The floor under him feels too cold against his cheek, the grain of it sticks patterns against the skin and he has a hard time breathing when a weight plasters itself along his body.

“Say it,” Kyungsoo says, voice too close to his ear and he bites his tongue to keep any embarrassing noises to himself.

“I quit,” he breathes out, his ribs are getting crushed and his lung may just give up on him, “you're the best just please, let me live.”

Kyungsoo laughs, throaty and too amused for Zitao's taste, but he takes it along with the bruises Kyungsoo's touches bring, almost looks forward to it.

The weight shifts to his lower back, the hand behind his neck pulling away, the ghosts of too hot fingertips still lingering.  Zitao doesn't move, presses his heated cheek to the cold wooden floor, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You're so mean Kyungsoo,” Zitao finally says, tenses when he feels a shift over him, fingers fanning over his back.

“For someone so big, you go down like a baby,” Kyungsoo replies.

Zitao gives up, his arms go limp and he's at least glad no one is in the gym to see him get thrown around by someone so small.

He has homework to do, chores to get home to, but the weight of Kyungsoo is warm and strangely safe feeling.  His eyes are drooping and his body is starting to go sore from the position when he hears the tiniest of whispers.

“See you later Zitao,” it's so soft, almost not there, punctuated with a fleeting kiss, a quick peck to the bottom of his neck, chapped lips and too warm breath.

He barely has time to react, the weight leaves him and there's the squeaking noises of the creaking floor against Kyungsoo's feet.

-

The hall is empty, Zitao has never been to school this early, the classroom across his locker is lit up, an early morning student council meeting is talked in hushed tones and it feels weird standing droopy eyed waiting.

He's going over his math homework when someone sits next to him, his shoes squeak and their shoulders bump when Kyungsoo tries to get more comfortable.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and Zitao closes his notebook, lets the question sit for a while before he turns to look at Kyungsoo.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, the hallway is empty again, the lights above them flicker for a second.

Kyungsoo hums, stretching out his legs, “About what?”

A lot of things, Zitao wants to say, about you and me and why I like how you hurt me.

But his throat closes up and Kyungsoo looks up at him expectantly, small smile curling over his lips, dark lashes blinking slowly.

“I forgot,” he says, “forget it?”

Kyungsoo gives him a look of disbelief, his eyes searching before Zitao looks away, jamming his notebooks into his book bag, “I'm gonna be late for class,” he says and gets up before Kyungsoo says anything else.

-

His mom isn't home when Kyungsoo sends him the text.

hey open the door?

The kitchen fan is spewing warm air and he thinks about not going down but it's Kyungsoo and Zitao has a hard time with saying no.

He's sweating when Zitao opens the door, the sun outside is relentless and Zitao steps aside to let him.

Zitao is in the middle of pouring out a glass of water when Kyungsoo says something.

“You've been acting pretty strange,” he says, drums his fingers over the table, “I want to know why.”

The whirring of the fan overhead it's starting to get annoying.

“It's not a big deal,” Zitao says when he turns around, “just a little confusing.”

Kyungsoo nods, his socked feet don't reach the floor from his perch on the stool and it's endearing and silly all wrapped into one.

“Ok,” Kyungsoo nods for Zitao to go on.

“I think I like you,” Zitao says, “a lot, probably.”

There's a moment of silence, the fridge hums in the background.

“Ok?” Kyungsoo says, “is that it?”

Zitao nods, harsh and clipped off.

“You're kinda of stupid, probably,” Kyungsoo laughs.

“What?” Zitao frowns, Kyungsoo has never been this kind of hurtful, he backs into the sink edge, it digs painfully into his back.  

Zitao forgets that Kyungsoo is a boy, no matter how small he is, how delicate his eyelashes are, how much smaller his hands are in his.  Kyungsoo shoves against his shoulder, fingers digging into his upper arm, leaving red imprints against his skin.

“No you're stupid,” a smile is starting to grow over Zitao's frown when Kyungsoo's toes push him up, lips just brushing against his.

“I like you a lot too,” Kyungsoo says, “I thought that's why you were acting weird.  This is actually pretty great.”

Zitao laughs, too loud in the the empty kitchen and too happy.

“Ok,” he says and Kyungsoo kisses him.