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How do you ask someone out when you see them every day? Lunch is a daily occurrence, watching movies on weekends is too, and taking them to the top of a mountain for a self-discovery through ayahuasca isn't an option, so how do you ask someone out when you see them every day?
Almorzar juntos es algo cotidiano, ir al cine los fines de semana también, y llevarlo a la cima de una montaña para un viaje de autodescubrimiento con ayahuasca no es una opción, así que ¿cómo invitas a salir a alguien que ves todos los días?
Yunho would love to have at least a rough answer, but the love around him always unfolded so organically that it often made him believe it simply didn't come naturally to him.
"Your mother and I have been dating since we were teenagers, I guess it just happened," his father would reply, taking the hand that always rested tenderly beside him and offering a gentle smile, not necessarily worn by time, but simply understood.
"You know he can't be subtle, it just happened." Seonghwa would laugh, looking at Mingi with a raised eyebrow, enjoying his boyfriend's inability to hide his feelings.
"One day I just knew kissing him was the right thing to do, it just happened." He would call him San, after Wooyoung said something like, “When I had San’s belt buckle on my forehead, I had to propose.” Or one of those things he usually says, but he was sure that even so, that phrase, that long suffix, would be there.
It just happened.
So why doesn’t it happen to him? Him, so willing to let whatever happens happen to him just to end up with Hongjoong grinning at him like a squirrel across the table.
“I’m done for today. Are you going home or to your parents’?” Yunho snaps out of his reverie when he sees Hongjoong behind his chair, kicking one of the wheels to get his attention.
“Home. I don’t want to travel too much.”
Yunho shuts down his computer and stretches before standing up to grab his jacket from the back of the hard office chair. Hongjoong starts walking toward the hallway and calls the elevator, knowing the younger man will follow him.
“Poor mom, huh? Didn’t she need help putting something together in the yard?”
“She has another son, she should put him to work.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Don’t start with your little brother stuff or I’ll smash your head in.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Yunho raises an eyebrow as they step into the elevator. “I just know for sure that my brother probably talks about me the same way.”
“My brother can handle it, he’s grown up, while you’re just an anemic little weasel. If your dad ever told you to move a bag of cement, you’d report him for homophobia.”
“Everyone fights the battles they choose, and I’m not going to be lifting cement. Am I guilty?”
“Learn how to put up a shelf and then tell me.” The shorter one pinched his arm, making him laugh.
“I’m never asking you for a fucking favor again, you hear me?”
“Finally, dude.” Another pinch and a few more laughs. The elevator doors opened on the ground floor, and they walked calmly, saying goodbye to the doormen and the coworkers who were coming in to finish their shift.
Yunho held the door for Hongjoong as he stepped out and returned to that suffocating cloud of thought.
Could it be that “it wasn’t happening” because it wasn’t Hongjoong who it should be happening with? That was the thought he'd been resigning himself to lately, but what could he do if he wasn't doing anything about it anyway?
Hongjoong's small figure stood before him, glancing both ways across the street, waiting for the moment to cross, and the question inevitably weighed on his mind. Sometimes he longed to pause or momentarily banish that burden, to enjoy Hongjoong as a friend and not as a torment, but he knew that this heavy thought was only temporary, that there were moments when his mind and reality could coexist peacefully. Tragedy, however, is an eternal journey and easy to forget when one tries to separate oneself from it and make it foreign.
They crossed the street, and his attention was drawn to the ends of Hongjoong's shoes, with a fear of seeing him too closely but a longing that wouldn't allow him to see him less.
"What if you come to my house?" When they stopped, Yunho noticed they were already waiting for the bus in their usual spot.
“And what will happen when I tell my mom I couldn’t go help her because you kept me in your apartment?”
“Aww, you poor thing, so trapped…” The shorter man’s eyes betrayed a laugh he couldn’t let out.
“That depends. What do you want to eat?”
“Fried chicken from the rotisserie.” Yunho let out a laugh through his nose.
“Should we pick it up before we get there?” Hongjoong smiled at him as his suggestion was accepted.
“Of course.”
The fried chicken was in the oven, ready to heat up whenever they wanted to eat, but in the meantime, Hongjoong was sitting on the floor in front of him, happily taking the first sip of the coffee he'd made as soon as they arrived.
"We should have bought pastries at the bakery."
Hongjoong shrugged. "If you want to go downstairs, take my keys, no problem, just like you own the place."
"Lazy little runt, I'm not buying a thing now." Yunho got up and walked to Hongjoong's kitchen to grab the first thing he saw.
When he came back with a package of cookies in his hand, Hongjoong was listening to an audio message, looking annoyed. "Yu, did you happen to return the records to the Purchasing guy?"
The taller man sighed and threw himself down on the floor in front of him. "No, they're coming to pick them up in two days."
"They say they can't find them..." Yunho opened the package and placed it between them.
“Well, let them find them because we’re not there.”
“Yeah, Yu, but…” Yunho held out his hand to Hongjoong, who handed him the phone with a huff.
“No more work. They should have thought of that an hour ago when we were still there.” The taller man put the phone in his pocket and went back to his coffee.
“Tomorrow I’m going to tell them you were the one who wouldn’t let me answer.”
“Go explain what I was doing at this hour with your phone in my pocket.”
“I’m going to tell them you’re a toxic boyfriend.”
And suddenly Yunho weighed ten tons more.
“Tell them. Who’s going to believe you? I’m the good one of the two of us.”
“You’ll see when I request a transfer.”
They both laughed and continued talking about work, life, their families, and other random things they always came back to. They wandered around the floor and the sofa, moving according to their comfort level, or lack thereof. At some point, Hongjoong heated up the food, and they spent half the meal arguing about what to watch while they ate, before finally settling down to just listening to music, which continued playing softly as Hongjoong lit a cigarette leaning against the long, single window of his studio apartment.
The older man swore he hated the smell of cigarettes in his apartment and tried to blow the smoke outside, but the breeze didn't hear his unconscious pleas, and one of those wisps of smoke would eventually land on his face, barely noticeable enough that Hongjoong didn't try to blow it harder, but noticeable enough for Yunho to imagine the bitter taste on the older man's lips.
The building had a rooftop terrace. Worn out and two floors above the apartment, it offered nice views of the neighborhood and the highway in the distance. Hongjoong only went up there to hang sheets or things that wouldn't fit on the clothesline inside, but Yunho would occasionally ask him to come over for a few beers and look around as if he were trying to map the city from up there.
"Don't you want to go up?"
"Go ahead, I'll watch you from here." Hongjoong craned his neck, sticking his head out the window and looking up at the sky.
"If I had a terrace, I'd live up there."
“You have a balcony.”
“French.”
“It’s more than this.” He emphasizes his lean against the window.
“Actually, it’s the same thing, just with a railing on the outside.”
“You just don’t get the vibe, get creative…” Hongjoong goes to his coat rack and takes one of his long coats. “Just woke up, with a coffee in my hand and toast making in the kitchen, I light a cigarette…”
“And your toast would have burned by now.” Hongjoong glares at him from above but quickly takes a deep breath and gets back into character.
“…I light my first cigarette of the morning in my bathrobe and open the window. It’s cold, but the kind of cold that makes you take advantage of opening the windows to let in the breeze, it cools my chest and the coffee feels warmer… I rest my elbows on the windowsill and…”
“You jump.” Hongjoong nearly choked on his laughter and turned to face him, elbows propped up against the window.
"You wish." Hongjoong sighed and took another drag. "You don't understand the romance of the city."
Yunho stretched his arms upwards and closed his eyes, vividly imagining everything Hongjoong had said. He pictured himself leaving this house with its beige walls and traveling towards his own apartment on a gray autumn morning, the scent of toast and Hongjoong filling the air. He imagined himself in his bathrobe, walking from the bedroom to the living room, throwing open the window and breathing in the city's often damp, chilly air, almost savoring a bit of fresh air before filling his mouth with that bitter taste he was dying to try.
And for a moment, he pictured himself complaining about the cold and the older man's bare feet, taking the two cups of coffee and holding them to the window, letting the breeze guide them towards the older man's neck…
He opened his eyes resignedly and looked at the boy in front of him, who was smiling.
"Dreaming?"
"No, I was just imagining what you told me."
"Which of us was wearing the bathrobe?"
“I was, you weren’t using anything.” They both laughed, and Hongjoong rested his head on his arms, deciding to examine the cherry on his cigarette as if it were the only thing in the world.
Yunho, restless, got up and stood next to him, looking out the window at the view from the back of the building.
Hongjoong raised the cigarette slightly without looking and tried to bring it to the younger man’s lips. Offering.
“You know I don’t smoke.”
“I don’t know anything.” Hongjoong turned his head, looking at Yunho from the comfort of his arm.
“What a surprise.” Hongjoong waved the cigarette in front of him, and Yunho rolled his eyes. “Well, but keep your hand still…” Yunho took Hongjoong’s wrist and took a quick drag. He only smoked with alcohol in his hand, but he had to confess that the older man made him just as dizzy.
Hongjoong kept looking up at him, huddled in his sleeve, taking a drag in an awkward position to avoid burning the fabric, letting the smoke drift away.
"Have you thought about quitting smoking?"
"I wouldn't have an excuse to leave the office twice a day."
"Lock yourself in the bathroom."
"And who am I going to talk to in the bathroom? You're such a toxic person." They both laughed.
“Does it bother you?” Hongjoong looked at him for a second, as if considering it, but ended up shaking his head.
“I like my boys like this, a little crazy.”
“Crazy, me?”
“Yeah, now smash my phone over my head so I never try to be nice to any of those sluts again.” Hongjoong laughs and stands up straight.
“Try and I’ll throw your phone at the trashy building across the street.” Hongjoong looked in the direction Yunho was speaking and shook his head, laughing.
“I’ll behave, I’ll behave.”
Yunho chuckles. “I hope so, otherwise I’ll have to give my number to your sluts.” Hongjoong tries to pout, but his laughter prevents him, and Yunho weighs two tons more than this morning.
Yunho thinks, thinks about his parents, about Seonghwa and Mingi, even about the pervert Wooyoung and San, he thinks, and the imaginary images of Hongjoong waking up at home make his tongue dry.
His eyes dared to count Hongjoong's eyelashes, consciously ignoring that those eyes had to be looking at him in the same way. His gaze traveled down the bridge of his nose and ended at his closed-lip smile, capturing his fangs so perfectly that he was embarrassed to admit it; luckily, that could remain only in his mind.
He felt a fingernail gently scratch the skin of his arm, and when he looked up again, Hongjoong was looking at him calmly.
"Are you staying the night?"
"Whatever you prefer."
"I want you to stay the night."
"Then I'll stay."
Hongjoong took a step forward, and Yunho, instinctively, pressed his back against the window.
The shorter man's chin pressed against his chest as he looked up at him, and within his own freedom, he moved his face slightly, tickling his chest.
"I want to watch a movie tomorrow. Shall we?" He felt arms travel around his waist and anchor there, allowing his own arms to frame the body pressed against him.
"Of course, we'll get something nice to eat later." Hongjoong nodded, tickling him again.
The embrace remained silent, as if it didn't want to be noticed.
"Are you sleepy?" Hongjoong shook his head.
"Maybe a little cold." Hongjoong snuggled deeper into the arms that held him and lifted his chin to look at Yunho more closely. So close that his breath injected nicotine into the poor, frail man in front of him.
Yunho allowed himself to look at him again, connecting his vision to the warmth that enveloped his abdomen, and almost involuntarily smiled, not weighing a ton this time, perhaps even less than when he left his house earlier that day.
Then Hongjoong stretched the remaining inches and kissed him.
Short, casual, as if he had always been there. A peck.
"Are you staying the night?"
"I'm staying."
Hongjoong smiled at him.
"Then I'm going to the bathroom to shower. When I'm done, it's your turn."
Hongjoong put down his phone when he saw him approach the bed. As soon as he settled in, he snuggled up to him again, placing a kiss on his chin, almost testing the waters after submerging himself.
"What movie did you want to watch?"
"Whatever catches my eye tomorrow." Yunho laughed and nodded.
After a few breaths, some shifting from Hongjoong, and what Yunho couldn't distinguish between minutes and days, he took a deep breath and decided to speak, ignoring the underlying fear of being trapped in a bubble.
"Can I ask you something…"
"It just happened, I guess." Yunho nodded slowly, as if he didn't quite understand.
"Just like that?"
"How was it for you?"
And Yunho understood.
It just happened.
"Let's talk about it tomorrow, Yu." A kiss was all he needed to accept the decision and surrender to sleep with an extra warmth that was now his own.