He was going to tell Seungho eventually. Really. He was. He swore. Which was how he found himself outside his door for the third time that evening, hand curled into a knocking fist—only, no knocking was taking place.

Two days had passed since the Cafe Incident. The day after at school had been somewhat of a nightmare. People "accidentally" bumped into him left and right, and the struggle to choke down his temper had him almost exploding by the time he was walking off campus. He hadn't even bothered going to the cafe because he knew he'd do something stupid again if someone provoked him.

It brought back memories from one of his old schools . . . He'd been kicked off the football team for "inappropriate conduct" after going a round with one of the co-captains.

In his defense, they started it. If there was anything his parents taught him, it was to finish whatever he was involved in. And he certainly was involved there.

One thing he regretted was not going to Ravi's house. Hongbin messaged him about it, but he explained that he wasn't feeling well—which wasn't a lie. A few days into having a sniffling pink nose, he was expecting his body to betray him any time now with a cold. The crappy part was, he actually wanted to go. He wanted to be there, around them—around Ravi. They made him feel . . . good.

He stared dismally at the turquoise paint of Seungho's door. He really needed to do this. He owed complete honesty to Seungho—yet, he couldn't bring himself to knock.

He groaned under this breath.

"Hey."

A familiar voice he'd secretly been wanting to hear came from off to the side. Dressed in a black, woolen long coat and tattered jeans that were rolled up passed his ankles was Ravi walking forward. The whole look was handsome and Taekwoon blushed because it was the first thought that popped into his head. He turned away.

"Don't ignore me." There was a playful frown in Ravi's voice. "I'm not a ghost y'know."

"Aren't you cold?" Taekwoon asked, walking to his own apartment door. Seungho would have to wait. He needed more courage. "Why're you here?"

Ravi came up next to him as he opened the door, clearly inviting himself in—not that Taekwoon would stop him at this point. "Can't a guy visit his friend?"

His words tinted a little more red onto Taekwoon's cheeks. He closed the door behind them.

"Sorry I didn't come over . . ." he mumbled, walking into the kitchen.

Ravi shrugged. "s'Okay. Hongbin told me you were feeling ty." he replied. "Actually . . . That's kinda why I came over? But I didn't know if you were feeling okay enough to walk."

Taekwoon looked over the counter, awe rinsing his mind. Hongbin or someone could've just as easily messaged him to come over, but Ravi decided to visit him and ask face to face. Such a small thing left him flattered beyond all reason.

"You don't have to though," Ravi quickly changed, shifting self-consciously.

Something Taekwoon had come to notice often about Ravi was those brief and random moments of cuteness he had. They usually happened when he tripped over his words or tried to get his thoughts out too fast, or when he was caught off guard. He wanted to tell him sometimes, about how cute he could be, but that embarrassed himself.

He took a deep, calming breath. "I want to go."

Ravi's face lit up with all the subtlety of an explosion.

Besides, it would help get his mind of things for a while.

Ravi had ridden to his apartment on a bike, so it didn't take long for them to get back to his house. Almost none of the lights in the windows were on, and Ravi explained that both Hongbin and Yongguk were working. Apparently Ken was starting to plan his new semester project and "was not to be bothered", and Hyuk was asleep because he had to wake up early the next day. It would be only the two of them.

Right after they'd to his street, Ravi made another sharp turn and Taekwoon's arms tightened around his waist. Plants overran the scraggly concrete of the alleyway they rode down until they came to a slow stop at a high wooden fence. It led to the house's backyard.

Ravi put up the bike and then led him through the vast backyard to the inside of the house. Taekwoon couldn't help watching all of his moves, from the way his fingers grabbed the door knob to the way he turned and held open the door to let Taekwoon in first.

"Are you hungry or something?" Ravi asked from behind him, taking off his coat.

Taekwoon shook his head, hands curling into his sleeves. His stomach was knotted too much for food; he wasn't sure he could keep anything down at the moment. Ravi opened the fridge to get himself something out. The silence turned awkward, but Ravi laughed.

"I know I invited you over and all, but I don't even know what to do." he said, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Taekwoon wrapped his arms around himself and turned. "I want to lay down . . ." he mumbled.

"What's that?"

Self-consciousness muffled his voice even more. "N-Nevermi—"

"You said you wanna lay down?"

Heat soaked his face. He wished he wouldn't have opened his dumb mouth.

". . . Can I lay down with you?"

He automatically buried his face into his palms. Ravi laughed again, but then it died when Taekwoon meekly nodded.

". . . Oh . . ."

For a moment, Taekwoon thought Ravi would play it off and pretend like neither of them ever said anything—which would have been completely fine with him—but then he placed gentle hands on Taekwoon's shoulders and playfully began steering him towards the stairs.

Taekwoon felt like he'd just dug his own grave.

By the time they'd gotten to the final staircase, Ravi was all but having to lug him forward, struggling and laughing all the way through. Taekwoon knew he was being a pain and didn't mean to, but his reluctance was piling on itself with every step they took forward.

"Hyung, you really gotta help me out here. The staircase is too skinny for me to carry you up there."

Steam practically blew from Taekwoon's ears at the thought of Ravi holding him. "I got it, I got it." he said quickly, standing up right. He was such a dummy.

He began to climb, but swore he heard Ravi said, "I wouldna minded carrying you . . ." Just to save himself from totally overheating, he was going to pretend he hadn't heard it at all.

At the foot of Ravi's bed, he listened to its owner's footsteps trail him. The furniture once again reflected a deathtrap in his eyes—a very fluffy, heavenly deathtrap.

"Still wanna lay down?" Ravi asked, a little too carefully.

Taekwoon inaudibly sighed, wishing he wouldn't act so ridiculous. He made his bed, and now he needed to lay in it. Well. Lay in Ravi's. Whatever.

He pulled off his duffel jacket and hung it over the back of the desk chair, and then turned to the bed. Heavy deliberation was in his steps over to it and he gingerly sat down, as if the bed might explode any second.

When he looked up, he saw Ravi's eyes glittering with amusement.

"Don't just stand there . . ." he muttered, scowling to mask his embarrassment.

Ravi began to walk and Taekwoon flopped back, squeezing his eyes closed. The bed shifted under him with Ravi's weight and his stomach flipped.

"Do you like my bed that much?" Ravi asked.

Taekwoon groaned and rolled over. "It's better than mine . . ."

"I've never seen your bed."

"It's nothing much." he said, and meant that. It was cold, just like the rest of that apartment. He rolled over again, eyes on the ceiling. Ravi laid back. "Hey. Ravi." He looked at him. "Is Ravi your real name?"

He didn't miss the momentary stillness. "It's not." he replied tonelessly.

"How come you gave me a nickname?"

Ravi laughed, but it wasn't like before; this was almost uneasy and strained. "You super chatty suddenly."

It was Taekwoon's turn to stiffen a second. Ravi sounded . . . defensive. Almost like his curiosity was offensive and crossing the line. He laid one arm over his eyes, the tips of his ears reddening.

"I just . . ." he tried, in need of words. "I don't know a lot about you . . ."

Ravi hummed uncomfortably. "Sorry." he muttered. It was unusual to hear him so disheartened.

Sorry wasn't enou—"You kissed me." Taekwoon said, trying not to let agitation take an edge on his voice. "You kissed me, and . . . I don't know anything about you. You don't know anything about me."

"I know you like football. And eating. And you're super competitive. You get shy real easy, and your brain fries just as easy too."

Suddenly, Taekwoon sat up and turned to him. Ravi wasn't trying to irritate him on purpose, he knew that—but that was exactly what was happening.

"Okay," he half-huffed, "you know some things about me. That's . . ." He glanced to the soft duvet. "That's not the point."

His skin was uncomfortably tight and he was strung up. In fact, his stress was reaching peak levels at this point—and he had come to Ravi's house to find some kind of peace, but maybe that was a mistake.

Ravi blinked at him in confusion.

Friends didn't have to know everything about each other, okay, he understood that, but Ravi? He didn't know a single thing about him. Everything he'd learned so far? That was from other people.

". . . Let's . . . Let's take it slow." Ravi offered. He could sense Taekwoon getting a little too stupidly upset. "I'm kinda scared to ask, but," he chuckled nervously, "what do you think about me?"

Taekwoon blinked owlishly at him and then his teeth began to worry at his bottom lip. What did he know about the boy named Ravi?

"I . . . know you paint." he began slowly, deliberately. "I know you go to a fine arts school with Ken. That your real name isn't Ravi. That you're good at football. I know you get into fights—" Ravi seemed to want to open his mouth at the moment, but Taekwoon pressed forward. "I think . . . you're scared of me, for some reason. I think that you like me, somehow. Don't you?"

There wasn't an immediate response. Taekwoon eyed Ravi for so long that second-hand embarrassment wormed its way into his veins. Ravi stared back at him with a hint of challenge in his eyes, but it wasn't hostile.

They were genuinely at odds.

"I've never heard you talk so much at once before." was all Ravi said at first, and Taekwoon raised his eyebrows. An endeared light shone in Ravi's eyes so brightly that he had to look away, embarrassed for it being pointed out. He did talk . . . Ravi did ask. He began to pick at the bed's duvet. "How come I'm scared of you?"

Taekwoon didn't immediately look back up. Truthfully, he pulled that one from the air, but now that it was laid out before them, he realized that there was a certain kind of . . . Not fear, but hesitance to Ravi—even though he did a magnificent job at masking it behind his charm. Taekwoon figured it related to why he didn't know his real name, why he wouldn't tell his real name.

Ravi didn't want him to get close.

Involuntarily, his eyes widened. It was like being kicked in the shin—and unconsciously, Taekwoon leaned away. His hands braced against the bed like he was about to get off.

"Hyung?" Ravi asked cautiously.

Taekwoon's teeth kneaded at his lower lip again. He wasn't sure he should try to poke around Ravi's personal self . . . It left him conflicted. He wanted—needed to know more.

Ravi sighed patiently and then his lips pulled into a sympathetic crooked grin. "I promise I won't eat you?" he joked, and just like that, the tense atmosphere dissolved.

Taekwoon flopped back onto the bed and buried his face into the sheets to gather himself again. He breathed deeply and then peeked out one eye.

"Let's just . . . lay here." He didn't have the energy for anything else.

A moment went by and then the bed shifted with Ravi's weight. He settled down just close enough that their fingers could touch if they wanted, and Taekwoon eyed his. His own curled at the thought of linking them because he needed some restraint; he glanced to Ravi, who watched him.

"Your hands would look great playing an instrument." Ravi suddenly said. Shyness had Taekwoon hiding his hand under his chest. "Like . . . Like a flute or something? A violin. Oh, I know, a cello—No, no wait, I got it . . . A piano."

Memories of childhood piano lessons gone through stubbornly flashed through Taekwoon's mind and a smiled twitched his lips. "I used to play when I was younger." In fact, he was pretty sure there was a keyboard in one of the unpacked big boxes from the spare room.

Ravi snapped his fingers. "Nice, I love being right." he grinned. "Do you still know how?"

Taekwoon minutely shook his head. "It's been a long time . . ." He'd moved around so much over the last six or seven years that there never seemed to be time. "Have you ever played anything?"

It was sort of off-putting that Ravi learned more about him when the opposite wasn't true. He almost thought there would be no reply, or that the conversation would be deflected.

Ravi shrugged as much as laying on his stomach would let him. "I sorta know my way around a keyboard, but nothing serious. I, uh, help out the musicians at my school sometimes and I can mix a pretty good beat, but painting's always been my big thing." he explained. His eyes twinkled. "But if you ever can, I'd like to hear you play."

The words fluttered Taekwoon's heart. It beat strong against his curled hand. "Maybe . . ." he mumbled. He didn't want to admit it was a little flattering that Ravi actually took an interest. ". . . If I do, I want to watch you paint."

That took Ravi by surprise, and another moment went by that Taekwoon thought he'd reject it; his eyes flickered down to the duvet but then curved a little. "Alright. It's a deal—your playing for my painting."

There'd be no admitting it, but the rest of the time they lay just inches apart, thoughts of Ravi kissing him again wouldn't leave his head.

Even though Taekwoon promised he could make it home by himself, Ravi insisted giving a ride back on his bike. The trip was quiet, but not awkward like it might have been weeks back. Ravi still never explained why he kissed him and he wasn't optimistic about trying to bring it up again. It wasn't comforting how it seemed to be an avoided topic.

Not long passed before they pulled up to the entrance of Taekwoon's apartment complex. He punched in the code and they rode all the way to his stairs. He got off the bike and turned to Ravi, shuffling his feet.

"Thanks . . ."

Ravi cocked his head with a half-grin. "For what?"

Taekwoon fidgeted with his fingers. "For letting me stay over . . . and use your bed . . . and all that."

Ravi chuckled. "You really don't gotta thank me. I like it when you come over." he said earnestly, coloring Taekwoon's cheeks. "Pretty please, hyung?" His eyelashes batted jokingly.

"Alright, alright." Taekwoon hurried out. Surely Ravi trying to be cute would be the end of him. "I'll try to come back soon."

How Ravi's face brightened made Taekwoon mumble out a quick reply, telling him to be careful, and hurrying up the stairs.

He strode over to his apartment, only to pause at Seungho's door. Being with Ravi had completely distracted him from the serious matter at hand. Was Seungho going to find out what he did at the cafe? And that kid whose face he busted up . . . Did he tell his parents? Did the school know? Surely Seungho would've come to him already if something came up. Taekwoon wasn't eager about pressing his luck.

He wanted to tell Seungho, he really did. Would . . . Would Seungho be disappointed in him? The thought sunk his heart. He couldn't be disappointing every adult in his life . . . Yixing wouldn't be happy if he kept it a secret.

A deep breath expanded his lungs. Moments of hard thought passed before Taekwoon shook his head and continued to his own door. Unlocking it, he glanced one more time at Seungho's. If he came to him first, he would tell him.

Otherwise, it could stay a secret.