jongdae doesn’t wear insoles.

                when he laces his muddy converse shoes he thinks back to when he used to, when he stood a little taller in the world without straightening his back.

                “do you mind being short?” is one of the earlier questions he remembers zitao asking him, standing in line at a chain café in shanghai.

                “do you mind being tall?” jongdae had raised an eyebrow, massaging numb fingers into the cardboard cozy fitted over his starbucks coffee.

                he gets a delayed reply when zitao knocks his head into the low opening to jongdae’s apartment. “i mind not fitting into places i would like to be,” zitao pouts, hunched in a doorway he still hates walking through three months later.

                for their third date jongdae takes zitao to a movie. he had taken suggestions, not really knowing what kind of film zitao would like.

                jongdae eyes the movie poster as they enter, blinking at the overdone concept of romantic comedies, but humoring the other nonetheless.

                “i can’t see,” jongdae sighs, seated behind a tall woman and her friend. no obnoxious chitchat or long phone calls exchanged; she is simply just too tall for jongdae to see the screen. to his surprise there are no empty spots for two in the theatre, all occupied by romantics and their partners.

                “do you want to trade seats?” zitao suggests, and they switch, dropping a few buttery clusters of popcorn to the floor.

                jongdae can see over the woman’s friend, but when he looks at zitao to thank him, zitao is casting forlorn glances at fallen popcorn smashed unknowingly under his heels.

                it’s a face jongdae gets well acquainted with in the last twenty minutes of the movie.

                zitao has attached himself to jongdae’s sleeve, sniffling into his shoulder. his face is puffy and welling with tears as the lead rolls kiss, confessing their undying devotion for each other or something of the sort. jongdae thinks he kinds of looks like a squirrel with his cheeks stuffed of nuts, fingers pulling at the stretching fabric of jongdae’s favorite hoodie. of course he doesn’t mind, and of course he pats zitao’s head and smiles when a muffled, “that’s so sweet,” is whispered into his arm.

                the fourth date is not nearly as messy, but perhaps as cheesy, jongdae shrugs. zitao thought a nice little dinner in a restaurant tucked away in a corner of the city would be a good atmosphere, and jongdae complies because even though they haven’t been dating long he’s grown rather fond of the boy who cries when other people kiss.

                he likes the subtle, crooked smile zitao gives him when they end the night at jongdae’s apartment, zitao leaning against the doorway.

                jongdae feels tall enough to kiss zitao, and brave enough. his nose bumps ever so slightly against the top of zitao’s when he kisses him, and zitao giggles in that endearingly high pitched tone as his back arches in the cramped outline of a home.

                zitao kisses him a lot more, jongdae takes him for lot of movies. neither can count the amount of dates on one hand, or even two.

                jongdae doesn’t put in insoles one day. the reason why he can’t remember.

                when zitao stands in his doorway, jongdae can’t reach from the ground. zitao his head like a lost puppy.

                “too short,” jongdae mumbles, gesturing embarrassedly with his fingers for zitao to lean down more. he stands on the tips of his feet, and his lips comfortingly find zitao’s.

                “you’re the perfect height, i think,” zitao smiles into the kiss.

                and jongdae doesn’t wear insoles anymore, because although he would never admit it, he kind of likes having to stand on the tips of his toes to kiss a certain taller someone.