Sehun sometimes has to sit back and acknowledge the fact that his friends are little s.

 

The bright, fluorescent lights of the cafe are doing nothing to help the already blinding displays of affection in front of him.

 

I mean, having a group of ten close friends could be considered fun, but it's mostly awkward due to the fact that half of them are dating each other, and the other half have mutual crushes that they won't shut up about.

 

Sehun wonders why he even hangs out with them for the thousandth time that week when he sees Chanyeol and Baekhyun snuggling up together across the table.

 

He clears his throat, coughing “PDA,” into his hand. Chanyeol and Baekhyun look up with flushed, sheepish faces.

 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol grins impishly and removes his head from Baekhyun's shoulder. “I know how you're touchy about being single and all.”

 

“I'm not touchy..” Sehun grumbles. “It's just a little disheartening when all of your friends are either dating each other or making googly eyes at each other 24/7. I'm like an eleventh wheel.”

 

Speaking of googly eyes, he turns his head to find Jongin staring wistfully across the table yet again. He subtly kicks him under the table. Or maybe not so subtly, seeing as Jongin winces and turns to glare at him.

“Yes?”

 

“You're doing it again.”

 

Jongin sighs. “You know I can't help it... he's just so...” he struggled to find the words.

 

Sehun waves his hand dismissively. “I probably wouldn't get it anyway, I'm not into guys.”

 

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Dude, you keep saying that, but you're literally the gayest person I know. And all your friends are gay, so that's gotta be saying something.”

 

Sehun kicks him again until Jongin shrugs and turns his head to the other side of the table again.

Leaning back, Sehun surveys the table.

 

Baekhyun and Chanyeol, Yixing and Luhan, Kyungsoo, Jongdae, Jongin, and Minseok.

 

“Too bad Wufan and Joonmyun couldn't make it,” he says, partially to himself. He doesn't know if anyone ever listens to him anyway.

 

Jongdae snickers. “They're having a little 'mommy and daddy time',”

 

“Don't remind me,” Sehun groans.

 

“Hey, you brought it up,” Jongdae defends, grinning as usual.

 

Sehun often wonders what it is about Minseok that Jongdae likes. Jongdae is loud, almost obnoxiously so, and Minseok is pretty normal, and usually quiet. Opposites attract, he guesses.

He's shaken out of his thoughts when the waiter cautiously approaches the table. Sehun supposes he has a reason for being cautious – a group of nine or so rambunctious twenty year old could potentially be a handful.

 

The waiter stands in front of the table, seeming to want to wait until everyone is quiet and has acknowledged his presence, and Sehun bites back a laugh; that's not going to happen anytime soon, knowing his friends.

 

He runs a shaky hand though his jet black hair, brushing the bangs away from his face and revealing a set of piercings on his ears. Sehun has a better look at his eyes – the bags underneath are heavy and defined. But they don't look bad; they actually look nice on his face. Sehun guesses he's chinese, his suspicions confirmed when he finally says, “Um. Hello?” in a slight accent.

 

“Guys!” Sehun shouts, finally deciding to help him out. He gestures to the head of the table where the waiter is standing when eyes turn toward him.

 

“Hello, I'm Zitao. I will be your waiter. May I take your orders?”

 

His korean is great, Sehun notes. If not for the accent he would've guessed he was born and raised here in Korea. But it's not bad at all, and the accent makes his voice sound almost musical. That's why, when it's Sehun's turn to order, he asks,

 

“What flavors of pound cake do you have?” even though he already knows.

 

The waiter fumbles around with the notebook in his hand for a second, flipping pages. Sehun guesses he's new.

 

“Um, we have chocolate, vanilla, and lemon.”

 

Sehun closes his eyes and lets his voice, deep with a touch of femininity, and that accent, roll through his mind.

 

“I'll have lemon.”

 

He opens his eyes to see the waiter smile at him and jot it down, before moving on the next person.

It's after he leaves that Jongin nudges him and says, “Dude, did you see that? He was totally eyeing you.”

 

“...What?” Sehun looks at him in confusion, but the others nod in agreement, grinning wildly.

 

“You sure you're not gay, Sehunnie? This could be your chance,” Jongdae pokes him with his fork from two seats away. Sehun scowls at the pet name.

 

“He definitely wasn't looking at me, shut up, guys.”

 

The rest of the meal passes quickly, in a whirlwind of coffee and cake and endless teasing. Sehun wonders why they chose this little cafe to eat – it doesn't serve any real food, and it's not like any of them need any more sugar than they already get. If Joonmyun was here they'd be at the actual restaurant next door for sure.

They shuffle out of the cafe a good three hours after they'd come in – they'd met for a quick lunch, and it was around four o clock by now. They should have known that events are never quick with this group of people, Sehun reflects.

 

They walk slowly back to their dorms, some hand in hand, and some inching towards another's hand, only to shy away at the last second. Sehun walks next to Jongin, listening to him jabber on about some video game he played the night before.

 

“.. so I got to the power up, right?”

 

“Right,” Sehun mumbles.

 

“Yeah, and then you would not believe...”

Sehun lets himself drift away from the conversation. He loves Jongin, he really does, but he has a tendency to ramble on about things no one cares about. Instead, he thinks back to the waiter.

He wasn't bad looking, Sehun mulls. His jaw was nice and defined, skin clear, eyes dark and deep with those bags that added more of a personality somehow. He must be popular with the girls.

 

Unless he's gay, a little voice whispers. Unless everyone was right about him 'eyeing you'

 

He shakes those thoughts away in time to bid goodbye to his friends heading in the opposite direction. Him and Jongin head up the stairs to their shared dorm, and as he's turning the key in the lock, Jongin looks at him at says,

 

“Are you okay, man? You seem a little out of it,”

 

“Yeah.” Sehun mutters, pushing the door open. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

 

- - -

 

Sehun doesn't know what he's doing here.

 

It's been one day since he and his friends had lunch at this cafe, and he's already back the next day, by himself this time.

 

He sits quietly, almost curled up, unused to eating alone. He orders a large bubble tea and sips it quietly, wondering what he keeps looking around the cafe for.

 

Until, about thirty minutes later, he sees the reason.

 

He's staring blankly at the door when the waiter from yesterday walks in, and he promptly yanks his eyes down to his table and stares at the cup in his hand.

 

He lifts one eye up and sees the waiter walk behind the counter, pulling an apron over his head. His hair is blue today, Sehun notices. Very slightly blue, so that one could easily miss it if they weren't looking closely.

 

Not that he had been looking closely.

It's then that Sehun realizes exactly what he's doing, and calls his waitress over to give him the check, which he promptly pays and practically runs out the door.

 

Of course, he's back the next day.

 

Thankfully his class schedule doesn't seem to conflict with the waiter's work schedule. Sehun goes to the cafe two days in a row, showing up at around one o clock, and the waiter comes in not long after that both times.

 

Sehun was only waited on by him once out of the two times, and it was a somewhat stiff exchange, with plenty of awkward eye contact and flushed faces (on Sehun's end, at least). Sehun swears the waiter knows exactly what Sehun has been doing, he can see a glint in his eyes.

 

However, his mind has been doing and seeing a lot of strange things lately. At least Sehun finally learns the waiter's name – his beat up name card reads Zitao.

 

The name rolls through his mind, and off his tongue.

 

Zitao.

 

So that's the name of the man he's been practically stalking.

 

Sehun still doesn't know why he's been doing this – he has almost no reason to. Zitao seems like a cool guy, and he seems like he would make a good friend, but this is no way to go about befriending someone.

 

What is it about him that ties Sehun's tongue and paints his face red?

 

 

- - -

 

There's one factor to the situation that Sehun had forgotten about – the fact that Byun Baekhyun works across the street from the cafe, at the Starbucks with the huge windows. That was the reason they had gone to the cafe in the first place, Sehun recalls, Baekhyun had chosen it simply for convenience. He resists the urge to face palm at his own stupidity when, a few days later, Jongin sidles up to him and says,

 

“Baekhyun told me that he saw you at the cafe... Every day for the past four days in a row.”

 

And Sehun freezes, his face flushing red.

 

“I -” he stammers. “They have good coffee, okay?”

 

Jongin smiles at him knowingly. “You don't even like coffee.”

 

.

 

“Well.. maybe it's because I'd never had their coffee before!” Sehun argues desperately. “This is nothing to do with that waiter,”

 

“I never mentioned the waiter,” Jongin says slowly, an evil grin growing on his face. Sehun groans and buries his face into the pillow.

 

“Not one word. To anyone.” he grumbles into the pillow.

 

Jongin promises, however promises from Jongin are worth less than a sack of air.

 

And Sehun completely forgets about the encounter until the next day, when five out of eleven of the crew is hanging out in Chanyeol and Baekhyun's shared room, and the inevitable is brought up.

 

“So, Sehun,” Baekhyun grins slyly at him from the doorframe. Sehun shrinks away, cursing as he realizes what is about to come.

 

“I noticed that you've been spending a lot of time at the cafe lately.”

 

“...Yeah,” Sehun grudgingly admits. Denying that would only land him in deeper trouble at this rate.

 

“Jongin told me about your little crush,”

 

“You little !”

 

Jongin is already halfway out the door, and Sehun regrets not spending more time exercising as he reaches the hallway stairs only to see Jongin already two flights down.

 

“You're gonna regret this!” he hollers down the stairs.

 

Giving up, he turns around and walks back to the room, right in the middle of Baekhyun explaining the situation to a confused looking Joonmyun.

 

“... and he totally had the hots for him. But I guess, even though he claims to not be gay, hot waiters overcome all. So he's been going to the cafe -”

 

“Shut up, Baekhyun,” Sehun interrupts, going over to the corner to brood. “I'm not gay, anyway. Jongin has it all wrong.”

 

“Aw, Sehun.” Joonmyun smiles comfortingly at him and ruffles his hair. “I knew we'd rub off on you eventually.”

 

Sehun smacks his hand away.

 

“You guys ...” he mutters. “How many times do I have to tell you I'm not gay?”

 

“Sure you're not,” Joonmyun says, and it's the most sarcastic thing Sehun has ever heard him say. He looks guilty after saying it, even.

 

“Sehun, you're practically stalking a guy after we told you he seemed interested in you. If that's not gay, I don't know what is.” Chanyeol adds.

 

Sehun sighs at flops down on the couch, choosing to ignore the comments, even though he's realizing that they may be true. His mind has been filled with images of bagged eyes, and the sounds of a deep, accented voice.

 

- - -

 

Sehun wakes up the next morning with one goal for the day: to not go to the cafe.

 

Of course, this is his one day off. Every other day of the week has at least one class for him to go to, and then homework for the class to finish. But today Sehun is classless and homework-free, which is usually good thing. Except this time, there is nothing to distract him, not even Jongin, who's gone to hang out with Kyungsoo “Alone,” he'd warned when Sehun had tried to tag along.

 

“If they don't end up ing soon they're going to explode with ,” Sehun mumbles to himself, stretched out on his bed.

 

He flips through the channels, tries one of Jongin's video games, reads a page of the book he's been working on for six months now, and finally gets up to check the kitchen. No luck – there's no room for a refrigerator in the tiny kitchen, and the cupboards are empty of snacks except a couple packs of now stale crackers.

 

Ten minutes later, he's standing in front of the cafe, staring through the window at the now familiar blue-themed décor.

 

Of course it would come to this. Sehun wonders why he even tried to stop himself.

 

He pushes the door open, and one of the regular workers smiles at him as he sits down at the table that's he's begun to consider as his table.

 

“Good afternoon, sir!” she immediately comes over to him and hands him a menu, only to be given it right back.

 

“I already know what I want,” Sehun explains. “A medium size bubble tea and a slice of lemon pound cake. Please.”

 

He considers getting coffee briefly; he's tired today, so tired that the bubbly attitude of the waitress almost overwhelms him. But he's always hated coffee, and today is no exception, no matter how tired he is.

 

So he sips his tea quietly, waiting for Zitao to come in.

 

Almost a half hour later, his drink is gone, and Zitao is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it's his day off? Sehun wonders.

 

He waits five more minutes. The waiter behind the counter is looking at him expectantly; it's nearing rush hour for the cafe, the time where all the tables are usually full.

 

Sehun walks to the trash, and then, making a split second decision, turns and walks down the hall toward the bathroom.

 

He stops. There's a familiar voice echoing down the hall – a certain deep, accented voice. Upon closer inspection, he sees that it wasn't just his imagination.

 

Zitao is standing in the back room, (a small almost-closet that's visible through a circular window), pulling off his hoodie to reveal a black muscle shirt, and – those arms. Sehun has to resist the urge to protest when the cafe uniform shirt is pulled on.

 

“..orry I'm late,” Zitao is saying, breathlessly. “I fell asleep in class.”

 

And then it happens.

 

Zitao turns around to grab the red apron hanging on a chair, and their eyes lock. Sehun shrieks and runs out, planning to run straight out the door and never come back, until he realized that he still hadn't paid.

So he sits down, anxiously calling the waitress over for the check as soon as he touches the chair. She glances at him and puts a finger up; she's busy dealing with another customer. Sehun groans and rocks back and forth in his seat, stealing nervous glances toward the entrance to the hallway across the room.

 

Two minutes later, Zitao walks out and over to the waitress.

 

Sehun squirms, and his eyes widen in horror as he sees a vague gesture in his direction.

 

“Oh no,” he whispers.

 

But Zitao is turning around and beginning to walk toward his table.

 

Please pass by me, please pass by me, please pass by me, the mantra runs through Sehun's head.

 

Zitao stops in front of the table. Sehun can't look him in the eye.

 

He takes his time taking the check out of his pocket, carefully setting it down on the table. Sehun grabs it instantly, busying himself with reading the receipt with his head down. Zitao's figure in his peripheral vision doesn't leave.

 

“So,” he starts, finally. “I've been seeing you here a lot.”

 

Sehun wants to crawl under the table and die.

 

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, ducking behind the receipt, sure that his face is flaming red by now.

 

Zitao just laughs, a deep, melodic sound that fills Sehun's ears, and hands him a scrap of paper. Sehun looks down at the phone number scrawled out in loopy handwriting, accompanied by a smiley face.

 

By the time Sehun looks, up Zitao is gone.

 

He pays and walks out of the cafe in a daze, clutching the paper in his hand and stealing glances at the numbers as he shuffles back to his dorm.

 

Jongin is sitting on the couch when he opens the door, and Sehun hurriedly shoves the paper in his pocket before walking into the kitchen.

 

Jongin's eyes are glued on the tv, and Sehun prays that he hadn't seen the paper before he had hidden it. However, as he's opening the refrigerator, Jongin swivels around and asks,

 

“So what was that paper you just tried to hide?”

 

Sehun stiffens with his hand around the handle.

 

.

 

“Nothing.” he tries for breezy nonchalance. “Just a receipt or something.”

 

Jongin has that mischievous look in his eyes, the one that appears whenever he's about to dig some dirt out of Sehun.

 

“Are you sure about that? You seemed pretty scared just now when I asked.”

 

“Yeah!” Sehun inwardly winces at the overly loud response. “I mean, yes I'm sure. It was nothing. Look, I'm throwing it away now.”

 

He takes the paper out of his pocket and watches it flutter into the trash can.

 

It's not like I was going to actually call him anyway... I'm not gay, he thinks. Jongin's eyes narrow suspiciously, but he slowly turns back to the TV and resumes watching.

 

He's halfway to the trash can by the time Sehun has turned back to the refrigerator. Sehun makes a wild grab in his direction, but only reaches for air and Jongin has already dived into the trash can and retrieved the paper.

 

Jongin holds up the paper with one hand, and wrestles Sehun away with the other.

 

“Aha, I knew it couldn't have been just a 'receipt',” he says as he eyes the Zitao and smiley face written on both sides of the phone number. “So you actually got this guy's number. Congrats, dude. I didn't think you had it in you,”

“It's not – I didn't -” Sehun scrambles around, tongue-tied. “He just gave it to me, I didn't ask for it or anything. I'm not gay, I wasn't going to call him anyway.

 

“Suuure you weren't,” Jongin smirks at him. He hands him the paper, saying, “Here you go, now you don't have to pretend it's a receipt.”

 

Sehun snatches it from his hands, shoving it back into his pocket and leaving the room with a scowl.

 

It's later that night, when Jongin has left to go on a date or something with Kyungsoo, that the paper is back out of the pocket, held above his head as Sehun is lying face up on his bed.

 

...Should I call him?

 

He can't deny that is chest feels abnormally tight whenever he's around the waiter, accompanied with an unusually fast heartbeat. And of course the fact that he's unable to stop himself from visiting the cafe.

 

In a split second decision, he pulls out his phone and dials the number with shaking hands.

 

The phone rings two times before a voice, familiar even after being warbled by the phone, is saying,

 

“Hello?”

 

Sehun takes a deep breath, is heart hammering in his chest.

 

“H-hi, my name's Oh Sehun. You gave me your number today at the cafe you work at?”

 

There's a terrible, earth-shattering pause, and then Sehun's ear is filled with rumbling laughter. “Hi, Sehun. I'm happy you called me. I've seen you around the cafe a lot.”

 

“Yeah...” Sehun laughs nervously. “You guys have pretty good bubble tea.”

 

“You know,” Zitao starts with a conspiratorial tone to his voice, “Maybe I'm egotistical, but I've started to think that the bubble tea isn't the only reason you've been coming to the cafe.”

 

Sehun is stunned silent for a few moments, splutters denials for another few moments, and then resigns to a quiet, “Yeah... you might be right.”

 

There's a pause, a few moments charged with tension.

 

“Do you want to get coffee – or anything really, with me sometime?” Sehun hears the words blurt from his mouth before he processes what he's saying.

 

“I thought you'd never ask,” and Zitao's smile is evident even through the phone.

 

So he might be just a little gay.

 

But at least he has a date.

 

. . . . .

 

Sehun and Zitao had planned a coffee outing during Zitao's lunch break at the Starbucks across the street from the cafe. Not exactly the most romantic location, but it's obvious that neither of them were really cut out for romance.

 

Sehun spends most of the morning digging through his closet to find a suitable outfit. Jongin just sits there laughing at his struggling, only pausing for an occasional “I totally saw this coming,” or “Told you you were gay, dude.”

 

Sehun eventually realizes that it's only Starbucks, and even though he wants to make a good impression, he's better off just wearing his usual casual clothes.

 

He heads to the cafe a little earlier than he should have, and tries to no avail to swallow his panic as he arrives to find Zitao still on the job.

 

But Zitao's lips split into a grin once he spots Sehun in the doorway, and he holds up one outstretched hand, mouthing five more minutes.

 

They're soon walking across the street. Sehun stuffs his hands in his pockets for fear of losing self control and grabbing Zitao's hand – it looks so lonely and so soft just hanging there in the cold air. But before he had let the dorm he had determined to keep his dignity throughout this date – well, as much as he could manage.

 

Halfway across the street, his hand weasels it's way out of his pocket and grabs hold of Zitao's

 

So much for dignity.

 

It's worth it though; Zitao's eyes light up and he sneaks a glance at Sehun from the corner of his eye with a shy smile, red dusting his cheeks. Sehun's sure his own cheeks are similarly red.

 

The Starbucks is bustling with people, and Zitao goes to save them a table while Sehun waits in line for coffee. He tries to remember what Zitao had told him - “Hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows,”

The sheepish smile had made it all the more adorable. Sehun's black coffee seemed entirely too harsh in comparison, as did the way he downed it in a few gulps once he sat down, compared to Zitao's slow sips. The look of surprise on Zitao's face prompts Sehun to explain,

 

“Sorry, I haven't really had anything to eat or drink today. Also, I'm kind of really nervous,” he lets out a shaky laugh, and Zitao's eyes sparkle in understanding.

 

“It's okay. I was nervous too, to give you my number, and I was nervous when you called me. I almost thought you weren't going to.”

 

“I wasn't – almost.” Sehun admitted. “Before this, I thought I was completely straight. But I just couldn't stop myself.”

 

Zitao smirks. “Not the first time I've turned a straight boy.” And Sehun has to wonder, how many sides are there to Huang Zitao? He turned from adorable to straight up y in a matter of seconds – and it's going straight to Sehun's groin.

 

“So tell me about yourself,” Sehun blurts, eager to turn the conversation into something more mundane, something to calm his steadily rising lower area. It didn't help that Zitao had worn a muscle shirt again, the bulk of his arms moving and flexing every time he brought the cup to his lips.

 

“Well,” Zitao mused. “I'm a university student. I transferred here from China in high school, and have been living here ever since. I got the job at the cafe to earn some extra money. And... I do wushu, and I love pandas.”

 

“Wow, really? You do wushu?” Sehun can't stop himself from leaning forward excitedly – he'd tried wushu back in elementary school, and it was intensely difficult, but more importantly: awesome.

 

“Yeah,” Zitao laughed a little embarrassedly, obviously proud of himself. “I have since I was very young.”

 

“So that must be how you got those arm muscles,” Sehun really needs to stop blurting stuff around Zitao. He freezes after realizing what he just said, hoping that Zitao wouldn't think too much of it.

 

Luck has never been on his side. Instead, Zitao grins, a lazy half smirk, and puts down his drink to flex his right arm. “Oh, these?” the cocky tone in his voice made it clear that he knew exactly what Sehun thought of them.

 

Sehun nearly spits out his drink – he manages to force it down just in time, using all his willpower to keep a straight face.

 

“Y-yeah, they're very... uhh..” , he might be drooling. He wipes the corner of his mouth inconspicuously, disappointed in himself when he feels moisture. Zitao continues to flex his right arm, and a split second later lifts up his left as well.

 

Sehun really doesn't need this. He doesn't need Zitao's cocky smirk and defined arm muscles moving and flexing right in front him, he doesn't need his hooded eyes staring at him sensually, and he definitely doesn't need the growing tightness in his pants.

 

He's beginning to sweat, and he knows that Zitao knows.

 

. How can a single person be simultaneously cute and y?

 

Sehun is unable to say a word, and Zitao seems to sense that he's overdoing it a little. He puts his arms away and adorns a sheepish smile.

 

“Sorry, that was a little...” he trails off. “I just, I can tell that you want me. And it's adorable when you get so flustered.”

 

Sehun doesn't think he's ever met someone so straightforward.

 

“I-”

 

“Hey. Let's get out of here. We can go back to my place. I have an apartment close by.”

 

Sehun slowly nods. It's the best he can do with his mind so preoccupied with the question of what Zitao meant by going to his place. Images of passionate kisses, Zitao's head between his legs, hell, even his head between Zitao's legs torment his thoughts.

 

They split the bill, “That tradition of one person paying is getting old anyway. We're struggling college students,” Zitao says.

 

Sehun couldn't agree more.

 

The walk to his apartment is quick and mostly silent. Sehun is focused on the warmth of Zitao's hand in his. That and trying to hide the bulge in his pants from Zitao's peripheral vision.

 

Zitao unlocks the door and slings his jacket onto the couch. Sehun follows his lead, carefully setting his down next to Zitao's. He steps back, taking in the details of the room.

 

It's small, decorated with only a couch, tv, table, and a bookshelf piled with books and topped with photographs of assumed family members. There's a doorway leading to a tiny kitchen, where Zitao is currently pouring glasses of water, and another closed door that Sehun assumes leads to Zitao's bedroom.

 

His bedroom. Which includes his bed. Where you do certain activies.

 

He might be freaking out a little bit.

 

Zitao comes out of the kitchen and hands him the glass of water. Sehun takes a sip and sets it down on the little table in front of him.

 

“So what do you think?” Zitao asks him.

 

“It's... Nice. Seems cozy.” Sehun says.

 

“Yeah,” Zitao laughs, “a little too cozy, actually. I'd love more space.”

 

“Yeah this is pretty small. Even my dorm room has more space than this.”

 

“Oh, do you live with a roommate?” Zitao asks.”

 

“Yes. Jongin. He's my best friend.”

 

“That's nice.”

 

They fall into an awkward silence. Sehun shifts around on his feet, picking up the water and drinking again even though he isn't the least bit thirsty.

 

(Well, he is thirsty. Just not for water.)

 

Before he realizes what he's doing, Sehun has Zitao pushed up against the wall, lips crashing on his furiously. Zitao's only surprised for a second; he recovers quickly, soon moving his lips against his and trailing his hand up Sehun's back and through his hair.

 

They break apart.

“,” Sehun is gasping. Zitao's hair is disheveled, and his lips are swollen. He's sure he looks the same.

 

“I wanted you from the minute you stepped into the cafe.” Zitao says, eyeing him with a hungry look Sehun hasn't seen from him before now.

 

“So did I. I didn't know it yet, I thought I was straight. But the signs are all there.” Sehun confession feels a little lackluster. “But,” he's quick to add, “I've wanted you so bad since I realized that I was gay for you. When you were showing your arms at the Starbucks... , that was enough to get me excited.”

“I know.” Zitao looks smug. “You tried to hide it, but I saw.”

 

And they're kissing again, and Sehun is somehow flipped around, his back digging into the wall behind him. He savors the taste of Zitao's back, and the feel of his hands slipping under his shirt and down his pants.

 

Wait. Down his pants?

 

Sehun pushes him away. He looks down, unable to meet Zitao in the eye.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I'm just... I've only really known you a day, I can't...”

 

“Oh,” Zitao smiles softly. “I understand. I'll get to know you better first.”

 

He pulls Sehun into a hug and then grasps his hand, pulling him onto the couch.

 

“Let's watch a movie,” he grins. Sehun smiles at the excited tone in his voice, almost like a little kid jumping up and down.

 

“You like movies?”

 

“Love them.”