Red is a color that spills its essence into its surroundings, easily bleeding into the foreground. Red bleeds loudly, recklessly. It’s obnoxious in its wild brashness, but only because it’s sunk into your bones. It’s temptation, and it’s unforgiving.

Red is a warm color. Sometimes it’s a burning, pulsating, volatile kind of heat. Sometimes, it’s just warm, like the conviction of blood rushing just under the skin.

Red is a bit sour when diluted; the tang of something sharp watered into a pleasant twinge, like nostalgia. It’s a bit hoarse, like scribbles of color pencils or something left out under the constant scorching of the sun.

Sungyeol is red, and he stains Myungsoo’s days into hues of scarlet in his wake.

Sungyeol’s presence is announced by the loud bang of the door hitting the wall as it’s shoved open.

“Myungsoo, let’s go out.” He says, barreling into the room.

Myungsoo’s attention is forcefully pulled away from his homework by the overwhelming weight of Sungyeol’s mere existence; a dip in the fabric of space-time.

“Sungyeol.” He says in way of reply. “One of these days, that door is going to explode into pieces because your ego is too inflated to fit through it like a normal person.

“Shut it, you oaf. My ego isn’t fat, it’s just big-boned and curvy.” Sungyeol doesn’t miss a beat as he climbs over a hamper to get all up in Myungsoo’s face. “Come on, Soo. We’re going out. You need to get about and fraternize.”

“I don’t get a say in this.” Myungsoo states.

Sungyeol cackles and points at Myungsoo accusingly. “But you do have a say. You only say that because if you acknowledge it, you feel like a tool for giving in to me so easily every time.”

Myungsoo turns away and doesn’t respond because it’s true. Sungyeol hears it in the buzzing silence anyways, and smirks at his tired-looking best friend fondly before diving into his closet.

“Black or Blue? Nevermind, black. Here,” He orders, “Put these on. Your pecs are downright unreal in that shirt.”

“Uh-uh.”

“And roll up the sleeves to just below your elbow because your forearms are a true marvel. I have witnessed those tendons and sinews impregnate women who glimpse them.“

“Right.” Myungsoo says flatly. “And what, should I leave it ed too, because my abs are…”

“Absolutely Absurd.”

“Did you just-“

Sungyeol cackles noisily.

“Sungyeol, I know you’re trying very hard, and I am very impressed at your literary genius, but I am still exactly 0% more enthusiastic about stuffing myself into a crowded place with questionable people, impregnated or not.”

Sungyeol claps him on the shoulder before breezing off with a flurry of limbs to the bathroom. His bathroom-acoustic voice floats back to Myungsoo, “If you really thought that though, you wouldn’t actually say it to me.”

“Either way, you know I really actually couldn’t care less about parties or clubs or whatever you’re trying to drag me to.”

Sungyeol tisks, darting back to stand in front of Myungsoo and cards his cold, damp fingers bathed in hair product through the softly drooping black hair, tugging and grooming until he’s satisfied with the precise, dangerous sweep of bangs.

“I’m not saying you do,”  Sungyeol hums cheerfully, and Myungsoo stares at his neck the entire time Sungyeol looms over his hair, “But you’re not capable of being apathetic when I’m excited. You do know that, right?”

“Ego.” Myungsoo grunts.

Sungyeol beams at him winningly and Myungsoo thinks that this must be what it’s like to be launched directly into the sun.

Sungyeol is not someone you can quietly pine for. It simply doesn’t work that way. It goes more like this.

Myungsoo sees Sungyeol and nothing else. He’s too deep into the hurricane that is Sungyeol for self-consciousness to even cross his mind. He gives Sungyeol everything he has to give and Sungyeol takes it all with a bright surprise, as if it wasn’t routine for them. Sungyeol gives Myungsoo more than Myungsoo can handle with no effort at all. Myungsoo is sure the weight of his own fierce devotion is obscured to Sungyeol by his own crimson radiance. So, they go out that night, Sungyeol and Myungsoo.

“Oiii, Nam Woohyuuuun!” Sungyeol leaves his side like a gust, leaving an analogous chill behind. “You scoundrel, you started without me?”

Even from a distance in the din, Sungyeol’s voice is distinct. Myungsoo trails after, seeking out the addictive feverishness of Sungyeol’s proximity.

He sees Woohyun’s laughter as he hands Sungyeol a drink, but doesn’t hear his reply.

“What are we doing here exactly?” Myungsoo asks, standing close to Sungyeol in the crowd, face hovering close to burgundy fringes.

Woohyun gasps.

Myungsoo blinks lazily, and Sungyeol turns into him in mirth and laughs loud enough for Woohyun to hear.

“You forgot my birthday Soo? I’m absolutely heartbroken.” Woohyun whines.

“Your birthday is tomorrow the last time I checked, Woohyun.” Myungsoo replies, hauling his eyes away from the flashing teeth and sanguine irises.

“Yeah well, I want to turn 21 with my best mates, drunk off my arse, and preferably with my tongue in someone else’s mouth.” Woohyun says with a grin, shoving some green stuff at Myungsoo. “Here, drink that, tight arse.”

Myungsoo glances down, and accepts it gingerly with slender fingers.

“He’s got some sort of official party tomorrow, with lots of boring official people and events.” Sungyeol explains, leaning up to speak into Myungsoo’s ear, steadying himself on Myungsoo’s elbow with a smoldering touch. “Poor kid. Aren’t you glad you came along to be an ace friend?”

“You could have just told me Woohyun asked.” Myungsoo grunts back.

Sungyeol shrugs, spins away, and throws a sloppy smirk over his shoulder, “Makes no difference. It’s not like you wouldn’t have come.”

Sungyeol drags Woohyun off with a proclamation of conquest.

Myungsoo sighs and inspects his drink, which is a startling green.

Some time later finds Myungsoo with the aftertaste of absinthe in his throat and something minty in his nose. It’s dark, and the lights are seizure inducing. Myungsoo’s eyes are glued to the sparse crowd, flashes of red tinting his field of vision.

The ebbing flow of bodies look like stop-motion in the fulgurating lights, flat and detached. Yet, Sungyeol looks like he’s wrapped up in his element of liquid fire, flashes of sharp eyebrows and honed smiles.

No one ever approaches Myungsoo. He gets his share of appreciative scrutiny and inviting glances, but something must be sufficiently off-putting about him. He gets to bask in Sungyeol’s vivid burn for a while more after all.

Woohyun comes bounding into his field of vision, something off of his fingers and thumb with a wide grin. Making grabby hands at Myungsoo with those same fingers, he insists, “Myungie, come dance with me. C'mon, c'mon.”

Myungsoo raises an eyebrow, glances at Sungyeol watching mirthfully from a distance before looking back at Woohyun, happily flushed, and hair happily mussed. Woohyun takes advantage of his moment of contemplation to drape himself over Myungsoo’s shoulder and push him towards the violently throbbing dance floor.

“How drunk is he?” Myungsoo mouths exaggeratedly at Sungyeol.

“Very!” Sungyeol mouths back emphatically.

Myungsoo chuckles despite himself.

“So even Sungyeol doesn’t try to get you to dance huh?” Woohyun drawls barely audibly over the bass, sliding against Myungsoo.

“He lets me be sometimes.” Myungsoo rumbles back, leaning into his ear.

“You know,” Woohyun mumbles towards his ear and Myungsoo leans down to hear, “I think you’re a lot more fun than you let on around him.”

Myungsoo steadies the tipsy boy when he stumbles into Myungsoo’s chest, grip resting comfortably on familiar arms.

“What are you talking about?” He rumbles back, “I am heaps of fun. All the time.”

“Right,” Woohyun grins, tapping Myungsoo on the cheek, “A huge ing blast, you are.”

They share a snicker, before the song changes and Woohyun’s eyes alight and he makes some unintelligible drunk-Woohyun noises and begins grinding with a surprising level of balance to the new beat. Though, Myungsoo laughs and grabs him by the waist when he careens into someone else.

Sungyeol meets his eyes across a few bobbing heads, and Myungsoo is stricken, because even in the havoc, Sungyeol’s leering eyes are searing. Myungsoo bites his lip hard and fixes Sungyeol with a heavy gaze. The crooked grin that breaks across his face delivers a heady jolt to Myungsoo, and he finds his body rolling to the beat of Sungyeol’s movements, front still mashed to Woohyun’s front. Sungyeol raises an eyebrow and shoots him a challenging look.

Vaguely noticing Woohyun shout something at him, Myungsoo blinks his attention back and leans his cheek into Woohyun’s temple to talk into his ear, “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said,” Woohyun yells, arms looped around Myungsoo’s shoulders to pull his ear closer, “Trynna make Yeollie jealous, huh?”

It all happens very quickly. Myungsoo feels a very deliberate roll of the hips grinding into his own to illustrate Woohyun’s point. He throws the boy a slightly alarmed look, and earns a palm to the crotch. He’s really not all that surprised at this point, because a drunk Woohyun is a very invasively handsy Woohyun.

“I know ’s not for me, Myungsoo.” He hisses into Myungsoo’s ear. “Why don’t you do so’thing about it already?”

“My ?” Myungsoo shouts back.

“No, y’ nitwit!”

“You’re pretty drunk Woohyun.”

Woohyun rolls his eyes. “Drunk, but not stupid. And it’s officially my birthday now, so since I’ve got the two other things, I need you to make out with me ri'now.”

“W-“ Myungsoo gets out half a syllable before his own worry-worn lips are pulled down to slam against Woohyun’s rosy mouth, and he’s over taken by the taste of alcohol and a tang of fruit.

“Mmph.” He tries.

Woohyun pulls a millimeter away to grumble, “Don’t try to talk, it’s uncomfortable.” Before promptly into Myungsoo parted lips.

So, Myungsoo just wonders if Sungyeol is watching and figures it’s a best mate sort of duty to give good birthday kisses, and proceeds to kiss the living out of Woohyun.

“Myung, where have you been keeping that wicked mouth of yours? Christ.” Woohyun blabbers, sprawled lazily over Sungyeol’s arm. “Yeollie, won’t you kiss the birthday boy too?”

“ off, Woohyun.” Sungyeol barks a laugh, and snorts when Woohyun look at him sadly. “Stop that, you could literally get anyone you wanted to kiss you.”

Woohyun hums sleepily, like a contented cat.

By the time Sungyeol and Myungsoo have dropped Woohyun off at his place, the atmosphere has smoothened like beaten batter, the night air stinging their cheeks as they amble down the deserted streets side by side.

“So, what was that?” Sungyeol buzzes, shivering slightly and bouncing a bit to keep warm.

Myungsoo pulls his hand out of his pocket to rub Sungyeol’s arm with a warm hand. Sungyeol hums in satisfaction.

“What was what?”

“You know what.” Sungyeol bumps his shoulder, “I’ve never actually seen you kiss a bloke before.”

“Hm.” Myungsoo shrugs.

Sungyeol gives him a bright-eyed glance. “You and Woohyun would make quite the pair.”

Myungsoo guffaws. “Me and Woohyun.”

“Graceful.” Sungyeol quips sarcastically before nudging him curiously, “What, you haven’t ever thought about it?”

Myungsoo snickers. “I have, and then immediately pissed myself laughing.”

A thoughtful silence falls between the two, and thickens palpably as they walk in step, Myungsoo with an arm draped over Sungyeol’s shoulders to trickle what’s left of his body heat onto him.

Fifteen minutes of a familiar walk home later, Myungsoo is unlocking their shared flat’s sticky door with practiced hands to let Sungyeol into the relative warmth within.

Sungyeol turns to him with steadfast eyes as Myungsoo closes the door behind himself, toeing off his shoes. “What about me?”

“What about you what?” Myungsoo yawns his reply, dropping his keys into the basket and turning his back on Sungyeol to fumble for the lamp switch.

“Have you thought about me. And you.” Sungyeol clarifies firmly, standing loosely in the deep shadows of their unlit living room.

Myungsoo freezes with his hand on the lamp, a bolt of something indistinct darting down his torso.

“You-“ He clears his throat, “You know the answer to that, Yeol.”

“Do I?” Sungyeol asks, as if he knew the answer to something, but not that. Myungsoo can feel his gaze setting fire to his back.

“How could you not?” He murmurs, abandoning the lamp and turning around. Sungyeol’s face is streaked with nothing but street light filtered through the blinds, and even then, Myungsoo can almost physically feel every twitch in his steady expression.

“Because, I can’t know things you don’t say, you dunce.”

Myungsoo words escape breathily. “You do, most of the time. I’ve no reason to hide anything from you.”

“Your expectations of me are too high, Myungsoo.” Sungyeol steps closer, voice tinged with something tight, like anger, or exasperation.

“Maybe yours are too low.” Myungsoo replies, syllables barely making it out of his mouth before Sungyeol’s lips are on it, relentless from the start.

Myungsoo whimpers something strangled into Sungyeol’s red-hot kiss. The furious burst of liquid warmth over his mouth accompanied by the aggressive, achingly familiar scent of Sungyeol and the new, equally branding taste of Sungyeol mixed with whatever he had been drinking all night knocks sparks into the back of Myungsoo’s eyes, and overtakes him entirely, and he realizes he’s clutching at Sungyeol like he’s suffocating, burning alive in the raw, untamed fire that Prometheus has brought into his arms.

His brain doesn’t catch up until their faces are numb and chins slick, until Myungsoo has memorized the way Sungyeol’s bones and muscles dip and bow under his hands and Sungyeol’s hair gives way to his fingers and stretches taut between them, ’til his finger prints have engraved themselves into Sungyeol’s scalp, Sungyeol’s jaw, his cheeks, and each minuscule groove has kissed Sungyeol’s pretty throat. He pulls away, unable to draw a single breath, incapable of blinking, staring at the street-light strewn face centimeters from his own.

His exhale rushes out when the first scalding teardrop burns its course across the back of his thumb resting high on Sungyeol’s cheek.

“, you idiot.” Sungyeol’s voice is scratchy and watery, strained like a full-to-bursting dam holding back both the moon and tide.

“You’re a bloody-“ Myungsoo swallows, “A bloody gorgeous ing menace.”

Sungyeol is silent for once. Myungsoo feels ludicrously high.

Myungsoo shakes him in bewilderment, voice weak with relief after a decade of tension. “You know you’re my entire ing universe, you utter dolt. You absolute ing .”

Sungyeol sob-laughs and jerks Myungsoo forward by the collar of his fantastic shirt with bone-white knuckles to hash their kiss-red lips together again in an attempt to actually swallow Myungsoo whole.

Yes, Sungyeol is red, and the day ends in vermillion.