"Why the fuck did you do that?" Juyeon's deep voice breaks the silence after several minutes. Glaring eyes and lips pulled into a thin line, he slouches half a step behind Younghoon—hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans; his body posture tells a different story than his face. That he doesn't care—but oh, he does.

"What do you mean? Hyunjae's friends are my friends." Younghoon slows down, forcing Juyeon to walk next to him. A smug grin tickles at the corner of his lips—slowly spreading across his face. He is cheerful, too cheerful, it only adds fuel to the fire in Juyeon's eyes. And it is all nothing less than deliberate on Younghoon's behalf.

"And Hyunjae is your friend as well?"

"Of course."

"Since when?"

Dangerous flames burn in the dark eyes looking back at him, and Younghoon is too close now to let them burn out, without touching them first. Another grin is held back this time, but observant eyes are watching Juyeon closely, as the two friends continue down the street. Days have passed by, and Juyeon hasn't mentioned Hyunjae. Not even once. A rarity, as his name usually drops from Juyeon's lips, as if it was the air itself. The sole reason for his existence.

"Excuse me, I do not like that tone. What is the problem with me simply wanting to help Sooyeon out?" Younghoon smirks, perhaps a bit too cheeky at this moment.

Of course, he doesn't care about Hyunjae or his friend at all. But Kim Younghoon was born with the ability and need for creating chaos, and Hyunjae is the golden key to the mayhem Juyeon is holding in. And Younghoon has to see it. He is so close, he knows it.

"Seoyeon."

"Sure, whatever."

Obviously, he doesn't care at all.

Younghoon is simply bored again, too bored for his own good. For anyone's good, to be quite frank. Business meetings at his father's company, and draining, forced family dinners with endless servings of nagging words about marriage.

The final line in the script written for his life was finished before Younghoon was even born. A golden sprout growing in the garden of drowning expectations that shadow over him, as he is forced to act out every pre-set scene.

What a fucking snoozefest.

But Younghoon has found a way out, even if it's only a transient bliss. A person who can light a spark inside of him, one he has come to crave more than he ever thought he would. Night after night lately, divine legs have wrapped around his waist, and the Heavens have come crashing down over him. Younghoon is obsessed, crazed with a longing he no longer can control.

A line was crossed, the first time Chanhee spent the night. When soft cotton candy hair tickled against Younghoon's chest, he fell asleep with his arms around Chanhee's perfect and willowy body.

There are feelings stirring inside of him, the kind Younghoon has to suppress, kill off before they become real. But it is like fighting for his life. He wants Chanhee, but doesn't want to need him. To have him. On the very edge of insanity, Younghoon grasps for straws, something to distract him. Anything. Even something as simple as watching Juyeon crack. Laid back, unimpressed, with too much control of his emotions-Juyeon. His best friend, Juyeon. His sacrificial lamb.

Karma shows up later that same night, forcing Younghoon to face his own demons instead of Juyeon's.

Chanhee

Home?
read 01:39am

Younghoon

Yes
read 01:41am

The spark has been lit, growing, spreading, tickling at his fingertips.

Ten minutes later, possibly even less, the addict gets his fix. All greedy hands and hungry lips, and Chanhee's sweet scent filling Younghoon's lungs—he can finally breathe again.

"You were already on your way here, when you texted me?" Younghoon smirks against Chanhee's lips, as his fingers stroke over lacy garter belts hidden under a white trench coat. "What if I hadn't been home?"

"Then I'd just text someone else." A breathy laugh, so light, almost fragile, tickles against Younghoon's neck. The spark becomes a wildfire.

"Quit playing games. I am not in the mood."

"Oh? I thought you loved playing games," Chanhee pouts, glossy lips pursed together—already wet from hungry kisses. The white trench coat slips down slender shoulders, dropping onto the bedroom floor. Younghoon swallows a gasp. In dimmed light he sees the Divinity right before his eyes. Choi Chanhee, in a fucking nurse costume.

"Shit -" Younghoon exhales sharply. "You're driving me insane."

The sky comes crashing down, and Heaven and Hell collide. Burning sin and airy moans, and words only meant for the night are exchanged in a gentle whisper. Deep thrusts and deep kisses, and the moonlight shining in ebony eyes.

Younghoon feels alive, he feels free. He kisses lips he has missed more than he is willing to admit—it has only been a day since the last time. He swallows every pretty moan licked up by his tongue, and as sweat trickles down his forehead, Younghoon has become mad. Determined to prove that no one else will make Chanhee feel this way.

Lips meet again, and Younghoon's hands wrap around Chanhee's slim waist. The bed slams against the wall, like their bodies against each other—filling the room with sounds so vile, but so serene, as are they both about to break, in the chase for absolute euphoria.

A small yawn and dark locks are pushed back, while Younghoon's fingertips draw doodles against porcelain skin. Coming down from his high, he looks into eyes deeper than the ocean. Younghoon is now certain that he needs Chanhee to feel alive. He won't even fight it anymore.

"You know you don't have to dress like that for my sake anymore, right?" he tiredly mumbles, with Chanhee's fingers lost in his messy dark hair.

"Who said I do it for your sake?" A playful smirk over the glossy lips, swollen and red from rough kisses.

"I... I didn't mean it like that, I-"

"I know. I'm just teasing you, Hoon."

Then, Chanhee kisses him. Softly, so, so very softly. And when long lashes flutter and eyes meet, nothing is as it used to be—but everything is exactly as it should be. Younghoon's heart skips a beat. The obsession has changed into something else. He is falling in love. The missing heartbeat finds its way back, Younghoon's heart now racing in his chest. Pouty lips part, but no words come out. Instead, Chanhee smiles, and his fingertip brushes against Younghoon's lower lip. It tickles, and Younghoon's cheeks heat up, while both of them are lost in each other's eyes.

Pastel pink hair tickles against Younghoon's chest, as Chanhee suddenly cuddles up against him, and Younghoon breathes the sweet scent of Orange blossom, and what he has come to know as love—and suddenly he sees it all. Date nights and holding hands, red roses brought to Chanhee's door and dancing in the moonlight. And it doesn't seem as scary as Younghoon used to fear.

"Tell me," he whispers. "Will anyone else ever hold you like this?"

"No." Entwined fingers, caught against a calming heartbeat, Chanhee leaves a soft kiss on the knuckles of Younghoon's hand. "No one else ever will..."

No one else ever will...

Sunlight washes over Younghoon's face, when he wakes up to Chanhee's words echoing in his head. But, the spot next to him on the bed is empty. He hears the rustling of a bag, groggy eyes search for focus until he sees Chanhee in the corner, pulling clothes up from the tote bag he threw on the floor when he arrived.

"Leaving already?" Younghoon rolls onto his side, groaning at his aching back.

"Yes." The answer is short and cold, Chanhee doesn't even look up. He seems so far away, as if oceans now separate them.

Confused, rubbing his eyes, Younghoon wonders if he is still asleep. Or, was he asleep when they talked during the night? Was it all just a dream?

"Why don't you stay? Let's have breakfast together."

"No."

Fully dressed now in his normal clothes, Chanhee stuffs the costume into his tote bag. Those frail looking hands move so aggressively, and whenever the oversized striped tee slides down one shoulder, Chanhee pulls it back up with an agitated sigh.

"Something wrong?" As Younghoon rolls out of bed, quickly putting his underwear back on, he catches the brief side-eye from Chanhee. Younghoon feels cold but hot, and confused, so, so confused. "Chanhee... Last night, what you said-"

"I know what I said," Chanhee cuts him off. No eye contact.

"Did you mean it?"

"I meant it, as much as you." The tote bag is swung over his shoulder, when Chanhee finally turns to face Younghoon. "So, no."

"You still think you got me all figured out?" A scoff, Younghoon can't hold it back, even if he doesn't mean it. There is a sting in his heart, but he has to hide it.

"I do."

"I doubt that." Slowly drawing closer, Younghoon's brows fall into a frown. "Stay a little. Get to know me better then."

I just want to get to know you too.

I just want you.

"Has it ever crossed your mind that I don'twant to get to know you better" Chanhee clicks his tongue, adding a low didn't think so, when silence is the only response from a stunned Younghoon.

"Chanhee..." Fumbling hands, nervous in a way that is unfamiliar, Younghoon reaches out - finding Chanhee's. "Just give me a chance. I can give you everything you want."

"No, you can't," Chanhee laughs, pulling away. "No one can."

"I'm not no one... If you let me be someone."

"Stop saying gross shit like that, Younghoon." Beautiful lips speaking harsh words— it's the stinging thorns on a dainty rose.

An unfamiliar pain spreads in Younghoon's chest, and the look in Chanhee's eyes makes it even worse. Younghoon searches for the calm he saw last night—for the glimpse of his own feelings looking back at him.

But he can't find it.

"I will, when you stop being so fucking cynical. Would it really kill you to give me a chance?" A racing heart, different from the way it pounded in his chest when Chanhee was lying close to him. Things are escalating, too quickly.

Younghoon is desperate, still searching for the smallest sign of the Chanhee he saw only hours ago. But there is nothing left, and as silence fills the room, Younghoon experiences another new feeling. One that hurts.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Chanhee then says. "I should have ended this long ago."

Ended this...

"So now it's all up to you? To end this?" Younghoon sneers—his hurt comes out as anger. " You, the one who has been coming to me every time?"

"And you've waited for me, haven't you? I told you the first time, no strings attached, but you had to make things complicated, didn't you? Are you really this bored with your life?"

The sky comes crashing down again, but this time, everything will be left in ruins.

"You're fucked up."

"Never claimed I wasn't." Chanhee shrugs his shoulders, like he doesn't care at all. He probably doesn't, he never did and Younghoon is a fool for ever falling into his trap.

"You want to end this?" One hand clenched around the door handle, yanking the door open, Younghoon glares at Chanhee, and anger vibrates in his voice. "Fine. But don't call me up in the middle of the night again, don't text me when you're feeling lonely or bored. Find someone else's time to waste. If you leave now, you're fuckingdead to me."

"Fine."

The door slams. Younghoon is alone, feeling every emotion in a way he has never felt them before. Feeling how it is to lose something, for the first time in his life. If only it hadn't been Chanhee...

Minutes turn into hours, hours into days, and days into weeks. Late night drinking turns into day-drinking, and scolding from his father, for missing out on meetings, and smelling like alcohol when he finally shows up. Younghoon is lost in an endless maze. Little to no sleep, he can't sleep—doesn't want to. At night it is even worse, the pain. It's growing and growing, tearing his heart apart, hurting in a way he never thought was possible.

Younghoon curses himself. For being stupid, for being weak, for wanting things he never should have wanted in the first place.

For falling in love.

Another day, whatever day of the week it currently is—Younghoon doesn't even know, and he doesn't care either. Stumbling down the street, looking nothing like himself. Dark shadows hover over him, covering his face and a wrinkled shirt his mother surely would scold him for.

No actual destination, Younghoon restlessly roams the streets of Seoul, getting dangerously close to the Hongdae area where he first met Chanhee. One of the areas Younghoon hates the most, but there's a small voice at the back of his mind—telling him that maybe he will see him. Chanhee. And he suddenly, surely does. Younghoon feels dizzy. Head is spinning and hands turn clammy. This was a bad idea. He should leave, turn around and walk away, like Chanhee walked away from him. Leaving him with the exact thing they had together all along. Nothing.

He should. But he can't. His body won't listen, his feet move in the direction his brain is screaming for them not to. Seeing Chanhee again, Younghoon has to try, just one last time.

Kim Younghoon, always too greedy for his own good.

"Chanhee?" he calls out, heartbeat increasing, hoping he isn't simply hallucinating. Quick hands clumsily comb through messy dark hair, pushing it back. Hopefully he doesn't look too much of a wreck.

Sure enough, under the beaming sun is the boy who stole Younghoon's heart, and ran away with it.

"Young- Younghoon?" Chanhee looks upset at the sudden meeting, and his big eyes quickly narrow. But the expression changes, when Younghoon nearly falls over his own feet. "Oh my God, Younghoon, are you drunk?"

"N-no..." It's a slur, Younghoon doesn't even try to hide it, doesn't even know how to in his current state. "Chanhee, listen, I-"

"I'm waiting for someone," Chanhee cuts him off abruptly. "You should go."

Shivers, cold as ice, stream down Younghoon's back at the emotionless stare cutting into his eyes. An opportunity turns into a mistake.

"Chanhee! You ready to go?" A voice calls out behind Younghoon, and Chanhee's eyes briefly widen up—Younghoon notices that.

It is a voice that Younghoon finds familiar, but he wishes he didn't. Not in this scenario. He turns, painfully slowly, only to meet with eyes as stunned as his own. Juyeon. Of course it is Juyeon.

"Oh, Y-Younghoon-hyung? W-what are you doing here?" Sharp feline eyes dart between Younghoon and Chanhee, and a nervous hand rubs the back of his neck, as Juyeon speaks.

"I was just in the neighborhood. You?"

"Same."

Liar. Both of them are liars.

Just like that, anger returns, burning in every inch of Younghoon's body. He should have known. Chanhee always showed such interest in Juyeon, asking Younghoon about him in the most random of moments.

"You guys going somewhere?" Younghoon asks through gritted teeth, leaving out the question of the two others knowing each other. They obviously do.

"Oh, I-" Juyeon looks stressed, avoiding Younghoon's eyes shooting daggers at him.

"Actually," Chanhee suddenly steps in, away from Younghoon—closer to Juyeon. Arms link together, the sight knocking the air out of Younghoon's lungs. "We are going on a date."