The rain is bitter and relentless.

Jiyong’s heart crawls with frustration. His arms are beginning to tire from holding his umbrella up, which isn’t doing much to shield him from the chill that scurries across his skin in shivers. Umbrella after umbrella passes by the bench he is sitting on, save the occasional empty-handed person who rushes past to escape the rain.

One passes by too close to him, sending puddle water detonating in his direction. His soaked office-shirt and trousers paste to his cold skin.

Oh well. Not like he wasn’t already wet.

The grey filter the weather casts on the world is like a mockery to his sullen mood. The never-ending thrum of the rain beats into his skull where it washes with the sound of his boss’s infuriated voice still lingering in his head like a nightmare.

Yeap, he feels like .

He pulls his phone out for the umpteenth time, feeling resigned when the notification-less wallpaper greets him. Raindrops splatter over the screen and he futilely swipes at the wet touchscreen to no avail, so he gives up and pockets his phone. Every time he looks at the message screen of more sent messages than received ones, he finds himself cringing. Haeyoung has a tendency to reply to his texts and calls very late, or not at all. When confronted about it once, she responded with something about not being an easy girl and said something like you have to put in work to get me, oppa.

Jiyong didn’t know the opposite of ‘easy’ was ‘insane’.

Why would a girl tell him to wait for her in the park outdoors after work when it’s been raining since morning? And why in the name of heaven and hell and everything between did Jiyong agree?

Why, oh why indeed. (She must be evil.)

There’s nothing he can do about it now, except wait for her with gritted teeth as the rain seeps into his bones. There is no shelter in sight, and if Jiyong leaves and Haeyoung comes, he’ll be in for a dire scolding because the girl is fussy like that. (He has already played out the scenario in his head; he decided that dealing with her more-sardonic-than-silent silent treatment is not worth being out of the rain.)

He shivers.

The bitter taste hasn’t left his mouth since work this afternoon. He ed up again, did something the boss didn’t like (“detested more than his wife’s broccoli casserole” in the words of the big man himself), and had to lug his sorry through the day if he didn’t want to get fired. Now he sits on a rotting bench in the rain, literal freezing.

A flyer flutters to the ground from someone’s hand, and he watches as it gets soggy and trodden. And soggy and trodden.

A cynical smile tugs at his lips.

His heart feels a little like that piece of paper right now. Mushed up and all stepped over. Ripping at the edges. Litter in people’s lives.

He squints at the sheet and reads out the text in a half-hearted mumble.

“Ballroom dancing… Friday nights 7pm, Rockhill Centre… Bring $5 and a dancing partner.”

It sounds like it would be a romantic idea… if only Haeyoung didn’t have two left feet and the musical sense of a vacuum cleaner. He sighs.

The flow of people passing by dwindles but the rain doesn’t. Jiyong resigns to the fact that maybe he was a criminal in his past life, someone who committed sins of utmost despicability, to warrant such a ty current life.

He lets his eyes lazily flitter around his surroundings. Branches drooping low and bobbing under the flurry of raindrops. Leaves shivering in the wind. Gravel of the path turned into slosh that makes a wet crunch with every footstep. Unhappy people walking by with unhappy expressions.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Jiyong wants to cry.

But he feels himself empty of tears, and therein lies another mockery! How come the sky has the liberty to weep on everyone when Jiyong can’t?

Until his gaze is snagged by an erratically stumbling figure travelling in his direction, edges blurred by the rain.

His eyebrows knit together tightly.

Not only stumbling… Skipping too? And spinning? The figure is flapping his arms in a childlike manner, hopping from one foot to the other as if the ground had chalk-lined hopscotch squares, but at the same time possessing the grace and vigour of a dancer. He is umbrella-less, but he seems beyond unfazed – glad, even. As he approaches, Jiyong sees a white grin split across on his face as he closes his eyes against the grey sky, glee exuding past the slicing raindrops.

Jiyong’s lip twitches in confoundment.

A sound like birds at dawn, garbled by the rain, finds its way into his ears. The stranger is giggling. In the rain. While drenched to the core.

This boy is a lunatic.

Normally, Jiyong would dismiss and avoid these kinds of people like the plague. But something in him is hooked, reeled in by the dichotomous allure of a dancing boy in miserable weather. It ignites an indignation in the pit of his stomach; he’s livid at this world and livid at himself, and here comes along a ditz without a care in the world to make him feel even more resentful.

Before he knows it, he is leaping to his feet and words are leaping from his mouth.

“Are you crazy?!”

Perhaps his voice is drowned out by the static of the rain, because the boy continues dancing like he’s a figure in a music box with music no one else can hear. He twirls past the bench and any other time, Jiyong would let him pass by and never think about him again. But the stir of curious feelings in him compels him to try.

“Hey, you! Are y–”

The boy stops. Eyes like a gentle storm meet his, and for a moment, the rain on his skin is warm.

“No, I’m Seungri.” He his head to one side and grins. Wide. So wide.

He resumes dancing, sticking his heel toe, heel toe into the ground like a tap dancer. Jiyong blinks the rain out of his eyes, mouth hanging open in incredulity.

“I mean, what are you doing without an umbrella? You’re soaked to the bone!” A shiver dashes up his spine.

“No, I’m gooooood.”

The words are stunned on Jiyong’s tongue. How can he help this nutcase?

“What are you doing?”                                                                      

“Dancing, can’t you see?”

Jiyong actually laughs at the absurdity of it all. “It’s raining cats and dogs and pigs and cows! Why would you be dancing!”

“Don’t you hear it?”

He pauses and tilts his head. Just the thrum of the rain. “Hear what?”

“I’m so happy it’s finally raining, it’s been too hot lately.” His question is ignored as Seungri does a leap and a spinning hop. “Also, I was sweaty from dance practice and this is like a free shower!”

Oh, so he is a dancer. That explains his fluid movements… which are somehow mesmerising to watch, now that Jiyong really looks at it.

“Right.”

“Wanna join me?” Seungri offers him an open palm.

Jiyong’s eyebrows rise and strangely, his heartbeat quickens.

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Rain continues falling around them and Jiyong is frozen on the spot while Seungri is back to his drunken-like-stumbling-dancing. He doesn’t stray too far though, always coming back towards Jiyong like a rope of gravity keeps him tethered. 

“What are you doing in the rain, then?”

Jiyong startles and clears his throat to compose himself.

“I’m… waiting. For my girlfriend. She’s running very late.”

“Oh.” Seungri stops. “Shall I wait with you, then?”

“Um, o-okay.”

Jiyong remains stoic as Seungri hops to the spot next to him.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

He tries not to make it obvious that he shifts awkwardly. Now what? We’re both standing here. Should I sit down again? Does he want to sit? Oh god, why did I say okay? I should have just told him to go away.

“What’s your name?” Seungri shatters the silence between them (which honestly probably was not long at all, though it felt like an eternity to Jiyong) and plonks onto the bench.

Well that answers his question.

Jiyong takes a seat carefully, cringing when his bottom meets the wet wooden surface. He gets a better look at Seungri now, who is smiling patiently at him. His brown hair is plastered to his face in clumps and raindrops like liquid crystals slop off his skin. His soaked blue cotton tee clings to his form, accentuating soft muscle definition. Jiyong gulps.

“I’m Jiyong.”

Seungri’s eyes flicker and his smile widens, as if being let in on a secret.

“I’m Seungri, if you didn’t catch that earlier.” He giggles and wipes the rain out of his eyes. “How old are you?”

“22.”

“I’m 20. Hyung! I can call you hyung, right?”

His grin is so bright that Jiyong can’t help but smile back. “Sure.”

The rain smells a little sweeter in the air. The smile drops off his face though, when he realises he has been hogging the umbrella to himself. Mentally facepalming, he extends his arm so that the umbrella covers Seungri.

“Sorry, I should have shared it earlier. That was dumb.”

“That’s okay, hyung.” The younger’s smile is like a kitten’s, thin pink lips curving with youth and playfulness. “Wait, you’re getting wet.”

“I’m fine–”

Seungri shuffles closer to him on the bench and Jiyong shuts his mouth. There’s still a polite distance between their bodies, but it almost makes Jiyong jump in his seat at how much closer Seungri’s face is.

Why am I like this? Ah.

“Do you want me to hold the umbrella, hyung? Your arm must be tired.”

“Um, okay. If you don’t mind.”

He smiles again and his eyes melt into brown puddles of warmth. He takes hold of the umbrella handle and a lightning current runs up Jiyong’s fingers when they brush Seungri’s.

Why is this loopy boy making me jittery? God, this is weird. This whole situation is absurd.

“If you don’t like the rain, what kind of weather do you like?”

Jiyong raises his eyebrows. It’s the first time he’s been asked that question, and it seems so trivial and undeserving of an answer that it, paradoxically, makes him want to respond. “Don’t care. I don’t like weather. I like it when it does not interfere with my life.”

Seungri gasps, mouth falling open comically.

“You don’t like sunshine?”

“No.”

“Snow?”

“No.”

“Wind?”

“No.”

“Ooh ooh, what about hail?”

“You nuts? Of course not!”

The way the boy’s eyes droop in disappointment and the silence that ensues tug at Jiyong’s heart. There is something endearing in the sight of his wet locks of hair falling over his eyes, like a lonely puppy with drenched fur. Jiyong opens his mouth to make amends but Seungri’s head perks up again.

“You must have a favourite colour then?”

“I’m indifferent.”

“Favourite food?”

“I only eat to survive.”

“Favourite animal?”

“They don’t concern me.”

“Favourite month?”

“Routine makes every day of the year the same.”

Offence paints Seungri’s features. “Do you like anything?”

“I don’t think about things like that.”

“How can you not? Everyone knows what they like and why.” He takes a deep breath as if preparing for a speech. “I like rain because it’s refreshing, pink because it has the passion of red but it’s softer, strawberry bingsu which doesn’t need an explanation because bingsu is awesome, giraffes because they have cool necks, and April because that’s when the cherry blossoms are in bloom. Now your turn.”

“You sound like a twelve-year-old girl.”

Seungri’s eyes search in stunned silence but it takes a moment for him to register the playful twist of Jiyong’s lips.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.” But Jiyong nods vigorously, grin dangling off his face.

“What?!”

Without thinking, he shoves the younger playfully. Seungri yelps and Jiyong almost feels sorry.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s holding the umbrella, you know?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes it is. I could easily run away with your umbrella.”

“I could easily chase you.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s a challenge.

Seungri leaps to his feet and dashes away while Jiyong laughs to himself, loud, uninhibited. He momentarily considers staying on the bench and waiting for Seungri to come back, but some newfound excitement that fizzes inside of him propels him to his feet.

“Come back!”

His suitcase is getting soaked through where he’s left it on the bench but that doesn’t bother him. Screw those documents anyway.

His legs feel as if liberated from chains of his office chair. His joints are a little rusty but it feels good to finally move them around. Seungri’s giggles are like staccato notes of a piccolo as Jiyong grabs him by the shoulders and spins him around.

Gosh, his smile is like the sunshine as well as the rain. Brilliant but soothing.

“You got me,” Seungri murmurs, smile softening.

Jiyong snaps out of his trance and his heart stutters once he realises he’s still holding onto the other. Weirdly, he doesn’t want to let go, so he drags Seungri back to the bench as an excuse to keep holding on. Maybe he imagines it, but Jiyong thinks the distance between him and Seungri is much closer when they take a seat again.

“You run like a twelve-year-old girl.” Jiyong rolls his eyes with a smile.

“You chase like a twelve-year-old girl.”

“You giggle like a twelve-year-old girl.”

Seungri opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. “What’s wrong with being a twelve-year-old girl?!”

“Nothing!”

It’s cute, is the part Jiyong doesn’t say.

“I get it now!” Seungri smacks his thigh in realisation. “You don’t want to admit the things you like because you’re scared of sounding like a twelve-year-old girl. Am I right or am I right?” He gives a cocky hmph with a feline smirk.

The words fly right out of Jiyong’s mouth. He scoffs and shoves him on the shoulder again.

Lame excuse, Jiyong. Your fingers keep craving to touch him again.

Seungri’s voice shakes him from his thoughts. “You know, it’s not a twelve-year-old girl thing to like rain. Anyone’s allowed to like anything. Why don’t you like rain?”

“Aside from the obvious reasons that it makes me freezing and wet and disgusting, and makes the day dark and gloomy and–”

“Yes, aside from those obvious reasons!”

Jiyong shoots him an incredulous look and wonders if Seungri even understands himself sometimes. Shaking his head, he gathers some dusty memories.

“Okay honestly… I like the rain. When I’m indoors.” The words stumble out awkward, unfamiliar, but a fond smile creeps onto his face at the recollections. “As a kid, I used to like sitting by the window when it rained… Listening to the gentle wash, watching raindrops racing down the glass like tadpoles, or bursting on the ground in sparks.” Forgotten serenity washes over him. “And sometimes I’d creak the window open just a tad to smell the sweet rain, but my mom would come in and tell me to shut it or I’d catch a cold…”

Seungri is wordless, absorbing every word with wide eyes.

“But that was ages ago,” Jiyong dismisses. “And sitting by the window watching the rain is a waste of time. My boss is always yelling at me for being behind deadlines. And my girlfriend would start complaining that I’m paying more attention to a window than her…”

At the mention of his boss and girlfriend, a dead weight drops on his chest.

“Ah, that girlfriend. The one you’re waiting for.” Seungri’s gaze shifts onto the gravel in front of them. “Why in the rain, by the way?”

Jiyong sighs and watches the raindrops create circles in a puddle. “Long story. Because she told me to, basically. I don’t really have much choice not to, otherwise she’ll flip her lid at me and that’s not pretty.” He sighs again.

“I see.” Seungri’s creased eyebrows and concerned pout are so comforting it makes Jiyong open the floodgates of his worries.

“I’m not meant to be jaded this early in life, I mean, I barely came out of university and it’s like I’m having a midlife crisis. Life is great, yeah? We’re born and we die and all we do is find ways to fill up the time in between. Splendid.

“I try so hard sometimes and it may sound selfish but I don’t ever get anything in return. Sometimes I just want to be treated like I am worth it. My girlfriend, she’s just so… I don’t know. Controlling. Tells me to do this and that, and I try to do it all, to be it all, but it’s tiring. It’s exhausting. And now I’m waiting in the rain for someone who probably won’t show up. She’s not picking up the phone and she’s probably forgotten about me. I had a day at work too. It’s my fault for agreeing to meet her here, I guess. Why am I such a pushover sometimes? The thing is, I don’t even…” He draws in a sharp breath that prickles his lungs. “Do I even… I try to but I… I don’t love her. I do, as a friend, but I’m not in love with her and I don’t think I ever was… Is that bad?”

Jiyong takes his face into his hands, groaning.

He feels a hand on his back, comfort into his tired bones. “That’s perfectly alright. It’s not your fault you feel or don’t feel a certain way. I don’t doubt you do your best.”

“Yeah, thanks.” A beat of silence before he shoots up. “I’m sorry! Why did I spill all of that? That was rude of me!”

“That’s okay. I’m a good listener.”

“God, I’m an idiot. Let’s not talk about me,” he mumbles and clears his throat. “Let’s talk about you. So, you dance, huh?”

Seungri’s eyes light up. Like that, Jiyong’s frustration dissipates. Even now the boy seems to be dancing in his seat. Maybe it’s something about his eyes or his lips that dances.

“Yeah, I go to Rockhill Centre to practise by myself or with my friend Daesung.”

Rockhill Centre? Why does that name sound so familiar?

Oh. The flyer for ballroom dancing. The annoyance lingers but he pushes it away.

“Don’t you go to school?”

He laughs, a little mockingly, as if the idea of institutionalised education is ridiculous. “Nope.”

“Do you go to a dance school then?”

“Actually… I got kicked out of my last one and haven’t been bothered to find a new place.”

“Kicked out, huh?”

“Let’s just say I got too… rebellious. And stubborn. Definitely stubborn.”

Jiyong’s laughter cuts through the rain and Seungri smiles sheepishly. There’s a spark in the elder’s heart that makes his breathing hitch.

“Do you dance all day then?” His gaze trails down his body and there’s animation throughout his form. It’s enchanting. “Well, from the looks of it…”

“I play the piano too!”

His eyes fall onto Seungri’s fingers, soft and chubby, and imagines them running over the keys of a piano, tender like the way they might run over skin…

“I like going to the nursing home to play for the elderly. There’s a grandmother there who loves when I play Satie. Do you know Satie?”

Everything about him is so soft… His gaze, his skin, his talk…

Too distracted by the heat blooming throughout his body, he mumbles, “Um, no?”

His lips… How can they be so pretty? Even when soaked through, raindrops on his eyelids, this boy is beautiful.

“He was a French composer. The grandma loves the piece Je Te Veux. It’s one of my favourites too.”

He has the most adorable nose. And eyebrows. And his cheeks when he smiles. God.

“What does that mean?”

But there’s something to him that’s more than physically gorgeous. He has an invisible pull, an aura that’s so compelling, so bewitching–

“I want you.”

“Huh?”

Jiyong’s stupid blurting is stupid. And his thundering heart is stupid too.

“It means I want you.” Seungri’s laughter rumbles from deep within his belly. “The title. Of the piece.”

“Oh, right.” A strange disappointment settles in his chest. “Sounds romantic.”

“I’ll play it for you next time.”

Next time?

“Yeah. Next time.”

Seungri’s eyebrows are definitely dancing now as they quirk up in invitation. There’s a curious curve to them, a mystery in the glint of his eye that Jiyong can all but figure out. His breaths are shallow now and they make his head dizzy.

It feels too intimate suddenly, two strangers sitting close on a bench with an umbrella enclosing them from the rest of the world, a little sanctuary from the rain. Jiyong hasn’t felt his heart bouncing like this in ages.

Seungri’s lips twist upwards in a way that makes the other want to keep staring at them. “To be honest, I haven’t got my life in order either. I bum around and spend too much time dreaming. Barely scraping together enough by working odd jobs for rent and food.” There’s a long pause and Jiyong doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath. “But meeting you, it’s kinda… made me want to do something in life. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s something in your eyes…”

He leans closer and Jiyong instinctively leans back, eyebrows elevating. It’s such a bizarre thing to hear, because he knows his eyes are jaded and soulless while Seungri is the one with dancing eyes.

“I see passion buried in them. Dulled by reality, but it’s there. It’s intriguing. For some reason, it makes me want to reach in deep… and pull it to the surface… to let that fire burn…”

Seungri’s eyes fall on his lips and Jiyong can’t lean any further without losing his balance and falling over the edge of the bench. Whether involuntarily or willingly, he stays frozen.

His heart is throbbing and his lungs knot up when Seungri inches forward, eyelids drooping shut.

Panic clawing up his throat, Jiyong blurts, “Woah wait, I don’t kiss strangers.”

Seungri pulls back slightly. Even though his whole body is tensed up and thoughts are flying wild in his head, from this distance Jiyong finds himself entranced by the fire in his brown eyes that has him drowning.

The younger points to himself, then to him. “Seungri. Jiyong. Acquainted.” He smiles and resumes closing the gap between them.

Shoulders trembling on the verge of exploding, Jiyong jumps to his feet and tosses his arms up defensively. “Woah, wait, I have a girlfriend, remember? I can’t just…”

Seungri regards him with wide eyes for a frozen moment before he drops the umbrella and presses his palms into his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters. “I mean, you said that you don’t really have feelings for her but that shouldn’t be an excuse for me to kiss you. Heck, you probably don’t even swing my way. Maybe I read the signals wrong.” He rubs his temples in shame. “To let you know, I don’t normally do this to people I’ve just met. You’re a… um… special case. I just…” He glances up. “You’re really cute and I think I would come to really like you once I get to know you more.”

He offers a hesitant smile and Jiyong is glad the rain cools down the immense heat in his face. His heart is still pounding so hard it hurts.

“But why?”

Seungri blinks before his face contorts in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why would you like me? I’m boring and trapped in a life that doesn’t treat me well and I’m kind of good-for-nothing.”

Jiyong is genuinely perplexed. He doesn’t want to disappoint such an amazing boy when the younger finds out what he’s really like. Being with Seungri sounds like a fantasy you could spend an eternity dreaming about with the awareness that it’ll never be reality.

“Why would you say that?” He stands, almost indignantly. “You stopped a dancing stranger in concern that I’d get sick because you’re a kind person. You’ve been sitting in the rain for almost an hour waiting for your girlfriend who hasn’t shown up because you’re a patient person. You refused me when I tried to kiss you because you’re a loyal person. The way you speak can be so poetic and intelligent. On the inside, you’re just a kid like me too even if you may forget it’s there inside you. And that’s all I’ve gathered from one meeting, imagine how wonderfully complex you’d be if I got to see more of you.”

The hammering of Jiyong’s heart drowns out any thread of coherent thought. His tongue stays rooted, unable to form a single letter.

“Also…” Seungri sits, picking the umbrella up, and Jiyong mechanically follows suit. The younger closes his eyes as a wistful smile graces his lips. “Have you ever given an umbrella to a stranger?”

Jiyong manages to move his lips. “No…? I don’t remember. Maybe?”

“It must have been at least four years ago… I was walking home from school. Earlier that day, some kids spread an ugly rumour about me that wouldn’t leave my head. My heart was hurting so much and I was on the verge of tears. Like an insult to injury, it began to rain, pretty heavily.”

Sympathy fills Jiyong’s chest like water in a pitcher. He reaches a hand to pat Seungri’s knee, but his fingers curl away.

“I was about to start sobbing because I couldn’t take it anymore… But then a boy – he must have been a senior – walked up to me and shared his umbrella. I didn’t even know him, he had a different school’s uniform, but he walked with me. He must have noticed the expression on my face because he talked about things to cheer me up.”

Seungri grins and Jiyong feels a thin envy in the pit of his stomach for this boy in the story. Underneath gratitude, of course.

“Then his phone rang, I could hear his friend shouting his name and to get his over there because he was late. And he turned and left before I could even say thank you.”

Seungri’s eyes peel open.

“Jiyong. His name was Jiyong, and I remember that to this day. He left the umbrella with me. It was blue–”

“And had lightning bolts on it! I remember that one! It was my favourite back in high school!”

Jiyong’s heart leaps and he almost jumps out of his seat as the memory smacks him. Seungri turns to him, eyes twinkling like a civilian gazing at his hero.

“You saved my life. I don’t know what I would have done that day, I could have gone home and hurt myself real bad if it weren’t for you. Maybe I’m still not the most stable person but I learned to live. And if you think your life isn’t working out, I’ll help you live. It’s the least I can do.”

The only thought that gallops through Jiyong’s head at this moment is that this boy is beautiful.

Seungri chuckles. “Maybe I’ve been a little in love with the thought of you for the past few years. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me going. I knew we’d meet again someday.”

Jiyong barely catches the scarlet tint in his cheeks before he stands up, ditching the umbrella, and extends a hand.

“Dance with me.”

Jiyong’s brain still hasn’t processed everything that Seungri has said but all he knows is that dancing with him sounds like the loveliest idea.

So he takes his hand, allowing himself to be pulled up, and Seungri drags him with light feet like a pre-schooler might.

“We’re going to catch a cold? Sometimes the suffering is worth it! I mean, we get to dance in the rain! What could be better!” Seungri sings to a random tune, grabbing his other hand and spinning them around like a merry-go-round.

The world blurs around them as he collides with a hundred falling raindrops, and Jiyong lets his laughter run free, a bird set free from its cage. His heart feels like it can soar to any corner of the earth.

“This is what we live for. Moments like this!” Seungri yells and spins them faster.

Jiyong’s laugh morphs into a cry as his bottom crashes onto the wet gravel.

“Ouch.”

Seungri face flashes with panic before he laughs and offers his palm. “Maybe I spoke too soon. It’s okay, hyung. As long as you pick yourself up after you fall.”

Jiyong rolls his eyes and pushes himself up, brushing the gravel off his palms and backside. Seungri grasps his hands and yanks him close, one palm sliding to his back. Jiyong is sure Seungri can feel his heartbeat threatening to rip out of his chest. He places his hand on the younger’s back and Seungri leads him in a fast-waltz through the rain.

Their noses are so close and Jiyong doesn’t know where to lay his eyes. The whole time, Seungri gazes at him softly with his eyes like dark chocolate, melting and melting him along with it.

His feet stop then and he threads his fingers through Jiyong’s sopping hair. The rain is a cocoon around them.

“Would it be okay if I… if I kissed you? I really want to.” His whisper barely sounds over the rain but Jiyong can feel his breath scorching against his own lips.

Without allowing himself a moment to think or doubt, he presses his lips against Seungri’s, arms wrapping around his waist. The boy responds so immediately he’d think they’ve been in sync their whole lives. Seungri kisses with as much passion as he displays for life, if not more, and Jiyong finds himself drinking like a thirsty man who has finally found a lake in the desert. He tastes like sweet rain and electric energy and a lifetime worth of adventure.

Jiyong pulls away with one final at his lips and their panting breaths fill the little space between their faces. Seungri’s mouth curls into a smile.

“You’re really something, you know?” he says.

“Me?! You’re out of this world!” 

Seungri giggles and pecks him on the lips. Light hits his face, making his stunning features glow, and Jiyong beams when he realises the rain has thinned and the sun is reaching through the grey clouds.  

“What are you doing Friday night? I could take you ballroom dancing.” His fingers lightly massage the elder’s scalp.

It’s impossible to conceal the joy on his face, singing in his heart. “That sounds lovely. I’ve always wanted to go but I could never find a partner.”

“Well aren’t you glad I showed up then.” Seungri’s eyes hold the frenzy of a storm as well as the calm after it.

“Extremely.”