Archive of Our Own

They meet again at the start of autumn, when the leaves are turning amber in the trees along the sidewalk.

Baekhyun’s clothing brand had its second anniversary in the spring. Delight, he’d called it, and against all expectations, it was a success. It got good reviews and sales, prompted in part by his already established name in fashion as a model, as well as generous long-time friends with a bigger footing in the industry who promoted his brand on social media.

On that cold day of autumn he’s supposed to put together a photoshoot for Nylon, the brand’s first photoshoot with a renowned magazine. His stress is heightened by the caffeine currently running through his bloodstream and the fact that his photographer had cancelled at the last minute. Baekhyun is on the brink of a breakdown.

“We can call someone else,” Nayeon, his personal assistant, suggests. It’s more of an order than a suggestion coming from her, really. Nayeon is exceptional at her job and even more so at keeping Baekhyun together in moments like these. It’s why Baekhyun adores her. “Think of someone good and available. Quick.”

“Isn’t that your job?” a cranky Baekhyun fires back. He accompanies it with a saccharine smile to take the edge off his words. Nayeon does not look impressed. “Okay, let me think of someone…”

“Didn’t Taemin’s brother land a photoshoot at High Cut last month?” Jongin chimes in. The stylist touching up his makeup glares at the straw Jongin brings to his lips. She’s ignored. “It was pretty impressive for a guy who just graduated from college last year.”

“Are you boning him?” Jennie mumbles. She looks two seconds from falling asleep in that folding chair. Early schedules are always difficult for them both. Jongin mostly gets by on drinking lots of iced americanos while Jennie tries to stay off caffeinated drinks. She comes alive in front of the camera without any stimulants anyhow.

They had accepted the photoshoot more as a favor to Baekhyun than anything else; the brand is not big enough yet to bag supermodels like them. He’s been friends with Jongin since the days of catalogue modeling, and Jennie is a longtime friend of Jongin’s who couldn’t turn him down.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Okay, his portfolio looks pretty good.” Nayeon gives Baekhyun her iPad. The pictures on Taeyong’s instagram are artistic and elegant, some vibrant with color and others more understated. Joy, an exclusive Vogue model, appears in several of the pictures, her beauty is depicted in a mysterious, almost vulnerable light, and at times, dreamy. Most importantly, it fits right in with the modern fairy-tale concept Baekhyun envisioned for this particular photoshoot.

Baekhyun interrupts Jongin and Jennie’s banter. “You got his number? We can pray he’s in the city right now.”

Taemin’s little brother accepts over the line in an impressively short amount of time. Baekhyun’s relief is almost physical; he would collapse if the team wasn’t counting on him to be on his feet and functioning.

Taeyong shows up forty minutes later clad in a black Supreme bucket hat and a Valentino jacket. Baekhyun already trusts him. The man standing before him is not the seventeen-year-old who was skittish around him and his older brother’s friends; last they met Taeyong was fresh out of high school and Baekhyun had recently graduated from online shop catalogues to magazines. It doesn’t take long for Baekhyun to garner that, past the striking blue of his hair, the several piercings on both his ears, Taeyong is still the same shy kid who struggles to hold eye contact with strangers.

Baekhyun wants to crumble to his knees and thank him for coming. But he manages to clasp Taeyong’s hand in both of his with exaggerated gratefulness that earns a giggle from him. The boy is also very cute.

“I owe you dinner,” Baekhyun tells him as Nayeon is ushering Taeyong towards the set. “A thousand dinners!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he hears Taeyong joke. Nayeon ushers him away to instruct him where to put his equipment and give him the rundown of the concept for this photoshoot.

There is nothing cute or timid about Taeyong behind the lens. He is a professional through and through, commanding and instinctive, sticking to the original idea but managing to etch his personal style into the pictures.

Hours later Baekhyun has succumbed to exhaustion in a folding chair. Taeyong sidles up to him in an unassuming way, a stark contrast to his persona at work.

“Thank you for coming today,” Baekhyun slurs, squinting up at Taeyong. “You’re such a nice boy.”

“It was nothing.” Taeyong scratches his nape. It’s a habit that dates back years in Baekhyun’s memory. “I wanted to thank you for this opportunity actually.”

Baekhyun waves him off. “You’re the one who saved us. You literally stopped me from having a nervous breakdown and saved everyone here from witnessing it.”

Taeyong laughs and his earrings glint under the set lights. A safety pin is secured to his left earlobe and a cross dangles from a cartilage piercing. Baekhyun tries to blink himself awake.

“Well, it was nice to see you,” he says. “Maybe we can catch up some other time.”

“I was serious about dinner,” Baekhyun mumbles. “But it’ll have to be another time.”

Taeyong pauses, hesitating. “You need to get some rest.”

“I do.” Baekhyun’s lids weigh a ton. “Give Taemin my love. I haven’t seen him in a hot minute.”

“I will.”

By the time Baekhyun rises from his cat nap an hour later, Taeyong has gone and Nayeon is waiting to go through the pictures with him. Baekhyun has already peeked at Taeyong’s pictures, but he’s admittedly impressed by the kid’s talent. In particular, the way he was able to capture Baekhyun’s ideas and convert them into reality with exquisite taste.

“This is going to be great,” he comments with conviction. Nayeon nods, smiling approvingly. That smile in itself is a rarity. It adds more weight to his belief that he’s just stumbled upon a star in the making.

The next time they meet is at a GQ anniversary dinner two months later. The attendees are a glitzy mix of old and new, with a few K-pop idols thrown in. Ex-colleagues and employers greet him cheerily. He spends a delightful time sipping champagne and catching up on the most outrageous gossip in the business, one of the reasons why Baekhyun attends these events at all.

While he’s mingling, he spots Taemin and Taeyong across the room speaking to a bunch of editors from different magazines. Baekhyun would wager Taemin’s making moves for his baby bro. Though Taeyong has the talent to make a name for himself, a network is never bad, particularly in such a cutthroat business like theirs. Baekhyun wouldn’t have been able to get ahead without the help of some.

From a distance he observes Taeyong politely excusing himself and bowing out of the conversation. Taemin spares him a questioning glance before he’s back to addressing the group. Baekhyun shadows Taeyong through a crowd of glamorous individuals, skillfully evading acquaintances, and it’s when he’s passing by a waiter that Taeyong finally spots him. Surprise gives way to a toothy grin that Baekhyun can’t help but mirror because he’s adorable. He grabs two champagne flutes to take over to him.

“Hey, stranger,” Baekhyun drawls, handing Taeyong a drink. “How’s the evening fairing?”

“Well…” Taeyong trails off with a wince. Baekhyun laughs, sipping his drink. His hair has changed to a blueish grey. It suits him. “It could’ve been better I guess.”

“It’s not bad to make some connections,” Baekhyun ventures. “You’re going to learn quickly working in this business.”

Though Taeyong could perhaps fare well without a pristine networking. His work for the Nylon photoshoot had made a ripple through social media. The brand hadn’t had that impact since its launch, for which Baekhyun had modeled. The inkling he’d had upon first seeing the pictures was validated by the reaction online: Taeyong was a diamond in the rough.

“I know that.” Taeyong’s smile loosens. “But I wish I could skip these things and go straight to having those connections. Taemin would lecture me for hours if he ever heard me say that.”

“And with reason,” Baekhyun says. “He didn’t get to where he is by staying home.”

Taemin is the youngest editor-in-chief in Venia magazine’s history. Baekhyun is certain Taemin didn’t get there by sheer luck, but through a combination of hard work and connections.

“What kind of lies are you feeding to my baby brother?”

Baekhyun spins to find Taemin grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Hey!” Taemin receives his hug readily. “Glad to see you could leave your friends for a bit to say hi.”

“I have to keep up with them,” Taemin says. “And you’re one to talk—you’re obsessed with work too.”

Baekhyun pries his arms off Taemin and Taemin lets go of him at once. All the years of friendship have made skinship a natural reaction, which is sometimes troublesome at high-profile events such as this.

Taeyong glances amusedly between the two. “Min sleeps in his office sometimes,” he chimes in, “just so he can keep working through the night.”

“Taemin,” Baekhyun gasps comically. Taemin snickers, guilty. Baekhyun has spent many a night without sleep because of a design, but he plays along to humor the youngest Lee brother. “You can’t do that, it’s bad for your health.”

“One of your famous massages might do me good,” Taemin teases. Just as Baekhyun is about to bounce back with a comeback, Taemin is led away by a senior editor, lending a quick apology before parting.

“In a way Taemin never stops working,” Taeyong says, sipping his glass. “Deep down I kinda admire that.”

“So what would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?”

“I’d be gaming in my pajamas,” Taeyong replies. “And maybe eating some takeout.”

Taeyong’s clad in a dark suit, a white shirt underneath and a black beret to top the outfit. The pristine look distracts from the dark circles under Taeyong’s eyes, visible even through a layer of foundation. Baekhyun considers whether he’s come here straight from a shoot, dragged by his all-too-convincing older brother.

“Gaming?” Baekhyun hums with interest. “I used to like gaming back in the day. Spent hours doing it.”

Baekhyun loved to game before he realized he wanted to take a serious chance at designing his own clothing brand.

Taeyong snickers, the glass near his chin. Baekhyun cocks his head and asks, “What? Back in the day? Does it make me sound too old?”

“Yeah, you’re not that old,” Taeyong acquiesces. “Well, that will have to depend on what games you like.”

They spend an hour talking about different games that they both love and hate, pulling them apart piece by piece for their enjoyment and criticism. Despite his evident tiredness, Taeyong’s disposition isn’t any less sweet and outgoing. The years have ridden him of the baby fat and sharpened his features, though those big, dark eyes remain just as soft and observant. There is a tacit confidence in the way he carries himself, but he finds that at times Taeyong purposely avoids direct eye contact. Baekhyun doesn’t bother quelling a smile at how cute it is.

As the night progresses, Taeyong’s phrases begin to scatter between yawns and his blinking has become sluggish. Baekhyun doesn’t hesitate to offer a ride home.

“Are you sure?” Taeyong seems surprised at his offer. “You don’t wanna stay around here instead?”

“Nah.” Baekhyun glances around and shrugs. “I was bored before I ran into you. You were the highlight of the evening.”

Taeyong titters at the comment, his nose scrunched. Baekhyun almost coos.

“Okay, if you’re sure I’m not bothering you.”

Ten minutes later Taeyong is gawking at his car in the street. Baekhyun chuckles. “You’ve never seen an Audi before?”

“Not this expensive,” Taeyong says. “Definitively the first time I’m riding in one.”

“Don’t you have to tell Taemin you’re leaving?”

It seems Taeyong forgot all about his brother, because his lips part in realization. “I’ll text him. He’s probably too caught up with those old farts to notice I’m missing anyway.”

Baekhyun wants to remark that that’s the way Taemin’s always been at these events, but Taeyong must already know. Another thought crosses him: does Taeyong have an inkling of what he was to his brother once, if only briefly?

Taeyong types his address into the GPS and sits back to watch the streets pass by his window. Baekhyun notices with pleasure that he’s humming and tapping his fingers to the song playing through the speakers.

“You like Frank Ocean?”

Taeyong unveils a smile for Baekhyun. “Yeah, I really like this album.”

“It’s great, I always listen to it when I drive,” Baekhyun says. “I love listening to music while I’m driving.”

“You like driving?”

Taeyong’s watching him with interest from the passenger seat. Baekhyun gifts him a smile before staring ahead. “I love driving, especially at night. It’s one of my favorite hobbies—Well, my only hobby at this point, since I’m eternally busy with the brand.”

For the past three years he poured his life into creating Delight and he’s barely had time for anything else. Driving is the only thing he can do at night after work, when he’s bone-tired but his brain is wide-awake and buzzing with ideas. He can spend hours behind the wheel, with only his music and the road. It’s the most effective way to organize his ideas and clear his mind off his problems.

“I’d love driving too if I owned this car.” Taeyong stares back at the road. “It’s so cool. You’re so cool.”

“Am I?” Baekhyun grins and raises quizzical brows. Taeyong is rubbing his palms over his jeans. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that. Nayeon would call you crazy.”

“I mean it.” Taeyong’s gaze has dropped to his lap. “Your car, your brand… Your clothes are so stylish without being pretentious. And it’s your personal style. You’re cool.”

“Woah,” Baekhyun chuckles, “I’m blushing.”

Taeyong glimpses at him, then ducks his head to hide a smile. God, the boy is cute.

“Well, you’re cool too,” Baekhyun tells him. “More than that, you’re tremendously talented. Your work already has a personal touch to it that not many people have, years into their careers. It’s very distinctive.”

Taeyong looks like Baekhyun has told him he has the cure to cancer. Baekhyun laughs. “That’s not true. I have so much to learn still…”

“You don’t trust me?” Baekhyun teases. Taeyong gawks, unsure of how to answer. Baekhyun chuckles, not unkindly, and Taeyong procures a sheepish smile. “I mean that, Taeyong. I’ve been in this business for nearly ten years. I know talent when I see it.”

Baekhyun hit the runways at the ripe age of twenty. Since eighteen there were small magazines, online shop catalogues—and then the real break, walking at Louis Vuitton’s show in Paris two years after starting his modeling career. Magazine covers and runways never stopped coming, from Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent to Moschino and Tom Ford.

The people who first discovered him saw the latent potential in him that was invisible for everybody else, himself included. Sometimes all people need is a little bit of encouragement and a push in the right path.

“Oh no, thank you.” Taeyong rubs his palms over his cheeks. It’s becoming a regular thing for Baekhyun to want to coo at every little thing Taeyong does. “My brother tells me I still have some to learn to perfect my technique… and he’s right.”

“That’s why I was thinking…” Baekhyun drums on the wheel. “Would you like to come work with me? Join my team?”

Taeyong whips around toward him so fast, Baekhyun fears his neck might hurt later. He chuckles at Taeyong gaping for words. It shouldn’t be such a surprise—anyone can perceive the raw talent in the kid’s work. Baekhyun might be a pretty face, but he’s clever, and owner of an uncanny penchant for thinking ahead, always considering every possibility. Taking Taeyong into his team is a mutually beneficial strategy: Taeyong will expand his portfolio and Baekhyun is going to beat quite a few prominent magazines that will be fighting to snatch Taeyong in a year. It seems like an obvious move.

“Are you for real?” Taeyong’s voice raises an octave with surprise. He quickly covers and uncovers his mouth. Baekhyun chuckles. “Are you serious? That would be so great.”

“Sure, you can come in and learn from the other photographer and still do your own thing on the side, because, of course we’ve barely just started so there’s still some time before we truly land…”

Taeyong nods along to every sentence. Baekhyun wants to laugh again.

“So, what do you say?”

“I’m in,” Taeyong chirps without hesitation. “Like I said, I love your brand and working with you would be an honor.”

The kid has a bit of an idol worship for Baekhyun. Not like it bothers him, it’s cute and funny in a way. He can already imagine telling Nayeon in the morning.

“You’re really stroking my ego here,” Baekhyun jokes. “I’m not that great at all.”

Baekhyun rarely lets his humbleness show around people who aren’t close to him. But he finds himself comfortable with Taeyong. There’s no need for pretenses. They’re just getting to know each other and Taeyong can get more from this relationship than vice versa.

“Sorry, I get carried away.” Taeyong strokes the back of his neck. “Mark—my cousin—he says I can’t shut up in front of someone I admire…”

Taeyong’s honesty endears him somewhat.

“It’s cute, don’t worry,” Baekhyun says. Taeyong dips his chin again. “So how did you end up in this business?”

Taeyong fell in love with photography through a Canon camera his uncle gifted him one Christmas in high school. From there, he began saving up with his allowance to buy other equipment to experiment with lighting and such. College was mainly a way to mollify his parents since his mother wanted him to have a degree, but Taeyong saw it as a stepping stone to cross the threshold of the art world and refine his rough edges at the same time.

The story trails off into a rhythmic sound of breathing. Glancing to his side, Baekhyun realizes Taeyong has fallen asleep, his head lolled on the seat. It tears a laugh out of Baekhyun that he muffles into a fist.

Baekhyun parks outside Taeyong’s building and shifts towards the passenger seat. Taeyong is an angelic creature in slumber, barely a line in his forehead to tell he’s dreaming. Baekhyun shakes his shoulder. A sleepy Taeyong grunts and traps his wrist to stop him.

Baekhyun is grinning when Taeyong begins to blink himself awake. His fingers fold over Baekhyun’s palm in a gentle grip. Taeyong stirs in the seat.

“Oh, god.” Taeyong jolts his arm away with a gasp. “Shit, sorry. I was so tired.”

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun says. “You conked out after your story.”

Taeyong’s moan merges into a bashful laugh. Baekhyun smiles at the tip of his ears darkening.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Taeyong groans. “I’ll talk to you any day though, don’t get me wrong, but this photoshoot I had today extended for hours and…”

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun repeats. A sleepy Taeyong is adorable. One side of his hair sticks up where it had been pressed into the headrest. His smile is soft and fuzzy. Baekhyun would love to take a picture of his current state just to look at it in his absence—and that sole thought breaks through the calm surface of his mind like a stone flung at a mirror.

Taeyong mumbles, “I should get going.”

Baekhyun realizes he’s probably misinterpreted his silence. Before he can justify himself, Taeyong speaks again. “Were you serious about the offer?”

“Of course.” Baekhyun does a thumbs-up. “I’ll have Nayeon call you tomorrow.”

Setting boundaries is one of Baekhyun’s specialties. He and Taeyong are not that familiar yet, even though he is Taemin’s little brother, whom he’s known for nearly a decade. They’ll have time to get to know each other.

Taeyong isn’t put off by this. “Thank you for taking me home.”

“It’s nothing,” Baekhyun says. “C’mon, go to bed before you fall asleep on me again.”

Taeyong chuckles, gives him one last smile and he’s out of his car. “Goodnight, Boss.”

The nickname and the smirk Taeyong has on catch Baekhyun unawares and disarm him completely. There is no witty retort before the door is shut. It’s not until Taeyong enters the building that he’s driving away, the picture of Taeyong sleeping in his seat and his crooked little grin imprinted in his brain for the rest of the drive.

Working with Taeyong is easy. Comfortable. Only weeks into his collaboration, he’s fallen into step effortlessly with the rest of the team at Delight as if he belongs there. With his self-styled Nikes, painted with acrylics, and his bright pink hair, he fits right in. During the photoshoot for the winter catalogue, Taeyong’s duality is a pleasant surprise: he gets along with the models and crew but he doesn’t hesitate to be assertive on his vision and objective. And through his commands, he manages to bring the best out of the models in the pictures. Taeyong has an eye for detail and an uncanny ability to think on his feet, all that Baekhyun would admit he didn’t conceive in him.

He also behaves like a professional around Baekhyun, as if their relationship only amounted to that of colleagues. But Baekhyun has caught him staring at him from across the room during creative meetings or those times he’s come down to the studio to check his work. Baekhyun feigns total obliviousness, but it’s gotten harder to pretend he doesn’t feel a tiny spark of excitement every time it happens.

“Taeyong’s been talking my ear off about you,” Taemin says. “Seems like he likes working with you better than working with me.”

They’re in Jongin’s apartment on a Saturday night. A usual hangout for them is lazing around the couch playing Among Us while waiting for the food to arrive.

“It’s not my fault I’m funnier and nicer,” Baekhyun says. “And cooler too. His words not mine.”

“Okay, you better not make him like you more than me,” Taemin says. “I already got enough eating lunch with him today and hearing all about how classy and cool your brand is—”

“Sounds like somebody is jealous!” Jongin singsongs. Taemin scowls and Jongin sticks his tongue out at him.

The hiss of the beer can Taemin opens is drowned out by Jongin’s hooting. Foam spurs to the surface and Taemin squeals as he rushes to suck it before it spills. In that pause, Baekhyun deliberates whether to mention to Taemin that his brother might have a little crush on him.

“Taemin still acts like Taeyong is his baby,” Jongin says. “Don’t you know he raised him on his back himself?”

“You’re one to talk,” Taemin says, “as if you don’t act like you birthed your niece and nephew yourself.”

“You’re both a pair of saps,” Baekhyun taunts.

“And you Baekhyunnie.” Taemin directs his jeering grin towards him. “When will you find someone to coddle?”

“Baekhyun’s already devoted to his job,” Jongin pipes in. “No one can come close to it.”

Baekhyun’s jaw is taut at the jibe. Yes, he is an eternal workaholic and it’s never clearer than when he’s around his friends. Not like Taemin isn’t any better, but at least he has Taeyong and Jongin.

The bell rings. Jongin and Taemin shoot out of their seats at the same time to race towards the door. Baekhyun falls to the floor laughing, what had afflicted him just a moment before completely forgotten.

The creative team stays behind late one evening, finishing up the last details for the release of the winter line. Baekhyun bought coffee for everyone and made sure to remember Taeyong’s preferred drink. Once the meeting is over, Baekhyun waits until they’re out of earshot to ask Taeyong if he needs a ride.

“Are you sure?” Taeyong blinks quizzically at him. “Isn’t it out of your way?”

“Of course not.” Baekhyun makes a dismissive gesture, though it is somewhat true. “I wouldn’t be offering if it was.”

Taeyong is more awake than last time. In any case, Baekhyun engages him in conversation from the onset to fight off his own drowsiness. It works: Taeyong sheds his initial shyness and gives back as good as he gets, so much so he takes the lead of the conversation. Baekhyun changed his driving playlist in the past couple weeks, so he’s surprised to see Taeyong humming to the music in the few lulls between their topics.

And just like Taeyong’s addition to the team was seamless, he fits into Baekhyun’s life with the same kind of ease, keeping track of his tastes and dislikes, and following his conversation shifts like he was thinking of them first. Baekhyun finds that he likes spending time with him, perhaps more than he should.

Every night Baekhyun offers to take Taeyong home. By the fourth night, the offer isn’t needed; Taeyong follows him to the basement by inertia, too engrossed in their conversation to notice.

That night Baekhyun takes the chance to pose a question that’s been haunting him for a while.

“Taeyong, are you single?”

Taeyong’s doe eyes are inquisitive. “Uh, why are you asking?”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I mean.” Taeyong chuckles, embarrassed at his bluntness. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just—Sorry, you caught me off guard. But yes, I’m single. Why?”

Baekhyun laughs through a sudden spike of anxiousness. “It’s just… What do you think of Rose?”

Rose is the chief stylist in their team. Baekhyun has noticed that she tends to stand or sit close to Taeyong during shoots or meetings. Taeyong seemed oblivious, and he’s proven right by the frown of confusion wrinkling his forehead.

“Rose?”

“Yeah, she’s cute, isn’t she? And she seems to like you.”

“I don’t know, I…” He scratches the side of his neck and leaves his fingers draped there. “She’s cool but she’s not really… my type.”

The emphasis in type doesn’t go unnoticed by Baekhyun. His heart thumps as if cued in by that single word. “And what’s your type?”

“Well, I don’t know… taller, I guess. A little broader.”

Taeyong folds his hands and fits them between his thighs. The brim of his bucket hat is tipped downwards, obscuring half of his face in the process.

“Alright,” Baekhyun says. “That’s not very specific.”

“I’m not really looking to date right now, though.” Taeyong wets the corners of his mouth. “I kind of… already like someone.”

That was expected. Baekhyun releases a weak sigh because, though that reply was foreseeable, the lurch in his stomach wasn’t. He shifts in his seat and keeps his tone light.

“Yeah? Do I know them?” Baekhyun tosses Taeyong a grin. “Are they part of the team?”

This answer takes a long moment to come. And when it does, it’s said in a timid voice, “It’s you, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun stiffens in his seat. In contrast his hands loosen over the steering wheel for a fraction of second. His heart beats itself against his ribcage, like a bee trapped inside a jar.

“Oh,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

Taeyong hums vaguely. “Nayeon told me you’re already seeing someone. So don’t worry about it. I promise not to make it weird.”

Baekhyun smiles placidly. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Taeyong returns him a smile. Nothing in his expression denotes affliction, so Baekhyun breathes easy for the moment. “Can we still be friends? Like this?”

“Of course,” Baekhyun rushes to say, perhaps a little too chirpy. “If that’s what you want.”

“Cool.” Taeyong’s grin has a bit of a mischievous edge. “You still owe me that dinner.”

Baekhyun isn’t sure whether he’s being nice or cruel when he smiles and nods. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll make it up to you.”

For years Baekhyun split his time between Seoul, New York, Milan, London and Paris, never growing roots in one place in case he had to leave again. This is why he kept his list of lovers just as sporadic; one lover in each city for however long he had there.

Sehun walked into his life during a fundraiser gala a year and a half ago. The reason for the fundraiser eludes his memory, but he does remember how striking Sehun had looked in his Berluti suit. Sehun’s mouth had quirked at one of Baekhyun’s jokes and his eyes had followed Baekhyun’s tongue wetting his lips. By the end of the night, he’d been on his knees between Sehun’s legs, Baekhyun’s name on Sehun’s lips as he came for what would be the first time of many.

Baekhyun had just stopped seeing Lee Joongi a month before. The idea was to move on to someone younger and Sehun was the perfect choice. Tall, dark and handsome. A chaebol turned model turned angel investor: he funded some of Delight’s operations during rough times. Joongi was the prime investor in the initial stages, but once Baekhyun lost his interest and his credit card for a younger and fresher supermodel, his funds for the brand also diminished.

Between hotel sheets and expensive dinners, he and Sehun have become something akin to friends. Baekhyun has come to know Sehun’s attitude, which often oscillates between the wisdom of a man twice his age and the pettiness of a child. Especially when he’s been wronged. And with his business on the line, Baekhyun makes sure to take careful steps around his business associate slash occasional lover.

Which is why he keeps his growing attraction to Taeyong to himself. In this business sometimes you gotta keep secrets—Baekhyun has learned that lesson well. Which is why his private life is completely private. The practice doesn’t stop him from currently worrying, considering the chief tie Baekhyun shares with Taeyong is his older brother.

He and Taemin go way back. They both share a passion for fashion that brought them together and kept their paths joined in the subsequent years. While Delight was barely the bones of an idea, Taemin was the one Baekhyun turned to for advice on the sketches he had so far. It’s a close friendship born out of a short-lived romance, a memory they’ve tiptoed around for so long, it’s turned them into experts in the art of it. And despite all, he can’t help himself from staring, for his fingers to brush over an arm, a wrist, a shoulder, at every opportunity.

One night, at the end of January, these reminders are sitting with him at Taemin’s table. Taemin organized a little dinner on a Saturday for his closest friends: Baekhyun, Jongin, Seulgi and Krystal, a couple of models, stylists and people from his magazine. Of course, his little brother Taeyong makes an appearance since he’s begun to forge his path in the industry in the last year. His work is praised without reserve around the table. Baekhyun snickered behind his glass because of Taeyong’s evident blush, his all-too familiar tic of rubbing his cheeks when he’s overwhelmed.

Most of the guests take their leave around eleven. Jongin tags along with Krystal and Seulgi to smoke on the balcony. It’s only Baekhyun and the Lee brothers at the table.

“How’s working with my brother, by the way?” Taemin asks. “I hope you’re treating him well.”

“Taemin, stop,” Taeyong whines, shoving his brother’s shoulder. Taemin squeaks as his glass spills droplets over the table. “Baekhyun is a great boss.”

“You’re saying that because he’s right here,” Taemin jokes. There is a faint slurring in his pronunciation. Baekhyun and Taeyong laugh in unison. “You can be honest; he can’t do anything to you.”

“I’m the best boss ever,” Baekhyun protests. “I let him hang around the office even on his off days.”

“Our Taeyongie loves working.” Taemin ruffles Taeyong’s faded pink hair and arms himself with a leer. “Or maybe he just has a crush on someone.”

“No,” Taeyong exclaims. “That is none of your—”

“Baekhyunnie, do you know who it is?” Taemin probes. “You must know—you always know everything.”

Baekhyun’s smile is frozen. “Taeyong’s never mentioned anything.”

“It’s not Baekhyunnie, is it?” Taemin pinches Taeyong’s cheek. “Baekhyunnie is so handsome, but you can’t fall for his charm. He’s a heartbreaker.”

“What?” Baekhyun laughs, incredulous. “I’m not at all.”

“You are.” Taemin pouts exaggeratedly. “You broke my heart, remember?”

Baekhyun can’t tell for sure whether Taemin is joking or not. Mischief threads at the corners of his lips so Baekhyun decides to play along. This particular scene has become a habit of sorts during their drinking rounds: Taemin gets drunk and the conversation usually diverts to their former relationship—of course always in a lighthearted manner—like a secret drinking game. Perhaps Taemin is too far gone to care for someone outside their circle being there, but Baekhyun for one is acutely aware of Taeyong sitting with them, quietly studying his glass.

“You broke my heart though,” Baekhyun bounces back jokingly. “And you didn’t even give me a reason. So who’s the real heartbreaker here?”

Several summers ago, Taemin had kissed him in the darkness of his living room. Inuyasha was playing on the tv because Taemin likes anime. They had been drinking since sundown; Taemin’s breath smelled like beer and Baekhyun had fished for a second kiss. Temperatures had recently been on the rise and heat stuck to Baekhyun’s bare skin. By the time the windows at his place were frosted over, Taemin had broken things off with a vague excuse of work won’t let me have a social life, sorry.

Baekhyun had smiled and agreed. Work was taking him to Tokyo soon for a photoshoot with Vivi magazine. His new agent was pulling strings for a global clothing brand campaign. Things were happening—slowly but surely. And they were happening for Taemin too. It was only reasonable to part ways before it got complicated. Gratefully, it never affected their friendship, or their friend circle for that matter, and the whole affair was reduced to a funny anecdote during drunken stupors.

“You.” Taemin points a finger at him. Baekhyun laughs warmly. “Because you’re still heartbreakingly pretty.”

“You’re embarrassing your brother,” Baekhyun warns. Taeyong smiles tightly once Taemin checks. “You should go to bed, old man.”

“Yeah, big bro.” Taeyong gets to his feet with his plate. “It’s past your bedtime.”

“I won’t have this insolence in my home,” Taemin says, heading towards the balcony from where Jongin’s high-pitched laugh carries. “Jonginnie is a lot more fun.”

Baekhyun hadn’t drunk much wine during the meal. But a current of electricity buzzes through his system the second he’s left with Taeyong. Throughout the night his train of thought oscillated between how stunning Taeyong looked across the table and the machination of an opportunity to get him alone. The newly gained privacy has the exciting quality of a shared secret, and such is reflected on their smiles.

In the kitchen Taeyong teaches him to use Taemin’s dishwasher. It’s hilarious because he has an exact replica of it at home—but having a reason to talk to Taeyong is worth acting clueless.

“So are you taking a cab home?”

“Are you offering me a ride?” Taeyong’s smile is lopsided. And entirely dangerous considering the situation. “I could use a late-night walk along the Han.”

Taeyong’s gaze is charged with meaning, and something else hidden right underneath, that strings Baekhyun in like a force of gravity.

Footsteps interrupt the connection.

“What are you two whispering about in here?”

Taemin grins at them, carrying a tray full of glasses. Baekhyun moves away so he can put the tray in the sink.

“Baekhyun was just telling me about this new idea for a line of jewelry,” Taeyong provides out of thin air. “It’s gonna look so cool, Min. You should check it out.”

“That reminds me,” Taemin says, clutching Baekhyun’s elbow, “how is the new line coming along? I have a couple ideas that you might like.”

“Like what?”

“How about modeling for the magazine for the anniversary spread?” Taemin suggests entreatingly. “Modeling your clothes, of course. The theme is all the important people that have been on the covers.”

Any other time Baekhyun would take at least a second to react in a proper way, but the apprehension of near discovery has his thoughts occupied. “Sure, that sounds cool.”

Taemin goes into detail of his vision for this particular cover. They don’t leave until half an hour later; Taeyong claims he’s sleepy so he takes his leave first and waits around for Baekhyun in the garage. It’s like he’s sneaking around behind his friend’s back. In a way, it’s exactly that, Baekhyun muses from the smiles shared as the car roars to life and drives them into another nighttime escapade.

Chilly winds sweep the trees at Yeouido park. The cold has kept people away, so a scarce number of couples tread the paths at this hour.

“Were you uncomfortable at Taemin’s place?” Baekhyun queries. “You know, while Jongin and the others were out smoking…”

Taeyong smiles and lowers his head. “Nah, just embarrassed for Min. He has a couple of drinks and forgets how to act.”

“That’s true,” Baekhyun concurs. A nagging question hangs off the tip of his tongue. Was Taeyong upset? Has he figured it all out already? He must have an inkling, if the glance that swiftly swings from him to the river is any indication.

“I don’t mind,” Taeyong says. “You and Min flirting or whatever. I’ve seen him drunk enough times to know he never remembers anything later.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun returns his smile and tugs at the sleeve of Taeyong’s coat. “Because it… it doesn’t mean anything.”

The lights from the bridge are fractured over the surface of the Han. Taeyong glances off it and at Baekhyun. An unnamed emotion appears in fractured portions over his expression: first over the brief arch of his brow, the slight part of his lips and the sparkle of those big, round eyes. It whizzes past him and disappears, leaving a shuttered version behind, dimmer, but no less frank and friendly and beautiful.

“Don’t you have work in the morning?” Taeyong taunts. “You’re going to be super tired because of me.”

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun assures him. “I’m enjoying this. The view, the empty park, the nice company.”

Taeyong grins, shuffles closer. Their knuckles brush. Baekhyun swipes his knuckles across the back of Taeyong’s hand. Little gestures like this may seem meaningless, but the sheer tenderness of them are a wine that Baekhyun gets drunk on.

“Okay, then.” Taeyong, emboldened, loops their arms together. Baekhyun is thankful for the extra heat. “Tell me some funny stories about modeling. Did you ever trip on the runway?”

A whiff of Taeyong’s perfume accelerates his pulse. Still Gucci. Some of his giddiness bubbles out of him in a guffaw. “Alright. I have many of those.”

Delight opens its second store in Apgujeong in February to coincide with the release of a jewelry collection.

Baekhyun treats the entire team to dinner. Those oldest in the team sit with him. The alcohol is good, the food is delicious and the conversation is pleasant. Yet Baekhyun keeps looking over to Taeyong at the next table. That day he’d brought along a man; an old friend from college, Baekhyun had overheard. The familiarity is evident, judging by how close Taeyong is sitting, and as the night progresses and the glasses are knocked down, the distance becomes slimmer.

That ugly feeling that peeks its little green form within Baekhyun is unmistakable. It makes him feel ridiculous and juvenile; he hasn’t felt jealous since his early twenties nor has he had a reason to in all these years. Baekhyun is thirty years old and envious that this unknown man can sweep Taeyong’s fringe back and let his head rest over his shoulder without interrupting their conversation.

Everyone begins to disperse around midnight. Baekhyun is standing on the sidewalk talking to Yeri, a new assistant designer, when Taeyong stumbles out of the restaurant, hanging off his friend. He says goodbye to Yeri and rushes over to Taeyong’s side.

“Can I help you?”

Taeyong’s friend shoots him a wary glance that switches to recognition. “You’re his boss, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “And your name is?”

“Doyoung.” The man lifts a palm and promptly uses it to stop Taeyong from tumbling out of his clasp. “He hasn’t gotten this shitfaced in a while.”

Taeyong mumbles an incoherent string of words as his head rolls onto Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung appears a little helpless with a deadweight Taeyong in his hold. Baekhyun calls them a taxi without prompting.

“You know, he never shuts up about you.”

Baekhyun looks up from his phone. “What?”

“I’m only telling you this because he’s out like a light,” Doyoung goes on, “but he seriously never stops talking about you. He teases me because I get jealous, but really, it’s just that I feel like I’m the one who’s working for you with all the secondhand knowledge I have.”

A smile snaps across his face at the idea of Taeyong telling his friends about him, and constantly being in his mind, perhaps as much as he is in his. The thrill that pools hot in his gut renders him fuzzier than the alcohol in his bloodstream.

The taxi arrives a minute later, and with their combined effort, they settle Taeyong in the backseat. Taeyong’s bleary focus shifts to him for a second. Baekhyun smiles, taps his arm, and Taeyong is out again.

“Take care of him,” he tells Doyoung from the sidewalk. Doyoung grins, shouts a “Thank you, man!” as the taxi drives off. Baekhyun watches it turn a corner and calls a taxi for himself.

Two weeks later Baekhyun makes good of his promise to treat Taeyong to dinner. Baekhyun finished work early for the first time that week. As he’s packing up his things, he spots Taeyong through the glass walls of his office. Sometimes Taeyong comes down to hang out with the rest of the team during his off days and ignores Baekhyun unless he’s directly addressed. It’s become a little game of theirs: Baekhyun keeps his distance and Taeyong feigns complete indifference.

Taeyong’s indifference isn’t a faultless act. Sporadically, his gaze shifts to Baekhyun, impelled by an invisible force, and like in a game, Baekhyun plays the part of the unwitting. This time he only has to wait a couple beats for Taeyong to look his way again and he gestures to meet him in the parking lot. Taeyong’s perplexity transforms into a smile that is promptly quelled in case somebody notices. That little smile distracts Baekhyun until Taeyong joins him in his car minutes later.

“So where are you taking me?” Taeyong clicks on the seatbelt. “Somewhere fancy?”

“You think I’d take you someplace cheap?”

“Nayeon’s told me you’re full of surprises,” Taeyong jests. Baekhyun laughs, steering the car out of the parking lot. “So I don’t know what to expect.”

“Prepare to be pleasantly surprised then,” Baekhyun tells him. “I’m taking you to one of my favorite places.”

Taeyong squeezes his belt and makes a tiny squeak of anticipation. Baekhyun has to remind himself to concentrate on driving.

Baekhyun takes them to an Italian place near his apartment. Taeyong is particularly handsome under the warm glow of the tea candle on their table, brightening further when the waiter brings his pizza. They share food from their respective plates because everything’s delicious; Baekhyun swirls pasta around his fork and Taeyong opens up for him obediently. The way Taeyong moans upon tasting the food shouldn’t be so sinful.

“That’s so good.”

“Told you this was one of my favorite places,” Baekhyun says. “I usually come here in the odd times I get tired of take-out.”

“You don’t like cooking?”

“I never learned how to,” Baekhyun reveals with a self-conscious chuckle. “And I never bothered since I could buy take-out anyway.”

“It’s easier to order food,” Taeyong agrees. “But homemade meals are nice. I like cooking for other people. Doyoung says I’m good at it.”

Baekhyun schools an unaffected facade at that information. Taeyong cooking for Doyoung is one thing, so he centers on the softness in his voice on the mention of his love of cooking.

“Will you ever cook for me?” Baekhyun teases, simpering. Taeyong giggles, diffident. A blush tints his cheeks, perhaps from the wine.

“Depends on what I get from it.”

Baekhyun emits a frisky noise. “What do you want?”

Taeyong sips his wine, trained on Baekhyun over his glass. Baekhyun follows the motion of his tongue swiping over ruby lips like a moth to a flame.

“Several things,” Taeyong says. “Lots of things.”

The cryptic tone he employs doesn’t invite further probing. So Baekhyun hums, drinks his wine and watches Taeyong across the table. From the way Taeyong regards him steadily, unlike other times, it is definitely the wine talking. The temperature of his body rises under the unyielding weight of his stare.

Taeyong falls asleep during the drive home again. Outside his building Baekhyun wakes him gently, prodding him with soft whispers and nudges that Taeyong responds to in groans. It is his laughter that finally rouses Taeyong, blinking blearily before embarrassment sets in once he understands what’s happened. A just-roused Taeyong is ever so adorable.

“Am I so boring that I make you fall asleep?”

Taeyong chuckles and stifles a yawn. “No, it’s just—wine makes me sleepy.” He blinks rapidly to fight off drowsiness. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“It’s nothing,” Baekhyun says. “You’re a nice companion even when you’re asleep.”

Taeyong produces a raspy, ebullient sound, the kind that scrunches his nose. What Baekhyun would give to hear that every morning. And he does have the most devastating smile—those tiny crinkles over his nose, the crescent shape of his eyes, every little detail about it tugs at his soul with a sweet twinge.

Taeyong moves to open his door and turns back to Baekhyun like he’s forgotten something. The silence in the car is thick. Taeyong’s gaze drops to his mouth and it takes another immeasurable second to lock eyes again. Baekhyun holds in a breath. The two are suspended in time, unable to do more than exist in this moment that stretches on forever.

The honk of a nearby car startles them out of their spell. Taeyong swivels towards the door, mumbles a quick goodnight, and jumps to the pavement. The exhale Baekhyun releases drags along with it the stifling tension winding up his body. He wills his nerves to fizzle out and starts the car to drive home.

They don’t talk about what happened in his car. Baekhyun wonders if Taeyong even remembers it, considering how much he’d drunk. In the end he chalks it up to a lapse in judgement and leaves it at that.

The dinners become a recurrent affair following that meal at the Italian place. Baekhyun got his number that night, so he now has a way to contact him. They text frequently. Taeyong texts him about his freelance shoots, attaches pictures of the sets or his food, and sometimes asks for Baekhyun’s feedback. Oftentimes Taeyong sprinkles in selfies among the messages, and Baekhyun spends an embarrassing amount of time smiling down at his phone. He sends back a selfie out of boredom or procrastination, and Taeyong is nothing but a source of distraction. The selfies earn him an onslaught of emojis or a snarky comment, depending on Taeyong’s mood.

Over white tablecloths, Baekhyun discovers what kind of foods Taeyong loves. He also finds that wine gets Taeyong tipsy like nothing else: he falls asleep in Baekhyun’s car twice, so he replaces the wine for beer or coke. The way Taeyong can be talking about something one second and snoring softly the next is endlessly funny to Baekhyun. One time he’d nodded off mid-sentence and Baekhyun’s raucous laughter had jolted him awake.

They’ve been hitting some of their favorite places always with the caution of not being seen by other people—they pick the corner tables, VIP sections, away from other patrons. The one time Baekhyun was stopped by an old colleague, he’d not wasted time to put on his most charming grin and introduce Taeyong as his staff photographer. (By the way, have you seen Taeyong’s work? He’s incredibly talented).

“Taemin did not do that!”

It’s pizza for dinner that evening. They’d been talking about college—Taeyong graduated top of his class, Baekhyun skipped to pursue modeling—, and it had taken Taeyong no time to cajole Baekhyun into telling him embarrassing anecdotes about his older brother. He told him about that time they had rented a cabin and skinny dipped in the lake, where Taemin cannonballed naked and ruined his and Baekhyun’s phones in the water.

“He did.” Baekhyun nods solemnly, picking up his glass. “Your brother was wild in college. Now he acts like a goody two-shoes but back then—” He whistles, eyebrows raised, and Taeyong cackles. “You wouldn’t believe half the stuff he did.”

Baekhyun leaves unmentioned that a lot of the stuff included him daring Taemin in exchange for a kiss or more.

“Was he like that while you guys were together?”

A swig of beer goes down the wrong tract. Taeyong seems unfazed. There’s a knowing quirk to his mouth that becomes pronounced as Baekhyun coughs and thumps his chest with a fist.

Gaining his composure, Baekhyun asks in a choked voice, “He told you?”

Taeyong bites his lip, dubitative. “Does that bother you? I can pretend I don’t know.”

“Nah, it’s not a big deal,” Baekhyun clarifies. “I just thought he didn’t like talking about it since only a handful of people know. Namely everyone who was friends with us back then.”

“He didn’t tell me,” Taeyong confesses. “I saw you once back at the country house when we stayed there for a week one summer. Remember?” Taeyong smiles down at his plate, where he pushes around leftover crumbs with a fork. “You guys were going at it behind a tree. I didn’t know what to do so I just ran back to the house.”

Taeyong laughs to himself. Baekhyun manages half a smile as a memory escapes from where he’d buried those months. A lake shot through with sunlight, kissing Taemin behind a tree and fending off mosquito bites. They’d had to sneak out a lot to be together since his mother had a habit of walking into rooms unannounced. Taemin had brought along Jongin and Moonkyu, then rookie models. Taemin’s internship at Vogue had opened him doors for a junior position at Venia, and Baekhyun knew they wanted different things. They didn’t outlast that summer.

A teenage Taeyong appears in his memories baby-faced, wide-eyed and soft-spoken, ever quick to laugh. The boy’s shyness was an irk for a young and impatient Baekhyun. But one thing for sure is that Taeyong never stopped being cute.

“Sorry for making you see that I guess,” Baekhyun jokes. Taeyong laughs, tugging at his earlobe. The tip of his ears are red. “At least we had our clothes on.”

Taeyong covers his face. “God, don’t put that image in my mind!”

Baekhyun sits back and guffaws. A rowdy, boisterous laugh, deep from within his belly, like he hasn’t laughed in ages.

It’s become a bad habit of his to take the long route to drive Taeyong home. If Taeyong notices, he doesn’t mention it. The city lights striping through the windshield are witnesses to their tongue-tied dances around a thousand things unsaid.

That night he picks Taeyong up from a shoot for Esquire that ran late. He dives into a detailed account of his work day as soon as he settles in the passenger seat, his enthusiasm overriding his fatigue. Baekhyun likes that in people. That spark, that fire, that drive for one’s work is something he admires. Passion is what nurtures talent and Taeyong has plenty of both.

They buy food at a McDonalds drive-thru since they’re too lazy to leave the car. Baekhyun is going to regret it later since the smell of fried food lingers in the car, but he doesn’t mind it one bit for the way Taeyong moans delightedly as he inhales his burger.

Baekhyun chooses back roads that are deserted at this time of night. An SZA song thumps through the stereo. Any other night if Baekhyun was alone, he would sing along to it. Tonight his attention is divided between the road and the man in his passenger seat.

Taeyong segued into a reverie a couple stops ago. The streetlights glint off his earrings for a second. His cheek is over his knuckles, his forehead angled toward the glass. In a way it’s fascinating to observe him like this, deep in thought and his guards lowered, but it eats him inside to be ignorant of the reason for his preoccupation.

“You wanna drive?”

Taeyong blinks like he’s heard him wrong. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun laughs, shrugging, “why not.”

Taeyong improvises a silly dance from excitement when they switch places. It’s the first time somebody else has driven his car, but he’s certain nobody else could’ve had that same childlike reaction. The engine purrs under their feet as Taeyong starts the car again. They cruise over empty streets, speeding only to pass a car. Baekhyun grabs Taeyong’s knee on an impulse, that little fiery urge that he only satiates at times. Taeyong glances down briefly, his expression unreadable, and it’s back to the road again.

Taeyong leads them to an overlook near the outskirts of the city. Baekhyun removes his grasp once the car stops.

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

Awe spills out of Taeyong in the sparkle of his gaze. It makes Baekhyun laugh. “It was so much better.”

The Seoul skyline glitters in the distance like a sequined dress. They lean against the car to watch the sleeping city and speak quietly, even if they’re alone, like they’re trying to contain a secret. Lately their silences have grown longer, comfortable, so the breeze that ruffles the trees in the surrounding area is the soundtrack to the scene. Taeyong leans into him, the back of their hands brushing. The second time, Taeyong’s finger runs across the back of Baekhyun’s hand with intent. Baekhyun’s index twitches. It takes him another second to make up his mind to return the touch, with the same kind of purposeful gentleness.

Taeyong muffles a yawn and slumps back against the car. His tiredness makes his lids flap drowsily over prominent bags.

“Are you sleepy?” Baekhyun asks. “You should’ve told me to take you home instead.”

“No,” Taeyong rushes to say. The swiftness of his response tears a chuckle out of Baekhyun. “No, it’s not like I’ll go to sleep right away if you took me home anyway. I stay up gaming until I’m too tired to keep going.”

“That’s not good,” Baekhyun chastises him gently. “But it’s also exactly the kind of thing I used to do years ago.”

The buoyant melody of Taeyong’s laugh is cut by the buzzing of his phone. Baekhyun tenses up at seeing Taemin’s name on the caller ID. Taeyong lets it ring and pockets it again.

“Are you mad at Taemin?”

“He wants me to do a cover for Venia,” Taeyong replies. “It would advance my career, yeah, but it would obviously be because he’s my brother. I told him no.”

“You want to get those achievements yourself.”

Taeyong nods, morose, and gazes down. “I know he means well, but I’ve never asked him for a favor, not even while I was just starting, and I’d have no reason to start now.”

The resolve in Taeyong’s voice is clear. Baekhyun grins, feeling a kind of fraternal pride that spurs him to squeeze Taeyong in an impromptu half-armed hug.

“You’re going to make a name for yourself,” Baekhyun says. “You have my word for it.”

Taeyong grins, embarrassed, and hides in Baekhyun’s neck. His hair tickles him, and he giggles, but he doesn’t move. The beret he’d been wearing is in the backseat; he’d recently dyed his hair a shocking red that shouldn’t look so attractive in anyone. If the dark wasn’t so thick, he would bet his face is the same shade as his hair. “I should believe you then.”

“You should,” Baekhyun says. “My predictions are rarely wrong.”

Lifting his head, their noses are mere inches apart. Taeyong’s adam’s apple bobs as he tears his eyes away from Baekhyun’s lips. His smile falters imperceptibly. “Can I make my own prediction?”

“Of course.”

“I predict you drive us back to the city,” Taeyong murmurs, “and we get some jajangmyeon before going home.”

Baekhyun erupts into laughter and Taeyong shuffles back. The tingling in his limbs hasn’t faded, even with the extra space. Instantly, he misses the heat from Taeyong’s body, the weight of him, the scent of his cologne. It’s hard not to pull him in again, harder even to mask the emotions warring inside him, of which Taeyong seems entirely unaware as he scurries to climb back into the passenger seat.

“You’re going to leave me broke,” Baekhyun says inside the car, “with all the food I buy you.”

“C’mon, you’re rich,” Taeyong says, clicking his seatbelt. “And you like buying me food.”

Taeyong flaps his eyelids coquettishly. Baekhyun hates to admit it works on him. And he does like buying Taeyong food, likes the sincerity of his joy when his favorite food is laid out on the table.

“Just because you’re so convincing,” Baekhyun jokes. Taeyong snickers. “Okay, where do you wanna go?”

“Are you seeing someone?”

Baekhyun spins towards Sehun. “What?”

They’re in a Louis Vuitton store picking a present for one of Sehun’s dad’s friends. Sehun had posed the question without ever looking away from the sunglasses he’s inspecting.

“The other day I texted you late and it took you hours to reply,” Sehun explains, putting the sunglasses back. “It usually takes you minutes because you’re done with work by then.”

That Friday he’d taken Taeyong to the Ritz for drinks. It had been worth it for the lovely color that sat on Taeyong’s cheeks as a result of his second drink. He’d fallen asleep on Baekhyun’s shoulder on the cab ride home and he’d held his hand in the darkness of the backseat.

“No,” is Baekhyun’s careful reply. “I think I’d tell you if I was.”

“Well, I ran into Irene at work today and she told me she saw you getting drinks with a guy at the Ritz that night.” Sehun’s tone is as casual as if he were talking about the weather. Baekhyun’s pulse piques. “So, who was he?”

“He’s one of my photographers at Delight.” Baekhyun pretends to be overly interested in the price tag of a jacket. “And he’s Taemin’s little brother. We were just catching up.”

“Were you congratulating him for doing a good job?” Sehun jokes. Baekhyun quirks a brow at the lingering suspicion in Sehun’s squinting.

“Why, are you jealous?”

“No, I’d just like to know you if you’re two-timing me,” Sehun retorts. It’s not menacing or threatening, just plain honesty. Sehun casts him a glance that Baekhyun holds openly.

“Would you tell me if you were?”

Sehun has a reputation of being promiscuous. Baekhyun doesn’t know if he sees other people, he’s never bothered to ask. It’s not like it would affect him if Sehun was in fact sleeping around—their relationship amounts more to friendship than an actual, monogamous relationship. But for Sehun, it comes down to pride and business with all the money he’s put into his clothing line.

“Always answering questions with a question.” Sehun tsks and Baekhyun chuckles. “Now, help me pick a nice wallet for Junmyeon. I want to impress him with my good taste.”

April sweeps in rain showers and balmier temperatures. The rich scent of petrichor permeates the trails at the park during their late night walks. The grass bends softly beneath their feet and the breeze from the river carries the aroma of the cherry trees bloomed to a suede pink.

Delight lands the cover of Vogue during the spring. That April marks one year since the brand’s launch and it’s an accomplishment Baekhyun never expected to earn so fast.

There aren’t any names attached to the cover yet. Baekhyun sets his sights on IU, an established singer, to model for the cover. It would introduce them to a new audience since her fanbase ranges from teenagers to middle-aged people.

Getting her is the hard part. Nayeon has to pull several strings to get her on the cover and she accepts after some deliberation with her team. She’s going to have a comeback soon, so the photoshoot comes with good timing to kick off her promotions.

“The editor wants you to join her for a couple of shots,” Nayeon tells him. “She thinks it’s going to look cool if you guys do a cover together.”

“Did IU like the idea?”

“Yeah, she thought it was cool too,” Nayeon answers. “She said she’s always admired your style.”

Baekhyun hasn’t modeled for his brand since it launched last year, so it is a good challenge in a way. Of course he has Taeyong to take the pictures. He jumps at the idea, awestruck at the prospect of meeting IU. The fact that he’s going to get Baekhyun in front of the camera for the first time since he started working at Delight remains unsaid.

“Be warned,” Baekhyun says, “I’m not an easy model.”

He fumbles with the lapels of Taeyong’s leather jacket, gazing at him from under his lashes. Straight-out flirting. All there is for a response is Taeyong’s mouth twisting with challenge.

IU greets him with warmth on the day of the shoot. She buys coffee and food for the entire team unprompted and has her manager advise everyone to eat before the photoshoot starts. She lives up to her name as the nation’s sweetheart.

Surprisingly, he falls into a comfortable groove with IU. They have good chemistry and their aura in the pictures is undeniable, unbelievable for two people who met that day. A lot better than Baekhyun first expected. It’s thanks in part to Taeyong’s talent to extract the hidden qualities in something with his expert discernment and polish them for the rest of the world to admire.

After a quick lunch it’s Baekhyun’s turn for solo pictures. Taeyong seems serious behind the camera, entirely focused on his task.

“You’re so serious,” Baekhyun jokes.

Taeyong allows a tiny smile and retreats behind the lens again. “I take my job very seriously.”

Taeyong’s a completely different person on set. It’s like his sole focal point is his objective. A driven, focused energy possesses him, a machine trying to discern every detail and angle, the beauty where only he can see it and bring it to life. A painter, his brush, and Baekhyun, his muse for the day.

“How’d you like me better?”

Baekhyun throws his left leg over the armchair, folding the other to himself. Taeyong chuckles, the first time in nearly half an hour that his professional mask has slipped. Then he’s going over to Baekhyun to fix his open collar and flick his bangs to the side with a single digit. The want in Taeyong’s gaze is undiluted, unmistakable, hooking itself on Baekhyun and stringing him in—and yet he’s unable to look away.

“There,” Taeyong says, pulling back. “Show me all your supermodel poses.”

“I trust you to make me look good.”

“You always look perfect.”

There is barely a trace of demureness in Taeyong’s lopsided smile. Baekhyun returns it and says nothing.

Posing for Taeyong fills him with a type of rush that he’s only experienced once before: that night Taeyong almost kissed him in his car. Taeyong’s attention is a sharp knife, slicing hot through him, and he can’t get enough of it, posing, shifting, striving to meet every single one of his commands.

It is a powerful high that fades gradually only once the photoshoot is over. The adrenaline drips through him as the stylist takes his makeup off at his vanity and it leaves him cold while he chats and takes pictures with the editor-in-chief. Taeyong is with the other assistants checking and discussing the pictures, seemingly unaffected.

“You two were eye-fucking each other back there,” IU says, sidling up to him. “Don’t give me that look. It was obvious.”

“He’s one of my staff photographers,” Baekhyun laughs, awkward. He’s suddenly feeling exposed. “I guess we’re very good at our jobs.”

IU hums vaguely, obviously not convinced. “Whatever you say, but he’s cute. You should make a move soon, before somebody else snatches him up from under your nose.”

IU pats his back and ambles over to her manager. Taeyong has been lured away from the monitors by a stunning woman. Park Joy, one of Vogue’s exclusive models. She’s tall, standing nearly as tall as Taeyong in heels, and beautiful in a way that is both sweet and untouchable. They’re conversing like two long-time friends, but something spikes Baekhyun’s alarm. Joy tosses her glossy black hair over her shoulder and punches Taeyong’s arm, both laughing over an unheard joke. Taeyong clasps her wrist, first hesitant then more assured, and their fingers lace together easily.

Acid roils in the cavity of his chest, the same awful sensation he got at that work dinner all those months ago.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Nayeon muses. “Didn’t know Taeyong had it in him.”

“Maybe they’re just friends,” Baekhyun opines. “Either way, it’s none of our business.”

Nayeon smiles and shrugs. They leave together shortly afterwards, and during the whole ride to his apartment, he tries not to think of Taeyong’s laughter at whatever Joy was saying.

“Baekhyun, are you with us?”

Baekhyun snaps out of his reverie. The creative team was in the middle of a meeting when he’d spaced out, thinking about Taeyong’s text from days ago that he’d not answered, and currently, the whole table is staring at him.

“Yes, sorry.” He clears his throat and straightens in his chair. “You were saying?”

The chief of the creative team, Yuri, shoots him a smile and returns to her topic. Nayeon raises her eyebrows and he answers with a comical grimace. He’s mortified enough at being called out in his own meeting; he doesn’t need more reprimanding.

Unpredictably, his thoughts return to Taeyong. There was little else on his mind that week. The way he felt seeing Taeyong and Joy at the Vogue photoshoot was a wakeup call, and so was IU’s comment. The decision to stay away from Taeyong was imminent, but the harrowing part of that plan was cutting contact. It wasn’t too late to put some distance between them, at least until the feeling that his day isn’t complete without seeing or texting Taeyong fades. Feeding this attraction isn’t good or wise and yet…

In the evening, he attends the opening of a store in Gangnam. Usually, he and Sehun pretend to be strangers at events, but that night Sehun sticks to him like a shadow as they converse with other celebrities. Taemin is among the attendees. Trepidation hooks its fangs into his spine upon seeing Taeyong by his elbow. Sehun’s probably forgotten that Taeyong was the guy Irene spotted Baekhyun with, for he greets them as casually as he would with any other person.

“We should get a drink soon,” Taemin says. “We haven’t gotten together in so long.”

Taeyong is impassive, dodging Baekhyun’s gaze like a sport. Baekhyun thought he would be the one to avoid him, but he keeps searching for any type of sign that Taeyong knows he’s there.

“We totally should,” Baekhyun chirps. “We should get everyone together. I know Jongin will be on board.”

“That sounds like chaos,” Sehun pipes in. “Count me in.”

The pair part a moment later, led away by Taemin’s assistant who wants him to meet a more important person.

Fifteen minutes later Sehun guides Baekhyun outside. Baekhyun assumes they’re heading to his car so he fishes out his keys, but Sehun remains rooted to the sidewalk. There is a seriousness to his bearing that has Baekhyun straightening for whatever he is about to say. Sehun squares his shoulders and hangs a thumb off the pocket of his perfectly tailored pants.

“I guess it was a long time coming,” he starts, “but I’m not going to see you anymore.”

Baekhyun’s at a loss for words. “Are you dumping me?”

“Yeah.” Sehun angles his head. “I’m dumping you.”

“Why?”

“You’re going to dump me for that mini Taemin anyway,” Sehun responds, nonchalant. “I didn’t miss the way you’ve been staring at him all night.”

In hindsight, Baekhyun should’ve seen it coming. Sehun must’ve known Taeyong would be here. It was a clever way to confirm his suspicions. Shame tastes bitter on his tongue.

“I’m so sorry, I was going to tell you,” Baekhyun assures, “but I didn’t know how to yet.”

“You’ve been so out of it lately, I figured you were probably freaking out over this.” Sehun chuckles, waving his hand dismissively. “We were never dating, but we were always honest with each other. Until lately, I guess. So I’m making it easy for you.” Sehun twirls his wrist. “You’re free to go home with him.”

A Mercedes parks along the curb some distance from them. Sehun waves pointedly and turns back to Baekhyun.

“Wait.” Baekhyun gasps with understanding. “Is that—Are you leaving with someone?”

Sehun smiles, guilty of charge. “Maybe.” Baekhyun laughs despite himself because Sehun is so predictable. “It’s Junmyeon. He’s old, I know, but I can’t help myself.”

“Wow can’t say I’m surprised,” Baekhyun says. Sehun chuckles. “But good for you, I guess.”

Sehun’s smile is devoid of any pretenses. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he says. “But I wonder what Taemin’s going to say when he finds out about you and his little brother. You’ve been friends for a long time after all.”

Sehun doesn’t know about him and Taemin. Baekhyun never told him. It’s one of the fears Baekhyun had put in a corner of his mind and it has come buzzing to the forefront with alarming increase for the past few days. Taemin is not only his friend, but he’s also at the top of one of the most influential magazines in the industry. Baekhyun can’t afford to make a wrong move here, but he’s also past the point of denying his attraction to Taeyong.

“Maybe Taeyong will have better luck than me with getting through to you,” Sehun says, “I tried and failed.”

Baekhyun frowns with disbelief. “Did you?”

“Yeah, you’re a tough one to crack,” Sehun states. “At least I got your friendship and some great sex.”

Baekhyun is going to miss Sehun’s dry straightforwardness that could crack him up anytime. “And I got your help,” he says. “And I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.”

Sehun steps closer to pat his arm. Then he climbs into Junmyeon’s car and drives away. Baekhyun jingles his car keys when he spots Taeyong leaving the store on his own. He stands there a long moment, deciding whether what he’s about to do is a good idea with all the effort he’d put into placing some distance between them.

“Hey,” Baekhyun calls out, “where is Taemin?”

Taeyong spins around with a start. His doe eyes harden as soon as he recognizes him. “He’s going to an afterparty. I’m leaving early.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No, thanks.”

“Right.”

Baekhyun shuffles towards his car, fidgeting with the keys. A beat passes and he turns back to Taeyong.

“Look, sorry I ghosted you this week,” he says. “I’ve been busy lately and—”

“It’s not a big deal,” Taeyong cuts him off. “It’s fine.”

“Taeyong…” Baekhyun gnaws his lip. It came out more pleading than he’d calibrated. Taeyong is warily expectant. “Nevermind. Goodnight.”

“What were you going to say?”

“Why don’t we continue this conversation in the car?”

Taeyong looks the other way, weighing Baekhyun’s offer. Then he’s walking past Baekhyun towards his car. “Alright, let’s get going then.”

The ride is silent during the first minutes. After the third light, Taeyong shifts in his seat and finally speaks.

“Why didn’t you go home with Sehun?”

Baekhyun is somewhat glad that Taeyong said Sehun instead of boyfriend. It puts him on edge all the same. The tone Taeyong uses is too strained to be offhand, devoid of the usual warmth and familiarity.

In a way it’s what he deserves. Baekhyun heaves a sigh.

“He dumped me,” Baekhyun reveals. “And left with another guy.”

Taeyong chuckles in disbelief. “Good for him.”

“I saw you talking to Joy after the Vogue photoshoot,” Baekhyun mentions. Heat prickles his neck because that feeling of being exposed returns. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” Taeyong says.

It takes all of Baekhyun’s willpower to keep his eyes on the road and his surprise from showing on his face.

“Really?”

“We started dating when I was a senior in college and she was a freshman,” he elaborates. “We broke up almost two years ago.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“Didn’t seem relevant,” Taeyong says, shrugging. “We’re still good friends and my mom still hopes that we’ll get married someday.”

Baekhyun grips the wheel tighter than necessary. “Maybe your mom knows something you don’t.”

“I doubt it.” Another prolonged silence. Then Taeyong asks, “So are you going to tell me why you ghosted me? And don’t blame it on work again.”

“You know why.”

Baekhyun’s answer is a hair’s breadth above a whisper. Taeyong hears it because he stares at Baekhyun’s profile and looks down at his lap a moment later.

“You said we could still be friends.”

There isn’t an answer to that. Baekhyun drives, passes a car and takes the opposite turn from the route to Taeyong’s home.

“I see the way you look at me,” Taeyong declares. “You think I can’t tell but I do. And yet you keep pushing me away.”

A certain cold pressure compresses Baekhyun inside. This conversation is the last he wants to have. And Taeyong sounds possessed by an unstoppable determination.

“How do I look at you?”

“Like you want this too.” Taeyong peers at Baekhyun and angles his chin with defiance. “Why would you care about Joy if it wasn’t true? Why would you take me on all those dinners, those drives? At least tell me I’m wrong so I can forget about it.”

Baekhyun pulls over to the side of the road. Taeyong is staring at him, silent and attentive to his every movement. There is no escaping the truth anymore.

Frustration has simmered down in Taeyong’s expression to a despairing surrender. In his eyes, however, a frail trace of hope remains—and it’s that Baekhyun clings to like a boat in a storm. All the yearning Baekhyun has pushed down during all these months surges to the surface until he’s brimming with it in the single second it takes him to move across the console.

Taeyong tastes of champagne and peppermint. A sharp intake of breath ghosts over his lips when Baekhyun pulls back. This respite only lasts for half a second because Taeyong’s fingers settle over his nape to draw him back in and kiss him again. Baekhyun fists Taeyong’s shirt, drunk on the yearning and longing poured over the kiss. Everything they had bottled up all this time flowing out at last. Taeyong’s nose brushes his cheek, his lips dragging over his skin there. His exhale breaks into a titter and Baekhyun smiles, giddiness exploding in his chest like a balloon.

Taeyong’s smile is blinding, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Baekhyun caresses his hair and cups his cheek. The need to kiss him again is intense, overpowering, but they’ve already done enough for the night.

“Let’s get you home,” he says. “I gotta get up early tomorrow morning.”

Taeyong seems to be vibrating with happiness. Baekhyun grins and grasps his knee. They should talk about this. Taeyong is dying to ask, he can tell, but they come to a silent agreement not to taint this moment.

Taeyong fits his palm over the back of his hand. For a second, just for a second, Baekhyun dares to believe everything will be fine.

Work separates them that week. Delight is preparing to launch a summer-themed collection and Baekhyun has been holed up in his office to finish up details on sketches and make last-minute decisions about fabrics. For this line the brand ventures into accessories, which Baekhyun is most excited about. The success of his photoshoot with IU has granted him a confidence boost to model the designs from the new collection.

Taeyong goes to the office some days and maintains his usual professional distance. He doesn’t wait around for Baekhyun to go home together in case somebody catches on. They text in the times they don’t see each other. One night, Taeyong facetimes him in the middle of his bedtime routine, and unsurprisingly, he falls asleep an hour into the call. Baekhyun doesn’t want to end the call so he watches him sleep for a while, imagining how it’ll be to see this in real life.

When.

Baekhyun sleeps with a smile that night.

Friday evening the team goes for drinks after having finished an excruciating week at work. It’s been a week and a half since that time in Baekhyun’s car. A quiet euphoria thrums through him every time their gazes meet across the table. They finally have an excuse to be under the same roof in a casual event and go home together unnoticed.

Drunk as a bucket, Nayeon and Chaeyoung are the last to leave. Baekhyun helps them into a cab amid cackles and shrieks that they’re going to see him the next morning, even though it’s a Saturday.

Chaeyoung shouts “Goodnight, boss!” from the open window of the cab before it takes off down the road. Taeyong pretended to leave earlier. They’d agreed beforehand that he would be waiting in Baekhyun’s car. Taeyong has a gorgeous, blinding smile, which is directed only at Baekhyun right now as he turns on the engine and puts the car in drive.

“So where are we going?”

“I was thinking we could drive for a while before I take you home,” Baekhyun says. “Or is there somewhere you wanna go?”

Baekhyun has an inkling of what Taeyong wants. But he wants him to be the one who says it.

“Can we go to your place?” Taeyong asks, sheepish. “Maybe we can order takeout and watch a movie or something...”

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” Taeyong chuckles. “I just wanna spend some time with you.”

Traffic is scarce at this late hour, so he’s nearing his building in no time. Taeyong has been talking about this new group he just discovered and he’d played their songs for Baekhyun. There is an absolute certainty within him that, going ahead, he would associate this particular memory with that song. Taeyong’s hand is on his own knee, so Baekhyun grabs it and laces their fingers together.

Taeyong goes quiet, observant in the garage. Baekhyun tries to alleviate some of his nerves by wrapping his arm over his middle and engaging him in conversation.

“So what do you want to eat?” Baekhyun asks in the elevator. “Don’t say ‘you’.”

“That was such a corny joke.” Taeyong laughs, scrunches his nose. Baekhyun wants to kiss him so badly. “You’re not old enough to be making dad jokes.”

“And when will I be old enough to be making them?”

Baekhyun remembers that Junmyeon is a fan of making dad jokes that managed to crack up Sehun no matter how bad they were. It’s such a sideways thought. Maybe they were a good pair all along.

“Past forty maybe,” Taeyong says, offhanded. “But I’ll tell you when you get there.”

Unexpectedly, he likes the idea of Taeyong thinking there is a future for them. Coming from any other guy would put him off, but in this case it’s different. It sends millions of butterflies fluttering in his ribcage as if he was a teenager instead of a full-fledged adult.

They alight at his floor some moments later. Taeyong has retreated into silence again, this time a sort of calm quietness. Baekhyun keys in his code and lets them into the apartment. Baekhyun slips off his shoes and drops his leather bag on the couch while Taeyong takes the space in with unconcealed curiosity.

“Your place is fucking huge.”

Baekhyun laughs, shrugging off his coat. “I picked it for the view. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Taeyong wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the skyline glints amber in the purplish black like a swarm of fireflies on a field. Baekhyun ambles to the kitchen for a glass of water and watches Taeyong’s ghostly reflection loom in the dark of night.

They eat Chinese takeout in pajamas on the couch. Luckily, he and Taeyong are more or less the same size so he lent him one of his pajamas. No one, not even himself, would comprehend the thrill it gave him to see Taeyong wearing his clothes, more so the way that oversized shirt makes him look comfy and adorable. Baekhyun just wants to cuddle him.

“Can I make breakfast tomorrow?”

The question breaks a lull. Baekhyun raises his brows.

“Of course,” he says, “if that’s what you want. But I’ll warn you, I’m not a morning person. You’ll have to wake me up somehow.”

Taeyong’s cheeks color right as Baekhyun understands the unintentional implication. Instead of clarifying, he lets the shift in the air sit.

“Well, I’ll find a way,” Taeyong says, playful. “I could always pour water on you.”

“I would never invite you into my home again.”

“How do you like your eggs?”

“You’ll have to guess,” Baekhyun taunts. Taeyong chuckles and scoots over to his side of the couch. Taking the hint, Baekhyun drops his arms. Taeyong parks his ass on his lap, his palms draped over his shoulders. Months of daydreaming don’t hold a candle to the real thing: the weight of Taeyong on him, the waft of his aftershave, the dip at the base of his throat when Baekhyun clutches his hips.

“Guess I’ll have to cook every type until I find out,” Taeyong murmurs. It’s meant to be flippant, but the sentence carries the promise of something else. It sinks like an anchor in Baekhyun’s chest.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Baekhyun says. Taeyong smiles, small and precious, and dives to capture his mouth. It’s their second kiss and it’s infused with all the desire that built in almost a week since the first. Restraint is not on the table; tongues seek each other, hands grip muscle and hair. Taeyong’s breathing is uneven, his mouth a slick red and his irises blown. “Baekhyun, I...”

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Baekhyun assures him softly. “We can just sleep.”

Taeyong groans and sways his hips resolutely. The press of his half-hard dick against Baekhyun’s abdomen punches the air out of his lungs.

“Are you kidding me?” Taeyong chuckles. “I’ve been fantasizing about this for so long… touching myself thinking of this moment…”

“Have you ever…?”

“I’ve hooked up with guys,” Taeyong explains. Defensiveness raises his voice a pitch. It amuses Baekhyun. “So it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. I’m twenty-six.”

Baekhyun kisses Taeyong’s nose. “Such a grownup.”

In the bedroom their clothes are off in record time. Taeyong kisses him deeply and, wordlessly, kneels down in front of him. The view is breathtaking. He looks up at Baekhyun from under his eyelashes, painstakingly coy. With his palms on Baekhyun’s thighs, he leans forward and licks the tip of Baekhyun’s dick, trapping it easily between his lips.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun gasps. Taeyong blinks large, mild eyes at him. The unspoken request is plain. He digs into Taeyong’s hair to root him in place and nudges his pelvis back and forth with the utmost gentleness. It’s hard to restrain his movements; Taeyong’s mouth is warm and inviting, and he swallows around him with zeal. Eventually, the tightness in his gut threatens to snap and he pulls Taeyong back by his chin. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“Thanks.” Standing, he pushes Baekhyun to the bed and climbs over him. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

There are tattoos marked over the milky-white canvas of Taeyong’s body. Baekhyun has caught glimpses of them in person and on Taeyong’s instagram. It’s like stumbling upon a treasure, in particular the small tattoo of a bee over Taeyong’s right hipbone, illustrated in minimalistic circles over a hint of yellow, that was unknown to Baekhyun until presently. The rest of Taeyong is just as alluring. He’s on the skinny side, all wiry muscles and sharp corners, with the exception of an endearing portion of his abdomen that sags. Drool collects at the back of Baekhyun’s mouth at the sight of his dick, large and pinkish, curved over it.

“You know, you could take a picture.” Taeyong grasps Baekhyun’s shoulders. “It may last longer.”

Watching Taeyong fuck himself on his fingers until he’s shivering and whimpering, his pupils blown out, without touching him is nearly impossible. Impatience gets the better of Taeyong in the end because he doesn’t take the appropriate time to prep and he’s straddling Baekhyun’s thighs to line him up, letting the tip of his dick rub over his entrance first like the proper tease he is.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” Baekhyun murmurs, tracing Taeyong’s outline. He bites on his right nipple and Taeyong’s giggle swerves to a sharp inhale.

“Serves you right,” Taeyong says, right before he sits on Baekhyun.

Taeyong plunges for an open-mouthed kiss, effectively swallowing the gasp that escaped from Baekhyun the second he’s fully sheathed inside him. There’s an interval where they just kiss, a pretext for Taeyong to prepare to move. In a slow, drawn-out motion, he pulls himself up and descends on him without a respite. He experiments with small rotations of his hips, back and forth, until he settles on an up-and-down pace that accelerates promptly.

Wondrous is short to describe the way Taeyong uses his shoulders for leverage to fuck himself on his dick. Taeyong has screwed his eyes shut, emitting high-pitched little noises that daze Baekhyun with their desperation. Veins protrude in his neck with the strain of his moans, his dick slapping over his abdomen with every bounce. He switches between rocking back and forth, urgent, and a dawdling grinding, never quite settling in a single pace.

Baekhyun has never been a religious man, but he believes Taeyong was made to be worshipped. A temple he could lay his soul to and be glad with it. Tiredness takes over Taeyong in shudders, and in a swift motion, Baekhyun grips his thigh and flips their positions. Their bodies are not separated by a single inch; Taeyong latches on with his mouth and limbs, and Baekhyun gives in to him readily.

A strange burning settles in his chest at the gaze he catches on Taeyong. At times Taeyong’s nothing but an open book. But currently there is so much openness in his expression, a yieldingness, like he’s willing to surrender Baekhyun anything he wishes to take. And Baekhyun might—it’s startling and exhilarating to be aware of that power, and even more so of the implied knowledge that Baekhyun would grant him whatever he asks for as well.

All his senses are attuned to Taeyong: the tanginess of his moist skin, the chant of his name as the climax hits, his nails digging into his back. Baekhyun comes buried deep inside Taeyong, his teeth dug into his shoulder. They stay idly like that, him nestled in Taeyong’s neck and Taeyong’s trembling arms around his waist, recovering from their high. Cheesy lines like that was perfect or that was the most fucking amazing sex ever pile uselessly on his tongue. It’s not something Baekhyun’s used to; Sehun would light a cigarette or pick up a conversation from hours before in the interim to the second or third round.

Instead Baekhyun wheezes a laugh and nudges Taeyong’s cheek for a kiss. Lazy and sated and perfect. Taeyong laps at his teeth, his breathing gaining volume. The motion of his arm bumping into his front has Baekhyun peering down their bodies. Taeyong is hard in his fist again in an unbelievably short time.

“Oh my god,” Baekhyun laughs. “You’re truly fucking perfect.”

“Shut up,” Taeyong pants, without stopping. “This is all your fault.”

“I guess I should be flattered.”

Taeyong levels him a glare. Baekhyun drops a chaste kiss to his pout and crawls backwards to his navel. Just like Taeyong has been fantasizing, his wet dreams consisted of this very dick in his hold. Baekhyun swallows Taeyong’s load, relishing in the guttural noise that ruptures through his chest and the near painful tug in his hair.

“Oh fuck.” Taeyong is wracked by shivers. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

Baekhyun licks his lips. “So I’ve been told.”

They take a shower together, where Baekhyun fucks Taeyong against the wall. They come for the second and third time. Then they wash each other, a boneless Taeyong slumped against Baekhyun. Washed and dried, they slip naked under the covers and talk in whispers until sleep claims them.

In the morning, Taeyong cooks him scrambled eggs and pancakes. Baekhyun can’t hold back a smile at how domestic the scene is. It’s been years since somebody stayed the night to share breakfast the following morning, let alone cook him said breakfast.

Taeyong cuts his pancakes with a self-conscious demeanor. Since Baekhyun’s fridge is lacking in essentials, like honey or syrup, they had improvised with chocolate sauce for the topping.

“These are amazing,” Baekhyun says between mouthfuls. “You’re seriously husband material.”

“I don’t think we’re at the stage where you can tell me that,” Taeyong comments, not unkindly. Baekhyun chuckles around food. “But thank you.”

Despite his confidence, Taeyong’s ears have become a distinctive pinkish color. The early morning light flowing from the window haloes him, softening the sharpness of his features. Baekhyun wishes he could take a picture.

“So—” Taeyong clears his throat and tucks his hands between his thighs. There is a serious ring to his tone, so Baekhyun puts his fork down. “About us… Jongin told me you didn’t do serious relationships.”

Jongin and his big mouth. Baekhyun blinks, disconcerted. “You’ve asked him about me?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Taeyong strokes the column of his neck with his fingertips. “I just wanted to know about you.”

“Okay, he’s right,” Baekhyun admits. There is a but stuck somewhere in there that he can’t budge out. But I like you a lot. That fact perhaps is obvious at this point and Baekhyun is not exactly the type to do grand declarations of affection in his kitchen. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s not,” Taeyong mumbles. “Because we can’t really go around telling people about us, right? We’re not sure how Taemin would react to us together. So maybe we can just… get to know each other first. See where it goes.”

It’s an arrangement that works for him. Baekhyun is a proud workaholic. Work is first, personal life second. Which is why he prefers casual, non-committal relationships—it means less time and effort to spare. But Taeyong is the opposite of all the men in his past. Taeyong likes his company. Likes him for who he is, not his money or fame or position. And against his better judgement, Baekhyun wants him like he’s never wanted anything else; it just has to be his luck that he is his ex-boyfriend-slash-friend’s little brother.

Baekhyun is determined to have him in any capacity. The hours of sleep he’s lost to drive around the city with him in order to spend some time alone is a testament to that. If this is how Taeyong wants it to be, Baekhyun is not going to object.

“That’s fine by me,” he says in the end. He wolfs down the last of his pancake. “Now can we get to know each other some more in my bedroom?”

“I can’t believe you’re so corny,” Taeyong complains through a chortle. Baekhyun leans in to seize his chin with his thumb and forefinger. On his tongue he tastes coffee and chocolate. Taeyong’s blinking has gone sluggish after separation. “Maybe I’ll let that slip.”

Baekhyun grins triumphantly and dives in for another kiss that leaves Taeyong pliant and sweet as the sugar in his coffee.

Pretending to be uninterested in Taeyong at work has turned out to be harder than Baekhyun originally thought. They stick to their usual game of indifference in the office, but the thing that Baekhyun didn’t consider is what a distraction Taeyong can be. During creative meetings, Baekhyun finds himself engrossed in whatever he’s saying, shuffling closer just to touch arms or feel him close. One time he’d lingered on Taeyong’s laughing face and belatedly he’d noticed Nayeon giving him a funny look. Baekhyun had rolled his eyes at her and scurried away to do something else.

For a new photoshoot for the brand, Baekhyun takes Taeyong to a residential area in Gangnam to serve as background. There are only a few other people there—Nayeon, a makeup artist, and two stylists in the van where Baekhyun changes outfits. It gives them enough space to let their masks slip for a while and let themselves be, fooling around between shots and Baekhyun flirting openly with the person behind the camera instead of the camera itself. Even Taeyong, who remains professional and stoic during photoshoots, plays along with Baekhyun and laughs at his antics.

Taeyong shows him the pictures later that night in bed. Baekhyun can’t hold down a grin at how Taeyong has captured him. There are pictures of him in the middle of speaking to the staff or laughing with the stylists. Baekhyun surmises it’s Taeyong’s habit of capturing everything he sees, though the subject in each picture is evidently Baekhyun. He makes no comment on this or the flutter in his chest that it causes.

Baekhyun takes the camera to where Taeyong has snuck to the balcony to answer a call. Taeyong pretends to be flustered, sending bemused glances at the lens and a smile that borders on coy.

“What’re you doing?” Taeyong asks, once he’s finished with his call. “I’m the only one allowed to take pictures here.”

“You’re too pretty not to let yourself be pictured,” Baekhyun says, snapping a couple more shots. Taeyong pulls a funny face by flattening his lips and widening his eyes, obviously in contradiction of Baekhyun’s comment. Baekhyun giggles, then pouts, using puppy eyes that work on Taeyong like a magic trick. “C’mon, just for me, Pretty.”

Taeyong predictably blushes at that pet name. And because he’ll never allow Baekhyun get his way easily, he sighs, rolls his eyes, and ignores the kiss Baekhyun blows at him. “Alright.”

Slouching against the rail, he lets Baekhyun picture him. With the glittering skyline as background, he is breathtaking, sinfully enticing in nothing but an unbuttoned collar shirt and gym shorts that ride low on his hips.

The impromptu photoshoot session ends with Baekhyun pushing Taeyong to a lounge chair and removing his shorts so he can crouch between his knees without problem.

A charity gala gathers the rich and famous of Seoul in a single place. Baekhyun and Taeyong arrive separately and mingle in different groups, but they seek each other out across the room throughout the evening like two magnets pulled apart.

Baekhyun should’ve expected to see Lee Joongi there. Not even the years since their last encounter prepare Baekhyun for the shock of spotting the man chatting with a couple of chaebols and his boy by his elbow. The befuddlement is replaced by a tickle of resentment at the sight of him, fully clad in Burberry, brandishing his incandescent smile and his lover like a kid showing off a shiny new toy at the playground.

“Look at him.” Jongin tsks. “He’s the perfect personification of richness.”

Baekhyun chuckles. “It’s not his fault he’s fucking loaded.”

“Oh poor him,” Jongin retorts. “Must be awful to be so hot and rich that people flock to you like flies.”

“This is the meanest I’ve ever heard you speak of someone,” Baekhyun mentions. Jongin scoffs and sips his champagne. “I’m in awe.”

“Here comes your fanboy,” Jongin says, smiling over Baekhyun’s shoulder. Taeyong is making his way through the crowd and Baekhyun has to bite his tongue to not comment on how good Taeyong looks in his Ralph Lauren black suit. Baekhyun had helped him pick it. “I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t feel like third-wheeling tonight.”

Jongin slinks away before Baekhyun can whip out a comeback. All other thoughts take a backseat in favor of Taeyong’s smile plainly directed at Baekhyun.

“Hey, handsome,” Taeyong drawls, “you’re looking bored over here.”

“It hasn’t been a very fun evening,” Baekhyun says, “but it’s improved a lot now that you’re here.”

Taeyong studies Baekhyun from under his lashes, one end of his mouth quirked. “Maybe because you like me, Boss.”

These flirtatious attempts always succeed in making a mess of Baekhyun. Clumsy as they are, they’re ever so endearing—and delivered in Taeyong’s low, mellow voice, it is inconceivable for Baekhyun to be unaffected. It starts at the pit of his stomach, zinging his way up his spine to end at his chest, igniting a spark of fireworks that bloom behind his ribs.

“Who said I do?” Baekhyun ripostes. Taeyong emits a wonderful little titter. “I just like keeping you around because you take good pictures of me.”

“The great Byun Baekhyun,” a male voice says. “In the flesh.”

Lee Joongi strides over in that leisured, self-assured gait of his, his palms open at his sides. His smile is the worst of all, the same irresistibly charming, weak-in-the-knees kind of smile. In all his years in the industry, Baekhyun’s never met another man who exudes opulence and money like Joongi does. In retrospect, perhaps it was this that attracted Baekhyun to him.

In half a second, Baekhyun puts his luminous veneer back together again. “Hey, fancy meeting you here.”

“I saw you and I had to make sure it was you,” Joongi says. “You look good. Exquisite as ever. You looked spectacular in your Vogue pictorial”

Baekhyun forces out a laugh. It’s stilted and jarring to his ears. Taeyong’s presence is too real by his side. One glance confirms there is the slightest of frowns on the porcelain surface of his forehead as if he’s trying to suss something out.

“And you’re as honest as ever,” Baekhyun quips. Joongi laughs, regarding Taeyong for the first time. Baekhyun takes the opportunity to grasp his arm to steer them away to the farthest side of the room. “I should go greet some people. It was nice seeing you.”

“Nice seeing you too,” Joongi says. “Take care of yourself.”

“He’s hot,” Taeyong remarks once they’re out of earshot. Baekhyun lets out a huff. “You were with him in the past, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, a long time ago.” Baekhyun leads them to a secluded part of the crowd. “You should go back to your friends before…”

The rest of his sentence drifts in the air. Taeyong understands it by the way his mouth twists. “What happened between you and…?” Baekhyun traces the edges of his lips with his tongue to delay his reply. “I mean, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, we were together for a while,” Baekhyun replies with artificial disinterest. “Before Delight. He encouraged me to go ahead with it.”

Joongi is easygoing, a believer that anything is possible, that type of confidence forged in money. Baekhyun was edging twenty-eight and wanted more out of his career. Designing his own clothes had been a secret passion of his for a long time, and with Joongi’s convincing and generous funding, Baekhyun decided to give it a shot.

“The man has a good eye,” Taeyong opines. “It’s a proven success.”
“He didn’t stay around until the brand was formed,” Baekhyun explains, “because he dumped me for that twink hanging off his arm.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the pair. “Hope he’s squandering every penny off his credit cards.”

The bitterness leaves a tangy taste that the champagne can’t quite chase. It doesn’t escape Taeyong, it seems, for he surveys Baekhyun in an apparent effort to read something on him with the same kind of keenness he employs behind the camera. Baekhyun thwarts his attempts by faking a humorous chuckle and stepping out of his personal bubble.

“Meet you in my car in forty?”

“Make it thirty,” Taeyong says, coolly. “I’ll be with Mark in the meantime.”

Then he’s off to meet his precious, trust-fund cousin. Baekhyun’s left there musing about his sudden confidence, confused at first then amused about it, and he chuckles into his drink and saunters off to blend with the luxurious horde.

Baekhyun kept a couple of rules. The rules were mostly to keep his lovers from intruding in his work life and vice versa; he only sees them on weekends and there is rarely any conversation about work during their rendezvous.

With Taeyong, those rules went flying out the window. The first few weeks their meetings were restricted to weekends, but as time progressed, they expanded to weeknights if their schedules permitted. They also talk shop a lot; they talk about fashion, about Baekhyun’s designs, Taeyong’s collaborations, everything and anything related to the industry, just like they did before their relationship took a different turn. Somehow it feels like his self-control is slipping, but it’s easy to ignore it on nights when he’s buried deep inside Taeyong, his exhales labored, or the mornings that he wakes up to Taeyong snoring softly in his bed and a giddy contentment coats the rest of his day.

In hindsight, the first rule Baekhyun broke was letting Taeyong drive his car. That was the turning point from which there was no going back. Deep into the night Taeyong rides his car on deserted streets, then Baekhyun rides Taeyong in the backseat, fast and slow, veering left and right, just like he would his car. It started raining earlier and the windows are fogged with condensation, thick as the groans ripped out of Baekhyun’s throat with each thrust from Taeyong.

Taeyong likes taking his time. Likes working Baekhyun out until he is a blabbering, shivering mess. This time is no different: right as he’s edging closer to his orgasm, Taeyong maneuvers him onto his back and sinks back in to the hilt with ease.

“God, it’s so fucking good. You’re so fucking good.”

“You take me so good,” Taeyong whispers. Over time he’s figured out one of Baekhyun’s weaknesses is hearing him utter exactly that. And on cue, Baekhyun shivers, bucks down on instinct. “You love it when I tell you that, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I love your dick.” Baekhyun gasps at a sharp thrust. Taeyong is a tease in and out of bed. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

Taeyong laughs, a throaty, wonderful noise, and laps into Baekhyun’s slackened mouth. Baekhyun catches him by the nape for a proper kiss. The rhythm becomes messy as Taeyong grips his thighs with purpose and speeds his pace at last. Baekhyun arches his neck and screams.

They lie naked on the backseat, the leather stuck to their sweat-soaked skin. Baekhyun revisits Taeyong’s tattoos spread over his body. It’s one of his favorite hobbies: he points to a particular tattoo and Taeyong recounts the story behind it. A hand-drawn dog on the inside of his left arm (for his dog Ruby). Under and stand above each elbow (for understanding). A UFO beaming a teddy bear (a drunken bet). And there is the one that is a mystery: the small bee over his right hipbone. The tattoo in question is an exquisite, minimalistic drawing, possibly Baekhyun’s favorite—and it always, without fail, manages to clamp Taeyong up.

“It’s really cute.” Baekhyun traces its round lines. “Did it hurt to get it in that area?”

“Not really,” Taeyong answers with a diffident smile. “I was pretty high at the shop.”

Baekhyun prods, cautious. “Was it another bet?”

Taeyong’s head stirs a smidgen. “No, it was a gift. Couple tattoos. My ex got a fish because I had a pet fish back then, and he had a thing for bees.”

The fact that Taeyong revealed the meaning behind the tattoo is baffling in itself, but the pronoun is what makes Baekhyun pause. Taeyong is gauging his reaction, simultaneously honest and withholding.

“A couple tattoo,” Baekhyun hums. “Must’ve been a special guy.”

“He was.” Taeyong’s smile is rueful. “But it ended in tears, so…”

Baekhyun jumps to reassure, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, really.” Taeyong rubs his index under his nose. “I fell hard for him and some months later he told me he wanted to see other people. Turns out he was already seeing other people before he broke up with me.” A sigh as deep as the ocean. “He was the first guy who broke my heart. Breaking up with Joy didn’t affect me as much and we were together for years.”

There is a wistfulness in Taeyong’s voice that adds gravel to it. Baekhyun makes no mention of it, only plays with the fingers splayed over Taeyong’s breastbone. Even though Baekhyun prefers flings and one-night-stands, he’s no stranger to that melancholy. The months that succeeded his break-up with Taemin were tinted with a longing, perhaps because of the loss of that connection that since then he’d chalked up to youthful inexperience.

Conceivably, Taeyong missed his ex in the same way if the man was special enough to have a symbol of him tattooed on his body. Baekhyun perceives a similar connection with Taeyong, in the way they have attuned themselves to their quirks or those moments where they can read the other’s thoughts just from a single glance. Not that he would ever remark as much aloud.

“He sounds like an asshole,” Baekhyun jokes to lift the mood. Taeyong chuckles, brittle. “I don’t like him already.”

“He was funny and cute,” Taeyong says. “Guess I have a type.”

Taeyong only alludes to their relationship obliquely. Baekhyun doesn’t at all. They’ve never discussed the nature of it since that first breakfast. They like sleeping together and spending time together. They like each other. And that’s all that has mattered so far. But it’s in moments like these that the question mark appears, glowing an incandescent red overhead. Waiting to be acknowledged.

“Are you calling me cute?” Baekhyun flaps his lashes. Taeyong giggles. The base of his neck darkens. Just to be on the safe side, Baekhyun pinches Taeyong’s ass. Taeyong squeaks, jolting. “You have a cuter ass.”

“Your ass is a lot cuter,” Taeyong rebukes, grabbing a handful of it. They’re deflecting from the real discussion, that much is obvious. But that uncharted territory can be explored later. Right now Taeyong is sneaking two fingers between his cheeks and Baekhyun’s breathing is thinning with anticipation. “I love all the things it can do.”

Three fingers in. Baekhyun drops his forehead on Taeyong’s shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me any time soon?”

Taeyong wheezes through his nose and tucks his body between Baekhyun’s legs. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Streetlights, taillights, the roars of engines are the backdrop to their nightly adventures. The glow from the city strobes Taeyong as the car glides through the Seoulite streets, the tires whispering over the road, kissing his beauty in flashes.

That summer is the hottest in a decade, according to weather reports. Heat encroaches into the early June days, permeating the afternoons with unbearable humidity. The windows are down during their drives, Taeyong leaning over the frame to stick his head outside as they cruise over freeways. Baekhyun steals a few glimpses of the wind tousling his hair and wishes he could grab Taeyong’s camera to take a snapshot.

A camera is an ever-present companion to Taeyong as of late, either in his hold or hanging from his neck. Baekhyun is often caught off guard by a flash or the click of a shutter, and before the third shutter his model side takes over to strike poses, naked as the day he was born in the backseat of his car.

Baekhyun is used to being the center of attention. Living in the spotlight for so long, he’s grown accustomed to people flocking to him for his fame, his money, connections, or looks—and Baekhyun has become an expert of how to spot these people from miles away.

There is no need for pretenses with Taeyong. It’s easy in a way it’s baffling.

Their encounters aren’t determined beforehand; one texts the other first. They drive around until the early morning or straight to Baekhyun’s apartment in the nights their craving is uncontrollable—and the sex is mindblowing, it has them coming back for more. Other nights all they do is sleep if they’re too tired, and somehow it’s just as gratifying and entertaining to hang out without sex being the ultimate goal.

This shared secret is fun, reckless, as close to heaven as it can be. It is like a game of tag, two players caught in an eternal chase. Taeyong texts a time and place and the game is on again. Baekhyun thinks he’ll never get tired of playing it.

One Thursday night finds them at Baekhyun’s apartment. Taeyong is splayed on his stomach over the floor, watching a documentary about the earth that Baekhyun lost track of a while ago. He’s preoccupied with the primary results of a marketing project for a pop-up store in Tokyo, in case they can implement it for future purposes. The event is meant to attract local celebrities and media, with a special appearance by Baekhyun to promote it. Officially Baekhyun doesn’t have to go over every little thing that happens at Delight, but it is his brand, and he likes to have a hand on things.

On the floor, Taeyong yawns and rolls onto his back. The flimsy tank top he’s wearing exposes his navel. “What’re you working on?”

For the first time in an hour Baekhyun glances away from the screen of his laptop and zeroes on the smooth skin of Taeyong’s abdomen, the wiry muscles of his biceps flexing as he cushions his head. By the tiny curl of Taeyong’s kittenish smile, he’s aware he’s gotten Baekhyun’s attention.

“Marketing campaign for the Tokyo store.” Baekhyun perches his glasses on his forehead to rub his eyes. “Gotta see if it works.”

“You’re leaving next week, right?”

Baekhyun closes the lid of his laptop and leaves it on the floor. Taking the hint, Taeyong stands to plop down on his lap. He takes Baekhyun’s glasses and puts them on, blinking dazedly a couple times due to the magnification.

“Yeah, next week,” Baekhyun says. There is a pause, where he ruminates whether to pop the question that’s been burning him since he planned the trip. Would you like to go with me? Taeyong would say yes, he thinks. And it wouldn’t have to mean anything, they would be just having fun and taking a trip together…

“Are you taking Nayeon?” Taeyong places the glasses on his forehead and rubs Baekhyun’s earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. “She’s been giving me funny looks since she found out about us…”

Nayeon had discovered them accidently in the office. She had peeked at Baekhyun’s phone over the desk, unlocked to a selfie Taeyong had sent him minutes earlier. You’re fucking Taeyong, aren’t you?! Baekhyun had choked on his coffee and she’d had to thump on his back while he hacked.

“She’s annoying like that,” Baekhyun says fondly. “You can tell she likes you because she’d be making your life a living hell with jokes.”

“Does she do that to you?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun mutters. “She’s a nightmare.”

Taeyong laughs, tangling his fingers in Baekhyun’s hair. Lately he’s discovered it’s Taeyong’s favorite habit, to the point he does it unconsciously on occasions.

“I think she’s cool.” Taeyong puts the glasses back on Baekhyun and musses up his hair intentionally. “And I think you look really hot with glasses.”

“Didn’t you say earlier they made me look like a grandpa?”

“A hot grandpa,” Taeyong quips. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong explodes into a peal of giggles, squirming in his lap as Baekhyun leaves kisses over the column of his throat. “You’re tickling me!”

Baekhyun lingers at his jaw to breathe him in. Taeyong’s natural smell is intoxicating, comforting in a way that he can’t explain. Wrapping his arms around Taeyong, he lays him on his back over the length of the couch and lies between his legs.

“Why do you sniff me like a dog?”

“You smell nice,” Baekhyun says. “And you should take that as a compliment because I have a very sensitive sense of smell.”

“Okay,” Taeyong laughs, stroking Baekhyun’s hair. The wrinkle in the bridge of Taeyong’s nose puts an odd flutter in Baekhyun’s chest. “You smell nice too. Jo Malone, right?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun replies. Taeyong wears his Gucci perfume seldomly, so it is his own distinctive scent that drives Baekhyun crazy. Still, it would be weird to mention this so he tucks it under his tongue. “You like it?”

“It’s nice.” Taeyong has lowered his voice, tugging at the dip of Baekhyun’s shirt neck with a digit. “It stays on my clothes sometimes because you bathe in the thing.”

“No, I don’t,” Baekhyun chortles. Taeyong titters, mischievous, and Baekhyun can’t resist kissing his cheeks and the curve of his smile. “That’s blasphemy, I just really like the smell.”

Taeyong hums in agreement. There is a placid smile on his face, his eyes half-lidded but expressive as ever, sparkling like a couple of gemstones. Taeyong has Baekhyun’s Buried Alive sweatshirt on and a pair of tantalizingly small shorts. Nights like these are perfect in their unhurried and relaxed nature; Taeyong, cozy and pliant, willing to just spend time in his company. It would’ve never crossed Baekhyun’s mind that he would enjoy this type of domesticity.

That familiar tingle appears, difficult to ignore. Such a surreal thing to realize that he would do anything for this man who is utterly unaware of his power.

“Wanna go to Tokyo with me?”

Taeyong’s smile falters in tandem with Baekhyun’s heartbeat. “What? Going to Tokyo with you?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, breathless. “It would be nice… seeing the cherry trees. You’d get so many pictures. You need to see Roppongi Hills during sundown and… and…”

“Of course I’d like to go,” Taeyong says. “Wouldn’t miss a free trip with Boss Baekhyun for anything.”

“Cool,” Baekhyun says, releasing a breath. “Nice. Okay. I can’t wait to show you—”

“But what are we going to tell the others?”

Taeyong seems unsure. Baekhyun wanted to delay that conversation for as long as possible.

“We’re going there to work,” he says. “You’re one of my staff photographers anyway.”

“That makes sense,” Taeyong says. “Who’s gonna capture Boss doing his thing better than me?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Baekhyun says. It is also the truth, Taeyong has a way of capturing him that other people can’t replicate. “You’ll have to brace yourself for a lot of boring interviews.”

“Yeah, but you, room service and Japan.” Taeyong pecks him. “Kinda sounds excellent.”

A strong cocktail of anticipation and elation makes him lightheaded, spurred on by the sunshine radiating off Taeyong. “It does, doesn’t it?” He dips to kiss Taeyong properly and Taeyong wraps himself around him with the obvious intent of not letting him go.

The Tokyo trip lasts four days and three nights.

Taeyong snaps him in his suave persona chatting with the Japanese executives in charge of the pop-up store, interpreters included. Drinking champagne and charming the pants off of some local reporters. By the time they return to the hotel, Taeyong sheds off his clothes at the door and heads straight to the jacuzzi tub in their bathroom. Baekhyun could’ve never dreamed of better vacations.

Armed with his beloved Canon, Taeyong captures the cherry trees at a park and a jaw-dropping sunset at Roppongi Hills. They take a selfie together against the dusk, and when Taeyong isn’t looking, he snaps a picture of him shrouded in the rose-golden light.

In a cafe in Shinjuku, Taeyong shows off all the clothes and accessories he bought during their shopping spree to an enthusiastic Baekhyun. Taeyong loves fashion as much as he does, perhaps even more.

A bracelet hanging off Taeyong’s left wrist is familiar to Baekhyun when he rolls up his sleeve to try on another bracelet.

“Hey, that’s mine,” Baekhyun notes. “I mean it’s a Delight bracelet.”

Taeyong glances at his wrist and back at Baekhyun. “Yeah, I like it.”

The bracelet has a woven pattern with a capital ‘b’ dangling off it. Warmth surges within Baekhyun at the thought of Taeyong wearing something that reminds him of him. There is a shocking possessiveness that comes over him that he’s never acutely experienced before. The first time he saw Taeyong wearing a Delight shirt around his apartment gave a similar type of possessive emotion; he’d been wearing nothing else underneath and Baekhyun had it off him within minutes.

“Do you like,” Taeyong queries, “that I’m wearing something you made?”

Their chins are inches apart. There is only one other couple and a man reading from his iPad in the cafe. Sharing a chaste kiss feels a little dangerous, so they procure not to prolong it for the sake of being in public. It’s not a risk they would ever take in Korea.

Baekhyun caresses Taeyong’s nape and says, “I do like it very much.” Over the past weeks he’s come to find this is one of Taeyong’s weak spots—and sure enough his eyes have fallen to half-mast. He’s so much like a cat. “And I’m going to keep that in mind for future reference.”

Taeyong cocks his head, smiling coyly. “Are you going to make something for me?”

“Maybe,” Baekhyun says. “It’s not a surprise if I tell you.”

Taeyong squeezes his thigh under the table and leans in to whisper in his ear. “I wish I could suck you off right now, but we’ll have to wait until we get to the hotel.”

Baekhyun sucks in a breath at the spark of arousal that lights his guts. A giggle skates over his exhale, high and enlivened. Only Taeyong can get him like this in an impressively short time. “Let’s hurry up then.”

“You look tired,” a woman remarks. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Baekhyun rubs his lids with the pads of his fingers and twists in his folding chair. Joy is standing behind him, smiling tentatively.

“Hey, you.” He offers her a tired smile. “Yeah, I had to stay up late. Work.”

Although Baekhyun had to stay late revising sketches and contacting the suppliers, these are not all the reasons. Taeyong had napped curled up beside him on the couch, and later he’d convinced Baekhyun to follow him to bed through not-so-innocent means.

Since his return from Tokyo, he’d started brainstorming ideas for an attire he could design for Taeyong. It was during a shower together, while Taeyong stood under the spray, water running in rivulets over his naked body, that the idea came fully formed to him. Later at the office he’d run to his sketchbook to put down a rough draft, which he’s been working on for the past week during little pockets of free time.

Joy’s smile grows a hundred watts. She’s fidgeting with her fingers in a way that reminds him of Taeyong. It strangely endears him to her.

They’re at a photoshoot for Venia’s twenty-fifth anniversary. And that’s how he’d found himself with Joy in the same place. Since he’s started seeing Taeyong, he’s found out Joy is one of his closest friends, and ultimately, not the rival Baekhyun had senselessly conjured.

“Your brand is amazing, by the way,” Joy tells him. “Taeyong told me about it, so I checked it out. I really love your personal style. It’s very chic and trendy.”

“Thank you,” Baekhyun says. “I really like your personal style. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Joy says with a titter. Then they’re called up to the set and Joy has to touch up her makeup so she parts with a smile.

At the set, he finds Jongin already having his shots taken with Krystal. Once he’s done, he comes over to Baekhyun, sporting a friendly smile that he couples with a one-armed hug so as to not wrinkle his outfit or smear his makeup.

“It’s been so long,” Jongin says, squeezing his shoulder. “You’ve been MIA since you started boning a new guy.”

“Ugh, if we’re going to talk about my life—”

“Shut up, your life is not that interesting,” Jongin jests. Baekhyun laughs. “But you’ve abandoned us since you started seeing someone new.”

“No, work has been busy…” Jongin’s knowing smirk is infuriating. Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “And yeah, I am seeing someone new. Shut up. It’s none of your business because I’ll never introduce you.”

Baekhyun considers for a moment telling Jongin about Taeyong, just to see what his reaction would be, and also to alleviate some of the weight he’s been carrying for a while.

“You know, Taeyong interrogated me about your dating history a while ago.” Jongin’s chocolate eyes are fine lines. “Seemed a bit like he was interested. I teased him about it and he got so shy.” He snorts, slurps his americano. “Did he ever make a move on you?”

A smile snaps across his face at the mention of Taeyong. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, but he manages to tamp it down quickly. “I would never…”

The straw of Jongin’s americano slips out as he sucks in a sharp inhale. “Shut the fuck up, you and Taeyong?!”

“Jongin, shut up,” Baekhyun shushes him. Jongin’s palm flies to his mouth to muffle a giggle. He appears more amused than scandalized. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Can’t tell anyone about what?” a man suddenly questions. “Your new boyfriend?”

Baekhyun’s entire body freezes. Jongin unfurls a huge grin as Taemin wraps an arm around his waist and pats his shoulder. Baekhyun turns his head and Taemin smiles at him, letting go of Jongin to take a good look at Baekhyun.

“Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Taemin says, “I almost forgot what you look like.”

“I was telling him that he’s ditched us for the new guy,” Jongin says. “We haven’t gotten together in a month.”

Taemin appears clueless about their conversation. The trepidation brought on by his sudden arrival materializes like lead in his limbs and Baekhyun does his best to appear casual.

“We totally need to get drinks this week,” Baekhyun suggests, keeping this tone light. “The usual place?”

“Sure,” Jongin chirps. “You can invite your new boyfriend.”

Jongin is all too smug as he sips his americano, undeterred by Baekhyun’s glower. Taemin sizes them up, a funny look on his face.

“You want him all to yourself, don’t you.” Taemin bumps Baekhyun’s shoulder with his knuckles. “Must be somebody good. Or way young.”

“God, I hate you both.”

Taemin and Jongin explode into a chorus of laughter. Baekhyun wishes he could tell Taemin right then and there that he’s seeing his brother, that he likes him—that possibly it’s more than like—and everything would be instantly okay. No skeletons in the closet, no cat in the bag.

Courage mounts within him as he stares back at Taemin. They’re friends. There are years and history between them. He, more than anyone, should know. I’m going to do it.

Then Taemin is called to take pictures with some veteran models. He parts with a delicate touch to Baekhyun’s shoulder and a promise to speak later. The pent-up tension leaves him in a long exhale.

“Wow, it looked like you were going to pee yourself,” Jongin taunts. “I cannot believe you’re banging your ex-boyfriend’s little brother. This is rich.”

“First of all,” Baekhyun says sternly, “promise me you won’t tell Taemin. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Of course not.” Jongin’s chuckle is incredulous. “Not to scare you or anything, but he’s going to go nuts. Taeyong is like his baby. And you are… well.”

“What?”

“You do have that boytoy reputation,” Jongin says, somewhat apologetic. “Your sugar daddy literally funded your brand.”

“It’s different,” Baekhyun provides, “with Taeyong. We’re not really dating yet… but I like him.”

The ice cubes slush in Jongin’s cup in the unnerving seconds he studies Baekhyun pensively. Maybe evaluating the earnestness in his tone.

“What?”

“I’m just wondering how Taeyong managed to crack through that shell of yours,” Jongin says. “It’s not very like you to say it’s different with a guy. Or that you like him for that matter. Not since… well, Taemin.”

“We’ve just started to get to know each other,” Baekhyun cavaliers. “So it’s not… I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Bet you guys look so cute.” Jongin squeaks with adoration. “He was so cute that time, asking about you.”

Baekhyun screws his mouth to tamp down a grin. “He is cute.”

“Look at the way you’re smiling!” Jongin’s shriek gathers a couple of stares from stylists in the vicinity. Baekhyun is dragged into a hug that he reluctantly accepts. “You have my full support but—” Jongin yanks Baekhyun back to stare at him severely. “Don’t play with him. I’m not just saying it for Taemin.”

“Alright, alright,” Baekhyun mutters, breaking free. “Jesus, do I really have such a terrible reputation?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Jongin says, “but you used to change fuck buddies every other week. It’s not like I’m exaggerating here.”

None of those men ever truly cared for Baekhyun though. The difference has been becoming clearer and clearer, like wiping a dirty window for the first time in ages—the way he and Taeyong care for each other is different than how all those men in his past treated Baekhyun.

“You got me there,” Baekhyun admits. Jongin laughs. “I can’t say I didn’t have fun, but with Taeyong… it’s nice in a different way.”

“God, stop, I can’t stand you being so cute.” Jongin flicks his forehead and Baekhyun huffs. Their names are called for more shots. Taemin is beckoning them from the monitor, frowning with suspicion. Baekhyun wishes, against his better senses, that Taemin could read his mind so he would be able to skip the task of telling him.

Taeyong’s birthday lands right at the turn of the seventh month.

Mark throws a small party for the occasion with all their acquaintances in attendance. Jongin, of course, doesn’t miss the chance to poke fun. Maybe you could confess everything to Taemin there, he texts him that week. Baekhyun replies with a series of poop emojis like the adult he is.

The party is crawling with people. The throng is composed of young, beautiful individuals, exactly the kind Baekhyun would expect at a party by a twenty-year-old vlogger: influencers, models, aspiring actors and musicians, indie photographers-slash-artists and other trust-fund babies. And there are also various types of alcohol everywhere. Not long after their arrival, Taemin and Jongin are coerced by Lucas, a stunning model, to smoke pot. Baekhyun leans against a wall with his vodka and feels very old.

Taeyong has been with his friends all night, laughing loudly over chaotic drinking games and badly enacted impressions. Baekhyun observes him from a distance, enraptured to see him in this light: an unruly twenty-seven-year-old, tipsy and carefree, caught up in the madness. Their eyes meet across the room just once and Taeyong returns an amiable smile to Baekhyun’s reserved nod. A guy Baekhyun doesn’t recognize has been hanging off Taeyong’s shoulders throughout the evening. Tall, boyishly handsome, killer smile. The little green monster peeks its head, and ironically, it makes him feel juvenile.

During a bathroom break, there is a rasp on the door. Taeyong shoves past Baekhyun without ceremony and closes the door behind him. Since it’s the first time they have been alone all night, they lunge at each other almost at the same time: Baekhyun pushes Taeyong against the door and kisses him with the urgency of a dying man. The tangy taste of alcohol and smoke mingle behind Taeyong’s teeth, a combination that shouldn’t be this enticing.

“You’ve been staring at Jaehyun all evening,” Taeyong comments between kisses. “He’s harmless.”

“I was not staring at anyone,” Baekhyun lies, biting Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong hisses and grips Baekhyun’s ass firmly. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

Taeyong snorts. “You’re possessive. I know you.”

Baekhyun never was the possessive type—that is, until this thing with Taeyong happened. But it only serves to propel his desire for him, to mark and make him his in all ways allowed. And by the smile on his beautiful face, Taeyong enjoys it as much as he does.

That particular topic dangles on a dangerous line. There is the implication of something larger and much more poignant: what they are not. They’re not official. There is no claim on one another as far as the rest of the world is concerned, but it very much exists in secret. They had agreed to get to know each other; nothing more, nothing less. What he’s gleaned from all these months together is that he’d like to kiss Taeyong for a long time. Maybe forever. But it’s not something he can utter aloud while he’s unsure of how Taeyong feels—if he is anywhere close to this emotional minefield of his. And as long as there is an older brother in the equation who may kick his ass, it’s better to keep it under wraps.

“You’re imagining things,” Baekhyun jokes. Taeyong pulls at his lower lip in reprimand. Baekhyun moans, tangles his hand in Taeyong’s hair and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket. Baekhyun has half a mind to ignore it, but Taeyong escapes, alerted by the noise, and chuckles at Baekhyun’s nose bumping into his cheek.

“Your ass is vibrating.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Baekhyun licks his jaw. “I’ll just ignore it.”

“Might be important.” Taeyong dabs at the saliva over his upper lip. Baekhyun sees red at being interrupted. “I gotta go back anyways.”

“It’s probably not—” Baekhyun freezes at the message on his notifications. Where a r u, a text from Jongin reads. Taemin is looking for TY. “Shit. You gotta go, Taemin is looking for you.”

Taeyong’s eyes triple in size. “Oh shit.”

The hallway is spared by the party downstairs. “I’ll see you later,” Taeyong promises. Then he grabs Baekhyun by the nape to steal one last kiss and darts towards the stairs.

Taeyong balks at the landing, staring down at someone. Taemin ascends into view in the steps and Baekhyun’s heart, that had been thumping sprightly, stops dead. Dread hooks its fangs in his spine at being found out. Taemin grins at the two of them, a slight frown knitting his eyebrows.

“What are you two doing here?” Taemin traps Taeyong by the elbow. “I was looking for you!”

“I ran into Baekhyun outside the bathroom,” Taeyong stutters over the last word. “We lost track of time talking.”

“What about?”

“Uh, we were talking about…” Baekhyun’s brain has short-circuited. “About this thing…”

“Baekhyun wants to get a tattoo!” Taeyong looks to him for help. “He was asking me for advice because it’s his first time.”

“A tattoo of what?”

“Uh…” His communication skills just had to fail him now. “Naruto.”

“Naruto?!” Taemin barks a strident laugh that has Taeyong and Baekhyun joining. “Where are you getting it? Over your butt?”

“I’m not going to get a tramp stamp,” Baekhyun says. “I’m not that big of a slut.”

Taemin breaks into another peal of laughter as he ambles over to hug Baekhyun. He reeks of liquor and weed, but Baekhyun is unable to pull away. Taeyong is observing the exchange with no hidden degree of amusement.

“Baekhyunnie is so chatty,” Taemin says, poking Baekhyun’s cheek. “So cute, so handsome. Remember when you had a crush on him, Taeyongie?”

“God, Taemin, shut up!” Taeyong whines loudly. Baekhyun is stunned. A flushed Taeyong pulls at his brother’s arm, who stumbles partly out of Baekhyun’s embrace. “Let’s go! You’re wasted!”

“You better not be making moves on my baby brother.” Taemin wags a finger at Baekhyun. It’s funnier than it is menacing; Taemin can barely enunciate correctly, but it does unnerve Baekhyun. “Baekhyunnie here is too hard to resist! He’s so pretty and charming—look at him!”

Baekhyun cackles in a jittery combo of nerves and relief. “You’re pretty too, Taeminnie!”

Taeyong’s preoccupied with leading his brother downstairs. Taemin shouts, “No, you’re prettier, Baekhyunnie!”

Around one in the morning, Baekhyun and Taeyong sneak out to go home. Taemin had climbed into a cab with Jongin twenty minutes after that scene outside the bathroom.

“You had a crush on me, huh?” Baekhyun teases in the car. Taeyong groans, head low, and Baekhyun laughs. “It’s fine, it’s cute!”

“It was a stupid crush in high school.” Taeyong folds his arms over his torso. “And anyways, you were flirting with my brother. You have no right to tease me about this.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Baekhyun is baffled by the accusation. Taeyong is visibly biting down a smile. “He was off his face and I was playing along… You’ve seen how he gets sometimes.” He cracks a taunting grin as Taeyong doesn’t budge. “Is Taeyongie jealous?”

Taeyong scoffs and slouches in his seat like a five-year-old. “Just shut up and drive.”

Baekhyun snickers and does as told. Not long into their drive, he notices Taeyong has grown silent, nibbling on his thumbnail and bouncing his left knee.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just… Taemin,” Taeyong replies, shifty. “You know, back at the house… He’ll probably forget in the morning.”

Baekhyun taps his right thumb against the steering wheel. “We were close.”

“I was wondering,” Taeyong continues, “when we’re going to tell him.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun whispers. “Maybe we should wait some more. I know he was joking, but his reaction wasn’t… very encouraging.”

Taeyong sighs, rubbing his right temple. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The air is charged with unfinished words, the stiffness in Taeyong’s shoulders remains, but for now, the topic feels settled. To lighten the mood, Baekhyun asks him, “Wanna guess your birthday present?”

Taeyong relaxes at the question. And for the sake of playing along, he glances at Baekhyun’s crotch pointedly.

“No, it’s not my dick!” Baekhyun cackles at the top of his lungs. Taeyong loses it in the passenger seat. “But if you want it to be… I think that could be arranged.”

“I have been thinking about getting you alone all night,” Taeyong admits. The alcohol always procures him with a high dose of honesty that is all too amusing. “So it might as well be your dick.”

There is an Alexander Wang jacket in a gift box waiting on Baekhyun’s couch. Baekhyun had spied Taeyong perusing it on his phone two weeks ago and bought it for him the next day. His reaction to the present excites him more than the possibility of getting him naked—not like the fact Taeyong has apparently fantasized about it all evening isn’t incredibly hot.

“You like it that much, huh?”

No response. Baekhyun looks over and finds Taeyong dozing in the seat, his neck tipped to the side. It is such a familiar image, Baekhyun laughs to himself, because of course he would fall asleep right now. Careful not to wake Taeyong, he reaches over to caress his cheek gently and returns to the road to continue the trip home.

July passes in a blur of meetings and preparations for a new accessory collection. Taeyong is the first to see his sketches for a collection of bags, leather and nylon, with the vibrant elegance and simplicity that’s become the brand of Delight. Taeyong lands a second photoshoot with Vogue and a third one at W, with talks of a permanent collaboration with the latter. If he were to get it, he would become the youngest photographer to obtain a collaboration there.

August means walking along the Han river to enjoy the breeze and have a small picnic late at night to avoid being spotted by other couples. August is covering themselves up to go to galleries of artists that Taeyong likes and listening to all of his obscure tidbits about the works. It means missing most of a movie at the drive-in to have sex in the backseat. It means Taeyong cooking dinner at his apartment and getting drunk on expensive wine that he spills over his clothes during a makeout session in the kitchen.

So far Baekhyun has been content with everything he has achieved in life, but Taeyong has shown him there is more out there he’s been missing out on. Those realizations settle into him every night as Taeyong’s earrings are twinkling in the darkness of his car or he is singing under his breath to a song playing on the radio. It is there over the pages of his sketchbook where he’s penciled Taeyong down to the last detail instead of possible attires.

Sometimes he looks at his pictorials that Taeyong shot for Vogue, and remembers the undiluted want in Taeyong behind the lens. More than anything, he wishes he could learn to let his guard down for him.

In late August, Baekhyun takes a vacation for the first time in years. Nayeon doesn’t hide her shock. Fiji is the place he picks, because he’s always wanted to visit but has never had a chance. And it’s the perfect time of the year to travel accompanied.

Taeyong frowned first with unconcealed wariness, perhaps thinking Baekhyun was pulling his leg. “Really?”

“Sure,” Baekhyun says. “You ever been before?”

Taeyong’s star earring jiggles with the shake of his head. The edges of his mouth curl up—slow at first, then all at once. He crawls over to Baekhyun and straddles his lap. Those doe eyes sparkle with wonder and disbelief.

“I can’t believe we’re going on a vacation,” Taeyong says. “To freaking Fiji.”

Baekhyun kisses Taeyong’s cheek. “Why’d you make me feel like a sugar daddy when you say it like that?”

Taeyong flushes, laughter spilling out of him like music. Then he throws his arms over his shoulders to kiss him and Baekhyun forgets entirely about whatever he was doing before.

It’s a rainy, dreary affair the morning they depart for Fiji. Over the island the sky is a clear cerulean mirrored on a crystalline ocean, the sand under his feet white and soft. Blue and white and green wherever he looks.

The temperature is balmy and mild, a fresh breeze rising from the waves to placate the unbearable heat. The mornings are spent strolling through the markets in swim trunks and flip flops, and the afternoons are for exploring the white-sand beaches along the Coral Coast. They get a tan on their third day at the beach. A wet and tanned Taeyong is a mesmerizing thing, but after he falls asleep on a towel, worn down by the sun, it is the unguarded softness of his sleeping form that is distracting. Baekhyun snaps a dozen pictures of him and sets the best one as his lock screen to show him later.

During the walks along the beach, Taeyong captures their surroundings with a Nikon film camera. (Baekhyun had teased him for this and Taeyong had gone into a lengthy rant about the attributes of shooting with film and digital). At some point Taeyong hands him the camera and runs towards the shoreline, chasing off a flock of birds that spring into flight upon his approach.

Taeyong’s tank top leaves most of his tattoos uncovered. As his muscles move under his back, Baekhyun has the brief, illogical wish to see his name tattooed over that pale skin.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Baekhyun grins and snaps another shot of Taeyong. “You.”

“Me?” There are two adorable half-moons behind Taeyong’s rose-tinted shades. The wind flips his faded purple strands all over. “Did you make me look bad?”

“You’d never look bad,” Baekhyun says. “You could’ve been a model, y’know.”

“Sooyoung always told me that,” Taeyong says. “But I’ve never felt as comfortable in front of the camera as I feel behind it.”

Park Sooyoung. Joy. Baekhyun remembers all the pictures of her on Taeyong’s instagram. She was probably modeling for him as a favor to expand his portfolio.

“Baekhyun,” Taeyong prompts, “can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” Baekhyun drawls. “I won’t tell you how I like my eggs.”

“No, it’s not that—” Taeyong is interrupted by a golden retriever that comes bounding up, barking up a storm. Taeyong squeaks with glee and hunkers down on the sand to play with the dog, who leans over him to lick his face. Baekhyun captures the entire moment until the dog runs back to its owner.

“What did you wanna ask me?”

The question comes out in a gasp. Taeyong’s mouth has gone slack with Baekhyun’s last thrust, his pupils blown with lust, his cheeks rosy with exertion. Baekhyun decelerated his pace maddeningly slow to speak and now Taeyong, with one fist on the pillowcase and the other in Baekhyun’s hair, is peering at him with an impatient frown.

“What?”

“You wanted to ask me something,” Baekhyun asks breathlessly. “At the beach yesterday.”

Another deep thrust. Taeyong tips his head back with a groan that transforms into a wheeze. His nose is wrinkled. That burn is back in Baekhyun’s lungs, like he can’t get enough air inside. “Why’re you asking me now?”

“I was curious,” Baekhyun says, pushes in again. Taeyong whines. “So are you gonna tell me?”

“Make me come,” Taeyong retorts, “and maybe I’ll tell you, Boss.”

Baekhyun grins. “Challenge accepted.”

Fifty minutes later Taeyong saunters around the room with his iPad and a towel hanging loosely around his hips. Baekhyun observes him from the bed in a bathrobe, towel-drying his hair and drinking a coke zero.

“So are you going to tell me?”

Taeyong lifts one eyebrow. “Are you still on about that?”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Baekhyun bleats. “You promised you would if I made you come and I did! You can’t take it back.”

“You know,” Taeyong sits at a chair by the windows, “it’s not healthy to have coke for breakfast.”

Baekhyun sits by Taeyong’s feet with his phone and coke zero. The breeze from the sliding doors is cool on his heated skin.

“To have what? Because I did have your cock for breakfast.”

“I said coke.” Taeyong pulls at Baekhyun’s ear. He bursts into peals of laughter and Taeyong pushes his knees together as a preventive measure. “Your brain is a gutter.”

Taeyong is enraptured by what he’s reading on his tablet. Baekhyun pries his legs open and rests his cheek against the inside of Taeyong’s thigh. The swell of Taeyong’s lower lip is slick and red, caught under his front teeth. Baekhyun marvels, for the nth time, at how pretty he is. Pretty is such an overvalued word, particularly in his line of work—anyone with the appropriate facial structure can be pretty. It doesn’t feel quite right. But Taeyong embodies the word perfectly for Baekhyun. His pretty nose, his pretty eyes, the pretty, almost sinful dip of his cupid’s bow.

There is that burn in his sternum again. This time it’s like his heart has halted to a gradual thumping, barely there, but strong, lively, desperate. I think I love you. He’s on the verge of blurting it out, can feel it skipping down the slope of his tongue, were it not for Taeyong putting his iPad aside and stretching his arms until his back pops.

“What if we stay in this morning?” Taeyong suggests, burying his fingers in Baekhyun’s hair. “We can watch some Ghibli movies…”

“We did that in Japan.”

“You’ve not watched all of them, by far,” Taeyong protests. The fingers move down to cup his cheek. Taeyong doesn’t even have to try hard, Baekhyun will comply with any of his whims.

They fall asleep with Ponyo on. An hour later Baekhyun wakes up while Taeyong is still dozing by his side. He flicks Taeyong’s bangs aside, holds the side of his face and caresses his cheekbone with his thumb. Unavoidably, he thinks back on the question Taeyong’s been guarding, and reproaches himself for harboring the tiniest of hopes that it may be the same thing that’s had him tossing and turning as of late.

For the last week he’s been working himself up to ask Taeyong the question, the very question that will set him free: would you like to be my boyfriend for real? But being the coward that he is, it’s taking him longer than he’d calculated. He planned it to happen during this trip, but chances come and go and his courage fails him on every occasion.

A chance will come, he assures himself. Throwing an arm over his middle, he draws Taeyong closer and falls back asleep.

On their fifth night on the island, Taeyong finally poses the question.

He is half-asleep on his side, naked, the sheets rumpled over his lower side. Baekhyun is stroking Taeyong’s arm, pale under the moonlight. Taeyong stirs slowly, smiling, soft and tender, when his gaze falls upon Baekhyun.

“You’re not sleeping?”

I’d rather watch you. Taeyong would toss him a well-deserved eye-roll at that. “Not sleepy,” he replies.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun says. “I’m just happy.”

This is the lightest he’s felt in years. He almost blurted this out to Taeyong one morning at the beach: he was running up to him from the water, a grin bright like the sun overhead, and plunged into him soaking wet to pepper kisses all over his face. This is what real happiness must feel like.

Taeyong’s smile grows a fraction. With a delicate motion, he traps Baekhyun’s wrist and kisses his palm. “That’s good to hear.”

Baekhyun clears his throat. “I don’t usually travel with people I’m seeing…”

“Really?” Taeyong’s lids flap tiredly. “You went to the country with Taemin, remember?”

“Right,” Baekhyun murmurs. “I forgot about that time.”

“Did you…” Taeyong rubs his lips together. “Did you love Taemin?”

Nothing could’ve prepared Baekhyun for that question. “No, I didn’t. Why?”

All these years have helped him realize that he was on the precipice of doing so, that they were both standing over that cliff, and perhaps they would have taken the leap had they not ended things so abruptly.

Baekhyun is sure he could’ve loved Taemin. They knew each other well, matched one another even better. But there were also their careers standing in between, those mountain tops where their goals resided, casting shadows over everything else in their lives. Standing at the top of that mountain years later has bestowed in Baekhyun a new clarity. There is a certainty within him, as certain as he’s ever been of anything, that he may love Taeyong. But that would require letting Taeyong in, building a door in the walls he’s erected around himself, a fit he’s never done for someone else before.

This trip is like opening the door an inch.

“I don’t know,” Taeyong murmurs. “I was wondering maybe…”

Taeyong trails off. Questions swirl in his eyes, questions Baekhyun is probably not ready to answer. A suffocating hush engulfs the room. Baekhyun can’t take it, so he plunges forward, “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

“No, it’s something else.” Taeyong swallows. “I have a photoshoot in Paris before Fashion Week.”

“Really? Congratulations!” Baekhyun exclaims. Taeyong grins, drowsy and grateful. “When are you going?”

“On the twentieth,” Taeyong says. “A few days before the show. So…” His adam’s apple bounces. “Would you like to go with me?”

“Oh I can’t go with you,” Baekhyun murmurs. “I have some important meetings that week and then a little trip to New York. Got an invite for Fashion Week.”

The enthusiasm in that grin wanes until it fades completely. It plucks at Baekhyun’s heartstrings with the futile desire to clear his schedule and go to Paris with him.

“Oh,” Taeyong mumbles, “that’s fine.”

“Maybe another time,” says Baekhyun.

“Yeah.” Taeyong closes his eyes. His voice lacks conviction, but Baekhyun doesn’t dare to press. “Maybe.”

Returning to Seoul after spending a week in Fiji is disorienting. Work throws them back into their hectic routines mercilessly; Baekhyun has to prepare for the visit of a potential investor to persuade him to pour his money into the brand in the hopes of expanding to other countries. Taeyong is appointed to direct a campaign for a small clothing brand and he spends his days translating his vision into the screen.

Autumn has dyed the trees a bright copper, their leaves crunched under feet on sidewalks. Right at the turn of the season, Baekhyun is invited to the birthday party of an old friend.

Jongdae is a successful veteran singer in the industry. For his thirtieth birthday, he’d packed the terrace of a club with his friends and acquaintances from the entertainment business. Baekhyun remains at the bar, eyeing the crowd. There are singers, idols, models, actors, and other flashy people Baekhyun does not recognize.

“Hey,” a voice says, “nice meeting you here.”

They haven’t seen each other in a little more than a week since Taeyong departed for Paris. Between Fiji and Paris, Taeyong had swapped the lilac for light blond and seeing him tonight, striking as ever, manifests in a shot of pure energy in his system. Baekhyun sits up straight in his stool, invigorated, and grins at Taeyong.

“Hey!” Baekhyun basks in Taeyong’s beautiful smile. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Jaehyun dragged me along,” Taeyong explains. “I arrived earlier today. I’m a little jet-lagged, but I didn’t want to turn him down.”

Baekhyun glances in the direction of the group Taeyong points at with his thumb. Jaehyun spares them a cautious glimpse that skitters away upon colliding with Baekhyun’s gaze. The man is striking as ever. Since Taeyong’s party at Mark’s house, Baekhyun has discovered he’s a web drama actor and that he harbors an unsubtle crush on Taeyong.

“You should’ve stayed home if you’re tired,” Baekhyun says. “But you still look good despite the jet lag.”

Taeyong laughs, embarrassed. That all-too-familiar warmth thaws his insides. “You look better in that suit though.” Taeyong bites his lower lip, ogling Baekhyun’s thighs stretching his pants. “I really like... your shoes.”

“Thanks, they’re Hermès.” Baekhyun snickers behind his glass. “What if we get out of here?”

“I came with my friends,” Taeyong says. “I can’t ditch them.” A pause. “By the way… would you like to meet them?”

“Meet them?” Baekhyun blinks rapidly. “Right now?”

Meeting Taeyong’s friends is dangerously close to the level of meeting his parents, which lies somewhere in the territory of official relationships. They’re not there yet. Baekhyun is not there yet. If he meets his friends now, then soon they would have to face Taemin and Baekhyun is definitely certain he isn’t ready for that.

“Maybe later,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t think we should…”

Like stop-motion, Taeyong’s face falls: first the corners of his eyebrows, then the edges of his mouth and finally his eyes are drawn to the floor. And it all puts itself back together in a blink. Taeyong’s smile lacks the luster from earlier. “Right, right. Sorry I asked.” A subtle nod. “I should get back.”

Instinctively, Baekhyun reaches for the hand Taeyong has over the bar, but it moves before he can grasp it. He clutches his glass in its stead.

“Okay,” Baekhyun says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Taeyong throws a smile over his shoulder. “See you.”

Jongdae passes by Taeyong and exchanges a quick bow. The singer doesn’t miss Baekhyun boring holes into Taeyong’s retreating back through the throng.

“Is he your new boy?” Jongdae asks with a smirk. “Jongin told me you’re seeing someone.”

“Jongin sure knows how to run his mouth.” Baekhyun knocks back his drink. “He is a photographer at my brand.”

“A colleague? That hasn’t stopped you in the past,” Jongdae muses. “From the way you were looking at him I’d wager he is more than that.”

Baekhyun knows better than to lie to Jongdae. The singer has an unparalleled ability to see right through his bullshit. “We’re seeing each other but… he’s Taemin’s little brother so we’re just… laying low for now.”

“Oh okay.” Jongdae nods in understanding. “But you like him, don’t you? I can tell by that sad-puppy look on your face.”

Baekhyun has been switching his attention from Jongdae to Taeyong at the far side of the terrace. Just as Baekhyun is about to contradict Jongdae, Taeyong and his entourage disappear into the staircase, Jaehyun’s arm loosely wound over his waist. There’s no flicker of jealousy within him but the remorse of having wasted a chance to go home with that gorgeous man instead.

Work had tested his optimism to the max that week. The potential deal with the investor had fallen through and Baekhyun was told moments before an agreed meeting. Reuniting with Taeyong that weekend was the one thing he’d been looking forward to, but he also managed to screw that up.

“I can’t say I miss fooling around like that,” Jongdae says, smiling whimsically. “It was fun, I’ll admit. But since I’ve gotten married, I’ve realized how much better it is to know there is someone waiting for you at home. That there’ll be someone in your bed at night and they’ll still be there in the morning. That kind of thing, you can’t take it for granted.”

Any other night, Baekhyun would tease Jongdae for being old-fashioned, come up with a cynical joke about the monogamous lifestyle, but tonight Baekhyun is empty. Tonight Baekhyun is aware of the yearning for that kind of love, real and tangible, stirring deep in his soul. He could fall asleep beside Taeyong and share breakfast in bed like in the mornings where they have nowhere to be. Never had Baekhyun craved domesticity, a simple life, until Taeyong entered the picture. It is there, right within reach, yet so far away at the same time.

“I’m probably insane for saying this,” Baekhyun unleashes a pitiful little laugh, “but I’m kinda jealous.”

Jongdae smiles and pats his knee. “You’re going to have that one day. I can guarantee you that.”

Baekhyun wishes he could ask Jongdae how. But it’s clear what’s stopping him from getting it. Fear, doubt and insecurity, all standing in his way of telling Taeyong how drastically his feelings have changed for him these past months.

“Sorry for ruining your evening with my self-deprecating bullshit,” Baekhyun says humorously, pulling out a high-pitched laugh from Jongdae. “So how’s the wife and baby?”

Things are weird with Taeyong following Jongdae’s birthday party. Taeyong doesn’t contact him at all. It’s on the third try that Baekhyun accepts that his messages are being left on read and decides to wait for Taeyong to come around.

Taemin invites him and Jongin to dine at his place, along with Kibum, Taemin’s longtime creative director at Venia. Baekhyun shows up with a bottle of rosé and tiramisu for dessert.

“Where is your baby brother?” Kibum asks. “I thought you said he was staying with you?”

That grabs Baekhyun’s notice. “Taeyong’s staying with you here?”

“Yeah, his apartment got flooded,” Taemin explains casually, “so he and his roommate have to stay with other people while they hunt for another place. I told him he can stay however long he wants, but he’s stubborn.”

Baekhyun wonders how long Taeyong has been without a place of his own and he wasn’t aware. But more than anything, he wonders why Taeyong didn’t ask him to stay at his place in the meantime—Baekhyun wouldn’t have any problem with it, he’s only at home during the day on weekends and Taeyong would have the place to himself the rest of the time.

“I think he’s dating someone,” Taemin mentions, “but he’s mum on who it may be.”

Baekhyun chokes on his wine and Jongin thumps his back with a thinly concealed smile. Kibum hums merrily, leaning forward with a smirk. “Who do you think it is?”

“No idea,” Taemin replies, bemused. “He’s been so secretive. Maybe it’s not so serious, but he’s been going out a lot these past months. He’s rarely at my parent’s house on weekends anymore and even they are wondering what he’s up to.”

It’s a difficult task to school his expression into nonchalance. Jongin, on the other hand, can barely contain his entertainment beside him.

“You don’t think it’s that guy from Elle again?” Kibum grimaces with distaste. “He was so sleazy.”

“Sleazy how?” Baekhyun queries, his interest piqued. “Did he sleep around?”

“Yeah, he was two-timing Taeyong,” Taemin says. “He only found out about it after the guy broke up with him because he wanted to see other people. He was a douchebag, but Taeyong took it pretty hard.”

Baekhyun had already heard the story from Taeyong, but he was clueless as to how bad it was. All it does is increase his worry for Taeyong.

The group parts around midnight. In the elevator ride to the garage, Baekhyun deliberates whether to text Taeyong, recognizing there’s a chance he might be left on read again. In the end he texts him a quick, where are u, and locks his phone. Against all odds, he receives a reply in seconds. Mark’s. Before Baekhyun can reply, another text comes in: is dinner already over?

Now Baekhyun understands Taeyong went to Mark’s house so he didn’t have to be at dinner with him and Taemin. It would’ve been awkward to pretend he wasn’t dying to touch Taeyong or be close to him throughout the evening, so it might’ve been a wise choice. Still, Baekhyun wants to see him desperately.

“Are you going to meet Taeyong?” Jongin asks. “You should’ve seen yourself at the table…”

Jongin wheezes a scornful laugh. Baekhyun casts his friend an unimpressed glare that goes blatantly ignored. “I really felt like I was going to shit my pants this time.”

“I doubt he suspects anything,” Jongin says, “despite that you looked like you were going to drop dead in his dining room.”

Jongin’s phone beeps. Baekhyun doesn’t miss the tiny smirk that pulls at his plush mouth. “Excuse me, are you going to meet someone?”

“Going to Jennie’s,” Jongin replies. “Don’t say anything.”

Baekhyun laughs at the sheepishness from his friend. Jongin and Jennie have been flirting for months, been friends for longer. It was a matter of time they would get together eventually. Walking to his car, once he’s said goodbye to Jongin, he ruminates on missed chances and the morning Taeyong fell asleep by his side in the middle of a Ghibli movie in Fiji.

It’s near one in the morning when he parks outside Mark’s house. He types a quick, can u come out? im outside, and waits for a reply on the curb. The response he gets is not the one he expected: Taeyong comes out of the house, his perplexity at Baekhyun’s presence written all over him. Taeyong climbs in the car in a fuzzy cardigan and slippers, regarding Baekhyun with a mixture of unguarded caution and curiosity.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Baekhyun says. “Since we’ve barely seen each other this past week.”

Taeyong is riveted on the glove box. “I’m not avoiding you. I was just super busy, like you are too.”

This secret heaven of theirs has been easy and straightforward thus far, but lately it’s apparent it can be as fragile as glass. Something tells Baekhyun it is better not to counter Taeyong’s deflection. “Alright,” he concedes. “Do you have time right now?”

“It’s almost two in the morning on a Saturday,” Taeyong laughs lowly. “We were just dicking around on PUBG.”

“Okay then.” Baekhyun grins, knowing what Taeyong’s answer is. “So, wanna drive around for a bit?”

They wind up at the Cheonggyecheon stream an hour later. Taeyong brought his camera along to get some night footage of the renovated place. Baekhyun hasn’t been here in ages; it’s one of those tourist traps that he’d rather avoid in the daylight. Admittedly, the place is enthralling, in particular this time of night. The stone slabs are occupied by a few couples and a group of college-aged people chatting and drinking. They stroll to a deserted area scored by the trickling of the creek and the singing of crickets among the plants.

“Taemin told me about your apartment.”

Taeyong is distracted by whatever he is seeing on the screen of his camera. “Yeah, it got flooded. The landlord got mad because we ruined the apartment below ours so he pretty much kicked us out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a place to stay?”

Taeyong glances up in confusion. “What’d you mean?”

“I would’ve let you stay at my place,” Baekhyun mumbles, “if you’d told me. You already spend so much time there, half of your wardrobe is on my bedroom floor. I wouldn’t have minded.”

An indecipherable emotion passes by Taeyong’s features, softening them, curving the shape of his eyebrows. Then he shakes his head, resolute, and the emotion vanishes with the swing of the chains from his hoop earrings.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to impose on you.” Taeyong returns to his camera. “You already have enough to worry about.”

“Taeyongie is so stubborn,” Baekhyun says. The saccharine in his voice puts a smile on Taeyong. “I like having you around, y’know.”

“Wouldn’t that be like crossing a line?”

The casualness in which the line is packaged ties a neat knot in his stomach. Taeyong is ever so straightforward and his blows never fail to leave him winded.

“I already said I wouldn’t mind.” Baekhyun shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’m just offering you my help.”

The orchestra of crickets substitutes a response. Taeyong is completely absorbed in filming the stream flowing by. Baekhyun descends one slab. Taeyong has that serious mask on whenever he’s filming something; it’s fascinating how he fully immerses himself in what he’s doing, so his subject is his sole focalpoint.

And tonight specifically he is captivating, the chain in his left earring dangles as he shifts his angle, his skin smooth and pale as moonlight. He’d missed him a ludicrous amount, so much so, Baekhyun aches with the need to lay his soul bare to him right then and there against his better judgement.

“What’s wrong?” Taeyong asks suddenly without diverting from his camera. “You’re really quiet. It’s so not like you.”

“I was just thinking…” Baekhyun trails off, his bravery fading by the second. It would be unfair to tell Taeyong that he missed him, given that he was the reason Taeyong kept his distance in the first place.

“About what?” There is concern etched in the slope of Taeyong’s brow once he finally puts the camera away. “Is there something wrong?”

“I was just thinking that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

A beat passes. Taeyong chuckles, sprinkled with disbelief. “Is that it?”

They’re under the bridge, concealed by the shade of darkness. Taeyong slings the camera over his shoulder and throws his arms around Baekhyun’s neck at the same time Baekhyun clutches his hips. The first touch of their lips is like air pouring into empty lungs. Baekhyun works to prolong it, helped by the fact Taeyong doesn’t appear to be in the mood to let go. Perhaps he’s missed Baekhyun just a fraction of the extent he’s been missed.

Their foreheads touch. Baekhyun rubs their noses together and Taeyong titters, because it’s not something they’ve done before. The airy texture of his laugh is like music to Baekhyun all the same.

“Now I’m good,” Baekhyun murmurs, tucking a strand behind Taeyong’s ear. “You know, you’re the prettiest guy I’ve ever been with. Pretty, pretty Taeyongie.”

Taeyong groans, hiding in Baekhyun’s neck. Baekhyun buries his nose in Taeyong’s hair, the faded scent of his shampoo soothing to his soul. “You’ve literally been with supermodels.”

“I’m dead serious,” Baekhyun reiterates. “You’re the best looking guy—”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Taeyong says, stepping back. “It makes me…”

Baekhyun clings to Taeyong’s sleeve, already grieving the loss of contact. “What?”

“Nothing.” Taeyong shakes his head for good measure. The smile on his face is taut, though, and it doesn’t match the glimmer in his eyes. “Let’s walk some more?”

Baekhyun isn’t convinced, but knows better than to press. Returning to the normal path, he traces Taeyong’s arm, and once he reaches his palm, Taeyong links their fingers of his own accord. Neither comments on how they don’t usually do this, walking hand in hand in public, but the bliss that inundates Baekhyun is too much to let that detail dampen his mood. And the tiny smile on Taeyong is enough to tell him he’s thinking of this too.

Silk, satin and cotton are the fabrics Baekhyun chose for Taeyong’s suit. The planning had ended in early August, with the help of Yeri at the brand, and then he’d sent it to the manufacturers for completion. It had returned fully done on Friday, spectacular as Baekhyun had first pictured it—the black satin of the suit whispering under his palm and the golden of the silk shirt smooth as butter under his fingertips.

Everyone at the creative team had praised Baekhyun endlessly for its design. There are some details Baekhyun wants to add, like floral embroideries along the lapels and over the shirt, but he can be certain it is one of his best works.

“What are you working on?”

Taeyong is over his front, his arms folded over a pillow. Baekhyun looks up from his phone and arches his brows.

“What?”

“That suit bag over there.” Taeyong points to the bag in question over the armchair in a corner of his room. Baekhyun had forgotten to put it away before Taeyong arrived. “And all the stuff on your coffee table. Is it for the new collection?”

Taeyong is clueless about the suit. Baekhyun isn’t sure how he’s going to show it to him, since these types of gifts aren’t in his nature at all, but he figures it could be a very expensive Christmas present.

The guy must be really lucky, Yeri had said one night at the office, since he’s getting this custom-made suit from you. She had giggled knowingly when Baekhyun threw back a joke about her nosiness.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “It’s a surprise, so you can’t peek.”

“Why not?” Taeyong whines, kicking the mattress with a foot. “Ugh, I bet it must be something incredible.”

“There is, however, something I can show you.”

Baekhyun gets off the bed in his birthday suit. Taeyong wolf whistles and Baekhyun grins sheepishly as he grabs a box from his closet. All the amusement has faded from Taeyong once Baekhyun puts the box at his feet. He sits up on the bed and glances between Baekhyun and the box with amazement.

“Is it for me?”

Baekhyun sits next to him. “Just a little gift I got in New York.”

Taeyong takes the lid off and exclaims a loud woah that makes Baekhyun giggle. It’s a Dior saddlebag—he’d thought of Taeyong and bought it on the spot. Now, as he sees Taeyong’s reaction, he’s certain he made a good investment.

“Thank you so much.” Taeyong hugs the bag to his chest. “I love it. It’s totally my style.”

“Guess I know you well then,” Baekhyun says. “You could paint it like your shoes.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Why would I?” Baekhyun laughs good-naturedly. “It’s yours.” Taeyong smiles, thumping the leather of the bag. “What’s that look on your face?”

“Nobody’s ever given me something this nice,” Taeyong responds. “No one outside my family, I mean. And this must’ve been really expensive.”

“It’s fine.” Baekhyun makes a dismissive gesture. “I can afford it and you like it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” His phone pings somewhere on the bed. He reaches for it and whatever he sees there diverts his thoughts in a different direction.

Baekhyun takes the chance to put the box away. The doorbell rings. “Oh, that must be the pizza.”

Putting on his joggers, he retrieves the pizza and pays the delivery man. While he’s placing slices on plates in the kitchen, Taeyong walks in, wearing nothing but boxers and a somber expression. He takes a seat at the island and begins bouncing his left leg with fretful restlessness.

“Is everything alright?”

“Uh…” Taeyong scans the polished surface of the island. “Jaehyun asked me out on a date.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun stands there, unsure of what to do. “Do you want to go out with him?”

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. There is a torturous handful of seconds until Taeyong shakes his head. “No, I don’t.” A pause. “But I…”

The uncertainty in the slant of Taeyong’s brows is gnawing at Baekhyun. Did he develop feelings for Jaehyun and Baekhyun didn’t notice in time? In New York, there was little that he thought of besides Taeyong. While he treaded the crowds at Times Square, admiring the LED deluge of advertisements against the twilight sky, he had an overwhelming desire for Taeyong to be there with him.

“If you want to go out with Jaehyun,” Baekhyun says, careful, “you can do it. But I’d like you to tell me first.”

There is a flicker of disappointment zipping across Taeyong’s features, a repeat of that scene back at Jongdae’s party. It’s gone as fast as it has come. In its stead, a demure smile curls at the ends of Taeyong’s mouth.

“I don’t want to go out with him.” Taeyong picks up his slice of pizza. “I just like him as a friend.”

Baekhyun senses the topic is over, but his own apprehension is far from gone. Despite that, he mutters, “Okay,” and ambles to the fridge. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Taeyong mumbles. “You’d tell me if you wanted to see someone else, right?”

Baekhyun wheels around, clasping the beers by the neck. Taeyong is examining his food, his shoulders an inch higher than before.

“Of course I would,” Baekhyun replies, sitting at the island. Taeyong glances up carefully, like a pet faced with an unfamiliar person. “Right now I don’t want to see anyone but you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

This is as much of a confession as he is ever going to manage. It comes charged with a nervous energy and it bursts within him like an overinflated balloon. There is a trace of relief in the gentleness of Taeyong’s gaze, matching his smile, the same kind of release and lightness that encompasses Baekhyun.

“Okay,” Taeyong echoes, coupled by a slow nod. That timid smile gains traction. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Baekhyun manages the grueling task of placing his phone on the desk, the lines on the screen blurring into an incomprehensible jumble in his mind.

Blind Item

Love is in the air for this pair. Insiders are talking about a particular couple in the fashion industry consisting of a famous model and a photographer. They’ve taken trips together and have been spotted in hot spots sharing romantic dinners. A has ventured into his own brand as of last year and taken B on his team. It seems like they’re going to last a long time.

Tremors have taken over his limbs. Blood is pounding in his temples, relentless, like the insisting noise of his thoughts. “Oh, god,” he groans. “How the fuck—”

“We’re working to get it taken down,” Nayeon assures him. “It hasn’t been up for long.”

Baekhyun presses his palms to his forehead and wills himself to stop shaking. Breathes in and out in big gulps. It’s not that bad, he repeats in a chant. The post does not mention names. It’s not that bad.

“Is there anything else—”

“Just go,” Baekhyun orders. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Nayeon falters but retreats out of the office. Apprehension slushes in his belly like a full glass of whisky. Eventually, he wills himself to check the comments in the post. There are several posters speculating about the subjects, and among the dozens of comments he scrolls through, only a couple namedrop him. Said comments have three and five upvotes respectively. The top comments are around three hundred upvotes and counting. They’re out of the danger zone.

Baekhyun is reeling with all the possibilities of who could have given them away. Other than Jongin, the only person at work who is aware of their secret is Nayeon, at least to his knowledge, and it’s inconceivable that either would have snitched on them. Somebody must have caught on. Someone close to their circle, personal or professional, noticed the times he and Taeyong have been away lately and put two and two together.

All he knows is that the security he once felt has taken a hit and the crack over that pellucid surface is far too large to ignore.

Taeyong is not speaking to him. Rather, Taeyong is refusing to speak. Forty minutes earlier he’d picked him up from Taemin’s place and taken him on an aimless drive around the city just so they could talk, but the conversation hadn’t taken the route he’d hoped—more like the route he’d feared.

Over the past few days, Baekhyun concluded that they should stay low for a while to divert the attention of whoever sent the blind item. Perhaps be seen around with other people at a couple events, just in case. Of course, Taeyong is reticent.

“Taeyong, talk to me.”

“I already said I don’t want to do it.” Taeyong’s tone is flat, unwavering. “So that’s all I have to say.”

“But it’s a good way to get them off our backs…”

“Yeah, I get that but…” Taeyong rotates his neck from the window so his profile is visible. He’s suctioned his lip so hard it is white upon release. “Who cares about what people say? It’s not like they’re lying… We have been seeing each other these past months.” Then in a quieter, rougher voice, “We’re not even properly dating.”

Baekhyun’s grip over the wheel is clammy. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“We have a lot to risk here,” Baekhyun says. “My brand. Your work. And Taemin might kick my ass if he finds out.”

A long pause where Taeyong fiddles with his thumbs. The cogs whizzing in his brain are nearly audible through his skull.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before… all of this.”

Maybe it would’ve shocked him less if the blow hadn’t come so charged. There is a clamoring undercurrent of hurt packed tidily inside nonchalance, it leaves Baekhyun winding. He pushes down what he wants to say. They have never had a real argument and this one is totally out of his control.

“Can you take me back home, please?” Taeyong asks. “I gotta be up early tomorrow.”

A pang pierces the area right between his lungs. Taeyong doesn’t want to see him tonight.

“Alright.”

Parked on the curb, Taeyong doesn’t move to get out. Instead he sits there for a protracted moment in an obvious attempt to weigh his words.

“I think we should end this.”

The shock of that sentence slices right through Baekhyun like a scythe. Taeyong is transfixed on his lap, his voice a steady, incisive rasp, unlike the incessant bouncing of his right knee.

“Why?” Baekhyun swallows over the parchedness in his throat. “Because of what I said?”

“I get where you’re coming from.” Taeyong glimpses at him. “That’s why I think it’s better if we don’t see each other anymore. Things are getting too complicated and we are just supposed to have fun... Just like you and Sehun.”

Baekhyun aches like he’s been struck. “You’re not—This is not like that.”

“But Jongin told me serious relationships weren’t your thing.” Taeyong contemplates him at length. “So how is it like?”

Every syllable reeks of feelings left to fester for some time. Baekhyun wonders briefly how long Taeyong has been bottling this up and never dared to discuss it until tonight.

“I didn’t think we needed labels,” Baekhyun replies. “You know I wasn’t seeing other people.”

“I know that,” Taeyong says. “But I still have to act like this is a secret.” Baekhyun’s about to speak again, so he rushes on, “I don’t mean we should go public. I mean that we’ve been hiding from people we care about. I’ve been keeping you a secret from my friends and my family. I have to lie about where I’m going, where I’m travelling to and who I’m with. I don’t want to keep doing that.”

Frustration and hurt flow from Taeyong in waves and Baekhyun stands in the direct path of destruction. He can’t find a way to make this right, because every poisoned word from Taeyong is true. This is all Baekhyun’s fault for never being clear about where they stood. And Taeyong is in his right to walk out if this isn’t what he wants anymore.

But Baekhyun has some fight within him still. “Your friends know about us,” he argues. “And Nayeon knows…”

“Nayeon is your assistant,” Taeyong retorts. “And Doyoung already knew I had a crush on you, he would’ve guessed it eventually. Taemin was joking at Mark’s house, but I don’t know how he would react if he… since you’ve both been friends for so long. But we can’t hide from him forever. I feel bad for lying to him.”

Guilt trickles through Baekhyun. It’s been hard for him to keep it a secret from Taemin as well. He’s never been open about his relationships, but he’s never had to lie barefaced to his friends either.

“But we both agreed to this,” Baekhyun argues feebly. “We said we would first see where this was going—”

“Yes, I remember,” Taeyong interrupts, vehement. “But I want more. I want more of you. All of you. Not just the crumbs I get in private. I’m tired of waiting around for you to want me back the same way.”

“Taeyong—”

“And I know you care a lot about your career,” Taeyong plows on. “You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are right now and I don’t want to take that away from you.” A quivery breath. “But I don’t want to keep secrets just to have you.”

Baekhyun has always prided himself in knowing what to say at the right moment. His charm and social skills are some of the reasons he’s gotten to where he is. But the right words to mend all of this evade him like smoke through his fingers.

Taeyong’s jaw is set with resolution, a stark contrast to the resignation in the slouch of his shoulders. At last Baekhyun accepts what’s been obvious all along: this is a lost fight. Defeat sags his body down and pins him to the seat under its weight.

Taeyong deserves better than this. And he’s aware of this fact. That’s why he’s dumping him.

A lump is lodged in his throat. The car parked ahead has a peeling sticker of a caricature family and a cat pasted on the rear window. Baekhyun concentrates on it until he’s sure he can speak without choking.

“So this is really it, huh?”

Taeyong rubs his lips together. A succinct jerk of his head. “I think so, yeah.”

Tell him you love him, don’t let him go. A part of him understands that Taeyong is better off without him. That it’s too late to patch things up with promises he isn’t sure he can keep. That maybe Taeyong realized that, under all his charming, exuberant layers, Baekhyun is incapable of letting people in and being loved.

In the end he echoes a stiff version of Taeyong’s nod. No point in dragging this out. “Okay, then.” He unsheathes a shaky smile. “I’m really sorry for fucking everything up.”

Taeyong shakes his head. Gulps heavily. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

Across the console, Taeyong’s eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. In stealth, he twists to the window to wipe the moisture with the heel of his hand. That sole motion breaks something inside Baekhyun and he sucks in an audible breath to hold it in.

“I’ll be seeing you around.” Taeyong flashes him a watery grin that Baekhyun reciprocates in texture. “Take care of yourself.”

Baekhyun mutters, “You too.”

The desire to grab Taeyong’s wrist, drag him close for one last kiss is so potent, Baekhyun fists the fabric of his joggers. Before he can put any of these impulses to fruition, Taeyong opens the car door, and says in a small voice, “It was scrambled eggs, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“Your favorite eggs,” Taeyong says with a weak smile. “I realized you’d be happier eating them than any other type of eggs.”

There is nothing that Baekhyun can say to the hollowness that follows the mention of those breakfasts together. Those moments that are disappearing with each passing second like an exhale on a windowpane.

The ruefulness in his own smile is palpable. “You guessed right.”

Taeyong smiles broader and he’s out of the car without a goodbye. Baekhyun observes his retreating form through an increasingly blurry vision, his chest collapsing in on itself like a sandcastle. That corrosive hollowness is eating him alive, ringing in his bones like water pressing against his ears and swallowing him whole under its merciless current. He has half a mind to surrender to it, but his rational side reminds him he is in public.

His fists tense over the steering wheel. Don’t cry here. Don’t cry here. Don’t cry here. He sniffles, blinks in quick succession to contain the tears and starts the engine to drive home.

Taeyong ends his collaboration with Delight two days later. Baekhyun doesn’t hear it from him, but from Nayeon. The rest of that month passes with no sign of him and Baekhyun struggles to get used to the ache of his absence.

A mannequin with the suit he’d been making for Taeyong stands somberly in his living room like a grim reminder of an unfinished story. In the subsequent days of their break-up, the nostalgia attached to it becomes unbearable so he decides to put it away until he finds what to do with it. Strangely, despite the small space it occupied, his apartment seems emptier without it, like the streets outside, bare and cold, devoid of any visible presence of Taeyong in his home.

Autumn is not kind that year. The grey vaults of clouds shed endless light rains in the mornings, swept by winds that rustle the copper-colored trees along the sidewalks, soon to be stripped naked by the incoming winter. The seasonal transition marks a year since he reencountered Taeyong. Baekhyun turns the heater higher in his apartment, dons jackets and beanies to ward off the biting cold and goes on with his life.

Chanyeol, a painter and friend, throws a birthday party in the last week of November. Baekhyun isn’t in the mood for parties, but Jongin convinces him to go in the end. The fact Baekhyun has been in a rut these past weeks isn’t a secret; his team at Delight have been making jokes around him just to make him laugh, Jongin has been texting him a disproportionate amount, and even Nayeon has been not-so-subtly suggesting he should go out and meet new people.

The party is crammed with industry acquaintances. Under Jongin and Taemin’s nefarious influence, Baekhyun gets drunk in a surprisingly short time. Since Taemin is the soberest out of the trio, they haul Jongin into a cab together around four in the morning. Taemin decides to go with Jongin in case he is robbed or ends up in a different side of town.

“Let’s meet up this weekend!” Taemin shouts from the window. “I’ll give you a call so you don’t back out!”

Baekhyun waves him goodbye, cackling as Taemin blows him a loud kiss. Alone on the curb, he stuffs his hand in his pocket to conceal it from the cold and uses the other one to fumble with his phone to call an Uber. He stops dead at the picture of Taeyong that he has yet to change on his phone background. Drunkenness mixed with yearning and the access to a phone are a terrible cocktail. His fingers move on autopilot as he searches for Taeyong’s contact. He drags the pad of his thumb over the screen, gaining time for what he knows, despite an inebriated haziness, it’s going to be a mistake. His left foot stumbles back as he presses the call button.

The line rings for several seconds until an automated voice leads him to voicemail. Baekhyun is not capable of clear judgement as he presses call again. Nikes scrape against asphalt. Back to voicemail. A group of girls walk by, the cackling of heels on cement combined with their laughter are sobering enough for his rational side to switch on and convince him it’s stupid to leave a message. Instead he requests an Uber and pockets his phone.

In the morning, he cringes at the flurry of flashbacks of the previous night. Before mortification can truly set in, he lurches for his phone. There aren’t any new notifications from Taeyong. It’s ridiculous: Baekhyun should be thankful that he dodged an awkward situation, but this is overshadowed by his disappointment at Taeyong ignoring his calls. Breakups sure suck.

It’s the first time he’s felt this dejected about not finding a new notification in his phone. Not even during Joongi’s ghosting period before he dumped him officially was he distressed for a lack of contact from one of his conquests. All in all, he’s not so broken up about it not to notice the tiny irony in the situation. Byun Baekhyun, the eternal bachelor, has finally fallen head over heels for someone—and he’s already lost him.

He switches off his phone, pops an aspirin and goes back to sleep.

A week later he meets up with Jongin and others from Taemin’s magazine clique at his apartment.

Baekhyun gets up to leave around midnight. It ignites some protests for him to stay, but he slithers out with the excuse that he has to work in the morning. In the foyer, Taemin catches up to him to put on his shoes.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Taemin says. “Come on.”

Baekhyun makes small talk about work in the elevator. Taemin replies in monosyllables, clearly absorbed by something else.

“When were you going to tell me you were dating my brother?”

Baekhyun’s heart screeches to an abrupt halt. “What?”

Taemin poised the question like someone asking whether his interlocutor believes it’s going to rain. The glance he casts his way does not divulge much either.

“You and Taeyong are dating,” Taemin affirms. “Aren’t you?”

There is no point in denying it. The cat’s out of the bag. “Who told you?”

“I figured it out,” Taemin says, a tinge of acerbity minced in his tone, “since neither of you deigned to tell me.”

Baekhyun is stunned into silence. A ding. The doors open. Taemin walks out into the basement and Baekhyun stumbles after him. The space is deserted except for them.

“How’d you figure it out?”

Taemin wheels around to face him. There is no trace of friendliness or familiarity in that expression—only a cold, detached bearing to mask the betrayal burning within.

“Well, for starters, Taeyong has been taking all these trips the past few months,” Taemin responds, counting with his fingers, “and refuses to say where he’s going. We know Doyoung isn’t going with him. And he keeps wearing your jewelry, like that bracelet with your initial. At first I thought I was imagining things, but I remembered you took him home after that GQ event months ago and that he started working for you soon after. Then it all started to make sense.”

Taemin regards him like he’s waiting for him to speak. Shame the size of a rock has gotten stuck in his esophagus and it takes an inordinate amount of time for Baekhyun to dislodge it.

“Listen, it’s not Taeyong’s fault,” he starts. “We should’ve told you but we decided first to see where it was going and...”

“How did you think I was going to react?” Taemin’s thick brows furrow. “Did you think I was going to forbid you from seeing each other? That I was going to chase you out of the industry?”

Taemin’s stare is saddened. All the excuses he’d made for himself seem superfluous and stupid against Taemin's evident hurt. Baekhyun decides to tell the truth.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I wasn’t sure how you were going to react since you and I dated before… And he is your brother.”

“You’re right,” Taemin agrees. “You’ve been with me and my little brother, of course it’s a bit weird. But that’s the very reason you should’ve told me. We have history. I thought we trusted each other more than that.”

Accusation drips from his voice like poison. It raises with each word and ricochets off the empty space. Baekhyun leans against the cement column and tips his chin up to the ceiling.

“I don’t know what I thought.” He heaves a tremulous sigh. “All I was sure of was that I really liked Taeyong. We both felt bad for hiding from you, but I guess he thought you would object because of our history—and because you’ve always babied him.” A cheerless chuckle. “In the end I fucked it all up myself.”

Taemin pins him down with an assessing attentiveness. This is the most serious Baekhyun’s ever seen his friend. It’s unnerving.

“I’ll only tell you to stay away if you’re not serious about him,” he says. “So are you leading him on?”

Baekhyun doesn’t miss a beat. “No, of course not—” He peels off the column to look Taemin straight in the eye. “I like him. A lot.” A tired exhale. “But it’s all over now.”

“Don’t be like me.” Taemin’s voice has an uneven quality, reflected in his elusive gaze. Baekhyun is speechless at the sudden shift. “I never told you I was in love with you, and I regretted it for years.”

That takes Baekhyun aback. An exhale comes out sharp as a knife. “What? You were… I never knew…”

Past moments take a different shape as if laid out under a brighter light. The way Taemin would only ever acknowledge their relationship in jesting. Why Jongin never did it either; Taemin probably confided his feelings to him.

He’s a heartbreaker, Taemin had said that night at his place. Baekhyun had replied with a flirtatious joke, but the truth was there all along—he did break his friend’s heart years ago.

“I let my career get between us,” Taemin continues. “I didn’t think I could get as far as I did if people knew that I…”

A dizzying sense of dèjá vu has Baekhyun reeling. Taeyong in his passenger seat, cloaked in the gloomy shadow of dejection. “Don’t apologize for that.”

“Who knows how things would’ve turned out?” Taemin flashes teeth. “I would’ve been a lot happier maybe. And well, it would’ve made things between you and my brother a little awkward.”

“That’s all in the past, Taemin.” Baekhyun grips his shoulder. Taemin gifts him an earnest smile. And it’s the truth: this is a door he closed eons ago. “We probably would’ve broken up at some point when we started to get busy. And anyways,” he punches his arm lightly, “I like you more as a friend.”

“Okay, brother-stealer,” Taemin jokes. Baekhyun snorts. “You better go and tell my brother you love him, ‘cause I don’t want him to be depressed in Europe.”

“Europe?” Baekhyun’s soul detaches from his body. “Is he leaving?”

“Don’t look so stricken,” Taemin says. “He’s just travelling around Europe with friends and our cousin Mark. They’re leaving in two weeks.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to talk to me,” Baekhyun says. “He quit the brand. I haven’t seen him in over a month.”

“Listen, I should be kicking your ass for keeping me in the dark and making my baby brother sad.” Taemin smiles to show the threat is half playful. Baekhyun forces out a chuckle. “So you better try to make things right. He’s been moping for weeks and I hate to see him like this. And Jongin’s told me you don’t look so good yourself.”

The image of Taeyong being sad and doleful, unlike his usual sunshine self, is painful. And the worst is that he is the reason. At the same time the news sneaks in mild hope that maybe not everything is lost if Taeyong hasn’t forgotten about him yet.

The ensuing weeks flash by in catalogues and a sponsored photoshoot for Marie Claire.

With winter peeking around the corner, Delight releases a new line that includes coats for the first time: long, double-breasted in pastel colors to give the brand a more sophisticated edge without losing its print. Chic and classy, a magazine journalist had called them in a review. For the catalogue, he’d had Nayeon call Taeyong to do the photoshoot, and the rejection that came cited a full schedule in the coming weeks. It was somewhat expected, but Baekhyun still hung to a sliver of hope that Taeyong would want to go back for his ex-colleagues.

His talk with Taemin was the last push he needed to make up his mind. The truth was there all along, waiting for him to acknowledge it. But he is uncertain on how to approach Taeyong—he’s taken up the habit of opening his chat with him and chickening out last minute. His last text sat there ominously, sent the evening Taeyong broke up with him in the car. Need to see u.

Now more than ever, Baekhyun needed to see him, but he lacked the conviction to make it happen. The rejection for the Delight photoshoot was a clear-cut message: Taeyong didn’t want anything to do with him. What little courage he’d gathered since revealing it all to Taemin waned in the face of the undeniable fact that Taeyong perhaps had walked out of his life for good.

Yuri, their marketing director, throws a birthday bash at her girlfriend’s house the first weekend of December. Nayeon nags him into agreeing to attend because, in her own words, she’s tired of him sulking around the office.

While drinking champagne and chatting with a friend, he spots Taeyong talking to Yuri and Rose at the far side of the garden. Taeyong’s gaze flicks over to him with a surreptitious ease that indicates it’s been done before.

Their eyes meet across the crowd. Baekhyun trails off in the conversation, his heart ramming itself against his ribs. Taeyong nods a shy greeting, his mouth folded in a straight line, neither a smile nor a grimace. Of course he would be there—he’s been friends with everyone at Delight since he set foot in the office. In truth, Baekhyun had harbored the tiniest hope of seeing him tonight, and it blossoms into elation, the first time he’s felt something akin to it in weeks. He offers a friendly smile that isn’t returned and Taeyong picks up his conversation like nothing’s amiss.

Taeyong is surrounded the entire night, a couple or trio of friends ever present at his side. Incrementally, as the party progresses, Baekhyun’s confidence in approaching Taeyong withers. It would inevitably make the atmosphere weird if Taeyong refuses to speak to him, and not even Baekhyun, with his charm amped to the max, would emerge from that situation unscathed.

Around eleven he recognizes his defeat and takes his leave. Yuri is already on her merry way to inebriation and accepts his apology with a noisy kiss on his cheek as a parting gift.

Out on the sidewalk, he lets the freezing air frost his lungs. The quiet of night in the suburbs is welcoming. He kind of feels like a chastised dog, running away with his tail between his hind legs, but he has to salvage what’s left of his pride.

Low-heeled boots clack on the front steps. There in the driveway, with a skip of his heart, is Taeyong peering at him.

“Hey,” Taeyong says, “I thought you’d left already.”

Taeyong’s pants come out in silver puffs, his chest rising and falling in tandem. Exhilaration ripples through Baekhyun at the idea of Taeyong running outside to catch him. Seeing him like this after a month of no contact is like being dropped into the ocean and sinking under the inescapable tide of his longing.

His blond hair falls mid-nape, longer than it was the last time he saw him. The first two buttons of his white shirt are loose, a silver chain resting over his collarbones. He’s so, so handsome, and Baekhyun is irremediably in love with him.

“Hey, you,” he mumbles. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” An awkward pause. “You look good. You’ve changed your hair.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Taeyong rakes his bangs. “I let it grow since the last time you and I...”

Baekhyun nods in understanding. Under his coat Taeyong’s wearing the same Thom Browne navy cardigan he’d been wearing the night they broke up. The air is stilted and unnatural between them, wholly unfamiliar, in comparison to how Baekhyun would breach the distance and touch him in any way that would suffice before.

“It suits you,” Baekhyun says. It earns him a sheepish smile that he passes for a small victory. “Taemin told me you were going to Europe.”

“Yeah, we’ll be travelling for the holidays,” Taeyong tells him. “I’m really excited about it. All the pictures I’m going to take.”

Taeyong plays with the ends of his hair, his other hand in the front pocket of his coat. It’s such a familiar gesture, Baekhyun is hit with a wave of wistfulness.

Baekhyun says, smooth as silk, “I can’t wait to see Europe through your unique view.”

Taeyong’s nose scrunches at the coy little laugh he lets out, his shoulders lifted an inch. Another familiar habit. “They’re not going to be so great, but I’ll be posting on instagram like every day, I imagine.”

Baekhyun feels like a basketball player about to do a crucial shot. Now or never. “Maybe we can get coffee or something before you leave.”

The proposition catches Taeyong off guard, by the way his brows climb over his forehead. He traps his lower lip under his teeth in rumination.

“I don’t know,” he says at length. “Let me think about it, okay?”

The ball falls out of the net. Baekhyun tries to curb his disappointment. “Yeah, sure. I’m glad I could see you tonight.”

“Same,” Taeyong says with a cordial smile. “I’ll let you know about that coffee. I’d like it if we could be friends.”

I don’t want to be your friend, Baekhyun is dying to declare. Shout even. He can’t imagine the agony it would be to sit across from Taeyong and pretend he doesn’t want to kiss him every ten seconds.

On the outside, Baekhyun smiles and says, “I’d like that too. It was really nice to see you.”

Taeyong presents him one last beautiful smile and walks back inside the house. Baekhyun remains there with all the things he would’ve wanted to tell him.

There’s only a few days before Taeyong’s departure. Mark has been doing a sort of countdown on instagram for the trip, and every day that ticks down puts an additional brick in his mounting resignation. Days after Yuri’s party he texted Taeyong, still riding on a glimmer of hope from their encounter, but the radio silence he was met with on his end had killed it stone dead.

That’s why Taeyong’s text two days before he’s set to leave takes him completely by surprise. Baekhyun nearly jumps out of his couch the instant the notification pops up on his screen. In his disbelief, he reads the text so many times the words begin to blend together and lose their meaning.

I got your hoodie I forgot to give back. Wanna come over to get it?

Baekhyun’s thumbs fly over the keyboard to type out a reply. Ill be there in a bit.

Thirty minutes later Taeyong opens the door on the first knock. The idea of him waiting for Baekhyun by the door sends a shock of electricity through his system.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says without ceremony. “Sorry it took me some time to get here.”

“You’re early,” Taeyong whispers. His skin is silky smooth, his blond fringe falling in small, loose waves. Unlike last time he’s not skittish or evasive; he drinks in every inch of Baekhyun with a brazen watchfulness, uncaring to be upfront about it.

It emboldens Baekhyun, this unreserved observation. He steps forward. Taeyong doesn’t step back. Taeyong zeroes on his mouth, his throat working. Baekhyun’s pulse quickens, his breath stilled. They lock eyes. A small quirk of a smile from Taeyong. That miniature action sets everything off, the cue they had both been waiting for: Taeyong yanks the front of his shirt and Baekhyun clutches his hips, their bodies coming together at once like two palms in a prayer.

The kiss is like balm to a wound. It’s like Baekhyun was underwater all long and this is the first gasp of air after breaking the surface, both greedy to steal the amount necessary to clog their lungs. The only real interruption is Baekhyun tripping over his feet while he’s removing his shoes; Taeyong laughs, airy and wonderful, guiding Baekhyun backwards to his bedroom. Baekhyun follows, enthralled, a sailor chasing the song of sirens to his demise.

Sex with Taeyong is like picking up a conversation right where it was left off. It’s comfortable and familiar and potent in all its raw energy, the chemistry between their bodies. Naked and vulnerable, more than he’d like, he peers up at Taeyong, into those dark orbs that engulf him whole without a fight on his part.

“Taeyong, I…”

Taeyong kisses him, purposeful. “Later.”

Baekhyun doesn’t recall the reason—or rather, the deception—for his being there until he has Taeyong lying by his side. His fingertips are tracing the lines of Taeyong’s north star tattoo on his forearm when Taeyong guffaws, gets off the bed to grab a hoodie from a chair. The garb is large on his slight frame, ending over the milky flesh of his thighs. Taeyong hops back on the bed and crawls to him on all fours, wearing a devilish grin at the hankering hunger emanating off Baekhyun.

“You can keep it, if you want.”

“Are you crazy? It’s one of your Balenciaga hoodies.” Taeyong plucks at the fabric with astonishment. “It must be super expensive…”

“I like it more on you.” Baekhyun caresses the sides of Taeyong’s thighs. “Exactly like this.”

Taeyong huffs. “You horny old man.” He straddles Baekhyun to cage his cheeks and muffle the giggle bubbling out of him. “I’ll keep it as a souvenir then.”

Taeyong leaves for Europe a day later.

Despite the promise for later, there was no talk about their relationship that morning at Taeyong’s apartment. They had sex upon waking up and dragged themselves to the shower. There Baekhyun made Taeyong come a second time and held him a little too tight afterwards under the warm water spray.

Taeyong coaxes him into cooperating with breakfast. While teaching Baekhyun how to use the waffle maker, Doyoung walks into the apartment, takes one look at them and smirks like the cat who’s got the mouse. Doyoung promptly disappears, not without leaving a sulky Taeyong behind, who then scowls at Baekhyun for taunting him over his bright-red blush.

“About last night…”

“Let’s talk when I get back, okay?”

Taeyong squeezes his knee in reassurance. Baekhyun readies a protest that Taeyong catches with a kiss. An old tactic that works like a trick. The rest of the day is spent between Taeyong packing and Baekhyun distracting him from the task rather successfully. It’s only at night that he takes his leave since Taeyong has a last dinner planned with his family. Despite everything, the ambiguousness of their status, they had dawdled saying goodbye at the doorway.

It’s a blessing in disguise that there is a significant amount of work piled up to occupy him: the brand is gearing to unveil a new pop-up store in Singapore in two weeks. He stays updated on Taeyong through social media, all the posts on instagram of each city they visit. There have been no interactions from either side since his departure.

Disheartening as it is, however, this absence of communication was predictable. Everything was left in the air. In the succeeding days, Baekhyun became increasingly unsure of whether it had been a good idea to sleep together with the current uncertainty of where they stood. It might have messed things up even further between them—or maybe he was just paranoid. What he was sure of is that this situation had made a chaotic jumble of his thoughts like Baekhyun was a teenager again trying to decipher what his crush meant in a text.

Perhaps Taeyong understood he would need space to think after that last night. If so, Baekhyun would give him all the time necessary.

“Cheer up,” Jongin says. “He won’t be gone forever.”

The reprimand is endearingly sweet in Jongin’s impatient tone, even if it’s coupled with a slap to the forearm. It trips Baekhyun out of his reverie, as it’s been per usual lately, and he smiles in apology.

They had met up for drinks at a pub near the Delight office. Taemin opted out, caught at work. That evening at Taemin’s building, their talk ended in an amicable note, at least to Baekhyun, but they had gone their separate ways without the usual agreement to text later. So in retrospect Baekhyun should’ve anticipated the subtle cold shoulder he’s getting from his friend; since the talk Taemin has been seen-zoning his messages in the group chat with Jongin. Baekhyun pretends not to be affected, because, admittedly he deserves it, partially or not, but it’s another thing he is lost on how to mend.

Baekhyun didn’t notice he’d been staring forlornly at his phone until Jongin intervened.

“That’s true,” Baekhyun sighs, “but what if…”

He stops short of voicing his insecurities. Jongin inclines his head with an inviting smile. An honest encouragement to keep going.

What if Taeyong meets someone else on another continent? What if he and Jaehyun get too close? What if their last encounter was nothing more than sex? If Taeyong only meant to scratch an itch, and it’s Baekhyun who is hung up overthinking everything.

“You are overthinking,” Jongin concludes. A smirk twists his plush mouth. “And it’s the first time I’ve ever seen you like this, so I gotta admit it is kind of funny.”

“Glad that I can entertain you with my suffering,” Baekhyun responds flatly. Jongin snickers behind his glass. Baekhyun groans and hangs his head. “God, I feel pathetic.”

Jongin clicks his tongue and pats his wrist. It does not improve Baekhyun’s mood. “We’ve all been there. You can always call him, right?”

“No, I can’t.” Baekhyun props up his chin. “We didn’t agree on anything, just that we would talk after he got back. I don’t want him to feel pressured.”

Jongin hums in sympathy, evidently wrung out of things to placate Baekhyun with. “Distance does make the heart grow fonder.”

Cleaning up his room over the weekend, he’d found a shirt that belongs to Taeyong in his wardrobe. The memories of him wearing that shirt hit him with the force of an eight-wheeler, and Baekhyun stood there holding it, smarting from the blow. He smelled in the lingering scent, and this time, he felt the ache of yearning for real.

“So they say.”

He knocks back the dredges at the bottom of his glass. Jongin, being the excellent friend that he is, pours soju to the top. The clear liquid spills over the brim. Jongin laughs at his inebriation and Baekhyun sips his drink.

“At least I can get drunk and forget all about it tonight.”

“This boy’s a keeper then,” Jongin notes with all the honesty of a drunk. “Or you wouldn’t be all mopey right now.”

Taeyong has embedded himself indelibly into his being. Thinking of him is his daily sport—he’s the first thing he thinks of in the morning and the last thing on his mind at night—and Baekhyun excels at it.

It’s embarrassing to confess it to anyone still. But it must read on his face, for Jongin giggles like he’s genuinely happy for him. He clinks his glass with Baekhyun’s. “Let’s drink to that.”

Taeyong calls him on Christmas Eve.

Baekhyun’s parents came to visit him and he is making the trip back to Busan with them for a quick visit with his brother and his family in the morning.

It had started snowing around nine. Baekhyun got a little tipsy on eggnog at dinner so he’d gone to bed early. The incoming video call from Taeyong knocks all the drowsiness out. In a second his entire body freezes and then he’s sitting up in bed to answer. Taeyong’s pixelated form appears under the glow of early morning, his blond hair plastered under a pink beanie pulled over his ears. A smile snaps instantly on his face the second he spots Baekhyun. It pulls a sweet note out of his heartstrings.

“Hey,” Taeyong says. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, no, this is a good time,” Baekhyun rushes to say. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. How’re you?”

He cringes at his image on the screen. Work was heavy this week because of the upcoming holidays; he looks dead, his hair a dark, shapeless cloud. His furtive attempts at taming it fail miserably. Conversely, Taeyong looks angelic, his lips rosier than usual due to the cold, the mellow stream of his voice dribbling into the stillness of his room.

“Were you sleeping?” Taeyong queries. “I’m good! How about you?”

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun says. “Where are you?”

“We’re waiting for a train to Berlin,” Taeyong tells him. “Half of the guys are sleeping and Mark is getting us coffee. I called because I thought of you.”

“Really?” Baekhyun lies down on his side. “Well, why wouldn’t you think about me?”

Taeyong’s red glove muffles his laugh. Baekhyun wishes the connection was better so he could check whether Taeyong is blushing. The knowledge of Taeyong thinking of him on Christmas Eve—any day, any moment—sits warm and soothing in his stomach like hot chocolate on a winter night.

“Forget it,” Taeyong jokes, “now I kinda regret calling you.”

The call lasts for a half-hour. Taeyong narrates his trips, the spots that have impressed him, and asks about Baekhyun’s life back in Seoul. Baekhyun is playful and lighthearted so as to not whine about how much he’s missed him these weeks. A crippling doubt creeps in as the call is whirring towards its end that perhaps he should say something, anything, since Taeyong said he thought of him.

“I’ve missed you,” he blurts out. “It’s nice seeing you right now.”

He’s immediately struck with the need to dig a hole and die there. What he gets for an answer is a timid smile, bordering on coy that somehow appeases him all the same.

“It’s nice seeing you too,” Taeyong says. A man shouts out of frame and Taeyong is briefly distracted. “The train is here. I gotta go. Take care!”

The call disconnects. There were no hasty promises of a second call so Baekhyun takes this as a one-time gift. It will have to suffice in the meantime.

The Seoul Fashion Awards names Baekhyun the Designer of the Year. Nayeon hugs after giving him the news, the first time she’s ever done so in the years they’ve been working together. Baekhyun is equally stunned about her display of affection as he is about the award.

The team holds a dinner for Baekhyun at a nearby restaurant to celebrate. Baekhyun invites Jongin, so they can go for drinks later. Taemin is a no-show once they meet at a hotel bar in Gangnam.

“Give him some time,” Jongin advises him. “He’ll come around.”

Back at Taemin’s building, before they parted even, it was plain that it would take some time for the feelings of misgiving and awkwardness to simmer down.

“You sure about that?” Baekhyun asks. “I’d understand if he kept his distance. I hid something important from him for months after all.”

“True, but he must know that you really like Taeyong,” Jongin says, “and that Taeyong feels the same way about you.”

Baekhyun smiles surreptitiously, sipping his drink to hide it. There is a flutter inside him at the mention of Taeyong’s feelings for him that warms him better than the alcohol. It reminds him of how much he misses him too—they haven’t talked since that videocall. Not that Baekhyun expected more, but it doesn’t stop him from opening his chat with Taeyong to type a message, deleting it and typing it again. Repeat process.

“We will see about that when he comes back.”

Jongin hums and drinks from his glass, a knowing spark in his gaze.

As Baekhyun’s coming back from a trip to the restroom, he’s shocked to see Taemin walking into the bar. It stops him dead next to the table, Taemin sauntering over to them with a smile on his face that doesn’t fade upon noticing him.

“Hey, sorry for being late,” Taemin says, nonchalant. “I got held up at another dinner party.”

“It’s okay!” Baekhyun chirps, sitting back down. “We can ask for appetizers if you’re hungry…”

“No, it’s fine.” Taemin sits on Jongin’s side. “I ate at the party.”

“If you guys don’t mind,” Jongin says, rising to his feet, “I’m going outside for a quick smoke. Be right back.”

Jongin excuses himself before either Baekhyun or Taemin can say something. A thick silence befalls their table. Taemin fills his glass. Baekhyun regards his friend with a pinch of apprehension.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says. “I know I already apologized but I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Taemin says with a disbelieving chuckle. “I mean, you did sleep with my brother behind my back without telling me for months, but—”

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

“No, I don’t hate you,” Taemin says. “And I don’t resent you or anything. I’ve mostly forgiven you. Mostly. I still have a bit left to go.”

Relief settles into him like a soft blanket. Already a lightness loosens the noose that had wound him up since that conversation that revealed everything. “That’s good to hear. Jongin would probably cry if we never made up.”

“He would,” Taemin agrees. “He would keep trying to leave us alone in rooms until we finally made up.”

Baekhyun laughs, watching with a sense of awe the easiness with which Taemin’s guards crumbled since he sat down. Adding to his surprise, Taemin reaches out across the table to squeeze his hand. It lasts half a second, but Baekhyun beholds his friend and mirrors his kindly smile.

Taeyong contacts him two days later on New Year’s Day.

Baekhyun is checking his email that morning, his breakfast on a tray by his side on the bed. There is a new email without a subject sitting in his inbox. Baekhyun pushes his glasses up his nose and clicks on the e-mail. There is a small text and a picture underneath that takes a couple of seconds to load.

We stopped in Vienna for a bit. Nobody has fallen into a canal yet. We went to the Wiener Riesenrad and I remembered that movie you like. Of course I thought of you. Taemin told me about the award! Congrats! You deserve it, boss.

Can’t wait to see you.

The picture attached is from their Tokyo trip. Baekhyun is facing the horizon at Roppongi Hills, his profile bathed in the orange glow. The adoration that flows through him is as bright and warm as the sky on that summer day.

Baekhyun types a response with a feigned casualness. There isn’t a reply that day or the following days. But the hope from that single email can tide him over until Taeyong’s return.

It’s snowing again the night Baekhyun receives his award for Designer of the Year. There are people from all areas across the fashion industry: designers, CEO’s, models. Lee Sungkyung hands him his award and Sora Choi praises his brand profusely before confessing to him that she would love to do a cover with him one day.

Taemin hugs him tightly, dropping a myriad of praises into his ear and posing for pictures with him after the show is over. Baekhyun mingles some more, takes pictures with other models, designers and old friends, relishing in the bliss of success and fulfillment. He’s supposed to go to the after party, but a text changes his mind on the spot.

Can u pick me up, Taeyong writes. There isn’t a moment’s hesitation for him; he’s saying goodbye to friends and excusing himself quickly from the glamorous figures who want to congratulate him.

The adrenaline from the night has begun to wear off, replaced by the more potent drug of nervousness pulsating through his system for seeing Taeyong in so long. It takes another minute after he’s parked and sent a quick text to announce his arrival for Taeyong to appear at the entrance of the building. His blond mane has grown, his slight frame swallowed by an oversized tie-dye sweatshirt—but it is the brilliant grin that he offers Baekhyun as he gets in the passenger seat that steals the air from his lungs. It’s not until he’s in his seat that Baekhyun finally believes he’s not a figment of his capricious imagination.

“Thanks for coming so soon,” Taeyong says. “It’s freezing out there.”

“No problem,” Baekhyun says. The keys are in the ignition. Neither of them move. He wants to stay there for a moment, just admiring Taeyong. “Is there somewhere you wanna go?”

Taeyong contemplates the question with a simper. “Our favorite place.”

“Right on,” Baekhyun says with a smile. There is a bag between Taeyong’s legs that he brought along with him. “What’s with the bag?”

“Oh.” Taeyong touches the bag. “I got you something.”

“Really?” Baekhyun’s wide-eyed. “You didn’t have to—”

“I just saw it and it reminded me of you,” Taeyong cuts in with feigned nonchalance, brushing over his sideburns. “You can open it later.”

The overlook is deserted on a cold evening in the dead of winter. They remain inside with the heating on since Taeyong didn’t bring a coat. The first thing Taeyong does is grab the bag and push it to Baekhyun with an expectant smile. Inside there is a Valentino shirt that Baekhyun already owns, and as he’s trying to remember what became of it, other memories of an evening in the backseat of his car rush in, raising his body temperature under his suit.

“I got it for you because, you know,” Taeyong is skimming the hair at the back of his neck, “the other one got dirty that time when…”

They share a meaningful glance. They’d had sex in the backseat and his shirt had gotten dirty in the process. It had been a fun night overall and currently he’s hit with a mix of nostalgia and embarrassment. Baekhyun giggles, bashful, and Taeyong spurts out a quiet little laugh.

“Oh shit, right.” Baekhyun puts the shirt back in the bag. “Thanks, I love it.”

“You look better in that suit,” Taeyong says. “So don’t think about putting it on right now.”

Baekhyun smiles, savoring the thick layer of flirtation in Taeyong’s voice. “You have a suit kink.”

“I won’t admit to anything.” Taeyong stifles a yawn. “Sorry, jetlag is kicking my ass a bit.”

“Did you arrive early?”

“This afternoon,” Taeyong replies. “Could’ve stayed home to sleep for two days but… I really wanted to see you tonight.”

Something constricts in his chest at the fact that Taeyong wanted to see him so badly, he forwent a good night’s sleep. “I’ve been wanting to see you since before you left.”

“I thought a lot about you while I was away,” Taeyong confesses. “Like every day. What you were doing, how you were doing... I convinced Jongin to keep me updated.”

“I thought about you all the time,” Baekhyun says. “But I wanted to give you space because I know I fucked up big time. I should’ve told you back then that I wanted you too.” He takes a breath. “I want this. Us. For real this time.”

Wonder lights up across Taeyong like a thousand stars sparkling over a firmament. There is undiluted joy too, sitting in the curls of his lips, and relief, of this overdue confession softening the frazzled edges of his demeanor. He’s all open, vulnerable and Baekhyun’s entire being burns with the desire to hold him in his arms.

As he reaches across the console, he fears the tremors of his chest would reach his limbs, but he manages to take ahold of Taeyong, his heart singing with elation for their fingers entwining.

“You already know how I feel about you,” Taeyong says in a quiet voice. “I told myself I should stop waiting, but a part of me kept hoping that you would… and that night you went to my apartment confirmed my hope.”

Taeyong has never been one to beat around the bush. From the outset, he’s never hesitated about what he wants. Baekhyun has a lot to learn from him.

Baekhyun puts the bag on the floor and pulls his seat back. Taeyong takes the hint and climbs over the console to him. It’s a tight fit, but he can wrap his arms around Taeyong like this and look at him closely—he’s always been the most beautiful man he’s ever met.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come around sooner.” Baekhyun sighs, brushing Taeyong’s bangs off his forehead. Taeyong blinks, sadness passing over his countenance like a cloud over the sun. “I’m sorry I was such a dumbass I guess.”

Taeyong smiles agreeably. “Taemin said you were a bit slow.”

“Of course he would chat shit about me,” Baekhyun jokes. It clears some of the heaviness in the air. Taeyong chuckles, visibly relaxing.

“He told me I should give you a chance anyway,” he says. “We did it all wrong… but we can start over.”

Baekhyun brushes his thumb over Taeyong’s knuckles. “Do you want to start over with me?”

Taeyong grins broad, bunching up with cheeks, gleaming with glee—and then he’s kissing Baekhyun in place of a response. They wind up in the backseat and take their clothes off with the ease and leisure of a learned habit. Watching Taeyong gasp and arch around him, to work him out with the same practiced effortlessness is one of the things he will never get tired of.

They bask in the afterglow in the dark, their legs tangled and their fingers linked. Now that Baekhyun has him he hates the idea of being away from him, even just an inch.

“I was so stupid for never telling you how I felt,” Baekhyun says. “But I just didn’t know how—and I thought you knew.”

“I can’t read minds,” Taeyong quips. “You said you wanted to be seen with other people and I freaked out…”

“Oh,” Baekhyun says, squeezing their hands, “because of your ex.”

Taeyong nods, tight-lipped. “But I blamed it all on you, despite being the one who believed that you didn’t like dating seriously and wasn’t brave enough to ask for more. I was head over heels for you and I was scared you would run away if I told you.”

“I’m not going to run away now.” Baekhyun kisses the back of his hand to seal the promise. “I…” A tremulous sigh. “I love you.”

Relief makes Taeyong’s expression crumble into something enthralling. Taeyong, already flushed, colors a delightful red.

“Say that again,” he pleads in a saccharine voice. Baekhyun laughs, embarrassed. “C’mon, one more time.”

“I love you.” Baekhyun cages his face and kisses him. “I really, really, really, love—”

Taeyong lunges at him, trapping him in a fervent kiss. Happiness explodes within Baekhyun with the vibrancy of fireworks. This happiness is real and it’s his.

Taeyong tries on the suit Baekhyun made for him at his apartment. The sunrise is breaking behind the tall buildings in the distance, streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Taeyong is radiant as he inspects his attire in the mirror. Baekhyun is crouched down at his feet, checking the hemming in the pant legs, and he looks up in reverence at the ethereal man in front of him. Definitively nobody has worn his clothes better than Taeyong.

“Baekhyun, this is amazing,” Taeyong says. “Why did you make this for me?”

“Because I told you I’d make something for you.” Baekhyun brushes the pants and gets to his feet. “I take it that you like it?”

“Shut up,” Taeyong exclaims, wheeling around and caging him with his arms, “how could I not love it? It’s incredible.”

“You’re gonna be my muse from now on,” Baekhyun proposes. “How about that?”

“I’d say you’re crazy,” Taeyong quips, “but I don’t mind.”

Baekhyun laughs, joyful to the brim. “Well, then.” He strokes his face. Taeyong’s smile becomes impossibly tender at the contact, and under the glow of sunrise, he looks beautiful. “Hope you don’t mind if I kiss you.”

“Go ahead,” Taeyong whispers and breaches the distance. In his lips there is the same bliss and devotion that is simmering in his heart. “How about we go to your room so you can take this suit off me?”

“Say no more!” Baekhyun lifts Taeyong in his arms, and struggling, lugs him to his room where he makes good of Taeyong’s suggestion.

“Woah, it is even prettier at night,” Taeyong says, snapping shots with his Nikon. “You think we can get to the top tomorrow?”

They’re at Place du Trocadéro amid groups of tourists capturing the Eiffel Tower a few hundred feet away. And Taeyong is right, it is a breathtaking view, incandescent under the Parisian summer night.

“Are you crazy?” Baekhyun says. His thighs ache from their trek across downtown Paris that day, he doesn’t think he could manage dozens upon dozens of staircases. “There are elevators for that.”

“I forgot I was dating an eighty-year-old man,” Taeyong quips. “Don’t worry, I can take you on my back if you get tired.”

“Very funny,” Baekhyun says. “Keep it up with the grandpa jokes and you’ll have to sleep on the floor tonight.”

Taeyong pouts an exaggerated amount. Baekhyun would never follow up on it—they have never had an argument that escalated to that level—but it’s worth teasing Taeyong for the way he employs his puppy eyes. And damn it if they don’t work on Baekhyun every single time.

“Why are you so freaking cute?” Baekhyun groans, squeezing Taeyong’s cheeks. Taeyong beams, eyes shut, and Baekhyun cups his face to kiss him. It’s a chaste, quick peck, but Taeyong winds his arms around his waist to prevent his escape.

They can do this here. And sure enough, the surrounding tourists are paying them no mind. It’s one of the reasons Baekhyun had booked a longer stay at his hotel upon planning the trip. But the main reason for their trip was Fashion Week: Delight had gotten an invitation for a presentation at the fashion show among other luxurious brands. Baekhyun was the last model to walk the runway for the show, wearing a piece from his newest collection of unisex suits. This is the biggest honor Baekhyun has gotten so far, and the press had presented it as such in the headlines where he posed with other distinguished designers.

Taeyong, of course, hadn’t hesitated to come along on the trip. They’re sort of a package deal; Taeyong spends so much time at his apartment, he doesn’t go to his own place in weeks. Baekhyun has been considering taking the next step to ask him to move in.

“Am I cute?” Taeyong queries coyly. Baekhyun levels him an unimpressed look because it’s the most obvious question ever. Taeyong giggles and fishes for another kiss, longer this time, deliberate. Baekhyun could never get tired of the way Taeyong kisses him, as though he would die if he doesn’t.

“That goes without saying,” Baekhyun murmurs, tucking a honey-brown strand behind Taeyong’s ear. There is a tiny Cupid’s arrow hanging from his earring, a birthday gift from Baekhyun. “You’re the cutest, prettiest, gorgest—”

“That isn’t a word,” Taeyong cuts in with a laugh. “But thanks for the compliment, Boss.”

Taeyong has a permanent collaboration at W and Vogue. There are global makeup brands looking his way for marketing campaigns as well. He has only returned to Delight to shoot occasionally in the past year since he quit, but in a recent exhibition of his work at a spacious gallery in Samcheong, he’d saved a special place for pictures of Baekhyun shot during his time at the brand.

“There’s no words to describe how pretty you are,” Baekhyun says. It’s half joking, half him being his cheesy self. Since Taeyong, that hidden part of him has been springing to the surface from time to time, never failing to embarrass Taeyong. Like in this very moment.

“God, you’re so…” Taeyong groans. “But I’ll let it pass because I love you.”

Hearing that from Taeyong hasn’t grown old at all in more than a year. Each time it turns Baekhyun into a mushy mess, shakes him right to his core, and this time is no exception: Baekhyun sputters incoherently and Taeyong laughs at his flustered reaction.

“How do you always catch me off guard?” Baekhyun whines. They press their foreheads together. Taeyong uses the proximity to peck Baekhyun’s nose. “It’s not fair. You do it on purpose.”

“Tell you that I love you?” Taeyong guffaws as Baekhyun whines again. “Yes, I do it on purpose just to see you blushing like mad.”

“And if I say that I love you too,” Baekhyun says, “wouldn’t you blush too?”

A flush appears on Taeyong’s cheeks like magic. Baekhyun laughs, triumphant, and kisses Taeyong again.

“Only because it’s true,” Taeyong says, going for a tiny kiss. “And it’s true you’re the only one for me.”

They have no secrets. Well, except one: a Tiffany ring Baekhyun has in his suitcase that he’s planning to give to Taeyong that evening. Taemin had supported his idea enthusiastically over the phone the previous day, and now, all he had to do was to pop the question.

“And you’ll be the only one for me,” Baekhyun says, “for as long as you’ll have me.”