Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hongjoong realizes he can only ignore Seonghwa's invitations to go out for so long until it's going to start raising questions. Questions that he does not want to answer. Questions that have probably already been answered—and unfavorably so—by other parties not currently present in his bathroom mirror.

His phone vibrates again, he doesn't have to check it to know who it is but he does anyway just to be sure. An all capital letters message from the man of the hour demanding that Hongjoong stop ignoring him. As if. Tell me that you-know-who isn't going to be there and I'll consider ever seeing you again.

He doesn't say this, of course, because saying it makes it too real. We can't have that. We can't acknowledge our feelings any more than the absolutely required amount because then we're going to be held far more responsible for them and the way that we act—treat other people—as a result. Hongjoong already knows he's an asshole, he doesn't really need a reminder more than his own brain already serves. Day in, and day out.

But really, the irony in all of this is the fact that despite everything, Hongjoong still stands in front of his dirty bathroom mirror, primping and preparing himself for an evening out that he is deluding himself into thinking he won't be partaking in. He ignores Seonghwa's numerous messages on account of having no intention of meeting with him, yet the one, single strand of blue hair that currently causes him grievance feels a little bit like the end of the world. Like if one more minor inconvenience happens he's going to toss himself out of his bedroom window and say goodbye to the world as he knows it.

His bedroom window sits ground level, but it's the thought that counts.

The tag on the back of his black, button down shirt keeps poking his flesh in a way that makes him seriously think the world is out to get him. It's been three days since that fateful night of horrors and while he certainly has not forgotten about it by any means, the world seems to have also taken to making sure that none of his wrongdoings go unaccounted for either. His toilet has broken down, his shower head is clogged up and spewing out water every which way, and his favorite pair of jeans? Ripped at the crotch. Could make for a pretty funny big dick joke, not that anyone would believe him anyway.

Now? This fucking tag.

Hongjoong reaches up and over head, tears his shirt off and digs through one of the drawers for something that can cut this damn thing off. He finds nail clippers—good enough—and goes to town on the pesky thing that is causing him so much strife. It's cathartic, in a way; taking out his feelings on something that doesn't actually feel any of the pain he inflicts upon it. Huh, maybe he's onto something here.

There's another vibration from his phone and he sighs, messily tugs his shirt back on and grabs it with a huff. He reads through the messages—all angry with him—and then gets to the end where he finally relents to what he has always known about this evening. Aggressively types into the message box and hits send, then tumbles out of the bathroom and towards the front door.

Send me the address.

𓏵

Hongjoong doesn't typically make it a habit of seeing past flings.

The circumstances here are different for a handful of reasons, but mostly because he cherishes Seonghwa's existence in his life. He has always been there, always been gentle with him when he needed it (and even when he didn't deserve it,) and has gone out of his way to handle Hongjoong with kid-gloves. Maybe even a little bit to his developmental detriment. Seonghwa just wants Hongjoong to be okay, to get through the days and with as little carnage lying in the aftermath as possible.

It's never been an outright discussion, but Hongjoong knows that this is why Seonghwa has never introduced him to his other friends before.

Because internally, Seonghwa has always known that Hongjoong would do exactly the thing that he has now done. A fucking emotional twister—thoughtlessly carving through any and everything in its path, no care or concern for the devastation that remain after the fact.

Except Hongjoong does care. He cares very much. Cares a lot. He doesn't really know what to do with, or about that fact. But it exists. It's there. It torments him.

The party this time is outdoors—less a house party and more of a lot party—where the owners of the place have far more yard than they know what to do with and thus it serves as the perfect place for barbeque cooking and volleyball playing. The weather around this time of the year is perfect for this kind of thing even to someone like him who prefers to be outside as little as possible no matter the time, but even he has to admit that on nights like this, it's pretty nice out.

The car arrives and he slings himself out of it carefully. He thanks the driver and tugs his coat shut around his chest as he stands far out from the rest of the people and simply watches on for a moment. Hongjoong scans the crowd for someone that he knows; he sees Yeosang with the other two tall guys that their friend group can often be seen with, which must mean that Seonghwa and Wooyoung are around here somewhere.

He continues looking until he hears a loud, high pitched cackle come from somewhere to his right—back down towards the coast where the water sits for residential beach going—and that's where he finds the other two alongside a handful of other mixed sorts. Some men, some women; Wooyoung looks close and comfortable with all of them.

And suppose that at the end of the day, that's always been where Hongjoong's abject terror when it comes to Wooyoung stems from. Someone so easily able to build bonds between people, who loves and adores so freely and openly, to any and everyone that he deems fit of receiving it (again, seemingly everyone.) Hongjoong is nothing of the sort. Hongjoong is closed off and no fun and often told that he is rather detached as far as his emotions tend to go.

Always broken up with, never the breaking-up-er.

This is all true, but what isn't is the way that it leads people to assume that Hongjoong doesn't love just as hard as anyone else, because he does. It's difficult for him to reach a place where he is able to express it in anything similar to the same way that someone like Wooyoung does, and when nervous, he fights back—with careless words and violent verbal attempts to push away. One thing he's got going for him is that he's very good at that. It always seems to work.

No one wants to roll with the punches because they shouldn't have to. Hongjoong knows it's too much to ask of someone and so he never does. He knows that if he can't be nice to people then people are simply going to stop being around him, and he deserves that. If he were on the outside looking in, he would tell any of his friends to run far and fast away from himself too.

Still, he watches on as the group of them come closer towards him. Seonghwa notices him first, then Wooyoung, who for some reason does not try to gracefully escape what's coming to him. Uhg. That sort of makes it even worse, because now he has to try and figure out how to act normal about this impending interaction that is so, so far from anything on the spectrum of normal.

Hey, sorry I treated you like shit that time we fucked a few days ago. Haha yeah, that was so crazy right? I would ask if you want to do it again but like, I'd just do the same thing as last time. Yeah. Yeah, no, I really don't know how to have an average intimate experience with another human being.

"You came," Seonghwa says, a little winded from the trek up the hill from the beach. "I kind of didn't think you would."

"Well, I asked for the address, didn't I?"

He snorts. "Yeah, that doesn't mean shit. You know how many times I've sent you addresses only for you to never show up? Especially parties, but for whatever reason you've now decided that parties are your jam. Wouldn't miss one for the world, eh?"

Hongjoong swallows hard. A gust of cool breeze wafts by them and he takes the opportunity to let out a shiver that he'd been holding back on account of his discomfort. He still hasn't looked at Wooyoung. Won't, if he can help it.

"Anyway, why did you want me to come out here so bad?"

Seonghwa scoffs. "If I didn't force you out every now and then, I'd probably never see you again. I know how you get once you get comfortable locking yourself indoors. Besides—" he nods over to the man standing beside him then, "I think you have business to attend to."

"Uhh." Hongjoong shuffles his feet where he stands, the gravel beneath making a gritting, grinding sound under his boot. He knows damn well what it is that his friend is alluding to, but he's going to play dumb just in case he can get away with it.

Wooyoung interjects just then, palms up in the air like he's the one surrendering to something and his teeth are clamped together in an awkward show. He's obviously afraid of the tension here, Hongjoong sort of wishes he could tell him he doesn't have to be but doesn't really want to acknowledge the guy any more than he already has.

He looks cute though—wet, windswept hair and sunkissed skin that seems to have a little extra glow to it on account of being on the beach for a couple of hours. Hongjoong tries not to let his eyes rake over the guy too much—been there, done that—tells himself he's already had it and doesn't need it and he's really more of a hit it and quit it type anyway, despite knowing full well that that isn't even really true.

"Um, it's fine, really," he says then, forcing out an airy laugh to accompany words that Hongjoong doesn't even really think he means. How could it be fine? The way that I treated you is not fine. "We're fine, there's no like…bad blood, or anything. Just didn't work out! No harm, no foul."

No, very, very big foul! A lot of harm! Hongjoong wonders what is wrong with this guy that he could ever delude himself into thinking that the way he was treated that night was acceptable. Wooyoung should beat his ass, and Seonghwa should help. It shouldn't be written off as fine just so that they can all keep the peace amongst the friend groups, what the fuck?

Instead, Hongjoong claps his hands together and looks up at Seonghwa. "See? No problems! Let's get drinks."

The two walk ahead of him and lead the way towards the coolers, but no matter what Wooyoung says, and no matter how he says it, that wounded sounding hey that crept out of his mouth that night still sits ever present at the forefront of Hongjoong's mind, and no, it isn't okay.

𓏵

Things are going fine, and that makes Hongjoong uncomfortable.

As it sits now, there's been a whole week of time in between that last party and this one now—though this is hardly a party, and more of a casual get-together. They're all gathered at Mingi and Yunho's because their shared place is bigger and can accommodate the number of bodies, it's a nice apartment, spacious, they seem a little bit more put together and mature than the rest of them, though that might just be Hongjoong projecting onto the fact that he can't help but watch the way the two of them interact with one another. They're so in love. Obviously so, anyone would be able to see it through the stolen glances and small smiles shared between them even in a crowded room. The kind of love where you don't need to be overtly told that it's there, you can just see it in everything that they do.

He sits alone on the smaller loveseat with a red solo cup in hand. Some kind of fancy craft beer inside of it that's more expensive than anything he'd normally get, only driving home the fact that The Yungi Partnership sits so much further developed than anything Hongjoong could ever hope to achieve.

A lot of these faces are familiar to some degree, though some are brand new. Jongho and San are new additions to him—they're nice. Jongho immediately made a joke about not wanting to be there and just based on that alone, he feels a sort of deep understanding between the two of them. Hongjoong does want to be there, though. It's complicated, to say the least.

He's a little out of his depth with this one, because all of these people are already friends. Hongjoong only really knows Seonghwa and Wooyoung—Yeosang a bit, though not well enough to cling to—and as far the former two, well, only one truly presents as any sort of an option for that.

Seonghwa does make an effort to check in with him, but Hongjoong doesn't really want to monopolize his time either. He tells his friend that he's cool and good and having a nice time but the reality of it is that he is deeply uncomfortable. His eyes linger on Wooyoung every time the man is within his line of sight; checking to see if he's looking for Hongjoong as well, but never really seems to be. Yeah, why would he? Got a little bit more than he bargained for the first time around, idiot.

Wooyoung disappears out of sight and Hongjoong sighs, finally decides to stand up and head across the living room into the kitchen where Yeosang and Jongho are and maybe—who knows—talk, or something. He folds in on himself a little as he tries to slip behind Mingi who is talking to San and Yunho vibrantly, retelling a story of some sort but doesn't seem to know that Hongjoong is behind him when he stumbles back and nudges his arm, jarring his drink from his hand and subsequently spilling half of the liquid onto his shirt, pants and the floor below.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" Mingi whines, grabs at Hongjoong like the world is crumbling down around him and now this guy that he's only just met is going to hate him forever for an accident. San runs into the kitchen for paper towels and Yunho sort of chuckles as he watches the scene unfold, realizing the lack of gravity to it all.

"It's okay, really, it's just a shirt and beer, it'll come out," Hongjoong insists, laughing through the mental anguish of how embarrassing it is. Everyone is looking, though he doesn't really care so much about that. Just another mild inconvenience to add onto the seemingly endless list of things that he knows he deserves.

"Here, come with me, the big bathroom is just around the corner there's a clothing dryer and a blow dryer, whatever you wanna use. You can borrow some stuff of ours, though—"

Mingi's face sort of contorts at the thought of it like he realizes just a little bit too late, the relatively massive size difference between the two of them. Dropping that, he continues leading Hongjoong towards the bathroom, jiggling the knob, though it doesn't come loose.

"Someone must be in there but it's all yours, I'm so sorry, man."

"Seriously, it's okay, I'll survive."

With a guilty grimace, Mingi backs away and leaves Hongjoong to it, though he still looks like he feels terribly about the whole thing. Even if it had been a big deal, there's no way Hongjoong would be able to hold any kind of a grudge with a guy who is just so thoroughly caring for him—a stranger. Someone that he doesn't need to really think about at all.

Tugging at the hem of his wet shirt, he hears the door in front of him unlock, and stepping towards it, he looks up only after closing more of the distance between himself and the person standing in the way.

"Oh."

Wooyoung stands there all wide eyes and thoughtful blinks, looks down the expanse of Hongjoong's fit to the dark blotch of moisture that accentuates his t-shirt and jeans, then glances back up to meet their eyes.

"Bad night, huh?"

"Been better."

"I know how that goes."

He doesn't really know if that's a call back to everything that's already gone wrong between them but he can't help but assume that it is. Hongjoong doesn't say anything, just squeezes himself into the space between the door frame and the other body like if he dares to brush the flesh of a man that he's already had inside of him he'll burst into flames.

There doesn't really need to be any further conversation, so Hongjoong doesn't bother attempting as much. He tugs his shirt off over his head and lies it out over the edge of the sink—reaches for the hairdryer and fumbles with the controls a little until it lightly powers on—and it's loud, but not loud enough to not hear the sound of the door shutting behind him, and the lock clicking after it.

He looks up and into the mirror, Wooyoung still standing there behind him with arms crossed over his chest expectantly. Well, whatever he's expecting, he's probably not going to get it, so best to give up that endeavor as quickly as it came to him.

"Are you just going to keep coming around and pretending like nothing ever happened?"

Yes. "Yes."

Wooyoung frowns in a way that just seems so big because everything that he does is big. Hongjoong pretends to be giving his full and undivided attention to the task at hand, but really, all he can think about is the fact that he is now locked inside of a bathroom with the guy that he not only has very conflicted and unfortunate feelings for, but that he has also treated horrifically and unforgivably already. He should have stayed home.

Crossing the tile, Wooyoung brings himself to the side of the bathroom and sits himself on top of the counter that holds the washer and dryer. His feet dangle next to Hongjoong and he just watches in silence for what feels like twenty-million lifetimes, though realistically is probably not more than ten seconds.

"You don't think I'm at least owed an apology?"

Hongjoong looks up quickly, forces a sarcastic smile before answering. "I told you you could pull my hair, choke me out a little. Missed your chance."

"I don't want to do those things," Wooyoung says, voice calm and even in a way that Hongjoong doesn't particularly like, because he is very much trying to get away from having a serious discussion about this. "I want an apology, and then I'll leave you alone."

"I want a million dollars and a dry set of clothes."

Why do you always have to do this, he wonders to himself. Because realistically, he knows damn well that he owes the man precisely what it is that he's asking for. He owes him so much more than an apology, he owes Wooyoung the opportunity to flush his head down the toilet until he sits on the precipice of drowning, but all he's asking for is a simple apology. And Hongjoong won't give it.

There's a beat of silence that passes between them then, Wooyoung sighs and Hongjoong prepares himself for an onslaught of who-knows-what that he'll definitely be deserving of, but it never really comes.

"Do you know why I went home with you that night?"

Hongjoong sighs, annoyed, rolls his eyes into the reflection of the mirror and shuts the electronic device in hand, off. "For a blowjob, I don't know."

Wooyoung's lips pull thin and straight into something that's almost a smile. There's a hint of one there that Hongjoong can barely make out, though more than anything, all he sees is pity sitting behind the gesture. He doesn't particularly like the way that makes him feel.

"I went home with you because I thought we were going to talk," he says, slipping down from the countertop and leaning in closer towards Hongjoong to look at himself in the mirror. Hongjoong recoils away, doesn't want to be touched. Like he's frightened of him. "I was actually really excited about it, because I thought that you didn't like me before that night. I told Seonghwa that I thought you hated me and I kept going over everything in my mind—over, and over again—trying to figure out what I'd done, but I couldn't figure it out, and then you asked me to come over, and I thought wow, I was worried for nothing! Now we're really going to start to get to know each other."

Hongjoong tries to clear the lump from his throat to no avail, nervously looks away from Wooyoung who still shares the reflection with him and turns the dryer back on. "Well, we certainly got to know each other, didn't we?"

"I wanted to talk, Hongjoong. I wanted to learn things about you and find out stuff like what your favorite foods are and where you'd like to vacation in the future. What kind of fragrances you like because Seonghwa told me our birthdays are close to each other and I wanted to be prepared for when it came around since yours is a bit before mine."

The words sit heavy in his chest, and feel a bit like someone's fist has reached in to clutch at his lungs. Hongjoong blinks down at his shirt a couple of times, though he's not really paying any attention to what he's doing anymore, just pretending and hoping that the other guy doesn't notice how much the retelling of the evening is actually getting to him. This is what he wanted to avoid. This is why he didn't want to do this.

It's not that no one ever wants to get to know him—plenty of people have tried. It's just that Hongjoong never lets them. He fucks them and makes sure that they never, ever want to come back for more, then moves onto the next tricking himself into believing that he's done them some kind of service because sex happened. How could anyone be disappointed, after all? A consolation prize: I'll swallow your cum if you promise to never try to talk to me again in our lives.

"Okay, well," Hongjoong forces out some sort of reply, though before he even finishes he knows that everyone would be better off if he simply didn't. "I wanted to choke on it. Common miscommunication. Happens all the time."

Silence sits between them again as Wooyoung pulls himself out of the reflection and looks over Hongjoong as he stands beside him. With shirt and blow dryer in hand, Hongjoong doesn't dare meet his eyes or acknowledge the fact that he's still there, and thus, eventually the man makes his way towards the door.

Hongjoong hears the lock click, and a wash of relief settles across his skin. He's not out of the weeds just yet, but he knows he will be soon and for now that's good enough.

"You know, Seonghwa told me you were mean but I didn't really believe him, because he and I generally have way different interpretations of people. I'm a big sap, a hopeless romantic, so it takes a lot for someone to do something and me to actually interpret it as malicious."

Hongjoong chews at the inside of his bottom lip, hands stilling all of their motion and shoulders slumping forward as the words wash over him. Sure, it's not anything he hasn't heard before, but this time feels different, this time feels…poignant.

The knob twists, the door opens. "But he was right, you are mean."

Waiting for the sound of the door to shut again feels like an eternity. An eternity to stand and dwell in the feelings. An eternity to be choked and strangled by his careless misdeeds.

An eternity until he can finally crumble and cave in on himself against the bathroom cupboard, hands shielding his face as he sobs to nobody but the loneliness he created.

𓏵

A month goes by with no more invites, he can't say that he's all too surprised by that fact.

When Hongjoong finally puts his pride aside and reaches out to Seonghwa, it's not in an attempt to fish for an outing to tag along to with his friends. He accepts that that bridge is more than burnt—a pile of ass sitting at the edge of his couch, or at the bottom of his trashcan where the condom was tossed—either way, the ship has sailed on that, but Seonghwa's lack of contact with him makes him feel especially badly, because while he has always known that the man is none thrilled about the way that he handles his personal endeavors, it's never resulted in the pulling back of their relationship by any means.

He might be assuming things, because when he does reach out to meet up for a coffee or something, Seonghwa accepts easily. So, now he sits here: sipping on a drink that he doesn't even particularly like because he doesn't really go to coffee shops and thus, doesn't know what to order. He picked this because it's the kind of thing people who need to have discussions do, and they certainly need to have one of those.

"You could have suggested lunch," Seonghwa says, voice plain and deep as it often is when he's stating the obvious. "Neither of us are big coffee-drinkers."

That would have made sense, yes. Hongjoong shrugs. "It's not really about the coffee."

"I know." Seonghwa sets his drink to the side and leans forward against the table. "Look, I'm not not inviting you out on purpose, it's just that things are a little weird now. You know why."

Hongjoong's upper lip curls into a snarl so quickly that he can't even contain the quickness in which he wishes to fire back. Even though he's the one still sitting very firmly in The Wrong. "Okay, but does he have to tell everyone to ice me out of the group? So it didn't work out, so what."

Seonghwa's head drops to the side, a knowing look cast down upon the man across the table. "Oh, it didn't work out, did it? And why might that be? Like you didn't have it handed to you on a silver platter."

Slumping in his chair, Hongjoong folds his arms over his chest like a petulant child, looking away and to the side like he's physically rejecting the whole concept of it all.

"And for what it's worth, Wooyoung didn't ask me to stop inviting you around, I'm perfectly capable of coming to that obvious conclusion myself."

His eyes widen, head slowly turning back towards Seonghwa. "What?"

The other man takes his cup back into his hand and slumps into his chair similarly to Hongjoong, tugs the straw between his lips and sips on his beverage. "Wooyoung didn't tell me to stop bringing you places. I told me."

Hongjoong sputters, tries to gather his thoughts before speaking but doesn't really have the presence of mind to do so before making the attempt. "Wh—why—?"

"Because, man," Seonghwa nearly whines, already growing tired of the conversation from what Hongjoong can tell. "I hate watching you guys interact with each other. It's painful. I'm your friend, and I've been your friend for a long time, and it never gets easier watching you throw something good away time and time again because you're scared shitless of experiencing a normal human emotion. The same goes for him, for the record. I've watched Wooyoung throw himself at ain't-shit dudes—including but not limited to myself—get his heart broken over and over again, and even though I fucking knew you would do the exact same thing to him he still went ahead and did it, and what are you if not painfully fucking consistent."

Mouth hanging ajar, Hongjoong thinks to speak but opts out of doing so, shuts his mouth entirely instead and just remains seated there in silence as the words wash over him so harshly and suffocatingly. Never in all of their years as friends has Seonghwa ever spoken to him so harshly, and though not a single thing he's had here has been a lie, it certainly does sting. Though he can't imagine the truth woven within is meant to take the edge off either.

The sound of a plastic cup meeting the wooden table sounds off with a light tap, and Seonghwa reaches down to grab at his bag to head on his way.

"The fact that you won't even apologize is vile, for what it's worth, but Wooyoung doesn't even seem to care about that." He stands, slinging his belongings up. "But I care, and if you want to start coming back around, then you're going to apologize to him first. I've stood around and watched you act repulsively for a long time, but I'm done enabling you as far as my friends go. We can be friends, and I'm not abandoning you, but as far as my people go? You're cut off."

Maybe for the first time ever, Hongjoong can't find the words.

𓏵

He accepts that Wooyoung no longer wants anything to do with him, but what he hasn't factored into all of this is how the breaking of his own rules would result in him harboring his crush going forward.

The general game plan is this: Meet guy, like guy well enough, fuck guy, then never speak to guy again. This goes really well, because Hongjoong is so harsh with people during the act that they don't wish to revisit the experience again, and Hongjoong gets what he wants out of the experience which is the most basic amount of physical intimacy shared between two people fucking one another.

Unfortunately, he has twisted his own rules this time. Remaining in the friend group hadn't really been on the agenda, but as it would turn out, Hongjoong sort of enjoyed being around them—and with Seonghwa being such a mainstay in his life, it would be a little bit difficult to avoid doing so once already beginning to come around.

This, is what the people like to refer to as copium.

Hongjoong stares at himself in the mirror, points at his reflection like he's engaged in a heated argument with—well, himself. He kind of is, because he's trying to not allow himself to tell lies. Lies that he will happily convince himself of because it's easier, because he doesn't have to feel stuff he doesn't like feeling as a result.

He sighs aloud, then sucks in another breath. Closes his eyes, recenters. Opens. Looks at himself.

Hongjoong didn't keep coming around because not doing so would have been weird, or awkward, or because anyone would have noticed and asked questions. No one would have and he wouldn't have cared even if they had. Hongjoong kept coming around because he liked Wooyoung, and even after everything that he put the guy through, he still couldn't find it within himself to cut the cord in the same way that he normally would with a hook-up. He really liked Wooyoung. He still really likes Wooyoung.

There, I said it. Rolling his eyes, Hongjoong picks his comb up off of the counter and slicks it through his hair. Freshly dyed and looking sharp, he feels good about the way that he looks, and feels even better about the fact that this is the first time since the time in the bathroom he has been invited out with the wider friend group. Granted, it's Seonghwa's birthday, so singling him out would certainly raise some questions.

More than that, however, is the fact that Seonghwa is going to be expecting something from him. Not a birthday gift—though he'll get that as well—but something that he wants even more than a nice, new shirt from Hongjoong.

An apology to Wooyoung.

Even just the thought of it makes his skin crawl, every nerve beneath his skin beginning to itch and unsettle in a way that has him second guessing going to this event at all. His phone vibrates then, somehow Seonghwa always knows when it's the perfect opportunity to come through and bother him.

On the front of his phone screen and sitting in the notification bar sits a message from his friend—yes—but more than that is an attached image that he can't quite make out from the tiny preview box as it sits. Okay, fine, consider his interest piqued. He opens it.

There's no text to it, not that there needs to be, because Hongjoong makes a pained, groaning sound like an animal wounded at the sight that sits on his device.

The photograph is taken a little bit from a distance, and slightly from behind. It's of Wooyoung—smiling wide and with a cup of drink in hand—but such a nice, slick, button down shirt and his black hair pushed up and off of his forehead with just a handful of strands dangling free and in front of his face.

Slutty little strands of hair, Hongjoong thinks to himself as he looks at it, teeth gritted like it's the most infuriating thing he's ever seen, how fine this man appears tonight. Uhg. Fuck. He looks so good. What the fuck. Fuck!

He rolls his eyes shut, puts his phone down onto the bathroom counter and takes in a deep breath. His mind wanders; back to that night, back to the weight in his mouth, back to the stretch offered elsewhere. Hongjoong feels his dick twitch in his pants, but come on man, tonight is not about that, and besides, since when do you fuck the same person twice? Let's not be ridiculous.

Tapping one fingernail on the counter, he considers his options. He can be mature about this, go to the party and make his apologies and have a nice time like an adult with self control. He can jerk off before he leaves—which is realistically probably the best option—but he feels a little bit as if it's some sort of moral failing to jerk off to the guy that he's wronged so terribly and is meant to issue the apology of the century to as a result of it.

Just make the right decision for once, you will be fine. True. It doesn't feel like it right now but he knows that that's true. Maybe if he goes into this a little bit horny for it it'll make the act of apologizing just that much easier. Obviously, he doesn't anticipate Wooyoung wanting anything to do with him, but at least if he's dying for it then the horny part of his brain might take over and force out the most pathetic apology ever known to man in hopes that Wooyoung will ask to touch his dick again (a question he fully intends on answering yes to, this time around.)

Another notification rolls through and it makes Hongjoong jump like he's been caught doing something wrong. He is a little, though no one can read his mind and thank fuck for that fact. He opens it swiftly, thumbs down to the bottom of their shared message box.

He looks dressed up tonight, wonder why that is.

Hongjoong doesn't bother replying, just grabs his shit by the door and goes.

𓏵

"Happy birthday, you're the biggest loser I know, physically and figuratively."

Reaching across the living room and towards a seated and plastic-crowned Seonghwa, Hongjoong hands off his small, mint green gift bag to the birthday boy and sits back a little smug as his friend searches through the plethora of matching tissue papers until he reaches what sits waiting for him at the bottom of the bag. Seonghwa smiles—hurriedly looks up with wide eyes and white teeth on display—fishing the small box out with a little plastic card taped to it.

It's a small lego set, which would be enough to get Seonghwa's blood pumping, but to make the deal just that much sweeter, Hongjoong has attached a gift card with quite a hefty price tag on it. A lot of money for the bunch of them—well, except maybe The Yungi Collective. Who knows.

Seonghwa turns his smile into a frown, rushes forward and swoops his friend up into a big, tight hug and spins him. Hongjoong grimaces and swats at the arms at bind but he is at the mercy of someone much bigger and stronger than he is. Eventually the ride stops, he's relinquished, and he stumbles back somewhere towards where people are seated. A hand comes out to grip at the bend of his arm and pull him down onto the couch, which he is thankful for because finally the world begins to stop twirling—that is, of course, until he looks to his right to find out just who it is that has brutally forced him down into submission.

The man isn't watching him though, he's watching Seonghwa. Wooyoung's eyes look on all beady and wide—genuinely basking in the joy that has no bearing on him outside of the fact that someone that he cares about is experiencing it. Hongjoong looks over the man beside him for a little bit too long, because he knows that someone might catch him, but for the first time ever he sort of doesn't care.

Until Wooyoung turns and meets his gaze, however.

It puts their faces wildly close to one another, but Hongjoong knows he can't pretend to look away now, as he has already been caught. The ruse is up! Red-handed! Still, he leans back just a little to create space between their faces because he can smell the mint on Wooyoung's breath and it's kind of dizzying—partially because he doesn't really like mint, and the other part because he's realizing he really should have beat off before he came here, like he thought.

Worse than that, Wooyoung stays put where he is. He doesn't shy away, he doesn't back down. Their close proximity makes the little hairs on Hongjoong's skin raise and tingle in ways that he isn't particularly used to, and when Wooyoung's eyes drop down to where Hongjoong's lips are, he's fairly certain that he feels a wire in his brain snap apart and fray wildly amongst all of the rest.

"Do you want to go talk?"

Hongjoong is the one that's supposed to say it, and he feels a little too intoxicated off of the anticipation of this to know which one of them the words have come from, but he's fairly certain that it wasn't him, so he nods a little in response and he must be right; because the tiny corners of Wooyoung's lips curl upwards and his hand wraps around Hongjoong's wrist to yank him up and out of the room.

Don't throw up.

Another situation where he's very glad that no one can get into his head, because muddled in with all of the filthy thoughts about how good Wooyoung looks tonight is the repeated reminder to not vomit all over both of them because of the tension that hangs in the balance of all of this.

Gently tugging him by the wrist, Wooyoung pulls Hongjoong down the hall and around the corner into a small, dark sitting room that isn't really used by anyone in the house because who under the age of eighty has any use for a sitting room? There's a small, cheap glass coffee table with a half-drunk bottle of water that's been there for who-knows-how-long and an extremely small half-sofa that's basically the size of a loveseat—the perfect size for two people who aren't particularly large to share and puke out all of their feelings to one another.

Hongjoong feels his stomach turn at the mere thought of it, but doesn't have much of a choice on the matter. He has to apologize if he wants to keep being included, but more than that, he should. It's the right thing to do, and Wooyoung deserves at least that much. He feels bad about it taking this long, about it being this hard, because this is something that he has owed the man ever since the night ended. He should have been the first to find Wooyoung after the fact, groveling at his feet, begging for his forgiveness for treating him so carelessly because of his own, personal failings.

Wooyoung doesn't turn the light on in the room and Hongjoong appreciates the small effort—wonders if he remembers it from the way he insisted on keeping the lights off back at his house when they slept together. It's true that Hongjoong doesn't really like being all that present and in the moment when it comes to any kind of expression of his feelings, and really seeing what's going on? Well, pretty hard to ignore that.

They sit, Wooyoung plopping down first and Hongjoong slowly, carefully setting himself beside just thereafter. Silence follows them save for the loud roar of their friends carrying on at the other end of the hall, but for the most part, they are alone with nothing but each other and the words that are still left to be said.

"You stopped coming around for a while." Wooyoung states the fact first to break the ice. Hongjoong doesn't really know what to do with that. Does he know why? Did Seonghwa tell him anything?

"Uh, yeah, about that," he says, voice hushed and low because he doesn't know if he's even allowed to tell it. "Hwa stopped inviting me, so."

Wooyoung reels, eyebrows popping up in shock, but all he offers verbally for a long time is a simple "Oh." Like it's the first time that he's hearing of it but it isn't really news. Not really. How could it be. "I didn't ask him to—"

"No, I know, he told me. It was his decision, I don't really blame him."

There's rumbling cheer heard from out in the main living space that pulls the both of their attention up and towards it, Wooyoung smiles at the fact that the other guys must be having such a good time and Hongjoong feels a little guilty about holding him up in this dark room to do what is effectively boiling down to nothing, so, for the first time ever, he decides he has to just rip the bandaid off and make this thing happen.

Wooyoung gets to him first, however.

"Look, how about a trade offer, like that meme. You offer me something, and I offer you something in return, right? So you don't feel like you're the only one having to give something away tonight."

Why do you care? Why do you feel any concern at all for my feelings on the matter? I've wronged you so exponentially and still all you care about is anyone's feelings but your own.

"Okay." Hongjoong can't really fight it, he's in no place to. "Yeah, that sounds good. Fair."

"You have to go first though, because you so kind of really owe me."

Wooyoung sticks the tip of his tongue out through his tease like he's teasing and Hongjoong feels it like a pang of something in his chest. Must be one of those normal human emotions that he's been hearing so much about. He doesn't know how much he likes that.

Hands nestled into his lap, Hongjoong picks at the skin around his nails for a good long while as he thinks through the words he wants to say. He's rehearsed this moment to death in his head, but now that he's in it, it doesn't really feel like enough.

Sucking in a sharp inhale, he decides on just doing it. Frankly, Wooyoung has been waiting long enough, and even if it sucks, at least it's done, and maybe they can hash out the details of it after the fact once the main foundation is laid.

"I'm sorry," he says first, though he finds that it feels akin to the floodgates opening with which the ease of words flow through him following it. "I'm sorry for how I treated you, for all of those things I said to you and how harsh I was in a moment of vulnerability. I should have been kind to you and thought about your feelings but all I could think about was what I wanted, what served me, how I wanted things to go and it didn't matter whether you liked it or not, because frankly, I can't remember the last time I had sex with someone where I thought about what they might want out of it. Because it scares me. Because being vulnerable and close and open with another person honestly scares the shit out of me, and I can't take the chance of doing it and getting hurt. So, I keep everyone at arm's length, hurt them so they couldn't possibly want to spend another moment with me."

Tears well up in Hongjoong's eyes as he rambles and his fingers curl into themselves atop his thighs as he goes on, and on, and on with Wooyoung watching in silence all the while. When he finally finishes, he takes in another deep breath because all of the oxygen in his lungs has since been expelled along with what he hopes is all of the dread and panic that lies so deeply embedded within him. Realistically, he knows it's going to take more than just saying it out loud to someone to truly fix it, but speaking it into the world is certainly a start.

Wooyoung's hand reaches over and finds his back, rubbing small, light circles into it as to comfort him. Hongjoong feels added guilt in the way that this has turned into a session of feeling bad for him, but doesn't really have it in him to fight one way or another.

"It's sad," he starts again, a chuckle lining his voice that's more ironically humorous than anything. "Because I actually really liked you. I remember telling Seonghwa after that first night that we met; oh, invite me out with your friend more, funny how that ends up."

Wiping the back of his hand up under one of his eyes, Hongjoong sniffles back the rest of his tears and is proud of himself for this not turning into a full-blown sob session on his part. He looks up at Wooyoung who smiles gently towards him and shrugs.

"Anyway, I don't expect you to like, accept the apology or anything, but I did owe it to you. Thanks for being so nice to me even after the fact, even when I was an asshole back at Yunho and Mingi's, you were always nice to me."

"I accept it, but I do have to be honest with you," Wooyoung says, a particular sort of coyness in his voice that sends Hongjoong through a bit of a loop. It feels out of place, like it doesn't belong in a serious conversation such as this. "I have a secret, but you can't be mad at me—"

He pauses, Hongjoong narrows his eyes at the man.

"Or Seonghwa, you can't be mad at Seonghwa either."

He remains still, perfectly frozen in place as his eyes rake over Wooyoung in nervous anticipation of what's to come. "Okay. I won't be mad. Probably. What is it?"

Tugging his bottom up between his teeth, Wooyoung grins a little bit at what must be the idea of being the only person in the room that knows something. Hongjoong's skin feels on fire with question, fingertips tingling as he awaits what he hopes is not going to be what comes.

"Seonghwa told me—a long while back—that you had feelings for me. He stopped by my job the morning after and we talked and he kind of told me everything. I mean, not everything, because you still deserve some privacy too, but like…enough to not leave me standing around thinking that I was the problem, that I did something horrible to you and was deserving of everything that happened that night. That's all I ever really needed. Just to know that it wasn't me."

Hongjoong trembles beneath the large hand that still cradles his back, because this changes everything. Changes every interaction that they've had since that night, explains why Wooyoung has been so careful and gentle with him this whole time.

He feels a little bit like a fish fileted open on a cutting board—to be picked apart and gawked at. Open and raw and it doesn't really feel good, but all things considered, it's the least he can do.

"You…knew." He leans forward to grab at the strange bottle of water, but Wooyoung quickly bats his hand away.

"Don't drink that."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't think it would be useful information until the time was right. I didn't really want to leverage the information, hold it above your head in an attempt to rip out of you an apology that you never wanted to give. If you ever apologized, I wanted it to be sincere. I wanted you to mean it, because it was the right thing to do, and I didn't want the fact that I knew you harbored feelings for me to feel like some kind of bullying tactic, especially when I know that you still—"

Hongjoong looks up, meets Wooyoung's eyes as the rest of the sentence dies out in his mouth. Quiet takes the room, but neither of them look away.

"That you still do."

Transparent as ever, another reason for the original cut-and-run strategy. Never keep people around long enough for them to figure it out to begin with. Hongjoong laughs under his breath at the perceived defeat.

"Yeah, well, probably could have played that better, huh?"

"Joong, the reason I've stuck around and been kind to you isn't because I was waiting all this time for an apology, I couldn’t give a fuck less about a proper apology ever since that conversation with Seonghwa the morning after. The reason I stuck around, is you. I just want to be around you."

Hongjoong blinks, Wooyoung continues.

"I'm not going to give you the whole hopeless romantic, love at first sight kind of spiel because I don't you really want to hear it, but when Seonghwa told me all of that stuff—and you'll have to forgive him for doing his best—he said it with every hope that I would stop pursuing anything with you."

Who could blame him?

"But when he told me everything, all I thought was here's my chance to make a difference. Here's my chance to be someone who will wait for him."

Hongjoong feels the burn creep back up into his throat, the bitter reminder that he very much feels each and every word that is being offered to him deeply and without buffer. He tries to swallow it down, clears his throat and shakes himself free of the feeling a little bit even though the stinging at the corners of his eyes tell him that he isn't going to make it out of this conversation as easily as he might have liked.

And that maybe he's going to be okay with that fact.

"Why would you wait," he huffs out, a choked sob catching at the end of the word. "You shouldn't wait for people like that."

But to that, Wooyoung shrugs, curls an arm around Hongjoong's and tugs them closer together and he nudges his nose against the side of the man's blue head.

"You've never just known?"

Hongjoong's lip quivers, desperately trying to fight back the feeling that strangles him in the best possible way that it ever has. He inhales slowly but deeply—knowing that the man next to him will hear the evident shudder laced within it.

Yeah, right now.

A hand reaches over, brushes a couple of strands of hair away from Hongjoong's forehead in such a feather-light fashion that he nearly doesn't feel it at all. The action pulls his attention back up and towards the man offering it, however, and for once he feels some kind of calmness in being seen with tear-clumpy eyelashes and dotted red eyes.

"You look so hot tonight it's stupid," he whines, features scrunching as he turns to look away from Wooyoung, who can only giggle in response. "Why would you look like this tonight of all nights?"

"Seonghwa told me you were coming, wanted to make a good fifth impression, or however many times it's been now."

"I'm not counting, but even if I were, I wouldn't tell you."

𓏵

This…isn't exactly what Hongjoong had in mind.

The reason for that, obviously, is the fact that he isn't throat-deep with dick right now, and instead is sitting down at a small, dining room table that looks like it's seen its fair share of homes and families prior to this one—a glass of cheap wine in hand, and Wooyoung grinning through the retelling of a story just off and to his left.

Wooyoung's place is nice and comforting in a way that makes it clear why he decided to move out from Yeosang's and splurge a little to have his own. The artwork lining the walls sparsely is dark and moody but cool in a way that Hongjoong sort of wouldn't have expected from the guy. The dark green glass vases hanging around on particular corners of the living space giving a luxurious vibe that they both know Wooyoung can't actually afford, but feels nice to exist within anyway.

And now? Well, now they're talking. Wooyoung is so animated when he tells a story that he sort of reminds Hongjoong of a cartoon character a little bit (a compliment,) but it demands attention and he is happy to give it. More than that, he wonders if they're going to have sex tonight, the mere possibility of it causing his skin to light afire with potential anticipation.

This whole revisiting thing isn't about the sex, though. He knows that. They have an opportunity for a second chance and damnit, they're going to take it! Hongjoong wonders if that means sex is off of the table (bad,) and if talking is the only thing they're ever going to be doing for a long time (also…kind of bad?)

Hongjoong definitely should have jerked off before leaving for the evening.

The main problem, and worse than anything else that sits at the edge of the main point, is that he doesn't really know how to engage with another person in any sort of proper, intimate way. On a logical, fundamental level yes, he knows that you should treat your sex partners nicely and be careful with not only their orifices, but their feelings too. In his head, it's obvious. In action? It's the hardest thing in the world.

Because the moment that someone gets close to him, the spikes sit up and the claws come out. There's very little brain-to-mouth filter once reaching that point, and Hongjoong wonders if it's because in order to engage in such acts, there's already a baseline level of walls coming down that has to take place. Hongjoong may not be a fully live, frayed wire sparking in the wind when he's got someone's dick down his throat, but it's pretty hard to say that he's far removed from the concept of letting anyone in, in any kind of way either.

Wooyoung can just live. He just lives his life with his heart on his sleeve, caring for people unabashedly and without boundary. He has normal sexual experiences with people where he is nice to them and takes care of them and makes sure that everyone leaves it feeling better than how they walked into it, and sure, Hongjoong tries to make sure everyone has fun, but he's not going to check in an extraordinary amount.

That face—the sound Wooyoung's voice made—when Hongjoong said something so inexplicably mean to him that night that they slept together has sat with him every moment of every day since. Burned into his memory.

"And then I said—"

"Hey." Hongjoong cuts Wooyoung off mid-storytelling, the need to say something right here, right now, overwhelming him all over again. "I'm sorry again, by the way. About that night that we…you know. When I was like oh, can you even fuck me at all, or whatever. I don't like being like that, and I could tell it really hurt your feelings. I'm sorry."

Wooyoung pouts his bottom lip out a little, reaches a hand across the scuffed glass of the table and sets it over one of Hongjoong's as a comforting gesture. Something that he knows he isn't deserving of, something much kinder than he is owed.

"Yeah," Wooyoung says low, under his breath. "You were a bit of a cunt."

Eyes widening in surprise, Hongjoong slowly turns to look at the other man, who is fighting back laughter at the way he has handled this situation. Proud of himself. Standing on top of the world.

"I have to be honest about something else, about something else I've not been completely truthful about," Wooyoung adds, leaning in closer and dropping his voice to a whisper. "I lied when I said I came. I didn't—"

He pulls back up and away, takes his wine glass in hand and clinks it against Hongjoong's stationary one while the other guy tries to put the pieces of their previous encounter together. Wooyoung is seemingly reveling in every moment of it regardless.

"Now who's the bad lay?"

Blinking through an empty look, Hongjoong stares at Wooyoung who sits ahead with an accomplished smirk on his face. Seems to have been something he's been waiting to tell, knowing the outcome that would come from it. When sex is the only thing someone's got to offer, finding out they're not even good at that? Devastating.

And so, Hongjoong bursts into tears right at the dinner table.

"Oh my God!" Wooyoung shrieks, reaches forward suddenly and grasps wildly at Hongjoong's hands, fingers, wrists, forearms. A hand on his back, on his shoulder, at the back of his neck. Anywhere he can touch that he probably thinks might offer some solace, but really, he's just wildly pawing at the man. "I was joking! Joong, oh my God. I was joking! You were fine, great—I mean, besides the obvious, right—but like, the other stuff? Awesome! Amazing. I was in my head a lot because of everything and when I get in my head…I mean, you know. You know how it can get. You know!"

Head popping up and without a single tear streaked cheek in sight, Hongjoong meets eyes with Wooyoung and grins like a mischievous cat.

He's fine.

"Good."

"Seriously?" Head cocking to the side, Wooyoung frowns in a way that makes Hongjoong feel a little giddy. He doesn't really remember the last time he just spent time with a guy that he had any sort of interest in and had fun. Fun without their dicks being involved, anyway. "You scared the shit out of me! I couldn't believe I was having to explain the technical difficulty of reaching orgasm when everything about the encounter is kind of shit. No offense."

"None taken."

Hongjoong sits back, takes a sip from his wine glass and allows his eyes to rake over Wooyoung while his attention is elsewhere for a brief moment. A message notification must have come through on the man's phone with the way he glances down to read, but Hongjoong enjoys the sight laid out in front of him. Still with that slutty little strand of hair, too. What was he thinking? What is wrong with him?

Then, he looks up. "Seonghwa told me you haven't kissed anyone in like, five years."

Hongjoong's features all scrunch together into the center of his face. "Since when does he talk so much?"

"He always has, especially when he thinks he's doing something for the greater good."

"And how does this information benefit the greater good, exactly?" Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably in his chair, shoots down the remainder of the liquid sitting in his glass.

"It's telling, for one thing," Wooyoung pushes his glass to the side and out of the way before leaning forward and folding his fingers together in front. "I tried to kiss you and you didn't let me."

"So? It's not that unheard of, lots of people don't like kissing people they're hooking up with randomly. Kissing strangers."

"Okay, well we're not hooking up randomly, and we're not strangers—" Wooyoung leans in further more. "I want to kiss you."

Throat running dry and skin feeling hot under the long sleeves of his shirt, Hongjoong sits and stares at the man who has proposed such an insane thing to him in terrified silence. He makes an effort to keep his breathing steady though it's difficult, tries to swallow some saliva to keep the moisture in his mouth but he's finding all of his normal body functions to be a little bit more challenging to manage right now. He raises a hand, goes to fit fingers around the stem of his glass only to find a rather evident tremble to it which has him immediately pulling it back and tucking himself into his lap, under the table and out of sight entirely.

Hongjoong hasn't kissed anyone since he was in college, and it wasn't anything special then, from what he remembers. Yes, he was dating someone and yes, that person absolutely soul-crushed him, but he doesn't really think that any of these things are all that important to the scenarios placed before him now that he is well into adulthood.

"Why."

It's barely even a question, more so a statement. He sort of knows why already: people who like each other usually kiss. Like, in most cases. It's a very average showing of affection. He doesn't really need an answer.

He gets one anyway.

"Because I've already had my cock down your throat, so I'm thinking it might be time we take our relationship to the next level."

Wooyoung's reply is dry and a little sarcastic, amplifying how out of order they've done everything up until this point. It drives the fact home, though, and Hongjoong doesn't really have a good argument against it aside from the usual not wanting to that he has to make a decision about soon.

A decision on whether he's going to continue to let all of this run (and ruin) his life. A decision on whether he intends to grow and heal and get better, or maintain his own, anguished status quo.

Well, at least he isn't tormented by the possibility of sex anymore. Hongjoong has much bigger problems on his plate right about now.

"Come here."

The words imply that Hongjoong is meant to make the effort to close the distance between them, but in reality, it's Wooyoung that does so. Scooting his chair closer besides the man, he takes Hongjoong's hand into his again—fits their fingers together nicely, even ignores how clammy they are—and slips his other up to sit at the back of his neck, just below shortly kept pretty blue hairs. Hongjoong locks up, freezes stone-still at the feeling of being slowly and gently pulled forward. He pulls back a little bit but Wooyoung doesn't let him escape—and suppose there's a part of him that's glad for that—because he knows himself well enough to know that he'll run away forever if given the opportunity to do so.

Their noses brush, mouths so close that Hongjoong can smell the wine on Wooyoung's breath and it makes his blood sizzle in his veins. Sure, he's already had sex with this guy, but this? This is something else entirely.

Lips touch feather-light at first—tentative and experimental, even on Wooyoung's end. He obviously doesn't want to push his luck, wants Hongjoong to well and truly get out of this if that's really what he wants to do, but it's not. Once their lips touch the first time, the seal is broken and all bets are off; Hongjoong lunges forward and pushes himself against Wooyoung's mouth, hard, like he'll die if he doesn't taste this cheap Riesling off of the wetness of his tongue.

It's a wildly needy show of affection, and especially on Hongjoong's part. Pushing and pressing into Wooyoung like he hopes that they swallow one another whole, lips part and teeth nip at each of their bottom lips—tongues experimentally meeting if only briefly—though Hongjoong is fast to press further and for more. Wooyoung pulls away slowly only seconds in, leaving the other man panting into his mouth. Eyes lidded, who knew what a little intimacy could do to a guy?

"Not so bad, huh?"

Hongjoong weighs his options for response like a character in a video game. What's going to gain him the most reputation, which is going to take him towards the ending that he's looking for.

His dick is a little hard, and just from a bit of kissing with tongue. Humiliating. Not telling him that; though he really, really should have jerked off before leaving his house tonight. Idiot.

"Can I be honest?" They separate from one another but Wooyoung remains close, and lies a palm on one of Hongjoong's thighs. He hopes he's not scanning for any of the obvious signs.

"That's probably for the best from now on, yeah."

"I want to fuck you so bad," Hongjoong whines as he sighs out the words, totally defeated in his overwhelming desire to be turned inside out by dick. "But I like you, like I actually really like you. I've never had to find a way to reconcile both of those things, it's always just been one or the other. I have sex with someone and even if I like them, I'm so mean to them that they have no interest in me after the fact anyway. Out of my hands."

"If you're mean to me again, I'll leave." Wooyoung pulls his hand back, not as a display of withholding affection but rather, so Hongjoong knows how serious he is about it. "I'm not doing that again. If you say that stuff to me one more time, then I'm getting dressed, taking my shit, and leaving. I don't care how far in, what we're doing, or if your balls will be as blue as your hair is."

Fair, though it certainly puts a particular amount of pressure on Hongjoong to perform, as it were. No more opportunities, no slip-ups afforded to him. Wooyoung knows his worth, knows what is and isn't acceptable behavior from a partner and has even dealt with it first-hand from Hongjoong already. Alternatively, Hongjoong knows that he's skating on a very fine line of God's favor to even be sitting here with this guy at all, so, yeah. Best behavior.

"As for the fucking you part." Wooyoung's hand slips back to Hongjoong's thigh, the touch feels like it's searing through the fabric of his pants with how sultry the words fall out from between the other man's lips. "I guess that depends, doesn't it? Can you be good?"

Dear God, yes. "Ew, don't say it like that you little pervert."

"Fine."

Tugged up from his seat, Hongjoong is dragged a little forcefully away from the table and down the hallway where the bedroom obviously awaits. Wooyoung has a pretty tight grasp of his wrist in hand and Hongjoong can't help but notice how much bigger his seem to be in comparison to his own. Worse than that, the realization of such a thing makes him feel just a little bit dizzier. They've barely had anything to drink this evening so that isn't the problem—it's sort of just the culmination of, well, everything else.

Pushing his door open with a foot, Wooyoung stops and pushes Hongjoong in ahead, he stumbled a little with the manhandling and the tight pressing of his eyebrows together alerts of it, but when Wooyoung crosses the room and this time—without even an ounce of hesitation—fits their mouths together, Hongjoong realizes he sort of doesn't care all that much about it after all.

A few uncoordinated steps backwards as lead by Wooyoung, fingers hurriedly slotting buttons out of their little holes on Hongjoong's shirt and shimmying the fabric off of his shoulders and down to the floor as quickly as he can manage without breaking the kiss to the best of his ability, Hongjoong's head spins with the urgency sitting within each and every movement. He's reminded that he doesn't really deserve this, doesn't deserve to be here and to have another shot at making this right because he already blew it the first time. He tries to remember back to the last time he slept with the same guy twice and can't. Or doesn't want to.

Wooyoung's dress shirt is next, just as quickly discarded into the pile before Hongjoong is pushed back onto the plush mattress below. The linens are nice and soft, a duvet that's a lot fluffier than the one he has back at home and the filthiest thought he's had all evening comes to him abruptly as a result of it. How he wouldn't mind sleeping here beneath it.

And as much as he would like to spend time chastising himself for that, he can't, because his belt is unfastened and his pants are already being yanked down his legs as Wooyoung sits perched between his knees. One end sits mangled at Hongjoong's left ankle, yet to be freed, which is sort of annoying until he feels the warm kiss of the other man's lips to the inside of his thigh, and then the inviting, firm press of a palm right on top of the place where his underwear tent.

A hiss? Gasp? He doesn't even really know what to make of it, just knows his hips move a little involuntarily to meet the source of touch and that it's kind of humiliating if he's honest. Wooyoung does huff out a small giggle under his breath, but doesn't bother to acknowledge it any more than that. Arms curl under his legs then and pull him forward to the edge of the bed, fingertips slip under the elastic waistband of the fabric that still keeps him somewhat hidden, and Hongjoong inhales sharply with the sudden, crashing understanding of exactly what it is that's about to happen.

He closes his eyes, deep, steady breaths to ground himself. Tries to ignore the feeling of flesh on flesh once his dick is freed, tries to ignore the shift that the man between his legs makes to position himself better for the task. Tries to ignore the fact that he hasn't received a blowjob for almost as long as it's been since he's kissed someone—because being on the receiving end of intimacy is far more vulnerability than Hongjoong has been willing to show anyone for a very, very long time, and now it's all happening really, really fast.

But he wants to, wants to allow this to happen to him. To normal people, the act of receiving oral sex is sort of a no brainer, because yeah, obviously you want this to happen. Not so easy for him, we're traversing extremely uncharted territory in Hongjoong's emotional stability now.

Wooyoung's tongue teases and tastes at him first, but doesn't really waste any time before wrapping warm, wet lips around and sinking down. When is the last time you even let someone touch your dick? Hongjoong wonders to himself, and again, can't or doesn't want to trace it back. His breath hitches at the feeling and Wooyoung lifts off only to sink down again and a little further, tongue twisting around the tip of him when the space in his mouth is ample for doing so and Hongjoong's fingers dig tightly into the sheets below him. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. He lies perfectly still there as Wooyoung settles into a rather languid pace along his cock, like he's terrified of moving, terrified of doing the wrong thing even though he knows that the only wrong thing he could really do right now is make some slick remark about how this guy can't even suck dick right. Which is laughably false, too.

There's a touch at his hand suddenly, and it pries one of his eyes open to scope out the scene; Wooyoung reaches up towards one of Hongjoong's white-knuckled grips into the linens, unclenches it and drags it up and to the back of his head. Hongjoong looks down for the first time, sees the way Wooyoung happily and enthusiastically swallows him down and audibly whimpers in defeat as his head falls back against the cushioning below.

Unfortunately, Wooyoung's hair is gelled, which is very annoying and not something that Hongjoong has considered for himself in the past, not that he would have ever cared in the past either. He remembers telling Wooyoung that night that they were together the first time how it was okay to mess up his hair is, goes ahead and makes an executive decision that that is also probably the case here—thus, painted fingernails dig further into the dark strands, unlocking them from one another and instead tightening just slightly within his grasp. Wooyoung moans around his cock as a result, Hongjoong pushes down and arches up in response.

"Mm, fuck, I—"

The words die out in Hongjoong's throat just as quickly as he tries to get them out, Wooyoung taking him far into the back of his mouth and bumping the tip bluntly in a way that makes his vision blurry. It's been a long time—too long—he doesn't really want to come right now but fuck is that becoming more and more difficult to reel back by the second.

Wooyoung moans again, Hongjoong looks down and happens to connect their eyes once he does. This does not help matters, but he can't really look away with how fucking unbelievable this guy looks with cock in his mouth. Is this how I look when I do this? Now he sort of thinks Wooyoung would have to kill him in order to be mean enough to not want to call him again the next day.

But his orgasm is sneaking up on him quickly with how incredibly into sucking cock Wooyoung is. The slurping, the choice gagging, the perfectly timed hand stroking is all just a little bit too much for Hongjoong's incredibly lacking sensory management. So, he makes a decision; gives himself a few more good, hard yanks of Wooyoung's delectable, hot mouth onto his cock as he meets the motion halfway with his own hips—really lets himself get into it, feel it all—before he sucks air in harshly through his teeth and hurriedly motions for Wooyoung to pull off of him.

"St'p, st'p, wait. 'M gonna—"

He does as told, pops off of Hongjoong's cock audibly and sits back on his feet with a pleased grin made of lips red from use.

Hongjoong swallows hard, takes in full, deep breaths to center himself again as his dick twitches with want from sitting so closely on the edge of release.

"Don't want to come yet."

"Why?"

He sits up suddenly, stares down at Wooyoung with narrow eyes. "Because I want to come when we. You know."

Wooyoung hums. "You talk about sex so strangely when you have to actually be involved in it. So round-about."

He stands then, pulls at his own belt and makes use of the time between them as Hongjoong mulls over the words that the man is saying. He's right, he knows he's right. It's weird when he has to actually be present and in the moment, to say weird, vulgar, nasty things to or about someone that he might—and God forbid—actually have genuine feelings for.

Hongjoong doesn't want to take the chance of Madonna-Whore Complex'ing this situation though. He eyes the large, familiar tenting in the front of Wooyoung's undergarments and thinks back to mere moments ago where nothing in the entire world sounded more enticing to him than fucking his cum down this guy’s throat.

Yeah, he's probably fine.

Motioning for the other to scoot up, Hongjoong creates space for Wooyoung and thus, he slots himself between those very same thighs all over again. Caging Hongjoong in against the bed, gazing down at him, an adoring smile plastered across his face that makes Hongjoong feel far more naked than the lack of clothing between them does.

"Is it because it's not a performance now?"

Dipping down, Wooyoung drops his lips onto Hongjoong's lightly, less intent than before but rather just a simple offering of affection and care. Inside of his chest, however, Hongjoong's heart twists with torment because he certainly is learning a lot of things about himself tonight, and maybe some of them necessary, but he definitely hadn't been prepared by any means.

They share a kiss for a moment before Wooyoung's face drops down to trail kisses down his neck, and Hongjoong is left to stare up at the ceiling in thought before finally deciding on acknowledging the fact once and for all.

"Yeah, that probably is it."

"Do you still want to do more, or is this getting to be a little bit too much?"

Hongjoong appreciates the check-in, but he didn't jerk off before coming here (something that has remained ever present on his mind since stepping out of his house), and he might actually lose his fucking mind if he doesn't get off. That's what he tells himself anyway, because it's easier to put the onus of this on his dick, and what his dick wants. Less about him, and his nasty, gross feelings.

"No, I'm okay, I want to—you know."

Wooyoung drags his attention back up to look Hongjoong in the eye, rolls his own at the fact that he can't even say he wants to get fucked but apparently decides against pressing the issue and instead leans back to dig through his bedside drawer. Hongjoong doesn't watch, pretends he doesn't see it like when he's standing in line waiting for his number to be called and it's clearly his turn—just waits for the number to blink up on the board, even though no one else is standing in front of him any longer.

"You want me to do it, or do you want to?" Wooyoung pops the cap to the bottle tentatively, Hongjoong glances down the length of his body to acknowledge this despite not really wanting to.

"Uh, you do it. You were—" he pauses, here's his chance. Say something nice. "Good at it. Last time. I liked it when you did it."

"Aww," Wooyoung coos, playing up the delight in hearing the kind words thrown his way. He makes quick work of coating his middle finger and then slips it down to settle where it's needed. A slow, careful drive. Hongjoong's back arches a little at the feeling but settles into it with ease. "See? Not so bad, is it? Being all sweet and vulnerable."

"You don't have to make a big deal out of it."

The finger inside of him curls, digs at that particular spot that has his toes curling and his teeth gritting. Whines out into the open air as Wooyoung chuckles with glee at having the upperhand.

"Be niceys!"

He retracts, adds a little more lubricant and then fits back in with a second finger. Hongjoong pants a little into the feeling—it's so much more than he remembers it—probably because he's far more present this time, probably because he's actually paying attention and not just in a hurry to make the both of them come so that this interaction can be done and over with.

Fingernails digging into the bed below and eyes screwed shut, small, breathy curses fall from his lips as Wooyoung's hand settles into a mild but intentional rhythm. Sitting on his heels between Hongjoong's legs, he delivers feathered kisses to the sensitive skin of the man's knees—a clean palm smoothing up thigh and wrapping lazily around his neglected dick.

Hongjoong whimpers at the contact, at the feeling of both. He is no stranger to letting people inside of his body, but to be laid out in such a way and the subject of all of the pleasure, all of the attention—it sets his skin on fire, feeling hot to his own touch when he slings an arm up and over his face as if in an attempt to hide himself behind it.

But he has grown impatient, too.

"'Kay, fuck, I want—want you, please."

"You sure?" Wooyoung digs his fingers in deeper, drags at the insides with purpose so that Hongjoong melts even more into the touch.

"Yes, yes," he chants, breathless already. "Wooyo, please."

"Fine." Pulling away, Wooyoung wipes his hand lazily and then tugs open at the condom wrapper brought bedside earlier. He rolls it on slowly, making sure it's right, but takes a second to glance up towards Hongjoong and meet the eyes that have been staring him down. "But…"

Craning over the body laid out beneath him, Wooyoung holds the base of his cock, presses the tip of himself against and then slowly in, and lets Hongjoong feel every slow, aching inch of stretch against him as he sinks inside with a bitten back hiss. He doesn't finish the thought until their hips are pressed firm together, cock nestled wholly inside of the body of the other, and lips slotted with want against each other to swallow their uneven breaths.

Wooyoung brings a hand up, digs fingers into Hongjoong's blue hair and gives it a light tug—not so much with any purpose, and more to serve as a reminder that he—they—are very much there.

"You—" Wooyoung whispers against the corner of Hongjoong's mouth, making him shiver with the contact, drags his lips down the man's jawline and nips at the skin just below his ear before finishing the thought finally. "Are going to have to make me come this time."

A defeated grunt huffs up and out from deep in Hongjoong's chest, a result of the small amount of pain being exacted upon his scalp. "Have you been holding that against me this whole time? God, maybe I liked you better when I wasn't letting you talk."

Hips drag back, followed by a swift and pointed drive forward. The motion punches a gasp out of Hongjoong's lungs that he didn't even know was resting there. Wooyoung's fingers curl a little bit tighter into the hair, his other hand now falling lower and settling at the place where Hongjoong's hip and bended upward leg meet. Fingers dig into the flesh—Hongjoong feels every curve of nails into the skin—and it's sharp enough that it pulls his attention there, though it's short-lived when he is on the receiving end of another hard, stretching stroke of deliverance further down between his legs.

The sound that he lets out is so pathetic, so wounded sounding that it embarrasses even himself. Wooyoung feels fucking divine inside of him, way better than the first time, and it takes everything in him to compose himself enough to get through this interaction while maintaining some sembalance of normalcy. Lips travel all over the skin that they can find, occasionally meeting teeth with harsh nips that send Hongjoong's head spiraling just a bit more with the thought that maybe there will be marks left behind in the aftermath of all this. That someone wants to leave evidence of their claim upon him. That even more than all of that: he's okay with it.

And to add insult to injury: Wooyoung sounds so fucking heavenly as he builds himself up to his release. Every press of his hips forward, every long, tip-to-base grind of his cock inside of Hongjoong pulling an airy gasp, a throaty groan from inside of him that Hongjoong can feel teetering on every nerve ending in his body. Hot, slick skin made so as a result of the eroticism on display only heightened by the puffs of breath from the man that feel cool in comparison to the way that his own skin is set on fire below.

Hongjoong wants to come, but he wants to hear Wooyoung come a hundred times more.

But truth be told, he's already wound so tightly that he's close to meeting his end anyway. With every rhythmic movement of Wooyoung on top of him, the press of their bodies together is just enough to give friction to his neglected cock that lies trapped between. Under normal circumstances it probably wouldn't be enough, not enough of a touch to get him where he needs to go, but tonight? With things going the way that they are? Hongjoong is kind of starting to believe in the unthinkable.

Shifting beneath Wooyoung in an attempt to get a better angle, it works but also results in the glide of cock inside of him to punch out another pained, pitiful sound. The shivers crawling up his damp flesh, the way all of the little hairs stand up on end; he isn't going to make it much longer like this.

Hongjoong gasps out, makes some sort of wretched noise in an attempt to let Wooyoung know that he's close because he's already too far gone and let it slip too far out of his hands to be able to form actual words now. This is quite possibly the worst thing he could have done, he realizes, once the guy fucking him catches on and he sees the sinister curl to the corners of his lips as they hang up above.

"Mm, close baby?" Wooyoung hums, impudent and reveling in the sight. "Still can't say the words even though I'm dug so deep inside of you?"

There's another sound made, though it's far more indescribable. Hongjoong screws his eyes shut, grips hard at Wooyoung's arms that he hopes he draws blood for how insufferable he's being through all of this, grinds up and against the movements being delivered down and against him because he wants, needs, it so desperately that he can't even really help himself. Body moving on its own, betraying any sense of resilience he may have had upon going into this endeavor. All gone now. Now, Hongjoong unabashedly needs to feel. Needs to have and be had and be taken and wanted and maybe—probably—even liked.

His brain is hazy and he can't tell Wooyoung what he wants to tell him. That he feels so good and he's happy and shower him with the praise that he very much deserves and has worked hard to achieve. It's not a weird hang-up this time, no—

It's that he's plain and simple being fucked dumb.

Unfortunately (happy for you or sorry that happened?), Wooyoung catches on and figures it out, because the next thing out of his mouth as his exhales tremble and his hips falter just ever so slightly is quite possibly even worse than the other thing previously said.

"Ohh, you're just fucked so full of me you can't talk at all, huh?" One, single drive pushed forward—much harder than the ones before—that shoves Hongjoong a bit up the length of the bed and has him crying out so loudly that one hand flies up to cover his own mouth in horror. "Should have done this the first time around."

Cheeky, not funny though! Hongjoong inhales fast and sharp, so much so that it's almost dizzying but it's the best he can do when he catches just the right drag of his cock against the soft, warm flesh of both of their stomachs to tip him over the edge. His whole body shudders, eyes shut painfully tight as he clenches his teeth through the first few seconds of his orgasm and then allows his mouth to hang useless agape through the rest—a silent cry that's ripped from him as he comes—harder than he thinks he ever has, harder than he has in a good many years, at least.

Wooyoung pulls up a little bit through it, not wanting to interrupt when it's the worst time to do so; lets Hongjoong ride it out and use his body to get himself through the peak of it and then settles back on his heels and takes Hongjoong's waist into one hand and his cock into the other—continues fucking him, keeps on stroking him and milking him until he's whining and writhing against the mattress that cradles him. His cum making the slide so easy already, Wooyoung tightens his grip and squeezes just right to find the beading at the tip, and Hongjoong nearly sobs into the bend of his arm.

A louder groan is pulled from Wooyoung, no doubt at the sight as it lies splayed out before him. His hips stutter, Hongjoong removes his arm and snaps himself back to the task at hand—he's tired, and he's spent—but this isn't the entirety of what he set out to do tonight, so he reaches forward and messily grabs at the other man's hand all covered in his own mess and filthy, drags it up and snugly wraps his lips around the cum-coated digits of Wooyoung's hand that have done more than enough work to get him where he needed to go.

Tongue pressed out and flat, Hongjoong makes a show out of it. Yeah, tonight isn't about pretending to be an actor at the Adult Entertainment Awards, but he wants to see Wooyoung come, he needs to fucking see Wooyoung come, and at this point in time, he's going to do whatever it fucking takes to get what he wants.

And as strong-willed as the man is, he is but a man, after all. Wooyoung's eyebrows knit so tightly together as he presses his hand forward like a man possessed—further, further to the back of Hongjoong's throat like it's never ending, like he's trying to choke him with the remainder of his own cum. It works a little; Hongjoong gags around the intrusion for a brief second (though it's for show, he knows what a man on the precipice of orgasm is trying to see), before tightly locking his lips around them and sucking with an intense swirl of his tongue around. That does the trick, Wooyoung's face twists into something almost pained at the sight of it and his other hand still holding Hongjoong's lower half in place for fucking tightens for further abuse. Harder, faster drives until he whimpers and groans and hisses out a cuss as he comes, cock buried impossibly deep inside of the man beneath him and with a bruisingly hard grip into the skin within his grasp.

Since Hongjoong has had a moment to recover, he takes it as an opportunity to watch the way Wooyoung's demeanor shifts back to that of a man who isn't willing to do unspeakable things in order to fuck his cum into a warm hole. His chest heaves with each and every shaky breath, head bowed and slowly releasing his fingers from Hongjoong's hip. When he slowly looks up, it's only then that he seems to notice his hand still fitted snugly between Hongjoong's lips—not that he cares—slowly sucking and licking like it's the aftermath of a blowjob he hasn't even given regardless of the fact.

Wooyoung retracts his hand, smooths his thumb over the messy wetness of Hongjoong's bottom lip before he pulls himself away entirely and clears his throat from the lump of dry, hoarseness that's collected there. Instead, that hand finds a different task: gripping the base of his cock and slowly removing himself from the other man's warmth.

It's silent in the room, aside from their breaths. Too silent, but for whatever reason that he can't quite place, Hongjoong is at peace with that.

He grins, so wide that it's practically ear-to-ear. "Did you come?"

Wooyoung chuckles, tries to reply but the sound comes out all fucked up and gravely to the point that it doesn't even sound like a word. He coughs, tries again. "Yeah, shut up."

"Oh, now he wants to shut up," Hongjoong sing-songs, and with as much annoyance as he can possibly muster up. "Guy who couldn't shut the hell up the whole entire time now wants me to shut up."

Wooyoung pulls the condom off, discards it in a tissue and then disappears into the bathroom to get rid of it the rest of the way. Doesn't even bother getting dressed at all, which makes sense once he comes back in and slings himself lazily onto the bed beside his lover.

Hongjoong lies beside him with his head propped up on his hand, still grinning. He's starting to wonder if this feeling is some sort of side effect of something. Don't tell him what though.

It's been so long, so many years that he has enjoyed a moment like this with another person. As Wooyoung lies beside him with eyes closed, still attempting to find his bearings, Hongjoong looks over him with a certain kind of adoration in his eye that he supposes has always been there a little bit, but now has only taken root and grown wildly lush in such a disproportionately short amount of time. They barely know each other, but they've kind of been through a lot together for what it's worth.

"So," he finally says, reaches over and starts drawing invisible shapes into Wooyoung's still-hot skin next to him. "What are we?"

Hongjoong's tone is playful and cute when he says it, like he knows the answer already and he likes to think that he already does. It's not often that he's so sure of something, and especially not when it comes to another person. A newfound willingness to let somebody into more than just his body, but into his mind, into his life. Share things with him and create new memories together that go beyond a terrible one night stand that's so atrocious neither even want to tell their friends about it for the story.

It's been a long time since Hongjoong has been in love, and he isn't as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as Wooyoung is to go as far as to think that he might be right now. The sex was fucking phenomenal, but he's got to keep his head on straight about this.

Maybe he's not in love, but it certainly feels like a precursor to it. The preliminaries of being in love. A preamble, of sorts.

Wooyoung sucks in a big breath of air and then turns to look at him with a set of eyes that tell a story that Hongjoong feels as though he sort of already knows. Hongjoong fell fast, Wooyoung fell faster. That's simply always the way it was going to go.

The difference is that now Hongjoong has reached a place where he is willing to let his partner fall hard and fast, and he will be there right beside him to make sure that Wooyoung never has to crash and burn again.

"Married," Wooyoung says, not a hint of comedy to his voice. This tracks, as far as Hongjoong is concerned. "I've been meaning to ask you what size ring you wear."

"What do you mean you've been meaning to ask me? Half of our time knowing each other has been contentious at best."

Turning over and onto his side, Wooyoung snuggles up against Hongjoong's torso, wrapping a still-sweaty arm over the body beside him that elicits a far from pleased grunt from the guy on the receiving end of it. Hongjoong wants to take a shower—still covered in his own cum that's now drying and crusting on his stomach.

Part of him can't even believe that he's still lying here at all.

"Since the first night," Wooyoung answers, eyes closed and nose pressed up into his lover's shoulder. "I remember thinking something along those lines. Made myself laugh."

"Not so funny now, is it?" Bringing a hand up, Hongjoong cards it through Wooyoung's messy hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear idly. Really, he just wants an excuse to touch him more. "This is probably what they mean when they say fuck around and find out."

"I want to date you." The words slip out from Wooyoung's lips almost before Hongjoong even finishes the lighthearted joke. His eyes widen a little with shock—unsure as to why, because it shouldn't be all that surprising. It must be the suddenness of it all, or maybe just the fact that Hongjoong still hasn't quite reached a place where he thinks himself worthy of being loved for anything beyond what he has already given tonight.

Wooyoung pries himself up and off of Hongjoong, leans himself on his elbow and looks at him like it's the most serious thing he has ever said. He's not typically a very serious guy, so on the surface, it wouldn't seem like much. This is different. A gaze unrelenting, and Hongjoong feels the sincerity of it so deep inside of his soul.

"Seriously. I want to date you, get to know you—" his eyes dance downward, Hongjoong catches the mischievous glint in his eye but it's too late, a finger has already begun picking at the dry coat of cum tightening over his stomach. Gross. "Do this more."

Don't think about it so hard, just fucking go with it.

"Okay." Hongjoong blinks a few times because his brain is numb but eventually he realizes that a simple okay isn't really going to cut it as far as responses to this sort of thing go. "Yeah, I mean yeah, okay. Me too, I want to do that too. Date you, I mean. Not date myself. Unless I look as hot giving a blowjob as you do, then maybe."

"You do," Wooyoung confirms, smiles wide and shoves himself all up in Hongjoong's personal space to plant repeated kisses onto his face and lips. "But you can't have them, they're for me."

Fingers come up to find the sharp groove of Hongjoong's jaw, pull his attention towards Wooyoung and join their mouths once more. There's more teeth than usual, and it's hard to get much done through the smiles and laughter, but maybe sometimes that's just for the best.

𓏵

"Happy birthday! To my two favorite very insane people."

The entire group cheers in unison once Seonghwa sounds off with the initiation of the celebration, and glasses of champagne are poured sloppily by Yeosang as he attempts to make the rounds through a crowd of people who have no intention of making his job easy on him.

Wooyoung cocks his head to the side, eyes closed and a thin, wide smile like he's the proudest guy on earth for…having a birthday, it seems. Very him. He enjoys the showers of praise and affection and as far as Hongjoong is concerned, he's incredibly worthy of it, too.

And next to him, Hongjoong stands a little dumbfounded at how it is that they made it this far. Having lasted the better part of a year together and happier now than when they first laid eyes upon each other—if one could even believe it. His glass sits in hand and he stands off to the side a bit so that everyone can fawn over Wooyoung just the way that he likes it.

Hongjoong doesn't really need anything for his birthday, because he's sort of got everything he could want right at home already.

There's a gentle nudge to his arm—Seonghwa has slinked up beside him and glances down with a knowing upturn to one corner of his lips. Smug. He still, to this day, tries to take all of the credit for their getting together—an impressive rewriting of history with all of the ways he ignores how he had insisted that the two of them never talk to the other ever again.

"How are things going?"

Things, is code for therapy, and it's going well. There's still a kind of creeping discomfort that edges up under his skin every time he's asked about it, like it serves as a reminder of how broken or damaged he is. Has to tell himself that that's not true, has to remind himself that he's doing the work, and that's what counts.

"Good, really good."

"You know he's going to want to take this thing to the next level soon. You know how Wooyoung is."

Hongjoong recoils in disgust, an exaggerated display. "Oh God, is he gonna want to have sex with me?"

It earns him another elbow in the arm. "You know what I mean."

A beat of silence falls between them, and Hongjoong takes it as an opportunity to find his boyfriend once again in the crowd. What he finds is Wooyoung doing a beer bong with the assistance of Yeosang and San, he can't say that he's all that surprised.

He is madly in love though.

"Anniversary is right around the corner," Hongjoong says, a slow sip of bubbly tickling at his lips as Seonghwa listens on. "And yeah, suppose we are well past the preliminaries now."