Soobin's still asleep on the couch when Yeonjun collects the empty bottles. He sleeps while Yeonjun scrapes yesterday's food off the dishes, and he sleeps as Yeonjun prepares Juwon's coffee and lunch. He snores a little when Yeonjun kisses Juwon goodbye.

Yeonjun completes these tasks through a thick fog. Somewhere inside him, there's panic, but when he reaches out to touch it, it dances away from him. He can't imagine how he's done what he's done. He can only remember it, with the same clarity and distance that he might remember interesting information from a class he studied hard for years ago.

Soobin is soft and still. Yeonjun imagines crawling under the blanket with him, nosing against his neck, waking him with kisses. He allows himself to imagine that. With a bottle of tylonel and a glass of water, Yeonjun settles down by Soobin's feet. He beckons Narae over, but she only blinks at him from the curve of Soobin's waist. Yeonjun waits, alone.

After an hour or so, Soobin wakes with a groan. He smiles at Yeonjun for a moment, angelic as the morning sun hits his face, until his eyes widen.

"Yeah," Yeonjun says. "I know."

Soobin springs up, pallid, bedraggled. Before he can speak, Yeonjun tells him, "Drink some water."

Soobin coughs on the water, then takes another sip. The water wobbles in his glass as his hand shakes. "Hyung," he says, eyes cowering behind his hair.. "Last night..."

"We can't tell anyone. Not even Beomgyu, okay?" Yeonjun hadn't thought about what he was going to say to Soobin — whenever he tried to think of a plan that morning, his mind sputtered and stalled. But now, it's speeding ahead of him, and Soobin must know about this rule, if nothing else.

"Okay. I won't tell. Are you... Are you going to tell Juwon?"

"I didn't even think of that. I can't. I don't have to, right? It was just a kiss."

Soobin stares at his water. "Right. Just a kiss."

In the moment, it felt enormous. Wonderful, life-ruining. Like crawling out of himself and disappearing into who he might have been. It felt like everything. Now, in the light of day, it was nothing more than a kiss.

Yeonjun's first time doing something wrong, and it was only this.

"I guess we should stop seeing each other," Soobin says. "There's something between us, and you're married, so..."

Yeonjun's body fills with ice. "What? No. I don't want that."

"But we need to."

"No, we don't." Yeonjun says, grasping at the blanket between them. "We're okay. We're fine."

"Hyung, we did something bad. You're married. I met your husband. This is wrong."

"But it's—" Yeonjun shakes his head. Of course, it's wrong, but is it really wrong enough for them to stop? "Soobin, please."

Soobin gaze flies around the room, landing anywhere but Yeonjun. "I know you're unhappy. But this isn't okay. I'm not going to tell anyone, but this can't happen again."

"I thought — I thought you liked me."

"I do. That's why we should stop seeing each other," he says, standing up. He's still wearing Yeonjun's clothes, his little ankles are still peaking out, and Yeonjun wants to throw up. "We made a mistake."

Yeonjun shakes his head. It doesn't feel like a mistake. It feels like it had to happen, and it's not done happening. But Soobin — Sooobin's leaving.

Yeonjun reaches out for Soobin's hand, but he lands on his shirt sleeve and tugs on it. "No, Soobin, please. I can't go back to how things were before I met you. Can't you see I need this? Don't I deserve this?"

Soobin's face softens, but Yeonjun can tell his resolve doesn't. He looks at Yeonjun like a child being given bad news. "I don't like lying like this. I don't want to be someone's side piece."

"It wouldn't be like that."

Soobin finds his own clothes and changes in the bathroom as Yeonjun talks at the door — incomprehensible half sentences, he knows, but he can't think of anything else. When Soobin exits the bathroom, in his own clothes, clear-eyed, Yeonjun gapes at him.

"I'm sorry, hyung." Fluorescent light floods the room as Soobin opens the front door, and by the time Yeonjun's done blinking against it, he's alone.

A few hours ago, there were two alphas here that wanted him. Now, there's a trash bag of empty soju bottles and the indents from Soobin's body on the couch. Narae meows.

***

Yeonjun spends every spare moment checking his cell service and refreshing his Kakaotalk to see if Soobin's texted. He hasn't. He turns his phone off of vibrate in case Soobin calls. He doesn't. He goes to Beomgyu's cafe everyday in case Soobin is there. He's not.

He hadn't realized until now how similar Soobin is to him. He had thought of Soobin, Beomgyu, their entire friend group as free spirited, feral. But Soobin, despite his opposing worldview, is just as much of a rule-follower as Yeonjun is. He's not wild and brave like Beomgyu. He's good, even if his idea of goodness is quite different from Yeonjun's. But one thing they can both agree on: infidelity is wrong.

Yeonjun has always known that. But his prescription for life seems to have little correlation to reality. Of course, lying is wrong, and Juwon has done nothing to deserve it. But what about what Yeonjun deserves? Doesn't he deserve to do something bad for once? He just wishes he had been when he was younger, when it didn't really matter.

Still, Yeonjun can't stop now. They aren't finished yet, and whatever lies between them twitches and groans, bloody and begging for attention. Yeonjun wants to give it that, but he can't do it alone.

He parses through his memory of the morning, trying to find his mistake. Should he have been more composed, should he have presented a clearer plan? Did he come across as flippant about the entire thing, too eager to bury it and carry on? Did Soobin think him amoral? Or was it more simple? Should he have freshened up before Soobin woke, looked so pretty that Soobin couldn't resist him?

Beomgyu brings Yeonjun... something.

"It's supposed to be a cherry tart," Beomgyu says. "But chernobyl happened in the kitchen, and now it's ugly. It still tastes good."

As Yeonjun bites into it, watery filling drips from his lips. He turns towards a mirror on the wall to see a red rivulet trickling down his chin, dropping onto his white sweater. His hands are red, too, glistening and sticky. He sucks the sugar from his fingers. Beomgyu was right: It's delicious.

Beomgyu watches him, frowning, but Yeonjun ignores him. He's tired of waiting for everyone else. He pulls out his phone and texts Soobin, can we talk?

Soobin doesn't respond now, or in ten minutes, or in twenty. So Yeonjun texts again.

I understand why you feel weird about what happened, but do we really have to go no contact? I miss you.

By the time Soobin replies, Yeonjun's hugged Beomgyu goodbye, eaten dinner with Juwon, and gone to bed. When the notification lights up his phone, he leaves the bedroom to open it with shaking hands.

Soobin: I just don't know what the right thing to do is.

Yeonjun: I don't either. But I don't want to stop seeing you.

Soobin: I want to see too. But I feel guilty. Don't you feel guilty?

Yeonjun's been trying not to. He's already lived so much of his life with guilt.

Yeonjun: Yeah. But can't we talk? It doesn't have to be at my home.

Soobin: Okay. Are you free now? Let's go for a walk?

It's nearly midnight. Yeonjun puts on his jacket.

He buys a couple of hot packs at a convenience store and waits for Soobin on a park bench. When Soobin arrives, Yeonjun hands his gifts over.

"Oh." Soobin smiles. He pulls out hot packs from his pocket. "I got some for you, too."

"Then let's trade."

They walk, hands deep in their heated pockets. Dull street lamps illuminate the bare tree branches and the red bike path they walk along. Every so often, labored breathing and footsteps pass them by, some lunatics who want to exercise in the middle of a freezing night.

Yeonjun speaks first. "Juwon thinks we're trying for a baby, but I've been taking birth control."

He's never admitted that to anyone, but it's important for Soobin to know about this for two reasons. First, Soobin doesn't have to worry about getting him pregnant. Second, Soobin should know that he trusts him with secrets that even his husband wouldn't understand. He should know — that's the relationship they're corrupting.

"I wish you didn't feel like you have to live that way."

"But you already knew how I live, before we kissed. That's why you let me kiss you. Because you pity me."

Soobin looks at his feet. "I don't mean to pity you."

"I don't mind being pitied, if that's what it takes."

"But that's not it. I let you kiss me because I like you. I'd like you even better if you were..."

Smaller, prettier. More loyal, more subservient. No, that's not what Soobin likes.

"More like Beomgyu."

Soobin laughs, and the air turns cloudy by his mouth. "If Beomgyu and I wanted to be together, we would be. I just wish you could do what makes you happy."

"Being with you makes me happy." He brushes his fingers against Soobin's engages them for a moment, then lets go. "You know, since I presented, you're the only alpha I've ever called by name."

Soobin smiles, his dimple a dark shadow in his cheek, and scratches Yeonjun's back. Yeonjun leans into his touch.

"I did miss you," Soobin says. "I've gotten to used to you."

"I missed you too."

They walk in silence like that for a while, bumping their fingers against each other's, watching the backs of joggers.

"Your nose is red," Soobin says as they pass under another lamp.

"I'm cold." How brutal a little chill can seem, in the autumn, when you're not used to it yet.

"You're cute."

They walk off the path, farther into the dark. Their feet slide a little over the damp grass, their fingers brush against leaves. Yeonjun snakes his arms inside Soobin's open jacket, hugs him and steals his body heat.

"I want to kiss you," Yeonjun whispers.

Soobibn leans down and kisses him. His nose touches Yeonjun's cheek, his hands grip Yeonjun's hips. They're warm here. They're together.