12 {1/2 - bap au oneshot}
title: 12 {1/2}
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: pg-13
pairing(s): banghim, himlo
summary: three-hundred sixty-five days
a/n: i wanted to try this bc of ZIA's For a Year that wouldn't leave my head and i wanted to try something with like minimal narration that had lots of time between each little drabble piece and left a lot of figuring out to the audience and yeah ;A; i yeah
{PART ONE} { PART TWO}
2013
january 1st
They meet as friends of friends of friends (they’re strangers) at a New Year’s Eve party of one of those friends of friends of friends. They meet at the end of the night, just as the countdown is starting, and both of them are appropriately inebriated when their mouths collide and they fall into a taxi together. It starts off as a New Year’s kiss when the midnight arrived and the entire house erupted into celebration, a cacophony of congratulations and streamers and glasses clinking. They escape being drenched in champagne (because Himchan likes this suit and Yongguk doesn’t want his hair smelling like alcohol for a week), falling out the door, into the cab, entwined in each other’s arms.
Himchan detaches his mouth from Yongguk’s long enough to give the driver the address to Himchan’s apartment.
They’re drunk enough that they’re somehow aware on a higher level that they won’t remember this in the morning. Yongguk won’t remember how Himchan burst into laughter when Yongguk’s tongue ran up the undersides of Himchan’s thighs. Himchan won’t remember how Yongguk, trying to blindly reach for a condom, nearly bashed his own head on the lamp on Himchan’s nightstand. Neither of them will remember how they both nearly suffocated kissing each other through their orgasms because they were so wasted, they forgot they could breathe through their noses.
Himchan falls asleep seconds after he comes, right on top of Yongguk, and Yongguk doesn’t bother rolling him off. Yongguk falls asleep with an arm wrapped tight around Himchan’s waist.
Both of them know how one night stands work, both of them have had one night stands before, both of them have their own morning after routines. Himchan wakes up first-late enough that it’s nearly lunchtime-head pounding, and body screaming for coffee. He forgoes underwear and a shirt, throws on sweatpants, and picks up Yongguk’s scattered clothes. Himchan folds them and hangs them over the bedpost, and heads to the kitchen to put on a pot of the darkest brew just as Yongguk starts to rouse.
Yongguk doesn’t bother with clothes-hopes that he can steal a shower before he leaves-and walks out of the bedroom only to collapse onto Himchan’s sofa, facing away from the kitchen and out the grand windows of the apartment. He smells eggs, steaming rice, and glorious-glorious-black coffee from behind him. He only gets a minute to silently clutch at his throbbing head before the cushions of the sofa are perturbed and he glances over at a face he’s looked at for an entire night but can’t clearly recall.
Himchan sets down two piping hot mugs before he sits down easily next to Yongguk. “Happy New Year,” he grins, and Yongguk doesn’t remember how attractive he found Himchan last night, judgment all but ruined from the alcohol, but in the daylight, Yongguk mentally pats himself on the back.
“Mine?” Yongguk asks, and points to the mug in front of him.
“Yours,” Himchan says, amused and takes a sip of his own.
Yongguk finishes half the contents before he sets it down and says proudly, “I remember your name.”
“Yeah?” Himchan slides a little closer, turning his body so that they’re face to face. “Remember yours too.”
Yongguk glances at him with his own grin. “You first.”
“Bang,” Himchan says without hesitation, “Yong-guk?” He looks at Yongguk.
“Good guess,” Yongguk says and Himchan shoves at him. Yongguk pretends to think for a moment, folding his arms and cocking his head to the side. “Himchan,” he says first, slowly, and Himchan snorts and rolls his eyes. “Kim,” Yongguk raises his eyebrows. “Kim Himchan.”
“Fucking drink your coffee,” Himchan laughs.
Yongguk stretches his arms over his head, leaning and sinking into the sofa’s back cushions. He tilts his head back, resting it against the edge, eyes scanning the ceiling lazily. His eyes slip to the side to watch Himchan’s silhouette illuminated by late morning sunlight. “You’re Daehyunie’s hyung from work, right?” Yongguk asks eventually, as Himchan rounds off his coffee.
Himchan glances over, mild surprise in his eyes. “Yeah.” He blinks. “Sorry-I forgot-you’re his-?”
“I was a few grades above him in high school,” Yongguk says. “We lived pretty close so we played together when we were kids.”
“Ah.”
Yongguk glances around the apartment once and then comes back to look at Himchan. “D’you mind if I shower before I go?”
“Go ahead,” Himchan shrugs, picking up both mugs and standing at the same time Yongguk does. Yongguk heads for the door he’s determined as the bathroom, and out of the corner of his eye, he watches Himchan head towards the kitchen to put the mugs in the sink. Something lights up at the back of Yongguk’s mind as Himchan reaches the threshold of the living room.
“Himchan-shii,” Yongguk calls, halfway between the living room and the bathroom door.
Himchan pauses midway to the sink, mugs still in either hand. He turns with raised eyebrows.
Yongguk swallows, licks his lips. “Are you doing anything Friday next week?”
A moment of surprise passes through Himchan’s eyes for the time it takes Yongguk’s heart to stutter, and then Himchan is smiling. “Think I’m free.”
Yongguk grins back.
(when he comes out of the shower, Himchan’s number is scrawled messily on a sticky note stuck to Yongguk’s folded shirt)
2013
february 25th
Himchan kneels up on the bed, front leaning into Yongguk’s back, arms wrapping around the other man’s shoulders from behind. Yongguk’s head tilts down against Himchan’s shoulder, their cheeks pressed warmly together and the city lights shining in through Yongguk’s bedroom window cast shadows against their faces. The skin of Yongguk’s back is still damp with sweat, sticking to Himchan’s chest, and Himchan is sure that Yongguk can feel Himchan’s uneven breathing-still panting from orgasms just moments ago.
“So,” Himchan says slowly, “he cheated on you.”
“His family made him,” Yongguk says quietly, and Himchan thinks there might be something defensive in the other man’s tone.
“Whether he did it for himself or for his parents’ money, he still did it,” but Himchan tightens his arms around Yongguk and hopes that’s enough to take the edge away from his words. He presses lips into Yongguk’s hair and Yongguk turns his face and buries it against Himchan’s arms. Himchan whistles softly. “The worst ex I had was in high school,” he says thoughtfully.
Yongguk glances at him, eyes still heavy but Himchan catches the tiny light of curiosity that’s started to creep in. “What’d he do?”
“She,” Himchan corrects with a tiny grin. “She used me.”
Yongguk’s brow furrows. “To make someone jealous?”
“Homework.”
Himchan ends up having to let go of Yongguk because the other man falls forward off the bed in laughter, doubled over and nearly shouting with it. Himchan leans back on his palms and enjoys the sight of Yongguk smiling again, hopefully no longer reminiscing on past pains and wounds at least for the moment. Yongguk is curled on the floor shaking with mirth for a good two minutes before he comes back up onto the bed, flopping on his back and looking up at Himchan with a grin that’s suddenly as grateful as it is amused.
“Seriously?” Yongguk asks.
Himchan puts on a solemn face. “Seriously.”
“Were your grades even that good?”
“I was a fucking genius,” Himchan says, waving a hand airily.
Yongguk shakes his head with a grin, reaching up and cupping a hand against the back of Himchan’s neck, bringing him down until Himchan is leaning over Yongguk, lips moments apart. “Thanks,” Yongguk whispers, right before he kisses Himchan.
2013
march 18th
Somehow, spring still refuses to arrive and it snows during the month flowers should be blossoming. It’s light but it’s unexpected and icy enough that at least most elementary schools call the day off. Himchan texts Yongguk that he doesn’t have to teach today so Yongguk, who’s had the entire week off because his studio is having repairs done, risks the mild ice and snow to take Himchan out to lunch. They’ve had each other the passcodes to each other’s apartments for a month now, and Yongguk lets himself in when he arrives.
Himchan isn’t anywhere in the living room or the kitchen when Yongguk comes in. The television is on the weather channel, most likely because Himchan had been checking earlier whether his school was open or not. Yongguk catches Himchan’s phone on the ottoman, opened to a text by Daehyun, ironically enough celebrating about how they don’t have to teach today because the school is closed for snow. Yongguk grins at that, and ambles on deeper into the apartment.
The shower isn’t on, the bathroom door is open and it’s dark inside, so Yongguk passes by and heads straight on for the bedroom. Himchan’s bare back faces the door, head bent as he zips up his jeans. “Fucking spying pervert,” Himchan says, as Yongguk throws his arms around Himchan’s waist and spins him around. Hair falls damp from a recent shower into Himchan’s eyes, pale skin flushed lightly from the warmth of the shower steam, lips curled into a tiny smile, and Yongguk never wants to let go of him.
“How many times did Daehyunie text you that school was closed?” Yongguk asks with a grin.
“Seventeen,” Himchan says. “I didn’t even have to check the weather, really-I just had the TV on for the roads.” He twines his arms around Yongguk’s neck. “To be fair, his kids’ve been nasty lately.”
“Your kids are good?”
Himchan flashes a smile that makes Yongguk’s breath catch, head spin, heart pound, and chest ache all at once. “My kids have me.”
Yongguk squeezes Himchan’s hips. “Lucky them.”
2013
april 7th
Lazy Sunday mornings are spent at Yongguk’s more than Himchan’s because Himchan likes getting away from the mountains and mountains of papers that surround his apartment during the midst of the school year. Yongguk’s work stays at his office, and the most that he brings home is contained in his laptop. Himchan likes Yongguk’s apartment because of how everything seems to live and breathe music the way Yongguk does. Even though Yongguk produces in his studio downtown, he writes at home and Himchan sees notebooks shelved and stacked, filled with lyrics and scribbled notes.
Sometimes Himchan brings the work he needs to grade to Yongguk’s because it doesn’t seem like work anymore when he’s marking papers with Yongguk’s head resting in his lap. Most times Yongguk sleeps, a late afternoon nap because he needs to stock up on sleep for late hours during the week at the recording studio. Other times, he’ll compose, notebook or iPad propped up on his stomach while Himchan has to prop his own papers up on a textbook.
Eventually, Himchan will fall asleep too, sometimes tangled with Yongguk on the sofa, other times on the plush carpet beneath, with his hand still somehow resting on Yongguk’s rising and falling chest.
2013
may 22nd
It’s spring, officially, and Himchan has allergies, but it rained the day before, his medication is at the peak of its performance, so he and Yongguk can take a nighttime walk around the block for a run for drinks at the convenience store near Himchan’s house without the teacher’s eyes turning redder than an apple and bleeding phlegm through his nose. They walk with intertwined hands down the streets beneath the light shining from the lampposts, beers held in their free hands, shoulders brushing, laughs mingling, grins meeting.
They reach a street corner by the time Yongguk finishes telling Himchan about how he’s about to start concept meetings for a group’s comeback, and then it’s Himchan’s turn to relay exciting news (because more often than not, it’s Yongguk who’s finished this group’s album or featured this soloist in a new track or is having renovations done to this part of his studio or getting invited to that group’s first concert, and Himchan loves his own job but his version of noteworthy more often than not is being able to watch rival parents get into a slap fight at PTO meetings).
“An intern?” Yongguk echoes, and Himchan takes in a deep gulp of his beer as they wait for the crossing light to change.
“Maybe,” Himchan says, “if he passes my interview, he’ll start training next week and then his internship’ll be in the summer.”
The red hand switches to a green, walking figure, but Yongguk presses Himchan against the metal post, fingers moving the bottle’s neck back so his hands are as free as they can be to grip Himchan’s hips (and maybe this is why they always end up walking late at night when the streets are emptier-sometimes Himchan teases Yongguk, as they don snapbacks low on their heads, that it feels like they’re those idols Yongguk writes songs for, sneaking around to avoid the press). “Go easy on him,” Yongguk says, leaning in with a playfully solemn face.
Himchan’s eyebrows quirk indifferently. “Why should I?”
“Because you’re a hardass,” Yongguk shrugs (grins). “Kim-seonsaengnim.”
Himchan shoves Yongguk away from him, and the producer bursts into laughter as his back hits the hedge lining the sidewalk. “I told you not to call me that,” Himchan yells, loudly enough that the drivers in the cars at the nearby red light turn their heads. Yongguk is still grinning, entirely too pleased with himself, and Himchan can’t seem stop himself from grinning back.
“We’re not fucking or anything,” Yongguk points out because he does remember the way Himchan shriveled humorously the first time Yongguk decided to try teasing him with that.
“Do you know how awkward it is,” Himchan says, and it looks safe enough for Yongguk to come back and frame Himchan against the pole-so he does, “to have you call me something that-like-my six-year-olds call me?”
“But, ssaem,” Yongguk laughs, and Himchan kicks him in the shin this time.
The cars stop and go and stop and go countless times before Yongguk and Himchan are finally in any state to cross the street. The cars stop and go and stop and go countless times, and Yongguk kisses Himchan every time they miss another signal change. They toss their beers into the nearest trash can before they line up to give crossing the street one last try, hands intertwined again.
The red hand switches to a green, walking figure. “What’s the kid’s name?” Yongguk asks, as they step off the curb.
Himchan glances at him. “Mm-the one I’m interviewing? Choi Junhong.”
2013
june 17th
The mood Himchan arrives in early Monday morning promotes everything but the correct mindset to handle some twenty-odd young children. The fight with Yongguk had lasted throughout the entire weekend, and last night there had been a hasty reconciliation in light of how they wouldn’t be seeing much of each other this coming week (Yongguk is now in the midst of recording sessions and Himchan has to stay after school late in coming months to prepare his students, and help the other teachers with theirs, for exams).
But it hadn’t repaired much and Himchan feels like it’d actually done absolutely nothing at all. He still feels angry, still feels irritated, still feels hurt, and still feels like he needs to look into Yongguk’s face and scream before anything can be resolved thoroughly. He was entirely all too close to calling in for a sub and not coming to class at all, but exam time is approaching, and Himchan has an intern to guide.
With all that said and done, it doesn’t make it any better when Himchan comes face-to-face with Junhong putting a piping, cup of coffee down on Himchan’s desk in the teachers’ office. Just the sight of the intern irritates Himchan to an indescribable degree, and all Junhong has done was bow a greeting at the sight of Himchan coming in. Junhong has been the paper-definition of a perfect college intern, and the first thing Himchan says to him, as he sits down and takes in the mountain of papers that Himchan himself forgot to bring home over the weekend to grade, is a prompt, “Why the fuck haven’t you graded these?”
Junhong blinks, eyebrows disappearing and eyes stretching. “I,” he clears his throat, hands instantly held in front of himself in a standard pose of confused apology, “I thought you were going to-you didn’t-sir-”
“Finish them by today,” Himchan says curtly, “and have them filed into the students folders so they can look them over tomorrow. Make sure you leave constructive comments on all of their rubrics so they can rewrite their essays for this Friday, and file all of the grades into my gradebook before you enter them into the system. Passwords are in my filing cabinet, first folder, and my gradebook is in the classroom.”
He doesn’t look at Junhong as the younger man bows once, deep and long with his hands at his sides, before turning on his heel with the piles upon piles of papers balanced in his arms.
It’s not until lunchtime, when Himchan walks by the staff lounge and catches two of his female students trying to climb on top of each other to peer through the door window, that he realizes his anger has fully left him. He’s in his usual mood now whenever he’s at school, and that mood is everything bouncy and playful because he loves his students (he does) and he loves his colleagues, and whereas he might’ve yelled at the two little girls earlier, he just laughs and walks up to them even though they should both be outside with the other kids.
“Yerin-ah, Chaeyoung-ah,” he calls brightly, and both girls nearly crumple to the floor in surprise, faces flaming as they turn to him with their hands folded over their stomachs. “Not playing outside today?”
They exchange glances before Yerin says nervously, determinedly, “Why’s Choi-ssaem not outside like he always is?”
Himchan raises his eyebrows.
“Choi-ssaem said he’s gonna show us how to dance,” Chaeyoung adds, and she waves her little hands in front of her face.
And Himchan’s throat suddenly feels a little tight. He puts his hands on each of the girls’ backs and steers them towards the hall that leads to the playground. “Go outside and play,” he says at their frowns, “I’ll get Choi-ssaem out there as fast as I can.”
They still look doubtful as they link hands and start walking away from him, ponytail and pigtail swinging side by side. Himchan waits until they’ve turned the corner before he opens the door to the staff lounge and, there sitting at the center table, is Junhong surrounded by the loads upon loads of paperwork that Himchan should have graded himself over the weekend (instead of wasting time fighting with Yongguk over something Himchan can’t even remember what they started it over).
“Stop,” Himchan says, and Junhong looks up, blinking in surprise with his red pen in mid stroke. “Go outside, Junhong-ah.”
Junhong blinks again. “What?” He shakes his head. “I mean-sorry?”
Himchan takes the pen out of the intern’s hand and snorts. “Go teach Yerinie and Chaeyoungie how to dance.”
The younger man stares.
“Are you going to make me feel guilty for another fifteen minutes or are you going to dance for my girls?” Himchan finally says, and he may or may not be grinning. Junhong seems to tentatively return the grin with his own hesitant smile-slow-spreading but warm, as he stands up.
“I got through most of them, sir,” Junhong says, as he gathers his phone from the table and slips it into his pocket. He gestures generally out at the neatly stacked, closed folders on the left side.
“Thanks, Junhong-ah.” Himchan sits down, and swallows a sigh at the stacks of essays still left despite how fast Junhong already worked within the last few hours. He’s about to start sorting the first stack in front of him to make it easier when he’s suddenly met by another chair being pulled across from him-by Junhong’s hands grabbing back the essay and pen he had been holding when Himchan came in.
It’s Himchan’s turn to stare.
Junhong gives another hesitant grin. “I think Yerin and Chaeyoung can wait ‘til tomorrow, sir,” he says.
Himchan looks down and smiles at the essay he’s pulled in front of himself. “Junhong-ah?”
The intern glances up.
“Don’t call me sir,” Himchan says.
“Himchan-hyung,” Junhong tries with raised eyebrows and dancing eyes.
Himchan smiles again.
2013
july 6th
Yongguk doesn’t know why he’s so irritated. He doesn’t understand why he’s this pissed off. It’s that horrible sort of growing anger where it rises up inside of your body like licking flames and you can’t stamp it out. He’s just angry-he’s absolutely furious-and there’s impatience in every breath he takes. It takes everything that he has not to throw whatever is within reach at Himchan’s face. He’s gripping the edge of the countertop behind him to stop himself from digging his nails into his palms until the skin breaks.
This is far from the first time Himchan has been too busy to come home, and this is far from the first time Himchan has been too busy to go with Yongguk to an awards event. Himchan has only been to three out of the dozens Yongguk has been invited to attend in the months they’ve been dating and it isn’t as if this one is any more important than previous ones, but for some reason, the flippant way Himchan excuses himself from it because he’s too tired-because a tutoring session might run late-because he just doesn’t feel like it this time around-and the final reason, because it’s a film festival and not a music awards show so Yongguk isn’t going to be up for anything so why does Yongguk even have to attend, why does Himchan even have to attend-
Yongguk snaps and his temper shatters into pieces and Himchan retaliates in every sense of the word.
Because we haven’t seen each other in weeks, and Yongguk spits it out through gritted teeth.
Because you haven’t been home in weeks, and the way Himchan says it, the way his eyes pierce Yongguk with accusations leaves Yongguk breathless from the unfairness.
Because I’m busy-just like you-just like you’re too busy to go with me to this one thing, and Yongguk hopes that Himchan feels every drop of venom in Yongguk’s tone because right now Yongguk is furious and he hates Himchan and he hates Himchan and he hates Himchan and he never thought he could hate Himchan.
Because I’m tired-you’re tired-we’re both tired-so why don’t you just skip this and fucking get some sleep so you don’t take how tired you are out on me, Bang Yongguk, and Himchan is shouting now, standing across the room from Yongguk, too much space in between them and everything about Himchan’s stance screams closed closed closed.
I’m not taking it out on you, Kim Himchan, and Yongguk wants to scream back but suddenly he is tired and suddenly everything hurts and suddenly he can’t look at Himchan’s eyes but he does anyway because this isn’t supposed to be like this.
Himchan swallows tightly, as Yongguk takes a deep breath and steps slowly forward-covering the distance between them until the space is gone and Yongguk can cup Himchan’s face. Himchan’s fingers thread gently-apologetically-through Yongguk’s hair. Their eyes meet and Yongguk almost tears his gaze away because somehow looking at Himchan so closely hurts (everything hurts a lot more recently, and Yongguk doesn’t know why and it can’t be because they’re falling apart because they’re not).
Let’s talk more tomorrow, and Himchan leans in to press his lips over Yongguk’s.
Okay
2013
august 31st
Himchan invites Junhong over for dinner with himself and Yongguk. He and Yongguk cook it together at Himchan’s apartment beforehand, and it’s an all day sort of thing. They take it slow after lunch, watching television and listening to music while they do it-they talk while they cook, flirt, kiss, and manage to have sex twice while the roast is in the oven finishing up. There’s surprisingly no fighting-none at all-and Himchan is both relieved and bitter that there’s now a time when a day that he and Yongguk don’t fight is a special occasion that needs to be relieved for at all.
(the past month they’ve fought and fought and fought and they’ve gone days without speaking to each other at times and Himchan doesn’t know what to do and neither of them talk about it when they’re not fighting because whenever the mood is light, it’s too fragile to risk upsetting)
Inviting Junhong is something that Daehyun and Himchan had planned to do together for the intern, since Junhong’s internship would be ending next month and he’d resume his studies on a full schedule, but Daehyun is called out for a conference last minute and Junhong always has too much homework to go drinking with the other teachers. So for this, Himchan is alone, and Yongguk’s been wanting to meet Junhong for weeks now because of how much Himchan has been mentioning him at home-because Junhong is just that efficient of an intern.
As it turns out, when Junhong arrives and once they’re all seated with food in front of them and alcohol to move the conversation along, Junhong has been wanting to meet Yongguk ever since Himchan mentioned to the intern that Yongguk is a producer-that Yongguk is a rapper. They talk rap for an hour until Himchan interjects that if they don’t start on something classical or traditional soon, he’s going to conk out drunk on the couch from boredom and Yongguk and Junhong both laugh.
Dinner ends with Yongguk promising to take Junhong to his studio one day to fool around, and Junhong promising Yongguk that once every while he’ll force Himchan out of the office to get some fresh air during the lunch break instead of cramming in more practice exams for the students. Himchan rolls his eyes at that, and pushes Junhong playfully out the door so he can walk him down outside the apartment complex.
“The odds,” Himchan says as the elevator descends, only the two of them inside of it at this late hour, “of your intern being okay with you liking guys because he likes guys.”
Junhong grins. “The odds,” the younger man says, “of your supervisor being a short guy with a horrible temper who makes awesome fried rice.”
“Yah,” Himchan cocks his head, glowering, reaching up to thwack Junhong’s skull, “you just need to stop growing, Choi Junhong.”
Junhong catches Himchan’s wrist before the teacher’s palm makes contact with the younger man’s head. He laughs. “That’s abuse, Kim-ssaem.”
“Then stop being a smartass to your elders, Choi-hakusen,” Himchan shoots back playfully, a laugh laced through his own voice. He draws back his hand and settles for tousling Junhong’s hair.
Junhong grins as the elevator doors open. “So you admit you’re old?”
Himchan barely manages to strangle the younger man before Junhong dances out of grasp and the elevator doors close again to the sight of Junhong waving a goodnight at Himchan.
Himchan isn’t sure why, but his spirits lift as the elevator ascends back to his floor. And by the time Yongguk opens the door to let him back in, Himchan is throwing himself at the other man and covering Yongguk’s lips in a searing kiss. Yongguk draws away with laughter and Himchan just grins at him as he’s pulled into the apartment with the door slamming shut behind them. “What?” Himchan challenges at Yongguk’s amused and surprised gaze.
“You’re in a good mood,” Yongguk comments lightly, and his hands have already slipped beneath Himchan’s sweater and shirt, fingers warm against the skin of Himchan’s hipbones.
Himchan just hums in response and pushes Yongguk backward towards the bedroom. Yongguk lets out another short burst of laughter before it’s muffled by Himchan’s mouth and then Himchan’s hands find the button and zipper to the other man’s jeans. They press each other into walls, over tables, down on chairs, falling to the floor again and again before they finally reach the bed, clothes dropping off of them like a trail of breadcrumbs into the bedroom.
He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly breathlessly happy but he attributes it to how today seemed to be a sign that the rough month he and Yongguk went through was just that-a rough month, something all relationships had to muddle through before continuing into a better forever. He does know that tonight isn’t the time to mull introspectively over futures and the mechanics of relationships because all that fills Himchan’s mind is heat and wet and writhing and moaning and pleasure with a bit of pain and then more pleasure and warmth and laughter when he’s so close to orgasm that he feels insane and then he does orgasm again and again and again and again and he loses track of how many times he and Yongguk go at each other that night.
(on the bed, against the wall, on the floor, on the sofa, in a chair, in the kitchen, in the shower, over the sink, on the sink, over a table, sprawled out on Himchan’s desk, on the stairs, against the door, on the carpet-and every inch of Himchan’s house is sticky and sweaty by the time they’re done that night, by the time they fall asleep, naked and sated and perfect, limbs tangled and warmth shared, on Himchan’s bed)
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: pg-13
pairing(s): banghim, himlo
summary: three-hundred sixty-five days
a/n: i wanted to try this bc of ZIA's For a Year that wouldn't leave my head and i wanted to try something with like minimal narration that had lots of time between each little drabble piece and left a lot of figuring out to the audience and yeah ;A; i yeah
{PART ONE} { PART TWO}
2013
january 1st
They meet as friends of friends of friends (they’re strangers) at a New Year’s Eve party of one of those friends of friends of friends. They meet at the end of the night, just as the countdown is starting, and both of them are appropriately inebriated when their mouths collide and they fall into a taxi together. It starts off as a New Year’s kiss when the midnight arrived and the entire house erupted into celebration, a cacophony of congratulations and streamers and glasses clinking. They escape being drenched in champagne (because Himchan likes this suit and Yongguk doesn’t want his hair smelling like alcohol for a week), falling out the door, into the cab, entwined in each other’s arms.
Himchan detaches his mouth from Yongguk’s long enough to give the driver the address to Himchan’s apartment.
They’re drunk enough that they’re somehow aware on a higher level that they won’t remember this in the morning. Yongguk won’t remember how Himchan burst into laughter when Yongguk’s tongue ran up the undersides of Himchan’s thighs. Himchan won’t remember how Yongguk, trying to blindly reach for a condom, nearly bashed his own head on the lamp on Himchan’s nightstand. Neither of them will remember how they both nearly suffocated kissing each other through their orgasms because they were so wasted, they forgot they could breathe through their noses.
Himchan falls asleep seconds after he comes, right on top of Yongguk, and Yongguk doesn’t bother rolling him off. Yongguk falls asleep with an arm wrapped tight around Himchan’s waist.
Both of them know how one night stands work, both of them have had one night stands before, both of them have their own morning after routines. Himchan wakes up first-late enough that it’s nearly lunchtime-head pounding, and body screaming for coffee. He forgoes underwear and a shirt, throws on sweatpants, and picks up Yongguk’s scattered clothes. Himchan folds them and hangs them over the bedpost, and heads to the kitchen to put on a pot of the darkest brew just as Yongguk starts to rouse.
Yongguk doesn’t bother with clothes-hopes that he can steal a shower before he leaves-and walks out of the bedroom only to collapse onto Himchan’s sofa, facing away from the kitchen and out the grand windows of the apartment. He smells eggs, steaming rice, and glorious-glorious-black coffee from behind him. He only gets a minute to silently clutch at his throbbing head before the cushions of the sofa are perturbed and he glances over at a face he’s looked at for an entire night but can’t clearly recall.
Himchan sets down two piping hot mugs before he sits down easily next to Yongguk. “Happy New Year,” he grins, and Yongguk doesn’t remember how attractive he found Himchan last night, judgment all but ruined from the alcohol, but in the daylight, Yongguk mentally pats himself on the back.
“Mine?” Yongguk asks, and points to the mug in front of him.
“Yours,” Himchan says, amused and takes a sip of his own.
Yongguk finishes half the contents before he sets it down and says proudly, “I remember your name.”
“Yeah?” Himchan slides a little closer, turning his body so that they’re face to face. “Remember yours too.”
Yongguk glances at him with his own grin. “You first.”
“Bang,” Himchan says without hesitation, “Yong-guk?” He looks at Yongguk.
“Good guess,” Yongguk says and Himchan shoves at him. Yongguk pretends to think for a moment, folding his arms and cocking his head to the side. “Himchan,” he says first, slowly, and Himchan snorts and rolls his eyes. “Kim,” Yongguk raises his eyebrows. “Kim Himchan.”
“Fucking drink your coffee,” Himchan laughs.
Yongguk stretches his arms over his head, leaning and sinking into the sofa’s back cushions. He tilts his head back, resting it against the edge, eyes scanning the ceiling lazily. His eyes slip to the side to watch Himchan’s silhouette illuminated by late morning sunlight. “You’re Daehyunie’s hyung from work, right?” Yongguk asks eventually, as Himchan rounds off his coffee.
Himchan glances over, mild surprise in his eyes. “Yeah.” He blinks. “Sorry-I forgot-you’re his-?”
“I was a few grades above him in high school,” Yongguk says. “We lived pretty close so we played together when we were kids.”
“Ah.”
Yongguk glances around the apartment once and then comes back to look at Himchan. “D’you mind if I shower before I go?”
“Go ahead,” Himchan shrugs, picking up both mugs and standing at the same time Yongguk does. Yongguk heads for the door he’s determined as the bathroom, and out of the corner of his eye, he watches Himchan head towards the kitchen to put the mugs in the sink. Something lights up at the back of Yongguk’s mind as Himchan reaches the threshold of the living room.
“Himchan-shii,” Yongguk calls, halfway between the living room and the bathroom door.
Himchan pauses midway to the sink, mugs still in either hand. He turns with raised eyebrows.
Yongguk swallows, licks his lips. “Are you doing anything Friday next week?”
A moment of surprise passes through Himchan’s eyes for the time it takes Yongguk’s heart to stutter, and then Himchan is smiling. “Think I’m free.”
Yongguk grins back.
(when he comes out of the shower, Himchan’s number is scrawled messily on a sticky note stuck to Yongguk’s folded shirt)
2013
february 25th
Himchan kneels up on the bed, front leaning into Yongguk’s back, arms wrapping around the other man’s shoulders from behind. Yongguk’s head tilts down against Himchan’s shoulder, their cheeks pressed warmly together and the city lights shining in through Yongguk’s bedroom window cast shadows against their faces. The skin of Yongguk’s back is still damp with sweat, sticking to Himchan’s chest, and Himchan is sure that Yongguk can feel Himchan’s uneven breathing-still panting from orgasms just moments ago.
“So,” Himchan says slowly, “he cheated on you.”
“His family made him,” Yongguk says quietly, and Himchan thinks there might be something defensive in the other man’s tone.
“Whether he did it for himself or for his parents’ money, he still did it,” but Himchan tightens his arms around Yongguk and hopes that’s enough to take the edge away from his words. He presses lips into Yongguk’s hair and Yongguk turns his face and buries it against Himchan’s arms. Himchan whistles softly. “The worst ex I had was in high school,” he says thoughtfully.
Yongguk glances at him, eyes still heavy but Himchan catches the tiny light of curiosity that’s started to creep in. “What’d he do?”
“She,” Himchan corrects with a tiny grin. “She used me.”
Yongguk’s brow furrows. “To make someone jealous?”
“Homework.”
Himchan ends up having to let go of Yongguk because the other man falls forward off the bed in laughter, doubled over and nearly shouting with it. Himchan leans back on his palms and enjoys the sight of Yongguk smiling again, hopefully no longer reminiscing on past pains and wounds at least for the moment. Yongguk is curled on the floor shaking with mirth for a good two minutes before he comes back up onto the bed, flopping on his back and looking up at Himchan with a grin that’s suddenly as grateful as it is amused.
“Seriously?” Yongguk asks.
Himchan puts on a solemn face. “Seriously.”
“Were your grades even that good?”
“I was a fucking genius,” Himchan says, waving a hand airily.
Yongguk shakes his head with a grin, reaching up and cupping a hand against the back of Himchan’s neck, bringing him down until Himchan is leaning over Yongguk, lips moments apart. “Thanks,” Yongguk whispers, right before he kisses Himchan.
2013
march 18th
Somehow, spring still refuses to arrive and it snows during the month flowers should be blossoming. It’s light but it’s unexpected and icy enough that at least most elementary schools call the day off. Himchan texts Yongguk that he doesn’t have to teach today so Yongguk, who’s had the entire week off because his studio is having repairs done, risks the mild ice and snow to take Himchan out to lunch. They’ve had each other the passcodes to each other’s apartments for a month now, and Yongguk lets himself in when he arrives.
Himchan isn’t anywhere in the living room or the kitchen when Yongguk comes in. The television is on the weather channel, most likely because Himchan had been checking earlier whether his school was open or not. Yongguk catches Himchan’s phone on the ottoman, opened to a text by Daehyun, ironically enough celebrating about how they don’t have to teach today because the school is closed for snow. Yongguk grins at that, and ambles on deeper into the apartment.
The shower isn’t on, the bathroom door is open and it’s dark inside, so Yongguk passes by and heads straight on for the bedroom. Himchan’s bare back faces the door, head bent as he zips up his jeans. “Fucking spying pervert,” Himchan says, as Yongguk throws his arms around Himchan’s waist and spins him around. Hair falls damp from a recent shower into Himchan’s eyes, pale skin flushed lightly from the warmth of the shower steam, lips curled into a tiny smile, and Yongguk never wants to let go of him.
“How many times did Daehyunie text you that school was closed?” Yongguk asks with a grin.
“Seventeen,” Himchan says. “I didn’t even have to check the weather, really-I just had the TV on for the roads.” He twines his arms around Yongguk’s neck. “To be fair, his kids’ve been nasty lately.”
“Your kids are good?”
Himchan flashes a smile that makes Yongguk’s breath catch, head spin, heart pound, and chest ache all at once. “My kids have me.”
Yongguk squeezes Himchan’s hips. “Lucky them.”
2013
april 7th
Lazy Sunday mornings are spent at Yongguk’s more than Himchan’s because Himchan likes getting away from the mountains and mountains of papers that surround his apartment during the midst of the school year. Yongguk’s work stays at his office, and the most that he brings home is contained in his laptop. Himchan likes Yongguk’s apartment because of how everything seems to live and breathe music the way Yongguk does. Even though Yongguk produces in his studio downtown, he writes at home and Himchan sees notebooks shelved and stacked, filled with lyrics and scribbled notes.
Sometimes Himchan brings the work he needs to grade to Yongguk’s because it doesn’t seem like work anymore when he’s marking papers with Yongguk’s head resting in his lap. Most times Yongguk sleeps, a late afternoon nap because he needs to stock up on sleep for late hours during the week at the recording studio. Other times, he’ll compose, notebook or iPad propped up on his stomach while Himchan has to prop his own papers up on a textbook.
Eventually, Himchan will fall asleep too, sometimes tangled with Yongguk on the sofa, other times on the plush carpet beneath, with his hand still somehow resting on Yongguk’s rising and falling chest.
2013
may 22nd
It’s spring, officially, and Himchan has allergies, but it rained the day before, his medication is at the peak of its performance, so he and Yongguk can take a nighttime walk around the block for a run for drinks at the convenience store near Himchan’s house without the teacher’s eyes turning redder than an apple and bleeding phlegm through his nose. They walk with intertwined hands down the streets beneath the light shining from the lampposts, beers held in their free hands, shoulders brushing, laughs mingling, grins meeting.
They reach a street corner by the time Yongguk finishes telling Himchan about how he’s about to start concept meetings for a group’s comeback, and then it’s Himchan’s turn to relay exciting news (because more often than not, it’s Yongguk who’s finished this group’s album or featured this soloist in a new track or is having renovations done to this part of his studio or getting invited to that group’s first concert, and Himchan loves his own job but his version of noteworthy more often than not is being able to watch rival parents get into a slap fight at PTO meetings).
“An intern?” Yongguk echoes, and Himchan takes in a deep gulp of his beer as they wait for the crossing light to change.
“Maybe,” Himchan says, “if he passes my interview, he’ll start training next week and then his internship’ll be in the summer.”
The red hand switches to a green, walking figure, but Yongguk presses Himchan against the metal post, fingers moving the bottle’s neck back so his hands are as free as they can be to grip Himchan’s hips (and maybe this is why they always end up walking late at night when the streets are emptier-sometimes Himchan teases Yongguk, as they don snapbacks low on their heads, that it feels like they’re those idols Yongguk writes songs for, sneaking around to avoid the press). “Go easy on him,” Yongguk says, leaning in with a playfully solemn face.
Himchan’s eyebrows quirk indifferently. “Why should I?”
“Because you’re a hardass,” Yongguk shrugs (grins). “Kim-seonsaengnim.”
Himchan shoves Yongguk away from him, and the producer bursts into laughter as his back hits the hedge lining the sidewalk. “I told you not to call me that,” Himchan yells, loudly enough that the drivers in the cars at the nearby red light turn their heads. Yongguk is still grinning, entirely too pleased with himself, and Himchan can’t seem stop himself from grinning back.
“We’re not fucking or anything,” Yongguk points out because he does remember the way Himchan shriveled humorously the first time Yongguk decided to try teasing him with that.
“Do you know how awkward it is,” Himchan says, and it looks safe enough for Yongguk to come back and frame Himchan against the pole-so he does, “to have you call me something that-like-my six-year-olds call me?”
“But, ssaem,” Yongguk laughs, and Himchan kicks him in the shin this time.
The cars stop and go and stop and go countless times before Yongguk and Himchan are finally in any state to cross the street. The cars stop and go and stop and go countless times, and Yongguk kisses Himchan every time they miss another signal change. They toss their beers into the nearest trash can before they line up to give crossing the street one last try, hands intertwined again.
The red hand switches to a green, walking figure. “What’s the kid’s name?” Yongguk asks, as they step off the curb.
Himchan glances at him. “Mm-the one I’m interviewing? Choi Junhong.”
2013
june 17th
The mood Himchan arrives in early Monday morning promotes everything but the correct mindset to handle some twenty-odd young children. The fight with Yongguk had lasted throughout the entire weekend, and last night there had been a hasty reconciliation in light of how they wouldn’t be seeing much of each other this coming week (Yongguk is now in the midst of recording sessions and Himchan has to stay after school late in coming months to prepare his students, and help the other teachers with theirs, for exams).
But it hadn’t repaired much and Himchan feels like it’d actually done absolutely nothing at all. He still feels angry, still feels irritated, still feels hurt, and still feels like he needs to look into Yongguk’s face and scream before anything can be resolved thoroughly. He was entirely all too close to calling in for a sub and not coming to class at all, but exam time is approaching, and Himchan has an intern to guide.
With all that said and done, it doesn’t make it any better when Himchan comes face-to-face with Junhong putting a piping, cup of coffee down on Himchan’s desk in the teachers’ office. Just the sight of the intern irritates Himchan to an indescribable degree, and all Junhong has done was bow a greeting at the sight of Himchan coming in. Junhong has been the paper-definition of a perfect college intern, and the first thing Himchan says to him, as he sits down and takes in the mountain of papers that Himchan himself forgot to bring home over the weekend to grade, is a prompt, “Why the fuck haven’t you graded these?”
Junhong blinks, eyebrows disappearing and eyes stretching. “I,” he clears his throat, hands instantly held in front of himself in a standard pose of confused apology, “I thought you were going to-you didn’t-sir-”
“Finish them by today,” Himchan says curtly, “and have them filed into the students folders so they can look them over tomorrow. Make sure you leave constructive comments on all of their rubrics so they can rewrite their essays for this Friday, and file all of the grades into my gradebook before you enter them into the system. Passwords are in my filing cabinet, first folder, and my gradebook is in the classroom.”
He doesn’t look at Junhong as the younger man bows once, deep and long with his hands at his sides, before turning on his heel with the piles upon piles of papers balanced in his arms.
It’s not until lunchtime, when Himchan walks by the staff lounge and catches two of his female students trying to climb on top of each other to peer through the door window, that he realizes his anger has fully left him. He’s in his usual mood now whenever he’s at school, and that mood is everything bouncy and playful because he loves his students (he does) and he loves his colleagues, and whereas he might’ve yelled at the two little girls earlier, he just laughs and walks up to them even though they should both be outside with the other kids.
“Yerin-ah, Chaeyoung-ah,” he calls brightly, and both girls nearly crumple to the floor in surprise, faces flaming as they turn to him with their hands folded over their stomachs. “Not playing outside today?”
They exchange glances before Yerin says nervously, determinedly, “Why’s Choi-ssaem not outside like he always is?”
Himchan raises his eyebrows.
“Choi-ssaem said he’s gonna show us how to dance,” Chaeyoung adds, and she waves her little hands in front of her face.
And Himchan’s throat suddenly feels a little tight. He puts his hands on each of the girls’ backs and steers them towards the hall that leads to the playground. “Go outside and play,” he says at their frowns, “I’ll get Choi-ssaem out there as fast as I can.”
They still look doubtful as they link hands and start walking away from him, ponytail and pigtail swinging side by side. Himchan waits until they’ve turned the corner before he opens the door to the staff lounge and, there sitting at the center table, is Junhong surrounded by the loads upon loads of paperwork that Himchan should have graded himself over the weekend (instead of wasting time fighting with Yongguk over something Himchan can’t even remember what they started it over).
“Stop,” Himchan says, and Junhong looks up, blinking in surprise with his red pen in mid stroke. “Go outside, Junhong-ah.”
Junhong blinks again. “What?” He shakes his head. “I mean-sorry?”
Himchan takes the pen out of the intern’s hand and snorts. “Go teach Yerinie and Chaeyoungie how to dance.”
The younger man stares.
“Are you going to make me feel guilty for another fifteen minutes or are you going to dance for my girls?” Himchan finally says, and he may or may not be grinning. Junhong seems to tentatively return the grin with his own hesitant smile-slow-spreading but warm, as he stands up.
“I got through most of them, sir,” Junhong says, as he gathers his phone from the table and slips it into his pocket. He gestures generally out at the neatly stacked, closed folders on the left side.
“Thanks, Junhong-ah.” Himchan sits down, and swallows a sigh at the stacks of essays still left despite how fast Junhong already worked within the last few hours. He’s about to start sorting the first stack in front of him to make it easier when he’s suddenly met by another chair being pulled across from him-by Junhong’s hands grabbing back the essay and pen he had been holding when Himchan came in.
It’s Himchan’s turn to stare.
Junhong gives another hesitant grin. “I think Yerin and Chaeyoung can wait ‘til tomorrow, sir,” he says.
Himchan looks down and smiles at the essay he’s pulled in front of himself. “Junhong-ah?”
The intern glances up.
“Don’t call me sir,” Himchan says.
“Himchan-hyung,” Junhong tries with raised eyebrows and dancing eyes.
Himchan smiles again.
2013
july 6th
Yongguk doesn’t know why he’s so irritated. He doesn’t understand why he’s this pissed off. It’s that horrible sort of growing anger where it rises up inside of your body like licking flames and you can’t stamp it out. He’s just angry-he’s absolutely furious-and there’s impatience in every breath he takes. It takes everything that he has not to throw whatever is within reach at Himchan’s face. He’s gripping the edge of the countertop behind him to stop himself from digging his nails into his palms until the skin breaks.
This is far from the first time Himchan has been too busy to come home, and this is far from the first time Himchan has been too busy to go with Yongguk to an awards event. Himchan has only been to three out of the dozens Yongguk has been invited to attend in the months they’ve been dating and it isn’t as if this one is any more important than previous ones, but for some reason, the flippant way Himchan excuses himself from it because he’s too tired-because a tutoring session might run late-because he just doesn’t feel like it this time around-and the final reason, because it’s a film festival and not a music awards show so Yongguk isn’t going to be up for anything so why does Yongguk even have to attend, why does Himchan even have to attend-
Yongguk snaps and his temper shatters into pieces and Himchan retaliates in every sense of the word.
Because we haven’t seen each other in weeks, and Yongguk spits it out through gritted teeth.
Because you haven’t been home in weeks, and the way Himchan says it, the way his eyes pierce Yongguk with accusations leaves Yongguk breathless from the unfairness.
Because I’m busy-just like you-just like you’re too busy to go with me to this one thing, and Yongguk hopes that Himchan feels every drop of venom in Yongguk’s tone because right now Yongguk is furious and he hates Himchan and he hates Himchan and he hates Himchan and he never thought he could hate Himchan.
Because I’m tired-you’re tired-we’re both tired-so why don’t you just skip this and fucking get some sleep so you don’t take how tired you are out on me, Bang Yongguk, and Himchan is shouting now, standing across the room from Yongguk, too much space in between them and everything about Himchan’s stance screams closed closed closed.
I’m not taking it out on you, Kim Himchan, and Yongguk wants to scream back but suddenly he is tired and suddenly everything hurts and suddenly he can’t look at Himchan’s eyes but he does anyway because this isn’t supposed to be like this.
Himchan swallows tightly, as Yongguk takes a deep breath and steps slowly forward-covering the distance between them until the space is gone and Yongguk can cup Himchan’s face. Himchan’s fingers thread gently-apologetically-through Yongguk’s hair. Their eyes meet and Yongguk almost tears his gaze away because somehow looking at Himchan so closely hurts (everything hurts a lot more recently, and Yongguk doesn’t know why and it can’t be because they’re falling apart because they’re not).
Let’s talk more tomorrow, and Himchan leans in to press his lips over Yongguk’s.
Okay
2013
august 31st
Himchan invites Junhong over for dinner with himself and Yongguk. He and Yongguk cook it together at Himchan’s apartment beforehand, and it’s an all day sort of thing. They take it slow after lunch, watching television and listening to music while they do it-they talk while they cook, flirt, kiss, and manage to have sex twice while the roast is in the oven finishing up. There’s surprisingly no fighting-none at all-and Himchan is both relieved and bitter that there’s now a time when a day that he and Yongguk don’t fight is a special occasion that needs to be relieved for at all.
(the past month they’ve fought and fought and fought and they’ve gone days without speaking to each other at times and Himchan doesn’t know what to do and neither of them talk about it when they’re not fighting because whenever the mood is light, it’s too fragile to risk upsetting)
Inviting Junhong is something that Daehyun and Himchan had planned to do together for the intern, since Junhong’s internship would be ending next month and he’d resume his studies on a full schedule, but Daehyun is called out for a conference last minute and Junhong always has too much homework to go drinking with the other teachers. So for this, Himchan is alone, and Yongguk’s been wanting to meet Junhong for weeks now because of how much Himchan has been mentioning him at home-because Junhong is just that efficient of an intern.
As it turns out, when Junhong arrives and once they’re all seated with food in front of them and alcohol to move the conversation along, Junhong has been wanting to meet Yongguk ever since Himchan mentioned to the intern that Yongguk is a producer-that Yongguk is a rapper. They talk rap for an hour until Himchan interjects that if they don’t start on something classical or traditional soon, he’s going to conk out drunk on the couch from boredom and Yongguk and Junhong both laugh.
Dinner ends with Yongguk promising to take Junhong to his studio one day to fool around, and Junhong promising Yongguk that once every while he’ll force Himchan out of the office to get some fresh air during the lunch break instead of cramming in more practice exams for the students. Himchan rolls his eyes at that, and pushes Junhong playfully out the door so he can walk him down outside the apartment complex.
“The odds,” Himchan says as the elevator descends, only the two of them inside of it at this late hour, “of your intern being okay with you liking guys because he likes guys.”
Junhong grins. “The odds,” the younger man says, “of your supervisor being a short guy with a horrible temper who makes awesome fried rice.”
“Yah,” Himchan cocks his head, glowering, reaching up to thwack Junhong’s skull, “you just need to stop growing, Choi Junhong.”
Junhong catches Himchan’s wrist before the teacher’s palm makes contact with the younger man’s head. He laughs. “That’s abuse, Kim-ssaem.”
“Then stop being a smartass to your elders, Choi-hakusen,” Himchan shoots back playfully, a laugh laced through his own voice. He draws back his hand and settles for tousling Junhong’s hair.
Junhong grins as the elevator doors open. “So you admit you’re old?”
Himchan barely manages to strangle the younger man before Junhong dances out of grasp and the elevator doors close again to the sight of Junhong waving a goodnight at Himchan.
Himchan isn’t sure why, but his spirits lift as the elevator ascends back to his floor. And by the time Yongguk opens the door to let him back in, Himchan is throwing himself at the other man and covering Yongguk’s lips in a searing kiss. Yongguk draws away with laughter and Himchan just grins at him as he’s pulled into the apartment with the door slamming shut behind them. “What?” Himchan challenges at Yongguk’s amused and surprised gaze.
“You’re in a good mood,” Yongguk comments lightly, and his hands have already slipped beneath Himchan’s sweater and shirt, fingers warm against the skin of Himchan’s hipbones.
Himchan just hums in response and pushes Yongguk backward towards the bedroom. Yongguk lets out another short burst of laughter before it’s muffled by Himchan’s mouth and then Himchan’s hands find the button and zipper to the other man’s jeans. They press each other into walls, over tables, down on chairs, falling to the floor again and again before they finally reach the bed, clothes dropping off of them like a trail of breadcrumbs into the bedroom.
He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly breathlessly happy but he attributes it to how today seemed to be a sign that the rough month he and Yongguk went through was just that-a rough month, something all relationships had to muddle through before continuing into a better forever. He does know that tonight isn’t the time to mull introspectively over futures and the mechanics of relationships because all that fills Himchan’s mind is heat and wet and writhing and moaning and pleasure with a bit of pain and then more pleasure and warmth and laughter when he’s so close to orgasm that he feels insane and then he does orgasm again and again and again and again and he loses track of how many times he and Yongguk go at each other that night.
(on the bed, against the wall, on the floor, on the sofa, in a chair, in the kitchen, in the shower, over the sink, on the sink, over a table, sprawled out on Himchan’s desk, on the stairs, against the door, on the carpet-and every inch of Himchan’s house is sticky and sweaty by the time they’re done that night, by the time they fall asleep, naked and sated and perfect, limbs tangled and warmth shared, on Himchan’s bed)