Sehun hates summers.

It's everything about the three months of physical torture that gets on every end of his nerves. The way he can't sit down on his faux leather black couch without having to worry about melting into it. The liquid ice cream that can't last a damn ten minutes without giving up on its life. The inability to take a walk in the sun without dragging his feet across burning concrete to save energy on the way home. The blasted mosquitoes that somehow manage to find the opportunity to bite into the flash of exposed skin that one second in the middle of the night when he struggles with his blankets (the top of his thigh, his little toe, in between his fingers, etc, etc, etc.)

It's positively despicable. Probably the only good thing he likes about it is the library, open during all the worst hours and owner of the coldest air conditioning in town.

It does, however, take that half an hour of effort to throw on the laziest clothes he has, a baseball cap to protect the porcelain skin on his face, and take the bus over to the massive building. Upon arrival, he runs with all his might to the third floor and shoves himself into the quiet corner he'd discovered sometime last year. One wooden desk and chair. Nothing else.

It is his serene haven.

He usually doesn't even have his library card, or any money either as a matter of fact. Maybe his keys if he's lucky and didn't forget them on his way out. Mostly he just has his phone on him. In the heavy silence of the library's third floor -- the research area -- he'll grab a couple mangas or novels to skim through before fidgeting on his smartphone.

He spends his days here, until closing regulations force him out. The weather outside is much more bearable at that time of day anyway.

It's a particularly painful day he finds himself in the relief of his library spot when he's finally run out of material to read and his phone is drained of battery does he hear the announcement "The library is closing in five minutes". However since every bone in his body refuses to move and he's weighed down by his strong sense of procrastination, he does not budge from his chair. What's the point? If he gets locked here, he could have a library adventure. How thrilling. (Though the thought doesn't really send any excitement through his veins, he stays nonetheless.) He figures the layers of bookshelves around him will be enough to block him from sight. When five minutes pass and he is undisturbed, he figures it's safe to say that he might not have to go home in the dark.

"Hey kid, you have to go home."

Never mind then.

Sehun turns on his to see a thin figure looming over him. The guy's red cat lips scowl down at him, arms crossed over his black tank.

"What's it to you?" Sehun asks, coming off as sassier than he'd meant to.

"I work here." Well, that's a surprise.

It must show on his face because the guy scowls harder, if that's even possible, and he tosses his blond hair to a side.

"Look, I don't want to be responsible for leaving some teenager to die overnight in the third floor. So, up and out you go." He waves his hand as if to shoo Sehun out.

Sehun stands, pressing his lips into a hard line. "Whatever." He leaves in a huff, not bothering to turn back to the guy. (He kind of wants to flip him the finger. No, Sehun tells himself. He doesn't want to get kicked out of his sanctuary. But the library did just lose creds for hiring such an .)

Sehun is almost reluctant to go back the next day, afraid that he might bump into a certain unpleasant entity there. But how often could a guy meet a part-timer in that huge library? (He is a part-timer, isn't he? He had looked too young to work there full time.)

Like all the other days, the bus skids to a stop in the town square and he runs up the library steps. Before someone can tell him "no running", he is tucked away in his corner, mangas and books in hand.

Yes. Time to dissolve back into his regular routine.

"Oh, you're here again."

.

Sehun's fingers tighten their hold on the paperback in his hands as he tries very hard to ignore the towering presence behind him. The guy's shadow is making everything in front of Sehun a shade darker and he emanates the aura of a professional idiot. After it becomes clear Sehun isn't going to reply to him, he nudges Sehun's chair with his knee.

Sehun turns. "What do you want?" He lets his irritation dominate.

The guy smirks at him. "Nothing. Just wanted to say hey."

"Why the hell would you talk to me?" Sehun returns to his book. "Go away."

"Feisty," he comments. But Sehun hears him walk away and that's all he needs. With a jingle from his surplus of earrings, the guy's gone and Sehun breathes a sigh of relief.

He is not getting kicked out today.

Today, he's gone as far as pull up a chair next to Sehun and sit down.

"Don't you have a job?" Sehun grumbles through gritted teeth. Maybe he's trying to provoke him. So that he can banish him from his papery kingdom. Dammit. He might crack soon.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be than the public library?" He's smirking at Sehun. Sehun can feel it.

"Do you insist on bothering me? Thought you didn't want to be responsible for any deaths." He makes sure to stare metaphorical daggers at him so that he won't end up throwing real ones.

The boy laughs outright, shoulders shaking gently with the noise. Sehun blocks one of his ears with his index finger and that only makes the guy laugh louder.

"My name's Zitao," Mr. Part-timer says, putting out a hand.

Sehun stares at it before slapping it in a sideways high-five.

"Who asked?" Sehun mumbles, flipping a page in his book.

Zitao laughs again before standing and leaving, apparently getting enough of Sehun for one day.

"So, you haven't told me your name yet."

"I don't want you to know."

"Why?"

"Because you're creepy. And you exhaust me."

Zitao's tinkering laugh has become so frequent lately that Sehun's almost used to hearing it.

Sehun stands.

"Where're you going?" Zitao asks, leaning his elbow on the table.

"Away from you."

A playful roll of his eyes. "No, but seriously."

"I need to check this out for summer reading." Sehun waves the book in his hand with his back to Zitao.

"Well then why don't I scan it for you?"

Sehun stops in his tracks, swivels around, and shoves the book at Zitao's chest. He catches it in surprise. "Why didn't you say you could do that sooner?"

"You never looked like you had your card with you."

Sehun tries not to blush about the fact that Zitao had seen right through his endless corner-sitting. "Whatever. Just scan it for me."

They walk to the desk together (more like Sehun trudged and Zitao strode in a stylish fashion) and Zitao goes behind while Sehun waits, tapping his foot against the carpeted ground.

Zitao runs the red light over the book barcode before taking Sehun's card and scanning it too. Too late, Sehun realizes what he'd just done.

"Oh Sehun," Zitao grins. "Nice to meet you."

Goddammit.

"I think I hate you."

Zitao hands him his book, looking like the smiling devil incarnate. "Have a good day."

"Oh Sehun, hi."

Why is that second chair there again?

"What do you want?"

There's a click and a flash of light and did that demon spawn just take a picture of him? Sehun's head pops up, his eyes wide and his mouth agape in shock. "What the? Did you just? Take a picture of me?"

He's staring right into the eye of Zitao's camera. "A pretty good one too." He flips the screen for a millisecond so that Sehun can see the photo. It's of Sehun, of course, his head bent low with the book spine against the wooden table and his forearm draped over the side and top of his head.

"Delete that," Sehun growls, reaching out to snatch the phone away.

"I don't want to. It's nice." Zitao's pulls back just fast enough. "You look cute."

Face, don't betray me now. "The is that supposed to mean," Sehun mutters into his hand, resting his chin on his crossed arms atop the table. His reading has been ridiculously slow lately. Four books on his sacred corner-table and he hasn't even gotten through one.

"It means what it means. You're cute."

"Well... whatever," Sehun finishes lamely.

Zitao stands. "Well, I gotta get to my shift." He winks at Sehun. Gross. "Have to do some actual work, you know."

"Go away." Sehun waves him off with a hand.

Zitao leaves with a chuckle.

"Do you only ever read fiction?"

Sehun peeks from behind his bangs. Zitao looks at him intently through his own rough blond strands. His left ear sports a silver cross and his right has a regular silver stud. Sehun has been taking careful notice of his earrings lately.

"I only like fiction. Do you have any tattoos?"

The both of them are rather stunned at the question. Zitao because Sehun never really asks him any in return and Sehun because he just displayed human curiosity. Holy .

"Um, no. Just the piercings." He tweaks his cross as if to make a point.

Sehun nods, flushing slightly, and goes back to mentally consuming words.

"Do you have any? Earrings, I mean. Not tattoos," Zitao asks.

"Nope."

"That's too bad."

Sehun raises an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

Zitao leans close, as if about to tell a secret. He even cups his hand around a side of his mouth. Slowly, he whispers, "I'd like to bite them."

All the blood in Sehun's head rushes to his cheeks. "What?"

Zitao, grinning madly, stands and pushes in his chair. "Well, see you."

Sehun watches him go, stunned. "What?"

All shields up. Sehun is extra quiet today.

"Oh Sehun, what's up?" The second chair creaks as Zitao flops down on it. Sehun wills his face to remain its perfect pallidity. His mantra becomes blushing is for fools.

"Mmm," Sehun sounds. Zitao is not getting a reaction from him today.

"Wanna ditch the library today?"

Sehun's head shoots up. "Don't you have a job?"

Zitao shrugs.

"No. Do work or something. Go away." Books. Right, he has a book. Need to focus on that. Not Zitao and his weird silver-earring or his cat lips or his blond hair.

"Aw, you don't want me to stay?"

"No. Go away."

Zitao laughs, already standing, and musses Sehun's hair before leaving. "I'll be back after my shift."

Sehun reaches a hand up to smooth down his hair. "Don't be."

It's too hot today, even for library air conditioning. Sehun is practically going delirious with heat induced fatigue. He falls back on his chair late, having missed his usual bus.

"Oh hey. Didn't think you were coming today." Zitao walks by casually, a popsicle in his hand. He drops into his chair.

"I'm always here. And where'd you get that?" Sehun points to the popsicle.

"I snuck one in while you were very much not here."

"Shut up, I missed the bus." Sehun flaps his baseball cap at his face, trying to get a decent breeze. An idea flies into his head.

With a quick motion, Sehun leans over and takes the popsicle head in his mouth, down and then releasing it with a . Zitao stares at him in apparent astonishment.

The cool wetness disappears in his mouth too fast. It's strawberry flavored. And cold. Way colder than it is outside.

Sehun's tongue dashes over his lips. "Thanks," he says, grinning. Score one: Sehun. He feels like he just won a battle against Zitao. Who's the cocky one now?

Zitao blinks a couple times before falling back into a sort of daze. "I'm going to need compensation for that."

"Wha--?" Sehun's words are jerked out of his mouth as Zitao pulls him up from his chair and into the deepest, darkest section of the third floor, where the lights barely make it to the far wall from sheer distance and where it lacks public acknowledgement.

Zitao pushes Sehun against the wall, his arms on either side of Sehun's head and his mouth a little too close to Sehun's ear. "Too far, Oh Sehun." Sehun feels himself flush madly as Zitao's breath ghosts over his skin. Oh god. His heart could jump out of his chest at this very moment and Zitao would be his murderer.

"Compen...sation?" Sehun repeats in dumb stupor as Zitao tilts his head back a little to look into his eyes.

Zitao's lips crash into his own and a surprised squeak makes its way from Sehun's throat. His hands are pressed against the books behind him and novel spines dig into his own. His hips hurt from the ridges of thin hardcovers and his head had just hit the wooden shelf. But it doesn't really matter. Zitao's mouth is cold and sweet and, goddamn, it tastes like a strawberry popsicle.

Sehun starts kissing back.

A thrum of adrenaline runs through his veins. They could be caught making out in the library. Sehun could be kicked out. He doesn't care.

Sehun's body starts heating up. And Zitao's lips are invitingly cold.

Sehun lets out a muffled moan as Zitao swipes his tongue over Sehun's bottom lip, tasting. He twists his fingers into the front of Zitao's shirt to drag him closer.

Zitao pulls back first, leaving Sehun panting hard against the bookshelf. He rubs a thumb teasingly over his lips. Grinning. "Strawberry. Sweet." He pecks Sehun's forehead almost delicately, as if he hadn't just attacked him like a beast. "Compensation received."

Sehun would hit him if he wasn't so weak from whatever the hell had happened. "I hate you. Shut up," he pouts, resisting the temptation to touch his lip. He can still feel Zitao's ice.

"I love you too," Zitao says, winking.

Sehun shuts him up with a kiss before he can say any more.

So maybe summers aren't that bad.