Archive of Our Own

Hansol knows, rationally, that there must have been a time before he was in love with Seungkwan. Hell, he lived a decade and a half before meeting him, fifteen whole Seungkwan-less years, he should be able to remember a version of himself that didn’t feel like this! Still, no matter how far back he looks, all his memories are colored with the hue of this love. It’s as though Seungkwan somehow seeped into his brain and made himself part of the way Hansol processed the world from the very beginning.

He sees Seungkwan in the musical sound of the rain on his mother’s rooftop and the haze of the morning light in the studio. In things that are small and cute, things that are loud, things that are strong, things that are beautiful. Everything that he likes reminds him of the person he likes most. 

Because he does. He likes Seungkwan more than anyone. More than anything. From the moment they met something in the deepest part of his soul clicked into place and said “this is your person.”

When he is young and naive, he believes that small voice in the center of his soul. He thinks that because he can hold Seungkwan’s hand whenever he wants and press his face to Seungkwan’s back as he falls asleep that Seungkwan is his. It’s so easy to give his heart away. 

He thinks Seungkwan is bright like the sun, not realising yet that the sun is just a star and some stars have already burned out when you first see their light in the sky. In the soft glow of adolescence, burn out seems impossible. Hansol doesn’t see the danger in pouring every ounce of himself into the things and people he loves. He spends long hours in the studio, sleeping when he can, eating when they let him. As they hurtle toward debut he runs hard at the future griping tight to Seungkwan’s hand. 

His childhood is ending but it doesn’t  matter. So is Seungkwan’s. 

“Kwan-ah.” He whispers into the quiet that only happens in the early hours of the morning. 

“Mmm?” Seungkwan’s sleepy voice feels so present when he speaks the words directly into Hansol’s neck. 

“I’ll always be yours.”

That night, Seungkwan holds him tight and Hansol doesn't know to ask if he would be his in return.

Instead, he watches as Seungkwan grows more confident in public, more calculated in front of the cameras. He watches and learns that the way Seungkwan looks when he dances sends delightful shivers down his spine and that the sound of Seungkwan’s voice as it crests over high notes turns his legs to jelly. The more he looks at Seungkwan, the more things about him he finds to like, so he keeps watching. Hansol’s eyes take in Seungkwan in all his moods as his brain catalogues them lovingly.

This is how Seungkwan’s mouth twists when he knows he’ll get in trouble for what he’s about to say. This is the way Seungkwan’s chest moves when he laughs. Here are Seungkwan’s eyes right before he cries from happiness, his fingers as they fiddle with the edge of his sweater. 

The more he catalogues, the more his feelings clarify. No longer hazy with youth and the unknown, his love for Seungkwan blossoms into a great tree. The tree spreads its arms wide, blanketing Hansol with its thick canopy and he names every branch.  This part he calls protection, that part he calls endearment. When Seungkwan is working and Hansol feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest, he calls that awe.

A vine on this tree starts down at its roots and weaves its way up to the top, touching every branch along its way. It has been there since the seed of the tree first took root in his heart, but it isn’t until the vine tangles itself inextricably from the rest that Hansol is able to see it clearly.

It was, and is, desire.

This is the heat of Seungkwan’s fingers as they accidentally brush against my stomach. This is the feeling of Seungkwan’s breath as he sleeps. This is the way sweat collects in Seungkwan’s collar bone after a long dance practice. This is the shape of Seungkwan’s ass, his thighs, his back. 

And then, when they’re twenty;

This is the way Seungkwan’s body tenses when he wakes up in my arms and feels my erection pressed up against his back. This is how Seungkwan’s hands feel as they push me away. This is the sound of Seungkwan’s feet as they hit the floor and run.

In the same moment that Hansol first names this part of his love, he learns that it’s the one thing that can’t be shared. 

From then on, he builds a wall.

Carefully, Hansol takes bricks of affected apathy and stacks them high around his tender heart. He spackles over the cracks with humor to keep its dark ache locked out of sight, hidden from the sun and the stars. 

Over the years the wall becomes a part of him. It holds him just out of reach from the things that burn. He gets used to the way the wall sits rigidly in his chest, restricting the movement of his ribs, keeping his lungs from ever expanding fully. Hansol hides with a the safe buffer between himself and the world.

From behind this wall he tells Seungkwan he admires him, that he values him, that he’ll always be here for him. But he never tells him that he loves him. It’s obvious that this bothers Seungkwan, but what can he do? Holding back is part of loving him too.

Because his love contains something too heavy for anyone else to bear, he keeps it in the dark, without water or nutrients, and wills it not to grow. 

As much as he tries, desire never goes away. It stays constant, burning in his heart and under his skin.

“Sollie, I love youuuu!” Seungkwan sings in his direction, not knowing that Hansol tastes blood as he bites back the instinct to respond in kind. 

He watches Seungkwan stumble and fall and tenses his muscles to keep himself from rushing to his side. He sees Seungkwan giddy with new love and swallows the jealous bile that rises in his throat. Because desire is so woven into everything, Hansol stops acting on his love entirely. Seungkwan is too precious to be treated selfishly.

Still, he never stops looking, never stops cataloguing Seungkwan in his memories. When touching, holding, and consuming are all forbidden to him, Hansol lets himself look. 

This is the way Seungkwan’s eyes flash when he likes my joke but doesn’t want to show it. This is the curve of Seungkwan’s lip when he knows he looks pretty. God, he looks so pretty.

Sometimes, Hansol looks a little too long.

“Verononie, what’s up?” Seungkwan asks, his voice light and lilting. 

Hansol swallows and lays a new brick in his wall. “I’m just taking it in.” He murmurs.

He sort of hates the way Seungkwan frowns at him. Sort of loves it too. It’s nice to feel Seungkwan’s eyes raking over him, Seungkwan’s attention narrowing its focus. Seungkwan looks so pretty like this. His hair soft and fluffy around his face, his cheeks with their pale pink glow. 

The wall creaks.

“Taking you in.” He mutters.

This is the way Seungkwan smiles when he feels flustered.

“Sol-ah, you’re being weird tonight.” Seungkwan giggles. 

Desire surges, shaking the foundation of his carefully constructed wall. For the first time in a long time, Hansol lets Seungkwan feel like his. 

“I’m not, though.” Hansol replies, slow and steady. “It’s just that I’m normally weird.”

Seungkwan laughs heartily at that and Hansol can’t hold back his smile. After being locked away for so long, the love coursing through his veins hits like a drug. He feels giddy, high off of the way he loves Seungkwan with his whole being.

“I love you, you know.” Hansol sighs, reverent and tender. 

The air stills as Seungkwan blinks at him. “You— you haven’t said that to me in a long time.” 

“No.” Hansol admits. “But it never stopped being true.”

Concern creases Seungkwan’s pretty forehead and Hansol doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to smooth the wrinkles away. 

“Boo, don’t.” Hansol murmurs, running his fingers from Seungkwan’s forehead to his hair to the back of his neck. 

“Don’t what?” Seungkwan’s voice is playful and sweet. “Look at you? Pretty hard to do when you’re holding me like this, silly.” 

He knocks his head gently against Hansol’s arm and a thousand little fireworks go off at once.

This is how Seungkwan looks when he—? This is how fast Seungkwan’s heart beats when—? This is how Seungkwan’s tongue delicately wets his lips before he—? What?! I don’t know what he’s feeling.

Fighting against every urge in his body, Hansol lets go of him. His fists clench at his sides. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have— I mean, I have a- a commitment, a meeting. I have to—“ Hansol flails around for the right words. 

He doesn’t really need them, though, because Seungkwan steps back and lets him pull away. Hansol puts a new brick on his wall and retreats. In the quiet, Seungkwan shakes his head as Hansol turns to leave.

“It was nice to hear it.” Seungkwan calls to him as his hand touches the door knob. “That you love me, I mean. It was nice to hear you say it again.” 

Hansol leaves and doesn’t think to ask Seungkwan if he still loves him in return. 

After this, it’s harder to stay in his self imposed solitude. His heart suddenly feels too big for the cage he built around it; its thudding sends constant tremors and cracks splinter through the wall. Every time he looks at Seungkwan he sees him so clearly it almost hurts.

So Hansol holds himself stiller, retreats deeper into the dark. Stuck and rigid, he feels his muscles ache with the effort of containing his yearning heart. He forgets what his voice sounds like when it’s not choking on all the things he can’t let himself say.

However, when he’s alone, when it’s just Hansol and the music, then his lungs expand. Alone, he can speak some of his suffocating love out loud. 

In the hum of the track he hides all the things he wants but can’t ask for. Yearning to hold Seungkwan’s hand gets laced into the high hats, the pull to be near enough to breathe in Seungkwan’s scent hidden in every syncopated bass line. He mumbles melodies that sound like the way his heart cries out to be seen and loved and then saves the tracks in a folder labeled “Unfinished - Do Not Delete”.

“I’m yours, I’m still yours.” Hansol confesses to the quiet of his studio. “I wish I didn’t want you like this.”

It’s not enough, but it helps.

After a while, Seungkwan starts pushing against Hansol’s already shaky walls. He reaches for Hansol’s hand under the table and plays with the soft flesh of Hansol’s ear when he’s bored. Seungkwan smiles at Hansol not knowing that it makes his friend’s lungs forget how to take in air.

“Vernon hates when I do skinship with him.” Seungkwan complains loudly for the cameras, his playful smile hiding the undercurrent of truth in his rant, “Whenever I get within 1 meter of him, he freaks out.” 

Hansol doesn’t say anything, just focuses on breathing. And cataloguing. 

This is the way Seungkwan’s fists clench when he’s holding something back. This is the way his lip trembles when he isn’t saying exactly what he means. 

It's obvious that Seungkwan wants something from him, he’d be delusional not to see it, but what Seungkwan wants can’t be desire. Not this thing that burns hot and molten at the very core of Hansol’s being. Despite how easy it might be to open up to Seungkwan’s prodding, Hansol’s feelings are his alone. It wouldn’t be fair to burden Seungkwan with them, so he settles for frustrating him. Annoying him. Hurting him, maybe.

In moments of weakness, Hansol imagines what it would be like to be desired. Not in the abstract, parasocial way that fans desire him, but in the visceral blood and guts way he yearns for. To have someone see his tangled innards and want to bury themself inside. To have someone want to breathe the air out of his lungs, to hold the most vulnerable parts of him in their hands and squeeze.

He imagines what it would be like if that person were Seungkwan. 

Would he drag his teeth down the side of Hansol’s neck, breath ragged and halting? Would he whine into Hansol’s touch? Beg for more, faster, harder? 

Hansol imagines Seungkwan’s fingers tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck and shaves it all off.

Not that it matters. Seungkwan sees Hansol’s fuzzy head and squeals, rubbing his face against it and giggling as it prickles.

“It’s not fair,” Seungkwan whines, “you do something crazy like this and still look ridiculously handsome.” 

Hansol chokes and tries to think of anything other than how close Seungkwan’s lips are to his. Their new choreography, his schedule for the rest of the week, his grocery list. Anything.

“Sol-ah,” Seungkwan is still so close, Hansol can barely breathe through the effort of holding his heart in check. 

“Mmm?” It comes out as more of a grunt, but he decides it’s better that than a confession.

“You’re not possessive with me anymore.” Seungkwan sighs, still playing with Hansol’s hair. Still playing with his heart.

Hansol’s breath stutters. “What do you mean?” He chokes out.

“Oh, you know,” Seungkwan sounds so nonchalant it’s almost cruel, “when we were young, you used to be all over me. Clinging to me and holding my hand all the time. Scaring people off with that whole ‘seungkwan is mine’ thing.” 

“It can’t be a bad thing that I grew up, Boo.” 

Seungkwan’s hand stills, Hansol’s heart clangs.

“No, I guess not.” Seungkwan murmurs, breaking the quiet. 

Something has shifted, Hansol can feel it in his bones, but he can’t name it. Desperately, he searches his friend’s face and body language for a clue at what he’s feeling, but nothing matches his catalogue of memories. Seungkwan’s gaze is too far away, his expression too clouded, for Hansol to name it.

But he wants to know. Needs to know.

Hansol reaches out and cups Seungkwan’s face in his hand. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He mutters softly.

Seungkwan’s eyes briefly flick to Hansol’s lips before bringing them up to meet his steady gaze.

“I was wondering how it would feel if you clung to me now.” Seungkwan’s voice trembles slightly, but he doesn’t ever look away. 

“Hah,” Hansol’s mouth is too dry, his voice sounds all wrong, “I don’t think you’d like it much.”

“Mmm, wouldn’t I?” Seungkwan runs the tips of his fingers up Hansol’s arms as he considers. “You’re taller than me now, not a little string bean anymore. I think I’d feel safe, cherished, if you held onto me.” 

Hansol’s skin burns.

This is how Seungkwan’s voice lilts when he’s flirting with me. This is the feeling of his fingertips intentionally touching my skin. This is the darkness of Seungkwan’s eyes when he wants me to touch him. 

I think he wants me to touch him.

He grabs Seungkwan’s hands and pulls them off his arms. He squeezes.

“Seungkwan, do you know what you’re asking for?”

Hansol can see the definitive bob of Seungkwan’s larynx as he swallows. He doesn’t miss the way his eyes, once so sure and steady, dart away from him. 

“You don’t.” He lets go of Seungkwan’s hands and, with effort, steps away.

Seungkwan blinks, his eyes are impossibly wide. “Hansol.” He pleads. 

“Let’s drop it, please.” Hansol shrugs away Seungkwan’s outstretched hand and leaves before he can think better of it.

Hansol goes on living. Goes on holding all his impulses in check, but it gets harder. His fingers itch to reach out for Seungkwan’s hand so he fists them at his sides. He squeezes so tightly that his nails leave painful little halfmoons behind, but what other choice does he have? This desire would consume him if he let it breathe for even a moment. 

As time passes he learns that it’s hard to stay away from Seungkwan when he’s happy and flirtatious. Seungkwan’s eyes bat in his direction and his foolish heart thunders away despite his brain’s efforts to control it.

This is how Seungkwan teases when drunk and looking to get a rise out of me. This is how he touches me in front of the cameras. In front of the fans. 

Then he learns that it’s nearly impossible to hold back from Seungkwan when he’s broken. The sight of Seungkwan’s crumpled face hits his chest like a punch. He sees tears gather in Seungkwan’s eyes and every cell in Hansol’s body aches to wipe them away. To keep them from ever falling again. 

Still, he tries. When Seungkwan sobs on his shoulder in disappointment or frustration, Hansol comforts him stiffly. He’s never been good at finding the words people need to hear when they’re upset, so in these moments he offers Seungkwan something warm and solid. Often, Seungkwan takes it. He wraps his arms around Hansol and buries his face in his neck, trembling as he lets out his hurt little by little. Hansol lets Seungkwan cling to him and forces himself not to clutch him back.

“I’ve got you.” Hansol says when he means I love you.

Seungkwan replies with “I love you.” when what he means is thanks.

Hansol goes to bed still feeling the warmth of Seungkwan’s touch. In the dark, despite his better judgement, he selfishly imagines his friend coming to him for something more than comfort. It’s almost too easy; he’s looked at Seungkwan for so long that he can recreate every inch of him here in his mind. Alone, he remembers the soft pressure of Seungkwan’s hands and infuses the memory with a need that certainly wasn’t there. Every second of the indulgence floods his body with guilt, but he can’t stop his desperate heart from picturing it. 

“Seungkwan-ah.” Hansol lets himself breathe his friend’s name the way he’s dreamed of, desire dripping from every syllable.

It rips at his chest, but his body reacts anyway.

The Seungkwan in his mind presses close, teases his teeth against Hansol’s ear. He breathes hot and heavy against Hansol’s skin, whining as Hansol clutches at him, pulls him closer.

I want you, Hansol-ah.

Hansol grits his teeth as his fantasy consumes him. 

Touch me, touch me, touch me.

Tears gather in Hansol’s eyes, but he’s too far gone to stop now. He wills himself to feel the weight of Seungkwan in his pillow as he desperately ruts against it. Against him.

Sol-ah, god, you’re so good, honey. 

“Fuck, Boo.” Hansol’s voice cracks. 

Give it to me, please Hansol, I need you. I want you so bad.

It’s all too much, the Seungkwan in his mind egging him on and the hot need churning and roiling in his gut. With Seungkwan’s name trembling on his lip, Hansol’s resolve breaks and he lets go. 

For a moment or two, Hansol stays suspended in his fantasy. He feels the weight of Seungkwan on his chest, the warmth of Seungkwan’s breath as he murmurs sweet affirmations. Thank you, you did so well, I love you. But it doesn’t last, it never does. 

Once his breath settles and his cum dries sticky in his boxers, Hansol comes back to reality. Suddenly the pillow is just a pillow and his arms feel so empty. Something deep in Hansol’s heavily fortified chest cracks open and he sobs.

“Fuck! I’m sorry.” Hansol moans into his sheets. “I’m sorry, Boo, I’m so sorry.”

Hansol tries sleeping around, but other people don’t hold his interest. Sure, they take up space in his day and his bed, they fill some of the lonely gaps in his heart, but it’s not the same. When he looks at these people he just sees them, he doesn’t hold on to their image. There’s no need to catalogue their every behavior when his library is full enough already.

He tries, he really tries, but every fling ends the same way.

“You’re always looking somewhere else, at someone else. I hope you figure it out one day.”

He lets them all leave pretending he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. 

Everytime Hansol gets dumped, Seungkwan clucks his tongue and shakes his head. He screws up his face in an exaggerated scowl and puts on a show of defense for his best friend.

“This one’s a total idiot if they can’t see what a catch you are, Hansollie!” Seungkwan bemoans, draping himself over Hansol’s back.

Hansol lets himself enjoy the press of Seungkwan’s chest against his back for exactly 1.16 seconds.

“Hmm, I think they might have been right though.” Hansol murmurs, shaking off his friend’s embrace. 

“Did they break up with you for being too handsome?” Seungkwan teases.

This is the way Seungkwan tweaks my chin when he wants to give advice.

“Nah, it was the same thing it always is.” Hansol tries to hide his delight at the nearness of Seungkwan with a disaffected grumble.

Seungkwan’s eyes soften, his hand stays on Hansol’s jaw. “I guess I get that.”

Traitor.

Hansol grins. “I thought you were on my side, Boo.”

This is how Seungkwan blushes. First from his cheeks, then his neck, then his ears. He turns pinkest when he’s telling the truth.

“I am!” Seungkwan stammers, “I just know what it’s like to want more attention from you. That’s all.”

Seeing the way Seungkwan’s eyes widen, it’s obvious he means it. The thought makes Hansol almost want to laugh or maybe throw up. As if his attention weren’t finely tuned to everything Seungkwan does, as if his thoughts weren’t constantly consumed with how Seungkwan is feeling, or what he’s thinking, or what might make him happy. If Seungkwan knew how much of Hansol’s attention he already had, he wouldn’t want more.

“I don’t think I can pay more attention to you, Seungkwan.” Hansol carefully controls the pitch and rhythm of his voice. There’s too much truth in his words to risk a sloppy delivery.

A strangled sound comes from Seungkwan’s throat as he backs away quickly. 

“Right, of course.” Seungkwan stumbles over his words and his feet. “Sorry, Sol-ah, I’ll just —“

Once Seungkwan is gone, Hansol collapses. There’s no energy left in his legs for standing when all his muscles strain to keep his heart in his chest. With his back pressed against the cold walls of the studio, he dutifully catalogues.

This is the sound of Seungkwan running away from me. Again.

Hansol’s not quite asleep when his phone lights up the room, vibrating in the pattern set for one specific contact.

Short. Short. Short. Long. Long. Long. Short. Short. Short. 

He answers before the pattern has a chance to repeat.

“Hey,” Hansol can’t keep the anxiety out of his voice, “What’s going on? Where are you?” 

A too long pause. The sound of Seungkwan’s breath. Then, finally.

“Hansollie!” 

This is how my name sounds on his lips when he’s drunk.

“Seungkwan, it’s 4am.” Hansol speaks slowly, deliberately.

Through the phone he hears his friend’s breathy giggle.

“Is it?” Seungkwan slurs. “I’m not sleepy though?”

“That’s because you’ve fucked up your sleep schedule beyond repair, dummy.” Hansol relaxes against his pillows and puts his phone on speaker. “Where are you?” He asks again.

“Mmm, Hansol-ah, I’m drunk.” 

Hansol laughs, “yeah, Boo, I kinda figured that out myself.” 

A small whine crackles over the phone and rings loudly in Hansol’s room. 

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to tell.” Seungkwan’s voice is low, dangerous.

It’s easy for Hansol to picture him, how pink his cheeks must be, how his soft lips might be resting in a slight pout. Tipsy Seungkwan is soft and liquid. He bends his body to the shape of the people near him, wrapping himself around their curves and pulling their warmth to him. When Seungkwan’s had a drink or two he reaches and reaches and reaches.

“I can always tell with you.” Hansol admits. 

“That’s dumb.” Seungkwan mumbles. 

Hansol sighs, “Alright, Seungkwan, if you say so, I’m dumb. Now, why did you call me?”

In the silence, an ambulance’s siren wails. First through his window, and then, just moments after, through the phone.

“Wait, Kwan, are you at my house?” 

Seungkwan sniffs. “I missed you and then, I don’t know, somehow I ended up here.”

“What are you doing waiting out in the cold? Come up.” Hansol offers his warmth without thinking. 

“I, uh,” Seungkwan hesitates, “I don’t know your door code.” 

Hansol blinks, can his walls be so high that Seungkwan doesn’t even know this? 

“It’s what it’s always been,” Hansol takes a breath, “0116.”

“0116” Seungkwan mutters, punching the numbers into the keypad. Through the phone, Hansol hears Seungkwan gasp as the building’s door opens.

“Hansol, that’s my—“

“Yeah.” Hansol cuts him off. “It is.” 

Seungkwan hangs up the call. 

Factoring in the time it usually takes him to get from the front door to his second floor flat and how quickly Seungkwan walks when he’s tipsy, Hansol figures he has about 45 seconds to lock down his heart before Seungkwan gets to his apartment. He rubs his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then his apartment door swings open.

Hansol jumps up as Seungkwan stumbles into his apartment. He’s almost exactly as Hansol pictured him; pink, hazy, and slightly disheveled. His coat is hanging off one shoulder, but as the door swings shut behind him he lets it fall to the floor. 

“I missed you.” Seungkwan’s voice is shaky. “Why did I miss you?” 

Hansol walks over and gently picks up Seungkwan’s coat. To give himself more time, he turns away to drape it over the back of a chair before responding. When he finally turns back around, tears threaten to spill from his friend’s eyes. He’s never seen Seungkwan look so small and fragile.

“I don’t know, Boo.” Hansol tries to keep his voice light, “You see me all the time, what’s to miss?” 

Seungkwan bites his lip. He blinks slowly. “H’nsol, I think I’m sleepy now.” He murmurs.

“Okay,” Hansol holds out his arms, “come here.” 

When Seungkwan stumbles into his arms, Hansol holds him steady. He rubs Seungkwan’s back and lets Seungkwan melt sleepily into his embrace. It’s warm. Heavy. Real.  As he walks them both over to the bed, Seungkwan turns his head and brushes his lips against Hansol’s neck.

“My Hansol,” Seungkwan whispers, “Mine.” 

Locking his desire deep in the dungeons of his heart, Hansol tucks Seungkwan under the covers of his bed and falls asleep on the couch. 

Hansol wakes up to the sound of pots clanging and the smoke alarm going off.

“Ah!” Seungkwan’s voice squeals from the kitchen. “Be quiet, you! Hansollie is still sleeping! Shhhh! SHHHH!” 

Seungkwan in his apartment in the morning is new. Hansol takes a moment to lock the sounds in his memories. It’s like looking through a funhouse mirror, the sounds both familiar and distorted.

Seungkwan hums while he’s cooking now that he’s an adult. This is how his voice floats through my kitchen while he makes a mess of it. This is what he hums when he’s cooking for me. For us. 

A wave of desire crashes over Hansol with such strength that he can’t think of anything else. His insides crack and shift to make room for the surge, within seconds, he’s flooded with it.

Clumsily, Hansol makes his way to the kitchen. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he takes in the one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen. Seungkwan’s hair is messy, sticking in all directions. He’s traded his tight trousers and button up from the night before for one of Hansol’s band tee shirts and a pair of slightly too big sweats.  Maybe Seungkwan scrummaged through Hansol’s dresser for something cozy during the night. The thought makes Hansol smile.

For a moment he just watches as Seungkwan flits around the small kitchen on the balls of his feet, mumbling an easy pop tune as he thoroughly burns whatever is cooking on the stove. He’s content to just watch, but then Seungkwan reaches for something on a higher shelf, exposing a sliver of his soft midsection, and Hansol’s desire makes itself known again.

“Seungkwan-ah.” Hansol croaks, “what are you doing?” 

Seungkwan spins around in surprise at his voice. He blushes, then smiles.

“Making you an I’m-sorry-breakfast?” Seungkwan holds out a plate of very burnt toast.

This is how seungkwan looks in my clothes, in my kitchen. He slept in my bed and this is how he smiles at me after.

Desire moves Hansol across the room and wraps his arms around Seungkwan from behind. He breathes him in. After so long locking his heart away and pushing desire aside, every cell in Hansol’s body cries out in relief. 

This is how Seungkwan smells in the crook of his neck. This is the speed of Seungkwan’s pulse against my lips. 

Hansol pulls him in tighter. “You don’t have to do that.” He murmurs into Seungkwan’s skin.

Seungkwan reaches back to ruffle Hansol’s short hair. “I want to.” He says simply. 

Hansol’s heart gallops. Seungkwan fits so perfectly in his arms, just like he always has. They sway slightly, cooking entirely forgotten. Then—

<<Alert! Fire!>>

The smoke detector starts wailing again, so Hansol reluctantly detangles himself from Seungkwan and begins fanning out the room. Seungkwan doesn’t really respond to it though, he just stares at Hansol with an utterly unreadable expression.

Hansol notices once the alarm stops its blaring. He crooks an eyebrow at his friend. 

“All good over there, Boo?” He teases.

Seungkwan blinks then shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I am.” He breathes.

Seeing the fear and uncertainty in Seungkwan’s eyes, Hansol remembers why he locked up his heart in the first place.

“Ah, Kwan-ah, I’m sorry, I—“

“Hansol.” Seungkwan takes a deliberate step toward him. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

Hansol blinks. Why is he apologizing? For his desire? For wanting Seungkwan? For almost acting on it, or for not acting on it sooner? He doesn’t know anymore. 

A fierce light shines in Seungkwan’s eyes as he takes another step toward Hansol. He’s still too far away to touch, but as Seungkwan’s eyes drop to his lips, Hansol can feel the intention radiating off him. 

“I’m sorry I feel this way.” Hansol grits out.

Seungkwan smiles at him. It’s a little sad, a little sweet. He crosses the final distance to Hansol but doesn’t touch him, just puts himself in Hansol’s space and leans to whisper in his ear.

“What way, Hansol?” Seungkwan’s whisper sends shivers down Hansol’s spine. 

Hansol squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember how to breathe. “Please, Boo, you know. You have to know.”

He startles as Seungkwan’s fingers brush against his skin. First, lightly on the back of his hand. Then, moving up his arm, across his shoulders and chest. His touches are tantalizingly soft, featherlight and almost hesitant. 

“I think I do,” Seungkwan murmurs, dragging his nails along Hansol’s neck. “But what if I’m wrong? Hansol, I can’t read your mind any more than you can read mine. I need you to say it. Tell me, Hansol, please.” 

After years of holding steady, Hansol’s wall finally cracks and crumbles away. In the rubble, he takes his vine of desire and gently holds it to the light.

“I love you, but I—“ Hansol pauses to pull Seungkwan to him, holding him firmly so that their bodies press flush against each other. He leans down and rests his forehead against Seungkwan’s. “I also want you. Like this.” He whispers.

A small moan falls from Seungkwan’s lips. “God, Hansol, I never thought I’d hear you say it.”

He’s gripping Hansol tightly, pressing back the way he does in Hansol’s fantasies. In Hansol’s arms, Seungkwan is so warm, so solid, so real. The pressure feels like desire, Hansol burns with it.

“Seungkwan, I don’t— what do you—?” Hansol’s voice breaks as he struggles to find the words. Seungkwan stops his rambling by leaning in slightly and rubbing their noses together.

“I want you too, silly.” Seungkwan whispers, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Why else would I show up at your place in the middle of the night?” 

Hansol swallows and tightens his hold on Seungkwan’s waist. “Seungkwan, the way I feel about you is the most real thing in my life, if you don’t mean it –”

With Seungkwan’s lips on his, Hansol shuts up. 

Kissing Seungkwan is easy, definitely easier than not kissing him had been. Their lips slot together instinctually, parting just enough to exchange gasps and a bit of spit. Hansol’s heart pounds dangerously loud, but with Seungkwan’s thudding just as monstrously, he doesn’t find himself caring that much. He licks into Seungkwan’s mouth and drinks in the breathless moans that come spilling out. 

“Sol-ah,” Seungkwan gasps, arching away to allow Hansol’s lips to travel down his pretty neck. “Oh god, I was starting to think you’d never actually touch me like this.”

Hansol groans into the crook of Seungkwan’s neck. “I always wanted to, Boo.” He murmurs reverently. Small goosebumps pop up on Seungkwan’s neck as Hansol’s breath hits his skin, Hansol’s throat constricts at the sight. “I just couldn’t risk losing you over it.”

Seungkwan pulls back and takes Hansol’s face in his hands. His lip trembles as he gazes at Hansol fondly. “You could never lose me.” he mutters. “Not for anything, but definitely not because of this. Want me as much as you want, as much as you can, Hansol-ah, it won’t scare me away.”

When Hansol kisses Seungkwan again it’s not as easy. Not when they’re both desperately clutching at each other, taking in as much as they can with their hands and tongues and teeth. Seungkwan tugs on Hansol’s lower lip with an urgency that goes straight through Hansol’s bloodstream. He grinds against Hansol’s erection with a need that is unmistakable. 

“Baby,” Hansol whispers, delighting in the shudder that goes through Seungkwan as he does. “Can I touch you?”

Seungkwan’s eyes go wide. “You want to?” he asks softly, earnestly. 

“Yeah, Boo,” Hansol murmurs, running his fingers through Seungkwan’s hair. “I’ve kinda been dreaming of touching you.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan closes his eyes and leans into Hansol’s touch. “I thought you might just–”

“If you want to touch me too, you can, but that’s not really my goal here.” Hansol lets his lips ghost teasingly against Seungkwan’s ear as he whispers. “Seungkwan, do you want me to touch you?”

In response, Seungkwan lets out a desperate whine and nods his head vigorously.

“Please.” He moans.

Hansol chuckles and tugs on his hands. “Let’s get out of my fucking kitchen then, yeah?” 

Seungkwan blinks his eyes open and looks around, horrified. “Oh my god, I definitely was gonna let you blow me right here, next to your fridge and stove and everything.  What the fuck, that feels so slutty!” 

Hansol smiles and plants a soft kiss on the tip of Seungkwan’s nose. “Maybe you are a little slutty?” Seungkwan scoffs so Hansol gathers him in his arms again. “Or maybe you’re just a little slutty for me.” He whispers.

Seungkwan melts in Hansol’s embrace. “Mmm, I think I am.” He says between giggles and kisses. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”

“Anything?” Hansol cocks an eyebrow, challenging. 

“Anything.” Seungkwan confirms with a kiss.

This is the way Seungkwan’s eyes sparkle after I kiss him.

Dreams and reality crash together as Hansol gently pulls Seungkwan back toward his bedroom. Every step is slow and tender. With Seungkwan clinging to him and pressing his lips to his neck, back, and shoulders, Hansol’s little hallway has never felt so warm and expansive. 

As they cross into Hansol’s room, the energy shifts. Hansol feels the electricity crackle between them, burning with the heat of Seungkwan's heavy gaze. When Seungkwan’s hand trembles in his grasp, Hansol brings it to his lips.

“It’s just me, Boo.” Hansol murmurs against Seungkwan’s knuckles.

Seungkwan knocks his forehead against Hansol playfully but his eyes never lose their earnest fire. 

“Can’t you see I’m like this because it’s you?” Seungkwan’s voice cracks. “Hansol, I’ve never wanted someone like this. It’s like I can’t get close enough to you, like I won’t feel satisfied until I’m buried underneath your skin, feeling your blood pound in my veins.”

“Seungkwan, I—“

“I’ve been drowning.” Seungkwan’s eyes shine with sincerity. “Barely hanging on, never really getting my head above water. I knew it was killing me, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. All I could do was tread water and hope the tides would let up.” He takes Hansol’s face in his hands.  “Kissing you is like coming up for air, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in years.”

Seungkwan’s hands are still trembling, so Hansol places his overtop of them. 

“How’s your breathing now?” Hansol asks. 

“Could be better.” Seungkwan murmurs, leaning in. 

Hansol grins broadly. “You look really cute when you want me to kiss you.” he mutters softly before closing the distance and giving Seungkwan what he wants. 

Seungkwan groans into the kiss. “You’re so, ah, annoying.” he gasps. 

“You like it though, don’t you, Seungkwan-ah?” Hansol murmurs, letting his hands roam. He memorizes the feeling of Seungkwan’s muscles tensing under his touch. The way his back arches and his hips buck forward. The way his cock rubs against Hansol’s thigh.

“Hansol, please.” Seungkwan pleads. “I need to feel you, please.”

Blood pounds in Hansol’s ears. Seungkwan shivers under his touch, calls out for him to touch him, wants him, and Hansol freezes. He tries to ground himself in the moment, but it’s too much. It’s too much like a fantasy to be real. Fear clutches at his heart and he feels 500 miles away. 

Seungkwan’s breath against his ear brings him back. “Hey, what’s wrong, baby?” he murmurs, soft and sweet. 

Hansol shivers and grabs Seungkwan’s chin, turning his head to face him. “I want to make you feel good. Can I–? Seungkwan, will you let me?”

At his words, Seungkwan blinks slowly. He licks his lips and then takes one of Hansol’s hands and guides it toward his crotch. “Touch me.” he purrs, rolling his hips against Hansol’s hand. “I want you to touch me, Hansol.”

Seungkwan is hot and hard under his hand. Hansol rubs at Seungkwan’s cock over his sweats a few times experimentally before slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging the material away. His mouth waters as Seungkwan’s pretty, pink cock slaps up against his stomach. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Hansol groans, “I wanna taste you.” 

Seungkwan squirms a little as he flushes. “You can.” he whispers. “I want you to.”

That’s all Hansol needs to hear. Almost immediately, he drops to his knees. His hands slide up Seungkwan’s thighs, squeezing at his soft flesh. Seungkwan’s skin flushes red where Hansol touches it; Hansol soothes it with his lips. He presses reverent kisses to Seungkwan’s thighs and hips, to the soft curve of his tummy, to the base of his cock.

“You’re such a tease.” Seungkwan moans, his fingers clutching at Hansol’s shoulders. 

Hansol grins and licks Seungkwan’s cock from base to tip pulling a delicious shudder from his friend. Looking up through his long lashes, he takes the tip into his mouth and suckles for a moment before pulling off with a slow pop.

“I’m just savoring you.” Hansol murmurs.

“Well savor, hnng, faster!” Seungkwan’s hips buck forward, pushing his cock eagerly against Hansol’s lips. 

Hansol takes Seungkwan in his mouth and slowly sinks down until he’s taken everything he has to give. He lets Seungkwan set the pace and allows himself to float in this feeling. Giving head has never been more fun.

This is how Seungkwan feels in my mouth. This is how hard his cock hits the back of my throat when he’s desperate. This is the taste of Seungkwan’s arousal, the sound of his need. 

Seungkwan’s voice is a symphony. Concurrent melodies made of Hansol’s name, breathless moans, and sweet gasps fill Hansol’s ears. Fill his heart. Fill out his cock too.

“Hansol, ah, fuck, Hansol don’t stop!” 

Hansol relaxes his jaw and empties himself of everything that isn’t the sensation of Seungkwan thrusting desperately into his mouth. Seungkwan’s hands clutch for purchase and Hansol briefly regrets shaving all his hair off. It would be nice to feel Seungkwan pull him where he needs him. To feel the sharp pain that proves that Seungkwan wants him. Next time, maybe. For now, this is enough; the sound of Seungkwan’s moans getting higher as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. All too soon, he’s crying out Hansol’s name and spilling down his throat.

The taste is slightly salty and somewhat sweet, fitting. Hansol holds Seungkwan’s cock in his mouth, savoring the way he trembles in sensitivity. After a somewhat enthusiastic lick sends Seungkwan reeling, Hansol reluctantly pulls off and looks up to see his friend gazing down at him in wonder.

“Hansol.” Seungkwan breathes. “Why the fuck didn’t we do that sooner?”

“Hmm, I don’t know” Hansol grins as he shuffles to his feet. “Maybe because I was too into you to think straight.”

Seungkwan’s eyes sparkle. “I would hope you’re not thinking straight when it comes to me.” he giggles.

“Shut up.” Hansol mutters before pressing their lips together again. 

Seungkwan giggles through the kiss, which Hansol immediately files under “Endearing Seungkwanisms”. That folder is getting pretty full though, he wonders if maybe he should sub-categorize; organize his cataloged memories into a “Endearing Seungkwanisms_when we’re kissing” pile and “Endearing Seungkwanisms_every other time” pile. 

“Hansol.” Seungkwan’s voice and breath in his ear pull him back to the present moment. 

“Mmm?” Hansol nuzzles against Seungkwan’s neck in response.

“This might sound stupid, so promise you won’t make fun of me.”

Hansol blinks and nods his head affirmatively, Seungkwan takes a breath.

“Would you hold me?” Seungkwan asks hesitantly. “Like you used to when we were kids, when we would have sleep overs? I’ve missed feeling you curl up around me.”

“Did I tire you out already?” Hansol teases, easing them both toward his bed.

Seungkwan flushes. “No!” he insists. “I could keep going all day! I just–”

Hansol takes pity on him and practically tackles him onto the bed. Seungkwan squeaks a little at the sudden impact, but easily relaxes in his arms. Hansol lets himself melt into the rhythm of Seungkwan’s heartbeat.

“I’ve missed holding you in my arms too.” Hansol whispers, squeezing Seungkwan a little tighter. 

Seungkwan sighs and leans further into Hansol’s touch. Something tugs at Hansol’s heart.

“Yesterday, you said I was yours.” Hansol’s voice cracks as he struggles to get the words right. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” Seungkwan’s words are clear, his voice is sure. 

Hansol takes a breath and asks the question he’s been too afraid to know the answer of. “Aren’t you mine, too?” 

It’s silent for a moment, Hansol hears Seungkwan’s breath hitch.

“Of course I am.” Seungkwan whispers into the quiet. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Hansol’s throat constricts. He kisses the side of Seungkwan’s neck. “Mine.” he murmurs, his arms gripping Seungkwan impossibly tight. “I knew you were mine.”

Seungkwan gasps and arches back into Hansol’s embrace. Their bodies press together with tender neediness, breaths and heartbeats synching as they get closer and closer. Without thinking, Hansol ruts his hips forward so that his clothed cock rubs against the soft cushion of Seungkwan’s ass. Feeling his arousal, Seungkwan grinds back with urgency. 

“You’re this hard because you like me.” Seungkwan groans. “Thats so fucking hot.”

Hansol presses his forehead into Seungkwan’s neck as his hips pick up their rhythm. “I’m this hard because I love you.” he grunts. “Because I’ve wanted to touch you like this for as long as I can remember and somehow, it’s still better than I imagined.”

Seungkwan shivers and a moan that sounds like Hansol’s name falls from his lips. Glancing down, Hansol sees that Seungkwan’s cock is fully hard and leaking again. Holding Seungkwan in place with one arm, Hansol snakes the other down to take Seungkwan’s cock in his hand and stroke it in time with his thrusts between his cheeks.

“Sol-ah” Seungkwan whimpers. “You don’t have to— fuck, I mean, I already—“

“I want to.” Hansol mutters, not letting up. “You sound so pretty when I touch you, it’s like you’re singing. Let me hear you, please.”

“Hnng, it’s not fair!” Seungkwan whines, shuddering under Hansol’s touch. “I’m practically naked and you still have your pajamas on! I want to feel you too, c’mon Hansollie. Let me feel how much you want me, please.” 

“You want that?” Hansol chokes. “You want my cock? You want to feel how hard I am for you? How desperate I am to feel you around me, to fill you completely?”

Seungkwan nods his head and shudders in response. “Hansol-ah, please.” He cries.

Hansol pinches Seungwak’s nipple and digs his teeth into his neck. “I want to give it to you, I do. Fuck, Seungkwan, I want to so badly, but baby, I can’t bear to let go of you for even a second right now.” he groans, speeding up his hand as he works Seungkwan into a writhing mess. 

“Honey,” Seungkwan calls to him, sweet and mournful. “God, baby, no one has ever touched me like this.” he grinds pathetically back against Hansol’s bulge and tears gather in his eyes. “I want you, I need you. I’m yours, I’m only yours. Fuck, Hansol, show me that I’m yours.”

He throws his head back in ecstasy and Hansol watches in awe. Seungkwan’s flush highlights every beautiful part of his body, all the places Hansol has admired from afar for years. His cheeks, his neck, his chest, his strong thighs. As Seungkwan falls apart in Hansol’s hands, he’s the prettiest thing Hansol has ever seen.

“Will you cum for me?” Hansol asks softly. “Please?”

Seungkwan gasps and his body tenses as streams of hot cum splatter against the bed, his chest, and Hansol’s hand. “Ah, ah, ah, Hansol!” He cries, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

“That’s it, Boo.” Hansol murmurs. “God, you’re so beautiful. I could spend lifetimes just watching you cum.” 

Seungkwan chuckles weakly. “You’re such a perv, I had no idea.” He moans, still trembling in the aftershocks of his second orgasm.

Hansol nips at his ear playfully. “Only for you.” He whispers reverently.

Wriggling in his arms, Seungkwan shifts until they’re face to face. Sweat glistens on his forehead, matting the hair on his brow. The flush on his cheeks deepens as he gazes at Hansol with shining eyes.

“Now you.” Seungkwan mumbles shyly. “Let’s get you off too.” 

Heat pulses in Hansol’s veins, Seungkwan’s hands are on his shoulders, his arms, his hips. He shudders as Seungkwan’s fingers slip below the waistband of his sweats and boxers. It’s too much, he squeezes his eyes shut. Electricity sparks all over his brain, but he can’t quite follow the source; he just wants and wants and wants.

“Sol-ah, look at me.” Seungkwan’s voice is soft. “I don’t have to touch you if you don’t want me to.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Hansol mutters, blinking his eyes open. “I want you to touch me, Boo, but right now it’s just, kinda a lot all at once.” 

Seungkwan smiles and nuzzles their noses together. “That’s okay, I get it, this is a lot for me too. Maybe you could get yourself off and I could, uh, watch?” 

A surge of desire jolts through Hansol’s system. “Oh fuck, yeah. I mean, that would be—“ he trails off as his gaze lowers and rests on Seungkwan’s chest, still hot and slick with his own cum. “Seungkwan-ah.” He breathes. “Can I —?”

“Mmm, yes.” Seungkwan murmurs. “Whatever it is, you can — oh.” 

A strangled moan comes from Seungkwan’s throat as Hansol reaches to scoop the cum off his chest. He holds Seungkwan’s heated gaze as he uses that same hand to reach into his pants and desperately fist his hard cock. It’s just slick enough for Hansol to lose his mind.

“Fuck, Boo, I’m not gonna last long.” Hansol grunts, thrusting messily into his fist.

“That’s okay, baby.” Seungkwan’s voice comes out in a whine. “Let me have it, give it to me.”

Desire churns, thick and hazy, through Hansol’s senses. He floats in it, drowns in it, suffocates in it.

“Kwan.” He gasps. “Tell me you want me.”

Seungkwan leans in, his breath ghosting against Hansol’s ear. “Hansol, I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad. I want you to hold me and never stop, I want to feel you everywhere.” 

Hansol groans and speeds up his hand. His pre-cum mixes with Seungkwan’s release and the slide is slick and fast. His gut tightens. 

“Seungkwan,” Hansol pleads. “C’mere.”

It doesn’t take long once Seungkwan is in his arms. He feels high on the scent that is uniquely Seungkwan and ruts forward, letting the head of his cock brush the soft skin of Seungkwan's tummy. His orgasm hits him hard and fast; he almost blacks out with the force of it, his cum adding to the mess of sweat and sex between them.

“My Hansol.” Seungkwan murmurs sweetly. “My baby, you’re so good.”

Static buzzes in Hansol’s brain. In the dreamy fog of orgasm he reminds himself that this weight on his chest is real, this heat in his arms is lingering. The feeling of Seungkwan loving him won’t melt away this time.

“I love you.” Hansol whispers once he regains his breath. “I love you so much, Seungkwan.” 

Seungkwan’s gaze is soft, his fingers tender as they tease lightly against Hansol’s scalp. Hansol logs the moment.

This is the way Seungkwan smiles after I tell him that I love him. I want to see him smile like this again and again.

“I know.” Seungkwan whispers. “I love you, too. I love you more every second that I see you. The more I know about you, the more I feel you. Hansol, I don’t know where the limits are, it scares me.”

“That’s okay.” Hansol murmurs, leaning close. “Love me as much as you want, as much as you can, I won’t run away.”

“Hmm, that sounds familiar.” Seungkwan giggles, resting his forehead against Hansol’s.

Hansol smirks. “Yeah, somebody smart and hot said it to me once.” 

“You’re so annoying.” Seungkwan teases, smiling broadly.

The light glows warm through Hansol’s bedroom window as morning gives way to afternoon. Time passes, but neither of them care very much. Seungkwan is warm in Hansol’s arms and Hansol takes an easy breath; that old tree in his heart has grown tall enough for both of them to sit under its branches. 

He is Seungkwan’s and Seungkwan is his.