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Han Joowon wishes the street were dark; it would have made being alone easier. As it is, the bright lights of the convenience store cast a mix of white and green onto the pavement, blending with the orange and red neon lights of the bar across the street. With a sigh, he resigns himself to leaning against the glass while he contemplates his choices.
A motorcycle whizzes by, breaking the stillness of the moment. Joowon glances at the digital clock inside the store. 02:49 glaring back at him in red as if accusing him of dallying with no reason.
The thing would've been right.
If asked, he wouldn't even know where to begin. A lie, of course. And he's never been a good liar. Not even to himself. Stupid and naive to some degree, sure, but he's been knocked down several pegs for him to realize that already. All things squared on that front.
So, no. This is another matter entirely.
He was glowing the last time he had seen him four— no, nearly five months ago. In that white jacket and faded blue jeans, his curls cropped closer than Joowon had ever seen them that he had to hold himself back from touching to see if it would still feel the same. Because he had known how those curls felt between his fingers from that one moment he stole without even realizing he did. Had known how soft they feel beneath his touch, how Dongsik lets himself lean to the touch even when wrecked by sobs, how his weight feels against Joowon's body when all strings are cut loose.
Five months. He thumps his head against the glass for each month, startling the cat resting on the outdoor table beside him who only turns away and back to sleep before Joowon even hits three. Joowon takes it as a win that he did not shudder at the sight of the grease and cigarette ash and alcohol on the stainless steel of the table.
Kwon Hyeok told him to move on if he's not going to do anything about it. As if moving on from the man—no matter how unrequited it is—who upended his life for the better is as easy as breathing. Han Joowon did not even know he fancied men—let alone another person—before Lee— before.
Before.
The muffled music from the establishment across the street spills onto the street, making Joowon look over at the open door, eyes flitting across the gaggle of people and noting the various states of dressed and undressed they are in. Not for the first time, Joowon wonders what it would be like to be in there, to muster courage enough to match the curiosity. But then again, there isn't a lot of curiosity to begin with, either. That is, until his eyes fall on him.
Lee Dongsik.
His bright eyes shine as he chats with another person near the end of the group, stepping out of the bar, his curls swaying when he throws his head back in another fit of laughter. Joowon almost thinks he can pick out the sound amidst the noise of everything and everyone else.
Surrounded by colors of all kinds—drag queens, Joowon's mind dimly supplies—Dongsik is wearing a gray jacket over a black Henley, all buttons undone; his legs are clad in dark, fitted jeans, paired with black boots. On his wrist, blue and pink ribbons are tied, swaying with each gesture of his hand as he speaks.
Joowon knows he should leave, should tear his eyes away from the man he's been thinking of but would never dare to reach out to. He should turn away, hide between the aisles of the convenience store behind him, before Dongsik catches his gaze, before Dongsik smiles at him in that way Joowon have found himself praying is reserved only for him.
Before Dongsik crosses the street and right into his personal space and greets him with that sweet, sweet timbre of his voice saying, "Joowon-ah."
And yet his feet remain where they are, refusing to move as his mind screams to just leave, to walk away, to just fucking go like he did months back. Five months. But Dongsik is still smiling, still talking, still gesturing with his hands like he does when his passion takes over, eyes crinkling in that specific way when his joy consumes him enough to not think of anything else that could dim his shine.
And there, finally, the sound of his laughter carried by a soft gust of wind that managed to cut through this dense part of the city. The others around him begin to disperse, trading goodbyes mixed with giggles and kisses. One sneaks a kiss on Dongsik's cheek that he laughs off, tilting his head to the side as though he's shy. Another slides a hand up and down his back before pulling him into a hug, nose buried in Dongsik's neck while Dongsik nods and returns the hug. Joowon eats it all up, drinks in this side of Dongsik he had never been privy to: loose limbs and teasing smiles and touches that he so freely gives. And oh, how he envies.
It is an ugly thing that twists in his chest, writhing against the misplaced injustice of it all that it should have been him. Should have been him who kisses Dongsik and makes him look down and back up at him with a tilt of his head as though asking for more. Should've been him who buries his face on Dongsik's neck until he can smell deep into his skin—past the perfume he would've worn on nights out like this, past the sweat, the alcohol, and deep into Dongsik himself. Should've been him with his hands on Dongsik’s arms, on his shoulders, on the small of his back—
But all he has in common with these people is that he's the one who said goodbye too. The one who leaves. And sure, Han Joowon might think softly of Lee Dongsik all the time, but he would sooner cut off his hand than ever earn the courage to reach for him again.
And yet, he hopes. A desperate thing that cries out from the depths of his very being. Look at me, it says, just once, even in passing, look at me. Joowon thinks this must be how it feels to be in love—stolen breaths from afar, and a gaze he would've thrown the world ablaze for it to fall on him one more time.
Maybe it is a cosmic joke then, or the universe is favoring him, but Dongsik is left across the street, waving after his friends and calling out to them with words Joowon does not absorb, focused as he is on the fact that he is alone with Dongsik. He waits and waits and waits… watches Dongsik standing still and staring at his friends in the distance.
Another motorcycle whizzes by, breaking the stillness of the moment. Joowon glances at the digital clock inside the store. 03:01 glaring back at him in red as if accusing him of dallying with no reason.
He could cross the street. Greet Dongsik like a normal person; say 'hi' and ask him how his night went. He could cross the street and he knows Dongsik would smile at him—because of course, he would, he's Lee Dongsik—and isn't that just the very reason why Han Joowon shouldn't?
The desperate thing inside his chest howls, pounding at his ribs as if to urge him to just fucking go towards Dongsik and be normal and say 'hi' because even that small thing would be more than enough to last another five months, and maybe then he could actually move on.
But Dongsik is turning to his direction—the white fluorescent light of the convenience store catching in his features and oh,
It’s too faint to hear from across the street, but Joowon does anyway. Hears it from the familiar way Dongsik's lips form the syllables, the surprise in his gaze, and the immediate way it softens—much like how softly he says, "Joowon-ah."
And then Dongsik is crossing the street, not even turning to look down the road and just gunning for it. Joowon is on his feet in an instant, catching Dongsik just as the man steps into the gutter.
"Joowon-ah," Dongsik's weight falls onto him, as though he is letting himself be held. Joowon can smell what must be the scent of the bar in him—alcohol, sweat, a mix of different perfumes from all the people that touched him tonight. "It really is you."
"You can't just do that, Lee Dongsik-ssi," says Joowon, aiming for admonishment but only coming out choked and worried, "What if there was a car or those motorcycles—"
"Let it be, Joowon-ah," Dongsik whispers, breath brushing against Joowon's neck. And if Joowon turns his head just so, he can bury his face in Dongsik's curls and breathe him in. "Let me be happy to see you again."
Joowon feels himself blushing. Dongsik is a comforting weight against him, warm and sturdy; his arms wrapped firmly around Joowon's shoulders. The howling in his chest settles then, the writhing thing in him untangling itself into smooth threads the longer Dongsik stays in his arms.
"Dongsik-ssi."
"Hm?"
"Let's get you home."
Slowly, gently, Dongsik pulls back. This close, Joowon drinks more of him in; the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the intensity of that gaze growing when he’s this close. The dark Henley turns out to be of a deep forest green color that blends beautifully with the rich color of his eyes.
Though Dongsik's smile does not quite reach his eyes when he steps back once, twice, and then says, "I feel a bit drunk to go back to Manyang. I'll probably just rent a room somewhere and sleep."
Dongsik sways forward to him again, and Joowon realizes he's still holding him by the hips, grip tightening at his words. And because he cannot help himself, he squeezes one more time before pulling away, drags his hand until just his fingers grazes Dongsik's body, "You can— I mean, I got a new place and there's a bed and well— I don't always stay in Seoul so— since I moved jobs awhile back— I mean, you can—"
"Joowon-ah," Dongsik chuckles, tilting his head to the side and baring his neck, "That's a lot of words to proposition a man."
"What!" Joowon pulls back, feeling his face heat up again as he looks anywhere but at Dongsik. "I'm not— I just mean— I can also take you— walk with you to a hotel if you prefer that— I mean, I don't trust this side of the city to be clean, but if that's what you prefer—"
"Thank you, Joowon-ah." Dongsik catches his gaze with a small smile, "But I see you're out for the night, I wouldn't want to disturb—"
"There's nothing to disturb."
"Is that right?"
Joowon gestures with his hand, hoping to come off as casual. "Yes. I thought I— well, the music was loud and there were too many people."
"Alright, Joowon-ah,” says Dongsik, as if it has always been that simple with Joowon. “Lead the way."
Before leaving, Joowon buys two bottles of water in the convenience store and hands one to Dongsik. He doesn't speak much as they walk to the bus stop, content to listen to Dongsik talk about his friends—how far back they went, a case during his time in the RIU, apparently, multiple cases if Joowon catches his drift…
They board the bus and alight not fifteen minutes later, and Joowon wonders why Dongsik is not asking him why he's there. Has he really been so obvious? He wanted to go inside the bar—not because Dongsik was there, he hadn't even known he was until that moment—but because he thought it'd be a good idea to be in the bar tonight. No matter the bar in question being far from his usual. Not when his usual had been broken up more than a year ago. Upended, really. And it's fine that way.
"Your tastes have improved, Joowon-ah," Dongsik notes when they enter Joowon's apartment. He seems more alert now than he had been initially outside the bar, less free with his touches, but still as animated with his words.
Joowon busies himself in the kitchen, not letting himself think of how Dongsik fits right into his space; how he follows Joowon removing his shoes and hanging his coat on the hooks in the foyer like he’d done it a million times before. How at home he looks in that green Henley and dark jeans; the delighted sounds he makes at each new thing he finds in this little space Joowon has curated in the months they were apart.
"Would you like some tea? More water? Food?"
"Tea is fine. Thank you."
Joowon hums, "I'll bring it to you in the living room."
His new apartment is an improvement over the previous one. He switched from an open floor plan to a one-bedroom unit, the living room and the kitchen divided by an island counter that also serves as a dining table. The couch now faces a flatscreen television that he actually takes the time to watch during his off days. His study table is still an organized chaos of documents, and his thinking board is shoved to the side of the short hallway leading to the bedroom and the toilet and bath across it.
The decoration is also vastly different. Where his previous place looked straight out of a showroom, this one has a maximalist feel to it. Personality, as Kwon Hyeok said when he first visited. The walls and furniture are of cream color accented by burgundy and deep greens. Paintings hung on the wall from an art fair he had gone to with Hyeok when they were distracting themselves from the mess that is their father's incarceration. Plants that do not need much attention but will still thrive. A speaker in the form of a London red bus from the short trip he had gone on in the UK, back when he thought satisfying the nostalgia would let him forget about other things. A Doctor Who Police Box that lights up when pressed, because it had been everywhere when he was studying there and he had grown fond of the show. Books spilling from the shelf and onto the chair beside it. Vinyl records and cassette tapes on a smaller shelf, and a record player that he bought from a second-hand shop in Gangwon-do.
He pairs the tea with some biscuits, hoping it'll quell any hungover Dongsik might feel in the morning. When he turns to the living room, he sees Dongsik looking at the records, leaning closer to peer at the albums.
"Oasis is a surprise," says Dongsik, fingertip grazing the case of a tape. It's the 1995 album and Joowon's favorite, (What's the Story) Morning Glory? "This was a Sunday's Best back home; Appa and Yuyeon knew every single word."
"I'd offer for you to play it, but I haven't found a cassette player yet."
Dongsik laughs, a short burst that shakes his shoulders. He throws Joowon a look, putting his hands on the back pockets of his pants, shirt stretching across his chest. "I'd give you one, but you never come around Manyang anymore. Between me and Jihwa, I think our houses have like six players that could still be working."
It's generous of Dongsik to give him both an in and an out on that particular topic. But Joowon does not know what to do with himself before, and he would not know what to do with himself now— not when he's faced by Lee Dongsik in his living room, a place he had made so carefully for himself, looking like he belongs with his Henley that makes his shoulders look broad and hides the slim taper of his waist that Joowon had held earlier.
"Some other time, maybe."
"Is that a plan?"
Maybe not so generous, then, after all. Joowon feels trapped beneath Dongsik's gaze—laid bare and open. What is there to say but 'yes'? Yes, of course, he'd go to Manyang if that is what Lee Dongsik wants. Yes, of course, he'd go through dusty boxes and unopened rooms hiding relics of a home broken by his own father for Dongsik even if he doesn’t ask. He'd drive to Manyang everyday if it means Dongsik wants to see him. He'd bring Dongsik all the food from faraway districts he had tried years ago if he says he misses the taste. He'd stay exactly where he is if that is what Dongsik asks of him. He only needs to ask, and Joowon would do it. Dongsik could ask him to bring a piece of the moon, and Joowon would burn himself carving it out for him.
"Do you want it to be?"
The answer comes without hesitation that it takes Joowon's breath away. "I'd love for it to be."
Joowon tears his gaze away from Dongsik, feeling his lungs constrict from lack of air, his chest feeling smaller than it had all his life. Has it always been this easy? All this time, had he also just needed to ask?
"Joowon-ah?"
"Tea. Your tea will get cold. The biscuits, too, in case you're hungry. When was the last time you ate—"
Dongsik is close now, standing a mere foot away, so that when Joowon looks up, he has nowhere else to stare at but him. With the jacket shed, the scent of the bar no longer clings to him, and he seems completely sober as he peers at Joowon with worried eyes.
"I didn't mean to push you, Joowon-ah." Dongsik bites at his lower lip—as he does sometimes when he hesitates—and Joowon's gaze darts down before meeting his eyes again, "You can come back to Manyang anytime you want. You know that, right?"
Joowon wants to say he doesn't. He doesn't know. And he doesn't want to presume, having been so careful about his place after everything that he all but drives around the town so he doesn't so much as pass through it when he goes back to Seoul. It's ridiculous, he knows, but—
"Joowon-ah," Dongsik raises a hand, and Joowon watches it slowly move to cradle his cheek and Dongsik—Joowon takes a shuddering breath that Dongsik must feel in the small space separating them—Dongsik touches him like he’s been wanting to, thumb brushing across his cheek and down to the corner of his lips, "Joowon-ah, I need you to tell me that you know that."
"I don't—" The words come out in a rush, a confession punched out of him with a gentle touch— "I didn't think— I'm sorry, Lee Dongsik-ssi."
A cold douse of shame trickles through his spine, and Joowon moves to hide. But Dongsik's hand remains firm on his face, thumb still brushing his cheek as though he is something precious to be held and Joowon wants to fall, wants to crumble beneath his gaze, wants to hold Lee Dongsik in his arms and never let go.
"Joowon-ah."
Closing his eyes at the gentleness with which Dongsik keeps saying his name, Joowon feels it even more keenly when Dongsik closes the space between them, forehead pressing against his, and that thumb never once ceasing in its motion.
"Joowon-ah, why won't you come back, hm?" The question reverberates between them, and Dongsik is so, so close, Joowon swears he could feel the words spoken directly onto his lips, "Why won't you come back to me?"
Opening his eyes and pulling back a bit, Joowon is surprised to find his own hands have found their way again on Dongsik's waist; grip tight enough to bunch the cloth and press into the warm skin beneath. Dongsik is still looking at him, something inscrutable in his gaze that Joowon cannot quite place but calls to him all the same.
When the answer leaves him, it is as though he can breathe again. "Because I won't leave again if I do," he feels Dongsik tremble before him, his hand tightening where it's still cradling his jaw, "And I don't think that's something you would want."
Then his breath is stolen from him, with Dongsik pressing his lips against his. Joowon gasps, hands moving to hold Dongsik's waist and pulling him close. Drowning; he was thirteen at a lake in England, one of those fieldtrips he always goes to simply because it was already paid for, and the only time he drowned, air stolen from his very lips and yet his body fights back for it, gains as much as what was taken, and oh, Dongsik is kissing him.
"Does that tell you what I want, Joowon-ah?" Both hands cradle his face now, and Joowon realizes he has pulled their hips flushed against each other, "Or is it still not enough?"
Joowon gasps for breath, his gaze darting between Dongsik's eyes now dark with lust and his parted lips—shining and wet where their spit have mixed—and dives in for another kiss.
Dimly, Joowon thinks he shouldn't like this. He never liked kissing, used to see other people do it and think he would never, ever subject himself to it. But Dongsik's lips part against his, his tongue darting out to pry Joowon's lips open, and he moans for more, presses himself close, closer, and fuck—
Dongsik's fingers card through his hair, tilting his head just so as he sucks on his tongue, making Joowon whine against his lips, one hand dragging up his back to pull him close and the other down to the small of his back and the curve of his ass.
And then Dongsik is pushing him onto the couch, straddling his lap, and Joowon's hand moves without thought to hold his waist again; his mouth parted for another kiss that Dongsik returns. His mind is slowly melting to just Dongsik, Dongsik, Dongsik— feeling nothing but the man on his lap, the weight of him, the feel of his thighs caging him in, and oh, there—
"Fuck, Dongsik-ssi—" Dongsik grinds down on his cock, moving his hips in circles as his ass sits firmly on Joowon's erection, making him tremble in pleasure, muffling his moans on Dongsik's chest as he hugs him close.
"Still not enough?" Another grind has Joowon biting down on the juncture between Dongsik's neck and shoulder, "Joowon-ah, I thought you'd learned not to make presumptions of me."
Joowon has half the mind to apologize, but Dongsik's chest feels soft and firm at the same time against his face, and the grinding on his cock feels too intense despite the layers between them, that all thoughts fly away except for the pleasure, except for the fact that Dongsik is here and Dongsik is kissing him and undoing the buttons of his shirt, calloused hands dragging down from his neck to his chest, his stomach, and down to his cock straining against his slacks.
"What do you want, Joowon-ah?" Dongsik whispers, biting at Joowon's bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, "Tell me."
"Keep— keep going. Don't stop."
"Need more than that, jagiya. Tell me."
"I want everything," Joowon meets his gaze, and he should’ve been terrified by what he said, but Dongsik is looking at him like he just told him a secret of the universe. "Dongsik-ssi, I want everything."
Dongsik curses under his breath, then kisses him again. Joowon squirms beneath him, hips thrusting up until Dongsik begins moving again, tugging at Joowon's shirt until he takes a moment to pull it off, and then Dongsik is kissing down his neck—biting and sucking, and all Joowon could do is tilt his head to give him more room, his own hands sneaking beneath Dongsik's shirt and up to his chest. His fingers skim across Dongsik's nipples and the man gasps above him, hips stuttering in their grinding before pressing down in earnest again.
Joowon glides his lips from Dongsik's jaw down to his neck, leaving a trail of light kisses on his wake. He bites at Dongsik's pecs through his shirt, making Dongsik grab the hair on the back of his neck. The sharp tug pulling a deep groan that he feels reverberating on his own chest.
His lips brush against a nipple, and Dongsik moans loudly above him, pulling his head close that all Joowon could do is close his lips around the hard nub tenting the shirt, licking and biting at it until Dongsik is writhing above him, resting his head against Joowon while filth spills unabashedly from his mouth.
"Joowon-ah, Joowon-ah— fuck, jagiya, love that pretty mouth on my tits. That's it, suck it hard, Joowon-ah, let me feel it. Fuck, again— again— do that again— oh, like that— ah—"
It feels harder than it should to tear his mouth away from Dongsik, but he does, scrambling instead to push his shirt up and away, baring Dongsik's skin for his mouth and hands.
And then Dongsik is opening their pants, the first brush of his hand on Joowon's cock has him whining, bucking into the touch in a bid for more, more, more—
"I'll give you more, Joowon-ah. You only need to ask."
Joowon feels more than sees the curve of Dongsik's smile pressed against his cheeks. And then Dongsik is holding both of them in his hands, the glide of each stroke is rough, and has Joowon whimpering until Dongsik pushes him away from his chest, holding out a hand before him and says, "Spit."
His brain stutters, "What?"
"Spit, Joowon-ah."
Joowon thinks that maybe he should be thinking twice about this, about why Dongsik is asking him to spit on his hand. But the commanding tone paired with Dongsik's eyes on him has him following without another thought, cock twitching against Dongsik's when his spit falls from his mouth and onto Dongsik’s waiting hand that already glistens from where he’d stroked them.
And oh, the thought of his spit mixing with precum and used as lube to jerk them both off would have had Joowon running for the hills. But he stays, stays beneath Dongsik and his strong thighs and his touches that would have had him falling to his knees had he not been sitting down already. Joowon shivers at each cry Dongsik lets out when he licks and bites and sucks at his nipples; playing with each nub until they're red, and even then he keeps going because Dongsik keeps pushing his chest out to his mouth, breaths turning into gasps as his hand stutters between them.
Dongsik works them up with languid strokes. "Look at you, Joowon-ah. Gorgeous. Moan louder for me, jagiya… that's it, that's it— hm, you feel so good, Joowon-ah. Let me hear you beg for me to make you cum." Joowon’s pleas are muffled, shuddering at the filth Dongsik is murmuring against his ear, occasionally biting the lobe, or sucking marks on his neck. "You feel so thick and heavy in my hand right now, Joowon-ah, I wish you'd just fuck me. Would you like that? Like the idea of me being greedy and keeping you to myself? I’d ride you 'til you cum inside me, jagiya, maybe I'll even let you eat your own cum out of me…" Joowon's moans seem to echo around them, pulling Dongsik close to him as he cums, muffling his cries with another bite on his chest that has Dongsik following him to the edge.
Slowly, Joowon comes back to himself, tongue soothing where he'd bitten Dongsik. His skin tingles, sparking where they touch.
"Is that enough, Joowon-ah?" Dongsik whispers at his temple, hugging Joowon close with an arm around his neck, "Do you get it now?"
Joowon pulls away, presses his lips against Dongsik's, unable to fight back a smile when he says, "I might need more convincing."
"Hm." Dongsik hums, brushing his lips down the slope of his nose, "I could do that."
"Would—" Joowon swallows, pulling back to hold Dongsik's gaze in his, "Would you stay?"
"There's nowhere I'd rather be," and there, Dongsik gives him that warm smile of his, and in that sweet, sweet timbre of his voice says, "Joowon-ah."