Hyunjae hates a lot of things.

Like rainy weather, and shoelaces that keep coming undone whenever he is in a hurry. How the stairs at exit 9 are always too crowded, and how he, despite sprinting down the escalators, is stuck in an endless curse of missing the last train by a second.

He hates the unbearable hot summers—how his clothes stick to his clammy skin, and the burning red spot on his nose, forgotten by the sunscreen he slapped on in a hurry. He hates the sun blinding his eyes, while his legs ache from the mountain hikes Juyeon nags him into joining. The only thing that makes it worth it, are the purple Asian Fawn Lilies adorning the mountain sides.

Dainty, fragile and beautiful, as they bow their heads to the Summer breeze. Frail petals in vivid shades. Soft but acute.

Just like Juyeon.

But much like the lilies are acquiescent to the wind, so is Juyeon to the storm that is Kim Younghoon, always so compliant to impress him.

"Bet you 50 that you can't get the girl in the purple dress' number." Younghoon flicks away a lock of dark hair. His sultry eyes under the thick brows preying on the girl at the bar—as the dare has landed on the table, waiting for Juyeon to pick it up.

Which he will, because he always does, and Younghoon knows that. They all do. Dark eyes fall even darker under side-swept bangs, and a smirk creeps over his lips. Juyeon has taken the bet.

God, how Hyunjae hates Younghoon.

And Hyunjae hates, absolutely downright hates, the tawdry looking and tasting shots his friends keep lining up every weekend. The sticky liquor with the artificial overly sweet taste, that not only stains his tongue green, but blurs his vision until everything around him becomes faceless silhouettes.

But, he drinks another, hoping to drown himself, as his tongue isn't the only thing that turns green tonight.

Juyeon loves girls. All kinds of them, and he loves flirting with them, making them giggle into their hands, with rose tinted cheeks and hopeful eyes. Tall, short, skinny, curvy. With luscious chocolate skin and full lips, or milky white with striking blonde hair. The ones, with freckles sprinkled over their nose and cheeks, with red untamed curls - and the ones with soft midnight hair, speaking the same native tongue as himself.

And Hyunjae hates each and every one of them.

"Got it," Juyeon clicks his tongue, waving his phone in front of Younghoon's smug face.

Of course. Who wouldn't say yes to Juyeon?

Tall, handsome, modelesque Lee Juyeon, with his tapering jawline and his cat-like eyes—as dark but wondrous as the starry night covering the city of Seoul. Equally as elegant, as he is clumsy—as fearless, as he is shy. So simple, yet so intricate. Or maybe, the last part only applies to Hyunjae?

Foolish, foolish Hyunjae, who himself, is also guilty of always saying yes to Juyeon. Like tonight, where time would've been spent more wisely, studying at home.

But pleading puppy eyes, and the way Juyeon's voice knows how to melt Hyunjae's heart, whenever he wants something, claimed a flawless victory. And Hyunjae is once again wondering, how he ever got into his Master's program, when his IQ seems to fall below zero, whenever Juyeon as much as breathes the same air as him.

Hyunjae slumps down into his seat, shrinking into the white shirt scratching at his neck, while his ears are ringing from the many, many wrong lyrics their youngest, and shortest, friend Eric is shouting next to him. He hates clubbing, and everything that comes with it. Thick, humid air, way too many people, and the loud noise everywhere—and not only coming from Eric.

"Hyung?"

Hyunjae cringes. He hates that word, even when it comes from Juyeon. Especially when it comes from Juyeon.

A gentle hand is laid at his wrist. Questioning, Juyeon looks at him, but his comforting touch is like fire against Hyunjae's skin.

The soft tone of Juyeon's voice burns in Hyunjae's ears, and pain unfolds in his stomach. He knows this feeling all too well. It's like a flower in bloom, and he can't stop it, no matter how much he wants to. He hates how even the smallest thing Juyeon does, can affect him in such a way.

In fact, he sometimes thinks he hates the entirety of Lee Juyeon.

Hesitant, he looks up, straight into dark eyes and long lashes, and every sharp edge of Juyeon's perfect face catching shadows under bright lights.

"Hyung, are you okay?" Juyeon asks, innocently, as if he has no idea what he is doing to Hyunjae.

There it is again, hyung, the reminder that they are friends—and just friends. Juyeon has said that so many times.

This is my friend Hyunjae.

My friend Hyunjae and I.

As if they have never seen each other naked before. As if Juyeon himself has never been drinking every desperate moan dripping from Hyunjae's quivering lips.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hyunjae lies, swallowing the words he really wants to say.

But he feels sick, like he could throw up right onto the table. Let all the jealousy and vile words that clog up his throat, splatter out right in front of everyone.

Maybe he should. It would be quite the fun watching Younghoon's stunned face, when he learns that his best friend might love flirting with girls, but loves it even more, when his tongue gets to draw sinful words onto Hyunjae's skin.

Hyunjae bites his tongue, silences himself with another nasty shot. He winces as it goes down his throat, eyeing Juyeon, wishing it had been him instead.

Slick, warm and thick.

Down his throat.

His weary eyes trace around Juyeon's hand, still resting against his wrist. Around silver rings decorating long, slim fingers. The strong but soft, goddamn amazing fingers, which both of them know fit too perfectly, curled in a way different manner, around Hyunjae's wrists.

And then they slip away. Silver rings sparkling into flashing lights, dipping under the table and fleeting along Hyunjae's thigh. But it is more than enough. Enough for Hyunjae to dive into vivid daydreams of teeth grazing his neck, of long limbs tangled around his own, and soft moans echoing over rosy lips.

Hyunjae hates a lot of things. But most of all, he hates himself for always letting this beautiful man into his bed, at the end of the night.

Because, as much as Hyunjae hates Juyeon, he loves him just as much. Hell, he loves him even more. So much it fucking hurts.

His dark hair, which feels like luxurious silk when laced between Hyunjae's fingers. The way every kiss feels like their first and last. Curiosity diving into cascading lust. And how Juyeon's feline eyes make sure to capture every moment, when Hyunjae is a complete mess under him.

Hyunjae hates that he loves all of it. Hates that he knows how it feels to be pushed against the cold wall, with those big hands roaming his body, holding him so close that their heartbeats become one, and Juyeon's soft lips whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

And those bedroom eyes, those goddamn, fucking irresistible bedroom eyes Juyeon sends him, drunk and fearless, in the middle of the nightclub, while their skin is washed over with flickering neon lights.

Coloring them in red and blue; coloring Hyunjae like the fool he is.

"Hyung, are you angry with me?"

Even now, as the door to Hyunjae's apartment closes behind them, locks them inside their own little world made of gentle whispers and fairy lights.

Even now, that certain word makes Hyunjae's heart drop.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that," he mumbles. But he is defenseless, drunk on sour lemon shots, and everything that is Juyeon as a whole.

"I'm sorry."

But Juyeon isn't really sorry. He is simply oblivious, or so Hyunjae likes to believe. His best friend Juyeon. His handsome, tall and painfully, desperately straight friend, Juyeon, who just happens to like mixing a Dirty Martini with the taste of Hyunjae's lips, when no one is watching.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, softly, fingers leaving fleeting but burning strokes against Hyunjae's neck, as his eyes narrow—as they become even more cat-like, and his voice turns into a purr to match. "Baby."

And then, everything collides. Love and hate, jealousy and desperation. White shirts ripped off, and replaced with greedy hands on warm skin. Wet lips crash together, and they stumble through the apartment, eyes blind to anything but each other.

In the middle of the night, swimming in the ocean of stars Juyeon's eyes pour down over him, Hyunjae revels in the moment he wishes could be forever.

Against white sheets and sun-kissed skin, Juyeon lets go of all of the things he pretends to be. Of all the things Hyunjae hates the most. Or, as close to all of it, as they have been so far. Because even between sinful moans and naked skin—between quivering lips and sweet release, they have never crossed the line of actual intercourse.

But Juyeon likes to touch, and he likes to be touched. Curious fingers stroke down Hyunjae's skin, squeeze at his hips as the silky soft tongue slips into his mouth. And Hyunjae does the same, feels every part of Juyeon under his fingertips. From the sharp-cut jawline, and down every curve and dent of his ribcage and tensed up muscles.

"Ah-Hyunjae..." Juyeon gasps into Hyunjae's mouth, his voice laced thick with lust and longing, as their bodies are as close they can be, before becoming as one.

His weight is pressing Hyunjae against the mattress, like his lips sucking red marks on Hyunjae's neck. Marking him, as if he actually wants the world to see, to let everybody know.

And Hyunjae lets him. His dirty blonde hair spread over the white pillowcase, neck fully exposed and his hands clawing at the sheet, while he breathes Juyeon in.

Juyeon is the air that fills Hyunjae's lungs, the beat of his aching heart, the entire reason for his very existence. He is everything, and yet nothing. So close, but still so far away. Hyunjae's forever and never.

Maybe he isn't so oblivious after all, Juyeon. Maybe he is simply pure evil. Hyunjae can't decide, but he doesn't want to either. Not right now, at least. Having Juyeon between his legs is all he can think of at this moment. But oh, how he wishes to feel even more. To have those long fingers do more, than jerking both of them off at the same time.

As his mind gets hazy, spilling gibberish from his lips, caught and pushed back into his mouth by Juyeon's tongue, forcing him to taste how delirious and desperate he sounds—Hyunjae wants to feel it all.

All of Juyeon.

More than slender fingers ghosting down his inner thigh, soft moans caught in the dip of prominent collarbones. Lovers in the night, wiped away as the sun rises from the horizon.

But Hyunjae also knows better than to be greedy. Although it is hard, when Juyeon tastes like pure addiction, and Hyunjae feels insatiable—absolutely and forever starving for his attention. He wants it all, but not like this. Not when they are drunk. Not when he knows how getting it all, would mean losing it all as well.

Skin to skin, naked and vulnerable.

Eyes roll back, dazzled by euphoria, and toes curl up, as they both drown in the bottomless ocean of forbidden pleasure. The pace of Juyeon's hand increases, and he finishes first. His warm cum dribbles down his hand, but he keeps going. Long fingers coated, wet and sticky, in a tight grip—sliding up and down Hyunjae's length.

The moment is raw, and it is real, but it is also delicate, like Juyeon's fluttering lashes against Hyunjae's neck. Dark eyes of desire swallow Hyunjae whole, when he finishes as well, with a cry breaking in his throat.

Everything is colliding in absolute perfection.

Until—

Until Juyeon rolls out of bed, and Hyunjae is left alone, choking on all the words he never dares to say.

Naked and vulnerable.

And he hates that certain look that glazes over Juyeon's dark eyes, when he returns with a white towel. The shame that consumes all the desire he has spilled into Hyunjae's mouth, only moments before. The distance that settles down between them, even when Juyeon's chest replaces the pillow under Hyunjae's head.

Please.

Please, just tell me that I am enough.

Juyeon is right there, but at the same time he isn't. His fingers lace between Hyunjae's, and they count the stars together, like Hyunjae counts the heartbeats drumming against his ear. Still, it isn't enough. He isn't enough.

There, hidden in the silence, is everything Hyunjae wants to say, and the thing he fears the most. The one thing that keeps them apart, even when they're so, so close. The one thing that keeps breaking Hyunjae's heart, no matter how many times he tries to stitch it back together, with the bleeding hope that maybe someday, then forever.

It is the sole reason why Juyeon keeps washing over Hyunjae like an all-consuming wave, only to pull away right after, leaving him drenched in his own tears. The reason why Juyeon has to flirt with every girl he comes across, why he will never hold Hyunjae's hand when their friends are watching, and why he feels obligated to take all of Younghoon's stupid bets.

Being with me makes you feel like less of a man, doesn't it?

It hurts. It just really fucking hurts. Eyes closed and heart bruised, Hyunjae swallows his pride, he drinks his tears and inhales the pain.

Only for Juyeon.

Only, and painfully always, for Juyeon.