Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Days in Seoul begin to get colder by the day. It’s the middle of Autumn—and though this season has been rather mild so far, Junhee knows it’s better to hide the plants that usually stand in the front of his small, hole-in-the-wall flower shop, rather than letting them get frostbitten later on. The heavy clay planters prove especially difficult—the day before, when the florist was replanting his ginormous yucca in the apartment, he threw out his back, so his attempts to move anything heavier than twenty pounds, made him tear up a little. He must have looked very miserable because—

“Do you need a hand?”

Donghun is on his midday coffee run; he used to pick the coffee shop in the opposite direction from his tattoo studio, but it has since changed. Sehyoon likes to tease him about it—about the fact that he picks the worst coffee just to be able to steal a glance at the leather-clad florist with a pretty smile and intense eyes. It’s a curious sight, really; based on their professions, neither of them look like what people would assume. Donghun likes relaxed fits with softly waved hair; it’s vests and wide pants, earthy tones and quirky berets, pastels and headbands. Hidden underneath the fashionable clothes are tattoos and piercings, distinctly contrasting with his persona.

He asks to help out though, in shameless honesty, because he had been looking for a good excuse to talk to the florist  for the past few months. And since the man is currently struggling with moving a heavy pot with succulents and decorative rocks—that kind of makes Donghun want to show off a little, and is there a better way to do it than by helping his crush?

“Sure,” Junhee replies, even before looking up, and when he sees the pierced and tattooed business neighbour, he couldn't help but to startle a bit. Not that he’s been unaware of his existence—quite the contrary. He’s seen him, of course; it’s hard not to notice the tattoo artist, especially when opening and closing. Donghun pretends not to notice the surprise in the florist’s eyes, and with the other's  help, they move the ridiculously heavy planter inside the shop. Junhee sighs, massaging his lower back with a grumble.

Donghun looks around a little—he’s never been here before. He sees a well lit main room with shelves of potted plants on the sides. At the back of the desk, there are more shelves, though this time with cut flowers for arrangements. Right next there’s a door leading undoubtedly to the backroom. From behind the frosted glass, one can see someone moving around.

“It’s a really nice place,” he mentions, and Junhee is once again a little startled because—he really hasn’t expected him to have such a soft, gentle voice. “Can you recommend something for my studio? Something that’s easy to maintain?”

Junhee grinds this info for some time as if he has completely forgotten how to speak. Donghun awkwardly looks around again.

“Cactus.”

“Huh?” the artist asks in confusion, pulled out of his mindless staring.

“A cactus plant,” Junhee repeats, and then clears up. “For your studio, I mean. Perhaps… echinopsis?”

His eyes begin to dart around the shelves. “They’re hardy, and can take a lot… kind of like old friendships, you can leave them unattended and then pick up where you have left off.”

He speaks with his back turned, rummaging through various tiny cacti in equally small planters. He fishes one out, one that has the most potential to bloom. When he turns around he notices that the artist’s eyes haven’t left him for a second which is evident by how quickly the man looks away.

“Here,” Junhee says and hands him the plant in a rose gold tin bucket. “The prickles, aren’t they perfect for a tattoo studio?”

In truth, the florist is aware that the tattoo shop nearby is called Cactus Studios. This time it’s Donghun who’s left a little speechless. He gingerly accepts the plant and reaches to his coat pocket to take out his wallet but Junhee just shakes his head.

“Just take it, it needs a good home anyway,” he says and smiles, and when he does—Donghun feels his heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long time. It’s bizarre. It doesn’t hurt, yet the sensation is somewhat unpleasant. As if his heart is already setting up for a failure and letting him know that he shouldn’t bother. Were these warning signs?

“Thanks,” Donghun says with a small nod. “I’m Donghun, by the way.”

“Junhee,” the florist smiles this charming smile of his and the artist’s heart does another somersault in his chest.

“Were you growing the beans for coffee yourself, or what?” Sehyoon asks, turning around in his swivel chair. It’s a slow day, so he’s a bit bored on his own. He smells the coffee and makes a face. “Did you go to that café again? Ugh.”

The co-owner eyes the small cactus that Donghun has set on the desk. All of their furniture is black so the rose gold accent looked pretty nice among the sea of monochrome tones between the floor, the walls, and the desk. Donghun doesn’t reply to either question, passing the paper cup to his friend instead.

“Well…? What’s going on with the cactus?” Sehyoon bites his bagel and stares at his friend, waiting for some answers. Donghun sits on the other chair, sinking in the leather padding and ponders the question. Exactly… What is going on with the cactus? “Did you finally manage to talk to him, then?”

“Kind of?” he replies. “It was… more of a weird, not even small, talk. I helped him carry a heavy pot inside, then asked if there is a good plant to keep in a studio, and he gave me this.”

He motions to the cactus, proudly sitting in the bucket.

“He… he has a very pretty smile. Pretty voice, too.”

Sehyoon watches Donghun sink even further into the swivel chair and puts away his lunch back into the paper bag; he cleans the crumbs off his hands and then faces his friend properly, or as properly as you can with a bit of cream cheese on your lip.

“Are you doubting your chances?” he asks, already knowing Donghun will not tell him the truth, so not to worry him overly.

“No,” Donghun indeed lies, looking away.

“Donghun, you know that you can love more than once in your lifetime, right? Love is not some… one-time special offer that runs out and then you can never feel it again, right? Don’t treat yourself like damaged goods,” Sehyoon says, reading his friend’s mind like an open book. “Let yourself fall.”

Donghun plays with his sleeve, revealing a bit of a tattoo he got a long time ago when his life was still innocently pink and bright. He has never regretted it, actually. Not even when it has brought back bitter memories—because the phrase wasn't even his own idea. The man sighs; it’s not like he doesn’t understand what his best friend is saying. It’s just that sometimes it feels like life gives you a limited amount of chances, and some come around unannounced and pass by without being recognized. Donghun has stumbled upon one, and ever since, he’s been running away from anything remotely close to love, or deeper than casual sex.

“There’s a reason they say you ‘fall’ in love. You don’t run into it, you don’t fly up to catch it, you fall, sometimes face down into the dirt. Let yourself scrape your knees sometimes,” Sehyoon continues his monologue. “Being passionately desperate is better than closing your eyes and hoping for love to show up.”

Silence falls upon the two, interrupted only by the buzzing of the air conditioner. Donghun runs his hand through his soft hair, warm bronze waves scatter around and then bounce back in their place.

“You’re probably right,” he admits.

Yuchan’s small apartment is filled with the smell of pizza and cupcakes. The man watches his friend paint their nails black with gel polish. They’re on the second coat now, making sure it’s opaque and even, before putting their nails under the UV lamp. He himself is just doodling mindlessly in his sketchbook, making up minimal designs with a pen.

“How does it look?” Byeongkwan asks, waving their hand in front of Yuchan’s eyes. “Don’t I look good in nail polish?”

“You look great in everything,” Yuchan admits with a laugh, though it’s a little forced. He’s nervous, for no good reason, really, about telling his childhood best friend about his sudden desire to change career paths. It’s not really a big deal, and Yuchan knows that he’s not going to be judged for it—still, it is a bit nerve-wracking.

Yuchan has been the first person Byeongkwan has come out to as non-binary. He appreciates the great trust his friend put in him by telling him, and nothing has changed between them—after all, Byeongkwan is just Byeongkwan, regardless of their pronouns or identity.

“Oh, that one is really cool!” Byeongkwan says, pointing to a small doodle of a smiling cactus Yuchan has drawn on the same page as the rest of the sketches. “Not gonna lie, I think it would look great as a tattoo, don’t you?”

“A tattoo? Why suddenly—” Yuchan wonders out loud, voice only slightly panicked. “I mean, yeah! I agree, but do you really want to put a random doodle on your body?”

“It’s your random doodle, of course I’d love to have it on me,” Byeongkwan says, looking at their best friend incredulously. “Why don’t you poke it into me? Do you have something we could use?”

Yuchan stares at them for a little while, biting his lips a little. “Actually…”

He dives under the bed to take out a box with his tattoo supplies: a machine, sterile needles, inks, tattoo practice sheets, really anything that could be useful for becoming a tattoo artist. He’s a little apprehensive at first but decides to open the lid and show Byeongkwan what he’s been hiding. It’s all really basic, but he still has a long way to go when it comes to tattooing people. So far he’s filled many practice sheets with his designs but he’s never actually tried it on live skin. It’s both exciting and terrifying to have his first chance to do it for real.

“Wow,” Byeongkwan exclaims in quiet awe. “Didn’t you want to work in some company though?”

“About this… I really don’t think me in a corporate position is the best idea. It’s what my parents want for me but… you know how it is with parents, right?” Yuchan sighs. “They mean well but don’t quite get you sometimes… In any case, I have applied to a few different studios to become an apprentice and so far I haven’t heard back from anyone so I still haven’t told my parents I dropped the internship.”

“You dropped it already?” Byeongkwan asks, their eyes going wide.

“The boss was an incompetent asshole who kept dropping his work on the interns. Like… I get it that you’re some cousin of the CEO or whatever, but at least do your job…” Yuchan grumbles, fists curling tightly out of frustration. “All he knew what to do was to show off his fancy suits and eat lunch at expensive restaurants.”

“He sounds like a capitalistic bastard,” Byeongkwan nods along. “But… you have saved up, right? You can pay for the next rent?”

Yuchan nods. He appreciates his friend’s concern, so he hugs them tightly, pressing a small kiss on top of their head. “I have some money put away so don’t worry.”

He begins to sort through his tattoo supplies and then goes to wash his hands; he puts gloves on before disinfecting Byeongkwan’s arm and then gets on with his work. He freehands the tattoo, careful yet confident with his strokes, and soon enough the small doodle is forever etched onto his friend’s skin. Byeongkwan doesn’t even flinch; it’s not their first tattoo, and they consider getting many, many more tiny ones, making their body into a statement piece. The two friends are silent, muffled rock music playing through a small Bluetooth speaker and the buzzing of the machine being the only things that make any noise. When Yuchan is done, Byeongkwan smiles, their eyes turning into cute crescents, happy with the final look of their new ink.

“So, have you found someone yet?” Yuchan asks, taking off his gloves and discarding them into the nearby bin. He puts away his supplies and sprawls on the bed, laying his head on Byeongkwan’s lap. Byeongkwan’s fingers immediately entangle into their friend’s black hair. It’s soft, smooth, and scatters around like a halo as Byeongkwan plays with it to stall for a little bit. The younger one closes his eyes while waiting for an answer.

They finally clear their throat, “Well… not that I haven’t tried…”

“Is someone giving you crap again?” Yuchan’s eyes snap open, concern evident in his frowned eyebrows and a pout threatening to form. “Do I have to punch someone out once more?”

Byeongkwan laughs, throwing their head back at the memory of that one fight in high school—it was Yuchan versus some raging transphobe who called Byeongkwan an unsavoury name. The younger one broke a finger on the guy’s jaw and ever since then nobody ever tried to start anything with Byeongkwan because they knew their friend would go after anyone who would hurt his best friend.

“It’s not that, honestly,” they say. “Just that nobody really made me do a double-take, you know? And I know how you feel about finding the one —”

Yuchan grunts and rolls his eyes. “I just think the one is such a weird concept. There’s nothing wrong with exploring your romantic options but being happily single is not that bad. There are more people than just that one person that you’re yet to meet, and even then, sometimes single life just suits you best.”

“But I’m a hopeless romantic,” Byeongkwan chuckles. “And I for sure don’t wait around, but I kind of want to settle with one person for a long time. I had my share of experience, now I just want someone to love me.”

“You don’t want to be horny anymore, you just want to be happy?” Yuchan quotes a meme, his voice profound as if saying some ancient proverb and it makes Byeongkwan howl out a loud laugh. They almost don’t notice the music turning off and switching to Yuchan’s phone ringing.

He reaches over and sees an unfamiliar number, so he wants to press ignore, but his finger slips and instead he picks the call up. He makes a face at Byeongkwan and clears his throat.

“Yes?”

“Is this Kang Yuchan?” the person on the other side asks.

Chapter Text

A week after the phone call, Yuchan sighs a little before stepping in front of the studio. He truly hadn’t expected to get employed just like that—of course, his portfolio has been kind of impressive since he’s been building it for years, but from what he’s seen on the internet, it’s not that easy to get an apprenticeship in a tattoo studio, especially in Korea. Officially they are a design atelier, and so far they haven’t had any unexpected inspections—after all, they pay their taxes and everything. Still, Yuchan is a little apprehensive about working as a tattoo artist; it’s not a very stable job. He’s lied to his parents about working in a start-up company.

“You're here!” Donghun exclaims when he sees Yuchan open the door; he’s in his coat, and it’s apparent he’s about to leave the studio. “Sehni can tell you all the details and everything, I’ll be back in a bit since we’ve run out of tea. Do you like some sort of specific brand? I can get it for you.”

“Uhh…” Yuchan mumbles, unsure of how to respond. “I’ll drink whatever you have.”

Donghun nods and then lets Yuchan in, closing the door behind him. The young man holds onto his bag strap and looks around. It’s his second time here, the first being his interview. Sehyoon waves at him from his swivel chair and beckons him closer. Instrumental rock music fills the air, along with the smell of antiseptic and buzzing of the heater in the corner. Yuchan makes his way over and sits on the chair on the other side of the desk. It’s comfortable, if a little worn out; the leather squeaks under his weight.

“Do you guys have, like… a lot of customers?” Yuchan asks. Every time he’s been over, the studio has been empty, so he starts to wonder if it isn’t some sort of scam.

“Yeah, we have regulars and some new clients pop in from time to time, but it’s not like people come here from the streets,” Sehyoon explains. “Maybe it’s better that way…”

“You know, I was trying to find you guys on social media, but there is nothing. If you had an Instagram, you would get hella clout!” Yuchan says, getting excited; he pulls his phone out and shows his art account which has racked up a little over 300,000 followers.

“H-hella? Hella what?” Sehyoon glances at the phone and then looks back at Yuchan. Now it’s really evident—the generational divide. They’re not even that far apart in ages, but somehow… “What’s clout?”

Yuchan chuckles. Oh, to be more knowledgeable in something than an older peer… “Clout is like… popularity? Recognition. If you would put some of your inks on IG you might get big and get more customers. Maybe I should make the account? Do you have some old photos of your works?”

Sehyoon nods and points to polaroids hanging on a string of fairy lights (Donghun’s idea). Yuchan gets up and inspects the pictures; he takes a few of them down and then sets them in pairs on the black desk. His eyes land on the cactus plant, so he leans the pictures against the rose gold bucket and takes a few photos, all while Sehyoon is watching him sceptically. The young artist edits the photos a little so that they’re clear and pleasing to the eye; aesthetic if you will. His fingers are quick, tapping in the email for the account and setting a password. They brainstorm the name together and decide on a simple cactus_studios.

While they are busy with the profile, Donghun finally comes back with a bag from a convenience store, and… another plant. He’s holding onto the tiny succulent as if it was his emotional support buddy, cheeks pink, eyes a little hazy. Sehyoon glances at him and he knows .

He doesn’t make a comment yet, not sure if Yuchan is an ally at all, let alone part of the community. He just raises his eyebrow, making sure Donghun catches the expression. His friend just rolls his eyes, his face saying ‘just leave me alone’. He sets the plant next to the cactus and then notices the scattered polaroids.

“I made an account for the studio, on Instagram,” Yuchan explains, gathering the photos and hanging them up again in their rightful place. “I think that way you might get more people to see your work and book appointments. I’m gonna give you guys a shoutout on my page to get you a kickstart. But first, let’s take a selfie together for our first post. Maybe let’s get people to know you? We can make an intro post for each of us?”

Yuchan is pumping ideas like crazy, the two older friends barely able to follow his thinking process. They just nod along, since it seems simple enough to do and if it means more people would get to see their art, then so be it. They pose together for a cute, approachable looking selfie and Yuchan posts it, adding hashtags and a small introduction. He then goes over and reposts the photo on his page, telling his followers to check out his new endeavour.

Soon they get a couple of hundred followers and Donghun looks at the count in awe. “That’s really cool.”

“Right?” Yuchan smiles cutely. He turns around when the bell over the door rings, announcing they have a customer and sees a girl enter; she takes off her coat, as if already familiar with the inside and waves at Sehyoon who waves back. She makes her way to the main room where all of the equipment has been set up and the sliding door is closed by Donghun. The youngest of the artists sits back on the chair and observes Sehyoon like a hawk, curious about him.

He seems to be very quiet and reserved, and maybe even a little unapproachable; it could have been the strong, yet attractive eyebrows that make Yuchan think that. Or maybe the snake bites, and tattoos covering his arms and neck. Not that tattoos make someone unapproachable, but there’s a certain vibe to some people, sometimes unintentional.

“What?” Sehyoon asks, his voice pulling Yuchan out of his thoughts. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat.

“I was just thinking… You guys do piercing too, right?”

“Yeah,” Sehyoon confirms and puts away his pen and sketchbook. “Do you want to get something too?”

Yuchan thinks for a bit, leaning back in the chair and eyeing the ceiling. It’s not like he can’t do it, right? First of all, he’s an adult, second of all, he’s not picturing himself working in any kind of desk job, ever. And third of all, he can always take it out. Sehyoon chuckles, seeing the younger man so deep in thought, pouting as the cogs turn in his brain.

“You don’t have to rush,” the older one says. “In fact, you shouldn’t take this decision too lightly. It is a body modification, after all. When you think of getting a piercing, or a tattoo, you have to think about a couple of things. Like, are you able to tend to it? Can you take the necessary time to clean it? Is your body okay with foreign objects? With inks?”

Sehyoon tugs on his collar and shows off a tiny scar right above his sternum. It’s barely noticeable, and Yuchan has to get closer to spot it, but it is there, nonetheless.

“I got a surface piercing done a couple of years ago and my body started rejecting it. I noticed a little too late and though nothing serious came out of it… It’s best to be ready for all outcomes,” he says and pulls the collar up again, straightening it neatly as it has been before. “But it was fun while it lasted.”

“How about a lip?” Yuchan decides.

Over the next couple of weeks, Donghun keeps bringing plants and flowers to the tattoo studio. A succulent here, a snake plant there, another cactus to sit on their design desk (“Donghun, it’s already too cluttered!”), and a yucca to place in the corner.

Donghun is holding onto a beautiful calathea when he enters the studio and Sehyoon points at him with his pen in an accusatory manner. “Not a step closer, or so help me!”

Donghun pouts and sets the pot on the floor. Sehyoon has a very hard time resisting the facial expression but he’s firm in his belief. He will not let Donghun be a panicked, useless gay, not in this household, not under this roof. He gets up from the main desk and walks toward his friend to face him.

“What did I tell you? Just ask for his goddamn number, take him out on a date, and make out with him! What’s so difficult about it?”

The older one looks away, his eyes wandering around the studio, avoiding Sehyoon’s gaze like fire. He rushes his tattooed hand through hair and sighs. “You don’t get it. I feel… like maybe I shouldn’t… shouldn’t get attached. Because it’s not going to work out anyway.”

“What makes you say that?” Sehyoon’s face goes softer as he takes Donghun’s hand and leads him to sit on the sofa.

“Last time…”

“Last time didn’t work out, but it was neither your nor her fault. It’s been years, maybe you can open up again? Or did the scar replace your heart for good?” Sehyoon asks, squeezing Donghun’s palm to reassure him. “I see how much it pains you to have this kind of crush. You’re making up excuses just to see him. Every day I can see you look through the window to catch a glimpse of him. Don’t you think it’s best to face it all head-on?”

Donghun shakes his head. “I don’t think I can.”

The two friends look at each other; they don’t even need words to understand. They’ve known each other for years , they’ve seen each other in their worst moments, as well as their best. Blackout drunk. Broken. Sobbing on the bed. Yelling out of happiness. Laughing their asses off. Staying in serene silence… and so much more. They’ve been there for each other every step of this weird little journey they’ve unknowingly embarked on together. Sehyoon let Donghun crash on his couch when he broke up with his first love. He cleaned the blood off his face because he picked a fight after a night of drinking away the pain. Donghun was always there to catch Sehyoon. Every heartbreak, every disappointment, Donghun made sure Sehyoon felt loved and needed and safe, no matter the circumstance.

So now they stare, their eyes saying everything that needed to be said.

“That tattooed guy is hot,” Byeongkwan says, their painted fingers arranging a cute birthday bouquet that has been set to be picked up in a few hours. They’re really good with what they’re doing; quick, efficient and at the same time gentle enough not to hurt the flowers.

“Y-yeah,” Junhee mumbles, letting out a breath he isn’t aware he’s been holding. Is this how it feels to have your breath taken away? Because the lightheadedness is a little concerning to the florist and he starts to wonder what he’s been doing his whole life, chasing after people who haven’t made that kind of impression. “Kwan, I think I’m in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just love,” they reply, smiling lightly. “There’s nothing wrong with a little crush. Love is fun! Love is… well, something new every time, right?”

Junhee turns around to face his employee; he leans on the counter and lets out another sigh, this one heavier. “I feel like you and I have completely different experiences with love.”

“Oh, I’m sensing a lot of heartbreak in your life,” Byeongkwan hums as if they’ve cracked the code. “So what is it? Comphet kicking you in the balls every time? Emotionally unavailable partners?”

Junhee briefly wonders if he should even reply. Truth be told, they’ve known each other for some time, and Byeongkwan has opened up about their issues and love life and whatnot pretty quickly, but Junhee has been more of a listener in those situations. He would throw in a piece of advice or two, but other than that… He ponders the thought—baring his soul maybe hasn’t been on the agenda today, but Donghun looks really good in a pastel green vest that pokes from underneath the fawn coat, with his cute grown out hair and a pretty beret. His eyes have twinkled like smoky quartz, shimmering in the sunlight pouring in through the window, and Junhee has felt as if the ground was about to swallow him whole. It’s been almost painful, to look at Donghun and know that all the thoughts and all the dreams were nothing but that—thoughts and dreams. Hopeless and useless.

“I’ve never heard an ‘I love you’ back in my life,” he admits, and slumps over the counter even more than before, deflating as the words leave his lips. “Isn’t it weird? I’m 26 and I’ve never had someone care about me enough to say those three words romantically.”

Byeongkwan puts away the finished arrangement and sets it on the shelf, before turning back to face Junhee. They think of the right thing to say. “I don’t think that’s weird. I know people who don’t say it because they don’t mean it. I guess that’s one way they care about the other person. My point is, professing your love is difficult. It’s hard to let yourself show your vulnerable side because it sometimes feels like it’s too much. People should say what’s on their minds more if you ask me.”

“At this point, I feel like I’m unlovable,” Junhee whispers, his heart hurting at the revelation. “Like maybe I’m not worth it.”

“See, this is not what you should think. There is no person that is not worth loving. But you know what’s better?... It’s not letting a confession determine your self-worth,” Byeongkwan says, fiddling with a pen they used for writing down details in their commission book. “Love isn’t everything there is to life, and basing your outlook on the number of people who said those three overused words is… kind of sad.”

“Not like I can really help it,” Junhee replies, heaving yet another sigh. The heart-to-heart has cleared his head a little. He looks at a small almanack with meanings of flowers—he knows them like the back of his hand, but Donghun is probably unaware… Somewhere in the back of his mind, a plan starts budding.

Chapter Text

December has greeted Seoul with light snow mixed with a drizzle that turns it into brown-grey sludge occupying the gutters. The shop displays around Junhee’s flower store have been decked in Christmas decorations: twinkling lights, fake snow, red ribbons, tiny trees… It looks really cute until you remember that Junhee identifies Christmas with a lack of a lover to spend it with. Nevertheless, Byeongkwan insists on employing their creative sense and mixing it with Junhee’s knowledge of plants to create an educational display. They set up poinsettias, an orchid cactus, a Japanese boxthorn; Junhee has made a holly wreath and hung up a rather large mistletoe. The two have made cards informing on the meanings of each plant, and to which tradition they belong and then set them next to the decoration.

“Are you doing anything on Christmas?” Junhee asks, trimming the freshly cut flowers to put them into a vase.

“Are you asking me out?” Byeongkwan replies with a question. “I mean, I’m aware I look great in a skirt, but damn.”

Junhee rolls his eyes with a small chuckle. “You’re unbelievable. So, are you?”

“No, I’m home alone, my parents are going to Jeju to relax for a little bit,” Byeongkwan shrugs. “Good for them, they need something good in their life.”

The small bell hanging over the door rings and the two pairs of eyes look up to see Donghun entering the store. He looks cold, cheeks and nose as pink as Byeongkwan’s nail polish. Junhee’s breath catches in his throat, and he can barely croak out a weak ‘hello’ when the tattoo artist smiles at him. He looks… very soft, as usual. The black beanie makes his ears fold slightly and Junhee needs to stop staring, but Donghun is wearing a large oversized coat and a wide scarf, everything in earth tones, and he’s beautiful .

“Love the display,” Donghun says. “My yucca is having some trouble… Do you… think you can help me?”

He shows the florist a photo of his plant, and Junhee has to force himself to look away from the man’s face, and instead at the screen. He clears his throat and examines the browning on the leaves before speaking up, “The heater is on most of the time, right?”

“How did you know that?” Donghun asks, taken aback a little. He locks his phone and eyes Junhee in slight awe.

“Yuccas tend to get dried out when there’s not enough humidity in the air. It’s best to spray the leaves often to prevent that from happening. Luckily it’s not a parasite, otherwise, your plant might not survive, but just try spritzing some water on it every now and then,” Junhee explains. “And your aglaonema is having the same issue… the leaves look a little droopy in the background there. Try increasing the moisture in the air.”

Byeongkwan watches the exchange from their spot by the counter and raises their eyebrow. They notice that Donghun is staring at Junhee a little too longingly for it to be a coincidence. The apprentice decides to text Yuchan.

‘I think your boss has a crush on my boss’, they write, listening in on the conversation that has turned into a lecture about plant care in winter.

‘No kidding,’ Yuchan replies, on his break from tattooing. He’s having a smoke in front of the building, typing away on katalk. He’s finally got used to his lip piercing and since it healed nicely, he’s put a circular barbell in. ‘I sometimes hear Sehyoon hyung nag about it.’

The man crushes the butt in an almost full ashtray, putting the cigarette out before going back inside. Sehyoon looks up from the design desk, hoping to see Donghun enter, but gets back to his work when he sees it’s just Yuchan. He’s scribbling designs to put onto the Instagram page as ready-made designs to claim. They also are planning on a giveaway once their page reaches 30k followers; all in all, December seems to be shaping into a busy month.

Yuchan walks up to the desk and flips through the binder of finished designs. However, his eyes land on Sehyoon’s wrist that is now sporting a scribble rainbow tattoo that is in complete contrast with the rest of his black, graphic ink. The man has been wearing long sleeves most of the time, so this is the first time the young apprentice sees the new design.

“Cool,” he comments. “Did you tattoo it yourself?”

“Yep,” Sehyoon says, not looking up. “I have just taken off the tattoo foil yesterday.”

“Let’s take a photo of it and put it on the page,” Yuchan suggests. “Don’t we want people to know it’s a safe space? I was about to update the gram anyway.”

Donghun finally walks in… holding a bouquet wrapped in paper to prevent it from freezing over. Sehyoon raises his well-manicured brow and stares at his friend, a little baffled. At least it’s not another potted plant , he thinks and watches Donghun unwrap the flowers and put them in a tall vase (he’s had no idea they even kept vases in the studio!). Donghun carefully fixes the light pink ranunculus flowers and watches the bouquet for a little while, unaware of the two pairs of eyes on his back. The eldest of the three pulls a small book out of his bag and bites his lip. He brushes the spine, worn out and frayed, yet charmingly beautiful in its condition. The man thinks back on what Junhee has said about it.

It was a gift from Junhee’s grandmother, and he’s been holding onto it all throughout high school and college. There are various notes on the slightly yellowed pages, on plant care and myths and legends… It’s more like a diary, in some aspects. Donghun carefully flips through the well-read pages. Instead of photos, there are elegant aquatints mimicking watercolour paintings, illustrating the different flowers and arrangements. The book itself is a work of art; while educational, it’s just so pleasing to the eye that Donghun cannot focus on any of the text—his eyes slide over from one figure to the next, taking in the masterful etchings one print at a time.

“Are we interrupting something?” Sehyoon says, and Donghun jumps up because he hasn’t noticed him walking up. He turns around, breathing heavily. “What’s up with the flowers?”

Donghun clears his throat. “I—uh… I asked him to make a bouquet for me. You know, freeform it. Isn’t it pretty? I think cut flowers suit the studio too.”

Yuchan and Sehyoon exchange glances before Sehyoon speaks up again. “So did you get his number? Or ask him out?”

The eldest begins fiddling with his fingers, avoiding Sehyoon’s burning gaze. He looks like a cornered animal, because he knows he’s been going to the flower shop to ask about those two things for weeks, but he just cannot bring himself to face another disappointment.

Sehyoon understands the meaning of the pout so he backs away a bit.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll come with you, and so help me, if you don’t ask him out, I’ll do it myself,” he says, crossing his arms; he likes challenging Donghun from time to time. “Deal?”

Yuchan looks at the two. This can’t end well , he thinks to himself before getting back to updating Instagram.

The next morning Donghun agonizes in front of the mirror; should he go with a blue cardigan and a white shirt? Or maybe he should go with jewel tones? Doesn’t green look the best with his brown hair though? Perhaps a baby blue shirt and a white pullover would suit him the most? He thinks about it long and hard; he wants to make a good impression but at the same time he’s afraid Junhee will think he’s weird for dressing up like that.

He hears the doorbell, so he reluctantly opens the door for Sehyoon who’s wearing a boxy fit; as always the man is dressed in a wild combination that somehow makes sense anyway. 

“Why are you still in your PJs?” Sehyoon asks and takes a look at the mess behind Donghun’s back. “Nevermind… God, just wear what you normally wear!”

“I don’t know what to pick!” he yells once the door is closed. “I don’t want him to think I’m trying too hard!”

“What’s wrong with trying hard to look good for your crush? Isn’t that normal? You want to make a good impression when you ask him out,” Sehyoon raises his brow and begins to put away some of the clothes into their rightful places in the closet. “Wear whatever makes you feel confident. Don’t think it’s lame to try; people nowadays don’t make enough effort sometimes. You know you look great, so I don’t know where that bullshit attitude is coming from now.”

Donghun swallows hard and sighs. “I just don’t want another disappointment.”

“Was your first love truly a disappointment though? Or are you trying to tell yourself that, to justify your fear? There’s no need to deny the fact that you loved her, even though the relationship turned out nothing like you’ve imagined,” Sehyoon muses. “There are no villains in here. Only people who just didn’t fit together.”

He passes his friend the blue shirt and a white jumper, and then looks for straight leg light denim jeans. “Here, wear this, and let’s get it over with. No need to waffle about that.”

The two hop on the subway and ride in silence to their studio. They have a customer first-thing in the morning, so while one of them is doing a piercing, the other is starting on the first session of tattooing. The day is colder than usual, so Donghun wraps himself tightly in the warm scarf and pulls his hat lower to cover his ears as they walk from the station to the studio. They pass the flower shop and see it’s already open; no wonder, it’s nearing 9:30 a.m. and Junhee opens at 6 a.m. sharp. They can barely see the inside through the fogged-up windows, but someone is sweeping the floor sleepily, while another  is checking the inventory.

The two friends arrive at the studio and are greeted by Yuchan stirring his coffee absentmindedly with a tablespoon as he scrolls through god knows which of his many SNS. His nails are painted today and Sehyoon cocks his head to the side.

“I’ve never seen you in nail polish,” he says, taking a closer look at the gradient of black and blue. “Looks good. Classy.”

“Thanks! My friend, Byeongkwan painted them for me. They’re much better at this than I am,” he explains. “Speaking of, they want to set an appointment here, you guys have any gaps in the schedule where you could fit them in? I’m booked till January.”

Donghun looks through his notebook and shakes his head, then eyes Sehyoon who is scrolling down the appointment list on his phone. “Oh, yeah. Next week, one of the customers asked theirs to be rescheduled at a later time so I have a free spot.”

“Thanks, hyung, it means a lot, they really liked one of the designs on our page but I’m too busy to do it myself,” Yuchan explains and then writes a message to Byeongkwan about the appointment. “Poggers.”

Sehyoon and Donghun look at each other and blink. Poggers? The slang coming out of Yuchan’s mouth gets weirder and weirder with each passing day. The two look toward the door and see their customer come in. He takes off his mask and shudders before taking off his coat and hanging it up on the rack near the door. Donghun asks Yuchan to make coffee for the man and then goes to the separate room with all of their equipment. The piercing is first and it takes less than a minute.

“Okay, Sehni, I’ve set up the tray for you,” Donghun says, poking his head out of the room. He’s taking off his gloves as he lets Yuchan in with the mug of coffee. The actual studio looks cosy and inviting; the hydraulic chairs are covered with soft, freshly washed cotton sheets (today’s theme is cute cacti), and the silence is replaced by simple compositions recorded by Donghun back when he was still playing the guitar. Sehyoon puts on his apron and a mask and then washes and disinfects his hands thoroughly before putting on sleeve protectors and gloves.

Few hours later, the tattoo is halfway done—the outline and part of the shadows are finished in this session, and the customer waves to the whole crew, saying he’ll be back after the New Year, to wrap up the tattoo. Sehyoon takes a short break to stretch and drink a cup of coffee before lunch—the time the two friends are supposed to go to the flower shop.

Sehyoon hasn’t been a wingman in a long time, but he supposes that just his presence should make Donghun more forthcoming. Yuchan mouths a ‘good luck’ to the two and slurps away at his noodles. The day is even colder than before; the freezing air makes Donghun shudder—and to boot, he’s also nervous . The small distance they have to walk feels like hours of trekking and when they finally stand before the door, Donghun hesitates, so Sehyoon is the one to push the door open confidently. Junhee looks up from his magazine and smiles at the newcomers. He straightens up in his seat, folding the paper neatly to the side.

“H-hi,” Donghun stutters as he walks toward the counter. Sehyoon follows him, looking around the small shop. It looks neater than he’d expect.

“Hello,” Junhee nods. “You brought a friend.”

“Yeah, this is, uh, this is Kim Sehyoon, we co-own the studio,” Donghun stalls; he doesn’t want to ask for his number. Well, he wants to know it, yes, but he has no courage to actually utter the words. Sehyoon waves at Junhee as they exchange greetings, and then looks expectantly at his friend.

“How do you like the book?” Junhee asks, leaning on the counter and looking at Donghun as if he was the only one present. His eyes twinkle playfully. “Did you find out anything interesting?”

“The book is great! It’s… it’s really pretty,” Donghun replies, staring at Junhee. He is pretty. He is so pretty in his two-coloured leather jacket, his grey pullover, and black turtleneck, with a dainty necklace falling onto his chest, he’s the embodiment of pretty and handsome and everything in between.

Junhee realizes that his subtle way of flirting with the meanings of flowers has been perhaps too subtle so he just nods thoughtfully. He sees the urging looks thrown Donghun's way by Sehyoon so he opens his mouth to talk but Byeongkwan walks out of the backroom, holding a handful of tulips they've just got done sorting. Sehyoon's gaze immediately snaps to them, taking in the long burgundy skirt with a side slit and loose black shirt tucked in at the waist. Junhee swears he's heard the air sharply escaping Sehyoon's throat at the beautiful sight when Byeongkwan smiles at the customers. They pass Junhee and put each of the three colours of tulips into respective vases, fixing them a little so they're not tangled. They glance at Sehyoon curiously.

The man, who originally is supposed to be the wingman, is now gay-panicking himself. When he meets Byeongkwan’s eyes, he looks away quickly. The four people gathered seemingly all are lost in their thoughts until Junhee finally speaks up.

“Do you need more help with your plants?” he asks and Donghun snaps out of his staring at the florist. “I can just give you my number so you don’t have to walk here every time. N-not that it’s a bad thing. You can come here whenever—”

“I’d love to get your number,” Donghun sighs in relief. All three can hear a small cough (no doubt masking a chuckle) coming from Byeongkwan, who is now sorting the scattered decorations and putting them into their respective places in the drawers. Junhee takes the artist’s phone and puts his number into it. “T-thanks.”

Donghun looks to Sehyoon and notices the clouded gaze fixed on the other florist. He nudges the man who comically flinches, having been pulled out of his head so suddenly.

"We can go," Donghun says and smiles at Junhee before tugging on Sehyoon's sleeve.

"Right," Sehyoon mumbles, and follows his friend after stealing one last glance at Byeongkwan.

Chapter Text

The next week, Yuchan reminds Sehyoon that he’s bringing his friend over for the tattoo, to which the latter just nods. He’s been caught up in his thoughts ever since their flower shop visit, and even stopped bothering Donghun about finally texting Junhee. Sure, getting the number has already been a huge step but it absolutely cannot end at just that, not after him agonizing over every little thing regarding the florist for the past months. However, now Sehyoon is faced with the very same problem. How to ask the gorgeous person out? Would it be weird? To just walk up to them and ask? It wouldn’t… or would it?

“Sehyoon, your coffee!” Donghun says and takes the coffee jug out of Sehyoon’s grip before everything can spill over. “God, what got into you?”

"You're the pot calling the kettle," Sehyoon grumbles as he grabs a rag to wipe up the countertop of the  coffee that still managed to spill.

"I'm not the one who almost scalded their hand with hot joe," Donghun reminds him. "Drink up, there's a dick piercing in 10."

The next day Yuchan gets to the studio last, huffing and apologizing for being late. He pulls his friend inside and closes the door before the freezing cold can get to the other two artists. Today Byeongkwan is wearing wide orange and navy plaid pants, a loose t-shirt pulled over a turtleneck and topped with a vintage leather jacket, well worn in the crooks of the elbows yet well taken care of. They wave cutely and take off the outerwear, hanging it on the rack. The click of their booties pulls Sehyoon out of his sketchbook but instead of saying something, he just...stares. Breath gets knocked right out of his chest when Byeongkwan sweeps their hair back a little, fixing it in the mirror on the wall.

"Their name is Byeongkwan," Yuchan says when the two finally walk up to the desk. Sehyoon's cheeks get a little pinker than usual and Donghun stifles a laugh. "They're my best friend since forever so please take care of them!"

Without much else, Yuchan disappears in the storage room, getting his gear ready for his customer, leaving the three alone.

"I…didn't know you were Yuchan's friend," Donghun says. "What a coincidence. I don't think we need formal introductions, at this point...you know me already."

"Yeah! Yuchan never mentioned he has a cute florist friend?" Byeongkwan asks with a small pout. "He's really not doing me any favours, is he?"

"Well, he did get you a spot with Sehyoon," Donghun points out and pats his friend's shoulder to pull him out of the staring and bring his breathing back to normal. "I'll leave you guys to it, I have to work on a project."

Sehyoon wets his lips; they've gone dry from his weird breathing pattern brought on by Byeongkwan's presence. His chest feels a little tight, and his heart is beating against his ribcage so hard that if it hasn't been for the music in the background, Sehyoon's sure the other would hear how devastatingly gravely his crush has manifested itself in that moment. He can't tear his eyes away from Byeongkwan. All of his fleeting relationships now feel like a waste of time because—it hasn't been them, it hasn't been Byeongkwan.

"I saw some designs on the page. You know, on Instagram," Byeongkwan speaks up and Sehyoon's eyes snap up to meet theirs. "I really liked the rainbow scribble. It fits my style, I think."

"You'll look good in anything," Sehyoon says and then flushes, realising his filter didn't manage to stop the words slipping from his tongue. He clears his throat, feeling an amused look on himself. "I mean, it's a simple design, if that's what you're going for."

Something clicks in Sehyoon's mind. They're talking about his rainbow scribble. His very own pride flag permanently etched into his skin. His ears pink up so he once again clears his throat and gets up before he can embarrass himself further, motioning Byeongkwan to follow him into the studio part. Yuchan is setting his equipment behind the curtain, making sure everything is in working order, sterile, and in its place. Soon enough another customer walks in and settles on the prepared tattoo bed. Byeongkwan is watching Sehyoon prepare his own tray with inks, needles, and saline in a bottle.

"You know, normally you wouldn't be able to just come in and get it done," Yuchan says from behind the curtain, a tattoo machine buzzing in his hand as he begins his work—or rather continues the last session. "Say 'thank you Channie'."

Byeongkwan laughs, loud and honest, and it makes Sehyoon drop a bottle of ink on the ground. Luckily it's closed so no expensive inventory goes to waste, but Sehyoon's heart begins to beat faster, so much so that it feels like it's threatening to break through his ribcage and escape. He turns around and puts the tray on the small table next to a tattoo chair. Byeongkwan's sleeve is already rolled up and it shows off the very first tattoo Yuchan has done on them, as well as some other micro-tattoos. Sehyoon recognises Yuchan's style and chuckles; they haven't worked together for long  but already the style is recognizable enough to say, that's kangchan's (Yuchan's artistic nickname) ink.

Once his hair is pulled back with a headband, his hands are sanitised, and clothes protected, he puts on gloves and begins to work on the scribble. He doesn't say much; he's not much of a talker in the first place, and especially not in front of a crush. He's already embarrassed himself enough, he doesn't need to add mortification of a boring small talk to that experience. He looks up at Byeongkwan; they don't seem very phased by the pain, even near the sensitive areas of their wrist. They also don't seem to mind the silence between them and Sehyoon. The weight of worry falls off Sehyoon's shoulders as he looks back to his work. It's coming out pretty, better than when he's done it on his own body, so he hums happily to the tune of Donghun's composition playing in the background.

It doesn't take long to finish, with the buzz of tattoo guns, puns coming from behind the curtain, and Yuchan's empty threats he'll tattoo a dick onto the customer's back if they don't stop the lame jokes, everything wraps up quicker than Sehyoon has expected.

"Smoke break?" Yuchan asks the customer when he hears that Sehyoon is done. He pours saline over the tattoo and then covers it up so the client can dress and take a break with him. Sure, smoking shouldn't occur during sessions, at least not for the one getting inked, but a habit is a habit, and Yuchan prefers not to have a jittery person on his table because what he's doing is permanent—fucking up someone's tattoo is not on his to-do list.

Meanwhile, Byeongkwan is paying for the work, looking at their new baby through the transparent tattoo foil.

"You guys do piercings too, right?" they ask, seeing newly printed photos of various body modifications scattered on the table. "I always wanted to get something more."

"Sure... Donghun and I do them, and Yuchan is learning. What are you thinking of getting?" Sehyoon manages to speak, because it's not flirting, it's work. And maybe because he wants to see Byeongkwan more often. Maybe. Possibly.

"No idea yet!" Byeongkwan chuckles as they shuffle through the polaroids. They didn't show half of the crazy mods the studio's had the pleasure of performing.

"You should sleep on the thought. After all, it is a body modification, regardless of how well it can heal after taking it out," Sehyoon suggests. "If you have any questions…you can always, uh. You can call me. Call the studio."

Sehyoon wants to rip his brain apart because of the broken mind-to-mouth filter.

"I'll keep that in mind," Byeongkwan nods and puts the polaroids back where they belong before turning on their heel and leaving the studio, saying their goodbyes to his friend and the other artists.

Junhee is checking his phone every few minutes; he’s waiting for something, anything from Donghun. Every time his screen lights up with a notification, he stops his work, dropping whatever he’s been holding, and scrambles to check what it is. Every time it’s just an Instagram notification, or a new email entering his inbox, or a spam call taking away his precious battery percentage and leaving his heart empty. He knows. He knows very well that it’s kind of (actually, very) pitiful, and he’s tired of chasing after people who don’t care. Except he hopes that Donghun cares because—the thought that someone else has the privilege of meeting his kind, gentle gaze, of feeling the tickle of his breath on their necks, of holding his hand… it’s unbearable. And he is also painfully aware that he actually has no right to think that way. That this possessiveness, those feelings, have no grounds. And yet, it’s not his fault his brain is wired this way, that he can’t stop thinking about tucking a loose strand of Donghun’s hair behind his ear, about kissing his plump lips, about feeling his strong arms around his waist, and being able to smell the fresh scent of his cologne and laundry detergent, still lingering after a long day.

“Why the long face?” Byeongkwan asks, walking out of the backroom to put fresh baby pink coloured roses near the workbench. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing. Nothing is happening. That’s why I’m so…” Junhee trails off and sighs. “He should text me, right? He should say hi, or...something, anything.”

“He still hasn’t messaged you?” Byeongkwan gapes at the other florist, but the expression soon turns into a frown. “Is he playing with you or something?”

“I don’t know,” Junhee admits. “I don’t really have a reason to text him, so…”

“I think you should just bite the bullet,” Byeongkwan says. “Just come up with some excuse. I don’t know, ask him about his plants, whatever—”

The familiar tone of an incoming message interrupts Byeongkwan’s planning and he watches as Junhee rushes to see who it is. A small gasp full of relief comes out of his throat when he sees it’s from Donghun. He looks at the notification, not unlocking his phone yet, scared that if he does it, it will turn out to be the universe's cruel joke. He bites his lip and taps in the code, then opens the app.

‘Hi, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee after work?’

Junhee pauses for a second. Such simple words could turn him into complete mush so quickly, and frankly...it’s embarrassing. Humiliating even. Least bit of attention and Junhee’s begging for more on the inside.

‘Sure, let’s meet at 7:30,’ he responds, not wanting to sound too excited. It’s just coffee. Nothing more.

Junhee is shivering in the cold wind outside of his flower shop. He’s since locked up, closed the blinds, and made sure the temperature inside was stable, so now he’s leaning against the wall, large scarf not doing much to keep out the freezing whips of wind hitting him in the face time after time. 7:34—Junhee looks around, wondering if Donghun has bailed on him after all but then sees a pompom shaking on top of Donghun’s beanie as he’s briskly making his way across the street. His cheeks aren’t pink yet, since he hasn’t been standing outside for the past ten minutes, but he looks cold nonetheless.

“Sorry for the holdup,” he apologizes, voice sweet and familiar like lemon balm tea on an anxious day. “Sehyoon almost broke the autoclave so I had to stay behind. Let’s go.”

Junhee nods and they begin to stroll toward a nearby café, gloved hands in their pockets as they silently make their way to buy an overpriced, overly sweet coffee and fill themselves up on sugary pastries. They order in, not wanting to stand any longer in the freezing weather, and take a spot near the window looking out on the street. Cars pass by from time to time, slowly for once due to icy roads; people tread the slippery sidewalk carefully, trying not to slip while holding their presumably Christmas gifts that they've just bought for the fast approaching holidays.

The florist realizes that he's been staring mindlessly out of the window for the past couple of minutes when he hears Donghun clearing his throat quietly. Junhee turns his attention back to him and all of a sudden all he can see is the chocolate brown eyes, staring right back at him. He wants to look away but he can't. Like a magnet, they pull him in, not wanting to let go, capturing all of his thoughts and setting them on him, and him only. 

"How—how's your yucca?" Junhee asks, voice croaking because of course it would do it.

"It's great, I lowered the heat and turned up my humidifier, and I also spray the leaves daily," Donghun counts out on his fingers. "My other plants perked up, too."

"That's good to hear. Maybe you do have a green thumb after all," Junhee smiles and thanks the waiter for bringing their drinks to the table before digging into the cherry cake. "My parents wanted me to take over their restaurant but it never appealed to me enough to even consider."

"Your parents own a restaurant too?" Donghun asks, the rings on his fingers clicking against the fork as he brings the toffee tart to his mouth. "So do mine. And they also hoped I would take over but... well. I like to tattoo and pierce more than cook. Not that I can't. I can, and I won't burn the kitchen down but running a place is something completely different. My brother is taking over in the end."

"My eldest sister is taking over with her husband, at least that's what my parents settled for. The universe might do a reality check but that will come when it's time."

Junhee notices that Donghun is staring, eyes a little out of focus, but the gaze is clearly resting on his lips. He runs his tongue along the bottom lip, thinking that maybe some crumbs stuck to his slightly chapped mouth. Donghun's heart starts beating a little faster. His nagging thoughts resurface; he wants to kiss Junhee right there and then, months of yearning flooding his heart wave after wave, like a tsunami, tide of emotions washing against the cliff of his heart. It feels like the edge is about to crumble and he'll fall in deep, deeper than before. He wants to hold Junhee's hands, the delicate, dainty fingers covered in tiny cuts from prickles would fit so well against his own, tattooed ones, as if they belonged, encapsulated in warmth between his palms. He wants...no, needs to feel him close, to hear his heartbeat against his own.

Has it been lust? They don't even know each other much. After all.. hobbies? Tastes in music? Interests? Likes and dislikes? They haven't talked about it. They haven't really talked about anything aside from plants and small talk to fill in the silence.

"So…" Donghun manages to finally stop gawking at Junhee. "How did you pick up floriculture?"

Junhee considers the question for a little while. "Well, I think it was all because of my grandma. She had a way with plants and she always took me with her to the garden, teaching me about flowers and herbs and spices…"

He trails off, recalling the warm days of garden work: the mist covering his arms while watering plants, the sweat and dirt of pruning, and the satisfaction of seeing the flowers bloom and thrive after so much hard work. Unknowingly, the florist smiles, and Donghun is completely done for. The uneven tug at the corners of Junhee's mouth, the dimples showing—his expression makes the artist employ every single bit of restraint left in his body in order not to catch his hands with his own and kiss his knuckles like a madman. Instead he goes for his coffee, needing something to hold onto.

"How about you? A tattoo artist… it sounds so cool," Junhee asks, eyes trained on Donghun's face, taking in every little detail; how the muscles move when his eyes crinkle in a smile, how the long hair frame his temples in soft waves, how the piercings glimmer in the dim lights of the café every time he moves.

“I… initially I sang. I played the guitar and the piano for a small band but it, you know, it fizzled out,” Donghun glosses over this part of his life. Painful memories still linger, even after all these years. “Sehyoon wanted to give me an outlet, so he started drawing and painting sessions with me. In hindsight, I think this was just an excuse to keep an eye on me…”

“The band broke up?” Junhee asks, a little oblivious to the change in Donghun’s voice.

That would be an understatement of the year. The explosive disbandment left everyone with bitter resentment.

“Sure,” Donghun says. “It was years ago though. Might as well not matter anymore. I still sing and play sometimes but not for a gig. Some jam sessions here and there, among friends.”

“I’d like to hear it sometime,” Junhee smiles again, and finishes the rest of his coffee in one swig. “Maybe we can sing together.”

Silence falls between them and Donghun begins to play with his rings, wanting to say something, but at the same time not knowing what. He finally looks up, biting his lip. “You know, I don’t—I don’t do...things like that. Going out with people… it’s out of my comfort zone.”

He’s terrified he might say the wrong thing and scare Junhee away, or hurt him, or mess up one way or another.

“It’s okay,” Junhee assures the older with a small smile. “You don’t have to force yourself to spend time with me.”

“I’m not— it’s not about… I like being around you. I just… I have a hard time talking like that, casually, to someone else. When I look at you, my brain just shuts down,” Donghun finally confesses, not looking at the other man, worried about his reaction.

Junhee’s gaze is fixed on Donghun, lips turning into a comical ‘o’ before the corners of his mouth tug to the sides, toothy smile on full display. He rests his chin on his palm and tries to bring the older’s attention back to him. The long silence prompts the artist to look up at last and he’s met with probably (definitely) the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen in his twenty-seven years of existing on this green earth. The sight renders him speechless, even more than before; air leaves his lungs in a quiet gasp, inaudible to everyone but himself. To make sure his hands don’t do anything stupid, he uses them to tuck his hair behind his ears.

“It’s nice to know that you actually enjoy my company,” the younger says. The two stay like that until Donghun notices they haven’t spoken for the past couple of minutes.

“Do you wanna go?” he asks, noncommittally, putting the plate to the side along with his cup. “I can walk you home. If you want…”

Junhee nods and gets up then follows Donghun to get their outerwear. They leave the café and slowly make their way back to the flower shop. The streetlights flicker a little as the two walk along the sidewalk, both too shy to speak up. Luckily the silence is not completely uncomfortable. When they reach the stairs going up, to the private entrance for the residents, Junhee turns around, one foot on the first step already, and looks at Donghun.

On the barely lit staircase, Donghun looks...ethereal. Dim, warm light pouring from the dirty sconces reveal his pink cheeks and gleaming eyes, and one moment he’s there, standing slightly below, and the next his face is right next to Junhee’s—and oh god, his lips are so pouty and glossy. And he smells like coffee and cake, and gentle fabric softener. Junhee feels like his heart is about to stop right there and then.

He feels his back pressing against the wall, the leather of his coat catching on the rough paint job, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is Donghun’s hands on his cheeks, the cold rings making him shiver slightly against the calloused palms. Donghun leans in and Junhee meets him halfway, lips crashing into each other, their desires finally manifesting themselves completely out in the open. The cards are now on the table.

It’s hot, and not even the icy wind can cool them down; their tongues dance around each other, wet, and maybe a little forceful, but Donghun and Junhee wouldn’t have it any other way. They pull away for a moment, to catch a breath and stare at one another, but soon enough they lean their heads to the sides to capture each other’s lips again; they have craved this for months, and a simple peck would be too little to satisfy. Donghun’s fingers run through Junhee’s hair on his nape, and Junhee rests his hand on the small of Donghun’s back, pulling him closer, wanting to feel more. He thinks about the strong hands, how they would feel on his skin, tracing up his sides, and once again he shivers in Donghun’s grip.

The two hear nearby footsteps and pull away rapidly, breaths ragged and pupils blown. Before anyone can spot them, Junhee tugs on Donghun’s sleeve and pulls him, wanting him to follow up the stairs. There are only three apartments in this section of the building, and Junhee punches the code in as quickly as he can, wanting to feel the other’s touch again. The trill of the signal cannot come soon enough.

Chapter Text

They stumble inside, and Junhee’s back hits the door when Donghun pins him to the solid wood. They knock their shoes off, not caring in the slightest where they land. The coats slowly slide down, falling to the floor; Donghun hikes Junhee’s sweater and t-shirt up, fingers caressing his torso on the way, feathery touch causing the other to quiver and bite his lip. Junhee doesn’t stay still for long, his own hands eager to explore. They rest atop the man’s chest, firm muscles flexing a little at the sudden touch.

The younger of the two pushes the other, slowly guiding him to the bedroom. They both know how this night is going to end, and neither feels the need to put a stop to this. Junhee’s gaze is intense, shallow breaths escaping his lips quietly. Trying not to trip on the potted plants scattered around the apartment, they manage to safely reach the bedroom; the door is left cracked open slightly so all it takes is Donghun’s foot to push it ajar. Once again, Junhee is pinned to the wall, and his hands are seized by Donghun’s just to be pulled toward the older’s torso.

His mind goes blank when he pulls Donghun’s top up, revealing a navel piercing. It’s a simple, stainless steel curved barbell but the sight alone is enough to make Junhee completely forget about everything else. His breath picks up even more when his hands travel higher and stumble upon more metal underneath his fingertips. Donghun bites his lip, eyeing Junhee’s reaction, and soon enough the top is being wrestled off of him, something completely primal awoken in the younger’s movements. With that off, Junhee can see the tattoos adorning Donghun's arms and shoulders; famous paintings recreated on his skin, colours a little faded but still so beautiful. He soon gets rid of his own t-shirt and sweater and wraps his arms around Donghun, wanting to feel him close once more. He senses the plump lips caressing the side of his neck, going up to capture Junhee’s earlobe. Tongue pokes out to lick it, and Junhee can’t help but roll his eyes back and shove their hips together. He's been with more than a couple of men but not one of them has brought in this much passion.

They kiss again, tongues rolling across their lips, teeth catching them from time to time, leaving them swollen and pulsating. Donghun feels himself being guided once more and then the backs of his knees bump against the mattress. He sits down, pulling Junhee on top of him, head hazy from need. Junhee fills his mind, completely and utterly, and it's scary but he pushes the feeling down, allowing his body to take over. The kisses are sloppy, impatient, hot… Donghun drags his teeth down Junhee's neck and then stops and looks up.

"Sh-shit, we shouldn't—" he mumbles, but he can't stop his hands. "I don't have a condom on me—"

"I do," Junhee whispers, grinding down on Donghun's lap, lips attacking his neck and leaving a hickey next to a small rainbow flower tattoo. "So you don't have to worry, just…just touch me. Please."

Donghun doesn't need to be told twice. He flips Junhee over so that he's the one lying on the bed, and straddles his hips. The younger looks at him from under his long eyelashes, eyes heavy and half-lidded, head filled with white noise that blocks out everything but pleasure.

"Hold on," he whispers and leans over to the nightstand to pull out lubricant and a condom, then throws them on the bed right next to him for easy access.

"Junhee…" Donghun rasps and leans down to pin him to the bed, wanting to kiss him and never let go. It's been a long time since he's let himself feel that way. Casual hook-ups involved barely enough emotion to keep him turned on, and all of the affection would fizzle out the moment he's had his fill. "God, you're so hot…"

Junhee's flushed, so he chuckles in embarrassment at the compliment before tugging Donghun's hair to pull him down, lips meeting again in a messy kiss that knocks the breath out his chest. Junhee feels the man's hand making its way down, thumb flicking his nipple lightly. Just that small thing sets Junhee off, and truly, he stops caring if his moans will be too much, too loud, too frequent, he just wants to freely mewl at all the sensations. A chill runs down his spine, hair standing up in goosebumps as soon as Donghun reaches the waistband. One finger hooks against the jeans, tugging teasingly and Junhee rolls his hips, needing something, anything . He lets out a groan, knee between Donghun's thighs, pressing up and making the man chase the sensation.

He whispers a choked, "Hyung…", a sound so beautiful it makes Donghun lean down once more, lips swallowing the moan forming in Junhee's throat. The younger sits up and drags his palm down to Donghun's pants, trembling fingers fighting the button and zipper. He doesn't even notice when his own bottoms land on the floor, turned inside out, keys clacking in the pocket as they hit the ground. Now they're both naked, completely baring their bodies, and with them—their souls.

It's so different. Donghun is so tender, and Junhee is so open; it's like they can sense their need to break away from the same old story of meaningless sex between strangers.

They watch each other, drinking in the change, eyes roaming across their bodies as if they wanted to burn this image in their minds forever. Finally, Donghun takes the lube and spreads some on his fingers, coating them evenly. Junhee reaches for the pillow and props himself on it, knowing from experience it would come to that anyway. He sees Donghun lean down to press tiny kisses down Junhee's thigh and he shivers at that, one leg hooking around Donghun's shoulders in an attempt to bring him closer. He feels the tattooed fingers caress him—slow, touching all the right spots, leaving Junhee's body on fire.

Junhee claws at the sheets, a strangled gasp escaping his throat when he feels the first finger gently enter him. It doesn't hurt but Donghun still looks up and asks if it does. His other hand rests on the younger's hip, thumb stroking the spot to ease him a little as he stretches him slowly, making sure to do it properly. It takes time, and when he's finally done, Junhee's a panting mess. The gross emptiness that he feels after the digits are pulled out makes him mewl in desperation. He wraps his legs around Donghun's waist, desperately needing to close the distance between them, to card through his hair, and to kiss him hard, harder than before, leaving their lips swollen from biting.

Donghun reaches over to get a condom; he opens the package, hands a little shaky from anticipation, and rolls it down, then slicks his cock with more lube. He searches for Junhee’s eyes, waiting for permission, but Junhee just pulls him closer with a groan, no words needed to express just how much he wanted it. His nails dig into the muscular, tattooed shoulders when he feels Donghun fill him up. Junhee bites back a moan but Donghun isn't able to; a shaky breath escapes his lips, a small shudder running through his body.

"Shit," he whispers as he waits for Junhee to get used to him. "Can I—"

"Yeah," Junhee interrupts and hooks his legs around Donghun's waist, knees pressing against his sides. "Go on, please, just—"

Donghun braces his hands on the bed, while Junhee's own roam from one pec to another, entranced by the feeling of metal under his fingers, the barely audible click of steel against his nails, and how obviously it affects the older.

"Does it hurt?" Junhee asks, and then gasps because Donghun has started moving for real now. "W-when I touch—"

Donghun shakes his head and leans down to kiss Junhee, missing his taste already. He smells so sweet; flowers mixed with a faded scent of deodorant, and somehow the only thing that comes to Donghun's mind that could describe it would be...warm. Comforting. Junhee scratches the older's back, moan swallowed by another kiss; the slap of skin on skin makes him just a little bit crazy.

After some time, Donghun's arms get a little tired from holding up the weight of his body, so he pulls back a bit, now able to fully admire just how lewd Junhee's face is. His lips hang open, no longer filtering any sounds that form in his throat, his eyes are closed, long lashes resting against his cheeks. The hair is spread like a halo around Junhee's head, some strands sticking to the sweaty forehead and Donghun can’t help but go harder, craving to hear Junhee whimper and see him grasp at the sheets, seeking some semblance of leverage.

Junhee’s body is hot, so hot Donghun needs to pour more lube on his cock. When he stops moving to do just that, Junhee groans, something akin to a muffled ‘keep going’, and Donghun chuckles at the impatience. Junhee’s eyes snap open at the sound and he sees that the older is purposefully stalling, a teasing smirk gracing his lips.

“Come on,” Junhee pants out. “Are you too tired?”

“No, that’s not it,” Donghun whispers, leaning down, to stare into Junhee’s eyes. “You’re just really pretty.”

A blush spreads on the younger’s face, making his face even redder than it already is. He escapes with his gaze to the side, embarrassed more by this remark than by everything they have done so far, but a sudden thrust brings his attention back to Donghun’s face.

“Are you sure you’re n-not tired?” Junhee asks again. “If you want I can…”

“What, get on top?” Donghun stops again and his hands squeeze Junhee’s thighs, mere insinuation of this happening making him groan. He sees Junhee nod and shift in his spot. The man sits up, body trembling a little as Donghun slips out of him. Once Donghun’s back is pressing against the headboard, knees bent, Junhee settles on top of him. He places his hands on Donghun’s chest and rolls his hips, once, twice, observing the other, seeing how his face changes, lips opening in a loud moan.

Junhee grabs his cock and gives it a couple of strokes, head leaning to the side; he wants to keep his eyes open, to watch Donghun and the effect he has on him, but the pleasure is too much to handle without shutting down at least one sense. So he closes them, long lashes fluttering against the soft skin of his cheeks, face scrunching up a little. Junhee feels strong hands on his hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, no doubt bruising it in the process; but the younger likes bruises, he likes marks and hickeys—a reminder of the rare moments of bliss. A moan ripples through the air when Donghun starts moving with him. One of the hands moves up, sweeping over his abs; the thumb circles around Junhee's birthmark before moving on to press against his slit, smearing precum over the head.

Junhee keens at the touch, clenching and digging his nails into the taut skin stretched over Donghun's chest. His other hand works alongside the older's, smooth up and down motion matching the pace of the thrusting. He leans in to bite at Donghun's neck, sharp canines leaving behind a deep impression, which in turn makes the other growl and spank Junhee, the harsh sound turning him on even more.

Junhee's legs are getting tired, his back will hurt the next day, and a warming patch will be an absolute must, but he keeps going, feeling close.

"Fuck," he whispers, hugging Donghun close. "I won't last much longer, n-not if you do things like that…"

"Do you want to keep going? Should I slow down?" Donghun asks and halts his hand. He looks into Junhee's eyes, breath ragged, pupils blown wide.

"Yes…No…I don't know," Junhee can't decide, his voice a bit higher than usual, just like when he's embarrassed. "It feels so good…"

"I don’t want to overstimulate you,” Donghun chuckles at the hesitance. His movements are getting a little sloppy, a little less coordinated as he’s nearing his own peak. The two can now only pant and moan while staring at each other, unable to articulate anything more cohesive than drawn-out curses. Both can feel the tingle in the pits of their stomachs.

Donghun slams into Junhee a few more times; he squeezes the side of his thigh, fingertips going white from pressure, nails leaving behind pink half-moons on the flushed skin as he comes with a loud moan. His free hand drags down Junhee's back, the burn of scratches causing the younger to hiss at the sensation.

Donghun brings Junhee to his climax with his hand and captures his lips in a heated kiss, still trembling from his own orgasm. White splatters across his stomach, Junhee's groans echoing in the bedroom one louder than the previous. Small jitters of electricity make his body jerk with the waves of pleasure. He presses his forehead to the top of Donghun's head, uneven breaths escaping through parted lips.

They finally relax; Junhee melts into a hug and Donghun lets him because he's never felt like this . The foreign bliss, strange warmth spreading throughout his body, make him forget about his fear, if just for a moment. He helps Junhee get off of him, in case his shaking legs give up on the man. The older takes off the condom and ties it, and then gets up, searching for tissues or a towel to clean them up. He sees a package of wet tissues, so he leans over to take a couple and wipes Junhee, making sure not to overstimulate him further. He cleans the cum on his own abdomen and sighs in content. Junhee sits up.

"God. That was—" he struggles to find words, or maybe speaking with numb lips contributes to that, but he just trails off.

"Mind-blowing," Donghun suggests. "Yeah."

He passes the underwear to the florist, only now realising it's been a little cold in the room. Watching Junhee lazily slide his boxer briefs on brings him back to reality. His throat goes dry, sweat drips down the side of his neck as his shaky hands reach for his own underwear.

Junhee once again lies back, arm resting against his forehead. He feels the mattress shift under Donghun's weight but doesn't open his eyes, too tired and too blissed out to even attempt. Slowly he drifts into sleep. Donghun tries to doze off too but his heart is beating too fast, his thoughts are racing at the speed of light, and he has no idea what to do. He fights with his own instinct for two hours before finally getting up and putting on clothes in a hurry.

He doesn't see the way Junhee starts searching for the comforting warmth, and isn't aware that the trill of the automatic lock wakes the man up. Doozy, Junhee lifts his head, wanting to wrap his arms around Donghun but…

Donghun is no longer here.

"Fuck," he curses and covers his face with hands, trying to block out the realization that, once again, he let his body take over the sound mind.

In spite of the very much not ideal situation, Donghun has to be grateful for something: mainly, the convenience stores being open at 2am. He pays for the cigarettes and nervously taps his index finger against the carton now resting in his pocket, legs automatically carrying him to the subway station, last trains departing soon. Once in his apartment, he fights his thoughts again. He should shower but he doesn't want Junhee's lingering scent to disappear so soon. It's ironic—how the source of his anxiety is also the source of weird comfort.

It shouldn't have felt this good. It just shouldn't. They don't even know each other that well, just what possessed Donghun to give into this idea? That he can, what, fall in love with Junhee? And that the man would love him back? He has run out of luck years ago.

He wants to regret it all so badly. He wants to move on from this suffocating crush, and wants Junhee to mean as much as the next hook-up, but he just can't do that. The last few hours, first in the coffeeshop, an awkward date, then the kiss…and the sex, of course. All of those things, they have been unreal. For the first time in years Donghun has been able to experience joy when sharing bed with someone; not just lust, not only passion, but affection and... something that resembles first bursts of love, at least how he's remembered it, memory so dusty Donghun isn't quite sure it's the right word.

The four letter word. Two syllables that fill his head with panic.

It's not that he finds it hard to fall in love. That's not difficult at all. But Donghun is a one-and-done kind of person. He's had his first love, and that's it; after pouring in so much into that relationship, he's too afraid of pain that may come if this (whatever he and Junhee have) falls through. He's not prepared for the forgotten emotions making their way back to his head, intruding his thoughts, crawling throughout his heart like tiny parasites eager to eat away at him. He's not ready to face the fact that maybe he's unable to give more, despite having so much to offer. That perhaps…all of this should be kept away. Because one person has already taken a piece of him, something he can never recover, and he can't bring himself to give up more.

Donghun rips the plastic foil on the cigarette box and stops even before he pops the lid open. He balances the thin package between his fingers, tapping his forehead with the corner in a vain effort of stopping himself from going back to old habits. A loud sigh forms at the back of his throat; the man closes his eyes, lips bitten almost to blood. Donghun is stalling. He is trying to hold off.

But he can't.

The metallic taste of blood mixes with the cigarette smoke, blending together into a sickeningly unique yet familiar flavour of failure. His hands are less shaky now, head less filled with nagging thoughts.