Archive of Our Own ^beta

Changbin is in the middle of drinking his protein shake when Minho calls.

It’s strange to see his name flash on the screen in the middle of the day. Minho should still be at work—it’s only half past three, after all. He and Minho don’t do calls, except for a few occasions, like birthdays (Minho loves calling him at the break of dawn, yelling, Happy birthday, Changbin-ah, and hanging up before Changbin can even get a word out) or group hang-outs (Minho is the only person Changbin trusts to grab exactly the food or drinks he asks for).

It’s strange enough that Changbin’s first thought is emergency. Something’s wrong. Especially when he remembers that Jisung is away for a work conference in Daegu.

He snatches his phone off the counter and slides his thumb across the screen to pick up the call with urgency.

“Hyung—”

“Yah, Changbin-ah, why do you sound so out of breath?” Minho asks. Cheerful as ever. Alright, maybe not cheerful, but certainly normal.

Changbin’s shoulders immediately lose their tension. “Why are you calling me at this hour? I thought something happened.”

“Can’t I simply call my favorite dongsaeng to check up on him?”

Changbin takes a sip of his shake. “Favorite? I thought that with Jisung and Jeongin, I barely even make the top three.”

“Jisungie doesn’t count. It would be unfair to include him,” Minho says, a hint of a smile in his voice. Ew, gross. “And Jeongin blew me off last week when I invited him and Minju to dinner. He dropped out of the ranking.”

“Wow,” Changbin laughs. “Seems like I’m very lucky.”

“Mhm. But your number one spot is in danger and it depends on how you’ll approach your next mission,” Minho says, completely serious now. “I need a favor.”

Changbin is a good friend. He’s trustworthy, eager to help, and he’s been told he’s a good shoulder to cry on—figuratively and literally. Everyone who has ever spent more than five minutes with him can attest to that.

But favors for Minho include filling a hundred balloons with his cat’s face with helium, bribing people to get Jisung a backstage pass for some rock concert to meet the band, and keying the car door of a friend’s cheating boyfriend. Strange things.

So, of course, Changbin is a little skeptical.

“Will that involve anything illegal?” he asks.

“I need you to pick Miyoung up from school, so unless you plan on robbing a bank on your way there or kidnapping some other child, you’re safe.”

Changbin pauses. “What?”

“I was supposed to get off in an hour but meeting with a client got pushed back, so I have to stay,” Minho explains. “And you know Jisung is in Daegu. I’d ask our babysitter but I know she has exams these days so I don’t wanna bother her.”

That is the mildest, most normal request he has ever heard from Minho. That’s why, Changbin thinks, there must be a catch.

“I was just about to head out to the gym,” he says, staring at his duffel bag sitting there on the floor, waiting to be picked up.

“You’ll live one day without lifting,” Minho argues, and Changbin can’t see him, but he can tell Minho is rolling his eyes. “Or you can carry Miyoung to the car if you’re that desperate for a workout. She loves that. You’ll score brownie points.”

Changbin’s brownie points with Miyoung amount to a whopping zero. Maybe three if he’s being generous with himself. His birthday presents rocked these past few years, and he took her out for waffles once, but that was with Chan, so he’s not sure if it counts. He’s still recovering from that one instance when his funny faces—which were obviously supposed to make Miyoung burst out laughing—made her cry when she was three years old. Jisung told him he’d traumatized her forever.

The point is, he isn’t one of those very present uncles, even though he wishes he was. Children make him feel awkward—attending to their needs isn’t instinctual to him. He’s the youngest child of the family, so he’s always been the one doted on. He never had to take care of any younger siblings or cousins or any children, really. And Miyoung seems, just like other kids, incredibly small, fragile, and breakable. Moody, too.

He really doesn’t know how Minho and Jisung do this.

“Seriously, Changbin, she won’t eat you alive,” Minho says, which—well, Changbin isn’t sure about that. “You’re my last resort.”

“Last resort?” he echoes. Now, he just feels offended. He thinks that might’ve been Minho’s intention because he bursts out laughing when Changbin asks, “When do I gotta be there?”

“Her class ends at five,” Minho says. “You just have to go inside, get her from her classroom, and then take her home. I already told her teacher that I won’t be the one picking her up today. I’ll send him your picture to make sure he doesn’t think you’re a criminal trying to kidnap her.”

Changbin groans. “At least make sure it’s a normal picture.”

“Oh, hm. Yes, I’ll make sure to choose something very attractive.”

He can practically hear Minho’s grin through the phone. Knowing him, it will be the least flattering photo he can fish out of his gallery. And he has tons of material.

“I’ll be home around six. Six-thirty, maybe. Depends on how quickly I’m done here.”

That means that Changbin has to spend at least an hour taking care of Miyoung. He needs to figure out how to minimize the chance of doing something wrong. He still has time to do a quick search online for the things an eight-year-old girl might enjoy. Cats, definitely, but Changbin has to take antihistamines every day to even get anywhere near the Han-Lee household, so he’s already fighting a losing battle. Unicorns? Maybe, but he’s not gonna find a unicorn in Seoul at an hour’s notice. Same with bumper cars. Drawing, animated movies, karaoke, colorful board games.

Now that Changbin thinks about it, she likes everything Minho and Jisung like, except she’s over two decades younger and probably complains less when something doesn’t turn out the way she wants it to.

“What am I supposed to do with her for so long?”

“She’ll let you know what she wants to do,” Minho says. “I trust you to keep her from jumping off the stairs or climbing into the oven. There’s food in the fridge, so make sure to feed her and eat something yourself, too.”

“Can I take her out for ice-cream?”

Minho lets out a thoughtful hum but then says, “Maybe just grab some at the convenience store?”

“You just want some too,” Changbin teases. He downs the remainder of his shake and starts making his way to the bedroom to change out of his gym clothes.

“Well, yes, so make sure to pick a good flavor,” Minho says, like it should be obvious. There’s commotion at the other end of the line, Minho’s voice sounding faraway as he tells someone he’ll be there in five, and then back to normal when he speaks to Changbin again. “Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll send you everything you need to know in a second. I really appreciate you doing this. Seriously.”

Changbin hums as he opens the door of his closet. “Don’t mention it. Hope the meeting goes well.”

“Yeah, me too. Say hi to Miyoung from me.”

In his usual fashion, Minho hangs up before Changbin can get another word in. Changbin sighs, locks his phone, and tosses it onto his bed. He still has around an hour before he has to get going, so he just grabs a pair of jeans and a dark, washed-out crewneck and leaves them on the bed while he takes out the trash and loads the dishwasher. He even manages to do the laundry, all because he has nothing to do with himself, and an hour isn’t enough time to get started on anything he might have to abandon midway through.

Minho texts him all of the necessary information for him to make his way to Miyoung’s class without any issues, but Changbin’s heart is still racing when he steps out of his car. He tries to hurry because the traffic was worse than his phone showed, so it’s 17:03 by the time he stands in front of the school’s front door. He has to press the VISITORS button on the intercom to be let in by the staff and then wait for them to check if his name is on the list. Minho called beforehand, so it has to be. However, as normal people do, he worries that something didn’t go quite right and his name is not on the list and they’re going to call the police and put him in jail for attempted break-in and kidnapping—

They buzz him in without problems.

Slightly less nervous, Changbin pushes the door open and walks inside. He tells the person at the reception that he’s looking for Miyoung and they explain where he can find her even though Minho explained very well where Changbin needed to go.

He takes the stairs up to the top floor, telling himself it’s as good of a workout as he’s gonna get today. His eyes scan the plaques next to the doors, but what leads him to the right classroom isn’t a sign. It’s Miyoung’s voice, but it’s too far for him to make out the words. Then comes the bright, loud laugh that seems too grown-up to come from a student.

Changbin follows the sounds, sticking his head inside the classroom first to make sure he’s in the right place. Miyoung and another student—her friend, judging by their animated conversation—are washing their hands by the sink in the small adjacent room in the back. They’re giggling, too loud and too preoccupied with each other to notice him walk in.

Changbin’s eyes land on the adult in the room—a guy with long hair pulled back into a ponytail crouching down in front of one of the cabinets under the window and rearranging something inside. Probably painting supplies by the look of the sheets of paper strewn all around the room to dry.

Changbin knocks against the doorframe to announce his presence, and almost falls inside head-first when the man looks over his shoulder. Fuck is his first thought. The man—the teacher, Changbin supposes—is beautiful.

Changbin instinctively straightens up as the man’s gaze rakes across his figure, taking him in. He definitely does not lean his palm against the doorframe and flex his bicep, though. He wishes he put on a T-shirt instead of a crewneck, but even under the long sleeves, his arms look good, he knows. He’s a little unwell in the head, but that’s what you get trying to impress pretty people.

He thinks he succeeds, because, for one reason or another, the man’s mouth falls open when their eyes meet. Maybe the flexing was unnecessary. Changbin’s face is pretty hot in itself.

They finally put an end to the staring match after what feels like long, blissful minutes. The world might as well have stopped, Changbin wouldn’t even notice. He steps inside.

“Hi!” the man greets, pushing himself up into a standing position and striding across the classroom to meet Changbin half-way. His legs are long. “You must be, uh—”

Changbin smiles his best smile. “Seo Changbin. Miyoung’s uncle.”

“Right. Minho-ssi told me you’d be picking her up today,” the man says with a nod. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. I teach Arts.”

Even without the introduction or previous knowledge of what class Changbin is supposed to pick up Miyoung from, it would be hard to assume otherwise. Hyunjin has a beige apron hanging off his neck and tied around his waist, colorful splatters of paint all over the fabric. There’s a speck of yellow in his hair, too, and Changbin has to force the corners of his mouth down at the sight of it.

Cute, he thinks. Right off the bat, Hyunjin seems like one of those teachers from the movies. A little wild, artfully scattered all over the place, dizzyingly charming, and beautiful.

“Sorry, I’m running a bit late,” Changbin says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s my first time picking Miyoung up, so I didn’t account for the traffic around the school and finding the classroom.”

Hyunjin laughs. It sounds like running through a field of flowers, butterflies dashing past, bees buzzing in your ear.

“No problem. As you can see, you’d probably have to wait, anyway,” he says, glancing at the girls, still in the backroom. Probably just wasting soap and water at this point. “Miyoung and Soohyun always insist on helping with the clean-up after class.”

The girls choose that exact moment to run out of the backroom, holding what looks like a million brushes each in their tight little fists.

“Hey, what did I tell you guys?” Hyunjin scolds immediately. “No running around.”

They break into a simultaneous, Sorry, Hyunjin-ssaem, and then they seem to snap out of their little world of mischief and mayhem and they notice Hyunjin isn’t alone.

Miyoung’s eyes widen when they land on him. “Uncle Binnie!” she calls out, and to his surprise, she abandons the brushes she was holding on the nearest desk and runs over to wrap herself around his legs.

“Hey there, princess,” Changbin says, resting a hand between her shoulder blades. Now he just feels bad for being so anxious. “Your dad has to stay a bit longer at work, so he sent me to take you home.”

“Cool!” She looks up at him with her big, brown, doe eyes and asks, “Can I stay for a bit and help ssaem and Soohyunie clean up?”

Changbin says, “Sure.”

“We can manage by ourselves, right, Soohyun?” Hyunjin says, looking at the girl in confirmation. She doesn’t look very convinced, though. She probably wants her friend to stick around a moment longer.

And who is Changbin to deny her?

“We’re not in a rush,” he says. “I can help out, too, if you let me.”

He’s a nice person, but he’s not that selfless, alright. He wants to make a good impression on Hyunjin-ssaem. And by the looks of it—Hyunjin’s smile and that glint in his eyes—he’s doing a pretty good job at that.

Miyoung seems happy, too, so Changbin is getting brownie points on all fronts. She and Soohyun dash off to dry the brushes and put them back in their rightful places while Hyunjin enlists Changbin’s help putting the paint tubes and jars back into their boxes and then into the cabinet he was crouching in front of earlier.

Changbin doesn’t really know how to use his current surroundings—painting supplies—to flirt, so he opts for something more casual. A conversation one would have with a cashier at the grocery store. 

“The weather’s been getting better, hasn’t it?” 

Hyunjin grins, and maybe he can see past the pretense. Changbin isn’t trying too hard to conceal his interest.

“That’s true,” Hyunjin says, taking another tube of paint that Changbin hands him over. The box is full, so he opens another one to store away the rest of them. If he notices how slowly Changbin is going, he doesn’t comment on it. “I’ve been thinking of taking the class outside one of these days, but it’s still a bit unpredictable, isn’t it? It feels like it can rain any second even when it’s sunny.”

“Something’s telling me the kids would have even more fun if you went out and it suddenly started raining,” Changbin says, giving himself a mental pat on the back when Hyunjin laughs. 

“Oh, definitely. Most of them would probably refuse to go back inside, too. Instead of crayons or paint, we’d be using mud.”

Changbin hums thoughtfully. “That does sound like a fun project. The clean-up would be horrendous, but it certainly would be fun.”

He reaches for another tube sitting on the desk blindly, but he fumbles around for a moment and comes up empty-handed in the end. He’s been too busy staring to notice they’re almost done cleaning up. His cheeks color when Hyunjin locks his eyes with him, but Changbin pushes through the embarrassment and reaches for the stack of white plastic palettes to hand over.

Hyunjin smiles. “Now I feel more compelled to have them try it,” he says. “Maybe during the last class of the year. If they behave for the rest of the semester.”

Changbin laughs. “Tough feat. My class would not have gotten a privilege like this.”

“Oh, really? What, were you an elementary school troublemaker?” Hyunjin asks with a grin, a curious glint in his eye. 

“Me? Never,” Changbin feigns innocence. “It was the other kids, you see. I was the nerdy kid getting top scores in maths.” 

Hyunjin says, “I don’t quite believe that. You seem like you were popular in school.” 

“Well—” Changbin starts, and makes Hyunjin laugh. It sounds like something he would want to burn onto a CD and play in the car on his way to work every day. Infectious and warm. “Not in elementary school, though!”

He doesn’t get to elaborate, because Soohyun’s mom comes to get her, and Hyunjin gets distracted talking to her. They have just finished cleaning up the classroom, so Changbin and Miyoung have no more excuses to stick around, either.

Changbin mourns that this is all he gets when he’s so enamoured with Hyunjin, especially after their short but easy conversation, and foolishly hopes that, somehow, they will see each other again. It doesn’t feel appropriate to ask him for his number here and now, no matter how much Changbin’s mouth longs to do it.

He takes Miyoung’s pink-and-green backpack, slinging it over his own shoulder, and slowly makes his way to the door. Lingers.

“Bye-bye, ssaem,” Miyoung says.

“Bye, see you next week,” Hyunjin says, his smile sweet and gentle. Then, his eyes flit up to meet Changbin’s gaze. “Goodbye, Changbin-ssi.”

He echoes the goodbye with a fluttering feeling in his chest. It’s been a while since the simple sound of his name in another person’s mouth made him feel all unbalanced and fond like this. He’s not sure what to make of it, really.

As he and Miyoung make their way out of the school, Changbin feels relieved, slightly nervous, and infatuated. Relieved, because he has successfully managed to pick Miyoung up from school. Slightly nervous, because he still needs to get her home safely and take care of her for another hour. Infatuated, because Hyunjin-ssaem is stunning, and kind, with a gorgeous smile and a cute little mole under his eye that Changbin has no idea why he noticed. 

Changbin loads Miyoung into the car, making sure she’s snug and safe in the backseat, and talks to her about her day at school. She chatters on, satisfied with the way he poses questions here and there, until they get to the grocery store. They get grape juice because Miyoung wants some and a tub of chocolate ice-cream to eat after dinner, and she skips back to the car like it’s the best day ever. 

When they get home, they’re greeted by Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. The cats are happy to see Miyoung, but only Dori trusts Changbin enough to nuzzle against his calves and greet him. Minho says they hate him because they can smell that he’s not just allergic but also a dog person and he should be lucky they’re well-behaved enough not to have pissed in his shoes yet. 

“Do you wanna eat dinner now or are you not hungry yet?”

Miyoung lets out a long, thoughtful hum. “I want to eat now,” she says. “I can eat ice-cream sooner that way, no?”

Changbin laughs. “That’s the deal.”

Doongie trots upstairs after Miyoung while she gets changed out of her uniform but Soonie and Dori follow Changbin everywhere he goes like they’re watching him, whether it’s to the kitchen to store the ice-cream in the freezer or to the bathroom to wash his hands. Tough crowd. 

Changbin looks for the dinner Minho talked about over the phone—roasted braised duck with rice and vegetables on the side, wow—and starts heating it up. He’s a frequent guest, so he knows how to move around the fancy kitchen, thank god. 

It’s when he and Miyoung are sitting at the dinner table, enjoying the meal profusely, that Changbin relaxes enough for his thoughts to travel back to Hyunjin. Not a good sign, he thinks. He should’ve forgotten about him and his melodious laughter the moment he stepped foot out of that classroom. 

But he can’t, and he’s a bit pathetic about it, too, so while Miyoung is minding her own business ravishing the roasted carrots, Changbin off-handedly—stupidly—says, “So. Hyunjin-ssaem. Do you like him?” 

Miyoung looks up at him, her eyes narrowed in a kind of suspicion that makes her look like Minho in ways that shouldn’t be biologically possible. However, she’s not yet as evil as her father, so her expression quickly morphs into excitement. 

“He’s really, really cool!” she says. “He can dance and he has a dog, he’s really cute.”

Changbin assumes the last comment refers to the dog, but he nods, thinking, Yes, Hyunjin-ssaem is really cute. It also makes sense that he dances; he certainly has the build for it.

He wants to ask some more questions, but at the same time, he doesn’t know how to bite it. And—well, he doesn’t think it’s quite right to interrogate a child to get a head-start on his romantic advances. For all he knows, he might never see Hyunjin-ssaem ever again.

After dinner, Miyoung asks if she can watch cartoons, and because Changbin is a responsible adult, he makes sure if she doesn’t have homework to do for tomorrow. She fusses around, trying to trick him, but he gives her a look and says, “Come on, let’s take a look at it together and then we’ll eat ice-cream.” 

She groans like she’s being physically tortured, but she proceeds to drag herself up the stairs to get her textbooks. Changbin once again thinks that she’s just a bite-sized version of Minho and Jisung. This house will become a circus when she’s a teenager.

He takes care of the dishes while he waits and almost gets a heart attack when he turns around and sees Soonie staring at him from the floor. You’re still here, peasant? his wise eyes seem to ask. Changbin knows the cats have an automatic feeder set up for them, and if they were hungry, they would be wailing so loudly the entire neighbourhood would have to bear witness to the horrors. 

“Sorry, I’m sure hyung will be here soon,” Changbin says, speaking cutely, but he doesn’t dare reach out to scratch Soonie behind the ear.

Soonie chirps like he understands what he’s saying (which is a bit freaky, but—not that surprising considering these cats live with two weirdos and one tiny human who will probably grow up to be a cute little weirdo), and then trots away. 

“Okay,” Changbin says to himself. 

He looks at Miyoung’s class schedule—it’s pinned to the fridge with a colorful magnet brought from Melbourne. He means to check what classes she has tomorrow to make sure she does all her homework, but his eyes find Arts instead. Miyoung only has it on Thursdays. 

He wonders if it would be ridiculous if he picked her up next week too. To take the load off Minho and Jisung, of course. Not for some selfish, nefarious reason. Not at all.

Changbin didn’t lie about being a Maths nerd, and together with Miyoung, who’s unsurprisingly smart, they breeze through the few exercises she has to do. She also has to read a short story, and Changbin says he wants to hear it too, so she lets out a tormented sigh and reads it out loud. 

“Can I watch cartoons now?” she asks when she’s done.

Changbin grins. “Sure. What do you want me to put on?”

“Scooby-Doo,” she says, gathering her books off the dinner table to take them back upstairs. “And don’t forget about the ice-cream, Uncle!” 

She exchanges her textbooks for paper and crayons, insisting that Changbin needs to draw with her too. They relocate to the coffee table in front of the TV with bowls of ice-cream. Changbin just hopes she doesn’t end up on a sugar high because then Minho will murder him with his bare hands. 

He’s not sure when was the last time he watched cartoons and drew cute little animals, but he’s having fun, even though Miyoung doesn’t shy away from making fun of his drawings. “Not everyone can be gifted in art,” that’s what he tells her. 

Miyoung says, “Then you should take lessons. Drawing is fun!” 

Changbin hates that his thoughts immediately zero in on Hyunjin. He’s not going to ask an elementary school teacher to give him private drawing lessons. He’s not that desperate. He also has some leftover dignity. 

“Maybe you should teach me,” he tells Miyoung.

She gives him a look. “How much are you paying?”

Changbin’s mouth falls open. “What do you mean, How much are you paying? You should take care of your uncle like that out of the sheer kindness of your heart, kid.”

“Daddy says I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to,” she says, and—Changbin can’t exactly argue with that. He wishes he could apply that rule in his adult life as well. “But then he also tells me I have to be nice or I won’t get a new bike for my birthday so I guess I can teach you.”

Changbin laughs. He doesn’t really understand why he’s always so nervous around her. Kids kind of freak him out, but she’s cool. 

Minho comes home around six-forty. Miyoung peels herself off the couch and zooms to the entryway the moment she hears the door open and Minho call out, “Hey, anyone home?”

Changbin smiles. He hears them say hi, and then Minho is groaning, probably picking Miyoung up to hug her. “Did you have fun with Uncle Changbin?” he asks, whispering theatrically. 

Changbin tries not to preen and cry out of sheer relief and happiness when Miyoung says, “Yeah! He’s really funny!”

She’s clinging to Minho’s legs, her arms around his waist, when they waddle inside like penguins. It’s really cute. Changbin sometimes can’t believe that Minho is so cute. Fatherhood has changed him. Jisung would disagree and say he has always been cute, but Changbin has known him longer, so he knows better.

Minho looks tired, but the first thing he does is ask, “Did you guys eat?” 

“Mhm. We’re watching Zootopia now,” Changbin says. 

Minho gasps. “I love Zootopia.” 

Of course, everyone in the world knows that. He never lets anyone forget. He loves it because he was wearing Judy’s costume when he met Jisung, dressed as Nick, during a Halloween Party in university. He’s a huge sap.

Changbin thinks that now it’s time for him to head back home, but before he can voice that out, Minho asks him if he wants to stay. 

“I’ve got beer,” he says. “Alcohol-free.”

And, well, Changbin can’t really say no. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and when Miyoung jumps back onto the couch beside him, he realizes he also just wants to stay. 

Before they unpause the movie, they wait for Minho to get changed, greet the cats, and come back with two bottles of beer and a box of juice for Miyoung. 

Changbin brings Hyunjin up with Minho, too, when Miyoung is washing up before bed upstairs. He’s a master of subtlety, though. He says that if they need him to pick her up from school, he’s available.

Minho narrows his eyes at him, the same exact way Miyoung did earlier. 

“You were practically crying when I asked you earlier,” he points out. And before Changbin can respond to that, say that he was just unfamiliar with how easy it was, the realization dawns on Minho and he grins like the devil. “You think the teacher’s hot, don’t you?” 

Changbin splutters. 

“He gets that a lot, I think,” Minho says, laughing at his expression. “You should see the parents’ group chat. Whew. Those moms want to jump his bones. I am so serious.”

“Don’t make me start feeling bad,” Changbin says. He wants to jump Hyunjin’s bones, too, and—he realizes—he’s being very pathetic and very obvious about it.

“At least you’re not married with a kid,” Minho reasons. “You already have a bigger chance to go out with him than all of them combined.”

Changbin sighs. He knows it’s silly. He has just met Hyunjin today and spent approximately ten minutes with him (and two eight-year-olds) cleaning up painting supplies. But he hasn’t felt a pull like this towards a person in a long time, and he would like nothing more than to get to know him. Outside of the classroom, preferably. 

“Did you at least really send him a normal picture of me?” he asks.

“Duh.” Minho gives him a look that says, Who do you think I am? “I sent that shirtless one from when we went to the beach.”

Changbin’s eyes almost pop out of his sockets. “What?!”

“Jeez, calm down, you’re gonna wake up my kid,” Minho says, chastising, but with a twisted little grin on his mouth. He’s evil. “I’m just kidding. It was that picture of you holding Dori in front of the Christmas tree to make you look caring and not like a criminal.”

“Wait, really?” Changbin likes that picture. He’s wearing a Santa hat in it—the cat is, too—and a simple black T-shirt that hugs his biceps just right. He looks hot in it. “Wow, you really are a wingman.”

“Of course. I have to be nice to my dongsaeng,” Minho says, And, anyway, if you do f-u-c-k him—” he spells the word out, even though Miyoung is upstairs, “—you’ll finally make use of those pink panties I gave you for your birthday.”

Changbin’s jaw drops. 

・・・・・

Even before Changbin can make up an excuse and ask to do it, Minho enlists his help picking Miyoung up from school again next Thursday. You get to see your loverboy, and I get an hour alone with mine, he says over the phone. Everyone’s happy. 

Hours later, Changbin still struggles to dispel the images of his friends getting it on from his mind, but he is happy. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin, his thoughts chant. A part of him actually considered he might get over the infatuation after a few days of not seeing him, but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him all week. 

It’s been a torture. 

He even tried finding Hyunjin on social media, but when he finally came across a profile that could have belonged to him, it was private. Changbin might be a bit crazy, but not enough to send him a follow request. 

He has made sure to arrive at the school early today, but this time around, he finds the right classroom without any issues, so he’s there a few moments after the clock strikes five and the kids start piling out. The door is flung open, letting the quiet chatter spill out into the hallway. Changbin comes to a stop in the doorway and takes a peek, just in case the whole class had moved to another room in the span of the four minutes it took him to walk here from the front door.

Inside, the desks are pushed together to form one big table, the scarce students left scattered around with Hyunjin at the head of it. There’s a huge, gigantic navy blue canvas spread in the middle, and they all seem to be working hard on decorating it with splashes of yellow and white.

Changbin is in the right place. 

Hyunjin must notice him out of the corner of his eye, because the moment he appears in the doorway, he looks up. And smiles. Oh, fuck. 

“Changbin-ssi!” he says, blissfully unaware of the way Changbin’s stomach flips, pleased that he remembers his name.

Miyoung’s head snaps up at the sound. She’s sitting with her back to the door, so she has to turn around to check that it’s him, but when she makes sure that it’s the right Changbin and not some random guy wearing his name, she breaks into a smile that almost splits her face in two. 

It warms his heart. He should take her out for waffles when the weather is nice. He needs to get back in the race for that #1 Uncle title. 

“Hi,” Changbin says, stepping inside the classroom tentatively. The four other kids don’t seem to pay him any attention, too engulfed by their task. “Are you ready to head home, Miyoung-ah?” 

“Not yet. I’m not done with my stars!” she pouts. And—fuck, alright. He understands now why Minho and Jisung spoil the life out of her. Those Bambi eyes are lethal. 

“I mean, I’m not in a rush,” Changbin says, scratching the back of his neck. “I can go wait—”

“Nonsense,” Hyunjin interrupts, his smile inviting. “You can sit here if you want. You can help us with the stars, actually.”

Changbin barks out a laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m not really good at drawing.”

Miyoung says, “He really isn’t, ssaem.” 

Changbin’s jaw drops, but then Hyunjin laughs, and he’s not so offended anymore. 

“Good thing I’m a teacher,” he says. “Come on, Changbin-ssi.” 

He makes space beside himself, and Changbin has to stifle his own excitement as he pulls in a chair. Too close. He drags it a few centimeters away. 

“What is this even for?” he asks as he sits down. “A group project?”

“We’re doing a play!” one of the kids, a boy with a wild mess of hair and a missing tooth, says. 

The night sky is part of the decorations, Changbin learns. The screenplay was put together by another teacher after they all brainstormed in class, coming up with how the story should progress and what funny lines they could sneak in there to make the audience laugh. They’re trying to do as much as they possibly can themselves, and that includes decorations. 

Changbin is honored that they’re allowing his untalented hands to take part in the project, but he’s really nervous as he grabs a brush and dips it in yellow paint. He doesn’t want to destroy their hard work. He fears the kids would gang up on him and murder him, and Miyoung would lead the rebellion.

He’s trying to copy the kids as he paints his star—ten strokes, not so easy but doable—but it still comes out wonky and ugly.

Hyunjin laughs like this is the most amusing thing he has seen in his entire life. His eyes turn into crescents. His pink, glossy mouth stretched out in a gorgeous, radiant smile. He starts clapping. 

Changbin can take the humiliation of being a worse painter than a bunch of eight-year-olds if Hyunjin keeps laughing at him like that. He does not give a fuck. 

“Miyoung was right,” Hyunjin says once he calms down, although his mouth remains twisted with amusement he can’t quite conceal. Then, he leans into Changbin’s space. He glances at his hand, still holding that brush dipped in yellow, and asks, “Can I?” 

Changbin is nodding before he knows what he’s even agreeing to. Hyunjin scoots his chair over closer and gently takes hold of Changbin’s hand, slowly guiding his movements.

“It’s easier if you draw it like this,” he says quietly, his breath warm against Changbin’s cheek. Five strokes. One-two-three-four-five, and he’s letting go. “See? You don’t even have to lift your hand off the paper. And then you can just fill it in, and it’s perfect.”

Changbin can’t tear his eyes away from him. He doesn’t know what it is that makes Hyunjin so captivating—his deep, mellow voice, his pretty face, or that sweet disposition, this encouraging glint in his eye. It makes Changbin want to do everything he asks—and more.

Hyunjin watches closely as he attempts to paint another star. To no one’s surprise, that only serves to make Changbin even more nervous. He somehow manages to make it look presentable, though. Even the kid sitting next to him says it looks much better than the first one. 

But nothing is as rewarding as Hyunjin’s smile, the way he reaches out and gives Changbin’s upper arm a soft squeeze. He’s pulling away before Changbin realizes what’s happening, and once Hyunjin’s hand is gone, his skin tingles with warmth. 

All of the four kids get picked up within the next ten to fifteen minutes, so Changbin and Miyoung are once again the last ones to leave. Even though Hyunjin insists they can go, they stick around to help him clean up the paint and brushes. They leave the canvas spread across the desks to dry.

“Maybe next week we can try adding some clouds?” Miyoung proposes, her big doe eyes looking up at Hyunjin pleadingly. 

Hyunjin laughs. “I was planning to give you guys a little break from the play and do something else, but sure, if that’s what you want.”

Nobody is immune to Bambi.

“Yay! Thanks, ssaem!” 

She runs to get her backpack from the back of the classroom, leaving the two of them alone. 

Changbin shoves his hands into the front pockets of his pants, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He shouldn’t feel so nervous, but there’s something about Hyunjin that renders him uncharacteristically flustered. 

“Are you going to be the one picking Miyoung up after my class from now on?” Hyunjin asks, hip cocked to lean against his desk. He looks unbelievably hot like this, with his apron still on and a few rouge strands of hair escaping his artful ponytail. 

“I don’t know. I might. I’m usually free around this time, and if my picking her up helps her dads, I’ll gladly do it.”

It has nothing to do with the fact that it will allow him to see Hyunjin and hopefully build at least a thread of familiarity between them, something that will make him feel comfortable and confident enough to ask him out. 

Hyunjin smiles. “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you, then.” 

Changbin’s heart flutters pathetically. He laughs so that he doesn’t do something stupid, like disregard all his plans to take it slow and ask Hyunjin for his hand in marriage right here and now.

“Me too,” he says casually. “Especially if that means I can get free star-painting lessons.”

Hyunjin ducks his head, laughing. “Maybe next time we can move onto something more complicated,” he proposes, and all Changbin can think is: next time, next time, next time. “You’re a fast learner.”

“That’s because you’re a good teacher,” Changbin says, and he’s not even actively trying to flirt, but it comes out that way.

Hyunjin blushes. He opens his mouth to say something, and goosebumps rise on Changbin’s skin with anticipation, but Miyoung chooses that particular moment to finally drag herself back to them, and he seems to discard whatever he meant to say in favor of saying goodbye. 

“I’ll see you next week, Miyoung,” he tells her, mouth curling up into a smile. Then, he looks back up at Changbin, and he’s still smiling, but it just feels and looks—different. “Hopefully you too, Changbin-ssi.”

Changbin says, “See you next week.”

He will be here even if Minho and Jisung make fun of him for it.

Once they’re out of the classroom, he teases Miyoung saying, “You’re such a teacher’s pet.”

He uses his free hand to pat the crown of her head fondly as the other holds onto her backpack, and grins when she looks up at him, her expression blank. 

“You’re not even a student and you’re trying to be a teacher’s pet too,” she says with deadpan delivery. 

Changbin almost trips and falls down the stairs. “What?” he asks, gawking at her. 

Miyoung giggles. “You like ssaem,” she sing-songs, loud. Her voice carries up and down the stairwell and hits Changbin like an echo made of bricks. He shushes her, but she just starts laughing louder. “You like him sooooooo much.”

She’s so annoying. She’s Minho and Jisung, flesh and blood. He’s not sure who she takes after more, because every time Changbin looks, there’s something he recognizes in her that he has already known for years. They have clearly poured all the best of them into her.

When he watches her, he sometimes thinks, Could I do this? Could I be a father? and he never knows the answer, but there’s been this tugging in his chest lately, something in him longing for a house with a big garden and a child’s laughter and a person he loves by his side.

He’s getting old and sentimental.

“Shut it,” he says to Miyoung, though he can’t even force his voice to sound stern, so it comes out flat and makes her laugh all over again. His face must look like a tomato right now, he’s sure, and he tries to fight the embarrassment as they pass people on their way through the school. 

Getting bullied by an eight-year-old for having a crush. Things like this can only happen to Changbin. God.

He makes sure Miyoung’s seatbelt is fastened in the backseat and then circles the car around to get behind the wheel, but he doesn’t immediately turn the key in the ignition. He—thinks. Considers his options. Considers that he might need a tiny little divine intervention. 

Changbin isn’t proud of what he does next.

He turns around to look at Miyoung and asks, “Do you mind telling a little white lie to help me?”

She squints at him, suspicious. “To who?”

“I’ll buy you a whole tub of ice-cream and give you 50.000 won if you tell Hyunjin-ssaem that your uncle Changbin is the best.”

Miyoung’s eyes widen. Then, she bats her eyelashes at him and grins. “But that wouldn’t be a lie, Uncle.” 

Changbin laughs. “Good one, kiddo, but 50.000 is the final offer. And you can’t tell your dads. They would tease your uncle a lot,” he says. More, like, they would never, ever let him live it down. “So. Are you in?”

Miyoung pretends to zip up her mouth. “I’m in.”

“You gotta be casual about it, though,” Changbin tells her. “Weave it into the conversation well and all that, Miyoung-ah.”

“Daddy made me say that I wanted to go to Spain for holidays when he and Dad were trying to choose between that and Greece,” Miyoung says. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I have experience.”

Changbin can’t believe this kid is real. 

He drives her home and makes sure to be extra loud when he opens the front door and calls out, “We’re here!”

But he doesn’t need to worry about his friends being indecent, because they’re both in the living room, having coffee in their disgusting matching married people mugs with cats of all shapes and colors drawn on them. Ew. 

Miyoung climbs onto the couch, digging her bony knees into their thighs, and hugs them tightly. Changbin tears up, just a little. He comes closer to sit on the armrest for a moment. 

“Did Uncle drive under the speed limit?” Jisung asks, wrapping his arms around her tightly enough to make her squeak like a cat toy. 

“Hey, I always drive under the speed limit,” Changbin argues. He pokes at the bruise under Jisung’s collarbone revealed by the slipping collar of his T-shirt, embarrassing him easily. Call that early payback for the incoming teasing he knows he’ll get because of his crush on Hyunjin. “Especially when I’ve got precious cargo on board.”

Miyoung giggles, happy to be called precious and even happier when Changbin reaches over to poke her belly. “It was fun,” she says. “We were making the night sky for the play and Hyunjin-ssaem taught Uncle how to paint stars.”

Changbin’s mouth falls open in surprise at the sheer and immediate betrayal, while Jisung breaks into his oohing and aahing and Minho says, Oh, really? He hates those little shits.

“I think Uncle Changbin should stay for dinner and tell us all about it,” Minho adds, pushing himself off the couch to start cleaning up their almost empty coffee mugs. “We’re having pizza tonight.”

Changbin gives him a look. “I would rather not,” he says.

But then Miyoung pouts at him with those awful Bambi eyes and he almost—almost caves in. He’s strong, though. He needs to preserve his dignity a little longer. Another week, at least. 

He manages to narrowly escape the Han-Lee household, but just as he’s making his way out, Jisung calls out from the living room: “Same time next week?” and then he and Minho both laugh like it’s the funniest thing that has happened to them in the last five years. 

He hates them.

・・・・・

Changbin picks Miyoung up again next week. That morning, he completely disregards sneakiness. They all know why he wants to do it—aside from wanting to be a good Uncle to Miyoung. So he just sends Minho a message, I’ll take care of Miyoung today, and Minho replies withㅋㅋㅋ okay. 

The classroom is all tidied-up after the lesson, empty except for Miyoung and Hyunjin. Seems like everyone hurried up and picked the kids up right away, because Changbin is at the door only a few minutes past five. 

While Miyoung is perched on top of one of the tables lining up against the wall, idly staring out the window, Hyunjin is sitting behind his own desk, scribbling something down in a notebook. A planner, maybe. He looks like one of those people who use those leatherbound, old-school planners. 

Changbin raps his knuckles against the doorframe to announce his arrival. Both Miyoung and Hyunjin snap their heads in his direction, and he says, “Hi, princess,” except his eyes kind of slide off Miyoung as he speaks, locking with Hyunjin’s instead, so it looks like he’s saying it to him. Obviously, everyone in the room knows he’s not, but Changbin blushes furiously like he is. 

Can Hyunjin just go out with him already? He might die out of sheer embarrassment before it finally feels all good and appropriate to ask him. He’s not built for any of this.

“Uncle!” Miyoung greets, sliding off the table and running up to wrap herself around his legs. He instinctively pats her on the head, smoothing down the hair sticking out of her ponytail. 

“Changbin-ssi, it’s good to see you,” Hyunjin says, abandoning his notebook and coming up to meet them half-way, where Changbin can be charmed by the glint in his eyes and the warmth of his smile from up close. “I’m sorry you didn’t make it in time for a painting class. We finished a little earlier today.”

Changbin juts his lips out in an exaggerated pout. “Oh, no. Did you end up painting clouds like you said last week?”

“We used sponges to do it,” Miyoung says, her eyes as wide as saucers. “It was so cool.”

“I bet it was,” Changbin agrees, but the jealousy he feels deep in his stomach has nothing to do with fun painting techniques and everything to do with Hyunjin. He looks back up, only to find Hyunjin already staring. Maybe those few centimeters of height Hyunjin has on him shouldn’t affect him so much, but Changbin feels a little hot under the collar of his T-shirt. “I’m sad I missed it. But maybe some other time. . .” 

“Definitely,” Hyunjin says, his smile inviting and bright. “We’ll do it again soon, I’m sure.”

Changbin wishes he would say something stupid, like, Don’t worry, I can give you a private lesson, just let me know when you’re free—but Hyunjin clearly has more self-restraint. Or less interest—except every time they lock eyes, Changbin can tell the attraction is mutual.

This time around, somehow, they end up heading out together. It’s just that Changbin lingers, and Hyunjin grabs his bag from the back of his chair, and they leave the classroom in tandem, like it’s an unspoken agreement. 

Miyoung hops ahead of them, lost in her own world, probably thinking of what she’ll have for dinner or which cat will run to greet her first, and Changbin can slow down to match Hyunjin’s footsteps while still keeping an eye on her. 

He can’t quite think it through or bite his tongue in time. He fixes the strap of Miyoung’s backpack on his shoulder and glances at Hyunjin to gauge his reaction as he casually asks, “Do you maybe need a ride home?” 

He doesn’t even stop to think whether his car is tidy enough—it should be, but you never know. Maybe a vicious troll is slipping empty protein bar wrappers inside as they speak, all to embarrass him. He just wants Hyunjin to say yes. He wants to prolong their parting ways, because it seems that they never have enough time to really strike up a normal conversation—something that doesn’t revolve around pseudo painting lessons.

But before he can even begin to really hope, Hyunjin says, “I’d love to, but I’m actually meeting my mom at the station so that we can see the Chagall exhibition at the SAC.” He pouts a bit. “I’ll have to get a raincheck on it today but I will take you up on the offer some other time. Maybe. If that’s okay.”

Instead of feeling down about how it’s not going to happen today, Changbin wants to jump up to the ceiling from joy just thinking about giving Hyunjin a ride home in the future. It’s profoundly embarrassing. But he holds himself together, and all he does is say, “Of course it’s okay. I’m happy to give you a ride whenever you need.”

Hyunjin laughs, his nose scrunching in a way that makes him look even cuter than usual. “You’re really—You’re really something else, Changbin-ssi,” he says. In his mouth, it sounds like a compliment. He throws Changbin a lop-sided grin, and something almost fond glitters in his eyes. 

Miyoung waits for them to catch up before pushing the front door open because she’s a smart, well-behaved kid. As well-behaved as one can be when they throw, “Wow, you really walk so slowly.” 

Changbin says, Hey! while Hyunjin just laughs. He guesses they should be happy she didn’t straight-up call them old. He wouldn’t put it past her.

“She’s really funny,” Hyunjin tells him. “It’s not often that I see kids so confident and outspoken, but at the same time really sensitive and empathetic. Most of the time they’re either one or the other, and it’s confidence to the point of really pushing other people’s boundaries or sensitivity that closes them up.”

“That’s what happens when your dads raise you not to take shit from anyone while being a kind princess,” Changbin says, laughing. “She’s really lucky to have found a home with them. They love her more than anything in the world.”

“It shows,” Hyunjin says. 

Changbin wants to ask if Hyunjin sees himself as a father, if he wants to have children, if he feels like that’s what the future holds for him—but he neither has the time nor the willingness to jump into deep waters this way. That’s a strange thing to ask someone, he supposes. They barely know each other, despite the fact that it feels otherwise. 

They come to a stop at the end of the stone stairs in front of the school and Changbin says, “Have fun at the exhibition.”

Hyunjin beams at him. “Thanks, I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” he says. He looks so excited that Changbin’s fingers tingle with the need to research the art exhibitions happening in Seoul to take him to every single one of them. “Drive safely.” And then, to Miyoung—“See you next week.”

“Bye-bye, ssaem!”

The only reason why Changbin doesn’t linger to watch Hyunjin go until he disappears down the street is because Miyoung is eager to get on the road. Jisung promised her they’d play Just Dance, she says, so she needs to be home soon.

They’re already out on the main street when Miyoung suddenly says, “Ssaem was asking about you today.”

Changbin’s grip around the wheel tightens without him really meaning to, heart tripping into a quicker beat. He glances at her in the rearview mirror. “He was?”

Miyoung nods. “He asked if you were going to pick me up. And he was happy when I told him yes.”

“Really?” Changbin preens, sitting up straighter, his surprise melting into a mixture of relief and sheer happiness. 

Miyoung hums. “I think he likes you.”

She says it so casually, like she doesn’t realize just how much it means to Changbin. All the while his crush begins feeling lethal. He likes Hyunjin so much, it’s actually profoundly embarrassing.

The confirmation that he’s not seeing things, even if it comes from an eight-year-old, puts a spring in his step for the remainder of the day. 

After that, it becomes tradition for him to come and get Miyoung from school on Thursdays. He even reschedules a meeting once so that he can make it on time, which he refuses to confess to anyone. Both Minho and Jisung are usually home by then, so they would have no problem picking her up like they used to until last month, but Changbin still offers to do it for them. He’s sure they make fun of him for it, but they don’t excessively do it to his face, so he doesn’t care. He reminded them, You can have the house to yourselves for almost an hour every Thursday. Longer if you let me take her out for ice-cream or something else. Stop whining. And they stopped.

And after hearing that Hyunjin actually asked about him, Changbin stops feeling like he might be doing something weird or unwanted. Hyunjin seems happy to see him every week, but—you never know. Maybe Changbin has gone crazy. This feels like a relief.

Art is Miyoung’s favorite class, so she’s always hanging back and dragging her feet. Changbin adores her for it. When she insists on staying just two more minutes to finish her drawing, he can steal another moment with Hyunjin. Help him straighten out the desks or put the crayons away.

And he can talk to him while they wait for Miyoung to grab her backpack. 

“How are the play preparations going?” 

“Really good!” Hyunjin says, sending Changbin a brief smile as he packs up his things. “Seungmin—that’s the other teacher—is starting the rehearsals. I’m just responsible for the decorations and the costumes, so, you know, it’s not my turn yet, but I’m starting to get nervous.” 

Changbin hums in understanding. “There’s still a lot of time, no? I’m sure everything will turn out just fine,” he says. “And if you need any help, I’m here. As you already know, I’m very talented in the arts department.”

Hyunjin laughs. He straight-up giggles. The sound rushes through Changbin’s veins like electricity surging through a livewire. Dizzying. Fatal.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, slipping his stylish messenger bag onto his shoulder. He looks like an off-duty model, which is crazy considering that he’s actually an elementary school teacher, it’s past five o’clock, and he must be exhausted after dealing with kids all day. 

Changbin clears his throat. “Hey, listen—” he starts, fiddling with his car keys, “—how about that ride home today?” 

Hyunjin drags his teeth over his bottom lip pensively, drawing Changbin’s eyes. The way it bounces makes his brain feel like it’s melting inside his skull, just heat, no thoughts. It should be illegal to have a pair of lips so tempting. Changbin wants to run his thumb across that mouth, feel the plush beneath his fingertips. He wants to kiss him until his lips are all red and bruised and loved. 

He has to physically force himself to return back to reality by digging his nails into his palm. These are dangerous thoughts to be thinking right here, right now. He’s only been allowing himself those kinds of fantasies in the privacy of his own home. Certainly not in front of the main character of his thinly-veiled desires.

“Are you sure it’s not a problem?” Hyunjin asks, because he’s sweet and kind and he doesn’t want to be a bother. “You don’t even know where I live. It might as well be on the outskirts of the city.”

Changbin waves a dismissive hand, his mouth quirking up in a barely suppressed smile. “Eh. We have time. Right, Miyoung-ah?” he asks as she runs up to them, her bag finally packed and ready. 

“For what?” she asks.

“We’re going on a trip,” Changbin says, taking her backpack. “We’re dropping Hyunjin-ssaem off at his home.”

“Really? Cool!” Miyoung says, but aside from mild excitement because, duh, it’s her favorite teacher, she seems otherwise unfazed. 

She once again leaves them behind—or maybe it’s them who drag their feet to steal yet another moment together. Changbin notices the acrylic charm dangling off Hyunjin’s bag, reaches out to flick it, and says it’s cute. He doesn’t believe anyone would carry around a picture of a random pet unless it was a meme, so he assumes it’s Hyunjin’s own dog. Miyoung did say he had one.

“Ah, that’s my dog, Kkami,” Hyunjin confirms, looking at the keyring fondly. “I’ve had him since high school, he’s so old. My cute grandpa.” 

Changbin smiles. “He looks a little rowdy. Like he bites.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Oh, definitely. It’s pretty hard to steal his heart. He only really likes me, my parents, and one of my friends.”

Changbin gives him a grin. “I’m sure he’d like me.” 

Hyunjin laughs at the display of overconfidence, but he ends up agreeing. “And you? Do you have any pets?”

“Oh, no, I’m severely allergic to anything that has fur,” Changbin says regretfully. But before Hyunjin can write him off, he’s quick to add: “I do take meds every day, because, you know, Miyoung’s family has three cats, I’m sure she can’t keep quiet about that, and I’m over at their house pretty often, so it’s a necessity. I can spend time in a place with fur for a few hours, but after that it just gets really bad so I can’t have a pet full-time.”

Hyunjin hums. He looks a little down, and Changbin doesn’t let himself dream that it’s because he couldn’t be Kkami’s second dad.

“You can always get a lizard. Or fish. I’ve heard they make for surprisingly good company.”

They walk out of the school and into the comfortable late-May warmth of the afternoon. There aren’t many cars left in the parking lot behind the school, and Miyoung is familiar with Changbin’s Urus to the point of reciting his plates just for fun, so she finds it easily. 

When she runs up to the car, Hyunjin says, “Hm. Somehow, this is exactly what I imagined.”

Changbin makes a noise of confusion in the back of his throat, brain short-circuiting at the notion of Hyunjin imagining anything about him. “What do you mean?”

“I assumed you’d drive something big. An SUV. It just makes sense.”

“Something big.” Changbin feigns offense, just to tease him a little. “To make up for my height?”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait. He must be able to tell that Changbin doesn’t get upset over things like this easily. “To match your vibe,” he says. “You have a powerful vibe.”

Changbin laughs, but his cheeks still feel hot. If he reached out to touch them right now, his hands would be left blistered. 

He doesn’t know what to say to that. A powerful vibe. People tend to say he carries himself with the confidence of someone who knows they’re important, but that has never felt like compliment the way it does coming out of Hyunjin’s mouth. 

Once Miyoung is buckled-up in the backseat and the two of them are comfortable inside the car, Changbin gives Hyunjin his phone so that he can type his address into the Naver maps. 

“Hm. It’s on our way,” Changbin says once Hyunjin hands the device back and he can check out the address. He mounts the phone to the holder to look at the road even though he could probably get there without the navigation; he knows the area well enough. He sends Hyunjin a smile. “See? Not a problem.”

“If you’re sure,” Hyunjin says, like he’s not entirely convinced. Like he doesn’t realize Changbin would rent an airplane and fly him across the world himself if that’s where he needed to be. 

Finally, Changbin starts the car and drives out of the parking lot to the soundtrack of some cheesy love song playing on the radio. Incredibly fitting, he thinks as he glances over at Hyunjin, who looks comfortable in the passenger seat. Like he belongs right here. 

“So,” Changbin starts, “are you doing anything fun this weekend?”

Hyunjin hums. “If sleeping this entire week off can be considered fun, then yes, I am,” he says, shifting his body slightly to the side so that Changbin can see him grin—or maybe so that he can see Changbin better. Both, most likely. “I might force a friend to hang out with me on Sunday, but Saturday is always for staying in. Maybe going out for a walk if I’m feeling particularly alive. How about you?”

“My Saturday’s gonna look the same as yours, I think—” Changbin throws him a smile, “—but then on Sunday I’m having dinner with my family,” he says. “My sister’s coming back from an almost two-month-long trip across Europe with her girlfriend, so it’s gonna be a feast.”

“Wow, that actually sounds really fun,” Hyunjin says. There’s an audible longing in his voice, like this is just not a mundane part of his reality. Changbin wonders: does he have siblings? Is his family big? Does he get along with them? “Have you already met the girlfriend?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ve been together for ages. She’s part of the family already,” Changbin says, and he, too, sinks into an odd sense of longing.

Watching his friends and family members settle down, get married, and have kids is messing with his head. It feels like he’s the only bachelor in his vicinity. It’s an exaggeration, but—it feels like it. Changbin would like to be a husband. He would like to introduce someone he cherishes to his family and have them poke fun at how smitten and in love he is, at how his person is just as enamoured with him.

He’s been in a few serious relationships throughout his twenties, but he stepped into his thirties alone. By no means does he think he needs to rush to settle down, but it would be nice to just—have someone to plan the future with. Someone to share wishful thoughts and saccharine-sweet dreams with.

He glances at Hyunjin again, and realizes just how much he wants that person to be him. Having a crush is debilitating.

“She’s a photographer—” he carries on, like he hasn’t accidentally cornered himself into a state too emotional for the moment, “—so we’re probably gonna get a whole slideshow from the trip. It’ll be fun, but I’m afraid I won’t get home until the morning hours.”

Hyunjin laughs. “At least you’ll eat well, no?” 

“Mhm.” Changbin pulls to a stop at a red light. “And then I’ll slip into a food coma under the table while my sister is talking about the Northern Lights in Iceland.”

They grin at each other, and for a moment it feels like nothing in the world exists except for the two of them. Changbin blinks. He can’t be imagining the way Hyunjin’s eyes slide down to his mouth. How his tongue slides across his own lips like he’s unconsciously searching for a taste he doesn’t even know.

Changbin almost misses the light turning back to green, that’s how entranced he is. He remembers they’re not alone and immediately berates himself for letting his brainworms fester when he’s got a kid under his care.

“And you, Miyoung-ah?” Hyunjin asks in what Changbin has learnt to be his teacher voice. Inquisitive and encouraging.  “Are you doing anything fun?”

Miyoung tears her eyes away from the window to announce, “I’m going to the zoo if the weather’s nice. Daddy said that they’re finally letting people see the newborn otters.”

It’s so on-point for Jisung to keep track of animals being born at the zoo, Changbin can’t even be surprised.

“Huh,” he says, already putting on his most offended expression. “And you didn’t invite your Uncle Binnie?” 

“Will Uncle Binnie pay for tickets?” Miyoung asks. 

Changbin says, “For you and I, maybe. Your dads are mean.”

He can see Miyoung grin in the rearview mirror. “Because they tease you about—”

“O-okay!” Changbin interrupts, to Miyoung’s utmost delight. She breaks into a fit of giggles like she hasn’t just endangered Changbin’s entire existence. He knows she wouldn’t actually rat him out, she’s too smart for that, and the fact that she’s teasing him so daringly makes him love her so much more. What a kid, he can’t believe it. “I’m taking my offer back, you little demon,” he says, but there’s no bite to it, not really. More fondness, which she easily picks up on because she laughs even louder.

Hyunjin strains his neck to look between the two of them, confused and amused in equal measure. “I feel like I’m missing some important context here,” he says.

Changbin just grins. “Nope, you’re definitely not.”

Hyunjin doesn’t look like he’s actually feeling left out, more like he’s just enjoying the silly back-and-forth between him and Miyoung, so Changbin doesn’t fret. 

To his utmost despair and disappointment, it only takes another ten minutes for them to reach Hyunjin’s apartment building. They spend every second of that time talking about the last time they were at the zoo (for both Hyunjin and Changbin, it’s been ages and so Miyoung suggests they should go together—Changbin holds his breath, but Hyunjin just grins at him and says, “Yes, we totally should.”).

It’s a nice complex—the subway station is just a five-minute walk away, there’s a 7-Eleven right around the corner, and Changbin is pretty sure you can see the Han River if you live on one of the upper floors. He itches to know which floor Hyunjin lives on. What his apartment looks like. If he always takes the elevator or challenges himself to walk up the stairs once a week. When did he move in? Does he plan to stay?

There are so many questions, and this is not the right time to ask any of them. 

Normally, Changbin would walk him up to the door. He’s a gentleman. But he doesn’t want to leave Miyoung in the car alone even for a minute, so he has to settle for this: turning to Hyunjin with an expression he hopes says, I’m seriously so happy to drive you home, please let me do it again. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Hyunjin says, his smile enough to give Changbin pathetic, juvenile butterflies. “This was definitely more fun than a subway ride.”

“Duh, of course it was,” Changbin says, scoffing performatively. “We’re a great company, aren’t we, Miyoung-ah?” 

“Yes we are!” she says from the backseat. 

Somehow, it’s so much harder to say goodbye like this. Changbin would feel stupid about it if he couldn’t see Hyunjin linger—take forever unbuckling his seatbelt, making sure he’s got his bag in his hands. 

It almost makes Changbin say, Hey, maybe we could spend our lazy Saturday together instead? But he doesn’t want to ask Hyunjin out in front of Miyoung. He loves her, but—no. He sighs and thinks, Another time. 

He watches Hyunjin walk up to the front door and only starts the car again when he has disappeared inside the building. It’s not logical, but it’s an instinct. Make sure he gets home safe. 

“You like Hyunjin-ssaem soooooo much,” Miyoung chirps from the backseat. “And Hyunjin-ssaem likes you.”

Changbin rolls his eyes, but his cheeks warm up all the same. “Be quiet back there, Miss Han-Lee.” 

And when he drops her off at home and Minho asks, “What took you guys so long?” Changbin disappears out the front door before Miyoung can break into a spiel about how they gave Hyunjin-ssaem a ride home. 

・・・・・

Changbin has thought of seeing Hyunjin outside the school a million times, but when their eyes lock in a park on a Tuesday afternoon, he thinks he’s just imagining it. He thinks that he really must be dealing with this crush even worse than he initially thought if he’s seeing Hyunjin in other people’s faces.

He’s not sure why it feels so improbable. Maybe because they’re closer to his apartment than they’re to Hyunjin’s. Maybe because fate should’ve made sure to make them cross paths here before. 

But no. 

It is Hyunjin.

He’s sitting on a blanket with his legs stretched out in front of him. There are sunglasses perched on top of his head and what looks like a sketchbook in his lap. Thin crayons scattered around among plastic containers of fruit—strawberries, blueberries, cubes of pineapple. He lifts a hand to wave at Changbin and smiles.

Changbin feels compelled to come closer. Encouraged to take this chance—for a greeting, maybe, if not a full-fledged conversation. He’s not greedy. 

“Changbin-ssi,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head up to look at him, a sweet inversion of what their eye-contact usually looks like. His smile somehow seems even brighter up close. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What an unexpected turn of events, truly,” Changbin agrees, making him laugh until his eyes crinkle and turn into crescents. He looks so cute like this, when he’s happy, it’s hard to think about anything else.

“Are you heading somewhere?” Hyunjin asks.

Changbin hums. “Nowhere in particular. Trying to unwind after work and all that.”

“Well,” Hyunjin says. “Do you want to unwind sitting with me?” 

Oh. Changbin was slowly beginning to wonder if he should continue to hover around until it becomes awkward or just go on his merry way and leave Hyunjin in peace, but this solves the dilemma. 

He doesn’t give a verbal answer, and the moment he moves to sit down, Hyunjin’s entire demeanor seems to brighten up even more, if that’s even possible. Changbin pretends it doesn’t do anything to his heart, knowing that he’s the one making him happy. Whatever this is, this thing that exists between them, it’s taking time, but Changbin doesn’t mind. He can’t—not when the journey looks like this.  

“Let’s ditch the formality,” he proposes. It’s only fair now that they have proof of each other’s existence outside of the walls of the school. “How old are you?”

“I’m thirty,” Hyunjin says, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

It wouldn’t change anything, the two of them being of the same age, but for some reason, Changbin preens like he has just won the lottery. What can he say? He’s always been extra caring towards his younger friends.

“Call me hyung, then. I’m one year older.”

“Alright, hyung—” Hyunjin says pointedly, his mouth upturning with a grin. “What brings you here today except for the gorgeous weather?”

You, Changbin immediately thinks, like an idiot. Of course, he doesn’t say it. But it’s a Tuesday afternoon, and he doesn’t usually go out after work without a purpose, but something was telling him to change into comfortable clothes and head out. Grab dinner at a good restaurant and then take a walk. Something led him right to Hyunjin.

“Just felt like going on a stroll after work.” He looks down at Hyunjin’s lap, his sketchbook flung open on a page with an unsurprisingly accurate and beautiful drawing of a bouquet of flowers. “You?”

“Getting inspired by nature and the bustle of the city,” Hyunjin says, and maybe it’s right, maybe the blues and the purples and pinks of the sky reflect in the drawing, if Changbin really thinks about it. He wants to know more. Hyunjin nudges the plastic container of fruit towards him. “Come on, help yourself.”

Changbin reaches for one of the strawberries, taking it by the leafy part and bringing it to his mouth. He catches Hyunjin’s rapt gaze as he bites into it. The way he watches him eat makes Changbin’s entire body flush with heat. But he gets it—Hyunjin grabs a strawberry, too, and Changbin can’t help but zero in on how red his lips are after, how sweet they must taste, how much he’d like to find out. 

Hyunjin closes his sketchbook, sets it aside. All of his attention is focused on Changbin when he asks, “What do you do for work?”

“Ah. It’s pretty boring,” Changbin says, scratching the back of his neck. It’s the kind of job that pays well but isn’t necessarily what he’s dying to do for the rest of his life. “I work as a finance manager for a car dealership. Mostly, I just manage the budget and decide where the money goes. It’s a lot of data analysis and reports and planning.”

Hyunjin lets out a thoughtful hum. “I don’t know about boring,” he says. “It seems pretty cool—and definitely important. Like I said, a powerful vibe.”

Changbin laughs, but he’s glad Hyunjin seems genuinely impressed. “Is teaching your full-time job or do you do something else?” he asks.

“I teach Arts three times a week—Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays—and then on Mondays and Fridays I teach dance to teenagers in an academy,” Hyunjin explains, all casual, like this isn’t something people fantasize about in books and movies—making a living off being an artist. 

Wow, Changbin thinks, physically feeling his heart trip and fall even deeper. 

“So teaching in general is your thing,” he says, certain that his amazement is audible in his voice and visible in his face. He’s never been good at pretending, and with Hyunjin, he’s not even trying very hard to keep up the not-lovestruck appearances. “Was it, like, a calling? If not, then why did you decide to do it? I feel like I’ve only heard people say they knew that’s what they wanted to do since they were kids.”

Hyunjin tips his head to the side, considering the answer. “Is it going to make me sound like an awful person if I say that I know I’m good at what I do and I want to share that with people?” 

Changbin bites into another strawberry. His mouth tastes sweet when he says, “I don’t think it’s awful to recognize your own talents. I think confidence is sexy.”

“Oh, really?” Hyunjin asks, laughing. “Well, then, that’s why. I drew and danced all my childhood, but I didn’t think of it as, you know, a future job. I studied Economics in university, but I didn’t really like it. I signed up for a few Education courses on the side and that stuck.”

“Seems like it was a good choice,” Changbin says. “Miyoung can’t shut up about how much she loves your class and I’m sure it’s the same for dance. You’re a good teacher.”

Hyunjin ducks his head, but the blush across his cheeks is impossible to miss all the same. “Thanks. It really means a lot.”

Changbin has spent a lot of time daydreaming about all the potential scenarios of being alone with Hyunjin—outside of the school and without Miyoung in the backseat—but nothing compares to actually having him right here.

“How did that family dinner go for you?” Hyunjin asks, and Changbin has to mask his surprise at the notion that he remembered something so insignificant.

“Ah, you know. As usual. It was nice to get together after such a long time, have a drink, eat a nice meal.” He tips his head back and says, mindlessly, “Not easy being the only single person at the table, though.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Trust me, I know, though I imagine it’s worse when you have siblings,” he says, popping a pineapple cube into his mouth. “I’m an only-child in a family of only-children so my parents are really desperate to make sure I don’t end up single and lonely forever.”

There it is—an answer to one of the questions keeping Changbin up at night, served to him on a silver platter. It makes him want to smile from ear to ear.

Piece by piece, he will figure Hyunjin out.

“My parents think it’s funny to say that I should have someone by now because I’m bisexual so my dating pool is the entire world. As if that’s true—and as if it’s that simple,” Changbin says, rolling his eyes half-heartedly, his mouth twisted into a grin. If Hyunjin had any doubts about him being into men (impossible with the way Changbin’s been leering at him, but you never know), they’re all squashed now.

“Where have I heard that,” Hyunjin laughs. “Just because I’m into everyone doesn’t mean everyone is into me!” 

Changbin wants to grab his face and say, I’m into you! like a crazy person, that’s really what he wants to do. His fingers twitch. But this is so fun, the atmosphere is light and playful and they’re joking around so he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to risk it. 

“Right, they think it’s so easy,” he says instead. “Everyone I know is married or in a long-term relationship, and meeting new people is already exhausting enough without the additional romantic intentions, and I refuse to sign up for dating apps.” 

“I know, right?” Hyunjin huffs, his shoulders sagging with exasperation. “At this point I’ve accepted that if it happens, it’s gonna happen naturally. Maybe it’s my being romantic, maybe it’s my being lazy. I’ll meet someone, and I’ll know.”

Hyunjin looks him right in the eye as he says it. The corners of his mouth rise almost teasingly just as Changbin’s eyes widen, his heart stuttering in his chest. 

“I get what you mean,” he says, but what he really means is I know. I know. I saw you, and I knew. And it’s stupid to be so caught-up in something that might never become anything, but as they sit there, sharing strawberries and stories about overbearing families, Changbin feels hopeful. For the first time in a while, he feels relaxed—things are going in the right direction, at their own pace.

It’s easy to talk to Hyunjin—so easy that he can imagine doing it forever. But now that they’re having an actual conversation, Hyunjin knows that Changbin isn’t a sexy, mysterious stranger—he’s an awkward weirdo with a boring management job and parents that are begging him to get married who works out too much and takes a lot of his meals in the form of a shake. 

They spend another hour like this, he thinks, just talking about everything and nothing, and Changbin is sure they’d stay even longer if his sister didn’t send him a message saying, Hey, I’m in the area, I’ll be over for coffee in twenty minutes. This is surprising, for him to get a heads-up when she usually drops by unannounced, that’s usually how it is with them. But he feels bad that he has to go. If it wasn’t his sister, he’d say he was out and wasn’t sure when he’d be back. But it’s Jaehee, and she’ll never let him live it down if she finds out he ditched her for a guy. 

“I think I’ll get going too,” Hyunjin says. “I still have to do groceries for the week. I’ve been living on take-out for the last five days.” 

Changbin can relate, except he doesn’t actually remember the last time he ate a meal he cooked on his own. Unless ramyeon with a boiled egg counts—but that was a while ago, too. 

If the two of them become a couple (when, when, when, his thoughts chant), they need to work on their eating habits. It’s easier to eat well when you have someone looking out for you.

He folds the blanket for Hyunjin while he packs up his crayons and sketchbook, and then they stand there for a moment awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. Changbin would gladly give him a goodbye hug, but he’s not sure if they’re there yet. He’s sure they’re not, actually. 

“I’ll see you on Thursday, right, hyung?” Hyunjin says, his eyes hopeful.

“Right.” Changbin smiles.

The good mood doesn’t leave him for the remainder of the day.

・・・・・

Changbin is running late.

The traffic was relentless because of an accident a few blocks away from the school, and on top of that, he fell asleep earlier, so he took off from home over ten minutes later than he usually would. He had a late lunch and put on a boring movie and he fell asleep. That never happens with him, so he was annoyed even before he got stuck slugging it through the traffic jam.

When he finally gets to Miyoung’s classroom, the only thing he finds is a sign on the door. The class is in the auditorium! Sorry for the inconvenience, it says, punctuated with a sad face. Changbin thinks it’s cute at the moment, that little doodle, but then he gets frustrated with himself all over again because—where the hell is the auditorium? He needs to go back to the reception desk and ask, which makes him even more late.

He pushes the auditorium door open with too much verve. The room is already empty by then, save for Hyunjin and Miyoung, who both whip around toward the entrance, startled. Hyunjin is standing on the stage, hands on his hips, his back facing the door, while Miyoung is sitting in one of the chairs in the first row with a notebook and a pencil. She brightens up when she sees Changbin, but she doesn’t look like she’s been worried. 

Changbin hurries down the steps to get to her, and Hyunjin meets him half-way, hopping off the stage like it’s his second nature, which it probably is. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Changbin says. He sounds a little out-of-breath. He’s embarrassed—he always makes sure to be early or at least on-time—and annoyed with himself—because he should’ve set up an alarm, or he should’ve not fallen asleep. He reaches out to put a hand on top of Miyoung’s head, caressing her softly. “I’m sorry.”

But Hyunjin just smiles at him. “It’s fine, hyung. We’re fine. Right, Miyoung-ah?” he asks.

And he’s right—she looks unbothered by his tardiness, like she knew and had no doubts that Changbin would be here for her, which of course she knew.

“I’m trying to envision the decorations, and it’s hard to do during rehearsals when everyone’s running around the stage, so I had to stay a bit longer anyway,” Hyunjin explains. 

Changbin nods. Logically, it makes sense. And if Hyunjin was worried or in a rush, he would probably reach out to Minho or Jisung to find out when someone was going to pick Miyoung up. Still—he’s not entirely convinced. Without wanting to, he’s being an inconvenience.

He takes a few deep breaths, making Hyunjin chuckle. He reaches out to touch Changbin’s shoulder, and a zap of electricity passes through them. Hyunjin still doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Hey, let me tell you what I’m thinking about the scenography, and you can catch your breath, yeah?” he says, and even though it’s obvious Hyunjin doesn’t mean to do that, Changbin’s embarrassment deepens. “Miyoung is drawing anyway. You’ll be fine if I talk to your uncle for a moment?”

Miyoung hums. She’s already nose-deep in her drawing again. Changbin glances at the notebook in her lap, catching sight of a winter landscape. He makes an impressed noise in the back of his throat at the amount of detail. She’s really good.

Then, he follows Hyunjin up the steps onto the stage. He does not stare at Hyunjin’s ass. Okay, maybe just a little. But it’s right there in front of his face and these jeans he’s wearing are not helping. 

Changbin is supposed to be calming down, and yet his heart rate is skyrocketing again. Fuck. 

“So, we already have most of the scenography, like the day and night backdrop, and we started making trees last week,” Hyunjin says, gesturing over to the corner of the stage. 

He explains the concept of the play to Changbin in more detail: it’s about a town terrorized by a dragon that seeks help from a witch that lives in the mountains to tame it. Then, it turns out that the dragon was just hurt and in pain, but it couldn’t communicate with humans, so they were scared of it. It actually sounds fun, Changbin has to admit. Miyoung doesn’t want to tell him (or her dads, for what it’s worth) what role she’s playing—she said he needed to come and see the play himself. 

“We’re still missing a few things, but it’s not something we can make in class,” Hyunjin says. “No hammers and nails allowed, you know?”

Changbin doesn’t even think twice. He doesn’t even think once. His mouth opens before he knows what he’s really doing. He says, “I can help.”

Hyunjin laughs, sweet and bright. “You don’t have to do that, hyung,” he says. His hand comes up to Changbin’s arm and he gives it a grateful squeeze. Lingers. They’re standing so close Changbin can smell his perfume—roses and spice. “You’re not even a parent.”

“But I’m an uncle. If it’s for Miyoung, I’ll help.” Changbin shrugs, pretending that his arm isn’t burning where Hyunjin has touched him. “So. What do you need?”

Hyunjin regards him for a moment, like he’s trying to gauge if Changbin is being a hundred percent serious. He relents, sighing in defeat, when Changbin smiles at him.

“It’s not much,” he promises, as if Changbin’s going to back off if he hears about the workload. “It’s mostly just about nailing together frames so that we can pin what we painted, like the witch’s tower or the houses, to them.”

“That sounds doable,” Changbin says. It’s not like he’s a master of building, but he put together every piece of furniture at his apartment, so going at a few planks with a screw gun can’t be that hard.

“Okay, so how about I give you my number?” 

Changbin’s eyes widen. His number? He’s not sure what for and why now instead of, like, those few weeks ago when they ran into each other in the park, but—okay. Changbin will take it. He will take it happily. 

Hyunjin must notice his surprise because he says, “So that we can go to the hardware store together.”

“Oh,” Changbin says, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s no problem, actually. I can go on my own.”

Hyunjin stares at him for a second too long. “I insist.”

“O-okay.”

He probably has to make sure Changbin doesn’t buy the wrong thing—or he has to use the school’s card to pay. 

Changbin pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, opens his Contacts, and hands the device over so that Hyunjin can type his number in. He sees Hyunjin’s fingers hesitate on the name. In the end, he writes himself down as Hwang Hyunjin (Miyoung’s teacher), which Changbin finds cute, for some reason. He finds a lot of things Hyunjin does cute. 

He sends Hyunjin a smiley emoji to make sure he has his number too, just in case Changbin chickens out or spends five hours wondering how to start the conversation and if Hey, this is Changbin! sounds too stupid. 

“I don’t want to hold you up any longer,” Hyunjin says, as if all this time, they’ve been here because of him and not because Changbin was late. “Are you free to go this Saturday?”

Changbin doesn’t even remember what his calendar looks like when he says, “Yes, I should be.” 

“Great.” Hyunjin smiles. “I’ll text you and we can figure out when and where to go.”

Changbin is buzzing with anticipation and unable to let his mind settle all throughout Friday. It’s a miracle he can sleep at all, but he still wakes earlier than usual on Saturday. They agree it’s best to go in the morning, before the masses flock in, so by 8:15, he’s already waiting in the parking lot by Hyunjin’s apartment. 

He can spend a moment watching Hyunjin as he tries to locate Changbin’s car and then as he strides toward him with a smile on his face that widens when he slips into the passenger seat. He looks pretty in a pair of brown suede shorts, a light jacket to match, and a white T-shirt underneath, although the sigh of his bare legs is a bit distracting.

Changbin is gonna have to be triple careful not to let his eyes stray from the road as he drives, it seems.

“Thanks for doing this with me, hyung,” Hyunjin says, pushing his long hair out of his face with a pair of sunglasses, letting them rest on top of his head stylishly. “I’m sure there are a million more fun things you could be doing right now, so thank you, seriously.”

But he’s wrong. 

Going to a hardware store with Hyunjin to buy a bunch of planks and screws is the peak of Changbin’s dreams. Unironically. 

When they get everything they need—which, lamentably, doesn’t take long—the employee says everything will be waiting for them at the register so they can keep browsing other things, and Hyunjin turns to Changbin with a smile. 

“Do you want to just. . . walk around?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eye. He doesn’t seem to realize that Changbin would gladly go and debate between pine and cedar with him all over again.

“Let’s go,” Changbin says.

They make their way back to the front of the store so that they can walk through every aisle. They point at paint colors they like or fancy tiles they would never, ever use for their bathrooms, and every time Changbin says something even mildly funny, Hyunjin laughs, leaning against him like he can barely hold himself up. 

The peak of Changbin’s dreams. 

Hyunjin sees things he likes and says, “Oh, this is cute,” and that’s enough to make Changbin want to give him the entire world. Buy him anything he wants. An industrial-style nightstand lamp? Yes. A toothbrush holder meant to look like it was made of amber? Yes. Paw Patrol sheets he points at because there are kids he teaches that always manage to sneak this cartoon into the art they make in class? Y-e-s. 

The longing Changbin feels deep within him intensifies when they walk through the part of the store showing fake, fully-furnished rooms. He daydreams about the two of them doing this for their own apartment, choosing the floors and the curtains and the perfect shade of green of the carpet. He imagines every day when Hyunjin says, “I don’t really cook, but I could probably start if I had a kitchen like that,” or when he asks, “What do you prefer for a bathroom, shower or tub?” and Changbin says, “Both,” thinking thoughts that should not be allowed to be thought in public. 

It’s detrimental to his health, but it feels so good.

At one point, Hyunjin gets so tired from all the walking that he lies down on a queen-sized bed in one of those fake rooms. “Oh my god,” he says, closing his eyes blissfully. “This mattress is amazing.” 

Changbin stands there next to a bookshelf filled with all kinds of trinkets, watching him with a smile on his face, taking advantage of the fact that Hyunjin can’t see the way he looks at him. He can physically feel his pupils taking the shape of two giant hearts. 

Hyunjin pats the empty space beside himself without looking, inviting Changbin to join him. To try it.

Changbin hesitates, but Hyunjin’s little grin encourages him to step forward. His breath catches in his throat as he lies down, slow and careful to leave a respectful amount of space between them.

Hyunjin turns to face him. “It’s comfortable, right, hyung?”

Despite his best efforts, they’re so close, Changbin can see nothing more than his face. His beautiful sparkling eyes and his pink mouth.

His chest hurts with the desire to close that little bit of distance between them; to risk everything for one kiss.

Changbin holds back. He says, stupidly, “Like lying on a cloud in heaven.”

Hyunjin laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

He ends up grabbing a few candles for himself. “I love candles,” he says. “Every room in my apartment has candles. Even the bathroom.” 

It’s like he actually wants Changbin to imagine him taking a bubble bath in the dimmed, romantic light of a hundred candles. He might actually die. 

They manage to fit all the planks into the trunk of Changbin’s car without a hitch. Hyunjin says, “We can take this to the school so you don’t have to worry about them. It should be open at this hour.”

At the school, Hyunjin gets the janitor to open the auditorium’s side door, and the two of them carry everything into the storage room down the hallway. He’s not sure how they’re gonna go about putting the decorations together, but Changbin doesn’t mind either coming in early or staying late to do it. 

“Do you wanna grab coffee?” Hyunjin asks as they’re making their way back to Changbin’s car. “My treat. For your help.”

Changbin would kill to spend more time with him—and he has nothing to do today, not really—so he agrees easily. Hyunjin says he knows a good coffee shop around here, so that’s where they go. They grab a coffee and a pastry each (Hyunjin insists they need to eat something after this work-out), and occupy the table in the corner of the café, by the window.

Hyunjin laces his fingers together, his elbows propped-up on the table, and rests his chin on them. Changbin just. . . stares. Watches him watch the street outside, people bustling around, rushing from one place to another. His eyes look golden in this light, sun-kissed until they sparkle like amber. He’s so beautiful, sometimes it feels like Changbin has made him all up. 

It feels like he’s come straight out of some factory, a man created with the explicit instruction of stealing Changbin’s heart: intelligent, talented, good with kids, funny, drop-dead gorgeous. 

His gaze flits to Changbin. He catches him staring and smiles.

“I’m going to swap classes with Seungmin, the other teacher responsible for the play, this Thursday,” he says, reaching for his croissant and tearing off a piece before pressing it against his mouth. “He wants to do another rehearsal. I could get started on the scenography then, and we’d already have something when you get there. I mean, I’m not sure when you’re free—”

“I can come early,” Changbin says with a shrug. “I don’t think we’ll get it done all at once so I can stay behind one of the Thursdays, if that’s what you need.”

Miyoung won’t mind, either, he’s sure. She doesn’t have hagwon on Thursdays, so it should be fine. Worst case scenario, he’ll drive her home and come back, or Minho will come and get her like he usually does.

“Really?” Hyunjin smiles, and he looks grateful, but also taken aback. “You’ve already helped me so much, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“I’m happy to help,” Changbin insists. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it. Just let me know when you need me. It’s no problem for me to get off work earlier.”

“Ah, right. Pros of being a big shot,” Hyunjin teases, laughing when Changbin tries to kick him under the table. 

Changbin drives him home even though Hyunjin insists he’s alright with taking the subway, the station’s just a few minutes away from here. He doesn’t want to be an inconvenience, which is idiotic. 

“Thank you so much,” he says when Changbin kills the engine in the parking lot of his apartment building. “Seriously, you have no idea how much I appreciate this. You’re gonna have to let me take you out for a proper dinner after the play’s over.”

Changbin’s brain short-circuits. That sounds a lot like a date. But he plays it cool. He’s normal. He can be normal. 

“I won’t say no to that,” he tells him, punctuating the words with the worst wink anyone has ever seen.

Hyunjin blushes, ducking his head with a smile. He’s so sweet, Changbin wants to bite into his skin and see if that’s what he tastes like too.

・・・・・

Changbin shows up early next Thursday. The class hasn’t even started yet, at that point, so when he gets to the auditorium, he only finds Hyunjin and another man, who he assumes to be Seungmin. They’re discussing something by the stage, but they turn around to face the door when Changbin walks in. 

Hyunjin smiles so hard his eyes turn into crescents. It’s a sight that makes the entire universe melt. “Hyung!” he says. “You made it.”

Changbin descends the stairs, unable to hold back a smile of his own, but instead of throwing a flirty remark or saying something foolish the way his heart is telling him to, the first thing he does is hand out the coffee he has brought.

He remembered Hyunjin’s order from their little coffee shop escapade, but he also brought a regular iced americano for Seungmin. He didn’t want to be rude—he wanted to make a good impression on one of Hyunjin’s friends—and so he played it safe. Everyone drinks iced americanos.

“Wow, you’re so nice, hyung,” Hyunjin coos, and even though it’s the reaction he’s been striving for, it makes his cheeks flare up all the same. “So caring towards his dongsaengs. Thank you so much.” 

Changbin laughs. “I’m Changbin,” he says to Seungmin. “I’m Miyoung’s uncle. I mean, a family friend.”

“I’ve heard great things about you,” Seungmin says. 

“Oh.” Changbin rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sure Miyoung’s exaggerating.” 

Seungmin looks at him for a moment, not blinking, as he takes a sip of his coffee. And then, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, he says, “Not from her.” 

Hyunjin lets out an o-okay that sounds almost panicked, says, “We’re gonna get started, go bring the kids, Seungmin,” and then—grabs Changbin’s arm and leads him out of the auditorium before he can even process the words. 

Does this mean Hyunjin talks about him? Says great things about him? Or is it just—teasing laced with a little white lie, something to embarrass Hyunjin in front of an audience of one? 

His cheeks are unmissably flushed as he leads Changbin out the door and into the auditorium’s backroom that has been cleaned up a little since Saturday. To give them space to work, Changbin assumes.

“I sketched what I was thinking so that we’d have some sort of guide,” Hyunjin says, reaching for the sheets of paper lying on the table next to the tool box. He starts unfolding them, revealing his designs—virtually the same thing sketched three times, just with different signboards on top. Simple and to the point, like those lemonade stands from the movies—exactly what Changbin had imagined. “What do you think?”

Changbin smiles. “I mean, I’m just here to do whatever you tell me—” Hyunjin gives him a deadpan look then, which makes him want to laugh, “—but this looks good. It really does!”

Hyunjin lets out a soft sigh. “Like I told you, for the storefronts, we only need to make the upper part to put on the desks, so that should be easy,” he says, sweeping the hair off the back of his neck and pulling it into a short ponytail, all the while Changbin tries not to drool at the sight of him. “I just hope it turns out alright.”

“We’ll do our best,” Changbin says, patting his shoulder in encouragement. His hand lingers, ghosting across Hyunjin’s shoulderblades, and suddenly, his back seems to lose its tension. When Changbin’s hand finally returns to his side, his fingers twitch with the desperate need to touch Hyunjin again, and Hyunjin is staring. Changbin clears his throat and adds, “You can yell at me if I do an awful job, by the way. Don’t be shy.”

Hyunjin brightens up, almost as if those words purge all the remaining anxiety out of him. He grins at Changbin and says, “Noted.”

They end up dividing the work, each of them taking on one of the storefronts and deciding that whoever finishes first will get started on the third. They probably won’t manage to put together the witch’s tower today, but Changbin has already said he would gladly come and help another day, so they’re not worried about being behind schedule.

He sneaks glances at Hyunjin every now and then—but that’s only because he doesn’t want to be annoying by continuously asking if he’s doing it right, and following what Hyunjin does is easier. Definitely not because he just wants to look at Hyunjin all the time.

He’s trying to control himself and focus, alright, but it’s difficult. 

“I know I’ve said it a million times already, but I really appreciate you doing this,” Hyunjin says a few moments later. “You’re the best uncle under the sun.”

Changbin chuckles. Miyoung is only one of the reasons why he wants to help. The other one is staring at him with big sparkling eyes.

“Right,” he acquiesces, though. “When Minho hyung heard about this, he was like, You’re more involved in my kid’s school activities than me. I’m gonna have to organize a bake sale because of you.” 

He also said that he had never seen Changbin this desperate for someone’s attention before, so whatever he feels for Hyunjin, it must be strong. But Changbin can’t tell Hyunjin that.

Hyunjin laughs. “A bake sale actually isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Oh, no, hyung’s gonna kill me,” Changbin whines, already imagining Minho’s face if he ever even hears as little as a whisper about a possible bake sale. He’s immediately going to connect the dots, blame it on Changbin, and never speak to him again. 

On second thought—

Just kidding.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin says, grinning in a way that makes Changbin’s stomach swoop pleasantly. “I don’t actually organize those kinds of things, so you’re safe from his wrath with me.”

“How relieving,” Changbin says with an exaggerated sigh and a smile he’s unable to hold back. His facial muscles are going to wear and tear if he spends any more time in Hyunjin’s company. All he wants to do when he’s with him is smile from ear to ear. 

They’re not in a rush, so they take one coffee break to talk about how their week has been so far. Changbin has had a pretty uneventful one, with his boring job (Hyunjin rolls his eyes when he says that) and an embarrassing lack of hobbies that go beyond working out. The highlight of the last few days has been going out for drinks with his friends on Tuesday, which had been at least three weeks in the making—this is what being in your thirties as a working adult with responsibilities and no free time does to friendships.

Changbin got hit on at the bar, but he couldn’t even think of saying yes when she asked for his number. He said, Sorry, I’m kind of interested in someone else, and then had to stomach his friends grilling him about whether it had been just an excuse or if he really does have a crush on someone. 

Obviously, he doesn’t tell Hyunjin that, even if it would be interesting to see if he’d feel jealous at all. But he does consider it as Hyunjin looks at him, all expectant and sparkly-eyed to hear about what Changbin’s been up to.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, tells him about the student in his dance class that tripped and fell onto another kid, making that kid fall onto the next one, and so on, causing a domino effect that would’ve been funny if it didn’t end up with her twisting her ankle.

“She was so upset, it was the worst thing ever,” Hyunjin recounts, his mouth pouted and eyebrows drawn together. “I’ve been teaching for years and nothing of that sort had happened before, so I kind of panicked at first. We put some ice on it, though, she got checked out by a doctor, and her mom told me she’s already feeling better, so that’s a relief.”

“Having so many kids under your care must be so stressful,” Changbin says, thinking that if it was him—if he was a teacher—he would probably pass away from a stress-induced heart failure on his first day. Taking care of Miyoung alone is giving him enough anxiety as it is. “I respect and admire you so much.”

Hyunjin ducks his head, chuckling, like he’s trying to hide the unmistakable depth of the red flush that immediately adorns his cheeks. “Stop buttering me up, and let’s just go back to work, hyung.”

Changbin laughs at the embarrassed dismissal, finding it unreasonably cute. He could eat this man up, he swears. But Hyunjin’s word is his gospel, so he bites back the urge to tease him some more, to shower him with compliments, and returns to his task. 

He works slowly because he doesn’t want to mess anything up, so by the time he’s done putting together his storefront, Hyunjin has already gotten started on the second.

Once Hyunjin notices he’s done, though, he enlists him to help.

“Can you hold this for me?” he asks, nodding at the piece of wood that seems to refuse to stay upright. He blows his hair out of his eyes with a hint of frustration that makes him even hotter than he already is on the regular. “I can’t get it to stand straight.”

Changbin moves to help with a kind of vigour an outsider would take for genuine and ardent passion for woodwork. “Like this?” he asks, taking the plank over from Hyunjin, who hums in response and fits the nail where he wants it. 

They’re both leaning over the boards, their faces so close, just inches apart. Changbin tries not to think about it, but then Hyunjin glances up to meet his gaze, and—nearly takes Changbin’s thumb off with the hammer. 

Changbin snatches his hand away just in time while a gasp of sheer terror escapes Hyunjin’s throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” he calls out immediately, abandoning the hammer in favor of taking Changbin’s hand into his, inspecting for damage that doesn’t exist.

Changbin lets out a laugh, but his heart skips a beat. “It’s fine, you didn’t even hit me,” he reassures, but the crease between Hyunjin’s brows doesn’t disappear. 

He squeezes Changbin’s fingers, the pad of his thumb ghosting along his knuckles. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful,” he says, looking genuinely devastated, as if he’d chopped Changbin’s finger off—or worse.

It’s kind of cute. 

“Relax,” Changbin tells him, chuckling, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Hyunjin’s skin is soft, and Changbin imagines that if he pressed his nose against his palms, he would smell roses. “It’s all good.”

Hyunjin makes a sad little face, but he puts a pause on the momentary panic. He lets go of Changbin’s hand, looking surprised at himself once he realizes that he’s still holding it—or holding it at all—and reaches out to pull his ponytail loose, running his anxious fingers through his hair and then tying it back up neatly.

When they return to work, he seems more careful than before, and so they finish the third and final storefront without any injuries.

“I’ll come whenever you need me,” Changbin says, because they still have the witch’s tower to make, and he’s definitely not letting Hyunjin do it on his own. The play is next week, so they have just enough time to get everything ready.

“Hm. How about Tuesday?” Hyunjin proposes. “I’ll come after my dance classes to get the decorations out anyway, so maybe we could finish it then? Unless you can’t, that’s okay too!”

Changbin nudges him in the side and rolls his eyes so pointedly his optic nerves ache. “I’ll be there. Just text me when you’re done, and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin lets out, like the thought of Changbin driving him places is still something surprising or out-of-the-ordinary. 

“Speaking of—” Changbin adds immediately, before Hyunjin can begin to refuse because he doesn’t want to be a bother and all that idiotic crap, “—let me give you a ride home today.”

Hyunjin already knows him well enough to know that in this case, Changbin isn’t going to take no for an answer. He sighs, shaking his head in defeat, but there’s a smile playing on his mouth. Undoubtedly, he’s enjoying being taken care of this way. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces. 

They pick Miyoung up from the auditorium after the rehearsal ends, and when she realizes Hyunjin is hitching a ride with them, she lights up. It’s really sweet how much she likes him. 

When they’re walking through the parking lot, she suddenly turns to Changbin and asks, “Uncle, can we get froyo today?”

The weather is nice and warm, the sun prickling at their skin in that pleasant, beginning-of-summer way. It would be a crime not to get froyo. Surely, Minho and Jisung will forgive them for going without them.

(Doubtful. But Changbin can handle their wrath, he’s had such a good day today.)

Changbin smiles. “Yeah, just let me text your dad to let him know we’ll be home later.”

Miyoung grins, teeth and gums showing. “You’re the best,” she says, and—well. Changbin almost melts right there and there, turning into a puddle of mush on the concrete ground.

She runs off in the direction of the car, happy and carefree, skipping around like she’s having the time of her life, which she probably is. Changbin watches it with a smile on his face.

“You’re really good with her,” Hyunjin says.

Changbin blinks, turning to look at him, a little bit incredulous. “Really?” he asks, because— “I feel awkward taking care of her sometimes. I mean, she’s so big already. She’s growing so fast. I remember how small she was when they adopted her, and I just—can’t combine that with who she is today,” he admits. “I’m not really good with kids, I don’t think so. But getting to know her has been really fun. She’s an incredible girl.”

“It’s normal to be awkward. Kids are really delicate. And strange,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “But Miyoung loves you, I can tell you that with no doubt. She talks about you constantly.”

“Really?” Changbin asks, pretending that he doesn’t know. That he hasn’t put her up to this to sweeten him up in Hyunjin’s eyes.

“Mhm. She says you always take her out for ice-cream, that you give the best hugs, and she even mentioned that you dressed up as a princess for her birthday, which—by the way—I would’ve loved to see.”

Hyunjin bumps his shoulder into Changbin’s teasingly, and Changbin laughs, bringing a hand to the back of his neck to rub his nape sheepishly. This goes beyond Uncle Changbin is the best. Miyoung is good.

He needs to give her more money, he decides.

“See, you should’ve cast me in the play as the princess that needs to be saved from the dragon,” Changbin says, winking obnoxiously and making Hyunjin laugh. He reaches for his keys to unlock the car and watches Miyoung clamber into the backseat, in a rush to get a sweet treat. He glances back at Hyunjin, and he just—can’t help himself. “Do you wanna go get froyo with us?”

Hyunjin smiles sheepishly. “I’d like to, but I’m super tired, so I’d rather go home to my dog and sleep. Sorry.”

Changbin says, “What are you apologizing for? That’s the most valid reason in the world to not go somewhere.”

“But maybe some other time,” Hyunjin tells him, glancing at Changbin to gauge his reaction while casually kicking at a stray pebble.

Changbin’s stomach does a nervous somersault. “Of course. The invitation’s always on the table.”

“Always?” Hyunjin echoes, smiling now.

“Always,” Changbin reaffirms.

・・・・・

Just like he promised, Changbin comes to the school after work on Tuesday to help Hyunjin with the remaining woodwork and the setting-up of the scenography. Hyunjin plays music from one of his mellow, romantic playlists as they nail the painted canvases to their beautiful creations from the week before and laughs every time Changbin breaks into a song.

They finish late, well into the evening. Hyunjin’s stomach is growling loudly by the time they finish cleaning up, and he’s given up on trying to hide it. He just looks mildly embarrassed now, which Changbin finds beyond adorable. 

“Maybe we should go grab dinner?” Changbin proposes.

He can’t get enough of Hyunjin’s company—his laughter and his quips and how he’s much shier than he appears, with his otherworldly beauty and strong opinions. If he could, he would take him home, too. Listen to his stories until he falls asleep and then wake up to the sight of his face in the morning. 

“I know a good ramen restaurant not too far away from here,” Hyunjin says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “My treat.”

Changbin sighs, but at this point there’s nothing he could deny Hyunjin, so he relents. Next time, he thinks, imagining frozen yoghurt, coffee and pastries, and a five-course meal. 

He doesn’t know when exactly they’ve lost that mild awkwardness that used to underline all their interactions, but he’s glad it’s gone. He feels comfortable joking around with Hyunjin now, poking fun at his excitement over how delicious the food is. He looks moments away from either ascending to heaven or crawling under the table to die peacefully, and Changbin knows he’s playing it up but he still finds it incredibly funny.

It’s not a very date-like environment. The restaurant is a little cramped and it smells like a nauseating mixture of spice, broth, and countless different scents of perfume. There’s a group of office workers drinking and laughing in the corner and a bunch of highschoolers blowing their parents’ money on a delicious meal to get them through the tireless late-night hours of hagwon. 

But, still—if Changbin would let himself dream, that’s what it would be. 

“I’m thinking of taking Miyoung’s class out for an interactive exhibition to celebrate the end of the school year,” Hyunjin says. “I need to send out an email and see if the parents are up for it, though.”

“Oh, do you think there might be a problem?” Changbin asks, popping a rice cake into his mouth. He’s not sure about other parents, but if there’s anything he knows about Minho and Jisung, it’s that they want Miyoung to see and experience everything there is about the world, be it castles that look straight out of Disney fairytales or fun art exhibitions.

“Everyone was enthusiastic when we did it a few months ago and the kids absolutely loved it, so I’m hopeful there won’t be any.”

“Well, if you need a chaperone, you know I’m available,” Changbin says, only half-joking. He would probably chicken out or—worse, embarrass himself by appearing entirely incompetent.

“I don’t think the school would allow someone who’s not a teacher to tag along, but I appreciate the offer,” Hyunjin says. He props his chin up on his hand to watch Changbin almost. . . fondly. “Are you enjoying the food?”

Changbin hums, smiling. “Everything’s delicious.” 

“We should come back here another time then,” Hyunjin proposes, clearly gauging his reaction, as if Changbin hasn’t been making it clear that he would go wherever the hell Hyunjin wants him. “There’s a noraebang on the corner. Do you like singing?”

“Duh,” Changbin scoffs. “How is that even a question?”

Hyunjin laughs, his eyes crinkling sweetly. “Well, then, we need to do that too.”

When they’re done eating, Changbin drives Hyunjin home. This time around, since they’re alone, he walks him all the way up to the front door of his building. Hyunjin laughs when he realizes Changbin’s getting out of the car with him, but he looks pleased. He doesn’t argue that Changbin doesn’t have to do it, that it’s not necessary; he just enjoys the company and drags his feet to prolong their parting the same way Changbin does. 

“You’ll come to see the play, right?” he asks.

Changbin already told his boss he needs to get off work earlier on Friday and handled an entire evening of Minho and Jisung teasing him about how he had never before felt the need to attend any of Miyoung’s school shows until Hyunjin came along, so. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says. “I’ve worked hard on the scenography, after all!” 

His words drag a laugh out of Hyunjin. “Yes, you have. And I’m really thankful for it.” 

“You’ve said that a million times already,” Changbin reminds him, embarrassed, but it does feel nice to be constantly showered with appreciation like this—especially by Hyunjin, who he likes so much and whose opinion really, really matters to him. “I was happy to help and I will be happy to help whenever you need me. Even after Miyoung graduates your class.”

Hyunjin’s smile is disarming. 

They come to a stop in front of the entrance to his apartment building, and it’s almost as if neither of them knows how to say goodbye. The ideal scenario would be pulling Hyunjin into a long-overdue kiss, but the truth is, Changbin is still afraid of making things awkward between them, and if anything goes wrong, he can’t quite disappear from Hyunjin’s life without a trace with the play still ahead of them.

He pushes past the searing ache in his chest and forces himself to wait. He’s been holding back for months, and the play is this Friday—he can bide his time daydreaming about Hyunjin’s mouth until then.

“Well,” he starts, rocking on the balls of his feet, “I should probably get going.”

Hyunjin purses his mouth like he wants to say something, maybe ask him to stay a moment longer, ask him to come upstairs, but then nods in agreement. “I’ll see you on Thursday, right?”

Changbin bristles. “I actually have an important meeting at work, so I won’t be picking Miyoung up this week.”

Hyunjin’s face clouds at the words, but he quickly collects himself. “Friday, then. Don’t disappear without saying hi, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Changbin says. 

It wasn’t a date, he tells himself as he drives home. It didn’t mean anything. But the butterflies in his stomach tell a different story.

・・・・・

Changbin comes to the play more dressed-up than usual, with his burgundy shirt and its first few buttons left open and his loose black pants that still cling to his legs in all the right places. A little on the racy side, but still appropriate for the occasion.

Minho and Jisung are already in the auditorium, saving a seat for him, of course. They’ve whipped out a camera to record the whole thing, and now Jisung is fussing around it, setting it up to fit the entire stage in the frame. Minho lifts his hands up in surrender and sits down, leaving him to his own devices, just as Changbin makes it to their row.

“Hey there, loverboy,” Minho says, dragging out his syllables teasingly. He gives Changbin a once-over and grins like the devil. “You clean up nice.” 

“Are you trying to attract some lonely divorcés, hyung?” Jisung asks from where he’s still fiddling with the camera settings. He’s biting his lip, though it does nothing to suppress that awful smirk of his.

Changbin takes his seat with a kind of calmness his cardiologist would approve of. At this point, he’s used to the jabs and teasing, especially those coming from these two. His hardship and adversity.

“I’m making the effort to look elegant for your daughter,” he says, even though it’s not the entire truth and they all know it. 

“Hey,” Minho says, smacking Changbin’s thigh in defense of his casual attire—a collared sweatshirt and a pair of loose, comfortable pants. “I already have to wear suits all day. I’m not gonna torture myself here, too.”

“And you still look perfect,” Jisung says, the number one Lee Minho defender, even when no offense has taken place. “In fact, you could wear a trash bag and you’d still out-handsome anyone in this room.”

“Except for you,” Minho says, attempting to wink at him in his usual, over-the-top fashion.

“I mean, of course, that was implied,” Jisung counters, winking right back.

Changbin immediately and explicitly retches, no pretense. And then, when they lean in to sneak a kiss, he actually turns away, pretending he doesn’t know who they are. Couples who actually still like each other after years of marriage are awful. But Minho and Jisung are positively lovesick, down-bad, obsessed—and thus worse than any other couple Changbin knows.

(He wishes he had something like that. Ha.)

The auditorium is practically full by the time the lights go out. Parents, teachers, little kids in the front rows—the attendance is impressive. Slowly, the murmur of conversation in the audience dies down, and the curtain begins sliding open. 

The play is—well, fantastic. The scenography has turned out great, the costumes look professionally done, and everyone is adorable, especially when some of the kids forget their lines and fumble around until their teacher whispers the next word from the first row.

Miyoung is a star, even though Changbin is obviously biased. She plays one of the townsfolk, so her role is pretty small, but then at the end she starts dancing and hopping around with the witch and Changbin tears up, that’s how cute he finds her. 

He’s pretty sure Jisung is full-on weeping on the other side of Minho, so he feels a bit better about getting all emotional. 

At the end, when all the kids pile onto the stage to give their final bow, everyone erupts in vivacious applause. Changbin claps along like a normal person, laughing when Minho and Jisung begin waving like crazy so that Miyoung can see them in the audience. Her entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

But then Hyunjin comes out, joining the kids along with Seungmin, the other teacher, and Changbin almost leaps out of his chair. So much for acting like a normal person. 

“Gosh,” Jisung snickers—to Minho, but loudly and pointedly enough for Changbin to hear him as well. “He could at least pretend he’s here for the kids.”

They wait for the crowd to thin out before making their way down the stairs, to the stage. Miyoung comes running. She jumps right into Jisung’s arms and he squeezes her so hard she lets out a squeak and then laughs. 

“Oh, you were so great, princess, we’re so proud of you,” he tells her just before kissing her entire face. 

Minho watches them with a look on his face that Changbin would categorize as simultaneously elated, tearfully emotional, and absolutely in love. It’s far from the first time he’s seeing it, but something about it is arresting to Changbin—it makes him pause and, worse, it makes him long. 

“Daddy panicked and transferred everything off the camera to his computer to make sure he would have enough space to film every second,” Minho says, reaching out to rub Miyoung’s back. “Good job, baby.” 

They pamper her with love and praise for another twenty million minutes, but the moment her feet touch the ground, she turns to Changbin and he reaches out for a high-five. She laughs and swings her arm back to smack his palm as hard as she possibly can.

He pretends it stings more than it does to make her laugh and then says, “You really were the best. Uncle needs to take you out for ice-cream as a reward, no?”

“Yeah, you do!” Miyoung beams from ear to ear. “And let’s take ssaem too.”

“Jesus,” Changbin says, hiding his face in his hands, while Minho and Jisung start cackling. 

Miyoung looks between them. She seems a little confused, which makes sense—she just likes Hyunjin, and she knows Changbin does too. She doesn’t mean to tease him like that, he doesn’t think so, but she still grins when Minho pats her head, proud of her for embarrassing the hell out of Changbin. 

“No, I agree. They did a great job with the scenography, your uncle and ssaem, no? I think they deserve a little treat,” Jisung comments, sending Changbin a half-teasing smile. “It actually did look great.”

Changbin chooses to ignore the jab and preens at the compliment instead. “Well, thank you. I tried my best for my favorite girl in the world.” 

Miyoung giggles when he winks at her, and reaches out to hug him, which he immediately accepts with the rapt greediness of someone who wants to become the number one uncle, all to Minho and Jisung’s amusement. These past few months have done wonders to his relationship with her, and it makes him emotional. Grateful. He hates that he let his fear and anxieties deter him from enjoying how fantastic of a person she is. 

He looks up, and finally, among all the parents and kids gathered around, chatting after the play, he sees Hyunjin. He’s busy talking to some couple, probably accepting congratulations, so he doesn’t notice Changbin watching him.

Minho does. He snickers, and when Changbin forces his eyes off Hyunjin to look at him, he and Jisung are sharing that married-people look of silent understanding they always use to have weird, telepathic conversations. Changbin isn’t well-versed, but he catches the gist of it: they are making fun of him. 

Annoying. That’s what they are.

“Come on, pumpkin,” Jisung says to Miyoung, reaching out and wiggling his fingers to encourage her to hold his hand. “Go get changed out of your costume and dad will order burgers so they’re waiting for us at home. That’s still what you wanna eat, no?” 

Miyoung hums. “With fries.”

“Well, of course,” Jisung scoffs, but he’s smiling. “Who do you think I am, kid?” 

As Miyoung dashes off in the direction of the changing room and disappears among the sea of her classmates, Minho nudges Changbin’s side. “Do you wanna come over for dinner?” he asks. “We can spare you a fry or two.”

Changbin rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “Save me a seat. I’m just gonna. . .” 

He trails off, but the message rings out loud and clear, anyway. Minho laughs, and though Jisung is not far behind, he’s also kind enough to smack his husband’s shoulder for being so obnoxiously mean.

“Go get him, hyung,” he says, raising his fists in a cheer. “We support you!” 

That is somehow even more embarrassing than being straight-up laughed at. But it’s also sweet, and Changbin appreciates it more than he’s willing to let on. 

Finally, the two rascals leave him alone, heading towards the exit to wait for Miyoung outside the auditorium. 

Changbin turns back to where he’d last seen Hyunjin. Their eyes catch, and the prettiest smile blooms across Hyunjin’s face. He excuses himself from Seungmin and strides up to Changbin before Changbin can even think of moving.

He looks half a second away from pulling him into a hug, too. His arms even inch open. He stops himself at the very last second, though, and Changbin mourns that they’re not there yet.

“You came!” he says, as if there was ever a chance of Changbin not showing up. “How’d you like the play?”

Changbin shoves his hands into the front pockets of his pants, rocking on the balls of his feet. “I believed in you guys, of course, but it was way more fun than I thought it would be,” he admits, which makes Hyunjin’s smile shine even brighter. “And Miyoung was so cute.”

Hyunjin laughs. “I hope it was a memorable experience,” he says. “Did you sit with Miyoung’s dads? I looked for you, but it’s hard to see anything past the front row with the bright lights and all.” 

Warmth rushes through Changbin’s bloodstream. Hyunjin looked for him. He wanted Changbin to be here, and he wanted it badly enough to search. 

“Yeah, we were somewhere in the middle,” he says. “At that point we were just surrounded by moms and dads, since the kids were at the front, so, I don’t know, it feels a little strange to be here, since I’m not technically even family. I’m not a parent.” 

Hyunjin frowns. “Nonsense. Everyone was allowed to come. And, anyway, you need to stop selling yourself short. The way I see it, you are family,” he says, which is sweet—and true. Then, he seems to hesitate for a moment. “And, you know. I’m actually really glad that you’re not. A parent, I mean.”

Changbin blinks. “Why?”

“Because if you were a parent—” Hyunjin begins, twisting a ring on his finger nervously, “—I wouldn’t be able to ask you out on a date.” 

Changbin’s heart plummets to his stomach. “You wanna ask me out on a date?” he asks in utmost disbelief. His thoughts chant, Fuck, fuck, fuck. He thinks he might be hearing things. Maybe it’s the amount of people—maybe he’s not getting enough oxygen, and now he’s hallucinating.

But—

“I’ve been trying to,” Hyunjin says, sighing with absolute exhaustion. “I was starting to think you weren’t into me and you were just playing dumb to avoid hurting my feelings.”

Changbin’s brain short-circuits. “I wasn’t playing dumb, I was just—dumb,” he says, and he would feel dumb in this moment, too, if Hyunjin didn’t start laughing. “I am into you. So much that it’s borderline inappropriate and definitely embarrassing.” 

Hyunjin scoffs, like he’s trying to say, Watch this, and says, “When Minho-ssi sent me your picture, I spilled tea all over myself.” Changbin almost swallows his own tongue. “And then I saw you in person and you were even more handsome and I wanted to shove my fist down my throat. So. That’s what I was thinking when you walked into my classroom. Don’t be a parent, don’t be a parent, don’t be a parent. Crushing on married dads is the worst.”

And here Changbin was, thinking buying him a bouquet was too forward. He wishes he wasn’t a coward. He wishes he did it.

“Well, I’m not married and I’m not a dad, and I’m very much interested in going out with you,” he says. “But you’re gonna have to let me plan the date, since I’ve been so idiotic. I need to make it up to you.”

Hyunjin laughs, his eyes shining like two glimmering stars. He tucks his hair behind his ear. “Okay.”

Changbin feels like he might throw up. A little dizzy, very much light-headed. Drunk on the feeling. 

“Are you free next Friday?” he asks. He’s been thinking about this tirelessly, of course; he already has a thousand ideas of what they could do. “Or is that too soon?”

“I’m free,” Hyunjin tells him, smiling so hard his eyes turn to crescents. He opens his mouth to say something more, but someone calls out his name. Hyunjin-ssaem! And his smile dims into something apologetic. He’s still at work, after all. “Sorry,” he says. “Looks like they need me.”

Changbin laughs. “It’s fine. I’ll call you later, we can talk without a rush, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says. He lets out a deep breath. “I’m—I’m really glad you came, hyung.” 

Then, he disappears, calling out, What’s up? to whichever kid needs his attention. Changbin lingers, watching him go. At the last moment, he turns around and brightens up when he catches Changbin’s eyes and realizes he’s still there, looking at him. 

The sight makes Changbin’s chest constrict, his heart trip into a quicker beat.

This is what he’s been waiting his entire life for. A love that hits you right from the first look. The kind of love they make cheesy movies about. He spent all his teenage years watching them with his sister. Or, rather, standing in front of the TV with his arms crossed over his chest, pretending he was just passing by, checking if there was anything interesting running, definitely not enjoying the plot or the chemistry or longing for anything of that sort to happen to him.

He can’t be sure if this is love. But it certainly feels like it could be.

・・・・・

He worries about the date all week. At first, he realizes it might not be so easy to book a pottery class without ten months of an advance, but he ends up making the reservation without any hitch. Then, he considers that it might be boring, or not exactly the best environment to get to know each other, being elbows-deep in clay and all that. He tells himself: you could sit in a padded room together and it would still be fun. 

He knows Hyunjin’s gonna love it—that’s why Changbin came up with it, damn it—so he’s not sure why he gets nauseous every time he thinks about Friday. He’s scared like he’s back in high school, faced with the arduous challenge of a first date all over again.

And then he’s picking Miyoung up again on Thursday, and Hyunjin greets him with a smile, his entire face lighting up when their eyes lock, and all that inner turmoil, all that anxiety about the date not being good enough or fun enough—it all disappears.

Instead, he feels enthusiastic. Still nervous, but with that pleasant tingle of excitement in the pit of his stomach.

The days have passed quickly, this entire week, despite Changbin’s constant overthinking, and now they’re supposed to go out tomorrow. In twenty-four hours, they will have just walked into the pottery class.

Isn’t that crazy?

Unfortunately, another student is still in the classroom, waiting to be picked up, and Hyunjin says he can’t hitch a ride with them today.

“We can wait until you’re done,” Changbin says with a shrug. “I’m sure whoever’s picking him up won’t be long, no?”

Hyunjin’s smile is so warm it makes his eyes look like molten honey. The way he’s looking at Changbin now is so—sweet. “I have errands to run, though,” he says, giggling when Changbin pulls an annoyed face. “But we’re still on for tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes,” Changbin says, his tongue tripping over itself in his mouth in a rush to speak, to confirm that yes, they’re going out, it’s all he’s been able to think about this past week, it’s all he’s been wanting from the second he looked at Hyunjin, really. “Of course.”

Hyunjin laughs at his nervousness. It’s a relief that he finds all that neediness charming instead of pathetic. “Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” 

“I can only tell you I’m positive you’re gonna like it. Anything else is just gonna ruin the surprise.”

“I’m gonna act surprised when we get there,” Hyunjin says. “Promise.”

He bats his eyelashes, trying to act all cute, and—Changbin sighs, resigned. How is he supposed to deny this man anything?

“I signed us up for a pottery class,” Changbin says. Although he does know it fits right in with Hyunjin’s interests, he still gauges his expression with slight anxiety. He doesn’t look disappointed, so there’s that. “And then I was thinking dinner? Unless you realize just how pathetic I am in anything art-related and decide to call it quits after that.”

Hyunjin blinks at him. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and Changbin grows nervous. And then—“I should’ve known you’d come up with something thoughtful and wonderful,” he says. 

The relief that floods Changbin almost knocks him off his feet. He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish. “I thought it would be more fun than just dinner or a movie.”

“It sounds perfect,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “Now I’m even more excited. I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep thinking about how awful you’ll probably be at it.”

“Hey!” Changbin protests, but he’s already smiling. It’s true. He’s probably gonna be awful. Clay flying around, getting in his hair, probably blinding him forever, too. He’s prepared to embarrass himself.

Hyunjin just grins. “Don’t worry. I’m a good teacher.” 

Changbin has no choice but to take Miyoung home, then. He stays for dinner with the family, because Minho has made sirloin steak and the best Changbin could do on his own is order something in. 

They’re talking about how one of their mutual friends is moving to Canada and another has just announced her pregnancy, when Miyoung suddenly says, “Did you know that Uncle has a date with ssaem tomorrow?”

All hell breaks loose. 

While Changbin hides his face in his hands, Minho and Jisung positively lose their shit. That is, after Jisung stops choking on his roasted carrot. But it can’t be that surprising, can it? They’ve been teasing Changbin and egging him on to actually make a move, and when he does, Jisung almost dies out of sheer surprise and disbelief? 

“What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, his voice still hoarse and raw.

“Because I wanted to know it would actually go somewhere before I said anything.” Changbin throws a half-hearted glare in Miyoung’s direction. “Way to ruin the surprise, kid.”

“Sorry, Uncle, I’m just excited,” Miyoung says, batting her eyelashes with a sickeningly cute pout. Ugh. He can’t even pretend to be mad at her. 

Minho points a fork at Jisung from across the table, a dangerous, smarmy little grin slowly blooming across his face. “You are washing my car shirtless, jagi.”

“What? You don’t know he was the one to ask,” Jisung argues. “I still have a chance.”

It takes a moment for the words to click in Changbin’s mind, but when they do, his jaw goes slack. “You bet on me?”

They don’t even have the decency to look sheepish about it.

“Well, Jisung said you would never have the balls,” Minho tells him. It feels like a betrayal. “I, on the other hand, always believed in you.” 

“That’s not true,” Jisung says. “You said—”

Minho pushes a piece of beef into his mouth. “Eat your dinner, jagi.” 

Miyoung giggles. She’s Changbin’s favorite member of the Han-Lee family, but she’s on thin ice. He’s considering the cats for the grand honor, so things are bad. To think that he’s been so kind and loving to all of them. 

“For the record, it was a mutual invitation,” he says. “So neither of you should win.”

“What does that mean, a mutual invitation? Did you guys ask at the same time?” Jisung asks. “That would be kind of cute.”

Warmth floods Changbin’s cheeks. “He actually said he’d wanted to ask me out for a long time, and I said he had to let me plan it and all since I’d been chickening out of asking him for even longer,” he admits reluctantly.

He wants to keep the majority of the conversation to himself, and not just because the conclusion of it was that he was an absolute fool who can’t read signs and almost fumbled the guy who might as well be the love of his life. For some reason, that moment feels intimate—despite the people that surrounded them at the moment.

“Well, what are you guys doing, then?” Minho asks. “You probably cried trying to come up with something that would knock his socks off, no?”

Changbin deadpans. “We’re taking a pottery class.”

“Ou. Artsy!” Jisung says, grinning. He looks genuinely happy for him, which is sweet. Even though he apparently didn’t believe Changbin was capable of growing a pair. “He should love that, no?”

“I wanna go to a pottery class too,” Miyoung announces.

“Uncle Changbin’s gonna learn it all and then take you,” Minho assures her, tossing Changbin an awful wink. 

Something’s telling Changbin that he’s never going to step foot in a pottery studio after tomorrow, unless it’s to pick up his clay creation, but he says, “Well, of course. Maybe we can even convince Hyunjin-ssaem to tag along.”

・・・・・

Changbin’s heart is crashing against his ribs at a ferocious pace when he pulls up to Hyunjin’s apartment building that Friday. No matter how hard he tries, it’s impossible for him to get rid of all his nervousness. He wants this date to be perfect. He wants it to be their first—not last. 

Hyunjin is already waiting, and a smile breaks across his face when he recognizes the car. There’s spring in his step as he moves forward. He looks so genuinely excited that it feels like a dream—like Changbin is just making him up.

He’s dressed comfortably, but it’s obvious he’s going out, with that short-sleeve flowy purple shirt and a pair of jeans that make Changbin’s mouth water with the way they cling to his thighs.

“Hey,” he says as he climbs into the passenger seat.

Before Changbin can even answer, Hyunjin leans over the console to kiss his cheek in a greeting—except he can’t seem to stop smiling even for a moment, so he ends up pressing his grin against Changbin’s skin instead.

The spot tingles with warmth and spreads throughout Changbin’s entire system, turning into what feels like a full-body flush. Is it possible that he’s running a fever?

“Hi,” he says, trying to manage his heart-eyes and the growing, desperate need to kiss Hyunjin senseless. “Ready for the adventure?”

Hyunjin fastens his seatbelts and makes himself comfortable, leaning back against the seat and tipping his head to the side to look at Changbin. “Ready and excited. I almost called in sick today because I could barely focus,” he says, laughing. “See what you’re doing to me?” 

To have his own thoughts spoken back out loud to him is—arresting. Changbin’s heart stops beating for a moment, and when it goes back to proper functioning, it’s racing. 

He sends Hyunjin a grin that he hopes looks more confident than he feels. “But you survived work alright, no?” 

“Mhm. I had a good day,” Hyunjin tells him. “How about you?”

“Eh. You know.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Boring. Yeah. Sure.” 

Changbin laughs. “It’s true. Overseeing budget meetings is as far from fun as it gets. You’d have to see for yourself. Maybe then you’d believe me.”

“Let’s wait for Take Your Boyfriend To Work Day, then, and maybe you’ll prove me wrong,” Hyunjin declares. 

Changbin promptly chokes on his tongue, but he covers that with a laugh. He doesn’t admit that the thought of Hyunjin being his boyfriend is making his insides turn to mush. He’s thirty years old, for fuck’s sake. 

The drive from Hyunjin’s street to the pottery studio isn’t long. 

True to his word, Hyunjin acts surprised when they end up in front of it, saying, “Oh my god, hyung, this is so cool, I can’t believe you thought of this!” 

Changbin just shakes his head, laughing, and pulls him inside. 

There’s tons of artworks displayed around the studio—vases and mugs and plates and figurines, all intricately painted. Fairy lights are strung under the ceiling, creating a cozy, dim-lit atmosphere. 

“What do you wanna make?” Hyunjin asks as they wait for their instructor, wandering around the shop. 

“A bowl,” Changbin says immediately. He’s been studying pottery online in preparation for this date—that’s how serious this is for him. “That feels the least complicated.”

Two minutes later, they’re handed beige aprons, and the lesson starts. The instructor looks like a teenager, but Changbin has faith that she knows her stuff. She asks if they’ve ever done this before, and Hyunjin timidly says he has. Then, she looks at Changbin like she sees right through him: why he’s here and that he’s going to be trouble.

They’re handed a slab of clay and the instructor shows them how to wedge it. It reminds Changbin of kneading dough, though he’s never done that in his entire life, he thinks. It’s pretty tiring, but it almost feels like working out. When he says that out loud, Hyunjin snickers.

Every now and then, Changbin catches him glancing in his direction. Precisely, at his arms and the way the sleeves of his T-shirt cling to his biceps. And just like that, Changbin is reminded that he’s not the only one who’s been pining and waiting. 

Once their clay is all soft and pliable, they move over to the wheels.

Now, tossing the clay onto the wheel is where the fun is at. Their instructor warns them against pressing the pedal with too much force, and proceeds to show them how to get started by making a crater with her fingers in her own block of clay.

Changbin tries to follow his instinct and not look at Hyunjin too much, because then he loses concentration and his pile of mud falls apart. He squeezes the clay until a sort-of cone comes out. The instructor reminds him to keep his elbows pressed against his body and tells him to secure the bottom of the cone. 

The setting doesn’t offer much chance for conversation, which—in hindsight—might’ve been a bad idea for a first date. Changbin is not a multitasker, though, and he’s trying really hard to make his bowl look alright, so he opts for listening to Hyunjin talk instead.

It’s not easy, this whole pottery thing. Too much pressure makes the clay fall apart under his hands. Changbin tries and tries, and just when he’s proud enough of what he’s created, just when he can almost see the bowl forming, his fingers get too excited and accidentally ruin all the work.

It’s annoying. He doesn’t have much patience for things like that.

Just like expected, though, Hyunjin is good at it.

When Changbin sees his gorgeous bowl, with its sloping walls and a size perfect for a hearty amount of stew, and then looks at the shapeless mass of mud in front of him, he almost cries. 

Hyunjin laughs when he sees his face. “Come on, hyung, I’ll help you. Do you want me to help you?”

Changbin might be awful at pottery, but because of that, Hyunjin can wrap his arms around him from the back and show him how it’s done, so it’s not that frustrating. With Hyunjin’s hands on his, he can easily make a cylinder and keep it upright long enough to start shaping it with his fingertips.  

“You’re so big,” Hyunjin says, right against the shell of Changbin’s ear. “I can barely wrap my arms around you.”

Changbin’s brain melts and spills out of every hole in his head. His eyes skitter all over the room like he expects a thousand people to be staring, but their instructor had to take a call and they’ve been left alone. The temperature of his body rises a few dangerous degrees. 

Hyunjin is devilish.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better about being a total loser,” Changbin tells him. Because getting horny in a pottery studio is wrong on too many levels.

“That’s just an additional benefit of what I’m saying,” Hyunjin insists, his lips brushing against Changbin’s ear again. 

It’s hard to shake that off. Changbin isn’t quite sure how his bowl survives his trembling hands, but when Hyunjin pulls away and returns to his own work station, it manages to stand on its own.

“You can come back anytime starting next week to paint your bowls,” the instructor says. “Just give us a heads-up.”

After telling her all about how fun it was, they drive back to Hyunjin’s apartment building just so that they can walk a few blocks down to a dumpling place he loves. Dinner is where their date is supposed to end—but they don’t want to part ways when their stomachs are full, so they head to the park for a stroll. 

At one point, Changbin spots a flower stand in the distance and stops their conversation short. He says, “Wait here,” and then dashes away, leaving Hyunjin absolutely confused. But that momentary abandonment is worth it. 

He picks a bouquet of pink roses and white gypsy, and returns to Hyunjin hiding it behind his back uselessly. Hyunjin has already realized where he’s gone, but his lips still part in astonishment at the bouquet. 

“They’re so beautiful,” he says, shoving his entire face into them with an enormous inhale.

“I was going to bring you a bouquet for the play, but I chickened out,” Changbin admits. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“I love flowers,” Hyunjin tells him, and it sounds like an invitation to his ears. “You should see the amount of paintings I have in my apartment. My living room is just canvases and bouquets. This one, though—I’m going to dry it and keep it forever.”

Changbin’s heart stutters in his chest. It refuses to calm down even when they sit down to watch the sun set over the Han River and talk. Even when he walks Hyunjin home what feels like simultaneously seconds and hours later. It just keeps racing. 

“We should do this again,” he says as they stand in front of Hyunjin’s front door. “Soon. Like, really soon. Don’t you think?”

Hyunjin laughs. “Yes. I mean, I still owe you that thank-you dinner.”

“You’ve already taken me out for a thank-you dinner,” Changbin says, because he’s never been the one to take the hint.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Can you just stop being difficult?”

He grabs the front of Changbin’s denim jacket and pulls him into a kiss. 

Changbin gasps, caught off-guard and unprepared, but his brain is quick to catch up with reality, and he rises on his tip-toes and kisses Hyunjin back. It tastes like the soda they drank at the restaurant and the mint gum they had after and like something much sweeter, something innate to Hyunjin. 

Changbin immediately becomes addicted.

He likes that Hyunjin towers over him, and that he becomes pliant under his touch easily, melting when Changbin wraps his arms around his waist. He has been waiting for this kiss for months, and somehow, it’s even better than he hoped and dreamed. 

When they finally pull apart, they’re both breathing heavily. They break into matching, equally dazed smiles the moment their eyes lock.

Hyunjin swipes his tongue across his plump, pink mouth, and takes a step back. “I need to—I need to go upstairs,” he says, his voice already hoarse and raw. “Before I invite you over and we go through ten stages of a relationship in one night and end up married tomorrow.”

Changbin laughs. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t,” Hyunjin says. His eyes glimmer like two stars in the street lighting. “Don’t make me break my rules. You’re not meeting Kkami before our third date.”

“Well, then, are you free tomorrow?” 

“Jesus,” Hyunjin whispers, shaking his head. He tries to act all disappointed with Changbin’s overzealousness, but he can’t quite get rid of his smile, so he just looks—incredibly fond. “Go home, hyung.”

“Come with,” Changbin says, and only a small part of him is joking. 

Hyunjin gives him a look and starts backing away in the direction of the door. But just before he disappears inside, he turns back around to where Changbin is still standing and rewards him with the most stunning, beautiful smile in the world. 

“I really had a lot of fun today, hyung,” he says. “It was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

And then he’s gone. Changbin isn’t sure how long he just—stands there. But it takes a minute for him to start dragging his feet to his car, still with that shit-eating, self-satisfied grin on his face. 

He feels that kiss all the way home. It’s hard not to keep on pressing his fingertips against his lips or swiping his tongue across his mouth in search of that specific taste of love. 

The moment he steps over the threshold of his apartment, he goes to take a shower. When he comes out, there’s a message waiting for him from Hyunjin. 

By the way, it says, I actually am free tomorrow.