Jongdae liked to think that he was a nice guy even though Sehun was the one contradiction that refuted the idea from being factual, because every time the former returned to his apartment only to find unwashed dishes forgotten in the kitchen sink and their living room a complete mess he would yell out a string of obscenities before demanding the younger to clean the place up thoroughly. Jongdae liked to think that he went through every consecutive day of his normal life without causing too many problems since he had a not very strict routine that required him to wake up, shower, get dressed, have breakfast, head over to work then get back home, not necessarily in that order. Jongdae didn’t like causing a hassle and wasting other people’s time, so when Chanyeol offered to send him back home that day he turned it down without much thought.

 

However, due to Huang’s persistence in sending him home Jongdae realised that he had somehow broken his chain of normal events to follow through. He was overwhelmed with sorrow and dismay when Zitao refused to leave until Jongdae informed him that he was back in his flat, and Jongdae didn’t want to do the same thing ever again particularly because he didn’t want to waste anymore of Huang’s time. He wasn’t worthy of them, he was certain. Sure, Huang had insisted to send him, but it didn’t change the fact that Jongdae created a hassle by trying to convince the man he didn’t need to get a ride back to his apartment complex as he could just walk there. Jongdae swore to never let the man do it again. Perhaps next time he should take up on Chanyeol’s offer; at least Jongdae won’t mind wasting his time since they practically had the same schedule.

 

He also swore that he’d follow his not very strict routine strictly in order to avoid those things from happening one more time, should he meet Huang once again. Otherwise…well, he hadn’t thought about that yet, but he hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin the plan for thoughtless blunder. He hoped he didn’t have to find out.

 

The moment Jongdae walked into the bar the following morning with Sehun tagging along behind him Junmyeon, who just so happened to be sitting by the bar while writing something up if the different piles of paper surrounding him were of any indication at all, turned to glare at him with piercing accusatory eyes that caused Jongdae to stop right where he was and stare back, only in confusion. Oblivious, Jongdae’s housemate sauntered past him while waving at Chanyeol who stood behind the bar and taking a seat directly in front of the bartender.

 

“Where have you been? You’re late,” Junmyeon put down the pen he was holding to swivel around in his seat and cross his arms. Jongdae acknowledged that this was his manager’s (failed) attempt at appearing intimidating, but he couldn’t help himself for not feeling threatened. Sehun and Chanyeol were snickering behind their hands in the background. It reassured Jongdae that he wasn’t the only one who found his boss amusing rather than frightening.

 

“Late?” Jongdae furrowed his eyebrows. The bar was empty, save for the employees including Jongdae. As if on cue Yixing walked in, groggily waving at their manager as he took a random seat on one of the tables. Jongdae consulted the clock on the wall to his left before his eyes flickered downwards to examine his digital wristwatch for good measure. It was only 08:41 a.m.—the bar opens at nine, precisely nineteen minutes from then. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not that he was aware of. Perhaps Junmyeon was referring to the fact that he was a bit later than he normally arrived for work, but that’s been happening a lot lately for some unknown reason even Jongdae couldn’t tell. If anything he sort of needed those extra sleeping moments, especially after the Huang incident. Jongdae was the type to sleep away his worries despite having to face them in the morning.

 

“Yes late,” Junmyeon repeated threateningly. “I sent you a message an hour ago. I had to tell you something, but you weren’t online.”

 

“Oh. Sorry hyung,” Jongdae forced out a laugh (which, to his surprise, sounded an octave higher than it usually was) and dropped his arm, using the other to rub the back of his neck. “I…kind of had to turn my phone off.” Jongdae had done so right when Huang’s car was out of sight. He just felt so ashamed with himself because of the occurrence, for wasting Huang’s time. And what’s worse was that Huang undoubtedly had his number now—it was a mystery whether or not the other had saved it in return. Sehun had badgered him for an explanation but didn’t get any for his housemate had locked himself up in his room immediately after the expensive looking black car disappeared from the pavement. Thankfully, as a manager Junmyeon didn’t ask why he’d turned off his phone because unlike Sehun he was professional that way, but Jongdae was still confused. “Was it something important?”

 

His manager heaved a long, discontented sigh as he uncrossed his arms and turned back to his seat. Jongdae walked over towards the bar in order to listen better and put his bag down on one of the customer tables where Yixing, whose black bedridden hair was horribly ruffled and stuck out in many odd angles, sat with his head resting on his hand. The dreamy look in his eyes indicated that he had just woken up not a moment ago. Jongdae chuckled at the sight and, unperturbed by the other male’s amusement, Yixing greeted him.

 

“Huang called,” Junmyeon spoke up.

 

Jongdae’s head snapped to look at his manager in surprise. In a dreadfully slow pace, his soul slipped out from his mortal body as Jongdae heard his conscious scream inwardly very loudly, ears deaf from imaginative ringing. “…did he call my phone or yours?” Jongdae queried, cautious. Why would Huang call him, anyway? Couldn’t he just text him? No, because Jongdae shut off his phone. Well done Jongdae, you had successfully caused more problems—not only did you forget to text Huang that you’ve already arrived back at your apartment last night, you also selfishly turned your phone off. Huang could have texted you, and because you can’t reply he could have had him worried, and because of that Huang could have spared time from his most probably packed schedule just to check up on your pathetic and you could have wasted his time again because he—

 

“Mine,” Junmyeon’s voice pulled Jongdae out of his mental beating. The younger let out a sigh of relief shortly after taking some time to register his manager’s response, flashing a smile afterwards at Yixing who seemed to understand his little mid-life dilemma. Much to his dismay, apparently Junmyeon wasn’t done.

 

“He said he wanted you to call him whenever you’re free.”

 

“What?” Just like that Jongdae’s smile dropped again and he heard his friend snicker beside him. His life began to drain out of him through his nostrils and he looked back at Junmyeon with fear strewn in his eyes. As usual, Junmyeon remained unperturbed. This was a disaster. Jongdae didn’t mean to cause anymore hassle than he already did. Resisting the urge to strangle the life out of Yixing, Jongdae at long last pulled out his phone from his messenger bag and switched it on. If Huang really did send him a message, he could just explain to him why he didn’t reply. No hard feelings, right? At least, that’s what Jongdae hoped.

 

He ignored the multiple text messages he received from two different contacts—thankfully, from Yixing and Baekhyun—the night before that was revealed the moment the screen came on and instantly went to his contact book, where he stared at Zitao’s name on his screen for too long, bold and taunting, his number directly below his name. On a side note he was grateful upon discovering that Zitao hadn’t sent him any messages, thus saving him the embarrassment of having to explain why his phone had been turned off, but with that out of the way Jongdae wasn’t sure what to do with the man’s number. If he remembered correctly, Zitao had said he wanted to take him out for dinner sometimes; Jongdae could only wonder when that would be.

 

“You saved it with Huang’s name?”                                                                                 

 

Jongdae jumped at the voice beside him and turned around in surprise only to see Baekhyun looking over his shoulder. Jongdae hid his phone, letting out a nervous laugh in a poor attempt to make everyone digress as soon as possible. “Baekhyun…! Uh, w-when did you get here?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding the older male’s eyes for he knew the reason behind his scrutinising expression.

 

Much to the man’s luck, today was not Kim Jongdae’s day. It was not his Jong-day. “A few seconds ago, enough to see you staring at your screen for god knows how long.” Baekhyun rested a hand on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the younger in suspicion. The corners of his lips tugged up in a mischievous smirk. “Now I know why you haven’t been replying to me at all last night! How did you get Huang’s number? I thought Junmyeon hyung was the only one other than Yifan who has his number.”

 

Junmyeon nodded. Everyone looked at Jongdae questioningly.

 

With each passing second more of Jongdae’s life began to leave him as he realised that there was no getting out of this. There was no passive aggressive way to explain how he had gotten Huang’s number. Although his mouth being left agape as he struggled to choose his words didn’t help as it proved to drain his life out quicker, he couldn’t find it in him to respond. In the end, pressured by inquiring stares from all directions weighing tonnes of bricks onto his shoulders, Jongdae croaked out, “He gave it to me.”

 

“He gave it to you?” Baekhyun gasped, a hand over his mouth as he stepped back to look at Jongdae in repudiation. “He gave it to you. No way. You can’t be serious. Jongdae, what could this mean?”

 

“You don’t think…?” Yixing began, his eyes carrying a suggestive glint as he shared a glance with Baekhyun. In the periphery of his vision Jongdae caught sight of Junmyeon nodding along, seemingly agreeing with the newfound theory.

 

“Give him a break guys,” Minseok ordered. Jongdae nearly burst in relief upon hearing the older male’s voice. He spun round in his seat and saw the man standing behind the bar with his hands positioned on the edge as he leaned over it. Beside him stood Chanyeol, whose arms were crossed in a manner that made him look more threatening without having to try as hard as their manager did. Sehun watched the scene unfold before him with interest, a smirk playing on his lips.

 

“Jongdae come on, you’re on bar duty,” Chanyeol grinned. “You know, just in case Huang decides to pay a visit again.”

 

The wink subsequently thrown his way made Jongdae scoff in annoyance. Junmyeon swivelled round in his seat, gathering up his papers from the surface of the bar and tucking the collected stack under his arm. He stood, held his hand up at Baekhyun and the younger nodded, taking that as a signal to turn the sign at the front of the bar before patting the space between Jongdae’s shoulder blades and walking away to do just that. Yixing grabbed Jongdae and Baekhyun’s bags and disappeared off behind the bar after smiling at the former.

 

With his feet light and heart a tad bit fluttery Jongdae headed over to stand beside Sehun, smiling widely at Minseok and Chanyeol to express his gratitude. Perhaps he wasn’t so lucky to have such a pretentious and annoying brat like Oh Sehun as his housemate, who was currently nudging him in the ribs as a silent request for more information on ‘this Huang guy’, but he was definitely lucky to have someone like Minseok to look after him during times like this. It greatly supressed his worries. And Chanyeol—Chanyeol can be creepy at times, even with his large eyes as well as his abnormal height, but other times he could be effortlessly domineering. Jongdae was starting to appreciate the tall guy.

 

Jongdae didn’t call Huang that day, or the next, or even the next, and at the same time the said man didn’t call Jongdae. Jongdae wasn’t certain if he should be relieved or unhappy about it. While Huang might not have called him because of his packed schedule—not that he knew what he was busy from, whatever he was doing—it might also be because he’d lost interest in Jongdae. Unfortunately this led to Jongdae feeling like his inexplicable youth was slipping away within time like an overwhelming waterfall through his fingers in an alarmingly tormenting pace towards an inevitable death; it wasn’t the typical quarter-life crisis that every normal person experienced, the classic oh my god I’m twenty-three years old and all my friends are dating and meeting their significant others and getting married—why was he living with Sehun anyway, huh? It was unsettling. Disconcerting. Upsetting. He can’t stand to hear his housemate giggling with his boyfriend every night in the living room cuddling away as they watched romantic, relatable movies together whilst Jongdae’s in his room, huddled up in the corner with his blankets thinking about his non-existent love-life. God, he needed to move out soon. He can’t relate to those movies.

 

And it’s not like he could escape it. He couldn’t just live his everyday life normally now when he was too busy questioning whether or not Huang remembered him. Was he in any way significant to Huang? Did Huang’s strange, sudden face- mean anything? Did Jongdae get nervous over nothing? In addition, Chanyeol and Baekhyun weren’t helping. Every time he arrived at work either one of them would ask him if Huang called, and as usual Jongdae would say no, hence in response they would urge him to call Huang himself. Of course, it never happened because Jongdae was hard-headed and determined to forget about Huang, since Huang seemingly forgot about him as well.

 

The more he tried to forget about it the more he began to think about it. Oh, irony.

 

As days passed without any calls from or meetings with Huang Jongdae learned to come to terms with it. It didn’t matter if Huang remembered him or not; it’s not like Jongdae liked him or anything. It’s not like Jongdae liked the way Huang would look at him, as though he was truly interested in him. It’s not like Jongdae wanted to be seen with someone so hot and handsome and tall like Huang Zitao. No, definitely not. Huang wasn’t even his type. Huang was out of his league. For all he knew the man was probably worth all of Jongdae’s high school heartbreaks just because he was so perfect and so above his level. Nope, Jongdae was not the least bit attracted to Huang Zitao, period.

 

Unfortunately, there would be occasions where Junmyeon would have Chanyeol and Minseok manhandle Jongdae in order to bring him to his office at the back of the bar, making it more difficult to forget. In his many instances of trying to escape interrogation and confrontation Jongdae had found himself being thrown over Chanyeol’s shoulder three times, dragged across the floor four times by Minseok, and carried two times by both as he thrashed around wildly just to be taken to Junmyeon’s office. So far, he had only surrendered once. Jongdae had some decency, and a little thing called pride. It was represented by his chest hair (Jongdae had none, but one can dream).

 

“It’s been three days,” Junmyeon would say, arms in his pocket as he looked out the window like this was a scene from a Korean drama.

 

Jongdae would lean back in his seat because he was always too tired to care. “Uh-huh,” he replied without much thought, sighing.

 

“Has Huang called you yet?”

 

“Nope,” Jongdae said, popping the ‘p’.

 

“He wants you to call him.”

 

“Not happening, Dad.”

 

When his day off finally came Jongdae planned on sleeping away his worries and sleeping away through his existential crisis—did Huang really need his phone number? Did he really need Jongdae’s contact information if he was just going to forget about Jongdae anyway? Did he?—had it not been for Sehun, that annoying piece of , for banging on his door and screaming bloody murder on the top of his lungs. Naturally Jongdae’s instincts had kicked in and he panicked as he scrambled his way to open the door, ignoring the pain in his lower backside from falling off the bed. However, to his surprise Sehun stood there with his hands on his hips as though he was expecting something from the older male.

 

Jongdae stared back at the taller male, definitely expecting something. Sehun’s wet hair was now blond in colour—Jongdae had no idea when he had the time to colour it, but then Sehun quirked an eyebrow at him in question. “Well?” He said.

 

“Well, what?” Jongdae responded, exasperated.

 

Sehun rolled his eyes. “You were supposed to remind me I have a date tonight. And, you didn’t wake me up. What’s your reason this time? What do you have to say for yourself, huh hyung?”

 

“What the…” Jongdae shook his head. He looked back at his bedside table, on the digital clock. It was 10:54 a.m. He turned to glare at his housemate. “You didn’t tell me you had a date,” he yawned, “it’s like, eleven in the morning. What time does your date even start?”

 

Sehun crossed his arms, huffing indignantly. “I’m taking you with me.”

 

Jongdae blinked. “Excuse me?”

 

“Shopping. I’m taking you with me. Get dressed.”

 

And that was how Jongdae ended up sitting on a sofa in the fitting room of some random clothes shopping centre he didn’t bother recalling the name. He was sprawled languidly over the two-seater couch while Sehun posed in front of the mirror for what seemed like the fifty-sixth time. It’s been two hours since they arrived. So far the guy had already tried on three different dress shirts, four different jeans, and two different slacks as well as three ‘boyfriend material flannels’. Jongdae just wanted him to pick something up for his date so he could go back to his nice, comfy bed to sleep, but Sehun wouldn’t stop talking. He was talking more than he was actually choosing the clothes.

 

“You’re listening, right?” Jongdae was too exhausted to answer. Sehun continued on, turning around in front of the mirror and striking another pose. “I think the one before this works better, but the jeans can get pretty uncomfortable after some time. Then again, so do slacks…maybe I should…”

 

Jongdae put a hand up. “Sehun, no offence, but I really don’t care.”

 

Sehun looked a bit pissed, but he was younger than Jongdae, so he could do nothing about that. Jongdae was certain that he would’ve fallen back asleep then and there if Sehun hadn’t mention Huang.

 

“So are you ready to tell me who this Huang guy is?” he asked, ing the pink dress shirt he had on and carelessly throwing it onto the floor. He picked out another shirt hanging from the side, a white shirt this time and began to put it on. “Or do I have to wait for you two to start dating until you tell me? Which is totally fine by the way, me and—”

 

“Shut up,” Jongdae mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Huang is…he’s some. Some V.I.P.” he supplied.

 

Sehun chortled. “Very informative hyung,” he deadpanned. “Come on, be serious.”

 

To his surprise the older male whined. “I don’t want to come on. I don’t want to be serious.”

 

“Hyung, for a man two years older than me, you are very childish.”

 

“…fine,” Jongdae grumbled, putting his feet down on the floor in order to turn and face his housemate properly. He sat up, leaning back against the couch. “He contributed a lot to the bar. Practically owns it. Junmyeon hyung owes a lot to him.”

 

Sehun nodded. “I’ve been told,” he said. “What else?”

 

Jongdae took in a deep breath, releasing a long exhale. It was unfortunate that he was oblivious of the fact that he was already destined since the dawn of time to not have his Jong-day during that distinctive day, so the next thing he knew his phone was vibrating in the back pocket of his trousers. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion he fished out his phone and looked at the caller ID flashed on his phone screen. In an instant his crestfallen heart sunk deep down his ribcage, a disheartened look evident on the way his mouth was agape as he continued to stare at the screen.

 

He was awake now.

 

Sehun looked as though he was waiting for this moment to happen. He tried his hardest to stifle his laughter behind his hand at the sight of Jongdae’s face dropping in less than a second upon seeing the name Zitao subliminally flashing on his screen, desperately holding himself from doubling over with a hand clutching his stomach. With a wave of his hand he urged Jongdae to answer his phone.

 

Jongdae reluctantly did so, pressing the green button on his screen and bringing the receiver up against his ear. “Hello?” he spoke. His heart was pounding against his ribcage so hard he could hear it in his throat. Sehun snorted a bit, failing to keep his amusement to himself. Jongdae kicked the younger in the shin.

 

“Hello Jongdae,” Huang’s voice spoke, alluring and hypnotising. Jongdae’s fingers started to shake. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’ve you been?”

 

Sending another kick to Sehun’s shin, Jongdae answered, “I’m fine, sir. I’ve been—” he shared a glance with his housemate, “—busy.”

 

“I understand. I’ve been busy as well,” Huang chuckled. “But I assume you’re free now…?”

 

“Uh, yes I am sir. Zitao.”

 

“Great. I was wondering if you could join me for dinner tonight.”

 

There was a pause. Sehun just so happened to be listening closely and as a result began jumping up and down in front of Jongdae, getting a hold of the older male’s shoulders and shaking him aggressively. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” he was mouthing.

 

“I could,” Jongdae blurted out. “Yes I can. I’d love to.”

 

“Good,” how could Huang make a simple word like that sound so…captivating? This was unfair. Jongdae was feeling things he shouldn’t. “Good, Jongdae. I’ll see you at seven, in front of the bar. How does that sound?”

 

“It sounds great. I’ll see you there, Zitao.”

 

“I look forward to see you, Jongdae.”

 

…

 

Jongdae had his head in his hands. There was only Sehun in the room, but he refused to meet anyone’s eyes. “What just happened?”

 

Sehun grinned. “You have a date, hyung.”

 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” Jongdae demanded through gritted teeth. It was happening, wasn’t it? He was really going on a date with Huang? His first date after a while, and it was with Huang? This was a miracle and a nightmare.

 

Not only that, Huang remembered him. Huang just called him during his free time. Jongdae could mope around about how he should’ve called Huang when he had the chance, but whatever he was feeling right now surpassed his regrets. He’s going on a date with this perfect man, Junmyeon’s boss, a very important person. Huang’s going to meet him at seven p.m. at the place Jongdae worked at to pick him up.

 

Sehun was still grinning. “I promise I won’t, but what you need is some serious shopping.”

 

“What?”

 

“Boy, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re wearing very unflattering ripped jeans, an outworn jacket and a flannel. And look—boots, in this season? You might as well be wearing Uggs, Jongdae! What is this, 2011? Are you the Winchesters’ lost Asian brother or something? For a gay man, your fashion sense is a disgrace!”

 

Offended, Jongdae put a hand on his chest in disbelief. “Well excuse me!”

 

“No one’s got time,” Sehun shook his head, hooking a finger over the older male’s collar and pulling him further into the fitting room. “You have a date, Mr Love-struck. You’re coming with me.”

 

 

 

“Psst. Yixing. Yixing!”

 

The said male jumped at the noise, eyes darting around surreptitiously as he tried to make out where the voice was coming from. There were plenty of other voices in the bar, and the group of youngsters that sat at the corner stood out in particular. Yixing could mostly see businessmen and businesswomen, all from seemingly different companies, scattered all over the place. There was a nicely dressed young man sitting next to a very scruffy looking old man at the bar. There was a man by himself in the other corner of the room. Yixing was beginning to suspect that it was Baekhyun calling him over, but as he walked towards the bar the voice became louder. “Yixing, over here!”

 

Yixing spun round at the source of the voice. “Jongdae!” he exclaimed, grinning. He would have dropped the tray he was holding and smashed thousands of glasses had it not been for Minseok’s piercing gaze. “You look fine today. What’s up?”

 

“Fine?” Jongdae repeated incredulously. His skin was crawling, and the amount of cologne Sehun had sprayed on him seemed to be a bit too much. Jongdae found it hard to breathe. “You think I look nice? This is just an oversized hoodie, what’s so fine about that? Sehun took me shopping. He said, ‘Huang seems to be into those kind of things’. I don’t understand kids these days.”

 

“But you do look fine, Jongdae!” Minseok came over, instantly scanning the younger male from head to toe. Jongdae shivered. “Those skinny jeans are—”

 

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it,” He glanced around. Once he made sure that Baekhyun and Chanyeol were nowhere to be seen, he leaned in to his friends in front of him and lowered his voice, whispering, “Huang’s taking me out for dinner.”

 

Just as he expected, there was a sharp intake of breath as Yixing clamped his mouth with his hand. Minseok was also covering his mouth, but Jongdae heard the hushed “ooooooh!” coming from the older male and glared at him in response. Was this even his best friend? Was this even the man he grew up with, the man he confided since he could remember? The one who offered him advice and promised to protect him with his life? What the hell happened?

 

. Possible suspects: Manager hyung, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol. They are so dead.

 

In the midst of his meticulous murder planning, Yixing’s eyes brightened and Jongdae was pulled to reality in less than a second. Yixing smiled at him. “Kim Jongdae, you’re barely even a one-month employee but you are winning!” He put the tray down on the bar and grabbed the younger’s shoulders, looking at him straight in the eyes. Jongdae froze while Minseok giggled uncontrollably in the background. “Teach me your ways. I tried dropping money in front of Yifan, but I don’t think he cared.”

 

“Who’s—”

 

“Never mind.”

 

Clearly confused and curious, Jongdae opened his mouth to demand for an explanation, but then he spotted a black figure from his peripheral vision. He glanced at it once and looked away immediately upon recognition. It really was happening. That was Huang Zitao waiting outside. He’s waiting for him. He’s dressed all prim and proper just for him. Goodness gracious, what has he gotten himself into. “Oh my god,” Jongdae groaned. He pulled his hood up to his head, closing his eyes shut. “Please tell me I’m just imagining things,” he said, pulling the strings on his hoodie tight.

 

Minseok could only wiggle his eyebrows at him before disappearing off to serve another customer.

 

Yixing laughed. Because he was the only person Jongdae could reach out to at that moment he understood that he was supposed to be reassuring and compassionate towards the younger, moreover since Huang was the sole reason behind the younger’s hopeless expression. However, instead of being wholly supportive of Jongdae he was beginning to see the upside of the situation and couldn’t help but find happiness in his friend’s misery; the fact that Huang didn’t seem as intimidating as Yifan anymore was a phenomenal miracle. He would help Jongdae, but if Jongdae was the one element they needed in order ease up the tension of their relationship with Huang, who was a very, very, very important V.I.P., Yixing was willing to go against his friend’s wishes.

 

He pulled Jongdae’s hood to reveal his face. The said man looked at Yixing sort of accusatorily, as though meaning to ask, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ Yixing laughed again. “Good luck,” he responded, pushing Jongdae around towards the bar entrance. A sense of familiarity overcame Jongdae as his legs acted on impulse without following his orders and he found himself taking small tentative steps out of the bar towards a tall and handsome Huang, who stood outside the bar with a look of satisfaction on his face that defined all his pristine and magnificent glory. His black hair was now styled up and he was wearing a leather jacket that looked unnecessarily expensive in contrast to Jongdae’s simple navy blue hoodie, followed by a pair of black slacks as well as shiny, pointed shoes. Jongdae’s digital watch was no match for Huang’s equally expensive-looking wristwatch.

 

Once face to face, Huang did the same overwhelming thing—reached up and Jongdae’s cheek while he looked into his eyes almost too lovingly before he chuckled low. Jongdae had no idea what was the source of his amusement. He couldn’t tell if his cheeks were reddening because of the butterflies he felt fluttering in his stomach or if he was embarrassed because the other male had found something about him thrilling. Either way, he was flustered mostly because the thought of someone like Huang finding him, a potato in comparison, interesting was both terrifying and exciting him at the same time. Yixing and Minseok were dancing inside the bar as they watched through the glass windows.

 

“Hello Jongdae,” Huang smiled warmly. The gesture was enough to tone down the butterflies in his stomach.

 

“Hello Huang. Zitao.” You messed up again Jongdae. This had to be the worst time ever to embarrass yourself. It became clear to the man that it was definitely not his Jong-day, no matter how hard he tried to alter the circumstances if he could. “Sorry,” he laughed, in a rather desperate yet poor endeavour to defuse the tension building up.

 

Huang’s smile widened. Jongdae felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders at the sight. “It’s alright,” Huang assured, eying him up and down once more. “It’s alright ‘cause you’re cute. Come on,” he extended his hand towards Jongdae, who looked down at it in confusion as though Huang hadn’t just complimented him. “You ready?”

 

Jongdae found himself reaching out to Huang’s hand and the next thing he knew he was walking side by side, hand in hand with Huang Zitao, a supposedly V.I.P. to Junmyeon, who had a hard time trying to look at Huang in the eye just to negotiate terms with him. His heart was beating inside his ribcage at their intertwined fingers. His legs were struggling to catch up to the pace Huang had set up for them with his ridiculously long legs but he couldn’t help but notice how secure was the grip he had on his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or unnerved.

 

Fortunately Huang didn’t bring him to a fancy restaurant with twelve forks and four spoons and whatever stereotypical things they have in typical high class, five star restaurants. There were less than three forks and the atmosphere was a bit relaxing, though Huang did seem out of place with his leather jacket and his piercings and polished shoes. Someone like Huang certainly belonged in those high class restaurants—at least then the man would know what to do with so many forks in his disposal.

 

Their waitress was a pathetic excuse for a waitress. As a server in a rather popular bar Jongdae could tell that the woman wasn’t doing her job correctly, even if she wasn’t working at a fancy restaurant with dark red mahogany floor and high, painted ceilings. When Huang entered the place he had greeted her with such casualness that it gave Jongdae the impression they knew each other quite well. Her smile had dropped at the sight of their hands but she’d quickly recollected her dignity before directing the two to a seat near the window with access to a perfect view of the city. Huang brushed her off after she’d handed them each their menus to look over the choices and Jongdae swore the woman had glared at him momentarily as she walked away.

 

“This is an honour Jongdae,” Huang said, laying his menu down. Jongdae blinked. “It’s a privilege to have you sit down in front of me here. When I first saw you, you can understand I was confused. Junmyeon didn’t inform me beforehand that he’d hired a new worker—and a cute one at that.”

 

Jongdae’s body steamed up with embarrassment. “T-thank you s-sir,” he sputtered, not even bothering to correct himself that time. He buried his nose deeper into the menu. His eyes darted around, desperately looking for something that was good enough to change the topic while Huang brazenly continued to watch him.

 

“So polite,” Huang grinned, eyes never leaving Jongdae. “Have you thought of what to order? It’s okay if you haven’t, I’m sure Eunji wouldn’t mind waiting longer. Or would you like me to order for you?”

 

“I’m…fine,” Jongdae responded. He frowned behind the menu. “On second thought, yes please.”

 

Huang let out a laugh, as did Jongdae out of nervousness. It was then Jongdae realised that he could relax, because at that moment Huang stretched his legs out under the table in the midst of leaning back in his seat until they collided with Jongdae’s, and it was…reassuring. Amusing. Relaxing. It was as if Jongdae didn’t have to act in a certain way in front of Huang and the said male would probably accept him however he is. He was bold with him, talking normally like they knew each other for quite a long time, and for each time they made eye-contact Jongdae was more than sure it wasn’t because of the medium-sized chandelier hanging from the ceiling that Huang’s eyes were sparkling with happiness and curiosity.

 

“Do you live alone?”

 

Jongdae dreaded this question. “No,” he placed his fork aside, lifting his gaze to meet Huang’s. “I have a housemate.”

 

Huang nodded. “I see. Was he the one who helped you with your outfit tonight?”

 

It was a relief Jongdae already swallowed his food, otherwise he would have choked on his food and that would have been worse. Because this time around, he choked on his saliva.

 

A smile slowly grew on Huang’s face and he laughed at his date’s reaction. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to put it that way. Your sweatshirt was a bit too big on you and it showed your collarbones, I was wondering if it belonged to your housemate.”

 

Jongdae shook his head and smiled back. “Well he did help me with the outfit, but the sweatshirt is mine. He bought it for me though…I don’t know, he just turned twenty-one this year and already thinks he’s a fashion guru. Uh,” he scratched his cheek. “He…no…”

 

“He what?” Huang had put his utensils aside. It was too late to turn back now. “It’s alright, you can tell me.”

 

Jongdae squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, struggling to avoid any eye-contact with this man. The room was suddenly too hot. “Nothing, he just said that…you seem the type to like it when your partners wear oversized shirts.”

 

Huang was smirking now. Oh no, he looked hot. “Well, your friend is right. I would’ve preferred to see you in my clothes though,” he chuckled.

 

At this point Jongdae was boiling hot from embarrassment. There was probably smoke coming out of his ears just form how humiliated he felt then, underneath the other man’s gaze, who undoubtedly found this amusing and cute rather than odd. “Zitao...” Jongdae whined. The said man only laughed some more.

 

And maybe, although Jongdae wasn’t willing to admit it out loud, he did enjoy their time together just as much as Huang did. They had their moments. He didn’t realise how easy it was to relax then and there, because Huang seemed unbelievably professional with his blue suit and blue-contact-lensed eyes hiding behind a pair of black shades the day before that Jongdae could only twiddle his thumbs under the table in order to seek comfort. Only then, with his legs tangled with Zitao’s and Zitao not even talking about work like Jongdae expected he would, it was such a calm atmosphere that he had no reason to be nervous at all. There was no need to panic. There was no need to be anxious. There was nothing to worry about. Zitao genuinely wanted to know him for who he was if the way he leaned in every time Jongdae revealed something about himself was of any indication.

 

Throughout the night, Jongdae begged the question: why was he nervous about their date in the first place? If Jongdae was correct, Zitao didn’t act like how the others had mistakenly perceived him to be. Of course the man upheld a strain of dominance through his posture, the way he looked at Jongdae, and the way he spoke. There was something about his presence that withheld a majestic sense of masculinity and superiority to everyone else, never mind Jongdae. However, he wasn’t at all intimidating; one could argue that perhaps this was due to Jongdae somehow earning the right to see the man smile and that’s why he wasn’t exactly scary-looking anymore. But Zitao had even managed to crack a few jokes that made Jongdae laugh hysterically while the waitress—Eunji—glared at him one more time in obvious resentment. He also stole some of Jongdae’s food across the table and while it wasn’t exactly the best way to behave in front of someone during their first date Jongdae could care less. This was his ideal date. None of Jongdae’s previous dates could compare to this.

 

Just this once, he was willing to admit that this man, Huang Zitao, was his ideal type.

 

By the time they stepped out of the restaurant Jongdae already knew that Zitao grew up somewhere in China, in a place called Qingdao, and moved to Korea at an early age due to work related reasons; Yifan was Zitao’s childhood friend, some kind of messenger for he and Junmyeon because other times Zitao was busy and Junmyeon could only contact Yifan to tell the man whatever he needed to know; Zitao was the same age as him—he didn’t tell Jongdae exactly what his age was, but he knew Zitao was a few months older than him. Jongdae learned other things too of course, but those three in particular stood out.

 

Underneath the stark darkness of night-time, an elated Huang Zitao could be seen smiling at Kim Jongdae with his eyes still sparkling despite the dun of the sky, and an arm wrapped around Jongdae’s waist securely. Both were equally lost in each other’s eyes like it was nobody’s business. If Eunji saw this, she would have been so pissed…Jongdae could kill to make this moment last a little longer; then and there, he was willing to give his heart to Zitao even though they had just met.

 

“Normally I would send you back to your apartment right now,” Huang said, grinning mischievously, “but you’re free tomorrow, right?”

 

Jongdae snapped himself out of his thoughts. “Yes Zitao,” he replied.

 

“Come home with me,” Zitao said, pulling him closer and getting a hold of the younger’s hand. He interlaced their fingers together. “Come home with me. I’ll take care of you, Jongdae.”