The Thirteenth day of August. Summer. Hot.

 

There was no God. There was no mercy, no mother’s love, no freshly baked bread. There never was a moment where they were safe. 

 

Not when Kim Jongdae and Do Kyungsoo existed together. In the same timeline. In the same room. 

 

“We need a piggy bank,” Jongdae said, nursing an ice-cold red soda, an abomination that left your tongue colored and your nerves wheezing.

 

Kyungsoo had an ice-cold americano in his hand. The drink for the dead. “No, we do not.” If anything, he had disagreed just to disagree. Probably.

 

“Yes, we do. If we want to save money, we should do it properly.”

 

“You can start saving by saving the money you’re going to waste on a piggy bank.”

 

Jongdae finished up his glass of soda, belched, and poured himself some more. “As soon as we get that piggy bank.”

 

“No,”

 

“Yes,”

 

Baekhyun had nothing to say. The fan he had brought out of the storage and washed it up was cheerfully working on its highest level of power, but the relief it provided was for a splitting moment. His skin was cracked and dry, with tiny burn marks that made him wince every now and then. His back was stuck to the wall, his bare legs were stuck on the floor.

 

They had no curtain. The windows were big. The sun was — ing of course — bright and hot. Hot. It was so hot. 

 

The ice-cold cola zero he was drinking was the only consolation. Consolation that burned his stomach open and melted his teeth. Well, he was going to die anyway.

 

“No,”

 

“Yes,”

 

“No,”

 

“Yes,”

 

“ no.”

 

“ yes,”

 

“Piggy bank will bring us luck,”

 

“It will do no such thing,”

 

“You don’t know that,”

 

“I do,”

 

“No, you don’t,”

 

“I do,”

 

“You don’t,”

 

“Do,”

 

“Don’t”

 

“Do,”

 

“You’re such an ,”

 

“Thanks,”

 

Wow, they could go on. Baekhyun had expected them to be out of energy by now. How were they still talking?

 

Peace was never an option. Rain would never bless again. The rainbow would never bow again. There was only light. Glaringly bright and hot light. Burned. Scorched. Damned.

 

So. ing. Hot.

 

“I want a piggy bank!” Jongdae snapped.

 

“Earn some money first!”

 

“I will, as soon as I get my piggy bank!”

 

“So it’s your piggy bank? Slimy bastard,” Kyungsoo spat out, “I should have known.”

 

“We should eat something,” Jongin said. He was lying on the floor on his side, his back to Baekhyun. He had finished his ice-cold latte, and had a cold towel wrapped around his neck. Apart from that towel and the thin cotton shorts, he was . Baekhyun could see the thin sheet of sweat around his back. Jongin’s back. The only reason Baekhyun hadn’t jumped out of the window. 

 

“And then go out and get a piggy bank?” Jongdae said hopefully. 

 

“I don’t care about your pig,” Jongin mumbled. He was probably sleepy. “But I only had coffee today. We need to eat something.”

 

“I have no appetite,” Baekhyun’s lips were chapped, probably because of the fan, without which he would die, so it was a small price to pay. Occasionally he tugged at the dead skin.

 

“You have to have something, hyung,” Jongin said gently. “Otherwise you’ll get a headache. Shall we get some ice cream cake? Better than nothing.”

 

“Proper food first,” Baekhyun said, ”and then dessert.”

 

“But you said you don’t have an appetite,” said Jongdae.

 

“He shuts off completely during hot days like this,” Kyungsoo said. “Last summer, he would have starved if I hadn’t come around with food. But he’ll eat if you give it to him.”

 

“We have some leftover chicken,” Jongin said.

 

“If we have chicken,” Jongdae said slowly, as if his lowly brain was trying to decipher a complicated code, “we can have chicken. Baekhyun eats chicken.”

 

“I’ll heat up the chicken and mix it up with some rice and egg, if you’ll promise to shut up about the piggy bank,” Kyungsoo offered.

 

Jongdae snorted and then belched. “I have some pride, you know?”

 

“Do you?”

 

“No,”

 

Jongin giggled and rolled on his back, then covered his eyes with his hands as the sun started to viciously attack his face. 

 

“Thought so,” Kyungsoo got up slowly. “Be right back,”

 

“Don’t forget my sriracha sauce,” Jongdae said.

 

“ you,”

 

“Thanks,”

 

“That was not a compliment!”

 

“Hurry up with the chicken already,”

 

“You’re not getting any!”

 

Jongin sighed. He rolled to his side again, but this time he faced Baekhyun. He smiled and pointedly rolled his eyes at the ridiculous banter. Baekhyun smiled back, wishing his eyes would focus more, that his body was more awake, alert. It was not everyday Kim Jongin was sprawled in front of you, sweaty and almost .

 

Jongdae protested fiercely, as if Kyungsoo denied his right to e, something he had attempted to do before. So, yes, there was that. “I paid my share!”

 

“You did nooooooooot !” Kyungso screeched, like a hen. “You said you would but then you didn’t!”

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll pay now. Bring me my wallet,”

 

“Like hell I would,”

 

“We’re all going to die,” Jongin said calmly.

 

“Yes,” Baekhyun whispered.

 

“How am I supposed to pay if you don’t let me pay?” Jongdae added nastily. Any second now, Kyungsoo was going to hit him.

 

Kyungsoo didn’t hit Jongdae. He threw something at him, it went by so fast that Baekhyun couldn’t figure out what it was, and it hit the target right on. Jongdae yelled. Jongin and Baekhyun laughed.

 

“Next time I’ll come with a broom. You can order some cold drinks for us, to pay for your share,” Kyungsoo was in the kitchen now. His voice echoed through their mostly-empty apartment. It was old but had freaking five bedrooms, aside from a huge living room, where Baekhyun was currently contemplating the meaningless of living. The shape was unique — almost a perfect hexagon room with a raised platform for the tall windows. Baekhyun had taken one look at the view and had decided then and there. 

 

All the windows were open but despite their high location, the wind had deserted them, leaving them to waste and perish. No help was to come. No love was to held, and — 

 

“I’m not going to apologize for having a !” Jongdae roared.

 

. What were they saying before that?

 

Jongin sighed again.

 

“I told you to apologize for being a , you !” Kyungsoo was screaming from their kitchen. It was also old but uniquely styled. Little colorful tiles were everywhere. The sink was a big and separate thing in the corner, to where you had to carry your dishes and wash them. They could have easily bathed a toddler in it. Kyungsoo, Baekhyun knew, was in love with the room.

 

“I will not ,”

 

“Apologize,”

 

“No,”

 

“Apologize,” Kyungsoo repeated, and he sounded so clenched that Baekhyun was surprised he hadn’t bit through his teeth.

 

“No, leave me alone,”

 

“Apologize, or I’ll tell,”

 

“Tell what?” Jongin perked up.

 

“Yeah, what?” Jongdae tried to sound tough but there was an undeniable unease in his words. “What do you have against me?”

 

“The time you hit your coach on the head with a stick,”

 

“ — dude!” Jongdae got up from his seat. “That’s not how you threaten!”

 

“What coach?” Jongin asked Baekhyun.

 

“Jongdae was kind of a Judo prodigy when he was a kid,” Baekhyun explained.

 

Kyungsoo snorted. “Now, apologize,”

 

“No, you already did the damage. Again,” Jongdae pulled down his short, waddled around so that his was facing the fan, “that’s not how threats work, you idiot,”

 

“You’re the idiot if you think that’s the only one I got on you,”

 

“Dude, why’d you hit your coach?” Baekhyun smirked. “Did he try to cut down your food? He ate massive portions,” he added to Jongin, who smiled and nodded.

 

“No,” Jongdae frowned, “ should I know, man. He was bald, his head was really shiny that day. I had a stick,” he shrugged. “And I was ten.”

 

“So what else do you have on him?” Jongin called out to Kyungsoo. His hip bones were jutting out, leaving some space open between his body and underwear. Baekhyun kept staring at the line, and he almost missed out on Kyungsoo’s answer.

 

“... the pink vomit, how could I forget. And that time you made Baekhyun stick a screwdriver to the outlet —”

 

“I didn’t make him do it!”

 

Jongin sat up. His tummy folded in, and he was pouting. “Were you okay?” he asked.

 

Baekhyun blinked. “Yes,”

 

“Do you want me to make Jongdae hyung cry?”

 

“I was six!” Jongdae roared, like the savage that he was. “And I had done it first, the only reason I told him to do it was because I liked it!”

 

“That just shows how dumb you are! Who likes getting shocked to death?” Kyungsoo retorted.

 

“I thought it was funny!”

 

“You nearly killed Baekhyun!”

 

“He did?” Jongin sat up again and came to sit down next to him. If it was anyone other than Jongin coming so close to him while mother nature was doing its best to suffocate him during daylight, Baekhyun would have taken it as an invitation to duel to death, but this was Jongin — Baekhyun didn’t mind it one bit. At least, he thought to himself, his last memory would be a happy one, if he died, which would happen any minute now, he was sure.

 

Baekhyun shrugged. “I fainted, but then Mom was screaming and I woke up. I got a bunch of snacks that day. My parents let me order chicken for dinner and my grandpa bought me the ball I was begging them to get,”

 

“You had to beg for a ball?” Jongin’s head was also resting against the wall, and he turned to Baerkhyun, a small but amused smile on his face.

 

“Oh, it was a super duper special one,” Baekhyun said seriously. “Because once you threw it, it had the potential to land on the moon. All the kids loved it but the parents hated it. Jongdae had one, and he broke the tv with it.”

 

“Of course he did,”

 

“Yep,”

 

Jongin was still looking at him, and Baekhyun was not the sort of person who just looked at someone’s face and not say anything, but this was Jongin — kind and handsome Jongin, who found a cat huddled in the corner on a cold winter morning, snuck her into school, charmed the teachers to keep her with himself for the day, took her to his home, where he charmed his parents into keeping her until they found a suitable home for it. This was Jongin, who turned from a pouty little boy, to a pouty lanky teenager, and into a tall, lean, hot, soft-hearted man with a smirk that could charm the devil. He still pouted from time to time. 

 

And so they sat, staring at each other. Maybe Baekhyun had already died, and this was his reward for not murdering anyone in his lifetime. Jongin’s slightly flushed face, his warm eyes, really really soft-looking lips … not so bad, heaven, not so bad. Or maybe this was hell, where he was doomed to look at what he couldn’t touch.

 

“I’ll tell your mom that it was you who broke her closet’s door because you were swinging on it!”

 

“I already told her the truth!” Jongdae said, scratching the back of his neck. He scratched the back of his neck when he lied.

 

Kyungsoo saw it. He had come back to the room. Something was sizzling in the kitchen, Baekhyun hoped it wouldn’t get burned.

 

“Liar,” he spat.

 

“Fine, but I already blamed Junmyeon hyung for that, no need to bother my mom with it.”

 

“I think she would think otherwise,”

 

“Then I think your grandma deserves to know you broke her favorite shoes!”

 

“I was in a rush!”

 

“You were too lazy to put on your own shoes,” Jongdae laughed. “I wonder what someone who has worked for sixty years will think of that, huh ?”

 

“You wouldn’t,” Kyungsoo said, horrified. 

 

“I would, I’m the , remember?”

 

Kyungsoo snorted loudly. “At least you know what you are,”

 

It was odd, watching Kyungsoo and Jongdae scream at each other, especially when Jongdae was still waddling around to follow the rotating fan, with his (thankfully, covered by his underwear) sticking out of his shorts.

 

“Stop blocking the fan,” Baekhyun tried weakly, sighed, then gave up, his head thudding against the wall. He did not have energy for this .

 

“You had your parents wipe your until the fourth grade!” Kyungsoo said thriumpanthly.

 

Jongin made a horrified little sound, Baekhyun just laughed weakly. He was going to die any second now, and one of the last thoughts in his head was going to be about Jongdae getting his wiped.

 

“You practiced kissing with an apple!”

 

“Whaaaat?” Jongin whispered. “Did you know about that?”

 

“Yeah, I caught him a few times. Once it was the back of his hand,”

 

“You tried on your sister’s underwear!”

 

“It was a brand new one and she never wore it ‘cause I threw it away!”

 

“So you STOLE !” Kyungsoo’s inhale of shock was greatly mocking and exaggerated. 

 

“I was curious! Speaking of curiosity, who stole a pad from a girl’s backpack and ran away with it in sixth grade? Hmm?”

 

“This is too much information,” Jongin groaned. “And I thought Kyungsoo was a cool person, not Jongdae, but Kyungsoo? Stealing a pad? Whoaaaaa ...”

 

“I don’t know if this counts as stealing but I took some from mom’s drawer,” Baekhyun admitted softly. It was always easy to talk to Jongin. He listened, he didn’t judge, and he was always more forgiving and positive than one would usually be about themselves. “I didn’t know what it was, but I remember thinking that it was pretty, you know? And it had a sticky side, so I stuck it all over the walls. Mom came home in the evening and laughed so hard,”

 

“Well, pads were never a mystery to me,” Jongin said with a lazy smile, eyes closed. “I always knew what they were. My sister never kept anything from me. I knew what period was, how wax strips were used. I used to ask my sister if I could pull it off her legs but she wouldn’t let me ‘cause she thought I wouldn’t do it well and just waste it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun closed his eyes, too, “you’re good like that,”

 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, to melt to his death next to Jongin. Maybe he was imagining, but he felt like some breeze was coming in through the window, circling around his legs, soothing and apologetic. Even Jongdae and Kyungsoo’s shouts were turning into a white noise, along with the traffic outside.

 

“Did you know, huh?” Jongdae was saying, “Did you know that I knew that you wrote a love letter?”

 

“Wha-what?” Kyungsoo spluttered, “Who told you that? Was it Baek — it was Baekhyun wasn’t it?”

 

The evening approached. For him, the last. Baekhyun knew. Maybe he should open his eyes. See the light for the last time. Look at Jongin, appreciate his beauty for one last time.

 

“Of course it was him! Yeah, that’s right, we talk about you all the time.”

 

If Baekhyun survived Kyungsoo killing him, and if he had the energy to get up and do one last thing, he would kill Jongdae.

 

“We talk about you all the time, too!” Kyungsoo scoffed. “I know you had a crush on an animated fox —”

 

“Jongin!” Jongdae shot a furious look at the said one, who pouted and put his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder, rubbing it in like he could hide. Underneath him, Baekhyun froze.

 

“And I heard Soojung you made you laugh so hard you peed a little!”

 

“That-that was the opposite! I made Soojung pee! Wait, that came out wrong,”

 

“It’s because you talk out of YOUR ! Can’t believe Seulgi had a crush on you,”

 

“What?”

 

“Years ago, in high school,” Kyungsoo waved his hand dismissively. “If your head came out of your head at least once, you would have noticed that Joy had a thing for you, too. Two years ago,”

 

“What the ?” Jongdae was so shocked that he forgot to follow the fan’s rotation routine.

 

“They made it so obvious, too,” Baekhyun added. “How you never noticed, I’ll never understand.”

 

“It’s because he listens and sees the world through his ,”

 

“Stop saying ,” Jongdae growled. “Leave my alone.”

 

Baekhyun wondered how his life would have turned out if he hadn’t met Jongdae or Kyungsoo, or both of them. Less broken bones, far less shattered dreams and hopes, no gathering in the manhwa store, eating snacks and reading all day, no fighting with an arcade machine and getting kicked out. How peaceful his life would have been, if he didn’t need to wait for Jongdae as he uselessly and seriously pondered over what to get for lunch from a convenience store, even though he always got his usual cup of noodles, triangle kimbap and cola zero.

 

“You know what?” Kyungsoo said, “I’m gonna go after your harder,”

 

And then there was Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo, who used a stapler on Baekhyun’s finger out of curiosity. Kyungsoo, who told the same jokes over and over again with a stone face until you forced out a laugh. Kyungsoo, who never let you copy his homework because he was a like that, and had the nerve to defend himself by saying ‘how will you learn?’, by copying , you jerk. Kyungsoo, who would never ever steal anything from anyone — except from the rich riches — but would shamelessly and openly steal a book from you. He still hadn’t given back Baekhyun’s copy of the first three volumes of One Piece, which he had “borrowed” more than ten years ago.

 

If Jongdae and Kyungsoo were going off each other today, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad

 

“Jongin came to me first for o!” Jongdae’s voice cut through Baekhyn’s heart like how an ax would through a twig. 

 

What?

 

“Jongin comes to me for music ,”

 

“Baekhyun trusted me with his dog!”

 

“Baekhyun trusted me with a key!”

 

Jongin was oddly quiet next to him. Baekhyun knew he wasn’t asleep, because Jongin’s chest was heaving up and down way too fast.

 

“I know all of Jongin’s allergies,”

 

“He only has one!”

 

“Baekhyun didn’t learn how to tie his shoes until he was in middle school!”

 

. Jongin did not need to know that.

 

“Baekhyun had a hedgehog!”

 

“Of course I know about Tiny , I was even at her funeral!”

 

“What? Why wasn’t I?” Jongdae said.

 

Baekhyun opened his eyes. Jongdae was looking at him like Baekhyun had kept a secret baby. “You were sick,”

 

“Oh, okay,”

 

Kyungsoo cleared his throat. “Jongin doesn’t like fishnets,”

 

“Baekhyun’s afraid of high heels,”

 

“Jongin can’t even keep a cactus alive,”

 

When had this become a contest to see which one of them knew their friends better? They were just casually and happily and freely spitting out random facts about him and Jongin, as if they weren’t right there , sitting and listening and harboring murderous plans. Not that those plans would ever see the light of the day. Baekhyun gulped the last bit of his cola zero, and now the glass was truly full empty — just like his future.

 

“Jongin likes Baekhyun and I knew it for years!” that was Jongdae,

 

“Baekhyun likes Jongin, and Jongin came to me, too, so you’re not special!” that was Kyungsoo.

 

The cicadas stopped crying. The sun fell off. The earth stopped spinning. And Baekhyun’s eyes snapped open.

 

Jongdae and Kyungsoo were, finally, silent. They stared at him, eye pupils shaking all over. Good.

 

“Food,” Kyungsoo said gently. “Food. Baek, I’ll — food, yes … nutrition,” he left the room.

 

Jongdae followed him right after. “Yes, the children. Think of the children.”

 

Baekhyun stared at the wall. His back and his hands suddenly felt very cold. He would deal with them later. Right now he had someone far more important to talk to.

 

“Hyung?” Jongin his lips nervously before chewing on it. He looked worried, maybe even a bit scared, and seeing that was harder than anything he had to endure today. Because Jongin should not be worried, and he should never be scared, especially not when it comes to Baekhyun. 

 

If needed, he would blame the sun. The heat. The global warming. Every single other living person on earth would take the blame for what he did. But his fingers reached out calmly, with no fear, and took a hold of Jongin’s left hand which was on the floor between them.

 

Jongin’s eyes widened just a bit, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, there was a hint of smile, a (pleased) surprise on his face. He his lips again, eyes darting all over, and he had never looked so delicious. 

 

“For how long?” Baekhyun asked.

 

“Ever since I was sixteen,” Jongin said. Then he fidgeted on his seat, and took a deep breath before saying, “You?”

 

“The day you turned twenty,” Baekhyun said. “It was right after the party. I was out on the balcony, watching the cars on the bridge, and you came out with all the flower decorations from your cake because you knew how much I loved them. And I …” Baekhyun gave a shaky little chuckle. “I just couldn’t stop looking at you. I hadn’t realized just how much you had grown until that night, you know?”

 

“Oh,”

 

“Yeah,”

 

“Why didn’t you … were you ever going to tell me?”

 

“I didn’t know you liked me, obviously. And I didn’t want to risk losing you — you were always important to me even before I … developed romantic feelings, but I think, yeah, I would have told you. I mean, it almost came out a few times. It was just a matter of time before I exploded,”

 

“When?” Jongin asked eagerly. “When did it almost come out?”

 

“When you got stuck on the conclusion of your essay that one time and kept mumbling ‘conclusion, conclusion, conclusion’ over and over again? In Minseok hyung’s kitchen?”

 

“Really? What-what else?”

 

“Well,” Baekhyun played with the tips of Jongin’s fingers. “Remember when I gave you that creepy mystery book? The one with the ‘I hate George Clooney thing?’”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“And you spent the whole night reading it one go, and I found you in Minseok hyung’s kitchen in the morning, which was right where I left you when I went to bed. You were just sitting there, with two cups in front of you and a bunch of chocolate wraps.”

 

“Wow, I-I don’t know what to say,” Jongin looked around the room for a moment before looking down at their hands again. “We spent a lot of time at Minseok hyung’s place,”

 

“Yeah, he should have charged us,”

 

“Yeah,”

 

“So, have you ever had moments like that?”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“When?”

 

Jongin locked their fingers together before looking at him. “All the time. Everyday.”

 

The sun was on him again, but this time it was a hug instead of attempting to smother him with a pillow. The cicadas were no longer crying or screaming or generally being annoying, but it was the sound of life. 

 

They both jumped as something heavy and metallic fell on the floor in the kitchen. Kyungsoo cursed, as Jongdae shushed him loudly. 

 

”We’re going to get kicked out,” Jongin said, but he was smiling now. He looked down at their hands shyly and looked up at Baekhyun again. He kept doing that, and Baekhyun's brain registered it, even though it was dead. It had been dead since the temperature outside reached thirty-five degrees, but this was Jongin. He gulped. He was going to say it. He had to. He wanted to. Because, hell, if this was going where he thought it was, then … it was everything . 

 

“Look, look, STOP THAT FOR JUST A SECOND, YOU IDIOT!” Jongdae hollered, “THEY’RE HOLDING HANDS!”

 

“What? Who?” Kyungsoo and Jongdae were back in the living room. “What?”

 

“Who else, my dear moron, Baek and Jongin! Look!”

 

“Oh, God — I mean thank God, he’s not gonna kill us,”

 

An asteroid would have been easier to deal with. Kyungsoo and Jongdae both looked down at them. Jongdae’s shorts were still halfway down, and he and Kyungsoo both had a matching, -eating grin.

 

Ever so gently, Jongin gave his hand a quick squeeze before bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of his fingers.

 

“Well, ing finally,” Jongdae fake-sobbed. “All my suffering is over. If I had to listen to one more word from Jongin about how perfect Baekhyun was, I swear I was ready to just end it all,”

 

“You don’t know suffering,” Kyungsoo said. “Every time Baekhyun opened his mouth, it was Jongin this and Jongin that. Golden heart, able abs —”

 

Baekhyun closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. This was it. Now was the time to unleash his power of cracking a hole in the ground and die in it.

 

“You think my abs are able?” Jongin said, he sounded lost but hopeful. Baekhyun gave the tiniest nod.

 

Jongdae and Kyungsoo laughed like they had just found out they were to inherit some billionaire’s fortune.

 

“I’m so glad I got my own place,” Junmyeon said, it was his first words for the first time in an hour, at least. “Found Jongdae’s hairpin,” he threw the tiny thing at Jongdae. “You can use your air conditioner now, see?”

 

It was working. The air conditioner was working. Tall and dependant, it stood in the corner of the living as their home’s sole guardian, dependable and loved. Gone was the weird noise it kept making because of nasty Jongdae’s stupid hairpin, threatening to break, to collapse, to die and leave them alone. And so gone was the suffocating air of the room, now it was cool and cheerful, and it was the best day ever.

 

“Awesome, we can have lunch now,” Kyungsoo clapped his hands happily. Let’s eat in here — Jongdae come, help me.”

 

The doorbell rang.

 

“I’ll get it,” Junmyeon smiled at Baekhyun and Jongin before grabbing his wallet. “Were you expecting a delivery?”

 

“Just some drinks,” Jongdae said from the kitchen. “Prepaid! Wow, that was fast…”

 

“Got it!”

 

So it was just the two of them again. Sitting on the floor and holding hands, grinning and looking away, only to look back and then look away again.

 

“Wanna go and wash away the sweat before we eat?”

 

“Was just gonna say it,”

 

Baekhyun splashed his face with cold water until he had water dripping from down his arms to the floor, with each splash he felt himself being reborn, part by part.

 

Jongin liked him.

 

Jongin liked him till he was sixteen.

 

Jongin still liked him and just a minute ago they were holding hands.

 

Jongin kissed his hand.

 

Jongin.

 

So this was their start. On one hell of a hot day on August, thanks to Do Kyungsoo and Kim Jongdae’s lifelong hatred for each other, unrivaled pettiness by anyone except themselves, and their shared love for banter, he and Jongin had — albeit forcefully — discovered each other’s feelings.

 

Jongin was waiting for him outside the bathroom. He had — such a shame — put on a t-shirt, a white one with a sleeping Pink Panther picture on.

 

Without a word, Baekhyun held out his hand and a relief went through Jongin’s face. He took his hand and pulled him closer.

 

“Hyung, can I —”

 

“You wanna kiss?”

 

“Yes,”

 

“Come here,”

 

Jongin leaned down, his arms wrapping around Baekhyun’s waist, and he kissed him. Once. Twice. Gently, softly. And then one more, this one with a bit more pressure.

 

“Hi,” Baekhyun pulled away, but just a tiny bit. His one hand on Jongin’s cheek, the other on his chest.

 

“Hi,”

 

They kissed again, and this one wasn’t a brief one, no, no, this one was more open. This one had electric jolting through Baekhyun’s body. This one took his breath and told him he didn’t need it.

 

“I will eat your food if you don’t get here in time!”

 

Oh, the nerve of Kim Jongdae.

 

Jongin giggled and kissed him once more. “We’ll eat and then we can go to my room? Or to yours? Or go out?”

 

“We’ll make out in your room, and then we’ll make out more in my room,” Baekhyun offered. “And then in the evening, when it’s nice and cool, we’ll go out and make out during the movie?”

 

“Sounds good,”

 

It really did. And so they made their way to the living room — holding hands — where Kyungsoo was hitting the table with his spoon, urging them to get there faster.

 

 

 

 

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I went out for a long walk. I had healthy food all day. I got plenty of sunlight. I read a book and cleaned and kept myself busy, and all I got is a headache. Why.