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i. A stark realisation
Jay learns early on in their relationship—a few months after they officially became boyfriends—that dating your best friend doesn't change much between them. Both him and Jake are still best friends underneath the relationship label: two young men who were involved in too much of each other's lives despite meeting only a handful of years ago, who still elbowed each other when they compete in Mario Kart and stole food off each other's plates and cringe at their failed jokes, except this time they kiss when no one's looking and cuddle under their blanket when it's cold and shower together whenever they can to "save on water bills."
(That's an excuse. Jake just loves being all over him, clothed or not, and Jay finds that he likes being his boyfriend's teddy twenty-four-seven.)
Jake buys him a Kiss the Chef apron from a clearance sale and commences a daily ritual of kissing his cheek whenever his boyfriend is cooking; in turn, Jay buys him a football when Jake's old one fell apart and they play it by the Han river even though Jay could never pass a ball to save his life. Jake eats his favourite chocolate chip cookies right under his nose; Jay drinks his boba tea that Jake saved for the next day; they argue over whose turn it is to turn off the night light, whether they should buy a vinyl record player now or later and whether they should adopt a rabbit since their landlord doesn't like loud pets.
(It took one look at estimated vet costs for them to give up on the idea of pets at all. But oh well. They'll work hard enough to afford a pet one day and they might not have to negotiate getting a dog by then. Jake looks forward to that.)
So, yeah, there isn't much of a difference in their relationship that warrants a proper friends-to-lovers arc. Without much celebration, their relationship turns a year old, then two, and then it feels like life will always continue with both of them this way: tangled in each other's arms every morning, hair askew and faces imprinted by their sheets from a deep rest, Jake's lips open to puff out small breaths in his sleep, Jay's chest rising up and down in a slow, steady rhythm with lazy morning rays streaming through their curtains, and neither of them would've asked for anything better.
This morning, however...
Warm steam floods out into the bedroom as Jake finishes up his turn in the shower. The clock shows it's well past eight a.m., which is late for them on a weekday but early for them on a weekend, and Jay takes his time tidying up their room while his boyfriend changes into a fresh set of clothes.
When Jake passes by their vanity mirror so he can start tidying their bed, he startles at his reflection in the mirror, glances down at his shirt, and groans. "What the hell."
"Huh?" Jay looks up from putting their folded laundry into the wardrobe. "What's up?"
"I'm wearing your shirt," his boyfriend states. From the mirror, Jay can see it's one of his older shirts from high school with a faded graffiti print at the front, the shoulders too tight too fit either of them now, and the hem hanging just above the waistband of Jake's loose shorts. He looks like a kid wearing clothes he outgrew.
"Ew," Jake says at the same time his boyfriend stifles a smile to himself. "This is gay."
Jay raises a brow. "What do you mean? Homies can share clothes. It's not the first time you've done that anyway."
"Yeah, but those are like...hoodies and shit. Not home wear."
"What's the difference?"
"It's more intimate. Your home wear is private and no one else gets to see you like that. It's like I'm wearing a piece of you."
"Because you are. We've established that it's my shirt." He's not even going to question Jake at this point. They've had plenty of useless conversations like this before because Jake just likes them interacting—physical, verbal, anything to fill the space in between them, so there's no use coming up with logic or defending a stance. It's nice, in a way, to be with each other in any form they can, even if it includes playing along with his absurd logic.
However, Jay does wonder what planted the seed for Jake to strike up this conversation in the first place.
"Gross," Jake concludes, puffing up the pillows after they've been returned to their place on top of a neat and tidy bed. The room feels much bigger now that the mess was gone. "That's gay."
"You are gay." This time, a little laugh escapes from Jay, and the door to their wardrobe creaks as he closes it. "Jake, you're a homosexual."
"No I'm not. I like girls too."
"Okay, but we're dating."
"But that doesn't mean I'm gay." Even as he says that, Jake approaches him from behind on quiet, unassuming footsteps so he can crawl his fingers across Jay's waist until they're across his torso, pull him into a loose back hug so their bodies are flush together. Jay, accustomed to his moves, simply melts into the touch. "I'm just confused."
"So you've been figuring it out this entire time?" Even as he says that, Jay places his hands on top of his boyfriend's and waddles them out of the room in the direction of the kitchen. "Two years and four months of us dating," he continues, amusement dripping into his voice, "and six months of cohabitation, all to figure out if you're gay or not."
"I'm not," answers Jake. They waddle down the entire corridor, dim without much light filtering through, then they step into the kitchen adjoining the living area and Jay opens the fridge to check what ingtedients remained. There isn't much in the fridge: some milk left in the carton, a handful of eggs, leftover vegetables from their weekly groceries and a tupperware of kimchi that his mother sent them. Enough to make breakfast and a light lunch, he supposes, but they'll have to go shopping today lest they run out.
Jake breaks apart from his boyfriend to stand beside him, ready to help him make breakfast, but one of his hands linger on Jay's waist still. "I don't think I'm gay, but I definitely like you."
"Good." Before he decides what menu to make, Jay closes the fridge door and kisses his boyfriend softly on the lips. "I'd be worried if you didn't."
(Even though Jake started this entire conversation, he finds himself defeated by the kiss. All thoughts of being a helpful kitchen assistant were thrown out the window as he chooses to be Jay's koala instead, content with clinging onto his shoulder or arms and nuzzle into his warmth until breakfast was served.)
ii. Spoiled in care
Silence.
Jake pulls out his earphones when a bolt of realisation hits him after he finishes folding the last of their dry laundry, towers of assorted clothes lined on their couch and coffee table as a result of his work, an empty laundry basket sitting on the floor beside his knees.
Why was it so silent?
Their apartment was too quiet for a Sunday noon, when Jay would normally pitter-patter to the kitchen after they complete their chores so he can try new recipes saved for their leisure time. Their apartment was too calm for two young men who playfully fight as a love language, who belt out cheesy love songs from one end to the other for a laugh. Their apartment was too tranquil when their morning was filled with bickering: Jay swatting his hands away from spooning so he could yank the blanket to himself, then Jake rolling on top of his boyfriend just to annoy him, and hisses of "you're so annoying!" and "it's fun to tease you when you're annoyed," and "give up the damn blanket Jake, I'm shivering," and "I'll kiss the cold out of you," exchanged amidst soft pillows and a thick comforter in the early A.M.
Neither of them were particular about rising early on their days off, but neither of them were fond of wasting hours away too. If Jay didn't feel like cooking, he would've joined Jake in the living room and turned on the TV, or help fold the laundry beside him on the couch, or read a book chosen from his weekly visits to the library. Radio silence in their home was ironically unheard of, and a droplet of worry trickles down Jake's back as he steps over the piles of clothes on the carpet to head to their bedroom.
Across the living room, two doors down the short hallway—past the study-slash-storage room first, then the common bathroom in the middle, and then the shared bedroom at the far end. Light filters through the open doorways of the bathroom and study room where dust dances in its rays, and his socked feet glides over the wooden paneling floors as he saunters over the short distance.
Their bedroom door opens without a sound. He peeks through the space in between. "Jay? You up?"
To his surprise, the bedroom remained as it had been when he got up this morning. Not a single item had moved from their place—his glasses were still on the study table, their shared Switch left on the nightstand, and Jay's windbreaker crumpled on the ground just shy of their clothes rack. Jake frowns. Normally Jay would tidy up the room after he wakes up.
Then he notices the human-shaped mound underneath the blanket on the bed, rising up and down in time to a slow, steady breathing rhythm, and ahs in understanding.
How unusual. Approaching it with socked feet, Jake presses a palm on the edge of the bed and leans over the sleeping body. "Jay? Are you still asleep?"
"Mmf," comes the muffled answer. It sounds suspiciously raspy. "Can't get up."
"What's wrong?"
" 'm sick."
Concern floods his body in a second. "What happened?" Jake asks, fingers gripping on the comforter as if asking for permission to remove it. "Can I see you?"
With a huff, Jay pulls down the quilt in a sluggish movement. Heavy eyes blink up at him, dazed from the bright light, and his lips were turned into a frown. "Feel cold," he murmurs, and yes, his voice was definitely raspy. "Like a fever."
"I'll get you water in a bit," his boyfriend answers, then places the back of his hand on Jay's forehead. "Oh man, you're burning up," Jake grimaces as his hand slides away. "Hotter than expected."
"It's your fault," Jay croaks. He shuffles a little so the top of his head disappears underneath the blanket, too, and Jake can't tell if he's faking a raspy voice to rack up pity points or if his throat is actually that bad. "I told you to stop hogging the blanket."
A pang of guilt hits Jake in the chest as he recalls their playful fight earlier that morning. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely. Placing his hands on top of the mound of blanket, he leans over and kisses whatever part of Jay's head he can reach. "I'll take care of you while you're sick, so can you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive you for. I just fell sick," comes the answer, but both of them can hear the happy note in Jay's voice.
"Okay." Sliding off the edge of the bed, Jake lands on the floor with socked feet. "I'll go make some soup for you, so you just stay warm. Do you need anything else? Maybe another jacket?"
The mound underneath the blanket shifts a bit. "I wanted you to stay..."
He ignores the burst of affection in his chest. Jay was definitely racking pity points now and he didn't want to admit that it worked. "But you need to eat." Jake takes a step towards the door. "I'll be quick. Promise. Just...go sleep or something, okay?"
"Okay." The bed creaks as Jay turns on his side. "But come back quick," he adds right as his boyfriend's out the door. "I don't want to be alone."
His boyfriend rolls his eyes at that, then disappears into the kitchen outside.
The soup trembles slightly as Jake holds up a spoon towards his boyfriend, who had steadied himself to a sitting position so he could be fed. With one window slightly open and the bedroom door left unclosed so they could air it out, the room felt less stuffy than before, and Jay's temperature had simmered down by a few degrees enough for him to regain some mobility. Their items were still scattered and askew, but it could be cleaned up with an extra pair of hands once Jay recovers, so Jake focuses on the bowl of chicken soup on his lap and the spoon he's feeding to his boyfriend instead.
"Steady on." Jake tips the soup spoon to Jay's mouth. "Open up?"
Jay obeys, opening up enough for the soup to spill inside. Jake's cooking wasn't particularly good or anything—chicken soup was chicken soup as far as both of them were concerned, nothing but a simple dish known for its soothing warmth and clearing away congested nasal passages—but the way his insides heated up from the first sip has him melting. In affection or physical warmth or both, he doesn't know, but he does know he loves being taken care of like this, all bundled up and spoon fed and receiving undivided attention from his lover. Jay smacks his lips in appreciation, leans forward towards the bowl and opens his mouth again. "More?"
His boyfriend grins. "You like it?"
Another spoonful goes down the drain. "It's good," he answers with a definitive nod. "Yummy."
"Good to hear." Another spoonful, and another, and another.
After the bowl is cleared and left in the sink to be washed later, Jay sits against the headboard in a sleepy daze while his boyfriend cleans up what he can. The windbreaker is hung on the rack. The Switch is restored to the first level of the dresser beneath a pile of letters, safe from any prying eyes. Jake's glasses were returned to the wall shelf above the study desk where they kept accessories—reading glasses and sunglasses, one or two caps that didn't fit inside the wardrobe, and a hand mannequin wearing all their rings for safety. A gust of wind stronger than the previous mild breeze blows through the room.
Jay shivers, his hands crossed over his chest to keep himself warm. "Why'd you open the window? I'm c-cold."
"To air out the room. Do you want me to close it?"
"Yeah."
The moment Jake closes the window and locks it, Jay reaches out towards him with grabby hands across the room, the comforter sliding off his shoulders with the gesture. "Now come here," his boyfriend demands, brows furrowed together as if projecting the force of his pout.
Jake sputters out a chuckle, far too endeared to even hide it as he makes his way back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Okay. I'm here. What do you want?"
His boyfriend answers by pulling him into his chest and wrapping whatever of themselves he could with the comforter trapped between them. Jake sticks out a hand onto the mattress in front of him so he wouldn't fall into Jay, not wanting to hurt his sick boyfriend, and Jay shuffles on his back until he's face-to-face with Jake's chest. When that's done, he tugs Jake all the way down so they're lying together, into each other, and the bed feels doubly warm than before.
"Cuddles," Jay answers, absolutely unnecessary. "Just stay with me."
"You're quite the clingy one," his boyfriend remarks, already running fingers through his hair in a comforting motion.
"It's your fault I'm cold," Jay answers, angling his neck towards Jake so it's easier for him to play with his hair. The rough finger pads and short, blunt nails scratching through his scalp gives him a sense of comfort he hasn't felt in a while, whatever muscle tension he had leaving his body at every graze. "It's only fair I get some form of compensation."
"Me taking care of you wasn't enough?"
"This is part of the package." If he was a cat, Jay would be purring loudly in content, his breaths evening out now that they're pressed flush together, safe and secure and relaxed with the love of his life. "I know you like it anyway."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you happy."
Jay's right though; it doesn't take a minute to see who's the clingier one between both of them when Jake is almost attached to him by the hip. Even now, he's the one melting into all the nooks and crannies of his boyfriend, damp sheets and sweaty skin and stuffy air be damned. However, he still makes a half-hearted attempt to defend himself by saying, "Not my fault you're so nice to hug."
"Hmm."
The conversation slides away then. All that's left is their breathing that slowly synchronises: one, two, three, four, and Jay's eyelids fluttering closed as he's lulled into sleep.
"I gotta move soon," Jake whispers after five minutes pass, not sure if his boyfriend had fallen asleep again, "to make sure I don't contract the fever. But I'll be back, okay?"
"Mm."
He leans over and kisses Jay on the cheeks, his forehead, and the right side of his jaw. "Get better soon. Be right back."
Three days later, rather than fighting over the blanket, they're tangled in each other's arms and legs instead as night passes into morning. Their messes are cleaned as soon as they wake up, their laundry folded on time, their meals tasting much better since Jay has recovered from the fever.
(This time, he complains that Jake moves around too much in his sleep. Jake pinches his hip as a reply.)
iii. On vacation
Once they arrange their luggage on one side of the room and Jay opens the windows to air out the slight dustiness, Jake whistles a low note. "Should've known you'd take us to a fancy place."
His boyfriend turns back to him, makes a trek for the couch where he was resting. "We are celebrating three years together, so I figured it'd be a little special. Are you complaining?"
"No."
Of course Jake isn't. There's nothing to complain about when both of them finally snagged an extra day off amidst their busy schedules—Jake as a project engineer and Jay with his businesses—to book a small chalet somewhere in the countryside for their three-day weekend. Modest in size but trendy in design, the chalet stood on a sloping area on one edge of a village tucked high into the mountains, with logs forming the walls and roof, two windows overlooking the mountainside view that dipped into forests and scattered villages throughout this region, and a sunlit deck that went around the perimeter of the chalet.
The interior of the chalet surprised them more. Within the small area, there was a compact but functional kitchen in one corner of the house next to a medium-sized fireplace, complete with a poker and a box of firewood in the living area. Across the fireplace was the couch they were sitting on: worn and soft from years of usage, lending a homey feel to the overall room, and behind them were wall shelves filled with books and snow globes.
Next to the wall shelves was a rectangular room, where a double bed stood under a sloping roof with a glass window that they could open and peer up from. There was a vanity next to the bed, and a wardrobe with sliding doors stood on the opposite side, with potted plants adorning the corner shelves nearby.
Above the kitchen was a loft with a single mattress and a large window that looked over the asphalt road some fifteen meters away from the chalet. Initially, they wanted to sleep there instead to get the best view of the naked night sky, but trekking up and down for clothes or the bathroom is too much of a chore anyway.
"So what do you wanna do later?" Jay asks after he's done observing, with satisfaction, the chalet he booked only a week ago. It was off-season during the autumn which made it easier for him to book, but he was still riding the high of making a great decision last minute.
Beside him, the couch dips as Jake shifts closer. "Let's go down to the river. I heard you can fish there."
"We don't have any gear with us though."
"You can rent from the local fishermen by the hour. I asked the landlord yesterday." His eyes sparkle in excitement before Jay could even think of refusing. "Come on man, I've never gone fishing in autumn before. Let's catch some for dinner tonight."
"I wasn't going to say no," Jay answers. Because he couldn't have, anyway, when Jake peers up at him from such a distance where visible excitement dances across his handsome features, and Jay just wants that joy to stay longer on his face.
"But we're going to nap first," he announces, standing up from the couch and turning to the direction of the bed. "I'm dead tired."
"Need a massage?" Jake follows suit, placing his hands on Jay's shoulders and pressing them between his palms. "You deserve one for driving us all the way here, darling."
"No thanks," Jay answers, leading them towards the bedroom. "You're not as good as I am at giving them."
Behind him, his boyfriend huffs, continuing to massage his shoulders regardless. "Fine. Have it your way."
The central heating of the chalet made every inch of the interior warm even with the fireplace off, tempting them to sleep with every step they take, and the quiet winds bristling through the trees form a blanket of buzz noise around them. The bed creaks as the two young men settle on top, and before Jake could cover them both with the blanket, Jay has already fallen asleep.
When they wake up a few hours later, it's only one p.m. and they have yet to make lunch. After Jay lifts his head up from the pillow, he can feel the sheets imprinted on his skin and his shirt turning damp from sweat despite the chilly air. He's about to roll over and slide off the bed when Jake's arm pin down his waist and he's breathing into the crook of his neck.
"No," Jake mumbles against his skin, eyebrows furrowing in distaste. "Stay a little longer."
"But I'm hungry."
"We can cook cup noodles soon."
"Ugh." Without opening his eyes, he can hear the visible pout in Jay's tone. "Come on, Jake, let's get up now."
"Kiss me first."
Jay rolls his eyes. "Big baby," he mutters, reaching over to his boyfriend and pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. His boyfriend's closed eyelids flutter at his action. "Your breath stinks."
"So does yours."
"Let's brush our teeth then?"
"No!" Jake tugs him down a little too roughly, his chin colliding with the crown of Jay's head.
"Ow!"
"Oh shit, sorry."
Pushing himself off of Jake's chest, Jay rubs at his head indignantly and scowls. "Stop being stupid."
"No you." His boyfriend flips onto his stomach, caging him between his arms, and his eyes glint in some sort of challenge, rather bold for whatever jovial mood they had earlier. Within a second, the temperature in the room drops by two degrees as Jake says, "You're stupid, but you're also kinda hot." He lets out a slow exhale that drags the edges of his lips into a brazen grin.
Underneath him, Jay's dark eyes curve upwards and sparkle in mischief. Oh, so is this what they were going to play?
As if he could read his mind, Jake scrunches his nose in defeat. "Look, am I not supposed to get horny when I had my dick pressed against your ass the entire time?"
"I didn't say anything about your hormonal teenage sex drive."
"Now you did."
"And your breath still stinks," Jay continues just for the hell of it, enjoying their banter, but then Jake knocks their foreheads together and presses their lips into a slow, sensual kiss, and then the humor turns into something heavier.
When they pull apart with saliva linking their mouths together, Jay blinks up at his boyfriend in a daze. He loves it when Jake is above him like this, all daring and authoritative and looming over him even though Jay was the taller of the two, the bed sinking from the weight of Jake holding himself up. Jay's heart picks up its pace even though it was far from the first time they've done this. "So were you, like, flirting with me?"
Jake frowns incredulously. "I'm straight up making out with you."
Rather than continuing the conversation, a pair of strong arms pull Jake downwards until their noses brush, their lips shy of another kiss. Jay traces the contours of his face with his eyes—his sharp cheekbones, strong slope of a nose, down to his plump lips, and forms a conclusion.
"Well, I think you're hot too," Jay whispers, gaze lingering a second too long at those lips before he tugs him down.
A sweet press of their mouths, closed with chaste kisses, gliding across soft plushness. Slide here, angle their heads, find a rhythm, slide there. Jake pulls away with a gasp for air and a thin line of spit connects their mouths, drips to their chin. He smirks at Jay's dazed expression following his movement, all thoughts narrowed down to where their bodies were connected, their clothed dicks unconsciously grinding against each other and their breaths mingling in the same space. Already the room grew stuffy at their proximity, but neither of them want to peel each other off—the warmth was a welcome reminder of their shared physicality, love and lust swirling in their gazes and searing their touches as they dive in for another kiss, and another, and another.
Jake opens his mouth first so his boyfriend can poke his tongue inside, a welcomed wet, warm and soft intrusion, then they sigh in unison as Jay explores his mouth in wide, sweeping strokes, tentatively curling around and tugging Jake's own tongue a few times so their spit mixed in their mouths. The air grows heavier with their breaths and hotter with every slick that echoes, the bed creaking as their hips rut up against each other to get some delicious friction.
"Ah," Jake gasps when his boyfriend sucks on his tongue vigorously, obscene lapping sounds echoing throughout the silent cabin. He pulls away before Jay could attack him again, regaining control over them by trailing one hand down to his boyfriend's right hip, holding him in place, and diving down to Jay's collarbones so he can lick and give kittenish bites.
Jay squirms just the way he wanted. "Jake," he huffs, laughter lacing the name, "it tickles."
"Your giggles are cute," Jake replies, diving up to the column of his neck to leave small, faint red bites on his tan skin. His boyfriend jerks his head in his direction as if to push him away, but Jake steadies himself with the hand on Jay's hip, leaving more kisses on the spots he bit.
"Tickles," Jay repeats himself. Knowing his boyfriend's penchant for kissing him all over his body, that fell on deaf ears as Jake continues to pepper marks all over down his throat again, to his bare collarbones, to the slight expanse of his chest that his unbuttoned shirt could afford. He squirms from the feathery touches, but there's also the hunger in Jake's eyes when they stare at each other that makes him fidget, how the grip on his waist tightens as Jake licks a stripe up his neck.
A small ah leaves Jay's mouth. "Jakey," he exhales, his breath shuddery. "I'm ticklish. I can't—mm—handle it."
"Only because you're ticklish?" Jake pushes himself up and away from his boyfriend so he can grind down hard on their dicks until it sends thrums of pleasure to their toes. His mouth drops open as he lets out a low, quiet groan at the feeling, before one corner lifts into a smug smirk. "Not because of this?"
Jay's eyes screw themselves shut and he shivers. Oh man, how could it feel so good when they've barely done anything? The combination of his boyfriend staring him down, Jake's assertive side appearing whenever they're about to have sex—intense eye contact and a pink tongue licking his lips as if ready to devour, while his strong, veiny arms cage him down on the bed—sent waves of arousal through his body, and Jay has to bite his lips to stop his own whimpers from leaking out.
"N-no," he exhales, stringing his boyfriend along the conversation just for the hell of it. "Just. Ticklish."
"Aw, you can be honest with me love," Jake replies, pressing his hips down and staying there just to see his boyfriend's face twist into a myriad of expressions: surprise, lust, embarrassment, before settling into pure pleasure. "You wanna fuck, don't you?"
Jay doesn't answer. His lip is caught between his teeth.
"How cute." Rolling his hips slow and deep one more time for good measure, Jake shifts himself upward so their torsos are aligned and he can coax Jay's mouth open with his own.
He swipes his tongue across Jay's lips. "Come on, babe," he groans into the kiss, "use your words."
"Y-yeah."
"Yeah what? Yeah, you'll use your words? Or yeah you wanna fuck?'
"Wanna fuck," grunts his boyfriend, defeated, a shy pink rising to his cheeks and colouring his face all the way down. "Wanna feel good with you."
The last of Jake's patience snaps at his honest declaration. He dives down to devour Jay's mouth in an aggressive kiss that's less mouth and more tongue, and that's all it takes for them to shed their clothes entirely.
"Fuck," Jake rasps afterwards. The heater is on but neither of them wore enough layers to block the autumn chill creeping through the ceiling window, and he regrets not dressing up properly after their sex. All that remains on him were his boxers and a loose wife-beater that could've been Jay's, which didn't do anything to cover his skin marked with red lines and bites and bruises. "Fuck, Jay. I'm shivering."
Next to him, Jay has his arms wrapped around himself, a scattering of his own share of bruises, bites and nail marks exposed across the expanse of his skin. "Jesus," he gasps. Even though the afternoon light blasted all its rays on both of them, they couldn't stop the slight shivers overtaking their bodies. "Didn't expect it to be this cold."
"We didn't turn off the heater earlier, did we?"
"Course not. We might get hypothermia or whatever if we had sex at this temperature."
Jake stifles a smile, flipping onto his other side so he's facing his boyfriend. "I don't think that's how it works."
He receives a grunt in reply. Jay juts out his bottom lip as he shuffles towards his boyfriend in search of more warmth, burying his head into the space underneath Jake's chin until they share the same breaths. "Should we get the fireplace going?"
"In a bit. Let's stay here for longer."
"What about fishing? I thought you wanted to do it today."
Jay yelps as he falls off his boyfriend's chest when Jake shoots up on the bed, ramrod straight and a new fire kicking out all of his exhaustion in him. "You're right." His voice is a little too loud for the proximity but neither of them comment on it. "Let's go now!"
Aw shit. Suppressing the urge to smile at his boyfriend's excitement, Jay asks, "But we need to get supper though."
"We'll catch it from the river. Come on, man, let's get ready now." Before Jay could complain, he yelps again when his boyfriend scrambles out of the bed to scoop him up in his arms.
"I can walk, dude," he says, legs marked with blue and red dangling in the air. "My hips don't hurt that much."
"But I know you won't if I left you," Jake answers, letting him down gently in front of the bathroom. "We almost never fish in the city and I'm not letting you escape this opportunity, so you're going in with me." He drags Jay in front of the shower and opens the glass door wide.
"What? Are we going for a round two?"
"Babe," he whines, face crumpling into exasperation, and then both of them giggle as they step inside the shower.
Okay, so maybe Jay regrets going fishing with his boyfriend. He isn't the type to complain about every little thing when he's a firm believer of creating your own happiness, but it's hard not to nitpick the situation they're in when he's waist-deep in a river that's too cold for the bold, bright sun glaring down at them. The chilly air is getting too friendly with his skin, the fish in the river are too snobby to pay his bait any attention, and Jake is on the other side of the flowing water immersed in trying out a new technique to catch some minnows without sparing him a solitary glance.
As Jay huffs, tugging the line a few times, Jake's words echo in his head.
"Let's have them for dinner," said his boyfriend after they've digested their lunch earlier, weaponising his sparkly eyes against Jay. "I've always wanted to go fishing with the one I love."
And, well, was he supposed to say no to that?
He could. Maybe he should have. Nothing has happened over the past hour he spent wading in the water, looking for fish in the orange glow of the retreating sunlight. Bored with zero traction to his rod at all, he turns his body towards Jake's direction and cups his mouth. "Jake! Jakey!"
"Yeah?" His boyfriend's answer is swallowed up by the sounds of the river flowing between them.
"Did you catch anything?"
Jake doesn't look away from the fishes gathering at one side. "Like one."
"Is that enough for dinner?"
Even then, the river couldn't muffle Jake's guffaw at that. "Jay," he yells, "you, of all people, would know."
"I don't wanna be here any longer!"
"Just a few more fish and we'll go!"
"Okay!"
Barely five minutes pass before the sounds of feet sloshing through water approach him. Jake still doesn't look up from the spot, nor do his hands stop tugging at the line, but he can tell that his boyfriend is huffy and puffy from the tone of his voice and a smile forms on his lips.
"Jake," says the man in question, "I'm freezing cold and the fish don't want me."
"Not with that attitude."
"Can't we just buy fish from the local fishmongers? They're selling their catch from here anyway."
Jake tuts and shakes his head. "Where's the fun in that? We're here to fish, not eat."
"But we're going to eat them all the same!"
Sensing that Jay is going to throw a tantrum if he stalls any longer, Jake reels back in his line and relents with an overdramatic sigh, complete with sagging shoulders and puppy eyes. "You really don't want to fish with me?"
"Don't give me that," his boyfriend chides, throwing one arm over his shoulders. "Come on man, I'm freezing and I don't want to catch a cold because of you again."
"Okay, fair." Grabbing the small box of bait he left on one of the rocks, Jake knocks his hip against Jay's. "Let's come back tomorrow."
Jay rolls his eyes so hard, the other man can feel it without looking. "Whatever, as long as we get out of here now."
If they were late to their fishing date the next day and there were a few more hickeys lining their neck and chest, neither Jake nor Jay complain.
iv. Not his choice
If Jake knew any better before they moved in together, he would learn to say no first.
No to Jay's lovely little pout and pleading eyes that crumbles his resolve like biscuits crushed in a fist; no to Jay imploring him to stay for one more episode, I promise it gets interesting even though Jake has been struggling to stay awake for the past hour; no to Jay's arm holding his waist down as they lie down on their bed and watch anime together on his iPad.
No, Jay, I just wanna sleep goddammit, he should be able to say, but it's hard to refuse an opportunity to sleep while he's being spooned by his boyfriend during one of these nights. No, Jay, I'm not interested in watching, he should say, but he derives enough joy watching his boyfriend react to them than he is in the show, and he doesn't mind it too much.
If any of their close friends heard that—Sunghoon, Heeseung, maybe Sunoo or Jungwon—they'd shake their head and simply conclude that "you're a lost case of being whipped." And they're right. At the end of the day, Jake just loves his boyfriend through and through; he's helpless in the face of Jay's habits and hobbies if it meant seeing him burst into happy giggles or excited fits of laughter, his broad frame turning delicate as he doubles down in joy.
So, okay, it's his fault for not being able to say no to him, but Jake wishes he'd be spared some mercy too.
The clock warns them that it's 2:15am when Jay closes the tabs and turns off the iPad at last, the mattress shifting in place as he leans over to return it to the nightstand. Jake has been half asleep for the better part of an hour, coaxed by the background buzz of whatever show had been playing and his boyfriend carding fingers through his hair. He's so, so tired, yet he manages to jolt awake when Jay placed the iPad away, as if guilty for being caught not paying attention even though Jay had definitely lulled him to sleep on purpose.
"Wh—hmmf—you done?" Jake asks, words slurred by his groggy tongue.
There's a click as the night lamp turns off, blanketing the room into a peaceful darkness before the bed shifts once more to accommodate his boyfriend's weight settling next to him.
"We're done," Jay murmurs, one hand returning to Jake's fluffy locks. "Let's sleep for real."
His boyfriend lets out an unintelligible gurgle, already lost to the clutches of Dreamland. "Mmrgh. Okay."
Silence. Tranquility. In the distance, a small bird rustles through the leaves of a tree, and the bed is as still as one can be.
Through the darkness in the room, Jay can make out Jake's eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks and his lips open ajar to let out small puffs of breaths. Under the dim light where shadows elongate his features and soften them around the edges, his bangs splayed over his forehead, he could easily resemble any of the male characters Jay's acquainted with. For one, if Jake straightened his air—it was ash-blonde at the moment—and let his bangs fall into his eyes, he could pass as a K-drama version of Tooru Amoru. Or his bangs could be parted and he could resemble, however bare the resemblance was, Nanao Kisaragi. Their puppy vibes were the same, at least, so it would kind of count. Or...or...
Okay, fine. He'll admit it: Jake doesn't look like any specific anime man—he's just blessed with looks comparable to one. However, Jay's stayed long enough in the anime community to know about cosplayers and picked up on some of their styling tricks himself: styling wigs, modifying clothes, shaping their face using makeup to bring out the essential sharp jawlines and shadows and shapely lips of anime men, or the soft, rounded features of anime women, so it's not all bad. In fact, with how handsome his boyfriend is, he's got a strong basis to work on.
Maybe it's the early-morning hours affecting his logic, but all of a sudden it clicks. A swipe of eyeliner on that corner, he thinks, tracing the shape of Jake's eyes with a finger, and perhaps a dark, brownish lip colour to add shadows to his lips. His hair could be combed down over his forehead, which is sure to soften his features, but the eyeliner would offset that innocence anyway. Jay would have to lend him some of his clothes with straight silhouettes more reminiscent of Japanese fashion he's seen on Instagram than Jake's usual style: oversized T-shirts that hung off his shoulders, for example, and bucket hats and baggy cargo pants and maybe a necklace or two. He might even don a three-piece suit if he was dressed up like Decim, and he'd need bobby pins to form curtain bangs of some sort if he was dressed up like Sugawara Koushi.
Jay's heart starts thrumming in excitement. Oh, dressing up his boyfriend and dolling him up to look like an anime character is gonna be so fun. Maybe he'll even figure out who Jake resembles the most, out of all the shows he's watched so far, and eventually assemble a cosplay for him. Would Jake say yes to that? This is the man who couldn't refuse his anime night invitations even though he could not give a single hoot about the genre. He'll say yes, wouldn't he?
Jay pauses his musings before sleep overtakes him. Has he opened a Pandora's box for himself?
One week and a lot of planning later, he's maneuvering his boyfriend—the star for tonight, Jay had dubbed him—in front of the mirror to reassess his outfit. Jake is wearing a stiff leather jacket with boxy shoulders, fitted black khaki pants, a white blouse and a black tie slung over one shoulder. His waist appeared even smaller when the clothes were cinched around him, and his broad frame made his features stronger than they already were.
However dashing he appeared to be, the man himself was still unimpressed. "Why are you making me wear this," deadpans Jake, bored eyes staring at his reflection as his boyfriend sizes him up from behind.
"Inspiration," Jay murmurs.
"Liar. You never needed me for inspiration."
"I can start now."
"I don't want to be your muse."
"Stop complaining." After a moment's pause, he moves to the side with a tilted head and narrowed eyes. Jake has no idea what exactly his boyfriend is measuring. "Didn't you want to be a pretty boyfriend?"
"A pretty boyfriend, yes. Your own dress-up doll, no."
"Boo, you're no fun." Finished with the assessment, Jay turns his boyfriend around with a catlike smile, eyes curving up in glee and hands reaching out to his waist. "At least you're hot."
Jake shuffles in his hold. "I know."
"And you look even hotter now as Amuro."
"Who?"
"Bourbon. The Black Org guy from Meitantei Conan."
He blinks at his boyfriend, taking a second to recall the names amidst his recent memories before it sinks in. "Wait," Jake says, facing his boyfriend, "did you dress me up as an anime man?"
"Kinda." The catlike smile turns into a cheeky grin. "I got the idea last night."
"Oh my God." Dragging a palm down his face, Jake grumbles, "You're no better than Kai or Soobin."
"Never said I was? We're all weeb friends in the first place. Anyway, go sit down." Jay pushes him towards the vanity and pulls out the stool below it, where his boyfriend obediently sits. "I don't have a lot of makeup on hand, but I'm going to transform you as best as I can."
Even though he isn't too enthusiastic about it, Jake does admit that his boyfriend is skilled in this department. The only time they use makeup is to go for formal events, like Jay's official store openings or when he's attending other business-related occasions, so he's surprised that the other man remembers how to use it. Jay draws liner at the edges of his eyes, rounding them out into bigger puppy-like shapes, and lightly contours the edges of Jake's cheekbones, nose, and temple to draw them out. A dark blush, blending in with his skin colour, goes to the corners of his cheeks where it meets the eyes, and highlighter is dusted on the tip of his nose, his brow bone, and top of his cheeks so it all chisels his face.
After dabbing lip balm and a brick-red lipstick on his lips, Jay tells him to purse and smack his lips twice. Then, he moves away and lets Jake appraise his look for himself.
"Whoa," Jake exhales, genuinely impressed at his reflection staring back at him. "Whoa, I look...different."
"You look great." A broad, starry grin spreads across his boyfriend's face. "Wow, I could totally kiss you right now."
"Do it," says Jake, swiveling around on the stool and pursing his lips together into an exaggerated pout, leaning forward into his boyfriend's personal space.
Jay doesn't budge from his spot; he doesn't even blink when Jake says, "Pay me for being your dress up doll. Kiss me silly."
"You're silly," he answers before sliding two arms over Jake's shoulders and tilting his head forward. Before they could properly kiss, he stares at Jake's lashes over his closed lids, his glossy lips and the flush on his cheeks, then Jay opens his mouth and swallows him down, catching his boyfriend by surprise.
"Mmph!" Jake leans backwards but catches him by the waist, their embrace immediately tightening as Jay slides onto his lap and pushes a tongue through his mouth. He sighs on instinct, loving the way his boyfriend's tongue explores the insides and his teeth nibbles on his lips, the way Jay bucks his hips against his without hesitation. The gloss on his lips make the kiss rather sticky, but Jake doesn't mind it much when he can still make Jay's breath hitch as he sucks on his tongue, cups his ass so they can grind harder and better against each other.
Jay pulls away first, reassessing the damage done to his work before he realises that Jake looks so, so much better with his hair mussed and his makeup smeared. Holy shit, it's like his weeb fantasies came to life: one of the hottest (anime) man he'd ever laid his eyes on, debauched and breathing heavily with saliva swapped in for gloss on his lips, red trailing from the apples to his cheeks down to the slight expanse of chest peeking behind the shirt.
Heat rushes to his face, his head swirling with arousal. "Aw fuck," he murmurs, eyelids halfway closed, "maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."
"What, you horny?" Jake asks at the same time he grinds on him. "Can't stand me turning into your favourite fantasy?"
"You're going to make my dick fall off," Jay complains, swooping in for another kiss. "How about you talk after a quickie?"
"You're insufferable," answers his boyfriend, but the corners of his lips lift up into a shameless grin.
The next day, after they've cleaned up the remnants of his makeover in the room and showered off any traces of sex on their body, Jay flops down on the bed and spreads out his limbs. "Alas," he announces, "I can finally cross 'get railed by Amuro' off my bucket list!"
Jake guffaws, doubling over in front of the wardrobe. "God, you're such a fucking weeb!"