Jinki gazed in the full-length mirror with the most sceptical of gazes, eyes falling upwards and downwards as he charted his appearance.

He looked good. Well, at least, in Jinki standards. His hair was ruffled playfully and his clothes were casual – but not too casual, a pair of dark denim jeans and a loose-fitting brown jacket, that Minho had once said made him look cool as hell if he raised the collar up, because then it defined his features, and Jinki didn’t have bad features. He was also wearing a newly purchased fragrance, which was sensually inviting, although he wasn’t quite sure what the actual scent was meant to be of.

Jinki leant in closer and inspected his eyes, widening them and then squinting, brushing his fingertips over his lips and smoothing down his sweatshirt.

He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to this at all. The very thought of the later evening was causing his heart to stampede, not solely in his chest, but in his mind also, fracturing each spot that attempted to reside there. He'd already vastly considered cancelling, and had even loitered outside of Jonghyun’s apartment for ten rather long seconds on Thursday afternoon with the intention of finishing the date before it had even started, but something had stopped him.

The idea made him feel physically sick – he wanted something he'd been taught man hadn’t been created to want, and was breaking every social convention he'd been indoctrinated into as a child. It also confused him, as, for many years, Jinki hadn't wanted another man, hadn't looked at a man as anything more than a brother, but he couldn’t deny the desire he'd contracted and the urge to want to see Jonghyun again and again. Jonghyun was the first person he'd even considered since he'd been with her, but he was under no false illusion that this would be a fairytale romance.

In fact, Jinki expected the exact opposite.

A rapid knocking resounded from the front door and Jinki cursed, practically sprinting from his cluttered-with-clothes bedroom and dashing down the stairs. He skipped passed Yoogeun’s toy mountain and flung open the door as soon as he reached it, the blast of cold air an unwelcome reminder of the chilly night.

"You're late!” Jinki exclaimed, gripping Minho by the arm and hauling him inside. The younger, surprised at being man-handled in such a way, could simply stare as Jinki slammed the door shut and shot a glance at the clock – it was 6:35PM.

"Hyung…” Minho attempted, as Jinki began to fluster, searching for something around the kitchen units. He looked handsome – not in an intimidating way, rather a friendly, man-around-the-neighbourhood way – but with his comfortable appearance came a wild expression and flushed cheeks, and a gaze not even broken by Minho's friendly will to do so.

"Bedtime at eight, please make sure to check the baby monitor…” As Jinki rhymed off the list of never-changing instructions, Minho tried to contemplate the oncoming vicissitudes of the evening, but found himself at a loss as Jinki finally located his car keys and let out what could only be described as a whimper of joy.

"Are you okay, hyung?” Minho queried, concern somewhat heightened from his previous experience at Jinki’s. As Minho awaited an answer, too scared to so much as remove his long, black coat, he felt a small, yet considerable, force make impact with his right leg.

​"Minnie-ho!" Yoogeun shrieked, as Minho reached down and ruffled his hair playfully.

"Yoogeun,” Jinki directed, disregarding Minho’s question, “be good for Minho, now, do you hear me?”

But Yoogeun was oblivious, as he began tugging the leg of Minho’s jeans to get him to move to the ever-growing volcano of plastic toys, the old and battered packaging coating the plethora like ash.

"We'll be fine,” Minho assured, side-stepping awkwardly alongside Yoogeun. “Now go, have fun, enjoy your exhibition and have a good night.”

Jinki paused for a second and turned to his best friend, watching him with the faintest signs of affection. It seemed he hadn’t thanked Minho yet, not really, and particularly given that this was something Minho was doing out of nothing other than the goodness of his conscience, Jinki felt guilty.

"Hey,” Jinki decided, as Yoogeun impatiently dropped Minho’s jeans and scampered to his toys by himself, to wait for his carer in peace. “When you're all grown up with kids of your own, I'll return the favour.”

“Ah, it's fine, hyung. I thought you said you were late? Just go already, seriously!” There was a smile on Minho’s lips after his exclamation that seemed to spur Jinki into action.

With one final grin, the artist left to pick-up Jonghyun.

•••

Jinki’s palms were sweating and his lips were dry as he awaited the door to open. Jonghyun was coming now and it was only mere seconds before the door would open and Jinki would step into something unescapable. He could turn away, hop back into his old, blue Volvo (parked conveniently outside Jonghyun’s flat) and he could drive. He could leave Jonghyun and pretend this whole affair had never happened, but Jinki knew, deep down, that, no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't forget the vulnerable musician so easily.

As the door cracked open, Jinki tried his best to forge a genuine smile from his doubts, but was stopped mid-motion when he saw Jonghyun.

The musician was dressed in such a contrast from how he'd been the last time Jinki had seen him. His hair was voluminously styled and Jinki noticed the traces of eyeliner and eye-shadow around his wide eyes – something he would’ve usually dismissed as looking too feminine on a man, but something he couldn't deny only added to Jonghyun’s handsomeness. His grey bomber jacket was large, drowning his frame despite the sleeves being rolled up to his elbows, and his expression was a complex one – a bundle of nervousness, expectation and happiness.

"Hey,” he greeted softly. By the look he wore, Jinki could tell he was hesitant, scared that Jinki would suddenly drop out of their date as he had in their kiss.

"Hi,” Jinki nodded, finally finishing his grin as Jonghyun rubbed his arm. “Are you ready to go?”

Jonghyun nodded and Jinki side-stepped to allow him the room to exit. The market that Jonghyun had wanted to attend was but a fifteen minute walk, and so Jinki wasn’t surprised when Jonghyun led the way down the steps and to the pavement. Jinki followed, wondering whether Jonghyun’s bare arms felt the chill of the twilight. Neither spoke for a moment as Jinki caught up with Jonghyun, walking beside the small man. Cars whistled past occasionally, joining the stream of city-life, but, for the most part, the street was as empty.

"Look,” Jonghyun finally managed, breaking the steadily growing silence with his once-again velvety tone. “I-I understand, Jinki, that this… This is probably difficult for you, so I'm okay if you want to take things slowly. We don't-we don't have to go out tonight as ‘boyfriends’, we can just go to the market as acquaintances, as friends. You've no obligation towards me, I hope you know that.”

Jinki allowed the words to sink in for a moment, quiet in the metropolitan backdrop, the street lights weakly flickering into action.

"Maybe I- Maybe I want to go as boyfriends, though.”

Jonghyun looked down, a grin forming across his lips as his heart began to thump harder in his chest.

"You're such a flirt,” he joked at Jinki, as they rounded a corner, both aware of the directions they were taking but paying them no heed. Their own thoughts were persitant barriers to the mistress of evening that tried to fluster them.

"Yeah, maybe,” Jinki answered, “but it's… I don't know, Jonghyun. I'd be lying if I said this wasn’t difficult, I feel… I feel so out of place, but I'd also be lying if I said you hadn’t been on my mind constantly since I met you.”

Jonghyun blushed, and Jinki couldn’t help but continue.

"You're the first person who has- who has made me feel this way in many years, Jonghyun, the first. I barely know you, but I don’t think I want to be just friends. I don’t think I want that. It's just…”

"It's just I'm a man,” Jonghyun offered, as Jinki’s confession drifted away. “I'm a man and-and you don't like men, I get it. That’s why you've no obligation to me, Jinki. If you feel that this isn’t right, if you want to go, then I'll understand. I won't get angry. To be honest, the fact that you came has already shocked me, because most people in your situation wouldn't have shown.”

"Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know my situation as well as you think,” Jinki mumbled, not rudely, rather sadly, as if he wanted Jonghyun to know more but couldn't quite bare to explain it.

"So… Are we going here as boyfriends, or as friends?” Jonghyun pondered, tilting his head curiously at Jinki as they walked in the dim light.

Jinki shrugged his shoulder.

"How about we just go as an eccentric, lonely painter and a talented, kind-hearted musician, and see what happens?” Jinki cocked his head at Jonghyun and smiled, prompting the younger to nod in agreement.

“You know what,” Jonghyun answered, “I think that's a great idea.”

•••

Jonghyun’s smirk had contracted from a tame giggle to a cacophonic laughter in a matter of seconds as Jinki’s cheeks reddened, the younger howling so much he had to stagger backwards and grip his stomach.

Jinki stared at him in a state of false unamusement.

"Aigoo! So cute,” Jonghyun joked, not even noticing the odd stare they both received from a middle-aged woman and her husband as they surveyed the stall opposite.

The market was a beautiful rush of scintillating scents and calm excitement; local cuisine, abstract artistries and cheap clothing filled stand upon stand, keen businessmen and women eager to make a profit from the unfiltered crowd. Lights were strung around various stalls, twinkling as the darkness descended steadily over the vibrant city, and the loud hush of many wondrous conversations sated the atmosphere's need for joy. It was a lively hide-away amidst a city darker than one would imagine, and cut through the common stresses of normality with a scythe of giddy excitement and bubbling temptation.

Jinki raised an eyebrow at Jonghyun as he managed to compose himself with the use of heavy exhalations, waving his hand.

"Sorry,” he managed, reaching out and tearing the red-bowed hair-band from Jinki’s head. The band, which was of a poignant crimson, had only served to match the colour in Jinki’s cheeks as Jonghyun had eyed it, casually nodding to the stall's owner (a stall of cute, humorous accessories) and lifting it to try it on the artist. Without time to decline, Jinki had momentarily modeled it for both Jonghyun and the stout stall-woman, struggling to dampen the urge to laugh himself as they took glee in demeaning him.

"How much is it?” Jonghyun asked the stall-owner excitedly, as she pursed her pink lips to stifle her happy confusion. Jinki audibly groaned, but chuckled, eyes flashing brightly at the pale woman.

"Just keep it,” she offered kindly, “it's yours.”

"Thank you!” Jonghyun exclaimed, bowing his head before dragging Jinki across to the next stall, hair-band in hand.

Jinki hadn’t been expecting the burst of life that had sprawled outwards from Jonghyun as soon as they'd reached the large, eventful market; his excitement was breaching upon being a contagion as his eyes had lit up at each stall. He'd told Jinki on the way over that night markets were a source of inspiration to him because they constantly seemed so alive, and there was so much to do and see. One could buy candy-floss and find odd artists and hear good music and become enraptured with the local highlights found. You could also meet new people and see the happiness radiating from each passer-by, as if no sadness existed in the world. It was a wonderful opportunity, seemingly, and to Jinki, Jonghyun had just made it even more so, his gaze a captive reminder that in a world as yawing as this, there was at least some form of harmony.

Jinki had watched the musician converse kindly, yet shyly, with strangers, and had listened to his running commentary on whatever interesting things his eyes had caught. Jonghyun was nervous, and to Jinki that was apparent, but instead of showing his nervousness through silence and timid glances, he was expelling it through a myriad of words and emotions, centred on the positive end of the spectrum. All the while, Jinki had been trying to find a fault in Jonghyun, anything to deter him from the man, but he'd found nothing. Jonghyun seemed unconventionally flawless, and it was an attribute the artist wasn't keen on destroying.

"Woah…” the musician breathed, “that looks so nice.” His kaleidoscopic eyes were trained on the vast helpings of baked goods displayed on the stall they were now standing by, and, more specifically, at a chocolate cookie with at least the same circumference as his head. There was something almost childish about Jonghyun, a curiosity for life only replicated in the young, and Jinki found it endearing to the extent of wanting to encourage it, knowing that such attitudes dissipated quickly in the modern-age.

"Sweet tooth?” Jinki asked, as Jonghyun fawned briefly over the triple-chocolate delight.

"The worst,” he admitted, “ah, but I'm watching what I eat, so I'm trying to avoid excessive… um…”

"Calories?”

"Something like that.”

"You should just buy it anyway,” Jinki laughed, “I doubt a few extra calories will make you look any less handsome.”

As soon as he'd spoken the cringe-worthy compliment, Jonghyun glanced at him, lips tugged upwards, and giggled yet again.

"That was so awful,” Jinki conceded, hiding behind his hands as embarrassment coursed through him. He was so unused to dating again that even his dialogue had become lacklustre and regretful. “I need to learn when to stop talking.”

He felt the light nudge of an elbow and dropped his hands, Jonghyun eager to garner his attention. When Jinki finally peered from behind his iron curtain, Jonghyun’s contentment didn’t go unnoticed, with his cheeks lightly flushed and his confidence faltered, the compliment having caught him off-guard.

"No,” Jonghyun assured, “it was sweet. You're a real charmer, Lee Jinki.”

"And you're an idiot,” Jinki laughed.

Though around them, the market buzzed with people influencing the worlds of others between jokes and light exchanges, Jinki and Jonghyun had become enraptured in a world of their own; Jinki had forgotten his earlier qualms, had abandoned those detrimental fears, and was now solely focused on how ethereal Jonghyun was, a slice of happiness in a world that required it. A jolt of excitement ridged itself firmly in Jinki’s stomach, alongside the slightest hint of anticipation. Although those around them were oblivious to the fluttering hearts on the verge of becoming closer, Jonghyun and Jinki certainly weren't.

"Come on,” Jonghyun beckoned, “let's keep exploring.”

•••

The walk back to Jonghyun’s flat was one laden with the sweetest of flirtations and the most peaceful of atmospheres. Their eyes would catch on a word beneath the glow of the streetlamps, and they'd occasionally wobble against each other like two drunken dreamers – not drunk on alcohol, rather on each other. Though the cold air bit at them, the midnight drawing in on the progressing season’s reserves of frost, neither felt it through the warmth exuding from each other, a warmth that even the speeding cars couldn't chill, nor the intoxicated night-wanderers.

"And… home,” Jonghyun smiled, as their footsteps receded and they once again reached the increasingly familiar steps to Jonghyun’s flat. The silence of the night embraced Jinki as memories of his previous night-time experience outside of Jonghyun’s home became a stark reminder of what he was risking by being with Jonghyun. He was risking his thoughts, his beliefs, his be​ing.

Jonghyun turned to face Jinki at the bottom of the steps, suddenly very anxious, wringing his wrists in his hands as he surveyed the elder. Both men were frozen in place, unsure of what to do with themselves or with each other. There were questions to address that prompted a tone more serious than the saccharine environment they'd created that evening.

The closest street-light tampered with the cotton pink of Jonghyun’s hair as he asked, all-too-timidly, “So, what do you think? Can the eccentric, lonely painter and the talented, kind-hearted musician be more than friends?”

Jinki bit his bottom lip and took a second to observe Jonghyun. He dug his nails into his palms and considered as if deciding the course of a lifetime. Deep down, Jinki knew he wanted Jonghyun, to be with Jonghyun, but the inexplicable array of conflictions were darkening the view of his want. If Jonghyun hadn’t been a man, maybe it would've been easier, and if the reminder of her hadn't lingered in the depth of his subconscious, he could have committed to Jonghyun with the simplest of kisses. But Jinki had his son to think about, his reputation to think about, his life to think about. This could have been a phase borne out of loneliness or a desperate attempt to be held at night by anybody but himself, however Jinki knew what he felt, stronger than every other emotion, and that was his absolute adoration of Jonghyun. This wasn't a feeling he could let go easily, and it wouldn't just turn to dust at the end of its haul. This was a spark, a dream, that could become much, much more.

"I think,” Jinki muttered nervously, “that they can - if-if that’s what the musician wants.”

Jonghyun nodded, and Jinki was almost worried when he didn’t answer with words. Instead, he took a hesitant step closer, their eyes communicating everything their words could not. Jonghyun leant up on his tip-toes, that delicious scent of strawberry and innocence washing over Jinki again, and, with the elder’s nod of permission, pressed his lips tenderly against Jinki’s. The kiss was soft and unobtrusive, but somehow managed to link them together much quicker than the rushed kiss they'd shared over a week earlier. Jinki’s stomach stirred as Jonghyun parted, and he batted back the roots of tears in his eyes as he realised his irrationality. It hadn’t been the first kiss he'd shared since her, but it'd certainly been the most sincere.

As Jonghyun lowered down again, eyes watchful of Jinki, the elder couldn’t help but snake his hand around to the small of Jonghyun’s back, pushing him closer and leaning back in to continue the kiss.

When their lips touched for a second time, Jinki felt Jonghyun’s slender hands on him, slowly working up to his shoulders, where they could go no further given the height of the younger. Their bodies were pressed together so tightly, lips soft as they gifted their passion to one another in the gentlest of ways, expectation brewing in their stomachs as they did so. Once they broke for air again, Jonghyun’s expression turned instantly serious. Jinki frowned slightly, eyes grazing over the red lips of the younger hesitantly.

"Jinki,” Jonghyun began, holding each side of the artist’s jacket closely, “are you sure you want this?”

Jinki looked at Jonghyun and touched the younger’s cheek tenderly. He knew what Jonghyun was asking, and it wasn’t a simple question of a relationship, it was the question of a lifestyle, a choice that would forever change how he saw himself and how he was perceived in the eyes of others. Being with Jonghyun could never just be a fling, because he was a man, and if Jinki were to commit, to unearth the earlier mentioned obligations Jonghyun had dismissed, his perception would change, and the perception of others on him would change. He would be a man who was dating a person of the same gender, he'd be a religious immorality, a social disaster.

But Jinki wanted to be with Jonghyun.

"Yes,” he answered, “I want it.”

With Jonghyun’s face cupped in his hands, Jinki returned to reassert another kiss.