Archive of Our Own

Some people, he thinks, are born to be stars. Fans and critics alike can talk about hard work or raw talent or visuals all they want, but there are the few who are innately gifted with something. Something that makes heads swivel when they walk into a room, something that draws people in effortlessly. No one embodies this better than Zhang Hao.

It's not quite charisma because Hanbin knows plenty of people with charisma and none of them remotely measure up to Zhang Hao in his element, but it is something in the same ballpark. Hanbin feels blessed to just be living at the same time as him, to be fortunate enough to witness his magnificence. And not only that — he exists alongside Zhang Hao, moving and smiling and pouting in tandem with him. Zhang Hao himself may not be aware but that’s irrelevant; Hanbin exists for him.

Here's what Hanbin knows about Zhang Hao:

No, scratch that. It would be a hell of a lot easier to say what he doesn't know about him. So here's what he doesn't know about Zhang Hao:

Nothing.

His phone lights up with an incoming call from Matthew, who jumps straight into his question as soon as Hanbin picks up. “Hyung, you going out today?”

Hanbin looks up from his laptop. “In the evening, yeah.” He knows Zhang Hao will be relaxing in his apartment now, probably recuperating from the hellish week of schedules he's been put through, but he has a brand event later which Hanbin is hoping to catch him at. There's no way he can get into the venue but Hanbin would be happy with a glimpse of him arriving outside, as he always is. “Why?”

Matthew groans. “Ah, that's too bad. I'm still pet-sitting Taerae's dog because he comes back from Busan tomorrow, but something came up and I don't want to leave her alone. She has the worst case of separation anxiety I've ever seen, I think I'm actually going to talk to Taerae about it.”

Hanbin forces a noise of sympathy. “Sorry, Matthew, but I really am busy tonight. I'm sure someone else will be free.”

“No way you can change it?” Matthew wheedles, and Hanbin's eyes lift to the ceiling. He has no idea why Matthew still tries this with him, not when Hanbin's answer is always the same. Matthew's tone abruptly switches to one of glee: “Oh! I know, I know. Hot date tonight, huh?”

“In a sense,” he says after a beat, briefly losing himself in a daydream of what Zhang Hao will look like on the red carpet tonight. The styling at these events never lives up to Hanbin's expectations, never accentuates Zhang Hao's best features in the way that Hanbin wants to see, but he allows himself to imagine it. He'll look stunning anyway, of course, but in an ideal world he'll wear clothing that Hanbin picked out beforehand: an outfit that combines to say you can look, but you can't touch.

In a really ideal world then Hanbin himself would complete this picture, a smile fixed on his face and a hand splayed over Zhang Hao's waist so everyone knows exactly who he belongs to. Maybe he'll be able to inch his hand lower and lower as the evening progresses, whisper something scandalous into Zhang Hao's ear and have him playfully hit his chest in reprimand, get him a little tipsy and persuade him into one of the gleaming bathroom stalls—

“Helloooooo,” Matthew is calling out from the speaker. “Hyung? Are you there?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat to erase the rasp from his voice. “Sorry, got a little distracted at something on my laptop.”

Matthew hums. “I was just asking you what this mystery man is like. Is he cute?”

Hanbin already wants to end this conversation. The only reason he even still speaks to Matthew is because an attempt to cut off their friendship once before had gone badly. Years ago, when Hanbin decided that he wanted to devote more of himself to Zhang Hao, he had blocked all of his friends’ contacts on his phone and deleted his social media. The intention was to completely disappear off the face of the earth but he’d forgotten that Matthew knew where he lived. He’d turned up to Hanbin’s apartment, annoyed and belligerent, and eventually Hanbin had agreed that they would continue keeping in touch. He's made efforts since then to shake him off but nothing sticks, so here he is.

Now, as he always does, he lies. “Yeah, he’s cute.” His mind drifts. “Nice eyes. And a nice mouth.”

“Is he cuter than Hao?” Matthew teases.

Okay, perhaps he doesn't always lie. “No,” he snaps immediately, then forces a brittle laugh before Matthew can dwell on that. “I mean, no one is cuter than Hao-hyung. You know he's—”

“Your ideal type, yes, hyung, I know,” Matthew interrupts impatiently. “I've heard enough drunken rambling from you on that topic.” He neglects to mention that that was also years ago. Hanbin has accrued far more creative ways of expressing his attraction to Zhang Hao when he’s drunk. “Well, anyway. I hope you have a nice time!” He adds, more hesitant: “Maybe we can meet up when you have some free time? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hanbin says vaguely, both of them knowing no such plans will be made. Hanbin has more important things to do with his time. “Bye, Matthew. Good luck with the dog.”

Matthew echoes his sentiments, the end of his sentence cut off when Hanbin hangs up on him. He glances at the clock. He has a couple of hours before he has to leave and meet Zhang Hao at the red carpet.

He’s still thinking about his dream outfit for Zhang Hao tonight. What he has in mind is similar to what Zhang Hao wore at the 2022 Golden Disc Awards — he looked stunning that night. Coiffed, blood-red hair; a lone silver stud earring; eyeliner and lip gloss and a smidge of eyeshadow and under-eye glitter; tailored black slacks which hugged his thighs and ass; a bedazzled waistcoat over a crisp white shirt. Plain, as far as fashion goes, but as far as K-pop fashion goes it was striking. The outfit was surely helped by its model.

Hanbin had been pleasantly surprised by the styling. It’s how he would have made up Zhang Hao if given the chance, if allowed to run his hands over Zhang Hao’s perfect body under the pretence of checking the fit and smoothing out creases. He wouldn’t have the strength to resist a waist squeeze either, just gently enough that Zhang Hao would squeak in shock but not tear out of his hold. No, he couldn’t come on too strong. They would have to be quick, too, before his manager comes knocking.

Hanbin pushes his laptop away and reaches for his zipper.

He has a bit of a routine, one that he's largely followed for years.

He's a natural early riser, always has been. It's more convenient this way, having his first port of call be to immediately check if he's missed anything overnight, but he would have happily changed his sleep schedule for Zhang Hao regardless. Zhang Hao himself hardly ever posts anything while Hanbin is sleeping, but sometimes the brands he works with release short clips of him modelling clothing or talking to the camera. Hanbin screenshots every frame of these and watches them on repeat for a good five minutes, smiling softly to himself while he studies every pixel of Zhang Hao's face. He often detects causes for concern: Zhang Hao's under-eye circles have darkened even with the cover of make-up, his lips are chapped, his cheekbones look a little sharper, he's shivering slightly as he talks (what kind of monster makes him film in a freezing warehouse without a jacket?).

There are times his worry shapes into anger. These are small things, things which most people would dismiss or not even notice. But there is nothing Hanbin takes more seriously than Zhang Hao's wellbeing. It's a reminder that the people around Zhang Hao are abjectly failing in their job to take care of him; if Hanbin were by his side then this conversation would be non-existent. He would ensure that Zhang Hao could sleep for as long as he wanted, would painstakingly tend to Zhang Hao's lips and keep them glossy and perfect, would feed him three meals a day and ply him with snacks, would wrap him up in his own jacket and hat if he couldn't warm him up with his body heat. It's a daydream he frequently loses himself to.

(He seriously considered it, once, when Yuehua opened up manager applications for BR1GHT. He doesn't care one iota about the other members but that was inconsequential; the thought of spending practically every waking moment looking after Zhang Hao was a dream come true. But he decided he couldn't risk it. A step too far, a breach of their usual paper-thin boundary. There's a possibility he would have seemed too familiar and he doesn't ever want Zhang Hao to look at him with fear in his eyes. Besides, isn't it a certain kind of love to dedicate himself from afar instead?)

After he does the rounds online he makes himself a quick breakfast and heads to the gym, lifting weights and running on the treadmill to the sound of Zhang Hao singing in his ears. Zhang Hao's solo songs are on the slower side, not exactly built for gym workouts, but Hanbin is always happy to listen to his voice uninterrupted. Before his solo debut, Hanbin would have to listen to BR1GHT songs instead and curse whenever one of the other members’ voices would filter through his headphones. That was before he realised he could just stitch all of Zhang Hao's album lines together and listen to him like that, perfectly undisturbed. Bliss.

After working out, he showers and leaves himself enough time to spare that he can write his daily Bubble messages afterwards. Every morning he sends them at 8 a.m. on the dot. Hanbin has been subscribed to him for so long that he can write for practically as long as he wishes. His messages range from heartfelt essays waxing poetic about Zhang Hao's singular kindness, to comparing his beauty to the sky, to anniversary posts where Hanbin summarises their last year together and thanks him for existing. Sometimes he'll send simple reminders too with some cute stickers: hyung has to eat a lot of delicious food to keep his strength up~ or the days are getting colder, make sure to dress warmly!!

He makes sure to send off the same way that he does his letters, a simple B so Zhang Hao knows it’s him. A minute later, the little 1s disappear next to his messages. He likes this part of his routine specifically: 8 a.m. send messages, 8:01 a.m. Zhang Hao comes online to read them. It's clockwork apart from when they're abroad. Then, Hanbin hunkers down in his room just a floor underneath the hotel room Zhang Hao is staying in and analyses his schedule with a critical eye so he can guess when exactly Zhang Hao will wake up to catch his flight.

His days largely consist of trailing after Zhang Hao, no more than five steps behind. Sometimes his camera will be in his hands as he waits for the perfect shot at the airport or at a concert, a crowd of his fellow fansites next to him hoping for the same. Sometimes he'll only bring himself when he wants to covet this Zhang Hao for him and him alone — when he pops to the nearest convenience store, for example, or takes a nighttime walk along the river with his headphones firmly situated over his ears.

Hanbin worries, is the thing. Even he can admit that it's to an obsessive extent. Not only about how much he's eating or whether he's happy, but whether he's safe. He's not so naïve to think that no one else also wants to covet Zhang Hao. But where Hanbin is patient, others are rash. Even if Zhang Hao never spares him a glance for the rest of his life then he wouldn't complain. But if someone else is too greedy for Zhang Hao's attention, too unhinged—it could lead to trouble. It would be so easy for someone to harm Zhang Hao when he's alone like this, so it's only logical for Hanbin to follow behind and protect him.

These outings are convenient for him too. Three months ago Zhang Hao had bought his own apartment in Seocho-gu and Hanbin had followed him there, shelling out for a two-bedroom apartment just down the street from him. They live a one-minute walk from each other.

When Zhang Hao’s apartment light flicks on and Hanbin is confident that he’s safe and secure inside, he takes his leave.

At the end of the day, when he's winding down in bed, he checks Postype for any updates. If he had more time on his hands then he would be posting his own Zhang Hao fanfiction, because the characterisation in the current works is severely lacking. Zhang Hao is not mean, or rude, or cold-hearted. In fact, he’s too kind for his own good. Yet hardly any of these authors capture that and instead prefer to paint him as some sneering top or, God forbid, an alpha. All Hanbin wants to do is read about Zhang Hao being protected and pampered and coddled, with some fucking too for good measure, but hardly anyone seems to agree with him on this front. He’s even tried out some of the big Neulseo fics, just to see if he was missing something, but only achieved disgust. That foray into the other side only served to bolster his view that so many of Zhang Hao’s shippers only want to make Zhang Hao into something he’s not. He’s not ashamed to say that there have been multiple times that he’s engaged in lengthy arguments in the comment section before the author ended up blocking him.

The Gyubneul shippers, despite flanderising him on the other end of the spectrum, at least get more aspects of his personality correct. Currently he's reading a sprawling epic set in the Joseon era about Zhang Hao climbing up the ranks as a lowly omega concubine. Despite its problems (he finds it extremely unrealistic that no alpha emperor worth his salt wouldn’t immediately depose his empress and transfer the position to Zhang Hao instead, once faced with his omega radiance), it’s entertaining enough to read about harem politics and Zhang Hao's quest to prove himself to the emperor.

The sex scenes aren't quite accurate — not enough whining and whimpering for his tastes — and it's still immeasurably displeasing to read about Zhang Hao moaning another man's name, but he persists. All of that is worth it to read about Zhang Hao getting the living daylights fucked out of him.

If he knows the update will be particularly immersive, he'll fish out the most recent article of clothing he stole from Zhang Hao's apartment. He'll inhale its scent as he reads, imagining that Zhang Hao is underneath him with his legs wrapped around Hanbin's waist. Maybe he'll be sucking a bruise into Zhang Hao's neck or swirling his tongue around a nipple or biting at his collarbone. Maybe Zhang Hao will tell him, eyes wide and pleading, that they shouldn't be doing this. Maybe Hanbin will ignore him and continue kissing down his sternum until Zhang Hao is tugging at his hair in want rather than protest.

The writing isn’t very important, in the end. He has an endless bank of mental scenarios to choose from, carefully cultivated over the years. Whichever he chooses, Zhang Hao always ends up choking on his moans with his legs spread. And Hanbin always ends up wiping streaks of cum off his phone screen with a tissue. But he never regrets it. He thinks he could do this forever.

Eight years ago, when he was just starting his first year of university, is when his life changed for good.

He's liked K-pop ever since he was a kid. It's fun, it catches his attention, it's great to sing and dance along to. As he blossomed into teenagehood he made a habit of checking out the new releases once a month from any artists that caught his eye. There were groups he would vaguely keep up with, sure, but that was only on account of their music. If he had time he would watch variety show episodes and laugh at the jokes, maybe think a certain member was especially funny or attractive, but that was it. There was never anything personal on his part.

Then February rolled around. The end of it, to be precise. He had been busy with settling in and keeping up with his assignments, so this was the first opportunity he had to pull up YouTube and the list of new releases. It felt like fate — Zhang Hao was already on his homepage. Smiling at Hanbin from the thumbnail of their debut music video.

His hand paused over his touchpad. He stared, unblinking. His stomach swooped. His throat burned. And his heart resumed beating from where it had momentarily frozen in his chest. He clicked on the image.

It was love at first sight. He knew that from the start. Nothing else made any sense, would inspire the same reaction in him. He watched the music video three times, in a sort of daze, his face practically pressed to the screen. He didn't really notice the song at itself but he did notice this member's vocals, warm and sweet.

That was how his roommate, a boy called Youngseo, found him. They had been friends in high school. They weren’t particularly close but Hanbin hadn’t minded when he found out they would be rooming together. “Hey, Bin,” he greeted. Hanbin mumbled something back. The song was still playing through his headphones. “Are you going like that?”

Reluctantly, Hanbin paused the video. “Huh?”

“To the party tonight,” Youngseo clarified. He sighed good-naturedly. “Don't tell me you forgot. We should probably leave soon, actually.”

Oh. Hanbin remembered. Minah would likely be annoyed when he failed to show up, but this was much more important. He was desperate to know more about this idol; even if he went to the party, he wouldn't be able to think about anything else other than how pretty his smile was.

“I need to call my sister,” he lied. “I can't go anymore. Sorry.”

Youngseo frowned. “What, you can't just call her tomorrow?”

“No,” Hanbin snapped, then exhaled. Youngseo looked stunned. He had never seen Hanbin even close to pissed off before. “Sorry, but I can't. It's kinda private. Family troubles, you know.”

“Right, right.” He still looked vaguely spooked. “Well, I hope things sort themselves out in that case.” He cleared his throat and pointed at the door. “I might just head over there now…”

“Have fun,” Hanbin said tonelessly, then turned back to his laptop pointedly.

The YouTube comments told him his love was called Zhang Hao. “Zhang Hao,” he said out loud, testing the weight of it on his tongue. It felt right.

Over the next couple of hours, thanks to the limited content out there that he was able to speed-run, he learned in no particular order that Zhang Hao: was absolutely the most gorgeous person to ever walk the earth, had a voice which could move Hanbin to tears, could play the violin expertly, was a skilled dancer in various genres, was studying online to become a teacher through his university in Fujian, and had recently switched his major after deciding his true passion lied in music rather than the sciences.

Smart, pretty, cute, talented, inspirational — how did Hanbin get this lucky? No, how did the world get this lucky? It seemed impossible that someone as amazing as Zhang Hao wasn't being exalted as a god by millions of devoted followers. Hanbin resolved, right then and there, to make this happen.

Less importantly, Zhang Hao belonged to a group called BR1GHT under Yuehua. They had only debuted four days ago with Melting Pop, the song that Hanbin had been listening to. Well, not exactly. He closed his eyes so that he couldn't be distracted, and listened. Zhang Hao's voice was the light at the end of the tunnel, the shining beacon that guided him home in the darkness. He swore that the song was the best thing he had ever heard.

It's fascinating to look back on those memories now. In reality, Melting Pop was an unremarkable synthpop song, though Hanbin still has a soft spot for it because Zhang Hao had clearly been enjoying himself on stage during that era. A genuine smile had been on his face for all of his fancams for the song, which is why four of them have secured a spot in Hanbin's list of his top ten favourite Zhang Hao fancams. A tad overrepresented considering just how long Zhang Hao has been active for, sure, but Hanbin believes he should always be that happy.

It was a long wait for their next comeback — the results of their debut hadn't been great, purely because it failed to stand out in a sea of rookies and the company didn't push Zhang Hao as much as they should have. Hanbin had bought as many albums as he could (read: a lot), won the fansign lottery, streamed all their songs in a constant loop, devoured all of their content, spent nights lying awake in bed switching out voting passes. His potential hadn't been fully realised, then. He was, for all intents and purposes, a mere fan. A superfan, yes, but that was all. While he worshipped Zhang Hao, he regarded him as something untouchable. Something that he refused to taint; he would only dream of his smile rather than his body.

That was until the cute summer concept they had for their first comeback, six months later. Zhang Hao wore a crop top for the dance sections of the music video, the faint lines of his abs visible. Hanbin had realised approximately twenty different things about himself in the span of three seconds. For their comeback stage on Mcountdown, the stylists had decided to keep the crop top from the music video. There were four different points where Zhang Hao's arms would lift during the choreography and the hem of his crop top would rise with them, baring his navel. Hanbin hadn't felt even a little bit of guilt when he fucked his fist to that fancam that same day, which was perhaps the first sign that he was already past the point of no return.

The second sign was when he dropped out of university that same year. His studies were interfering with the true direction of his life. Dropping out had no impact on him — why would it? He already had more money than he knew what to do with, courtesy of his parents depositing a hefty amount into his bank account every month. It was far more sensible to spend all of that money on taking care of Zhang Hao and nurturing his career.

His first fansign remains a fond memory. Hanbin knew he was in love with Zhang Hao; he didn’t care that he was only watching him through a screen, that there was a distance between them which had yet to be crossed. That didn’t matter to him. He would happily caress Zhang Hao’s face on his phone screen for the rest of his days. Still, there was an undeniable appeal to the concept of seeing him without that obstruction.

At first he was worried. He wanted to make an impression on Zhang Hao and have him remember his face, his name. He didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t achieve that, if Zhang Hao glanced over him with surface-level interest and a practised smile. Zhang Hao didn’t owe him anything, of course; he would be content all the same. Going to the fansign would be worth it just to lay his eyes on him. But he wanted to stand out in Zhang Hao’s mind, even for a moment.

Of course, he knows by now that there’s never anything to worry about with Zhang Hao. He’s absolutely perfect, then and now.

Hanbin supposed that luck was on his side: he only bought three hundred copies of their debut album, not as many as he wanted to due to his monthly deposit from his parents running out. He feared that three hundred wouldn't be enough to give him a fighting chance for the lottery but he was, thankfully, wrong. The compilations of Zhang Hao he's watched don't attract a great deal of views, or at least not as much as they should. But the group was just starting out and the market was saturated, so he understood their middling popularity at the time.

And the lack of competition provided him with an advantage. He almost fell out of his chair when he received the congratulatory email. It took a minute for him to believe that he was going to see Zhang Hao in the flesh with only a table separating them. His grin stretched from ear to ear; he was elated.

Then he began to plan.

He was inexplicably nervous on the day of the fansign. He spent far too much time deliberating on what outfit to wear and had eventually settled on a more casual look. He hoped that Zhang Hao liked tattoos.

His letter burned a hole in his jacket pocket as he waited in the venue, leg jiggling as the fans around him chattered. He seemed to be the only male fan here, which was fine. Better, even; at least Zhang Hao would remember him.

To stop his mind from throwing itself into a panic, he silently repeated the spiel he prepared. He wanted to let Zhang Hao know how much he appreciated him as an idol, how he was so thankful that he'd given Yuehua's offer a chance, how he brightened up Hanbin's days and Hanbin had already had so much fun being a fan of his already. Zhang Hao would likely enjoy hearing that.

The door at the back of the hall opened. The managers, or the venue staff, ushered the members in one by one. Hanbin’s breath caught in his throat, mind blank as he watched Zhang Hao take his seat at the right end of the table. Seeing him in real life was nothing like seeing him through the lens of a camera. Hanbin couldn't take his eyes off him; he was utterly magnetic. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

It was only when he was called up that he remembered Zhang Hao wasn't a solo artist. To be perfectly honest, Hanbin hadn't spared a single thought for any of the other members. And he didn't intend on changing that any time soon. Disgruntled at being forced to interact with anyone not named Zhang Hao, he suppressed a sigh.

He was intelligent enough to maintain a veneer of politeness, obligingly answering the questions the other members threw at him, but otherwise he ignored them. His gaze kept straying to Zhang Hao at the far end, locked in conversations with other fans. He somehow seemed to get even more beautiful the longer Hanbin stared at him.

Eventually, after providing enough clipped replies, his own robotic conversations came to a close. Then there he was.

His legs shook as he lowered himself into the chair opposite him. Opposite Zhang Hao, who was so perfect that Hanbin couldn't even look at him for too long. Seeing him up close was very different to seeing him from a distance away. He feared that he would have to close his eyes for their entire conversation, otherwise he'd be reduced to a stammering and blushing mess.

Zhang Hao waved at him with a smile, taking Hanbin's opened album from Seungeon. “Hi! It's nice to meet you.” He quickly glanced down at the previous signatures. “Hanbin-ssi, right?”

“Right,” Hanbin confirmed, voice breaking on the word. He cleared his throat. “It's nice to meet you too, hyung.”

Zhang Hao finished signing his name and fixed him with an easy smile. Then Hanbin's worst fear was realised: his mind went completely blank. Everything he had meticulously written down and memorised vanished. He felt like butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach. His own embarrassment caught up to him quickly, a flush definitely streaking its way across his cheekbones.

“Ah, hyung,” he mumbled, hunching his shoulders. “I'm sorry but I—I forgot what I was going to say to you. I had this whole thing prepared but it—it's just gone…”

Zhang Hao's smile was kind, his eyes full of warmth. “That's okay! Why don't we try and remember together, hm? Or we can just talk about anything, I don't mind.”

Hanbin shifted in his seat, eyes darting all over the place. “Well, I…” He frowned to himself, fingers twisting nervously in his lap. “I just wanted to express my gratitude to hyung. For debuting. Hyung is such an amazing person.” Zhang Hao's smile softened. “And I'm so honoured that I have the chance to even know of him. He's so talented and he values his artistry so much that…” He trailed off. Zhang Hao nodded at him encouragingly. “That it's beautiful to witness. So thank you.”

Zhang Hao beamed, a sight so incredible that Hanbin almost fainted. He lightly applauded Hanbin. “Yay! You did remember.” His cheeks held the faintest pink tint to them. “Thank you very much for saying that, Hanbin-ssi, you're very kind. I'll work extra hard for you so I can be an idol you'll be proud of.”

“I'll always be proud of hyung,” he replied immediately, straightening up. “I just wanted to tell you how much I respect you, as both an idol and a person.” He dug inside his jacket and retrieved his letter. He added somewhat shyly, “And don't feel obligated to read this, but I wrote this letter for hyung too. In case he ever needs a reminder of anything I said.”

Zhang Hao laughed, throaty and genuine. “You're very cute,” he teased, accepting Hanbin's letter with a nod. Hanbin gripped his knees for stability. “I'll make sure to read it when I get home.”

“Thank you,” he said reverently, bowing his head. “You don't have to but—”

“Nonsense,” Zhang Hao said firmly. “I want to, so I will. And I'll give you something in return, okay?” His hand reached for the small stack of Post-It notes to the side.

The staff member motioned at the both of them to wrap up and move on. Zhang Hao ignored him, so Hanbin did too. He watched Zhang Hao write on the note with his marker, the tip of his tongue peeking out in concentration. He was so cute, Hanbin could really die.

“Here,” Zhang Hao pronounced with a flourish, passing his album back to him. The note was stuck on the cover: to Hanbin, never give up on your dreams! :). Hanbin read it thrice over.

“Thank you,” he repeated in wonder, clutching the album close to his chest. “I'll treasure it, hyung.”

Zhang Hao's smile broadened, a sparkle in his eye. “I'm sure you will.” The staff member cleared his throat impatiently, gesturing at Hanbin to move along. Zhang Hao effortlessly slipped back into his idol persona. “Well, it was really nice speaking with you, Hanbin-ssi. Thank you so much for coming!”

Hanbin stood up on jelly legs. The fan next to him was already lightly elbowing him out of the way, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she took his seat. “Bye, hyung,” he whispered.

He wanted to say more but he knew he couldn't. I love you, hyung, except that love doesn't even feel like the right word for it. You're everything to me. I want the entire world to recognise your brilliance. I worship the air you breathe. I'm going to spend the rest of my life ensuring you're happy. He couldn't even work up the courage to write any of those sentiments into his letter.

But he would have to ignore his failings in that regard. Zhang Hao's knowledge of Hanbin's true feelings wasn't integral to his fulfilment as a fan. He glanced down at the note and stroked his fingers over the characters, careful not to smudge them.

When he arrived home that day, simultaneously overjoyed with Zhang Hao's empathy and annoyed at himself for making an unfavourable impression, he headed straight to his bedroom. He stuck that note onto the wall, right next to his pillow. When he moved out of the dorm and into his own apartment, he transferred it to the same place there too: it's stayed there ever since then, jumping from apartment to apartment. It's the first and last thing he sees every day, right after he wakes up and before he goes to bed.

Sometimes he wonders if Zhang Hao would regret saying that to him, as that note was really the catalyst for what Hanbin would evolve into. It wouldn't take long for Hanbin's life to be entirely consumed by him. Most of the time, however, he simply doesn't care. He knows that he has Zhang Hao's best interests at heart; Zhang Hao must have been able to see that, too, when they first met. The note, more than anything, was permission. Zhang Hao wanted to encourage him, and encouraged he was.

There are misconceptions of what Hanbin actually is. He encounters them all the time — in his Twitter mentions, in the discussions other Rosins have, in forum posts, in news articles. Sasaeng is one word for it. Hanbin finds that to be a reductive label when applied to himself. He's different. He maintains boundaries, unlike those who push and prod and crowd as they hope for a reaction. Sure, he's more obsessive than a regular fan but that doesn't mean he's a bad person. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Everything he does is born from a desire to keep Zhang Hao happy and successful. If he hacks into Zhang Hao's Cloud, it's only so he can ensure that there's nothing incriminating that someone else could get their hands on and leak. If he keeps tabs on Zhang Hao's family and friends, it's only so he can be notified if there's any emergencies that will require Zhang Hao's immediate attention. If he has all three of Zhang Hao's phone numbers, it's only so he can trace any social media accounts back to him and dig through those too. If he remotely installed a tracker onto each phone, it's only so he can keep Zhang Hao out of harm's way.

Like he said, he maintains boundaries. He never calls him or texts him as he doesn't want to bother him or disrupt his hard-earned relaxation time. The last thing Hanbin would ever want to do is annoy him; if he has to keep a distance then so be it. All he does is—follow him, make sure he's safe. Really, it's not any different than what he would do if they were actually dating. None of this is.

The only difference would be how Zhang Hao perceives him. Right now he's a bug scuttling around in the shadows, a pest that Zhang Hao isn't even aware of. Something that can be safely ignored until it's caught in the light.

If they were together — his breath quickens just thinking about it — then Zhang Hao would search for him in the crowd, would reach out to him with an outstretched hand. Hanbin would cross that fan-idol boundary; it's not so much about him seeing Zhang Hao, because he already knows everything there is to know, but Zhang Hao seeing him. He would dissect Hanbin meticulously and lovingly, tilting his head with a thoughtful notch in his brow. It would be his decision whether he would accept what he sees or run screaming.

Has Zhang Hao connected the dots? Is B merely a faceless fan or does he know that this identity also extends to one of his biggest fansites? Does he even remember the Hanbin he spoke to all those years ago? These are questions that haunt him.

The Bubble notification is already waiting for him when he checks his phone. He frowns and rubs blearily at his eyes, sitting up against the pillows as he unlocks his phone. Zhang Hao woke up hours before Hanbin expected him to and it’s with a small stab of worry that he hurries to open the app, expecting the worst.

He couldn’t tell you what the worst entails, exactly, but this might come close to it. It's a picture taken by someone else — likely one of the other members, which Hanbin chooses to ignore lest he implode in murderous rage — in the practice room. Or on the practice room floor, to be more precise.

Zhang Hao is lying flat on his stomach, head twisted around to offer a smile and a peace sign to the camera behind him. His legs are spread and bent at the knee, like an invitation. The shorts he’s wearing have ridden up just so; Hanbin’s eyes trail down and he notices, in his horny daze, that his legs and thighs are shaven. Jesus. The compression shirt he's wearing emphasises the dip of his waist, the muscles in his arched back. His ass—Hanbin can’t even talk about how plump his ass looks in those shorts. Hanbin wants to sink his teeth into it, see if it’s really as fat as it looks. He exhales and worms a hand underneath the covers to cup himself, staring at the cheeky smile on Zhang Hao’s face.

The picture is reminiscent of that time he posted a gym selfie donning only a sleeveless tee and short shorts. He's honestly lost count of how many times he jerked off to that one picture; the ache in his wrist refused to subside for a week afterwards. There's even a permanent patch of dried-out drool on his keyboard from when he'd refreshed his timeline and been immediately smacked over the head with Zhang Hao's thighs. (Heh. He wishes.)

Though that wasn't even the worst one; that honour belongs to when he'd checked his phone while riding the subway after a day of shopping (for him and for Zhang Hao, naturally). He'd had to stumble off the train three stops before his intended stop so that he could get off in the dingy station bathroom, his other hand gripping his phone so hard he thought it would break. As comeback season was underway, Zhang Hao — along with two of the others — had been invited to some fitness YouTuber’s show. The show was meant to be both entertaining and educational, an opportunity for both idols and fans to learn about having the correct form while working out and the importance of spotting.

Hanbin didn’t care about any of that. He cared about the promotional clip that had just been posted on Twitter, with the four of them joking around until the YouTuber led a squatting routine. The camera didn’t zoom in here, something which Hanbin simultaneously thanked and mourned, but with enough loops of the clip it was easy for his mind to focus. Zhang Hao wore leggings that clung to his ass and thighs in the most mouthwatering of ways, and whenever he squatted Hanbin could see the muscles flex. Hanbin had actually cried when he came.

(The rest of the episode, when it was posted, was more cute than arousing. God knows that his baby couldn't lift weights to save his life.)

The practice room image burns the back of his eyelids when he blinks, already seared into his memory. He gives in and stumbles into the shower to jerk off in there, lip drawn between his teeth as he loses himself in a vision of Zhang Hao riding his face until he suffocates. He’d fall apart so beautifully, nails scratching down Hanbin’s torso as he chokes on his whimpers above him. Maybe he’d struggle, too, when the overstimulation edges over into something unpleasant. But Hanbin would only strengthen his grip on his thighs, keep him right where he wants him. Forced to take what Hanbin gives him.

Then, when he’s wet and loose enough, all Hanbin will have to do is lift him up off his face and slide inside. He’d be pliant by this point too, head lolling back as Hanbin dutifully fucks him through the aftershocks. But not quiet — no, Hanbin can tell he’d be loud, no matter how exhausted he is. Whines and moans and chants of Hanbin’s name. And Hanbin can read him like a book so he knows that Zhang Hao would want him to finish inside, even if he pretends otherwise.

“Hanbinie,” he’d slur, locking his ankles over the small of Hanbin’s back and looking up at him with his wide, imploring eyes, “don’t make hyung all dirty, okay?”

Hanbin shakes through his orgasm, painting the bathroom tiles white.

He's always been preternaturally good at hiding parts of himself that are less socially accepted, at presenting a superficially perfect image. No one is ever any the wiser.

It isn't like he doesn't know how to act normal. His intensity only ramped up after BR1GHT's first comeback, ballooned into something formidable, but no one would be able to guess that simply from talking to him. He was as affable as always. In that period of time where Hanbin was gladly submerged in the depths of his feelings for Zhang Hao but didn't yet know how to channel those feelings, he would sometimes look at himself in the mirror and see something dark and horrible lurking in his eyes. But he would blink and it would disappear, gone until another manufactured Zhang Hao scandal cropped up or one of the other members was getting a little too affectionate.

Their first comeback had been, somewhat surprisingly, a hit. Hanbin was glad that Zhang Hao was finally getting a fraction of the recognition he deserved, but he also resented that the number of fans he was competing with for fansign slots had increased. He would have to buy more albums next comeback, possibly even look into running a group order. Winning a place in only three fansigns out of the eight being held wasn't enough to satisfy him.

He arrived at the first of these with a certain degree of trepidation. He’d been operating under the assumption that Zhang Hao would forget him, simply because it had been months and Hanbin didn't expect him to remember every fan he sees, but he was proven wrong.

Zhang Hao lit up when he saw him, smile widening into something more genuine. “Oh, Hanbin-ssi!”

“Hi, hyung,” he said, a little bashful, as he sat down opposite him. “It's good to see you again. How have you been?”

Up close, Zhang Hao looked more tired than he remembered. The make-up artist had evidently tried to cover up his dark circles, but Hanbin never misses anything when it comes to Zhang Hao. His poor hyung, stressed out and stretched thin from the overbearing burdens he has to carry. This is why Hanbin does what he does. He has to funnel money into streaming and voting passes, into his C-bar funds, into the group's album sales so Zhang Hao can at least see a reward for all of his hard work. It's nowhere near what he deserves but Hanbin hoped it would be a taste of what will greet him in the future.

“Oh, this is just the busy season now,” Zhang Hao answered vaguely, flipping through the booklet pages. “How about you? How is university going?”

“Ah, I'm good, thank you. I really enjoyed the comeback.” That was one word for it. Hanbin had watched Zhang Hao's crop top fancam so many times that it refused to budge from his YouTube homepage. “As for university…well, I actually dropped out last week.”

Zhang Hao looked up from his signature, shocked. “Oh really?” His shock settled into something more palatable, something more befitting of an idol. Hanbin hated it. “That's not uncommon, there are many different paths in life.” He paused. “I hope it wasn't for reasons out of your control.”

Hanbin shook his head. “I just think I'd rather do something else with my life,” he said evasively. “There are other activities I enjoy more, and I don't want to waste my time in university when I have no passion for it. Life is too short for that.”

Zhang Hao was nodding along as if he was imparting some gem of wisdom. “That's very true. You know I changed my major for the same reason? I didn't want to trap myself when I knew I would be happier studying something else.”

“I know,” Hanbin said softly. “I've always admired that about hyung. He just takes what he wants. Very few people can say the same.”

“Well,” Zhang Hao said, smile curving into something unreadable, “why doesn't Hanbin-ssi take what he wants as well?” He passed Hanbin's album back to him and added, “Besides, you can always go back to university later if you change your mind, there's no rush! Sometimes we just need a little time to figure ourselves out.” He reached out, lightning-quick, to gently squeeze Hanbin's wrist over the fabric of his shirt. His hand was gone in a flash.

Hanbin froze. Shock slammed into him, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. His breath snagged in his throat. The world melted away; he could only stare down at the sleeve of his shirt, uncomprehending and wanting.

Eventually, his senses snapped back into being. The low, constant murmur of other fans behind him, the faint smell of Zhang Hao's watermelon perfume, the numbness in his fingertips. He chanced a look up. Perfect, perfect Zhang Hao who was watching him like there was something worthwhile in him too.

“Hyung…” he started, then trailed off. I love you. You're perfect. Thank you for everything.

Zhang Hao smiled like he heard all of this, satisfaction sharpening his eyes. The manager behind him shooed Hanbin along. Still recuperating from the touch (Zhang Hao had touched him), Hanbin stood up on shaky legs.

Zhang Hao waved at him with a bright smile. “Come back again!”

“I will,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. The spine of his album was probably bending from the grip he had on it. “I'm going to the fansigns on the twenty-seventh and twenty-ninth as well.”

“Perfect,” Zhang Hao replied, sounding genuinely pleased. “Then I look forward to seeing you there!”

Hanbin didn't wash his shirt for a month.

Perhaps what bothers him most about Zhang Hao's group activities, other than how his light has to be dimmed and he's not given enough lines as he should be and his styling is never right and he's one of the quieter members on-camera, is the fanservice. He doesn't mind the kind of fanservice directed at fans — in fact, he has an ungodly number of videos saved of Zhang Hao engaging in the type of fanservice that should make him cringe but only makes him grin to himself instead, like his aegyo or his boyfriend skits. No, it's the other type of fanservice he has a problem with.

Hanbin's not stupid. He knows that it's all for show, that every group partakes in over-the-top skinship and random love declarations. None of it means anything, especially not to someone like Zhang Hao who otherwise treats the members as if they're his younger brothers. He knows that Zhang Hao is only being professional. But he still has to keep his anger in check when Gyuvin pulls him into his lap, when Seungeon's lips brush against his ear and Zhang Hao giggles and squirms away. Hanbin's more homicidal tendencies always come to light, then. Because he can't help but think that that should be him with Zhang Hao sitting pretty in his lap or blowing him a kiss or presenting him with a rose. Hanbin is the only person that Zhang Hao should be acting like that with.

Maybe that makes him too jealous or possessive or controlling. Whatever. He doesn't care. There's no point in trying to reason with his instincts, which are screaming at him that Zhang Hao is his. Hanbin's stare practically burns a hole into his screen whenever these shenanigans start, though they're far less frequent than they used to be. Come to think of it, Zhang Hao doesn't really engage in this kind of fanservice at all these days.

Hanbin got embarrassingly drunk, once, when he was busy moping. After an American schedule, Zhang Hao's connecting flight had to be suddenly diverted for weather reasons, to Singapore instead of Thailand. Hanbin had been on the same plane, naturally, so he'd touched down in Singapore with Zhang Hao but had lost him there. Zhang Hao and his entourage had been squeezed onto the next flight to Korea, leaving Hanbin to take the next departing flight in a few hours.

By the time he arrived in Korea Zhang Hao was already home. Hanbin found himself more upset than he thought he would be. It was an unpleasant experience, being too far away from Zhang Hao for his liking. It was the first time in a long time that they hadn't been in the same country. He hated it, even if it was only for a few hours.

It only felt natural to drink his sorrows when he got home. The peach soju burned as he gulped it down but it was a welcome burn. The fire spread until the tips of his fingers tingled and his cheeks warmed. His mind, too, became a little less sharp, a little more prone to allowing emotion to rise to the forefront.

As Hanbin sat at his kitchen table he watched the new behind-the-scenes video they released, eyes greedily drinking in Zhang Hao. It’s always irrelevant if he's the focus or not — Hanbin will happily watch him play on his phone in the background. That was exactly what he did in this video. Hanbin tuned out Gyuvin’s rambling as he propped his phone up against the soju bottle, smiling dopily to himself as he admired Zhang Hao’s side profile.

Then the video cut. Hanbin perked up at seeing Zhang Hao in his full glory, facing the camera now instead of turning away from it.

“It’s been amazing seeing all the fans in Osaka,” he enthused as a question unrolled at the bottom of the screen. “I was surprised at how many people knew us here. Last night Ricky and I couldn’t sleep, so we went to the convenience store in the middle of the night and the clerk recognised us! How incredible is that?” Hanbin hoped, with a tightening in his chest, that Zhang Hao never lost that shine of wonder in his eyes. He would do anything to keep it. “Anyway, we’ve had a really amazing experience here. I’m just so glad that—”

As abruptly as Hanbin’s mood had lifted, it plummeted. He straightened in his seat as Seungeon plopped into Zhang Hao’s lap without a care in the world. Zhang Hao was still talking but, for once, Hanbin couldn’t pay attention to a word he was saying. He was too focused on the way Zhang Hao’s arm curled around Seungeon’s waist, how his chin rested on Seungeon’s shoulder.

A sour feeling curdled in the pit of his stomach. He felt sick. He wanted to die, frankly. There’s nothing he hates more than a reminder of what he can’t do.

After the video finished, he sat there for a couple of minutes and stared into space. Jealousy was a familiar emotion to him, naturally, but the alcohol exacerbated his emotions. It had a way of making him quicker to anger, quicker to speculate that the universe was cruelly flaunting his defeats.

A notification interrupted his brooding. Zhang Hao had sent a single dot on Bubble and Hanbin scrambled to type something out.

hyng i'm sorry nd i love you but i really hate it wheb you flirt with thev other members
makes me want tp be sick

To torture himself, he went back to the video and paused it on that frame. The longer he stared, the longer he felt like killing someone. Or himself. Another notification dropped down from the top of the screen.

Ah
I'll do better, don't worry! 😊
I missed you today~

Hanbin gasped, jogging the table as he sprung up out of his chair. Could this be…? It had to be. Zhang Hao had to be replying to him, there was no other explanation. He clutched his phone to his chest as tears welled up in his eyes. Of course Zhang Hao would reassure him, his perfect angel. He must have known that Hanbin would overthink the usual skinship that happens between the members, and instead of ignoring Hanbin’s concerns he made a point of appeasing him. He smiled as he dashed away his tears.

Two more messages came through.

Please take care of yourself~
Sleep well!!

He sniffled as he typed, struggling to see through the blur in his vision.

sweeet dreamf, hyung <33 get th rest you deserfe

After that incident, the other members were noticeably less touchy with Zhang Hao. It’s a trend that continues to this day.

All in all, Hanbin much prefers his solo schedules. Even with the reduction in skinship, he still finds the other members immeasurably annoying and unworthy of Zhang Hao’s friendship. But, he reasons with himself, even if he did like the other members then Zhang Hao’s solo activities would still be preferable. Like this, Zhang Hao gets the music and camera all to himself. Like this, Hanbin gets the content that he’s dreamed of for so many years. Like this, Zhang Hao is alone and all the more perfect for it.

Silly hyung, he always thinks fondly as he keys in the passcode to Zhang Hao's apartment and has it unlock once more. He wishes Zhang Hao would change his combination as nothing is too big of a challenge for Hanbin, he would always be able to work it out, but if he keeps his current passcode there are others less worthy who can deduce it with enough trial and error. Hanbin keeps tabs — he knows he's the only one that made it this far (there would be a lot of trouble if he found out someone was threatening Zhang Hao's safety like this) and he knows that anyone else would immediately make their entrance too obvious, but he still worries.

That's always his first order of business, actually. He can't relax until he's gone over the apartment with a fine-toothed comb and checked for any stray hairs not belonging to Zhang Hao's scalp, for anything that's been misplaced or stolen, for any slight rearrangements of his furniture or scuffs that weren't there before. Zhang Hao is a neat, meticulous person so Hanbin knows that anything out of the ordinary could signal to a possible intruder. He's yet to hear any warning bells ringing but he takes Zhang Hao's safety very seriously.

He toes off his shoes so that he doesn't dirty the carpets before embarking on his mission. He's grateful that Zhang Hao has his own apartment now as visiting the dorm was too much of a risk. Too many members and managers milling about; even with a group schedule, Hanbin couldn't be sure if one of them would suddenly return home. He probably could have achieved it without a hitch, at least once, but he decided against it in the end. He can't be much help to Zhang Hao from prison.

God, did he like to fantasise about it though. Even when they moved into a new dorm a few years after their debut, Zhang Hao still had to share a room with Yunseo. Single beds on each side of the room, a wardrobe between them, a visible divergence in how the two occupants decorated their side of the room. Hanbin knows all this because Zhang Hao had filmed a little clip showing himself packing for an upcoming trip, in which he'd given the camera a quick tour of the small room with a cheeky grin. And here is my side, he'd announced with a little giggle, and Hanbin had thought so cute while spamming the screenshot function.

He thought about it a lot, imprinting himself in that tiny living space. Curling his fingers into Zhang Hao's clothing so creases would form, gliding his fingers over the surface of the lone desk, inhaling the heady scent ingrained into his pillow. Stuffing it underneath his hips and rocking against it with his tongue pressed to Zhang Hao's sheets, in some of his baser fantasies.

But none of that matters now. He has what he wants.

After he's satisfied with his check of the apartment, he's free to enjoy himself a little more. Hanbin adores having an insight into how Zhang Hao lives and what he values most. He has a soft spot for the mantelpiece, with its eclectic mix of souvenirs from abroad and pictures of Zhang Hao and his loved ones. Him as a toddler sitting on his grandmother's knee, as an older child with his baby cousins playing on the carpet next to him, as a lanky teenager with his mother in front of a monument on a cloudy day, as a university student with his friends around a restaurant table, as a trainee with his arm around Chen Kuanjui while they grin at the camera, as an idol with his members in a candid, as a smiling graduate with a proud mother next to him. Proof of the life he's lived.

The first time Hanbin saw these pictures, he'd cried. He thought he might die from all the love he felt at that moment, how much he was prepared to give Zhang Hao the world and make him as happy as he was in these photos. Give him more achievements to boast of. There was nothing Hanbin wouldn't do to make that happen.

Now, as he always does, he leans in to peck the Zhang Hao with his graduate cap. He's careful not to smudge the glass of the photo frame.

He moves onto the kitchen — mainly takeout leftovers in the fridge, though Hanbin does spot some fresh produce and chicken, and the cupboards seem well-stocked — before heading to the bedroom. He's already feeling keyed up. Leave the best for last, as they say.

Being able to step foot in Zhang Hao's inner sanctum feels like the culmination of all his efforts over the years. Not that Hanbin has ever thought he deserved a reward for being so devoted to Zhang Hao, that should just be the norm, but there's something about being in his bedroom which makes him feel like this is what his entire life has been leading up to. To see where he lays his head down to sleep every night, where he decides his outfit for the day, where he sings to himself as loudly and freely as he wishes.

Hanbin always takes a few moments to get reacquainted. His fingers glide over the dresser, the bedspread, the nightstand. His socked toes curl into the carpet. He bends down and gives a reverent kiss to the wood of the violin, this instrument that makes Zhang Hao glow from within whenever he plays. Zhang Hao is always heart-stoppingly beautiful, but whenever he plays the violin Hanbin feels himself fall in love all over again. He mourns that the only time he can see Zhang Hao play is the occasional awards show performance; if Hanbin had it his way, then Zhang Hao would be able to showcase each one of his talents in equal measure.

He throws open the doors of the wardrobe and allows himself to admire the corner dedicated to Hanbin's gifts. Yuehua had stopped allowing fangifts to be sent to the company building years ago, so Hanbin had started directing them to the dorm instead with a small Ditto sticker on each package so Zhang Hao would know it was safe. It always made his day when he received the notification that Zhang Hao had signed for whatever he sent. After Zhang Hao moved out, Hanbin simply changed the shipping address to his new apartment instead. He didn't think Zhang Hao would mind. And he didn't; Zhang Hao signs for all of his gifts just the same. Visiting his apartment has made Hanbin realise that he's blessed in this regard — his are the only gifts he sees tucked away.

It's not his fault that no one else has been ingenious enough to work out Zhang Hao's new address or has been deemed trustworthy enough to have their packages accepted at the door. It's not like he cares anyway. He's so happy that Zhang Hao views him, and only him, as worthy.

It's not just the gifts either. Zhang Hao keeps his letters, the creases in all of them cleanly smoothed out and the pages piled into the middle drawer of his nightstand. Hanbin can't come across as too overbearing in his letters — he would never want to scare Zhang Hao off — so he keeps them short and simple, only a couple of pages where he alternates between praising Zhang Hao for his hard work and worrying about how he's coping with the onslaught of schedules. He tries to keep the true depth of his feelings hidden, but it still makes him giddy to think about Zhang Hao reading his words propped up in bed before turning in for the night.

He's imbued in Zhang Hao's bedroom. There's literally proof of his presence here, letters with his ink on them and jackets that he ran his hands over. In Zhang Hao's sanctuary, where he relaxes and sleeps and breathes. He's ingrained into the very energy of the room. It’s no wonder that he loves to visit here whenever he can.

His presence manifests in other ways too. Hanbin's greedy when he comes to Zhang Hao, terribly so. He can't keep a lid on it here, not when there's such a powerful siren call that makes his fingers itch. With every visit he makes, another shirt or pair of shorts or underwear goes missing. He pilfers another T-shirt now, one hidden at the bottom of Zhang Hao's middle drawer. Black with a faded animal print on the front. The last time Zhang Hao wore this was years ago; surely he won't realise when it goes missing. He has far too many clothes to keep track of. Hanbin has amassed an entire collection of Zhang Hao's clothes, carefully folded and placed centre-stage in his shrine right next to his photocard binder. And Zhang Hao has no idea.

It would be worrying if Hanbin were anyone else. He thinks about it maybe a little too much: what if someone out there were as careful as him, if they knew exactly how to cover their tracks? If they were exceedingly cautious, if they understood how to evade Hanbin's protective scrutiny? Hanbin would be none the wiser. And neither would Zhang Hao, who would have no clue that he needs to watch his back.

Hanbin comforts himself with the knowledge that that’s what he's for. Zhang Hao is free to live his life unfettered by worry so long as Hanbin exists. And, because Hanbin exists for him, they'll never be apart, ever. He'll make sure of it. Zhang Hao's safety is always paramount and Hanbin would rather die than trust anyone else to do his job for him. No one will be able to harm Zhang Hao when Hanbin is in the picture.

He thumbs the corner of the pillowcase thoughtfully, before chancing a look over his shoulder and abandoning his inhibitions. He needs this. He regards this as his own form of payment; he would never ask or pressure Zhang Hao for anything, but despite appearances to the contrary he doesn't work for free. The clothes are one thing. This is another.

It's a familiar routine now. He stretches out on the bed and shoves his face into the pillow and inhales a lungful of Zhang Hao's scent, that mix of watermelon and coconut. It's a scent that makes him snap to attention, makes him want to follow it like a dog with its tongue lolling out. That's all he is, really: a dog at Zhang Hao's every beck and call, wired to please its owner. He's happy with that.

His hips tentatively rock against the sheets as he inhales again, mind spinning as he wonders what it would be like if Zhang Hao were in the bed with him. Or—he doesn't even need that. Just his awareness, the knowledge that Hanbin is currently getting off in their bed while he putters around in the kitchen. Hanbin wouldn't mind being disregarded in this way, so long as he can have Zhang Hao in other ways.

It's not difficult to imagine living here. He's halfway to moving in already, what with the frequency of his visits. Not to mention his gifts of clothing and letters, both neatly stored in Zhang Hao's bedroom. The room wouldn't change much if he did move in — he wouldn't want to impose and he's the opposite of materialistic when it comes to himself, much preferring to spend his money on Zhang Hao instead, so only a small rearrangement would be required.

The main difference would be himself. Hanbin wouldn't need to hide from him as he is now. The two of them would be cooped up in this apartment together. Being able to draw Zhang Hao into his arms whenever he wanted. Kissing the soft swell of his cheek. Cuddling with Zhang Hao curled up in his lap on the couch, copping a feel while they're cooking, fucking into Zhang Hao as he's still half-asleep in their bed. Domestic bliss.

It probably says a lot about Hanbin that this is what gets him to come, shuddering as he dirties the inside of his underwear.

The last time he spoke to Zhang Hao face to face had been four years ago.

Yuehua, for all their faults, were keen to crack down on the more—overzealous fans. There had been a very public scandal about their decision, a rarity in the idol world. They were happy to mediaplay about their bravery in being the first K-pop company to permanently bar quote-unquote sasaengs from fansigns. To avoid giving them more exposure to the idol, they said, and to avoid rewarding the fan for their predatory behaviour. Hm.

At this time, Hanbin hadn't yet evolved into what he is now. But he wanted to. He wanted to follow Zhang Hao everywhere, even into the places he wasn't allowed to be. And he was prepared to risk his fansign privileges for it. That was just the price he would have to pay in order to protect Zhang Hao like he so deserved. So long as he could see him elsewhere, he could live with losing the opportunity to speak to Zhang Hao in-person.

And wouldn't it be better this way, anyway, to devote himself from a distance? Of course he would miss speaking to him but there was something to be said about the duty he would carry, his choice to be a willing observer in Zhang Hao's life rather than participant. Perhaps his love would even intensify into a supernova, burning everything in its wake — isn’t that what people say, distance makes the heart grow stronger? He looked forward to testing that hypothesis.

His final fansign occurred in the middle of a chilly November, notable only for the promise of snow that lurked in the atmosphere. He always thought Zhang Hao looked extra beautiful in the winter. Something to do with his cold beauty charm, probably.

Like always, Zhang Hao's face brightened when he caught sight of Hanbin. “Hanbin-ssi!”

“Hi, hyung,” he murmured, taking his seat opposite Zhang Hao. Zhang Hao must have read something in his face because his own face flickered, but Hanbin pushed through with his greetings. “How are you doing? It's great to see you again. I love the comeback!”

Zhang Hao had received both ample lines and screen time in the music video, as well as the most lines on the album. It was nowhere near enough, certainly, but Hanbin took this as a positive sign that the company was finally realising Zhang Hao's purchasing power. He could even dare to hope for a proper solo album, instead of settling for the meagre OSTs thrown to him. The OSTs are always Hanbin’s most-listened to songs of the year, of course, but he's desperate for something that will entirely belong to Zhang Hao.

“Ah, I'm glad to hear it!” Zhang Hao's eyes sparkled as he looked at him, before quickly flipping open Hanbin's album. “I'll write you a special thank you, I think. For always supporting us. It's been four years now, hasn't it?”

“For always supporting you,” Hanbin lightly corrected, leaning forward eagerly when something flashed in Zhang Hao's eyes. “And yes, four years. I still have that Post-It from our first meeting stuck on my wall.”

Zhang Hao smiled softly as he scrawled his message inside the album. "Never give up on your dreams, wasn't it? I remember.” He capped the pen and fixed Hanbin with a piercing stare, one that made Hanbin's breath catch in his throat. “What dreams do you have now, Hanbin-ssi?”

“Many,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “A lot. The main one is to see hyung happy.”

Zhang Hao seemed very pleased with this answer, a small hmph resounding in the air between them. “Well, that's what you're seeing now. I am happy.” He held his hands out expectantly, palm-up.

Hanbin took them immediately. He had been waiting for this; it was something they started doing last era. He was absolutely thrilled whenever Zhang Hao initiated this contact between them. From the other fansign videos he saw on Twitter and Weibo, he didn't hold every fan's hands.

That was why divulging this information would hurt so much. His last ever time holding Zhang Hao's hands…he made sure to savour the sensation of their palms joined together, the contrast of their temperatures.

He took a deep breath. “I have something to tell you, hyung.”

Zhang Hao searched his face, a line beginning to form in his forehead. “Oh? Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Another breath. “I just wanted to say that my circumstances have changed, so I might not be able to come to your fansigns anymore.” Zhang Hao's face dropped, and Hanbin's stomach with it. Nausea rolled in his stomach at seeing Zhang Hao direct such a look of disappointment at him. “But I'll still be your fan. Always. I just…it's not possible for me to come here anymore.”

“Oh,” Zhang Hao said, voice hollow. It felt like he was withdrawing from Hanbin already, the light in his eyes disappearing. If Hanbin had worse self-control he would leap over the table separating them and cradle Zhang Hao's face in his hands, promise him that Hanbin would rather die than abandon him. “Can I ask why?” His smile was forced. “Have you found another idol?”

“No, never,” he said before Zhang Hao had even finished. “Hyung is the only one for me. I'll always support him, no matter what. Just…in a different way.”

“Okay,” Zhang Hao accepted after a beat, though there was still a note of sadness in his voice. He was pouting, too; Hanbin didn't think he even realised. Hanbin wished so badly that he could just tell him his plans but that would ruin everything. Zhang Hao withdrew his hands. Hanbin's fingers closed around nothing. “I'll miss you, Hanbin-ssi. I've always enjoyed talking with you.”

“Me too, hyung,” Hanbin said, a little desperately. “Maybe we can meet again in the future.”

The staff member standing behind Zhang Hao was getting a little impatient. Hanbin ignored her so he could take a moment to dedicate this Zhang Hao to memory, with his blond hair and wide eyes and pink lips. This might be the last time he saw Zhang Hao from such a close distance.

“I hope so,” Zhang Hao said, also ignoring the girl sitting next to Hanbin waiting for them to finish. His hand struck out to grab Hanbin's wrist when he stood, eyes imploring. “You come and find me when you can, okay? I'll remember you, I promise.”

“I will,” Hanbin whispered, before he was led down from the platform. He swore he felt eyes on his back as he stepped down, but when he turned around Zhang Hao was signing the fan's album with his head lowered.

It was a couple of weeks after that fansign that Hanbin made his debut.

He had waited outside the music show building for hours. He had tried to be inconspicuous, masked-up and hood pulled over his head and hovering in the back, but there was very little he could do when it came to hiding his height or gender. He was strangely nervous — he knew that nothing would happen, that Zhang Hao probably wouldn't recognise or remember him, that more fans than he wanted made the transition from casual fan to fansite. He wanted to be different in Zhang Hao's eyes.

It was late by the time the members exited the building; the last vestiges of sunlight painted the world in a saturated yellow. Zhang Hao had instinctively dismissed the gaggle of fans, eyes glancing over them, before he noticed Hanbin. He missed a step in shock and Hanbin jerked forward, as if to run to the steps and save Zhang Hao from his clumsiness. Gyuvin, however, got there first and reached out to steady him. Zhang Hao didn't notice; his eyes were glued to Hanbin. Hanbin thought that he might be shaking. Then Zhang Hao smiled. Hanbin raised his camera.

323_angel @323_angel
240814 #ZHANGHAO #장하오 #章昊 #ジャンハオ
#BR1GHT #브라이트

[4 images attached]

Quotes
@meltinghaoz: yay a new hao fansite?? and the picture quality is so good thank you 🙏
@T1krXy: ah why does he look so happy ㅋㅋㅋ our excited jjanggurri
@rikneultruther: his smile is so cute~
@feelthepoppop: happy that he got off work lol

He hasn't even considered trying to stop because he knows it would be fruitless. No one else catches his interest, no one else makes him stop in his tracks and daydream about a life together. He thinks he used to have a crush on a boy in his class, back when he was seventeen or so, but these memories bring no swell of emotion. He only feels a cool blankness, as he does whenever he thinks about someone other than Zhang Hao. The mere fact of Zhang Hao’s existence in the universe means no one else measures up. Even if circumstances were different, he's sure they would have found each other at some point. And that would be it: Hanbin would be a goner immediately, would have abandoned his life path without a second thought.

He often fantasises about an alternate reality where he debuted with Zhang Hao. The two of them in a group, living and working and eating and sleeping together. Being the recipient of his smiles and affectionate arm-squeezes and pouts. Watching his effortless allure on stage and in the recording booth and the practice room, Zhang Hao leaning into his side and giggling whenever Hanbin praises him for a job well done. They would've had to pry Hanbin off him with a crowbar.

In this universe he's sure that Zhang Hao would fall for him too. He knows exactly the kind of love Zhang Hao wants: unending devotion. No one in this world can give him that better than Hanbin can, that's a fact. He's reminded of a live Zhang Hao had done last year in August, claiming that he couldn't sleep because of the summer heat. Hanbin had been thankful that he'd gotten a little too sucked into a fanfiction he was reading, otherwise he would have gone to sleep and missed the notification.

It was a standard Zhang Hao live, the usual discussion of music and dramas and anecdotes. Someone in the comments had asked if Zhang Hao was watching a new popular drama, one that Hanbin was only peripherally aware of in case Zhang Hao was a fan.

“No,” Zhang Hao had answered, slightly scornful. “I can't watch dramas about cheating. I really hate cheaters, even in fiction. I don't understand how you can do that to the person that should be most important to you.”

Hanbin leapt into action, immediately beginning to type out a comment which stated that anyone who cheated on Zhang Hao would be absolutely out of their mind. Bubble was refusing to send it due to profanity. As he was editing it someone beat him to the punch.

Zhang Hao read it out: "your lover should cherish you! Yes, exactly!” Hanbin, disgruntled, backspaced his comment. "Cherish is a good word for it. We shouldn't settle for less than we deserve. I think there's someone out there for everyone, someone who will truly make you happy.” He paused and muttered, “Ah, maybe that's just me being a romantic, I don't know…”

The conversation moved on, but not before Zhang Hao smiled at Hanbin's hyung is right. comment.

He's so loyal that he only fucks boys that bear some sort of resemblance to Zhang Hao, panting hyung hyung hyung into smooth necks and kicking them out immediately afterwards. Although recently he's waned off this practice too; he's older, now, and there are only so many men in Seoul who he can delude himself into thinking are Zhang Hao on a night out. Even watching porn can't get him off.

Look at me, he wants to say to him whenever their paths cross, Zhang Hao staring into the lens of his camera. Look at how much I want you. Look at what I could give you.

Hyung! You've been working so hard recently so I know you haven't had time to go shopping. I saw these clothes and thought of you, especially as the weather is getting colder. Hyung needs to remember to take care of himself and stay warm~

I’ll always look after hyung anyway but being sick is no fun. I don’t ever want hyung to feel bad so it’s important that he layers up!

Love,
-B

Hanbin folds the letter into his envelope and includes it in the gift box, humming to himself.

The lady at the post office, well used to his antics by this point, only smiles when Hanbin carefully deposits the box on the counter.

He sends him a custom-made ring too, though he's not sure if he expects Zhang Hao to actually wear it. It gives him enough satisfaction to know that Zhang Hao will at least place it in his ring tray and unite it with all of the other jewellery Hanbin has gifted to him over the years.

But Zhang Hao often has a way of surprising him.

Hanbin chooses to meet him outside of the Music Bank building rather than his apartment, purely because he wants the familiar weight of his camera in his hands. He wants to post these pictures online and have everyone look at Zhang Hao in the clothing Hanbin has bought for him while failing to comprehend what they're truly seeing. It never fails to give him a buzz.

Hanbin waits with the small crowd of fansites outside, ignoring their mutterings and their slight shoves. It doesn't bother him; he's easily the tallest one here, so he'll always have a good shot. And they know by now that he shouldn't be bothered.

The Hyundai, so known to him by now, pulls up outside. Hanbin fumbles with his camera as the door opens, one denim leg appearing before the rest of Zhang Hao slides out of the car. Hanbin's heart soars as he snaps picture after picture — Zhang Hao is wearing everything Hanbin sent him, blue puffer coat and pink beanie and cashmere scarf and fluffy sweater. He looks adorable. And warm, Hanbin crows to himself. His worry abates.

His outfit, unbelievably, includes the ring. Hanbin smiles giddily to himself as he zooms in, the B♡H engraving on the inside of the ring surely skin-warm. Zhang Hao makes a show of it too, lifting his hand to itch his nose and flashing his ring at the cameras. Hanbin is on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

dee @butterflyhaoz
guys be vigilant with interacting with those on the blacklisted fansites list, i'm seeing a lot of engagements with @/323_angel specifically when they’re a known sasaeng! pls block them to avoid encouraging them, sharing their pics only endangers hao

…kai 🌟 @babyhaohao: if they're a sasaeng then why does hao always give them the best pictures lol
……🫠 @gyuvinnieeee: because he's an idol dumbass it's not like he can tell them to leave him alone
……lia | new fic in pinned @haomosexual: “give” the best pictures? he's not giving anything, he has no choice but to smile at his group of fansites whenever he sees them
……..kai 🌟 @babyhaohao: yeah and 323_angel consistently takes the best pics of him and they're the only fansite hao actually does fanservice for lmao, is there even any proof they're a sasaeng
……..lia | new fic in pinned @haomosexual: that freak literally followed him to fujian when he was going to see his family for a few days,,, that's all the proof we need tbh
……….kai 🌟 @babyhaohao: if i'm thinking of the same airport pics then hao was literally smiling and waving to them there 😂 i'm gonna continue sharing their pics soz
………..lia | new fic in pinned @haomosexual: okay so give him a free pass to be as creepy towards hao as he wants, sure why not
…………kai 🌟 @babyhaohao: wait 323_angel is a guy??
…………250317 hao @redpandagenda: yh lol if you look at vids from other fans you can see a guy in a hoodie always following hao closely, thats him. he looks handsome too ngl
……………kai 🌟 @babyhaohao: damn i had no idea…that's probably why hao likes him so much 🤭 iykyk
………………hao's future gf @marrymehao: WTF are you insinuating 😡😡😡 stop assuming his sexuality you weirdo

You have reported @marrymehao. Thanks for making Twitter a safer place for everyone.

You have blocked @marrymehao.

In the eight years he’s been subscribed to Zhang Hao’s Bubble, Hanbin has never once missed a live from him.

The streak continues today: he’s in the supermarket when the notification pings in his headphones, interrupting Zhang Hao’s soft croons. He's singing of someone he has no choice but to love from a distance, voice carrying a beautiful trace of yearning. It’s Hanbin’s favourite song of his.

He fumbles with his phone and waits while he queues to pay. His face breaks out into a fond smile when Zhang Hao runs through the usual greetings.

“Let's just give it a couple of minutes so more people can join,” he announces. “How is everyone? What are you up to?”

Hanbin types out his answer. His smile likely shifts into something manic when Zhang Hao reads it out.

“Ah, you're shopping?” he says. “Make sure to buy a lot of tasty food! It's good to stock up at this time of year.” He continues on: “Hey, you’re at school?! Get off your phone and go study. Wow, so many of you are at work right now…”

Hanbin wonders what the plan for today’s live is. More often than not, Zhang Hao will simply talk and sing along while he plays music in the background. He appreciates these lives for what they are: a chance for Zhang Hao to have fun but also a chance for him to be unfiltered. Zhang Hao is still careful to toe the line, just barely abiding by what’s acceptable for him to say about the company. There’s been more than a few times where a throwaway comment made by Zhang Hao during a live will prompt Hanbin to start up one of his mass-emailing campaigns again.

Hanbin almost feels bad that he finds Zhang Hao the cutest when he’s complaining about something. Zhang Hao will always be his sulky baby; it’s like he’s asking Hanbin to take screenshots of his pout.

Regardless, any Zhang Hao live is very much appreciated by Hanbin. Zhang Hao is the opposite of boring — he’s lively and quick-witted and funny, in an acerbic sort of way. Hanbin always receives pleasure just from watching him, though sometimes his mind does stray to what else Zhang Hao could do in a livestream. He thinks all of his ideas would likely get him permanently banned from Bubble.

He’s drawn from his daydream as the trademark sounds of Zhang Hao whining resonate in his headphones. “You don't pay attention to me,” he's complaining in response to something in the chat. “I posted about my violin practice last week!” He sighs. “Ah, of course you forgot…”

One-handed, Hanbin types out I didn't forget 😇 as he pays with his card. Didn't hyung say two months ago that he was planning to upload a dance cover of ‘Attraction’ too?

“Ah, that’s right,” Zhang Hao exclaims after reading his comment out. Hanbin preens and ignores the odd look the cashier shoots him. “Hey, how'd you remember that? I'm impressed.”

I remember everything hyung says.

“I see,” Zhang Hao murmurs, and the conversation moves on to Zhang Hao’s recent food cravings.

(Jjampong, which Hanbin already knew because he mentioned it in his October interview with Elle Japan. Afterwards, Hanbin had jjampong delivered to Zhang Hao’s apartment on a night that he knew he would be home.)

Hanbin, regrettably, has to slide his phone back into his pocket when the time arrives for him to carry his bags to the car.

As he begins the drive back home, Zhang Hao replies to some of the Chinese comments. Hanbin mouths the words to himself as he drives, pleased to discover that he understands the vast majority of what's being said. He doesn't have a lot of free time but learning Chinese for Zhang Hao is a priority, has been a priority, and he can be studious when he wants to be. His progress is somewhat hampered by the fact that he refuses to speak Chinese with anyone other than Zhang Hao, so he has no idea if his speaking skills are up to par or not but for the moment he seems to be managing fine.

It’s worth it to learn the language even if he never ends up achieving his goal. He would hate to miss out on how Zhang Hao is different with his Chinese fans, how his drawl becomes more affected and he’s more likely to joke around. Hanbin has considered cosplaying as a Chinese fan before, just so he could have Zhang Hao poke fun at him and Hanbin would have to try not to get hard. He’s brattier like this too; it’s usually from the Chinese-speaking portions of his lives that Hanbin fetches the clips of his whining and edits them into compilations for his own pleasure.

Zhang Hao keeps him company for the entire car ride home and for how long it takes for him to put away his groceries, only ending his live when Hanbin closes the fridge door. A small act of fate, just like everything else in their relationship.

“Thanks for joining me, everyone,” he signs off with. “I hope the live was fun for you too! And I hope to see you all soon.”

“You will,” Hanbin says aloud to his empty apartment. His headphones beep.

Part of what he does involves keeping up with the idol industry in general. It's not something he enjoys but it is necessary, especially as Zhang Hao can be quite the social butterfly when he wants to be. Hanbin keeps tabs on all of his friendships with other idols: noting down their last interactions, if they mention each other, wear any matching clothes. That sort of thing. Occasionally, when he's especially worried, he'll pull some strings and glean information from those more in the know about certain idols.

A media outlet had once quote-unquote jokingly reported on a dating rumour between Zhang Hao and TXT's Soobin, citing their new friendship and selfies with plushies of the other’s representative animal. Which meant nothing. Obviously.

Hanbin had seen red (and also thrown his phone against the wall, but that's neither here nor there) before a contact of his informed him that Soobin had been seeing another man for two years now. Not that that made Hanbin trust him, because Zhang Hao can be very tempting, but at least he could be assured that an element of great reluctance would be involved on both sides.

The new information calmed him, to the point he would only scoff at the posts on Twitter that he saw. Although sometimes there was speculation that was so wrong that he had no choice but to engage in a lengthy back-and-forth with the user. He couldn't believe some of the harmful gossip he was reading about Zhang Hao. After his sixth burner account was suspended for death threats, he moved onto the media outlet instead. It's possible he may have spammed their email inbox ordering them to take the article down, but that's just being a good citizen. There's an epidemic of fake news, after all.

Anyway, it's not dating rumours that are the object of his focus today. It's the more insidious side of the industry, the dark underbelly, which leaves him fearful for Zhang Hao's safety. Not only the constant, low-grade worry which forever occupies his mind, but a genuine panic.

The notification comes in while he's waiting for Zhang Hao outside of the Yuehua building. He's without his camera today because Zhang Hao is practising rather than on an official schedule. On days like this, Hanbin will inconspicuously loiter outside the building and wait however long it takes for Zhang Hao to finish. Zhang Hao's apartment is close enough to the company that there are times he opts to walk the streets instead, all by himself. Hanbin can't bear to think about him wandering alone at night which is why he makes sure to follow him from a distance, always keeping him in his eyesight.

He usually whiles the time away by organising voting and streaming campaigns for Zhang Hao through Twitter, or catching up on Postype if Zhang Hao has been especially inactive. He’s just donated two million won to Zhang Hao’s C-bar through his Chinese contact when the words popping up at the top of the screen catch his attention.

He frowns down at his phone as he reads the headline. He reads it again.

Then he worries his lip between his teeth and thinks.

Naturally, Hanbin knows better than anyone that being an idol isn't all glitz and glamour. It's common for the ordinary person to take celebrity life at face value, to incorrectly assume that the money and the fame are all there is to it. It's often glossed over that being an idol involves an element of danger.

The recent idol news has swept the nation: a rookie girl group's dorm was broken into by a man in his twenties claiming to be a fan. In a stroke of luck, their manager had been with them and had calmed down the man until the police showed up.

While Hanbin recognises how frightening that must have been for the group, the incident has largely led his omnipresent worry over a different idol to tailspin. Luckily, Zhang Hao has been perfectly safe his entire career. Hanbin would no doubt be trapped in a prison cell otherwise.

He credits at least a little of that safety to himself. There have been times he's pushed away other fans for crowding Zhang Hao in airports, or posted the personal details of stalkers who refused to stop following Zhang Hao even after Hanbin threatened them. If Yuehua's security guards won't do their job then Hanbin is happy to take on that role.

But the problem lies in the fact that Hanbin isn't always with Zhang Hao. What if a deranged fan of Zhang Hao's broke into his apartment? If they confessed their love to him and exploded when he rejected them?

Or it might not be a fan — an anti determined to harm him, perhaps, or even a garden variety thief. Although Zhang Hao isn't exactly physically weak, Hanbin doubts he would have any idea what to do in such a situation. Who knows what could happen to him if overpowered; he can't stomach thinking about Zhang Hao at any sort of risk.

So: the solution, which he's currently enacting now. Hidden cameras are an idea he's had before but never followed through on for various reasons — his primary concern was that even though Zhang Hao would be unaware, Hanbin nevertheless wanted him to be himself. Home is the one place where he doesn't have to be the embodiment of the picture-perfect idol and Hanbin didn't want to disrupt that.

He reasons with himself now as he sets the camera up in the corner of Zhang Hao's living room, disguising it behind the fronds of a potted plant. Protecting Zhang Hao always takes precedence over anything else and this fits his needs perfectly.

Checking the feeds on his phone allows him to position the camera until he has an unobstructed view. It's important that he captures everything, otherwise all of this will be for moot. It would be entirely possible for someone to sneak in through the window.

He works quickly, adding another in the hallway. The bathroom doesn't have a window so Hanbin leaves it bare, albeit with a certain magnitude of regret. Maybe he could—no. He's not going to intrude on Zhang Hao like that.

The bedroom is last. The cameras are built to be discreet enough that the human eye would naturally glance over them but Hanbin doesn't want to take his chances. Zhang Hao is more observant than most people. Everything in this room has to appear exactly the same as it did when he walked in.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he steps back. This mission had been worryingly easy. Anyone else could have placed cameras in here before Hanbin and Zhang Hao would be none the wiser. It's a lucky twist of fate that Hanbin got here first and only has Zhang Hao's safety in mind.

He checks the feeds again and is pleased to find that everything is as it should be: both the window and door are visible, and the camera's scope covers the entire room so he can see the bed as well. He bounces a little in excitement, then shoves his phone back in his pocket. Zhang Hao has gone out to meet a friend for lunch — Hanbin had followed him to the restaurant — but he'll likely be back soon.

When Hanbin gets home, any attempts to occupy himself fail miserably. He keeps opening and closing the app on his phone, wilting a little in disappointment every time he sees Zhang Hao's apartment is void of life. He doesn't even need to do this, as the app will send him an alert when it detects movement in the entryway, but his hands seem to be ignoring all logic. Perhaps he should have gone back to the restaurant and waited for him there.

Eventually, his phone buzzes on his desk while he's cross-checking Zhang Hao's schedule for the week. He reaches for it so quickly it almost goes flying onto the floor but he catches it just in time.

His heart thuds in his chest as he watches his angel toe off his shoes, then place them on the rack. The camera quality isn't the best, even with Hanbin shelling out for the more expensive ones, but he can still appreciate Zhang Hao's figure. He's always thought that Zhang Hao could have easily become a supermodel, if he wished. Though that doesn't mean much: Zhang Hao could do anything he wanted. And Hanbin would be behind him every step of the way.

He switches to the living room camera in preparation. Sure enough, Zhang Hao appears there a second later. There's an infinitesimal pause as Zhang Hao goes still in the entrance, hand braced on the doorframe. Hanbin's heart stops; Zhang Hao seems to be staring directly at the camera. But surely not. Hanbin had made sure that it wouldn't stand out from any angle — Zhang Hao would only see it if he was actively looking for it. He holds his breath, hoping desperately that Zhang Hao is just zoning out.

His wish comes true. After a beat, Zhang Hao moves further into the living room. He doesn't spare the camera another glance as he settles on the couch and stretches out lengthwise, scrolling through his phone. The action makes his shirt ride up, flashing a sliver of his stomach.

Hanbin grips his phone, staring at the skin-coloured pixels before wrenching his gaze away. This feels almost—illicit. His breathing is audible to his own ears. He swallows and places his phone face-down in his lap.

He needs to be more careful about this. While his motives are perfectly pure, he doesn't want this act of protection to turn into some kind of covert spying operation. That would be an infringement on Zhang Hao's privacy. And watching him like this is a distraction for Hanbin himself, too.

He resolves to only check the feeds once every ten minutes. But what if a threat manifests in those ten minutes? It's a lot of time, after all. Five minutes? No, still too infrequent. Two minutes? Hanbin knows that two minutes can drag on a lot longer than one would think. One minute, then. Maybe he should just have his phone or laptop constantly by his side whenever he knows Zhang Hao is at home. He can occupy himself with any chores or fan activities, but any sudden movement on the cameras would catch his eye.

Mind made up, he picks up his phone and exhales.

The worst thing about the cameras, he discovers, is that it quickly becomes an addiction for him. He checks them obsessively — day in, day out. Before Zhang Hao has even unlocked his front door Hanbin is already opening up the app.

Previously, he would watch Zhang Hao disappear into his apartment alone and that would be his cue to head home. If he was feeling especially sappy then he would stand in the alleyway opposite his building, hidden in the shadows, and wait for a glimpse of him. From his vantage point he could only see Zhang Hao whenever he appeared in the living room window, which would usually only happen when he was closing the curtains for the night.

Hanbin had debated, numerous times, the merit of breaking into the office building that the alleyway was connected to. This would give him a direct view into both his living room and kitchen. No one would even be in the office during the evenings, apart from the cleaners, and Hanbin could make a convincing worker. But the high-tech nature of the building, where both a code and fingerprint is required for entry, had eventually made him decide against that option.

Still, his heart would squeeze every time he saw Zhang Hao for those few seconds, drawing the curtains closed in his sleep shorts.

Now, with the cameras, he contradictorily worries more. It's true, what people say, about having too much of a good thing: being able to check on Zhang Hao when he's at home means he wants to check on him every second of every day. It's not like this is a new feeling, but at least when he watched Zhang Hao vanish into his apartment he would have no choice but to leave him to his own devices. Sure, there was a constant low-grade panic simmering within him over whether Zhang Hao had forgotten to turn the gas on the stove off overnight or if he remembered to lock his windows and doors, but Hanbin could only trust that he would be safe.

Now, though, he uses the cameras to watch over Zhang Hao like a hawk. It's like a compulsion: if Hanbin isn't there spectating, then something terrible could happen and no one would know until the next day. He even recently considered hacking into the camera on Zhang Hao's phone so he could be with him all the time. He already has access to it, after all, and this would mean he wouldn't be imagining scenarios where Zhang Hao is in danger. But he dismissed it: Zhang Hao deserves privacy. Better to just limit his voyeurism to the apartment, at least for now.

Hanbin often uses Zhang Hao for cues on what he himself should do, in order to pretend that they're side by side undertaking the same domestic activity. They run their loads of laundry at the same time, or watch the same drama together. When Zhang Hao reacts to the climax of some inane plot line, gasping cutely or shouting in outrage, Hanbin can imagine hearing those same sounds bouncing against the walls of his own apartment.

Right now they're cooking the same basic japchae recipe together. Hanbin counts himself fortunate that he stocked up the last time he went grocery shopping. He follows Zhang Hao's movements at the stove, flipping the beef strips with his spatula. Zhang Hao opens his mouth wide in a yawn, then rubs at his eyes with his fists. He's practically drowning in the hoodie he's chosen.

“Such a baby,” Hanbin murmurs fondly, tracing over the tiny Zhang Hao on his screen.

At the end of the day, after Zhang Hao emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam (the lack of cameras in there makes Hanbin antsy, only because it would be so easy for Zhang Hao to slip in the shower), Hanbin watches him slide into bed. Sometimes he reads, but most of the time he watches something on his phone before turning in for the night.

He has yet to see anything untoward. Zhang Hao doesn't date but Hanbin knows that he indulges in one-night stands, albeit rarely. He gets it: everyone has needs. It would be hypocritical for Hanbin to be upset. Still, he has no clue how he would react if he actually witnessed Zhang Hao bringing home a man from a club. To watch from his desk chair as they shed clothing en route to the bedroom, to see another man bring a writhing Zhang Hao to the brink of pleasure. Anger surges through him at the mere thought of it. Maybe he wouldn't be capable of watching. He doesn't know, and he hopes to never find out.

He can only relax when Zhang Hao is sleeping soundly, curled up in the middle of his bed. Relief settles over him. Frankly he can't believe that he didn't give in to the urges to plant cameras earlier; this is so nice, so soothing. All he's ever wanted is confirmation that Zhang Hao is safe. Anything else is just an added benefit.

He locks his phone and, with a happy sigh, rolls over to sleep.

Hanbin wants to die. He wants to die because with every second that ticks by, his assumption about where Zhang Hao will be spending the night is only proven more and more correct. Hanbin doesn't know what to do with himself. He can only stare numbly at his screen.

Zhang Hao is changing outside of the camera’s range but he reappears to check each outfit, parading in front of the mirror. This is—different. It’s not like Hanbin hasn’t seen him in similar outfits for photoshoots and song covers, but Zhang Hao is dressing like this now because he wants to get fucked. That’s his goal here.

Absently watching Zhang Hao's pre-club routine from his desk chair, he stews in jealousy. It’s one thing to know, in theory, that Zhang Hao has sex with other men and quite another to see it in practice. To see the steps leading up to it, to watch Zhang Hao carefully apply eyeliner and lipgloss, to know that another man will be tearing those clothes off of him at the end of the night. Hanbin could kill this faceless man, he really could.

He knows intrinsically that this man won't give Zhang Hao the treatment he deserves. All Zhang Hao would be to him is a notch to add to his bedpost, another blurry memory to jerk off to whenever he's feeling especially lonely. He wouldn't respect Zhang Hao enough to shape the experience into something enjoyable for him.

Hanbin would. It's not the first time he's thought this, far from it; of course he would treat Zhang Hao well. That's just a given. But it is the first time his mind refuses to budge from the idea, like the needle of a record player stuck in a groove.

“I would,” he mutters to himself slowly. So why doesn't he? What's stopping him?

A lot of things. But he can't remember a single reason why he shouldn't do this, not when he's currently faced with how Zhang Hao's ass looks in those pants when he bends over to retrieve a comb.

Hanbin slams his laptop down with too much energy, a byproduct of the adrenaline. He stares at the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly. Is he really doing this? Yes. Yes, he is.

The tracker on Zhang Hao's phone has guided him to this club, situated halfway up a hill in Itaewon. It's not one he's ever ventured into.

Hanbin had followed him in his own taxi and then hovered in the queue, directing other club-goers to skip in front of him. He's giving Zhang Hao a chance to settle in. It's still too early for anything substantial to have happened but the longer Hanbin waits, the more restless he gets. Zhang Hao must draw men like moths to a flame. Someone could be chatting him up right now.

He squares his shoulders and marches inside.

It's classier than he expected, insofar as any club can be classy. There's no thick smell of cigarette smoke racing to meet him, which is already a plus, and the soles of his shoes don't stick to the floor as he steps forward. The strobe lights flicker over him as he skirts the dance floor, the bass thrumming to the point he can feel it in his chest.

He scans the crowd of dancing bodies for Zhang Hao and frowns when he’s unable to find him. Although he appreciates that that’s a good sign — if he were dancing, he wouldn’t be dancing alone.

The bar tucked away at the back of the club is his next port of call. As luck would have it, as he nears he spots Zhang Hao on a stool, index finger tapping against his glass rhythmically. He’s blissfully alone; Hanbin quickens his pace. There’s a bored set to his posture as his eyes rove over the dancers.

Should Hanbin start dancing himself and hope that Zhang Hao approaches him organically? No, he’ll have to be the one to initiate.

The bartender looks at him expectantly, ignoring a college student’s drunken ranting at him.

“Hi. A pina colada, please.” There’s a split second of hesitation before he nods over at Zhang Hao. “And the same for him too.”

The bartender glances over. “Pink mesh vest guy?”

Hanbin confirms and pays, watching the bartender's movements with a twist in his stomach. He can't bring himself to look at Zhang Hao on the other side of the bar.

He sits on his stool and takes much more than a delicate sip, the rum a welcome shock to his senses. He can’t help his gaze straying as he drinks. At the other end of the bar, the bartender gestures over to him and Zhang Hao’s eyes follow his movement. They make eye contact, an electrifying burst which almost makes Hanbin spill his drink all over himself. Something bright blooms over Zhang Hao’s face before it’s chased away, expression smoothing out into neutrality. A moment later, Zhang Hao grabs his glass and stalks over to him. Hanbin doesn’t even have time to process it.

“Pina colada is my favourite cocktail,” he opens with, smiling in a way Hanbin has never seen before. Flirtatious, he realises. “Lucky guess.”

“I—” He almost slips up and finishes the sentence with know. “I thought so.”

Zhang Hao’s teeth flash blue in the club lighting. “You thought so? Do I look like the kind of guy whose favourite drink is pina colada?”

“Maybe.”

Zhang Hao takes a slow sip from his glass, eyelids partly lowered as he fixes his gaze on Hanbin. Hanbin tries not to stare when a drop sparkles at the corner of his mouth. Zhang Hao tilts his head. “What's your name?”

“Hanbin.” Zhang Hao has no reaction. Hanbin isn’t sure whether he should be grateful or disappointed. “And you?”

“Zhang Hao. Or Hao. Whichever.” When Hanbin deliberately keeps his face blank, Zhang Hao’s eyes sharpen in challenge. “When were you born, Hanbin-ssi?”

“2001.” He sweeps his eyes over Zhang Hao appraisingly, lingering on his waist and legs. The bass pounds in time with his heart. “You’re older, right? Can I call you hyung?”

For a moment, it looks like Zhang Hao is trying not to laugh. Then his smirk returns. “Of course.” He lifts his glass, then places it back on the bar. “You're very sweet. Will you take a dance as a thank you?”

In answer, Hanbin takes another hearty swig before sliding off his stool and following Zhang Hao into the mass of bodies. He mulls over his choices: he can afford to be bolder with other men, to make his intentions known from the start. It would be a risk to initiate that kind of flirting with Zhang Hao. He's not sure he would be capable of mustering up the nerve, anyway. And the reason he could treat the other men like that is because he didn't care about them. Zhang Hao deserves grander gestures than that; that's exactly why Hanbin's here tonight.

Zhang Hao spins around after carving out a space for them on the floor, tugging Hanbin closer by his belt loops. Confidence graces his movements, a surety in the way he closes the distance between them. The reminder that he’s evidently familiar with this slow build-up of tension smarts, but he pushes it away.

Zhang Hao leans in so Hanbin can hear him, lips brushing the shell of Hanbin's ear. Hanbin's hands contract around his waist before relaxing. “Do you come here often?”

“No,” he replies truthfully, leaning in himself. He prefers clubs that are a little trashier than this. “This is my first time, actually.”

Zhang Hao raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” he purrs. “My lucky night.”

Hanbin only has a second to prepare himself before Zhang Hao kisses him.

It's indescribable. Hanbin has imagined this exact moment so many times over the years but none of those fantasies even remotely measure up to the real thing. He feels as if each nerve ending in his body has been torn away and hastily glued back on. His mind is disassembled, then rearranged. A shudder runs riot through his body.

He had believed getting to this point in the night would take far longer. The fact that Zhang Hao clearly wants him enough to skip past the flirting—he can’t fathom it.

The pressure on his mouth disappears. Hanbin blinks his eyes open, stunned. His senses return to him slowly: the pounding rhythm of the song currently playing, the heaving of his chest, Zhang Hao before him looking radiant and very pleased with himself.

“Am I that good of a kisser?” he teases, eyes bright and amused. His shout carries over the music; two men behind him side-eye them. Hanbin shoots them a glare, because no one should ever look at Zhang Hao like that, only to have his staring contest intercepted when Zhang Hao dives forward again.

His muffled noise of surprise is quickly stolen by Zhang Hao, who deftly pries Hanbin's mouth open with his tongue. It's not like Hanbin needed much convincing in that regard — he's easy for Zhang Hao, he realises with a rush of glee. Zhang Hao doesn't need to work hard to have him, not when Hanbin has been wanting this for almost a decade at this point. They melt against each other as their tongues tangle together, Zhang Hao's hands fitting over Hanbin's hips. He tastes of pineapple, tangy and sweet.

Hanbin curls an arm around his lower back to keep him there. He's intent on exploring every centimetre of the inside of Zhang Hao's mouth, on discovering what Zhang Hao likes most when kissing. A part of him is tempted to have them grind against each other to the music, but he doesn't want anyone else to see what Zhang Hao looks like in the throes of pleasure.

Zhang Hao's lips shine with saliva when they part. Hanbin licks his own lips absently, already craving the taste of him again. Zhang Hao's eyes zero in on his mouth, before he steps back and asks something that Hanbin can't hear over the music. After the third time that he asks Zhang Hao to repeat himself, Zhang Hao frowns and wordlessly tugs them off the dance floor. They hover near the entrance to the club, Zhang Hao's hand warm around Hanbin's wrist. His heart beats triple-time.

“I'm kinda hungry,” Zhang Hao announces, no longer needing to shout. “And I want to get to know you more. Do you wanna grab some food? I know a place close to here.”

“Sure, hyung,” Hanbin says instantly. He has to clear his throat and say it again when he only speaks air.

Zhang Hao's face lights up — god, Hanbin is really going to die from how cute he is — and away they go. He drops Hanbin's wrist once they're outside and Hanbin flexes his hand, mourning the warmth.

It's fairly cold out and Hanbin is about to ask if Zhang Hao wants his jacket, until it turns out close to here quite literally means almost exactly opposite. This dumplings place seems to specialise in feeding hungry revellers and boasts of only a two-minute waiting time. Plenty of other people seem to have had the same idea as Zhang Hao tonight.

As they enter, Hanbin can't help darting self-conscious looks at Zhang Hao. The club had been darkly lit and hazy inside, in contrast to the fluorescent lights of this fast food joint. When he turns to Hanbin with a friendly smile, though, there's still not a single flicker of recognition. He really doesn't know who Hanbin is. The worry fades. He thinks that outcome is likely preferable.

“What do you think you'll get?” Zhang Hao asks, head tilted to the side as he studies the menu above the counter cutely.

Hanbin shoves his hands into his pockets to avoid smushing his cheeks instead. “Ah, I’m not hungry. But I’ll pay for hyung’s food anyway.”

“Sweet of you,” Zhang Hao thanks, squeezing the crook of Hanbin's arm. “We didn’t have to come here if you wanted to stay in the club.”

Hanbin only shakes his head, and Zhang Hao seems to accept this. His hand stays on Hanbin’s arm as he orders and Hanbin pays.

He's eternally grateful he can pay on his phone so he doesn't have to find a way to hide the photocard of a pouting Zhang Hao in his wallet. True, his lockscreen is a concert picture of Zhang Hao — one he took himself — but his phone unlocked too quickly for Zhang Hao to work it out.

They sidle away from the counter to wait for their food, Hanbin's arm still caught in his grip. Zhang Hao seems pleased for some reason, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from widening.

“What is hyung so happy about?” he blurts out, then fixes a teasing smile on his face to make up for it.

“Oh, this and that,” Zhang Hao replies vaguely. “I've just been having a nice night, that's all.”

Hanbin's smile comes easier this time around. “Oh? I feel the same.”

Zhang Hao rests his head on Hanbin's shoulder for a few moments before straightening up.

They collect Zhang Hao's food and move to one of the booths hidden away at the back, away from the general ruckus. They sit opposite each other, the table a welcome barrier between them. Hanbin doubts he would be able to keep his hands to himself if they were next to each other.

Zhang Hao eagerly digs in and wiggles in his seat when he takes the first bite, cheeks rounding adorably. Hanbin's hands itch to take a picture so he can add it to the thousands of pictures he has in the folder dedicated to Zhang Hao eating. He engraves the image into his memory instead.

“Is it good?” he finds himself asking, arms folded atop the table as he watches Zhang Hao eat fondly.

Zhang Hao hums and nods enthusiastically, swallowing before speaking. “Try.” He lifts his chopsticks to Hanbin's mouth.

Hanbin's ears feel like they're on fire. Obediently, he chews the dumpling. The sauce is a little too spicy for him but he's glad that Zhang Hao is enjoying it. He widens his eyes and nods back at him, who seems satisfied with his review and turns back to his food.

Now that they're not speaking, Hanbin's mind wanders. It hits him all at once that he’s sitting across from the idol he’s been head-over-heels in love with ever since he was a teenager. A hysterical, disbelieving laugh bubbles up within his chest.

He jogs the table when he stands up. Zhang Hao looks up at him, confused. He looks incredibly pretty, which only furthers the tightening in Hanbin’s chest.

“Bathroom,” he manages. “Be back in a minute.”

The bathroom is thankfully empty. An obnoxious pop song is blaring from the speakers. He washes his hands to give himself something to do, then stares at himself in the mirror.

He has to convince himself this isn’t a dream. There’s a manic, crazed look in his eyes. He’s surprised Zhang Hao hasn’t picked up on it. His hands are shaking. This is a scenario that only happened in his wildest, most delusional fantasies. He told himself that he was perfectly content being a fan from afar, making sure Zhang Hao is safe and happy. And it was true — Hanbin’s own outlandish desires were only that, abstract curiosities which he could daydream about in the safety of his mind. He knew from the very start that being Zhang Hao’s fan meant swearing an oath to him. He promised that Zhang Hao would be free to live his own life and Hanbin would always support him from afar, regardless of what happened. Zhang Hao is more valuable to him than anything else, even his own self.

To have his entire philosophy, the principles he’s long internalised, be uprooted over the course of a single night is enough to send a continuous round of jitters through his body. He blows out a breath and dries his hands.

Zhang Hao is waiting for him outside, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom entrance.

Hanbin pauses. “Hyung?”

“I got bored without you,” he confesses, pushing himself up off the wall. “It's not very fun when you're not there watching me.” Hanbin flushes but decides saying nothing to that is the best course of action. At this, Zhang Hao looks delighted. “You're so cute,” he coos, pinching Hanbin's cheek. “You kinda had me fooled, you know. You looked so intimidating back in the club. But you're so blushy.”

“Good thing or bad thing?”

Zhang Hao smiles with all of his teeth. “Good. Very good. I love it.” There's another burst of laughter from the seating area, followed by a loud bang which makes them both flinch. The characteristic rowdiness of a fast food place this late at night. Zhang Hao cocks his head. “You wanna get out of here?”

Hanbin keeps a lid on his desperation, determined not to let it show on his face. There's no mistaking where the night will lead at this point, but he fears any more focus given to that train of thought will lead his brain to melt. “Good idea, hyung.”

Zhang Hao steps closer. “Whose place are we going to? Yours or mine?”

Hanbin’s brain is still functioning enough to remember the Zhang Hao posters plastered on his walls, his shrine, the merch he keeps scattered around the apartment. “Mine is pretty far from here. And I—I have a roommate. Who plays games really loudly at night.”

“Really,” Zhang Hao says, a tad skeptical, but moves on. “Well, my place it is, then.” His fingers trail up and down Hanbin's arm, feather-light. His arm tingles under the leather. “Will you call a taxi?”

Hanbin orders one right there, fingers trembling as he pulls up the KakaoT app. He hopes Zhang Hao doesn't notice. He confirms their current location before passing his phone over.

Zhang Hao looks at it blankly, as if confused.

“Your address, hyung,” Hanbin prompts, and Zhang Hao considers him for a moment before inputting it. Hanbin looks away, making a show of politeness as if he doesn’t already know exactly where Zhang Hao lives. A driver picks up their request quickly.

Zhang Hao hands him back his phone. “I don’t drive,” he says suddenly, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “I kept forgetting to learn. I came over here almost ten years ago so you would think that I should have my licence by now…”

“I can help you,” Hanbin offers at once. Which is an objectively insane thing to say to someone he’s supposed to have met in a club only a couple of hours ago, but Zhang Hao only smiles. “And wow, almost ten years? No wonder hyung speaks even better Korean than I do.”

Zhang Hao bites his lip to contain his smile, ears reddening. “Charmer.” There’s another obnoxious peal of laughter which makes them wince. “Let’s wait outside?”

Hanbin accepts and Zhang Hao sticks close to him as they head for the exit, palm curved around the nape of Hanbin’s neck. He can feel himself heating at the casual intimacy of it. He’s grateful for the blast of cold air as they step outside.

Zhang Hao, on the other hand, must not agree. They wait in the inky shadows of an awning, huddling together. Zhang Hao drops his hand and shivers.

Hanbin is already shrugging off his jacket and draping it over Zhang Hao. “Is hyung cold?”

“A little,” Zhang Hao admits, hunching into his jacket gratefully. “Thank you, Hanbinie.” Hanbin feels like his cheeks have been set alight. Zhang Hao shivers again. “It really is so cold…”

Hanbin hesitates for only a second before wrapping Zhang Hao in his arms, their cheeks pressed together. His heart feels like it’s jumped up into his throat; maybe Zhang Hao can even hear it beating. Zhang Hao fits in his arms perfectly, so easily shielded by Hanbin’s slightly broader stature. Like this, he could—he cuts that thought off swiftly.

Zhang Hao relaxes into his hold. “You're so warm,” he whispers, turning his head and pressing his nose into Hanbin’s cheek. “Thank you for warming hyung up, Hanbin-ah.”

Subtly, Hanbin cants his hips away. “You’re welcome,” he croaks. He can feel the edges of Zhang Hao’s smile pressed against his jaw, too.

“You're so pretty too,” Zhang Hao adds as an afterthought. Hanbin almost collapses. “You must have men throwing themselves at you all the time.”

He’s not exactly wrong, but: “I guess. I don’t really pay attention to it most of the time. I can be very picky.”

Zhang Hao pulls away and hums inquisitively. “Oh? What do you like, then?”

“You,” he replies a bit too quickly, a bit too honestly. Zhang Hao throws his head back and laughs. Hanbin watches him in wonder. “Hyung must have even more men throwing themselves at him.”

Zhang Hao sobers quickly. “Well,” he says coyly, “I can be very picky too.”

He kisses Hanbin then, a slow and exploratory press of their lips that leaves him reeling. It feels so intrinsically correct to have Zhang Hao like this, his fingers digging into Hanbin’s waist and Hanbin’s jacket draped over his shoulders and his warm puffs of breath hitting Hanbin’s mouth when they separate. Hanbin thinks he could kiss him forever.

Hanbin’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he scrambles to dismiss the notification that their driver is about thirty seconds away. Zhang Hao steals another peck before stepping away from him, clutching Hanbin’s jacket so it doesn’t fall.

Hanbin holds open the rear passenger door for him and Zhang Hao stifles a giggle, giving him a look which Hanbin can only describe as warm. They sit pressed up against each other, Hanbin in the middle seat and their hands linked over Zhang Hao’s lap. He doesn't seem to want to talk with the taxi driver listening in, so Hanbin follows his lead.

Zhang Hao returns to clinging to him as they enter his building, shoes squeaking loudly on the shining linoleum. As always, the inside of the elevator is sparkling clean too.

“I've never been in an apartment building as nice as this before,” Hanbin lies. “Your rent must be sky-high.”

Zhang Hao makes a face. “Well, I guess it’s a bit exclusive. More security this way.”

Hanbin almost laughs.

Surreal is one word for how it feels to be standing next to Zhang Hao as he plugs in his code, fingers moving over the keypad in a pattern that Hanbin is intimately familiar with.

Once inside, they shuck off their shoes in a sort of meditative silence. Zhang Hao hangs up his jacket.

“Your apartment is so nice,” he tries, making a show of looking around. He's never really had to put his acting skills to use before.

Zhang Hao hums. “Come check out the view. Then you'll understand why I paid so much for it.”

With a hand on his shoulder he leads Hanbin to the floor-length windows in the living room, sweeping the curtains to the side with his arm. Hanbin is reminded of all the times he watched him do the exact opposite while Hanbin stared up at him from the street.

“It is a beautiful view,” he admits when the twinkling lights of Seoul greet them. He’s been here enough times to not find it extraordinarily remarkable. He would much rather cherish the more superior view right next to him, so that’s what he does. When he turns, Zhang Hao is already watching him. “What does hyung do for work? If you don't mind my asking.”

Zhang Hao studies him and doesn't answer. There’s a silence that swells until it distends, enlarging the gulf between them.

Hanbin scrambles to fill it: “Only because I was thinking maybe I should switch careers, haha. This really is a nice place.”

Zhang Hao shifts, snapping the tension between them. “I love how you're acting like you've never seen my apartment before, Sung Hanbin-ssi,” he drawls. Hanbin freezes. Time seems to stop. The words rebound in his skull until he can confirm that there's only one meaning available. How can Zhang Hao know?

He forces a smile, ignoring the mounting panic within him. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Zhang Hao arches one perfect eyebrow. There's a small, strange smile on his face. “You think I haven’t been paying attention too? Sung Hanbin, born in 2001, the first fanboy I met. My most devoted fan, still here after all these years.” The hand on Hanbin's shoulder tightens. Neither of them are smiling now. “Am I wrong?”

It only seems fitting for Hanbin to slide to the floor and kneel in supplication, as if he's a child being chastised. His hands curl into fists over his knees. “I—”

“You’ve been here before,” Zhang Hao cuts in. “Haven’t you?”

Hanbin's head hangs low, unprepared to face how Zhang Hao must be looking at him. “Yes,” he admits hoarsely.

“A lot of times?” Hanbin nods shamefully. “What do you do on these visits?”

“Hyung,” he mumbles, hunching into himself. “I don't…”

“Tell me.”

His mind spins. He settles for a version of the truth. “I just like to—walk around.”

“To look into my life, right?” Hanbin exhales shakily. “What else? Don't lie to me.”

Hanbin's breaths are coming too quickly. His head is beginning to hurt. “I…”

“My clothes, Hanbin,” he prompts. His tone is inscrutable. “You've taken a few of my shirts, haven't you? My underwear too. Did you think I wouldn't notice?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, even though he really isn't, despite everything. But he never wanted to be found out like this. This is a nightmare. His eyes dart towards the door. “Hyung, I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“No,” Zhang Hao says firmly, “you're not going anywhere.” He waits. “Is the clothes-stealing all you did?”

Hanbin nods, frantically this time. “Yes.”

Zhang Hao remains silent. Then: “You've still forgotten one thing.”

Hanbin frowns in confusion. “Hyung?”

Zhang Hao gently takes his chin and lifts his head, then directs it so he's left blinking at the camera stationed in the corner of the living room. His skin prickles with something akin to fear. Distantly, he wonders if Zhang Hao has contacted the police.

Zhang Hao continues, “Did you think I wouldn't notice those too?” His head is turned back towards Zhang Hao with his dark, bottomless eyes. Hanbin can't read his expression at all which sends another wave of panic through him. Zhang Hao softens his voice: “How often did you watch me?”

Hanbin shakes his head in protest, careful not to dislodge the hand still on his chin. “I didn't, I swear, hyung, I just put them up because I was worried about intruders after what happened to that girl group.”

“Ah,” he intones, “but you would watch me anyway, isn’t that right? Watching me watching TV or cooking dinner or getting ready for bed?”

Hanbin horribly feels like he might cry; Zhang Hao is making him sound like some kind of neighbourhood pervert.

“Relax,” Zhang Hao soothes in a whisper. “It’s okay, Hanbinie. So you were acting as my protector, then?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “Just want to keep you safe, hyung, that’s all I want.”

Zhang Hao hums, hand sliding up to palm Hanbin’s cheek. “All you want? Nothing else?” Hanbin opts to remain silent to that; he doesn’t know what the right answer is. There’s a note of wonder in Zhang Hao’s voice when he asks: “What would you do for me?”

“Anything,” Hanbin vows. “Everything. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Zhang Hao, finally, smiles. “You’re so cute,” he says with a quiet laugh. “When did you first think of fucking me?”

The whiplash Hanbin experiences from the abrupt switch in questioning is incomparable. Terribly, he feels himself thicken in his jeans at hearing the word fucking from Zhang Hao’s mouth.

Zhang Hao must read the shock on his face. “Don’t play innocent now. It’s why you approached me in the club tonight, isn’t it? You saw an opportunity to finally fuck the man of your dreams.” He pouts. “But then you’d end up moving on after you finally had me. I’d lose the novelty.”

“No,” Hanbin almost shouts, hands flying up to grab Zhang Hao’s hips in emphasis. “No, that’s impossible. You could never lose the novelty for me.”

Zhang Hao purses his lips, pleased. “So back to my original question.”

Hanbin swallows. “It was Summer Rain. With the crop top.”

“Ah,” he says with glee. “My waist, right?” Zhang Hao takes his hands and slides them up from his hips to his waist. “This waist?”

Hanbin moans brokenly. “Hyung—”

“I was waiting for you to lose interest in me,” Zhang Hao confesses, increasing the pressure on Hanbin’s trapped hands. “No one ever lasts this long.”

“Never,” he says vehemently. “Never, hyung. I’ll always be with you, no matter what.” He kisses his clothed stomach to punctuate his statement, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Zhang Hao shudders and cards a hand through his hair. “Even after I stopped being an idol? Would you still look for me even then? Still follow me around when I get a normal job?”

“Yes,” Hanbin rasps. “I can’t let go of you. I just can’t.”

Zhang Hao's eyelids flutter. A renewed sense of determination hardens his face. The hand in his hair pauses. “Tell me, Hanbinie. Have you ever fucked anyone?”

“Yes, hyung.” When Zhang Hao looks displeased at that answer he rushes to say, “I was just practising for you, I swear. I tried to find men that look like you. Of course no one looks like hyung but—”

“Hanbin,” he comforts. “It’s okay. I think that’s very sweet. But why don’t you put it to use, hm?”

Hanbin continues to kneel for a moment, astonished, before he stands up. He has no idea what his face must be telegraphing. It’s like every cell in his body is waiting on Zhang Hao’s next command with bated breath, which really isn’t that different from how he usually lives.

Zhang Hao seems amused. “Of course, I don't need to show you where my bedroom is, do I?”

Hanbin’s hands tighten around his hips. “No, hyung.”

Zhang Hao steps to the side. “Then lead the way.”

Hanbin takes his hand. His muscle memory takes over as Zhang Hao trails after him, their fingers intertwined. Zhang Hao is the one to push him inside when Hanbin pauses in the threshold, then push him down onto the bed. Which feels incorrect, as he doesn't want Zhang Hao to be craning his neck, so he rolls them over swiftly.

Zhang Hao's legs fall open and Hanbin slots himself between them neatly. He's already half-hard, just from the anticipation and having Zhang Hao beneath him. His hair has haloed out on the sheets. A part of Hanbin is convinced that this is all an elaborate dream — it was mere hours ago that he saw Zhang Hao changing into his club outfit and cursed the man who would get to fuck Zhang Hao in his bed tonight. And now here he is.

“You're so…” Hanbin starts, then shakes his head. Words fail him. Zhang Hao smiles up at him and tugs him down.

Hanbin is a diligent student. He has to learn everything that he'd guessed but had never received confirmation for until now: that Zhang Hao loves kissing, that he whines when Hanbin sucks on his tongue, that he allows Hanbin to align their crotches so they can grind together. That he sounds so fucking pretty that Hanbin has to kiss him harder just to try and quieten him. There's a very real danger that this will end prematurely otherwise.

When he starts to ruck Zhang Hao's shirt up impatiently, Zhang Hao lets him. When he extricates himself from their kiss so he can start to pull Zhang Hao's jeans down, Zhang Hao lets him. And when he mouths over the shape of him in his — tiny — briefs, Zhang Hao lets him.

But he doesn't let him shove a hand down the front of his own boxers and grip the base of his cock to take the edge off.

He sits up, displacing Hanbin. “Off,” he begs, tugging at Hanbin's shirt, and Hanbin complies. He steps out of his pants, too, until he's left clad in only his underwear. Zhang Hao is watching him undress hungrily, eyes lingering on his tattoos.

Hanbin wants him naked, so he strips him of the final piece of offending clothing. Then he's free to marvel at all the bare skin abruptly on display to him. Zhang Hao's abs contract at the heat in his gaze. Long legs, a tapered waist, a pretty cock. His hand grabs his own thigh to centre himself.

“Hyung is so pretty,” he says, staring openly at the sprawl of Zhang Hao's limbs on the bedspread. He skims a hand over Zhang Hao's tiny, perfect waist and watches the muscles clench in Zhang Hao's stomach as he shivers. He's wary of getting more handsy than that, only because he's afraid of how much he wants to do. “So pretty that he shouldn't even be real.”

“But I am real,” Zhang Hao says softly, stretching out in emphasis. “And I want you to touch me.” He beckons Hanbin. “Come here, baby.”

He kisses Hanbin sweetly, as if he's trying to sap his worry from him. It does the job — Hanbin relaxes into it, though his anxiety returns to tug at him when they separate. He kisses Zhang Hao from temple to jaw, lips settling against the sharp jut there.

“Don't be nervous,” Zhang Hao whispers. “It's just me.” Hanbin can see the teasing edge to his smile out of the corner of his eye.

Hanbin shoves his face in the crook of Zhang Hao's neck, clinging on as Zhang Hao's body shakes with his laughter. “Hyung,” he whines, and the laughing stops. He can hear Zhang Hao's pulse, rabbit-quick.

“Don't be nervous,” he repeats, invitation lacing his tone in a way that makes Hanbin's toes curl. “I know you'll fuck me well. Won't you?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “Because hyung is mine. I'm the only one who can fuck him how he needs.” He feels, more than hears, Zhang Hao's breath catch. Hanbin unfurls and kneels between his parted thighs, looking down at Zhang Hao spread out before him. “I don't know where to start,” he whispers.

“Well,” Zhang Hao says coyly as he guides Hanbin's hands to his chest. “Here is always a good place to start.”

Of course, why didn't Hanbin think of that? It hits him, all at once, what he wishes to do. He leans down to trail kisses down his sternum, his skin smooth against Hanbin's lips, before switching tack and latching his mouth onto one of his nipples. Zhang Hao squeaks, hands flying up to tangle in Hanbin's hair. He's grounding Hanbin, keeping them there, so Hanbin sucks on the nub eagerly, his tongue swirling around it. Zhang Hao is moving against him and biting back whines, hips desperately seeking friction. As if in a trance, Hanbin moves to suck on the other nub too. Zhang Hao seems to really be sensitive here — another hypothesis of his proven correct. He wonders if he could get him to come just from this, as he's imagined in great detail numerous times in the past. But, right now, there are more pressing matters at hand.

He eases off with a pop, then thumbs at the shine of saliva he leaves behind. Zhang Hao's chest heaves as he flings his arm over his face, the tip of his cock releasing a steady dribble of precome. Hanbin wants him more than anything. He's used to living with that want, to have it possess both his body and mind for years now, but with Zhang Hao in the flesh he feels like a novice all over again.

Now that Zhang Hao has released him, he sits back on his haunches and continues praying at his altar. Hanbin squeezes his waist reverently, unable to tear his gaze away from how criminally small it looks in his hands.

Zhang Hao squirms a little when he stares at him for too long, removing his arm. “What is it?”

“Just…” His cock aches. “I've never seen someone more made to be fucked.”

Zhang Hao's entire body flushes a pretty pink at that. Hanbin has to fight the urge to rut against his thigh like an animal. He has a feeling that Zhang Hao would let him, but Hanbin wants—no, needs to win Zhang Hao’s approval. To have Zhang Hao think of him whenever he gets off, knowing that no one else will ever come close to how good Hanbin is at putting him first.

He skates his fingers over Zhang Hao’s thighs, pausing to gently knead the muscle there, before lowering himself so that he’s flat against the mattress. He dithers at a crossroads: hips, cock, ass, thighs. All in Hanbin’s top ten Zhang Hao features. He doesn’t know where to start.

Well, the answer is obvious. Unfortunately for him, Zhang Hao pulls him away by the hair when Hanbin’s breath ghosts over his hole. Hanbin pouts up at him and sees Zhang Hao's dick twitch out of the corner of his eye. “Hyung won't let me eat him out?”

Zhang Hao swallows audibly. “Trust me, baby, I want that just as much as you do. But I think we both know that you could spend hours just doing that, and I want your cock much more desperately.”

He feels a bit rabid, hearing Zhang Hao say it so bluntly, and has to stop himself from humping the mattress. Hanbin doesn't disagree with his argument. He can't find it in himself to be truly upset either — all this means is that he's guaranteed to have Zhang Hao sitting on his face at a later date. A very imminent later date, he hopes.

In acceptance of Zhang Hao's decision his teeth sink into the meat of Zhang Hao's thigh instead, the skin every bit as smooth as it looks. He's determined to mark him up, to have Zhang Hao feel the ache whenever he sits. It won't be permanent, not like Hanbin wishes, but it will do.

Above him, Zhang Hao is letting out these little breathy moans, his other leg slung over Hanbin's shoulder and twitching restlessly. Hanbin holds him still until he's satisfied with the bite he's given him, then turns his head to nuzzle into his other thigh. He gently nips at the skin there, preparing him for another round.

“Hanbin,” Zhang Hao whines, thighs clamping around Hanbin's head, “Hanbinie, feels so good.”

Hanbin can't help it; he grinds against the mattress, desperate for relief. His mouth falls open in a wanton groan, the sound muffled into Zhang Hao's thigh. Zhang Hao shudders at the feeling, before sliding his legs off of his shoulders so he can pull Hanbin up to kiss him sloppily. It's messy and desperate, their tongues twining together. Hanbin's hands find purchase around Zhang Hao's waist again. He curls his fingers around it, pressing harder. Maybe he can bruise him up like this too.

Zhang Hao looks like an angel when they part, dazed and flushed and so perfectly fuckable. Dreams don't compare one iota to this. His cock strains against the fabric of his boxers. He doesn't think he's ever been harder in his life.

“Hyung,” he moans, voice breaking. “Hyung, I'm really sorry but I think I'm going to come.”

Zhang Hao laughs, albeit not unkindly. “Already? Just from this? That's okay, Hanbinie.” His legs wind around Hanbin's waist and tug him down so they're closer, predatory grin on his face. “What's your refractory period like?”

“With you,” he says, breath hitching, “with you it will be easy.”

Zhang Hao's grin widens. “So problem solved.” His hand splays over Hanbin's stomach, pinky finger just barely brushing the waistband of Hanbin's boxers. “What if I get you off like this, hm? Then you can fuck me as soon as you're ready.”

Hanbin tries valiantly not to come in his pants and — mostly — succeeds. In a bid to distract himself, he leans down to kiss Zhang Hao again. The movement causes Zhang Hao's hand to slide down so he's cupping Hanbin's bulge. Hanbin groans and shudders above him, grinding against his palm before he can stop it. Zhang Hao hurriedly pulls back, giving Hanbin a shocked look.

Abruptly, Hanbin realises that that was maybe a little too much for him. He makes a pathetic sound, disgusted with himself for surprising Zhang Hao like that, and cants his hips away. “Sorry, hyung, I didn't—”

“No, no, baby, it's okay,” Zhang Hao reassures, pulling Hanbin back with a hand on his hip. He still looks a little disoriented. “I just…”

He squeezes Hanbin's bulge again, mouth slackening as desire floods his eyes. Again, Hanbin moans and rocks into his touch. He could seriously get off just like this. Zhang Hao swears to himself in Chinese, then tugs Hanbin's boxers down without preamble.

Hanbin's so hard he's already leaking from the tip. In their current position, it would only take a small shuffle up to nudge the head of his cock against Zhang Hao's cherry-red mouth. He swallows a pool of saliva at the thought.

“Fuck,” Zhang Hao whispers, eyes as round as saucers. “You were hiding this from me?” His fingers glide, tentatively, over the shaft and Hanbin tenses up. “How is that even gonna fit?”

Zhang Hao's awe really isn't helping Hanbin's current predicament. He bites back another noise and shifts so that he's arched over Zhang Hao, hands on the mattress. Zhang Hao's club make-up is still on, eyeliner giving him a more seductive look. Though he doesn't need any help on that front.

“Did you like thinking about this?” Zhang Hao asks quietly, watching Hanbin's face as he begins to jerk him off. It's a little drier than Hanbin usually likes it; Zhang Hao seems to pick up on this and spits into his hand before wrapping it around him again. “Me under you?”

“Of course,” he says hoarsely, hips kicking whenever Zhang Hao teases the head.

Zhang Hao smirks. It's an unfairly attractive look on him. Hanbin feels himself get wetter, slick sounds magnifying. “Yeah? How do you think I like to be fucked, baby?”

“Hard,” Hanbin says immediately, and Zhang Hao bites down on an endeared smile. “But you like to be treated like you're special too.”

He's spent entire days envisioning what Zhang Hao would enjoy most in bed, what words and gestures and personas he would respond to. Hanbin looks forward to testing out all of his theories.

Zhang Hao pouts, affronted. "Like I'm special?”

“You are,” he hastily rectifies. “You are special.”

“Good.” His hand lingers at his head, thumb teasing at the underside. When Hanbin shudders like he's been struck, a keen interest flares in his eyes. It's obvious that Zhang Hao is studying him too, learning what Hanbin enjoys most. The thought makes him drool precome all over Zhang Hao's fist.

Hanbin is panting embarrassingly loud. He already feels like he's ran a marathon, chest tight. “Hyung,” he rasps. “Hyung, you're so…” His gaze keeps straying to Zhang Hao's parted lips, perfectly plump.

Zhang Hao, noticing this, lets his tongue peek out for a moment and blinks, heavy-lidded, up at Hanbin. “If you weren't so close to coming,” he promises, voice low and gravelly, “then you would already be fucking my mouth. But I want to savour it, okay?”

Hanbin bows forward, as if the wind has been knocked out of him, and comes with a groan. He shoots over Zhang Hao’s stomach, which would probably make him come again if he could. Zhang Hao whispers to him throughout, white noise that Hanbin can't translate into real words while his ears are ringing. He feels as if his brain has been cleaved in two.

When he regains control of his own body, still panting from oversensitivity and arms trembling, Zhang Hao finally stops stroking him. “You come so much,” he remarks casually, lifting his hand to his mouth and licking his palm. Hanbin has to fight not to collapse right there. He must have died and gone to heaven.

As appealing as the image of Zhang Hao with stripes of Hanbin's cum on his stomach is, he doesn't want Zhang Hao to feel uncomfortable when it starts to dry. He leans down and begins to lick it off, tongue laving over Zhang Hao's skin. Zhang Hao's gasp rings in his ears. Spurred on by the noise, Hanbin sets about his task enthusiastically and cleans his stomach for him. He indulges himself too: he can't help sucking a mark into the skin. Zhang Hao whimpers, beautifully high and reedy, and Hanbin bites down harder in the hopes of wringing more of those noises out of him. His cock throbs weakly between his legs.

Zhang Hao tugs at his hair. “Baby, baby,” he chants, squirming underneath Hanbin. “I'm gonna—I need you inside me.”

Hanbin eases off him, straightening up as he pants. He can feel that his mouth has stretched into a proud smile but he can't bring himself to care. To have Zhang Hao begging for his cock is literally a dream come true.

Zhang Hao fumbles with the top drawer of his nightstand, scowling to himself when it takes more than a millisecond to locate the lube. The bottle lands on the bedspread. The drawer slams shut.

“You're clean, right?” Zhang Hao asks quickly, opening the bottle for him.

Hanbin's brain breaks at the implication, then reassembles. He refuses to think about it. “I…yes.”

“Good,” Zhang Hao says with finality, pouring lube onto Hanbin's fingers. Then, too casually: “I stretched myself earlier. I was hoping I would get fucked tonight but men at clubs never have any patience to do it properly.”

Hanbin tenses at the thought of anyone else fucking Zhang Hao, unable to control the scowl that overtakes his features.

Zhang Hao smiles in fond amusement. “Relax,” he whispers, guiding Hanbin's hand to his hole. “You're the one in my bed, baby.”

True to his word, Zhang Hao is already loose. Hanbin fucks two fingers into him easily, lube tracking down his wrist. Zhang Hao tightens then relaxes around him, head tipping back as he exhales. Hanbin stares at the arch of his unmarked neck and thinks, deliriously, about a world where he can decorate Zhang Hao in bruises.

“Hyung is so pretty here too,” he whispers, admiring the mouthwatering stretch of Zhang Hao's hole around his fingers. Zhang Hao whines breathily, either in response to the praise or the third finger that Hanbin has added. “And sounds so pretty as well.”

“Hanbin,” he gasps, rocking down on his fingers. “Hanbin, more.”

Loath to ever deny him, Hanbin curls his fingers inside so that he's stroking his walls. “Like this?”

Zhang Hao melts back into the mattress. “Just like that,” he sighs. “Good boy.”

Hanbin cups his spare hand over his crotch, grinding against his palm weakly. He hadn't meant to, but it's difficult to keep his promises to himself when Zhang Hao is giving him everything he hoped he would.

Zhang Hao's legs twitch, one of them hooking around his waist, and he props himself up on his elbows. His previous demeanour has gone, replaced with a fiery sort of impatience. “That's enough, baby. Don't touch yourself when I'm right here.”

Hanbin drags his fingers out, watching the stretch of his hole greedily. Anticipation thrums through him. If he thinks too deeply about what he's going to do then this will end much quicker than either of them want.

Zhang Hao pushes the lube into his hand. “Treat me well, won't you?” He pouts up at him. “I'm tired of always having to do all of the work. Men are so lazy.”

Hanbin fumbles with the bottle. “I'm never lazy when it comes to you, hyung,” he rushes to say. “I'm nothing like them.”

Zhang Hao smiles, self-satisfaction practically bleeding out of him. “I know.”

Hanbin slicks himself up, fisting himself loosely as Zhang Hao wraps both legs around his waist. Both of them are leaking precome all over themselves; he's thrilled to have the evidence that Zhang Hao wants this just as much as him. He's content to just kneel and take his time committing this Zhang Hao to memory, until the man in question whines at him to hurry up.

The first press inside is nothing short of euphoric. He actually has to squeeze his eyes shut so that he's not looking at Zhang Hao beneath him like every wet dream he's ever had; he can't come too early again. Then his eyes fly open once he realises that keeping them shut is only narrowing his focus down to the sensation of Zhang Hao around him.

Zhang Hao, to his credit, seems to find this flattering. There's a touch of amusement in his expression as he runs his hands up and down Hanbin's biceps in a soothing gesture. Until Hanbin just keeps going, feeding his cock to him slowly, and the amusement vanishes. He bottoms out with a heavy exhale, unable to think beyond being entirely enveloped in Zhang Hao's body.

“Hyung feels so tight,” he whispers, eyes flickering over the signs of vague discomfort in Zhang Hao's face. “So perfect for me.”

The discomfort eases. Zhang Hao's eyes blink open, dark and glassy. He tilts his chin up with a small pout and Hanbin scrambles to oblige him, their mouths meeting as he dips down. In his haste to appease him, Hanbin shoves deeper inside. Zhang Hao yelps into their kiss but curls his arms around the span of Hanbin's shoulders, keeping him there. In apology, Hanbin softens his kiss. Zhang Hao's tongue traces his teeth in acceptance before he withdraws, hand curving around the back of Hanbin's neck.

“You're so big,” he says, lips brushing the shell of Hanbin's ear. “Don't you think you're splitting hyung open like this? What if hyung can't walk tomorrow?”

Hanbin throbs inside him. He's so turned on he could cry. “I'll carry him,” he says feverishly. “Whatever hyung wants.”

Zhang Hao hums, pleased. Hanbin gets the impression that this was the right answer. His arms slide off Hanbin's back, freeing him from his constraints. “You can move,” he says imperiously, watching Hanbin's face.

Holding Zhang Hao's thighs for leverage, Hanbin carefully pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into him. Zhang Hao moans on each downstroke, his hands white-knuckled where they grip the sheets. He looks like a vision.

“Hyung,” he breathes, drawing in and out steadily once he feels Zhang Hao is ready for it. Zhang Hao looks drunk already, all slack mouth and blown-wide pupils, but Hanbin wants to confirm that he's doing his job correctly. “Hyung, is it good?”

“It's so good.” His eyes sweep down Hanbin's body appreciatively, then back up again. “Knew this is how you would fuck me, that you would give it to me like you know what's best for me.”

Hanbin's hips snap forward. “Hyung, gege—”

"Fuck,” Zhang Hao groans, drawn-out. “Again.”

“Gege,” he tests. He gasps when Zhang Hao tightens around him. “Gege, you feel amazing.”

He alternates between gripping at Zhang Hao's waist and his thighs as he fucks into him. He's spoiled for choice here. Years of fantasies couldn't prepare him for this, for how Zhang Hao's body sucks him in and bounces with each measured thrust.

“So good,” Zhang Hao repeats, beginning to slur now. “Look at you fucking gege so well. I bet you thought about it a lot, right?”

“All the time,” Hanbin says, holding Zhang Hao in place. “I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. Just wanted to imagine how to make gege feel good.”

Zhang Hao coos at him. “And it's paid off. You're making gege feel so good, the best he's ever had.” Hanbin accidentally jolts him up the bed at that, too caught up in the idea of being Zhang Hao's best, and Zhang Hao moans loudly. When Hanbin adjusts them again, he laughs breathlessly. “Oh, you like that? Should I also tell you that I thought about this too?”

Hanbin's rhythm falters in shock. “Hyung thought about me too?”

“Mm. Whenever you would stick so close to me in airports.” His legs wind tighter around Hanbin, voice going breathier. “Used to fantasise that you wouldn't even take your mask off or speak, you would just—just follow me into the bathroom and—”

Hanbin is shaking. He feels like if it weren't for Zhang Hao holding him together he would shatter. "Hyung would have let me?” he asks breathlessly, in disbelief.

“Of course.” He gasps, throwing his head back as Hanbin grinds against his prostate. He's beautiful. “I've been waiting for you for, hah, so long.”

The revelation impacts him so deeply that he falters again, his mind stuck on Zhang Hao's confession. Zhang Hao clenches down around him, urging him to go faster with a knock of ankles against his back, and Hanbin hurries to oblige him. A part of him wants to turn Zhang Hao around so he can experience the no doubt incredible view from behind, but that would mean pulling out. Hanbin can't bear to be apart from him, not even for a second, and he doesn't want to miss this either: Zhang Hao watching him with half-lidded eyes, twin spots of red high in his cheeks. So many times, he's envisioned what Zhang Hao must look like when he's cock-dumb. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Zhang Hao whines in protest when Hanbin pauses to position Zhang Hao's legs over his shoulders, craving a deeper angle.

“Fuck, you take cock so well,” he swears, sliding an arm around Zhang Hao's lower back and speeding up. “Knew you were made for it, for me. Gonna fuck you everyday, okay? You'll let me, right, hyung?”

“Yes,” Zhang Hao chokes out, sweat shining on his forehead. “Everyday, I promise. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.” He reaches up to grope Hanbin's chest, nails surely leaving indents on his pecs. The smile he gives Hanbin is fatal. “We match in that way, don't we?” The pressure on his chest disappears and is transferred to his back as Zhang Hao drives him deeper. Hanbin's arm is shaking with the effort of holding himself up, but Zhang Hao's pleasure takes precedence. “Come on, baby. I'm yours.”

I'm yours. He says it like there's nothing else he'd rather be.

“Hyung, gege,” Hanbin babbles, so in love he's sick with it. “The first time I saw you I knew I wanted you forever. You're all I can ever think about. I'll give you everything, anything. You're—you’re—”

Zhang Hao groans and draws him into another kiss even though it practically folds him in half. The angle isn't quite right like this, because Hanbin doesn't want to slow his pace, but he doesn't care about their teeth clacking when he has Zhang Hao moaning into his mouth. Hanbin greedily swallows his noises for him. Zhang Hao bites down on his bottom lip almost viciously, tugging it between his teeth, and Hanbin whimpers. He hopes it bleeds.

The noise seems to flip a switch in Zhang Hao. He releases Hanbin and sets his hands on his shoulders, legs easing off. “My Hanbinie has been taking care of me so well,” he intones, pushing Hanbin out of him and back onto the bed. “So I'll let him rest.”

Hanbin instinctively reaches out to hold him as Zhang Hao sinks down on him again, arms slung around Hanbin's shoulders. He looks like a god who has deigned to accept Hanbin's worship.

Hanbin moans when he bottoms out, fingers digging into Zhang Hao's waist desperately. “Hyung—”

“Shh,” Zhang Hao soothes, rolling his hips slowly. “Let gege take care of you now.” He's speaking so quietly it feels like the world has formed a bubble around them, condensed to Zhang Hao snug around him. Zhang Hao holds him in place, fingers gently gripping either side of his chin. His eyes are so black. “Just look at me, baby. I love it when you look at me.”

Hanbin only lasts about thirty seconds after that, unable to withhold the lethal combination of Zhang Hao's words and body. It rips through him so intensely that he presses bruises into Zhang Hao's waist and tears track down his cheeks, overwhelmed at the rush of pleasure. Zhang Hao gasps when he sees them and bounces in his lap, Hanbin's cum leaking out of him. The sound is obscene. When Zhang Hao leans forward to lick his tears up, hips writhing, Hanbin swears he almost blacks out.

“Hanbin,” he's chanting hoarsely, “Hanbin, Hanbin, my Hanbin, fuck—”

Hanbin still somehow has the presence of mind to jerk him off, hand wrapping around Zhang Hao's perfect cock for the first time. He must have ascended to a higher plane of being.

“You're perfect, gege.” He doesn't even recognise his own voice. “The entire world should be kissing your feet.”

Zhang Hao clamps around him as he comes with a pitched ah, the long line of his neck exposed to Hanbin's hungry gaze. He never understood the appeal of religion until now — this must be what believers have experienced for centuries, like they're witnessing the birth of something monumental.

Zhang Hao shakes through the aftershocks, blush painting his face a pretty red, then reaches down for Hanbin's wrist with a determined glint in his eye. Hanbin must make some sort of broken noise as Zhang Hao licks off his own cum on Hanbin's hand steadfastly, eyelids lowered. He's not expecting him to flash his open mouth at Hanbin, cum still on his tongue, and join their mouths in a kiss. Zhang Hao pushes his tongue inside and Hanbin, understanding his goal here, sucks. Zhang Hao's hands are warm and gentle as they cradle his face.

Once he's swallowed it all, Zhang Hao pulls away slightly and gives him a light peck. “Good boy.”

Somewhat embarrassingly, Hanbin twitches inside and Zhang Hao snorts. There's a silly smile on his face as his eyes linger on Hanbin.

Hanbin ducks his head shyly. “What?”

Zhang Hao smiles wider and pinches his cheek. “I was just admiring your blush. It's so cute, I love it.” He huffs out a laugh. “You'll always be so adorable to me.”

Hanbin kisses his jaw, holding him tightly in his arms as he tips them back onto the bed. “Hyung will always be adorable to me too.”

All of a sudden, uncertainty flashes over Zhang Hao's face. “So you still haven't changed your mind?”

“About what?”

“Well, you've gotten what you want now. You've had your fill.”

“No,” Hanbin refutes immediately. He can't fathom how this is even a question. “I haven't. And I never will. Because I want everything with gege. Everything.”

Zhang Hao seems to relax, the line of his shoulders loosening like a string that's been snapped. “That's good,” he whispers. “Because I want everything with you too.” He smooths his thumb over Hanbin's eyebrow, expression contemplative. “I don't know what I'd do if you ever left me alone.”

“I'll die before that ever happens,” he says honestly. “You're mine, hyung, just like I'm yours.”

He dots a row of kisses along Zhang Hao's shoulder as Zhang Hao sighs and strokes his hair. He really is in heaven.

They breathe together, Zhang Hao carding his hand through Hanbin's damp hair over and over again. His body is starting to feel uncomfortably sticky but he'll gladly withstand it to have Zhang Hao as he is now, so perfect and pretty and unequivocally his.

When Zhang Hao starts to shift like he’s uncomfortable but doesn’t want to dislodge him, Hanbin makes the decision for him. “Do you wanna shower together, hyung?”

Zhang Hao smiles, bright and beautiful. The sun, about to rise outside, can't even wish to compare. “I’d love to.”

It only hits him the next morning. Zhang Hao is in the kitchen, it sounds like, a low hum of music alongside a clatter of pans. That gives Hanbin space to comprehend what's just happened to him.

He had sex with Zhang Hao. Amazing, incredible sex with the man he's been obsessively in love with for the past eight years. His idol. And Zhang Hao said that he's been waiting for Hanbin, that he’s been thinking about Hanbin in the long space of those years too.

He has to pinch himself to make sure this isn't an incredibly realistic dream. When he's only left with a red mark, he rolls out of bed. They'd fallen asleep naked after their shower but Zhang Hao has thoughtfully left him a pair of his own sweatpants and underwear to change into. The sight makes him think, unbidden, of Zhang Hao last night telling him that he knew Hanbin was stealing his underwear all along.

And look where he is now. He sighs dreamily and represses the desire to do a victory lap around the bedroom.

Zhang Hao is at the stove, his back to Hanbin as he flips something over in the pan. Hanbin almost trips over his feet when he notices that Zhang Hao is clad in the shirt Hanbin wore yesterday, along with a pair of shorts which hang far too low on his hips. He takes a moment to admire the visual and prays that he'll be able to keep this.

“Hey, you,” Zhang Hao greets, tilting his head as Hanbin curves around him and bestows kisses on the exposed line of his neck. Zhang Hao is slightly less broad than him, his body lithe and willowy, so Hanbin can envelop him from behind easily. He noses into Zhang Hao's neck and Zhang Hao giggles, such a lovely sound that Hanbin almost finds himself tearing up. “Someone's touchy in the morning.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, pulling away. “Gege is just so beautiful.”

Zhang Hao pinkens, cheeks bunching up into a smile. He looks so—soft like this, with his messy hair and unguarded expression. Hanbin can't stop looking at him, even as his heart begins to ache. “No, I like it. It's nice.” He pokes at the pancakes with his spatula. “Is gamjajeon okay with you?”

“Of course.” He's equal parts touched and thrilled that Zhang Hao is preparing breakfast for him too. “Anything gege makes will be perfect.” Zhang Hao shakes his head and mutters something under his breath, the back of his neck reddening adorably. “Or I can cook, hyung. I don't want you to exert yourself.”

Zhang Hao shoots him an amused look. “I think I'll take you up on that offer later.” Later! “But I want to do this.”

“Okay,” Hanbin accepts, and kisses his cheek to see him smile again. He moves to the table so he won't give into the impulse to plaster himself to Zhang Hao's back.

“I would tell you that you don't have to be so formal with me,” Zhang Hao says thoughtfully once Hanbin is sitting down. “Because you don't. I've never really cared much about honorifics. But I like it a little too much when you call me formally.”

Hanbin had gathered as much. “I like it too, hyung. You're the only person that I act like this with.”

“Good,” Zhang Hao declares, an undertone of steel in his voice. “Keep it that way.”

Hanbin shifts in his seat, glancing down to check if these sweatpants conceal his reaction to a possessive Zhang Hao. He doubts Zhang Hao would mind if they did, anyway.

Zhang Hao plates the food up and carries it to the table with a slight limp. Hanbin simultaneously feels smug and apologetic. He reaches out for him; there's no way he's going to allow Zhang Hao to sit on the bench when he's that sore so he pulls him into his lap, lightheaded at the realisation that he fits there perfectly. Zhang Hao sighs in contentment and melts against him, pressing a kiss to Hanbin's temple.

“You're so cute when you sleep,” Zhang Hao says, out of nowhere, as Hanbin cuts up their food. “I wanted to stay and watch you until you woke up, but I got too hungry.”

“You should have woken me,” Hanbin chides, lifting one of the mini pancakes to Zhang Hao's mouth.

Zhang Hao's hand intercepts the chopsticks’ path. “You try it first, baby.”

Hanbin obeys him and takes a bite. If his hands were free then he would pinch himself again. He's eating food prepared by Zhang Hao. For him.

“It's perfect,” he says with adoration. “Thank you for cooking, hyung.”

Zhang Hao snorts. “I'm glad these turned out well. I'm usually a terrible cook.”

Hanbin swallows the instinctive I know. He feeds Zhang Hao a bite instead, quashing the urge to coo at his cheeks as he chews.

They take turns feeding each other, passing the chopsticks between them. It's comfortable, domestic. It feels like fate; everything has fallen into place so naturally that that must be the only explanation. The universe brought them together all those years ago, back when Hanbin was still a teenager and in need of a saviour, and now it's brought them together in an entirely new way. Feeding Zhang Hao in his lap is the culmination of all of his years of hard work and deserved worship. Never give up on your dreams, indeed.

When they've polished off the gamjajeon, Zhang Hao pushes the plate away from them and winds his arms around Hanbin's neck. The sunlight sneaking its way inside makes him look ethereal.

“Hanbin-ah,” he murmurs. “Sung Hanbin. My Hanbinie. I missed you so much, you know, when you stopped coming to my fansigns. I've always been curious why you did that.”

Hanbin rubs the small of his back, partly in apology and partly to help soothe the ache. “It didn't seem like a good idea. I thought you or your staff might recognise me and I would be barred. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or cause a scene.”

Zhang Hao blinks at him. “You could never make me uncomfortable. I missed talking to you there — every comeback, I hoped I would see you again.” His palm lays flat on Hanbin's cheek. “And seeing you without the mask.” He traces Hanbin’s features indulgently, thumb mapping out the slope of his nose and the bow of his mouth. “It's weird how the last time I saw your entire face was so many years ago. My brain kept trying to fill in the rest of your face, you know. I always imagined what you looked like, how your appearance would change.”

“Oh,” he says lamely, taking hold of Zhang Hao’s wrist and kissing the heel of his hand. “I'm sorry for making you wait, hyung.”

Zhang Hao shakes his head, hair bouncing with the movement. “Don't apologise. It all worked out in the end, didn't it?”

“Still,” Hanbin says regretfully, “I left you alone for all this time.”

“You didn't,” Zhang Hao denies. “You were with me all this time.” His expression shifts, eyes dropping to his mouth. “Protecting me from the shadows.”

He leans forward to kiss Hanbin with fervour. Hanbin reciprocates and opens for him, granting him the ability to map out the inside of Hanbin’s mouth too. He knows that he’ll never get tired of Zhang Hao kissing him like this, as if every cell of Hanbin needs to be intimately memorised.

A more gentle peck is bestowed on the corner of his mouth. “I used to imagine what you would be like too,” Zhang Hao murmurs. “As a person. Before I realised I already knew.”

“And what did you deduce?”

Zhang Hao draws back and watches him carefully. “Like there's nothing else you care about but me.”

“Correct,” Hanbin whispers. “Ever since you debuted, like I told you. Before then, too, though I didn't know it then.”

Zhang Hao reaches up to play with a lock of his hair. “You mean it? Only me, for all of that time?”

“Of course,” Hanbin says immediately, easily. As if there would be any other answer. He's belonged to Zhang Hao ever since he first laid eyes on him. If he has to reassure Zhang Hao of that everyday until he believes him, so be it.

Zhang Hao swallows. “I'll reward you for that dedication. I'll be perfect for you.”

Hanbin pulls him somehow closer. “You're always perfect,” he says honestly, “no matter what. You never need to worry about that with me.”

Zhang Hao kisses him for that truth. It’s only a sliver of Hanbin’s veneration for him. Hanbin decides he’ll have to make up for the years they’ve been apart. It’s simply wrong that Zhang Hao continues to be taken unawares by how much Hanbin wants him.

He attempts to discern what will change. Would Zhang Hao still be happy to have Hanbin as his fansite? Would he ask Hanbin to stop showing up to his schedules? He doesn't think Zhang Hao would want him to give up that part of himself, as integral as it is, but he can't be sure.

Zhang Hao can detect that he's distracted. “What are you thinking about?” There's a vicious edge in his voice. Anyone else probably wouldn't pick up on it, but Hanbin pays a little too much attention to him.

“You, of course,” he hurries to placate him. He squeezes Zhang Hao's waist. “I was just wondering about something.”

A brief look of worry crosses his face. “Wondering what?”

Hanbin can't think of the most delicate way to word this. “You'll still let me track you, right?” he blurts out. “Even if I can't follow you anymore?”

Zhang Hao tuts and surveys him, tugging on Hanbin’s hair in reprimand. “Who said you had to stop following me? I want you there more than ever. And you'll wake up next to me and come home with me at the end of the day. You’ll always be with me.”

Gratitude sweeps through Hanbin, a wave so powerful that his vision blurs. How did he get this lucky? He curls into Zhang Hao, tears dampening his collarbone.

“My poor Hanbinie,” he croons, nails scratching Hanbin’s scalp. “It must've been so hard without me, right?”

He holds Zhang Hao tighter, as if they can sink into each other. “Yes.”

“It was hard for both of us, I think.” Lips press against the crown of his head. “But you have me now. And I don't want you to ever let me go.”

“I won't,” he promises fiercely, lifting his head. It’s almost shocking to see the depths of his own desire reflected on Zhang Hao’s face. “You’ll never be able to get away from me. I'd follow you to the end of the world and back.”

Zhang Hao smiles, slow and satisfied. “Good. That’s the way I like it.” He delivers a peck on the tip of Hanbin's nose. “Do you want to pick out my outfit for today?”

“I'd love to,” he says lovingly. “Thank you, gege.”

“Don't thank me,” Zhang Hao says dismissively, soothing the sting with another kiss. “It's the least I can give you after everything you've done for me. I've decided that I'm going to be repaying you a lot from now on.”

Hanbin frowns in confusion. “I never wanted payment from—”

“I know,” Zhang Hao cuts in. “I know. But I want to do it, okay? Please let me.”

Hanbin only sees complete honesty in his face. “So long as gege knows he doesn't owe me anything.”

Zhang Hao's mouth splits into a smile. “Of course I do.” He sighs and kisses Hanbin's head again. “You're so sweet. My perfect Hanbinie.” Hanbin thinks his heart might explode out of his chest. Zhang Hao twists around to check the clock and adds, a sly note in his voice, “You know, my schedule starts soon…”

He hastily stands up from the table with a laughing Zhang Hao still in his arms and carries him back to the bedroom, already constructing an outfit in his mind. After a slight delay, anyway — they get a little distracted on the way there.

They end up arriving late to the Yuehua offices too but, hey, forms of payment. Hanbin can't muster up the energy to care about his timekeeping skills, not when Zhang Hao is looking beautifully radiant in the red silk shirt Hanbin dressed him up in. They say goodbye outside; no one else on the street is paying them any attention.

Hanbin plays the part; if he's honest, it's difficult to abandon his roots of solitary devotion. Zhang Hao spins back around at the top of the steps, smile still on his face. Hanbin raises his phone and grins when Zhang Hao blows a kiss right into the camera. Even through the camera lens he's practically glowing, his joy splitting him open and exposing the light within.

Hanbin studies the picture after Zhang Hao disappears inside the building, his own beam stretching wide underneath his mask. This one, he'll save just for himself.