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The problem wasn't Seonghwa. The problem was that Hongjoong had been looking at him his whole life, and suddenly, he didn't recognize him anymore.
They'd grown up two houses apart. Hongjoong had a mental album full of snapshots of Park Seonghwa: at seven years old, with a cast on his arm from falling off the swing Hongjoong was pushing; at fourteen, with braces and bangs way too long, ugly-crying because he'd failed a math test; at eighteen, at graduation, looking exactly like himself but with a slightly more defined nose, hugging him with the familiarity of a brother.
Then Seonghwa went away for college. And Hongjoong stayed.
Two years. Two years of video calls at ungodly hours, memes sent over Instagram, and a silence that was never awkward. Until now.
Seonghwa had come back to town that morning. The plan was the usual: order pizza, put on a bad movie, and tear it apart from the basement couch at Hongjoong's place. It was their tradition, their safe space. Hongjoong was expecting his friend's lanky frame, his over-the-top faces, and his infectious laugh.
What he wasn't expecting was for the door to open and for that to walk in.
The guy standing in front of him had the same jet-black hair, but now it fell over his forehead with a studied precision, swept to one side to reveal an eyebrow piercing Hongjoong didn't know about. The face was the same, but the cheekbones looked sharper, and the jawline had lost any trace of teenage softness. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt, but it was the fit that was criminal. His arms… where the hell had those arms come from? And those veins snaking down his forearms as he held a bottle of wine instead of the usual soda?
"Joong?" Seonghwa's voice was the same, warm and deep, but Hongjoong couldn't process it. His eyes swept up and down his friend's figure and stopped at a specific spot. A narrow strip of skin peeked out between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his black jeans. A sculpted, firm stomach. An abyss.
Hongjoong's silence stretched a second too long. Seonghwa tilted his head, confused.
"You okay? Cat got your tongue?"
"When did you get hot?" The question slipped out of Hongjoong's mouth without his brain's permission.
It was like time stopped. Seonghwa blinked once, twice. A spark of surprise crossed his eyes, followed by a grin that started out amused and slowly morphed into something more dangerous, sharper. Something that made Hongjoong's stomach twist.
"Excuse me?" Seonghwa asked, way too calm.
Hongjoong wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He felt the heat creep up his neck, a furious blush threatening to betray him completely.
"No, I was just... kidding," he mumbled, turning around abruptly and walking toward the kitchen like a soldier in retreat. "It's an expression, okay? Like... 'wow, you've changed.' That's all. Pizza? I'll order the usual."
He heard Seonghwa's calm footsteps following him. The sound of the wine bottle hitting the kitchen counter was deafening.
"Hongjoong." The voice wasn't a request; it was a soft command. He waited for him to turn around. When he did, Seonghwa was way closer than he expected, leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed in a way that, unintentionally, emphasized every defined line. "You think I didn't notice?"
"Notice what?" Hongjoong's voice came out high-pitched, and he hated himself for it.
"That you weren't looking at my eyes when I walked in." Seonghwa's grin was a triumphant bow. "That your gaze went all the way down to here." He gestured vaguely at his abdomen, almost innocent.
Hongjoong felt like he was suffocating. Seonghwa took one step, then another, cornering him against the opposite counter. The scent was still the same fabric softener, but underneath there was something new, a woody, citrusy cologne that was very, very adult.
"I came back because I was dying to see you," Seonghwa murmured, leaning in until their faces were just inches apart. His eyebrow piercing glinted under the dim kitchen light. "And you, my dear childhood friend, hit me with 'when did you get hot?'"
His tone was a perfect mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. Hongjoong could feel the heat radiating off his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, his last act of defense.
"I didn't get hot, dummy. I've always been here," Seonghwa whispered. His right hand lifted, and his fingers grazed Hongjoong's hip, a touch as light as a feather, but it sent an electric current straight to his chest. "What I don't know is when you became such a coward that you can't admit what you just saw."
Hongjoong opened his eyes. There was Seonghwa, not the blurry memory of a teenager, not the best friend, but a gorgeous man looking at him like he'd just invented fire.
"Fine," Hongjoong admitted, his own voice sounding weird, deeper. "You're a sight, Park Seonghwa. You're ridiculously hot and it's seriously unfair. Happy now?"
Seonghwa's grin widened, but he didn't move. He didn't close the distance. Instead, his hand slid up from Hongjoong's hip to his throat, his thumb pressing gently at the base of it. A shiver ran down the shorter guy's spine.
"Not quite," Seonghwa replied, his voice a low purr. "Say it again. Without looking away."
The dare hung in the air between them. Hongjoong felt like he couldn't breathe, but not because of the pressure on his throat—because of the intensity of those dark eyes locked on his. He wet his lips with his tongue and watched Seonghwa's gaze drop immediately to his mouth.
"You're hot," he repeated, this time lower, rougher. "Ever since you walked in, I haven't been able to stop staring. It's pathetic."
Something shifted in Seonghwa's face. The teasing disappeared, replaced by a raw hunger that made Hongjoong shudder. But still, he didn't kiss him. His fingers slid along Hongjoong's jaw, tilting his face up, leaving his neck exposed. Seonghwa lowered his head and brushed his lips against the skin below Hongjoong's ear, just a graze, a whisper of contact.
"You know how many times I thought about this?" he murmured against his skin, his warm breath raising goosebumps everywhere. "Having you like this, still for me. Hearing you admit you look at me."
Hongjoong let out a quiet moan, his hands gripping the counter so he wouldn't fall. Seonghwa smiled against his neck and nibbled on his earlobe before pulling away, leaving a cold void where there used to be heat.
"Pizza can wait," he announced, grabbing Hongjoong's hand and pulling him toward the stairs that led to the basement.
The basement was dim, lit only by the bluish glow of the TV playing on mute. Seonghwa didn't stop until they reached the couch, where he gently pushed Hongjoong to sit down. But instead of joining him, he stayed standing in front of him, looking down.
"Take off your shirt," he ordered, his voice calm but firm.
Hongjoong obeyed without thinking, his fingers clumsy on the buttons of his loose shirt. The fabric fell to the floor, and Seonghwa let out a shaky breath. His eyes roamed over Hongjoong's torso—his narrow chest, his slim waist, his pale skin that seemed to glow in the dark.
"Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, before finally leaning in.
The kiss wasn't sudden; it was calculated, restrained. Seonghwa held Hongjoong's face with both hands, his thumbs stroking his cheekbones as their lips met. At first, it was just pressure, a soft contact asking for permission. Hongjoong parted his mouth with a sigh, and Seonghwa deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting Hongjoong's in a slow, exploratory dance. He tasted like red wine and something sweeter, something Hongjoong recognized as the cherry gum he always chewed. It pulled a guttural moan from him, and his hands clung to Seonghwa's t-shirt, tugging at it.
They pulled apart just long enough for Seonghwa to get rid of his own shirt. Hongjoong held his breath at the sight: the sculpted torso, the defined abs, the narrow trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Without the barrier of clothes, the difference between them was obvious; Seonghwa was broader across the shoulders, firmer, more imposing.
"Lie down," Seonghwa said, and his voice had lost all trace of teasing. It was pure need.
Hongjoong lay back on the couch, his heart hammering in his chest. Seonghwa positioned himself over him, one knee between his thighs, his weight an anchor keeping him grounded. He lowered his head and started kissing Hongjoong's neck, this time with intent, sucking and nibbling until a bruise bloomed where shoulder met neck. Hongjoong arched his back, his hips instinctively searching for friction.
"Slow," Seonghwa murmured against his skin, his free hand pressing Hongjoong's hip down against the couch, pinning him. "I've waited two years for this. I'm not rushing."
His mouth traveled down Hongjoong's chest, leaving a wet trail of kisses and bites. When his lips wrapped around a nipple, Hongjoong moaned out loud, his fingers burying themselves in Seonghwa's black hair.
"Hwa..." he gasped. It was the first time he'd used the nickname all night, and the effect was immediate.
Seonghwa lifted his head, his pupils blown, his breathing uneven. He sat up and his fingers went to the button of Hongjoong's jeans.
"Lift your hips."
Hongjoong obeyed without hesitation. The jeans and underwear slid down his legs, and Seonghwa tossed them to the floor impatiently. Hongjoong was left completely exposed under his gaze.
"Look at you," Seonghwa said, his voice rough. "So pretty for me."
A blush spread across Hongjoong's cheeks. He'd never felt so vulnerable or so wanted. He moved to cover himself, but Seonghwa caught both his wrists with one hand and pinned them above his head.
"Don't hide," he warned, his tone both a caress and a command. "I want to see you."
With his free hand, Seonghwa unbuttoned his own jeans and freed himself from the fabric. Hongjoong's breath caught at the sight; he was just as perfect as the rest of him, long and thick, already slick at the tip.
"I was gonna do this right," Seonghwa said, more to himself than to Hongjoong, as he pulled a small packet of lube from his back pocket. "I was gonna wait and prep you the way you deserve."
"I don't wanna wait," Hongjoong begged.
Seonghwa smiled, that dangerous smile from before.
"I know. But I do wanna hear you beg a little more."
He tore the packet open and coated his fingers generously. He lowered his hand, and Hongjoong felt a cold, slick finger tracing slow circles around his entrance. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
"Look at me," Seonghwa demanded, and when Hongjoong obeyed, he pushed the first finger inside.
It was slow, careful. Hongjoong moaned, his hips shifting against the intrusion. Seonghwa kept his wrists pinned while he worked patiently, adding a second finger when he felt Hongjoong relax. He curled it, searching for that spot, and found it because Hongjoong let out a strangled cry.
"There it is," Seonghwa murmured with satisfaction. "Now tell me what you want."
"I want you," Hongjoong's voice was a broken thread. "Please, Hwa. Inside me."
Something in Seonghwa's self-control snapped. He withdrew his fingers carefully and positioned himself between Hongjoong's open legs. He leaned over him, forehead against forehead, their breath mingling.
"If it hurts, you stop me."
"It's not gonna hurt," Hongjoong promised, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I trust you."
Seonghwa kissed him once, with unexpected tenderness, before lining up his hips and pushing in. The first thrust was slow, letting Hongjoong adjust. They both groaned in unison as Seonghwa sank all the way in, their bodies fitting together like they were made for this moment.
They stayed still for a moment, breathing against each other.
"Move," Hongjoong whispered against his lips. "You can now."
Seonghwa started to move. Slowly at first, with deep, controlled thrusts that pulled gasps from Hongjoong. But soon the pace turned more urgent, more erratic. Seonghwa released his wrists, and Hongjoong wrapped his legs around him, his heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper.
The couch creaked beneath them. The TV was still on, casting dancing shadows over their sweaty bodies. Seonghwa buried his face in Hongjoong's neck, biting and moaning as the pleasure built low in his belly.
"So tight," he growled. "So perfect. Mine."
"Yours," Hongjoong confirmed, his nails raking down Seonghwa's back. "Always yours."
Seonghwa propped himself up slightly and brought a hand to Hongjoong's neglected cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. Hongjoong sobbed, overstimulated, the pleasure pooling at the base of his spine. He wasn't gonna last long.
"I'm gonna... Hwa, I'm gonna..."
"Do it," Seonghwa gasped, his own rhythm becoming erratic. "Wanna see you."
It was the command that undid him. Hongjoong came with a cry of Seonghwa's name, his back arching, his body clenching around Seonghwa. The taller man followed three thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt as he found his own release with a guttural moan.
He collapsed on top of Hongjoong, his weight a comforting balm. They both panted, catching their breath. Seonghwa's fingers traced lazy circles on Hongjoong's arm.
"For the record," Seonghwa mumbled against his skin, his voice rough and satisfied. "I've been looking at you too. You just never noticed."
Hongjoong let out a disbelieving laugh, weakly smacking his shoulder.
"Idiot."
"Your idiot," Seonghwa corrected, lifting his head to look at him with those dark eyes now soft, glinting. "Your idiot who came home."
And when their lips met this time, it was soft. It was a promise. It was coming home after two years of not knowing you were lost.