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“You never answered the question,” K mused, comfortably shoulder-to-shoulder with Fuma on the couch a couple of days later.
“Mm?” Fuma said without looking up from his Switch.
K didn’t put his book down either, but he hadn’t really been processing any of the words for the last few minutes, since the thought had occurred to him. “During the live. I asked how you’d feel if a member kissed you like I kissed Taki, and you said there might be a bloodbath, but I also asked it if it would make a difference which member, and you didn’t answer that.”
“Mmmmm,” Fuma said.
There was a familiar strain in his voice: he was in the middle of something time-sensitive in his game and couldn’t put it down, but also did want to respond, and didn’t have enough mental bandwidth to do both at once.
“Take your time,” K said, bumping their calves together and returning to his book. Or pretending to, really, since he still couldn’t parse a single sentence. His mind had really sunk its teeth into that thought and wouldn’t let it go until he knew.
A few minutes later, Fuma exhaled, hit a couple of buttons, and set the console down. As soon as K followed suit with his book, Fuma took his nearer hand and held it between both of his own, gently and firmly.
Though K had never found eye contact very difficult, for some reason his eyes were glued to their hands, and he couldn’t unstick them.
“Yes, K-hyung,” said Fuma. “Of course it would make a difference.”
“I’m asking because— well. Uh.” K’s eyes were still stuck. This was stupid. What was he, twelve?
Fuma laughed and squeezed his hand. “I know why you’re asking.”
K squirmed a little, almost but not quite regretting having asked. “So…?”
Fuma brought K’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, then turned it over before K could react and kissed the spot where his palm became his wrist, too.
“Wh—”
“You can if you want,” Fuma murmured, still holding K’s hand up perilously close to his mouth as if he might be about to kiss it some more. “But fair warning: if you do, I might retaliate. In kind. With interest.”
K’s mind helpfully drew up some visual extrapolation for him as to what that might mean and what it might look like, and he went red from neck to hairline without making a sound. He didn’t try to retrieve his hand. He didn’t want it back. He wanted it to stay exactly where it was for as long as possible.
To communicate that, as best he could think to without actually saying so, he tightened his fingers around Fuma’s and leaned a little harder into his shoulder.
Fuma understood just fine, as always. He kissed the heel of K’s palm again, then a little further up the wrist, on the thin skin over his veins.
“I’m going to do it,” K breathed, tingling and tipsy on the thrill. “Don’t know when. Whenever it feels right, I guess. But I’m definitely going to, sooner or later.”
“Consider me warned,” Fuma said, grinning. He let go of K’s hand with one of his so he could put around K’s shoulders and pull him closer. “Just consider yourself warned, too. I will one-up you.”
“Got it,” K said faintly, sinking into the warmth of Fuma’s side, book entirely forgotten. “Warned. Or promised? Was that a promise?”
“If you want it to be, sure,” Fuma said softly.
K couldn’t see his face anymore, with the top of his head tucked almost all the way under Fuma’s chin, but he didn’t really need to. He’d seen the expression Fuma was making a hundred times. He had it memorized, so he could look at it whenever he closed his eyes to sleep at night, so that he could let go of the world and drift away into those dark, warm depths where he’d be safe.
The conversation was over. The point needed no further belabouring. Fuma picked up his console without dislodging K. In the moment before he turned it back on, he tilted his face down to kiss the peak of K’s forehead through his hair.
Fumbling for his book, K let himself slide down Fuma’s side to lie face-up in his lap before bringing it up.
He still wasn’t actually going to be able to read it. His head was full of a thousand possibilities for how it could go. What kind of opportunities might present themselves, and where, and what he’d do with them, and what Fuma would do in response.
It wasn’t a very good book, anyway.
—