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“Hey Jaehyun, have you ever done a body shot before?”

 

The words hit Jaehyun like a smack to the face— probably because Jaehyun actually does hit himself in the face. The papers for his college radio show he was pouring over come up like a reflex, bashing his nose and making Jaehyun jump in his chair. He turns and looks incredulously at the man stretched out on his bed.

 

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun asks, letting his chair spin to fully face Doyoung as he mindlessly scrolls on his phone.

 

“Yeah,” he says, tearing his round eyes from his screen to look at the younger man. “You know, taking a shot, licking salt off another person, then taking a wedge of lime from their mouth with yours,” he explains as calmly as if he were explaining the weather and not a sexually-infused way of consuming alcohol. Jaehyun drops the paperwork on his desk and pinches the bridge of his nose, scooting across the door floor on his chair until he reaches his bed.

 

“I know what it is,” he replies, still pinching his nose. He cracks one eye open to look at Doyoung, who is still scrolling mindlessly through social media while the screen casts a blue-toned hue across his sharp features. “Why are you asking me about it?”

 

Jaehyun watches as Doyoung rolls his eyes, a dramatic expression that would make Jaehyun want to knock his teeth in had they not been attached to such a pretty face. He watches Doyoung tap deliberately on his phone screen before turning it towards Jaehyun, the obnoxiously bright screen temporarily blinding him.

 

“Jesus, can’t you turn the brightness down on that thing?” Jaehyun groans, tilting his head back from the offending device. Doyoung snorts, lowering the phone enough to look over it with a blank expression.

 

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” he deadpans, dark eyes burning a hole into the other man. Jaehyun tries— and fails— to force down a laugh.

 

“Don’t feed me that when I saw you eyeing up the president of the Christian Club just last week,” he bites back, taking the phone from Doyoung’s hand and forcing his brain to make sense of the words FRATERNITY HALLOWEEN FRIGHTFEST in tacky serif font staring back at him. There’s little purple bats and superimposed candy corn on the flyer, against the backdrop of a slime green. Jaehyun fucking hates it.

 

“It’s been posted all over Instagram,” Doyoung says, not bothering to reply to Jaehyun’s remark. “Even that dorky freshman that tags along Johnny shared it.” Jaehyun squints, looking back up at the pair of round eyes staring back at him.

 

“Who, that Mark kid?” Jaehyun asks, tossing the phone back on the bed and watching Doyoung’s slender fingers pluck the device from the crevice of Jaehyun’s oversized duvet.

 

“The very one. You know Johnny throws the best parties, Yuta couldn’t get out of bed for two days after the last one.” Doyoung lets his finger rest against the power button on his phone, looking back up at Jaehyun before dramatically shutting it off. “We have to go.”

 

Jaehyun does know this, but he’s also experienced Yuta as a lab partner taking out a water bottle filled with vodka during a 9AM lecture. He wasn’t exactly a shining example of anything, unless his goal was alcohol poisoning by the time he was twenty-three. Jaehyun sighed and let his feet hit the floor, groaning at he stood up and rolled his shoulders back. Instead of replying, he wandered over to his closet and tugged on the pathetic denim jacket that he knew Doyoung hated. This was confirmed almost instantly by the sharp exhale behind him, and Jaehyun’s lips quipped into a smirk.

 

“Come on, need a coffee before I can do any more work,” he says, not looking back at Doyoung but instead fixing his tawny hair in the cheap mirror attached to his closet door. He can hear the man behind him tug on his shoes and shrug into his jacket but the room is otherwise silent. They both stay silent as they trudged down the hall and towards the elevator. It isn’t until Jaehyun is staring at his ripped-up, faded jacket in the reflection of the closing doors that he allows himself to answer Doyoung.

 

“I’ll think about it”.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

He does think about it, because soon Jaehyun finds himself pressed up against the stairwell of a frat house while bodies far too close to him are swaying to the music. The cheap beer bottle sits heavy in his hands and he already feels a headache coming on, especially when a couple walking up the stairs pushes him even further against the wall.

 

“Told you it’d be worth i,t” a smooth voice fills his ear, and Jaehyun doesn’t have to look over to see the smirk tugging at Doyoung’s lips. This is what they do; a strange dance between teasing and outright ignoring each other most of the time. Instead, he takes a swig of his beer and watches the movement of bodies on the makeshift dance floor.

 

“I’m still not convinced,” Jaehyun says, tilting his head back and looking through half-lidded eyes at Doyoung. He hopes it looks intimidating, but the look on Doyoung’s face says it isn’t.

 

“Don’t get brave just yet,” Doyoung replies, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the heavy bass music. “We still haven’t crossed the thing off my list.”

 

The thing is, Jaehyun is feeling brave about it. One of the things he loves to tease Doyoung about most is his complete inability to hide the reddening of his cheeks whenever he’s faced with a situation he isn’t ready for. Perhaps the most obvious factor is this: there are only two instances in which Jaehyun has ever been shirtless in front of him. Both times included Doyoung becoming so flushed Jaehyun could feel the heat radiating off his skin whenever his hands hovered over him. It’s why when he heard the words ‘body shot’, Jaehyun knew he was sold on the idea even before Doyoung had the chance to convince him.

 

“When’re we doing that, by the way?” Jaehyun asks lazily, his eyes dragging across the crowd like it’s a chore. From his peripheral vision, he can see Doyoung roll his eyes.

 

“Relax, the party’s just starting.” Doyoung’s wearing the same shirt he usually wore for his debate club meetings; white and grey stripes and pressed neatly to his body. Jaehyun thinks it’s the funniest and most grandpa-like thing he owns, and he makes sure to tell him every chance he gets. Tonight is different, however, a sense of smugness making Jaehyun feel brave. He sets down his beer on the railing of the staircase and turns to Doyoung, hands already at the waistband of his jeans. He has his shirt half-untucked before he can even blink.

 

“What the fuck,” Doyoung hisses, attempting to twist out of his grasp. Jaehyun just smirks and yanks him back into position by the stuffy shirt, tugging it into a more casual shape.

 

“There, you look less like an asshole now,” Jaehyun replies, looking Doyoung up and down with a satisfied grin. The look Doyoung shoots back at him is dirty, but he unbuttons his cuffs and begins to roll up his sleeves.

 

“I don’t know why you’re worried about how I look when you’ve probably been wearing that shirt for two days straight,” he snaps, finishing up his other sleeve and rolling his neck. Jaehyun doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so he picks up his beer from the railing and takes another swig.

 

“Seen the sentient Vodka Soda yet?” Jaehyun asks as he leans in, trying to be heard over the music. Doyoung scoffs, and he can feel his warm breath on his cheek.

 

“You’ll know when Yuta’s here,” he says, glancing over the dancefloor to the makeshift bar in the corner. “I bet his newest target is here, though.”

 

Yuta, among many things, was persistent when it came to something he wanted. Jaehyun actually witnessed the moment where Yuta trained his sights on the unsuspecting dance major, and he’s been teasing Yuta about it ever since. Something about the way the pretty boy with catlike eyes looked at Jaehyun’s friend like dirt under his nail never got old, and neither did teasing a surprisingly distraught Yuta. He always bounced from person to person, whoever holding his interest usually only did so for a few weeks, but Sicheng was different. It had been the better part of six months and Yuta still looked at the quiet man like he carved the moon out of stone just for him.

 

Sure enough, Jaehyun’s eyes soon landed on someone in the corner that held his cheap throwaway cup of vodka like it was made of crystal. Sicheng always looked like he was too regal for any room he was in, and that proved especially so as he was wedged between a beer pong table and a couple making out.

 

“There he is, poor thing,” Doyoung says, his voice sympathetic. “How long before Yuta bothers him?”



“I’d say about now,” Jaehyun replies, watching his friend slink through the crowd and appear at Sicheng’s side effortlessly. Even from across the room, Jaehyun could see the face of annoyance painting his delicate features as Yuta plucks the cup from his hands and takes a drink. Jaehyun hears Doyoung chuckle from beside him, so he tears his attention from the unconventional pair and takes in the man next to him.

 

“Shouldn’t you be bothering someone else? I’m sure there’s someone else you can bore about income disparity or whatever it was you debated today." The words come tumbling out of Jaehyun naturally, and he hides his smirk behind his beer bottle when Doyoung huffs.

 

“It was about the justice system and you—” he says, removing his hand from his jacket pocket and pushing his index finger into Jaehyun’s chest “—still owe me.” This makes his brow arch, wondering how far he can take this.

 

“I had no idea you were so determined to get me naked, Mr. Kim,” he replies innocently, lowering his bottle and giving Doyoung his best round eyes. The look Doyoung gives him in response would be terrifying had he not been at the end of it for the past few years.

 

“That’s not how body shots work,” he says, lowering his voice so nobody around them can pick up on their conversation. He glances around before continuing, a tint of desperation in his voice. “Just deal with it for thirty seconds and we never have to bring it up again.”

 

At this, Jaehyun sets his beer down and wraps one arm around Doyoung’s shoulders. The other snakes up the front of his jacket, clinging to the dark fabric. “You mean, you don’t want to lick salt off my ass?” he asks, voice sweet as honey. He bats his lashes for the full effect, and he swears Doyoung’s eyes get a shade darker.

 

Fuck you,” he spits out, twisting violently out of Jaehyun’s grasp. There’s less of a crowd now, likely because some poor Freshman got pushed in the pool and now a dozen or so people are flocking to the site. He grips Jaehyun’s arm and hauls him down the rest of the stairs and towards the kitchen. Jaehyun lets him, maneuvering his way through the half-drunken students and nodding at the friends he sees in the crowd.

 

The kitchen is significantly quieter than the rest of the fraternity house, and it’s gentle glow is thanks to the Christmas lights strung atop the cabinets. It’s empty, save for a collection of liquor bottles shoved on the counter and an open bag of chips. Doyoung finally lets go of Jaehyun’s arm and makes his way to the alcohol, grabbing two shot glasses from the cabinet above.

 

“Why are you so adamant about this?” Jaehyun asks, knowing he won’t receive an answer. He’s right, because Doyoung faces away from him and pours two shots. He fumbles around the countertop until his hands find the salt shaker. He sets the materials on the kitchen island and finally makes eye contact with Jaehyun, his face a look of determination.


“Okay, where do we do this?” Doyoung asks seriously, both hands curling around the granite overhang of the counter.

 

This, Jaehyun thinks, is what I’ve been waiting for.

 

With one swift movement, Jaehyun’s flannel shirt hits the floor. The cotton t-shirt underneath is peeled away, and he can’t hide the smirk that dances across his face when Doyoung’s cheeks tint pink. He sits on the kitchen island, making sure there’s enough space before he lays across the granite. The surface feels cool against his skin, and from this angle he can see Doyoung’s reddening face even more clearly. Jaehyun wants to say something witty, to tease him in some capacity. Instead, he says this:

 

“You need a lime, you know.”

 

Doyoung takes a few seconds to respond, shaking his head before looking down at Jaehyun. “What?”


“A lime, I have to hold a lime between my teeth and you have to take it from me after you lick the salt from my stomach,” Jaehyun says simply, and he feels five years added to his lifespan when he can practically see the wheels turn in Doyoung’s head.

 

“Right,” he says simply, turning to the makeshift bar in the corner and grabbing a pre-cut lime slice. It’s one of those shitty ones that adorn the bottles of beer scattered throughout the party. It’s perfect.

 

“Okay,” Jaehyun says, laying down and smoothing his palm against his abdomen. He can feel the muscles ripple beneath his skin, and he tries not to revel too much in the fact that a blushing Doyoung will soon be face-first in his abs. “Now pour the salt.”

 

It’s a strange moment, Doyoung the face of pure nerves while Jaehyun feels so giddy he worries he’ll vibrate right off the countertop. The salt tickles as it’s sprinkled on his skin, and Jaehyun can see the concentration on Doyoung’s face.

 

“You ready?” he asks, and Doyoung nods seriously. Jaehyun has a clear view of his neck as Doyoung tilts his head back to take the shot. He tries not to gasp at the cold swipe of tongue against his abdomen, but Jaehyun glances down and gets the visual of Doyoung in a compromising position. He’s holding Jaehyun’s hips to keep the salt from rolling off his body, and he lets his tongue lap up against his warming skin. He doesn’t have too long to contemplate this, because Doyoung’s head lifts up and he brings his lips to Jaehyun’s. For a moment, Jaehyun almost forgets about the lime between his lips until he tastes the residue when Doyoung takes it with his teeth. It’s intimate in a strange way, and Jaehyun is glad nobody is around to see.

 

He sits up just as Doyoung is taking the wilted lime slice out of his mouth, tossing it in the trashcan in the corner. Jaehyun thinks he should be cold, but his skin feels as if it’s on fire. He realizes when Doyoung looks back at him with a sharp grin and a thumbs-up, that he's in a lot more trouble than he initially realized.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

Jaehyun never really liked how asking for a favor left a bitter taste in his mouth, but luckily he had excellent blackmail material for the people who’s services he required most. It all came one night, when Jaehyun’s penchant for getting high and always having the best connections lead him to selling a couple of grams to loyal customers for a semester. It wasn’t a long-term plan, but Jaehyun knew enough people he trusted wouldn’t rat him out and more weed than even he knew what to do with.

 

He wasn’t exactly a people person, but Jaehyun was willing to meet up with whoever needed to get high during finals week, but he had one customer that was unique. For one, he never actually saw said customer. It was always some gangly kid with a permanent scowl that picked up his order, claiming the actual customer was too busy with work. Jaehyun would shrug and not pay any real attention to it. It was why one rainy night when the kid— Renjun, his name— texted him that he was held up with class and the actual guy was going to swing by and get his weekly eighth ounce, Jaehyun didn’t think twice before heading downstairs to the lobby of his dorm. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before the familiar beep of the keypad filled the room.

 

Now, there’s no real guidebook for tips on how to handle when your Resident Advisor walks in, soaking wet with his pretty boyfriend tucked under his arm, and you have to shove an eighth ounce down your pants. Jaehyun is pretty sure he could write one though, since he hadn’t moved that fast since he forgot he put his car in neutral on College Hill. It’s an awkward moment, with Kun staring him down like a criminal and Jaehyun sitting very much like a deer in the headlights on some cheap lobby couch.

 

“Uh,” Kun says lamely.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” Jaehyun asks, smooth as he can manage. He uncrosses his legs and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, trying to look as natural as possible. Judging from the look on Pretty Boyfriend’s face, he isn’t succeeding.

 

Kun looks down the hall, tilting his head ever so slightly until he sees that nobody is in earshot. Pretty Boyfriend tugs on the sleeves of his hoodie before fixing Kun’s jacket collar. “I’m supposed to meet someone here, name’s Jay?”

 

Holy shit, Jaehyun thinks. He tries to bite back the smirk threatening to tug at his lips.

 

“Yeah? I’m right here,” Jaehyun replies, standing up straight and cracking his neck. The look of sheer panic that Kun gives him only eggs him further. “Were you looking for your usual eighth ounce?”

 

“You,” Kun says, still dumbfounded. Pretty Boyfriend rubs his back reassuringly. “You could say that, yeah.”

 

“Is that the thing you shoved down your pants when we walked in?” Pretty Boyfriend asks, his sweet, soft voice contrasting such a blunt statement. Jaehyun beams at him.

 

“Sure is.”

 

Kun groans. “Please tell me you don’t always keep my weed there.”

 

“Only on Tuesdays, now if you’ll excuse me,” Jaehyun replies, reaching down and pulling out the bag. He tosses it to Kun, who catches it with a look of disgust. “I’ll take my payment now.”

 

“It’s still warm…” Kun says meekly, looking very much like he wants to melt into the floor. Pretty Boyfriend sighs and reaches into Kun’s back pocket. He produces a couple of bills, handing it over to Jaehyun with a sympathetic smile and mouthing the word ‘thanks’.

 

That bizarre night left the three of them with a unique understanding that Jaehyun wouldn’t report them to the Dean on the agreement that Kun would bend the rules for him when necessary. All Jungwoo had to do was look pretty, which was second nature to him. Which is why Jaehyun found himself knocking on Kun’s door at 11PM on a Thursday night.

 

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to be greeted by a very pretty boy with no pants.

 

“Jesus Woo, make it a little less obvious,” Jaehyun deadpans, taking in the red eyes and blissed-out expression painting his features. The shirt hanging off his shoulder is dangerously loose and dangerously short, even more so when he leans against the door for support.

 

“What do you need, handsome?” he coos, tilting his head so his burnt orange hair falls into his eyes. Jaehyun swears that in another lifetime he’d take one look at Jungwoo and fall head over heels.

 

“Looking for your handler,” Jaehyun replies, looking past Jungwoo to the room behind him. He doesn’t have to look far, because a body collides with Jungwoo and instantly pulls the half-dressed man behind his back. Jaehyun’s brow quips at the sight of Kun, sporting a bedhead and eyes far too wide to be anything but comical.

 

“You’re so lucky it was only Jaehyun,” Kun says over his shoulder, harsh words not matching the gentle tone he uses for Jungwoo. The latter replies by wrapping his arms around Kun’s hips from behind, resting his angular chin on his shoulder and peeking out at Jaehyun.

 

“Sorry,” he replies, his voice melodic and sweet. Jaehyun almost feels like it’s too intimate for him to be watching, so he glances down the hallway instead until Kun clears his throat.

 

“So, Jaehyun,” he says, his voice still scratchy from sleep. “What do you need?” Jaehyun notices that he makes an actual effort to look sober, clearly using eyedrops in case a resident stops by and an air freshener can on the edge of his desk. It’s endearing.

 

“Keep the door to the roof unlocked,” he says, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Kun’s brow furrows and he opens his mouth to ask, but Jaehyun stops him with his hand.

 

“Right, I don’t want to know. Just don’t kill anyone or make too much of a mess,” he says dryly, scrubbing his face with one hand and suppressing a yawn. Jungwoo buries his face in his neck and lets his hands drift lower until they’re dipping into the hem of Kun’s sweatpants.

 

Jaehyun knows his cue to leave when he sees it, so he gives them a half-nod and makes his way down the hall. His fingers are already typing out the message before he even rounds the corner.

 

Me

Roof is cleared, meet me at 10am

Doyoung

You better pay for breakfast

Me

Get fucked

∙∙∙∙∙

 

The thing about cheap beer is it tastes much better when it’s not yours.

 

That’s what Jaehyun tells himself anyway, sitting on the cool concrete of the rooftop with a six pack between his scuffed boots. He takes a swig of his own beer, letting the taste linger in his mouth as he stares out over the rest of campus. It’s late enough in the morning where there aren’t crowds of people rushing to get to their classes, but there’s still a fair amount of students crossing the lawns to get to where they need to be. There’s a certain smugness pooling in the pit of his stomach at the fact that he’s up here instead of hurrying across campus with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

 

The quiet click of the door to his left pulls Jaehyun out of his thoughts, and he glances over to see Doyoung walking over to him with his hands in his pockets. He’s dressed much more casually than his usual button-downs and chinos, the soft gray sweater hugging his arms closely.

 

Jaehyun looks at his feet, pulling a beer out of the pack and holding it out to Doyoung.

 

“It’s 10AM,” he replies, but he takes it anyway. He twists the top off and lets the cap clatter against the concrete. He takes a swig, making a face after a few moments. “Yuta has shitty taste in beer.”

 

“Yeah, he’s more of a hard liquor kind of guy,” Jaehyun agrees, staring out at the treeline and squinting slightly. He doesn’t have to look over to know Doyoung takes a seat next to him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, the two of them draining their bottles and enjoying the breeze as it ruffles their hair. It’s peaceful, Jaehyun decides, until a certain person opens his mouth.

 

“Oh! I, uh,” Doyoung says, placing the bottle on the roof and patting his pockets. He produces a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans. “I have my list—”


Jaehyun cuts him off with a surprised laugh. “You actually wrote it out?” The eyes that meet Jaehyun’s are impossibly round.

 

“I write everything down,” Doyoung says simply.

 

“Right,” Jaehyun replies, finishing the rest of his beer and setting the bottle off to the side. “Well, let’s see it.”

 

The crinkling of the paper as Doyoung unfolds it seems impossibly loud, and Jaehyun resists the urge not to laugh again. He’s soon met with impeccable penmanship and— yep, that’s a list that only Doyoung could make.

 

“See? I already crossed off the body shot,” Doyoung says proudly, pressing a slender finger to the paper. Sure enough, a solid black line is drawn through the script, and Jaehyun’s eyes travel down the page.

 

“Mmm, and today we’re ditching and day drinking,” he says, reading the item below it. He sees Doyoung nod, satisfied.

 

“I’ve never been drunk at breakfast before,” he says, but his brow furrows after a moment. “Well, not on a school day.”

 

Jaehyun laughs, opening up another beer. “You sound twelve.” He hears Doyoung huff next to him before a slender hand snakes up between his legs where the rest of the beers are. Jaehyun’s brow arches as he glances over at Doyoung. “Oh baby, you’re so bold today”.

 

The deadpan delivery does little to bother Doyoung, as he merely reaches out and uses the lip of Jaehyun’s beer to pry the cap off his own. “Since you’re being so nice to me today, I won’t point out that ugly fucking jacket.”

 

“It adds character,” Jaehyun snaps, reaching up to smooth the collar but getting his fingers caught in a hole in the denim. It’s distressed beyond the point of it merely being a fashion statement but it’s the jacket Jaehyun’s had the longest and he’ll be damned if someone with a silver tongue insult it.

 

“It makes you look like you slept in a dumpster,” Doyoung replies, swallowing down half his beer. Jaehyun wants to reply but he won’t give the other man the satisfaction, so he turns his attention to the view again.

 

They don’t talk much after that, they mostly stick to getting drunk and listening to music on Doyoung’s phone. Jaehyun laughs every time Doyoung makes a face at the bitter liquid, and the dirty look he gets in response only makes him burst into another laughing fit.

 

It’s nice, if not completely unconventional for them.

 

It’s certainly not conventional how they end up stumbling into the elevator a few hours later, sufficiently drunk and craving terrible breakfast food. It takes Doyoung ten minutes of scrolling through his phone to find a diner they both agree on, but eventually they make find their way to a diner with pastel blue booths and green walls. He orders the most nauseating, sugar-laden pancake plate on the menu. Jaehyun pays, of course.

 

Something about the way Doyoung's round eyes light up when he gets his food, about the whipped cream that sits in the corner of his mouth and Jaehyun teases him about, even the way he seems to stand up straighter when he walks and points out things in the windows of stores— all of it is so unconventional.

 

The acts themselves are completely normal, of course, but something shifts between them. The air feels lighter, they walk a little closer to each other, even the way Jaehyun looks at Doyoung as he stares up at the ornate buildings of downtown with a smile seems different.

 

Something changes, and Jaehyun won't admit that he's completely fucked.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

“Dude, you are so fucking whipped.”

 

“Fuck you,” Jaehyun hisses, twisting the to-go coffee cup between his hands. It's got a patterned of red and gold Christmas ornaments adorning a green background. Jaehyun half-wonders when the fuck the world decided November was a good time to start celebrating the birth of Christ.

 

He also wonders who drinks iced coffee in the middle of a cold front, but that does nothing to stop Yuta from sipping his iced latte in his own festive cup.

 

“You're willing to travel all over the city and do who-knows-what for a guy you fucked once that you claim to hate,” Yuta mumbles around the straw half in his mouth. His sunglasses are perched low on his nose and the hood of his sweatshirt is hiding what Jaehyun can only assume to be a terrible case of bedhead.

 

“I'm getting something out of it, too,” Jaehyun replies, taking a sip of his own drink. He isn't willing to admit what that thing is, especially since he's still trying to navigate how he feels about a certain thorn in his side.

 

“Well, whatever,” Yuta says, leaning back and pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands as a makeshift napkin, wiping the condensation off his cup. “I don't have time to fix your problems.”

 

Jaehyun scoffs, holding the coffee to his lips. “Yeah, you're a real shining example of ideal relationships. How long have you and that dance major been together again?” Yuta pauses mid-sip, looking over the top of his sunglasses with a glint in his eye.

 

“He’s very flexible,” he whispers scandalously, and Jaehyun tries not to throw his drink at him.

 

“Gross, I don’t even know why I’m friends with you,” Jaehyun groans. “And take off those sunglasses, you’re inside.”

 

Yuta leans in, grasping both of Jaehyun’s hands and looking into his eyes “I’m hungover and you would be nothing without your best friend.”

 

His voice is sincere, and it makes Jaehyun want to put out an application for some new friends.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

It’s never really been easy for Jaehyun to roll a joint, but it’s ten times harder when someone is staring you down.

 

“Could you not watch me like you’re a medical resident watching surgery?” Jaehyun snaps, looking up at Doyoung. He’s perched at the end of the bed, long arms draped across the railing and hovering over Jaehyun’s position at his desk.

 

“Not my fault you’re terrible at this,” Doyoung replies smoothly, letting his cheek rest against his forearm. Jaehyun hates how pretty he looks.

 

“I’m the one letting you smoke my weed, you should be nicer to me,” he grumbles, returning to the task at hand. He curses the fact that he never paid attention to Yuta’s technique, but eventually he produces an acceptable joint and he holds it up triumphantly.

 

“Wow, you innovator,” Doyoung says, pushing himself off the railing and sitting cross-legged on the bed. Jaehyun joins him after grabbing his lighter off the desk. He hands the joint to Doyoung, showing him the best way to grasp it between his fingers.

 

“Make sure you don’t get ash in my sheets, okay?” Jaehyun says mockingly, but the look he gives Doyoung is one with worry. Doyoung, in turn, rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah, wouldn’t want it to mix with the coffee stains and Dorito dust,” he replies, gesturing to the lighter in Jaehyun’s hand. “Now are you going to light me up?”

 

“So demanding,” Jaehyun mumbles, bringing up the blue and white tye-dye patterned lighter. He flicks it on, but holds it just out of reach of the blunt. Doyoung frowns, brows furrowing.

 

“What’s your problem?” he asks.

 

“You have to hold the smoke in for a few seconds,” Jaehyun explains. “You can’t just take a hit and immediately blow it out.”

 

The look Doyoung gives him is a bored one. “I know, I’ve snuck a spare cigarette or two in high school. Same principle.” Jaehyun sighs and lights him up, watching Doyoung’s eyes slide shut as he takes a drag. He holds it a moment, and when he exhales his body seems to release all tension, and he practically melts into Jaehyun’s duvet.

 

“That was great,” Doyoung says quietly, a trail of white smoke leaking out of the corner of his mouth. Jaehyun can’t help but laugh at this.

 

“Just wait until it actually hits,” he says, and plucks the joint from Doyoung’s hand. He takes a drag of his own, letting the smoke filter out his nose. Doyoung looks at him with a blissed-out expression.

 

“If I didn’t know how annoying you were, you’d almost look hot doing that,” Doyoung says, laughing a little at the end. Jaehyun arches his brow and takes another drag.

 

“Never pegged you to have a smoking kink,” he replies smoothly, leaning in Doyoung’s direction and tapping the ash off into the ashtray on his nightstand. When he turns back to Doyoung to pass the joint, he notices how quiet he’s gotten. Doyoung takes it gingerly, tilting it slightly to see the growing embers glow orange at the end.

 

“I want to try something, don’t get all pissy okay?” Doyoung says after a moment, looking up at Jaehyun with wide eyes.

 

“Now why would I do that?” Jaehyun asks, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. Doyoung doesn’t reply, just takes a deep drag and turns to carefully place the joint on the edge of the ashtray. Jaehyun is about to protest, but the fire in Doyoung’s eyes when he turns around makes his lips part in shock. Doyoung uses this to his advantage, pulling Jaehyun’s bottom lip down with his thumb and leaning forward. He drapes his other arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders just as he exhales into his mouth, lips a millimeter from Jaehyun’s.

 

The action makes Jaehyun gasp, and the smoke hitting his lungs is incredibly smooth. His hands find their way to Doyoung’s hips, holding them there as the last remnants of smoke filter between them. Doyoung chuckles, all breathy and light, and rests his forehead in the crook of Jaehyun’s neck.

 

“Thanks,” he says quietly, letting his warm breath tickle Jaehyun’s skin.

 

Through the haze of his growing inebriated state, Jaehyun can feel his hands on Doyoung’s hips like an anchor. He wonders if his skin has always been this warm.

 

He wonders if he’s playing with fire.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

Jaehyun is certain there’s some unspoken rule about avoiding the person dating the person in charge of whether or not you keep your single-occupancy dorm room or not. Jaehyun is also certain that he never really liked following rules anyway. That’s why he smoothly catches up with Jungwoo when he sees him walking across campus, falling in step with the orange-haired boy as he balances too many textbooks and a latte.

 

“Hey, let me help with those,” Jaehyun says, sliding the books out of Jungwoo’s grasp before he can protest. Jungwoo is left with his coffee and a furrowed brow, but he shrugs his messenger bag more firmly on his shoulder. The Snoopy keychain hanging off his bag jingles with the movement.

 

“Um, thank you,” he replies quietly, palming the coffee with two hands. Jaehyun glances over and notices the sleeves of his sweater are pulled over his hands partially. He almost hits himself with the Advanced Chemistry book on top of the pile in his hands when his thoughts drift to how Doyoung would look with sweater paws.

 

Jaehyun clears his throat.

 

“No problem! Are you meeting up with Kun, by any chance?” Jaehyun asks, pulling his best charming smile. It falls only slightly when Jungwoo shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink.

 

“No, he’s meeting with a professor during office hours. Did you need him for something?” Jungwoo’s eyes seem to sparkle at this, and Jaehyun knows he remembers the pot he delivered just the other day. Jaehyun gives him a sympathetic look.

 

“I don't have a delivery today, sorry. I just, uh,” he adjusts the books into one hand so he can run his fingers through his hair. “I was wondering if he had a recommendation.” Jungwoo tilts his head, but quickly shakes it when his bangs obscure his vision.

 

“Recommendation for what?” he asks innocently, taking another sip and peeking out over the to-go cup at Jaehyun. His lips quip into a smile when he sees Jaehyun fidget nervously.

 

“You guys, you know, go out and do stuff sometimes right?” he asks, and if Jaehyun was staring any harder at the pile in his hands he’d probably make a hole in the poor books. Jungwoo chuckles, and it sounds musical and comforting.

 

“Of course we do. Are you taking someone out?” he asks, and Jaehyun realizes how easy it would be to just tell Jungwoo. To have someone finally understand the strange turmoil in his mind. He sighs and squares his shoulders, looking up into Jungwoo’s pretty face.

 

“Yeah, actually. We haven’t really talked about it but I guess I want…” Jaehyun trails off, stopping in his tracks. Jungwoo follows suit, and the two of them stand in an inconspicuous part of a walkway in front of the Science building. Jaehyun looks around until he’s sure nobody’s around to listen. “I want him to have fun, try something new.” Jungwoo’s eyes sparkle even brighter, and Jaehyun wonders how it’s possible. He bounces on his heels a little, gripping the drink in his hands tightly.

 

“Oh, how fun! I know just the place,” the words tumble out of Jungwoo like he can’t get them out fast enough, and he swings his messenger bag in front of his body. He slides his nimble fingers in a side pocket and produces a flyer, all glossy and slightly creased. Jaehyun shifts the books so he can take it with one hand, and he takes a moment to process what’s on the paper.

 

“A club?” Jaehyun asks, brow arching.

 

“A club with a costume night,” Jungwoo replies, nodding enthusiastically. “The frat parties around here are too cool to actually have costumes, and I was bothering Kun about it because I had the perfect one for Halloween this year.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Jaehyun asks, grinning at him. He can picture Jungwoo in a little witch hat or a pair of cat ears—

 

“Yeah, but Kun said he didn’t want me to wear such a short skirt around those creeps,” Jungwoo says, and his entire body seems to slump in disappointment. Jaehyun almost drops the books on his own feet.

 

“Oh,” Jaehyun replies, clearing his throat. “I’m sure he had his reasons.” Jungwoo waves his words off, zipping his bag closed and taking his books back from a slightly stunned Jaehyun.

 

“Probably, but I bet you can take your date there and have a good time! Maybe I’ll even see you there.” The smile on Jungwoo’s face is bright and cheery, but his words make Jaehyun’s eyes go wide.

 

“No it’s not a date—” he says, but Jungwoo already has his phone out and he makes a panicked noise.

 

“Oh no, I’m going to be late for class! Sorry Jaehyun, I hope I helped. Maybe I’ll see you next weekend!” he says, doing his best to balance all his belongings as he half-jogs inside the building.

 

He leaves Jaehyun alone with his thoughts, and with the glossy flyer for some exclusive club shoved in his pocket.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake— you can’t wear that out.”

 

The words ring out in the hall the second Jaehyun’s door swings open, but he can’t process what Doyoung says on account of his outfit. His waist is impossibly small, highlighted in the thick black belt sitting taught against his stomach. Jaehyun didn’t even realize they made police officer costumes in such a skinny fit, but he isn’t complaining over how good Doyoung looks. His legs are practically a mile long, hip cocked out ever so slightly and making the handcuffs clipped to his belt buckle glint under the fluorescent lights of the dorm hallway. Even his sleeves are pushed up, showing off his forearms as they sit crossed against Doyoung’s chest.

 

“Guess you’ll have to arrest me, then,” Jaehyun says when he finally finds his voice, wearing a mask of amusement to hide the fact that he’s screaming in his own head. He reaches out and lets his fingers brush against the handcuffs. “These work?”

 

Doyoung jerks away from his touch, placing a hand over them while his eyes glint. “How about I handcuff you to a car door handle and you can find out?”

 

“Fine, asshole,” Jaehyun replies, closing the door behind him as he steps into the hallway. He starts to walk down the hall, but Doyoung’s hand on his arm stops him.

 

“We aren’t leaving until you tell me what you are,” he sneers, taking in the ripped denim jacket hanging off Jaehyun’s shoulders. Jaehyun looks down at his own outfit, as if he’s seeing himself for the first time. He picks at a stray piece of lint hanging off his flannel shirt, letting it fall next to his combat boot-clad foot.

 

“Kurt Cobain,” he says simply.

 

“Fuck you,” Doyoung hisses, flipping him off and marching down the hall. Jaehyun’s grateful Doyoung’s in front of him, merely so he can admire how tightly the polyester costume hugs his ass.

 

The taxi ride to the club is both painfully long and not long enough, especially considering the fact that all the scantily-clad people waiting in line make him want to immediately turn around and go home. The only thing keeping him there is Doyoung’s intrigued hum as they climb out, giving Jaehyun the chance to pay the fare and collect his nerves.

 

“I can’t believe you remembered clubbing is on my list,” Doyoung says, raising his voice and leaning in to be heard over the music leaking out of the club’s front door. The fake badge attached to his chest pocket catches the light, and Jaehyun has to blink a few times in order to get his thoughts together.

 

“I do what I can,” he replies smoothly, in effort to calm his racing heart. There’s something inherently different about tonight, the lively atmosphere bringing about a change in the way Doyoung holds himself. He’s swaying along to the music filtering outside the club, mouthing the words. Jaehyun can see how relaxed he is, and it brings him a sense of confidence.

 

“So, are you actually going to dance when we get inside or are you going to be your regular disappointing self?” Jaehyun asks, nudging him forward in line. They’re next to get in, and Doyoung looks over his shoulder to scowl at him.

 

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” he sneers, balling his hands into fists. It’s cute, almost.

 

“Then show me,” Jaehyun says, and the look that flashes across Doyoung’s face tells him he’s taking the challenge. The bouncer waves them in and without looking, Doyoung reaches behind him to grab the front of Jaehyun’s shirt. He pulls him inside, guiding him through the throngs of sweaty bodies until they find the bar. It’s lit up in red neon, the bar practically glowing like a lighthouse in the fog. Doyoung slides easily into a seat, crossing his legs and letting his elbows rest on the bar. He turns to look at Jaehyun with a questioning gaze, and for a second Jaehyun can see something darker swimming in his eyes.

 

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?” he asks, linking his hands together and resting his chin on top of them. Jaehyun stands there, trying to remember how to formulate words, but the way the bartender looks at Doyoung makes him snap out of it. He approaches the bar, slapping down his debit card and taking a seat next to Doyoung.

 

“Get whatever you want,” he says roughly, before turning to stare down the bartender. He’s a guy with far too many face piercings, and Jaehyun can only pray that Doyoung isn’t into that sort of thing. Doyoung leans in and says something to the man, but Jaehyun can’t hear over the music. It isn’t until a tall glass is placed in front of Doyoung that Jaehyun questions his cocktail choice.

 

“Do you want some? It’s good,” Doyoung asks, wide eyes trained on Jaehyun. He’s leaning forward, resting the straw against his bottom lip and Jaehyun swears he’s practically pouting.

 

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of, uh...” Jaehyun replies, gesturing vaguely towards the lime garnish hanging off the side of the glass.

 

“Singapore Sling,” Doyoung offers, taking another sip. Jaehyun’s head spins.

 

“What the fuck is a Singapore Sling?” he asks, but before Doyoung can reply the bartender places two rounds of shots in between them.

 

“On the house,” the man says, looking at both of them. Jaehyun can feel his jaw tense when his gaze lingers on Doyoung for a moment too long. He walks away, and Jaehyun slams the first shot. The burning in his throat distracts him for a minute, and when he comes back to reality he notices Doyoung is almost done with his drink.

 

“What’s in that anyway? Maybe you should slow down,” Jaehyun insists, trying to take the glass from Doyoung. The shot must have hit him harder than he thought, because Doyoung dodges his hand easily.

 

“Don’t worry about me, just get ready to dance,” he says, draining his glass easily. He leans in towards Jaehyun to pull two of the shots towards him, and Jaehyun can smell the fruity alcohol on his breath. He downs the second shot, feeling the hot burn all the way to his feet. He lets the fire settle under his skin as he watches Doyoung throw his head back, downing the shots without flinching.

 

Jaehyun has the feeling that tonight is going to be different.

 

That feeling pools in the pit of his stomach as Doyoung looks at him with half-lidded eyes, gleaming like a predator. It creeps up his spine when his slender hand pulls Jaehyun off the barstool and onto the dancefloor. It’s sitting on Jaehyun’s chest when Doyoung turns around and pulls him flat against his back, swaying his hips to the beat. Jaehyun has to anchor his hands on Doyoung’s hips in order to process that this is happening, that the same man that berated him for not tucking in his shirt for a school presentation was grinding down on his dick in some dimly-lit club.

 

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Jaehyun shouts over the music, leaning into the shell of Doyoung’s ear so he can be heard. Doyoung responds by leaning his head back on Jaehyun’s shoulders, flashing a dangerous smirk before a particularly deadly roll of his hips. Now, Jaehyun is a proud man, but he’s not too proud to admit a groan slipped passed his lips at the friction, and he finds himself digging his fingers hard enough into Doyoung’s hips to bruise.

 

The beat is dirty and the dancing is even dirtier, not that Jaehyun can really focus on the couples around him. His vision is currently occupied by a certain dark-haired man singing along to the music and moving to the beat. It isn’t until the music switches to something a little lighter that Doyoung turns in Jaehyun’s grasp. He practically whimpers at the loss of friction, but Doyoung wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s neck and threads one of his hands into his hair.

 

“I told you I could have a little fun,” Doyoung says, voice hoarse and sounding suspiciously fucked-out. His hair is tousled and even in the dark room Jaehyun can make out a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks. He wants to take him to the bathroom and bend him over a sink, but instead he says this:

 

“You’re one hell of a dancer,” Jaehyun mutters, hands sliding up to Doyoung’s waist and pulling him closer. The look Doyoung gives him is enough to tell him he’s more sober and in control than he lets on.

 

“Guess tonight’s given me the chance to be someone new,” Doyoung replies, the pretty smile flashing across his face contrasting heavily with the way his hands slide down and into Jaehyun’s pockets, promptly cupping his ass.

 

If Jaehyun wasn’t half-leaning into Doyoung, he likely would have fallen over and died right there on the dancefloor.

 

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly, holding onto Doyoung’s hips like a lifeline as he starts grinding to the music again. “Maybe I’m not feeling like myself either.”

 

Doyoung’s brow arches, and God, he’s so pretty. ‘Well then who are you, Mr. Cobain?”

 

At this point, Jaehyun knows no combination of words strung together in a witty comeback will save him from what he’s about to do. It’s why when he leans in, he hesitates a millimeter before Doyoung’s lips, it’s a silent ask for permission. Doyoung closes the gap, kissing him feverishly. Jaehyun can taste cherries and pineapple and Doyoung, all eager and willing. It’s intoxicating, the way Doyoung takes his bottom lip ever so slightly, the way he gasps when Jaehyun leans down to lick a stripe down his neck.

 

In a moment of clarity, Jaehyun pulls Doyoung off the dance floor before they can get kicked out for public indecency. By the grace of some deity, there’s a cab pulled up to the curb. Jaehyun shoves the fare amount into the driver’s hand, with an extra twenty so he minds his fucking business. Doyoung practically crawls into the backseat, pulling Jaehyun in by his shirt. Their kisses are more teeth than anything else, the rush of the moment making the two of them clumsy. Jaehyun finds a particular spot just under Doyoung’s ear that makes him gasp with pleasure and thread his fingers into Jaehyun’s hair. His hands are pulling Doyoung closer, pressing him against his chest and half into his lap as the driver makes their way back to the dorms.

 

Doyoung pulls away for air, and the blissed-out expression on his face is enough for Jaehyun to want to devour him. He makes a mental note to make a ‘fuck the police’ joke when they’re not half hard and desperate.

 

The cab finally pulls up to campus, and Jaehyun is eternally grateful that most people are still out and there’s nobody to see them crawl half-clothed out of a cab. Doyoung leans heavily against Jaehyun, and he can feel the heat radiating off him. He doesn’t even bother with the elevator, instead pulling Doyoung up the flight of stairs and down the hall to his room. Jaehyun barely has the door closed when Doyoung’s lips are on his neck, pushing up his shirt with slender hands.

 

“Needy, aren’t we?” Jaehyun teases, but it falls flat with how breathless he sounds.

 

“Fuck off, take this stupid fucking jacket off,” Doyoung mumbles into his skin, kissing down to Jaehyun’s collarbone and nibbling at the skin there.

 

“I know denim turns you on,” Jaehyun says, peeling off his jacket and flannel, while Doyoung helps him strip off his white tee. Doyoung kisses him hard enough to bruise, running his hands down the flat plane of Jaehyun’s stomach and clumsily trying to undo his belt. Jaehyun breaks off the kiss, catching his breath.

 

“You too,” he says, and Doyoung’s eyes grow wide for a moment before he nods, hastily untucking his shirt and fumbling with the buttons. Jaehyun’s already stripped down to his boxers by the time Doyoung gets his shirt off, and he groans as he kisses him again. Reaching down, he palms Doyoung through the cheap polyester pants and smiles into the kiss when he whines.

 

“Help me,” Doyoung pleads, and Jaehyun undoes his belt and pants easily. If he wasn’t so preoccupied, Jaehyun would make a comment about the sleek, clearly sexy underwear Doyoung has underneath. Instead, he hoists him up by his ass and practically throws him on his bed, straddling him. The way Doyoung looks sprawled out against Jaehyun’s sheets is something to write poetry about, but for now Jaehyun buries his face in his neck and alternates between kissing and biting. His hand travels down to push down his underwear, stroking him achingly slow. Doyoung makes a noise of pleasure, and his hand travels down to guide Jaehyun.

 

“You,” Jaehyun mumbles in between kisses “are dangerous.

 

“You’re the one with my handcuffs hanging off your headboard,” Doyoung says, words trailing off as Jaehyun hits a particularly sensitive spot. He whines and pushes his head into the mattress, arching up to meet Jaehyun’s touch.

 

“Get these off,” Doyoung urges, palming helplessly at Jaehyun’s boxers. It’s all Jaehyun needs, and soon he’s stripped down, letting Doyoung crawl into his lap eagerly. It’s both achingly sweet and like fire, igniting something lethal inside of him as he listens to the sounds Doyoung makes. Jaehyun feels both powerful and at Doyoung’s mercy, wanting to please him in any way he wants. Please he does, fucking him until he’s practically putty in his hands. He melts into the kisses afterwards, molding to Jaehyun’s shape like he was always meant to be there.

 

Maybe he was, Jaehyun thinks as he looks down at Doyoung who’s nodding off to sleep against his chest. His mind flashes back to what seems like a lifetime ago, back to a night when they first did this. It had none of the warmth, none of the genuine passion of tonight, and something about it makes Jaehyun smile and place a kiss on top of Doyoung’s head. Sleep comes easy that night, with the pressure of someone against his own skin.

 

What isn’t easy, however, is waking in the bitter cold. What isn’t easy is waking up utterly alone, with only the indent of a body next to Jaehyun being his only sign that the night before happened at all.

 

∙∙∙∙∙

 

Doyoung’s dorm is impossibly dark, like he’s trying to will away any semblance of the sun with how tightly he draws the curtains. Jaehyun can barely see at first, stumbling around until his eyes adjust to the room. He can make out a lump beneath the covers of Doyoung’s bed, and he crouches down.

 

“Come on, you’re the one who told me to come over here,” Jaehyun says quietly, worried his voice might break whatever atmosphere is between him and Doyoung will yell at him to get out of his room, and subsequently, his life. The subdued sigh from beneath the covers is the only sign Jaehyun has that Doyoung isn’t asleep.

 

“I know,” a voice comes out from the mass, and it sounds impossibly small. He says nothing else, and Jaehyun rests his head against the side of Doyoung’s bed.

 

“Why did you leave?” he asks, and it sounds so raw and broken he wants to shove it back down his throat and lock it up in his heart. Jaehyun can make out a faint rustling from beneath the duvet, but no response comes.

 

It feels like a dagger in Jaehyun’s heart. The minutes tick by.

 

“Okay,” Jaehyun says simply, standing up and stretching his legs. “I guess I’ll just… go.” By now the sun is high in the sky, and a fragment of it’s rays peek through the curtains. It’s enough to illuminate the arm that reaches out desperately from beneath the covers, grasping the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt desperately. He can make out the familiar hue of his sweatshirt, the lavender fabric looking pristine in the sun.

 

“Wait,” Doyoung croaks. “I have one more thing on my list.” Jaehyun wants to tear his hair out. That list, that stupid fucking list is the reason he’s here now trying to patch up his heart. He wants to turn and yell at Doyoung, to tell him how selfish and cruel he’s being, to toy with his heart like this—

 

But the words fall short when he turns and sees Doyoung. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, duvet pooled around his waist. He’s wearing Jaehyun’s sweatshirt, the soft purple material contrasting with his messy dark hair. He looks how Jaehyun feels, all broken and raw.

 

In his hands, is a creased and worn piece of paper.

 

“What’s on your list?” Jaehyun finds himself asking quietly, and Doyoung looks down at it and slowly unfolds it. Even in the miniscule amount of light, Jaehyun can see the dozen or so things crossed off, black ink leaking to the back of the page. There’s one last thing on the list, written smaller than everything else.

 

“A confession,” Doyoung says after a moment, looking at the paper and tracing the words with his fingers. Something about the way he stares down at the list makes Jaehyun breathless for a moment.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks, voice soft. The energy between them feels so, so intimate. Doyoung finally looks up at him.

 

“I asked you to do these things with me,” Doyoung says, looking into Jaehyun’s eyes with a surprising amount of confidence “because I wanted for you to see me do them. I wanted you to know I wasn’t just some stuck-up loser that you painted me as in your head.”

 

The words hit Jaehyun hard, and he realizes for the first time how lonely Doyoung looks. There’s a certain way he holds himself, like there’s a weight on his shoulders and a feeling he can’t describe behind his eyes. Jaehyun doesn’t know how to respond, so he asks a simple question.

 

“Why?”

 

Doyoung makes a noise, between a sigh and a laugh. “I’m sorry for leaving that night. And I’m sorry for leaving this morning. But you,” he starts, putting the list aside “you weren’t meant to be with someone like me. You’re charming and fun and you actually act your age and not like some middle-aged man that’s never lived a day in his life—”

 

His words cut off when Jaehyun steps forward, cupping Doyoung’s face in his hands and thumbing across his cheekbones.

 

“I just wanted you to like me, to seem like I fit,” Doyoung whispers, looking up at Jaehyun like he has has his soul bared to him. Perhaps he did.

 

“Of course you fit”, Jaehyun whispers, leaning down to meet Doyoung’s eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you are. You don’t have to do all this stupid shit to prove anything to me, I’m just,” he says, this time louder “I’m just happy you’re with me. I feel like you’re filling in all the gaps in my life.”

 

Doyoung takes a minute to process the words, but when he does the laugh that escapes him is like music. “I guess I didn’t have to drag you all over the city, then," he says, leaning into Jaehyun’s touch. Jaehyun responds by pressing his thumb to Doyoung’s bottom lip.

 

“No, but I’m glad you did,” he says easily, “I’ve been figuring out how to ask you out for months.”

 

The room is dark but it’s warm as the two of them laugh, eventually smiling into kisses that are achingly sweet. It isn’t until Jaehyun is laying back against the headboard, with Doyoung pressed against his chest, that he speaks again.

 

“It looks like you got a head start on the whole ‘stealing your boyfriend’s clothes’ thing,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips as he plays with the strings of the hoodie. Doyoung pouts, looking up at him with a glare.

 

“It was freezing in your room and your clothes are so fucking ugly,” he whines, and Jaehyun lets his head fall back as he laughs.

 

“Yeah, I get that a lot from a certain person,” he replies, pulling Doyoung closer and kissing the top of his head. “What do you say we act like proper human beings and I’ll take you out for lunch?”

 

Doyoung smiles, smoothing his hand out against Jaehyun’s chest. “I’d like that.”

 

“Great, I’ll grab my jacket,” Jaehyun replies, a mischievous glint in his eye.

 

“Not if I fucking burn it first.” The way the words tumble out of Doyoung just before he presses a sweet kiss to Jaehyun’s lips is so perfect, so them, that Jaehyun finds himself not minding the possible loss of his beloved jacket— the fire that ignites inside of him whenever Doyoung smiles or kisses him is enough to keep him warm, anyway.