks when Anton stays silent. The younger shrugs.

“Maybe. You know what can make up for it?”

“What?”

“Your number,”

“I don’t have a phone,” Wonbin says without missing a beat. Anton’s gaze falls to the phone still in his hands and lifts a brow.

“Are we sure about that?”

“Yeah,”

“Really sure?”

“Yup,”

“...Okay,” Anton shrugs. “I get it. Your boyfriend’s gonna get mad.”

That seems to do the trick. Wonbin glares at him. Anton almost grins triumphly. “I don’t care if he does,”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

A sigh escapes Wonbin’s lips. “Fine. I won’t give you my number, but you can give me yours and I’ll decide if I ever want to use it,”

“Deal,” Anton smirks.

Wordlessly Wonbin hands Anton his phone. He types in his own number and saves it under future boyfriend. A smile blooms on his face when Wonbin notices it and makes a disgusted face. Without hesitation he changes it to lee chanyoung. Anton’s heart skips a beat. He has never told Wonbin his name, especially his lesser-known one.

“How do you know my name ?”

“I don’t live under a rock, kid. You’re everywhere,”

“That’s a weird way to admit you stalk me... But okay,”

Wonbin rolls his eyes. He diverts his attention back to his phone. “You got what you want, now scram.”

“Just thought I’d keep you company while you wait,”

“That's like waiting for death to come knock on your door,” Wonbin says, firm. “He’s already pissed enough about you. I don’t know what he’ll do if he sees you with me.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of him?”

“I’m not. He won’t do shit to me. But you, I’m not so sure,”

A shit-eating grin forms on Anton’s face. “Are you worried about me, hyung?” Wonbin gives him a serious look. Leaning back, Anton shrugs. “It’s fine. I got nothing to lose.” He adds. Wonbin sighs as if saying have-it-your-way.

The place Anton’s parked his bike is far from the main gate, tucked in a secluded corner under a big tree. Not a place people frequently pass by. Which is good, because if there’s someone else here, this will reach Sungchan’s ears in matters of minutes. As fun as it is to get on Sungchan’s nerves, Anton wants to by Wonbin’s side, alone, just a little longer.

Wonbin’s pleasant face turns irritated and so does his typing pace. Anton lifts a confused brow at this. But, when he catches a glimpse of Wonbin’s screen, realization clicks.

“Him?” He asks simply. Wonbin nods stiffly as turns his phone off.

“Yeah. Apparently he’s got a study group he didn’t bother to tell me first-hand, even though I don’t know since when he gives a fuck about his studies. Nevermind that. At least I got the satisfaction of telling him you offered me a ride home,”

“I did?”

“Yup,”

“When ?”

“Right about now,” Wonbin gets up with an innocent smile. Anton blinks. “Take me home.”

The younger scoffs in amusement. Alas, he can’t say no to Wonbin.

“Your house... Or his?” Anton teases.

“Mine. I suppose you remember where it is?”

“I even remember the colour of the curtains, sweetheart,”

With a glare, Wonbin gently punches his shoulder. Anton grins.

Anton isn’t lying. He’s got the route to Wonbin’s house memorized already and it takes them less than ten minutes to arrive. Like that night, Wonbin shoves the helmet to his chest once he gets off.

“Thanks for the ride,” He says as he fixes his hair. Anton tsks.

“Not gonna invite me in?”

“Why should I?”

“As I recall... You were going to, given there’s another time. Isn’t this one?”

A pause. Wonbin looks like he’s trying to find ways to turn back time and slap his past self. Still, he did tell Anton he’s not one to back down, so there’s that. At last, he sighs. “Fine.”

“For real?”

“No fishy business,” he reminds, eyes fierce. Anton grins.

“Remind yourself that, sweetheart,”

Wonbin rolls his eyes. He gestures for Anton to come with him. The younger gladly follows him inside. In proper lighting, and lack of people, Wonbin’s house is actually neat. Sage green dominates the living room with tinges of brown. The clock is owl-shaped and the cushions resemble bird’s fur too. Overall it gives off earthy vibes.

“Sick,” Anton comments. Wonbin slides his bag off and puts it on the sofa.

“My ma’s obsessed with interior design,”

Anton snaps up at the mention of parents. “Is she in?”

“I wouldn’t let you in if she was. My dad’s out too,”

Nodding, Anton sighs in relief. God forbid he has to deal with Wonbin’s parents. If he learnt anything from his hook-ups: rich parents never approve of people like him that practically reeks of red flags and warning signs. Rightfully so, but still.

“Want a drink ?” Wonbin asks.

“Anything will do,”

Wonbin heads to the kitchen, but not before sternly reminding Anton to not touch anything. The younger half-heartedly complies. But it doesn’t mean he can’t lurk.

One side of the walls is full with family pictures. They’re arranged by chronological order, Anton assumes. On top of them all, there’s a picture of baby Wonbin–then one when he was about four. He’s wearing… kitten accessories. A fond chuckle escapes Anton’s lips. Anton takes his phone out and snaps a photo of it.

Just because Wonbin’s adorable.

He notices something odd, though. In the pictures, there’s always another boy with him, about his age. They don’t look related. The boy’s not in family pictures, either, just ones with Wonbin. When he sees the most recent picture, it finally clicks. The boy is Sungchan. The picture looks like it’s taken lately. They’re on a hammock at a beach, wearing identical sunglasses, big smiles on their faces. The picture would’ve been perfect if Sungchan wasn’t in it.

“I told you not to touch anything,”

Anton backs away from the wall. “My hands are on myself,” A smirk grows on his face as he checks Wonbin out, making a point by not being subtle at all. “Although maybe not for long.”

Wonbin rolls his eyes. He places a glass of coke on the table and plops down onto the couch. Whipping his phone out, he completely disregards Anton’s presence until the younger speaks.

“You and Sungchan were childhood friends, huh?”

Glancing up, Wonbin shrugs. “Technically. Our families are friends and we grew up together,”

Anton nods. He settles down next to Wonbin and takes a sip of his coke.

“No wonder people paint you as the picture-perfect couple. Rich childhood sweethearts growing up together? K-drama material. You should pitch your story to KBS,”

“Fuck off,”

Chuckling, Anton places his glass down. “I’m genuine. You looked happy in the pictures, especially the beach one.”
Wonbin’s eyes effortlessly find the said picture. He looks distant, though—like instead of looking at the picture, he’s looking through it. There’s a heavy look on his face as if conflicted with something. Then, wordlessly, he averts his gaze.

“I liked him better as a friend,” he mumbles. Anton lifts a brow.

“Why date him, then?”

A pause.

There it goes again. Wonbin folds his legs to his chest, appearing as small as possible. Wanting to hide away from everyone’s gazes, to disappear from this world. Anton gets an irresistible urge to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t.

“I do like him in that sense. But everything was better when we were friends. I only learnt about his… uglier sides after dating him. And I wish I didn’t,” he explains with a hardly-audible voice.

“Break up then,” Anton says simply. Wonbin shakes his head.

“I can’t,”

“Why not?”

“I’m too used to him that I’m scared to lose him. There’s a sense of comfort in the familiarity—regardless how much a jerk he is,”

Silence consumes the room. Wonbin’s eyes are casted downwards. Anton couldn’t say he relate; he’s never had a constant figure in his life. But he understands Wonbin, in a way. There’s a reason why people fear the unknown, things they’re not familiar with. Still, what’s so bad about trying new things, especially when the one thing you’ve known for all your life keeps hurting you?

He inches closer until their shoulders brush. Wonbin looks up. “Maybe you’re not meant for familiarity,” he says, shrugging, eyes locked with Wonbin’s. “Maybe you’re meant... to explore something new.”

Their fingertips touch, eyes still locked on each other. Nobody moves or speaks then. Still, the silence’s almost deafening. Wonbin’s not a fool nor a saint; he knows what Anton’s words meant. His heart thrums in his chest. His fingers twitch to reach out to Anton, but his conscience stops him. His eyes cast downwards and land right on Anton’s lips, slightly parted. Wonbin gets an urge to move in closer yet he snaps out of it. Guilt creeps into his veins. How can he even think of it?

As if on cue, his phone rings.

He snaps back to reality. Grabbing his phone, he stands up, moving as far as he can from Anton. His heartbeat hasn’t calmed. When he skims the caller ID, he bites his bottom lip.

“It’s Sungchan,”

Anton nods. That’s his sign to leave.

“Thanks for the drink,”

“Thank you for the ride.” Wonbin says. He watches as Anton head for the door, then hesitantly adds, “See you at school?”

Anton stops in his steps. His lips form a smile yet he doesn’t turn. Somehow he knows, if he sees Wonbin right now, he won’t be able to leave.

“See you, hyung.”

~

Wonbin slams his locker shut and draws out a long sigh. Around him, the halls are empty, which isn’t strange considering it’s almost 4 p.m. His Music Club meeting dragged on longer than it should—goddamn seniors can’t even make a simple decision and had to spend 2 hours fighting each other.

Never mind that. Today went by like a blur. He zoned out in every classes and didn’t even pay any attention, which is so unlike him. Even Sion had to snap him back to reality multiple times. Thank God teachers are biased—given his academic reputation and clear record—so they let him be. Still, he doesn’t know why a certain man just refuses to leave his mind today.

Before he can dwell on it, someone grabs his hand and turns him around, pinning him against the locker. Before he can react, too, the figure catches him in a lip-lock. Wonbin lets out a startled squeal but his body relaxes when he recognizes the figure. Goddamnit. Thank fuck the hallway’s empty.

“Hi, baby,” Sungchan whispers in this sickly sweet voice as he pulls back, smiling. He’s still wearing his jersey, sweating, damp hair sticking to his forehead. Still, he’s gorgeous, and he’s aware.

Wonbin deadpans him. “What’s gotten into you? We’re at school,”

“So? People like a little show sometimes. ‘Specially from us,”

Not wrong at all. They were voted best couple for three years straight (never mind that they were on a break, twice, in that time period). There’s even a specific forum on the student-managed school board dedicated for them.

Rolling his eyes, Wonbin tries to detach Sungchan from him, to no avail. Sungchan smirks as he leans in for another kiss.

“Stop it, Chan,”

“What’s wrong?” Sungchan shamelessly asks. “Can’t even kiss my boyfriend now?” He emphasizes the word ‘boyfriend’ as if reminding Wonbin of his place. It only added to Wonbin’s skyrocketing guilt.

“Told you, we’re in public,”

“So kissing your boyfriend in public is embarrassing but taking another guy home isn’t?”

Wonbin blinks in disbelief. He thought they’re over this. But, then again, he should’ve known better than to make Sungchan jealous, the possessive freak he is. He once got into a physical fight with Eunseok just for walking Wonbin home, and Eunseok’s his own best friend.

“That was days ago and I told you, nothing happened,”

Sungchan lifts a brow. “Really? Because my friends still see you with him,”

And the entire school still see you fooling around with uncountable amount of people, yet here we are.

He doesn’t even bother to reply. He stares at Sungchan, wishing he knew how to quit the man before him. Wishing they never crossed the platonic line. Wishing they never even met.

Sungchan scoffs. “ You’re not even denying,”

“I know my limits, hyung,” Wonbin claims, using the honorific just to get on the older’s nerves. Aside from when they’re in bed, Sungchan made him swear off honorifics because ‘it makes us seem distant’. “I’m not stupid. We’re friends. That’s all.”

“A friend... who’s too friendly to be one?”

“Are you accusing me of cheating?”

“I’m not. I’m only thinking that you’re looking for options if we break up,”

Is he serious?

Wonbin takes a deep breath. He’s tired of arguing over the same thing for the nth time this week. “You’re impossible,” he says simply before brushing past Sungchan.

Of course, Sungchan follows him. Wonbin doesn’t slow down his pace until he reaches Sungchan’s car. He doesn’t utter a word as he waits for Sungchan to unlock the door and gets in right away when he does. They sit in silence as Sungchan closes his door. He doesn’t start the engine and Wonbin keeps his gaze outside. His eyes land on the big tree—with a familiar bike next to it.

And suddenly his mind is filled with a certain boy again. The boy in worn-out sneakers and messy hair and is so not his type. The boy with a shit-eating grin every time he teases Wonbin because teasing Wonbin is his favourite thing to do. The boy and his lingering gaze that drives Wonbin crazy sometimes, wondering what’s hiding beneath it.

The boy and his words that quite messed with Wonbin.

He’s brought back to reality when Sungchan places a hand on his thigh. Still, he doesn’t spare Sungchan a glance.

“I’m sorry,” Sungchan starts. Wonbin clicks his tongue.

“Are you, or you’re only apologizing because you hate being ignored?”

“Babe, please. I went overboard. Jealousy got to me, alright? You know how much you mean to me and I get antsy when a man gets too close to you,”

Wonbin clenches his fists. Damn it. He hates how effortlessly Sungchan can break the wall he tries so hard to put up between them. He hates how Sungchan means none of those words yet he still believes in them. It’s an easy lie, something he’s said over and over again because he knows they put Wonbin in his place.

Sungchan lifts his chin and, slowly, guides his face to him. He’s smiling softly, and his gaze’s gentle—full with affection. Even if it’s a lie, it’s one Wonbin falls for over and over again.

“You know I love you, right?”

Wonbin’s ice melts. He nods. As easy as that, he’s wrapped around the older’s fingers again.

Sungchan’s smile broadens. He leans in closer. Wonbin places a hand on his cheek, gladly reciprocating when Sungchan closes the gap between them. His pulse fastens. His mind’s haywire. But the feeling of Sungchan’s lips on his blinded him from any red flag.

When he looks outside, the bike’s gone.

Yet the boy stays in his mind.

~

“Hi, handsome,”

Placing his glass on the bar, Anton turns. Before he can say anything, a delicate hand pulls him down to match their height. Their lips meet and Hanrim pulls back with a smirk. He scans her from head-to-toe. Even in the dim club, Hanrim’s hard to miss. Her sleeveless top is bright pink and skinny jeans eggshell white. A choker adorns her neck. Anton’s lips quirk up.

“Long time no see,” he replies.

“Says you. Why is it so hard to get a text from you lately?”

Anton tries not to think of a certain boy with long hair and plump pink lips, whose sharp words can stab you just as effectively as his soft smile can. The boy who’s been living rent-free in his mind since the first time they met.

The boy who’s not his—yet why does it hurt when he sees him with someone else?

He’s brought back to reality when Hanrim trails her slender finger up his chest. She flutters her long eyelashes and stops when she reaches his jaw. It’s her turn to take him in. Sleeveless black tee, black jeans with chains, worn-out sneakers—the usual. But Lee Anton could look like a five-star meal wearing a goddamn trash bag.

“When someone asks a question, you’re supposed to answer,” she says, pressing her knees against his.

“Just busy,” he lies. She lifts a brow.

“With?”

“School,”

“That’s bullshit. What, Mister Tough Guy suddenly cares about his grades?”

“Not that... someone I meet there,”

Hanrim recoils with a surprised look—but not unpleasant. She seems… intrigued. “I see. You’ve found my replacement.”

“Eh... I wouldn’t say that. He’s not replacing anyone,”

Anton shrugs, averting his gaze as if not to let anything slip. But Hanrim could easily read between the lines. It’s not like it’s hard, either. His cheeks flush just from the mere mention of ‘someone’. He refuses to meet Hanrim’s eyes, and, more importantly, such simple yet corny words have never escaped Anton Lee’s mouth.

“Oh. My. God. You’re telling me Mister Tough Guy caught feelings? I don’t know what sounds more fake between that or you giving a damn about school,”

Anton chuckles. He doesn’t bother denying or confirming. It’s useless, anyway; the ‘someone’ he’s caught feelings for is, at the end of the day, someone else’s boyfriend.

He looks around. The club, like any other friday night, is packed. He’s not in the mood for anything; he was initially only here to drink. He asked Sohee to come with at first, but Sohee denied, said he’s busy with schoolwork like the nerd he is. So he’s here alone. Certainly didn’t expect to bump into Hanrim, either. But now that he did, he doesn’t expect going home alone.

“Any plans for tonight?” Hanrim asks, leaning against the bar without actually sitting on a stool, arms crossed. Anton trails his finger on the lips of his glass.

“Not much. You?”

“Getting drinks with friends,” Hanrim nods to a group of girls their age on the dance floor. “But… that might change depends on the availability of Lee Anton.”

Anton chuckles again. Well. He supposes there’s no harm in going back to his old habits...

Until his gaze lands on a boy. His smile turns to a frown.

Wonbin.

In fact, he wonders how he hasn’t noticed him until now. The older is dressed to be noticed —bright blue cropped hoodie and ripped skinny jeans. He’s smoking and surrounded by guys, laughing loudly at something they said (Anton bets it’s not even that funny).

His fit, while perfect, is rather unlike him. He himself is unlike the Wonbin Anton knows. The Wonbin who’s always keeping himself hidden and tucked away, avoiding attention even if he naturally draws them. This couldn’t be good.

Anton’s worry lines deepen. From the look of his cheeks, Wonbin must be at least half-drunk.

Hanrim follows his gaze and turns back to him, studying his concerned expression. As if understanding the situation, she smiles. “You got great taste.”

Anton stands up, gaze still on Wonbin. “I know, but he doesn’t, and I have to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get it. You’re not available,”

“I’ll text you later?”

Hanrim clicks her tongue and flicks her wrist. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Tony. Good luck with your boy.”

Hanrim smiles and gives him a dismissal wave before heading towards her group. Somehow it feels like she’s dismissing their whole vague of a relationship. Anton smiles. It might be. Hanrim’s smart, she knows everything.

But now he has another problem to worry about.

As he approaches Wonbin, realization strikes him. He recognizes the bunch of boys surrounding Wonbin—watching him with eager eyes like lions watching a deer. They’re soccer team. Strangely enough, Sungchan is nowhere to be found. Anton almost scoffs. What happened to bro-code?

Wonbin notices Anton’s presence as he gets closer. His face brightens. Before Anton can say anything, Wonbin brushes through the group towards him, and pulls the younger into his embrace. Anton stiffens out of shock. Wonbin, unfazed, wraps his arms around Anton’s neck. If he could feel Anton’s rapid heartbeat, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m so happy to see you here, Chanyoung,” he says, words slurred, voice lower than usual. Anton gets a whiff of champagne mixed with nicotine. Beneath that, there’s a faint smell of sweet cologne and strawberry shampoo.

Anton pulls back slightly. The gaze in front of him is too much to handle. Wonbin, beautiful Wonbin, pressed against his own body, his messy hair covering the top of his eyes, his pink lips slightly wet from saliva and alcohol, his abdomen revealed due to the length of his hoodie. His lashes flutter prettily on top of his bright, doe eyes, looking up to Anton with such a fond look. If Anton’s not actively keeping his shit together this very moment, he would’ve kissed Wonbin stupid right here and right now.

“You’re drunk,” he says in the calmest tone he can muster. Wonbin giggles; Anton’s composure is tested again. His laugh is light like the bubbles in a glass of champagne.

“Um, duh? Isn’t that the purpose of going to the club?” Damn him for being sarcastic even when drunk.

“That’s enough for the night. Let’s go home,”

“No.” Wonbin pulls back. “Come have a drink with us.”

Anton’s eyes flick up to the guys. They’re mostly around Wonbin’s age and friendly with Sungchan, to say at the very least. He wonders if the said man knows about this. Probably not. He’ll barge in like a madman if he does. And someone’s definitely getting rushed to the hospital (spoiler: it’s one of them).

“What are you doing with them?” Anton asks, dropping his voice into a whisper.

“Drinking. Having fun,”

“Where’s Sungchan?”

Wonbin rolls his eyes. “Don’t mention that asshole’s name.”

Believe him when he says he didn’t want to, either, especially after he saw them in the car together past few weeks. But, still, having Wonbin with Sungchan, his own boyfriend, is infinitely better than leaving him with a group of boys, drunk out of his mind.

“Wonbin hyung, please. This is unlike you,”

“You can just say no and be done with it,”

“I’ll take you home—"

“No. I’m staying,”

“Wonbin—”

“Let him be,” one of the guys interjects.

His friend snickers. “Yeah. What are you, his boyfriend?”

Anton shoots them a glare. Without saying a word, he grabs Wonbin’s wrist, ignoring the older’s rebuttals. He drags Wonbin through the ocean of patrons to the outside of the club.

“Chanyoung—let me go! What are you doing?” Wonbin protests.

“I’m taking you home,”

It’s impossible to get Wonbin on his bike in his current headspace so Anton stops a cab instead. He forces Wonbin to get in, ignoring Wonbin’s glare directed right at him. The ride home is quiet. When they arrive, Wonbin gets out first, storming to the door. Anton follows him after paying and thanking the driver.

“Why are you acting weird tonight ?” he asks as Wonbin unlocks the door.

“It’s none of your business,”

“I’ll make it my business,” Anton says firmly.

Wonbin doesn’t reply as he yanks the door open. Anton gets in without an invitation and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t even care about the possibility of Wonbin’s parents being home.

The house is quiet and dark. Wonbin’s parents must be out (thank God). Anton pockets his hands as he follows Wonbin upstairs. His job is to make sure Wonbin doesn’t do anything stupid and, ideally, go to bed. But Wonbin—being difficult on purpose, Anton’s sure—makes a turn for the balcony instead.

“Aren’t you going to sleep? It’s pretty late,”

Fumbling through his pockets, Wonbin gets a cig out. “You can crash if you want to sleep. Just let me be.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Wonbin answers a little too quick for it to be natural. He lights up his cig and takes a drag. His pink lips leave a stain on it.

Anton inhales sharply. He knows he has zero rights to meddle. Don’t get him wrong, usually he couldn’t care less about other people’s lives; he’s never the type to meddle. But when it comes to Wonbin, it’s hard to act like he doesn’t care when he does. He does care, badly, and it kills him that he doesn’t have rights to. That’s the thing. They’re nobodies. He has no clue why he cares so much about Wonbin.

He walks up to Wonbin and snatches the cig from his lips. Wonbin looks up, flabbergasted and annoyed.

“Stop ruining yourself for him,” he says softly. Wonbin averts his gaze.

“Funny you assume this is because of him,”

“Is it not?”

Wonbin meets his eyes again—gaze hard and determined. “No.”

“Then why?”

“You,”

Anton furrows his brows. “Me?”

“Yes. You. Do you know how much I thought about your words? I thought I was going insane. But you… you probably didn’t even mean them,”

“Says who? I did,” Anton says without hesitation. “I didn’t think you’d actually care. But I meant them. Every word.”

Something flashes on Wonbin’s face. He recoils like Anton’s slapped him, but his eyes are bright. Almost hopeful. His eyes flit all over Anton’s face, as if searching for something. It gives Anton an irresistible urge to kiss him. And he won’t fight it this time.

Gently, Anton grabs his shoulders and leans in. Their eyes stay locked for who knows how long. He tugs on Wonbin’s chin softly until his lips part open. Wonbin’s eyes flicker from him to his lips, both of their heartbeats going crazy. Wonbin’s skin is warm to the touch as he flushes bright pink.

“Chanyoung...”

“Forgive me for this,”

He tilts his head and kisses him.

A faint gasp slips out of Wonbin’s mouth. Somehow, it fuels Anton’s ego, and he kisses him harder. Wonbin closes his eyes shut and returns the kiss, knees growing weak. As if sensing it, Anton wraps his arms around his waist to hold him up. He feels himself losing any balance or sane judgement. The mix of bubbly champagne and bitter tobacco on Wonbin’s mouth taste sweeter than any candy, more intoxicating than any cigarette.

Wonbin moans when Anton presses him against the railing, a hand grazing over his bare torso. When they part for air, Anton sees the glints of desire in Wonbin’s eyes, and his chest tightens. Their lips meet again with sheer desperation and want. Anton’s body pushes against Wonbin’s rather hungrily, yet the older doesn’t mind at all. If Anton’s going to take, Wonbin gladly gives.

Then, as if realization strikes, Anton pulls back. Wonbin blinks at him confusedly.

Wonbin has a boyfriend. How can he forget that?

No matter how much he wants the boy before him, Wonbin is somebody else’s.

“I should go,” he murmurs.

“But—but why?”

“It’s late,” he replies half-heartedly, spinning around.

Before he can leave, Wonbin grabs the hem of his shirt. Anton turns reluctantly. Wonbin looks up to him with sad eyes. “Stay the night.”

“Wonbin—”

“Please. Stay with me,”

When Wonbin’s using those eyes on him, Anton couldn’t possibly deny him his wants.

~

“You sure ‘bout this, dude?” Anton nods once. Sohee fiddles with the straps of his rucksack. “You’re digging your own grave, y’know that?”

A sigh escapes Anton’s lips. He’s aware of that. But he has to face the consequences of his own actions, and he rather it be sooner than later. So here he is—the locker room of the soccer team, like a pathetic loser. He’s here to apologize to Sungchan. A sentence he never, in his entire life, thought he would ever utter at all. Certainly not in this context.

“Don’t y’think you should just leave?” Sohee adds when Anton doesn’t reply.

“No. I’m apologizing to him,”

“Why are you making such a fuss outta this? I’ve never seen you giving two fucks,”

“Look, Sohee. I might do questionable shit all the time but I draw the line at cheating,”

Sohee grunts, ruffling his hair. Anton doesn’t know why he’s the one who’s so stressed out. “Man. Can’t you at least text?”

“You’re free to leave if you’re that scared of Sungchan,” Anton replies calmly. Sohee turns red-faced.

“I’m not! It’s just—he’s just my Captain and there’s a sense of respect, but there’s no way I’m scared of him—”

“Just admit it,”

Sohee sighs. “A little.”

“You can go home, wuss,”

“What ‘bout you?”

“I’ll be fine,”

“You know how he gets when it comes to Wonbin, right?”

“I’m okay, Sohee. I brought this upon myself,”

Sohee couldn’t retort. Knowing Anton, the stubborn-head he is, he’ll never win anyway. So he bids Anton good-luck and off he goes. It’s not like he was eager to stay, anyway, he just wanted Anton to leave with him.

Anton glances to his watch. It’s inching to three o’clock, the time practice usually ends. He takes his phone out; no new messages either. Not that he’s been expecting one from Wonbin... Totally wasn’t.

They haven’t talked since that night.

To be fair, nothing happened after the kiss. Anton stayed the night, they shared a bed to sleep, but that was all. The only skin-to-skin contact made was Anton playing with Wonbin’s hair as he slept. He couldn’t help himself; something about Wonbin’s state that night broke something in him. He looked like a scared kitten finding comfort.

Still, it felt appropriate to keep his distance. He basked in the company of a man who, despite the ugliness of his relationship, is still in one.

The door clicks. Anton turns, and, before he can say anything, Sungchan grabs his collar and slams him against the locker with a loud thud. Guess the rumours about him sending people to the hospital aren’t an exaggeration.

Damn. So much for peace offering. At this rate, Anton’s lucky to walk away in one piece.

“You’ve got some nerves appearing here,” he snarls.

“I know you’re rightfully mad, but can we talk?”

“About what? About you hooking up with my boyfriend?”

Anton pauses. Honestly, he’s surprised Sungchan hasn’t attacked him any sooner. There’s no way that Wonbin didn’t tell Sungchan about what happened. Judging from their dynamic, they tell each other everything no matter what. Wonbin was never afraid of Sungchan to begin with. He probably couldn’t care less about telling him.

“You’re stupid to show your face in front of me,”

“I want to apologize,”

“For being a dickhead and a homewrecker?”

“I’m sorry I kissed your boyfriend,” Anton says, ignoring Sungchan’s remark. He smiles a bit. “And I’m sorry I regret none of it.”

Sungchan’s face morphs into disbelief infused into annoyance. He backs off, scoffing. Then, faster than Anton’s eyes can comprehend, he blows a punch straight to his face. Goddamnit. Sungchan has no chill. Anton could’ve sworn he heard the sound of his nose breaking.

“I didn’t regret that either,” Sungchan sneers.

“Fair,” Anton says, touching his nose. Blood stains his fingers.

“This is your last warning. Leave Bin alone,”

“Can’t promise anything on that,”

“What, a punch isn’t enough? Want me to beat you up?”

Anton chuckles, wiping the blood using the sleeves of his shirt. “I’ll leave him alone only if you promise not to treat him like shit anymore.”

Sungchan, red-faced, grabs Anton’s collar again. This time Anton only stares down at him with equally cold eyes. The debt is paid. They’re on equal footing now.

“The fuck did you say?”

“I know how you treat him. Hell, everyone knows. Don’t you think you’re kinda a hypocrite for getting mad at him kissing me? You’re not very monogamous yourself,”

Sungchan’s grip tightens as he clenches his jaw. “I swear I’ll beat you up, you piece of shit—"

“Jung Sungchan!”

They turn to the voice at once. It’s the reason why they’re fighting, standing there in flesh.

Wonbin’s gaze pingpongs from Anton to Sungchan then back to the youngest. He narrows his beautiful eyes as he approaches them. “What the fuck happened here?”

Sungchan lets Anton go albeit reluctant. None of them meet Wonbin’s eyes.

“Sungchan,” Wonbin calls, tone demanding an explanation. Sungchan sighs.

“I was teaching this bastard a lesson,”

“You have zero rights to,”

“He kissed you,” Sungchan reminds, like it explains everything. Wonbin scoffs, as if he’s seen that coming.

“And? You’re not my boyfriend anymore,”

Anton’s eyes widen in the slightest. From the corner of his eyes, he sees how Sungchan’s jaw tenses.

“Babe,”

“We’re over. I told you,”

“Wonbin. You were mad and weren’t thinking straight—”

“I know what I was thinking. I want quits,”

Sungchan’s eyes flicker to Anton for a mere second then back to Wonbin. “We need to talk. Alone.”

“Not now. Can you just leave?”

“Not before we talk,”

“You have my number and you know where I live. I want to talk to Chanyoung now, so please leave,”

Still, Sungchan hesitates. The cold expression stays on Wonbin’s face, though, clearly indicating he’s serious. At last Sungchan complies—but not before throwing Anton a dirty look. The door slams shut. Anton still won’t meet Wonbin’s eyes even as the older approaches him.

Slowly, Wonbin reaches out a hand and touches Anton’s cheek. He inspects the wound with concern on his beautiful face. Anton frowns when he retreats his hand; but Wonbin only does it to retrieve a handkerchief from his pocket. He hands it to him and Anton murmurs a thank you.

Wonbin eyes the wound again. “Damn, he got you good. Might need a plastic surgery to fix that.”

“What, you don’t like me with a broken nose?”

“Bold of you to assume I like you either way,” Wonbin says. He cringes at the amount of blood as Anton removes the handkerchief from his nose. “I swear that bastard has to attend some temper-control classes.”

“I mean... it’s justified. I’d lose my mind too if someone kissed my boyfriend,” Anton says. The word ‘boyfriend’ is being used as a bait to get Wonbin to tell him what really happened. He studies Wonbin’s reaction. The older looks calm, composed.

“You heard me. I’m not his boyfriend anymore. I broke up with him two days before we kissed,”

“Really?” Anton asks, hoping he hasn’t sounded too hopeful (probably failed).

Wonbin nods. So he didn’t cheat. More importantly, Anton wasn’t kissing someone’s boyfriend. Why the hell was Sungchan so mad?

“Hard to believe,” Anton replies with a faint smile. Wonbin shrugs.

“Judging from his reaction, I guess he didn’t believe it either,”

“Can’t blame him. Wouldn’t let you go too if it was me,”

“Real funny,” Wonbin says, despite his cheeks reddening.

“Why did you break up, though?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“I mean, yeah. But why now?”

“I don’t know... Guess you were right. I’m meant for unfamiliarity,”

He looks up to Anton, then. Their eyes meet. It’s Anton’s turn to turn red. Wonbin’s the first to look away. He pries the handkerchief away from Anton, only to gently clean the remains of blood from his nose. Anton’s eyes stay on him the entire time. Then it strikes him—he’s already single and they even kissed. What’s stopping him from asking Wonbin out?

“I can’t do relationships right now.” Wonbin states like he could read Anton’s mind. Anton’s face falls until Wonbin cheekily adds, “But it might change in the future.”

A smile tugs on the corner of Anton’s lips. “I thought I wasn’t your type?”

Wonbin chuckles. To Anton’s surprise, he tiptoes, matching their eyelevel. Their lips brush ever so slightly as Wonbin minimizes their personal spaces. Anton’s eyes widen, caught off-guard. Wonbin smirks at his reaction.

His voice drops into a whisper, teasing. “Maybe that changed, too.”